XOVER: Changing of the Guard 4: The Road To Hammelcar [PG13] 11/19
ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Mon, 24 Dec 2001 08:54:41 -0600
Notes and disclaimers in part 0/19
Chapter 11
"Estimating thirty-six hours to departure," O'Neill stated as Methos sat at
the operations console recording his words. "Will attempt gate egress in
sector Fourteen A. Closest planetary mass known to have a live gate is seven
hours transit time. We have no GDO. Repeat. Garage Door Opener is missing.
Will signal by other means. O'Neill out."
"That should do it," Methos said a moment later as he sent the short burst
transmission to the SGC.
After observing communications silence for nearly six weeks and having seen
no sign of Quinta's ships for almost the same amount of time, they were
taking a calculated risk. But a necessary one, they both agreed. They were
two weeks ahead of schedule, and if they didn't let anyone know they were
coming, Hammond had no reason to open the iris. And disintegrating on
arrival was not something either of them fancied, especially not after
everything they'd been through already.
"Anything on the radar?" O'Neill asked after a tense half-hour watching and
waiting.
Methos shook his head. "Nope. If Quinta's still looking for us I'd be damned
surprised. She's got a war to fight. I'm sure she knows what her priorities
are. She is, after all, Tok'ra's daughter."
"Good," O'Neill nodded and headed for the lift. "Then let's get this place
packed up, O Son of Tok'ra. I want you to download anything and everything
that might be useful."
Methos rolled his eyes and saluted. "Sir, yes, sir. O Colonel Satan, sir."
Jack turned slowly. "Do I detect a hint of sarcasm in that tone?"
"Oh, much more than a hint. It practically reeked."
"And is there a reason for reeking at me, O Son of Tok'ra?"
"Yeah," Methos turned in his chair. "The whole 'Son of Tok'ra' thing. It's
old, Jack. And tired. I was no more his biological son than I am your
minion," he added testily. Nor, he thought sadly, did he want to be reminded
of just how miserably he'd failed to be "the good son" following in his
father's footsteps.
O'Neill frowned thoughtfully and nodded. "Okay. The whole Son of Tok'ra
thing has been formally retired. But you are my minion and you will NEVER
escape me!" Jack paused to laugh long and malevolently. "Now, get back to
work. The Great Satan has spoken!"
Methos grinned widely as the doors slid shut behind the colonel and he
turned back to his console. Minion he could live with. It pleased O'Neill
and it was certainly amusing. And he'd been lots of things, but never that.
Then again, he realized with a small laugh, he wouldn't ever have tolerated
it from anyone but Jack.
***
For the first time in months O'Neill felt completely satisfied with a job
well done. More than a day had passed since they'd sent their abrupt message
to their friends on Earth and within a few hours he and Methos would be well
on their way home. And not a moment too soon by his reckoning, O'Neill
thought as he did a final check of all the systems aboard the jump ship.
"Gotta hand it to you, Tok'ra, wherever you are," he murmured. "Not only did
you raise a good kid, but you wrote that phenomenal best seller 'How To Fix
Your Very Own Space Ship -- For Morons'. Well, one good kid, at any rate,"
he added with a shake of his head. "Not bad for an old fart."
"I heard that, Jack," Methos' voice came through loud and clear from the
communications console he'd been adjusting.
O'Neill grinned. "Just checking the sound quality," he temporized. "Got your
attention, didn't I?"
"Right. The sound quality. Whatever."
"How you doin' up there? Almost finished?"
There was a soft sigh. "Just about. I tried to reset the station defaults,
but Mabel is insisting on running a full diagnostic before she lets me have
my wicked way with her."
"My kinda gal," O'Neill chuckled. "Time estimate?"
"Maybe an hour." He could almost see Methos shrug. "More if--"
The warning klaxon chimed and Mabel's soft voice resounded. "Incoming
weapons fire. Incoming--"
"Jack!" Methos shouted over the voice of the computer. "We're under a--!"
The station rocked as something, lots of somethings, pounded the asteroid.
Explosions all around the hanger bay shattered the quiet as the station's
security systems fried the main computers.
"Pierson!" O'Neill called. "Pierson! We're leaving! Get down here now!"
There was no response. "Shit!" Jack cursed angrily as he hurriedly climbed
out of the jump ship.
There was a loud thud followed by a metallic clanging and O'Neill glanced at
the hanger bay doors. "Son of a bitch!" he muttered, looking toward the
elevator and quickly deciding against the risk of getting trapped between
levels, or blocked by wreckage as he raced for the emergency access tunnels.
A few minutes later he was standing in the ruins of what had once been the
station's operations center. Shielding his face with his forearm from the
thick, noxious fumes produced by the cooked equipment, Jack hurriedly
scanned the room. One side of the ceiling had caved in, bringing down enough
rock to half bury Methos beneath the debris.
Cursing fate, Jack desperately started shifting the pile of stone. It wasn't
long before he uncovered enough of the Immortal to see that the cave-in had
killed him. Not again! he though, frantically shoving rocks and bits of junk
off the body until it was in the clear.
"Come on! Come on, Pierson! Wake up!"
Bones crunched and snapped as they reset themselves, while energy danced
along the various cuts and gashes as they healed, until at last Methos lungs
loudly sucked in air and he coughed up the blood trapped in his esophagus.
"How ya feeling?" O'Neill asked with suppressed emotion, trying hard not
think about the blood.
"Damned surprised!" Methos spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his
hand. "Quinta knows better than to settle personal debts in the middle of a
war" he snarled angrily. "Tok'ra would have had her hide for a stunt like
this!"
"Sure she does," Jack nodded dubiously. He'd seen too many personal grudges
settled during wars to believe that impracticality was much of a deterrent
to most individuals. "Come on," he nodded toward the access tunnels as he
helped Methos to his feet. "We can debate Her Naughtiness' punishment later.
They're coming in through the hangar bay and we've got to--"
Methos held up a hand, looking first toward the tunnel then toward the
elevator. "They're here," he said resignedly as he sensed Immortal presence.
A few seconds later the room was filled with Ishri soldiers. One in
particular was familiar to them both.
"Warm greetings from the Supreme Leader, Lord Methos, Beloved Son of
Inanna," Third Leader Naxsos bowed deeply. He suddenly noticed Jack,
surprise clearly written in his features. "And to his companion, Apollo," he
nodded politely.
"That's O'Neill," he frowned. "Colonel Jack O'Neill," he added, using the
Ishri equivalent which ranked him above the equivalent Lt. Colonel of a
Third Leader.
"My apologies, Second Leader," Naxsos nodded again. "I know the Supreme
Leader will be most pleased you are both well."
Methos stiffened imperceptibly and Jack moved a little closer until their
shoulders were brushing. He glanced at Jack, who shrugged. Neither believed
a word of it, but then they'd both known Naxsos was deluded.
"He doesn't seem to know about you and... Inanna," Jack said quietly in
English as they were summarily led from the room and into the elevator.
"Maybe twisted sister doesn't either."
Methos favored him with a bitter smile. "Doubtful. She was planning a coup,
remember? I'd have had my own eyes and ears on the target--at all times, if
possible. She wouldn't, of course, have told the troops the real who or why
of how Inanna died. Blamed it on the Goa'uld more like. A good solid enemy
they can fight under her auspices."
"Good point," O'Neill nodded as they reached the hangar bay. Both men
gritted their teeth as they passed their jump ship, now under Ishri guard as
they were marched through the mangled blast doors, through a double set of
air locks and into Naxsos' ship.
"I shall be made Second Leader for this," the man told them proudly as a
short while later he showed them to their quarters. Not the holding cell
they expected, but a well-appointed suite of rooms.
Methos glared at him. "You did this on your own? Quinta doesn't know?"
Naxsos' face fell. "The Supreme Leader was most unhappy with my performance,
Beloved Son of Inanna. It was understood that by your age and the brilliance
of your mind that no man could have possibly foreseen how you would come to
observe us as you did. All the same, I was not given a forward command, but
ordered to the rear guard when the search was discontinued." He smiled
suddenly. "But I will be rewarded for my initiative in scattering the probes
which led to your discovery, Beloved Son of--"
A brutal slap to his face ended Naxsos' joyous declaration and the man
stumbled back against the bulkhead, looking stunned as Methos growled low in
his throat. Jack went still, equally startled by the change, but refusing to
interfere. No doubt the reminder was just as painful as the knowledge that
he had never been beloved.
"Don't ever call me that again!" Methos ordered, stalking toward Naxsos.
"Don't even mention that woman's name in my presence or I'll have your
head!"
"Y-- Yes, Great Ancient," the Third Leader stuttered obsequiously. "My
apologies, Great Ancient."
Again Methos struck him. And then again, for good measure. Jack swallowed
his shock.
"Just so we understand each other," Methos sneered as he finally stepped
back. "Now, bring me my things and get out."
"They are here, Great Ancient," the man pointed toward a large, ornate
cabinet set into one of the walls. "And there are clothes, such as befit
your station. And I shall have food sent. Whatever may be pleasing to you,
Great Ancient."
Methos snorted. "Rags and swill," he muttered angrily, then seemed to wilt
around the edges. "Leave me," he ordered, waiting until the door slid shut
behind Naxsos and he caught sight of the guards in the corridor. Disgusted
with himself, Methos turned his back and took a seat on the edge of a
cushioned bench.
Behind him Jack slowly applauded, watching as Methos started at the sound.
In his attempt to take control of the situation the Immortal had obviously
forgotten his presence.
"Nice performance. Makes Apophis seem almost pleasant by comparison."
Immortal shoulders sagged in defeat and O'Neill relented. "Nah!" he grinned,
moving to lay a hand on the back of Methos' neck, giving it a light squeeze.
"He's a real prick. You're just the occasional bastard."
"Sorry," Methos glanced up as the hand fell away. "I was angry. Bested by
that...fool!"
"Embarrassing, huh?"
"Killing me," Methos grimaced wryly.
Jack sighed and sat down beside him. "Look, we'll come up with something.
There's gotta be a way out of here. Maybe the jump ship is still in the
trash bin down below."
"Not likely," Methos responded. "And how would we get there anyway? I could
ask for a tour of the ship, but I doubt they'd believe I want to inspect
their garbage."
Jack chuckled. "Yeah, they'd probably dump it just to clean the joint up and
we'd still be screwed."
Methos nodded silently. "It's Quinta then, or nothing," he said sourly.
O'Neill watched him for a long moment. "Thinking of selling us out, are
you?"
Methos flushed deeply and lowered his eyes. "I considered it," he whispered,
feeling like a heel. "But it wouldn't do me any good."
"You're right, but you had to consider the options."
Surprised at O'Neill's calm acceptance of his admission, Methos raised his
eyes to stare at the other man.
"Make no mistake, Jack," Methos told him honestly. "If I thought it would
serve a purpose, I'd do it in a heartbeat."
"No, you wouldn't," Jack said with equal honesty. "You'd think about it, and
you'd wish like hell that you still had it in you, but you wouldn't do it."
Methos snorted in disgust. "Oh, you know me so well," he drawled.
"Yeah, I do," Jack nodded. "Look, Pierson. You wouldn't be you if you didn't
consider every possible angle on survival. Hell, I'd be ashamed of you if
you didn't. But you won't give it up to Quinta. Of that I'm positive."
"How can you be so sure," he asked softly, then added even more quietly,
"when I'm not?"
"Because she's your big sister and you're in competition with her. Ergo, no
double dealing on the side."
Methos stared at the colonel in disbelief then suddenly started laughing.
"For a man your age," he finally grinned. "You are far too wise."
"And for a man your age, you're way too slow on the uptake. Now, let's check
out our stuff. Maybe Naxsos is so dumb he left us the guns."
Chapter 12
"No guns, no sword," Jack sighed, "but hey, your CD collection's intact."
"Cool!" Methos quipped. "Now I can beat Quinta to death with pulsating
atonal guitar riffs and pounding rhythms."
"Has merit," Jack nodded. "Both innovative and nasty. And it is the devil's
own music as my granddad used to say. I am deeply impressed, my minion."
"Give it up, Jack," Methos sighed despondently. "Admit it. We're stuck."
"I admit to nothing and yet take credit for everything."
"Then it's your fault we're here, O Great Satan."
"Actually, that was my brother, God, who stuck his big toe in the primordial
swamp," Jack retorted, smilingly widely at Methos' wry expression.
"Okay," O'Neill said briskly, changing the subject as he found a place on
one of the overly ornate couches decorating the room. "Pity party's over,
Pierson. I'll take the first watch, you get some rest."
"Right," Methos nodded. When in doubt play soldier -- as if it would do any
good, he thought despairingly. Then again, who knew what chance might
present itself? He might need that rest soon enough. "Wake me in four
hours," he murmured as he lay down. O'Neill nodded and he closed his eyes.
Instead, it was less than an hour though when the presence of another
Immortal woke Methos and he quickly sat up.
"God, I hate this," he muttered at Jack's questioning glance. "A universe
filled with Immortals and me without a sword."
The doors slid open and Naxsos bowed, asking permission to enter. Methos
stood and nodded imperiously. The Third Leader came in, followed by several
soldiers bearing trays laden with food which were quickly placed on a side
table. He bowed again as the rest saluted in the Ishri way then all of them
hurriedly departed.
"Apparently, the Great Ancient doesn't need a sword to make them fear for
their heads." Jack snorted in amusement. He sniffed the air as Methos went
over to the food and lifted a tray cover. "A few choice words and they think
you can bite their heads off."
"Won't stop Quinta, though," Methos shrugged as he went on lifting covers.
"So, what do have here?" Jack asked as he came over. "Anything particularly
yummy?"
"How should I know?" Methos grumbled. "Take your pick. Blue slimy fishy
thing, purple berry stuff, or cheesy yellow and smells like old socks."
O'Neill shook his head, curling his lip in disgust. "Got a couple of MRE's
left in the packs," he offered.
Methos covered the trays. "Works for me." He grabbed one of the silver
dishes and went to the door. As it opened, he flung it and its contents
across the corridor almost striking one of the guards.
"You call this food?" he shouted as the man cringed. "I wouldn't feed it to
swine!"
Methos stepped back, grinning as the door slid shut. "Gotta keep up the
act," he said in response to Jack's look of surprise.
"There's a good idea in there somewhere," Jack murmured thoughtfully and
Methos paused on his way to retrieve the food packs.
"Yeah, a bit of fun before we die."
"No," Jack shook his head. "But give me time, something'll come."