SG1-16 Four Dragons (6 page)

That’s when it hit him. Kunlun was supposedly built by the real Emperor Yu Huang Shang-Ti. Was it possible that the System Lord Yu had something to do with this place? Impossible. P3Y-702 wasn’t on the Abydos Cartouche. The gate address came from Jack’s short-lived bout dealing with the Ancient depository in his head. Daniel stuck his glasses back on to examine more of the wall.

Correction, doors. A crack ran down the middle, but when he tried pushing on either side, the doors wouldn’t give. He took a step back and looked left, then right. The doors led into what appeared to be a sizeable chamber of sorts. At least a couple of hundred square feet.

Daniel looked up toward the top of the doors and saw additional writing that wasn’t Chinese. It was Ancient. He stepped back further. Somehow, he needed to get up there so he could translate the meaning. It made no sense. Chinese and Ancient all in one place.

Curious, he stepped forward yet again only to be caught in a surge of heat. A recognizable thrum filled the air. He threw up his arms, knocking his hat off, but he remained still, knowing he’d be cut in half if he ran.

The transportation rings activated, swallowing him in a stream of light.

* * *

 “
Gliders, sir. At least two dozen and coming in fast
.”

All thoughts of what a jackass he’d been to Daniel flew out the proverbial window as Jack looked due west. Two dozen winged bastards, no more than five klicks away and headed directly toward base camp. The trick now would be getting back to the gate which was over a mile away.

Jack thumbed his radio. “Roger that, Major. Teal’c, dial the gate. Daniel, get with SG-13. Dixon, you’ve got to push those eggheads through. Now. Confirm.”

He snatched up the P90 and raced down the hillside, ignoring any complaint his knees gave. Teal’c radioed in, as did Carter. As Jack jumped the last few yards off the hill, he reached for his radio again. Daniel still hadn’t made contact.

“
Sierra Golf One-Niner, this is Sierra Golf Thirteen-Niner
.”

Dixon. Jack stopped. He took in the utter chaos of the archaeologists grabbing crates, taking last second photos, acting like idiots. Meanwhile, the gliders took their sweet time coming in, barely pushing their engines. Like vultures swooping over a prey before going in for the kill.

“Tell those eggheads to drop their goodies,” Jack radioed Dixon. “Get Daniel. They’ll listen to him.”

“
Jackson’s not around, Jack. What do you want me to do?
”

Jack glanced toward the ruins and then back at the insanity. At the far end of the dig, SG-13 hustled folks out. Just in time, too. The gliders were only a klick away. They’d started a firing run, blasting everything in their path.

Like we needed a reminder
.

Trees blazed. The ground along the western edge burned. The winds had kicked up, filling the air with smoke.

It was time to get the hell out.

“Bug ‘em out,” Jack told Dixon on the radio.

A few yards away, Daniel’s old roommate — Haskins or Hotkins, whatever — shoved people toward the path leading to the gate. Smart man. Jack stuck that bit of information aside and ran toward the man. “Have you seen Daniel?”

Coughing, Hopkins pointed back toward the ruins at the north end. A few crumbling walls, but no Daniel.

“Get your people out of here, Doctor. That’s an order.”

Still coughing against the acrid smoke, Hopkins took off with his crew. The gliders changed formation, lining up into two wings with one leader at the head.

“Colonel O’Neill!”

Jack whipped back around. Running up to him was Airman Wells. Still wet behind the ears, but in the name of all that was holy, he had a grenade launcher in his mitts. It couldn’t take out twelve gliders though it might buy them some time.

“Get everyone out of here,” Jack shouted above the fire bursts coming from the gliders. “That includes yourself.”

Wells hesitated. Not a good sign. “But, sir!”

Jack jumped into the nearest dig hole. “Follow my orders, Airman. Tell Carter to keep the door open, I’ll be through as soon as I find Daniel.”

Wells nodded his assent and took off. The gliders came closer and Jack found himself torn between wanting the damned Jaffa pilots to hurry it up already and hoping for a bit more time so everyone could evacuate. He positioned the launcher’s PVC tubing on the edge of the dig hole and waited.

There. A glint of light.

Jack shot off a round. The grenade found its home dab smack in the middle of the leader’s canopy. The glider spun out of control and smashed into another glider on its right. The two birds careened to the ground in a burst of fire. The remaining ships veered off. No doubt to regroup.

Which bought Jack the time he’d need. He thumbed his radio once more. “Daniel, what’s your position?”

No answer.

Both Hopkins and Dixon had seen him go north. Jack tossed the now empty launcher and headed toward the walls. Two walls stood crosswise with enough space between them for a man to squeeze through if he wanted it bad enough.

Knowing Daniel, and how very much Jack must have pissed him off, he had to have come this way.

The whine of glider engines in the distance reminded him he had a minute, maybe two, before they made his position. Jack slipped through. No sign of Daniel, just a big-assed stone wall covered in writing with a set of doors in the middle. He stepped closer and looked down. Hatch marks, kicked up dirt. The telltale markings of recent ring activity circled the ground.

And there, just to one side, was Daniel’s hat.

* * *

The rings dropped away, leaving Daniel in a room which looked like every other ring room onboard a mothership. Jaffa lined the gold embossed walls. In front of them stood a young Asian man, his green-flecked black eyes peering back at Daniel from above a square jaw and slim face. His high forehead spoke of an aristocratic air born of intelligence, not blind faith. Though he was shorter than the other Jaffa — not more than five feet eight or nine inches — he carried himself with a quiet strength Daniel might have admired under other circumstances. Over his armor, the leader wore a gray woolen cloak, cinched off to the side with a jade broach. With implacable grace, he bowed to Daniel. On his forehead was the gold laced tattoo of a First Prime.

Yu’s First Prime.

“Welcome back, Dr. Jackson,” said the young man.

“I’m sorry,” Daniel said, looking askance at the First Prime. “We’ve never met.”

The First Prime smiled and stepped back. Rough hands grabbed Daniel, pushed him down to a kneeling position.

“Really. I have no idea who you are.”

“Jaffa!
Kree
,” ordered the First Prime.

A Jaffa strode forward, his head shaved except for a singular strand at the front. With a painful yank, he grabbed both Daniel’s arms, and before Daniel could even struggle he found both his wrists clamped tightly in irons, a prisoner of the Goa’uld.

Interlude

PLANET DESIGNATION: LORD YU’S

HOMEWORLD (P3X-042)

STATUS: ENEMY OCCUPIED TERRITORY

APPROX 2350 HRS LOCAL TIME

3 JUL 03/1310 HRS BASE TIME

Clink.

Sitting, watching, waiting for that goddamned moon to set.

Jack resisted the urge to kick himself for the umpteenth time. His open Zippo — correction, Skaara’s Zippo — taunted him. Made him want to light the thing up, wave it in the air, and let Yu and his minions know they were there to get back Daniel, no matter the cost.

Snap.

Jack slammed the lighter shut in disgust. That’d be one sure fire way to blow their cover.

Why the hell he’d said such a rotten thing about Oma to Daniel was beyond him. Hell, she’d saved his life. Sort of.

Thumbing the Zippo, Jack thought of Skaara and how Oma had saved the young man as well — and pretty much all of Abydos, which Jack still found hard to believe. One woman ascending an entire planet of people. Just the thought gave him a headache.

Jack raised his head and tried to figure out where Abydos was in the night sky. Carter would’ve been able to tell him, though technically, they weren’t speaking at the moment.

Not that he blamed her. It was his own damned fault.

Something caught in his throat. The wind must have picked up or he probably inhaled some dirt.

He had to believe Daniel was still alive and whole. That they wouldn’t need Oma to save him again.

Enough already. The moon had reached its zenith right above Yu’s fortress. Just a few more hours and Daniel would be out of there. Sure, they’d have to crawl through a few klicks of mangled woods, penetrate a forcefield, and fight off enough Jaffa to start an entire football league. But this is what SG-1 did. They pushed the limits, never quitting.

Even when those limits were imposed by shrubs too busy polishing their post-White House resumes. God forbid they took a moment to recognize Daniel’s life was
not
a political football.

Jack shoved the lighter into his vest and sat back, waiting for the moon to set. The other limitations, those other obstacles… They could go to hell.

Chapter Three

STARGATE COMMAND

STATUS: STANDBY/PERSONNEL MIA

1 JUL 03/2130 HRS BASE TIME

“It is difficult, losing a fellow warrior so soon after their return.”

Teal’c could only nod his head in agreement with Master Bra’tac, the situation far too grave to speak. Words would not bring Daniel Jackson back. Only action could. Action against the Goa’uld who had taken him.

Who that Goa’uld was remained uncertain.

Across the briefing room table, O’Neill was equally silent. His face was ashen, the set of his chin assured Teal’c that he, too, was prepared to take whatever actions necessary. Yet, there was something more at work in SG-1’s commanding officer’s mind. That much was clear in the way he sat, stiller than normal, his eyes focused downward.

Teal’c recognized the mannerisms. “You cannot blame yourself, O’Neill. The System Lord who took Daniel Jackson is the one at fault here. Not you.”

“Yeah, whatever,” O’Neill muttered, never looking up. “Try explaining that to Daniel.”

Indeed, Teal’c wished he could. It had been barely a month since Daniel Jackson’s return from his ascended state. In that time, their mutual bond, forged by shared conflicts and strengthened by adversity, had grown to a new level of respect and trust.

“Have you no idea who attacked you?” asked Bra’tac.

O’Neill snapped his fingers. “Gee, you know what I forgot to do? Get the number off that glider’s license plate.”

When Bra’tac’s eyes narrowed, O’Neill held up his hands in apology.

“Sorry, this isn’t exactly me on my best behavior.”

“Perhaps Major Carter will have success in contacting the Tok’ra,” offered Teal’c.

“Hammond’s with her now,” O’Neill said with a nod. “I’m guessing the Jaffa rebels haven’t heard any chatter.”

“They have not,” answered Bra’tac. “Our Fifth Column has yet to recover from the massacre of
Kresh’ta
. While rebels are easily drafted so that they may escape the reigns of the Goa’uld, the call for Jaffa to work from within has gone unheard. Fear of the System Lords still presses upon them.” The Jaffa Master looked down at the table and for a moment, he matched O’Neill in pose.

Teal’c closed his eyes, allowing the muffled sounds of the base to wash over him. The night’s watch officer typed quietly on a keyboard in the far corner of the room. Murmured voices drifted up the stairwell from the control room below, voices that spoke of a simple life. A child’s baseball game, the purchase of a new car, the upcoming July 4th fireworks display.

Someone new to the S.G.C. would hear these discussions and believe those under General Hammond’s command did not care about Daniel Jackson.

They would be very wrong.

* * *

 “Unscheduled off-world activation.”

Sirens wailed. Technicians raced around the control room. Through the observation window, Sam looked on as Marines thundered through the blast doors to meet the incoming wormhole, rifles at the ready. Without knowing who’d taken Daniel, the entire base was on heavy alert.

The gate erupted its violent
kawoosh
of energy and then settled into an event horizon that led from… where?

Sitting beside Sergeant Harriman, Sam held her breath, waiting for the answer as the iris slid shut. Standing behind her, General Hammond clasped her shoulder. His support was appreciated, yet she suspected tonight he needed it as much as her.

“Who do we have, Sergeant?”

The colonel, Teal’c and Bra’tac rushed in and crowded close behind her. Everyone’s attention was on the nearest display as the computer generated a radio graph representation of a radio signal. In the brief moment it took for the computer to recognize the signal, the general’s hand tightened on her shoulder.

“It’s the Tok’ra, General,” said Harriman.

With a sigh, General Hammond released his grip. “Open the iris.”

Before Sam was out of her chair, the colonel had fled down the stairs. With a nod to the general, she hurried after him, Teal’c and Bra’tac right behind her. As she raced down the steps and into the gate room, Sam tried her hardest to be optimistic. Anything less served no purpose.

More importantly, it wouldn’t get Daniel back.

A recognizable figure, dressed in the brown leathers recently adopted by the rebel Goa’uld, slipped through the gate’s watery façade. Sam ran up the ramp to embrace her father, Jacob Carter. No, it wasn’t militarily proper, but she’d long ago allowed herself this one trespass. Every time she saw her father might be the last. She’d learned that lesson long ago.

He returned her hug. “Hey, kiddo. I got here as fast as I could.” Patting a pack on his shoulder, he added, “Had to grab some supplies that might come in handy.”

As they walked down the ramp, General Hammond entered. “Stand down. My apologies, Jacob. With Dr. Jackson’s capture, we can’t be too careful.”

“I’d do the same, George.” Her father nodded to Colonel O’Neill, Teal’c and Bra’tac.

The colonel’s eyes reflected relief mixed with restraint as he returned the greeting. “Any word on the Tok’ra grapevine?”

“Well… it looks like you can thank Lord Yu for Daniel’s disappearance. Apparently, he’s been on the System Lord’s radar for some time now, according to Tok’ra intelligence.”

The general led them out through an oddly empty corridor, and it took a moment for Sam to remember how late it was. S.G.C. was an around-the-clock operation, but nighttime was usually relegated to a skeleton crew.

Halfway up the stairs, the colonel stopped and spun around, blocking anyone from going any further. “Are the Tok’ra going to help us or not?”

Sam felt her father tense up beside her. She knew he genuinely liked and respected Colonel O’Neill, but any mention of the Tok’ra brought a wall up between them. The colonel’s dislike was born of suspicions not always unjustified. Too many cases of incomplete intelligence from the Tok’ra, mixed with his own bad experience blended with a symbiote, left Colonel O’Neill less than patient with their allies.

“I’m here, Jack,” said her dad. “That should account for something.”

“Yes,” the colonel replied. “Yes, it does.”

They climbed the remainder of the stairs and entered the briefing room. Once General Hammond took his seat at the head, everyone else followed.

“So when do we leave?” asked the colonel.

“Not so fast, Jack,” her father said. “I said I was here to help, but there’s no way I can come with you. I’ve spent too much time as an operative inside Yu’s ranks. Anyone sees me, it’ll jeopardize a lot of hard work.”

Before the colonel could respond, Teal’c jumped in. “Then how can your presence here be of assistance?”

“Tactical advantages.” Her father placed his pack on the table. He pulled out a folded paper-like sheet and spread it out on the table. Thicker than normal paper, Sam realized the material was papyrus. If Daniel was around, he’d have been all over it.

She boxed that thought up good and tight and studied what appeared to be multi-leveled floor plans. From the writing off to the side, she hazarded a guess as to what they were. “These are plans to Yu’s fortress.”

Her father nodded. “According to my inside contact, Daniel’s being held either here,” he pointed to the second highest floor, “or he’s up in Yu’s throne room.” His finger slid up toward what appeared to be an observation tower.

General Hammond pointed to a red shaded area that ran around the fortress perimeter. “Is this anything to worry about?”

“Yu has a high-level shield surrounding the premises.”

“We’ve experienced Goa’uld energy shields before.” She shared a glance with Colonel O’Neill as he pulled the plans closer.

“Not like this,” her father said. “It’s different from anything the other System Lords use.”

The colonel passed the plans over to Teal’c and Bra’tac. “So… what? We can’t get inside if we can’t knock out the shields?”

“That’s where these come in.” Her father held up a green tear-drop shaped stone, no more than two inches in length. Sitting next to him, Sam felt a slight tingle along her spine.

“Naquadah?” She took the stone and examined it. A foot-long silk cord poked through a small hole at one end, allowing the stone to be worn like a pendant. Lord Yu’s sigil was engraved on one side, a downward slash crossed by what looked like an inverted pitchfork.

“It’s a jade/naquadah composite.” He placed three more of the stones on the table. “Centuries ago, Yu got his hands on some sort of photonic energy generator. Nobody’s sure where he got it from, though all the higher ups in his service wear them. The jade works like a filter, allowing the bearer to walk right through the shields.”

Bra’tac grunted. “I will accompany you on this mission. Not only do I personally owe Daniel Jackson for guiding you to our rescue from Baal’s slave camp, but it is also my hope that we may recruit new members to the Fifth Column from amongst Yu’s Jaffa. So far, they have been the most difficult to sway.”

“You know,” Colonel O’Neill said as he picked up one of the stones, “green really isn’t my color of choice.”

Sam appreciated the humor, but was stuck on the significance of Yu possessing what was still only theoretical. At least on Earth. “Sir, if Yu’s found a way to harness photonic energy — ”

Her father stopped her. “I didn’t say he’d developed it. It’s possible the device is of Ancient design.”

“Yeah, but Dad, photons are the backbone of electromagnetic radiation. Because the photon has no rest mass, interactions can happen at long distances.”

“Like photon torpedoes,” the colonel said.

“That’s science fiction, sir. I mean, sure, I’ve read papers on photochemistry, so yes, I suppose they could be used for munitions purposes.”

“Major, are you saying we could have a System Lord out there with an entirely new type of weapon?” asked General Hammond.

“Possibly, General, but that’s not why I think this is significant. A photon is pure energy. It registers as both a particle and as a wave,
and
there’s barely any discernable heat. It’s when an atom absorbs photonic energy that you have an effect. The more absorption, the more heat — ”

“Carter!”

“What I’m saying, sir,” this last she said to the general as much as to her impatient commanding officer, “is that if we rescue Daniel
and
can get our hands on this generator — if we could study how it concentrates and directs the energy stream — it would be a significant breakthrough for both military and civilian use. It might even help us in our fight against Anubis.”

General Hammond rose from the table, gesturing for his officers to stay seated. “I’ll contact the president immediately.”

“Isn’t it a bit late?” asked the colonel, glancing at his watch. “Besides, this is a rescue mission. I thought you only had to contact the big man on new operations.”

The general hesitated a moment, pressing his lips together. Finally, “The president has recently requested all S.G.C. operations — new or otherwise — be run through him first.”

Sam didn’t like the sound of that, but it was Teal’c who asked the question she couldn’t. “Has the president lost confidence in our efforts, General Hammond?”

“Pressure to justify the Stargate program hasn’t been easy as of late, what with the upcoming elections.”

“Kinsey’s saber-rattling now that he has a stump to stand on,” the colonel said. “Makes you wonder about a political party dumb enough to nominate him as their vice presidential candidate.”

“I’m not sure that’s the problem,” Hammond said. “But this president has supported our work through thick and thin. The least we can do is honor his requests.” He paused a moment longer and then headed into his office, closing the door behind him.

Sam turned the pendant over in her hand and examined the darker backing. “The naquadah must act as an amplifier for the jade’s filtration process.”

The colonel dropped his stone to the table. “Let’s make something clear, Major. We’re going in to rescue Daniel.”

“Of course, sir, but — ”

“But nothing.” His eyes darkened. “Daniel’s the priority. Carter, I need you to have my back on this. We need to move fast, before Yu decides he’s grown bored and decides to either kill Daniel… or snake him.”

“I’m as anxious to get him back as you are, sir, though I also believe there’s a tactical advantage to studying this generator.”

“An immediate one?”

“Yes, sir. It might make the difference between a successful recovery or not.”

“She’s right, Jack.” Her father pointed toward the pendants. “If you want to get Daniel out of there in one piece, you’re going to need to understand what you’re up against.”

“Then run me through the science again, Major. Short and sweet.” The colonel picked up the pendant again and offered her a small grin. “You think the color matches my jacket?”

* * *

“Kneel before your god.”

Heavy hands shoved Daniel to his knees in what appeared to be a large, smoke-filled room. ‘Appeared’ was the key because without his glasses, Daniel could barely make out where he was, let alone who else was there. The Jaffa had taken everything; his tactical vest, jacket, belt, side arm and knife. They’d even taken his socks and boots.

Escape was not going to be easy.

“Leave us,” announced a booming voice Daniel recognized all too well. Squinting in its direction, he barely made out the red
mianfu
vest of Lord Yu, sitting across from him at a low wooden table.

Two sets of footsteps retreated, a door closed, and suddenly Daniel wasn’t sure if he should feel safer or not.

He tested the waters. “Are you going to tell me why I’m here?”

Yu grunted and held out…

Daniel’s glasses.

“Take them,” Yu commanded.

Daniel put his glasses back on, turning away as much as he could to cover the shake in his hands. Adrenaline mixed with enough fear to make him wonder if he’d ever get away, although… It did seem as if the Goa’uld wanted him alive. The Jaffa had fed him on the mothership, and other than taking away pretty much everything Daniel had on him, they hadn’t treated him
that
badly.