Chapter 65 - Same Old
According to Selmak, the Council had contacted Martouf and Lantash to find a time for Sam and Jolinar to sneak into Dorieth, by going offworld and then joining another slave transfer. Once there, they should be able to blend in with a disguise.
A disguise. Sam first looked in the mirror, pictured herself in slave guard and without the Jaffa tattoo she had worn previously. That would have been enough, except for her hair. She fingered her dyed-blonde hair, knowing it was a rare color, especially among slaves.
*That can be fixed,* said Jolinar.
If the Tok'ra had resources for anything, it was for effective infiltration, including appropriate disguises. Jolinar was given something that would strip all but the natural dye from hair. Sam had always liked her golden hair, but she didn't need it. She was quick to agree to the permanence of the disguise, and before the day was out, she was looking at almost a new self in the mirror.
Her natural hair was a mousy blonde color like it had been as a child, dark without being quite brown. Easily long enough to pull back, she did so—it accentuated the slight angular look her face had. She'd lost weight during their healing, and hadn't gained it all back. Along with the scar, and the way that there was no tattoo to draw the gaze upward, she only recognized herself because she knew. They'd still have to play it differently, but she doubted that anyone would be on the lookout for Coron in disguise.
Other than perhaps the Abydonians. She'd gotten it approved with the Council that she could speak to them, eventually, once her cover was established. Their actions had come to the attention of both Martouf and Lantash, and through him the Council. Slightly disturbed, but not wanting to mess with something that worked, the Council had agreed to keeping the status quo. Cautiously, and it was not something they would have chosen—still, it was enough for Sam and Jolinar.
Finally clad in worn but functional clothes, Jolinar walked up to the gate for the first time in what felt like forever. Shan'ak still waited and did his job as always. Sam listened to the sound of each locking chevron, and felt the desire for this mission course through her veins again.
*Ready?*
~Definitely.~
Maybe a little sharper, maybe less at ease, but by the time they were through the gate Sam and Jolinar felt like they'd regained something. It was night on this planet, and quietly they slipped among the slaves gathered for morning transfer.
Coron had come naturally to them when their mission first started, and now a new identity began to rise easily. Devret. Jolinar chose the name, but together they found their unobtrusive side and pushed it forward.
The morning came and Jolinar saw no Jaffa that she recognized when they came to lead Jolinar and her fellow slaves to the gate. Jolinar hunched over a little, letting her lids shade her eyes. For the first time on this mission, they weren't sure what would happen on the other side.
Dorieth was not the same place they'd left three weeks ago. The rubble from the temple had been pushed aside, some of it gone entirely. What was left on the bottom was being reassembled into a foundation. And Jolinar had no idea what the eventual result would be. The control wasn't theirs anymore.
She curbed her curiosity and did not look again. At first it seemed like they would be put to use on the road—and that's continued existence gave Sam a moment of morbid satisfaction—but then they and a few others were withdrawn and sent to an area just off the mines that was being stripped of lumber. On the road up there, Jolinar smelled smoke and saw it rising over the horizon to the north.
*That would explain the absence of some of the rubble. I would guess that additional furnaces have been built.*
~Which is the reason for the wood, I'm guessing.~
*This world is not technologically advanced enough to have more machinery. It seems that Quetesh had one purpose alone, and our destruction...*
~Really messed up the balance,~ Sam finished.
The terrain was steep and difficult up to the tropical forests that covered the western hills of Dorieth, and the Jaffa stopped three quarters of the way up. Ordering Jolinar and the other slaves forward, they held that position, calling up commands that were relayed to the furthermost part of the lumber camp.
Relieved that they would not be watched, Jolinar took herself and Sam up as high as possible, and was glad to be in the shade.
*Now to work,* Jolinar said, but prematurely.
"Samantha?" Jolinar tensed at the disastrous word and did not turn in answer. She didn't have to, as the speaker came around to check his assumption. "You are Samantha."
Jolinar paused, and glanced to make sure that the Jaffa were well out of the way. This was an Abydonian, the one who had approached Sam and Jolinar about their disguise on this very planet. Creot was his name, she thought she remembered.
"I almost did not recognize you," Creot said, a low voice, a bit of a smile on his face. "But I was expecting this."
"Is that so?" Jolinar asked in a low voice.
"I saw and heard what you did before," Creot continued. "I knew that you would do anything to succeed in this mission, as Kasuf relayed to us. When you disappeared, and Tirnin the false god said that you were disgraced, I did not believe it."
"Then you are half-foolish," Jolinar said, but without harshness.
Creot bowed his head. "I do not choose to despair."
Jolinar paused, but decided that Sam's feeling was right. "In this instance you were correct. We have returned to aid you, and all the peoples on this planet."
"Then we will have sanctuary ready for you," Creot said, nodding.
"Later," Jolinar cautioned. The moment of surprise at this meeting did not past quickly, though.
Despite the exercise they'd been able to achieve on the Tok'ra homeworld, the rest of the day challenged their limits already. Jolinar's symbiote strength didn't carry as far as it should, and Sam felt little twitches threatening their movement. They swung the ax with wide strokes, and it stopped feeling good when thudding into the trees with a shuddering vibration sent her hints of nausea.
Darkness fell, and the end of the shift welcomed them. Silent and relieved, sweat lines on her dusty face, Sam walked with the rest of the slaves back to their quarters. She saw just enough room for her and Jolinar to squeeze in one corner.
But then, the next shift left, and before Sam could settle, Creot had beckoned her towards him and started talking. Not too loudly, just enough that his fellow slaves would quiet down to listen. "Oh my family," he said, the Abydonian opening sounding strange but welcome in the common tongue. "Be quiet and listen to my words."
With only a buzz breaking the silence, Sam watched everyone move to the center of the chambers, huddling so that Creot's voice could be quiet. Not all were Abydonians, and Sam wondered how Creot could almost command them like this. When they were all ready, he continued.
"Once we had the aid of one who served the false gods under pretenses," Creot said, voice low but firm enough to carry to the group. "Coron."
Sam felt a little proud as she saw the heads nodding.
"Coron was discovered and cannot return," Creot continued. "But the one who gave Coron life has returned to us to fulfill her mission." He put his hand on Sam's shoulder, and the entire group shifted their gaze.
A hush fell. Jolinar was wary for a moment, and Sam's stance became a little uncomfortable.
"Then we may yet prevail?" one of the Abydonians among the group asked.
Creot nodded, and the group murmured amongst themselves, possibly hopeful. "She is here to help us, and we are here to help her."
Sam nodded to them all, unsure, and then suddenly the crowd was pressing closer, and the buzz of a barely audible murmur surrounded her. Her breath caught in her chest, and she felt hands resting on her head and shoulders, as if in blessing. Jolinar soothed her heart's rate, recognizing that this was no attack, only a kind of reverence.
They started to back up, and Sam looked into their faces, seeing desperate eyes circled with dark shadows. Her tension faded as she saw the faint light of hope, the trembling of some hands, the instant looks of openness. To them, she was another equal.
Her heart swelled in a way she hadn't felt in a while. It hurt, and she swallowed sharply. She put out her hand, gently touching each of the hands near her, looking from face to face. The crowd no longer invaded, it was filling the sense of emptiness that for a moment she'd forgotten waited back there. "I make my vow to you," she said quietly, firmly. "I am here to do all in my power to see that Quetesh is brought down, and all of you are freed."
More hands were outstretched, reaching through to the center of the circle, helping affirm the shared vow.
"And we," said one of the non-Abydonians. "We cannot let you be discovered again."
There was a murmur of approval, but Jolinar didn't know what it meant.
"Today is the last day that you must expose yourself to the Jaffa," agreed Creot, nodding. "We will hide you among us, our light hidden beneath a jar."
Sam and Jolinar both had nothing to say, not having expected these words.
"There are many of us, and only few Jaffa, so there should be no fear for any of us," answered the other one who had spoken.
"What shall we call you?" one of the women asked.
Sam swallowed. "Devret," she said.
"You will be safe on this world, Devret," said another Abydonian, putting his hand on Sam's shoulder. "And together we will succeed against all false gods."
Jolinar inwardly blustered at his overconfidence, but even so, it was a pleasant reminder. Sam gave a slight smile, and nodded her acceptance. Already, Creot started to speak to "his" people, beginning the plans that would keep Sam and Jolinar hidden in safety.
They weren't supposed to feel this support. Their mission was supposed to be covert. But as they saw the initiative and agency of these people, nurtured to be rebellious over long time, Sam felt the pull of memory. Teamwork. Jolinar could scarce remember when she'd last needed it, but Sam could.
And in that moment, Sam said something, but only moments before the words came to Jolinar. Screw the Tok'ra High Council. This mission would succeed because of cooperation, and Jolinar and Sam would make sure of it. Any information that could be useful, Sam decided that they would share. And together, they would put a plan together.
Sam settled down in a corner that could not be seen from any door, tucked behind a curtain. "Thank you," she said, nodding to the young man who got her settled. She paused, then realized she'd need to start a new habit. "And what is your name?"
"Drego," he said, nodding. "And it is my thanks that I would give, rather."
"Maybe you should wait until we get something done," Sam said, but she gave him a last nod.
Her exhaustion didn't weigh so heavily as she fell asleep that night.
ooooooo
In the morning, as Daniel saw nothing urgent on his agenda, his mind seemed to leap in response to remind him. Dr. Jordan—had he really not had contact with him since that one and only mission? In all that had happened, he wondered if Jordan had forgotten him, or at least thought Daniel had done so.
Before picking up the phone to give a call, Daniel paused to think. Did he mention Sha're and Shifu, the two who had taken so much of his time? Or did he jump, maybe, to the Ancient discoveries that would surely interest the professor? Maybe he could fax over the information first, so that they could discuss first impressions together. But no, that wouldn't work, not with Jordan probably having assistants in his office who were not cleared.
Shaking all that off, Daniel dialed the university office number of Dr. Jordan.
"Uh, yes, Dr. Jordan please?" he said as soon as someone picked up the phone. He tucked his under his chin, opening up his computer files related to the Ancient legacy device.
"This is Dr. Gardner, but I'm afraid he isn't in. May I take a message?"
Daniel wasn't prepared to hear the warm British tones. Somewhere in the back of his mind he'd known Sarah was still working with Jordan. But this... "Uh, let him know Dr. Daniel Jackson called?" he barely got out without stumbling.
"Daniel?"
"It's been a long time, Sarah," he said, not sure what to read from her shocked tone. That, at least, was true.
"Three years," he heard her voice come through the line, flatter than even the phone distortion made it.
There was a long pause. "Well, I'll just call back later."
"Yes, I'm sure that will be acceptable," Sarah said coolly.
Daniel put his phone back on the hook, and sighed. An empty day, free for any impression, and this was how it started.
There was a reason he'd chosen this life. A reason he still lived on base, rather than vouching for Sha're to come home with him to his apartment in the "real" world. And it would still be valid for a while yet.
ooooooo
The next morning, Jolinar was stunned to see the organization of the Doriens (the only name Sam could devise, since it was only in her mind that she would use it). She and Sam had seen that they were cooperating somehow, before, as they slowly rebelled against their Jaffa commanders. She could not have guessed the extent, however.
The Abydonians had started it. Creot and Inchen she had met before, and they led well from the head. Nirishi managed the structure, however. She was not young and fiery, but well into middle age and only quietly strong. Her labors had been the first to unite both Abydonians and those who had never known freedom, and nearly half of the planet now looked to her in some way. All of them were accounted for, and all of them kept aware of whatever went on. Creot might tell Inchen to test the limits, but it was Nirishi who kept everything low key.
Jolinar stayed with her during this day. She was responsible for the food production, and managed to smuggle Jolinar in; the Jaffa did not pay close attention to such trivial things as rations preparation, only what products went in and came out.
They'd practiced using single words, quietly spoken in the Abydonian that the Jaffa didn't know, as a way to transfer information to everyone in the know on the planet. If a new plan was made, all the Doriens would know within the day. They already knew of "Devret", or of Coron's return, rather. And if Devret wanted to command them to do something else, they would be swiftly ready.
Jolinar barely left the dark smoky building where Nirishi and others prepared the food, but when she did, she managed to see from the edges of the settlement how orderly were all the slaves involved. And she started to see more and more possibilities.
Night came again, and Sam's encouragement was barely necessary. Darkness filled the packed quarters where the "leaders" of the Doriens gathered.
"There is almost a plan," Jolinar said in a low voice. "But it will require that which does not come naturally. What do any of you know of the Free Jaffa?"
Only one voice spoke up, a woman called Oraea. "A myth?"
"No," Jolinar answered. "No, that is what the false gods would have us all believe."
A gentle murmur rippled through the crowd.
"Without the Jaffa, what would the Goa'uld be?" Jolinar continued. "Nothing. And they know this well. It is why they train their Jaffa from birth to be the children of falsehood, and make them the enemies of those who are no more slaves. The Jaffa are just as much slaves as you, unable to rebel lest they lose their lives and the lives of their children."
Following closely on her last words, Jolinar could hear that the people listened.
"So we will free you all from the hands of the Goa'uld. Some Jaffa have already rebelled for good, and have survived. Before this planet can be freed from Quetesh, the same must be done with her Jaffa here."
"Surely it will not work with them all," said Drego in a quiet but earnest tone.
That was probably true, but Sam had high hopes. "It does not need to be unanimous," Jolinar said. And there was always the power of the contagion of rebellion.
Hope for freedom drowned out all other prejudices, Jolinar saw, as she continued to talk. Sam could understand that, could see how their minds had been opened to so many things, so that seeing themselves as equals of the Jaffa was only a small step. And it would mean more numbers to face Quetesh with.
Jolinar explained the plan, explained how Tirnin was not a Goa'uld but another spy, to bring down Quetesh from within her own ranks. Devret would lead the Doriens and all Free Jaffa that they converted against Quetesh, and they would defend themselves and drive out all her influence from this planet. That would be an example to others, and a drop in a pool of water; the ripples would spread, as the people would take up Quetesh's arms to use against her.
The sheer thrill of the endeavor, untinged by the worries that plagued Jolinar and Sam, filtered through the Doriens like wind through a flapping door. The grandeur, the audaciousness, and the chance of success—each effort became more focused, as hope sprung vibrant in every heart, giving more reason to appear whatever part was theirs.
With each hour, they were becoming more connected. With each new day, something like an army would come closer to being, united under leadership chosen rather than assigned. Jolinar felt the spread of her influence, and though she had not taken it by force, the power was still there. No longer alone, little fears started to fade away for good with no effort from her.
When morning came, she had the Doriens on the lookout for Jaffa rebellion. Two reports came back quickly, of Jaffa seen arguing amongst themselves about what Quetesh might or might not know. Doubt. Any was good. And as Jolinar walked the perimeters, she saw the discord more closely than the Doriens could. They still saw their captors, but Sam and Jolinar had lived with the Jaffa as subordinates.
~They sense something wrong about this whole situation,~ said Sam.
*All reports said that this world has been crudely handled since our absence.*
~And with the seeds we sowed before, it must be even more a mess.~
*Everything is seething underneath the apparent calm,* Jolinar remarked, as she one Jaffa strike out at a Doriethenne, only to find himself approached by a Jaffa further up in the hierarchy, and rebuked in some subtle way. The Jaffa had been a harsh race, but never blunt or entirely brutal.
Sam noted next the disorder of the Jaffa, and how little they noted what the Doriens did. No one remarked on productivity, demanding more of it. They merely frowned, as if unsure whether they really wanted this.
And things on the planet still festered after the destruction of the temple. There was no shadow on the settlement in the morning, and only the mountains to the west offered shade in the afternoon. A stench hung where the rubble was slowly disappearing, and a new platform set into place. There was no eagerness, though, only drudgery, on all sides. The heat could explain much, as could the destruction of morale because of disaster, still an unsolved mystery to the people of this world.
But even more, Quetesh had let things slip. When things were well, her laxness served in her favor. Now, she should have held the ropes tight, ordered everything perfectly in line. Instead she'd let it fail, not establishing proper leadership quickly and permanently.
And just as Sam thought that maybe things were getting close, Quetesh was on their heels again.
Jolinar felt the moment of panic first when the gate activated. No warning, and the timing was all wrong. Even from the edge, completely out of reach, she recognized who was coming through. Quetesh was back.
"What do we do?" asked Nirishi, breathing in slowly from where she stood behind Sam.
Heart pounding in her chest and mind, Sam managed to say in an even voice, "Nothing is connected to us yet."
*But this could influence us, even if—* Jolinar managed.
Sam knew that. She could feel the sand falling faster from their hourglass, and they had only just started. What disaster would Quetesh bring this time?
Standing in the shelter of the treeline, Sam just watched Quetesh's envoy go to the Jaffa commander's housing, and disappear within. Then, for hours, nothing happened.
Their signals had already improved, and soon Sam heard that no one knew why she had come. She had given no demands, to either Jaffa or slaves.
"And if there is some demand?" Inchen asked Sam, more worried.
Sam bit her lip, understanding his question. What if Quetesh demanded a price in blood, for some unknown reason? Or some equally disastrous request? What escape was set in place? "I'm not sure yet," she said.
"We are all ready to fight for whatever you want," Inchen assured her, leaning in close.
Sam shook her head. "Don't assume. Not yet."
She'd barely been back on the planet two days. As the night shifts started, and Quetesh still stayed within the housing, Sam and Jolinar got closer to the village. The Jaffa spoke worriedly among themselves, not caring who heard. Quetesh seemed upset, but why come like that? What did she mean? In the shadows cast by flickering torches, Sam flitted among them, almost invisible in her near-camouflage robes.
~We didn't come back too soon at all,~ she said to Jolinar, heart still pounding.
The tone was dangerous around every corner, and Sam came back to her hidden hideaway among the Doriens with a whole variety of worries. But most of all, that things were too volatile. Too much tension, too much to judge what direction they'd snap if the tension was suddenly and forcefully broken. And that was sure to happen.
But the hope was still new in them, too, and that had to mean something.
—
Author's Notes: I'm back from vacation now. Thank you all so much for your feedback! I'm afraid I won't have time to reply to it, but I'm definitely taking it all into account, and will try to reply to future feedback.