Familiar Strangers - Part 5
Nov. 20th, 2006 03:17 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
maychorianWell, here it is. This is all I have for now.
I have to admit that it's a tiny bit discouraging to go from writing SW, where I was getting 30+ reviews for every 2k word chapter, to writing Stargate, where I've been averaging five reviews per 4k word chapter. And this last one only received one so far. I know I need to establish myself as a writer all over again, and some people don't read crossovers, especially if they don't like what's being crossed. I also know that I have to write for my own pleasure and not outside approval. And I do. (Honestly, if I wrote for reviews. I'd probably be writing HP. And I'd be writing crap, the kind that lots of people like.) But still. Discouraged.
Part of that is also having been in a car accident a few days ago and various job- and family-related issues. Plus the holidays--I usually get a little out of sorts around the holidays. But still. Discouraged.
Ah well.
Excerpt:
--
... I sense ill intent toward you both, but especially directed at you, Daniel.”
“No, really?” If sarcasm was a monument, those two words would have been visible from space. “Geez, Daniel, why is it always you?”
--
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5: The Burden of Protection
“Alternatives? Alternatives to fighting . . .” Obi-Wan stared at Teal'c, his chest heaving for air. “They're going to find us. We can’t run far or fast enough. I can't mind-trick them . . . I can't hide us again. I'm too weak, too tired—my connection to the Force is shaky and disturbed. I will try, but I'm afraid I will fail. I'm sorry.”
Sam wanted to tell him that it was okay, but of course it wasn't. It was okay with them. They were soldiers, warriors; they were used to being protectors, fighters, on the front line of the battle, on the front line of the galaxy, standing between their people and any threat that came. They were okay with needing to be the ones who took care of this situation. But it wasn't okay with Obi-Wan.
Because he was a soldier, too, and he was used to being the same thing, for other people.
And he had been fighting for so long, and so hard, against such overwhelming opposition, that he couldn’t remember how to stop. She understood this suddenly, in a flash of insight that made her wonder if this was how Daniel felt all the time—insight was default for him. Those monsters at the prison with their torture and their questions hadn’t only been attacking Obi-Wan.
If it had only been about him, he would have given in long ago. But he had kept his mouth shut, waited for an opportunity, and then given everything he had in a desperate effort to escape, because his silence wasn’t for himself. He was protecting the Jedi, the Republic, and the galaxy.
And though he trusted Sam and Teal’c with his life, he could not trust them with his mission. It was his burden, and he would carry it until he fell. He was strong, but he had been carrying it alone for a long time, and he knew that he couldn’t do it much longer. This alone caused his despair.
But Teal’c only shook his head. “That is not what I was referring to.”
Sam had never seen her Jaffa teammate reveal such a depth of understanding before, his eyes so warm and generous. He already knew everything she had just realized about Obi-Wan—he’d probably known it from the beginning.
“We need to contact your Master,” Teal’c continued, straightforward and completely certain. “You need a particular component to accomplish this. I will obtain one for you.”
Well, it sure sounded logical when you laid it out like that.
Obi-Wan did not protest. He seemed momentarily incapable of anything but gaping. So he did.
“What does this power supply look like?” Teal’c asked.
The boy’s mouth closed, then opened, then closed again. His hands rose in the air and sketched a vague rectangular shape, then dropped to rest limply in lap. His chest heaved in a bewildered sigh.
Teal’c nodded seriously, as if he had just been a given a detailed description, clear and articulate. “I will return soon.”
And he was gone.
Obi-Wan looked at Sam, and for once looked like what he was—a young boy caught up in circumstances beyond his control. She would have laughed, if it hadn’t been too true to be funny. Instead she smiled.
“Don’t worry, Obi-Wan. Teal’c knows what he’s doing. He’s actually over a hundred years old, you know, and he’s spent most of that time fighting one enemy or another.”
Obi-Wan did not seem surprised by the age, but he did tilt his head in curiosity. “Yes, he let me touch his mind last night, and I felt the depth of his experience. I have rarely encountered such. But in the past . . . he fought on the side of your enemy, didn’t he?”
Sam nodded. “He is shol’va to them now—traitor, outcast. The Goa’uld enslaved his race, making themselves gods over them, and he fights for freedom. Even when he fights alone, when his own people don’t believe him.”
“He is an extraordinary man.”
“Yes, he is.”
Obi-Wan drew his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around them, gazing with unfocused eyes down the slope in the direction Teal’c had gone. His pale, bruised face was thoughtful and intent. “He’s heading toward the patrol,” he murmured.
“Obi-Wan . . .” Sam scooted a little closer, hesitantly reaching out.
“I don’t . . . I can’t sense his plan, I . . .”
“Obi-Wan.” Sam laid a hand on his arm and very carefully wiggled it.
“I . . .” He blinked, and looked at her, his face strained. Too near to breaking.
“Obi-Wan, you’re exhausting yourself even more. Let go, all right? Teal’c is fine. Nothing bad will happen to him if you let down your guard for a few minutes. I promise.”
“But he might . . .”
“They won’t catch him. They won’t even see him.”
“They might.” Oh, he was so breathless. So weary, so determined, so defiant and scared.
“They won’t.”
Come on, honey, understand what I’m saying here. You don’t have to take care of us. We’re new to this galaxy, yeah, but we’re not new to this.
She felt her lips quirk in a little smile, though she knew her eyes were worried. “We’ve been in a lot worse situations than this, Obi-Wan, and we’re still here. It’s all right. I promise. You don’t have to try to work your magic from a mile away, or whatever it is you’re trying to do.”
“Just . . . just let me watch then. I need to know.”
Well, it wasn’t like she could stop him. Sam tried to swallow the lump in her throat, failed, then just scooted a little closer and wrapped an arm around his rigid shoulders. “Okay. We’ll wait together.”
Couldn’t do anything else, anyway.
They watched. Rather, Obi-Wan watched Teal’c, presumably by use of some sort of extra-sensory perception, and Sam watched Obi-Wan, occasionally sparing a glance for the surrounding area. The forest sunlight drifted over them in dabs and speckles, unseen creatures scurried and sang, and the leaves above shifted in an alien breeze.
And Sam didn’t think about the strangeness of this, of sitting under a tree in another galaxy trying to support a vulnerable teenage warrior, waiting for her alien comrade to return with a means to save them all. This was a relatively normal moment for her, all things considered. The only strangeness was that she was able to find a quiet within her, to sit here and wait in utter trust, knowing that Teal’c would return soon. Usually, it was impossible for her to find this stillness, her mind always spinning, spinning, playing scenarios and concocting solutions to problems that didn’t yet exist. This time it wasn’t Obi-Wan transferring his calm to her, either. This was her trying to return the favor.
X
Why did every culture that had progressed beyond the living-in-tents stage (and some that hadn’t) have politicians? Jack hated them, loathed them with every molecule of his crotchety old-man heart. Leaders were cool. Tonane: awesome. Hedrazar: equally wonderful. Every-politician-they-had-ever-met-ever: horrible. When he’d first started exploring through the Stargate, he’d been marginally hopeful that Earth politics was the exception, and other people got along just fine without them. But he hadn’t been particularly surprised to discover that Kinsey had littermates all over the galaxy, apparently all having been given birth by the same dirty, unkillable cockroach. And he was sure there would be even worse experiences in the future.
But this guy, right now? Definitely at the top of the hate list.
“So, you’re from another galaxy,” the mayor or governor or chieftain or whatever said with a smarmy little politician smile. “And you came here through a . . . big stone ring.”
“That’s right.” Daniel nodded. “We call it the Stargate. You don’t have any legends or traditions about something like that? Stories about even, oh, monsters coming through it? Or gods?”
“It sounds fascinating. Well, I’m sorry to cut this meeting short, but I have some urgent matters to discuss with my council. Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” Jack said with a smarmy smile of his own. “We understand that you must be very busy.”
“I have a few other guests waiting as well. Perhaps you’d like to join them? I’ll have you escorted to the reception lounge.”
The Tau’ri smiled and nodded, utterly polite and utterly insincere. A bored-looking functionary led them out of the lavish office and down another elegantly-appointed hall. Jack resisted the urge to smash a decorative vase, just to see what would happen.
They had met a lot of different reactions in their travels—curiosity, hostility, awe, defiance, hope. But never such condescending indifference. This politician obviously had no interest in anything that didn’t serve his immediate purposes. Someone once said “The opposite of love is apathy,” Jack remembered, and he knew it was true. But how could anyone listen to one of Daniel’s eager, impassioned speeches, such as he had just given in that stupid office, and not react with something? Even if it was bewilderment, disgust, or downright dislike?
Maybe it was an election year.
There were a couple of other people in the reception lounge, waiting for an audience with the big cheese. The man looked pretty normal, except that his skin was pale green, and his hair was butter-yellow and didn’t appear to have been dyed. The other one was a kid, maybe nine or ten years old by Earth standards, and he had a tail. Both were wearing clothes an awful lot like Obi-Wan’s.
“Greetings, visitors,” the man said, not waiting for the functionary to make introductions. He stood in order to give them a deep, respectful bow. “I am Jedi Master Nik’lai Hayde, of Coruscant. This is my Padawan, Lindle Motanu. It is a great pleasure to meet representatives from so far away.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Daniel said, his eyes wider than a six-year-old’s on Christmas morning.
Jack greeted that sparkly-eyed wonder with the affectionate welcome he would give an old friend long missing and thought to be lost forever. But only in his head. “I’m Colonel Jack O’Neill, and this is Dr. Daniel Jackson.”
“Ah.” The Jedi nodded gravely. “You are a healer, Master Jackson?”
“Uh, no, sorry. A seeker of knowledge, only. A student of the past, a learner of stories. And please, call me Daniel.”
“Even better.” A pleased grin spread across his face, and the little Padawan—who had been visibly struggling to keep his attention on the boring adults—perked up immediately. “I myself am a great collector of stories.”
“But that’s not what we’re here for right now,” Jack said hastily, eager to interrupt what would surely be a very interesting, very fruitful, and very long exchange of cultural heritage.
Hayde tilted his head slightly to one side. He seemed to have a few extra joints in his neck, because the gesture looked more avian than humanoid. “Yes. I understand.”
The Jedi waited for the functionary to leave and close the door behind him, then nodded to the boy at his side. “If you please, Lindle.”
The Padawan flicked his blue eyelashes and grinned, then began darting hither and yon throughout the room, sometimes pausing for a moment as if to listen for something, then moving on. In moments, his long, nimble fingers had collected several small devices, and one large one. He even leaped to get one from the drapes, and his short little hop carried him much higher than a similar action from a human would have managed.
When he finished, he held the devices in his hands and stared at them intently for a few seconds. Any little indicator lights that were visible immediately winked out. Then the youngster turned and placed his fistful of electronics in his Master’s hand with the air of a child who had just finished a scavenger hunt and completely blown away the competition.
“Here they are, Master Nik’lai.”
“Are you certain that this is all, Padawan?”
“Yes, Master.”
Hayde nodded, satisfied with this simple answer, and ruffled his apprentice’s feathery blue-black hair. “Well done.” He looked at Jack and Daniel, his face serious again. “We can speak freely now. Would you like to sit down?”
Jack had to admit that he was quite willing to do so.
“We have urgent matters to discuss,” the Jedi said, taking a seat himself, though he seemed unable to relax.
“Yes!” Daniel said. “We . . .”
“You may be in danger here,” Hayde continued.
“Well, y—huh?” Jack sat up a little straighter. “Are you talking about Commander Grumpybutt, or the politico who was totally ignoring us?”
A yellow eyebrow twisted quizzically, but this guy caught on fast. “Both, I believe. I sense ill intent toward you both, but especially directed at you, Daniel.”
“No, really?” If sarcasm was a monument, those two words would have been visible from space. “Geez, Daniel, why is it always you?”
“Because I have ineffable allure?”
“I think it’s because you’re always sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, and people want to bite it off.”
Nik’lai Hayde shook his head. “I don’t believe it is Daniel’s fault at all, Master O’Neill.”
“No.” Jack sighed. “It usually isn’t.”
The Jedi seemed confused again by the self-contradiction. He obviously didn’t know what to make of these two Earthlings. But then, Jack usually didn’t know what to make of them, either.
“I don’t think you fully understand the situation,” he said instead. “Several weeks ago, the Jedi Council sent a team here to Nalucia to investigate rumors of civil unrest. This team consisted of Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of our most skilled and successful teams currently in the field. They’re especially suited to matters of negotiation and peacekeeping, and the Council believed they could handle the situation on their own.
“Unfortunately, this proved not to be true. At first they could find no cause for the rumors, save for a vague uneasiness among certain leaders. These seemed to have some hostility toward the Republic itself, but Master Jinn could not ascertain the reason. Then Padawan Kenobi vanished, obviously abducted.”
“Obviously,” Daniel echoed, and opened his mouth to speak on.
But Hayde seemed to think now that the best way to avoid being confused by them was just to keep talking. “The Council sent me to help Master Jinn search for his apprentice. I’m especially skilled at sensing motives and discovering past events. My Padawan is a bit young for such a dangerous mission, but I have not let him out of my sight since we arrived.”
He gave Lindle a fond smile, and the little apprentice, lounging bonelessly over the back of a piece of furniture and ignoring the conversation, returned a luminous grin.
“I will suffer no one to harm him,” Hayde said gravely, looking at the men again. “Lindle is precious to me. As indeed, all Masters feel protective of their Padawans. I have seen Qui-Gon’s anguish for Obi-Wan, as well as he hides it. It is a terrible thing, to fail in this duty of protection.”
“We’ll find him, Master,” Lindle said confidently. “Just like last time.”
Daniel opened his mouth again, but this time Jack cut him off. “Why do you think that we are in danger? We’re not even from around these parts.”
“It is a puzzle to me, as well. But while you were in the office, talking, I could feel the malice in this place begin to focus on you, and now it is almost hard enough to cut. In fact, I believe that these politicians had something to do with Obi-Wan’s abduction, though they claim that it was a splinter group hostile to all forms of government, including their own. Qui-Gon is currently using our starfighter to scan the area for hidden signals and buildings. These people are hiding something—probably many somethings.”
“Is he maybe doing that in the forest a few hours’ drive to the west?” Jack asked. “’Cause if he is, he’s a lot closer to your missing kid than you think.”
Hayde quirked his eyebrow again. “But how do you . . .?”
“We saw him!” Daniel finally burst out, succeeding in releasing the words that had been bouncing in his mouth like excited children. “We know where Obi-Wan is!”
The Jedi Master’s eyes widened, and the little Padawan popped up in attention.
“Well, we know where he was a few hours ago,” Jack amended.
After that, he just gave up and let Daniel talk.
X
“Sam, I’m . . .”
Sam’s heart lurched in her chest. Even last night when he first woke in the cave, disoriented and in pain, surrounded by strangers—even then, Obi-Wan’s voice had not been so faint. So close to fading altogether.
“What?” She leaned closer, watching only him, now. “Obi-Wan? You’re what?”
She made a conscious decision not to shake him again.
“I’m . . . I’m slipping.”
“No, don’t!” She wrapped her arm more tightly around him, no longer careful of the wounds she knew marred his back. “Obi-Wan! Don’t do that.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered shut, then opened again on the trail of a sigh. “I can’t watch any more,” he murmured. “Even that is out of my reach now.”
“Oh.” Sam sat back a little, blinking. “Well, that’s okay. Don’t scare me like that. We’ll be fine.”
He straightened his back, firming his resolve once more. “Yes. We’ll be fine.”
They both sounded so confident that if he didn’t believe her, she surely ought to be able to believe him.
Fortunately, neither of them had to believe for much longer. Only a few minutes later, both were able to see Teal’c climbing back toward them, cradling something in his hand. He looked pretty smug, for a Jaffa.
“Is this the device you require, Obi-Wan Kenobi?”
He revealed the object in his hand with what would have been a flourish, if this hadn’t been Teal’c, who never, ever flourished. Ever.
Obi-Wan blinked at the object. “That’s not a power module,” he said neutrally. “That’s a communicator.”
“Will it serve the purpose?”
“Yes. It will serve admirably.”
Obi-Wan accepted the communicator from the Jaffa’s broad palm and considered it for a few moments, then started fiddling with dials, switches and buttons. He explained himself for their benefit. “They’re probably monitoring all communications channels. A direct broadcast to my Master’s personal comm would give us away, but the Jedi have an emergency frequency, low-grade and seldom used on most civilized planets. I’m setting the communicator for short, timed bursts along that frequency. They won’t notice it, hopefully, but my Master will. If he’s watching, waiting for me to signal him. As I know he is, even though it’s been . . .”
He paused and looked away, over the trees. “It’s been a long time,” he finished at last. “I lost track of the days.”
Obi-Wan flipped one last switch. “There. It will serve as a homing beacon.” He propped the communicator against the tree trunk, then gazed back over the trees. “All we can do now is wait.”
Teal’c nodded, visibly digging his heels into the ground. “And while we wait, we will fight.”
Sam surged to her feet, following his gaze into the trees. Obi-Wan seemed too weary to make the connection quickly, though, staring up at them without comprehension. “No alternative?” he asked. His voice did not waver, but Sam thought it probably should have.
“Several patrols are approaching our position from various directions,” Teal’c confirmed. “There is, indeed, no alternative.”
“Canoids?” Sam asked.
“All four.”
Obi-Wan finally got it. He shoved himself to his feet, hands grasping urgently at their sleeves. “Go! They are not following your scent, only mine. Lose yourselves in the forest and rejoin your teammates. By now they may need rescuing, too. Don’t sacrifice them for me.”
Sam was not swayed by this subtly manipulative appeal, either. “We already told you that we’re not going to leave you, Obi-Wan. You might as well get used to it.”
She would never abandon a friend to the enemy again. Obi-Wan was theirs now, theirs to protect, and SG-1 left no one behind.
He pulled at their jackets in frustration. “I am a Jedi! You have no need to take my part in this—you never did! You are strangers here. You don’t understand what they will do to you. Go! I’ll watch your backs!”
The kid was starting to sound seriously panicked now. And the hell of it was that he wasn’t scared for himself, but for them. Sam rolled her eyes, then turned abruptly in his grasp and grabbed his elbows, forcing him to look at her.
“Obi-Wan, when this is all over, remind us to tell you about the times we’ve been captured by our enemies. We’ve all been caught and imprisoned and tortured, Obi-Wan. Heck, we’ve all died at least once. These guys are pretty bad, but I’ll bet they don’t have much on the Goa’uld. We understand what they will do to us. To you. That’s why we can’t allow it.”
“But how can you prevent . . .?”
“Bit of a pessimist, aren’t you, kid?”
Sam bit her tongue, then. She’d been accused of that herself a time or two. It wasn’t going to do anything to reassure the poor boy.
Teal’c nudged her shoulder, and she stepped aside, letting him take over. He bent his head to look Obi-Wan in the eyes. Sam waited for some warrior-brotherly wisdom, or a brilliant Jaffa battle plan.
Teal’c said nothing. He just looked at the young Jedi steadily, offering . . . offering a bunch of things, probably. Something passed between them, and Obi-Wan nodded.
“I accept the gift of your assistance, and humbly thank you,” he said formally, calmly.
Holy Hannah, how did these alien-warrior types manage to switch their moods like that? Teal’c could do it, too, all cold burning rage one moment and stoic concrete wall the next. Sam rarely managed even the appearance of calm in stressful situations, let alone the reality of it.
Then the three of them turned to face the coming storm. They had the high ground. Even if that was all they had, they definitely had the high ground.
It happened as they had all known it would. The first patrol that spotted them held back for a moment, urgent comm messages were exchanged, and the rest arrived. On all sides. And then advanced.
Sam held her P-90 steady, and felt Teal’c’s tension at her side. She tried to stare down every blank soldier’s gaze at once, tried to ignore every pointed weapon. Her wonderful gun, usually so comforting in her hand, so solid and real, felt about as useful as a twig. But she wasn’t backing down.
Obi-Wan pushed out from between them, facing the enemy. His hands were raised, not in surrender but in warning. “Soldiers of Nalucia! Do you truly wish to take on the full power of a Jedi? You know that with my freedom and a day of rest, I am now a match for all of you.”
Incredibly, some of the soldiers visibly shrank back, reconsidering. But most stood firm, and one of the commander-types cocked his weapon.
“Don’t think you can fool us with your Jedi sorcery, warlock! We know your tricks, and we reject your so-called power! You have no influence over us!”
The others shook off their hesitance, then, and more weapons were raised to shoulders, trained on Obi-Wan. The boy stood steady, but sweat shone on his face again, beginning to run into his collar. He was draining himself again trying to save them, damn it. But it might be the only chance they had, if he could succeed . . . even partially . . .
Obi-Wan pushed a little harder. “Do you truly wish to test me? Many of you saw me escape the prison last night. I did so easily, even while weary and wounded. Since then I have healed, and I am in my strength again. You doubt my word? Try me!”
Sam felt his arm tremble against hers and moved closer, inviting him to lean on her. He did, just a little, just enough so that they couldn’t see him shake, couldn’t see his knees beginning to buckle. C’mon, c’mon, just a little longer, believe him, you bastards . . .
She knew that they were waiting for rescue that had very little chance of reaching them in time, if it came at all. But after so many close calls and scrapes already in their fight to save the people they protected, after so many miracles pulled from the air and solutions arriving at the very last moment, she couldn’t help believing that it was possible.
Perhaps she wasn’t such an incurable pessimist, after all.
C’mon, Qui-Gon. Make it! Prove yourself worthy of his faith in you! Come! Drop out of the sky! Now!
Come now, damn you!
And slap a pair of wings on her and call her a pixie if the mental summons didn’t actually seem to work. A roar echoed out of the sky above, and some kind of aircraft hovered there, then began to descend, crashing through the branches into a slightly-cleared area, making the armed guards scatter. The moment the ship touched down, the cockpit began to open, and a really tall, really strong-looking man in Jedi clothes stood up and stared stonily at the forces surrounding them.
Obi-Wan gasped and sagged between Sam and Teal’c, finally running out, letting go. “Master,” he murmured, and it was a wonder Sam even heard him over the sound of the ship.
Qui-Gon Jinn leaped down from his ship, and in a few strides he was standing in front of them, shielding Obi-Wan from enemy eyes and staring every last one of them down. He held some kind of metal cylinder in his hand as if it was a weapon, though Sam didn’t see how it could be. Unless it was a grenade. But wouldn’t that be counter-productive?
“I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, representative of the Jedi Council.” His voice had no difficulty reaching every ear. “Effective immediately, I’m taking these three into my protection. To reach them, you’ll have to come through me.”
There was a strange snap-hiss sound, and suddenly he held a beam of bright green light in his hand, extending from the metal cylinder. He held it like a sword, in a guard position across his body. Huh. If it was really made of light, it could probably deflect energy blasts. So he wasn’t bluffing here.
The soldiers seemed to know it. They backed up. A couple spoke urgently into their communicators. If they all fired at once they could probably cause problems for this big guy—Was he actually taller than Teal’c? Sam’s mind babbled incoherently.—but they seemed unwilling to take the risk of attacking a full-grown Jedi. Cowards. Pick on the kid, huh? Bet Qui-Gon wasn’t too pleased with that plan.
Their enemies seemed to all be coming to the same conclusion simultaneously. Almost as one, they turned and faded into the trees without a shot fired.
Obi-Wan started to fall, his strength finally giving way completely. Sam reached out to catch him, but Qui-Gon was faster.
He pulled the sinking Padawan into his arms, against his chest, the rich brown folds of his robe lapping around them. “I’m here, Obi-Wan,” he murmured in a voice not meant for their ears. “I’m here. You don’t have to be strong anymore. I’ll do it for you.”
Then, finally, Obi-Wan was able to release his burden. Only this one, only his Master, could ever relieve him of it.
Sam was just glad the man had finally shown up. Took him long enough.
But all was answered now.
I have to admit that it's a tiny bit discouraging to go from writing SW, where I was getting 30+ reviews for every 2k word chapter, to writing Stargate, where I've been averaging five reviews per 4k word chapter. And this last one only received one so far. I know I need to establish myself as a writer all over again, and some people don't read crossovers, especially if they don't like what's being crossed. I also know that I have to write for my own pleasure and not outside approval. And I do. (Honestly, if I wrote for reviews. I'd probably be writing HP. And I'd be writing crap, the kind that lots of people like.) But still. Discouraged.
Part of that is also having been in a car accident a few days ago and various job- and family-related issues. Plus the holidays--I usually get a little out of sorts around the holidays. But still. Discouraged.
Ah well.
Excerpt:
--
... I sense ill intent toward you both, but especially directed at you, Daniel.”
“No, really?” If sarcasm was a monument, those two words would have been visible from space. “Geez, Daniel, why is it always you?”
--
Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5: The Burden of Protection
“Alternatives? Alternatives to fighting . . .” Obi-Wan stared at Teal'c, his chest heaving for air. “They're going to find us. We can’t run far or fast enough. I can't mind-trick them . . . I can't hide us again. I'm too weak, too tired—my connection to the Force is shaky and disturbed. I will try, but I'm afraid I will fail. I'm sorry.”
Sam wanted to tell him that it was okay, but of course it wasn't. It was okay with them. They were soldiers, warriors; they were used to being protectors, fighters, on the front line of the battle, on the front line of the galaxy, standing between their people and any threat that came. They were okay with needing to be the ones who took care of this situation. But it wasn't okay with Obi-Wan.
Because he was a soldier, too, and he was used to being the same thing, for other people.
And he had been fighting for so long, and so hard, against such overwhelming opposition, that he couldn’t remember how to stop. She understood this suddenly, in a flash of insight that made her wonder if this was how Daniel felt all the time—insight was default for him. Those monsters at the prison with their torture and their questions hadn’t only been attacking Obi-Wan.
If it had only been about him, he would have given in long ago. But he had kept his mouth shut, waited for an opportunity, and then given everything he had in a desperate effort to escape, because his silence wasn’t for himself. He was protecting the Jedi, the Republic, and the galaxy.
And though he trusted Sam and Teal’c with his life, he could not trust them with his mission. It was his burden, and he would carry it until he fell. He was strong, but he had been carrying it alone for a long time, and he knew that he couldn’t do it much longer. This alone caused his despair.
But Teal’c only shook his head. “That is not what I was referring to.”
Sam had never seen her Jaffa teammate reveal such a depth of understanding before, his eyes so warm and generous. He already knew everything she had just realized about Obi-Wan—he’d probably known it from the beginning.
“We need to contact your Master,” Teal’c continued, straightforward and completely certain. “You need a particular component to accomplish this. I will obtain one for you.”
Well, it sure sounded logical when you laid it out like that.
Obi-Wan did not protest. He seemed momentarily incapable of anything but gaping. So he did.
“What does this power supply look like?” Teal’c asked.
The boy’s mouth closed, then opened, then closed again. His hands rose in the air and sketched a vague rectangular shape, then dropped to rest limply in lap. His chest heaved in a bewildered sigh.
Teal’c nodded seriously, as if he had just been a given a detailed description, clear and articulate. “I will return soon.”
And he was gone.
Obi-Wan looked at Sam, and for once looked like what he was—a young boy caught up in circumstances beyond his control. She would have laughed, if it hadn’t been too true to be funny. Instead she smiled.
“Don’t worry, Obi-Wan. Teal’c knows what he’s doing. He’s actually over a hundred years old, you know, and he’s spent most of that time fighting one enemy or another.”
Obi-Wan did not seem surprised by the age, but he did tilt his head in curiosity. “Yes, he let me touch his mind last night, and I felt the depth of his experience. I have rarely encountered such. But in the past . . . he fought on the side of your enemy, didn’t he?”
Sam nodded. “He is shol’va to them now—traitor, outcast. The Goa’uld enslaved his race, making themselves gods over them, and he fights for freedom. Even when he fights alone, when his own people don’t believe him.”
“He is an extraordinary man.”
“Yes, he is.”
Obi-Wan drew his knees up to his chin and wrapped his arms around them, gazing with unfocused eyes down the slope in the direction Teal’c had gone. His pale, bruised face was thoughtful and intent. “He’s heading toward the patrol,” he murmured.
“Obi-Wan . . .” Sam scooted a little closer, hesitantly reaching out.
“I don’t . . . I can’t sense his plan, I . . .”
“Obi-Wan.” Sam laid a hand on his arm and very carefully wiggled it.
“I . . .” He blinked, and looked at her, his face strained. Too near to breaking.
“Obi-Wan, you’re exhausting yourself even more. Let go, all right? Teal’c is fine. Nothing bad will happen to him if you let down your guard for a few minutes. I promise.”
“But he might . . .”
“They won’t catch him. They won’t even see him.”
“They might.” Oh, he was so breathless. So weary, so determined, so defiant and scared.
“They won’t.”
Come on, honey, understand what I’m saying here. You don’t have to take care of us. We’re new to this galaxy, yeah, but we’re not new to this.
She felt her lips quirk in a little smile, though she knew her eyes were worried. “We’ve been in a lot worse situations than this, Obi-Wan, and we’re still here. It’s all right. I promise. You don’t have to try to work your magic from a mile away, or whatever it is you’re trying to do.”
“Just . . . just let me watch then. I need to know.”
Well, it wasn’t like she could stop him. Sam tried to swallow the lump in her throat, failed, then just scooted a little closer and wrapped an arm around his rigid shoulders. “Okay. We’ll wait together.”
Couldn’t do anything else, anyway.
They watched. Rather, Obi-Wan watched Teal’c, presumably by use of some sort of extra-sensory perception, and Sam watched Obi-Wan, occasionally sparing a glance for the surrounding area. The forest sunlight drifted over them in dabs and speckles, unseen creatures scurried and sang, and the leaves above shifted in an alien breeze.
And Sam didn’t think about the strangeness of this, of sitting under a tree in another galaxy trying to support a vulnerable teenage warrior, waiting for her alien comrade to return with a means to save them all. This was a relatively normal moment for her, all things considered. The only strangeness was that she was able to find a quiet within her, to sit here and wait in utter trust, knowing that Teal’c would return soon. Usually, it was impossible for her to find this stillness, her mind always spinning, spinning, playing scenarios and concocting solutions to problems that didn’t yet exist. This time it wasn’t Obi-Wan transferring his calm to her, either. This was her trying to return the favor.
X
Why did every culture that had progressed beyond the living-in-tents stage (and some that hadn’t) have politicians? Jack hated them, loathed them with every molecule of his crotchety old-man heart. Leaders were cool. Tonane: awesome. Hedrazar: equally wonderful. Every-politician-they-had-ever-met-ever: horrible. When he’d first started exploring through the Stargate, he’d been marginally hopeful that Earth politics was the exception, and other people got along just fine without them. But he hadn’t been particularly surprised to discover that Kinsey had littermates all over the galaxy, apparently all having been given birth by the same dirty, unkillable cockroach. And he was sure there would be even worse experiences in the future.
But this guy, right now? Definitely at the top of the hate list.
“So, you’re from another galaxy,” the mayor or governor or chieftain or whatever said with a smarmy little politician smile. “And you came here through a . . . big stone ring.”
“That’s right.” Daniel nodded. “We call it the Stargate. You don’t have any legends or traditions about something like that? Stories about even, oh, monsters coming through it? Or gods?”
“It sounds fascinating. Well, I’m sorry to cut this meeting short, but I have some urgent matters to discuss with my council. Do you mind?”
“Of course not,” Jack said with a smarmy smile of his own. “We understand that you must be very busy.”
“I have a few other guests waiting as well. Perhaps you’d like to join them? I’ll have you escorted to the reception lounge.”
The Tau’ri smiled and nodded, utterly polite and utterly insincere. A bored-looking functionary led them out of the lavish office and down another elegantly-appointed hall. Jack resisted the urge to smash a decorative vase, just to see what would happen.
They had met a lot of different reactions in their travels—curiosity, hostility, awe, defiance, hope. But never such condescending indifference. This politician obviously had no interest in anything that didn’t serve his immediate purposes. Someone once said “The opposite of love is apathy,” Jack remembered, and he knew it was true. But how could anyone listen to one of Daniel’s eager, impassioned speeches, such as he had just given in that stupid office, and not react with something? Even if it was bewilderment, disgust, or downright dislike?
Maybe it was an election year.
There were a couple of other people in the reception lounge, waiting for an audience with the big cheese. The man looked pretty normal, except that his skin was pale green, and his hair was butter-yellow and didn’t appear to have been dyed. The other one was a kid, maybe nine or ten years old by Earth standards, and he had a tail. Both were wearing clothes an awful lot like Obi-Wan’s.
“Greetings, visitors,” the man said, not waiting for the functionary to make introductions. He stood in order to give them a deep, respectful bow. “I am Jedi Master Nik’lai Hayde, of Coruscant. This is my Padawan, Lindle Motanu. It is a great pleasure to meet representatives from so far away.”
“Pleased to meet you,” Daniel said, his eyes wider than a six-year-old’s on Christmas morning.
Jack greeted that sparkly-eyed wonder with the affectionate welcome he would give an old friend long missing and thought to be lost forever. But only in his head. “I’m Colonel Jack O’Neill, and this is Dr. Daniel Jackson.”
“Ah.” The Jedi nodded gravely. “You are a healer, Master Jackson?”
“Uh, no, sorry. A seeker of knowledge, only. A student of the past, a learner of stories. And please, call me Daniel.”
“Even better.” A pleased grin spread across his face, and the little Padawan—who had been visibly struggling to keep his attention on the boring adults—perked up immediately. “I myself am a great collector of stories.”
“But that’s not what we’re here for right now,” Jack said hastily, eager to interrupt what would surely be a very interesting, very fruitful, and very long exchange of cultural heritage.
Hayde tilted his head slightly to one side. He seemed to have a few extra joints in his neck, because the gesture looked more avian than humanoid. “Yes. I understand.”
The Jedi waited for the functionary to leave and close the door behind him, then nodded to the boy at his side. “If you please, Lindle.”
The Padawan flicked his blue eyelashes and grinned, then began darting hither and yon throughout the room, sometimes pausing for a moment as if to listen for something, then moving on. In moments, his long, nimble fingers had collected several small devices, and one large one. He even leaped to get one from the drapes, and his short little hop carried him much higher than a similar action from a human would have managed.
When he finished, he held the devices in his hands and stared at them intently for a few seconds. Any little indicator lights that were visible immediately winked out. Then the youngster turned and placed his fistful of electronics in his Master’s hand with the air of a child who had just finished a scavenger hunt and completely blown away the competition.
“Here they are, Master Nik’lai.”
“Are you certain that this is all, Padawan?”
“Yes, Master.”
Hayde nodded, satisfied with this simple answer, and ruffled his apprentice’s feathery blue-black hair. “Well done.” He looked at Jack and Daniel, his face serious again. “We can speak freely now. Would you like to sit down?”
Jack had to admit that he was quite willing to do so.
“We have urgent matters to discuss,” the Jedi said, taking a seat himself, though he seemed unable to relax.
“Yes!” Daniel said. “We . . .”
“You may be in danger here,” Hayde continued.
“Well, y—huh?” Jack sat up a little straighter. “Are you talking about Commander Grumpybutt, or the politico who was totally ignoring us?”
A yellow eyebrow twisted quizzically, but this guy caught on fast. “Both, I believe. I sense ill intent toward you both, but especially directed at you, Daniel.”
“No, really?” If sarcasm was a monument, those two words would have been visible from space. “Geez, Daniel, why is it always you?”
“Because I have ineffable allure?”
“I think it’s because you’re always sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong, and people want to bite it off.”
Nik’lai Hayde shook his head. “I don’t believe it is Daniel’s fault at all, Master O’Neill.”
“No.” Jack sighed. “It usually isn’t.”
The Jedi seemed confused again by the self-contradiction. He obviously didn’t know what to make of these two Earthlings. But then, Jack usually didn’t know what to make of them, either.
“I don’t think you fully understand the situation,” he said instead. “Several weeks ago, the Jedi Council sent a team here to Nalucia to investigate rumors of civil unrest. This team consisted of Master Qui-Gon Jinn and his Padawan, Obi-Wan Kenobi, one of our most skilled and successful teams currently in the field. They’re especially suited to matters of negotiation and peacekeeping, and the Council believed they could handle the situation on their own.
“Unfortunately, this proved not to be true. At first they could find no cause for the rumors, save for a vague uneasiness among certain leaders. These seemed to have some hostility toward the Republic itself, but Master Jinn could not ascertain the reason. Then Padawan Kenobi vanished, obviously abducted.”
“Obviously,” Daniel echoed, and opened his mouth to speak on.
But Hayde seemed to think now that the best way to avoid being confused by them was just to keep talking. “The Council sent me to help Master Jinn search for his apprentice. I’m especially skilled at sensing motives and discovering past events. My Padawan is a bit young for such a dangerous mission, but I have not let him out of my sight since we arrived.”
He gave Lindle a fond smile, and the little apprentice, lounging bonelessly over the back of a piece of furniture and ignoring the conversation, returned a luminous grin.
“I will suffer no one to harm him,” Hayde said gravely, looking at the men again. “Lindle is precious to me. As indeed, all Masters feel protective of their Padawans. I have seen Qui-Gon’s anguish for Obi-Wan, as well as he hides it. It is a terrible thing, to fail in this duty of protection.”
“We’ll find him, Master,” Lindle said confidently. “Just like last time.”
Daniel opened his mouth again, but this time Jack cut him off. “Why do you think that we are in danger? We’re not even from around these parts.”
“It is a puzzle to me, as well. But while you were in the office, talking, I could feel the malice in this place begin to focus on you, and now it is almost hard enough to cut. In fact, I believe that these politicians had something to do with Obi-Wan’s abduction, though they claim that it was a splinter group hostile to all forms of government, including their own. Qui-Gon is currently using our starfighter to scan the area for hidden signals and buildings. These people are hiding something—probably many somethings.”
“Is he maybe doing that in the forest a few hours’ drive to the west?” Jack asked. “’Cause if he is, he’s a lot closer to your missing kid than you think.”
Hayde quirked his eyebrow again. “But how do you . . .?”
“We saw him!” Daniel finally burst out, succeeding in releasing the words that had been bouncing in his mouth like excited children. “We know where Obi-Wan is!”
The Jedi Master’s eyes widened, and the little Padawan popped up in attention.
“Well, we know where he was a few hours ago,” Jack amended.
After that, he just gave up and let Daniel talk.
X
“Sam, I’m . . .”
Sam’s heart lurched in her chest. Even last night when he first woke in the cave, disoriented and in pain, surrounded by strangers—even then, Obi-Wan’s voice had not been so faint. So close to fading altogether.
“What?” She leaned closer, watching only him, now. “Obi-Wan? You’re what?”
She made a conscious decision not to shake him again.
“I’m . . . I’m slipping.”
“No, don’t!” She wrapped her arm more tightly around him, no longer careful of the wounds she knew marred his back. “Obi-Wan! Don’t do that.”
Obi-Wan’s eyes fluttered shut, then opened again on the trail of a sigh. “I can’t watch any more,” he murmured. “Even that is out of my reach now.”
“Oh.” Sam sat back a little, blinking. “Well, that’s okay. Don’t scare me like that. We’ll be fine.”
He straightened his back, firming his resolve once more. “Yes. We’ll be fine.”
They both sounded so confident that if he didn’t believe her, she surely ought to be able to believe him.
Fortunately, neither of them had to believe for much longer. Only a few minutes later, both were able to see Teal’c climbing back toward them, cradling something in his hand. He looked pretty smug, for a Jaffa.
“Is this the device you require, Obi-Wan Kenobi?”
He revealed the object in his hand with what would have been a flourish, if this hadn’t been Teal’c, who never, ever flourished. Ever.
Obi-Wan blinked at the object. “That’s not a power module,” he said neutrally. “That’s a communicator.”
“Will it serve the purpose?”
“Yes. It will serve admirably.”
Obi-Wan accepted the communicator from the Jaffa’s broad palm and considered it for a few moments, then started fiddling with dials, switches and buttons. He explained himself for their benefit. “They’re probably monitoring all communications channels. A direct broadcast to my Master’s personal comm would give us away, but the Jedi have an emergency frequency, low-grade and seldom used on most civilized planets. I’m setting the communicator for short, timed bursts along that frequency. They won’t notice it, hopefully, but my Master will. If he’s watching, waiting for me to signal him. As I know he is, even though it’s been . . .”
He paused and looked away, over the trees. “It’s been a long time,” he finished at last. “I lost track of the days.”
Obi-Wan flipped one last switch. “There. It will serve as a homing beacon.” He propped the communicator against the tree trunk, then gazed back over the trees. “All we can do now is wait.”
Teal’c nodded, visibly digging his heels into the ground. “And while we wait, we will fight.”
Sam surged to her feet, following his gaze into the trees. Obi-Wan seemed too weary to make the connection quickly, though, staring up at them without comprehension. “No alternative?” he asked. His voice did not waver, but Sam thought it probably should have.
“Several patrols are approaching our position from various directions,” Teal’c confirmed. “There is, indeed, no alternative.”
“Canoids?” Sam asked.
“All four.”
Obi-Wan finally got it. He shoved himself to his feet, hands grasping urgently at their sleeves. “Go! They are not following your scent, only mine. Lose yourselves in the forest and rejoin your teammates. By now they may need rescuing, too. Don’t sacrifice them for me.”
Sam was not swayed by this subtly manipulative appeal, either. “We already told you that we’re not going to leave you, Obi-Wan. You might as well get used to it.”
She would never abandon a friend to the enemy again. Obi-Wan was theirs now, theirs to protect, and SG-1 left no one behind.
He pulled at their jackets in frustration. “I am a Jedi! You have no need to take my part in this—you never did! You are strangers here. You don’t understand what they will do to you. Go! I’ll watch your backs!”
The kid was starting to sound seriously panicked now. And the hell of it was that he wasn’t scared for himself, but for them. Sam rolled her eyes, then turned abruptly in his grasp and grabbed his elbows, forcing him to look at her.
“Obi-Wan, when this is all over, remind us to tell you about the times we’ve been captured by our enemies. We’ve all been caught and imprisoned and tortured, Obi-Wan. Heck, we’ve all died at least once. These guys are pretty bad, but I’ll bet they don’t have much on the Goa’uld. We understand what they will do to us. To you. That’s why we can’t allow it.”
“But how can you prevent . . .?”
“Bit of a pessimist, aren’t you, kid?”
Sam bit her tongue, then. She’d been accused of that herself a time or two. It wasn’t going to do anything to reassure the poor boy.
Teal’c nudged her shoulder, and she stepped aside, letting him take over. He bent his head to look Obi-Wan in the eyes. Sam waited for some warrior-brotherly wisdom, or a brilliant Jaffa battle plan.
Teal’c said nothing. He just looked at the young Jedi steadily, offering . . . offering a bunch of things, probably. Something passed between them, and Obi-Wan nodded.
“I accept the gift of your assistance, and humbly thank you,” he said formally, calmly.
Holy Hannah, how did these alien-warrior types manage to switch their moods like that? Teal’c could do it, too, all cold burning rage one moment and stoic concrete wall the next. Sam rarely managed even the appearance of calm in stressful situations, let alone the reality of it.
Then the three of them turned to face the coming storm. They had the high ground. Even if that was all they had, they definitely had the high ground.
It happened as they had all known it would. The first patrol that spotted them held back for a moment, urgent comm messages were exchanged, and the rest arrived. On all sides. And then advanced.
Sam held her P-90 steady, and felt Teal’c’s tension at her side. She tried to stare down every blank soldier’s gaze at once, tried to ignore every pointed weapon. Her wonderful gun, usually so comforting in her hand, so solid and real, felt about as useful as a twig. But she wasn’t backing down.
Obi-Wan pushed out from between them, facing the enemy. His hands were raised, not in surrender but in warning. “Soldiers of Nalucia! Do you truly wish to take on the full power of a Jedi? You know that with my freedom and a day of rest, I am now a match for all of you.”
Incredibly, some of the soldiers visibly shrank back, reconsidering. But most stood firm, and one of the commander-types cocked his weapon.
“Don’t think you can fool us with your Jedi sorcery, warlock! We know your tricks, and we reject your so-called power! You have no influence over us!”
The others shook off their hesitance, then, and more weapons were raised to shoulders, trained on Obi-Wan. The boy stood steady, but sweat shone on his face again, beginning to run into his collar. He was draining himself again trying to save them, damn it. But it might be the only chance they had, if he could succeed . . . even partially . . .
Obi-Wan pushed a little harder. “Do you truly wish to test me? Many of you saw me escape the prison last night. I did so easily, even while weary and wounded. Since then I have healed, and I am in my strength again. You doubt my word? Try me!”
Sam felt his arm tremble against hers and moved closer, inviting him to lean on her. He did, just a little, just enough so that they couldn’t see him shake, couldn’t see his knees beginning to buckle. C’mon, c’mon, just a little longer, believe him, you bastards . . .
She knew that they were waiting for rescue that had very little chance of reaching them in time, if it came at all. But after so many close calls and scrapes already in their fight to save the people they protected, after so many miracles pulled from the air and solutions arriving at the very last moment, she couldn’t help believing that it was possible.
Perhaps she wasn’t such an incurable pessimist, after all.
C’mon, Qui-Gon. Make it! Prove yourself worthy of his faith in you! Come! Drop out of the sky! Now!
Come now, damn you!
And slap a pair of wings on her and call her a pixie if the mental summons didn’t actually seem to work. A roar echoed out of the sky above, and some kind of aircraft hovered there, then began to descend, crashing through the branches into a slightly-cleared area, making the armed guards scatter. The moment the ship touched down, the cockpit began to open, and a really tall, really strong-looking man in Jedi clothes stood up and stared stonily at the forces surrounding them.
Obi-Wan gasped and sagged between Sam and Teal’c, finally running out, letting go. “Master,” he murmured, and it was a wonder Sam even heard him over the sound of the ship.
Qui-Gon Jinn leaped down from his ship, and in a few strides he was standing in front of them, shielding Obi-Wan from enemy eyes and staring every last one of them down. He held some kind of metal cylinder in his hand as if it was a weapon, though Sam didn’t see how it could be. Unless it was a grenade. But wouldn’t that be counter-productive?
“I am Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn, representative of the Jedi Council.” His voice had no difficulty reaching every ear. “Effective immediately, I’m taking these three into my protection. To reach them, you’ll have to come through me.”
There was a strange snap-hiss sound, and suddenly he held a beam of bright green light in his hand, extending from the metal cylinder. He held it like a sword, in a guard position across his body. Huh. If it was really made of light, it could probably deflect energy blasts. So he wasn’t bluffing here.
The soldiers seemed to know it. They backed up. A couple spoke urgently into their communicators. If they all fired at once they could probably cause problems for this big guy—Was he actually taller than Teal’c? Sam’s mind babbled incoherently.—but they seemed unwilling to take the risk of attacking a full-grown Jedi. Cowards. Pick on the kid, huh? Bet Qui-Gon wasn’t too pleased with that plan.
Their enemies seemed to all be coming to the same conclusion simultaneously. Almost as one, they turned and faded into the trees without a shot fired.
Obi-Wan started to fall, his strength finally giving way completely. Sam reached out to catch him, but Qui-Gon was faster.
He pulled the sinking Padawan into his arms, against his chest, the rich brown folds of his robe lapping around them. “I’m here, Obi-Wan,” he murmured in a voice not meant for their ears. “I’m here. You don’t have to be strong anymore. I’ll do it for you.”
Then, finally, Obi-Wan was able to release his burden. Only this one, only his Master, could ever relieve him of it.
Sam was just glad the man had finally shown up. Took him long enough.
But all was answered now.
