Drowning, by Sealie (PG-13)

[sg-fignewton.livejournal.com]

Rec Category: Gen

Pairing: None
Category: Gen, drama, action/adventure, hurt/comfort, team
Warning: language, violence, general team-whumping, temporary character death
Author on LJ: jimandblair
Author's Website: The Sibilant Storybook
Link: Drowning

Why This Must Be Read: This story pushes a lot of my "favorite" buttons: it's early season SG-1, the team all work well together, there's a well-crafted enemy with good usage of mythology… and, all right, I'll admit it: and Daniel gets whumped. :) To be fair, though, so does everyone else.

In Sealie's long, satisfying story, SG-1 gate to the seashore on what seems to be a pleasant enough planet… until they experience the first quake, and realize that the DHD is off-line. As SG-1 begins to explore, they discover the dangers lurking beneath the waves: a new type of Goa'uld, complete with alien bodyguards and their own version of Goa'uld technology – and, as Daniel worriedly realizes, a talent for adaptation, unlike the typical Goa'uld weakness that they've always been able to exploit. With Teal'c badly hurt in the initial confrontation, and poor Daniel literally allergic to the planet, SG-1 can't resist their initial capture; but no one can keep Jack O'Neill and the rest of his team down for very long!

Jack's voice is particularly engaging in this story, and much of the fic is told from either his or Daniel's POV. There's plenty of mutual whumping of both Goa'uld and human, including an introduction to the Celtic version of the sarcophagus:

"They have a sarcophagus, sir?"

"Actually no." Jack flung himself onto the gold, tasselled draped king sized bed that dominated the room. He bounced with a delighted sigh. "They've got a big vat filled with snot."

"Oh?" Daniel focussed on him. "Can you describe it?"

"Yeah, It's a big vat, filled with snot."

With meaty cameos from SG-3 and Janet, an intelligent solution to the "no DHD" in the pre-naquadah generator days, and a full-of-explosions climax, Drowning is a fic that the reader is sure to enjoy.

They sneaked along the gaudily decked corridors, ducking behind statues as slabby formorii passed. One of the tiny firbolg staggered by, laden down by a mess of laundry.

"Kree!" Jack stepped out from behind the statue.

The drone stopped dead, bleaching to a new level of terrified paleness, it dropped the laundry. Jack drew himself up as haughtily as any Goa'uld. It tried to speak but could only whimper.

"Take me to the Daughter of Cecht, kree." Jack shook his hand aimlessly in the firbolg's face. "Kree. Now!"

Eyes bugging, the firbolg left the clothes on the floor and scuttled, still bowing frantically, down the corridor.

"After it," Jack ordered. The poor little thing was so upset it could hardly walk straight.

"Do we even know if we're going to Daniel?" Carter asked sensibly.

"Have you got a better idea?" Jack picked up the pace to walk alongside the distraught firbolg. "You can stop bowing." The firbolg froze. The critter stared up at him with fried egg eyes. "I'm a progressive sort of Goa'uld," Jack said pithily. "Tell me about yourself. Those formi guys they treat you badly, don't they?"

The firbolg's mouth fell open in consternation. ::Lord?::

"Well... you serve the Goa'uld and the formi guys. One of you little dudes came into our cell before and he'd been smacked around." Jack leaned forwards. "You guys speak English?"

"English?" the being ventured.

"You can speak?"

It nodded frantically. "I can speak the tongue of the Altar of the Gods."

"Daniel first; take us to Cecht."

"Now?" it asked pathetically.

"Yes, now."

Almost wailing, the being darted away. The two members of the SG:1 team hurried to keep up. Faster than its legs indicated, it almost outpaced them. Jack couldn't help but think that time was of the essence. That glint in Cecht's eye hadn't boded well for their fellow team member.