Awareness crept in like a distant glow - faint at first, but it became clearer and closer with time. Her bouts of actual consciousness were many, since the parasite loved to hear her victim's internalized screams of defiance and anger, and certainly enjoyed the deep-rooted despair which was systematically overtaking any hope that may have previously existed. However, in a glorious moment of suicidal brilliance, Vala managed to wrest control from the snake in her head and expose herself - and, consequently, her Goa'uld master - to their waiting enemies, simply by taking a step outside their holographic cover.
Qetesh's anger burned painfully, searing Vala's consciousness away so thoroughly that she had no concept of how much time passed since she last saw light. It seemed like none and too much at the same time. Logically, the other Goa'uld should have destroyed her, and yet she apparently still lived, unless the afterlife existed as a faint green glow at the very outskirts of her field of vision. If that was the case, well, Vala would have to say that she was disappointed.
Rather than feeling the urgency to make a move while her leech-like captor remained caught up in a stupor, Vala experienced the first peace she had felt in at least a decade. She allowed herself a slow exhalation, savoring the soft 'Hh' sound she produced, as she - of her own free will - blinked her eyes open and saw the world anew on her own terms. She could not sense Qetesh; neither could she feel the pressing weight of the parasite's willpower robbing her of any action she wished to take.
The weight she felt was, instead, a physical one. A metal collar around her neck seemed to be the source of the green light she sensed earlier. The thing was clunky and uncomfortable, and before Vala realized that she was even able to do so, she reached up to try to take it off.
"You may not want to do that."
A hand reached out, cool fingers steadying her gently but firmly as she reeled from the dizziness that came with the ability to move under her own willpower. She could sense the naquadah in his blood.
He asked, "Do you know what I am?"
For a moment, Vala had to play with a few sounds before she remembered how to speak on her own. As her eyes adjusted, she noted that she was sitting with several conservatively-dressed individuals on a small space transport. Everything about the passenger hold was weathered and old, though it seemed to serve its purpose. "You're a Goa'uld."
The man shook his head, smiling. "No, you are with the Tok'ra now."
Thanks to years of imprisonment, Vala could not remember how to properly express joy. Shock came first, of course, as she knew that Qetesh feared this separate race of symbiotes for the fact that they possessed the ability to safely remove a Goa'uld from its host. The process, notably, was safe for the host, but not necessarily for the parasite. Vala would sometimes fantasize, in purposely gory detail, the vivisection and desecration of her captor's physical self. She pictured it often, because it was the one thing Qetesh truly feared. The humiliation and helplessness…
In her relief, she'd completely neglected to express any gratitude at all. Not wanting to seem anything less than ecstatic over the prospect of regaining her life, she threw her arms around the Tok'ra's shoulders and found herself crying into his leather chestplate. It was excessive, but the grey area between excess and moderation didn't do service to the joy she felt. Anything other than giving it her all seemed as if it would have to be construed as being criminal.
"The collar… this thing…" She touched the metal choker again, and the Tok'ra guided her hand away from it once more.
"The Goa'uld calling herself Qetesh is still attached to your neural centers," he said. "This collar allows us to repress her ability to use your body without your permission until—"
"It's still there? Why haven't you removed it?"
"We simply do not have the resources in the field."
"When you do, I want you to tear it apart. Rip it out. Destroy it."
The Tok'ra remained silent, allowing Vala her moment of rage. Eventually, he stated simply, "The symbiote will not survive the process."
It wasn't in Vala's nature to be sullen or brooding, but anyone would feel heaps of resentment over having the best years of their life ripped from them by a parasitic snake. Of course, the thing in her head managed to teach her a lot over the years it controlled her body, and the ability to use her feminine charms to steal her way through the galaxy would certainly come in handy.
"I wish I had this collar like, ten years ago," Vala mumbled.
"It was designed by a people called the Tollan. They do not share their technology freely."
Stolen, then. Vala could certainly understand the need to acquire things, especially priceless artifacts such as the Goa'uld suppression system she currently sported around her neck. Her fingers trailed over the surface of it, and her experience told her that it had been cobbled together in pieces rather than outright liberated from its designers. The edges were rough, the metal unfinished and even sharp in places. Even in its inelegance, though, Vala appreciated the technological expertise that went into adapting the device. Admired it, even.
"I suggest you don't attempt to take it off. Your Goa'uld oppressor is likely waiting for an opportunity to assert herself again. She would rather crash this ship back into the planet and kill us all than allow herself to be removed from her host." The Tok'ra again reached for Vala's hand, and again, she sensed the naquadah within his blood. To her, the very idea that a human would share his consciousness with a slimy parasite was obscene, unnatural, and the expression on her face apparently spoke volumes to her companion. He drew his hand back, resting it on his knee. "The Tok'ra are different from the Goa'uld. We believe that a true symbiotic existence can only be achieved if both parties are allowed their freedom."
"And you allow this man his freedom? To talk for himself?" Vala knew the philosophy of the Tok'ra. After all, they sprouted up in Goa'uld ranks as the proverbial thorns in the side of an entire race. It was difficult to believe that a creature with so much power would allow its host the freedom to live his own life. Perhaps, though, she had lived as a Goa'uld for far too long.
"My name is Arkit. My Tok'ra symbiote's name is Elis. In general, I speak for both of us. Elis is kind, but withdrawn. He prefers to speak very little."
Still unsure, Vala questioned, "So I haven't been talking to the headsnake at all."
Arkit pressed his lips together in response to the epithet, though no other display of annoyance or anger followed. "It is as you say."
Vala did notice that the other Tok'ra in the shuttle were glaring at her - at least, they were until she caught them looking. One by one, they turned away, and she felt the need to explain her phrasing. "Oh, c'mon. Snake shaped. Goes into your brain. It's not an insult!"
Except that it was.
Folding her arms, she settled back in her seat. "There's a lot I'd say to my headsnake now if I could. All she did was… was… dangle carrots in front of me, tried to make me believe I was strong enough to get through her defenses. I mean, I knew I couldn't have, but she also couldn't shut me up, so there was that."
Arkit raised his chin, arching his eyebrows and looking down at Vala. "You'd talk to your captor?"
"Yeah. You've heard the phrase 'rubbing it in…?'"
"Hm," was the Tok'ra's reply. "You can. I can allow the cross-neural interaction. But she will be angry. Her rage alone could render you unconscious again."
Vala felt her lips curling upward, which felt misplaced and foreign on her features. Qetesh did not smile - she sneered, or grimaced, or scowled, but to produce a genuine smile would have been beyond the Goa'uld's capability. Unable to extend the expression to anything pleasant, Vala ended up gritting her teeth against the revelation. "Yeah, it's okay. I want to feel that. I want to feel her helplessness before you kill her."
Arkit looked at one of the other Tok'ra on the ship, who gave consent in the form of a nod. "Now, she won't be able to take over your body again as long as the collar remains on. But you may find your own movements sluggish as she tries. This is normal. All she will be able to do is speak through you." It was the only warning he gave before he pulled his sleeve back and touched a button on a control on his wrist. The green light in the periphery of Vala's vision turned yellow and the symbiote's unrestrained emotion flooded into her consciousness. Immediately, Qetesh grappled for control, but the attempt ended in failure.
Gone was the confidence. And yet the parasite blustered.
"I am your god!"
"How's that working out for you?" Vala responded in the same voice.
«Don't do this to me!»
Startled, Vala nearly jumped out of her seat, and only managed to stay upright thanks to Arkit's steadying hand. It took her a moment to figure out what happened, that the words came from inside her own mind. Previous to her capture, Qetesh enjoyed displaying her power to Vala by nearly always speaking to her using her own voice. Though disconcerting at first, Vala grew used to their conversations. She would venomously imagine every insult she could dream up, and her parasite would smile, look in a mirror, and mock her out loud. This marked the first time the Goa'uld had spoken in thought to her host.
«Why shouldn't I?» Vala replied.
Silence.
«Why?»
Silence.
The nature of their connection had changed, thanks to the collar. Previously, the whole of the Goa'uld's thoughts and feelings were locked away, a mystery to its host, except for the ones it wanted Vala to feel. Whereas before Qetesh exuded confidence and aggression, all she felt now was fear, confusion, and frustration. She tested the wall of her prison, figuratively slamming herself against the steel-strength walls the Tok'ra built around her, but she could find no weakness through which she could break free. The only sentient creature in possession of any control now was the host.
«This is what you did to me for years.
Qetesh continued to maintain her silence, her desperation growing with each passing moment. Yet, at the very core of all that raw emotion sat the tightly-wound remnants of all her pride, her confidence, and even her belief that, in some way, she really had achieved godhood. She thought, maybe, she'd be able to escape this prison and regain control over her people, her possessions, her own damned host!
Millennia of history and genetic memory made the species how they were today. Once upon a time, the first Goa'uld felt fear, shunned the blind, empty existence of life in the swamps and ponds of their homeworld, and stole its first Unas host. It proclaimed itself god. It learned. It reproduced. It ensured that all further generations of its race would carry that fear with them forever, and so instead of forming truly blended relationships with their hosts, they would overtake them, rob them of their free will… And in their constant, creeping terror, would even turn on each other in a bid to dominate first entire planets, and then whole star systems.
«Hey. Parasite.»
But their conquest would never be enough. Secret politics, behind the scenes betrayals, and the very fundamental belief in Goa'uld society that peace could never truly be achieved continued to mold an ever-growing collective memory. Each new brood of writhing, slimy worms birthed from the detestable, bloated queens would mature knowing nothing else but a history of war, and a future of death. Only the most brutal and violent could rise to the top. The others would be culled in their youth. Worse yet, their lives were a race, wherein the earlier an individual started its conquest, the better it might fare in the long run.
And yet, Vala couldn't feel badly at all about the fact that she could never forgive Qetesh for what she'd done.
As if shaking herself gently from her inward thoughts, Vala turned her head just a fraction to one side, her eyes once again meeting Arkit's. It brought her back to the tiny, outdated shuttle, with its faded walls and uneasy, mismatched crew. They still watched her warily, out of the corners of their eyes, sneaking glances now and again to ensure that the hated serpent she carried inside her head hadn't figured out a way to take control.
"Removing this thing. How does it work?" Vala asked.
Arkit's eyebrows pulled downward, causing his expression to become rather severe. Vala could sense the hesitancy to discuss the technology behind the extraction because, after all, she still had a living Goa'uld in her brain. Should something go wrong, and should Qetesh escape, there was always the possibility that she could sell the information in exchange to protection from the others of her kind - System lords who wanted her dead simply for existing. Waving a hand, Vala amended, "I'm more concerned with what happens… After. How you dispose of it."
She caught a glimpse of the critical eyes of the others turning from her to Arkit. He leaned down close and stated, "We tend not to discuss the…" He paused, looking at the others.
So much of the Tok'ra communication happened through body language. It was the same with the Goa'uld, but while the Goa'uld made grandiose, sweeping, purposeful gestures of their own might and superiority, the Tok'ra had much more subtle means of communication. There was no nod from Arkit's crewmates, nor instructional words spoken among them, but as a unit, the other four members of the crew turned in their seats, essentially backing out of the conversation. It was permission, and Arkit's posture relaxed.
"Our council summarizes the crimes of each individual Goa'uld symbiote, and they pay for each one before they are allowed to expire."
Vala continued meeting his gaze, waiting for something more concrete and specific.
"Lesser Goa'uld who have simply taken a host against his will might be thrown out into the sun to bake to death. A ranking Goa'uld such as Qetesh, who executed and tortured millions of people would…"
One of the other Tok'ra shifted almost imperceptibly in her seat, and Arkit abruptly cut himself off. Apparently Vala had heard enough. Her rescuers weren't meant to be seen as violent, vengeful beings, after all. The Tok'ra were supposed to be the good guys. "Yeah, yeah, I get it," she said.
Bad things happened to bad headsnakes.
"Look. Just this once, could you make it quick?"
There was no response from her Tok'ra friend. Instead, for quite a while, she was met with the same silence she received from Qetesh. Finally, one of the others stood and approached the bench seat where Vala and Arkit were seated. She was quite old and her hair was snowy white, unsteady on her feet and clearly nearing the end of her life, yet Vala sensed nothing weak about her. Arkit respectfully stood, and helped this older woman onto the seat. When she was comfortable, she reached out and took Vala's hand.
"My name is Saroosh, host to Selmak. Selmak would like to speak with you."
"Uhm." Vala paused, looking to Arkit for support. All he offered was a tiny nod. "Sure. Sure, okay."
Saroosh bowed her head and closed her eyes. When she looked up again, the old woman's expression had become more serious; when she spoke, it was with the distorted voice of a symbiote using its host's voice. "You speak as one who feels some pity for a being who essentially held the keys to your prison for, from what I understand, a great deal of your life."
"No, it's not really that," Vala said. She rolled her eyes, playing with the ends of her hair as she considered. Maybe it was a sort of pity. Certainly not forgiveness. Eventually, her eyes narrowed as she attempted to put a whole mass of disjointed thoughts together long enough to form something coherent. It had been a long time since she'd actually spoken to another compassionate being; the time disconnected from the world made her feel uncomfortable at the prospect of doing so. "Look, you changed, right?"
Selmak said nothing for awhile, then shook her head. "If you are referring to a conscious decision made by me to become Tok'ra, then no. The queen who spawned me removed much of the Goa'uld's violent past from my genetic memory."
"But It — she? This queen. She made that decision."
"Very few Goa'uld make that decision. If you believe Qetesh is one of them, I believe you are very badly mistaken."
"No, no, I don't think she could. I just… Think that if maybe she'd been exposed to the Tok'ra earlier, she might have been?" The Goa'uld possessed so much fear, so much despair. And within that tightly-wound ball of pride and delusional fantasies of godhood was something greater. Something hidden so well that Qetesh herself possibly didn't even know she possessed the capability to feel it. Vala imagined it was this bright golden color, wrapped in the dark threads of a horrible history. Someone could have found it, but they never did, and now, at the end of this Goa'uld's life, it wouldn't ever be discovered.
"She had this… hope."
Selmak arched her eyebrows. "Hope. Of what?"
Vala shook her head. "I don't know. Just. Hope."
The old Tok'ra's eyes glazed over with tears that remained unshed. "The Tok'ra queen was lost to us many centuries ago. But she once told her first children that it was hope that led her to abandon the violent ways of her peers and seek peace with our hosts."
Looking at her feet, Vala shook her head. "It's too late for mine."
Selmak said, "I know."
"Can you just make it quick?"
"Yes. we can."
Arkit helped the old woman to her feet again, and guided her back to her seat closer to the front of the small shuttle. Vala leaned back in her chair. There wasn't anything else to be said about the matter, except that she would finally be free, and she'd never hear from Qetesh again. Indeed, she was glad that the Goa'uld parasite would die, and felt no guilt regarding its fate. But she also felt good about the fact that it wouldn't be tortured.
Finally, it spoke.
«I value you,» it said.
Which was as close to a kind word as Vala had ever heard from Qetesh. Appropriately, it was also the last thing it said, despite the fact that the collar remained yellow for the rest of the flight to the Tok'ra outpost.
Perhaps it was enough to redeem her.