A/N: A chapter of guilt, I assure you. After so long a delay, I must indulge you. Thanks to the very few of you who reviewed: I really appreciate it.
Enjoy!
Queenling: Chapter 2
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Were Kendal in command of her body at the moment, she would have long ago been reduced to fidgeting self-consciously under her new mentor's critical gaze. However, this was not the case. Ser'in stood with an air of almost unnatural stillness, hands clasped politely behind her back and chin lifted ever so slightly. She was not one to be found lacking under scrutiny.
"Well, I have yet to see what she might accomplish with a healing device, but I suppose she'll do," Dauren, who had been silently observing them for quite a few minutes now, finally spoke.
Dauren, or rather, her host, Ezabel, was a slight woman of what appeared to be middle age. She was positively tiny, standing at barely five feet tall, and didn't look like she weighed much of anything at all. (In fact, the somewhat bulky beige uniform she wore dwarfed her.) Her strawberry blonde hair was cropped unusually short and had been slicked back severely, accentuating her thin, sharp features while her skin, very fair, had a look about it like thin parchment. If she looked closely, Kendal could spot the hair-thin wrinkles roamed its surface: no doubt a testimony to the many decades that Ezabel and Dauren had spent together. In all, the Tok'ra appeared to be quite delicate, but her dark eyes snapped with flinty strength, and she moved purposefully, like a prowling dog. Even her voice was unexpectedly rough: certainly an odd combination of traits for a healer to possess.
Martouf, having been the one to escort her to her quarters and then to the infirmary, dipped his head in acknowledgement of Dauren's announcement. "Then it is settled," he pronounced, briefly touching Ser'in's shoulder. "Ser'in, Dauren will be your mentor while you train to become a fully fledged healer. She will be responsible for you in your first few weeks. Welcome to the Tok'ra."
With that, he turned and left. Kendal was a little nervous about this, but Ser'in had expected it. "He must not be seen to favor us," she explained. Not that this made Kendal any happier.
Dauren, surprisingly, relaxed a little as Martouf left, although her arms remained crossed over her chest and her eyes on Ser'in's face. Both Kendal and Ser'in could tell that she was not yet sure quite what to think of them. "So, stasis for two thousand years?" she asked, raising a single skeptical eyebrow.
"Indeed. I wouldn't recommend it," Ser'in replied, relaxing her stance slightly as well.
"Your clothes, are they Tau'ri?" the woman asked.
Glancing down, Ser'in brushed her fingertips over the brown cotton of the dress and twisted her foot in her combat boot. "They incarcerated me for several days until Anise could come and verify that I was a child of Egeria," she explained. Both she and Kendal knew that they would be spending much of their time with Dauren and Ezabel, and Kendal figured that the faster they put her at ease with their presence, the better. Ser'in, of course, agreed. "We made quite a few friends during our time on the planet, though. They gifted Kendal and I with many Tau'ri garments, as recompense. They are a kind hearted people, once you've managed to ease their fears."
Dauren raised her eyebrow once again, and Ser'in belatedly realized that the Tok'ra didn't really care. Small talk, it seemed, wasn't something that she indulged in often, if at all.
"Forgive me: I digress," Ser'in apologized quickly, standing up, if possible, a little straighter. "Shall we begin?"
Dauren pursed her lips and dipped her head, allowing Ezabel control. "We are very accomplished healers, but I must warn you that we have little tolerance for time-wasting or frivolity," the host began immediately. "I'm afraid we're rather jaded."
With a slight smile, she beckoned Ser'in to follow her as they strode through the heart of the infirmary. Just like the tunnels, the infirmary was formed out of the smooth cyan crystal and lit with its cool glow. This was on a much larger scale, however. The main room was large enough for many people to gather comfortably, although only a few were actually present, and three full observation tables had been erected in the space for the more critical patients. The occasional cushion or stool dotted the floor. Branching off from the large room like the spokes of a giant wheel were smaller rooms. Many were private recovery rooms, (Or, as close as one could get to private in a complex without doors: a strange concept to Kendal.) sitting areas, or storage rooms. It was into one of these storage rooms that Ser'in was led.
"Here. Keep this with you," Ezabel instructed, removing a healing device from a small cabinet and holding it out to her. She nodded when Ser'in took it. "When you leave the infirmary, you may place it back into the cubby, but while you are working, it must always be with you."
"I understand," Ser'in agreed.
Ezabel favored her with a tiny smile: the first that Kendal had seen her give. "Good. And Kendal as well?" she inquired.
Taking the opportunity to come to the fore, Kendal too agreed, smiling brightly at her.
Nodding and seeming satisfied, Ezabel strutted into an adjacent, smaller storage room with Kendal toeing after her, curious. Storage boxes were stacked on the shelves very neatly. Gazing upon them, Kendal realized at that moment that everything that she had seen of the Tok'ra base so far was packed and ready to be evacuated at a moment's notice. Even the small living space that Lantash had informed her was to be her own, minimalist as it was, contained only items that were either departure-ready or able to be abandoned.
A small crash and some very creative swearing in multiple languages startled Kendal back into focus, and she swiveled her gaze to Ezabel, who had dropped a small box that she had pulled from a shelf and didn't seem too happy about it. Before Kendal could move to help her pick it up, however, the woman had already gathered it back into her hands, opened it up, and begun checking its contents for damage. Apparently, the box hadn't suffered any permanent maiming. "Here," Ezabel said, pulling plain necklace with a pendant that was a small, transparent sphere about the size of the tip of Kendal's thumb out of its interior before placing the box back onto the shelf. Moving aside the collar of her tunic, the tiny healer revealed that she was wearing an identical necklace. "This is a contact orb," she explained. "You will be expected to report to the infirmary every morning after breakfast, of course, but if there is a medical incident at any point during which you are not in the vicinity, any healer on duty can do this." Moving her hand to her own necklace, Ezabel pressed her fingers forcefully down onto the smooth surface of the sphere, closing her eyes. The necklace that she held in her other fist then burst into a searingly bright blue glow, the light harsh enough to leave little spots in Kendal's vision.
"Don't take it off. Even to sleep," Ezabel warned then, closing her fist over the glow. When she released the contact orb again, it lay in her upturned palm as innocently as it had to begin with. "Healers must be reachable at all hours of the day or night."
She offered the necklace to Kendal, who took it carefully. "I do not look forward to being woken so rudely in the middle of the night by such a bright light," Ser'in commented as Kendal slipped it over her head, pulling her light brown curls out of the way.
"Nor do I, but I understand why it must be so," Kendal confessed to her.
The symbiote gave the mental equivalent of a snort of derision. "That does not mean that I have to like it."
The booming, tri-tonal voice of Dauren unknowingly interrupted their silent conversation. She was pacing back and forth across the narrow space available in the storage room, frowning. "Beginning tomorrow, I expect you to report to the infirmary every morning after you have eaten. You will then work until you are dismissed. After that, you may do as you please with your time, so long as you are ready to perform your duties come morning, or whenever else you might be summoned," the tiny healer informed them. She then paused in her pacing, standing quite still except to tilt her head to one side and consider Kendal and Ser'in with renewed interest. "It is quite rare for any Tok'ra to be selected to be brought into the infirmary as a new healer," she murmured, dark eyes searching Kendal's large blue ones. "I do not know what about you has so charmed Anise and Selmak, but I do this as a favor for them. They insist that you will do well here. I hope they are correct."
With that, Dauren strode purposefully from the storage room: a clear dismissal. Kendal bit her lip, not moving. She hoped that Selmak and Anise were right too.
Not sure what to do with herself, Kendal sat gingerly on the edge of her sleeping platform, taking in the small space that was hers. Well, hers and Ser'in's. Their quarters were nothing more and nothing less than any of the other Tok'ra had at their disposal. A main room and a closet: all she really needed when the latrines, bathing pools, and kitchens were communal. It was furnished simply, with the sleeping platform that she was currently sitting on, a moderately sized trunk at its foot, a set of chairs off to one side, and a small writing desk that doubled as a vanity because of the small mirror perched on a protruding crystal just above it.
After leaving the infirmary, Kendal and Ser'in had returned here and set about settling in to their new home. The blue duffel, which contained everything they had in the world, had been unpacked to their satisfaction. Any item of clothing that needed to be hung up had been placed in the closet. The smaller and folding items Ser'in had wanted to leave inside the bag, which they did, along with their candies. Kendal had insisted, however, on moving their shoes to the floor of the closet. Alejandra had packed the curious little shoes that Sam had called converse as well as two sturdy sets of combat boots, one of which Kendal was already wearing.
All this, of course, hadn't taken very much time.
"Come on, Ser'in," Kendal encouraged her lifemate, who was in control of their body at the moment. "Let us go explore the tunnels."
Nervously, Ser'in wrung her hands. "I don't know if I can do this," she whimpered. "Two thousand years ago, absolutely. But… things have changed. The Tok'ra have changed. They are so hardened: so scarred! The fighting spirit that possessed them at their birth has been ripped away. They're left with only determination, fear, and their own sorrow."
They had only yet met a few individuals in the halls, and only briefly at that, but Kendal was inclined to agree with Ser'in's assessment of them. From Ser'in's memories of those few Tok'ra she had met in person, and from the words of Egeria, they had both expected a race of rebels that was more… rebellious: more willing to help others and far less cold. Still, the woman found it hard to believe that even two thousand years had eaten away the brash Tok'ra spirit. Subdued it, perhaps, but she felt that it was still there. "Remind them of who they are," she finally suggested. "In their suffering, they have forgotten."
"Perhaps you are right, kal'ma," Ser'in admitted after thinking on it a moment.
"I know I am," Kendal refuted smugly.
Ser'in just chuckled aloud, and stifled a yawn. "I get the feeling that these next few weeks will be hard on us," she mentioned, flopping back onto the sleeping platform. "It may behoove us to use this opportunity as one of our last to take a nap."
It was barely past noon, but Kendal hummed her agreement anyways, and not five minutes had passed before both she and Ser'in were lost in shared dreams.
The faces of many nameless Jaffa swam immaterially through Kendal's vision. Some were bowing, some were standing at attention, and some were snarling with battle-rage. Voices, speaking in Goa'uld, were hissing vile things into her ears, and the heart-wrenching cries of humans reverberated about her dream-state like clappers in a bell that wouldn't stop ringing. Kendal could feel it, too. The sensations were muted, as if she were muffled by a pillow, but she could feel the sharp sting of the pain-sticks and ribbon devices: feel the unexpected softness of symbiote skin between her fingers as hands that did not belong to her removed a larval Goa'uld from its Jaffa and thrust it towards its new host. She could feel the rush of savage pleasure as she struck a defiant human girl across the face. She could smell the rancid smell permeating the air in the prison cells like some debasing disease, and feel the sickening thrill of unfamiliar hands roaming a different, unfamiliar body –taste the nish'ta on her own tongue. Kendal didn't quite know what to make of it.
Quite suddenly, the images and sensory input increased in quality. Kendal could see everything with far more clarity now, as well as hear through the hisses of Goa'uld and the screams of the slaves.
Jaffa, again. 'You must run, my lady!' they were yelling in their deep voices. 'Run, and meet Queen Egeria on Kimea. This world is not safe for you any longer!' Blood. Sunlight. The chittering of tree squirrels. A child laughing.
'Daughter, it is good to see you. Mischka as well.' A dark-haired beauty approached and embraced them, and Kendal could see that the skin on the arms she threw around the woman in return was a lovely olive tone. It was most definitely not her skin. 'Mother," she heard herself say.
Suddenly, the woman vanished, only to be replaced by a young man with dirty blonde hair who was passionately kissing her in a way that made Kendal's toes curl. 'Danon,' her voice said. 'Danon, I love you.'
'No more than I love you, Ser'in,' he answered, pinning her up against a wall and roughly taking her there, sending Kendal's pulse racing a mile a minute.
But just as suddenly as he had replaced the dark-haired woman, the woman replaced him. She was far less happy this time though. Her large doe-eyes were spilling over with tears as she held Kendal tightly in her arms. 'I shall never see you again my daughter, and for that I am sorry.'
With a rough cry, Kendal came careening back into the waking world, sitting up straight and feeling the dampness of tears on her cheeks. The dreams had been so powerful that she suspected that they were memories. Ser'in, although more disturbed by the display than Kendal, confirmed this quietly. Kendal knew then that the tears still trickling down her flushed cheeks were not originating from her own distress.
"Hey, are you all right?" a melodic, feminine voice sounded. Turning, Kendal was not surprised to see that a tall female Tok'ra had poked her head inside of the doorframe.
Carefully, Kendal wiped the dampness from her face. "Yes," she answered weakly, still slightly disoriented. Seeing that the Tok'ra didn't appear remotely convinced, she added, "We blended less than a week ago. I'm still getting used to the… to the dreams."
"I am sorry, kal'ma," Ser'in sighed.
"Don't be. It's not your fault."
"I see. The adjustment is harder for some than for others," the woman commented, the host speaking this time as opposed to the symbiote. Her nose was wrinkled with distaste. "I don't think we've met before," she added thoughtfully, narrowing her warm brown eyes. "Ever."
"Yes, well, that's a bit of a lengthy tale to tell," Kendal grumbled, watching as the Tok'ra's curiosity visibly strengthened. "You might as well sit down."
Eying her suspiciously, the Tok'ra did as she asked, perching gingerly on the edge of the sleeping platform and tucking a strand of fiery red hair behind one ear.
"Must we share our 'life's story' with this complete and total stranger?" Ser'in griped in their shared zone of consciousness.
"Yes," Kendal scolded gently. "If we wish for friendship and kindness, we must be the first to extend it." Aloud, she began by introducing herself. "I am Kendal, host to Ser'in," she told the woman.
Her guest dipped her head politely. "Sarah, host to Kairi."
Kendal smiled sweetly. "Pleased to meet you. We are new to this base, and are being trained as healers by Dauren and Ezabel."
Sarah raised her eyebrows. "They never take on trainees."
"We arrived here under some… special circumstances," Kendal admitted sheepishly. "You see, Ser'in is a member of one of Egeria's later clutches. She served as a personal attendant to her for fifty years, but was captured by a system lord—we don't know which—and was placed into a stasis jar to be displayed as a war trophy. Somehow, she was forgotten, until the Tau'ri came to my planet and we discovered her in some ruins."
Sarah's eyes had grown wide. "Truly?" she asked, astonished. With Kendal's nod of confirmation, she sat back onto her hands. "That's… you've beaten some astronomical odds, Ser'in."
At this point, Ser'in chose to make an appearance. "Most definitely," she agreed in her tri-tonal voice, shaking her head. "Imagine my surprise when this little fool opens my stasis jar and practically pokes her nose inside!"
Sarah laughed heartily: a warm, earthy sound. Ser'in herself retained her composure until her visitor's laughter was punctuated by a large snort. After that, there was no containing her and Kendal's giggles.
"Oh, goodness that's a story!" their guest finally hooted, and Kendal noted that it was now Kairi that was speaking. "My Sarah attempted to strike my former host with a frying pan when we first met," she offered, having clearly warmed up to them immediately.
Ser'in grinned. "I like it," she declared.
"So does Sarah," Kairi admitted. "She often laments the occasion as an opportunity wasted to inflict more damage before it meant harming herself as well."
"Potentially problematic," Ser'in agreed.
Kairi ducked her head, and in an instant, Sarah was back in control. "Forgive my intrusion if this is a personal question," she hedged, quite suddenly changing the subject, "but my Kairi never really got the opportunity to interact personally with Egeria, and we're curious. You said that you were a personal attendant. Surely you knew her well?"
Immediately, Ser'in's mood dampened. Kendal, feeling her rising sadness, offered her lifemate a mental 'hug', but couldn't offer much else. "Yes, I knew her fairly well. Not as well as I would have liked, but more than most of our brothers and sisters, I imagine," she muttered, folding her hands in their lap and fixing her gaze upon them. "She was daring and bold, but she was also cunning. And she was kind. She… she was the person I admired most, because she was special and resilient. I was captured before her death, and only heard of it through the Tau'ri, but I know she would have died with honor, no matter how degrading the circumstances."
In response, Sarah only nodded slowly, and silence reigned for a moment as Ser'in relinquished control back to Kendal, the change only evident in the flash of their eyes and the loosening of their posture, for Kendal had adopted Ser'in's solemn mood. Ser'in's memories of her time spent with Egeria, in reality only about five years in total, were filtering through them swiftly in a moment of reminiscence that Kendal wouldn't dream of interrupting or opting out of.
"You're more like her than you give yourself credit for, dear one," she told her lifemate gently.
A spark of gratitude jumped across Ser'in's mind. "Thank you, kal'ma," she returned.
"Kendal, it's nearing time for the evening meal," Sarah pointed out, clearly regretting her question. "If you haven't other plans, would you care to eat with us?"
The offer cheered Kendal, though it didn't have much impact on Ser'in. "We'd be delighted," she responded, producing a small smile.
A/N: Since the story's still new, any and all ideas or suggestions are more than welcome. Do review! :)
