It was a day that SG-1 would remember for a long time, and for all the wrong reasons. They stepped from the event horizon and into the middle of a battle. As Jack was the first one out of the ‘Gate, he was the first to be seen. In less than a second, he had spun around and ordered Carter to dial out. He fired a round at the struggling men around him, all armed to the teeth with swords and pikes.
"Hurry it up, Major!" He barked, the men closing in on him despite the hail of bullets. Sam whipped her sleeve up, frantically entering the iris code.
"All done, sir!" She turned to shoot at a soldier who was getting too close. Jack yelled above the noise oft he fight.
"OK, let’s pack it up. Daniel and Carter first, we’ll cover you!" Daniel dived back through the now open ‘Gate, followed an instant later by Sam. Teal’c and O’Neill backed towards the wormhole, trying to hold the soldiers back. Teal’c fired one more blast from his staff weapon as he disappeared into the shimmering event horizon. Jack turned and was about to follow, when he was knocked from his feet as an agonising pain shot through his shoulder.
Twisting his head, he saw the shaft of an arrow protruding from his shoulder blade, the head just punching through the material of his BDU’s. Dragging himself upright, he took a wobbly step towards the ‘Gate, falling face first onto the dais as the flat of a sword caught the back of his head. His vision jerked sharply and receded down a dark tunnel as unconsciousness claimed him, and he knew no more.
*****
Sam paced at the base of the ramp, her eyes scanning the ‘Gate. She started to relax as Teal’c stepped backwards out of the wormhole, his staff weapon still raised. Expecting the next figure to come through to be Jack, she took a step up the ramp.
She was caught totally off guard as a soldier clad in chain mail burst forth from the Stargate, his sword raised in a killing stroke. His war cry was drawn out into a final rattling breath as he was knocked back by a blast from Teal’c. His lips moved silently, mouthing unheard words as the Stargate disengaged and the iris slid shut, a medical team rushing into the embarkation room to check the rest of the team out.
Sam sat up on a bed in the infirmary, her arms crossed. Janet sighed as she made a note in her folder.
"Sam," She said. "Physically, there’s nothing wrong with you, aside from the adrenaline high you’re coming down off. You have a scrape or two from coming out of the ‘Gate a bit fast, but that is all." She pulled out a penlight and flipped it on, shining it into each of Carter’s eyes. Sam jerked away abruptly, blinking rapidly.
"Photo-sensitive?" Sam rubbed her eyes for a moment, facing away from the Doctor for a split second.
"No. Why?" Janet frowned slightly, sensing something deeper wrong.
"No reason..." She looked harder at Sam’s eyes, noting the faint red rim to them, and a slight moisture build up. "Sam," Janet said softly, checking to make sure the others were out of earshot. "You want to tell me what’s wrong?" She already had a fair idea, but she wanted to confirm her theory.
Sam took a shuddering breath trying to calm herself, and failing. She wrapped her arms around the Doctor, tears running down her face. Janet patted Sam’s back, making soothing noises as Sam said,
"Where is he, Janet?" Janet didn’t need any explanation to see who the Major was talking about, hell, you’d have to be blind and deaf not to see it. "He’s out there, millions of light years away, and we left him behind!"
Janet took Sam’s anguished face in her hands and looked her in the eyes. "You didn’t leave him, Sam. He covered your retreat, just like he has done a hundred times before, and you have done the same. It wasn’t your fault, Sam. I don’t blame you, and I know for sure that Jack wouldn’t either, so don’t go feeling all guilty for something that was out of your control." Sam swallowed and wiped her eyes.
"I know that in my head, Janet," She said. Dropping her voice, she went on. "But that’s not the part of me that’s not listening. That part is saying ‘you left him back there to die, you left him’."
Janet sighed, her suspicions confirmed. "And arguing with your heart isn’t very effective, Sam, we both know that." Janet pulled a tissue out of her sleeve and handed it to Sam. "Wipe your eyes, and take a minute to fix yourself up. The General wants to debrief as soon as possible." A flash of her humour returned as she said "And you wouldn’t want him to see you with puffy red eyes and a sniffly nose, now would you?" Her teasing comment got the desired chuckle as Carter stood up and went into the washroom. Janet smiled slightly now that Sam was a little better, moving over to her most common patient to check him for scrapes.
*****
Sam walked into the briefing room and took her seat, the others not far behind. Hammond straightened in his chair.
"OK, people, what happened out there?" He glanced from face to face. Sam swallowed, speaking first.
"The MALP showed a grassy plain, with some woodland in the distance, and a village a few clicks away from the Gate, sir. Things were slightly different when we got there. There was a full scale battle going on, and we stepped out right into the middle of it." She paused, thinking. "The Colonel told me to dial out as soon as he could. I got the Gate open, and transmitted the GDO. He told Daniel and I to go, he and Teal’c lay down cover fire. We came back through, and waited." Sam turned to look at the Jaffa seated next to her, raising her eyebrow. Teal’c continued where she had left off.
"Colonel O’Neill and I retreated towards the Stargate, firing as we went. I reached the wormhole first and held the attackers off as O’Neill made his way. When he was no more than a few meters from me, he told me to go through. I fired one more blast, and went into the wormhole. Anything more than that, I do not know." General Hammond raised his voice to the Airman on duty at the door.
"I want SG units 2 and 3 in the Gate room in ten minutes. I want a MALP sent back first before I’ll authorise the rescue mission." The Airman left the room at a run. "And now we wait..."
*****
The Stargate engaged with it’s usual spectacular display, and the remainder of SG-1 watched anxiously as the MALP made it’s way into the wormhole. The screens above them flickered as the images came to life. Lt. Simmons looked at the General and said, "We have audio and visual, sir." Hammond nodded as he watched the screen. There were bodies everywhere, and the pall of smoke hung thick in the air.
Simmons adjusted the MALP’s controls, panning around the base of the Stargate. The only thing in the entire scene to move was the smoke, drifting around the corpse like a lost shade itself. The Lieutenant swallowed, his face white.
"No signs of life, sir. Should we send the teams in?" He waited as Hammond considered it for a brief moment, before he reached down and pressed the button on the microphone.
"SG teams two and three, you have a go." He turned to face Carter as the teams went through the Gate at a jog. "Ferretti and Makepeace are good men, Major," He said, trying to reassure Sam. "If the Colonel’s there, they’ll find him."
The minutes dragged by slowly, and Sam began to pace agitatedly as time went by. Everyone’s heads jerked up at the sound of the gate beginning to engage. The iris slid closed as Simmons checked the computer screen in front of him, saying, "We have an incoming wormhole, sir." He paused as he checked the incoming iris signal. "It’s the rescue teams sir." He opened the iris as the teams stepped out of the event horizon. Ferretti looked up at the people in the control room and shook his head slowly, not needing to say anything.
*****
Hammond put down the red phone on his desk and sighed as someone knocked on his door. "Come." He looked up as Major Carter came in and seated herself in front of him. He spoke before she had the chance to get a word out. "Major, I know what you’re going to ask, and I’ve just got off the phone with the president about it. All SG teams are to be on the lookout for any signs of the Colonel off world, and the number of missions assigned to that sector of space has been doubled. Unfortunately, no more effort than that can be expended looking for him."
Sam gave a half-hearted smile as she stood back up, saying, "Thank you, sir."
Just as she was about to leave, the General said, "Oh, and Major, why don’t you and the rest of SG-1 take a few days off? You look like you could do with some R&R."
"Yessir." She closed the door and went to tell the others.
*****
Jack lay still and groaned softly as he tried to assess his situation. He blinked a few times, trying to get his eyes used the dark room he was in. Quickly scanning the interior of the room he was being held in, he groaned again.
*Yup, typical holding cell...probably foot thick stone walls, and an unpickable lock...They don’t seem to have very much in the way of imaginative decoration. * He rolled over and rubbed the lump on the back of his head, wincing as he did so. Standing up slowly, he checked for his weapons, not really expecting to find any. Jack sighed, feeling every one of his more than forty years. He checked his watch, relieved that they had overlooked that at least. His eyebrows raised as he noted that almost a full day had passed. Taking the initiative, he wandered over to the door and thumped on it with his fist.
"Hey!" He yelled. "Hey! What about some food in here?" He only had a few seconds to wait before the door banged open. Five men entered the cell, four clad in chain mail and wearing swords at their hips, the fifth wearing a dark red robe, the hood pulled up so that his face was in shadow. His dark skinned hands came up slowly as he pushed back the cowl. He looked Jack in the face, a chilling grin on his lips. Jack blanched as he took in the gold tattoo on the forehead, and the thin, hard face. "Shak’l."
The Jaffa smiled as he signalled the guards to leave the room. "Yes, Tau’Ri." He said, the smile still on his lips. "I am he, but not the same Shak’l that you last met." At Jack’s puzzled frown, he went on. "I no longer serve in the Serpent Guard of Apophis. I have found other things that are much more rewarding." Shak’l paused, judging the impact of his words. "While I may have lost my power and rank among the Goa’uld, and be branded a shol’va, as is Teal’c, I still much prefer my way of life now...I rule this miserable planet, and all it’s people."
Jack was stunned, but managed to ask, "How?" Shak’l smirked.
"I took some nishta with me before I left Chulak. I came to this world, and subverted their king...and before I killed him, he left it all to me, pitiful fool that he was. So now I am king...much better than First Prime, don’t you think?"
Jack snorted as he said, "Well, forgive me if I don’t bow, your Majesty." The last words were laced with an acidic sarcasm. "Seems to me as though some of your subjects are a little less than happy with their lot though..." Shak’l smirked, but there was no humour in the expression.
"They were rebels...the few who survived have fled into the forests. They are of no matter. I will flush them out and kill them when I can be bothered." He sneered at the Colonel. "And while those particular rebels will live ‘free’ until I hunt them down, you, will rot here in this cell ‘til the day you die." With that, he spun around and stalked out of the room, the door clanging solidly shut behind him.
*****
The days passed slowly for Jack in the tiny cell. He found a small fragment of rock in one corner, and he had used it to scratch marks into the wall, a sort of calendar. Currently, there were about twenty marks, over three weeks. Then, on the thirtieth day of his incarceration, it all changed. A short scream rang out from outside the door to his cell, trailing off into a gurgle. Jack looked up as the door opened slowly. Three large men came in. They looked over him for a second or so, before helping him up. One of them, presumably the leader, said "Salve, mei friend. Nos rebels sumas, et te’s liberos."
Jack stood up slowly, a frown on his face as tried to decipher what they were saying. *I’m not as good at this as Daniel is…lemme see now. I can pick out some English words, friend and rebel…* He scratched his head, thinking back to all the times he had tried to shut out Daniel’s droning on about dead languages. *OK, I remember ‘nos’ from French at High School, and liberos sounds like ‘free’…OK, so I know it’s a mixture of English and Latin of some kind.*
He grinned as he remembered an old Italian film he had had inflicted on him in his younger days. Hoping that they understood him, he ventured, "Gratias, mei friends." He received large grins in reply as they headed out of the cell and down the hall. Jack spared only a glance at the dead guard at the door. The body lay slumped in the chair, a slight trickle of blood from the nose the only indication that the corpse was not just another sleepy watchman.
Jack was lead down a series of twisting corridors for a long time, finally emerging in a courtyard that faced the city beyond. His rescuers turned to him as they stopped, one of them pulling a large, brown cloak out and handing it to him. Jack looked out into the street, and then down at his own rather dirty, and very different clothing. He nodded his thanks as he flipped the cloak over his shoulders and did the clasp up. Stepping out into the teeming street, they merged with the flow of traffic, and disappeared.
*****
The days passed swiftly in the rebel’s camp in the woods as Jack became more and more fluent in the local dialect, surprising even himself that he was able to hold a coherent conversation in under a fortnight. When he felt confident, he decided to talk to the leader of the band about some pressing matters. Jack waved in greeting as he wandered over to where the leader, Guyvan, was trimming the fletches of a new arrow.
"Greetings, Guyvan! How goes the work today?" Guyvan looked up at Jack, a grin on his weathered face.
"It goes well, my friend, very well indeed. We are preparing an ambush for two nights time…would you like to join us for the raid?"
Jack smiled as he said, "Of course, Guyvan. I am honoured that you would invite me."
Guyvan laid the knife and arrow down as he stood up, brushing his hands against his apron. He removed it and placed it next to the knife, flinging a comradely arm around Jack’s shoulders as he led him over to the section of the camp used for armour repairs and forging.
"I have a present for you, Jack." Seeing Jack’s eyebrows raise, he explained further. "If you are to join us in the raid, and in battle, you need armour, and a sword!" He stopped at the door to the smithy. A brief command brought the massive smith out of the forge.
Jorgan the Smith was a huge man, standing six inches over six feet tall, and close to two and a half feet across the shoulders. His arms rippled with muscle as he closed the door behind him, mopping some sweat off his brow with one forearm. He grinned through his long, blonde moustache as he handed Jack a brand new shirt of burnished steel chain mail. Jack’s arms sagged slightly as he took the weight. Guyvan held the shirt up by the shoulders, allowing Jack to test the fit. Jack’s face emerged from the neck, grinning like a ten year old. He jumped slightly to settle it onto his shoulders as Jorgan and Guyvan turned him around, making sure that all was well. Jorgan slapped Jack on the back, causing a merry jingling, and returned the grin.
"She’s a fine suit, Jack, and she’ll save yer skin, of that you can be sure." His eyes lit up as he ducked back inside for a moment, emerging with a wide leather belt, and sheathed sword. "But what good is a mail shirt without a weapon?" He raised Jack’s arms and wrapped the sword belt around his waist twice. He clipped the sheath to the belt using the two large studs set into the leather for that purpose and stepped back to admire his handiwork. Jack fingered the rounded pommel for a second or two before drawing the blade. Just over three feet long, the sword glinted as the light flashed along it’s polished length. He held it up to the light and ran his fingers along the edge, testing it’s sharpness. He rolled the blade over as he read the inscription etched into the base of the blade, near the hilt.
"Clan O’Neill." He traced the tip of one finger along the words and then sheathed the sword. Looking at Jorgan and Guyvan, his eyes teared up a bit. His voice awed, he said, "Thank you, my friends. This is truly wondrous workmanship. I will never be able to repay this honour." Guyvan smiled, happy lines forming all over his face.
"Jack," He said. "All I ask is that you to do what is right by your heart, nothing more." Jack reached out and clasped Guyvan by the hand firmly.
"You have my word that I will." Jorgan gave Jack another beaming smile as he went back inside the forge to hassle some more work out of his assistants, closing the door behind him. His fingers still resting on the hilt of his sword, Jack said, "Guyvan, I must find a way to contact my friends…They do not know that I am still alive, or even where I am."
The rebel leader promptly replied, "Use what ever you need Jack, your friends should know that you are safe." He paused for a minute, before continuing. "Soon, Jack, we must teach you how to use that sword you have at your hip, or else it will not do you much good in battle."
Jack grinned as he nodded his assent, eager to learn. "I will begin my training as soon as I have left a message for my friends." Saying that, he headed off to the supply shed to look for some tools.
*****
Jack put down the carving tool as he brushed some burrs off the top of the box he had just finished making. Setting the box to one side, he began to write a letter to Daniel, knowing that he would be the one to find it. Jack dribbled some candle wax onto the letter and pressed one of his dog tags into the soft wax to seal it. He picked it up and placed it inside a small metal box and closed the lid, the hidden catch making a soft ‘click’ as the lid was locked. Jack smiled to himself as he imagined the look on Daniel’s face as he read the letter when he found it.
*What I wouldn’t give for a camera then, Danny boy…* He stood up and placed the box under one arm and went looking for Guyvan again.
He found Guyvan at the archery butts, longbow in hand. The target in front of him bristled with shafts, looking more like a porcupine than a target. Jack set the box down as he said, "Guyvan! I have a favour to ask." The rebel leader slung his bow over his shoulder.
"Of course, Jack. What is it?"
"A few things, actually. First off, how heavily guarded is the Portal?" Guyvan scratched his head as he tried to find where the conversation was headed.
"Not heavily at all…maybe three men, and they sleep most of the day away." Jack grinned. *One hurdle down.* He thought, before saying "What I have in mind, my friend, will not only return me to my people, but free this world as well." He saw Guyvan’s face light up as he went on. "I must go through the Portal to another world for a short time, to place this…" He showed the box the Guyvan. "My people are searching many worlds for other cultures. They will see this box, and know where to find me. They will come here, and we will stand side by side in battle to free your people."
"Then," Guyvan said, handing the box back to Jack with a toothy grin. "we must do it right away. I myself will guard your back as you do it." They headed off through the camp, calling the men to them as they went.
*****
Sam rolled over in her bed, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She lay still for a moment, trying to figure out what had woken her up. A flashing red light on her bedside table caught her attention. She frowned as she picked up the pager and saw the SGC number on the screen. Carter scrolled down, reading the text. All it said was ‘Urgent: get to SGC ASAP!".
*What can it be at this hour?* She thought as the clock clicked over to 2400 hours. Hastily, she pulled her clothes on and made a few desultory passes at her hair with a brush before grabbing her keys on the way out.
Less that fifteen minutes later, she parked her car in the lot and made her way to the main entrance. Sam saluted the guard on duty as she showed him her ID tag. Instead of being told to go through, he said, "Major Carter, the General wants to see you in the control room as soon as possible." Sam’s eyebrows went up as she began to hurry along the corridor, intrigued.
She stepped out of the elevator on level 28. Almost immediately, she felt the tension in the air. She glanced around at the few people still on the base at that hour, noting their excited expressions. She walked into the control room, startled to find both Teal’c and Daniel there already. They turned as she entered the room. Teal’c turned and said, "Good morning, Major Carter."
At the sound of his voice, Daniel turned, startled at Sam’s presence. "Sam!" He exclaimed. "I didn’t hear you come in." Carter grinned, remembering what the Colonel used to say about Daniel’s apparent deafness.
"That man," He would say. "Could ignore a herd of stampeding elephants when he’s concentrating on one of his rocks." Although he was declared MIA almost two weeks ago, Sam still felt that he was out there, somewhere, alive. Sam’s mind returned to the present.
"Daniel, do you have any idea why the General wanted to see us at this hour of the night?"
"I can answer that right now, Major." They spun around and saw Hammond place his hands behind his back, the corners of his mouth turning up slightly. He nodded briefly to Lieutenant Simmons, who pushed a tape into the player as the General said, "SG-9 are scheduled to go to P4Q-481 tomorrow. We sent the MALP through, and this is what it found…" He trailed off as he pointed to the screen. The standard picture of the back of the DHD was slightly different. At the base was a small metal box, tucked in out of the rain.
"Zoom in please, Lieutenant." Simmons tapped a few keys and the image enlarged, focusing on the box. Carved into the front of the box was the SGC logo.
"How…" Sam muttered. Looking closer, she saw some faint markings around the edge of the emblem. She tapped the screen softly, and Simmons zoomed in further. As the image was enhanced, the numbers and letters could be made out. Daniel traced the script with one finger as he read.
"T2 SN 44 736 2554 966 What on earth could that mean?" Sam gasped, her hand going to her mouth. Daniel looked at her questioningly. At his puzzled look, she explained.
"I don’t know that the ‘T2’ stands for, but the rest of those numbers are Jack’s, I mean, the Colonel’s serial number." Since Daniel still looked puzzled, she went on. "You know in the movies, when a soldier is captured? All the information they’re supposed to give is their name, rank, and serial number. That’s Colonel O’Neill’s serial number."
General Hammond glanced between Sam and Daniel. After several seconds silence, he said, "SG-1, if you want, you can ship out to P4Q-481 at 0800 this morning."
Sam grinned as she said, "Yes sir!" The General looked at the beaming faces of the rest of the team, grinned himself, and said,
"Get some sleep people. Dismissed." He left the room, feeling better than he had in weeks.
Sam, Daniel, and Teal’c were walking back to the Jaffa’s quarters when Daniel frowned, shaking his head slightly. Seeing the expression, Teal’c asked, "What is wrong Daniel Jackson?"
Daniel rubbed his eyes. He sighed and said, "Well, I’m trying to figure out what ‘T2’ means…it has no relevance in any language I’ve met to date." He glanced up at the Jaffa. "Have you heard the term before, Teal’c?"
His face as calm as ever, Teal’c replied, "Only once, Daniel Jackson." He paused for a second before explaining. "I was watching a video with Cassandra. I believe it was entitled ‘T2: Judgement Day’."
"That’s the one with, oh…what’s his name?…That really muscley guy who says ‘I’ll be back’ in that bad accent…"
"I believe you are referring to Arnold Schwartznegger."
"Yeah, that’s the one!" Really puzzled now, Daniel asked, "But why would Jack carve the name of a movie into the box?"
Sam jerked to a halt, her eyes lighting up. "Daniel," She said excitedly. "What do you know about that movie?"
"Not much…" Came the perplexed response. "Why?"
"Well, you just quoted the most famous line from the film…’I’ll be back.’…probably the only line from it that Jack would remember. I know he still makes jokes about it, he always did after we watched it." Daniel looked up, questions and excitement warring inside him. The questions won.
"We watched it?" Sam flinched ever so slightly, glad that the subdued lighting concealed her faint blush.
"Don’t worry, it’s not important…what is important is that he’s just told us that he’s alive and well, and waiting for us to rescue him!"
*****
Sam did the chinstrap of her helmet up quickly, watching as the Stargate locked the chevrons in. It activated with it’s usual splendour, the MALP moving up the ramp almost before the wormhole had stabilised. Anxious seconds passed before General Hammond’s voice came over the intercom. "SG-1, you have a go!" Unconsciously, Carter adopted Jack’s ‘mission mode’.
"OK people, let’s move out!" She jogged up the ramp, followed shortly by Daniel and Teal’c. The Stargate disengaged with a tearing noise as the tree SG-1 members walked over to the box in front of the DHD and knelt down. Daniel picked it up, running his fingers over it.
"Well," He said. "It seems to be a box of some kind, but I can’t find the catch to open it…" He frowned and looked closer, his fingers picking up a slight rough spot in one corner. With a magnifying glass, he was able to make out a very small carving of the Earth Point of Origin. He pressed it, and jumped slightly as a soft ‘click’ came from inside the box. Daniel tried to lift the lid, surprised as it came open easily. Inside was a neatly folded letter, sealed with wax. Daniel opened it.
Space Monkey, What have I told you about playing with alien rocks? You know who wrote this. Give me a call…I’ll be waiting. 12.6.33.27.10.18
Daniel chuckled as he read it, passing it to Carter when he had finished. "I guess he knows me better than I thought." He grinned at the other two. "And now we know where he is as well…" Teal’c raised his eyebrow. Not needing the question to be voiced, Daniel explained. "Six numbers…that’s a Stargate address without the point of origin…I told you about it when I came back from P3R-233…the alternate reality thing…He remembered, and wrote the address down for us to follow, but not in any way that somebody else could understand."
Sam grinned from ear to ear. In a voice that had echoes of Jack everywhere in it, she said, "Well, Danny, what are you waiting for? Pack the rock up and let’s get outta here!"
Daniel, grinning likewise, threw a snappy salute. "Yes Ma’am Replacement-Mr.-Sarcastic-Colonel-Type-Sir, ma’am, SIR!"
A faint smile playing around the edges of his lips, Teal’c raised his arms to the sky and said, in perfect Jack O’Neill tones, "Oh, for cryin’ out loud! Why me?" As Daniel dialled home, they stepped through the event horizon, grinning like children.
*****
Jack dabbed at a nasty cut to his forehead, inflicted by a particularly resistant soldier who was stationed at the Stargate. After he had returned from P4Q-841, they had found four new guards at the Stargate, obviously the replacement watch crew. A short, ugly little fight ensued, the rebels easily getting the upper hand. He sheathed his sword and glanced over at Guyvan, who was making his way over to him.
"Well done, Jack." Guyvan complimented, throwing a lazy salute. "You have learnt your lessons well. You use that blade like you were born to it."
Jack smiled slightly as he responded. "For some reason, I feel like I have used a sword for years… it just feels ‘right’. But only now am I beginning to understand the difference between a soldier and a warrior." Guyvan looked curiously at Jack, a question in his eyes. Jack explained. "A soldier is simply a man whose job it is to kill who he is told to…it is his job. A warrior, on the other hand, makes his battles his life’s work…it is a lifestyle, not a job."
Guyvan’s eyes light up as he said, "So, you have discovered the Code at last! You are right, Jack, it is a lifestyle. The Code is a combination of the emotions a warrior must possess: compassion, mercy, determination, and, above all, honour. Any man can pick up a sword and use it to kill another man, but it takes a warrior to not only risk his life for a cause, but to choose a cause that is right by him. That is why we will win. We believe in our cause with passion, heart and soul. My men do what a ask of them not because I tell them to do something, but because they want to. The Code is what we live our lives by each day…and now you know this as well."
Jack heard a noise behind him. He spun quickly, his sword half drawn. He let it slide back into the scabbard as he saw that it was only a horse, probably belonging to one of the fallen guards. He walked over and rubbed it’s glossy golden coat with one hand as the other scratching behind it’s ears. "There’s a good girl." He turned as Guyvan came and stood next to him.
The rebel leader grinned at him, saying, "A beautiful animal, Jack. By rights, she is now yours…" Jack looked puzzled, so Guyvan explained further. "Only one of the guards had a curved blade, the blade of a horseman. He was one of the ones you killed. Therefore, all that was his, is now yours…spoils of war, as they say."
Jack smiled a bit sadly. "I am sad that I had to kill him, but I had no choice. If the horse was his, then I must assume the responsibility for her, otherwise she will starve." He stroked the horse’s mane. "She will be a good steed…it looks as though she we be an obedient." As if she understood what he was saying, the horse snorted and shifted her weight, almost stepping on Jack’s feet. He grinned, remembering another female who wouldn’t take to his condescending either. "I will call her Sam…after the only Sam I know. This horse reminds me of her: strong willed, intelligent, and not afraid to tell me what she thinks of me."
Guyvan stroked Sam’s head, saying, "Then Sam she is, Jack." He glanced around the horizon for a moment before saying "We had better head back to camp now, before it gets dark. I will post a constant guard here in case your friends arrive soon."
Jack nodded as he threw a saddle rug and bridle onto his horse. Tightening the saddle buckles, he swung up into place and offered Guyvan a hand up. Their mission accomplished, they rode off back to the camp.
*****
The next day, Jack was making his way back out to the Stargate to check if his team had come yet, when he heard the unmistakable sounds of the ‘Gate engaging from over the hillock. He leant down and tapped his heels into Sam’s flanks, urging her to go faster.
The guard looked up as the Portal began to make noises, lights appearing around it. He jumped back, surprised, as the wormhole activated. His eyes narrowing, he drew his sword as many people came out of the event horizon.
Sam, Daniel, and Teal’c weren’t alone on the rescue mission. All of SG units not off-world had begged to come, and the General had readily agreed. He would have sent more, but every other team was off-world for another two days. So, the rescue team was made up of units 2 through 6. The guard waved the tip of his sword at the new comers, not realising that their MP-5’s were weapons.
"Mane, xenos!" His curt command caused all of the guns to be trained on his chest and head, the safety catches flipping off in the same movement. Daniel raised his hands, saying, "Wait, wait wait! Don’t shoot, he’s just making sure we don’t try anything against him." When they lowered their guns, he continued. "He’s peaking what sounds like classical Latin, he basically said to ‘stay put, foreigners’. I’m guessing he won’t hurt us if we stay still." The guard glared at Daniel.
"Tace!" Daniel glanced at Sam and Teal’c as he mouthed the translation, "Shut up." His eyes flickered to the ridge-line, where he could hear the sound of approaching hoof beats. The guard kept his gaze fixed on the soldiers as a golden horse burst over the hill, heading straight towards them, it’s rider hunched over it’s neck. It galloped towards the group rapidly. When it was no more than thirty yards from them, the rider slipped his heels from the stirrups, tucking them under his buttocks on the saddle.
Jack dived from the back of his horse, rolling as he hit the ground, running as soon as his feet made contact with the grass. He came to a half in front of the guard. Placing his fists on his hips, he bellowed, "Attende, milite!"
The guard reacted instantly, the point of his sword dropping to rest on the ground, his hands resting on the pommel, his back straight. Most, if not all of the SGC soldiers felt their feet twitch in response to the familiar parade ground tone, even if they didn’t understand the words themselves. Colonel Makepeace’s raised eyebrow prompted Daniel for the translation.
"Ah, well taken in context," Daniel said, a look of astonishment on his face. "It means ‘snap to, soldier’." He grinned as Jack turned around to face them.
He bowed to them from the waist, and said, "Nobles all," He rose from the bow, a cheeky grin on his face. "What kept you?" He was mobbed instantly by the soldiers, lead by Major Carter.
When the wild, exuberant greetings had settled down, Daniel asked, "So, Jack, what have you been up to?" He glanced at Jack’s mailed torso and sword. "You have been doing well for yourself it seems…" He grinned from ear to ear.
Jack, one arm still absently wrapped around Carter’s waist, said, "Well, Danny boy, it kinda reads like one of those wild, improbable TV shows…I was knocked unconscious, and taken prisoner. I was freed by the local rebels, who took me in, and now I’m helping them to be free of their evil tyrant…You won’t believe who it is…an old acquaintance, none the less."
Teal’c did his trademark eyebrow raise at this statement. Jack explained.
"He’s about so tall," He held his hand out at about head height. "Dark skinned, and he has a gold tattoo on his forehead…"
Daniel’s face hardened. "Shak’l."
"The one and only." Jack said. "He went shol’va as well, but not for any moralistic reasons like Teal’c here…he was looking out for numero uno…He’s set himself up as king of this world. The rebels, the ones who freed me, have banded together, and we’ve been fighting running battles with the local militia for the last week or so." He looked up at the sun for a second. After a brief conversation with the guard on duty, he addressed the rest of them. "It’s going to be dark in another hour or so. Why don’t you let the General know that you’re all safe and sound, then we’ll head on over to the camp and have some dinner? There’s a few things that I need to get sorted out before we go."
Major Carter looked at the others. Seeing their grins, and knowing that they were typical males, always hungry, she smiled at Jack. "I think that’s a ‘yes’, Colonel." Jack turned slightly and placed two fingers in his mouth. He gave a short whistle, calling out to his horse, who was contentedly grazing on the hillside. The horse’s ears pricked up, her head turning to look at her master as he said, "Come on, Sam!" She trotted over to him. Jack, noting the strange look on his Major’s face, explained. "I named her after you… Reliable, blonde, and not afraid to give me a kicking." Carter shook her head and smiled as Sam playfully head-butted her.
"Well, Major," Jack quipped. "It looks like you’ve made a friend." They headed down the rebel encampment, Jack patiently explaining the linguistic differences to an enthusiastic Daniel.
*****
The sound of laughter floated across the camp, causing Jack’s lips to crinkle into a grin. The cause of his mirth was the rebels down at the archery targets teaching most of SG units 2 and 3 the finer points of the longbow, i.e. how not to shoot the person standing next to you. Sam, seated on the log next to him looked questioningly at him.
"Archery 101." He answered her unspoken query. "Wanna go see how they’re doing?"
"Why not?" Jack stood up, offering his hand to Sam. Taking it, she stood also, falling into step beside him as they made their way towards the targets.
When they reached the others, Jack chuckled openly at Ferretti, the arrow weaving back and forth in a figure eight as he tried to aim it. The commander of SG-2 loosed the shaft, watching as it landed about half way down the green. Turning an indignant glare at the Colonel, he said, "You think this is funny, Colonel?" He gestured to an unstrung longbow at his feet. "Why don’t you give it a go?"
Jack shrugged his shoulders. "Why not?" He stepped forward, slipping his tunic from his body in a smooth motion. Sam’s eyes wandered down his naked back, watching the muscles ripple as he easily compressed the bow and slipped the string in place. *I can see that being captured hasn’t done your muscle tone any harm, Colonel.* She thought. Her face heated as her treacherous mind continued. *I wonder if his stamina has been affected?* With a slight shake of her head, she dismissed the thought, preferring not to think about it now…there would be time for that later. Jack picked up seven arrows, pressing them point first in the dirt. Nocking an arrow, he sighted down it for only an instant before releasing. He had another one in the air before the first had reached the target. As the last arrow whacked into the target at the far end, he lowered the bow and grinned at Ferretti. He held his hand out in front of him, gesturing for the Major to see where the shafts had struck. When they reached the target, they found six of the arrows spaced evenly in a circle at the bullseye, their feathers touching. The seventh was in the dead centre.
Jack turned to Ferretti, saying in an almost-humble voice, "So I practice…" Two short horn blasts rang out, causing Jack to swing his tunic over one shoulder and lead the others back to the main camp. He turned to face them. Grinning, he said, "Dinner time!"
As they made their way down to the mess hall, Jack was approached by Guyvan. Waving the others on ahead, he stopped, facing the rebel leader.
"What’s up, Guyvan?" Guyvan grinned, saying,
"I have been talking to the Circle of Brethren. You have been offered a place among our ranks."
Looking puzzled, Jack asked, "Who are the ‘Brethren’?"
"A wise question, my friend. We are, were, I should say, an order of Knights before the False King took over. It was our duty to search out injustice in the Lands, answerable to no-one but the truth. Most of us were killed when the one you call Shak’l came to power…now, there are only a few of us left, rebels all. The Circle is formed by the most senior amongst us. It is they who must decide if a person is to be offered a place in the Brotherhood of the Lion. Not many are given the choice, maybe five or six in a decade."
Smiling, Jack said, "It would be my honour, Guyvan." Guyvan clasped hands with Jack, his face splitting into a huge grin.
"We will have the ceremony tonight, after the feast. I must go tell the Circle at once!" Jack chuckled and continued on his way to the mess hall to tell the rest of his team about it.
*****
Flames from the bonfire lit the faces of the crowd with a flickering orange light, the crackle of the fire the only sound in the clearing as Jack stepped out of the tent, clad in only a pair of black woollen trousers. His torso had been oiled and painted for the ceremony, black, red, and white whorls and spirals, dipping and curving across his chest and back. Stepping into the firelight with the grace of a panther, he knelt before the table at which the Circle sat, backs to the flames. Guyvan, seated in the middle of the row of Brethren, stood up. He raised his voice to the crowd assembled in front of him.
"We, The Circle, as representatives of the Brotherhood of the Lion, have called this gathering of the people to witness the oath about to be sworn by the newest amongst us, Jack O’Neill." Daniel, sitting at the edge of the crowd, was pressed into a running translation of the speech by Sam and the others. Guyvan looked at Jack, his face calm. "O’Neill, you have been offered a place in the ranks of the Brotherhood. Knowing what this entails, do you accept it?" His voice, clear and sure, Jack answered.
"Yes, I accept." Stepping around the table, Guyvan held out his hand to one of the Circle seated behind him. When his hand came back around, it held a small stone bowl and a knife, both engraved with the symbol of the Lion. He laid the blade first on one of Jack’s shoulders, then the other. Finally, he pressed the flat of the blade to the kneeling man’s forehead. Jack took the knife from Guyvan, kissing the blade.
"O’Neill, if you would be one of us, speak the Oath." Jack drew a deep breath, pressing the point of the knife above his heart. With a slight twist of the gleaming blade, he opened a small nick in his skin. Guyvan stepped forwards, pressing the bowl to Jack’s torso. After a few seconds, the bowl had enough blood in it. Jack looked squarely into the face of the rebel leader as he spoke.
"I, Jonathan Charles O’Neill, accept a place in the Brotherhood, to abide by the Code and the Measure until my last breath. I accept the rank and position that this allows, and also the responsibilities. I will strive to uphold the teachings of the Lore to the best of my ability. To this, I, Jonathan Charles O’Neill do swear, by my heart’s blood, my honour, word, and soul." His face solemn, Guyvan dipped his index finger into the bowl and placed a single drop of blood between Jack’s eyes. Stepping back, he signalled to two other members of the Circle. They stood behind Jack and fastened a jet black cloak, trimmed with lion’s fur, around his broad shoulders.
"This man," Guyvan said. "man no longer, but Knight, is of the Brotherhood of the Lion. Arise, Lord O’Neill." When Jack had come to his feet, Guyvan continued, his voice grave. "Go thee amongst thy people, Lord O’Neill, and carry this night forever in thy heart." He placed his fist over his heart and bowed his head as Jack did the same. Looking at his friend, he raised his voice once more. "Let the festivities commence!" A tremendous shout rose up from the assembled crowd as Jack turned to face them. Everyone jumped to their feet as the drums and flutes began to play, the infectious beat causing person after person to start dancing.
*****
The party went on into the small hours of the night, people heading towards bed closer to dawn than midnight. Sleepy and slightly drunk, Sam was wandering in between the trees when she saw Jack heading towards his tent for the nigh. Raising her voice she called out to him.
"Jack, wait!" Turning, Jack peered into the gloom, wondering who had spoken. He smiled as he saw Sam emerge from the trees. He stopped as she strolled up to him.
"Can we talk for a bit?" She asked as he offered his arm to her in a gentlemanly fashion.
"Sure…" Glancing around, he saw a fallen tree not far off. Steering her over to it, they sat down. "What did you want to talk about?"
After a short pause while Sam came up with several responses, she said, "Anything, I guess… We’ve got a lot of catching up to do. You were away for a long time. You gave us the Reader’s Digest version back at the ‘Gate, but I want details, Colonel." Jack grinned in the darkness.
"Well," He said. "There was quite a lot of training, with the bow, and the sword, maybe five or six hours a day. It was a lot of fun, really…I managed to work off a bit of that flab I got from too much paperwork." He was interrupted by a snort from his Major.
"Paperwork? You?" She grinned at him, lightly backhanding his stomach. "I can see it’s done you good, anyway." Jack caught her had, throwing her a mock glare.
"Hey! What’s with the beating your superior officer up? I thought the idea was to rescue me!" Sam grinned even wider as she pushed him backwards off the log onto the ground. Before he could roll out of the way, she jumped down and sat on his stomach, pinning his arms to the ground with her hands.
A feral glint in her eye, she said, "But, you see, I’m the only one allowed to beat up on you…nobody else."
Jack shifted slightly under Sam, moving his arms out to his sides. When her face was an inch or so from his own, he whispered. "So you’re the only one who’s allowed to spank me?"
Their breaths mingling, Sam said, "Yes, and if you ever run away like that again, I’m going to take you back to my quarters and tie you up, so you can’t get away."
His eyes roving over her face, Jack asked, "Promise?" Sam lowered her face until their lips almost touched. As she drew breath to answer his question, she was cut off by Daniel’s voice, echoing through the camp.
"Jack! Jack! Where are you?" Muttering threats against the archaeologist under his breath, Jack sat up, gently removed the Major from his lap, and called out.
"I’m over here, Daniel!" He helped Sam to her feet, brushing some twigs off as he did so. It was at that moment that Dr. Jackson arrived. He glanced from Sam to Jack and back again, noting the debris on Jack’s clothing and Sam’s knees. Sighing, Jack said, "What was it, Daniel?"
A faint smile, hidden by the shadows, played on Daniel’s lips as he replied, "I just wanted to ask you some questions about the city you were taken to…but that can wait until morning." So saying, he bid them a hasty goodnight, and headed back to the campfire to find out where his tent was.
Shaking his head, Jack offered Sam his arm in a courtly manner, and said, "May I escort you back to your tent, milady?"
Smiling, Carter took the offered arm, saying, "But of course, milord." They wandered slowly back to the sleeping area, arm in arm.
When they reached Sam’s tent, Carer invited Jack in for a while, saying, "Oh, while you were gone, Cassie had her thirteenth birthday…I know you wanted to be there, so I brought the photos with me. You wanna see?" Jack readily agreed, and they stepped inside. Sam turned the electric lamp on, filling the room with a yellow glow. Digging the pictures out of her pack, she sat down next to Jack, who was seated on the edge of the camp bed, idly playing with the zip of Sam’s sleeping bag. Jack frowned as he saw the goose bumps on Sam’s arms.
"You’re freezing!" He said. "Why didn’t you tell me you were cold?" Sam gave him a brave grin.
"I’m not cold." She lied.
Shaking his head, Jack replied, "Well, Major, your arms say otherwise." Glancing at her eyes, he lightly trailed one finger up her forearm. Gasping slightly at the unexpected contact, Sam half closed her eyes, an involuntary shudder running up her arm. Jack lifted his hands to the pin holding his cloak on.
Seeing the gesture, Sam said, "No, Jack. Then you’ll be cold, not me. That leaves us in exactly the same situation." A devilish glint in his eyes, Jack replied.
"Well then, Major, I think I have the solution." He shifted his weight back, moving his knees apart. Patting the bed between his knees, he motioned for Sam to sit.. A puzzled look on her face, Sam complied. When she was settled, Jack flipped the edges of the cloak around them both so that only their heads stuck out of the cloth. Sam threw a grateful grin over her shoulder at the Colonel. Snuggling down, she held up the photos through the gap in the cloak for Jack to see. A smile on his face, Jack listened while Sam recounted the saga of the birthday party.
Two hours later, a relaxed silence fell in the tent, only to be broken by the Major’s yawn. Her slow breathing told Jack that she was nearly asleep. He shifted his weight slightly, intending to lay her down gently and head back to his own tent. Sam turned around half way, looking up at him through sleepy eyes.
"Stay." She gave him her best ‘pleading puppy’ look, the one that she knew made men go weak at the knees. She resisted the urge to smile as she felt, through the thin layer of clothing separating them, his heart beat erratically for an instant.
Carefully keeping his face neutral. Jack asked, "Are you sure?"
Sam leant forwards, pushing Jack onto his back. Laying on the bed, their arms wrapped around each other, Carter replied. "Yes, I’m sure…besides, you yourself said that I was freezing, so we’re just sharing body heat…like in Antarctica."
Smiling at the transparent yet possibly believable explanation, Jack said, "Works for me…"
There was silence for a few seconds as Sam searched Jack’s face. With tears in her crystal blue eyes, she said, "It almost doesn’t seem real…I thought I’d lost you for good, Jack, and now here you are…alive and well." Tenderly, Jack cupped Sam’s face in his hands, wiping her tears away with his thumbs.
"Sam," He said gently. "It’d take a lot more than what’s out there to keep me away from you." He leant in, and kissed first one cheek, then the other. Finally, he kissed the tip of her nose. In a mock-stern voice, he said, "Now sleep, Major, that’s an order." Two thirds asleep anyway, Sam snuggled her face into Jack’s shoulder, whispering as she drifted off.
"Yes, my Colonel." Seconds later, Jack was sleeping too.
*****
The wind tossing her hair, Sam looked over her shoulder at Jack, seated behind her as they rode his horse bare backed along the edge of the forest. A whispered command brought the horse to a stop in a clearing. Jack slid off first, then helped Sam down. Out of the day pack on his back, Jack produced some sandwiches and gave half to Carter. That morning, he had managed to excuse their absence for the rest of the day by telling the others that he had some interesting mineral sample for the Major to look at, all the while both of them were steadfastly avoiding looking at Daniel’s eyes, and the vaguely self-satisfied smirk hovering around the corners of his mouth.
The horse wandered over to the small brook at the edge of the grassy area to drink, while Sam and Jack leant against a fallen tree, contentedly eating their lunch. Sam lay back into Jack’s arm and wriggled to get comfortable as he pulled an apple out of the pack, offering her a bite. Tilting her face upwards slightly, she placed her lips against the fruit and took a large mouthful, the juice dribbling down to her chin. With his free hand, Jack wiped the drip off Sam’s chin. Before he could move his finger, however, Sam moved her head forwards, drawing his finger into her mouth and sucking it clean. A soft purr escaped Jack’s mouth as Sam teased the tip of his finger with her tongue, lightly flickering it from one end to the other. Setting the apple to one side in favour of more interesting distractions, Jack slid his unoccupied hand around Sam’s waist, his fingers slipping deftly under the bottom of her shirt to draw lazy circles on her bellybutton as his lips descended to her neck. His kiss sending waves of pleasure up and down her body, Sam turned her face to Jack’s, meeting his hungry lips with her own.
A slight shift of weight, and they were laying on the ground, Sam on top, with Jack’s hands resting on her hips, and her arms on either side of his head. A subtle change in the forest noise caused Jack to stop instantly, his attention reluctantly dragged away from his Major to the surroundings. Sensing the abrupt change in the Colonel, Sam sat up, swiftly scanning the tree for danger. Rolling to his feet with dagger in hand, Jack silently made his way between the trunks. Fifty yards closer to the tree line, right at the edge of the forest, six men were riding slowly, their low voiced banter at carrying the immediately identifiable undertones of soldiers sent on an unpleasant and boring duty.
"But why us, Maltek?" The first rider turned and glanced at one of the others behind him. The soldier he addressed, clearly the leader of the little patrol, answered.
"Because, Kirlan, the King told us to go and find the trails leading into the forest, so that the army will not have to hack their way through. The outlaws are in a large number, so there must be some form of path in."
Maltek gestured for three of the others to continue in the direction that they had been travelling, while Kirlan, himself, and the other soldier stopped to water their horses. The other soldier stroked his mount’s mane and said, "Beats me why he left it this late, actually, with the attack being only two days away and all."
Maltek, a nasty grin on his face, replied, "I wouldn’t say that within earshot of the Royal Guard, Gyrlath."
His face paling slightly, Gyrlath said, "Yeah, I value my intestines, thank you very much."
Their horses having drunk their fill, Maltek said, "Mount up, we’d better catch up to the others." Swinging into the saddle, they were galloping almost before they had settled in place.
A puzzled look on her face, Sam didn’t need to ask the question. Looking very worried, Jack answered her unspoken question. "They were scouts…looking for the best way into the forest for Shak’ls army…which will be here the day after tomorrow." The relaxed, romantic mood now completely destroyed, they quickly packed their gear up and headed back to camp at a canter.
*****
The banners snapped in the stiff breeze as the opposing forces faced each other across the grassy field. Late the previous evening, the rebel soldiers had decided to change their defence strategy, opting for a course that would, if successful, save many lives, not only on their own side, but in the opposition’s ranks as well. Two soldiers rode out from within the orderly lines of men belonging to the outlaws under a white flag of peace.
They were met half way between the two armies by one of the Royal Guard, and also the armour clad ex-Jaffa Shak’l. Speaking in English for the benefit of the false King, Guyvan spoke first.
"In the interests of peace, we come to you with an offer, so that the bloodshed might be lessened. If you would be King, you must hear our words under the law of Loqueris Libertatiis, Free Speech. In refusing this request, you would prove beyond doubt to all who follow you that you are none but a usurper. Will you hear our words?" Grinding his teeth in impotent fury, Shak’l replied.
"I will hear your words." Keeping any trace of smile from his face and voice, Guyvan continued.
"Good. In times of conflict, the matter might be settled by the engagement of the opposing forces, or, more simply, by the combat of a chosen representative from each of the armies. The outcome of the duel between the champions is determined by the Gods, he who is right in his cause shall be strengthened by their arms. What say you to the duel?"
A confident smirk settled on Shak’ls lips as he said, "I accept your terms. The weapons?"
Relieved that the proposal had been accepted, Guyvan explained. "The combatants are to be armed with a sword only, both blades of equal length. No shield is allowed, nor is armour…the armour of the Truth is all the defence needed by he who is right."
Sure of himself, the false King said, "Very well. I name myself as champion of this army. There are none in this world who can best me in combat. Who is your champion?"
Removing his helm, Jack grinned nastily as he said, "Well, we have had a bit of luck there…I am."
"You!" Shak’l spat the word, his face twisting in distaste. "I will rip you apart in this duel, and feed you to my dogs as scraps!" Glaring at Guyvan, he spoke again, his voice a mixture of rage and hunger to fight. "We will begin in ten minutes." Turning abruptly, he mounted his horse and returned to his awaiting army.
As Jack and Guyvan made their way to the rebel force, knight turned to Jack and asked, "Are you sure of this, my friend?"
His eyes hard, Jack responded. "Yes, Guyvan, I am sure." Reaching the safety of their own ranks, they began the preparations for the duel.
Guyvan stepped forward, a mechanical device in his hands. Setting it on the ground at the edge of the roped off combat area, he said, "This will chime in one minute from the time I press the button. A chime will sound, and the duel will commence." He depressed the small button on top of the device and stepped back as the two combatants entered the arena.
Stripped to the waist, both of the duellists wore only a pair of black woollen leggings and some boots. Around the abdomen, Shak’l had a cotton band covering his symbiote pouch, to protect it from dirt. At each of the corners of the arena stood two men, one from each of the armies, armed with crossbows. Their muscled bodies oiled and gleaming in the midday sun, Jack and Shak’l waited, swords in hand, as the clock whirred. The loud chime of the bell merged into the ringing clash as the swords met in mid air, a shower of sparks cascading over them both as they disengaged, circling one another slowly, eyes probing for weaknesses. Jack stepped in, throwing an off side snap to his opponent’s ribs. Rolling his shoulders, he flicked the back edge of the blade to the on side of Shak’ls head. His blade vertical, the Jaffa blocked the first strike easily. Anticipating the next shot, a slight shifty of the blade deflected Jack’s sword over his head. Grinning at the expected defence, Jack spun and flicked the tip of his weapon at Shak’ls face, dropping the point into a slash across his opponent’s midsection. With a startled oath, Shak’l barely managed to avoid a killing stroke, taking a cut to the ribs for his effort. Following his natural instinct to duck slightly and half turn, the Jaffa used the move to cover the preparation for a backhanded blow launched at Jack’s face. A surprised Jack bent over backwards quickly, the sword whistling barely half an inch from the tip of his nose.. Straightening, Jack grasped the hilt of his sword with both hands, swinging as Shak’ls stomach. When his blade clashed with his enemy’s, he used the rebound to pirouette, the pommel catching Shak’l in the side of the head. Dazed, the Jaffa backed off half a pace, then stepped inside Jack’s guard. With a nasty twist, his blade opened a cut across Jack’s forehead as his knee slammed brutally into Jack’s groin. With a startled grunt, Jack dropped to the ground in agony, barely managing to roll to one side to avoid the slashing downward stroke that would have severed his head from his body. Rolling once more, Jack swept his leg out, collecting Shak’l on the side of the knee. Blinking blood out of his right eye, Jack stood quickly, his face twitching in controlled agony from the pain in his groin. Separating briefly, the two opponents glare at each other, watching the eyes for a minuscule narrowing that would preface a surprise attack. Snarling with hate, Shak’l began a series of broad, overhand strokes. Driven back by the force of the attack, Jack deflected each of the swings, lulling his aggressor into a rhythm. Shifting his defence suddenly, Jack watched as Shak’ls next stroke was checked slightly. Angling his blade downwards at waist height, Jack stepped to one side and let the attack deflect. Raising his blade suddenly to meet the oncoming edge, Jack quickly swept the tip in a tight circle. His face red with effort, Jack smashed his sword into the forte of his unsuspecting opponent’s blade. With a loud clang, Shak’ls sword spun from his grip into the air. His hands stinging from the jarring, he looked down only to see the edge of Jack’s sword at his throat. He dropped slowly to one knee, tucking his toes in preparation for a leap.
"I’d like nothing more that to run three feet of cold steel between your breakfast and your lunch, you slimy, treacherous bastard, but I Have to ask. Do you yield?" Jack stepped back until the very tip of the sword was resting in the hollow of Shak’ls throat.
His face twisting with rage and humiliation, Shak’l defiantly shouted, "Never!" He bunched his muscles and dove forwards, intending to impale himself on the sword at his neck. The slight shift of weight was all that Jack needed to alert him to his opponent’s plan. Stepping to one side, he spun the blade in an arc, turning the edge ninety degrees. It all ended abruptly when the flat of the blade connected with a loud ‘thump’ with the back of Shak’ls head. Unconscious and face down in the dirt, the Jaffa didn’t utter even a groan as Jack stepped back to the exultant cheers of the rebel army, raising his sword in victory. Lifting his voice above that of the crowd formed by both the armies, Guyvan addressed them, Daniel muttering the translation to an enthralled Sam.
"My friends! It has been proven in trial by combat that Lord Jack O’Neill was in the right. Therefore, the false King Shak’l is guilty of usurpation, wrongful imprisonment, and deceiving the people." Turning to face Jack, he continued. "The usual sentence for such crimes is lifelong exile. But, as the victor, you have the final say."
His mind whirring, Jack said, "Exile you say…then exile it shall be, but to a place from where he will never again cause trouble. This then, is his sentence. He is to be sent through the Stargate to the planet Taldek, an uninhabited world, but one which will support life. The Stargate of that world is broken, and will only allow things to be sent to there, not from." Smiling, Guyvan turned once more to the crowd.
"My people, Lord O’Neill has spoken. We are, once more, free! Go now to your homes with the news, and let the party begin as soon as the sun goes down." As Guyvan finished, Jack stepped forwards before the crowd could disperse.
"People of the Kingdom," Jack said. "Today, the reign of a false King has come to an end. Through his treachery, none of the children of the former, rightful, King survive. In the last few months, the leader of the ‘rebels’, Guyvan, has shown himself to be a gifted leader of men, and a skilled negotiator. What say you to appointing him as your new monarch?" Jack turned, grinned, and clasped the hand of the new King to the roars of approval of the crowd.
The party got under way much sooner than expected, and lasted for many more days as the people celebrated their freedom and new ruler.
*****
The briefing droned on slowly. Jack, caught in a bemused reverie, smiled as he remembered the look on General Hammond’s face as he stepped from the event horizon, clad in his chain mail, sword belted at his hip, followed by Samantha the horse. He snapped back to the present as the General finished up with the magic words: two weeks downtime. They stood up and filed out of the briefing room, grins on their faces. Daniel hung back slightly, grabbing Teal’c by the arm to slow him down. Wordlessly, he pointed to Sam and Jack, who were involved in a hushed conversation in the hall a few meters ahead.
Sam headed off to the change rooms. As she did so, she looked over her shoulder, threw Jack a brilliant smile and a half wave. Curious, Daniel and Teal’c approached the Colonel.
Looking at the smile tugging at the corners of Jack’s mouth, Daniel asked, "What was that all about, Jack?" The faint smile turning into a fully fledged grin, Jack replied.
"Ah, Danny-boy! I have some unfinished business with an apple to complete, don’t y’ know…" He waved and strolled happily down the corridor to his quarters. As he vanished from view, Daniel would have sworn that he could hear the words "And maybe later, some strawberries and whipped cream as well…" emerge softly from around the corner.
Finis
Story Notes: Notes: this has taken me a while, so i hope it lives up to your expectations. feedback will determine if i write the next six or so fics that i have in my head!
DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters, settings, etc, are the property of their respective owners. Any original characters and plots are the property of the author. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended. ... [ read more ]