Stargate SG-1: Trial by Fire: SG1-1

by Sabine C. Bauer

  Any further queries pertaining to underwear were interrupted by the return of one of the soldiers sent to secure the garrison. He flung himself into the dust before the sedan chairs, waiting to be addressed.

  "Speak," Tendao invited him graciously and after several seconds of deliberation.

  The man remained prostrate. "Forgive me, Lords. We did not find anyone. The settlement was deserted when we arrived."

  "Did you search?" Fuano, sounding peeved. No surprises there.

  "Yes, Lord. The village was empty."

  "Bum it down. Anyone hiding will crawl out soon enough."

  "Yes, Lord." The messenger scrambled to his feet and ran off the way he'd come, probably thanking his lucky stars that his head was still on his shoulders.

  Sam glanced at Tertius. The man gazed into the fire with studied indifference and hadn't so much as winced. He didn't care. None of his people were left in the village and houses could be rebuilt. So where were the women and children?

  Obviously the priests were wondering the same, and by now they'd realized they weren't likely to get an answer from him. Then Fuano reinvented the wheel.

  "You!" he snarled, jerking his chin at the Colonel. "Your friend claims you did not willingly aid the heretics. Prove it to me. Tell me where they keep their women and children!"

  There was a soft intake of breath from Luli's direction, and Professor Kelly started fidgeting. They both knew. But Luli couldn't say anything because it wasn't a child's place, and for once in her life Kelly seemed to have decided to keep her mouth shut. Sam silently applauded the woman's timing.

  The Colonel returned Fuano's stare. "I'd love to, guys, really, but I have no idea where they are."

  "He is lying," croaked Tendao.

  "I don't know where they are. I swear."

  "You swear?" Fuano asked. "Will you swear by Meleq?"

  "Sorry. Can't do that." There was a beat of hesitation, then he said, "Meleq is a false god."

  The Colonel's delivery of bombshells was impeccable, as usual. The hush was so complete, you could hear the whistle of tree sap bursting to steam in the fire. A collection of stunned faces gaped motionless and open-mouthed, each for their own reason. That last part of the message hadn't been addressed to the priests so much as to Daniel and Teal'c and her. When it mattered, Jack O'Neill rarely did anything by accident, and he'd just confirmed that Meleq was a Goa'uld, while ensuring that it wouldn't compromise his team or the Phrygians who had to be the source of that tidbit. His caution implied that the Tyreans, or at the very least the priests, were aware of their deity's pedigree.

  Into the quiet a small, high voice whispered, "Traitor!"

  The word didn't sound any prettier for coming from the mouth of a child. Luli had risen, standing by the fire, pale and shaking, tears running down his cheeks.

  "Luli," the Colonel said gently. "Luli, do you want me to lie to you like these people have -"

  "I hate you!"

  Colonel O'Neill flinched as though the boy had struck him. For just a moment a look of helpless, faraway hurt slid across his face, telling Sam that he wasn't here at all but was reliving another conversation with another child. Then it was gone, replaced by a blankness that gave away nothing.

  "Son!" Hamilqart had found his voice at last. "Be still! It does not behoove you to speak!"

  "Wait!" snapped Fuano. "Let the boy have his say. His outrage at the heresy does you credit, Hamilqart. You have raised him well. Speak, Luli!"

  "He" - a thin, dirty finger pointed at the Colonel - "he fought for the heretics. He killed our soldiers. The Lord Spirit can prove it. He stopped the fighting."

  The Lord Spirit glumly inclined his head, which could have meant anything.

  The boy carried on and dropped his own bombshell. "I will show you where the women and children are hiding."

  "Luli, no!" Jack O'Neill tried to get up and was stopped by two Temple Guards towering behind him. "Luli, don't do it! You don't know what -"

  "Silence!" shouted Fuano and nodded at the captain of the Guards. "Take the boy. You and your men will bring back the traitors' whores and their offspring. They are not to be touched. Yet."

  "Kree!" The man's balled fist thumped against his chest. Then he grabbed Luli's shoulder and led the weeping child away.

  Kree?

  He wasn't a Jaffa, Sam was sure of it. She had sensed no symbiote. So why the charade? The Guards were beloved by the spirits Daniel had said. Did that mean they were Jaffa trained? Possibly. And what were they going to do to the women and children?

  The children. That was what scared Colonel -

  "I say kill them all!" Tendao cawed again.

  This time it didn't sound like the impatient, vaguely humorous ramblings of an old man. He was deadly serious, and Fuano seemed in agreement with him. The priest's eyes slowly wandered to Tertius and the Colonel.

  "My friend Tendao is right. Your crimes deserve nothing less than death. I therefore decree that -"

  "Fuano!"

  Daniel had leaped to his feet. The cool light of the evening made him look white as a ghost, and he took a few unsteady steps towards the priests' sedan chairs, trying to conceal the tremor of his hands. He was bartering for lives now, and he knew it.

  "Fuano. Do you really wish to usurp the Lord Meleq's rights?"

  The priest squinted at him. "What do you mean?"

  Sam might have asked the same question. She had no idea what Daniel was talking about, but she hoped to hell that he did.

  "It is the Lord Meleq alone who can purify these men. Do you intend to arrogate the right of a god? Or is it that you wish to rob the Lord Meleq of the glory of returning the traitors to the path of righteousness?"

  Unless she was mistaken, Fuano had just gone a whole shade paler. The notion of inadvertently peeing into the Lord Meleq's pool obviously didn't appeal to him.

  "What would you know of Purification?"

  "What every true disciple of Meleq knows," Dr. Jackson replied unctuously and left it at that.

  Translated into plain English that meant squat. Terrific. If Hamilgart's account of the last Purification was anything to go by, Daniel had just shunted the Colonel and his Phrygian pals from the frying pan into the fire. On the other hand, the fire was located in Tyros and required something in the way of ceremony, both of which bought them time. Time they wouldn't have if the priests opted for summary execution.

  "Very well," said Fuano. "We shall take them to the temple. All of them."

  Tendao nodded, an ugly little grin on his wizened face.

  aturally it was the Romans who'd invented body-length mirrors. First century AD. In consequence she was stuck with this handheld ladle of polished bronze. But it was a small price to pay for being back in the safe comforts of Hamilgart's house.

  Dr. Kelly furtively checked if anyone was watching her, wishing they hadn't decided to convene their plenary meeting in her room. She'd protested, to which the Carter girl had replied that this was the easiest way of making sure that Professor Kelly wouldn't go exploring again. As if this whole thing was her fault. She certainly hadn't asked O'Neill to go snooping around the temple. As a matter of fact, she distinctly remembered telling him to leave her to her own devices. And now they blamed her. Well, let them. She checked again. The girl was sitting cross-legged on Kelly's bed, pretending to work on her laptop. In reality, she stared holes into the wall. The alien sat beneath a window, knotted into an alien approximation of the lotus seat and mouthing a mantra that presumably wasn't Om.

  She angled the mirror upside down over her shoulder, stood on tiptoe, twisted a little, arched backwards, and craned her neck, and thus could just about catch glimpse of her derriere. Purple didn't flatter her at all. But Lady Ayzebel had very kindly procured the garment, and it was better than that infernal stola Round Rosy had foisted on her. Kelly wasted a brief thought on what might have happened to the woman and whether she had escaped into the cave system under the mountain or was among those the Tyrean soldiers
had captured.

  The passengers had been divided up between the three ships in a rather inconsiderate way. Kelly herself, Jackson, the girl, and this Tea-ugh had been relegated to that battered galley and into the custody of the Temple Guards. The priests and Luli and Hamilgart and the children had been on one of the battleships; and the prisoners, including O'Neill and the Roman leader on the other. She'd found this singularly annoying, because she'd planned to put the journey to good use and interrogate O'Neill on his initiation into the cult of Mithras. It had to be fascinating stuff. If she played her cards right there'd be a book in it. But as it happened, none of them had been given a chance to talk to him after the council in the olive grove had concluded.

  She took another skewed glance in the mirror and wondered whether the fit would improve if she tucked up the robe at the shoulders. In mid-contortion the door flew open and Jackson came bounding into the room, displaying the motoric skills of a young Mastiff. Slightly larger than usual and with less slobber. The girl shot to her feet, and the alien's eyes slitted open.

  "Can't you knock?" barked Kelly, nearly dropping the mirror and uncoiling discreetly.

  Grinning from ear to ear, he skidded to a stop in the middle of the room. "Sorry, Professor!"

  Tea-ugh rose, walked past him, poked his head through the doorway, and gazed up and down the arcade. Then he pushed the door to and remained posted there like a footman.

  "Well?" asked the girl... Beg pardon, the astrophysicist.

  "Hamilgart just got back." Jackson flung himself onto the bed, crumpling the linen even more and bouncing the laptop into a little hop.

  "Watch it!"

  "Sorry."

  "So? What did he say?"

  "Nothing much until the servants took off. Once they were gone, I just about backed him into the pool and casually mentioned the Lady Ayzebel's little indiscretion. After that, he got downright garrulous."

  "Daniel! Is there a point?"

  "From what he told me, they must be a hair away from closing the temple for overcrowding. The priests took everybody up there, which pretty much is what we've figured anyway. Half the kids are two to a monk's cell, and -"

  "So it should be fairly easy to break the Colonel out of there?"

  His effusiveness suffered a sudden dampener. "Well... No. It's only the kids they keep in the open, and they're pretty heavily guarded. Apparently those who've been with the Phrygians" - he cast a quick glimpse at Kelly and corrected himself - "the Romans, I mean, are less than thrilled by the prospect of becoming servants of the Lord Meleq. Can't say I blame them. Anyway, they've got some sort of a holding area for Purification candidates, but that's in the interior of the temple. Hamilgart wouldn't tell me specifics, except that you've got to be the Invisible Man to get in there."

  "Crap," muttered the girl, not ladylike but with feeling. "Will they let us use the `gate?"

  "No way." Young Jackson shook his head emphatically. "Hamilgart almost fainted when I brought it up. The only one permitted to operate the gate is Kandaulo, for anyone else to do so would be heresy, yadda-yadda."

  "You mean we've got to ask nicely if Kandaulo will open the door for us?"

  "Basically yes, but he won't. I think they suspect us of aiding and abetting. In other words, we're under house arrest until the festivities are over."

  "Excuse me?"

  "Hamilgart didn't say it in so many words, but I've seen soldiers outside."

  "Great!"

  Sighing, the girl flopped down next to him and rubbed a fist across her forehead. The silence stretched, until Dr. Kelly decided it was time to admit that she couldn't see what they were getting so worked up about. Clearly some expert advice was called for. She crossed to a chair and sat, hands folded in her lap.

  "Look, I really think you should leave well enough alone. All this talk about prison breaks... We need to respect these people's traditions, and I can assure you this Purification is nothing to worry about. In Phoenician ritual it simply means an ablution with scented water under the supervision of a priest."

  "That's not how Hamilgart describes it," Jackson objected stubbornly. "The last guys to be purified didn't survive the experience."

  "Balderdash! I suggest you look up Maximilian Krahwinkle on Ancient Middle-Eastern Ritual. It's all there."

  "Professor! This isn't a lecture or a book or some theoretical construct. It's real. Haven't you noticed by now?"

  "Of course it's real. I'm not stupid! But these Phoenicians correspond to what we know of the ones on Earth. Peace-loving. Devout. Merchants, not conquerors. Their god Meleq is -"

  "A Goa'uld," came a rumble from the door. Tea-ugh had finally chosen to contribute to the debate, however cryptically.

  Kelly scowled at him. "A what?"

  "They're an alien race." Jackson fiddled with his spectacles. An irritating habit. Why couldn't he see his optician and get them adjusted?

  "Like him?" she asked, cocking a thumb at the alien specimen present.

  "No. More like large, spiky... snakes."

  "Well, that settles it then. Meleq is usually portrayed as a bull, isn't he?"

  "Professor, they can look any way they like. They're parasites. They burrow into the back of your neck, wrap around the brain stem, and take over. They're not exactly pleasant."

  Oh please! She was willing to concede that he might have been right about the Giza pyramids, but this was just too much. Never mind the optician. He needed to see a shrink.

  "Ridiculous," she blurted.

  Something in his face shifted, hardened his features and made him look twice his age. "You should have told that to my wife," he said. "The Goa'uld who took her was called Ammonet. In the end it killed Sha're. I watched her die. She wasn't laughing."

  Kelly bit her lip. She wasn't sure she believed him, but the pain looked genuine enough. Even he wouldn't joke about something like that, would he? He had encountered real life, and in ways she'd never imagined. Never could have imagined. And she'd put her big foot right into it.

  "I'm sorry, Jackson. I..." She cleared her throat, fished for something to say. "I didn't realise you'd been married."

  "Yeah, well... It was a long time ago." The half-hearted flash of a smile didn't reach his eyes. "I don't know what these people's idea of Purification involves. But I do know that Meleq is scheduled to put in an appearance. And that's very, very bad news for

  He broke off abruptly, staring past her and at Tea-ugh. The alien's stance and body language had turned tense, watchful. Then, in a fluid, lightning-fast motion, one large hand tore open the door and the other hauled the eavesdropper into the room.

  It was Ayzebel, pasty-faced and flustered. As well she might be. Outrageous behaviour.

  "I say!" spluttered Kelly. "That's not

  "Teal' c."

  The soft command had come from the astrophysicist, and the alien released their hostess. Trying to collect herself, she nervously smoothed a ribbon of greying curls that tumbled over her shoulder.

  "Forgive my foolishness," she whispered hoarsely. "I meant no harm. I merely hoped to hear news of my son."

  "And I suppose you couldn't have just asked?" observed Jackson in a tone that gave her the lie ever so politely.

  "I..." Fingers fluttered back to that strand of hair and started twirling. "I was afraid."

  "Sit down, Ayzebel. Please."

  The Carter girl rose and fetched a chair that had been pushed up against the wall by the bed. For a moment Ayzebel hesitated, then she did as she was told, reluctant and uncomfortable. The two women looked at each other, measuring, and at length the younger one spoke.

  "Ayzebel, we know. Hamilgart told us."

  "Aie!" Shuddering like a cornered animal, Ayzebel slumped forward over her knees and began to rock. "Ale... Ale..."

  Good God! What kind of indiscretion were they talking about? Mass murder? High treason? And shouldn't the authorities be notified in this case?

  "Please, do not disquiet yourself, Lady Ayzebel." When he wanted
to, that bear of a man - of an alien - could sound as soothing as a well-tuned cello. "I gave your husband my word that we would not betray your secret."

  Gradually the rocking stopped, the head came up again, and she gazed at him dumbfounded. "But, Lord Spirit, how -"

  "We don't believe you did anything wrong, Ayzebel," Carter said quietly, urgently. "Tell me, how much did you overhear just now?"

  The pale cheeks flushed crimson, and she stiffened a little, eyes still tinged with suspicion. Finally she seemed to come to a decision.

  "Not much. I did not dare to approach for a long time. But enough to know that you wish to help your friend. If you... If you will let me, I may be able to aid you."

  The accommodation was four-star dungeon class, and unless he learned how to seep through floor cracks, it was home. Until further notice.

  "Deodatus! You're troubled."

  Oh yeah. He'd forgotten to mention - it catered for two. Which maybe wasn't a bad thing, although, given the choice, he'd have opted for a less perceptive cellmate. Billy Ray Redneck would have done nicely. Or Senator Kinsey, at a pinch. It'd have given him something to strangle. This guy was too close to being on his team. And in case anyone was wondering, his team were the folks he'd royally pissed off. Again. For a change. As soon as he got out of here, he'd have to do some serious groveling. Industrial strength groveling with cake.

  Tertius looked up from a crouch, interrupting his examination of the bowl of slop that tried to impersonate their gourmet meal. "Deodatus?"

  "I hate being shut in."

  Lie. No. Half-truth. The honest answer would be I hate the moment they'll come for me and Ilose control over what happens to my body, my mind, my soul... And nobody, but absolutely nobody, was ever gonna hear him say it.

  "Who doesn't?" Tertius' eyes narrowed and he smirked. "Be grateful this doesn't move."

  "Thanks for the memories."

  The crossing back to Tyros had been less turbulent than the journey out, which still hadn't made a blind bit of difference. Like Miss Marple before him, Tertius had been treated to a full and lengthy expose of the inner life of Jack O'Neill.