SG1 Gen Fic "W is For Wordless"
Written for: sg_fignewton’s Alphabet Soup challenge.
Episode: The Quest II
Word Count: 1894
As the blue-tinted glow faded, Baal noted two things. The first was the rather obvious fact he, and SG-1, had been transported to another part of the cave system. The second, was that the Orici had not. He was unsure what to feel about that - Adria had been a complication he'd not made allowance for. On the other hand, something within the cave had tempered her abilities. He'd lost whatever chance there'd been to remove her from the equation altogether.
And now what? Were they truly closer to finding the Sangreal? The chamber Baal found himself in appeared to be a roughly hewn laboratory of sorts. The way Jackson had harped on about Merlin, he'd expected something more... grand. Not this dank, dark cavern untouched for centuries.
The old man unconscious on the table didn't allay Baal's misgivings either. He, and the Repository that Vala Mal Doran had activated, were the only things of note in the chamber. Ancient or not, Merlin was not someone Baal wished to interact with. He'd had his fill with Anubis, and were not the Ori enough evidence that no being should have such power? The Goa'uld had hardly covered themselves in glory, of that he was painfully aware, but their godhood had been more smoke and mirrors. The Ori, and by extension the Ancients, were truly a risk.
Baal eyed the Repository. It was frustrating to know the device held so much knowledge when his physiology was no more compatible than that of O'Neill. What a disgusting thought.
Dragged along with Carter's investigation of the cave system, it proved that the transporter had moved them further than Baal had originally thought. Gone were the rolling green fields. Now a barren desert stretched around them. The Stargate sat at a slight distance, with the obelisk beyond. He was impressed - the idea of beaming people through an open wormhole had never occurred to him. It was indeed an effective way to hide something.
Or it was until the person seeking had all the knowledge of the Ancients and could mentally manipulate the DHD.
The second problem was that Carter was unable to dial out. That meant taking the Sangreal should it be found was a pointless exercise - SG-1 would shoot him and reclaim it with ease. No, he would have to hold off until he'd had chance to fix the dialling device. He tried not to smirk at Carter's glance when he suggested such a thing. She knew how good he was.
Merlin was recovering when they returned. If it could be called recovering. Baal sneered at the old man's befuddlement. What a waste of time this had been!
“Oh brave knights,” Merlin exclaimed, clasping the hands of one after another. “Fortune indeed does smile upon me to see your faces again.”
Fortune had nothing to do with anything as far as Baal was concerned. Clearly all that time in the suspension chamber had addled the man's mind. “Looks like Merlin's drawbridge no longer goes all the way across the moat, if you catch my meaning,” he quipped, quite pleased at getting in a reference to the mythology Jackson had been going on about.
“What's that?” Merlin turned at face Baal, then scowled. “Mordred. I might have known it.”
If he'd known anything, it had clearly escaped him. The Sangreal was not here, nor was anything of worth. “We're wasting our time with this old fool! We need to get back to the gate so I can start reprogramming-”
“Be silent!”
Merlin waved with one hand. Baal rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to tell the old fool to butt out, but no sound emerged. He put a hand to his throat as Merlin walked away, effectively dismissing him.
“Well, how do you like that?” Mitchell said, amusement clear in his voice. “The old boy still has some tricks up his sleeve.”
It seemed he had. No matter how hard Baal tried, he could not say a word. He glowered at Merlin's back. Yes, the Sangreal needed to be found, if only to remove the annoyance that were the Ancients. He half listened to Jackson trying to catch the old man up with events of a thousand years. Mitchell suggested further exploration of the cave system.
“Unless you have any objections,” he challenged, shining his flashlight directly into Baal's face. He knew he could make no answer. “No? Great; move out.”
Baal grated his teeth. This was ridiculous! Teal'c propelled him after Mitchell. The Shol'va seemed to be enjoying the chance to push him around. With his superior strength greatly reduced by three days without food, and the small matter of SG-1 being armed, Baal had little choice but to follow.
A narrow passageway led deeper into the caves. It opened out again after about two hundred yards into a larger cavern. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, dripping moisture into a shallow pond. Phosphorescent plants cast a weird, pale light. It was pretty enough, but they weren't here on a sight-seeing trip. Mitchell turned around and led them back, then into another section, that proved as short on any sort of technology as the first.
However Mitchell seemed determined to explore each and every crevasse. Baal tried to argue, but whatever Merlin had done was still potent. He couldn't make a single sound, never mind utter a word. Frustration roiled in his gut. Worse was the niggling sensation of helplessness - he'd always preferred words over weapons, finding the power of persuasion longer lasting than that gained by other methods. He was finding being denied that most vexing.
Carter walked beside him, her gaze curious as she shone her flashlight around. He didn't miss her small sigh when yet another passageway ended in bare rock. As she turned, her eyes met his. He hitched a shoulder, mouth twisted in a sardonic line. Hers quirked, but then she shook her head.
“That way,” she murmured, indicating back the way they'd come. He rolled his eyes. Like they'd any choice in direction. Carter chuckled softly. She still prodded him into motion.
Little seemed to have been done when the group returned to the main cavern. Merlin sat with his eyes closed, Jackson and Mal Doran nearby watching him. Baal dropped to a crate. Mitchell reported their findings, or rather the lack of, then enquired what Merlin was up to. Jackson admitted he wasn't sure.
What was frustrating was they seemed happy to settle in and wait. Baal could barely believe this was SG-1, a team he knew as one of action. Surely they knew that every moment they delayed, was one the Orici got closer to discovering their location.
A hologram lit up the room. It was located about a round block, though how much was down to hidden technology and how much down to the Ancient's powers, Baal couldn't be sure. He wanted to ask, wanted to investigate for himself. He was also very interested in how they'd been beamed elsewhere - such technology could come in handy one day.
Teal'c left the cavern, to stand watch in case Adria managed to fathom out where they'd gone to. As Merlin stumbled away from the Repository, the air shimmered, putting the team on alert. Teal'c requested Carter and Mitchell's presence. This apparently meant Baal had to join them.
Outside, the surroundings had changed once again. So the device didn't just beam them to one location, but one of several. A circuit of planets, as Carter put it. Even with his knowledge of dialling devices, Baal wasn't sure how such a system could be implemented. An alteration to the DHD of course, with the obelisk as a transmitter, but finding what had been changed could take longer than they had at one place, and might even be different at the next.
All of which he could have told them, had Merlin not stolen his voice. Instead, he had to listen to Carter hoping she could fix the DHD and dial somewhere else. And then Mitchell forced him out to help her. He was nobody's assistant! Not to mention it was damn cold. The flurries of snow made it impossible to see.
Almost snow-blind and trying to operate SG-1's tiny computer device with frozen fingers, Baal quickly lost track of time. He struggled to think, never mind work, and it was all but impossible to offer any assistance when he couldn't talk to Carter. So Jackson calling them over the radio came as a relief. It sounded urgent. Baal was just glad to have an excuse to get in out of the cold.
Once inside, and able to breathe easier anyway, he found the odd tightness in his throat had gone. Whatever grip Merlin had had was gone. Baal suspected he knew why. He trailed into the cavern behind Carter, Teal'c gun in the small of his back, and looked at the old man, lying prone on the table again. This time, he wasn't breathing.
Jackson told them what had happened in the interim. When he fell silent, no one seemed to know what to do or say next. Carter moved closer to the table, gaze on the dead man. “He said, 'Good luck'?”
Baal had said those words to her once. He wondered if she remembered.
“Very strange.” Mal Doran stood, her arms folded across her chest as if she were cold. Or disturbed by the series of events. “It's almost as if he knew it was going to happen.”
“Which leaves us with no Sangreal and, for the moment, no way off this planet,” Mitchell pointed out.
Ah the perfect opening. “I told you I can fix the dialling device.” Baal didn't bother to hide his smirk as they all turned to stare at him. A petty revenge, but one he savoured. “Merlin's little trick with my vocal cords expired at the same moment he did.”
“Yet another reason to mourn his passing,” remarked Teal'c. The Jaffa had definitely picked up some Earth humour. Pity most of it seemed to originate from O'Neill.
“Joke all you want, Teal'c,” Baal told him. “But I am the only one who can get us out of here.”
He hoped. He certainly stood the best chance of any of them. Well, almost. Carter glanced at him, then looked at Mitchell. “He is good with dialling programs,” she said, sounding as if the statement was a confession gained under torture. “Maybe if we work together-”
They could, now. Before it hadn't mattered whether he'd been willing to help or not - his inability to communicate had been a problem compounded by the dreadful weather. He doubted the snow had stopped, but at least he could voice his concerns now. He stepped to one side of the passageway leading outside and made a sweeping gesture with one hand.
“Shall we get started then, Colonel?”
She grinned, then looked a little shocked before hiding that behind a sigh and an eye roll. He wasn't fooled, though. For a moment, she'd forgotten who he was, had allowed herself to be amused by him. Yes, words had power.
And once the Sangreal was in his grasp, he would never be without either again.
Episode: The Quest II
Word Count: 1894
As the blue-tinted glow faded, Baal noted two things. The first was the rather obvious fact he, and SG-1, had been transported to another part of the cave system. The second, was that the Orici had not. He was unsure what to feel about that - Adria had been a complication he'd not made allowance for. On the other hand, something within the cave had tempered her abilities. He'd lost whatever chance there'd been to remove her from the equation altogether.
And now what? Were they truly closer to finding the Sangreal? The chamber Baal found himself in appeared to be a roughly hewn laboratory of sorts. The way Jackson had harped on about Merlin, he'd expected something more... grand. Not this dank, dark cavern untouched for centuries.
The old man unconscious on the table didn't allay Baal's misgivings either. He, and the Repository that Vala Mal Doran had activated, were the only things of note in the chamber. Ancient or not, Merlin was not someone Baal wished to interact with. He'd had his fill with Anubis, and were not the Ori enough evidence that no being should have such power? The Goa'uld had hardly covered themselves in glory, of that he was painfully aware, but their godhood had been more smoke and mirrors. The Ori, and by extension the Ancients, were truly a risk.
Baal eyed the Repository. It was frustrating to know the device held so much knowledge when his physiology was no more compatible than that of O'Neill. What a disgusting thought.
Dragged along with Carter's investigation of the cave system, it proved that the transporter had moved them further than Baal had originally thought. Gone were the rolling green fields. Now a barren desert stretched around them. The Stargate sat at a slight distance, with the obelisk beyond. He was impressed - the idea of beaming people through an open wormhole had never occurred to him. It was indeed an effective way to hide something.
Or it was until the person seeking had all the knowledge of the Ancients and could mentally manipulate the DHD.
The second problem was that Carter was unable to dial out. That meant taking the Sangreal should it be found was a pointless exercise - SG-1 would shoot him and reclaim it with ease. No, he would have to hold off until he'd had chance to fix the dialling device. He tried not to smirk at Carter's glance when he suggested such a thing. She knew how good he was.
Merlin was recovering when they returned. If it could be called recovering. Baal sneered at the old man's befuddlement. What a waste of time this had been!
“Oh brave knights,” Merlin exclaimed, clasping the hands of one after another. “Fortune indeed does smile upon me to see your faces again.”
Fortune had nothing to do with anything as far as Baal was concerned. Clearly all that time in the suspension chamber had addled the man's mind. “Looks like Merlin's drawbridge no longer goes all the way across the moat, if you catch my meaning,” he quipped, quite pleased at getting in a reference to the mythology Jackson had been going on about.
“What's that?” Merlin turned at face Baal, then scowled. “Mordred. I might have known it.”
If he'd known anything, it had clearly escaped him. The Sangreal was not here, nor was anything of worth. “We're wasting our time with this old fool! We need to get back to the gate so I can start reprogramming-”
“Be silent!”
Merlin waved with one hand. Baal rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to tell the old fool to butt out, but no sound emerged. He put a hand to his throat as Merlin walked away, effectively dismissing him.
“Well, how do you like that?” Mitchell said, amusement clear in his voice. “The old boy still has some tricks up his sleeve.”
It seemed he had. No matter how hard Baal tried, he could not say a word. He glowered at Merlin's back. Yes, the Sangreal needed to be found, if only to remove the annoyance that were the Ancients. He half listened to Jackson trying to catch the old man up with events of a thousand years. Mitchell suggested further exploration of the cave system.
“Unless you have any objections,” he challenged, shining his flashlight directly into Baal's face. He knew he could make no answer. “No? Great; move out.”
Baal grated his teeth. This was ridiculous! Teal'c propelled him after Mitchell. The Shol'va seemed to be enjoying the chance to push him around. With his superior strength greatly reduced by three days without food, and the small matter of SG-1 being armed, Baal had little choice but to follow.
A narrow passageway led deeper into the caves. It opened out again after about two hundred yards into a larger cavern. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, dripping moisture into a shallow pond. Phosphorescent plants cast a weird, pale light. It was pretty enough, but they weren't here on a sight-seeing trip. Mitchell turned around and led them back, then into another section, that proved as short on any sort of technology as the first.
However Mitchell seemed determined to explore each and every crevasse. Baal tried to argue, but whatever Merlin had done was still potent. He couldn't make a single sound, never mind utter a word. Frustration roiled in his gut. Worse was the niggling sensation of helplessness - he'd always preferred words over weapons, finding the power of persuasion longer lasting than that gained by other methods. He was finding being denied that most vexing.
Carter walked beside him, her gaze curious as she shone her flashlight around. He didn't miss her small sigh when yet another passageway ended in bare rock. As she turned, her eyes met his. He hitched a shoulder, mouth twisted in a sardonic line. Hers quirked, but then she shook her head.
“That way,” she murmured, indicating back the way they'd come. He rolled his eyes. Like they'd any choice in direction. Carter chuckled softly. She still prodded him into motion.
Little seemed to have been done when the group returned to the main cavern. Merlin sat with his eyes closed, Jackson and Mal Doran nearby watching him. Baal dropped to a crate. Mitchell reported their findings, or rather the lack of, then enquired what Merlin was up to. Jackson admitted he wasn't sure.
What was frustrating was they seemed happy to settle in and wait. Baal could barely believe this was SG-1, a team he knew as one of action. Surely they knew that every moment they delayed, was one the Orici got closer to discovering their location.
A hologram lit up the room. It was located about a round block, though how much was down to hidden technology and how much down to the Ancient's powers, Baal couldn't be sure. He wanted to ask, wanted to investigate for himself. He was also very interested in how they'd been beamed elsewhere - such technology could come in handy one day.
Teal'c left the cavern, to stand watch in case Adria managed to fathom out where they'd gone to. As Merlin stumbled away from the Repository, the air shimmered, putting the team on alert. Teal'c requested Carter and Mitchell's presence. This apparently meant Baal had to join them.
Outside, the surroundings had changed once again. So the device didn't just beam them to one location, but one of several. A circuit of planets, as Carter put it. Even with his knowledge of dialling devices, Baal wasn't sure how such a system could be implemented. An alteration to the DHD of course, with the obelisk as a transmitter, but finding what had been changed could take longer than they had at one place, and might even be different at the next.
All of which he could have told them, had Merlin not stolen his voice. Instead, he had to listen to Carter hoping she could fix the DHD and dial somewhere else. And then Mitchell forced him out to help her. He was nobody's assistant! Not to mention it was damn cold. The flurries of snow made it impossible to see.
Almost snow-blind and trying to operate SG-1's tiny computer device with frozen fingers, Baal quickly lost track of time. He struggled to think, never mind work, and it was all but impossible to offer any assistance when he couldn't talk to Carter. So Jackson calling them over the radio came as a relief. It sounded urgent. Baal was just glad to have an excuse to get in out of the cold.
Once inside, and able to breathe easier anyway, he found the odd tightness in his throat had gone. Whatever grip Merlin had had was gone. Baal suspected he knew why. He trailed into the cavern behind Carter, Teal'c gun in the small of his back, and looked at the old man, lying prone on the table again. This time, he wasn't breathing.
Jackson told them what had happened in the interim. When he fell silent, no one seemed to know what to do or say next. Carter moved closer to the table, gaze on the dead man. “He said, 'Good luck'?”
Baal had said those words to her once. He wondered if she remembered.
“Very strange.” Mal Doran stood, her arms folded across her chest as if she were cold. Or disturbed by the series of events. “It's almost as if he knew it was going to happen.”
“Which leaves us with no Sangreal and, for the moment, no way off this planet,” Mitchell pointed out.
Ah the perfect opening. “I told you I can fix the dialling device.” Baal didn't bother to hide his smirk as they all turned to stare at him. A petty revenge, but one he savoured. “Merlin's little trick with my vocal cords expired at the same moment he did.”
“Yet another reason to mourn his passing,” remarked Teal'c. The Jaffa had definitely picked up some Earth humour. Pity most of it seemed to originate from O'Neill.
“Joke all you want, Teal'c,” Baal told him. “But I am the only one who can get us out of here.”
He hoped. He certainly stood the best chance of any of them. Well, almost. Carter glanced at him, then looked at Mitchell. “He is good with dialling programs,” she said, sounding as if the statement was a confession gained under torture. “Maybe if we work together-”
They could, now. Before it hadn't mattered whether he'd been willing to help or not - his inability to communicate had been a problem compounded by the dreadful weather. He doubted the snow had stopped, but at least he could voice his concerns now. He stepped to one side of the passageway leading outside and made a sweeping gesture with one hand.
“Shall we get started then, Colonel?”
She grinned, then looked a little shocked before hiding that behind a sigh and an eye roll. He wasn't fooled, though. For a moment, she'd forgotten who he was, had allowed herself to be amused by him. Yes, words had power.
And once the Sangreal was in his grasp, he would never be without either again.