The Road to Oz
a Stargate SG-1/Wizard of Oz AU
by Setcheti
Disclaimer: I don’t own Stargate, or the Wizard of Oz. This story is an unfinished WIP, placed in the Campfire Bunny Farm because I doubt I’ll ever actually write the rest of it. If someone else wants to adopt it, be my guest – just don’t forget where you got it, that’s all I ask.
Starting Premise: SG-1 goes through the Stargate and finds a lush, green landscape and what appears to be the remains of a road made out of yellow-gold bricks. A small sign hand-painted on weathered wood bears a cryptic warning, but before Daniel can work out the sign’s meaning Sam, followed by Jack and Teal’c, have already stepped onto the brick road and appear to have been transformed into a young girl, a Tin Man, and a manlike Lion, with no memory of who they actually are or what they’re doing there; they only know they must follow the Road. In order to stay with them Daniel eventually must step onto the road himself and is transformed into a Scarecrow, although by following the suggestion of a mysterious sorceress he manages to retain his own mind.
What Part is This?: This is the completed ending of the story.
Daniel looked down at himself, seeing straw poking through the jagged rents in the weathered burlap that had taken the place of his skin. He was suddenly very glad he was standing behind the others; if they saw him and remembered, they would never...he lifted unblinking painted blue eyes to the sorceress and nodded once, then gestured silently toward one of the winding stone corridors and began to slowly move in that direction as she raised her wand. Please, don’t let them see me, he thought desperately. If I can just get far enough away, it will be all over before they find me—and I’d spare them that if I could, but they won’t leave unless they know for sure. If I could only move faster! Damn noisy straw…
To his surprise, a sweet, sad voice answered his mental litany as he saw the magic begin to flow like a golden wind toward the four of them. Run, Scarecrow, it said to him alone. I will shield your retreat; for such a noble heart, this selfless wish I will gladly grant. Run! The magic will follow!
Daniel took to his heels and plunged into the escape route he had chosen, hearing his friends cry out as the magic reached them and the change began; he knew without needing to look that his own golden tendril followed behind him, waiting for the promised distance to be reached. Thank you, Glinda.
Jack woke up to pain; a deep, throbbing ache in his left upper thigh and lesser, nauseating ones in his head and stomach. Coming to terms with the fact that he could actually feel again, it took him a few moments to remember how it had happened and to match up his various aches and pains with hits he’d taken – and not really felt – when he’d been made of tin. He decided it was a lucky thing he hadn’t let anyone take him apart, as unbolting a tin arm wasn’t anywhere near the same thing as removing…
…And that was when he remembered the rest of it. Straw, scattered across the rocky ground. Winged monkey-monsters, long claws ripping….
No, it doesn’t hurt, Jack; it’s just…uncomfortable.
“Oh my god.” It came out as a whisper, horrified and shuddering, a voice he barely recognized as his own. “Oh god, Daniel…”
Jack was out of bed almost before he realized he’d moved, forgetting his bruises and ignoring the trembling weakness that seemed to spread from his stomach down through his legs. Sam Carter was there and caught his arm. “Colonel, I don’t think you should…”
“I have to see him.” He didn’t miss the glance she shot at Teal’c standing nearby, and he turned his own pleading gaze in the unmoving Jaffa’s direction as well. “Teal’c, I need to see Daniel.”
“I know, O’Neill. However, you should be prepared. Daniel Jackson’s appearance is,” an indefinable flicker of emotion rippled through the dark eyes, “unpleasant.” Seeing Jack’s acceptance, Teal’c moved to support him with an arm around his waist and began leading him from the room. “It is this way.”
Daniel’s room was at the opposite end of the long corridor from Jack’s; the reason for the separation became obvious when he got his first look at the still figure lying in the bed. Jack froze. “Tell me he’s not conscious.”
“Not since yesterday,” Sam said softly, pulling up a seat for him beside the low bed. “I wish I could say it’s not as bad as it looks…but actually, it’s worse.”
Jack didn’t have a response. His eyes were glued to the heavy, blood-soaked bandages that covered the young archaeologist’s chest and abdomen. Curved claws, ripping down out of the sky… He shuddered hard, pushing away the memory. “Why are his eyes bandaged?”
Carter blanched, but Teal’c came to her rescue. “The Scarecrow’s eyes were painted on, O’Neill.”
At first it didn’t register. “Yeah, I know they were painted; mine were made of tin. So?”
“You had tin eyelids, too.” Sam swallowed convulsively. “Painted eyes can’t blink, sir,” she whispered. “We’ve been keeping the bandages wet so he’ll be more comfortable, but Daniel’s eyes are…beyond repair, almost completely desiccated. When we first found him…” she choked on tears. “When we first found him and brought him here, we…we had to tie his hands down to keep him from clawing at them. The itching was d-driving him mad.”
“What did Glinda say?”
Sam looked away. “We have not seen her since the transformations were reversed,” Teal’c told him.
“Oh really?” Jack’s jaw set – which hurt, but he ignored it. “Well isn’t that just peachy. Play games with innocent visitors to your planet, then run away from the aftermath.”
There was a shimmer, snow falling off an invisible branch to form the sorceress. “You had only to call me.”
Jack waved an angry hand at Daniel. “Why? He hadn’t done anything to you, or your people, or your planet. And he only jumped on your Road so he could rescue the rest of us who were too careless,” he pointed at Sam, “too fast,” he pointed at Teal’c, “and too stupid,” he slapped his own chest, winced, “to heed the warning you put up. Daniel is the one who tried to stop the rest of us. He deserves to die for that?”
She shook her head. “He is the noblest heart to come through our world in many, many years. Would that he were one of my people…but he is not.”
“That’s what I was afraid of.” Jack had figured out how this planet worked, how this sorceress worked – or rather, Daniel had, but Jack hadn’t paid attention to the ramifications until it was too late. Everything here was about balance and return. “So since he’s not one of your people…what do we have to do for you, or your people, so that you won’t just let him die?”
Behind him, Sam gasped. Glinda’s lovely face flooded with compassion. “There is a way, but it is a path you would not choose.”
Jack had expected that. “You might be surprised. Tell us about this path.”
The sorceress shook her head. “There is a magic by which I could repair his injuries, very near to the magic which effected your transformations in the first place. But the cost is high…” The look on the three faces made her sigh. “All right, I will tell you. I can restore your friend, but if I did so you would not be able to leave this place. As with the choice you faced before, either all must stay or all must go—but the healing will only be effective if you remain in this world. My magic will not pass its borders.”
Jack’s expression didn’t change. “And?”
“That is all. As I said, the price is high…too high for most.”
“Have any remained?” Teal’c wanted to know. “Have any agreed to your price?”
She shook her head again. “Some few sought to deceive me, thinking to leave at a later time.”
Jack said again, “And?”
“The healing will only be effective if you remain in this world. My magic will not pass its borders.”
Jack sighed, then straightened. He looked at Sam and Teal’c without expression; he very pointedly did not look at Daniel. “I can’t order you. I’m willing to do it, but if either one of you doesn’t want to, we’ll go home right now and not another word will be said about it—ever. Like the lady said, all or none.”
Sam did look at Daniel, then back to the waiting sorceress. “Will we be able to keep our own bodies, our own minds?”
“Certainly. Once you become a part of this world, the Road will no longer be a threat to you in that manner.”
“And choosing to remain will make us a part of this world?” Teal’c clarified. “There is nothing else we must do?”
“No, that is all.” An amused smile. “Is that not enough?”
Teal’c turned back to Jack and folded his arms. “I will stay, if Major Carter is willing as well.”
Sam nodded. “I’m in.” Jack gave her a questioning look, and she smiled. “Sir, every time we go through the ‘Gate we risk getting stranded on an alien planet. The way I see it, this is a long way from our worst-case scenario.”
O’Neill actually smiled back, visibly relaxing. “Let’s do it.” He looked up at the sorceress and waved his hand toward Daniel. “Okay, we’re staying. Now fix him.”
Glinda’s smile brightened and so did the light that surrounded her. “Very well.” She waved her star-tipped wand toward the bed; a fountain of soft golden light poured out of it and enveloped Daniel, then sank into him. The light shone out from underneath the bandages for a few moments and then slowly faded away. “It is done,” she said, sounding slightly tired. “He will need gentle care for a time to regain his strength, but otherwise all has been repaired.”
Jack nodded. “Thank you.”
She was already disappearing, fading like the golden light. “You are most welcome, Jack O’Neill.”
Jack didn’t waste any time; pushing past Carter and Teal’c, he started pulling off bandages and throwing them on the floor. The golden skin underneath was smooth and unmarked. He saved the eye bandage for last. Pulling the damp fabric slowly away from his friend’s face, he let out the breath he’d been holding when he saw the long golden-brown lashes flutter and then still, revealing a brief glimpse of liquid blue iris. Laying a hand against Daniel’s cheek, he felt tears come into his eyes when the younger man turned slightly into his touch with a drowsy sigh. “Daniel?” he whispered softly. “Hey, Dannyboy, wake up.”
“J’ck?” The eyelashes fluttered again, and two bright blue eyes blinked sleepily at him. “Wh’t?”
“Oh, nothing much.” Jack’s grin got the better of him. “How ya feelin?”
The eyes closed again. “Tired.”
“Then you should rest, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c intoned. “We will talk more when you wake again.”
A small smile. “’Kay, Teal’c.” And then Daniel was asleep again.
Jack ruffled the golden-brown hair gently and then stood up, stretching. “Well, campers,” he said. “I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Why don’t we go see if those little guys are still willing to cook for us, huh?”
******
The soldiers stood all in a clump in the antechamber, nervously awaiting their audience with the emperor. They’d been waiting for quite a while now; apparently the emperor was busy. Or something.
A man in robes with a large book under his arm came bustling into the room just about the same time Major Wallace was proposing that they just go on in and wait for the emperor in the throne room. “I don’t advise that,” the man said pleasantly, startling all four of them. He looked to be a human in his mid thirties, just a little shorter than the major, and his longish golden brown hair was pulled back with a cloth tie at the nape of his neck. “He’s a little fussy about the throne room, it wouldn’t be a good idea for you to be found wandering around in there. Sorry you’ve been kept waiting like this, though – we haven’t had visitors from off-world in years, it was a bit of a shock and we weren’t really prepared for it. Come with me, I’ve asked the servants to set out some refreshments for you in a more comfortable room.”
He led them out of the antechamber by a small door and down a jewel-encrusted marble corridor into a room plentifully supplied with comfortable chairs upholstered in emerald velvet. Several of the small green-clad people the exploration team had already seen were just bringing in trays of pastries, fruit and cheeses as well as silver decanters and goblets. “Oh very good, thank you all,” the man told the little people. “Please let us know when the emperor is ready to see our visitors, if you would.”
“Of course, Professor,” replied the little man who appeared to be in charge, if the gold epaulettes on his green velvet jacket were any indication. He bowed. “You will be notified. Do you wish some of us to stay? The Royal Guard will be…”
“Very displeased if I risk myself, yes I know,” the professor finished for him with a sigh. “I don’t think I’m in any danger, Willem, but you can leave a few people outside the door if you like.” The small man cocked an eyebrow at him, and the professor sighed again. “All right, and two inside, if you must.”
Willem bowed again. “Very good, sir.” He quickly organized his people and two of them took up a watchful stance on either side of the door while the others filed through it – not without several suspicious looks being cast back at the soldiers.
The professor shrugged an apology at his guests and waved them toward the chairs. “Sorry about that, but I don’t want to get them into trouble with the Guard – or myself either, for that matter. Just help yourselves to whatever you like, the emperor might be a while yet.”
Major Wallace nodded to his team and perched himself on the edge of a chair, fighting the urge to sink into the thick cushion. “The…servants called you Professor, are you a historian or a scientist or something?”
“All three and quite a bit more,” the professor told him, settling into a chair of his own and pouring himself a goblet full of pale golden liquid. “You should try this, it’s very good – and don’t worry, it’s not alcoholic. Congratulations on reaching the palace, by the way, the Road can be…problematic if you don’t mind the warnings.”
“We noticed those,” Captain Simpson spoke up. “Kind of hard not to, actually.”
The professor nodded. “Well, that is the idea. The Road is there to protect us, but it’s not like we want people to get hurt. Giving fair warning seemed like a good compromise – those who are up to no good never heed the warnings, they always disobey thinking it will give them an advantage. It definitely doesn’t.”
Wallace and Simpson shared a look. “Um, if you don’t mind my asking,” Simpson ventured. “What exactly does happen if you…”
“That depends,” the other man answered evenly, “on who breaks the rule and why. And how the Emperor feels about it, of course. We have a good ruler right now, but things can get pretty ugly if the throne is held by the wrong person.” He cocked a knowing eyebrow. “Of course, they can get pretty ugly even if it isn’t, if the situation warrants it.”
Wallace stiffened at the implied threat. “We’re just explorers, Professor…I don’t suppose you have another name, do you?”
“Yes, I do,” the professor replied, taking another drink from his goblet. He didn’t supply the name, though. “Just explorers, hmm? Have you seen many interesting things?”
“We’ve been to many…uh, worlds, sir.” The lieutenant with them spoke up for the first time. “I’d have to say yours is the prettiest I’ve ever seen, though.”
The professor smiled at her. “I think so too,” he agreed. “Of course, there are some parts not nearly as nice as the Winkie country you walked through to get here – or as the Emerald City itself, of course. But I’d have to say…”
The doors opened again before he could say it, and a woman swept in. Her long blonde hair was plaited elaborately with strings of pearls and sapphires and she was wearing a dress the same sparkling blue as her eyes and embroidered with the same jewels. “He’s back,” she told the professor, who had risen half out of his seat when she entered. To the Stargate team’s surprise she then sat down in a chair of her own and reached for an empty goblet, which the other man immediately filled for her. After the first sip she turned her attention to the soldiers and smiled. “Hi. Sorry you had to wait so long, we weren’t expecting visitors. The Emperor chose today to go to the Gnome Kingdom. Did you have a nice walk?”
Wallace stared. He could have sworn he knew this woman from someplace – and now that he thought about it, the professor looked a little familiar too. But maybe that was just because they were the only full-sized adults he’d seen since they’d come through the Gate. He nodded and took another cautious sip from his own goblet. “You have a lovely world, I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything quite like it before.” Outside of a storybook, that was. He wondered if these people had fairy tales? Pity they didn’t bring cultural experts with them offworld any more, one might come in handy right about now. “It seems very peaceful here.”
Her smile widened. “Usually it is, but we do have our share of problems just like anyone else. What is your world like?”
“Very…industrialized, although we have farmland and wild areas too,” Wallace answered carefully. “Do you have any larger urban areas than this?”
“Um, no. This is the largest city here,” the professor told him, shrugging. “Actually, it’s the only city here, no one’s ever seen the need to build another one.”
“Oh.” Wallace was starting to feel more and more unsure about this situation. “So your culture is mostly…”
“Agrarian,” the professor supplied. “Our main museum has a very nice display of farming implements from over the years. The Gillikins’ plow designs in particular…”
“Professor,” the woman chided him gently, smiling when he blinked at her. “You were about to break into lecture mode.”
He smiled back, something just slightly warmer than pure friendliness passing between them and bringing a flush of color to his cheeks that he quickly cooled off with another sip from his goblet. “Oh, yes. Sorry about that, Princess.” He slanted another look over at her from under his eyelashes. “But the plow designs are spectacular, you know.”
“Oh yes, I know.” It was a private joke, Wallace realized. And the woman was a princess? The emperor’s daughter, he guessed, or something close to it. And this professor must not be anything low on the local totem pole either if he was flirting with her like that right here in the palace. He wished again for an anthropologist, an archaeologist, anything; he was way out of his depth here and not liking it much at all. The drink was good, though.
It was nearly an hour before Willem returned for them, an hour in which Wallace and his team asked carefully probing questions which were answered easily and with good humor but without actually giving them any information that was of value – or any information, in fact, that they couldn’t have gotten on their own. The major was experienced enough to realize the Professor and the Princess were doing it on purpose, and luckily also experienced enough not to let it make him too angry. These people obviously knew about the Stargate, and what it was for. He couldn’t really blame them for not trusting a group of armed offworlders who came wandering up to their palace.
The part he was having a problem with…was why they’d invite that same group of offworlders into that palace and let them keep their weapons. That part just didn’t make sense.
Wallace was still puzzling over it when the little man in green and gold returned, bowing himself into the room. “The Emperor has returned from his visit to the Gnome Kingdom,” he announced. “He awaits you in his throne room.”
The Princess immediately stood up; the Professor and the soldiers hastily stood as well, but she was already passing Willem in a swirl of blue silk, calling back over her shoulder, “I’ll go see what kind of mood he’s in.”
“Dealing with the Gnome King usually puts him in a foul mood, it’s fine.” the Professor warned Wallace and his people with a small smile. “But be careful how you talk to him all the same.” He led them to the door, and then they all followed Willem back out to the imposing throne room doors and then through them into the most magnificent room the major had ever seen. He didn’t have much time to take it all in, however, because the Professor was already addressing the man sitting on the opulent emerald-encrusted throne, currently tapping a silver and emerald scepter impatiently against his knee. “Your Highness, these explorers have come through the Stargate and arrived safely at the Emerald City to ask for an audience with you.”
“Yeah, I just bet they have,” the Emperor said crossly. He was a handsome middle-aged man with short silvering hair and sharp brown eyes and a strong, capable look to him. A man of action, Wallace decided, and not someone to mess around with. “So you four are from Earth?”
The major nodded; the servants must have filled their Emperor in once he’d returned, or the Princess currently standing off to one side of the throne had. “We’re representatives of Earth, yes. I’m Major Wallace; this is Davis, Martin, and Alvarez. We’re part of an organization that’s been exploring other worlds through the Stargate in hopes of finding allies against…”
“The snakes?” the Emperor interrupted him. “Well, they don’t come here. And before you ask, we don’t have any naquadah, naquadria, or anything else you can use. And we don’t encourage offworld touristry either.”
Wallace wasn’t giving up that easily. “Maybe there’s something we can do for you, then. We have technology…”
“Which we have absolutely no use for, unless you want to open up a museum of useless curiosities.” The emperor shot a warning look at the Professor. “Don’t even think about it, the two you already have are plenty.”
The Professor, surprisingly, seemed to be hiding a small smile as he dipped his head in acknowledgement. And that was when a bejeweled golden door at the rear of the chamber opened and a very large man stepped out and came to stand just beside the throne. He was bare to the waist, dark skin taut over bulging muscles, and below the waist he was clad in flowing pants, boots, and an intricately worked belt of gold set with emeralds from which depended in front and back two protective sets of linked gold plates. Wide gauntlets that matched the belt wrapped his wrists, and on his forehead shone a round golden symbol that appeared to be embedded in his skin.
It was something the Stargate team had seen before, and they stiffened, ready for trouble. “Emperor,” Wallace said, a definite edge to his voice. “I thought you said the Gou’ald didn’t come here?”
“They don’t.” The Emperor shrugged. “They don’t much care for our way of dealing with snakes.”
Wallace signaled his team and they immediately fell into a defensive stance, guns coming up at the ready. “Then just where did you get that?” the major demanded, pointing to the dark-skinned man. “That is a servant of the Gou’ald, a Jaffa First Prime!”
“No, he’s not.” The Emperor seemed to be annoyed rather than angry, and he ignored the guns entirely. “I mean, you can see he’s not – no pouch for the baby snake. This is the Royal Guard, see the symbol on his forehead?”
Wallace squinted; sure enough, the gold tattoo on the giant’s forehead bore the same stylized letters the emperor’s scepter did. And the bare flesh on the Royal Guard’s abdomen was smooth, intact. The major didn’t tell his people to stand down, though. “How do I know you’re not Gou’ald?”
“Probably because you’re, oh, still alive?” The Emperor rolled his eyes and said something in a low voice to the giant, who was looking vaguely amused by the whole thing. “Use your head, Major. If I was a snake, you’d be rotting in the woods right now instead of cluttering up my palace.”
“Is that what happened to our first team? We lost four good people here!” Wallace snapped. “Our best team came through the Gate at this address six years ago and we never heard from them again!”
The Emperor, surprisingly, threw himself back in his throne with a snort. It was the Professor who spoke. “We do have up signs,” he said. “But – six years ago? There was only one sign then, a very small, cryptic one painted on wood, and in some places the Road was overgrown, very difficult to avoid. And of course, there was no Emperor in the Emerald City then either.”
“And that does make a difference,” the Princess said gravely, although she gave the glowering man on the throne a sweet smile that made him harrumph. “You just don’t understand the rules of our world.”
“The Road is…treacherous,” the Guard rumbled, startling SG-6 exceedingly. “Surely you have traveled to dangerous worlds before, Major? And if you were missing some of your own, how is it that you have not looked for them until the present time?”
“Now there’s a good question,” the Emperor thrust in while Wallace was still trying to think of something to say. “Good one, big guy.”
“We wanted to, but our allies told us not to,” Captain Simpson blurted out. Wallace glared at him and Simpson shrugged helplessly. “But Major, we don’t want them to think we leave our people behind. Our allies, the Tok’ra,” he addressed the Emperor again. “They told us our people were lost and that we’d lose whoever we sent after them.”
“But here you are,” the Emperor pointed out.
“The Tok’ra…aren’t our allies any more.” Wallace made a mental note to put a reprimand in Simpson’s file when they made it back. If they made it back. “They lied to us, about a lot of things, and they got a lot of our people killed. We have to go back through every piece of information they gave us now to see what is and isn’t true.” He decided that was as good an opening as any to signal his team to lower their weapons – not that anyone in the room had looked the least bit dismayed by them anyway. Maybe they didn’t understand what they were? He guessed it was possible, even if they did know about the Stargate and other worlds. “Is there any way we could find out if our people were here and fell afoul of your…Road?”
“Yes, there is.” The Emperor stood up, one hand on the elaborately bejeweled belt around his waist. “I can show you what happened to your people, but then you have to leave. And you have to tell your superiors that this world is off-limits to you, forever.” He raised his free hand when Wallace started to object. “Like the Princess said, Major, you don’t understand the rules of our world. And I don’t want to be responsible for you finding that out the hard way. Now let’s go see what you wanted to see and then I’ll personally escort you and your team back to the Gate so you can go home.”
There was a blink, and Wallace found himself standing in another room with the Emperor beside him. “Wha…”
“What you wanted to see,” the other man told him, waving his free hand in front of them. “Take a good look, as long as you like. The Professor and his helpers worked really hard on this display.”
“Display?” There was a glass case in front of them, its wooden frame inlaid with jewels and gold. Behind the glass stood four uniforms – SGC uniforms, and all the kit that went with them, including the guns. The uniforms were dirty, torn… “What happened to the people?”
“Take a look at that last one,” the Emperor said. “The Winkies mended it, but you can still see what happened.”
Wallace looked, noticing only then that the stains on the last uniform – the uniform that said “JACKSON” on its breast patch – were blood. He got right up to the glass; the tiny seams from the mending were visible to him now, and he realized with horror that the front of the uniform must have been practically slashed to pieces at some point. The man wearing it… “Do you know what happened, Emperor?”
“Yes.” The older man sighed. “He sacrificed himself to save his friends – a couple of times over, actually. Then they did the same for him, to end his suffering.”
The way he said it… “You were there?”
“I was. I wasn’t the emperor then, so there was nothing I could do.” The emperor pushed one of the jewels on the frame, and a polished wooden box beside the last uniform opened up like a flower. Inside were bloodstained bandages, including one that looked like it might have been an eye bandage, their neat folds atop their bed of straw somehow making them all the more gruesome. “These were the last bandages he needed. I kept them as a reminder.”
“I see.” It was all Wallace could do not to shudder. This, then, was what had happened to the legendary SG-1. “They were our best team, probably the best team we’ll ever have – without them our world would have been destroyed several times over,” he explained. “It’s good to see them honored like this, they deserved it. May I…” He hesitated, but the look on the Emperor’s face gave him the courage to continue. “May I take a picture of this,” he waved his hand at the display, “so I can show the people back home?”
“Be my guest.” Wallace quickly pulled out his digital camera and took several pictures, including one close up of Jackson’s uniform and the bandages. “And what are your people going to do?”
Wallace put the camera back in his pocket. “I’ll tell them this world is off-limits, too dangerous for even the Gou’ald to visit,” he told the other man. “Once they see these pictures they’ll believe me.”
“I don’t doubt that,” the Emperor replied gravely. “But I may take some precautions on this side as well, just for the next decade or so.” Another blink, and they were back in the throne room just where they had been, startling the rest of SG-6 considerably. “As a matter of fact, tell them I’m having the disconnected as soon as you’re out of here. I can’t be everywhere at once, and we don’t want another…incident.”
The major nodded slowly. “No, we don’t,” he agreed, and turned a grave face to the wide-eyed Davis. “We’re done here, Captain. And the Emperor has graciously offered us a lift back to the ‘Gate, to make sure we get home safely.”
“But sir, shouldn’t we…”
“This planet isn’t safe,” Wallace cut him off. “Our orders were to find out what happened here, and I have. We’re not going to take a chance on it happening to us.”
“Wise choice,” the Emperor said, nodding…and SG-6 disappeared. He dropped back into his throne and waved his hand; a picture appeared in the air, and he, the Princess and the Professor watched the Major and his men dial the ‘Gate and then walk through it into the resulting wormhole. Another wave, and the ring of stone that was capable of connecting the planet to the rest of the universe became a flat-faced stone obelisk. The Emperor snorted and the picture vanished. “Hmmph, I should have done that years ago. So, did you two have fun entertaining our guests?”
The Professor rolled his eyes. “Watching them try to figure out what we were up to, you mean?”
“Yes, we did,” the Princess finished for him with a grin. “How did it go with the Gnome King?”
The Emperor snorted again, but he was smiling. “He cheated, I still won – he’ll be pissed off for a while. Hell of a good poker game, though.”
Back on Earth, Major Wallace’s report had mostly put an end to speculation about the planet designated PS-1429 – and the photographs he’d taken had put an end to speculation that SG-1 might still be alive. And the one last loose end he’d taken care of by approaching the retired general who’d been the legendary team’s commanding officer after the funeral and offering him a stiff envelope marked simply “OZ”. “It’s what was on the Emperor’s scepter,” he’d explained to the man’s raised eyebrow with a shrug. “I thought it fit better than the designation we gave the planet. But I thought you deserved to see how SG-1 was honored for yourself, General.”
George Hammond had thanked him, politely taken his leave of the funeral party and then headed back home. Only once he was indoors and alone – and away from any windows that a camera or satellite might spy through – did he open the envelope and slide its contents out into his hand. The photos were crisp and clear, showing the very nice museum-quality display that was all that remained of SG-1…or was it? Something about one of the photographs bothered him for some reason. George spent a long time looking at the picture, figuring out what that something was, and once he had he took the photograph into his grandson’s room and scanned it into the computer. A little blowing up here, a little tweaking there, and what he’d thought he’d seen became very clear. Reflected in the protecting glass was the faint image of a middle-aged man, Wallace’s Emperor of Oz. A man General George Hammond would have known anywhere…a man who apparently, for whatever reason, wanted to stay dead. He guessed it had something to do with Jackson, and maybe Carter and Teal’c as well. It didn’t matter, though. If Jack O’Neill wanted to stay where he was, George wasn’t going to do anything to mess it up for him. He got a beer out of the refrigerator, then thought better of it and got some scotch instead, and he raised a glass to SG-1. Who weren’t in Kansas any more.