It had been two weeks since their arrival on Earth. Two very long, exhausting weeks by Malek's reckoning.

The Tau'ri had finally allowed the Tok'ra to accompany them through the gate in a joint effort to further their search for a new Tok'ra home world. In a way, it was a good thing that the Tau'ri had finally started to include them. It gave the Tok'ra something to do besides sit on their hands and hope for the best, but it was frustrating because the search had proved far more difficult than anyone had ever imagined. There were many abandoned planets, and a few primitive ones, but the council deemed none of them suitable for various reasons. It appeared to Malek that the Tok'ra were stuck on Earth for the foreseeable future. However, there was some good news that had come from the entire mess. Everyone on the base had settled into a holding pattern, and the painstakingly brokered peace between the two opposing sides seemed to be mostly intact with no new incidents.

Malek, despite his many protests, was unanimously voted leader of the Tok'ra refugees several days before. Since then, he had been sitting through briefing after briefing of operatives returning from the search for a new home world and he was beyond tired.

He was sitting in the main briefing room, slumped into a chair, barely taking in a word that was being spoken around him. Jalem, Malek's chosen right hand, was finishing a report on his findings and they were grim. He tossed the data pad containing his recent mission report onto the table and concluded with a discouraged sigh; Malek dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

He was tired, bone weary, and all he wanted to do was crawl into a warm bed and sleep for the rest of eternity. Sensing that such a scenario was not really a viable option, he went in search of food instead.

The people of Earth had a vast variety of refreshments on their base and the personnel ate well at meal times. It was one thing that both Malek and Noah loved about the Tau'ri. Noah had become very fond of the Tau'ri delicacy known as pudding, but only if it was cheesecake flavored, and Malek had to admit that he was partial to the blue Jell-O that Major Carter seemed so fond of herself.

Malek had neglected his stomach that morning and ravenous was a nice way of saying that he had been too long without sustenance, an error which he was all too happy to rectify at the noonday meal. The commissary was packed with Tok'ra and Tau'ri and the smells wafting through the room made Noah's stomach rumbling in long overdue anticipation.

- We're not skipping breakfast anymore - grumbled Noah.

Malek agreed and grabbed a tray and got into line. He filled it with random things and retreated to a corner table where he tried to push Noah fore in order to concentrate on other things, but Noah would have none of it. He hated crowds almost as much as he hated the Goa'uld, and that was saying something.

Sighing, Malek gave up and grabbed his fork. The meatloaf was juicy and delicious, and the mashed potatoes and gravy were perfectly creamy, just the way he liked it. Malek was finished with his meal and halfway through his peach cobbler when he spotted Martouf stalking across the room toward him with a profound frown on his face.

The other man did not sit down when he reached the table. Instead, he leaned over the empty chair and rested his hands on the tabletop.

"Malek," rumbled Lantash, "I need to speak with you."

Malek swallowed his mouthful of cobbler. "Has something happened, Lantash?"

Lantash hesitated, glancing around the room as if searching for eavesdroppers. "No." He said simply.

"Then sit and talk," replied Malek, knowing as he said it that Lantash was not likely to speak to him here. There was something in his eyes, the same something that he had seen there during a recent briefing, and it troubled Malek deeply. To be honest, he had lost sleep over that look and what it could possibly mean.

"Not here," responded Lantash as expected. He straightened and waiting for Malek to stand up and follow him.

Malek looked sadly at the half eaten bowl of peach cobbler. "Can it wait," he asked.

"No."

Something sharp and cold twisted in his stomach and Malek pushed the bowl away. "Fine."

They exited the commissary just as Jacob and Sam were arriving. Sam shot Lantash a questioning look, but he ignored it.

"Where are we going," asked Malek, curious about the exchange, or lack thereof, between Lantash and Sam.

It appeared to the casual observer that Martouf, Lantash, and Sam were growing closer, spending a lot of Sam's off time together as well as working hours. It was rare to find them apart, especially at meal times, and yet, here was Lantash, leading Malek through the corridors and completely ignoring Sam. Something about it wasn't right, but Malek pushed it aside. It was none of his business.

When they arrived at Lantash's quarters, Malek was surprised to see Lantash lock the door behind them. The Tok'ra had never had use for doors and secrecy, but Lantash was obviously taking no chances with whatever it was they were about to discuss. It was a significant action on the part of Lantash and it did not go unnoticed by Malek.

"Sit down, Malek," he said, offering Malek the only available chair in the room.

Malek took it appreciatively and Lantash settled onto the edge of the bed. His brows were furrowed together and he appeared to be deep in conversation with Martouf.

Finally, he spoke. "You've been on the council for a long time, Malek, and we trust you, which is why we are bringing this problem to you instead of some of the other council members."

Malek nodded, already sure he would not like the direction in which this conversation was headed.

"I believe that you already know this, but I think there is a traitor in our ranks."

- Straight to the point then. -

Malek contemplated Lantash's words. He knew for a fact that there was a traitor; it was the only explanation that made sense. Malek had spent days, and most of his nights, trying to decide who the traitor was. Of all the Tok'ra, Lantash was least likely to be a traitor, and Malek had never entertained the idea that he was the one who had betrayed them. Years of serving and fighting beside him had taught Malek that he was trustworthy and devoted wholeheartedly to the cause.

He knew somewhere deep down that he could not describe that he could trust Lantash. "I fear the same."

"Do you have any idea who it could be?"

Malek shook his head. "No. But I do know that it has to be someone in a position of power, someone with access to top secret information."

"Someone on the council?" Asked Lantash quietly, the anger barely disguised in his voice.

"Yes," replied Malek, slowly, "someone on the council would have access."

"But not complete access," pressed Lantash.

"No, not to all the information they would have needed to coordinate an attack such as the one that nearly wiped us out. There are only two people on the council with that much access: Garshaw and Per'sus. I do not believe that either one of them would have betrayed us in such a manner."

"Nor do I," Lantash conceded after a lengthy pause, "that leaves us with only one possibility."

Malek swallowed hard around the tight knot in his throat. "Someone broke into the data pads containing the encrypted files of all of our top secret missions and the locations of all of our bases and shared that information with the Goa'uld. That same someone probably even helped coordinate the attacks."

Lantash looked grim. "But the question remains: who is this traitor."

"And how do we catch him?"

Lantash could not hide his surprise from Malek. "You think he came through the gate with us? That he is still among us? Why would he stay, why not flee back to the Goa'uld knowing that we would assume he was dead, a casualty like so many others."

Malek had given that possibility a lot of thought, but he believed it more likely that the spy had followed them through the gate and was biding his time before he could finish them off. Such a scenario would be devastating. Not only would he completely destroy what was left of the resistance, he would also bring down the SGC with it. The two greatest threats to the System Lords would be wiped out in one fell swoop. It was a daunting prospect and a bleak future that made Malek shudder and kept him awake at night.

"I do not believe that the spy has completed his mission. Many Tok'ra still live and he will not rest until we are all dead."

"You suspect another attack." It was a statement, not a question, and Malek merely nodded.

"Then we must warn the SGC."

"No," said Malek sharply. "The SGC would only make matters worse; they can't keep a secret to save their lives, unless it is one of their own. The spy would find out that we knew about him and no doubt act before we could stop him."

"Which he may yet do anyway," replied Lantash, urging caution.

"We need to do this ourselves, Lantash, and we must move quickly if we are to have any hope of catching the traitor before he kills everyone on this base."

"Samantha can help."

Malek considered that possibility. "Do you think she can be trusted to keep a secret?"

"Of course," said Lantash, slightly indignant.

"Then maybe you should bring her here so that we can discuss our options," countered Malek.

Lantash stood abruptly and crossed to the door without preamble. "I will return shortly."

Malek sank back into the soft cushions of the chair, weary and dispirited as the door clicked shut behind his friend. He rubbed his hands though his hair and exhaled slowly. If his theory was correct, flushing out the traitor might prove difficult. If the turncoat even suspected they were on to him things could get very ugly, very fast, and that was the last thing that Malek wanted. It was no longer just his people's lives hanging in the balance. The entire situation was delicate and had to be handled with the upmost care.

Malek thought of Noelle and Jacob. They were the two people dearest to him and the two people he could not stand to lose. The mere thought of a future without them turned his heart to brittle ice. There had been too many deaths already. Any more were unacceptable losses.

A hot surge of anger rippled through his body. If he ever got his hands on the traitor he would wring his neck for what he had done. Furious, Malek glanced to his lap where his hands were curled into tight fists, nails biting bloody red crescents into the tender flesh of his palms. He slowly flexed his hands, imagining them curling around the soft tissue of the traitors neck and squeezing the life from his body as he watched the light leave his eyes. It was a truly terrible thought but Malek did not feel the least bit remorseful. He would have time to feel guilty later; right now all that mattered was finding the traitor before there was more needless bloodshed. He only hoped that Jacob's daughter could aid them in their search.

He didn't have to wait long to find out. Ten minutes after he left, Lantash returned with Sam in tow. Sam perched on the edge of the bed as Lantash relocked the door behind them and then strode over to stand beside her.

"Martouf told me about your, umm, situation and I'm glad to help anyway I can."

"We need to catch a traitor," said Malek, "but we need to do it without tipping him off that we are searching for him."

"Martouf said that you thought the traitor had somehow hacked into the data pads containing all of the information regarding the locations of secret installations and coordinated the attack from those schematics."

"That is correct," answered Malek.

"How do you plan to expose him?"

Malek had pondered that quandary for so long that his head hurt just to think about it. The truth was that he did not know.

"I am uncertain of our next course of action," he admitted with a frown.

Sam seemed to expect this, no doubt from her conversation with Martouf, and she nodded thoughtfully. "I may have an idea, but I will need to bring a few more people in on this, namely General Hammond, if we are to have any hope of this working out in our favor."

Despite what he had said to Lantash about exposing the traitor themselves, Malek knew that they could not do it alone. Sam was right, but he did not want too many people to know.

"We need to keep this between as few people as possible," he cautioned, knowing that Sam was already off and running in her mind.

"Of course," she replied, "do you still have the data pad with all of the information on it?"

Malek nodded the affirmative.

"I'll need it," said Sam. She hesitated, "and you will need to convince the council that we've downloaded all of the information into our central database for safe keeping. Albeit in a secure file on a secure server."

Malek's eyebrows shot toward the roof, "you cannot do that."

Sam smiled, "of course not, Malek, but we have to make them think that is what we've done. You said yourself that you thought the traitor was a member of the council. If that is true, he will no doubt try to access the information using one of our computers. We'll catch him in the act."

Malek mulled the thought over. Sam had an interesting point, but he still didn't see how they would actually catch the traitor. "How is that going to help? I mean, how are we supposed to catch him hacking into your computer system?"

"Security cameras."

Of course. The entire base was under surveillance. It sounded like a solid plan to Malek and he readily agreed to give it a chance. "Alright. What do you need me to do?"

"Mention transferring the files to our database in the next council meeting. If there is a traitor such an opportunity is bound to shake him loose."

-c-c-c-c-c-c-c-

Malek sat in the security room next to Sam. His eyes hurt from staring at the small screens surrounding them. People moved in and out of the frames with purpose, each person having a legitimate reason for being wherever it was they were. It had been two days and no one had tried to access the nonexistent files on the computer in Sam's lab.

"Maybe the traitor isn't on the council after all," remarked Sam through a yawn.

Malek shook his head. He was willing to stake his name on it, he just wasn't sure if they were going to be able to prove it.

"Well, maybe they're bidding their time, waiting until we've let our guard down before they make their move. I mean, it would make sense since you didn't come straight out and say there was a traitor, just that the files were being moved as a precautionary measure because new information had been added to them. No doubt a guilty conscious could fill in the blanks as to why they were being moved."

As much as Malek hated to agree with her, he knew Sam was right. It could be a long time before the traitor moved against them. Despite his misgivings about an imminent attack, it would make sense for the traitor to lull them into a false sense of security before striking out.

He rubbed his hand across his eyes and let his mind wander toward the infirmary. He knew that Jacob had been hard at work with the hand device again with several of the severely wounded Tok'ra. Sometimes it didn't seem like he was making much progress as some of the wounds were far too sever to be healed by the hand device alone. Malek had tried to heal Noelle but there was so much damage that it was slow going, even with the hand device. For everything that it was, the hand device was not a miracle worker. Some wounds were beyond its capacity to heal completely. Time would have to do the rest.

"Malek!"

Sam's excited voice jolted Malek out of his stupor and he sat up straight. Sam was pointing at a small figure on the screen. He could barely believe it. They weren't going to have to outwait the traitor after all.

"Someone is trying to access the computer files. Let's go."

Sam was up and moving before Malek could react. The figure on the screen had his back to the camera and Malek could not tell who it was. Humming with nervous anticipation, he shot out of his chair and followed Sam out the door. They moved swiftly though the corridor, a small group of armed airmen flanking them as they reached Sam's lab in record time.

Malek crouched beside the closed door as Sam whispered instructions to the soldiers. When she turned to nod to him, Malek steeled himself for the man he was about to face, but when the door opened and Malek stepped across the threshold, zat in hand, he was completely unprepared. The man at the console whirled around, obviously stunned to find himself face to face with an armed contingent of Tau'ri soldiers.

"What is the meaning of this," he demanded incredulously.

Malek stared at the man in stunned disbelief as he scowled in his direction. His mind went completely blank for a moment before he finally found his voice.

"Delek?"

I've had this chapter, and the next one, mostly written for over a month, but I fell sideways into the Avengers fandom and, well, I kinda neglected this story. I'm not at all thrilled with this chapter, I found it difficult to write, but it is what it is. So. I hope it won't be so long between updates next time.