Prologue

‘They’re merely workers.’

‘And what made them so worthy of that?’

‘Colonel….’

‘Administrator. I will not recommend trade with a culture that enslaves it’s own people. I don’t care what kind of technology you have to offer.’

‘This system of Government has allowed our culture to survive an Ice Age.’

Standing in the State office of P3R 118’s equivalent of a President, looking out over a spectacular domed city that was all that was left of this planet’s civilisation, Colonel Jack O’Neill was stone cold furious. He moved in closer to the complacent man sitting opposite him.

‘Tell me, what’s the secret? Starvation? Torture? What?’

‘Our methods are actually quite civilised.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes. In fact, I’ll show you….’

P3R118 was a planet with potential. Its leaders were jumpy and a touch paranoid but they were also scientifically adept and looking for help. SG7’s sudden arrival, through the interplanetary portal known on Earth as the Stargate, had shocked the people of The City. The planet had no knowledge of the potential of the Stargate, treating it, until now, solely as a ceremonial object. The local Government had immediately taken the initiative, however, and embraced an offer to meet and greet Earth Stargate Command’s premiere envoys, SG1. Realisation that there was a whole Universe to be explored seemed to impress the fastidious Administrator and his City Elders and SG1’s visit was quickly scheduled.

Meanwhile, SG7’s team leader, Major Evans, was suitably impressed by this planets’ inhabitants’ ability to survive a global Ice Age. He hoped that an extended visit by SG1 would do much to open the doors to fruitful negotiation. It was agreed that SG1 would spend the equivalent of 7 local days visiting the planet and, although contact so far with the Citizens had gone remarkably smoothly, Major Evans had noticed an undercurrent of tension that might need the particular skills of Colonel O’Neill, Major Carter, Daniel Jackson and Teal’c. The team had a reputation for dealing with difficult aliens and he was more than happy to let them work their magic on this particular bunch.

Chapter 2

Daniel jumped up once more and peered out of the anti-room doorway. Facilitator Devon had left him, Teal’c and Carter alone for some time, since agreeing to take Colonel O’Neill to see Administrator Calder and for some reason Daniel felt a creeping sense of unease.

‘Every time I touch something in this place I feel like I’m leaving a dirty mark’ he exclaimed. ‘I know they live in a sealed environment but everything can’t be pollution free.’

‘It’s not.’

Samantha Carter’s jaw was clenched and twitching with pent-up anger. She was holding her P90 machine gun around her neck very tightly, as if she was sure someone was going to rip it out of her hands at any moment. Allowing SG1 to enter The City with weapons had not been easy to arrange. In fact, in retrospect, it seemed like the first of many disagreements that had occurred on what was supposed to be a run of the mill diplomatic ‘how-do-you-do’. OK, so a P90 was a lethal, state of the art piece of hardware and walking up to the front door with a couple, not to mention a Jaffa staff weapon didn’t look particularly diplomatic. Major Evans had been quite clear however.

‘Enthusiastic but secretive. I suggest a high level of caution until both sides have built up a decent level of trust, Sir’ was his final advice at the pre-mission briefing.

So Daniel knew that Sam was glad to be holding some decent firepower but she still looked apprehensive and much as if she had just swallowed something particularly unpalatable. She had obviously noticed Daniel’s appraisal of her protective gesture.

‘All the P90’s in SGC’s armoury are not going to help remove the picture imprinted on my mind.’ She stated simply. Daniel looked back over his shoulder at his team mate, frowning.

‘So describe to me again what you saw down that ventilation tunnel.’

He had heard Carter’s clipped report to O’Neill, half an hour earlier. He knew Sam was not prone to dramatics and he had rarely seen her professional military veneer so cracked. He had sensed there was something rotten at the heart of this gleaming Metropolis and, although he would have preferred to get through at least one mission without having to challenge his own or anyone else’s moral values, he felt that Sam needed to share the burden of her new-found knowledge.

‘It was a mine, right?’

‘Daniel, you remember that rooftop Commissary they took us to? Plush furniture, sparkling tableware, mouth-watering delicacies and a spectacular view over The City? I wondered who was going to pay for the meal. Well now I know. What can I say? It was dark. It was cold. It was incredibly filthy and the stench…. There was this incredible ear shattering grinding noise. When I dropped down into the cavern I couldn’t see anything at first. I wondered if it was just the foundations of The City. I tell you, Daniel, my heart leapt into my mouth when I realised that those bent shuffling figures were human – or whatever homosapien variant this planet has thrown up.’

Sam closed her eyes for a moment and shuddered.

‘I know we’ve done despicable things to our own human population let alone the animal world but I felt like I had been transported back 60 years and deposited into a Nazi Work Camp from World War 2 Europe. Or at least nearly deposited.’ She opened her eyes and gave Teal’c a grateful smile. ‘Did I mention thanks for holding onto my harness so tightly, Teal’c?’

The tall brooding Jaffa made a customary subtle inclination of his head. Daniel found it somehow comforting to see such a familiar gesture. Just as it must have been an overwhelming relief for Sam to feel the Jaffa pull her up from the ventilation shaft they had discovered and back into the sanitary safety of The City’s public face.

Daniel thought back to their tour of The City. It had been when they had spotted yet another shaft going apparently nowhere into the bowels of the ice bound planet, that Carter had expressed her curiosity to O’Neill. Wary of not disrupting the mission’s diplomatic objectives, the Colonel had come to a carefully considered decision.

‘OK, Carter, I am sure Daniel and I can cause some sort of distraction with Facilitator Devon. You and Teal’c do some snooping. But don’t make me regret this. Oh, and don’t come back with tales of Arian gene manipulation or terraforming bugs cos I just don’t think Danny and I are up to another one of our question and answer sessions right now.’

With that he had breezed off and grabbed their guide’s elbow. Smiling sweetly at Daniel, he asked the Facilitator to explain once more about the Singing Highway and winked over his shoulder at Carter and Teal’c as Daniel and Devon became caught up in a passionate discussion about the nature of atonal song and mood communication.

As Sam described it, Teal’c’s pack had soon been opened and between them they found leverage to open the vent wide enough for Teal’c to lower Carter on a hastily constructed rope harness into the darkness below. When the group had been reunited, Jack’s light-hearted mood had immediately evaporated. To say that he had not liked what Sam told him was an understatement and, although Daniel had initially been fascinated by the sophisticated and subtle culture they had found in The City, he was equally appalled. Apparently Sam had told Teal’c as well, when she had reached out for his strong hand as he lifted her back out of the narrow opening. It had taken just two words ‘Slave Labour’. Teal’c’s desperate fight to free his own people had left some deep scars and his empathy for any similarly afflicted race ran deep within his veins. Daniel realised that for once SG1 were all in total agreement. He looked around at the two members present. Sam looked back at him with a concerned frown.

‘I’m sorry, Daniel; I know you’ve found some interesting stuff here but it looks like to me like this planet consists of a few precarious ivory towers propped up by an underbelly of slavery and subjugation. The people I saw in that mine were sentient beings and unless someone shows me concrete proof to the contrary, they were suffering. It’s wrong on earth, on this planet, on any planet.’ She sighed and appeared to relax her shoulders and her grip. Before he could let her know that he was on her side, Sam interjected another idea.

‘Daniel, you grew up with Star Trek. What do you think of The Prime Directive? Teal’c looked understandably confused. Daniel was also caught out by her change of subject and creased his brow as he worked out the connection.

‘Oh yeah, right, you spent your childhood with your nose in a history book. Scifi TV probably wasn’t on your doctorate curriculum.’ Sam had obviously seen his uncertainty and jumped to the usual conclusion – that a so-called academic like him never watched TV and particularly entertainment TV. Daniel knew, however, that Sam’s tension had put an unnecessary level of sarcasm into her voice and that it wasn’t a personal attack against him. He tried to diffuse the atmosphere slightly.

‘Actually, I’ve got quite a few episodes on tape. My favourite is the Next Generation episode ‘Darmok’ – you know, where Captain Picard has to learn to talk to the Alien that can only communicate using cultural metaphors?’ He smiled at her surprise. ‘It just took me a moment to work out what you were getting at. For your information, Teal’c, The Prime Directive is a law devised by a fictional futuristic society which dictates that when any members of that society, called The Federation, encounters a new race it is beholden not to judge that race by it’s own standards or to influence the behaviour of that race unless it became a member of the society.’

‘This seems a very cowardly law, Daniel Jackson.’ Straight to the point as always, Daniel smiled.

‘It could be viewed that way, Teal’c, but it could also be seen to be very brave and mature. The idea is that when you meet a new culture you shouldn’t automatically judge it by your own standards and your obvious limited knowledge’

‘So Major Carter is suggesting that we do not know enough about this culture to be able to condemn it?’ Teal’c may have lived an unsophisticated life before he joined SG1 but that didn’t make him any less sharp.

‘More than that, Teal’c’ Sam agreed. ‘You know I didn’t like what I saw but I have to admit I don’t know who those people were or whether they are working in those appalling conditions out of choice or not. My instincts tell me we should do something to help them but to be honest I’m not sure if we could even if it was right to do so.’

‘That did not stop Colonel O’Neill’s actions on Euronda.’

Teal’c’s gaze was as intense as always and both Carter and Jackson twitched at the memory of unequal battle that had been fought for so long on the planet they had visited not so long ago. Daniel and Jack’s strident disagreements about whether the race they had encountered on Euronda was benevolent or not had caused friction amongst the whole team. The debate had not been helped by their eventual discovery that the Eurondans were attempting to commit genocide. A cultural Utopia created for TV entertainment didn’t fit into the messy military real life necessities that SG1 continually encountered, unfortunately. Daniel decided he need to show his solidarity on this one while also injecting a more positive note into the conversation.

‘Jack’s not going to do anything rash, Sam’ he said brightly. She looked up. ‘He’s just going to lay our cards on the table, make our excuses and organise the first Stargate bus out of here.’

For once Daniel felt in accord with the Colonel, acutely feeling the need to just turn and walk away. This planet had too many problems and he just didn’t feel like taking on the task of solving them for the sake of a few metallurgical breakthroughs. He was grateful he hadn’t been party to what Carter had seen because, seeing the haunted look in her eyes, he knew he would probably feel differently if he had.

The team had suffered from quite enough heartache and conflict over recent weeks. After his near escape from the Unas, ‘was the plural of Unas, Uni’ he mused, and primordial Goa’uld infestation, the rest of the team had seemed overly protective of him. Daniel knew he had been reacting to their behaviour, however well meant, by his drastically independent actions to help the Enkarans and the Gadmir find suitable global habitats. OK, so one day you get captured by a seven foot monster with lunch on his mind and the next you get yourself beamed aboard an alien terraforming space ship that is about to be blown to pieces. Both scenarios had worked out OK in the end but, on reflection, he felt pretty bad when he realised he had pushed Jack’s already frayed nerves to the very limit.

‘Not that either of us are going to admit that any time soon’ he sighed to himself. It had been Sam who had told him of her and Jack’s unwanted confession of deep concern and care for one another while being tested by the Tok’ra, Anise’s Zatarc machine. He trusted their professionalism and both military members of the team continued to work efficiently and conscientiously. This didn’t make him any less sensible of the fact that some of the light-hearted banter and harmless flirting had gone out of their relationship, as if they were fearful of impropriety sneaking up on them unawares. He was sorry that it was Sam that had had to give her commanding officer such an unpleasant report about their newfound friends.

Yes, they really had all been looking forward to an easy ride on this one and, all in all, cutting their losses and turning tail seemed the best idea right now. Daniel hoped Jack’s ‘no thank you’ speech had been received OK and wondered fleetingly whether he should have accompanied him. He felt confident that the Colonel’s decision to speak to the Administrator on his own had been one of expediency and, hearing footsteps outside the door, he stood up expectantly to meet the new arrival.

Chapter 3

‘….Yes. In fact, I’ll show you.’

Jack didn’t need to hear what Administrator Calder had just suggested. The coldly dangerous look on his face told Colonel Jack O’Neill of the United States Air Force that the Administrator’s offer wasn’t particularly benevolent and he wondered whether his hasty words were a serious tactical error. Who would have thought? It’s not like he’d done this before? That final thought brought a wry smile to the corner of his eyes. Yeah, everyone had patted him on the back on SG1’s recent return from the new Gadmir home world. He’d done a great job in an impossible situation, bla, bla, bla. But they all knew it was Daniel who had saved their backsides, and his own quite literally, with his determined, damned rash transportation to the Gadmir terraforming ship.

He had discussed Daniel’s flagrant failure to follow orders with General Hammond – George had to know. The General was equally at a loss as to whether their errant Archaeologist/ Linguist/ Anthropologist should be reprimanded or given some sort of medal. Jack also knew that his anger had a lot to do with the fact that in as many weeks, he had nearly lost the damn kid twice. Yes, with that petulant attitude of Daniel’s to do things his way, Jack had no problem thinking of him as some errant schoolboy half the time.

‘But hey, what about me? Tell a guy that you don’t like his system of government and expect him to just kick you off his planet double time? Smart, Jack.’

Who’d have thought that the outwardly placid and fastidious Administrator might have a pretty big mean streak in him? It was pretty damn unfair, not to mention a tactical nightmare.

‘Did I mention unfair?’ He chastised himself. ‘OK, so he’s oversensitive about the ‘SLAVE PROBLEM’. Who’d a guessed? We’ve been doing this sort of thing on Earth for years. Then again, WE don’t offer to show the damned evidence up front. I have a feeling this guy is not gonna take me on a pleasant sightseeing tour of Slaves’R’Us. I need to get myself out of this situation now and get the team back together.

‘At least I kept hold of that shiny new P90. Not that it is going to do me much good unless I can get myself and my team out of here. Why in hell’s name did I have to confront the damned guy? Cos I expected to give my little lecture and then strut on out of here, that’s why, you stupid idiot!’

O’Neill realised that the time for debating with himself was over, not to mention that if anyone caught him at it they would think him decidedly flaky. Whatever he felt about his decision to walk alone into this office, it was time to take control of the situation.

‘No thanks, Administrator. I really think we’ve seen enough. I’ll just go and rejoin my team. We’ll be gone before you can wash your hands of us.’

Four quick paces took Jack to the end of the Administrator’s grandiose desk and within striking distance of the elevator portal. The Administrator had been effusively proud of his lofty view of The City. As he looked back at Calder, he noticed one hand raised acquiescently while the other turned a video terminal round to Jack’s viewpoint.

‘There is no need’ Administrator Calder smiled beneficently. ‘I have already arranged for your colleagues to join you.’

And there indeed were Sam, Teal’c and Daniel, walking out of the Administrative Chambers behind the quietly efficient Facilitator Devon.

Chapter 4

‘Colonel O’Neill has asked that you join him at the Everlasting Ring.’ Facilitator Devon was a petite woman, self-contained and business like in a corporate PA kind of way. The only thing that broke this image was an overly ornate outfit – neat but distractingly layered and textured. Not to mention the lacquered hair piled impossibly high on her head. It was a severe look but full of artifice much like the rest of the Citizens SG1 had encountered so far. It was as if this planet’s restricted existence had turned inward in an attempt to perfect the smallest detail.

‘And maybe more than that,’ thought Sam, as she looked up at the Facilitator. ‘They’re trying to distance themselves from the squalid underworld that toils to allow this place to exist.’

Sam knew she had no evidence that Citizens like Devon knew anything about the cavern she had found not an hour ago. The City’s media appeared to be State run which wasn’t conducive to open debate and in depth investigation. But it was difficult to believe they didn’t at least question what made things tick around here. More likely they chose to look the other way. As her anger started to rise up again, Sam took a deep breath and stood up to greet their guide.

‘Are we leaving?’ Keep it simple, Carter, she inwardly chided herself.

‘I don’t know, but I am told that there is a problem with your communication devices due to an ionic storm we are experiencing over The City Sky Dome and your commander was most anxious that you get his message.’

Facilitator Devon bowed ever so slightly. Sam grabbed her radio and made a series of unsuccessful attempts to contact O’Neill. She gave Daniel a quick look.

‘Come in, Jack. Are you hearing this?’ Daniel’s call seemed equally unsuccessful.

‘As I said’ Was that posture completely submissive, Sam wondered, surveying their guide once more, ‘communication is being badly interrupted right now. I believe your Commander’s message included something to the effect of "There’s bowl of fruit loops with my name on it".’

Sam saw Daniel’s posture relax slightly at this apparent reference to Jack’s least favourite breakfast cereal right now. Only Jack could have come up with something like that. She couldn’t resist a grin herself even if Teal’c still looked like someone had told him his favourite pet had died.

She’d missed the jokes, she realised. Ever since she and Jack had been forced to admit that team commitment to one another might actually be something much more, their relationship had become deadly serious – strained even. Why did everything have to be so complicated? Why couldn’t she just be natural with Jack any more? For three and a half years now they had developed an easy, OK slightly flirtatious but definitely mutually respectful, working relationship and a deep, trusting friendship. More than even Daniel and Teal’c, she had felt comfortable with O’Neill. Their military training only enhanced this feeling and yet that same military code of behaviour had now become their damnation. No, that was too strong. They still hadn’t really acknowledged anything, just the possibility of something. And in the process she felt quite sure they’d thrown away something else, possibly even more precious.

‘I do not advise our leaving this location, Major Carter.’

Teal’c broke Sam’s reverie and she snapped her thoughts back to the dilemma at hand. The anti-room had three exits and was conveniently located close to the Stargate but also near to the ‘elevator’ that had taken O’Neill to the Administrator’s palatial office. She was fairly certain that Jack could not have passed them and already made his way to the Stargate. So was there any reason to leave and get there ahead of him.

‘Administrator Calder was not in his office, when Colonel O’Neill and I left to visit him.’ Devon’s statement was a surprise to all three members of SG1. ‘I am sorry to admit that we do not have a very equitable working Schematic, here in The City. There was a disturbance in Mining Sector 8 not long ago and the Administrator had to leave to calm the situation. Rioting is not good for The City, I am sure you can imagine.’

Even Teal’c raised an eyebrow at this blatant admission of the unacceptable status quo that appeared to exist on this planet. Until now Sam had assumed the planet’s apparently hidden working environment had been a dark and deadly secret. It had certainly been well hidden. Maybe the local society wasn’t as damnable as she and Jack had decided. Had recent experiences caused her to jump to conclusions?

‘Your commander seemed quite happy to return straight to the Stargate as you call it.’

The part of Sam that was a Major in the Air Force couldn’t help feeling that this was all too easy but the Facilitator seemed painfully embarrassed of her admission of problems existing in utopia and, as she turned to leave the room, Sam nodded her head at the others and walked out behind her. They would all keep their wits about them she knew. Even Daniel seemed to sense the seriousness of the situation. If the Colonel was in any sort of trouble, the Stargate was probably the best place to be and, of course, they would look pretty stupid if Jack had to call in reinforcements because the rest of his team got themselves cut off by a local insurrection.

Chapter 5

Daniel felt a rush of relief as Sam agreed to follow the Facilitator to the Stargate. He realised the sterile air of the Sky Dome was beginning to suffocate him and he was glad that Jack appeared to have decided a quick exit was the best route. He slotted himself in front of the solid bulk of their resident Jaffa and followed Carter out of the room.

The route twisted and turned in a way he didn’t think possible for such a regimental city. The air, so heavily reminiscent of the lower levels of air-conditioned Cheyenne Mountain, suddenly seemed oppressively stale and he felt a shiver down his spine. He remembered the anecdotal description – someone just walked over your grave.

‘How morbid,’ he thought. ‘It will be good to see Jack and get back home, get back to talking about fruit loops and oatmeal’. In an instant flash of memory SG1’s resident history specialist remembered the playful banter he and Jack had knocked back and forth as they distracted Facilitator Devon from Sam and Teal’c’s illicit activities.

Teal’c exclaimed as he bumped into the frozen archaeologist. He looked down questioningly as he heard Daniel mutter ‘she didn’t look like she was understanding a word….?’

Chapter 6

Why in hell had Carter agreed to move from the relatively secure and strategically sound Chamber anti-room without his say so? Why had Teal’c agreed, for crying out loud? O’Neill knew he would probably find out soon enough but he grabbed at his radio anyway.

‘Come in, Major’…..

‘Carter?’…..

‘Teal’c, can you hear me?’ ……

‘I’m so sorry, Colonel O’Neill. Your radio, I think you called it, seems to be suffering from interference.’

Jack was getting an increasing urge to wipe that smug look off the guy’s face, titular leader of this planet or not. His fears deepened but he resisted any display of concern.

The Administrator moved away from his desk and walked towards a small alcove, which suddenly appeared to the right.

‘This is the quickest way to join your colleagues.’ He gestured towards the opening. ‘Let’s not keep them waiting’

Jack took a couple of beats to take stock. Was he suffering from rampant paranoia? All his instincts told him otherwise and for all his recent soul searching he wasn’t prepared to ignore a lifetime’s experience. But maybe what Carter had seen was a misconception? He trusted his 2IC implicitly but it had been dark and noisy, she had said so herself. He had never known Sam to make such a serious error of judgement but there still may be a rational explanation for the subterranean secret. Maybe these people had a severe crime problem. He grimaced inwardly.

‘OK, face it, Jack. There’s just the four of you. Yours is not reason why. Well, not until you have your team by the Stargate and a Dial Home Device at your back.’

The main problem, now, was that The City’s design was so clinical and repetitively decorated it was practically impossible to tell which street the rest of team were walking down, from the monitor in front of him. Unless he wanted to roam endlessly around this god forsaken place, his best chance of reuniting the four of them was to go along with the supercilious, smug b******d waiting patiently by his sneaky little back door.

‘And hey,’ he concluded, ‘the guy hasn’t exactly had time to call in reinforcements.’

Chapter 7

Calder Abnor Xavion, 8th Administrator of the Reclaimer’s Age, had not got to his exulted position of power, as he justifiably viewed it himself, by being a fool. He knew these powerful but undisciplined aliens could provide him with the means to transform his very existence, let alone that of the rest of the Citizens. Even the Workers might be able to share some of the fruits of Space travel. It amused him to think benevolently now and again, not something a leader of such a beleaguered people could afford to do very often.

He was not, however, prepared to give any of these ‘humans’ the benefit of the doubt. He knew he had an unspoken objective so it was only wise to assume they did as well. Combine these natural suspicions with the Administrator’s citywide surveillance system, another little secret it didn’t seem necessary to burden his visitors with, and he was not surprised to see the tall, quiet alien lower the nosy, blond woman down into the Mines of Section 8. Surveillance was an essential tool of government but it was nice to see it could also aid in detection of alien subterfuge and betrayal.

‘What more did these people want for Deity’s sake?’ He questioned his assistant, Devon, over the telelink. ‘Our Clear Iron Taution Technique is obviously way beyond their own engineering experience. They knew they were getting a good deal by only giving me a few ‘Stargate Addresses’ in return.’

He knew Devon lived in fear of her family’s deportation to the Worker’s Sections but he believed she also had some part of his own wisdom. Much like Commandant Brenna or Servitor Lise. It pleased him to see these strong willed women adopt his ethos and follow the Believer’s Guide.

‘Do you think they will challenge us and our Scripture about what they think they saw, Devon?’ The Facilitator had left the four members of SG1 talking in the first anti-room to the Administrator’s Chambers.

‘I think it is possible. The one called Daniel was talking to me about a concept they call "Ethics" on their planet. I think they have Scripture equally as strong as ours, Administrator. They seem quite proud of a Document that is integral to their form of government, which advocates the principle of Equality. It appears to be a sophisticated ideal, if ultimately flawed and misguided’ she added quickly, apparently noticing her leader’s brow crinkle into a frown.

Calder had not heard her last statement, however.

‘I will not be judged by these people.’ He fumed. ‘They have no concept of our daily struggle.’ As if the thought of another world viewpoint was a stain on his very being, the Administrator picked up his ever-present Cleansing Cloth and wiped his hands vigorously. He quickly formulated a plan.

‘If the Earth visitors decide to criticise our Worker’s Schematic, Devon, I will feel compelled to retaliate. Enforcement Teams of Acolytes will be prepared. We will show these arrogant humans that breaching our sacred Surface is unacceptable and maybe we will teach them a thing or two about their precious equality, while we are about it. Don’t you agree, Facilitator?

Chapter 8

In the end, it was all about sheer numbers. Jack had been pretty certain the Citizens had not spent their time perfecting any sort of futuristic ray guns – they had no enemies except for the unforgiving weather of their planet. No, scratch that. It was seriously beginning to look like these people were their own worst enemies. As he followed the Administrator, ‘good strategic position, there, Jack’, out of the elevator portal and into what looked like the service hallways of a posh hotel, SG1’s leader was desperately trying to judge the seriousness of his team’s current situation. Apart from his own damn ass idea to take the smug Citizens of P3R118 down a peg or two and the tiresome and suspicious communications black out, he’d seen no overt danger. But still that crawling sensation crept up and down his spine like a mature goa’uld symbiote sniffing out a new host.

‘Oh, nice imagery,’ he snorted to himself, ‘I’m a few million light years from the nearest snakehead and they’re still giving me the creeps.’

He scanned his surroundings one more time and shifted his grip slightly on his P90. Long bare corridor, swing doors at the end, two other doors at even intervals on the left. As he passed the first, he gave it a slight nudge – locked? Same with the second. As they approached the double doors he fell back slightly, not wanting to give his companion an excuse to invite him through first.

‘A convenient shortcut, I find,’ Administrator Calder called as he burst through the doorway.

The first thing SG1 had noticed on their arrival the day before had been that Civility was practised with a capital C in the City. Carter had been equally mortified and delighted to have all the men in the room stand up whenever she walked in. As the swing doors flew back into his face Jack stumbled back slightly, surprised at the Administrator’s breach of manners. He was quickly on the balls of his feet again but the distraction had been enough and he was aware of at least four men in dark red uniforms as he emerged from the anonymous corridor. They knew what they were doing and, although Jack got off a couple of rounds and definitely caved in the nose of the guy who grabbed for his left hand, the intervention of additional menacing figures was overwhelming.

As he crashed to the floor, with a boot placed firmly on his neck and numerous iron fists grasping his limbs he felt his final downfall – the sharp prick of a needle and the aching throb of liquid being injected straight into his right bicep. As his vision blurred there was only one thought in his mind.

‘Please let them leave without me.’

Chapter 9

‘What is the matter, Daniel Jackson?’ Teal’c enquired, moving back slightly and detaching himself from the stumbling doctor. Daniel stopped flailing and stood quite rigid, a sure sign that the usually ebullient young man was unhappy about something. He shook himself and beckoned Teal’c forward slightly so that they were walking parallel.

‘You know that message from Jack?’ he muttered quietly. The Jaffa inclined his head in reply.

‘I don’t think it was the coded ‘only Jack could have said this’ report that we all thought.’

Just in front of him Daniel noticed Sam pause slightly and look over her shoulder at her companions. As she stepped forward to make room, Daniel and Teal’c became aware of open space and immediately recognised the ceremonial square that sat in front of this planet’s Stargate. They also noticed that Colonel O’Neill was nowhere to be seen.

‘We must have arrived before him,’ smiled Facilitator Devon, anticipating the team’s hesitation. ‘Shall we wait here or proceed to the Statue of Symbols. Daniel looked to Sam and Teal’c, sensing their dilemma. He also guessed that his realisation that Jack may well not have asked them to come was now irrelevant. Meanwhile, the side street they were on was a strong defensive position but, if there was any reason to be suspicious of Jack’s absence, it made sense to get as close to the DHD as possible. It was Major Carter who made the decision.

Chapter 10

‘LEAVE WITHOUT ME’.

The phrase felt like it had been broadcast by Jack on her radio. She shook her shoulders. If there was one thing the scientist in Samantha Carter didn’t like it was what she could only describe as ‘weird things’ - like the feeling that she had just received a telepathic, desperate plea.

‘No,’ she chastised herself, ‘that was spooky, but it’s just a symptom of being around Jack too much. Or maybe Daniel….’ Out loud she stated, ‘Well, if there’s one thing I do know, it’s that we are not going anywhere without the Colonel but I think he would definitely be happier if we were in closer proximity to the Stargate right now.’

That decided, she gave Teal’c a sharp nod and tugged Daniel out into the square.

‘Keep your eyes open,’ she hissed, not caring if the Facilitator heard her or not.

At that moment they all heard a roar. Sam was suitably impressed to see how quickly Daniel dropped to one knee, imitating the fighting stance of his colleagues. And it was quite necessary. Behind them were about 50 frenzied Citizens, rushing across the Piazza like European football hooligans. Sam’s mouth dropped open in surprise – she had hardly heard a raised voice for the duration of their visit. There were no weapons in evidence but the mood was ugly. And what really threw her was the look of shock on their guide’s face.

‘She is either a very good actor or this really is the lead story on the Network News tonight’ she gulped.

Realising that they were more likely to get mowed down if they remained in their current tight knit group, Sam called out sharply and set of at a sprint towards the far side of the square, fortunately the Stargate side. Sensing rather than hearing three sets of feet behind her, she took a moment to look back at the angry mob.

‘Where did they come from so quickly?’ she wondered and feeling even more astounded, ‘What is their problem?’

‘SAM!’

Daniel’s cry somehow penetrated the screaming and chanting echoing around the quadrangle and as Carter turned back she felt the wind fly from her as a tall solid figure barrelled past and over her slight form. Between the remaining three members of SG1 and the DHD was another stampeding mob. Her memory flickered. Devon had mentioned something about riots but she really hadn’t believed it.

‘People that hold doors open for their womenfolk don’t suddenly go on the rampage, do they?’

Sam felt the strong hand of Teal’c lifting her up. She was gasping for breath and her head spun. As the growing crowd pressed around them, Sam blinked rapidly and looked for Daniel. For a fleeting moment she saw him to her right, pushing the pressing throng back and then, as he disappeared from view, her heart sank with a foreboding sense of 20/20 hindsight. The crowd was real. Its wild fervour was real. Its focus was not the visitors from Earth. This was not an ambush but some completely unexpected social dispute. Looking at the gestures and hearing the chanting it really could be some sort of factional sporting clash. It was obvious, however, that planned or not, the crowd was doing what all crowds do. Swaying, rolling back and forth, SEPARATING. As Sam inwardly cursed at the team’s apparent bad luck, she instinctively jerked her free arm. She realised she had felt a sharp jab and for the second time in as many minutes Sam Carter felt herself sink under trampling feet, knowing full well she wasn’t going to get up this time.

Chapter 11

Teal’c was frantic, really frantic. He had fought many battles in his four score plus years. His senses were acute and his reflexes honed to the optimum. But, in all his experience as Apophis’ First Prime, he had never found himself surrounded by a directionless, weaponless stampede – such things just didn’t happen. In his days of ‘Tau’ri Research’ he did remember seeing similar images – riots in Los Angeles, marches descending into mayhem outside various world trade conventions. He remembered riot police with batons and powerful water canons but as he desperately tried to keep hold of Major Carter’s arm while keeping close to Daniel, he had no idea how to fight a mob single-handed. This, he realised, was the purpose of a riot. A group of people lost their identity and acted like a single monstrous animal.

‘Daniel Jackson, STAY!’ he bellowed.

Desperately, he watched the archaeologist push forward, vainly trying to make a passage towards the now illusive Stargate. Then he felt Carter fall again and turned to help her regain her balance. The sting of a needle was somehow not unexpected. Although he could do nothing to extract his team members from the frenzied mob, particularly with a long-range tactical weapon like a Staff, he had enough battle instincts to recognise the vulnerability of their position and surmise that an enemy might take advantage of it. Realising that there may be another reason why Major Carter had fallen he flexed his shoulders and pushed back as hard as he could. He hoped both to give himself enough space to gather up the fallen Major and throw his hidden assailant off balance. There couldn’t be more than one, could there?

Such is the nature of a heaving crowd, however, that as soon as he felt the pressure relieve it immediately rolled back, in an even more powerful wave, to the point of origin of initial disturbance. Half bent in an attempt to gather up Sam, Teal’c tried desperately to keep his balance. Looking up, to judge the distance to the crowd’s periphery, he belatedly realised his vision was already blurring.

It was then that he saw the Facilitator’s peculiar hair-style-enhanced silhouette in front of him. He felt a light punch to his stomach and was aware of a puzzled look on her face. He realised that, by some unlikely fluke, their duplicitous guide had succeeded in injecting her drug straight into his Symbiote infant’s pouch.

The crossed slit that marked the opening to the strange Goa’uld kindergarten, possessed by all Jaffa, was not normally considered a vulnerability. The muscles that surrounded it were well developed and Jaffa wore imposing armour when in service to their Gods. Teal’c hoped for a fleeting moment that the sedative that was already afflicting his sight and motor responses would not affect the larva within him, or the larval fluid that protected it. And then he felt a crippling cramp across his midriff. He sank down beside the stricken form of the female member of SG1. He wondered momentarily if the Goa'uld within him was trying to escape or was just going into some sort of epileptic fit and then another excruciating cramp overcame him.

Chapter 12

Daniel Jackson was hiding. It wasn’t particularly noble or courageous but he hoped, reflecting briefly on his missing team leader, that it was wise. Somehow he had found himself on his knees at the edge of the terrifying riot that had so recently overtaken The Place Of The Everlasting Ring.

‘Guess they named it that when this Ice Age started to take a grip,’ he mused. ‘And they’re right. It would survive, even if everything else on the planet was destroyed’.

He knew instinctively that neither Sam nor Teal’c was behind him and he couldn’t help a moment of indecision. As he had looked back he saw the crowd roll towards him once more. He pushed himself to his feet and fled. Even he realised the timing of this dramatic event was fortuitous if not downright damning. He wasn’t sure if his compatriots were just physically overwhelmed or if something more sinister had happened but he knew the benefit of staying free and he damn well knew there was nothing he could do in the face of such a chaotic, animalistic force.

He didn’t want to go far, however, and spying an abandoned food kiosk down a nearby side street he did a passable impression of his more militarily trained colleagues and vaulted the opening. He even landed on his feet although he wished he hadn’t landed on what looked like a now flattened carton of local hamburgers. At least the carton was flattened but the meat patties were slipping and sliding all over the place. He was so caught up in shovelling the mess to one side he almost didn’t notice that the deafening roar that had been reverberating around the square since the arrival of the first rioters had suddenly dissipated.

From his crouching position he took a moment to carefully peak out and see what was happening. Then he heard the klaxon. He realised he had heard it before but had not appreciated it’s significance. The figures in front of him obviously did, however. Where moments before there had been fury and determination on the faces of the rioting Citizens, Daniel now noticed raw and palpable fear. He wondered whether he should also have reason for fear, over and above the obvious disappearance of the rest of his team, that was.

It was then that he noticed the blood red clad figures that had emerged from various streets surrounding the square. They all held what looked suspiciously like guns and, although a number did not look particularly comfortable with their current occupation, it was obvious that this was a group of people used to enforcing control. For a brief moment it looked like the crowd would forget it’s fear and turn on the encircling police? Army? Daniel thought it looked like the soldiers would fire their weapons. He thought of Northern Ireland in Europe and the British Army’s desperate and foolhardy habit of firing plastic bullets at allegedly armed ‘freedom fighters’. The fall out was always worse than the original reason for authorising gunfire – well, at least, that was the case on his world.

Then the klaxon sounded again and three or four peripheral rioters were grabbed by the oxblood coloured figures. The reaction from the crowd was amazing. Those nearest their captured colleagues shrank back, their fear at being similarly snatched a real and tangible force. A gap was made in the encircling ring of force and Citizens who, seconds before, had been shouting and gesticulating started to make a rapid and undignified retreat. It was then that Daniel put together what had been the main hue and cry of the crowd – up until then his only concern had been survival.

‘NO MORE STAMPS. JUSTICE NOT JUDGEMENT.’

The first part of the chant made no sense at all.

‘What would a civilisation of this size and obvious sophistication need with an manual postal system that still used stamps’ he puzzled. He gave himself a mental smack. This was not the time to get all facetious. ‘No, A Stamp, whatever that was, was obviously a more serious societal tool. And it was coupled with a universal call for what sounded like equal rights.’

The anthropological part of Daniel’s mind immediately started sifting the information he had to hand: a closed and restricted community that lived in fear, day in and day out, of an apocalyptic end to their world; a secret and apparently downtrodden workforce that appeared to be ignored and unacknowledged by the majority of the city dwelling population; a convoluted but innately unimaginative culture that smacked of repression and restricted beliefs. The place was like a Tower of Babel, figuratively and literally.

And then he realised. There had been an underlying tension in everyone he had met. Everyone had been eager if not over keen to please and impress. People didn’t step out of line in this place. There was some sort of terror of punishment – a punishment so fatal that it could stop a 200 strong riot in seconds. In fact, Daniel was astounded that a riot could have ever been initiated in this cultural atmosphere in the first place. The only reason he could think of was that the society itself was on the brink of collapse. ‘And Jack just went storming into this place’s political leader’s office to tell him to sort out his labour problem! Oh my god!’ Daniel suddenly felt very afraid. ‘If Administrator Calder had any thought that Jack was going to broadcast his feelings about the apparent use of slave labour to keep this city going? And if those ‘slaves’ have been forcibly recruited from the City’s population?’

He knew instinctively that the Administrator would do anything to stop dissension in his government or his people. ‘He probably mistakenly thinks he’s acting for the good of the majority. Not Babel, it’s 1930’s Berlin! God, when you think of what Hitler did to distract the inter-war German nation from its overwhelming problems of hyperinflation, starvation and economic decline…. These guys in red are like his SS and Blackshirts. And no one wanted to be labelled a Jew, gypsy, mental retard or straightforward traitor to the cause! What’s the betting that people disappear in this quadrant of the Universe much as they did in pre-war Nazi Germany?’

Daniel also knew - it was a well-debated fact - that a tyrant like Hitler used war and the conquering of other territories as a useful release valve, when the pressures of ruling a society by force and coercion became too great. Distract society with greater evils. Offer individuals the chance for glory. And promise everyone riches beyond imagination.

‘But what do you do when there is no where else to turn, no other enemies to fight?’

His mental history lesson was over. Daniel knew that P3R118 was teetering on the edge of social collapse. Into this mess had walked first SG7 and then SG1, bringing with them the promise of new worlds, an opportunity to turn a pressure cooker society outwards and away from it’s self made torture. What, then, does Colonel O’Neill, who clearly represents to the Administrator a timely salvation, go and do? He tells him, in simple plain English, to go stuff it. This time Daniel spoke out loud.

‘We’ve become the enemy! There’s no one else for him to lash out at. We are in big trouble.’

Daniel knew he wasn’t a coward but he suddenly felt very sick. He wondered again about ‘The Stamp’. And his concern grew rapidly for Sam, Teal’c and the missing Colonel. He wondered if he could reach the DHD and dial out. He wasn’t happy with the idea of running out on his friends but he thought, maybe, he could get a message through to Stargate Command.

Once again he raised his head above the counter of his abandoned food stall. The square was rapidly emptying and there was no sign of Carter or Teal’c. In fact, apart from a discarded garment and a small amount of debris the place looked as peaceful as it had when they had first entered so very recently. Everything about the view in front of him suggested a trap however, so Daniel ducked back down and looked instead for the back exit to the Kiosk.

Opening the door just a crack, he could see the last of the aborted rioters streaming past and decided it would be better to risk the cover of the crowd than wait until the place became deserted. He stripped off his jacket and grabbed the overall he spied hanging up at the back of the stall. There was nothing he could do about his trousers but at least they were standard issue Air Force blue instead of camouflage. He also took off his belt and gun harness and slipped the handgun into the front of his trousers, under the apron. He smiled briefly as he remembered to check the safety was on. He had only taken a matter of seconds but already the crowd was thinning and he slid open the door and stepped as confidently as he could into the press of departing figures.

As the straggling group he had joined moved forward, he felt a surge of relief and then he remembered that this society was held together by fear. He heard a cry and felt his arm being tugged. Turning to his assailant he was astonished to see a young woman.

‘Acolyte? ACOLYTE!’

‘What are you doing?’ Daniel gasped.

The woman looked at him with controlled fury.

‘You are a danger to Citizenship. I saw your picture on the broadcast this afternoon. ACOLYTE, HELP!’ The woman then jerked back from Daniel and grabbed at various people around them.

‘Help me denounce this dissenting traitor.’

She actually looked triumphant. It was if all the fear that she had so recently been carrying had been transformed. She could erase the blemish of being seen to support the uprising by turning in this despicable traitor.

Daniel stood helpless. In front of him were about 8 or 9 confrontational Citizens and, now, as he whirled around, he faced three soldiers, Acolytes. ‘Helpers! What an ironic title!’ The translation flashed unbidden into Daniel’s academic mind. He spread his hands out defensively in front of him, hoping the universal position of surrender was recognisable to the advancing figures in front of him. He still had the hidden gun. He knew it could not help him right now and he quaked inwardly at the thought of using the damn thing but maybe if they led him to the others….

The first so-called Acolyte reached him and grabbed his arm and then he saw the Administrator. He knew Jack thought the guy was up his own backside but Daniel saw something else as the man came towards him. Administrator Calder looked like someone who liked to do his own dirty work - behind a protective curtain of the local SS, maybe, but he definitely ruled by example.

‘Where have you been, Dr. Jackson?’ The Administrator smiled coldly. ‘We missed you earlier. The others were worried when you got separated from them.’

For an instant Daniel wondered if he had got it all wrong. He desperately hoped he would see a smiling Jack, Sam and Teal’c come round the corner after the Administrator, disproving all his wild theories. But then his arm was yanked out straight in front of him and Daniel was brutally reminded of the Acolytes who had taken up positions around him. He struggled briefly and then realised it would be to no effect. His heart sank as he raised his chin defiantly at the tyrant he now saw before him. But Calder was momentarily looking at someone else.

‘Well done, Ballin. I shall be able to award your sister extra merits for this. Brenna serves the City and our Deity well. As do you.’

The woman who had so callously announced Daniel’s presence was looking down at the floor. As Daniel twisted his head to see her reaction, he thought he spotted a small grateful smile.

‘It is my honour to serve, Administrator.’ Daniel had not heard that submissive salutation before and he had a feeling she had used it deliberately.

‘Go and tend to the rest of your family, Ballin. I will not ask what you are doing here, this time.’

The Administrator’s reply was quiet and icily cold. Daniel didn’t doubt the implicit threat in his words and his forgiving heart realised that this woman had somehow been put into an impossible position. And then the seemingly diminutive man turned back to SG1’s honorary diplomat.

Daniel ran through all his usual pleas for acceptance. He’d offered up enough in the last four years. Before he had a chance to say anything, however, the City’s leader brought up his arm. As his loose sleeve fell back, Daniel saw a cylinder with what looked like a needle sticking out of the end. The inevitability of his situation hit him like a blow to the stomach and his eyes flickered downwards for a moment. Then, in a pointless but self gratifying flash of defiance, Daniel Jackson caught and held the Administrator’s eyes as whatever drug had been contained in the syringe was injected forcefully into his arm.

He swore, in that instant, that he would find a way to escape this place and he when he did he would try and take as many of this man’s ‘victims’ with him. Then all he knew was blackness.

Chapter 13

Daniel Jackson wished the drug that seeped through his veins would make his mind as sluggish as it was making his body. He was in a blindingly white room. There was a door to one side. The walls were smooth, almost reflective. The floor under his body was cold. And there was a very ominous looking chair in the middle of the room. He was totally incapacitated and laid out prone on the floor. Daniel stared up at the two Citizens, also dressed in white, towering above him, taking in his surroundings distractedly. The rest of his mind was on something else completely.

‘Why are they taking my clothes off? And why can I do nothing to stop them?’ He felt more embarrassed than scared. Very quickly he found himself completely naked and he couldn’t even draw his hands together to cover himself in some semblance of modesty. His feeling of total vulnerability was made even worse by the callous, seemingly disinterested attitude of his captors. Not that he particularly wanted them to pay him any closer attention but it was as if he didn’t matter, had no value whatsoever.

One of the Citizens left briefly and returned with a bundle in her hands. Daniel was shivering from the cold in the room and he felt queasy and disoriented. As the second Citizen pulled him roughly up to a sitting position, he felt a single tear well up, against his own wishes, and start to roll down his cheek. The woman was deliberately avoiding his gaze but the brightness in the room obviously caused the moisture to flash momentarily and instinctively she looked up at him. The look was gone almost before it was started but in that instant Daniel thought, hoped, he saw an inkling of compassion.

He held onto this hope, as the bundle of fabric was unfurled to reveal a basic overall. The hardness had returned to the woman’s face and, although he was acutely relieved to regain some sort of decency, his unresponsive body was carelessly manhandled by both his captors, legs and arms stuffed brutally into the loose openings of the garment.

‘Ouch’ he thought angrily. ‘Don’t they realise I can feel this?’ His inability to even get his mouth working worried him and he wondered how many people before him had been brought to this room and suffered in silence. He tried not to think what else might be in store and wondered instead whether the rest of SG1 had been put through the same ordeal. His mind shuddered in horror at the thought of Sam having to endure the experience and then a small drop of amusement seeped into his thoughts at the idea of how Jack might have reacted.

‘Not a happy camper, that’s for sure!’

Now clothed in the white overalls, Daniel was grabbed by the male Citizen again and thrust into the metal chair. His attention was brought back to his situation and he shivered. No padding but this place was far too familiar. At least it didn’t smell like Mental Health and he took heart in the fact that he felt perfectly sane. The chair was another matter, altogether. He realised the drug must be wearing off slightly as he felt his arm resist the pressure of the grip which brought the limb unfailingly out towards a hard, flat armrest. He was even able to turn his head slightly and that was when he saw the restraint swing over and clamp his forearm into place. Then his vision was restricted again as a rough hand grabbed his neck back and forced another clamp into position just under his chin. He felt three maybe more similar restrictions. As it dawned on him that he was now able to make his body move in protest he became aware that the attempt was futile. He was completely immobilised, just as he had been before, but instead of a chemically induced stasis he was physically bound hand, foot and anywhere else you care to mention.

A voice boomed out, from where he knew not.

‘Let’s begin the procedure.’

Chapter 14

The probes were already burning Jack’s scalp, at least that was what it felt like. At first he had been more concerned that they were shaving his head. OK so his haircut wasn’t always strictly military but he didn’t remember asking any one to give him a short back and sides. ‘FOR CRYING OUT LOUD!’ This situation definitely warranted his favourite phrase if only he could utter it. It soon became evident however that the crude coiffure had been a precursor to attaching what were quite clearly electrical contacts. He felt the first one jab into the base of his scull and his reflex to move away brought him up sharply against the restraint around his neck. He felt three more jabs into his neck and then his apparent torturer walked around to face him and forced two more into his temples. More probes appeared in the periphery of his vision. His whole head was now throbbing but he thought he felt more stinging bites behind his ears and at the corner of his jawbone.

‘Hey’ he exclaimed finally, as he felt an involuntary spasm across his shoulders and down his arms. ‘A little bedside manners would be nice!’

OK, so this metal contraption wasn’t exactly a bed and he didn’t think he was strapped down for any particularly benevolent purpose, but it didn’t hurt to ask. It didn’t. Apart from maybe mild surprise that he had spoken no one reacted to him at all. He was half expecting a thump or maybe a backhand across the face – he been in enough situations where violent reprisals were the first order of the day. These guys were creeping him out. They just didn’t seem to care.

He tried not to remember his previous experiences of torture but he did remember that there were two sorts of torturer. The first was the passionate believer who was doing unto you what he felt had been done unjustly unto him and his kind. The other, he now remembered, was more dangerous – much more dangerous. This was a person who, somewhere along the line, had lost their sense of humanity. It almost always came from trauma. He recognised that the figures who had dispassionately manipulated him into this position were people who had seen too much and could do nothing about it, who were probably protecting loved ones or living in daily fear of retribution. The brain just shut down and went onto autopilot and when this happened the person became capable of treating another individual as if they were just so much dead meat.

‘Dead meat. Damn. We’re in trouble.’ He knew he was dealing with people who had done what they were doing a thousand times. He knew he was nothing to them. The only thing he could do was to try to guess their objective and counter it. Before he could do anything, however, the two white figures left closing the door behind them.

Time passed although he couldn’t tell how long and then he heard laughing. Children laughing. It was a delightful, evocative sound. Then, on the wall in front of him, a bright colourful image appeared. He was being shown children playing and laughing in a sunny park.

PAIN!

A small logical part of his brain associated thousands of sparks going off in his head with the electrical probes that had been so brutally attached to his skull. And then he forgot about logic.

HORROR!

The image on the wall was appalling. The little figures weren’t just dead they were ripped asunder. Jack desperately tried to turn his head away but the spasms returned and then he felt another searing jolt of pure agony. He wanted to shut it all out. The pictures, the screams, the smell, the pain. As the wall faded to white he felt a blissful moment of nothing. Mentally he reached out for the numbness. His mind thrashed out for an oasis, an iota of protection. The spasms stopped and he felt almost tranquil. The only nagging distraction was a throbbing pain in his right bicep.

Suddenly he was dragged back to the present. The sore pain in his arm was from an injection going straight into his muscle – an injection that had rendered him captive and terrorised. He was aghast at how rapidly he had succumbed. Rationally, he knew the inhabitants of P3R 118 had probably enslaved the majority of their surviving population. They probably had a very sophisticated and efficient way of controlling the workforce. He wondered if he was being arrogant to think he could somehow hold out.

‘But I have to,’ his mind cried out. ‘Blood of Sokar, Iraqian terror campaigns. I’m the one who’s bought the souvenir shop, not just the T-Shirt. I have to get through this. I have to get to the others. I have to get us out of here.’

The wall came to life again. This time it was a family. He knew what was going to happen. As the pain ripped through him, as the tragedy enacted out on the wall imprinted itself onto his retinas, Jack O’Neill did the only thing he could think of. With all his strength he pressed his upper arm against the restraint that held it. From some bizarre corner of his mind he thought of Michael Caine. The Ipcress File was one of his favourite old British movies and the character of Harry Palmer shoving a nail into his palm, over and over, to distract himself from the mind wiping treatment inflicted on him by his captors seemed, right now, like something he should emulate. The agony increased. The images dripped with blood and violence. He heard a voice scream and knew it was his own. But beneath it all he felt a dull throbbing ache and he grasped at its reality. Then he screamed again.

Chapter 15

Sam had a rational mind. She was less affected by the depersonalising stripping off of her clothing, than Daniel might have guessed. For a moment she had a fleeting memory of concentration camp victims being stripped before their final journey to the death showers. This feeling probably had something to do with the clinical atmosphere of her surroundings but then she analysed the situation further and decided that the Citizens probably had a more long-term plan in store. It was the only reason for her still being alive, she surmised.

She remembered nothing after she had lost consciousness in the middle of the recent riot. Her first thought on regaining awareness was for her friends. Were Daniel and Teal’c safe? What had happened to Jack? Then she became aware of how incapacitated she felt. She was left like this for some time, lying on frigid flooring, unable even to call out. She wondered if she had been forgotten. Just as she started to feel a tingling sensation in her toes and fingers the door opened and two figures entered.

As they grabbed hold of her uniform and started to pull it open her first instinct was to lash out. She immediately realised this was a mistake as the stronger of the two easily subdued her still weak limbs. The second figure brought a syringe out of her pocket and Sam realised she was going to be injected again. She was surprised that she didn’t lose consciousness this time. Maybe it was a smaller dose or even a different drug.

‘Who would have thought these people would have such sophisticated narcotics?’ she wondered.

Fully immobile again Sam mentally removed herself from the degrading spectacle of being stripped and re-clothed by total strangers and thought instead about the effects of mind-altering drugs and compromised brain chemistry. She had had enough experience what with Daniel’s bouts of psychosis, both with the Sarcophagus and Marchello’s little bugs. And then there had been that time when Janet and she had worked so hard on a way to remove the Dargol from the Vyans’ memory afflicted minds.

It had not been easy, on that occasion, to resort to asking for help from Linea ‘Destroyer of Worlds’, to find a cure. Then again, her rationality had told her that using the woman’s unique scientific knowledge was the only way they were going to find a cure for the population of Vyas. And because all of SG1 felt so responsible for the plight of these pleasant harmless people, a full cure was the only result any of them were prepared to accept.

When she felt the probes enter her scalp, Sam realised her current train of thought was not unwarranted. To distract her thoughts from the unpleasant procedure she ran through the various sections of the brain: the cerebrum; the cerebral cortex made up of gyri, separated by small grooves called sulci and larger grooves called fissures; the two cerebral hemispheres partially separated by the longitudinal fissure, bundles of axons, called commissures, the largest of which is the corpus callosum; the sulci and gyri dividing the cerebrum into five lobes: the frontal, parietal, temporal, and occipital lobes and the insula; the cerebellum located at the lower back of the brain beneath the occipital lobes, cerebellar peduncles, the brain stem—the midbrain, the pons, and the medulla oblongata; the thalamus and the hypothalamus, the amygdala, the Reticular Formation…

Dragged back to the present by another sharp jab, Sam realised that the position of the probes was too precise. The SGC’s resident medical chief, Janet Fraiser, had given Sam a crash course in memory and thought retrieval. Even with the enormous amount of time and effort that was being spent to try to understand how the process of encoding and recoding memories worked, there was still much that was a mystery. She felt certain, however, as she pieced together Linea’s and Janet’s expertise that her mind was going to be attacked and that it was an odds on favourite that the people behind the white walls were going to try and extract some knowledge or information from the recesses of her brain. That’s what she thought……….

‘Seemed a good idea at the time!’ Samantha Carter was amazed at her coherence of thought, wondering exactly how much time had actually passed since the excruciating procedure had begun. Synapses flared again. She was dimly aware that she had already seen the unavoidable display of death and destruction, being played out on the wall in front of her.

‘Are they going round again? Please no, don’t…’ She was also aware that her sense of why she even cared about the display was being eroded. She thought that maybe only her terror at losing herself was stopping her mind from shutting down completely.

‘ARHHHHHHHH!’

She had long ago given up trying to suppress her emotions. Internally, however, one more coherent thought played round and round in her mind.

‘They’re not interested in memory retrieval. They want to shut my memory down. This is shock therapy. They are trying to traumatise my mind. They…. They…. Think, Carter, think! What was it you told Jack about trauma victims in the Gulf War? Amnesia. Trauma induced amnesia…….

‘I must not forget….…

‘I must not forget. I know there is a reason…. I must not forget…….’

Chapter 16

Teal’c really hadn’t felt this sick in a long time. The pain was something he could bear but the sickness was something else entirely. He had heard the expletives and exclamations from his captors as he struggled in their grasp. If he had not been bent double by cramps and seizures he really felt he could have broken free. The red and white clad figures that tied him down obviously seemed in confusion at his continued struggle and as the uneven battle continued he felt more and more injections being driven into his body.

His Goa’uld larva was not happy, that was for sure. He had been extremely relieved when he realised the creature was not attempting to leave his body but the chemical that coursed through him was apparently quite toxic to the infant symbiote. And then the torture started. Teal’c had suffered at the hands of a Goa’uld Torture Rod on a number of occasions. For all sentient beings it was unimaginably painful but for Jaffa it was particularly distressing because the electrical current amplified through the symbiotic fluid in their larval pouch like a super conducting battery. By unfortunate chance the electric shock treatment. that accompanied the visceral visual and auditory attack being played out in front of him, had reproduced the same agonising experience.

Teal’c tried to think strategically. No one had asked him any questions. He did not understand the meaning of this procedure. But he did know the combination of physical and chemical stress on his larva and his own body was beginning to take its toll. And, on top of that, the sickness that wrenched at his gut was being magnified and duplicated by the sickness that was being played out in front of his eyes. His only salvation - and he felt a deep burning shame at the thought - was that he had seen and had partaken in many actions that compared to the barbarities on show. And somehow his psyche had survived intact. Now if only he could stop the sickness.

Chapter 17

Servitor Lise watched the green monitors set up along one wall of her small office. She was a slim woman who chose to wear much simpler styles than most of her fellow Citizens. She took her designation very seriously and felt her attire should reflect the pure devotional nature of her work. It was a great honour to run the Relearning Unit. The four subjects currently going through the Memory Stamp were not responding to the process very well, however, and her brow creased in confusion.

She remembered when the blond woman, Major Carter as she had been named in her pre-convicted life, had been shown round the City’s Medical Resource. She had called their brain scanning technique ‘functional magnetic resonance imaging (fMRI)’. A long but in essence an accurate description of the process. Apparently she had been involved in some very difficult memory retrieval research not that long ago and had been impressed by the sophistication of the procedures on display.

Lise gave a mental shrug. There was nothing special about the brain scanners or about understanding memory as far as she was concerned. The City’s system for rehabilitating criminals who had forfeited their right to Citizenship had been running smoothly for at least two generations now: having prepared the subject for Stamping, the mind wipe procedure repressed the problem personality through electro-convulsive stimulation. The new worker was then prepared for Underground Section Society by the next procedure that seeded a new productive personality into the empty shell. In recent times an extra fourth procedure had been introduced to sterilize the worker. It had long been recognised that completely preventing sexual interaction in the Worker’s Sections was impossible and counter-productive. So were unwanted children, however, and it had been deemed most civilised to remove the possibility of pregnancy except in controlled environments. The only problem these days was the increasing instance of night sickness, as the workers called it, in the underground community. Memory trauma seemed to be on the increase and Lise had been given special permission to study the condition.

So far her investigations had been frustratingly unproductive. Unfortunately, she felt seriously hindered by the City Scriptures that dictated that most elements of the Memory Stamp procedure be sacrosanct and not witnessed by the Servitors who carried out the operation. She had decided to start her investigations by studying the tranquilliser that was given to each subject during the preparation cycle of the procedure. She wondered if the drug’s emotion numbing properties were somehow conflicting with the rest of the process.

The introduction of Calming had been heralded as the height of Civility when it had been introduced. Many Citizens had argued that the criminal about to be stamped should not be given the privilege of Calming before undergoing the procedure – they deserved the discomfort of knowing what was going to happen to them - but the City population as a whole prided itself on it’s civilised moral values. Servitor Lise reminded herself again that the winning referendum had nothing to do with personal concerns about associates, friends or relatives who had strayed from the Believer’s Guide and been found guilty of crimes against Civilisation.

‘Thank god I have no dependents,’ she muttered to herself. She wasn’t sure if her relief came from knowing she would never have to live with the shame of a Stampee in her family or from a fear of being unable to protect a loved one from the wrath of the Administrator and his fellow City Elders. She had yet to present her primary report to Administrator Calder. She was glad that, with the arrival of the ‘Earth’ criminals, he had been distracted, allowing her more time to try to assess her results.

She tore her gaze away from the monitors and stared at her notes once more. As she tried to correlate the data with previous studies, her mind went back once again to the young man in Unit 1. She had long ago stopped feeling any empathy with Stampees. She knew they were lucky to be given the chance to still be productive and contribute to the City’s survival. She didn’t even care any more of what crimes each new subject had been convicted – there were too many to remember them all anyway. Even the sight of the alien ‘human’ strangers being brought into the Relearning Unit did not particularly surprise her. Amongst much of the City’s dome population there had been understandable excitement along with a good deal of trepidation at their arrival at the Everlasting Ring. Servitor Reymond had voiced the concerns of many at second break earlier.

‘The Beliefs state that the City’s Balance must not be disturbed, you know that Lise.’ Reymond jabbed at the broadcast screen at the end of their table. The faces of the newcomers were quickly replaced by scenes of disturbance in the Education Arena. ‘See, they are already causing trouble in the fringes of the City.’

Lise hadn’t been convinced by this simple analogy as she quickly processed the new subjects, glad that pre-administering of the Calming had lessened her work. Her own priority had been to get the job done and get it done quickly. Reymond and she sometimes timed one another to see if they could finish the preparation procedure any quicker. From one prospective Stampee to the next, they clinically went about their work. When they had come to one previously known as Dr. Jackson, however, she had been mildly embarrassed when she realised that she was physically aroused by his physique and particularly by his vivid blue eyes. As her gaze was drawn once more to his face she caught a momentary flash and looked closer.

‘Water? A tear? Calming removes emotion from the Stamping procedure. Why is he crying?’

She was shocked and, she realised, vaguely appalled. She dragged her eyes away from his passionate gaze and the glistening moisture on his face and gave Reymond a quick glance. He didn’t appear to have noticed anything and, while her hands mechanically went about attaching the Stimulation Probes to the young man’s head, her mind raced back to her research. Maybe it was because these people were different in some way to Citizens? Or was her research true? Did the tranquilliser only numb the body and not the mind?

The Servitors moved efficiently onto the woman and the older man. Both showed disturbing behaviour not normal in Calmed Stampees muttering and struggling and she had wondered about differences in blood chemistry between the two races. The fourth Stampee proved to be much more of a problem, however. He was very strong and had a strange opening in his stomach that might have been interesting to study further. The problem appeared to be that Calming was not taking a hold on the large man at all. He writhed and fought and Servitor Reymond had to call for extra Acolytes to restrain the subject. Lise was now desperate to get back to her research. After repeated doses of the tranquilliser had had little effect, they had decided that the one known as Teal’c was apparently not destined to be blessed with Calming.

‘He must have done something very evil,’ said one of the City’s enforcement officers. Acolytes were always chosen for being hard-core devotees of City Scripture and the Believer’s Guide. To everyone but Lise the man’s suggestion seemed as good a reason as any for this criminal’s rejection of the drug. Lise’s curiosity had been stimulated, however, and as she monitored the progress of the Stamp back in her office, she wondered again about the solitary tear that had rolled down Dr. Jackson’s cheek.

She decided to take a closer look at his brain image.

‘That’s not possible!’

She realised she had exclaimed out loud as she quickly enlarged the area of the brain that Major Carter had called the Frontal Lobe. Instead of showing grey – a sign that this part of the memory retrieval process was shutting down – a significant area had turned dark blue. And there was another patch lit up on his left ‘Temporal Lobe’. Dr. Jackson was talking. Talking was not possible during the mind wipe procedure and anyway, what would a brain that had shut down all episodic memory from the past have to talk about?

Lise had never seen this type of feedback on a brain scan in her whole career as a Memory Stamp Servitor. She got up from her desk and paced up and down the length of the room. She wondered if, in their haste, Reymond and she had done something wrong. She was proud of her success record as a Servitor. She definitely did not want to get into trouble. The problem was, the only way she could think of correcting the problem, was to go back into the Unit and check the pre-stamp procedure. Maybe a probe was not positioned correctly. Maybe not enough Calming had been administered. She had never thought or cared about why no one was allowed to enter the Unit once the mind wipe process had started but she did know the penalty for breaking a Scripture. A cold sweat crept over her face and neck as she contemplated entering the room.

Another glance at Unit 1’s monitor told Lise that nothing had changed. Administrator Calder had announced that he would be personally overseeing these Stamps. He was bound to be along any time soon and she knew she had to do something before he arrived. She left her office and closed the door behind her quietly. All the Units were on the floor below and she quickly made her way to the one that held the troublesome Earth alien. When she reached the door her hesitancy returned. Should she interrupt the procedure or should she try to correct the problem while it continued? Worried about what might happen if she tried to stop the programme midway, she decided to enter just the unlock code in the door display and with one hurried look up and down the corridor to check she was not observed she slid into the Unit.

Smell. It was the first sense that was assaulted. The room stank of a decaying meat and rancid blood. It wasn’t a smell she was particularly familiar with, as the City canteens processed all nourishment but she knew she was repulsed and sickened and hardly dared turn her head towards the subject. What she wanted to do was get out quickly and run away as far as possible. Instead she kept her head pointing towards the floor and staggered over towards the far wall. It was as she got close she realised the wall wasn’t blank any more but was projecting images and a sudden screeching sound caused her head to jerk up and take in the full gory site of a young man being decapitated.

Panting and sweating, her head spinning, Lise turned her body towards Dr. Jackson. It felt like she was wading through water and she wasn’t sure she would ever get the disgusting scene behind her out of her mind. She tried to engage her intellect and understand what was going on in this room. Scriptures! It was pretty obvious why the City government had imposed a law against observation of the Stamping procedure. She couldn’t believe she had had no idea of what happened in these rooms. As her vision began to refocus she started to wonder how much she really had known and had chosen to ignore.

The man in front of her was still immobilised. The restraints were not designed to hurt the Stampee but they were not covered in any way and she could see that he had been struggling to free himself and there were red marks showing at his wrists and neck. Every so often he jerked involuntarily and she thought back to the power spikes she regularly monitored from the sanitised safety of her office. It was his face that captivated her, however. For an instant she did forget the tragic and disturbing sights, sounds and smells pumping through the Unit as she stared at his anguished face. Against all odds, the ‘Doctor’ human appeared to still have at least partial memory retrieval and his mouth was moving with an agile constant action. She stepped forward, surprised at how shaky her legs felt, and moved her ear closer to his mouth. When she got close enough to hear the soft words she realised she could not understand what he was saying. Facilitator Devon had explained to her the day before that the visitors spoke a very similar language to Citizens and that they had all sorts of theories as to why this was the case – on their world their language was called English she remembered. The tortured soul in front of her was definitely not speaking English, of that she was certain. As she continued to watch and listen she became mesmerised by the expressive mobility of the man’s face and the gentle if anguished persona he was still projecting.

‘Niente! Niente! Capisco niente! Jack, aiuto! Min fadli-ak saa:ad! Ana haasis nafs-i ta:baan, shadiid waja. Ana bardaan. Wagaf, wagaf! Jack? Teal’c, saa;ad. Achtung. Sprechen sie nicht, Sam.

Lise tried to pull herself together and check the probes. As she systematically reinserted each one she realised that she in fact recognised a few of the words tumbling out of the Stampee’s mouth. They were the names of his associates – the familiar names she had heard them use with one another rather than their titles. Dr. Jackson, Daniel, was calling out to his friends - desperately trying to hold onto his sense of self by somehow evoking memories of his colleagues.

Finishing her check she realised everything was set up correctly. This was yet another impossibility. Servitor Lise began to admire the subject for his singular will while at the same time being frustrated by the trouble he had given her. Not only had she broken Scripture, she had been made to confront the secrets and lies of her job, forcing her to absorb information she could definitely do without right now. She bent down slightly and looked once more into his eyes although this time he did not give her the look of appeal that he had done earlier. She wasn’t even sure if he saw her at all.

‘I cannot help you.’ She stated. ‘Stop worming into my conscience. I know this experience is terrible but if you are here you must deserve it. I do not.’

Not at all sure that she believed her own words, Lise took a deep breath and staggered to the door. As she swung it open and stepped into the corridor she exhaled, shuddering. The door closed and her eyes closed with it, her mind slipping back towards the torture chamber behind, even as she willed it not to.

‘Servitor Lise?’

Her eyes flew open and her heart leapt into her mouth. Wiping his hands distractedly on his outer coat and smiling ever so coldly, the foreboding figure of Administrator Calder stood over her, so close she could feel his breath on her face.

‘Administrator Calder! It is an honour to serve.’ She lowered her eyes and waited for a reply. When nothing was forthcoming she took another gulp of air.

‘I can explain, your eminence….’

‘I am sure you can, Lise.’ The smile was gone. She watched as he lifted his hand to her face and then dropped it to pick off a bit for debris from her shoulder, fastidious as ever. ‘I shall be very interested to hear your reason for breaking one of the City’s fundamental Scriptures. You know what the penalty is?’

‘Yes, your eminence, deportation to the Workers Section. I assure you it was most necessary. The Memory Stamp was not working. Dr. Jackson is still able to recall learning from his past life and he is in the third cycle of the procedure.’ She knew she was talking too fast. She must slow down and find some way out of this mess. ‘I knew you would be unhappy with the time it is taking to complete the mind wipe procedure. I was endeavouring to find a way of solving the problem. You did give me permission to study the Memory Stamp procedures.’

‘If I remember correctly there were very clear guidelines about what you could and could not do.’

Lise tried to stop her hands from trembling and jammed them into openings on either side of her robe. She knew now that worry for loved ones losing Citizenship and being deported beneath the Surface came nowhere near the terror of losing it, yourself. Her mind flitted back to the man in the room behind her. She remembered that his face had been shining with more tears and his eyes had looked so very haunted. She wondered at the revelation that she wanted to help him and then she bit down on her bottom lip.

‘I can only help myself. No one else will be there for me. If my friends’ fear is as great as mine they will only look out for themselves.’

It was the first time she had had this sad thought but the moment it sprang into her mind she knew it was true. The City ran on fear and it had done for a long time. She could even remember joining in discussions condoning the betrayal and denouncement of Citizens who broke Scripture. No friend was strong enough to be trusted to back you up. Everyone had too much to lose. She thought again of Dr. Jackson’s pleas to HIS friends. She knew they were to no avail. And then she had a further revelation. Major Carter, Colonel O’Neill and Teal’c could not help Dr. Jackson but they could help her.

‘Please, Administrator Calder, let me speak. There appears to be something different about these subjects’ brains. I was not convinced that the electro-convulsive stimulation and mind wipe procedure was going to work. I know I broke Scripture by entering the Unit during the procedure but I think I have found the answer to the problem.’

‘Go on.’ The voice did not sound encouraging but she knew she had got his attention.

‘These four subjects are very close and seem dependent on one another. I know I have never been exposed to the full procedure before today but it is obvious how it works.’ She couldn’t help another involuntary shudder. ‘Any mind, subject to direct electric stimulation and victimised via all the senses will ultimately suffer full functional retrograde amnesia – it is brilliant.’ She hoped her praise sounded convincing. ‘I think the problem is that the trauma material is not personal enough. I suggest we show each subject the suffering that his or her friends are going through. With the treatment they have already been through I believe this will have the effect we should have expected by now and their episodic memory will go into full repression fugue.’

She was aware of the man in front of her pulling back slightly and looked up at his appraising expression. Suddenly a broad smile broke across his haughty features.

‘A perfect solution. Well-done Lise. I am sure you are right and I did tell Colonel O’Neill I would SHOW him our methods.’

Chapter 18

‘My name is Jack.’ Stab. ‘My name is Jack’ Stab.

The silver-haired Colonel knew one thing. He had to hold on. He’d done it before and he could do it again. Focusing his entire mind on the throbbing ache in his arm he tried to remember who Jack was and what Jack did. He looked out for his team. He led them back to safety. He… He…..

‘CARTER!’

O’Neill had tried not to think of the rest of SG1 being captured and going through the same agonising mental torture. It had been easier to hope that they were still free. And then he saw the haggard face of his 2IC flickering on the wall opposite.

‘DANIEL!

He felt a sob well up. This was not right. He could not condone his friends going through this distress he was feeling. The pictures flashing in front of his fatigued eyes were raw and vivid. He saw despair and pain. He saw his own agony reflected in the people he most cared about and he knew he could do nothing about it.

‘TEAL’C!

Even the ox-like strength of Apophis’ former First Prime had been subdued. Jack O’Neill had always been sure he could survive anything and then he realised he had a terrible, wonderful weakness. It was wonderful to know how much these three people meant to him. It was terrible to know their suffering could inflict greater agony upon his psyche than he could possibly bear. In the centre of his vision he became aware of a white glow. In fact, it wasn’t something he saw – it was the absence of something inside his mind.

For one final fleeting moment the man that had been Colonel Jack O’Neill of the United States Air Force cried out to his friends and then the white light obliterated their names.

The absence grew.

A void opened.

Tranquillity seeped through his thoughts.

And then the white turned to black.

Chapter 18

Jona was cold. He was in a very dark place and the ground was rough under his hands and knees. His right arm was stiff as he clawed at the rubble and he rubbed it distractedly.

‘Jonajonajonajonajonajonajona’

The whispering sound was comforting. It sounded like his mother as she rocked him to sleep. As he scraped his knee again, on a hidden rock, he wished there was more illumination in the mine. It was a mine? Yes, the clinking grinding sounds in the distance held the familiar quality of hard work. He wasn’t sure how long he had been working this shift and he felt bone weary. He didn’t stop digging, however. He felt an overwhelming imperative to get his job done.

‘Itisanhonourtoserveitisanhonourtoserve’

The whispering melody had changed and he strained to hear what was being said. He wasn’t aware of his lips moving and the sound of his own voice startled him slightly.

‘It is an honour to serve.’ Yes, it was.

‘Sleepsleepsleepsleepsleep’

Jona felt as if a benediction had been placed upon his forehead and as his tired mind relaxed he curled up as tight as possible to warm his shivering limbs and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 19

‘What about this one – you have seeded him with a personality called Tor?’ Commandant Brenna looked at the fourth new worker sitting passively outside her office.

‘Brenna, I have to tell you some things.’ Brenna looked up at Lise in surprise. There was an anxious tone to her friend’s voice that she hadn’t heard before.

‘Teal’c, Tor is different from the others. He did not respond well to the Memory Stamp and I was not sure we could re-seed his personality.’

‘Is he a danger to the Section?’

‘I do not believe so. The final stage of the mind wipe procedure seemed to be very effective and his brain scans showed very little declarative activity before we took him into the Learning Unit. Brenna, I know Scripture bans observation of mind wiping but have you ever wondered how it works?’

Lise’s anxiety appeared to be increasing and Brenna wondered again about the four new workers. She knew their previous personalities. All commandants knew the history of their workforce. It enabled them to look out for troublemakers and where possible use non-declarative, procedural learning from their past lives to enhance the running of the section. In fact, she had been surprised when the four humans had been delivered to her section. She had understood that Tor, Jona, Carlin and Thera were being seeded for work in Section 8, the Ore Mines, although apart from Tor she wasn’t sure they would have survived the harsh conditions of the mines for very long.

‘Lise, you know it dangerous to do or say anything against Scripture. Why would I do such a thing?’

‘Well, you have challenged Beliefs and Scripture before.’

‘Not since I became Commandant of Section 23. Along with the Administrator’s blessing I have been very fortunate to be given this designation.’ She tried to speak with conviction.

Brenna thought back to the day when she had been given the job of running Section 23. She had been so close to being sent to the Relearning Unit for Memory Stamp. She had only been trying to cover for her sister’s recent anti-civic activities in the Education Unit by hiding the evidence of her sedition and she still didn’t know how she had been caught with the pamphlets in her bag. Somehow, however, she had gained a reprieve. She had had all citizenship privileges removed and had to live beneath the Surface but at least Ballin and her parents were safe.

‘You got this designation because you are good at what you do, Brenna. Don’t go giving Calder all the credit.’

Now Brenna knew there was something wrong. The all-important ‘by the book’ Servitor Lise would never normally refer to their leader without his title.

‘Lise’ she hissed. Looking around quickly as if expecting an Acolyte to pop up from behind her desk, Brenna pulled Lise over to the bench by the door. ‘What’s wrong?’

‘I think I did a terrible thing this week, Brenna, and I don’t know how to put it right.’ The Servitor continued in a rush. ‘Listen carefully. I don’t have much time. You were right. These workers were supposed to go to Section 8. It would have been a death sentence. You know they are not of our world. I expect you have also seen the reports linking their activities with the riots.’

‘Some more humans arrived today, did you know?’

Brenna watched Lise’s head jerk and eyed widen.

‘On the Believer’s Guide please let them leave soon. These four outstayed their welcome and the Administrator is very, very angry with them for some reason. And he is going to be angry with me when he realises I have brought them here.’ The woman shrugged and then grabbed her colleague’s hand earnestly.

‘I need to let you know something else. I don’t know why but I did not activate the sterilisation procedure. Yes, yes, I know that might cause problems. The point is Brenna, I think I have already violated these people too much and I could not bring myself to do more. No, sssssh, don’t say anything. Just promise me you will watch them closely. Oh and you should probably separate them as much as possible. I have to go.’

And with many questions unanswered, the tall stern Servitor stood up and made a rapid departure via the service exit.

Chapter 20

As the New Session klaxons went off, Thera prized her eyes open to face another day. She was very happy to be in Section 23. Looking after the generators was much more her thing than anything she might have done in the mines.

‘Although it is an honour to serve, whatever’ she muttered to herself. She was also pleased to have found an ally so quickly. When she had first arrived and been waiting outside the Commandant’s office, she had sat next to a young man called Carlin. He was very curious about the new Section and she had an instinct they would become friends. But then Carlin had been put into Kegan’s work group and, try as she might, Thera could not seem to get on with Kegan.

This animosity pretty much put an end to making friends with Carlin as well but she seemed to making a head start with another new arrival. Of course, Kegan didn’t seem to like Jona much either. She wondered whether all the engineering sections were so unfriendly. Everyone seemed to be quite defensive and unapproachable. She didn’t know why but she had a strong feeling that this wasn’t her style.

She went to Aisle 13’s basin and scrubbed her face with the ice-cold water. She had had a long day yesterday and although her chat with Jona after their session had been short, she wondered if she should not have snuck off and gone straight to bed instead. The point was, Jona made her laugh. She felt very relaxed in his company. She knew he was flirting with her but she didn’t mind. They hadn’t known one another long and a bit of light-hearted banter was a good antidote to the stresses of the section. Last night she had tried to explain to Jona about how inefficiently the generators were being run but he had soon shut her up to talk about the ‘more important subject of grey gloop nourishment versus beige gloop nourishment’.

Thera smiled to herself in memory of the silliness that had ensued and made her way to the food queue and morning line up. Her face dropped significantly when she saw who was serving the nourishment this session. Kegan had been quite hostile on the last occasion she had been serving and Thera didn’t fancy going through the antagonism again.

‘Do you think it will be grey or beige today, Thera, or will they surprise us and go for a nice shade of green?’

She turned and smiled again. Jona had slid into place behind her in the queue. She was relieved to see him and felt certain she wouldn’t have to fight her battles on her own today.

Chapter 21

Teal’c felt much better but disoriented. He remembered waking in the night with a burning imperative to do something called Kell No Reem. At the time he thought he might be going night sick but then he remembered he had to concentrate and relax. Gazing at the one of the distant braziers he felt his mind go empty and sensed the presence of another consciousness deep within him. For a moment he panicked but then he let his mind go empty again and drifted off into a deep state of trance. When he awoke he knew he was still not 100% but he also knew there was no such thing as night sickness. He had a feeling his larva had been through a very great trauma but at least things seemed to be on the mend.

As he washed and prepared to go and join the food queue, he tried to work out where he was and what he was doing dressed in homespun brown work clothes. He remembered the riot in the Square and he remembered being administered some sort of drug. He also remembered that he was called Tor and this was particularly confusing. Although the memories were scarce and fading rapidly, he was aware of a whole life working in a place called Section 8. Deciding he could not do much about these confusing thoughts, he put them to one side and looked around to see if he could see the rest of SG1, fervently hoping that they had not been taken somewhere else.

His heart lifted when he saw Daniel Jackson making his way to the food queue ahead of him. The doctor had lost his glasses somewhere along the way. He was also wearing clothes similar to the rest of the workers and he looked very different from the scholar that Teal’c had come to expect – more physical and, by his stance, aggressively defensive.

The tall Jaffa wondered whether Daniel had conflicting memories also and tried to work his way past the group in front of him to get to the doctor. The strong imposing knot of workers from Aisle 8 had other ideas, however, and was quite determined not to be overtaken. He tried to go round them but a particularly aggressive worker gave him a shove in the stomach and he was reminded of the pain he had felt in his abdomen on waking. He had guessed he had been sick and he knew his larva was not functioning completely as expected, either. He assessed the situation and decided he would get to Daniel after he had been served. From his memories as Tor he was pretty certain the seating arrangements in the eating area of the factory were pretty informal. He watched Daniel edge forward and then he felt a surge of relief. Just in front of Daniel Jackson Teal’c spotted Colonel O’Neill and Major Carter. They were all together. Now all they had to do was think of a strategy to get out of this place.

He surveyed the section once more, making a more detailed assessment of exits and vantage points than the cursory investigation he had made on waking. He was aware of the steps leading up to Commandant Brenna’s office and as he looked up Brenna appeared to announce the latest successes of the Section. As everyone cheered he looked back at his friends and compatriots. He was surprised to see them salute the Commandant. They may have been falsifying their behaviour like him but they were all very convincing and he couldn’t help the feeling of uncertainty that crept into his mind. Major Carter was now by the serving station and his thoughts were dramatically interrupted as he suddenly became aware of an argument between O’Neill and Daniel Jackson. His foreboding increased.

Chapter 22

Carlin was hungry and grumpy. He knew he had no reason to be. He didn’t much like the work he was doing and he was bored most of the time but that was no reason to have a go at Jona. OK, so the man was a bully. He had not needed Kegan to tell him that.

‘Just because he had been a foreman in the mines. Why does that give him the right to go around giving orders? And doesn’t he know the rules around here yet.’

Carlin wasn’t sure that Thera would thank Jona for interfering in her argument with Kegan. Kegan had been very clear when he joined her work group.

‘You have to look after No.1 here Carlin. You fight your own battles in Section 23. I’m an exception, you know. Don’t expect to make a lot of friends.’

Kegan had been running through the Section’s main Scripture when some belligerent comment from Jona, over by the steam pistons, had distracted their conversation.

‘You are listening to me aren’t you? I’m not interested in anyone who doesn’t pull his or her weight. My work group is one of the most productive in the Section and I am not prepared to cover for someone who doesn’t do their fair share. Nor will anyone else.’

Although she had been stern he also sensed that she was trying to help him by making sure he understood the rules of the Section before he got into any trouble. Carlin had felt very out of place when he first arrived. Thera had rattled off a whole load of stuff about the generators as they had waited to see Commandant Brenna. Jona had been overbearing and seemed to think every one else loved the sound of his voice as much as he did. Carlin wasn’t sure about Tor at all – he was so silent and he had that strange gold emblem on his forehead which Carlin had not seen anywhere else.

It was actually a relief to be put into Kegan’s work group. Even though she didn’t give him much slack, he felt himself rising to the challenge. He surmised this growing sense of confidence and assertiveness was something new and he was surprised how much he liked it. He just wished he could be given something more interesting to do than cleaning and greasing the traction joints. Well, at least he didn’t have to work with Mr. Authority.

His thoughts were dragged back to the present as he heard Thera asking for bread. As Kegan explained there wasn’t any, Carlin could see that Jona was poking his nose in where it wasn’t wanted as usual. Bristling with aggravation, Carlin turned to Jona. He had a feeling he didn’t normally pick fights but what the hell. Maybe it would do them both good if he told Jona what he really thought of him.

‘Is there a problem here?’

Jona gave him a dismissive look.

‘Stay out of this.’

‘Jona, there are other people waiting.’

Oh what a surprise! The man just ignored him and attacked Kegan.

‘GIVE HER THE DAMN BREAD!’

As the older man grabbed hold of Kegan’s arm, something flipped in Carlin’s brain.

‘Not this time you arrogant son of a bitch.’ With this thought spinning around in his head, he grabbed hold of Jona around his chest. Kegan’s arm sprang free and he felt suitably triumphant. The feeling was only fleeting, however, as next moment he found himself slammed into the ground on his back with his opponent’s weight on top of him. As the air whooshed out of his lungs, he tried to push the stronger man away and then he felt the pressure lift. As he skidded backwards, he realised Tor had grabbed hold of Jona and pulled him off.

Carlin’s back throbbed and he gasped for breath. Not quite sure what was going to happen next, he staggered to his feet and prepared himself for another attack. Jona was well and truly pinned, however, and his struggle with Tor appeared to be futile.

‘This is not right. The two of you are friends, O’Neill.’

What was Tor saying? Jona struggled again.

‘Just stay out of it!’

‘We are part of something called SG1. I am Teal’c. Do you not remember?’

‘Somebody get this guy off of me.’

There was a sudden sense of urgency in the room. Tor’s behaviour seemed totally at odds with the situation. Two or three other workers sprang forward and grabbed the tall man. As Jona stumbled to his side, Carlin hardly noticed his former combatant. He saw Tor continue to fight against his new opponents and tried to listen to what he was saying. It was definitely directed towards himself and Jona. In some strange shadowy way it even seemed to make sense but that was ridiculous. Then his concentration was broken by the arrival of Commandant Brenna.

‘Get him upstairs.’

‘We don’t belong here. You must remember. We must escape…’

The struggling man was dragged away but Carlin could still hear his desperate cries. He was also aware that Jona was trying to apologise to Brenna. As Brenna explained that Tor was night sick, Carlin gave the disappearing man one more look.

‘The two of you are friends… The two of you are friends…’

Why did this statement seem so ludicrous and so completely right all at the same time? Carlin shrugged his aching shoulders and turned to look at Jona and Thera as they sat to eat their food. Once again, the thought echoed in his mind but this time he didn’t try to ignore it.

‘The two of you are friends….’

Chapter

‘Jona?’

‘Jack.’

‘Right. We can’t. We have to tell these people what’s happening here.’ Daniel’s head ached. Confusion reigned and the danger that had so recently engulfed his seemingly simple existence was still very apparent but one thought was clear in his mind. He remembered a promise. He remembered swearing to free the victims of Calder’s totalitarian regime. He knew the man supporting himself on Brenna’s desk was called Calder. He knew he had just pulled off a pretty nifty move to deprive the man of his weapon and he briefly felt pride in his prowess. The important thing, however, was that the man cowering before him was a tyrant and a bully and outside Brenna’s office were some pretty clear examples of Calder’s victims. Just as he now knew his name was Daniel Jackson and not Carlin, he knew he had to do something to help the grimy work worn population of Section 23, the place that had been his home for… how long?

We can’t just walk away. Would this man standing next to him agree? He suddenly remembered that it was Jack’s decision to challenge the status quo on P3R 118 that had got them into this fix in the first place. He also had a strong recollection that this was because Jack’s first instinct was to do the right thing even if that meant endangering his team but that right now his immediate imperative would be to get his team home safe before all other considerations. And home was definitely beckoning. Brenna had indicated that the Stargate was very close nearby. Stargate! Again Daniel marvelled at how the memories of another life were flooding back into his mind. It still felt like a life lived by someone else but it was a life full of richness and complexity. Memories, recollections and feelings were filling up the void that had sat at the centre of his recent existence. It was almost overwhelming and he tried to hold onto what was most important here and now.

‘Yep, you’re right!’

As his mind had reeled in reaction to the kaleidoscope of recovered memories, Jack had made a decisive move and, thankfully, agreed to his request. Maybe he too felt that this experience shouldn’t be for nothing. As they moved out onto the Balcony above the communal area of their section, Daniel thought about how the man of action that led SG1 had continued to follow similar instincts as Jona. He even took a moment of amused reflection as he recalled how his own alter ego had railed at Jona’s authoritarian nature. He wondered what Jack was thinking about their scrappy brawl.

‘And then, against all odds, we became friends. Again.’ The thought was so distracting he almost tuned out the confrontation between Jack and Calder, the Administrator desperately trying to implicate SG1 and claim he was an innocent party in the deception Jack was revealing. It was only hearing Kegan questioning Jack’s story that dragged him back into the drama.

‘He’s telling the truth, Kegan.’ He called out to the person who had first befriended him, hoping she would hear the sincerity in his voice.

As Calder tried to fabricate his sudden appearance, Daniel wondered if SG1 could really save the people standing below him. There were so many. How far away was the Stargate? What challenge would Calder or his cronies put up to their escape? Daniel thought about his encounter with the City’s Acolytes and the many other Citizens that had conspired to incarcerate them all in this rancid, desperate environment in the first place.

Jack had obviously had enough and became a man of action again. A shot rang out and the glass of a skylight high above them shivered to the ground proving above all doubt to the workers beneath the surface of The City that there was something else to live for, other than darkness, grinding work and failing systems. His cry was triumphant.

‘No ice, no snow!’

‘You’ve accomplished nothing. These people will never be accepted in the City.’ Calder blustered.

‘That’s why we’re going to offer them a better place.’

Daniel wondered at the simplicity of that idea at the same moment he uttered it. Calder’s continued arrogance was astounding. He truly believed his system of tyranny and fear on one side and segregation on the other was a solid foundation of Government. In fact, the only foundation this place had was a bunch of sewer-like slave camps and a society on the brink of collapse. And yet maybe Calder was right. The Citizens that lived off the labour of the workers had an awful lot to lose. Who knew what they would do to protect their artificial life.

His thoughts turning to the City above, Daniel squinted up at the gleaming towers just visible through the smashed opening – so near and yet so far. As he looked up into the light he felt an instinctive sense of foreboding. The uneasiness was unsettling and he turned instead to look at Kegan and the other workers below. The reaction of their recent work mates to the shining light and lack of ice was very mixed. Some, like Kegan, revelled in the light. Others showed anger and denial. More still cowered away from the piercing beams as if in fear. The logical part of Daniel’s brain recognised this gamut of emotion as very likely considering the shock of having everything you believed in taken away from you with one simple action. Another part of his mind was more confused, however, and he felt a sense of fellowship with the people he could see hiding in the shadows.

‘Of course you’re going to feel confusion, Jackson.’ He gave himself a mental smack. ‘You’ve got the memories of two lives in one brain. You’re trying to save the world (OK someone else’s world) again. You have no idea how long you’ve been working like an animal in these work camps. Everything you ever knew was taken away from you and is now flooding back into your brain like a dam bursting. Oh and, as usual, you seem to have lost your glasses somewhere along the way which means you’ve got a headache from eyestrain and are probably photo sensitive to the sudden bright light.’

Daniel knew he was getting that grumpy feeling again and was mightily relieved when he heard Jack instruct Teal’c to rescue the workers from below, relieving him of the responsibility. For a moment he thought he should go and help him anyway – rescuing refugees was his one of his more frequent responsibilities on SG1 – but then he felt a wave of tiredness and decided that Teal’c could cope perfectly well on his own. The bristle on his face was itching making him wonder when he had last had the chance to shave and he felt as if the grime and stench was ground into his body. He had also already started thinking about the Citizens above. He knew many of them were as oppressed and abused as these workers, if in more advantageous surroundings, and he wondered if he could convince Jack that their plight was equally desirous of the Colonel’s attention. Maybe that was pushing things just a touch too far. He had just remembered that Jack O’Neill’s patience had its limits.

As he helped Brenna guide them to an exit from the underground complex, he noticed Sam and Jack were taking a moment to reassess their relationship. He wondered at their timing but then he decided that he was just being grumpy again. He hoped that the relaxed camaraderie he had witnessed between Thera and Jona could be a starting point for a less awkward and tense intimacy between the Colonel and his 2IC. It would be nice to salvage something from this experience. With a genuine smile on his face for the first time in what seemed like ages, Daniel left the two soldiers talking – calling one another Sir, or so it seemed. It was time to blow this joint and he hoped Brenna was up to the task of showing them the way. She had already shown incredible bravery in flouting her society’s rules and ethics. He trusted she would be able to take them the last steps to freedom and home.

Chapter 2

The pain in her arm was multiplied by the sensations and feelings that were coursing through her whole being. When she had decided to tell the four humans who they really were she had nearly been physically sick. She thought back over her hurried explanation.

‘I thought it was necessary to protect the city but now it has gone too far… Memories will come back more quickly when you get home…I’ve been coming to my senses…’

She just hadn’t realised her senses could be so overwhelming. How long she had existed in a world of such deep numbing denial? Even then it was only when Calder had shot her, coldly and deliberately with the simple intention of killing her, that she had truly understood how depraved and twisted the man had come. Not just the man. Calder represented Civilisation. And Civilisation was an empty promise of salvation built on the blood and pain of thousands of abused, nameless workers.

Brenna turned to look at the man by her side. He was called Dr. Daniel Jackson but she really knew nothing else about him. He held his arm round protectively around her waist as she guided him down the secret access way and, seeming to sense her look, lifted his head. He was still frowning. She remembered he should have been wearing vision enhancing ‘glasses’ but they had been lost. Then he smiled and she nearly cried for the first time. How could someone that had been treated so badly by her world have any feelings of kindness towards her?

‘Are you OK, Brenna?’ His voice was full of concern.

‘Yes, Dr. Jackson. The pain is not so great.’ At least not the pain in her arm, she added to herself. ‘We must hurry. More Acolytes may arrive at any moment.’

‘Why did the Administrator only bring two of those soldiers with him?’ The man beside her almost seemed to be asking himself. She could tell he was someone who thought deeply about the issues around him.

‘Arrogance, I think.’ He nodded at her suggestion. ‘People do not leave the Workers Sections. Not successfully at least. Dr. Jackson?’

‘Daniel, please.’

‘OK, Daniel. How can you ever forgive us, me, for what we did to you?’

‘It’s all right, Brenna. To be honest I’m not too sure of what there is to forgive right now. But I know you have been very brave by doing what you did today.’ He smiled reassuringly again and then pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Could do with some Advil right now though.’

As she wondered at his capacity for forgiveness, Brenna guided them around the last bend and out into the Avenue of Administrative Scripture. Too late she realised her mistake. Other than the success of the Memory Stamp there was another reason that workers rarely made it above the Surface into the City. As Daniel flung his spare arm over his eyes to shield them from the bright white light, Brenna used what strength she had to pull the frozen man back into the dark shadows of the access passage.

When Lise had challenged her about the mind wipe procedure Brenna had not wanted to think about what actually happened in the Relearning Unit. Even when Teal’c had been taken to be re-stamped, she had acknowledged her own cowardice and not tried to watch the procedure, even though Lise had begged her to come and see what the Servitor had already witnessed. As a Commandant she knew certain facts, however. One of these was that the procedure made Stampees extremely sensitive to bright light and more than this she knew that some escaping workers had gone into complete neural shock on encountering dome light for the first time. It was one of the reasons the Underground Sections were kept so dark.

‘I’m sorry, Daniel, I’m sorry,’ she whispered. ‘Help me please. Just help me get you back into the passageway. You will feel much better.'

Her companion seemed to perceive something of what she was saying and soon they were back around the last bend in the relative gloom of the brick clad tunnel. Daniel was leaning against the wall shaking and his arm was still pressed firmly against his eyes.

‘What was that, Brenna? I don’t know what came over me.’ His voice was hardly audible.

‘I don’t know exactly either, Daniel, but if you all have this reaction to the light I am not sure you will be able to walk to the Everlasting Circle. Although it is only at the other end of the Avenue. What are we going to do?’

As she tried to think where she could get a vehicle with shaded windows or some other way to make the short journey, she heard the footsteps of more people coming their way. An answer to the problem had become imperative.

Chapter 3

As Jack came up the last flight of stairs with Sam, they were surprised to encounter Brenna and Daniel crouching by the nearby entrance.

‘I thought you were going to get a head start on the DHD before the cavalry come charging up?’

Jack tried not to snap at Daniel. He looked pale and sweaty as if in a state of shock. He just need to get his team out of here. The thought was becoming a mantra and he tried not to think about the reasons for his team’s unpleasant incarceration. His life as Jona seemed enviably simple right now.

‘I know, Jack, but we seem to have another problem.’

Daniel looked like he had pulled himself together, but he wasn’t happy. Jack also remembered that Carlin had been one irascible guy. He wondered if Daniel had retained any of those qualities and how he was going to handle an even more recalcitrant Doctor Jackson. The subject of his musings was shuffling slowly towards the opening, creasing his eyes into a tiny slit with his hand shading whatever other light might be able to get through.

‘I had a really bad reaction to the day light.’

‘Dome light,’ Brenna corrected him.

‘Right, I guess that makes sense, Dome light. I don’t know how long we’ve been down in those caverns but Brenna was just explaining to me that the majority of workers have a similar reaction. NO, Jack, don’t!’

O’Neill was surprised at the strength with which Daniel had grabbed his arm to prevent him striding out into the street. Jack wondered if his errant Archaeologist should be put to work in a forced labour camp more often. He had obviously developed some serious muscle tone. Although the reflection was amusing, Jack quickly brought himself back to the present. OK, so he was trying to assert his leadership and physical prowess by marching out into the City against Daniel’s advice. He could feel the urgency in Daniel’s voice and the iron grip on his forearm was enough to stop his forward momentum. He glanced back at Carter who gave him an appraising look and then put his hand over Daniel’s gripping fingers.

‘OK, it’s OK. I’ll take it gently, all right?’

He could see that even this concession wasn’t really all right with the young man next to him who looked really furious at his reply. OK so maybe he was a bit condescending but whoa, Daniel! He broke the grip on his arm and moved forward deliberately, frowning at his friend’s extreme reaction. Then his thoughts were interrupted. The light wasn’t particularly bright but it reflected off the many white surfaces that the City’s inhabitants seemed to favour. He knew, rationally, that there was no immediate danger on the street ahead. So why did he feel a welling sense of panic and powerlessness? He inwardly thanked Daniel for his warning and copied his earlier action, closing his eyes to the maximum possible while still possessing some sort of field of vision. He then tried once more to survey the street. This time the irrational reaction wasn’t so strong and he was able to used long ago learnt techniques to concentrate and focus his mind.

As he carefully took in his surroundings, assessing possible points of danger and plotting the best course of action, he began to feel in control once more. He didn’t feel particularly satisfied by the achievement. He was frustrated by his inadequacy in the first place, even with the warning. But at least he now believed the sensation, however initially debilitating, was able to be mastered and that their impending escape was not going to be put back any more than was necessary.

Then, as he turned back with a smile of triumph on his face, his immediate concerns were shelved by a multitude of new events. The least pressing turned out to be the arrival of Teal’c, from the corridor behind, with what looked like only four or five workers. Outside on the street gunfire and shouts of protest could be heard. And most surprising of all, rounding the entrance to their temporary refuge and wearing the distinctive convoluted outfits of Citizens, Jack could have sworn he was seeing Major Griff and Dr. Fraiser.

Chapter 4

Janet Fraiser could not have been more overjoyed at seeing not just one or two but all of SG1 in the passageway. She knew everyone on the base had been trying to ignore the unimaginable – that the SGC’s most renowned and most liked team had finally used up the last of their legendary luck. It was inconceivable that any of them should be dead, particularly on some faceless, useless glacier and double particularly after all the time, effort and emotion she had expended in patching them all up and putting them back together again time after time.

After the initial euphoria of finding her friends alive, however, her second thought was one of shock at the state of the missing team. They were all wearing earth coloured, scruffy, mandarin style uniforms. They looked like they had recently had a number one haircut. Even Teal’c had lost his recent facial hair. Actually Teal’c looked pretty good in comparison to the others who were all covered with a layer of grime and filth and had a drawn, malnourished look. Both Daniel and Jack looked decidedly shaky and Sam had that owlish expression that sometimes appeared in times of great stress.

As she surveyed each member of SG1 individually, making a visual diagnosis as she went, all her mothering instincts took hold. She wanted to get a good meal inside them all, give them a good spread of antibiotics, vitamins and what ever else she could think up, let them all take a very long shower and then put them to bed in the safety of her infirmary for the next 48 hours. The soldier in Dr Fraiser knew there were more pressing needs, however, and, as she and Major Griff moved forward out of the light of the street, she surveyed the rest of the group huddled in the opening. At the same time, she reached out her arm and brought forward the reason for their timely arrival. Thank goodness they had met and confided in Ballin.

Chapter 5

Brenna smiled at her sister. She thought back to the day before. She had been so relieved to get a brief surface pass for the night. She had not expected it after her recent run in with the Administrator and she suspected that Lise had something to do with it. She had quickly made her way to her family Sleep Suite, trying not to think of what Lise might have had to do to give her this respite and looking forward to switching off from the worry of the four new workers in her section.

‘Brenna, I have to tell you about something. I think I did something terrible.’

They were the first words out of Ballin’s mouth. Not even ‘How are you?’ or ‘What are you doing here tonight?’ Feeling she didn’t deserve such a troublesome sister she pulled off her over-wrap and sat down.

‘What have you done this time, Ballin? Protested at the Education Unit again? And no, before you start, get me a drink, would you?’

She had no idea how long this latest story was going to take to retell – Ballin looked like she was building up a good head of steam – and she felt in sore need of some nutrition if she was going to last the distance. Ballin was soon back in the room. As normal the problem started with illegal dissension. When would the girl learn? And then she heard about how her sister betrayed someone else to get herself out of trouble. It didn’t take Brenna long to realise that the man Ballin was describing was Carlin and that her troubles had come right back and smacked her in the face.

They had talked long into the night. Brenna told Ballin of her discussion with Administrator Calder and his plans to cold bloodedly kill the humans. Ballin had been horrified and she could see that her sister now felt even worse about her part in the tragedy. By the time Dome Light was changing from night to day she wasn’t sure which one of them had convinced the other of what they must do. Maybe they had just worked each other up into an irresponsible frenzy but if that was the case she didn’t think she would have felt so relieved.

‘So I am going to tell SG1 who they really are and try to get them up to the Surface. You create a diversion so that we can get them the rest of the way to the Everlasting Ring.’

‘I tell you, Brenna, the way things are going round here, it won’t be difficult to cause some civic strife.’

Ballin was actually smiling. Brenna wasn’t sure there was an awful lot to smile about but she recognised her enthusiasm. It was such a relief to take positive action for a change and to top it all she felt like they were doing the RIGHT thing. It was also a good idea not to think too hard about the consequences of their actions, ‘but then,’ she mused, ‘if they memory stamp us I won’t have anything more to worry about anyway. I guess that’s why the Stamp is so useful and successful…’ Her sister broke into her thoughts.

‘I know it’s best for me to try to do my part during Bright light but have you thought about the humans?’

‘It will have to be all right. We can’t wait any longer…’

And now here they were, together again. By the sounds coming from the Singing Highway and numerous other quarters of the City, it sounded like Ballin had also been successful in her part of the plan. The only question was who were the two people she had picked up along the way and why were they here, now. Part of the answer was obvious by the recognition between SG1 and the strangers but there was more to it than that.

‘Brenna! You made it. Are you OK?’

It hadn’t taken Ballin long to notice the sling around her arm and the obvious strain on her face. Then her sister noticed Dr Jackson. Her head dipped and her skin flushed. Brenna thought she might ignore him but she had to admit her sister had a fair amount of courage.