Bra'tac (and Jaffa) Alphabet Soup
icon by samantilles
My thanks to the 23 authors who made Bra'tac (and Jaffa) Alphabet Soup a reality: 11am_street, Aelfgyfu, Beatrice Otter, Cantarina, Fig Newton, GateGremlyn, Iamnomad, JediButtercup, Lolmac, Magistrate, Paian, Random, Rbmi_fan, Rinkafic, Sallymn, Samantilles, Sela21k, Sid, Stringertheory, Thothmes, Traycer, Wendybnyc, and Wonderland. An extra warm welcome to our new cooks, calculusletters, cantarina1, and wendybnyc, and special thanks to Gategremlyn, Thothmes, and Traycer, who wrote backup letters after the last minute for us!
Enjoy some 26,000 words of Bra'tac (and Jaffa) Alphabet Soup! Story lengths range from 200 words to just under 2,600. Ratings range from G to PG-13. Expect spoilers from pre-series through post-series, including canon character deaths.
Story text is as written by the authors, but minor HTML coding has been changed (removal of smart quotes, for example) and scene breaks have been altered to allow for more uniformity in page style.
Shorter ficlets are posted here in full, with links to the author's individual journal for feeback; due to LJ posting constraints, longer fic is excerpted, with links to the author's journal for the full story. The entire anthology is posted in full, without excerpts, over at Dreamwidth.
Readers are strongly encouraged to follow the links to the authors' individual journals and leave feedback.
A is for Ashrak
by draegonhawke
An odd silence plagued the Court of Apophis, stifling even the rumors which would have explained why. Bra'tac had been First Prime long enough to distrust such silences, especially when he was summoned out of one to a secret meeting with his lord.
He entered Apophis's throneroom with, as ever, little idea what to expect. What he saw offered little in the way of explanation: Apophis on his throne, expression repulsed and intrigued, and a figure kneeling before him, so motionless as to seem dead.
"Bra'tac," Apophis greeted as Bra'tac bowed. "How fares the battle on the Line of Cabrakan?"
Bra'tac did not allow his curiosity to show. Curiosity was not a trait the Goa'uld valued in their servants. "Well, my lord. Lord Zipacna shows his loyalty to you thrice over in his attempts to take the seven systems. Your own Jaffa have laid down their lives rather than see you lose a single lightminute of your won space."
"Well that they do so," Apophis said. "And well that Zipacna's aim remains true. It is a matter of loyalty for which I have called you forth."
A deep foreboding grew in Bra'tac's chest, but he allowed none of it to touch his face. Matters of loyalty in the court of Apophis generally went rank in file with executions. "My lord?"
Apophis gestured to the figure before him, and for a moment slipped into the higher tongue of court and Ra. "Monthu, long a thorn in our side, has surrendered to us his territories at last," he said. "To escape our wrath, he has offered us a gift to show his eternal loyalty to our being." Then, once again in lower Goa'uld: "An ashrak."
continued
B is for Bully
by cantarina1
The other children call Bra'tac a smith's son, because that is what he is.
It is not meant kindly.
Bra'tac is too young to have his first prim'ta, a child by the definition of his god and his people, but he understands more than enough to know the shame these sons of warriors bring to those words.
Bra'tac throws himself at them in a rage. He strikes the first blow. He does not fight to protect his father's honour; he fights because he is afraid that they are right.
Later, his mother orders him out of his bloody clothes and takes care to clean his wounds of blood and dirt. Bra'tac squirms impatiently under her ministrations; if he had already received his prim'ta, it
would be so much simpler.
"He makes the lives of our people better," says his mother. She's gentle with him, but the split skin still stings. "There is no shame in that."
But of course she would say that. She is a wife defending her husband. That is her place.
Bra'tac is a smith's son, yes, and expected to learn his father's trade, but there has always been room among Apophis' warriors for any who can prove their ability.
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C is for Courage
A Test of Courage
by traycer_
The test of courage was not an easy one to take on. Bra'tac stood next to his friend as Teal'c waged a valiant struggle to win against the Rite of M'al Sharran, a battle against forces that defeated many before him, and indeed, may still defeat Teal'c. But Bra'tac had his own war with the fear that rose up within his thoughts as he contemplated the fate of his people. Teal'c was strong, he told himself. He will survive this. Teal'c muttered in the silence as Bra'tac tried to stem the fear that rose up within him. His friend had to survive.
Teal'c spoke up at that moment and Bra'tac welcomed the interruption.
"I am dying old man," Teal'c told him in a furious whisper. "You could save me."
Bra'tac knew this to be true. He also knew that Teal'c possessed the strength to win on his own. "You must save yourself," he said. "Only then will you understand the true meaning of life, loyalty and purpose."
"You speak in riddles," Teal'c said with hatred in his eyes.
"You know of this ritual," Bra'tac responded. He had no time for this. Teal'c must live and Bra'tac leaned closer to make sure the Jaffa heard his words. "You must win or we let you die. You are no good to us as a slave to Apophis."
"I am his First Prime," Teal'c said with fierce pride. "I am not a slave."
Bra'tac did not respond. There was no need, for he knew that Teal'c would soon understand the reality of his worth. He watched with a solemn expression as the Jaffa fell back into the memory-filled dreams that would define his fate, then turned away with the intention of retiring to the room he was given, but stopped at the sight of Major Carter.
"Is he dying?" she asked.
There was no point in hiding the truth. "He may not survive."
She stared at him for a moment, then at the bed where Teal'c battled his demons. "It's just so hard," she said quietly.
"It takes a great deal of courage to watch a friend die."
continued
D is for Doubt
by stringertheory
Doubt did not take him all at once.
Doubt and belief lived side by side in Bra'tac for many years before one emerged victorious. His belief was strong, an inheritance and a birthright. Whispered to him in his mother's womb, taught to him from birth, expected of him for life -- his faith in the Goa'uld ran deeper than the deepest naquadah mines. He felt it in every breath, in every heartbeat.
Had he been able to foresee it, Bra'tac would have expected the loss of his belief to be a catastrophic event. It would have rivaled the explosion of a planet or the tearing apart of a ha'tak. Like hot steel struck with a hammer, his belief would have shattered from its own strength. It was a bond he once thought only death would be able to break. Instead, he watched it slip away from him a little at a time, like sand trickling through fingers.
The battle was long and bitter. His belief did not go easily or quietly. But doubt was persistent, and took hold wherever it could.
It stuck to him like a burr under armor, a tiny irritation that grew with every movement, working its way into his skin. It burned there, just beneath the surface, a steady pulse of what if. Every time he stared across a field of battle, every time he received impossible orders, every time he knelt before his lord, doubt itched up and down his spine, a question unvoiced and deadly.
Bra'tac tried to ignore the stirrings of uncertainty, sure that they were signs of weakness. He feared such a weakness would show and strove to hide it under a hardened resolve, a firmer dedication. But it was nothing more than a facade, a lie he told himself. From the time doubt took hold of him, there was no way to make it let go. Doubt was patient. It waited.
continued
E is for Elegance
by beatrice_otter
Bra'tac was in his third decade when he noticed it for the first time. Old enough to have experience; young enough to still be under a master's care, responsible only for his own actions and with no greater cares than survival to distract him. Old enough to understand what was happening beyond his own small corner of the battle, and young enough to be idealistic about it.
That delicate state did not last long, and he later came to realize it was as well he had seen it then, for he could not have earlier and would almost certainly not have later. But when he had seen thirty-four summers, he saw it, and it was the beginning of many things no one could have foreseen.
His lord and God Apophis was attacking Sokar's domain, in retaliation for a battle lost and in hopes of gaining control of the planet which was the main source of a certain rare type of fabric that was very valuable. Bra'tac did not know what the fabric was called, for it was too expensive for Jaffa or for slaves, and besides, it was enough that Apophis wanted it.
There were no ha'tak in orbit, though there were many Jaffa on the surface guarding Sokar's planet and the slaves who produced the fabric. Ha'tak were expensive; Jaffa were not. Apophis' Ha'tak arrived unheralded, surprising Sokar's Jaffa. It landed on a mountain near the main city (where Sokar's own ships no doubt landed) and disgorged its horde of Jaffa, Bra'tac among them.
In full armor, staff in hand, Bra'tac jogged towards the city, where he could see Sokar's Jaffa gathering against them. Above his head, death gliders wheeled and fought, but he paid them no mind. Awe-inspiring they might be--and his master had promised that he would learn how to fly them some day--but they were only a distraction in battle.
Bra'tac knew how the battle would go, for it would be like every other he had fought in, every other he had heard of. Apophis had landed his Jaffa. Sokar's Jaffa came out to meet them, and the two great armies would meet on a field. The stronger army would win.
This was all Bra'tac knew of war, and all his Master had ever said of it. Yet, as he ran towards the enemy Jaffa as he had done many times before, it occurred to Bra'tac that perhaps there might be some better way to fight. After all, he knew well that in a battle between individuals, skill and cunning could be more decisive than size and strength--surely, the same held true in battle between armies? He shook his head. A battle was no time for thinking, not if one wished to survive.
continued
F is for Tal Shakka Mel (I Die Free)
by jedibuttercup
Bra'tac was still smiling when he stood before the Tau'ri Stargate several hours after Daniel Jackson's miraculous return, despite the fact he would be stepping through it alone. Teal'c would follow before long, he knew; his student would not have become bloodkin to all Jaffa if he had not repeatedly placed the freedom of his people over the individual bonds of his heart, but Bra'tac understood his need to rest and reconnect in the aftermath of all that had occurred.
It had been saddening to him as well, to hear Doctor Jackson's report and know that the Kheb of his father's tales was no more: that no further Jaffa who journeyed there would be shown the path through darkness into the next life at the end of their own. That he, himself, would be denied that journey when the time came. Despite all that he had learned about its origins in the years since they had sought the Harcesis child, and despite the way the likes of Imhotep had used its promise to lead many Jaffa astray, it had been symbol and motivation to him for over one hundred and thirty years. It had been the reason his father had believed the Goa'uld were not truly all-powerful, if they feared such a place; and those tales had sown the seeds of his own doubt, and so led to his mentorship of Teal'c.
But it was also very fitting that the circle be closed in such a way: that the mistress of Kheb should be the one to end the greatest threat the Jaffa had ever faced, and help clear the path for the Free Jaffa Nation to survive its difficult birth. Most of them would never know, and fewer still would believe if Bra'tac told them of it, but he knew it to be true. From his father, to Bra'tac, to Teal'c; to SG-1 and the emergence of the Tau'ri as a power to rival the Goa'uld; to the deaths of false god after false god, and the Jaffa at last taking ownership of the sacred ground of Dakara from their would-be masters.
It was a wondrous day to be alive. Perhaps Teal'c was right; now that tretonin had freed the Jaffa from the limitations of their bodies' ability to carry a prim'ta, they were only as old as they believed themselves to be. Perhaps one hundred and forty was not so ancient, after all; perhaps Bra'tac would live long enough to see further marvels equal to the moment he had stood on Dakara and declared that no Jaffa should ever bow before anyone, ever again. Anything seemed possible, now.
The seventh symbol lit, and a ripple of light burst into being in the center of the Chappa'ai, beckoning him home. He was Bra'tac of Chulak no longer: he was Bra'tac of Dakara now, and so too would Teal'c have a place there when he finally left the Tau'ri. So would all Jaffa who chose to inhabit the new city being built there, whether they had participated in the struggle against Anubis or chose not to throw in their lot until the war was already won. All would be welcome. And all would, at last, be free.
continued
G is for George
by samantilles
As soon as O'Neill stepped through the Chappa'ai, Bra'tac knew he was the bearer of bad news. He momentarily forgot himself and feared Teal'c fell in battle, only to see him in the corner of his eye with Ry'ac practicing in the field nearby.
Bra'tac stood up carefully; even with the Tretonin, he was still almost 145 years old, an age very few Jaffa ever saw. He strode to meet O'Neill and offered his hand out in greeting. O'Neill had changed greatly since Bra'tac last saw him. The wearinessthat comes with leadership was taking its toll. "Greetings, my friend."
O'Neill took his hand firmly and gave a half-smile to the Jaffa master. "How's it hangin'?" He would never understand the Tau'ri idiosyncrasies, but Bra'tac readily understood even the oddest phrases Jack O'Neill had to offer.
"The Jaffa Nation grows stronger everyday. With Ba'al no longer in power, the Goa'uld have gone into hiding and every day we come closer to tracking down the last of them. They will not escape us for long." Bra'tac paused for a moment. "But I sense that you have not travelled all this way for a status update?"
O'Neill shook his head. "I need to speak with Teal'c. We need him at the SGC."
"O'Neill." Teal'c's deep stoic voice carried easily through the quiet air as he approached the men.
"Heya, Teal'c." The two shook hands as well. The air between the three men stood silent for moment, and Bra'tac was beginning to fear something dreadful had occurred.
O'Neill finally spoke after several failed attempts to begin the conversation. "Hammond's dead, Teal'c." O'Neill took a deep, rapid breath and stared directly at Teal'c. Bra'tac too stared at Teal'c and at once he recognized the emotion he hadn't before identified in O'Neill--utter anguish. Teal'c nodded somberly. "We haven't figured out the memorial yet, but uh..."
"I will arrive in the morning, once I have attended to that which I must finish here first, O'Neill."
"Great." O'Neill pointed his finger at Teal'c as if it was an acknowledgement as Teal'c bowed quickly and made his way back to Ry'ac. Jack then turned back to Bra'tac. "General Hammond regarded you as perhaps our greatest ally, Bra'tac. The Asgard might have given us technology, but never the true solidarity you've shown us. He told me you were truly our brother in arms."
continued
H is for Humour
by lolmac
" . . . and the Setesh guard's nose . . . drips."
Bra'tac's face is serious, his voice soft and low and intense, but his eyes twinkle in his scarred face as he delivers the final line.
Around him, the small circle of students stirs, the young novice warriors glancing at each other, mostly uncomfortably. Three of them laugh, but nervously, as if they're not quite certain that was the correct answer to a question. Sel'ran and Va'lar simply look puzzled. Prau'at looks perturbed, not quite successful at hiding his shock that Master Bra'tac, their teacher, would stop in the middle of a nighttime patrol on the verge of enemy territory to tell a joke. And such a joke. It's almost disrespectful -- it is disrespectful of Setesh, who is a god, after all, even though he was banished in disgrace, even though he's an enemy of their own god, the dread Lord Apophis.
Teal'c keeps his face impassive, although it's difficult. He has, in fact, heard the joke already, although his mother doesn't know this and would be shocked if she had learned of it. It's not a joke for children. He overheard two warriors telling it, late one night, when they did not know he was awake and listening.
Bra'tac tells it better, or perhaps it makes a difference being able to see his master's face, see the delicate shifts in expression, see the laughter in his eyes. The joke is funny, funnier than he had imagined. Teal'c wants to laugh aloud, to throw back his head and let his laughter echo off the stones of the rough landscape around them. But he doesn't. Bra'tac's voice was soft, going no further than their small group even as he told the joke. This is still a patrol, and they must be wary, even when their teacher tells them jokes.
Even when . . .
Teal'c is aware of the Horus guards before they strike. Part of the troop, he suddenly knows, has been lurking in the trees, waiting while their comrades slip around into flank position. Their presence bulks in his awareness, a distortion in his sense of their surroundings. Teal'c knows when they begin to move, steps and turns smoothly and brings up his staff weapon -- newly-issued, the first one that's his very own. He and Bra'tac are the first to fire.
This is what it is like -- he's seen Bra'tac do this, turn to face a foe before the foe has quite moved into place. This is how it feels, to have that slight, amazing, vast edge over the enemy. His arms and legs are relaxed, his movements flowing and graceful as he fires and pivots and fires again. The skirmish seems unhurried, although it takes only a handful of seconds. The survivors of the enemy patrol retreat in disorder, leaving at least half their force sprawled on the ground.
continued
I is for Ingenuity
by aelfgyfu_mead
The fight was over very quickly; Bra'tac caught the lone guard by surprise, and the two priests were not truly trained to fight (although one of them proved hardier than Bra'tac expected). Then his opponents lay unmoving on the ground.
"Not bad for a man of a hundred thirty-three." Bra'tac could not help smirking at the Tau'ri youth who had been so surprised to learn of his age.
"Not bad at all," O'Neill said. He smiled, though the dark coverings over his eyes kept Bra'tac from seeing how far the smile went. O'Neill sent the younger man to the Gate to prepare their departure.
"What will you do?" the woman asked him. "When the priests come to, they'll tell Apophis that you betrayed them."
A human woman concerned for him? An unexpected warmth tempered Bra'tac's amusement. He had been deceiving Apophis for much longer than she had lived, but he was touched that she worried about a man she had only recently met. Teal'c had won loyalty from the humans quickly. They were either fools or excellent judges of character; Bra'tac could not yet determine which.
"I suppose . . . I will cross that bridge when I come to it."
O'Neill clearly recognized Bra'tac's echo of his own words. The woman smiled more dubiously.
Bra'tac made his farewells to Teal'c. He had had high hopes for his chal'til almost from the start, but Teal'c had surpassed anything Bra'tac could imagine.
The Tau'ri and then Teal'c disappeared through the Stargate. Bra'tac had begun to walk away from the portal, thinking already of how he would "cross that bridge," when he thought better of leaving.
A staff weapon needed a hand on it to fire. Bra'tac repositioned the unconscious guard to point his staff weapon just to the side of the Stargate. He pulled his cloak off, rolled it to make as long a coil of fabric as he could. and then quickly but carefully wrapped it around the guard's hand to be able to trigger the staff weapon from a short distance away. He wished he wore an even longer cloak! The first time, he jostled the guard too hard, and the shot missed him entirely and hit the ground beside him.
The second shot seared into Bra'tac's lower right leg. He welcomed the pain; it would keep him from worse. He quickly disengaged the cloak from the still-unconscious guard. The cloak was dirty and twisted; he pressed it to his bleeding leg, for he could not simply put it back on and pretend that it had been damaged when he fell. The shot had caught him at an angle and not fully cauterized the wound, so he was justified in using it to staunch the trickle from the side of his leg. All physical evidence would support the story he was creating.
continued
J is for Jaffa Food
A Ritual Formality
by sallymn
"I could snap you like kindling..."
And if truth be told, Master Bra'atc thought, snapping the boy would still be as simple as that.
Or, as O'Neill would have it, not.
The non-warrior he had derided on that first encounter had shown himself harder to break than Bra'tac could have imagined at the time. It still amazed him that meeting Teal'c's new allies had shown him, even at the ripe age of one hundred and thirty-three, how much he could still have to learn about other races, other worlds, other people.
And even more so now, after Kheb.
What had happened on that mystical, forbidden planet had changed much. It was not just the weight of years he had felt lift from his shoulders (a young man of eighty, he had told Teal'c? Maybe he should have said a youth of sixty-five, brash and ready for battle) but also for the hope and faith he had come away with. He was not sure why - the strange young 'priest' had spoken in riddles that an old warrior found harder to grasp than he had admitted - but it did have something to do with Teal'c's 'kindling' friend, with him standing, weaponless and barefoot, in front of Apophis's soldiers and coming out of it with all their lives.
The Tau'ri scholar was not for snapping.
Bra'tac adjusted the heavy covered platter he carried as he entered the Stargate. For the first time in more years than he could recall, he felt... what was it? Ah yes, nervous. O'Neill, Major Carter, Hammond of Texas... formidable warriors all, and he had thoughts one day of he and Teal'c, their freedom and battles finally won, sharing with them all. But this was different. He was not sure that any of them would understand, not even Teal'c, who would never have seen this old, venerable, neglected symbolic ritual. But at this moment, after what they had shared, it felt right.
"Tak mal tiak, Master Bra'tac."
Teal'c, along with his warrior brethren, his commander Hammond of Texas, and (to the Jaffa mind) a suspicious number of onlookers, was waiting at the ramp.
"Tak mal tiak, Teal'c, Hammond of Texas." He bent his head in respect to the leader, in acknowledgement to the rest. "I am not this time the bearer of ill tidings."
"No, rather a large... plate?" This was O'Neill, of course.
"I have brought a gift, in recognition of what occurred on Kheb."
"I see," Hammond, who clearly did not see, said politely.
"Do you not have rituals on this world involving the giving of food?"
"Oh yes," and it was of course Doctor Jackson, as inquisitive as he ever was no matter what the moment, who broke in, "pretty much every civilization does, don't they? It seems to be one of the central ways that social groups all over the galaxy operate, one of the most important -"
"Thank you Doctor Jackson," Hammond cut in calmly. "Yes we do, Master Bra'tac. I take it that this," with a nod to the plate, "is just such a tradition on Chulak."
continued
K is for Kheb
by randomfreshink
"... Kheb, a name of Lower Egypt. Kheb...the place of emanation..." G. H. Massey
"It appears the wars passed over this world."
"Indeed. The Ori were not so foolish as to come here."
Throwing back his cloak with one hand, Bra'tac stepped away from the Stargate. He used his staff weapon now more as a staff, less as a weapon, and he had discarded the armor of a Jaffa. But the sun glinted from the close metal skull plates that protected his bald head. He glanced back at his companion, eyes bright, a small smile lifting his mouth.
"They were foolish enough to think this galaxy theirs for the taking." He turned back to the forests around the Stargate. "But this...this is a place of legend still. It is good to see it respected."
Teal'c threw back his own hood, and stepped forward. Like Bra'tac, he carried a staff weapon. His mentor had said it was fitting.
Gesturing to a worn, half-hidden path in the dry grass, Bra'tac started walking. The air smelled sweet with living things--pine, the waving grass, distant flowers. Bra'tac thought he could hear chimes in the distance.
"Do you recall the way?" Teal'c asked.
"Do I...?" Bra'tac straightened. The years hung heavy on him, had deepened the lines on his face, left old wounds aching not just on cold nights. "Let us enjoy our walk."
They reached the temple easily. The woods offered no lurking dangers--no bodies on this visit, no hidden enemies. Forest aspen whispered, leaves brushing in a breeze that did not touch their faces. Twice Bra'tac stopped and looked up, but saw nothing more than trees and leaves. A brook wove its way beside the slim path, which disappeared and reappeared under their sandals. The water moved with them, kept them pointed in the direction that Bra'tac knew to be true. It had been many years, but even if more recent events faded too soon, his memories of his time here remained sharp as his blade.
The temple roof came into view first, then its white walls. It lay nestled still in a small valley, sheltered from strong winds and bad weather. The forest had grown closer, but the walls still stood.
At the gate, Bra'tac leaned his staff against the wall, slipped free of the sandals they had worn for this occasion. Teal'c kept his weapon and Bra'tac glanced at him, lifted an eyebrow. Teal'c lifted one back.
Bra'tac smiled.
His old student had not forgotten his lessons--a wise man respects his friends, a wiser one respects his enemies, too.
Turning, Bra'tac entered the courtyard.
Here, the brook turned with them, winding its way beside the temples. Bra'tac glanced into the water, but he saw nothing--no fish, no light dancing on the shallows, nothing but water softly murmuring.
He stepped forward to the temple, but he stopped outside its doors.
All lay still and orderly--the doors closed, the walls standing and bare. One would never know a great battle had taken place here. Except for the scorch marks on the earth--those remained. And Bra'tac stepped around those spots.
He glanced back once at Teal'c. Teal'c stood with his feet wide, the butt of his staff weapon braced between them. He seemed at ease, but Bra'tac could sense ready tension--some lessons, some habits, never faded.
Turning back, Bra'tac spread his arms wide.
"I no longer harbor evil within. And I am come to the end of my days and would step forward into the next great unknown. I am returned to learn, to shed my days of teaching and begin anew."
continued
L is for Loyalty
Deceptions
by traycer_
It was a battle of wills. Bra'tac knew this, but he also knew with a certainty the victor would be Kronus. Bra'tac watched as Apophis stood his ground in the face of his adversary and waited for the time when he would be needed.
"Jaffa!"
Several Jaffa scrambled at the order, each determined to protect their god with the unfailing loyalty that had been ingrained in them since childhood. Apophis surveyed his Jaffa for a moment, then turned his attention to the enemy that stood before him.
"You dare raise your weapon against me?" he asked in a careful, controlled tone. "I will kill you where you stand."
"You will not succeed," Kronus replied with a haughty smirk. "It is I who will walk away from this meeting."
"Jaffa!" Aphophis said again. Staff weapons were now primed on all sides as the Jaffa that were loyal to Kronus also took up arms to defend their god. They were at an impasse, one that Bra'tac knew would end soon. It was only a matter of time before Apophis or Kronus would turn and run, either through the active Chappai'ai, or through the portal that led to the corridors of the ha'tak. The possibility that one would kill the other was also a strong possibility, one that Bra'tac would relish with a fervor.
It was apparent though, that Apophis believed differently. He glared at his nemesis, then turned to his First Prime.
"Jaffa! Kree!"
Bra'tac bowed in response then with the deftness that came from years of training, he shouted an order to his compatriots as he fired his weapon at the nearest enemy Jaffa, while at the same time, moving to stand in front of Apophis to form a personal shield as was his duty as First Prime.
He fought valiantly, knowing that his own life was at stake. It was imperative that he live to continue his charade of loyalty in order to further the rebellion's cause. He would do whatever it took, even if it meant lying to Apophis.
continued
M is for Master/Mentor
by sela21k
He stood solemnly before the mirror, slowly, carefully dragging the razor sharp knife across his scalp. It had been a long time since he had participated in this ritual but the effect was surprisingly calming. With one last stroke he scraped away the symbol of freedom, the long hair and returned to the person he had always been inside - a Jaffa master.
It had been many years since he had performed this ritual as he no longer needed to wear the silver skull cap as part of his Jaffa armor. He had set the uniform aside, donned the soft robes of civic leadership and finally let his hair grow as he never expected having to go into battle again. It was not for battle but respect that he prepared to dress maybe for the last time in the full flashing armor of a First Prime. He did so to honor the passing of his friend, Hammond of Texas as he had honored the passing of his friend Jacob Carter of the Tok'ra. They had come together as leaders, comrades and finally friends to help mentor the Tauri through to their place in the wider community of the universe. They had taught and guided and spoke truth to the powers of their respective races. When the three of them stood together to speak, none would dare to gainsay them. Today he would be standing alone. He was the last of the three.
Teal'c stood by in respectful silence as if to be witness to his transformation. Bowing slightly he handed his mentor and teacher the precisely folded towel as he had taught him to do so many years before. He had gone through this ritual himself in early darkness of the dawning day day with his son R'yac at his side. They had both come fully dressed in their own Jaffa warrior regalia to help the assist their master with his preparations.
Bra'tac relished the delicious feeling of the roughness of the towel sliding across the clean surface of his head. Perhaps he had given up on this ritual too soon. He nodded at himself in the mirror, a slight satisfied smile on his lips. He would make sure that when he spoke today, they would hear not only his voice but the voices of Hammond of Texas and Jacob Carter of the Tok'ra as well. He was the last of the three and he was ready.
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N is for Next Time
by gategremlyn
From Orpheus:
BRA'TAC
Because you have forgotten that a warrior's true strength comes from his heart and his mind. You have had a physical advantage over me for a long time and yet I have never lost a sparring match to you.
TEAL'C
Because for years, old man, I have let you win.
***
"You let me win?" Bra'tac fingered the gauze strip covering his arm.
"You do not believe this?" Teal'c asked from the bed beside him.
"Because it is not true. We must test this theory."
"Gentleman?" Janet Fraiser, appearing with a warrior's stealth, stood between their beds. "Did I not tell you to rest?"
"We have rested, DoctorFraiser," Teal'c said.
"As you ordered us," Bra'tac added. "But now we are... bored."
"I don't care if you're bored. You are both supposed to rest." She glared from one to the other until they settled into silence. "Better. Now, if you're done bickering, I have other work to do." She stepped away to attend to her other patients.
The two men stared straight ahead after she left. Even warriors of their stripe knew better than to argue with a physician.
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O is for Opportunity
by sg_wonderland
"Master Bra'tac, there is a matter that requires your attention." Teal'c strove to keep his voice even, to bury the flare of anticipation.
"See to your God," Bra'tac instructed the two soldiers before dismissing them. He motioned Teal'c away from the door.
"The latest prisoners? One of them claims that they are from the First World."
Bra'tac's eyes widened. "Are you certain?"
"The one who attempted to speak to Amaunet drew the symbol on the ground."
His breath caught on the cusp of hope. "They have the knowledge to scribe?"
"I believe so. And their leader? He wears this 'technology' as carelessly as one would wear ribbon. I could not identify its purpose."
"Hmmm," Bra'tac pondered.
"Is it time?"
Bra'tac stared at him silently before nodding. "Yes, we act today. The masters go to select new hosts. Try to shield them if possible; we will need both the scribe and the warrior. I will attempt to control the guards. If you see a chance, you must take it, Teal'c."
"If we fail..."
"Then others will rise. But if they are of the First World, we may never see this opportunity again. Go, Teal'c, today we seize this chance."
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P is for Purpose
by wendybnyc
Today, the most astonishing thing happened -- I saw Teal'c show a moment of doubt.
Never could I have imagined such a thing. Even as children, when our fathers were friends, he was so always so sure of himself. All of us were certain, of course, that we would grow to be great warriors, but Teal'c aspired from his earliest days to be a First Prime and none of us questioned that he would indeed. When he became shol'va it was as shocking a betrayal as I could imagine; that he inspired so many others to follow suit, and created an entire Free Jaffa rebellion from sheer force of will, should not have surprised me as much as it did.
On my last day loyal to the goa'uld, I delivered him to Heru'ur to be taught the lesson I thought he so richly deserved. I hoped he could be cured of his delusions and returned to the servitude for which Jaffa are raised and trained. Instead, it was I who was cured of delusions, and infused with a passion for the freedom which Jaffa will in the future see as their birthright.
Through hours of torture, he was unwavering in his resolve that the goa'uld were false gods and he would witness a successful Jaffa rebellion (Heru'ur and Terok died that day); through days of the K'tano mishegas (it's an earther word, they have such vivd language!!) he did not doubt for an instant he would see the Jaffa prevail (Imhotep died that day). Last year at the Alpha Site, when the Jaffa/Tok'ra/Tau'ri alliance almost splintered, he and Master Bra'tac turned the kefluffle into a diplomatic triumph, and in the end the alliance was stronger than ever (the ashrak died that day).
But on Erebus, in Ry'ac and Bra'tac's tent, he expressed doubt in himself. It shook me to the core. It was brief, Bra'tac with only a few words was able to revive his resolve by reminding him of his true strength (OMG! I am so privileged to apprentice to such a formidable trainer!! what? OMG is another earther word. Teal'c's apprentice O'Neill says there's no proper way to pronounce it, it's only to be used in writing). In the end, with the Tau'ri's help, we staged a prison break, destroyed Ba'al's shipyard, killed many of his guards, and best of all I fought shoulder to shoulder with a revitalized Teal'c and the mentor we share. I'm the luckiest Jaffa who ever lived, to be able to serve at the side of such magnificent warriors.
The Jaffa freed from the camp at Erebus are with me now at the Earthers' Alpha Site, eager to join our struggle. The rebellion grows. We will persist, we will endure, and in the end we will prevail.
It will be glorious.
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Q is for Question
by calculusletters
"Ra will protect me," the prisoner claimed. "Your master will not survive this outrage."
It was a lie, Teal'c knew, and the kind that should have cost the man his life. But he held his ground, standing still in the shadows by the door, as his master had commanded.
Bra'tac took a step forward, eyes fixed on the prisoner.
Alone among the System Lords, Ra did not think much of Jaffa, and filled most of his army with humans. This had its advantages, since it freed him from the need to keep queens who could provide him fresh symbiotes, but it meant that his soldiers weaker, without the strength and endurance that a symbiont could give them.
They were also much easier to question.
Bra'tac crossed the dark, cold room in ten slow, silent steps, never breaking the prisoner's gaze for so much as a blink. For the first four steps, the prisoner kept protesting his innocence -- claims about a secret mission, promises that the Supreme System Lord would explain all -- but the pitch of his voice kept rising.
After the fifth step, the pretense collapsed. "You will learn nothing from me" quickly became "I know nothing," which became "Please, they'll kill me."
After the tenth step, Bra'tac stood eye to eye with the man, who had backed up all the way against the wall. He wasn't even bound, but somehow Bra'tac had reduced his cell to the space between their boots.
"Qer'aqa!" he exclaimed, finally, his posture collapsing although he managed to stay standing. "The naquadah mines! She promised -- it was just a few bricks from the quarry! She said the System Lords would never know!"
Bra'tac leaned forward, a fraction of a degree. Still, he did not speak.
The prisoner tried to recoil into the wall. "Qetesh! It was Qetesh! I never saw her, but that's what they said. I swear, that's all I know!"
Teal'c knew better than to speak until they had left the prison cell and the doors had sealed behind them, but he could barely contain herself a second longer. "How can you do that?" he asked.
"One day, you will understand," said Bra'tac. "But there is much else you must learn first."
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R is for Reassessment
by fignewton
Teal'c is not the first chal'ti that Bra'tac trains in both the noble art of war and the more subtle art of rebellion. But he is the first that not only survives, but thrives enough to reach highest rank: the only one, besides Bra'tac himself, who manages to attain the coveted status of First Prime. Bra'tac has great hopes for Teal'c as his partner in spreading quiet dissent and inspiring their fellow Jaffa to seek freedom from the Goa'uld.
So he is disappointed when he learns that, despite his counsel, Teal'c threw away his rank, his power, and his ability to suborn his fellow Jaffa, all for the sake of a few human slaves. There is no great victory over Apophis in the rescue of a motley group of rejected hosts! And now, officially branded shol'va, Teal'c cannot even protect his own wife and son from reprisal. What prompted Teal'c to act so rashly, to abandon the careful plan of decades and openly rebel?
In those first weeks after Teal'c's inexplicable open rebellion, Bra'tac tries to seek consolation in his former pupil's apparent escape from death by vengeance. Still, while he doubts that Apophis would fail to trumpet Teal'c's execution on every planet under his sway, the angry silence from official channels does not reassure him entirely. He uses other sources of information as well: those he has successfully suborned, canny veterans who still appreciate the leadership that assured their survival, awed young Jaffa who leap at the chance to curry favor with a former First Prime. He hears whispers, notes rumors, patiently sorts through half-truths.
The first murmurs of Tau'ri are initially dismissed as a mere child's tale, unworthy of note. Later, when he has a chance to question Shak'l about the debacle that took place in the regular hunt for the secret of true cloaking, he takes the mythological First World more seriously. Still -- humans! He does not use the common Jaffa epithet of slave, as so many do; he is all too bitterly aware that he and his fellow warriors are also enslaved, though most do not know it. But humans! What could possess Teal'c to throw away his every advantage, his wife and child, to first rescue some humans, then consort with them?
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S is for Scrutiny
by gategremlyn
The debriefing over, they stood across from one another in the empty room, two old warriors engaged in a silent battle.
Bra'tac sat. Then General Hammond sat. Neither spoke.
Bra'tac glanced at the men standing in the corners of the room.
"They seek to do you honor, Master Bra'tac," Hammond assured him.
"And to make sure I do not cause dishonor," Bra'tac added with a smile.
"And that," Hammond agreed, smiling as well.
"Hammond of Texas, you are the leader of this planet?"
"No, I'm only the leader of this facility, Stargate Command. The leader of my country is the President, and our planet has many countries with many leaders."
"I see. But you command O'Neill?"
"I do."
"You also command the woman, and the man with the round glass circles?"
"I do. Captain Carter and Doctor Jackson are invaluable to the program. They, Colonel O'Neill, and Teal'c make up SG-1, our flagship team."
Bra'tac considered this and nodded. "You are a leader of good men."
"Yes," Hammond said simply. "The men and women under my command are the best our country has to offer."
"And your title, Hammond of Texas, it is to show respect?"
"It mostly shows that Colonel O'Neill has a rather... unusual sense of humor."
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T is for Tales
by thothmes
Although the Goa'uld guarded their power and control jealously, it took them only a few centuries to learn that it was necessary for their Jaffa to know how to read, write, and perform mathematical calculations, and so, five generations after the Jaffa race was created, Ra insured that the priests and priestesses of his Jaffa knew how to read and write and calculate, and that they in turn would teach this skill to the children of all Jaffa. Soon the other System Lords followed suit, and it didn't take long for at least a minimal education to be universal among the Jaffa.
Given that all Jaffa could read and write, someone like Daniel might have expected that Jaffa knowledge and tradition would have been written down, and passed from generation to generation in archive form. That was not the case. To assume that was to forget that the Jaffa were slaves, with cruel and capricious masters, living lives where anyone could be a spy or a snitch, ready to betray their fellow Jaffa to curry favor with their Goa'uld masters. No, the Jaffa, blessed with exacting and capacious memories, transmitted culture and history through tales. Women spun their stories as they gathered to work, the songs, the stories, and the many hands lightening their loads. The men gathered in tents in the evenings, tired from a long day's battle or exercise, replete with a good meal, snacking desultorily on fruit and dried snacks, drinking their richly spiced drinks, served hot or cold, depending on the season.
Bra'tac could still remember with crystal clarity the first night when he was allowed to follow silently behind his father into the men's tent, to feast with the men and older boys and stay for the storytelling to follow. He knew that he was to keep to his place near the outside walls of the tent, and not to attract notice by wiggling or making noise. If his discipline was not up to the task, chastisement would be administered, and he would not be able to return to the men's tent until his trainers deemed him more ready. He crept quietly to the back of the tent, and sat down among the other boys, the youngest there. He watched the other boys and took his cues from them, and listened to the hum and the rumble of the conversation of the warriors gathered around the brazier in the center of the tent.
When the evening meal was finished and cleared away, the small bowls of dried delicacies and fruit were brought out and scattered within reach of all along with the pitchers of sweet, spicy gra'cheh, and the tale telling began. The first tale, as always, went to Apophis' First Prime, Tenshon, who told a lengthy and intricate tale of how a Jaffa, a valiant but as-yet undistinguished warrior of Apophis, followed the orders of the First Prime despite all difficulty and danger that this entailed, and won through to gain the notice of his superiors, which ultimately led to his becoming First Prime himself. That the young warrior had been Tenshon himself was the twist at the end that surprised no one, not even Bra'tac. He would have been deeply disappointed at the poor quality of the entertainment that he had longed to hear for so long if all the stories had been like that one, but things got better from there. Tenshon, he was to learn later, had not gotten to be First Prime through his gift for storytelling, and his tales were inevitably heavy-handed exhortations to obedience in the ranks.
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U is for Unspoken
by thothmes
Bra'tac had learned from childhood that a warrior used an economy of effort and energy in everything he did, but he had only left the ranks of the chal'tii for a mere day to join the exalted ranks of the warriors when it was brought home to him in a way that he was never to forget that this applied to words as well as deeds. That year's new warriors were all assembled in their ranks before Apophis, that their god might look them over, when Apophis decided to test their loyalty.
Pointing to Bra'tac, the god addressed the warrior to Bra'tac's immediate right, a massive blond fellow who towered over Bra'tac by at least half a head, saying "That one" -- here he pointed to Bra'tac -- "has marked skin, and for a Jaffa he is slight. Kill him."
"But Milord," the fellow blurted out, "That is Bra'tac the fastest and most skilled at-"
Apophis was displeased, and before Bra'tac got a chance to wonder if surviving the pox before he was old enough for a symbiote was going to be the death of him, before his unfortunate neighbor could finish his sentence, Apophis had unleashed the power of his hand device, and the fellow was dead. Apophis stalked off, having proven conclusively that he was a capricious god, and Bra'tac lived, having learned that it was best that some things, indeed all unnecessary things, go unspoken.
***
"Bra'tac!" bellowed the First Prime, his voice sharp and angry. "Why do you lurk in the shadows there? Report!"
Bra'tac had not been lurking, nor was he in the shadows. He had just barely cleared the doorway to the Throne Room, and was proceeding as quickly as he could towards the daĩs where his god lounged. Silently he continued his approach, trying to hide his limp as best he could. It would be a few hours more before his symbiote could heal the staff burn. He reached the area before the first step where the First Prime stood, and, careful not to glance at the exalted figure on the throne, stood at attention.
"Well! Why did you not hasten? What is your report?"
Bra'tac cast his glance to the floor, and ignored the first question. Surely both Apophis and his commander could see that he was hampered by his wound. The second question was the important one.
"We are the victors," he said. "The forces of Ra have retreated, and we hold the planet."
The fact that over half the warriors that had been dispatched to the planet would never return he kept to himself. Over half of fifteen squads. There would be much wailing among the women tonight.
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V is for Voice
by sidlj
There had never been such a thing as a voice of the Jaffa people. The Jaffa peoples were divided and at war with one another throughout their known history. Loyal to this god or that one, and filled with bitter mistrust and scorn for those so misguided as to worship any god which was not one's own.
Even within the ranks of Jaffa loyal to the same god, there was no true voice. The words of a First Prime were listened to with respect or fear, but he spoke only as his lord commanded. In his waning days as First Prime of Apophis, Bra'tac had had questions and misgivings to which he dared not give voice. He saw similar questions sometimes in the eyes of the men he commanded, but their silence was even more certain than his own. He might dream of speaking out; they would never dream of so doing.
As the Free Jaffa gathered and organized and recruited and planned, many individual Jaffa found their voice. They orated and persuaded and argued. They were loud and fierce and proud. A new kind of pride, centered on free choice rather than service to a god. But too many of their voices were silenced in the bloody battles that followed. Their words, their leadership, seemed to pass from memory. In that time of upheaval and rapid change, the tradition of honoring the past was set aside, and fallen heroes were simply fallen.
Now the battles have ended. They have won their victory, and, for the present, peace reigns. It is time to unite -- to create a strong nation that will never again be oppressed, that need fear no enemy nor rely on any ally. Once again, voices rise.
Smooth. Insinuating. Smug. Self-aggrandizing.
The loudest voices of the Jaffa Council are as the voices of braying animals, filled with wind and empty of sense.
So now it is Bra'tac's self-appointed mission, with Teal'c and a few trustworthy others at his side, to ensure that the ultimate, lasting voice of the Jaffa people will be the voice of reason. He is confident that he will succeed.
No matter how many skulls he must crack together in the pursuit of reasonableness, Bra'tac shall, in the end, prevail.
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W is for Wedding
by 11am_street
"Well, perhaps I have chosen poorly as well!"
As he watched both Rya'c and Kar'yn leave the embarkation room furiously, Bra'tac couldn't help letting his comment slip, "I can see why one must rehearse these events." The corner of his mouth curled as a tiny chuckled escaped his lips.
As the Jaffa gathered in the room quietly left, Bra'tac was left alone to collect the items scattered throughout the table. The proud Jaffa rarely permitted his mind to wander, especially in a strange location such as the Tau'ri home world. However as he picked up the circle of fidelity he could not help but think back to another time where he stood facing a bride, ready and waiting for the circlet to be placed on her golden hair.
Sher'ac.
She was one of Bastet's priestesses, tall and fair with golden hair and eyes as fierce as a summer storm. Bra'tac first saw her at a time where Bastet and Apophis had shared a temporary alliance to defeat a common enemy. Bra'tac's gaze had fallen upon her and the rest had fallen in to place. It was not long before he stood before Sher'ac and placed the circle of fidelity on her head. He remembered with mirth as she had frowned and wrinkled her eyebrows in distaste every instant that she knelt before him. He remembered how he had nearly laughed at the sight, in the middle of one of the most sacred Jaffa ceremonies: the joining of a Jaffa warrior and his simka.
Bra'tac smiled as he thought of Sher'ac strength and determination, of how one day, while they walked thought the agora in Chulak, she had spoken of a great day where no Jaffa would need to sacrifice his life for a god. A god, she had begun to feel lest inclined to have faith in. Sher'ac had spoken of her distaste for Bastet's eventual betrayal of the alliance with Apophis and how she had ordered the slaughter of many Jaffa who were allied to her cause. Sher'ac had asked Bra'tac, how could a god who claimed to love her people so callously cast them away without a second glance?
Sher'ac's words remained with Bra'tac a long time. He discussed them vigorously with her until at last they had begun to see the same callousness with Apophis. They noticed too the oppression of the Jaffa and how they were bowed in servitude. These realizations made him think of freedom for many many months.
And when Apophis ordered Sher'ac's execution for treason for speaking against her god, Bra'tac no longer thought of her words. Instead, he vowed to begin planting the seeds of rebellion to one day see them grow. He vowed after her death that he would fight for the freedom of all Jaffa to his dying breath. He never hoped to see the Jaffa gain their freedom, he only hoped he would die knowing his and Sher'ac's dream would not die with him. The following week, he met an ambitious young Jaffa named Teal'c and it was not long before he too began to believe.
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X is for Xenocide
by rbmi-fan
And let it be known that the heathens were given a chance to repent of their ways and acknowledge their true god and did not. Therefore their faces will be forever scoured from the universe. For the glory of Apophis.
Bra'tac's mother smelled of incense and cooking spice. She was strong, and proud, and she believed with all of her heart that Apophis was her god. It was one of the few things she and his father disagreed on.
"The day you were born," she would tell him, "I had a dream. I saw you grown into a man; a skilled warrior. You stood in Apophis' highest favour and he poured blessings down upon our family. I have never doubted this would be so, my son."
Bra'tac never forgot his father's teachings; carefully worded stories that showed the gods as fallible, arrogant and cruel. But sometimes. Sometimes, when the other trainees spoke excitedly of the glorious battles awaiting them. When he stood with his peers and was accepted into the ranks of Aphophis' soldiers and his mother looked on with unconcealed pride. Sometimes, he wanted her to be right.
***
They were a stocky species, with skin a light pink colour that Bra'tac had never seen before and never would again. They guided their children away from the Jaffa and they spoke with caution and reserve. Their city was beautiful; buildings set in stone and marked with colour and patterns. They would trade, they said. But they would not serve and they would not acknowledge Apophis as god.
He told them that refusing meant death. It didn't matter.
For his victory in battle Bra'tac was awarded the title of First Prime. He knelt before Apophis and he did not scream when the gold was seared into his forehead. It was what he'd wanted. It was where he'd do the most good. But as he looked back at the chappa'ai and remembered the bodies he'd stepped over to get there and the satisfaction in Apophis' face when he came back victorious, he remembered his mother's dream. And he wondered who he was truly helping more: his people or the man who sat in his gold throne and pretended to be their god.
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Y is for Years
by paian
Bra'tac strode across the trampled meadow towards the shimmering chappa'ai amidst a rumble of staff weapons butted hard on Chulak's ground in respect. No honor guard, the Jaffa posted here; some of the most able and courageous warriors of this planet, they performed, in deadly earnest, a duty as vital in this strange new era of peace as it had been in the countless generations of war that preceded it. And what better delegation could a returning warrior desire?
No priests. No Priors. Only Jaffa, now, at the gateway to this Jaffa world.
Teal'c stepped through onto the stone platform in a swirl of robes. As ever, Bra'tac's heart soared at the sight of him, pleasure tinged with only a mild dismay at the greying temples, the new lines around mouth and eyes. He knew of Teal'c's entrapment in time on the Tau'ri ship and the price he had paid for saving his comrades and the Asgard's legacy. He had also heard of Teal'c's ordeal on Celestis. Surprisingly, the wear of years and suffering paled in comparison with the ravages wrought on him by the Dar Eshkalon massacre and its aftermath. Imposing and inspiring a figure as ever, he seemed more balanced, more at peace, than Bra'tac had seen him in a great while.
He could not suppress a smile and nod of approval as he moved to meet his onetime prot?g? at the foot of the platform steps. But he sobered as he got a closer view of Teal'c's expression.
For Teal'c, this was the poignant joy of reunion after a long and gruelling campaign, magnified many times over. What had been for Bra'tac a scant -- albeit momentous -- few weeks had been decades for his old friend. Teal'c had tears in his eyes when they gripped each other's arms.
Never had they met this way without another battle on the near horizon. Never had they met this way in a time of peace. Never, in all their lives, had they known a time of peace.
"Tec'ma-te," Teal'c said.
"Tec'ma-te," Bra'tac replied -- greeting him with the honorific in turn, acknowledging Teal'c as equal.
Teal'c's brows lifted almost infinitesimally. He inclined his head, briefly closing his eyes. Bra'tac gave his forearm a bracing shake, his shoulder a hard squeeze, and stepped back.
They turned as one and set off down the road.
"How fare you, old friend?" Teal'c said.
"My armor sits heavy on me now, a councillor's robes heavier still, but in peace and freedom the weight is nothing."
"I bring tidings that may lighten them further."
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Z is for Zat'nik'tel
by rinkafic
As a boy, Bra'tac remembered that his father had been a man of great faith, which he instilled in Bra'tac, encouraging his son to follow him on the warrior's path. His father had carried the Zat'nik'tel with pride and instilled a reverence for the weapons of the gods in Bra'tac.
When he was of age to carry a symbiote within his body, Bra'tac took vows to serve the gods, to follow the commands of the first prime, to give his life if his god Apophis demanded it. As he undertook training with the masters, he firmly believed with all of his heart that he was travelling on the good and righteous path.
On the day that he was deemed skilled enough in his training and worthy of the honor to carry a weapon in service of his god, Bra'tac felt as if the honor might overwhelm him. When his training master held out the Zat'nik'tel to him, laid across his palms like an offering, young Bra'tac felt his heart swell with pride in all that he had accomplished to reach this day.
He took the gleaming weapon into his hands, glad that he did not tremble before his master. He touched the swooping curve of the body, traced the lines that had been artfully carved into it. He did not caress it, for that would be like a sacrilege. The weapon, meant to be an extension of the arm as it delivered the wrath of the god, resembled the form of the god that he served. It was to be a constant reminder as he carried it with him, this power of the god capable of delivering both punishment and death.
One day, Bra'tac would carry a staff weapon and join the others in the ranks of Jaffa serving Apophis. But the Zat'nik'tel and all that it symbolized would hold a place in his heart, a reminder of the vows he had made as a boy. His skill would carry him through the ranks until he became a first prime in his own right.
He did his duty faithfully, believing in his heart in what he did until the day when he came to know the god he followed was false. On that day, he set aside his Zat'nik'tel, because the reminder was no longer a bolster to his faith but rather a reminder of the folly of his youth, when he was blind and believed the lies and did the bidding of the false gods, carried out atrocities in their name. The Zat'nik'tel became a new symbol for him, one that made his heart ache and troubled his soul, for he had broken the vows of his youth.
Bra'tac could never look upon a Zat'nik'tel without a pang of guilt. If there was time for it, his mind would wander; his thoughts would turn to the consequences of breaking a vow made to a false god. If one gave one's word to a liar, was it wrong to break that trust and go back on the promises made? It was a question that troubled him through the years as he took a leading role in destroying the false gods.
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