XOVER: Changing of the Guard 4: The Road To Hammelcar [PG13] 7/19
ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Mon, 24 Dec 2001 08:53:12 -0600
Notes and disclaimers in part 0/19
Chapter 7
"We can leave now," O'Neill insisted as he sat up. "I don't need to be the
picture of health to make it to the gate." Two days later O'Neill was awake
and talking -- though he tired easily and was still too gaunt for Methos
liking. "And don't you worry," he added with a wry smile. "Doc Fraser will
make sure I eat as soon as we get back."
"I'm sure she will," Methos told him. "But we can't leave just yet."
O'Neill frowned. "There a problem with the gate?"
"No. No problem with the gate," Methos sighed as he sprawled, well out of
reach on the bed across from Jack's. "There just isn't one with which to
have a problem."
"There's no Stargate?" Jack looked horrified. "You mean we're stuck here?!
Oh, that's just beautiful, Pierson!"
Methos rolled his eyes. "We are not stuck here. If you'd just listen for a
minute! No, there isn't a gate on this rock. This is a combat platform and,
as near as I can tell, a listening post from when the Goa'uld used to
control this sector before Inanna got her claws into it. So no, Tok'ra
didn't install a Stargate. That would kind of kill the whole secret base
thing, now wouldn't it?"
"I'm not getting into that fighter again," Jack insisted quietly.
Methos shook his head and sighed. "You won't have to and I'd never ask it.
I'm truly sorry about that, Jack. I wish... I didn't think," he apologized.
"I should have found another way. I didn't realize that would happen."
"You couldn't have," O'Neill told him. "I thought about that a lot the first
couple of days. And unless I wanted to keep strangling you over and over
again--which really seems like a good idea now," he growled. "I don't think
we had any choice."
Methos smiled ruefully. "It's not as bad as it sounds," he told the colonel,
silently acknowledging that apologies had been offered and gratefully, if
obliquely, accepted. "It may not have a traditional Stargate, but this is
one of those places I mentioned where they stored parts for the jump ships."
O'Neill's face brightened at the mention. "I'm pretty sure I saw a couple
down in the hanger bay when I was bringing you up. I don't know what
condition they're in, but if they were left here they're probably in need of
repair."
"Okay," Jack nodded. "That's good. That's a plan. We've got the parts,
right?"
"Absolutely. Only one tiny problem," Methos added nervously.
"Which is?"
"I've never actually repaired one," he admitted cautiously.
O'Neill smirked. "Have you ever worked on your car?" he asked in the same
tone he often used with Daniel.
Methos curled a lip in disgust. "Of course I've fixed my car. I'm not a
complete moron!"
Jack looked at him thoughtfully. "What make and model?"
"It was a Ford." Methos crossed his arms belligerently. "And the model was
T."
O'Neill stared at him in total disbelief for a long moment, then laughed
until tears ran from his eyes and he coughed so hard Methos was afraid he'd
choke.
"God, I missed that," Jack finally gasped. "What happened? The hand crank
fall off?"
"Happy to be of service," Methos grumbled sullenly. "And no," he sneered. "I
popped a wheelie on a loose cobble stone taking a corner too fast and bent
the tire rim. Had a hell of a time pounding it out."
"Don't sweat it, my little speed demon," O'Neill offered expansively as soon
as he stopped laughing again. "You work that listening post and keep an eye
out for Quinta. I'll handle the backbreaking labor."
"Sir, yes, sir. Colonel Satan, sir," Methos saluted.
"And don't you forget it," Jack nodded, yawning widely. "You're my minion
and nobody else's. Not even your twisted sister's."
Methos smiled with intense satisfaction as O'Neill drifted back to sleep.
Now that was the O'Neill he remembered. So what if he thought Methos was a
hopeless geek when it came to automotive expertise. It made Jack feel like
he had a purpose again -- and that was the important thing.
***
The gentle touch of fingertips lightly laid against his sternum wasn't what
awakened Methos. That was just the little game they played. He pretended to
sleep while Jack obtained the reassurance he needed. They both knew, but
neither would ever say a thing.
Nor had it been the sound of O'Neill quietly leaving his bed and padding
into the bathing room. When he wanted to, the man could move as soundlessly
as a cat. Even Methos was hard put not to comment on the excellence of his
stealth. But O'Neill had not been attempting stealth tonight, because they
both knew that Methos had been awake long before that.
"Another nightmare?" Methos asked softly as Jack returned.
That was what had awakened him. The pitiful moans and half-strangled scream
that had driven O'Neill from his sweat soaked bed.
"It'll pass," the colonel replied in a tone that ended the discussion.
Still, it told Methos enough. The dreams were no better, even if they
weren't getting any worse.
"Good," Methos responded. "Then you won't mind if we move upstairs this
morning. The beds look a damn sight more comfortable in the officers
quarters than they are in here."
"More comfortable?" Jack asked eagerly. "Hell, Pierson, you can move in the
morning," he said, tightening the belt on his robe. "I'm heading up now."
Methos suppressed a smile as he grabbed his own robe and followed him out.
"They got any real clothes up there?" O'Neill asked, panting a little as
they reached the elevator. Before Methos could respond, a gentle series of
tones sounded throughout the corridor and probably the entire station.
"What's that?" he asked worriedly as the lift doors opened.
"No idea," Methos admitted with a shake of his head.
"Unidentified craft approaching. Unidentified craft approaching," the voice
of the computer warned in several different languages.
"The operations center," O'Neill said tersely and Methos nodded as they got
on the elevator. "Any weapons aboard?" he asked as they arrived and Methos
helped him over to the command chair.
"Probably," the Immortal nodded. "But maybe we should have a look at what's
out there first," he added, taking a seat at one of several banks of control
panels. "We're pretty well camouflaged in here. No need to kick up a fuss if
they're only passing through, right?"
"We'll see," was all O'Neill would say as Methos switched on the view
screen.
"Damn!" Methos cursed softly as he finally identified the craft. "That's one
of Quinta's ships. Running a search pattern would be my guess."
"So, they don't know we're in here," O'Neill commented thoughtfully.
"I doubt she even knows about the platforms," Methos responded with a shake
of his head. "Quinta was a line officer and didn't have much to do with
security per se. And it wasn't the sort of information Inanna would have
given her after Tok'ra was dead. As paranoid as she probably became, she'd
never want even a loyal follower to have that kind of advantage."
"So what's that ship doing out there?"
Methos shrugged. "Well, if I were Quinta, I'd have followed my first plan --
which would have been to search the immediate area after our escape. She
probably does know about the combat gates in this sector -- no way to really
hide something like that," he sighed. "Some of them could easily handle a
ship ten times the size of her flagship. And they'd be useful for local
commuting between systems, especially after Inanna stripped the other
stargates from their planets."
"Makes sense," O'Neill nodded. "Go on."
"Knowing about the gate herself, Quinta might have figured we'd head there."
"We're three days away from the gate," O'Neill reminded him unnecessarily.
"So why look here?"
"Just Quinta being her usual charming methodical self," Methos grinned.
"Perhaps Inanna had some sort of warning system on the gates to let her know
when they were being used without authorization," Methos suggested as the
ship on the screen continued its wide, slow circle of the area. "It could
mean that Quinta knows we haven't left the sector. She also knows there's
only two of us. And she's not stupid, Jack, merely arrogant. She knows just
how much extra oxygen those fighters carry."
"She's estimated our distance and flight time," he nodded slowly. "Probably
has people checking the nearest habitable planets too."
"I'd say you're partly right," Methos agreed quietly. "But she's estimating
my location, not ours." O'Neill's eyes narrowed questioningly and Methos
sighed. "She'll expect me to have killed you and not the other way around,"
he said bluntly. "Neither she, or Inanna, would ever have put themselves in
that vulnerable a position."
Jack nodded slowly, fully understanding the trust that had been placed in
him. "It looks like they're leaving," O'Neill jutted his chin toward the
screen. "And good riddance."
Methos smiled wanly. "They'll be back. Quinta's like a pit bull when she
wants something. Never lets it out of her teeth."
"But she doesn't know about the platforms," O'Neill stated succinctly.
"She'd have been here already," Methos agreed.
"Unless..." Jack murmured thoughtfully. "She could have stumbled across
something that gave her a reason to think we might be hiding out somewhere
safe and cozy."
"I hope not," Methos said worriedly. "But if she did, she would never have
been able to make use of the information."
"How's that?" O'Neill asked as Methos did another quick scan of the area,
turning off the viewer when he found nothing.
"Well, from what I can recall, at least in general the platforms themselves
aren't very sophisticated," Methos explained as he helped Jack back to the
elevator. "Essentially, they're very big boxes drifting in space. Derelict
barges that from the outside look barely spaceworthy, let alone like they
could hold anything worth salvaging. But they've got very sophisticated
security. Attach an unidentified craft to the hull and all the equipment
inside fries itself automatically. Send the wrong signal to the sensors and
it does the same. By the time anyone got aboard they'd have found only a
useless shell. Maybe they'd get something for the salvage, but they really
aren't worth towing. I mean, they really are just big ugly barges."
"I like the way Tok'ra thinks -- or thought. No. Thinks," he amended a
little confused because the being that had been the Ancient Tok'ra still
existed, even if he was just a big bundle of energy.
"Anyway," Methos grinned as he pressed the glyph to take them down to the
officers quarters. "Like I said, if she knew about the platforms..."
Jack shook his head, interrupting his friend. "She doesn't have to be
Sherlock Holmes to figure it out, Pierson."
"Figure what out?"
"That if we're not anywhere she expects us to be, then we are somewhere we
wouldn't expect her to think we'd be."
Methos felt the color drain from his face, but they did have to consider
every possibility. If Quinta realized he knew how to access the platforms,
she might imagine he had lots of other useful information that could be just
as interesting.
"Wonderful," the Immortal muttered as the doors opened on their new digs.
"Now I have to worry about how long she'll torture me before she kills me.
Thanks, Jack! You're a good buddy."