Mother-In-Law
Chapter 8
In Ruins
The pull through the wormhole is different this time, a little longer, a little louder, but this is an ancient planet out on the border of the butt crack of the universe. Stuck in a gate formation that not only do people never travel to anymore, but most off-Earthers have never even heard of.
When he takes a step out, Jacek standing at his side, the first thing he notices is the strong stench of sulfur. It creeps it's way into his nose and smothers his lungs, making him dry heave.
"That's the smell 2000 years of war will earn you." Jacek steps forward. If he's bothered by the stench, he doesn't show it because he has the same smile slapped onto his face.
Anat's place is unwelcoming.
It's nestled in the middle of some rock formation, so there are crags bordering the place on every side—it feels claustrophobic, and he tries not to imagine Vala here for the last few weeks, let alone the extended time she spent here as Qetesh—he can only view the sky by looking straight up and instead of blue, or gray, or black, it's a sickly orange with a hue of purple stuck to it, like the planet is always caught in the middle of a stormy sunset.
The building itself looks to be gold, but Jacek must be reading his thoughts because he points to the nearest wall with an uneven steppingstone construction and speckled with bits of hieroglyphs and symbols. "That's limestone, not gold, believe me I've tried to pass it off as gold, and wound up almost losing my hand for it."
"I love these chats with you—" he almost addresses Jacek as dad, but he's afraid the man might not know his brand of sarcasm and embrace the familial link. Or even worse, know the blatant sarcasm and instead choose to ignore it, using his own words against him.
Once they reach the bottom of the pathway, one that's worn by time, but that he can imagine once looked spectacular, the very uniform yellow bricks give away to stone that looks almost like marble with some light brown color bursting through it. The trees and shrubs all around are unkempt, growing in every direction, but some still have massive flowers with fat petals and curling centers in colors so vivid they don't seem real.
There are stains on the wall, and fabric placards or flags that have tears of material out of them. A faded pattern runs across all the walls in a light blue chain, and it just looks like the room needs a fresh coat of paint and an hour from the Home and Garden channel.
"Don't let it fool you." Again, Jacek must sense what he's thinking, or maybe he's gawking too much at the vastness of it all—he's never been in a Goa'uld stronghold before—it looks lost in time. "She keeps this room ragged so—"
With their next step, a dozen or more guards show up, dressed in gold plated armor where he would wear football padding, and not much else—but they do have a whole whack of those nasty shooting spears aimed directly at them, making him set his P90—that's only got half a round in it for show—on the ground, as Jacek shoots his hands in the air.
"Hey now, Fellas," he does that nervous chuckle as a dozen weapons lock on him and charge, "is that anyway to treat an old friend?"
As one of the guards steps forward, the others raise their shields and collect in a 'v' formation—something he's seen in ancient history textbook, and never in real life—the central one, aims his spear, but lowers his shield just slightly.
"State your business, Jacek."
"I just wanna see the old ball and chain is all," Jacek tries to play it cool, but his fingers are flicking off each other so quick in a nervous tick that he might actually start a fire.
"You know you are not to arrive unless Anat has summoned you—" The guard, who is all muscles, speaks in a deep but level voice, stating facts like a cop might to someone who violated parole.
"I know, I just heard that—"
The guard, obviously finished with whatever story Jacek is weaving, turns directly to him. "You. Who are you?"
"I'm Colonel Cameron Mitch—"
"This is my son-in-law." Jacek claps a hand to his shoulder with a goofy grin, and sort of sways his body. "Vala's husband, we heard that she dropped in for a visit."
"I do not know what you are referring to." It's the guard's turn to play dumb, and man, if they added up the amount of stupidity just in this room—
"Vala? My daughter, she's about yay high." Jacek chops his hand through the air at roughly Vala's height, which is a little impressive since they've barely spent any time together in the last five years. "She's got long, dark hair, and the prettiest gray eyes you ever did see—" the guards remain unvoiced, not knowing who Jacek is speaking off, not even a mutter floating around. "She talks funny? Heavily, heavily pregnant from what I hear—which id due to this big lug—"
Before Jacek shoulder claps him again, he steps to the side, alarming the guards who once again snap into defensive mode. As a sign of good nature, he shows the palms of his hands are empty, and says one of the words he hates to say the most. "Qetesh."
"Qetesh is here." Confirms the central guard with a nod. "What business do you have with her?"
"He's her—"
He steps forward, trying to physically distance himself more from Jacek, who they obviously don't take as a threat, ignoring his so called 'father-in-law' trying to reign him back in. "I'm her first prime."
His answer creates a bulk of silence, before the central guard repeats, "first prime?"
"Yes."
"Then where is your mark?"
"We haven't gotten to that yet."
"Reuniting with Qetesh will require the approval of Our Great Lord Anat."
Jacek is giving him the 'kill it' sign, literally chopping his hand over his own throat trying to get his attention and his compliance. He didn't think he'd be the one to go off script, but in a way, he knew he would do it for her.
"Then take me to your Great Lord Anat."
The central guard nods in compliance, sort of bowing back, and the other guards swarm around him like synchronized swimming, in a different formation before filing through the room containing them as they walk into the palace.
"Oh Boy," Jacek is actively sweating beside him, as they fall in step, abandoning his gun where he left it on the ground. "You've really done it now."