Heart's Desire (21 page)

There had been no return to normal, no going back to the life he had led before his father's death, when he had trusted in his god without any doubt. He did not believe there had been one for Daniel Jackson, either, but Teal'c could see that he wished to believe that his life would once again be what it was before Sha're's death, or perhaps before their marriage, if he only waited long enough.

“Perhaps you are right,” Teal'c said.

“I wish there were something we could do for these people,” he said in frustration. “But Reba may be right that anything we do is going to make things worse for them. And yet if we just sit around and do nothing…”

“We must wait for a chance to escape and return to the Stargate,” Teal'c said. He felt it was best that they kept their mind on the things that were in fact their responsibilities at the moment.

“Right,” Daniel Jackson said, but he still seemed distracted. He looked as though he had slept little, his eyes shadowed in the dim lantern light.

I am sorry
, Teal'c was tempted to say, although he had said it before and knew another apology would not be welcome. It was not only Sha're's death that he regretted, while knowing that he would make the same choice again, but the death of the young man who had stubbornly believed that she would someday return to him. These last weeks had aged his friend, and set his face into harder lines that Teal'c doubted would ever entirely fade.

He sat down instead, to avoid having to fight to keep his balance on the swaying deck, and risked edging the radio out from under the folds of cloth that concealed it. He turned the volume up and spoke softly. “O'Neill, Major Carter, do you
—”

He broke off at footsteps coming down the stairs, and quickly muted the volume before hiding the radio again. If the storm kept up, the crew was likely to be active through the night. It would give them little chance to attempt to reach the rest of the team. They could only hope that Major Carter could track them despite their silence.

The deck seemed to pitch again, the pull of gravity shifting oddly, making Daniel Jackson clutch at the bars of the cage so as not to stagger into the wall. “Looks like we're in for a long night.”

Teal'c nodded. “Indeed.”

S
am wrenched the valve she was working on closed, wiping it clean to test the seal. It stayed dry, to her satisfaction. The engine was well-built, although various systems had clearly been jerry-rigged over the years.

Jack was at the helm again, while she thawed out. The temperature had dropped sharply after sundown, and the wind was picking up, the gondola rocking as they were buffeted by the storm. She'd have to spell him again before long, as cold as it was, although she thought they both felt better having the more experienced pilot at the helm in winds like these.

She was running out of obvious improvements that wouldn't mean dismantling the gravity drive, which she still wasn't sure she felt like doing. The patchwork interface was frankly a bad idea to start with, and although she thought she might be able to build something more suitable given enough time, she'd need Jolinar's memories of Tok'ra technology to do it. She wasn't sure she wanted to open that box any further.

She shook her head and tested the next valve. The point of working on the engine was to avoid unwelcome thoughts. It didn't seem to be working. Jack was right, their stay on Ne'tu had thrown her, and that was infuriating. She'd spent so much time proving that she had a right to be here. She couldn't afford to let things get to her.

It was all very well for Jack to say that the job got to everyone. Nobody was going to say that he ought to be in some nice safe support position where he wasn't ever going to get hurt. And, all right, he'd apparently had some personal problems after his son's death, to the point that it had been a black mark on his record, but no one had seemed to feel like bringing that up since the first time he'd saved the planet.

Sam was pretty sure that no matter how many times she saved the planet, she still couldn't afford to have nightmares about exactly what it felt like to be on her knees with a pain stick wracking her until she screamed, hoping that it wasn't hurting her symbiote too badly for it to heal—

Y
es, because you need me to survive here
, Jolinar couldn't help thinking.

Because I care about you
, Rosha thought back just as sharply, trying to steady herself with her hands on her knees once the guard had moved on to punish one of the other unlucky prisoners. The thought seemed to strengthen her, as if it was easier for her to keep herself alive if she told herself it was for Jolinar's sake.
Of course it is,
Rosha replied as she caught the thought.
That way I don't have to think about whether it would be easier to just give up.

We'll find a way out of here,
Jolinar told her, but she wasn't sure her tone was reassuring. She didn't have the energy to spare to be reassuring, or to take care of Rosha beyond healing her body, mending her burns and easing the cramps in her muscles, improving the function of her lungs as much as she could so that they could breathe the hot, polluted air.

You don't have to take care of me,
Rosha thought, forgiveness for the things Jolinar was too tired to even ask forgiveness for, her single-minded focus on her own survival and the things she'd need to do to ensure it. It was still hard not to just push the part of her that was Rosha down far enough that she wouldn't have to feel any of this, and where Jolinar wouldn't have to think of her until she found a way for them both to escape—

No
, Rosha said firmly.
 
What if I'm the one who can find a way out of here?

She didn't feel alarmed, just insistent, but Jolinar was distantly aware that this was an alarming train of thought. Maybe that was the way it had been for the first Goa'uld, maybe they had never intended to take over their hosts' bodies and minds entirely, but at some point it had just seemed so much easier…

Jolinar
, Rosha said, and the tenderness in her mental voice made the back of Jolinar's throat ache treacherously.
Will it really be easier for you if I go to sleep until we can get out of this place?

I'm afraid this is hurting you,
Jolinar thought, keeping the thought as cool and dry as she could. At the same time, she started climbing unsteadily to her feet. They would be distributing water rations soon, and she could not keep them alive without water.

Of course it is,
Rosha said calmly.
But I think you need me.

 
Jolinar didn't answer at once. She was opening her canteen, keeping a tight grip on its lid so that she wouldn't drop it with weary hands.

I can't afford to,
she said finally. The canteen still held a precious few drops of tepid water, and she tipped it up so that Rosha could drink.

S
am swore under her breath. Once again she'd gotten caught up in a memory that wasn't even hers. It wasn't real, she told herself, just a story about something that happened on television, or that happened to someone who lived a long time ago.

The ship rocked in the wind, and she realized she wasn't sure how long she'd been staring at her own hands holding the wrench. She looked up sharply at the warning dials at a low, ominous rumble, and then realized after a moment that it must have been thunder.

Sam made her way cautiously to the speaking tube, the deck still rocking, and raised her voice as she spoke. “Sir? How's the weather?”

“Not good!” he called down.

“Should we try to set down?”

“I don't think we can! You're going to have to come up, I can barely hear you.”

She ran up the stairs, sparing a glance for Keret, who seemed to be sound asleep despite the weather. When she stepped out on deck, she caught her breath as the wind whipped snow into her face. There was another crack of thunder, and she could see the flash lighting part of the gray sky white.

She could immediately see the problem; the visibility was terrible, the sky in all directions turning into a featureless gray that obscured all but the faint dark outlines of the towering peaks. The wind whipped at her as she made her way across the deck, and Jack caught her arm when she came close enough, towing her close enough to the rail that she could grasp it gratefully.

“I don't see how we can set down,” he said. “Not when we can't see a damn thing in this snow.” He shook his head. “Better to get as much speed as we can out of this thing and try to run out of it.”

“While avoiding running into the side of a mountain,” Sam said.

“That would be the trick.”

 
“It's getting too cold to stay on deck for long,” Sam said. “We're going to have to trade off at the helm.”

“We need more speed,” Jack said.

“I can maybe get it, but I'm going to have to adjust the gravity drive
—”

“So go do it.”

The wind was punishingly cold, and even wrapped in a wool coat and hat over his uniform jacket, she didn't think Jack was dressed to spend all night in it. “If you get hypothermia, or frostbite
—”

“Then that'll suck, but what else have we got?”

“There's Keret,” she said.

“Sure, the guy who kidnapped us.”

“That is why we brought him.”

“I was thinking more that he could tell us how to keep that overgrown coffee maker these guys call an engine from blowing up.”

“I can do that,” Sam said. “I just can't do experimental modifications to the Goa'uld gravity drive interface and take a turn flying the ship at the same time.”

“Remind me to requisition another one of you when we get home,” Jack said.

She shook her head. “Yes, sir.”

“All right, take the helm,” Jack said.

“Hang on a minute,” Sam said. “They've got a couple of staff weapons mounted up here on the rail. They're bolted in place, and they won't swivel to fire on the deck, but we probably shouldn't give Keret the chance to take them apart.”

“Pull the power cells out of the staff weapons,” Jack said. “Just in case. And then I'll go down and have a little talk with Keret about how helping us not crash the ship would be in his best interest.”

“And not double-crossing us,” Sam said.

“I'm going to make that clear, too,” Jack said, drawing his pistol pointedly and bracing himself to make his way back to the hatch against the wind.

J
ack descended the stairs as fast as he could manage, on the theory that stopping to think about whether he'd like to climb more stairs today wasn't going to help. He was developing a list of things that he was irritated at the people on this planet about, and ‘not putting elevators on your airships in clear violation of the Don't Make Jack O'Neill's Day Worse Act' was starting to be high on the list.

“Wake up,” he said, thumping the bars of the cargo cage for emphasis, since kicking them seemed like a bad idea.

“Who could sleep through this?” Keret said without opening his eyes or moving from where he was sprawled on his pallet.

Jack cocked the pistol, and then realized the noise was unlikely to be a meaningful threat on a world without firearms. He drew his zat left-handed and activated it. That did get Keret to open his eyes.

“Easy, there,” the man said. “I don't see what I could have done to make you angry while I'm locked up in my own cargo hold.”

“I don't really need new reasons,” Jack said. “You may have noticed the weather.”

“Not being stone deaf, yes,” Keret said. “Regretting stealing my ship yet?”