35th of Ihom, 6546 A.S.
(October 24, 1999)
Uslisgas, Asteria
Ever since the end of the Great War and before the beginning of the Furling-Goa'uld War, Sujanha's life had followed a set pattern, day after day, week after week, month after month, year after year. Except on rare days when she was too ill to work, she always rose early, ate quickly, stayed at work until late in the day, went home (or slept in her office … to the consternation of her aids, bodyguards, and personal healer) for a too short a period, and then started the cycle again the next day. Her life was regular and dominated by an almost unvarying routine. The order and set pattern gave her some control over a life overshadowed by the unpredictability of a lifetime of war and centuries of chronic, severe illness. Getting through one day had a time was often the goal. Every moment of ill-health reminded Sujanha that she should have died four-hundred-and-ninety-eight years ago, that she had lived when her brother-son had died. (It should have been the other way around.)
Every moment was a reminder, but regrets were not a thing Sujanha had time to dwell on. There was too much work to be done, always too much to be done, first in the wake of the Great War with all the necessary rebuilding, and then in this new war against the Goa'uld. There was work to be done so that the most people could return home. There was no time for self, no time for weakness or self-pity, no time for lingering on the past. The past was the past. What had happened had happened. There was nothing that could be done to change things. There was almost certainly another reality where her brother-son had survived, another reality where things with the Dovahkiin had ended differently (or not ended at all, if the fates were kind), but here what was, was. Life had to move on, whether one liked it or not. Too many families had lost loved-ones, hers not alone. What was, was.
Sujanha's life had changed for the better in the almost year-and-a-half since Daniel Jackson, the exiled Midgardian from Avalon, had entered her life. He had shaken up the repetitive structure of her days with his kindness, inquisitiveness, and interest in everything as well as with his ability to sometimes make her work less or, as Ragnar, Ruarc, and Kaja claimed, take better care of herself. Daniel reminded her of Odin, her long-dead brother-son, in many ways, and she had grown quite fond of him, though for his own sake, not as a replacement for her nephew. In all ways but legally, she saw him as the son she would never have.
Daniel was grown by the standards of his people—by the standards of every human race she knew—but he always seemed so young to her in his outlook on life and enthusiasm for learning, though the war was forcing a burden of its own onto his shoulder. Sujanha often struggled with the weight of so much responsibility and so many duties resting on her aching shoulders, and his presence in her life made for a welcome respite. His endless questions and curiosity about Asteria were cheering, amusing, and distracting, in turn. She had also greatly enjoyed hearing his stories of Abydos and Midgard and liked even his quiet, stalwart presence.
Daniel had so easily carved out his own place at her side, and his presence had become so much of a fixture in her life that, like when he had been so sick months before, it seemed too quiet as Sujanha rode the lift up to her office one morning. About a week had passed since Sujanha's return to Uslisgas with her retinue in the wake of the final defeat of the combined Goa'uld coalition of Cronus, Nirrti, and Selket.
Her responsibilities to Asteria, to the Empire, to their allies in Ida did not end because of the war currently raging in Avalon. High Commander Bjorn was a very capable adjutant, but there was still work that only Sujanha could do, and there was an upcoming High Council meeting to endure. Some matters, some meetings could not as easily be dealt with long-distance, and while she had attended council meetings before that way, doing so too often would only invite opposition.
Asik rose from his desk and greeted her as Sujanha entered her office. "I was growing concerned, my lady," he said. "You usually arrive some hours earlier."
It is that late?
Sujanha flicked her gaze up to the timepiece that hung on the walk behind Asik's desk. Jaax's desk was empty at the moment; like Daniel, he was taking a chance to go off-world to check on his family. Half-past the 10th hour. I hadn't realized. She usually rose at half-past the 6th hour and was at work within forty-five minutes to an hour unless she was waiting for Daniel. "I was waylaid several times on my journey here, or I would have arrived as normal."
A slight frown crossed Asik's face at her choice of words. "No problems, I hope?" He asked, following her into her inner office, his steps light and almost noiseless in his soft shoes.
"No, the High King had need of me first. I received his summons as soon as I arose. He had questions regarding recent campaigns in Avalon. On my return from the palace, I met my brother, who has also returned for tomorrow's High Council meeting, and he had questions for me, as well. Thus, the late hour." Sujanha summarized her morning in brief words. She took her seat with a sigh and a groan and flicked open the holographic screens that were waiting for her attention.
"Will Dr. Jackson be joining us today?" asked Asik, moving to pour a cup of spiced tea from a full pot that he must have brought up earlier, anticipating her arrival, which was usually on a clockwork like schedule.
"After the midday meal," Sujanha replied. "He went to Ardea to visit Sha're." She paused, swiped through a few more screens. Reports, reports, requisition lists, more reports, updated casualty lists. (She almost flinched at seeing the last one waiting for her review. It was the cost of power to know better than many the life-and-death price of her choices.) "Are there any messages for me since I left last night?"
"Yes, several." Asik stepped out into the outer office. There was a sound of objects being shifted, and a moment later, he returned, tablet in hand. "Do you wish to hear them in chronological order or in order of relative importance?" (He had an entire system for prioritizing messages if they did not come with some tag of their own.)
"Is anything critical?" Sujanha almost desperately hoped not. Though she had retired to bed earlier the previous night than she usually did, she still felt exhausted, and the unexpected meetings that morning had not helped. About a week had passed since her temporary return from Avalon, but the strain of the campaign had not yet relented. (Her body was going to pay the price if she did not take care.)
Duty before self, she reminded herself mentally, despite a nagging voice in her head that sounded too much like Ruarc, saying that she would be no help to the fleet if she collapsed again, which to be fair had not happened since the end of the Great War. The day after going to Gaia did not count. There had been no collapsing … just a great difficulty in getting out of bed … for hours.
"No," Asik replied with a shake of his head.
"Chronologically then," Sujanha replied, leaning her head against the back of her chair and letting her eyes slip closed for a moment. This was going to be one of those days, she felt, when, as illogical as it was, the hours between morning and night seemed twice as long as they normally did.
"Last night, after you departed for home, an intelligence report arrived from Supreme Commander Thor. It was not marked critical, so I deemed it could wait until the morning."
"I see it," Sujanha said, flicking open the report as Asik sent it over. "You acted correctly."
Asik continued. "A personal message from Thor arrived in the same data burst, as well as a message from the Crown Prince, stating that he would be on Uslisgas in five days from yesterday to meet with his father, the High King, and hoped to speak with you on the same trip."
On what, I wonder!?
It was not often that Sujanha and the Crown Prince had many interactions on a personal level, and if this were a question of military matters, she would have thought he would have just appeared at Headquarters during her audience hours and spoken with her directly.
Ah, who knows? I'll know in a few days.
And a personal message from Thor? Interesting.
Adair, the Crown Prince of the Furlings, was around the same age as Anarr and Sujanha, just slightly older than them both, which was why he was Crown Prince and not Anarr. During the Great War, he had been sent to serve in the Asgard Fleet, instead of the Furling Fleet, to lessen the chances that all the heirs to the throne could perish during the war. Sujanha was not sure that she had ever interacted enough with her only living cousin to say that she liked him, but she certainly did not dislike him. Given how few family members were left to her, she wished to keep on good terms with them all, a hope that had failed miserably in regards to her … broken … relationship with her brother, but that was another matter. Their respective military ranks, compared to their positions at the Imperial Court, made their relationship, made interacting often complicated and awkward. Their last encounter in the Milky-Way—and my display of temper—caused by faulty intelligence, granted, had not helped matters either.
"Send an acknowledgement to Thor with thanks for the intelligence. Have word sent to the Crown Prince that, if I am still in Asteria when he returns, I will gladly speak with him," replied Sujanha. "Is there anything else?"
If there is nothing else, I can go read this news on the Replicating Ones and see what personal news Thor has sent. While Sujanha was not sure whether she could or would count Thor as a friend, the two commanders had long been on good terms.
And then I can go on to all my other reports. Supervising wars in two galaxies and galactic security in a third meant many reports, many, many, many reports and updates and lists and requisition forms. And more reports. Paperwork was the bane of a commander's existence in most any, if not every, military.
"Yes, actually," Asik replied, his gaze returning to his tablet. "The last message came in just an hour ago from the Tok'ra on Vorash. They have requested your presence there for an unspecified reason. The matter is, they say, important but not critical."
Important but not critical? How very vague and unhelpful.
And why do they need me to come to Vorash?
"An unusual request!" mused Sujanha. A cramp raced up her right arm, and she tried to massage it away with her other paw, gritting her teeth to hold back a low noise of pain. "Intelligence reports have always been brought to me so far. This is quite strange."
"Do you wish to go or delegate?" Asik asked, eyes flicking between her and his tablet.
Delegating, one of the most valuable skills a commander can learn.
"Did they ask for me specifically? Or just a commander within the High Command?"
There was a slight pause. "You, Commander."
Odd.
"And you're sure the report came from the Tok'ra?"
Asik frowned slightly at the question but nodded immediately. "All security procedures were in place, and there was nothing of concern in the transmission."
And none of our early warning sensors near Vorash have gone off, or I would have been notified immediately.
Something unusual must have happened for the Tok'ra to need me there.
Sujanha considered the matter for a long minute and finally said, "I will go. My work can wait for a few hours with little consequence." She rose from her chair carefully, leaning her weight heavily on her arms, her paws clamped around the sturdily built arms of her chair. Only when she felt her right knee straighten and actually hold did she carefully release her grip. Given her bone-deep exhaustion and the usual aches and pains, Sujanha did not wish to be careless and end up on the floor if her leg gave out.
Asik bowed deeply and began to withdraw. "Of course. I will send for your guards and then send the necessary replies."
"No need." A deeper voice broke into the conversation, and Ruarc appeared in the doorway of her office, with his brother a silent shadow at his shoulder. "We are here. What do you need, Commander?"
Asik bowed and withdrew, and Sujanha's penetrating black gaze focused on her two bodyguards. They had been by her side for almost two-hundred-and-fifty years since before the end of the Great War. Their loyalty was eternal and unquestionable, but they were not just silent sentinels. They were both experienced soldiers and were as ready with advice or wisdom or critiques as they were with defensive force. "A message came from the Tok'ra," she replied. "They wish for me to come to Vorash on an important, though not critical, matter."
Whatever that means, exactly!
Ruarc's ears flattened against his skull, a sign of his unease. "Unusual. You're going?" In private, the two guards were free, at Sujanha's insistence, to speak freely and less formally.
Ragnar growled, a low rumble in his chest. Among the Furlings, such a request verged on insulting. In matters of business or military matters, those of lesser rank went to those of higher rank, not vice versa.
"Yes." Sujanha was not one to mince words. The Tok'ra did not know their ways, and in war … sometimes customs had to be loosened to account for reality.
Sujanha was not one to waste time either, not when there was work to be done. (Granted, there was always work of some sort to be done, but lollygagging—a very interesting English word Daniel had taught her—did no one any good.) Before leaving Headquarters, she left messages for Daniel and Jaax with Asik, who also took word of her departure upstairs to Elder Brother. It took only minutes to beam across to the Hall of the Stargate and make their way through the security measures to reach the Stargate itself.
Sujanha had sent a message across ahead of her arrival, and as they entered the main hall, the statues of the heroes of the past sending long shadows across the stone floor, the Stargate was already connected. With Ruarc and Ragnar at step ahead, Sujanha took a deep breath and then stepped into the Stargate on Uslisgas and, one pace later, out onto the sands of Vorash.
No smoke.
No fires.
No signs of conflict or of ships.
The Stargate closed behind them, and for a few moments, the three Furlings stood alone upon the sands. Prickling instincts made Sujanha suspect that there were Tok'ra guards, watching the Stargate, nearby, but they were well hidden among the sand dunes, and she could neither hear, see, or smell anyone.
Then guards started to appear straight out of the sand dunes, or so it seemed, one by one. There were four humans, three men and one woman. One man, whose host seemed very young, approached the group.
All Zukish seem young to me. Their lives pass so quickly.
And yet, Daniel might outlive me. That was the cost of her path in life.
The Tok'ra was tall with short brown hair, bushy eyebrows, and a friendly, open expression. He bowed to Sujanha, saluting her in the Furling fashion, a gesture which impressed the Supreme Commander. When he spoke, it was the host in control. "Thank you for coming, Supreme Commander. If you would follow me, please, I will show you to the tunnels."
It would be the first time Sujanha had ever set foot in a Tok'ra base. She had heard of their tunnels, which they grew from crystals—a technology that they had shared to the rapturous delight of engineers and geologists across Asteria—from scouts and those of her people who had joined the Tok'ra. Sujanha was interested to finally see these constructions for herself.
Growing crystal tunnels … a very ingenious solution to a difficult problem.
Sujanha acknowledged the young host's words with a nod, and the three Furlings followed him across the sands, deeper into the sand dunes that stretched away from the Stargate as far as the eye could see. It was a desert world, hot and dry, with barely a living plant to be seen all around.
Like Ushuotis … a good place to hide.
Walking across sand was, surprisingly, more difficult than Sujanha would have expected. (She always beamed on and off base on Ushuotis or from the Stargate to her flagship.) Her wide paws distributed her weight more widely across the sands, making her sink less, but she could still feel the hot sands, almost sucking at her paws, weighing her done. By the time their guide started to slow as they reached the place where the rings must have been located, Sujanha almost felt a touch breathless. It was enough that Ruarc unobtrusively slowed his pace to draw alongside her, shooting her a concerned glance. She shook her head in a wordless response to his wordless question.
I'm alright.
Don't draw attention.
Within Asteria and the peoples of the Empire, Sujanha's condition was an open-secret. Anyone who had lived through the latter centuries of the Great War, was related to someone who had, had studied the war, or simply listened to what was spoken abroad, knew that she had been poisoned, knew that her health was not strong. Outside of Asteria, her condition was kept a closely guarded secret. Weakness made her a target. Even the most steadfast soldiers could break under torture. Having word reach unfriendly ears could be very dangerous.
The four gathered around in a circle, Ragnar and Ruarc flanking Sujanha. The rings appeared with a noise and flash of light, and moments later, they stood in the cool, dimly lit interior of the Tok'ra tunnels. Another Tok'ra—a man, whose robes were not the utilitarian ones of operatives and whose square face bore an expression that fell somewhere between severe and haughty—was waiting at the edge of the ring room. His greeting was brief and contained no details about why exactly Sujanha had been asked to come. "I am High Councilor Delek," he said. "Thank you for coming."
Sujanha nodded, inclining her head. "The alliance between our peoples is highly valued, High Councilor. I was surprised that whatever intelligence you have to share required my coming and was not sent to me in Asteria." Her reply was a subtle prompt for an explanation with an undertone of warning not to waste her time.
"The usual messengers are all off-world," replied Delek. He looked at their escort, saying somewhat brusquely, "You are dismissed, Aldwin."
Send one who has not come before?
Send one of my people?
Do not make it more complicated than it is.
Aldwin nodded and began to withdraw, but Sujanha reached out and brushed a paw across his sleeve, murmuring a quiet word of thanks.
"If you would come with me, Commander," Delek prompted almost before she could finish speaking to Aldwin. Sujanha fought back the urge to correct him, Supreme Commander. Perhaps he was just usually blunt of speech or stressed and having a bad day, but there was something about the Tok'ra High Councilor that Sujanha did not like. His brusque dismissal of Aldwin rankled her. Sujanha made a point of always trying to be kind and polite to her subordinates.
They have loyally followed us into a new war.
We must do right by them, replay that loyalty and always be worthy of it.
Delek led Sujanha and her bodyguards down tunnel after tunnel, which followed one after another in a long and twisted path that led gradually further underground. After some minutes of walking, Sujanha began to grow exasperated. The long walk made her bad leg ache fiercely; she was already tired, had been before they had come to Vorash; and still no one had said why she had been asked to come in the first place. As much as she valued the alliance between her people and the Tok'ra—their intelligence has been invaluable—Sujanha did not appreciate being dragged around, proverbially, like an underling or simple messenger.
"Enough!" Sujanha finally growled when Delek led them into yet another empty tunnel with no sign of stopping. "I tire of this. Why have you brought me here?"
Delek paused and turned back, face inscrutable. "Through our subspace network, we have recently received new information from our operatives regarding the positions and distribution of a number of Goa'uld motherships and troop transports. Our analysts deemed it vital for you to see the information quickly. We thought it best for you to come, instead of sending a less-experienced messenger with whom you are less familiar to convey more complex intelligence."
Reasonable.
"Very well," replied Sujanha after a very long pause. "Let us continue."
But you could not have said any of this before?
The path Delek had led them on was enough to confuse a scout, tunnel after descending tunnel until they had reached a level well below the sand dunes on the surface. The route had been so twisty that Sujanha was struggling to keep the entire path back to the ring room with all the twists and turns fixed in her mind.
An endless series of lefts, rights, and straights and ups and down.
As the group slowed, hopefully approaching their final destination at last, Sujanha glanced back over her shoulder at Ruarc. He was just behind her and off her right shoulder, with Ragnar just behind Delek in front of them both. Seeing the glance and interpreting the look correctly, Ruarc increased his stride until he was walking beside her, matching pace, and leaned in so that their heads were close.
"Do you remember the route?" Sujanha asked softly in Furling. It was not that she did not trust the Tok'ra, but even the Tok'ra were infiltrated occasionally. The Great War, moreover, had taught the Furlings about painful betrayal by those thought allies.
Always have a plan of retreat.
Always know how to escape.
"Yes," Ruarc replied, and in front of them, Ragnar gave a small, silent nod of agreement.
"Good," said Sujanha. Ruarc dropped back.
After making one last turn, Delek led Sujanha into a large and deep chamber. In the middle of the room, several display screens were laid out along with a piece of Goa'uld technology, a large red and silver stone set upon a very impractical and fragile-looking thin gold stand. Two Tok'ra, one man and one woman, were present at the back of the room, one at each of two separate tables. They appeared to be scientists, if a quick glance at their equipment was any indication. The man was tall with curly, brown hair; a long, sharp nose; and a severe expression on his face that made him look like not the most genial of men. The woman was slightly shorter with curly, golden hair that hung to her shoulders, gray eyes, and a friendly, through somewhat guarded, look on her face.
Delek spoke to them both briskly in Goa'uld, rattling off the words entirely too fast for Sujanha, whose skill at Goa'uld was basic, to have a hope of understanding even a little. The other man—it was the symbiote speaking—snapped back a reply.
I think we must be intruding upon their work.
I don't expect subspace transmitter receivers are kept in scientific laboratories.
"The data is set up, awaiting your appraisal." Delek explained without further reply to the other Tok'ra, gesturing towards the strange device set up on the nearer table. He turned back to Sujanha, who had paused in the doorway, surveying the room and its occupants. "Two of our agents who were instrumental in discovering the data are on world at the moment if you have questions."
With that, Delek departed. And how am I supposed to find them if I need them? Sujanha decided that, if she were human, she might want to bang her head against a wall, as she had seen Daniel mime doing in moments of extreme exasperation or annoyance.
Clamping down on her annoyance, Sujanha turned to her bodyguards. "Ruarc, please see if any of our people are on-world at present, and if so, check on them. Ragnar, you do not need to stay with me. Wander if you choose, but not too far."
"Of course, Commander," they both said and, after saluting, departed, their footsteps fading away. The crystal tunnels made sounds echo strangely, making it harder for her to pinpoint who was where and how close.
Sujanha was now alone in the crystal room save for the two Tok'ra. She surveyed the room again before slowly moving towards the center table. Her leg was aching fiercely by that point, and the more careful and considered her movements, the less of a limp she had. The male Tok'ra had returned to his work, but his back was tense, and he seemed either annoyed, ill-at-ease, or both. The female Tok'ra had returned to her seat but was watching Sujanha with her head slightly cocked to one side, curiosity in her gaze.
"I surmise," Sujanha asked the other woman in English, gesturing to the subspace receiver and the multiple viewing screens, "that this room is not the usual place for this equipment."
"No, it is not." The other woman replied in the same language, her dual-toned voice indicating the symbiote was in control. "This is a science lab. That receiver is the spare. The main one is located elsewhere, up multiple levels. Its room was probably judged to be too crowded and noisy for your use, Supreme Commander. Our lab is one of the few that has space for a table large enough for the equipment."
I am Supreme Commander of a very large fleet with many moving parts.
I am quite used to noise and bustle and crowds. The other room would have been workable.
And we could have avoided this inconvenience.
Sujanha bowed in the Furling fashion. "I apologize for interrupting your work, then. I will endeavor to be as quiet as possible so as not to disturb you both further."
"This was not your decision," the male Tok'ra finally turned, the symbiote still speaking. "We do not hold you at fault, even though we dislike the consequences."
Who do you hold at fault, I wonder?
Delek? He does not seem well liked.
"Nonetheless, it is because of me that your work has been disturbed, and for that, I am sorry." Sujanha let her voice trail off in a vocal tone that prompted him for a name.
"Malek," the symbiote replied with a nod of his head. "My host is named Loknu, and he greets you."
Sujanha glanced across at the other woman. "I am Kelmaa," the symbiote said. "My host is Gwynyth, and she also greets you."
"I am Sujanha," the Commander replied with a twist of her muzzle that would have indicated amusement to one of her own people, "but I am sure you already knew that."
With introductions concluded and apologies complete, Sujanha set to work. Her two temporary companions returned to their tasks, whatever those were. Their equipment was scientific in appearance, but entirely unfamiliar. The data from the Tok'ra subspace receiver was, as the message had said, important but not critical, and Sujanha deemed that it likely could have waited until an operative had returned to bring her the news. I had the time to come. Complaining about coming does no good. The distribution and grouping of the motherships indicated a marshaling of the Goa'uld forces. Whether that was for an attack against each other or against the Furlings was not clear.
Given the recent alliance against us, either is a distinct possibility.
A couple of hours passed as Sujanha studied the information and planned, making mental notes as she worked. Ragnar appeared in the doorway several times just long enough to see that she was well before disappearing again, off to patrol or speak with his brother or something. Kelmaa left once to retrieve some supplies before returning. Malek never moved from his chair.
The first tremors that shook the room happened without Sujanha realizing it, too minor to do anything except make the smallest of rattles, not enough to pierce her concentration.
Soon, more tremors shook the room more severely. Now Sujanha started and looked up, watching, listening, feeling.
By the stars?!
What?
Sujanha had been on a planet under bombardment from ships multiple times in her life, and these tremors did not feel like that. This was the earth itself moving. Earthshakes were uncommon around Uslisgas (the city) but not unheard of on other continents on the planet. She recognized the signs now.
Sujanha rose carefully from her table and moved around it to the other side, keeping one paw on the table for balance, so she could hear better what was going on outside in the adjoining tunnels. "Is this planet prone to earthshakes?" She asked.
What are the Tok'ra's procedures for such events?
Furling bases were constructed to withstand severe earthshakes, but could grown crystal tunnels withstand the force of the earth's fury if the tremors grew severe enough?
I have no idea. Evacuating could hold its own risks.
"No, not so as we had thought," Malek replied, evidently puzzled. He had risen but had stayed by his worktable. Kelmaa, on the other hand, had moved to stand by Sujanha's side.
With every second that passed, the shaking grew worse.
There was a low roaring and a rumble that was growing louder.
Dust began to fall from the crystal ceiling.
The rattling of the equipment grew ominous.
This is not a minor earthshake.
It was a struggle for Sujanha to even keep on her feet, her balance hampered by the weakness of her right leg. Kelmaa and Malek were struggling, as well. Sujanha wondered, a passing thought, where her bodyguards were, hoped to the Maker that they were safe.
"We must go. We are not safe here." It was Kelmaa who spoke.
Kelmaa and Sujanha moved towards the door, and Malek moved to follow. Just as they did so, the shaking increased many-fold. Crystals joined the cascades of dust falling from the ceiling. Then, with a roar like an oncoming storm, the very room began to collapse around them.
The instinct to protect a defenseless ally overpowered the instinct to automatically bring up her personal shield. Sujanha divided for Kelmaa, wrapping herself around the other woman, using her larger form to protect her. (Malek was too far away to help.) Then, a whisper of thought had her shield activating around her, an impenetrable blue, bubble-shield …
But not before one large falling crystal struck Sujanha hard in the small of her back.
Darkness fell.
The tremors continued as if the earth itself was about to shake apart at its seams.
All Sujanha … all they … could do and hope to not be utterly buried by debris.
It was a long time before stillness and silence returned.
Wary of further aftershocks, Sujanha counted off several minutes slowly in her head before cautiously deactivating her personal shield. Slowly and carefully, Sujanha uncurled her back and forced herself to straighten. Her back throbbed where the stone had impacted her body, and every breath was also painful. Broken ribs, probably. It was painful, but this was nothing compared to the past. Slowly, when no more large debris fell and there were no especially worrying sounds that could precede a further collapse, Sujanha finally moved back to allow Kelmaa to sit up.
The movement made the throbbing of her back worse, but there was no time to be weak.
Their lives could depend on what they did next.
The room—or, much more likely, what was left of it—was pitch black. The faint glow of the crystals was dimmed almost to nothing. Even Sujanha struggled to make out anything in the darkness, even the barest outline of 'structures,' and most Maskilim were known for their night vision. (The Gaetir, not so much.)
"Are you injured?" Sujanha asked Kelmaa, slowly reaching out one paw to touch her arm. Only having her position cataloged with the aftermath of her desperate lunge and then staying close once she moved back enabled Sujanha to actually find her and touch her.
Even her outline is hidden.
She's less than an arm's length away from me.
The answer was a long-time coming. "No," Kelmaa finally replied. "I don't think so. We are shaken but unhurt."
"Good," Sujanha replied.
At least, one of us is. That could be vital later.
Warm, sticky blood was slowly trickling down the small of Sujanha's back, making her tunic pull on her fur as she shifted. She could breathe. She could move her limbs, which meant that for now she could function, even with her entire right side (arm and leg both) adding muscle cramps, the shakes, and that pin-prick tingling to the pain her body was already in. Endure. Others may need my help. For now, she had to function. There was no other choice, not here, not now.
If the tunnel was not closed off, they needed to find a way to escape. Further aftershocks could bring what was left of the ceiling down on top of them, and as deep as they were, Sujanha had no faith that her gauntlet's shield, stretched over the three of them—we need to find Malek—could hold back the weight of the earth until help arrived.
"Where's Malek?" Kelmaa suddenly exclaimed. "Malek! MALEK!"
There was no reply. The only sounds were their voices and their breaths, now eerily loud in the quiet room.
Sujanha rose to her feet, wary of any fallen debris that might be close (or right above my head) but invisible in the inky, heavy darkness. Kelmaa rose a few seconds later. By now, Sujanha's eyes had had some minutes to adjust to the darkness. Even so, she could see nothing. It was as dark as pitch. There was simply not enough light to see anything by.
This will complicate things.
Sujanha was unfamiliar at navigating without her eyesight, and being veritably blind would make any attempts at escape to the surface much more difficult, dangerous, and time-consuming, especially in tunnels and even more so in tunnels made treacherous by fallen debris.
This gives me new respect for those who lost their sight during the Great War.
(For all their skills, neither the Ipyrsh nor the Dovahkiin, both of whom were known for their advanced prosthetic limbs, had ever been able to make working prosthetic eyes. Eyes that could fill a gaping socket and return a more normal appearance, yes. Eyes that would actually return sight to the blind, no. Prosthetic limbs were one thing, but the utter complexity of the eye was so far beyond them.)
"Stay behind me," ordered Sujanha. When Kelmaa protested that she could not see to have a hope of doing so, Sujanha gently reached back, grabbed one of her arms, and put it on her own shoulder. "Hook your fingers into my jacket."
Given where they were in the room and where Malek had been last she had seen before the room had started collapsing, Sujanha began to slowly, painfully slowly, make her way towards the back of the room and a little off to the left compared to the table she had been sitting at. Unable to see where to place her feet, she was forced to drag one foot back and forth across the floor in front of her until she could find a safe path forward for them both.
If I fall, I'll probably take Kelmaa with me, and who knows what we'll fall into?!
I have never been impaled, and that is an experience I can do without.
Moving in that manner was slow and exhausting. It also proved the disadvantage of being part of a race that never wore shoes. From the stabs of pain in her feet, Sujanha was sure that more and more shards of crystal debris were becoming lodged in the sensitive pads of her feet with every step.
Keep breathing, and keep moving.
Finally, Sujanha felt her foot impact something soft, not hard like debris.
Malek!
"I found him! My right foot is touching him, maybe his leg. Move around me slowly, Kelmaa. Be careful. I do not know what debris is nearby."
Murmuring an acknowledgement, Kelmaa slowly began to move, her hand dragging down Sujanha's arm—she almost flinched at the pressure of her grip, reasonable at any other time, but painful for her here and now—using her as a positioning system to guide her movements in the darkness. When her hand disappeared, Sujanha knelt. The body part her foot had met was, indeed, a leg, and Sujanha settled a warm paw on the man's ankle.
Do we try to see how badly he is injured? The darkness was so heavy that neither could see if Malek was even trapped by debris or just unconscious. Or dead.
No. We could dislodge something and make a dangerous situation worse.
Wait to see what he says.
In a situation like this, leaving penetrating debris in its place could keep a bleeder contained until help and healers arrived. It was undesirable, but battlefield medicine was rarely pretty. There was usually no time to stop and use healing devices in the heat of battle. You had to do what had to be done to keep wounded soldiers alive until you could get them back behind friendly lines and to shelter where healing devices could be used.
Kelmaa called her companion's name again, and finally, this time, Malek began to stir, a series of moans falling from his lips. When pained noises turned into actual muttered words, Kelmaa asked. "How badly are you hurt?" It was clear from his groans that he was hurt.
It was some time before a reply came, and when it did, it was Loknu, the host, who spoke. His voice was soft and terribly weak, and every word was a struggle for him to force out. "We are dying. Debris … crushed my chest. … Damage is … fatal. Malek"—his tone was still fond—"trying to heal … me. Not enough."
Sujanha felt a rush of sadness at those words, grief for a life soon to be cut short, grief for a pair that she did not even know, save by name.
It is the Maker's will that appoints the day of our death.
It still felt unfair sometimes that the young perished, while the old endured.
Attempting to give Kelmaa and Loknu a semblance of privacy to speak, Sujanha moved away a pace until she felt the backs of her knees hit some debris, and then she eased herself down to the ground, leaning back against something that was flat enough to function as a backrest. It was not comfortable by any means, but it was functional. The pressure against her lower back hurt—enough that she carefully adjusted her weight—but hopefully would help stop the bleeding. Just don't lean hard enough to shift any broken ribs. Puncturing a rib because of her own carelessness and drowning in her own blood would be a ridiculous way to meet her end after surviving the Enemy's poison.
The pain in her body had faded somewhat after the first onslaught. Most people would have been in agony, but between nerve damage and a generally high pain tolerance, the pain signals her body was sending her were lessened, which was helpful for continued functioning in situations like there. There was nothing that could be done for her injuries at the moment, no medical supplies or healing device at hand. Help would come.
(Compartmentalizing it away helped, too.)
We cannot leave with Malek trapped. Loknu is sure he's dying, but if there's the slightest chance Malek may be able to save them, we cannot leave him.
Using her left paw to rub at the cramps crawling up and down her bad leg, Sujanha leaned her head back against the stone and tried to think. Enough time had passed since the earthshake that, assuming that either Ragnar or Ruarc were alive and mobile—please, Maker, let them both be alive—they would have sent or be sending news back through the Stargate to Uslisgas and summoning help. Assuming they can ever reach the surface? Otherwise, our distress beacons will have to do. (She had already activated hers.) Once they were dispatched, her ships could arrive quickly with extra hands and medical supplies, but it would take longer to get the engineers and equipment from the army bases to start extracting Tok'ra from the tunnels.
Would the tremors have disabled the rings?
Some minutes later, Kelmaa rose and, imitating Sujanha, slowly made her way towards where the entrance to the room had once stood and then returned with the news that they were trapped. Debris had blocked their only way out.
One danger of living entirely underground.
Limited ways of escape if your Stargate is not underground like it is on Drehond. Multiple tunnel systems had access to the gate, and there were safeguards in place to keep the gate accessible even if the worst happened.
Feeling in the dark, Sujanha tried to activate communications on her gauntlets. The early holographic screens did not give out enough light to see what she was doing, so she abandoned that plan and pressed down three fingers on three specific places on her gauntlet, activating the emergency comm function. In this mode, the comm would automatically try to connect with the closest comm. If that failed, it would attempt to connect with the next closest and then the next closest after that until a connection was made or all connections near enough for it to have power to possibly reach failed.
Several heart-stopping moments passed where nothing happened.
Only silence.
Please, Maker, no.
Ruarc and Ragnar had been by her side for hundreds of years. If she had led them to their deaths, after they had survived the Great War … please, Maker, no, no, no. Finally, finally, after an eternity … that was probably seconds long … there was a small chime. A connection! A moment later, the small, blue holographic outline of Ragnar appeared over her left gauntlet. It gave out just enough light for Sujanha to make out the barest, indistinct outlines of Kelmaa and Loknu's forms nearby.
(It was also enough for her to barely make out the outline of the debris crushing Loknu. How is he even still alive? What hope she had that Malek might be able to heal his host vanished in an instant.)
"Commander, thank the Maker that you're alive." Ragnar's voice was filled with relief.
"I am … very relieved to see you," Sujanha replied in Furling. "Does your brother live?"
"Yes," Ragnar answered immediately. "He was on the surface when the earthshake hit. I told him all I knew about conditions in the tunnels, and he has gone home to summon aid. I am trapped maybe … one or two levels up from you, or I would have tried to reach you by now. Those with me are relatively unhurt, but there are major collapses across all levels throughout the tunnel system. There are trapped and injured all over."
As Daniel says, this is so not good.
"We are where you left me," said Sujanha. "Kelmaa is uninjured, but Malek's host is dying. The entrance to this chamber has collapsed, and we are trapped, but the room is large enough that the air should last for some time."
(In the chaos of the moment, she forgot that both of her bodyguards had left before introductions had been made and would have not heard the names of the two Tok'ra with her.)
"We will move as quickly as we can. Do you have instructions?" If Ragnar noticed that she had not reported on her own condition, he chose not to comment.
"Continue what you are doing, but have word sent to Algar. The fleet is his to command until I am freed."
I don't know enough to issue orders.
"Of course, Commander. It will be done. Maker preserve you!"
"And you!"
With that farewell, the blue hologram disappeared, and the room again was bathed in inky darkness. (She was glad that, for all her struggles, the war had not left her with a terror of small, enclosed spaces like it had some.) Sujanha quickly recapped the news for her two companions.
"Your ships, when they arrive," Kelmaa asked after Sujanha had finished, "can they beam us out?" Her voice contained a note of burgeoning hope. Being beamed out would get Malek medical attention much sooner, perhaps even quickly enough to preserve his life.
I fear there will be no miracle today, not for him.
"No, at least not for now." Sujanha replied regretfully. "It is too dangerous with the tunnels in these conditions to attempt to beam anyone out of the collapsed sections."
"How is beaming them out any more dangerous than leaving them trapped when the earthshakes might return?" Kelmaa's voice was almost incredulous.
Fair enough.
"It is a calculated risk," Sujanha admitted. "If all the trapped were in one or even a handful of locations, the situation would be different. However, from what Ragnar has said, there are trapped across your very expansive tunnel system in many scattered locations. Our beaming technology cannot beam everyone out at the same exact instance. Except with groups in extremely close proximity, beamings happen sequentially over time. It is also incredibly difficult and time-consuming to coordinate beamings between ships. Without a better knowledge of the debris field and where a person is, beaming a person out from the wrong place can destabilize debris, causing further collapses, which can make further rescue more difficult and only increase the loss of life."
A very calculated risk.
Sujanha paused for a minute and then added. "That is not to say that none can be beamed out. It will just not happen quickly and not before engineers have had time to study the tunnels and the pattern of the debris field."
With the hope of a speedy rescue gone, silence fell over the crystal chamber, which still had a possibility of being their tomb.
Time passed with interminable slowness. It could have been hours, or perhaps not. Time had less meaning down in that dark void.
Ragnar, who was getting his information from those on the surface, commed Sujanha a handful of times to update her on the progress of the rescue work. And probably to check on me, too. Soldiers, engineers, diggers, and healers with supplies had arrived from Uslisgas and several bases within the Milky-Way. Several Furling motherships, escorting a mercy ship,[1] had also entered orbit about Vorash to receive the wounded as they were extracted from the upper tunnels, some of which were open to the air, and to help in other matters as needed.
Progress was being made but slowly. The earthshakes had been severe, and everything had to be done cautiously, wary of hidden dangers.
Loknu continued to fade as time passed. His pained moans and stuttered breaths testified to his decline. Malek was still trying to heal him, spending his strength in a probably futile attempt to keep his host alive. Yet, from what Loknu was saying, it would all be for naught. All Malek could do was keep Loknu from suffering and, perhaps, postpone the end slightly.
As long as it's been, I don't think the healers could do anything for him now, even if they might have been able to in the beginning. I doubt they could have, though.
Loknu's end was coming soon, and without another host or a quick rescue (and a stasis container), Malek would die with his host.
The sound of his ragged, labored breaths was all too familiar to Sujanha. She had sat by many death beds during the Great War, and the sounds of death approaching were like this. Loknu, she knew, already had one foot made wet by the Seas of Night on which his spirit would set sail away. Death was coming soon, very soon.
(For him … he and his host both, if nothing changed. Perhaps for them all.)
Sujanha closed her eyes, tipped her head back to rest against the stones, and tried to think. Malek faced a choice: die with his host if he was unwilling or too injured (or exhausted) to leave or take a different host. Only one host was available in that dark chamber: Sujanha herself, a fact that left her in a … dilemma.
She was not unwilling to be a host by any means. She had spoken with Jacob Carter at times, curious about his experiences and with those of her people who had become hosts. The idea of a constant companion, friend, advisor, always with one, sounded … pleasant.
And yet, she knew nothing about Malek beyond a few brief conversations these last hours.
And yet, would it not be dishonorable not to make the offer, not to give Malek a choice and a chance at life? Who was to say that he even might not be able to switch hosts later?
And yet, would becoming a host call her status in the fleet into question? Sujanha feared it might. Her loyalty was supposed to be to Ivar, to the Empire, to her people first, perhaps even alone. If she was host, it would open the door for the impartiality of her decisions in the War, especially where the Goa'uld or the Tok'ra were concerned, to be questioned and, perhaps, even her loyalty itself.
Algar is prepared to replace me if that course of action would be determined to be best by King and Council.
I have devoted my life to the Empire, but I must not sacrifice my honor to do my duty.
If my duty requires my health, my life, I am willing to sacrifice it, but never my honor.
(And yet, what would she do, what would she be without the Fleet?)
"Loknu," Sujanha finally spoke, her voice steady despite a sudden flare of pain that raced up, down, and across her back and right leg.
In the darkness, Sujanha could hear him stir at the sound of her voice, but it was some moments before he could summon the strength to respond. "Yes?" His voice was a mere thready whisper.
"If one were to be found, would Malek be willing to switch hosts?"
"Not until … all hope … is … lost … He is … determined to … save me," Loknu replied, each word a struggle to force out. "But what host … could … be found … here?"
"I offer myself," answered Sujanha, "if Malek is willing."
Kelmaa gave a gasp that echoed in the stillness of the quiet room.
It was another long moment before Loknu replied, but when he spoke, it was actually the duel-toned voice of the symbiote who forced out a single question. "Why?"
'Why' was a vague question that could have many possible answers. Sujanha deliberated for a moment before starting with the most obvious answer, "Because, Malek, you will die without a new host, and I am the only potential host in this room, unless help comes soon, and if I am not mistaken, there is little time left."
"Why now?" Loknu was back, every word a struggle. "Never … offered … before."
"There was never a need such as this."
Loknu tried to speak again—there was a moan of pain and then some vague, indeterminate sound—but couldn't get his voice loud enough for Sujanha to hear him. Kelmaa moved closer and began to speak for him. "Are you truly willing? Or do you feel forced by circumstances?"
"In a way, the answer to both your questions is yes," Sujanha answered slowly. Her own strength was fading, and she was beginning to feel so very tired. "I have no great desire to become a host, but I am not unwilling to become one by any means. I feel it would be wrong to not at least offer you a chance to survive."
"We know nothing of each other. I am weak." Malek was back. His words in Kelmaa's mouth had a different intonation, a different feel. "I would not be able to leave you for some time."
"My offer is not a temporary one. Once we become acquainted, I am sure we are old enough to, at least, as the Mid … as the Tauri say, 'get along.'"
"Some say I am hard to 'get along' with."
You cannot be any worse than some of my fellow High Councilors.
"And I command thousands upon thousands. I am quite skilled at bridging divides and dealing with difficult personalities."
Loknu gave a quiet laugh that turned into a cry of pain as his injuries were jarred.
Sujanha took a deep breath. "Before you make your decision, Malek, there is one thing you should know, and please, Kelmaa, never repeat this."
(It would be wrong to not offer him a chance at life. It would be just as wrong to not warn him of what exactly her condition was. A healthy person in the prime of life, she was not. Well, in the standards of her people, she was the latter in terms of statistics and averages, but most certainly not the former.)
"Of course," Kelmaa assured her.
"I am dying. I was poisoned centuries ago. My health is fragile, and I am usually in some degree of pain. I doubt that I will live another hundred years, though I do not expect to die soon. You would likely outlive me, and not I you." Hundreds of years of suffering condensed into a few sentences.
"It matters not," Kelmaa replied for Malek. "If the need comes, I accept your offer." She fell silent and then added another phrase that must have been from Loknu, not Malek, "Thank you."
"Of course."
Silence fell across the crystal chamber once again.
Sujanha felt relieved to have the decision made, whatever the resulting outcome ended up being. Loknu's every breath—raspy and weakening with every passing minute—seemed to almost get louder and louder in her ears. She was relieved for his sake that, down in this dark void with no medical care, Malek could, at least, ease his passing and ensure that his host did not die alone.
(Dying alone and in pain was not a fate that she would wish on any.)
When Loknu's breaths became so weak that even Sujanha could barely hear them, she slowly and painfully climbed to her feet. The movements sent a bolt of pain running through her chest and back and down her right side. For a moment, she feared that she might fall as her knee started to buckle, but her leg brace locked into place, stabilizing her side, and her leg held. Slowly, wary of falling, Sujanha slowly shuffled to Loknu's side and sat down beside him in the darkness. Finding his arm, she slid her paw down until she could rest it on his hand. His arm twisted, and a hand slipped into her paw and squeezed weakly.
"Are you sure of your choice?" Kelmaa asked.
"I am," Sujanha replied without hesitation.
A few more minutes passed and Loknu's breaths finally stuttered to a stop. Sujanha could hear Kelmaa moving on his other side, and she offered up a brief prayer. Maker, grant him swift passage across the Sea of Night and receive him into your halls. May he find the peace that the Tok'ra have not known in life.
"You need to lie down, Commander," said Kelmaa.
Sujanha did so, awkwardly, painfully. Slight fear curled in her belly, not of Malek, but of the unknown. She knew her life was about to change permanently, but her conviction that she was doing the right thing steadied her. She heard Kelmaa say a few words in Goa'uld. Then there was a rather unpleasant noise she could not identify—I might not want to know—and then came a squeaking noise that must have been from Malek as he emerged from his fallen host.
I hope he can see better in this darkness than I can.
Kelmaa moved as swiftly to Sujanha's side as she could in the darkness and knelt beside her. Their arms met, and Sujanha felt a cool, almost slimy touch curling around her arm as Malek was transferred across.
"Open your jaw."
Sujanha would never be able to put her thoughts on the joining into coherent words. For her, it was a mixture of a sense of pain and strangeness, though even that did not adequately express her thoughts. She could feel the symbiote's touch upon her face, and she opened her jaw to its widest extent so that he did not cut his fragile body upon her razor-sharp fangs. His passage across her tongue made her want to gag, but that feeling was quickly surpassed by the pain in her throat. It felt like being stabbed in the throat with a knife. The movement in the back of her throat and around her spine as Malek adjusted himself made Sujanha's skin crawl and her stomach roll, a feeling which the blood in her mouth and throat did not help. Only her formidable self-control kept back the urge to panic.
After a few more moments, Sujanha felt a mental touch at the back of her mind—their mind, she corrected herself—and then a few soft words. The voice was firm, that of one used to command and being obeyed, but was tinged with overwhelming sadness and utter exhaustion.
*I am sorry for hurting you. Thank you. I must rest a moment, and then I will heal your throat.*
It took a moment before Sujanha could determine how to reply. We are connected, but are we blended? How much of her thoughts could he see for now? Hear?
*The pain is a small thing.* She whispered back mentally. *I have borne much worse.* Which was the truth. The taste of blood was worse than the pain now that the first shock, first stab had faded. *I grieve with thee at Loknu's death,* she said formally.
Malek did not reply verbally, mentally verbally, but Sujanha could feel his gratefulness, an odd feeling for one used to being alone in her own mind. A few minutes passed, and then she felt a tingling begin in her throat, and soon the taste of blood faded somewhat.
*I fear you are badly injured.* Malek finally spoke again after a long silence. *And I am very weary.*
Sujanha wondered for a moment if her injury where the rock had struck her back might be more severe than she had first thought. As her bodyguards often reminded her, she was not the best judge of her own health given her high pain tolerance, necessary for her to function semi-normally on a day-to-day basis. *I was struck by a falling chunk of rock … crystal, which broke multiple ribs. I have suffered worse. Rest.*
*It is more severe than only a broken rib.* Malek replied. Sujanha felt a sudden surge of protectiveness from him. *When we have blended, I will do what my strength allows.*
Blending was a strange thing, and when it was finished, they were one, and yet separate. They knew the memories of the other, but Sujanha was still Sujanha, and Malek was still Malek. She felt very tired. The air in the cavern seemed to be getting thin.
(Or was it her?)
*Sleep!* Her symbiote told her. She could feel his deep concern for her. *If I take control while I try to heal you, your pain will be dulled.*
*Not yet.* Sujanha replied. She forced her eyes open, staring into the darkness. She reached out a paw and touched Kelmaa, who sat beside them.
"You're awake," Kelmaa exclaimed, switching her grip to allow her to squeeze Sujanha's paw.
"How long has it been?" Sujanha asked.
"The blending always takes time," she replied. "But how long? In this darkness, it is hard to judge."
"Will you pass a message for me to my people when they arrive?" Sujanha asked. "To one of my bodyguards, Ruarc or Ragnar, would be best, or someone from my flagship. I am weary and injured. Malek will take control soon."
"Of course," Kelmaa replied, a note of concern in her voice. "Anything."
Sujanha gave her a message in Furling—"Algar rules the fleet until the High King and the High Council approve my return"—and made Kelmaa repeat it three times until she had the pronunciation close enough. Not perfect, but close enough for comprehension. Then Sujanha let her eyes drift shut. She was so tired.
*What must I do to give you control?*
This was all so new.
*Nothing.* Malek replied. *Just do not fight me.* Sujanha felt his presence move forward from the back of their mind, encircling her. Then her limbs were out of her control. Earlier, she might have been frightened, but now she knew him, trusted him. *Sleep.*
Sujanha let herself drift away into the blackness.
[1] The inter-galactic version of a US hospital ship.
