Familiar Strangers - Part 3
Nov. 18th, 2006 02:42 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maychorianExcerpt:
--
Jack slipped easily into this persona he created for himself. He knew that Daniel was doing the same—only Daniel would believe it, making it real, making himself release everything and be open to new people, new experiences. Daniel was like that.
No, more than “like that”—that was who Daniel was. Always open, trusting, wanting to discover, to learn. Believing all good of the universe until it had been proved to him conclusively that the good wasn’t there, and then still thinking he could find it somewhere.
--
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3: The Face of Innocence
Jack stood and faced the branches that hid the entrance to the cave, holding himself rock still in the old habit of a seasoned soldier and the instinctive reaction of an animal at bay. Voices, canine sounds, rattling of leashes and the clicks and whines of weapons charging. They were coming.
Fighting—no good. Running—wouldn’t work. Surrender—not an option.
And that left . . .
Subterfuge.
“Is there a back exit to this cave?” Daniel asked, his voice high and tight.
Jack shot him a glare. Of course there was a back exit. No member of the United States Armed Forces—any branch—would be stupid enough to get trapped in a dead-end. That was the first thing he and Teal’c had checked before okaying this location for a campsite. You always have several paths of retreat open. Like gophers.
Daniel inclined his head, acknowledging that that had been a stupid question.
Jack wasted no more time. Their course of action was set. “Teal’c, you and Carter take Obi-Wan. If there are more waiting outside the back entrance, hide behind that sweet little curve in the tunnel we found and wait for a clear retreat. Daniel and I will introduce ourselves as the nice friendly inter-galactic tourists who have no clue why everyone is carrying a gun.”
Nods from his savvy teammates. They caught on quick, his people. Jack allowed himself a swift, warm burst of pride.
Teal’c crossed the cave in three smooth strides and gathered the kid into his arms, blankets and all. Carter hoisted her pack and led the way deeper into the cave, P-90 cradled, eyes sharp. Daniel moved up to Jack’s side, steps firm, expression calm. This was going to be mostly his show, and he knew it, and was ready on a second’s notice. That was his archaeologist, and Jack would never trade him.
As half their team disappeared into the cave behind them, Jack stepped forward and carefully removed the branches from the cave entrance, making it appear that they had never been hiding. They were explorers, that was all, newly arrived, curious, excited. They knew nothing about this galaxy. They brought no prejudices and biases with them, only hopes to find friends and allies. Jack slipped easily into this persona he created for himself. He knew that Daniel was doing the same—only Daniel would believe it, making it real, making himself release everything and be open to new people, new experiences. Daniel was like that.
No, more than “like that”—that was who Daniel was. Always open, trusting, wanting to discover, to learn. Believing all good of the universe until it had been proved to him conclusively that the good wasn’t there, and then still thinking he could find it somewhere. It was who Daniel was, and who he had made himself be in order to survive all the crap the galaxy flung at him. He had to believe in good, because otherwise the bad would overwhelm him. Jack understood that about Daniel, trusted the abilities it gave him, even admired him for it—but Jack could never be that person.
Because while Jack could wear the face of innocence and openness, always behind it he would be a soldier. He would be the commanding officer of a front-line team, constantly assessing everything and everyone he encountered—for threat, for potential, for risk. He had to see the bad in order to guard against it. He had to think like the bad, adapt himself to it, stay ahead of it, even imitate it—and sometimes he was afraid that he would become it. So far he had managed to stay one step ahead of that final fall, but he could always feel it stalking him, waiting for him to make the fatal little slip that would plunge him forever into darkness.
So, yeah, Jack understood Daniel, trusted him, admired him. And sometimes he ignored him, subverted him, insulted him and shoved him away. But he always needed him, and knew he always would.
Jack slung his weapon over his back and stepped out of the cave, a half-step in front of Daniel. They stood there shoulder to shoulder as the perimeter alarm continued to wail and people holding weapons began to circle them. The colonel raised his eyebrows, glancing around at the hardened expressions, the confused eyes. “Something we can do for you boys?”
An officer stepped out from behind the others and started barking something difficult to hear over the alarm. Jack winced and cupped his ear. “Sorry, can’t understand you—hold on a second, will ya? Let me shut off the alarm.”
He shouldered his way through the surrounding guards, showing no respect for their weapons and attitudes, and they let him reach the tree and reach up to silence the alarm. As soon as it was quiet Daniel was talking, introducing them, revealing their mission of peaceful exploration to all and sundry.
“You see, back in our own galaxy we’re at war with a race called the Goa’uld, a parasitical species who take the bodies and minds of their captives and use them for their own ends. They’re especially fond of using humans, though other races are not immune. Our planet faces annihilation unless we can find a means to defend ourselves, and we . . .”
The grumpy officer gestured sharply, cutting Daniel off. “We’re not interested in you,” he said. “We’re searching for an escaped prisoner. An exceedingly dangerous escaped prisoner. It’s imperative that we find and retrieve him as soon as possible. Have you two encountered anyone else in these woods?”
Daniel and Jack exchanged glances. “No, no one,” Daniel said, his eyes wide and guileless. “I mean, we’re looking for someone to talk to, but we hadn’t found anyone. Until you showed up here, of course. We did watch a complex of buildings for a while, hoping for someone to come out.” He gestured vaguely back where they came from. “But it was locked up pretty tight. Is that where you’re from? It’s a prison?”
The officer nodded impatiently, dark eyes glittering with suspicion. “You’re sure you saw no one? His trail leads directly to this spot.”
Jack blinked at him. “Really? That’s odd.” He cast a disbelieving look on the two canine creatures being restrained in the circle of men surrounding them. Two. That meant the others were probably already circling back around the hill, finding the other cave entrance. “Are you sure your dogs followed the right scent? Your prisoner’s trail probably crossed ours back at the ridge there, and I’m sure we’re more interesting to your animals. Being from another galaxy and all.”
The officer wrinkled his nose. “These are highly trained Special Forces attack canoids. They do not get fooled by cross-trails. Especially not four of them at the same time.”
“Well, maybe your escapee passed by us in the night. We had to sleep sometime.”
Daniel nodded enthusiastically. “Perhaps we can help you look for him, as a token of our good will to your people. Can you describe him?”
The officer scowled fiercely at him, then seemed to relent. “He’s a Jedi—a member of the most dangerous military force in this galaxy, brainwashed from infancy in a religious cult and capable of things you probably believe to be impossible. Telekinesis, mind control, extraordinary feats of physical prowess. In another age his kind would be hunted down and executed for the extreme risk they pose to society, but our government, the Republic, allows them free reign—gives them special status, the creatures of the Senate!”
Okay, well, that had gotten a bit off track. Jack let the man rant. It was giving them a lot more information about these guys and about the galactic politics than they would get by simply asking. Daniel’s eyes were wide, taking it all in—and he also was smart enough not to interrupt.
But the man from the prison seemed shake himself, then, and glared at Daniel as if it was his fault he’d gotten distracted. “This prisoner . . . do not let his mask of innocence fool you. He appears to be a mere boy, approximately fifteen standard years old. He is not tall or large or extraordinary in any way. Some may even call him charming. But he is a Jedi.”
Daniel gave him a slow, serious nod. “I understand. We haven’t seen anyone, certainly not a boy like that.”
Grumpy Officer’s eyes were sharp and narrow. “Then you won’t mind if we have the canoids sniff out your little hideaway, here.”
“No, of course not.”
Jack stepped aside as the two Special Forces moved in. His jaw clenched, but he was careful not let the muscles on his jaw bunch, revealing his agitation. There was no way to know if Carter and Teal’c had gotten out in time.
That is, there was no way for him to know right now. If those dog-things started barking in a moment here, they would all know.
X
Sam pressed her back against the rough cave wall, resting in Teal’c’s large, reassuring shadow. To the left, she could just see a corner of light gleaming beyond the curve of the tunnel, bright and morning-warm. There were voices out there, soft and sparse, and sniffing, jingling noises that sounded an awful lot like tracking dogs. To the right was the dimness of the main chamber emptied of SG-1’s presence, and the safe, familiar voices of Daniel and the colonel snowing the natives.
She glanced up at Teal’c, saw his broad dark head tilted in listening. Obi-Wan’s head was sheltered in the gentle dip between the Jaffa’s chest and shoulder, limp and heavy still in unconsciousness, his long legs draped over Teal’c’s arm and touching hers. As time passed and the man talking to her teammates became more and more vociferous in his hatred of the Jedi, Sam found herself staring at the boy harder and harder. Was that a flicker of movement, his eyelash twitching? Was his breath quickening?
It was too soon for the boy to wake. All of the half-healed wounds she’d just inspected flashed before her mind’s eye, and she knew beyond a doubt that it was too soon. It was bad for Teal’c to be interrupted in the middle of kel’no’reem—he was always unsettled and unbalanced when that happened, often for days, until he managed to regain equilibrium. He would have more trouble healing from incidental injuries like bruises and cuts, and sometimes he was even almost . . . cranky, if such a word could be applied to a man who kept his emotions under incredibly tight mental control.
This healing meditation Obi-Wan used . . . it was not the same as kel’no’reem. This was something deeper, harder, much more mysterious and much, much more powerful. Teal’c relied on the genetic healing factor of a parasite that lived in his belly. Obi-Wan relied on a power he called the Force, something outside himself—and capable of giving him astonishing abilities, if what that man outside said was true. It was akin to the difference between using the power of a campfire to cook a meal and harnessing the power of a star to move a solar system—or create a black hole. Sam was intimately familiar with this kind of difference. It was nothing to be trifled with.
If interrupting Teal’c’s meditation had a bad effect on him, it was a safe bet that interrupting Obi-Wan would do something a lot a worse. Sam wasn’t quite sure how bad it would be, but she was thinking in exponents.
Even as she watched, hoping it wouldn’t happen, Obi-Wan’s eyes slowly slid open, instantly bright and alert in the dimness of the cave. He didn’t move so much as a hair’s-breadth, but Teal’c instantly felt the change and looked down at the young face nestled against him. The boy simply lifted his chin by the barest increment, his expression calm and controlled, telling them without words that they needn’t worry about him.
Sam couldn’t help it, though.
Obi-Wan seemed to know it—he gave her the slightest of smiles, meant to be reassuring and encouraging, then tilted his head slightly as he listened to the muffled conversation taking place outside the cave. She felt Teal’c’s eyes on her and looked up to meet his gaze. No doubt about it—they were both completely out of their depth here.
“Then you won’t mind if we have the canoids sniff out your little hideaway, here.”
Sam stiffened as the sneering words filtered back to them. These canoids obviously had a highly developed sense of smell, considering that they’d been able to track Obi-Wan’s scent even after Teal’c had begun to carry him. Earth bloodhounds would have lost the trail there. Even if the three of them were able to flee the cave now—which they weren’t—these creatures would continue to hunt them down. No escape.
Slowly, Sam felt her finger slip into the trigger guard of her P-90, still cradled in her arm and pointing down. She had not made the decision to move—her body simply reacted to the threat coming toward them. Fighting was impossible, she knew that. It wouldn’t work. But she couldn’t let these monsters recapture Obi-Wan. He had already suffered far too much at their hands, far too much for a young boy, Jedi or not.
And, yeah, SG-1 didn’t know the entire truth of the situation. For all they knew, this angry man’s description of the Jedi could be more accurate than Obi-Wan’s reverent little speech last night. It was always, always, bad, bad trouble for them to get involved with internal politics on another world. Daniel would be the first one to say this, but Sam wouldn’t be far behind him—not anymore, anyway. They’d been burned enough.
But actions spoke louder than words. And these people had been holding Obi-Wan captive, had been torturing and interrogating him, simply because he was a Jedi. The right in this situation was clear to Sam.
She wouldn’t let them take him again.
Without meaning to, though, she let her finger slip out of the trigger guard again. A strange calm settled over her, gentle and easy, not controlling, but smoothing over her agitation like balm over a wound . . . Startled, Sam jerked her head up, staring at Obi-Wan. He gazed back at her serenely, and tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement.
It was him, his calm transferring to her. She’d never felt anything like it. Maybe that man out there had a point. The Jedi were incredibly powerful, and power could be misused.
But Obi-Wan wasn’t forcing her to do anything. He was just . . . reassuring her.
The canoids were snuffling around in the main chamber now; Sam could hear them clearly. She peeked cautiously around the edge of the tunnel, then ducked back, only then processing what she had seen in that guarded flash of vision. The two men had something like flashlights, beams swinging around the cave in an orderly search pattern. One of the canoids was still sniffing the spot where Obi-Wan had lain last night, and the other one was heading straight for them.
Despite Obi-Wan’s calm on her, Sam felt her breath and heart rate quicken. The boy seemed so completely passive—would he let himself be recaptured, merely to spare his new friends? She couldn’t allow it!
A gentle tug on the sleeve of her shoulder arrested her cascading thoughts, and she glanced back to find a slim, pale hand clenched in the fabric there. She followed the arm back to Obi-Wan’s face, and saw the firm, almost stern set of his mouth. No, surrender was not his plan. He would not so quickly discard the gift of their protection.
He released her shoulder, his hand still resting outside the shelter of the blankets wrapped around him, firmly held by Teal’c. His gaze slid past her, to the coming enemy. Sam pressed herself against the wall again as she heard them coming—both of them now, metal jangling, the two handlers’ boots treading loud on the rock.
The Special Forces men came around the bend in the tunnel. Sam waited for the shouts, the howls. She watched the canine noses, waiting for them to snap up, on point. She squinted her eyes half-shut in preparation for the light beams hitting them, zeroing in on their faces.
Nothing happened. The two men and two animals came toward them, searching everywhere. The beams of light swept back and forth. The canoids kept their noses to the ground, moving directly to them. One of them sniffed Teal’c’s boot. Sam’s fists clenched around her gun, but she didn’t move, didn’t breathe.
Then the searchers continued moving down the tunnel. They didn’t even twitch toward them—didn’t register their presence at all. Sam didn’t believe it.
She raised her head to stare at Obi-Wan again, her eyes so wide that they hurt. His hand was stretched out toward the men and canoids, following them, as if connected by an invisible line. His face was set, his concentration intense. Sweat shone on his pale skin, which was rapidly draining of the little color he’d managed to gain in his healing meditation.
Then the searchers passed out of the tunnel into the air outside, met by those already there, and continued moving on. Gradually the sounds of the search moved off, faded. It made no sense.
Obi-Wan slowly lowered his hand, then suddenly gasped as the tension fled from his frame and he fell helplessly back against Teal’c’s chest. “Gone,” he choked out between pants for breath. “They’re . . . gone. They’ll keep going. They believe we are not here.”
“How . . .” Sam stared down the tunnel, then back to the exhausted boy. “What did you do?”
“The weak mind can be influenced,” he said softly. “I have a bit of talent with that particular skill.”
No duh, shnikey. Sam gazed blankly down the cave again. Holy Hannah. Mind control. It was mind control.
“Please don’t be afraid,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice suddenly pleading and very, very young. “Please don’t fear me. We only use this skill when the need is very great, I swear to you. It was how I escaped from my cell back in the prison—otherwise I would still be there, would still . . . Please. Don’t fear me.”
Sam made herself look back at his face. She saw how miserable he was, how drained and empty, how sorrowful that who he was should be a fearful thing to her. Teal’c’s hand rose from where it held the boy’s shoulder and gently cupped his pale, sweaty face, offering his understanding.
She could only offer him a smile, weak and shaky as it was. “You—you saved us,” she stuttered. “You did what you had to do.”
He gave a slow, uncertain nod, and smiled hopefully back at her. “We should wait a bit, but soon it will be safe for us to leave.”
Sam nodded.
Yes. Leaving sounded good.
X
Jack waited with Daniel, listening to the sounds of the search inside. For the sake of the guards surrounding them he affected indifference, slouching against the rocky hillside, hands tucked into his pockets. Daniel kept trying to engage Grumpy Officer in a cultural dialogue, still being his apparently clueless, one-track-mind self. It was a great act—a couple of times it even fooled Jack.
But then he would notice the tension across Daniel’s shoulders, the sharpness of his movements even more pronounced than usual, and would know that he was afraid.
The officer slashed his hand in front of Daniel’s face, cutting off his latest monologue, when the device in his hand buzzed to life. He lifted it to his face and messed with a couple of dials. “Report.”
The voice over the communicator was clear and crisp, and Jack could hear the canoids in the background. “Sir, the cave was empty. The main chamber did have some signs of recent habitation, but everything else looked untouched. However, the canoids are still on the trail. We’re in the woods again, on the opposite side of the ridge.”
“Understood.” The officer looked up at the guards standing around, and made a few short, military gestures with his hand. Three-fourths of them took off, heading over the ridge in loping strides. “Sending Squads 4, 5 and 6 to join you. I have some unfinished business here. Do not break off the search until the prisoner has been found. Regular reports.”
“Command received. Hunt 1 out.”
Grumpy Officer lowered the communicator and stared at Jack and Daniel with narrowed eyes. The squad still here stood with weapons ready, attentive to his every word. “Well, it appears that the prisoner did pass through here in the night. I find it hard to believe that he managed this without waking you, though.”
Jack shrugged. “Hey, you don’t know us very well. We both sleep like the dead.”
He immediately regretted his choice of analogy, though, when the officer’s lip curled in disbelief. “You are a military man, O’Neill, it is quite plain. Military men sleep lightly, especially ones who frequently travel to unknown territories, as you claim you do. And you did not set a watch, in this unknown and possibly hostile territory? Preposterous.”
“We’d already scouted the place out. We knew there was no danger.”
The officer continued to study them. The suspicion in his face did not lighten. Jack’s gut continued to tighten, and it still hadn’t even let up from yesterday.
“You claim to be peaceful explorers, here to meet us, in search of allies and trade. Yes?”
“Yes,” Daniel said eagerly, one foot lifted as if to step forward.
“Well, you’ve found us. I’ll take you to our leaders to begin discussing what you can offer in return for our support.”
A contemptuous smile curled his mouth, and he swept his hand expansively toward the prison in a mockery of invitation. “Please, follow me.”
And they did. They had to.
Part 4
--
Jack slipped easily into this persona he created for himself. He knew that Daniel was doing the same—only Daniel would believe it, making it real, making himself release everything and be open to new people, new experiences. Daniel was like that.
No, more than “like that”—that was who Daniel was. Always open, trusting, wanting to discover, to learn. Believing all good of the universe until it had been proved to him conclusively that the good wasn’t there, and then still thinking he could find it somewhere.
--
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3: The Face of Innocence
Jack stood and faced the branches that hid the entrance to the cave, holding himself rock still in the old habit of a seasoned soldier and the instinctive reaction of an animal at bay. Voices, canine sounds, rattling of leashes and the clicks and whines of weapons charging. They were coming.
Fighting—no good. Running—wouldn’t work. Surrender—not an option.
And that left . . .
Subterfuge.
“Is there a back exit to this cave?” Daniel asked, his voice high and tight.
Jack shot him a glare. Of course there was a back exit. No member of the United States Armed Forces—any branch—would be stupid enough to get trapped in a dead-end. That was the first thing he and Teal’c had checked before okaying this location for a campsite. You always have several paths of retreat open. Like gophers.
Daniel inclined his head, acknowledging that that had been a stupid question.
Jack wasted no more time. Their course of action was set. “Teal’c, you and Carter take Obi-Wan. If there are more waiting outside the back entrance, hide behind that sweet little curve in the tunnel we found and wait for a clear retreat. Daniel and I will introduce ourselves as the nice friendly inter-galactic tourists who have no clue why everyone is carrying a gun.”
Nods from his savvy teammates. They caught on quick, his people. Jack allowed himself a swift, warm burst of pride.
Teal’c crossed the cave in three smooth strides and gathered the kid into his arms, blankets and all. Carter hoisted her pack and led the way deeper into the cave, P-90 cradled, eyes sharp. Daniel moved up to Jack’s side, steps firm, expression calm. This was going to be mostly his show, and he knew it, and was ready on a second’s notice. That was his archaeologist, and Jack would never trade him.
As half their team disappeared into the cave behind them, Jack stepped forward and carefully removed the branches from the cave entrance, making it appear that they had never been hiding. They were explorers, that was all, newly arrived, curious, excited. They knew nothing about this galaxy. They brought no prejudices and biases with them, only hopes to find friends and allies. Jack slipped easily into this persona he created for himself. He knew that Daniel was doing the same—only Daniel would believe it, making it real, making himself release everything and be open to new people, new experiences. Daniel was like that.
No, more than “like that”—that was who Daniel was. Always open, trusting, wanting to discover, to learn. Believing all good of the universe until it had been proved to him conclusively that the good wasn’t there, and then still thinking he could find it somewhere. It was who Daniel was, and who he had made himself be in order to survive all the crap the galaxy flung at him. He had to believe in good, because otherwise the bad would overwhelm him. Jack understood that about Daniel, trusted the abilities it gave him, even admired him for it—but Jack could never be that person.
Because while Jack could wear the face of innocence and openness, always behind it he would be a soldier. He would be the commanding officer of a front-line team, constantly assessing everything and everyone he encountered—for threat, for potential, for risk. He had to see the bad in order to guard against it. He had to think like the bad, adapt himself to it, stay ahead of it, even imitate it—and sometimes he was afraid that he would become it. So far he had managed to stay one step ahead of that final fall, but he could always feel it stalking him, waiting for him to make the fatal little slip that would plunge him forever into darkness.
So, yeah, Jack understood Daniel, trusted him, admired him. And sometimes he ignored him, subverted him, insulted him and shoved him away. But he always needed him, and knew he always would.
Jack slung his weapon over his back and stepped out of the cave, a half-step in front of Daniel. They stood there shoulder to shoulder as the perimeter alarm continued to wail and people holding weapons began to circle them. The colonel raised his eyebrows, glancing around at the hardened expressions, the confused eyes. “Something we can do for you boys?”
An officer stepped out from behind the others and started barking something difficult to hear over the alarm. Jack winced and cupped his ear. “Sorry, can’t understand you—hold on a second, will ya? Let me shut off the alarm.”
He shouldered his way through the surrounding guards, showing no respect for their weapons and attitudes, and they let him reach the tree and reach up to silence the alarm. As soon as it was quiet Daniel was talking, introducing them, revealing their mission of peaceful exploration to all and sundry.
“You see, back in our own galaxy we’re at war with a race called the Goa’uld, a parasitical species who take the bodies and minds of their captives and use them for their own ends. They’re especially fond of using humans, though other races are not immune. Our planet faces annihilation unless we can find a means to defend ourselves, and we . . .”
The grumpy officer gestured sharply, cutting Daniel off. “We’re not interested in you,” he said. “We’re searching for an escaped prisoner. An exceedingly dangerous escaped prisoner. It’s imperative that we find and retrieve him as soon as possible. Have you two encountered anyone else in these woods?”
Daniel and Jack exchanged glances. “No, no one,” Daniel said, his eyes wide and guileless. “I mean, we’re looking for someone to talk to, but we hadn’t found anyone. Until you showed up here, of course. We did watch a complex of buildings for a while, hoping for someone to come out.” He gestured vaguely back where they came from. “But it was locked up pretty tight. Is that where you’re from? It’s a prison?”
The officer nodded impatiently, dark eyes glittering with suspicion. “You’re sure you saw no one? His trail leads directly to this spot.”
Jack blinked at him. “Really? That’s odd.” He cast a disbelieving look on the two canine creatures being restrained in the circle of men surrounding them. Two. That meant the others were probably already circling back around the hill, finding the other cave entrance. “Are you sure your dogs followed the right scent? Your prisoner’s trail probably crossed ours back at the ridge there, and I’m sure we’re more interesting to your animals. Being from another galaxy and all.”
The officer wrinkled his nose. “These are highly trained Special Forces attack canoids. They do not get fooled by cross-trails. Especially not four of them at the same time.”
“Well, maybe your escapee passed by us in the night. We had to sleep sometime.”
Daniel nodded enthusiastically. “Perhaps we can help you look for him, as a token of our good will to your people. Can you describe him?”
The officer scowled fiercely at him, then seemed to relent. “He’s a Jedi—a member of the most dangerous military force in this galaxy, brainwashed from infancy in a religious cult and capable of things you probably believe to be impossible. Telekinesis, mind control, extraordinary feats of physical prowess. In another age his kind would be hunted down and executed for the extreme risk they pose to society, but our government, the Republic, allows them free reign—gives them special status, the creatures of the Senate!”
Okay, well, that had gotten a bit off track. Jack let the man rant. It was giving them a lot more information about these guys and about the galactic politics than they would get by simply asking. Daniel’s eyes were wide, taking it all in—and he also was smart enough not to interrupt.
But the man from the prison seemed shake himself, then, and glared at Daniel as if it was his fault he’d gotten distracted. “This prisoner . . . do not let his mask of innocence fool you. He appears to be a mere boy, approximately fifteen standard years old. He is not tall or large or extraordinary in any way. Some may even call him charming. But he is a Jedi.”
Daniel gave him a slow, serious nod. “I understand. We haven’t seen anyone, certainly not a boy like that.”
Grumpy Officer’s eyes were sharp and narrow. “Then you won’t mind if we have the canoids sniff out your little hideaway, here.”
“No, of course not.”
Jack stepped aside as the two Special Forces moved in. His jaw clenched, but he was careful not let the muscles on his jaw bunch, revealing his agitation. There was no way to know if Carter and Teal’c had gotten out in time.
That is, there was no way for him to know right now. If those dog-things started barking in a moment here, they would all know.
X
Sam pressed her back against the rough cave wall, resting in Teal’c’s large, reassuring shadow. To the left, she could just see a corner of light gleaming beyond the curve of the tunnel, bright and morning-warm. There were voices out there, soft and sparse, and sniffing, jingling noises that sounded an awful lot like tracking dogs. To the right was the dimness of the main chamber emptied of SG-1’s presence, and the safe, familiar voices of Daniel and the colonel snowing the natives.
She glanced up at Teal’c, saw his broad dark head tilted in listening. Obi-Wan’s head was sheltered in the gentle dip between the Jaffa’s chest and shoulder, limp and heavy still in unconsciousness, his long legs draped over Teal’c’s arm and touching hers. As time passed and the man talking to her teammates became more and more vociferous in his hatred of the Jedi, Sam found herself staring at the boy harder and harder. Was that a flicker of movement, his eyelash twitching? Was his breath quickening?
It was too soon for the boy to wake. All of the half-healed wounds she’d just inspected flashed before her mind’s eye, and she knew beyond a doubt that it was too soon. It was bad for Teal’c to be interrupted in the middle of kel’no’reem—he was always unsettled and unbalanced when that happened, often for days, until he managed to regain equilibrium. He would have more trouble healing from incidental injuries like bruises and cuts, and sometimes he was even almost . . . cranky, if such a word could be applied to a man who kept his emotions under incredibly tight mental control.
This healing meditation Obi-Wan used . . . it was not the same as kel’no’reem. This was something deeper, harder, much more mysterious and much, much more powerful. Teal’c relied on the genetic healing factor of a parasite that lived in his belly. Obi-Wan relied on a power he called the Force, something outside himself—and capable of giving him astonishing abilities, if what that man outside said was true. It was akin to the difference between using the power of a campfire to cook a meal and harnessing the power of a star to move a solar system—or create a black hole. Sam was intimately familiar with this kind of difference. It was nothing to be trifled with.
If interrupting Teal’c’s meditation had a bad effect on him, it was a safe bet that interrupting Obi-Wan would do something a lot a worse. Sam wasn’t quite sure how bad it would be, but she was thinking in exponents.
Even as she watched, hoping it wouldn’t happen, Obi-Wan’s eyes slowly slid open, instantly bright and alert in the dimness of the cave. He didn’t move so much as a hair’s-breadth, but Teal’c instantly felt the change and looked down at the young face nestled against him. The boy simply lifted his chin by the barest increment, his expression calm and controlled, telling them without words that they needn’t worry about him.
Sam couldn’t help it, though.
Obi-Wan seemed to know it—he gave her the slightest of smiles, meant to be reassuring and encouraging, then tilted his head slightly as he listened to the muffled conversation taking place outside the cave. She felt Teal’c’s eyes on her and looked up to meet his gaze. No doubt about it—they were both completely out of their depth here.
“Then you won’t mind if we have the canoids sniff out your little hideaway, here.”
Sam stiffened as the sneering words filtered back to them. These canoids obviously had a highly developed sense of smell, considering that they’d been able to track Obi-Wan’s scent even after Teal’c had begun to carry him. Earth bloodhounds would have lost the trail there. Even if the three of them were able to flee the cave now—which they weren’t—these creatures would continue to hunt them down. No escape.
Slowly, Sam felt her finger slip into the trigger guard of her P-90, still cradled in her arm and pointing down. She had not made the decision to move—her body simply reacted to the threat coming toward them. Fighting was impossible, she knew that. It wouldn’t work. But she couldn’t let these monsters recapture Obi-Wan. He had already suffered far too much at their hands, far too much for a young boy, Jedi or not.
And, yeah, SG-1 didn’t know the entire truth of the situation. For all they knew, this angry man’s description of the Jedi could be more accurate than Obi-Wan’s reverent little speech last night. It was always, always, bad, bad trouble for them to get involved with internal politics on another world. Daniel would be the first one to say this, but Sam wouldn’t be far behind him—not anymore, anyway. They’d been burned enough.
But actions spoke louder than words. And these people had been holding Obi-Wan captive, had been torturing and interrogating him, simply because he was a Jedi. The right in this situation was clear to Sam.
She wouldn’t let them take him again.
Without meaning to, though, she let her finger slip out of the trigger guard again. A strange calm settled over her, gentle and easy, not controlling, but smoothing over her agitation like balm over a wound . . . Startled, Sam jerked her head up, staring at Obi-Wan. He gazed back at her serenely, and tilted his head slightly in acknowledgement.
It was him, his calm transferring to her. She’d never felt anything like it. Maybe that man out there had a point. The Jedi were incredibly powerful, and power could be misused.
But Obi-Wan wasn’t forcing her to do anything. He was just . . . reassuring her.
The canoids were snuffling around in the main chamber now; Sam could hear them clearly. She peeked cautiously around the edge of the tunnel, then ducked back, only then processing what she had seen in that guarded flash of vision. The two men had something like flashlights, beams swinging around the cave in an orderly search pattern. One of the canoids was still sniffing the spot where Obi-Wan had lain last night, and the other one was heading straight for them.
Despite Obi-Wan’s calm on her, Sam felt her breath and heart rate quicken. The boy seemed so completely passive—would he let himself be recaptured, merely to spare his new friends? She couldn’t allow it!
A gentle tug on the sleeve of her shoulder arrested her cascading thoughts, and she glanced back to find a slim, pale hand clenched in the fabric there. She followed the arm back to Obi-Wan’s face, and saw the firm, almost stern set of his mouth. No, surrender was not his plan. He would not so quickly discard the gift of their protection.
He released her shoulder, his hand still resting outside the shelter of the blankets wrapped around him, firmly held by Teal’c. His gaze slid past her, to the coming enemy. Sam pressed herself against the wall again as she heard them coming—both of them now, metal jangling, the two handlers’ boots treading loud on the rock.
The Special Forces men came around the bend in the tunnel. Sam waited for the shouts, the howls. She watched the canine noses, waiting for them to snap up, on point. She squinted her eyes half-shut in preparation for the light beams hitting them, zeroing in on their faces.
Nothing happened. The two men and two animals came toward them, searching everywhere. The beams of light swept back and forth. The canoids kept their noses to the ground, moving directly to them. One of them sniffed Teal’c’s boot. Sam’s fists clenched around her gun, but she didn’t move, didn’t breathe.
Then the searchers continued moving down the tunnel. They didn’t even twitch toward them—didn’t register their presence at all. Sam didn’t believe it.
She raised her head to stare at Obi-Wan again, her eyes so wide that they hurt. His hand was stretched out toward the men and canoids, following them, as if connected by an invisible line. His face was set, his concentration intense. Sweat shone on his pale skin, which was rapidly draining of the little color he’d managed to gain in his healing meditation.
Then the searchers passed out of the tunnel into the air outside, met by those already there, and continued moving on. Gradually the sounds of the search moved off, faded. It made no sense.
Obi-Wan slowly lowered his hand, then suddenly gasped as the tension fled from his frame and he fell helplessly back against Teal’c’s chest. “Gone,” he choked out between pants for breath. “They’re . . . gone. They’ll keep going. They believe we are not here.”
“How . . .” Sam stared down the tunnel, then back to the exhausted boy. “What did you do?”
“The weak mind can be influenced,” he said softly. “I have a bit of talent with that particular skill.”
No duh, shnikey. Sam gazed blankly down the cave again. Holy Hannah. Mind control. It was mind control.
“Please don’t be afraid,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice suddenly pleading and very, very young. “Please don’t fear me. We only use this skill when the need is very great, I swear to you. It was how I escaped from my cell back in the prison—otherwise I would still be there, would still . . . Please. Don’t fear me.”
Sam made herself look back at his face. She saw how miserable he was, how drained and empty, how sorrowful that who he was should be a fearful thing to her. Teal’c’s hand rose from where it held the boy’s shoulder and gently cupped his pale, sweaty face, offering his understanding.
She could only offer him a smile, weak and shaky as it was. “You—you saved us,” she stuttered. “You did what you had to do.”
He gave a slow, uncertain nod, and smiled hopefully back at her. “We should wait a bit, but soon it will be safe for us to leave.”
Sam nodded.
Yes. Leaving sounded good.
X
Jack waited with Daniel, listening to the sounds of the search inside. For the sake of the guards surrounding them he affected indifference, slouching against the rocky hillside, hands tucked into his pockets. Daniel kept trying to engage Grumpy Officer in a cultural dialogue, still being his apparently clueless, one-track-mind self. It was a great act—a couple of times it even fooled Jack.
But then he would notice the tension across Daniel’s shoulders, the sharpness of his movements even more pronounced than usual, and would know that he was afraid.
The officer slashed his hand in front of Daniel’s face, cutting off his latest monologue, when the device in his hand buzzed to life. He lifted it to his face and messed with a couple of dials. “Report.”
The voice over the communicator was clear and crisp, and Jack could hear the canoids in the background. “Sir, the cave was empty. The main chamber did have some signs of recent habitation, but everything else looked untouched. However, the canoids are still on the trail. We’re in the woods again, on the opposite side of the ridge.”
“Understood.” The officer looked up at the guards standing around, and made a few short, military gestures with his hand. Three-fourths of them took off, heading over the ridge in loping strides. “Sending Squads 4, 5 and 6 to join you. I have some unfinished business here. Do not break off the search until the prisoner has been found. Regular reports.”
“Command received. Hunt 1 out.”
Grumpy Officer lowered the communicator and stared at Jack and Daniel with narrowed eyes. The squad still here stood with weapons ready, attentive to his every word. “Well, it appears that the prisoner did pass through here in the night. I find it hard to believe that he managed this without waking you, though.”
Jack shrugged. “Hey, you don’t know us very well. We both sleep like the dead.”
He immediately regretted his choice of analogy, though, when the officer’s lip curled in disbelief. “You are a military man, O’Neill, it is quite plain. Military men sleep lightly, especially ones who frequently travel to unknown territories, as you claim you do. And you did not set a watch, in this unknown and possibly hostile territory? Preposterous.”
“We’d already scouted the place out. We knew there was no danger.”
The officer continued to study them. The suspicion in his face did not lighten. Jack’s gut continued to tighten, and it still hadn’t even let up from yesterday.
“You claim to be peaceful explorers, here to meet us, in search of allies and trade. Yes?”
“Yes,” Daniel said eagerly, one foot lifted as if to step forward.
“Well, you’ve found us. I’ll take you to our leaders to begin discussing what you can offer in return for our support.”
A contemptuous smile curled his mouth, and he swept his hand expansively toward the prison in a mockery of invitation. “Please, follow me.”
And they did. They had to.
Part 4
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