NecronLord wrote:Fortunately, they don't have to care much. Even a little would ruin the Draka's day.
Though actually, my money would be on them being suitably impressed by the war-development of the Alliance/Draka (which is rediculous, after all) to recruit some of the Alliance to act as military consultants in fighting the Replicators. In exchange for towing the New America somewhere uninhabited but inhabitable. Say... Ernest's planet or something.
Hehhehe. Not too far off the mark. But the truth is even worse
“What the hell…?” were exactly the words Galloway uttered, after the brief flash of light ended and he found himself deposited in a very different place. For starters, there was gravity, and he found himself forced to make a conscious effort to keep standing under the suddenly increased weight of his spacesuit. His life-support system beeped happily and told him there was a breathable atmosphere outside.
He pivoted on his feet with deliberate slowness. The room he was in looked nothing like a spaceship. At least, like an Earth-built ship. For all he knew, he could be on a planet. A flurry of thoughts and hypothesis bubbled in his mind. Unless he was dreaming, and he doubted that, he’d been just teleported out of the New America. He’d watched his share of science-fiction movies, but it happening for real was another matter. I’ll be damned. I’m going to make first contact with ET !
Another thought came instantly. I hope they’re friendly. I didn’t escape Draka rule to get something sharp plugged in my butt !
He considered and then discarded the possibility of it being a Draka trick. The place didn’t look Draka-ish to begin with. Smooth featureless walls of some kind of grey metal, without a single inscription. There was apparently a door set in one of the bulkheads. He walked closer and didn’t feel too surprised when the twin panes slid apart, allowing him passage into the corridor outside. What now ?
“You can safely remove your helmet.”
The disembodied voice almost made him jump in place. His eyes darted around in instinctual reaction to try and find the message’s origin. He couldn’t see anything looking like speakers on the gently curving walls.
“Who are you ?” he asked the corridor in return.
“I would rather answer your questions face to face, Captain Galloway”
The man’s eyes grew wide. How did his mysterious interlocutor know his name ? Then he shook his head. Given the technology already demonstrated, there was a variety of ways. Starting with simply reading the nameplate on his suit.
“This way” the curt instruction came with a subtle pulsing of the ambient light, leading away from the place he was standing on. Shrugging, the Alliance officer unfastened his helmet and began to walk in the indicated direction.
It didn’t take him long to reach is destination. At the end of the passageway, another set of doors opened and he stepped into a large chamber. The first thing he remarked gave him a shock. In front of him was a large viewscreen of sorts. Coming closer, he saw that it was more like an observation window, looking into the depths of space. And clearly visible in the distance was the familiar cylinder-shaped New America. Galloway touched the transparent material with a gloved hand, feeling the need to somehow confirm what his eyes told him with a tactile check. He gazed at the mighty ship for a moment before the now familiar voice interrupted him.
“An impressive achievement for such a primitive species as yours”
The captain turned away and did a double take. Standing behind a console was the spitting image of a pulp magazine alien, short and humanoid with a grey skin, big head and flat emotionless face. The diminutive creature blinked once then opened its tiny mouth again.
“I am Loki of the Asgard, and I’ve brought you here for a purpose. Now listen and don’t interrupt me. Time is not to be wasted” Charming personality, Galloway thought. What the grey alien told him afterwards made him forget about the rest, however.
Fifteen minutes later
“Okaaaay, let me rephrase all this to check if I understood correctly” the throughly mind-boggled human officer spoke for the first time after Loki’s dry and concise exposition. The little alien merely looked at him. Galloway ignored the nagging impression that Loki’s inexpressive face still conveyed the meaning that his human interlocutor was barely removed from tree-dwelling monkeys.
“You’re the representative of a highly advanced alien species” that much was obvious “yet for all your sophistication a… race, for lack of a better word, of Von Neumann-like machines is kicking your little grey butts” that’s for the “primitive” comment “all around your home galaxy, and somehow we can’t ignore it because whenever they’re finished with you guys, the Milky Way’s next on the list.” He paused, then went on as the small humanoid didn’t blink. “You built more and better warships but every time those Replicators have managed to copy and improve on them despite you advocating more unconventional means, but you got ignored by your Supreme Council.” seems like your politicians have a lot in common with ours, then. “Your Supreme Commander, that Thor fellow, got himself ambushed and eaten by the Reps along with the better part of your remaining fleet and now your leadership’s grown desperate enough to give you carte blanche” He could see that his blunt synthesis had struck a chord, for the big black eyes narrowed imperceptibly, and went on.
“Your Commander’s sacrifice wasn’t totally worthless, for you were able to determine the origins of the Reps, and that’s where I, the barely evolved monkey, come in” doesn’t hurt to rub it in, does it ? “You want me to access the knowledge of this ancient and extinct species in order to find a way to deal with the galaxy-devouring machines decisively.”
Loki gave a very slight nod of agreement.
“So the question is, what do we get in return ?” the human asked, hands on his hips and drawing himself straighter over the diminutive alien.
“The Replicators are a mortal threat…”
“..for all the galaxy, yes, I got that” Galloway interrupted. “But if I manage to help you defeat them, it seems to me that returning my own people the favor would be normal, wouldn’t it ?”
Loki kept silent for a moment. This kind of annoying haggling was exactly what he’d expected. Couldn’t those humans think logically and see the greater picture ? He sighed inwardly. Destroying the human’s Draka enemy, while easily in his reach, was certainly out of the question. He hadn’t carefully (and discreetly) nurtured their technological development for the better part of a century in order to render it all moot, just when his long-planned effort was finally starting to give fruit in the form of a united Earth that had the numbers, skill and sheer ruthlessness to go after the Goaul’d and do what the Asgard had never managed, or resolved, to. Eliminate the parasitic species once and for all. The other experiments were a disappointment. None of the other galactic species, humanoid or not, had either reached technological superiority, or done it without somewhat becoming too morally weak to do what was necessary.
Not that the old Four Races had done better, he had to admit. The mighty and benevolent Ancients. Ha. A bunch of blundering fools who’d left untold numbers of lethal traps in their careless experimentations, and never bothered to clean after themselves, instead metaphorically washing their collective hands and ascending, then conveniently forgetting about the messes they’d left behind. The Nox. Nice fellows, but too deluded with their “peace at all costs” mindset to be remotely useful to the galactic community. The Furlings… better not say anything about them. Such an end as theirs was a shame. The fact that it had taken an (unprecedented, and never renewed) collective effort by the other Races to deal with the consequences of their foolish endeavor was better left in a dark corner of everyone’s memory.
As for his own species, well, they hadn’t done too badly, and certainly tried to make things better, but in the end, they could only do so much. Maintaining the illusion of Ra’s presence for millennia, and therefore allowing countless worlds to exist free of Goaul’d oppression, was a worthwhile achievement, but it couldn’t last forever. No, the Tau’ri gambit had been his best bet, forcing the technological development of the Humans’ homeworld at a rate that should have been impossible otherwise, yet doing it in a way that guaranteed the strong, expansionist and militaristic mindset necessary to take on the Goaul’ds. The Drakas had eventually proven themselves the most ruthless. Still, the Alliance remnant could be useful again. It certainly didn’t hurt to have this option kept open.
Loki finally answered the human.
“When the Replicator threat is vanquished, then I will give your people what they need to fight back against your enemy.”
Galloway looked in wonder at the blue-white planet that looked so much like Earth, yet was thousands of light-years away from the Solar System. Through the Asgard ship’s viewport, it seemed proverbially close enough to touch.
“It is time. You know what to do” Loki’s voice stated behind him.
“Yeah, I’m not that stupid, you only explained it twice using two-syllable words” was the human’s slightly exasperated reply. “By the way, how do I get down there ?”
The answer was a flash of white brilliance similar to the one he’d already experienced once, and an instant later he found himself on the planet’s surface.
“Okay, I should have known that” he muttered out loud.
At least he didn’t have to worry about orientation. The ruins were right in front of him, seemingly right out of an archeology book. He breathed firmly in and headed towards the strangely out-of-place device adorning the antique stone wall. Its dark smooth and slightly organic appearance was a bit unsettling, reminding him of some horror movies he’d watched before. Of course, Loki had told him it was perfectly safe.
He paused a couple of paces away from the protrusion, summoning his courage, then stepped forward, placing his face an inch away from the alien mechanism, his mind blank.
Despite knowing what would happen, he couldn’t help flinching when the quasi-organic device extended around his head and gripped him. He forced his eyes open, and the next seconds passed in an otherworldly fast kaleidoscope of colors and lights.
At last the device retracted, freeing his head.
A wave of dizziness washed over Galloway, and the human officer fell unconscious.
He woke up five minutes later, groaning with a splitting headache, and back in the orbiting spaceship. The bright overhead light made him blink a few times, and his eyes resolved the Asgard’s standing over and staring at him impassively.
“Auurgh. You told me it was harmless” Galloway grunted, pushing himself in a sitting position that put his head level with the small humanoid’s featureless crotch, making him look away in discomfort.
“This is normal. Your brain isn’t ideally adapted to the highly advanced knowledge currently residing in your head”
The human winced again. Trust the grey bastard to make the statement disparaging. He stood up, somewhat more comfortable towering over the Asgard scientist.
“Well, apart from feeling like my head’s going to explode, I don’t feel any different or smarter”
“The necessary knowledge should come naturally once you’re confronted with the problem” Loki stated matter-of-factly, turning away. Standing once more behind his console, he manipulated the controls without a word, and a portion of the floor suddenly extruded into a pedestal between him and Galloway. Before the latter could say a word, a brilliant confined light flashed on the flat surface, and he gasped in shock. Before his eyes stood the metallic spider he knew to be a Replicator. Almost immediately, the ravenous little machine leapt on him… and rebounded on an invisible forcefield.
The Alliance captain sighed in relief, then, shock still painted on his features, addressed the watching Asgard.
“Are you crazy ? You told them how dangerous those things were and you’ve got one on your ship ?”
His interlocutor didn’t betray any feeling, despite his reply.
“The force-field can only contain it for a certain time before it adapts. Then it will escape, and we’ll die”.
“Oh, great, just great. What a perfect way to motivate me !” Galloway shot back with a sarcastic voice.
Then he forced himself to stare at the metallic insectoid bashing away at its immaterial prison’s walls, exuding an aura of malignancy despite lacking features to express itself.
And he felt it, the knowledge stirring in the depths of his brain, like a deep spring forcing its way through earth and rock to reach the surface. He closed his eyes and focused on it, his conscious mind metaphorically digging and pulling at the tenuous thread, as if uprooting a subterranean plant.
I gave way suddenly, and he felt the epiphany of immensely powerful understanding filling his mind with the mastery of the Universe’s rules far beyond what Earth scientists had ever discovered or believed possible. And nestled among the mountain of information was everything he needed to know about the Replicators, how they had begun as yet another routine experiment of a civilization ancient beyond measure, before it was eventually discarded like a used toy. A toy that evolved on its own into something that threatened to consume everything living or not, like a cosmic scale cancer.
He knew what to do, and strode with deliberate resolve to the nearest computer console. Loki observed the purposeful human with the closest thing to hopeful expectation an Asgard face was able to express.
Galloway put his had on the smooth surface, ignoring the pebble-like Asgard controls, and closed his eyes. His enhanced nervous system came into direct contact with the ship’s mighty computer, flooding it with instructions and schematics. The transmission only took a few seconds, after which the skinsuited man stepped back and exhaled in relief.
Loki didn’t have to question him. In a process similar to how the Replicator had been created seemingly out of thin air, an elongated, rifle-like device flashed into existence before Galloway, who grabbed it immediately and aimed at the thrashing metal bug.
Smirking, he signaled for Loki to drop the forcefield.
“Time for some long-needed pest-control.”
As soon as the protective barrier was lowered, the lone Replicator leapt again, recognizing its chance to infect, assimilate and multiply as it was designed to do. It did not feel elation or pleasure at doing it. It was merely following its programming. Just as it didn’t feel anything like pain, anger or disappointment when it flew into the beam of precisely tailored energy shot by Galloway’s device, and dissolved in a shower of inert metal particles.
Loki stared at his human aide.
“It works”
Still smirking victoriously, the officer returned the Asgard’s gaze.
“Of course it does. Those Ancients created Replicator technology. Finding how to disable it was easy” he stated somewhat smugly, content to be the one flaunting a superior intellect now. “I also reconfigured this ship’s systems to emit an omnidirectional disabling wave, and programmed the computer to use skipping frequencies so any Replicator surviving a first shot won’t be able to adapt to a follow-up.”
Loki blinked, clearly impressed, and the human went on. “One ship suitably modified like this one should be able to clear an entire star system of bugs all by itself. Thanks to the wave’s subspace component, it will even work on Replicator ships running in hyperspace.”
“Amazing. I wasn’t wrong to rely on you” the Asgard replied with something suspiciously like admiration. He continued in a more matter-of-fact tone. “However, we need to make haste. What I did not tell you was that the Asgard home system was under siege by the Replicator fleet. I hope that it hasn’t fallen yet”
“Then it’s the perfect opportunity to get rid of them once and for all”
“Indeed, Christopher Galloway”
The Alliance officer didn’t miss the Asgard’s use of his proper name. I guess I’m not a dumb chimpanzee any more, eh ?
Despite his recent achievement, Galloway stood stunned by the Asgard ship’s display of speed, as they crossed the void between galaxies in a matter of seconds. The swirling blue tunnel of hyperspace ended as they emerged back into real space and in view of the beleaguered Asgard home-world.
“My God” He stared open-mouthed at the battle raging outside. Rapid bolts of energy silently criss-crossed the emptiness between the numerous pinpoint shapes of spaceships in the distance. The naval officer quickly assessed the situation. He didn’t need a link to the ship’s computer to recognize that the defenders were heavily outnumbered by the swarms of attacking Replicator ships. As if to confirm his analysis, one of the Asgard vessels went from a barely discernible white dot to a blooming energetic cloud in the distance, quickly fading as it expanded.
“Replicator ships breaking off from the main fight, they’re heading toward us”.
“Capacitor banks fully charged. We’ll saturate the whole system with the disruptor wave”
“As well we should, my sensors indicate that Replicators have already begun multiplying on the planet itself”
Galloway narrowed his eyes and set the mental command along with a curse damning the soulless machine tumor.
The tremendous energy capacity of the Asgard science vessel, while dwarfed by its more war-like siblings, was still magnitudes superior to anything else in the Milky Way. Not even the tons of anti-matter fueling the New America and its parasites came anywhere close.
Loki’s ship found itself in the middle of an energy wave expanding at the speed of light, reaching out and shattering the bonds holding Replicator nanites together. One after another, the besieging ships lost power and started to drift inertly, while infesting Replicator bodies aboard Asgard-controlled ground and space assets fell apart, to the stunned relief of the little grey-skinned beings who had fought courageously against their impending doom.
Christopher Galloway looked at his ally. Loki was still watching the situation display, showing the assaulting ships now rendered harmless. The diminutive being’s mouth opened and appeared to work without actually producing a sound, then turned to face the human who’d just saved the entire Asgard species from extinction and now found himself unable to even think of gloating. In fact, his mind was just coming to grip with the magnitude of the event. And truth be told, an exile himself, forced to flee a ruthless enemy while the remnants of his civilization were fated to a destiny worse than outright destruction, he couldn’t help but share empathically what must be going into the minds of every surviving Asgard. It was… sobering to contemplate that such destructive power had been rampaging in the Universe while the Alliance and the Domination had battled in their tiny corner of space.
Speaking of which… his “ally” had made a promise.
Galloway coughed slightly to get the smaller being’s attention back.
“Well, I’m glad the Replicators are gone, or at least on the way to extinction, but I have my own concerns as I believe you remember…”
Loki stared at him in his characteristically clinical way.
“Yes. I will return you to your people now.”
The starfield rotated outside the viewport, and the vessel once more entered the blue vortex of hyperspace. The return trip was just as short, and the familiar shape of the New America came into view again, floating serenely in the depths of interstellar space.
However, instead of assuming the previous station keeping position, the Asgard ship maneuvered swiftly and smoothly at the behemoth cylinder’s front.
“What are you doing ?”
“Fulfilling my promise. This area of space isn’t safe for your people and your ship’s woefully unprepared to fight the powers that rule in this galaxy”
“Hey, with the knowledge residing in my head I can fix it so it smashes through the Snakes like a hot knife through butter !” the officer protested.
Loki cocked his head. “The Drakas are not the ones you should worry about” he stated. “Besides, the Ancient knowledge repository wasn’t meant to be accessed by beings as primitive as your race” he added maliciously, just before he manipulated a control.
Galloway’s eyes snapped wide open. He felt suddenly as if something was vacuuming the inside of his mind, sucking away the ponderous blankets of data that were filling it to the point of overcapacity. Just as he sensed the last strands of Ancient knowledge fleeing from his brain, he collapsed once more inertly.
Inside the New America’s command deck things, very weird things happened almost simultaneously. First, the crew safety alarm blared again, and the incredulous Lt McBride stared in disbelief at the biotelemetry display, where the Captain’s biosigns had just reappeared, displacing the flashing “NO DATA” warning message. His jaw dropped down for good when he glanced at the crew location monitor. Christopher Galloway had, at least according to the sensors, re-materialized (the word was the first to come to McBride’s mind) right in his cabin.
And that was nothing compared to what happened immediately afterwards. The ship’s multiple redundant flight computers wailed in alarm as they found themselves assaulted by preposterous reports from the external sensors dotting the New America’s vast hull. Readings went from the normal conditions of deep space voyage to numbers and values that made no sense. The ship’s straightforward logic boxes did the only thing they could safely do : the navigational computers abruptly shut down in the electronic equivalent of a “WTF ?” reaction.
Thanks to the ship’s sensible design, internal conditions weren’t affected, the life support systems droning obviously to their navigational colleagues’ plight.
“Rosie” O’Hare was the first to reach Captain Galloway’s cabin and keyed her override code on the door controls. The hatch slid open obediently and she found herself staring at her dumbfounded superior, still clad in a vacuum skinsuit, with the helmet down on the floor.
“Captain…?” she asked cautiously, “err, are you all right ?”
Galloway stared at her, stupefaction visible on his face. Words finally escaped his mouth.
“What in the name of the Seven Hells just happened ?”
“Err, I was hoping you could tell us, Sir. Last we saw you, you were in the cryostorage section… and it was more than an hour ago”
Seconds ticked by before the male officer replied.
“The last thing I remember was staring at my wife’s cryocell… and then waking up here”
Both were saved from having to rationalize the event right away as McBride’s wavering voice came on the internal speakers.
“Ah, everyone… you should come to the bridge. I’m not sure whether I’ve gone insane or if what the external sensors tell me is true. There’s a frigging planet right in front of us.”
Detention Block, Dante Base, Luna
25th October 2010
It was a good thing that Drakas, and more so Drakenses, possessed a high self-discipline, or, as Alliance diplomats had often remarked, “a perfect poker face” combined with an uncanny ability to read others’ facial expressions, even the most subtle of tics.
It took all of Anton de Polignac’s self-control to resist the urge to smash the leering Goau’ld prisoner’s face. Indeed, Bar’shan was, officially and for his own consumption, a “guest” rather than a prisoner. Ann Rayner had screamed bloody murder when superior orders had come, effectively telling the Stargate personnel to use the carrot rather than the stick. Naturally, there were sound justifications, such as the uncertainty regarding effectiveness of torture on a Goaul’d symbiote, and the psychological analysis concluding that giving Bar’shan the VIP treatment would make him more likely to collaborate.
Therefore the captive had the benefit of a quasi-suite, with comfortable if not luxurious amenities, a small bad of serfs and, what was possibly the most infuriating thing, access to the best food available in the Domination.
At first, it had worked. Bar’shan, after some not-so-subtle demonstration of the fate his refusal to collaborate would entail, had come up with a wealth of data on subjects ranging from the System Lords to the fundamental principles of Goaul’d technology.
All of it had to be taken with a grain of salt, and in the case of technical information, carefully checked, but so far he hadn’t obviously tried to double-cross his captors. The key words, there, being “obviously” and “so far”. Unfortunately, cross-checking was limited by the relative ignorance of the captured Jaffas, to whom “technology” was “god magic”, and couldn’t be relied upon for more than very basic confirmation of how a given device should be used in a “monkey see, monkey do” fashion.
It was therefore necessary to remind Bar’shan who was the master here.
“Merarch, what a pleasure to see you”
Anton remained stone-faced despite the disgust he felt at the Goaul’d’s oily tone, so unclean compared to the sincere adoration in the voice of a servus addressing his masters. This was the voice of a deceiver, he reminded himself. A being that relied on claims of false godhood to be obeyed. He didn’t reply at first, instead gazing purposefully around the room, inspecting every detail, from the half-eaten food in the expensive china to the young servus girl kneeling obediently next to the polished wood desk and its clutter of old-fashioned paper sheets.
The Draka did a double-take. The girl was naked, which wasn’t surprising, but something else attracted his eyes. She kept her face lowered, half hidden behind her flowing dark hair. In two easy steps, he was standing over her, and his fingers closed down on her chin, tilting her head up. The high brows, finely delineated brows and heart-shaped face marked her as pure Scandinavian stock, an expensive, bred-for-pleasure servant. Her beauty was marred, however, by the blueish bruise around her left eye. A low growl threatened to escape the Draka’s throat as he firmly pulled her arms away from her chest, discovering the red welts on her tender flesh. He inhaled the scent of fear coming from her and clamped firmly down on his own pheromonal response. She wasn’t the one who should be frightened here. He also made a mental note to find the technician responsible for monitoring Bar’shan’s quarters and give him a good deserved lashing.
“What. Is. This ?” his eyes bored into the Goaul’d’s, underlining the dangerously calm set of his voice.
His interlocutor’s eyes flashed arrogantly, clearly not believing he had anything wrong here.
“I punished this slave as she failed to serve me properly !” He made a contemptuous chin gesture in her direction. “What use is a slave that doesn’t obey perfectly ?”
Anton looked down at her once more, taking in her wide eyes and terrified expression. Evidently she was sincerely convinced she’d failed in her task, and was afraid of further punishment. The officer had another idea. He strongly suspected Bar’shan had hit her just for the sake of it and would spin a perfunctory excuse for it. There was but one snag. The girl didn’t belong to him.
“And how exactly did she fail to serve you ?”
“She… she failed to show me the proper respect !” Bar’shan managed to spit out.
“I see” obviously she did nothing wrong but you sadistic bastard just enjoy hitting little girls, don’t you ? “there is but one problem” he added with a sweet smile, advancing on the heavyset Goau’ld, his posture relaxed and unthreatening.
“And what would that be ?” The tone was just too self-assured. Someone’s arrogance had to be broken, Anton reflected. His hand shot out and grabbed Bar’shan’s leather tunic. Lifting him easily off his feet, he allowed his restrained anger to burst out and distort his regular handsome features into a mask of rage. Nobody who saw a Drakensis angry would ever mistake him for something merely human. The truth of his personal situation came back to the Goau’ld leader’s mind, as the merarch roared in his face, punctuating every word with a shake of the arm supporting the offending body.
“This slave does not belong to you ! In fact, you’re only one step removed from being a slave yourself !”
He paused for effect, then flung Bar’shan on the far wall with an easy thrust. The lower lunar gravity spared the victim from a more serious impact, yet it was violent enough that he crumpled down, winded and bruised, then opened his eyes wide in fear as the fuming Draka strode close.
Anton watched the captive’s legs scrape the concrete ground in a panicked effort to get clear, an effort made fruitless by the unyielding wall behind, and smiled internally. The despicable creature had amply deserved a taste of his own medicine. He bent down ad grabbed Bar’shan’s throat, then lifted him forcefully. In Earth gravity, it might have snapped his neck, but here he’d be in for mere pain.
“If one of your servants doesn’t give you entire satisfaction, you will notify us and we’ll punish her - for we and only we are the masters here !” he continued in a calmer, yet icy tone. “Is that clear, prisoner ?”
The prisoner in question nodded frantically, all arrogance evaporated for now.
“Good” Anton released him and he landed back on his feet. He turned and strode calmly to the guarded entrance, gesturing for the slave girl to leave. She did so hastily, obviously relieved at being ordered out of this place. Before the Draka followed her out of the room, he glanced over his shoulder at the shaken Goau’ld.
“Oh, and you’d better come up faster with those theoretical faster-than-light travel equations. Some of us aren’t as patient as I am”.
Conference Room, Dante Base, Luna
27th October 2010
“You can leave, Chrysos, we’ll call you if you’re needed”.
At the master’s injunction, the serf exited the room unobtrusively, leaving the assembled Drakas alone. He figured they could help themselves to refreshments if they needed to. In any case, he’d be in the adjoining pantry and watching educational videos until they called for his services again.
The men and women inside the room weren’t the only one taking part in the conference. The large wall screen was showing a mosaic of faces belonging to those who weren’t physically present, yet had an interest in the proceedings. The room stayed silent for a couple of seconds, but for the barely perceptible hum of the ventilation, then the most important man present spoke, or rather his projection did.
“So, Merarch, it’s been a while since I last spoke with you” the voice was still strong despite its owner’s increasingly wizened appearance. Eric von Schrakenberg wasn’t getting any younger, although the Domination’s medical expertise guaranteed that even an old-style Draka could live a lot longer than standard-fare humans. At any rate, he was still firmly in power and his party was very likely to win the coming elections - although his political opponents, the Militants and especially that madwoman Gayner, were screaming bloody murder. Not unsurprisingly, the announcement of the Race’s latest conquest a couple of months before a general election was viewed by them as a blatant political maneuver. Not much they could do but whine about it, though, which was all right with Polignac. Pragmatic leaders were what the Race needed right now more than ever.
The base commander nodded respectfully.
“It is my pleasure, Excellence”
The Archon smiled minutely.
“I don’t have much time, unfortunately, so you’ll need to be concise. I want to hear the salient points, the detailed reports you can send to my staff”
A few low chuckles answered around the room, then Anton spoke matter-of-factly.
“Sirs, as you know we have added a whole new planet to the Yoke, a planet that hasn’t suffered a global war and a such, is ripe for exploitation. The native feral population is all accounted for and has adapted quite well to the Race’s service. It is still unsuited for any task more complicated than agriculture and mining, which are currently the two main resources on Abydos.”
“Indeed, our tables have seen the results of that” someone quipped back.
Anton nodded, then continued.
“There are huge tracts of fertile lands in the continent’s south, which are now opened to settlement, but it will take time before the first plantations yield exportable produce. On the mining side of things, we’re already getting a steady supply of energium ore from the desert, and the combines are gearing up to full-bore surveying and exploitation of the New Caucasus mineral resources, which are apparently rich.”
Not to mention a lot easier to reach than those in the planet’s star system. It would take years to build a space-born industry from scratch there.
“The current military presence, a Citizen Force merarchy and a full Janissary Legion, are sufficient for the time being. The stargate compound is extensively fortified and able to sustain anything short of an orbital bombardment.”
“Speaking of which… Arch-Strategos Schneider, what’s the progress on those defense upgrades ?”
The focus switched to the immaculately uniformed chief of the Space Force. She cleared her throat, glanced at something on her desk then started to speak.
“Unfortunately” she didn’t waste time on a round of honorifics “the material situation hasn’t improved much since our last briefing.” At those words, several faces showed pouts and scowls, starting with Daphne Jacobson’s, the Science Directorate representative.
“That’s not entirely true,” she said leaning in the camera, “we made great progress on harnessing the potential of energium - or, as the Goaul’ds call it, naquadah”
“Theoretical progress for now, Professor” Schneider caught the attention again, “while you have promising designs and prototypes, we’re still far from wide-scale deployment.”
The civilian held her hand in front of her and nodded apologetically. “Well, yes, it will take time for the first wide-spread applications… but we’re making headway, especially with a live Goau’ld to explain things”
It better be, Polignac muttered under his breath. He’d caught Rayner tensing minutely at the mention of a live, healthy Bar’shan, so minutely that anyone but another Drakensis couldn’t have remarked it. Yes, he better be forthcoming.
“About this Goau’ld prisoner,” not surprisingly, Anya Rosenberg, the head of the Security Directorate, had interrupted, “I maintain that my service is the most competent to handle such an asset - nobody has more experience in making people talk”
Anton sighed inwardly, then answered the chief headhunter aloud, in a firm but polite voice.
“Arch-Strategos, while I don’t doubt the demonstrated competence of your men, I must respectfully point out that they don’t have any experience in handling alien prisoners. Besides, we’re taking every precaution to prevent any mischief on his part” he pointed. “He’s secluded in the detention area, under constant monitoring, with two armored soldiers standing guard outside his door. He doesn’t have access to anything more than a non-networked civilian-grade perscomp. He even has to write his reports on old-fashioned paper !”
“Still” the woman insisted “he’s living in quasi-luxury, with personal servants of all things ! Since when does the Race give such lenient treatment to its fallen enemies ?”
She has a point, Polignac thought.
“Believe me, I wish we didn’t have to, but the fact is, it works for now. In the future, this may change as our scientists get a better understanding of the symbiote’s inner workings” he emphasized with a smile utterly devoid of warmth.
Von Schrakenberg raised his hand, his picture larger than life on the wall display, and everyone’s attention went back to his person.
“What about the captives we retrieved on Bar’shan’s planet ? Any progress with them ?”
Anton glanced at the lab-coated man seating next to him, the gleaming insignia of the Science Directorate the only decoration on his utilitarian outfit. Thomas Rohm leant slightly forward, his hands neatly laid flat on the table’s polished wood.
“Ah, well, I’m afraid they were in a very bad state when we found them. With the notable exception of Decurion Rayner’s new pet” a few snickers ran around the table “who was in reasonable physical shape. Unfortunately, she suffers from loss of memory, and is making slow progress on this track despite psychological therapy. We’d love to know what she did when she had a symbiote in her head, but apart from what are, according to her mistress, graphic nightmares at night, there’s no clue”
“What kind of nightmares ?” Rosenberg asked curiously.
“The kind where she gets eaten alive and tortured in various ways, not necessarily in that order.”
The SD chief nodded, her curiosity satisfied, and apparently without the tiniest hint of sympathy in her cold brown eyes.
“A couple other prisoners also used to be Goau’ld hosts, but they’re so far gone that it’s unlikely they’ll ever be able to talk intelligibly again” What a waste, the same thought echoed in every Drakas’ mind, before Rohm continued.
“Then there’s a dozen others who were never hosts, and we don’t have a clue what they did to warrant being in Bar’shan’s little dungeon”
“Didn’t you ask him ?” Rosenberg interjected.
“Actually, no. He doesn’t know we have them, and we wish to keep it that way, in case we can use them in the future to cross-check his declarations”
“I see” the woman simply said, before inviting Rohm to continue with a flick of her wrist.
The man displayed a tiny smile, having kept the best piece of data for the end.
“One of the prisoners appears to be different, though” he congratulated himself internally, seeing the suddenly renewed flame of interest in the eyes watching him. “A man, in his thirties in Earth years, for what the physicians can tell. He wasn’t a host either, and somehow he seems distinct from the rest”
He paused for effect, then grinned as he carried on.
“Keep in mind that he was, and still is, in very bad physical shape. Bar’shan obviously tortured him very… thoroughly, and left him to rot, quite literally. The medical staff had to amputate most of his limbs, and even then only our strongest treatments barely stopped the widespread gangrene.”
“Huh, bad physical shape sounds like an euphemism in this case” Schneider observed in a deadpan tone.
“Yes, well, we had to cut his arms and legs, and remove several pounds of necrotic tissue on his torso, and that’s after Bar’shan had removed his eyes and genitals already” Rohm stated with professional detachment. A few grunts answered around the room, and he carried on without displaying any noteworthy emotion.
“Still, for all our medical prowess he wouldn’t have survived if his physiology hadn’t been strong and healthy originally. He didn’t display any sign of past nutritional deficiencies, and his teeth” what was left of them “show traces of modern dentistry work, the kind only an evolved society can provide” Rohm paused, ostensibly to catch his breath, and to enjoy the rapt attention he was being given.
“Not only that” he displayed a smug smile “but the tattered remains of his clothing were made of advanced synthetic fibers, similar to our thermoregulating and antibacterial garments, which explains in part his miraculous survival. In short, he’s the proof that another advanced civilization must exist apart from the Goau’ld” he concluded and gazed around to judge the effect of his revelation.
Von Schrakenberg frowned and cocked his head. “Are you sure of that ? Did he say anything ?”
“Ah, no, he’s still in a coma and will remain so for another two weeks, the time for all his wounds to close, then the physicians will start regeneration therapy to regrow all the appendages. And we’re sure he doesn’t come from Earth, in case you’re wondering. His DNA, while undeniably close, shows enough drift to rule out the hypothesis. But curiously enough, he seems to have a very distant parentage with both the primordial italian, that is, roman era, genus, and with the early meso-american one ”
“That’s... fascinating” the old Archon stated. “This man is to receive the best possible care. Who knows, he might be the key to gaining invaluable intel if he’s indeed from a civilization advanced enough to give the Goau’ld trouble. Maybe even…” he paused, as the implications of what he’d been about to say hit him.
“Excellence ?” Schneider, as well as everyone else, appeared to be suspended to his lips.
He folded his hands in front of him and stared at them through the camera.
“The Domination could find an ally… an ally of convenience, mind you, to use until we can put them under the Yoke. But faced with the mortal threat of the Goau’ld power, we need to use every asset, every opportunity that presents itself”
All nodded in understanding, even Rosenberg, albeit rigidly.
“That’s all for today, then. Service to the State !”
All replied in unison with the traditional words.
“Glory to the Race !”
The New America. The colossal starship had blurred the borders between “ship” and “station” when its designers had drawn the first plans several decades earlier. It shared a lot with the rotating habitats of the Belt, starting with sheer size and shape, a kilometer-long cylindrical main hull to which large solar and radiating arrays were attached like giant gossamer wings. However, a closer inspection showed none of the huge windows typical of an orbital habitat, as the ship’s passengers weren’t expected to actually live in except for a select (or unfortunate, depending on the viewpoint) few. Its planned destination was an habitable planet after all, therefore the 100,000 souls onboard were expected to disembark and head “down” as soon as their batch was thawed, in a planned and ordered manner.
The plan had gone out of the window.
Instead of reaching Alpha Centauri after a 40-years voyage, the massive construct found itself floating in an utterly unknown star system, tucked in geostationary orbit of some planet that clearly wasn’t the one intended. That fact was puzzling alone. How did the ship reach this place and how did it mysteriously decelerate from interstellar velocities to orbital speed ?
Where had the captain disappeared ?
Who or what was responsible ?
None of the crew members assembled in the command deck had an inkling of a clue. To be fair, they had reacted professionally, at least as far as their training allowed for the present situation, which wasn’t much. Having checked the ship’s integrity and verified that it was indeed in a stable orbit instead of falling helplessly down the gravity well, they were now gawking at the main display, which was currently replicating in high resolution what the main wide aperture visual array could see. The mysterious planet filled most of the picture along with data overlays provided by the ship’s sensors. It was a roughly Mars-sized body, although unlike the red planet, this one showed the light grey color of dusty ice, barely smudged by a thin atmosphere that read as mainly nitrogen and methane.
Lt McBride first stated the obvious.
“That’s not what I call an inhabitable planet.”
His captain grunted before giving his own comment.
“Too far from the primary, out of the liquid water zone” He banged his fist on the metal console. “Dammit, why ? Is this someone’s idea of a cosmic joke ?”
Nobody answered, although the glares were eloquent enough.
“Anything else in system ?”
“Preliminary observation indicates a gaseous giant further out, and what might be satellites, but the telescopes have just started their scan, they’ll need days to map the place with any accuracy” an ensign replied from behind, bent over a secondary console.
Galloway forced himself to remain calm and focused. On one side, settling below was out, unless they built sealed domes. But then why not stay in orbit ? Provided they found a supply of raw materials, preferably in nice convenient asteroid form, the New America had everything needed to lay the foundations of a space-borne industrial complex. The upside was, they now had a large surplus of antimatter in the tanks. Energy, at least, wasn’t going to be a problem.
And who knew, there might be a more welcoming system nearby that they could reach… although he wasn’t going to bet heavily on that possibility. No, it looked like they’d have to make the best out of the cards they’d been dealt.
But something needed to be done first.
“Kaplan, get the General thawed. This whole situation’s over my pay grade.”
“Captain, sir, I’m a little worried about your ah, escapade” the ship’s medical officer answered with a frown of concern “You should be examined”
Galloway suppressed an irritated reply. The major was right. And there was this amnesia that was as mysterious as everything else. Heck, if the CMO felt like it, he could declare him unfit for duty. He sighed. “All right, I’ll head to sickbay, but you send a team to cryo. The general has to see all of this” and in the worst case, he’ll be there if something bad happens to me.
Before he left the bridge, there was a last order to give.
“Launch a probe. I want to know what the other side of this ice ball looks like” probably more dirty snow, but we’ll need the data anyway.
Reversing the cryo-vitrification process was just as time-consuming as doing it in the first place. The frozen body needed to be brought back to a slightly-above freezing temperature in a deliberate and controlled manner so as not to destabilize any part, which already took a dozen hours. Then came the delicate task of undoing the initial transformation, whereby complex chemical reactions aided by billions of nano-agents had changed living tissue into stable, virtually immortal glass-like matter.
The whole process was automated, and all Kaplan had to do was monitor it. Not that he could do much in case something went wrong, but the Snakes had done their homework well. Combined with the Alliance’ better grasp of nanotechnics, it was very safe, if unsettling for the people who went through.
Naturally, no time passed for them, from the moment they were sedated to the moment their brain cells started to fire again. It was just like a full anesthesia.
Another ten hours later, a chime indicated that the body of Frederick Lefarge was back to a squishy, meaty living state, although still in controlled hypothermia.
Under Kaplan’s supervision, his two assistants removed the general from the revival capsule, slapped a sheet and a heating blanket on his nude form and wheeled him to the recovery ward, still attached to various biomonitors.
It was there that he eventually woke up, shivering despite the blanket and the warm IV, his throat unbelievably dry, his eyes gritty, and his stomach ravenous, but alive.
“General ? Can you hear me ?”
The light was blinding and he squeezed his eyes half-shut, trying to focus on the face above him. The first sound he tried to make was more a croak than anything else.
“Don’t worry, dryness is a normal after-affect” the voice explained in the reassuring manner typical of doctors and nurses everywhere. He felt a small cannula slip between his lips, followed by the heavenly taste of water. The liquid felt like a balm in his parched mouth, and he drank it with relish. His throat felt a little better now.
“M-m-major Kaplan” he managed to utter. His mind was clearing quickly. “You weren’t s’posed to be in the last crew”
The man shook his head. “No, we woke you up early on schedule”
“What ?“ Lefarge said with a tone of concern.
“It’s a long story, but the ship’s in no danger. You’ll want to hear and see for yourself, though…”
“Just get me out of this bed, Major !”
The medical officer put his hand on his patient’s chest to prevent him from trying to stand up. “Not just now, Sir, you’re just out of cryo and you’re not fit for running around, even in low-gee. Besides, I need to make sure your body doesn’t show any complication from the thawing”
Lefarge merely grunted, looking straight at the ceiling. “Could eat something solid”
A chuckle answered him. “That’s another normal after-effect. We’ll get you some food while I run the tests.”
Three hours later and with a full stomach, Lefarge was freed from his multiple umbilicals and allowed to leave his bed. His first steps were rather stiff, but the gravity was only a fraction of Earth standard, and by the time he’d reached the command deck, clad in a fresh uniform taken from his personal storage, his feet had regained most of their walking strength.
Which was a good thing, for the sight displayed before his eyes nearly made his legs collapse under him.
“My God. Will someone tell me what this is all about ? How can there be a planet nearby when we shouldn’t arrive in the Centauri system for another thirty years or so ?”
“Well, Sir, here’s what we know happened…” Galloway started.
“… and this is what the probe discovered on the other side”
On the main display, the external visual feed was replaced by another picture. The probe had been launched on a lower and faster orbit, yet, this image wasn’t centered on the planet’s surface. Only a portion of it was visible at the bottom, and a striking silvery grey line cut the vast expanse across the picture, perpendicular to the ground plane. Another picture followed, panning up. The line continued toward the black sky. A third view appeared, this time magnified in addition to the increase in elevation.
“Jesus Christ” the general’s jaw hung open in astonishment.
Seconds passed as the ludicrous image imprinted itself on his retinas. High, very high above the planetary surface, the thin strand seemed to flare into a disk, not unlike a flower on a stem, a disk with a convex under surface and features barely visible in the distance.
“According to the probe’s radar, this thing is a hundred kilometers in diameter” Galloway commented calmly.
“A beanstalk. Unbelievable” Lefarge was now sitting and massaging his temples. “We considered building one on Earth… and rejected it. Too vulnerable. But here… Who built that ?”
“No idea, Sir. We didn’t see any other artificial structure on the planet’s surface, no infrared traces, not radio waves, nothing”
“And the sheer size of this space station… do we have a view of it’s outer surface ?”
Galloway flashed a thin smile.
“Actually, Sir, we have. We launched another probe in a high elliptical orbit, and it was able to get a glimpse of what’s there” he paused, eyes twinkling. “See for yourself”
Lefarge let a slow exclamation. “Holy Mother of God !”
Tantalizingly close, the vast corolla didn’t show metallic silver, but the iridescent sheen of a huge bubble dome, under which swam the blue, green and white colors of life.
For weeks his body laid on a bed, covered with sensors, oxygen tubes and osmotic injectors. For weeks the medical attendants monitored his vitals, cleaned his wounds and changed the dressings, keeping his martyred shape clean so the abused flesh could repair itself. The doctors had watched and nodded, talking to themselves and trying to come up with any previous case that could be compared, and failing to do so. They were hardened professionals, having gained experience on the Domination’s battlefields where the broken and mangled remains of men and beasts of war laid bloody on violated grounds. They were familiar with the horrors of industrial warfare and pacification. Yet none had seen someone treated quite as viciously as this patient had been, for Drakas never asked not gave quarter, but at least they didn’t let their fallen enemies suffer in such unneeded fashion.
Well, it could be argued that the Security Directorate could use rather brutal methods, modern interrogation techniques made crude torture useless. And a slave’s collar could give excruciating pain, but didn’t permanently harm… at least not in a physical sense.
So they had given the man their best possible care, as they would have had even if they hadn’t received unambiguous orders in that direction. His life was in no immediate danger any more, his wounds closed, skin grafts covering the extensive patches where dead flesh had to be cut off. His bloodstream was swarming with tailored growth factors that told long dormant sections of his genetic code to reactivate, sections that had governed embryonic development when he had been nothing more than a clump of undifferentiated cells in his mother’s womb. His organism was responding to them, stimulating the creation of new cells and structures to replace those that has been destroyed or cut away, guided by nanoscale markers. In effect, his amputated limbs were slowly growing back, as were his eyes.
The process was at its early stage however, and the delicate tissue filling the sockets was bathed in sterile nutrient-filled gel, kept in place by a rigid shell looking like white blank goggles.
Nevertheless, it had been decided that it was safe to wake him from his long coma at last. Many questions waited for him.
“Can you hear me ?”
The lying patient’s lips parted slightly, though no sound escaped them. They seemed to work silently for a few seconds, as if the mind controlling them was relearning how to use his voice, then at last faint rasping sounds came out of the seemingly disembodied mouth the only feature visible on the bandaged face.
“Don’t worry” the words came in Goau’ld dialect, giving the lie to them “you are safe and being cared for”.
At least that was different from… the most recent memories flashed back, and with them ghostly pain and fear. He was fully conscious when that sadistic Goau’ld had dissected him, using elaborate techniques to make it slow, each excruciating second stretching out as his flesh was rendered apart… all the while having to hear the cruel gloating that his screams could never drown completely.
Anton frowned as the man gasped, his pitiful remnant of a body visibly shaking under the medical implements covering it.
“I’m not here to harm you - we found you in Bar’shan’s compound and we have been treating your injuries since then” he explained soothingly, at the same time deliberately working up an adequately calming pheromonal flow. It seemed to work, for the shaking subsided. The physician’s frown hardly decreased, though. Doctors were always protective of their patients, even in the Domination, and this particular one had enough seniority that his complaints would go straight to the top. Still, he knew what was at stake, and had agreed to the early interview, with the proviso that he’d remain the ultimate judge of whether Polignac could pursue or not.
“I am speaking in Goau’ld because it seems the best bet to communicate with you” the comforting voice reached Renim’s mind. It also told him one thing : it didn’t belong to one of his people. He summoned his strength to utter a reply.
“Who - are - you ?”
The words came with difficulty, but Anton had no trouble understanding them and a sense of triumph flashed through him. The man was able to understand him, and he was sane enough to give a coherent answer !
“My name is Anton de Polignac, and I’m the commander of the unit that found you”
Renim pondered the strangely accented words, with the name’s unfamiliar and exotic sonorities. It didn’t ring a bell in his memory.
“Who - people - are - you ?” he rasped.
The Draka officer took a breath. He had prepared for this very eventuality, but the next words still felt strange in their unspoken implications.
“My people are called the Drakas. Months ago a Goau’ld mothership attacked our homeworld.” He saw the patient’s mouth grow slightly stiff at the corners. Poor bastards, Renim actually thought in sympathy.
“We were able to destroy it, and we discovered the use of our planet’s stargate. To make a long story short, one of our soldiers was taken prisoner on another world and ended in Bar’shan’s captivity just like you.”
This time it was a cringe, which Anton recognized as such.
“She was tortured too, but she managed to escape. Then Bar’shan himself followed through the gate, and we captured him”
“You - captured - Bar’shan ?” the question was tinted with a mixture of surprise and elation.
“We did, and immediately afterwards we stormed his palace, destroying his remaining troops. You were among the prisoners we found there. Unfortunately, most of them have either lost memory or gone insane - hardly surprising considering the torture they were subjected to.”
Renim mulled over the man’s (for it was a male voice) last words. Truth be told, there had been moments when he’d felt his sanity on the verge of being ripped off from his mind. It was a close thing. Only hope - hope of seeing his home and family again - had kept him going, the symbolic buoy his martyred consciousness had latched onto when the abyss of madness had tugged insistently. Yes, when the pain had become truly unbearable mental oblivion had loomed there seductively. How easy it would have been to relinquish the fight and let himself drown in the warm blackness of dementia !
Only it would have been wrong.
For he had survived after all. And maybe, maybe he would see his home again.
“Thank - you” he worded at last. A warm chuckle answered him.
“Well, we couldn’t leave you there, could we ?”
Renim smiled feebly. Speaking was becoming easier - and it just felt good to be able to.
“I can’t feel my body…”
“Ah, yes, that…” Anton paused. “Well, the good news is, given enough time we can repair all the damage to your body. The bad news is, we ned to re-grow all your limbs”
The gasp escaping Renim’s mouth made it clear that he was a little shocked by the news. Actually…
“You - you can make my limbs grow back ?” His surprise was obvious.
“Yes we can - you have a standard human physiology. It will take months though, I have to warn you, and some of it can be slightly uncomfortable, but in time you’ll be whole again.”
A moment passed without words. Finally, Anton came to the juicy part of the discussion, at least from his point of view.
“So, I told you who I was, but I’m still in the dark regarding your identity or where you come from” he said in a light conversational tone. “Care to reciprocate ?”
Renim’s visible features tensed ever so slightly. The Draka caught it. Protective reflex - interesting, especially in his state. Military training or mere aftereffect of the torture ? He logged the thought away.
His interlocutor answered at last : “I can’t see you.”
“That’s because Bar’shan destroyed your eyes as well. They’re regenerating, but in the meantime they’re under a protective shell, and you wouldn’t see anything anyway.”
Anton observed the man’s chest heave, sucking in a lungful of oxygenated mixture, then exhale forcefully. Making up a decision, he surmised. He was proved right in the following moment.
“My name is Renim, I’m an officer in the Imperial Tollan Navy”
Polignac allowed himself a small smile. He’d been right. The man was a soldier, and the Domination had to know more about this Tollan Navy of his.
“Well, I’m a soldier to although I don’t serve in my nation’s navy. I’m infantry - a Merarch to be precise” he chuckled, seeing the pout of incomprehension on his counterpart’s face. “Yes, the word wouldn’t mean anything in the Goau’ld language, or yours, I suppose. To give you an indication, a merarchy usually counts 1500 fighters, although in my case it’s a little more complicated”
This explanation obviously made things a little clearer for Renim, who smiled tightly - as much as he could anyway - and answered in kind.
“Eh. I was not so high on the ladder… My grade would translate as gunnery section leader, I think. I was responsible for the direction of the main ion cannon battery on…” his voice broke slightly as he recalled the memories of his last battle.
The crew’s consternation when the first salvo from his cruiser failed to damage the Hatak arrogantly demanding the surrender of the Tollan colony on Larissa-4. Then the panicked cries when the Goau’ld ship unleashed its response, battering down the Tollan vessel’s shields before smashing apart chunks of the armored hull and puncturing the pressurized compartments. In their complacence - but who could have predicted the Tollan’s century-old advantage in offensive capability would have become moot in such a brutal manner ? - the air-tight sections had been left open, and dozens of surprised crewmen were sucked away screaming into the cold vacuum before the computers ordered every blast door shut.
The pounding had continued in earnest, destroying the Vigilant’s hyperdrive, and the commander had activated the scuttling charge before giving an evacuation order, as the remaining sensors showed the Goau’ld assault crafts on their way, no doubt intent on seizing this valuable prize. Whatever the Goau’ld new tricks, they wouldn’t be allowed to capture a Tollan cruiser and the unique technology it contained.
Renim remembered the usually crisp bright bridge, now obscured, filled with acrid smoke and electrical sparks and the screams of wounded crew mates. The mad rush through damaged passageways, the hiss of escaping air, cries and pleads for help by men and women trapped behind bent hatches that wouldn’t open.
He’d reached an escape capsule with two other men, and the three had punched out of the flaming wreck seconds before its final and eye-searing death. They knew that the commander and key engineering officers had remained onboard, for they knew too much to fall into enemy hands.
Minutes later, their capsule was retrieved by a Goau’ld Tel’tak and brought into the Hatak’s cavernous bay, where Jaffas had brutally separated the three Tollan. It was followed by the first of many beatings…
And then he’d ended in the horrible dungeon, separated from his compatriots. After which he remembered only pain and humiliation.
He fell silent again and weary from all the talking. The Drakas recognized his state, and Anton raised a placating hand before the doctor’s open mouth could speak. Meeting the white-garbed man’s gaze, he nodded understanding, then turned to Renim’s lying shape again.
“Well, Renim, as a soldier I understand how you must feel, and I’m sure things will get better. But for now you need rest or your physician will make an attempt on m life” he ended jokingly, raising a strained smile on the Tollan’s lips.
“Thank you - Anton of the Draka” he articulated with sincerity.
For Polignac, it was time to leave, as the doctor was staring daggers at him, and the conversation was already longer than he’d expected.
Longer and oh-so-fruitful, as the grinning Drakensis exited the intensive care ward on his way to the main complex.
Weapons Research and Development Station Anvil
Mars Sector, Solar System
Inside Anvil’s nerve center, senior Draka engineers were supervising the last stages of today’s event’s preparation. They and countless other scientists, engineers and technicians had been working day and night for months, poring over captured Goau’ld artifacts, combing them to unlock their secrets and apply them to their own designs. They weren’t starting from scratch, naturally. The Domination already used powerful energy weapons, but so far they’d remained constrained by the necessities of thermodynamics and power generation. Put simply, before discovering energium (or, as it was now being called by its Goau’ld name, naquadah) and harnessing its quasi-magical ability to apparently cheat things like thermal dissipation and conservation of energy (which, thanks to theoretical input from the Goau’ld prisoner, they knew was due to the superheavy element’s natural connection with the still mysterious subspace layer) simply scaling up existing designs was impractical. Lasers and particle beams would simply melt unless supported by increasingly large and complex cryogenic equipment with the associated humongous radiating arrays. The same constraints applied to energy generation. There was simply a point where the law of diminishing returns struck hard.
Now, though, the hurdles had been mostly lifted. Demonstrators and small-scale prototypes were built and operated as proof of concept for advanced power cores and high energy circuits, clearing one barrier after another and validating the basic concepts for the devices now taking shape in various laboratories scattered in the solar system.
Anvil was one of those, a combination of a space station and test rig whose commissioning dated back to the year 1974. Virtually every weaponized high-powered laser and particle beam in Draka service since then was born in its metal cradle. It had been regularly refitted and upgraded to the point that it was now one of the largest stations in existence, most of the apparent bulk devoted to the kilometer-sized radiators that used to cool its two He3 fusion reactors and backup fission piles. However, the station was also the first large structure to benefit from naquadah-based regenerative cooling and subspace thermal sinkage, relegating the vast sail-like arrays of heat-conducting material to backup purposes.
More super-capacitor rings were added too, for the instantaneous power output of the station’s reactors was insufficient to feed the latest prototype affixed to the main experiments bay at the station’s prow. A long cylinder studded with control boxes, the dull glint of superconductor mesh visible in places below the numerous excrescences on its shell, thick power and telemetry cables branching out from its base to the reinforced cradle which held it.
At nearly 90 meters long and 15 wide, it was longer and fatter than a battlestation’s spinal particle beam. The final version would be leaner with none of the slapped-together look of some components, but for now what counted was only workability.
“So, Master, do you think it’s going to work ?” one of the skinsuited serf technicians asked to an engineer floating nearby. In most settings, a serf would never dare question his superiors so casually, but the Science Directorate Experiments personnel was more tightly-knit than most, the consequence of bright minds congregating in the same place for long periods of time with the same appetite for applied science to bond them. As a result, while the caste difference never disappeared, the atmosphere tended to be less formal and more familiar.
“It does in simulations and we tested every subsystem separately, of course we’ve run a pretty hectic schedule here…” the man replied with a little frown, waving the hand that wasn’t currently gripping a handhold.
“That we did ! Although I remember before the War… things were hectic back then” Both did. Their working relationship, as did many of the station’s senior personnel, went back decades ago. They all had witnessed friends, colleagues and valuable serfs falling victim to accidents, often lethal, because of the frenzied pace of technological research during the Protracted Struggle. It was literally a matter of “make it work, whatever the cost”, and the cost was high indeed.
“Hell yes. I guess we grew lazy after that, without the damnyanks to light a fire under our collective ass”
“Not any more, with those Goau’ld threatening us the Race needs those weapons, and yesterday, if you don’t mind me saying so, Master”
Both men chuckled, and a nearby junior tech, his black hair and dusky complexion marking his origins somewhere in the Domination middle-eastern provinces, floated by idly, obviously unoccupied and therefore up to no good, both decided.
“Hey Mahmood, are you afraid ?” the engineer asked in jest.
“Oh, Master, no, we’re safe here ! What could go...”
He was suddenly interrupted in mid-sentence by a slap on the back of his head.
“Don’t you ever say that, you fool ! What did they teach you at the academy ?” the senior tech was half-growling, half-hissing.
The citizen engineer straightened up, his face going serious, and scowled at the wide-eyed younger serf. He waved a raised index in front of the flushed face to punctuate his own added ribbing, delivered in his best “I’m-gonna-punish-you” voice.
“Do you want us all to die, you silly boy ?” He frowned deeper. “Should I have to call the headhunters and tell them we have a vacuum-brained serf running around provoking the demon Murphy ?”
Mahmood was definitely unsettled now. “Master, no please ! Not the head… the Security Directorate ! I swear I won’t do it again ! Please !” he whined, almost tearily. He’d been the pride of his family when the Mistiss had announced he was selected for the Serf Technical Academy, back at the plantation, where he had displayed a marked fascination for nuclear weapons during his whole childhood. If they threw him out to the dreaded black uniforms, his future would lay in a labor gang or worse.
The Draka scowled again for effect. “We’ll see about that, silly buck. In the meantime, I won’t trust you on this command deck, you could jinx something with your foul aura alone.” He paused before delivering the next sentence. “Head to my quarters and stay there until I come for you. And strip off your clothes once you’re there, understood ?”
The serf swallowed a lump in his throat then answered meekly, eyes cast down.
“Yes, Master” He bowed as well as he could in micro-gravity then turned and floated away.
Behind his back, the citizen engineer and the serf senior tech shared a blank look, but their meeting gazes were alight with laughter.
Of course Mahmood was right. The station’s control module was detachable, essentially an autonomous spacecraft. It was currently holding station 30,000 km from Anvil, its communication dishes and laser receivers locked in soundless dialogue with their counterparts on the behemoth’s structure. The distance, and the remote ship’s own bow shield should protect it and the crew in case Murphy decided to strike.
“T minus five minutes” a announcement rang aboard the vessel. The mood inside the command deck grew instantly focused and serious for everyone. Those who weren’t directly involved in the firing watched mutely, taking in the telemetry feeds displayed on the multiple monitors. Power curves and bars were increasing steadily, temperatures were normal. The two fusion reactors had been feeding the capacitors banks whose naquadah infused superconducting rings could store virtually unlimited energy, ready to unleash it through the mighty electromagnet assemblies that were the weapon’s beating heart. Even then, tiny inefficiencies remained in the system, which would normally generate tremendous amounts of waste heat in previous-generation design of the same projected power. Here, however, the liquid naquadah coolant would instantly absorb and convert it to usable energy through a process that scientists were still struggling to understand. But the engineers didn’t bother pulling out their hair : they just used this miraculous property.
“T minus 30 seconds”
The stored energy peaked inside the capacitors as the main feed was cut from the reactors. The rings held their charge perfectly. There was no leak, no power drain, just as expected and demonstrated before. In theory, they could store even more… but it wasn’t needed for now.
“T minus 5 seconds”
Once launched, the whole experiment was automated, although it could be interrupted right until the weapon fired. There was no reason to do so, however : every parameter was in the green. Yet, every man and woman inside Anvil held their breath now.
Three hundred thousand kilometers away, the equivalent of the Earth-Moon distance, a lone nickel-iron asteroid floated oblivious to its impending doom. The potato-shaped object was one of the many selected for their composition and convenient size in the asteroid belt, then pushed in-system using the tried-and-true Orion drive method.
“Ignition !”
The vast energies were released from the capacitor banks, coursing through the circuits towards the precisely aligned electromagnetic coils and the breach emitter. A microsecond later a tight beam of anti-neutrons erupted from the particle cannon’s mouth, shearing the vast gulf of space in a straight line between Anvil and its target. Traveling virtually at the speed of light, the thin pencil of ultra-energetic antiparticles struck the ferrous mass a mere second later, its passage through the black void made visible as a dazzling thread of white-hot radiated brilliance.
Sheer kinetic force competed with the explosive annihilation of ordinary matter and its exotic nemesis to punch through the outer layers of the asteroid, boring deep below its surface. Back on Anvil the focusing magnetic fields at the cannon’s muzzle shifted minutely, sweeping the beam aside to slice through the target’s mass. Less than a second after the ray had connected with the asteroid, the massive stresses induced by the explosive reactions deep in its core finally overwhelmed its remaining integrity. The metal potato shattered, a myriad of smaller fragments flew apart like shining shrapnel, while two larger halves, minus the vaporized matter, drifted almost leisurely away from each other, their molten inner surface glowing cherry red.
The beam vanished abruptly, the capacitors drained of power. Inside the cradle, leftover energy bled back from the superconducting conduits, harmlessly discharging as brief spectacular arcs of lightning.
Inside the control module, the expectant silence was broken by celebratory shouts and cheers and back-slapping that sent men floating randomly until they found a hand- or foot-hold again. The test was a success. Now all that remained was eliminating the inevitable kinks and optimizing the design into a package adapted for military use and mass production, which in itself was a daunting task.
“Well, Master, we did it !”
“By Freya’s cocksucking lips we did !” the engineer slapped the technician’s shoulder affectionately. The serf replied with a smile of his own, for echoing the Draka’s familiar gesture would have been a gross violation of proper decency. “Although we need a better power source. It takes too long to charge the capacitors”
“I suppose the teams at Mercury will have to work double shifts on this naquadah-antimatter reactor” the technician offered.
“Yes, and they need to bring more converters online too… we’re not the only ones clamoring for more antimatter to play with or so I heard. Anyway, I’m off to my quarters. There’s a silly young buck waiting for his punishment” the Draka concluded, drifting away with a push.
“Master ?”
He glanced back at the tech, who spoke again with a dash of concern. “Please, don’t be too hard with Mahmood… he’s a good lad”
A chuckle came back.
“Don’t you worry, I’ll use some lube.”
Inside the transit hall, the air was fresh and straight out of the compressed storage. The entire hall was pressurized for now, although the departing travelers could have done without thanks to their environment suits. There wasn’t any urgency in giving it back to vacuum, as the next freight maglev from Abydos wasn’t due until 1900, loaded with raw ore and agricultural products. In the other way, the next outbound train would go through at 2000, transporting workers and settlers and the heavy equipment needed to pursue the taming of Abydos. As it happened conveniently, standard lunar mag-trains had exactly the cylindrical shape and dimensions to fit through the stargate, albeit at reduced speeds for safety’s sake in addition to the air resistance at the other end. Work was still going on to prolong the line all the way to New Alexandria. The construction work was done mainly at night to avoid the high day temperatures, the specialized serf gangs laboring under the electrical glare to lay down the magneto-repulsive superconductor line.
But the small delegation assembled now was neither a serf gang, nor an assault force, not even a reconnaissance team. It was, for all the strangeness of the thing, a Draka diplomatic mission, albeit heavily skewed towards the “armed and dangerous” look. In truth, it consisted in the Merarch, his close soldier kin Rayner and Maxwell, and the rather diminutive in comparison Doctor Jackson, who nevertheless wasn’t exactly harmless in his low-profile protective suit. Admittedly a civilian model - for all the distinction that was made in the Domination between “civilian” and “military-grade”. Completing the outfit were the large bushknife and the Tolgren pistol dangling in their respective hip holsters.
“I don’t think those will be needed” Rayner observed as the gate started to spin.
“Speak for yo’self !” Daniel Jackson shot back, looking pointedly at the carbine slung on the female’s chest. She grinned at him. “I like big guns”
The civilian expert’s answering chuckle was lost in the loud swoosh of the wormhole’s appearance.
Anton clicked his throat mike, speaking to Thomas Rohm who was monitoring in the Operations Center. “There we go. If you don’t hear from us in twelve hours…”
“I’ll send the cavalry. I know” the base’s second-in-command replied.
The merarch waved forward, and the four Drakas stepped through the event horizon.
They stepped out light-years away into a cleared space surrounded by earth works, with forest starting in the distance.
“The description’s all right” Jackson commented.
Maxwell did a visual scan of the clearing and snorted under his helmet.
“If that’s what those Tollans call “hiding in ambush” they’re doing a poor job of it.”
Anton nodded. Although he was bare-headed as a sign of trust, his own enhanced vision could pick up the shapes of men who thought themselves camouflaged out of the neighboring terrain. He turned towards the closest group, blending imperfectly behind a clump of bushes, and raised his hand.
“Hello, I come in peace” he called out. He couldn’t resist adding “Please take me to your leader”, raising snickers from his companions. The whole situation smelled of surrealism. Drakas pretending to come in peace, and cheesy references to cheesier Yank speculative fiction.
He was pleased to see the hiding silhouettes rise out of their concealment. There were three men there - strike that, he corrected himself - two males and one female. One of the men was obviously the leader, walking ahead of the others who were cradling rifle of some sort. Given the sleek shape and lack of recognizable moving parts, probably energy weapons, the Draka surmised. They were held ready but not pointing at the visitors, he noted. Not that he felt threatened. If Renim was any indication, the Tollan were human, and therefore no match for a Drakensis’ reflexes.
He stood there, projecting a relaxed an unthreatening aura, waiting for the delegation to meet them near the gate’s dialing pedestal. They finally came face to face. His counterpart was tall for human standard, towering a head below himself, with a square face and clear blue eyes. Anton took in ever detail, the lines telling of middle-age, the energetic jaw and close-cropped whitish beard, the clean straight-cut light grey uniform bearing discrete ornaments that were probably indications of rank. Not bad genetic stock, this man, I’d surmise.
The Tollan returned the examination, not betraying anything on his neutral face. His escorts were slightly frowning, engaged in their own appraisal. Their body language betrayed nervousness kept in check, a rather natural reaction and commendable self-control, faced with three Drakensis soldiers.
At last the Tollan officer spoke, keeping his eyes fixed to Polignac’s.
“Greetings. I’m Commander Katallax of the Imperial Tollan Navy. Welcome to Fortisia Four” His voice was clear and crisp as befitted an officer in any army, Anton thought, the gave his reply.
“Commander Katallax. I’m Merarch Polignac of the Draka Citizen Force.” Glancing aside, he added “Fortisia Four looks like a lovely planet.”
“Actually, it’s a moon, orbiting a gas giant close to the system’s sun. The orbitals make for interesting day and night patterns” Katallax explained, cracking a narrow smile. “Not to mention the tides, but that is of no concern to us right now”
He waved to a pair of Tollan soldiers coming toward the group, holding scanning equipment. “As soon as we’ve determined that you’re not carrying hidden weapons, explosives or transmitting devices, we’ll lead you to our capital world. I hope you don’t mind the precautions, but fighting the Goau’ld taught us to be prudent”
Anton shook his head. “Very understandable. Of course, we do carry weapons and transmission gear as part of our standard equipment” he observed.
“Those aren’t a concern. We wouldn’t expect you to come unarmed after all”
The Drakas watched neutrally as the two foreign soldiers waved scanners around them. It took only seconds, before they straightened out and gave their report to Katallax in their own language.
Jackson strained to listen. He thought he could recognized some roots and structures and surmised the report meant something like “nothing wrong, commander”, but he’d need a lot more material to work out the language in detail.
His guess was right, as the Tollan commander appeared pleased by the report, returning new orders to the soldiers. One of them turned about and started to dial an address on the control pedestal, or, as the Drakas were coming to call it, the Gate Dialing Keyboard, GDK in short. The solid naquadah ring spun, chevrons locked one after another, and the connexion was established. Anton noted the destination address, and was barely surprised that Katallax caught his intention.
“We don’t bother hiding our home-world's gate coordinates” the Commander explained, having correctly guessed the Draka’s gaze. “It isn’t a secret for the Goau’ld and most people in the galaxy”
“Don’t you fear surprise attacks ?” Polignac enquired with a raised eyebrow.
“Through the gate ? Ha !” the other officer laughed. “Anyone trying to gate in without the right recognition codes would be splattered against the shield” Seeing the Merarch’s curious look, he elaborated. “Tolla’s stargate is protected by a force-field. It prevents matter from re-materializing out of the event horizon, in effect destroying unknown visitors. But you’ll see for yourself after we go through,” he waved the Draka delegation forward, taking the lead in a demonstration of confidence. They stepped in after him, and emerged out at the other end.
The scenery welcoming them was markedly different from Fortisia Four. Instead of earth, shrubbery and distant trees, the found themselves in the middle of a urban environment that bore more likeness to the sky-scrapers of pre-War North America than the lower density Domination cities. Tall graceful towers rose out like a mineral forest, their reflective surfaces catching and diffracting sunlight in dazzling brilliance. Slender bridges suspended hundreds of meters high connected the spires to each other, criss-crossing like a metallic spiderweb.
Anton estimated that the smallest visible tower had to be over four hundred meters in height, but their wider spacing, compared to the Yank metropolises, made the Tollan capital look clearer and airier, an impression reinforced by the omnipresent greenery of suspended gardens, vegetal excrescences on the mineral cliffs.
And despite the urban sprawl, the Drakas’ sensitive sense of smell was pleased to note the conspicuous absence of combustion fumes or noxious chemical fumes. It looked clean and technologically advanced.
A buzzing sounded behind them. He turned back, and saw an iridescent immaterial cover snap in place over the still open event horizon. This had to be the force-field. Marvelous, he couldn’t help but think. That’s the first thing we’ll try to steal, he added to himself half-jokingly.
“I must admit that Tolla is an impressive sight” he offered to the Commander watching him with a hint of amusement.
“Our capital usually has this effect on visitors, even those coming from advanced worlds” the reply came with an indulgent smile. “As you obviously are, considering your weapons and armor” he added diplomatically to dispel any thought that he considered the Drakan delegation as backward savages.
Almost as on cue, the wormhole disappeared as a gleaming white vehicle swooped down and landed on the flat plaza in front of the visitors. The Tollan aircar equivalent had clean flowing lines, but none of the turbine fairings and aerodynamic protrusions of a Draka-built one. Its operation was almost soundless save for a faint humming throb.
“This vehicle will take us to the Curia, where you will be able to meet our leaders” Katallax explained. Anton nodded and followed him, his escort in tow.
The aircar’s passenger compartment was roomy enough for two humans and three Drakenses in light armor, two rows of cream leather seats facing each other with chrome and precious wood trimmings. This wouldn’t look unfitting in Archona, Anton thought. We’re getting the VIP treatment.
The flying car silently left the ground without the slightest noise or vibration, gained altitude rapidly and headed toward to tallest spire of all, a giant silver-glass needle topping above the sparse clouds. The exact same thought echoed in the passengers’ minds. Oh, this is going to be interesting.
The flight took but five minutes, although the Draka delegation was too busy observing, and in some cases honestly admiring, the capital’s vistas. Despite the liberal use of vertical construction, the city displayed a sense of harmony that the visitors couldn’t but appreciate with its slender towers, wide forested avenues given to pedestrians and “Hey, those are bicycles !” Maxwell exclaimed in Domination English. Polignac, as head of the delegation, answered Katallax’ silent question in Goau’ld. The Tollan nodded in comprehension and took the opportunity to play guide.
“We use flying vehicles like this” he did a sweeping gesture to designate the aircar they were sitting in “or magnetically suspended ones, for most transportation, as they’re efficient and clean. But our people also enjoy physical exercise. For my part, I used to run daily even before I joined the Navy.”
“I understand” Anton replied. “We Draka are also very keen on the development of the body, starting early in childhood.”
“I can see that, although I wouldn’t expect anything else of another soldier. Ah, may I ask you a more… personal question ?”
“Naturally”
“I can’t help but remark some… differences between you or your fellow soldiers” Katallax eyed the three Drakenses (all of whom had removed their helmets inside the Tollan flying limousine) in quick succession “and your compatriot here, Daniel Jackson”
All four Drakas knew the matter would come into question sooner and later, and the answer had been discussed at length along with everything else they would be authorized to reveal.
“I understand your curiosity. Those are due to genetic modifications that became possible around the time my generation was born.”
Catching the Tollan’s curious glance in his direction, Daniel Jackson provided the rest of the answer.
“I’m too old” he smiled indulgently. “In my time we had to sweat it for every gram of added muscle or reduced millisecond of reaction time” He remained impassible as Rayner made a show of poking him in the ribs.
The Tollan was clearly interested, however, and leaned slightly forward. “So, are those modifications given to everyone in your population ?”
“Every Citizen, yes” No need to explain that not everyone in the Domination was a Citizen, for now.
“I see” Katallax pondered the fact, pretending to look outside. Not that he was that interested in the familiar urban scenery, unlike his guests. Genetic engineering was a barely developed field in the Tollan Empire. He knew that a few experimental medical treatments were being worked on in various institutes, mostly to correct some common gene-related diseases, but what the Drakas displayed on their own bodies was on a whole other level. No doubt the Curia would find it very interesting.
They were close to their destination now and the vehicle climbed higher. Grey stone and metal suddenly were replaced with green and blue as they began overflew a belt of parkland surrounding the Curia tower. Katallax pointed to the paths and streams meandering through the trees and grassed areas. “Those are the Imperial Gardens. When I’m in the capital, that’s where I do most of my running, and it’s a wonderful place to relax”
“Then I hope we’ll have an opportunity to visit them” Anton answered gracefully.
The car slowed and came smoothly down on an outrigger platform several stories above the monumental flight of wide steps that surrounded the tower’s first level. Uniformed guards stood at attention outside, along with a female civilian in what looked like an expensive office dress, although its sober cut and subdued off-white color was closer to the Alliance’s dress code than to the Domination.
The four Drakas briefly appraised the guards. They were standing sharply with impeccable uniforms and polished boots as ceremonial guards did everywhere, but in truth, they failed to project any sense of threat as far as the four visitors were concerned. Nor did their blank faces reveal anything more than curiosity, betrayed by eyes twitching into the Drakas’ direction, before coming back to their straight forward position.
The Tollan executive stepped forward with a controlled polite smile. She wasn’t bad-looking, the foursome decided unanimously upon a closer exam. She appeared to be in her thirties, with light chestnut hair pulled back in a plaited bun, lightly tanned skin and pale blue eyes set in a graceful oval face. She’d make for a fine bedwench, Anton immediately decided, and he suspected his companions had reached the same conclusion.
“Greetings and welcome to Tollania” she intoned in a honey-smooth soprano. “My name is Elledia, and I have the rank of Assistant Administrator in the Diplomatic Service. My superior sends his regrets that he cannot greet you here, but he will receive you as soon as you complete the entry formalities.”
At Anton’s surprise, Daniel Jackson stepped ahead and extended his hand, then spoke in accented Tollan.
“It is our pleasure to meet you, Administrator Elledia” he offered with a suave smile and a minute bow. The Tollan woman considered the proffered hand for a short moment, then gave hers in return, her smile a little wider and warmer.
“Scholar Jackson” she answered in her language “I am impressed at your ease in speaking Tollan. Most visitors don’t learn it so quickly, or at all”
Anton mentally rolled his eyes. The damn archeologist’s uncanny ability to learn new tongues was almost irritating to a Drakensis’ sense of birth-given intellectual superiority. And the man just had to flaunt it in front of the pretty alien wench. On the other hand, it put paid to any thought that his presence was unneeded - not that anyone here had entertained any such.
“My Tollan is still rough, we did not have much to learn from as your compatriot in our care still needs much rest time” Daniel explained.
“There’s no need to apologize, Scholar Jackson” Elledia gracefully counterpointed before switching to the more familiar Goau’ld dialect that served as the galaxy’s apparent lingua franca. “If you will follow me ?” she showed them the way with an elegant hand flourish.
The Drakas fell in line after her, Daniel swiftly getting in the lead where he had an unobstructed view on the Tollan woman’s shapely legs and swaying derriere.
They walked through sliding glass doors into a corridor lit by glowing translucent panels, and another set of doors opened to allow them passage into a high-ceiling room. The main feature was a large hotel-style reception desk whose black marble complemented the polished-stone white walls. Anton was starting to get a feel for the Tollans’ sense of style. It apparently ran toward the “simple sophistication”, rather similar to the last trends appeared in Pre-War Alliance, albeit with an emphasis on noble materials that was pleasing to a Draka mind.
A few more security guards were present, two of them standing behind the marble desk.
“I’m afraid that you will have to leave your weapons here” Elledia explained. “Naturally, they will be returned upon your departure. Ah, you should be advised that wearing arms in public is frowned upon in Tollania” she added with an apologetic smile, standing with her hands clasped on the front of her dress.
Anton nodded and strode to the counter first. Wordlessly, he unfastened his carbine, checked it was safe, and deposited it on the marble slab. His twin pistols followed, joined by a pair of grenades and his read magazines.
The guard in front of him raised a polite eyebrow.
“Your knife, please, Sir”
The Draka resisted the urge to sigh and pulled his mono-edge combat blade out of its chest sheath. It met the precisely aligned arsenal on the counter.
“Thank you, Sir. You should also leave your backpack, as it contains munitions and explosives you won’t need here” the guard said in a neutral tone.
Polignac undid the clasps and placed the pack next to the weapons. “I didn’t intend to bomb this place anyway” he commented.
“If you did, it wouldn’t matter” Elledia returned slyly. “This building has security measures in place that would prevent explosives from doing any damage”
Another item that warranted future investigation, Anton decided. He watched as the pair of Tollan guards pick up the assortment with a slightly bemused look. Evidently it was rare for visitors to bring along such an arsenal, but they handled the weapons competently and safely enough. His belongings were deposited in an open safe that was sticking out of the far wall along with a number of closed ones, much like palestra lockers. After it was closed, the senior guard invited the waiting Draka to input a five-character code on the luminous pad that appeared on the counter. The marble was apparently topped by an ultra-thin tactile display. The keys showed Goau’ld numerals, but Polignac surmised they could seamlessly display whatever glyphs were convenient. He chose a random combination, and the procedure was finished for him.
Daniel stepped in after him, laying down his pistol and kukri.
“Your other knife too, Sir” the uniformed security operator deadpanned, to the doctor’s internal displeasure. Not that he intended to go on a killing spree nor had any firm reason to distrust the Tollans (bar the Domination’s traditional outlook on foreigners). But it told him they’d been subjected to an unobtrusive security scan, which wasn’t too surprising, and above all a Draka felt naked if he had to surrender his weapons. A purely psychological feeling, naturally, as even a naked Citizen was a lethal weapon in itself.
Nevertheless, he complied to the guard’s demand, unsheathing the small matte black blade hidden inside his right boot.
“Thank you Sir” the answer was polite enough, without a hint of sarcasm, but Daniel couldn’t help feeling that the security men felt a little smug. He consoled himself with a mental image of the offenders being lowered on a sharpened stake. Something that would happen sooner or later anyway, a small voice said at the back of his mind. Whatever the galaxy threw at them, it was still the Race’s destiny to put others under the Yoke.
And in the meantime he’d gladly start with the attractive Tollan administrator.
I wouldn't mind comments, since people apparently read the story
After they completed the security check-in, the visitors were given metal badges - “every foreign visitor gets one” was the explanation provided - and ushered to an elevator that took them, without any feeling of acceleration or deceleration, to the tower’s upper levels. Elledia led them through another plush-carpeted corridor that screamed “high level government offices”, and impression confirmed by the busy-looking and well-dressed executives prowling the area and the sentries posted at regular intervals.
“Infiltration attempts were made by the Goau’ld in the past” their guide explained, almost apologetically. She didn’t elaborate on the fact that the Goau’ld were merely the latest. People from the handful of worlds conquered by the Tollan Empire were the first to try and get back at their conquerors, even though the majority usually found the new leadership a lot better than the former.
Daniel Jackson didn’t miss the paintings and engravings displayed on the wood-and-metal paneled walls, their subjects obviously historical scenes and portraits of past leaders. It felt familiar even though details were different. Obviously, human nature worked the same even on worlds separated by the vast gulfs of space and time, yielding recognizable results such as war, conquest, glory and politics.
At last they reached their destination. Upon entering the room, they were greeted by a panoramic view of Tollania’s skyline viewed through the one-piece floor to ceiling exterior bay that made up the tower’s external skin at this level. Discernible here and there, ghostly flickering and shimmering, was the transparent force-field that protected the building from an outside attack. What looked like flat plastic chairs were strewn along the clear window, and while the wall on the entrance’s right-side was solid, the one on the left contained a solid-paneled dark wood door. Alongside it was a brushed metal and glass desk, behind which another smartly-dressed young female sat straighter as the visitors entered, and pressed an illuminated button projected on her desk’s surface.
“Assistant Administrator Elledia” she intoned “and the Draka delegation are here, Sir”
She cocked her head slightly, apparently listening to the answer through an ear-piece, then pushed stood up, uncrossing her bare legs in the process. The clear glass slab didn’t provide any hindrance to the Drakas getting a good look, although they didn’t show any outward reaction. I bet she fucks her boss, Anton thought. The Drakensis’ augmented sense of awareness also picked up hints, in Elledia’s subtly altered body language, of carefully, but not quite entirely successfully, hidden antagonism between the two women. He repressed a chuckle. Like two wenches competing for their Master’s favor, he thought whimsically. All those ferals can whine about us, but in the end we’re just less hypocritical than they are. In the end it all comes down to who has power over whom.
The private secretary stepped near the door and applied her palm on the metallic slab that acted as access control. An instant later, a soft chime sounded, and the door unlocked silently, pivoting on its hinge and allowing access to the inner sanctum.
“All right, Rayner, Maxwell, you stay here. No need for us to all go in. And behave !”
The two soldiers acknowledged with a nod, then Polignac and Jackson went in after Elledia, and the door closed behind them.
In the antechamber, the Tollan girl sat back at her table and pretended to resume her working the desk’s integral display, shuffling virtual documents around in an obvious pretense of keeping busy. In fact, she was observing the pair of visitors covertly, or so she thought. She couldn’t help being curious about them. Both were clearly soldiers, their bearing said so eloquently, and to be fair they looked taller and fitter than… well, anyone she’d ever seen. Not to mention strikingly handsome and exotic with those cat-like eyes. She’d read the preliminary report on first contact, but it was quite empty of hard facts besides them apparently possessing a respectable technological level and somehow having liberated a Tollan prisoner from Goau’ld captivity, which was no small feat if true. As it probably was, since they had contacted the Fortisia 4 garrison with authentic, if outdated, Navy recognition codes and backup radio protocols, after which dialogue was established through the stargate, leading to them sending this delegation.
Being the personal secretary of the Diplomatic Service’s Senior Administrator had its information perks as well. In her position, the young woman had a better idea of the actual military situation than the average Tollan-in-the-street, and knew therefore that the Navy had suffered a string of defeats and “tactical withdrawals” during the last months.
If those Drakas became an ally against the Goau’ld threat, so much the better. She wondered however, what they would make of the Tollan Empire’s, well, imperialistic past behavior.
She paused in her reflexion as she became aware of… something. She felt warmer. She glanced at the climate control reading. The air temperature was absolutely normal. Despite that, she was feeling as if the atmosphere was suddenly tropical, warm and moist, like during her last vacation with the Senior Administrator in the Southern Islands. Except she’d been naked then. Now she was starting to sweat under her fancy designer dress. She glanced openly at the two guests. They were slouching on the form-fitting chairs, looking utterly at ease and chatting quietly, occasionally pointing to distant scenery features through the clear wall. She tried to strain and listen, but they were keeping their voice low and were just a bit too far away to make out words, but the sonorities sounded neither Goau’ld nor Tollan. Probably their native language, she surmised. No doubt the security was listening to their discussion as well, but she still couldn’t understand it.
At any rate, they weren’t paying attention to her, from what she could observe. She wondered if they felt hotter too, then discarded the idea. The temperature reading was unambiguous. It was in her head, somehow, unless the system was malfunctioning… but then maintenance would pick it up immediately.
She shook her head in annoyance. Eventually she decided to speak out.
“Pardon me” she started in Goau’ld, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but does the air feel warmer to you ?”
The pair interrupted their conversation and turned their head in her direction.
“I’m afraid not” the female answered, gibing her a curious look “Besides, our suits are thermoregulating.”
“Oh, it must be me then. Sorry to bother you” the Tollan returned with a slightly embarrassed tone and pretended to look away.
Rayner gave Maxwell a meaningful glance, cocking her head minutely. She didn’t need to say it out loud, but it was obvious the young woman was feeling the effect of their little innocuous experiment.
It was time to implement Phase Two.
The soldier shifted on his chair. “I’m getting restless sitting there” he commented, just before standing up and stretching visibly. Rayner’s peripheral vision caught the secretary’s furtive glance, and she raised her head, staring at her comrade with a raised eyebrow.
“Might as well be polite with the company” the man elaborated, pointing at the desk with his chin.
The Decurion shrugged an answer, “Suit yourself”, and went back to admiring the exterior vista.
The Tollan girl couldn’t pretend to ignore the tall man walking, no, gliding soundlessly toward her like… like her house cat, she realized, with the same supple ease of movement and apparent obliviousness to the world beyond. She swallowed and raised her head, summoning a trained smile.
“Uh, can I do something for you ?” Oh, yes I think you can, pretty little girl, Maxwell mentally answered with an inner smirk. Projecting a friendly outer demeanor, he crossed his arms and leaned negligently on the desk’s edge, his body turned in the outer wall’s direction, his head pointed down and away at the Tollan.
“Nice view” he commented in a chit-chat manner, waving a hand in a sweeping motion at the distant skyline, although his comment applied as well to the hint of cleavage that was visible from his overlooking viewpoint.
“Err, yes, it is quite outstanding, isn’t it ?” she replied, eying him with a mixture of curiosity and, well, she had to admit to herself, interest. Professional interest, she told herself firmly.
“So, do you have a name ? Mine’s Maxwell, but my friends call me Max” he grinned genially.
Unseen, Rayner resisted the urge to roll her eyes, as the Tollan woman gingerly presented herself.
“I’m Karellin”
“Sounds lovely” Maxwell commented, noting the growing blush on his interlocutor’s skin. The poor creature was getting a close-up introduction to Draka dominance/lust pheromones. “By the way, I’m curious about something.”
Karellin cocked her head in a silent invitation to ask away, and he elaborated.
“Do you people have only one name ?”
“Oh” she shook her head, smiling “no. I’ll try to explain it simply. The name we give in everyday conversation, as I just did, is our usual name. Our full names are much longer”
“Really ?” Maxwell was genuinely interested.
“Yes, because they include our family lineage on the father and mother side and place of origin. For example” she breathed in “My full identity would translate as Karellin from Hypatika, daughter of Mekratas and Iseria” she finished breathlessly.
“I see. Well, I’ll stick with Karellin if you don’t mind” the visitor said jokingly, enjoying her increasingly perturbed state. “You know, I met a girl once who looked just like you” It was in North America just after the War and the whole surviving Tetrarchy raped her before the ghouloons finished the job, he didn’t add.
Her face and chest were brightly flushed now, and her breath was running a little ragged. He was savoring her mounting arousal, which in return stimulated his own pheromonal state in a carefully designed positive feedback loop. He felt himself stiffen, although his armored suit wouldn’t show it, but her nipples were definitely poking through the fabric of her buttoned dress. And he didn’t miss how she nervously crossed and uncrossed her legs, oblivious to her situation.
She’s getting ripe, his senses and experience told him.
And Rayner had reached the same conclusion, discreetly observing the proceedings from her seat. It was time to break up the scene or Maxwell would soon be banging the Tollan girl silly on her expensive desk. And that would be rather undiplomatic, to say the least.
She rose swiftly and strode to the desk, wearing a friendly smile, but her eyes bore into Maxwell’s for a significant moment.
“I’m getting thirsty waiting,” she announced innocently. “I’m sure you people have an equivalent to coffee, don’t you ?” she asked Karellin, breaking the spell. Putting her hand on Maxwell’s shoulder, she added mischievously “And my comrade here needs to see the restroom.”
This is riveting, if only because it's a showdown between two empires that we all love to hate -- the Gou'ald and the Domination. Of course I want to see the Gou'ald bite it hard, but then again, I also want to see the Homo Drakensis get their upstart hominid asses forcibly moved several notches back down the evolutionary tree.
There will be ass-bleeding for everyone. Drakas included. It's already shaping up to be a much longer story than I'd anticipated when I started. There's a whole lot of potential material in the stargateverse, including stuff that lends itself to be fleshed out.
Tollania, Capital of the Tollan Homeworld
Three hours later
“They’re dangerous”
“I’d concur, but for whom ? That’s the million-talent question, don’t you think ?”
And in the Tollan main currency, a million was a lot indeed. One could buy a sizable apartment with a view on the Imperial Gardens for such a sum. Or a small intrasystem shuttle.
The first speaker leant forward on his chair, reinforcing the gesture with a deep stare at his two interlocutors. His calm demeanor and controlled movements told of a mind used to thoughtful analysis of events and situations, and his almost-drab attire belied his actual status in the Tollan Empire, for he was the head of Imperial Intelligence, the secretive agency that kept tag on potential threats to his nation, from colonial resistance cells to hungry System Lords and their underlings. Its tendrils ran on the dozen Imperial-held worlds and, through the known network of stargates, a galaxy-spanning smatter of planets ranging from backwater agricultural societies to space-faring powers.
It was power and knowledge, but it had failed to predict the sudden appearance of a Goau’ld countermeasure to the Tollan phase-shifting technology. Nor had the Nox said anything, when asked about this, other than their usual lecturing about “peace” and “non-violence”. Well that was easy when you could turn invisible to your enemies and resurrect at will. Damn flower-heads. And the Tok’ra were unreachable, as usual. They only called when it suited their own interests.
And now he was asked to give his professional estimation about the newly-encountered Drakas. Seconds passed by, uninterrupted by either men. They were watching him, although one kept his face as neutral as he did himself.
“They’re… utterly confident” he eventually spoke, in his customary measured tone. “I have observed them from the moment they stepped out of our gate to the moment they left. They showed signs of interest, even curiosity, but above all they were observing everything around them in a similar way as I was watching them.”
“How is that unnatural ? They’re clearly experienced, professional people.” the Senior Administrator objected. “Their government certainly wouldn’t send naïve innocent children !”
The spymaster inclined his head, a faint concessive smile on his lips.
“Yes, that was naturally to be expected. However, I’m a fairly good judge of character, and I can read most people, as you know” his smile grew fractionally wider “and those people, even the civilian one… they’re cold killers. Trust me on that.” he finished, leaning back on the leather chair that was a clear sign of affectation on Administrator Aurelim’s part when shape-contouring equivalents were readily available.
“Well, they were polite enough when I met them… I didn’t feel any enmity or threat, only the natural reserve I’d expect from diplomatic envoys, but under this I found them rather friendly”
A short snort answered him. Friendly ? Oh yes, I’d say your secretary found them so.
The director of intelligence kept his face blank. Yes, we all know she’s your expensive fuck-toy, he thought sarcastically, then elaborated aloud. “This Maxwell fellow” he articulated the foreign name with affected precision “seemed to be very friendly with your personal assistant.” He paused minutely, noting the flash of surprise in the diplomat’s eyes. “And Administrator Elledia also seemed quite taken with Scholar Jackson. I suppose it is natural, after all. They’re women and these Drakas have an undeniable... physical presence” he trailed, noticing his interlocutor’s minutely tenser body language, although the response was dismissive rather than angry.
“So ? Our visitors are warriors after all. We all know how this type tends to impress young females” he ended with a sly smile directed at the third man in the room, who had until then remained silent and neutral, sitting rather stiffly on his seat.
“I wouldn’t comment about that, Sir. I’m married” Commander Katallax answered courteously, drawing polite chuckles in return before the mood became serious again.
“You were the first to meet the Drakas, Commander. What’s your opinion ?” Aurelim asked bluntly.
The uniformed man flexed his fingers together, his face pensive. “In my own opinion as a ground-fighting soldier, and keeping in fact the rather short time, they would be challenging adversaries - or allies. Their culture places a heavy emphasis on martial prowess, but unlike the Jaffas, they actually seem to use their brain as well. I’m not sure what to make of their technology - on one hand they’ve only just discovered naquadah, subspace theory and the possibility of faster-than-light travel, but on the other hand, they already use high-powered energy weapons and have learned to produce and harness anti-matter”
“That, and they’re obviously farther along in genetic engineering” the spy commented. “My service ran a quick test on the DNA traces we recovered from them and I received the results before I came here. It confirms what they told us. The DNA from the soldiers has more chromosomes than the civilian’s, if you could believe that !”
The look on his interlocutors was one of genuine surprise.
“Is there a possibility they were always a separate species ?”
“No” the intelligence chief shook his head “it’s only a quick surface analysis, but according to my technicians, the genetic code is clearly a construct”
“Any way to know what the modifications do ?”
Another snort came from the spymaster. “Hardly. Our understanding of genetics doesn’t reach that far. A whole DNA ? Especially a manufactured one ? Not unless we got help from the Nox and that’s not their policy.”
All three men reflected on the fact. While Tolla had made great strides in the comprehension of the universe’s laws, aided in no small part by their reverse-engineering of ancient artifacts recovered from eons-old ruins, the living was another thing. Tollan science comparatively lacked in this area, although it was by no means primitive. After all, most illnesses were readily cured save a few rare ones, and Tollans generally lived long fruitful lives, often reaching over a century. Yet the Drakas were ahead. They even pretended that the unfortunate Renim’s could be made whole again, without artificial prosthetics.
“Well, at least they didn’t seem the least shocked that Tolla had conquered other worlds in the past” Aurelim commented a moment later. “That’s refreshing, after dealing with the Nox and Hebrideans” The latter nation’s mixed-species society had a rather dim view of imperialism, and told the Tollan representatives so when offered a defensive alliance against the System Lords. Relations were traditionally cool, though not hostile, between the two polities. The Hebridean Republic was content to rely on its own substantial war fleet to deter Goau’ld velleities of conquest.
The Draka representatives, for their part, had accepted it as if it were the most natural thing in the world, barely raising a comment. They’d appeared similarly unfazed when Aurelim had, a little reluctantly, explained in diplomatic terms how the colonies used to have a different legal status until every subject of the Empire became free citizens forty years earlier. According to their own explanation, such differences in personal status were not unknown on their home world, as they personally belonged to a “warrior caste” of sorts that took precedence over the rest of their society in exchange for leadership and protection. Which sounded a tad curious, given that Daniel Jackson wasn’t a soldier by trade but a scholar of ancient history, until he’d made clear that he was considered the equivalent of a reservist.
In any case, the whole business hadn’t made them any reluctant to pursue future relations with the Empire, which, to Administrator Aurelim’s opinion, could only have positive consequences.
He rose up and addressed Katallax.
“Well, Commander, thanks for your time. And I may use your services again soon.”
The soldier saluted and left the office, glancing on the way out at the decidedly attractive secretary outside. Hey, if I didn’t fear Erina’s wrath more than a squad of Kull Warriors, I’d definitely make a pass.
After the door had closed again, the chief diplomat turned to the Intelligence chief, who had left his seat in the same fashion.
“So, Director Tresim. May I expect your cooperation on this or are you going to expound your professional paranoia to the Curia ?”
“Not if you agree to have one of my men in the delegation you intend to send”
“Director, you can’t seriously advocate having one of your agents running around and spying on our potential allies ! Especially in a first exchange !” Aurelim protested. “What if he were caught snooping around ? Phase-shifting doesn’t make you invisible !”
“I can assure you, Administrator, that phase-shifting isn’t the only trick my people have. And whoever I’ll send will be among my best, I promise you” the spy countered in a conciliatory tone, spreading his hands in a gesture of appeasement. His interlocutor appeared slightly mollified, but not entirely satisfied. Tresim gave a small shrug and turned to leave.
“You’d better be right about this, Director Tresim.” The diplomat shot at the spy’s back, making him pause ever-so-briefly at the door’s edge. I hope too, was the thought in the retreating man’s mind.
“Tollan recognition codes received, Centurion”
Alan MacDonald nodded at the operator inside the command bunker. Right on time.
“Make sure the automated defenses are on standby. We don’t want our guests to suffer any mischief, do we ?”
The other soldier sniggered. “If you ask me, Centurion, they’re just Yoke-fodder”
MacDonald laughed, a short guttural sound. “Yes, but they’re not supposed to know it yet !”
Inside the fortified ring, a Citizen tetrarchy in battle-armor stood on two ranks perpendicular to the active gate, while an entire century of similarly armored ghouloons formed a circle around it. They all made for an intimidating welcome committee.
Seconds later, the delegation from the Tollan Empire stepped out of the shimmering blue wall and came face to face with their Draka counterparts. As the wormhole dissipated, the Cohortarch in command of the assembled troops barked a harsh “Ten shun !”, and a hundred forty heavy boots shook the packed ground thunderously. A second later, the “Present - arms !” order boomed in the enclosure, and the sharp clacks of rifles being brought to the present position echoed in unison.
Only then did Polignac speak.
“Welcome to Abydos”
“Merarch” Commander Katallax of the Imperial Tollan Navy (Ground Force) answered, stepped in front of the Draka officer and offered a raised arm and clicking heels salute. Sweeping his professional gaze over the assembled troops, he commented “Your soldiers look impressive, allow me to say. I suppose those” glancing at the nearest ghouloons “are the specially engineered shock troopers you mentioned ?”
“Indeed they are. Part of this facility’s garrison, utterly loyal and fearless soldiers” Anton mentioned, allowing some of the pride he felt at the Race’s accomplishment to shine through. Sounds a lot like Jaffas, the Tollan reflected. But more impressive.
“Allow me to introduce the rest of our delegation” he gestured towards his companions, who had just stopped visually inspecting the arrayed soldiery.
“You already know Administrator Elledia” the brunette diplomat had sensibly exchanged her expensive dress for a more travel-friendly cream-colored long-sleeved tunic with silver highlights over matching pants and brown leather boots. Daniel Jackson’s eyes caught hers and he telegraphed his own welcoming smile. He was pleased to see it returned. It bode well for his plans.
Katallax designated the next envoy, a middle-aged balding man in the same executive-looking suit apparently favored by Tollan officials, obviously tailored so as to conceal a stomach that was no longer flat : “This is Legate Agathes.”
The man stepped forward and offered his extended hand to Anton and Daniel in succession. Although both Drakas restrained their pressure, it still felt very firm to the Tollan, yet to his credit he didn’t show a sign of discomfort, keeping his eyes straight.
“I’m the Curia’s special emissary, with temporary ambassador rank, which allows me to negotiate official agreements” he explained. “Naturally, those have to be ratified by the Curia to become binding”
“Of course” Anton replied politely.
“And this is my aide, Derrim”
The man in question was younger and fitter, with a air of focused professionalism. He looks remarkably at ease. He must be the spook, was Anton’s instinctive evaluation. At least if the Tollan play the game as everyone used to do on Earth before the Final War, he corrected himself. Derrim similarly shook hands with the two Drakas, and the Merarch allowed himself to press just a little stronger and longer, gauging the other man’s reaction. His eyes remained dispassionate, but the fingers pressed almost imperceptibly tighter in reply. Anton released his hold. There was no point crushing the Tollan’s hand, which he could do easily enough.
Rounding up the party were two Imperial Navy’s servicemen in anthracite duty uniform, a dull silver pistol-looking weapon on synthetic belt holsters, wearing nondescript backpacks and pulling each a floating cart loaded with the delegation’s impedimenta. The counter-gravity sustained devices drew a few curious stares from the present Drakas, who had also noticed the sleek devices worn by the Tollans on their arms. Those had to be wearable perscomps or communicators of sorts.
All moved out of the gate’s immediate vicinity as it began to spin again, the absence of a Gate Dialing Keyboard and the occulting shroud on the circle’s symbols making it impossible to guess the coordinates, a fact the Tollans noted with amusement. They didn’t have to see them. The subspace beacon they brought along would mark their position in case it was needed, as well as relay any emergency message. In case things went very wrong, at least Tolla would know about it, even if sheer distance made a rescue impossible. But such a scenario was deemed unlikely.
The connexion was established, and the two Drakas led the way, gesturing for the guests to follow. “Be advised gravity’s lower on the other side” Anton notified them before he disappeared through the water-like event horizon.
They emerged in the familiar spacious confines of Dante Base’s gate room, where another honor guard waited for the following travelers. All of them negotiated the transition to Luna’s light gravity without a hitch, and the floating carts didn’t dart up, which indicated they were sensibly designed to detect and adapt to local conditions.
“And welcome to Luna” the Draka officer beamed.
“I feel… lighter” Elledia commented, jumping in place with the strength of her calves alone. It was strange how it took a trip to a place where synthetic gravity wasn’t in wide use yet. In the Empire, gravity was corrected everywhere to match Tolla’s standard pull. As a result, something as simple as what she was doing now hardly ever happened to most citizens unless they ventured themselves in the wilderness.
“Our moon’s gravitation pull is a sixth of Terra’s” Anton explained for the Tollans’ benefit. “If you stayed more than a week, you’d have to take a medical booster-pack to prevent bone and muscle degradation”
“You actually developed medicine to counteract the effects of microgravity ?” Agathes inserted in the exchange.
“We had to. We couldn’t use centrifugal gravity everywhere. We’re not too far from producing workable gravity field generator, though, with input from our Goau’ld captive”
“Interesting.” If they’re on their way, we might as well help them and get something in return, the Legate reflected. One item for the future talks.
“So you put your stargate on a satellite of your world” Katallax observed as the delegation was led through the concrete corridors towards the vehicle airlock. “Sensible precaution, all things considered”
“Yes, we deliberately put it in a remote location, just in case the Goau’ld try to rush through. But” the Draka grinned “we’re certainly going to copy your shield concept, even if we have to use a more substantial barrier”
The Tollan commander chuckled. “Good idea, although the Nox will berate you if they hear of it”
“Why so ? They’re those isolationist aliens, right ?”
“Precisely, but their point is, putting a shield in front of a stargate pretty much ensures that accidents will happen. Innocent travelers getting splattered on it because they didn’t transmit an identification code”
“I see” Anton. Well, tough luck for them. Katallax seemed to guess his thoughts, as he went on : “It’s not nice to the primitives who use the stargate network to trade, at least until the word gets through, but in times of war…” He shrugged, to which replied with an understanding nod.
In the meantime, Daniel Jackson had maneuvered his way next to Administrator Elledia and was working his charm on her person.
“You know, low gravity has all sorts of fun applications” he mentioned in a light conversational tone.
“I’m sure it does, Scholar Jackson” the reply came with a batting of her brown eyes and a hint of mischievousness in her silky voice.
“Please, call me Daniel. Scholar Jackson is so formal !”
The foreign woman grinned and patted his arm. “Daniel, then” Loki’s stone cock ! She’s as good as fucked already, he smugly reflected, careful not to betray his thoughts by a leery expression.
“I’m sure you’ll love body flying. It’s one of Nova Virconium’s main attractions” he went on, drawing a curious look from her.
“Really ? What is it ?”
“You wear a pair of light-weight wings and you glide, or actually fly, inside a domed crater. It’s fabulous” he explained “and usually followed by a sauna and massage.”
“Sauna ? I don’t know this word”
“Ah, it’s a simple thing. It’s a room where the air is very hot and and humid. Makes you sweat all the toxins” he elaborated, keeping out the customary nakedness.
“I see. We have a similar thing on Tolla, in the public baths” This meeting's shaping up really well, was the last thought on Daniel’s mind as the group reached the complex’s main vehicular airlock. Until now, there hadn’t been a human serf in open sight. That, the Drakas knew, would be the real test. The Tollans appeared a bit too tolerant for their own ultimate good, but their reaction when confronted to the Domination’s “caste” system would tell whether the Race could worm its way into The Empire’s beating heart, or whether it would have to fight an adversary it wasn’t quite prepared to. A big gamble, but the Domination’s history was made of such.
The five-minute trip to Complex A was, as usual, uneventful. The Tollans asked questions about the maglev car, and the suborbital shuttles parked on the landing pads. Whereas those were as crude, compared to the counter-grav vehicles in Tollan service, as a 19th century steamcar would look next to a Domination’s modern aircar, they spoke of a high level of engineering and design expertise. So far, the Tollan delegation was impressed by the hardware and the people they saw, and the facilities were spotless.
Complex A, while retaining a no-nonsense, military look, was nevertheless different in atmosphere. Greater though had clearly been given to interior decorating, as the visitors noticed right after they stepped through the main airlock. Instead of drab naked grey ceracrete, the walls were painted in a two-tone pastel combinations, and artistic murals enlightened the corridors at regular intervals. The works of art seemed out of place in a military facility, even if they depicted starships and stations and exotic planetary vistas.
The group stopped at an intersection.
“Commander, I suppose you’d like to see your wounded man as soon as possible ?”
“Well, certainly, Merarch” Katallax answered. “If that would be convenient…?” he inquired the rest of the delegation.
“Go ahead, Commander. We’ll settle in our quarters in the meantime” Agathes underlined his approval with a nod.
Polignac and his Tollan counterpart broke of toward the medical wing, while Daniel Jackson led the rest toward the guest quarters.
“By the gods, what have they done to him !” were the Imperial’s first uttered words as he finally got a glimpse at Renim’s grotesquely altered shape through the transparent partition overlooking the intensive car ward.
“It’s really as bad as we told you” Anton observed in a sympathetic tone. Even though the man was technically a feral, a non-Draka, he could relate to the emotions Katallax was certainly experiencing right now. They watched silently as two orderlies finished the daily task of cleaning and renewing the dressings and took blood samples that would be analyzed to help adjust the regeneration treatment.
“Can I talk to him ?”
“Of course. You’ll need to wear sterile coveralls, but there’s no reason why you couldn’t enter. He certainly will be elated at hearing a compatriot.”
Five minutes later, the Commander was standing close to the patient’s bed.
“Officer Renim” he began, “I’m Commander Katallax, 17th Ground Force Regiment. Can you hear me ?
The lying wreck of a man stirred and moved his head to face the direction the words had come from. At last, a Tollan voice ! The Drakas had made good their promise, he would hear and see his people again ! He had no words to express the joy he felt. It was as if another breach was made in the prison his mind was stuck into, his useless body and unseeing eyes. More than the doctor’s promise of recovery, this made it tangible. He wasn’t abandoned. Tolla was still out there. He opened his mouth to answer in his mother tongue.
“Commander” he articulated, talking no longer an effort in his elated state “you can’t imagine how it feels to hear you !”
“I can only try, Officer, and I can’t tell you how impressed I am by your courage. What you’ve been through…” he trailed, unwilling to put words on the graphic reality.
Renim’s lips stretched into a tight smile.
“It was hard” he admitted freely, “but it seems the worst part is over now”, he bravely finished, drawing a chuckle from Katallax.
“The Drakas told me they were repairing the damage to your body”
“Yes, unbelievable as it sounds - although it’s not as quick and easy as a Goau’ld sarcophagus” Renim managed to joke. “It feels itchy most of the time, like small bugs crawling under the skin. Drives me half-mad, I ask the nurse to scratch me and she tells me she can’t. I’ll just have to endure it until it’s over” he finished stoically.
“They told me you’d be able to see again in one month, but your arms and legs will take longer”
“Yes, about a year, although I’ll be able to start using them before”
“Long time”
“Beats staying in this shape until I die, Sir.”
He didn’t comment aloud that the perspective of eventually making love to Apollonia again made it worth every discomfort and inconvenience in the meantime, but Katallax must have read his bio and thought the same, as he gently cleared his throat and added “Your wife was notified of your survival, by the way. Needless to say, she’s impatient for your return.” He was pleased to see the wounded man relax with a blissful smile, which however dissipated after a silent moment to leave an air of worry.
“Sir, the war… how is it going ? Did we push the Goau’ld back ?”
Katallax winced, fortunately unseen. There was no need to tell Renim the full truth. He didn’t need any more concerns.
“The Empire’s still strong. That wannabe god bit more than he could chew” he answered in a confident tone that managed to dissipate Renim’s nervous look.
“Now you need to rest” he concluded, putting his hand on the reclining patient’s shoulder, just over the bandaged stump, and squeezing gently. “and get your strength back. I’ll visit you again later”
The younger man sighed softly.
“It feels so good to know you’ve come for me” had let out dreamily, to which the senior officer replied with a last squeeze.
“Hold on, son. You’re going home, I promise.”
The recently completed guest quarters were set into the crater’s inner wall, so as to compliment their occupants with an exterior view. The wide transparent bays were thick and self-polarizing, with automatic armored shutters to protect them in case of emergency, but they still made for a nicer atmosphere than a completely buried suite such as most of the base’s Citizen personnel occupied. Complex A was continuously growing and burrowing through the rock to accommodate more troops and researchers as well as the necessary serf personnel.
The Tollan delegation was to occupy five connecting apartments, Legate Agathes getting the largest as befitted his senior position, and the two soldiers sharing the smaller, which was still more spacious and luxuriously appointed than their Navy quarters. Of course, they didn’t know that those apartments had been designed with Draka guests in mind, as the idea of foreign humans being welcomed in Domination territory as anything else than new slaves had until recently seemed ludicrous at best, traitorous at worst.
Even Agathes, a veteran of galactic diplomacy (as such things went anyway) had to admit those guest quarters were lavishly appointed, even if the decoration had a certain exuberance - as compared to the more subdued Tollan style - that made his eyes water. Especially the colorful paintings whose subjects leant heavily toward battle scenes and assorted martial representations, with true-to-life blood and gore, along with a smattering of scantily clad females in lascivious poses.
His own reaction was rather bemused. Elledia’s was a blush. Derrim’s was his customary impenetrable face. The two servicemen were enthusiastic.
“This is quite a place” Elledia commented, taking in her new surroundings, from the giant bed to the colorful Persian rugs and expensive furniture. Outside, the crater’s dark expanse was dotted with the scattered lights marking the maglev line and shuttle terminals. The sky was black with unrecognizable constellations.
Daniel stood to her side, looking through the bay. “You should see Aresopolis, our city on the system’s fourth planet. It’s a lot more spectacular place than this”
“Aresopolis” the woman articulated the name with curiosity. “The word sounds… familiar somehow” Naturally, the Tollan language obviously draws from Latin and Greek among its main roots, the scholar reflected. But mentioning this would also reveal the fact that Earth was a scattered humanity’s home-world. Something the Tollans weren’t cleared to learn yet, as it would undoubtedly make them even more curious.
“I suppose the galaxy’s human populations must share distant origins” he ventured cautiously, and Elledia turned to face him with a look of interest.
“That what our historians think. We know that our species isn’t native to Tolla, and the System Lords have displaced human slave populations for thousands of years. But we don’t know whether mankind has evolved on a single original planet, or whether the Ancients seeded our ancestors around the whole galaxy”
“An intriguing idea” Daniel responded thoughtfully. “You have mentioned those Ancients before, and I must admit that you made me curious” Which was all too true. The hints he’d gotten already could revolutionize the established history of mankind, something that tremendously piqued his intellectual curiosity.
“Well, I’m not a specialist, but from what Tollan historians could research, the Ancients were an incredibly old and advanced species that disappeared tens of thousands of years ago. It is said that the early Goau’ld copied Ancient technology, which enabled them to establish their domination on most of the galaxy. Mind you, most of this comes from hints and allusions dropped by the Nox, and they tend to verge on the obscure and elliptical” she finished with a derisive grin.
“Fascinating” Daniel commented truthfully. “I’m looking forward to learning more about all this, but I suppose you want to settle and unpack first ?”
“Well, yes, and I’ll have to consult with Legate Agathes. I suppose he won’t need me for the whole talks, so I’ll have time to try that wing-flying you told me about ?” her intent shone in her smile and eyes confidently raised to Jackson’s.
“I hope so” The Draka had to make a conscious effort to keep his own grin from appearing entirely too predatory, and left the room with very pleasant visions swimming inside his head.
“So, what’s the program for today ?”
Katallax was standing in the doorway connecting his suite with the Legate’s. It was technically morning, according to the local timetable, and a new day of talks was to begin. At least for Agathes. He was the diplomatic envoy after all, and he would spend most of the day cooped in a conference room with his local fellows. Pleasant people, in his opinion, with sharp wits although they lacked his experience at managing interstellar diplomatic exchanges. On the other hand, he had to admit they possessed a physical presence that no sane practitioner of the art of foreign relations, with their seemingly endless rounds of sitting on a chair and sipping recreational beverages, should display.
More than the obvious caste distinction, which although quaint wasn’t totally unknown in the galaxy (even apart from the notorious Goau’ld), it was the general level of physical fitness that amazed him. Having mandatory martial training was one thing. But the Drakas were the only culture he knew in which it was taken to such universal and almost frightening proportions. His two counterparts looked fitter than Imperial Navy Ground Force troops, and acted with the quiet confidence that marked them as professional killers. Yet they were negotiators, not active duty soldiers.
Naturally, he had to assume that he could only see a limited sample of Drakan population, one that was, given the context, skewed toward the military side. Well, in the future he’d certainly have the opportunity to experience the wider aspects of the host society. What mattered now was establishing whether they could be of help to the Tollan Empire.
The Legate picked up his jacket on the nearby seat. Thanks to the self-cleaning properties of the fabric, he didn’t have to worry about laundry for the duration of his stay.
“Talks related to transfers of basic technology, subspace communications, artificial gravity and inertial compensation, in exchange for biomedical science - life-prolonging treatments, cures for various untreatable cancers, genetic screening, things like that” he answered the Commander, who nodded calmly, leaning against the hatch frame. After a couple seconds, Katallax shook his head and chuckled ruefully.
“You know, I’m slightly surprised the Curia actually considers such - especially so quickly after first contact. Granted, the Drakas have impressive biotech, but…”
Agathes made a little sly smile.
“I know, but the circumstances are different. They already know the theory for those - from their Goau’ld prisoner. I saw the files, they’re sound and true. So there’s no question that they’ll eventually deploy practical applications, it’s only a matter of time.” He flicked his wrist for emphasis. “But our help can significantly reduce that time for them. Something they know, and after the first Goau’ld attack on their world, I’m sure they’re eager to start deploying vessels that wouldn’t be swatted like flies by a lone marauding Al’kesh.”
He didn’t need to elaborate on things the Drakas weren’t supposed to know. Like how the Tollan Navy’s own warships could only hold off an upgraded Ha’tak when in numerical superiority.
“What about you, Commander ? Hanging out with the Merarch ?” The question was rhetorical, of course. Katallax represented the military side of the Tollan delegation, and he was officially tasked with assessing Draka military capabilities. This meant formally reviewing their hardware and training, as well as informally “getting a feel” of his counterparts, since the formal side would most likely involve only the parts their hosts were most comfortable showing.
He nodded in acquiescence. “I’ll be witnessing assault exercises in vacuum, on the moon’s surface and on orbital installations. The Merarch promised I’d get to try one of their armored exoskeletons” he ended with a sly smile of his own.
“Really ?” Agathes raised an eyebrow as he fiddled with the clasps of his arm-mounted info-terminal. “I’m sure you’ll have fun with that”
The gleam in the officer’s eye was telling. Like a child trying a new shiny toy, Agathes mused silently. The man’s interest was understandable. The Tollan Empire, by virtue of its orbital dominance, hadn’t needed to put as much emphasis on its ground force’s equipment as the largely planet-bound Drakas had. Well, to be accurate, there had been a time when Tollan armies were more impressive, back when space travel was still a “lost” knowledge and the disunited states of Tolla fought each other, more than four centuries ago.
In contrast, the local planetary unification had only just happened, from what he’d caught of Terran history, therefore the higher ground-side specialization and relative sophistication.
Another factor, which the Tollan were carefully hiding for the moment, was the impact of phase-shifting technology on ground combat. Quite literally, it enabled Imperial soldiers to walk through armor and fortifications. It was a huge cheat, Katallax reflected, and reliance on it had certainly made them more complacent than they should be. And now it was biting them in the ass when it came to facing the new model Goau’ld.
Both men’s silent musings were interrupted by the quiet sound of a door sliding open, the one that connected Agathes’ suite with the female Administrator’s. They glanced in the noise’s direction and returned her greeting hand wave.
“Commander, Legate”
“Administrator” Agathes returned, “You look good today” he added courteously.
“Thank you, Legate” her answer was courteous enough, with a hint of playful coquetry, after which she went on in a more serious, work-like tone. “Are you sure that you won’t need my presence during the talks ?”
He shook his head. “I commend you for your concern, but I can hold myself” he grinned. “You have your own mission anyway, one that’s arguably less boring than sitting in a conference room all day”
Despite her belonging to the Diplomatic Service, her task was less participating in the official negotiations than learning more about Drakan society and customs, mirroring Katallax’ focus, but on the civilian side. As far as the “civilian” adjective applied anyway in this peculiar culture, with its martial aristocratic elite.
More to the point, she was to investigate the Drakan caste system and the way Citizens and Serfs interacted. So far, what they’d glimpsed seemed a relatively harmonious, if inegalitarian, relationship. Certainly not how the System Lords were renowned for treating their underlings. And truth be told, while the whole class distinction could seem old-fashioned to modern Tollan eyes, there had been a not-so-distant time when the Empire had treated conquered people in a superior and condescending way, rationalizing it with arguments such as “they’re backward, dirty savages anyway”. Such prejudice was still alive nowadays, albeit in a restricted and watered-down way, something most people were ashamed of admitting.
Elledia repressed a smirk. Her day was indeed likely to be anything but boring.
“Then I’ll be visiting this moon’s capital” she announced, keeping her face neutral and her gaze away from her compatriots’.
“With Daniel Jackson as a guide, obviously” Agathes commented innocently, and she returned an innocent stare of her own.
“Well yes, obviously. He can translate their language for me”
“Yes, he appears to be an expert linguist, doesn’t he ?”
Elledia frowned minutely. Was it an impression or had the Legate put a tiny emphasis on “linguist”, with the word’s obvious connotation to the tongue ? Ah well. Men, she sighed mentally and voiced a studiously oblivious response.
“He does have an impressive command of our language, given his very recent exposure to it. In contrast, I’m barely able to recognize scattered words from our hosts’ speech”
The later remark was intended as much for her interlocutors as for the Draka intelligence personnel who were almost certainly listening. The tiny disguised microphones were cleverly hidden, but the two soldiers included in the Tollan delegation had scanned the suites as soon as they’d settled in. It was routine, and finding surveillance devices (of varying degrees of sophistication according to the local nation’s technological level) was routine too. It was part of the game, and they were used to work around it.
“Actually, I’ll head out now. The sooner we’re on our way…” she trailed and made a languid gesture with her upturned palm.
“All right” Agathes returned with a hand raised in agreement. “Have a good day, Administrator”. He watched as she nodded in acknowledgement and left the room, the hatch closing after her, then glanced at the Commander. Their eyes met in silent reflection of each other’s thoughts. Unmarried Tollan women weren’t supposed to be chaste after all. And the mutual attraction between Elledia and the Draka scholar wasn’t exactly unnoticeable. Well, she was still an experienced professional. She’d know better than letting her lust override her discretion, and Daniel Jackson’s attraction to her could in return provide opportunities.
As it happened, the Tollans were soon engrossed in their respective endeavors, Agathes and his aide in the conference room and Katallax in the base’s armory, where he started with a satisfactory shooting session in the adjoining range. Drakan chemical-fired weapons were a throwback to ancient times, but he had to admit they were more fun in a loud, brutal way, than ion-bolt rifles.
His subordinates were similarly mingling with (selected) Draka counterparts, but had the sense to decline a (half-serious) offer to spar in hand to hand combat, after witnessing a pankration bout involving two female soldiers of all things. The fast and brutal exchange had suitably impressed them, and they consoled their slightly bruised ego with the fact that both women were genetically enhanced far over a normal human level. Nevertheless, they set to learn some of the moves, which after two hours of practice only brought barely hidden condescending expressions from their Draka instructors (who, to add insult to injury, didn’t appear the slightest bit winded).
Elledia and Daniel Jackson had flown (or rather boosted away) on a shuttle. The short orbital flight was another experience for the Tollan woman. First, the shuttle itself, whose chemical thrusters and utterly inexistent inertial compensator contrasted with the sensation-less vehicles she was used to. And apparently the pilot had deliberately opted for a rather virile initial boost, no doubt to impress the foreign visitor. Well she had been impressed. Rather forcefully. In her seat, held in place by the very unfamiliar feeling of her own body weighting a lot more than it should (and did in the moon’s natural low gravity). Fortunately it had been short, and she could resume breathing before she’d beaten her personal apnea record.
Then the small vessel had crested the horizon and she got her first view of the Draka home world in its distant blue-white majesty. This event she wasn’t unfamiliar with, she’d seen planets from above several times before, including the Imperial core worlds Tolla and Serita. She could also glimpse the glittering orbital infrastructure in orbit. In terms of sheer size and number of visible installation, it appeared very decent for a civilization that didn’t even use anti-gravity, although it came distant to the sheer size of her home system’s larger artificial structures.
“Your people appear to use stellar power extensively” she commented to her escort, who was sitting on the other side of the central aisle and looking through his side’s ovoid viewport. He turned in her direction.
“Among other energy sources, yes. It’s basically free once you have fabricators in orbit and easy access to raw material. Along with nuclear fusion it constitutes the largest share of our total energy expenditure”
Elledia didn’t reply, pondering Daniel’s answer. The Empire had to be far ahead in terms of power generation thanks to its harnessing zero-point energy. A single (albeit large) power station on each core world provided all the energy they needed, which made things much simpler.
Eventually, the shuttle landed near the trip’s first destination, the domed crater of Nova Virconium’s main recreation center, the aptly-named Soaring Gardens. It was located at the sprawling city’s periphery, and was an entirely civilian facility. Therefore, it had luckily escaped destruction in the Final War, a fact everyone who had tasted its activities was grateful for. From above, it looked like a domed bowl of green and blue, a vegetal oasis of life in an otherwise mineral lifeless world, one kilometer in diameter and two hundred meters deep in average. Rapid-growing trees made up its vertical landscape, spaced enough to provide clear flying trajectories for the visitors who launched themselves from elevated wood platforms on top and swooped above the gravel paths and water pools dotting the ground, supported by light gossamer wings.
“Oh ! That’s beautiful !” Elledia exclaimed as the shuttlecraft’s initial overflight gave her a bird’s eye view of the artificial park. She was impressed not only by the material feat it constituted, but also by the factual testimony to her hosts’ dedication to beauty and pleasure. Reconstituting a natural environment on an airless moon was a feat few civilizations bothered with, even those who had superior technology than the locals possessed. After all, with modern spacecraft, hopping down to an habitable planet was quick and easy. There was no need to replicate a part of the planet’s natural environment.
Well, the lack of need elsewhere was understandable, but Elledia had to admit necessity had produced a remarkable result here.
“Trees grow fast and tall here” Daniel commented. “And we Drakas love greenery”
“What about light and radiation ? And how do you keep your domes from getting damaged by asteroids ?”
“Well, the cover material is a lightweight gel held in place by atmospheric pressure and a geodesic support frame. It filters excess radiation, and there’s a reflector in orbit for the times when the dome’s not directly illuminated by the sun. As for asteroid damage… it’s very resilient to micro-impacts, and anything bigger‘s taken care of by perimeter defense”
“I see” the woman trailed thoughtfully. Lack of force-field technology didn’t prevent the Drakas from building large vacuum structures and habitats. Another little fact to file away for her superiors.
Twenty minutes later, she was standing on top of a soaring platform, a hundred meters above the ground, while servants finished fitting Jackson and her with their wings. These were attached to a body harness, along with leg fins, and were currently retracted so as not to unduly restrict their movements. Daniel was translating the operating instructions for her.
“When you’re ready to fly off, press this button” he pointed to the small flat control box on the inside of his wrist “and your wings will deploy automatically”
He demonstrated for effect, activating the command then stretching his arms aside. Excited by a small electric current, the memory metal forming the structure unfolded like a giant bat-wing origami, deploying their full translucent span. In this position, they were indeed an unwieldy thing to carry on the ground. When they were completely extended, he flexed them carefully to show Elledia.
“The kinematics are limited by the harness, so you don’t have to worry about achieving the perfect movement. If you don’t do anything, the wings will simply remain in the best gliding position. It’s very safe, really, you don’t have to worry about crashing,” he told reassuringly, but the sheer drop was still impressive under their feet. Reduced gravity or not, the human brain wasn’t programmed for jumping in empty air, and the Tollan woman teetered carefully to the edge of the platform. There were already flyers in the air, Draka Citizens from their athletic looks, and again she felt slightly-self-conscious of her own body in comparison. Especially since in a full-body flying suit whose sheer stretchiness didn’t leave much to guess. She’d carefully avoided ogling , but she wasn’t certain her guide hadn’t. Ah well, when in town, do as the town-folks, as the old saying went.
She deployed her own wings and flexed her arms to try their range of movement. It really did feel like being a bird, she mused, then her eyes grew wide as Daniel grinned at her and jumped off. He didn’t fall like a stone as her unfamiliar brain half-expected him to, instead dove to gain speed then swooped up with powerful arm strokes. In a few seconds he was back at the platform level and circling around.
“Come on ! See ? It’s easy !” his shouted invitation brought her some more courage, and with a deep breath she sprang out, as if she was at the swimming pool. She resisted the urge to shut her eyes, focusing solely on bringing her body in the best gliding posture, and seconds later she remembered to breath again, marveling in the fact she was actually flying instead of tumbling down to the ground below. Nevertheless, she’d already lost a fair amount of altitude and trees were coming up fast in her field of vision. The corrective movement came instinctively. She flexed and pulled, straining her chest in a series of wing strokes, and tentatively banked into a gentle climbing curve. She found herself in control of her flight, realization at last coming to her elated mind. She was soaring like a bird, air rushing at her face and grinning without any self-restraint. She didn’t notice her own whooping cries of glee, all her attention instead on the actual feeling of pure freedom she was experiencing.
She overflew the winding white gravel paths, green grassy patches and vegetal beds encircling the central pool with its complicated blue shape. She could see the small islands dotting the interior and the low bridges linking them to the shores, and… Oh my, those people are making love ! her mind processed the sight with a mixture of shock and embarrassment and she turned away, blushing furiously, leaving the shameless scene behind.
Where was Daniel Jackson anyway ? she asked herself with a little irritation she wasn’t sure was directed at the frolicking people down there or at her own offended sense of modesty.
She tried to scan around herself, banking left and right to increase her field of vision. Fortunately, the flyers were scattered enough that she didn’t have to worry about hitting another one. Which was good for her in more ways than she thought, as an offended Draka would strike her down instinctively, even before he remarked the serf-like physique and lack of a neck-tattoo that would usually identify her as a metic citizen.
Of course, any unfortunate encounter would also be managed very quickly by the Security Directorate agents watching her like so many hawks, as much for her protection as to make sure she didn’t get any funny ideas.
She almost jumped out of her suit when Jackson slashed the air next to her, wings swept back and diving like a hawk upon its prey, a flash of grinning white teeth and golden-grey streaming hair. Trying to play games, eh ? She bit her lip with resolution and dove after him. However, she quickly realized how stronger he was, as she vainly tried to chase his effortlessly evading shape. And more experienced. She didn’t dare graze the tree-tops as he recklessly did, or roll inverted and dive away with a laugh.
Yet despite the small frustration, she felt free, alive and energetic as she rarely ever felt before. This experience was amazing. It beat the relatively banal thrills of zero-gee one could experience in specialty locations on Tolla. How come her people hadn’t thought of something similar ? It was the pervasiveness of synthetic gravity, she reflected. It made them forget the possibilities that the Drakas had embraced despite or rather, thanks to their arguably inferior technology.
At length the friendly race ended as Daniel realized she was trailing lazily behind and circled back to fly alongside her.
“Tired ?”
She smiled back in admission and shouted back.
“Yes !”
He nodded. That wasn’t unsurprising, she was far from a Draka’s level of fitness, and her muscles wouldn’t be used to the motions of wing-flying. He made a “follow-me” movement with his head.
“Come on, we’ll land !”
Normally, landing was a more tricky procedure than jumping off a soaring platform. Ploughing down face first on the ground wouldn’t hurt too much, at least not in the physical sense, but there was fortunately another way of doing it when you were a beginner and the Draka demonstrated it, gliding down to a splashing halt in the water. Before he had time to splutter, a pair of serfs waded in and helped him upright so he could retract the ungainly wings and wave at the Tollan still circling above.
Elledia watched him, took a deep breath, and plunged, slowing down as much as she could over the surface before she deliberately splashed face-first in the water. It was as well the attendants were there, for trying to move her arms in the water was nearly impossible. She doubted she would have drowned given the shallow depth, but she was still relieved when the two helpful men pulled her out, before bowing and stepping back respectfully.
“It’s nice to have servants” she caught herself observing aloud. Her guide made a bemused face, then laughed as if it were the funniest thing in the world. Which, in a sense, it was, but not for the reasons she imagined.
“Yes, yes, is it not ?” he chuckled back, clearly amused. The Tollan’s… oblivious naïveté was all the more entertaining, considering how she and her people were fated for the same condition. Eventually.
“Let me help you with that” he added, pointing to her fumbling with the now-useless wing harness.
Elledia stood still, arms outstretched, while he expertly removed the clasps keeping the assemblage attached to her already dry body-glove. He didn’t try to touch her inappropriately… yet his closeness brought another warm feeling to her and she fought back a blush. Damn it, she wasn’t a teenager any more !
She put a confident smile on her lips and planted her hands on her hips.
“So, what now ? More exotic and breathtaking Draka customs ?”
“Depends whether you’d call unwinding exotic and breathtaking” he chortled back and stretched languidly. “Let’s head to the main recreation block” he offered and stood aside, arm pointing away in an invitation to go.
Leaving the discarded wings for the attendants to pick up, they bouncingly made their way to the low regolith-and-wood building standing close to the shore, with a stilted terrace over the water where scattered patrons, Citizens and their intimate serfs, lounged under sun and Earth light. A secluded table waited for the pair, where they’d be far enough from other Drakas, at least those who weren’t SD personnel pretending to be ordinary patrons.
“Tell me, Daniel, how long did it take your people to build this ?” Elledia asked over the colorful drink that contained as much sugar as alcohol, although the former hid the later.
“Two years from first dig to opening, though it took longer for the trees to reach their current height.”
“Hmmm. Well, I’ll say it again, it’s impressive”
“For people who don’t have the fancy space technology you’ve been bragging to us about ?” Jackson chided her, getting a apologetic laugh in answer.
“I wouldn’t dare think that…” she started mischievously, before her expression relaxed into neutral seriousness. “Despite your lack of certain technologies we’re used to taking for granted, your people do seem very resourceful. I think, without betraying any secret, that an agreement between our nations is very possible. They both have things the other lacks”
Across the teak table, the Draka nodded.
“I’m sure they do. Personally, I’m looking forward to knowing you more” he stated with an utterly straight face. It helped that in the Goau’ld dialect, the translation of “you” had the same level of ambiguity as it did in English.
“Well, so do I, as an administrator in the Imperial diplomatic service…” she left her other, less strictly professional thoughts unsaid. While she was mature enough to face her attraction for the handsome man in front of her, it wouldn’t do to look unduly weak, she reasoned.
If only those skinsuits weren’t so tight ! Ah well. Everyone else wore the same, it wasn’t as if she should feel unique. Everyone but the servants, she corrected herself. Not that their clothing was any less modest as a rule, but then it usually complimented them. She had to wonder…
“Tell me, Daniel, are all the serfs so well-treated ?” she made an encompassing gesture, “Here I see them looking happy and well-fed, but how should I know the Drakas are better than the Goau’ld ?” Oh damn, this came out a lot more bluntly than I intended. But I need to know. The Empire needs to know.
She looked at Jackson closely. If the question had unsettled him, he didn’t show a sign of it. That infuriating self-restraint those people were capable of !
The archeologist-turned-ambassador remained silent and thoughtful for a moment. A tricky question indeed. In the old times, the answer would have been simple and direct. Brutally honest in fact, followed by a very practical demonstration, usually.
Unfortunately, present times were different. Those Tollans had to be deceived and coddled - until they were ripe for the Yoke.
He allowed himself a shrewd lopsided smile, blue gaze locked to Elledia’s.
“You mean, how do you know we won’t eventually follow in the Goau’ld’s steps and try to enslave the galaxy ?”
His forthright answer achieved the intended result, putting the woman out of balance, as evidenced by the slight widening of her eyes, and he pushed on.
“I’ll be honest with you, Elledia” as much as I possibly can anyway “we Drakas are a conquering race. It’s in our blood, the need to expand and yes, dominate, hence the name of our nation.” He put his hand up to stave the woman’s upcoming questions. “Yet, we are not the Goau’ld” he drove every word in. “We are conquerors, but while we ask for absolute obedience from our subjects, we also give back a fair bargain. Hunger, disease, violence - we make those disappear. We reward those who act well. We Citizens might be at the top of the ladder, but unlike the Goau’ld we are also prepared to fight and die for those we rule. In short, we are an unabashedly aristocratic, with all the perks and duties that come with the status.”
He straightened his back and drank a bit. Elledia waited for him to continue.
“As for your unsaid question - whether Tolla should feel threatened by us - well, ask yourself who should feel threatened. You have vastly superior numbers and your space technology has the upper-hand. We should be the ones fearing an invasion” he finished with a grin.
Elledia nodded slowly and thoughtfully. It sounded like a honest reply, that she couldn’t deny. And he had a point. The Tollan Navy could mount an invasion of the Solar System… well, if the Goau’ld weren’t currently pushing inward. And if the Draka home system wasn’t years away at best hyperdrive speed.
“Besides, we have a common enemy, one that controls the majority of the Milky Way. My language has a saying, hang together, or hang separately.” Daniel had to explain the word play, but Elledia caught the meaning and it obviously made her think, nose up at the Earth overhead. Finally, she lowered her face and caught Jackson’s gaze again.
“I believe you’re right” she stated in a low pensive voice.
Her interlocutor shone a wide friendly grin.
“Well, I don’t know about you, but my back’s aching after all that flying around” a lie, but she didn’t have to know that, “shall we head to the sauna ?”
The sauna was… interesting, and not a little troubling, for the Tollan woman. The small, dark, and unbelievably hot room with its wooden surfaces was a novel experience for her. She knew the northern, colder regions of Tolla had a similar custom, and it was fascinating hearing Daniel explain the similar origin on Earth, but a born and bred Tollania urbanite, she’d never come close to it.
She was sweating profusely, sitting on the scalding bench with a thick towel to protect her skin from burning, but the protection it afforded didn’t go so far as to shield her modesty either. Compared to the Drakas, all of them sitting or lying with utter lack of concern for their nudity, she felt silly with her tightly crossed legs and arms clasped over her chest, trying her best to look at ease and probably failing to. At least they were not watching her… well not conspicuously, her subconscious corrected.
At first she had really hesitated, standing with the towel wrapped around her, then Daniel had obliviously spread his and laid belly-down on it. Almost against her will, her eyes had darted to the round and muscular butt before she’d firmly set them away with a stern inner call to reason. She had felt everyone’s eyes turning on her, the intruder with the soft body and lack of neck-tattoo, eyes filled with curiosity and barely-hidden lust, and she’d decided that standing up like that made her look even more conspicuous. Therefore she had quickly undressed and sat close to her guide, and the gazes had eventually lifted away. Yet, she felt like the subject of every low conversation, something she reasoned was largely the effect of her own paranoia, and had consequently forced herself to relax.
The heat and humidity did the rest. It was hard to remain taut when you felt your inner strength sapped by the oven-like atmosphere and every breath seemingly made you melt a little more. After a few minutes in the sauna, Elledia was slumping like everyone else and hardly noticing her own nudity any more. She didn’t even care whether Daniel was ogling her or not. In any case, she’d have to turn her head to check, and she just didn’t want to move. That’s something we need to develop on Tolla, she mused idly. Although I’m not sure I really want to see my work colleagues naked, she thought wryly, which put in her mind the unwelcome picture of the Senior Administrator Aurelim and his slut of a “personal secretary”. Not that the latter was unpleasant on the eyes, something which she confessed with a dash of feminine jealousy, but the former definitely was of the “balding, middle-aged, with a paunch” variety.
She glanced furtively around at the Drakas of all ages, well, from young to older adults. Men and women exhibited the same kind of athletic physique. Even the grey-haired coupled across the room, she couldn’t help glancing at them surreptitiously. Although lined, their skin didn’t show the signs of decrepitude, still firm over an exercised musculature. In fact, Elledia noted, the woman’s breasts barely sagged, which was just unfair. If their medical knowledge can explain that, then by the Ancestors we need to trade with them !
Her musings were interrupted by the displacement of warm air made by Daniel sitting up and she turned her head just as he put his hand on her shoulder.
“Massage room’s waiting for us”
“Huh” she shook her head to dissipate the fog clouding her mind, “yes, all right”
She rose up with him and stepped away. Seconds later, just as they exited the room, she realized two facts with a little trepidation. One, she had left the towel behind. Two, the Draka’s arm was wrapped around her back and she didn’t even mind. She closed her eyes and shook her head minutely. Oh, you silly girl, she chided herself, adjusting her pace to her host’s. Oh, you silly wench, Daniel’s mind reflected. Just you wait a little more !
The massage room was smaller, more intimate, adorned with tapestries and multicolor rugs, the main feature being a raised slab of black marble supporting two thin cotton mattresses covered by thick towels of the same type they’d worn in the sauna. It was obviously intended for two persons side-by-side. The air was fragrant with burning aromatic smoke and whiffs of perfume. The whole setting reminded Elledia of the upper-scale beauty-care institutes she used to visit in Tollania, with a difference. Here, there were no less than four attendants waiting obediently, all of them female, attractive and fresh-looking in their short multi-hued tunics, and a further three, older and darker-skinned, sitting in a corner with objects Elledia recognized as musical instruments.
“Ah, errr” she began, to be interrupted by Daniel pulling her confidently toward the waiting divan. She had no choice but to follow and imitate him as he laid down face first. She heard him give a command to the waiting servants, and strained her gaze aside to see what was happening.
“Just relax and enjoy” Jackson winked at her, and she did so, her head turned aside in her companion’s direction. She smiled shyly. She could see his naked body and so could he, but it didn’t seem to matter any more.
The four girls set smoothly into activity, while the three musicians started playing, a soothing tune of strings and slow drums that brought her mind almost immediately to a deep state of tranquillity. She didn’t flinch when two pairs of oiled hands started to work on her, one starting on her shoulders and the other at her ankles, rubbing and kneading her sore muscles. Eyes closed, she surrendered entirely to the deep strokes and applied pressure points, her body like dough under the baker’s hands.
All at her enjoying the treatment, she only belatedly noticed her own moaning in reaction to each deep powerful rub of her calves and thighs while two other sets of fingers expertly unknotted her sore back. It went on for what seemed like hours, her mind torn between the urge to sink into sleepy contented oblivion and the desire to savor every touch, every stroke. Even the hands vigorously massaging her buttocks didn’t feel out of place at all. From time to time, she opened an eye to watch Daniel receiving the same treatment, idly and guiltlessly following the hands tracing endless circles on his muscular body.
She didn’t even feel surprised or shocked to realize that she’d very much like to add her own hands to the tactile ballet taking place before her eyes.
Eventually the four palms caring for her paused and invited her to turn over. She obeyed their call and rolled on her back, allowing them to resume their work. In this position, she had a better look on the four girls and took a perverse pleasure in detailing them. Their skin tones ranged from the dusky to milky, with features that varied accordingly to present a delightful visual medley. And although Elledia had never really been attracted to other females - mainly, she reasoned, because they’d all been potential rivals before - here she could unabashedly revel in the knowledge that all four were only here to pleasure her, that it was their duty and their role in this peculiarly alluring Draka social order.
And revel she did, moaning aloud in delight as the massage began to take a brazenly erotic turn. Strands of soft hair caressed her like so many fragrant feathers as connected hands danced and twirled on her chest and thighs, coming closer with every motion to her most erogenous areas. They took their time, playing and teasing and making her want them closer, yes, here, up like that, no, come back ! Spoiler
She closed her eyes and bit her lips as two sets of fingers finally twisted around her nipples, just like she wanted them to, and suddenly she had to gasp and open her eyes again and arch her back as the stimulating fingers down below reached her closest intimacy. An exquisite and perfect storm of pleasure converged on her from every extremity, and she cried shamelessly as the music reached her beating crescendo, feeding and sustaining the orgasmic waves flooding her brain.
She laid motionless for a while, catching her runaway breath, and when she finally opened her eyes again, the sight greeting her was Daniel Jackson’s taut body above her, poised and grinning like a conqueror, his own gaze boring on hers. She returned a willing smile and raised her hands to his shoulders in silent surrender.
]A deep thrust later, the Tollan woman’s subjugation was complete.
Science Directorate Special Report (excerpts)
Classified
(…)Experimental development of high-power particle beam and laser weapons integrating Energium/Naquadah (Nq) based improvements : Anvil-based prototype successfully tested. However, use of anti-matter as weapon output not currently worth the added complexity… Recommend AM to be prioritized for propulsion, power generation, and warhead applications.
Naquadah-based regenerative cooling and power- solutions can be retrofitted to existing weapon designs at a relative minimal cost, yielding a tripled effective output according to conservative estimates. Such upgrading of our main Cis-lunar defenses can be achieved in the order of six months, complete refit of every ship-grade weapon in-system can be achieved in roughly one year. These upgrades should be granted the utmost priority considering the level of threat Goau’ld ships pose to the Domination’s survival.
(...)
Series production of Type XIV aH-Nq warheads initiated in October this year at a rate of two per month. Explosive yield projected at 4 Gt. While impressive, it also makes it rather dangerous to use close to our own, unshielded, installations. Furthermore, an adequate delivery method has yet to be selected.
Tollania
26th November 2010 (Earth Calendar)
Few among the Empire’s citizens knew the building’s nature and the identity of its occupants. Not that it were actually a secret, rather, most people didn’t bother checking. Why should they have ? It looked perfectly ordinary, a 100 meters tall oval cylinder of mirror glass and metal, not remotely among the highest or more remarkable urban structures, and lacking any exterior sign that would give a clue to what it contained. If one looked attentively, he’d see the tell-tale occasional shimmer of a protective force-field, which wasn’t a rare feature either. Other security measures were concealed among the manicured bushes and flower beds shielding the ground level from the street, and the private car traffic was slightly higher than normal for an office building of its size, while few of its workers ever seemed to use the nearby mass transit stations, but really, nobody cared about it.
Which was exactly how the people inside liked it, for it was the Imperial Tollan Intelligence headquarters and its personnel thrived in obscurity.
Director Tresim’s agent entered unseen from any exterior observer through the underground parking access, after a short anonymous trip in an ordinary grey aircar (although grey was only one of the colors its skin could display). There was a first identity check, involving the full gamut of biometric tests, then a second, and a third on the way up, all standard procedure, to which the agent submitted with patient acceptance, before the door to the Director’s office.
The room was hermetic, while an exterior view of the city could be seen on the side wall, it was an holographic projection, although one would be hard pressed to tell the difference. It was shielded and protected against every known form of remote snooping, as befitted the function of its occupant, who remained behind his desk as the triple-layer doors slid shut behind the visitor. He waved toward one of the empty seats, and the agent sat down, legs crossed and elbows supported by the narrow armrests, in a posture of relaxed attention.
Tresim caught his visitor’s eyes for a moment, finding them to express the agent’s customary expression of calm alertness, and flexed his fingers together. The sound of knuckles cracking was loud in the otherwise silent room. The agent didn’t show any visible reaction, waiting for the Director to speak first.
As usual, he was straight and to the point.
“I’ve read the official reports - yours and the Legate’s” he began in a measured voice, “but I want to hear your own, unofficial, impressions… Administrator Elledia”
The brunette woman smoothed the hem of her skirt, mentally composing her reply.
“My impressions” she repeated, batting her eyelashes at the Director “are… mixed, shall we say”
“Mixed ? That’s not the impression I got from the reports.” Tresim raised a single eyebrow. “Legate Agathes sounds positively enthusiastic, although one has to read it between his cautious, diplomatic lines, and your own account shows the Drakas in a rather favorable light”
Elledia took a short intake of air, straightening her posture. “Yes. They are very seductive” her lips twisted in a sly smile “in a very personal and intimate way too.”
Her interlocutor chuckled as he got the implied message. “Somehow I’m not really surprised to hear that, although you were the one supposed to use her charms on them”
The woman’s gaze turned aside and unfocused, a slim smile on her face as memories of her three-day sojourn in the Domination came back. Good memories, truly. The massage room had only been the beginning, and the following times had pushed her far beyond whatever limits she previously had. It seemed she’d spent more time on her back, on her knees, and variations thereof, than sitting or standing up in a normal fashion. Oh yes, she’d learnt a lot, but most of her newly acquired knowledge was more fit for the restricted sections of the Tollan Global Datanet than for public, err, consumption.
Not to mention how blissfully exhausting was the Drakas’ incredible stamina - males and females alike, or how sore her inner regions still felt four days later.
She bit her lip to banish the particularly vivid memory of herself being the center of attention for no less than three male, and two female partners - all of the Drakensis sub-type, Daniel Jackson excluded - with a smattering of serfs of both genders in the background. The various love bites she’d gotten were also the reason she wore a high collared jacket.
She shook her head, ending the short recollection. Tresim was waiting for her to elaborate if his faint smile and slightly tilted head were any indication.
“Precisely, they’re just too seductive. I almost lost my wits out there, they have a way to make one go lust-crazy… I suppose it’s a combination of their utter lack of sexual guilt and, well, incredible good looks”
The Director nodded, eyes vague, remembering the Drakas’ initial visit.
“Yes, yes, they do exhibit a powerful personal charisma, don’t they ? But I doubt the Curia would take that as enough of a bad thing to prevent furthering relations”
“Hmmmm” Elledia pinched her lips in reflexion “there’s that, and more generally the kind of… social model they’re showing us”
The spymaster’s face tilted up.
“You’re alluding to their masters-serfs division, right ?”
The woman nodded. “Precisely. And the way they actually seem to make it work - well, compared to the Goau’ld and the other class-based societies we know. You see, it is very alluring, and were we to develop trade and exchange, I could see how the Draka way of life could end up attracting some elements of Tollan society”
“The ones still nostalgic of the pre-franchise era, you mean” Tresim’s reply was more a comment than a question.
Another nod of agreement. “Yes. In a way, what I saw of the Domination’s society could be taken as how Tollan society might have evolved, had the universal franchise movement not won the political debate decades ago.”
The man crossed his arms and leant back in the warm leathery expanse of his chair, gazing pensively at the shiny gunship replica poised on its spindly support leg, as if boosting off the desk’s varnished wooden surface.
A moment later, he spoke up, not detaching his gaze from the graceful chromed model.
“I have petitioned the High Chancellor to send covert intelligence probes through the gate, hidden in our next exchange.” A sigh, and his gaze switched back to the woman’s face. “Unfortunately, he refused, arguing that should the Drakas catch a hint of their presence, it would certainly cripple future relations, and in the Empire’s current external situation, we can’t afford that either”.
A glance at the holographic exterior vista, showing the sunny surrounding Tollania skyline. Its magnificence didn’t hide the fact that in the current balance of power, a determined Goau’ld assault could very likely cause extensive devastation in the Home System, or worse. The Empire needed to come up with a counter to the upgraded Ha’taks. There was no doubt in the Director’s mind that his nation’s scientific establishment was up to the task, but it all depended on time, time he wasn’t sure they had, and the worst-case contingencies were little more than wishful outlines right now. He could understand the Chancellor’s standpoint, but his own professional paranoia screamed for more facts. What they knew of the Domination’s past history was sparse at best, and obviously selective, even though that was hardly abnormal. The Empire did likewise, after all.
“Well, in any case the Curia’s voted in favor of, I quote,” his hands mimicked the Tollan alphabet’s quotation marks “exploratory joint military operations against the Goau’ld” he spread his hands down on the desk “after Commander Katallax’ shining report.”
Elledia’s eyes narrowed minutely. The officer’s had indeed waxed lyrical about their new relations’ military prowess, arguing how devastating they would be against Jaffa armies and in boarding operations, something Tollan troops had trouble adapting to. She remembered how the man’s delighted face had amusingly reflected her own after their first respective “discovery” day. She still wondered whether the married man had managed to remain faithful to his wedding vows. His two subordinates, she had fewer doubts, after witnessing the two serf-girls exit their suite giggling and holding crumpled tunics under their arms. Soldiers.
“And you are to continue acting as informal liaison with your Draka counterpart, this Jackson fellow. The Curia apparently thinks you’ve done a good job… interacting with him so far” Tresim added, almost mischievously delighted at her surprised look.
“I… I didn’t know that” she managed to blurt out, slightly flustered.
“Well, it’s my job to learn those things before everyone else, isn’t it ?” came the rhetorical retort. “I assume you’re up to it, aren’t you ?” The Director’s question ended just a little bit teasingly.
Elledia breathed in and straightened her head, returning Tresim’s gaze confidently.
“Yes, Director”
“Very well” he stood up, leaning on the edge of the desk. “I won’t hold you up any longer then, Administrator”
She bowed slightly, acknowledging the end of the meeting, and turned around to leave. Before the doors opened, she heard Tresim’s voice again.
“Elledia ?”
She paused in place and gracefully glanced over her shoulder.
“Yes, Director ?”
His light frown met her minutely widened gaze.
“Be prudent, will you ?”
She held his gaze for a couple of respirations, then nodded minutely, the small twinkle in her eyes echoing the way a corner of her mouth had twitched upward.
“I will, Father” she said simply before she left.
Hello there !
I resumed writing, having found a new "setting" to do it. Yes, I need a special place and stuff to be productive, just sitting at home doesn't do it.
Anyway. Not a longish update, but more will be coming after it, so rejoice !
Unnamed star system
90 LY from the Tollan Empire
“Stupid cunt !” the being in golden regalia snarled with an expression of fury, his eyes flashing in the characteristic way of an angry god. “I told you to bring me Chorrelian brandy, not Chulak ale !” he spat out, punctuating every word with a harsh twisting tug on the offending slave’s hair, whose elaborate coiffure was now ruined along with her composure. Her face was forced down, her gaze submissively cast at the throne’s footsteps, doing her best not to worsen her case. She had committed a sin and whatever punishment her God would inflict would be justified. She forced back tears of pain and shame. Upon realizing her mistake, she’d reflexively knelt and prostrated herself at her Lord’s feet, but He’d reacted faster (as befitted his divine nature), grabbed her head by the hair, painfuly pulling her up, then slapped her twice violently. She could taste now the coppery taste of blood on her lip. The taste of failure in doing her god’s bidding.
Eventually the hold on her red mane was released. Nevertheless, she remained in her bent position, joined hands in her lap in the position of supplication and atonement, waiting for the remainder of her penance. She felt the gazes fixed upon her, burning her with additional shame. Her Lord’s elite warriors were witness to her failure and they would not forget it. There was no way any remotely worthy Jaffa would be interested in her as anything but an object of contempt, certainly not a potential wife. She swallowed back sobs.
“Clean up that spill before you leave”
Her eyes darted back and forth, from the raised throne to the discarded goblet lying in a wet puddle.
“Use your tongue if you have too !”
Her humiliation couldn’t be more complete, it seemed. She scuffed her way on all all fours, red-faced under the mens’ mocking mirth, and swallowed whatever pride remained in her along with the burning liquid, lapping it from the polished metal floor. It was her first taste of alcohol and she had to fight back her gag reflex, so foul the thing tasted to her unaccustomed tongue. At least she completed her duty and skittered out with the empty goblet.
“Now” the god-being let his features relax minutely “where were we ?”
He paused for drama, and his lieutnants knowingly remained expectant.
At last he smiled genially. “Oh yes. Discussing whether we’ll slaughter all the Tollans after we have shattered their defences or merely kill the men and enslave the women and children.”
The Jaffa officers arrayed around him allowed themselves to mirror their god’s smile.
Dante Base
November 28th, 2010
“You know, I didn’t think you would actually pick a planet randomly”
Decurion Rayner’s eyes were stuck on the spinning stargate, even though her remark was addressed to her commander standing at her side. Polignac’s gaze didn’t budge from the ring either.
“Randomly out of addresses not on the list of Goaul’d occupied worlds provided by the Tollans” he commented evenly.
“Yet the probe found itself in a dusty Goaul’d temple dedicated to some old Asian goddess of love and fertility”
“Yes. Interesting, isn’t it ?“
“You don’t sound all that surprised”
“My dear, we’re traveling the galaxy using wormhole devices left there by an advanced civilization thousands of years ago. If we allow ourselves to be surprised by the smallest things…”
Rayner’s lips formed a minute smile even as the seventh chevron engaged and the galaxy-spanning connexion established.
“Anyway, the probe didn’t find any trace of recent activity, so we probably won’t find ourselves under fire as soon as we step out farside” Polignac concluded just before they walked into the event horizon, followed by another pair of suited and armed Citizens.
“Well, you were right. Nobody’s firing at us” Rayner observed.
They were in a dark square room, only illuminated by the soft glow coming from the spider drone’s welcoming them in front of the stargate. The little machine had diligently scouted and mapped the place as far as it could, that is, up to the pair of three meter high clam-shell portals constituting the only visible exit straight ahead of the stargate.
Polignac and Rayner immediately went there while the other two soldiers took positions next to the dialing pedestal.
“And here’s the command panel, I suppose…”
“Looks dead”
“Good thing we learned something about Goaul’d circuitry then. Give me some light”
The decurion focused her flashlight on the dusty wall panel where stone keys inscribed with Goaul’d lettering lay inactive. Under her attentive gaze, Anton used his multitool to probe the panel’s sides, then pry it loose from its fittings. Once the protective panel was down on the floor, he bent to peer at the exposed optical circuitry. Drawing from the knowledge gained by the Domination’s scientists and technicians dismantling and reverse-engineering of captured Goaul’d hardware, he identified the main components and the way they were supposed to interact. It was a fairly simple thing, after which he attached an self-configuring optical line at the place where external inputs ought to go. The semi-smart material automatically adapted itself to the Goaul’d crystalline data conduit, and the connexion was finalized between the alien control device and the Draka’s specially configured perscomp.
This left only the matter of power, or rather the lack thereof. Rayner frowned slightly.
“You know, this facility doesn’t seem that old, and naquadah power cells are pretty long lived”
Anton gave her a sly look and pointed at a spot in the bare panel.
“That’s because the power source was removed. See this empy emplacement ? Perfect fit for a standard small Goauld power cell”
“So whoever left this place last didn’t want anybody else to come back and see what’s outside ? Could it be something dangerous out there ?”
“I don’t think so. We didn’t see a single warning and it’s a pretty poor safety measure anyway.” He paused to think, and spoke again a couple seconds later. “It looks more like a way to keep casual, low-tech travelers out.”
Rayner chuckled. “So, no telepathic, madness-inducing, flesh-eating monsters waiting for us ?”
“Unlikely”, was Anton’s short answer, as he removed a small package from a pouch and shed the content from its protective envelope. “Brand new Domination-built liquid naquadah power cell” he commented, placing it carefully and checking that the connections were just right.
“This little thing could power a decently-sized household for years” the female Draka remarked. “Hard to believe”
“Too bad we didn’t have it before the Final War…” Polignac flicked the small switch on the Earth-built device. “And… fiat lux !” he declaimed just as the panel came to life. Light coursed through the crystalline circuitry and a golden glow appeared from the ceiling, coming from recessed luminaries.
“It’s alive !” Ann Rayner exclaimed in mock wonderment, eyes laughing unseen under her faceplate. Her superior slowly turned his head toward her, feigning a disappointed posture as well as the feature-hiding armor allowed him. She put her hands out. “All right, I’ll stop nagging you with obscure quotes from my favorite horror books !”
She didn’t sound sincere at all.
Anton started to tap his perscomp’s keyboard. “Was that from Lovecraft ?” he asked idly.
Ann shook her head negatively. “No, Shelley”
“Ah, yes. Frankenstein, I suppose ?”
She nodded.
“You know this book was commonly viewed as a metaphor of the Domination, don’t you ? Better not mention that you like it in front of some no-fun headhunter”
She shrugged unworryingly. “Like they read any books !” They snorted together and Anton continued. “Anyway, I like Lovecraft better. He emigrated to the Domination after all.” He paused his tapping, glanced at the panel, then back at the extended flexible screen of his perscomp.
“Loved the movie version of Nightmare in Black” he added absently.
“Ay, those deranged jungle-bunnies were fucking unsettling”
A chime sounded, coming from the control panel, and the doors shook themselves out, dust accumulated for years falling out lazily. The bronze-like panels started to pivot out, allowing daylight to come in.
Rayner and the two privates had their rifles at the ready, aiming at the outside while their commander’s fingers hovered over the keyboard, prepared to command the closing of the gate if needed.
He didn’t have to. Nothing rushed inside except fresh air scented with the green smell of vegetation. The pair of soldiers walked past the open portal, where they were greeted with the Drakas’ first glimpse of this world. And it was dazzling.
From their perspective, two tall, curved, golden walls framed the door they had just traversed, spreading out just like the sides of a triangle, their apex being the portal with its two convex panels opening outward.
Rather bemused, the two officers followed them, craning their necks. The golden mass seemed to continue upward, above the exit.
Rayner whistled. “Loki’s balls, that’s real genuine gold ! Look at the spectrographic return !”
Her observation was true. The four Drakas were surrounded by a small mountain of gold.
Anton commented dryly. “Well, this is worth the trip. Let’s see what’s at the end of those walls.”
Walk they did, stopping where the thinning gold walls ended in flaring vertical structures. Just after this, the platform they were standing on made way to stone steps descending all the way to ground level, which in the visitors’ estimate laid about five stories down. The steps seemed to encircle the whole structure, acting as a monumental stand for the gold construction overlooking a wide plain, or rather a very broad valley surrounded by distant hills. The building, or temple, seemed to stand in a central position as befitted a god’s dwelling, with a commanding view of the forests and fields scattered all around it. Supernaturally keen eyes could spot other buildings here and there, none closer than a mile, as if respecting some kind of invisible limit. Interestingly, most of those small buildings, houses and huts from their look, seemed to be in a state of disrepair and abandonment, walls and roofs crumbling, green vegetation reclaiming the space.
Further away, an hour walk for a normal human, a village stood in the middle of still cared-for fields. Minuscule black dots, invisible but for the Draka’s augmented vision, were moving slowly. People.
“Peasants.” The merarch’s observation was neutral.
“From the look of things, not a flourishing community” Rayner added. From their vantage point, it was obvious that human settlement had contracted to this single village, leaving out isolated farmhouses to crumble and former fields to become forest again.
“Ah, Commander…” one of the soldiers interjected. He was staring back the way they’d came from, peering up at the dazzling gold mass. Both officers imitated him. An instant of realization later, it took them all their self-control not to gape in disbelief.
“Oh” Rayner uttered at last. “Oh. That’s just priceless”
Here at the end of the platform, they could actually make out the overall shape of the structure.
Standing, or rather laying before them, was the gigantic golden statue of a naked woman. What they’d took for walls were actually her spread legs, prolonged the other way by her semi-reclined torso, supported in the distance by pillar-like arms and terminated by a colossal head, face upturned toward the sky in the same way as her magnified breasts.
The soldier’s head slowly tracked down, staring at the place they’d exited the statue’s womb.
Fighting snickers, he finished his comment.
“Look, we just came out of her cunt !”
A devoted follower of the Chaos Goddess and her way.....
Buck Murdock: Oh, cut the bleeding heart crap, will ya? We've all got our switches, lights, and knobs to deal with, Striker. I mean, down here there are literally hundreds and thousands of blinking, beeping, and flashing lights, blinking and beeping and flashing - they're *flashing* and they're *beeping*. I can't stand it anymore! They're *blinking* and *beeping* and *flashing*! Why doesn't somebody pull the plug!
“High Exalted Lady, your fleet has achieved orbital superiority” the senior rank Jaffa announced with pride, head bowed and down on one knee as befitted his goddess’ warriors.
The goddess in question sat still and poised on her ornate throne, her back straight, her entire figure loftiness incarnate from the haughty beautiful face down to her immaculately red-painted nails, resting on the seat’s golden arms. Her head rose almost imperceptibly higher, allowing her to gaze down from under perfectly arched eyebrows.
“Is that so ?” She deigned responding. “I would have expected nothing less.”
The Jaffa’s head bent even lower, his eyes fixed on a point just below his goddess’ sandaled feet. He wouldn’t dare catch even a furtive glimpse of the smooth unblemished legs, crossed in an achingly graceful way that would let anyone daring to look with an unrestricted view all the way up to the top of her bare thighs, where the pale flesh disappeared under the rich red and gold silk.
None of the Jaffas and servants dared, naturally, for they all knew the price to pay for such impudent behaviour. It would be the very last thing their eyes would see.
“We can proceed to rain fire on the traitors, High Exalted Lady”
The Goau’ld appeared to think for a few seconds. Eventually she spoke, in a honey-smooth voice that belied her wrath.
“This would be a much too gentle fate for those who turned their worship away from me. Their souls will burn for all eternity, yet I will not allow their death to be so quick.” She pursed her lips in cruel delight. “No, they will curse their betrayal every day of their remaining life, for they will live - yet they won’t.”
She uncrossed her legs and stood up in a fluid movement. She addressed her followers, one hand on her hip, the other extended horizontally in front of her. She rotated her wrist, turning her palm upward, and the kneeling Jaffas stood up, faces still looking down and away from her figure.
“I command you to sweep down and slaughter the last enemy warriors on this world, yet spare the people. I want them all captured and brought forward to my temple, where they will await their punishment”
“Your will be done, Exalted Goddess”
She flicked her wrist dismissively and the Jaffa officers took their leave, never once laying their eyes upon her, as was the rule.
Now
Four armored Drakas silently crossed the flat ground between their place of arrival and the distant settlement, walking alertly at separated, irregular intervals, scanning their surroundings with their own heightened senses and their armor’s sensors. So far they hadn’t detected anything suspect. There were still questions.
“This here soil looks fertile enough to sustain a larger population, even at primitive levels of agricultural knowledge, and some of those plants around look like grain crops” Anton agreed with Rayner’s statement over the wireless. Although the fields they were traversing were long overgrown with wild vegetation, there was no mistaking that several species shared a remarkable similarity with Earth-born grain, and a plantation-raised Draka could easily estimate the yield of those. An estimation made easier by the current season obviously being the local summer. “So why such a small apparent population ? Some plague, do ya think ?”
The merarch mulled over the facts for the time it took them to move a dozen meters.
“They were cut off from the stargate too. I honestly don’t know what to make of it all. Could be disease, could be anything else” He shrugged. “Whatever, we’ll soon learn it”
Eventually, they came into full view of the village. Until then, they’d remained unspotted, although they didn’t actually try to hide. Apart from a couple of small deer-like creatures, no living being had challenged their progress.
As the four explorers reached the fringe of the clearing, both privates fell behind, melding with practiced competence into the scenery to act as spotters and backup, while the officers went forward, rifles held across the chest in a relaxed but ready posture.
At last, their sight drew some reaction for the inhabitants. Cries broke out and the locals started to assemble in ranks just outside of the last houses with evident haste, some of them, probably old and frail, helped by others. The two Drakas were now close enough to make out details. The welcome party seemed to consist, predictably, of poor peasants, ragged discolored clothes, dry limbs and emaciated faces, people who toiled hard and ate little. There was something else, too.
“I’d say every inhabitant’s gathered around” Rayner observed “make that forty-eight bodies, coherent with the size and number of buildings.” She voiced her question aloud.
“So where are the children ?”
Fifty years earlier
The goddess stood tall on top of the high stairs, framed by her oversized self cast in gold. A line of Jaffas guards in gleaming mail occupied the steps two stories below her, staff weapons held at present, hardened eyes watching like hawks the field below and the captives, gathered, shackled, and kneeling, surrounded by more Jaffas. The enemy warriors were already dead to the very last, killed in the aftermath of the landing or sent fleeing through the stargate for the luckiest ones, to spread tales of their ignominous defeat, bleeding foreheads skinned of their ritual tattoo proof enough to prevent lies.
Only the men and women and children of this forsaken world remained to await their doom.
Not a single Jaffa was allowed to look at the goddess. The vision of her body was a sight only permitted to the blessed, or the damned. So they stood facing away from her, watching instead the traitors who had cast away her worship and joined the cult of her enemy. Blank faced, they’d separated the grown-up men from their companions and offspring, uncaring to the pleas and tears and whimpers. Both groups waited now. Some of the men had refused to kneel, and the Jaffas had gleefully broken their legs to make them compliant. But the warriors didn’t care if the vanquished cast eyes on the goddess, for they were condemned and should drink freely the sight of She whom they had offended, before their lives were taken and their souls joined everlasting torment.
And such a sight she was indeed. A goddess of love, beauty, and fertility, her carnal envelope was appropriately perfect. Those men whose lives were forfeit could freely drink her beauty and feel the flame of desire burn in their mind, while women could look and weigh the chasm between their mortal, flawed bodies and the goddess’ eternal youthful splendor.
She stood erect, haughtily offering herself, reveling in the stares from the lowly doomed creatures at her feet. Yes, she thought, let them see, and regret.
At last she pointed an imperious finger down, and spoke arrogantly, her voice magnified by her divine magic.
“Jaffa ! Bring me the man who doomed his entire people, the leader of this hopeless rebellion !”
Two burly warriors sprang into motion, crossing the space between themselves and one of the kneeling men. Grabbing him under the armpits, they lifted him on his feet and started to drag him up the stairs, other Jaffas stepping aside to let them pass.
The goddess watched the small group. Her warriors had their gazes carefully averted, but the man stared at her defiantly. Middle-aged, bearded, strong limbs and features. The leader of this community. A zat discharge had put a stop to his resistance hours earlier, for he was too precious for the Jaffas to simply subdue him by breaking his limbs. He would receive a personalized retribution from the goddess he tried to betray.
At last he was before her, sneering openly between the two warriors whose head and eyes were turned entirely sideways. She allowed herself to feel satisfaction and excitement, yet didn’t show it. Her face retained the same expression of barely interested disdain even as their gazes met. Her eyes flashed brightly, and the man flinched, adding to her pleasure. Yet his gaze remained locked onto hers.
“I’m not afraid of death” he stated forcefully.
The female god cocked her head minutely and replied in silky sweetness.
“I believe you.” She smiled, revealing pearl-white teeth, and raised her right arm in a languid, controlled flourish. She savoured the brief flash of expectant trepidation in the man’s countenance, ans smiled wider, like a lover. Her delicate fingers twirled gently then settled on his jaw, running a feather-light caress. Worldessly, her other hand followed, tracing the line between his neck and shoulder, drawing goosebumps on the bare skin. She ignored the grime and dust, fingers dancing a perverse tease on the traitor’s proffered chest, eyes boring into his without respite, daring him to show weakness.
The subject of her peculiar torment attempted to shake himself free, loathing the sensual touch that threatened to defeat his will quicker than days of torture would have done. His efforts were to no avail, so strong was the Jaffas’ grip on his arms, his shackled feet forbidden to kick away.
The goddess of love sensed her captive’s coming defeat. She wanted them all to witness it, see how her divine beauty could make any man pliant clay in her hands.
She stepped closer, bringing her own body, naked save for a couple of magical jewels, almost in contact with the man’s. She continued her tactile caress, drawing from her deep knowledge of human physiology to send waves of delicious shivers. He was stirring at last, yet she decided to give him additional encouragement. In a sudden lunge that left him no chance to resist, her mouth locked onto his in a hungry kiss, sending her tongue to probe and lick. Exultantly, she felt her unwilling partner surrender to her invasion and respond in kind. He was ready to receive his penalty.
Her right hand, the one bearing the gold and gemstone glovelike instrument, slid down and settled onto his expectant manhood. Her divine power channeling into the device, a warm glow extended from her hand right into the sensitive flesh. She felt him gasp in her mouth, as pleasure above anything a mere mortal could experience washed over him. It grew stronger and fiercer, blanketing every nerve of his body in orgasmic fire for what seemed like eternity, until his brain was overwhelmed.
Her open lips, still locked tight onto his, finally welcomed the traitor’s last breath.
A devoted follower of the Chaos Goddess and her way.....
Buck Murdock: Oh, cut the bleeding heart crap, will ya? We've all got our switches, lights, and knobs to deal with, Striker. I mean, down here there are literally hundreds and thousands of blinking, beeping, and flashing lights, blinking and beeping and flashing - they're *flashing* and they're *beeping*. I can't stand it anymore! They're *blinking* and *beeping* and *flashing*! Why doesn't somebody pull the plug!
I got to write two more pages this morning. Enjoy, there may be more this afternoon.
Now
Arriving to a new place and finding the locals already prostrated before them was a very pleasant experience for any Draka. Even though both officers had the nagging feel that it was all a case of mistaken identity. They didn’t look anything like peasants, nor Jaffas. Which had to make them god-like, they suspected.
They stopped a few paces from the first sprawling bodies and Rayner drew on his Goaul’d language skills.
“Who here is responsible for your community ?” He made sure that his voice was appropriately and unnaturally deep to complement his commanding attitude.
Someone stirred in front of him. A face turned up, not quite looking at him. A female voice, old and weary, answered.
“I am, my Lord”
“Look at me”
She did and Polignac got a full view of his interlocutor. A crone, although she might be only the equivalent of fourty terran years for all he knew. Wrinkled skin, withered features that looked vaguely asian with a flattish face and slanted eyes, weathered by summers spent in the fields. Well she isn’t going to win any beauty contest, he reflected.
“Your fields look well cared for” he commented. It was as good a way to begin the interrogation as any.
The crone nodded reflexively, clearly fighting the urge to grovel at his feet. The scent of fear, coming from all of them, was almost intoxicating.
“Thank you, my Lord. We do our best” she paused hesitantly “but our numbers are dwindling” she drew a quick breath “as, as the Exalted Lady so desired” she ended her sentence and almost buried her nose in the dusty soil in her haste to show submission.
Anton caught Rayner’s subtle shift and the message it conveyed. Looks like there’s an interesting story here.
“I see that your people and yourself are repentant for the magnitude of your sin. Say it so”
“We are, my Lord. Ever since our Exalted Lady dispensed her punishment on us my people have been cursing their own folly”
“You cannot find true remorse unless you duly expound your fault” Anton insisted. “Do it in front of your lords. Confess your past sins and feel the magnitude of your crime. Maybe if you show true penitence the Exalted Lady will grant you her pardon” Fuck, I sound like the goddamn pope. Except he’s dead. “As you wish, my Lord.” The old hag drew a deep breath, still on all fours, her mouth barely a centimeter above the bare ground.
“Oh woe the day our weak minds were seduced by the treacherous words of our then-leader… We strayed from the righteous path to fall into heresy, we turned our backs on the Exalted Lady…!”
Fifty years earlier
The goddess inhaled the man’s last breath, savoured the taste of her personal victory. His defiance had been for naught. In his last moments, he was hers again.
The spent husk of a man slumped between the two supporting warriors and the goddess took a step back, licking her lips voluptuously, and made a dismissing gesture with her right hand.
“Let this world’s feral beasts dispose of this body.”
“By your command, Exalted Lady”
Both Jaffas turned around and started down the steps. They would dump the traitor’s corpse away from the temple. There was no need to sully this sacred place with the foul stench of rotting flesh.
Once they were gone, the female-looking Goaul’d swept her gaze over the man’s captive fellows. She read the shock and fear on their faces and, most importantly, the realization of her power. It was so pleasant, almost physically so. There was nothing more exciting than power, she reflected. And her human host was so attuned to pleasure, so receptive to sexual arousal. She - as the Goaul’d mind fully considered itself a female after centuries spent impersonating a goddess - had chosen her latest vessel well. The girl’s natural beauty was enhanced by the symbiote’s power, curing any imperfection down to the most minute. And so she reveled in the power it gave her over men as well as fellow Goauld’s of both male and female incarnation.
She strutted down the steps, making sure to put the right amount of graceful sway in her hips, her nakedness highlighted rather than hidden by the delicately wrought golden threads cascading on her body and hugging the flesh in every move. She stopped just over the line of Jaffas, a picture of nonchalant beauty and exquisitely negligent poise.
Her voice rang again, loud and clear for all to hear.
“People of Tianxa” she intoned. “You have failed me, your goddess, thinking the weak Zipacna would protect you. Your lapse of faith allowed your dead leader to convince you of that preposterous notion. Of course he was wrong. I, Chiang-Mu, do not look well on heresy and my divine might will punish you appropriately.”
She paused to let her words sink in.
“You have betrayed me, the goddess of beauty and fertility. It is therefore fitting that your community shall wither and die.”
She smiled cruelly, ignoring the wails and supplications coming from the women below.
“You will not ever again know the joy of bearing offspring. Your lines will die for lack of descendants. Nobody will remember you and tend to your home altars. Your personal deaths will be definitive.”
The goddess extended her right arm, pointing over the male group.
“Jaffas ! Make it so those men cannot ever father children again, nor pleasure their women !”
Gasps, shouts and cries of despair resounded. Women crying for mercy and men begging forgiveness, music to Chiang-Mu’s ears. She pounded on, turning to address the wailing women.
“From this day on you will curse every night of your remaining life that your wombs will remain forever barren ! Weep in the knowledge that your children never will grow up to become parents themselves !
She retracted her arm. “Such is my decree !”
Done with her judgment, she turned her back on the damned and strutted back to the statue’s inner sanctum, a controlled grin on her lips.
Behind her, cries of despair became screams of agony as sharp blades wielded by stone-faced Jaffas started the grim job of castrating every adult male and prepubescent boy.
As the Tianxan woman finished her story, Anton couldn’t help being impressed by the perversely elegant curse devised by the Goau’ld ruler. It was a bit too drawn-out and needlessly wasting to his Domination taste, but it sure sounded appropriate from a goddess of fertility. He was still bemused that any sane ruler would let a whole planet go to waste, untended. Well, another reason why Drakas should be masters and nobody else.
Of course, that left the question of what to do. Planting a Domination flag and declaring the planet to be under the Yoke was tempting… but reckless, since they had no idea of Chiang-Mu’s power. The natives were worthless, too old to work and procreate. In fact, putting them out of their misery seemed to be a downright mercy.
As to the world itself… he’d recommend setting up a discreet monitoring station and be done with it for the near future.
He was still mulling over the choices when his tactical display received a notice from the drone left near the stargate. Incoming wormhole.
He didn’t have to warn his subordinates. They were receiving the same data. Instead he checked that the drone was stealthed. Stuck on the gateroom’s ceiling with its mimetic skin set to imitate the color and texture of the material around it, there was scant likelihood that whoever was inbound might spot it. In the case of Jaffas, he didn’t need worry that they might use electronic snooping either. Therefore, he could watch the real-time video feed from the giant hollow statue.
Seconds later, from the vantage point of the upside down spider drone, the placid blue shimering surface was disturbed by shapes exiting it. Jaffas. In ranks of two, they stormed into the chamber, staff weapons held level, their attitude clearly showing they weren’t here for a routine visit.
As more and more warriors disgorged on Tianxa, the Draka officer came to a decision.
“People of Tianxa” his voiced boomed Goaul’d-like. “Your time of penance has ended. The goddess, in her infinite kindness, has decided to grant your souls respite and safe passage to the afterworld. You are not to suffer a single more day in the mortal plane” I can’t believe I’m saying this bullshit with a straight face.
He caught the looks of hope and surprise from the assembled peasants. On a corner of his tactical display, updates from the dropped sensors showed the column of Jaffas, now counting almost a hundred warriors with more still exiting the stargate, stream out of the temple grounds and toward the village. There was no time to lose, and the villagers needed to be silenced. Quickly and decisively. Fortunately, there were only fourty-eight of them.
But he had to make sure their “goddess” wouldn’t be able to ressuscitate one using a sarcophagus, and at the same time leave as little hard evidence of the Drakas’ involvement.
He drew out his blade, followed by Rayner. The withered crone’s eyes widened in realisation, then she shook her head with resignation. She addressed her fellows with fatalism.
“My brothers and sisters, more than once we have asked for a release to our plight. Many of us have taken ther own lives in those years of penance. We have to accept our fates and thank the goddess for her mercy”
“Bless the goddess” a chorus of crackling voices answered in unison, some more hesitantly than others. Yet none seemed decided to resist their coming death. So much the better, Anton thought.
He walked next to the village elder, still prostrate, and bent, knife in hand. She made no effort to delay the inevitable, instead exposing her throat. For the Draka, it was a matter of grabbing a hold of her hair and sliding the mono-edged blade across her neck. It was so quick that she only realized it when her blood started to gush out in pulsating jets, and her attempts to breath failed to bring oxygen to her lungs. Anton supported her head as she gasped and thrashed feebly, the puddle of blood tainting the earth red. It wasn’t the only puddle spreading under her as well, as his sense of smell told him. He was used to this.
At last the body went limp, and he let her lie down gently, a little show of compassion as he closed her eyes.
Only fourty-seven to go.
Five minutes later, he surveyed the scene of carnage. The two Drakas stood over the slaughtered villagers, their armor slick with splattered blood. The stench was thick now and flies were already clustering over the gaping wounds, busy laying eggs. A spectacle the soldiers knew only too well.
According to the tactical sensors, the Jaffa column was half-way there. It was time to dispose of the bodies. With augmented strength, carrying two bodies at a time and throwing them inside the nearest huts wasn’t very difficult. A first dwelling was soon filled, then a second.
“Just pack them in tighter” Aton commented as he wedged a frail-looking woman between the inner wall and the stacked bodies inside.
“Does it look like I’m arranging a display ?” Rayner quipped back, using her hands to push in a pair of legs that were sticking out of a window frame.
“We should be watching the grunts do this instead of the other way around” she added. The snickering reply came instantly. “Nah, with all due respect, we’re fine back here. Besides, we’re watching for incoming dumb alien warriors”
“I’ll kick your ass back in the base”
“Sure you will, Ma’am !”
“Can it, we’re done here” Polignac interjected.
The two village shanties were filled to the brim with dead people, and the two oficers sprinted back to the privates’ position.
The Jaffas were close now.
“And now for the fireworks” Anton produced a remote control, flipped the safety cover, and pressed the red button.
A fraction of a second later, the thermal charges placed inside the huts at regular intervals activated. Next, the temperature inside the improvised oversized ovens climbed by thousands of degrees, and flesh started to boil and melt. Soon, what had been people became a bubbling mass of carbonizing organic matter disgorging thick greasy pillars of smoke, unimpeded by the vaporized roofs.
The smell drifted to the first Jaffas even before they could see anything but the black columns in the sky. It was enough to make them gag, but they repressed the natural reaction and pressed forward, faces grim with renewed resolve. Something was definitely amiss there.
“The fucking temple must have sent a signal when you reactivated the circuitry”
“I checked it for an emitter, there was none !”
“None you could spot, then. It’s not like we know everything about Goaul’d technology !”
“Right. Well, we’re out of here. The Jaffas are spreading out, we’ll punch through them and sprint to the gate”
Rayner and the two specialists nodded, checking their weapons yet another time.
Two seconds later, the movement started, each officer paired with a private, one pair sprinting forward while the other provided overwatch.
The first Jaffa to make contact didn’t see the bullet that shattered his skull. The second one suffered the same fate, while a third had time to glimpse a kneeling form, almost blurred against the background. Then his own brain matter became part of the scenery. Seconds later, the Draka squad was past the collapsed bodies. More warriors rushed in from the sides, shooting in the approximate direction where they thought their adversaries to be. Which was far from the mark. Return fire, on the other hand, was as accurate as it was restrained, the Drakas only bothering to shoot at the Jaffas closest to them and more likely to achieve a lucky hit.
It became a shooting race to the statue, where the Earth soldiers’ superior speed and accuracy gave them an advantage, carving a bloody path on their way. By now, every Jaffa was aware of the presence of an hostile force and the warriors belatedly converged back to the point they’d came from.
“Clear path to the temple. Move, move !”
Their scattered sensors gave the Drakas superior tactical awareness. Assuming, of course, the Goauld’s didn’t have a surprise lying in wait. But the drone feed showed a handful Jaffas guarding the stargate.
Five of them standing on the monumental steps collapsed in the span of a second, and the four soldiers climbed unimpeded to the statue’s level. Two more Jaffas rushed out of the oversized gold labia only to be cut down by merciless fragmenting bullets.
“Clear”
Rayner and her partner bounded to the gateroom. As she started to key in the coordinates for an empty surveyed world, the first wave of running warriors broke out of the woods. Immediately, they were greated by suppressive rifle fire.
“Shit they’re not stopping”
Anton lobbed two grenades in quick succession. Two explosions culled the advancing front. More came in sight and plasma fire washed over the defending Drakas, the sheer mass making up for the lack of accuracy.
“Getting hot here”
“Open wormhole !” Rayner barked back.
“On the way !”
Disengaging from the firefight, Polignac and his teammate leapt into the immaterial surface after their comrades. At the other side, nothing but an expanse of empty sand greeted them. Rayner started to dial another address as soon as the connection shut down. Two more hops should make it virtually impossible for their pursuers to track them down, or so the theory went.
An hour later, the foursome was back on Abydos.
At the same moment, a very annoyed Jaffa leader was trying to come up with a report that wouldn’t make him lose his balls.
“I want to know who did this !”
Lord Yu’s ancient, wise-looking face remained impassible. By now, after decades of cohabitation, he was used to his partner’s occasional tantrums. Chiang-Mu’s beautiful face was contorted in a mask of rage, but at least she had stopped screaming and toned down to mere yelling. He mused that his calm demeanor must have finally rubbed off on her. To start with, she hadn’t ordered the news-bringing Jaffa killed on the spot. She might have gotten around to that if he hadn’t preemptively told the warrior and everyone else to leave, though.
This also meant that he was alone to withstand her fury.
“My dear” he started in an even, soothing voice “I will do everything to find out the culprit and bring them to you. But we need to think, not succumb to mindless rage”
“I’m not succumbing to mindless rage ! I’m in perfect control !” the screamed reply came instantly. “I want whoever trespassed on my planet and interfered with the shol’vas’ fate brought to me to receive their just punishment !”
In Yu’s opinion, his lovely wife was overreacting. In the grand scheme of things, a few dead peasants and Jaffas was nothing. Yet he had to agree there was something disturbing in the report : the description of the enemy fighters, who sounded nothing like Jaffas and more like those accursed Kull spawn of Anubis.
But why would Anubis waste those precious soldiers on something as unimportant as Tianxa ? Sure, it was close to the front-line, but there were worlds of more strategic value nearby. Maybe he just wanted to piss off Chiang-Mu, in which case he’d succeeded, but that wouldn’t do him any good. Despite a few setbacks, the Alliance’s latest general offensive was successful, several key system had fallen back in the free System Lords’ hands.
Losses were heavy, as expected, but ships and warriors would be replaced. One could also argue that a handful of defeats were an opportunity to weed out incompetent commanders… such as that fool Dhakhan. The clown had proven himself unworthy of command, and lost the Exalted Lady’s support… to Yu’s immense satisfaction. He’d been wary of the younger, more boisterous Goaul’d’s obvious interest for his partner. He smiled inwardly. Now Dhakhan wouldn’t be challenging his position any more.
The ancient System Lord’s face relaxed as he recalled the day when the defeated Dhakhan was forced to report his failure. His Goaul’d peers, those who had survived the Bellenos disaster, had made sure he wouldn’t conveniently forget the way to Yu’s throne room.
There the dark-skinned Goaul’d found a seething Chiang-Mu, who appeared determined to offset her former support. She found a very proper punishment too.
The symbiote Dhakhan was forcibly removed from its host body (causing the death of the commandeered human, but who cared about that) and inserted into a new form. A form who was female and barely pubescent. Yu was almost tempted to send the newly incarnated Dhakhan to one of the Jaffa brothels, but the being was still a Goaul’d, and some things just weren’t done. One couldn’t allow Jaffas to feel in any way equal to a god, even a failed one. That was too much of a slippery slope.
Fellow Goaul’d on the other hand were fair game, and a number of them, especially the survivors of the Bellenos operation, had been taking turns since inside the chamber where “lady Dhakhan” was held captive. Every time, the screams of pain heard outside left no doubt about the things happening inside. The symbiote’s healing power were evidently put to the test to repair the tears after each rape session.
Lord Yu was pulled out of his recollection when the angry goddess stopped her pacing right in front of his throne and bent toward him, putting her hands on the seat’s armrests. Her eyes bored at him and flashed brightly.
“Are you listening to me ?”
He met her gaze rather than ogle the cleavage hanging before his eyes.
“Of course, my sweet” he smiled crookedly, “I was thinking of the best way to avenge this outrage.”
She studied his face, then composed her features. “And what is your decision ?” she asked in a falsely placid voice.
“I will have my best agent investigate the case” although there are much better ways to use such an asset, he didn’t add.
“And then ?”
“And then we’ll act appropriately. What more would you have me do ?” Bash Anubis’ head with my cock ? Yu colored his answer with a hint of irritation.
The scantily dressed young woman inhaled sharply, then straightened up, putting her hands on her hips, and opened her mouth to reply. Before words could escape her lips, however, the deceptively old looking System Lord sprang up from his sitting position. Now towering over the smaller female, he frowned severely.
“This is enough. I won’t have a minor incident overtake the much more pressing issues of the war !” Flashing eyes underlined his determination, and Chiang-Mu relented at last, realizing that pressing the subject wouldn’t be worth it. She bowed curtly, a girly pout on her lips.
“Then I have affairs of my own to attend” she declared snobbishly, before she turned on her heels and strode out of the room.
Yu watched the doors close after her provocative swaying hips and muttered under his breath.
“Women !”
I've been a fan since you started posting this fic over on SB. Will the Draka get their asses kicked, or will they be as lucky as in the book/as Earth in Stargate?
[R_H] wrote:I've been a fan since you started posting this fic over on SB. Will the Draka get their asses kicked, or will they be as lucky as in the book/as Earth in Stargate?
I do plan on them having their asses kicked like everyone else. The SG universe is a vast one, so there's room for misery for everyone !
