Hope Escapes
Extracting myself from a yellow tree with sharp nasty little spiky branches without benefit of legs, just confirmed to me why I HATED TREES.
Having finally freed myself from the clutches of ‘The Day of the Triffids’ extra, I checked myself out. Apart from blurred vision, a great honking headache probably resulting from the bump on the back of my head, and a distressing inability to even twitch some very important parts of my body, everything was fine.
Elbows I could do, so I made a complete reconnaissance of the immediate area.
Trees, trees everywhere nor any drop to drink.
Very amusing. Or it would be if it weren’t so true. I had very limited choices. One – lie here and wait for rescue. Two – crawl around and rescue myself, hopefully running across some water while doing so.
There was a three.
Fall asleep.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
I thought you weren’t meant to sleep with head injuries?
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
Oh crap!
That is like, just…ewwwww!
One aspect of paralysis that reared its ugly head while I was asleep.
Now I really did need to find some water.
Crawling. Crawling.
Ewwwww! Okay – have to stop doing that, Jack. It’s not like you’ve had anything to eat or drink.
Crawling. Crawling. Crawl….
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
Now it’s night and hey, guess what! I can’t damn well sleep. I suppose it was all those naps I kept taking. I’ve gone miles. I’m sure I have. Must have.
Right.
I’ll formulate a plan.
First objective – water.
Second – find a stargate. There has to be one somewhere. If you are experimenting with new transporter technology, you have to leave yourself an alternative means of travel. Don’t you? Of course, it’s probably in the equivalent of Antarctica.
That nifty healing power would have come in handy right now, but no, I had to lose it just in time to leave myself totally helpless. And all this crawling wasn’t doing my legs any good at all.
I was lucky I still had my pack, because the cuts on my legs from the stones I had travelled across all day needed to be cleaned, even if I couldn’t feel them. The shredded and soiled pants took when seemed hours to get off, but I finally managed it and did what little I could to doctor myself. Then I forced myself to choke down an energy bar, and took a few careful mouthfuls of water from my canteen, swallowing a couple of painkillers along with it. Then I got out my sleeping bag, unzipped it, and wrapped myself in it as tightly as possible.
Forget keeping watch for natives.
Forget staying awake with a concussion.
I was going to sleep, and when I woke up, everything would sort itself out.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
I woke with a much clearer head, and the realisation that using my sleeping bag when I had absolutely no control over my basic bodily functions was not the cleverest idea I had ever had.
It was time to get my act together.
I started by doing what I should have done the day before, if I had been thinking more clearly. I switched my radio on and sent a message across all frequencies. No reply but static.
Then I tried the next obvious thing.
“Help!”
Ten minutes, and a sore throat later, I came to the conclusion that there was no one within hearing range of my voice.
I did a proper survey of my injuries, finding a large swelling on the middle of my back, down near my waist. There didn’t seem to be any open wounds so I rebandaged my legs and used some strips from a spare T-shirt to tie them together as tightly as possible. I then wrapped the sleeping bag around my lower body, using some duct tape to attach it. Not only would it protect me from further injury for a while, there was no way I was going to be covering myself with that bag any time soon, especially the way it smelled.
Preparations made, I took my compass from my jacket pocket, and crossing my fingers this planet had a magnetic field similar to that of Earth, worked out a heading. With a few skinned elbows, I set off to see what there was to see.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
Day six on Planet Monotonous dawned just the same as the others. On the plus side, I had found a stream and managed to not drown myself while washing some of the muck off. I’d even had a go at cleaning my sleeping bag, napping on a warm rock at the side of the water while it dried enough to be usable. I decided to make camp there for a few days, and see if the rest did me any good.
Because if it didn’t, I knew I was in big trouble.
And now it was lunchtime, and I was down to my last MRE.
It was then that the pain began.
At first it was just a few twinges. Twinges that made me almost delirious with excitement. They were the first feelings I’d had below the waist for almost a week. I poked and prodded my legs, trying to find exactly where the pain from coming from, but it was elusive, seemingly moving just as my fingers found the spot. After a while, the sensation vanished
Still, it was a positive sign.
Wasn’t it?
A few hours later, I wondered why I had ever thought pain to be something positive. Every muscle in my legs spasmed violently as the numbness wore off. Then the cuts and bruises I had inflicted on my body made themselves known with an agony that would have been wonderful if it wasn’t so damned terrible.
I lost my breakfast when the stomach cramps began.
Several hours later, and on the other side of dawn, I lay like a wrung out towel, flexing my left foot and watching the movement of my boot with a fascination normally reserved for hockey matches.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
Day eight on Planet Monotonous, and I was just about able to walk twenty yards without stumbling. My progress had been slow, and all dexterity hadn’t yet returned, but I was positive it would. One big plus was that certain muscles seemed to be back to normal and I didn’t have the need to wash myself down every hour or so. So now, clean clothes, sleeping bag rolled up and stowed away, P-90 in hand instead of looped across my back, and the body of a freshly trapped furry creature hanging from my belt, and Jack O’Neill was on a mission.
To reach the top of that big hill in the far distance.
The general climbed over the mountain, the general climbed over the mountain, the general climbed over the mountain, to see what he could see.
I sang and staggered, staggered and sang.
Wonder what’s going on back at the SGC. I was sure Carter and the others got sent home. I was certain of it. I had to be, or there would really be no point in continuing.
The general climbed over the mountain and what do you think he saw?
Climbing down the other side was more of a semi controlled roll, but it sure was quicker than the getting up the top had been. I dusted myself off and shook the grass from my hair, only needing to steady myself with one hand against one of those ever present yellow trees while I did so.
The ruins were small by Ancient standards, somewhat like a miniaturised version of the ones we had left in the hands of the Goa’uld, but they were in good repair. I headed for the building in the middle of a small square, once obviously flagged by even stones, but now a sea of waving greenery that reminded me much too much of that psychedelic lettuce back on that moon I was stranded on with Maybourne.
My heart began pounding when I saw the lines of inscription circling the columns and weaving up the steps at the front of the building, and it wasn’t because of exhaustion. I rubbed a hand across my tired eyes, and started reading.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
It had been my fault.
I sipped the coffee and gnawed at the bone in my other hand, the glow from the fire warming my freezing hands. The weather had gotten steadily colder these last few days and I was glad for the warmth of my sleeping bag wrapped around my shoulders.
My reading had been very informative, leading me to the small device now lying next to me by the fire after thousands of years hidden behind a panel. A users’ manual for the new transporters. And an explanation of why they had been abandoned.
I had been right – the others were all safely back home – or I was as certain as I could be that they were. The transporter in the trap was set to send trespassers back to wherever they wanted to go, a destination found by scanning their minds. Whatever it had found in my mind must have confused it, maybe it was the remnants of the Ancient download, maybe it was a decided lack of enthusiasm for the paperwork waiting for me when I got back to my office, maybe it was the thoughts of no more gate travel, but the machine had sent me not home, but to a ‘safehouse’. The next step would have been a welcoming committee, ready and willing to work out the correct destination of any traveller.
Unfortunately the welcome committee had shut up shop and gone home untold years before, carelessly leaving their unpredictable technology lying around for anyone to find, their landing platforms overgrown with trees just waiting to leap out and attack unsuspecting visitors.
There was one other thing I had found out. The Stargate on this planet was on another continent across miles of ocean. Now I could make like Thor Heyerdahl and build a raft, or I could work out how to make the transporter here operate.
Not a hard choice.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
Day twelve on Planet Monotonous and the lettuce was starting to look very appealing. The small furry animals trembled at the sight of General Jack O’Neill, mighty hunter.
I would give anything for a bowl of fruit loops.
Or I could just eat the lettuce and maybe go fruit loopy.
But it would be fun.
I bent back to my task, the symbols within the panel now changed from dull, flat brown, to a glowing gold. A few more adjustments, my hands moving by instinct alone, and it was ready.
I gathered up my stuff, washing in a nearby pool, and shaving carefully, before putting on my last set of clean trousers. A last look around to check I had forgotten nothing, and I was as prepared as I ever would be.
So why did I hesitate?
Even if I didn’t get home, surely anywhere was better than being stuck here for the rest of my life?
I stepped up on the platform, its surface raised barely an inch above the surrounding stones, but still I hesitated.
What if I got sent back to the planet I had come from, and straight into the welcoming arms of the System Lords?
What if I found myself back across the mountain, wrapped around the same tree?
I concentrated, trying to clear my mind of distractions.
I thought of Earth. Of the clear water in front of my cabin. Of the sunset from my window at home. Of the faces of my friends. I thought of the spy hidden amongst us.
There’s no place like home. There’s no place like home.
I locked those memories down deep and pressed the buttons.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
Okaaaay!
This was different.
Ouch! Crap!
Whatever that was I just walked into was almost as hard and sharp as those damned triffid trees. The jolt sent my right leg trembling and I reached a hand out to catch myself before I fell. My shaky limbs were barely up to climbing a few steps, let alone fumbling around in the pitch darkness.
I groped with my other hand, trying to work out where I was just by the feel of the thing I was holding so tightly onto.
Hard, unyielding, and cold. Not a rock, much too smooth to be a rock. It was smooth enough to be probably man – or alien – made. I moved my hand cautiously along the edge, running my fingertips over it until they came to a sharp right angle turn. All right. It was definitely not natural. More boldly, I stretched out and felt across the top of its surface. My hand hit a …
TV remote?
That was one object I could recognise with my eyes shut.
What the hell?
I picked it up, pressed the operate button, and turned slowly with it extended in front of me.
I was probably activating some Ancient technology that would leap up and bite me in the ass.
A soft click and sudden light.
Oh for crying out loud! Sesame Street! I already knew what words started with the letter ‘C”, thank you very much.
Cabin. That was one.
My cabin.
I was standing in the middle of the main room, holding on to the table for dear life and staring at a large fluffy bird talking to some kid.
After my initial stunned surprise, I realised how logical it was. The Ancient transporter sent the user to wherever he wanted to go. So here I was, surrounded by the peace and tranquillity of a Minnesota night, with everything I needed right at my fingertips. It was a matter of moments before I was back on the old comfortable lounge chair, feet up on the coffee table, cold beer in hand.
Life was good.
Life was also shouting at me to pay attention.
With a sigh, I snapped up the phone with my free hand, mentally running through my options. Calling the SGC was out. The last thing I wanted was news of my return to get back to the spy. No – there was only one person I could rely on to handle this correctly.
I dialled, hoping like hell he was home. But at three in the morning, where else would he be? Living it up in the Washington nightclubs? I didn’t think so.
At the sound of the sleepy voice that answered the phone, a hint of annoyance hiding behind a professional concern, I let out a breath I hadn’t even known I was holding.
“Hammond.”
“George, it’s me, Jack O’Neill.”
His answer confirmed that I had made the right choice.
“Prove it.”
“What, like I did back in 1969? I don’t really have time to do that, George.” I paused, hearing only a soft breath from the other end of the line. “Here’s the problem. There’s a Goa’uld spy in the SGC, so any communication with the base is compromised. I’m the only one who knows who that spy is, and as far as they are concerned I’m lost somewhere offworld. Well, I’m not, I’m back, and I want to get that snakehead loving bastard off my base.”
Hammond’s calm tones interrupted what was fast becoming me losing it big time. “Well, you certainly sound like Jack O’Neill.”
“I’m as much Jack O’Neill as I’ll ever be, George. Now I don’t think we want too many people to know I’m back, so what say you meet me here and debrief me. I’m at my cabin”
“Your cabin?” I could almost see the frown of puzzlement on his face. “All right, son. You stay put, and I’ll be there as soon as possible.”
I finished the conversation and walked stiffly to my bedroom, falling fully dressed onto the bed. The last thing I heard was the sound of wind in the trees, and I gave thanks that they weren’t yellow.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
I was showered and changed into an old pair of jeans and a shirt I normally wore for fishing by the time General Hammond showed up. I answered the knock to find a pistol shoved in my face and the unsmiling features of Major Paul Davis glaring at me suspiciously. It was no more than I would have expected, given the circumstances, so I made myself relax, and not disarm him, easy though it would have been,
It didn’t take long to convince them I was who I said I was, and although the doctor accompanying them took a sample to test my DNA, it was obvious they were satisfied. The Special Forces team put away their weapons and took up position outside, plainly wondering what all the fuss was about, leaving only George, Davis, and the doctor inside.
I eyed the doctor out of the corner of my eye, startled by her remarkable resemblance to Janet Fraiser. Her brown hair was tied severely back, but her eyes held a twinkle missing from those of Doctor Roberts.
“General O’Neill, I don’t think you’ve meet Doctor Smith.” Hammond made the introduction a little late considering she had just had her hand inside my mouth.
I smiled. “Doctor, pleased to met you.”
She seemed a little uncertain and I wondered just how much she had been told, but Hammond must trust her or she wouldn’t be here.
“Do you have any injuries, sir? I noticed a few scratches on your hands.” Her voice was soft, and very doctor-like. Or at least the Marcus Welby kind of doctor I remembered from the TV shows of my youth.
I wasn’t sure how to respond, but my unspoken question was answered by George. “She knows you’ve been offworld, Jack, and has full clearance, so what say you let her examine you while you explain what’s going on.”
I nodded. It was not a request, it was an order.
I sent Major Davis into the kitchen to made us all coffee, and stripped down to my boxers, finding it a little distracting to be telling my tale while a warm hand was poking at me. I was up to the part where I had worked out who the spy was, when the doctor interrupted.
“What’s this bruise on your back from, sir?”
“Must have been where I hit the tree. I would have thought it would have gone by now.” I was about to continue speaking, when a stab of pain hit me, and I found myself hanging off the ceiling by my fingernails. Well, that was what it felt like anyway. In reality I just screeched like a banshee and felt like throwing up.
“Sir?” The Special Forces Colonel stuck his head cautiously through the doorway, his weapon at the ready.
“It’s all right, Colonel. Nothing to worry about.”
That’s easy for you to say, General, I thought as I shut my eyes and tried to swallow back the nausea.
“Something you’d like to tell me, General?”
Just how did these doctors make you feel like you’ve done something wrong with one question?
“I hit a tree when I landed.”
“Landed, Jack?”
I came clean. I told them everything, trying to sip the coffee Paul had made and ignore the evil looks being thrown at me by the woman. George had been stunned at my revelations of my paralysis, and I’d been hard pressed to stop him calling an ambulance on the spot. I convinced him that I was almost back to normal, but it was some time before he stopped casting concerned looks at me whenever he thought I wasn’t looking. Then slowly the looks turned to ones of anger, as he realised the full implications of the information I was giving him. By the end of it, fully dressed once more, I knew I was in deep, deep trouble.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
The Mountain was under lock down. No one was going in or out, and my trap was set.
I moved silently through the corridors, accompanied by the same Special Forces team who had been at my cabin, General Hammond and Major Davis following behind.
I hadn’t even needed to argue with George. He knew there was no way someone else was going to finish this, not while I had breath in my body.
He never saw it coming. The look on his face would have made me smile if I wasn’t so incandescently angry.
I grabbed him, spinning him round and out of his office chair, and shoved him up against the wall, with as much force as I could muster. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make him pale and hold his hands in front of his face as if warding off a blow. I wasn’t going to hit him. I didn’t need to. Seeing him cower in front of me and know he had been exposed was reward enough. And it was certain that he knew he had been found out. You could see it in his face with just once glance.
Roberts didn’t need to confess. His guilt was there for all to see.
I let the SF Colonel take him, and watched without speaking as Davis led the way back to the surface.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
I had always known it would be the Debriefing From Hell and it lived up to my every expectation. The only thing I hadn’t been prepared for was that it would be held in the infirmary with me in a hospital bed.
SG-1 were there, and Ferretti, albeit watching and listening from the far corner of the small room. Generals Hammond and Vidrine held centre stage as I went over everything that had happened once again. I explained that the only people who knew about my healing ability were my team, Bra’tac, and Doctor Roberts, so when the Goa’uld had spoken openly about it, it was clear who the spy was. I refused to believe it was any of my team, and I knew Bra’tac would die rather than give the Goa’uld any information. That only left one person.
Roberts.
The problem was that he had to have had help. He had been given access to information about me that even his friendship with McKenzie didn’t explain. There was someone else behind him, feeding his greed, someone or some group powerful enough to think they were impervious to the Goa’uld. Who or what it was we could only guess, with no evidence to link Roberts with anyone. We ruled out the NID – their teeth had been well and truly pulled and the organisation left in the wake of the exposure of their leaders seemed to be working with us rather than against us. I didn’t fully trust them yet, but I didn’t think they had either the power or the desire to help plant a Goa’uld spy at the SGC.
Roberts had made a confession, but refused to give us any information about his backers. We could only conclude that he was a dupe, paid well to get rid of me by any means necessary.
I had been confined to bed by the good Doctor Smith, who explained just how lucky I had been to recover so well from the injury to my spine. The bruising had been extensive, but the swelling had gone down, probably helped by those long soaks in the nice warm stream back on the planet. Resting there for those days had also been the right thing to do, allowing time for my spine to recover. If I had continued to push myself as I had in those first couple of days, I would probably have never regained the full use of my legs.
I was very lucky, and I knew it.
I wasn’t going to argue about the enforced bed rest. I would be happy with nothing less than one hundred percent fitness.
Lucky in one way, but not in others.
Hammond and Vidrine had listened quietly, asking questions in all the right places. Then they had dismissed everyone from the room, telling them they wanted to speak with me alone.
I had some explaining to do. Like why I hadn’t reported the healing ability.
I could only tell them the truth.
“I didn’t want to end up dissected in some back room in Area 51.”
Hammond looked at Vidrine, and Vidrine looked at Hammond. Neither of them would look at me. They knew I was right. They knew nothing could have protected me once the news had got out, and got out it would have. I was only lucky the person who did find out had told the Goa’uld and not our own people.
Sometimes I think the Goa’uld have nothing on my own countrymen.
I promised I had no other secrets hidden away in this unpredictable brain of mine, and agreed to a full examination and evaluation by Commander Coates, the Pentagon doctor in charge of my case.
Which left one tiny little thing.
My going offworld without permission.
Sure there was precedence for it. Hammond himself had defied orders to rescue us from Hathor, but that didn’t make it right.
I knew that, Vidrine knew that, and Hammond knew that.
I was prepared to take my punishment like a man.
I just wasn’t prepared for what it was,
My ability to run the SGC was being questioned up where the air was very thin. The base had run like clockwork while I had been missing. Under the watchful eye of General Vidrine, Colonel Harper had done a fine job.
Damn him!
I had to justify General Jumper’s faith in me. Prove that promoting me and giving me full command hadn’t been an error in judgment.
I was being transferred to Washington as soon as my convalescence was over. How long the posting would be for depended on my performance.
I saw the pity in Hammond’s eyes as he left my room, and softly shut the door behind him.
I had lost it.
After all these months, all the blood I’d shed for this place, it had been taken away from me with the sweep of a pen.
And there was nothing I could do about it.
The End
Heliopolis Main Archive
A Stargate: SG-1 Fanfiction Site
Hope Escapes – General Jack Year 2 Part 6
by FlatkatsiSite Navigation
Support Heliopolis