The sign read, "Blessed Dance Estate." Yes, this was it. This was Ashasti's residence.
The sign was a discrete brass plaque next to a white door in a vine-covered wall. Above the sign were the controls for a holographic intercom.
Jamora took a deep breath. She had decided her best bet was to keep her story simple and close to the truth. Since Ashasti and Neralo were Charitists, Jamora was hoping Neralo would take a generous attitude toward her rather impertinent request.
She rang the intercom. A holographic window opened in the door, revealing a male wearing a Black Collar and Black Pendant. She announced herself and asked to speak to Neralo. After a moment, Neralo's face appeared in the window, looking a little puzzled.
"Hello, Neralo!" said Jamora, with strained brightness. "Do you remember me? I'm one of Ashasti's colleagues."
"Of course I remember, Jamora. What can I do for you?"
"Forgive me for coming by unannounced, but I happened to be walking along this path and saw the sign and realized this is Ashasti's house, and, well… I know this is an imposition, but there's something that's really been bothering me and I was hoping you could help. I realize I should just call Ashasti about it, but I forgot my data-wristlet today," she said, holding up her bare forearm, "and I would very much like to just get this matter resolved. It's really weighing on my mind. Could I possibly have a few moments of your time?" Jamora gave him a nervous smile, letting her embarrassed desperation show.
Neralo's expression became sympathetic. "Think nothing of it. I'll be down to open the door for you myself."
The holographic window blinked out, and Jamora felt a wave of mingled relief and apprehension. Hopefully, she would be meeting Smoke's companion soon. And then she would know for certain whether she was really the Ashoran she thought she was – or someone else entirely. A woman from a patriarchal world! Her stomach was doing somersaults.
After a few moments, the white door opened. Neralo greeted her with a smile and waved her in. She nervously followed him through a small courtyard and into the house. A short corridor led to the airy openness of a three-story atrium. It was decorated in the modern style, with curvilinear furniture and animated wall patterns. One whole wall was transparent, revealing a large inner courtyard. Neralo led her toward a conversation area with a central fireplace.
"Please," he said, "make yourself comfortable. Can I get you something to drink?"
"No, thank you," said Jamora, seating herself on a curved couch. She gave Neralo another nervous smile. "Hopefully, this won't take long."
Neralo seated himself across from her. "How can I help you?" he asked.
Jamora bit her lip. "I'm afraid this is a little awkward. You see, it's about my new concubine. When I worked with Ashasti at the Bureau of Liberation, our team evaluated two males who were captured together, and obviously knew each other. I Claimed one of them as my concubine, while Ashasti Claimed the other."
A shadow passed over Neralo's face. "Yes," he said, his voice colorless.
Is he jealous? thought Jamora. Redeemed males weren't supposed to get jealous, but Neralo struck her as unusually assertive for an Ashoran male. She had planned to make him feel worried about Ashasti's concubine. If he were jealous, too, all the better. She was hoping to prompt Neralo to act on his own, without involving Ashasti. If he called Ashasti at work, he would surely ask Jamora to speak to her as well. And that would put Jamora on the communications grid. There was something inside her, some innate sense of caution, that warned her against that. It somehow seemed important to elude the conspiracy's surveillance. Though you don't even know if the conspiracy really exists, she reminded herself.
Jamora looked Neralo in the eye and began spinning her story. "My concubine has told me some things that I find very disturbing. I'm not sure how much to believe him – you know how wild males lie. But some of what he told me involves his companion. If you would be willing to ask this other male some questions for me, it would help me figure out if my concubine is lying." Jamora gave him a pleading look. "I know it's impolite of me to ask, but if what he says is true, I think Ashasti would want to know as well."
Neralo frowned. "What's your concubine saying?"
"He confessed to having done some terrible things to women in the past. Which isn't too surprising, coming from a patriarchal male. But he says he never really liked the rapes and beatings. He says he had to do those things to maintain his status within the patriarchy, but his companion is the one who put him up to them. He claims his companion likes to smooth-talk his way into a woman's confidence, and then turn on her."
Neralo was looking alarmed.
"Of course," she continued, "that's not what their psych profiles suggested. Neither of their profiles was very good, but my concubine's was supposedly the worst. Yet he seems very sincere. I'm trying to figure out if he really is."
"The male's psych profile was bad?" cried Neralo. "I mean – the one Ashasti Claimed? Ashasti didn't tell me that!"
Jamora shrugged. "Yes," she said. "I suppose Ashasti and I both took a risk. Perhaps it was unwise." She leaned forward. "What do you say, Neralo? Would you be willing to ask Ashasti's concubine some questions for me? It shouldn't take more than a few minutes."
Neralo looked very tense. "I find your story deeply disturbing. I definitely feel we should investigate." Then he stared down at his hands, and his shoulders slumped. "But I don't think I should take it upon myself to do it," he said. "I feel Ashasti needs to be involved. For me to do it just wouldn't be proper."
"Oh, for Goddess's sake, Neralo," said a female voice. "Just ask the woman's questions for her! If you won't, I will."
Startled, Jamora looked around and found that a slim redhead was standing near them. Neralo looked startled, too. They had both been so engrossed in their conversation that they hadn't noticed the woman's arrival.
Neralo stood up and gave the redhead an annoyed look. Then he turned to Jamora and said, "I'm sorry. I have to apologize for my sister, Nara. She has an unfortunate habit of butting into other people's business."
The redhead put her hands on her hips and glared at her brother. Her green eyes blazed. "It's my business, too! You're my twin, and Ashasti is my sister-in-law. Don't I have a right to be concerned about your happiness?" She looked at Jamora. "Sorry, but I happened to overhear, and I think it's obvious we need to investigate your concerns right now. If this turns out to be true, I don't think Ashasti would want this male in her household a moment longer. I think she would return him to the Bureau right away." She looked at her brother and raised an eyebrow. "Don't you think so, Neralo?"
Neralo's jaw worked. "Maybe," he said, his voice soft. He looked down, shifting uncomfortably from one foot to the other.
"Blue Star is in the courtyard, isn't he?" asked Nara.
Neralo nodded shortly.
Nara looked at Jamora and smiled. "Okay, then. Let's go find him." With that, she turned on her heel and headed toward the transparent wall. Jamora and Neralo followed her through a door, and out into the courtyard.
"Blue Star should be working in the northeast flower beds," said Neralo.
"Thank you for doing this," said Jamora. "Thank you both."
"Don't mention it," said Nara.
Jamora began following Nara and Neralo down a path, her heart hammering. Soon, she would know for sure. If the other male confirmed Smoke's story, she would have to take Nara and Neralo into her confidence. If he didn't, she would make it clear to them that her concubine was lying. That would remove any onus from the other male. Her stomach lurched as she imagined how it would feel to find out that Smoke was lying. That he was a psychopath after all….
They crossed an open area full of fountains, and then headed between some trees. The path curved, and they came into a garden full of moon-flower bushes and the unpleasant smell of fresh fertilizer. Jamora spotted Smoke's companion. He was working with a shovel, looking down at the earth with a distracted expression. Another chattel-male was standing near him.
Then Smoke's companion looked up and saw them. His mouth fell open as he laid eyes on her. He dropped the shovel. "Sam!" he cried, his voice full of astonished joy. "Sam!"
Jamora closed her eyes. The world seemed to stand still, and then pivot around this moment and turn upside-down. It was true. Smoke's story was true. She wasn't an Ashoran. And somehow, she wasn't really surprised.
She opened her eyes and found Smoke's companion heading toward her, his arms out-stretched, grinning madly. She was reminded of Smoke's initial reaction to her – and she remembered, with guilt, the way she had shut him down. She hadn't wanted to believe him. She hadn't been ready.
Nara and Neralo were watching the male's behavior with puzzled alarm. "Hold it right there!" said Neralo. "What do you think you're doing?"
Smoke's companion stopped and looked briefly toward Neralo, then back at her. "Tell them, Sam," he said. "Tell them who I am."
Jamora almost laughed at the irony. "This is a man from my home world," she said. "I know that for sure, now. Even though I don't remember him." She studied his handsome face, trying to pull it from the depths of her mind by sheer will-power. But it remained the face of a stranger.
He was gazing at her with confusion, now. And so were Nara and Neralo.
"I'm sorry," she said to the two siblings. "I haven't been entirely honest with you. But when you know everything, I hope you'll forgive me."
She looked toward Smoke's companion again, finding his blue eyes full of sympathy. It was strange. She didn't remember him – and yet, wasn't there something about him that made her feel curiously at ease? "Before I tell my story," she said to him, "why don't you tell us yours?"
"Hey!" cried Neralo, and Jamora stopped, flushing as she realized she had spoken directly to another woman's concubine. And then she thought, So what? I'm not Ashoran. The Ashorans have been deceiving me all along.
She looked at Neralo, her mouth tight. "I'm sorry," she said, "but you see, I need this man to tell me who I am."
Neralo looked more confused than ever.
Smoke's companion gazed into her eyes, his brow scrunching up with concern. "Your name is Samantha Carter," he said. "You come from a planet called Earth, and you're a military officer. You're also a scientist. You have a doctorate in astrophysics. You and I worked together on a team that explores new planets through the Stargate."
"What the hell are you talking about?" asked Neralo.
"Let him finish," said Nara.
"Thank you," said Smoke's companion. He smiled at Nara. "By the way," he told her, "my name is Daniel Jackson." Nara smiled back at him. Neralo gave his sister a perplexed look, obviously wondering why she didn't tell him that Daniel was no longer his name.
Jamora/Sam suddenly remembered the other chattel-male. He was still standing there, taking everything in with a puzzled expression. She looked at Nara and Neralo. "Please," she said, "I'd like to keep all this as confidential as possible." She sent a significant glance toward the black-haired chattel-male.
"Neralo," said Nara, "shouldn't Black Hands be tending to the southwest garden right about now?" Neralo threw his sister a mutinous look, but gave the chattel-male instructions to that effect.
After the other chattel-male had left, Jamora/Sam met Daniel's eyes expectantly. His expression grew somber. "About a year ago," he said, "you were kidnapped during one of our missions. We were investigating some Ancient ruins. You and Teal'c were examining a device in one building, while Jack and I looked at some inscriptions in another. You and Teal'c were attacked by people who had Goa'uld weapons. Teal'c was badly injured. You were apparently knocked out with a zat gun and carried away through the Stargate. We didn't see the attackers leave, and had no idea who they were or where they took you. So we couldn't go after you."
His brow scrunched further. "You really don't remember any of this?"
She shook her head in answer.
"A couple of weeks ago," he continued, "we finally found out who had kidnapped you. A group of Atrosians came through the same Stargate, and we were able to take them prisoner and interrogate them. We went to Atrosia to try to track you down, and that's where Jack and I were captured by the Ashorans. Jack is the leader of our team, by the way. We need to locate him."
Jamora/Sam's lips quirked. "I already have. And your story does match his exactly. Not that I really had any doubts left."
She began telling her story. How she had woken up in the hospital eleven months ago, with no memories except a few broken recollections of her abuse at the hands of the Atrosians. What her doctors had told her about her identity and background. Her recovery process. Living with her "husband" Lagash. And then, meeting Smoke. Jack. How he had insisted that he knew her. The growth of her suspicions, and how they had led her here, to this courtyard. To the proof that Jack had told her the truth.
When she finished speaking, there was silence.
Then Daniel said, "I'm so sorry for everything you've been through, Sam. But we've found you now. We're together again. We'll get things straightened out."
Jamora/Sam looked at him. We're together again, he'd said. As if that solved everything. As if he had any power to solve anything, when he was only a chattel-male! Stop it, she told herself. You have to stop thinking like an Ashoran. Your name is Sam, and you come from Earth. But the trouble was, she still didn't know who Sam was. Not truly. Could she go back to living Sam's life? Did she really want to? And even if she did, would the Ashorans let her?
Daniel's gaze caught at her heart. His blue eyes were so full of empathy, so suggestive of a shared past she couldn't remember. She found herself smiling at him through tears.
"Goddess!" exclaimed Nara. "Somebody went to an great deal of trouble to deceive you. It's got to be the Government. They're behind all this."
Neralo frowned. "It seems someone felt it would be to your benefit to give you an Ashoran identity. To help compensate for your amnesia, and make it easier for you to recover from the terrible crimes of the Atrosians."
"We don't know that," said Nara, her voice sharp. "We can't be sure what the Foundationists are up to here."
Neralo sighed. "Nara," he said, "this is no time for your conspiracy theories."
"My conspiracy theories?" she asked, her voice indignant. She held an arm out toward Sam. "This woman is the victim of an elaborate conspiracy to make her believe she's someone she's not. Did I make that up?"
"You're twisting this around, Nara! They were just trying to help her!"
"Were they?" asked Nara, her voice full of frustration. "When are you going to realize that the Foundationists have secrets, Neralo? Big secrets. Why do you think I lost my post at the university?"
Her brother gave her a long-suffering look. "Because," he said, "you started spouting outlandish theories about the Founders and convinced everybody that you're a nut-case."
Sam noticed Daniel giving Nara a deeply sympathetic look.
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, brother," said Nara, "but I'm not crazy. Or stupid. I have good reasons for believing the Foundationists are keeping things from us. I'm telling you, there's something more going on here. Something deeper than just helping a Rescued woman adjust to Ashoran society."
Neralo sighed. "Well, whatever the case may be, we need to tell Ashasti about all this."
"No!" said Nara. "That's a bad idea!"
"Why?" cried Neralo, obviously exasperated. "Don't you think Ashasti would want to help this woman?"
"I'm sure she would," said Nara. "But Ashasti is too strait-laced. She'd probably insist on going through official channels. And that would be a disaster! The conspirators already know that Jamora is suspicious about her identity. If they realized Jamora – I mean Sam – has proof that they've deceived her, who knows what they'd do? We could all be in danger!"
"In danger?" asked Neralo, raising his eyebrows. "Are you implying that the sinister Government conspiracy might try to kill us or something?"
"Yes!" yelled Nara. "I am!"
"Oh, Goddess, Nara! Now you've lost it completely."
But Sam felt fear strike a cold blow to her heart. "I have to go," she said. She barely got the words out. Suddenly, she was so afraid she almost couldn't breathe.
Daniel met her eyes, and she somehow knew he shared her thoughts. "If Nara is right," he said, "if the Government has a lot at stake here…"
"I have to go," Sam repeated, trying to get her panic under control. "Jack…" Sam felt a rush of shame as she remembered how she'd left Jack locked in her bedroom, collared and defenseless. And she'd told Lagash about Jack! She'd let the conspirators know that Jack was undermining their plot! Sam felt the blood drain from her face.
"Jamora," said Neralo, "your concubine is probably perfectly safe." He gave his sister a glare. "Nara has a very active imagination. Don't let her theories upset you."
"My name isn't Jamora," she said to him. "It's Sam. And I'd like you to promise me you won't tell anyone else about this until I contact you again tomorrow. Please. Will you keep this to yourself for that long?"
Neralo frowned. "Ashasti is my wife. I shouldn't keep things from her."
"Neralo," said Nara, "if you're right, and this is all just an attempt to assist a Rescued woman, what will it hurt to hold off telling Ashasti for a day? But if I'm right, then Ashasti is probably safer not knowing. And by tomorrow, things should be a little clearer."
Neralo scowled at his sister, then looked into Sam's frightened face. He sighed. "All right," he said. "I'll keep this to myself for now. I'll wait to hear from you. But only till the end of the day tomorrow."
"Thank you," said Sam, her tone fervent. "Thank you both for everything."
"I'll see you again soon, Sam," said Daniel. "With Jack." But he looked worried.
###
The drive from Great Park to her house took only 15 minutes, but Sam was trying to make it less.
She had run all the way back to her car, and then realized that the car's traffic-interface electronics would put her on the Ashoran Net as soon as she got in. She'd considered disabling the automatic interface so the conspirators wouldn't know she was on her way back, but hadn't wanted to take the time. She also hadn't wanted to provide definite evidence that she was no longer fooled. If Nara was right, that would push the conspirators into panic mode.
Sam's mind was whirling as she drove. Maybe she was overreacting. Maybe, as Neralo had suggested, the conspiracy was basically benign. But she couldn't bear the thought that Jack might be in danger because of her. Because she had believed the conspirators' lies, instead of believing in him! She needed to see Jack's face again. She had never wanted anything so badly in her life.
She reached her driveway at last. She jumped out of the car and ran to her door. As soon as she entered the house, she yelled for Lagash and used her neural implants to page his Collar. She walked quickly through the entrance hallway, and into her living room … and stopped.
There were three people in her living room. When she entered, they rose from their chairs and looked at her. They had obviously been waiting for her.
Sam felt her guts turn inside-out.
Lagash was one of them. The second was Dr. Lishet, her psychiatrist. And the third was Dr. Sishesiv, a medical bureaucrat whom she'd met only a few times before.
"Jamora," said Dr. Lishet. "Please sit down. We have something very important to discuss with you." Lishet was using her professional voice, calm and reassuring. And she had her professional face on, too, but Sam could tell she was worried. Lagash's face was more expressionless than she'd ever seen it, but she thought there was a shadow of grief there. Dr. Sishesiv was wearing a pompous look of doctor-like concern. Sam didn't know her very well, but Sishesiv had never made a good impression.
Sam swallowed, and remained standing. Anger helped her get her fear under control. "Where's Smoke?" she demanded.
"That's what we'd like to discuss with you, Mora," said Dr. Lishet. "Please sit down."
Sam glared at Lagash. She felt herself flushing with fury – at Lagash, and at herself. Lagash didn't try to dodge her eyes. There was pain in his.
"You mustn't blame Lagash," said Dr. Lishet. "He contacted us out of concern for you. Dr. Sishesiv and I are the ones who decided on this action."
"We have a responsibility to protect you, Jamora," said Dr. Sishesiv.
A wave of panic washed through Sam. "What have you done?" she asked, the words barely getting out through her constricted throat. "Where's Smoke?" She began walking toward the stairs.
"Mora," said Dr. Lishet, her voice gentle, "Smoke isn't in your bedroom anymore. He isn't in this house."
Sam froze. Her heart gave a painful throb, then seemed to stop. She turned and looked at Dr. Lishet, her eyes wide.
"Please, Mora," she said. "Sit down so we can talk about it."
"I don't want to sit down," said Sam, her voice rough with fear and anger. "I want to know what you've done with my concubine."
"Jamora," said Dr. Sishesiv, "you Claimed a male that was evaluated as Unredeemable. Obviously, that wasn't a rational decision. Your mind still hasn't recovered from the trauma you suffered. And the Unredeemable male was trying to undermine your mental stability even further! We had to take action. You're under psychiatric supervision, Jamora. We have a legal duty to protect you."
No. Sam had thought they couldn't legally take Jack away from her, but it seemed she'd been wrong. "Where is he?" she asked. Lishet and Sishesiv exchanged looks. "Just tell me!" she cried, her voice rising to a shout.
Dr. Sishesiv frowned. It was Dr. Lishet who spoke. "Mora," she said, "you know that Smoke was recommended for termination. For your protection, we arranged for his original disposition to be reinstated. On an expedited basis. It has been carried out."
Sam stared at Lishet. Even though she'd been half-expecting it, she didn't feel quite able to take it in. There was a kind of roaring in her ears.
"I know this will come as something of a shock. But believe me, Mora, it's for the best. In time, you'll come to appreciate that."
Lishet's voice seemed distant and irrelevant. Sam found herself sitting down after all. Her knees just gave out. She felt numb.
The room receded, and for a moment Sam's mind was full of jumbled impressions of Jack. His face, his voice. The touch of his firm body and long, gentle fingers. The powerful magic of their night together. The confusion and anguish of their confrontation this morning. Only hours ago! She had been with him less than 24 hours!
No, that isn't true, she thought. I knew him for years. She could feel the emotional weight of those years deep inside herself, but she couldn't see them. All those memories were gone.
And now, Jack was gone. He was dead and gone.
Sam's mind went blank. A dark space opened up inside her, as vast and empty as the space between the stars.
"… so don't worry, Mora. You'll get over this. Sooner than you think."
Dr. Lishet's voice shouldn't have mattered, but her words reached Sam in the void. They ignited a spark of outrage that brought her back.
She looked at Dr. Lishet's face, and it was full of gentle sympathy. As it had been so often before, during all their sessions together, when Sam had poured out her hurts and frustrations. She had liked and trusted Lishet. She had been a fool.
Her gaze went to Lagash. Her "husband." The person she had trusted more than anyone else. His face was a mask, but she saw guilt in his eyes. Yes, she thought. You are guilty.
"We have only your best interests at heart, Jamora," said Dr. Sishesiv.
Sam took in Dr. Sishesiv's authoritative air and thought, She's the leader. She's the head of the conspiracy. She's the one who gave the order to have Jack killed.
A cold wind swept through Sam. It filled her body with energy, and her mind with a strange, merciless light.
She realized that Dr. Sishesiv should die. And the wonderful thing was that she suddenly knew she could make that happen. She could kill Sishesiv with her bare hands! She knew how! The skills were there inside her.
Sam stood up and took a step toward Sishesiv, and something must have shown in her eyes, because Sishesiv tried to take a step back. Her legs bumped clumsily into the chair she had been sitting in while she waited for Sam to come home. While she waited to tell Sam that Jack was dead.
Suddenly, Sam's path was blocked by a large, male body. Lagash was standing in her way. She looked up at him. This was the man who'd made her believe he was her husband. She'd had sex with him, and thought it felt good. Her cold rage turned even icier.
Lagash's eyes held too much understanding. He knows I'm on to them, she realized. He'd always been too damn good at reading her.
He was a big, strong man – but she could take him. Ashoran men didn't know how to fight. Wait, she thought. There's a better way. If she used his Collar to incapacitate Lagash, that would enable her to get Sishesiv for sure. She thought she could get Lishet, too, though she wouldn't have much time. Both women would use their neural implants to send a distress call. The police – or perhaps some more shadowy group – would be at the house within minutes.
Sam sent the Paralysis command to Lagash's Collar – and nothing happened. He didn't crumple to the floor. So, thought Sam, that was a lie, too. She didn't control Lagash's Collar. But Lagash's eyes flickered with awareness, and Sam realized his Collar was rigged to inform him of the commands she sent. He knew she was trying to Paralyze him!
Sam's body tensed to attack – but Lagash said, "I adore you, Mora." His eyes pleaded with her. They glistened with tears.
The words hit Sam like a blow to the gut – because that was one of their special phrases. That was part of the secret language they had developed during the early part of her recovery process, when she had struggled to get through ordinary tasks, like shopping for groceries, without revealing her amnesia to others. Lagash had accompanied her almost everywhere, and they had developed a series of code phrases so that Lagash could guide her without appearing to do so.
"I adore you, Mora." That was a warning that she was about to commit a major faux pas, and needed to start following his lead. Hearing Lagash speak those words, and seeing the look of empathy in his expressive eyes, brought back memories of all the times she had depended on him. Of the trust, gratitude, and affection she had so foolishly given him – even after Jack had given her reason to know better. Her rage faltered as pain and guilt washed over her. If only her judgment had been better, Jack might not be dead.
And then, a thought went through her like an electric shock: Jack is dead, but Daniel is still alive!
Sam fell back into her chair again as she realized that killing Sishesiv – or even all three of these people – wouldn't protect Daniel. The conspiracy was bigger than that. Murdering them right here and now wouldn't remove the danger. It would only get her arrested and classified as a dangerous lunatic – or possibly cause her to vanish at the hands of the conspirators. Either way, she'd be in no position to help Daniel. And she couldn't let him down, the way she'd let Jack down. She couldn't.
Sam shuddered. She had almost made another horrible mistake.
With relief, she remembered that the conspirators wouldn't be able to trace her visit to Ashasti's house. They wouldn't know that she had contacted Daniel. She silently thanked her subconscious mind for making her forget her data-wristlet. Her subconscious had been way ahead of her conscious mind all along.
Lagash had knelt down before her. Now, he laid his hand over hers. She snatched it away and hugged herself. She looked down at Lagash's face, her vision blurred by tears, and saw that Lagash was crying, too.
"Mora," he said, his voice broken with emotion, "please forgive me. Everything I've done, I did for you. I only wanted to make you happy. I'm just a male, but I do the best I can."
Sam felt her guts twist. She knew what he was trying to say to her. He was trying to make her believe that he truly did care about her, and regretted what had happened to Jack. He was trying to tell her that he was on her side, but because he was only a male he didn't have much power. She looked into his eyes, and his distress seemed so real…
No, she thought, sudden anger stabbing her heart. She wasn't going to let him draw her in again. She would never trust him again. And yet – even though he knew she was no longer fooled, he seemed to be keeping that from the others.
"Please, Mora, let me help you through this. I'm here for you."
"I'm here for you" was another code phrase. Once again, he was asking her to follow his lead.
"That male was bad for you," he went on. "He was Unredeemable. You can't trust anything he told you! Listen to Dr. Lishet and Dr. Sishesiv. They're your Ashoran sisters. They want you to finish your recovery process, so that you can go back to being the woman you used to be. When you're truly well again, Mora, no wild male will have the power to upset you like this!"
Oh, thought Sam, you're good. He was telling her to start pretending that she still believed their lies, and was willing to accept what they had done to Jack. Although Sam didn't fully trust Lagash, she realized that was good advice. She needed to lull the conspirators into thinking that everything was back on track. The more secure they felt, the safer Daniel would be.
Daniel would be harder for them to harm than Jack had been. He was the concubine of a wealthy Charitist. There was no way they could get to him legally, and trying to murder him might be sticky. If she made the conspirators believe she still thought of herself as Jamora, maybe they wouldn't consider it necessary to go after Daniel. After all, as far as they knew, Daniel had never seen her. But there was no guarantee. Daniel wouldn't be truly safe until she'd gotten him back to Earth.
Sam forced herself to uncross her arms and reach for Lagash's hand. "I know you love me, Lagash," she said. "It's just that this is all such a shock." The words tasted bitter.
"We know that, Mora," said Lishet. "And we wish there had been an easier way. But, believe me, this is for the best. Now your life can get back to normal."
Sam didn't trust herself to look at Lishet. She was afraid of what might show in her face. So, she kept her gaze on Lagash, and saw her anger mirrored in his eyes. What was he up to? Where did he stand?
Okay, Lagash, she thought. I'll play along. I'll pretend I've been sucked in again. And after these two lying bitches have left, I'll listen to your explanations. She would get as much information out of Lagash as she could. The more she knew about the conspirators, the safer Daniel would be. But if you think I'll ever really trust you again, she thought, you're the one who needs psychiatric help.
She had to play a careful game. The only person she could fully trust was Daniel. Even Nara and Neralo had to be dealt with cautiously. After all, what did she really know about them?
She glanced at the two women in the room, and steeled herself to put on an act. She had to convince them that she still believed their lies. It would be hard, because she hated them so much. But she would do it. She had to, for Daniel's sake.
She would make the conspirators think they still had her fooled. She would learn as much as she could from Lagash. And she would figure out how to get Daniel home. The Ashoran Stargate was heavily guarded, but she would find a way.
Once Daniel was safely back on Earth, she would be free. Free to go after the conspirators. Not just one or two, but all of them.
She would destroy them all.
###
Jack became aware that he was lying on a cold, hard, rough surface and staring at a grey wall. He sat up and blinked, trying to clear the cotton balls out of his head.
Hadn't he just done this whole waking-up-woozy thing? Only the walls had been white, hadn't they? And more upscale-looking?
The white cell. Daniel. Sam. Sam's arms, Sam's bed. Being left in Sam's bedroom. Lying there paralyzed while people talked about having him "euthanized."
Right. That. Suddenly feeling a lot more alert, Jack sprang to his feet and quickly scanned his surroundings.
He was in a small, rectangular cell. The floor, walls, and ceiling were some sort of grey concrete – except when he turned around. That side of the cell consisted of your classic, vertical prison bars.
A woman stood on the other side of bars, watching him. She stood back far enough to be out of reach. She was short, stout, and blond, and she wore a dark grey uniform. It was like the uniform worn by the woman he'd seen in Sam's bedroom.
The Stumpy Blond ran her eyes down his body and leered. Jack felt a wave of annoyed embarrassment as he realized he was now completely naked. Even the little black loin-cloth was gone. But he quickly buried the feeling.
"So," asked Jack, "what's going on? Hope you're not planning on killing me, 'cause I've got my DVR set to record The Simpsons while I'm gone. Lots of episodes waiting to be watched."
The blond looked a little perplexed at this speech, but then gave him a nasty grin. "Actually," she said, "I've already killed you, and I've cremated your body, too. I filled out the forms myself, all nice and neat. Officially, you're nothing but a little pile of ash. Oh, and a Retrieved Collar, of course."
Jack's hands flew to his neck – but the Collar was still there. He tugged at it and gave Stumpy Blond a look. "Retrieved Collar, you say?"
"Not really yours, of course. A substitute. Programmed with your serial number." She pointed at his Collar. "Meanwhile, your Collar is no longer in the Government's system. It's been re-programmed. By us."
Jack raised his eyebrows. It didn't sound like they were going to kill him, so things were looking up. Weren't they? Somehow, this whole situation was giving him a very bad feeling. "Who's 'us'?" he asked.
That was when his body went limp, and he crumpled to the floor. Paralyzed again! Crap!
Stumpy Blond studied him for a moment, and checked a small device she held in her hand.
"Oh," she said, her tone conversational, "we're just an enterprising group of women. Out to supply a demand, and make a little profit along the way."
She released him from Paralysis, and Jack got back on his feet. He was beginning to feel really annoyed. "What does that mean?" he snapped.
She gave him another nasty grin. "It means this is your lucky day, dog! See, you're such a mean, mangy male-dog that the High Council thinks you're good for nothing. They can't think of anything to do with you except put you down." She grinned wider. "But the truth is, the High Council are a bunch of prudes with no imagination. There's all kinds of interesting things you can do with a male when you don't have to worry about any pesky Government regulations, or any male-coddling Charitists sticking their noses where they don't belong. There's women out there who'll pay good money for that kind of flexibility." She gave him an exaggerated wink. "So you get to live, dog! You get to live and Serve, in some very special ways."
Okay, this really sucked. It wasn't enough that he'd been enslaved. Now, he had apparently gone from being a regular slave to being an illegal, off-the-books slave. "Are you telling me," said Jack, "that I'm about to be sold on the Black Market?"
"Nah," she said. "Not you. You're already spoken for."
Jack felt the quick stab of pain he had come to recognize as a Warning command. He grimaced. "Was it something I said?" he asked.
Stumpy Blond ignored him. She glanced back down at her hand device.
That was when the Punishment pain hit, filling Jack's mind with white-hot agony. The world went away, blocked out by the excruciating torment.
When the Punishment stopped, he found himself curled up on the floor, his muscles in knots. Jack had to admit the pain inflicted by the Collar was seriously bad – as bad as anything he had ever experienced before. Maybe worse. And that was saying a lot.
Jack got back to his feet with as much dignity as he could muster. "What was that for?" he asked.
Stumpy Blond was looking at her device again. She glanced up and said, "Nothing. Just testing the re-programming." Her tone was casual. "Don't think I'll check the milder Punishment settings, though. Where you're going, they never get used anyway." She grinned at him, as if she'd said something funny.
Oh, yeah. She was a laugh a minute. Jack opened his mouth to say something to that effect – but then his mouth just stayed open. What the hell was going on down there? He did NOT find this woman attractive!
Stumpy Blond stared and gave Jack another leer. "Not bad," she said.
Jack's brows drew down, and he actually felt himself blushing. His body had gone AWOL! And then he realized – it wasn't him. She was doing it through the Collar.
Jack felt a rush of anger and unease. The unpleasant implications buzzed around in his mind. If these women could use the Collar to control his sexual responses, that meant…
Crap. The pressure in his groin was building. NO, he thought. I am NOT going to …
Jack cried out involuntarily. He clapped his palms to his forehead, and closed his eyes.
Stumpy Blond chuckled. "You liked that part, didn't you?"
Jack dropped his hands and looked at her. He had his emotions under control again, but there was a slow, burning anger deep inside him. "No," he said. "I didn't. But that's nothing new for you, is it?"
Her eyes narrowed. "Oh, you are an insolent dog, aren't you? Just the kind Umala loves bringing to heel. Maybe I'll come visit you in a month or two. Maybe I'll let you beg to Serve me then."
"Maybe pigs will fly," said Jack.
She smiled, and her eyes gleamed with malice. "Stupid dog. You're just like all the others that go to the Arena. Stupid, aggressive, fighting dogs. You all bluster and bark. But we'll train you to obey, dog. Because you're our property, now." She grinned. "Did you think that little taste of Punishment was bad? Imagine how it would feel to be Punished like that for hours – or even days. You see, we've disabled all the safety protocols in your Collar. There are no rules now, no limits." She sneered. "I know you think you're tough, dog. Arena dogs always do. But you'll learn to do absolutely anything you're told. Just like all the others."
Jack looked at Stumpy Blond, and knew she wasn't bluffing. He was in deep trouble. He'd fallen into the hands of criminals, and the Collar made him almost helpless.
If Sam had any clue he was being held prisoner, she'd come after him. He was certain of that. Amnesia or not, she would never leave him behind. But they had faked his death! Sam would think he was already dead!
And that meant there'd be no one coming back for him.
