35nd of Vekix, Summer, 6545 A.S.
(January 4, 1999)
Ocelum, Asteria

Ocelum, the main shipyard of the Furling Fleet and, was one of only two other habitable planets—moons not included—in the same system as Uslisgas itself. After thousands of years of use as a shipyard with more than a few mishaps and crashes during the worst years of the Great War, it was not a pleasant planet to look at. The buildings that surrounded the Stargate, housing workers and workshops alike, were utilitarian in the extreme, lacking even the basic aesthetic value of basic housing on Uslisgas and bore the scars of heavy work, more than a few mishaps, and not enough cleaning. Those buildings were built to endure the worst of treatments and to contain mishaps that occurred inside. The surface of the planet, also, was pockmarked with craters from where damaged ships had barely limped back to safety, landing hard on the surface, or farther away from the Stargate, where experimental weaponry had exploded with nearly disastrous results.

Ships of all classes and shapes could be found waiting in orbit around Ocelum, resting on the planet's surface, docked in one of the bays floating just above the planet's surface, casting long, heavy shadows on the ground below. (Yet more reasons that little grew on Ocelum.) The anti-gravity technology that the Nox used to keep their cities afloat and that they had long ago shared with the allies had been put to good use by the Furlings in these maintenance bays.

Furling warships were largely identical to the design of the Asgard Bilskirnir-class motherships, the main external difference being that the Furlings had given cleaner lines to the originally blocky ship. All current classes of Furling warships were based on that same basic design as the Bilskirnir-class, with only size varying between the motherships, the massive flagships, and the smaller cruisers. The Furling flagships were especially striking for their hulking size, almost half again as large as the Bilskirnir itself or any of its sister-ships. In comparison, Goa'uld Hat'taks would be dwarfed by their bulk, and the main cargo bay of the Furling flagships was large enough to contain the much smaller ships of some of the Furlings' allies.

Not only Furling ships could be found at Ocelum. On any given day, Asgard warships or science vessels might be present, coming in for supplies or repairs before returning to Ida after completing duties in Asteria. Of the Furlings' most powerful allies, the Dovahkiin had no ships of their own, but both the Etrairs and the Lapiths had powerful ships with intra-galactic hyperdrives, while the more powerful Ipyrsh were the only other race in the galaxy with hyperdrives that could cross the voids between galaxies.

Of all the allied warships, those of the Ipyrsh were the most striking. In contrast to the powerful personal armor of their people, the Iprysh ships, visibly, seemed surprisingly frail. Long and slender, cylindrical in shape, these behemoth ships were fitting with the technological advancement of the Iprysh as visible through the heavy-armor all members of their race wore. There were signs of thick armor plating, especially near the center of the ship, guarding against a lucky shot doing vital damage and breaking the ship in half. Gun turrets rose from the surface of the ship like pock-marks at regular intervals. Between their armor plating, weapons, and powerful shields, Iprysh warships made for powerful opponents.


By the time the fourth month of the year was waning towards its end, Sujanha was forced to conclude that she had not spent so much time continuously on Ocelum … in nearly one-hundred years … since the latter days of the Great War. Almost one month had passed since Martouf-Lantash, a Tok'ra operative, had stumbled upon a Furling base in Avalon, and about two months had passed since Master Bra'tac of the Free Jaffa had found the Furling scouts. In those months, buoyed by new alliances with both peoples, the Furlings had made great strides in preparing for war, gathering intelligence, stockpiling supplies to be loaded on the warships and transport ships, taking other supplies and what weapons of war could be transported through the Stargate to their hidden bases in Avalon. The last of the allied contingents, both troops and ships of all classes, were spilling into the various rendezvous points across Asteria, ready for battle, ready to depart.

The departure date for Avalon was set as the first of Ea, the fifth month, less than a week away. There was so much to do, so much to oversee, so much paperwork to read and sign, and there were only five days left before the Fleet and the Army would depart for Avalon. So much to do, and so little time left to do it all in.

Being Supreme Commander even of a Fleet that was a shadow of its former power involved more days of tedium than shining hours of glory. Over half-a-million soldiers and over 700 ships were currently under her direct command—738, to be precise—a number far smaller than it had once been. The allied contingents had thankfully brought their own commanders who could be, at least, nominally slotted into the existing Furling command structures. Transporting, housing, feeding, and equipping those many soldiers—all those crewing every ship plus all of Anarr's soldiers plus all allied soldiers—as well as keeping those many ships in working order took a tremendous amount of time and effort from the entire Furling High Command. Even with support staff and lower-ranking commanders taking care of many tasks and with responsibilities being delegated as necessary, Sujanha had only found her days growing longer and longer during the past month, especially.

And on top of fleet business, there were also the tedious but necessary political niceties inherent in folding in multiple allied contingents with their own commanders, customs, and orders of battle as well as dealing with the high-ranking officials from multiple courts who usually appeared temporarily as the contingents did.

Politics.

Sujanha disliked politics and political wrangling.

Or perhaps hated would be a better word.

If she had been raised at the Furling Court, perhaps she would have thought differently.

Sujanha's gifts lay toward the mind. The Asgardian blood that she had inherited from both her mother and father's lines had made her physically frailer, so it was said, but had given her a fraction of their more advanced mental capacity. Her cunning brilliance when it came to strategic and tactical matters coupled with a gift for detailed battle-plans that were usually several steps ahead of her enemies, gifts flavored with what her detractors called "reckless daring," had made her a once-in-a-generation commander.

The patience and subtlety that she easily applied to military matters … well, she struggled with the same in political circles. Sujanha was blunt and straight-forward in manner with a cold temper, and while she could talk the talk and could perform the social niceties of multiple races at multiple courts, politics and political wrangling would always be her weakness. Her declining health made sitting or standing at great length while courtiers and high officials danced around each other all the more frustrating.

When Sujanha's thoughts went especially dark, she did note that her ill-health would be of one benefit to her. Given that the line of succession to the throne of the Furling Empire went in order of age—meaning that even the Crown Prince's son was fifth (of six, currently), not second—Sujanha was third in line behind the Crown Prince—the eldest and only of Ivarr's sons to survive the war—and her own brother. Unless the Crown Prince or Anarr died even younger than the healers said Sujanha would, meeting some unfortunate accident or dying in battle, Sujanha would never have to worry about becoming High Queen.


Almost half again as large as a Biliskner-class warship, the Valhalla—Sujanha's flagship which she had renamed in honor of the Asgard upon becoming Supreme Commander—was a sprawling, flying fortress. Many systems were, at least, partially automated, meaning that the Valhalla had a comparatively small crew for a non-Asgardian ship of its size. Miles upon miles of nearly identical slate-grey corridors, deck upon deck upon deck, that echoed with the sound of footsteps and carried the murmur of voices in many languages made the ship seem more populated than its small crew would suggest. That simultaneously made the ship a nightmare to navigate for new crew members.

I hope Daniel can learn the ship quickly.

His old base sounds like it was rather labyrinthic like the Valhalla.

Perhaps that will help.

Sujanha knew every line of her ship. In some ways it had been more of a home to her the past five-hundred some years than her own house on Uslisgas or, especially, the suite of rooms that was hers by right in the Imperial Palace. That I use like once a year, if that. That being said, the only two places that she frequented regularly were the bridge on one of the upper decks and her office near the heart of the ship, beaming between the two as needed to ease the strain on her body. This afternoon Sujanha found herself in her office, which for simplicity's sake was laid out almost identically to her office at Headquarters. Everything was close enough to the same to ease the transition between offices and just barely enough different to occasionally confuse her.

To make me wonder for a moment if my wits are failing me and not just my body.

And then I hear the humming of the ship, and I remember I am in the wrong office.

There was much to be done on the Valhalla before departure: supplies to be loaded, systems to be checked, diagnostics to be run, and so on. All that was thankfully nothing for which Sujanha was responsible. She frequently thanked the Maker for the competent engineers and efficient bridge-crew with which her ship had been staffed. Her bridge-crew, as well as her Chief Engineer and Chief Armorer, had almost all been with her through the latter half of her time as Supreme Commander, and they all worked together well. Though she personally oversaw operations on the bridge during all battles for which she was present, the rest of the time basically she told her crew the end result that she needed done, and they quietly and efficiently did what needed to be done without any oversight necessary.

Which makes things much simpler.

Sujanha took a sip of tea from the cup on her desk and promptly resisted the urge to grimace. The tea was growing cold. Spiced tea was tolerable cold but much better hot. The noise of her bodyguards and of Asik moving about in the outer office getting settled or reorganizing or something was a soothing murmur.

Daniel should be here soon. He had remained on Uslisgas that morning to finish some other tasks for her, and now that the lunch-hour had passed, he would probably arrive soon.

Sujanha pulled up the list of tasks still to be completed on the Valhalla and started scanning through it. As much as she trusted her subordinates, she still liked to be aware of what was going on in her own ship.

It was a long list.

Crates of emergency rations from the Asgard still to be delivered.

Program update for … some system … still to be run by an Asgard engineer. Asik had helpfully included a line of information about which particular program and which particular system, but for all her ability to create detailed battle-plans for conflicts that stretched across solar systems and included ships and troops from multiple militaries, program and system names often seemed to be rewritten in a completely separate and incomprehensible language even when in Furling.

Crew still to arrive. Expected.

Complete systems checks … including shields.

Delivery of weapons for the armory. Who was responsible for those goods? Asik hadn't noted, and multiple races, including the Furlings and several of their allies, were responsible for different types of weaponry with which the ships were stocked and the army was armed. Different races were especially skilled in the making of certain goods, and different races were especially skilled in some fighting styles, factoring in body types and natural environments. The Dovahkiin and the Furlings, for example, fought drastically differently because, for instance, the Dovahkiin had wings. Wings could be used to great effect in many ways on the battlefield in some circumstances but were a weakness, at best, or useless, at worst, in other circumstances.

Like on a ship. Wings are no good in these corridors.

Or in tunnels.

The sound of voices in the outer office drew Sujanha's attention away from the list. There was a new voice in the murmuring. Daniel had returned. A few words drifted in through the open door, something about how large the ships were and how confusing the hallways were. It had been over half-a-year since Daniel had come to Uslisgas, and overtime his wide-eyed wonder with everything, or so it seemed some days, had slowly faded as he grew accustomed to his new life, but the ships … are very striking … for their size, if nothing else.

A few minutes passed, and then Daniel entered the inner office, dropping into a chair with a quick nod of respect. "All done," he said. "What else can I do?"

"Nothing for the moment," Sujanha replied. "My thanks. Have you eaten?"

Daniel nodded. "I bought food in the Great Market before I came back." He paused, his brow furrowing for a moment. "Oh, I almost forgot. I met Jaax at headquarters. He asked me to pass a message to you with his apologies for leaving without speaking with you first. An emergency message came in for him late this morning, so he was leaving for Procater.[1] He said that he would be back by nightfall, though."

A worried look passed across Sujanha's eyes before calm stillness returned. His parents and his … elder brother's … I think … children are still living. Has ill befallen them? "My thanks. It was right of him to go. I do not need aid from all of you currently, anyway. Asik?"

Asik appeared in the doorway, a frown or a scowl cemented on his face. What's wrong? "Yes, Commander?"

"Send a message to Jaax, please," Sujanha ordered. "Tell him that he does not need to return tonight. I will need his assistance when it comes time to depart, but we can make do without him in the meantime." There was a questioning upward lilt on the last sentence, as if she were seeking confirmation that Daniel and Asik were willing to do the extra work. They both nodded.

"Of course, Commander. I will do that momentarily," Asik replied. The concerned look in his eyes and face grew stronger. "But Commander …" He hesitated, his voice trailing off.

What's this about? Sujanha met Daniel's eyes, a questioning look in her eyes. Do you know? Daniel shrugged. He apparently did not know either.

"What's wrong?" Sujanha asked, swiping away the screens she had up and giving her aid her full attention.

"The last shipment of weapons for the armory has arrived with the last of the Dovahkiin contingent coming to Ocelum." Asik paused, hesitating again. "The High Princess Zulaar is escorting them. She wishes to speak with you."

Sujanha flinched minutely.

Stars in Heaven!

As if this week could not get any worse.

She cut herself off mentally from that useless train of thought—self-pity did no good—and forced herself to focus. As much as she disliked dealing with the High Princess and was secretly thankful anytime when dealings with her could be avoided, Sujanha had to maintain a standard of conduct in her dealings with Zulaar. Thoughts like that had no purpose.

Sujanha forced her attention back to the room. Ragnar and Ruarc were lingering in the doorway, scowls in both their eyes. Asik was still just inside the doorway, a very regretful look on his face. Daniel just looked confused. He had not been with the Furlings long enough to learn about the complicated mess that was the relationship between Sujanha and the Dovahkiin Court.

"Very well," Sujanha said with a sigh and a nod. "Have her sent up. Asik, stay long enough to announce her and then take a break. The rest of you, find somewhere else to be. I'll call for you when I'm done."

The confused look on Daniel's face grew stronger, a lingering thread of wariness joining it, but there was a chorus of nods and words of assent. Asik returned to the outer office, and Daniel and her two bodyguards filed out. Just before the door to the corridor closed, Daniel's soft-voiced question drifted back, "I thought the Dovahkiin were our allies?"

They are … one of our strongest.

They are … despite what I did.

Zulaar just hates me.

The minutes passed slowly. Asik had only said that Zulaar had arrived with the Dovahkiin contingent but had not specified whether that was at the Stargate or on the Valhalla itself. There was no way of knowing how quickly she would arrive, and just waiting for the coming confrontation … all their meetings seemed to turn that way, even if only passive-aggressively … was almost as bad as the confrontation itself would be. Sujanha resisted the urge to fidget like a youngling, drum her claws on the arm of her chair impatiently, or look at the clock every few moments.

None of that will help make time move faster.

I just want this to be over.

Eventually, Zulaar swept in, barely giving Asik time to announce her. (As soon as he had, he slipped out, flashing a Cesenor hand-sign behind Zulaar's back that meant something related to strength or endurance. The exact nuance escaped Sujanha, but she understood the sentiment.) Sujanha's office on the Valhalla was large enough to meet with several subordinates simultaneously, but Zulaar's presence seemed to fill up the entire room. Raised at the Dovahkiin court all her life as the second in line to the throne, she had, naturally, a commanding presence that had taken Sujanha, raised at a foreign court and born much lower down the line of succession, years of work to cultivate. Zulaar was classically beautiful for one of her people, with scales a striking shade of blue-green, horns that curled gracefully back from her head, and large wings that made her an excellent flier.

The High Princess stopped just over half-way from the door to Sujanha's desk, just slightly farther than was strictly proper before rendering a greeting. The following bow was also too shallow, more proper for a greeting of respect between two friends or even distant kin, reminiscent of the relationship that the two had once ahead. She had also, Sujanha noted with an internal flinch, reversed her hands, so that her right hand was gripping her left wrist, instead of the traditional form.[2] Even if that relationship had not been torn apart forty-five years earlier, the bow would have still been too shallow. Here they were not equals. This was an official visit. Zulaar had no military title, and Sujanha's status as an Imperial Princess and third in her line to the throne of the Furling Empire outranked Zulaar's status as High Princess of the Dovahkiin and second in line to her own throne.

"Sujanha-Meshik," was Zulaar's greeting, another veiled insult. "Datong," the closest Dovahkiin word to her title of Supreme Commander, would have been more appropriate, where "Meshik" still presumed on a relationship that Zulaar would have vehemently denied the continuing existence of, if pressed.

The Great Queen's only daughter had learned the art of maneuvering at court at her mother's side, and the proper use of courtesies for all ranks and positions had been imprinted in her mind from a young age. More than a thousand years had passed since her birth, and those years had only perfected her skill. The last forty-five years had given her many opportunities in passive-aggressively turning each and every social courtesy into an insult with the use of a wrong honorific or a too-shallow bow. For all that Sujanha and Zulaar were grudging allies for the sake of the Empire and the War of Deliverance, the High Princess would never let Sujanha forget that, personally, Zulaar's hatred of her burned fiercer than the fires of Drehond.

It was said that no one could hold a grudge like one of the Dovahkiin.

Zulaar's anger on her brother, the Great Prince Zinjotnax's behalf, was not totally unwarranted.

In trying to do right, I went astray.

I hurt many that I love.

"High Princess," Sujanha replied coolly, "Please sit."

And let us get this over with.


Daniel left the Supreme Commander's office, stepping back into the seemingly featureless corridor, in a state of utter confusion. "I thought the Dovahkiin were our allies," he hissed to Ruarc. Sujanha's reaction to the news of the arrival of the High Princess was peculiar, somewhere between horror and resignation.

Rather shaken up.

Ragnar led them left out of the office and down the long corridor. He and his brother exchanged looks as they walked, communicating silently. They seemed to be able to hold conversations just with his looks, Daniel had noted over the months, given that the Furlings were not telepathic … unlike a couple of races they were allied with.

Telepathy … like in the comics.

It still kind of blew his mind.

"It's complicated," Ruarc finally replied. "A private matter, mainly, and not one that we should attempt to explain."

Oh.

"I didn't mean to pry."

Ruarc shook his head, motioning for them to stop as they came to a set of lifts that had been hidden from sight farther up the hall. "Do not concern yourself. You would have had no reason to know." He paused, glanced at his brother again, "I will remain here until the High Princess leaves." We're still in sight of Sujanha's office. I can't see the door, but he can see anyone leaving or entering on foot. "Daniel, you should start learning the ship."

That I should.

He had gotten lost several times already that day, exploring the Valhalla after an Iprysh guard had had him beamed up from the planet's surface after he had gated in from Uslisgas. The featureless corridors seemed endless and identical. He had picked turns at random several times while trying to find his way to Sujanha's office before he had run into another crewmember who had given him directions.

"I'll go with you," Ragnar rumbled. Make sure I don't get lost? Too lost? "These ships take a bit of getting used to, but the guide-signs will help."

The what-now?

Daniel stared at him blankly. "The what?"

Ragnar gave a rumbling laugh, said goodbye to his brother, and then motioned Daniel to follow. They took the lift up several decks—so that they could go to the bridge, Ragnar explained—and encountered yet more slate-grey corridors. This is more confusing than the SGC! When they came to an intersection, Ragnar pointed out a particular set of marks—a mix of alphabetic characters, numbers, and symbols—on the wall that Daniel had overlooked during his wanderings earlier.

That's Furling?

It was … sort of, and once Ragnar explained the system, it made much more sense. At each intersection was a code that indicated the deck one was on and one's location within the ship. There were more marks on every door within a corridor that further specified one's location as well as the use of the space.

Like on a Navy ship, I think.

"So what deck were we on?" Asked Daniel once he had absorbed the lecture.

"10," Ragnar replied.

"10 of?"

"It depends," Ragnar noted, pulling up a diagram of the ship on his gauntlet. "We are still near the center of the ship above the main hangar." He pointed out a massive cavern on the underbelly of the ship. "There are fewer decks above the hanger, and more along the periphery."

Ah.

Daniel blinked, shoved his glasses back up his nose. "What deck are we on now?"

"Deck 3. The bridge is toward the front of the ship," Ragnar replied, gesturing with one hand over his shoulder.

The bridge of the Valhalla was something almost out of Star Trek or Star Wars and put the peltak of a Goa'uld Hat'tak like Daniel had been on to shame. Instead of the impractical gaudiness of a Goa'uld warship, the bridge like much of Furling design was streamlined and intensely practical. The bridge was a massive rectangle … uh, mostly, well, the back-half, while the front of the room was a large semi-circle. Across the walls of the semicircle was projected a continuous row of holograms that displayed a stunning view of space … above Ocelum … as well as the massive number of ships near the planet.

I hadn't realized we were in orbit.

Or are we? Are they just showing orbit through sensors or something?

Near the front of the room, a couple of strides back from the holograms, were two large consoles, L-shaped, probably for a navigator and a weapon's office. If Goa'uld design is anything to guess by. They did steal it from the Furlings. A third chair, elevated up two small steps, stood between the two consoles, probably for Sujanha or whichever officer was currently in charge. Several displays covered the walls at the back of the room, and four large tables/consoles/display boards … or something … stood perpendicular to the long-side of the rectangle.

That far table … that looks like the surface of Ocelum by the Stargate.

Is that like a moving sand-table or something?

Only two people were present on the bridge as Daniel and Ragnar entered. One—a human man—was working at one of the displays at the back of the room. It was a map of something. (Of what exactly, Daniel had no clue.) The other, an Iprysh with streamlined silver armor with darker highlights, was sitting at the console on the left hand of the command chair.

The man looked up, blinking twice as if tearing his mind away from whatever he had been working, before his gaze focused on the newcomers. His gaze flicked over Daniel without comprehension before focusing on Ragnar. "Ragnar"—the man spoke unaccented Furling—"Do you need something?"

"No," Ragnar replied. "This is Daniel Jackson, the Commander's latest aid. I have been helping him get accustomed to the ship."

A wide smile broke across the man's face. "Without getting lost." he said with a laugh before turning to Daniel. "I lost my way many times during my first few months here, even with the guide-posts for help."

Glad I'm not the only one.

The other man continued. "I am Mekoxe of the Getae. I am the communications officer." He made a gesture with the back of his hand toward the front of the room. Cultural thing? "That is Sat'a Chakrechi, the weapons officer. He's running a diagnostic on the weapons system, so we shouldn't bother him."

(It was always listening to other people speak Furling. Mekoxe spoke fluent, unaccented Furling, but his speech patterns were different from the Furling Sujanha or her bodyguards spoke … or even me now … since how you spoke a language was highly influenced by your teachers … cough, cough, Jack, cough, cough. Mekoxe was still direct but much less formal.)

"I don't need anything," Daniel hastened to reply. "As Ragnar said, I'm just trying to get familiar with the ship. It's … big."

"Quite." Mekoxe replied dryly, an amused twist to his lips. "All Furling ships are mainly laid out on the same design, factoring in the presence or size of the main hangar. Once you are comfortable here, you should be able to find your way in the others with relative ease."

"Thank you."

"No Rusa?" Ragnar asked a moment later after glancing around the Bridge again. His speech was shifting into a less-formal register. Have they worked together before? The Getae are human, though longer-lived than us. Mekoxe would be rather old to have seen service near the end of the Great War … I'd think?

Mekoxe's attention had slipped back to his consoles—and one particular holographic screen that looked vaguely like a galactic map with weird blinking dots—in the momentary gap between Daniel's reply and Ragnar's question, but at the question his head snapped back up. "Hmm? Oh, yes, she's on board. She went down deck an … hour ago maybe … muttering something about her precious star charts." His words were slightly snarky, but his tone was fond.

I'm guessing she's the navigator then?

Ragnar scowled—or rather his eyes went dark and his ears flicked back momentarily, which for a Furling was close enough to the same thing. "Problem?"

Mekoxe shrugged, "If there is, it wouldn't be that serious, I think, from her tone. If it is serious, though, she'll make sure the Commander learns of it."


By the time Zulaar finally left and the door slid shut behind her, the meeting having been brought to a successful through heated conclusion, Sujanha felt absolutely wrung-out and exhausted. Her body ached from the stress, and a headache was blooming between her eyes, a pain which felt like a hammer being pounded against her skull. Zulaar's tongue had been as fiery and as pointed as ever. Their last meeting had been some years before, though Sujanha had had the misfortunes to have dealings with several other Dovahkiin court officials in the meantime.

Time has done nothing to soften their feelings toward me.

I wish …

Sujanha wished many things. That the lists of dead from the Great War were shorter. That her brother-son had lived. That her health was not broken. That she had been given a chance to explain. That things had been different that day on Drehond. That she hadn't lost … them all.

What's done is done.

Alone, in the privacy of her own office, Sujanha allowed her rigid posture to relax and let her head sink down. Retracting her claws, she massaged her forehead with short, blunt fingers. The ache in her head was only matched by the ache in her chest. Every meeting with Zulaar only drove the knife in further, reminding her of all she had lost.

"Are you alright, Commander?" A voice shattered the stillness of the room.

Sujanha started upright, her muscles screaming at the sudden jerky movement, and the throbbing in her head increased with a lurch. Ruarc was standing in the doorway, a polite distance away, concern clear in his eyes.

I didn't call them back yet, did I?

No. Her memory was still sound.

"What are you doing back?" Sujanha asked, deflecting the question with her own question.

Ruarc stared at her for a moment. "Making sure you survived your meeting," he answered bluntly and rather impoliticly. "From the way the High Princess stormed out, I'm presuming it didn't go well?"

Sujanha gave a helpless shrug, a use of human body-language that she rarely mimicked. "We accomplished what little needed to be accomplished. Any bad temper was due to our long-fraught relationship."

A scowl took its place firmly on Ruarc's face. He had been within hearing range during more than one past meeting between the two and had strong feelings about the fraught and somewhat toxic relationship between Sujanha and Zulaar. As long as he kept those opinions to himself in public, Sujanha did not care what he thought about the High Princess. Tensions had increased for some years between the two courts, following her expulsion from Drehond. If tension increased again, Sujanha was intent on the fault not lying with any of her staff in their fervent defense of her.

"So how many insults did the High Princess," Ruarc almost choked on the title of respect, "work into her report this time?"

"I learned years ago not to keep count," Sujanha replied rather tartly.

Ruarc scowled harder, taking the offered seat that Sujanha waved him towards. "Your courtesy dance with the Crown Prince gives me a headache, but you clearly outrank Zulaar in these circumstances. Why do you allow this treatment to continue?"

(Sujanha and her cousin, the current Crown Prince, had a friendly relationship, though they were not close. That relationship was complicated by the fact that she outranked him in some contexts, military primarily or military-related, while he outranked her politically as Crown Prince. If you factor in that I sit on the High Council … it only gets more complicated. Another reason Sujanha disliked politics. It complicated everything … even family relationships.)

Why did she? That was a good question.

Sometimes Sujanha wasn't really sure. Heading things off at the pass with Zulaar had never been that effective, and trying to set the tone with her own actions had never worked well either. Zulaar's actions were insulting on multiple levels to Sujanha, both as the elder in age and the higher in rank in the contexts we are in. The High Princess usually mitigated her treatment in more public settings, but having such meetings in more public settings was not always possible and potentially risky, depending on the topic at hand.

So why had Sujanha not put a stop to Zulaar's insults?

Perhaps it was from her lingering sense of guilt over the events and her own choices that in the space of a single day had broken her ties to the Dovahkiin royal family and shattered her close relationship with Zinjotnax.

Perhaps it was from an irrational fear that verbally slapping the other woman down would yet worsen matters still further.

Perhaps it was because she felt that she deserved Zulaar's anger.

Sujanha really wasn't sure after all this time.

"It does not matter now." Sujanha deflected. "Matters are what they are."

Ruarc gave a low growl, the closest he usually got to calling her on what he thought was nonsense, while still trying to be cognizant of the vast difference in rank between them. "It does matter, Commander. It matters to all of us who have to see you treated like this. Whatever severed your relationship with the Dovahkiin does not matter to us. She is being purposefully cruel, and it's wrong."

"Her anger is not unreasonable," Sujanha noted wearily.

"You're you," Ruarc half-shouted. He shook himself bodily and then continued, voice lower but only slightly calmer, "Whatever happened has not been bandied about, and I have no desire to hear private details, but I know you, Commander. We all know you. It cannot be as bad as you're implying, and nothing could be worthy of her … vitriol." He spat the last word with vehement disgust.

As usual, his defense was extremely touching.

Sujanha was silent for a long minute, considering how to reply. Cut off the conversation and force a return to work, even if the throbbing in her head made the idea of working unpleasant? Or explain in brief, bringing to light what had somehow remained unspoken on Uslisgas for years. "I broke a contract … a written contract. Broken, not dissolved."

Ruarc cringed. "Well, that …," he verbally floundered for a few moments, "explains a few things."

Breaking contracts was a major cultural taboo among the Dovahkiin. It was just not done, not with verbal contracts where you could argue semantics, and especially not with written contacts where the Dovahkiin strictly laid out even the smallest of details. Anyone with sense did not break contrast unless you're desperateor not thinking straight. Breaking a contract was almost the most grievous insult that could be rendered against a Dovahkiin … having the best of motives doesn't make a difference… and called the character of the breaker into question.

Sujanha gave a short rumbling laugh that if she had been in private … if I were in private, this conversation would not be happening … might have turned into a sob.

"A marriage contract?" Her bodyguard asked cautiously.

Sujanha made a wordless noise of assent. That she and Zinjotnax, who had fought bravely and been grievously wounded during the Great War, had once been quite close, was no secret. It was just how close they had been … as well as the contract between them … that had been unknown to most, if not all, outside the two courts.

"I'm assuming that you had good reasons for breaking it, not dissolving it?" Ruarc continued, still cautiously.

I'm unlikely to live to see 1500 years … and that was if I retired.

Having children would kill me.

Which negates most of the purpose of dynastic marriages.

Sujanha made another wordless noise of assent. Having grown up on Drehond, she knew what a taboo breaking a contract was, but given the circumstances, she had still judged in the moment that her decision was the wisest and most honorable course of action. Well, granted, breaking the contract had not been the goal of her actions that day. Dissolving it had been, but the events that day had not gone according to plan.

Not that I was thinking that straight that day.

If I had controlled myself and waited …

That had been easier to see in hindsight. But who would have been thinking rationally in her circumstances that day? Her healers had told her that her convalescence had given her back all the strength that she was likely to get, that she was going to die young. Very young. Already in pain, that news had left Sujanha reeling and frightened and feeling terribly alone. I would probably still make the same decision. Just go about it very differently.

"And they didn't take that into account?"

"The discussion never got that far," Sujanha admitted.

An inopportune question had brought the matter to light at the midday meal, instead of, as she had been planning, a private meeting with Zin and the Great Queen. Sujanha had been unwilling to lie. Verbal … and physical … chaos had ensued. There had been no chance for explanations, and Sujanha had not the strength, physically or mentally, to shout to make herself heard that day. She would never forget the look in Zin's eyes that day as she had declared her intention to end the contract between them: stunned disbelief mixed with heartbreaking betrayal and agonizing pain, like she had ripped away his scales with her claws and stabbed him in the belly.

It made her stomach churn just remembering.

The conversation had spiraled out of control so quickly. She had betrayed him, but she had never expected that after all those hundreds of years together, she would never be given the chance to explain. Zin knew her. The Great Queen knew her. I was raised in her court! She was more of a mother to me than my own! It still hurt deeply. Though she still held fast to her ultimate decision, it burned that they seemed to think so little of her that they never asked why.

"Commander …" Words failed Ruarc for a moment. "I … He doesn't even know that you're …"

Dying?

"That my health problems are terminal?" Sujanha finished for him softly. "No."

"But if he knew …" Ruarc protested. "Maybe things could be made right."

Sujanha shook her head. "Your concern for me is greatly appreciated more than you know. As far as the Great Queen was concerned, however, I was raised among them, and I knew better than to act in such a matter. As far as Zinjotnax is concerned, I betrayed him. You weren't there that day." She paused, swallowed hard. "What's done is done. Some things cannot be made right."

Not in this life.

I made my choices.

I have to live with them, too.

The look in Ruarc's eyes was almost heartbreakingly sympathetic. "Commander … I …" he paused, floundered verbally again, "I'm sorry."

"Thank you." Sujanha took a deep breath. "None of this should pass your lips outside of this room, not even to your brother."

Ruarc bowed his head. "As you command."

"If you would, send word to the others to return. There is still work to be done."

As much as I wish this day could be over.

Ruarc rose, "As you command." He executed a deep bow, deeper than he had ever gone before, and then withdrew.


The rest of the week passed incredibly slowly and yet incredibly quickly at the same time, or so it seemed to Daniel. After seeing the sheer scope of preparations involved for getting the Fleet and Army ready to leave for the Milky-Way, it brought home how vital supply chains were to keeping a military moving—who was it who said 'an army marches on its stomach'?[3]—and gave him new appreciation for all the people who had worked behind the scenes at the SGC.

It was impossible to carry some supplies—food, equipment, weapons, and who knew what else—through the Stargate at all or in a timely manner. It would be even less possible for all the troops to go through the Stargate to the Milky-Way in a timely manner, not with the number of troops the Furlings and their allies are sending. Thus, it fell on the Fleet's fleet of troop carriers and transport ships to get all of those supplies and people from one galaxy to the other, which also meant housing and feeding all those hundreds of thousands of troops meanwhile.

Though I have no idea exactly how fast Furling hyperdrives are.

Though … the more important question might be how fast the Ipyrsh hyperdrives are.

Wouldn't the Commander want to keep the ships together?

One more thing for her to keep track of.

The hours Sujanha kept got longer as the week progressed, and at some moments, Daniel thought with more than a little concern that she was surviving mostly on spiced tea and sheer stubbornness. Jaax was still on Procater with the family emergency that had called him away but was expected back before Departure Day. Daniel and Asik were working overtime with him absent to ferry messages, check on arriving shipments, take notes in meetings, and a laundry list of other duties. With hundreds of warships and hundreds of thousands of troops from multiple militaries, there was just a simply staggering amount of work to do and things to coordinate.

Finally, the first of Ea dawned.

Departure Day had come, at last.

The days of the Goa'uld are numbered.

Dawn came early. With all the final checks to be done, no one had gotten more than a few hours of sleep. Daniel knew Sujanha must have been exhausted and in pain when she emerged from her quarters adjacent to her office, but she was hiding it reasonably well. He certainly was tired, exhausted really, and was wishing fervently for multiple large mugs of coffee, though he would have to content himself with copious amounts of Furling spiced tea, instead.

The six of them—Sujanha, Daniel, her bodyguards, and other two aids—ate a quick breakfast together before Asik left Ocelum for Uslisgas. With her fleet about to be spread across three far-flung galaxies, Sujanha needed one aid to remain in Asteria at all times to deal with what fleet business arose there and to make sure necessary information about what was going on in Asteria and Ida was passed on to Sujanha or others.

After breakfast, Daniel beamed up to the bridge with Sujanha and Ragnar and Ruarc where the Commander was due to address the fleet before departure. Commander Anarr would be doing the same for his troops and the allied contingents. The bridge was much busier that morning than it had been several days before when Ragnar had helped him get oriented to the ship. All the bridge crew seemed in place, and there were several extra people that Daniel did not recognize.

Sujanha took her seat, and silence fell across the bridge as her hologram was transmitted out across the fleet. "Seventy-eight years ago, I stood before you to announce the end of the war against our Great Enemy. After over 2800 years of war in which countless lives were lost and our peoples were brought to their knees, we for a brief period had peace. Now, we are ready to begin another war that is not in our galaxy, not in our empire, and against a race that does not directly threaten our people, our existence, or our livelihood."

"We have asked much of you before, and now we ask the same of you again. The Goa'uld are a scourge upon the universe. They stole from us, corrupting our technology into weapons of terror, of destruction, and of subjugation. Using their ill-gotten gains, they have enslaved countless planets, and they ruthlessly kill all those who oppose them. We are the unintended cause of their rise to power. It is our duty to ensure their fall."

Sujanha ceased speaking, her brief address complete. She turned to the navigator at her side. "Let us depart."

Hyperspace windows began to open, and one by one, ships disappeared.

Months of preparation and planning had all led to this moment.

Within a day, the Furling Fleet along with the countless troops would reach the Milky-Way and begin deploying for their first attacks.

The war had begun.

The reign of the System Lords, though they did not know it yet, was fast coming to its end.


[1] Procater is the homeworld of the Etrairs, Jaax's race. It is known for its warm, jungle-like environment and the violent storms that can pop up with little warning. As a result, its flora and fauna are quite hardy and resilient. The Etrairs generally live in massive and advanced underground cities like the Dovahkiin on Drehond.

[2] This is considered by the Dovahkiin to be quite an insult, similar to saluting with one's left hand on earth.

[3] A/N: This is actually debated according to Oxford Reference. It may originally have been Napoleon or Frederick the Great.