Holding My Breath
Part 4
Chapter 10
Summit - Daniel Serves/Extended Scene
Jacob motioned for Daniel to take his position at the end of a long curtain that divided Yu's private chambers from a small kitchen area. His left shoulder brushing against the plush red fabric, Daniel crouched and extended the zat towards his target—the unprotected back of Yu's lo'taur, Jarren. The trip from the ring-room had been uneventful—uneventful but nerve wracking. Jacob was playing his role as a minor Goa'uld toadying up to the great System Lord Yu to the hilt, and his Selmac voice and casual cruelty made the hair on the back of Daniel's neck stand up. Explaining Daniel away to the Jaffa guards stationed outside the ring room as a humorous offering to the System Lord, Jacob's light cuff to the back of his head had sent Daniel sprawling, and he'd barely retained his hold on his slave role in time to drop his head and act submissive when the Jaffa laughed and prodded him playfully. Following Jacob down the maze-like hallways, his eyes fixed firmly to the hem of the Tok'ra's ornate robe, Daniel concentrated on the last minute instructions Jacob had given him just before they'd ringed to the surface. Don't sleep. Make yourself useful. Stimulants every ten hours. And a little blue pill when it all comes crashing down around his head as it tends to do all too often. Got it.
Jacob stepped out into the room, glancing back at Daniel quickly before addressing the slave. "Jarren."
"My lord does not wish to be disturbed at this time," the slave didn't turn, but finished pouring steaming water into a small, dark teapot, and part of Daniel's mind wondered if the chemical in the ring would change Yu's perception of his voice as well as his physical appearance. The other part of his brain was too busy squeezing off a shot that enveloped Jarren in a cocoon of blue sparks just as the slave placed the teapot back on the open flame. Daniel rose to his feet in one movement and hurried around the fallen slave as Jacob grasped the man firmly by the arms and began dragging him towards a storage room down the hall. Jacob hadn't gone into many details in his explanation of how he'd keep Yu's forces from finding out that his lo'taur hadn't accompanied his Master on this trip to the summit after all, and Daniel didn't ask too many questions—he'd received enough information lately concerning things he'd rather not know.
Daniel couldn't help staring at the slave's unconscious face. The slight Asian cast to his features made sense if Lord Yu had taken his original slave population from the ancestors of what were now the Chinese and Japanese peoples—the wide facial structure and folded eyelids were prominent attributes of the race. The slave's hair was just as short as Daniel's, but the facial hair was a bit of a surprise—plus the fact that the guy was shorter but had about 20 pounds on Daniel. Just how good was this Reol chemical anyway?
"You know I don't look a thing like this guy," he observed nervously.
"Well, luckily for this to work you don't have to," Jacob reminded him. He looked up from his stooped position over the slave into Daniel's eyes. "You'll be fine," Jacob insisted calmly, and watched as Daniel mentally braced himself. "Just remember to pour from the right." That earned him the desperate flash of a smile before Daniel turned away to hide the zat in a nearby cabinet.
Daniel turned his back on Jacob, the slave, and his own existence as anything but the trusted lo'taur of the oldest System Lord and picked up the tea tray, moving swiftly into the adjoining lounge area where Yu always had tea at this time of the afternoon. Jacob's intel told him that Yu and Jarren would be leaving for the summit in less than an hour—that their tel'tac was prepped and ready for them and they'd fly through the night to arrive at the summit the following morning. Being alone with Yu gave Daniel a much better chance of pulling off this impersonation, <unless you factored in the part about being alone with Yu,> he added to himself wryly. Daniel knew he had no more time to prepare—Yu would awaken shortly—and he tried to submerge his mind in Goa'uld, sifting all of his thoughts through the filter of the alien culture and language as he'd done on so many off-world meet-n-greets. The quickest way to make a mistake was to translate; Daniel had to switch off every language but Goa'uld, every cultural imperative but his slave status, every knee-jerk reaction to outside stimuli except that which would be appropriate to his station. This was true anthropology, becoming a member of your subject culture rather than an outside observer. He'd done it before, he reminded himself, of course, not with the weight of current expectations hanging over him or at such personal risk, but he had to allow those concerns to fall away. There was only now and there was only here. He could do this.
His quick footsteps took him into the center of the lounge and he glanced around for a place to put the tray. A long, low table swept down the center of the room, flanked by plush red chaises with heavy rolled arms for lounging. The table itself was burnished to a high shine that reflected the flickering lights of the flames that burned fiercely in scattered braziers, and the wall screens effectively gave the room an aura of privacy from prying eyes. He noticed the high counter set at the near end and Daniel set the tray down, reviewing the intricacies of the tea service as Jacob had explained it—not quite the full tea ceremony of the ancient Orient, but still a ritual that required precise timing and movement. Daniel frowned, mentally rehearsing the proper steps and making sure of the placement of the items on the tray when he caught the sound of footfalls behind him. He stiffened, a burst of rage consuming all of his well-placed arguments about cultural submersion and mission objectives. Suddenly all he could see was Sha're's dead face.
He'd been lying to himself. This wasn't just another alien culture; this was a Goa'uld, the closest thing to pure evil that he'd ever known. This was the oldest living System Lord—not Apophis, not the one who'd stolen his wife from him forever, not the one who'd brainwashed Teal'c's son to use against him or tortured Sam in Netu, but the next worst thing. How could he possibly act the submissive loyal servant to one of these snakes long enough to win his trust, and, god, why should he even try?
"Kel shak, Jarren?" Yu's distorted voice held a greeting and a question. Daniel fought the urge to launch himself at this... thing... and wrap his hands around its throat. He frowned, searching for strength, for focus on this greater duty that he'd been thrust into. His enemy was here, right here, why wasn't he moving, striking, instead of standing here, muscles locked into immobility? A wash of futility settled over him like a cloak. Maybe Jack was right. He shouldn't have been trusted with something like this when he couldn't even make himself reach out and take the life of one of these things alone and unguarded. 'That's not the plan, Daniel; get your head out of your ass.' Jack's command voice cut through his churning emotions and snapped his eyes wide, as effectively derailing his despair as if the man were standing there, a familiar snide, superior look on his face. Daniel looked down and turned the ring so that the point faced his palm, waiting, thoughts firmly locked onto one goal—getting the needle point of his ring into Yu's skin before he called his Jaffa. No matter what happened next, or didn't happen, he was standing here in Yu's stronghold holding a weapon that could either cripple the Goa'uld forever or, if it fell into the Goa'uld's hands, kill off the remaining Tok'ra just as easily.
"Aric kree, Onac!" Angry now, Yu's demand could be loosely translated as, who the hell are you? Still Daniel waited, working to shore up his mental defenses and draw a mask of servility over his features, hoping the System Lord would be too incensed by the thought of a mere slave defiantly showing him his back to call for help. The fingers that suddenly clenched around Daniel's left shoulder so tightly that they bruised the bones told him that he'd been right to wait. He spun and grasped Yu's wrist with his right hand, the point of the ring jabbing deeply into the host's flesh. It was now or never. The fury on Yu's face dissolved into confusion and Daniel felt a brief surge of victory over the smug, overbearing alien. The System Lord searched Daniel's face and then let his eyes roam up and down his figure.
"Nis trah Jarren," Daniel forced his voice to softness, knowing that, no matter his Master's questions or behavior, his lo'taur would immediately react with respect and deference. Okay, Jack, I'll play this role, I'll be Yu's slave and shred my own dignity and soul for your mission. But don't expect to recognize the person who comes back. He dropped to his knees and bowed his head, repeating the Goa'uld phrase. "I am your loyal servant Jarren." Not stubborn Dr. Daniel Jackson, not Sha're's vengeful husband, certainly not a valued member of SG-1—Daniel firmly convinced himself as well as his Goa'uld Master.
Yu unclenched his fingers and withdrew his hand, his face returning to its customary haughty expression as he gazed down on the bowed head of his slave. "Rise." His eyes never left the calm features of the lo'taur as Daniel stood quietly under his scrutiny. After a moment Yu turned and stepped away and Daniel felt his tight muscles relax just a bit, knowing that the act of showing 'Jarren' his back displayed Yu's complete belief that the slave was neither a threat nor worthy of his respect. Jarren knew his place. The System Lord clasped his hands behind his back and shifted once again to watch his lo'taur. "I will have my tea."
Daniel quickly picked up the tray, every inch Yu's personal slave eager to please his Master, and followed the Goa'uld to the low table. He felt Yu's stare and knew that it never wavered as he knelt beside the comfortably seated Goa'uld and began the ritual of the tea service. He bowed, forehead touching the floor briefly before setting the cup before his Master and, pouring slowly so that the aroma of the tea would fill the room, he did not even flinch when Yu drew the back of his knuckles down the sensitive skin inside Daniel's forearm in a caress.
"Is all prepared for the journey?" the Goa'uld asked, drawing Daniel's eyes away from their focus on the table setting to flick to his face.
"Yes, my lord," Daniel ducked his head quickly, hoping that Jacob's information was right and that it was true. If the real Jarren hadn't already finished his preparations in the tel'tac, Yu would likely begin smelling a rat before the journey began. That would be bad. He placed the teapot back on the tray and concentrated on arranging the dish of bite sized savories next to his Master's cup at the proper distance and angle.
Yu dropped his hand to stroke Daniel's thigh once before reaching for his cup. "This pleases me."
Daniel breathed slowly, in and out, keeping his face carefully blank while denying his body the immediate shudder of revulsion it so craved at the intimate contact. Jarren expected, even welcomed, this but, inside, Daniel cursed and leaped on a way to divert Yu's attention. He hesitated for a second, head still bowed at Yu's side before he looked up. "Do you have any final instructions, my lord?"
Yu picked up a morsel from the plate and turned to meet Daniel's eyes. "You have eaten?"
His mind spun, quickly sorting through every book he'd ever read about ancient oriental culture. Slaves did not eat with their masters unless ordered to do so, and the implication of the question seemed to be that Jarren would have taken care of his own needs before his Master awoke so that his every attention could be focused on his service. Daniel risked a nod.
"Very good," Yu replied, holding Daniel's gaze while he placed the tiny dried cake into his mouth and chewed slowly. "I find myself eager to begin this journey to meet with my colleagues," Yu drenched the word with malice and his lips curled in scorn. "The fools," he added a moment later, his gaze wandering to stare into the distance as if focused on a scene that played out within his long memories. "Time is vast and they worry over trifles."
Clearly no response was expected so Daniel kept still, content that the System Lord's thoughts were on something besides his lo'taur for the moment. The Goa'uld ate and drank with small, delicate movements and Daniel waited patiently, attentively, pouring again as Yu's subtle body language prompted, earning another fleeting touch on his arm. Smoothing an ornately brocade napkin over his lips, Yu stood and Daniel began reaching out to collect the tea things from the table when the light brush of two fingers against his jaw stopped him. He looked up into the Goa'uld's dark, steady gaze, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
"Leave it for the others," Yu ordered, motioning for his slave to rise to his feet. Daniel stood and kept his eyes down, watching Yu fold his hands into his wide sleeves. "Jarren." The single name snapped from the Goa'uld's throat and drew Daniel's head up abruptly. "You accompany me on this journey as my lo'taur, first among my servants, honored at your distinction. This will serve as a test of your loyalty, devotion, and value."
Daniel nodded, opening his mouth to assure the Goa'uld of his awareness of the weight of his trust but Yu's raised hand halted him again. Yu's eyes narrowed in a brief flash of gold that caught Daniel's breath in his throat and threatened to undo his tight control. The Goa'uld's stiff fingers found the edge of Daniel's jaw and clamped there like a vise, holding his head firmly as he leaned closer. "Fail me and your punishment shall be swift." The fingers released their grip slowly and Yu stroked his thumb along the bruise that would shortly form beneath Daniel's jaw line. "Please me and your reward will be equally rich."
"My only reward," Daniel held his gaze and his voice level, "is to continue in your service, my lord."
Yu regarded him closely for a long moment before allowing his hand to find its way back to its place within the silk of his sleeve. He turned, nodding to himself, and strode towards the door. "As it should be."
Daniel tightened his lips at the retreating figure until they were white before composing himself and straightening his belt. A few seconds later Jarren followed his Master from the room.
Chapter 11
Summit - Zipacna Attacks
Warning klaxons seemed to sound the same no matter the alien world, ship, or hideout—someone a long time ago had figured out what kind of alarm would cut through the deepest sleep or the heaviest conversation and send anyone within earshot running to turn the damn thing off before their eyeballs exploded. The blaring sounds and the hurrying Tok'ra urged Jack and Teal'c into the tunnels for an explanation even as the deep assurance of his own narrow-minded stupidity had finally grabbed Jack by the balls. The soldier in Jack had no trouble pushing it all to the sidelines—all the worry, the doubt, the completely unwanted knowledge that he'd been too wrapped up in exactly that soldier mentality to take a good hard look at the planning—or lack thereof—for this so-called mission that sent Daniel far away from help and into a nest of snakeheads. Yeah, he could do this. In fact, that Tok'ra alarm couldn't have come at a better time.
Heading in what he hoped was the right direction to join up with Carter in the lab, Jack was relieved to see Ren'Al and his 2IC coming towards them. "What's going on?"
Ren'Al kept walking. "We've received a transmission. Our sensors on the surface have detected a fleet of motherships bound for Revanna. You must leave immediately." She walked quickly, leading SG-1 towards the rings that would take them to the surface of the planet, the Stargate, and escape, but fleeing Tok'ra from the corridor ahead made them slow their pace.
Aldwin appeared, his face set. "An incoming wormhole is blocking our escape at the Stargate," he warned, breathing heavily.
Words blared from hidden speakers, urging Tok'ra to safe escape routes, but the expression of helplessness on Aldwin's face and the way Ren'Al's hands fluttered in disbelief made Jack's eyes narrow dangerously. He knew that the Tok'ra didn't have enough ships to organize an effective withdrawal from the underground base—they relied on secrecy to safeguard their operation, and a massive bunker of tel'tacs or motherships wouldn't have been very easy to hide. Superior technology or not, these guys were tactical morons, he thought, not for the first time, and wondered again how they'd managed to survive so many centuries fighting the Goa'uld. Maybe the steady decline in their numbers had more to do with bad use of resources than a low Tok'ra birth rate as they claimed. A niggling little voice at the back of his mind tried to remind Jack about his own less than stellar use of resources lately, namely team resources, but he managed to stifle the voice that bore a decided resemblance to one stoic Jaffa's.
"The Goa'uld can only sustain a wormhole for 38 minutes," Carter advised, her mind racing to find a possible solution to the sudden crisis.
"The ships will be here before then," Ren'Al shook her head.
Aldwin stared at the Tok'ra scientist. "There is no other escape."
Yu's Tel'tac/Summit - Arrival at the Space Station
Daniel sat, knees drawn up to his chest, his back and head resting against a large metal crate that bore Yu's mark as he gazed up at the ceiling of the Goa'uld ship. Their journey to the System Lord's cargo ship had been, well, abrupt—Daniel had been startled to find Yu waiting for him just outside the doorway of the lounge and had stumbled to an ungraceful halt before feeling the firm grip of one of Yu's hands tightening around his elbow as the Goa'uld pulled him closer. The flash of the ring transporter sent a wave of relief through the archaeologist and he managed to stand quietly, face to face with the System Lord, much closer than was comfortable, until the rings dropped back to hide within the tel'tac's flooring. Yu had retained his grip for a moment, his hooded eyes staring into his servant's before releasing him.
"You may rest," Yu muttered, his eyes flicking over the crates of supplies lining the walls of the ship's hold as if to satisfy himself that nothing had been forgotten. "You will attend me upon my request."
"Thank you, my lord," he'd lowered his eyes until he heard the swish of the Goa'uld's robes recede as Yu moved towards the cockpit. Daniel had moved slowly, maneuvering himself to a far corner of the small area so that he could keep watch on the open doorway to ensure plenty of warning if the System Lord returned. He leaned back against the gold crate and slid slowly to the floor, the adrenaline that had been fueling his movements suddenly gone leaving him trembling with suppressed emotion. His mouth tightened and he felt his eyes narrowing as an unexpected rush of hot fury swept through every nerve ending until his fingers and toes clenched painfully. His intentions to stay alert and on guard died quickly, victims of the heave and pitch of his thoughts, not the Goa'uld ship, and Daniel wrapped his arms around his legs, forehead pressed against his knees and eyes tightly closed.
This is insane. The words echoed and re-echoed through Daniel's mind as he fought to find his balance. What happened to that cool detachment of a scant few minutes ago in Yu's stronghold, the confidence that this was just another mission, another opportunity for SG-1's cultural expert to put his specialized knowledge to use in order to reach the goal, bring back the technology, or get his team home alive? If he was going to lose it every time he felt the touch of the dead host's hand against his skin, he wasn't going to stay alive long enough to accomplish anything. Daniel snorted quietly: it hadn't taken long, had it? So confident, so determined to prove everyone wrong, to show them that the peacenik geek could bring down the combined weight of the System Lords without the military's help. Daniel was finding that holding his tongue was much easier than holding on to his flailing emotions. Typical. Over-confident civilian. Jack's voice haunted him.
Dammit, Jack. This isn't my job. I'm not the ex-Special Ops badass who can lie without a qualm to his friends and convince the target of his willing betrayal of his country in just a week. I haven't been trained to strangle my emotions into submission and act like someone I'm not. The anger flared again, as Daniel thought of the hard sheen in Jack's eyes as he sat across his living room and told his supposed friend that he'd never really known him at all. And he'd fallen for it. Daniel blew out a long breath and tilted his head from side to side where it rested against his knees, his lips curving up into a smile as the anger washed away. God, I'm an idiot. Jack and General Hammond were right, but my stupid pride wouldn't let me see it and now it's too late.
A moment later he jerked awake, lifting his head and blinking the recalcitrant contact lenses into focus. Apparently the steady hum of the hyper drive engines had gotten together with his mental and physical exhaustion to pull Daniel into a doze. Fumbling in his belt pouch, Daniel kept his eyes on the doorway while he identified the sheaf of tablets Jacob had given him by touch. Peeling one small round away from the others, Daniel raised his fingers to his mouth and placed the tablet under his tongue, cringing at the bitter taste as the stimulant dissolved instantly. He steadied his breathing and leaned his head back against the shipping crate, waiting for the drug to take effect. A few moments later he noticed that the subdued lighting had taken on a strange oily sheen as if a very sheer curtain swirled before his eyes. He felt his pulse quicken and his tumbling thoughts sharpen. Better. Jacob had said to take one every ten hours. Daniel sent a fleeting look to his bare wrist and hoped the Goa'uld went in for decorative time pieces at their meeting. He fidgeted into a slightly more comfortable position and concentrated on mentally reviewing the Tok'ra intelligence while he was alone, without the constant anxiety of one wrong answer to Yu's casual inquiries destroying his cover. He was here now. There was no turning back.
"Jarren." The System Lord's soft call a few hours later sent Daniel stumbling to his feet, breathing hard, locked into fight or flight mode. He caught himself—again—and cursed silently, shaking fingers reaching to smooth out any wrinkles his thin garments had acquired from his position on the floor before he walked to the cockpit.
"My lord?" He stopped behind the empty chair to Yu's left, hands clasped behind his back and shoulders straight.
Yu motioned to the co-pilot's chair without raising his eyes and Daniel slid into the seat, automatically taking note of the ship's heading and speed. He'd been at the controls of both tel'tacs and ha'taks in the past and could read the Goa'uld technical symbols quite easily. The course that Yu had set to the space station was full of twists and turns, doubling backs and unnecessarily roundabout paths, confirming the notion that the System Lords were a paranoid bunch who took deception and subterfuge as a natural part of life. Setting a straight course to the meeting place with only one lo'taur and an unarmed ship would be tantamount to inviting his enemies to slit his throat. Daniel nodded to himself and raised his eyes from the instruments to Yu's face.
The System Lord busied himself with the controls for a moment, sliding a switch along the circumference of the red crystal in a way that Daniel recognized—he was setting the craft onto an automatic, programmed course through space. Jacob had warned Daniel that Yu might relinquish the controls to his lo'taur once the journey had begun and he hitched forward, sitting on the edge of the seat in preparation for rising. Good, he could do this. Until it became necessary to resume travel in normal space and dock with the space station, flying the tel'tac was more tedious and boring than anything else, and Daniel welcomed the opportunity to set his thoughts to something mundane and familiar.
Daniel's movements were stilled by Yu's frown and he froze, moving only his eyes to follow the Goa'uld as he rose to his feet to disappear behind Daniel's chair. The feel of a warm hand gently squeezing the back of his neck made Daniel's head snap up, eyes focused on the glowing tunnel through hyperspace and a short quiet laugh behind him told Daniel that his reaction was not unexpected. Yu slipped his hand up so that his thumb and index finger stroked the short hairs at Daniel's nape, the strength of his grip pushing his lo'taur's head down until it was bowed over the controls. Daniel felt Yu's hand lift until just the tips of the Goa'uld's fingers lingered against his skin, tracing the line of his spine from the base of his skull to the heavy collar that sat on his shoulders and up again.
"Did you rest well?"
Daniel struggled to keep his voice steady. "Yes, my lord."
Another laugh propelled a flutter of warm breath against the archaeologist's skin. "Liar." Yu turned his hand to cup Daniel's neck again, the muscles there iron under his touch. "Your body betrays you."
Trying to relax, to transfer the tension in his neck to the fists that clenched tightly against his thighs where the Goa'uld couldn't see them, Daniel considered his options. "Master, I am concerned that I win your approval by my service at the summit. I do not wish to disappoint you." He prayed the nervousness that shook his voice would be attributed to devotion to his Master.
"You will not," Yu stated simply, carding his fingers through Daniel's hair. Silence fell over the cockpit as Yu stroked his lo'taur as if he were a pet. "Yield," he ordered, and Daniel felt his lips tighten into a line as the Goa'uld's hand traced down his back. Yield? His mind grasped for a likely response as Yu's fingers deftly worked the catch that kept the leathery yoke atop Daniel's shoulders in place. He pulled the garment off and placed it carefully on the console between the pilot seats before resting both hands lightly on the young man's shoulders. Daniel squeezed his eyes shut as the Goa'uld's hands moved down over his upper arms, sliding the thick, white armbands from his biceps to rest around his fists where his fingernails were burrowing into his palms.
The Goa'uld suddenly gripped Daniel's upper arms painfully pulling his shoulders back until the linguist sat upright in the seat once more, face forward. Daniel quickly schooled his features into calm, mentally smoothing the furrow that he knew dug deeply between his brows, and took a long slow breath.
"Better." The System Lord's grip slowly lessened. "Count your breaths," he chanted softly, "as I have taught you. Yield your awareness." His fingers moved rhythmically now, small sweeps up and down Daniel's arms, his back, his neck.
A soft, patient voice replaced Yu's harsh one in Daniel's memory, and it was almost as if he could smell the burning wick and see the fluttering flames behind half-closed lids. The gold script that filled the walls of the temple on Kheb translated itself into Zen cones in his memories. Daniel's muscles relaxed unconsciously. The Goa'uld behind him had taken on the persona of the ancient Eastern Jade Emperor, had immersed himself in Asian culture and belief, the foundation of Zen philosophy. He could do this; he could filter out the unwanted caresses, the lingering touches, and take his mind to that other level that transcended his physical body. Daniel felt himself shift into a familiar position, folding his legs beneath him, knees pressing into the seat, hands relaxing in his lap, head balanced on his neck as his chest expanded and contracted slowly. This was safe. This was welcome. He let his thoughts tumble from their frantic pace into the state of near kel-no-reem that he and Teal'c now shared at difficult times.
He didn't know how long it lasted, but gradually Daniel noticed that Yu's hands had withdrawn. Taking one more deep breath he opened his eyes and realized that the ship's exit from hyperspace had brought him to wakefulness—the stars were back, glinting in the blackness of normal space, and the large alien space station was just coming into view. Glancing to his right he watched Yu's fingers dance along the controls before raising his eyes to the System Lord's quiet scrutiny. Yu nodded, once, as if in approval and turned his attention back to the tel'tac's navigation.
Daniel quickly pushed the armbands into position and re-fastened the leather piece around his neck. He brushed his hands through his short hair and waited, wondering how long it would take for the deep sense of peace to drain away and leave him the same shivering wreck that Yu had first dragged aboard. The space station filled the viewscreen faster than he expected and the crackle of the Goa'uld communicator made it very clear that Daniel had no more time for fear or self-doubt. His inner demons that resembled Jack O'Neill at his most offensive would just have to be quiet and let him think.
"Identify yourselves." The disembodied command sent Daniel's gaze back towards his Master's. Yu nodded again.
"I represent the Jade Emperor, the exalted Lord Yu Huang Shang Ti," Daniel stated clearly, depressing the toggle that sent his voice though the dark void to the space station.
A moment's hesitation and the Goa'uld spoke again. "Two lifesigns scanned. No weapons detected. Lowering shields."
Yu maneuvered the cargo ship to its docking ramp and Daniel heard the dull clang as the connections were made. As he powered down the systems, Yu suddenly turned to his lo'taur.
"My fellow System Lords are not to be trusted," he seethed, dark gaze intense and piercing. "Neither are their slaves."
Daniel ducked his head. "Understood, my lord."
The Goa'uld rose and gestured Daniel to stand before him as if for inspection, his fingers flicking to touch him here and there, adjusting, smoothing, before one hand settled against Daniel's cheek in a sign of possession more than concern. Dropping his hand, Yu moved towards the exit. "So, it begins," he sighed.
Daniel gripped his hands behind his back. You're wrong. This began a long time ago.
Chapter 12
Summit - The Tok'ra Scramble
Jack didn't realize that his respect for the Tok'ra could get any lower, but after half an hour of watching them scurry through the underground base as if their pants were on fire without making any actual defensive plans he was running out of patience. Making more tunnels to complicate their energy signatures would only spread out the Goa'uld attack, it wouldn't make it any easier to evacuate the remaining Tok'ra to the few unarmed tel'tacs they had stashed on the planet, and, so far, that was the best plan Aldwin and Ren'Al could come up with. The colonel sent SG-17 off to render any assistance possible with the fetching and carrying, but mentally questioned the tactic of splitting up the two earth teams. Mansfield was a veteran, but the other members of his team were all raw recruits to the SGC, and he didn't want the panic he'd seen in the Tok'ra's reaction to this attack to infect the young men. He didn't want them learning any of the bad habits he had—including the insidious thinking that, just because an alien race had been around a long time and had access to some fancy equipment, that they were able to plan and organize a defensive or offensive strategy that actually had a prayer.
As Ren'Al led them back to the conference room, Jack stationed himself at the entrance, watching as Teal'c automatically mirrored his movements and took his place at the only other doorway. He'd seen little if any military discipline displayed by the Tok'ra during this visit, but then again, he hadn't seen any evidence of an actual Goa'uld attack yet, either—no bombs, no over-the-top threats, no Jaffa incursions. He narrowed his eyes, his bullshit detector springing to attention as Ren'Al let Carter know that she was cutting all power to the base to further hide their presence. Wait a minute. Why was Aldwin growing new tunnels to supposedly widen the target area if they were just going to cut off their power source anyway? He turned to watch the Tok'ra woman for a moment, not bothering to hide his suspicions.
"Colonel, the Tok'ra have never had the military resources of the Goa'uld. We use disguise and subterfuge to achieve our goals, our bases are designed to be hidden—we are just not equipped to repulse such a large enemy force."
"Well they're not just going to go away," Carter snarled, meeting Jack's gaze momentarily, her eyes wide in disbelief.
Ren'Al was not amused. "I can assure you, major; if this base is compromised we will fight until the last of us is fallen."
Jack saw the tensing of Carter's jaw as she lowered her eyes in a semblance of agreement with the Tok'ra's dramatic statement. She knew. Big gestures and romantic-sounding outpourings of devotion were not what was needed here, unfortunately, since that was what the Tok'ra seemed to excel at. 'Disguise and subterfuge,' Ren'Al had said. Yeah. And no thought of exit strategies, Plan Bs, or tactical options to go along with them. Just what had the SGC let themselves in for with this alliance? And just what kind of exit strategy had Jacob taken with him and Daniel on their big mission into Goa'uld territory? Had all of the battle-ready thinking of the former Air Force general been completely absorbed by the Tok'ra within him? Like Ren'Al, were his only thoughts concerning this mission of Daniel's victory or death? A cold hand seemed to clutch at Jack's heart. He hadn't even asked.
And just how were these Tok'ra planning to 'fight until the last of us has fallen?' Jack hoped they had a stash of weapons or explosives to back up that claim, but he knew they didn't. "With what," he finally asked, sarcasm drawing his mouth tight, "zats?"
Ren'Al's answer wasn't unexpected. "What else is there?"
"Well," Jack knew the SG teams' weapons wouldn't last long in the face of an all out Jaffa offensive, but his mind spun for options. "You've got that poison, and if it's half as good as you say it is it could wipe out any potential ground assault." Let's just see how ready you are to fall on your own swords, lady.
"And risk killing every Tok'ra on this base as well?"
Yeah, there you go. The grand dramatic gesture of laying down their lives to kill the Goa'uld didn't stand up to much scrutiny, did it? "Hey, we're all gonna die if we sit around and wait for the attack," he reminded her.
The Tok'ra dropped her head to her chest and Jack knew that the symbiote had relinquished control for a moment. "Believe me," the human host insisted, "if it came down to it, we would sacrifice ourselves and use the poison on our enemy if we had some. Unfortunately the only quantity in existence is in Selmac's possession. It would take weeks to synthesize more."
Huh. Jack didn't know whether to smack himself in the head or shoot her. Of course. Leave it to the Tok'ra to mix up only one batch of 'Goa'uld-Away' and send it off on a suicide mission. His anger flared again. Suicide mission. Dammit. That's exactly what it was. He'd sent his best friend on a suicide mission on the off-chance that the Tok'ra had come up with a plan that worked. Grinding his teeth he followed Ren'Al from the conference room, eyes suddenly blinded to the imminent danger that apparently loomed in the skies above Revanna. Without much encouragement he'd gladly leave the Tok'ra to take care of their own evacuation, grab his people, and hop the next tel'tac to drag Daniel back to Earth by his ear, mission or no mission.
Summit - The System Lords - Extended Scene
"Lord Yu Huang Shang Ti." One lo'taur stood at the entrance to the large conference chamber, head bowed respectfully, as Yu and Daniel approached through the long corridors of the space station. His words made a quiet impact on the beings assembled there, and Daniel tried to keep his face blank as he got his first look at the System Lords and their personal slaves. It was not difficult to tell them apart. First there were the gaudy outfits that reflected the culture from which each System Lord had stolen his or her identity, not to mention the lack of taste that seemed to be a given when dealing with Goa'uld—the slaves, beautiful young men and women, were wearing... less, and each costume was clearly designed to flaunt their servitude. Whether the shackles were made of leather, silk, or ivory, the symbolic fetters were there—from the young man who had announced their entrance down to the one kneeling beside his master's chair, eyes downcast in humility.
Daniel glanced over the gathering, mentally cataloguing those he found there, who was speaking with whom, who stood aloof from the others, putting the names from the Tok'ra files with the faces. He was surprised when Yu turned away from the room to pace around the circumference.
"Look at them, Jarren," Yu began as Daniel moved to catch up to his Master, staying one pace behind the Goa'uld's left shoulder, hands firmly clasped behind his back. "My future allies," he added with spite.
Yu had positioned himself on the inside ring of the circle that he paced, the light from the room catching his own ornate robes and leaving Daniel to stride along in the shadows beside him. The System Lord kept his own eyes forward, but Daniel noticed the Goa'uld's subtle strategy that allowed his lo'taur to watch those standing in the center of the room while his scrutiny was masked by darkness. He turned his head and observed the icy gazes of the two nearest Goa'uld that swept over Yu.
"Bastet and Kali the Destroyer," Daniel breathed, taking in the Egyptian-style headdress on the cat-goddess and the jeweled net that screened the Hindu deity's face. At Yu's tiny nod, he went on, hoping that he had guessed correctly that Yu was taking mental inventory of his supposed allies. "They made a treaty with Sobek and then moved against him during the celebratory feast. Sobek let his guard down, and, rumor has it, his head still decorates Bastet's palace in Bubastis." Another Ancient Egyptian god-figure, daughter of Ra, mother of Khonsu, with two distinct sides, one peaceful and one vicious. Kali, from the Hindu pantheon, consort of Shiva and the very personification of annihilation. According to the Tok'ra, these two had been uneasy allies for centuries. Concentrating on his studies, Daniel nearly missed Yu's whispered comment.
"You have a good memory and are still worthy of my allegiance." Daniel blinked, reminding himself of his place here. He wasn't walking along at Jack's side, explaining the cultural background of a new world, trying to get in as many words as possible before the man cut him off and did whatever he pleased anyway. He took a deep breath as his eyes fell on the tall, bearded Goa'uld in an intense discussion with the lo'taur who had announced them. Was there a significance here, that Ba'al's lo'taur had some sort of role in these proceedings? The Tok'ra intelligence did mention that Ba'al was devious, preferring to manipulate others into fighting his battles for him, and that he was perhaps the next most powerful System Lord after Yu himself. Ba'al—the Canaanite god of storms and fertility, son of Dagon and husband of Anat—overcame many other gods to cement his rule over the Middle East of Ancient Earth.
"Do not accept gifts from Ba'al," Yu muttered, unable to resist a scornful glance at the System Lord.
"They have a habit of exploding," Daniel continued, "especially when he feels he has been slighted. He wiped out the inhabitants of two star systems, 60 million lives, rather than lose them to Sokar in a territorial dispute." Ba'al and his lo'taur stood, heads bowed, almost touching, and Daniel swallowed a lump of dread at the intimate posture.
"Poor loser," was Yu's only comment.
A red-haired woman, whose broad shoulders were covered with leather pads turned to face them and motioned to her own servant. Wow, Daniel felt his eyebrows inch upwards. Her outfit seemed to be made in the style of leather armor, clearly announcing her warrior status, but left plenty of room to show off her more, um, obvious assets as well. This must be Morrigan. The slave that had been kneeling beside an empty chair rose and approached his Mistress. If he thought Ba'al and his lo'taur were intimate, Morrigan's casual caress of her slave's bare chest left no doubt in Daniel's mind as to his other duties. She leaned close and whispered in his ear while her sharp gaze locked with Daniel's for a moment as his path took him through a stretch of light.
"Do not consort with Morrigan's servant," Yu warned, his raspy voice suddenly full of ire.
The intel concerning Yu's last lo'taur had made for disturbing reading. "He will attempt to draw out strategic information in seemingly idle conversation," Daniel added. He glanced at Yu's back. "I know your last servant unwittingly gave away the location of one of your secret bases in Valon—to his credit he was killed in the surprise attack. It is what has given me the honor to serve you, my lord." Just how he managed to get Yu's lo'taur talking is what disturbed Daniel the most. Apparently the slave had lost all inhibitions during pillow talk. Morrigan's lo'taur was certainly...obedient.
The garish costume of the final System Lord caught Daniel's attention. In all of their run-ins with Goa'uld, they had never before encountered one claiming cultural background among the African nations. Olokun, the West African 'Owner of Oceans,' could be either male or female, and was renowned for depth of wisdom and endurance, while personifying royalty and power. The personality reflected on this System Lord's face, however, was one of sulking petulance and bad temper.
"Olokun is still seething over a recent loss to my forces." Yu turned slightly to address Daniel over his shoulder as the two reached the entrance to the conference hall again. "He may try to kill you out of spite. Do not make me look foolish by allowing yourself to be murdered."
Daniel stifled a one-sided grin. "Yes, my lord." Yep, the lo'taurs were certainly highly valued in their masters' eyes. Maybe Jack had been hanging around the Goa'uld for too long, but Daniel definitely saw a strange similarity in behavior between the colonel and the System Lord, at least when it came to their respect for a certain civilian subordinate.
Yu walked forward, formally joining the gathering and Ba'al broke off to welcome him with a shared bow. Interesting, Daniel thought. Ba'al is acting as host here, and he and Yu apparently share at least an outward show of mutual respect.
Ba'al raised his head and stared scathingly at Yu's implacable features. "I am pleased you were able to join us, given recent events." He hesitated a moment. "I understand that your fleet suffered some heavy losses."
Okay, maybe not so mutually respectful as he'd first thought—Ba'al was rubbing it in.
"I am not the only one," Yu responded quickly. "Did I not hear that your new flagship was destroyed?"
Ba'al's gloating look turned dark. "I lost two thousand Jaffa," he enunciated harshly.
"Such is war," Yu muttered stoically, turning away.
"No," Ba'al interrupted, "this is different. This enemy attacks like a coward." His eyes flashed in anger, his hard stare attempting to pierce the cold façade of the other Goa'uld. "Apparently Bastet and Kali have suffered similar setbacks—they are becoming more frequent while the identity of the antagonist continues to elude us."
A frown built between Daniel's brows. This was no casual summit—the System Lords were meeting for a council of war against an outside aggressor, against a Goa'uld who had hit them all, causing major casualties and upsetting the balance of power in the galaxy. This wasn't a group of powerful warlords considering the slicing and dicing of galactic territories, this was a bunch of cringing victims of a superior force. He fingered the pouch at his side. Was one of these System Lords responsible for the attacks and even now wallowing in the pathetic misery of the others? He wouldn't put it past them. Daniel counted—only six. Ren'Al had promised all seven, but Svarog was still missing. He dropped his hand.
"I am certain you have your suspicions," he heard Yu reply.
"We are all suffering at the hands of this unknown adversary. By shrouding himself he sows discord amongst us." Ba'al narrowed his eyes. "There have been concerns raised that he hides here within our own ranks."
"Interesting."
Daniel kept his face calm, intent, as he listened. He envied Yu's control, a control that Ba'al didn't share—unless he was one hell of an actor.
"I see that Svarog has not yet arrived," Yu changed the subject.
Ba'al cocked his head, intent. "No. But we have received a message supposedly sent by a representative of this new power."
Yu nodded. "An interesting coincidence."
"Indeed," Ba'al replied, a quick smile dying on his lips almost before it appeared. He turned and motioned Yu to join the others.
Uncertain, Daniel remained one step behind his master as he walked among the System Lords who received greetings or glares with the same stolid mask. Daniel felt the appraising stares of the Goa'uld and their slaves as he entered the room and they circulated around him, all the fine hairs on his arms and neck standing up when he felt their presence at his back. He lost the train of the conversation as Morrigan's slave brushed up against his side, and, instinctively turning to assess the threat, he met the fierce, dark eyes of her lo'taur boring into his own. The slave's gaze scanned Daniel's face, slowly, resting for a moment on his mouth before he raised it again to catch his eye.
"Jarren." The sharp word brought Daniel's head around quickly and he found that Yu had stopped before one of the ornate gold chairs that stood around the open space at the center of the room, his back still to Daniel.
With a relieved sigh, Daniel placed himself at Yu's side, hoping to hide his nervous reaction to the lo'taur's scrutiny, but not before he saw the smirk on Ba'al's observant face. "My lord."
"Prepare my refreshment. I would quench my thirst during this weary talk before we begin."
"Of course, my lord," Daniel responded with a bow, mind flailing in confusion as he wondered how he could possibly continue this charade if he was expected to know his way around the completely unfamiliar space station.
He heard a warm chuckle and raised his eyes to Ba'al's as Yu gracefully settled into his chair. The bearded System Lord took Daniel by the arm and steered him towards his own lo'taur who waited patiently at the room's entrance. "Do not worry yourself; Morrigan's lo'taur has an unsettling effect on many of the slaves. Allow my servant to show you the way to our galley and help you get your bearings here." Ba'al nodded to the thin young man awaiting him and released Daniel's arm. Daniel couldn't help a glance over his shoulder at Yu who was deep in conversation with Bastet. The same sound of laughter greeted him again and he glanced at the Goa'uld beside him. "Your Master will be quite all right until you return to him," Ba'al's smile was more than a little unsettling itself. "You have my word."
Daniel nodded and obediently fell into step with Ba'al's servant as he was apparently expected to. Concentrating on the route they were taking through the corridors and turns, Daniel again felt himself fighting for emotional control. Alone among the Goa'uld System Lords and their most loyal servants with Jacob hovering somewhere out there in a cloaked tel'tac unable to help him, Daniel managed to choke down—was it a laugh or a sob? He closed his eyes tightly for a moment and tried to calm his racing heartbeat. Undercover among the System Lords, dressed as a slave, going off to mix a cocktail for Lord Yu. Just another day on SG-1.
Chapter 13
The first time the tunnels shook and rained blocks and dust on to everyone beneath convinced O'Neill that the Goa'uld had arrived. If he and his team had been a few meters to the left, they would be lying dead under the rubble that was all that was left of the tunnel, not the Tok'ra. He made a mental note to never again wish for something to distract him while he 'twiddled his thumbs' waiting for a teammate. Shooting a quick look at Carter and Teal'c, Jack noticed that they were shaken but unharmed before he pushed Ren'Al, who seemed to have lost the ability to think for herself, towards her injured comrades and grabbed his radio.
"Mansfield, this is O'Neill. Report!"
It took a moment for the leader of SG-17 to respond, and his voice sounded out of breath, weary. "A section of the tunnel collapsed. We have some injured Tok'ra here."
Livid that this "simple off-world orientation" had turned deadly for all of them, O'Neill barked his orders. "Get them out of there!"
"Roger that."
Immediately, another series of shock waves hit the tunnels and dropped Jack to his knees, arms raised to protect his head from the falling debris. He saw Carter stir, dust coating her entire body and toggled the switch on his radio again.
"Major—what's your situation?" He waited, all senses alert. "Mansfield, report!" Nothing. Okay, the major's radio might have taken a hit. He scrambled to his feet, taking in the blocks and crystals that still fell in ones and twos to the tunnel floor, some onto the silent bodies of the dead Tok'ra, some too close to those already injured and those trying to help. Teal'c was flinging the heavy blocks around in the attempt to free a Tok'ra man almost buried but still screaming in pain, while Carter worked with Ren'Al to help another to his feet. This crossroads of two tunnels was obviously not safe—they needed a better supported structure and a rally point to care for the injured while they figured a way out of this. Buried under a pile of rubble inside a Tok'ra tunnel is not the way Jack O'Neill intended to go out.
"Ren'Al, get your people moving, we've got to get to Mansfield and his men."
Still too stunned to disobey, Ren'Al nodded and handed the injured man off to another. "They were assisting Aldwin in the eastern corridors." She hurried past him to lead the way.
The shaking continued, some tremors barely breaking their stride, others hurling the group against the tunnel wall where they waited, huddled together, until the roof stopped falling. The colonel kept them moving, attempting radio contact with the other team at five minute intervals. Still nothing.
Jack sped forward when he saw the dusty green figures limping towards them—not enough figures, not nearly enough. Elliot and Aldwin supported an unconscious Mansfield between them. Jack looked down the tunnel at their backs for the others, but it was empty.
"Elliot?" God the kid was young. His face pale beneath the dust, the lieutenant kept his lips pressed closely together, probably injured himself, Jack noted. Suddenly another face was superimposed over the young airman's—just as young, but topped with long sandy hair instead of a green forage cap, biting back against his own pain to get a teammate to safety.
"Direct hit, Sir," Elliot stammered.
Carter hurried to take Aldwin's place at Mansfield's side, already assessing the major's injuries.
Jack knew the answer before he asked; he could read it in the kid's face, in the bleakness of his eyes. "Where's the rest of your team?"
"They're dead." Two words, just two simple words but Jack knew the impact saying them aloud would have on the lieutenant.
"Sir," Carter interrupted, one hand on Mansfield's chest, "we've got to get him to the infirmary."
Elliot was about at the end of his strength, mentally and physically. It only took one brief glance from Jack for Teal'c to step forward and place himself next to the injured officer, taking at least this physical weight from the young man's shoulders.
After a short consult with Aldwin, Ren'Al spoke, her initial shock having worn off she seemed willing to take the lead once again. "We'll take them to the lab—follow me!" she rushed back down the tunnel and Carter and Teal'c carried Mansfield along behind.
Jack waited, watching Elliot, knowing that it was neither the time nor the place for grief for the lost lives, knowing there was nothing he could say to ease the airman's pain. The young man locked eyes with the colonel for a moment, as if waiting for something, and then shuffled past, visibly working to choke off his emotions. Bringing up the rear, Jack grimaced as he watched the slight, limping figure ahead of him, the sight bringing him too many memories before he clamped down hard on his own reaction.
Carter had barely begun working over Mansfield on the floor of the lab when another blast hit. The roof seemed to be holding, but who knew how long that would last—these tunnels were turning into a death trap—probably exactly what the Goa'uld was hoping. He spun at the sound of Ren'Al's voice as she moved from her quick check on the symbiote still held in stasis in the center of the room to another console.
"I'm transferring the formula for the poison to this crystal, and I'm erasing the memory from this computer." She slid the flat object into her tunic while her other hand worked the controls. "We will die before we give up our secrets," she murmured, clearly not intending for her words to be heard.
"You know," Jack shouted, "we really should come up with a new strategy—one that does not include us dying." All these Tok'ra talked about was dying this and death that and he'd had enough. This continued emphasis on a 'noble death' made them weak in tactics and long on martyrdom—not exactly the right combination for survival.
"We must determine what is happening on the surface, O'Neill," Teal'c advised. Finally, Jack rolled his eyes, somebody was thinking.
"With the power down we are cut off from the surface sensors," Aldwin turned, anxious to help. "You'll have to use the secondary ring room."
Okay, that sounds like a way out of these damn tunnels. Jack nodded.
"Show them," ordered Ren'Al.
As Aldwin strode from the room, Jack's pointed glance gathered up Teal'c and let Carter and Elliot know that he expected them to stay there and work on Mansfield. If he and Teal'c found a way out, they'd be back in a hurry and the injured man had to be ready to move. Carter answered with a short nod of understanding, but Elliot merely stared, clutching his weapon to his chest with both hands. There was no time for discussion or encouragement, and Jack hurried after the others, stifling a dark wish that it was Daniel standing there guarding his six.
The Intrigue of Slaves/Summit - Daniel contacts Jacob
"My lord Ba'al has instructed me to bring your master's provisions to this area of the galley," the lo'taur explained as he led Daniel to one of the many small counter spaces within the large room. "My own station is here, directly across from yours, as befits the ranks of the two most powerful System Lords."
Daniel tried a noncommittal nod and moved to open a familiar looking chest imprinted with Yu's seal that awaited him beneath the counter. Rank seemed to be just as important to the slaves as it was to their masters—not uncommon in a culture such as the one the Goa'uld created for themselves. According to the Tok'ra, Yu was the oldest System Lord, and had been second in stature only to Ra himself, but had never had the ambition to reach out to claim the territories or position as Supreme System Lord that Ra had left unoccupied upon his death. For some reason, this was not taken as a sign of weakness by the others, but as a sign of restraint. Keeping his back to the other slave, Daniel placed each item from the crate carefully on the counter and then stood and opened the unfamiliar packages as if inspecting them for damage during travel.
He placed the simple metal pitcher and unadorned cup to one side with a sigh of relief, and then continued his search for anything the System Lord might have had in mind when he requested a drink. The third package—a tall, thin canister—revealed a dark powder, and Daniel surreptitiously stuck one finger into the opening and placed a small amount on his tongue. A strong, dark taste with a hint of spicy sweetness filled his mouth as soon as the powder met the moisture there. His eyes darted along the smooth counter until they reached an upright tubular column that curved at the top. A faucet? He moved the pitcher to stand beneath the curved lip and ran his fingers gently over the surface from the base of the column upwards until he felt the two slight bumps. Cold and hot? He touched the topmost bump and a perfectly circular stream of water glided silently from the faucet into the pitcher. Keeping his finger on the control, he moved the other hand to intercept the stream and then brought his cupped hand to his mouth. Cold water.
A low murmur to his left brought Daniel's head around sharply. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Ba'al's lo'taur still stood quietly, his hips leaning against the counter at Daniel's back, his dark eyes following Daniel's movements. But the sound hadn't come from him. Daniel's eyes narrowed at the unwanted presence of Morrigan's leather-clad slave standing not two feet away to his left, at the end of the counter. The smiling, broad-shouldered human had his arms crossed over his chest and his bright green eyes barely hid a predatory gleam as he stared at Daniel's face. Daniel turned back to his task, moving his finger from the control knob as the water approached the rim and shaking out his left hand to scatter the remaining drops of water onto the floor.
"Afraid we'd try to poison your master?" The lo'taur's voice was deep and rich, trying unsuccessfully to mask a hint of superiority. It grated along Daniel's nerves and he turned back to glare at the man. If Yu was the oldest System Lord, then Jarren, as Yu's slave, should have a similar position among the other Goa'uld's servants, and he'd be damned if he'd let a minor player like Morrigan get to him. He squared his shoulders and lifted an eyebrow, practicing the look that Teal'c reserved for mouthy new marines and silver-haired senators. The sudden uneasiness on the slave's face told him he'd come close to a perfect imitation.
"My lord Ba'al would never allow such a thing," the quiet slave behind him stated, hands clasped before him.
Daniel kept his gaze on the perceived threat. "It wouldn't be the first time a minor Goa'uld attempted to secure his—or her—position through the actions of his lo'taur." He seasoned the message with as much spite as it would hold.
"Minor!" Morrigan's slave took an involuntary step in Daniel's direction, his face having lost all of its intentional desire and settled into an angry mask. Daniel didn't flinch, having seen this kind of behavior from more threatening creatures twice a week for the past five years. He noticed that Ba'al's lo'taur maintained his position, just watching the confrontation play out in front of him. Of course, he was his Master's servant, after all, and Ba'al was a master at manipulation. So this little tour of the space station was a set up. Great.
Daniel turned back to his work, figuring that ignoring Morrigan's slave's behavior was a better reaction than instigating a brawl. His "Master" had requested something from his slave, and a good slave wouldn't let anything distract him from his duties. He reached for the canister of powdered tea—or something close enough to it to make no difference—and poured a handful or so into the pitcher of water, watching as it dissolved instantly. He could feel the fury radiate from the body of the lo'taur at his side and realized that this confrontation wasn't over. A small cup lay among Yu's supplies and he poured a few drops into it to check the taste, raising his eyes back to Morrigan's slave's over the cups's rim, watching as the lo'taur took himself in hand.
The slave's anger dissolved into a pouting scowl before the smile reappeared. "You are wiser than Lord Yu's last lo'taur," he observed quietly, taking one more step into Daniel's personal space, "and much prettier as well." He took a deep breath that expanded his broad chest and Daniel nearly choked with the laughter that the obvious posturing provoked. Smiling, he shook his head and set the cup on the counter.
"I'm sorry, but I also have better taste," he replied curtly, making sure his absolute refusal of what the slave was offering came through loud and clear. Alone among the Goa'uld, Daniel didn't want to have to worry about avoiding advances from this guy until Svarog arrived and the Tok'ra's plan could be put into effect. The slave turned on his heel and stalked away, and Daniel didn't envy him his task of informing Morrigan that they'd need to come up with a new plan of attack. He eyed the pitcher. The flavor of the drink was palatable—neither too strong nor too weak—and Daniel shrugged a mental shoulder as he remembered that Yu's tea back on his homeworld had been a medium brown, without the harsh aroma of the stronger teas he'd tasted in India and Egypt. It was a guess, but then, everything he did at this point was based on guesswork. And as much as Daniel hated guesswork, hated not knowing, not having enough time to research and investigate thoroughly, it was something he'd gotten used to for his work with the military who had a strict shoot first and ask questions...never...philosophy.
"When is Lord Svarog scheduled to arrive?" he ventured, back still turned to Ba'al's observant lo'taur.
"Within the hour," the young man answered. "But I believe my lord is also waiting for an eighth delegate to the summit."
Daniel turned, meeting the slave's dark gaze with a questioning glance. "My Master was not informed of this change in plan," he stated, a slight warning in his voice. More waiting. If there was another System Lord out there he'd have to delay releasing the poison until he arrived. This 'delegate' as the lo'taur called him, must be representing the enemy Ba'al had been talking about, leaving him the last Goa'uld standing if Daniel eliminated all of the others. Eliminated. That was one of those words Jack used. Terminate. Eliminate. Remove the threat. Made it sound so—clinical. He had to get word to Jacob.
The slave bent his head in acknowledgement, brow furrowing at the flash of emotions crossing Daniel's face. "My lord Ba'al is surely discussing the matter with your Master now. If you are finished with his refreshment, I will accompany you back to the council chamber."
As finished as I'll ever be, Daniel thought to himself, hefting the pitcher and cup and nodding for the slave to precede him.
Within the summit room, Yu motioned him away, to lay the cup and pitcher on a table that stood behind his chair. Each of the System Lords seemed to be sending his lo'taur away, some with genial nods or gestures of affection, some with brusque words or even blows in the case of Olokun and his slave. He watched Morrigan's slave, on his knees before his mistress, head bowed. She had risen from her seat and had one hand on the back of his neck, stroking his hair. But her small, hard eyes were staring at Daniel. Yu motioned him closer.
"My lord?" Daniel leaned forward.
"I see that I must again teach some here that I am not so easily thwarted as they might believe." He nodded towards Morrigan who bent her head in a small gesture of respect. "You serve me well, Jarren, but that one still has you in her sights. Return to the tel'tac until I send for you." He placed two fingers under Daniel's chin and pressed upwards until their eyes met. "I shall reward you for your cleverness later."
Daniel kept his face impassive and an appropriate reply leapt to his lips from somewhere deep in his subconscious. "It is my honor to serve, my lord."
He moved quickly through the corridors, and managed to arrive at the hallway leading to the docking stations alone. Glancing back over his shoulder he fumbled in his pouch for the Tok'ra communicator, but the sound of hurried footsteps stopped him and he leaned back into a small alcove, bowing his head. Svarog and his lo'taur didn't even glance his way as they moved purposefully towards the council chamber. Great. If the players were all in place, Yu would be summoning him back before he even made it to the tel'tac. He grabbed for the communicator and activated it.
"Jacob. Jacob, are you there? It's Daniel." Where the hell was he? Wasn't he supposed to be waiting for his signal?
"Daniel? How's it going?"
He leaned unsteadily against the wall behind him, his relief at hearing one friendly voice nearly overwhelming. "Oh, swell," he said lightly, "it's kinda like Goa'uld Mardi Gras here."
"A ship just docked so, by my count, you've got all seven. It's time to release the poison."
Leave it to Jacob to get right to the point. "Yeah, we might want to hold off a while, apparently they're expecting someone else." Daniel knew his words were coming out too fast, broadcasting his anxiety, but he had to get to the tel'tac and await Yu's summons.
"Who?"
Jacob didn't sound too convinced. Gee, having to convince someone that I might have the right idea, that'll be different, Daniel thought. "I don't know, it seems as though they've got some mysterious new adversary that's been causing some pretty serious headaches."
A moment passed. "That's strange. It's not like the Goa'uld to play it so coy."
Huh. Jacob seemed to be listening. "I'll see what I can find out and I'll contact you later," Daniel added before shutting off the transmitter and stowing it back in his pouch. Hard for the guy to exactly argue with me when I'm in control of the radio, Daniel smiled. Maybe he ought to try that method with Jack when ... if he had the chance.
