37th of Duumm, Summer, 6545 A.S.
(October 5, 1998)
Ushuotis, Avalon

The blazing hot rays of a setting sun beat down upon the sandy dunes of a singularly unimportant world in Lord Yu's territory, which the Furlings had named Ushuotis in their own tongue. It was early in the evening. Within another hour or two at most, the sun would set, but the sand was still boiling hot, making the dunes almost shimmer in the heat. No clouds gave any respite from the heat. Once the sun had set, the blazing heat that made every breath an almost lung-scorching struggle would turn to frigid cold.

Climate-wise, thus, Ushuotis was an undesirable world. The reason for its climate was that the Stargate was set in the depths of a large continent that was now almost totally desert, rolling sand dunes as far as the most far-seeing eye could see. There was little water anymore—none easily or quickly accessible—and almost no vegetation, except a few solitary small scrub plants that had adapted over the years to survive in the harsh climate. In the hottest months every year, severe sand storms were prone to sweeping across the dunes, burying everything above ground in its path … even the Stargate, which was forced then to be periodically unburied.

(The Stargate had been buried when the Furlings had first come to Ushuotis by ship, leading them to think originally that the world had no Stargate.)

Few people ever visited Ushuotis, except as a stop-over for those trying to conceal the Stargate addresses of their homeworlds, and even such visitors were few and far between, so dangerous was the world's weather. The Stargate itself was located in the remains of a dry river bed with steep sand dunes on either side, concealing others on the planet from view and making the river bed an excellent location for ambushes. For the hardier Furlings and their allies who could build bases far underground down beneath the shifting sands and into the bedrock below, Ushuotis was a perfect site for one of their outposts in Avalon that could act as a supply world or a staging ground or a fallback point or fulfill many other roles.

Time passed.

The sun slowly set.

The scorching winds died, and quickly the desert began to cool. No moons had risen yet, and only the stars dimly lit the dunes.

More time passed, and then a strange noise broke the silence.

The Stargate was dialing.

Not wanting incidental passers-by to learn that the once-abandoned world was no longer abandoned, the Furlings did not directly keep a guard on the Stargate. There were no guards in the wadi itself, though sometimes there were guards on the dunes above. Thus, the traveler was able to stumble through the Stargate unopposed.

The traveler was a young man with pale skin and short-cropped brown hair. His attire was once that of a minor Goa'uld in service of a System Lord, but the once fine and gaudy garments were now torn, burned, and heavily blood-stained. Half-crippled by a severe burn on his left leg from a glancing staff blast and further hampered by a head injury that had left the hair at the base of his skull matted with blood, every step he took was a lurching struggle that almost sent him tumbling to the ground. One arm was wrapped around his ribcage, and he walked half-curled around his abdomen, the cloth over which was also stained with blood.

The traveler seemed surprised by his surroundings and then became momentarily dismayed by the apparent absence of a DHD before its shadow became visible a little way off as his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness of the desert. Eyes fixed on the DHD, he resolutely began to stumble towards it. Several times he fell, but each time he dragged himself to his feet with dogged determination. After the fifth fall, his strength gave out, despite the best efforts of his symbiote (with flashing eyes) to get them up again. He lay exhausted on the sand, a few soft moans and curses flowing from his lips in the unmodulated voice of the human host. Finally, his eyes slipped close, and consciousness fled.


38th of Duumm, Summer, 6545 A.S.
(October 6, 1998)
Uslisgas, Asteria

Compared to the time and trouble it took to make first contact with Bra'tac and the Rebel Jaffa as well as the interesting … that's one word for it … circumstances under which that meeting took place, the first contact between the Tok'ra and the Furlings was astoundingly simple and unexpected. The meeting almost dropped into their proverbial laps, which was ironic considering the Tok'ra's reputation as an underground fifth column.

About a month and a half (earth-time) had passed since the meeting between Daniel, Bra'tac, and Wing Commander Agar in the Milky-Way. Within two weeks, a formal alliance had quickly been established between the Furling military and the Rebel Jaffa, and intelligence, piece by piece, was pouring in. On Uslisgas, spring had given way to early summer with bright sun, clear skies, and heat that was … so far … not oppressive. Not that after a year on Abydos and many digs in the Middle East, Daniel exactly minded the heat.

As long as it's dry heat.

Heat and humidity like in the Yucatan … ugh. That combination could make you feel like you were about to drown with no bodies of water in sight.

Early one afternoon at the end of the month, Daniel found himself sitting in Sujanha's office. That was common. It was Jaax's afternoon off, but so far, it had proved to be a very slow morning. There was no work for Daniel to do presently, so he was slowly reading a few more pages from a massive tome of Furling history that he had checked out from the library. The book was dictionary size or perhaps encyclopedia size … could use it for a doorstop in a pinch … with small print that made Daniel wish for a magnifying glass in low light. The volume he was reading was only one of many. At Sujanha's recommendation, he had started in one of the later volumes to get a better idea of recent history before he backtracked to read the ancient histories and legends of the Furling before they had even made contact with the Asgard long ago. A sharp knock on the doorframe pulled Daniel out of a long paragraph on … trade relations between the Furlings and the … some race in Ida, whose name was spelled quite oddly.

Group-writing? He squinted at it again and tried to see if he could sound it out. Transliteration from another language?

The holographic screens projected over Commander Sujanha's desk—drafts of battle-plans, galactic maps with detailed intelligence about each planet, intelligence reports, budget sheets (the bane of any commander's existence, considering her occasional grumbles), as well as a few other things—disappeared abruptly. Sujanha swiped her hand through them, effectively 'minimizing' them in response to the knock. "Come."

Asik stepped through the doorway. His brow was furrowed, and he appeared somewhat puzzled. (Daniel slipped a thin, woven bookmark into the book to mark his page and closed the book, setting it aside.) "Forgive the interruption, Commander, but a soldier from our base on Ushuotis is requesting to speak to you."

Sujanha just stared at him for a moment and gave a slow blink. Combined with her oversized black eyes, that one act would have utterly confirmed that she had Asgardian blood, even if Daniel hadn't known it. That was an interesting first meeting with Thor, and she looks so much like him … them when she does that. "Ushuotis?" She sounded confused.

Is that here … in the Milky-Way?

There was a squeak of a chair, and then Ragnar stepped forward from where he had been sprawled in a chair near the door, dozing or cogitating or something after the large lunch he had eaten. "It's one of your brother's new bases, not even fully set up yet," he explained.

Oh, one of his bases in the Milky-Way then. The Furlings were setting up scattered bases and shipyards on unpopulated or abandoned worlds across the Milky-Way to prepare for the upcoming war.

"Where is it?" Sujanha asked, bringing back up the star-map hologram that really seemed like the inter-galactic version of a planetarium meets a phonebook meets MapQuest.

"The territory of the System Lord Yu," Asik replied.

Yu … I just know Jack would have a pun about his name.

Is that Chinese?

The resulting lengthy stare showed disbelief or continued confusion. Or, I'm inclined to think both. "Of all the places in the entire galaxy, why is he picking bases within a System Lord's territory?" The star-map returned its results. There was a beat of silence, and then Sujanha continued, voice rising subtly as she spoke, "On a planet that far within his territory?" Her voice cut off abruptly at the end, and she reached for her tea mug with her left hand.

"The weather on the surface is dangerous, especially for humans," Ragnar rumbled in reply. "There is a Stargate, but it is located within a desert that stretches across almost the entire land-mass. The lack of water and extreme temperatures and the trouble of relocating the Stargate means that the planet seems to have never been inhabited."

Deserts: brutally hot in the day and freezing cold at night … a nasty combination. Sounds familiar.

"Hiding within the rakso's nest." The what's nest? (The idiom was almost exactly the same as the English one, but he still did not know what a rakso was … but I might not want to know.) "Risky but effective," Sujanha noted, half to herself, but then her attention turned back to Asik, still standing in the doorway, "Why does he want to speak with me? Ushuotis is Elder Brother's base, not one of my shipyards."

Asik gave a helpless shrug. "He failed to explain that point. All he said was that his commander had sent him with a message for you.

"Very well," Sujanha replied with a sigh, making a come-hither motion with one paw, "Let him in."

Ragnar returned to his seat, and Asik withdrew with a slight bow, and a minute later, a young man (human, at least visibly), with sun-bleached hair and slightly oversized hands with long fingers and big feet … one of the Boii then … entered. Dressed in clothes suitable for not dying of heat prostration with the insignia of the Furling Army on his collar, he stopped exactly half-way between Sujanha's desk and the door, came to attention, and gave a textbook salute.

"Your name, soldier, and your commander's?"

"Nakix, Supreme Commander," the soldier—Nakix—replied, "I serve under Usprar Trujit."

That sounds like a Lapith name.

"Why have you come?" Sujanha asked, "Ushuotis is under Supreme Commander Anarr's supervision and command, not mine."

"The morning patrol found an intruder, half dead from the cold and his wounds, near the Stargate. We took him back to base and healed him. In doing so, we found that he had a symbiote."

"This concerns me how?" Sujanha asked. To Daniel, she seemed exasperated, which combined with the lights that had been dimmed all day, her reluctance to eat anything, and the way her right hand, which she had moved off the desk when Nakix entered, had kept twitching involuntarily all screamed that today was not a good day. As hard as she tried, her temper was shorter the worst she felt. Almost 500 years of living with these and other symptoms gave new, horrifying meaning to the term chronic illness. "There are protocols in place for such an occurrence. Heal the host, and then transfer the Goa'uld to a prison world."

"That's the problem, Commander," Nakix replied apologetically, "Commander Trujit and the healers do not believe that our prisoner is a Goa'uld."

That got Sujanha's attention. She straightened with a start of surprise, her laser-like gaze suddenly focusing intently on the soldier. "Explain!"

"The intruder was suffering from several severe injuries, including a blow to the back of the head at the base of the skull that—our healer believes—has injured our symbiote. Our technology is not made to heal such races, and since the symbiotes have a healing factor of their own, the healers thought it wiser to let the symbiote heal on its own. The host's behavior is not matching with one freed from a long imprisonment within his own mind and body. He is wary of us but has been polite and seems quite worried about his symbiote, though he has attempted to conceal that fact." Nakix finished summarizing the situation succinctly and fell silent.

"Interesting!" said Sujanha, her black eyes distant as she mulled over the situation. "My thanks. You are dismissed and may return to base." (Daniel noted that she had never said that she would actually come to Ushuotis to speak with the host and symbiote, though that result seemed the whole point of Nakix's visit.)

Sujanha's life was a study in balance. A time and labor-intensive, stressful job with earth-shattering implications … possibly literally and figuratively … if her choices were wrong, all that was balanced against a chronic illness that was at times almost crippling in its effects and the pain it caused. How far could she push the envelope, how long and hard could she work before her body simply gave out on her? More than once so far Daniel had seen her push too far and end up confined to bed for a day or more. Sujanha's devotion to the Fleet was often single-minded, almost dangerously so when she pushed her body to the edge, despite the attempts of Daniel, her other aids, and her bodyguards and other subordinates at headquarters to do as much of the legwork as possible for her.

It was times just like this, times where she needed to go off world, where the risks and the benefits had to be weighed. Daniel had learned many of her tells in the last seven months … earth months, catalogued the pinched gaze and set of her jaw and her refusal to eat that meant she was hurting badly, the way she sometimes tucked her right arm away in her pocket or in her lap when her muscles were twitching/shaking too much to keep her hand still, the way she pushed herself to her feet with her paws clinched around the edge of her desk or the handles of her chair like she was afraid her right leg would collapse under her. High-tech leg brace or not.

Janet would kill to have access to some of the med tech I've seen here!

In those seven months, Daniel had only twice seen her bedridden, though there had been multiple other times when he … and Ragnar and Ruarc and Asik and Jaax … all thought that Sujanha would have been much better off in bed than at work, when it seemed like sheer strength of will … or utter stubbornness … was the only thing keeping her upright. What Daniel didn't understand for sure was why. Why did Sujanha push herself that hard? From all he knew about the poison that had nearly killed her and left her with a lifelong disability, it was debilitating and horrifically painful. He admired her resolve not to lie down and feel sorry for herself. Having a chronic illness, a disability never made a person less, never made a person useless, though it could force one to adapt to changed circumstances. But why did she push herself to the edge of her limits and sometimes beyond? Sujanha was well-liked by all of her soldiers and commanders than Daniel had meant. He had heard nothing but good about her from the rank-and-file. What did she have to prove and to whom, if that, by pushing herself so hard? Who knows?

The question for today was: would she try to go?

Silence fell over the office for several minutes after Nakix left as Sujanha stared off into space. Someone else can go. You've done enough this week. You don't always have to push yourself so hard. Daniel looked across at Ragnar and then at Asik, back in the doorway. Ragnar looked about one step away from protesting if Sujanha decided to go. After another minute, Sujanha pushed herself painstakingly slowly to her feet, allowing herself to control her rise to make it look easier than it was. "Asik, please go upstairs and update Elder Brother. If he is absent, give the message to one of his aids to pass on. Ragnar, please send for your brother. I wish to see this newcomer for myself."

Why? Why? Daniel was almost certain she was going to pay for the decision the next day. A muscle in Ragnar's jaw was quivering, but somehow, he had remained silent.

Part of me expected this, but for heaven's sake, what do you have to prove?

You're going to drive yourself to an early grave at this rate if you aren't careful.


It took less than ten minutes for Ragnar to locate his brother and for Ruarc to return to headquarters from wherever he had disappeared off to late in the morning. As soon as Sujanha had wrapped up her current business, finishing up a couple of reports and signing a couple of more forms, the four left headquarters and beamed across to the Hall of the Stargate. The limp Sujanha had had at headquarters seemed to have evened out by the time they wound their way to the inner hall and the Stargate had begun to dial, but from the stiff way she was holding herself, the disappearance of her limp did not mean that she was actually doing better. The pain in her face had vanished behind a blank mask.

Daniel glanced across at Ruarc and caught his eye, making a concerned frown and flicking his eyes toward Sujanha's back. (Living among the Furling had taught him how to say a lot with small expressions and how to catch those small expressions in return.) Ruarc scowled, his ears flattening against his head for a moment, but gave a helpless shrug. He doesn't agree, but there's nothing he can do. Her bodyguards could disagree with Sujanha, try to steer her decisions, but ultimately once she decided, it was their job to obey unless there was immediate physical danger, in which case it was their job to protect her and get her out of there.

The Stargate finished dialing. It opened with a kawoosh, its bright blue light sending jagged shadows across the room from the great carvings that lined the Hall. Ruarc and Ragnar stepped forward past Sujanha and stepped into the wormhole first, Sujanha following a few steps behind, Daniel at her side.

The first thing about Ushuotis that registered was the burning, stifling heat that smacked Daniel in the face. It, at least on first impression, seemed worse than Abydos on a bad day. From the position of the glaring sun—Daniel had to shade his eyes with one hand to even see more than spots—it might not even be the heat of the day yet. Yikes! Rolling sand dunes stretched as far as the eye could see, though granted, that was not very far since they were standing in what was probably a wadi. Beneath him was sand that sucked at his feet with every step. A few steps away from the Stargate, Sujanha stumbled slightly on one step but steadied after a moment, a pointed glare keeping Ruarc from dropping back to offer her his arm.

A few moments later, the four were beamed away, preventing any more battles with sun or sand. When the light had faded, Daniel saw that they were now in a large underground passageway carved from stone. The air was cool and pleasantly moist, not dry as dust like on the surface. Given those dunes, we might be a hundred feet below the surface. At least on earth, sand dunes could range from inches deep to 70-140 feet deep in the Sahara. Maybe deeper to protect/conceal the base. Three people were waiting there to greet them: a Lapith with dark green scales and a slowly undulating tail, possibly the base commander, and two Maskilim guards whose builds made them more suited for desert-work.

Did she send word after all?

Apparently, given the welcoming committee?

We weren't up topside long enough to assemble one, I wouldn't think.

"Your messenger tells me that you have had an unusual visitor, Commander Trujit," Sujanha began, instead of a greeting. Inside and in safety, Ragnar and Ruarc had dropped back several paces, leaving Sujanha in front and Daniel still at her right hand.

"We have, Supreme Commander," Commander Trujit replied. He spoke perfect Furling except with a sibilant twist to some consonants. It had taken time for Daniel to be able to understand them reliably while he was still learning Furling. "The symbiote is slowly healing, but the host remains in control. His behavior is still inconsistent with that of a Goa'uld host. However, I am keeping him confined until proof of his identity and people is known or until I am ordered differently. I left two of my Zukish soldiers to guard him and speak with him. Perhaps we will learn something that way."

"I concur," Sujanha replied simply, "If you would have us shown to his cell…"

"Of course, Commander," Commander Trujit replied, inclining his head. With a quick hand-gesture, he dismissed the other guards and then started down the hallway, leaving the newcomers to follow. As they walked, he continued, "He is in an isolation room in the healing halls for now. Whether his symbiote is Goa'uld or Tok'ra, the healers wanted them under close observation until the symbiote is healed."

(Like with the nations that had signed the Geneva Convention on earth, the Furling Empire had extremely strict standards on how prisoners, even those of their worst enemies, were to be treated, standards that had been updated and strengthened since the end of the Great War. Daniel had heard Sujanha discussing them sometimes with her brother Anarr along with the in-progress rules of engagement for the war with the Goa'uld.

The Great War had gone downhill for the Furlings and their allies in part because of the Enemy's … I wonder what they were really called before the damnatio memoriae … torture of and experimentation on prisoners. The lists of prisoners whose bodies had never been recovered was nauseatingly long, and Daniel knew that there were still excavations ongoing on some of the Enemy's former worlds to try to bring those missing soldiers home. The treatment they had suffered had only strengthened the resolve of the Furlings to never sink to that level, no matter the outcome of their wars, no matter the cost. War crimes/crimes against humanity on the level of the Goa'uld or the Enemy was one of the few crimes that actually carried a death sentence under Furling law.)

The subterranean compound on Ushuotis was sprawling. Commander Trujit led them down tunnel after tunnel, all of which were part of one large complex. Is this a military base or the Labyrinth? The compound had to have been built into the bedrock beneath the sand dunes, and the tunnel walls were of stone so smoothly polished and cut they almost shone.

This is carved straight out of stone, not constructed from stone blocks. I don't see any seams, however fine.

The main tunnels they were traveling through were wide enough for several people to walk abreast—or would be once the copious numbers of boxes and crates stacked neatly along the walls were moved—though other side tunnels were narrower.

Even these main tunnels … we just had to go single file, and there weren't more rows of boxes.

No close side tunnels. That must be a choke point in case the tunnels are breached.

The tunnels, at least where they were walking currently, were about ten feet high.

These aren't tiny. Some of the tunnels beneath the pyramids are so much smaller.

Still glad I'm not claustrophobic.

Only a few soldiers passed them as Commander Trujit led them to the infirmary, several of whom Sujanha greeted by name. She had an excellent memory for names and faces, Daniel had noticed, though not anywhere as good as Jaax, and often greeted low-ranking commanders or aids and support personnel by name when she passed them or was drawn into conversation.

I think that's one reason they love her. Despite ongoing political difficulties with the High Council, Sujanha's support among the rank-and-file in both branches of the military was immense.

The ward into which Commander Trujit led them was a large, rectangular room with a row of bed on both long walls. High-tech holographic screens were projected on the wall above the heads of any occupied beds, displaying the vital signs and other pertinent information about the injured occupant. Or at least I'm assuming that's what that means. Medical terms are confusing whatever the language. Only two beds were currently occupied: one by a young person, who looked human, with an arm thrown across their face and another by a Maskilim with a heavily bandaged and splinted foot. A hallway crossed the other end of the ward, and there were also several doorways that led to separate rooms. One was a storage room, given the number of boxes and shelves, and the other three were isolation rooms.

Warning signs like that are hard to misinterpret in any language.

"He is in that room." The Lapith Commander motioned to the rightmost door of the four. "The guards are just inside the doorway. A portable shield has been effected two paces from the door to guarantee his confinement without further measures being required."

Like restraints? On earth, the host might have found himself in five-point restraints in an isolation room with armed guards inside and out. Not exactly a good way to start off a relationship … if he's actually Tok'ra.

But … Sujanha was saying something, so Daniel dragged his attention back to her, "Once the guards leave, Ragnar, Ruarc, you know what to do. Daniel, you have had more interactions with the Goa'uld, and I wish your opinion on this visitor of ours."

So I'm coming, too. Uh … okay.

There were answering ascents made.

"Commander, the healers who tended him were also human," Commander Trujit reminded her quickly. "He has seen no others of us. Be prepared."

(Daniel remembered what it had been like that first day on Gaia when Sujanha, Ragnar, and Ruarc had stepped through the Stargate. Aside from Unas on Cimmeria, the Asgard, and Nem, all the people they had come across were human in appearance … or close enough to human as with the Nox. The Furlings were … quite a shock.)

"Of course. Your assistance is appreciated. Please, do not let us keep you from our other duties," Sujanha said. She had no direct authority over any commanders within the Furling Army, but they appeared to obey as readily as they did Anarr.

The base commander departed, leaving Daniel and the others alone in the ward, except for the two sleeping patients. There was a moment where nothing seemed to happen except, possibly, Sujanha steeling herself for something, and then she swiped her hand across the door-opening crystal. Silently, the isolation room door slid open, revealing what lay within.

The only furniture in the room was a single bed at the far end, though there was a small door that probably led off into a bathroom. A small box, likely the portable shield generator that had been mentioned, sat on the floor several feet away from the door. The two human guards stood leaning against the wall on either side of the door.

The host—a young man—was sitting cross-legged upon the bed, a tray of abandoned food beside him. Pale skin and thin, pinched features that indicated that he had not had enough to eat for a bit. Short-cropped brown hair. Furling-style tunic and trousers just ill-fitting enough that Daniel guessed that they had been dug-out of a box of supplies or, possibly, borrowed from someone's wardrobe. He looks ill. The host looked young, but given that he was a host, the appearance of age meant basically nothing.

"Come!" Sujanha commanded in Furling to the two guards who had instantly straightened when the door opened, the final threads of the ongoing conversation ending instantly. And now Daniel understood why Ruarc had passed Sujanha and him translators before they left Uslisgas. The two guards had been speaking Goa'uld to the host. Due to his fluency in Abydonian and what Teal'c had taught him, Daniel had a solid knowledge of the Goa'uld's language, which Egyptian and Abydonian were derivatives of, but the translator would be a good back-up. As far as Daniel knew, Sujanha's knowledge of Goa'uld at the moment was basically null.

The host snapped straight at the sight of Sujanha's strange form silhouetted in the doorway. The sudden movement brought a momentary flash of pain across his face before it vanished as quickly as it had come. Astonishment and confusion followed, flashing across his open face in quick succession, before a make-shift blank mask completed the array of emotions.

The two guards exited the isolation ward. Sujanha caught the arm of the last one out and spoke to him quickly in an undertone for a moment, before dismissing both guards back to their regular posts. Then Sujanha entered, with Daniel and her bodyguards following, and the door slid shut behind them. Ragnar and Ruarc moved right, while Sujanha and Daniel went left.

"How fare you?" Sujanha asked bluntly in Furling, her translator echoing with the closest equivalent in Goa'uld a moment later. There were no chairs in the room, probably because having movable furniture in a room holding a prisoner was a bad idea … the shield seems to be a late addition, and the Commander was leaning against the wall, her weight heavily on her left leg. Her arms were crossed across her chest … human body language … it would make her look intimidating … though it was probably a tactic to support her weaker right arm. Tucking her arm away and not using it would have been painfully obvious.

"I am better," the host replied. I wish I knew a name. "I give thanks to you for that reason. I feared when I came through the Chappa'ai that I was dying. Are you the commander of this base?"

"No," Sujanha replied honestly, "but close enough for the purposes of this discussion." The man's eyes narrowed slightly at her words. (Technically, Anarr would hold that role, but Daniel had noticed how command structures at the very top sometimes seemed to get blurred. Whether that was because Anarr and Sujanha were brother and sister or that was just how the Furlings did things, he wasn't sure.)

"Why am I being kept here?" He asked after a long pause.

As if you don't know the answer?

"On account of the same creature inside you that has been causing you concern ever since you awoke here," Sujanha replied bluntly. She was not one to beat around the bush, preferring to get straight to the point. It seemed to be a general characteristic of most Furlings Daniel had met.

Okay. He can get paler.

He's not about to faint, is he?

There was no point in directly asking the host if he and his symbiote were Tok'ra. If their belief was wrong and this was actually a Goa'uld, minor ranking or not, … well, the Goa'uld had not kept themselves in power galaxy-wide for so many millennia by being morons … generally? There's probably a few that are. They were evil. They were parasitic in their behavior, but they weren't stupid. They schemed, and they planned. Any symbiote with a modicum of brains or foresight IF he was not so immediately incensed that he answered instinctively without thinking could try to trick them by saying yes.

Similarly, any Tok'ra would be insane to actually admit he was a Tok'ra before knowing more about whom he was making the admission in front of and whether he was going to be promptly executed or, worse, handed over to a System Lord to be tortured and then executed and probably resurrected with a sarcophagus for the torture to continue. (Daniel shivered just thinking about it.) The host clearly had no idea who they were—the shock at Sujanha's appearance would have been extremely hard to fake, Daniel thought—so it was going to be interesting to see how Sujanha led the conversation to get the information she needed.

Did he think we didn't know about his symbiote?

Well, he has no idea who we are.

"Tell me," Sujanha continued, and the full weight of the authority she could bring as Supreme Commander was in her voice, "and speak truthfully, why did you come to this place?"

A slow minute passed with no answer. The young man appeared to be thinking or, perhaps, planning his answer. Sujanha did not press him to speak, but her gaze never wavered from his face, which Daniel knew would be in itself intimidating. Cute and cuddly, the Furlings were not, and her unblinking black eyes … well …

"We had no intention of coming to this world, wherever it is," was the final slow reply. The switch from singular to plural seemed deliberate. The symbiote's presence was known, so why continue speaking as if it were not. "We were attacked and tried to make our escape through the Chappa'ai, but I misdialed. I do not know where we are or who you and your people are, nor does La … my symbiote."

Sujanha made no visible reaction to the host's slip of the tongue, but Daniel had no doubt that she had picked up on the slip. The host seemed to be getting more uneasy by the minute. He would have been doing a solid job of hiding it with most anyone but the Furlings, who were experts at picking up on slight body language cues or the slightest variations in a person's voice.

He has no idea what to expect with Sujanha.

Given Jolinar's behavior … unless this guy's new to their ranks, he would know what to do in the face of a Goa'uld … assuming he's Tok'ra.

Just not in front of Sujanha.

The healers healed him, but he's probably still rattled, and he doesn't look well yet. He's off his game.

"Attacked by whom?" Sujanha asked forcefully.

For several long minutes, he just stared at her. "By whom?" Sujanha asked again, this time a bit more forcefully.

"Jaffa belonging to Heru'ur," he finally answered reluctantly, seeming to realize that he might be better off answering than trying to keep silent. His answer could mean one of at least three things, Daniel guessed: Heru'ur and his personal guard, Jaffa of Heru'ur generally, or possibly and more loosely, underlings of Heru'ur and their Jaffa.

Though the last's probably a stretch.

Doesn't mean he's actually Tok'ra, though.

The Goa'uld turned on each other, too.

Daniel missed most of the low-voiced comment Ruarc made to Sujanha in Furling moment later. His voice was soft, but it was something about the respective locations of the territories of Heru'ur and Yu in relation to one another. He was speaking in Furling, and Sujanha's translator, the only one set-up to translate from Furling into Goa'uld, was cued to her voice alone. (Daniel, Ruarc, and Ragnar were only wearing the earpieces that would translate the Goa'uld back into Furling.)

The host—Goa'uld or Tok'ra—did not understand Furling, but even with Ruarc's accent, the names of Yu and Heru'ur, a reference to the Goa'uld, and an unrelated random gesture in the host's direction would have been clear no matter the language. And at that moment, the host slipped. What thoughts were going through his mind, only he knew, whether or not he thought they thought he was Goa'uld. But for a moment his mask, however rattled, slipped, and a mixture of revulsion and hatred flashed across his face and eyes for a split second at the mention of the Goa'uld. It was the type of revulsion and hatred directed at the Goa'uld generally and not Yu or Heru'ur in particular.

No Tok'ra would appreciate being compared to or called a Goa'uld.

The slip was only for a moment, but that one moment was enough for Sujanha to learn what she needed to know. "So it is as we thought," her voice was quiet, "You are Tok'ra. Your face betrays you."

Horror swept across the young host's face, which went deathly pale a split second later. He's not about to faint, is he? He straightened, and his chin came up, as if he was visibly steeling himself for what might come next. If we were Goa'uld, he just sealed his own fate.

Sujanha straightened and saluted him in the Furling fashion. "You are welcome among us."

Daniel saw a wave of emotion cross the host's face—I really wish I knew his name, since thinking of him only in terms of his symbiote seemed wrong—confusion and fear and bewilderment. Then, in an instant, his posture and body language changed abruptly and completely. This was the symbiote. "What do you want with us?" The words were said in a low growl, roughened by the dual-flanged voice of the symbiote, a voice that still put chills down Daniel's spine.

"My greetings," Sujanha was unruffled by the angry emergence of the symbiote, "I am pleased to see you awake. You both were injured when we found you, and our healing skills were not made with beings like you in mind."

"What does it matter to you?" The symbiote bit out.

"Because we have a common foe, and I have heard of the bravery and courage of the Tok'ra as they resist the long defeat," Sujanha replied, "All will be explained in time." She turned to Ruarc. "Find the healer," she instructed in Furling.

Ruarc departed swiftly without a word, and Ragnar shifted closer to the commander. Sujanha turned back to the watching symbiote—a blank mask had replaced his momentary disbelief at Sujanha's mention of a common foe—and spoke again, "Do you have a name?"

There was a long minute of silence. The two might have been talking mentally before the symbiote replied more calmly, "I am called Lantash."

"And your host? I would know his name, as well."

"Martouf," Lantash replied before asking bluntly, "Who are you?"

"I am Sujanha. My bodyguards, Ragnar and Ruarc, who just went to locate a healer; and one of my aids, Daniel Jackson."

There was another abrupt change in posture and body language. "From Earth … and SG1?" Martouf asked cautiously … and in English, though there was evident surprise in his face.

Daniel straightened and pushed away from the wall. How'd he know? Did earth make contact with the Tok'ra? He glanced across at Sujanha, wordlessly asking if he should answer or not. After a moment, she nodded assent. "I was born there, yes," Daniel replied, switching back to English. "I was exiled over a year ago."

Martouf relaxed, and a small smile swept across his face, "Your SG1-Colonel O'Neill, Samantha, and Teal'c-came to our world some months ago, seeking us and proved … a great help."

"They were doing well then?" Daniel asked impulsively. Now was not at all the best moment to ask, he realized the moment after the words came out of his mouth, but he was eager for news of his friends. Bra'tac had had no recent news the last time they had met, and Daniel just could not help asking. Sujanha gave him a look that he couldn't decipher at his question but didn't chide him, even in Furling.

"They were," Martouf confirmed. A moment later, he bowed his head, and with a flash of eyes, Lantash was back in control.

"Who are you?" The symbiote asked bluntly, "Your race is not known to me."

Sujanha flashed a sign, and Ragnar stepped forward and, after crouching by the shield generator and making several quick motions, dropped the shield. "My people are called the Furlings," she answered, "We dwelt in this galaxy long ago."

Lantash's eyes narrowed. "Why did you return?"

"To see the Goa'uld fall. They are a plague and a stain upon this galaxy. It is time their reign ends," Sujanha replied easily, "Rebel factions within the ranks of the Jaffa have always pledged their aid to our strength, and we hope that the Tok'ra might, as well."

"What do you want from the Tok'ra?" Martouf was back in control. A seamless switch.

"Intelligence. Strength of arms loses much of its value without knowledge of where to strike." The Furlings had learned much from Bra'tac and the Rebel Jaffa, but Sujanha was nothing if not thorough. No one wanted a repeat of any of the disasters of the Great War.

There was another long silence, as Martouf and Lantash seemed to speak to each other silently again. "We cannot tell you what you wish to know without permission, but we will bear your message to the Tok'ra High Council. It will be their decision."

"I understand," Sujanha replied, straightening up from her slouch against the wall.

"Are we free to depart?"

"You are, though I would prefer that you allow a healer to examine you first. Once you are ready to depart, one of my guards will escort you to the gate and teach you the symbols of this world. You or any of your people are free to return at any time, whether or not you agree to aid us."


Three days later, a soldier brought the news to Uslisgas that a Tok'ra elder named Garshaw had arrived on Ushuotis. Sujanha had paid the price of forcing herself past her limit to go meet Martouf-Lantash and did not feel like going off world, so she was not involved in the discussions and negotiations between the Tok'ra High Council and the Furling High Command until the very end, Supreme Commander Anarr and High Commander Algar being the main ones for the Furlings. (Like with the Rebel Jaffa, this was currently a strictly military alliance between the Tok'ra and the Furling military, not between the Tok'ra and the Furling Empire, which did not necessitate the involvement of official ambassadors and a lot of resulting hoops.) Within a week, an alliance was formed. Backed by the Tok'ra and the Rebel Jaffa, the Furlings were on the cusp of declaring war. The days of the Goa'uld were numbered.