Team, Part 2
 
 
“Sooo,” Jack said to Vala, looking down the table at the woman as she stretched like a cat, “you're not making this up?”
 
“Why, General, I am wounded that you would even think of such a thing,” Vala responded, seemingly in mock anger, although there was a bite to her words.
 
“A Goa'uld insane asylum.”
 
“Yes, in a manner of speaking. Although it didn't provide asylum or offer any kind of treatment, for that matter. A place where the System Lords kept crazy Goa'uld.”
 
“Crazy Goa'uld,” Jack said, deadpan. “That would be Goa'uld so crazy that even other Goa'uld thought they were crazy?”
 
“Yes.”
 
“That's not redundant? 'Crazy Goa'uld'? Because I always thought. . . .”
 
“I don't believe so, O'Neill,” Teal'c interrupted. “The Goa'uld are power-hungry and evil but capable of rational decision making in their own self-interest. . . .”
 
“Well, coming from a man who used to call himself 'First Prime,' I'll take that for what it's worth. I mean, talk about redundant. . . .”
 
Kal'toc, who sat across from Vala, stared at the people around the table. He was particularly shocked that General O'Neill had spoken so irreverently to Master Teal'c, the man he and others considered the true founder of the Free Jaffa Nation, and his discussion with Vala Mal Doran . . . Vala, he corrected himself . . . was beyond his comprehension. Yet the others at the table—General Landry, Colonel Carter, Daniel Jackson and his own teammates—seemed amused by the conversation, and Master Teal'c, after only the shortest of pauses, nodded, in seeming agreement that First Prime was indeed “redundant.” Kal'toc turned to Captain Grogan, who sat next to him, and Grogan mouthed “later.” Kal'toc relaxed at this and decided to just observe. It was only his fourth mission debriefing, and his first with General O'Neill and the rest of SG-1 present.
 
Finally, General Landry cleared his throat and said, dryly, “I don't suppose we can begin the debriefing. It might surprise you Home World Security types, but the SGC doesn't run itself.”
 
Jack nodded to the general at the other end of the table: “It's your show, Hank.”
 
“I often wonder,” Landry muttered to himself before beginning. “So, Ms. Mal Doran,” he said, “tell us what you know about this 'asylum' and why you think that the Goa'uld from P3X-271 was an “inmate.”
 
“I don't know much about it, General. Qetesh visited this facility several times, but never while I was her host. The System Lords would amuse themselves by putting the inmates, as you call them, in a host and watching them carry on; they would torment them, let them loose on unsuspecting “slaves” or use them in whatever way they wished to entertain themselves at the moment. I believe they also experimented on them.”
 
“That is seriously bent, even for the Goa'uld,” Cam said.
 
The rest of the people at the table stared at him, then started talking over each other. Jack said, “Too bent for the Goa'uld?” while Teal'c stated, “I do not believe this is uncharacteristic Goa'uld behavior,” and Daniel said, “Did you ever read the report about the ceremony I witnessed where the System Lords ate other symbiotes, live symbiotes?” Even Kal'toc found himself moved to say, “Colonel Mitchell, there is no evil that is beyond the Goa'uld.”
 
Grogan started to laugh and swallowed it, and Vala smiled at him, probably the first genuine smile she'd given her new teammate. There was life in the preternaturally calm and straightforward captain after all.
 
Cam cleared his throat. “Forget I said anything,” he grouched.
 
“I already have, darling,” Vala replied, then continued. “So, when handsome here”—Vala indicated Cam—“mentioned that our new Goa'uld friend belonged in a looney bin somewhere, I realized where I had heard the name Heronus before. He was one of the Goa'uld kept at the facility.”
 
“How many of these crazies are we talking here?” Jack spoke up. “Five, ten, a hundred?”
 
“I don't know, exactly.”
 
“Do you know where the facility is?” Sam spoke for the first time.
 
“No, I'm afraid not.”
 
“Well, that's helpful,” Jack said. “And we're supposed to believe you, why?”
 
Vala's eyes widened, but before she could say anything in her own defense, four other voices piped up: “Sir!” “General. . .” “Jack!” and finally, “O'Neill, if Vala Mal Doran says this facility exists, then I have no doubt that it exists.”
 
Jack looked at the irritated faces around the table and was forced to confront the fact, yet again, that in the past two years SG-1 had gone on without him. So, he had just insulted not a wacky alien who had several times almost gotten Daniel killed, which is how Jack continued to view her—despite his best efforts and despite the semi-truce they'd reached during the whole Ba'al fiasco—but their teammate in the fight against the Ori, with everything that word implied.
 
And to be fair, she did seem to really care about what happened to Daniel and the others.
 
He held up his hand in a placating gesture, admitting defeat. He saw Landry shake his head at him from the other end of the table in what he could swear was disappointment, and he grimaced in apology. Hank, after all, had approved Vala's inclusion in the SGC and on SG1, so he had just, for all intents and purposes, questioned his fellow general's judgment as well.
 
Before the awkward moment could be extended, Daniel—thank you, Daniel—spoke as if there had been no interruption at all.
 
“Vala, do you remember the names of any of the other “inmates?”
 
“A few. Would you like to hear them?
 
“Yes, please.”
 
“Uh, there was Serilipum, Hamsira, Attila, Casp. . . .”
 
“Whoa, there,” Cam interrupted. “Attila? As in Attila the Hun?”
 
Vala looked around the table and noticed that several of the others had sat up straighter at the reference. She sighed. These Tau'ri could be so self-involved sometimes.
 
“Yes, I believe so. Another one of yours, was he? Your history is riddled with minor Goa'uld, you know. Rasputin, maybe that Nero fellow. . . .”
 
“Really?” Daniel said. “Rasputin?”
 
“Well, think about it, darling. Manipulated the Czar into going off to war, so he could gain more influence over the Czarina, attracted to a sex cult, had magical healing powers, very hard to kill. I think I read one description, 'a mad glint in his eye.'” Vala paused and noticed the stares she was getting. “I do read you know. And I find your little Earth history to be fascinating at times.”
 
Sam spoke up then: “But aren't there records of his birth and early life? How could he be a Goa'uld if he aged?”
 
Daniel nodded, warming to the topic, “Yes, but if you look at photographs, he did not seem to age much as an adult, and he had a reputation for being extremely vigorous, for a lack of a better word. He also lived a fairly typical peasant life until he was in his late-20s, when he came into contact with some monks, and his life changed completely. If he was taken over by a Goa'uld after he reached adulthood, maybe at the monastery. . . .”
 
“And Vala Mal Doran is correct. He was very difficult to kill. I believe he was first poisoned and shot, yet he still remained strong enough to attack and almost kill one of his attackers, at which time he was shot again and clubbed, yet lived still. He was then thrown into an icy river and drowned. Or so the legend goes.”
 
This last came from Teal'c, who when he finished smiled broadly. Jack stared at him. “Et tu, Teal'c?” he said.
 
“Oh, wait, I know that one!” Vala was practically bouncing in her seat. “Julius Caesar, right? You think he might have been a Goa'uld as well?”
 
Landry shook his head. “O.K., people, enough. As fascinating as all this is, I think we've strayed from the point, unless, Ms. Mal Doran, you're saying that Rasputin was one of the inmates of this Goa'uld asylum?”
 
Vala had the grace to look slightly abashed. “No, General, I think you Tau'ri really killed that one.”
 
“But not Attila the Hun,” Jack said.
 
“No, if it's the same Attila, he was one of the favorite inmates.”
 
“There is a story of his death, though,” Daniel said, “and if I'm remembering correctly, it's not pretty. He got drunk on his wedding night, passed out, got a nosebleed and choked on his own blood.”
 
“Ew,” said Jack.
 
“Right, ew,” Daniel agreed, “and a pretty ignominious death for a warrior.”
 
“Perhaps he never died,” Teal'c suggested, “or had access to a sarcophagus.”
 
“Well if he was a Goa'uld,” Daniel said, “he didn't escape through the Giza Stargate. That was buried almost three thousand years before he appears in our history.”
 
“So he had a ship,” Sam said.
 
Daniel nodded. “If this is the same Attila, it raises some interesting questions. Here was a Goa'uld without his Jaffa army who managed to become a leader of one of the greatest and most feared human armies of the age. . . .”
 
“Maybe not a Goa'uld to take lightly,” Cam commented.
 
Landry cleared his throat. “So the question is, how do we proceed from here?”
 
Grogan spoke up for the first time. “Maybe Heronus's host will be able to tell us something. Or maybe the database Ba'al—Chenzira—left us can tell us exactly who we're dealing with and how many there are.”
 
“And where exactly the “asylum” is,” Sam added. “If the Goa'uld were performing experiments, who knows what we may find there.”
 
“And we need to apprise our off-world allies of the situation,” Teal'c reminded them.
 
Landry nodded. “I will have Walter notify all the proper governing bodies, and I'll have our people at Area 51 search Ba'al's database for any information pertaining to this asylum and its inmates. In addition, all SGC teams will actively seek intel on these Goa'uld in the course of their regular duties. Until we learn more, I don't see what else can be done. Agreed?” he asked, looking around the table.
 
“There is one more issue,” Daniel said, playing with his pen and avoiding eye contact with the rest of the table. “Vala, you said the System Lords would amuse themselves by putting the inmates in hosts, meaning they weren't normally in hosts?”
 
“No, at least at the time Qetesh entertained herself there, they were kept in a tank.”
 
Daniel nodded and looked up. “Which means that if they have escaped, it is likely that they have only just taken new hosts.”
 
“Aw, crap,” Jack said.
 
Teal'c nodded. “That may well explain why Heronus picked an elderly woman.”
 
“He had no choice,” Sam said. “He, and maybe the others, took the first opportunity that presented itself.”
 
“Brand-new victims,” Jack said. “I don't know why that seems worse, but it does.”
 
Kal'toc listened carefully. It made sense that the Tau'ri should be concerned for the human hosts, a subject he had never really considered before he started to work with them. He had always thought of the host and its Goa'uld parasite as part of one repulsive creature. But of course, any one of these humans at the table, any of his new teammates, were potential Goa'uld hosts, and the horror of that possibility struck him for the first time. He realized that Colonel Mitchell had not really been joking, for once, when he suggested that Heronus could be someone's “granny.”
 
Kal'toc overcame his nervousness at making his opinion known among the legendary beings around the table and said, “And if any other of these 'inmates' have escaped and were forced to use similar hosts, they will be attempting or will have already taken new, more acceptable hosts. Goa'uld do not tolerate less than perfection.”
 
“Even more victims,” Landry agreed, and Kal'toc, despite the grim subject, felt a small thrill of pride at the recognition.
 
“Have we heard from the Tok'ra about Heronus's extraction ceremony?” Jack said.
 
“That was the last order of business,” Landry said. “The Tok'ra have just requested the presence of Ms. Mal Doran and Dr. Jackson. When the host awoke briefly after the symbiote was removed, she spoke what they believe is Calonian, a language one of the Tok'ra recognized but does not speak. Am I correct that you both can communicate in that language?”
 
“Well enough to steal what I need, anyway,” Vala mumbled under her breath.
 
Cam let out a snort, and Sam smiled. As much as they would like to disapprove, Vala's days as a smuggler and thief were no secret, and the knowledge she had gained in those years had proved invaluable on a number of occasions.
 
Daniel just gave her a look and turned to the general. “Yes, both Vala and I speak some Calonian, Vala because she 'traded'—and here he made air quotes—with the Calonians. We've come across the language before ourselves, on the mission to. . . .”
 
Daniel was interrupted by Jack's very loud, theatrical sigh, and he stopped midsentence.
 
“So good to have you back, Jack, really,” he said, before turning to Landry again. “Yes, General, if the host speaks Calonian, Vala and I should be able to communicate with her.”
 
“Good,” Landry said. “Jack, if I have your permission to borrow Dr. Jackson”—Jack nodded and gave a wave of his hand—“I'd like the two of them to head for the Tok'ra base as soon as possible. Maybe the host can tell us what we need to know. SG-13, you're on downtime until Vala returns, which should be in plenty of time for your mission to PX3-J41. Is there anything else? Jack? No? Good. Dismissed.”
 
Landry rose and started for his office. He turned back toward Jack. “Oh, and Jack, you wanted to discuss allocation of teams for your trade mission with the Alakrions?”
 
Jack nodded. “I'll be right in, Hank.”
 
The various members of SG-1 and SG-13 also rose to leave. Jack stood with them and cleared his throat, causing everyone to turn and look at him expectantly.
 
Oh, he really hated this. He thought for the hundredth time what a lousy diplomat he made. He couldn't even bring himself to utter an apology.
 
When Jack remained silent for a beat too long, Sam said, “Sir?”
 
He shuffled a bit, then said, “Vala?”
 
Vala looked at him in surprise. Jack was conscious of Daniel's eyes on him, evaluating, and of Teal'c standing by calmly. Mitchell was looking at him tensely, as if ready to spring to Vala's defense. Why was it that he'd rather face a room full of System Lords than do what he was about to do?
 
“General?” Vala finally responded, a hint of defensiveness in her tone.
 
“I, uh, think . . . I owe you an . . . apology.” The room remained silent. Crap, wasn't that good enough? He thought he saw Carter hide a small smile, and he glared at her.
 
He took a deep breath and said, “I'm sorry for what I said. It was . . . out of line.”
 
There was still silence. Daniel, Teal'c and Sam continued to look at him expectantly. He couldn't read Vala's eyes. Mitchell was looking at Vala with raised eyebrows, waiting, Jack suspected, for her to accept the apology, and he knew that the leader of SG-13, at least, was not trying to mess with him. Grogan and Kal'toc had backed slowly out of the room, sensing that the scene was not meant for them, and he almost smiled at the look of discomfort on their faces.
 
All right, all right, he thought, and added, “And without the information you provided, we would have no idea that these wackos might be out there, so . . . thank you.” That last, he thought, was gratuitous—he was a general, for crying out loud; he didn't have to thank people for doing their jobs—but it did the trick. Daniel smiled and gave him a look that recognized how hard it had been for him to say the words, Sam hid another laugh and Teal'c was nodding sagely. He'd give his 2IC hell later for that barely suppressed smirk.
 
Jack heard Mitchell prompt, “Vala?” and he looked over at her. She looked back, stood up straighter, flung her long black hair over her shoulder with a move of her head and said, “Apology accepted, General,” then turned and walked from the room.
 
Cam gave him an apologetic look and went after his exasperating teammate, practically whining, “Vala,” and Kal'toc and Grogan trailed behind him.
 
Jack stood open-mouthed, watching her go. He snapped his mouth shut.
 
“That went well,” he said.
 
“You did the right thing, Jack,” Daniel said.
 
“Indeed,” Teal'c concurred.
 
“She sort of grows on you, Sir,” Sam added.
 
Jack stifled the retort on his tongue. He'd just dug himself out of one hole; why jump right into another?
 
“I'm sure she does,” he said. “I've got to talk to Landry. Teal'c, you want to join us?”
 
Teal'c nodded. He'd initiated the negotiations with the Alakrions on information provided by Master Bra'tac.
 
“Carter. Daniel,” Jack said.
 
Sam and Daniel turned to leave.
 
“And Daniel?” Jack added.
 
“I know, I know,” Daniel said, not even bothering to turn around as he and Sam left the room. “Don't trust the Tok'ra.”
 
 
************
 
 
Down the hall, Cam, conscious of Grogan and Kal'toc behind him, finally stopped, letting Vala go. “Good luck with the Tok'ra!” he shouted after her. She gave a backward flip of her hand and kept walking. Cam sighed, then turned to his other teammates. “O.K., you heard General Landry, we have some downtime while Vala's gone, so who's up for a team night? O'Malley's? Pizza and beer at my place?”
 
Grogan shifted a bit uncomfortably and said, “Sorry, Colonel, I already made plans for tonight.”
 
“Oh, c'mon, Grogan, what could be better than a team night?” Cam said. Grogan raised his eyebrows with some incredulity at that.
 
“Oh,” Cam said. “You have a date. . . .” Then he added cheerfully, “Well, who's the lucky girl?”
 
Grogan just looked at Cam, trying to read his team leader, then gave a little shrug. He suspected that his personal business might not stay personal for long if he shared it with the gregarious colonel.
 
Than Kal'toc took the decision out of his hands. “It is general knowledge that Captain Grogan has been mating with Melissa Gregorian in communications for some time now.”
 
Grogan's eyes widened. “Holy sh**, Kal'toc,” he said before he could stop himself, “watch what you're saying, will you?” Then, remembering that he stood in the halls of the SGC in front of his CO, he added, “Sorry, sir.”
 
Cam cleared his throat and tried very hard not to let any amusement show at the expressions of irritation and embarrassment on Grogan's face and the look of confusion on Kal'toc's as the young Jaffa tried, yet again, to figure out just which strange Tau'ri taboo he'd violated this time.
 
“Um, that's all right, Grogan,” he said. “No harm done. She seems like a very nice girl.” If it had been Jackson standing there, he would have added, “Have a very nice time . . . mating,” but he realized with some melancholy that it would be a while, if ever, before he could cross that line with his two new teammates. He was their CO, and there were just some things you didn't do. Thank God, he thought, for Vala.
 
Deciding not to let the uncomfortable silence that followed stretch any longer, he turned to Kal'toc and said, “O.K., Kal'toc, it looks as if it's just you and me!”
 
Cam, despite being a little hurt at the reaction, wished he had a camera for the look of panic that flitted across Kal'toc's face before he carefully schooled his features and said, “If that is your wish, Colonel Mitchell.”
 
He heard Grogan let out an exasperated breath behind him. “It wasn't an order, Kal'toc,” the young captain said.
 
Kal'toc said nothing, fearful of making another mistake and further annoying the sensitive Tau'ri men, and Grogan sighed again, as if taking on another burden. “Colonel,” Grogan said, “I believe Kal'toc was hoping to get permission to visit his family off-world before our mission to PX3-J41.”
 
Cam looked at Kal'toc, who nodded and said, finally, “Yes, Colonel Mitchell, I have not seen them for many weeks. However, if you would prefer. . . .”
 
“It's all right, Kal'toc,” Cam interrupted. “Your mother and your little brother, right? No problem. I'll clear it with Landry. Just be back at the SGC by 1900 Wednesday—the premission briefing's at 0600 Thursday.”
 
Yes, sir, Colonel Mitchell. Thank you, sir,” Kal'toc said. And at Mitchell's nod, Kal'toc started down the hall. As Grogan went to follow, Cam said, “Hold up, Captain.” Grogan stopped and eyed his CO warily. “Yes, sir?”
 
“Back there on the Helaskins' planet when I waited for you to question my orders—I pissed you off, didn't I?”
 
Grogan cleared his throat, and Cam watched him consider his possible answers, finally settling on the safest. “Sir?” Grogan said.
 
“I need you to know, it wasn't about you, Grogan; it was about Kal'toc,” Cam said.
 
Grogan squinted at his CO. “Sir?” he said again.
 
“Think about it, Grogan,” Cam persisted. “Kal'toc's got a lot on the ball, but the way these young Jaffa were trained when they served the Goa'uld, if a superior officer told them to jump in front of a runaway train to stop it, they would. I wanted him to see a different way.”
 
“You wanted him to see me question your orders . . . and then tell him why I did,” Grogan said, failing to entirely hide his disbelief.
 
“Now you're getting it,” Cam said, ignoring the captain's tone. “I knew he would ask, and I knew you'd explain it. I've watched you with Kal'toc, Grogan. You're doing a damn fine job with him. In fact, I can't think of anyone on base who could do better.”
 
Grogan, still trying to figure out how his CO could know that the whole charade would lead to his talk with Kal'toc, was taken aback by the unexpected praise. He looked sharply at Mitchell, wondering if the man was being sarcastic, but his expression seemed sincere enough.
 
“Thank you, sir,” he finally said. “Kaltoc's a good man.”
 
Cam smiled. “Yes he is, Captain. . . . So, we good?”
 
Grogan couldn't help but smile back. The SOB had still messed with him, but maybe it wasn't as bad as he'd thought. “Yes, sir, Colonel, we're good.”
 
“All right, then,” Cam said, dismissing his 2IC. “You sure you don't want to grab a beer? No, no, never mind. Forget I asked. See you back here in a couple of days.”
 
“Yes, sir,” Grogan said, and before he could be called back again, he headed down the hall after Kal'toc.
 
Cam sighed as he watched Grogan go, suddenly feeling at a loss. So much for team night. He wasn't sure what he expected. His new guys were working out, but they weren't SG-1. He shrugged and turned in the other direction, contemplating a lonely night in front of the television. Then he saw Sam coming his way, and his countenance brightened.
 
“Sam!” he said. “How about we. . . .”
 
“Sorry, Cam,” Sam smiled sympathetically, “I've got to. . . .” She stopped at her friend's hangdog expression. “All right,” she said.
 
“All right?” Cam said. “Do you even know what I was going to say?”
 
Sam grinned. “You, me and Teal'c, O'Malley's, 20-hundred.”
 
“Excellent,” Cam said. Too bad Vala and Daniel will be off-world.”
 
Sam's expression faltered a little. “I don't envy them that trip.”
 
“Yeah,” Cam agreed. “I don't think they'll be having much fun in Tok'ra land.”
 
 
 
************
 
 
 
Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, then turned to look at Vala, who was staring at the older woman, trying to formulate a response. The small woman, gray hair pulled neatly back and dressed in the brown Tok'ra robes, leaned forward, eyes dancing desperately from Daniel to Vala and back again.
 
The Tok'ra had told them that the woman had been nearly hysterical when she awoke after Heronus was removed and had screamed every time one of them came near her. They knew she could sense their symbiotes and realized she thought they were Goa'uld, but they had been unable to explain to her who they were or to comfort her. Her time as host had been of such a short duration that she still spoke no language other than Calonian. They'd placed her in the bland, gray room they were in now, containing a small bed against one wall and a table and chairs, and had given her some food, a basin to clean in and a robe. Then they'd left her alone. They had discovered nothing about her but her name: Belita Aniksota.
 
“Please,” the woman begged them now, “why don't you speak? They're only babies! You say you are the Tau'ri. You must save them!”
 
Daniel took a deep breath. “They took your children as hosts,” he said, hoping he had misunderstood.
 
“My grandchildren, my grandchildren,” the woman replied. “My daughter and her husband are dead. They killed my husband and took my grandchildren and our crewman, Ren. Please, you are wasting time! You must help me!” she said, ending in almost a wail.
 
“How old are the children?” Vala said quietly.
 
“Hentik, the eldest is sixteen; then there's Simis. He just turned thirteen, and. . . . Oh, gods, we never should have brought her with us, but she begged and begged, and we thought she'd be safe on the ship. It was just a simple recon. . . .” Belita's voice had become barely more than a whisper, and she started to cry again. “My little cherished one, my little Palita. She's only seven. Oh, gods, please, please, you must save her, you must save all my babies!”
 
Seven? Oh, god, Daniel thought, was that even possible? To think of a Goa'uld entering such a small child. . . . He knew better than anyone how afraid and alone a small child could be, and to have one of those monsters inside her. . . . Daniel felt his gorge rising but forced it back. He turned to Vala and she stared back at him, her eyes like deep pools of black ink, mirroring the horror that he felt. Belita continued to weep, and he started to rise to go to her, but Vala touched his arm and rose instead, walking over to the distraught grandmother and wrapping her arms awkwardly around her.
 
“We'll do what we can. I promise, we will do whatever we can,” she soothed, and the woman collapsed against her chest, great sobs escaping her. Vala looked back at Daniel over Belita's head, and he knew she was thinking what he was: The chances of finding those children, especially the younger ones, still alive were slim to none.
 
The woman gradually stopped crying and pushed herself away from Vala. “I'm sorry,” she said. “This isn't helping. I will mourn later. Now, I need to know how you can save my grandchildren and Ren Starat.”
 
“If you think you could tell us what happened, everything you know. . . .”
 
Before Daniel finished, the woman started to talk: “Yes, I'll tell you everything, if you can help me. I'll tell you everything. My husband and I are . . . were . . . traders. We find abandoned technology, supplies, whatever is out there, and resell it. When my daughter and her husband died in the Alrian plague five years ago, we took in our grandchildren. The boys started to travel with us when they were twelve, helping in any way they could. Palita was lonely and begged us to bring her along this time, and just this once we agreed, the gods help us. We thought it was safe enough. The Lucian Alliance leaves us alone as long as we pay our percentage and give the bigger finds to them; we hadn't had any trouble from anyone for years, so we thought . . . we thought, What could it hurt?” Belita closed her eyes and took a deep breath before she continued.
 
“One of our contacts told us of an abandoned Goa'uld station, and we were going only to scout it out, and see if there was anything below the notice of the Alliance that we could use. It was little more than a day's journey. It was a space station orbiting one of the moons of a dwarf planet in the Solonius system. We docked with no problem; the life support on the station was still working. I stayed on the ship with Palita, and Rols, my husband Rols. . . .” Belita took another shuddering breath. “We were married for almost forty years,” she said, quietly. “We were barely more than children ourselves when we married. How can he be gone?”
 
Belita stared past them, unseeing for a moment. “He was so handsome, so full of life. I thought he was making fun of me when he came up to me while I was with my friends and said that I would be the one, someday, that he would bond with. But he wasn't making fun. He saw something in me, in us. . . .”
 
Finally she shook herself out of the memory. “I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I still can't seem to believe what has happened.”
 
“It's all right, Belita,” Daniel said. “Take your time.”
 
“Yes,” Vala agreed. “We aren't going anywhere.”
 
“But there is no time,” Belita said in almost a whisper. She straightened out again and looked at them. “Rols and Ren, who has worked with us for seven years, although he's barely more than a boy himself, took the boys aboard. They weren't even gone a quarter hour when Simis came running back, saying, 'Grandmama, Palita, you must see this! Grandfather says to come!' He seemed just like himself. I didn't realize. . . . We followed Simis into a large room, and the first thing I noticed was the tank. There were three Goa'uld symbiotes swimming inside, and I saw others on the floor, looking as if they had been ripped to pieces. I screamed for Simis to get away from the tank and started to pull Palita away, but then Hentik grabbed me from behind and spoke in that evil Goa'uld voice, 'I am sorry. We need you too.' He grabbed me and started dragging me to the tank, and I saw that Ren had picked up Palita and was carrying her across the room. I screamed and screamed for them to let Palita go, and I cried for Rols to come. Then Simis, no longer speaking in his own voice, my brave little man, he picked up something from the corner and held it up and said, 'Poppy won't be coming home anymore, grandmama.' Gods save us, he held his grandfather's head in his hands. . . .”
 
Belita's eyes were wide as she relived the horror of that moment, and this time Daniel rose to go to her. “Belita,” he said, “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry.”
 
Belita held up her hand to stop him. “No,” she said hoarsely, “I will finish. They dragged us to the tank, and one of those things, Heronus”—and here Belita's voice filled with disgust—“jumped from the tank and pierced my neck, and there was a horrible pain, and I heard Palita shrieking, 'Grandmama, Grandmama!' and saw her twisting and turning on the ground, convulsing. I tried to go to her, but then that thing was in my mind, controlling me, and I couldn't save Palita. I couldn't save anyone.”
 
“You couldn't have known, Belita,” Vala soothed. “We know you thought it was safe.”
 
“Well it wasn't,” Belita said harshly, the guilt and pain twisting her voice. “We were careless, and our grandchildren and Ren have paid the price! To think that they are suffering what I did or worse, that one of them may have been forced to kill his own grandfather! The horror I saw in Heronus's mind, the evil he'd committed before they locked him in that place, the evil he wanted to commit . . . the evil that was done to him. . . .”
 
The woman's breathing became harsh and her eyes widened; she pushed herself back on the bed as if trying to escape from some terrifying creature only she could see. “No, no, please,” she whispered. “NO!” she screamed.
 
Daniel jumped from his chair and took both of her shoulders in his hands, and she screamed again and struggled, looking right past him. “Belita!” he said. “Belita,” he said again firmly but more gently. “It's Heronus's memory, not yours! Can you hear me, Belita? You're safe. You're safe, Belita!”
 
Belita's eyes flickered, then focused on Daniel's. She looked around wildly, then back at Daniel and then to Vala. Daniel glanced at Vala also and saw that she was sitting straight up, mouth open a little as if she too were locked in a nightmare of a memory. “Vala?” Daniel said. “Vala, are you. . . ?”
 
Vala blinked and looked at Daniel then, and he watched her put that mask over her face she used when she was hurting and pretending not to. “I'm fine, Daniel,” she said. “Don't worry about me.”
 
He felt Belita shift under his hands, and he saw that she was looking at him again, confusion in her eyes. She raised her shaking hands to his arms. “What was that?” she said weakly. “What just happened?”
 
“I'm sorry, Belita. You were reliving a memory that wasn't yours. The Goa'uld. . . .”
 
“Heronus? I thought,” the gray-haired woman stuttered, “I thought he was gone. How could . . . why . . . ? It was terrible. They, the System Lords, they put Heronus in a host, tied him down and allowed another Goa'uld to do horrible, horrible things. It lasted for days. Oh, gods. . . .”
 
Her eyes widened again, and Daniel thought she was about to have another flashback, but she said, “Oh, gods, the other Goa'uld, it was Serilipum, he was even madder and crueler than the others, he . . . oh my gods.”
 
“What is it, Belita?” Vala asked. “What do you remember? Is Serilipum one of the Goa'uld who escaped?”
 
“He's in Simis,” she whispered, terror in her eyes. “I can remember what Heronus knew. I can't. . . . Attila took Hentik, and that monster Serilipum took Simis. My sweet boy Simis.”
 
Belita released her hold on Daniel, and pushed herself back up against the wall, then curled in on herself. “And Kauket has Palita. Oh, gods,” she whispered again. “What have we done?”

Part 3

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