“I cannot.” Sha’re tried to shrug out of her grasp. “Let me go! I will not be a prisoner to you or anyone else, not ever again.”
Linea dug her fingers into the girl’s arm. “I do not wish you to go. I wish to…investigate the demon’s power.”
Alarm flickered in the girl’s eyes. “No! Na’nay, na’nay, I will not —”
A high-pitched thrumming sounded close by. Sha’re looked over Linea’s shoulder and her face paled. “Let me go!” She pulled wildly but Linea was stronger than her implied age. She held tight and turned to see what new element had been added to their situation.
A series of rings emerged from a shaft of light that apparently descended from the heavens. With a whoosh, the rings vanished upward, leaving in their place a man dressed in flamboyant gold clothes, with two others behind him, dressed the same as the dead Jaffa in the marketplace. Sha’re let out a despairing squeal and tugged furiously at her arm.
“Beloved!” The golden man stepped forward with a welcoming smile. He slowly became aware of the carnage around them and the smile slipped. “What has occurred here?”
The Jaffa behind him lowered their weapons, gold sparks spat from their ends to show they were charged.
Linea placed herself in front of the girl, still keeping a tight grip on her arm.
“A great illness has taken the lives of these villagers. This girl alone, survives.” Linea repressed a laugh at the concern that crossed the man’s face.
“Beloved, come to me,” he demanded.
“She will not,” Linea said softly.
For the first time, the man seemed to notice her. He studied her shrewdly. “You are not of this world. Unhand my consort.” The glowing weapons behind supported his demand.
Linea returned his calculating gaze. So this was an adult Goa’uld, inhabiting the body of a human. How interesting. She could understand why the earthers were so determined to defeat them. She would very much like to study them.
The man glared at her non-compliance, then lifted his hand. Wide gold bands wrapped his arm and wrist, and a glowing red jewel nestled in his palm. He brandished it like a weapon. Perhaps it was. Linea pulled the girl close behind her. Quickly, she switched their positions so that the pregnant belly of the girl stood between the gold man and herself. He bared his teeth in rage and sent a blast of energy from his palm jewel sizzling past her ear.
“Release her!”
Linea pursed her lips. Disappointing, but she had priorities. Now was not the time to engage these creatures. There would be plenty of time, once her experiments were completed on the Taldor.
“I have no interest in you or your woman. I will leave now. You may do as you wish.” To emphasize her point, she began to walk backward, angled toward the dialing device. She kept the struggling Sha’re between them.
The Goa’uld waved his guards down and followed them, matching step for step. They had only reached the drinking fountain when another sound broke the silence of the town. This time, Linea recognized the deep clunking of the Stargate’s chevrons engaging. The gate was coming alive.
Sha’re continued to struggle against the older woman’s grip. Blood dripped down her arm from the fingernails digging into her skin. She was furious with herself. She’d been so close to freedom. Had she moved quicker she would be gone, instead Apophis was here and her chances were shrinking with every second.
The sound of the Stargate gushing open drew all their attention. Incredibly, a contraption rumbled out of the wormhole. It stopped on the edge of the dais, one small piece on top turned from side to side as if it had eyes with which to see.
Behind them, she heard Apophis bark an order, and in seconds the ring transporter was whizzing down, depositing groups of Jaffa around their lord. Linea dragged her down behind the wall of the drinking well. The Jaffa scattered into cover as well, Apophis no doubt the first to hide.
A moment of silence. Then someone stepped through the Stargate. And another, then two more, and her heart seized as if some giant hand had reached into her chest and stolen her heart. Indeed, it had, for there on the platform stood her heart. Dressed in dull green, eye…glasses — that was the word — glinting in the fading sun, hair catching the evening breeze under the floppy hat — there stood Daniel Jackson. How tall he stands, he looks like a soldier, not my happy husband in his robes. Next to him was Colonel Jack, a little greyer than last she’d seen him. A woman stood with them, she looked familiar from the second time they’d come to Abydos. And sharing a friendly word with Danyel was Teal’c, the traitor. They looked to be friends. How curious.
Then it hit her. She was looking at Danyel. Sha’re opened her mouth to scream out to him, a warning, a welcome, she didn’t know what but nothing came out of her mouth. She gasped, tried again, but her voice was gone. She wrenched against her imprisonment, tried to throw herself around the concealing wall, but she could not move. Her muscles, her voice, they were no longer hers to control, and she knew — the demon was awakening. One last effort…she lurched forward and managed to unbalance Linea, who fell against the well and knocked a stone pot off the wall and into the water.
The small splash caused Danyel to look around. For a brief, stolen second she thought he looked right at her. His blue eyes seemed so close she could reach out and kiss them. Then the moment was gone. He ducked away and jumped off the dais as the Jaffa exploded out of cover and began to fire at the Tau’ri. Sha’re remained frozen behind the well as Colonel Jack fired his weapon over their heads at the Jaffa. She could see Teal’c at the dialing device. The Stargate belched open and they scrambled up and into the blue opening. Her last glimpse of Danyel was his lean body leaping into the wormhole. His boots disappeared and the gate shut down.
Gone. Her love was gone. Her chance at freedom was gone. Everything…was gone.
A shadow loomed over them. Apophis. He glared down at her, expression softening for a moment as he realized her demon was in control.
“We will leave now.” He grabbed her arm and pulled her away.
Sha’re felt a twinge in her belly. In the same moment she felt the demon’s presence fade, and once again she was herself. He is alive, she thought fiercely. He is alive. I am alive. We will meet again.
Linea casually sat on the well wall. “That was interesting,” she commented. She made no move to take possession of Sha’re once more.
“Leave my planet,” Apophis commanded. He touched a button on his arm-piece and the rings returned to sweep them away to his ship. He glanced at Sha’re. “I will hide you away where no one will ever think to look for you.”
Her final view of the planet was Linea, sitting on the wall, clutching her notebook to her bosom, her impassionate face watching them leave.
Left alone in silence, Linea sighed. The Goa’uld would wait for another time. She went to rifle through one of the market stalls for that last ingredient she needed. On one stall still laden with decaying vegetables she found it: potted in a gourd grew a little green herb with delicate purple flowers. She picked it up and inhaled the scent. So pretty. So deadly. She settled her bag across her shoulder and consulted the notebook for another world to visit. She picked one at random. The SGC notes said it was a world with an early development of technology. Good. These backwater undeveloped towns offered riches in the natural world, but a developing technology offered great opportunities for experimentation.
Linea walked toward the Stargate, looking forward to what the next day would bring.
Stargate Atlantis
Going Home
Aaron Rosenberg
This story takes place in season four of Stargate Atlantis, after the episode Midway.
“Are you sure this is safe?” Teyla Emmagan stared with some concern at the dark, dank underground entrance. The steps leading down to it were chipped and cracked and in many places discolo
red, and at its base she saw a shadowy figure huddled either in distress or perhaps lying in wait for the unwary. She shuddered and looked away.
“Yes, it’s safe,” John Sheppard growled. “It’s perfectly safe. It’s a thousand times safer than flying around in a Jumper, that’s for sure.”
“I can clear any obstacles,” Ronon offered, drawing his pistol.
Sheppard grabbed his wrist before he could completely free the long-barreled weapon from the confines of his coat. “How do you even have that?” he demanded, keeping his voice down and his body angled to block any passers-by from spotting the pistol. “We were supposed to leave any weapons behind.”
Ronon stared down at him, the hint of a sneer showing through his short beard. “I told them I would kill them if they tried to take my weapon from me. They wisely chose not to insist.”
Sheppard groaned and rubbed at his forehead. “Why did I think this would be a good idea?”
Behind him, he heard an all too familiar snort. “I’ll confess, I have absolutely no idea,” McKay replied. “But considering I don’t have any personal stake in this, I’m finding it absolutely priceless.” Rodney’s smirk was significantly less subtle than Ronon’s. “By all means, continue trying to tame the wild beast you thought it would be fun to take out on a walk through the city.”
Ronon directed his glare at Rodney. “Call me a beast again and I will show you exactly what —”
“Calm down. He’s just messing with you. Like usual.” Though, much as Sheppard hated to admit it, Rodney did have a point. Bringing Ronon and Teyla here was starting to look like a truly disastrous plan.
Not that he’d really had much choice in the matter…
“Lieutenant Commander,” called the gruff figure standing before the gate as Sheppard and his team emerged. “Welcome home.”
Sheppard saluted. “Thank you, sir.” Brigadier General Jack O’Neill was the man in charge of Homeworld Security — and the whole Stargate program. If it wasn’t for him, none of this would exist. On top of which, he was a brilliant leader and a force to be reckoned with.
Which didn’t change the fact that he had initially voted against Sheppard’s being part of the Atlantis Expedition — a fact that neither of them would ever forget. But they were both too professional to allow that little hiccup to interfere with their working relationship — or with the fact that they actually liked each other and saw eye to eye on a lot of things. In many ways Sheppard considered himself a younger version of O’Neill, and knew that there were far worse people to have as a role model.
“Ah, it’s good to be back,” Rodney declared, emerging from the gate and taking a deep, overly dramatic breath. He even made a point of pounding on his chest before turning to Sheppard with a grin. “Smell that? That’s Earth. You don’t get that scent anywhere else.”
Ronon stalked down the ramp right behind them. “The smell of old machines, oil and grease and electricity, and human sweat?” He wrinkled his nose. “Same as on Atlantis. Or any other equipment room ever.” He shouldered past Rodney to reach the floor and look around. His expression suggested that he was thus far unimpressed.
“Ronon Dex,” O’Neill held out his hand. “Good to see you again, son.”
For an instant nobody moved. Sheppard tensed, afraid there might be a problem — Ronon sometimes had a problem with people he felt were being overly familiar. And the big Satedan’s way of dealing with that problem, like most, involved violence. Then Ronon accepted the handshake and Sheppard sagged a little with relief.
“Fewer Wraith this time,” Ronon noted. “More politicians.”
O’Neill made a face. “Sorry about that, but the IOA likes to flex its muscles and after you saved their collective butt from the Wraith, they want to debrief you in person.” His gaze encompassed the whole team. “All of you. Don’t worry, we’ll get you out to D.C. straight away.”
“We can hardly wait, sir,” Sheppard managed with a straight face, earning him a disapproving look from Teyla.
But O’Neill only lifted an eyebrow, his eyes smiling. “On the plus side, Colonel, you’ll have time for a little R&R in D.C. afterwards…”
Sheppard answered with a smile of his own. “There is that.”
As it turned out, their appearance before the International Oversight Advisory proved less painful than Sheppard had feared: Ronon behaved, Teyla charmed, and Rodney managed to not insult anyone’s intelligence. Not that they heard, at least.
The scheduled four hours stretched to six — and felt like twenty — but finally it was over and the team was allowed to clamber to their feet and walk, stiff and tired, out of the committee room.
To Sheppard’s surprise, O’Neill was there to meet them. He carried a thick folder under his arm and a frown carved a deep line between his brows. Sheppard came to a wary attention. “Sir?”
O’Neill waved away the formality, scrubbing a hand through his grey hair. “’Fraid I’m gonna have to belay your furlough, soldier.” His expression suggested he did feel at least a little bad about it. “We’ve got a situation, and unfortunately all my other teams are out of action.” He made a face. “An off-world bug SG-3 picked up, and had the distinct discourtesy to pass around, has the SGC locked down. You and your team are the only ones I can put in the field fast enough. That’s why I’m here — figured the least I could do was meet you halfway.” He thrust the folder at Sheppard. “Read en route. There’s a chopper standing by at Andrews Field.”
“Sir?” Sheppard had taken the folder out of habit, and now glanced down at it. “Where are we going, exactly?”
For just a second, a smile touched O’Neill’s face before his usual stony expression swallowed it whole. “New York City,” he answered. “And you’d better hurry.”
Normally, aircraft weren’t allowed over the city, but clearly O’Neill had pulled strings because the chopper had set them down on atop one of the tall buildings at the island’s south end, in the Wall Street area. All of them had stared out the windows as the helicopter circled for a landing, transfixed by the sight of one of the Earth’s greatest cities.
“It’s so tall,” Teyla had marveled. “And so . . . uplifting. I mean, Atlantis has buildings this height, too, but this feels more . . . elegant, maybe?” She waved a hand at two impressive spires arrowing up from midtown: the Empire State Building and the Chrysler Building.
“It is elegant,” Rodney agreed. “New York City is one of the largest, most progressive, most significant cities in the world.” He puffed out his chest. “And, as a former resident of the Big Apple, I feel I am uniquely qualified to give you a full appreciation of the city’s finer points.”
Ronon’s brow furrowed. “You lived in an apple?” The big man was fearsome in combat, and a staunch friend, but subtleties in language sometimes escaped him.
“It’s a nickname,” Sheppard explained. “The Big Apple. The city that never sleeps. The city so good they named it twice. Gotham. Metropolis. It gets called all kinds of stuff.” He glanced at Rodney. “When did you ever live here?”
Rodney glanced down at his shoes. “Well, perhaps not ‘lived here,’ per se,” he admitted slowly. “But I have visited. Twice.”
Sheppard shook his head, but let his irritation slide as he gazed happily down at the teeming urban center they were rapidly approaching. “Gotta say, I’m not thrilled about being sent on some wild goose chase, but if it means getting to walk Manhattan for a few hours, I’m game. I can practically taste the pastrami now.”
Teyla was watching him closely. “What is pastrami?” she asked very seriously, and Sheppard laughed. But before he could answer the pilot came onto the comms they were all wearing.
“Setting you folks down now,” she reported. “I’ll be waiting here, fueled and ready — orders are to get you airborne and back to Andrews ASAP, where they’ll have a jet
to take you back to Colorado Springs. So no dawdling.”
Sheppard felt that last part was directed at him.
They’d made their way off the helipad to the building’s roof entrance, and from there to the elevators which had taken them to the ground-floor lobby. Fortunately, there was a subway entrance just a block away. Which was where they stood now, as Teyla wrinkled her nose and Ronon threatened to kill some poor old homeless guy. Sheppard sighed again.
Some R & R this was turning out to be.
“Who is this person we’ve been assigned to retrieve?” Teyla asked after they had successfully navigated the subway entrance.
Sheppard had worried that explaining Metrocards would prove difficult, but in the end that didn’t wind up being a problem; Ronon hurdled the turnstile without even slowing his pace, and Teyla followed suit. Sheppard only hesitated a second before shrugging and vaulting the bars as well, leaving Rodney behind to curse and complain as he dug in his pockets for the Metrocards the helicopter pilot had handed them, and then struggled to make the card reader acknowledge him. Finally, he had gotten through and the four of them had descended the steps to the platform itself.
Sheppard frowned, raking his hair back out of his face as he recalled the information from the dossier he’d flipped through en route. “She’s a scientist, name of Dr. Acuna…” He was distracted by Ronon, who was marching down to the platform’s far end, darting behind each column as he passed it. “Ronon, what the heck are you doing?” Sheppard muttered. But he was pretty sure he already knew the answer.
Sure enough, when the Satedan returned he reported, “All clear on that end.” He no doubt would have repeated the process in the opposite direction if Sheppard hadn’t reached out to block him.
STARGATE SG-1 ATLANTIS: Homeworlds : Volume three of the Travelers' Tales (SGX Book 5) Page 25
