STARGATE: EXPLORER

by Lady Grey
Alpha/Beta by Jude

February 18

Gaia's Infirmary

"But Carolyn--"

"That's Doctor Lam," she snapped, whirling on Daniel as he tagged along right behind her, "and I'm not clearing you for duty until I know what the hell is wrong with you!" She flung her hands in the air, then clenched her fists down at her sides in frustration.

Daniel backed up a step in the face of her pique. "But you just said you couldn't find anything wrong with me," he argued tentatively, his brow wrinkled as he tried to circumvent her logic -- or lack thereof. "I have stuff to do.”  He knew he was whining and simply didn’t care. “I need to get back to it."

She jammed her hands onto her hips, frowning at him. "I don't care how long it takes. You're not leaving this infirmary until I know why you can perform telekinesis and discharge lightning from your hands. You're perfectly healthy, but there's got to be an explanation for this, and I'm going to find it! Besides, I'm under orders here. General O'Neill will personally crucify both me and Colonel MacFarland if I let you off this ship before this issue’s been resolved."

He held up both hands, as if to ward her off. "You don't have to let me off the ship to let me go back to work," he suggested. "I can get things done in my office, and that crystal's still in the lab, waiting to be cracked -- so to speak. I'm perfectly normal, Carolyn.”

“Daniel.”

"You said so yourself, and besides, I drink a lot of that taimin tea and--"

"Daniel."

"You know what it can--"

"Daniel!" she shouted. "Not. Now." She pivoted on her heel, intending to leave him behind in the ward, but he followed her right out of the infirmary, so she rounded on him again, stopping in the corridor. She shot him a furious, impatient glower. "Don't make me call Security."

"But--"

"And stop whining!" She glared at him, hands clenched in the pockets of her lab coat.

He gave her his best pout, trying his hardest to look absolutely pitiful. It was the expression his mother could never resist, always used as a last resort because he hated subterfuge, but he was bored to death. He wanted out of the infirmary.

"All right!” She sighed, holding her hands palm-outward in the universal sign for surrender. “It’s against my better judgment, but you can go back to work.” She glared at him, forcing him to keep eye contact with her as she pointed at him with her index finger. “But you start every single day in the infirmary, and I test you until we have answers. Plus, you don't set one toe off this ship until you're fully cleared. Understood?"

Both fists pumped the air as he filled with glee, grinning hugely. "Yes! Thankyouthankyouthankyou!" He peeled off, walking briskly toward the science labs.

Doctor Lam rolled her eyes and huffed as she continued on her way.

The crystal pyramid was sitting right where he'd left it the week before. Beside it, the crescent-shaped docent machine lay in pieces. That had been found to be a supreme disappointment, since it would only work in proximity to the museum. It didn't actually store any information, but rather served as a conduit to what had been recorded in the facility, now left far behind. The Furlings were in the process of copying the technology, intending to rebuild it and send the original back to the team of scientists and priests now stationed on that planet, studying their past and burying their dead.

No one else was in sight in the lab, and the latest reports indicated that the pyramid's secrets were still safely hidden within its gleaming planes. Rose had been working with the Furlings, carefully testing the crystal while Daniel had been stuck in the infirmary. She had reported that she’d gotten nowhere; the artifact kept its silence, filled with mystery. Daniel wanted to make it talk; make it sing its secrets.

That thought struck a chord inside him, and he chuckled at the irony. "Of course!" He smacked his forehead with the heel of his hand. "I should've thought of this ages ago. It's so basic! Crystals resonate with sound. Duh!"

He located a musical scale in the ship's computers and played selected notes in a range, watching the artifact for a response. It was hours later, when he finally got the harmonics right; the internal security mechanism unlocked, and an image appeared.  As the computer perfectly held the notes, keeping the display steadily glowing, a spiral of light twirled silently inside the triangular planes of the crystal.

Daniel didn’t yet know what it all meant, but he was inordinately pleased, warm all over from the joy of discovery as he touched the comm link curled around his left ear. "Rose, I had an idea about the pyramid and managed to find the key. Grab Scout and Doctor Lam, and meet me in the lab."

"Well, I'll be damned." Rose shook her head as she gazed down at the countertop minutes later. "You did it, Dan'l."

He eyed the image proudly. "Now, we just need to identify what that hologram is, to start unraveling this puzzle."

“Well, I’m pretty sure I can help you out there.” Doctor Lam stared at the image turning in the heart of the crystal. "I... I've seen it a lot over the past few months, and I know exactly what it is." She turned wide eyes on Daniel.

A little thrill of excitement shot through him. "Really? What?"

Carolyn's gaze shifted to Scout's face, then back to the pyramid. "It's the virus that killed the Ancients." She looked distinctly uncomfortable and crossed her arms over her chest.

"I've been studying the illness that hit Alpha back in December, and I discovered something interesting. The scientists at the installation in Antarctica – remember, where that frozen Ancient woman, Aiyana, was found? They captured the DNA from that organism. The SGC also obtained samples of the virus that the Ori sent to Earth. We determined both had similarities, and might have been a mutation of the same virus."

She tucked her hands into the pockets of her lab coat. "That's the same organism. I'm sure of it."

Daniel's eyes moved from her anxious face to the image, making an unwanted connection. The crystal pyramid had been found in a Furling museum, and now it seemed it held an image of the virus that had destroyed the Ancients. It didn't take a genius to connect the dots, and the picture it revealed wasn't one he wanted to believe.

He turned to Scout. "Maybe your ancestors were looking for a cure, trying to help the Ancients. Just because they knew the structure of the virus doesn't mean anything."

The elder managed a tiny smile. "Perhaps." He shrugged, and his gaze slid away to the pyramid on the counter, glowing with light. "Or perhaps it’s the reason they killed us, as Doctor Lam seems so politely trying not to say." Scout gave her a slight bow with a regretful smile. "Either way, I suspect there's much more to this mystery than we know yet.

“We'll continue looking, and hopefully, when we've found enough pieces of the puzzle, we'll discover the whole truth. Like you, Daniel, I'm not willing to leap to conclusions, neither to exonerate nor indicate culpability. Not from one small piece of information."

Without waiting for a reaction from anyone, he left the lab with his hands clasped behind his back, head high.

The three humans just stared at the artifact, each of them equally filled with hope and dread.

February 20

Four Winds Palace, on the planet Clio

Zeus never bathed with servants present. He couldn’t tolerate having their unworthy hands anywhere near him, and preferred to wash himself. Once that was completed, he lay in the small pool that was his heated bath, head resting on a silken pillow embroidered with gold thread, leaning against the sloped marble side of the pool. The water was soothing, relaxing his tense muscles, and he drowsed a little, breathing in the scent of perfumed air.

At the far end of the marble enclosure, a serpentine dragon lifted its marble head, arching upward. Its sinuous body encircled the lip of the tub, the gleaming black stone polished with great care. Only it wasn't really a dragon, Zeus knew; it was a representation of the Goa'uld, many times larger than life. This palace, this sculpture, had once belonged to his queen, Hera. She had borne him many thousands of children in this water, but now he kept her in stasis, hidden away, until he had need of her again.

The Jaffa were failing as hosts, turning away from their rightful gods, whereas the Ting-sha were loyal and devoted, without the biological imperative that kept the Jaffa enslaved to their masters.

The Jaffa were outgrowing their usefulness, but their intelligence was still far superior to the bestial Ting-sha. Zeus had decided he would keep both races in thrall a little while longer, until a solution could be found that would offer him both loyalty and brilliance in his slaves.

He sighed, slipping a little further into the warm water. His eyes closed, and he listened to the stillness around him.

The hum of an insect's buzzing wings caught his attention, and he almost called for a servant to come and kill it.

Almost.

His eyes opened to mere slits as he tried to locate the offending pest. From the pitch and speed, he knew it would be big… but there was nothing in view.

He sat up quickly, turning in a circle, intently searching for the bug now, but he appeared to be completely alone. The noise was familiar, registering now as a pitch he'd heard often recently, hidden in the background at temples, on his ships, in his palaces.

He knew that resonance, but there was nothing present that could create such a noise.

Zeus's eyes widened as a memory clicked into place. There was a legend of a flying creature that could make itself invisible; the Goa'uld had been hunting them for millennia. Rumor had it that Apophis had found them but kept the secret to himself, never availing himself of their power.

This wasn't the planet where the beasts could be found, however. Clio was nowhere near that world, yet invisibility was the only explanation Zeus could find for the sound with no source.

"Show yourself!" he ordered. "I know you are here."

Presently, the hum ceased.

He sloshed around in the water, looking in every direction, trying to determine where the creature might have alighted.

"I am here," called a small, high-pitched voice from behind him.

Zeus turned again, facing the sculpture at the foot of the pool, and then he saw it. His mouth dropped open in surprise, then hastily snapped shut again. Gods, he knew, were never taken unaware.

The creature looked almost human, but with oversized turquoise eyes set in a face framed with spiky, pale green hair. It was dressed in a black suit that covered most of its body -- which he saw appeared to be female -- and had four small wings fastened behind the being's shoulders. A smooth helmet had folded up into the collar of the suit as soon as it materialized.

His host's heart was pounding, both excited and a little afraid of it. Did it mean him harm? Could it do damage the sarcophagus couldn't reverse? Why had it been watching him?

"What do you want?" he demanded haughtily.

The being cocked her small head. "History," she answered enigmatically. She pulled her knees up and embraced them as she sat perched on top of the stone dragon.

"The history of what? I do not understand."

"Are you not a god?”  She laughed, a merry little tinkling sound that set Zeus’s blood to boiling.  “You should understand everything."

What trepidation he'd felt a moment ago vanished beneath a wave of righteous anger. "What is it that you think I can give you? Surely you have been spying on me for some reason."

A flicker of surprise flashed across the being's face. Apparently, she wasn't aware he'd realized he’d been under surveillance. Then her expression composed, hardened, and cooled. "You were once in possession of a device my people call the Hub," she explained, calling forth a holographic image of the device above the palm of her left glove. "Where did you obtain it?"

He considered, his mind racing as he immediately recognized the item. His queen, Hera, had stolen it from Ba’al and brought it back to Zeus as a prize. She had learned something of its history, and shared the details with him. He'd thought that part of the tale insignificant, compared to the information the device supposedly contained. He'd assumed the machine had been destroyed along with the ship that had carried Daniel Jackson.

The human, however, had survived. Perhaps the Hub had, as well. Now, it seemed, the origin of that ancient machine might be useful to him after all.

Deciding not to answer her query, at least for the moment, he settled himself back against the pillow with a sigh. "Now I know what you want. You shall hear what I want. Perhaps we will bargain."

Her gaze glittered with frosty certainty. "I might offer you your life. Tell me what I want to know, and I shall not kill you."

He chuckled. "I have no fear of death, Little One," he challenged honestly. "If you kill me, you will most certainly not get your answers. Try again."

"I could cause you great pain," she suggested grimly, her sweet face gone very dark with leashed menace.

"My slaves would come and kill you," he countered easily. "You have no power over me, except in the exchange of item for item."

She hesitated, her expression turning sour, recognizing that she was being forced into a bargain on his terms. "Tell me what you want, and I will tell you if it is something we can provide."

"Can, or will?" he asked with a knowing grin. "Though you are small, I believe that many of you could fulfill my desire, since you can move about without being seen."

She turned her head slightly and sighed, feigning boredom.

He laid out his terms, scooping up handfuls of water as he spoke, and idly watching the liquid drip from his knuckles. When he finished, his imagination was brimming with details, and he felt satisfied, happy. "Now, what sort of history is it that you want, little insect?" He flicked the last trickle of water at the tiny being.

The creature didn't flinch, letting the droplets spatter her. "We wish to know the location of the world where the Hub was found. Do you know this information?"

"Yes." His grin widened as he let his gaze travel all around the room, looking everywhere except at his unexpected visitor. He was enjoying this game.

"Have you been there?" she inquired flatly.

"Yes."

"Tell me what you saw," she demanded. "I will know from your description if you are lying."

Zeus thought back to that fruitless journey he's made after Hera had given him the Hub. He sighed, playing in the water again. "Ruins, in a great cavern, accessible only through the transport rings. On the surface, the chaapa'ai was burning with a flame that could not be extinguished. Everything around it was scorched and black. The control device was unlike any other, and instead of the great red crystal at its center, there was only a circular space, carved in detail. That is where the Hub was found."

Only it was Ba'al who had found it, though this little pest didn't need to know that. Hera had stolen it from him, and Zeus had placed Hera in stasis after she had given it to him, because he hadn't wanted to share the prize… or his queen. Though he had already cast her aside prior to her betrayal, he'd expected to go back to her when it had suited him, as long as she remained faithful and in his service. When she had mated with Ba'al to obtain something of interest to Zeus, in an effort to regain his attention, she had sullied herself beyond redemption in his eyes.

She'd gained his notice, all right. And as soon as he'd taken possession of the Hub and followed the trail to its disappointing dead-end, Zeus had summarily removed her from her host and put her in storage for her trouble. She had been defiled by another System Lord. He should have killed her, but she was a queen, and the Goa'uld were a declining race. As long as he had the potential of breeding with her, it would be useful to keep her alive.

A look of longing touched the tiny alien's face as he described the dead world. The wistfulness melted quickly away when he was finished speaking. She stood up carefully and her glassy wings began to vibrate and hum, beating so fast they were just a blur. She rose into the air, hovering above the marble dragon's head.

"We have a bargain, Zeus," she announced, her voice and expression going dark. "We will make arrangements to bring your prize, and when you have it, you will give us the location of this world. If you do not keep your word, you have my own -- you will die a slow, painful death, one that will take centuries."

Her helmet closed over her head, and then she vanished.

A moment later, the high-pitched background hum was gone.

He was alone now, and before long he would have his treasure.

Soon, he would be a real god.

March 2

Alpha Council Meeting

Jack O’Neill took his seat, aimlessly shuffling papers until the last of the attendees had taken his seat.

From a brief glance, it was obvious to Jack that Doctor Bill Lee was deeply troubled. He looked a little gray beneath his geeky pallor, and there were dark circles under his bespectacled eyes.  Lee was the one who had called this meeting, insisting every head of each department, including the military, be present.

Things had become way less formal in the months since Earth's destruction. Military rank was still recognized in a leadership role, but everyone was sporting longer hair, less-than-crisply-pressed uniforms, and speech was much more casual. Rules had relaxed all over the place, and slowly but surely, an actual government was taking shape. O'Neill was still in charge, but even that would be different soon. This council was evidence of the changes.

After a moment's uncomfortable silence, Jack cleared his throat, his gaze directed at the scientist. "Well, Doctor. The gang’s all here."

Bill didn't look up from the table in front of him. He lifted his gaze slightly, but still didn't make eye contact. He started to rock slightly in his chair. "I found something," he mumbled. His head bowed again, this time his stare moving to his lap. "I shouldn't have seen it," he added. "Shouldn't have."

"Bill?" Jack felt a shiver of dread brush cold fingers across the back of his neck. "Hello? Are you with us?"

Misty, pale blue eyes turned his direction. Doctor Lee spoke a little louder now, but there was a roughness to his voice, tinged with heavy emotion. "Daniel -- Doctor Jackson – he...  he advised that we only review information in the Furlings' memory database from the lives of those dead by at least a generation. He said we had a moral obligation as human beings to observe our own rules of privacy, and we agreed with him."

Jack's stomach tightened. That very thing had been the subject of hot debate among the council when the Furlings offered to share their history with Alpha, through their database of every Furling whose memories they had recorded for thousands of years, including current accounts. The military folks wanted to look at everything, to try to get at the basic truths of who these aliens were, how they thought, and what they were planning. The civilians, however, had different ideas, and they had won by an incredibly slim margin in the voting.

"Go on," Jack prodded gently, keeping his voice quiet. It was patently obvious that the scientist had seen something he shouldn't have, and he was having trouble dealing with it.

Lee sighed. He shook his head. "We have all of Doctor Jackson's memories, as recent as his last visit to Alpha," Bill continued. "The Furlings made us an interface that would allow his data to be researched for historical and linguistic information, without actually viewing the personal stuff, the actual memories, but..."

Jack watched as the man's eyes filled, his mouth pulling into a grimace as he sucked back a sob. Whatever Lee had witnessed, it was bad. O'Neill kept his mouth shut and waited.

"There was a glitch," said Bill, his voice strained. "I accessed a personal record by mistake. And I think we should all see it. Everyone at Alpha."

"Whoa, wait a minute!" Doctor Warner snapped, holding up both hands in protest. "We already made a decision on this. No one living--"

"I know!" shouted Lee, close to tears now. "Don't you think I know? My vote was the one that carried the ruling, but now." He couldn't finish, just shook his head as fat tears rolled down his cheeks.

Then, without warning, he hit the controls for the holographic viewer, built into each seat at the conference table. In the center of the room, an image appeared. All eyes were glued to it instantly, instinctively, and before anyone could protest, they were all looking at it, viewing the terrible thing that Bill Lee had accidentally beheld.

The image was blurry, but it was impossible not to recognize the familiar stars sparkling in a black velvet sky. Hanging like a slightly out-of-focus blue and green jewel in the center was the unmistakable shape of planet Earth. Framing the view was a brassy metal window incised with indistinct Goa'uld hieroglyphs and Roman characters.

A familiar voice rang out in protest, pleading for mercy, roaring in agony and measureless grief in a gut-wrenching soundtrack.

"Oh, my God," Walter Harriman breathed from Jack's left. "That's Doctor Jackson."

Through Daniel's eyes, they watched him struggle, heard him beg, his voice straining until it broke. They watched, mesmerized, as Zeus looked down his nose and smiled at Daniel's horror and distress. His shock was palpable, fresh and raw, and every member of the council felt it with him. Men and women were openly weeping, some with their faces covered -- everything but their wide, staring eyes -- sobbing softly into their hands.

Jack's mouth wouldn't move. He wanted to yell at Lee to turn it off, but he couldn't. He sat frozen in his chair, just like everyone else, riveted to the final moments of his world, unable to look away. 

It exploded in utter silence, fiery fragments flying out into the empty sky.

Then, Earth was gone.

Startled gasps became horrified whimpers, followed by soft sniffling. It was one thing to hear about the destruction, to know it had happened, and quite another to behold it in full color through Daniel's myopic eyes. Even second-hand, viewed with the lack of clarity only nearsighted vision could afford, and after all this time, the impact was devastating.

Every person present witnessed the moment Daniel's struggles ceased, when his mind switched off and his body grew still.

Bill Lee still stared at the table, tears tracking silently down his unshaven face. "I just." He sniffed and took off his glasses, setting them on the table before wiping at his eyes with his sleeve. "I didn't think it was right for Daniel to have to carry that memory all by himself.  My God, General! What he's done for us. For all of us." He lifted his teary gaze to his commander. "What he's still out there doing."

Jack swallowed down the tightness in his throat. "I know, Bill. And you're right. He shouldn’t have to bear this burden alone. Thank you." He sat back in his chair. "I'll have a little chat with our Furling friends and have them strengthen the encryption on the rest of Daniel's memories," he announced to the group. "I don't want any more accidents like this. Doctor Jackson's given up his privacy to live with those folks who don't know the meaning of the word. He shouldn't have to give up his memories, too."

While he spoke, his gaze traveled over the faces of the council members, one by one. Few were dry-eyed now; none were untouched by the view of the fate of their world. He studied Doctor Lee, who was obviously still shaken from his discovery, but calmer now that he’d shared the burden.

He'd been right about bringing this to the council. It was something they'd needed to witness first-hand in order to fully grasp the fact that Earth was really, truly gone. It made a difference, and now Jack needed to have a chat with Daniel.

"Do you have anything else on your agenda, Bill?" asked O'Neill.

Lee shook his head. "No, sir."

"All right, then. I have some business for the council," said Jack. "We've been dickin' around with our attempts to form some kind of government, and haven't made enough progress. I say it's about time to hold some elections and get this bird off the ground. I'm ready to retire; in my opinion, we need a President, a real one, and a legislative and judicial branch, not an advisory council with a military leader. So we gotta get our butts in gear and do something about that. The sooner, the better."

Every eye shifted to him and acknowledged his demand with a nod of agreement. Resolve had been strengthened, and Jack knew who had done it. 

Daniel Jackson.

Even though the archaeologist wasn't present, seeing that glimpse of his past and knowing he'd managed to move on provided a little needed push to these people. Just after witnessing the most terrible moment of the human race, they were galvanizing themselves to go forward and accomplish the rebirth of their society. He could see it in their faces, in the lifted chins and straightened shoulders, where moments ago they’d been slumped in their chairs in defeat.

Doctor Lee raised his head and made eye contact. "I nominate Daniel Jackson for President," he said quietly.

Ripples of approval and agreement were voiced all around the table.

Jack chuckled and shook his head. "Well, he'd have my vote, and I think he'd be damned good at it, but I have an idea he'd quote LBJ on that and refuse to serve, if elected. He's got other things on his mind right now, and I doubt we could get him back to Alpha till he's finished with that. We can ask him, though."

What Jack didn't tell them was that he, too, had been affected by the images he'd seen, by Daniel's pleas for mercy for his world, by his cry of horror as he realized his capitulation had come too late. Now Jack could admit to himself that Daniel had been right to do as he had, to pursue the monster who’d destroyed their world, despite Jack's orders to the contrary. And as soon as there was somebody else to fill the role Jack now occupied, he planned to turn over the reins and go help him. 

End Chapter 30

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