Where are we?

Kianna didn't have to wonder very long. Netty knew. They were lying down, bathed in a serene, peaceful glow of pure white.

The last thing she remembered was seeing the knife flying toward her. But she felt well; even the bumps and bruises from being kicked around were gone with not a trace of pain remaining.

Like it or not, she was awake and alive for whatever Ba'al had in store.

We must have died. Clearly faster than he intended.

Despite the circumstances, she could not help feeling some relief at being alive, and Kianna felt the same way. Though leaving her dead would doubtless have been more merciful, she could not actually bring herself to wish for it. At least, not yet. There was some part of a person that always clung to life.

Perhaps at some point, if they were lucky, Ba'al would make a worse mistake, damage the brain too much for the sarcophagus to repair, or wait too long to revive her for it to be effective. However, she had the feeling he had just made the one mistake he was going to make, and he would be more careful from here on out.

Now that they were awake, of course, the sarcophagus knew that its work was finished, and it was already beginning to open. The faces of several of Ba'al's Jaffa leered down at her.

Netty knew suddenly as with a flash of foresight that as long as she had her rational mind, she would never covet this device again.

The Jaffa hauled her up and out of the box.

They were in the terraces, of course, in that same open-air place adjacent to the baths. She could no longer see the mothership overhead and supposed it might be in orbit.

The only person nearby whom she recognized was Nike, obviously just there to rub it in. She wasn't in charge of these Jaffa, but she evidently liked to pretend that she was.

"Take the prisoner back to the rings," she said gleefully, but they were already doing it anyway.

Four Jaffa picked up the sarcophagus, two at either end.

"Hey…! What are you doing?" Nike protested.

"Ba'al has need of it," explained the lead Jaffa.

"But you can't—everyone here—this place will fall apart without it!" She carried on, but they ignored her protests and carried the sarcophagus behind them at the back of their procession out of the terraces. They passed through the baths and the gardens.

Netty tried to take in the scenery, the beautiful white tiles, the blue sky. She wished she could enjoy it more. They left the terraces and came under the trees again, and onto the white pebble path.

She looked up. Up at the trees and the pretty houses and bridges, mostly spots against the sun in the daylight. Small figures walked back and forth, ignoring her plight. But there was one figure up there, a slave, stopped at a railing, staring down at her like she was the most interesting sight in the world.

And in a heartbeat she recognized him.

Jonas.

Jonas?!

He escaped. How did he escape? Surely we weren't dead for twelve whole days…!

We can't have been. And he's gotten free somehow and he's still HERE. I think he WANTED us to see him.

Kianna and Netty, in their agreement on the subject, were both thrown into turmoil. Surely this could only make things worse. Why wasn't he leaving? Did he want to be captured too?

But Kianna's thoughts betrayed her. Of course he did escape. Or did we forget that he used to be a member of SG-1 for the Tau'ri? And we all know that nothing can hold those people down. Not for more than a minute.

Damn it, was Netty's response. You've got a point. How did I really think that was going to work? Those people are unstoppable.

SG-1 had something more than skill, and something more than training. They had some force on their side which, to the rest of the universe anyway, bore the appearance of concentrated, pure, raw luck.

He got free. She couldn't stop thinking it. He got free, he got free, he got free. How did he get free? She didn't know what he was doing, but he was just out there, walking around. It was all she could think about, and she wasn't sure she wanted to think about anything else.

What was happening in the present certainly didn't bear contemplating.

"I sent you to that planet to find out what made Anubis so interested in it," said Ba'al. "What did you find?"

He had been asking her variations on this same question for the last half hour, while poking her with the end of a long stick, something similar to an electric cattle prod. He had also brought in a chair to sit in, and he had his boots crossed high in front of him. She was chained to the bullhorns again, so that she was forced to stand, and could not even sink to her knees out of exhaustion.

He touched the thing to her bare shoulder. The cold metal prongs pressed against her skin, not even activated, but it was bad enough not knowing if or when he would turn it on. She flinched away.

"What did you find on Kelowna?" he asked. Strange, of all things, she should focus on his political incorrectness.

"Langara."

"What?"

"It's called Langara."

"Ah, she speaks again! Hello there." He waved a hand back and forth. "It's me, Ba'al."

Netty again resumed silence.

"Who do you work for?" demanded Ba'al, standing up, slightly frustrated. "What Goa'uld is powerful enough to scare you into silence before me?" He must have then realized his question answered itself, because he fell back to his seat almost immediately.

"What makes you think I work for anyone?" answered Ophrenet tartly. It was one of her few remaining points of pride.

The cattle prod activated.

Netty gave a short scream before clenching her teeth together again.

"What did you find on Langara, then?"

She knew, of course, the real reason Anubis had been interested in the planet. It was the Naquadria, a rare natural resource; and if Ba'al ever found out about its existence, he would invade without delay.

"Whatever it is, you will not keep it for yourself," he said matter-of-factly, before getting up and prodding her in the side. Another explosion of pain darted through her body.

Sleep. Netty's voice spoke in her head, and a heavy force pressed down on her mind.

That was the last thing Kianna remembered for some time.

Kianna became dimly and slowly aware that she hurt all over.

Forgive me, said Ophrenet. I am no longer strong enough to repress your consciousness.

That was very kind of you, she started to reply, and then was unable to hold much other conversation, finding that the more she gained consciousness, the more it hurt.

It was no wonder Netty could not suppress her any longer; the pain bore down so strongly she was unable to keep track of a thought long enough to string a second one after it, and the ones she did have repeated on loop until the end drifted from the beginning and she felt herself beginning to fragment.

Where is Jonas?

Where is Jonas?

Where… ?

She was still chained to the bullhorns, slumping uncomfortably, except Ba'al had evidently gotten bored of the cattle prod and moved on to other things. She was bleeding in several places, and one of her arms was now hanging limply at a very awkward angle. This was what was causing her the most pain at the moment.

I am no longer strong enough to resist Ba'al either.

What? What, Netty, no!

Netty's disappointment in herself was palpable. I will break any moment now, she said.

No! Netty, you can't. Put me in control.

What good will that do? The only reason you are saying that is because you haven't been here for the last several hours. You will reach this point eventually.

She made a great effort to pull herself together. Just give me my body back. If you can't keep our mouth shut, I will keep it shut for you.

Netty had no further argument, and acquiesced, at least for the time being.

"What did you find on Kelowna?"

She tried to absorb the state of the room she was being held in. There was blood on the floor. There was Ba'al. She was no longer sure exactly what he was threatening her with, as he wasn't holding any weapons of any sort.

"I don't know," Kianna lied, and her throat rasped humanly. "I am the host."

"The host?!" Ba'al put into his tone and manner an air of faux astonishment. He laughed loudly. "You are the host, really? Is that true? Then Ophrenet is not just a murderer and a thief, but a coward, as well, I see. No matter. She cannot stop herself from feeling your pain."

Ba'al gave a small jerk on the chain holding her right arm, and Kianna squirmed vigorously as a scream forced itself out of her lungs.

It was worth a try.

"I'll ask you again. What did you find on Kelowna that compelled you to stay there for over a year?"

Not again. Surely there is some lie… Kianna strained for an idea. That won't interest him enough… to invade. If only she could think.

It was Netty who had a lightbulb moment.

Or… some truth.

Oh Netty no, you don't mean…

Kianna was so distracted that she almost didn't notice that the doors were open. And that for some reason, they were being held open. But Ba'al wasn't reacting, so it must not have been anything important.

Netty had already taken her body. "In Kelowna," she said, and the rasp sounded even worse when she attempted the symbiote intonation, but she had to, in order to prove that it was herself speaking. "I found… love."

"Love?" Ba'al laughed. She hated his laugh. "And you call yourself a Goa'uld. You think I believe that? Love is nothing more than the chemical drive to reproduce, and even that is vestigial in an infertile specimen such as yourself." He shook his finger, as if thinking. "You simply can't be serious. You've gone mad. It must be time for the sarcophagus."

"My Lord Ba'al."

It was the voice of a woman Goa'uld, although she wasn't immediately sure which one.

"What?" he sounded mildly irritated. "What is it? Ophrenet hasn't said a word in hours, I was just getting some sort of confession, and you have to interrupt. What?"

"My Lord, I am here to contest Nike's appointment as regent of this planet."

It took her a moment, but she did piece that together. The Goa'uld was Hecate, and the person next to her was… she raised her head by a fraction. Another woman, standing just behind Hecate. Circe was there too.

Why does everyone have to come to watch? Netty thought dully. However, they ignored her.

"I was Ashtoreth's most faithful servant," Hecate droned on in the background of her pain. "I have served her with great proficiency for many years, successfully filtering out all traitors and spies from our ranks. I think it is only fair to say that I have earned this position."

She's got a point, Netty found herself thinking.

Ba'al made a disgusted noise. He looked at her, then back at his visitors, then back at her. "Politics," he said disparagingly, then walked out of the room. The doors closed on him, Hecate, and Circe.

She was alone.

And still in a great deal of pain, unfortunately.

It had been at least three hours more, alone, chained to the bullhorns, but Kianna felt like it had been much longer. Conversation was sparse between herself and her symbiote. They were both too exhausted to think much, and sunk into a dissociated torpor.

Their current state was their only rest. If and when Ba'al came back, he'd probably send them to the sarcophagus, which was on board the ship now, then it would begin all over again.

She groaned and screwed her eyes shut as the doors slid open.

Someone rushed towards her. Her chains rattled and she gasped at the agitation, however slight, of her broken arm.

"Stop… please…"

"Ophrenet." A cool hand gripped her chin, and raised it up. "Look at me."

She opened one eye in surprise.

"My name is Circe. My host's name is Katarina. I am Tok'ra."