She knew she’d found a soft spot by the flash of remorse in Ser’náme’s eyes. But just as swiftly, it was gone. Her voice turned hard.
“We were supposed to have been gone by then. But he’s clever. He’ll figure something out. And he’ll understand why I had to leave him behind.”
So much for appealing to her maternal sense, although it had been worth a try. Without a weapon herself, Sam didn’t have much leverage. She could almost hear Jack muttering “I told you so —”
Still. A little authoritative insistence couldn’t hurt. “I can’t allow you to take the so’ros.” She gave it her best Lieutenant Colonel voice.
Ser’náme merely shrugged. “I really don’t think you have much of a choice, Colonel.” Keeping the zat pointed at Sam, she keyed the door to the bridge and reopened it, motioning Sam to go through. Sam took a final look around the cargo bay, hoping to spot something useful, but the space was mostly empty and nothing remotely helpful presented itself. She had no choice but to comply.
Once they were on the bridge, Ser’náme locked the door behind them.
“Why are you doing this?” Sam still couldn’t figure out Ser’náme’s motives. “To get back at Selmak, somehow?”
“It is not my intention to harm you, Colonel.” Ser’náme ignored the question again, stepping up to the helm. Sam felt the vibration of the engines as the ship fired up. “Once I am safely away from here, I will drop you at a planet with a Stargate. You can find your way back from there.”
“Is it to get back at the Tok’ra for what they did to you?” Sam persisted. “Is that what this is about?”
Ser’náme stiffened with rage. “You cannot begin to comprehend what they did to me — what they took from me.” Her voice was ice as she engaged the downward thrusters. The ship slowly rose.
“I know what a harsesis is,” Sam replied, cautiously. There was a new and dangerous tenor in the tone of Ser’náme’s voice which worried her more than the zat, which was still pointed her way. “I also know there are inherent dangers of having that much knowledge. Did you ever consider that maybe you were better off, in the long run, without that burden?”
They were high above the Tok’ra city now, the luminous glow of the crystal buildings fading swiftly as they climbed.
“Don’t talk to me about burdens, Colonel,” Ser’náme retorted. “You have no idea.”
Flashes of Jolinar’s life sprang into Sam’s thoughts. Memories. Emotions. She pushed them aside.
“Then tell me.”
Ser’náme kept her eyes fixed on the viewport. “There is a stigma, being a Tok’ra child. Even when they’ve taken everything away from you, it’s still not enough for them. They’re watching — always watching — worried that they might have gotten it wrong.” She paused, adjusting their heading. Sam kept silent, waiting for her to continue. “They tried to couch it in meaningless terms like ‘an abundance of caution’, but when I grew old enough, I understood. It was fear. Their fear. Of me. So do not speak to me of ‘burdens.’” Her voice rose. “Do you know what it’s like, for over two hundred years to be seen only as a potential threat — to see the people who might otherwise have loved you, look upon you as if somewhere, inside of you, lurks a monster — to have those you loved turned against you — not because of what you were but because of what they feared you had the potential to be?” She turned and faced Sam, her eyes fierce. “Have you ever looked into the eyes of those you held most dear and seen only fear look back at you, Colonel?”
Sam took a deep breath as her own memories came: the horror on the face of her team, watching her through the bars of a cell when Jolinar had blended with her; the disdain in their eyes as they confronted the Entity who had hijacked her body. She swallowed. “Actually — yes.”
Ser’náme was taken aback, some of the heat fading from her complexion. Her eyes narrowed, as if weighing the truth of Sam’s response. “Then perhaps you can understand. If only a little.”
Through the thinning atmosphere Sam could see the ochre colored land mass receding. They were coming up through the planet’s thermosphere.
“And how does what you’re doing now help?”
Ser’náme gave a mirthless laugh. “Because now I can finally become the monster they always feared.”
It took Sam a moment to grasp what she meant. “Wait — you think you can make yourself a harsesis? How?” There was only one way to be a harsesis, as far as Sam knew. Her eyes lit on the so’ros again and Ser’náme’s meaning became chillingly clear. “You want to rewrite your own genetic code?”
“Not rewrite. Switch back on,” Ser’náme replied, matter-of-factly. “It’s taken me the better part of two lifetimes, but I now know it can be done. And how to do it.”
“With Selmak’s DNA.”
“Precisely.”
The scientific ramifications of what Ser’náme was proposing were tremendous. Research like that —
Sam reined herself in. The science would have to wait. If Daniel’s concerns about a Tok’ra harsesis were valid, then stopping Ser’náme was all that mattered right now.
There was one thing that might work in her favor.
“You do realize that all you have there are ashes.” Sam nodded toward the so’ros. “The comingled ashes of Selmak and my dad. Good luck getting Selmak’s DNA out of those.”
“Fortunately, I only need a small sample of a single bone fragment, Colonel.” Ser’náme was undeterred. “And because of the naquadah in their system, symbiotes have incredibly durable bones. I have seen them survive even the worst inferno.”
Sam frowned. Ser’náme seemed to have covered all the bases. She was going to need a different strategy.
They were coming through the planet’s upper atmosphere now. The field of stars broke into view as the reflected light from below began to diminish. It wouldn’t be long before Ser’náme could engage the hyperdrive.
“So, you become a harsesis — then what?” Talking Ser’náme out of this seemed like Sam’s only option for now. “Destroy the Tok’ra? Take over the galaxy? Reboot the universe, like Anubis tried to do?”
Ser’náme’s dismissive silence gave Sam hope. If this really wasn’t about galactic domination, then maybe she could be reasoned with.
“Look — I may not know what it was like for you, but I do understand what it’s like to have other people try to define who you are.” The bitter exchange with her dad over joining NASA still pained her, despite their having forgiven each other for it long ago. “Even people who love you and have the best of intentions for you can make you feel trapped and resentful. And sometimes we get so wrapped up in what others expect us to be, that we end up defining ourselves in the same limited terms.” How many years had she seen herself only within the narrow scope of soldier and scientist? Ironic that her dad had, in a way, been the one who’d helped her move beyond that.
“The point is,” Sam continued when Ser’náme still hadn’t spoken, “if you do this, you’re giving in to the Tok’ra — you’re allowing them the final say in who you are. They’re the ones who’ll win in the end, because you’ll prove them right. If you want power — real power — then defy their expectations. Whoever you are or think you want to be, make it your choice. Not Selmak’s. Not the Tok’ra’s. Yours.”
Ser’náme cursed heatedly. At first, Sam thought it was directed at her, but then the ship shuddered violently. They were under fire.
“So much for Tok’ra hospitality,” growled Ser’náme. “They must have had my ship under surveillance.” She turned her attention to the helm and the ship jinked, avoiding another shot. Overhead, Sam saw two Tok’ra gliders circling around for another pass.
A hit from behind nearly knocked them both to the floor.
“We have lost the hyperdrive.” Ser’náme’s hand flew over the control panel
when she’d righted herself.
Sam joined her at the console, checking the other readings. She didn’t like what she saw. “The shields aren’t going to hold much longer.” One more hit and they’d be down. Sensors showed the three ships regrouping, and another three rising from the planet’s surface to join them. Sam hoped they were only trying to disable the tel’tak, not destroy it. Unfortunately outcomes didn’t always match intentions.
“It’s not too late, Ser’náme — just go back.”
“No — no!” Selmak’s daughter pounded the console with such fury that Sam backed away. “I can’t!” Beneath the arrogance, Sam detected a true note of despair in her voice. “I…I can’t. Even if I wanted to — it’s too late.”
“I’m sure if you explain —”
“You do not understand — if I go back now, they will never allow me to leave. They will lock me away forever in those tunnels, just as they tried to do when I was a child.” Sam saw desperation in her eyes. “I could never live like that again. I won’t.” She took the ship into a hard dive. “I’d rather die first.”
Sam had to grip the console to keep her balance. “Well, I wouldn’t,” she shot back. Great. Now it was a race between who would destroy them first — Ser’náme or the Tok’ra. She needed another option — quickly.
Something slid against Sam’s leg. It was the so’ros. She picked it up.
Maybe —
“If there was a way out of this, would you take it?” she asked.
“I’m not going back down there, if that’s what you mean.” The ship was weaving back and forth. Sam couldn’t tell if Ser’náme was trying to avoid the Tok’ra’s shots or fly into them. In either case, the inertial dampeners were having a hard time keeping up. Sam was glad she’d gone light on the refreshments.
“That’s not what I mean. Look. I can fix the hyperdrive and you can leave. Here.” Sam held out the so’ros. “You have as much right to this as I do. What you do with it is up to you.” It was a calculated risk, but she had to take it.
Ser’náme looked at the box as if she’d never seen it before. Then she looked at Sam.
“I never wanted the knowledge — or the power, you know,” she said finally. “Not really.”
“Then move on,” Sam told her. Simple to say, much harder to do. Leaving behind what was safe and familiar was never easy, as she was learning only too well these days. “Surprise yourself — be someone new.”
Ser’náme almost laughed. “At my age.” She eyed the box again. “I’m not sure I know how. Still.” She sighed and turned back toward the console. “I suppose it is better than dying. Very well, then, Colonel. You seem to have all the answers. Tell me what you want me to do.”
“The timing of your escape was most fortuitous, Colonel Carter,” remarked Garshaw, smoothly. “We have just received word that Ser’náme was able to activate her hyperdrive and flee before our ships could escort her back to the surface.”
For someone who’d ringed back to the planet supposedly just in the nick of time, Jack couldn’t help but think Sam looked particularly composed. The side glance she shot him confirmed that there was more going on here than met the eye — and also that this was neither the time nor the place for specifics.
At least his blood pressure could go back to normal now. Yelling at Garshaw for the past ten minutes hadn’t exactly helped either.
The two women were regarding each other appraisingly. “I think the important thing is that no harm was done,” Sam finally replied, unperturbed. “And that Selmak’s and my Dad’s wishes can be carried out.” She held the other woman’s gaze another moment before Garshaw finally dropped her eyes and nodded.
“Just so, Colonel. And we have you to thank for that,” she conceded. “Now, if you will kindly return the so’ros, we can conclude….”
Sam interrupted her.
“Actually, I don’t think so.”
Garshaw’s chin raised in irritation. “I beg your pardon?”
“Um…Sam?” Daniel stepped forward, prepared to mediate. Jack looked at Teal’c who merely raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t a clue either, apparently.
Sam ignored Daniel — and the Tok’ra who had stepped forward to take the box. Jack recognized the tight Don’t-Mess-with-Sam-Carter smile she was giving Garshaw.
“I’m afraid there needs to be a slight change of plans.”
The blue glow of the active wormhole shimmered across what remained of the tall table that had stood there moments before. Slowly the now unsupported legs collapsed upon themselves and fell, just as the Stargate deactivated itself, plunging everything back into the pale light of early dawn. There was a lingering moment of collective silence and then, just like that, it was over. The soft rustling of robes and quiet murmur of voices signaled the end of the ceremony.
Jack breathed a sigh of relief.
“You are all, of course, welcome to remain here a while to rest and refresh, General.” The hospitality of Garshaw’s invitation wasn’t quite matched by her tone. “But should you prefer to return home, I can certainly accommodate that as soon as you wish.” She smiled sparingly and walked away.
“Here’s your hat, what’s your hurry,” muttered Jack after her. Not that he had any intention of sticking around one minute longer than they had to.
Sam was staring at the spot where, only a few moments before, the box with her dad’s and Selmak’s ashes had been. Jack went to stand beside her.
“For what it’s worth, I think it was the right call.”
She nodded. “Me too. I’m pretty sure I got through to Ser’náme, but even so — as long as the so’ros remained intact, it might always have been a temptation. Sometimes you just have to help people get rid of the things that keep them from moving forward.”
“That you do.”
There must have been something in the tone of his voice, because she was looking at him questioningly.
Not exactly how he’d wanted to do it, but he supposed there was no time like the present.
“The transfers came through. I just got them this morning.”
“DC and Nevada?” There was a hint of excitement in her voice.
“Yup. Hammond’s doing.” Jack didn’t even want to know how. “You’ll still be able to go out with Prometheus, though. Pendergast insisted.”
She nodded, thoughtfully. “Do Daniel and Teal’c know?”
“Not yet. Teal’c’s all wrapped up with the Jaffa stuff. And Daniel —”
“You know, you’re going to have to let him go to Atlantis eventually.”
Jack merely shrugged. “No rush.” He might just leave that little privilege up to his successor — whoever that turned out to be. He did have a few ideas.
Daniel and Teal’c joined them in front of the Stargate. Over Sam’s shoulder Jack had seen them talking to Garshaw. Whatever it was they’d been discussing had Daniel flush with excitement.
“The Tok’ra have agreed to give us this gate address.” The enthusiasm in Daniel’s voice was palpable. “And although they request that we keep it confidential, Garshaw did say they would be open to establishing communication with the Free Jaffa Nation, in order to share information about the remaining Goa’uld at large.”
“A proposal I will be happy to bring before the Jaffa High Council,” Teal’c replied, inclining his head.
“Oh the times, they are a-changin’,” quipped Jack. There was more truth to that than he really wanted to think about right now.
“Yes. Yes, they are,” Daniel reflected, gazing out over the Tok’ra’s shiny new city. Jack figured he had a day, at most, before he was being dogged with another Atlantis request.
Teal’c made no reply, lost in his own thoughts as he too seemed to contemplate the landscape. Jack knew that look. He’d seen it in short-timers before. The big gu
y had already moved on.
Only Carter was looking his way. In the midst of everything, Jack had nearly forgotten the whole purpose of this trip. She looked tired, but managed a half-smile, nonetheless.
“Time to go back?” she asked. Jack found himself shaking his head.
“Time to go forward,” he replied. She gave a small nod of understanding.
“Dial it up, Daniel,” Jack said, still holding her gaze. “Let’s go home.”
Stargate Atlantis
Worshipper
Melissa Scott
This story takes place after book eight of the Stargate Atlantis Legacy series.
Gemmion Saer woke before the dream’s dreadful end, as she had taught herself to do over the centuries, and lay gasping in the hive’s embrace until her heartbeat slowed and the dream-images faded. At the back of her mind, she could feel the hive’s concern — well, perhaps that was too strong a word; Sanctuary was no more sentient than any other hiveship, but it was aware of her fear, and troubled by it — and sent a cautious thread of mingled concern and reassurance to calm the air. She took a deep breath, marshaling her strength — she did not want to draw the attention of the Hivemaster — and let the light rise around her, driving back the last of the nightmare. Familiar shapes surrounded her: the curved cup piled high with pillows and soft wool that was her bed, the vines that wound around the support pillars, blooming with warm light, the fountain that trickled down one wall, and she unfolded herself from the nest, the air soft on her skin. It was still early in the day-watch, and a tendril of mist crept under her door, a last gift from Sanctuary itself. She sighed — humans, even worshippers who had served the Wraith as long as she, found the mists more chilling than soothing — but allowed a flash of thanks to reach the ship. She felt its satisfaction, and perhaps relief, and then its attention was withdrawn.
STARGATE SG-1 ATLANTIS: Homeworlds : Volume three of the Travelers' Tales (SGX Book 5) Page 8