Monday, April 6, 2020

Teal'c watched his surroundings, his decades of experience keeping his instincts alert. Still, his mind wandered. To his friends. To the Tau'ri. To the planet which had won nearly as much of his loyalty as his own.

He couldn't protect them from this illness which was sweeping through their people, but perhaps, he could protect them from this threat. That single hope fueled him through the moments of uncertainty and worry.

Rya'c walked up the path from the village below. In the last several years, his son had filled out more broadly with age and confidence. No longer a lean youngster, his years of training with Master Bra'tac and the warriors of the Hak'tyl had given him not only courage and wisdom but also physical prowess and strength.

Rya'c stood beside Teal'c as they surveyed the terrain of farm land. "My contact at the tavern indicated that traders from the Lucian Alliance came by this morning after they accepted delivery of their usual kassa order. He plied them with food and drink, and they admitted that they are forgoing their usual deliveries in order to assist with some great battle."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "The Tau'ri."

Rya'c nodded. "The traders did not say, but I believe you are correct."

Teal'c sighed, returning his gaze to the green and gold farmland. "This planet is but a three-day journey to the Tau'ri by ship."

"If the earth vessel Hammond will be unavailable to protect the Tau'ri, we must warn our Jaffa brothers and sisters to ready themselves for battle."

Teal'c clapped a hand on his son's shoulder. "Yes, and you will deliver the message by the Chappa'ai. I will take the alkesh so that I may warn the Tau'ri of how many ships they may expect."

Where once Rya'c might have argued with him in an attempt to prove his strength, the man his son had become just nodded and clapped his arm in a traditional Jaffa gesture of respect. "Be well, Father."

He grinned in pride at his son, who was now a father himself to two sons and a daughter, each as strong and eager as their parents and hopefully the first generation of Jaffa to live without need of Tretonin or a prim'ta. "Be well, my son."