Fanfiction! SG1: Balancing the books
Right. I got this account primarily to post fanfic and have not managed even one. I am now going to try. Brace yourselves for imminent disaster.
This is a piece I wrote for the Tok'ra resistance group in 2007 (yikes, was it really that long ago?).
Title Balancing the books
Author Ololon
Fandom Stargate SG1
Rating PG (Action/Adventure)
Summary In response to the 2007 Tok’ra Resistance Fic Challenge: "In Allegiance, Malek says he owes Bra'tac his life and hopes one day to repay that debt. How does he do that?" Malek is undercover on a Goa'uld-controlled world when he learns that Bra'tac is being held prisoner there. Can he help the Jaffa without blowing his cover?
Notes Set early season 7. Characters: Malek, Bra’tac, SG1. Italics is host/symbiote communication, or internal thoughts for non-blended individuals. Bold is for emphasis. Spelling is British English. 10,191 words.
* * *
Are you sure you don’t want to take over for a bit? Malek asked his host.
No thank you, Darin replied, mentally shuddering, You know what happened the last time I flew one of these things. Malek sent him a reassuring mental hug, although he was unable to keep the amusement from colouring his thoughts.
Master Garshaw is not as fussy as Per’sus when it comes to scratches on her tel’tak, and besides, you’ve improved since then.
But it was so embarrassing! You fly, Darin insisted, I’ll be too nervous anyway.
Very well, but we’ll be landing soon and then it may be sometime before you can come fore, Malek reminded him gently.
I don’t mind. Malek wasn’t surprised by the answer; nevertheless he was a little disappointed. When they were on a mission it often meant that Darin couldn’t come fore for days, even weeks, at a time, which Malek was uncomfortable with, no matter Darin protested that he didn’t mind. It wasn’t very fair on his host, although unfortunately it was a necessity they both agreed with. There was another issue that bothered him though: despite his best efforts over the past decade that they had been blended, Darin had yet to demonstrate much confidence in his own abilities, and was still somewhat overawed and shy around other Tok’ra; Malek couldn’t help but feel that this was something he should have overcome by now, and that he hadn’t done as well by the man as he should have done.
Malek had met Darin in the course of a mission gone horribly wrong; in fact, in the course of a mission being hastily aborted. He and his previous host, Althea, had been undercover on a Goa’uld world controlled by Kali, gaining intelligence on Jaffa troop movements; a primitive farming world whose only strategic interest was its convenient position to supply the Jaffa armies. The Goa’uld overseer had staged a public execution of some of the local leaders of an organised protest at the cruel working conditions, and this had unexpectedly led to a full-scale rebellion, which was put down with ruthless and bloody efficiency by the Jaffa. He and Althea had decided to leave before Kali herself arrived to terrify her subjects back into submission. They had been escaping through the forest back to the Stargate when they had come across a fleeing family; Althea had argued that they should help them, and, reservations aside, he had agreed. It had proved to be a grave error of judgement; Althea had been fatally wounded as they were trying to shield a young girl, Darin’s sister. Darin, a gangly, terrified youth, more boy than man, had offered to host him in exchange for saving her life. He’d had his doubts, but was hardly in a position to decline. And so had begun their life together.
Darin was a cheerful, good-natured, loyal and gentle man, and Malek had no cause to regret their blending, but Darin was very conscious that he was an ignorant farmhand from a backward planet; as the youngest son of three of a poor family he had held little prospects in life, and he had even thought Malek one of his gods when he’d first blended with him! He’d been too scared and deferent to so much as think his opinion, much less express his wishes, and having his beliefs overturned in such an intimate and abrupt fashion had doubtless also been a shock. It had taken much patient work on Malek’s part to coax him out of his shell. Darin had no particular skills in warfare, counter-insurgency, scientific or other knowledge of his own, all of which Malek possessed in abundance, and Darin considered himself, if not actually stupid, then certainly very much his symbiote’s intellectual inferior. This generally meant that he tended to defer to Malek in most situations; indeed, whenever he could. He was a great contrast to Althea, who had been a confident, fiery and highly independent woman, which also didn’t help: Darin had considered himself an unworthy successor, which was just absurd. Malek had never been convinced by his friend Delek’s opinion that more submissive hosts tended to make for an easier blending; certainly it was not so in his case, although he could understand why Delek might think so. He suspected what made it difficult was when the two personalities were very contrasting, but that could be a strength, once the difficulties were worked out, like Martouf and Lantash, for instance. Nevertheless, he wished Darin could be persuaded to be a little more forthcoming on occasions.
Remembering their initial meeting again gave Malek an idea. How about we go and visit Shiya and the children after this is over? he suggested. It had been a while since Darin had seen his sister and nephews.
I’d like that, his host replied, noticeably brightening, If you don’t mind.
Of course I don’t mind! It’s been too long since we’ve visited. Besides, we deserve a holiday. It’s been a hectic time lately.
It certainly has. Hectic didn’t quite cover it: the past few months had seen a seemingly endless stream of disruption to their lives. Their base had been infiltrated by an Ashrak and betrayed to the System Lords, resulting in the deaths of many Tok’ra and necessitating an emergency evacuation to the Tau’ri Alpha site, unfortunately followed by the Ashrak, who caused chaos amongst the fragile alliance between the Jaffa, Tok’ra and Tau’ri there. Darin had an absolute distrust and hatred of the Jaffa after what they had done to his family and people, and had understandably been on edge the whole time, hiding behind Malek, who wasn’t exactly thrilled at the situation either. Admittedly his behaviour hadn’t been entirely exemplary, but in the end they had prevailed. Oh yes, and he owed his life to a Jaffa, twice over - how utterly galling that was! Then there had come the unlooked-for and swiftly crushed hope when they’d found and lost Egeria in the space of a day, a pain that he still felt. Since then his time had been occupied primarily by adapting the tretonin to make it suitable for the Jaffa; their numbers had been so depleted that the Tok’ra from his former base had been absorbed into other groups, and he had found himself deputised wherever he was needed; an itinerant and worrisome existence. He had only very recently been promoted base commander before the Ashrak incident, and felt the weight of the responsibility keenly.
Now Garshaw had insisted he take a field mission for a change. Perhaps she could see he was getting stressed being cooped up in the tunnels managing things; more likely it was just the fortuitous coincidence that he had worked undercover here before, only this time he had a new host whose face was unknown to the Goa’uld. It was an irritating mission really; he was supposed to be posing as the Goa’uld overseer of several naquadah mines that had previously been under Lord Yu’s control, but would now likely be taken over by Baal. He was there to negotiate the re-supply to Kali instead, thereby distributing some of the power away from Baal. He could see the logic, but he really didn’t like what essentially amounted to giving naquadah to a Goa’uld, even if he knew that one or other of them would get it anyway. Still, all going well, the later plan was to sabotage the supply lines and implicate Baal in the damage, thus sowing more discord between the System Lords. So a dreary few days of negotiating with a nauseating Goa’uld, namely Kali’s representative Surith, and acting like one himself. Wonderful.
And dressing like one, Darin reminded him. Malek winced. He’d forgotten that part. As their destination came into view, Malek piloted the tel’tak in a slow arc over the great stone city, looking for a suitable landing site. It was impressive, but the planet was ancient and the civilisation that had built the city was long gone, destroyed in one of the many Goa’uld skirmishes over territory. Nor did it have a stargate; at least, not any more. Armed Jaffa circled below, clearly anticipating his arrival. Good.
Ready? he asked Darin, straightening the ridiculous high collar.
Ready when you are. They stepped out together, appearing as one.
* * *
“Incoming wormhole sir!” Walter announced, with characteristic gusto. The man clearly never tired of his job, “It’s a Jaffa IDC.”
“Open the iris.” General Hammond and Jack O’Neill watched from the control room as Teal’c hastened down to the gateroom. No sooner had the iris opened than a young Jaffa came hurtling out, almost tumbling down the ramp in his haste.
“Rya’c!” Teal’c exclaimed, rushing to embrace his son, but his smile immediately faded in the face of the boy’s distress. “Father! Father we must leave at once! Master Bra’tac has been captured!” Teal’c at once drew back, shocked.
“How has this come to pass?” he demanded to know. Rya’c was so agitated he could hardly get his words out, “He went to meet with some Jaffa that were loyal to Kali but were coming over to the rebellion! They passed on some information before so we believed them but they betrayed him! We warned him not to go alone and to meet in neutral territory but they claimed they could not get away and he would not listen! We must leave now - we must save him!”
“Calm yourself, my son,” Teal’c said, in tones of absolute reassurance, although the grim set of his jaw offered a glimpse of his own inner distress, “We will not abandon Master Bra’tac, but we can do nothing useful unprepared. Come and make your report to the Tau’ri and we will assess the situation.”
“Yes father,” Rya’c said meekly, recovering himself a little, and followed Teal’c out of the gateroom.
Endure, Bra’tac told himself, over and over again, Endure, and, more prosaically, Breathe! He drew a shuddering suck of damp air down a raw throat, feeling the screaming protest of broken ribs as his lungs expanded. He could not last much longer; they were not being careful in their quest for information. He no longer had a symbiote to sustain him, or repair his injuries. And he was fast running out of the tretonin that substituted for its absence anyway. This he did not mind. He accepted the undoubted disadvantages as an acceptable price to pay for his freedom. As for the torture, he did not mind that either: a Jaffa master could endure mere physical discomfort and he would not bow down to his enemies. Death was inevitable; true, it was a little vexing that it was coming so soon, but he did not fear it. If he had one wish, it would be to live to see his people at last liberated from the Goa’uld, but if he did not, so be it. That day was coming, as surely as the rising of the sun; this he believed with all his being.
And in the meantime, he did not give up, he did not surrender. There was still a chance of rescue. Although he did not wish anyone to attempt such foolishness, he strongly suspected certain headstrong Jaffa would do exactly that. Moreover, he would not reveal any information, and he would not betray his brethren, even if some of them had, alas, betrayed him. He did not blame them for their actions: the habits of both slavery and loyalty, of delusion in false religion, were hard to break. Almost as hard to break as he was, he thought, with a wry, self-satisfied grin to himself in the dark of his cell. Almost, but not quite. It was a telling sign that, whilst there were Jaffa guards on the doors, Surith had assigned only humans to dispense the rations of tretonin they had taken from him, and his torturer was a Goa’uld. Clearly, Kali was not so sure of her Jaffa’s loyalty that she wanted them to know about the tretonin.
He heard footsteps approaching the door; he thought it was about time for another “talk.” Endure, he told himself, as the heavy key turned in the door; Endure.
“Greetings, Lord Surith,” Malek intoned formally, with a slight inclination, when the Jaffa brought him into the main hall. The Goa’uld lounged upon a throne, leg hung over one side, regarding him from hooded eyes. Surith didn’t quite rate the title lord, but it never hurt to pander to a Goa’uld’s ego. Surith’s eyes flashed briefly, almost dully, in tune with a toothy, insincere smile, and he brought his leg back with a rustle of garish green satin.
“Hanite,” he returned, less respectful, “How good of you to come all the way to this…charming little rural retreat of mine.” Oh, somebody was unhappy or at very least bored with their position here, though his posture and voice remained languid; almost strangely so. Not that he could particularly blame him for his disinterest. The planet’s main distinguishing features seemed to be it’s humid jungle and voracious insect life. “You must be fatigued from your long journey, and I, personally, never discuss business after noon. I would be pleased if you would join me for dinner, and then tomorrow morning we can get down to the matter in hand.” Wonderful. Now he to socialise with a nauseating Goa’uld.
“I would be delighted,” he replied.
“Splendid.”
Three hours and some exotic courses later, he finally escaped to his assigned quarters, opening the door onto opulent decadence, and trying not to wince. Well, he wouldn’t be able to see the colours in the dark. Surith was an opium addict, well, an opium aficionado, at any rate; it was always rather difficult to tell with the Goa’uld. Most of them were rather enamoured with sensual entertainments of various descriptions; many of which he’d demonstrated already tonight, but an actual addiction to anything other than the sarcophagus would be quite an impressive feat for a symbiote. It was abundantly clear Surith spent his days doing the minimum required to keep Kali satisfied with his service, and the rest of the time amused himself in more pleasurable pursuits.
Well, so would I, just not in quite the same way, Darin offered, ‘voicing’ his thoughts for the first time since they had got here. By mutual agreement he ordinarily kept silent whilst they were undercover, so as not to risk distraction, but a little communion in the privacy of their quarters did not hurt.
I daresay it will make this a reasonably easy negotiation, Malek returned, pulling his boots off inside the receptacle area. Although it is strange that he appears to lack the raging ambition of most of his kind.
Probably drugged himself out of it.
That, or he schemes endlessly but lacks the ability or the nerve to carry it out. Malek suddenly paused, on guard. He could hear something in the other room, the bedroom. Cautiously, he stepped inside. A pretty trio of scantily dressed slave girls knelt waiting at the end of the bed, heads bowed.
Wonderful, he thought sourly, How generous of our host.
Malek, Darin thought nervously, I know we’re undercover but we can’t! It’s not right! In principle, Malek agreed, although in most instances his Tok’ra pragmatism could justify a lot. Darin had very severe views about certain things however.
“Leave me,” he commanded, as imperiously as he could muster, “I do not require your services.” He did not say why not; Goa’uld did not explain themselves to slaves. At once they rose, bowed to him and left quietly, but one, the youngest, probably, hesitated.
“My lord,” she ventured, in a voice that trembled with fear, bowing as low as she possibly could, “Do we displease you?”
“By no means. I merely require rest and to be alone.” She smiled tentatively, and backed out.
What happened to ‘Goa’uld don’t explain themselves to slaves?’
Well, she was inquiring after our comfort, and she doubtless feared Surith’s wrath. Anyway, it’s true, and we also have a terrible headache after that fug of opium smoke wafting all round the hall.
That and the wine.
He stripped off tiredly, and fell onto the bed, which was so soft it almost swallowed him whole, much to his disgust.
This is going to be a long mission, he thought to Darin, and began working on the headache.
* * *
“General Hammond,” Teal’c stated for about the fifth time since Rya’c had made his report. “We must mount a rescue immediately. Delay merely lowers the chances that Master Bra’tac will still be alive.”
“Teal’c,” General Hammond repeated patiently, but firmly, “I appreciate your position, and I will take your request under advisement, but I can’t send a team on a dangerous mission without good cause or without proper preparation and intelligence.”
“Then I request that I be allowed to leave myself immediately.”
“Hold on a minute T - “ O’Neill started to interject, “We just need more intel, nobody’s suggesting we abandon Bra’tac, are they….are they, General?” Hammond’s mouth creased in a firm line as he sucked in his patience.
“Of course not Teal’c, but neither can we go in ignorant and unprepared. And I would like to know why the rebel Jaffa themselves haven’t sent a rescue.” Frowning, Teal’c glanced at Rya’c.
“We do not have the resources to spare for another two weeks,” the warrior admitted, looking and sounding very much like the young teenager he was, “All our ships are currently in use on other missions, and the planet where we believe he has been taken has no functional stargate.”
“See, that’s some useful information right there,” O’Neill pointed out, helpfully. “Actually, where is this gateless wonder anyway?”
“Kedan,” Teal’c supplied, “It is under the control of a minor Goa’uld lord called Surith, who holds allegiance to Kali, at the edge of her territory. It is a relatively unimportant and poorly defended facility, of little strategic worth to Kali. Surith himself is a decadent and indifferent overlord. A rescue should be relatively easy.”
“We have plans of the palace complex in the capital,” Rya’c added, then admitted, with a guilty look at Teal’c, “Although they are rather old.”
“Plans are good.” O’Neill pointed out.
“Sir, we do have a tel’tak capable of cloaking,” Carter added, calling up a star map of the region. Rya’c excitedly pointed out the location of Kedan. “Well, that’s not too bad, sir. If we gate to P3X569 first, we shouldn’t have to fly far through Goa’uld territory to get there.”
“And, of course, there’s always the fact that Bra’tac is one of the leaders of the rebel Jaffa,” Daniel supplied, “If he were lost it would be a severe blow to the morale of the rebel army; a psychological strike in favour of the System Lords. Rescuing him however would go a long way to raising our credibility as warriors amongst the rebel Jaffa and our worthiness as allies.” Hammond pursed his lips, sighing. He knew when he was being ganged up on.
“All right SG-1,” he conceded.
“We have a go?” O’Neill asked hopefully.
“You put a comprehensive plan on my desk in three hours and then you have a go.” Hammond said sternly, walking out.
“Aw crud!”
Malek retreated to the relative peace and quiet of his quarters, and pulled his boots off rather unsteadily. Easy mission indeed! This was interminable! In addition to never working after noon, Surith apparently never worked before breakfast either, which he took late. In fact, the man basically did about one hour’s worth of anything useful a day, which was making the negotiations drag on relentlessly. The rest of the time he had to endure the Goa’uld’s idea of hospitality; he was almost beginning to think that Surith was lonely ¬- certainly he was bored, and clearly enjoyed having a fellow evil despot to share his pastimes with.
Darin? Malek questioned silently. His unlucky host had to hide all day too.
Whuh? Darin answered muzzily, as though he had only just woken up. Possibly he had. Why are we feeling funny Malek?
Because we’re in a state of chemical intoxication.
Oh. A pause. We’re what?
Doped. Stoned. I’m sorry, I didn’t feel it politic to refuse Surith’s drugs anymore; he was beginning to take it personally.
S’okay. Can we get unstoned now please? I’m not sure I like this.
Working on it. What a long day. Still, I’ve finally talked him round to an equitable agreement. It just remains to sign the deal tomorrow morning.
Thank goodness for that.
You can say that again.. I’m beginning to think this is one of Garshaw’s little jokes. You know what she’s like. Griping to his host, he crossed to the bathroom and splashed some water on their face, failing to notice the new addition to his apartment until Darin drew it to his attention, nervously.
Uh, Malek?
What?
I think we shouldn’t have refused the slave girls again. Malek looked round to see three pretty slave boys wearing naught but a few wisps of silk and a lot of rouge between them, obediently waiting in his bedroom. Inwardly, he allowed himself a heartfelt groan.
Bra’tac was never one to flinch from reality, and the reality now was that he would, in all likelihood, perish on this oppressive swampy planet, and not live to see his people freed. It made him angry; it made him, briefly, despairing, but he was long past the effort such emotions took, and so he merely hung there, suspended from his chains, and told himself, over and over, to endure, to whatever end came to him. They had been more aggressive, more desperate, these past couple of days, which made him suspect that they were working to a deadline; that something was going to happen. Either that or they were running out of tretonin faster than he imagined. Possibly it would be an opportunity for escape; he had tried earlier, of course, but had not been successful. And Teal’c would not abandon him, nor Rya’c for that matter - was there ever such a headstrong boy as that young Jaffa? Actually, now that he thought about it, there was, and it had been Teal’c, not so long ago. It was worth a smile, in the dark of his cell. Time would tell.
Then another thought occurred to him. It was true that Teal’c would certainly come to his rescue - with SG-1. Not that he didn’t respect and like the members of SG-1 - but - to be rescued by humans again! He’d be the laughing stock of all Jaffa! He began renewing his efforts to escape. He was not going to be rescued by the Tau’ri!
* * *
“Ah, my dear Hanite, my boys tell me they were not to your taste either. And yet you seem a gentleman of impeccable taste, it is most curious.” Surith’s tone was contemptuous, if not actively suspicious, and his eyes widened in mock horror. “Please don’t tell me you prefer Jaffa.” Malek had no need to feign his shudder of revulsion.
“Hardly.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, affecting embarrassment, “If you must know, my Lord is somewhat displeased with me for…overindulging in such pursuits at my last negotiation. I am refraining until his wits get dulled again. Somehow, he always finds out.” Surith roared with laughter.
“A shame. Well, you are always welcome to visit again. It has been a pleasure.” Malek inclined his head, willing him to affix his seal just that little bit faster.
“Likewise. I am pleased that we have managed to conclude our business to our mutual satisfaction. I am sure Kali will also be satisfied.”
“Indeed she will,” Surith agreed, then heaved a melodramatic sigh. “My Lord is not entirely pleased with me either, of late. I confess to having grown a little…slack. If only my other surprise for her had worked out better.”
“Oh?”
“Nothing too grand, just a little gift.” A sidelong glance; Surith was playing coy, but Malek knew he wouldn’t be able to resist gloating. Sure enough, in the next moment the Goa’uld leaned forward excitedly.
“Well, I’m sure I can tell you: my soldiers had the good fortune to capture a leader of that despicable rebel Jaffa army - none less than the Jaffa master Bra’tac himself.”
“Indeed! Quite a prize.” It was only years of training that kept Malek from starting in dismayed surprise.
“Yes. Can you believe the impudent traitor actually thought he could persuade some of my Jaffa to turncoat? Outrageous!”
“Quite. I fail to see how Kali can be displeased with you for this.”
“Oh, it is only that we have so far failed to extract any information from him, and I so hoped to supply her with something useful. Specifically, I know that there is a rebel base somewhere in her territory, but I do not know where. He does, and he inconsiderately will not share this information with me. She’s coming here herself in two days time and as it is the wretched creature may have the bad grace to die before then! And then what use will he be?”
“I had thought Jaffa were supposed to be stronger than that, especially one as formidable as his reputation suggests. Is there a problem with his symbiote?”
Malek…Darin was trying to get his attention, which was inadvisable.
Not now!
“Oh that’s where it gets completely disgusting!” Surith was declaring, waving his hands dramatically. “Apparently - can you believe this? - the shameless rebels would stoop so low as to form common cause with those loathsome Tok’ra - and they have synthesised some sort of chemical substitute, which we are running out of.”
“How revolting,” Malek screwed up his face, “But can you not just give him a new symbiote?”
Malek!
Quiet! He felt Darin flinch; he hated being stern with him but this was not the time.
“We tried that, twice. The first time he somehow managed to rip it out of himself, the second his system rejected it. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s rather fascinating, in a macabre sort of way.” Surith suddenly brightened, one of his swift mood changes, “But that is not your problem, of course. Forgive me keeping you. I will have you escorted back to your ship.” Malek bowed.
“Thank you.” He took his leave and began to walk off.
Malek, Darin tried again, tentatively, We have to help him. He saved our lives. We can’t just abandon him.
I have no wish to, but I do not know what we can do by ourselves. Even if we succeeded in breaking him out of wherever Surith is keeping him, we would never escape the planet. We would have every Jaffa here on our tails in minutes, and one thing Surith does have, since he has no stargate, is plenty of ships. The best we can do is get help and return. We may even be able to do so before Kali arrives. I promise you we will do everything we can.
Darin was silent then as they walked back to their tel’tac. Malek could tell he was upset; he was upset himself. In truth he knew that even the little they could do would likely prove futile, or too late, and he was under no illusions about persuading other Tok’ra to undertake a rescue mission for a Jaffa: even if they wished to, such direct operations were not their forte. He thought furiously; perhaps they could go to the Tau’ri? Galling, but if they had to…Darin remained silent. I’m sorry, he added, trying to appease him, I truly don’t see what else we can do. No response. Wonderful. Now he’d made Darin retreat into his shell and he would take some coaxing out of it again. He was surprised, then, when Darin spoke up again, albeit in a note of extreme timorousness.
Malek, I…his host trailed off. Malek could feel the waves of insecurity flooding through him.
What? Dear one, please tell me.
I…I have an idea. It’s probably stupid but…He gleaned the gist of the idea from Darin’s uncertain thoughts as they unfolded in his own mind, and almost stopped dead in their tracks.
You want us to pretend to be a Tok’ra? We ARE Tok’ra!
Surith doesn’t know that. Please, Malek, this can work. Malek considered it, but he was highly doubtful; it was not exactly well-planned out.
You don’t have to do this for me, Darin told him gently, I won’t be offended. I know it’s a great risk. He caught then, a trace of Darin’s guilt about Althea’s death, the last time he’d deviated from a mission and taken such a risk. Was that why he didn’t want to try this? No, he was by nature a rational creature: frankly, it was a ridiculous plan, fraught with uncertainty and danger. He had serious doubts as to whether they could pull it off.
It’s all right, Malek, I know I can’t think like you can. Dammit, he’d been thinking out loud again.
Don’t put yourself down like that. It’s a plan that, well, that the Tau’ri would definitely think was a worthy one. He felt Darin’s rising amusement at that, and knew he’d struck the right note. Garshaw is going to be seriously unimpressed though. And then he knew that he’d agreed to it, that they were going to try it.
You can blame me.
Never. We’re in this together. Let’s go. Malek stopped walking.
“Jaffa,” he said to Surith’s First Prime, as imperiously as he could manage, “I require further conversation with your Lord. Return me to him at once.” The Jaffa looked slightly confused, but bowed and led them back the way they had come.
“Hanite, dear Hanite!” Surith declared, positively cackling, “How very novel of you! Let me see if I have this aright: you pretend to be one of these Jaffa’s Tok’ra allies, and ‘rescue’ him from me, and once you have safely ‘escaped’, he inputs the coordinates for his rebel base, which you can then transmit to me. You, my friend, are a true original. And quite possibly mad.” Malek aimed for haughty, which usually worked with Goa’uld.
“Do you doubt that I can do it?”
“I frankly think it rather an unlikely plan, but it’s so delightful we simply must try it. I haven’t had any decent entertainment in such a long time. Besides, he won’t believe any of my Jaffa since they quite rightly turned him in, and it’s not as if it can make the situation any worse even if it doesn’t work.” Surith suddenly turned serious. “Now tell me what Lord Yu gets from this. I am not going to grant you any more concessions on our trade agreement. I simply cannot bear the thought of having it re-drafted.” Neither can I, Malek thought, dryly.
“Who said my Lord was to get anything from this? This is a personal favour from me, to you. In return you could certainly improve the tedium of my service to him, by, say, filling up my tel’tac with some of that fine quality opium you have.” Surith dissolved into laughter.
“Consider it done. Actually, give my Jaffa a little time to stow it out of sight so they are not there when you make your daring escape. Can you pretend to be a Tok’ra actually?” Malek deliberately modulated his voice.
“Surely I just have to talk like this?” Surith narrowed his eyes slyly.
“Not quite, they do possess two distinct personalities. I’ve encountered them before. Nauseating as I understand this must be for you, you must pretend that your host is in control some of the time for it to be convincing.” Surith, Malek reflected, could occasionally muster a certain shrewdness. He decided to play dumb and arrogant.
“Nonsense. Heresy, in fact. Nothing of the host remains.”
“Of course not,” Surith grinned. “Pretend, Hannite. Act!”
Shall I? Darin offered.
No, I am very suspicious of him. We must get this a bit wrong.
“I will try,” Malek said out loud, in Darin’s voice, and contriving to look unconvincingly human, “Erm, how about this: Death to the System Lords!” Surith laughed.
“Well, let’s try it. And we have to get you something hideously drab to wear. Tok’ra have the worse fashion sense in the galaxy, you wouldn’t believe it. They make peasants look classy.” Darin dissolved helplessly into mental giggles at that.
“Please instruct your Jaffa not to actually shoot me,” Malek said, once again ‘Hannite’, and valiantly ignoring Darin’s sniggering, “Or this will be a very short-lived rescue attempt.”
Malek! Darin’s thought was urgent, panicked, almost jolting his concentration as he stealthily ‘infiltrated’ his way into the lower levels of Surith’s palace. Bra’tac will recognise us - what if he gives us away?!
A possibility, Malek admitted, one that he had already considered, But I doubt it. Bra’tac is a professional and a wily old man; he won’t reveal that he knows us unless he is certain that it is safe to do so, I am quite sure.
And this Tok’ra outfit is wrong! He’s going to be very suspicious!
Calm yourself, Malek admonished gently. It will be fine. Surith’s memory I imagine isn’t what it used to be, but this is a fair approximation of jungle camouflage.
We look like we crawled out a swamp!
As I say, jungle camouflage through opium-fugged memory. Hush. Here we go. This is the right cell. He paused just around the corner. This had to look right. Not only was he supposed to be effecting a genuine rescue to ‘fool’ Bra’tac, but he was well aware that Surith was watching. He had to make it look convincing to him too. Or at least semi-convincing. He sighed. When did his life get this complicated? He crept up on the Jaffa, and, after a brief scuffle, pretended to knock them out, took the keys and swung open the heavy door.
It took a brief moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloomy, foul-smelling dungeon, but he could see Master Bra’tac hanging from manacles set high in the damp walls; limp and motionless.
“Jaffa!” Malek called, in a human-sounding, exaggerated stage whisper, and Bra’tac’s head raised fractionally. Deep-set eyes glinted at him. “I am Hannite of the Tok’ra!” he declared, before Bra’tac said anything, deliberately ‘forgetting’ the false name of Shenned that Surith and he had decided upon, then switched his voice back. “And, er, I am Shenned. Also of the Tok’ra. I’m the Goa’uld symbiote.” Surith was probably rolling his eyes at his performance. “I, that is we, have come to rescue you!” Bra’tac was staring at him, quite possibly wondering if either or both (or all three?) of them had gone mad.
“I see,” he said at last.
“Quickly!” Malek urged, releasing the manacles and catching his weight as the Jaffa sagged into his arms. “We must hurry before Surith discovers us! I have a tel’tac hidden in the jungle just south of the city. Can you walk?”
“Of course,” Bra’tac bristled, then promptly fell to his knees the moment Malek let go of his arm. “In a minute. Perhaps with some minor assistance.”
“I’m not carrying you!” Malek protested shrilly, knowing that a real Goa’uld would be aghast at carrying a Jaffa.
“Then we will walk slowly.” Malek handed him a flask of water, which the Jaffa drank greedily, then slung Bra’tac’s arm over his shoulder and hastily exited the dungeon. Bra'tac struggled heroically, and did not complain, but every step had to be an agony for him, and there was no way they could make it all the way back to the tel’tac. Especially as any minute now some ‘hot pursuit’ was coming after them from which they had to narrowly get away.
Surely Surith has some rings somewhere in this damn palace? Darin suggested desperately.
Yes. East wing. Malek recalled, dredging up the floor plans from their earlier guided tour. Although they were rather old. Hopefully the rings were still there.
“Rings!” he said out loud, dragging Bra’tac to the left, “We must make it to the rings!” The Jaffa did not reply; probably he did not have the breath to.
Sure enough, sounds of pursuit started up as the prisoner’s ‘escape’ was ‘discovered’, and Malek tried to get them to walk faster. He hoped Surith’s Jaffa were adjusting to the change in plan.
“You should leave me,” Bra’tac rasped, as the sound of heavy running boots approached, “I am slowing you down, and I am almost out of tretonin anyway.”
“Never!” Malek declared, with a flamboyant wave, whilst thinking to Darin:
Stupid Jaffa! Now is not the time for noble self-sacrifice! A particularly poorly-aimed staff blast struck the wall at their side, and he picked up the pace. They skittered down the corridors, zigzagging, and their pursuit died away.
“We’ve lost them,” Bra’tac murmured, frowning, clearly not believing they could be that stupid. Their luck did not hold out however; they literally ran across another pair of guards at the entry to the east wing, Jaffa that Malek feared had not been briefed on the plan. He knew they shouldn’t have deviated from the agreed route. He zatted one straightaway and thought he got the other, and they ducked round the corner, down some worn stone steps. A staff blast exploded inches behind their feet, and, encumbered by the Jaffa, he tripped and fell down the stones in his attempt to shield him, cracking the back of his head on the hard stone floor.
Darin abruptly found himself in control, befuddled and terrified. Bra’tac was lying on the floor beside him, and Surith’s Jaffa was approaching, aiming his staff weapon. Desperately, he fumbled with the zat; Malek had amazingly kept hold of it even as they fell and he managed to raise it and shoot the Jaffa first. Beside him, Bra’tac was struggling to his feet. He lay sprawled there, petrified.
Malek! Malek answer me! I can’t do this by myself!
“Come!” Now Bra’tac was urging him on, even as he levered himself up against the wall.
“I - ! I can’t!” he cried, “Ma - I mean, Han - I mean - I -“ Malek! Malek! Please! he wailed over and over in his mind, but only a deafening silence met him. He staggered to his feet. Bra’tac was looking as alarmed as he probably allowed himself to look.
“The ring room,” he said, forcefully. With an effort, Darin pulled himself together, struggled to recall their whereabouts in the palace, then, helping Bra’tac, set off determinedly down the stairs, into the east wing. Without Malek’s regulation, the adrenaline was pouring round his system, and his heart was pounding, mind racing, muscles protesting. He could only hope that Malek had merely been knocked unconscious by the fall, and was not seriously injured, or, worse, dead. He had no actual way of knowing. If he were, it would only be a short matter of time before the symbiote poison made its’ way through his system and they both died. Which meant that it was even more imperative that he get Bra’tac to safety as soon as possible. He just somehow had to do it on his own. The fear rose again.
They made it into the ring room and Darin started keying the coordinates in. Suddenly another group of Jaffa poured, so he pulled them both into the rings and activated them just as they started firing; they de-materialised just in the nick of time. He wasn’t even sure whether that particular group of Jaffa were the ones that had been briefed as part of the act or not. That had been all too convincingly close.
“That was lucky!” he declared anyway, unnecessarily, and dragged Bra’tac across to the controls and sat down at the console; a light was blinking and he cursed. Surith’s Jaffa had apparently left the cargo hold door open from where they’d been loading on board all his opium. He made his way to the rear and surprised the Jaffa still loading the opium on - of course, they were early, having used the rings! - and he ducked back round the bulkhead and began aiming zat blasts out the door. He knew this had been going too easy for something that was supposed to be easy. Malek still hadn’t woken up, if he was going to, and it was all his fault. He could see Bra’tac come limping back to help out of the corner of his eye, which he didn’t need. He would see the opium, and Surith surely had a monitor planted somewhere on the ship.
Darin decided that a Goa’uld didn’t really care about the Jaffa outside any more than he did, and aimed his zat blasts a bit more precisely. He knocked out two and the others fell back, then slammed the door shut.
“What is all this stuff?” Bra’tac wondered, approaching him.
“It’s part of my cover!” Darin snapped nervously.
“Cover? You’re a drug dealer?”
“Yes! Now get up front!” Bra’tac gave him a hard look but did as he was told. Darin started up the engines and prepared to launch. He wished he’d got the flying practice in earlier. A few harmless staff blasts grazed the sides of the tel’tac as they lifted into the sky, and he swerved the craft uncertainly. Bra’tac gave him a sharp look, and no wonder; first he was chased by Jaffa that couldn’t shoot straight, now he was being rescued by a Tok’ra who couldn’t fly straight. There was a horrible screeching sound as the trees scraped along the sides of the hull, and he struggled with the controls, willing the ship to lift. A crash on their underneath, and then the jungle was rushing by in a blur of deep green beneath them; brief flash of grey clouds, then blue, blue and out into the deep black of space. Bra’tac sagged, and abruptly passed out, head crashing forward onto the console.
“Bra’tac!” Darin yelled at him, panicked at the thought of being completely alone, “Don’t you die on me!” Then he remembered their listeners. “We need to get to the rebel base! Bra’tac!”
“I’m awake, stop yelling Tok’ra,” the Jaffa growled, blinking and hauling himself upright.
“Take the controls,” Darin urged, although he didn’t want to abandon them. Not that Bra’tac could do any worse. Malek! Now would be a really good time for you to wake up! Still no response. This was looking very bad. Genuinely worried, both for Malek and Bra’tac, he hurried aft to find a hand device and also the remaining meagre supply of tretonin he had. Suddenly, Surith’s own ships screamed into view; too slow, Bra’tac reached for the controls and they lurched heavily starboard, the weapons impacting on their hull: it would have been even worse if they’d been aiming accurately. Then, running forward, he took the controls back from the semi-conscious Jaffa and began flying for his life.
* * *
It was fortunate, Darin reflected, that the Jaffa weren’t really supposed to catch them, because they probably would have if they’d been trying harder. At length though, they lost their pursuit and he was able to relax a little, but only a little. It wouldn’t matter if they coasted in this general direction for a bit whilst they recovered but he had to satisfy Surith, and soon. Things were not good. His mind was echoingly silent, Bra’tac was in very bad shape and there was still the question of how exactly they were going to give Surith the slip for real, before he became too suspicious, or where they could go to that was both close and safe, without betraying their whereabouts. Malek hadn’t had a definitive plan for that part - and neither did he. Well, first things first.
“Here,” he told Bra’tac, handing him the last of the tretonin. “That’s all we could steal from Surith’s supply.” Bra’tac gave him a bleary-eyed look that still managed to be shrewdly assessing.
“Fortunate for me that you managed to steal it from under the eyes of Surith’s exceedingly vigilant Jaffa,” he replied, dryly. Darin looked pointedly towards the cargo hold, then back again.
“We are an exceedingly talented operative.” Bra’tac’s gaze followed his and he nodded slightly.
“So it would seem.” Bra’tac was thoughtful, but the ghost of a smile chased across his features; clearly he was no fool. “Although not a very good pilot.” Darin decided that it was time to give Surith the information he wanted and get out of here. Especially as the Goa’uld was doubtless wondering why he was speaking in the host’s voice continuously now.
“A fair comment. I believe the tel’tac has been damaged, and my symbiote has, a, uh, headache. It would be best for us to find safe haven and medical treatment as soon as possible. I had initially intended we leave this sector, but I think it would be best if we headed for the nearest Jaffa rebel base. I believe there is one nearby but I do not know the location itself.”
“Fortunately I do,” Bra’tac answered, his gaze not leaving Darin’s face as he spoke, “And equally fortunately, I did not reveal it to Surith’s Jaffa, so it is still a secure world.”
“Perhaps you would care to enter the coordinates.” Darin suggested, signalling a definite ‘No’ with his hand, just in case the Jaffa didn’t realise they were being overheard. Surith hadn’t had time to install a complex tracking device on the tel’tac; instead he had just rigged the console to transmit any entered coordinates directly back to his waiting ships. Bra’tac paused.
“Very well,” he said at last, “I am not entirely happy with the plan but it appears that we have lost our pursuit, so I see no real danger of discovery.”
“Good.” Bra’tac reached for the console and began keying in strokes - Darin didn’t know where for, but they were clearly false.
“Inputting coordinates now.” As soon as he had done so, Darin opened up the console and pulled out a crystal, then inputted new coordinates. “I am going for a drink of water,” Bra’tac announced - pointing at Darin’s zat. Darin handed it over silently.
“There appears to be a listening device here!” the Jaffa called from the back. “Surith apparently doesn’t trust you as much as you think. Perhaps we should go elsewhere.”
“No,” Darin called back, “We have revealed nothing. Just destroy it now.” Bra’tac promptly did so then limped back to his chair.
“It will take his ships a few hours to realise they have been made fools of, and by then we should be safe,” he remarked, then fixed Darin with that canny gaze. “Well, now what is going on?”
“It’s a long story,” Darin admitted, tight-lipped, “Let me start healing you first.” He went and got the healing device and affixed it to his palm.
“Would not Malek be better?”
“Actually no, it’s one thing I’ve always been quite good at, and he does badly,” Darin said, sadly, and fell quiet. Malek…he called over and over, trying again, but there was nothing. Nothing at all, and it was all his fault.
As the pain eased a little, and he found that he breathed more easily, Bra’tac became more aware of his surroundings. Possibly he had lapsed into unconsciousness again whilst the Tok’ra had been healing him; he did not know. He glanced at Darin; but his face bespoke of a tense unhappiness, and he feared there was a bad reason for it.
“Have you been injured?” he asked directly. Darin looked startled.
“No, no, I am fine.”
“And Malek?” Darin shot him a tight, distressed look.
“Malek has been unresponsive since we fell down the steps,” he admitted at last, confirming the Jaffa’s suspicions.
“He is unconscious?” Bra’tac was a little surprised to discover how concerned he was.
“I hope that is all it is. I do not know. I have to tell you that if he is seriously injured then I will shortly be in no better state myself. You will have to take over. I have inputted new coordinates. We will fly to the nearest safe planet that has a stargate, a couple of hours away, and then fly through that to get to a Jaffa or Tok’ra base.”
“I understand.” Bra’tac was grave. “What is your name?” Darin took a deep breath, tried to pull himself together.
“I am Darin.”
“You have saved my life, Darin. It is an honour to meet you.”
“We both saved you,” came the muttered reply, “Malek and I. And you met me before.”
“But you did not speak.” Darin ducked his head.
“I am not yet very skilled at missions. I prefer to leave Malek in charge.”
“That does not seem entirely fair.” Darin shot him a suspicious look at that, and he regretted it immediately; he had no wish to imply that the symbiote suppressed it’s host. Once he might have countenanced such a thing of the Tok’ra. Not now. But Darin’s expression saddened again almost immediately.
“It’s not,” he admitted, “I never really realised it before, but it’s not fair on Malek at all. He gets to do all the work, take all the responsibility and make all the difficult decisions, then, because he feels guilty that he has been in charge for so long, he lets me come fore for most of our recreational time. He is of course far more suited to running our missions, and I don’t believe that a human host can ever truly hold the long-term perspective that a symbiote does, but nevertheless I - I should take some more responsibility myself. I should support him more, at least.” Bra’tac made no comment; sometimes only listening was required, and, in truth, he was learning more about the Tok’ra in one conversation than he had in all the rest of his lifetime.
“We decided to go and see my family after this mission was over,” Darin continued, almost to himself, “And if we do, then I’m going to make sure he gets some time. My sister is accepting, but most of my family are very uncomfortable around him so he never comes fore. He does not complain, but it’s not right. I should have defended him to them. I will insist on it in future.”
“Then perhaps you will assist him in his work more.” Darin looked startled; almost as if he had forgotten the Jaffa was there.
“I will try.” The uncertainty was back. “But Malek is the clever one. I don’t know how much use I can be.”
“You seemed to manage to outwit Surith’s Jaffa most ably, not only breaking me out of my cell, but escaping the palace and recovering the remainder of my tretonin supply as well, and then eluding their ships. Quite a feat of heroic achievement. Although they were amazingly incompetent Jaffa. In fact, I cannot understand how such useless warriors ever captured me. It is most embarrassing. Perhaps I am truly getting old.” In spite of himself, Darin smiled a little.
“They were intentionally bad, it was a ruse.”
“I do believe you are right - you are good with this device. I feel much better already. Now, tell me about this ruse.” Bra’tac listened intently throughout the young Tok’ra’s story; it helped keep the pain from his mind. Darin was young, he realised; very young, compared to himself, and especially compared to the symbiote he carried. Young and unsure of himself. He began to understand why he was content to let Malek speak for both of them most of the time, although it was clear that the symbiote could be a little over-protective of its host. The man had done well.
* * *
Working quietly with the hand device, then, a little later, getting them some food and water, Darin found himself telling Bra’tac the whole story, right from the beginning of their mission. It was easier to talk than to listen to the echoing silence in his head; Malek had no shown no detectable signs of recovery, and the longer they remained this way, the bleaker their chances looked.
“So, let me see if I understand this correctly,” Bra’tac commented, when Darin had at last finished, “You are a Tok’ra pretending to be a Goa’uld pretending to be a Tok’ra. With apparently five different names.”
Four. Jaffa never were too good at mental arithmetic. Darin leapt to his feet with an inarticulate cry of joy.
Malek! Thank Egeria! What happened to you? Do you have ANY idea how worried I’ve been?
Yes. I live here, remember. I am so sorry dear one; it was sheer bad luck. We must have struck the floor at a critical angle and it impacted upon my vertebrae; I’ve been unconscious for some time, but I will be fine. Darin was overwhelmed with a flood of emotions; relief, joy, love…it was impossible to separate his own from Malek’s - except one that came flooding through clearly from his symbiote: pride.
My brave, resourceful Darin, you have done so exceedingly well, as I knew you would. In fact, I believe I may lose my job to you when Garshaw hears about this.
I doubt it. Darin blushed visibly. Malek laughed, clearly, and Darin had to join him.
“I take it all is well?” Bra’tac interrupted them, looking amused, but kindly.
“Yes, yes it is, very well. Malek is fine,” Darin clarified, although it was probably obvious.
If I may? Malek asked permission to speak.
Of course.
“Bra’tac,” Malek inclined his head in greeting, “I am pleased to see that our plan has worked. How are you faring?”
“I will survive; your host is most proficient with that device. Not to mention considerably more personable than you.” Malek chuckled.
“Darin charms everyone.” Then, more seriously, with a slight nod of his head, “We are pleased that we have been able to discharge, at least in part, our debt towards you.” Bra’tac frowned.
“In part?” Malek opened his mouth to reply, but was distracted by the console beeping.
“Ah, we are here,” he announced, satisfied. He switched the controls over to manual and began gliding the tel’tac in over the surface of the deserted planet, towards the stargate. “Now all we need to do is gate somewhere suitable. I would suggest my Tok’ra base, where there is an ample supply of trenonin available, especially since I am well overdue to report in.”
“Would not the nearest rebel Jaffa base be more appropriate? Even now, my Jaffa are likely to be mounting a rescue mission that will needlessly endanger their lives. You can contact the Tok’ra from there. It is secure.”
“On the contrary - wait, the gate is being activated!”
“Perhaps we should hide.” Malek shot the Jaffa an annoyed look for stating the blindingly obvious, but swung the tel’tac in amongst the ample tree cover. The gate swooshed open, and, a moment later, another tel’tac, very similar to their own, nipped speedily through and headed straight into the sky with a flourish.
“Was that…?” Malek asked, although he had got a clear view of the pilot through the viewscreen.
“Teal’c,” Bra’tac added, satisfied.
“With SG-1, by all appearances. They are doubtless in a hurry to rescue you.” Bra’tac looked cross.
“I do not need rescuing by the Tau’ri!”
“Indeed. Let us contact them and persuade them that their mission is unnecessary.” Malek flicked the comms open, giving a Tok’ra passcode in identification, and five anxious faces appeared on the screen.
“Master Bra’tac!” piped up an excited Rya’c. “You are alive!” Bra’tac grinned.
“Indeed.” Rya’c’s face shone with admiration.
“I knew that you would escape from Surith!”
Just ignore us completely then, Malek commented to his host, dryly.
“Actually,” Bra’tac glanced sidelong at them, smiling, “My friends Malek and Darin freed me.” Teal’c couldn’t have looked more surprised had Bra’tac been wearing a dress.
Maybe he won’t try and strangle us anymore, Darin remarked.
“Way to go, Mal,” was Jack’s comment. “So, need some help back there? Bra’tac you look a little the worse for wear, if you don’t mind me saying so, and Mal - well, have you looked in a mirror today?”
“We are fine!” Bra’tac and Malek spoke at once. Carter and Daniel exchanged amused glances.
“We do not need any assistance,” Darin added.
“Perhaps, though, I might travel back with you,” Bra’tac remarked, “I believe I have inconvenienced Malek enough for one day.”
“Sure no problem, more the merrier.”
“We would be honoured.” Teal’c was more solemn.
“So, Mal, what brings you to this part of the neighbourhood anyway?” Jack drawled, curious.
“I have become an opium trader,” Malek supplied, equally droll.
“Resistance work not paying so good these days huh? Nice outfit too: very, er, green. Okay, we’ll fly on back down and pick you up in a few moments.” He cut the connection, and Malek moved the shuttle out from amongst the trees, settling it lightly on the flat ground surrounding the gate, and opened the door. He got up to help Bra’tac to his feet but the stubborn Jaffa was already lifting himself out of his seat. Darin groaned inwardly when he saw their scraped and battered tel’tak.
Garshaw is going to kill me. Malek just laughed. He was in a good mood, having beaten the Tau'ri to it.
Well...do you think she likes opium?
That’s not funny!
“I am still confused by one thing,” Bra’tac remarked, as they watched SG-1’s tel’tak approach. “You said that you had discharged your debt to me only in part.”
“As I recall, you saved our lives twice, and we have only saved yours once.”
“Ah, well, you Tok’ra live confusing lives. Perhaps it is only understandable that you cannot count very well. In fact you have saved me twice.” Malek frowned.
“I do not understand.” For answer, Bra’tac tapped his stomach, where the symbiote pouch was.
“Tretonin,” he said simply, “I understand that we have you to thank for this gift as well, which saved my life when my I lost my symbiote and no other was available.”
“It is nothing,” Malek replied, stiffly, his good mood evaporating like sweat in the desert. Darin took over briefly, sensing his discomfort.
“You must excuse Malek,” he explained, ignoring his symbiote’s grumbled protest, “As you are perhaps aware, our only Queen, Egeria, was the price paid for the tretonin. It is a painful subject for us. It is a loss that will never be overcome.”
“I grieve for your loss,” Bra’tac intoned, formally.
How can he? Malek commented to his host, bitterly. He can have no conception of what that loss means to us. We will fade, our numbers dwindling, until we become extinct, and then all that is Tok’ra will be lost forever.
He has lived with loss all his life Malek, and until recently his people faced extinction with the Goa’uld too, but that did not stop him fighting anymore than us. He is trying to be kind.
I do not require the pity of Jaffa!
Malek, it is not pity. It is kindness, and understanding
“I am glad it has proved useful,” Malek muttered, still not wanting to discuss it, but Bra’tac was obstinate, and persisted.
“It has saved my life, and that of many of my fellow Jaffa, but, more than that, it has given us the possibility of complete freedom from the Goa’uld, and that is a gift beyond price. But I will tell you now, if it had been offered to me as a choice; to have the tretonin or to save Egeria, I should not have taken the drug.” Malek looked at him sharply. There was a warmth in the Jaffa’s eyes, and it was kindness, he realised; kindness, and respect.
“I would not have condemned your people so, anymore than my own. And a Tok’ra larva would have been acceptable to me, and, in time I am sure, to all Jaffa.” Malek nodded. He recognised the generosity of such an offer; one that could not have been easy for the Jaffa.
“I thank you for your words,” he said at last, “And the sentiment behind them. It is unfortunate that it is not to be; sometimes it seems as though the universe is determinedly cruel; but I am glad, at least, that something of lasting good came from her death.” It was the first time he actually felt glad, too, although the grief was still there. Bra’tac smiled at him. Behind him, SG-1 began to emerge from their tel’tac, the other Jaffa running over. Free Jaffa.
“It has always seemed to me that the universe has a way of balancing its books, though not as we may expect it to. I feel sure that you will be rewarded for what you have done, Malek of the Tok’ra.” Bra’tac bowed deeply. “Farewell, my friends. I hope we will have the opportunity to work together again, and that, one day, we shall greet each other in true freedom.” He offered his arm, and Malek clasped it firmly.
“We look forward to that day.”
END
This is a piece I wrote for the Tok'ra resistance group in 2007 (yikes, was it really that long ago?).
Title Balancing the books
Author Ololon
Fandom Stargate SG1
Rating PG (Action/Adventure)
Summary In response to the 2007 Tok’ra Resistance Fic Challenge: "In Allegiance, Malek says he owes Bra'tac his life and hopes one day to repay that debt. How does he do that?" Malek is undercover on a Goa'uld-controlled world when he learns that Bra'tac is being held prisoner there. Can he help the Jaffa without blowing his cover?
Notes Set early season 7. Characters: Malek, Bra’tac, SG1. Italics is host/symbiote communication, or internal thoughts for non-blended individuals. Bold is for emphasis. Spelling is British English. 10,191 words.
* * *
Are you sure you don’t want to take over for a bit? Malek asked his host.
No thank you, Darin replied, mentally shuddering, You know what happened the last time I flew one of these things. Malek sent him a reassuring mental hug, although he was unable to keep the amusement from colouring his thoughts.
Master Garshaw is not as fussy as Per’sus when it comes to scratches on her tel’tak, and besides, you’ve improved since then.
But it was so embarrassing! You fly, Darin insisted, I’ll be too nervous anyway.
Very well, but we’ll be landing soon and then it may be sometime before you can come fore, Malek reminded him gently.
I don’t mind. Malek wasn’t surprised by the answer; nevertheless he was a little disappointed. When they were on a mission it often meant that Darin couldn’t come fore for days, even weeks, at a time, which Malek was uncomfortable with, no matter Darin protested that he didn’t mind. It wasn’t very fair on his host, although unfortunately it was a necessity they both agreed with. There was another issue that bothered him though: despite his best efforts over the past decade that they had been blended, Darin had yet to demonstrate much confidence in his own abilities, and was still somewhat overawed and shy around other Tok’ra; Malek couldn’t help but feel that this was something he should have overcome by now, and that he hadn’t done as well by the man as he should have done.
Malek had met Darin in the course of a mission gone horribly wrong; in fact, in the course of a mission being hastily aborted. He and his previous host, Althea, had been undercover on a Goa’uld world controlled by Kali, gaining intelligence on Jaffa troop movements; a primitive farming world whose only strategic interest was its convenient position to supply the Jaffa armies. The Goa’uld overseer had staged a public execution of some of the local leaders of an organised protest at the cruel working conditions, and this had unexpectedly led to a full-scale rebellion, which was put down with ruthless and bloody efficiency by the Jaffa. He and Althea had decided to leave before Kali herself arrived to terrify her subjects back into submission. They had been escaping through the forest back to the Stargate when they had come across a fleeing family; Althea had argued that they should help them, and, reservations aside, he had agreed. It had proved to be a grave error of judgement; Althea had been fatally wounded as they were trying to shield a young girl, Darin’s sister. Darin, a gangly, terrified youth, more boy than man, had offered to host him in exchange for saving her life. He’d had his doubts, but was hardly in a position to decline. And so had begun their life together.
Darin was a cheerful, good-natured, loyal and gentle man, and Malek had no cause to regret their blending, but Darin was very conscious that he was an ignorant farmhand from a backward planet; as the youngest son of three of a poor family he had held little prospects in life, and he had even thought Malek one of his gods when he’d first blended with him! He’d been too scared and deferent to so much as think his opinion, much less express his wishes, and having his beliefs overturned in such an intimate and abrupt fashion had doubtless also been a shock. It had taken much patient work on Malek’s part to coax him out of his shell. Darin had no particular skills in warfare, counter-insurgency, scientific or other knowledge of his own, all of which Malek possessed in abundance, and Darin considered himself, if not actually stupid, then certainly very much his symbiote’s intellectual inferior. This generally meant that he tended to defer to Malek in most situations; indeed, whenever he could. He was a great contrast to Althea, who had been a confident, fiery and highly independent woman, which also didn’t help: Darin had considered himself an unworthy successor, which was just absurd. Malek had never been convinced by his friend Delek’s opinion that more submissive hosts tended to make for an easier blending; certainly it was not so in his case, although he could understand why Delek might think so. He suspected what made it difficult was when the two personalities were very contrasting, but that could be a strength, once the difficulties were worked out, like Martouf and Lantash, for instance. Nevertheless, he wished Darin could be persuaded to be a little more forthcoming on occasions.
Remembering their initial meeting again gave Malek an idea. How about we go and visit Shiya and the children after this is over? he suggested. It had been a while since Darin had seen his sister and nephews.
I’d like that, his host replied, noticeably brightening, If you don’t mind.
Of course I don’t mind! It’s been too long since we’ve visited. Besides, we deserve a holiday. It’s been a hectic time lately.
It certainly has. Hectic didn’t quite cover it: the past few months had seen a seemingly endless stream of disruption to their lives. Their base had been infiltrated by an Ashrak and betrayed to the System Lords, resulting in the deaths of many Tok’ra and necessitating an emergency evacuation to the Tau’ri Alpha site, unfortunately followed by the Ashrak, who caused chaos amongst the fragile alliance between the Jaffa, Tok’ra and Tau’ri there. Darin had an absolute distrust and hatred of the Jaffa after what they had done to his family and people, and had understandably been on edge the whole time, hiding behind Malek, who wasn’t exactly thrilled at the situation either. Admittedly his behaviour hadn’t been entirely exemplary, but in the end they had prevailed. Oh yes, and he owed his life to a Jaffa, twice over - how utterly galling that was! Then there had come the unlooked-for and swiftly crushed hope when they’d found and lost Egeria in the space of a day, a pain that he still felt. Since then his time had been occupied primarily by adapting the tretonin to make it suitable for the Jaffa; their numbers had been so depleted that the Tok’ra from his former base had been absorbed into other groups, and he had found himself deputised wherever he was needed; an itinerant and worrisome existence. He had only very recently been promoted base commander before the Ashrak incident, and felt the weight of the responsibility keenly.
Now Garshaw had insisted he take a field mission for a change. Perhaps she could see he was getting stressed being cooped up in the tunnels managing things; more likely it was just the fortuitous coincidence that he had worked undercover here before, only this time he had a new host whose face was unknown to the Goa’uld. It was an irritating mission really; he was supposed to be posing as the Goa’uld overseer of several naquadah mines that had previously been under Lord Yu’s control, but would now likely be taken over by Baal. He was there to negotiate the re-supply to Kali instead, thereby distributing some of the power away from Baal. He could see the logic, but he really didn’t like what essentially amounted to giving naquadah to a Goa’uld, even if he knew that one or other of them would get it anyway. Still, all going well, the later plan was to sabotage the supply lines and implicate Baal in the damage, thus sowing more discord between the System Lords. So a dreary few days of negotiating with a nauseating Goa’uld, namely Kali’s representative Surith, and acting like one himself. Wonderful.
And dressing like one, Darin reminded him. Malek winced. He’d forgotten that part. As their destination came into view, Malek piloted the tel’tak in a slow arc over the great stone city, looking for a suitable landing site. It was impressive, but the planet was ancient and the civilisation that had built the city was long gone, destroyed in one of the many Goa’uld skirmishes over territory. Nor did it have a stargate; at least, not any more. Armed Jaffa circled below, clearly anticipating his arrival. Good.
Ready? he asked Darin, straightening the ridiculous high collar.
Ready when you are. They stepped out together, appearing as one.
* * *
“Incoming wormhole sir!” Walter announced, with characteristic gusto. The man clearly never tired of his job, “It’s a Jaffa IDC.”
“Open the iris.” General Hammond and Jack O’Neill watched from the control room as Teal’c hastened down to the gateroom. No sooner had the iris opened than a young Jaffa came hurtling out, almost tumbling down the ramp in his haste.
“Rya’c!” Teal’c exclaimed, rushing to embrace his son, but his smile immediately faded in the face of the boy’s distress. “Father! Father we must leave at once! Master Bra’tac has been captured!” Teal’c at once drew back, shocked.
“How has this come to pass?” he demanded to know. Rya’c was so agitated he could hardly get his words out, “He went to meet with some Jaffa that were loyal to Kali but were coming over to the rebellion! They passed on some information before so we believed them but they betrayed him! We warned him not to go alone and to meet in neutral territory but they claimed they could not get away and he would not listen! We must leave now - we must save him!”
“Calm yourself, my son,” Teal’c said, in tones of absolute reassurance, although the grim set of his jaw offered a glimpse of his own inner distress, “We will not abandon Master Bra’tac, but we can do nothing useful unprepared. Come and make your report to the Tau’ri and we will assess the situation.”
“Yes father,” Rya’c said meekly, recovering himself a little, and followed Teal’c out of the gateroom.
Endure, Bra’tac told himself, over and over again, Endure, and, more prosaically, Breathe! He drew a shuddering suck of damp air down a raw throat, feeling the screaming protest of broken ribs as his lungs expanded. He could not last much longer; they were not being careful in their quest for information. He no longer had a symbiote to sustain him, or repair his injuries. And he was fast running out of the tretonin that substituted for its absence anyway. This he did not mind. He accepted the undoubted disadvantages as an acceptable price to pay for his freedom. As for the torture, he did not mind that either: a Jaffa master could endure mere physical discomfort and he would not bow down to his enemies. Death was inevitable; true, it was a little vexing that it was coming so soon, but he did not fear it. If he had one wish, it would be to live to see his people at last liberated from the Goa’uld, but if he did not, so be it. That day was coming, as surely as the rising of the sun; this he believed with all his being.
And in the meantime, he did not give up, he did not surrender. There was still a chance of rescue. Although he did not wish anyone to attempt such foolishness, he strongly suspected certain headstrong Jaffa would do exactly that. Moreover, he would not reveal any information, and he would not betray his brethren, even if some of them had, alas, betrayed him. He did not blame them for their actions: the habits of both slavery and loyalty, of delusion in false religion, were hard to break. Almost as hard to break as he was, he thought, with a wry, self-satisfied grin to himself in the dark of his cell. Almost, but not quite. It was a telling sign that, whilst there were Jaffa guards on the doors, Surith had assigned only humans to dispense the rations of tretonin they had taken from him, and his torturer was a Goa’uld. Clearly, Kali was not so sure of her Jaffa’s loyalty that she wanted them to know about the tretonin.
He heard footsteps approaching the door; he thought it was about time for another “talk.” Endure, he told himself, as the heavy key turned in the door; Endure.
“Greetings, Lord Surith,” Malek intoned formally, with a slight inclination, when the Jaffa brought him into the main hall. The Goa’uld lounged upon a throne, leg hung over one side, regarding him from hooded eyes. Surith didn’t quite rate the title lord, but it never hurt to pander to a Goa’uld’s ego. Surith’s eyes flashed briefly, almost dully, in tune with a toothy, insincere smile, and he brought his leg back with a rustle of garish green satin.
“Hanite,” he returned, less respectful, “How good of you to come all the way to this…charming little rural retreat of mine.” Oh, somebody was unhappy or at very least bored with their position here, though his posture and voice remained languid; almost strangely so. Not that he could particularly blame him for his disinterest. The planet’s main distinguishing features seemed to be it’s humid jungle and voracious insect life. “You must be fatigued from your long journey, and I, personally, never discuss business after noon. I would be pleased if you would join me for dinner, and then tomorrow morning we can get down to the matter in hand.” Wonderful. Now he to socialise with a nauseating Goa’uld.
“I would be delighted,” he replied.
“Splendid.”
Three hours and some exotic courses later, he finally escaped to his assigned quarters, opening the door onto opulent decadence, and trying not to wince. Well, he wouldn’t be able to see the colours in the dark. Surith was an opium addict, well, an opium aficionado, at any rate; it was always rather difficult to tell with the Goa’uld. Most of them were rather enamoured with sensual entertainments of various descriptions; many of which he’d demonstrated already tonight, but an actual addiction to anything other than the sarcophagus would be quite an impressive feat for a symbiote. It was abundantly clear Surith spent his days doing the minimum required to keep Kali satisfied with his service, and the rest of the time amused himself in more pleasurable pursuits.
Well, so would I, just not in quite the same way, Darin offered, ‘voicing’ his thoughts for the first time since they had got here. By mutual agreement he ordinarily kept silent whilst they were undercover, so as not to risk distraction, but a little communion in the privacy of their quarters did not hurt.
I daresay it will make this a reasonably easy negotiation, Malek returned, pulling his boots off inside the receptacle area. Although it is strange that he appears to lack the raging ambition of most of his kind.
Probably drugged himself out of it.
That, or he schemes endlessly but lacks the ability or the nerve to carry it out. Malek suddenly paused, on guard. He could hear something in the other room, the bedroom. Cautiously, he stepped inside. A pretty trio of scantily dressed slave girls knelt waiting at the end of the bed, heads bowed.
Wonderful, he thought sourly, How generous of our host.
Malek, Darin thought nervously, I know we’re undercover but we can’t! It’s not right! In principle, Malek agreed, although in most instances his Tok’ra pragmatism could justify a lot. Darin had very severe views about certain things however.
“Leave me,” he commanded, as imperiously as he could muster, “I do not require your services.” He did not say why not; Goa’uld did not explain themselves to slaves. At once they rose, bowed to him and left quietly, but one, the youngest, probably, hesitated.
“My lord,” she ventured, in a voice that trembled with fear, bowing as low as she possibly could, “Do we displease you?”
“By no means. I merely require rest and to be alone.” She smiled tentatively, and backed out.
What happened to ‘Goa’uld don’t explain themselves to slaves?’
Well, she was inquiring after our comfort, and she doubtless feared Surith’s wrath. Anyway, it’s true, and we also have a terrible headache after that fug of opium smoke wafting all round the hall.
That and the wine.
He stripped off tiredly, and fell onto the bed, which was so soft it almost swallowed him whole, much to his disgust.
This is going to be a long mission, he thought to Darin, and began working on the headache.
* * *
“General Hammond,” Teal’c stated for about the fifth time since Rya’c had made his report. “We must mount a rescue immediately. Delay merely lowers the chances that Master Bra’tac will still be alive.”
“Teal’c,” General Hammond repeated patiently, but firmly, “I appreciate your position, and I will take your request under advisement, but I can’t send a team on a dangerous mission without good cause or without proper preparation and intelligence.”
“Then I request that I be allowed to leave myself immediately.”
“Hold on a minute T - “ O’Neill started to interject, “We just need more intel, nobody’s suggesting we abandon Bra’tac, are they….are they, General?” Hammond’s mouth creased in a firm line as he sucked in his patience.
“Of course not Teal’c, but neither can we go in ignorant and unprepared. And I would like to know why the rebel Jaffa themselves haven’t sent a rescue.” Frowning, Teal’c glanced at Rya’c.
“We do not have the resources to spare for another two weeks,” the warrior admitted, looking and sounding very much like the young teenager he was, “All our ships are currently in use on other missions, and the planet where we believe he has been taken has no functional stargate.”
“See, that’s some useful information right there,” O’Neill pointed out, helpfully. “Actually, where is this gateless wonder anyway?”
“Kedan,” Teal’c supplied, “It is under the control of a minor Goa’uld lord called Surith, who holds allegiance to Kali, at the edge of her territory. It is a relatively unimportant and poorly defended facility, of little strategic worth to Kali. Surith himself is a decadent and indifferent overlord. A rescue should be relatively easy.”
“We have plans of the palace complex in the capital,” Rya’c added, then admitted, with a guilty look at Teal’c, “Although they are rather old.”
“Plans are good.” O’Neill pointed out.
“Sir, we do have a tel’tak capable of cloaking,” Carter added, calling up a star map of the region. Rya’c excitedly pointed out the location of Kedan. “Well, that’s not too bad, sir. If we gate to P3X569 first, we shouldn’t have to fly far through Goa’uld territory to get there.”
“And, of course, there’s always the fact that Bra’tac is one of the leaders of the rebel Jaffa,” Daniel supplied, “If he were lost it would be a severe blow to the morale of the rebel army; a psychological strike in favour of the System Lords. Rescuing him however would go a long way to raising our credibility as warriors amongst the rebel Jaffa and our worthiness as allies.” Hammond pursed his lips, sighing. He knew when he was being ganged up on.
“All right SG-1,” he conceded.
“We have a go?” O’Neill asked hopefully.
“You put a comprehensive plan on my desk in three hours and then you have a go.” Hammond said sternly, walking out.
“Aw crud!”
Malek retreated to the relative peace and quiet of his quarters, and pulled his boots off rather unsteadily. Easy mission indeed! This was interminable! In addition to never working after noon, Surith apparently never worked before breakfast either, which he took late. In fact, the man basically did about one hour’s worth of anything useful a day, which was making the negotiations drag on relentlessly. The rest of the time he had to endure the Goa’uld’s idea of hospitality; he was almost beginning to think that Surith was lonely ¬- certainly he was bored, and clearly enjoyed having a fellow evil despot to share his pastimes with.
Darin? Malek questioned silently. His unlucky host had to hide all day too.
Whuh? Darin answered muzzily, as though he had only just woken up. Possibly he had. Why are we feeling funny Malek?
Because we’re in a state of chemical intoxication.
Oh. A pause. We’re what?
Doped. Stoned. I’m sorry, I didn’t feel it politic to refuse Surith’s drugs anymore; he was beginning to take it personally.
S’okay. Can we get unstoned now please? I’m not sure I like this.
Working on it. What a long day. Still, I’ve finally talked him round to an equitable agreement. It just remains to sign the deal tomorrow morning.
Thank goodness for that.
You can say that again.. I’m beginning to think this is one of Garshaw’s little jokes. You know what she’s like. Griping to his host, he crossed to the bathroom and splashed some water on their face, failing to notice the new addition to his apartment until Darin drew it to his attention, nervously.
Uh, Malek?
What?
I think we shouldn’t have refused the slave girls again. Malek looked round to see three pretty slave boys wearing naught but a few wisps of silk and a lot of rouge between them, obediently waiting in his bedroom. Inwardly, he allowed himself a heartfelt groan.
Bra’tac was never one to flinch from reality, and the reality now was that he would, in all likelihood, perish on this oppressive swampy planet, and not live to see his people freed. It made him angry; it made him, briefly, despairing, but he was long past the effort such emotions took, and so he merely hung there, suspended from his chains, and told himself, over and over, to endure, to whatever end came to him. They had been more aggressive, more desperate, these past couple of days, which made him suspect that they were working to a deadline; that something was going to happen. Either that or they were running out of tretonin faster than he imagined. Possibly it would be an opportunity for escape; he had tried earlier, of course, but had not been successful. And Teal’c would not abandon him, nor Rya’c for that matter - was there ever such a headstrong boy as that young Jaffa? Actually, now that he thought about it, there was, and it had been Teal’c, not so long ago. It was worth a smile, in the dark of his cell. Time would tell.
Then another thought occurred to him. It was true that Teal’c would certainly come to his rescue - with SG-1. Not that he didn’t respect and like the members of SG-1 - but - to be rescued by humans again! He’d be the laughing stock of all Jaffa! He began renewing his efforts to escape. He was not going to be rescued by the Tau’ri!
* * *
“Ah, my dear Hanite, my boys tell me they were not to your taste either. And yet you seem a gentleman of impeccable taste, it is most curious.” Surith’s tone was contemptuous, if not actively suspicious, and his eyes widened in mock horror. “Please don’t tell me you prefer Jaffa.” Malek had no need to feign his shudder of revulsion.
“Hardly.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat, affecting embarrassment, “If you must know, my Lord is somewhat displeased with me for…overindulging in such pursuits at my last negotiation. I am refraining until his wits get dulled again. Somehow, he always finds out.” Surith roared with laughter.
“A shame. Well, you are always welcome to visit again. It has been a pleasure.” Malek inclined his head, willing him to affix his seal just that little bit faster.
“Likewise. I am pleased that we have managed to conclude our business to our mutual satisfaction. I am sure Kali will also be satisfied.”
“Indeed she will,” Surith agreed, then heaved a melodramatic sigh. “My Lord is not entirely pleased with me either, of late. I confess to having grown a little…slack. If only my other surprise for her had worked out better.”
“Oh?”
“Nothing too grand, just a little gift.” A sidelong glance; Surith was playing coy, but Malek knew he wouldn’t be able to resist gloating. Sure enough, in the next moment the Goa’uld leaned forward excitedly.
“Well, I’m sure I can tell you: my soldiers had the good fortune to capture a leader of that despicable rebel Jaffa army - none less than the Jaffa master Bra’tac himself.”
“Indeed! Quite a prize.” It was only years of training that kept Malek from starting in dismayed surprise.
“Yes. Can you believe the impudent traitor actually thought he could persuade some of my Jaffa to turncoat? Outrageous!”
“Quite. I fail to see how Kali can be displeased with you for this.”
“Oh, it is only that we have so far failed to extract any information from him, and I so hoped to supply her with something useful. Specifically, I know that there is a rebel base somewhere in her territory, but I do not know where. He does, and he inconsiderately will not share this information with me. She’s coming here herself in two days time and as it is the wretched creature may have the bad grace to die before then! And then what use will he be?”
“I had thought Jaffa were supposed to be stronger than that, especially one as formidable as his reputation suggests. Is there a problem with his symbiote?”
Malek…Darin was trying to get his attention, which was inadvisable.
Not now!
“Oh that’s where it gets completely disgusting!” Surith was declaring, waving his hands dramatically. “Apparently - can you believe this? - the shameless rebels would stoop so low as to form common cause with those loathsome Tok’ra - and they have synthesised some sort of chemical substitute, which we are running out of.”
“How revolting,” Malek screwed up his face, “But can you not just give him a new symbiote?”
Malek!
Quiet! He felt Darin flinch; he hated being stern with him but this was not the time.
“We tried that, twice. The first time he somehow managed to rip it out of himself, the second his system rejected it. I’ve never seen anything like it. It’s rather fascinating, in a macabre sort of way.” Surith suddenly brightened, one of his swift mood changes, “But that is not your problem, of course. Forgive me keeping you. I will have you escorted back to your ship.” Malek bowed.
“Thank you.” He took his leave and began to walk off.
Malek, Darin tried again, tentatively, We have to help him. He saved our lives. We can’t just abandon him.
I have no wish to, but I do not know what we can do by ourselves. Even if we succeeded in breaking him out of wherever Surith is keeping him, we would never escape the planet. We would have every Jaffa here on our tails in minutes, and one thing Surith does have, since he has no stargate, is plenty of ships. The best we can do is get help and return. We may even be able to do so before Kali arrives. I promise you we will do everything we can.
Darin was silent then as they walked back to their tel’tac. Malek could tell he was upset; he was upset himself. In truth he knew that even the little they could do would likely prove futile, or too late, and he was under no illusions about persuading other Tok’ra to undertake a rescue mission for a Jaffa: even if they wished to, such direct operations were not their forte. He thought furiously; perhaps they could go to the Tau’ri? Galling, but if they had to…Darin remained silent. I’m sorry, he added, trying to appease him, I truly don’t see what else we can do. No response. Wonderful. Now he’d made Darin retreat into his shell and he would take some coaxing out of it again. He was surprised, then, when Darin spoke up again, albeit in a note of extreme timorousness.
Malek, I…his host trailed off. Malek could feel the waves of insecurity flooding through him.
What? Dear one, please tell me.
I…I have an idea. It’s probably stupid but…He gleaned the gist of the idea from Darin’s uncertain thoughts as they unfolded in his own mind, and almost stopped dead in their tracks.
You want us to pretend to be a Tok’ra? We ARE Tok’ra!
Surith doesn’t know that. Please, Malek, this can work. Malek considered it, but he was highly doubtful; it was not exactly well-planned out.
You don’t have to do this for me, Darin told him gently, I won’t be offended. I know it’s a great risk. He caught then, a trace of Darin’s guilt about Althea’s death, the last time he’d deviated from a mission and taken such a risk. Was that why he didn’t want to try this? No, he was by nature a rational creature: frankly, it was a ridiculous plan, fraught with uncertainty and danger. He had serious doubts as to whether they could pull it off.
It’s all right, Malek, I know I can’t think like you can. Dammit, he’d been thinking out loud again.
Don’t put yourself down like that. It’s a plan that, well, that the Tau’ri would definitely think was a worthy one. He felt Darin’s rising amusement at that, and knew he’d struck the right note. Garshaw is going to be seriously unimpressed though. And then he knew that he’d agreed to it, that they were going to try it.
You can blame me.
Never. We’re in this together. Let’s go. Malek stopped walking.
“Jaffa,” he said to Surith’s First Prime, as imperiously as he could manage, “I require further conversation with your Lord. Return me to him at once.” The Jaffa looked slightly confused, but bowed and led them back the way they had come.
“Hanite, dear Hanite!” Surith declared, positively cackling, “How very novel of you! Let me see if I have this aright: you pretend to be one of these Jaffa’s Tok’ra allies, and ‘rescue’ him from me, and once you have safely ‘escaped’, he inputs the coordinates for his rebel base, which you can then transmit to me. You, my friend, are a true original. And quite possibly mad.” Malek aimed for haughty, which usually worked with Goa’uld.
“Do you doubt that I can do it?”
“I frankly think it rather an unlikely plan, but it’s so delightful we simply must try it. I haven’t had any decent entertainment in such a long time. Besides, he won’t believe any of my Jaffa since they quite rightly turned him in, and it’s not as if it can make the situation any worse even if it doesn’t work.” Surith suddenly turned serious. “Now tell me what Lord Yu gets from this. I am not going to grant you any more concessions on our trade agreement. I simply cannot bear the thought of having it re-drafted.” Neither can I, Malek thought, dryly.
“Who said my Lord was to get anything from this? This is a personal favour from me, to you. In return you could certainly improve the tedium of my service to him, by, say, filling up my tel’tac with some of that fine quality opium you have.” Surith dissolved into laughter.
“Consider it done. Actually, give my Jaffa a little time to stow it out of sight so they are not there when you make your daring escape. Can you pretend to be a Tok’ra actually?” Malek deliberately modulated his voice.
“Surely I just have to talk like this?” Surith narrowed his eyes slyly.
“Not quite, they do possess two distinct personalities. I’ve encountered them before. Nauseating as I understand this must be for you, you must pretend that your host is in control some of the time for it to be convincing.” Surith, Malek reflected, could occasionally muster a certain shrewdness. He decided to play dumb and arrogant.
“Nonsense. Heresy, in fact. Nothing of the host remains.”
“Of course not,” Surith grinned. “Pretend, Hannite. Act!”
Shall I? Darin offered.
No, I am very suspicious of him. We must get this a bit wrong.
“I will try,” Malek said out loud, in Darin’s voice, and contriving to look unconvincingly human, “Erm, how about this: Death to the System Lords!” Surith laughed.
“Well, let’s try it. And we have to get you something hideously drab to wear. Tok’ra have the worse fashion sense in the galaxy, you wouldn’t believe it. They make peasants look classy.” Darin dissolved helplessly into mental giggles at that.
“Please instruct your Jaffa not to actually shoot me,” Malek said, once again ‘Hannite’, and valiantly ignoring Darin’s sniggering, “Or this will be a very short-lived rescue attempt.”
Malek! Darin’s thought was urgent, panicked, almost jolting his concentration as he stealthily ‘infiltrated’ his way into the lower levels of Surith’s palace. Bra’tac will recognise us - what if he gives us away?!
A possibility, Malek admitted, one that he had already considered, But I doubt it. Bra’tac is a professional and a wily old man; he won’t reveal that he knows us unless he is certain that it is safe to do so, I am quite sure.
And this Tok’ra outfit is wrong! He’s going to be very suspicious!
Calm yourself, Malek admonished gently. It will be fine. Surith’s memory I imagine isn’t what it used to be, but this is a fair approximation of jungle camouflage.
We look like we crawled out a swamp!
As I say, jungle camouflage through opium-fugged memory. Hush. Here we go. This is the right cell. He paused just around the corner. This had to look right. Not only was he supposed to be effecting a genuine rescue to ‘fool’ Bra’tac, but he was well aware that Surith was watching. He had to make it look convincing to him too. Or at least semi-convincing. He sighed. When did his life get this complicated? He crept up on the Jaffa, and, after a brief scuffle, pretended to knock them out, took the keys and swung open the heavy door.
It took a brief moment for his eyes to adjust to the gloomy, foul-smelling dungeon, but he could see Master Bra’tac hanging from manacles set high in the damp walls; limp and motionless.
“Jaffa!” Malek called, in a human-sounding, exaggerated stage whisper, and Bra’tac’s head raised fractionally. Deep-set eyes glinted at him. “I am Hannite of the Tok’ra!” he declared, before Bra’tac said anything, deliberately ‘forgetting’ the false name of Shenned that Surith and he had decided upon, then switched his voice back. “And, er, I am Shenned. Also of the Tok’ra. I’m the Goa’uld symbiote.” Surith was probably rolling his eyes at his performance. “I, that is we, have come to rescue you!” Bra’tac was staring at him, quite possibly wondering if either or both (or all three?) of them had gone mad.
“I see,” he said at last.
“Quickly!” Malek urged, releasing the manacles and catching his weight as the Jaffa sagged into his arms. “We must hurry before Surith discovers us! I have a tel’tac hidden in the jungle just south of the city. Can you walk?”
“Of course,” Bra’tac bristled, then promptly fell to his knees the moment Malek let go of his arm. “In a minute. Perhaps with some minor assistance.”
“I’m not carrying you!” Malek protested shrilly, knowing that a real Goa’uld would be aghast at carrying a Jaffa.
“Then we will walk slowly.” Malek handed him a flask of water, which the Jaffa drank greedily, then slung Bra’tac’s arm over his shoulder and hastily exited the dungeon. Bra'tac struggled heroically, and did not complain, but every step had to be an agony for him, and there was no way they could make it all the way back to the tel’tac. Especially as any minute now some ‘hot pursuit’ was coming after them from which they had to narrowly get away.
Surely Surith has some rings somewhere in this damn palace? Darin suggested desperately.
Yes. East wing. Malek recalled, dredging up the floor plans from their earlier guided tour. Although they were rather old. Hopefully the rings were still there.
“Rings!” he said out loud, dragging Bra’tac to the left, “We must make it to the rings!” The Jaffa did not reply; probably he did not have the breath to.
Sure enough, sounds of pursuit started up as the prisoner’s ‘escape’ was ‘discovered’, and Malek tried to get them to walk faster. He hoped Surith’s Jaffa were adjusting to the change in plan.
“You should leave me,” Bra’tac rasped, as the sound of heavy running boots approached, “I am slowing you down, and I am almost out of tretonin anyway.”
“Never!” Malek declared, with a flamboyant wave, whilst thinking to Darin:
Stupid Jaffa! Now is not the time for noble self-sacrifice! A particularly poorly-aimed staff blast struck the wall at their side, and he picked up the pace. They skittered down the corridors, zigzagging, and their pursuit died away.
“We’ve lost them,” Bra’tac murmured, frowning, clearly not believing they could be that stupid. Their luck did not hold out however; they literally ran across another pair of guards at the entry to the east wing, Jaffa that Malek feared had not been briefed on the plan. He knew they shouldn’t have deviated from the agreed route. He zatted one straightaway and thought he got the other, and they ducked round the corner, down some worn stone steps. A staff blast exploded inches behind their feet, and, encumbered by the Jaffa, he tripped and fell down the stones in his attempt to shield him, cracking the back of his head on the hard stone floor.
Darin abruptly found himself in control, befuddled and terrified. Bra’tac was lying on the floor beside him, and Surith’s Jaffa was approaching, aiming his staff weapon. Desperately, he fumbled with the zat; Malek had amazingly kept hold of it even as they fell and he managed to raise it and shoot the Jaffa first. Beside him, Bra’tac was struggling to his feet. He lay sprawled there, petrified.
Malek! Malek answer me! I can’t do this by myself!
“Come!” Now Bra’tac was urging him on, even as he levered himself up against the wall.
“I - ! I can’t!” he cried, “Ma - I mean, Han - I mean - I -“ Malek! Malek! Please! he wailed over and over in his mind, but only a deafening silence met him. He staggered to his feet. Bra’tac was looking as alarmed as he probably allowed himself to look.
“The ring room,” he said, forcefully. With an effort, Darin pulled himself together, struggled to recall their whereabouts in the palace, then, helping Bra’tac, set off determinedly down the stairs, into the east wing. Without Malek’s regulation, the adrenaline was pouring round his system, and his heart was pounding, mind racing, muscles protesting. He could only hope that Malek had merely been knocked unconscious by the fall, and was not seriously injured, or, worse, dead. He had no actual way of knowing. If he were, it would only be a short matter of time before the symbiote poison made its’ way through his system and they both died. Which meant that it was even more imperative that he get Bra’tac to safety as soon as possible. He just somehow had to do it on his own. The fear rose again.
They made it into the ring room and Darin started keying the coordinates in. Suddenly another group of Jaffa poured, so he pulled them both into the rings and activated them just as they started firing; they de-materialised just in the nick of time. He wasn’t even sure whether that particular group of Jaffa were the ones that had been briefed as part of the act or not. That had been all too convincingly close.
“That was lucky!” he declared anyway, unnecessarily, and dragged Bra’tac across to the controls and sat down at the console; a light was blinking and he cursed. Surith’s Jaffa had apparently left the cargo hold door open from where they’d been loading on board all his opium. He made his way to the rear and surprised the Jaffa still loading the opium on - of course, they were early, having used the rings! - and he ducked back round the bulkhead and began aiming zat blasts out the door. He knew this had been going too easy for something that was supposed to be easy. Malek still hadn’t woken up, if he was going to, and it was all his fault. He could see Bra’tac come limping back to help out of the corner of his eye, which he didn’t need. He would see the opium, and Surith surely had a monitor planted somewhere on the ship.
Darin decided that a Goa’uld didn’t really care about the Jaffa outside any more than he did, and aimed his zat blasts a bit more precisely. He knocked out two and the others fell back, then slammed the door shut.
“What is all this stuff?” Bra’tac wondered, approaching him.
“It’s part of my cover!” Darin snapped nervously.
“Cover? You’re a drug dealer?”
“Yes! Now get up front!” Bra’tac gave him a hard look but did as he was told. Darin started up the engines and prepared to launch. He wished he’d got the flying practice in earlier. A few harmless staff blasts grazed the sides of the tel’tac as they lifted into the sky, and he swerved the craft uncertainly. Bra’tac gave him a sharp look, and no wonder; first he was chased by Jaffa that couldn’t shoot straight, now he was being rescued by a Tok’ra who couldn’t fly straight. There was a horrible screeching sound as the trees scraped along the sides of the hull, and he struggled with the controls, willing the ship to lift. A crash on their underneath, and then the jungle was rushing by in a blur of deep green beneath them; brief flash of grey clouds, then blue, blue and out into the deep black of space. Bra’tac sagged, and abruptly passed out, head crashing forward onto the console.
“Bra’tac!” Darin yelled at him, panicked at the thought of being completely alone, “Don’t you die on me!” Then he remembered their listeners. “We need to get to the rebel base! Bra’tac!”
“I’m awake, stop yelling Tok’ra,” the Jaffa growled, blinking and hauling himself upright.
“Take the controls,” Darin urged, although he didn’t want to abandon them. Not that Bra’tac could do any worse. Malek! Now would be a really good time for you to wake up! Still no response. This was looking very bad. Genuinely worried, both for Malek and Bra’tac, he hurried aft to find a hand device and also the remaining meagre supply of tretonin he had. Suddenly, Surith’s own ships screamed into view; too slow, Bra’tac reached for the controls and they lurched heavily starboard, the weapons impacting on their hull: it would have been even worse if they’d been aiming accurately. Then, running forward, he took the controls back from the semi-conscious Jaffa and began flying for his life.
* * *
It was fortunate, Darin reflected, that the Jaffa weren’t really supposed to catch them, because they probably would have if they’d been trying harder. At length though, they lost their pursuit and he was able to relax a little, but only a little. It wouldn’t matter if they coasted in this general direction for a bit whilst they recovered but he had to satisfy Surith, and soon. Things were not good. His mind was echoingly silent, Bra’tac was in very bad shape and there was still the question of how exactly they were going to give Surith the slip for real, before he became too suspicious, or where they could go to that was both close and safe, without betraying their whereabouts. Malek hadn’t had a definitive plan for that part - and neither did he. Well, first things first.
“Here,” he told Bra’tac, handing him the last of the tretonin. “That’s all we could steal from Surith’s supply.” Bra’tac gave him a bleary-eyed look that still managed to be shrewdly assessing.
“Fortunate for me that you managed to steal it from under the eyes of Surith’s exceedingly vigilant Jaffa,” he replied, dryly. Darin looked pointedly towards the cargo hold, then back again.
“We are an exceedingly talented operative.” Bra’tac’s gaze followed his and he nodded slightly.
“So it would seem.” Bra’tac was thoughtful, but the ghost of a smile chased across his features; clearly he was no fool. “Although not a very good pilot.” Darin decided that it was time to give Surith the information he wanted and get out of here. Especially as the Goa’uld was doubtless wondering why he was speaking in the host’s voice continuously now.
“A fair comment. I believe the tel’tac has been damaged, and my symbiote has, a, uh, headache. It would be best for us to find safe haven and medical treatment as soon as possible. I had initially intended we leave this sector, but I think it would be best if we headed for the nearest Jaffa rebel base. I believe there is one nearby but I do not know the location itself.”
“Fortunately I do,” Bra’tac answered, his gaze not leaving Darin’s face as he spoke, “And equally fortunately, I did not reveal it to Surith’s Jaffa, so it is still a secure world.”
“Perhaps you would care to enter the coordinates.” Darin suggested, signalling a definite ‘No’ with his hand, just in case the Jaffa didn’t realise they were being overheard. Surith hadn’t had time to install a complex tracking device on the tel’tac; instead he had just rigged the console to transmit any entered coordinates directly back to his waiting ships. Bra’tac paused.
“Very well,” he said at last, “I am not entirely happy with the plan but it appears that we have lost our pursuit, so I see no real danger of discovery.”
“Good.” Bra’tac reached for the console and began keying in strokes - Darin didn’t know where for, but they were clearly false.
“Inputting coordinates now.” As soon as he had done so, Darin opened up the console and pulled out a crystal, then inputted new coordinates. “I am going for a drink of water,” Bra’tac announced - pointing at Darin’s zat. Darin handed it over silently.
“There appears to be a listening device here!” the Jaffa called from the back. “Surith apparently doesn’t trust you as much as you think. Perhaps we should go elsewhere.”
“No,” Darin called back, “We have revealed nothing. Just destroy it now.” Bra’tac promptly did so then limped back to his chair.
“It will take his ships a few hours to realise they have been made fools of, and by then we should be safe,” he remarked, then fixed Darin with that canny gaze. “Well, now what is going on?”
“It’s a long story,” Darin admitted, tight-lipped, “Let me start healing you first.” He went and got the healing device and affixed it to his palm.
“Would not Malek be better?”
“Actually no, it’s one thing I’ve always been quite good at, and he does badly,” Darin said, sadly, and fell quiet. Malek…he called over and over, trying again, but there was nothing. Nothing at all, and it was all his fault.
As the pain eased a little, and he found that he breathed more easily, Bra’tac became more aware of his surroundings. Possibly he had lapsed into unconsciousness again whilst the Tok’ra had been healing him; he did not know. He glanced at Darin; but his face bespoke of a tense unhappiness, and he feared there was a bad reason for it.
“Have you been injured?” he asked directly. Darin looked startled.
“No, no, I am fine.”
“And Malek?” Darin shot him a tight, distressed look.
“Malek has been unresponsive since we fell down the steps,” he admitted at last, confirming the Jaffa’s suspicions.
“He is unconscious?” Bra’tac was a little surprised to discover how concerned he was.
“I hope that is all it is. I do not know. I have to tell you that if he is seriously injured then I will shortly be in no better state myself. You will have to take over. I have inputted new coordinates. We will fly to the nearest safe planet that has a stargate, a couple of hours away, and then fly through that to get to a Jaffa or Tok’ra base.”
“I understand.” Bra’tac was grave. “What is your name?” Darin took a deep breath, tried to pull himself together.
“I am Darin.”
“You have saved my life, Darin. It is an honour to meet you.”
“We both saved you,” came the muttered reply, “Malek and I. And you met me before.”
“But you did not speak.” Darin ducked his head.
“I am not yet very skilled at missions. I prefer to leave Malek in charge.”
“That does not seem entirely fair.” Darin shot him a suspicious look at that, and he regretted it immediately; he had no wish to imply that the symbiote suppressed it’s host. Once he might have countenanced such a thing of the Tok’ra. Not now. But Darin’s expression saddened again almost immediately.
“It’s not,” he admitted, “I never really realised it before, but it’s not fair on Malek at all. He gets to do all the work, take all the responsibility and make all the difficult decisions, then, because he feels guilty that he has been in charge for so long, he lets me come fore for most of our recreational time. He is of course far more suited to running our missions, and I don’t believe that a human host can ever truly hold the long-term perspective that a symbiote does, but nevertheless I - I should take some more responsibility myself. I should support him more, at least.” Bra’tac made no comment; sometimes only listening was required, and, in truth, he was learning more about the Tok’ra in one conversation than he had in all the rest of his lifetime.
“We decided to go and see my family after this mission was over,” Darin continued, almost to himself, “And if we do, then I’m going to make sure he gets some time. My sister is accepting, but most of my family are very uncomfortable around him so he never comes fore. He does not complain, but it’s not right. I should have defended him to them. I will insist on it in future.”
“Then perhaps you will assist him in his work more.” Darin looked startled; almost as if he had forgotten the Jaffa was there.
“I will try.” The uncertainty was back. “But Malek is the clever one. I don’t know how much use I can be.”
“You seemed to manage to outwit Surith’s Jaffa most ably, not only breaking me out of my cell, but escaping the palace and recovering the remainder of my tretonin supply as well, and then eluding their ships. Quite a feat of heroic achievement. Although they were amazingly incompetent Jaffa. In fact, I cannot understand how such useless warriors ever captured me. It is most embarrassing. Perhaps I am truly getting old.” In spite of himself, Darin smiled a little.
“They were intentionally bad, it was a ruse.”
“I do believe you are right - you are good with this device. I feel much better already. Now, tell me about this ruse.” Bra’tac listened intently throughout the young Tok’ra’s story; it helped keep the pain from his mind. Darin was young, he realised; very young, compared to himself, and especially compared to the symbiote he carried. Young and unsure of himself. He began to understand why he was content to let Malek speak for both of them most of the time, although it was clear that the symbiote could be a little over-protective of its host. The man had done well.
* * *
Working quietly with the hand device, then, a little later, getting them some food and water, Darin found himself telling Bra’tac the whole story, right from the beginning of their mission. It was easier to talk than to listen to the echoing silence in his head; Malek had no shown no detectable signs of recovery, and the longer they remained this way, the bleaker their chances looked.
“So, let me see if I understand this correctly,” Bra’tac commented, when Darin had at last finished, “You are a Tok’ra pretending to be a Goa’uld pretending to be a Tok’ra. With apparently five different names.”
Four. Jaffa never were too good at mental arithmetic. Darin leapt to his feet with an inarticulate cry of joy.
Malek! Thank Egeria! What happened to you? Do you have ANY idea how worried I’ve been?
Yes. I live here, remember. I am so sorry dear one; it was sheer bad luck. We must have struck the floor at a critical angle and it impacted upon my vertebrae; I’ve been unconscious for some time, but I will be fine. Darin was overwhelmed with a flood of emotions; relief, joy, love…it was impossible to separate his own from Malek’s - except one that came flooding through clearly from his symbiote: pride.
My brave, resourceful Darin, you have done so exceedingly well, as I knew you would. In fact, I believe I may lose my job to you when Garshaw hears about this.
I doubt it. Darin blushed visibly. Malek laughed, clearly, and Darin had to join him.
“I take it all is well?” Bra’tac interrupted them, looking amused, but kindly.
“Yes, yes it is, very well. Malek is fine,” Darin clarified, although it was probably obvious.
If I may? Malek asked permission to speak.
Of course.
“Bra’tac,” Malek inclined his head in greeting, “I am pleased to see that our plan has worked. How are you faring?”
“I will survive; your host is most proficient with that device. Not to mention considerably more personable than you.” Malek chuckled.
“Darin charms everyone.” Then, more seriously, with a slight nod of his head, “We are pleased that we have been able to discharge, at least in part, our debt towards you.” Bra’tac frowned.
“In part?” Malek opened his mouth to reply, but was distracted by the console beeping.
“Ah, we are here,” he announced, satisfied. He switched the controls over to manual and began gliding the tel’tac in over the surface of the deserted planet, towards the stargate. “Now all we need to do is gate somewhere suitable. I would suggest my Tok’ra base, where there is an ample supply of trenonin available, especially since I am well overdue to report in.”
“Would not the nearest rebel Jaffa base be more appropriate? Even now, my Jaffa are likely to be mounting a rescue mission that will needlessly endanger their lives. You can contact the Tok’ra from there. It is secure.”
“On the contrary - wait, the gate is being activated!”
“Perhaps we should hide.” Malek shot the Jaffa an annoyed look for stating the blindingly obvious, but swung the tel’tac in amongst the ample tree cover. The gate swooshed open, and, a moment later, another tel’tac, very similar to their own, nipped speedily through and headed straight into the sky with a flourish.
“Was that…?” Malek asked, although he had got a clear view of the pilot through the viewscreen.
“Teal’c,” Bra’tac added, satisfied.
“With SG-1, by all appearances. They are doubtless in a hurry to rescue you.” Bra’tac looked cross.
“I do not need rescuing by the Tau’ri!”
“Indeed. Let us contact them and persuade them that their mission is unnecessary.” Malek flicked the comms open, giving a Tok’ra passcode in identification, and five anxious faces appeared on the screen.
“Master Bra’tac!” piped up an excited Rya’c. “You are alive!” Bra’tac grinned.
“Indeed.” Rya’c’s face shone with admiration.
“I knew that you would escape from Surith!”
Just ignore us completely then, Malek commented to his host, dryly.
“Actually,” Bra’tac glanced sidelong at them, smiling, “My friends Malek and Darin freed me.” Teal’c couldn’t have looked more surprised had Bra’tac been wearing a dress.
Maybe he won’t try and strangle us anymore, Darin remarked.
“Way to go, Mal,” was Jack’s comment. “So, need some help back there? Bra’tac you look a little the worse for wear, if you don’t mind me saying so, and Mal - well, have you looked in a mirror today?”
“We are fine!” Bra’tac and Malek spoke at once. Carter and Daniel exchanged amused glances.
“We do not need any assistance,” Darin added.
“Perhaps, though, I might travel back with you,” Bra’tac remarked, “I believe I have inconvenienced Malek enough for one day.”
“Sure no problem, more the merrier.”
“We would be honoured.” Teal’c was more solemn.
“So, Mal, what brings you to this part of the neighbourhood anyway?” Jack drawled, curious.
“I have become an opium trader,” Malek supplied, equally droll.
“Resistance work not paying so good these days huh? Nice outfit too: very, er, green. Okay, we’ll fly on back down and pick you up in a few moments.” He cut the connection, and Malek moved the shuttle out from amongst the trees, settling it lightly on the flat ground surrounding the gate, and opened the door. He got up to help Bra’tac to his feet but the stubborn Jaffa was already lifting himself out of his seat. Darin groaned inwardly when he saw their scraped and battered tel’tak.
Garshaw is going to kill me. Malek just laughed. He was in a good mood, having beaten the Tau'ri to it.
Well...do you think she likes opium?
That’s not funny!
“I am still confused by one thing,” Bra’tac remarked, as they watched SG-1’s tel’tak approach. “You said that you had discharged your debt to me only in part.”
“As I recall, you saved our lives twice, and we have only saved yours once.”
“Ah, well, you Tok’ra live confusing lives. Perhaps it is only understandable that you cannot count very well. In fact you have saved me twice.” Malek frowned.
“I do not understand.” For answer, Bra’tac tapped his stomach, where the symbiote pouch was.
“Tretonin,” he said simply, “I understand that we have you to thank for this gift as well, which saved my life when my I lost my symbiote and no other was available.”
“It is nothing,” Malek replied, stiffly, his good mood evaporating like sweat in the desert. Darin took over briefly, sensing his discomfort.
“You must excuse Malek,” he explained, ignoring his symbiote’s grumbled protest, “As you are perhaps aware, our only Queen, Egeria, was the price paid for the tretonin. It is a painful subject for us. It is a loss that will never be overcome.”
“I grieve for your loss,” Bra’tac intoned, formally.
How can he? Malek commented to his host, bitterly. He can have no conception of what that loss means to us. We will fade, our numbers dwindling, until we become extinct, and then all that is Tok’ra will be lost forever.
He has lived with loss all his life Malek, and until recently his people faced extinction with the Goa’uld too, but that did not stop him fighting anymore than us. He is trying to be kind.
I do not require the pity of Jaffa!
Malek, it is not pity. It is kindness, and understanding
“I am glad it has proved useful,” Malek muttered, still not wanting to discuss it, but Bra’tac was obstinate, and persisted.
“It has saved my life, and that of many of my fellow Jaffa, but, more than that, it has given us the possibility of complete freedom from the Goa’uld, and that is a gift beyond price. But I will tell you now, if it had been offered to me as a choice; to have the tretonin or to save Egeria, I should not have taken the drug.” Malek looked at him sharply. There was a warmth in the Jaffa’s eyes, and it was kindness, he realised; kindness, and respect.
“I would not have condemned your people so, anymore than my own. And a Tok’ra larva would have been acceptable to me, and, in time I am sure, to all Jaffa.” Malek nodded. He recognised the generosity of such an offer; one that could not have been easy for the Jaffa.
“I thank you for your words,” he said at last, “And the sentiment behind them. It is unfortunate that it is not to be; sometimes it seems as though the universe is determinedly cruel; but I am glad, at least, that something of lasting good came from her death.” It was the first time he actually felt glad, too, although the grief was still there. Bra’tac smiled at him. Behind him, SG-1 began to emerge from their tel’tac, the other Jaffa running over. Free Jaffa.
“It has always seemed to me that the universe has a way of balancing its books, though not as we may expect it to. I feel sure that you will be rewarded for what you have done, Malek of the Tok’ra.” Bra’tac bowed deeply. “Farewell, my friends. I hope we will have the opportunity to work together again, and that, one day, we shall greet each other in true freedom.” He offered his arm, and Malek clasped it firmly.
“We look forward to that day.”
END