City of the Gods

by Stargate

  " Tonatui has not yet arrived, Lord, that is why I beg your forgiveness for not properly attending your arrival."

  Daniel Jackson moaned under his breath. "Great," he mumbled. " Tonatui was the god of the sun."

  Teal'c's frown deepened. Many Goa'uld appeared to share this world. Most unusual.

  The foul smelling priest glanced nervously at the body on the ground. "We did not expect.. .we did not... More than thirty thousand xochimiqui will give up their hearts during Nemontemi so that our Lord God Tonatui can continue to sustain this world. Another thirty thousand have been promised to His Greatness, Lord Tzcatlipoca. But if it is Quetzalcoatl's wish - "

  "Do not presume to know the wishes of Quetzalcoatl," Teal'c bellowed, cutting off his words.

  Daniel Jackson's agitation was evident as he explained, "Xochimiqui means sacrificial prisoners acquired during a Flower War. That means sixty thousand people will be sacrificed during Nemontemi to just two gods."

  "You!" Daniel Jackson pointed to the one who talked. "Take us to Lord Tzcatlipoca. The rest of you, bring the apprentice, Heart-eater, to us so that we might hear his words."

  Teal'c took careful note of their route as they followed the fire priests through a complex series of corridors and narrow walkways. The walls were covered in bright, bold murals. The meticulous detail of the paintings, the cleanliness inside the structure and the order in which it was kept - no scuff marks on the whitewashed walls, no chips or scratches in the carvings - seemed at odds with the dour, ill-smelling men who led them.

  "This is definitely a temple dedicated to Quetzalcoatl," said Daniel Jackson. "But he was one of only two Aztec gods - the other was Chalchiuhtlicue - who never accepted human sacrifice. The priests dedicated to him were always clean and welldressed as a mark of respect." His frown deepened. "And why would Coatlicue allow these people to continue to worship Quetzalcoatl, when she hated him?"

  "Perhaps she was unable to force them to abandon all of their beliefs."

  Every cornerstone in the tunnel featured a carving of a snake's head with a circlet of feathers. Daniel Jackson ran his hand across the surface of one. "Quetzalcoatl as the Olmec feathered serpent. He purportedly used a number of avatars, one of which was a white-skinned man."

  When he and Daniel Jackson emerged from the pyramid, the disturbing feelings that had been with Teal'c since they had arrived, intensified.

  "Atchoo!" Daniel Jackson rubbed his eyes and nose even as he looked around in wonder. It was not the fire priest alone who carried the stench of death. There was something more. Less chemical than the smell that had pervaded the air in Mexico, it was nevertheless distinctive and unforgettable. "Oh, great," added Daniel Jackson nasally. "This place smells exactly like Netu."

  "I agree."

  Daniel Jackson looked at him over his glasses. "As I recall, you didn't have the pleasure."

  "The journey from Netu to Earth was lengthy, and the teltak was... small."

  The fire priest walked ahead of them along a wide avenue. At the far end, perhaps a mile and a half away, was a structure similar to the Pyramid of the Moon at Teotihuacan. Behind the pyramid, bleak, snow covered hills glowed with an artificial warmth from the overhead planet. Beyond the hills, a tall volcano lit the clouds with a pulsating ruby light. They had indeed arrived at the valley next to where the Stargate lay submerged.

  "This is incredible!" Daniel Jackson spoke softly so that the fire priest could not hear. "The Adosada platform on the Pyramid of the Feathered Serpent - Quetzalcoatl - is missing but it's otherwise identical to the one on Earth. And the Avenue of the Dead, the Pyramids of the Sun and Moon, they're in the same configuration as Teotihuacan."

  "These pyramids differ somewhat to those in Mexico, Daniel Jackson."

  "The pyramids on Earth have largely been rebuilt, arguably with more enthusiasm than accuracy. These could well be exact replicas of the originals." He shook his head. "What I don't understand is why the Omeyocan chose a moon in an unstable orbit as a sanctuary world."

  "Perhaps the orbit was not unstable when they chose it."

  "The skull network must have been abandoned." Daniel Jackson looked back along the Avenue.

  "I saw no crystal skull in the cavern in which we arrived."

  "Me neither. It must be hidden somewhere nearby."

  In the streets leading off the Avenue, two-storey, boxlike structures vied for space in the cramped confusion typical of any overcrowded city. Unlike the barren ruin of Earth, this Teotihuacan was a living, vibrant community. Lamplight flickered in windows, a baby cried, interrupting the call of nighttime crea tures, and water trickled from the fountains. It all appeared peaceful, deceptively peaceful, for despite its order, Teal'c sensed an underlying wrongness that had been triggered by something more than the stench of terror and death. Something else, something he could not yet identify, had provoked in him a sense which he had believed himself long since free.

  Teal'c felt fear.

  CHAPTER NINE

  am had expected to see a few pyramids similar to the ones on Orban, but Xalo was an entire city of ziggurats, and the scale was breathtaking. The double pyramid from which they had emerged was over two hundred feet tall. A pair of oversized steps angled steeply up the face of the structure, and enormous carved snakes wound along the balustrades of the tiered platforms. Another bad sign, or were snakes an integral part of Aztec culture? A persistent headache - too little sleep broken by a troubled dreamscape, and the visceral impact of the skull cave, conspired to blunt Sam's distinction between her own memories and those imposed upon her.

  Any hope of stealth had evaporated the moment the children stepped out into the light. Despite the distractingly awesome architecture, Sam watched the shadows, alert for anything from armed Aztec warriors to whatever constituted demons on this world. But they managed to herd the children, too terrified of the dark or just too bone weary to make any noise, across the plaza unchallenged. Only the sudden silence of the cicadas and frogs announced their presence.

  A day and a half earlier the gaseous bands of clouds that made up the planet's atmosphere had been pastel blue and lilac. Now they were streaky crimson and sienna. The volcanic dust in the atmosphere must have increased markedly in the twenty-four hours they'd been in the tunnel.

  Despite the architectural simplicity of the buildings, they bore an air of dignity and ageless permanency, and there was nothing plain about their appearance. Everything seemed to have been dipped in shades of copper and gold. No doubt the crepuscular light exaggerated the hues, but Xalo was a city that worshipped the colors of the sun. Lush plants and paintings on the buildings broke the Euclidian angularity with splashes of green, aqua and blue. Everything had an almost reverentially cared-for look. The only indication of anything amiss was the slightly different hue of still-drying paint on sections of the walls, and here and there, the paved plaza showed cracks and newly replaced cobblestones. Despite the obvious ability of the structures to withstand all but the most intense earthquakes, Xalotcan's erratic orbit around Meztli was leaving its mark.

  "Sir," she whispered. "Have you noticed how orderly everything appears? Maybe the children exaggerated how bad things were."

  "You ever see one of Saddam Hussein's palaces?" he whispered back.

  Sam grimaced. Point taken.

  At the palace walls, the older children scrambled over the top, and then helped the youngsters up. Sam was lifting Two-water to White-owl when she saw the jaguars. They came from nowhere and everywhere at once, walking upright, silently approaching from the shadows. "Colonel!"

  "I see `em." He all but tossed the last child up, and then, with the practiced familiarity of a hundred hostile encounters, swung his P90 around and stood beside her with his back to the wall.

  They weren't jaguars, but men dressed in jaguar skins. Sam was certain that she and the Colonel could take them all out and make it back to the double pyramid. Assuming White-owl was right about the taboo, they'd be safe from pursuit once they reached
the tunnel. But despite their impressively frightening appearance, the men didn't seem hostile, and between the large fanged jaws enclosing their faces, they were... smiling? The grandness of the city reminded Sam that, while the Aztec religion had been shockingly brutal, the people had lived in a highly sophisticated and law-abiding society, one that arguably surpassed Rome in its splendor and influence. This wasn't Earth, but very little seemed to have been lost in the translation - or the passage of time. "Sir? I can sense the presence of Goa'uld...but I don't think they intend to hurt us."

  "Jaffa?" he suggested.

  "Jaguar warriors!" White-owl declared happily. The other children squealed in delight.

  "Okay, guys," said O'Neill. "We don't want any trouble here."

  "It is Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtlicue!" White-owl called out to the warriors. "They came through the Chappa'ai."

  The warriors hesitated, then one pointed to Sam's hair, and declared, "The boy speaks true; it is Chalchiuhtlicue!"

  "We come in...peace?" The Colonel lowered the muzzle of his P90 a fraction.

  From that point on, things went remarkably well. The children, now officially freed slaves, were welcomed into the Emperor's grounds by the captain of the jaguar warriors, a middle-aged man named Atlatl. Like the other Jaffa, Atlatl carried a vibrantly patterned shield and a long, feather-tipped spear that looked more ceremonial than practical. His jaguar skin suit had been stitched together with such craftsmanship that only his hands and feet, and the lower part of his face were visible. "Imagine trying to go the bathroom in one of those things?" muttered O'Neill.

  In Sam's admittedly limited experience, children were not good at pretence, especially when they were tired. Their delight at seeing the warriors was genuine. Each man collected a child in his arms and moved off along a pebbled path, hugging and smiling at them with all the affection of besotted fathers.

  "Come," Atlatl said to her and the Colonel. "We will take the children to where they can rest. You do them a great honor. You do all of us a great honor by returning them to us on the eve of Nemontemi."

  "Now, see, about that -" began the Colonel.

  "I understand that you cannot remain, Quetzalcoatl." Atlatl spoke in rapid, hushed tones. "You wish to avoid your brother, Tzcatlipoca. You know, of course, that has already arrived at Teotihuacan."

  The Colonel's eyes darted to Sam's. Oh, crap. "Avoiding is good," he replied in a carefully modulated voice.

  Sam quickly composed her face. None of this made any sense. Why would Jaffa - and she was certain they were Jaffa - help the estranged brother of a Goa'uld to whom they were loyal? They had to be aware that neither she nor the Colonel carried a Goa'uld. Which begged the question of why Atlatl accepted White-owl's word that they were Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtlicue. Because they had come through the Chappa'ai and she had blond hair?

  "Chalchi, your name will be blessed once more." Atlatl pushed back his jaguar jaw helmet, revealing the dark tattoo of an openmouthed jaguar's head on his brow. "It is as we suspected, the fire priests of Teotihuacan take their duties too literally. Now that you have come, the Emperor will have the power to cease this barbaric sacrifice of children in your name."

  "That... would be good, that's why we brought them home. They will be going home, won't they?" The Colonel's voice carried an edge.

  "My men will take them to their homes at the first conch. Now that they have been personally blessed by you, they are more sacred to me than my own sons."

  They walked through gardens that would have made Nebuchadnezzar envious. Everything smelled of jasmine and frangipani, like the bouquet that Two-water had given Sam. The portico of the palace was similar to the Minoan palace on P3X-797, except that these columns were square, not rounded. Sam was somewhat surprised when Atlatl didn't invite them in, but instead led them to a colorful, open-sided marquee near the steps. Straw sleeping mats had been spread across the ground, and earthenware flasks and cups sat on a raised platform at one end. The marquee couldn't possibly have been erected in the few minutes since they'd arrived; it was evidently a permanent feature, a sanctuary for escaped slaves. Another perverse contradiction in this complex culture.

  The warriors tenderly placed the children on the mats. Women dressed in simple-cut, long white skirts and square-necked shirts emerged from the palace, wrapped the children with beautifully patterned rugs, and offered each one food and a drink. The women smiled and bowed constantly to Sam and O'Neill, and whispered thanks to them for returning the children.

  More warriors came to join the others until, before long, over a hundred stood gathered around the marquee. When the last child was settled, Atlatl called in a low but authoritative voice, "Who is it that led you to freedom?"

  White-owl pointed to O'Neill and opened his mouth to speak, but Atlatl asked him, "What is your name?"

  "White-owl, Captain."

  Atlatl turned to the warriors. "This man-child led the fire priest Blood-feaster to his tonali - his fate - as ordained by the gods. Then he led our children and the true and merciful gods, Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtlicue, here to the Emperor's palace."

  White-owl looked like he was about to deny this honor, but Sam caught his hand and squeezed it, hoping to silence him.

  "From this day forth these children will be treated with honor so that they may continue to serve Quetzalcoatl and Chalchiuhtlicue in freedom, in this life." Atlatl turned to the Colonel expectantly.

  Hesitating only a moment, O'Neill said, "Yeah, uhm...we don't want any more sacrifices. Ever. Especially not children." He met Sam's eyes. "Especially not children."

  A loud rumble from the distant volcano failed to drown out the murmurs of approval from the jaguar warriors. Atlatl kneeled before the Colonel, a signal for the other warriors to do the same. "You do us great honor, Quetzalcoatl," Atlatl repeated. "For we know with your coming through the Chappa'ai, the end of time is almost upon us."

  Sam chewed her lip. Her instincts said the children would be fine, but that last part had an ominous ring to it. Rubbing a hand across her face, she wished the weird feeling of insecurity and the persistent headache would let up.

  She wished Daniel were here.

  Stanislaw Wodeski's eyes shone brightly in the dim light of the Temple of the Jaguar. The sense of unease Daniel had felt since they'd arrived escalated when he saw the professor's eyes. Then he realized that the glow in them was the reflection from the lavish gold pieces decorating the walls, coupled with an unhealthy dose of avarice. Not a Goa'uld then, just a murderous thief

  Wodeski, sallow skinned and carrying the flab of too many dinner parties, looked ridiculous in his elaborate costume. His long maxtlatl was a dark wine-red, most likely dyed from the crushed bodies of thousands of Coccus cactic - cochineal beetles. A thick U-shaped piece of solid gold hung from his turkey gobbler neck. Inlaid with a geometric tile pattern of lapis lazuli, the neckpiece tossed discolored reflections onto his pasty, unshaven jaw.

  Draped over the professor's shoulders was a cape of richly woven cloth portraying the Toltec likeness of the god, Tzcatlipoca. The Aztecs had adopted the god in the twelfth century then altered his appearance in the fourteenth. That the Xalotcans were still worshipping the original, Toltec likeness, meant they must have been brought here between six and eight centuries ago. Which made sense, since survey reports suggested the `gate had been on the moon for about six hundred years.

  Something about that whole time thing bothered Daniel, but it eluded him, perhaps because of his growing sense of outrage. "Professor," he said in a deceptively calm voice.

  Startled, Wodeski looked up. Covering his graying carrot-colored hair was a headpiece of feathers - black and red, the colors of the god who stalked the night and demanded the hearts of thousands. How in character for the professor to have impersonated the most bloodthirsty god of them all.

  Wodeski snapped his notebook closed and beamed in recognition. "Daniel Jackson!" His voice was loud enough to waken the still-sleeping residents of the city.
>
  Daniel stood in stiff-necked repugnance as the professor came rushing to him like a long-lost friend.

  "My God, boy, do you realize what I've found? Look at this place!" Wodeski gestured around them to the fabulously decorated temple, one of dozens that lined the Avenue of the Dead.

  "What you've found?"

  The professor's eyes instantly turned cunning. "How did you get here?" he snapped.

  "Same way as you, through the crystal skull network. The one you said Nicholas Ballard imagined."

  "Ballard was a fool." Wodeski waved dismissively. "He claimed some garbage about giant aliens. I discovered the skull is a time machine!"

  "A what?" But of course that was exactly what it would seem like to someone who didn't know.

  "Who's that with you?" Wodeski peered into the shadows.

  "His name is Teal'c," said Daniel. "Why are you impersonating Tzcatlipoca?"

  In a failed attempt at a whisper, Wodeski replied, "Don't play coy with me, boy. You and that grandfather of yours have obviously been coming here for years, pretending to be gods, living out some adolescent fantasy life. Well, you can't stop me from doing the same!" He pushed past Teal'c and walked outside to the entrance of the temple.

  "It's magnificent!" Wodeski stood with his arms spread wide, gazing along the Avenue to the nearby Pyramid of the Moon. "To come back in time and see it as it was in its heyday - "

  "In Teotihuacan's heyday," Daniel said dryly, "it wasn't populated by Aztecs, and it wasn't called Teotihuacan! Don't you get it?" He moved to stand directly in front of Wodeski. "This is not Earth."

  "Oh don't be stupid, boy! I know this culture better than anyone. They've already begun warming up for Nemontemi. Yesterday I saw no less than a hundred taken!"

  The feeling that something was very wrong suddenly exploded into a full-blown sense of dread. "Taken by what?" demanded Daniel. The Goa'uld wouldn't bother with the bodies of those sacrificed in the days leading to Nemontemi when they would be offered perfect specimens later. Preliminary offerings were just a way of cleaning out the prisons and giving the elderly the one last chance of entering Omeyocan, rather than being banished to the Underworld.