Dylan Thomas

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Splendor.

Wealth.

Luxury.

Servants.

All of it meant nothing if he couldn’t share it with his Queen.

His mate.

His love.

His Amaunet.

Apophis sat on his golden throne reflecting on the words Daniel Jackson had spoken to him on Netu. “Your mate Amaunet is dead. Sorry to ruin your day. No actually, I’m wrong about that. I’m not sorry.”

Not sorry? Did he not know who Amaunet was? Did he not know her position in the System Lord hierarchy? Did he not know that she once ruled supreme among the queens?

“She was my queen, my mate,” Apophis said to himself.

The Goa’uld had established order throughout the galaxy for many millennia in order to keep the warring factions from killing each other off completely. The rules governing them had been created and accepted by legions of symbiotes long dead but not forgotten. Chief among them was the express forbiddance of harvesting hosts from other Goa’ulds’ regimes and the sanctity of a Queen’s choice of mates. Most broken rules were dealt with by waging battle on the perpetrator. Simple things like breaches of protocol and trespassing were considered acts of war and were met accordingly.

“But what is war when compared to the love of one’s queen?” he asked out loud.

Apophis’ devotion for Amaunet was the only reason he dared to personally travel to planets belonging to other System Lords in search of hosts that might please his queen, even planets known to be ruled by Ra. If any Goa’uld had discovered Apophis’ breach in protocol had occurred before news of Ra’s death had been confirmed, Apophis and Amaunet would have found themselves hunted outcasts with more enemies than they had thought possible. Apophis risked much for her. He would exact retribution on those who would disparage her name and desecrate her memory.

“And Daniel Jackson dares to mock me?” Apophis thundered. “He does not know the depth of his insolence. How dare he insult my queen?”

No, Daniel Jackson had not known what was destroyed that day. Amaunet was one of the most powerful Goa’ulds in the pantheon, and Daniel Jackson was not sorry that she was dead? She was much more than a goddess! Her passing should have caused the stars to weep!

“And he feels nothing,” Apophis thought out loud again, his voice betraying his disgust.

And what was Daniel Jackson’s greatest iniquity for which he would spend an eternity in horrific pain as retribution? By all appearances, he had completely disregarded the queen and had forgiven the Shol’va Teal’c for killing Amaunet’s host—this host whom he professed to love as if he knew what the emotion was. Slaves knew nothing of such things. They were incapable of understanding that which belonged solely to the province of the gods themselves. Apophis held no illusions on the matter. When the rumors of Amaunet’s death reached Netu, Apophis swore vengeance on Teal’c. Losing such a pleasing host was regrettable, but his queen’s murder was at the apex of all of the Jaffa’s sins. Teal’c would pay for his crimes with his life.

With torture …

With painful torture …

With slow painful torture.

Apophis would watch with great amusement and immeasurable satisfaction as Teal’c suffered.

“And you will suffer, Shol’va,” Apophis promised. “By my hands, you will know pain not imagined in your worst nightmares.”

As for Daniel Jackson, Apophis had plans for him, plans which were already taking form and substance. Jackson would pay dearly for his insolence. He valued the host over the Queen? He had much to learn, and Apophis was more than eager to teach him the truth that the infuriating Tau’ri had so willingly forgotten.

“A lesson he will not soon forget.” Daniel Jackson’s torment would make Teal’c’s pale in comparison. It was a lesson Amaunet’s host learned all too well.

Apophis delighted in the fact that Amaunet could and did mercilessly ravage Sha’uri’s memories. There was a wealth of information about the Tau’ri. After Amaunet’s disclosure that Jackson and O’Neill had been the instruments of Ra’s destruction, Apophis had no choice but to avenge his enemy’s death. Upstarts could not be allowed to challenge the Goa’uld without punishment regardless of who the Goa’uld was. All of the gods would suffer slave uprisings as a result if such an insult was not answered with brute force, and Amaunet made sure that Sha’uri knew that she was the one that had betrayed the Tau’ri. Betrayed O’Neill. Betrayed her husband, her precious Dan’yel.

“And she did feel the guilt, did she not, my queen?” Apophis spoke aloud to his dead Amaunet. “She suffered your wrath, my love.”

Occasionally, Amaunet would hint at the more personally useful secrets she stole from time to time. They had enabled Apophis to gain a unique understanding of the Tau’ri—Daniel Jackson in particular. By the slave’s estimation, he held the virtues deemed important to the inferior beings, bravery being one of the more important ones. Apophis himself had witnessed certain confusing aspects of the soon-to-be slave’s character when he had been held captive at the Tau’ri base. Jackson had been brave enough to confront him, even offend him, and Apophis had found that … uniquely amusing. Had he been in Daniel Jackson’s position, he would have killed his enemy. Jackson hadn’t raised a finger against the System Lord, but the reason behind that lack of action could have easily been because the one known as Carter had claimed his attention. Apophis might never know what Jackson would have done at that moment.

But if events went according to plan, he would.

A host’s memories could easily be used against them. Some memories Amaunet told Apophis, others she kept to herself to torment Sha’uri when the little slave became too difficult to manage. This was necessary when dominating a strong willed host. Apophis remembered his mate explaining a source of one of her more enjoyable forms of amusement. When the two of them were together, she would force Sha’uri to remember what it was like to be with her long absent husband, to let her know that she would never feel Dan’yel’s touch again, to force her to know when Amaunet was with her Pharaoh, to experience the physical pleasures the gods shared through the Goa’uld controlled senses. Then, when her Pharaoh slept, she would force Sha’uri to compare the physical aspects of the two men in minute detail. Amaunet would comment about how lucky she was to have Apophis for a husband and how inadequate Sha’uri’s Dan’yel was.

This amusement was tarnished once. On one occasion, Sha’uri would brook no insult against her Dan’yel. She fought back. That one time, Amaunet finally admitted to Apophis, Sha’uri let the full force of her memories be leveled at the queen, certain memories that the little slave had been hiding to comfort her when she was alone in the darkness of her mind. Amaunet was shown a very intense mental demonstration of how inadequate and lacking Apophis was in certain areas of marital concern and exactly what her Dan’yel was capable of. That was the last time Amaunet mentioned Sha’uri’s memories.

Before she was murdered, Amaunet did comment that Apophis should strongly consider taking Daniel Jackson as a host. His knowledge of the Tau’ri and his capabilities would be well worth the risk and ultimate rewards. She hadn’t elaborated further.

That was another reason to hate that particular Tau’ri.

From the time the queen took Sha’uri as a host, Apophis knew that Amaunet wasn’t as pleased with him as she could have been. She assured Apophis that she did indeed love him, but she didn’t know what was wrong. Apophis knew, and he knew why she would never elaborate. Amaunet was experiencing Sha’uri’s memories, and Apophis soon realized that Daniel Jackson was disturbing their private moments together as surely as the Tau’ri were disrupting Goa’uld empires. The slave’s personal memories of Daniel Jackson were so overpowering that they were interfering with Amaunet’s reality.

Damn him.

Apophis sat alone in his throne room. There were no slaves to cater to his whims, no Jaffa to guard him. He had wished to be alone and had given orders to that effect. The silence was almost palpable. No one had wished to be in his presence for very long since his departure from Netu. The rumors held that he had been in very bad spirits since leaving, and an angry god was dangerous to be around. The Goa’uld couldn’t blame anyone for keeping their distance. Another source of his own displeasure with his life was his physical appearance. Gods were supposed to be beautiful and perfect. His host body had been too badly damaged by Sokar. He found his physical state was no longer appropriate to a god. The scars could no longer be removed. He had gone too long without the aid of a sarcophagus, and the traces of the scars were now embedded within him permanently.

He needed a new host.

During the early planning stages, he had briefly wondered about the choice he should make in regards to a new host. He always chose hosts wisely for himself, never letting just the beauty of the host overwhelm his decision although physical appearance was taken into great consideration. It was the information stored within intelligent minds that aided his ambition, yet he always tried to find beautiful scholars. He thought carefully. He knew which host Amaunet would desire and approve of if she were still alive.

Once, his Amaunet sat at his side. They would discuss the status of their regime, the affairs of state or about nothing important. They found each other’s company incredibly satisfying. He was content just to be in her presence.

She was his life, his love.

She was … gone. For now.

In her memory, for her amusement and as a gift, he would choose the host she had suggested.

Yes, the memory of her remained, and her idea to take Daniel Jackson as a host had … gained merit. Very soon, Apophis would learn just how strong a bond could be gleaned from two powerful, mated Goa’ulds when their hosts were mated as well.

“My Pharaoh?” a timid voice sounded through the throne room.

Apophis turned toward the voice. A Jaffa had entered without permission. “What is it?” Apophis asked the frightened guard.

“Forgive me, my lord, but you wished to be informed when the Asgard appeared within sensor range. He has contacted us and said he will rendezvous with us tomorrow. There is business pertaining to the Asgard that he must deal with. Also, we will reach Abydos in another two days’ time.”

Two days to reach Abydos. The former host’s home world. Daniel Jackson’s adopted home. If his ship had been running at top speed, they would have reached Abydos already. Unfortunately, there was damage that needed to be repaired, and they were traveling much slower than Apophis was comfortable with. Still, they would be on Abydos soon. Now to set his plan in motion.

“Summon my son, Klorel, and my First Prime. Inform the Asgard that he is welcome here and I wish to meet with him at his earliest convenience.” Apophis added that last part almost out of spite. He was not in the habit of acquiescing to others, but for this particular Asgard, he would do whatever was necessary to please and appease him. “I wish everything to be in readiness before we transport down to Abydos.”

“Yes, my lord,” and the Jaffa scampered out quickly.

Soon, all would be as it should be. And Apophis would begin taking his revenge on Daniel Jackson.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“No.”

“C’mon, Daniel,” Jack almost pleaded. “You’ll have fun. Warm sun, cold beer, pesky fish—”

“What is it with you and fishing? I thought hockey was your obsession.,” Daniel commented as he tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. Fishing brought back too many memories for him. Fish was part of the primary diet on Abydos. At least once every few weeks, Kasuf’s sister would visit. Since their relationship wasn’t quite as close as siblings could hope, Kasuf would invent an important meeting or emergency he would have to go to and take his small family with him, leaving his sister behind to “visit” other family members. Kasuf would take Sha’uri, Daniel and Skaara to a site on the river he had found as a child—a secret site where he swore he could catch more fish than at any other place on the river. They always came back with more than they could eat and would share the overabundance with their neighbors.

The memories came fast and furious. The laughter, the stories, the feeling of a close -knit family enjoying each other’s company—one of the last times they had gone fishing, Skaara and Daniel had caught … and Sha’uri was six months pregnant … Kasuf had just won a major political victory against … and they had just needed a day off from everything and everyone—including Kasuf’s sister. They had enjoyed themselves immensely. It was one of those rare memories of being happy that he didn’t want to add to or diminish yet by going fishing again so soon. Sha’uri hadn’t even been dead two months, and every memory he had with her was precious. Besides, couldn’t Jack look at his desk and see the stacks of paper that were waiting to be checked? The work was piling up!

“I love hockey, but I love to go fishing when we’re on downtime, and since we’re on downtime and it’s not hockey season—”

“You thought you’d go fishing?”

“Exactly. C’mon. We don’t have to go off world for a week, and if I stay at home, I’m gonna have to repaint the deck. I’d really rather go fishing.”

~~~ 

Jack wasn’t too proud to beg Daniel to go with him. First and foremost, he needed to get Daniel away from the SGC for a while. Since their escape from Netu … no, actually since Sha’uri’s death, Daniel had closed himself off from everyone. He had buried himself in so much work, there was no time or room for him to think or feel.

Now, as Janet Fraiser had explained to him just minutes before, there was something medically wrong with Daniel and it stemmed from their ordeal in Netu. The best explanation was that Daniel hadn’t had the opportunity to let the Blood of Sokar pass through his system before they made their great escape. The others had passed out, and the vile concoction worked its way out of them. Daniel hadn’t been as fortunate. Somehow, by not passing out and missing that small window of opportunity, Daniel was measurably weaker and more tired. His system hadn’t recovered from its effects because the adrenaline rush caused by the escape had allowed the potion to soak into every part of his bloodstream and anatomy. He couldn’t sleep and his appetite was gone. And Daniel, being Daniel, always used his insomnia wisely. He worked—and he hid from prying eyes.

As long as Daniel had work to act as a barricade against any inquiries made against something he’d rather not talk about, be it work or health, he was going to use it. It was his way of running and hiding, and whatever Daniel had experienced before, during and after the time he had been “questioned” by Apophis had him running for the hills, figuratively speaking. At least he wasn’t running, literally speaking, but Jack was determined not to let Daniel do this again. After Sha’uri’s funeral, Daniel had entrenched himself in so much work that he forced his mind away feeling the grief that was strong enough to shut him down. Jack had allowed that to happen, and when the emotions broke through the emotional dam Daniel had built up, it hadn’t been pleasant. Jack was grateful to have been there when it happened.

“Look, Teal’c’s visiting his family, Carter and Jacob are in Alaska … that leaves us sitting here twiddling our thumbs with nothing to do,” Jack implored him.

“No, it leaves you here twiddling your thumbs with nothing to do. I’ve got a lot of work to catch up on.” Daniel emphasized his statement by pointing to his desk. “Some of this was due a couple of weeks ago.”

“Great. Now it can be three weeks late. Who’ll know the difference?”

“Your boss?”

“Ya think he’d notice?”

“He’s a smart man, Jack. That’s why he’s a general, and he doesn’t like waiting for paperwork.”

“Daniel—”

 ~~~

Daniel knew Jack wasn’t going to give up on this argument. If he didn’t agree to go, Jack would be in his office every day begging him to go fishing. He wouldn’t get any work done at all. If he gave in … “Okay. I’ll go fishing.”

“Cool! I know this one spot where the fish grow this big,” and he spread his hand far apart, “and the—”

“But not tomorrow.” Daniel interrupted him.

“Why not tomorrow?” Jack asked. He thought he just won the argument.

“Because I’ve got too much to do. Give me one day to catch up on the important work that can’t be put off any longer, and we’ll go the day after tomorrow. Deal?” So much for keeping his Abydonian memories intact.

Jack would have to admit that the day after tomorrow sounded reasonable or so Daniel hoped. Luckily, he did. “Okay. Day after tomorrow. And don’t think you’re going to weasel out of going. I’m a colonel. I can make people disappear, you know.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ve heard you guys in Covert Ops are good at that. Now, will you go? I’ve got work to do.” Daniel waved his hand toward the door.

“I’m going, I’m going,” Jack said, his voice triumphant. “Trust me. You’ll have fun!” His voice echoed through the halls and back into Daniel’s office.

Daniel guessed it was a good thing Jack couldn’t hear him say, “Yeah, right.” Jack would have fun; there was no doubt about that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Jack hurried down the corridor to the elevator, pressed the button for level 21, waited for the doors to open and then walked quickly to the infirmary to be met by one worried doctor and an equally worried general.

“Well?” General Hammond asked his second-in-command.

“He’s agreed to go fishing with me the day after tomorrow. He’s got a few things that have to be done first, but he said he’d go. I’ll make sure we get stuck at the cabin for about a week. Won’t even let him take a laptop with us.”

Both doctor and general looked relieved. Neither one of them would have to make it an order for Daniel to take some down time. “Did you have to threaten him?” Janet asked him.

“No. I think he knows me well enough by now to just agree with the wisdom of my vast experience after putting up a token argument.,” Jack answered, knowing his voice held a touch of self-satisfaction in it.

“In other words, Colonel,” General Hammond corrected, “he knew you would pester him to distraction unless he agreed to go.”

“Pretty much, yes, sir.” Jack turned to Janet. “Okay, now what exactly is wrong with him?”

Janet sat down and opened the file on her desk. “Daniel’s dopamine levels are slightly elevated. I can only guess that it’s an after-effect of the Blood of Sokar’s hallucinogenic properties. It’s made him agitated, and that’s increased his physical activity. The rise is so slight that normally I wouldn’t worry about it, but his appetite’s gone, so he’s not getting enough nourishment to compensate for the rise in his physical activity. I asked him to reduce his caffeine intake on the chance it might be having an adverse effect on the Blood of Sokar as well, but I haven’t noticed that it’s helped the situation any. He’s working himself into exhaustion and finally dropping off into a dreamless, intermittent, exhausted sleep while his insomnia refuses to let him get the rest he needs. He knows the situation, but there seems to be some outside interference that is preventing him from getting any extra rest that he can.”

The general didn’t look relieved, but he did seem more content with the information. “The doctor was commenting that recent events have kept SG-1 busier than usual, so Doctor Jackson hasn’t had time to recuperate from any event before another happens. That’s why I’m putting your team on downtime for a week, Colonel.”

“Is that going to be long enough?” Jack asked.

“It’s all I can give you, Jack. Doctor Fraiser can re-examine him after a week and we’ll re-assess the situation then. I can’t have an entire team down for a great length of time. You know that, but Doctor Fraiser thinks that it should be long enough for her to get a more accurate picture of what’s going on with him.”

“Doc?”

“One week’s R&R may not solve all of his medical problems, Colonel,” Janet told him, “but it might alleviate the immediate ones.” He’ll need complete rest, specifically—”

“Yeah, Doc. I’ve got it. He’s gotta eat and sleep. I’ll even sing him a lullaby if that’s the only thing that will work. I’ll drug his warm milk. I’ll force-feed oatmeal if I have to. You said yourself that it’s only a slight rise, right? It should go back to normal as soon as he’s had some rest?”

“I hope so. I need you to watch him for any drastic changes in his behavior. Dopamine is very similar in effect to adrenaline. It can affect parts of the brain that control movement, emotions, and even those areas that experience physical sensations like pleasure and pain.”

“How bad’s that gonna be?” Jack asked her.

“It could be very bad. His emotions are on a bit of a roller coaster ride. When you first returned from Netu, he was rather cheerful. Right now, he seems to be depressed. As far as movement goes, I haven’t been able to detect anything odd, so he might not be affected in that way. Physical sensations could be greatly exaggerated or he might not feel anything at all. Also, his dopamine levels could take a nosedive and go well below normal. What I’m saying, Colonel, is keep an eye on him for the next week. The Blood Of Sokar doesn’t seem to be leaving his system very quickly, but he should be back to his normal hyperactive self by the time you return.” Doctor Fraiser didn’t sound very confident, but sometimes that was the way she felt when dealing with some alien bacteria or illness that seemed to remain a mystery to her.

“Right, Doc. Don’t worry. I’m an expert at keeping an eye on Daniel. You’ve never been on a mission with us. I get a lot of practice.”

Doctor Fraiser could only be thankful for small favors.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The fires placed around the throne room reflected off the gold-laden walls, helping to illuminate the room in a muted, comforting light. Apophis sat on his throne, the golden light shining around him, all a pale comparison to the scheming gleam in the System Lord’s eyes as Klorel walked into the throne room with Kintac close behind. “You sent for us, Father?”

Klorel knew he was his father’s favorite child and heir to Apophis’ territories. Many times, Apophis had said that he showed great promise as a leader; he only needed time to gain experience. He had the ruthless nature but not the patient temperament needed to watch his plans come to fruition. Still, there was time. Gods had all the time in the world. “Klorel, Kintac, tomorrow I will meet with the Asgard Loki.”

“Then you will continue with your plan to resurrect our queen?” Kintac asked him.

“Yes. Kintac, I wish you to personally serve the Asgard when he arrives. I would not want him to think that I am insulting him by giving his care over to someone not worthy. A First Prime is the reaching hand of a god. I think Loki will be pleased by such a gesture.”

“As you wish, my pharaoh,.” Kintac bowed his head to his lord and master.

“Klorel, I have a task for you as well.”

“Yes, Father?”

“When we arrive on Abydos, I will need you to take the Jaffa Sar’ac with you and retrieve your host’s father. As he is also father to my queen’s host;, my plans require his assistance.”

“Sar’ac?” Klorel thought for a moment. The name meant nothing to him. Of course, it was easier to remember names when his host’s consciousness wasn’t thrashing around trying to stop him from following his orders. This Skaara still did not understand that he was nothing. Struggling would not avail him anything. Apophis declared that the host’s father would be brought before him. It would be so despite Skaara’s imprisoned protests. “I am not familiar with that Jaffa, Father. Is he one of the higher ranks?”

“No. He was one of Sokar’s Jaffa. He tortured Varos.”

Klorel closed his eyes at the thought. “Your Grand Vizier.” Varos was the only Goa’uld Apophis trusted completely—or as near to completely as any Goa’uld could come.

“Yes. I, myself, removed Varos from the dying host and placed him in the Jaffa that tortured him. I then destroyed Sar’ac’s former prim’ta by my own hand as the Jaffa swore fealty to me. Varos requires re-implantation. He can only survive for a few more days within the Jaffa. If Varos’ time arrives sooner than expected, Sar’ac must accompany you when you seek out this slave on Abydos.”

“Kasuf,” Klorel said aloud.

“What?” Apophis asked, his voice sounding surprised at the word.

“Kasuf. That is the name of my host’s father.”

Apophis eyes glowed. Why had he mentioned the slave’s name? It was unimportant, yet Klorel thought it important enough to mention? The words he told Apophis on the ha’tak above the Tau’ri home world were remembered. His host was strong. This host, this Skaara, was influencing him again. No matter. Once Kasuf was within Apophis’ grasp, everything else would easily fall into place.

“Then you must find this Kasuf and bring him before me.” Apophis looked at them, his mouth curving into a slight smile. Whatever he was planning, Klorel didn’t know the extent of it—he wouldn’t know until they were closer to Abydos, but he believed that his father’s current ambitious undertaking had an underlying motivating factor—vengeance. Once the plan was placed in motion, his father would have his queen and ultimate revenge on the Tau’ri, Daniel Jackson.

No one would stop Apophis.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

General Hammond took a rare, leisurely walk around the lower levels of the SGC. It wasn’t often that events permitted him the luxury of a stroll. Seven of the teams, including SG-1, were on downtime. There were only three teams off world. The others were on base writing reports, doing research or on standby.

It was peaceful.

It was quiet.

It wouldn’t last.

Hammond decided to walk toward Daniel’s office to see how the young man was doing and, as if on cue, Hammond heard, “Dammit, Daniel, you’re not weaseling your way out of this fishing trip.”

So much for peace and quiet.

“Who says I’m weaseling? General Vidrine wants that translation SG-8 brought back with them in double quick time. Those were his words. He called me personally.”

Oh, he did? Hammond thought to himself. General Vidrine didn’t mention it to me.

“Let one of the other scientists handle it.” Jack’s voice was getting just a tad angry, but just a tad.

“Who else around here, other than Teal’c, knows how to speak Goa’uld? I’ve been trying for a few years to set up classes to teach the SG teams some words other than Kree.”

He had been doing that, Hammond admitted to himself. Unfortunately, everyone was always too busy to try to learn the enemy’s language despite the fact that knowing every aspect of your enemy was the first step in defeating them. Besides, that would be another job for Daniel, and goodness knows he had enough on his plate as it was.

“Even you don’t make the time to learn any Goa’uld, and you have both me and Teal’c on the same team.”

Hammond could hear that tense edge in Daniel’s voice. Fraiser did say that the dopamine levels could put him on a bit of a roller coaster. Luckily, Jack knew how to calm Daniel down when things got too close. And things had been getting far too close lately.

“Yeah, I know,” Hammond heard Jack sigh. “Look, I’ll talk to Hammond, see if he can set something up so we can learn enough of the snaky words to bluff our way out of a problem. After we go fishing, okay?”

There was a pause, then an audible sigh. “You’re serious?” Daniel’s voice belied his skepticism.

“Yeah, I’m serious. Now about this translation Vidrine wants, give it to Rothman. He knows enough basic Goa’uld to get started, I think, and you can give him whatever notes you’ve written up so he can translate the rest.” Jack’s voice had taken on that ‘“okay, you’re right, I’m a skunk, can we go now?’” tone.

“Robert’s swamped, too, but he does owe me a favor.”

“Just one?” Jack’s voice was teasing. Hammond knew that Daniel gave up a lot of free time to do the work the other scientists couldn’t do. The general was going to have to do something about that. He made a mental note to tell his superiors that Doctor Jackson needed a much bigger staff.

“Well, more than one.” Now Daniel’s voice was sounding tired.

“Good. And don’t forget. Tomorrow. We’re going. No question. Just remember that time and fish wait for no man.” There was the sarcastic colonel everyone had learned to appreciate.

“Right, Jack.”

“And no laptops, either. This is a vacation. Downtime.”

“Cold beer, pesky fish and no laptops. Right.” Was Doctor Jackson sounding a little better? Or at least a little calmer?

Believing that the two men were about to come out of the office and knowing that they would not have wanted to be overheard, Hammond decided that discretion was the better part of valor and tried to duck out of view. Fortunately, Jack came walking out of Daniel’s office alone, but he also caught a glimpse of the general before he could successfully move from inquisitive eyes. Together, they walked toward the elevators.

“Did you hear any of that, sir?” Jack asked him.

“Enough. I’ll call General Vidrine and tell him that Doctor Rothman will be taking over the translation.”

“Seems a little strange that General Vidrine called and gave Daniel orders without checking with you first, isn’t it?”

“More than strange, and I’ll be asking him about that when I speak with him inquiring about his interest in an untranslated artifact. Any idea what it is that he’s wanting Doctor Jackson to work on?” Hammond asked him.

“Yes, sir,” Jack answered as they entered the elevator and punched the button for level 28. “SG-8’s linguist thinks it’s a description of a weapon. At least that’s what they’ve written up in their report.”

“That one?” Hammond asked. “I was wondering what the artifact looked like. There wasn’t a picture included in the file. What’s Doctor Jackson’s opinion?”

“He thinks SG-8’s linguist is suffering from the candy dish conundrum.”

The elevator door opened and the two men walked out toward the command room. “The candy dish conundrum? What is that exactly?”

Jack stopped, turned to the general, and said, “I asked him that myself. He said that all archaeologists go through a stage where every artifact they find has some major religious or ceremonial significance.” Jack stopped talking for a moment, then must have noticed Hammond’s eyebrows rising at the archaeological references. “Those are his words, not mine. He told me that an archaeologist could find a decorated bowl and think that the high priest used it as the divine vessel that held holy water in some major religious event, and it turns out to be nothing more than a candy dish in someone’s house.”

“The candy dish conundrum?” Hammond almost laughed. Yes, that made sense. “And this particular artifact in question, what does Doctor Jackson think it is?”

“He thinks it’s a plaque that was on a large beer barrel. It’s the recipe.”

Before Hammond returned to his duties—so much for his stroll through the base—he made one final comment. “A man that can make moonshine strong enough to strip rust off iron discovers a recipe for beer. What are the odds?”

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

It was a rare day when an Asgard came at the summons of a Goa’uld.

Apophis gazed down at the Asgard, his visitor’s diminutive size in sharp contrast with the Goa’uld’s towering frame, but Loki held the field with his cunning intellect. Apophis knew that he, like all Goa’ulds, had to be polite to this particular Asgard, as they were with all Asgards. They were still one of the most technologically advanced races in the galaxy; and just one Asgard ship could destroy several Goa’uld ha’taks. It would not be to his advantage to anger this particular Asgard since Loki had something Apophis wanted very much, so Apophis was polite, much to the surprise of Kintac and Klorel who stood silently nearby.

“Welcome, Loki. I trust your trip was successful,” Apophis commented in a friendly tone.

“It was,” Loki answered. “The Asgard concerns have been addressed, therefore my duty to them is completed for the moment.” The Asgard regarded Apophis for a moment, and then said, “I am curious about your reasons for requesting my presence here. Your message was intriguing but not very forthcoming, Your Majesty.”

The words “Your Majesty” were strange words to Apophis, yet they seemed to be a form of respect. Perhaps the Asgard had gleaned the title from some primitive race somewhere beyond Goa’uld influence? Or from the Tau’ri? They were the Asgards’ newest pets. Regardless, Apophis noted the title with some interest, then said, “My request is simple. I wish to engage your rather unique talents for a personal matter. I will recompense you by any reward you feel adequate. Also, you will have my personal gratitude.” Oh, but the sincerity was practically dripped from the System Lord’s words. “Allow me to say that I found what may be your solution to my problem quite intriguing.”

Acting extremely curious, Loki stepped closer to the System Lord. “May I ask what this personal matter is?”

“My mate, Amaunet, was cruelly murdered. I understand that you may have the technology to reverse this.” Apophis’ gaze did not leave the smaller alien.

Loki inclined his head, his bulbous, dark eyes closing slightly as if in deep thought about his answer. “I have technology that can alter time, but I have experienced success only on a very limited scale. I have never utilized the device to reverse death on a sentient being before nor could I attempt to do so more than once. The device emits a powerful energy field that can be detected, and if used twice, I would be discovered. If the Asgard become aware of my experiments, I can assure you that they would stop them. However, I am willing to make such an attempt, but only once. There are parameters that must be specifically met to assure any measure of success. There may be no guarantee that the process will be successful. That you must know before we speak further.”

Apophis knew from the beginning that this was a possibility. Even for the gods, sometimes dead meant dead. No coming back. No matter. He would make the attempt. “I do realize that there are risks. I will accept them. What are these parameters?”

Loki gazed thoughtfully at the Goa’uld for a moment again. An Asgard’s stare could unnerve anyone, but Apophis was a Goa’uld with a purpose. That made him a formidable creature to behold. Finally, Loki answered, “The body must be preserved for the device to detect the correct timing and sequence of events within the cellular structure. If a certain amount of deterioration has set in, the cellular structure will have deteriorated beyond recognition. The device will not be able to read the temporal process and thereby reverse it. There will be nothing I can do. The device’s capabilities are only successful within a certain amount of time before decay.”

“The body was buried in the Abydonian desert by the host’s mate.”

“Desert? Yes. Good. That is encouraging. The dry desert air will have preserved the material to a certain degree. May I ask when this occurred?” Loki’s gaze never left Apophis.

“Fifty-three Abydonian days ago. I have her death calculated to the exact moment if necessary.” Apophis had guessed correctly that the Asgard would need to know the duration of time the host had lain in the desert sands. He had meticulously tracked that one moment in time down to the second. Yes, Teal’c, I know when you destroyed my queen. It is a moment in time you will regret until the hour of your death, which I assure you will be soon. And by my hand.

Loki’s head inclined … quite possibly considering the time frame. “That is good. The body should still be preserved within the parameters needed to assure any success. May I ask how she died?”

“I have been told that my former First Prime, Teal’c, killed her. I do not know the exact manner of her death, but I would assume that the Shol’va fired a staff weapon. He was and still is quite proficient with the weapon.”

Loki seemed to regard this for a moment. His eyes closed, then opened again. “That is unfortunate, but not insurmountable. The wound may cause a disruption of tissue that the device may not be able to reverse completely. I have one more question, Your Majesty. What level of control did Queen Amaunet enforce over the host?”

Apophis’ eyes took on a rather proud look. “My queen held absolute control over the slave. She was quite accomplished.”

“I mean no disrespect, but this is vital. How strong were the host and the queen?”

“This is important?”

“It is. There are many factors that must be considered when altering the timeline of a living creature. When considering the resurrection of a host and symbiote, there are more complications that must be dealt with.”

“My queen was exceptionally strong-willed. She was ruthless in her objectives and bore no denial of her demands.” Apophis paused for a moment, then seeing that the Asgard seemed interested in knowing more, he added, “Amaunet was born to one of the most powerful ruling bloodlines of Goa’ulds. She was a queen and a goddess in her own right before joining her forces with mine. She was once consort to Amun, but left him when she discovered that the Goa’uld Chons was Amun’s offspring with Mut, another Queen Goa’uld. She had not given Amun her permission to mate with another Queen. In another show of weakness, Amun allied his forces with Ra’s and, like many Goa’ulds who wished to ride to glory on the dregs of the most powerful System Lord in existence instead of seeking it for themselves, had changed his name to reflect his new status as a servant of Ra. He became Amun-Re. This lack of individuality and personal motivation had proven to Amaunet that her mate was less ambitious than she had expected. In disgust, she left him and joined with me. I believe that she found a mate with political aspirations equal to her own and a regime wealthy enough to suit her needs. We were well matched. There was no internal turmoil or palace deceit. There was only the Pharaoh and his Queen ruling a dynasty that grew in size each passing century. We created the Goa’uld order that exists today.”

“I have heard of the impressive accomplishments of your queen, majesty,” Loki said quietly. “Her name is known among the Asgard. May I ask about the strength of the host?”

Apophis thought for a moment. “The host was strong. There were times she was able to surface, but Amaunet quickly subdued her into submission. The initial blending was difficult. The host fought, but not for long.”

“Longer than a host normally would?”

“Yes. Amaunet had difficulties, but they were quickly dealt with.” Apophis face practically beamed with pride.

“Again, Majesty, I mean no disrespect, but if the host was troublesome, why was she chosen?”

“The host was an Abydonian slave known as Sha’uri. What attracted both my queen and me were her beauty and her spirit. Given her home planet’s lack of technology, she should not have possessed any sophistication to fight Amaunet’s will, yet we underestimated her. Her willfulness and propensity to fight my queen caused some difficulty, but Amaunet was well practiced in dominating a host. The host continued to fight after knowing that there was no hope of success. Soon her struggles became ineffective. She eventually weakened just as all the others. They soon learn that they are nothing. Only the Goa’uld matter.” Apophis sat back on his throne, content in the knowledge that he was right. How easily slaves forgot the truth. The host itself meant nothing. It had always been that way and would always be that way. They existed as mere vessels to carry a Goa’uld, yet they thought themselves to be so much more.

Loki’s head inclined again. Apophis found Asgard physical affectations very annoying, but he would never mention it. He couldn’t say or do anything to annoy this Asgard. Finally, Loki said, “Majesty, given that both host and symbiote may be preserved in the sands of Abydos and that both were uniquely strong-willed, these facts bode well as indicators for success. However, there are circumstances present that I may not be able to reverse. I cannot guarantee a positive outcome to the experiment, but you have my assurance that I will attempt to accomplish what you ask.”

“I only ask that you make the attempt. We will arrive at Abydos tomorrow. Is there anything you need in preparation?”

“No. All will be ready when we arrive. If it pleases Your Majesty, I will return to my ship to prepare the equipment needed for the task.”

Apophis majestically inclined his head as if giving his permission for Loki to leave. “Of course. Kintac is at your disposal. If you require any assistance, you need only ask.”

Loki bowed his head, then turned and walked out of the throne room. Apophis watched the Asgard walk away, place his hand on the entrance of the room as he turned at the doorway and disappear from sight just as the entrance was sealed.

~~~

As Loki passed by the doorway, he placed a listening device on the door—one that would quickly absorb whatever color it was placed on and seemingly disappear from view. He did not leave the area. Once alone in the passageway, he brought out a small receiver unit and listened to the conversation in the room.

“You are trusting this Asgard, Father. Are you certain of this?” Klorel’s voice sounded first.

“Quite certain. Loki has agreed to help me. If he succeeds, our queen will be returned to us. If he fails, then he will die. Kintac, make certain that you are near Loki at every moment while we are on Abydos. Should he fail us, then kill him.”

“Of course, my lord.” Kintac’s voice sounded louder. Obviously, he was near the listening device.

“And your other plan, Father?”

“My other plan?” Apophis’ voice sounded almost playful, like he was teasing his son.

“Yes, Father,” Klorel’s voice almost sounded teasing. “There is more to this than you have told us.”

“Indeed there is, Klorel. I have plans for Daniel Jackson. And that, my son, will be told to you once we reach Abydos.”

Loki heard the sounds of marching footfalls and quickly switched off the receiver. The next moment, he was enveloped in a bright light and disappeared from the passageway scant seconds before the marching Jaffa troop filed by.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Damn it!” Daniel exclaimed as he dropped another coffee mug. He didn’t realize that the coffee was that hot until it sloshed over the rim. As he bent down to clean up the mess, he cut his finger on the sharp edge of the shattered ceramic mug.

“Damn it!” That hurt.

He knew it was only his dopamine levels out of whack, he knew that every part of him was still trying to overcome the Blood Of Sokar. The pain hurt more than it should, the coffee felt hotter than it was, his clothes were scratching his skin, and he was utterly and totally pissed. He was tired, but too wired to sleep. He had circles under his eyes and his body screamed for rest only to find insomnia prevented him from getting any sleep. Janet’s diagnoses were right on target.

He was a mess.

Jack was right. He needed a week away from here. He had no doubt that Janet had given Jack the idea, and for once, Daniel was grateful for his friends’ meddling. Jack would make him eat and sleep, and he had no inclination to fight it. Sleep was just not what it once was.

For a year, he slept beside his wife, Sha’uri cuddled safely in his arms. Happy, contented, peaceful slumber for the first time in his life. Then for three years, sleep was another means for the nightmares to attack him. He couldn’t remember a single night passing where he slept the night through and didn’t have any nightmares of Sha’uri being taken from him repeatedly.

Now, sleep was just a way to get from one day to the next without being awake to feel the loneliness, but the loneliness was there. It came into his dreams. The pain went deep and hadn’t lessened. Nothing helped. Not work, not distractions, not emergencies, nothing. Everywhere he looked was a reminder of his failure to rescue his wife. Every artifact, every discovery, every success against the enemy was a testament to the fact that they had traveled to countless planets and never found her—and when they did … What was the point of any of it when the most important thing in your life was gone?

The point was the survival of the human race. What’s one person’s sacrifice compared to that?

Now he was really getting depressed. Seesawing dopamine levels and emotional roller coasters or so Janet had told him. And everything hurt. His eyes were hurting because the lights were too bright. His hand was hurting because he had just cut it on the broken mug. His fingers were hurting because the coffee had been too hot. His—

“Enough!” he almost shouted. He had to try to fight this. This depression was not going away. He tried thinking good thoughts to try to force himself to feel better, but thoughts of Sha’uri, no matter how wonderful, depressed him further since she was no longer alive. Skaara, no, he was still missing. Kasuf? He was alive. He was just a few moments away by Stargate. Kasuf had wanted him to stay on Abydos after the funeral, but Janet had not allowed it. Daniel had been suffering the after-effects of the ribbon device and Janet was worried. Despite that fact that Abydos was the only true home he had ever known, and for the first time in a very long time he felt the need to have family around, it wasn’t going to happen. Damn Goa’ulds.

Enough bad memories … what was a good memory? Daniel thought for a moment … Kasuf had a delicious sense of humor. He was very proper in public but loved to smile and laugh when he was alone with his family. He would tell jokes that would have everyone laughing so hard that they would start to cry. He could tell such moving stories that he would captivate an entire audience without trying. Sha’uri had said that Daniel was the only other person she had ever known that could do that.

Daniel smiled at the memory.

In a few moments, he was feeling a little better. He wasn’t hurting as much, but he knew that it was going to take a few more days to actually feel normal again.

Yeah, a fishing trip would probably be the best thing for him. He needed to make some good memories since so many of the memories he had been collecting lately were anything but good. It wouldn’t be like the fishing trips he used to take with Kasuf, but it could be fun if he let it.

He was determined to try.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

I hold my good son close to me, the wound in his chest bleeding, his breath rasping.

Dan’yer’s heart stops. He breathes his last breath. I am holding on to my son’s dead body knowing that I will be dead soon. No one would come back to find us. Our bodies would never be buried with the rest of our family.

Kasuf woke.

It was the same nightmare that had haunted him more nights than he cared to remember. He knew the meaning behind it … death and pain were stalking his good son. Kasuf knew it was only a nightmare, but he believed it to be prophetic. It was one prophecy that couldn’t come true. Dan’yer had suffered enough.

The nightmares kept coming, night after night. Sleep wasn’t the respite from daily toils any longer. The horrifying dreams followed Kasuf every night, depriving him of much needed rest.

It wasn’t always so.

Once, he could sleep easily in his tent knowing that his son Skaara was either sleeping on the far side of the tent or staying with Dan’yer and Sha’uri in their small house. With absolute certainty, he knew the daily routine would be followed. His three children would wake early and travel to what Dan’yer called the map room and the gate room. Then, still early in the morning, they would return to the city so Dan’yer could teach the people to read the written language so long denied to them. Kasuf wouldn’t see them at the morning meal, but the evening meal was one in which the entire family would meet. Kasuf used to smile at his good son’s enjoyment of the evening meal. When one had no family for so long, family meals would be unheard of. What Kasuf took for granted, Dan’yer treasured.

Kasuf grew accustomed to that small ritual as well as the comfort of having his loved ones close by. It wasn’t until his children were ripped from his life that he realized how he had come to depend on them.

That was when the first nightmares came. Those first few months waiting for some word of their safety were a torment for Kasuf. There were times he wanted to tear down the stones burying the Chappa’ai in order to contact Dan’yer just so he could hear one of his children’s voices again, but he didn’t. Dan’yer had warned them about the dangers, about keeping the Chappa’ai covered for one year and Kasuf adhered to that request. Even when Sha’uri returned carrying her unborn child, Kasuf didn’t unbury the gate --  much to his shame since that meant his daughter and good son only had one day together before the demons took her away again.

Nightmares soon became reality. Sha’uri was now buried near her mother. Kasuf visited the graves often, telling his wife of all the village’s events, telling his daughter about Dan’yer’s adventures. Nothing eased the pain of loss for him, not even sleep. The dark dreams of longing to see his wife, feel her hair run through his fingers, hear the sound of her voice in the dark of night, see her in his tent … his loss of his wife still felt as if a knife was buried in his heart. Sha’uri, how he longed to hear her laugh again, hear her voice sounding with her husband and brother’s as they discussed new discoveries they found in the buried chambers …

All gone. Yet, Kasuf had to believe that his boys would return home someday. He couldn’t bear to think of anything else.

Skaara was still lost to him … to them. Dan’yer still searched for his brother and stepson …

Dan’yer. His good son. It was the nightmares about Dan’yer that troubled Kasuf the most. Dan’yer held the most dangerous task of all. He resisted the demons. His tribe had destroyed many of them and their Jaffa. Kasuf’s fears for Dan’yer were those of a father knowing that one day his sons would meet each other on opposite sides of a battlefield and the outcome would be fatal for one of them.

Those were the greatest nightmares Kasuf faced—losing another of his children to the demons. Yet he didn’t lose hope. He believed that one day his sons would return to him … but even that belief didn’t stop the nightmares.

Yet, nightmares or no, Kasuf had duties to perform, duties that had been the responsibility of the chief elder since the early days. Before dawn came, Kasuf left his tent and walked about the city streets. He forced his thoughts away from his own troubles and concentrated on his duties and the city itself.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Vorash was an unfriendly planet, mostly desert and little greenery. Unlike other populated desert planets like Abydos, there were no ancient cities or residing civilizations. There were no ruins to marvel at or artifacts to discover. It was an inhospitable but survivable planet that had nothing to offer anyone.

No one, that is, except the Tok’ra.

Deep beneath the dunes lay a myriad of tunnels built by a remarkable technology still not understood by those who hunted the Tok’ra. Quickly excavated and quickly collapsible, the tunnels had lain hidden beneath the surface on many planets, all under the seeking eyes of the Goa’uld. On Vorash, the drifting sands helped to camouflage the tunnels and the continually blowing wind hid any signs of the Tok’ra presence.

Inhospitable? Yes.

Practical? Definitely.

Convenient? Definitely not.

Mordecai had lived on a variety of planets since he left his position as instructor to the young and became host to Malthus, but desert planets were among his least favorite. The harsh conditions on the surface meant that they had to spend most of his time in the underground tunnels. It was a complaint he knew his symbiote was familiar with. Malthus’ recent experiments had lasted for several days, those days spent secluded in a laboratory watching cells split and then fail. He longed for something, anything to distract him from the tediousness of the repetition.

‘….How much longer, Malthus? …’

‘Not much longer. This was my last sample.’ Both host and symbiote watched as the final sample deteriorated …

‘….Now what? Try again? …’

Vorash was a well thought out hiding place for the Tok’ra, but everything from food to equipment had to be transported there. Basic supplies were in great demand and had to be rationed out to each Tok’ra. Items other than basic supplies were in even greater demand. This proved to be a difficult obstacle with the scientific community within the Tok’ra commune. What was a scientist to do when an experiment had to be ran many times and not just the number of times the experimental rations allowed?

Mordecai felt Malthus’ frustration when his symbiote thought about the futility of running the experiment again even if he had another sample. He knew the results would be the same, and he would just be wasting precious resources. He couldn’t reproduce the effect in a laboratory. It could only happen naturally, and there was little chance that he would ever get a viable sample to work with again. .

‘….Can I do anything to help? …’

'No. There is nothing to be done.’

Mordecai “sat” back within the confines of his mind and let Malthus have full control. This was a time when Malthus needed quiet to think …

 ~~~

Malthus regarded his now non-existent supply of genetic material. He needed more, but the chances of obtaining any were slim. Goa’uld Queens were well protected behind their Jaffa and their Pharaohs’ protection. There were a few so-called royal physicians to aid matters when the sarcophagus and the healing devices weren’t readily available for the pharaohs and the queens, but none of them could be trusted to obtain a sample. Malthus only needed a small amount of genetic material. He could filter out the host’s portion to leave him an unsullied sample. It didn’t even have to be fresh. It could be …

Malthus sat up straight in his chair. He remembered! How could he have forgotten? There was a sample readily available to him. There was a queen buried in the desert sands of Abydos. The host’s family had buried Amaunet there just two months earlier. Yes! He could get a sample easily from …

No, he couldn’t.

Malthus remembered that Amaunet’s host had been the wife of Daniel Jackson, and the Tok’ra were now friends of the Tau’ri. If he just went to Abydos and “appropriated” the necessary amount of genetic material, he could jeopardize that “friendship.” It wasn’t that Malthus really cared about the Tau’ri. They were primitive and not able to understand that the Tok’ra had a more important agenda that did not include catering to the Tau’ri every time they needed something, but the Tok’ra Council were rather fond of them, mostly because of Jacob Carter and the help they offered Selmak. Malthus would have to go to Earth and obtain permission from Daniel Jackson to exhume his wife’s body. Barring that, he would have to go to Abydos and ask the host’s family. Given the Abydonian’s respect for the dead and belief of certain punishment when disturbing the dead without reason, he knew that he would be refused permission from the family, but perhaps he could persuade Daniel Jackson. After all, the man was an archaeologist. Digging up the dead was a profession with him. Surely he could have no objections to his request for such a great cause.

'….You believe that Daniel Jackson will give you permission? He searched for his wife for almost three years. She died recently. He will still be grieving …’

Malthus considered what his host said. Was it too soon? It didn’t matter. They needed the genetic sample before it degraded any more. 'I’ll ask politely,' he thought back to his host. 'I’ll tell him as much as I can without telling him everything. He’s a scientist. He’ll understand the urgency. And if he doesn’t, I’m sure Colonel O’Neill or Major Carter will understand and explain the importance of the research, both militarily and scientifically.’

'We have to try.' Malthus couldn’t argue the point with his host. Even though he didn’t like the Tau’ri, he didn’t want to deliberately hurt someone, either, certainly not an ally. Still, his research was too important to worry about the feelings of one obscure individual.

'….He’s not just any individual, Malthus. He’s the one who deciphered the Stargate for the Tau’ri and helped kill Ra. He’s considered exceptional by many of our allies and acquaintances, and he’s well liked by most of the Tok’ra. You’d better be very polite when you talk to him. I don’t think Jacob or Selmak will let you get away with hurting him …’

'I’ll try not to hurt him, but we need that material.’

'….Then I wish you luck, my friend, but if I even sense that you’re about to do something stupid or say something wrong, I’ll be the one doing the talking. Understood? …’

‘Yes, I understand.'

Pushy host, Malthus thought to himself. He felt a mental “kick” by his host and laughed. It wasn’t the first time he was grateful for sharing a complementary pairing. Mordecai the teacher and Malthus the scientist had a congenial blending, each able to use the knowledge of the other to enhance his own studies. Mordecai might not always like the way Malthus went about his business, but he respected the scientist, and Malthus truly respected his host—even if he did have to let Mordecai do the talking now and again. ‘I promise, I won’t force the issue, but I will get that material. Somehow..’ Already anticipating success, Malthus called for his assistant. “Donan!”

Donan ran into the room expecting to see Malthus either exultant because an experiment was a success or ready to destroy the laboratory because the experiment had failed again. Instead, he found an exuberant Malthus pacing the room, talking to himself, making plans. “Get the team together. Exhumation and containment equipment should suffice. We must go to Earth as soon as possible.”

‘….Malthus, you are to meet with the Council in a few hours …’

The Tok’ra stopped still in his tracks, his excitement only slightly abated. “Donan, I must attend the Council meeting later today. We’ll leave tomorrow and prepare for a short trip, but bring weapons. We may need them.”

Donan didn’t stop to wonder, he just turned to carry out Malthus’ orders. Whatever they were about to do should be an interesting excursion. All trips involving the Tau’ri were interesting.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Angrboda stood silently as she watched Loki walk to his laboratory. Her mate was decidedly silent, his manner aloof and mysterious. She had been opposed to his plan of action, but Loki was determined to succeed, no matter what the cost.

From her vantage point, she could see Loki wave his hand over a wall panel. A small drawer ejected from another hidden panel. It was the location of Loki’s more delicate technological devices. She watched as he meticulously sorted through the objects stored in orderly rows in the drawer. She could hear him muttering to himself as he searched for … ah, yes. He found what he was looking for. Very carefully, he pulled two very tiny disks from the assortment. It was two tiny, almost metallic-looking disks, both miniscule when compared to the small appendage—two small neural implants.

In Loki’s hands were the weapons he needed to help the plan to succeed.

Yes. The means of revenge. Subtle, easily delivered with an absolutely assured success. The hand that held the disks would destroy the one whose hand had destroyed their children.

Loki would have what he had brought them there for. He would have his long sought for revenge.

“Innocents will be harmed by our actions,” she said, her voice filling the room.

“I will protect all who I am able,” Loki answered as she approached him.

“Apophis has given you his instructions,” she stated.

“He has. We are to restore Queen Amaunet to life. He is also making plans to capture Daniel Jackson.” Loki placed the small disks into a protective container and then placed it with the portable equipment he would take with him to Abydos.

Angrboda had never heard Loki speak so dispassionately of another living being. His attitude toward the Tau’ri was one of an indulgent parent to a recalcitrant child, but like Thor, he truly liked them. Yet, to be so cold toward one of them … “Daniel Jackson—”

“Daniel Jackson will survive. I will take all precautions to ensure that, but I cannot prevent him from being harmed. That will be necessary for us to claim vengeance on Apophis.

“Any harmful action endured by Daniel Jackson will provoke a negative reaction from O’Neill. That, in turn, will cause Thor to administer punishment for those actions. His punishment may prove to be more dire than we would expect.”

Angrboda spoke the truth to remind Loki of the dangerous path he was walking. Revenge knew no bounds, but despite her warnings and no matter what the personal cost, Loki would gain his vengeance over Apophis. She knew this without doubt.

“I will take full responsibility for our actions. I will pay any penalty Thor wishes to impart, but Apophis will pay for his crimes. The right is ours to take. Thor will not dare argue that.”

“No,” Angrboda answered calmly. Her own anger at the Goa’uld was great as Loki’s, but more reasonable minds would not see the situation as they did.. “He will not deny us our right. He swore before Odin and the Asgard Council that he would stand at our side and aid us in any manner necessary. We are acting without him.”

They had waited for this moment for long years. Thor had deliberated over every aspect of his plan, studied every angle, considered every contingency. The opportunity had arrived. Loki was in the moment, yet he and Angrboda were alone and without help. “Thor is engaged with other concerns at the moment. Until the negotiations with the border worlds are completed, he could not leave, and we cannot wait. We must act now.”

“Our need to act now will not be questioned. Using Daniel Jackson will be.” Angrboda was a very patient Asgard . Being with Loki all those ages, she had to be. She, too, had waited for this moment for centuries, but to use a Tau’ri …”Loki, if permanent harm befalls Daniel Jackson—”

“It will not. My plan may not be perfect, but Daniel Jackson will survive and perhaps gain some measure of revenge himself. I know it is not within his nature to seek exactitude, but he will claim it nonetheless. And I will make restitution to him for his suffering.”

Angrboda looked as puzzled as an Asgard possibly could. “How will you compensate him for all that Apophis has inflicted on him and his family? On what will happen to him?”

“By returning to him what Apophis has taken.”

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Daniel looked up from the paperwork on his desk to the picture of Sha’uri sitting beside him. He wanted to reach out and touch it, but it wasn’t a substitute for the living, breathing person he longed to hold.

“Good Son,” Kasuf’s voice sounded from the darkness. “You are troubled?”

Daniel jerked his head up. He was sitting at his desk, the last bit of paperwork scattered in front of him. He saw the clock—it was only twenty minutes later than it had been when he last looked—he had dozed off. He’d be glad when the Blood of Sokar was out of his system, if not for the chance of getting a good night’s sleep then for the absence of the unusual nightmares he’d been having since they escaped Netu. In a few hours, he’d be sitting in the passenger’s seat of a truck headed toward Minnesota.

He didn’t really want to go, but he needed the distraction, and Jack needed to feel like he was doing something. There were many uncertainties in life, but one absolute was the fact that Jack O’Neill didn’t like feeling helpless when a friend was hurting. If it made Jack feel better, then maybe it was worth the trip.

Daniel sat there, his gaze on the picture frame that had eluded him in his dream. He reached out and took it, not allowing it to escape. Maybe the dream was a lesson of sorts. He had sought Sha’uri for three years, and she was always out of his reach. No matter how hard he tried or how far he reached, she was just out of arm’s length.

He missed her. No amount of time anywhere was going to change that.

He felt a small tear start to form and fall down his cheek. He wasn’t sure if the tear came from his own loneliness or from the emotional downs brought about by the Blood of Sokar. He wasn’t sure of anything at that moment. All he knew is that he hurt, and he didn’t know what he was hurting from.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“Abydos, My Lord,.” The First Prime watched the view screen with Apophis as the planet grew larger. “Shall we prepare to transport to the surface now?”

Apophis thought for a moment as he gazed at the planet. It was a barren, sandy place. He didn’t prefer to hold court over this type of planet, but Ra was never as particular. While Apophis preferred lush, verdant areas, Ra enjoyed the climates that placed harshness on the everyday lives of the people. That way, they would depend on him more for their existence. It was a false dependence, Apophis realized. Humans were highly adaptable and could thrive under almost any condition. This, he had learned through the memories of countless hosts. Ra had only the one human host, the one that he possessed when Daniel Jackson and O’Neill killed him. Therefore, Ra had little understanding of his slaves. Had he been more aware of their foibles and eccentricities, he would not have been so clumsy as to allow the Abydonians and two Tau’ri to beat him. It was a fateful lesson all Goa’ulds had learned from.

“My Lord?” Kintac asked a second time.

Apophis decided. “Land the ha’tak at the pyramid. We will transport down. Choose four Jaffa to travel with us to the grave, and another four including Sar’ac to accompany Klorel. I want no surprises.”

“It will be as you wish, My Lord,.” The First Prime bowed and left to follow his master’s bidding.

Klorel and Loki stood by quietly in the throne room as well. Both remained silent as they waited for the System Lord to give them their instructions.

“You are certain your device will work,” Apophis almost nervously asked the Asgard.

“That it will work? Quite certain. That it will work correctly is another matter. That is dependent on the condition of your queen’s host body, Your Majesty. The device is a derivation of one of the Ancient’s devices. They had tried to alter time, but were unsuccessful. My research has proven that their failure was based on the parameters of their experiment. They were using a planet as a basis. Such a large-scale attempt was disastrous. The effects could not be contained within our temporal continuum and created a time loop that did not alter the timeline. However, when used on a small-scale application as you are proposing, I have had great success. But I must warn you, I have never attempted such an experiment as you have requested. There may be … unseen complications that cannot be accounted for nor corrected.”

How many times would the Asgard repeat himself? Apophis had been told this before. Loki had impressed upon him the fact that this had never been tried, and that the device could only be utilized for this particular use once. A second time risked discovery by the Asgard, and both Apophis and Loki wanted to avoid that by any means possible. How many … then Apophis realized that the Asgard did not wish to raise the System Lord’s hopes. There was a great chance that their mission would fail. “I understand. You will not be held responsible should the process not be successful. I realize you are making a great sacrifice by agreeing to assist me.”

“No, Your Majesty. I make no sacrifice by returning your queen to you. I wish only to help.”

If an Asgard’s expressions could be interpreted, Apophis would almost say that Loki was acting smug—very uncharacteristic of an Asgard. He waved his hand and dismissed Loki. He had to tread cautiously. This annoying little cretin could be the only chance Apophis had of retrieving what was his. Motioning for Klorel to come forward, he asked in a low voice, “Do you know what you have to do, my son?”

Klorel, fully understanding what his father wished but not fully understanding why, answered truthfully. “Yes, Father. But what purpose does the old man serve? How can he help you retrieve our queen?”

“He is not required to help the Asgard. I need the old man to bring me my new host.”

Klorel smiled at the knowledge that Apophis was interested in a change of residence. “A new host, Father? Who?”

With a frightening smile, Apophis answered, “Daniel Jackson.”

Abydos before sunrise was the quietest moment of the day for the soon-to-be bustling town. Although the farmers would have been up and working in the fields and the herdsmen tending to the animals before the first rays of sunlight draped over the mountains, most of the townspeople would only be beginning to rouse from sleep. Waking babies would need to be tended to, morning meals cooked and others would be preparing to greet the day. The people would be awake but the town itself had a little longer to sleep.

Usually.

First, there was quiet … intense … profound … no loud noises hiding in the darkness …

The nightmarish screeching of a ha’tak’s braking thrusters tore apart the quiet calm. The ship landed at the pyramid … the demons had returned!

City guards ran through the city streets warning that the demons were back. The militia took up arms, prepared to bravely but uselessly defend their city from the death gliders that would inevitably come …

But no death gliders flew over the city.

Only one cargo ship flew from the ha’tak, heading in the opposite direction—toward the desert.

Skaara watched in muted fear at the danger being marched toward Nagada. Klorel was taking him and a small troop of Jaffa over the desert toward the city. He had tried to fight back, tried so desperately hard to stop the Goa’uld inside him from completing Apophis’ orders, but Klorel used torturous pain to subdue him. Skaara tried to influence Klorel as he did on the ha’tak flying toward Earth a few years earlier, but it was to no avail.

Apophis’ will would be done.

As they entered the city, Skaara heard his name being yelled, watched in abject horror as those people he’d known since childhood were struck down with staff weapons—his name the last word they uttered. Skaara fought for control, just one moment of personal freedom to run away from the Jaffa, to allow one of the militia a clear shot at him, but Klorel again subdued him painfully.

'Fool,' Klorel’s voice echoed through the blinding pain. 'You cannot stop us. Your father and the Tau’ri will kneel before Apophis and our revenge against your precious Dan’yer will be enjoyable indeed.’

A stabbing pain splintered through Skaara, pushing him down into the darkness, away from the terror and the bloodshed, away from the knowledge that he was helpless to protect his family and friends against the Goa’uld. When he saw his father being taken prisoner by the Jaffa, he whispered as silently as he could, hopefully too quietly for Klorel to hear him, “Forgive me, Father, Dan’yer.”

Yet Klorel heard him. 'Forgive?' the creature laughed. 'Watch as your father bows to me!’

Klorel stood within the protective circle of his personal Jaffa bodyguards as Sar’ac dragged Kasuf before him and threw him to the ground. His host’s memories about this human were very clear. Memories of listening to his stories and advice, memories of a devoted father and loving parent …

The older Abydonian stared at Klorel, the hatred intense in his eyes. Hatred, and yet no fear. It seemed that fearlessness was a trait within the family. “I know who you are. You are the demon that has infected my son,” the human spat.

The Goa’uld sneered at the insolence. “I am Klorel, son of Apophis. My father has commanded you be brought to him.”

“I will not go. Your false god has no power here.”

Klorel raised his hand and viciously slapped Kasuf, almost knocking him off his knees. “Come or I will destroy every living creature in this city.”

There was a moment of utter quiet, and then Kasuf bowed his head. Klorel quietly laughed. The human knew he had no choice. After all, the Goa’uld were in control.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Apophis cursed the sand.

As the four Jaffa toiled to remove the body from its grave, the sand would fall back into the pit. It was a slow, laborious process. They never once glanced at their master, only kept shoveling the sand out of the pit as quickly as they could.

Apophis was not known for his patience.

He waited. Loki and Kintac waited quietly beside him. Apophis’ mind was more focused than it had ever been before. His goals were not unreachable—a simple plan in the making, a complex task to perform, a series of retributionary acts that he would personally administer. He was a very busy god. Waiting was not conducive to his good humor.

The sands were finally convinced to release their hold on the shrouded body. Once the grains had been swept away, the Jaffa carefully lifted their queen out of her grave and placed her at Apophis’ feet. The Goa’uld knelt beside his beloved and carefully removed the primitive burial wrappings from her face. The hair, the skin … she appeared to be only sleeping. He touched her cheek, her lips … yes. Just as he remembered. Beautiful.

“Your Majesty, I do not wish to intrude upon this moment, but we do not have much time,” Loki informed him.

Time. Time was the enemy. “Of course. What do you require of me?”

“Only that you step back and allow me to examine the cellular degradation. I will work swiftly.”

Apophis wordlessly obeyed and stepped back.

Loki motioned for Kintac to pass him one of the hand-held devices that they had brought with them. He removed a miniscule disk and watched as it activated.

“What is that?” Apophis asked.

“It is a neural implant module. It will allow me to more accurately gauge the degradation and mental activity,” Loki explained as he placed the implant at the base of Sha’uri’s skull and waited until it was absorbed through the skin. “It will temporarily attach itself to the brain stem and will then be absorbed by the body within a few days. I will need all information possible in order to secure every chance of a successful result. “

Loki swept the hand-held device over the body. After a few long moments, all of which Apophis carefully watched every move the Asgard made, he saw the hand-held device glow. Finally, Loki said, “Your Majesty, the cellular degradation is minimal. If you would have the Jaffa move her into the shuttle, I will attempt to resurrect her.”

A quick jerk of Apophis’ hand made the Jaffa move quickly. They raised the body from the sand and carried her into the shuttle. Before Apophis and Kintac could follow, Loki stopped them. “I must do this alone. The technology works best if there are few living beings in close proximity to the temporal device. The energy field a living creature generates could presumably interfere with the process. I would not wish to endanger the results.”

Alone? Apophis wanted to be the first person Amaunet saw when she awoke, but if he had to be separated from her in order for her to awaken …” Of course. We will wait here. Will that be sufficient?”

“It will be. I will try to be expedient, Your Majesty, but this procedure is delicate. I must take extreme precautions, and I must be allowed the time to take care in each step of the process.”

“I understand,” Apophis said almost patiently. In moments, perhaps minutes, his queen would once again be by his side. He could afford to be patient, but only for those few moments. He watched as the Asgard walked alone into the shuttle.

He only had to wait those few moments, maybe minutes, and then his patience would be rewarded.

“My pharaoh,” Kintac pointed beyond the shuttle, “Klorel comes.”

“Ah,” Apophis watched his son lead the small brigade. “This will occupy our time until the Asgard has fulfilled his obligation.”

Very quickly, Klorel and his Jaffa traversed the distance and forced Kasuf to his knees before Apophis. The Goa’uld walked slowly around Kasuf as if determining his worth. He wasn’t pleased with the sight. “This is the slave’s father?”

“Yes.” Klorel grabbed Kasuf’s chin and forced him to look up at them, reinforcing his position as a mere slave whose life was dependent on the Goa’ulds’ good will.

“He will further my plan well,” Apophis cackled. “Pathetic slaves. They are so easily manipulated.” He motioned toward the Jaffa standing behind Kasuf. “Sar’ac, give me your symbiote.”

Without a single word of protest, the Jaffa reached into his pouch and withdrew his prim’ta. Apophis took hold of the creature, his eyes glowing in exultation. “Varos,” he spoke solely to the symbiote, “You have served me well many years. As befitting your title and duties and your loyalty to me, I have always allowed you to choose your own host. However, I must insist you take this human as your next host. I have great need of him and of you controlling him for a short time. Will you accommodate me?”

The symbiote screeched and moved its head in acquiescence. Whatever his pharaoh wanted, Varos would perform without question. He always had.

The human was much older than Apophis liked for Varos’ hosts, but he needed the slave for a deified purpose. So be it. Once the plan came to fruition, Varos could always choose another, and Apophis would get him any host he wanted as a reward for successfully obeying his orders.

Varos sounded one more screech, as if sounding a warning to his pharaoh. Apophis merely smiled and nodded his head. “Yes, there are dangers in taking an entire family as hosts, but I accept those dangers in this case. I will have my revenge.”

 ~~~

Kasuf had known fear.

Under Ra’s rule, he had watched as his people lived and died by the god’s whim. He witnessed the deaths of many and saw the cruel unjust punishments of even more. Ra terrorized them ruthlessly and without mercy.

Yet, at that precise moment, Kasuf would have gladly welcomed that fear to the ones he had suffered through for over three years and the one he was staring at. He’d survived the greatest fear any parent could experience when he lost all three of his children in one helpless moment. And now, his worst nightmares were coming true.

His son … no, not his son. The demon inside Skaara stared at Kasuf through his son’s eyes with hatred and disdain. Kasuf knew that Skaara was trapped within his mind, forced to watch the spectacle of oppression about to take place. What had Dan’yer told him? The host was helpless against the power of the demon? Kasuf knew that Skaara would be unable to stop the proceedings. At least Dan’yer was not there at that moment—one of his sons was safe.

In one last show of defiance, Kasuf glared at the demon that stole his children from him, who placed his mate in Sha’uri, who placed his son in Skaara and who hunted Dan’yer.

He would not be subdued quietly. Kasuf swore to this to himself. He would not allow the demon an easy victory.

~~~

Loki was alone in the shuttle … for the moment.

Sha’uri’s body lay on a table-like structure. Death had not robbed her of her beauty—or so Loki thought the humans would believe. Stories of certain humans reached even the Asgard, Daniel Jackson among them. His search for his kidnapped wife had taken on heroic, almost mythical qualities even amongst the most advanced races. There was an irony to be found in the tales that a forgotten people on a lost world were destroying the Goa’ulds’ empire one symbiote at a time.

Without further delay, Loki activated the temporal manipulator and waited for the indicator to show its readiness. He wasn’t absolutely certain that he would be successful, but he knew enough to surmise the outcome. The temporal manipulator was once thought to be the ultimate panacea to universal ills, but the attempts to control time on a planetary scale had proved unattainable. On a much smaller determinable use, it had worked.

It had to work now.

One last check of the neural implant showed that it was active and functioning properly. The temporal manipulator was ready. Loki was prepared. He placed the temporal manipulator at Sha’uri’s head and stepped back.

All he could do now was wait.

Within moments, a beam emitted from the device and enveloped Sha’uri’s body. Loki watched as the pulsating energy wave moved and danced over the human. As the light grew, it hummed ever louder, reversing the cellular degradation, reversing time within its limited realm of influence.

As he waited for the first signs of life from the dead human, he heard an agonized, piercing scream echo from outside. It was a new voice, an older voice … no. With a sudden clarity of thought and realization, Loki immediately understood that his actions were now party to placing another innocent in harm’s way. He had been too reckless to consider the bystanders … he knew what had just happened.

Thor would never forgive him for that.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hammond loved uneventful days. Quiet, serene, almost boring … he didn’t quite know what to do with himself.

It was only going to get quieter, but probably not until after a very loud meeting between two members of SG-1. Colonel O’Neill was coming to the base to pick up Doctor Jackson who had worked through the night, something the colonel was more than a little upset about. Already, the archaeologist’s roller-coastering emotions had put most of the personnel on alert. The general had asked some of the airmen to stop by Daniel’s office occasionally to bring him food, coffee or just to check on his general welfare. The reports weren’t good. Once he was angrily throwing coffee mugs at the wall. Another time, he was near tears. One airman said he heard laughing once, but it was the report that mentioned Daniel saying how the very weave of his uniform hurt his skin had Hammond worried.

The general smiled at the mental image of Jack O’Neill forcing a stubborn Daniel Jackson to rest and eat. Those two indomitable wills in concert with each other was a tremendous force to be reckoned with. Opposed, you’ve got the makings of an apocalyptic head-on collision, and with Doctor Jackson in his current physical state, it would definitely be a week Hammond was glad he wouldn’t have to witness, no matter how entertaining it might be.

“General,” Sergeant Davis called him over the intercom, “incoming wormhole.”

Hammond hurried to the control room. No SG teams were scheduled to return. “Signal?”

Davis waited a moment, then answered. “SG-1 signal … Abydonian sub-signal. Transmission only.”

Hammond reached down and activated the monitor to receive the MALP image. It was a good thing they had left one behind on Abydos. General Hammond would never forgive himself for threatening to send a bomb through … but that was then. This was now. Within moments, the picture of the Abydonian gate room appeared on the screen with Kasuf standing before the MALP.

“Master Kasuf, this is General Hammond. It’s good to see you again, sir.”

“Thank you, General. Please excuse my haste, but is my good son there?”

Hammond motioned to a nearby airman to call Daniel on the telephone and advise him that his presence was required in the control room. “He’ll be here in a moment. How are things on Abydos? No trouble, I hope.” Jackson didn’t need any more trouble.

“No, there has been no trouble. It has been quiet since my daughter died, may she rest in peace.”

Kasuf’s voice was steady, not the voice of a grieving parent. He had been able to deal with that pain well enough. “That’s good,” Hammond said gratefully. “Things have been rather busy for us, your son-in-law in particular.”

“You have important tasks. It is not a simple matter to fight the Goa’uld,” the Elder commented. “I shall not keep Dan’yer long. I require his assistance on a political matter.”

“Political?” Daniel asked breathlessly as he ran into the control room. Hammond surmised that he must have run the entire way.

“Good Son, the Council is convening in a few hours to discuss terms of a new trade agreement with our neighboring cities. I cannot cast your vote in this. Can you return home?”

“Yes, I’ll be right there.” Daniel volunteered before asking the general for permission. Seeing Hammond’s quickly permissive nod, he said, “I’ll let the general tell Jack I won’t be going fishing today.”

Kasuf didn’t answer, just nodded and stepped back.

“I’ll send him through the Stargate immediately,” Hammond said into the microphone just as the wormhole disengaged.

“Sergeant, dial up Abydos.”

“Yes, sir.”

Before Daniel could turn to leave, the general stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “Are you feeling well enough to do this?”

Daniel flexed his fingers. “Right now? Yes, sir. I don’t feel … too out of sorts at the moment. I should be all right for a little while.”

“What would you like me to tell Colonel O’Neill?” Hammond had been the bearer of bad tidings to his second-in-command on more than one occasion, but this time would be priceless.

Daniel didn’t have to consider an answer. It was already on the tip of his tongue. “Tell him I’ll be back as soon as I can, and then we’ll go catch that really big fish.” Tired as he was, as wound up as he was, Daniel realized he really wanted to go back home to Abydos before going on that vacation with Jack—now that he was no longer adverse to the idea of going fishing. It was easier to say that Jack’s idea of fun and his were slightly different.

“The one that’s this big?” Hammond grinned as he spread his arms apart.

“Oh, you’ve heard of it?” Daniel returned, smiling.

As Daniel turned to leave, Hammond said quickly, “Doctor, I’d strongly suggest you taking your weapon with you.” Hammond said quickly. “And a GDO?”

Daniel looked around, as if deciding what to do when Sergeant Davis opened a drawer and gave him a spare sidearm, holster and an extra SG-1 GDO that he kept in case of emergency—and with SG-1, there were always emergencies. Daniel quickly took the items, put them in his jacket pockets, gave the sergeant and the general a thanking nod, then without further delay he rushed down to the gate room, up the ramp and through the Stargate.

“Sergeant Davis, I have to make a phone call to Colonel O’Neill,” Hammond told him.

“Yes, sir,” the sergeant answered.

“Oh, Sergeant, I don’t know anything about extra GDOs being kept in drawers without authorization. It’s not exactly regulation.”

“Yes, sir,” Davis smiled as he turned back to the control panel.

~~~

Daniel stepped through the wormhole onto the gate platform on Abydos. Just as he did so, he felt something fall onto the back of his neck. He reached up to brush whatever it was off, but there was nothing there. He dismissed it as his imagination. Kasuf was waiting for him, a small smile on his face. If Kasuf was smiling, that meant that the visit wasn’t meant to be just business. Kasuf would turn it into a family trip before it was over.

“Good Father,” Daniel greeted Kasuf.

“Good Son, I am glad you are here. There is much to be done, and time is against us.”

Kasuf sounded more urgent than before. “I thought you just needed my vote for the trade agreement. Did something else happen?”

“Yes,” Kasuf said as he brought his left hand out from his robes. Something shiny was wrapped around his fingers and palm, something very familiar. Kasuf’s arm reached forward toward Daniel, the ribbon device flared directly at Daniel’s forehead, dropping him to his knees in intense pain.

“Varos!” A familiar, disembodied voice rang though the gate room. “Enough. I do not wish him harmed. At least, not yet.”

Daniel’s eyes blinked as the immediate pain stopped, but the lingering ache remained. The pain was too pronounced—the Blood of Sokar was being channeled with it. His head felt like it was splitting open!

Kasuf … no. It couldn’t be! It wasn’t Kasuf. How could Kasuf use a ribbon device unless … no. Not his father-in-law, too! Not all of his family!

Daniel could barely move through the overwhelming pain. He had learned enough about ribbon devices to learn about the different settings. Some stunned, some killed, others just hurt. Obviously, the one Kasuf was holding was set to a painful stun.

“Impressive,” the familiar voice said. “You still have some control. Yes, you have been subjected to our personal weapon several times before. You have learned to use the effects against it, haven’t you?”

Damn. It was Apophis. That’s who owned the voice. With a mighty effort, Daniel looked up at the creature standing before him, looking down on him with disgust and some impatience. Oh, yeah. It was Apophis. Dressed in his garish red attire, he would be considered overdressed at a costume party. “You know,” Daniel said as he moved around trying to regain complete control over his limbs, “you really ought to get a new tailor. The one you’ve got has been dressing you like a drag queen on a bad day.” He saw Apophis’ eyes blaze at that. “Or maybe it’s not your tailor,” Daniel said, trying to gain control of the conversation as well. “Maybe you just prove the old adage that you’re ugly and your mother dresses you funny.”

Apophis easily walked over to Daniel and backhanded him into the Jaffa he hadn’t realized was standing behind him. Good thing he was still kneeling on the ground or he would have landed on his backside, not that Apophis’ second punch didn’t send him there immediately after it was delivered. “I shall enjoy making you suffer,” was Apophis’ lame threat.

The little bastard really needed to get new material. “Suffer?” Daniel asked. “Have you been watching those bad B movies on the Late Show again?” Right. Keep on doing as Jack always told you to do. Make jokes, good, bad and in-between. Don’t let him know you’re scared. Hell, don’t let him know you’re terrified.

Apophis laughed. That was never good. The Goa’uld raised his hand and waved for someone to come closer. Now what did he have in mind? Did Apophis—oh, no. Matters just got worse. From behind a column in the gate room came someone Daniel had never expected to see. It was an Asgard. Someone who was supposed to be helping Earth against the Goa’uld was working with a Goa’uld? Daniel was in big trouble.

He should have given his assignments to Robert and gone fishing.

The Jaffa standing behind him dragged him unceremoniously to his feet and pushed him forward. Daniel was forced to follow Apophis, the Asgard and Kasuf—who was inside Kasuf? Varos, was that his name?—out of the gate room. Behind him, he heard what could only be classified as a derisive snort. He turned to see more Jaffa and Skaa—no, not Skaara. It was Klorel getting into step behind him. What next? The hosts were his family! This was the family that he would have gladly given up his life for. Now they were hosts for parasites who were going to delight in killing him or worse. Daniel knew that was going to happen. He’d angered more Goa’ulds than he wanted to think about, and Apophis had just grabbed him by using the one bait he couldn’t resist: family.

He knew where they were taking him. As they made their way toward the small room off the main corridor, Daniel thought to himself, 'Jack, please tell me you’ve decided to come here instead of waiting for me to come back.’ He knew it was a useless hope. He was trapped.

They entered the small room single file. In the center, it held an altar that had been used ages ago in ancient sacrificial ceremonies that had been outlawed after the fall of Ra. Blood still stained some of the stones, giving them a reddish hue, a brilliant contrast to the sand colored stone that covered Abydos. Daniel knew that those colors could be some of the last he ever saw in this lifetime.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Hammond was almost amused at Jack’s irritation. Almost. Just because Jack wasn’t happy that Daniel’s trip home had delayed the catching of the fish this big didn’t mean that the colonel had the right to make everyone miserable—but he was trying. He was grumpy and growling at everyone, snapping at anyone who dared to speak. Hammond was ready to politely ask him to leave the control room and find something productive to do.

“Colonel, why don’t you take a break?” the general suggested. “It could be hours before we hear anything from Doctor Jackson.”

“You know he won’t tell Kasuf about the Blood of Sokar,” Jack stated bluntly. “He’s gonna be yo-yoing up and down the emotional scale, and no one’s gonna know what’s wrong with him.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about that. Master Kasuf is a very wise man. He’ll know the moment Doctor Jackson starts behaving out of character that something is wrong. He’ll ask—”

“And Daniel will tell him. Kasuf is the one person he’ll never keep anything from.”

“He’ll be fine, Jack, but you’re starting to annoy the masses. I’ll let you know if we hear anything from Abydos—”

The alarm sounded at that moment, preventing any further conversation.

“Incoming signal,” Sergeant Davis called out as the wormhole stabilized, grateful for any distraction from the fuming colonel. “It’s the Tok’ra.”

General Hammond nodded his agreement. “Open the iris.”

“Here we go again,” Jack said unhappily. “First, Daniel postpones our vacation, now the Tok’ra are going to grace us with their presence. Life can be so much fun.”

“Colonel?”

“It’s always the same, General. The Tok’ra show up, get us to do something they don’t want to risk their own necks for, and we’re the ones that almost get killed.”

“Not necessarily, Colonel. This might just be a social call.”

“With all due respect, sir,” Jack said sarcastically, “if I believed that, I’d be buying swampland in Arizona.”

“So noted,” Hammond told him. “Would you be interested in a bridge in Brooklyn?”

They watched as several Tok’ra stepped through the event horizon, but they only recognized two. The first was Donan, a lab assistant. The other was Malthus, a Tok’ra scientist.

Oh, boy. This wasn’t going to be fun.

~~~

“Excuse me,” General Hammond angrily interrupted his visitor. “You want to exhume the body of Doctor Jackson’s wife, and you believed that he would give permission for you to do so?”

Malthus could feel Mordecai’s ‘I told you so' speaking loud and clear in his mind. He gave his host a quick nudge as he felt Mordecai sit back and listen. He had no doubt that his host would be telling him exactly what to say and what not to say during this meeting. Mordecai, being human, had a better rapport with other humans than Malthus did; however, he was giving Malthus the chance to present his request. “General, I don’t believe you understand the significance of having access to a—”

“No. I don’t believe I do understand.” Hammond sat back and laced his fingers together. Resting his joined hands on the table, he said, “Please explain.”

'….Be polite, Malthus. And humble. General Hammond does not look pleased …' Malthus took a deep breath as he tried to take his host’s words to heart. It was better to yield to the wisdom of experience than to allow his own pride to take control of him. Mordecai would not allow him to damage the Tok’ra/Earth relationship but would be granted some leeway.

“General, there are only a few Queen Goa’ulds in existence. There are many Goa’uld queens, they are the rulers or mates of the pharaohs, but only the Queen Goa’ulds themselves have the ability to reproduce. One symbiote in one hundred thousand will be born a queen, and that one symbiote is highly sought after by all System Lords. This guarantees that a System Lord’s bloodline will survive.”

“Yes, we’ve been briefed about Goa’uld bloodlines,” Hammond said.

Jack leaned forward, his unfailing stare pinning Malthus in his seat. “Why do you want to dig up Sha’uri?”

“There is a chance that I might be able to continue my research. General, Colonel, you must understand that Goa’uld symbiotes do not have the ability to reproduce as prolifically as humans. Only queens are born with the ability, and symbiote numbers are decreasing. My small sample of genetic material is gone, and I am only one of a very few trying to discover new and varied ways to increase our numbers or affect the numbers of Goa’uld symbiotes. Without new material, I will not be able to continue my research to discover and duplicate the genetic difference that allows only queens to produce offspring.”

“That’s it?” Jack asked.

Malthus waited a moment. 'Mordecai?’

Malthus could sense Mordecai weighing the options of telling the truth or keeping secrets. Finally, Malthus heard Mordecai’s advice. '….Tell him, Malthus …’

'I cannot tell him about my other research.’

The silent conversation between host and symbiote lasted mere moments, so quickly that no one else in the room knew that it was happening. “No, Colonel. There is more. I’ve also been searching for weaknesses in a Goa’uld’s bloodline in order to find more subtle ways to defeat them.”

That one statement caught the general’s interest. “What do you mean?” Hammond asked.

“If we can determine the distinct genetic traits present in a queen’s bloodline, we might be able to engineer a compound that will target the symbiotes of that bloodline, thereby killing the enemy without killing any of our own people.”

Jack and Hammond were silent for a moment, then Jack muttered, “A smart poison. Kill the bad guys and leave the good guys standing.”

“Yes,” Malthus answered.

“You still haven’t answered about why you want to dig up Sha’uri,” Jack reminded him.

The Tok’ra took a deep breath, then said, “Amaunet is not a rare name among the Goa’uld. The original Amaunet was a Queen and mate to Amun-Ra. There have been several powerful System Lords with that name, but nothing certain is known about the fate of the Queen herself. She seems to have disappeared in history. The Amaunet who took Doctor Jackson’s wife—”

“Sha’uri,” Hammond corrected him.

“I’m sorry?” Malthus was thrown off track by the unexpected interruption. “I don’t understand.”

“Doctor Jackson’s wife was named Sha’uri. She helped lead the rebellion against Ra on Abydos. Her father is Kasuf, the Chief Elder of Nagada, the capital city of Abydos. Her brother is Skaara who was also taken as a host by a Goa’uld named Klorel. Make no mistake. She was an innocent woman kidnapped and tortured by the Goa’uld. Let me remind you to not lose sight of the fact that we are talking about a human being whose importance cannot be understated. She’s a lady, not a lab experiment.”

'….He’s telling you to show respect …' Mordecai’s voice scolded.

'I can see that. Doesn’t he realize—”

Reflecting on his words and attitude, Malthus realized that he might have appeared callous by the Tau’ri. Perhaps only another scientist could wholly understand his viewpoint, but General Hammond was not a scientist, neither was Colonel O’Neill. “I’m sorry. I did not intend to belittle the tragedy that fell on Doctor Jackson and his—Sha’uri. I do realize that losing her must be difficult for him.”

“It has been,” Hammond said, his voice taking on an angry edge. “She died two months ago, and he’s still grieving. Your coming here at this time to ask him to exhume her so you can run tests is the height of insensitivity and shows an inhuman lack of sympathy.”

Malthus did not miss the subtle message that Hammond was conveying. Just because he was a Tok’ra did not mean he couldn’t follow the rules of civility. Malthus felt Mordecai’s nudge. He knew the timing was bad, but time was his enemy. Soon, he wouldn’t be able to salvage any viable samples.

“I didn’t realize that such a short time had passed since she died. I thought it had been longer.”

“Well, it hasn’t,” O’Neill’s angry voice all but shattered Malthus’ confidence. “And we’re not letting anybody with a snake in his head hurt Sha’uri anymore. She’s dead and buried. Let her be.”

“Colonel, as I was trying to explain—”

“Explain? You want to dig up Sha’uri and butcher what’s left of her because of Amaunet so you can keep playing in your lab! Try harder.,” O’Neill ordered.

Malthus chose his words carefully. He needed to get past Jackson’s watchdogs first. He hadn’t anticipated this much resistance. “The rumors surrounding Amaunet have been varied for many millennia. As I said before, several Goa’ulds have used the name. That in turn has caused problems in tracing the history and genealogy. We have tried to discover the truth, but Amaunet’s life has always been a well guarded secret.”

“We have reason to believe that Apophis’ queen was the same Amaunet that was mate to Amun-Ra. There have always been rumors that Amun-Re had refused to father any children with Amaunet because he feared his offspring would conspire against him. Other rumors state that they spawned more symbiotes than any other pair. Some held that Amaunet refused to have offspring with him because of his disloyalty and would only give her permission for certain queens to be impregnated by Amun-Re. Still other rumors persist that she could bring about offspring without the assistance of a male-hosted Goa’uld. There was one that stated that she was the mother of all Goa’ulds, not Hathor, but that rumor has been proven false. All we do know is that Apophis and Amaunet have never produced symbiotic offspring during the time they were together, and we do know that she gave Apophis permission to mate with a few queens over the millennia. Klorel was the son of another Queen Goa’uld. We just don’t know which.”

“Our records do not have Apophis’ mate positively classified as a queen, but it is more than possible. In fact, I would say that it is likely. Ages ago, the pharaohs would not divulge who the mothers of their offspring were because it was necessary that they mate with more than one queen in order to secure the highest chances of preserving their genetic line. Keeping the queens’ identities secret meant that other System Lords had great difficulty in determining exactly how many offspring a Goa’uld sired because none knew how many queens or which queens a pharaoh seeded. As you can imagine, these queens were and still are in very high demand. They are as sought after as planets are during a conquest. In order to hide her identity and not be hunted, Amaunet may have only claimed to be a Goa’uld queen although there is a very good chance that she was a Queen Goa’uld. A small sample of genetic material would allow me to perform tests that might identify her status and, if she was a queen and produced as many symbiotes as we think she may have, I can isolate the genetic anomaly that differentiates her bloodline from others. Once that is done, I can create a method of destroying that particular bloodline, thereby destroying her entire line.”

Malthus could see the interest in the faces sitting around the conference table. A chance to destroy the Goa’uld didn’t come along every day of the week.

“So, let me get this straight.” Jack started counting off Malthus’ points on his fingers. “One, you want to dig up Sha’uri’s body. Two, you want to run tests on her to see if this particular Amaunet was a Queen Goa’uld or just your average run-of-the-mill Goa’uld queen. Three, if Amaunet was a Queen Goa’uld, you want to take Sha’uri’s body, dissect it and run as many tests as you can until it decomposes completely. Four, you want to try to come up with some kind of chemical warfare that’s gonna take down her bloodline because if she is the mother and grandmother of a lot of Goa’ulds, you could use a smart chemical to destroy them all in one fell swoop without risking any Tok’ra because I’m guessing that you’re obviously not part of Amaunet’s bloodline. Is that about it?”

“Yes, Colonel. That’s it.”

“Uh, General, you want to take this?” Jack asked Hammond.

Hammond took a deep breath. Malthus had been told that generals were at a disadvantage since insubordination from them wasn’t permitted; however, a politely worded but strongly motivated disagreement was allowed. “Malthus, I’m sure you understand that any chance to stop the Goa’uld is one that we should take under any circumstance,” there was a pause, how was the general going to phrase the next part? “but no matter what the benefits you could derive from taking genetic material from Amaunet, there is no way I can endorse your recommendation or approve of your plan to exhume Sha’uri Jackson’s body. The decision to allow you to do so ultimately belongs to her family. Doctor Jackson will say no, but he wouldn’t make such an important decision as telling you ‘no’ without speaking to his father-in-law. Master Kasuf will deny you permission but he will ask me for my opinion since he’ll be told that you came here first instead of going to Abydos. I will have to tell him that I cannot agree with your plan. I won’t hurt Doctor Jackson further. I have no doubt that they will not give you permission. I can assure you, sir, Sha’uri will not be removed from her grave.”

“General Hammond,” Malthus tried to begin again.

“Forget it,” O’Neill interrupted him. “I know for a fact that Daniel won’t let you anywhere near Sha’uri’s grave. And if you even try, Daniel won’t be thinking of the Earth/Tok’ra Alliance. He’s gonna be thinking just how good it’s gonna feel to pop a few bullets in you.”

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The room was secluded and chilled, dark and small. The only prominent structure in the room was the altar that took up more than one fourth of the space. It wasn’t truly an altar for supplication to the gods so much as it was a place for ritual murder for Ra’s entertainment. Many poor souls had been uselessly sacrificed for Ra’s amusement, and now it would be utilized again for Apophis’ enjoyment. The blood stained stone seemed willing and eager to accept another victim.

Daniel was shoved further into the room. No one spoke a word, but the Jaffa bowed reverently to someone standing in the shadows. Daniel tried to see the person; the figure seemed familiar, one that Daniel was acquainted with … who—

The person turned toward him, eyes glowing as they looked at him …

No …

Daniel couldn’t believe it. No matter what his eyes were registering, this was impossible.

It couldn’t be!

Daniel stared in sheer disbelief. It had to be a ghost, some kind of apparition in front of him. There, in the altar room dressed in the simple ceremonial burial robe, was Sha’uri—

No, not Sha’uri.

The glowing eyes … it was the Goa’uld.

Amaunet was still alive.

Apophis walked over to Amaunet, reached up and gently caressed her cheek. Daniel watched in stunned silence as that monster that had ripped his family apart touched the cheek that only Daniel had a right to touch. The thought that Apophis was anywhere near his wife made Daniel’s skin crawl. It didn’t matter that Amaunet was in control. Sha’uri was still there, somewhere. At least, he hoped she was. If she was still alive, then that meant he had another chance to rescue her, but how could she be alive? How? He’d buried her, watched as the sands covered her body. How could it be?

“As you can see, all that was taken from me has been restored.” Apophis’ voice was smug and arrogant—like always. “The Asgard do have their uses,” he said as he pointed toward the diminutive alien.

Daniel stared speechlessly at the Asgard, feeling the betrayal from a being that was supposed to be an ally. He turned his gaze to Amaunet, hoping beyond hope that Sha’uri was somewhere in there, still alive and fighting. Maybe she could influence Amaunet. She’d done it before. “That’s impossible. Amaunet’s dead. Teal’c killed her. I buried her.”

Apophis’ laugh was haughty and cruel. “We are gods, Daniel Jackson. Should we not have power over death itself?”

Daniel was disgusted by the arrogant display of false superiority. “You’re not a god. You’re just a snake inside the body of a scribe. You have no power over anything. You—”

“Silence!” Apophis struck out his hand and fired his personal hand weapon at Daniel. The smile on his face showed everyone he enjoyed watching the sight of Daniel’s body being lifted and thrown across the room into the far wall.

The ringing in Daniel’s ears didn’t block out the conversation in the room. “Do not harm him much, my pharaoh,” Amaunet’s voice sounded sweetly. “There is no sarcophagus here, and here must be the place for you to take your revenge on these slaves.” He saw her gaze track to him, but he saw no hint of Sha’uri in her eyes.

He felt the Jaffa grab him and manhandle back into a standing position, and then noticed that Apophis lowered the hand device. Apophis’ voice seemed to claw its way through the dull ringing that was lessening. “Why here, my love? You are most adamant on this point.”

Amaunet glanced at Daniel. He knew he was staggering a bit on his feet, barely conscious, but he wasn’t going to give them the satisfaction of seeing him pass out. He met Amaunet’s stare, noticing that her gaze didn’t waver from his. For some reason, he held her rapt attention.

Then there was something else… something that Daniel saw … something that Apophis saw. Both saw the longing reflected in her eyes. In a bastardization of Sha’uri’s gentle voice, Amaunet declared Daniel’s punishment. “This planet was their home. Their strength flows from these sands. To break their spirit, we must destroy their perception of the safety they believe to be here. When they reflect on this planet, they will no longer remember it fondly. It will be the site of their domination by the Goa’uld.”

Apophis nodded his agreement. “Very wise,” he commented approvingly. “An ingenious method to break their spirits.”

Daniel shook his head in an attempt to regain his senses. He was being held in the grip of two Jaffa. Kasuf—no, that wasn’t Kasuf. Daniel remembered what Apophis had called him. Varos. He was standing nearby with Ska—no, Klorel. He had to believe that Kasuf and Skaara were helplessly watching but unable to do anything to help him. He knew that both Goa’ulds were watching the goings-on with great delight.

Daniel knew that their hosts held very different opinions, but he could expect no help from them.

“Prepare him,” Apophis ordered, “for implantation.”

What?

No!!

In a burst of panicked energy, Daniel jerked free of the surprised Jaffa, but it was a limited and short-lived victory. An elbow slammed into a Jaffa’s pouch put the first Jaffa on the ground. The second grabbed Daniel around the neck and held him in a chokehold. He didn’t anticipate any surprises and ignored Daniel’s feet. One swift kick from the Tau’ri in a sensitive area, and that Jaffa was down as well.

Two down, two to go.

Unfortunately for Daniel, the element of surprise was now lost. As he was reaching into his jacket for the pistol, the two remaining Jaffa rushed him and tackled him to the ground. With a swift and painful yank, the largest Jaffa ripped off Daniel’s jacket while the second tore his t-shirt off him.

“You do have spirit, Daniel Jackson,” Apophis lauded over his prisoner. “I will enjoy breaking you.”

Daniel struggled harder against the Jaffa, noticing in his peripheral vision that neither the gun nor the GDO had fallen from the jacket. They were stills safely concealed. “I don’t think so.” He continued to struggle despite the fact that their now-recovered associates joined the two Jaffa holding him. He didn’t have a chance.

With a smirk, Apophis stated the obvious. “You will live ten thousand life times as my host, and I will enjoy your suffering every moment.”

Daniel glanced at Amaunet and saw her eyes change. For a moment, he believed he was looking into Sha’uri’s eyes. He saw confusion, unsteadiness. Was Sha’uri trying to stop Amaunet? “Sha’uri! Bene wa!” There was another brief moment of recognition in her soft brown eyes, only to be replaced with the Goa’uld’s cruel soullessness.

~~~

Amaunet watched silently, her own thoughts were of how she was going to enjoy spending ten thousand life times with her husband’s new host. She felt her host try to fight, to surface, and she reveled in the feeling of power suppressing Sha’uri gave her. Death had not tempered the enjoyment of utter domination. She sent very vivid images of what her intentions were to Sha’uri, exactly why she wanted Daniel Jackson as host to her consort.

‘What you enjoyed will soon be mine,’ Amaunet told her. She smiled at Sha’uri’s soundless screams.

Events were moving too slowly for her. “Jaffa!” she ordered. “Your pharaoh ordered you to prepare him for implantation. Do so immediately!”

Amaunet was not surprised to find Sha’uri still fighting. With a brief flash of pain, the symbiote forced Sha’uri into submissive silence. The host had painfully learned not to resist—at least, not to resist much. 'Your husband will submit to our will as you do. You will watch as I gain possession of what I desire.'

Instead of further concerning herself with her host, Amaunet focused her attention on the spectacle before her.

~~~

Again, Daniel struggled against the Jaffa, but it was pointless. He was lost. One Jaffa slammed Daniel’s knee with his pain stick as a means to subdue him. The other clamped his hand over Daniel’s mouth to keep him silent, but Daniel bit down hard, drawing blood from the Jaffa’s hand. That earned him another hard slap across the face.

Apophis walked over to him,; his haughty, arrogant sneer was a window into his thoughts. He grabbed Daniel’s chin in one very strong hand. “Yes, I will enjoy your suffering every moment we are joined.”

That deserved an answer. Daniel violently wrenched an arm free from the Jaffa’s iron grip and slammed his fist into Apophis’ jaw with all the force he could muster. The Goa’uld was hardly fazed. He backhanded Daniel again, this time knocking his head against the ground, leaving his senses addled momentarily.

The four Jaffa pinned Daniel to the ground, forcing him to lie spread-eagle on his back on the sandy floor. The one holding his shoulder to the ground also grabbed his head and pressed it back forcefully into the dirt.

“Varos,” Apophis called for his Grand Vizier, “I will not have my queen inconvenienced by commanding the Jaffa. This is for our amusement. Take charge of this. I must prepare for the transfer.”

 ~~~

Taking his responsibility very seriously, Varos ordered, “Do not damage him.” His vantage point beside Klorel gave him a perfect view of the proceedings in which to oversee the implantation. “A host must be in an acceptable state when taken by a god. Place the slave on the altar. It is only fitting that he be presented to Apophis in the traditional way.”

Loki finally spoke. “Apophis has not subdued him with his hand device. Would that not be advisable?”

“Not any longer,” Varos explained. “The device was used on Daniel Jackson earl