A/N #1: Thank you to all those who have read and reviewed, favorited and followed this story. A special thanks to those of you who stuck with the original version of this story through my slow posting schedule and are still interested enough to come read this rewrite. My posting schedule should, hopefully, be a lot more frequent and a lot more consistent. I read all your comments, and they are very encouraging to me as a writer.

A/N #2: These first couple of chapters are not from Daniel's POV to give some background information on Sujanha and the Furlings, which will help set the stage for what is to come. We'll get to Daniel's POV in two chapters, after which there will be some back-and-forth, clearly marked, in POV.


27th of Xuxiq, Fall, 6544 A.S.
(c. March 9, 1998)
Uslisgas, Asteria

The hour had grown very late by the time Sujanha retired to the small room off her office, which was just big enough for a bed and a chair, to sleep. There had been many messages and reports to deal with after her return from Gaia. She had sent the relevant information on Doctor Jackson's asylum case to Chief Judge Kadar for his appraisal before (the hoped for) meeting the next day, updated her brother on the day's event, and had a message sent to Othala for Thor that she needed to speak with him sooner rather than later. If he has more dealings with the Midgardians, he needs to know what their government—or rather that of the United States—is doing. That such a government has control over the Stargate … it was a troubling thought. Some fleet business had also risen in her absence, and by the time all those things were dealt with, it was hours past the usual time Sujanha retired to rest.

(It might even have been the early hours of the next day by that point, but Sujanha had resolutely avoided looking at the clock. If it was actually the wee hours of the 27th and not the last hours of the 26th by the time she collapsed into bed, she did not want to know.)

The faint morning sun that found its way in through the single frosted glass window in her 'bedroom' woke the Supreme Commander early on the morning of the 27th. Seconds after rousing from a light sleep, Sujanha immediately wished that she had not, in fact, woken up. Her good days, when the lasting effects of her near fatal poisoning plagued her the least, were few and far between … and growing rarer as the years dragged on. It was the one curse of the long-lived races that she could live with her illness for almost 500 years, almost a third of her entire life-span.

But 500 years of pain … it took a toll on the body … and the mind.

Sujanha remembered what her strength and her vitality had been like Before, remembered having the energy to run and jump and chase her age-mates on Drehond and on Uslisgas for those few short years before she had been sent away for her own safety, remembered walking or sitting for hours without pain, actually regularly having an appetite for food. It was hard, some days, to keep going, to fight through the pain. She was so tired of being a burden, tired of being in pain, tired of being weak, of having to plan every outing, every day's events to make sure she could function through it, of facing a future of pain for whatever little time she had left.

She was also tired of being tired of being in pain. 500 years had brought her a sense of resigned acceptance to her chronic pain and weakness … but only rarely peace.

All that meant that Sujanha was sometimes a bit … foolhardy … on her good days. Most of those days, she enjoyed to the fullest, wanting to take advantage of the rare moments of feeling better … but ended up overdoing it anyway so that she felt twice as bad as usual the day after. Her guards, her healers, her aids, they all scolded her and remonstrated with her for being foolish, for overdoing it, for overspending her precious reserves of strength.

And Sujanha always wanted to snap back at them, "You don't know what it's like," but always held her tongue. There was no time for her temper, no time for her own self-pity, no time for her to dwell on her own weakness … more than she already did.

There was work to be done, and even when fleet business and her sense of duty were the only reasons that she had the drive to drag herself from bed to face another day, she still had to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

The bone-deep aches that had been building in her limbs the night before were now several times as bad. Every muscle ached. Even her bones ached, or so it seemed. Her joints throbbed with agony. It felt like bones fragment scraping together or the pain of fire-needles shoved into her joints. The usually supportive pressure of her leg-braces made the pain in her legs worse, exacerbated the muscle cramps.

(It was a painful irony that if she had any hope of being on her feet today, those braces would be a painful necessity.)

Today will not be a good day.

And of course, there is a Council meeting.

More fuel for that fire when they see me.

With an effort, Sujanha weakly shoved aside the blankets and then tried to push herself up so she could lean back against the wall. She did not even make it half-way to a sitting position before the muscles in her weak right arm cramped, and she fell back with a muffled groan onto the bed. It took another effort just to fight back the tears of pain and sheer frustration both, and she bit her lip, one long tooth sinking deep into her skin until blood hit her tongue, trying to bite back a moan.

"Computer, what hour is it?" Sujanha bit out through gritted teeth. The taste of her own blood made her stomach roll.

"Just past the 5th hour, Supreme Commander," came the bland, emotionless voice, a copy of the same AI program that ran in her house. "May I be of assistance?"

"Is anyone in the outer office?"

"Ruarc is present," was the immediate reply.

The loyalty of her bodyguards was touching beyond belief. Though she had dismissed them for the night … at a more reasonable if still late hour … like she had every night that she stayed at Headquarters, they always willfully ignored her dismissal. Either Ruarc or Ragnar stayed and slept on a cot in the outer office or made sure there was another guard nearby.

"Call him in."

"Acknowledged," the AI's voice was bland, flat.

A minute passed with agonizing slowness. Then the door chime rang perfunctorily, and a few seconds afterward the door between Sujanha's office and her sleeping chamber slid open, and Ruarc appeared. He had obviously just woken up from the way he was blinking and smoothing out the wrinkles in his clothes, but his assessing gaze raked over her as soon as he stepped inside.

"Commander?" Ruarc questioned, pausing politely just inside the doorway.

"Help me sit up," Sujanha bit out, trying to keep the pain from harshening her tone. The last thing she wanted was for him to think she was angry.

Quick steps brought Ruarc to her bedside—the room was small and his stride quite large, given his height—and he crouched beside her in one smooth movement. With the help of his strong, non-pained, non-quivering muscles, Sujanha could finally sit up and lean back against the pillows that Ruarc quickly moved and shoved between her back and the wall.

"You overdid it yesterday," Ruarc noted. It was a statement, not a question.

Are you going to fuss?

"No remonstrating?"

Ruarc ducked his head and gave a shallow bow. (If he had been a Zukish, he probably would have looked sheepish.) "No, Commander. My brother and I have said it all before, and besides …" He paused, "We were concerned, too."

I'm surprised that stopped you. You've certainly redone the same argument over before.

Sujanha was silent for a few moments then, catching her breath now that she was upright and then breathing through another cramp that raced like fire up her right leg. Her eyes watered with the pain, and she bit her lip again to hold back a gasp of pain. Breath through it. You've had worse. "It grieves me to wake you so early since it was late when we finished, but I must trouble you to call for my healer."

My gauntlets are out of reach, and Kaja is easier to reach through private channels.

"Your personal healer or an imperial healer?" Ruarc asked, pushing himself back to his feet. He wasn't wearing his gauntlets either, Sujanha noticed at the moment. They must be in the other room … with his jacket … and belt. Her bodyguard had removed his outer layers to sleep and was only dressed in a tunic and trousers.

"Kaja, please," Sujanha replied, "Of all the days to have a Council meeting in just over four hours. To have a hope of being on my feet, I will need her skill."

"Of course," Ruarc bowed and retreated to the outer office, leaving the doors open between the rooms so that he would hear if she called out.

Sujanha let her eyes fall shut once he had stepped out, tuning out the indistinct sound of his voice that followed. (She knew him well enough to guess that he would not only be calling for Kaja but also rousing his brother and, probably, at least one of her aids at the same time. That was one of the major problems of working for her: as much as she tried to minimize the impact on them, when she kept irregular at Headquarters, so did her staff.) She was so tired. Not just physically tired, but also mentally tired. Breathe. Just breathe. That will help. The pain on a bad day was almost indescribable. It felt like fire needles in her joints, fire in her veins, fire that raced up and down her muscles, a pain that would never fully go away no matter how strong the medicine was that Kaja brewed. Nothing worked completely. Nothing could bring her relief.

At least it is not as bad as before … those awful hours and days when she lay dying, or so she thought, in the private ward of the mercy ship, feeling like she was burning alive, even the gentlest touches bringing agony.

That was a depth of pain that Sujanha was sure nothing else could touch. The Great Enemy had gotten skilled at ensuring that their victims would suffer and that death tolls would be high by that point in the war. It was not so to the same extent earlier in the war, so they say. Death in those hours would have been a profound relief.

And living with the consequences … that, too, was a struggle.

There is work to be done.

Just deal with it.

She had devoted the best years of her life, her strength, and her health to the safety and security of the empire. She was content with her choices, would be honored after her death for her life's work. None of that made it any easier to remember all that she had lost for the sake of the empire and to the age that the Great War had overshadowed.

My health.

My family.

My poor brother-son.

War and fighting had been her life's work. War had overshadowed all her years since her childhood, before she had ever joined the military. The war had separated her from her family, necessitated her being raised apart from the other heirs so that if the worst should happen, the royal line would still endure. The war meant that she had few memories of her parents, for her father had fallen in battle not long after Sujanha had come of age and emerged from (comparative) safety to join the military. And mother followed him soon after. Grief was a powerful illness of its own.

As long as her health was at a level that her mind remained sound, and she could still sit in a chair to work, Sujanha intended to see the war against the Goa'uld through. After that point she intended to pass command to High Commander Algar and retire, hopefully, into obscurity away from the stresses and politics of court to enjoy however few years the Maker saw fit to grant her. They said I might see 1500 years if I retired forty-three years ago. A small part of her looked forward to that day, looked forward to peace. I should see 1400, at least. (That would only require living another 23 years.) The rest of her knew that she would have barely an idea of what to do with herself without Fleet business to deal with.

Maybe I will write a book on battle tactics and strategies.

Winning the war certainly took innovations.

Innovations … and risks.

Another reason much of the Council dislikes me.

Kaja seemed to arrive quickly, but given that Sujanha found time seemed to blur and glob together when the pain was one of the foremost things that her body felt, "quickly" meant little. A Zukish from a world within the empire, Kaja was Sujanha's personal healer and had held that position for the last 25 years. Though she was about 60 years old,[1] as the Furlings measured time, and her hair was now more grey than black, Kaja was still strong and healthy. She was well-respected by all who knew her and was one of the few who could see past Sujanha's titles, treating her as just another patient.

"What did you do this time?" Was Kaja's opening blunt statement as the older woman bustled into the room, a healing device on one hand and a wooden case with medicines carried in the other.

(Kaja had seen less than a 20th of the years Sujanha had lived, but by proportions, comparing their years so far against the average lifespans of their races, Kaja was by far the elder of the two.)

Treating Sujanha as just another patient … also means calling me on it in even more blunt language than my bodyguards … when she thinks I'm being foolish. Healers seemed to have special privileges that transcended rank, or so it seemed.

"I went to Gaia yesterday on business," Sujanha replied. She forced her right paw which had fisted itself into the blanket to relax. Don't claw holes in it and give someone more work to do.

An eyebrow crawled its way up toward Kaja's hairline. "I'm assuming you meant on foot."

Of course, on foot.

"How else?"

Kaja approached and, after receiving a nod of permission, sat down on the edge of the bed and reached out to take Sujanha's arm in hand and feel her pulse, "You do command the entire Furling Fleet …" The save your strength and actually use a ship under your command was unstated but very clear.

"What few ships are in Avalon currently are not there to ferry me around, and my flagship is in Ida," the Commander snapped, "It was personal business anyway, not fleet business."

The healer gave a harrumph but then bent to her work. She checked Sujanha's pulse, frowned over that, which was not that surprising. I hurt all over. I can feel my heart pounding without putting my hand to my neck. She ran the healing device across the Commander's body, frowned yet more, removed her leg braces to allow her to massage the muscles, and then when that was all done, she rose and mixed some medicine from the box she had brought and a cup of water Ruarc brought in.

"Drink this," Kaja said, handing over a mug of what looked more like green sludge from an unclean pond in the city gardens than actual medicine, "I cannot do much for your pain directly, but that should help with the inflammation in your tendons and joints," which will help the pain.

A little.

Sujanha took the medicine with a slightly resigned sigh. (Since they were in private, she allowed herself that much.) The taste of this is as bad as the appearance. The medicine went down quickly, but the aftertaste remained, gritty and bitter. Her stomach rolled, and for a moment she was afraid the medicine would make a quick reappearance. She took a deep breath, swallowed hard, and then took another deep breath. Kaja handed over a cup of water, which she slowly sipped at. The rolling of her stomach slowly settled.

That is absolutely disgusting.

It would be worse coming up.

"Rest for as long as you can. Do not even think about putting your braces back on until right before you have to leave," Kaja ordered, starting to pack her tools away, "And do not even think of even trying to walk today without assistance, or you will end up falling, which will be even worse than Council meetings."

And would give the Council more fuel.

"I'll come back to check on you this afternoon," the healer finished, "but send for me if you need me sooner."

"I thank you," Sujanha responded with a slight incline of her head. Even the small motion made her head throb … more.

Kaja bowed and then withdrew. Ruarc appeared to escort her out and then returned, leaning on the door frame. "I'm assuming that I can't coax you into eating anything."

I couldn't keep it down.

"No," the mere thought of food made her feel sick, "I'll take tea, though, once the kitchens are open."

What time is it anyway? Headquarters was large enough and employed enough people that it had its own kitchens on one of the underground levels. The kitchens did not open, however, to make the morning meal until half past the sixth hour.

"It's just past opening hour," Ruarc replied, "I'll send a message down now. Can I do anything else?"

Sujanha shook her head again, "The tea is all I need right now. I'll rest for now. Rouse me when it's half-till the tenth hour. The last thing I need is to be late to the Council Meeting."

Ruarc automatically nodded but then paused, cocking his head in a thoughtful gesture, "Are you sure it's wise to go? You really don't look well, Commander."

Give them fuel for the fire by going or fuel for the fire by not going.

"I missed the last meeting because I was ill, Ruarc," Sujanha responded, "Missing a second would have unpleasant consequences. Besides, I dislike reading summaries of Council discussions and decisions."

Summarize military briefings, my brother does well.

Council meetings, not so well.


The morning passed interminably slowly. Sujanha wished she could drift back off into sleep to let the time pass more quickly and give her some respite from the pain. She knew that was a futile hope, though. Over the years she had found various means to distract herself on bad days: counting heartbeats until she reached into the thousands and then lost track, counting the timing of her breaths until they were perfectly even and slow, or even once she felt a little better, reading or working on briefings for her soldiers.

Today the former two means proved to be more attainable, though she frequently lost count, as her mind wandered to the Midgardians, the Goa'uld, and Doctor Jackson, whose petition would go before the Chief Judge later that day.

He seems to be a very interesting person.

I would like to speak more with him … not just because he may be useful.

Hours passed. Slowly, the pain lessened just enough to make the thought of working not unbearable. Sujanha turned her attention to looking at the transcripts Thor had sent over from the Beliskner's security recordings that detailed the meeting between Thor and the Midgardians after the recent trouble on Cimmeria. Her mind was quick, and languages—most languages—came comparatively easy to her, and if she were to speak more with Doctor Jackson, not needing a translator would be of great use. Sujanha had picked up some English from the long afternoon's discussion on Gaia, and these transcriptions her Asgardian counterpart had sent her would provide her with more grammatical frameworks and vocabulary words.

What I need to read is an English dictionary … assuming they have such things.

They have to have such a thing. What advanced culture doesn't have something similar to a dictionary?

Sujanha was relatively confident that she could hold basic conversations, if the vocabulary was not too complicated or specialized, and more facility with English would come with time and practice. Immersion and sheer necessity were efficient ways of learning a language … just frustrating for the initial period.

Time passed. There was a rap on the door frame. Ruarc had reappeared. "It's that time, Commander."

Already?

Sujanha nodded, "I thank you." She paused, looking around for her leg braces, which were … out of reach on the nearby chair. "Pass me my braces please." Ruarc did so. "Is Ragnar here?"

"Yes, we are all here. We've just been quiet … in case you could rest."

Having presumably heard his name called, Ragnar's great bulk appeared behind that of his brother in the doorway, "Do you need me, Commander?"

"Yes, I need both of you," Sujanha waved them both inside, as under the concealment of the covers, she began to fit her braces back on. Thankfully, these pants are loose enough I can fit these back on without having to disrobe. "Have our guests arrived yet?" The pressure of the braces against her legs was still painful, but it would have to be borne.

A shake of the head from Ruarc, and a sound of negation from his brother.

"Very well," Sujanha paused for a moment, thinking … and letting a momentary bout of dizziness fade when she moved to quickly. You haven't eaten since last evening. "Ruarc, stay here for now. As soon as our guests arrive, meet them. Show them around the city if they wish, or have them brought here and tended, too, until Kadar can meet with them."

Ruarc bowed deeply, "I hear and will obey, Commander."

Of that, I never have had a doubt.

"Ragnar, I will need your strong arm today. I fear today is a poor day for a Council meeting, and I'm under healer's orders not to walk without assistance."

Not that I think I could actually walk without help.

"I am your servant, Commander, as ever," Ragnar said with a matching bow, "as long as you need me."


Though Headquarters and the High Council Building were both located on the acropolis that towered above the lower city of Uslisgas, it was still a decent walk from one building to the other. On a normal day, Sujanha might have considered walking, but today was not a good day, not even a normal day, not even a poor day, so about twenty minutes before the meeting was set to begin, she beamed across, leaning heavily on Ragnar's strong arm.

They arrived in the Great Hall that abutted the formal meeting room. The room was quite large, both in floor space and in height. The floors and the walls (to a considerable height) were made of polished stone, so carefully cut that it would have been difficult to slip a sheet of paper between two blocks. Some of the walls between some of the inner chambers were lined with dark-colored wood, as was the soaring ceiling far above the heads of even the tallest occupants.

A short distance from where Sujanha and Ragnar beamed in and straight in front of them were two massive wooden doors set within a stone archway. These magnificently carved and extremely heavy doors, which currently stood open, led into the High Council Chamber itself. The light of the blue-crystal lamps that illuminated the interior of the chamber spilled out the open doorway, casting strange shadows across the stone floor.

"Sujanha-Datong," a deep rumbling voice called out before the two could get more than two steps towards the doors, a voice undershot by a repeating tapping sound.

Despite the heavy accent that distorted the syllables of her name and the non-Furling address, Sujanha immediately recognized the voice … and the language and nudged Ragnar, who was between her and the voice, to turn.

Coming towards them at a steady pace was a strange figure that some might even have considered monstrous. A Dovahkiin. Where Uslisgas—the planet, not the capital city—enjoyed beautiful waterfalls, towering mountains covered in snow, and meadows and forests filled with strange and wondrous plants and animals, the planet Drehond, the homeworld of the Dovahkiin, was a fire-world known for its own mountains that belched fire and rocks into the air until molten rock ran like rivers across the land. If Drehond had once been a more hospitable world, no one remembered, for the mountains had belched forth fire for time out of mind. The surface was so hot, and the atmosphere so full of toxic chemicals that only the Dovahkiin, who had either adapted to those awful conditions or been born to them, could not only emerge from their elaborate cities beneath the surface and survive on the surface but thrive.

The Dovahkiin were a physically terrifying humanoid race built to survive the harsh conditions of their homeworld. Chief Armorer[2] Vaazrodiiv, the figure coming towards them, was a good example of her race. She stood half-a-head taller than Sujanha and had a somewhat slighter build than the males of her species. Her leathery hide was a blueish green and covered almost all over with a close network of scales of the same hue. Her hands and feet were tipped with claws, which caused the tapping sound that had heralded her arrival. Deep-set eyes with vertical pupils were flanked by graceful horns that swept back from her face with further horns sweeping back from her forehead, but not from her chin like with most males. She had no obvious ears or nostrils but could obviously hear well. Thick, leathery wings sprang out from her shoulders, sweeping down to brush the floor behind her with every step. Her clothes were made of thickly woven and thickly padded cloth to both protect those who touched her from the sharpness of her scales and keep her warm outside of heavily climate-controlled areas, and she wore a leather vest over it all.

Vaazrodiiv stopped a few paces away and bowed low, her hands crossed over her chest, her left hand gripping the wrist of her right, fisted hand in a firm grip. Her wings lay folded neatly against her back. As usual, her bow was several degrees lower than was strictly necessary between two High Councilors, but given that she was one of the few who still acknowledged the former relationship between Sujanha and the Dovahkiin royal court, it was not that surprising.

More surprising that she actually is still my ally.

One of the few outside the military who actually speak to me.

Other Dovahkiin envoys or officials who found their way to the Imperial Court on Uslisgas, when they were dealing with Sujanha not with Her Imperial Highness Sujanha or Supreme Commander Sujanha, treated her with the most chilling of courtesies that somehow were insulting simultaneously. Even when they dealt with her in her official capacities, their courtesies were still extremely pointed.

The last thing I need is yet one more opponent on the High Council.

"Sujanha-Datong," Vaazrodiiv said again as a greeting. (The Dovahkiin indicated relationship and titles through a complicated series of suffixes that Sujanha had religiously memorized in her youth. "Datong" was their word for a very high-ranking military commander.) "Greetings to you both." She spoke, as always, in her own tongue. Whether it was some quirk of their species' genetics or some adaption to the caustic atmosphere of Drehond, neither the tongues nor the vocal cords of the Dovahkiin were adaptable enough to speak any language but their own.

Sujanha bowed her head, not daring to shift her weight off of Ragnar's arm long enough to actually return a formal bow, "Greetings, Vaazrodiiv. How fare you?"

"Well," was the reply, "though I dislike the cold." (For fall, it was actually a comparatively warm day.) "But our work goes well and quickly, so I am pleased, and my kin at court are well, so I am well." (By court, Vaazrodiiv meant the court of the Great Queen Sariiz, to whom she was distantly related. The exact relationship between Vaazrodiiv and Sariiz, if Sujanha had even known in the first place, escaped her. Endless genealogies had been one thing that she had never been forced to memorize.)

"We thank you for your work. Without it we would have no hope for the oncoming war," Sujanha said with another nod of respect, "And I'm glad all goes well at the court of the Great Queen, long may she reign."

Glad for many reasons.

"I fear you are not well this morning, Datong. May I offer you my arm?" Vaazrodiiv asked.

Ragnar would not be allowed in the chambers, anyway.

Sujanha agreed, "I thank you." She added to her bodyguard, "the Chief Armorer will see me to my seat. I will call for you when the meeting is concluded."

Ragnar only stepped back and out of arm's length once Sujanha's weight was transferred to the other woman's strong arm. "Commander. High Councilor," he bowed deeply to each and then withdrew.

The two made their way slowly into the high council chamber, Vaazrodiiv intentionally checking her long strides to match Sujanha's slow pace.

"And the Crown Prince?" Sujanha asked quietly, circling back to the earlier line of conversation.

"He is well. Quite busy, I'm told. He is personally overseeing the work over the items you and your brother have requested."

By which you mean the list of items someone within the Fleet and the Army sent to Drehond.

The arrival of the two women as they stepped across the threshold into the High Council Chamber drew some attention from the handful of High Councilors already present. Anarr hasn't arrived yet, I see. Neither the Furlings nor the Dovahkiin were a physically expressive race, given the claws and the scales, outside their family groups, and leaning on someone's arm, especially as heavily as I am, was usually reserved for the young, the old, and those … quite ill.

It cannot be helped.

A sizable, semi-circular table with elongated edges dominated the center of the room, which was lit by blue-crystal lamps set high on the walls. Vaazrodiiv guided Sujanha to their usual seats at the end of the far side, leaving the seat at the end free for Anarr whenever he arrived. (Vaazrodiiv explained at that point that the High Chancellor had pushed the meeting later by half-an-hour for reasons yet unspecified, which explains why so few of the others are here yet … And why so few of the Iprysh guards were present. I wonder if that news came just after I left … I certainly haven't heard anything. A delay was not something her aids or her guards would have forgotten to tell her).

Sujanha moved to her chair gratefully, holding back an instinctive groan by biting deep into her lip when her weaker right leg suddenly cramped, sharp needles of pain racing up and down her leg. Only her grip on the arm-rests kept her from settling, not collapsing, into her chair.

"How goes the Fleet's preparations for war?" Vaazrodiiv asked. Being an old friend, she probably realized that some sort of distraction would be gratefully appreciated.

Something to think about besides how much I hurt—I really do need to be more careful—and how much I would prefer not to be here.

Sujanha let out a low hiss, and her ears flattened against her head for a moment, showing exactly how not well those preparations were going, "I'm fighting one war in Ida, still recovering from a second here, and preparing for a third war in Avalon, less than eighty years since the end of the Great War, and we're doing all that simultaneously," she let out a heavy sigh, "so not well."

Vaazrodiiv let out a rumble of agreement and sympathy both, "The Great War devastated the armies and fleets of all the great races. Trying to distribute what is left to cover all those fronts," she shook her head and let out a hiss, "It is a task I do not envy."

The Furling commander snorted, "We are still struggling to get the necessary intelligence to even begin in Avalon, though I might have found a partial solution for that." Which I will not tempt fate by discussing. "Aside from that, the war in Ida does not go well. I do not know how much longer Thor will be able to uphold the protection treaty against the Goa'uld without support, and that will be yet another problem." She paused, curled one scarred lip revealing a hint of bone-white teeth, "And we have to leave enough forces here to deal with any problems that might arrive. As fast as our hyperdrives are, the great divide cannot be immediately crossed."

Vaazrodiiv tapped the claws of one hand against the table for a few moments, thinking, and then asked, "What are you doing with foreign contingents?"

"All the great races have sent contingents … or will do so," Sujanha responded, shifting again trying to find the most comfortable position, "The troops are Anarr's problem to deploy. I just have to have enough transports to ferry them all. As to ships, I expect the Etrairs and the Lapith will have to bear the brunt of galactic defense if the worst happens, though I will leave some of my fleet or some Iprysh ships in case of an enemy beyond their power. I might take the rest of the Iprysh contingent with me to Avalon and send more of my ships to Ida, or I might divide the Iprysh contingent." She let out a frustrated hiss, "There are too many unknowns yet."

"Has not Thor-Datong been sending you intelligence?" Vaazrodiiv asked, circling back to an earlier point of discussion.

"He has, and we would be in a worse position without it," the other woman replied, "but the Asgard confine themselves to ship-to-ship matters, so their data is incomplete, as your peoples' would be in a similar situation just reversed since you have no ships." Her voice dropped, "After all we lost … less than eighty years, but our men would still follow us to very shores of the Sea of Night.[3] I am not … we are not sending them into the gaping maw of the unknown."

Vaazrodiiv nodded. The Dovahkiin had suffered heavily during the Great War. Though their planet had never been invaded like many others—one advantage of having a planet only accessible by Stargate—those on Drehond had suffered great privation after burying their Stargate for survival's sake, and most of the soldiers who had remained off-world to fight with the Furlings had never returned.

More names for the Wall.

May they never be forgotten.

Every race bore the scars of the war that seemed as if it would never end.

The streets of Uslisgas, the once thriving capital city of the Furling Empire, now seemed perpetually barren.

The empty seats at the table.

New names to recite at the feasts of remembrance.

The faces you look for and we'll never see again.

The evils of the past could never be undone, the griefs never unsuffered, but we must fight on so that those who live on after us might have hope for a better future.[4]

Sujanha's mind turned to her cousin, the Crown Prince, and his two young children, safe on Othala. The children … she had never met them. They were born as the fruit of an arranged marriage to safeguard the succession of a dynasty devastated by the war. For this is what it means to be a king: to be FIRST in every desperate attack and LAST in every desperate retreat.[5] And her brother's second son, Ansurr … he would never know the kindness of his older brother, would never receive one of the carved figures Odin liked to make, would never have an older brother to read him stories.

But you know peace. You do not know the burdens and trials of growing up during a war that has envelop your home.

And that brought Sujanha some semblance of peace.


Anarr dropped into his seat besides his sister just moments before High Chancellor Ibûn, an elderly Maskilim, called the High Council meeting to order. Her brother was not in a good mood. His ears were pinned flat to his head, and there was a low, almost sub-audible growl rumbling in his chest. Sujanha shot her elder brother a look, concerned. (If this was a military matter, a very serious one, word would have been sent, but …) Anarr saw her glance and shook his head.

Not critical then.

If he wants me to know, he'll tell me later.

After the meeting had been called to order, Chief Minister Vix Janth, whose appearance marked him as a Nafshi (the child of a Furling and an Etrair), rose to speak first, which was not in and of itself surprising. Among his department's many duties was the collection of national food stores, which had been heavily depleted during the Great War. Rebuilding those food stores as well as the military's supplies was a vital step in preparing for the new war against the Goa'uld in Avalon.

The problem was that the Chief Minister and Sujanha had a long-running … feud … that had begun about 300 years earlier and was still ongoing. It had started based on differing political views, been amped up by his views on her handling of some events towards the end of the Great War, and had only gotten worse over the last 50 or 60 years. For being one of the most advanced and powerful races in the known universe, politics among the Furlings was no less complicated, and Janth was known for his polite yet pointed jabs, which had a way of riling Sujanha like no other.

"Before I give my report," the Chief Minister began, turning toward Sujanha and giving a shallow bow (his chair was on the opposite side of the table from hers), "Might I express how good it is to see you return, Commander." Supreme Commander, and yes, yes, calling attention again to the fact I missed the last meeting. "I was concerned that you might not be well enough to attend today. I am relieved to see you here."

Well enough to attend today …

That statement caught Sujanha's attention, and she fought back the instinct to hiss or make any motion of surprise, though she felt her brother stiffen beside her.

I'm sure Ragnar or Ruarc told my brother. They usually do when I'm feeling quite ill.

Him knowing does not surprise me, but Janth … how does he know?

She credited the Chief Minister with enough sincerity to believe that he was genuinely glad to see her strong enough to come. That being said, he was making a deliberate point by stating those facts so bluntly in front of all the other High Councilors.

He was not here when I arrived. Could he have seen Kaja arriving or leaving, or could one of his attendants have seen?

I know we have our differences, but spying on each other … that is not our way. Sujanha filed away his comment nonetheless to tell her bodyguards and have them look into … carefully.

Sujanha met the Chief Minister's eyes across the table, holding his unblinking black gaze for several long seconds, until he looked away first, and only then did she look back down at her tablet, a portable computer with a projected holographic screen that had her notes about the agenda for the Council meeting. "I am glad to be well enough to return, Chief Minister," the Commander replied dryly, "for Elder Brother's skills at summarizing the discussions of the esteemed councilors leaves much to be desired."

Elder Brother, forgive me for that.

That drew a laugh from several councilors, and out of the corner of her eye, Sujanha saw her brother shoot her an amused glance in a rare moment of comradery over their shared dislike of High Council meetings.

I needed some way of deflecting, and that was all that came to mind.

Janth laughed and nodded, "Of course, of course, and since this meeting is so heavily in regards to your plans for your latest war, it is especially fortuitous for you to be present."

Now Sujanha did stiffen, her muscles crying out at the sudden movement, and Anarr also stiffened. Vaazrodiiv gave a low hiss. The Chief Minister's words were troubling on many levels and possibly indicative of a split within the Council itself, considering that Janth was one of the principal leaders in the more traditionalist group within the Council.

Are they suddenly growing wary about the plans for dealing with the Goa'uld?

"My plans, Chief Minister? My war?" There was a note of warning in Sujanha's voice, and she felt her mind sharpen, the nagging pain in her body fading somewhat into the background, "Of what do you speak?"

When did I become the ringleader?

"You are one of the chief proponents for entering a new war less than half an Ithell after the Great War," Janth noted.

One of, and yet you are singling me out, why?

Sujanha hissed, and if she had not been one of the Gaetir, her eyes would have more clearly shown her anger, "Yes, I am one of the ones urging our king and this august body to make right an ancient wrong. The peoples of Avalon have languished under the oppression of the Goa'uld for generations because of us, because of the technology the Goa'uld stole from us, Chief Minister. Yes, I want that wrong to be made right—you should, also—and if I can see it done in my lifetime, so much the better. I can go to my grave with a lighter heart and a clearer conscience."

"In your lifetime," Janth mused, "The victor of two wars."

You did not just say that!

As if!

Sujanha slammed her paws down on the table in front of, indignation lending strength to her muscles, and she would have leapt to her feet if she thought her leg would stand the sudden strain, "Do not speak of what you do not know," she growled, "I have endured your jabs for years, but now you go too far. If you have an iota of respect for me, do not insult my character. Anyone who knows me knows full well that I have no wish for power or titles or glory. I have every confidence in my High Commanders. They could lead this war just as well as I could. My only goals as Supreme Commander are—and have always been—to safeguard the empire and ensure as many of my soldiers live to see another day as possible."

The High Chancellor looks apoplectic.

At which of us, I wonder?

Probably me … for losing my temper.

One time being one of the Imperial Family is convenient … he's slower to call me down.

Chief Ambassador Amilcar, one of the Sukkim, who judging by build and coloring could have been a brother of her bodyguards, rose at that point. He shot a reproving look at the Chief Minister and then bowed deeply to Sujanha. "It is known that the Supreme Commander and I have had our differences in the past and still continue to do so today. That being said, her devotion to the empire is well-known, and her character in that regard is above reproach. If the Chief Minister has a point, he should make it, not make personal attacks."

Speaking in my defense? There can be something new under the sun.

"I second," Vaazrodiiv agreed, the translator clipped to the collar of her vest translating her words into Furling.

Janth has made no secret he would like to see me step down as Supreme Commander.

He led the vote to unseat me fifty years ago.

Are you trying for another vote?

"My apologies," The Chief Minister bowed to Amilcar and then to Sujanha, who could almost feel her brother seething beside her. Despite their deep personal differences, Anarr would always rise to her defense in the face of outside opposition.

"If you have a point, just make it," Sujanha said with a sigh, the sudden rush of energy from her anger fading as quickly as it had come, "So that we can actually attend to business. Are you becoming hesitant as to fighting the war, growing concerned about our plans for the war, or concerned that I will be at the forefront?"

Almost certainly the last.

"The last."

I knew it.

"You are rightly regarded for your leadership and skill, helping to lead us to victory in the Great War," the Chief Minister began. And yet you are one of the ones who has stated criticism of what was it … the "rashness" of some of my battle plans? "But your health is known to be weak, and with the welfare of our people in mind, I am simply concerned about having a potentially compromised commander leading half of our military into battle, when you sometimes struggle to even walk."

You could at least try for a new argument of why I need to retire.

I've been refuting this one for years.

Anarr rose to his feet in one fluid motion. "The Chief Minister seems to have my sister and I confused," he said, his voice a rumbling growl.

"What Supreme Commander Anarr says is true," Sujanha agreed, speaking now to the room at large, "but the Chief Minister has a valid concern. My health, compared to my brethren, compared even to the Gaetir, is weak, but the days that I struggle to even walk, as he puts it, are comparatively few, though I might need a strong arm to lean upon more frequently, but you must remember that I am not Elder Brother. I do not lead an army into battle. I do not need the strength to march on the front line of the vanguard and charge across a field into battle. I lead the fleet, Chief Minister. Just because I have been more hands on with day-to-day and face-to-face operations in the past compared to many of my predecessors does not mean I have to be. As long as my mind is sound and I have the strength to sit on my bridge or work from Headquarters, I can lead and lead well."

Still Janth continued to press his point, "You say you can lead as long as, in part, your mind is sound, but the long-term effects of the Enemy's poison are not well understood, and you suffer from one of the worst cases. When you are suffering, how do you know your mind is clear?"

You impugn my character and now insult my intelligence?

And that of each of my commanders?

"After five hundred years of suffering, Chief Minister, you learn, and I am not afflicted with High Commanders or Fleet Commanders or Wing Commanders who follow any order blindly, who carry out without thought any battle-plan that I send them. I know when to lead and when to step back and allow one of my High Commanders to lead, as others before me have done." She paused and then added dryly, "Our people are strong, but leave because of sickness is not forbidden or unknown among us." Her voice sobered, "And as I have sworn on my honor before, the day that I realize or am told by Supreme Commander Anarr or one of my commanders that I am no longer capable of commanding this fleet without endangering my men … that day will be the very day that I step down. I swear it."

Commanding this fleet has already been my life's honor.

The High Chancellor rose, "I have heard enough. We have actual business to attend to in this meeting, so unless you have a motion to raise or a vote to call, Chief Minister, turn to your presentation or sit down."


The High Council meeting was long and tedious, but the remaining hours were less confrontational than those fraught first minutes. Yet another reminder of why I hate politics. Updates were given on currently available supplies and on the supplies hoped to be gathered in the coming harvest seasons; on the number of trained healers and available supplies, since advanced technology is not a cure for the ills of every wounded soldier. Not enough healers to run the healing devices; the status of currently available ships and of those still being repaired; of troop numbers.

The list of topics went on and on.

By the end of the meeting, Sujanha was much more informed about how preparations were going overall for the war, and yet, she was heartily sick of long meetings … and simply stiff and in pain from sitting in an uncomfortable chair for several hours.

That was unnecessarily long.

My commanders and I could have gotten through all that much more quickly.

No arguing and mindless back-and-forth involved.

Anarr had taken the Chief Minister's earlier insults even more personally than Sujanha had—Yes, I'm offended. I've just been listening to his jabs for years. There are only so many times I can get angry over the same insults—if the flattened ears and fiery glare he was still sending toward Janth's seat were any indications. Which they are. I know Elder Brother.

"Walk me back to Headquarters?" Sujanha asked, reaching over to set a paw on her brother's arm.

Anarr started in his chair and then turned his golden eyes toward her, "Of course, sister." Despite their differences he still used the more informal, familiar term, though Sujanha had long ago switched to the extremely formal "Elder Brother."

Vaazrodiiv rose as they did, shooting a glare of her own toward the Chief Minister, "As good as he is at his job, I don't like him."

He's actually pleasant to talk to when he and I aren't having differences of opinion on politics or the fleet … or most any other subject.

That got a rumbling growl of agreement from Anarr as he gently helped Sujanha to her feet and then supported her as she gently wiggled her limbs to get rid of the pins-and-needles and then rubbed away a cramp in her leg.

"I'm sure that neither of us are the most pleasant to be around when we argue," Sujanha admitted, acknowledging her own fault in the matter.

"The same could probably be of us all," noted Vaazrodiiv in Dovahkiin, having turned off her translator after the meeting since both siblings understood her perfectly well without it.

And the translator, as good as the program is, cannot convey her tone … or the nuances of her word choice.

"I must take my leave," the Chief Armorer concluded, stepping backwards to give her room to execute a deep bow, "Long life and good health to you both."

Sujanha only nodded, since returning the bow was difficult while leaning on her brother's arm for support, and Anarr did likewise. When Vaazrodiiv had departed, they turned towards the massive doors leading out into the entrance hall, which the Iprysh guards had reopened, but before they could take more than a handful of steps, a voice called after them.

Ah, Kadar.

The man approaching them was as different in appearance as Sujanha was compared to Vaazrodiiv or Ragnar. He was humanoid in body-shape, as all the Furlings were, half-bloods or not, but avian in appearance with a sharp, extremely angular face and a long black beak that gave his voice a particularly high-pitched sound. Grey feathers covered his body, darkening towards black as they dipped below his robes and on the tips of the wings that fell down from his back like a long cloak.

Over 6000 years since the Years of Wandering, and still the bloodlines of the Aska endure.

I wonder for how much longer … Their numbers were so few when they joined us.

"Supreme Commanders," Kadar bowed in greeting in the Furling fashion, before directing his gaze toward Sujanha, "The asylum case you put before me is next on my day's agenda. Where may I find the young one? Did you have him sent to my offices?"

Sujanha shifted slightly, momentarily leaning her weight harder on her brother's arm, "Doctor Jackson and his witnesses had not arrived on-world before I left Headquarters earlier, and I have not spoken to my aids or my bodyguards since. They should have arrived by now, and assuming that is the case, they should be with Ruarc."

If I had had a moment to find Ragnar, I would know for sure.

"Ah, of course," Kadar bowed again, "Thank you, Commander. I will send a message to him as soon as I return to my office. Good day."

Kadar departed as quickly as he had come, and Sujanha and Anarr turned again towards the door.

"Come with me to my office?" Her brother asked, as they passed over the threshold out into the hallway, "I think we need to talk."

I think we do.

And to Ragnar, as well.

Ragnar arrived at the moment from up the hall, just in time to hear Anarr's last statement, and a concerned look passed through her bodyguard's eyes. "Problem?" He asked quietly, giving a perfunctory bow.

Sujanha glanced around quickly to make sure no one was close by and then replied just as quietly, "Janth happened."

Those two words were enough to tell Ragnar everything he needed to know. "Again?" He growled, "But …"

Sujanha shook her head, "No more here. We can talk more in private at Headquarters."

Ragnar's eyes hardened, "Of course, Commander. Your office or …"

"Mine," Anarr replied.


For security purposes, jamming technology was located within the offices of each of the Supreme Commanders, High Commanders, and High Generals, so Anarr, Sujanha, and Ragnar beamed into the hallway outside his outer office. At the sound of their arrival, Long-Claw appeared in the open doorway on the other side of the hallway, but as soon as he cataloged the new arrivals as friendlies, he returned to sprawling in a patch of sunlight by an open window.

Anarr guided his guests through his outer office—his aides were absent, probably taking the chance for a brief break during the Council meeting—and to a seat by his desk. Ragnar followed dutifully behind and then, with Anarr's permission, took a seat along the wall.

"So … what happened … exactly?" Ragnar asked cautiously. "Commanders," he tacked on the honorific at the end. (Anarr tended to run his offices more formally than Sujanha did.)

"Before or after the Chief Minister implied that I was pushing for the war against the Goa'uld to be carried out during my tenure?"

Ragnar's eyes went wide, and he just starred at her.

Silence? Interesting.

I was expecting an explosion!

"And," Anarr added, "questioned your mental competence to still command the fleet."

There was a rumbling growl, and Ragnar came half out of his seat, before he got his temper under control and subsided back, "Truly? That is low even for him."

Quite.

"Amilcar called him on it, and he apologized," Sujanha noted, "sincerely, I believe. He has the best interests of the empire at heart. He just …"

"Believes you are contrary to that," Anarr finished for her.

Believe it or not.

Sometimes I wonder if, in recent years, this has started to go beyond our political differences.

Ragnar growled again, baring his teeth for a moment. "Unbelievable." He paused, took a deep breath, and gave the two commanders a pointed look, "But there's more, is there not? Those insults are ridiculous but not worthy of having a private discussion over."

Sujanha nodded, "There is more. Janth began by noting pointedly how I'd missed the last council meeting and how relieved he was to see me present today, since he was concerned that I might not be well enough to intend today."

A statement that grows the more concerning the longer I think about it.

It implies he knew something prior to my arrival, unless he was outright lying.

And that would be hard to believe.

"How?" Ragnar began and then cut himself off.

"That's what we want to know," noted Anarr, "You sent word to me, which is very acceptable."

"But except for Kaja, I spoke to no one outside my offices this morning," added Sujanha, "Did Kaja beam in and out?"

Who else might have seen?

"She beamed in," Ragnar replied, "but walked out. I escorted her downstairs myself. She said if she was up that early anyway, she was going to go to the library to study an herb book. My brother … he might have said something when he went to get you tea, but … all of us … we are loyal, Commanders. None of us would have said anything to the Chief Minister, I would swear to it. We are loyal."

Even though you are supposed to be loyal to the empire first, we are first in your hearts.

"If Kaja walked out, that is the most likely reason," said Sujanha, relaxing finally back into her chair with a quiet groan, "she is well-known as my personal healer, and she has few other patients, and none on the acropolis aside from me. Considering her advancing years, she would have very few reasons to be there that early aside from tending to me."

"And the Chief Minister's offices are in a building between Headquarters and the Great Library," Anarr added, "He wouldn't have been there that early, I expect, but one of his people might have said something."

Ragnar growled at that comment but was forced to agree that was the most likely cause for Janth's uncannily accurate knowledge. "I'll advise her to be more careful from now on."

That my health is poorer than my brethren, even somewhat precarious on rare occasions, is no secret.

That does not mean I want it bandied about as a topic of common conversation … or have Janth make yet more jabs at me in front of everyone in meetings.

And my control of my temper suffers when I hurt the most.

"Did our guests arrive safely?" Sujanha asked, changing the conversation abruptly.

Ragnar's eyes went wide, and then he promptly thumped himself on the head, letting out a cry of annoyance, "Yes, they did, Commander. Forgive me. I meant to tell you after the meeting, but …"

"There were other things to discuss," muttered Anarr, whose attention was turning toward the reports stacked on his desk.

I should get out of his way.

Sujanha gave a wry snort, then added, "Good. And they are, or were, with Ruarc?"

Depending on whether Kadar has summoned them yet?

Ragnar made a sound of assent, "Yes. Some of the party wished to see the city, so he escorted them, while the others preferred not to, so he had settled them in one of the receiving rooms downstairs. He commed me … maybe an hour after the meeting started."

They were early. Better to be early than late.

No one was expecting the meeting to go that long, anyway.

"Good," Sujanha pushed herself to her feet, wavering slightly before she could steady herself on her own, though she kept a hand and some of her weight on the edge of her brother's desk. A little stronger. Good. Ruarc sprang to his feet—he would be remonstrating with me if my brother weren't here—and stepped forward to let her lean on his arm. "I shall return to my office and not take more of your time, Elder Brother. Please convey my greetings to your mate and the children when you see them next."

"Of course," Anarr nodded, "Good day to you, sister."


Sujanha returned to her office and settled down at her desk to look at the news and reports, few that there were, which had come in over the course of the morning and afternoon. She still felt weak, and her whole body ached fiercely, but the utter agony of the morning had passed. With a little prodding, she consented to take some medicine Kaja had left that morning (just as disgusting as the earlier blend), drink some tea, and choke down a slice of bread.

I'm not sure whether Ragnar is going to grumble because he couldn't get me to eat more or be happy because he got me to eat something.

Too thin, I am? Yes, yes, I know.

Asik entered about two hours of later with the news that Kadar had granted Doctor Jackson's request for political asylum among the Furlings, adding that his report and the recording of their meeting (data available to any High Councilor) would be sent over shortly.

"Is Ruarc on his way back?" Sujanha asked.

"Yes," came Ragnar's reply, his deep voice carrying in all the way from the outer office, "As soon as he escorts them to the Stargate."

Whatever he has, he'll have to collect before he returns.

Probably tomorrow. It's growing late, and he was close with Ohper and the others.

He'll want to say goodbye.

Where will he live? No one speaks any English except for Ragnar, Ruarc, and I … somewhat.

A matter to ponder.

There is time to figure it out.


28th of Xuxiq, Fall, 6544 A.S.
(c. March 10, 1998)
Uslisgas, Asteria

"So," Sujanha began the next morning as she was eating breakfast with her bodyguards. Some strength had returned after a quiet rest of the day and a good night's sleep, but her whole body still felt sore and achy, and her muscle tremors were worse than usual. "There was one thing that Kadar raised in the report he sent to me, which I had already been considering: where Doctor Jackson should be settled once he returns to us today."

Ragnar, who was in the midst of wolfing down a large sandwich, packed thickly with meat, made a noise that was probably to be interpreted as a request for her to continue.

"The language barrier?" Ruarc asked, pausing from cleaning meat juice off his paws with quick swipes of his tongue, having just finished eating himself.

You always have anticipated my thoughts best.

"Yes," Sujanha replied, "Doctor Jackson has been granted asylum by the empire, which means it is our[6] duty to see that he is settled properly, and though he is a linguist, Ohper says, he cannot have picked up enough of our tongue yet to be able to even buy food in the Great Square or buy himself new clothes at the shops."

"And only the three of us have any understanding of his tongue at all," Ragnar noted.

Ruarc was silent for a moment, his ears twitching, "In any other case, such a person would be placed temporarily with someone who spoke their language, but …"

"But," Ragnar continued, picking up his brother's train of thought without hesitation, "We are rarely home, and our place in the barracks is barely big enough for the both of us. And to put a guest in the barracks …"

Would not be our way.

I have suggested you rectify that problem by getting a place in the city, but you keep saying no.

But the principle must still be upheld here, but what Ragnar says is true, which leaves …

Sujanha glanced across at Ruarc, wondering if he would pick up on the implication of his brother's statement. He did. Her bodyguard's pale golden eyes went suddenly wide, as his mind connected the dots, and his ears flattened back across his head.

"No!" He growled, "Unacceptable."

Doctor Jackson must be housed with someone until he learns our language. Since there were difficulties with him being temporarily housed with the two brothers, that left Sujanha as a potential host. It is the only logical option. My house is big enough, too big for just me, truly.

But …

Ragnar was a beat behind his younger brother on the uptake, but then he realized it, and his eyes went wide, too, "Commander! That's too much of a security risk!"

"It's not like I keep sensitive data at home!" Sujanha noted. Some people think I'm rash, but I've never been accused of being a fool! "And even if I were to, I wouldn't be giving him access to my private rooms!"

Both brothers growled, saying at almost the same time, "A risk to you!"

He's an unknown.

That's completely different.

"He's shown no signs of being an active threat. You've both spent hours with him, Ruarc the most. The Nox let him stay on Gaia … in the same village as Nafrayu," Sujanha chided, "Do him the courtesy of distinguishing between an active threat and an unknown."

The more I think of him, the more he reminds me of Odin.

"But," Ragnar protested.

But what?

"But nothing," Sujanha stated, "If one of you can give me a concrete reason why he is a threat before we put this decision before Doctor Jackson, I will reconsider. If not, please remember the security precautions already in place in my house, and remember that while I am often ill, I am not helpless."

You are just very protective and extremely wary … after … everything.

Ruarc rose long enough to give a half-bow, kicking his brother in the leg when he was about to protest more. "Yes, Commander, though I must say that the Council might not like your decision."

Now Sujanha growled, "If Elder Brother wishes to express an opinion on this decision, I will hear him out, as I would you both. As for the others, well … at the moment, I don't care."

What can they really do?

Make more sharp comments?

Talk to the king?

The Sea of Night will freeze over before they could get enough votes to actually unseat me.

"Neither of us can blame you, Commander," Ruarc replied with another half-bow, "but we would be remiss if we did not warn you of potential danger."

"Of course, and I thank you for that."


Several hours passed, and the time for the mid-day meal was fast approaching when Asik appeared in the doorway of Sujanha's inner office with the news that Gaia was dialing in. Sujanha dispatched Ruarc to go meet their guest and escort him down to the Great Square and then turned her attention back toward Asik and Ragnar, who were standing in the doorway, "Asik, you are free to leave for the day whenever you finish your tasks. Just ensure that any new critical reports that cannot wait are set to forward to my com, instead. Tell Jaax the same."

"Of course, Commander. Thank you," Asik bowed and withdrew.

"Let's go down to the Great Square. You and your brother can have one more meeting with Doctor Jackson to assuage any of your concerns, and then you two are free for the rest of the day," Sujanha added, "Unless something disastrous happens, I will not return this afternoon."

The Great Square was a large open-air marketplace and gathering place located in the Lower Town, adjacent to the main residential district in the city. Once the Great Square had been located in the exact center, but as the city of Uslisgas had expanded, its position had become more and more to one side as the city expanded away from the acropolis. Several broad streets led into and out of the square, which was surrounded otherwise by many small buildings, one to four stories in height.

At the center of the square stood a massive stone fountain that threw water high into the air, sometimes sprinkling the children who often played ball nearby if the wind was right. Scattered throughout the square itself were many open-air carts. The shops, whether the carts or those in the surrounding buildings, sold almost everything imaginable. If it could be made or grown on planet or brought from off-world, it could probably be found in one of the many shops on Uslisgas: food, familiar or exotic; clothing of many fashions; weapons of many designs; household supplies; musical instruments; among many other items.

It has been too long since I have had the time and the strength to come and listen to the stories. The traders who came from off-world to sell their goods in the capital city usually had very interesting stories to tell, which sometimes contained valuable pieces of information that might not always reach the city through official channels.

Considering the hour, there was a good crowd present as Sujanha and Ragnar arrived. Men, women, and children of almost every race in the galaxy could be spotted among the crowd, moving hither and thither. Sujanha, highly respected though she was, drew little attention, those recognizing her simply extending a courteous bow and continuing to go about their day without drawing attention to her.

There were a handful of small tables surrounding the fountain—yet out of splash range if the wind turns—and Ragnar settled Sujanha at one but remained standing himself, scanning the crowd for his brother and Doctor Jackson.

With his height, he can probably see over the crowd!

A short time passed, and then Ragnar twitched, his body swiveling. He glanced down at Sujanha and nodded. He saw his brother. And a few moments after that Ruarc appeared, making his way through the crowd, the young Doctor Jackson, carrying a small bag slung over one shoulder, trailing in his wake. Ruarc gave a quick bow as he approached and then slid into the seat opposite Sujanha, motioning Doctor Jackson into the other seat.

"Commander," the young man greeted her with a polite nod, but there was an upward lilt at the end of the word that made Sujanha wonder if he was wondering if that was an acceptable form of address.

Between whatever Ohper said and whatever he heard from Kadar, I have no idea which of my titles he has heard.

And there are enough to be confusing. Sometimes I have to stop and think to remember them all.

Sujanha gave a polite nod of assent, but that was as far as she went in mimicking human body language. A small smile of greeting as their guest had done would … well … showing teeth is usually considered a sign of anger … or a threat. "Doctor Jackson," she replied in slow, rather accented English, "Safe journey?"

"Yes, thank you," he nodded. There was a small thump as he set his bag down on the ground at his feet.

One bag only?

"Is that all that is to you?" She asked, gesturing with one paw in the vague direction of his bag.

Doctor Jackson's brow furrowed for a moment, "All that I have? Yes. I only escaped earth with the clothes on my back. The Nox were generous and gave me some extra things."

More than few people on his world need to be expelled from office.

Sujanha gave a nod of thanks, "All that you have, thank you. Our English," she made a gesture that included herself and both her bodyguards, "is small, but we learn."

He nodded again, "Thank you again for helping me."

"Your story …" Sujanha paused, searching for the words she wanted, which she was struggling to find among her extremely limited vocabulary of English words. This is the quickest way to learn, trying to communicate with someone who doesn't know our tongue. It is just the most frustrating in the meantime. "Those men are wrong. You act well. As we give you asylum, you receive soon …" there she paused again, giving a hiss of annoyance. How do you make past tense verbs or future? She reached into the waist pocket of her jacket to the small bag of coins she kept in it and pulled out one.

Doctor Jackson's eyes brightened, realizing apparently what she was trying valiantly to say, "Money, though we call those 'coins' specifically."

"Money, we give it to who we give asylum to help you settle," Sujanha continued. He is kind not to be horrified at my English. "You buy here things you have to live." She waved one paw in a circle to encompass and indicate the surrounding shops. "You have eaten since morning?"

Doctor Jackson shook his head, "No, but I don't want to trouble you. I'm sure you are busy."

It is extremely convenient that tone of voice crosses language barriers.

Sujanha waved away his words, "One needs me finds me." She extracted a couple of coins from her pocket and dropped them into Ragnar's hand, adding in Furling, "Get something simple for our guest and whatever you and your brother want."

"What about you, Commander," Ruarc added pointedly.

And of course, I should have been expecting that.

"I see Alaric's stall over there," Sujanha gestured in a direction vaguely behind Ruarc's seat, "Get me a piece of fruit. I'm not really hungry." (Alaric was a half-blood Furling who owned a food stall in the market. He had settled down to work in one place after years of traveling the galaxy as a merchant. He was widely known in the city and widely loved, especially by the children, for all the tales and songs he knew.)

Ragnar returned a few minutes later with his hands so full that Sujanha wondered momentarily how he hadn't dropped anything. Ruarc jumped up to help his brother, and together the two parceled things out. There was a thick sandwich wrapped in brown paper for Doctor Jackson, a blue fruit for Sujanha, tea for Ruarc, and something hideously colored for Ragnar.

"Are you sure that thing is edible?" Sujanha asked, eyeing the thing in her bodyguard's paw with only slightly feigned concerned, "What in Creation is it?"

"I know not," Ragnar replied … in English, trying to limit how much they talked in a foreign language in front of their guest, "Alaric say it good …"

Which considering how widely he has traveled and how … exotic … his taste is means very little.

On your own head be it, though.

Doctor Jackson unwrapped his sandwich but seemed to be eyeing it surreptitiously after the discussion over … whatever exactly … Ragnar was about to eat, so Sujanha added in English, "No concern. The food to you not like that …"

The group talked quietly as they ate, making polite, meaningless chatter in English and pointing out interesting things to Doctor Jackson as their vocabulary allowed. Doctor Jackson, once he realized that corrections would not bother them, politely and a little hesitantly pointed out English errors here and there, often managing to weave the correction into his answers to any questions.

"Where will I be staying?" Doctor Jackson finally asked when he had finished eating.

Sujanha was silent for a moment. She had been looking away across the market as she spoke but immediately looked back at the sound of his voice. His question contained unfamiliar vocabulary, and it took her a moment to half-translate his question back into Furling—the place I will be living is what?—basing her guess heavily on both context and the fact that living quarters had been the one thing not yet discussed … by anyone.

Her eyes flicked over to her bodyguards. There was a question in her eyes: one last chance to give me something, enough to make me reconsider? Both dropped their eyes as she met theirs. They would not oppose her decision any further.

Sujanha turned her gaze to her bodyguards, saying in Furling, "You both are free to return home. Unless I call for you, I shouldn't need you until tomorrow." She pushed herself to her feet carefully, and the others automatically rose.

"Of course, Commander."

Ragnar and Ruarc bowed quickly to Sujanha, and then, after saying their goodbyes, they departed, disappearing quickly into the crowds. When they were gone, Sujanha turned back to Daniel, "You are with me. I am outside the city. I have a big … place, too big for me."

Doctor Jackson's eyes went wide in surprise. His mouth opened and closed for a moment. He was at first lost for words, but then he managed to stammer, "Commander?" A look of sadness passed through his eyes even as he spoke.

What memory at such an offer could cause him such grief?

Sujanha paused for a moment, trying to formulate her thoughts as simply as possible so she could express them through some combination of her extremely limited English vocabulary and the basic gestures that they had already been using over the mid-day meal.

Some gestures are understood across cultures.

It will be good to be done with those when we know more … before we come across a gesture that is commonplace for one and insulting … or worse … for the other.

"Ragnar, Ruarc, and I are the ones who know your tongue, but our ways, our things," I wish I knew the word for 'technology', "are not like yours. It would not be our way for you to come across peoples alone." What she was trying and failing to say well was that it would not be the Furling way to accept Daniel for asylum among their people and then not give him the resources to adapt to a new society with very different cultures, languages, and habits. She also did not know the words to express why exactly staying with her bodyguards would be impossible.

"Your home … I wouldn't want to intrude," Doctor Jackson still seemed hesitant.

That statement Sujanha also had to stop and consider momentarily "My home is too large. Only I am there. You are welcome." Even the knowledge that she was probably breaking a horrifically high number of language rules in her attempts at conversations in English made her want to cringe.

Doctor Jackson finally nodded and bent down to pick up his bag, tucking the folded sandwich paper into the side. We can dispose of it at home.

Sujanha made several small taps on her gauntlet, bringing the holographic interface that would allow her to input the coordinates to beam them back home. She could do it without the holographic interface, I've done it enough times, but it allowed her to give her companion some clue about what was going to happen—maps look like maps in a very general way. "My home is …" she held her paw a distance apart, "the end of the city."

Doctor Jackson immediately began to nod, "It's quite a distance outside the city, okay." What is "okay"? "Are we beaming there?"

Ah, yes, he would have become familiar with our beaming technology entering and exiting the Hall of the Stargate, at the very least.

"Yes." Sujanha replied, inputting the final instructions. A moment later a hum sounded, and there was a blinding flash of light.

For the sake of being a good host, Sujanha had set the beaming coordinates for the front walk that lead up to her house from the street, not the entrance hallway as usual. Her house was built in an isolated area, and few other houses were nearby. A stone wall as high as Sujanha was tall encircled her property, enclosing the house and a small garden filled with trailing veins that climbed their way up any available vertical surfaces if given half-a-chance, as well as colorful flowers from many worlds.

The flowers remind me of Mother for some reason.

Motioning for her guest to follow, Sujanha headed up the path, wide enough for her and her brother to comfortably walk abreast, toward the house. The front door slid open automatically as Sujanha and Doctor Jackson climbed the two steps up from the path, the AI program that run the house recognizing her return, and then slid shut again as soon as the two were inside.

"Greetings, Commander," the automated voice greeted Sujanha in Furling.

I will need to have a new language package uploaded, as least for the basics.

I just have to understand those basics first before I can get the work done.

"This is Doctor Jackson," she replied, "He may access any rooms except my sleeping chamber and my office unless I give express permission."

"Acknowledged."

Sujanha switched back into English with an effort, making a motion in the vague direction of the nearest set of speakers, "That is a … small," how by the stars do I say "modified and simplified"? "small kind …"

"Simplified?" Doctor Jackson suggested, glancing around.

Maybe?

Sujanha nodded, "of that used on our ships at sometimes so we can rest."

"An 'auto pilot'!"

A what?

"It orders the small things of the house and sends messages," Sujanha concluded, "My English is bigger, I change it so you understand."

"Thank you," Doctor Jackson replied.

Sujanha motioned for Doctor Jackson to follow and led the way up the hallway into the interior of the house. She familiarized him the best she could with the basic layout of the house. She was constrained by her lack of knowledge of the applicable English words, though her guest was kind enough to suggest the most likely words after her fumbling explanations. She pointed out the sitting room, a room on her left hand that overlooked the garden and contained a number of comfortable-looking and dark-colored seats; the eating room and kitchen, which contained more austere seating and the food preparation area with storage containers and the cold box for the food.

It is a good thing that I had the food restocked yesterday.

Sujanha continued up the hallway until it ended with a doorway just past a steep staircase that led upstairs. The doorway led to Sujanha's library, a separate room from her office, that contained a modest collection of books, maps, star charts, and a handful of her favorite pieces of art and sculpture gifted to her by their allies. Knowing that her guest was a scholar and linguist of some skill from what he and Ohper had said, she made sure to indicate to Doctor Jackson that her library was open for him to peruse at his leisure.

He will need to learn our tongue first before he can make much use of it.

Climbing the staircase was tiring and somewhat painful. It's easier going downstairs than up these things. Sujanha fought to keep her weakness from showing. There are some things he does not need to know yet. "My rooms," she began once they both reached the upper floor, gesturing to a closed door off to the left of the stairs. Turning right, she led the way down a short hallway, "This has many old things" that I really need to clean out one day, "and this," she finished, stopping at a room on the right side of the hallway, "is your room."

Given the privacy settings that limited the automatic opening or closing of doors, the door to the guest room did not automatically open as Sujanha and Doctor Jackson approached. A small crystal stone was set on the wall to the right of the door frame itself. When she passed her hand across the front, there was a small chime, and the door slid open. Sujanha took a step back and then motioned for him to do the same. He did. There was another chime when she passed her hand across a corresponding crystal on the inside wall, and the door slid shut.

"That …" How do I say 'control'? "… powers … the door. This is the room to you." Your room only. If "You are inside, you must say to have a person be in by speech or with this," Sujanha explained briefly, gesturing to the stone again at the end.

"In English?" Her young guest asked.

"Yes," Sujanha replied, "You tell me what word. I make" …. the changes. She tried to make a gesture of switching something with her paws, "for your room."

"Ah," he nodded, "The word you want is 'enter.' Since this is my private room, I have to give someone permission to enter or have to allow them inside physically myself."

Sujanha understood immediately only about half of that last sentence but filed it away to parse and consider later. Via context, she figured she would be able to understand what he was saying with a little more time for thought.

The room the two had entered was not massive, but it was large enough to hold a good-sized, comfortable bed; a chest for clothes that also held extra linens; and a desk to work at. Another door led out to a private washroom. Sujanha, who had stopped just inside the door, as Doctor Jackson had stepped further inside to look around, pointed out these features as best she could, adding in a demonstration of how to manipulate the room's light.

"Thank you, Commander," Doctor Jackson said.

Sujanha bowed her head in acknowledgment, "You seek me. I am below in my books room."

I don't want to know how many language rules I am breaking speaking like this. At least, it won't be forever. Simplifying and throwing out excess words aided communication until they learned more of each other's languages … it just sounded horrible in the meantime.

With those words, Sujanha departed, leaving her guest to unpack what little he had and rest if he wished. She took the steps slowly back downstairs, considering what to do next.

A list of new English words for Ragnar and Ruarc.

And I think there were a couple of reports I didn't finish reading yesterday.

And later … dinner.


[1] Nearly 70 years old in Earth-years.

[2] All of the members of the High Council, save for the High Chancellor and the Supreme Commanders, bear such antiquated titles, which are holdovers from the early days of the High Council, and no long exactly indicative of the duties each High Councilor bears.

[3] Equivalent to someone from Earth saying that they would follow someone to Hell and back. According to Furling religious beliefs, the soul at death is freed from the confines of the flesh and is set free to set sail on its final journey across the Sea of Night until it reaches the Eternal Halls, the home of the Maker in the uttermost north.

[4] Paraphrase of/reference to: "One works for justice not in the hope that the evil of the past can be undone but in the hope that there shall be a livable future." Leonard Kriegel.

[5] C. S. Lewis, The Horse and His Boy.

[6] The Furling language has multiple sets of pronouns, which can refer to both a group of people specifically or, as here, a concept generally in that Sujanha is saying that it is our duty, i.e., the empire's duty, to do thus-and-such.