AN: And it continues...
Jacob had paced that room a thousand times on the trip. Trying hard to get all the pieces to fit in his head. Sam was... one of them. Fighting with the Yuuzhan Vong. As a Yuuzhan Vong. Try as he might, he couldn't resolve that. Couldn't make it fit in the slightest.
Sam wouldn't do that.
Selmak agreed completely. Not of her own free will. Whatever their form of coercion... it must have been terrible.
Torture. He knew there had been torture. If only from the reports of SG-1 after they were rescued it was a given. Besides, those scars. He had only seen the ones on her forehead, but Jacob knew there had to be more. His fists clenched as he thought about someone hurting her, marking her like that. Whatever else they had done was hidden under that green armor, shattered beyond usefulness. How shattered had she been underneath it? Was she already dead?
Selmak squirmed within him, uncomfortable with his line of thought. But then, how could she not be when Jacob knew her thoughts so closely mirrored his own?
He could have touched Sam. They were separated by a few short feet, it would have been nothing to close the small gap. Just one small brush of his fingers against her cheek and Jacob could have assured himself that this all had been real. As it was it felt like a dream, a hallucination, a joke. For a few minutes Sam had been standing in front of him, alive when everyone, himself included, had written her off.
We did not give her enough credit before. I think we should refrain from repeating that error.
You think she's alive?
I do not know that she is dead.
It wasn't much of an answer, but he'd take it. Jacob couldn't make himself believe that after everything, that was truly the last time he'd ever see Sam. It was too cruel. He glanced through the wall where Pallok sat. If the other Tok'ra hadn't distracted him, then maybe...
It is useless to dwell on what might have been. It was rare to see Selmak struggle with her own emotions. She understood why Pallok had done what he did, but she didn't agree with it. And she wasn't entirely sure that it wasn't because her judgment was so clouded on the subject. Personally, he had no issue laying blame on the other man. Whether or not he had been logical or rational, Pallok had basically condemned his daughter to death.
But... he could also understand Selmak's reluctance. And had enough respect for her to try and put that small piece aside. After all, he definitely had plenty of other details to mull over. He kept going back to his worry for Sam.
Where was she now?
Found
It was virtually the same thought that floated through Ry'ac's head. Where was Sam? When he could sit in the room no longer, he had wandered the corridors. She had never been gone this long before. Could they still be fighting?
As he walked he saw warriors scattered about. Picked up bits of conversation as he passed. Ry'ac tried not to rankle as he heard them pass stories of how the jaffa were routed. How they had stood no chance.
"Pardon the interruption." Ry'ac gave his best subservient pose as he stopped by one group. "The battle below is over?"
They looked down on him, sneering. One of the warriors replied with a snarl. "It is long over. Bother us no further."
He kept going from group to group. Asking if anyone had seen Sam. Many sent him on with sharp looks, and those that did respond told him nothing. Ry'ac knew that something was up. He felt it in his bones. The longer he wandered without answers the more certain he became.
Was he now going to find out what his exact fate was without Sam?
He returned back to her room, hoping that she would be there waiting for him. Saunak was leaving as he approached, and Ry'ac rushed to catch her.
"Saunak," he said as he neared. The fist whipped out before he could even register, bloodying his nose. A deep scowl was set in her face. In his haste, he forgot he didn't hold the same familiarity with her that Sam did. Not that he really cared. "Forgive me warrior, I meant no disrespect. I've been looking for... Calisa. Did she return while i was gone?"
Saunak's expression hadn't changed. "The shapers are tending to her now."
Ry'ac froze. He remembered that room full of injured, and how the shapers had "tended" to them. There was no comfort in the thought.
"How bad is it?" He dreaded the answer. If it truly wasn't serious, he would have seen her, wouldn't he? She would have been here herself.
Saunak didn't answer immediately. There was obvious anger in her features. What exactly had happened, he wondered? "They are surprised that she has even survived this long."
Ry'ac could feel the color draining out of his face. What chance did she possibly have? "I want to see her."
"You cannot." He only stared at her more insistently, refusing to back down so easily. She nearly smiled. "No one may see her now, the shapers need their space."
He muttered something about the usefulness of shapers in English. They stood back and watched people die, didn't they?
While she may not have understood the words, the tone was obvious. Ry'ac found himself shoved back against the wall. Saunak's face was almost touching his.
"I will forgive this once. Understand?" Ry'ac nodded. "And I will come for you when you may see your master once more."
As she let him go, Ry'ac frowned. "You really think she'll make it?"
"She will."
Saunak walked away without another word, leaving him to puzzle on his own. Was she simply deluded with her fanaticism? Or did she know something that he didn't? After all, he slowly came to realize, they had gone to all the trouble of turning Sam. So perhaps they weren't willing to lose her as readily as one of the nameless warriors that permeated the ship.
Maybe, maybe he didn't know exactly what he thought he did.
Found
Jacob strode through the 'gate with singular purpose. Jack watched as the man didn't so much as slow down when the general began to greet him, stopping mid word as Jacob climbed the steps to the briefing room two at a time. He had said he needed to speak to them in the transmission, SG-1 and the general, but had told them nothing more on the subject. From the looks, they weren't going to like wherever this was headed.
He leaned towards Daniel and muttered. "Not good."
"No," Daniel agreed before they followed. Teal'c remained silent, as he tended to be these days. More so than he usually was. Who could blame him?
When they reached the top of the stairs, Hammond in the lead, Jack saw Jacob staring through the glass to the stargate below. Concentrating intently on the now dormant ring. Something... dark wavered on the fringes of his face, despite his obvious efforts.
"What's going on, Jacob?" Hammond said after a long silence.
"Wait a minute." Jacob scrubbed a hand over his face, wearily. "Just wait a damn minute. And sit down."
He absently waved at the table behind him, and they all approached it cautiously. Jack frowned as he sat. Never had he seen the older man so frazzled. It was the best description he could come up with. Frayed nerves zapping, yeah frazzled. And anything that could do that to Jacob, and to his little snaky roommate, must be very serious.
Jacob's head drooped slightly, a sign that he and Selmak just changed shifts. Selmak turned to face them, shaking her head slightly.
"Please forgive us. We thought it would be easier already. Clearly we were mistaken."
Jack steepled his fingers as he leaned forward. All of this stalling was making him antsy. "I don't know what you want, but I think I speak for everyone when I say that the anticipation is killing me."
Selmak gave the ghost of a smile, but it was more sad than anything. "An unfortunate metaphor. We thought you deserved to hear, face-to-face, from Jacob and I. As you are aware, we were shadowing one of the Yuuzhan Vong contingents. Where the one the jaffa call 'the Flayer' has been sighted."
Out of the corner of his eye, Jack saw Teal'c's face tighten. It was a sore subject.
Selmak's voice caught, and Hammond responded before Jack could manage. "Yes. I take it something happened out there."
She nodded. Slowly. "We waited while the Yuuzhan Vong ship underwent repairs after the last battle with Ba'al, and followed it onto the next battle theater. In our reconnaissance, we were able to identify this 'Flayer' and attempt a capture."
"You got him?" Daniel's eyes widened.
Jack waved away the response. He saw it in Selmak's face, heard it in the careful phrasing. "Keyword: attempt."
Selmak finally took a seat with a heavy sigh. "The Colonel is right. The attempt... It did not go as expected."
"Is he alive?"
They all turned to Teal'c, surprised at his interruption. There was a desperation in the question. Unfinished business, Jack knew. He wanted his own shot at this guy.
"She." It was Jacob that spoke now. The weariness was washed away by a wave of frustration. His fists clenched as though he was ready to use them. He shot back to his feet, the chair nearly upending in his wake. "She was on the goddamn ship. Right there."
Jacob was motioning to the empty air in front of him, almost as if something was still there in that imaginary space. But the sharpness of his words, his reaction, it didn't make sense. Jack still didn't understand why he was so clearly rattled.
"She?" Daniel was the one who spoke this time. Almost as if he was starting to put it together. Jack could only eye him narrowly, not seeing whatever it was the other man did.
"Sam."
"What?" It was all Jack could say. His brain had ground to a screeching halt, unable to process that one simple word.
"Sam?" Daniel's voice trembled. Then it cracked as he continued. "Sam's alive?"
"I don't know... Sam was hurt. I don't even know how she could stand. I don't even know how she was conscious. It was bad, though. Just one look and you could tell."
The agony of saying those words out loud, of even admitting the possibility that she was dead was obvious. Would have been, if Jack's head wasn't throbbing with the rush of his own blood. Because, as his brain worked to put together the picture that Jacob was painting, it just got more and more messy. If Jacob was saying what Jack thought he was...
"Why don't you start again, from the beginning," Hammond said.
Jacob did. He told them everything that had happened from the start of the fight to their harrowing escape. They listened in tense silence.
It was a lot to take in. That Sam had been alive all this time. That in and of itself was enough to outrage and incite. Then add into the mix that she was in fact the big bad boogy man that everyone was talking about. The figure that inspired fear and awe among the jaffa. That was just as hard to swallow. But perhaps the worst was not knowing her fate. Was she alive or dead? Would they never really know what had happened to Sam? How the Yuuzhan Vong were able to do it? Or would they spend the rest of their lives wondering exactly how the monsters managed to twist someone like Sam into one of their own?
"Major Carter killed my son?" Teal'c's words were soft spoken, but incredulous and bitter. And they gave everyone pause.
Jacob cocked his head. "You don't know that."
"You say that she is this 'Flayer'. She led the attack. Perhaps she is even the one who gave up the planet to the Yuuzhan Vong."
"Teal'c..." Jack tried to stay him. The speculation was unnerving because... what if he was right? And how could they even consider the possibility? It hurt, damn it. No matter how he sliced it, it hurt.
"Her part in this was not a small one. Major Carter is responsible." Teal'c grew more tense as he spoke, emotion creeping into his voice. Anger, framed with a thick swathe of disbelief.
Jacob responded with equal enthusiasm. "You can't think that. You can't think she did any of this willingly. Of her own accord. This is Sam we're talking about."
"Once, perhaps."
Teal'c stood, the picture of calm, and walked out of the room. Jack knew he was anything but, and marvelled that he could mask it so well. Too well.
He was debating following when Daniel broke the silence.
"What if he's right?"
Jacob eyed him dangerously. "Not you too..."
"No," Daniel said quickly. "I mean, whatever these guys did. What if Sam's not Sam? Not exactly, at least."
Jack could see it. Some form of it. How else would she have done any of the things she had? "Makes sense."
"Yeah." Jacob let out a heavy breath.
Found
Teal'c strode through the corridors with an increasing frenzy. As if he could outrun the boiling rage that threatened to overwhelm him. He ignored the airmen that plastered themselves against the walls as he passed, or turned around at the very sight of him. Ignored them because it would have been so easy to take out this anger on one of them. On all of them.
He didn't know where he was going, or what he intended to do when he got there. He needed to escape, and he needed to think. Neither of which were possible.
It was too much. Ry'ac was dead, wasn't that enough? Now he learned that Sam had played a part in it. May well even have done it herself.
That thought put his fist into the wall with a savage shout. He had found his way to the gym, and the room cleared out immediately. Teal'c didn't even notice, not over the pounding in his veins or the dark tint in his vision.
"Teal'c." Jack's voice barely cut through the haze. Sympathetic, and unsure. That almost made it worse, but he wasn't sure that was possible. Then his voice just got hollow. "It's a pisser, that's for damn sure."
The words were as sharp as the throbbing in his bloody fist. "I trusted Samantha with my life, with that of my family."
"Teal'c..."
"She has broken that trust in the most heinous way."
Jack was quick to oppose. "It's not her fault."
Fury bubbled out, and Teal'c had no real desire to quell it. "She did these things."
"In body, maybe, but not in spirit. This is Sam we're talking about. You trusted her because she was worth that trust, is worth that trust. We all do. Those bastards are responsible. They did this."
Jack grew more passionate as he spoke. Teal'c simply stared at him for several moments.
"Samantha is dead."
"She could've survived."
But that wasn't what he meant. If she did this, then there was nothing left of her. That, Teal'c realized, that would make it worse.
Jack's eyes narrowed, understanding from Teal'c's expression. His voice was tight. "No. You can't believe that, either. You can't."
Jack shook his head, turned away for a moment. When he turned back he glared.
"We left her there. I left her there, damn it! Thought she was dead and just left her to the wolves. I'm not going to leave her behind again. You aren't going to tell me she can't be saved. She's not dead, in any sense of the word."
Teal'c said nothing and left. It was the most merciful thing he could do for the other man at that time.
Found
Ry'ac followed behind Saunak. Anxious and hesitant. He had spent the long hours since he last saw her restlessly. He had tried to kel'no'reem, and had failed before he began. After waiting a small eternity for this moment, Ry'ac wasn't so sure he wanted it.
No, that wasn't quite right, he wanted it. He was just afraid of what he might see.
The room was saturated with a warm mist. It clung to his skin, to his nose. Smelled vaguely of citrus. It was only a couple steps below cloying.
"An anti-microbial solution," Saunak had explained, "to prevent infection."
Ry'ac nodded, his attention elsewhere. A male shaper came from further in the room, eyed them both for a moment and left. The room opened up ahead. Ry'ac hesitated, knowing that the moment he stepped forward he would see. Whatever there was to see. And what if it was worse than he imagined? He could hardly see how, but what if?
And after all she had tried to do for him to this point, didn't he owe her at least this much?
He took a breath and stepped out. Let his eyes wander. A few adepts moved back and forth around a small raised platform. For a while he was caught up with the branching tree that rose up beside the platform. Just like a tree in winter the branches narrowed, split, twisted of their own accord. He noticed the whole thing was covered by what appeared to be small, dark berries. Every inch of it. As he continued to examine it, Ry'ac saw the tree had root-like tendrils that connected to Sam through her nose and mouth.
But he was too taken by her to question or object the creature. She lay on her back, curled slightly to her right with her head turned. With only a couple small strips of clothing, he could see it all. A contradiction. Her skin was frighteningly pale, between the scars and tattoos, where dark bruises didn't settle. Face, shoulder, ribs. All over, but the worst settled there. The eye he could see was swollen shut. Blood still wept from cuts that littered her body.
Sam looked so small without the armor, the masquer. Entirely out of place among the Yuuzhan Vong that cared for her.
She looked dead. Still. Completely motionless. His chest tightened.
"She's not breathing."
"I should hope not," Saunak said. Ry'ac's mouth hung open as his head snapped to her. How could she respond so easily to that? She actually touched him, hand on his shoulder, which Ry'ac didn't quite register in the moment. "Lakys."
The word meant nothing to him. "I don't understand."
"Calisa's internal injuries are significant, and must be handled delicately. Lakys is a paralytic, to keep her still. It also suppresses many autonomic functions, hence the vranith."
She motioned to the tree creature, which apparently performed that task for her. Ry'ac stared at it.
"Sa... She's alive?" He barely caught himself. Her chest was as still as the rest of her. It was unnerving, unreal.
"Yes."
He looked at Sam harder, because he still couldn't see it. How she could be so pale, so broken, and yet alive. Contradiction, yes he had been right about that. He started forward without thinking, and was stopped almost immediately.
"You may not touch her," Saunak said.
No, he agreed, she looked far too frail to touch. "I will stay here."
"So be it. I have duties to attend. You will watch your master while I am away."
He could see a sliver of it now. Worry. Not unlike his own. But of course it would be something that Saunak didn't televise, it wasn't their way. He could only nod, as if he had any real power to protect Sam from harm.
Saunak left, with a quick glance back to where Sam lay. Ry'ac sat down, settling himself in for the long haul. He watched Sam, watched the shapers come and go, and tried to make himself believe that she would be ok.
Found
Tsavong Lah listened as his tactician relayed the current standing of their forces. Progress went well. What enemy positions that weren't yet crumbling showed signs of wear. He gave his commands to the tactician, redirecting forces as he saw fit. The push would continue.
"And what of the convert?" It would be a shame to lose her, Tsavong Lah thought, but not crippling. She was a morale boost for the warriors, and had sewed fear and legend among the jaffa. Wasn't that a pleasant surprise?
The shapers had done well with her, despite his early skepticism.
"It is too soon to be certain, Warmaster. The shapers are hesitant."
It was a minor matter, and he waved the tactician away. The Asgard, his Asgard, was far more interesting. Tsavong Lah still had yet to figure out what made the creature tick. To strike fear into them, to manipulate their responses. Each of his failures to illicit response from Heimdall only grew his frustration. And his determination.
"Bring me the Asgard." One of his personal attendants slipped from the room to follow his command.
"Belek tiu, Fearsome One."
Dorak, the leader of Tsavong Lah's honor guard drifted from the shadows like a breath, bringing both fists to opposite breasts in crisp salute. Dorak had served his father for much of his reign as Warmaster, and had gained Czulkang's respect. As such, Tsavong Lah also respected his council.
"Speak."
Dorak neither hesitated nor wasted words. Both qualities to respect. "This creature commands too much of your time. He is a distraction."
Were anyone else to say the same words, Tsavong Lah would have killed them on the spot. Instead, he considered the possibility. Was he getting too wrapped up with Heimdall?
"He is dangerous, Warmaster," Dorak added.
Curious, perhaps. But dangerous? Nothing that could not be managed. "What brings you to this conclusion?"
"He has shown himself manipulative and cunning. Even now he has gained much knowledge of your mind and tactics."
"Absurd." Now Tsavong Lah started to anger.
"Ratak'no." Dorak referred to the game of strategy that they had indulged in. A game that had gone on far too long and ended in stalemate, an almost unheard of occurrence.
"He did not win."
Dorak cocked his head only slightly. "He won even before you were seated."
Tsavong Lah could have killed Dorak right there. The warrior wouldn't even have flinched, for his loyalty was absolute. He had given his life to the Warmaster, freely and completely. Dorak took that charge as a sacred duty. He protected his commander, not merely from physical threats.
Dorak was right, Tsavong Lah realized with a snarl. At the time he had been taken with frustration when victory did not come readily. And then he had used all of his knowledge from the countless games against his father to outmaneuver Heimdall. Had assumed the play some sort of passiveness, but he could see it now. Yes, if the game had been a bate, as it most surely was, Tsavong Lah had taken it.
"I will consider these words."
Dorak bowed his head slightly. "You honor me, Fearsome One."
Even as the attendant entered, Dorak slid silently back into the shadows. Tsavong Lah motioned to have Heimdall brought in. He eyed the small creature, seeing him in a new light. Yes, he had let himself grow too comfortable around the Asgard. Lulled by his unimposing stature, his perceived passiveness. But Heimdall had come to them, an act that was anything but passive. To discover this peace, that much he believed of the creature. What, though, when he realized that the peace he sought would not come.
The only acceptable peace, to either him or the Supreme Overlord, was total subjugation. Why would they settle for anything less?
As the silence lengthened, Heimdall spoke. "Is there a problem?"
Not for long. "I wonder, Asgard, what conclusions you are drawing about our time together."
"I see." Heimdall took a moment, blinked his large eyes. "Your species would appear to have a proclivity for violence and war, which may speak of the environment that birthed your race. With a strict adherence to hierarchy."
"You do not respect those of higher station?" Discipline and order. By the Yun'o, this galaxy needed these things. System Lords battled other System Lords. Clan fighting among the Yuuzhan Vong had been done away with generations ago. They were all the stronger for it.
"On the contrary, I respect them highly. However, there is room for conflicting opinions, discussions and debate."
One did not question a superior. And one certainly did not disobey. He thought of Dorak, off to his right. There were certain exceptions. Rare exceptions. But no matter what, Dorak would follow any order Tsavong Lah gave without hesitation.
"You would defy a superior?"
"If I could not, in good conscience, comply."
Tsavong Lah snorted, derisive. Inexcusable. "What good does command serve if one will not follow it? You are weakened by inaction. Hesitation. Catering to those beneath your station. It is wasteful, and intolerable. There is no need for it."
As he spoke, Tsavong Lah's voice grew harsher. He looked at Heimdall now, his eyes wild with his passion. Still, Heimdall's response was as measured as ever.
"In this opinion, we differ."
"Opinion." He spat out the word. There was no opinion, only compliance. Nothing else was necessary. Tsavong Lah gave a sharp motion, he could look at the Asgard no longer. The attendant led Heimdall out quickly, noting the danger in the Warmaster's eyes.
Tsavong Lah then made his way to the bridge, to watch the progress of the great ship and think. Dorak and his guard peeled from the fringes, following like the train of a ceremonial robe.
Found
The only movements that Sam made were from the manipulations of the shapers. It was only from this tending that Ry'ac could be at all comforted that she lived. The bruises had softened and were fading, rather quickly he guessed, but all that did was accentuate her underlying palor. Besides, it was superficial anyway. Twice in about as many days he had seen the shapers rush to restart her heart.
It was a buildup of fluids, information that he nearly had to browbeat from one of the adepts. Putting undo pressure on various organs, and they were hard pressed to keep it cleared.
Watching her, watching them, Ry'ac could only be more thankful for his prim'ta. His life had been spent around other jaffa, and as such this was his first real foray into medical procedures. The arts of staunching blood flow, of mending that which was broken. It was messy, unsettling, and-if she were conscious-looked like it would be extremely painful. He almost feared that they caused more damage than they fixed.
He had watched them implant nearly microscopic organisms throughout her body. More information he had to browbeat, they excreted the mineral components of bone, effectively knitting together the broken pieces. Ribs, humerus, even her skull had several radiating fractures. This was their main concern with the procedure, to prevent further complications if the pieces decided to shift. Apparently she had been extremely fortunate on that front.
He tried to picture that fortune now as he watched her. As still as the first moment he had laid eyes upon her. To not even see the telltale rise and fall of her chest, something so simple that could always be trusted. Ry'ac just wanted her to breathe again.
Until then, he could only wonder what would happen next.
Found
Word spread of the death of their legendary figure. Ba'al took all the credit he deserved, of course. He would have been happier if he had the head to mount by his throne, but he'd take the victory. Use it to bolster his armies, and demoralize those of his enemies.
He was a god, after all, and he had just slain a demon.
Now was the time to push. The Yuuzhan Vong attacked him on several fronts, and not all of them were as sturdy as others. In fact, spies had noted a shift in forces, leaving one of the fringe armadas weakened. It was not a priority sector of Ba'al's territory, but pushing them back there would help to cut off other forces that assaulted his domain.
Refining his technique, Ba'al had great plans for the attack. From the results his greatest minds had formulated new theories of the Yuuzhan Vong's shielding technology, and how best to overcome the artificial singularities that they employed. It had become apparent from the kamikaze attacks was that the singularities could be overwhelmed by great amounts of energy. But, far easier at least in theory, would be to avoid them altogether. Their placement and angles could be altered quickly, but it was not instantaneous.
Perhaps, also, he had taken a few tricks from those meddlesome Tau'ri. Namely in the way of physical projectiles. Missiles served their purposes far better than the more standard energy weapons they employed.
The attack also took a line from the Yuuzhan Vong as well. A sudden and heavy assault. The three ha'taks all left hyperspace at once, and as soon as they made the main ship, each fired off one such missile. Each targeted a different portion of the ship, forcing the dovin basals to focus on separate areas, avoiding overlap. Much analysis had been done on the average distance from the Yuuzhan Vong ships that the singularities were deployed.
The missiles detonated prior to that point, at an area of maximum spread. Shaped charges, augmented with naquadah for maximum effect, kept the blast forward and wide spread. At the distance of the explosions, the singularities could not gather all of the destructive energy. Indeed, they even served to focus it by warping the trajectory of the blasts and pulling more energy towards the ship that otherwise would have continued on harmlessly. Yorik coral pitted and scorched.
Molten cannons returned fire, but not as many as one would have imagined from the surface area that faced the attacking force. A standard volley also came forth from the ha'taks, taking advantage of the dovin basals that were either fatigued or destroyed, further digging into the ship.
A second salvo of missiles obliterated the al'kesh sized ships that maneuvered to attack. The worldship began to turn to present its undamaged flank, coralskippers launching like angry gnats. A fair number of those small ships, docked to the hull like barnacles, had been destroyed in the initial attack.
Midway through the turn came another round of missiles. Nearly head on with the nose of the worldship. Less surface, less shielding. All three of the explosions were far too much for the dovin basals to absorb. Large swaths of hull simply evaporated, opening giant hulls to space. Bodies, most already dead from the heat and concussive force, and debris spilled forth.
The worldship still turned, and showed signs of life as more cannons vommitted their charges as soon as angles allowed a shot. Damage to the ha'taks' shields had been minimal, advances had been made there as well. Alternating power levels to compensate for the superheated rock that would continue to eat away long after the initial hit.
It should have fled, so plainly defeated. But the worldship made no move except to retaliate. Some more smaller ships rose from the planet, not enough in size or quantity to cause concern.
In the end the worldship hung as a dead husk. A final volley had caused moderate damage to one ha'tak, but the others were virtually untouched. Coralskippers were destroyed easily, and then the guns turned on the base begun by the Yuuzhan Vong. The newly risen buildings were turned to slag.
Found
The tactician ended his report with a tremble in his voice. "The worldship, and all assets, were destroyed. They died as true warriors."
Tsavong Lah stared out of the membrane at the burgeoning worldship he now guarded. The greatest in recent remembering. "They died as failures."
"Warmaster, they could not have anticipated..."
"It is a warrior's job to anticipate!" Tsavong roared, turning around. He began to pace. "But, it is a minor victory. The planet holds nothing for the Goa'uld, its resources are inconsequential."
All those on the bridge looked up from their duties, silent.
"The attack has separated our forces. A coordinated effort could entrap a portion of our fleet."
Tsavong Lah snarled. "This tactic may be countered?"
The tactician, fearing for his safety, was relieved to finally offer good news. "Yes, Fearsome One. Now that we are prepared, overcoming this new weapon should be simple. We may spread the dovin basals' singularities to more effectively contain the explosive forces."
It did little to improve his mood. He had erred, left this Goa'uld the opportunity for his tricks. But he would not let it happen again.
"What of the rest of our forces?" Tsavong Lah saw hesitation in the tactician. "Speak!"
"Belek tiu." Saluting sharply, the tactician continued. "There is talk of the defeat of Ntoth. That it is a portent of the gods' disfavor. The Goa'uld have also claimed her death and seem to be rallying behind it."
Overcome by rage, Tsavong Lah charged with another roar, pinning the tactician against the wall with a heavy snap. And she wasn't even dead. "She is just a tool!"
Each of his personal guard stepped forward, hands grasping weapons. No one else even dared to breathe.
"Not to them, Warmaster." He could barely draw breath around the heavy forearm that crushed his windpipe.
"The price to morale?"
"Is not insignificant."
He had doubted her usefulness at the beginning. Certainly he had doubted the shaper's little project would lead to anything salient. But the Supreme Overlord had ordered his compliance, and it seemed this convert had served a purpose after all. More than Tsavong Lah had anticipated. How could he suspect that so many would be taken so fully with her? And now the Goa'uld would be emboldened by this victory, and by her absence.
Tsavong Lah pushed harder, feeling cartilage and bone popping under his arm. The tactician wheezed, trying to pull away the constricting arm. It didn't budge, only pressing harder. One final snap had the tactician going limp in his clutches. He dropped the body to the floor.
Yes, he needed to get rid of all distractions. "Bring me the Asgard."
Found
Heimdall entered the room, one he had not been taken to before. It was the command center, the bridge, he noted immediately. Yuuzhan Vong manned stations, wore hoods he could only assumed allowed control over parts of the ship, or communication. They all took a glance at Heimdall as he came in.
He noticed also the body on the floor, the tactician still laying in a heap against the wall. Tsavong Lah stood at the transparent membrane, looking out. Heimdall followed his gaze.
It was vast. Far bigger than the ship they were now on. Far bigger than any ship he had seen the Yuuzhan Vong employ. The ovoid shape hung perilously in view. And it was still growing.
"Do you see?"
"How could I not?" Heimdall said. Certainly he saw the ship. He also saw, clearly, the meaning of the gesture. He had failed.
When Tsavong Lah turned, Heimdall could see the residual anger there. Smothered by will, but still pulling at the seams. The word was spat out with contempt. "Peace."
"It is a noble goal."
"It is the goal of the weak and cowardly. But, you shall have peace." Heimdall cocked his head. "When all submit to us. When all bow down to their masters. When the dirt turns to mud with the blood of those that stand before us. Then you shall have your peace. Not one moment sooner."
"I see," Heimdall said.
"No." Tsavong Lah moved forward, standing an arm's length away. "You will not see. Your failure brings you shame."
"I hold no shame for making the attempt." There was no shame, just sadness. He had hoped to find a way to stay the bloodshed. And that seemed not to be.
His calm reply made the Warmaster growl. For a moment he looked like he would crush Heimdall where he stood. Slowly, Tsavong Lah collected himself.
"I will break you."
"I will never submit."
Tsavong Lah chuckled. "They all submit in the end. Chanto nok yammosk."
Warriors ushered him down the corridors. When he proved too slow, one slung Heimdall over his shoulder. They took him to yet another room, shut him within and left.
Heimdall felt it even as they approached. The thickness in the air, a thudding. A great will. When his eyes laid on the great beast he knew it was the origin. The beating of its heart permeated through his own body. Dark eyes locked on dark eyes. Tentacles rippled as each appraised the other.
He could feel the yammosk's mind testing his, poking at the fringes. Trying to plant the seeds of doubt, fear, hopelessness. Heimdall saw through the manipulation. He had been alive a long time, long enough to conquer such emotions. Long enough that they couldn't so easily be toyed with. But in its attempt, he could start to see the yammosk. Into it.
A long, thin tendril worked its way up, brushed along Heimdall's arm. The creature wasn't used to resistance, and Heimdall could see clearly into its mind. Its blind trust to its handlers, its perpetual devotion to the organisms linked to it. Every dovin basal a child, and it their mother. So powerful, and yet so simple.
The yammosk jerked as if it had been burned, withdrawing its tentacle with a sharp hiss. It eyed Heimdall as he approached. He could feel its anxiety, never before having met someone who didn't fear it. The heartbeat thudding through him sped up.
"I do not wish to harm you," Heimdall said in soothing tones. The creature slid further back into the chamber, pushing its mass against the wall. He let his honest intention come through, and the creature relaxed slightly. He didn't want to hurt it, but likely that's what it would come to.
The truth often hurt. Especially when one had been blinded to it for so long.
"They wished you to unearth a truth they believed I harbored. To break me. But there is a truth I must share with you."
Heimdall reached out to the prominent vein between its eyes, felt the connection as soon as he made contact. "I am sorry."
Without a word, he told the yammosk the truth of its masters.
Found
"They are going to what?" Ry'ac blinked at Saunak as she looked over at Sam.
She sighed. "How did you think that she would be pulled from the paralysis?"
Honestly, he hadn't thought about it. But what she was suggesting, surely it was too dangerous. Adrenaline, a large burst of it to reawaken her body.
"She's still too weak," Ry'ac said.
Saunak eyed him dangerously. "She is not weak."
"But wouldn't it be better to wait a little longer. Just a few days?" Let her body rest and gather strength. Give her a chance.
"The Warmaster has commanded it, and so it will be done."
"Even if it kills her? Haven't they worked too hard to lose her to such a foolish action."
"Be silent!" Saunak's coufee was at his neck, pressed hard enough to draw a trickle of blood. Her hand shook with the fury that burned in her eyes. "I could kill you now for your insolence, boy. By the Slayer, I should. You will not disrespect the Warmaster, and you will not disrespect Calisa. If you have learned anything, you will be silent. Or you will be dead."
Slowly, every so slightly, he nodded his head. "I meant no disrespect."
She pulled the blade away and sheathed it once more, turning away as Ry'ac wiped away the smear of blood she left. He gritted his teeth as he watched. Prayed that it would not go as he feared.
The shapers removed the vranith. Then without further prelude one of them stepped forward and injected her in the chest with one sharp motion. Sam jolted and arched her back sharply. She sucked in half of a desperate breath.
The scream was raw, excruciating. Almost ephemeral as she quickly ran out of air. Ry'ac closed his eyes, overcome by the way she writhed. Shrieking between frantic breaths. As though she had been holding it the entire time she was under, finally giving voice to all she had endured.
Ry'ac's eyes snapped open as the sound cut off. Sam lay still once more.
"Is she?" Ry'ac started forward but Saunak stopped him from taking more than a step.
The adept knelt down and examined her briefly. "Unconscious."
Relief nearly had his legs giving out.
Found
Tentacles slapped down accompanied by a keening wail. The yammosk shrieked in rage, in grief. It meant nothing to the masters. Its children even less. The creature had shown it, how the masters would have sacrificed every last child, every last yammosk for their personal glory. They were tools. Pawns. Disposable.
Now the wail turned into a roar, tentacles slamming down against the wall. Cracks quickly formed in the coral against the frenzied assault. When a crack grew wide enough, the yammosk sank its giant tooth into it, tearing at the hole with its giant maw. Limbs continued to batter against the wall. Continued to tear away pieces.
Connected to the dovin basals, to the coralskipper pilots, the yammosk ordered them to attack the ship, to open fire. Pilots were trained to heed the yammosk without question, to allow the units to fly as one single mind. They complied before realizing what they were doing. Each one hit the worldship, but the damage was minimal, their cannons too small to hurt the larger ship in any significant way.
Meanwhile the yammosk had made a hole about the width of a person into the corridor. Like an octopus, it squeezed its huge mass through the small hole. Warriors lined the corridor who had come to investigate the commotion. Halfway through the hole, tentacles whipped out, slamming warriors against the wall. Grabbing bodies and hurling them at others. Tearing them in half. Still roaring. Keening. Mad with grief.
Found
"What is this?" Tsavong Lah looked out of the membrane as the ship gave a small tremor. "Where are the enemy ships?"
The warrior assigned to sensors spoke. "Warmaster, there are none. Our own coralskippers have attacked us."
Now the small ships flew around, looking confused. Some still attacked the worldship. Others attacked each other.
"Recall the long range patrols. Someone is out there."
"None of our ships sense any other presence."
Tsavong Lah snarled. This outrage was too much to bear. "What is the cause of this?"
A warrior burst into the room, panting. "Forgive me, Warmaster. The yammosk attacks."
"What?"
"It has gone wild and broken free of its chamber. It attacks all that oppose it."
"No!" How had he done it? The yammosks were loyal, bred for it. The Asgard couldn't have turned it. And yet... "Tell the pilots not to follow the commands of the yammosk. Destroy any who attack the Kel Skerr or our charge. Neutralize the yammosk. Kill it! End this!"
Found
Sections sealed to try to contain the yammosk, but it barely hindered the creature's progress. It would break through walls or ceilings, whatever gave way first. Tentacles streaked out, grabbing anything in sight whether it fought or fled. Roaring and hissing all the while.
The handler who had trained it since its spawning hung limp in one tentacle, long since suffocated in the vicious grasp. He had hoped to placate the yammosk, and instantly realized his error.
Coralskippers stopped responding and the yammosk gave another shriek. Warriors threw thud bugs, sliced at limbs with amphistaffs, but it only crazed the yammosk further. Hundreds of tentacles, some too thick to hack through cleanly. At that rate it wouldn't be stopped until it had torn apart half of the ship.
To speed that end, the yammosk worked the dovin basals themselves. Coralskippers grabbed other coralskippers, collapsing each other into minute particles. Killing dovin basals, but the yammosk was far beyond any sort of reason. The only thing that existed was revenge.
Found
Dorak stood beside the Warmaster, the current situation demanded his vigilance. He listened to the calls from tacticians, marking the yammosk's progress through the ship. Injured, but still going strong. It would not stop until dead, and it would not die quickly.
"I want it dead!" Tsavong Lah roared the order, snapping his cloak as he whipped across the floor. Dorak paced him evenly, a silent shadow.
He had to protect his Warmaster. Both his honor and his life.
"By your leave, Warmaster," Dorak said, "I will kill the beast."
Tsavong Lah stopped, gave a sharp nod. "Go."
Dorak was streaking down the halls before the Warmaster had a chance to turn around. Even at a distance he could hear the cries of the yammosk, greater still than the cries of terror of the Yuuzhan Vong he ran through. Those that did not give way to Dorak he knocked to the ground, crushed beneath his heel. Shapers, shamed ones, priests. Cowards, all of them. They should have stood and fought for their Warmaster, for their glory.
Finally he came to a group of warriors, pushed back by tentacles that slapped down the halls. They continued to throw their thud bugs, to swipe at ones that got too close. Dorak could see that many tendrils had lost considerable length, splashing dark blood as they flexed and snapped. Some of the creature's roars now were of pain.
"Seal the corridor," Dorak said.
"It will not hold the yammosk."
It didn't have to. Not for long. Dorak sliced with his amphistaff, taking several more feet off of a medium tentacle. The amputated hunk continued to writhe. "Do it, and be gone."
Dorak continued to attack and parry, keeping the yammosk at bay. Waiting until the area was sealed, protected from the rest of the ship. As the sphincters sealed shut, the yammosk gave another roar.
"Do-ro'ik vong pratte." Dorak took a breath, triggering the bo'tous spores implanted in his lungs. Exhaling, the bo'tous quickly propegated in the air, turning the world an inky black. He heard the stunned hiss of the yammosk. An agonized shriek. Holding his breath, he felt the tentacle wrap around his obsidian armor, cracking the shell.
Dorak was lifted up, but he didn't notice it through the emotions that assailed him. Rage, so much rage. And grief so thick it smothered. He felt the yammosk's despair. Was crippled by it. It was too much to bear. To escape it, he breathed in as deeply as the creature's death grip would allow.
Dorak's body burned in unimaginable agony as the spores filled his body. His blood turned thick, veins darkening as they clogged. Bloodshot eyes bulged. The last thing he saw was the yammosk's dark eyes staring into his as the creature hissed its final breath.
Closing his eyes, Dorak was assured that his death had been a glorious one.
Found
Tsavong Lah walked through the damage, the carnage. Blood smeared what remained of walls. He eyed it all coldly, the rage simmering into a heavy rock in his chest. The Asgard had been far more than he anticipated. Another mistake. One that cost his right hand. Kyrith shadowed him now, promoted to subcommander, and leader of the honor guard.
Skilled surely, but yet to prove himself in the way of his predecessor.
The tactician saluted stiffly.
"Losses," Tsavong Lah ordered.
"Two hundred coralskippers and pilots were lost. Fifty more of the ships heavily damaged and beyond repair, they are being fed back to the worldship even now. The damage to the worldship hull is negligible, and the interior devastation will take many days to repair. Casualties within the ship number in the hundreds, not all have yet been counted. Estimates are between two and four hundred."
Tsavong Lah stepped through the hole to the yammosk chamber. He eyed the broken corpse staring blankly at the ceiling.
"Clever runt." He sneered down at the dead Asgard. "Deceptive. This mistake will not be repeated, rest assured."
Tsavong Lah motioned to the body as he left. "Bring it."
