CHAPTER 11 - THE FIFTH RACE
Knowledge
Part 1 - Prologue
Journal Entry, Earth
Ever since we came back from Ernest's planet with that record of four different alien languages, I've been spending every spare minute -- and there haven't been many of those, unfortunately -- trying to decipher them. But I've been up against what scholars in the past faced trying to read Egyptian hieroglyphics before the discovery of the Rosetta Stone. There are just no points of reference for me to use. It's been unbelievably frustrating to have all that knowledge right here in my hands and be unable to access it.
It's gotten to be something of an obsession with me to 'break the code' of these writings. If we could just understand this language, perhaps it could lead us to the races that allied against the Goa'uld. Or it could provide us with critical information on how to fight them. Unfortunately, so far I haven't been able to convince anyone else just how important translating this language could be. If it isn't a military weapon, it's hard to get the general's attention, and Jack's eyes begin to glaze over as soon as I mention that 'meaning of life stuff'. Not that Jack isn't supportive, in his own way. But his idea of support is to drag me to a hockey game or back to his place for a hot meal and a movie to get me away from my obsession for a few hours.
But yesterday I finally had my first break. A probe to P3R272 sent back an image of writing much like one of the languages on Ernest's planet. This may be the planet where the answers are. Tomorrow I'm going to present my findings to Jack and General Hammond, and this time I have to make them understand not only the significance of this find, but how important it is that we go to P3R272 and look for those answers.
D. Jackson
***
Part 2 - "Well, I guess that thing must have put more than just a
'language' into your brain."
*Daniel Jackson*
My God, that's it. That's got to be it. New stargates are popping up all over that computer screen and none of them match up with the Abydos cartouche. "That circular inscription read, 'The Place of Our Legacy.' What if that thing you looked into was some sort of... alien database. Like the one we found on Ernest's Planet." The full impact hits me all at once and I feel like all the air has suddenly been squeezed from my lungs. "All the knowledge that these particular aliens possessed." And it's all in Jack's brain...
Jack looks stunned and... totally lost. His eyes slowly meet mine and I see the unspoken plea there. I want to say something, anything, to reassure him that I will help him, I'll find a way somehow, I promise. But before I can open my mouth, the general speaks.
"Colonel, you are not under arrest, but you are not to touch anything else on this base without permission. Is that understood?"
Jack understands. You only need to look at his face to know what this order does to him. Jack O'Neill has risked his life a hundred times for this base and this planet, and now he's being told not only is he restricted to base, but he's not allowed to touch anything? I feel a flash of anger at the injustice of it. They can't believe Jack would do anything to jeopardize --
"Etium...sir," Jack says softly. He's staring at that computer screen filled with the symbols of new stargates with a dazed look that has me more than a little worried. Everyone else is staring at Jack as if they're waiting for him to perform his next new trick.
That's it. I step up to Jack and take his arm, firmly turning him away from the computer . "I'm taking Jack with me. If you need us, we'll be in my lab," I announce flatly, and without waiting for permission, I stride off with Jack in tow. To my amazement, he comes along without any resistance; that worries me more than anything. From somewhere behind me I hear the general's, "Very well, Doctor Jackson," but he could be ordering a Big Mac and fries to go for all I care. I want to get Jack back to the privacy of my office where he doesn't have to face the wary looks of fellow officers who are wondering what he might do next.
Once we're in the hallway he seems to come to himself, and I immediately let go when I feel him start to pull his arm free. Shoulders rigid, eyes straight ahead, he walks beside me without saying a word. I ache to ask him if he's okay, but I can tell how hard he's trying to keep himself together in the face of the curious stares from passing SGC members. The always-active grapevine must be working overtime if they know about this already. So I keep my mouth shut and walk stolidly by his side, willing him to feel my support.
When we reach my office, I close the door behind us and see the rigidity drain from him and something like relief flood his eyes. With a start of surprise I realize... he feels safe here. With me. I want to thank him for that trust, but I'm not sure I'll be able to get the words out. Instead I touch his arm and indicate the chair at my desk. He looks at me for a moment, then nods and sinks wearily into the chair, his hands squeezed into knots where they rest on the desk top.
I pour us each a cup of coffee and set his in front of him. Immediately wrapping his hands around the mug he murmurs, "Grates." He realizes instantly what he's said and he lifts his fists, pressing them tight against his temples. "God damn it!" he whispers harshly. "What the hell is cruvis with me?"
Quickly, I take a seat on the other side of the desk and lean toward him, gripping one of his wrists. "Jack, take it easy," I urge gently. "Don't fight it."
He drops his hands and stares at me in a mixture of disbelief and anger. "Don't fight it? What do you expect me to do, just sit here and let this -- this alien database take over my fron until I'm not even me anymore?"
I take a deep breath in an effort to keep my own fears well hidden. Jack is completely out of his element here and I can see he's hanging on to his control with only the greatest effort. I feel a sudden surge of protectiveness for this man who is the most self-reliant, self-contained person I have ever known. I will not lose him to an alien database. I will not lose him. Period. "I'm not going to let that happen," I say firmly.
He opens his mouth to speak, then stops himself, squeezing his eyes shut and giving his head a sharp shake. Has he lost the ability to speak in anything but the alien language already? Or is the frustration of helplessly using alien terms too much for him to face right now? Opening his eyes, he gives me a look that clearly asks how in the hell I think I'm going to stop it?
"We're going to work on this inscription," I reply, as if he's actually asked the question. "The more I can learn about the alien language, the better I can communicate with you. And all those new stargates you entered into the computer -- the answer may be on one of those planets, Jack. We'll keep looking until we find it." By now I'm really leaning across the desk, looking him right in the eye, trying to make him believe that I'm not giving up and that I won't stop trying until we have the answer. When his gaze remains flat and he doesn't respond in any manner, my own frustration and fear drives me to slam a hand down on the desk and demand, "Damn it, Jack, have you ever known me to give up on anything?"
There's a spark of interest in his eyes and one corner of his mouth lifts slightly. Snorting softly, he gives his head a negative shake, and I sit back in my chair.
"Okay, then," I say briskly, sliding the photos of the inscription in front of him. "Let's get started."
***
Part 3 - "I can't leave him like this...and I won't."
*Daniel Jackson*
Now we're getting somewhere. The probe has actually found a planet containing a pedestal with symbols that match the alien language. I try to catch Jack's eye across the table as the general authorizes the mission, but Jack is staring straight ahead, making eye contact with no one.
"You're authorized to go, Captain. Major Castleman will be joining SG-1 on this mission."
Whoa. What? "Well, if Jack's not going on this mission, then I have to stay."
The general gives me a puzzled look. He does that a lot. "Why's that, Doctor?"
I can't believe he's going to make me spell it out for him in front of Jack. But, too late, I realize I should have pulled the general aside after the briefing and explained it to him. He's looking at me, waiting for an explanation, so he gets it, a little impatiently, "If Sam and Teal'c make contact with the Ancients, then they can report back, and then Jack and I will go. But, until then... I mean, translating this language may be the most important thing we've done since we opened the Stargate." I take a deep breath and let him have it, although I don't expect him to buy it: "You see, I'm pretty sure that Jack is speaking the language of the original gate builders. At the very least, I'm sure it's one of the races that created the repository of information on Ernest's planet, the... meaning of life stuff." I use this phrase deliberately and shoot a quick look at Jack, hoping for at least something like the reaction I usually get when I throw those particular words around, but he's still staring straight ahead, his face expressionless.
Sam jumps in then. "And sir, I believe that the equation that Colonel O'Neill wrote on the blackboard is a revolutionary new formula for calculating the distance between planetary bodies."
The general looks a little more interested now; that's information he can use. But back to the real issue here...
"And bottom line, sir, what about Jack? I mean... right now I'm possibly his only hope for communicating on any serious level. I can't leave him like this... and I won't." I almost add, and you can't make me, before I catch myself. But he can't, and I hope I've made that clear.
The general gives me a direct look that tells me I've made myself perfectly clear, thank you, and turns to Sam. "All right. The rest of you will leave at 1600 hours."
***
Part 4 - "You know that meaning of life stuff? I think we're going to be all right."
*Jack O'Neill*
To quote Dorothy: There's no place like home. Even those automatic rifles pointed at me as I stroll down the ramp sing 'home sweet home' to me. I see Daniel do a sharp turn in the control room and rush out, followed by Teal'c.
Daniel's waiting for me at the bottom of the ramp with a look on his face that I recognize immediately. I probably wore that same stunned/relieved/please-let-me-believe-my-eyes expression when I stood in this very room and laid eyes on him, alive and well, after I thought he'd died on Apophis' ship. When he stood on this ramp not that long ago and watched me walk through the Gate, his emotions were on his face for all to see. Ah, Danny, I'm sorry you had to go through that, but have I got a story to tell you!
Teal'c joins Daniel at the ramp and I give him a quick, acknowledging nod, but return my attention to Daniel, who still looks like he's afraid to believe his eyes. "I'm back," I announce. Look at me, Daniel, I'm here and I'm speakin' English again. I'm okay, kid.
Daniel's eyes don't leave my face. "What happened?"
"Do you still possess the knowledge of the Ancients?" Teal'c asks.
I know how much Daniel really wanted that knowledge -- almost as much as I didn't want it in my head, thank you very much -- and I give a little sigh for his loss, but it's a relief for me to say, "Nope. Don't remember a thing."
But there's plenty I do remember. Like Daniel sticking to me like glue through this whole mess, refusing to leave my side, refusing to give up when I was close to doing just that. And I remember the look on his face when we stood here on the ramp and he said, "If you go, you might not be able to come back."
There's something else, too. He was right. About the Ancients and Thor and the alliance, and, hell, just about everything else he was spouting off. I can't wait to get everyone into the briefing room and tell him that in front of the whole bunch of 'em. And I'm going to make sure I'm sitting across from him when I do because I want to see his face.
The thought of that makes me smile, but when I look back at Daniel, I see he's still staring at me a little anxiously. The tension of those long hours spent trying to find a way to prevent my mind from being overwritten by an alien database obviously haven't faded yet. Don't you worry, Danny, there's a six pack in my refrigerator with your name on it, and by the time you get through with that, you won't even remember what you were worried about.
"But you know that meaning of life stuff?" I ask him, already anticipating his reaction when I tell him what happened.
There's the faintest frown of confusion on his face, but he nods slightly.
With great satisfaction, I tell him, "I think we're going to be all right."
***
Part 5 - Epilog
Journal Entry, Earth
I'm not sure there's an aspirin in the world big enough to even touch this hangover. I blame Jack, of course. It was his beer. He doesn't have a hangover at all this morning; in fact, he's making quite a show of walking around very quietly and bringing me orange juice and coffee, but he looks insufferably smug. I'm not real clear on why he didn't get drunk as well last night; things are a little fuzzy during that time frame, but I think I remember him saying something about being the 'designated colonel'... whatever that means.
I'll never admit this to Jack, but getting me drunk last night was probably the best idea he's had in a year. Learning that I'd been right about the Ancients and the alliance of the four races was certainly gratifying -- especially the way Jack presented it in front of everyone -- but it couldn't erase the strain of all those hours spent helplessly watching Jack slip away from us, or that moment on the ramp when I thought I'd never see him again. Even after he was back and I knew he was safe and back to normal, I was so keyed up I was probably vibrating. Left to my own devices I probably would have done what I usually do under those circumstances and drink a pot or two of coffee. That usually guarantees insomnia for at least a couple of days or until I'm so exhausted I fall asleep in spite of myself.
But Jack never gave me the chance to put that plan into motion. As soon as the debriefing was over, he hauled me home with him and plied me with beer and pizza. I didn't drink enough to pass out, just enough to get very, very relaxed and happy -- and guarantee a hangover.
Somewhere during the night I remember him helping me back to the spare room where I'd stayed for the first couple of months after I'd returned to Earth. As he was helping me into bed, he gave my hair a quick ruffle. "How's it feel to be right, Daniel -- again?"
I sighed with contentment as I settled onto the soft pillow. "Feels good, Jack," I mumbled.
I could hear the amusement in his voice as he said, "Yeah, I'll bet it does. Get some sleep, buddy."
Reaching out clumsily, I snagged his arm before he could turn away. "But it feels better," I told him, "knowing you're okay."
I could just make out his features from the muted light spilling in from the hallway as he looked down at me. "I hope you're not too drunk to remember this in the morning," he murmured. Leaning over, he gave my shoulder a squeeze, his voice serious. "Thank you for everything you did and everything you tried to do, Daniel. There's no one on any planet I'd rather have at my side when I need help." Then he straightened and I could see his grin when he said, "Now get some sleep, and I'll have the aspirin and coffee ready in the morning."
And being the good designated colonel that he is, the aspirin and coffee were, indeed, ready and waiting.
D. Jackson
© February 2, 2000 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa’uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.