XOVER: Changing of the Guard 5: Terms of Engagement 8/19 [PG13]
Ecolea (ecolea@wt.net)
Thu, 20 Jun 2002 00:33:48 -0500
Chapter 13
With mutual sighs of relief the two men breathed deeply of the recycled =
air in the corridor. After 18 hours in the hot, fetid, and now putrid =
smelling confines of their makeshift bomb factory, the stale air of the =
ship seemed positively wholesome.
"Ready?" O'Neill asked softly as he scanned the area.
"Ready or not, does it matter?" Methos quirked a smile in his direction.
"No," Jack responded, leading the way to the vent that led to the air =
ducts. "But... Y' know, we still have a little time to make those =
'chutes. That is, if you'd really prefer to jump."
Methos snarled silently behind O'Neill's back. "What I'd prefer is to =
wait until most of the crew has left the ship, eliminate the guards and =
take my chances that way."
O'Neill snickered softly and Methos sighed quietly in frustration. =
They'd been arguing over that plan since Methos had gotten his first =
whiff of Jack's...explosives. But in the end they both knew it was just =
too dangerous. If the Gallisians didn't know they had intruders aboard =
now, they'd certainly know it by then. And if escaping into unfamiliar =
territory wasn't difficult enough, it'd be a hell of a lot worse doing =
it on a militarily secure, Goa'uld controlled base.
Still, Methos was just disgusted enough to bait Jack. He knew it was =
childish, not to mention foolish, considering he had nearly 5,000 =
pushups to complete. But, with no other way to express his irritation =
over their dire circumstances his sharp tongue had finally won out.
O'Neill's veritable silence in response to his sniping soon became =
worrisome. And as they shimmied their way through the ventilation system =
Methos tried not to think about what that might mean. Besides, there =
were so many things that could go wrong it didn't bear considering.
Finally, they reached the panel that led down into the pod cradle. This =
time, prying it loose was easy. And though the fit was tight, they =
lowered themselves down with a few creative twists and turns.
"What's our ETA?" Jack asked quietly as he removed a series of miniature =
bombs from his over-stuffed pack.
Methos checked his watch. "We should reach the outer atmosphere in =
approximately six minutes."
That was cutting it close, but as he watched Jack work swiftly and =
silently, Methos realized O'Neill was an expert. The thought made him =
wonder about some of those black ops missions the colonel occasionally =
referred to, but it wasn't something about which he'd ever ask -- some =
things were better left to the imagination.
"Into the pod," Jack ordered as he finished placing the last charge and =
set the timer using what was left of his watch. Methos hurriedly climbed =
inside as Jack jumped in after.
Small as it was, the pod seemed to be well constructed, with a modest =
control panel offering them at least rudimentary control. It wasn't =
much, but it might make all the difference to their survival if they =
could touch down gently rather than violently crashing. This business of =
distracting O'Neill from discovering his immortality every time he died =
was getting to be a real pain, Methos decided.
"Give me a count down," O'Neill ordered as they strapped themselves in.
Methos glanced at his wrist. "Thirty seconds... Twenty... Ten, nine, =
eight..."
At the count of one the timer did its job and Jack hit the explosive =
release for the pod drop -- hopefully directing the power of the bombs =
he'd created outward. Methos held tight to his chair as the world around =
him thundered and rocked. Then suddenly, they were falling.
Chapter 14
"This is getting us nowhere," Carter complained to her companions as =
they stood outside the Lakwasian Ministry of Justice.
Narim shook his head sorrowfully. "There is no more that can be done =
that is not being done, Samantha."
She gave the Tolan a tired smile. "I know, but I still think we're being =
stonewalled."
Teal'c frowned even more deeply than usual. "I have seen no walls made =
of stone in this place."
"She means we're being obstructed, delayed, impeded, and hampered in our =
investigation," Daniel explained.
"Indeed," Teal'c nodded. "I also feel the Lakwasians are pulling their =
legs."
Samantha bowed her head to hide a smile as Daniel gently corrected the =
Jaffa.
"I think you mean, dragging their feet," he explained. "The other =
means..." He trailed off uncomfortably as Carter's eyes went wide. "I'll =
explain later," he muttered, flushing as he finally caught the =
inadvertent double entendre of Teal'c's phrasing.
"I understand, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c solemnly intoned. "As I believe =
Colonel O'Neill would say were he here, they are indeed jerking us off."
"That too," Daniel choked, rubbing his eyes in desperation as Samantha =
grinned and Narim looked mystified.
"Never mind," she told the Tolan. "The problem remains the same. The =
Lakwasians insist they are doing everything to find Colonel O'Neill and =
Captain Pierson. And maybe they are, but Thor and Lya..."
"Yes," Narim agreed. "Their responses to your questioning were somewhat =
evasive."
"They know more than they're telling," Daniel frowned. "I don't think =
Jack and Adam are anywhere on Lakwasa."
"That is my feeling also," Teal'c added.
"I'm beginning to think you may be right," Narim sighed. "Still, if they =
are not on Lakwasa, where would they have gone?"
"Well, they wouldn't have left willingly," Daniel insisted.
"Certainly not unless the colonel felt there was some compelling =
reason," Carter added.
"Only the presence of the Goa'uld could compel Colonel O'Neill to such a =
degree that he would violate his orders," Teal'c pronounced =
emphatically.
"That is impossible!" Narim exclaimed. "The Asgard would surely know if =
a Goa'uld or Jaffa had infiltrated the conference."
Daniel cocked his head as his eyes went wide. "Maybe that's what they're =
hiding..."
Chapter 15
"Nice landing," Methos complained between bouts of vomiting.
O'Neill merely shrugged. "You wanted soft, I gave you soft."
"In a bloody chemical waste pond!" Methos groaned, suddenly bowed with =
pain as his stomach once again twisted into knots.
"Like I could tell that nice shimmer by moonlight was a chemical effect! =
I told you to swim for it," Jack reminded him unsympathetically. "But =
noooo, you had to play Immortal. You'd rather walk a mile under water =
and inhale that crap than put in a little extra effort."
"Sometimes I really hate you," Methos whispered as the pain finally =
began to recede.
"Now that hurts," O'Neill responded. "Must be the chemicals talking," he =
added mercilessly.
Methos said nothing, coughing up what he hoped was the last of the =
toxins. He shivered as a cold night breeze suddenly touched his skin and =
he began to itch -- scratching first just a little, here and there, then =
uncontrollably over his entire body. He looked to Jack in horror as the =
other man, though obviously less effected began doing the same thing.
"This is an industrial park, right?" O'Neill said hurriedly, grabbing =
Methos by his collar and pulling him to his feet.
"Yeah," Methos nodded anxiously, rubbing his arms in a vain effort to =
quell the burning of his skin. "Looks it."
"Then they gotta have some kinda decontamination unit."
"Have to be," Methos agreed as Jack grabbed up the packs and pulled him =
along.
"Then lets find it -- and quickly!"
They followed a broken concrete walk toward a cluster of darkened =
buildings, passing warning signs proclaiming hazardous chemicals and =
dangerous toxins along the way. Minutes later they entered what must =
have once been a very pretty plaza, but the fountain was empty except =
for a few inches of muddy, leaf and trash filled rain water. They =
bypassed it in favor of what appeared to be an abandoned factory =
building, where O'Neill suggested they might find showers. It seemed =
logical to Methos so they headed inside, desperately searching for =
anything resembling a bathing area.
They found it easily enough, though nothing was ever that simple. Only =
one of the many showerheads was still working and the rusty water was =
slow in coming.
"To hell with this," O'Neill muttered as he found a piece of rusty =
piping overhead and with a hard yank at the joint, tore it away.
Water suddenly cascaded down and they gratefully stepped under the =
downpour, stripping off their clothes as the itching finally began to =
subside.
"Soap's in the pack," O'Neill told Methos, who nodded and went to =
retrieve the bars. Of course, the chemical reaction would have =
eventually worn off -- even without a thorough cleansing. But, as Jack =
had taught him, there was no need for an Immortal, or for that matter an =
Ancient to needlessly suffer.
They scrubbed themselves clean for nearly an hour, not caring that the =
water was merely tepid, or that it might eventually flood the place.
Finally, O'Neill wandered off, returning a short while later with a =
couple of musty blankets in which to wrap up. They left the shower room =
and their polluted garments behind as they searched for a good place to =
hunker down for the night.
"This'll do," O'Neill said, tossing his pack down.
Methos looked around at what appeared to be a management office. The =
large bay window overlooking the factory floor was filthy and cracked, =
but there were three exits and the remains of some shabby carpeting. He =
joined O'Neill at a narrow window on the far side of the room =
overlooking the plaza.
"Looks like this whole place is dead," the colonel commented.
Methos nodded. "Worse, it smells like parts of New Jersey. Guess the =
Gallisians never went through our conservation and reclamation stage. I =
sincerely hope the rest of the planet isn't like this. This place is a =
toxic waste nightmare!"
"Maybe they were busy," O'Neill commented blandly, "funding other more =
important projects."
Methos said nothing as Jack moved away to gather up his pack and open =
it. The Immortal turned with a look of surprise as the colonel pulled =
out a couple of colored shirts and two pairs of nondescript trousers.
"I swiped us some civvies from the crew quarters," O'Neill explained. =
"Wasn't sure about your shoe size, so..." he tossed Methos a pair of =
dark plastic boots with a soft silky lining, "I hope these fit."
Methos caught them, a sudden smile creasing his face. "Not to worry," he =
said, going to retrieve his own pack. "I slipped out during one of your =
midnight forays and did the same."
Methos' choices were no less subdued than Jack's were -- though he'd =
done his stealing out of the officers' quarters. Choosing items shoved =
to the back of the closet, either because they were out of fashion or =
unneeded. Strangely, they were of a slightly different texture and style =
than those O'Neill had taken. And after they'd both had a chance to look =
everything over, they mixed and matched until each of them was =
reasonably comfortable and satisfied.
"Are we in or out of fashion, I wonder?" Methos asked with amusement =
when they were both fully dressed.
"We'll find out," Jack shot back tiredly. "Anyway, we can always say =
we're artists or something."
Methos paused, liking the idea. "Yeah, artists are always in fashion -- =
even when they're out. Musicians, too. You don't sing by any chance, do =
you?"
O'Neill stared at the Immortal as if he'd lost his mind. "What do you =
think?"
"No, you certainly don't," Methos agreed, recalling their hideous =
rendition of the Hymn to Ninkasi. Of course, he could excuse his =
forgetfulness there. At the time he'd been far too drunk to care. "Maybe =
you play an instrument?" he asked hopefully.
"Spoons."
"What?"
"I play the spoons," O'Neill repeated lying back against his pack. "You =
know, you eat soup and cereal with 'em."
"I know what spoons are," Methos rolled his eyes. "I'm just wondering =
where you might have picked up such a...specialized... musical talent."
"Ever been on a training exercise that left you stuck in a half-flooded =
fox hole for six days with two guys from Kentucky?"
"Never had the pleasure," Methos smiled painfully as he took a seat on =
the floor, crossing his legs casually.
"It was that or take pot shots at the rats trapped in there with us -- =
and we kinda liked the rats," O'Neill said, reminiscing. "At least they =
were entertaining."
"Yeah," Methos sighed with empathy. "Rats can be a lot of fun once you =
get to know them. Unless, of course, you're starving," he amended. "Then =
it's best not to get too attached to your little buddies." O'Neill =
merely grunted in agreement.
"So," Methos went on. "Do we have an actual plan or are we just going to =
wing it?"
"A plan, a plan," Jack muttered, rubbing his forehead. "Aren't you =
always the man with the plan?"
"Yup," Methos smiled wryly. "That's me. Except... Well, I just thought =
I'd ask before making any decisions."
"A wise idea, my minion," O'Neill responded with mock sagacity. "It is =
always best to consult one's commanding officer before beginning the =
sacred task of planning."
"So, you do have a plan," Methos grinned.
O'Neill nodded briefly. "We approach this as a black ops mission."
"Which means?"
"First and last, we always blend in."
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