“Jack?”
Someone says ashes to ashes and he can’t breathe. He has to find a way out, he can’t stop digging. Hands pull on his arms, dragging him away. There’s nothing you can do. I’m sorry, he’s gone. He fights them off, he wants to hit them, to scream, but his voice is locked in his throat and he can’t make a sound, he can’t —
“Jack!”
He jerked awake with a gasp, and for a moment the only real thing in the world was the hand on his arm.
“You were dreaming,” Daniel said, voice raspy.
Rigid from the nightmare, he had to force his body to relax before he could work enough moisture into his mouth to speak. “Sorry,” he said, scrubbing a hand over his face. This happened sometimes, to all of them: bad dreams. Opening his eyes, he looked around, but could only see darkness and had to fight off a slight nightmare-induced panic when he remembered they were underground. Ripping the Velcro cover off his watch he looked at the time — 0300 hours MST, which didn’t mean much here, but told him they had about twenty-four hours before the operation to Tollana began. He could feel pressure like a band tightening around his head, and that choked scream from his dream still clogged his throat.
“I think it’s morning,” Daniel said. “Sam and Teal’c went to find a bathroom about half an hour ago.”
Taking a breath, easing the tension, Jack just lay there for a moment. At least he wouldn’t have to try to sleep again. Rubbing the grit from his eyes, he sat up and reached for his flashlight and matches. Rustling across the straw-covered floor, he lit the lamp in the corner and the room brightened enough that he could see Daniel. The sight did nothing to help his dark mood; Daniel wasn’t looking good at all.
“How you doing?” Jack asked, trying not to betray his concern as he dropped down onto his bedroll and started lacing his boots.
Daniel made a non-committal gesture which, given his propensity to underestimate, most certainly meant he felt as god-awful as he looked. Jack ran a hand through his hair, considering his options. There weren’t many. “Maybe you should stay here? We’ll come back for you when we find a way home.”
Staring up at the ceiling, Daniel said, “I don’t want to slow you down, but I think we both know that if there’s any chance I can get back through the gate in the next twenty-four hours I should take it.”
Jack closed his eyes and swallowed hard before he said, “That bad, huh?”
“Yeah,” Daniel said shortly. “Definitely infected, probably verging on septicemia by now.”
“I’ll give you another antibiotic shot, we’ve got one more.”
Daniel turned his head to look at him, his glasses glinting in the lamplight. “Thanks,” he said. “But you know that won’t be enough.”
Jack nodded and reached out to press his hand against Daniel’s forehead. He was burning up. “God, Daniel…”
“Dose me up with everything you’ve got left and let’s just get home,” he said with a weak smile.
Jack forced a smile of his own. “You know Fraiser’s going to kick your ass for this, right?”
“At this point,” Daniel said, turning to stare up at the ceiling again, “I’m actually looking forward to it.”
Sam sat amid a small group of Aedan Trask’s people with one of their weapons in her lap. Aedan himself stood a little apart, watching her through narrowed eyes. But he seemed relaxed enough about letting her handle the gun and just leaned one shoulder against the cavern wall, sipping at a steaming mug of the herbal infusion they called tea.
Sam had refused the offer of breakfast — these people obviously had limited resources — and instead shared out the content of her Apple Maple Oatmeal MRE pack. In return, she’d gotten this close look at one of their weapons.
It was like nothing she’d ever seen before and it was almost certainly not of Goa’uld design. There was something organic about its flowing lines, from the rounded muzzle through to the segmented handle.
“It has a stun setting?” she asked, looking for some kind of interface that might regulate the power output.
Aedan shook his head. “No settings,” he said. “It’s only designed to incapacitate.” He shrugged. “Unless you’re very weak. That’s why we didn’t use it on your friend Daniel.”
That surprised her. “It’s a non-lethal weapon?”
“The Devourers prefer to consume their prey alive.”
She looked up to see if he was joking, but there was no irony in his face. “But they must —”
Her question was interrupted by a shout from the other side of the room. “Carter!”