Alliances

by Stargate

  True. But O’Neill was too tired, and too full of beer and pizza, for that conversation. And in his current frame of mind he’d more than likely say something to Daniel that was as unforgivable as Kinsey’s accusation. Something that three years of hard-fought friendship might not withstand.

  “Daniel. Like I said. It happened, it’s over, it’s time to move on.”

  Silence, while they all stared anywhere but at each other.

  “General Hammond’s stood us all down, while he tries to sort out this mess,” said Carter, at last. “Daniel and I thought we’d go check out those ruins SG-12 found.”

  “And I will visit Ry’ac,” said Teal’c.

  “Provided you’re okay with that,” added Daniel. “I mean, we won’t go anywhere if you don’t want us to, Jack.”

  “Why wouldn’t I want you to?” he said, surprised. “Visiting Ry’ac’s a great idea, Teal’c. You don’t get to see him often enough. Of course you want to play in the dirt, Daniel, and as for you, Carter—actually, okay, you I don’t get. I thought you’d jump at the chance to lock yourself into your lab and play Mad Scientist.”

  She shrugged. “You know what they say, sir. A change is as good as a vacation.”

  “Yes. Vacation,” he said, nodding. “The way things turned out a while back we didn’t actually get one, did we, what with me being shanghaied by Thor and so forth. So this is good. You three get to have some me-time.”

  “And you? What about you?” said Daniel.

  He picked at a cooling slice of pizza. “Me? I get to… sleep. Yes. And read fishing magazines in lieu of the real thing. And pay the piper. That’s what I get to do.”

  More silence, as they stared at each other not expressing any number of opinions that wouldn’t change a damned thing and might very well start another round of fighting.

  Carter stood. “We should go. It’s been a long day, and Daniel and I have to pack for the dig.”

  “Yeah. All those little shovels and things,” O’Neill said, and made himself smile at her. “Have fun.”

  When they were gone, the house felt very empty. He left the pizza cartons and beer bottles and dirty napkins to entertain themselves overnight—there was always tomorrow for cleaning up, and it wasn’t like he had anything else to do—and went to bed. Lit by a shaft of moonlight, Charlie’s photo smiled at him from the nightstand.

  He fell asleep, looking at it.

  Chapter Four

  Living on Vorash, Jacob Carter decided, was like living in Albuquerque. Perfectly pleasant. Not enough green.

  Comfortably curled in the back of his mind, Selmak chuckled. As far as you’re concerned, Jacob, were Vorash a veritable jungle still for you there would not be enough green.

  He grinned. What can I say? he retorted. I miss Seattle.

  I thought you missed Seattle because of the rain.

  I do. The rain is why it’s green.

  Selmak’s sigh shivered through him. Vorash might not be picturesque but at least it’s safe. We haven’t had to run for many months. I for one appreciate the downtime.

  Another grin. Selmak found his Tauri vocabulary a constant source of wonder and delight, and got a real kick out of tossing in Earthisms when conversing with fellow Tok’ra, just to see the looks on their faces. Being the oldest and wisest of the band meant never having to say sorry for showing off.

  They were eating breakfast in the almost deserted communal dining hall. At least, he was eating—it was his turn—and Selmak was heroically not complaining about the blueberry pancakes with genuine Canadian maple syrup. God bless Sam. Sending care packages half-way across the galaxy to her poor old man. What a daughter.

  Will she send more chocolate next time? said Selmak, hopefully.

  What? he demanded. You’ve eaten it all? Again? When?

  Last night. Amazing how a disembodied voice could sound so embarrassed. You were asleep and I was working on our current problem. I was overcome by a sudden craving.

  Of course you were, he sighed. But did you have to eat it all? While I was sleeping? I like chocolate too, you know!

  Sorry.

  Jacob dribbled more syrup on his last pancake, feeling cranky. Sam’s care packages weren’t exactly on a weekly delivery schedule. It was a miracle she managed to send them at all. How she conned George into letting her have the ’gate-time to ship them, he’d never know. When he’d asked, the last time they caught up, she’d just grinned and changed the subject. But con George she did, thank God, and he loved her for it. Even when months went by between deliveries. But those long gaps meant he had to eke out their contents like a miser with a sockful of pennies. So when Selmak couldn’t resist an attack of the midnight munchies…

  Jacob, I said I was sorry!

  And that was another thing. He couldn’t even bitch about Selmak in the privacy of his own mind. Because that privacy no longer existed. Sheesh. If anyone had told him a couple of years ago that he’d be sharing his brain and body with an ancient alien masquerading as a do-gooding snake, eating meals on a timeshare plan, hell, doing everything with his own flesh and blood on a timeshare plan, he’d have laughed in their face then called for the men in white coats.

  Yet here he was. No longer human, but Tok’ra. Destined to live a few hundred more years. Healed of cancer, arthritis, an incipient varicose vein and all the aches and pains a lifetime of combat had bequeathed him. Still Jacob, sort of. Still a father. Grandfather. Air Force general.

  But at the same time so very, very much more.

  Regrets, Jacob, after all this time?

  You know the answer to that, he said.

  Yes. But do you?

  He didn’t reply. Selmak knew the answer to that one, too. Pushing his emptied plate to one side, leaning back in his chair, Jacob looked around the dining hall. Quite often, whenever circumstances dictated that he spend any extended period of time on Vorash, he discovered in himself the crazy urge to run around with a tin of red paint and a paintbrush, just to change the changeless appearance of Tok’ra interior design. He didn’t get it. They were smart enough to develop a crystal-based technology that could create entire city complexes underground… but every structure was the same. Identical floor plans, identical crystalline patterns… and always the same three boring colors.

  I know, he said, before Selmak could comment. You wanted to set yourselves apart from the Goa’uld, with their greed for ostentatious display. But you know, it’s been a few thousand years. I don’t think the occasional splash of chartreuse is going to bring the Tok’ra civilization to its knees.

  Tok’ra traditions are sacred, Selmak said firmly. Hasn’t your own Earth history shown you that once traditions are altered, even fractionally, they—

  “Jacob?”

  He looked round, to see Martouf standing by the table’s other, empty chair.

  “Hey, Martouf. Help you with something?”

  “Am I interrupting you?”

  “No. Not really. Selmak and I were just having a Martha Stewart moment.”

  Martouf smiled. “I see.”

  It was the smile he smiled when he didn’t have a clue what that very odd Jacob Carter was talking about, but didn’t care to appear rude. Or ignorant.

  “Sorry. Bad joke. What’s up?”

  Martouf sat. Casting a furtive glance around the room, to make sure the handful of other diners weren’t paying them any attention, he said, “Per’sus wishes to see us in his private chamber.”

  “About our proposition?”

  Martouf nodded. “I believe so.”

  Jacob smiled. He and Selmak had concocted the idea, deciding to push for a new and organized plan of attack against the Goa’uld. Knowing they needed support, they’d told Martouf. He agreed almost at once. His symbiote Lantash had taken a little more convincing, but was safely on board now.

  The number of available hosts for Tok’ra symbiotes had reached a critical new low. This shortage, coupled with battle casualties and natural attrition, meant that after m
ore than two millennia of warfare they were no closer to defeating the Goa’uld today than they’d been on the morning Egeria took a look around her and decided, There has to be a better way.

  Something had to be done to find fresh hosts, so that the symbiotes currently existing in stasis could once more join the fight. The Tok’ra also needed to swell the ranks of human operatives, humans willing to join the bitter fight against the Goa’uld.

  High Councillor Per’sus agreed with them. But he was newly elected, still feeling his way through the dangerous labyrinth of Tok’ra politics. To flaunt another Earthism, he wasn’t keen on rocking the boat so soon in his first term of office.

  And yet… their numbers were dwindling.

  Lantash said, with his typical abruptness, “Per’sus must support our proposition. Stupid short-sighted self-interest is the hallmark of our unfortunate ancestry. If we do not take risks, if we do not trust our allies, we doom ourselves to extinction and give the galaxy to the Goa’uld.”

  “That is true,” said Martouf, ever the calm voice of reasonable discourse. “But we cannot force Per’sus, or the rest of the Council, into acting faster than their natures allow. To do so would be to guarantee their refusal of our plan. We must coax, not coerce.”

  “Martouf is right,” said Selmak. “Lantash, my old friend, we’ll catch more flies with honey than with vinegar.”

  Martouf looked inwards for a moment, winced, then grinned. “No, Lantash, I’m not going to let you say that out loud. Jacob—”

  “I know,” he said. “I’m the ex-Earthling so it’s up to me to convince Per’sus that the mission is viable, that Hammond will agree to it and that we’re not going to waste Tok’ra lives on a wild goose chase.” He rolled his eyes. “I’ll do my best.”

  Martouf stood. “Then let us go. Per’sus is waiting.”

  Unlike the previous High Councillor, Garshaw, Per’sus had no taste for even the mildest private ostentation. His personal chamber contained no luxurious draped curtains, no jealously protected glass and ceramic vases, no tasselled cushions on the long, low benches that lined the crystal walls. His clothing was plain to the point of severity, in neutral shades of bone and sand. He wore no jewellery and kept his hair short and sleek. Yet despite the austerity, his air of command and authority was unmistakable.

  His current host, Toba, was his third. It meant that by Tok’ra standards he was still young, but he made up for his youth with a keen intellect, boundless courage and a fierce dedication to the Tok’ra’s primary goal: eradication of the Goa’uld. He and Selmak had been lovers, many decades earlier when each had shared different hosts. Passion was long dead but friendship remained. For himself Jacob liked the Tok’ra leader, quite aside from any of the shared memories he’d received from Selmak.

  Some of which frankly he could’ve done without… but that was a whole other ball of wax.

  His expression troubled, Per’sus said, “The mission you have proposed is fraught with danger. You all must know that.”

  Martouf said, even more humbly than usual, “We do. But Per’sus, it is my firm belief—and Lantash’s, too—that unless we take this admittedly drastic action our future looks uncertain.”

  “Lantash and Martouf both understate the facts,” said Selmak. “Per’sus, the Tok’ra have reached a crossroads. My blending with Jacob has convinced me beyond all possible dispute that unless we reach out to those who would join with us in the fight against the Goa’uld we will be defeated and the galaxy lost. The humans—the Tauri—call them what you will, are a brash and youthful race, it’s true. But look who stands with them: the Asgard, the Nox, the Tollan. Can we allow our pride to blind us to their usefulness in this war?”

  Per’sus nodded. With one knee drawn up to his chest and his arms wrapped round it he looked like a student on leave from his studies. “I do not deny the Earth humans have a part to play. But Selmak, I must temper your championship of them with the knowledge that your host is not unbiased. He was until recently one of them and it is his daughter in whom he wishes us to place most of our trust.”

  “Yes, a daughter,” said Martouf, reproachfully, sitting so still and straight he looked to Jacob like a student, too—one who’d been summoned to the principal’s office for a scolding, or worse. “But also a fierce warrior. A courageous woman who was once a host herself. Samantha spoke up for the Tok’ra to her own people and brought us Jacob in the first place, trusting only to the memories Jolinar left her that we ourselves could be trusted, not only with her father but with all the high secrets of her planet! High Councillor, the humans of Earth’s Stargate Command are not the beaten, mindless Goa’uld slaves that we are used to. They are all free and dedicated warriors, unafraid to spill their blood in the cause we hold so dear. And for this plan to work, we need them.”

  Per’sus released a deep sigh and nodded at Martouf, acknowledging his passionate defence. “Jacob,” he said, turning, his expression still troubled. “Firstly know this: your loyalty and commitment to our cause is not in question. But you have lived with us long enough now to know we are not a people who trust easily, or share hard-won secrets without careful deliberation. You have made it plain that you support this dangerous plan of attack against the Goa’uld and in principle I support it too. But can you accept my judgement that its greatest weakness lies in its reliance upon the humans of the SGC?”

  Selmak retreated, leaving the way clear for Jacob to speak. He stood, clasping his hands behind his back. Briefing senior officers always went better when he could think on his feet. “High Councillor Per’sus, I understand your reservations but I don’t accept them. How can I? You’re questioning the integrity and competence of my daughter, and of a man who’s been my unswerving friend for decades. Not to mention the integrity and competence of three good people who risked their lives to rescue me and Selmak from Ne’tu when our goose wasn’t just cooked, it was smouldering. Sam is in a unique position to help the Tok’ra, and George and the rest of her team will back her up if it’s called for, without hesitation. Selmak is right. The Tok’ra aren’t perfect or omnipotent, they’re just ancient. You could stand to learn a trick or two from the new kids on the block.”

  Per’sus rested his shoulder blades against the hard crystal wall and considered him. “They? You? Are you one of us, Jacob, or does your heart still bind you to Earth?”

  Selmak jumped in before Jacob could respond. “Do not dismiss this proposal for the sake of two misplaced pronouns! At least allow us to broach the subject with General Hammond. It might be he will refuse Major Carter permission to participate. But if he is open to the idea—”

  He elbowed Selmak aside. “Per’sus, trust me. George Hammond wants to help us. Hell, he and his people keep offering to help us and we keep turning them down! It’s starting to cause some major friction. If we keep slamming the door in their faces there’s a good chance that when the time comes we really do need them, they won’t pick up the phone. Do you want to risk that? Because I sure as hell don’t! And I’d prefer it if we didn’t keep on proving to the one or two skeptical humans at the SGC that we really are as arrogant and condescending as we appear!”

  With Martouf too shocked to speak, Lantash was able to chip in with his opinion. “Jacob Carter is right. I find the SGC humans primitive, ill-disciplined and over-confident but they may yet serve a useful purpose. Garshaw is gone, Per’sus. The days of timidity and conservative attacks against the Goa’uld have gone with her. The time has come to strike hard against our ancient foe. This will be but the first blow.”

  “Wait a minute,” said Jacob. “I never said they were primitive, ill-disciplined and—”

  “Enough,” said Per’sus. “I have heard your arguments. And while I am not entirely convinced that this plan will work, or that I can in turn convince the Council to support it, I agree that broaching it with Hammond of the SGC is the next logical step. Selmak, you and Jacob will go to him. You will speak with him and report back to me with his reply. You will not
discuss the matter with anyone else until you have spoken with me. Is that clear?”

  Jacob answered for both of them. “Yes, High Councillor.”

  Per’sus stood. “Then I thank you for your attendance.”

  In other words, the audience was over.

  “You know, Martouf,” said Jacob as they wandered through the corridors leading back to the complex’s central work area, “when you get a minute you might try explaining to Lantash that he shouldn’t go putting words in my mouth.”

  Martouf listened inwardly for a moment, then frowned. “Lantash says for you to—and I’m sorry, Jacob, but I have no idea what he means—‘put a sock in it’.”

  Selmak sniggered. Sorry, Jacob. He got that one from me. But of course I got it from you, so… what is it you like to say? What goes around comes around?

  “Spare me,” he said out loud. Then he patted Martouf’s arm. “It’s all right. You’re not missing anything, trust me.”

  Martouf just smiled. “Did you wish me to accompany you to Earth, Jacob? I could ask Per’sus for leave to—”

  “No. I’ll be fine,” he said. “But I appreciate the offer.”

  “Of course,” Martouf said equably, hiding his disappointment like an Oscar-worthy actor. “Then please give Samantha my regards, when you see her.”

  Martouf always asked after Sam, if ever he missed a visit to the SGC. Did he know how his eyes lit up at the mention of her name? Was he clear in his head who it was made his heart go pitter-pat? Jolinar, or Sam? Or maybe even both?

  God save them all. There was a tangle a loving father didn’t want to think about.

  He nodded. “Sure. No problem.”

  Except it might be, one day. He and Sam had never talked about it. They always veered away from the subject at the last moment. Jolinar. Being a host. The memories you re-lived in glorious technicolor and surround sound, that weren’t your own but felt so real they might as well be. Maybe, if George agreed to this new proposal, they’d get a chance to do just that.