In the two days before Iblis revealed himself, careful to never be close to the woman, Carter, the Goa’uld made calculations and complex predictions based upon the star charts and other data constructed by Corvus Keen’s astronomers. The fool had been so sure it was his destiny to rule the stars themselves, as though his impure blood could ever be a match for the might of the System Lords. Still, the obsession had proved its worth. With the charts, Iblis was in a position to replicate the conditions that dragged the wormhole off course.
Even with the Mujina to soften his psychology, Iblis did nothing that did not serve his own purposes. That was the nature of the beast.
So for two days Iblis worked to save them, and then finally, when he was ready, he emerged from the shadows.
* * *
“I know where the Goa’uld hid his laboratory,” the Mujina said, seeing the distrust on the Daniel’s face. It was sat cross-legged on the floor when they found it, drawing glyphs in the dirt. It knew he would recognize them for what they were. “Let me help you.”
Over and over he marked out the glyph for Kushmara. It was almost laughable how blind these humans were.
“I don’t think so,” O’Neill said. “You’ll stay very still and speak when you’re spoken to unless you want to end up with your head in a sack again. Understood?”
“I only want to help you,” the Mujina said. This time he scraped out the sign of the Earth. He couldn’t have been more obvious if he tried. “That is all I ever wanted. I swear to you. I did not ask for you to see your dead son’s face in mine. That was your need, not mine. I only wanted to help you.”
O’Neill refused to look at the creature and his anger was sharp. “No more helping.”
Daniel Jackson sat down beside it. It could smell the blood on him still. And inside, the grief that losing his wife caused. “Jack, you should see this.”
The Mujina masked its smile. Daniel traced the outline of the earth glyph. He knew what it meant.
“What is it now, Daniel? Has your pet monkey written a line of Shakespeare in the dirt?”
“As good as,” Daniel said. “I think he’s telling us how to get home.”
That caught O’Neill’s attention.
“Do you know what this is?” the earnest young human asked the creature. It shook its head. “Where did you see it?”
“It was inside the fat king’s mind when I touched it.”
“Is it possible?” Jack said, looking at the lines traced in the dust. “Could Corvus Keen have known the glyph for this planet?”
“It’s possible he knew it without even knowing what it meant,” Daniel said, then he traced a couple of sharp lines around the symbol and suddenly it looked uncannily like the symbol of the Raven Guard.
“Well, I’ll be damned,” O’Neill said.
Daniel leaned in close. “Tell me, have you seen this?” He asked the Mujina as he drew a circle in the dirt. It was a crude rendition of the Chappa’ai. The creature smiled. It knew what he wanted more than anything in the world. He wanted to go home. It nodded, “Yes, yes, the big eye that looks from place to place, that is where Iblis took it. It is there now. I can take you to it. I can show you.”
* * *
But it wasn’t the Mujina that met them, it was Jubal Kane.
The man held out his hand to O’Neill, shaking it. “You have done a great thing for my people, but the fight is not yet won.”
“But you’re the right man for the fight,” O’Neill said.
“Perhaps, but I would be a fool not to ask you to stay and help.”
“We’ve got our own war going on, Jubal. Speaking of wars, where’s the damned Mujina got to?”
They had no way of knowing what the creature had offered him to lie for it. “It is dead.”
“How the hell did that happen?” O’Neill asked.
“I don’t know. I found it in the old chapel where it had made its nest. It had cut its own throat and bled out. I will see to it that the poor animal is laid to rest.” He looked at Sam. “Perhaps you would stay?” He asked, with a smile that said he knew she wasn’t going to say yes.
She ducked her head slightly, returning his smile. “Where they go, I go,” she said.
Jubal Kane turned to Teal’c. “What about you big guy? You know Kiah’s not stopped talking about you since you carried her out of her house like that. You’re the kind of hero I could use as a Number Two.”
O’Neill and the others looked at Teal’c. He hadn’t mentioned anything that had happened while they had been parted. “I am honored, Jubal of the Kelani, but I must return with O’Neill.”
“Well, you guys know where to find us,” Jubal Kane said.
Together they walked through to the chamber where Iblis had had the Stargate stored.
“You’re going to want to keep this covered,” Daniel said. “You don’t want any more Goa’uld coming through.”
“I was thinking of burying it,” Jubal said.
“That would work.”
The DHD had been broken open and had a number of Goa’uld crystals wired into it. Sam had no idea what they did, but assumed it was something Iblis had done to power up the gate so that it was able to dial out.
“Is it going to work?” O’Neill sounded dubious.
“There’s only one way to find out,” Sam said, punching in the first co-ordinate the Mujina had scratched out in the dirt. The chevron locked into place. She smiled back at the others. “Looks like we’re going home.” She punched in the rest of the co-ordinates for the SGC, each chevron in turn locking into place. The ambient glow behind the chevrons themselves flared red as the final one encoded. And then the familiar quicksilver film stretched across the eye of the Stargate, the crystal blue surface agitated as the event horizon of the wormhole established itself at the destination. The ripples surged, exploding outwards in an unstable vortex, before being sucked back in to the churning surface. The difference in the dialing sequence puzzled her, but with the gateway home established she wasn’t going to question it.
Sam stared at the rippling blue portal, knowing she was only five steps away from home it was hard not to just run through it.
“Send the signal, Major Carter. We’re going home.”
Sam activated the GDO, sending SG-1’s call-sign out through the ether.
The Stargate wavered, the wormhole flickering as though about to lose contact. It held but there was no way of knowing how long it would continue to do so.
“What the hell just happened?” O’Neill demanded.
“I don’t know,” Sam said.
“What I mean is: ‘is it going to hold or is it going to collapse when we’re halfway home?’”
“I don’t know!”
“Fine,” O’Neill narrowed his eyes. “Daniel, Carter, Teal’c. Go go go!”
“What about you sir?”
“Last one through turns out the lights. Now go!”
Sam watched Daniel go through, took a deep breath and followed him into the blue.
* * *
The Mujina-Iblis waited outside, listening to the conversation of the Tau’ri before it entered the old laboratory. He saw the Shol’vah follow Carter through the Chappa’ai and black anger surged up inside him. He set his mouth in a grim rictus-smile and walked toward the Stargate. It was all he could do to restrain himself when every muscle and nerve ending cried out to strike down the infidel and be damned with subtlety and plans. Vengeance there and then promised its own pleasures. No. Now was not the time.
“What the hell?” the colonel’s gaze darted between Jubal and the Mujina.
“Sorry, O’Neill,” Jubal said. He couldn’t hold the Tau’ri’s eye. They were simple creatures, the Mujina-Iblis thought, savoring O’Neill’s shock at Jubal’s betrayal. It was almost as fulfilling as the Sol’vah’s blood would have been.
O’Neill reacted instinctively, throwing himself toward the wormhole. It was a pathetic attempt at escape and only served to deepen the Mujina-Iblis’ anger. Th
e temerity of the Tau’ri, to think that it could simply run. The Mujina-Iblis stepped forward, its grin cruel now as a faint snick met his footstep. His weight depressed a hidden pressure plate set into the floor. The air crackled with life as the stasis field activated.
He had used his two days well.
He had prepared.
He had taken apart the components of those vile tablets that had held him captive for so long and rebuilt them in this room, turning the area in front of the Chappa’ai into a trap. The aspect of the twin that was all Iblis savored the irony that the technology that had imprisoned him for so long would save him now.
The force field rose up around O’Neill even as he screamed, as his face froze in that moment of outrage and fear, trapped in that backwards glance at the open Stargate. So close to escape, the rippling blue of the Stargate’s eye taunted him.
O’Neill couldn’t move no matter how desperately he fought against his invisible bonds.
Mujina-Iblis allowed the silver in his eyes to blaze, making certain that O’Neill could see just how thoroughly he had been deceived.
He turned to Jubal. “You served your God well, human.”
O’Neill’s expression darkened as realization crawled across his features. “You can’t manipulate it,” he warned Jubal, struggling against the hold of the force field. Each word cost him. Iblis could have silenced the Tau’ri had he wished, it would have been easy enough, but he liked to hear his victims beg. It added to the enjoyment of the kill. “You can’t control it.”
He was right, of course, but that didn’t matter because Jubal didn’t care. He wasn’t interested in control. He had no desire to harness the Mujina like some beast of burden. All he wanted was vengeance — and right now, he believed the Mujina could deliver his heart’s desire.
“Do you know what it is to see your people exterminated, O’Neill? To be helpless while a monster murders your family before your eyes?” Jubal jerked his head toward Iblis. “With him on our side, we will never be helpless. We will never be slaves again.”
O’Neill ground his teeth, trying to force the denial out: “You’re wrong,” he rasped. “You’re already a slave.”
Mujina-Iblis walked up to O’Neill and placed his hands against his chest. “Enough. I should kill you now for your crimes against my brethren,” he said, noticing the way the man’s eyes narrowed. “Yes, yes, I know your mind, Jack O’Neill. I know what you have done — to Ra, to Apophis, to Seth, to Cronus...”
“You promised he’d be allowed to leave unharmed,” Jubal objected, stepping forward. He reached out, not quite daring to touch his new god. As it should be.Mujina-Iblis smiled coldly, baring his teeth.
“So I did. Death is too simple a fate for a slayer of gods, after all, and I am a patient creature.”
He stepped away, permitting Jubal Kane to approach O’Neill. Any guilt the Kelani man might have felt was masked by his blazing conviction — the Mujina’s talents were, indeed, fascinating.
“You understand,” Jubal said to O’Neill. It was a statement, not a question. “I know you do. With him at our side, we can destroy the Corvani evil forever. He can save us.”
O’Neill shook his head.“Don’t you get it? All you’re doing is trading one monster for another. This isn’t living. Freedom? Don’t make me laugh.”
Jubal didn’t answer. Jaw set tight, he shoved the colonel backwards into the wormhole.
Iblis nodded approvingly.
He had a world to enslave and time enough to devise a million ways for O’Neill pay for his crimes against the Go’auld. The God Slayer would beg the next time they met. For now, the anticipation of his suffering would have to suffice.
He turned his back on Jubal.
There was an entire world waiting to hurt.
What God could ask for more?
About the Author
Steven Savile is the author of the Von Carstein Vampire trilogy (Inheritance, Dominion, Retribution) set in Games Workshop’s popular Warhammer world, and re-released collectively as Vampire Wars, as well as Curse of the Necrach. He has written the best-selling original audio novel Torchwood: Hidden for BBC Audiobooks, read by Naoko Mori who plays Toshiko Sato in the BBC series. He has also written the first novel based in the Primeval universe, extending the adventures of Professor Nick Cutter and his crew out beyond the limits of the British Isles. He has re-imagined the bloodthirsty Celtic barbarian Slaine from 2000 AD in a new duology of novels for Black Flame (The Exile, The Defiler). He has also written for Star Wars, Jurassic Park, and four incarnations of The Doctor.
Most recently he has written The Black Chalice, Book One of the Knights of Albion, soon to be released by Abaddon, whilst Silver, his religious thriller, debuted in hardcover in the US in January of 2010.
Steven’s other original novels and short story collections include: The Hollow Earth, Temple: Incarnations, Laughing Boy’s Shadow, Houdini’s Last Illusion, Angel Road, and the forthcoming The Odalisque and Other Strange Stories, published by Dark Regions Press in the US.
Steven has edited a number of critically acclaimed anthologies, including Elemental, Redbrick Eden, and Doctor Who Short Trips: Destination Prague. He also compiled Smoke Ghost & Other Apparitions and Black Gondolier and Other Stories, the collected horror stories of Fritz Leiber.
He was a runner up in the 2000 British Fantasy Awards, a winner of a 2002 Writers of the Future Award, and won the 2009 Scribe Award for best young adult original novel for his book Shadow of the Jaguar.
Fantastic TV, a study of genre TV shows from the last 50 years was recently released by Plexus.
He is currently working on Gold, the follow-up to Silver, and writing the script for one of the world’s most popular computer games with DICE/Electronic Arts.
SNEAK PREVIEW
Stargate SG-1: Sunrise
by J.F. Crane
The night had grown dark and when Teal’c looked up he could see no stars through the dome that shielded this city from what lay beyond.
He did not speculate as to what that might be, but his instinct — what O’Neill would call his ‘gut’ — told him that it was dangerous. Too much was hidden in this place, too many lies told in the guise of truth, for him to believe that all was well on the world of Ierna. And so he kept his guard raised, his attention ranging out beyond the whispered discussions between his team and into the city at large. Even from this distance he could see the white flicker of the screens that projected the Message onto the vast sides of towering buildings, he could hear the distant hubbub of a city, and beneath it all he could detect the tramp of booted feet. Teal’c did not doubt that they were being hunted by the men who served the Elect.
But they did not come close to the place Rhionna Channon had selected as a meeting point, which made him at once thankful and suspicious. Daughter of the Pastor, her loyalties remained unclear despite her protestations. The Jaffa on Chulak had a favorite expression for such situations — bait your trap with Satta-cakes, not gruel. He would be vigilant.
They awaited her in a deserted plaza beneath a vast, empty tower. At the center of the space a flat rectangular structure, about as high as his waist, sloped down toward a circular area surrounded by a low wall. Once, perhaps, it had been a fountain trickling into a pool but now both were dry and dusty. O’Neill sat on the edge of the slope, swinging his legs to mark his boredom, however the tight grip he maintained on his weapon belied his feigned nonchalance. Major Carter had her back to them all, covering the other entrance to the square. And Doctor Jackson was studying the footage he had taken on his camera, his face ghostly in the light shining up from the screen.
“…really, it’s quite remarkable,” he was saying, gaze intent and brow creased. “We’re looking at a culture that apparently dates its existence from a hundred and fifty years ago.”
“Yes, apparently,” O’Neill said. His eyes were hidden beneath this cap, shadowed in the dark night. Teal’c did not need to see his face to hear the cynicism in his voice. Neit
her did Daniel Jackson.
“I’m not saying they sprang into being a century and a half ago,” he said, his tone skirting irritation. “But there’s clearly been a significant loss of knowledge about their own history. And a retrograde step of that magnitude is almost always the result of some kind of societal cataclysm — war, plague, disaster. Huge population loss.”
“Collective amnesia?” O’Neill had stopped swinging his legs and sat very still. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”
After a silence Daniel said, “There are plenty of reasons why people forget their own past, Jack. Almost none of them involve memory stamps.”
“Yeah, and almost all of them involve some smart-ass in a suit rewriting history to make himself the good guy.”
Daniel Jackson switched off his camera, the small light disappeared and left him in the shadows. “That’s a fair point — history, as they say, is written by the victors.”
“Question is, who’s the enemy here?”
“That’s what we’re here to find out, isn’t it?” Daniel Jackson stood up and stretched. “That’s why we’re meeting Rhionna.”
“Is it?” O’Neill didn’t move. “Is that why we’re here, Daniel? Because I thought it was to get hold of the shield.”
“They’re not mutually exclusive aims.”
“Daniel’s right, sir,” said Major Carter. “Rhionna may be able to help us find out more about the shield.”
“Sure,” O’Neill said. “At a price.”
“You don’t know that, sir.”
“Oh, I think it’s a good bet.” He jumped down from the fountain, his boots echoing dully as they hit the bottom of the empty pool. “There’s always a price.”
SG1-15 The Power Behind the Throne Page 25
