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

by Sally Malcolm

  She had the rest of SG-1’s interest now too, their attention to the rite forgotten.

  “I don’t understand,” Daniel replied.

  Ser’náme’s face hardened. “The Tok’ra, in their infinite ingenuity, discovered a way to deactivate the harsesis gene before a child is born. If Tok’ra hosts insist a child be carried to term, it is required that the fetus undergo such a procedure. It is difficult to do, and very dangerous, for both the mother and the child, and not something undertaken lightly.”

  “Was not Saroosh host to Selmak prior to Jacob Carter?” asked Teal’c. “And had they not been together for nearly 200 years?”

  “One hundred and eighty-three,” clarified Ser’náme. “Kadon was Selmak’s host prior to Saroosh.”

  “So that would make you —” Jack was trying to do the mental math.

  “A great deal older than I look,” she supplied, curtly. “The one benefit of being Tok’ra-born which they could not take from me.”

  Daniel’s thoughts raced. If only he’d known about this procedure before — but no. He had found Sha’re too late. It would have changed nothing.

  “When was the last time you saw Selmak?” Sam’s question brought Daniel back to the present.

  Ser’náme shrugged with seemingly forced exaggeration. “Our paths last crossed many years ago. The encounter was brief and not particularly amicable.”

  “What about your mother — mothers?” Daniel wished they were somewhere less public where he could more easily ask all the questions that were popping into his mind. This was too much like whispering in church.

  “Killed. Both of them. Some undercover operation, trying to undermine Bastet, I believe. I was fairly young and no one ever told me all of the details.”

  “I’m sorry,” Daniel offered, but Ser’náme merely shrugged again. He wondered if it was a practiced indifference.

  “You cannot miss what you do not have, Dr. Jackson. I rarely saw my parents anyway. Duty is the first order, when you are Tok’ra.”

  “But you’ve stayed with them all these years?” This was yet one more side to the Tok’ra Daniel had never seen before today. He realized just how little they truly knew about their allies, even after all this time.

  “Hardly.” Ser’náme gave a small, bitter laugh. “I had no intention of wasting my life fighting the Goa’uld. I left as soon as I was old enough to fly a tel’tak, and I have been on my own ever since.”

  “No offense,” Jack interjected. “But it’s pretty clear you’re not especially fond of the Tok’ra — or Selmak, for that matter. So I’ve gotta ask — why are you even here?”

  “Jack —” Daniel’s attempt at admonishment was waved away by Ser’náme.

  “It’s all right, Dr. Jackson.” She leveled a steady look at Jack. “As I said, General. We are a duty-bound people. It is our tradition, and I had no choice but to come.”

  “Even after all these years?” Teal’c asked, picking up a bit on Jack’s incredulity.

  “Strange, isn’t it?” Her smile was not exactly warm.

  Over their shoulder, Ker’ai cleared his throat. Daniel looked up and saw Garshaw giving them a reprimanding stare from across the hall. Their private conversation had become a little too obvious.

  Duly chastised, Daniel and the others lapsed back into silence, but he could not concentrate on the chant. The ramifications of a Tok’ra harsesis were something he’d never before considered. If it worked the same way as with the Goa’uld — and there was no reason to believe otherwise — would such an offspring have the genetic memory of only the Tok’ra, or of the Goa’uld who predated them as well? Egeria, he knew, had instilled in her children the ethos that made them reject the ways of Ra and the System Lords. Would that be passed on to a Tok’ra harsesis or would it have to vie for control with the darker knowledge from the millennia of Goa’uld who preceded her? Would Egeria’s legacy, diluted by a generation and placed within a human mind, be strong enough to prevail? Or would it lose the battle, as he himself had, when Shifu had shown him what it was like to be tempted with such vast power?

  Daniel wasn’t sure the others fully grasped the implications of what Ser’náme had told them. They had obligingly turned their attention back to the antiphony, Ser’náme’s story probably little more than a curious footnote. And he supposed they were right. He was the one who was over-reacting. Any questions about a Tok’ra harsesis were, after all, merely academic at this point. Ser’náme wasn’t one, and that was the end of it. He needed to drop the matter and focus on the ritual before him, as the others were doing.

  Once he actually listened, Daniel found he could follow the chant fairly easily. Some of Selmak’s early efforts against a pre-ascended Anubis were being recounted. It was fascinating, really — so much of the Tok’ra history being retold. He knew Selmak had been a leader and much respected in his time, but Daniel hadn’t understood until now the extent to which Selmak had personally been responsible for so many of the Tok’ra’s accomplishments. The past 2000 years of galactic history was unfolding like an epic poem. Daniel felt like he should be writing it all down.

  He hoped, now that the conflict with the Goa’uld was behind them, he could get back to things like this. It was why he’d become an archeologist in the first place, and there was so much out there still to learn and discover. With Sam temporarily assigned to the Prometheus and Teal’c returning to the Free Jaffa Nation, there really wasn’t much point in his staying at the SGC any longer. Now that Atlantis was back on the grid, Daniel was determined to step up his pressure on Jack to be allowed to go. He’d already pored over most of the reports Elizabeth Weir had sent back, but nothing could substitute for actually being there.

  Right now, though, he had an excellent opportunity to learn more about Tok’ra history, if only he could pay attention. Apparently he wasn’t the only one having difficulty. Jack had already given up and was dozing. Teal’c’s gaze had a distant, glazed look to it, leaving Daniel to wonder if he hadn’t entered into a state of pseudo-Kel’no’reem. Only Ser’náme and Sam still gave the appearance of listening, although in Sam’s case Daniel was sure it was more out of courtesy than comprehension. Then there was Ker’ai, standing off to their right, whose focus seemed to be more on Ser’náme than anything else. Daniel wondered if maybe he hadn’t been told to keep an extra careful eye on her, given her less than filial feelings toward Selmak.

  After another hour or so, even Daniel began to feel restless. Sam started absently checking her watch every few minutes and Jack, periodically waking up, would clear his throat and shift position before nodding off again. It reached the point where Daniel thought he couldn’t endure another moment of sitting, when, to his relief, a chime echoed throughout the chamber. In response, the chanting momentarily swelled in crescendo and then stopped.

  Ser’náme stood and the rest of SG-1 followed suit, once Teal’c had nudged Jack awake. The chime sounded again, and Garshaw and the others began to slowly and silently file out of the room. As Ser’náme and SG-1 followed them, Daniel noticed Ker’ai remained behind, having stepped in front of the so’ros to serve as guard.

  The solemn procession brought them to yet another chamber. However, this one was well-lit and laid out with food and drink. The atmosphere here was relaxed. People stood in groups, their heads uncovered, talking and eating. It had all the earmarks of a party.

  “And this would be — ?” asked Jack looking around.

  “At the half-way mark, the Rite pauses so that we might refresh ourselves with nourishment and rest,” explained Garshaw, coming up to them. “Please, help yourself to the food and drink, and if you have need, we have prepared quarters where you might sleep a while, if you so require.”

  Ser’náme bowed slightly. “If you all will excuse me, I believe I will take advantage of this opportunity to rest.”

 
Garshaw’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she eventually returned the bow. “Of course. The chimes will alert you when the ceremony is to resume.”

  Without bothering to acknowledge the others, Selmak’s daughter left the room. Daniel was disappointed. There were so many things he had wanted to ask her. Perhaps later he would have a chance.

  “So. Tok’ra food —” Jack was eyeing the buffet table skeptically, after Garshaw too had walked away.

  “I do not think you will find it objectionable, O’Neill,” Teal’c assured him.

  “I guess this is the ‘wake’ part of the wake,” Sam said. “For some of us, anyway,” she tossed Jack a disparaging look. Apparently Daniel wasn’t the only one who’d caught him napping.

  The food was surprisingly appealing and Daniel tried a little of everything. Teal’c, likewise, filled his plate, although his selection seemed confined to mostly fruit.

  “Is that guango?” Daniel thought he recognized the morsel Teal’c had just popped in his mouth as the fruit Harry Mayborne had named.

  “I believe you are correct, Daniel Jackson.” He took another bite. “I highly recommend it.”

  Jack and Sam joined them, although going by the token servings on both their plates, neither was particularly tempted by the Tok’ra cuisine. There was no place to sit — apparently the Tok’ra were averse to chairs — so they stood, balancing their food and drink.

  As they ate, Daniel voiced his concerns about the significance of a Tok’ra harsesis. As he suspected, the others hadn’t realized the possible implications.

  “So you’re saying it could have been bad,” said Jack, frowning as he fished his finger around in his drink for what Daniel was sure was nothing.

  “Very bad.”

  “As bad as that Shifu kid might have been?” Jack looked up, shaking liquid off his finger.

  Sam nodded. “If, what Daniel says is true, then yes, at least as bad — possibly much worse.”

  “Well, chalk one up for Tok’ra science, then,” quipped Jack with a slight fist pump.

  “Are not these concerns unwarranted, Daniel Jackson?” asked Teal’c, finishing the last piece of fruit on his plate. “I fail to see what threat Ser’náme herself poses. She is, after all, not harsesis.”

  Teal’c was right, of course. Daniel didn’t know why he was still dwelling on it — aside from the fact that it brought up a slew of memories he’d tucked away a long time ago. The Tok’ra undoubtedly knew what they were doing, and, at least on this matter, second-guessing them was completely counter-productive.

  Garshaw eventually rejoined them and explained what would happen next. Apparently the rite would continue as before with more chanting, after which they would carry the so’ros outdoors so that, at the moment of sunrise, it could be placed in the Arc’tum. Once the Arc’tum was returned to its sanctuary, the ceremony would be concluded.

  “The Tok’ra are grateful to you, Colonel Carter, for allowing us this opportunity to honor Selmak in this way,” Garshaw told her. “I know he and the High Council did not always see eye to eye in later years, but we would like to believe that our bonds remained strong, in spite of our disagreements.”

  “My father assured me that Selmak had no objection to being returned to the Tok’ra should such an invitation be extended.” The coolness in Sam’s voice was evident to everyone, including Garshaw. According to Sam, the Tok’ra had tried to mend fences when her father was on his deathbed, and while Jacob had been accommodating, he’d made Sam promise not to completely let them off the hook. Daniel thought she managed to do that quite well. Even Garshaw had the sense to look abashed.

  The chimes announced that it was time to resume the ceremony. As his eyes adjusted to the lack of light, Daniel saw that Ker’ai still stood vigil in front of the so’ros. If he had to guess, he’d say the man hadn’t twitched so much as a finger the entire time they’d been gone.

  As they took their places, there was no sign of Selmak’s daughter. Daniel shot Sam a questioning look, but she just shrugged. Across the way, whispered concerns began amongst Garshaw and the others.

  “Can’t they begin without Ser’náme?” Sam asked Ker’ai, who had relocated to his former spot beside them.

  “It is up to Garshaw.”

  Looking displeased, Garshaw nevertheless seemed inclined to proceed, as she nodded toward the cantor who raised his cowl. The others did likewise and the recitation of Selmak’s life began again.

  “I will look for her,” Ker’ai whispered, but to Daniel’s surprise, Sam shook her head.

  “No — I think I should go. They won’t mind, will they?”

  Ker’ai’s hesitation suggested that they might, in fact, mind very much, but Sam didn’t give him a chance to object. “Which way?” she asked, and Ker’ai tilted his head toward the nearest arched exit.

  Nodding her thanks, and ignoring Jack’s whispered “Carter?”, Sam slipped out. Daniel wondered if someone ought to go with her, but realized it probably would look bad if any more of them left. He had a feeling Sam wanted to do this alone. She would be fine. After all, he was the one who’d argued about how safe they were here.

  One glance at Jack, though, and Daniel realized how ineffectual that argument had been. And if he were being honest, deep down in his gut, Daniel wasn’t sure he completely bought it either.

  Sam usually didn’t give much credence to hunches, but when she arrived at the quarters one of the Tok’ra had identified for her as having been assigned to Ser’náme, she wasn’t a bit surprised to find them empty. And not just devoid of Ser’náme herself, but of all signs that anyone had ever been there or intended to return.

  Somehow she’d just had a feeling.

  She was having another one now. Ser’náme had mentioned flying a tel’tak. Sam needed to find where the ships were kept.

  Another helpful Tok’ra gave her directions. The air outside was cool and fresh, and Sam realized just how many hours they’d been cooped up inside the pyramid. She supposed she’d better get used to it again. The prep work over the past few weeks had afforded her the opportunity to spend a fair amount of time topside, but with that done, the Prometheus’ orders were to push the boundaries of known space in their galaxy. It might be a month or more before she had a chance to breathe anything but recycled air again.

  Not that she wasn’t excited to go — it had been a while since she’d been able to devote so much time just to pure science. But it was one more change amidst so many other recent changes in her life — in all their lives, really. It was going to take some getting used to.

  With twin moons overhead to light the way, Sam had no problem finding the Tok’ra’s equivalent of an airfield, although trudging through the sand in her regulation pumps had her longing for her combat boots. Several dozen ships of various shapes and sizes were lined up in neat rows, their hulls reflecting the moonlight. Scanning them, Sam spotted one with its interior lit. It was a tel’tak — and someone was on board.

  In a way, Sam could empathize with Ser’náme. Had things not worked out as they had, she herself might have been in the same situation, left with only bitter words spoken in anger and regrets enough for the rest of her life. There was a certain irony that she had Selmak to thank for the very things which he seemed incapable of giving his own daughter. Sam doubted that anything she might say to Ser’náme would make a difference, but she felt she had to try.

  It must not have occurred to Selmak’s daughter that anyone would follow her, because the exterior door was not secured. It had barely shut behind Sam when the door in the bulkhead opened and Ser’náme appeared. She pulled up sharply and gaped.

  “What are you doing here?” Her tone suggested that she had been expecting someone, Sam realized. Just not her.

  “I thought you’d want to know.” Sam gestured vaguely in the direction of the pyramid.
“They’ve resumed the Rite of Hak’tyl.”

  Ser’náme glanced uneasily over her shoulder into the bridge before stepping fully into the cargo bay and slapping the panel, shutting the door behind her. But not before Sam glimpsed a familiar box on the floor of the bridge.

  “Is that Selmak’s so’ros?” So much for trying to be sympathetic. But how could it be the so’ros? When she’d left the hall, it had still been on the pedestal, exactly where she and Ser’náme had placed it. Not to mention that Ker’ai had been guarding it the whole time.

  Or had he?

  Ser’náme eyed Sam appraisingly and finally countered, “And if it is?”

  Sam’s eyes narrowed. “Then I guess I’d want to know why you took it — and why you replaced it with what I presume is an empty one.”

  Ser’náme sniffed. “Maybe, like you, Colonel Carter, I would prefer to keep my father’s remains close to me, rather than entrust them to the Tok’ra.”

  Sam shook her head. “I highly doubt that. Why would you care now, when you couldn’t be bothered when he was alive?”

  Ser’náme’s response came in the shape of the zat she withdrew from behind her and aimed at Sam. “I don’t. At least, not in the way you mean it.”

  Sam sighed. She should have seen this coming. “Ker’ai helped you, didn’t he?” It was the only way she could have stolen the box. The pieces were falling into place now. “That’s who you were expecting — not me.” Maybe they’d been going to run away together, although, relatively speaking, Ker’ai seemed awfully young.

  “It isn’t what you think.” Ser’náme’s voice shook slightly. “When he was a boy, I saved his life by bringing him to the Tok’ra. He’s like —”

  “A son?” Sam supplied. Ser’náme didn’t answer, but her silence did. “They’re going to realize you switched the boxes, you know. When they go to put it in the Arc’tus. Ker’ai will be the first one they suspect.”