FIC: Midnight's Children (chapter 3)
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Title: Midnight’s Children (chapter 3)
Rating: R
Genre/pairing/warnings: Daniel/Vala, Drama, Action-Adventure, mentions of torture in some chapters
Setting: Post-Ark of Truth
Word count: 4,342
Summary: Daniel and Vala, captured and held prisoner, struggle to survive a dark and painful ordeal. Not to mention each other. The bonds forged through hardship may prove to be the strongest of all, if only they can see them.
Previous: Part 2 here
The luminous moon cast a slivery glow on the nightscape below, the wet shine of recent rain picking out the edge of every rock, branch and leaf. A gilded world in monochrome.
This planet’s moon dwarfed Earth’s feeble satellite. From their viewpoint on the sparsely forested ridge it was easy for Vala to pick out their destination nestled in the lea of the valley’s far side, the copious light gleaming from its golden walls like a beacon.
She felt her stomach drop.
There was no mistaking a Goa’uld stronghold; it erupted from its bucolic surroundings like a canker, out of place, angular and radiating all the conceit typical of its architect.
Nothing moved over the open land that stretched some distance in all directions, the stillness broken only by some far off creature howling a lament into the night. Already chilled to the bone as she was, the shiver of unease that prickled Vala’s skin was almost lost to her.
A casual shove persuaded her to continue down the incline and she relied on her feet to find their own way, her thoughts whirring.
She hadn’t anticipated this. She’d not sensed the presence of a symbiote among her travelling companions, although that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
They were certainly an odd collection of specimens; each of the seven men that made up her entourage wore an eclectic patchwork of repurposed leather armour, mismatching clothing and an intriguing selection of weaponry, from blades to more sophisticated arms. Most had seen better days. A good proportion looked less than reliable. Not that she intended to test her theory. And despite appearances, the men were certainly organised, trading positions regularly and responding with almost military precision to the directions of their aesthetically-challenged leader.
As she negotiated her way across the rain-sodden slope, she pushed back the hood of her waterproof and spared a glance behind her. Daniel was being traded off to a fresh pair of shoulders and two bulky sacks of mysterious content were redistributed among the group. Loot of some kind? But from where? She unintentionally caught the disapproving eye of their rear guard and hastened to bring her attention back to her path.
Daniel was once again a limp weight, having stirred only once since their last rest stop. Vala was worried but also grateful; the slightest of struggling had been rewarded with cruel blows and, at one point, a dangerously careless drop and a lengthy argument between less than enthusiastic cargo hauliers. They hadn’t resorted to dragging him behind them as yet, or (heaven forbid) simply shooting him and leaving him behind, but Vala could sense their tolerance waning.
She knew better than to complain; her initial attempts at questioning, bargaining and ingratiating chatter had quickly earned her the threat of a violent gagging and extracted little valuable information.
The planet’s heavy gravity pulled at her every step, the unnatural, greedy weight a tangible presence she could feel in her bones. Loosened soil sloughed easily from the slope under the pressure of her tread, the menace of a swift and unpleasant fall in the sound of every scattering of scree. She briefly entertained the idea of a controlled slide, imagining in vivid detail the breathy liberation of adrenaline and momentum, the chaos of clattering rocks and slipping soil cloaking a desperate dash for freedom. A claw-like hand wrapped itself in a rigid vice just above her elbow, spoiling an incipient tumble and her short-lived fantasy. She caught her balance and was once again propelled forward, a parting gift of sneering derision accompanying the finger pad bruises pushed deep into her flesh.
Her entourage urged her to pick up the pace as they neared the midpoint of their descent. The party swung its course to follow parallel with the ridge, and Vala felt a cold flood of realisation wash over her; they were sticking to the cover of the tree line. Far from making a direct path for the vast meadow and the building in the distance beyond, the group skirted the flood plain and put their backs to the building.
Vala studied the silent men flanking her. She had noticed that what little chatter there had been between them had dried up some time ago. They were what Cam would have called ‘twitchy’, eyes scanning their surroundings and darting to catalogue every snap of branch and twig.
Feeling uneasy, she peered more carefully across the grassy expanse to their right. There were features her eyes had skipped over previously in favour of that opulent structure. The distant ground closest to the stronghold’s walls appeared pocked, perhaps with craters, and indistinguishable lumps only visible in the twilight as fractionally deeper shadow were scattered around its immediate approach. The faint smell of burning reached her nostrils on a slight stirring of air, along with something more noxious.
The unmistakable tang of decay lingered here.
After some time their path cut into an area of denser brush and she soon lost sight of the rippling grassland through the verdant foliage. Clusters of wet leaves slapped unpleasantly across her face and she soon found herself fighting her way through tangles of sharp briar.
The man on point brought them to a silent halt some way into the thicket and she looked about nervously, the atmosphere a collectively held breath that infected even her with tense anticipation. The ugly one gave a short, three-note whistle and waited. Almost immediately, the combination of sounds was repeated from a short distance away, and one of their party broke off to approach the source. When he returned, Vala was once more prodded into movement.
She emerged into a small clearing taken up almost entirely by the remains of a stripped Al’kesh. It was rusting away quietly in the dirt, gaping holes in its carcass exposing the bones of its structure to the night air. If the gouged earth describing a telltale trail into the nearby scrub was anything to go by, its landing had not been a soft one. Nor recent. There didn’t appear to be any other craft in sight, and Vala very much doubted the ship would see flight again.
Two guards stepped from hidden positions inside the ship and, as they passed, exchanged quiet words with the group’s leader that Vala couldn’t quite make out. Ahead, the man on point stooped to clear fallen leaves from a patch of unremarkable ground, pushing the resultant mess into a pile with the side of his boot.
Vala craned her neck curiously as the man bent and heaved a sheet of metal upright, revealing a queue of rungs of dubious integrity that disappeared down into the earth. Without so much as a backward glance, the man propped the trapdoor open and leapt into the hatch with the ease of much practice. After a moment a warm glow of light emanated from the hole.
A clip to the back of her head persuaded Vala that she was meant to follow.
So. A secret entrance. Perhaps they were headed to the stronghold after all. Interesting.
As she placed her foot on the first creaking rung, it registered with Vala in a sick wave that no one had felt the compulsion to blindfold her.
---
The trek through the tunnel was long and tiring. By the time they reached its end, Vala was muddied and exhausted, and more than a little apprehensive. Exiting the tunnel required an elaborate ritual involving a long pole, some sort of morse code and the lowering of various winches and rope ladders.
She watched as the group’s cargo disappeared over the lip of the hatch above her, followed by Daniel’s unresponsive bulk.
“You next,” her laconic personal guard instructed.
She kicked out with a cry when meaty hands wrapped around her hips and she was boosted upwards with frightening speed. She flailed her arms and her wrists were captured in a firm grip. With a gratuitous press of hands to her behind, she was hauled through the opening with embarrassing efficiency.
The men around her grinned and leered at her, and a selection of choice comments lined up along her tongue. She settled for an indignant “well that was unnecessary” and brushed at her clothing with all the decorum she could manage.
The ornate and golden walls of the corridor she had emerged into were almost dazzling after the darkness of the tunnel below, but not altogether unexpected. She watched surreptitiously as greetings were exchanged between the returning party and the guards manning the unconventional entrance. Backs were slapped and shoulders clenched, the returning of brothers in arms from a dangerous mission. She felt uncomfortable under the questioning scrutiny of this strange welcoming committee, a confusing mix of appreciative appraisal and hostile caution.
The brusque display was interrupted by a shout of warning that echoed along the corridor, followed soon after by the muted thud of a nearby explosion. The floor moved beneath her feet and Vala reached for the wall to steady herself, a fine dusting of pulverised masonry coating her.
The unburdened men of their group launched into action, heading at a loping run towards the source of the impact. Calls of alarm, drumming footsteps and clacking weaponry sounded from intersections further along the corridor. Another group of men almost knocked Vala down as they sprinted past her, rounding a corner with a controlled skid.
“What’s going on?” Vala called towards their departing backs.
“With me,” her captor ordered his remaining men, wrapping a hand around Vala’s forearm to tug her along in his wake.
They dodged hurrying men at every turn, all hallways a hive of frantic activity. Vala’s eyes scoured the architecture for signs of its Goa’uld builder. The place had been stripped of identifying features. She didn’t recognise the decorative style.
As they passed deeper into the building, it became clear that much of the complex was badly damaged. The pattern of destruction was vaguely familiar; holes eaten away in otherwise smooth metal cladding, unusual patterns of corrosion, and wires dangling listlessly from wall panels like spilled innards. Debris had been cleared haphazardly to the sides of more well-worn routes and footsteps that would have rung grandiosely were muffled by accumulated dirt, stacked storage containers and piles of scavenged detritus.
At one point her foot connected with a small piece of metal and sent it tinkling into the shadows. She frowned at the familiar sound.
Half of her party peeled off at an intersection and slung their sacks to the ground with a heavy thunk. Vala held back long enough to catch a glimpse of zats and other miscellaneous weaponry spilling across the floor before she was herded onwards, a painful yank to her arm reminding her to keep her eyes forward.
She was finally propelled into a small control room, staggering until a console brought her momentum to a painful stop. Her handler jerked his head and the man carrying Daniel set his burden down on the floor.
Vala eyed her captor warily. He stalked towards her and circled the console, a predator toying with its prey. Vala was unimpressed. She strove to appear cowed and kept her eyes lowered.
“You will make this operational.”
Vala let her eyes rove over the console and its exposed panel of crystals, establishing almost immediately that it was likely to be of little strategic use to her. “What is it?”
“You tell me, little mechanic. I have heard great things of the infamous SG-1.”
Vala looked again, more closely this time. A test, surely? This was straightforward Goa’uld tech. Not something a Goa’uld would need her to mend. Or rather, her admittedly more technology-savvy compatriot.
She studied the crystal array before her. It was similar to field generator technology. A force shield? She let her palm rest over a depression in the control panel and a holographic readout sprang into being. She made a show of scanning the scrolling lettering and gave a dramatic shrug.
“As I thought,” she sighed, and shook her head sadly.
The man’s eyes narrowed.
She allowed the pause to stretch. “I can’t read it.”
“You are here to work, not to read.”
“Ah yes,” she replied, “but you know what they say about always reading the instructions. I wouldn’t want to, say, blow us all into a million vaporised pieces by pressing the wrong button.”
The man’s expression darkened dangerously, and she rallied her final gambit.
“But not to worry. He can help me.” She jerked her chin towards Daniel’s prone form and her captor followed her look. He eyed her for a moment, considering his options.
Vala held out her hand and wriggled her fingers.
With deliberate slowness, the man withdrew the healing device from the fold of his outerwear, his eyes locked with Vala’s. He held the device out in the air in front of him, not quite closing the distance, and waited.
Vala felt an uncomfortable prickle travel over the back of her neck. She smiled cautiously and reached out to take the proffered device, but he would not release his hold. The man’s scrutiny didn’t waver, a myriad of sentiments, none of them pleasant, communicated in that heated exchange.
“Um,” she began hesitantly, giving the device a gentle tug. “Can I have it?”
He made her wait several more excruciating seconds before releasing his grip, and she forced herself to murmur a resentful “thank you”.
She was wary of turning her back on him, yet anxious to start should he change his mind. She dropped to her knees at Daniel’s side and took several deep breaths, marshalling her reserves. She was exhausted and strung out, and she didn’t know how long she would be allowed to do this. She needed to focus as much of the device’s power as she could in a relatively short space of time. Dangerous, but doable.
Daniel lay pale and unmoving where he’d been placed, his skin cold and clammy to the touch. With trembling fingers she peeled back the makeshift dressing over the ugly wound at his temple. It was gummy with partially congealed blood. The whole left side of his head was a sticky, rusty mess, his hair matted and stiff and red.
She closed her eyes and tried to block out the looming presence of her captor, his loud breathing and sour smell at her shoulder.
Fitting her hand into the strap, she raised her arm and began. The familiar sensation of warm energy gathering in her chest and flowing down her arm was entirely psychological, she knew. She couldn’t actually feel this. There was no real transfer of energy from wielder to recipient. A combination of the naquadah in her blood and the bioelectric signals between the synapses of her brain triggered the mechanisms in the device, the strength of her will amplifying the latent functionality by degrees. But to her it would always feel like a more physical, tangible process, like a giving and taking of life force that she could sense with every fibre of her body. The effort it required was very real either way, and she fought to concentrate her mind as the golden glow spread and pulsed.
She prayed she was strong enough for this. She prayed it would be enough.
He was bad. As she had feared, her earlier efforts had not been enough. He had rallied briefly, but he’d needed more to stem the inevitable lapse in condition. She wasn’t too late. She could do this.
She parsed the feedback returning to her, teasing apart the nebulous streams of information and allowing them to guide her effort. Using her mind’s eye to map the delicate threads of data, she directed the current to where it was needed most, focussing on the deeper damage, repairing the crucial systems, relieving pressure, knitting fractured bone, sealing broken capillaries.
With each passing moment she could imagine herself pushing back death, beating it into submission and sweeping it aside. Serious trauma was reversing towards injury, the eventually fatal to the survivable, the critical to the treatable.
Vitals were levelling out.
It was working.
She opened her eyes and watched as the split along Daniel’s hairline began to pull together, the sluggish bleeding drying up and the skin smoothing out. Cosmetic, perhaps, but the sign she was looking for to confirm that the healing was progressing. Now if she could just concentrate a little harder on the worst of it, she was certain she could--
A savage blow knocked the healing device from her hand and sent it clattering across the enamelled floor.
“Enough,” her captor purred sweetly, his hot breath blasting across her ear.
Vala shuddered and cradled her throbbing fist to her chest. She bit down on a frustrated curse as she was jerked back forcefully by her hair.
“You. Get up.”
She leaned round in time to see Daniel blinking dazedly at the hand fisted in his collar, a brutal shaking threatening to snap his neck for him.
“Just give him a minute,” Vala entreated as she attempted to intervene. She was knocked back, hitting the ground again with bruising force.
“I said,” the man growled, his face thrust towards Daniel’s own, “Get. Up.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He hauled Daniel up by his jacket and slammed him into the wall. Vala scrambled to her feet and jumped to his side.
“Let me help him. Please.”
The room shook with another tremor, knocking loose a cloud of dust and a pelting of ceiling fragments. From somewhere in the complex outside, someone blew a whistle.
The man curled his lip and released Daniel with a disgusted sneer. Vala planted her feet to catch some of his weight, gasping when rather more than she had anticipated bore down on her shoulder.
Their captor strode to the doorway and looked out, consulting with passing runners and barking orders to others. He turned back briefly to thrust an impatient finger at the console, and Vala took the hint.
“As much as I appreciate the effort, Daniel,” she grunted as she struggled to stand fully upright, “it’s at times like these that you could do with being a bit less unwieldy.”
“S-sorry,” he managed to slur, although Vala expected he wasn’t quite clear on what he was apologising for.
“Listen, think you can help me? You’re far too heavy to drag all the way across the room by myself. Come on, up and Adam.”
“At ‘em,” he corrected automatically, his eyes screwed tightly shut as Vala moved them both away from the support of the wall.
“Pardon?” she asked as she steadied him.
“It’s up and at ‘em. You said it…” He paused a moment and swallowed thickly. “You said it wrong,” he finished faintly.
With some wavering that reminded Vala of a colourful movie she’d watched once about an ice-skating deer, they made it up onto the raised platform and next to the console. She propped Daniel against it and he clutched the panel’s lip with a white-knuckled grip.
Sparing a furtive glance for their distracted captor, Vala began manipulating the controls until ethereal glyphs scrolled brightly across the display’s curved surface. She needed something that would look good. Preferably something flashing in a bright, warning red. Selecting the screen she wanted, she turned her head to speak loudly over her shoulder.
“It’s a good thing I’ve got the team linguist with me, let me tell you. Give me complicated and long-winded mathematical equations any day; none of this means the first thing to me!” The man approached, presumably to menace her, and she waved a dismissive hand at the readout screen with a self-depreciating facial shrug.
Next to her, Daniel frowned at her deeply. “Whuh? Val--“
“Now darling,” Vala hastened to interrupt, “you’ve taken quite a knock to the head. It’s understandable you’re confused. Try not to overtax yourself.” She petted the undamaged side of his head with solicitous condescension and rolled apologetic eyes at their captor.
“Fix it,” the man commanded, unamused. “Now.”
Vala nodded and turned to her weaving teammate. “I need your help now, Dr Jackson,” she explained slowly, trying to impart as much of her plan as she could through her earnest gaze. “Can you translate this section of text for me?”
She pointed to a block of lettering and Daniel peered myopically towards where she indicated.
“But…? W-wait. You can re-- ah!”
Vala promised herself she would apologise for that vicious pinch later.
“Please,” she implored, her eyes as full of meaning as she could make them.
Daniel squinted at her in open-mouthed confusion for a moment longer but turned to do as she’d asked.
Her captor watched her carefully as she crouched to work on the crystal array, being sure to time her movements to the instructions Daniel haltingly read out above her. The problem was actually quite a simple one to overcome, but she made a show of examining the inner circuitry, swapping some extraneous crystals over and pulling experimentally on the wiring.
“Ah ha!” she finally announced. “Here we are.”
She clipped the loose coupling back into place with a triumphant flourish and smiled up at her captor. It faded when the expected hum of energy failed to materialise.
“Hold on.” She gave the base of the console a swift kick. Blinking lights flickered on and crystals lit up obediently, the device whirring into life. She dusted her hands off theatrically. “There.”
Another distant explosion echoed through the building, but this time the pattering of debris was conspicuously absent. Vala glanced at the display to confirm what she had already guessed: an energy field was now being generated somewhere nearby, and if she was interpreting the readings correctly, it was holding up to some fairly sustained bombardment.
Her captor approached her, an ugly smirk across his twisted face. “Little mechanic,” he purred almost lovingly, his calloused hand sweeping approvingly over her cheek.
“Anton”, someone called breathlessly from the hallway. A messenger appeared in the doorway, a trickle of bright blood running down his face. “Sellon would see you now.”
---
Vala’s knees impacted the marble of the throne room floor with bone-jarring twin thumps. She generally wasn’t a fan of genuflection, particularly when she wasn’t the one on the receiving end of it.
Any banners or icons pertaining to the previous occupier had long since been removed, and even the more subtle nuances of ownership were hard to place. Vala noted with wry amusement that the new tenants had been unable to completely eliminate all sense of the elaborate, the ostentatious and the vulgar from the room; the monstrous chair dominating the dais before her drew all attention to it. Qetesh’s penchant had been for the severe. The contemptible little worm would have scoffed at the pomp in evidence here.
Daniel crumpled into position next to her and she turned to offer him a reassuring nudge. He was still pale but looked slightly less like he might collapse. He met her eyes and gave her a wan smile.
“How are you feeling?” she whispered, aware of the escorts standing at her back.
Daniel closed his eyes and took a slow breath. “Like I might throw up. But better.”
“You can thank me later,” she told him.
Their ugly friend was almost unrecognisable in this new setting, his aggressive demeanour replaced by an oily obsequiousness that set Vala’s teeth on edge. He was fawning to a man Vala hadn’t seen before. Presumably this was Sellon, master of all he surveyed. He had a self-possessed dignity about him that his subordinate lacked, and for all his obvious power appeared careworn and harassed. Far from finery or ornamentation, he was dressed much as his men, his garments twice mended and dirty. It was his regal air that radiated command and leadership, and if Vala was reading him right, he didn’t appear to like Anton very much at all.
Daniel shifted next to her with a wince, trying and failing to find a comfortable way to kneel. He leaned towards her conspiratorially. “Um, not to sound ungrateful or anything, but why is there grovelling?”
“Relax, Daniel. I’m handling it.”
“Huh. Is that what this is?”
The jab of plated toecaps reminded them both that silence was expected.
Sellon stepped slowly from the platform, Anton following eagerly in his wake. He circled his petitioners leisurely, coming to a stop before Vala. He crouched and reached out a hand to gently tuck her hair behind her ear. He said nothing for a long moment and held her gaze. Vala tried an innocent smile. The man’s expression hardened, and Vala felt her face drop.
“Who are you?”
She contorted her features into a look of bafflement. “I’m sorry, what?” The hand still curled in the hair by her ear tightened painfully. She winced. “Ow.”
Sellon stood and released her, turning to remount the dias. “This is not Major Carter of SG-1. Colonel Carter is clearly still at large.”
Anton swung her a murderous glare before hurrying to catch up with his commander. “But, the shielding!”
“A fluke, perhaps. We will need far more than that if we are to withstand a barrage from fresh forces, as you well know. We can spare no more resources to pursue this plan of yours. It had merit, but now it is time to reassess.”
Enraged and humiliated, Anton stormed from the platform and struck Vala a ringing backhand. Her lip reopened and flooded her mouth with iron, but she managed to remain upright. She straightened and faced her attacker. He towered over her, red-faced and nostrils flaring. She blew him a jaunty kiss.
He brought his arm back for another swing. Daniel’s protest was overridden by an unspoken order from the commander, and the guard behind Vala stepped forward to intercede.
“She can operate the technology, yes?” Sellon enquired from his position by the throne.
“Yes, I can.”
“Vala,” Daniel warned.
The commander flicked his eyes at their escorts and they were forced to stand.
“Then we may have use for you yet,” he said.
Part 4
Title: Midnight’s Children (chapter 3)
Rating: R
Genre/pairing/warnings: Daniel/Vala, Drama, Action-Adventure, mentions of torture in some chapters
Setting: Post-Ark of Truth
Word count: 4,342
Summary: Daniel and Vala, captured and held prisoner, struggle to survive a dark and painful ordeal. Not to mention each other. The bonds forged through hardship may prove to be the strongest of all, if only they can see them.
Previous: Part 2 here
The luminous moon cast a slivery glow on the nightscape below, the wet shine of recent rain picking out the edge of every rock, branch and leaf. A gilded world in monochrome.
This planet’s moon dwarfed Earth’s feeble satellite. From their viewpoint on the sparsely forested ridge it was easy for Vala to pick out their destination nestled in the lea of the valley’s far side, the copious light gleaming from its golden walls like a beacon.
She felt her stomach drop.
There was no mistaking a Goa’uld stronghold; it erupted from its bucolic surroundings like a canker, out of place, angular and radiating all the conceit typical of its architect.
Nothing moved over the open land that stretched some distance in all directions, the stillness broken only by some far off creature howling a lament into the night. Already chilled to the bone as she was, the shiver of unease that prickled Vala’s skin was almost lost to her.
A casual shove persuaded her to continue down the incline and she relied on her feet to find their own way, her thoughts whirring.
She hadn’t anticipated this. She’d not sensed the presence of a symbiote among her travelling companions, although that didn’t necessarily mean anything.
They were certainly an odd collection of specimens; each of the seven men that made up her entourage wore an eclectic patchwork of repurposed leather armour, mismatching clothing and an intriguing selection of weaponry, from blades to more sophisticated arms. Most had seen better days. A good proportion looked less than reliable. Not that she intended to test her theory. And despite appearances, the men were certainly organised, trading positions regularly and responding with almost military precision to the directions of their aesthetically-challenged leader.
As she negotiated her way across the rain-sodden slope, she pushed back the hood of her waterproof and spared a glance behind her. Daniel was being traded off to a fresh pair of shoulders and two bulky sacks of mysterious content were redistributed among the group. Loot of some kind? But from where? She unintentionally caught the disapproving eye of their rear guard and hastened to bring her attention back to her path.
Daniel was once again a limp weight, having stirred only once since their last rest stop. Vala was worried but also grateful; the slightest of struggling had been rewarded with cruel blows and, at one point, a dangerously careless drop and a lengthy argument between less than enthusiastic cargo hauliers. They hadn’t resorted to dragging him behind them as yet, or (heaven forbid) simply shooting him and leaving him behind, but Vala could sense their tolerance waning.
She knew better than to complain; her initial attempts at questioning, bargaining and ingratiating chatter had quickly earned her the threat of a violent gagging and extracted little valuable information.
The planet’s heavy gravity pulled at her every step, the unnatural, greedy weight a tangible presence she could feel in her bones. Loosened soil sloughed easily from the slope under the pressure of her tread, the menace of a swift and unpleasant fall in the sound of every scattering of scree. She briefly entertained the idea of a controlled slide, imagining in vivid detail the breathy liberation of adrenaline and momentum, the chaos of clattering rocks and slipping soil cloaking a desperate dash for freedom. A claw-like hand wrapped itself in a rigid vice just above her elbow, spoiling an incipient tumble and her short-lived fantasy. She caught her balance and was once again propelled forward, a parting gift of sneering derision accompanying the finger pad bruises pushed deep into her flesh.
Her entourage urged her to pick up the pace as they neared the midpoint of their descent. The party swung its course to follow parallel with the ridge, and Vala felt a cold flood of realisation wash over her; they were sticking to the cover of the tree line. Far from making a direct path for the vast meadow and the building in the distance beyond, the group skirted the flood plain and put their backs to the building.
Vala studied the silent men flanking her. She had noticed that what little chatter there had been between them had dried up some time ago. They were what Cam would have called ‘twitchy’, eyes scanning their surroundings and darting to catalogue every snap of branch and twig.
Feeling uneasy, she peered more carefully across the grassy expanse to their right. There were features her eyes had skipped over previously in favour of that opulent structure. The distant ground closest to the stronghold’s walls appeared pocked, perhaps with craters, and indistinguishable lumps only visible in the twilight as fractionally deeper shadow were scattered around its immediate approach. The faint smell of burning reached her nostrils on a slight stirring of air, along with something more noxious.
The unmistakable tang of decay lingered here.
After some time their path cut into an area of denser brush and she soon lost sight of the rippling grassland through the verdant foliage. Clusters of wet leaves slapped unpleasantly across her face and she soon found herself fighting her way through tangles of sharp briar.
The man on point brought them to a silent halt some way into the thicket and she looked about nervously, the atmosphere a collectively held breath that infected even her with tense anticipation. The ugly one gave a short, three-note whistle and waited. Almost immediately, the combination of sounds was repeated from a short distance away, and one of their party broke off to approach the source. When he returned, Vala was once more prodded into movement.
She emerged into a small clearing taken up almost entirely by the remains of a stripped Al’kesh. It was rusting away quietly in the dirt, gaping holes in its carcass exposing the bones of its structure to the night air. If the gouged earth describing a telltale trail into the nearby scrub was anything to go by, its landing had not been a soft one. Nor recent. There didn’t appear to be any other craft in sight, and Vala very much doubted the ship would see flight again.
Two guards stepped from hidden positions inside the ship and, as they passed, exchanged quiet words with the group’s leader that Vala couldn’t quite make out. Ahead, the man on point stooped to clear fallen leaves from a patch of unremarkable ground, pushing the resultant mess into a pile with the side of his boot.
Vala craned her neck curiously as the man bent and heaved a sheet of metal upright, revealing a queue of rungs of dubious integrity that disappeared down into the earth. Without so much as a backward glance, the man propped the trapdoor open and leapt into the hatch with the ease of much practice. After a moment a warm glow of light emanated from the hole.
A clip to the back of her head persuaded Vala that she was meant to follow.
So. A secret entrance. Perhaps they were headed to the stronghold after all. Interesting.
As she placed her foot on the first creaking rung, it registered with Vala in a sick wave that no one had felt the compulsion to blindfold her.
---
The trek through the tunnel was long and tiring. By the time they reached its end, Vala was muddied and exhausted, and more than a little apprehensive. Exiting the tunnel required an elaborate ritual involving a long pole, some sort of morse code and the lowering of various winches and rope ladders.
She watched as the group’s cargo disappeared over the lip of the hatch above her, followed by Daniel’s unresponsive bulk.
“You next,” her laconic personal guard instructed.
She kicked out with a cry when meaty hands wrapped around her hips and she was boosted upwards with frightening speed. She flailed her arms and her wrists were captured in a firm grip. With a gratuitous press of hands to her behind, she was hauled through the opening with embarrassing efficiency.
The men around her grinned and leered at her, and a selection of choice comments lined up along her tongue. She settled for an indignant “well that was unnecessary” and brushed at her clothing with all the decorum she could manage.
The ornate and golden walls of the corridor she had emerged into were almost dazzling after the darkness of the tunnel below, but not altogether unexpected. She watched surreptitiously as greetings were exchanged between the returning party and the guards manning the unconventional entrance. Backs were slapped and shoulders clenched, the returning of brothers in arms from a dangerous mission. She felt uncomfortable under the questioning scrutiny of this strange welcoming committee, a confusing mix of appreciative appraisal and hostile caution.
The brusque display was interrupted by a shout of warning that echoed along the corridor, followed soon after by the muted thud of a nearby explosion. The floor moved beneath her feet and Vala reached for the wall to steady herself, a fine dusting of pulverised masonry coating her.
The unburdened men of their group launched into action, heading at a loping run towards the source of the impact. Calls of alarm, drumming footsteps and clacking weaponry sounded from intersections further along the corridor. Another group of men almost knocked Vala down as they sprinted past her, rounding a corner with a controlled skid.
“What’s going on?” Vala called towards their departing backs.
“With me,” her captor ordered his remaining men, wrapping a hand around Vala’s forearm to tug her along in his wake.
They dodged hurrying men at every turn, all hallways a hive of frantic activity. Vala’s eyes scoured the architecture for signs of its Goa’uld builder. The place had been stripped of identifying features. She didn’t recognise the decorative style.
As they passed deeper into the building, it became clear that much of the complex was badly damaged. The pattern of destruction was vaguely familiar; holes eaten away in otherwise smooth metal cladding, unusual patterns of corrosion, and wires dangling listlessly from wall panels like spilled innards. Debris had been cleared haphazardly to the sides of more well-worn routes and footsteps that would have rung grandiosely were muffled by accumulated dirt, stacked storage containers and piles of scavenged detritus.
At one point her foot connected with a small piece of metal and sent it tinkling into the shadows. She frowned at the familiar sound.
Half of her party peeled off at an intersection and slung their sacks to the ground with a heavy thunk. Vala held back long enough to catch a glimpse of zats and other miscellaneous weaponry spilling across the floor before she was herded onwards, a painful yank to her arm reminding her to keep her eyes forward.
She was finally propelled into a small control room, staggering until a console brought her momentum to a painful stop. Her handler jerked his head and the man carrying Daniel set his burden down on the floor.
Vala eyed her captor warily. He stalked towards her and circled the console, a predator toying with its prey. Vala was unimpressed. She strove to appear cowed and kept her eyes lowered.
“You will make this operational.”
Vala let her eyes rove over the console and its exposed panel of crystals, establishing almost immediately that it was likely to be of little strategic use to her. “What is it?”
“You tell me, little mechanic. I have heard great things of the infamous SG-1.”
Vala looked again, more closely this time. A test, surely? This was straightforward Goa’uld tech. Not something a Goa’uld would need her to mend. Or rather, her admittedly more technology-savvy compatriot.
She studied the crystal array before her. It was similar to field generator technology. A force shield? She let her palm rest over a depression in the control panel and a holographic readout sprang into being. She made a show of scanning the scrolling lettering and gave a dramatic shrug.
“As I thought,” she sighed, and shook her head sadly.
The man’s eyes narrowed.
She allowed the pause to stretch. “I can’t read it.”
“You are here to work, not to read.”
“Ah yes,” she replied, “but you know what they say about always reading the instructions. I wouldn’t want to, say, blow us all into a million vaporised pieces by pressing the wrong button.”
The man’s expression darkened dangerously, and she rallied her final gambit.
“But not to worry. He can help me.” She jerked her chin towards Daniel’s prone form and her captor followed her look. He eyed her for a moment, considering his options.
Vala held out her hand and wriggled her fingers.
With deliberate slowness, the man withdrew the healing device from the fold of his outerwear, his eyes locked with Vala’s. He held the device out in the air in front of him, not quite closing the distance, and waited.
Vala felt an uncomfortable prickle travel over the back of her neck. She smiled cautiously and reached out to take the proffered device, but he would not release his hold. The man’s scrutiny didn’t waver, a myriad of sentiments, none of them pleasant, communicated in that heated exchange.
“Um,” she began hesitantly, giving the device a gentle tug. “Can I have it?”
He made her wait several more excruciating seconds before releasing his grip, and she forced herself to murmur a resentful “thank you”.
She was wary of turning her back on him, yet anxious to start should he change his mind. She dropped to her knees at Daniel’s side and took several deep breaths, marshalling her reserves. She was exhausted and strung out, and she didn’t know how long she would be allowed to do this. She needed to focus as much of the device’s power as she could in a relatively short space of time. Dangerous, but doable.
Daniel lay pale and unmoving where he’d been placed, his skin cold and clammy to the touch. With trembling fingers she peeled back the makeshift dressing over the ugly wound at his temple. It was gummy with partially congealed blood. The whole left side of his head was a sticky, rusty mess, his hair matted and stiff and red.
She closed her eyes and tried to block out the looming presence of her captor, his loud breathing and sour smell at her shoulder.
Fitting her hand into the strap, she raised her arm and began. The familiar sensation of warm energy gathering in her chest and flowing down her arm was entirely psychological, she knew. She couldn’t actually feel this. There was no real transfer of energy from wielder to recipient. A combination of the naquadah in her blood and the bioelectric signals between the synapses of her brain triggered the mechanisms in the device, the strength of her will amplifying the latent functionality by degrees. But to her it would always feel like a more physical, tangible process, like a giving and taking of life force that she could sense with every fibre of her body. The effort it required was very real either way, and she fought to concentrate her mind as the golden glow spread and pulsed.
She prayed she was strong enough for this. She prayed it would be enough.
He was bad. As she had feared, her earlier efforts had not been enough. He had rallied briefly, but he’d needed more to stem the inevitable lapse in condition. She wasn’t too late. She could do this.
She parsed the feedback returning to her, teasing apart the nebulous streams of information and allowing them to guide her effort. Using her mind’s eye to map the delicate threads of data, she directed the current to where it was needed most, focussing on the deeper damage, repairing the crucial systems, relieving pressure, knitting fractured bone, sealing broken capillaries.
With each passing moment she could imagine herself pushing back death, beating it into submission and sweeping it aside. Serious trauma was reversing towards injury, the eventually fatal to the survivable, the critical to the treatable.
Vitals were levelling out.
It was working.
She opened her eyes and watched as the split along Daniel’s hairline began to pull together, the sluggish bleeding drying up and the skin smoothing out. Cosmetic, perhaps, but the sign she was looking for to confirm that the healing was progressing. Now if she could just concentrate a little harder on the worst of it, she was certain she could--
A savage blow knocked the healing device from her hand and sent it clattering across the enamelled floor.
“Enough,” her captor purred sweetly, his hot breath blasting across her ear.
Vala shuddered and cradled her throbbing fist to her chest. She bit down on a frustrated curse as she was jerked back forcefully by her hair.
“You. Get up.”
She leaned round in time to see Daniel blinking dazedly at the hand fisted in his collar, a brutal shaking threatening to snap his neck for him.
“Just give him a minute,” Vala entreated as she attempted to intervene. She was knocked back, hitting the ground again with bruising force.
“I said,” the man growled, his face thrust towards Daniel’s own, “Get. Up.”
He didn’t wait for a reply. He hauled Daniel up by his jacket and slammed him into the wall. Vala scrambled to her feet and jumped to his side.
“Let me help him. Please.”
The room shook with another tremor, knocking loose a cloud of dust and a pelting of ceiling fragments. From somewhere in the complex outside, someone blew a whistle.
The man curled his lip and released Daniel with a disgusted sneer. Vala planted her feet to catch some of his weight, gasping when rather more than she had anticipated bore down on her shoulder.
Their captor strode to the doorway and looked out, consulting with passing runners and barking orders to others. He turned back briefly to thrust an impatient finger at the console, and Vala took the hint.
“As much as I appreciate the effort, Daniel,” she grunted as she struggled to stand fully upright, “it’s at times like these that you could do with being a bit less unwieldy.”
“S-sorry,” he managed to slur, although Vala expected he wasn’t quite clear on what he was apologising for.
“Listen, think you can help me? You’re far too heavy to drag all the way across the room by myself. Come on, up and Adam.”
“At ‘em,” he corrected automatically, his eyes screwed tightly shut as Vala moved them both away from the support of the wall.
“Pardon?” she asked as she steadied him.
“It’s up and at ‘em. You said it…” He paused a moment and swallowed thickly. “You said it wrong,” he finished faintly.
With some wavering that reminded Vala of a colourful movie she’d watched once about an ice-skating deer, they made it up onto the raised platform and next to the console. She propped Daniel against it and he clutched the panel’s lip with a white-knuckled grip.
Sparing a furtive glance for their distracted captor, Vala began manipulating the controls until ethereal glyphs scrolled brightly across the display’s curved surface. She needed something that would look good. Preferably something flashing in a bright, warning red. Selecting the screen she wanted, she turned her head to speak loudly over her shoulder.
“It’s a good thing I’ve got the team linguist with me, let me tell you. Give me complicated and long-winded mathematical equations any day; none of this means the first thing to me!” The man approached, presumably to menace her, and she waved a dismissive hand at the readout screen with a self-depreciating facial shrug.
Next to her, Daniel frowned at her deeply. “Whuh? Val--“
“Now darling,” Vala hastened to interrupt, “you’ve taken quite a knock to the head. It’s understandable you’re confused. Try not to overtax yourself.” She petted the undamaged side of his head with solicitous condescension and rolled apologetic eyes at their captor.
“Fix it,” the man commanded, unamused. “Now.”
Vala nodded and turned to her weaving teammate. “I need your help now, Dr Jackson,” she explained slowly, trying to impart as much of her plan as she could through her earnest gaze. “Can you translate this section of text for me?”
She pointed to a block of lettering and Daniel peered myopically towards where she indicated.
“But…? W-wait. You can re-- ah!”
Vala promised herself she would apologise for that vicious pinch later.
“Please,” she implored, her eyes as full of meaning as she could make them.
Daniel squinted at her in open-mouthed confusion for a moment longer but turned to do as she’d asked.
Her captor watched her carefully as she crouched to work on the crystal array, being sure to time her movements to the instructions Daniel haltingly read out above her. The problem was actually quite a simple one to overcome, but she made a show of examining the inner circuitry, swapping some extraneous crystals over and pulling experimentally on the wiring.
“Ah ha!” she finally announced. “Here we are.”
She clipped the loose coupling back into place with a triumphant flourish and smiled up at her captor. It faded when the expected hum of energy failed to materialise.
“Hold on.” She gave the base of the console a swift kick. Blinking lights flickered on and crystals lit up obediently, the device whirring into life. She dusted her hands off theatrically. “There.”
Another distant explosion echoed through the building, but this time the pattering of debris was conspicuously absent. Vala glanced at the display to confirm what she had already guessed: an energy field was now being generated somewhere nearby, and if she was interpreting the readings correctly, it was holding up to some fairly sustained bombardment.
Her captor approached her, an ugly smirk across his twisted face. “Little mechanic,” he purred almost lovingly, his calloused hand sweeping approvingly over her cheek.
“Anton”, someone called breathlessly from the hallway. A messenger appeared in the doorway, a trickle of bright blood running down his face. “Sellon would see you now.”
---
Vala’s knees impacted the marble of the throne room floor with bone-jarring twin thumps. She generally wasn’t a fan of genuflection, particularly when she wasn’t the one on the receiving end of it.
Any banners or icons pertaining to the previous occupier had long since been removed, and even the more subtle nuances of ownership were hard to place. Vala noted with wry amusement that the new tenants had been unable to completely eliminate all sense of the elaborate, the ostentatious and the vulgar from the room; the monstrous chair dominating the dais before her drew all attention to it. Qetesh’s penchant had been for the severe. The contemptible little worm would have scoffed at the pomp in evidence here.
Daniel crumpled into position next to her and she turned to offer him a reassuring nudge. He was still pale but looked slightly less like he might collapse. He met her eyes and gave her a wan smile.
“How are you feeling?” she whispered, aware of the escorts standing at her back.
Daniel closed his eyes and took a slow breath. “Like I might throw up. But better.”
“You can thank me later,” she told him.
Their ugly friend was almost unrecognisable in this new setting, his aggressive demeanour replaced by an oily obsequiousness that set Vala’s teeth on edge. He was fawning to a man Vala hadn’t seen before. Presumably this was Sellon, master of all he surveyed. He had a self-possessed dignity about him that his subordinate lacked, and for all his obvious power appeared careworn and harassed. Far from finery or ornamentation, he was dressed much as his men, his garments twice mended and dirty. It was his regal air that radiated command and leadership, and if Vala was reading him right, he didn’t appear to like Anton very much at all.
Daniel shifted next to her with a wince, trying and failing to find a comfortable way to kneel. He leaned towards her conspiratorially. “Um, not to sound ungrateful or anything, but why is there grovelling?”
“Relax, Daniel. I’m handling it.”
“Huh. Is that what this is?”
The jab of plated toecaps reminded them both that silence was expected.
Sellon stepped slowly from the platform, Anton following eagerly in his wake. He circled his petitioners leisurely, coming to a stop before Vala. He crouched and reached out a hand to gently tuck her hair behind her ear. He said nothing for a long moment and held her gaze. Vala tried an innocent smile. The man’s expression hardened, and Vala felt her face drop.
“Who are you?”
She contorted her features into a look of bafflement. “I’m sorry, what?” The hand still curled in the hair by her ear tightened painfully. She winced. “Ow.”
Sellon stood and released her, turning to remount the dias. “This is not Major Carter of SG-1. Colonel Carter is clearly still at large.”
Anton swung her a murderous glare before hurrying to catch up with his commander. “But, the shielding!”
“A fluke, perhaps. We will need far more than that if we are to withstand a barrage from fresh forces, as you well know. We can spare no more resources to pursue this plan of yours. It had merit, but now it is time to reassess.”
Enraged and humiliated, Anton stormed from the platform and struck Vala a ringing backhand. Her lip reopened and flooded her mouth with iron, but she managed to remain upright. She straightened and faced her attacker. He towered over her, red-faced and nostrils flaring. She blew him a jaunty kiss.
He brought his arm back for another swing. Daniel’s protest was overridden by an unspoken order from the commander, and the guard behind Vala stepped forward to intercede.
“She can operate the technology, yes?” Sellon enquired from his position by the throne.
“Yes, I can.”
“Vala,” Daniel warned.
The commander flicked his eyes at their escorts and they were forced to stand.
“Then we may have use for you yet,” he said.
Part 4