A Matter of Honor Read online

  "Wow," Carter breathed, always the mistress of understatement. "It's beautiful."

  "Indeed it is," Quadesh replied. "Beauty bought at a price, so legend has us believe."

  "What do you mean?"

  Before Quadesh could reply, Teal'c spoke. "The design is Goa'uld."

  Surprised, Jack turned back to the shining city. "Really? Where's all the Las Vegas chic?"

  Carter smiled, but Quadesh was as sober as ever. "The legend tells us that Kinahhi was once ruled by the good and wise King Yahm," he told them. "He was beloved of the gods until his disdain for them grew so great that they sent Re'ammin the Thunderer to punish him. Yahm was cast into the ocean and Tsapan was built on the site of his defeat by the Kinahhi people he enslaved."

  Jack flicked a curious glance at Carter. She just shrugged - we need Daniel.

  "What became of Re'ammin?" Teal'c asked, his eyes fixed on the glittering city. "The name is familiar to me."

  "He fled when the Kinahhi people rose up and used his magic against him," Quadesh replied with an indulgent smile. "The magic, of course, is the technology of Tsapan."

  Jack's gaze returned to the city, which floated elegantly above the gentle waves. "It uses the same anti-gravity technology as your ships?"

  "Ships?"

  "Airplanes," Jack explained, waving at the sky.

  Quadesh frowned. "I do not-"

  "The colonel's referring to the transport we traveled in," Carter explained. "Is that how the city floats? Using anti-gravity technology„

  "Ah yes. You are correct, Major Carter. It has taken many generations for our people to understand the technology, but Tsapan is the source of all that we have learned. What once enslaved us has now set us free."

  Jack smiled at that. "Nice irony." But his mind was already racing ahead, turning over the possibilities and speculating on the opportunities such technology might deliver...

  "I'm sorry, Heather I wish there was more I could do. "

  "Do you?"

  "And yet," Teal'c said, scattering Jack's thoughts, "despite your freedom, you fear to walk the streets of your city and your leaders bear arms."

  Turning away from the city, Jack fixed his gaze on the Kinahhi man. Teal'c made a good point and one that Quadesh seemed reluctant to address. When he spoke it was tight-lipped and defensive. "We do what we must to protect our society. Threats no longer come from mythical gods, Teal'c - they come from people who would destroy the freedom for which we have long fought."

  Teal'c said no more, but Jack could sense the unease in his friend and knew better than to dismiss it. "Tell me," he said to Quadesh as they turned away from the ocean, "who are these people you're fighting?"

  As soon as Daniel stepped through the gray arch the young soldier was on his feet and standing in front of him. "Let me guess," Daniel snapped, "that thing just told you I want to scoop out Bill Crawford's brains with a spoon and now you're going to arrest me?"

  The young man blinked in surprise and said, "No. I've been asked to escort you to the Tauri quarters, sir. This way, please."

  Blindsided, Daniel muttered an embarrassed, "Oh. Right. Uh, thanks." He'd definitely been spending too much time with Jack. He was beginning to channel the man. Falling in at the soldier's side he followed him through the white corridors of the Kinahhi government building and, clearing his throat, tried for a friendlier tone. "So... I'm Daniel."

  The soldier cast him a sideways look and said, "Chief Officer Abdar."

  He smiled and searched for something else to say. "I, uh, guess you've seen quite a few arrests, huh?"

  The kid kept his eyes front and center. "Some."

  "You must have a lot of prisons." No response. "You ever seen one? Been inside one?"

  "I'm sorry, I'm not familiar with the term."

  "Prisons? You know, places where you keep people who-"

  He was stopped by a hand on his arm. "We must be careful here, Doctor Jackson." Abdar indicated a turn in the corridor. "The building was damaged two days ago and it is still being made safe." Daniel didn't have time to comment before they rounded the comer and he found himself staring through a crumbling wall and out into a street lined by square buildings. People hurried past, heads bowed, while men worked to repair the damage. Rubble still covered the floor and there was a crack along the ceiling that gave Daniel an ominous sense of claustrophobia.

  "What happened?"

  Abdar shrugged. "The Mahr'bal. Dissidents. The government is always a target."

  "They attacked you?"

  He nodded. "We've been at war with them since Libnah." When Daniel didn't reply, he added, "One of our colonial outposts. It was wiped out fifty years ago by a biological attack. Ever since, we've been at war."

  "The Mahr'bal are an enemy state?" Daniel asked, raking a hand through his hair and getting that horrible feeling they'd bitten off far more than they could chew. It wouldn't be the first time the SGC had put itself in the middle of someone else's war. In his experience, it never ended well.

  "No. They are of Kinahhi," Abdar told him. "They just don't believe in the same things we do. Freedom, technology, progress."

  "So, what do they believe in?"

  Abdar shrugged as they put the damage behind them. "The old ways. The old gods..."

  "Old gods?" Instantly on alert, Daniel found himself glancing about as if expecting a contingent of Jaffa to come marching around the next comer.

  Abdar smiled, shaking his head. "Every fool knows there are no gods. They were simply legends and myths to explain the inexplicable when our people were primitive and ignorant. But the Mahr'bal don't know reason. They're fanatics. They would have us all believe as they do, or die for our heresy. Here," he said, stopping before a narrow door. "We can leave here."

  Pushing open the door, Abdar led Daniel into a sparse, white square. Windows and doors surrounded the empty courtyard and all was still and quiet. "This is where your people are to stay," he told them. "You will be safe here. It is within the security perimeter. For your own protection, however, you must not leave the quadrangle."

  Blinking in the bright sunshine, Daniel squinted at the young man and nodded his thanks. "Are my friends here?"

  Abdar shook his head. "They will return soon." He gave a curt smile. "Once your friends arrive, food will be provided. There are facilities in the rooms."

  Daniel managed a weak smile. "Thanks." But the sheh fet's flickering lights flashed disturbingly into his mind and he wished the accommodation didn't look quite so much like a prison.

  Sam gazed out of the window of the transport as it flew them back across the city, trying to make out the features of the alien world. Ahead of them, she could see a vast complex which she guessed must house the Kinahhi Stargate. Ringed by a wide building, the inside of the complex was a maze of walkways and courtyards similar to the one from which they'd embarked on their excursion. It was almost a small city in itself.

  "Looks like the Pentagon," the colonel muttered quietly.

  She smiled. "Yes, sir."

  Her thoughts soon drifted away from the Kinahhi city and back toward Tsapan. Its beauty was striking, especially in comparison with the utilitarian style of the Kinahhi. It wasn't only the city's beauty that fascinated her though, it was the technology. What kind of technology could float an entire city above the ocean? How did you even begin to create an anti-gravitational `bubble'? It was no science she'd ever come across, and the prospect of challenging yet more of what she thought she knew about how the universe worked was intoxicating. Turning away from the window she smiled at Quadesh. "Would it be possible to visit Tsapan? I'd love to take a closer look at the technology it uses."

  The councilor shook his head, a slight disapproving gesture. "I am afraid that's not permissible, Major Carter."

  At her side she felt O'Neill shift. "Why not?"

  Quadesh turned his amber eyes on him. "The city is a site of great importance to the Kinahhi," he said carefully. "As well as the root of our technology, for some it
is also a site of religious importance. We cannot admit outsiders, on grounds of both security and cultural sensitivity."

  "Some of the Kinahhi still worship the false gods?" Teal'c asked abruptly, and Sam winced at the irritation she heard in his voice. Not easily riled, this was the one subject on which Teal'c could rarely stay silent. And, for him, that was saying something.

  Quadesh seemed surprised by the question, and for a moment Sam didn't think he was going to answer. He gazed at Teal'c, a calculation racing beneath the mirror-like surface of his eyes. "Access to the city of Tsapan is one of the major conflicts between the government and the Mahr'bal."

  "Marbles?" Sam hid a smile at the colonel's quiet interruption, but Quadesh seemed oblivious.

  "They do not approve of our use of the technology we have 'scavenged' - in their view - from the holy site."

  Anger touched Teal'c's face. "There is nothing holy about the Goa'uld."

  Quadesh simply inclined his head but his lack of an answer made Teal'c frown, and Sam still couldn't shake the feeling that the Kinahhi man was keeping something from them. She shifted in her seat, tense now, finding it difficult to sit still. It drew O'Neill's attention.

  "What?" he asked.

  "Nothing, sir."

  "Yeah," he said quietly. "I know what you mean."

  Still uneasy, Sam returned to her study of the city. They were barely skimming over the tops of the buildings, obviously coming in to land. But to her eye it was simply a blur of disappointment. If only she could spend half an hour in the floating city, just get one look at the technology... Next to her the colonel sighed heavily, pulled his cap out of a pocket and jammed it onto his head. When she looked over at him he gave her a frustrated frown. "Maybe we can trade for it?"

  His mind had obviously been following hers, as it so often did. She nodded thoughtfully. "I suppose it's possible that's why Crawford's here."

  "Oh, somehow I doubt that. Kinsey won't be after anything useful."

  She was about to reply when white walls suddenly shot up either side of the transport and, with barely a bump, they came in to land. The doors hissed open and Quadesh rose to his feet. "I will take you to your accommodation now," he told them politely. "Your friend, Daniel Jackson, is awaiting you."

  Sam flashed a wary glance at the colonel. "Short negotiations."

  "Very."

  They followed Quadesh out of the transport and found themselves standing in a narrow street, cast in alternating shadow and light. Their transport was parked - if that was the right word - in a row of similar ships.

  "Taxis?" O'Neill suggested quietly.

  She shrugged. Maybe.

  "This way," Quadesh told them, already moving, eyes darting nervously at the dark, silent buildings. "We must hurry"

  Daniel lay staring at the ceiling in one of the white, clean and boring rooms they'd been given. There was nothing there to spark his interest, no architectural curiosities, no inscriptions to translate. Simply a bed, a side table and a chair. Oh, and through the narrow door at the far end, a bathroom. En suite. Jack would be impressed.

  His stomach grumbled and he wondered if the Kinahhi would be offended if he broke out his MBE's instead of waiting for the food they were providing. Then again, he doubted he could piss them off any more than he already had, so why worry? He sat up and reached for his pack, trying to decide between Country Captain Chicken or Jamaican Pork Chop. Not that it really mattered anyway; they all tasted the same - synthetic and slightly toxic. Meals-Ready-to-Eat were never exactly-

  "Nice."

  The word drifted through the door he'd left ajar and had the unique mix of sarcasm, humor and pertinence that could only be Jack O'Neill. Abandoning his pack, Daniel headed for the door and saw Jack, Sam and Teal'c following a tall Kinahhi man into the plaza. Jack was glancing around doing his lost tourist impersonation while, no doubt, actually taking in every strategic detail. Sam and Teal'c were a few steps behind, and neither looked entirely happy. Which just about mirrored his own feelings on the situation.

  Stepping out of the room he raised his hand. "Hey."

  Jack's attention snapped to him. "Daniel. Having fun?"

  "Oh yeah," he replied sourly. "Oodles."

  "Oodles?"

  He shrugged, unwilling to say more in the presence of the Kinahhi man. Seeing him closer, he recognized him as Councilor Quadesh. Now that was an interesting choice of tour guide.

  Quadesh drew to a halt, inclining his head politely to Daniel. Giving nothing away. "If you are ready to eat," he said, "I shall ensure a meal is brought to you."

  "Steak?" Jack suggested. "With fries. And ice-cream - vanilla."

  The Kinahhi merely blinked in response and Daniel felt obliged to intercede. "Thank you for your hospitality, Councilor. A meal would be welcome."

  Quadesh smiled, barely. "For your own safety, please do not leave the quadrangle."

  "Our own safety, huh?" Jack echoed, but it elicited no response as Quadesh turned to leave. Under his breath Jack muttered, "Our own safety, my ass."

  Daniel had to agree.

  Bill Crawford was an ambitious man. He'd learned early in life that success was less about what you knew than who you knew, and he'd spent the years since then trying to get to know the right people. His introduction to Senator Kinsey, at his former girlfriend's father's inauguration party, had been a godsend. Kinsey was a man whose ego required the sort of constant validation that Bill Crawford found so easy to provide, and in return he intended to ride on Kinsey's coattails all the way to Washington.

  He just hoped Jackson and his gung-ho team wouldn't screw it up for him. Kinsey had warned him all about SG-1 and so far they were living right up to their reputation. On the plus side, if they really did screw up and he could prove it, getting the infamous SG-1 out of the Senator's side would earn him enough brownie points to retire on. So he had to take a risk, give them enough rope to hang themselves and hope they didn't throttle his negotiations in the process. It was a tight game, but Crawford had always enjoyed playing close to the wire. He liked the sense of power it gave him, he liked the notion that he was playing these suckers off against each other.

  "Mr. Crawford?" The voice, smooth and bell-like, came from Coun cilor Damaris, bringing him back to himself. He moved away from the window, where he'd been staring out over the ugly Kinahhi city, and turned on the charm.

  "You have a beautiful city, Councilor. We have no such beauties at home."

  A delicate eyebrow rose. "Our city is designed to be strong, not beautiful, Ambassador."

  He froze. The Kinahhi were an observant people. He needed to practice more caution, more subtlety. "Strength," he said, "has its own beauty and it is something that our government - especially Senator Kinsey - appreciates. Strength and security."

  "On that we can agree." Amused, she motioned toward the door. "Your quarters are ready, Ambassador. And your military escort awaits you there."

  Typical. The last thing he wanted to do was spend the evening butting heads with O'Neill and Jackson! Clearing his throat, he straightened his shoulders and offered an ingratiating smile. "It certainly isn't necessary to accommodate me with my escort, Councilor. I trust the Kinahhi implicitly."

  "Of course," she agreed, pale eyes fixing him with a look he couldn't fathom. She turned away, resting an elegant hand on the windowsill. An evening breeze fluttered her robes and stirred her silver hair. But her face was rigid, a study in control. "Am I right in sensing some antipathy between yourself and your escort?"

  He detected a tension in her, as if his answer was more significant than mere political maneuvering. She wanted it to be true, for reasons of her own. That made him curious. And it gave him an advantage. Carefully he said, "They are sometimes precipitous in their actions."

  "Impulsive. Aggressive. Headstrong." Her voice was like gossamer on the breeze. "The sheh fet identified them as such. They are not traits with which we are at ease, Ambassador."

  Crawford moved to stand closer, lowerin
g his voice and turning his eyes toward the silent city. The sun was setting now, its flabby yellow bulk painting the featureless skyline in shades of burned orange and rust. In a different place, it might have been beautiful. "I can assure you, Councilor, that the impulsiveness of Colonel O'Neill and his team has not gone unnoticed by our government. Senator Kinsey, in particu lar, has been-" he chose the words carefully - "inconvenienced by them on several occasions. You might say, they are a thorn in his side."

  Damaris turned to him, her eyes bright against the sunset blush that glimmered on her olive skin. "Thorns can be removed," she said mildly.

  Crawford's heart beat a little faster, but he kept his head. His father would have been proud. "Sometimes trying to remove the thorn only drives it deeper."

  The councilor nodded. "It is important," she said, "to use the correct instrument."

  Trying to swallow, he found his throat knotted tight. He had the distinct feeling he'd wandered out onto thin ice, suspended above water deep enough to close over his head before he had time to scream.

  His silence drove the brightness from Damaris's eyes and she turned away. "It is late, Ambassador, and I am keeping you from your rest." He made a demurring noise in his throat, but she brushed it lightly away. "It is the wish of the Council that you remain with your people. The accommodation is quite comfortable, I assure you."

  There was no choice but to acquiesce gracefully. "Thank you," he smiled. And then, more cautiously, "I look forward to resuming our conversation tomorrow."

  Her careful eyes met his. "As do I, Ambassador. Come, I will walk with you to your quarters."

  By the time Crawford arrived in the small quadrangle, SG-1 had made themselves at home. Jackson sat leaning against a white wall, legs crossed in front of him with his nose buried in a large book. O'Neill was close by, talking to the woman - Carter - while eating something from a metallic pouch and apparently ignoring the spread of food laid out on a low table on the other side of the courtyard. And the alien, Teal'c, appeared to be doing some kind of weird Tai-chi with the stick he always carried. Crawford clenched his jaw. He really didn't want to spend the evening with these people.