Sky Kings
 
 
by Travelling One
 
email: travelling-one@yahoo.ca
website: http://www.travellingone.com/
Related episodes: Avatar* (*This story was outlined before Avatar and was meant to take place in earlier seasons. Other than vague references to the technology, the episode is irrelevant.)
Season: Any time after S2 but before S8.
Summary: An afternoon at an offworld interactive museum may not be as good an idea as SG1 had hoped.
August 2005
 
 
 
"Should've brought the kids."
 
"Whose?"
 
Jack frowned at Daniel; one-liners didn't usually require three. "Hammond's grandkids. Siler's. What's the difference?"
 
Daniel couldn't help the smirk. He was with the biggest kid of all, and the afternoon promised to be interesting, at the very least.
 
"Sir?"
 
O'Neill suspected Carter was nearly drooling at the sight of the massive scientific halls, but why not? This was an interactive LIFE museum, and she had the right to be as hyper as a kid at a carnival. Daniel, too, was nearly bursting out of his curiosity containment field.
 
"Go, Carter. Take Teal'c." He himself was not so gung ho on spending the afternoon in any hands-on physics labs, reliving the days of this planet's development of binary systems, or interplanetary phase capacitor transmission signals or whatever the heck else Carter had been hearing about since stepping foot on P3X 551, Taburia. Give him electronics, home movie systems maybe, but skip the circuits and hardware. The official representatives here showing them around were diplomats, happy to be offering a taste of local culture, and O'Neill was confident his team was in good hands. They had one day here, before the official symposium was to begin, and Jack was approaching the visit from a wary perspective. "Daniel and I will go to the sports exhibits."
 
"Jack?"
 
"What?"
 
"Um, I had other plans."
 
"We stay in pairs, Daniel. No argument."
 
"But I want to see the - "
 
"Sports. Very important aspect of a culture, Daniel. I've heard you say so yourself."
 
"Yes, but that wouldn't be my first choice."
 
"Fine. We'll go to the art gallery first, do sports next."
 
"Um, uh…."
 
"What? You don't like art either?" The tone was mockingly accusatory.
 
"I love art, Jack. But I want to see the archeology and history exhibits." As I'm sure you know…
 
"And I want to see the sports."
 
"Art it is, Jack." Daniel's smile was ingratiating.
 
"Good. Then sports. And weaponry. History later."
 
Daniel sighed. "That a promise?" He could do compromises, as long as he kept Jack to time limits.
 
With a conspiratorial nudge, Jack agreed. "Mmmm, history. Hey, we might get to see dinosaurs, right?"
 
_____
 
"So what do we do?"
 
"Supposedly we each press the start button by our armrests and the display will begin. To be in the scene together, we have to press the buttons on the same armrest. Oh, and press the English ones."
 
"Cool." Each exhibit was behind glass, an intricate display organized to extend the most information through the visual sense, not unlike the large lifelike dioramas in Earth's best museums. Long laborious summaries, way too much writing in a language Jack hoped he couldn't understand but turned out to be multilingual, were plastered across the display cases beside them. On view directly in front of him and Daniel were large birds and humans in various poses, sculpted in red and black stone.
 
Sitting in the metallic chairs offered, themselves looking like avant-garde art forms with their screws and patchwork, the two teammates could see that three other people were already immersed in the sound and vision show before them, heads focused straight ahead, staring through those dark goggles, oblivious to the presence of newcomers. "Must be highly compelling."
 
Jack leaned back in the chair, more comfortable than it actually looked, with his head engulfed in the concave headrest. The black glasses over his eyes secured, he pressed the English button on the armrest.
 
"Whoa!"
 
He was standing in a wide dimly lit room, chisel in hand in front of a huge block of burgundy marble, one almost as tall as himself. Beyond, he could barely make out the top of Daniel's head just now appearing. Looking down, he kicked at the bits of litter at his feet, a mound of stone chips and dust, and stifled a cough. Half the figure before him was already sculpted, the wide-spread wings of a very large eagle-like bird carrying prey in its claws, looking like a prehistoric creation about to take off for the heavens. Daniel was across the room, working on another sculpture, concentrating on the detail with his back bent and eyebrows scrunched. "The light in here is lacking," he heard the voice issue from his lips. "I fear I will not be finished in time for the Doran's betrothal." The words may have been uttered from his mouth, but Jack knew he had not said them.
 
"Keep on, Lagmer," whoever Daniel was replied. "Food on the table is worth no sleep for this month, you have always said."
 
And the character whom Jack inhabited kept on chiseling, glancing up only to see how Daniel's sculpture was taking form, beautiful in its simplicity of a young woman braiding her hair.
 
Suddenly the scene ended and before them was only the glass display, the goggles changing quickly from blackness to a transparent clear and revealing a room brightly lit, now empty of its previous audience. Two newcomers were casually seating themselves but most viewing placements remained vacant.
 
"Well that was…odd."
 
"Vivid."
 
"Yes… and odd."
 
"Interesting."
 
"Cool." Jack removed the large eyewear, turning it over in his hands and peering through them from more of a distance. While appearing dark from the outside, the viewing lenses remained clear, like those mirrored sunglasses he used to love.
 
"I've always said the best way to understand a culture is to experience it for oneself," Daniel agreed.
 
"So you have. Think they'll give us the technology to construct these?" Now Jack was playing with the armrest, looking for a connection to the seat beneath him.
 
"We can ask. This is the effect Bill Lee and his team have been hoping to design with those chairs."
 
"Ah, the chairs," Jack scoffed. "They'll never get them to work." Bending lower, he examined the armrest's underside.
 
"They are making progress, Jack. And with some help… just think; we could make a museum like this, let the past and present and future come to life! A whole series of software, on any subject one could ever want to learn about or experience -" Daniel paused in his enthusiastic soliloquy and frowned, eyeing Jack's futile manipulations. "And I think Sam has the best chance of figuring out how it works, you know."
 
"Well… yeah."
 
Daniel cleared his throat. "So, ready to move on?"
 
Resuming an upright position, Jack nodded. "Considering this likely won't be my favourite, Daniel, I'd say that's a yes. Think they can show us the Mona Lisa being painted?"
 
_____
 
No Mona Lisa, and Jack wasn't all that fascinated with the jewel inlaying or even glass-blowing, although his jar did turn out uniform and symmetrical. Unfortunately, being stuck in virtual reality at the mercy of someone else's imagination and directives, he couldn't use Daniel's camera to prove that to anyone. While Daniel was intrigued at the similarity of the local pottery to Haida culture handicrafts, Jack found his concentration beginning to divert to the weapons displays, and realized how impatient he was becoming. They didn't really have time for this frivolity, and the more exhibits they experienced, the longer the report he would have to write back on base.
 
Even so, Jack found himself momentarily caught up in the landscaping techniques at the architectural sites that had kidnapped Daniel's nearly complete attention.
 
"Ah, never thought I'd end up gardening on an alien world," Jack commented once the automatic trimmers had vanished from his hand and the unnatural lights had come back up. "I could do that one again."
 
"All we need is to find the fishing exhibit and we'll never get you out of here."
 
"Oh, look who's talking. Wait 'til we reach the archeological displays, eh?"
 
"I have been waiting. Very patiently, I might add."
 
"And yet, I've been avoiding them."
 
"I thought so."
 
Finding themselves in a large rotunda, open galleries beckoning them from all sides, Jack nudged Daniel. "Speaking of fishing…"
 
The huge sports sign above the left-hand entryway had Daniel sighing once more in exasperation. But at least, this was a museum, this was an anthropological study, a great way to learn about a new world, and Jack wasn't complaining. Not yet, anyway. With fabricated enthusiasm, Daniel turned to his CO. "Want to do the sports room, Jack?"
 
"Well, now that you mention it, Daniel, I could be persuaded." Already four springing steps ahead of his partner, Jack hurried into the exhibit area.
 
"As long as there's no fishing. Or golf," Daniel muttered half out loud. But even he was interested in discovering what the local diversions were.
 
Seating themselves in one of the the half-full viewer sections, this display showed a model of some sort of playing field. Immediately Jack found himself in an indoor arena, much like an oversized square basketball court, the elevated onlooker stands arranged in galleries above. On each wall around the court were high round holes burrowing straight into the walls, at least four on each side.
 
Two dozen players in varied uniform colours were running about, each with a ball half the size of a basketball, and Jack realized he was in the center of the action. He was wearing a shirt and tights of orange.
 
As two players tossed their balls way up in the air towards the hole in the wall directly to his left, Jack tossed his own almost as high to intercept, knocking one ball away across the court. His orange ball bounced towards the player in blue, who caught it and threw Jack his blue one. Aiming Jack's orange ball straight into the wall hole, Blue raised his hands in victory. "Point for Esko," blared a speaker.
 
Daniel, in green, was running towards him, knocking Jack's ball from its projected target and tossing his own into the wall hole. "Point for Emond". Players everywhere were tossing, intercepting balls in mid-air with their own, and balls were bouncing all around the court, being caught and traded between them. The pace was fast and invigorating, and the exhibit hall returned the two teammates to the present unexpectedly and with - at least on his part - some disappointment, Jack realized. "Why are we panting?"
 
Daniel stopped to catch his breath, realizing he wasn't actually tired. "I don't know." Slowly he removed the goggles, large enough to fit comfortably over his own glasses.
 
"We've just been sitting here."
 
"That was very real."
 
"Yeah. I want to be goalie."
 
"They had goalies?"
 
"The guys under the wall holes, knocking most of the balls away with those black ones." The only ones that weren't allowed to be shot into the holes; that would be a penalty.
 
"Oh."
 
"Weren't you paying attention?" Jack got up and moved to a different seat, making himself comfortable, much to Daniel's dismay.
 
"What are you doing, Jack?"
 
"Told you. I want to be goalie."
 
"You're playing again? How do you know that's the goalie seat?"
 
Shrugging, Jack secured the goggles, sat back, and pressed the button.
 
And for the next ten minutes Daniel watched him smile, frown, sweat, and nearly cheer out loud, and he had to smile at his friend's pleasure. Jack never really enjoyed himself all that much. When the game sequence was over, Jack removed the eyewear, panting until he caught himself and evened out his breathing. "Wow."
 
"Goalie?"
 
"No." Catching Daniel's frown he added, "Oh, stop the pout, I won't play it again. But there were different players this time, and a different score."
 
"They must have an unlimited number of combinations."
 
"So people could play all day." Jack stood up, looking around at the various seating and display areas in the great hall. "Okay, one more in sports. You get to choose," he offered generously, aware that Daniel had sat out that last game.
 
Looking up in surprise, Daniel searched the display cases. "That one." There were paddle-like racquets and smaller, elongated balls. Maybe less of an active sport, he hoped. One with more skill, less physical effort?
 
They were on a field, a large open grassy space, and all playing members were dressed in yellow. This time, hollow tubes were stuck in the lawn, all over the place, and two teams stood opposite each other, at far ends of the rectangular field.
 
Players were hitting the dart-like balls with their paddles, aiming for the tubes each painted with numbers, higher numbers on those angled at the more awkward positions. Points, and Daniel had already gotten his ball dart in twice.
 
It took only a few minutes before the two teammates were back in the lit exhibit hall; this game had not been as complicated as the first.
 
"You're good," Jack commented, when Daniel was done.
 
"I don't really think it was me, Jack. We just play out whatever is already programmed. That's how we know what to do."
 
"Feels like it was us. I could play here all day," he commented, looking around at the other viewing stages, all nearly two-thirds full. Some people probably did come to play all day, especially the kids.
 
"Forget it."
 
"I wasn't actually considering."
 
"You know," Daniel was thoughtful, "this is great for physically handicapped individuals. They could participate in sports without having to do anything."
 
"Yes. I so want some of these for the SGC rec room."
 
"We don't have a rec room. We have a ping pong table."
 
"When I'm in charge the first thing I'll do is open a rec room. With some of these."
 
Daniel's eyebrows lifted. "When you're in charge?"
 
"One day."
 
"You want to be in charge of the SGC?"
 
"No, I want a rec room. With holographic sports."
 
Stifling a quick grin, Daniel rose. "Ready to move on?"
 
"Yes, on to weaponry."
 
"History."
 
"That's what I said."
 
"Jack."
 
"Can we at least have a quick look at the weapons?"
 
With a sigh and look of simulated rejection in Daniel's eyes, he capitulated, and the two men made their way back out into the rotunda. "Ten minutes, Jack. Or I'm going on my own."
 
"No problem." Aiming a sideways glance at his partner, Jack grinned, shaking his head. "Who'd'a thought. In a museum with Daniel Jackson, and having fun."
 
_____
 
'Specialty Exhibits'. That was the billing given.
 
All the warnings for this weapons room advised anyone pregnant, or children under the age of ten, to avoid the chairs and stick to the written and visual only displays. Not to be experienced by the weak of heart.
 
"They been communicating with Disney?" Jack quipped. "So is this the equivalent of parental guidance?"
 
"Weapons are for violence and destruction, Jack." Been there, seen that, and Daniel commended the warnings.
 
True to his word, Jack kept his exploration down to a cursory search of the visual display cases, comparing this planet's hand weapons with those of Earth. There were projectile weapons large and small, swords, catapults, hand lasers. Nothing he hadn't encountered before, although in many unusual forms and sizes.
 
"Ten minutes, Jack. Ready to go?"
 
"Can we see how that one works?" The team leader was nodding at a small version of what looked curiously like an automatic staff weapon.
 
"Later?" Daniel half queried, half advised. At Jack's undecided expression, he added, "Look, you can stay. I'm going to the history hall."
 
"Wait, Daniel. I'm coming. We stay together." As unthreatening as this place was, they were still offworld, and half a team was as much of a split as Jack was willing to allow. He tapped his watch; still enough time to do Daniel's research and come back. "Time limits, Daniel. Don't get too carried away."
 
_____
 
The history rooms commenced with the Taburians' arrival on 551, when they'd been brought by Goa'uld three thousand years before. Similar warnings to those in the weapons room were posted in this area, perhaps safeguarding schoolchildren - or their classroom teachers. More "specialty" exhibits in here, as though they were a drawing attraction.
 
"Must be something about the Goa'uld they don't want kids to know," Daniel commented sarcastically.
 
"Can't imagine what. Hell, we know what's going on in Goa'uldland, Daniel. What do you say we do without a ride on a mothership?"
 
Daniel had been staring at the lifelike but not life-size replica of a Goa'uld ship; the Jaffa insignias were unlike any he'd come across in their travels through the galaxy. Perhaps the museum artists hadn't really known what to put on these models' foreheads, and had made it up? The armour and headgear was sort of lizard-like…
 
"Daniel?"
 
Thrown out of his musings, Daniel snapped back. "What?"
 
"Skip this one?"
 
"Um, yeah. Okay." Nothing like experiencing the real thing, and this one was way too familiar. No, Daniel didn't mind avoiding a troupe of armed Jaffa marching through the halls aiming staff weapons. The sound of those footsteps never ceased to make him shiver.
 
"We ought to watch it, though. We need to find out how these people defeated the Goa'uld." Jack was reconsidering. Hell, there wasn't anything in there that they hadn't seen over and over, and any new tactics would be welcomed. After all, this was what they'd come for; not to play ball games or melt glass jars, but to find technology and weapons that would benefit Earth and help defeat the enemy.
 
"That's what Sam's finding out."
 
"Really? Cool." Jack's eyebrows rose. That meant one less concern for him.
 
"Technology, Jack. She went to the physics labs."
 
"Yes. So she did."
 
Jack wandered around the large hall gazing disinterestedly into the glass panels and dioramas, when his attention was captured by a display of a mummified body. "Hey. Right up your alley here."
 
Sauntering over, Daniel's eyes went wide.
 
"We're not going to have to watch them mummify this guy, are we?" wrinkling his nose in disgust, Jack didn't let on that he actually might want to see that.
 
"No. He wasn't artificially mummified. It says he was found buried in ice on a mountaintop in a town called Zerniab." Daniel nodded towards the mountain panorama spreading out before them. "He was about fifteen years old. This reminds me of the preserved bodies of children found in the Andes, Jack. They dehydrated in the cold."
 
"Freeze-dried?" The enthusiasm in Daniel's eyes hadn't gone unnoticed. "So… we get to go digging him up? I'll watch, you can dig." Or maybe he'd just sit back and watch Daniel in his element, enjoying the show, as Daniel had watched him playing the ball game.
 
No, Daniel deserved to have him participate in his life's ambition, something Jack knew Daniel uncomplainingly missed these days and would love to share. As his friend, Jack could humour him; after all, it wasn't a real excavation and wouldn't take much more than ten minutes.
 
"But we're so going to play another game of Knockball after this."
 
Motioning for Daniel to sit first, Jack lowered himself into the neighbouring chair, waiting for Daniel to tuck away his pack beneath the seat before pressing the start button.
 
_____
 
Then suddenly he was on a mountaintop, the chill wind freezing in spite of heavy woolen clothing wrapped around his body. His fingers were numb even beneath the thick skin gloves. Jack spun around, taking in his surroundings; his feet were heavy in fur and skin boots on a snow and ice-covered surface, and other men were milling nearby. Only the tall, jagged, snowy white tops of neighbouring mountains separated him from the heavens, and his breath caught at the view of those nearby snow-covered peaks glistening in the sunlight. Everywhere around him on this small high plain in the sky were waist-tall glittering pinnacles of ice, like immense icicles or frozen stalagmites. Where were his sunglasses when he needed them?
 
Jack coughed in the cold thin air, inhaling twice for every normal breath. Geez, leave it to archeologists. Is this where they had to dig? Daniel would no doubt already know; unfortunately there was no real, active discussion in these scenarios.
 
He turned, squinting in the bright light, and what he saw made his breath hitch once more. Daniel was seated on the white ice, draped in the identical colourful clothing of the throng surrounding him. The coats of wool were dyed in deep shades of greens and pinks, symbols surrounding a bright yellow sun. Feathers adorned the collars and headgear.
 
Beside Daniel was a shallow hole dug painstakingly in the ice with picks, and before him was a woven tray printed with emblems similar to those on the men's clothing. The representations told a story of the past, the present, and the future; for some reason, Jack knew this.
 
Had they already removed the mummy from the pit? Daniel didn't seem to be excavating; he was just sitting there, waiting for something. With a certain sense of relief, Jack realized he really didn't feel like digging up frozen ground in high altitude air at below freezing temperatures. He'd rather be playing ball games on a warm grassy field.
 
Making his way curiously over to where Daniel sat on a blanket on the icy ground, Jack was struck by what looked like fear in eyes made bluer by the catch of the sun.
 
The pit was empty; he could see that now.
 
So, no digging up of an ancient body.
 
Jack froze, realization striking hard. No, they were about to bury one. And the body wasn't even dead…yet.
 
What the hell…
 
Had Daniel neglected to mention the reason this mummy had been up here? Or had he just not been listiening?
 
From somewhere within, Jack knew to reach into the tray, knew only because the body he inhabited was doing so, guiding, and he had no choice but to obey. Picking up a long braided strip of cloth, then stepping behind Daniel, Jack realized he was preparing to cover those blue eyes that seemed to be silently pleading, embraced in the grip of fear.
 
And he tried to hold back, tried to reach the button and disconnect this game, tried to will his hands to stop and his mind to refuse the cooperation, but it was an impossible task. This drama was meant to play out, right to the end. Specialty exhibits, not for the weak of heart.
 
Crap, Daniel. What the hell is this?
 
He saw his own hands blindfolding his best friend.
 
Sorry, sorry, sorry. I really don't want to do this.
 
But the youth did not flinch, nor did he cry out. Jack took a second and third embroidered strip from the tray, and as men gently reached for Daniel's arms and wrapped them around his bent knees, Jack knotted the wrists of the youngster together, and bound the ankles.
 
Youngster? Jack could see only Daniel, yet he somehow knew this was a fifteen-year-old boy. Wasn't that what Daniel had told him, though?
 
Daniel? What the hell is going on? But the words didn't come; he knew what he had to do, and he knew why. Was this damned impotence what it felt like to have one's body taken host by a Goa'uld? It was an experience he'd rather forego.
 
And then with one final strip of cloth his hands tightly pulled the boy's lips together, tying the ends of the fabric around and behind the young man's head.
 
_____
 
Well this was unexpected.
 
There was no ice pick in his hand and he was sitting on a woollen blanket, the chill of the ice seeping through his legs even with the added layer of his long coat beneath him. Daniel looked around for Jack but saw himself surrounded only by a group of local men high on this mountaintop, some of them holding tools, and he listened curiously to their words. It sounded like they were chanting; were they taking a break? What was going on?
 
Beside him was a hole nearly three feet square surrounded by piles of ice chips, but no evidence of an ancient mummified body. How would these people even know where to dig?
 
Yet, these men didn't seem like archaeologists, didn't even seem like the present inhabitants of 551. They seemed as though they were from a period long long in the past themselves...
 
And suddenly Daniel realized with a chill not borne from the snow and ice, that the mummy was not about to be unearthed... it was about to be buried. And he also realized the role he was destined to play. Oh my god, Jack -
 
As Jack nonchalantly came into view, Daniel found himself shivering uncontrollably, partly from the cold and partly from the fear, an invisible terror that wasn't completely his own. Remaining silent, for that was his job, he could see the small crowd of men laying their picks to rest, for the hole was already deep enough for his small size. He could see Jack, in his colourful woollen clothing, the feathered collar and wrists, the stunning views of ice-capped mountaintops behind him. In his fear he understood the ceremonial ramblings of the speaker before him, and he subconsciously wondered why, for this was not a language he had ever studied.
 
And as he watched Jack approach, he saw his friend reach into a woven basket and remove a colourful strip of fabric, a binding his own mother had painstakingly crafted. He watched in horror, knowingly, as Jack lifted the piece towards him and then he saw no more, his eyes now tightly covered, small points of fading light quickly erased behind the blackness. In only moments his hands were grasped and bound around his bent, upraised knees, but still the boy did not speak. He did not complain, for he knew was doing this for his people. He had been chosen, chosen as an offering to the god of the skies, the one who ruled the mountain tops. The god who would send ice water running down from the glaciers to the rivers below, to cultivate crops and keep the people from starving. This was his duty, as he had been taught, and he would be brave.
 
It was an honour.
 
An honour.
 
Or so they had tried to convince him.
 
And yet, no sense of duty could stop him from wondering, What is this going to feel like? Why did they have to choose me?
 
He did not want to do this. He wanted to grow up, have children and crops of his own.
 
Nor did Daniel want to do this.
 
Jack? But no sound was uttered, and now even his lips were sealed shut, the strip pulled tightly around his head.
 
Daniel's heart was beating rapidly, and the struggle that he wanted to embark upon refused to come. The boy would not struggle; he would have to fulfil his duty or forever be blamed for drought; he would be banished, shamed, unable ever to return home. Even death was better than being shunned, dirt in the eyes of his own tribe, and so the boy did not complain. As so many others had done before him, he accepted what the fates had decreed to be his short life. In the adults who claimed to know what they were doing, he put his trust. They had said this would be quick. Promised it would be beautiful. They had told him the sky gods would give him a better life.
 
This they had always told the children, though the children did not always so readily believe.
 
Jack?
 
Daniel tried to struggle against the arms, but nothing would move, no limbs would listen.
 
Jack? These people sacrifice their children to the gods. To the Goa'uld, in return for health and continued survival.
 
He felt himself being lifted, lifted as easily as a child, and lowered into the depths of the ice hole.
 
_____
 
This was way longer than ten minutes, and Jack's nerves were deteriorating into panic.Why wasn't it ending?
 
With hands continuing to work against Jack's will, the body he inhabited finished tying the strip around Daniel's mouth, and listened to the ceremonial words. With this offering the people would enjoy another year of good crops, of health and survival. And while something in his own heart had ached mercilessly in tune with the last chips of the ice picks, he knew he was proud of his son.
 
The sudden realization struck an invisible blow to Jack's gut, even while he aided the others in picking Daniel up and placing him upright into the small icy grave, the man-boy bound in that tight crouching position.
 
He had taught his own son to accept these ways, taught him of the sun gods and the sky gods from beyond the mountains, beyond the sky, taught him to honour the customs of his people.
 
He had not known, upon the birth of his son, that his own child would excel above others in the teachings, show promise like no others that year, and be the one chosen for this ceremony. Celebration, they called it.
 
But he would be proud. His wife was proud, and for one more year his son would have a place of honour among his people.
 
And then, one at a time until all of them were taking part, the men swept ice and snow into the empty spaces around his friend, around the shivering man Jack knew was sitting beside him in a display gallery, feeling every moment of the freezing burial in a blindfolded world of darkness. Ice and snow filling the cracks, wedging the body in tight, right up to the neck.
 
And Jack did not want to bury Daniel.
 
Why won't this end?
 
Because the specialty exhibits were full-length features, designed to teach? Or designed to entertain?
 
Trying to stand, trying against all odds to once again claim back his own limbs, Jack tried to shut off the machine, remove those goggles, but his body refused to move. His hands were not his own, and he knew the display would not come to an end before its time was up, like any ride at any amusement park.
 
Not for the pregnant or weak of heart. Young children beware; view with the discretion of an adult. Did one's role here also depend upon which seat one was sitting in?
 
The man before him, with only his head visible above the ice block, eyes and lips sealed shut, was shivering. Was that the child, or Daniel too?
 
God, Daniel. You okay, buddy?
 
_____
 
Covered in ice nearly up to his chin, he was scared to death, the knowledge that this was an exhibit notwithstanding. This felt real, far too real. It was cold in this hole, icy cold. Trembling and worried and packed in as tightly as the snow hole would allow, Daniel's mind screamed out in refusal. He didn't want to continue with this. About to experience freezing to death, he was trapped in the reality of so many of those children before him, on a planet designated P3X 551. Just like on a planet called Earth, on the ice-capped peaks of the Andes mountains nearly five hundred years ago.
 
The incantations continued, chants and bells, music calling the gods down from the sky. Numbness had set in to Daniel's legs, his arms, and his lips quivered under the cloth. He couldn't stop shivering, and wondered if this was visible outwardly in the child's form. Would this show be over any time soon? Now would be good. Jack?
 
Then suddenly, unexpectedly and with a surge of hope, the blindfold was stripped off, the bright sunlight and shadows mingling to form shapes in the pinnacles of ice, blues and golds and bright bright white, and he heard the words of all the men. Chants, music, praying. Look into the mountains, look into the sky. Search for the king so that he may find you; plead with him to take your life, take you quickly. Pledge your life to him in return for your people; search the sky, search the ice. The Sky King will bring you home with him.
 
He could feel his heart pounding, his and the boy's.
 
And then Daniel saw the men moving away, their equipment packed onto their backs as they returned to the tracks that would lead them down the snowy mountain path. Don't leave me here! His lips were still gagged; were they afraid to hear that the boy might not be so willing to go through with this after all?
 
But he would not have called out; he could not face being disgraced. The boy would rather die. Daniel could hardly tell where his own thoughts began and ended.
 
Only Jack remained, looking down upon him, eyes locked onto the frightened eyes of the young teenager, his son. Daniel gasped with the realization. Father? Why have you allowed me to come to this?
 
Jack? Help me. Get me the hell out of this thing. Get it to end!
 
_____
 
Jack looked upon his good friend, the bright blue eyes encompassed in fear, shining in the glittering sunlight, the cold already acting to subdue the alertness. But he knew that he must perform the final act, for it was said that the sky gods wanted their offerings to be fresh, pure; but it was an unworded knowledge that this was less for the gods than a custom demanded by the parents to ensure that their children did not suffer. This was his job, and his alone, and as the others moved to the edge of the trail to witness in silence from a distance, the father took the fifth and final braided strip, so lovingly woven by his wife, and tied it around his son's throat.
 
The realization surged Jack's heart into his airway, and he could barely breathe.
 
And then with a deep inhalation saturated in bravery and willfulness, he pulled the braided rope tight.
 
And even tighter, against his own wishes, tighter and tighter and twisting, until the eyes desperatealy pleading for help widened, rolled back, and disappeared.
 
God, Daniel, NO!
_____
 
Only one man remained, although the others stopped at the edge of the receding path to watch. That man was Jack, a searing look of determination and regret etched onto his face. The creases in the forehead, outlined by the shadows of the sun and shade, made him look old.
 
But there was something else.
 
He was removing another strip from the tray, slowly, thoughtfully, another of the colourful embroidered roped fabrics. Wrapping the ends around his hands, now he was twisting it -
 
Oh Jesus, Jack! Don't -
 
Daniel's eyes watered; he couldn't breathe.
 
So, they weren't letting him freeze to death, after all.
 
So this was what it meant to be sent alive to the sky gods; now he knew, now the children knew.
 
Air
 
Come for me, Sky King!
 
Hands that tried to reach for his throat wouldn't move; an airway that tried to capture a single breath was shut tight; the distant mountains blurred into crystalline silver and the cold trapping him became an internal chill, wrapping itself around his lungs and heart and
 
_____
 
And Daniel's eyes flew open as the gallery brightened around him. Shaking, the moment he was able to tear his grip free of the armrests his hands ripped off the goggles, his own glasses flying into his lap with the motion. Then he reached for his throat, finding nothing. No bindings, no rope, yet the sensation remained, that braid pulled tight, trapping his breath within.
 
Jack was gazing down at his own hands, turning them over, his eyes watering. With a mixture of guilt and disbelief, he looked over at Daniel, and found the younger man inhaling deeply, panting, hands caressing his uninjured throat, tears finding escape from the corners of stunned, dazed eyes.
 
Then Daniel hung his head, eyes closed.
 
Finally he lifted his gaze to face the man beside him. Jack was focusing on him intensely, a look of disbelief and grim despair chiseled into his features.
 
As the two friends stared at each other, relief and uncertainty mingled in the last traces of a shared, deeply undesirable, experience.
 
"That felt real." Daniel needed to know he could still speak. His throat was not sore, but he felt the lingering sensations of tightness at his neck. Suggested and imagined, but real nonetheless, as though he had been hypnotized.
 
More than hypnotized. He could have sworn he'd been there.
 
Jack looked away, the sound of his words harsh. "That was awful."
 
For several seconds all Daniel could do was stare into his lap, absent-mindedly fingering his glasses, until he felt composure begin to envelope him. "Nothing like experiencing a culture firsthand," he stated quietly.
 
"I didn't want to do that to you."
 
"It wasn't real."
 
"My muscles still feel the pull on that rope, Daniel. I feel like I killed you. And the boy. I swear, it's going to be in my dreams."
 
Daniel once again became silent. His experience had been one-sided, and Jack had gone through something completely different. He was damn sure he didn't want to try the other version. "I'm sorry for spoiling your day."
 
"What? Yours was better?" Darkness welled in Jack's expression. "Enlighten me; is there something therapeutic in being choked to death that I'm missing, here?"
 
Elaborating, Daniel ignored the sarcasm. "You were having fun today."
 
"Yes, Daniel. I enjoyed playing the games with you. This, I did not enjoy. And remind me; how was this your fault?"
 
"I brought us in here. Forced you to come."
 
"Daniel, I expected to come to this room, knew we would since we woke up this morning. I was just giving you grief. Hell, it's what I do." There was no trace of a smile in his friend's features. "Besides," Jack added more gently, "we had to find out. If they're still sacrificing kids, if the Goa'uld aren't really gone -"
 
"It's probably just history."
 
"What do the boards say?"
 
"Past tense, no dates. Nothing about the practice itself, just about this particular sacrifice."
 
"Would they say if this was still being done?"
 
"I have no idea."
 
"Well, we have to make sure."
 
"Sacrifices happen all the time in superstitious cultures. It used to happen on Earth, too."
 
Unacceptance was evident in Jack's tone. "That makes it right?"
 
"I didn't say that."
 
"But you didn't mind taking part?"
 
Daniel's eyes clouded. "I won't be averse to skipping the rest of the history section, Jack."
 
The sigh was involuntary. "Good. It's getting late. We should go find Teal'c and Carter. See what they've got." Hopefully, Carter hadn't had to blow up Teal'c on some historical Goa'uld homeworld.
 
"What about the weaponry exhibit?" Parading the exact same warnings for the pregnant and weak of heart.
 
Contemplatively, Jack paused, noticing Daniel's strained, tense posture. Yes, and get to kill you in fascinatingly new and innovative ways? "I'll pass, thanks. I've seen what they've got." The relief in Daniel's eyes didn't go unnoticed, and Jack patted his friend's arm. "For what it's worth, I'm really sorry you had to go through that."
 
"You too."
 
Jack just nodded, looking away. "How could they kill their own kids?" Rising to pick up his pack, Jack threw it over his shoulder a bit too aggressively, then waited for Daniel.
 
Each in his own thoughts, the two men sauntered off towards the hallway, passing the exhibits of battles and conquests and crypts along the way. This planet had had as enriching a history as their own, albeit somewhat shorter, and apparently believed that to experience history was to avoid repeating it.
 
"We should have a museum like this at home, you know."
 
"We have video games. What's the difference?"
 
"We need to remember, Jack."
 
"Why?"
 
"Um… because."
 
"Good point."
 
Daniel looked miserable, immersed in his thoughts.
 
"Developers would take advantage of every money-making scenario, Daniel. They'd make interactive video games. Movies."
 
"Imagine stepping into the Discovery Channel." Daniel appeared to brighten marginally.
 
"Or The Texas Chainsaw Massacre?"
 
His demeanor deteriorating into denial, Daniel's expression sombered. "But… that could be made illegal."
 
"Like that would happen. No boundaries, Daniel. Murder, rape, all at one's fingertips. Hell, even the six o'clock news. Experience any character you want, and come out at the end with no consequences or repercussions. Who would choose to be the victim?"
 
Closing his eyes for a brief moment, Daniel stopped walking. "It could be used as therapy for prison inmates."
 
"Or training." Unintentionally, from childhood. Do you know what your children are watching?
 
Daniel stared through Jack, eyes wide and distant. "Maybe the experiments at the SGC aren't such a good idea. We should talk to Bill."
 
"They'll never get it to work, Daniel. And we'd better find out what else this technology is used for here." Maybe he ought to stay awake through that symposium after all.
 
Watching Jack's subdued body language, Daniel knew this wouldn't be the last his friend thought of what had happened here today. They really should leave this building in a better frame of mind. "Think Teal'c would like a game of..." what did Jack call it? "...Knockball?"
 
Jack hesitated, then nodded. Some things, perhaps, were probably better kept buried. And some, shared.
 
But only some.
 
 
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