STARGATE SG-1 ATLANTIS: Homeworlds : Volume three of the Travelers' Tales (SGX Book 5)

by Sally Malcolm

  Oh yeah. The sooner this day was over with, the better.

  “Hold on, are those actually…buildings?” Daniel Jackson was shielding his eyes against the setting sun to get a better look at the vast plain stretching in front of them. In the forefront was an immense pyramid, the hallmark of almost every Goa’uld home world Teal’c had been to. But behind it rose several dozen structures — if one could call them that — which were anything but Goa’uld in design. From this distance they more aptly resembled a collection of stunted crystals which a child might have haphazardly placed in the sand. But using the pyramid as a frame of reference, Teal’c could gauge their height, and there was nothing child-sized about them.

  “They are only in their early stages of growth. It will be some time before the structures are fully formed and habitable.” Their Tok’ra escort, Ker’ai, paused to allow them a moment to appreciate the sight. A tall man with evidence of some prior trauma marking his face, he had been awaiting them at the designated rendezvous planet. Although pleasant in disposition, he had nonetheless refused to reveal their final destination, dialing the Stargate out of their line of sight to further conceal the gate address. The frustration on O’Neill’s face had been most apparent.

  “Wait — you’re saying you actually grow buildings? From crystals?” There was no missing the hint of excitement in Colonel Carter’s voice. “I didn’t know you could do that.”

  “It is a much slower process than excavating tunnels,” Ker’ai explained. “And it is only feasible on certain planets, as massive quantities of a certain mineral in the soil are required.”

  “Silica,” offered Colonel Carter.

  The Tok’ra nodded. “In time, this will become a great city.”

  “A city,” Daniel Jackson repeated, sounding surprised.

  Teal’c understood why. “That would suggest that the Tok’ra have no intentions of leaving this place.” To the best of his knowledge, the Tok’ra had always been a nomadic people — a necessity of their resistance against the Goa’uld.

  A disconcerted look passed briefly over Ker’ai’s scarred face. “So it would.”

  “You do not approve?”

  “The defense provided by the tunnels are all we have ever known. It will be an adjustment to live a life so — exposed.”

  “But that’s good, right?” Daniel Jackson’s enthusiasm was undiminished. “That the Tok’ra finally feel secure enough to build a stable, permanent society?”

  “It is my experience, Dr. Jackson, that what can be built up, can also be torn down,” the Tok’ra replied, but then, forcing a smile, added, “But yes. Soon, perhaps, the Tok’ra will no longer live life in the shadows.” He glanced at the box Colonel Carter carried and then at the fading light. “Please come now. The Rite of Hak’tyl must begin at sundown.”

  Teal’c contemplated the distant buildings a moment longer, allowing the others to walk ahead. In many ways, the Tok’ra were not unlike the Jaffa now: two societies faced with the task of having to redefine themselves in the wake of their ultimate success. These structure were as symbolic as they were practical, in much the same way as choosing Dakara was symbolic for the Free Jaffa Nation. Neither was a small undertaking, as Ker’ai’s reticence demonstrated, but without a vision on which to anchor the future, how could either expect to move forward?

  It was a conversation he and Bra’tac had had many times these past few months, as his old mentor continued to press him to help the Jaffa shape that vision. Teal’c had, in his own way, been as reticent as Ker’ai, but for different reasons. Abandoning his friends was not a decision he had taken lightly, and when he had, at last, chosen, it was not without a sense of great loss. But, as he had read in one of the books Daniel Jackson had given him, there was a season to everything, and he knew his season with the Tau’ri was at its end. Oddly, seeing how the Tok’ra were embracing their new role gave him comfort with his decision. It was time for him to move forward as well.

  The others were already well ahead of him, although it would not take him long to catch up. Teal’c was certain of their destination. The great pyramid loomed before them, its dense stone in sharp contrast to the translucent crystalline structures growing around it. Weathered by wind and sand, a remnant of some Goa’uld long forgotten, it seemed an apt symbol of the past.

  And, perhaps, a reminder of how unyielding that past could be.

  “The Rite of Hak’tyl.” Daniel Jackson was saying, as Teal’c rejoined them. “Hak’tyl means ‘liberation’, doesn’t it?”

  “It does, Daniel Jackson.” Teal’c replied, falling into step with him. “Which is why it was the name chosen by Ishta for her warriors. But I have also heard it used when speaking of death. It refers to the releasing of the spirit into the universe so that it might continue on its journey.”

  “Teal’c is correct,” Ker’ai said over his shoulder as they walked. “For the Tok’ra, the traditional Rite of Hak’tyl begins with a funeral pyre, into which the body is placed. Afterwards, the ashes are gathered into a so’ros and set in a place of reverence for all to see. Then, beginning at sundown, songs are sung of the deceased’s accomplishments until sunrise the following day, at which time the so’ros is either consumed by the vortex of an activating chaapa’ai or, for those such as Selmak, placed in the Arc’tus.” He glanced again at the box in Colonel Carter’s hands. “Obviously, under the circumstances, the first part of the rite will be unnecessary.”

  “So, basically, it’s a wake,” remarked O’Neill. He had been remarkably silent thus far.

  “A wake is an Earth custom in many cultures,” Daniel Jackson quickly explained when Ker’ai appeared perplexed. “It’s a sort of social gathering among family and friends of the deceased, meant to honor their memory and celebrate their life.”

  The Tok’ra nodded. “A close approximation.”

  “What exactly is the Arc’tus?” asked Colonel Carter. It was not a term Teal’c was familiar with either.

  “The Arc’tus is our most treasured relic — made even more so now that it holds the ashes of our beloved queen, Egeria. It has traveled with us wherever we have gone, and only those Tok’ra who have been our most venerated leaders are given a place of honor within it. There is no greater symbol of the Tok’ra’s esteem than to be chosen for this.”

  “Oh really?” Teal’c could detect a high degree of skepticism in O’Neill’s tone. “Esteem, you say?”

  “I’m sure Selmak would have appreciated the honor,” Colonel Carter interjected before O’Neill could speak further. “As would my father.”

  If O’Neill had intended to say more, the pointed look which Colonel Carter directed his way appeared to make him reconsider. Daniel Jackson cast a relieved glance over his shoulder at Teal’c, who concurred. Considering O’Neill’s unrelenting distrust of the Tok’ra, it would, perhaps, be for the best if his opinions remained unspoken.

  Two Tok’ra stood guard at the entrance to the pyramid, neither of them acknowledging Ker’ai or the visitors as they entered. Teal’c did note that they were armed, which was to be expected, and for a moment he too felt the sense of vulnerability that O’Neill had expressed upon their departure. It swiftly passed, however, once the door had closed and Ker’ai was leading them down a well-lit corridor.

  The pyramid was unusually plain. The walls were of unadorned stone — no sign of the ornate gold-encrusted décor so coveted by the Goa’uld — and there was a clean, simple feel to the place. Either the former occupant had been one of the less affluent Goa’uld, or the Tok’ra had seen fit to strip it of its excesses.

  Ker’ai brought them to a modest-sized chamber from which several more corridors led in various directions, like spokes of a wheel. No others were in sight, but Teal’c could hear muffled activity coming from elsewhere.

  “Please wait here. I will tell them you have arrived so that the rite
may begin.” The Tok’ra disappeared down one of the passageways.

  O’Neill let out a sigh, as if he had been holding his breath the whole time.

  “Jack?”

  “Daniel?”

  The two faced each other.

  “It’s probably best if we don’t insult our hosts to their face.”

  “Did I say anything?”

  “Technically — no. But sometimes it’s the way you don’t say anything.”

  O’Neill screwed up his face in irritation. “See — if I even knew what that meant, I’m sure I’d have a pithy response.”

  “I won’t deny, it is a bit hypocritical that they’re honoring Selmak this much, considering how they mostly shunned him these last months,” Colonel Carter remarked, bluntly. “Especially considering they wouldn’t even be here if he and my Dad hadn’t smuggled us some of their technology.”

  “There!” replied O’Neill. “You see? I’m glad someone else noticed. But that’s the Tok’ra for you — always talking out of their —”

  “Please — do not underestimate the true affection we feel toward Selmak, or Jacob Carter. I assure you, our esteem for them both is most sincere.”

  A tall, dignified woman, accompanied by Ker’ai and a small entourage, had quietly come up behind them from one of the corridors. Teal’c recognized the woman.

  “Garshaw.” Colonel Carter’s face reddened at the realization that their conversation had most likely been overheard.

  The woman smiled and bowed her head in greeting. She was little changed from the first time they had met her, which was to be expected. Her host, Yosuuf, seemed not to have aged a day.

  “It is good to see you again, Colonel Carter. General O’Neill. Dr. Jackson. Teal’c. The years and the losses have been far too many since last we met.”

  “It’s good to see you too.” Daniel Jackson’s smile was sincere. “We didn’t know…I mean, no one ever mentioned —” They had not interacted with Garshaw since their initial encounter with the Tok’ra. But then, comprehending the ever-changing leadership of the Tok’ra had been its own challenge. In the midst of so much secrecy, her fate had been, until now, unknown.

  “Yes, I am still very much alive, and grateful to be able to regret my doubts about the Tau’ri which I expressed at our first encounter.”

  “Well, far be it from us to say we toldcha so —” O’Neill began, edgily.

  “Indeed you did, General. But please — let us save such fond reminiscing for another time.” There was a sarcastic edge to her tone that none of them missed, including O’Neill, who oddly seemed to appreciate it. Garshaw smiled and continued, “Today we come together for a far more noble purpose: to pay tribute to Selmak of Indaara and Jacob Carter of Earth.”

  Garshaw moved aside and another woman stepped forward. Teal’c could not begin to guess her age. She was certainly not young, but neither did she appear old. There was, however, a wariness in her eyes with which he was familiar, one which suggested that experience, as much as time, had taken as much as it had given.

  “And of course, here is Ser’náme, who will be joining you, Colonel Carter, in the place of honor tonight.”

  Ser’náme barely acknowledged the introduction, saying nothing. Her deliberate gaze, however, assessed each of them in turn, her attention lingering longest on Colonel Carter.

  “Were you a close friend of Selmak?” Colonel Carter finally broke the uncomfortable silence.

  The wariness in Ser’náme’s eyes intensified. “I would not exactly call us friends. I had not seen him in many, many years.”

  Yet another awkward silence was interrupted by Yosuuf, who appeared slightly flustered and apologetic.

  “I’m sorry, Colonel. But, I thought surely — are you not aware of who Ser’náme is?”

  “Actually, I’d have been more surprised if she did know.” Ser’náme’s tone was cool and indifferent. “Or if Selmak had ever mentioned me at all, considering we have been estranged most of my life. You see,” she clarified, in response to Colonel Carter’s obvious bewilderment. “I am Selmak’s daughter.”

  Daniel was brimming with questions, but Garshaw hustled them off down one of the corridors, allowing no time to process the bombshell Ser’náme had dropped.

  “Carter?” Jack’s voice was low enough for only SG-1 to hear.

  Sam shook her head, her eyes wide with surprise. “I had no idea.”

  Jack growled something unintelligible, but his meaning was fairly clear. There seemed to be no end to the Tok’ra’s secrets. And as far as secrets went, this one had the potential to be enormous. Daniel wasn’t sure Jack fully comprehended what the implications of it were just yet. He wasn’t even sure he did.

  They were ushered into a dim, low-ceilinged hall into which several dozen Tok’ra had already gathered. At Garshaw’s direction, escorted by Ker’ai, Sam and Ser’náme placed the box — the so’ros — upon a cloth-draped pedestal in the center of the room. Without speaking, Ker’ai motioned all five of them to take their place behind, where two rows of cushioned stools awaited. Apparently no one else was expected to sit, as they were the only seats Daniel could see.

  Still standing — because no one had indicated they do otherwise yet — Daniel took in the rest of the hall. The Tok’ra were attired in coarse robes of various shades of brown and gray, and as they pulled the cowls up over their heads, their faces descended further into shadow. The room itself was lit only with torches and candles. The erratic light thrown across the dark, hooded figures put Daniel in mind of a medieval monastery — even more so when a low chanting began.

  “What the hell?” muttered Jack, under his breath.

  “It is a recounting of the life of Selmak,” explained Teal’c, after listening for a few moments. “Beginning with his spawning by Egeria.”

  “Wait — wasn’t Selmak, like, 2000 years old?” hissed Jack, realizing the implications.

  “Indeed.”

  Jack groaned.

  “We are not required to stand the entire time,” Ser’náme whispered. She and Sam were in front of them. “Although it is expected until the recitation of the names of Selmak’s hosts is complete. When they begin to tell of his many and wondrous deeds, we may sit.” There was an edge of sarcasm in her voice. Whether it was for Selmak, the ritual, or both, Daniel wasn’t sure.

  Personally, he found the rite itself enthralling. He had never really viewed the Tok’ra this way before. They had their traditions and their culture, of course, but as far as Daniel knew, this was the first time anyone from Earth had been included in something so intimate. It made sense that, with the establishment of a permanent home world, the Tok’ra would begin to embrace their cultural identity more deeply. Having to flee at a moment’s notice from attacking Goa’uld would have made maintaining formal ceremonies difficult at best. With that threat now removed, it would be fascinating, from an anthropological perspective, to observe Tok’ra society evolve. The opportunities for discoveries like this across the galaxy — across many galaxies — now that Earth was relatively safe, were limitless.

  The thought of it made his heart beat faster.

  Daniel didn’t realize that they’d come to the end of the names of Selmak’s hosts until he saw the others settle into their seats. He quickly joined them.

  “So this goes on all night?” Sam asked Ser’náme, quietly.

  “Tedious, is it not?” She grimaced. “But then, what do you expect? The Tok’ra never have been able to let go of the past. It is our worst failing.”

  “Then, you yourself are Tok’ra?” Daniel leaned forward, so as not to speak too loudly himself. All the questions he’d put on hold when the chanting had begun came rushing back now.

  “That depends upon your definition, Dr. Jackson. Physiologically, I am human. Just like all of you. Well —
except for you.” She indicated Teal’c.

  “You don’t have a symbiote,” Sam said. Of course, she would have picked up on that.

  “No, I do not.”

  The hairs on the back of Daniel’s neck prickled. If she didn’t have a symbiote —

  “So, if Selmak was your dad — how does that work, exactly?” Jack leaned in to join the whispered conversation. Daniel’s stomach tightened. Leave it to Jack to ask the six million dollar question without realizing it.

  Ser’náme sighed heavily, as if this were a question she had grown weary of answering. “A human by the name of Kadon was my biological father. He was blended with Selmak when I was conceived and born. My biological mother was a woman name Pria. She was host to Selmak’s mate, Ja’nok. I had, in essence, two sets of parents.”

  “I guess it never occurred to me that the Tok’ra actually had children,” Sam reflected.

  “They do not,” Ser’náme replied. “At least, they are not supposed to.”

  A chill passed through Daniel. That was it, then, just as he’d feared. “Then you are harsesis,” he concluded. “Or, at least the Tok’ra version of one.”

  “No!” Ser’náme’s response was swift and vehement. It earned them all a sharp glance from Ker’ai, who was standing nearby. “I am not harsesis.”

  “But if both your parents were hosts — how is it any different than with the Goa’uld?” Daniel tried to keep his voice low, yet loud enough to be heard over the chanting which had now progressed to a sort of antiphon between the primary chanters and the rest of the assembly.

  “There is no difference. And had nature been allowed to take its course, I would have been harsesis.” She turned to face him and Daniel could see a flash of anger in her eyes. “But unlike the Goa’uld, who merely kill any child born to host parents, the Tok’ra have devised a far worse fate for theirs.”