“When the Opticians learned that the Bedrosians had found the gate, they stepped up the war effort. Bedrosia was conquered and the Optricans took over their territory, establishing their belief system and exiling all those who refused to convert. They took over the capital and set up the gate as a reminder to the Bedrosians of the truth of their new faith and an open invitation for their gods to return.”
He paused, and Jack wondered whether it was for effect or just for breath.
“Two years ago,” Daniel resumed, “at the height of the Ori incursion into our galaxy, a Prior came through that gate.” He paused again, allowing the murmurs of surprise to subside before continuing. “The Optricans had never met their gods, so when the Prior claimed to represent powerful beings, the Optricans concluded that the Ori were the gods they’d been waiting for and readily agreed to worship them.”
“Well,” Vala piped in, tossing him a sympathetic look, “at least the people were spared the plague and all the other persuasive tricks the Priors were so fond of pulling out of their collective hat.”
Flashing an approving grin at Vala’s correct use of the Earth metaphor, Daniel tipped his head in agreement. “Yes, at least there is that. The transition had very little effect on the populace; they’d already chosen to worship the Optrican gods.” He cut himself off with a disdainful snort, his gaze falling to his hands, folded loosely on the table. “If only the Optricans hadn’t chosen the Ori,” he sighed.
“You think they’d have been better off with the Goa’uld?” Jack asked.
Daniel glanced up and offered a faint smile of thanks for the attempt to put things in perspective. “Probably not,” he conceded.
Teal’c’s strong bass cut into their moment. “What has transpired, Daniel Jackson?”
“After we unleashed the power of the Ark, that same Prior came back and told the people that he had been wrong, that the Ori are not gods, but malevolent beings who use their followers to further their evil purposes.
“Unfortunately, no one in the Optrican government had a good response to the angry questions and accusations that followed. The Optrican officials maintain their gods are still out there, but the citizens, made up mostly of former Bedrosians, aren’t buying it any more. As you can imagine, they’re not so eager to follow these leaders who apparently can’t even recognize the gods they’re insisting everyone worship.
“The Optricans might have gotten a handle on things, if not for a group of dissidents, who took advantage of the discontent and, at a public gathering, incited the citizens to riot. In the aftermath, no one knew where to turn or who to trust. These rebels continue to create chaos and now the Optricans need our help stabilizing their society while they figure out where to go from here.”
“It is a good idea to get involved with these people again?” Jack argued. “They don’t exactly have the best record when it comes to hospitality.”
“The previous regime has been usurped,” Daniel countered. “The Bedrosian military no longer exists.” He pushed his copies of the MALP’s images in front of Jack. “The MALP shows widespread damage to their city. We can’t just ignore their plea for help.”
“We can if we’re not convinced they’re being straight with us. Maybe they’re just trying to lure us back there for a second round of abuse?”
Daniel huffed, exasperated. “For what purpose, revenge? They had that opportunity when they planned their attack on Earth.”
Jack speared him with an incredulous glare. “I’m sorry. Their plan to do what?”
Daniel winced faintly, and Jack suspected Daniel hadn’t planned to share that bit of information. “The prior ordered them to prepare for an attack against Earth. But they scrapped that idea once the prior exposed the Ori.”
“You’re sure about that?”
“If the Optricans intended to follow through with the attack, they would never have told us about it.”
Dubious, Jack grunted. “What kind of help are you thinking to provide?” he asked Landry.
“Humanitarian aid. Food, medical supplies, temporary shelters, if they need them.”
“Somehow, I don’t think temporary shelters will be a problem,” Jack winced. “The Bedrosian military had more tents than Barnum and Bailey.”
Daniel eyed him and frowned, but refrained from commenting on the assessment.
“Who is the current ruling authority on P2X-416?” Teal’c asked.
“The Triumvirate – the Ruling Council of Three,” Daniel replied. He paused and locked his gaze squarely with Jack’s. “SG-13 is going to meet with them on Optrica Prime, along with an engineering team who will help assess the damage to their buildings. Nyan has asked to go and I want to accompany him.”
Daniel sat back, planting his elbows on the arms of his chair. An expectant silence fell over the room.
Jack watched as Daniel steepled his fingers before him, the index fingers pressed together with enough force to whiten the tips, while he waited for his team leader’s reply.
“Wow,” Jack finally said. “You really think that was short, huh?”
Daniel rolled his eyes and Jack allowed himself just a moment of satisfaction before putting on his ‘let’s remember who’s in charge’ face. He waggled his index finger in Daniel’s direction. “You do remember we’re scheduled to begin treaty talks with those sun guys.”
“The Solarjai,” Daniel corrected, his mouth pushing out in a disapproving pucker. “Yes, of course I remember, but the only issue to be negotiated is the exchange of weapons technology, something you and Sam are more than qualified to discuss. You can get by just fine without me.”
“We’re gonna need a linguist,” Jack automatically protested.
“No, you won’t. Daniel disputed. “Solarjai’s ambassadorial staff speak perfectly passable English. Remember, that’s why we’ve been going back and forth for the last seven months: to work with them on their English. But, if you’re really afraid you can’t handle it, take Doctor Tomasi. She’s been conducting the English classes and has become fairly fluent in Solarjaian. Besides,” he grinned, “if things work out, Optrica could become an ally. You were pretty impressed by those shuttles. I would venture to guess their level of technology still rivals anything we have here.”
“First contact is an SGC function,” Jack snapped, seriously irked that Daniel had apparently planned his argument well in advance. “You work for Homeworld Security now.”
“It’s not first contact,” Daniel parried, “it’s follow up.” Cutting himself off almost before he’d completed the point, Daniel blew out an impatient huff. “Jack, it was our arrival on Bedrosia that caused Nyan to lose his home. I’d like to be with him when he goes back there for the first time.”
Damn it, Jack growled internally, I can’t believe he’s played the guilt card already. He knows I find it almost impossible to counter that move. The wind temporarily taken out of his argument, Jack narrowed his eyes at Daniel, hoping to wear him down with a little nonverbal intimidation while he regrouped.
He tipped his mouth in a hard quirk, the gesture equal parts admiration and annoyance. No one knew better than he the devotion Daniel had for his friends.
From the very beginning, Daniel had demonstrated his willingness to do anything for those he took a shine to, including intercept a fatal staff blast. Over the years he’d challenged the military powers that be, more than once taking on a none-too-pleased Hammond when the welfare of his team was in jeopardy. Hell, he’d even come back from the dead, sort of, blowing off his glowy new friends to help Jack escape Ba’al’s prison. Jack understood his friend’s motivation.
Still, he couldn’t make it too easy for Daniel to get his way. “What if the Solar Guys won’t complete the deal without you? Do you really think –”
“Nyan has a sister.”
That softly spoken declaration squashed the remainder of Jack’s argument like a juicy bug against the windshield of a fast moving car. Family. Daniel had upped the ante with family, the one thing he knew meant more to Jack than protocol.
“If she’s still alive,” Daniel continued, “I’ll leave Nyan to spend time with her. If… if we don’t find her, I’ll escort him back to Earth. In either event, I should be able to join you on Solarjaia before the talks are concluded.”
Knowing he was about to give in and not liking it one bit, Jack turned his ire on Mitchell. “Okay, you led his team for three years, so I guess I don’t have to tell to keep an eye on him.”
“Jack.”
Absently lifting a finger to forestall Daniel’s intended objection, Jack waited for Mitchell’s compliant acknowledgement. To his displeasure, the colonel’s features screwed up a bit and he pushed his shoulders into his seatback. Folding his hands neatly on the table before him, Mitchell steadily held his superior’s steely gaze.
“With all due respect, General,” Mitchell boldly ventured, “I don’t think you’re being fair to Doctor Jackson. I’ve read all of SG-1’s mission reports, so I know he had a pattern of getting into trouble when SG-1 was first formed. But I think that was more a product of his civilian naiveté. He’s been with the program for a number of years now, and I’ve seen first hand that he is a competent SG team member. I believe him to be quite capable of taking care of himself.”
“Uh huh,” Jack grunted, unconvinced. “Weren’t you with him when he stuck his head in Merlin’s Ancient headsucker and ultimately got himself turned into a Prior of the Ori?”
Mitchell wilted and threw a glance at Daniel that looked suspiciously like ‘I told you so’ before dutifully replying, “I won’t let him out of my sight, sir.”
Nodding satisfaction, Jack pointedly ignored the glare Daniel aimed at him and looked to Landry, effectively turning the briefing back over to the SGC chief.
Substantial brows executing a mirthful waggle, Landry flashed his HWS counterpart a knowing smile. “Jack, SG-1 gates out to your treaty talks at 1030 hours. And Colonel Mitchell, I believe you’ll find Major Holden down in supply organizing the materials the engineers will need for their assessment. Coordinate with him and have your teams ready to go at 1100.”
“Yes, sir.”
Landry bobbed his head in approval. “Anything else we need to discuss?”
Jack chanced a glance at Daniel, who shifted in his chair and crossed his arms over his midsection. One eyebrow lifted in a formidable arc, the eyes below narrowing just a hair. His mouth, so adept at spouting facts and advice and wrapping effortlessly around alien languages, hardened, his lips compressed so tightly together Jack suspected it would take a crowbar to get any words past them at that moment. But then, Daniel didn’t need words to get his message across. He was quite good at non-verbal communication, too. Everything about him right now said, ‘We are so gonna talk.’
“Okay then,” Landry said on the edge of Jack’s attention, “you’re all dismissed. Good luck on your missions.”
Standing, Daniel turned and leaned around Jack to address his teammates. “Sam, Teal’c, I’ll see you guys in the gateroom just before you gate out.”
Carter’s blonde locks moved into the periphery of his vision, and Jack skirted his chair, sliding out of the line of their conversation.
“Sorry you’re not coming with us, Daniel,” Carter said. “I understand, though, why you feel you have to go with Nyan.”
“Thanks, Sam.”
Canting his head in admiration, Teal’c added, “It is my hope that your search for Nyan’s sister meets with instant success.”
“Mine, too,” Daniel said, mirroring the bow. “I’ll see you downstairs.”
Feeling like one of the ugly stepsisters at Cinderella’s wedding reception, and vaguely suspicious that Daniel had orchestrated this little SG-1 love-fest for his benefit, Jack called after Carter and Teal’c as they followed SG-13 to the stairwell, “I’ll meet you in the gear up room in half an hour.”
He spun towards Daniel, who shot off a curt, “Your office or mine?” and turned towards the exit.
“Hang on.” Jack snagged an elbow, halting Daniel’s forward motion. Exerting enough pressure to rotate the younger man back towards him, Jack scowled at the brow that once again rose to challenge him. “I don’t know what you’re so mad about. You won.”
Darting a glance over his shoulder to Vala, who dallied at the top of the stairs, Daniel gently extricated himself from Jack’s grip. “Can we not do this here?”
“Sure. We could just go to the mess and grab some coffee. Have you had breakfast?”
“Yes, mom,” Daniel snapped under his breath, his small grimace showing he instantly regretted the snipe. Pulling a slow breath, he said more calmly, “I ate with Mitchell early this morning, but coffee would be good.”
Jack stepped back and gestured to the doorway. “After you.”
Daniel retrieved his notebook, waved a quick “Later,” to Vala, and preceded Jack from the room.
Neither of them said any more, even after they’d stepped on the elevator. The trip to level 22 seemed interminable, and Jack had to fight the urge to fill the awkward silence with some banality.
The aromas of coffee and bacon rushed in at them as soon as the doors opened again. Jack glanced sidelong at his companion. “You gotta admit the smells that greet you when the elevator opens on this floor are much better than those on level 25.”
Daniel forced a grin. “Any particular reason you chose the infirmary for your little comparison?” He got off the elevator, heading in a determined march for the main commissary.
Detecting a fair amount of chill in Daniel’s wake and genuinely dumbfounded by it, Jack hurried after him. “I just really find disinfectant a little nauseating,” he replied.
Daniel slowed then shuffled to a halt. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he loosed a whispering sigh. “I’m sorry,” he offered sincerely. “I thought that was some veiled reference to the amount of time you’ve spent sitting at my bedside while I recovered from one mishap or another.”
Jack shrugged. “Hey, I figure you’ve spent as much time next to my bed as I have yours.”
Somewhat surprised at the confession, Daniel nodded agreement.
“How about that coffee,” Jack prompted, taking a few steps towards the commissary. “I’m buying.”
Daniel’s mouth twitched in a quick-flash smile and he moved in beside his friend.
They made it quickly through the serving line. Jack snagged some just-baked apple pie to go with his coffee and they settled at a table out of earshot of the few personnel eating a late breakfast.
While Jack shoveled in his first bite of pie, Daniel stirred his coffee with just a bit too much force.
“I can’t believe we’re having this discussion again,” he suddenly grumbled. Snatching the spoon from his cup, he dropped it on a napkin, sending a few droplets of liquid to Jack’s side of the table.
Jack swallowed his mouthful and picked up his cup, absently dragging his napkin through Daniel’s mess with his free hand. “Me neither,” he said after a sip. “I thought we had hashed all this out back when we dealt with Ba’al… or whatever he’s calling himself these days.”
“Then why the babysitting notes for Mitchell?”
If the vigorous stirring and coffee shower weren’t enough of a clue, the open resentment in Daniel’s tone left no doubt that the man was unhappy with what he probably considered Jack’s interference.
Returning his cup to the table with deliberate calm, Jack met the angry blue eyes evenly.
“Daniel, I’m always going to be overly cautious when it comes to my team. It’s my job to bring you guys home safe and I just can’t completely trust anyone else to do that. I’d have given Mitchell the same warning if he were taking Carter or Teal’c.”
“Really? Somehow I doubt that.”
Jack shrugged. “Talk to Colonel Ronson. Ask him about our chat the night before Carter traipsed off with him to check out that little nebula she was so fascinated with.”
“You trusted Mitchell to watch my six during the time he led SG-1.”
“That’s because he had Carter and Teal’c to back him up. You’re going off on your own this time.”
“What about Vala? She’s far more solicitous of my welfare than you ever were.”
“Yeah, well, call me a cynic, but I think Vala’s concern has more to do with wanting to keep you around long enough to convince you to marry her.”
“Let’s not go there.”
“Hey, you brought her up. But, while we’re on the topic of how alien women can’t seem to get enough of you,” Jack sidetracked, tinting the statement with enough levity to hopefully disengage Daniel’s sour disposition. “Desirata is gonna be awfully disappointed that you blew her off for this relief mission. I think she has a thing for you, too.”
Daniel produced a humorless smile. “I’m sure you’ll explain the situation to her satisfaction.”
So much for lightening the mood. “Look, Daniel, I understand why you want to go. You’re feeling guilty–”
“Bedrosia’s defeat was a direct result of our appearance on their planet. This is just like what happened on Tegalas.”
“No, it’s not. The folks on Nyan’s planet had been going at it long before we showed up. The outcome might have been the same whether we came through the gate or not.”
Clearly unconvinced, Daniel slumped against the table, shaking his head.
Puffing out a short burst of breath, Jack recognized it was time to change tactics. He had been arguing with his friend for enough years to know that he could never win a purely emotional fight. But, like any good chess player, Jack had a reserve strategy, one guaranteed to force Daniel’s brain to override his passion. It wasn’t something he particularly liked doing, mostly because there was always the danger Daniel would take this new game plan and run with it – and if that happened, Jack didn’t have a hope of keeping up. Still, it appeared this situation called for the big guns. He was gonna have to resort to logic.
“Daniel, think about it,” he said, trotting out his reasonable tone. “If the Bedrosians had still been in charge when the Prior came through the gate, he would have pulled out his nasty little bag of tricks. Most of them would be dead now and the others would be no better than slaves to the Ori. You think that’s a better outcome?”
Daniel looked up sharply. His gaze wandered to a place just over Jack’s right ear, his eyes quickly tracking right then left a few times.
Absurdly, Jack wondered if his question had suddenly appeared in a dialogue balloon, conveniently placed for Daniel’s review. Resisting the urge to look over his shoulder, he kept his eyes on his friend’s impassioned features. It took only a few seconds – Daniel’s frown came and went in a flash – and the fire fueled by his emotions dimmed, Jack’s rationale serving admirably as a verbal damper.
Daniel squirmed upright and met Jack’s gaze. “Well, if the Bedrosians were still in control, the gate would have been in storage,” he had to argue, “but I get your point. The Priors would likely have come in ships, and they would not have been as… patient with the Bedrosians as they were with the Optricans. ”
“Exactly.” Jack couldn’t help but beam, proud that he’d once again outmaneuvered his Mensa-qualified genius. He didn’t have long to enjoy the victory though, as talk of the Bedrosians’ handling of the Stargate brought up another problem.
“Look,” he said. “I didn’t ask because I’m not exactly sure I want to know…”
“Rigar?”
“Yeah. What do we know of his whereabouts?”
Pushing his coffee cup away, Daniel sat back with a groan. “When the Optricans took over Bedrosia, all those who refused to accept their beliefs were exiled to an island off the coast of their former territory. According to Parey, all forms of technology including shuttlecraft and other means of transportation were removed. She’s confirmed that Rigar was exiled with the others but the Optrican’s haven’t spent any effort keeping track of them.” He shrugged vaguely. “It’s been seven years since he was last heard from. As far as we know, Rigar could be dead.”
“As far as we know,” Jack parroted. “How many times has that particular phrase come back to bite us in the ass? You do remember what happened the last time we encountered that maniac?”
“Yes, Jack,” Daniel replied with forced patience. “There’s something about spending long periods of time in a small electrified cage that tends to stick with a person.”
Jack watched him a moment, noting his tense posture. “You sure you want to do this? The last visit gave you some pretty significant nightmares.”
Daniel smiled grimly. “Those mostly involved watching you being zatted and nearly electrocuted to death.”
“Daniel.” The utterance held both caution against self-blame and absolution for all imagined offenses.
“Jack, whether Rigar’s alive or not, these people need our help. Not to mention the fact that, if we make a favorable impression, we just might turn a former enemy into an ally. Isn’t that part my job at Home World Security?”
Jack snorted, irritated that Daniel was trying to legitimize what they both knew was a purely personal mission. “Unless we find out the Optricans are just as unstable as the Bedrosians. Personally, I’m still not inclined to trust them too far.”
“You know General Landry would not be sending teams if he thought the situation was any more dangerous than what we encounter every time we go through the gate.”
“As if that’s not dangerous enough,” Jack felt compelled to drop in.
“We all know of the potential threat, Jack,” Daniel moved hurriedly on. “We’re going to take precautions.”
And here they were back to square one. Jack had two choices, neither of which appealed to him. He could start the argument all over again or disregard his mother hen instincts and hope for the best.
Discarding the first option outright, still he couldn’t completely let go. He leaned across the table, practically boring holes through Daniel’s skull with the intensity of his glare. “You keep your eyes open,” he commanded, poking a finger for emphasis, “and you do what Mitchell tells you. Clear?”
Daniel produced a genuine smile. “I’ll miss you too, Jack. Thanks.”
As they rose in sync from their seats, Jack’s answering smile came nowhere near his eyes. “See you in a day or so.”
*****
Daniel exited the wormhole with a hop, Vala’s too aggressive questioning chasing him across the galaxy. A strong light met his retinas with the force of a physical blow and Daniel turned his head, lifting an arm to shield his eyes.
Vala emerged nearly on top of him, the tail end of her interrogation sounding close enough to his ear he felt the breath that expelled it.
“… mean when he said he’d give your love to Desirata? That sounded personal to me.”
Her usual cocky stroll carried her a step or two beyond the gate before she lurched to a stop. She turned, the silent ‘Oh’ on her lips the first indication she’d noticed anything amiss.
Daniel peered through barely slitted eyes, confirming that, like him, Nyan and the members of SGs 8 and 13 had stopped and turned away from the glare. Sliding his watery gaze to Vala, he chuffed an ironic snort. On the other side of the gate, Vala had been brandishing her new solar block sunglasses at him to emphasize her displeasure over the implications of Jack’s ill-timed jibe. Lost in her tirade, she’d absently slammed them on her face just before entering the wormhole.
“What’s wrong?” Vala whispered.
The glasses apparently lived up to their reputation. Vala seemed almost unaffected by the intensity of the room’s illumination. She cast the others a cursory glance before turning her attention to Daniel.
“It’s just a bit bright,” he complained.
“My apologies,” a voice called out of the radiance. “Kale, redirect the luminance.”
Almost immediately the light dimmed. Peering cautiously from behind his hand, Daniel blinked away the sparkling remnants the glare left on his eyes.
Now that he was actually able to see more, Daniel took a moment to look around. Mitchell and the other SG personnel seemed none the worse for having basically walked into a spotlight. Seeking the source of their discomfort, he discovered twin narrow towers, one on either side of the gate, into which were fitted a dozen or so squares of a highly reflective material. At the moment, those squares angled their mirrored light towards the top of the Stargate. Following the elongated beams to their apex, he squinted against the original source of the illumination: this planet’s sun, which slanted through an opening in the high ceiling.
Well, that explains why the Triumvirs all looked washed out.
Daniel redirected his attention to the young woman marching their way. There was no clear indication of rank, but based on her formal carriage, the severity of her expression and the style of her dusky brown uniform, Daniel judged her to be an officer in the Optrican military.
She stamped purposefully to a halt before them. “Please forgive the oversight,” she entreated, her odd little bark transforming the plea to more of a command. “As long as the Gateway remains indoors, it must be bathed in pure light, as near as we can manage to that produced by the sun that rises each day from Nefertum’s blossom. The only other visitor to come through the Gateway since it was moved indoors was the Prior and he seemed unbothered by its brightness.”
“Well, sure, he had cataracts as thick as quarters,” Vala muttered breathily, “even after the transition to good guy.”
“Shh,” Daniel hissed automatically. Turning on a smile, he inclined his head to their greeter. “I’m Doctor Daniel Jackson.”
“Astrid,” the officer returned. “You may carry your weapons in the hall, but you must leave them outside the council room. The Triumvirate is waiting for you there.” Having made it through the pleasantries, she whirled with the grace typical of a well-trained soldier and headed for the exit behind her.
Mitchell pushed by, taking the lead down the small platform. Kal’toc, Vala and Grogan naturally fell into step behind him.
“Is it alright if we leave the engineering equipment here until after we’ve met with your leaders?” Mitchell called after the woman.
Daniel gestured the members of SG-8 ahead of him, taking advantage of the short wait to check out their surroundings. In addition to the DHD and vertical mirrors, a bank of consoles with embedded monitors lined the smooth granite-like wall to his right – their communications instruments, he guessed.
Turning, Daniel caught a glimpse of the MALP that had preceded them through the gate to this world all those years ago, and paused to admire it. Like a faithful old dog waiting for its master to return from a long journey, the MALP sat facing the gate, the forward claw on its long arm thrust forward in a mechanical version of anticipation.
The image created in his mind made Daniel grin, until his view of the MALP was eclipsed by the stern visage of SG-13’s team leader.
“Jackson, what do you think you’re doing?” Mitchell reprimanded softly, ascending to the platform in front of Daniel. “I told General O’Neill I wouldn’t take my eyes off you. How am I supposed to do that with you thirty feet behind me?”
Daniel held the other man’s flinty gaze. “You weren’t serious.”
“As a heart attack,” Mitchell countered. “Which will likely be my cause of death if you get yourself hurt or killed on this mission. And if that doesn’t do it, General O’Neill will surely finish me off.
“Jack’s being ridiculously overprotective,” Daniel laughed. “I don’t need –”
“You’re getting a shadow this trip,” Mitchell concluded, his tone brooking no further argument. “Now, do you want me, or should I assign Vala?”
Unable to help himself, Daniel followed the thumb Mitchell jerked over his shoulder. Across the room, where their escort and the rest of their party fanned out before the exit, Vala watched them, head cocked in a blatant attempt to pick up on their conversation. Her arms were casually crossed before her, P-90 dangling loosely from her grip, but she nervously surged up on her toes a time or two, clearly considering making the trek to their location to find out what the hold up was.
Daniel blew out an irritated sigh. “Well, come on then,” he said, jerking his head towards the waiting group.
They joined the line of people moving through the door and Daniel immediately cast his eyes about as they came out the other side. Approximately ten feet apart and sweeping to twice that above them, the well-lit walls of the hallway consisted of interlocking panels of the same rock as the gate room, some a plain eggshell color, others featuring a pale blue lotus motif – the symbol for Nefertum. Unable to tell right away whether the emblems were chiseled into the stone or merely painted in bas relief, Daniel wandered towards the far wall. He got close enough to satisfy his curiosity before Mitchell barked a sharp cough, urging him to keep moving.
As they made their way quickly through the building, taking several turns where hallways intersected, Daniel was disappointed to find all the doors they passed were closed. He glanced upward once, confirming his suspicion that the bright illumination filling the space came through skylights in the ceiling. Considering Nefertum was a solar god, specifically associated with sunrise, it made sense that they would use the sun as their source of light wherever possible.
Several times he caught Nyan’s eye as the young Bedrosian likewise looked around. It was impossible to tell from his expression what he might be thinking, and Daniel made a mental note to ask Nyan whether the building had been renovated or if these hallmarks of glorification to Nefertum were from his own people.
Finally, the pace slowed and Daniel peered over the heads of those walking in front of them. A large circular double door filled the space at the end of the hallway. As they neared, he was able to discern that the rounded doorframe was decorated with gate symbols, making each entry into the council room a kind of representative trip through the god’s portal.
He and Mitchell made their way to the front as Astrid moved between two similarly dressed individuals, who blocked their entry to the council room.
Indicating a rack clearly made for the purpose, she instructed them to deposit their P-90s. “The Triumvirs have determined it is not necessary that you disarm yourselves completely; you may keep your sidearms. However,” she made a show of eying the guards over her shoulders, “you should know that any threat to our leaders will be dealt with swiftly and decisively.”
“We’ll consider ourselves warned, shall we?” Vala quipped, handing her automatic weapon to Grogan for deposit on the rack.
Ignoring the comment, Astrid turned to the door and the guards parted, pivoting away from each other. The door slid open behind them, the mechanism that powered it surprisingly quiet, and the men marched smartly towards the walls. Astrid stepped over the threshold and moved to one side. Snapping to attention, she drew a deep breath.
“The grand chamber of the ruling Triumvirate,” she announced. “May the wisdom of our god be with them.”
Daniel had only a moment to take in the interior, noting how the soaring floor to ceiling windows on two sides of the room made it seem as though they’d walked outside.
The members of the Triumvirate pushed themselves from their places at a long table and stood to face their guests. Parey strode towards them.
Now that he could see more than her head and shoulders, Daniel raked Parey with an assessing gaze. Her blue coat fit snug around her still trim figure, the matching slacks tucked at the bottom into ankle-high boots. Down the front of her uniform, silver buttons bore the distinct outline of a lotus blossom. An emblem of the Stargate, the Gateway, was stitched into the fabric on both arms of her uniform, mirroring where Daniel wore his SGC and team patches.
Parey smoothed out the hem of her coat and Daniel noted the glint of a fairly impressive ring on the middle finger of her right hand. He canted his head, focused on the fingers as they brushed fabric, identifying the ring’s raised circular crest. Guessing it to be a symbol of her office, Daniel confirmed the theory with a quick glance at her cohorts. Both Obert and Elgar wore attire identical to Parey’s, including the ring.
Parey thanked their escort with a nod, the only consideration the young woman received. Astrid returned the nod and retreated to a place by the door as Parey ushered the teams forward.
“Doctor Jackson, Colonel Mitchell. We appreciate you coming.”
“Marshal Parey,” Mitchell returned. “Glad we could make it. We’re here to help in any way we can.”
As though they’d been waiting for just such an opening, the other council members quickly skittered forward. “It would be most helpful if you could find a way to rid us of these blasted insurgents,” Obert declared.
“Whoa, hold on.” Mitchell threw up an outstretched hand, halting them just behind their colleague. “As General Landry said earlier, we can not provide any sort of enforcement assistance. We’re only authorized to give humanitarian aid.”
“The need for that aid will be endless, unless we stop them before they destroy everything,” Obert snapped back.
Daniel shared an anxious look with Mitchell. “Has something happened since we last spoke with you?”
Parey crimped her mouth in annoyance. “There was a raid on one of our storage facilities early this morning. We haven’t confirmed it was the rebels, but it does seem likely.”
“A storage facility, huh?” Mitchell echoed. “What did they take?”
“It was a warehouse of old munitions.”
Vala, who had been hovering on the periphery of the gathering, surged forward, working her way between Daniel and Mitchell. “Munitions? What kind of ordnance are we talking about?”
Daniel shuffled to the side a few steps. “Minister Elgar, Marshal Parey, Magistrate Obert, this is Vala Mal Doran, she’s our… weapons expert.” It wasn’t strictly true, but Vala did know more about alien weaponry than anyone else in their party, including Kal’toc.
Parey tilted her head in curt greeting. “Mostly obsolete huntas, the dual-action rifles carried by the former Bedrosian military,” she disclosed. “All firearms were confiscated from active military members when Optrica took control of the continent. They haven’t been used in years. It’s doubtful many of them still fire long-range, however the interrogation feature is likely still functional. Their charge is long lasting; most are probably still potent enough to cause an impressive shock.”
Daniel was surprised by a flutter across his spine. He remembered all too well the jolts he’d received during Rigar’s questioning. The effect was not nearly as long lasting as the discharge from a zat, and they didn’t induce unconsciousness, but the Bedrosian version of a torture stick packed an impressive wallop.
Shifting, Mitchell nudged Vala, maneuvering her behind them again. “The fact remains we can not get involved in your internal disputes,” he reiterated. “Right now all we can do is evaluate your food and medical needs and Major Holden and his team can assist your engineers in assessing your damaged structures.”
Parey tendered a tight smile. “Of course. Astrid,” she addressed the woman who had escorted them to the chamber. “Please show Major Holden to the city architect’s office. He will have an extensive list of damages and can direct you to those buildings most in need of repair.”
“What about your rebels?” Vala inquired. “Do our people need protection in the city?”
“The rebels are cowards,” Elgar sneered. “They do all their damage at twilight or after dark. Your people should be safe enough, but if you would like an armed escort, we can arrange it, of course.”
Vala raised a questioning eyebrow at Mitchell, who turned to Holden. “Keep a look out and stay in touch.”
“Yes, sir,” SG-8’s team leader acknowledged. Gathering his team with a nod, he headed out after Astrid.
“Kal’toc, go with them,” Mitchell ordered almost as an afterthought. “Help carry the equipment.”
His stony expression giving away nothing of what he might be thinking about the directive, Kal’toc followed the others from the room.
Nyan moved forward. “Marshal Parey,” he began respectfully, with no hint of the animosity he’d displayed toward her the day before. “May I inquire who in your new government I should see concerning the current whereabouts of a sister I left here nine years ago?”
Parey stiffened, and Daniel hoped Nyan would ignore the fact that she was essentially looking down her nose at him.
“Yesterday you all but accused me for a traitor and yet it was you who abandoned your world. Tell me, Nyan, do you still practice your Bedrosian faith in your new home?”
“I wasn’t criticizing you for compromising your beliefs,” Nyan countered a bit acidly, “but for trading them to gain power.”
“But, she did not,” Obert came to her defense. “Marshall Parey was resistant to our suggestion that she ascend to the position of Triumvir. Ultimately, it was the cries of the people for her inclusion that convinced her to accept the office.”
Casting a quick glance to the magistrate, Nyan executed a contrite bow. “I beg your pardon, Marshal. I fear my previous experience with the Bedrosian military unfavorably colored my view of your motives.”
“I accept your apology, Nyan. I wish I could claim that your conclusions were completely baseless. However, we both know that not all Bedrosian military leaders legitimately earned their rank.”
Intrigued by the comment, Daniel opened his mouth to request elaboration, but Mitchell quickly moved in, effectively cutting him off with an upraised finger. “I’m sure there’s a fascinating story behind that comment, and as much as I’d love to hear it, I think maybe we should just get on with the business we came here for.”
Conceding the point with a nod, Daniel scowled at the too Jack-like gesture.
“Of course.” With an elegant sweep of his arm, Obert invited them to the table. “Please sit.”
Nyan shot Daniel a look of concern, clearly worried he would not be allowed to search for his sister. Offering a supportive smile, and meeting his friend’s eyes with an intensity that promised the matter would not be forgotten, Daniel ushered Nyan forward.
Daniel approached the council table with the same sense of optimism that he took to his briefings on Earth. He always hoped for a positive outcome, but knew each mission held the potential for disaster.
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