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Title: Shores of Avalon
Author: OXBastetXO
Category: action/adventure
Spoilers: The movie, Children of the Gods, Fire and Water, Hathor
Sequel/Season Info: First season
Rating: PG-13
Content Warning: Gratuitous Danny pounding
Summary: The team is lured into a trap by one of their own.
Showtime and MGM/UA owns Stargate: SG-1 and all there in. I'm just borrowing them for a bit, and I promise to give them right back when I'm done. Well, most of them, I might just keep Jack and Daniel for a bit longer.
The Shores of Avalon
by
OXBastetXO
"Peterson! Get that thing open now!" Major Thomas Andros ordered ducking behind a stone outcropping by the stargate.
Doctor Daria Peterson hurried to dial in the address for earth on the mechanism they called the "dial home device". She pressed down on the last cartouche and laid her hand on the crystal in the center of the DMD. The Stargate stated to rumble to life as the chevrons started to lock into place. With a rushing swirl, the wormhole blossomed to life. "Gate's open!"
"Peterson, look out!" Tarons yelled and she dove behind the DHD as arrows started to hail down on them.
"I don't think they like us," Peterson sighed, pulling her rifle around in front of her.
"Oh, come on, Dar. What would give you that idea?" Andros said sarcastically. He leaned up a bit to call to Tarons and Fishburn. "Come on you grunts, time to blow this pop stand."
Andros laid down a barrage of cover fire as the two solders dashed for the gate. Peterson creped out around the edge of DHD and started firing as well. Andros started to work is way towards her when one of the native arrows caught him in the shoulder slamming him to the ground.
"Major!" Fishburn called, starting back for their fallen commander.
"No!" Peterson ordered. "Through the gate!"
"But Peterson," Fishburn started, "The Major!"
"Through the gate! You have your orders, get back and warn the others!"
Fishburn glared at her, but obeyed. He and Tarons disappeared through the gate.
She knew what they were thinking. 'Never leave a man behind,' that was the unwritten law of the military, but an even greater one was 'Obey orders.' And their orders were access the area and get back. Period.
She watched them go and then gave herself a small mirthless smile. Forget orders, she wasn't military. On of few perks to be the civilian anthropologist on SG-4. Good thing she wasn't, because what she was about to do was going to get her into as much trouble as she could handle.
She hated what she was about to do, but right now she didn't have much choice if they were going to get out of this alive. She pulled a grenade out of the pocket of her flack jacket and slipped her finger thought the pin. She glanced down at it once, her 'luck' hand grenade. Mike had made her take this thing on every mission. "Just in case you get your butt up a creek with out a paddle," he had said. If this want that proverbial creek, she didn't know her geography very well.
She yanked the pin out with out another thought and lobbed it in the direction of the where the arrows were coming from and braced for the explosion she knew was coming.
Dirt and rock rained down on her was the grenade exploded in a deafening roar. She was on her feet and running for Andros before the worst of it had stopped showering down on her.
"Peterson, are you crazy?" Andros choked out through the cloud of dust.
"Only if we don't make it," she said helping to his feet.
Peterson started to lay down a blanket of cover fire as Andros stumbled toward the gate. She started to follow him when a shape erupted from behind a pile of boulders beside the gate. Peterson went down hard, her rifle flying out of her hands. Stars exploded behind her eyes. Somewhere off to her left, she heard Andros yelling. "Oh, crud," she thought. "Mike's going to kill me." Then the world went black.
Colonel Jack O'Neill hated funerals. He hated them with a passion. He glanced over at lieutenants Phil Tarons and Alex Fishburn and he knew what they were thinking. He knew what he had thought when he and the others of SG-1 thought they had lost Jackson on a mission just a few month before. He glanced over at Michael Adams and sighed. The young captain stood there with a lost look on his face trying his best to keep the hurt and anger out of his face, but not out of his eyes. He had not lost just comrades, he had lost a sister.
He remember when Adams had confided in him late one night that Daria Peterson was his sister. He hadn't been sure if he should tell General Hammond about this because of the standing order that family members were not allowed to serve together on dangerous assignments, but then again, Daria was civilian anthropologist and not in the military itself. Even so, Hammond hadn't been thrilled when he found out.
O'Neill pulled out of his musing as the honor guard finished folding the flag and offered it to Adams. Taps started to play and Fishburn and Tarons stepped forward to place a wreath in the activated stargate. Suddenly, the klaxon blared warning of someone coming through the stargate.
"Incoming traveler," a technicians voice blared from the over head speakers.
Solders scrambled away from the Stargate and armed guards poured in from the corridor. They took positions on either side of the gate. Hammond started to call for the iris to be closed as two figures stepped through it.
A man and a woman stepped out on to the ramp and stopped. The man was holding a spear and wearing some sort of kilt and cloak of roughly woven plaid pattern. The woman was dressed in a gown of deep forest green with a cloak in the same pattern as the man. Her red hair hung in hundreds of tiny braids, cascading down her back. Blue paint in swirled patterns decorated their faces. They froze at the sight of all the weapons pointed at them.
"Daria?" Adams said stepping forward.
The woman's face brighten and she made a step toward him but stopped in panic as the score of rifles cocked simultaneously. "Mike?"
The warrior man snapped to attention and saluted. "Major Thomas Andros and Doctor Daria Peterson reporting." He gulped and lowered his arm. "Um, you can lower your weapons now."
General Hammond stared at them for a moment and said, "At ease men."
A whoop when through the room and Adams swept Peterson up in his arm. Fishburn and Tarons pounded Andros on his back, welcoming them home.
Hammond walked to Andros and shook his hand, "Good to have you back, Major. Now would you like to tell me where you have been?"
A few hours and several pot of coffee later, Andros and Peterson was still if full gear.
"The natives, they call themselves the Tuatha de Danann," Peterson explained.
"Faeries?" Jackson interrupted.
"Yes, they believe that Llew took them to the faerie realm to be his servants."
"Wait a minute, who is this Lou guy?" O'Neill asked.
"Llew was the Celtic god of the sun," Jackson eyes slowly widened in understanding and he turned to look at Peterson. "Are you saying that these people were taken to that planet by Ra?"
Peterson nodded. "They call him the 'false' Llew. The powerful one who came promising much but bringing death."
"Sounds like Ra, alright," O'Neill said.
"They said that he left Tir Na Nog, from what I've been able to figure, about a year and a half ago and has never returned."
"Whoa, slow down. What's this Tire," O'Neill made a face, "Eggnog place?"
"Tir Na Nog is the Celtic place name meaning "land of the forever young," Jackson explained in exasperation. He looked back at Peterson, "A year and a half ago would about been the time of the first SG mission to Abydos."
"That's what I thought," she said quietly.
"You said the native, these Tuatha de Danann, attacked you when you came through the gate," General Hammond addressed Andros.
"Yes, sir. They thought we were Goa'uld . After they captured Peterson and myself, we were able to convince them that we really were who we said we were."
"General Hammond, I would like to be able to go back to Avalon. There is so much we can learn from these people."
"Avalon? I thought you just said these people call this place Tir Na Nog," General Hammond interrupted.
"Yes, well, you see," Peterson struggled to phrase it. "Tir Na Nog is the general place name, their name for the planet. The clan we were with called their lands, Avalon."
"Avalon, like in Arthurian legend?" Carter asked.
"Exactly. The reason we need to go back is that they clan chief said there was a temple to the "false" Llew just a few day away from the village."
Jackson sat forward in his seat. "There is a temple to Ra on Avalon?"
Peterson nodded. "That's what Ban'te, the clan chieftain told us. They don't go their themselves, because the place is sacred to Bridget." She turned back to look at General Hammond. "That was the other reason we have to go back. The people said they had been helped by the wise and powerful Bridget." She looked at Andros a moment and then turned to face Hammond again. "We believe that Bridget maybe of the race of Thor."
This got the attention of all seated around the conference table.
Hammond narrowed his eyes at her. "Do you have any proof of this?"
Peterson looked at Andros. "No, sir, that's why we need to go back. To find out if this Bridget is or not."
"Very well," Hammond said laying his hands on the table. "I'm going to give the go ahead on a mission back to P6X170, pending approval by the president. Dismissed." Hammond rose and walked out of the room.
"Well, that went well," Peterson said, getting up.
"I don't know about you," Andros said with a smile. "I'm going to get this war paint off me before I start hearing smurf jokes."
O'Neill and Carter started to laugh. Jackson looked at them with a puzzled expression and Teal'c just frowned.
The started to file out of the room and Jackson suddenly got it. "Smurfs, that was a cartoon with little blue guys."
Doctor Daniel Jackson reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of change. He started to sift through it pulling out the quarters. He quickly scanned the contents of the vending machine and slipped the change into the coin slot. A candy bar plunked to the bottom of the machine.
"I hope that isn't your supper," a voice said.
Jackson looked up and saw Daria Peterson standing there watching him. He nearly didn't recognize her for a moment. She was dressed in normal military fatigues that most of the SGC personal wore. Her long red hair was braided and coiled at the nap of her neck.
Jackson smiled sheepishly. "Well, actually, yes."
Peterson crossed her arms. "You know this place has a perfectly good commissary."
Jackson reached into the machine and pulled out his candy bar. "I know, but I usually like to know what I'm eating."
"I know what you mean," Peterson said with a laugh. She stuck her hand into her pocket pulling out some changed with a guilty smile. She put her money into the machine and a bag of pretzels clattered down. She reached in and pulled them out.
"So, you're skipping out on the amazing mystery meat too, huh?"
"Actually," she said. "I was looking of you, Dr. Jackson."
"Daniel," he said quickly. "You can call me, Daniel."
"Daria," Peterson said holding out her hand.
Jackson shook it. "What did you need?" he asked.
"I have a few questions I wanted to ask you about Ra."
Jackson sighed and nodded. "Ra, yeah."
Peterson studied him. "I read in the reports on the first Stargate mission. You actually got to talk to Ra?"
"Yes, I did," Jackson said tightly. "Not one of the most pleasant conversation I've ever had."
"What was he like?" she asked leaning against the counter in the small vending room.
Jackson walked over to the coffee maker and picked up a Styrofoam cup. "Like most Goa'ulds, I guess. Very egotistical, very manipulative, very," he searched for the right word. "evil. I think he really thought his was a god. The people of Abydos thought he was and he wasn't going to chance having a rebellion there like he did on Earth. He was willing to destroy them all."
"Absolute power," Peterson stated.
"Corrupts absolutely," Jackson finished. "Good description of Ra."
"Hmm," she said thinking.
Jackson turned to face her again and saw a glint of gold around her throat. "Nice necklace."
Peterson straightened. "Oh, this," she said, her hand going to her throat. "It was a gift from the Tuatha de Danann. Ban'te presented Andros and I as guest presents. They have a tradition of give gifts to guests as they leave. Andros and I had just gotten back to the gate when they must have opened it for the memorial service. Good thing to," she said with a smile. "I lost the transmitter sometime between when the warband jumped us and we finally convinced them we weren't Gou'alds." Suddenly, she yawned. "Oh my, sorry. What time is it?"
Jackson looked at his watch. "About 2000 hours or in *normal* time," he smiled. "10 PM."
Peterson yawned again. "Oh, sorry. I had best go try to get some sleep. We're scheduled to leave at about 0700 tomorrow."
Jackson nodded, "See you in the morning."
"In the morning, good night," she said over her shoulder as she walked out the door.
Jackson started to follow her and spotted the bag of pretzel on the counter. He picked them up and started to call to her, but stopped. 'Odd,' he thought. He gave the bag a shake. It felt as if pretzel inside had been ground to crumbs. He shrugged and tossed the unopened bag in the trash and left.
Doctor Daria Peterson stood outside the embarkation room sipping a cup of coffee. They had just gotten the final conformation from General Hammond and were due to leave in twenty minutes.
It had been all to easy. They had just to mention the temple and Bridget and Jackson's interest had been captured. 'And,' she thought, 'Once you have Jackson, the others aren't far behind.' Though the Jaffa, Teal'c, did offer a complication.
"Daria?"
She looked up to see Captain Mike Adams walking toward her. Adams, CO of SGC's security's Team Delta, and her brother, she reminded herself. She smiled.
"Hi, Mike."
"You sure you're ready for this?" he asked concern shining in his eyes. "I mean, you and Andros just got back yesterday."
She squeezed his arm. "Mike, you're a sweetie, but I'm fine. Better than fine. You can't imagine the opportunity of a life time this is. It's like these people are a living time capsule looking back on Celtic history. This makes those digs I was on in Gloster and Yorkshire look like," she hunted for the word. "Like trying to figure someone out by digging through their trash."
Adams smiled, "You can learn a lot digging through people's trash." He gave her a sly look. "Like, say, the fact you had a crush on Billy Thompson in the seventh grade."
She blushed. "How did you?" She glared at him. "You creep! That's how he found out!" She gave him a good natured punch in the arm.
Adams dodged away and laughed. Then he faced her, sobering. "You be careful, kay?"
Peterson smiled and nodded. "Always. You too. Watch out that some creepy crawly don't come through that gate and nab you."
Suddenly, she felt a sharp pain stab through the back of her neck and the torc suddenly felt warm against' her skin.
"Dar, you ok?"
She forced a smile on her face. "Yeah, fine. I have to go." She started to brush past him.
"Dar, wait," Adams said quickly. "You almost forgot." He pressed something into her hand. "I got you another one, since you had to use the last one."
She looked down to what was in her hand. It was a hand grenade. She looked back up at him.
His mouth quirked in a smile. "For luck."
"Yeah," she forced a smile. "For luck." She turned and left.
"Chevron four locked in place," the technicians voice echoed out the speakers of the embarkation room as the rings on the stargate spun.
Peterson nudged Andros and he nodded. "Colonel O'Neill, It might be best if Peterson and I were to go through first. The Tuatha de Danann know us."
"Sounds reasonable enough," O'Neill nodded.
"You would only need to give us a couple of minutes to let them know what's going on," Andros added.
"Chevron five locked in place."
"It's your call, Major," O'Neill watched and then looked away.
Andros smiled. Everything was going to work out just fine.
"Chevron six locked in place."
Just fine, indeed.
Chevron seven locked in place. Wormhole opening."
The wormhole blossomed in barely controlled wash of blue tinged energy.
Andros and Peterson approached the rippling surface of the event horizon and stepped throught it. A heart beat later they emerged on a grassy wind swept hilside.
"Ban'te, they have returned!"
Figures dressed in roughly woven garments dropped to their knees.
Peterson glared at them in disdain. "Rise. Tell the Mistress we bring those she seeks."
Ban'te motioned for on the warriors to go and the man leapt to his feet and rushed away.
"You bring the destroyers of the great Llew?" Ban'te asked coming to stand before her.
"Yes, they will arrive in moments as we did."
Andros turned to face the chieftain. "Choose your words well around these that come. Do you remember what we told you?"
Ban'te nodded. "The people know. We serve the Bridget well."
"It is well that you do," Peterson lowered her voice. "You would not wish to anger the Bridget."
"Aye, M'Lady. We would not. We serve her and her chosen well," the chief uttered softly.
Suddenly, four figures emerged from the gate and the wormhole winked out.
Peterson turned smiling brightly. "Colonel O'Neill, Doctor Jackson, I would like you to meet Ban'te. Ban'te is the clan chief of the Tuatha de Danann of the shores of Avalon."
"Ban'te," O'Neill said offering his hand.
The chieftain grasped his forearm and smiled, "Colonel O'Neill, Daria tells me you are the war chief of your clan."
O'Neill glanced at the anthropologist and she nodded encouragingly.
"I guess you could say that," O'Neill said hesitantly.
Ban'te smiled broadly. "The bard, Daria, has told us much about you and the great druid, Daniel Jackson."
"Druid?" Jackson glanced over at Peterson with questioning eyes.
"Yes," Peterson explained quickly. "But I told Ban'te that the magic has been lost to our people for many generations."
"Ah, yes," Jackson said nodding as he clasped Ban'te's arm.
"Now, if you will excuse me," Ban'te said with a slight bow. "I must see to my men." He turned and walked back to his men.
As soon as he was out of ear shot, O'Neill shot Peterson a glare nailling her to the spot. "Now what's all this about war chiefs and Druids?"
Peterson bit her lip for a moment. "That terminology came about when I was trying to explain to Ban'te who we were. I tried to use terms he could understand."
"Actually, your choices make a lot of sense," Jackson said thoughtfully. He realized O'Neill and Carter were staring at him. "Come one," he said. "Jack's the commanding officer here, their equivalent of a war chief, and the Druids were the scientist and teachers of he celts."
Cater nodded, but O'Neill still looked skeptical. he looked like he was going to say something, but decided not to when Ben'ta walked back up to them.
"If you would come with me, horses have been made ready. We should leave now if we wish to be at the village by night fall." Ban'te led them to woods at the edge of the clearing where they horses have been picketed. They mounted and followed Ban'te and his ben through the forest.
The ride to the village took most of the day. As they traveled, Ban'te told them about the other inhabitance of Tir Na Nog. There were a few indigenous species of fauna, a bit carnivorous brute that as something of a cross between a boor and bear, and bird that was more reptilian, then avian. But when they asked about more intelligent beings, Ban'te told them in no uncertain terms, that the Tuatha de Danann were the only reasoning creatures in all of Tir Na Nog.
Jackson tried to asked him some questions about Ra, but Ban'te refused to answer saying it was bad luck to speak the true name of the 'false' Llew. A silent warning from Peterson silenced any other questions Jackson would have asked. They rode on in silence until they reached the edge of the village.
Apparently, some of Ban'te's men had reached the village before them. That must have been the arrangement the Chieftain had spoken of earlier. Garlands of some native flower resembling for the all the world like heather from the Scottish moors decorated the village square. Young women clad in the same roughly woven garments as the warriors surrounded the SG teams as they dismounted. They hung necklaces of the crimson flowers around their necks.
Jackson no sooner had it around his neck then he started into such a sever sneezing fit he could hardly bet his breath. He discreetly tried to slip his off, but when he saw the crestfallen expression on the face of the young woman who had given it to him, he smiled and put it back on.
Ban'te lead them to a large rectangular building at the end of the a row of thatch and wattled huts. They ducked a bit to enter the buildings narrow doorway. Thick pungent smoke hung heave the building's single, vast room.
"A mead hall," Jackson said in a hushed voice and then he sneezed.
O'Neill gave him a concerned look, "You ok, Daniel?"
Jackson blew his nose and sniffed, "Yeah," he sneezed again. "I'm fine."
"Right," O'Neill snorted.
Jackson sneezed and blew his nose again. "It's just the flowers." Teal'c looked at him and cocked an eyebrow. Jackson sighed, "And the smoke," he ended with a sneeze.
Ban'te showed them to a low trestle table. Platters of wild game and fowl steamed in heaped piles. New loaves of bread glowed golden in the low fire light. Bowls of some dark colored liquid gleamed frothily.
The young doe eye girl who had given Jackson the garland earlier pushed one the bowls into his hands encouraging him to drink. Jackson smile politely and took a sip and nearly choked.
"Strong stuff?" O'Neill asked wryly.
Jackson coughed and whipped his mouth. "A bit."
O'Neill accepted one of the bowls and took drink and winced. "Real smooth," he said hoarsely.
Carter eyed him with an amused smiled and took a cautious sip. She managed to keep a straight face, but just barely.
Teal'c drank deeply from the bowl he was offered. He gave them all a questioning look and finished the bowl off.
O'Neill clapped him on the back and said quietly, "Let's go a little light on that stuff. Ok, big guy?"
"You need not worry Colonel O'Neill, the Goa'uld larva I carry within me prevents me from becoming intoxicated."
O'Neill raised his eyebrows and huffed. "Got to remember that."
They sat down at the table and Ban'te began to offer them food from the different platters. Jackson picked up a piece of the meat and Carter stared at him. He put it into his mouth and a smile spread across his face.
"What's it taste like, Daniel?"
O'Neill shot him a look. "Don't even think about it."
Jackson eyes sparkled merrily. "It tastes like chicken!"
O'Neill groaned and Carter and Teal'c exchanged a confused look.
O'Neill shook his head and turned to Peterson. She and Andros had been strangely quiet since they had entered the village. "Peterson, ask Ban'te about the Temple."
She nodded and walked over to Ban'te. The chieftain had gone over to talk to a few of his warriors. Peterson said something to him and the man nodded and motioned to one of the men to go for something. Then they started back towards SG-1.
"Ban'te has offered a guide to take us to the edge of Avalon. He says the way is clearly marked from there."
Ban'te nodded, but didn't say anything.
"We should be able to get there by early morning if we leave now," Peterson said turning as two men approached.
"I have brought him," the young man who Ban'te sent out earlier announced and then left.
An old man stood there staring at them in frank surprise. "You are the ones who wish to find the Temple of the 'false' Llew?"
"Yes," Jackson said getting to his feet.
"I will take you, but you must come now."
O'Neill narrowed his eyes. "Why now?"
The old man sighed wearily. "It is not safe to travel the forests of the Bridget by day. The Bean Sidhe hunt the forest for the unwary by day."
"Bean Sidhe?" Carter asked.
Jackson looked to Peterson. "Banshees," she said. "Ban'te has told me that some kind of winged creature lives in the forest and kills any livestock unfortunate enough to wander in there."
"Just how big are these, Beany things?" O'Neill asked.
Peterson bit her lip. "Big enough to carry off a full grown horse."
"That is quite large," Teal'c said solemnly.
"Ya, think?" O'Neill glared at him.
"Colonel, I suggest we leave right away, if you want to get to the temple anytime soon," Peterson said.
Jackson nodded. "Jack, this is a great opportunity." Then glanced at the old man. "And we do have a guide right here."
"Why do I have the feeling this is a really bad idea?" O'Neill said running a hand through his short sandy hair.