The planet glows blue and green, like home but not, and Jack wishes for a parachute. He's geared up already, bouncing on the balls of his feet, his fingers wrapped comfortably around the barrel of a P-90.
"Definitely a lot of Jaffa," Carter says, scanning readouts, "and I think that's a large structure, there. Dad? My Goa'uld's not great."
Jacob squints to read. "Several large structures. That'll be Anzu's fortress. It's not far from where the entrance to the Tok'ra tunnels used to be."
"Coincidence?" Jack asks.
"Could be. Hard to say."
That was helpful. "Anybody near our site?"
"No. Lots of trees, though," Carter says.
"We won't be able to set down right there," Jacob says, his attention still on the readouts. "We'll have to hike in. The forest has grown over and it's pretty thick."
Clearings don't show up as often in real life as they do in movies. The closest one that's big enough for the ship is about twenty-five klicks southeast of their goal. And as promised, it's raining.
Carter checks her watch, looks out the viewscreen, and calculates something on her laptop. "The sun's going to set in a few hours," she says. "Maybe we should stay cloaked in orbit overnight."
"No," Jack says. "We go down now. We can get a long way in a few hours." Besides, they've already packed the camping gear.
Furrows dig into Carter's forehead, and Jack thinks he knows why: they'll be in enemy territory, they'll be wet and unable to light a fire, they'll be on watch in the pitch black. But it really is the smartest option.
"I agree with Jack, Sam. We'll get as close as we can tonight, and start again at dawn."
Carter doesn't look convinced.
"How long will night last around here?" Jack asks her.
She punches some more keys. Then she frowns. "Sixteen hours, give or take."
Jacob looks up. "Is it winter, or are their days that much longer?"
"Their days are longer, but we'll be near the equator. It's really interesting, actually." Uh-oh. On the one hand, Jack likes watching her light up even more now than he used to. But on the other hand ... "They're farther away from their sun, so the equator isn't very hot. But the planet isn't tilted on its axis the way Earth is, so most of the northern and southern hemispheres are --"
"Carter?" She stops, pursing her lips the way she does when he's pissing her off but she doesn't want to say so. He's seen her do that to her father, too. "Sorry, but ... three hours?"
"More like three and a half," she says sharply.
"Right. Pack it up. We can't waste the light."
Her head quirks to the side. "Yes, sir," she says.
Jack sighs -- the sooner they get off this ship, the better -- and bounces some more.
*
It isn't quite raining; it's more spewing mist. Even so, Jack is sure that everything he owns is drenched. The fact that 99.9% of what he owns is thousands of light years away is irrelevant.
They covered nineteen klicks before dusk, then pitched a paltry camp and passed out the MREs. Jack set the watches -- himself first, then Carter, then Jacob. She and her dad are both inside the tent now, with boots on and weapons in easy reach. Hell, at least they're dry. Sort of dry.
The only good thing about the low cloud cover is that it reflects some light -- from the snake's place, presumably. Jack can make out the dark forms of trees and the tent, even without the night-vision goggles. He keeps them on, though.
He's currently standing against one of those trees, growing soggier despite the USAF-issued rain poncho, and listening very hard. Teal'c's ears, he thinks, are better than any of theirs; why didn't they ask Teal'c to come? But that leads to thoughts of asking Daniel, too, if he weren't injured, and that leads to thoughts of his old team, and Daniel all by himself now on SG-1, and no. It's a melancholy place. He can't afford to go there.
Besides, risking his own ass for Carter's sake is one thing. Dragging their friends into it would have been insane.
Jack takes off his cap, shakes about a quart of water from it, and puts it back on. He flips up his compass and checks the time: an hour still to go. Carter said the nights were long, but she didn't say they were interminable. He's been out here for four and a half hours already. If they were at home they could be ... well, doing something more interesting, anyway. Like laundry.
Maybe a powerbar. Yes, he'll have another powerbar -- which, by the way, he's going to swear off again the second he gets home -- and that should kill five minutes. He pulls one from his pocket, but before he can tear the wrapper he hears movement from the tent. Carter emerges and comes to stand next to him, blinking.
"You should be asleep," he whispers, returning his attention to the trees.
"Well, I'm awake."
"You need to pee or something?"
"No. Well, yes, but that's not why I --" She stops and shakes her head. "I'll be right back," she says, low.
Jack hands her his goggles. "Don't go far," he says.
"Yes, Jack."
"Don't use any rash-inducing leaves."
She doesn't bother to acknowledge that one. Smart woman.
He listens to her stepping carefully through the underbrush, first away from him and then, a couple minutes later, back toward him.
She passes off the goggles. Jack squints at her. She's got her poncho on, and she's still wearing the black knit cap to hide her hair. He's always liked the way she looks in one of those, like a kid on a snow day. Not that he'd dare tell her that in a billion trillion years.
"You've got almost an hour left," he whispers, so quietly he barely hears it himself. "Go back to sleep."
She takes a deep breath, looking back at the trees. He can't see much of her face, but he can tell exactly which expression she's wearing -- that twisting thing she does when she knows he isn't going to like what she has to say. "Jack, I need you to do something for me."
He puts the goggles back on and scans the trees. Still looks clear. "Sure."
Another deep breath, and then she whispers, "I need you to try not to bark orders at me."
"Bark orders?" With the goggles he should have an advantage over her, but it doesn't help him understand what the hell she's talking about. Plus, she's green, and he probably just looks like a moron.
She makes a little annoyed sound in her throat. "Just try. Please?"
"Bark?"
"Jack --" She stops.
"Sam," he whispers, still keeping an eye on the perimeter, "I don't think I've been doing anything different. Have I been doing anything different?"
"No, but ..." She shakes her head. "Remember what I said about talking down to me?"
Oh, now that is not playing fair. "Whoa, whoa," he says. "Giving orders is not the same thing."
"It feels the same."
"Huh," Jack says, wondering, now, if that was a leftover command issue, too. Huh.
Carter lifts her chin and tries for a smile. "It's just ..." One hand flutters as she searches for the right words. "I know it's dumb. But it doesn't feel like it's my CO telling me what to do anymore. It feels like it's ... you."
Shit, that ... makes perfect sense. "That's not dumb."
"It puts me on edge," she says.
Yeah, he remembers, she gave him a pretty evil glare when he told her to set the perimeter. She's been doing that for days, now that he thinks about it; he should have put it together sooner. He just assumed it was a natural side effect of being cooped up with him and Jacob.
Jack tilts his head, his mouth close to her ear. "I noticed," he says fondly.
She winces. "Sorry about that."
God, this is weird. Here he is, on a Goa'uld-infested planet -- on watch on a Goa'uld-infested planet, even. He's dripping rain, he's holding a zat, he's looking at his girlfriend through infrared, and they're discussing ... this.
It's affecting the mission, though, and that has to stop. "I swear to God I'm not trying to piss you off, Sam. But I'm not sure I know how to do this, with you, without being in charge." He half hopes she'll have a brilliant answer for him.
"I know it's not intentional," she says. "I do, Jack. But I really need you to try. Please?" Okay, it's not the brilliant answer he wanted, but it's not an unreasonable request, either.
He squeezes her hand. That's weird, too, here.
Her head turns as they both hear the tent flap open, and she drops his hand quickly. Oh, crap.
"I've got an idea," Jacob whispers, loudly. "Why don't you both do what I tell you? You can start by shutting up."
"Dad --"
"Private conversation here, Jacob." Okay, Jacob's right that this isn't the best place. In his prior life, Jack would never have allowed it. But this whole mission is outside the rules, and Jesus, it's not like they're shouting.
"Enemy territory, Jack," Jacob says, with an ironic and slightly scary grin.
Jack opens his mouth, but Carter's fingers close painfully around his bicep. He can almost feel her blood pressure spiking. "I'm sorry we woke you, Dad. Would you go back to sleep, please?"
Jacob grunts and drops the tent flap.
She drags Jack by the arm, out of range of Tok'ra ears. "I thought you two had called a truce?"
Jack had, too. Well, they are all stressed out. "More of a provisional cease-fire."
"Great."
"Hey, I take what I can get." He lets himself touch her cheek, and she sighs. "Go to bed, Sam."
"No, I'm up now. I might as well take over."
"And send me in there? I don't think so."
"Coward."
"Oh, you betcha."
She coughs, hiding a laugh. "It's pointless for us both to get rained on," she whispers, and pulls the goggles off his head. "Go."
Jack grumbles, but gives in. Carter wishes him good dreams, and Jack grumbles some more.
Jacob is on his side, facing the tent wall. "It isn't her watch yet," he says.
Jack shucks his rain gear. "Yeah, well, some things aren't worth fighting over." And he needs to remember that more often. Like now, for instance.
The rain sounds heavier inside the tent, droplets striking taut nylon, and Jack can hear Jacob expel a puff of air. "What the hell are you two thinking, anyway?"
Oh, screw it. "I'm thinking that we're doing you a favor here, Jacob." Jack crawls between the two unzipped layers of the sleeping bag Carter just vacated, sticking his boots out the end. He's wet, he's tired, and he's sick of this crap. "At some point you might consider some gratitude."
He doesn't get a response.
*
Jacob shakes Jack's boot just before dawn. Time to go. Jack yawns loudly, feeling Carter jump awake beside him.
"One more day in this hellhole," she mutters.
Inside the tent it's still coal-black. Outside the tent it's sort of charcoal, with a hint of light far off to the east. And the rain's let up, though the ground must be permanent mush.
They break camp in silence and sit on logs to eat breakfast. Carter yawns, and Jack bumps his shoulder into hers. She bumps back. Jacob doesn't notice.
It's six more klicks to their site -- "An easy stroll," Jack whispers. Locate Carter's new toy with Jacob's equipment, break out the tunneling crystals, sort through whatever other crap the Tok'ra never bothered to come back for, hike out to the cargo ship, and go home. Easy. They'll be off this rock by nightfall.
And then there'll be five more days of bonding, but he's not going to think about that until he absolutely has to.
"Let's head out," Jacob says. "Jack, you take point."
"Yes, sir," Jack says, earning himself synchronized Carter eye-rolls. Impressive.
The morning is still a deep gray; they start out with the goggles but take them off after only half an hour. The local birds -- or whatever it is that flies and sings around here -- wake up as they walk. Jack thinks one of them sounds like a dying loon. On drugs.
He checks his compass, signals to Carter, and edges half a degree to the east.
Jacob's several meters back, leaving Carter in the middle. Jack can hear her quiet footfalls, the near-silent swish of fabric on fabric. He can pick out the rhythm of her walk by sound alone, even in the dark. He could to do that with Teal'c and Daniel once, too.
He can't hear Jacob, but he's sure Carter can. And hell, they might not be on the best of terms right now, but aside from SG-1, there's nobody Jack trusts more on their six than Jacob.
The sun is rising, casting angles of light through the trees, and something rustles up ahead. Jack halts them and ducks. It's not moving quietly, so it's probably nothing, but he isn't taking any chances. As he crouches, squinting in the direction of the sound, a fuzzy, rabbit-sized thing leaps between two bushes. Jack relaxes a bit, looks over his shoulder at Carter, and catches her small smile. But they stay down a few seconds anyway, just to be sure. They've been walking for forty-five minutes.
At about a klick out, Jack hears Carter moving faster, catching up to him. He stops to wait, reads the screen on the little Tok'ra computer, and adjusts their course a couple more degrees to the east. They're now headed straight for the fortress thing, but with luck, they'll get off this rock without ever seeing it. Jack really doesn't want to see it.
Carter sticks close behind him now, and he hears Jacob drawing near, too. Then he catches another sound, much softer than the first -- softer, even, than Carter's footsteps. He holds up a fist and drops down low, intuition telling him that this is no bunny.
Jack signals Jacob to go around to the west; he and Carter will circle to the east. They both nod sharply in response and Jacob disappears. Seconds later, Carter's at his back as they cautiously advance through the trees. When he looks over his shoulder, she flicks her eyes upwards, and dammit, she's right. The birds or whatever they are have shut up.
They drop, listen, and assess their tactical situation in a series of hand signals. All Jack can hear is wind and leaves -- until a branch cracks to the east.
Crap. Their position is indefensible: the only possible shelter is young pine trees. Why did they head straight in from the ship? Why didn't they find a way to use the landscape -- a ridge, anything -- to hide their approach?
Because they all wanted this mission to be over, that's why. And because they were confident no one would be in their way. Stupid.
Jack hears a staff blast maybe twenty meters to the west; then another, and a clinking of armor, very near, to the south. Carter dives behind a tree, zat aimed flawlessly at the sound.
More metal on metal to the east, and heavier footfalls. Jack signals her to cover the east while he watches the south. Unfortunately, there are two other directions -- infinite other directions -- and now a good ten feet between him and her. And Jack knows there are far more Jaffa than humans in this equation.
The Jaffa from the south come into sight first. Jack fires his zat, scores, and fires again. He hears Carter firing, too, and a shout from a male that isn't Jacob. Another Jaffa appears to Jack's left, but as Jack shoots, three more close in on his position. He lets off a few volleys and makes a run for a new tree.
The staff blast catches him on the back of his left thigh, sending a searing pain up his spine. He stumbles, hears Carter call out his name, and feels another burn strike his shin. This time he slips in the mud and falls flat on his face. Oh, fuck fuck FUCK, those things hurt. When he turns his head to one side to breathe, he can see Carter, and she's not shooting anymore.
A boot kicks him in the ribs, forcing him to roll over, then presses his scorched thigh into the mud. Jesus.
The Jaffa who belongs to the boot towers over Jack, and the tattoo on his forehead is way too familiar. Oh, crap.
Shoot him, Sam, he thinks. Shoot the bastard. But he hears no more weapons fire, just the pounding of boots toward his position.
"My lord Baal will be pleased, Tau'ri," the Jaffa intones.
Jack sees the blunt end of a staff weapon heading for his face. "Oh, cra--"
The world goes black.
***
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