STARGATE SG-1 29 Hall of the Two Truths

by Susannah Parker Sinard

“As we have said, General.” There was an edge of impatience to Aldwin’s voice. “It is a place of no consequence. If or why the Goa’uld might have taken an interest in it, we do not know.”

  “And what about this Jenmar? Why would he want to send SG-1 there?”

  “I cannot say. There are none among the Tok’ra who know Jenmar well. He has always kept to himself — even more so since his blending with Keyleb.” Freya exchanged an odd glance with Aldwin and added, “I truly am sorry, General. I am afraid there is very little we can do to assist you in finding a motive behind Jenmar’s actions, if indeed he is responsible for this.”

  Hammond sat back in his chair and studied them both. His instincts told him they were holding something back, but he wasn’t sure what. He’d just have to dig a little deeper — and push the right buttons.

  “I’m fairly sure you’re not going to like what I’m about to request,” he said in preamble. “But I should warn you that if I don’t get your cooperation, I am willing to go as high up the ladder as it takes to get what I need.”

  “What is it you would ask of us, General?” Anise was back.

  “Access,” he replied. “To anything and everything Jenmar owned or worked on. He is responsible for my people going missing and I want to know why.”

  The two Tok’ra communicated silently through another exchange of looks before their mutual nods indicated they’d reached an agreement.

  “Although, as you are aware, it is our policy not to share information with outsiders,” began Aldwin.

  “We agree that it is in the best interest of all concerned if we cooperate with you on this matter,” finished Anise. “If Jenmar had an agenda of his own, it would be beneficial to both of our peoples to discover what that may be.”

  “And you’ll share everything with the SGC,” Hammond reiterated. He needed to make sure they were quite clear on that matter. Anise bowed her head slightly. When she raised it, it was Freya who spoke.

  “You have our word, General. Everything.”

  Hammond nodded. Now they were finally getting somewhere.

  “Good. Then we have a deal.”

  “Explain.” NebtHet tried not to snap at Jenmar. What happened on Teranu had not been his fault, but this was a complication she had not anticipated. “How was it that you came under attack by the Goa’uld?”

  She was halfway out of the hall before she realized he was not at her side. Instead he stood where she had ringed him out of the subterranean room, gaping at the pillars which rose high above them and taking in the morning light that bathed the chaapa’ai in a golden glow as if he’d never seen either before. Had he? Was this his first visit to Duat? That hardly seemed possible, but perhaps it was.

  She felt she ought to know these things. He was her acolyte, after all. Today, however, was not the day to admire architecture. Hearing her call his name, Jenmar looked immediately penitent and hastened to catch up, trotting next to her long, purposeful strides. She repeated the question.

  “I do not know,” he answered, somewhat breathless from keeping pace. “Their arrival was completely unexpected.”

  “I do not appreciate things which are unexpected. We have worked for millennia for this moment. Having the Goa’uld interfere, even tangentially, is troubling.” She came to a sudden halt and studied Jenmar. “You must go back,” she decided. “You must go back and learn everything you can about the attack. I need to know who they were and how it was they came by their information.” She set her jaw resolutely. “I will not allow our last, best hope for ascension to be lost at the hands of the Goa’uld.”

  Jenmar was very still. He looked exceedingly pale in the bright sunlight. The Tok’ra and their tunnels: they were like rodents who never saw the light of day.

  “Returning will be… difficult,” he stammered. “I do not think I will find a welcome among either the Tok’ra or the Tau’ri, and certainly no help.”

  NebtHet dismissed his comment with a wave of her hand.

  “I have no doubt you will be your usual resourceful self. I have complete trust in you, Jenmar. You have not failed me yet.” She reached into the pocket of her robe and withdrew a small bronze sphere. She had brought it in case the rings in the dungeon had failed. They had not been used in many years.

  “Take this.” She placed the communication orb into his outstretched hand. “When you have news, contact me.”

  Jenmar looked as if he wanted to speak but changed his mind. He bowed instead, and hurried back through the portico toward the hall of the chaapa’ai. NebtHet paused to watch him go.

  Perhaps she had been a bit abrupt with him. The truth was, she could not have gotten this far without his assistance.

  When Jenmar had sought her out, seeking to join the Djedu, she had been hesitant. There had been no novices to the order for centuries. But his earnestness had been compelling and his position among the Tok’ra too strategic an opportunity for her to pass up. Without him, she never would have learned of the advancements of the Tau’ri and the potential of SG-1.

  And she wouldn’t be here now, on the threshold of revelation.

  She owed him much more than even he, perhaps, realized. And when the time came, she would gratefully pay that debt.

  The sun was warm on her face as it dipped low behind the Great Hall. For a moment she closed her eyes and tilted her head so that its rays completely enveloped her. Three thousand years of expectations had brought them to this one, single moment. It was impossible not to feel the magnitude of it.

  Now it would truly begin.

  NebtHet took a deep and steadying breath.

  The time had come for her to awaken the dead.

  Jenmar all but staggered back into the chamber of the chaapa’ai. Whatever beauty it had held for him mere moments before was lost now. He leaned against one of the great pillars and stared at the orb in his hand.

  NebtHet wanted him to go back. Back to the Tok’ra and the Tau’ri in search of answers. How could she ask such a thing, after all he had done? Did she not comprehend what his fate would be? By now his role in the disappearance of SG-1 surely would have been suspected. The only thing that awaited him back on Revanna was questioning and incarceration. Perhaps they would even hand him over to the Tau’ri. He had heard of their dungeons. Underground places, where sunlight was forbidden. He would be left forever in the dark and cold — as he had been on Wasir, before help came.

  He had risked everything for NebtHet. Believed in her. Followed her. All he ever wanted was peace. An escape from the turmoil of this life. A transcendent path where there were no dark places, no pain, no loss. The Djedu had been his salvation. Their quest was his quest. He longed only to join them.

  “How fares our spy today?”

  Jenmar had not heard Aset approach. She must have been lying in wait for him in the shadowy corners of the vast hall. He slipped the orb into his pocket, out of sight.

  “Hmmm.” She eyed him critically. “You appear troubled, Jenmar. Has NebtHet said something to distress you?”

  He could not hold it in. “I am to return to Revanna. She wishes me to discover who was behind the attack on Teranu.”

  There was a strange glimmer in her eyes. “I hardly think you will be welcomed with open arms by the Tok’ra.”

  Finally. Someone who understood.

  “I fear this is true.”

  “Then why go?”

  Jenmar bowed his head. “Because I am sent.”

  Aset shrugged. “Why not refuse?” She leaned in closer. “Is it because you fear NebtHet will deny you the great secret of ascension once she has discovered it from the Tau’ri?”

  Jenmar’s shoulders drooped. “My Lady Aset knows I have never secured such a promise, although I live in hope.”

  Aset laughed out loud. It echoed through the hall. A few passing Djedu turned their heads.

  “Hope, Jenmar, is for those who are too timid to take command of their own fate.” She lowered her voice, conspiratorially. “Besides. It’s quite t
he fool’s errand, isn’t it? Since I already know who was behind the attack.”

  Jenmar looked at her in gratitude. If she had this information, then he would not have to leave.

  “We must inform NebtHet!”

  Aset narrowed her eyes. “We could,” she mused languidly. “And would that lessen the sting of her betrayal? Would it take away the brutal fact that she has not only used you to make this experiment possible in the first place, but now wishes to send you back to the very people you betrayed in her name?”

  Every word Aset spoke hit its mark. She had given voice to what burned within him. NebtHet had betrayed him, nothing less. Resentment replaced dismay.

  “And do you think,” Aset continued, when he made no reply, “having tried to be rid of you this way, and failing, NebtHet will proceed to share her secrets with one she obviously deems unworthy?”

  He knew it would not be so. NebtHet had revealed her true self. To her, he was only a means to an end. How had he ever allowed himself to believe she would help him ascend? His hope had indeed blinded him.

  “I will tell you no lies, Jenmar. I will share with you the secret of who attacked the Tau’ri on Teranu.” Aset leaned closer to him. “I know you, Jenmar a’Keyleb.” She whispered his full Djedu name in his ear. “I know why you sought out the Djedu, what you seek in ascension. And I tell you this: NebtHet’s plan will fail. This is her last, desperate grasp to attain the unattainable.” She walked behind him and leaned in toward his other ear. “The Tau’ri have no answers for her. But that doesn’t mean they cannot yet help us — you and I, and those who understand that the peace you seek comes not from transcending to another plane of existence, but by assuring an end to the constant conflict on this one.” Aset stepped back, offering him a knowing smile. “It doesn’t mean running away from who we are, but embracing it — and assuring the success of one mighty enough to bring a final and enduring peace to the entire galaxy.”

  Jenmar flinched. “You mean, a Goa’uld.”

  “A peacemaker,” Aset insisted. “More powerful than any System Lord. When he comes to rule, I assure you, there will be no more wars. No more fighting. There will be peace — the very peace you are so longing for.”

  Peace at the hands of a Goa’uld? The part of Jenmar that had been Tok’ra his whole life rejected such an idea.

  But perhaps this was the best he could hope for. And if no planet ever again suffered the fate of Wasir, if no more Tok’ra perished fighting a battle that could never be won, then maybe that was not a bad second choice after all.

  Jenmar straightened his back. “What must I do?”

  “It’s quite simple, really.” Aset smiled. “Make a delivery to an old friend.”

  She pulled a small wooden box from her sleeve and handed it to him. “This is a gift. Tell him it is a token of my good faith.” From a pocket she pulled a blue data crystal and held it up. “This contains my request.” From her other pocket she brought out a clear crystal. “If his master agrees to grant my request, then you may give him this.” Before he could take it from her hands, she pulled it back. “If he refuses, you are to destroy this. Is that clear?”

  Jenmar nodded.

  “I would do this myself, of course, but NebtHet has enrolled me in her little drama. So I am counting on you to be my wise and cunning representative.”

  Jenmar accepted the box and slipped the crystals into his pocket with the orb. “Who is this old friend I am to visit?”

  He did not find Aset’s smile reassuring.

  “Oh, I think you will be in for quite the surprise.”

  The planet was too warm for Jenmar’s liking. The heat and humidity pulled at his lungs the moment he stepped through the chaapa’ai. Neither did he enjoy the sight of a half-dozen staff weapons pointed directly at him. Still holding the small box, he raised his arms.

  “I have been sent by Aset,” he called out. “My name is Jenmar. Tell Tanith I am here.”

  Chapter Four

  THE FIRST sensation of which Teal’c became aware was the hardness of the surface on which he lay. It pressed against his back without yielding and was solid beneath his head. It was also cold. He felt as if all the warmth from his body had leeched into it, as though it were sponge made of solid rock.

  Rock. Now he recognized it. And with recognition came memory. A cavern. A Goa’uld. A zat’nik’tel. And pain. The pain of death. Because there had not been one zat’nik’tel, but two. And he had died.

  Or not.

  Cautiously he pushed himself up into a sitting position. His attire was unfamiliar to him. He wore thin linen pants and a tunic and upon his feet were strapped leather sandals. Little wonder he had felt the dampness so acutely.

  The stone slab he had been laying on was in the middle of a large, empty room with a single arched doorway. Surrounding him were walls of great hewn stones. Their smoothness and precision showed evidence of having been fit together by master hands. Teal’c had seen such craftsmanship before. The palaces of the System Lords were similarly built, with the sweat and blood of many Jaffa slaves.

  Teal’c tried standing. The room swayed for a moment but then righted itself. He did not recognize this place, although there was very little to distinguish one Goa’uld prison from another. But was it a prison? The archway marked the only way out, but he could see no door or bars to keep him from leaving. Perhaps there was a force shield.

  He approached the opening cautiously. He could discern no ripple in the air, hear no thrumming of any energy. A temperate breeze brushed by him, unimpeded, and he caught the faint scent of fresh air and greenery.

  Through the opening Teal’c saw only forest and brush and a single path that led from the doorway into a thicket. There was nothing to prevent him from leaving and no one else was in sight.

  Neither was there any sign of O’Neill and the others.

  The vaguely unsettling memory of dying returned. Perhaps the rest of SG-1 had met a similar fate. Yet he did not appear to be dead. All aspects of his physiology seemed as it had been before, including the presence of his symbiote, content within its pouch. This was not death as he understood it.

  At least, he did not think so.

  Teal’c’s eyes rested on a long, thin object leaning against the wall in the shadows. He recognized it at once. It was his staff weapon. Teal’c eyed it suspiciously. Why would his captors return his weapon to him? It was most strange, unless —

  Careful of a booby-trap, Teal’c hefted the staff. In weight and balance it felt as it should, and when he activated it he heard the thrum of its power at the precise frequency he knew was his. Examining it, he could discern no tampering. All was as it should be.

  Nevertheless, it was peculiar to find it here.

  On the ground, beside the weapon, was also a knapsack containing food and a skin filled with water. The food was nothing Teal’c recognized, but evidently was meant to be nutritious and an adequate substitution for more traditional meals. After sniffing the water, he drank a small amount. It had a pleasant, fresh taste.

  The stone bier. His clothing. The tokens of food and water. The staff weapon — his most treasured possession. He understood, now, why there was no guard. He knew what this place was.

  It was a burial chamber, similar to those used on Chulak by the ancestral Jaffa before the Rite of Burning had taken the place of entombment. But if this was Chulak, how had he come to be here? Had the others brought him here, presuming him dead?

  Perhaps he was indeed dead, after all.

  That would explain much. Would not his spirit long to return home, if given a choice? Was this his calak’s journey through darkness to everlasting life?

  There were no answers to be found in this tomb. If he wished to discover the truth, he had no choice but to follow the path into the forest. Either he would learn what had become of O’Neill and the others or he would endure the trials of the dead on his path to eternity.

  Accepting the gifts of food and water, Teal’c grasped his staff wea
pon firmly in his hand and stepped through the doorway.

  Whichever fate awaited him, he was prepared.

  Daniel stood in the doorway, blinking into the blinding sunlight. He was relieved to leave the chamber and its claustrophobic air behind him. Even the sand-colored walls had been incapable of banishing the shadows which had reached out for him from its unfathomable corners. He had been reminded immediately of Abydos and the pyramid which housed the Stargate, except this was on a smaller scale — and without a Stargate.

  Although the view might have fooled him. How many times had he stood atop the steps of the Abydonian pyramid and gazed across the endless stretch of sand and dunes, feeling the same dry wind and relentless sun? If he hadn’t known better, he might have believed he stood there now.

  Except, he did know better.

  It just didn’t feel like Abydos. He’d lived there long enough to recognize the subtle differences of air and gravity which separated it not only from Earth but from every other planet he’d visited. This was not Abydos. Although it was close. Very close.

  If only he could sort out exactly what had happened. He was clearly alone. There was no sign of Jack or Sam or Teal’c anywhere. The small pyramid behind him could not have housed any other chambers besides his own. He had been the sole occupant of the tomb.

  Tomb. That was exactly what it was like. Especially when he considered how he was presently dressed. The plain woven linen pants and tunic reminded him of ancient burial shrouds, and considering that he’d been laying on nothing less than a stone bier —

  Perhaps someone had thought he was dead.

  Or maybe he was.

  NebtHet. Goddess of the Dead.

  The full memory returned with searing clarity. Had he been shot twice? He had no memory of the second zat. But considering what they’d done to Teal’c, he could only assume he had.

  Which meant that he ought to be dead. But if he was, this wasn’t like any death he’d ever imagined.

  Although if there was any place in the universe he would have considered close to a concept of heaven, it had been Abydos. At least, while Sha’re had been alive.