XOVER: Changing of the Guard 4: The Road To Hammelcar [PG13] 4/19
ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Sun, 23 Dec 2001 08:34:50 -0600
Notes and disclaimers in part 0/19
Chapter 4
Breakfast was the Ishri equivalent of porridge or oatmeal, neither of which
appealed to the two men from Earth, who were used to more substantive fare
as well as a real choice in the matter. Jack grumbled, Methos looked
resigned, and they both felt relieved when they lined up with the others to
await their orders.
Third Leader Naxsos entered as they all came to attention.
"Congratulations!" he began. "Today is a great day for you all! Our beloved
Supreme Leader has arrived in this sector and we have docked with the
flagship. It has been requested that you be transported there for a personal
greeting." Jack and Methos glanced nervously at each other while the
Immortal recruits cheered loudly.
"Damn!" Jack muttered as Naxsos began leading them to the promenade outside
their quarters for transport.
"Relax," Methos told him quietly. "It's just a minor glitch. A little pep
rallying with the Imperious Leader and it's off to the training. I'll bet he
does it with all the new arrivals. Makes 'em think they're special."
"Yeah, Hitler used to do it all the time," O'Neill nodded. "Get 'em by the
balls and their hearts and minds naturally follow."
"About the size of it," Methos agreed.
A few minutes later they found themselves standing on the deck of another
ship. Like the Goa'uld's transport rings, the Ishri had access to matter
transfer technology and Methos still marveled at the process. His surface
memories of his time with Tok'ra were relatively few, although familiar
objects and situations were bringing up new ones all the time. Still, this
wasn't something he recalled from his service with Tok'ra. Or maybe Tok'ra
just hadn't liked using the technology. As Methos recalled, he'd always been
a sort of back to basics, do it yourself, kind of guy. No wonder he liked
Jack so much!
"Greetings." The dulcet tones of a familiar female voice echoed through the
moderately sized hall and Methos slowly turned with the others to see the
Supreme Leader. Jack put a cautious hand on his arm as he flinched visibly
and the memories came rushing back...
"That wasn't very bright, little boy. You'll be punished for that." "I can't
see why he bothers with you at all. You're as dull as that nasty tribe of
savages where he found you." "Get out of my way, boy, or I'll hurt you."
"See my new rank? You'll never have it. I know something you don't."
"Quinta," Methos breathed as the others moved forward and he ducked his head
to shield his face from her view. "We've got to get out of here now, Jack!"
O'Neill didn't question his reaction. And Methos supposed his face was pale
enough at the moment to make the colonel a believer.
"Okay," Jack nodded once, his eyes scanning the room for exits. "She's
making it a personal meet and greet. Stay behind me. We'll move with the
others until there are enough on the other side to mix with. Got that?"
Methos nodded, keeping his head down and his shoulders slumped. How could I
have forgotten her?! he wondered, feeling sick as they moved slowly forward
in the reception line. For twelve years, until he'd left Inanna's house to
serve with Tok'ra, Quinta had been the bane of his existence.
While Inanna had been a doting mother, utterly ignoring him once he'd gone
to her husband, Quinta had always made her feelings known. She'd despised
him, or so he'd believed as a child. Now, looking back as an adult, he could
now see her jealousy for what it was. Until his arrival she'd been the apple
of her father's eye. And she'd been old when he came. Immortal already and
long since involved in the affairs of her elders. No patience and no
compassion for a small boy. Certainly not one whom she must have felt
usurped her rightful place in the hearts of her parents.
Of course, Inanna's heart had never really had any room in it for anyone
other than herself. But she'd liked her entertainment -- and he'd been
precocious enough to keep her amused. At least for a while. And Tok'ra,
loving father though he'd been, was often gone for long periods of time,
leading the war effort to destroy the Goa'uld.
Methos shuffled forward at the back of the line, trying to calm his wildly
beating heart. He didn't wonder how she had survived. Inanna would have kept
her as close as Tok'ra had kept him. Did she know her mother had murdered
the father she'd so adored? Or did she even care at that point? Maybe she'd
hated Tok'ra as much as she'd hated his son. Just how long had she served
Inanna before deciding to overthrow her?
None of these questions really mattered in the end, Methos realized as Jack
silently nudged him and they casually moved among the milling soldiers over
to the area where food and drink were being offered. Around them, men and
women with brightly glowing faces exuded the kind of manic happiness that
belonged only to the true disciple.
"I take it you knew her?" O'Neill murmured as they sidled through the crowd.
Methos grimaced. "The elder sister from hell!" he hissed from between
clenched teeth.
The colonel tried, and failed, to stifle his laughter. "So, I take it you're
not interested in a reunion?"
Methos' grimaced then his face grew taught as he glanced over his shoulder
at the proceedings. "Looks like she's going to make a speech. Jack, there
isn't enough of a crowd! If I turn around she's likely to notice me."
"It's the nose," Jack observed. "You've got a real stand out there, buddy."
Methos glared in frustration. "Would you be serious," he gritted. "We're in
danger here! We need to get the hell out!"
"We're moving aren't we?" O'Neill responded calmly. "Just relax, Captain.
There's an exit at the end of the food line. Grab a plate and we'll go."
"I'm not hungry!" he hissed. "Can't we just make a run for it?"
Jack stared at him curiously then nodded. "Okay. It's your call."
Much to Methos' relief they were soon at the exit. His only mistake, for
which Methos would later curse himself thoroughly and soundly, was in
glancing back. Taking one last look at his past. One moment in time when he
lost all his wisdom, perspective and ancient cunning -- to look back with
the longing of a child. And in that moment, that single loss of
self-control, Quinta noticed the unexpected movement.
Their eyes met across the room and Methos felt a chill run through him as
she smiled in recognition then leaned over to speak with her aide,
discreetly pointing in their direction.
Of course she'd want this done quietly! Methos realized with a some relief
as he and Jack shared a glance before bolting from the room. Wouldn't do to
have the troops get an inkling of their lousy security.
"Shit!" Methos spat as they raced down the hall.
"Later," Jack told him as they ducked into a niche to wait for a small knot
of soldiers to pass. "Let's find their gate and get back to the SGC. Worry
about big sister later."
Methos stared at him, suddenly realizing his second big mistake. "This is an
exact replica of Inanna's original flagship. Tok'ra never installed a gate."
"What?!"
"She never liked unexpected visitors," Methos explained. "And her security
sucked! So he never put one in. If he wanted to see her, he took a jump ship
like the one we found and used the nearest combat gate."
"But she had one before," Jack insisted.
"Probably already there," Methos supplied quietly. "She'd have just built
around it. And it would have suited her purposes in controlling and
undermining the Tok'ra to travel that way."
"Great!" Jack sighed. "Any suggestions?"
"Head down," Methos shrugged. "We should be able to find the hanger bays
from here. We are dressed as officers. And it didn't look to me like she
wanted our presence advertised widely. Quinta probably thinks I'm here to
spy on her."
"She'd be right," Jack grinned.
"And since that meeting was totally unexpected," he went on, ignoring the
comment. "She'll also probably expect me to have a way out aboard the other
ship."
"Again she'd be right. Bet you said that a lot when you were a kid, huh?"
"Yes!" Methos hissed. "She was always right! Okay? It was very annoying.
Now, could we please just escape? I'm really looking forward to this!"
"You're the guy with the plan. Lead the way, little brother."
Methos gave a heartfelt sigh and started looking for a maintenance hatch.
There was one down a side corridor and they made it inside just as another
group of guards rounded the corner.
"So, you think she's going to be looking elsewhere?" Jack asked from behind
as they crawled along the narrow conduit.
Methos grunted in affirmation. "Quinta always had a plan. And come hell or
high water she'd bloody well stick to it if it killed you."
Jack chuckled. "Not big on spontaneity, huh?"
"Hardly. I seem to remember one time when my tutor was ill and she happened
to be home. Inanna made her take charge of me for the day. She followed his
schedule to the letter. 'Two hours out of doors.' He didn't bother to mark
it that small children generally tend to play, and that one had to be
flexible on account of the weather. Seemed rather obvious, I expect. Two
hours standing at attention in the freezing rain. Had a mild case of
frostbite when she finally let me back in."
"Ouch," Jack grimaced, trying not to laugh at the unbidden image which
suddenly popped into his head. The one of little Methos running to mommy to
complain that his big sister was being mean.
"Laugh all you want," Methos muttered as he finally found the access ladder.
"But if she catches us she's going to kill me -- and you into the bargain."
"Why would she want you dead?" Jack asked as he followed Methos down. "You
practically handed her Inanna's power base. I'd think she'd want to thank
you for that."
"She's always considered me her rival, Jack. Now I've gone and killed
Inanna, something she obviously wanted, whatever her reasons, and like all
megalomaniacs she'll be thinking I want her dead, too."
"Okay, I get it. No love lost between you."
"None whatsoever," Methos agreed tersely. "And...she's tried it before."
"When?" Jack looked down and caught Methos' eyes as he paused.
"It wasn't obvious," he responded softly. "They were meant to be accidents.
A violent death so I would become Immortal too early and Tok'ra would have
to..."
"Have to what?" Jack asked as Methos trailed off.
The Immortal sighed. "So Tok'ra would have to take my head out of mercy."
"What?!"
Methos glanced away, not wanting to talk about this particular aspect of
Immortality. "Imagine an Immortal child, Jack. They can't grow up. Can't
fend for themselves. Can never be independent. I've seen such children.
Eventually, they all go mad. Tok'ra would never have allowed me to suffer
like that."
"Jesus!"
"It happens," Methos admitted sadly as he began moving again. "More often
than you might imagine.
O'Neill gasped softly as he realized what that meant. What kind of choices
Methos had been forced to make. "You did what you had to," he finally
offered as they continued down.
Methos bit his lip, silently acknowledging this gift of acceptance which
O'Neill had once again extended.
A long time later, Methos halted them at the hanger bay level, waiting as
they both caught their breath.
"We can probably steal a ship easily enough," Jack finally said as they
observed the relatively empty bay. "The problem will be getting the outer
doors open and then far enough away to avoid being blown to pieces."
"Doors won't be a problem," Methos shook his head. "The floor of the bay is
designed for explosive drops in an emergency. And," he added thoughtfully.
"I should be able to shut the entire ship down from that access panel." He
pointed to the wall behind them. "Tok'ra's override worked before, can't see
why this ship would be any different."
O'Neill nodded, then, "You can fly one of these things, right?"
"I thought you could?" Methos asked innocently.
"Jes-!" Jack frowned at the Immortal's expression. "Not funny, Pierson."
"Yes, it was," Methos grinned. "Just as funny as an eight year old slowly
freezing to death, helplessly bawling out his eyes."
"Point taken," Jack muttered sullenly. "Now, can we do this thing? Or are we
waiting for an engraved invitation?"
"I am at your beck and call, O Great Satan." Methos gave a half bow and
moved back into the crawl space.
"Insubordinate minion," O'Neill accused softly.
"Come on, Jack, admit it," Methos commented as he pried open the panel he
needed. "You'd never have gotten this far without me. And in a few short
weeks the Ishri would have been nice and cozy with the President."
"Maybe you're right," Jack nodded slowly. "Certainly makes the case for
hiring the elderly."
Methos frowned disgustedly. "I'm so glad you're having a good time with
this, Jack."
"Thanks, Gramps! Can we have a catch later?"
"Catch this!" Methos flipped him the bird then shook his head as he
continued his work, programming what he hoped was the proper sequence for an
emergency shut down with explosive drop. This way, every fighter aboard
would blow their locks and make it virtually impossible for Quinta's
personal forces to immediately follow. And with communications out,
hopefully she wouldn't be able to contact the rest of the fleet.
For a moment, Methos thought about going a step further and setting the
self-destruct. But then he reconsidered, remembering that there were
innocent men and women aboard. Some of whom probably deserved a chance to
live -- even if they were deluded. More to the point, once he was back on
Earth none of this would matter. Quinta would be far, far away, and nothing
she could do or say would ever make the SGC give him up.
"Done," he finally nodded. "Communications are set to disengage with a full
emergency drop. That should give us a good ten minutes to get clear before
the system realizes it's been sabotaged and automatically reinitializes."
"What'd you tell it?" Jack asked curiously.
"That the Vogons were coming to put in an interstellar by-pass and read us
bilious poetry before shoving everyone out an airlock." Methos rolled his
eyes. "What do you think I told it?"
"Dead swans. Dead swans lying in a brackish pool-"
Methos smacked him on the head. "Enough with the dead swans. I knew that
psychotic poetess. She was Immortal."
"You're joking?"
"Nope. So was Lord Byron. In fact, he called her out over it. Took her head,
too."
Jack looked stunned. "He killed her over bad poetry?"
"Yeah. He did," Methos nodded sadly as he shut the panel. "That's what
finally made me say farewell to his little clique of laudanum junkies -- and
stop challenging folks just for the hell of it. A point of honor is not a
reason to commit murder. And certainly not because someone's a lousy poet."
"Actually, I always thought she was ahead of her time."
"You would," Methos muttered. "Shall we?" he gestured to the hatchway.
"Oh, by all means, let's blow this joint."
"Believe me," Methos nodded, crouching at the exit. "It was tempting."
"But you're a good minion," Jack crooned, patting his shoulder.
Methos didn't bother to respond. "I say we take the blue fighter by the
support strut over there," he pointed with his chin.
Jack glanced around the bay and gestured that it was clear, leading the way.
"Why this one specifically?" he whispered as they reached the little ship.
"I like blue."
Jack wagged a finger at him. "Now is not the time, Pierson."
O'Neill lifted the canopy and they climbed in, Methos grinning back at the
colonel. "Nonsense," he insisted airily, strapping himself into the pilot's
seat. "There's always time to laugh in the face of death."
"Good! Because I'm laughing behind his back."
Methos curled a lip, quickly starting a systems check. "No respect," he
muttered. "Older than dirt and I still get no respect."
"None whatsoever. Now let's move!" O'Neill said urgently. "I mean it,
Pierson! Look!"
"Damn!" Methos exclaimed as he saw a dozen soldiers, weapons drawn, racing
across the hanger toward them. "Hold tight!" he shouted and hit the
emergency release.
As the fighter dropped out into space he sent the signal to the flagship's
computer and a moment later a thousand similar ships surrounded them,
automatically heading in different directions. Above them, Quinta's ship
suddenly went dark and began listing to the side. Methos hit the turbo jets,
hoping that he hadn't forgotten how to fly the damn thing. Not only would
Jack be laughing behind his back, but in his face and for the rest of his
life. He'd probably even show up in a thousand years to laugh some more.
Methos sighed as his automatic responses finally kicked in and he found the
frequency that would guide them toward one of the combat gates.
"So, where we goin'?" Jack asked nervously, looking back at Quinta's ship.
"Following a signal to one of Tok'ra's space-based gates."
"Good idea. We can land on P3X1138 where the strike force is training and
get home from there."
"Well, that would be convenient -- if we could actually use the gate on
P3X1138."
"Beg pardon?" Jack responded.
"Just what I said," Methos informed him matter-of-factly. "None of the
fighters in this line are equipped with Dial Home Devices. They were never
meant to go into combat without support. Only the jump ships have them,
because they are, themselves, gates."
"Oh, that's just beautiful!" Jack snarled. "So what the hell do we need a
gate for if we're trapped out here? Can't we just find a planet with a gate?
Like, maybe before the air runs out?"
"We could," Methos agreed with a sigh. "But we'd be taking an awful chance.
This is Inanna's domain. If I were her and I wanted to keep it all to
myself, I'd have removed or disabled them."
"Damn," Jack muttered in disgust. "You're probably right. We tried to find a
live gate in the area, but there was only that one hanging in the middle of
space." O'Neill sighed tiredly. "So, if we can't use this ship to open the
gate, I take it you have an alternate plan?"
"As always," Methos grinned. "But... You really won't like it."
"Probably not," Jack agreed, chuckling. "Lay it on me anyway, soldier."
"Well," Methos began, resetting the last of the defaults. "Tok'ra built the
gate system with one thing in mind. Moving large numbers of ships safely
through enemy territory. To do that, he had to build launch platforms for
those ships. Secret, space-based locations where they could be hidden,
repaired and refueled as needed. By my reckoning, and according to our
friend the computer, the nearest gate is three days away. Which puts us six
days out from the nearest platform to that gate. And..." he sighed. "Three
days beyond our re-breathing capacity."
"You're right. I'm not liking this." O'Neill shook his head. "Why not just
head directly for the platform?" he asked reasonably.
"Because I don't know exactly where it is. We have to be within range of the
gate to get any kind of signal from the platform. There's no way to find it
otherwise. Right now, I'm programming the ship to automatically home in on
it and bring us there safely."
"You mean our corpses," O'Neill mumbled resignedly.
"No," Methos shook his head as he pulled a dagger from his boot and handed
it off to Jack. "My corpse and your very live body."
"You've gotta be kidding!" O'Neill shouted angrily, refusing the blade.
"There's gotta be another way."
"I'm afraid there isn't," Methos told him bluntly. "This is a short range
fighter. Food, water and air for three days max. That's it." Behind him,
O'Neill's head was still shaking. " Come on, Jack, you know I'm right!
That's why you wanted me on your team in the first place, isn't it? Someone
like you that you could trust to make those difficult life and death
decisions? Well, this is one of them."
"Yeah," O'Neill frowned then slowly nodded. "It is."
"Look. This is no picnic for me either. I don't relish the thought of laying
here for a week with a knife stuck between my ribs. But if it gets the job
done, I won't complain. The only other choice is that we both die -- and
cruise through space for the rest of eternity. I'm not up for that today.
This way, we both come out alive, okay?"
O'Neill squeezed his eyes shut and finally agreed. "All right. But what
about Quinta? She'll be looking for us."
"I've disabled the homing beacon, so she can't find us the easy way. And,
while she probably knows about the gates in this sector, I doubt she knows
about the platforms. Inanna wasn't likely to have given that secret to
anyone."
"Okay," Jack sighed, hefting the blade as he steeled himself to act as he
knew he must. "Any last requests?"
Methos smiled grimly. "Food and water are in the panel behind you. One of
the pilots might have left something to read as well. I hope so, for your
sake. If not, try and sleep. There's a medical kit back there, too. It
should have something to help you rest if you need it. Other than that,"
Methos shrugged. "Make sure the knife stays in deep. My body will try to
heal itself by expelling the dagger. Happens with bullets, though I've never
seen it with a blade, so I don't know how long it might take. I'd check
every few hours just to be safe. Better yet, use one of the seat belts to
secure the hilt. Wouldn't do for me to wake up every so often and use up
your air. It's too precious a commodity."
"Not to mention I'd have to kill you again," Jack swallowed, nauseated, and
wiped his sweating palms against his pants.
Methos smiled gently. "Thank you."
"For what?" Jack asked dully.
The ancient Immortal laughed softly. "For giving a damn." He sighed and
shook his head ruefully. "The Watchers were very cavalier about this sort of
thing. No matter how many times, or how badly an Immortal died on their
watch, if it wasn't a true death they didn't really care. They liked to
think it didn't really hurt us. That no Immortal was ever afraid of a little
death. Truth is, we hate it. No one wants to be vulnerable, Jack. Me as much
as anybody. Now, stop talking," he ordered gently, settling himself back
against the seat cushions. "And get this thing done."
O'Neill grimaced as he tightened his grip on the weapon, moving slowly
forward to bring his arms around Methos' shoulders.
"You ready?" Jack asked softly, looking into Methos' eyes as he used his
free hand to clasp the Immortal's chin, deliberately turning his face away.
Methos nodded, only briefly surprised a second later as the hand on his chin
suddenly shifted to his cheek and he felt, then heard, the loud crack-pop as
O'Neill deftly snapped his neck.
The knife slipping sharply into Methos' chest was a far away burn and he
silently blessed O'Neill's name. Good man, he thought distantly as he died
peacefully. Knows how to kill a fellow properly.