06 - Siren Song (26 page)

“I’ve already had a little look around,” Aris said. “You know how it is.”
Jack did understand; he’d been thinking of doing the same thing. No reason not
to take advantage of the fact that Daniel was out cold. “As far as I can tell,
this place goes on forever, all sharp corners and tight turns. Still don’t see
any way out. At least none that’s obvious.”

“I’m sure you won’t mind if I take a look myself,” Jack said and pushed up
from the ground without waiting for a response. Despite the fact that he carried
his light source in his hand, he had the sensation of rising into space without
stars, and for a split second he was back in the X-301, in the co-pilot’s seat
behind Teal’c, drifting out toward his death. “Damn,” he murmured, and closed
his eyes. It was like vertigo, but not as strong, and he couldn’t control the
images. Weird. He took a few cautious steps back in the direction they’d come
from… or at least, he thought he did. It was too easy to get turned around,
and he had nothing that looked remotely like a landmark. He’d have to start
doing something about that before they moved much further in.

Jack moved the beam of light around, left, then right, and saw what Aris had
described: walls, angles, corners. Nothing more. No exit.

“I hope to hell Jackson knows something about the inside of this thing,” Aris
said.

“That’s assuming he has any input,” Jack said. He turned back to look at
Aris, who reached up and tapped the wall.

“Don’t forget, Sebek is getting the information from somewhere in Dr.
Jackson’s brain.”

“And that counts as input,” Jack said dryly. “Right.” He clicked off his
light and stowed it in his pants pocket, then sat down again. Daniel still
hadn’t moved, and it crossed Jack’s mind that maybe Sebek was hurt in there,
somehow, or that Daniel was—

“He’s not dead,” Aris said, then added, “Not yet.”

For the moment, Jack ignored the implicit threat. “So do you have some kind
of plan?” Jack asked. The fact that he
didn’t
have one of his own sowed
a tiny seed of doubt in the back of his brain. He should be thinking faster than
this. He should be paying better attention, not losing it over tricks the snake
was playing. It was as though his brain were mired in molasses.

“Other than killing him once we get to where we’re going? No.” He met Jack’s
eyes. “There’s nothing you can do for your friend. Most men would welcome death
rather than be host to one of those things.”

Jack was silent. He’d seen Daniel offer himself up as a host, once—on their
first mission to Chulak—but that was before they’d really understood what it
meant to be subjugated to a Goa’uld. Daniel had been desperate to be with Sha’re
and half out of his mind at the time. Jack knew better than anyone how far from
that moment Daniel had come on the subject; he didn’t want to be host to a
snake, even on a voluntary basis. The first time the offer had been made, by the
Tok’ra, Daniel’s quiet but firm refusal had struck a sympathetic chord in Jack.
Not even the chance for a deeper understanding of Tok’ra culture had been enough
to sway Daniel, and that was something Jack hadn’t expected. Daniel had always
seemed open to new experiences, but that clearly wasn’t one he wanted to check
off his list.

After the incident with Jolinar, Carter, too, had made her wishes clear: a
quick kill, rather than a living death. Daniel had taken a little longer; maybe
six months after Sha’re’s funeral he’d mentioned it, offhand, as though they
were talking about what kind of pie to have for dessert. It had been a bad
period for Daniel, so Jack had asked him again, a few months later. Just to be
sure.

That’s not living,
Daniel had said, with quiet grief in his voice.
Think of the things they use the host to do, Jack. Don’t let a Goa’uld use me
to hurt anyone else.

“There’s no chance that was your friend talking, back there,” Aris said, as
if he thought Jack’s silence was a sign that his captive needed convincing.
Maybe it was. Jack knew what Daniel wanted.

He knew what had to be done. His hands were shaking.

Daniel-Sebek stirred and moaned softly. Jack watched him until he lapsed back
into unconsciousness, then turned his attention to Aris. “Why don’t you take
your son and get the hell off this planet?” Jack asked. “You’re resourceful. You
should be able to find a way, right?”

Aris took another swig from his canteen and capped it. “You have a simplistic
view of the situation.”

“The kid is enslaved, and you’re a snake lackey. That about covers it.”

“I’m no one’s lackey.” Aris sat forward, staring at Jack. “I’m a businessman.
A hunter. The Goa’uld trade with me because I make it worth their while.”

“Who makes it worth your son’s while?” Jack said. Aris’ eyes narrowed. “Or
are you planning to live the good life forever while he rots in a cell
somewhere, and make excuses about how you hope to buy his freedom someday?” It
made him feel better, gouging a few verbal holes in Aris’ armor and twisting
the knife down from heart to belly.

Aris set the canteen aside and picked up his blaster. “I don’t owe you any
explanations,” he said. “Drop it now.”

Jack made a dismissive sound through his teeth and lay down on the cold
ground. If there was a ceiling above them, it was completely concealed by the
darkness, and Jack was unnerved by the way the chamber seemed to stretch out
forever. A trick of the dark, but an effective one.

“It’s been one Goa’uld after another,” Aris said slowly. “Sokar, Apophis,
Sebek. I thought one of them would do the honorable thing and let me buy my son
out of slavery, but my reputation was already too great. They needed me to get
things for them, to move in circles where they couldn’t function themselves.”

“And they held your son prisoner to make it happen.”

“They had him in the mines,” Aris said. “Every breath was killing him. It was
Sebek who put him… in chains.” His voice wavered on the last words, then
steadied. “Sebek promised me that your capture would more than equal his price,
but he had no intention of freeing him. Even so, I had to try.”

If ever there was a motivation Jack could get behind, it was that one. With
any luck, Teal’c had broken the kid out of jail and they were hiding somewhere
in the city. Or maybe they had found a way off the planet. Even better. “Why do
the Tok’ra think you lied about your family?”

“I lie when it suits me,” Aris said, chuckling. “Half-truths help me do my
work. Besides, the Tok’ra intelligence is weak.”

“That must be where you buy yours,” Jack said, risking a wild stab in the
dark. Aris said nothing, and Jack made a mental note to pass that along to
Hammond. More confirmation of the leaks among their “trusted allies”. “Is Sebek
in service to Yu?” Jack asked and, for once, he didn’t go near the pool of Yu
jokes.

“Yes. And Yu already knows you’re here.” Aris paused, then added, “Not my
fault. Sebek contacted him.”

“Of course he did,” Jack said. No chance they were going to catch a break at
any point in this gigantic snafu. “And you still think there’s something in here
that will help you do… what? Defeat Yu?”

“Hard to say. But I told you, I’ve got nothing to lose.”

“Yes, I heard you.” Jack had a flash of Charlie’s face in the darkness, and
then Aadi’s. “But that’s not really true.”

“Fine. I have more to gain than to lose. How’s that?”

“At least it’s honest.”

A few minutes of quiet passed. Jack tried to rest his body, simple
preparation for whatever fresh hell was coming next. When Sebek got up off the
ground, things could only get worse. Aris’ voice, quiet and rough, broke into
his thoughts.

“There’s only going to be one chance to rid my world of Sebek, and I’m going
to take it.”

Jack’s memory slid off without his conscious will again, and he was there at
Daniel’s deathbed, beside Daniel’s bleeding body, asking Jacob to let Daniel go.
He allowed the memory to play out, then tucked it away where it belonged, in
that place where he kept these things, stuffed down as deep as he could manage,
so deep it barely existed anymore. He didn’t quite trust his own voice, but the
words came out without a hitch. “When the time comes, I’ll be the one to do it.”

Aris nodded once, the acknowledgment of an agreement made. “When the time
comes, if you don’t, I will.”

There was no answer to that, so Jack closed his eyes and made his mind a
blank. It wasn’t hard; he wasn’t processing information well.

“He’s coming around,” Aris said.

As if in response to Aris’ prompt, Daniel stirred. His lips moved, and words
whispered out in languages unfamiliar to Jack. Abruptly Daniel sat straight up,
then turned his head to stare at Jack first, then Aris.

When he spoke, all pretense of being Daniel was gone, and it was Sebek’s
imperious anger. “How dare you injure us?”

“You’re not hurt,” Aris said tiredly, and Jack felt a tiny—barely there—twinge of sympathy for him. “So get up and let’s go.”

“You do not give us orders,” Sebek said and lifted his hand. The ribbon
device flashed golden in the dim light. “Or we will remind you of your place.”

One corner of Aris’ mouth quirked up in a smile. To Jack, he said, “That one
works on me. For future reference.”

“Good to know,” Jack said, ignoring the muted growl from Daniel’s throat.

Sebek got to his feet slowly and folded his arms across his chest. “We do not
wish to delay further. On your feet.”

Jack rose, though his body protested the loss of the nice hard ground to rest
on. Aris stood up beside him.

“You first,” Aris said.

Jack pulled out the flashlight and clicked it on, then got moving, passing
Sebek without looking at him.

“I really have no idea where I’m going, you know,” Jack said. He stood at the
juncture of two passageways and thought he might as well flip a coin; they were
probably going to die in here, lost and starving to death, and that was
such
a pleasant thought.

Sebek’s hand landed on his shoulder. “To the right,” he ordered. Jack didn’t
bother to ask why or if he was sure; it didn’t matter anyway, at this point.

When they rounded the corner, Jack allowed the flashlight to strike the edge
of the wall. A fine chip appeared and dust silted down to the ground.

Not exactly bread crumbs, but it would have to do.

It was singing that drew Sam from sleep. At first it sounded like a nursery
rhyme she remembered from school, maybe, something she chanted while jumping
rope.
Apples, peaches, pears and plums. Jump right out when your birthday
comes. January, February…
But the words were all wrong, even if the rhythm
was right. She peered into the darkness, straightening her neck and wincing at
the crackle inside. It was night now, rain still pattering on the tarp over the
lattice. Beside her, Teal’c was upright in his half-lotus. His eyes were pricked
with light from the little stove as they met hers and then slid away. The room
was, if anything, more crowded now; she could still feel the shift and press of
at least a dozen of Brenneka’s kinsmen, a couple standing near the drifting
plastic over the entrance, the others kneeling on the mosaic floor. Sometimes
wavering and sometimes solid against the dim glow from the fire, their outlines
swayed slightly in time with the barely vocalized chant. Closest to the fire,
facing them all, Brenneka knelt, bowed over her clasped hands, Aadi close beside
her. As if feeling Sam’s gaze on him, Aadi lifted his head and returned her
stare. She couldn’t see what expression his face held. The firelight glowed
through his spiky hair and made him seem like a lit match next to Hamel’s
hunched and crooked form, his own fire long burned out.

“Some army,” Sam muttered as she pressed her hands to the floor and hitched
herself up straighter against the wall.

“Indeed,” Teal’c answered. His voice thrummed just above a whisper. “A boy
and an old man.”

“And a concussed Major and a wounded Jaffa. Don’t forget that.”

She could make out the tiny shift of shadows around his mouth that indicated
an ironic smile. “No. I have not forgotten.”

“And a man on the inside,” she added. Unless the Colonel was dead.
Calculating assets without proper intel was a pain in the ass. She stopped
gingerly probing her black eye with the tips of her fingers. “Wait a minute. A boy?”

Teal’c nodded toward the circle of singers. “Aadi has agreed to assist us.”

“Why?”

“He wishes to help his father.”

“Isn’t he kind of young?” Sam cast Aadi a glance. He was still watching them.

“I began my training at a younger age,” Teal’c answered. “As did my son, once
he was freed from servitude.”

Sam shifted uncomfortably. Aadi bowed low and leaned back to perform that
gesture with the rest of them, an opening of his grubby, clasped hands as if he
were setting free a bird. “He’s a kid.”

“This is war. There is no time for innocence.”

“That doesn’t make it okay.”

“No, it does not.” Teal’c inclined his head in sad acceptance.

Their prayers ended, the men rose stiffly to their feet. A couple of them
slipped out through the plastic and into the rain. A few shuffled for position a
little closer to the fire, hands held toward the heat, while the less lucky
hunkered down again inside their long shirts and waited their turn. Here and
there, Sam caught the cool gleam of
roshna
packets. The two who had left
returned with stacked bowls of water—rainwater, Sam guessed, and grimaced to
think what was washed out of the roiling air along with it—and the bowls made
their circuit around the room. Once those present had emptied their packets into
them and swallowed the contents, the room lapsed into a dull stillness, the
bodies relaxed without much release of tension or pain. Sam was keenly conscious
of her own muscles twisted tourniquet-tight around her bones. She leaned her
head left then right, listening to the snap, crackle, pop. If Teal’c was good to
go, then they had to go before her tendons snapped her neck in half.