Title: Wolves
Author: Jewels
E-mail: jhantor@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. They're not mine, never have been mine, even though I wish they were.
Sequel/Series Info: Late third season. Sequel to Fugue.
Summary: Sequel to Fugue. Anything more would be telling.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: One line for Fair Game, Tok'ra and Bane.
Category: Drama, Angst
Notes: This has been in my thoughts since I completed "Fugue". There were things in that story that just weren't tied off, and I wanted to write something which did. This story actually pulls together story ideas for several different fics that I've been having for months now, so it's been a story I've wanted to write for a long time.

**

"The wolf lurks in the forest."
-Norwegian Rune-Poem (Stanza I, Line Two)

**

Daniel Jackson joined two special forces in creeping close to the wall at a sharp gesture from Colonel Jack O'Neill, who was taking point as they crept down the corridor. Keeping his weapon down, but at the ready, the four of them paused as O'Neill reached up to press a switch on his radio.

"Seal corridor A-3 west." he muttered, and the blast door, with the characters A-3 stencilled on it, slid down to the concrete floor.

They had been progressing in much this matter for nearly an hour, covering most of level 28 in a methodical pattern. The base had been sealed, blast doors closing off the mountain from the outside world, and sealing off the different levels from each other. Anyone who was on level 28 was staying on level 28. And that was precisely what they wanted.

The darkened corridors, lit only by the glow of the red emergency lighting, gave everything an eerie cast, and Daniel found himself growing tenser by the minute. He had been watching far too many late night horror B-movies, and was convinced that they were about five minutes away from the huge oil-slick monster starting to pick them off one by one.

Of course, that wasn't really the scenario of the time, but it felt like it.

"We have located the bomb in the main power room." came Teal'c's solemn voice, slightly distorted, over the radio. "Sergeant Siler and I are attempting to disarm it."

"Acknowledged, Teal'c." came Lt. Simmons voice, from the control room, where the situation was being monitored from.

"Watch yourself, Teal'c." Daniel heard Jack mutter almost inaudible. The Colonel turned to the rest of his team and gestured for them to start towards the bend in the corridor.

As they turned the corner, Daniel caught a flash of blonde hair, and heard Jack shout, "Get back!" an instant before a wave of energy from the Goa'uld ribbon device smashed into him, knocking both himself and the SF next to him into the wall three feet behind them. Daniel didn't move for a moment, stunned, as Jack and the second SF jumped into the corridor, rifles raised, but their assailant was gone. The stunned pair clambered to their feet as Jack spoke rapidly into his radio.

"We've found Carter in section B-15, she's heading towards the Gateroom." Jack started down for the Gateroom at a near run, leaving the rest of his team to hurry after him, weapons ready.

"All personnel on level 28," came Lt. Simmons, doubtless relaying General Hammond's orders. "Converge on the Gateroom. Repeat, hostile is heading for the Gateroom."

"The explosive device has been disarmed." came Teal'c voice, almost overlapping Simmons' statement.

"Freeze!" Major Ferretti was yelling as Jack's team barrelled into the Gateroom, along with nearly a dozen heavily armed soldiers.

Samantha Carter stood, breathing heavily, half-way up the ramp, hand device raised and glowing malevolently. Her hair and clothing was mussed, probably from running pell-mell through the base for over two hours, pursued by as many soldiers as the SGC could muster.

Jack tilted his head as he aimed his rifle at her. "Bang." he said with a smug grin. "You're dead."

"Lieutenant Simmons!" came Hammond's voice like a whipcrack over the PA system. "Time?"

The young lieutenant consulted a readout in the control room, where they were over-looking the action. "Two hours, forty two minutes, thirty six seconds."

Hammond nodded and reached forward to turn on the base-wide microphone. "All personnel, stand-down from drill stations. Repeat, stand-down from drill stations. All team commanders should have their evaluations ready for 0900 hours tomorrow for the performance review." He switched back to the control-Gateroom system and nodded to Carter.

"Well done, Major. Gave them quite the chase."

Sam grinned, her hand device having returned to a dormant state. "Thank you sir." Around her, the teams were lowering their weapons, getting dismissed by their team leaders, and slowly making their way out of the room. Daniel and Jack came up to the Major, who dropped to the ramp and leaned back, still trying to regain her breath.

"Did you have to do that thing so hard?" Daniel muttered, rubbing the back of his hand and gesturing to the ribbon device with the other. "Don't pull your punches, do you?"

Sam smiled. "Well, General Hammond did tell me to make it convincing." Sounding slightly better now, she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. "That was fun. We should do these drills more often." She started pulling the tips of the ribbon device off her fingers. Sure, she was the only person in the SGC who could use it, but it didn't meant that she had to like it.

"Let's just hope they stay drills." Jack pointed out, and the other two nodded in agreement. What they had been simulating - a Goa'uld taking over an SGC member and planting a destructive device on base - was something they hoped they wouldn't have to deal with. Of course there was the whole Asgard-protection treaty, but no one in the chain of command was stupid enough to believe that it made them completely invulnerable.

Sam jumped as the first chevron locked on the Gate, along with an automated message announcing an incoming traveller. She accepted Jack's hand to help her to her feet as the defense teams took up their positions as the fifth and sixth chevrons locked in, and the iris swivelled closed as the seventh engaged and the light started playing on the back wall as the wormhole formed. Sam was almost to the door when Simmons' voice said, "It's the Tok'ra signal." At which point, she reversed her step to bring her back to the middle of the Gateroom. Jack, shrugging slightly at her path, followed her.

The seventh chevron engaged and the wormhole burst into life, revealing one familiar face, and one unfamiliar one, both in recognisable uniforms. The wormhole closed when they got halfway down the ramp, and General Hammond could be heard ordering the defense teams to stand down.

"Hi Dad..." Sam automatically gave Jacob Carter a warm hug as he arrived at the bottom of the ramp, his guard hovering a meter or so behind him.

Jacob took one look at the fully-armed O'Neill and Daniel, and the ribbon device on Sam's hand, looking odd when it was worn with her standard blue jump-suit, and said, "Should I ask?"

Sam glanced at her hand device and quickly put her hand behind her back. "Drill." she said briefly. "Didn't expect to see you, Dad." she said. "What's up?"

Jacob's face took on a pained expression and he glanced at Hammond as the General entered the Gateroom. "I think this is something best discussed somewhere a little less public, Sam." he cautioned her.

Sam's eyes narrowed. "This isn't another mission where you need Jolinar's memories, is it?"

"No... we need yours." Jacob said.

Sam waited for a little more information, but when none was forthcoming, she said, "Come on, Dad. Mysterious really isn't your style. Selmak's maybe, but not yours."

Jacob managed a tight smile. "Well, I'll remind you then that you are, after all, the only person we know of who has seen the inside of the Goa'uld Ate's compound."

"Ate?" Hammond frowned then glanced at Sam. "Isn't the Goa'uld that you were-"

"Tortured by? Yes, sir." Sam shook her head. "I'm not the only one. What about Martouf?"

Jacob didn't answer, just glanced away.

Sam swallowed convulsively. "Oh no..."

**

The Tok'ra's face was bruised and battered, his blood pooling on the floor from where the Jaffa's armour had cut open his skin. Ate doubted that they would stay open for long, the Tok'ra within the host was probably healing him even as she called off her Jaffa, giving him a brief respite.

"Hello," she said to him, as if addressing an old friend. "Remember me?"

The Tok'ra forced open his eyes and stared at her blankly for a moment before licking his lips and sarcastically saying, "Brown hair, bad temper, murderess. Could be an awful lot of the women I know."

"That I don't doubt." Ate said tightly. "Tok'ra aren't exactly known for their sparing of Goa'uld, or their hosts. Kill us all, isn't that your philosophy?"

"You're monsters." the Tok'ra said harshly. "You deserve nothing less than a slow, painful death." He paused.

Ate tilted her head, crouching down next to the Tok'ra. "Indeed. And what are you then?"

"One of the people who'll stop you."

"Such brave words. I suppose you were 'stopping' me from murdering people when the Tok'ra attacked me, then ran off laughing."

The Tok'ra stared at her. "I think I was in too much of a hurry to laugh."

She swiftly stood and kicked him in the stomach, then raised her right foot and planted the heel of her boot on his neck, pressing down hard, against a couple of rather sensitive nerve junctures and the symbiote itself. The Tok'ra managed not to make any sound of pain. She was glad she'd decided to wear the more practical robes rather than then long flowing ones she usually affected. It was much easier to torture prisoners when your movement was unrestricted.

"Do you honestly think I could have posed any threat to you? To the Tok'ra? I didn't ask you to come to my world. I only have this one system. My Jaffa number less than a hundred, I possess only cargo ships." Ate pressed down harder, then, not wanting to kill him too soon, she moved her boot and grabbed his wrist, squeezing harder as she spoke. "But you weren't satisfied were you? You had to attack my world, kill my Jaffa, destroy most of my compound. It's. All. Your. Fault." On the last word, bones in his wrist gave a tell-tale crunch and the Tok'ra yelled in pain. She pushed him away from her. "Yours and that woman's. And I intend to make you both pay for what you've done."

**

The briefing had been going on for a little less than ten minutes, and Sam was feeling ill as she listened to her father describe what had happened. Her mind kept flicking back to what had happened on Ate's planet, what she had gone through... and that had been when Ate wanted in indiscriminate target to take out her need to make Tok'ra suffer on. SG1 sat on one side of the table, and the Tok'ra sat on the other.

"It was more bad luck than anything else." Jacob said, leaning back in his chair. "Martouf and a scout, Helen/Genra..."

"Oh, I remember her." said Daniel Jackson, looking up from stirring sugar into his coffee, then broke off at the looks he got for interrupting. "How's she doing?" he finished.

"I thought you might. And she's ok, sends her greetings." Jacob said smoothly. "The two of them were scouting out potential new homeworlds for the Tok'ra. They had arrived at the third of three possible choices, and were about a mile or so from the Stargate when they were ambushed by Jaffa. There hadn't been any previous intelligence which had indicated it was a Goa'uld world."

"I'd recommend you get some spies in there." said Jack O'Neill, with characteristic sarcasm.

"We know that. But it's not easy matter to infiltrate a Goa'uld's court without raising suspicion." Jacob told Jack. "Anyway, as I was saying, the two were ambushed, and Helen barely managed to make it back to the Stargate to tell us of what had happened. She'd been shot up pretty badly." Jacob paused, apparently listening to something, probably Selmak. "She said that there was a ship that launched just as she reached the Gate. So, it's safe to assume that Ate's facility isn't on Tetrak. We're hoping it's still where it was the last time you met her." As he said that last, he nodded to Sam.

"So you basically want our help in getting in there and retrieving ol' Marty?" Jack summarised.

Jacob somehow managed not to roll his eyes. "Got it in one. My guard and I," He nodded to the Tok'ra beside him, who hadn't been introduced, "Will be accompanying you, so we can take Martouf back to the Tok'ra as soon as we retrieve him."

"Martouf knows the iris code, sir." Sam put forward, speaking to both Jack and Hammond. "I was the one who originally gave them to him. If Ate finds out he has access to Earth, then she'll get the information out of him."

"There's the Asgard treaty." Hammond pointed out.

"Ate doesn't know about it." Jacob said.

"This System Lord may not have a large number of Jaffa," Teal'c said, "But what she does possess could do a great deal of damage were they to make it through the iris."

"That's definitely something we don't want." Hammond noted. He looked to Sam. "Major, can you recall Ate's compound in sufficient detail?"

"Well, sir, I was in a lot of pain at the time, so I wasn't really concentrating," she said, casting her mind back to a time she'd rather not recall. "But from what I could tell there were three main corridors branching out from a central point, and a lot of side corridors off them."

"That's a pretty standard Goa'uld design." said Jacob. "If Sam can recall more information like that, we can work out how to find the most likely place that Martouf is being held."

"I think I can recall the information we need, sir." Sam assured Hammond at his questioning glance.

"So, General, what do you say?" Jack said, turning his chair slightly to face Hammond. "Shall we go and get him?"

"You're confident you can pull this off?" Hammond asked.

"Hey, we went to hell and back. And lived to tell of it, right? This'll be a piece of cake."

"We'll send a MALP through the Stargate to ascertain the status of the Stargate on P8R-273. If it's all clear..." Hammond spread his hands. "Then you'll have a go." He looked around the room. "Dismissed."

**

"Sam..." Janet watched her friend in concern. "Sam, I really think that's enough sugar."

Sam automatically dropped her spoon and raised the coffee cup to her lips. "Ah!" She dropped it again, some of the boiling liquid splashing to the table top. Janet made a face and picked up some of the paper napkins she had grabbed while retrieving her lunch, and started mopping up the spilled mess.

"So," she said, as she finished cleaning up the last traces. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not especially." Sam said, blowing on the surface of her coffee and taking a more cautious sip.

"Ok..." Janet fell silent, spearing a piece of her salad with her fork and chewing on it thoughtful while she studied Sam's rather bleak expression. "I've been thinking," she finally said, catching enough of Sam's attention to make the other woman look at her. "You haven't had a full series of blood tests and spinal fluid analyses in at least... oh... a month."

Sam's eyes narrowed to slits. "Blackmail is unbecoming of a Doctor." she said.

Janet tilted her head. "It's just as well that I'm talking to you as a friend, rather than a Doctor then, isn't it?"

Sam looked at the table top and set her cup down, folding her hands in her lap, looking, for all the world, like a condemned woman. "What do you want to know?" she asked.

"What happened between you and Martouf that's having you acting like..." Janet's hands fluttered in the air vaguely. "Like... your pet dog just died."

"I don't have a dog."

"Fine, your pet cactus!" Janet tried not to lean over the table, knowing that it would be the last thing that Sam needed was to have someone shoving their face in hers. "Sam, talk to me."

There was silence for a long time.

"Sa-"

"I slept with him." Sam interrupted. "Actually, that's not true, I..." she took a deep breath. "I almost slept with him."

Janet nodded slowly and leaned back, setting her fork down in her half-eaten salad, ignoring the food for now. "Almost? Why didn't you?"

"I'm not sure." Sam said. "We... we'd kissed, we'd managed to get over to the bed... touching..." Sam blinked, forcing herself back to the present, to the fact that she was trying to conduct an intelligible conversation. "I don't know why I made him stop. We'd been walking through forest for days, I'd been tortured by that Goa'uld bitch queen, and we'd been growing closer."

Sam had suddenly seemed to slip into a trance, and Janet spoke to bring her out of it. "So what changed?"

"While we were... on the bed..." Sam said haltingly, her voice almost inaudible, not wanting others in the mess hall to hear her. "I got a memory flash, from Jolinar."

Janet tried not to wince. "Ah." she said simply.

"It was shortly after Jolinar had come back from one of her espionage missions. She'd been injured, a bit like me, and she was desperate to see Martouf again. When she went to his quarters... well, you're an adult, Janet, work it out." Sam swallowed convulsively. "I just felt like... I was a substitute for Jolinar. That I was a voyeur. That this wasn't meant for me, it was meant for her. I just went cold. I pushed him away and practically ran out of the room, didn't even say two words to him. Ran out, found my dad with Jack and said I wanted to go back to Earth. I managed to avoid him before we left."

Sam sniffed slightly, grabbing one of the napkins which was not coffee soaked and dabbed at her face. "So, as you can tell, we didn't exactly part on the best terms."

"I'm sure he wouldn't blame you." Janet said, trying to sound reassuring. "You can't be held responsible for when these memories flashes take place, or what they show you."

"He doesn't even know why I ran." Sam interjected quietly. "He doesn't know that I experienced one of Jolinar's memories."

Janet wanted to scream at her friend 'Why the hell not? You should have tried!', but instead she just shook her head sadly. "Then when you see him, you can explain."

"Of course," Sam said, raising her coffee to her lips again. "That does depend on us finding him again."

"Don't be pessimistic." Janet said briskly. "You need a more positive mindset."

"Positive my..." Sam trailed off and was about to take a sip of her drink when a voice came over the PA system. "Major Carter to the control room." Sam looked at the ceiling automatically, as if it were the one doing the talking. "Major Carter to the control room."

"That's my cue." she said, setting down her mug and managing to inject some humour into her tone. Janet tried to smile along with her, but failed miserably, the remorseful expression on Sam's face was enough to put her off. "I'll see you later, Janet."

Janet nodded and waved absently. "Bye." She stared after her friend as she walked out of the door and then sighed. She stood and headed for the deserts. She really needed a large piece of chocolate cake.

**

When Sam arrived in the control room, she found the room flooded with the bluish light from the wormhole, and the rest of her team assembled there, staring at the MALP as it trundled through the event horizon of the wormhole. Her father was also there, staring over Lieutenant Simmons' shoulder at the monitors.

Hammond noticed her and beckoned her forward. "We're sending the MALP through to P8R-273 now."

Sam nodded in response, and commandeered one of the swivel chairs to sit in front of another monitor and pull up the a display of the MALP's telemetry that was also displaying itself on Lt. Simmons' screen. "Object has reached its destination." she reported at a signal from the probe.

"We're receiving MALP telemetry." Simmons said, pulling it up and putting it on the overhead monitors.

The image transmitted by the MALP bore no resemblance to the planet that Sam remembered from her time on that world. Granted, she had been in excruciating pain and semi-conscious most of the time, but the difference was so startling, it would have taken an idiot not to notice it.

"I don't think the Goa'uld are there anymore." she said softly.

The forests that had covered the landscape as far as the eye could see were gone, and in their places were kilometres upon kilometres of charcoal, a few stumps visible by the MALP. The grass was gone, and covered in ash. There were a few large craters, the largest being in the place where a cliff had once existed; all that remained was rocky rubble. The sun was obscured by the thick clouds in the air, giving the landscape a greyish tint.

"The atmosphere's filled with dust," Simmons said, reading from his screen. "And the temperature's dropped to about 3 degrees Celsius."

"Looks like the place was bombarded from orbit." Selmak put forward quietly. "Shipboard weapons are the only type of device I can think of that would cause damage of that scale."

"Ate didn't have a Goa'uld mothership." Sam reminded her colleagues.

"She didn't?" echoed Hammond.

"Major Carter is correct." Selmak said. "Ate's forces were negligible. She held only one system. And the blast pattern is not consistent with my knowledge of Goa'uld weaponry. Theirs is mainly pulse based technology." Selmak leaned forward slightly and pointed as a section of the screen. "Please magnify this section."

Simmons glanced at Hammond briefly, then did as requested. Selmak nodded, as if what she saw didn't surprise her at all. "It appears to have been a particle beam weapon."

"What's the difference?" asked Jack.

"Well, pulse technology is much more efficient." Sam said. "You can channel energy into a single burst that does the same, if not more damage than a beam. With a beam, it has to be sustained, so the overall energy usage is much greater, but it as long as you have enough power to compensate, it does the same damage."

"Ah." Jack said, "So, these people would have to be a little more technologically advanced than the Gou'ld? To have more power?"

"Perhaps." mused Selmak.

Hammond looked thoughtful. "What about those aliens you encountered? Didn't they have a colony on that world."

"Aliens?" echoed Sam. "No one ever told me about aliens."

"Oh yeah," Jacob said, taking over from his symbiote. "They sort of told us where to find you."

"Oh." Sam glared at her team-mates. "And no one told me this?"

"You /were/ unconscious for most of the debrief, remember?" said Daniel.

"I was tired." Sam said defensively.

"Anyway," Hammond said, interrupting. "These aliens."

Jack nodded. "Maybe they got tired of the Gou'ld being there."

"The Seruuan," said Teal'c, "Said that they hid from the Goa'uld. I have never heard of this species attacking the Goa'uld, even though they claimed to have shared the same planet as the System Lords."

'At least someone remembers the name of those aliens.' thought Jack.

"I think we should go there." said Daniel, "See if these aliens are still there."

Hammond shook his head. "We have more pressing matters than that. Martouf has the iris code for Earth, and with the transmitter remaining with the Tok'ra, we can't change the codes without locking any visitors from the Tok'ra out. I need you to remain here to make plans for how to get in and out to retrieve Martouf."

"How about assigning another SG team?" suggested Jack. "I know for a fact that SG-2 are chewing on the carpet waiting for a new mission."

Hammond thought for a moment. "Good idea." He nodded to Simmons. "Continue gathering MALP telemetry and tell Major Ferretti he has a new mission." Simmons nodded and Hammond turned back to SG1 and Jacob. "So, if Ate isn't on this planet, where is she?"

**

On the planet N'horkas, inside a dark little cell, Martouf lay on his side, trying not to breathe too deeply, for fear of the hot lances of pain that seemed to travel up and down his body whenever he did more than blink. Even that ached.

'Oh stop complaining.' ordered Lantesh, sparing some of his attention from repairing the host body to speak to the host. 'I assure you, I am feeling this pain far more acutely than you are, and for that, you should thank me.'

'Really.' Martouf replied tiredly. 'So, what's the bad news, now that you're speaking?'

'Well, from the top, literally, concussion, severe bruising on the neck region...'

'Those boots are really painful.'

'You're telling me? Then we have at least one fractured rib, bruising of the intercostal muscles, the bones in your right wrist seem to exist in a powdered form at the moment, and considering all the other damage, I don't think I'll be able to fix them any time soon.'

'In that case, I'm assuming you're putting a nerve block on it?'

'Of course, otherwise you'd be screaming in pain. Well, more than you already are.' Lantesh hesitated. 'Martouf... you've got some nasty damage in your nervous system from the ribbon device, neurones that are misfiring badly. I can't control it all. If she keeps it up, I'm going to have to block you out entirely so you can sleep through it. I don't think you can take much more of it and remain... well... completely sane.'

'Believe me, Lantesh, I will not object to that.'

'Good. What I found curious is that she is not asking us any questions.'

'It's not as if she needs an excuse to torture us.' Martouf groaned slightly as he tried to move his arm, and the nerves all the way to his chest screamed in agony. He stopped trying to move and just lay there. 'How many times have we been captured and tortured, Lantesh?'

'While being blended or in the last few days?'

'Blended.'

'Four? Five?'

'Four or five times too many if you ask me. As Jacob says, we have terrible luck.'

'We've always managed to get out of the situations before.'

'Let's hope this time is no different.' Martouf turned his head slightly, ignoring the pain momentarily, to look at the door as it slid open to admit Ate, flexing the hand on which she wore her ribbon device, which was glowing softly.

Lantesh kept his word about putting Martouf to sleep.

**

Sam Carter sat alone in her lab on level twenty one, a large sheet of paper spread on the table in front of her, tapping a black marker against the edge of the work-surface. She stared hard at the page, which had a few thick black lines sketched on it, and very little else.

"Nice drawing," commented a voice from over her shoulder. Sam automatically jumped and spun her chair around to see her Dad standing a couple of feet away from her.

"I wish people would stop sneaking up on me like that." she muttered viciously, tossing the marker to the table.

"Sorry, Sam," Jacob said, frowning, then stepped up beside her and leaned forward, resting his elbows on table next to her drawing. "What's up, kid?"

Sam sighed. "I'm never going to remember the layout of this facility." she said in disgust, waving her hand at the drawing.

Jacob looked down at what she had done so far. "Well... what you've got... that's pretty good."

'Jacob, it looks like something my third host's past child drew.'

'You had a child? Oh yeah, Teirna did. Before she was Blended.'

'Right.'

"It looks like a child's scribble." Sam said, shaking her head. "I just... can't remember!"

Jacob placed a hand on his daughter's back gently. "It's alright. You were injured. It's understandable if you can't remember. No one's going to force you."

Sam didn't answer, just put her head in her hands and sighed deeply.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Sam replied. "Nothing at all."

'Jacob, I think this situation calls for a woman's touch.'

'Is that your less than subtle way of-'

Jacob's head dipped as Selmak took over control of their body.

'Yep, I thought so. And just because you were a woman, doesn't make you an expert.'

'Of course it does, Jacob. Now be quiet and take a nap so I can talk to your daughter.'

'Fine, fine...'

"Samantha, would I be incorrect in assuming that your current state of mind has something to do with Martouf?" Selmak asked, pulling over a chair and sitting down.

Sam looked at Selmak out of the corner of her eyes. "Did Dad give you that idea?"

"He didn't need to." Selmak replied with a smile. "Simple observation, and experience, sufficed."

"Really." Sam said.

"And besides which, I guessed it was something to do with that, because Martouf had this tendency to flinch and look away whenever the Tau'ri were mentioned." Selmak tilted her head and regarded Sam carefully. "What happened between the two of you?"

'Jacob, mind if I...?'

'Yeah, I know. Go ahead and plug the hearing back here.'

"Don't worry," Selmak said, "Your father cannot hear you."

Sam stared at Selmak for a moment, then, apparently deciding that the Tok'ra was telling the truth, she launched into what had transpired between the Martouf and herself the last time they had seen each other. Selmak was silent for a long moment after she had heard the entire story.

"Well..." she finally said. "I think that's the first such story... of that type... that I have heard. Although you are the only former host to a deceased Tok'ra that I know. Apart from Erinye, and she rarely talks to anyone about anything nowadays."

"Erinye? She's..."

"The host Cordesh took by force." Selmak paused. "I really don't know what to say to you. Only that such things tend to work themselves out."

"Speak from experience, Selmak?" Sam asked, a slight smile lighting her features.

"In a way." Selmak responded, grinning. After a moment, unable to resist, Sam also grinned.

Selmak tapped the paper playfully. "Keep drawing, young lady."

"Aye, sir." said Sam, grin still on her face, as she picked up her pen once more.

**

Major Louis Ferretti and the rest of SG-2 stepped out of the Stargate and slowly surveyed the landscape.

"Nice." said Captain Hunter, the 2iC. "I think this place resembles the last place I went on holiday."

Captain Bethany Fields said, "Let me guess," a wry smile lit her face. "You never travelled with that company ever again?"

"Damned right, Beth." answered Hunter.

"Maybe you can go to P4F-145 for your next vacation." Fields said, raising her eyebrows.

Hunter coughed self-consciously; none of the team had forgotten their experience on that planet, where the Captain had managed to get a /little/ tipsy and started a rousing chorus of 'my old man's a dustman' which he had apparently learnt whilst on leave in England from his sister's husband some time ago. Fields maintained to that day that he had also tried to seduce half the female population of the planet. She wouldn't disclose whether she had been included in the count, and Hunter claimed he couldn't remember.

"Well this certainly makes a change from routine." commented Ferretti, drawing attention away from the state of the planet which was, frankly, depressing. "Us, having to rescue a Tok'ra."

"God forbid our lives should be predictable." said Hunter.

"Uh..." the fourth member of their team, Lieutenant Kingston, was looking at the ground. "Does anyone else hear that?"

Ferretti listened carefully as Fields and Hunter fell silent. The almost-screeching sound was familiar to him. "Ok, everyone off the-"

That was as far as he got before the transport rings leapt up from the ground and enveloped them, causing them to reappear somewhere that was lit by narrow fluorescent yellow strips on the walls. The place they stood appeared to be a perfect cylinder, slightly flattened at floor level so they could walk on it. The walls of the tunnel was a sort of reddish stone, highly polished, and had several elegant characters (which could have been the recipe for the perfect banana walnut cake for all Ferretti knew) carved into them in a silver colour.

Fields ran her hand on the surface of the wall. "It's perfectly smooth." she said. "No seams anywhere I can see. They just tunnelled straight through."

"Using some sort of laser?" asked Ferretti. "And who's 'they'?"

Fields shrugged. "Got me. On both counts."

"Sir!" Kingston and Hunter's simultaneous shout brought Fields and her CO around, weapons raised, as two aliens stepped towards them. They were tall and willowy, and their skin had a pale green cast to it.

"Greetings, Tau'ri." said the taller of the two, bowing slightly, before looking to them quizzically. "I am Im'rui. You are unknown to us, but you were looking for us."

Ferretti glanced at Hunter, who shrugged microscopically, not lowering his weapon. "Ah... I guess so. We were trying to find out what caused the damage on the surface."

"That was us." Im'rui said.

Ferretti frowned. "We were also told to find out why."

"The Goa'uld were searching for us. We could not permit our location to be discovered, or those of our Human companions. The Goa'uld began the destruction, we merely finished it." Im'rui had apparently said all it was going to say on the matter. "Please lower your weapons, or my guard will believe you are hostile."

The team glanced at Ferretti, and, at a nod from him, slowly lowered their weapons, but did not remove their hands from them.

"We're trying to follow the trail of the Goa'uld who rei... inhabited this world." Ferretti rethought his words at the last moment. He had a feeling these aliens wouldn't like the thought of a Goa'uld 'ruling' them.

"As our orbital platforms attacked the surface," Im'rui said, gesturing to the ceiling, presumably indicating space or the surface. "The Goa'uld evacuated in several transport ships. We can give you the direction they initially headed in, but we did not track them once they entered hyperspace."

Ferretti nodded, and Im'rui raised its hand again, gesturing in his direction. He first thought it was going to offer him some sort of data storage device with the information on it, but, with crystal clarity, he found himself looking at an image of a planet from space, with co-ordinates and curves drawn in in bright colours. He staggered back, and as Fields' hand's prevented him from collapsing, or hitting her and knocking her over, he blinked, and realised that what he had seen was only in his mind.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"Remember, the briefing said they were telepathic." murmured Fields.

"Thank you, Beth, I do remember." replied Ferretti in an undertone. Fields coloured in embarrassment and looked away, dropping her hands. "Now." he added.

"You now have the direction they travelled in." Im'rui said, "Do not be alarmed. The information will remain in your mind until you have passed it on to others, then it will remove itself from your long term memory."

"Great." responded Ferretti. He glanced at Hunter, as if to say 'please tell me we didn't need anything else' to which Hunter responded with a negative head shake. "Thanks for your time." he said rather lamely.

"An enemy of the Goa'uld is a friend of ours." Im'rui said softly, and raised all four of it's hands, making an elaborate gesture.

With that odd semi-screeching noise, the transporter rings descended from the ceiling and surrounded SG2, who, within seconds, found themselves back on the desolate surface.

"Are you alright?" asked Hunter, taking his hands off his rifle.

"Yeah fine. I just love having aliens mess with my head." responded Ferretti.

"Just be glad you're not on SG1, Louis." said Kingston. The team was quite informal with one another, always addressing each other on a first name basis. "I hear that they get that sort of thing every other mission."

"That's pretty accurate." said Ferretti. "Want to dial us up, Dave?" Kingston nodded and headed for the DHD.

Hunter was looking about them as Kingston hit the first glyph. "You know, I saw the images of this place from SG1's mission report." he said. "Wasn't such a bad place."

Fields wrinkled her nose. "Bit like flaming a town to get rid of termites in one house. Idiots." she said, pronouncing judgement on the entire Seruuan race.

"And on that note." Ferretti said, gesturing to the now open wormhole. "After you, Beth."

"Very funny. I'm /not/ an idiot. Now send the iris code."

"If you insist..."

**

One of the few things that Ate had to be proud of was the fact that she had one or two Goa'uld who were actually quite talented scientists sworn loyalty to her, and a few Humans who functioned as Techs taken from worlds one at a time, so that the Goa'uld who ruled on those worlds didn't even notice their disappearance. So, that gave her the resources for maintaining a laboratory which did, on occasion, come up with rather interesting products.

"This is it?" Ate demanded, turning over the vial in her hand. The pale purplish liquid inside cast an odd shadow on her small hands. "It's not particularly impressive."

"Your majesty!" the Tech squeaked, moving as if to take the vial from Ate's grasp before the System Ruler dropped it. "Please, that's highly toxic."

"It had better be more than toxic." Ate said, bored with making the Tech squirm, and tossed the vial across the space between them. The Tech scrambled for it, catching it and placing it on a table where it wouldn't fall and break. "It had better be deadly."

"It is! It is." The Tech assured her hastily. "We've tested it strenuously from the original that was... uh... acquired from the Rennet. It'll work."

"What is the incubation period?" Ate asked, picking up a few other coloured vials dotted around on the counter, ignoring the fidgeting of the Tech.

"Approximately twenty hours." replied the Tech. "Please, my lady... those are quite danger-" The Tech broke off at Ate's glare. "-ous." she finished subaudibly.

"I believe you told me that." Ate informed the Tech, dropping the vial to the counter-top. "I'm bored." She declared, turning on her heel and heading for the door.

"Uh... your highness..." The Tech quivered slightly as Ate glanced back at her. "Where will you be.... should I need to contact you about the research?"

Ate's mouth twisted into something approximating a smile. "I'm going to play with the Tok'ra."

**

"Incoming traveller." Technician Davies silently counted down from ten as she tapped away on her keyboard after uttering that phrase, and as she approached three, she heard Hammond enter the control room and say,

"Which teams are currently off-world?"

"Five and seven." Davies informed him, then peered at her screen as the computer flashed the 'code accepted' screen at her, and waited for confirmation. "Sir, it's the Tok'ra signal."

"Open the iris." Hammond turned to Sergeant Harriman. "Summon Jacob Carter."

Harriman leaned forward and pressed a switch on his mike as Davies fed the computer her palmprint in order to open the iris. "Jacob Carter to the Control Room. Jacob Carter to the Control room."

There was the screech of metal on metal as the iris opened, and the guards barely moved as they waited for their visitor.

A tall beige-clad figure stumbled through the event horizon of the Stargate and halfway down the ramp before she managed to come to a halt. She glanced at the defense room guards, who looked ready to shoot her if she breathed in the wrong way.

"Oops." she muttered, looking to the control room. "I tripped on the top step." she explained in an embarrassed tone.

"That's Larrell/Aela." Jacob said as he entered the Control room in time to see Larrell's entrance. There was a slight note of exasperation in his voice, as if he expected her pratfall.

Hammond nodded as, in the Gateroom, Larrell raised her voice slightly. "I have information about Ate's current location!"

"Maybe this'll clear up that information SG2 brought back." said Hammond, to which Jacob nodded as Hammond leaned forward and ordered the defense guards to stand down. "We certainly haven't made any progress."

"Right. Lieutenant, call SG1 and have our guest escorted to the briefing room."

**

Daniel was a little surprised to see yet another Tok'ra in the briefing room as he followed Teal'c inside. Jack, Hammond, Jacob and his guard were already seated, talking in low tones, while the female Tok'ra simply sat quietly, hands folded in her lap.

Hammond looked up as the two entered the room. "Ah, good, you're here." He gestured to the female Tok'ra. "Gentlemen, this is-"

"Larrell," Daniel said, interrupting. "We've met." He nodded to the her. "Nice to see you again."

Larrell offered a smile. "You too, Doctor, Colonel, Teal'c." she bobbed her head to each of them in turn.

"I guess that we're just waiting for-" Jack broke off as Sam entered the room.

"Sorry, I'm late." she said apologetically. "Problem with one of the naqada reactors."

"Now you're here we can get started." said Hammond, gesturing to the only available seat, next to Larrell towards the end of the table.

"You've got new information on Ate's whereabouts?" Jacob asked Larrell as Sam took her chair, cutting straight to the chase. The SGC officers sat forward slightly, waiting to hear what Larrell had to offer.

Larrell bowed her head in agreement. "One of our scouts in the Gammak sector monitored ship movements from the planet you refer to as P8R-273, to another inhabitable planet in that sector called N'horkas. That region of space is virtually devoid of other Goa'uld activity, which seems to follow Ate's pattern of avoiding other System Lords." Larrell tapped the tabletop, in a gesture of deep thought. Jacob frowned, conferring with his symbiote.

"Do you have the co-ordinates of the planet?" Hammond asked, and Larrell nodded, rummaging in her belt pouch, before pulling out a small strip of what looked like thin plastic, six Stargate glyphs written on it in black. She tossed it into the centre of the table, and Sam picked it up to examine curiously.

"What is this?"

"A Stargate address minus the point of origin."

"I mean what it's written on."

"A synthetic polymer." Larrell looked embarrassed. "It was the only thing I could find to write on."

"Plastic." Jack said, giving Sam a 'put the new toy down' look.

"If that is what you call it. We don't have much in the way of disposable writing materials." Larrell said.

"Have you been able to determine what sort of facility Ate's using?" Jacob asked, to which Larrell responded by shaking her head.

"No. We assume that she is using a standardised design, as she has few resources to spare on design." she said.

"We surmised that Ate was using a chen'ret layout for her facility from the information that Sam's managed to recall." Jacob said, inclining his head towards his daughter. "If what you say is true, the same design should be used here. We can narrow down the possible rooms in which Martouf is being held in that case."

"Narrow down?" repeated Jack. "So we're going to have to traipse all over this Gould's place looking for him?"

"One section of it, anyway." said Jacob.

Jack shook his head. "What fun." he muttered.

"It's important that this mission go ahead as soon as possible." said Hammond. "Mission briefing will be at 0900 tomorrow morning, you'll depart one hour after."

"Yes, sir." Sam and Jack said, more or less simultaneously. Sam was a little slower in her response, obviously preoccupied.

"Then I will return to the homeworld." Larrell said, bowing her head slightly.

"Actually, Larrell," Jacob interrupted. "I'd like you to accompany us on the mission. An extra body would be very useful."

Larrell smiled and nodded in agreement. "Of course."

Hammond glanced about, seeing no questioning expressions on the faces of his officers and said, "Dismissed."

Larrell and Jacob's guard stood at the same moment as SG1 and the six of them filed out of the door. Hammond was about to go to his office, when he realised that Jacob hadn't moved, and was staring at nothing in particular with a frown on his face.

"Jake?" Hammond said, catching Jacob's attention. "What wrong?"

"Nothing, George." Jacob said, smiling to ease Hammond's mind. "Just trying to remember when we put scouts in the Gammak sector, that's all."

**

Martouf's eyes opened a slit as Ate entered his cell, accompanied by two Jaffa, who, for once, didn't come anywhere near him, but hovered near their Queen, and a diminutive Human, Lantesh couldn't sense a Goa'uld within her, so it was safe to assume she was from a slave world. The coverings that the Human was wearing were of the type that seemed to characterise scientist's garb everywhere: functional, with a lot of pockets. Probably a technician or a medic. To judge by the syringe held in her hand, Martouf guessed it was the latter, although Lantesh cynically pointed out that it was unlikely to heal them.

"Wake up, my dear," murmured Ate, waving the medic forward with what looked like wariness. "Wouldn't want you to miss this."

The medic edged forward, as if worried Martouf would attack her. Martouf doubted that he would have been able to if he'd wanted to. He swallowed several times, before managing to croak out, "Miss what?"

Ate smiled, like a feline that had managed to catch its prey. "My vengeance." she said simply, and nodded sharply to the medic.

The medic came to barely within arms length and pressed the tip of the hypodermic syringe to Martouf's carotid artery on the first attempt; the sensation of the purplish liquid in the vial emptying itself into the blood vessel was a painful experience that Martouf could have lived without.

'What is that?' he queried Lantesh.

There was silence from his symbiote. 'Lantesh?'

'Oh no...' muttered Lantesh, and, before Martouf could say anything further, he launched himself into trying to defend the host body. The sudden intensifying of the symbiote's attention of his body made Martouf slightly dizzy, and he groaned slightly.

That seemed to satisfy Ate, as she smiled in that unnerving manner once more, before spinning on her heel and marching out of the room.

**

Daniel's first opinion of the world that Larrell had called N'horkas was that it was hot. Very hot, with only a little breeze. The normal cooling effects of the gate were somewhat nullified as he felt they were stepping out into a wave of warm air, and his clothing began to stick to his skin. He hated planets like that.

The Stargate was situated in the middle of a forest, exclusively made up of trees that seems to resemble pines, even down to the carpet of needles covering the ground. Daniel was reminded of the Christmas trees he'd had in the past, characterised by the pine needles that you were still sweeping up till mid-April. Of course, he hadn't had one of those since he had joined the program. There just wasn't any time; if he remembered rightly, he had spent last Christmas, along with the rest of SG1, playing a game of hide and seek in a veritable rabbit's warren of caves, trying to evade a platoon of Jaffa and get back to the Gate.

The Gate itself was placed against a huge granite wall, one side smoothly polished so that the Gate could rest against it perfectly, while there were two obelisks, covered with Goa'uld characters, standing on either side of the DHD, made out of the same grey stone as the rock was. That was probably where they had gotten the stone from, Daniel thought. The was behind those three objects that SG1 and their Tok'ra companions hid behind as they leapt from the Gate, taking up positions that had been decided upon from viewing the MALP telemetry. Daniel was crouching behind the left obelisk with Larrell, Sam and Teal'c were behind the other, and Jacob and Jack were hiding behind the DHD, just in case there had been someone waiting for them.

Daniel stared at the obelisks with open curiosity. "These are new." he murmured. "There's no weathering at all."

Larrell gave little more than a cursory glance towards the obelisk. "Ate put it here when she arrived." she paused. "Probably."

Daniel nodded in agreement and was about to say something further when Jack's voice interrupted. "If you two are quite finished?"

Daniel stifled the urge to roll his eyes as the group clambered to their feet, still watching carefully for any sign of Jaffa. It was unlikely they could approach without being seen, as the trunks of the trees were too thin to hide behind, and were widely spaced.

Jack was already handing out orders. "Daniel, send the MALP back, Larrell, where did you say this Gould's place was?"

"I didn't." said Larrell primly, stepping aside to allow Daniel to get to the DHD in order to dial up Earth. "It is approximately 2 Krefal away from here, chal'nek."

There was a puzzled silence, then Jacob sighed. "The Tok'ra use a different system of measurement, I'm afraid it doesn't translate well. Krefal is a little more than a klick, and chal'nek is westwards."

"Ah." Jack said. "Carter..." Sam nodded and pulled the compass out of one of her jacket pockets. Daniel, having sent the MALP back home, stepped away from the DHD and joined the loose group they had formed.

Finally, Sam said, "West is... that way." She pointed her arm in the specific direction.

There was a point where objects simply became too far away to be seen clearly, but if he concentrated hard enough, Daniel was half-convinced that he could make out a vague outline of a building. That, he guessed, would be Ate's compound.

They encountered no resistance as they approached the large building, and Larrell suggested that it might be due to a lack of Jaffa; Ate simply didn't have sufficient manpower to patrol the whole of the local area. Of course, it couldn't last.

Teal'c levelled his staff weapon at two Jaffa, quickly dispatching them as he said, "O'Neill! There are two teams of Jaffa heading this way!" A quick glance to the north and south showed that what Teal'c had said was the truth.

"There should be an entrance along here somewhere." Jacob called, as the group made their way, under fire, along the edge of the compound.

There was a scream and Larrell collapsed to the ground, her left upper arm having been burnt badly by the staff weapon wielded by one of the Jaffa. The wound was cauterised, and Daniel knew that Aela was undoubtedly taking care of it. Confirmed a moment later when Teal'c helped her to her feet as she repeated, "It's alright, I'm alright," like a mantra.

The door was a rectangular opening, with the typical Goa'uld disregard for anything flowing and organic looking. It was as if they were saying 'sod nature, we're here now'. One method of imposing their way on others, Daniel supposed. But he could contemplate the connotations of Goa'uld design later, devoted his attention to destroying the lock. All it took was one well-placed zat gun blast from Jack and the lock fried, the door opening by default.

"So where do we look?" demanded Jack as the shooting continued, driving the group inside the building and into alcoves on either side of the doorway.

Larrell's head swivelled to and fro, looking at the walls surrounding her. Finally, she bent down slightly to look at the small keypad. "I can access Ate's database!" She called.

"Larrell!" Jacob yelled, trying to get the woman's attention as her fingers danced over the data access point, trying to manipulate the keys as well as she could with the use of only one hand.

Larrell ducked her head from weapons fire, and resisted the tugging on her arm for a few moments longer. "Martouf is being held in corridor six, cell twelve." She pointed. "That way. Third corridor to your right, twelfth cell on the left."

"Great! Carter, Daniel, with me. Teal'c, stay with Jacob and Larrell and guard the exit." Jack snapped as Larrell finally took to running towards Jacob and Teal'c, away from the weapons fire. The three members of the SG1 team took off down the corridor in the direction Larrell had indicated.

**

"Nine, ten, eleven..." counted Jack as they ran down the corridor. "Let's see what's behind door number twelve." A first attempt at opening the door was unsuccessful, but after shooting it with a zat gun, the lock shorted out and the door slid open.

Jack hung back around the door as Sam ran in ahead of the others. "Oh god." she breathed as she caught sight of the person they had been sent to retrieve.

He looked terrible, as if someone had decided to use him as a punching bag. Bruised all over the exposed parts of his body, and probably the parts that weren't exposed as well, he was crumpled in the corner of the cell, shaking slightly.

"Daniel, give me a hand," Sam ordered as she strode over, slinging her MP5 behind her back. She knelt down and grabbed his upper arm, wincing as she heard him hiss in pain, and turned him over, with Daniel's help.

"Don't..." Martouf's voice was weak. "Don't touch..."

"Martouf," Sam said, her voice calm and filled with a confidence she certainly did not feel. "It's alright, we're going to get you out of here."

Martouf shook his head, and it was Lantesh who spoke, his voice barely recognisable. "Ate... infected us... with... virus. Deadly. Harms symbiote. I think... passed through... physical contact."

"Shit." muttered Sam, and looked to Daniel, who had also heard that pronouncement. The two of them both had their hands resting on Martouf as they had started to pick him up.

Jacks stared at them, wondering why they had stopped moving. "What? What's wrong?"

'Nothing that a general anaesthetic wouldn't cure.' Sam thought. 'I would just like to sleep through the next few years, if some nice divine power would be so kind.'

"Lantesh says he has a virus, passed through physical contact, deadly to symbiotes." she summarised in a few short breaths.

"Nice." muttered Jack. "Ok, let's get him out of here, neither of you have snakes, so we'll worry about that in a minute."

Sam grabbed Martouf's right arm, pulling it over her shoulder, while Daniel did the same to the Tok'ra left arm, the two of them managing to get Martouf into some semblance of a standing position and start to drag him out of the cell and into the corridor. When Jack stopped dead, Daniel and Sam almost carried on walking straight into his back.

Ate was standing at the mid-point of the corridor, Jaffa no where in sight, with her arm outstretched and a nasty smile on her face. Before Jack could fire on her, a wave of energy travelled outwards from her hand and slammed him to the ground. Sam grabbed her sidearm and fire twice on the Goa'uld, but her bullets bounced harmlessly off the personal forcefield.

"Oh please," Ate said, lowering her hand. "I would have given you a little more credit than that."

"Really?" Sam said, casting a glance at her team-mates, sitting stunned on the floor, as she climbed to her feet. "I wasn't aware you felt so highly of me."

"I don't." Ate responded flatly. "You are, after all, a Tok'ra'kree'tol!"

Sam didn't bother stating that she wasn't a Tok'ra. Not only would it waste time, hadn't Garshaw herself said that the Tau'ri were Tok'ra, after a fashion? "Flattered. Really, I am."

"As much as I would enjoy a conversation with you, Tok'ra, I don't believe you have the time." Ate's eyes flickered to just behind Sam, where Jack and Daniel were getting to their feet; Jack casting his gaze about for another escape route.

"You might like to know one thing." Ate said, looking as if she were conducting a normal conversation. "While your Tok'ra friend was with us, I infected him with a virus. A particularly nasty little thing." Ate smiled. "It's passed by physical contact, and affects anyone possessing a symbiote."

"I know that. Why are you telling me this?" demanded Sam, as Ate lurked well out of arms reach.

"I'd like the pleasure of knowing that he's suffering and dying while your watching him, and knowing that you'll be scrambling for a cure without success. Unable to go near any members of the Tok'ra for fear of passing on the virus." Ate took a deep breath, and her voice acquired a sing-song quality. "These are the moments that make life worth living."

"Sorry," Sam said, in a bitter tone. "But I'll have to disappoint you."

Ate narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to call her guards, but before a single syllable could escape her, Sam leapt to her feet, bounding across the few meters between them and slipped inside the personal shield that protected Ate from attackers. That was, of course, presuming they stayed outside the field itself.

Ate's hands automatically clutched at Sam's shoulders as the other woman attacked her, and there was a moment of stunned silence as Ate glanced down at her midsection to see the bright red blood welling up. She could only stare in astonishment at the knife in Sam's hand.

"Well..." she said in a choked out voice, speech making the blood flow faster. "That was unexpected." She blinked, obviously trying to split her attention between repairing the host body and speaking to her enemy. The hand device glowed weakly, but did not activate. "You don't believe that will be enough to kill me, do you?" she asked.

"Not really." Sam pulled the knife out of Ate's stomach and ignored the other's hand suddenly tightened reflexively on her shoulders. She held up the blood stained object in front of Ate's face and regarded it as she would a specimen in the xeno-biology lab. Her eyes flicked up to Ate's.

**

Sam and Daniel, dragging the now-unconscious Martouf between the pair of them, were only a meter or so behind Jack as they exited the building and met up with their team-mates.

"Martouf, Major Carter..." Larrell started towards the group, her hand outstretched as if to help.

"Don't come any closer!" Sam almost shrieked, stopping Larrell in her tracks. "He's got some sort of virus. Affects people with symbiotes."

A slightly panicked look crossed Jacob's face. "Then you'll have to take him back to Earth with you. We can't risk taking them to the Tok'r-"

A staff weapon blast struck the ground near Jack's feet, prompting he and Teal'c to return fire, joined, after a moment, by Larrell, firing her zat'nik'atel. The sudden attack reminded them all of the need to keep moving and they started running, as fast as they could while carrying a dead-weight, back towards the Stargate.

"What about Ate?" demanded Jacob, taking the opportunity to fire at the Jaffa himself.

"Dead." responded Sam flatly, adjusting her grip on Martouf's arm to carry him a little better.

She didn't say another word as they ran through the forest, kicking up pine needles and leaving an easily-followed trail in their wake. They didn't have time to be stealthy, so they ignored the tracks and carried on straight through the forest. The Stargate was easily visible as soon as they came within a little over a hundred meters, but the time taken to traverse the distance seemed to stretch out into infinity. Sam's legs, arms and shoulders were aching and screaming at her to stop running NOW by the time they reached the Gate itself.

Jack was the first to the DHD, and, not wanting Daniel to have to let go of Martouf, starting punching in the glyphs himself. "We'll gate to a different world and alert the SGC." Teal'c and Larrell continued firing at the approaching Jaffa.

"Sam..." Jacob looked at his daughter in concern. "Are you injured?"

Sam looked at her hands, dark with blood, the fluid having covered most of her arms and soaked into the front of her jacket. She shook her head at her father and said in a dead voice, "The blood isn't mine."

The Gate opened, and she struggled up the few steps to the Gate, before practically falling through the event horizon.

**

"This is SG-1. The mission was a success and we have Gated to P9K-471. Martouf has been infected with a virus passed through physical contact. Dr Jackson and Major Carter are the only ones who have had such contact. According to their symbiotes, Teal'c, Larrell and General Carter are uninfected. Request that the SGC prepare for our arrival with a full Decon and HazMat team standing by."

**

Janet Frasier stood in the Gateroom, clothed from head to foot in the encasing protective garment that shielded her from the outside. Her air came in filtered, with a slightly sterile quality, but even so, she could smell the faint trace of disinfectant gases as they spewed thick plumes of white at the event horizon, spraying the entire six-man team, and their charge, with the choking substance.

As fits of uncontrollable coughing filled the air, Janet and her similarly garbed medical colleagues leapt forward before the team way more than halfway down the ramp, taking Martouf off their hands and placing him on a gourney.

"Ok!" Janet snapped, hoping that she could make herself heard through the suit and with the various noises in the Gateroom. "Everyone here gets to quarantine units 5 through 11, now!" Jacob looked like he was about to protest, no doubt to say that Selmak would know if he was infected. "No arguments!" she snapped, her 'I'm a doctor' voice in full force.

Turning her attention away from him to Martouf, who was now unconscious on the gourney. "Get Martouf to ICU-4, full quarantine procedures. Ok, people, let's move it!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the six members of the retrieval team trying to fight the orderlies, who were having none of their nonsense, and soon the group was being manhandled into environmental suits and out of the Gateroom just after Janet's team. As they travelled down towards the ICU unit, two airman followed, spraying the corridors with disinfectant. One thing about unpainted concrete tunnels was that they were easily cleaned in cases such as this.

They travelled up two levels to the ICU lab which had been prepared since they had received word via radio transmission through the wormhole of the situation. Unfortunately, Janet could only claim limited knowledge of the sort of relationship between host and symbiote, and what to do in cases such as this. They couldn't risk bringing in a Tok'ra healer, not with the threat that was posed, and she was certain that Jacob would agree.

Janet glanced over at the airlock which served as the entrance to the room as the transparent inner door slid aside to allow a tallish woman to enter, dressed in a suit that obviously pulled in all the wrong places. A few wisps of strawberry blonde hair drifted over her forehead, and even though she reached up to irritably brush them aside, her fingers met the faceplate and a look of chagrin passed over her face.

"Bronagh, over here!" called Janet, getting the other woman's attention.

Dr. Bronagh Lanigan approached the table, which was surrounded by a swarm of medical personnel at that precise moment, and peered at the body over Janet's shoulder, her movements hampered somewhat by the environmental suit. "Poor bastard. What happened to him?"

"Goa'uld torture." Janet responded tersely, flicking a hypodermic as best she could to get rid of the air bubble before injecting it into the IV line a nurse had set up a few moments earlier.

"No shit. He's the viral carrier I was told about, right? The Tok'ra guy?"

Janet nodded. "Right."

"Ok..." Lanigan glanced at the body and raised her voice a little so several could hear her. "I'm going to need blood and tissue samples from both host and symbiote. Salivary swabs as well..." Lanigan paused, considering. "And if it's passed by physical contact... can I get a swab of perspiration as well?"

"Unorthodox." commented Janet, to which Lanigan responded to with a shrug.

"A hunch." was all Lanigan said.

Janet raised her gaze to a mousy-looking nurse. "Nurse Atkins, you'll get what Dr. Lanigan needs once we've stabilised him." Atkins nodded and went to get the needed equipment.

"Cheers, Janet," Lanigan said. "Just have them sent down to the virology lab when you're done, ok?"

"Got it." Janet said, not looking at Lanigan as the doctor headed for the exit, her attention focused on her patient.

"Doctor Frasier..." The words spoken were weak and barely audible. Janet almost missed them through the suit and the chatter of medics and the beeping of monitors.

Janet paused in her ministrations and leaned down so she could hear him better. "Martouf. You're in the SGC, on Earth. You're going to be alright."

"Virus..." the word was a murmur. Then Martouf's eyes widened slightly. "Samantha... she... Doctor Jackson... they touched me."

Janet nodded in a reassuring manner, designed to show patients that the Doctor knew all and that they had everything under control. "I know. SG1 are being given a thorough going over by our virology team. If there's a virus in any of them, they'll find it." Martouf's eyes closed, but he obviously was doing do in pain, rather than in sleep. Janet pressed her lips together, and rested a friendly hand on his arm. "Try to rest." she instructed, glancing at a nurse, who understood the silent command and started preparing a light sedative.

A few seconds later, Martouf's eyes had closed again, this time in unconsciousness. Janet took a deep breath, and, along with her team, started working on the Tok'ra's injuries.

**

Some time later, a harried and tired-looking Janet Frasier reported to General Hammond's office to give her report on the medical situation. But the first thing she did when she arrived was to tilt her head and look at the creased piece of paper on Hammond's desk, and a smile crept onto her face. "A Pikachu?" she asked, grinning as she examined the drawing.

Hammond cleared his throat self-consciously. "A gift from my granddaughter. What's your report, Doctor?"

She handed over a file with her preliminary notes in. "Martouf's injuries were severe. His cardiopulmonary system was on the verge of collapse. I think his symbiote was the only thing keeping him alive. If he can live through the night, I think that his chances of surviving those injuries is... well, I won't say good, but better than they were before."

Hammond glanced at the files Janet had given to him. "What about this virus that SG1 mentioned?"

"You've been down to see them?" Janet asked, to which Hammond nodded in response to. "Virology's working on it. Dr. Lanigan hasn't started analysing the samples from everyone yet. She still needs to gather more data and is waiting for several files from a variety of medical institutions before she can begin."

"So in other words, Doctor," Hammond said, interrupting her as she took a breath to continue speaking. "It's a wait and see situation."

Janet sighed and nodded in agreement. "Looks that way, sir." she said finally. She stared at the Pikachu drawing. "Sir, forgive me, but, from what I've seen Cassie watching, shouldn't that thing be yellow?"

"I'm told all Kayla had was purple."

"Oh. That's nice."

"I thought so."

**

Bland would have been too pleasant a term to assign to the 'stuff' that was masquerading as food. Sam sat in the quarantine unit she had been put in and told to stay in, pushing what had probably been boiled and sterilised to a fare-thee-well at the order of the medical staff in order to extract as much of the flavour as possible around on her plate, having given up making nasty faces at it some time earlier. It didn't help that the nasty almost-medicinal smell of recycled air in the quarantine unit gave the food an even worse taste.

She sighed, unable to take her mind off the events on N'horkas. She would have been happy to forget them, and never consider them ever again. But they just kept replaying themselves over and over in her mind...

Sam knew that the memories would torment her in her sleep, but she still slumped forward onto the desk she sat at, ignoring the fact that sitting on a stool and leaning on a cold metal surface was not the best way to sleep, nor the fact that there was a cot on the other side of the room, and rested her head on her arms, closing her eyes.

She didn't know whether she actually fell asleep, but the next thing she heard, prompting her to open her eyes to slits, was the sound of the airlock door opening, and the rustling of an environmental suit as someone entered. She peered at the newcomer, recognising her after her eyes finally decided to focus. Dr. Lanigan was pushing a tray with several pieces of medical equipment on it, as well as several vials, some of which were filled with blood. One wheel of the trolley squeaked as Lanigan manhandled it into position next to the desk.

"Good morning, Major." said Lanigan, her voice hiding a trace of exhaustion.

"Morning?" Sam raised her head off her arms and looked at the clock. 4am. "Oh, I suppose it is. What are you still doing up?"

Lanigan smiled. "No rest for the wicked, or researchers pulling all nighters, I suppose." She sighed. "Someone tried to send me home, but I gave them the slip."

Sam narrowed her eyes. "And you're the one who's supposed to be taking my blood. For what, the eighth hour in a row?" Lanigan grinned. "And when can I go, I've been stuck in here for an age." She said, a slight whining note entering her voice.

"Major, we need to keep you under close observation for twenty four hours, taking continual samples for analysis. You know the routine, you've been through it often enough." Lanigan talked as she prepared the syringe for taking a blood sample. "And you should be happy. You, out of your team, are getting my undivided attention. Alright, it's divided between you and Colonel O'Neill, but he complains so much I refuse to dwell on him. The others just get sadistic nurses who work as Vampires at night." She paused, looking at Sam's rather numb expression. "That was a joke, by the way."

"I know..." Sam said. "I'm sorry. It's just..." her voice trailed off, unwilling to say more.

The Doctor paused in her preparations and looked at her curiously. "Just what?"

"I'm just... concerned."

"Concerned." Lanigan repeated, as she made Sam roll up her sleeve and deftly inserted the needle into a vein. "About...?"

"Doctor, maybe you can tell me..." Sam hesitated, then plunged ahead with what she was saying. "How's Martouf doing?"

"Martouf?" repeated Lanigan, frowning slightly as she pressed the sample container against the needle and watched as the tube filled with bright red blood. "I don't believe I know that name."

"Ah... Martouf, the Tok'ra we brought back?" Sam said.

"Oh yes." Lanigan removed the sample tube, shook it a moment and placed it on the trolley, then removed the needle and tossed it into another box labelled 'Biohazard'. "Him. Why the interest?" She picked up a chart and scrawled on it as she waited for the answer.

"I... it's personal." Sam said haltingly.

The light reflecting off Lanigan's faceplate made it impossible for Sam to discern the Doctor's expression. "No, I'm not involved with that part of the medical team. I'm with virology, so I'm in the lab most of the time." She tilted her head and her face could be seen again, a look of wry humour on her face. "Except in cases like this."

"So you've heard nothing." Sam repeated. "Nothing at all."

The other woman shook her head. "I'm sorry." she said in a soft accent. She sounded as if she'd spent a lot of time in Ireland and picked up the accent while there, never managing to shake it completely after coming back to the states.

Sam's curiosity would not be assuaged. "If you don't mind me asking... your accent... are you Irish?"

The Doctor smiled, obviously pleased to be getting off such a depressing topic. "Actually yes, I moved to this side of the pond when I was about six. Never been able to ditch the accent." She examined the vial she held carefully, then nodded. "Thanks, Major. I'll be back in about an hour for more blood samples."

Sam smiled, an expression that didn't reach her eyes, as the Doctor turned and headed for the door.

**

Twenty six hours after SG1 and their Tok'ra companions had returned through the Stargate, they gathered in the briefing room, along with General Hammond, Janet, and Lanigan, the latter dressed in labcoats that were rumpled, and, in Janet's case, had a few splatters of blood on them. SG-12 had returned through the Stargate an hour and a half earlier, with heavy casualties from a Goa'uld ambush on P4F-134, and Janet had been summoned to help. She hadn't had time to change lab-coats before coming to the meeting.

"For those of you that don't know her," Janet started off the meeting at General Hammond's nod. She gestured to the ginger haired woman sitting next to her, who wore the characteristic lab coat of all the on-base scientists. "This is Doctor Bronagh Lanigan, she's our senior virologist on staff. She's the one working on the virus itself."

"And also the one poking us full of holes taking blood, if I remember rightly." Jack said, raising an eyebrow at the Doctor, pointedly rubbing the vein on his arm.

Lanigan offered a wry smile. "You have to humour me, Colonel. It is necessary, after all."

"Yeah?" Jack said, "Who knows when I might need that pint or three of blood you've been extracting, Doctor."

Lanigan's lips quirked into a grin, quickly suppressed, especially when everyone at the table then heard Jack mutter, "Vampire."

"Alright, everyone, let's see what we know." Hammond said, bringing the meeting back on track. "Doctor Lanigan, you've taken tissue samples. Have you made any progress in learning about the virus."

"General," Lanigan said, "It takes time to conduct a detailed investigation into an unknown virus such as this. The information we have is rudimentary at best, even with the entire virology staff working-"

"Yes, or no, Doctor." interrupted Hammond.

Lanigan ground her teeth together for a brief moment before saying, "No, sir."

"Doctor, I need to know whether I can return to the Tok'ra," Jacob said in a firm tone. "The Council must be informed about this turn of events."

Lanigan inclined her head. "You don't appear to have a trace of any sort of viral infection at all. Not even everyday ailments I would expect to find in a normal Human."

"Yeah well," Jacob gave a shrug. "What can I say, Selmak's a great bug-zapper."

'I'll take that as a compliment, if a rather backhanded one.' Selmak commented mildly to her host.

"Indeed." Lanigan took a deep breath. "I checked everyone's blood samples, and I believe I've found what is the virus in both Doctor Jackson and Major Carter. However," Lanigan held up her hand to forestall Hammond. "The virus does not appear to be replicating. Or even incubating. Subsequent blood tests revealed the virus decreasing in number in both their systems. I can conclude, that it is something in a Blended individual that prompts replication of the virus, but I don't know what."

"Work on it." ordered Hammond.

Lanigan pursed her lips and glanced at her files to avoid looking at Hammond, as if to say 'what did you think I was doing?'.

"What about Martouf?" Sam asked, speaking up from her position near the end of the table.

This time it was Janet's turn to speak. "He's in serious condition. His symbiote doesn't seem to be healing his injuries properly."

"Lantesh," Larrell said, "Is probably preoccupied with fighting the virus. Secondary injuries take a back chair-"

"Back seat." interrupted Jacob. Larrell stared at him. "It's backseat, Larrell, not backchair."

"I see." said Larrell, even though she clearly did not. "The virus will take priority over his host's other injuries." she finished.

"That's as maybe, but some of these injuries are life-threatening on their own, never mind a virus." Janet took a deep breath, and started playing with her pen, turning it over in her hands, not even realising she was doing it. "We've done our best to stabilise him, but..." her voice trailed off. They all understood the implication: she couldn't guarantee anything.

Sam hesitated. "We used the Goa'uld healing device we have in our possession, but it was only minimally effective."

Hammond nodded. "I see."

Selmak took over for her host. "Not to appear ungrateful, General Hammond, nor to trivialise Martouf's condition, but it is imperative that we return to the Tok'ra as soon as possible. The Council will be most anxious for information on the situation."

Hammond nodded to the Tok'ra. "Of course, you're free to leave whenever you wish to."

Larrell glanced to Selmak. "When are we to depart?"

Selmak returned the look. "I will be returning to the homeworld as soon as possible. You, Larrell, you will remain here to liase with the Tau'ri." Selmak said, her tone brooking no argument. Larrell looked as if she were about to protest anyway, but finally nodded her head in silent acquiescence. "Monitor Martouf's condition. Undoubtedly, we, or another, will return in a short time with further instructions from the Council."

"I understand." Larrell replied.

"Teal'c," Hammond said, "You'll be responsible for Larrell while she's here?" Teal'c nodded gravely in response to this order, phrased as a question.

Selmak returned her gaze to General Hammond. "We wish to leave immediately."

"If there's nothing else?" Hammond said, looking around the table. Janet and Lanigan had been muttering to each other in low tones, falling silent when Hammond spoke, and Sam just looked miserable. No one answered him. "Alright then, dismissed."

As he headed back to his office, everyone else clambered to their feet, Lanigan scampering out of the room, while Jacob returned to control of his body and walked over to Sam.

"Sam, you're gonna be ok, right?" he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders as she stood up and faced him.

"Yeah, sure, dad. Why wouldn't I be?" Sam was aware that she was babbling a little, but didn't try and stop herself.

Jacob gave his daughter a 'who are you kidding?' look and just hugged her, neither noticing that Larrell glanced at them, grimaced, and looked away again.

**

When Jacob returned to the Tok'ra homeworld, he was greeted beneath the surface by Helen/Genra, who smiled cheerfully at him when she first saw him, but when she saw the expression on his face, her smile disappeared.

"Jacob, what's wrong?" she asked, looking concerned. "Is it something about Earth?" Helen had been a geologist on Earth, until her cancer had necessitated a drastic cure. At the same time, the Tok'ra had come to Earth looking for a new host for Genra. Over time, Jacob had learnt that she associated SG1 with her survival, and so was always very worried about their status.

Selmak said, 'Something psychological methinks.'

Jacob sent:
{amusement}

Jacob sighed. "It's a long story, Helen. Can you tell me where the Council are?"

"I think they're meeting in the chambers." Helen said, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I think they left orders to have you sent straight to them, I don't know."

Selmak sent:
{curiosity}

Selmak asked, 'Is that what I think it is on her wrist?'

Jacob caught Helen's hand as she started to lower it to her side and glanced at the brightly coloured wristband. "This is new."

Helen grinned. "Yeah, Zeb finally decided that I was progressed far enough along with my training to be promoted to student." She rolled her eyes expressively. "Go figure."

'Zeboary would not be happy to hear herself referred to as Zeb.' Selmak said.

'Zeboary is never happy.'

"Now, now." Jacob said, letting go of her arm. "It takes decades sometimes to be promoted to a high rank in a chosen field."

Helen rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I know. For people that live for centuries, what's a decade or two between friends. It's just..." Frustration appeared for a few moments on her face. "I was a geologist. Senior geologist. And now I'm saying I don't have the basic knowledge necessary for tunnel engineering. That I need to be more adept at making split-second assessments of sub-surface geological formation, and whether it's suitable for tunnelling..." Helen sighed, stopping herself by holding up her hands. "Sorry." she apologised. "You'd best get to the council. I have stuff to study."

"Alright, I'll talk to you later and tell you about what's going on." Jacob promised.

Selmak said, 'You're feeling paternal.'

Jacob sent:
{image: tongue sticking out like a child}

Selmak chuckled.

"Sure thing," responded Helen, and headed in the opposite direction to the Council Chambers, which Jacob and Selmak headed to next.

They found all seven members of the current council, standing around the large crystalline table in the centre of the room, having a discussion on a minor biological warfare agent in use on Tiire, courtesy of the Goa'uld Nekhebet, which quickly trailed off as the eighth of their number entered the chamber.

Garshaw smiled at the sight of her friend. "Ah, Jacob, Selmak, greetings."

"Took your time." Itzak said mischievously, before his symbiote took over. "Greetings also, Jacob." Zaid said gravely.

There was murmured greetings from the others which blended together into a low level mutter in Jacob's ears.

"Now that you are here," Garshaw said, as Falak/Eannda handed over a datapad of what had thus far been decided to Jacob. "Please give us your account on the success," Garshaw paused, "Or failure, of the mission with the Tau'ri."

Jacob nodded and quickly launched into a terse account of events, the entire council listening carefully, and, Selmak and he could tell, making mental notes of everything that he told them, recording it all to debate over later, when the urgency of the event was ended.

"A mixed success." noted Eannda. "Unfortunate."

"This virus of Ate's," Garshaw's expression was intense. "Did she have time to pass it to other Goa'uld?"

Jacob shook his head. "I don't believe so, no."

Olayinka, the senior Healer among the Tok'ra, leaned forward, resting her hands on her surface of the table. "This virus that affects symbiotes. What can you tell me about it? What have the Tau'ri learned?"

Jacob relinquished to Selmak's control, allowing the more educated of the two of them speak for them on this subject. "Very little. From what we were able to learn before we left, they /have/ isolated the pathogen. However, that is all they have managed to learn."

"What about anti-viral agents?" Olayinka asked, the voice distortions unable to hide the inappropriate excitement she felt about such a discovery.

Selmak sent:
{derogatory}

'Science first and always first.' Selmak said. 'Scientists are so predictable.'

"Regrettably, the Tau'ri are deficient in that area of medical research." Selmak said. "While they have managed to develop anti-bacteria agents, controlling viruses is beyond them."

"They require assistance, then, in order to develop this area they lack?" Zaid enquired.

Selmak nodded slowly. "Perhaps we should consider sending a Healer to the Tau'ri to assist them." she said.

"Inaccurate terminology," noted Breia/Dalir, from where she stood, slightly apart from the others in her section of the table, datapads neatly stacked and piled in front of her, the hallmark, in Jacob's opinion of-

'An anally retentive personality?' Selmak asked.

Jacob replied, 'I wasn't quite going to put it like that.'

Selmak stifled the urge to sigh. Of all the hosts she had encountered, Breia was the most infuriating. Her colony of Humanity had had rigid social rules, enforced by the fact that their population had exploded on a tiny island, and the Goa'uld had never let them develop ships that would have allowed them to expand. An inflexible mindset had followed around. Breia herself had been designated R-12462 before Dalir had objected strongly to having a host who was referred to by a number. She had named Breia after one of her previous host's nieces. "What do you mean?" Selmak asked, ignoring Jacob's dramatic sigh.

"They. Specify." Breia said, narrowing her eyes. "SG-1 and the scout, Larrell, or the Tau'ri species."

Chavi tilted her head. "I would class that as a linguistic inaccuracy, not a terminology one. And it is not an inaccuracy, merely ambiguity. Garshaw used 'them' as an anaphoric reference."

"Language is inaccurate." Breia said with a glower. "The usage of the word 'Tau'ri' can refer to the planet or the people, therefore my query was valid."

Several council members exchanged weary glances. This was an old argument on Breia's part.

"Pedant." Chavi said, without ire.

Breia frowned, and Selmak interjected, before she could say anything, "I refer to the Tau'ri's Stargate Command medical staff."

"The Tau'ri are technologically primitive." Breia said, disapproval firmly rooted in her voice.

Garshaw chose that moment to speak. "Breia, you would do well not to judge our allies too harshly. After all, did they not destroy Ra, who we had sought to depose of for millennia? And they managed to accomplish this only a short period of time after discovering their Chaapa'ai. How many of our enemies have they killed?"

Breia's eyes turned to Garshaw, and there was no anger there, only a slight disagreement and a cold logic. Jacob commented to Selmak that Breia always unnerved him with that look. She resembled an automaton. Selmak gently reminded her host that that was what she had essentially been before joining the Tok'ra.

Jacob sent:
{dismissal of thought}

Selmak returned:
{amusement}

'Let me have control.' Jacob said, switching to a mental 'voice'.

Selmak sent:
{compliance}

Breia said, "That they managed to perform these deeds is not under examination. However it is their methods I object to. They are still young."

Zaid's eyes flashed dimly, barely seen in the bright light of the Council Chambers. "Would you not classify your own people as young if you follow the same system, Breia? Your society was mired in fifth level technological development. The rigid codes your people developed to live with one another stifled creativity and advancement. By your standards, they are much 'older' than you were."

"You is subjective." Breia stated flatly. "I assume you do not mean myself, but my race."

Selmak commented to Jacob, 'This would be easier in French.'

Jacob sent:
{query}

Selmak smiled mentally. 'Tu? Vous?'

'Ah.' Jacob replied.

"Our technological development is no longer relevant." Breia told Zaid, eyeing him. "My race are dead. They were killed during the Goa'uld attack on our island."

"You need not remind us." Olayinka said, raising her hand and gesturing gracefully. "Many of the hosts here have suffered similar losses."

Breia's head dipped slightly in tacit consent to Olayinka's request that she speak no further of their dead. To Breia's mindset, death merely freed up more space for the living. As such, she had not really grieved for her planet or people. Her brown hair flopped over her eye, and Jacob half expected her to reach up and brush it out of her face, but the 'automaton' idea was enforced when she simply left it there.

Selmak said, 'She looks odd like that.'

Chavi seemed to agree, reaching over and patting her colleague's hair into place behind her ear. Breia blinked, but otherwise didn't respond. Chavi just smiled to herself and sighed.

"You are too quick to judge." Falak said to Breia.

"Is she truly?" Firyal asked of the group, drawing all eyes towards him. Unlike Aidan, his host, Firyal was against the whole of idea of the alliance with the Tau'ri, and had been one of the stronger opponents when the Tau'ri had first contacted them. "The Tau'ri /are/ primitive by our standard, at eighth level technological development-"

"Actually," Mitena had taken over for Chavi, her host, and the anthropologist was adding her opinion to the discussion. "Upon the commencement of frequent usage of the Chaapa'ai by the Tau'ri, and technological advancements brought about by their exploration of the galaxy-"

"Many of which were made by Sam." Jacob said, reminding all present that he /was/ of the Tau'ri, and his daughter was still there, thank you very much.

"Indeed." Mitena agreed. "Major Carter's progression in her chosen scientific field has outstripped standard expectations of her race. Ahead of her time, I believe is the Tau'ri phrase." she said, giving Jacob a sidelong look. Jacob didn't bother trying not to look embarrassed.

"No doubt in part due to Jolinar's influence." Firyal said, pessimistically.

"Jolinar was not a scientist." Zaid commented, bringing nods of agreement from many of the Councillors. Jolinar's technological expertise had been more limited to weapons, rather than pure science.

Breia said, "It cannot be discounted."

"If I may finish my commentary?" Mitena asked, smiling slightly. "With these advances, I believe that the Tau'ri are closer to a ninth level technological world, however, their societal and economic structure remains mired at sixth level, with third level military influences."

"A miracle that they ever discovered how to use the Chaapa'ai." Garshaw noted.

"But, they did." Olayinka said.

Jacob said nothing.

"We are straying from the original point of this discussion." Garshaw said, eyeing Breia, who was stopped from saying anything by Dalir, who took over and consciously relaxed her host's stance, smiling that she would not interrupt further. "I believe we were attempting to decide whether to send a Healer to the Tau'ri to assist them. Olayinka?"

The Healer tossed her pure white hair over her shoulder, and Selmak noted that several of the male Councillor's watched her moves with great attention. Selmak was almost laughing 'out loud' as she watched them craning their necks to look at the tall woman, nearly seven feet tall, by Tau'ri standards.

Selmak sent:
{amusement. men.}

"Hanne and I believe that there is little point in sending a Healer to the Tau'ri. As noted by Jacob and Selmak from their last conference with the Tau'ri on current matters, Samantha Carter retains the ability to control the healing device." She paused, thinking carefully. "She will have used it to heal Martouf's worse injuries."

"She did." Jacob interrupted.

Olayinka bowed her head, continuing smoothly as if Jacob's sentence had been anticipated. "And, as you are aware, we can offer very little to the Tau'ri in the area of viral research." Olayinka had the grace to look embarrassed. "After all, it is not an area that is of particular concern to us."

"And to send someone to the Tau'ri would be to court disaster." Firyal said with a frown. "Larrell and Aela may have been infected since Jacob and Selmak left them on the Tau'ri. To send another Tok'ra there..." he trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence.

"Firyal's point is accepted." Garshaw said. "While I do not challenge the wisdom of leaving behind a representative to the Tau'ri-"

"There were other reasons for my requesting that Larrell remained with the Tau'ri, Garshaw." Jacob said.

Garshaw paused, tilting her head, and clasped her hands in front of her midsection in a gesture that had come to be known as exclusively Garshaw's, as all her hosts proceeded to do the same after being Blended. "Then share them with us."

Selmak sent:
{hesitance}

Jacob replied:
{concurrence}

"We require more time to contemplate," Jacob said. "Before we can offer a proper argument."

"Accepted." Garshaw responded.

'When did I get so flowery with my language, Sel?'

Selmak definitely laughed this time. 'That's my influence, my dear Jacob. Can't have a host of mine talking like a Tau'ri at the Council table.' Jacob nearly sniggered out loud. Selmak had affected a mid-western accent for her last sentence. 'I /am/ after all, the oldest, wisest, and an important leader for our cause.'

'Martouf said that, didn't he? When he thought you and Sarouche were unconscious.'

Selmak sent:
{evil amusement}

Selmak said, 'He'd die if he knew I'd actually said that. He'd be convinced I'd never stop teasing him.'

'He had an idea after I said that stuff to George on Earth, in the Gateroom.'

'True.'

'I admire your restraint.'

Selmak sent:
{image: cartoon of a symbiote struggling under restraints}

"I have a question, for Breia." Jacob said.

Dalir withdrew in favour of her host; Breia actually showed surprise that someone wanted information from her, and wanted to ask her a question about it before she volunteered the information. She was always so careful to keep the Council informed on her knowledge. "Of course, you may ask." she said, curiosity barely detectable in her voice.

"Do we have any advanced scouts or infiltrators located in the Gammak sector?"

The Tok'ra responsible for the co-ordination of intelligence reports, a task she shared with Itzak/Zaid, blinked, searching her memory. "No, not to my knowledge." She glanced to Zaid, who shook his head.

"No, we have none." he concurred.

"Why do you enquire?" asked Eannda.

Jacob shook his head, smiling slightly to disperse to the curiosity of the Councillors. "No reason you need to concern yourself with." he said.

"We will not resolve this issue immediately." Garshaw said. "At tomorrow's Council session, it will become our top priority. However, Martouf is no longer under Goa'uld control, and that is all that concerned my thoughts for the moment." There were murmurs of agreement. "I believe we were about to begins deliberations for selecting our ninth."

The Council had been without a ninth member since Cordesh's betrayal. For a while, there had only been seven of them, with Erinye's removal from her Councillor position following the death of her symbiote at Cordesh's hands, and then Chavi/Mitena had been promoted.

"I maintain that Zeboary and Fenuz should be given priority consideration." Aidan said, taking over from his symbiote.

"We are in agreement." Olayinka said, speaking for herself and her host. "The senior Tunnel Engineer should have a seat on the council."

Jacob and Selmak, who had no opinion on this matter, took a mental step back, listening with half an ear to the deliberations, and began quietly conferring with one another concerning their growing suspicions.

**

The ground felt slightly warm underneath her back, and the grass itself seemed to hum. The cloud floating through the crystal sky looked like pulled cotton candy, and under a large oak tree, Teal'c and SG2 played hopscotch with a grenade.

'What this place really could use...' Sam thought idly, as she laced her fingers behind her hand as she lay on the grass in the infinitely sized park, 'Is one less sun.' Three were just too many.

"Sam!" Cassandra ran up to her and shook her shoulders. "Come on, Sam, get up!"

Sam groaned. "Cass! Just five more minutes." She tried to shake off the girls hands but it didn't work.

Cassie put her hands on her hips and stamped her foot irritably on the ground. "Samantha Carter!" she snapped. "Are you going to sleep /all/ night!"

Sam sat up and glowered. "What are you talking about? Of course I'm not!"

"Come on!" Cassie grabbed Sam's hand and pulled her to her feet. Sam, ever so reluctant to leave the warm grass behind, clambered to her feet and was jerked along behind the young girl. She went along with the child until Cass stopped and crouched in the grass, picking something up.

She turned and smiled at Sam. "Isn't it pretty?" She held a complete daisy chain in her hands. "I worked very hard at it." Cassie stood on tiptoes and put the chain around Sam's neck, and while the woman was still half-crouched to her, gave Sam a peck on the cheek and danced away to join SG2.

Sam watched her go, then started walked across the park towards the lake which dominated most of its west side. On the little sandy shore of the lake, Colonels Makepeace and Maybourne were playing a game of Volleyball against Jack and Daniel. Apophis stood slightly to one side wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, keeping score.

"Who do you think will win?" asked Martouf as he walked beside her.

Sam considered. "Makepeace and Maybourne." she answered after a moment of thought.

Martouf gave her a sidelong look. "Why do you say that?"

"Maybourne cheats."

"Fair enough." Martouf nodded. "Nice flowers." he commented.

"I thought so." said Sam, automatically reaching up to finger the dead and decaying blooms hung around her neck.

Elsewhere in the park, Ra and Hathor played a game of cards with Garshaw and Selmak. Ra was winning.

'That's odd.' Sam thought. 'I never saw Ra.'

"That'd be me." said a shapeless form, who took Martouf's place at her side. When she didn't look carefully enough, Sam could have sworn she could make out a tall blonde figure.

"This is not real." Sam stated firmly as she realised who the presence was.

"Reality, unreality, subreality, what's the difference?" Jolinar asked.

"It's not real." repeated Sam.

"This is fiction, and fiction is as real as you make it." Jolinar hesitated. "But as you are a woman of science, perhaps you would prefer the term metaphysical construct."

Sam rolled her eyes, dropping to the grass and crossing her legs, leaning backwards on her hands. The form hovered next to her as she sighed. "So I'm dreaming."

"In so many words." Jolinar said. "Yes."

"Great." Sam said. "I'd like to wake up now."

Jolinar's amusement was a sort of yellow glow that suffused the local area, lighting up the landscape. "But reality's so unpleasant, isn't it?"

Sam's neck hurt, she closed her eyes briefly to tilt her head to try and ease the crick in her bones, and when she reopened her eyes and tried to raise her head from where she had fallen asleep, leaning on the side of Martouf's bed in the ICU, she hit her head on the inside of her containment suit.

Janet glanced down at her. "Oh, you're awake." She said, as if she'd been patiently waiting for it to happen for a while, and pressed a syringe of green fluid into the IV line.

Sam grunted slightly, and pushed herself up off the metal barriers on the sides of the bed, reaching up to wipe her eyes, but ending up bashing her fingers on the faceplate of the suit. "How long...?"

"About three minutes." Janet replied, anticipating her friend's question.

"Oh." Sam said, slightly puzzled. "It seemed longer."

She'd come to the ICU shortly after her father had gone back through the Gate. Everyone who went to the ICU now had to be clothed in full quarantine suits, against the possibility of infection. In theory, only medical personnel were allowed anywhere near the unit, but Janet had made an exception in Sam's case and had permitted her to come. Sam had proceeded to spend nearly an hour sitting by Martouf's bedside, waiting to see if he would come around, so far, nothing.

"So," Sam asked, straightening on the uncomfortable stool and twisting in place. She could hear her bones clicking, but somehow, that never bothered her like it seemed to other people. "How is he?"

Janet picked up the chart from the side of the bed, not answering. She glanced at the vitals and scrawled them down onto the chart in what appeared, to Sam, to be illegible scrawl. "We're keeping him heavily sedated." she finally said, fiddling with the pen for a few moments longer than was necessary before replacing the clipboard in its designated position. She took a deep breath. "You know, he's so heavily doped up right now, I'd be extremely surprised if he could even remember his mother's name."

Sam blinked and glanced down at the figure who seemed somehow smaller than he normally did in the medical bed, surrounded by tubes and instruments that made the area seem like some mad scientist's favourite torture chamber, rather than an intensive care unit. "So he can't hear us?"

Janet shrugged, a gesture that was lost in the plastic suit. "I wouldn't be so sure. Some say that even people in the deepest of coma's can still hear people." She paused a long time, watching Sam as she bent over the Tok'ra.

'Poor woman', she thought. After hearing Sam's admission of some pretty powerful feelings for Martouf, she couldn't help but feel as if it was some personal favour to Sam to do everything in her power to save him. Not, she reminded herself, that she wouldn't do the same for every single other patient in her care. But this seemed... more important somehow. Personal.

"They say hearing's the last to go." she finally commented, more to break the long silence than to offer anything constructive.

"And the first to return."

Janet was so startled by the sudden croaking voice that she almost fell over, before remembering that the Chief Medical Officer falling over in the lab would do neither wonders for people's opinion of her competence, nor her dignity. Sam's eyes suddenly lit up, and her hand snaked over the metal bars at the side of the cot to rest on Martouf's left forearm.

"Martouf?" she whispered, a slight smile on her face.

"Marushna." was the whispered, barely audible word.

"What the..." Janet looked confused for a moment, then comprehension and chagrin warred for dominance on her face. "Of course. Lantesh is still doing his job. On the wrong things it seems. Should have realised that." She murmured the last, embarrassed that such an obvious matter would have been forgotten about. Had she not been present in the Gateroom when sedative enough to, in her own words, 'knock out an elephant' had failed to have much effect on Jolinar?

"Lantesh... apologises." Martouf said with a slight smile.

"How long have you been conscious?" Janet asked, taking the radial pulse from his wrist with great care, staring at her watch. She listened with only half an ear, her thoughts more on his vitals. The pulse rate was displayed on the monitor, but Janet had sometimes found that taking a heart rate herself was reassuring. She disliked relying /too/ much on all the wonderful technology available.

"For a few moments. Since you mentioned my mother."

Sam leaned forward as Janet dropped Martouf's wrist, laying it gently on his stomach. It had only just been healed of a fracture in the metacarpals of the wrist, and even though the Goa'uld device was generally infallible, Janet wasn't going to tempt fate.

"What's Marushna?" Sam asked Martouf, curious.

Martouf peeked open his eyes to slits and glanced at her, before closing them again, too tired to keep his attention on her. "My mother's name." he said after a moment, swallowing to try and make his voice clearer. "I watched her die."

Janet swallowed and quietly moved away; enough so that Sam and Martouf could ignore her, but close enough that she could hear everything said.

Sam was struck dumb for a moment. "Um..."

"I was only young." He continued, as if he wasn't listening to her any more. "She'd been assigned to infiltrate the court of the Goa'uld who was occupying our homeworld. They found her, tortured her, left her to die on the plains."

Sam was silent, listening with sympathy. "Was this when you were with the Tok'ra?" she asked.

"No." Martouf's head shook microscopically. "It was about seven years before then."

Sam's jaw dropped slightly, before she remembered her manners and closed her mouth. Not that it made much difference, between the drugs, her environmental suit, and the virus, it was hard to imagine that he could feel her touch, never mind see her face. "You fought the Goa'uld for seven years /before/ the Tok'ra?"

"Longer. Years longer." was the almost idle response. "We got to her a day or so before she died. She was talking to me right up to the end. I hated the Goa'uld after that even more than I did before."

Janet could see tears welling up in Sam's eyes. "Martouf, I'm so sorry."

Puzzlement crossed his face and her opened his eyes fully to look at her. His eyes were blank as he searched her face. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "But I don't think I know you."

Sam's eyes widened, and she felt tears spilling down her cheeks. She looked to Janet, who stared back with a panic-stricken expression on her own face. Sam shook her head.

"Martouf... I'm Samantha. I've known you for nearly two years..."

Martouf's confused expression remained.

'Oh my god...' Janet thought. 'It's affecting his memory. Bronagh's got to know about this...'

"I'm calling neuro." Janet said in an undertone, almost to herself. She tapped a nurse on a shoulder as the woman passed with a hypodermic filled with broad-spectrum anti-biotic passed. "Sharon, get Bronagh to meet me in neuro in ten minutes."

Sharon nodded, handing the hypodermic to Janet and headed for the airlock. The Doctor turned back to the table, saw the pained expression on Sam's face, and quickly turned away again, injecting the anti-biotic into an IV, then heading for the airlock herself.

**

Teal'c had taken his obligation to guard the Tok'ra woman (he knew that it was guard duty, and that it was also his task to quietly listen and find out as much information as he could from her) very seriously. So far, she hadn't really been able to go anywhere, but she had expressed a desire, at one point, to see the surface of the Tau'ri. Since the virus that had infected Martouf had been contained, the base was not under lockdown, so General Hammond had given his permission to allow Larrell free reign, within the SGC boundaries, on the mountain. Accompanied, of course, at all times by Teal'c.

Teal'c realised, with some surprise, that it was night on the Tau'ri world. He hadn't been paying as much attention to the passage of time as he should have been. Larrell didn't seem to mind; apparently Tok'ra could see perfectly well in the dark, and the light from the Tau'ri's single moon lit up enough of the landscape to see by. In Teal'c's opinion, three moons would have been much better, but, obviously, he had no say in how many natural satellites a planet had. And he had to admit, he /had/ grown accustomed to the moon the Tau'ri called Luna.

Larrell's attention was not on the moon, however, it was on the stellar vista that could be seen through the leaves of the trees. "Fascinating." he heard her mutter at one point, after she had insisted on stopping and craning her neck until her face was pointing towards the sky.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, bringing her attention back to Earth.

"It suddenly occurred to me." Larrell said, folding her arms and shivering slightly. Apparently the beige uniforms the Tok'ra wore were not entirely heat retentive. Understandable. They were designed with a desert environment in mind. "The stars, as they are arranged in the Tau'ri sky... several of the configurations seem to resemble glyphs on the Chaapa'ai." She blinked. "I am no starseeker," she said, turning her eyes towards the stars again. "But such configurations would only be seen from Earth."

Teal'c nodded gravely, having an idea of where the Tok'ra was going with this. "That is my understanding also. Certainly there are no constellations resembling glyphs on Chulak."

"Indeed," Larrell agreed, tilted her head and narrowing her eyes. "So why would the original Gatebuilders, whoever they were, chose to model their co-ordinate system on stellar 'constellations'," she glanced at Teal'c to make sure she was using the correct term. When she didn't get a response, she seemed to take that as an affirmation of the correct usage. "Which can only be seen from the Tau'ri?"

"I do not know." admitted Teal'c, following her gaze for a brief moment, before lowering his head. "Perhaps the Ancients deliberately sought to confuse younger races."

"Perhaps it's someone's idea of an interstellar practical joke." Larrell said.

"Perhaps." Teal'c said after a moment.

Larrell brought her focus back to ground level. "Perhaps you should ask the Asgard, hmm?" she said, a semi-mischievous, semi-serious glint in her eye. Teal'c wasn't quite sure what to make of that expression.

"The temperature is dropping rapidly." he told her. "And neither of us is adequately clothed to withstand the conditions. I suggest we return to the SGC."

Larrell nodded her assent and the two of them started down the carefully trodden path they had followed to get to the small break in the trees in the first place. SGC personnel often walked the mountain during breaks and lunches, to have a reprieve from the near claustrophobia induced by working inside a mountain, with millions of tonnes of granite hanging over their heads. The path was also used by the security patrols, one of which passed the pair on their return journey.

Larrell had just nodded her greeting to the guards and carefully avoided their dogs, when she suddenly said, "Teal'c, may I ask you a question? And please do not take the subject matter personally in any way? I wish only to know your opinion on the matter."

Teal'c glanced at her, puzzled, but nodded. "Go ahead."

Larrell was silent for a long time. Such a long time, in fact, that Teal'c began to wonder whether she had forgotten that she wished to ask him a question. He was about to prompt her when he heard her intake of breath in preparation to speak.

"Do you truly believe that the people of the Tau'ri can overcome the Goa'uld system lords?"

It hadn't been a question that Teal'c had been expecting to come from a Tok'ra, but he nevertheless answer with certainty and speed, "I do."

"Hmm..." was the response to that. He turned his head to look at her and saw her eyes narrow, never lifting her gaze from the trail though. Did she not wish to look at him as she continued this trail of thought? "The odds are not in their favour."

"The evil that the Goa'uld have done in the past will not go unpunished." Teal'c said, returning his attention to the path. "They will be defeated."

"Are not good and evil merely moral standards dictated by society?" Larrell asked, her voice oddly light. "Or by an individual?"

She realised Teal'c was staring at her in puzzlement. "My apologies," she said with a serene smile. "I was merely playing... what is the Tau'ri term...? Devil's advocate." She gestured to the forest around them. "I'm not a person who spends a great deal of time simply... walking out of doors. My mind tends to wander, it seems."

"Of course." responded Teal'c.

Larrell conducted the rest of the trip back to the entrance to Cheyenne mountain in silence.

**

"OK," Doctor Mark Meyer, the neuro-specialist on base, finished tapping in a sequence on his computer and sat back in his chair, folding his arms as he did so. Lanigan and Janet simultaneously leant slightly over his shoulders to peer at the screen themselves. "This is the most recent, and may I add, /only/, fMRI scan of your Tok'ra patient." Meyer peered at both of them. "Why didn't you send him down before?"

Lanigan coughed self-consciously. "It didn't seem necessary." she said, sounding as if she viewed this latest development as her fault. "I've never seen a virus that attacks neurological functions." She shook her head. "Days like this, I wish I'd taken my mum's advice, and become a lawyer. What'cha got, Mark?"

"Well," Meyer tapped the highlighted areas of the screen, of which there were several. "I can tell you that according to this, your patient's neurones have started misfiring. Which might actually explain the memory loss..." He glanced up at the two women to make sure they were still with him, then continued. "The neurotransmitters aren't actually being released in a lot of cases, while they are released unnecessarily in others."

"So," Janet said, interrupting him. It had been a long time since she'd brushed up on the neurosciences, and she wanted to make sure she understood every word of this perfectly. "Nerves which are not meant to be triggered are, and those that are, aren't?"

"Basically." Meyer said, bobbing his head sharply. It made him look, in Janet's opinion, something akin to a parakeet. "So when he looks at Major Carter, the nerves that should retrieve her face and its associations from his memory aren't working, while others are activated and he remembers other events, such as... what was it you said...?"

"His mother's death." Janet said, shuddering slightly. Martouf's tone as he'd briefly outlined the circumstances of his parent's demise had been dull, almost dead. She'd heard the same tone in Cassie's voice, whenever she spoke of Hanka. It wasn't often that the girl did so; the memories were still too fresh and painful. But when she did, it was like if she allowed herself to feel any emotion, allowed any inflection into her voice, she'd lose control over herself. Janet couldn't ever remember Cassie crying, sobbing her heart out, over the death of her entire planet. Maybe her adoptive daughter still hadn't quite come to terms with it...

Lanigan's voice brought her back to the present. "I don't suppose you've got any ideas about how a virus could cause this?" Her voice was only half flippant; she was willing to accept any source of inspiration by that point. Janet was disheartened by that. It showed how little progress Bronagh was making.

Meyer shrugged. "Got me. By attacking the nerve cells? Sorry, Bron, that's your department."

Lanigan hmphed softly and straightened, tugging on her labcoat. "Well, that's what they tell me." she said.

"You should get some rest." she told her colleague, as Lanigan rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn.

"I don't think so." Lanigan responded. "Just point me in the direction of a fresh pot of hot coffee, then tape the mug to my hand and return me to the lab."

Janet sighed. How many times had she had this conversation with Daniel? "Bronagh, caffeine and those stimulants I /know/ you've been taking - don't give me that Little-Miss-Innocent expression." Bronagh managed to give Janet a weak smile. "They're no substitute for rest."

Lanigan sighed. "I know, Janet, I know. It's just... I'm too tired to sleep, y'know?"

"Well, don't think you're going to have a nap in here!" Meyer said. "You'd drool all over the nice new keyboards." He gestured around the neuroscience's computer lab, which had recently been outfitted with more modern equipment.

"For your information," Lanigan started to say. "I most emphatically do /not/ drool. That's a vicious rumour spread by former lovers."

"Uh-huh." Meyer didn't sound convinced.

"Come on," Janet tugged on Lanigan's lab coat, steering the Doctor in the direction of the door, and giving her a push to get her moving. Lanigan moved unprotestingly. "I'll take you to your quarters and give you six hours to get some rest."

"OK..." Lanigan wearily agreed. "But you have to do the same. I know you've been working on that Tok'ra, practically non-stop." Lanigan smiled at Janet and winked. "Cat napping in your office is no substitute for real rest, y'know."

Janet grinned, and a little part of her mind knew that Lanigan was right. "Ok ok, but I'll only give myself four hours. I /have/ been napping, after all."

Lanigan rolled her eyes. "Deal." They were approaching the medical quarters, located near the labs, for those weary scientists who were pulling all nighters for research projects. She sighed. "Janet, if I could just decipher the virus' replication mechanism, I know I could crack it. But all the samples we have in the lab are just inert. They won't attack cells, they won't replicate. And yet, in a living Blended individual, they're tearing the body's systems apart!" Lanigan's voice was raising, and Janet knew the Doctor would never get any sleep in her state.

"Maybe you should sleep on it." Janet suggested. They were approaching the medical quarters. "Now, no more than six hours, y'hear me?" Lanigan said, wagging her finger at the CMO.

Janet grinned. "Of course."

**

"Three is all, all are three. Host, Symbiote, Blended. Three." Zeboary passed her transparent mug of hot red liquid to her left hand and ticked off the numbers on her right. "Primary, secondary, tertiary. Three threes are nine."

The current occupants of the Tunnel Engineer's lounge stared in confusion at her. Helen, sitting on the floor, idly dipping her fingertips into the warm water of the reflecting pool inset into the floor in the centre of room, tilting her head, hands still for a moment.

"That doesn't really answer my question." she pointed out.

Zeboary looked heaven-ward, offering a free supplication to the deities of her people. She'd need some Goddess-given strength to get through the next few minutes, she could just feel it.

Fenuz sent:
{derogatory: religion}

Zeboary replied:
{amusement}

She was sitting in the lounge that the Tok'ra Tunnel Engineers frequented whenever they were not busy with their work. Generally, after the initial construction of a facility, engineers were rarely needed in that capacity again, since the Tok'ra only built as needed. As such, the Engineer's lounge was larger than most, and it was almost more comfortable. There were actually some cushions scattered around the room.

It was roughly oval shaped, with two entrances opposite one another on the longer sides, and had a similarly shaped reflecting pool inset into the floor, rather than standing above on tables. There were few chairs, viewed as far too uncomfortable, but there were several long tables, and crystalline extrusions used as stools, available for engineers who were working or studying in a relaxing environment. The rest of the 'seating' consisted of a cushions and padding scattered all over the floor on which Engineers lounged, some sitting around a few low tables that only came up to a person's knee when they stood. The most people, though, were gathered around the pool, which picked up the heat from the geothermal crystals embedded in the floor, and became warmed.

Helen had been absently flicking the water and watching the ripples it made as the droplets hit the surface, when she had suddenly said, "I heard you're tipped to be next on the Council." to Zeboary. "Why are there nine members of the Council?" to which Zeboary had responded to with a rather cryptic answer.

"It does answer it," Zeboary maintained, setting her face into her 'I'm a Senior, so don't mess with me' expression.

"Um... actually..." Zoorna, a rather elfin looking young woman with the appropriately cute curls dangling around her face (Zeboary, who couldn't get her dull brown hair to even appear as if there was any life in it, was intensely jealous of that hair, not that Fenuz would ever let her show it), cleared her throat. "I didn't understand a word of that either."

"I did." Saleil said, looking superior.

Tuya/Sanan, the symbiote in charge, said, "You would."

Zeboary narrowed her eyes, and set her mug of tea on the floor next to her and crossed her legs, resting her elbows on her knees, assuming her 'lecture' position. She had a catalogue of such expressions and positions. "How many others here," she said, sweeping the room with a gaze, looking at the Engineers who had turned away from their own conversations to listen to the Senior, "Also do not know the reason for the number of Councillors?" She tilted her head. "Show of hands?"

Fenuz sent:
{amusement}

Fenuz said, 'It would be easier to count those whose hands are not raised.'

Zeboary waved a hand, gesturing for people to lower their hands. "Very well. My suggestion is that you all listen closely, as I will say this once only."

She took a deep breath and gestured to Helen. "You wished to know the reason for the nine. There are three triads in the Council. Primary, secondary, tertiary. Garshaw is first in Primary. Selmak is second in Primary. Cordesh was third, but is no longer. Olayinka was first in Secondary, but is now third in Primary."

Zeboary noted Zoorna's fingers fluttering relentlessly and turned her attention to the woman. "What is it?"

"You still make little sense," Zoorna reminded her. "Alith grows most impatient."

"Alith should know this." Zeboary said, irritation in her voice. "And while I think of it, all of you should know this."

"We have better things," Rali said, appearing bored. "To do that work out the significance of Council members. So, the question is more, how do you know?"

Saleil said, with amusement, "That should be obvious, Rali dear. You learn a great many things while mated to an anthropologist."

Zeboary sent:
{embarrassment}

Fenuz said, 'You're blushing.'

"For your bettered knowledge," Zeboary said, raising her chin slightly. "It was in fact Mitena's previous host, Helakui, who introduced me to this information." A smile tugged at her lips. "He was quite a... studious... individual."

There were several knowing chuckles from some of the Engineers, before they managed to suppress them, knowing that if Fenuz found out their names, she would hunt them down later.

"Primary, secondary..." Zoorna was obviously still relaying for Alith. "It makes little sense."

Zeboary sighed and held up nine fingers. "There are nine on the Council. Three threes. Three triads. Primary is Garshaw, Selmak and Olayinka." She pulled down a finger for each name she reeled off. "Secondary is Dalir, Eannda, and Zaid. Tertiary is incomplete. Tertiary is Firyal and Mitena."

"Right," Helen said, pulling her hand out of the water and wiping it off on her skirt. "So, three triads. Three ranks. Primary, secondary, tertiary. Why?"

"Tertiary is concerned with minutia of our group. Secondary with intelligence and resources. Primary is concerned with overall status of the Tok'ra and our fight." Zeboary shrugged. "Arbitrary designated functions. Apart from Primary. That is a constant. Garshaw is Prime. Dalir and Firyal are Prime. But only within their triads. Garshaw is Prime over all."

"Of course." Saleil said, apparently having lost patience with her explanation. "She's the leader of the council. This is not in dispute."

"It is not." Zeboary agreed.

There was a loud shriek, that caused several people to jump, as Zoorna leapt several meters (apparently in defiance of gravity) and knocked into Zeboary, who lashed out with an arm to stop herself from falling over completely, but wound up knocking her mug of tea into the reflecting pool.

"I've got it." Zeboary said with tiredly, pushing her sleeve up her arm as far as it would and leaning forward to fish around in the pool for her mug.

Saleil was giving the new arrival a nasty look. Niauli had seen fit to startle Zoorna into relinquishing to her symbiote, who was glaring belligerently at Niauli/Yshyn, and breathing heavily. "Do you always have to do that?" he asked her.

Niauli shrugged elegantly. "I have to keep your reflexes up to standard through some method." the host said, "And I get so little other enjoyment in my life."

"Why don't you just go and sleep with someone?" Helen asked, grinning slightly. "That'd keep you away from us."

"Who says she's not?" Zeboary said, her fingers finding the mug at the bottom of the pool and closing around it. She lifted it out of the liquid and frowned. The warm water had turned a sort of pink colour.

Fenuz sent:
{ooooohhhh}

Zeboary replied:
{exasperation}

Zeboary said to her symbiote, 'Don't be facetious.'

Fenuz replied, 'But it's suuuch a preeetty colour...'

"Quite." responded Niauli. "But I do have a reason for being here. Yshyn and I were merely giving in to our uncontrollable desire to frighten people."

Zeboary couldn't quite tell, with Niauli's deadpan delivery, whether or not the Weapon's Senior was joking or not. "Enlighten us, please." she said.

Fenuz said, 'Your bracelet is soaking.'

Zeboary glanced at the colourful affair on her wrist. The bright purple and blue denoted her as a Tunnel Engineer, as did the bracelets of all those in the room (apart from Niauli, who wore red, and was a weapons technologist), and the silver beads strung on the end showed she was Senior. Water was soaked through, and it seemed to be shrinking a little as it dried.

Zeboary sent:
{irrelevance}

"One zat'nik'atel is missing from the armoury." Niauli said, her expression intense. "I am enquiring as to whether anyone here failed to return one they have taken, or have seen a spare in any location."

Zeboary glanced around, seeing nothing but blank faces staring back at her. The Senior Tunnel Engineer turned her attention to Niauli. "Our apologies, but no."

Niauli sighed. "Very well. Likely a sentry failed to return theirs after completing duty. It would not be the first time." she muttered, almost to herself. Or her symbiote. "Apologies for disruption." she said, and glanced at Alith. "You should see a Healer about your nerves." she commented. "Likely Olayinka has a sedative agent that would aid."

Alith's reply was unrepeatable.

"Your language charms." Niauli said, and glanced at Zeboary with curiosity. "What is it you were discussing before my intrusion?"

"Zeboary was trying to explain the whole Council of Nine deal..." Helen said, raising her voice to be heard over the murmurs of independent conversation that had sprung up within a few seconds. "Badly."

Zeboary frowned at Helen. "You do not wish to progress beyond student level, do you?" Helen's face fell and Zeboary nodded briskly. "Apparently you do."

"I wish you luck in that," Niauli said to Zeboary. "I have been attempting to understand it for decades. Or at least Yshyn has. All I am aware of is there are nine councillors, arranged in three ranks. When one dies, all move up. That brings up an opening in the last triad, at the most junior level."

"That makes more sense than anything she said." Saleil said, jerking a thumb in Zeboary's direction.

"Just for that, Saleil," Zeboary said. "You get to generate the new room in Tunnel Seven we were scheduled to do tomorrow."

Saleil's face also fell.

Zeboary said, 'That's what I get for trying to inject a little interest into my explanations.'

Fenuz said, 'Your loquacious attitude may actually get us that position on the council.'

Zeboary frowned. 'That was a veiled insult, was it not?'

Fenuz sent:
{neutrality}

Fenuz said, 'Maybe.'

Zeboary sent:
{ugh!}

**

Sam's coffee was hot as hell, sweet as honey, black as death, and strong enough to wake the dead. Not normally the way she took her caffeine, but it was exactly what she needed. It was Daniel's secret blend that he'd handed her when she'd stumbled out of the ICU lab twenty minutes earlier. She had no idea how he'd known when she was coming out, or how to have a steaming mug of the stuff with him, but she wasn't going to argue. She was just grateful.

"Good morning, Sam." came Janet's voice, as the Doctor approached her. Sam had been lurking in a little alcove in one of the corridors, and, somehow, people had not been seeing her. Obviously, Janet had actually been looking for her.

"Nothing good about it," Sam responded miserably, ignoring the pitying look Janet cast on her, as well as the Doctor's relative alertness.

Janet, for her part, just thought that Sam looked like hell, and was tempted to haul her off to the infirmary, drug her up to the eyeballs with soporific, and let her sleep until christmas. "Been up late again with Martouf, right?"

Sam stared at her for a moment, debating whether or not to say anything, and opened her mouth to answer her friend-

"Dammit Janet!" Sam turned slightly to see Lanigan turn the corner, straightening the collar of her lab coat hurriedly, and looking annoying. Her hair was mussed, as if she'd not glanced in the mirror yet, and her eyes looked slightly out of focus. There was nothing blurred about her voice, however, nor the words she spoke. "I said six hours. Not six and a half, not seven, and certainly not eight!"

"Hello Bronagh," Janet said, suppressed amusment in her voice, ignoring the Doctor's ire as Lanigan swept down the corridor and past them, heading in the direction of virology. Janet patted Sam's arm. "Let's give her some time to calm down and to put away the sharp scalpel-type objects before we check up on her." Janet glanced to her right. They were only a few doors down from the medical common room for this section, and, if Janet remembered correctly, it was usually deserted at this point in the day.

"Come on," she said, gently touching Sam's arm with a finger to get her attention, and starting off down the corridor.

The common room was a place for medics who were off-duty or on a break in that section of the medical wing. There were a lot of comfortable chairs, and was obviously frequently used, considering the almost empty coffee pot and the countless upturned, recently washed mugs on the draining board beside the sink. Janet grabbed a mug with the slogan 'Party Chick' emblazoned on the side and headed for the coffee itself.

Someone had left the milk on the hotplate, and it had gone off.

"Ugh!" Janet's stomach did a quick flip as her nose got a whiff of what was left of the milk, and she strode over to the sink to pour the whit