When All The Other Angels Fled
written by: : jo jo bruiser
siderius@netidea.com
Summary: Sam and Janet rely on their wits while they are abducted
and during the aftermath
Pairing: none
Rating: PG-13
Category: action adventure
Status: Complete
Season/Spoilers: Up to season 6
Archived: Heliopolis, FanFiction.Net, StargateCAN
Warnings: violence
Disclaimer: I wrote this for fun. I made no money and I know that these characters
do not belong to me. Feedback is always welcome.
“Come on – Stand up.”
But she can’t. She is lying on her side. Her cheek is hugging cold, sharp rock. Her hands are manacled behind her back and chained to the metal collar at her neck. Stoned - her head is still spinning from the drug. The Handler had used a pain stick and now her muscles won’t respond.
A jerk on the leash snaps her head back and pulls her onto her back. Brutal hands grab her hair, pulling her to her knees, forcing her to look up.
“I said, get up.” He snarls into her face, raising the pain stick again - sparking and hissing with charge – this time to her face “or I’ll have you dancing on your belly in the dirt.”
Sam can hear Janet retching in the corner; kneeling at the end of a leash held by yet another black clad Handler.
Sam’s Handler turns to the Argentian in the purple robes.
“What is their crime?” A credit chit changes hands. “No questions. I want them off the planet by afternoon.” The chit disappears, secreted in a chest pocket. “No problem. At least these two are human. The crowds like the humans.”
He jerks on the blonde’s leash again, pulling her to her feet. “You’ll learn manners soon enough, bitch.” He inspects her, shortening the leash and holding the collar - and her head - high. He squeezes one well-muscled arm and runs his hand under her shirt over her breasts. He undoes her belt and lets her pants drop -appraising the merchandise. Sam glowers, barely able to breath from the tension on the collar. Then he pulls her close, staring at her eyes, and runs his hand through her hair. “Unusual. Very fine merchandise, councillor. Both of them. I owe you my thanks.”
Sam spits in his face.
His face contorts in anger as he pulls the leash tight and pulls her to the tips of her toes. He smiles as she chokes. Then he pushes the charged pain stick to her belly. “We’ll see how well you like the Entertainment, eh bitch?”
Her throat is raw from screaming before the Handler drops her to the ground.
He eyes the brunette, now passed out in the corner. “Yes, I’ll have no trouble selling these two.”
***********
The men and women in the gate room stare incredulously at the overhead monitor.
Councillor Regis of Argenta is resplendent in his purple robes- a resplendent
pompous ass. Hammond is in full dress tirade.
“General, must I repeat myself? – Your people never arrived through the Stargate.”
“Councillor. Must I repeat myself? We need your assistance in finding Doctor Frasier and Major Carter. We again request permission to send a team to your planet to search and to investigate their disappearance. The loss of these two officers and your apparent lack of co-operation in finding them, seriously endangers our trade negotiations with your planet.” General Hammond is livid. The man is stonewalling him, but there isn’t a damn thing he can do about it for the moment.
“General. You have insulted me and you have insulted my world. You imply that we had something to do with your people going missing. I suggest that you primitives keep better control of your people – or learn how to use the stargate in such a way as to keep better track of them. Good day to you sir.” And with that, the screen blinks out.
“Unbelievable.” Daniel Jackson says, still staring at the empty monitor.
“No, Doctor. It is unacceptable.” Hammond storms. “I want you to contact the Tok’ra. Colonel, you and Teal’c are to gate to the Viking world to contact Thor.”
Jack O’Neill stands staring at the blank screen, his face deceptively calm. He doesn’t know how, but he does know that if he ever meets Regis again - he will kill that son of a bitch.
“Colonel! Now!”
Jack snaps a salute: “Yes, sir.” The General turns on his heel and heads for the red phone.
Just seeing the look in the Colonel’s eye makes Sgt. Davis feel like maybe it was all going to be OK. He sighs as he turns back to the computer. There had been no computer burps or glitches; and logs showed that they had dialled the correct address – and yet Major Carter and Doctor Frasier, had disappeared into thin air. Not for the first time, Davis was thankful for his desk job.
*********
Regis pours a glass of a very rare wine – an exotic vintage from a far-flung
planet that was made by fermenting the fruit of a now extinct tree. He collapses
into a lounger. Damn humans. Damn those two women. Invited to remain after
the negotiations to meet Argentian medical and technical staff, they had created
an intergalactic incident. The major had inadvertently stumbled on the Entertainment.
Her besotted young escort (curse you Ervin!) had let himself be talked into
taking the young woman on a tour of the city. Of course she had seen the Entertainment
broadcast – and had begun quizzing Ervin.
The young idiot had told her and the doctor everything – how criminals were sold to sponsors – purely in an effort to reduce prison costs, of course. That many of the criminals were re-trained as gladiators who provided lucrative Entertainment (highly taxed by the government) for the eight planets in the system.
And wonderful Entertainment it was. Their advanced technology (filament sensors and transmitters floating in the air, barely noticeable to the untrained eye) allowed millions to view live and up close the faces, the sweat and the blood of the gladiators as they battled each other and exotic wildlife collected from around the galaxy. Millions watched the entertainment every evening – voting from their homes on the fate of the losers. There were three choices – death, freedom (for a very few favourite and valiant fighters) or a return to the prison pens until the next fight. And the execution of the death penalties could be so amusing.
Some gladiators became stars in their own rights- household names. Such stars were the objects of insatiable and vicarious curiosity. The filament technology allowed the public to follow (unobtrusively, of course) these chosen few in every aspect of their lives, for every moment of their lives. The public salivated over their wounds, debated training techniques and nutrition regimes. The obsessed public even watched their favourites sleeping. Betting pools were very popular in every workplace. These criminals became, in truth, the property of the people.
It was all quite civilized. The prisoners were malcontents, politicals or law-breakers. They obviously did not function well in mainstream, structured society. In the prison pens they were well fed, re-trained and given an opportunity to contribute to society during their sentences. Those who worked hard and excelled at their new skill (gladiators could acquire quite a few skills over time) survived the sentence. Those who failed to learn new skills were inevitable losers in the Entertainment –and inevitably killed. They were no longer a burden to the taxpayer. There was a very low repeat offender rate. Since the Entertainment had been instituted, there were very few social agitators and far fewer crimes. Families were safely tucked away in their homes watching each new fight long before dusk. The streets were safe. Empty, but safe.
Still, Ervin had failed to communicate the sophistication and the genius of the system to the young primitive – and she and the doctor had confronted him with some very naïve egalitarian notions. Unfortunately, other Citizens had been attracted to the very public discussion and the controllers had been forced to take both Ervin and the two Earth primitives into custody. And what choice did he, as Head Councillor, have? It is his job to maintain order in the community. And the two women were very decidedly very bad influences. Ervin had been harshly chastised and assigned community service work in the prison pens. The other Citizens had been given a stern lecture on the dangers of liberalism and sent home to contemplate their folly.
It had been all too easy to mislead the human efforts to find the two women. In the meantime, they had been moved to the prison planet to start their re-education.
It was a pity about the aborted trade negotiations. Perhaps once the furor had died down, Earth would be willing to renegotiate wood (such a delightful and exotic material) and other natural resources for Argentian medicine and technology.
Still, Regis thinks as he contemplates his wine, it is a shame about the two young soldiers. He had felt compassion for the young women as he had turned them over to the Handler. They were not capable of understanding how their sacrifice was necessary for the good of the whole. He could still see the fear, the confusion and the rage on their faces as their processing at the hands of the Handler began and they were taught their new roles in the great Argentian society. Such raw, primitive emotions. He wet his lips hungrily.
He pushes a button and a holographic image leaps to life at his feet. It is time for the Entertainment. He hopes they broadcast the prisoner auctions. He wonders idly if he will see either of the female primitives on the screen any time in the near future. He sighs in anticipation as he raises the wine glass to his lips.
*********
His new stock is chained to the ceiling by the wrists. This, he has found,
is by far the best method to show off the human physique. The women stand
back to back on a podium and each wears a light chest harness- and little
else.
He has decided to sell them together as lot 14 - an exotic item for that buyer looking for a unique investment.
Poking, prodding and pinching. What Sam wouldn’t do for her P-90. The Argentians were well groomed and finely scented pigs -typically interested in the shape of her and Janet’s teeth and supposedly in the state of their health. Many were just taking the opportunity to inspect first hand such fine, and “delightfully primitive”, human specimens. They were titillated by such proximity to a baser life form. She would show them “delightfully primitive.”
A Handler climbs to the podium and unlocks her wrists, deftly manacling them behind her back. He then attaches two leads to her harness, handing one lead to another Handler. They start down either side of the runway, attempting to pull Sam along the elevated catwalk.
She resists the tug on the harness – she is damned if she’ll let them treat her like some prize racehorse - until she feels the charge of a pain stick at her heals. She moves then, walking, trotting, running, - up and down on command – all the time watching the pain stick carefully. Finally the bastard watching is satisfied that she is “sound stock.”
The two Handlers pull her back to the podium, and unlock her wrists from the manacles. This time they are a bit careless and she breaks free, decking one of the Handlers and bloodying the nose of another before another Handler takes her out with a full tackle. Sam ends up badly winded. Damn but it had felt good to fight back.
The chief Handler approaches, watching Sam being restrained
by two of his Handlers. He merely laughs and plays to the crowd: “Ah,
ladies and gentlemen, such spirit and spark in a female will surely bring
some lucky buyer not only great fame, but great winnings in the Entertainment.
To his Handlers he says: “chain her up again and this time be more careful,
dolts.” The buyer who had sparked the small revolt smiles. Yes, fine
merchandise indeed.
Two handlers manhandle Sam back to the podium. The day had been one of humiliation
pain and fear, but at least she had gotten a little of her own back. Janet
leans back to whisper “Good shot. I’ll leave the Handlers to you
though - I’m going for the “three eyes” if I get the chance.”
Sam in turn leans back and whispers: “All the Argentians have three
eyes.” Janet retorts:” yeah, and they’re a lot smaller too.”
“Quiet you two.” A Handler glares up at them, charging up his pain stick as a threat.
********
Janet and Sam are curled up together under a single blanket on the cold stone floor. Both have fallen into an exhausted sleep.
Their “Owner” stands outside the bars watching his new stock.
The auction was over. Bidding had been fierce but in the end he had triumphed. He was a man who “managed” several gladiators. His were the lucky ones. He made sure his investments were well cared for and well–trained. He took it as a personal insult when one of his gladiators lost and was executed. He tosses his cigar to the ground and eyes his new possessions speculatively. Female gladiators are rare. He will be able to start them out in easy fights where their novelty will make him money. He’ll work towards billing them in the big money fights. Yep. He had made a good purchase today. He had been determined to buy them from the moment the blonde had fought back.
He has personally overseen their transport to this cell. He doesn’t want any damage to his new property. He had also overseen the first injection of Rapture for the blonde. He had ordered that only she, as the most unmanageable, be enhanced with Rapture. It was best not to have two Enhanced fighters in the same pen – that led to too many injuries. The Handlers had held the tall one at bay while she was poked with the injection stick. It will shorten her life in the long run. But there is no long run for gladiators. She will last in fine health – and in better fighting form – as long as was useful. He smiles as he turns away. They are going to make him a rich man.
********
Each day in the prison pens starts with some food –congealed porridge
of some sort, and another injection. Then there are endless hours of “training”
before their meagre evening meal. The Handlers call the drug Rapture, and
Janet is worried about its effects. They inject Sam, not Janet. They chase
Sam around the cell a little, taunting and prodding before cornering her with
the pain stick. The cowards don’t get close enough to allow her the
chance to fight back, using a long injection stick to administer the drug.
Janet has noticed that the drug leaves Sam a bit “high”, for want
of a better word. Her pupils distend and she seems less able to focus. Janet
has always admired Sam’s incredible ability to maintain focus.
But this morning is different. They have not given Sam her injection. Nor have they brought food. Strangers – not the Handlers - had blown a fine dusting of filaments on the walls, floor and ceiling, and then left them both in the cell.
About an hour ago, four hours into the day, the nightmare had begun. Without her “fix”, Sam was agitated, walking from wall to wall and unable to settle anywhere.
“God – are they going to leave us here all day with no food or water?” Sam is shouting now, her eyes a bit wild. There is real fear in her voice. She is sweating and holding her arms crossed over her chest as she paces the small cell.
Janet reaches out to her: “Sam, Honey. Come and sit down. “
Sam jerks away and backs towards the wall: “Leave me alone. Just leave me alone.” She grabs her head: “God. I have such a headache. Argh”. She wheels and hits the wall in frustration. And hits it again. Her eyes close and she leans her forehead against the wall as she pounds her fist repeatedly into the wall.
Janet tries again: “Sam. You’re in withdrawal. Whatever this “Rapture” is – they have you addicted. Sit down here and let me help you.”
But Sam isn’t listening. She pulls away and continues pounding at the wall. She is punctuating each blow with a guttural moan that raises the hairs on Janet’s neck. Janet moves closer and gently grabs Sam’s hand. Sam doesn’t resist this time, letting the doctor pull her close.
Eventually Janet has them both sitting on the ground. Sam is shivering violently now, still moaning and sweating so much that she has soaked the flimsy tunic she is wearing.
Janet cradles her friend, crooning softly: “It’s OK. I’m here. It’s going to be OK.” But Janet is truly worried as she tests Sam’s pulse and feels her forehead.
Sam is barely conscious, curled on her side and shuddering through waves of pain. Janet has been repeatedly calling for help for the last six hours. At last the chief Handler appears at the door. He sees Sam shivering on the floor and he smiles as he unlocks the cell door. A second Handler moves in and pushes Janet to the back of the cell, herding her to the corner with a pain stick.
The Handler crouches beside Sam and stares down at her: “Well bitch – are you going to spit in my face now?” He gets no response. With a smile he grabs Sam by her hair and pulls her head around until he can see her dull blue eyes. Janet cries out: “Don’t hurt her you bastard”. The second Handler threatens the doctor with the pain stick.
The Handler pulls Sam’s head up by the hair and shows her the syringe: “I own you.” He plunges the needle into her arm and then drops her head back to the ground. He turns to Janet. “Now.” He looks down at Sam: “She is going nowhere-” He raises the syringe and smiles softly “at least, not without this.”
He turns again to Sam, holding the syringe to her face. “Understand?” Sam stares up at him and then closes her eyes as she says: “Yes”. He stands and moves to the door as the other Handler unlocks it. “Make sure you don’t forget.”
Janet rushes over to Sam. Her fingers fly to Sam’s wrist and forehead: her pulse is still too fast and she has a fever but at least she is breathing normally again. Janet pulls the single blanket around both of them. She rests her head against Sam’s.
“We’ve got to get out of here Jan.” Sam whispers.
Janet pulls the blanket closer around them both. “I know.”
“I don’t know how to get us out. We don’t even know if there is a stargate.” Sam grits her teeth to control the trembling.
“They’ll find us, Sam.”
“Yeah.”
Several minutes go by. “Know what I miss most?”
Sam tilts her head back to show she is listening.
“Chocolate chip and pecan cookies.”
After a pause Sam replies, her voice still unsteady: “hot showers and a real bed.”
Janet whispers “Oh, - and coffee.”
The tremors are gone as Sam replies: “warm sun and green grass”.
***********
The klaxons sound and the iris opens. Jacob Carter walks down the gangway
to meet his old team mate. “I’ve found them George.” He
raises his hand for silence as Jack and Daniel come rushing into the room.
He turns to Hammond. “Can we take this to your office?”
**********
Janet twirls, holding her cape out -“Whoa – MGM must have had
a garage sale”. Sam doesn’t answer. She is inspecting her gear
– determining just how much real protection it affords. The cape is
obviously meant for effect. The shin guards and the wrist guards are fine
– the armour, well the armour is definitely sparse, but strategically
placed and strong enough. The boots are flexible and fit well. Her inspection
complete, Sam turns to the doctor and grins: “Hey, Xena!”
Janet snorts and says: “I rather think you fit the role better, my dear.” Sam shakes her head: “But I distinctly remember Xena being the brunette, am I right?” Janet throws a mock glare her way. “No short jokes.”
“Seriously, Sam – how much trouble are we in?” Sam puffs her cheeks and then lets out a large breathe. “Real swords, real bad guys, and a blood-thirsty crowd? Piece of cake.” She is grinning.
Suddenly serious, Sam regards her friend. “Janet, just remember what we’ve practiced. We stay back to back. We let them come to us and we don’t get drawn out and isolated from each other. Remember - use the sword defensively. I’ve got the longer reach – leave most of the offence to me – but don’t let an opportunity go by to draw blood. And don’t panic if you get hurt, just stay with me and keep your guard up”.
Janet is toying with the end of her cape. She nods: “Right, piece of cake.”
****************
“We have an operative on the planet. He can get them out of the prison.
But they will have to fight their own way to the gate of the prison. It would
help if there is someone there to help them when they break out.” Jacob
looks expectantly at the members of SG-1.
“You got it Jacob”. Jack is relieved to be finally doing something to bring Sam and Janet back.
*************
Janet jumps high and to the side, narrowly avoiding the slashing blade. The creature lunges again, teeth snapping and sword flashing in the air. The crowd roars in appreciation.
“Come on you overgrown warthog!” Sam shouts as she lunges quickly forward. Her opponent – another pig man - dives. His huge head swings to one side as he comes abreast of her. But instead of striking out with his sword, he sinks a tusk into her thigh. Sam hasn’t moved aside to avoid his charge: she has chosen to take the offensive. She ignores the pain as he rips her leg open, and grasps her sword in both hands. She plunges the well-honed blade deep into the creature’s thick neck – at the juncture of spine and skull. The porker rears back in pain, shaking his head in rage, trying desperately to dislodge his assailant. His clawed hands rake at the sword, trying to snag Sam and hurl her from his neck. His tusk rips free, leaving a gaping rent in her Sam’s leg. She falls forward and lands atop the giant pig man. She tightens her grip on the sword and twists it as the creature falls face forward into the dust. Sam rolls free from the dying beast and rises to one knee.
The crowd responds with a frenzied roar: Argentians screaming for more blood, and more action.
Janet is holding her opponent at bay. The remaining pig man is warily circling and looking for an opening through her defences. He is incensed at the loss of his partner and anxious to dispose of this smaller opponent before he finishes off the other wounded woman.
Sam rises and staggers forward, bellowing: “Hey ugly – welcome to the barbeque.” She hurls her cape over the beast’s head, leaping to it’s back. Simultaneously, Janet lunges and plunges her sword deep in the creature’s belly between the armour plates. The pig man rears and whirls in rage, narrowly missing Janet’s head with his massive clawed hands. He is blinded by the cape and skewered by Janet’s sword. Sam is hurled to the ground as the cape tears free. The maddened beast turns on his fallen tormenter, intent on ripping her apart with his tusks and trampling her into the ground. But Janet screams, and picking up the creature’s own discarded sword, slices his arm off at the elbow before he reaches Sam. Covered in blood the creature turns from Sam to pursue Janet who dances easily out of reach. The beast gulps and grabs the sword still stuck in his belly. He staggers forward and onto his knees, finally succumbing to a massive loss of blood.
Horns sound and Handlers rush from the gates.
Janet rushes to help Sam, who is struggling to her feet. Handlers drag and herd the two pig men to the centre of the ring to await judgement. The two beasts stand on a podium in the glaring lights of the indoor stadium, manacled and held by the Handlers.
Argentian technology is superb: votes are tabulated from all eight planets in only ten minutes. The verdict: death. The beasts are dragged from the podium to the frenzied cheers of the crowd. Then there is silence as the crowd wait in anticipation. The head Handler raises his hand.
Filaments glint in the air transmitting the spectacle (as they had the fight) in holographic brilliance to millions of homes. The Handler drops his hand and two swords slash through two necks. Millions gasp in awe at the close up shots of the last expressions on the pig faces; at the gout of blood pouring from the necks; at the slow toppling of the bodies; and at the summary disposal of the bodies onto a hot burning pyre.
The Handlers, armed with pain sticks, close in on Janet and Sam, escorting them to the centre of the ring. Garlands are placed over their heads and their hands are held high in victory. They provide quite the spectacle: two female humans covered in blood and sweat, victors over the formidable pig men. They are paraded once around the arena to the cheers of the crowd. The close up holographs of the fight will sell well in the next few days.
But the crowd is restless again, anxious for the next fight,
for the next drama. Sam and Janet are herded back to their cell as the arena
is readied for the next fight. The Entertainment continues.
********
The Owner stands inside the cell watching as the healer binds Sam’s leg. He notes idly that her partner is questioning the healer about his treatment of the blonde. The two humans have earned him a considerable sum today. He needs to keep them in the public eye to maintain interest. He will arrange more fights as soon as possible.
He’ll keep them together for a while longer. They fought well as a team. He might lose one in a fight sooner than necessary if he splits them up.
He’ll make sure the holovid highlights a close up of the ripped thigh, and of the brunette rushing to support the blonde. Yep. These two are going to make him a fortune.
He turns to the Handler standing at his side: “How long
until she can fight again?” “ She’ll be back at light practice
in three days. Fighting in two or three weeks.”
“See that she doesn’t lose her edge. I want her back on her feet
as soon as possible.”
********
Ervin is Regis’ nephew. This puts him in an awkward position. For one thing, he is indeed a bit besotted with Sam. His Uncle finds it a bit embarrassing that a member of a superior species (and of his family!) is infatuated with a primitive. For another, he is a Tok’ra operative. As Regis’ nephew he is in a perfect position to pass on valuable information about the eight planets to the Tok’ra. As Regis’ wayward nephew assigned to community service in the prison pens, he is the perfect Tok’ra operative to break Sam and her friend from the prison pens.
Creeping about in the prison pens at night is not a safe thing to do, but getting in had been easy- even exhilarating. This prison was built to keep people in - no one wanted to break into a place like this. The trick is going to be getting out with two inmates. But Ervin knows what he is doing. It has taken Ervin only a week from the time Jacob contacted him to locate the two women and to formulate a plan.
Argentians rely on the sophistication of their technology and believe implicitly that their technology makes them superior to other races. But few Argentians understand, let alone know how to repair or manipulate their own technology. Most live like parasites, consuming far more than they produce. They are, in fact, a soft race, and a soft, decadent society. But Ervin is different, partly due to his symbiote, and partly due to his own restless intellect.
The prison pens are not secured by guards but by electronic surveillance and electronic locks -not so much locks as an electronic presence throughout the whole complex. And the system never breaks down. There are, as a result, no repairmen (government cutbacks had eliminated such useless civil servants years ago). And there are very few guards.
Ervin makes his way through the cell pens, looking neither right nor left, walking on as if he owns the place until he reaches the correct cell.
He kneels at the cell door, listening for pursuit before whispering: “Major Carter?” There is no response, but with his excellent night vision (the Argentian third eye is infra red receptive) he can see two figures crouched in the cell.
“Major Carter? Doctor Frasier?”
“Ervin?” Sam scrambles quickly to the cell door. Janet is close behind.
“Listen- and take these.” He hands over two zat guns, keeping a third for himself. Sam gasps with joy – she knows what do with this. Days of imprisonment have given her ample time to analyse the electronics of their prison. But she has not had the means to affect sabotage, nor a plan to get them off the planet once they get past the gates. Now they have a fighting chance.
“Major Carter, using the zats on this door will sabotage the locks – but only on this door. I can disarm the alarm. The rest of the prison will not be affected by the disabling of this cell. We’ll zat the main doors when we get there. Once we start we will have to run – the receptor fibres do not function well at night, but they do detect movement. We may have to fight our way out.”
“My pleasure” Janet murmured. She wouldn’t mind zatting a few Handlers – or even a few Argentian bastards.
Ervin continues: “I will have to leave you once we reach the gates. SG-1 should meet you somewhere between here and the gate. The stargate is a kilometre away. Run uphill – it is at the top of a steep hill. Now give me a moment to disable the alarm”
While Ervin is gone, the two women secure their gear and ready themselves for flight – and for battle.
Ervin returns, nodding as he whispers: “The alarm is disabled.”
Both women pull their capes closer. Janet puts a hand on her friend’s shoulder in readiness. Ervin stands back as Sam zats the door.
********
The Stargate whooshes – an aqua blue tide of energy against a deep moonless
sky.
Jack is first down the ramp, the spotting beam from his P-90 sweeping a wide arc around the steps and the slope below. Teal’c and Daniel Jackson follow, fanning out and melting like shadows in the night.
*****
Janet rounds a corner and drops to one knee, firing her zat and downing the
chief Handler. Sam dodges past her and picks up the pain stick. Sam is heady
with adrenaline – and with Rapture. She barely feels her injured leg.
Instead of zatting the man twice, she fires up the pain stick, lowering it
to the Handler’s head.
Janet races up and places a hand on Sam’s shoulder: “Sam, there’s no time for this. Come on!” Even in the deep shadows of the hall, Janet can see the hate on Sam’s face. “Sam, it’s the drug talking, let’s go.” Sam tears her eyes away from the Handler and regards Janet for a long moment before dropping the pain stick and turning on her heel. Janet lets out a large breathe and follows her friend down the hall towards the main doors. Ervin brings up the rear, keeping a look out for pursuing guards or Handlers.
They reach the final turn before the big exit doors. This has been too easy. Sam knows it’s a trap. She holds up her hand, signalling for the other two to take defensive positions as she edges her way around this last corner. Janet crouches at her feet, ready to fire low, covering Sam as the taller woman draws fire. Ervin plasters himself against the wall opposite Janet, ready give support fire.
Sam swings around the corner and starts firing her zat. She meets fire from a group of guards and Handlers arrayed before the gates. She dives to the ground, firing as she rolls, downing three. Janet shoots another two. Ervin’s aim is poor, but he is gamely firing away. They are out numbered and Sam is pinned down. She is on one knee at the far wall, maintaining a blistering fire barrage that discourages the guards from exposing themselves to an assault. But there is no way they can make it past the doors. The guards are not using lethal weapons, but Sam would rather die than be captured again.
Janet hears him behind her before she sees him. She whirls, zat at the ready to meet the chief Handler. The zat blast has worn off and he has crept down the hall to take her hostage with the pain stick. In his arrogance, he has not even considered using a gun. They are, after all, nothing more than damn slaves. But now Janet has her zat raised to his forehead before he can reconsider and draw his weapon.
“Two shots kills you know.” He slowly raises his hands and Ervin clamps the manacles from the Handler’s own belt on his wrists.
Sam is still firing desperately. She is in trouble now. The guards are out-flanking her and advancing on her position – and her back up seems to have disappeared. What she would do for her P-90. She is anticipating retreating to find out what has happened to Janet (as suicidal as that would be) when Janet’s voice rings out “Hold up or he dies – two shots kills.”
Sam steals a quick glance over her shoulder to see Janet prodding the chief Handler along. Ervin is nowhere to be seen. Janet pushes the Handler along until they reach Sam. Sam pokes her zat in the Handler’s belly and snarls: “Just give me an excuse, stick boy.”
The guards and Handlers stand up in confusion. Janet pokes the chief handler in the side, speaking softly in his ear: “Tell them to drop their arms or we will kill you.” She adds conversationally “and we will.”
“Drop your arms. Let the bitches by.”
“Stand over there, leave the guns” Sam waves her zat at the guards and Handlers, motioning for them to stand facing the wall. She moves among those who have been zatted, kicking guns to the other side of the room and tucking a couple of the alien weapons in the belt of her leather shorts. She looks briefly for Ervin, but he is gone. He has done what he had promised: gotten them to the gate and then left. He has done his part.
Sam and Janet edge past the guards, using the Handler as a shield. Sam zats the huge doors and they swing slowly open, and the two women run, pulling their hostage with them into the night.
***********
Thump. The Handler falls heavily to the ground.
Sam has taken savage delight in boshing the back of the Handler’s head. He was slowing them down and they are leaving him behind. Sam fights the impulse to zat the man to death but Janet’s hand on her arm stills her. Sam lowers her head and tries to get control – she knows the drug is keeping her going, but it is also making her aggressive and vengeful. She has no time to reflect, however: she can hear the guards in pursuit.
“Come on Sam – We’ve got to go!” Janet pulls at her arm.
The bastards have pig men with them. The beasts are fast and able to run any quarry to ground by smell. The pigs make no attempt to be quiet as they crash through the bush. They rely partly in terrorizing their prey into making foolish mistakes.
Janet and Sam tear desperately through the night. SG-1 is waiting for them out there. A kilometre to go and they will be home.
The trees grew sparser near the top of the hill where the stargate is located. They will be without cover and exposed against the sky as they make a final dash for the gate. Sam knows all this but keeps running, zigging and zagging up the hill, not only to make climbing easier, but also to scatter any shooting by their pursuers. They have to buy time until the Colonel finds them. Janet is in the lead but she can hear Sam running right behind. Blood stains the bandage on Sam’s thigh. The wound has re-opened. They have only a few hundred metres to go but it might as well be another kilometre because they can hear the pigs grunting.
Sam grabs Janet and pulls her into the cover of the final few trees on the slope. They are going to have to make a stand here or the pigs were going to chase them down and pull them apart. She would rather die fighting. Sam pulls out her gun and crouches alongside Janet behind the cover of a fallen log. Sam hands one of the alien guns to Janet: “Just in case you need something extra”.
Both women wait for their pursuers to appear over the ridge below. There is potential for a rear attack from the trees behind their hiding place, but they have no choice. This is where they will have to wait for SG-1 – or make their last stand.
Sam whirls at the sound of a twig breaking, biting back a yelp as she twists her wounded thigh.
“Need a hand Ladies?” Even in the dark Sam can see Jack O’Neill’s grin. Daniel Jackson has crept up to join them. “Nice outfits.”
Teal’c is firing from the direction of the stargate as the first guards and pig men pop over the ridge below. There are more coming from the far slope, trying to cut them off from the gate. Teal’c’s cover fire keeps the escape route open.
“Go!” Jack orders the two women to the gate as he and Daniel provide cover for their retreat. Janet and Sam stop in the last of the trees before the gate and in turn provide cover as Jack and Daniel made a dash up the final few metres. Teal’c keeps firing as Janet makes it to the DHD, Sam close on her heels. Sam dials the co-ordinates and Daniel makes it in time to punch in SG-1’s dial – in code. The wormhole opens and Janet and Sam tumble through, on their way home.
***********
Several mouths drop open as Janet and then Sam burst through the event horizon
dressed in what could only be described as well…. brief- very brief-
leather Xena outfits. With capes. Daniel, then Teal’c and finally Jack
barrel through. Jack is still firing through the wormhole as the iris closes.
The control room and the gate room erupt in cheering. General Hammond walks up the ramp to greet his rescued officers. “Welcome home Major, Doctor.” “Thank you sir” Sam fires off a smart salute, but Janet walks up to the old soldier and gives him a peck on the cheek. Sam grins. General Hammond smiles benevolently, saying: “Good to have you home.”
“I’d say that was mission complete, General.” Jack O’Neill pipes up. Teal’c nods “Indeed.”
Daniel Jackson is happily hugging Sam and then Janet, not bothering to keep the tears from rolling down his cheeks.
*************
“Dr. Andrews I did hear you. But you are not listening to me.”
Andrews sighs. His boss is back.
“Dr. Frasier. I am putting you on down time for a week. We can deal with Major Carter”
“I understand that, Dr. Andrews, but Major Carter is my patient and I intend to see her through withdrawal. Her unique physiology and psychology require that her own physician attend her. Now you can either follow my orders or I will take it up with the General.”
“Doc’s right, Andrews. We’ll take care of her.” O’Neill had been leaning against the door listening, but now he joins the conversation. “We’ll make sure Doc Frasier doesn’t overdo it.” He walks up to the bed and places a hand on Andrews shoulder, looking him in the eye, but turning his head to Janet for a reply:” Won’t we Doc?” Janet nods. “Thank you Colonel.”
Andrews knows when to give up. “Fine, Colonel.” He turns to Janet “But you need to take the time to adjust, Doctor. You have been traumatized as well.” With that he leaves the room.
Jack sits on the bed beside her. “You OK Doc?” Janet looks over at O’Neill and nods.
“I’m worried about Sam.” She pauses, choosing her words carefully.
“That Rapture stuff?” Jack hazards a guess.
Janet nods. “Yes. Colonel, she went through hell after missing a fix after only four days. It’s been two weeks now. I can see the effects it has on her on a daily basis. Heightened aggression, anxiety and hyperactivity. “
Jack nods. “We’ll see her through this, Doc.”
Janet shakes her head “It may not be that easy. Due to the protein marker in her blood and the naquadah in her system, I am limited to only one sedative that I can use on her. She may have to go through this cold turkey and it will be hell, Colonel. Her heart may not take it.”
“We’ll be there. For both of you. Why don’t you get cleaned up and change. I’ll make sure they follow your orders.”
“An isolation room with no observation windows. And only I have access to the security tapes.” Janet rubs her forehead “We spent the last two weeks under constant…scrutiny, Colonel. She deserves some privacy through this.”
“Consider it done Doc.”
*********
The restraints dug into her wrists and ankles – she screams in protest
and throws herself against the leather. “No, No!” Sam swings her
head wildly, still restrained by the collar around her neck. Her eyes are
wide but she sees nothing. She had escaped – hadn’t she? She strains
to pull the wires and the needles out – “No – leave me alone!”
She is shouting: “Conrad – you have no right, no right to do this!”
“Sam, Sam, you’re safe – Sam, Honey, you’re home!” Janet leans over her friend, pushing back sweat soaked hair from her forehead. Janet glances again at the monitor. Sam has a temperature, her heart is racing and the drug is still rampaging through her system.
It has been four days and Sam has drifted from delirium to rage and through delirium again. Janet is afraid that Sam’s body is going to give out. The sedative exacerbated the situation, reacting with the remaining drug in Sam’s system to drive her into a frenzied rage. Sam had become so uncontrollable on that first day that Teal’c had been forced to zat her and Janet had put her in restraints.
The door closes softly as Jack enters the room. He doesn’t speak. He can see that nothing has changed over the past four hours. He draws up a chair and sits by the bed.
Sam tenses and her body grows rigid: “Let me go!” Her body is so rigid that Janet is sure she is going to pull every muscle in her body. Sam’s face is contorted in rage as she roars: Tau’ri! Release me now!”
Janet turns to Jack and shakes her head, looking hopelessly back at Sam. “It’s like the drug has ripped through all her control mechanisms and restraints, destroying her brain chemistry. Sam’s brain synapses seem to be firing randomly. Memories of Jolinar, and of her mind stamp, and her own memories are streaming through her conscious unchecked. I’m afraid for her sanity, Jack. She needs rest from this.”
“Sir?” Sam has relaxed somewhat, but she is turning her head, as if casting about to catch sight of someone. “Sir are you there?”
Jack moves close to the bed and takes her hand. “I’m here Carter, I’m here.”
But Sam doesn’t acknowledge the contact or the voice: “Sir, I can’t leave you here.”
Suddenly she tenses again and starts yelling in what could only be Goa’uld. She is thrashing around again, pulling at the restraints, leaving her wrists raw and bleeding.
Jack lowers his head. She has been like this for too long. He takes Janet’s hand and says: “Let me try something here. She’s in there. Let me try to bring her back.” Janet turns again to look at her friend and at the monitor. Janet is exhausted and she can no longer stand to watch Sam in such great pain. She looks at the colonel and nods consent.
Jack sits beside the bed and takes Sam’s hand again. Her eyes are roving the room, her head moving restlessly from side to side. “Carter? Sam?” There is no response. Jack sighs and lowers his head. Then he slowly stands and looks down at her. He barks: ”Major Carter! Tenshun!” No response. “Major! I should report you for insubordination, for sleeping on duty! Should have god-damned known better than to have let a woman on the team!”
Sam is breathing faster, thrashing on the bed. “Well, Major? Anything to say for yourself before I drag your sorry ass up for disciplinary action?”
She roars then. Her face is contorted in rage: “You bastard! Who the **** do you think you are! Yes Sir! No Sir! Go ahead and lick my ass Sir!”
Well, it was Carter. A stoned and seriously ripped Carter, but at least she was still in there.
The monitor starts going crazy and Sam’s heart rate starts climbing. She is frothing at the mouth and bellowing, only the occasional curse making any sense. Janet stands by, uncharacteristically stymied, unable to help.
Jack pulls his fist back calmly and hits Sam between the eyes. Sam immediately slumps back on the bed. The beeps from the monitor begin to slow down almost at once.
O’Neill turns to find Janet staring at him in disbelief. “I had to help her Janet. I knew what I was doing when I hit her.” He nods at the monitor. ”Is she OK?”
Janet doesn’t respond immediately. She studies the monitor. She finally turns to look at him.
Janet is seriously pissed off at him. But she is also relieved.
“Don’t you ever do that again. Do you hear me?” Jack nods contritely. She continues: “However, it does seem to have done the trick. She is unconscious for now. Hopefully she will drift into sleep.”
Janet slumps into the chair. Things are seriously out of control and she is way too exhausted to pick up the pieces.
“Why don’t you go home for awhile Doc? I’ll watch Sam. Daniel can take over tonight. Go get some sleep. Go talk to Cassie.”
Janet covers her eyes to hide the tears. She takes a deep breath and looks at him again. “Fine, but no more hitting my patients. I’ll tell Andrews I’m leaving.” With that she wheels out of the room.
**********
Daniel Jackson paces, talking out loud, directing his soliloquy to his sleeping
teammate. It is 5 in the morning and he really is on a roll. He is running
on coffee and fuelled purely by inspiration.
“So, you see Sam, the Argentians may be a perfect example of culture influencing evolution to a greater extent than so-called natural selection. A whole society hooked on violence, but with a technology so advanced that their bodies have almost atrophied – making them incapable of waging war themselves – “
“Maybe they’re just chicken shits.”
“Fear? I don’t know Sam. That may be true proximally, but I am talking ultimate causation here – “ He wheels around and rushes to the bed.
“Sam?”
She gives him a bleary smile and says hoarsely: “Do I smell coffee?”
“Uh, Yeah. How are you feeling? Ah. Stupid question I guess.”
“Tired. Sore.”
“I’ll get Dr. Andrews.”
Sam looks worried as she looks around: “Janet?”
“She’s OK Sam. She’s been here almost the entire time. She’s at home sleeping.”
“Don’t get Andrews yet.”
“OK”
“Stay with me a while?”
Daniel sits down on the chair. “Sure Sam.” He takes her hand because she looks a little scared.
Eventually her eyes drift shut again: “Tell me your theory about the three-eyes.”
“Huh?”
Sam smiles sleepily:”The Argentians.”
“Oh. Sure. Well….”
*************
“Hey sleepy head how are you?” Janet smiles down at Sam.
“Home. I’m home.”
“Yeah you are.”
“Janet?” Sam pleads: “Can we lose the restraints?”
Janet pulls up a chair and sits beside Sam. “Sam, you’ve only been lucid for a few hours. There is still quite a large amount of the drug in your system. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” Janet doesn’t mention the very real possibility of a relapse. There is no need to frighten Sam, but Sam needs to rest. Her body chemistry needs time go back to normal. More stress could cause permanent damage.
Tears well up in Sam’s eyes and she squeezes them shut, turning her head away in a vain attempt to hide the tears from Janet. “I don’t want the restraints. I don’t want the diapers. I want to have a shower, brush my teeth, and use the damned toilet.”
Janet has no immediate response. Over the past two weeks she has shared everything with Sam. Janet has seen her humiliation, pain and rage - but never the naked vulnerability that Sam is showing now. The plea cuts straight to Janet’s heart. But Janet is a doctor and she will not risk losing Sam now. They have come too far together to lose now.
Her voice takes on the tone she once used with a small and frightened Cassie. “Sam. I’ll make you a deal.” Sam doesn’t respond, so Janet gently guides her head back so that they are face to face. “Sam, if you promise me to sleep as much as you can today, I’ll come in at 5PM and check on you. If your levels haven’t changed or have improved, we’ll remove the restraints. Deal?”
Sam finally responds to the tone in Janet’s voice and nods. She sniffles and turns her head away again. Janet walks to the sink and brings back a warm wet cloth. She carefully washes Sam’s face and then leans over to give her a soft kiss on the forehead. “Sleep tight Sam.”
**************
“Hey. I thought you were going to sleep all day.” Jack O’Neill
grins as he leans over and ruffles her hair. She hates that. And he knows
it.
“Sir.” She says grumpily as she pulls her head away. He doesn’t lose the grin, however, and she finally smiles back.
“What time is it?”
“7PM, Carter.”
“How long have we been back?”
“Six days.”
“Wow.”
“Yeah.”
They sit a while in silence.
Sam is studying the monitor at her side as Janet breezes in. “Hi Sam.”
“Hi Janet.” Barely missing a beat: “Well?”
Janet is studying the monitor and looking at her chart. “Hmmm?”
“Janet!”
Janet smiles and moves to the bed. “Let’s pull these straps off, shall we?”
“Way to go, Carter!” Jack moves to help, but Janet says as she continues to unbuckle straps: “Colonel, could give us about an hour and then come back with some BDU’s for Sam? I think we can lose the hospital gown too.”
“Sure. I’ll just leave you two ladies to….well…. do whatever…” He waves at Sam and Janet and leaves. He is whistling “Happy Days are Here Again.”
“Take it easy, Sam.” Janet says as she adjusts the bed and helps Sam to sit back against the pillows. “You’ve been lying there for almost six days, you know. Just sit there for a moment while I put a chair in the shower for you. Then I’ll come back to get you.”
Sam doesn’t argue. She leans back on the pillows and relishes the moment. No restraints, no chains and no collars. She really is home.
*********
Jack had returned with the BDU’s on schedule, and was now watching Carter
eat her first solid (well almost solid) meal in days. She is propped up on
the pillows and he is sitting on a chair pulled up to the bed.
Sam smiles at him as he pushes the Jello at her. “Blue you know.”
“Sir…” as she toys with the Jello.
“Carter.”
Sam puts down her spoon and looks at him uncomfortably. “Sir…thank you for coming for Janet and me.”
“All in the job description Carter.”
Another pause. She has more to say. “Sir…I apologise for some of the” she scrunches her face a little “inappropriate things I said, or names I may have called you.” She looks at him warily. She still isn’t comfortable with her behaviour towards her teammates while she was raging under the influence of the drug.
“Look Carter, you were out of it. It’s O.K.”
“Thank you sir.” But she still looks uncomfortable.
“Besides I may have deserved some of that.”
“Sir?”
“I knocked you cold with one punch.”
“Ah…. Right. It’s O.K. Sir. It all worked out.”
She smiles as she says “But I’d appreciate more warning next time.”
They sit in companionable silence as she eats her Jello.
“You impressed the hell out of Daniel.”
She throws him a puzzled look: “Oh?”
“Oh Yeah. You called him an excrement smeared piece of papyrus – in Goa’uld.”
Sam almost chokes on her Jello.
“Take it easy there Carter, the Doc will kill me if I let you choke to death.”
**********
Sam turns, her eyes drinking in the view. No telephone poles or wires. No
roads. No houses as far as the eye can see. She closes her eyes and listens.
She hears the ravens calling and a soft warm autumn breeze brushing past dried
leaves. She opens her eyes again to take in the subtle colours of this harsh
land –reds, yellows, blue heathers and lichens and soft green-blue spruce
needles – all a patchwork that stretches unbroken to a soft blue sky.
Here, beyond security cameras, beyond receptor fibres, and even beyond the eyes of friends she seeks resolution.
She closes her eyes again. Then she hears it- the lone thin wail of a Timber Wolf. Sam smiles. She smiles because it is Sam Carter that thrills to that raw wild voice - not Jolinar, not some mind stamp or drug-induced hysteria. Just Sam Carter.
Sam sits down, hugging her knees to her chin, pressing her back against a warm rock. She continues to watch and listen as a gentle sun warms her face.
Two hours later Sam makes her way back down to meet up with
Janet and Cassie at the campsite. The three of them are canoeing and camping
in the soft Yukon autumn. They’re finally taking that road trip. Life
is good.
The End