CHAPTER THREE
"You idiot!" Colonel Marcus Breck roared over the phone. "You were supposed to bring him back unharmed! How the hell are we going to get any information from him if he's unconscious?"
"I'm sorry, sir. It was not intentional," Major Raymond Howell explained. "When we forced him off the road, we failed to see that there was a steep embankment in that spot. By the time we realized it, it was too late. Lieutenant Newman says that it's just a concussion, and Jackson should regain consciousness within a few hours. He does have two broken ribs, however, so we need to be careful in handling him. Newman does not think there are any internal injuries, though his medical knowledge is limited."
"Do whatever it takes to keep Jackson alive, Major. I don't think I need to tell you how important he is. The Goa'uld knowledge in his mind will give us what we need to protect Earth."
"Yes, sir." Howell paused. "Sir, are you sure that the memory device will work? Can it extract memories buried in the subconscious?"
"It did succeed in bringing out the repressed memories that Jolinar left in Major Carter's mind, so the chances are good that it will do the same with the Goa'uld memories. However, we're going to try the hypnosis first, which has been proven to be able to unearth memories buried in the subconscious. Once the Goa'uld knowledge has been retrieved from Jackson's subconscious, we can use the memory device to get everything we want."
Howell nodded, though the colonel could not see him. "We received word that Jackson's car was found by SG-1. A forensics team is examining it."
"Is there any chance that they'll be able to trace anything back to us?"
"No, sir. The car we used was stolen and has been destroyed. There were no witnesses to the incident. Nothing was left behind that could reveal our identities."
"Good. As soon as Jackson is conscious and aware enough, have Newman put him under hypnosis. I want you to call me the second you think that he's sufficiently recovered."
"Yes, sir."
Howell disconnected the call, thinking that, very soon, they might have all the advanced technology they'd need to protect Earth against the Goa'uld.
Jack slammed down the phone. Four hours. Four long hours, and he was no closer to finding Daniel than he had been when he started. None of his contacts had any information on what might have happened to the archeologist. Sam's Internet search had also yielded nothing, even though she had gotten into several classified sites, like the CIA's and NSA's. Whoever had taken Daniel was flying completely under the radar. Sam and Teal'c were now at the NID headquarters in Nevada, hoping that they'd be able to find out something from someone there.
Jack was sick with worry. His worry had increased even more when the forensics team reported finding blood in Daniel's car. Either he had been injured in the crash or the people who took him had hurt him. Either way, Jack had been spending part of these hours thinking up all the ways that he could torture the people who grabbed his friend.
Jack rested his head in his hands. He'd run out of people to call. Hammond, too, had been spending a lot of time on the phone. His call to the president had resulted in a promise from the Commander in Chief that he'd do everything in his power to find out who took Daniel and where the archeologist was being kept. Since the knowledge that Daniel might hold could be considered a threat to national security in the wrong hands, the president was taking the kidnapping very seriously, as were a lot of other people. Things were definitely going to get hot for whomever took the archeologist. Jack could only hope that the heat would be enough to flush them out into the open.
As Jack sat, wondering what he could do to help the search now, a name popped into his head. He picked up the phone and called back one of the individuals he'd contacted earlier.
"Hey, it's Jack again. No, I know that you wouldn't have any info on Daniel yet. I want you to see if you can get me a contact number or email address for someone else: Harry Maybourne."
An aching pain in his head and a much sharper pain in his chest roused Daniel from unconsciousness. He opened his eyes a slit and looked up at the featureless white ceiling above him. The ceiling and the absolute silence in the room clued him into the fact that he was not in the infirmary at the SGC. So, where was he?
Cautiously, Daniel turned his head to the side, biting back a moan when the movement upped the pain in his head by several notches. He was in a barren room with two doors and a window that was barred and shuttered. He spied a closed circuit camera in the corner near the ceiling. The bed he was lying on was the only piece of furniture in the room, except for a lone chair nearby.
Daniel tried to remember what had happened to him. The last thing he could recall was leaving for work. He touched his forehead and found a bandage on the left side, near his temple. The blurred vision, nausea and splitting headache all told him that he had a nasty concussion. The pain in his chest sent his hands to that location. Daniel had suffered from cracked ribs on more than one occasion, but he couldn't ever remember it hurting quite this much. Maybe, this time, he'd broken one or two. He tried to take a deep breath, but instantly regretted it as agony set fire to his nerve endings. He couldn't stop the groan that escaped his lips. Gritting his teeth, Daniel took fast, shallow breaths until the pain had subsided. Okay, his little test had probably pretty much confirmed that he had at least one broken rib. He just hoped that's all that was wrong in there.
The sound of the door opening drew Daniel's attention to it. A tall, dark-haired man he didn't recognize came in.
"Hello, Doctor Jackson," he said pleasantly. "How are you feeling?"
"Oh, just wonderful for someone with a concussion and broken ribs. How about you?"
The man smiled faintly. Something about the smile made Daniel guess that the man did not have his best interests at heart.
"I apologize for that. We didn't intend to injure you when we picked you up."
"Picked me up? Forgive me if I seem dense, but I have no idea what happened."
"Ah, yes. That would be because of the concussion. Well, let me fill you in. I am a member of a group of individuals who are very interested in the knowledge that the Harcesis child placed in your mind. We want that knowledge, and, since we knew that you wouldn't volunteer to give it to us, we intercepted you on your way to work this morning. Unfortunately, in the process, your car went off the road and down a steep embankment. That's how you received your injuries."
Daniel was starting to grow drowsy. "Too bad. I bet this puts a crimp in your timetable, huh."
"Oh, don't concern yourself about that. Since nobody has any idea where you are, we can afford to allow you a bit of time to heal before we try to get the information from you."
Daniel could feel himself fading out. He tried to remain conscious, but it was a losing battle. "You don't understand what you're doing. It's . . . too dangerous." The last word was barely a whisper as darkness closed over him again.
The email to Harry Maybourne had been sent off two hours ago. Jack didn't know how long it would be before he received a reply – or if he would even get one at all. Until then, all he could really do was wait. Jack hated waiting. He felt like he needed to be out there looking for Daniel. But how could he look when he had no idea where to go? They were all positive that the NID was behind Daniel's kidnapping, but there was no proof. Sam and Teal'c's trip to Nevada had been fruitless, though they'd talked to everyone they could. Actually, Sam had talked while Teal'c loomed threateningly. The looming and the talking accomplished nothing. Everyone there claimed that they knew nothing about Daniel's disappearance.
The ringing of the phone startled Jack out of his thoughts. He picked up the receiver.
"O'Neill."
"Hello, Jack," drawled a familiar voice.
"Well, hello there, Harry. How good of you to call."
"Well, it's the least that I could do considering that I have you to thank for my freedom in this tropical paradise."
"Yeah, well, the next chance I get, I'll be seeing about changing that."
"So, I got your message. What's this all about? It must be pretty serious for you to contact me."
"Daniel's missing. Somebody snatched him this morning."
"How tragic. So, what reason did someone have for taking your pet archeologist?"
"Oh, I'd be willing to bet that you already know that, Harry."
"Jack, Jack, Jack. I'm no longer in that business. I'm now just a man of leisure enjoying my retirement."
"Get off it, Maybourne," Jack snapped. "Guys like you never retire. You've still got your fingers in the pie."
"Well, even if I do, what makes you think that I know anything about Jackson's kidnapping?"
"Because it involves the Stargate Program and because your ex-pals in the NID are behind it. Daniel was taken because of knowledge that he may have about advanced Goa'uld technology. That's exactly what you and the people you worked with wanted. So, stop pretending that you don't know anything."
There was a brief moment of silence. "All right, I may have heard something about Jackson and an interest in some knowledge he may possess, but I don't know who took him or where he is."
"Then find out. You've got the contacts. I'm sure you can get information that we can't."
"And why should I do that, Jack? Jackson's been a sore spot on my ass since he helped the Tollans escape."
"Well, I can give you three reasons, Harry. The first is that the president himself is involved in the hunt since the knowledge Daniel may have could be very dangerous in the wrong hands. It's being considered a threat to the country, make that a threat to the entire planet. If, in pursuing leads in the case, something should lead back to you, I doubt that there being no extradition treaty with the U.S. wherever you are will stop our government from hauling your ass back here and back into a nice cozy jail cell. The second reason is that you know how valuable Daniel is to the program, how much we need his skills. Your people and the SGC may go about things differently, but we both have the welfare of Earth foremost in our minds." Jack's tone darkened. "The third reason is me. If something happens to Daniel, there is not a place on this entire planet that you can hide where I won't find you, and I promise you that, by the time Teal'c and I get through with you, there won't be enough left to put in a shoebox, let alone a jail cell. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes, I'd say that you expressed yourself quite adequately, Jack."
"Good. I wouldn't want there to be any misunderstandings between us."
"All right, I'll see what I can come up with. I'll call you back at this number if and when I've learned something. Always a pleasure chatting with you, Jack."
A click and the following silence told Jack that Maybourne had hung up. He returned the receiver to its cradle. He hated having to turn to the ex-NID man for help, but he was desperate. The more time that passed with Daniel in the hands of his kidnappers, the higher the chances were that, by the time they found him, he'd either be dead or would no longer be the man they all knew. Between the two eventualities, he knew that his friend would prefer the former. But what if it was the latter? Would there be any way that they could put the Goa'uld memories back in their hiding place, close Pandora's box? Oma Desala could probably do it. After all, she made Shifu forget. But how would they get in touch with her? Tell all SG teams to be on the lookout for glowy people?
Figuring that Maybourne wouldn't call back for a while, Jack went to Sam's lab. He found the scientist sitting in a chair by her computer. She was staring at something in her hands. As Jack got closer, he realized that it was the broken remains of Daniel's glasses. The forensics team had found them on the floor of Daniel's car. The left lens was cracked, the frames bent.
"Carter?" Jack inquired gently.
Sam's head snapped up. She hastily wiped the wetness of tears from her face. "Sir! I, uh. . . ."
"There's no need to explain or apologize, Carter. I'm worried, too."
"Yes, sir. Have you heard anything?"
"No. But I just had a conversation with Harry Maybourne."
Sam's eyes widened in surprise. "Maybourne?"
"Yeah. I left him a message via email to call me. I figured he'd have contacts that we don't and might be able to find out something."
"But why would he help, sir? He's a wanted criminal that you helped put behind bars, and he has no reason to like Daniel. Just the opposite."
"Oh, I gave him a few good reasons, one being that, if he didn't and something happened to Daniel, I'd personally hunt him down and dissect him into tiny little pieces, after Teal'c had some quality time with him, of course. I think that convinced him that helping us would be a wise choice for the sake of his continued good health."
Sam smiled faintly. Her smile faded. "What do you think they're doing to Daniel, sir?"
Jack sat down. "Well, they're not going to hurt him, not physically. They need him conscious and relatively healthy if they're going to get those Goa'uld memories out of him."
"But he must already be injured since there was blood in the car."
"Yeah, I know. I just hope it wasn't serious. They wouldn't take him to a hospital, so, unless they have a doctor working for them, Daniel probably won't get much medical attention. But they need him alive, so they're going to at least see to that."
Sam's eyes met his, fear darkening the blue depths. "Sir, what will we do if they manage to retrieve those Goa'uld memories, and Daniel is . . . isn't Daniel anymore?"
"Like I said before, we'll try to reverse it somehow. I'm not going to give up on him, no matter what."
"Me neither. I know that, when Jolinar was inside me, none of you gave up on me. We'll get Daniel, our Daniel, back somehow."
"You betcha."
The second time Daniel awoke, he felt a little better, at least his head did. His ribs were still killing him. Moving was the last thing he wanted to do, but his bladder was making it known that it really needed to be emptied. Daniel hoped that the other door, the one that his charming visitor had not entered by, led to a bathroom. Otherwise, things were going to get messy. The problem was, how was he going to get there?
Preparing himself, Daniel very slowly sat up. The pain in both his head and chest flared into a silently screaming chorus, and, for a moment, Daniel thought he was going to pass out. Fighting back the blackness, he waited a few moments to catch his breath, then sat up the rest of the way. Dizziness assailed him, and he grabbed onto the bed for support. His nausea had returned and was threatening to make his breakfast put in a reappearance. A cold sweat had broken out on his forehead.
Once he felt like he could stand without falling flat on his face, Daniel slowly got to his feet. He almost made a swift descent back onto the bed, but somehow managed to stay in a vertical position.
Using the wall as a brace, Daniel made it to the door that he hoped was to a bathroom. The sight of a toilet and sink once he opened the door filled him with relief. Clinging to the edge of the sink, he succeeded in relieving himself. He'd no sooner done that, however, when his stomach rebelled, and he was on the floor retching into the toilet. Agony tore through his chest and head, and his vision greyed. Holding onto the toilet bowl, he desperately fought to remain conscious, but as the last of the heaves came to an end, everything went dark, and he crumpled to the floor.
"What's your status?" Colonel Breck asked.
"Jackson is presently unconscious," Major Howell replied. "He's woken up twice so far, but he over exerted himself the last time while using the bathroom."
"Did he injure himself more?"
"No. Lieutenant Newman thinks that he's all right, though the broken ribs and concussion are definitely causing a problem."
"Things are getting hot, Major. The president has every intelligence agency in the country, not to mention the military, looking for Jackson, including those in the NID who are not connected to us. The search has been given top priority."
"Damn. We didn't count on that, sir."
"No. Apparently, the president has been convinced that the knowledge hidden inside Jackson's mind could pose a serious threat to the planet if the wrong people – namely, us – get their hands on it."
"So, what are we going to do?"
"The instant Newman feels that Jackson is strong enough to undergo the hypnosis, I want it done. We need to get what we can out of him as fast as possible. Once we've got the plans to that defense system that Jackson built in his dream, as well as the personal shields, the transport rings, and the method to disable a Stargate, we'll cut our losses and get out of here."
"Cut our losses? You mean that we're not going to take Jackson with us like we planned?"
"No. As long as he's in our possession, they'll never stop looking. Once he's dead, the search will end, and no one will know if we managed to get the information from him."
"Sir, if we kill Jackson, his teammates will be even more determined to hunt us down."
"I'm not worried about SG-1. Without the resources of the rest of the military and the intelligence community, they'll never be able to find us."
Daniel's third ascension into the realm of the conscious was soon followed by the realization that he was not alone. He opened his eyes to see that his oh so polite visitor had returned. He also found out that he had been put back in the bed. In addition to that, the pain had eased considerably. They must have given him some painkillers while he was out.
"Hello again, Doctor Jackson. You know, you really should have given us a holler if you needed to use the facilities."
"Well, I've been taking care of that on my own since I was around one and a half, so you can understand why I wasn't eager to ask for help. Besides, I failed to see a call button around anywhere."
"No need for a call button. There's someone watching you round the clock. Just call out, and somebody will come give you a hand."
"How very four-star of you. Too bad the decor and the view don't match the excellent room service."
The man shrugged. "Budget cuts. What can I say?"
Daniel stared at him. "You know, you have me at a disadvantage. You know my name, but I don't know yours."
"Ah. Well, for the sake of convenience, how about if you just call me . . . Roy."
"Roy?"
"Yippee-ki-yay."
Daniel frowned, thinking that sounded vaguely familiar.
'Roy' smiled at him. "I'm guessing that you're not a fan of Die Hard."
That's when it clicked. "Ah. Die Hard, huh? You and Jack would get along marvelously . . . well, all except for the fact that he'd likely kill you."
Roy chuckled. Then he sobered. "I hate to do this to you, Doctor Jackson, but I've been ordered to determine when you're healthy enough for us to get busy with what we invited you here for, and, though I know that you're still having trouble with that concussion of yours, not to mention the ribs, I think that we can start the process."
Daniel was suddenly terrified, knowing that what they intended to do might release all of the Goa'uld genetic memories into his consciousness.
"Listen, I know that you're probably not going to believe me, but what you're planning to do is too dangerous," he said. "If you know about what Shifu did to me, you know what I became in that dream and you know what nearly happened because of it."
"Yes, we know the whole story as you wrote it in your report. I understand your concerns, but we will be very cautious in using whatever technology we glean from your memory. We're certainly not going to risk starting World War Three."
"And what about me? You know what that knowledge is going to do to me." Daniel paused. "Or am I not going to live long enough to cause a problem in that regard?"
Daniel saw a flicker of regret in the man's eyes. "We had intended on keeping you to get as much information out of you as possible, but it seems that the president has lit a big fire under a lot of feet. Congratulations, Doctor. You are presently in the top ten on the country's list of most sought after people."
"Go me."
Daniel fell silent. In a way, the news of his impending death was a relief to him. He'd far rather be dead than be what he was in that dream. On the other hand, where there was life, there was hope, and a tiny part of him had carried the hope that, if he was taken over by the Goa'uld genetic memory, someone would figure out a way to make him forget again. Or perhaps Oma or Shifu would come to help.
"All right, we might as well get started with this," Roy said.
"What are you going to do?"
"Well, first, we're going to hypnotize you, which, as you may know, is sometimes used to unbury repressed memories."
"Um, I don't know a whole lot about hypnosis, but doesn't the subject have to be a willing participant?"
"Yes, that is normally true. You can't force a person into a state of hypnosis against their will. However, we happen to have a handy little drug that will put you in a mental state that will make you easy to hypnotize."
Roy went to the door and opened it. He ushered in two men, one with a wheelchair that had straps on the arms and another with a wheeled tray carrying a vial of clear liquid and a syringe. As they approached him, Daniel thought about putting up a fight, but he knew that he was far too weak to accomplish anything except possibly putting one of his broken ribs through a lung. On the one hand, that would definitely stop them from hypnotizing him, but, on the other hand, he'd probably die before they got him medical attention.
Daniel was carefully gotten out of the bed and placed in the wheelchair. His arms were strapped down. While that was being done, Roy filled the syringe.
Daniel started to recall some of the things that Jack had taught him about how to resist chemical interrogation. He didn't know if any of those things would help against the drug he was going to be given, but it was worth a try. He also knew that people could not be made to do things against their will while under hypnosis. Would his fear of the Goa'uld memories be enough to combat the drugs? If it wasn't, he'd be lost, and no one would be able to help him.
Roy tied a band around Daniel's upper arm and started looking for a good vein. As he lowered the needle to Daniel's skin, the archeologist caught his gaze.
"Please don't do this," he pleaded. "You're making a mistake."
Again, Daniel saw something flicker in the man's eyes, then it was gone. The needle was inserted in his vein and the drug injected.
"That will take a few minutes to take effect," Roy said as he put the used syringe back on the tray. He turned to one of the other men. "Make sure they're recording this. We don't want to miss anything." The man left the room.
Two or three minutes had passed when Daniel started experiencing some lightheadedness. It was soon followed by a strange feeling of complete peacefulness, like nothing mattered and all was right with the world. He tried to fight it, but the feeling was too powerful. He was floating on a tranquil cloud where there were no worries, no fears, no pain.
"Hello, Daniel," said a quiet voice. Daniel looked up and, through a haze, saw Roy's face smiling down at him.
"Hi," Daniel responded, not realizing that his voice had the inflections of a child.
"How are you feeling?"
"Really good. Haven't felt this good in a long, long time, not since, um . . . not since Mom and Dad died when I was a little kid."
"Well, I'm glad that you're feeling so good. Now, I need you to pay attention to me. I'm going to be hypnotizing you, but it won't hurt."
Daniel frowned. "I'm not supposed to let you do that."
"I know, but it's all right. There's nothing to worry about. There's nothing bad here. We're all friends. Okay?"
Daniel thought about it for a moment, or at least what qualified as thought in his present state. "Okay."
"Good. Let's get started."
As Roy went through the steps of putting him into a state of hypnosis, a voice deep inside Daniel was calling out, telling him that he needed to fight. But the effects of the drug were too strong, and Daniel succumbed to the mesmerizing quality of Roy's voice.
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