STARGATE SG-1 29 Hall of the Two Truths

by Susannah Parker Sinard

  “That’s the same as a lie.” She would not let him off on a technicality.

  “I beg to differ with you. It is not. You merely jumped to a conclusion.”

  That stung. Jumping to conclusions was something she was rarely accused of. Her training had taught her to do just the opposite. His implication that she’d let her emotions cloud her perceptions only heightened her annoyance.

  “So what was the point of all that, anyway.” She shifted gears. “There are easier ways to kill me than dumping me in a pit of boiling mud.”

  “Why would you think I want to harm you in any way?”

  “Gee. Why would I think that?” She stopped walking and turned to face him. “If you really had my best interest at heart, you’d be upfront about what’s going on here. But instead, you keep up this pretense that you’re Martouf — which is really getting old, by the way.”

  He wisely said nothing in reply, managing to look somewhat contrite. He absently probed his swollen jaw and she wondered if he’d concluded that there were times when it was better not to speak. She hoped so.

  Spinning back around, Sam resumed walking. The path now was easy. Any trace of snow was far behind them and the landscape had evolved into a series of small, colorless hills. They were effortless to climb but they did block the far horizon, and the smattering of trees across them obscured any long-range view. She hated travelling blind, but the path only led in one direction, so it wasn’t like she had much of a choice.

  “How do you do it, anyway?” she asked after a few minutes.

  “Do what?”

  “Look like Martouf. Sound like him. Know what he was like? I’ve seen devices that allow one person to look like another, so I know it can be done. It’s just that with the copies there are usually discrepancies. But then, I guess if someone could turn the real Martouf into a za’tarc, they could probably figure out how to make a pretty convincing doppelganger for him too.” She was fishing. The only device that she was aware of that could do such a thing wouldn’t be able to duplicate the knowledge this Martouf seemed to possess. In many ways the whole thing was flawless. Except for the small detail that the real Martouf was dead.

  He was silent for so long, Sam thought perhaps he wasn’t going to reply.

  “What if I told you that I really am Martouf, just not entirely the same as you once knew me,” he said at last.

  “I know. You’re a Ba. Whatever the hell that is.”

  “No — that was a lie. I thought, perhaps, you would find that easier to accept than the truth. ”

  Sam stopped again, this time so suddenly that Martouf nearly ran into her. Admitting to the lie was the last thing she’d expected from him. Yet there was something in the quietness of his voice that made her hold back her angry retort. “Explain,” she said instead.

  “When you shot me — killed me — my injuries were too severe for Lantash to heal. You may not know this, but as a symbiote ages, its ability to heal its host diminishes. Lantash is quite old. Not as old as Selmak, but still quite venerable by Tok’ra standards.” He gave a slight smile before becoming serious again. “When it became evident that he could no longer do me any good, Lantash was removed from this host. I was kept alive by machines long enough for that to happen, and as soon as Lantash was safely placed in stasis, it was the intention of the Tok’ra to disconnect my life support.”

  Sam shrugged off a shudder. “What happened?”

  The sad smile returned. “I was given a second chance. A Tok’ra, whom I will not name, found another, younger symbiote. He smuggled me away from Revanna and brought me here so I could be implanted and healed. I am Martouf, Samantha, but the symbiote within me now is called Anat.”

  Of all the ridiculous things he had told her up until now, this, at least, made sense. It fit the evidence too. She had been trying for some time now to speak with the Tok’ra scientists about Martouf and Lantash, but they continued to stonewall her. If someone had smuggled the dying Martouf out of the Tok’ra base, she could see how the knowledge of it would be something they’d want to keep from her.

  “That would explain why I can sense the symbiote then,” she mused, more to herself. “But I thought there were no more Tok’ra? Without Egeria, how can there be any young symbiotes?”

  He hesitated for just a moment before quietly answering. “I did not say Anat was Tok’ra.”

  Sam stepped back, instinctively, her hand tightening around the knife she still held.

  “You’re a Goa’uld.” She couldn’t help the note of horror in her voice.

  But he was shaking his head. “Anat is neither Tok’ra nor Goa’uld,” he explained. “There are others of the same race who do not subscribe to either philosophy. Anat is one of these.”

  Right. And Goa’ulds never lied. “How do you expect me to believe you?” Maybe — maybe — she could accept that this really was Martouf, but it would take a whole lot of convincing for her to believe that what was inside of him was a benign symbiote. She’d already met this planet’s welcoming party. ‘Benign’ wasn’t exactly the word she’d use. “What is this, the second or third story you’ve tried to spin since you showed up here? You can’t blame me for not entirely buying this one either.”

  “I understand how difficult it is for you to trust me, Samantha. I know I should have explained everything to you from the start. I was worried you might not accept Anat as you did Lantash.”

  Had she ever really accepted Lantash? It was almost always Martouf who had spoken when they’d been together. In Jolinar’s memories, however, the two were inexplicably intertwined. She had loved them equally — almost as if they were one being. But Sam had never been able to make that same connection. Lantash, to her, was mostly hidden. It was Martouf to whom she had become so close. In fact, she had done her best not to think of Lantash very often, if she could help it. Which was strange, because she never had a problem with Selmak that way.

  So Lantash or Anat — it really didn’t make any difference to her — only to the extent that one was Tok’ra and the other was not.

  It was the ‘not’ that was worrying her.

  “Could you at least explain why I’m even here in the first place? And where are Colonel O’Neill and the others?”

  Martouf looked contrite. “It is on my account that you are all here. You see, there is one disadvantage to my current situation — one that I’d hoped to alleviate by trying to convince you that you had no choice but to remain here with me.”

  “What disadvantage?” Sam already had a feeling she didn’t like where this was headed.

  “Because my injuries were so severe, even Anat could not fully heal them. He must revitalize me on an almost daily basis. To do so, he draws on the unique properties of this planet. Were he to leave here, he could no longer sustain me. If I were to leave here, I would most assuredly die.”

  Sam processed that for a moment. She supposed there could be something unique about the planet that would help Anat keep his host alive, but that was beside the point.

  “That still doesn’t tell me why I’m here,” she said.

  “It’s simple really.” There was that winsome smile again. “I was lonely. I missed you. And I thought, if you believed you were dead as well, you would be content to remain here with me.”

  Of course she’d always known he’d felt something for her — something above and beyond what remnants of Jolinar she still carried with her. But she’d done her best to keep Martouf’s friendship from ever crossing that invisible line. Apparently she hadn’t been as successful with that as she’d thought. Sam had no idea what to say in response.

  “It was, in retrospect, a foolish plan,” he went on when she made no reply. “Made even more foolish by its unintended consequences.”

  She didn’t like the sound of that. “Which are?”

  “The inhabitants of this planet are a dying race themselves. Their hosts have reached the limit of their lifespan. Because of their dependency on the planet, they cannot leave it
to search for new ones. Any new hosts must come to them — willingly, as I did, or… unwillingly.”

  Now she did feel sick. “So, you brought us here to be hosts?” Sam smiled bitterly. “And you claim you’re not a Goa’uld.”

  Martouf was looking sorrowful. “Because you are my friend, Samantha, at my behest they have left you unjoined. I cannot, I’m afraid, say the same for the rest of your people.”

  If she’d thought she’d felt stone cold before, she felt frigidly leaden now. The Colonel, Daniel, Teal’c —

  Wait a minute.

  “Teal’c can’t be used as a host. He’s Jaffa,” she pointed out, trying to quell the panic over the colonel’s and Daniel’s fate and grasping any straw she could find.

  “But he carries a symbiote within,” explained Martouf. “The Jaffa, Shan’auc, might have been unsuccessful in converting her symbiote to the ways of the Tok’ra, but there are other means. When it reaches maturity, Teal’c’s symbiote will become one of them.”

  “Like you.”

  He shook his head. “I have told you, Anat is different. We live in harmony. But there are only a few on this world who share this belief. It is the others who dominate this planet.”

  “NebtHet.” The woman’s presence was hard to forget. Martouf looked slightly surprised.

  “You remember her.”

  “Yeah. Kinda hard to forget someone who kills you,” she snapped.

  “Again, I apologize. It seemed, at the time, the easiest way to convince you this was the afterlife.”

  Sam’s anger was simmering again, along with an urgency to keep moving. If there was even the slimmest chance she could rescue the others before —

  “How could you, of all people, even consider this?” she raged at him, needing to channel her fury toward something. And he deserved it. “The Martouf I knew would have died rather than allow others to be sacrificed for his own survival. In fact, the Martouf I knew did exactly that.”

  He looked chastised, but also somewhat defiant. “And I have told you, I am Martouf — but also, not. It is the price I have had to pay. I do not say it is without regret.”

  “Yeah.” She hoped her sarcasm cut deep. “I can really tell.”

  Sam couldn’t stand to look at him any longer. She walked away, letting her anger carry her forward with great, long strides. Behind her, she heard him following again. If only he had been an imposter, she wouldn’t feel as nauseated as she did right now at the thought of what he’d become.

  “So, now that I know,” she called over her shoulder. “What happens next? You can’t really expect me to stay here. And you of all people should know that there’s no way I’m going to just give up on the rest of my team.” It was time to turn her anger into something productive and start thinking of a plan.

  “You must not attempt to rescue them, Samantha. You will only put yourself at risk.”

  She huffed. “I thought you just told me I was protected.”

  “You are as long as you willingly agree to remain. If you choose otherwise, I cannot assure your safety either.”

  Funny how he had neglected to mention that before. “You mean they’ll use me as a host too.”

  Martouf said nothing, but a quick glance behind her and the look on his face was all the answer she needed.

  “So, you win either way, don’t you? Whether I stay willingly or become a host, you get to keep me around.” She shook her head, disgust squeezing her stomach yet again. “You know, it’s a shame you didn’t die back on Revanna. You’re a disgrace to the memory of the Martouf I knew.”

  Her stride lengthened again as she picked up her pace, trying to put some distance between herself and this mockery of the man she had once known so well. There had to be a way out of this. No way was she just going to accept that she and the rest of her team were fated to be trapped here forever. What she needed was more information.

  “What is it about this place that makes it impossible for these symbiotes to leave?”

  She heard him sigh. “I do not pretend to completely understand it. But this planet has a very dense naquadah core. Over the millennia the properties of the naquadah have imbued the symbiotes with a very strong healing ability. But it has also become an integral part of their physiology. They need constant exposure to the properties of this naquadah to even exist.”

  That was interesting. “I suppose it’s possible that the naquadah may have become integrated into the food chain, which in turn affected the symbiotes by virtue of their dependence upon the host’s physiology to sustain them.”

  “As I said, I have no idea how it is that they have adapted this way, but the fact is, they have and it is what has prevented NebtHet’s people from ever leaving this place, even after they found the Stargate.”

  She pulled up short and stared at him. “Wait — so there is a Stargate here?”

  Martouf nodded. “Yes. Although there was not thought to be one when the Goa’uld banished their brethren to this place. It was only discovered years after their dependence upon the planet’s core had become irreversible.”

  She had been so distracted by the revelation that there was a Stargate on the planet that Sam almost missed a slight movement in her periphery. She raised her hand to silence Martouf, and scanned the area until she saw it again. It was a fair distance from them, but moving quickly in their direction. At first Sam thought it might be a bird or an animal, but as its speed brought it closer she could see it was a man — a young man, little more than a boy, really. Perhaps about Rya’c’s age.

  As soon as Martouf caught sight of him, he hurried forward to greet him.

  “Ne’ban, what news? Why have you come here?” There was an urgency in Martouf’s voice. Almost a fear.

  “I had to warn you.” The boy was nearly breathless. There was panic in his voice. “The plan has been altered. NebtHet has changed her mind. They are coming for her.” He turned and stared at Sam, wide-eyed. “They are coming for you now.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  HAVING spent a year on Abydos, Daniel thought he knew what ‘hot’ was. Obviously he’d been mistaken. He might have been fine had he not been carrying the old woman. The heat from her body held next to his only made the unbearable temperature even more unbearable. They were travelling much slower because of her, and Daniel knew they should have sought shelter at least an hour ago. But as there was no shelter, they’d kept moving toward what Sha’re promised would be a place of rest.

  Daniel almost didn’t care. It had been a long time since he’d felt such absolute physical exhaustion. He was more stumbling than walking, his brain nearly numb from the effort of putting one foot in front of the other. And really, what was the point? If he was already dead, as Sha’re insisted, then dying again wasn’t going to be any worse. And if he wasn’t dead, well, dying would be a nice change of pace about now.

  Sha’re had not allowed his slow speed to hold her back. His insistence at bringing the old woman with them had not gone over well and she had expressed her displeasure by making no concessions to the handmaid’s frailty. She was well ahead of them now, not quite a dot on the horizon but close enough. From time to time the terrain would rise and Daniel would lose sight of her as she disappeared over a ridge, but her footprints in the sand always kept him on track. He had called out to her a few times, asking her to wait, but either she was too far ahead to hear or she chose to ignore him. He wondered if she even cared whether he was still following her or not.

  He was really leaning toward the ‘not’ part when he saw that she had stopped atop a distant hill and was waving at him. More than that, she was beckoning to him, urging him to come quickly.

  Mustering what little energy he had left, Daniel did his best to walk faster. He hoped that her enthusiasm meant they’d finally reached somewhere they could stop and rest until dark.

  Staggering up the last incline, he barely noticed what lay beyond. It was only after Sha’re had offered him her water skin and he’d drank gratefully that h
is eyes focused enough to see the river valley below. A line of demarcation between the vibrant green of the fertile flood plain and the barrenness of the desert was incredibly clear from their vantage point. And in the far distance, snaking through the midst of it, was the source river. If Daniel hadn’t known better, he’d have sworn he was looking at the Nile itself.

  “There.” Sha’re pointed. The sun was so bright Daniel had to squint to see, but at last he could make out a dock at the river’s edge. A single barge was moored next to it, the only sign of civilization. “Hurry!” Sha’re cried, her voice high with panic. “They will leave without us!”

  Daniel wasn’t sure he had any hurry left in him, but an unexpected cooling breeze off the distant water offered a promise that the worst of the trip was behind them. If nothing else, the thought of putting his burning feet in the cold, rushing current was incentive enough for one last push. He shifted the semi-conscious old woman in his arms for what he hoped was the final time and followed Sha’re down into the valley.

  It was another half hour or so before they made it to the river bank and the waiting boat. It was a genuine Egyptian barque, long and narrow, with great sweeping lines to its prow and stern. In the midst, a single mast rose, its sail not yet set, although there were two figures standing attentively near it, ready to unfurl it at a moment’s notice. Daniel counted eight oarsman — bronze-skinned, bare-chested men with straight black hair who looked uncannily alike, seated in mirroring positions on either side of the boat, their oars raised and brought inside. At the bow another man stood facing forward, upstream. In the stern, his counterpart, the helmsman, held the shafts of two massive rudders by which to steer.

  The remainder of the space was filled with seated people. They were packed like sardines, wedged tightly against one another in neat rows behind the mast. If it weren’t for the occasional stirring, Daniel would have mistaken them for statues, they sat so still. No one spoke a word.