by Stargate
“Yes, Papa,” sighed Mikah, and glanced up. “I like the woman’s face, Papa,” he whispered. “I am sorry she won’t be yours.”
Boaz let his hand smooth Mikah’s riotous curls. “Hush,” he said again, but not harshly. He was sorry, too.
After the cleansing they walked in their shifts back home to put on clean clothes. Dressed again, Boaz cleared his trunk of his belongings and put them in the room that Tayt had slept in. Lit the lamps in the window and the hall, collected the walking lamp and tinder for lighting it, then went with Mikah to the meeting hall.
Serena, David and Joseph were just laying the last of the wooden plates on the trestle tables when he arrived. They saw him and stopped, uncertain. He looked to Curjin, chief cook of the meeting hall. “Ring the summons to nightmeal, Curjin,” he said.
As Curjin nodded and went outside, he beckoned the new blood over. “I sit there,” he told them, pointing to the trestle table at the top of the hall, closest to the kitchen. His hand bell, bright with polish, rested by his plate, bowl and cutlery. “At the head man’s table. My son sits with me, and every night those I choose to speak with over nightmeal. You will sit with me tonight, your first night. In the morning, at firstmeal, you will mingle with the others.”
“And this is your son?” said Serena, nodding at Mikah. “I remember him from before. When we arrived.”
“Yes,” he said, and did not try to hide his pride and pleasure. “This is Mikah.”
“Pleased to meet you, Mikah,” she said. “I’m Serena. This is Joseph, and this is David.”
“Papa says you come from worlds far away,” said Mikah, eyes shining with excitement. “He says you served great lords, Goa’uld who serve the god. One day I will serve a great lord, I know it. Perhaps I will even serve the god himself! He has human servants, Lord Choulai says. And Lord Choulai must know. He is beloved of Yu.”
As Joseph opened his mouth, Serena fixed him with a stare. “Don’t, Joseph.”
Joseph returned her look with one of his own, critical and reassuring at the same time, then dropped to a crouch before Mikah. “I still serve a great lord, Mikah,” he said. “Every day I do his bidding. It pleases me that I do this. That’s why I’m here. And while I’m here, I’ll do whatever it takes to see that his wishes are fulfilled.”
“Of course,” said Mikah, puzzled. “That is what humans do. They obey the wishes of their great lords. The wishes of the Goa’uld, who rule the universe.”
To Boaz’s great surprise, some deep and painful feeling washed over Joseph’s face. He reached out a hand, and touched it to Mikah’s cheek. “Yeah. It feels that way sometimes, I know.”
Outside the hall, Curjin clanged and clanged the bell, and the first of the villagers entered the hall hungry for nightmeal. Their faces were curious, their gazes lingering on the new blood, but of course they did not approach or speak. They would not, until their head man gave them leave.
Boaz dropped his hand to Mikah’s shoulder, easing him away from Joseph. “Come,” he said. “We must sit. Nightmeal will be served soon.”
So in silence they sat, waiting for the hall to fill. Even as he inspected each entering worker, he also watched Mikah trying not to stare at the old man with silver hair. Watched a smile creep into Joseph’s stern eyes, aware of Mikah’s interest. When the last villager arrived and took her place, he stood and rang his hand bell.
“Here are three newcomers,” he announced, once all the chattering tongues had stilled. “Serena and Joseph, mated by Lord Rebec, servant of Yu the Mighty and Everlasting. And David, unmated as yet. Serena will work in the babyhouse. David will tend the goats with the children. Joseph will help me prepare the fallow fields for planting the coldseason crops. Let us pray.” He bowed his head, and held wide his hands. “We gather together in the sight of our god Yu, Mighty and Everlasting. Our blood is his. Our bodies are his. We serve him without reservation, for his glory and gratification. Great god, hear our prayer. Fill our seed with life and quicken our wombs, that we may deliver to you the most precious harvest of all.”
“Great god, hear our prayer,” the villagers replied in a gusty sigh.
Then it was time to eat.
“Fill your bellies well,” Boaz advised, as the servers brought them boiled corn, roasted fowl, goat stew, buttered potatoes, steaming honeyed carrots and peas, plump and greenly shining. “Tomorrow you will rise before the sun and labor until the dusk, with only a break for water.”
“What?” said Joseph, as another server filled his mug with ale. “No lunch?”
He frowned. “What is lunch?”
“A meal eaten in the middle of the day,” said David.
“The day is for working,” he said. “Before and after day is for eating. Only babies eat a midmeal. Come. Fill your bellies. If you do not eat you will grow weak and if you are weak not only will you fail to quicken get, most likely you will not work hard enough. Hol’c has a remedy for humans who do not work hard enough. I doubt you will like it.”
Joseph made a face. “You heard the man, David, Serena. Eat.”
There was no more talking after that, just the sounds of knife and fork against plate. When the food was eaten and the ale drunk, Serena said, “What happens now, Boaz? What do you do in the evenings?”
Boaz shrugged. “Sometimes there is singing. Sometimes there is dancing. Sometimes there are games. You three will go home, now. You and Joseph must mate, and—”
“Now?” said Joseph, startled. “Ah—Boaz—”
Was the man stupid after all? “She must ripen within a month, Joseph,” he said, impatient. “If she does not, Hol’c might decide she’s infertile and put her down instead of giving her another mate. You he will put down. I know Hol’c. He will look at your silver hair and the lines on your face and he will say you are withered, your seed leached of life. He will say you are only good for fertiliser.”
Joseph smirked. “Lord Rebec might disagree.”
“Lord Rebec is not master of this farm. This farm lies in Lord Choulai’s domain and he scarcely comes here,” Boaz retorted, flooded with frustrated fury. “He relies on Jaffa Master Hol’c to tell him what he needs to know. Hol’c is the true lord here, Joseph. Not Lord Choulai.” Then, abruptly horrified, he remembered Mikah. Snatching his wide-eyed son’s ear between his fingers, he twisted. “But you did not hear me say that, Mikah,” he whispered fiercely. “That is secret head man’s knowledge and if you speak it elsewhere the god will know and he will strike you down!”
As Mikah whimpered, Joseph leaned close. “You’re hurting him, Boaz. Let him go.”
Boaz turned, his spine prickling. Joseph spoke softly, but in his voice was a killing coldness. His eyes were slits of rage.
“Joseph…” said David. He sounded afraid.
Serena put her hand on Joseph’s arm. “Please,” she said. Then she looked at him. “Boaz, let Mikah go. I’m sure he knows how to hold his tongue. We all do. The last thing any of us wants is trouble.”
“But you will have it, Serena!” he said, and released Mikah’s ear. “You are too bold for humans, on these strange worlds you’ve come from you’ve somehow forgotten your places! Death is only ever a whisper away, here. Holc’s word is law and he strikes without mercy. If I do not guide you, if you do not listen, and obey me, you will die. Others might die because of you. I am head man. Every life you see here—” He gestured at the crowded trestle tables, at the men and the women and the children, eating and drinking and laughing. “—every life is in my hands. How can I make you understand that?”
“You don’t have to,” said Joseph. He looked even older, now, and very tired. “We understand already.” He flicked a glance at Serena, and at David. “Don’t we?”
“Yes,” said David. “Of course. Boaz, we want to help you, not hurt you.”
Boaz gave them all his hardest look. “You can help by doing what you’re told,” he said, then held out his hand to his son. Mikah’s fingers wrapped tight around it. “You will g
o home now. Joseph and Serena will mate, and David will sleep. I must stay here, and be told of the day’s work for the god. I will see you again in the morning.”
Without further speech Joseph pushed back his chair and stood. Serena and David followed him. As they filed out of the meeting hall, watched by hundreds of curious gazes, Boaz turned to his son.
Mikah’s eyes shone with tears. “I’m sorry, Papa,” he whispered. “I didn’t mean to anger you.”
“You didn’t,” he said, and kissed Mikah’s hand. “I promise. You are a good boy. I was angry at Joseph.”
“He is a strange human, Papa,” said Mikah. “I don’t understand him.”
“You don’t have to,” he replied. “You stay away from him, Mikah. He’ll end his days in the barley field with Ferek, and I’ll not have you plowed there with him.”
Mikah nodded. “Yes, Papa.”
With that settled, Boaz stood and picked up his hand bell. With its silver echoes dying around him and all the villagers falling silent he declared, “Now shall I hear the deeds done this day in the name of Yu, the Mighty and Everlasting!”
As Tomlan stood, to give an accounting of the smithing works, he felt himself smile with relief.
For the next while, at least, he could forget all about newcomers, and the trouble they dragged in their wake.
The moon was bright enough to comfortably see by. Unspeaking, they made their way back to Boaz’s house—their house—and let themselves in. Oil lamps burned, pooling the space beneath the thatched roof with warm, friendly light.
O’Neill closed the door behind them. Fell against it, palms pressed flat to his face, and said, muffled, “Jesus Christ Almighty.” He dragged his hands down and stared at the rest of his team. “And I mean that with absolute sincerity.”
It was a sparse bare box of a house. Nearly all bedrooms. With communal bathing facilities and a communal eating hall, what else was left? Just this little bit in the front here, with four wooden chairs and a table. Daniel sat down, and Carter followed his example.
She looked sick. “Did you see all the babies?” she whispered. “All the pregnant women? Some of them were practically children themselves, thirteen, fourteen. It’s so wicked.” She pressed trembling fingers to her mouth. “If I’d known Yu was responsible for this—”
“Get a grip, Carter,” O’Neill said. “You knew what we were heading into.”
“No, she didn’t,” said Daniel. He looked just as sick. “None of us did. Not really. This place is like the worst nightmares of the pre-Civil War South. It’s the most degrading kind of exploitation. And somehow the fact they’re well-fed, well-dressed, well-housed—in a crazy way it makes what’s happening here even more repugnant.”
“What’s repugnant,” said Carter, “is that it’s clear they think they’re serving a loving god.”
O’Neill was feeling pretty sick himself. Sick, and furious, and itching for a fight. “Hey. Both of you. Stay focused. Boaz is right about one thing—that bastard Hol’c is bad news.” He felt his skin shiver at the memory of the fire-brand. Saw the same memory skitter over Carter’s face, and Daniel’s.
“Did you see there isn’t a cemetery here?” said Daniel. “Does that mean what I’m really, really scared to think it means?”
“You heard Boaz,” he said. “If I don’t watch my step Hol’c will kill me and have me plowed into the barley field. So yes, Daniel. I’m pretty sure it means what you think it means.”
Carter dragged her fingers through her hair. “God. This place is a nightmare.”
He pushed away from the door. “Yes. It is. But it’s not our problem. We’re here to do a job, get out with our skins intact and then work our asses off to see that this place, and all the places like it, are put out of business permanently.”
“And how long will that take?” said Daniel. “Years. Decades, maybe, with this plan the Tok’ra have dreamed up. And in the meantime…”
“In the meantime, Daniel, unless you happen to stumble across a magic wand on one of your precious archaeological digs, the Tok’ra’s plan is the plan we’re stuck with,” he retorted. “Now that’s enough. I don’t want to have this conversation again. How are you coping without your glasses?”
Daniel shrugged. “Okay. It’s not like I’ll have a lot of reading to do while we’re here.”
“Good. Did you both manage to palm your Tok’ra communicators okay?”
“In my bitty bag,” said Carter.
“Mine too,” said Daniel.
“And I’m three for three,” he said, smiling without humor. “I should call Jacob. Someone better keep an eye out, just in case Boaz and Mikah come back.” He ducked into the bedroom Boaz had assigned him and Carter, tried not to look at the double bed, and retrieved his communicator. “Hey, Jacob, you there?” he said, wandering out again. Carter had positioned herself by the window, and was keeping an eye on the street. “Jacob, come in.”
A faint mushy hiss, then: “Jack? Thank God, Martouf and I were starting to worry. You all right? Sam? Daniel?”
“Oh, we’re all peachy,” he said. “You know, this is some seriously deep stinking crap you’ve landed us in here, Jacob!”
“Come on, Jack,” said Jacob, after a short pause. “You didn’t think you were taking a break at the local Goa’uld Club Med, did you?”
He felt a surge of anger. “Exactly how long have the Tok’ra known these—these—places existed? And why the hell haven’t you done something about them before now?”
“Do what, Jack?” said Jacob. “There’s nothing we can do, any more than the United States can ride in to every crappy dictatorship on Earth and liberate the local downtrodden masses. This is the way it is, my friend. This is how the Goa’uld play the game. How they’ve played it for thousands of years.”
“Yes! Because you’ve let them!”
Through the static, the sound of Jacob’s sigh. “Jack, we can argue Tok’ra foreign policy all you want once this mission’s over. But first it has to be over. How are you situated?”
“We’re living in the head man’s house, for now,” he said. “The three of us. And oh—yes—your daughter and I have been ordered to mate, thank you so very much!”
“I had to make sure at least two of you were together at consistent times,” said Jacob. “Don’t worry, Jack. You know I trust you.”
As Carter made an incoherent sound of outrage, O’Neill glared at the communicator. “Jacob, I swear to God, when this is over I am going to punch you on the nose!”
Jacob laughed. “Let me talk to Sam.”
He tossed Carter the communicator then dropped into the nearest empty chair and pulled a face at Daniel as she said, “And when he’s punched you on the nose, Dad, then it’ll be my turn!”
“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” said Jacob. “We’re on a tight schedule, we can’t afford to waste time with delayed communications.”
“Dad…” Her voice hitched. “It’s really awful here.”
A long silence. “I know,” said Jacob. “I’m sorry about that, too. But at least we’re doing something about it now, Sam. It may take time… it may take generations… but at least we’re doing something.”
“I’m worried it’s going to take us longer than a week to get past these people’s defences, past their—their brainwashing,” she said. “They’re terrified of that Jaffa, Hol’c, with good reason. And they absolutely believe that Yu is their god. I don’t see how we can undo that in a week.”
“Well, Sam, maybe you can’t,” said Jacob. “Maybe all you can do is plant the seeds of doubt, and leave it to someone else to reap the harvest at a later date. I don’t know. This is as much a fact-finding mission as anything else. You knew that going in.”
“Yeah? Well now I know the kind of life these people are living and I’m not so sure I can just wash my hands of them and walk away!”
Another Jacob sigh, shorter and sharper this time. “Let me talk to Jack again.”
Carter’s eyes were too
bright as she handed back the communicator. “I’m turning in,” she said shortly. “You and Dad go on having a nice chat.”
“Yeah, Jacob,” he said, as their bedroom door banged shut behind her. “Don’t worry, she’s okay. We’re just feeling a bit… tetchy. Our visit started with a spot of torture and it’s been downhill from there.”
“Torture?” The communicator’s mush couldn’t hide Jacob’s alarm. “After I ringed up, you mean? My God, Jack—”
“We’re fine, we’re fine,” he said quickly, regretting the impulse to shake Jacob up a bit. Indulge in a little payback. “It was… pretty minor. Just Hol’c letting us know who’s boss. Listen, I’d better go, Boaz could come back any minute. We’ll try and call you every night. There won’t be much hope through the day—sounds like we’ll be noses to the grindstone from sunup to sundown. And it’s too dangerous to keep the communicators on us. Will you and Martouf be all right up there?”
“We’re fine. We’ve got supplies and there’s no traffic, radio or ship. You worry about you, okay? Look, Jack, I know it’s only been a few hours but do you think there’s a chance you’ll be able to reach anyone there? Make any kind of meaningful contact?”
O’Neill thought of Boaz. Of Mikah. “Maybe. But it’s too soon to say. Call you tomorrow night, Jacob. O’Neill out.”
He slipped the communicator into his pocket and rested his folded arms on the table. Daniel said, “I get the feeling this is going to be the longest hardest week of our lives. And I’m not talking about the daily chores.”
He pulled a face. “Sorry you came?”
“Bitterly,” said Daniel, and he wasn’t joking. He looked lost. Stricken. The way he’d looked after Sha’re was taken. “The only way to make any of this right is to leave, now, come back with a hundred Goa’uld cargo ships and take every last person back home with us.”
