Nine
Politics
Martouf stepped forward. Immediately leather dressed security men ran up and seized him. They shoved him along roughly, overzealously, into a grey building before them. He could feel the electricity and hear it buzzing through everything there. They were obviously somewhat advanced. The men pushed him along to the front desk and asked to see the sergeant.
As they waited there he noticed a man in a grey suit at the end of the desk, standing almost on the other side of it and talking to one of the receptionists in a very serious and quiet though friendly manner. The man soon noticed him watching and walked over intent on greeting him. The security men warned the man about him but he brushed them off politely and told them to let go of Martouf.
"Welcome to Tollana. Are you in need of food and medical attention?"
"Yes, thank you," he replied.
"I'll have it arranged. I am Narim."
"Martouf," he said wearily.
"How did you bypass our gate security without sending a signal?"
"I haven't any idea."
The men handed Martouf's belongings over to Narim.
"Furthermore you brought a Goa'uld weapon and communicator… " his expression turned hostile and Narim shared a look with the sergeant who had appeared next to him.
"I am not Goa'uld."
Narim addressed Martouf again, "Whoever you are, I'm sorry we can't be more hospitable to you. Under the circumstances, you understand, that's completely out of the question," he handed Martouf's things to the sergeant and left the building.
"You're under arrest," said the sergeant and ordered that the security men lock him up.
They bowed in salute and walked Martouf down to a quiet, small and dark cell. He didn't argue, just lay on the cot and fell asleep.
Martouf awoke in a modern, cream coloured apartment, minimalist in design with small red glass sculptures and indoor plants, though sterile the place was also beautiful somehow.
He flexed his heavy hands, looking over the sores where splinters had been removed and saw a doctor sitting nearby and two guards at the door.
"We have implanted you with a health monitor" the doctor said standing up to examine Martouf's eyes, "it will not cause you harm so don't try to remove it."
He found the shiny onyx device set into his left forearm and ran his fingertips over it. After the doctor left he moved a chair to the centre of the room and sat watching the doors and windows, waiting alert and ready for the next player that might show up there to see him.
As he sat and waited he began to remember things. He remembered standing guard in a lavish courtyard within the walls of the mayor's city mansion. He'd had five minuted until he was to come off duty and he'd noticed a woman watching him, half concealed by one of the courtyard walls. She was very beautiful, petite with long thick black hair, almost black eyes and olive skin. Desamina, his closest colleague's love.
She crossed the courtyard to him in delicate slippers and began to say his name softy when he cut her off.
"You are intended."
"That was before I saw you," she said closing the distance to kiss him. He pushed her away, not wanting to get involved in a scandal that could blow his cover.
We don't want to be constantly watching our back for a murderous boyfriend.
That's when his young partner turned up to see them standing so close and the look of proud guilt on Desamina's face sealed it. Elio pulled out a dagger and punched Lantash with the fist enclosed around it.
That evening the High Chancellor Travell payed him the honour of a visit. A woman wearing a black hooded cloak over a plain dress, with grey hair a pleasant enough face but for her steely eyes. They exchanged greetings and formalities as she entered and she dismissed the guards.
"I wasn't trying to come here. Not on purpose anyway," he began to explain.
Travell seemed not to hear what he was saying and chastised him, "Needless to say, I am very unhappy about your incident with security today. Try to be more discrete" she spat out.
Interesting, thought Lantash.
"Scans picked up your Goa'uld message ready to transmit to Anubis. You have put me out. You are in big trouble!"
Lantash, do not-
"Really?" he shot, eyes glowing.
"Take your stupid device," she said throwing the communicator at him, "you will not find anything amiss here."
So it was her who had us relocated from the jail.
Travell stomped to the door but he blocked her path, "I already have."
He noticed her hand move to a weapon hidden in her cloak as she avoided his hard stare.
She will take, Lantash.
"That is… unless you contact the Tok'ra on my behalf."
He let his words hang in the air then let her go and stepped aside. She stood completely still for a long moment then walked out.
That was very stupid.
She was too confident. Why did she take so long to talk to us, Martouf? Because she had to hide the evidence of whatever she's been up to or fix something and then wait a few days to make sure her rushing over here wouldn't seem suspicious to anyone. Overconfident.
Ren'al worked all night on the data sent from the Tollan doctor and reported her findings before dawn.
"With no way detect if he is a zatarc…" she said to a thoughtful Garshaw.
"I don't like this," Garshaw said, then was very silent. "Proceed," she concluded.
Ren'al bowed and headed to the storerooms to prepare for departure.
The next day started painfully slowly from the time he woke early in the morning, showered, had breakfast, watched the city for hours from the balcony and then lay down on the sofa to watch the front door since the apartments computers were disabled. Not that he was locked in anymore, he just didn't want to miss out on any information that might come his way. Finally, when he couldn't take it anymore and was about to go out for a walk through the city, he began to remember what had happened after Elio had seen him and Desamina.
"We don't have to, but if you feel the need to fight awhile-" Lantash had started but it was too late, he had to block Elio's slash and kicked in Elio's shin. Elio managed to grab Lantash's tunic and punch him in the stomach and Lantash kicked away the dagger before delivering a back handed blow, the last coherent move as the fight dissolved into a dusty scramble.
They both froze at the sound of many arming staff weapons and looked up at the roving squad sent to relieve them, its commander standing over them with a zat at their heads. They released each other and stood abruptly to attention, Lantash's face covered in dirt and grit, Elio with a bloody nose.
Elio was allowed to explain himself first.
"He is a sholva," he said out of spite.
"What do you have to say to this charge?" asked the commander re-aiming his weapon from Elio's to Lantash's face.
"He is simply jealous because his fiancé came to-"
"Desamina is from a respectable family, he would dishonour…"
Elio shut his mouth as the commander trained his zat back onto him, "Enough said. Take him before Lord Kaya," he ordered and the guards arrested Lantash and had escorted him back to the fort.
His mind refused to give him any more so Lantash got up and walked over to the full length windows. Sensing another person in the room he turned.
"I can hardly believe you stand before me," said the Tok'ra woman with studying eyes.
She looked slightly older than him. The last time he was home Dr Ren'al had looked younger though they were of the same age.
How long could we have been gone? he wondered again looking over her two male accompanying Tok'ras.
"Nice tan," she said.
Lantash rolled his eyes.
"How'd you get away so easily?"
He spoke slowly to make sure she would understand the first time, "It. Wasn't. easy."
She changed the subject, "Lovely place you have here, very…" she searched for the right word, "warm," she said looking over the traditional glass ornaments placed strategically around the living room.
Warm, Martouf mused.
"You need to get out more," he said, although he admitted to himself that he was starting to like Tollana's atmosphere.
"I only wish there were a zatarc test." She shot back.
Lantash almost told her how little her manners had ever improved… yet thought the better of it. She, after all, was his only chance to make any return to the Tok'ra. He was fairly disturbed, is it just her or do we Tok'ra all come off that callous?
Outside the sun shined brightly and as they left the city square and walked on smooth grey paths through vivid greens to the gate he noticed her pensive.
"What troubles you?" he asked enjoying the fresh air and blue sky as he walked leisurely beside her.
"Nothing in particular," she replied wryly.
"What out of particular then?"
"Things are not progressing, as usual. Mostly its the feeling that we're all treading water. That things, in fact, look better than they are… and you know well enough how they look."
"I do."
"We are a dying race," she said tracking the path with her eyes.
Lantash's eyes sparkled at that, how melodramatic.
She stepped up onto the DHD's platform but he pulled her aside before she pressed the second symbol. With nervous urgency in his tone he finally broached the subject. "How is my mate?"
"I checked with the council before I came, we do not know her whereabouts at the moment," the sympathy was clear in her words.
He took a step backwards.
"There is an ashrak following her. Nevertheless, she will return." She surmised with a reverence in her eyes that all Tok'ra had for Jolinar.
"And, since, you have heard nothing," he said quietly, swallowing.
We're finally going home and she won't be there.
"Where was she last?" he demanded, already forming a plan of action in his mind.
"I won't tell you."
"I'm going to find out!"
"And then what? She wont be there or have left any clues. Lantash, there is no point in us arguing this out."
Knowing it was true he stood in a daze unable to move because he felt so useless. She dialled the rest of the address and stood by it facing him until he managed to walk through.