A Matter of Honor Page 8

  It would have been an easy choice if Henry Boyd hadn't drifted into view - still alive, still dying, still missed every day by his wife and a daughter who'd forgotten her father's face. And so, in the end, it wasn't a choice at all. Despite Baal, despite Kinsey's threats, and despite his injured teammates, there was only one decision to make.

  "We'll need a ride."

  CHAPTER SIX

  he city was dark and silent, spread out below them in shifting shades of gray. There was no movement in the streets, few lights, and above them the glitter of alien stars shed a delicate sheen over the faces of Sam's teammates as they crouched on the roof of their accommodation.

  Below them lay a security checkpoint, the gray arch of the sheh fet glowing with a soft green light and guarded by three wellarmed men. In other circumstances they might have taken them out with zats. But not here. If the alarm were raised, Sam doubted they'd make it off the roof.

  "Now what?" Daniel whispered.

  "We'll have to jump," she whispered back, nodding toward the neighboring building. It was close, butted up toward theirs, but still a good two meters away.

  Daniel's eyes widened. "Jump?"

  "You'll be fine."

  "You remember I don't like heights, right? I mean, I have mentioned that before - several times, I think."

  "Not too late to change your mind." The voice was the colonel's. He came up behind them and crouched next to Daniel. "You still look like Casper."

  "Casper can fly."

  Sam smiled weakly. The anger radiating from the colonel was palpable, and most of it seemed to be directed at her; the fact that he refused to look at her was a dead give-away. Daniel was forgiven though, or so it seemed. Obviously it was only her motives he doubted. Fine, whatever.

  With a quick glance at the checkpoint below, O'Neill moved to the edge of the building. "I'll go first," he whispered. "Then Daniel, Carter and Teal'c. Okay?"

  Sam nodded along with the rest of them, but the colonel ignored her as he turned and rose to his feet. He took a few steps backward, eyed the jump and then ran and launched himself across the chasm. Landing smoothly on the other side, he disappeared into the shadows. Sam held her breath, watching the men below. One of them glanced up toward the skyline for a moment, then turned back to his conversation.

  "Your turn," she whispered to Daniel.

  He blew out a short, nervous breath and nodded. "Did I mention I hate this?"

  "Fear will make you strong," Teal'c reminded him quietly, and with a hint of amusement Sam didn't miss.

  Daniel twitched an eyebrow. "See you on the other side - I hope."

  As he approached the edge of the building, O'Neill's face emerged from the shadows. The colonel made a hurried beckoning gesture, so Daniel nodded and ran full-tilt toward the gap, flung himself into the air, arms windmilling, and hit the other rooftop. For a moment Sam thought he was going to topple backwards, but then O'Neill had a fist in the front of his vest and yanked him close. He took a good look at Daniel's face before depositing him carefully on the ground. Daniel had lost some blood, and despite the Kinahhi pain-killers, his head must have been hammering even before the acrobatics. Not that he'd ever complain. There were Marines who could learn a lesson or two about stoicism from Dr. Daniel Jackson.

  Her turn now. Carter took a couple of deep breaths and prepared for the jump. She was somewhat surprised to see O'Neill waiting on the other side; she'd assumed he'd leave her to her own devices in his current mood. Not giving herself time to consider the drop, Sam ran and threw herself into the air. There was a moment of total exposure, nothing above or below, and then her boots jarred against the stone roof and she stumbled forward under the force of her own momentum. A hand grabbed her arm, steadying her, and she looked up at the colonel. He held her gaze for an instant, nothing but cold starlight reflecting in his dark eyes. "Go make sure Daniel's okay," he said. "I think his head's started bleeding again."

  With a nod she pulled her arm from his grip and turned toward her friend, who lay propped up against a low stone wall around the flat roof. His face was pale as moonlight and a dark streak of blood dribbled from beneath the bandage. Sam grimaced and crouched in front of him. "Maybe this wasn't such a good idea."

  He shrugged. "Probably not. But it'll be worth it. Another book I can write and never publish."

  She smiled and reached for her med-kit, looking for a fresh dressing. "Stranger things have happened." She considered the point. "Actually, pretty much every day around here."

  Daniel gave an amused snort of agreement as behind her she heard the soft thud of booted feet hitting the roof; Teal'c had landed.

  "Let's hurry it up," ordered the colonel. "Daniel, you sure you're okay?"

  "I'm fine."

  "Carter?" The colonel didn't trust Daniel's self-assessment any more than she did.

  She pressed a new dressing over the cut on Daniel's head and began to fasten it in place. "He's not bleeding heavily, sir. I think he'll be okay."

  "I'm fine!" Daniel protested. "I said I'm fine."

  "Yeah," O'Neill replied. "You always say that." Then he turned to Teal'c. "Belay the rope."

  While Sam helped Daniel to his feet, and he tried to pretend he wasn't even slightly woozy, Teal'c tied the rope and after a moment they were ready to descend. "Same as before," O'Neill ordered. "Daniel, make sure your harness is secure. If you pass out I don't want you ending up as pizza on the sidewalk."

  Daniel winced. "Nice image."

  The colonel didn't answer, dropping over the edge of the building and disappearing. It didn't take long for the rest of them to follow and hide in the shadows of the silent street below. "The taxi stand was back that way," O'Neill whispered. "Keep your eyes open."

  Carefully they moved out. Sam was glad of the gun in her hands; dark windows stared down at them, like the blank eyes of the dead. The unnatural silence spooked her, amplifying even the smallest sound until she found she was jumping at shadows. Although what she had to fear, she didn't know. Kinahhi soldiers, perhaps? Or the dissidents? Or Baal.

  That thought drew her eyes back to O'Neill, leading them resolutely through the streets. She could see the tension in the square set of his shoulders and knew he had his own fears. Sometimes she thought she'd like to know the details, to have facts to counter the horrors of her imagination. Other times she thought it was best she didn't know. She wasn't sure she could live with that much anger. And yet he did. Everyday. Somehow he had retained his humanity and his perspective despite, or perhaps because of, the inhumanity he'd suffered. It was one of his most admirable-

  A soft sound hissed from behind her and Sam whirled around, weapon raised. "Sir," she called, quiet and urgent.

  "Carter?"

  "I heard something." Scanning the street she strained her ears to listen. "A scraping sound."

  He was beside and past her in two steps, fingers tight on the trigger of his P90 as he poked into the shadows.

  "I hear nothing, O'Neill," Teal'c reported after a moment.

  "Me neither," Daniel agreed.

  The colonel nodded and lowered his weapon slightly. But he didn't loosen his grip. "Let's keep moving."

  Rattled, Sam followed. She couldn't shake the feeling that all those dark windows hid eyes that were watching them and waiting for just the right moment to strike. She shivered and closed the gap between herself and the rest of the team.

  As they approached the street comer, O'Neill slowed and waved them all toward the walls of a shadowy building. "Down there," he whispered, peering around the comer. With the tip of his gun preceding him, he turned into the new street. "It's clear."

  The road stretched darkly ahead, and to one side was the rank of Kinahhi transport ships. So far, so good.

  "I hope you know how to hot-wire one of these things, Carter."

  "Piece of cake, sir." She hoped.

  Drawing nearer to the first transport, Sam was surprised to see the doors open and a faint light glowing within. She approached careful
ly, weapon raised, and stopped at the doorway. Daniel was behind her and quietly whispered, "This is convenient."

  "Yeah," she agreed. "Very."

  Standing flat against the ship, to one side of the door, she looked over at the colonel on the opposite side and waited for his signal. He gave a slight nod and counted down on his fingers. Three, two, one...

  They burst into the small ship with silent efficiency, weapons trained in all directions. It was empty. O'Neill nodded to Teal'c. "Cockpit."

  As they disappeared, Sam searched the wall for the controls and sent the door sliding firmly shut. It made her feel marginally safer.

  Daniel was still looking around, weapon at the ready. In this light she could see a glassiness to his eyes that she'd previously missed and it worried her. "Why don't you sit down?"

  He didn't need a lot of persuading, and sank carefully down onto a long cushioned bench and closed his eyes. She'd taken half a step toward him when O'Neill emerged from the cockpit with Teal'c in tow. "It's clear," he reported, glancing around the cabin. "Well, this is handy."

  Sam nodded. "You think it's a trap?"

  "That would imply they knew we were coming."

  "In which case why let us get this far?"

  No one had an answer to that, and they stood silently for a moment. "So?" Daniel murmured drowsily. "What do we do?"

  O'Neill shrugged. "Never look a gift-horse in the mouth, right?"

  "Unless it comes from Troy." The colonel graced him with a long, blank stare until Daniel peeled open his eyelids. "The Trojan horse?" He gave up. "Never mind."

  Sam caught the flicker of amusement on the colonel's face; she knew he loved to bait Daniel. "You look like crap, Daniel," was all he said. "Get some rest."

  Turning to her, his face hardened as he nodded brusquely toward the cockpit. "Carter, get this thing in the air." At least he looked her in the eye when he spoke, though there wasn't much forgiveness there.

  With a sigh she said, "Yes, sir."

  "And keep me posted. We wouldn't want you to forget to tell me something important, would we?"

  Jaw tight, she bit back her irritation and just nodded. "Yes, sir." And pardon me for giving a damn!

  Teal'c stood by the window, the dim inner light allowing him at least some view of the street beyond. It remained quiet, but he felt more comfortable standing watch. He sensed a threat in the dark, silent city.

  Behind him, Daniel Jackson was sleeping. He was unwell, and Teal'c grew concerned for his welfare. However, there was little that could be done until they returned through the Stargate, and meanwhile Daniel Jackson was a strong man. He would endure, as Teal'c did himself. His wounded shoulder burned, and he once more regretted the loss of his symbiote. The feeling was immediately followed by the sour taste of shame; he refused to mourn the means of his people's enslavement - of his own enslavement - whatever the cost.

  "What's taking her so damn long?"

  The question came from O'Neill, who was pacing the small cabin like a caged tiger, more troubled than Teal'c had ever seen him. No doubt the imminent prospect of encountering Baal's palace was weighing on his mind. Among other things. "I am sure Major Carter is working as fast as she is able," Teal'c said, still keeping a wary eye on the street outside.

  O'Neill grunted, unconvinced. "We're like sitting ducks here."

  There was no denying the point. But he doubted their current situation was the cause of the colonel's restlessness, merely a convenient expression of deeper anxieties. Teal'c knew the man well. And he understood O'Neill's anger at the actions of Daniel Jackson and Major Carter, however well intentioned. In that, he had also played a part. "I should have informed you of Baal's connection with this planet, O'Neill," he confessed. "I did not do so at the insistence of Major Carter and Daniel Jackson. I believe I was mistaken."

  "Yeah," was the clipped response. The pacing continued, forcing Teal'c to elaborate further.

  "Major Carter and Daniel Jackson did not mean to undermine your authority," he said, lowering his voice so that it did not travel beyond O'Neill's ears. "They do not always think as we do."

  He was answered by a long silence, punctuated only by the soft thud, thud, thud of O'Neill's boot kicking against the side of the cabin. "Daniel's not a soldier," he said at last. "I expect that kind of thing from him. But Carter, she should know better."

  "Major Carter made a mistake." Teal'c turned slightly and saw O'Neill standing with his back to him, still kicking irritably at the wall. "Mistakes can be forgiven."

  O'Neill turned, eyeing him warily. "You think I'm being too hard on her?"

  Choosing not to answer directly, he decided on a more oblique response. "I believe you suspect that Major Carter's decision was not entirely objective. Perhaps you should examine your response in a similar light?"

  The shutters closed. "Right."

  Too close, Teal'c reprimanded himself. There were certain things O'Neill refused to admit, even to himself. Saying no more, Teal'c let silence fill the space between them. Unlike the Tauri, he understood that the meaning of silence was all too often drowned by the words employed to hide it. And so he left O'Neill to his thoughts and returned his gaze to the streets outside, still dark and filled with a different and more menacing silence of their own.

  "Sir?" Major Carter's triumphant face appeared from the cockpit. She was not smiling, but he could see subtle defiance in her eyes. "We're in business."

  He was floating, everywhere and nowhere. He could see everything, feel everything, but touch nothing. He could hear screaming - enraged, hopeless, defiant screaming. He knew the voice, he knew it too well. And he felt the pain as if it were his own.

  Their concerns are not ours, the voices whispered. Intercession is not permitted.

  But he's dying! He could feel the life seeping out of him, see his soul falling into shadow

  Death is the fate of the unenlightened.

  And he could see it now, the darkness. Like a maw of some hideous evil, ravenous for new blood. And his screams were fading, his hope was fading, and he could see him falling. Falling, falling, falling into darkness...

  "NO!"

  The sound of his own cryjolted him out of sleep, his harsh breathing the only sound in the gloom.

  It was dark.

  Why was it dark?

  Disoriented, head imploding with pain, he felt soft fabric beneath his hand as the tried to sit up. The screams, the darkness, the crushing pain in his head... "Jack?"

  Strong fingers reached out and seized his arm. "I am here, Daniel Jackson." Teal'c? "We are aboard the Kinahhi transport ship, and approaching the city of Tsapan."

  Tsapan? Yes. Yes, the Kinahhi. Tsapan. Baal. He remembered and pressed a hand against his throbbing head. "Why's it so dark?"

  "Colonel O'Neill did not think it advisable to advertise our arrival."

  Tactics, right. That made sense. He opened his eyes cautiously, afraid it might intensify the nauseating pain inside his head. It didn't, and through the gloom he could just pick out the figure of Teal'c crouching before him. "I think I was dreaming."

  The Jaffa's eyes blinked, a glint of light in the dark. "I believe you were."

  Those screams, the memory was like a foul slime coating his mind. He covered his eyes and tried to will the image away - no one should scream like that. No one should survive that. No one should have to live with those memories.

  "Daniel Jackson, are you well?"

  He nodded between his hands and sucked in a deep breath. "Bad dreams, Teal'c."

  There was a long, pregnant pause. "Do you wish to speak of them?"

  Daniel shook his head. Maybe it would help, but they weren't his dreams to share. There was only one person who had a right to hear them, but Daniel doubted that conversation would ever happen.

  Bury it deep, he told himself. And leave it there.

  The silence in the cockpit was unnatural and excruciating.

  Jack sat staring out the window, feeling the tension twist in his chest
as the glittering rainbow city drew closer and closer. Baal's palace -just the thought was enough to send little darts of fear shooting through his chest. Even his restless fingers were idle, scrunched into tight fists on his legs as he watched the city grow larger and larger through the wide window. There's no one there, O Neill, he reminded himself. Been a long time since you were afraid of the dark.

  No, not afraid of the dark. Afraid of the light. The white light that heralded another desperate dawn-

  "NO!"

  The muffled yell came from behind them, back in the cabin. Daniel. Carter flung him a concerned look - the first time she'd looked at him since she'd eased the Kinahhi ship into the air - and he half rose to his feet. Then he heard the muted rumble of Teal'c's voice and Daniel answering quietly. A dream, probably. Wouldn't have been the first time Daniel had startled himself awake, all cold-sweat and disorientation, especially since the whole `higher being' incident.

  Satisfied that Teal'c was handling it, Jack eased himself back into the seat and cast half a glance at Carter. Teal'c's words still lingered in his mind, illuminating his own actions with a clarity that made him wince. She'd only wanted to protect him and he'd bitten her head off like he was dealing with a raw recruit on the parade ground.

  Just do your job.

  Except, he knew he'd have done the same thing for her. For any of them. And so would she. Which was exactly the problem. What was okay for Daniel or Teal'c didn't wash for Colonel O'Neill or Major Carter. There had to be a distance between them, they had to be careful. They had always been so careful, especially Carter. But this...? He'd had no choice but to yank her back into line, however hypocritical he felt.

  He sighed. She must have heard it, because she cast him a sidelong glance. What was she thinking, he wondered. Was she as pissed with him as he'd been with her?

  Probably. And he probably deserved her anger, just like she deserved the apology he could never offer. But he still wanted to make things right. He hated this tension, especially now, when they were about to face who-knew-what, and Baal's phantom was lurking around every comer. He needed his team in one piece. He just didn't know how to begin with Carter - he never had.