They'd finally been fed. At Jack's repeated demands, the Magistrate had sent down a fairly large meal and had refilled their waterskin. Claudius' dinner had been an age ago and, despite his dread of what day would bring, Jack found himself eating with a good appetite. Daniel, on the other hand, was nibbling.
"Eat, Danny. That's an order." He tossed the younger man an orange and popped something wrapped in grape leaves into his own mouth. "This is pretty good stuff."
"I'm not hungry." He peeled the orange anyway, sucking on the juicy segments without enthusiasm. "I'm putting in for a month of down time when we get back. This has got to be the worst mission, ever."
"Oh, come on. What about the mission to P8-1126."
Daniel winced. "Land of the walking poison ivy people? Yeah, that was a bad one. Oh, or that planet with the purple sky, where you had to dance…."
"Hey! 'Nuff said. I've blotted that one out." He tossed a warm hunk of bread at Daniel, who threw a bit of orange peel back and missed O'Neill entirely. Jack chose not to comment. "Anyway, P5X-332 was lots worse than that."
Scrunching his face in thought, Daniel said, "P5X-332? I don't remember… Oh! That wasn't so bad, Jack."
"Daniel, everything was gray. Even the people. It was the single most boring place we've ever been. I was tempted to shoot something just to add some color to the scenery!"
There it was. That was the sound Jack had been trying for. Daniel, laughing.
"I was desperate, Daniel! Going wacko! Off my rocker! And they were so freakin' polite! And bland! I bet if we introduced them to garlic, the civilization would die of shock within the week. The food had less taste then MRE's, which, at least, taste like chicken!" He had to smile at the sight of the normally dour young man, clutching his ribs and wiping his eyes.
"Even…," Daniel was trying to control the slightly hysterical giggles, and failing miserably. "Even the Mac and cheese…. Oh, that hurts, Jack. Cut it out!"
Taking pity, Jack shut up. He piled a bit of flat bread with cheese and wolfed it down. Now Daniel would be able to think, now that he was out of the depressed funk in which the verdict had left him. He had really thought he had swayed the jurors, and it seemed he had convinced the Magistrate, at least in part. That wasn't enough, though.
O'Neill looked at his options. The window was too small for two broad-shouldered mooks like them. The door was too well guarded. In the morning, armed soldiers would almost certainly surround them at all times. Unless Claudius could find a way from the outside tonight, they'd have to risk making a break for it in the morning. No way was he going to allow Daniel to get nailed to a damn cross.
Daniel wiped his eyes as the last of the chuckles died away. "Thanks, Jack. I really needed that." He took a long pull at the waterskin and finished off his orange. "Fruit tastes different here, did you notice. All Earth varieties, but just a little, I don't know, off. Not bad, though."
"Even if they, whoever they are, engineered the place to resemble Earth, this is still a different planet. Stands to reason, differences in soil, climate, whatever, would make things taste different. Right?"
"Makes sense." Daniel leaned back against the wall, closing his eyes. "I've been trying to figure this place out. The scroll we found in Claudius' room back in Rome was written in a combination of Etruscan and very early Latin, which suggests the builders may have had a hand in the creation of the real Rome, back on earth.
"No one really knows where the Etruscans came from; it's kind of an archaeological mystery. According to legend the first Etruscan ruler, Tarquinius Priscus, I think his name was, took control of Rome by peaceful means. At the time, Rome was just a settlement along the Tiber, on and around Palatine Hill, where the Imperial family still lives."
"I thought it had something to do with the Romulans."
"I'm going to pretend you didn't say that, Jack. Romulus and Remus were the legendary founders of Rome, yes, but Rome was not, as they say, built in a day. The Etruscans really got things rolling, introducing stone foundations for buildings, tiled roofs, writing, and a whole political, social, and military organization. After about a century, though, Tarquinius' family was overthrown and the Roman Republic was founded. Very revolutionary, for the times."
"Self rule and representation, rather than monarchy."
"Right."
"So maybe these Etruscan guys were, what, Goa'ulds?"
Daniel shook his head. "I don't think so. Remember P3R272?"
"That little room where the thing grabbed my head and filled it with the knowledge of the Ancients? Uh, yeah. Kinda hard to forget. You left my favorite ball cap behind."
"All of your ball caps are military issue, Jack," Daniel pointed out.
"Yeah, but I had just gotten that one broken in good. What about P3R272?"
"What if," the younger man paused, then sat forward, peering across the dim room with intent eyes, "What if the Etruscans were the Ancients? Or were influenced by them, somehow. Finding the Etruscan language here is like…finding Egyptian symbols in a Mayan tomb. Or on the Moon. There has to be some causative connection, and I don't think it's Goa'uld, in this case."
His mind was working all right, but Jack needed it working on a solid plan. "Which tells us what, exactly, Daniel? How does this help us?"
The younger man seemed to deflate, then perked up the next moment. "Well, if nothing else, once we get out of here, maybe we can find out where they went, and find some way to contact them. Thor hasn't exactly been forthcoming on that subject."
"True. First things first, though. Getting out of here."
The light went out of Daniel's eyes and he leaned back against the wall, closing them once more. "Sam and Teal'c will be back soon, Jack." He rested his head against the cool stones and drew his legs up, hugging his knees. "We'll be just fine."
The way he was drawing in reminded Jack of the marks he'd treated earlier on Daniel's back and arms. "Turning turtle again, Danny?" he asked in a soft voice. "We're gonna get out of here; sooner rather than later. Trust me."
In a quiet voice, Daniel answered, "I trust you, Jack. I just don't see many alternatives right now."
A flash of red drew Jack's eye to the window. "The night is young, Danny." He stood and hopped up on the bench to look outside. "You have a visitor, Doctor Jackson. Get up here." The scarred woman, Vispilia, pushed something into his hands before he could move out of the way, and then Daniel was whispering to her.
While the two conspired, Jack opened the bundle. Two long yardages of white cloth, two small daggers, and a clinking pouch.
"She says to be ready. What did she hand you?" Daniel hopped off of the bench and peered over Jack's shoulder.
"Couple of togas, it looks like, along with some weapons and money. Looks like we might get sprung." He handed one of the togas to Daniel and wrapped the other around himself, trying to mimic the folds in which the Magistrate had worn his. After a few tries, he gave up and just wrapped it like he had seen Belushi do it. Daniel, of course, looked very authentic when he was done.
"The daggers should be on cords; they go around the neck and tuck into the togas." He drew O'Neill into what was left of the light and looked him over critically. "Geeze, Jack, watch Animal House one too many times?" He twitched the folds of fabric into shape, then stepped back and looked him over again, ignoring the dirty look Jack was aiming at him. "Better. Now what?"
"I guess we wait." The sounds of the village and the more distant sounds of the campground were changing, he noticed. Getting louder. "Daniel, do you hear what I hear?"
"If you hear a riot, yes. Get up there and tell me what's going on!"
Jack gathered up the lengths of cloth and climbed on the bench again, peering out the window. The town square was lit by torchlight and was full of agitated people, shouting and milling around. "Daniel, what does 'Libertas' mean?"
"Um…freedom, or liberty. Is that what they're shouting?"
"Oh, yeah. You little agitator, you." He could smell wine in large amounts, too. Craning his neck a little he saw jugs being passed among the crowd. It looked a little like a combination of Mardi Gras and the Democratic National Convention of 1968 out there, and it was getting uglier the more inebriated the mob became.
The door behind them opened; Jack climbed down quickly and moved in front of Daniel. "I wish you'd stop doing that, Jack. I can't see anything when you do that."
It was Claudius. "Citius, citius!" He motioned them forward.
Daniel poked Jack in the back and said, "He said, quickly, Jack. Let's go." He dodged around O'Neill and slipped out the door.
"Cool."
The guards were slouched on the floor, asleep. "He says he drugged them." Daniel relayed as they hurried through the darkened halls. "Vispilia is working the crowd out front to occupy the rest of the soldiers. We have horses waiting out back." Jack put out a hand to steady him as he stumbled down a short flight of steps.
"Daniel, can you see well enough to ride?"
The younger man nodded. "My eyes have been getting a little better. Things are still pretty blurry, but you're wearing white. I'll just aim my horse at your back and follow you."
They emerged into the cool night at last, the sounds of the mob muffled by distance and the bulk of the building. "Whoa, wait a sec." Jack recognized the man holding the horses as the mild faced guard from the night before. "What's he doing here?"
The man smiled and handed him the reins to a big brown horse, responding to Daniel's questions with a short murmur. "Amantes sunt amentes."
"Daniel?" Tell me what's going on before I lose it, please.
"Ahm… He says, all lovers are lunatics." A flash of red veils rounded the corner of the building and the guard's smile grew warm and possessive. The scarred woman came to rest in his arms, smiling shyly at Daniel through her ruined face.
With a surprised smile, he greeted her, "Salve`, Vispilia."
"Salve`, Daniel." She looked worshipfully up at the man who embraced her and said, "Nemo in amore videt."
Jack knew that one: Love is blind. He waved off Daniel's translation and took the reins of one of the horses. "This is lovely, but we need to go. Now. Daniel, saddle up."
"Um, no saddles." There were leather pads strapped onto the horses' backs, and reins, but no saddles or stirrups. "Haven't been invented, yet. Fourth century A.D."
"They had 'em in Gladiator."
"Don't get me started, Jack. We can talk about historical inaccuracies in popular cinema on the road. Lets go."
Claudius stood on the steps, watching. "He not coming?" Jack asked as he clambered gracelessly onto his mount.
"Apparently not, um…." They spoke for a moment, and then Claudius went back inside the building. "He says to go on, he'll be fine. He's the emperor's nephew, Jack. They won't hurt him."
Jack hated to leave the man behind, but he belonged here, after all. "Maybe they couldn't find a third horse."
Daniel led his over to the steps and climbed on, taking the reins from Vispilia. "South?"
"Not yet. Follow me."
Wishing for less moon, or darker clothes, Jack guided his mount to the east, well out of the torch light in the town center and avoiding the campground entirely. They entered the tree line and spent a tense half-hour circling the village, angling south to hit the road well out of sight of the town. Except for the creak of the leather pads and the horses' dull plod, they traveled in silence. Jack felt a bit like Orpheus, and had to turn to make sure Daniel was still back there more than once.
The moon was high when they finally reached the lip of the valley and Jack started to feel safer. Not safe, quite yet, but safer.
"Jack, I think we've been missed." O'Neill listened as the wind brought the distant sounds of the village to them. Daniel was right, the tone had changed from the distant roar of the mob to cries of alarm. With a curse, he kicked his horse in the side and urged it to a gallop, hearing Daniel doing the same at his six. Hopefully, they had enough of a head start, they would make it fine, but now was a time for haste, rather than stealth.
The trees cleared before them and they were on the road, flying under the moon's bright glow. Jack crouched low over his horses' neck and kicked, willing the beast to go faster. The stacatto beat of Jackson's black gelding moved up to his side and they were racing, neck and neck, along the Appia. Daniel grinned over at him, elated to be free and moving toward home at last, and he had to grin back.
And then he was flying, falling, rolling painfully along the stones while his horse screamed behind him. Something in his leg snapped wetly and he was screaming too, rolling to a stop, holding his leg and hoping Danny had not stopped, please God, let him keep riding, keep going. There was shouting all around, and many footsteps, and then the face he least wanted to see was hovering over his. "Jack, oh God, Jack…." And then there was just nothing.
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The island was not large; a fifteen-minute walk brought Sam and Teal'c to the other side. They stood at the top of a short bluff and looked down on a crescent-moon beach, the sand white as snow, which embraced a cove of crystal blue water. "Wow. I wouldn't mind coming here on vacation," Sam said.
"Indeed. It is very tranquil." The sun was setting over the horizon, gold and fire. "Are not the sunsets on the true Earth more colorful, Sam?"
They started down the hill, following a well-worn path down to the white beach. "Unfortunately, yes. Pollution in our atmosphere makes the sunsets back home much more vivid. A minor compensation, I suppose."
There were a couple of houses up on the bluff, but none down near the water. A fisherman was spreading his nets out to dry, his catch probably already sold in the little village on the other side of the island. "Maybe he'll rent us his boat for a while. What do you think?"
"We have sufficient funds. I will make an attempt."
Teal'c went to talk to the man and Sam wandered down to the water, unlacing her sandals and slipping them off as she went. The water was warm as it lapped over her toes; gulls screeched overhead and dove in the falling tide, hunting in the shallows and tide pools the retreating waves left behind. Sam dug her toes into the sand, unearthing a startled clam, which quickly dug its way down again. So many details, she thought with wonder. Whoever made this place got most, if not all, of the details right. Right down to the clams.
The fisherman in tow, Teal'c came back. "Alcyon will hire us his boat for the evening. He also knows where there is a cave near here, although he tells me there is nothing there but old eel hatcheries."
"We'll give it a try, anyway. There's enough light, I think."
The fisherman helped them get the boat into the water, giving Teal'c directions as they went. Soon, they were rowing up the coastline, sheer walls of volcanic rock rising to one side and the glass like sea at the other. Fingers of rock reached up from the waters, the remnants of a violent geologic upheaval many centuries old, by the looks of them.
Rounding a series of these fingers, Sam saw a darkness in the rock face. "There it is. That must be the place." Teal'c looked over his shoulder and pulled harder on the oars, guiding them into the grotto.
The water lapped up on a small beach inside the cave and Sam hopped out and pulled the rowboat up on shore. It was dim inside the cave, but the remaining sunlight reflected off of the waters and lit the interior fairly well. They quartered the cavern and began looking. For what, Sam did not quite know.
"I really wish I had a flashlight. Or a klieg."
"A torch would also be useful."
"Nice cave, though. Roomy."
"There is nothing here, Sam."
"Keep looking."
It was a big cave, but there was nothing there apart from some old, dry tanks and a lot of pornographic graffiti. At least, she thought it was pornographic; the pictures were certainly vivid.
The light was waning; soon they would have to either head back or find some way to build a fire and spend the night here. Neither option was appealing. Sam was feeling the passage of time very keenly, despite the lack of a watch.
"MajorCarter! Sam!" Teal'c called from the back of the cave and Carter came running. He was standing before a faded mosaic, picked out in seashells and bits of tile, depicting symbols like those on the scroll and the Stargate. Time had knocked several fragments of the picture down, fading the rest, but it was just legible.
"All right, Teal'c!" She unrolled the scroll and compared it to the symbols, looking for patterns. "Wish Daniel were here," she said softly. "To read us the directions."
The same four symbols repeated themselves several times on the scroll. "How to implement, though." Tentatively, she pressed on the first symbol. Nothing happened. "Nothing ventured, I guess." She pressed the final three in order. Still nothing.
"The symbol of the Tau'ri is here, Sam." He reached up and pressed it firmly. Immediately, there was a rumbling around them and they were surrounded by floating rings and light and then were abruptly somewhere else entirely.
Sam's first thought was, I'm so glad Daniel was right. Her second was to crouch and look for Goa'uld or Jaffa. Ring devices were generally a bad thing in her experience.
"This is not a Goa'uld vessel, Sam. The markings are different." He bent and touched the dusty floor, leaving a visible mark. "I do not think anyone has been here for many years." They stepped away from the rings on the floor and began searching the room.
Silver-gray dust coated every surface, unmarred by hand or footprint. She really wished Daniel could be here to read the embossed squares of writing that covered the walls. Not hieroglyphics, nor cuneiform. Those she would recognize, even if she couldn't read them. These resembled the writing from Ernest Littlefield's planet, more than anything. Vertical lines of blocky text that she had no idea how to even begin to decipher.
"Well, there's power, anyway." Panels in the ceiling provided a pale light that reminded Sam of the cobbler's shop. "And where there's power, there are generators and people to maintain them. Let's go looking."
"I will take point." Teal'c ducked through the open archway ahead of her before Sam had a chance to object. Glaring at his back, she scurried after.
The room they walked into resembled a reception hall of some sort. It looked more extruded than built, with softly organic lines and warm, lively colors, now faded with the dust that seemed to cover everything. Honey-gold light filtered down from the distant ceiling, bright enough to chase all shadows from the room but not so bright as to be painful. There was no sign of technology, apart from the physical building, and no sign of life.
"If DanielJackson was here," Teal'c commented, looking around the room in fascination, "he would be calling out a greeting."
She gave the gawking man a gentle push and said, "Let's find our stuff. Does this place look familiar to you, Teal'c?"
Slowly, he nodded. "Indeed. These forms and lines are known to me, but I cannot say when I have seen them before." He ran his hand along the gently flowing form making up the back of a chair. "It is warm to the touch, Sam."
"Yeah, and have you noticed how quiet our voices are? Almost like the room is absorbing the sounds we make."
"It is."
Sam jumped and turned, looking for the owner of the soft voice. "Teal'c, you see anyone?" Her hands itched for the weight of her P-90. In lieu of more decisive weaponry, she fell into a defensive crouch. It was very reassuring to feel the solid bulk of the Jaffa at her back.
"I see no one. Show yourself, ha'taaka!"
"Oh, such language! I have not heard such words for a score of years." The voice came from everywhere, and was low and melodic. At first, Sam thought it was a young man's voice, then an old woman's. "Speak again, for I do long to hear." That had been her father's voice.
"Master Bra'tac?"
"Who is speaking!" Sam demanded. "We are peaceful explorers from the planet Earth, seeking help for our friends."
"Explorers? How wonderful!" a high-pitched voice exclaimed.
They were no longer alone in the room. A tiny dark-haired girl, no older than five or six, was leaning over the back of one of the flowing chairs. Her head was cupped in her hands, and she was drinking in the sight of Sam and Teal'c with wide green eyes.
The girl was dressed as Sam had seen the children dressed back in Rome. Her loose tunic was a pale blue and her feet were bare, and a little dirty. She was missing one of her front teeth, giving her a slight lisp. "Tell me about your travels. What are your names? Why do your friends need help? How come your shoes have horses on them? Why is that man angry at me?"
Sam looked up at Teal'c, who looked more surprised than anything. "He's not angry; he always looks like that."
Her teammate turned upon her with a hurt look. "I do not always appear angry. I was born with a grim visage." Turning back to the girl, he spoke in a much gentler voice than Sam had ever heard him use before. "What is your name, child? Where are your parents?"
"I do not have parents. Or I had one, but he is gone away. I am Culsu. Who are you two? Oh, I made a poem!" The child covered her mouth and giggled, bouncing with mirth.
Sam felt a grin stretch her face as well. "Well, I'm Major Samantha Carter, and this is Teal'c."
"Why is your name longer than his? He's lots bigger."
Teal'c went down on one knee before the child. "Your name is the same size as mine, Culsu. Yet you are far smaller."
"Oh! You are right!"
Grabbing the conversational initiative, Sam quickly said, "Are you here alone? Are there any grownups around? We need to get back to our friends quickly, and we might need help from the people here to do it."
"No people here." The girl climbed down off of the chair and climbed onto Teal'c's back, wrapping her thin arms around his neck. "Lift, please." Surprised, Teal'c stood, and the girl wrapped her legs around his waist. "Thank you." Culsu rested her chin on Teal'c's shoulder and regarded Sam very seriously. "Now we may speak eye to eye. Why are your friends in trouble?"
Appearances, she thought. This girl is more than she seems. "You were the one speaking before, in our minds. That was why we heard different people speaking. Are you reading our thoughts?"
With a pout to do any five-year-old proud, the child answered, "No. Too hard. I can speak into your minds, but not read them. It took a while to access your language and reconfigure my interface to match your needs. Now, how may I be of assistance?"
Startled, Teal'c swung the girl down to the ground. "You are no child. What are you?"
Sam placed a calming hand on his arm and addressed the little girl. "You're a computer interface?"
Culsu rolled her eyes, forcing a smile out of Sam. "In the simplest *possible * terms, yes. Can we get on with things? If you're not going to tell me about your travels, at least tell me what your friends are called."
"Doctor Daniel Jackson and Colonel Jack O'Neill. They're in trouble and we have to get back to them quickly with help."
"Goodness, Major Samantha Carter. You people use a lot of names! I like Teal'c's name better. Teeeel…ck. It makes my throat feel all hard and tickley. You came through the Chappa'ai, right?" She took Teal'c by the hand and began leading him away.
"To be honest, Culsu, I don't remember how we got here. I have vague memories of going through the Stargate -- the Chappa'ai -- and then waking up in the forest with the rest of the team, minus our gear and wearing… Holy Hannah."
The girl had led them into a long corridor that seemed to be made of glass. The sea was all around them, a deep sapphire blue, dimly lit with diffuse light from the corridor itself. The surface, far above, was dark with night. Schools of fish darted past in silvery waves, and a luminescent pod of jellyfish brushed the clear walls of the corridor in undulating billows. "Who is Hannah?" the girl asked. "And what is it to be holy?"
She's worse than Teal'c, thought Sam. "It's just an expression of surprise. This is beautiful, Culsu. Who built this place?"
"My father. Come quickly, now. You will remember soon and then you can tell me about your friends."
Flickering reflections from the sea-corridor lit the room they entered. "Lucerna!" the girl said, and the room was filled with amber light. "My father's workshop."
The room reminded Sam of her lab back on base. Not that anything scattered on the many work tables even remotely resembled any technology she had ever seen before, but in the general air of organized scientific chaos in which she usually found herself. Too many projects, not enough time. "Father tinkers," Culsu said, climbing up on a tall, mushroom-shaped stool.
"He is…was…a scientist?" Sam asked.
"Scientist, historian, teacher, alchemist, thief, murderer…. Father liked to keep busy." She was searching the table, rooting through piles of glowing filaments and what appeared to be sheets of clear crystal, as thin as paper.
At the child's description of her father, Teal'c stiffened. "Murderer? Whom did he kill?"
"Oh, lots of people. Here it is!" She grabbed a conical device and pointed it at Sam.
"MajorCarter!" Teal'c shoved the smaller woman out of the way and intercepted the beam of purple light which erupted from the tip of the device. With a choked off cry, he crumpled to the floor, holding his head.
"What did you do to him?" Sam knelt, fumbling for a pulse. He was still alive, but his pulse was rapid. Behind his closed eyelids, his eyes were moving as if he was dreaming. "What did you do?!"
The girl hopped down from the stool and hunkered down next to the fallen Jaffa. "He will be fine, Major Samantha Carter. He is remembering. In a few moments he will awaken and growl at me for frightening him, just as you are doing now." She handed the cone to Sam and then sat, crossing her legs and propping her elbows on her knees.
"Father was not a bad man," the girl said with a sigh. "He just wanted to find out things. He made the place up there and then took people and made them forget and put them in the world he had made in order to see what would happen. Then he let other people come and live in the world he had made, but he made them forget too well and they never came back to go home again.
"Then Father left, or maybe he forgot, too. He told me what to do, though, if anyone came through the Chappa'ai. Make them forget and put them into the world. Then, if they came back, make them remember and let them go home. You are the first, though."
The little dark-haired girl smiled suddenly, her eyes alight with mischief. "Can I tell you a secret, Major Samantha Carter?"
Her mind whirling, Carter nodded.
Culsu took Sam's ear in her little fingers and pulled her down to whisper, "I was very naughty. I did not make you or your friends forget all the way, like Father instructed." She giggled then, covering her mouth with her hands and kicking her heels on the floor.
This was not a database interface, Sam decided. This was a mischievous little girl who had been alone far too long. "Would you like to sit in my lap while we wait for Teal'c to wake up?" she offered.
This made the girl grin ear to ear, and Sam found herself smiling in response. With an eager nod, Culsu scooted until she was cradled in the hollow of Sam's crossed legs and surrounded by her loosely draped arms. "I've got a loose tooth," the girl announced, wiggling it with her tongue.
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With an eerily human scream, Jack's horse toppled in mid-gallop, sending his rider flying without warning. Daniel pulled hard on the reins of his gelding in alarm, almost toppling himself as the horse reared and pranced to a stop. He was on the ground before the animal stopped moving, stumbling back towards his fallen friend.
O'Neill was crumpled on the paving stones, clutching his leg and making inarticulate sounds of pain that tore straight to Daniel's gut. He kneeled next to Jack, looking for injuries. There was movement in the night, all around them, but he ignored it for now. "Jack, Oh God, Jack…." His right leg was horribly wrong, sickeningly misshapen. Behind them, the horse screamed like a lost soul, then was abruptly silenced.
Just as suddenly, Jack stilled. His eyes rolled back and he just slumped under Daniel's hands, unconscious. "Thank heavens for that," Daniel muttered.
"//Hello, caronis,//" Hastatus' hated voice hissed in his ear. Startled, Daniel looked up to see the hand that knocked him sprawling. Pain flared across his cheek and he tasted copper; his head spinning, Daniel climbed to his feet and wiped his mouth. Caronis. Carrion. Lovely.
"//I'm not dead yet, Hastatus.//"
Hastatus just laughed as soldiers closed around Daniel, tying his hands before him and relieving him of the dagger around his neck. The soldiers, Praetorians no doubt dragged here from Rome by the feckless Caligula, set about securing the prisoners. They hauled Jack up over the withers of Daniel's erstwhile mount and tied him securely. He groaned softly once or twice but did not regain consciousness.
One of the expressionless soldiers tied a length of rope around Daniel's wrists, then mounted his horse, giving the bound man a tug that almost sent him sprawling once again. Knowing better than to object, Daniel kept his eyes down and tried to watch his footing as the procession got underway. He looked over his shoulder once or twice, trying to check on Jack, but it was futile. The night, his eyes, and being constantly tugged made looking anywhere but at his feet a risky prospect at best.
The moon was setting as they neared the village, but there was sufficient light yet to see Hastatus' bulky form striding to one side of the soldier's ranks. "//Caronis!//" the man exclaimed, catching Daniel's tired attention. He skipped forward and leaned against a dark post, approximately seven feet tall. "//I'll see you in the morning, caronis.//"
The stipe. Daniel's gaze flicked at it then focused on the ground once again. Hastatus laughed, a harsh, mad sound in the still night. Daniel felt a chill run down his spine, but kept his gaze down. One of the soldiers called for silence, and another half-drew his gladius. With a final chuckle, Hastatus complied.
He fell into step with the stumbling prisoner and said, conversationally, "//I have asked my master to be allowed to assist in your execution. This has been granted to me. Remember our time under the willow, caronis?//"
Daniel kept his eyes on the uneven paving stones, and did not respond.
"//I remember. I remember how you rolled like a dog in the dirt, and yelped like a child. Your brother was the same way, weak and puling. Pity about his leg; he will not survive the crux for long. He will watch you beg for death first, though, and know that you hate him for causing your pain. And you will suffer for days, caronis. I will mark you but lightly before you carry the patibulum back up this hill, I promise you.//"
Daniel turned his head and stared at Hastatus. "//Where did you learn to hate like this?//" Part of him just wanted to shut up the taunting threats which were all to likely to be made good at first light. Part of him really wanted to know, though. Hatred like this was not natural; it was a conditioned response to something in the man's life.
The first part of his wish was granted. Hastatus shut up. They walked on in silence, entering the much-subdued village. As they approached the curia, though, the man spoke again. In a still voice that brought back memories of Giza, Hastatus said, "**I learned to hate at the hands of those who took me from my mother when I was a boy and chained me to an auction block, far from my home. Harundo was sold to Callas at the same time as I, and we were brothers in all but blood from that day until the day of his death. Good night, carrion.**" He bowed mockingly and walked into the darkening night.
"oh." Daniel was sort of sorry he'd asked. The man had done too much, hurt Jack too much to allow forgiveness. Now, though, Daniel found himself beginning to understand the man. He did not want this understanding, this empathy. He had seen the human side of his enemy and found a little boy who reminded Daniel too much of himself, torn from his parents and set into a world that was, at best, indifferent.
The soldiers untied Jack and carried him into the curia, boneless as a sack of meal. Daniel was shoved the same direction and, at length, found himself in the same cell they'd left a few short hours ago. Jack had been tumbled to the ground and left there, his broken limb askew and already swelling. The soldier was leaving, closing the door and taking the last of the light with him when Daniel realized they were going to leave his hands tied.
"Ah, 'scuse me! //Please…a boon?//" The soldier paused at the door, looking bored. "//My friend's leg is broken. Could you untie my hands so that I can tend to him?//"
The soldier just laughed, then pulled the door shut, leaving the room in almost total darkness. Daniel looked at the closed door for a moment in disbelief, then turned and began groping his way forward with his foot. "I hate this place. I'll never complain about the military mindset again."
A low groan near his feet made him stumble backwards. He hadn't realized he was that close. The back of the bench hit his calves and he sat suddenly, making the rickety thing creak and shift alarmingly. "Jack? You awake?" He scrambled to his feet again and nudged his foot forward he made contact.
"Oh, ow…unfortunately…fuck…. What happened?" Awkwardly, Daniel helped him to lie flat, pillowing O'Neill's head on one of the folded cushions. His eyes were adjusting to the dim light finally, and he could see the ominous swelling of the broken leg as compared to the whole one. It was nearly twice as big, and looked darker, although it was very hard to tell.
"Hastatus." Daniel started working on the knots that held his hands together, picking them apart with his teeth. "He was waiting, must have figured which direction we'd go and set up a couple of miles outside of town." The ropes were loosening, he thought, and kept chewing and spitting out bits of fiber.
Jack was quiet, his harsh breathing the only clue he was still awake and in pain. "Why?" he asked suddenly, startling the younger man.
Shrugging off the ropes at last, Daniel knelt and began examining Jack's leg, by touch and limited sight. This set off a fresh round of curses and Jack tried weakly to bat Daniel's hands away.
"I think it's a simple fracture, Jack, but it's hard to tell in this light. Think you can make it up to the bench?" He flattened the wrinkled blanket and then stooped to get a shoulder under Jack's arm. "Short hop. Come on. Warmer than the floor." He was worried about shock.
"Danny…wait…oh crapcrapcrapcrapcrapCRAP!" Daniel folded the blanket over the shivering man, tucking him in securely to hold in the body heat, and then held the waterskin to his lips.
"Drink this. You need the fluids."
The warmth, water, and stillness helped a lot. Jack still shivered, but he was becoming more aware by the moment. "Hastatus ambushed us? Shoulda seen that coming."
Daniel found the remains of Vispilia's numbing salve and began delicately working it into the broken limb. "Maybe. But we could just as easily come out of the forest beyond him. It was a chance, and we almost made it."
"Daniel, why did you stop?" Jack's voice was harsh in the darkness, and Daniel could not read his face. Angry? Sad? In pain?
"What do you mean? I had to. You would have stopped for me. I couldn't leave you behind."
Jack turned his head away and closed his eyes, blotting out Daniel's face, his eyes. "Don't fool yourself, Doctor Jackson. If the circumstance had been reversed, I'd be long gone from here. I'd regret it like hell, but I would not hesitate. I expect the same of you, if an opportunity presents itself this morning."
He was pale, sweating and clammy. Daniel unwound his toga and began tearing strips from it, then draped the rest over Jack's shivering body. "I have to immobilize your leg, Jack, before they start dragging you around and doing more damage. Should I try to set it?" Wondering what he would use for splints, he looked around the cell and realized it was getting brighter. The sliver of sky he could see had turned a deep gray. It was morning.
"Hell no, don't try to set it. Did you hear what I said, Jackson?"
The other bench, he decided. Aiming a sharp kick, he began breaking it down to its boards, being careful of nails. "I heard you." Before long he had two planks of roughly similar length. "Don't try to set it. I won't. I'm going to straighten your leg and splint it. That's all." He wondered why Jack was looking so angry, then shrugged it off. The man had a lot on his mind right now.
"That's not what I mean, Daniel, and you know it. If you get a chance, make a run for it."
"No. Reach up and grab the end of the bench, Jack. I'm going to try to do this all at once." He took the boards and laid them alongside the broken leg and looped the strips from the toga underneath, tying them loosely.
"What do you mean, 'no'? This isn't a democracy, Danny; that was an order."
Daniel checked to make sure everything was ready. "Okay, grab the end of the bench. On three, I'm going to straighten your leg out. Ready?"
"Did you hear me, Daniel?"
"Yes. One."
Jack glared. "So…?"
"No. Two."
Daniel took a firm grip on Jack's foot and ankle; alarmed, Jack reached up and grabbed the edge of the bench above his head. "Damn it, Daniel! Why not?"
"Three."
One hard pull, a scream, and two tugs and the deed was done. Wiping moisture from his cheek, Daniel secured the splint with two more lengths of cloth, tucking in the loose ends. He checked for a pulse on top of Jack's foot and relaxed slightly when he found one. Jack was trying very hard not to move at all, breathing through the pain until it subsided to a tolerable level.
He was still for so long, Daniel began to worry. "Jack? You still with me?"
"Yashureyoubecha…oh FUCK that hurt!" Jack opened one, slightly glassy eye, and said, "I thought you weren't gonna try to set it."
"I didn't. I just flattened the angle a bit." Daniel gingerly lifted the immobilized leg and settled it on the folded pad. He flicked a glance at the sky. It was getting brighter, going to be a beautiful day. "They're coming for me soon, Jack." He piled the leftover bread and the waterskin on the floor within reach.
"At which time you're going to make a run for it."
"I told you, Jack. No. No running. Not unless I can drag your heavy ass with me, and I don't think I'll get too far like that."
Jack clapped both hands over his face and made a frustrated noise. Daniel hid a smile; he loved provoking that sound, though he'd never admit to it. "Just go, Jackson. I'm expendable."
"No!" The denial was ringing in the still morning air before Daniel quite knew what he was going to say. "Not expendable! None of you are! Not you, not Sam, not Teal'c. None. Of. You. Get me, O'Neill?" Daniel stood and walked toward the pile of rubble left over from his bench destruction. He kicked a board and leg that had remained connected somehow, sending them clattering against the stone wall.
The joint did not break. The board and leg remained as strongly affixed as ever. Daniel bent and scooped up the two scraps of wood and shook them at Jack. "This is why, O'Neill. This is us!" He tossed the scraps into the corner and dared his Colonel, silently, to comment.
"We're…uh…a broken bench?"
Daniel shook his head, "Connected, you ass. We're connected. And that's why I'm not going anywhere without you." Realizing he was shouting in Jack's face, Daniel's anger fled. He smiled sheepishly and sank to the floor, leaning on the bench on which Jack was resting. "Sorry. It's just…you're family. Hastatus was right about that at least."
Jack reached out and grabbed Daniel's shoulder, shaking him gently. "Danny do you have any idea what they're gonna do to you?"
Daniel glanced over his shoulder and just nodded. "Archaeologist. I probably know more exactly than you do what is about to happen. And yes, I'm very frightened." He was, he realized, terrified. Strangely, he was also calm. There was no choice in this so, as with so much in his life, he would endure and survive until it was over. Recently he had acquired people who would help him put his body and soul back together, when everything was done, so he wouldn't have to do it alone. It was a distinct improvement and a bittersweet perk to being a member of this strange family.
"Jack, it's a very simple equation. Sam and Teal'c will be at least two more days, even if they've already started back. A healthy man can survive up to seven days. The actual cause of death in most cases is asphyxia, when the pain of pushing up to breathe becomes overwhelming and the vic…person is exhausted. With one of your legs busted, you won't be able to breathe and you'd die within hours." Daniel was surprised to hear his voice break. He touched his face and it came away wet. Scrubbing it dry before Jack noticed, he said, "So, the obvious candidate to go first is me."
He turned and faced O'Neill then, who was looking at him with disbelieving, anguished eyes. The older man reached out and wiped a stray tear away. Daniel blushed furiously and turned away but was stopped. Jack grabbed the back of his neck, forcing eye contact, and said, "It's my job, god damn it. Not yours. You're a civilian, a scientist, and we can't lose you. I can't lose you."
"You won't. That's the plan. I hang on until the cavalry comes, then we go home. End of discussion."
The cell door opened as if on cue, and three soldiers came in, filling the room to capacity. The centurion said, "//It is time. I am to ask which will be first.//"
Daniel stood and said, "//I am.//" He looked down at O'Neill. "Two days, Jack. Sam and Teal'c will be back in two days, three tops. See you soon."
"See you soon, Danny."
Knowing it had to be killing Jack to just let him walk out, Daniel went quickly and quietly, not looking back. Despite the fact that there was no conceivable way to help him, Jack would be tearing himself up over not fighting the guards, over missing the ambush, over everything. Jack was good at guilt.
The guards didn't bother tying his hands, evidently deciding a crushing grip on either arm to be sufficient to prevent escape. They dragged him up the stairs and through the marble halls of the curia, past the busts of the imperial family, and into the bright light of morning. The town square was almost empty; most of the villagers were probably hung over, Daniel surmised, and the transient population had moved on for the day. No risk of a riot today, unfortunately. That might have delayed things a while longer.
The town center was where most punishments were carried out, historically speaking, he recalled. A stout post stood in the exact center of the town square, thrusting up like a totemic phallus toward the cloudless sky. There were people clustered around the post and, though Daniel could not make out faces at this distance, he could hear Claudius' stammer quite clearly and was glad the Roman had escaped custody.
Drawing closer, Daniel saw the Magistrate, Hastatus, and a bored and yawning Caligula waiting with the stuttering man. "//Good morning, gentlemen. You know, if you wanted to get some more sleep, Little Boots,//" Daniel addressed Caligula, "//I'd be glad to go back to my nice cell for a few more days.//"
Claudius hid a smile as Caligula glared at Daniel. Evidently having had enough of the younger Roman's temper, the Magistrate stepped in hurriedly. "//Daniel, Tiberius Claudius has spoken with me at length regarding your case. While I cannot overturn your conviction, he has convinced me that he did, indeed, free you on the road. While such an action is unusual, it has been the law of Rome to assume a man to be free if there is the slightest doubt of his status.//"
The Magistrate drew his own belt dagger and offered it, hilt first, to Daniel. The guards released his aching arms and took a step back. "//I offer you an honorable death, Daniel. One that will bring no shame to your family and which will certainly be less painful and ignominious than the one offered by the cross.//" To the Magistrate's left, Hastatus made a strangled noise of protest, but quieted at the official's glance. "//Well? Will you accept the mercy of the law?//"
Claudius looked uncomfortable once again, unsure. Knowing he had done his best, Daniel nodded his thanks to his friend, but pushed the dagger away with his open palm. "//I cannot accept, Honorable Timos. Tiberius Claudius has spoken falsehood on my behalf, though not intentionally. I was able to dupe him into thinking I was free, and that he had freed me himself.//"
"//Poor Uncle Clau-Clau,//" Caligula said, laughing. "//Did you dip into his purse while he slept and buy your way free? Why did you not simply kill him as he slept? That is what I would have done.//"
"//That…never occurred to me.//" Daniel recalled that Caligula had been, would be, killed by his own Praetorian guard, in conspiracy with key senators, a few years into his disastrous reign. A few years too late, in Daniel's opinion and then wondered when he had gotten so very bloody minded. "//At any rate, I am no citizen, Honorable Timos. I thank you for your offer, though.// And Sam and Teal'c will be here soon."
"//What?//" The Magistrate tucked his dagger back into its sheath, looking confused.
Looking at Claudius, Daniel said, "//It is an ancient blessing. In time of need.// Sam and Teal'c will be back soon. Go to Jack, keep him safe." He saw understanding dawn on the Roman's face and saw him edge back toward the curia, and then he was back in the hands of the guards.
They stripped him of his tunic and loincloth. The cool air of the morning made Daniel shiver, though his skin was hot with embarrassment. He was tied to the pole in the town center, face first, his arms stretched high above his head. Feeling his exposure keenly, he looked around myopically and noted that the town square was filling up. He heard the sound of children playing, and mothers scolding, and pressed himself into the splintered wood of the post, hiding as best he could.
The Magistrate called for silence and read the charges and the sentence. There was an approving murmur from the crowd, to Daniel's surprise. The guard on his left muttered, "//Mob's fickle. Cheering for you one day, throwing things the rest. Don't take this personal, boy.//" His words startled a laugh out of Daniel, and the guard looked at him oddly. "//You touched in the head, lad?//"
"//No. Just feeling a little fey.//" This was a period of grace, of stillness, and Daniel found himself relishing it. It would be over soon enough. He had not been exaggerating when he told Jack he knew what was coming.
First he would be flogged, then he would be forced to carry his cross bar up the hill to the stipes. There, Callas' nails would be hammered through the small bones of his wrists, pinning him to the patibulum. Probably, they would tie his feet, saving the other two of Callas' spikes for Jack. After that, the struggle for breath would start, and the long wait. Provided Hastatus did not half kill him with the flagellum, he would survive for five or six days before succumbing to exhaustion.
Plenty of time for Sam and Teal'c to get their slow butts back here and pull them the hell out of this mess.
The tenor of the crowd changed, growing hushed. Hastatus had taken his place, standing just within Daniel's line of sight, behind and to the left. The big man held a simple flagellum in his hand, and wore an expression of gloating anticipation. Fighting the urge to turn away, to close his eyes, Daniel caught the man's gaze and held it, unflinching. "**I am no slave to cower before you, Hastatus. I am afraid, but my soul is free. You are slave to your hatred. Which of us is less free? **"
The gloating expression vanished, replaced by anger and, of all things, confusion. Daniel smiled serenely and turned away then, wondering at himself. Things were about to get very bad, and he was taunting the devil to do his worst. "Definitely been spending too much time around Jack," he muttered.
Then there was no breath for words, no thought, nothing but pain and fire as blow after searing blow landed on his bare skin. He lost his footing at one point, shortly after his voice went hoarse from screaming, and hung helplessly from the post by his wrists. Hastatus was methodical, moving down his back, over his buttocks, to his legs, then back up the other side, painting lines of agony with his harsh brush.
Somewhere around eighteen, Daniel lost count.
Sometime after he screamed his voice away, Hastatus stopped.
After a few moments, it dawned on Daniel that it was over. A few moments later, another thought filtered sluggishly through his mind, and he decided his wrists would hurt less if he tried to stand. The task was tremendous, almost too much to accomplish, but he decided to try. His back and shoulders screamed at him as he moved his legs, though, and he gave up the idea as completely unworkable.
The ground came up to meet him as the decision was taken from him. Someone, he reasoned slowly, must have cut the ropes. He gave up thinking then, just glad to lie on his side on the soiled, churned, bloody ground with no one hitting him. Bliss. Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, just for a moment, and the world slipped away.
It came back with a wet rush as one of the guards poured a bucket of water on his back, and Daniel awoke with a painful jolt. Sweat and blood combined with the water, trickling agony into every lash and cut. If he had a voice left, Daniel would have screamed. All that came out was a pinched groan.
"//Get up.//" The centurion hauled him to his feet and held him there while the world turned around him in slow, dizzying jerks. He felt so weak, so tired. Everything hurt, hurt worse than anything he'd ever experienced. His brain felt like mush and he couldn't seem to draw a deep breath. Every time he tried, his back would stab painfully and catch him short. After a few minutes, though, the worst died down and he was able to stand on his own. Not straight, but he was standing.
He slowly became aware of sound again, apart from his own harsh breathing. The crowd was shouting, laughing, and yelling things. With the little bit of his brain that was still working, he tried to translate what they were saying, but gave it up after just a few minutes. This was probably the entertainment highlight of the month, he thought, and tried to stand a little straighter, swaying. He wished for something to cover himself; the kids shouldn't be seeing this horror-show. "Perpetrates the system of violence against the individual…" he muttered.
"//What?//" The centurion at his side asked. Daniel just shook his head tiredly. Another period of grace, he thought.
It was over in the next breath. Two soldiers approached, carrying a long, roughly hewn log. They laid it across Daniel's shoulders, making him stagger and nearly fall under its weight. When he had his feet once again, they yanked his arms back and over the top of the patibulum and tied them in place. The wood ground into his raw skin, forcing a whispered cry from his bitten, dry lips. It was happening. It was too real.
Bent nearly double with the weight of the thing, Daniel stayed upright mainly by force of will and by the knowledge of how much more it would hurt his back and arms if he fell at this point. A hard shove to get him moving nearly undid him, and he stumbled painfully forward. The centurion led the procession out of the town square. Daniel blinked sweat from his smarting eyes and kept them focused on the man's back. He concentrated on placing one foot before the other; he would not think about what was at the end of this little hike.
Despite the horrific weight bearing down on his raw shoulders, Daniel slowed his footsteps. Oddly enough, this was another period of grace. It would end when they reached the stipes.
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Danae, Karen, and Lems Betad the first bit, but I got impatient and beta'd the rest myself. Thank you to everyone who commented or made suggestions as this sucker was going up on SG1HC.
And a big big thank you to Stacey of the rabid plot bunnies. You kept me going, ma'am.
September 9, 2001 © 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.