Xover Changing of the Guard 3: Be All That You Can Be 18/22
Ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Fri, 28 Sep 2001 08:09:46 GMT
If you are recieving a second copy of this, please forgive me,
but I have had reports that it has not gone through for many
people on the list. Apologies, Ecolea.
Chapter 23
The prisoners didn't have far to go once they were released from
their holding cell. Just down the hall to Kabra'kan's sarcophagus
where they were forced to kneel and wait for the god to arise.
Unimpressed, Methos and Cassandra shared a glance. One bemused,
but cautious, the other nervous, but wary. Having done their fair
share of kneeling, both to gods and individuals at one time or
another, they made themselves comfortable and waited patiently
for the sarcophagus to open.
Eventually, when it was deemed they'd been subservient for long
enough, a guard ordered one of the servants forwards. The woman,
one of the Maya descendants from the look of her, scurried to the
sarcophagus and tapped a small panel on the side before rushing
back to her place against the wall. It opened with a scraping
noise as the top slid apart like insect wings. Then, looking ever
so pleased with himself, Kabra'kan sat up and climbed out of the
interior, ignoring Methos and Cassandra but for a negligible wave
of a hand to a guard and quiet command.
"Bring them," Methos heard and they got to their feet.
The laboratory was just beyond the central living area and Methos
had his first good look at the place, noting with little surprise
that their packs had been opened and the contents laid out on one
of the tables. The only weapon visible though was his sword. No
doubt Kabra'kan thought it a quaint affectation.
The Goa'uld went to a cabinet and removed a pair of hand devices
which looked suspiciously like high tech jewelry, but according
to O'Neill and the others were weapons which packed quite a
wallop.
"Do you have a name?" Kabra'kan asked, returning to stand before
Methos.
Don't sweat the small stuff, he reminded himself silently.
"Pierson. Captain Adam Pierson."
"That is a Tau'ri name," Kabra'kan said quietly. "You are not of
the Tau'ri."
The Goa'uld swiped a hand through the air painting a glowing line
of agony across Methos' chest. He shouted and fell to his knees
gasping for breath as he clutched himself. At a word from
Kabra'kan the guards pulled his arms back and bared his torso
allowing the Goa'uld to view the healing process.
"Interesting," the Goa'uld commented when the burn slash was
gone. "How do you do heal so quickly?"
"You mean without tricks?"
Kabra'kan nodded to the guard behind Methos and before he could
even guess at what might happen his entire body was suffused with
pain -- unending and unchanging in its intensity, ceasing only
when the Goa'uld decreed release. Methos would have collapsed had
the guards not righted him.
Suddenly, a Jaffa was lifting his chin with tip of a long, thin
cylindrical object and Methos recognized it from Daniel's
descriptions. A pain stick. Sort of a human cattle prod only far
more excruciating in effect. Still, nasty as it was, it was about
as terrifying as being hit in the back of the head with a hammer.
No finesse, Methos thought sourly as he tried to catch his
breath. Bloody amateurs.
"Now tell me," Kabra'kan smiled venomously. "How do you heal so
quickly?"
Methos didn't need to hear the threat implicit in Kabra'kan's
tone to understand the penalty. And since he'd planned on
answering eventually he might just as well get on with it.
"I was born with the ability," he said, trying his best to look
defeated.
"How lucky for you," Kabra'kan grinned. "And are there others
like you?" the Goa'uld asked. Wondering, Methos supposed just how
many of his fellows he might offer such a gift in exchange for
their allegiance.
Methos lowered his eyes. "No," he whispered.
The pain stick was applied again and the question repeated.
"Tell me the truth!" Kabra'kan demanded.
"It is the truth!" Methos growled, not bothering to hide his
agony. "There are no others like me!"
The pain stick was threatened and he flinched away, but Kabra'kan
held up a hand to stop it.
"It does not matter," the Goa'uld sneered. "I will know it all
soon enough."
Methos let his eyes go wide and increased his breathing slightly
as Kabra'kan grabbed his chin, turning Methos' face from side to
side as if examining the merchandise. He caught Cassandra staring
in horrified fascination and winked at her. If she was the least
bit startled he didn't see it, too preoccupied with flinching
visibly while Kabra'kan's hands roamed possessively through his
hair and down his shoulders as the guards pulled him up and held
him for inspection.
"This will make an excellent host body," Kabra'kan murmured
appreciatively.
"No! Please! No!" Cassandra suddenly shouted. "Adam! Please! You
must fight them!"
He struggled a little as she went on ranting, though Methos
thought the whole, "What will I do without you?" bit was way over
the top. Still, no one seemed to notice and it made Kabra'kan's
eyes gleam avariciously. Perhaps thinking the body itself could
be used to make Cassandra a willing tool.
Dream on, pal, Methos thought faintly amused. Then a guard cuffed
him and he fell to his knees again while another yanked his head
down and forward. He heard a noise from behind as if something
large and nasty were being regurgitated and steeled himself for
the attack.
"Oh, no you don't!" Jack's voice called from the door and weapons
fire erupted across the room.
As the Jaffa released him to defend their god, the Goa'uld
activated his personal shield while Methos got his feet under him
and made for his sword. Cassandra got there first and tossed it
to him, taking a blast of staff fire for her trouble. She went
down and Methos went for the Jaffa, moving into his fighting
space so quickly the man had no idea what was happening until he
looked down to find himself impaled on Methos' sword.
He turned to find Kabra'kan as the last rounds of gunfire died,
but the Goa'uld was gone. "Damn it, Jack! I almost had him!"
Methos complained. He stomped over to Cassandra, who was
struggling to sit up. "You couldn't wait two minutes?"
O'Neill glowered at him. "You mean he almost had you!"
"Yeah," Methos nodded. "In another minute he was toast."
Jack looked disgusted. "Do you know what it feels like to have
one of those things slithering into you? Well, I do. Trust me,
Pierson, it's not a memory you want."
"Well, it was my choice," Methos retorted as he helped a very
shaken Cassandra to her feet. "Next time, trust me to have a
little more common sense than you give me credit for."
"Why you ungrateful bastard!" O'Neill glared, turning toward the
door as the Immortals followed. "I ought to--"
The burst of staff fire seemed to come out of nowhere. It struck
Jack square in the chest and knocked him several feet back.
"No!" Methos shouted, shoving Cassandra down as he hurriedly
scanned the room for the culprit. But the guards were dead and he
turned his eyes towards Kabra'kan's living quarters. Fury filled
him as he spotted a boy, no more than a teenager, grinning wildly
as he pointed a fallen staff weapon in Methos' direction. What
the boy saw Methos didn't want to imagine. Shades of the Horseman
he later supposed, stalking coldly toward him. The boy's shot
went nearly as wide as his eyes, but Methos' aim was true. He
slipped the tip of his blade in just below the sternum and shoved
upward, his face expressionless as he watched the boy die.
The rest of the servants started screaming and running, but
Methos paid them scant attention. All he could think of was
helping Jack. He turned back to see Cassandra kneeling over the
colonel's prostrate form, shaking her head when he looked at her.
"He's gone."
"No!"
"I'm sorry, Methos."
"No!" he growled. "I will not have it!"
"Methos," Cassandra said gently, reaching out a hand to comfort.
He brushed it away as he knelt beside the body, lifting it by the
arms.
"Methos! What are you doing?!"
"Either help me, woman, or keep out of my way!" he snarled,
hefting the corpse over his shoulder. She stared at him, clearly
appalled. No doubt thinking he was engaged in some form of
abomination, but Methos didn't care. He turned and headed for
Kabra'kan's sleeping chamber and went to the sarcophagus.
"Are you sure this is wise?" Cassandra said from behind when
Methos tapped the control panel as he'd seen the servant do. "I
was told these things are dangerous to mortals. They cause
madness and--"
"Only with long term use," Methos said tightly. "Just once isn't
enough."
The sarcophagus opened and Methos laid the body inside.
"Would Colonel O'Neill want this?" Cassandra asked gently, moving
to block him.
"I want this," Methos turned, glowering at her. "That's all that
matters. Now get out of my way, Cassandra."
She nodded once and made to move but a gasp from the sarcophagus
startled her.
"What the hell?" they heard O'Neill croak. "Jesus!" He sat up,
running shaky hands over his chest and the Immortals drew back,
shocked into silence. The move caught Jack's attention and he
glared at them. "Who the hell had the bright idea to put me into
this thing?!" he demanded.
"I..." Methos started, then slowly shook his head. He looked to
Cassandra, who was staring in openmouthed wonder. It was the same
for her, Methos realized. O'Neill hadn't been pre-Immortal and
neither of them could feel a buzz!
"I shoulda known you'd pull something like this, Pierson," the
colonel frowned. "You know my standing orders. You never, ever
put me into one of these godforsaken things!"
"I..." Methos swallowed hard. "I'm sorry," he whispered, not
knowing what else to say. "I just... I couldn't let you die,
Jack."
O'Neill's expression softened. "Oh, all right," he heaved a
disgusted sigh. "I'll let it slide. But just this once, you hear
me?"
Methos nodded, wondering how the hell he was going to tell Jack
that he appeared to be Immortal -- but wasn't.
"Thank you," O'Neill said sarcastically. "Now, be a good minion
and help me out of this contraption."
Methos somehow found the wit to smile and saluted his Commanding
Officer. "Sir, yes, sir, O Great Satan, sir."
Jack grimaced disgustedly. "God damn it, Pierson!" he complained
as Methos offered his arm. "How many times do I have to say it?
You don't ever salute indoors!"