Embedded Files
The Sun On The Horizon
Ten
Buried in the Web
Here come and sit, where never serpent hisses,
And being set, I’ll smother thee with kisses.
Artwork: Adonis Love by Victor Haddad
Daniel blindly followed Ba'al, into the Al’kesh, down garish golden corridors to the control deck. Away from Yu, and his undisguised lust for possession and power.
Ba'al seated himself in the co-pilot’s chair. Daniel sagged to the floor behind him, clutched the red silk sheet tighter around his body and concentrated on breathing.
He gagged and valiantly resisted throwing up.
“Ah. The proximity of Lord Yu has triggered the defensive actions of your God’s Breath,” Ba'al commented. “A useful property of Our Breath that dissuades another System Lord who seeks to… acquire one who is in Our favour. It will ease soon.”
Daniel squinted at Ba'al, comprehension beyond his reach. A container filled with sweet-scented water appeared in front of his face. He looked up, blearily recognised Elsh, and took the drink gratefully.
The blue sky of Yu’s home swiftly turned to the blackness of space, and in no time they were docked on Ba'al’s Ha’tak. Daniel trailed Ba'al through endless corridors, the sheet dragging like the train of a despoiled wedding gown. His befuddled head and upset stomach gradually settled by the time Ba'al swept onto the Peltak, his orders sending the waiting soldiers into action. The ship gathered speed and left Yu’s world a rapidly shrinking blue speck behind them.
Ba'al turned and gathered Daniel to him in a companionable embrace. Startled, Daniel stared into the Goa'uld’s eyes, then felt the sharp tug of displacement as the ship fled to hyperspace. Ba'al held their clinch for longer than was necessary. He pressed his hand-device to Daniel’s throat, squeezing gently. When he removed his hand, the silencer went with it, deactivated. He sauntered off, dispersing the Jaffa until only the two of them remained.
The Goa'uld stood facing the force-shielded window, staring at the streaks of light that marked their passage. Daniel wondered if the light was from stars the ship passed or some other astronomical phenomenon. Sam would know. He closed his eyes and coughed. Hunger gurgled his stomach, replacing the Yu-induced nausea. What the hell happened down there? Accusations, threats, preposterous claims of ambition and deception swam through his head. Was it all true? Or none of it? Tired, confused and missing the strength of his friends, he looked for a seat. The only available one was Ba'al’s stone throne, but before he could get to it Ba'al glanced over his shoulder and grinned at him.
“Is it not magnificent, Daniel?”
Daniel fought the Nishta-induced response to plaster himself to Ba'al’s side. He resumed his slow walk to the throne, clutched one of the stone lion armrests, and lowered his trembling body onto the cold seat. “Ra’s was bigger,” he sniped, deliberately referring to the ship and not the view.
Oddly, instead of being angry, Ba'al’s grin widened, delighted for some reason that escaped Daniel. “You are correct, my dear Daniel. Our humble vessel pales in the shadow of Ra’s mighty warship – a ship all System Lords aspired to possess. We have heard the tales, Daniel, that you had the honour of meeting Ra on his Ha’tak, Mi’Canah.”
First Ship of the Stars. An apt name. “Yes, I did. Just before I had the honour of blowing him to space dust.” He hoped Jack wouldn’t mind being left out of that claim to fame, just this once.
“Indeed you did. Indeed….” Ba'al trailed off, thoughtfully eyeing him.
Daniel met Ba'al’s stare with his own. Even though the Nishta continued to cloud his thoughts, the scene that had recently played out with Yu was becoming clearer in his mind. “How many more lies are you going to come up with? There’s no way in hell I’ll spy for you. Subterfuge is not one of my strengths, so even if you manage to… brainwash me, I can guarantee I’ll be discovered well before I can achieve your objectives. That, or my own people will take me down.”
“You underestimate your own skills, Daniel.” Ba'al began to slowly pace along the length of the window, hands clasped behind his back, head turning to keep Daniel in sight. “Fear not, when Our work on Tsydon is done, the threat Anubis posses will cease to exist.”
“Osiris did not turn me into his spy.” He refused to believe it. Just… no. “What you told Yu, it was all a lie?” His voice rose questioningly as his brain finally processed what Ba'al had said on the planet. “She didn’t do anything to me, apart from trying to kill me. And you’re not brainwashing me to spy on Osiris or Anubis. You’re looking for something. It was all a sham. You lied to Yu, to me… everything you say is a lie.” He closed his eyes, his head pounding. “Haven’t you done enough to me already?” The words slipped past his defences. The future held only the promise of more scans, more memories being shredded from his brain. Soon there would be nothing of him that Ba'al couldn’t toy with and use for his own purposes. “And what happens to me when you’re done? Throw me away like yesterday’s newspaper?” That Ba'al would return him to Earth as originally promised was now clearly never going to happen.
“We may have lied to Lord Yu.” Ba'al’s voice was soft, regretful even. “But We have not lied to you, Daniel. Our goals are as We have stated to you many times. And only your unique knowledge will help Us achieve them. We have not deceived you on this.”
Daniel let a hopeless snicker of laughter escape him. “So you’re gonna be head god of the galaxy. Nothing ever changes. Certainly not a Goa'uld.”
“As We told you earlier, Daniel, We have no desire to replace Ra. His rule was unparalleled, and stabilised Goa'uld society for thousands of years. Even I,” he gave a mock-humble bow, “could not hope to replicate such an endeavour. We plan to rule as a Triad, our partners and Ourselves. With the assistance of Yu and others, we will undermine Anubis and bring a new era of peace and stability to both our peoples.”
Daniel considered him for long moments. “Right. This Triad is you, Osiris and…?”
“And one who will be revealed to you in due time. With Our loved ones by Our side—oh, Daniel! The future brings such promise. However, time becomes limited, Daniel. We are not as progressed with your scans as We had anticipated.” Ba'al wandered away to stare at the streaking star-field. “The scarring was unexpected. It prevents us from finding that which we seek.”
Dread clutched at him, making Daniel grimace. He wanted to deny it – loudly, vehemently – that he wasn’t damaged, not marked by the insidious sarcophagus’ relentless attempts to heal his undamaged body. Or was it? He tuned out Ba'al’s monologue on the evils of Anubis and let his thoughts run. The sarcophagus sought out damage and repaired it. He’d thought that after the initial treatment there had been nothing to fix, but that hadn’t been true. He’d seen the scarring on his brain scans, so fine and hidden Janet had never discovered it. The sarcophagus had found, and healed, damage to his brain that had been minute enough to not cause any obvious symptoms.
And what had caused that damage? When? He wasn’t short of candidates. The list he’d given Ba'al in the scanning room was frightening to consider, but he’d put a month’s pay on either Nem’s memory sifter or having his brain drilled by both Klorel and Ra. He rested his head in his hand and closed his eyes. The pain of the hand-device had been like nothing he’d ever experienced before. It had haunted his dreams for years until other events challenged it for space in his lonely sleep. How ironic. The use of Shyla’s sarcophagus had sent him on a spiral of destructive addiction, yet at the same time it had healed a silent damage that may have caused even greater harm. Might have ended up in the white room a lot sooner than I did.
“Daniel?” Ba'al’s soft, insistent voice broke through maudlin reverie, making him start.
Looking up he found Ba'al right in front of him. “What?”
“Come, Daniel. You are tired. It’s time to rest.”
Å
Down endless gold-plated corridors, Daniel followed Ba'al until his fogged brain finally registered the difference in this area of the ship. Guards stood in pairs at intervals of ten feet, armed and serious. These were not the usual ranks of Jaffa that populated the rest of the ship. They were dressed in the royal purple tunic and pants of the household guard – Rephaim. Puzzled, he slowed, only to have Ba'al grab him and tug him along. He twisted his arm, but was completely unable to break free.
“What—where are you going?”
“Our plans must proceed without delay, Daniel.” Ba'al towed him through a doorway guarded by four Rephaim, and into a large room.
Anger and uncertainty surged through him, loosening the Nishta’s hold on him. “What are you doing? Let me go.”
Ba'al halted in front of an enormous wall painting, a vibrant jumble of planets, astronomical wonders and Goa'uld that Daniel could barely make sense of before it swept up to reveal a door, which swung open into a dimly lit room.
Certain nothing good could be in such a place, he pulled back. “No.”
Unperturbed, Ba'al entered the room, his relentless hold on Daniel’s arm giving no choice. “Now, Daniel, there is nothing to fear. We know the scarring We discovered upsets you. We wish only to heal you.”
“Heal…?” A chill prickled his skin.
“You will sleep a healing sleep, Daniel,” Ba'al continued. The lights brightened around them. “And when you awaken we will be home, and ready to continue with Our plan to free our people.”
The lights shone off the golden surface of the only object in the room. Ba'al’s words washed over him. All Daniel could do was stare in horror at the gleaming sarcophagus. His brain, his breath, his heart – all slammed to a halt. Abject terror, more raw and pure than anything he’d ever experienced engulfed him.
Somewhere, someone was making a horrible sound, a low keen of anguished lust. Ba'al was looking at him like he’d lost his mind, and Daniel thought perhaps he just had as he realised the sound was coming from himself.
The jaws of the beast cracked open. One, two steps and he’d be in it. Craving surged in his blood, a sensation he’d never wanted, never dared hope to experience again. As he’d proved once before, in a dull concrete room buried under a mountain, the Breath of the Gods, Nishta, could fuel desperation and channel it into unexpected strength. In a detached, dream-like vision, he saw his hand break Ba'al’s grip – and possibly some fingers – saw surprise on Ba'al’s face turn to alarm as Daniel ducked his reaching grasp, spun on one foot and slam an elbow into the back of the Goa'uld’s host’s neck. Ba'al fell in slow motion, shocked and speechless.
Daniel plunged for the door and fled, heedless of direction, as long as it was away from that soul destroying, infernal machine. Gold corridors flashed by, melding into each other. Surprised faces came near, fell to the floor. Alarms and shouting filled his head with their din, but failed to halt his headlong dash to – where? It didn’t matter. As long as it was away. Something grabbed his legs, pulled him down, but he twisted, kicked, clawed upright and staggered on. Doors opened before him, empty ones he ran through, others filled with angry men turned him in another direction. One open door swallowed him in, presented another with an inviting window that beckoned with the cold emptiness of space. He reached for it… and his body sizzled with blue fire. Nerves screaming, he lurched and slid down the door, useless fingers falling away from the big red button that led to freedom.
Å
Awareness filtered back to Daniel, through nerves and senses still thrumming with remnants of the zat blast. His mind was clear though, the Nishta burned away by the electrical charge. He concentrated on breathing and listened to the sounds around him: booted footsteps, a dull metallic clink of body armour, further off a conversation in hushed, worried tones. He opened one eye, saw boots just inches from his face.
Apparently he was lying on the floor…. Yep, with wrists and ankles tightly bound. Yu’s red silk sheet had no doubt fallen by the wayside and nobody had bothered to cover him. The polished metal floor was cold, but immaculately clean. Points to the Jaffa for their housekeeping, then.
The voices outside changed, one snapped orders, which silenced the others. The boots by his face clunked together, their wearer jerking to attention as another man entered the tiny room, his boots’ highly polished leather reflected Daniel’s face. He stared at himself, unable to muster any further energy. One by one, the Jaffa retreated out of sight, leaving Daniel with Ba'al, who sighed and seemed at a loss for words.
Any minute now he’ll call them back and have them throw me in… it. Vainly, he tried to prepare, to think of a way to escape the disgusting addiction and madness that was his only foreseeable future. Nothing. He was doomed, as defenceless as if he’d been taken as a host. Unless….
“Kill me.” The words rang in his ears, unreal and sickening.
“Kill you?” Ba'al crouched down. “We have assured you Daniel, that We intend no harm to you. We wish only to help you. Yet, you run from Us, attack Us and Our Jaffa, injuring many of them. Why?”
“It won’t work. You said there was scarring. That means whatever was damaged has already been healed. All it will do is send me mad. The human body can’t withstand the affects of the sarcophagus when there’s no actual injury to heal. It just….” Robs you of your humanity. “Please. I know I can’t stop you, but I’m begging. Kill me before you put me in the sarcophagus.” With death to heal, maybe he stood some chance of keeping his soul intact.
Cloth rustled as Ba'al seated himself on the floor. Daniel switched his gaze to the star-streaked darkness beyond the door’s view port.
“You have used a sarcophagus, Daniel.” It was a statement, not a question. “Many times, for you to now fear it so much. We have heard tales of the effect it has on humans. It is why we do not allow anyone to use them. Only a System Lord possess the strength of mind to resist its addictive qualities.” His hand touched Daniel’s, making him flinch.
Daniel silently cursed himself and braced for the killing blow. If Jack ever found out….
Ba'al’s fingers threaded through his hair, restless, absently thoughtful almost. Quiet minutes ticked by.
“No,” Ba'al declared loudly, making Daniel start again. “We shall not subject you to Our sarcophagus, nor shall We take your life, for however short a time. In fact…. You are most fortunate, Daniel. We possess the means to tend to you and allow Us to find that which we seek without resorting to the degradation you fear. And, We shall be able to accommodate Our Lady’s needs at the same time.” He patted Daniel’s bare shoulder and stood. “Yes. We shall follow a new course of action, which will enrich all three of us.”
Ba'al called his Jaffa, and stood aside as they hauled Daniel to his feet and released the bindings. Exhaustion crashing down on him, he dimly felt the rough soldier’s cloak wrapped around his naked, shivering body. The Jaffa withdrew, leaving him to stare blankly at Ba'al.
“Come, Daniel.” Ba'al stepped out into the corridor. “An airlock is no place for either of us.”
Airlock? He glanced around the little space. An awful chill crept over him as he stared at the big red button – the outer hatch release. Only the open inner door had kept him from dying a quick, agonising death.
Numb, he joined Ba'al and saw Elsh standing deferentially some feet behind.
“Go with Elsh, Daniel. Eat, rest. Upon our return home there will be much work to do.”
“Home. Work.” His thoughts were still spinning but only single words were getting through. He stared at Ba'al, trying hard to see the intent masked by the smile. Daniel felt something inside him harden. Yes, he would eat and sleep, and he’d make his body and scattered brain ready to fight Ba'al – any way he could. And just maybe, at the end of it, he could go home.
Homecoming
Ba'al’s return to Tsydon was nothing short of triumphal. Forgoing the transport rings in the Great Hall, Ba'al had them deposited at the entrance to the causeway, where they were met by cheering locals, Rephaim and the Court. They made a slow, noisy promenade up the causeway and into the citadel with Ba'al dispensing gifts to his Companions as he went. Daniel, now immaculately dressed in pants and a sleeveless jacket of midday blue, paced a step behind Ba'al, fighting to focus his thoughts over both the recent fresh dose of Nishta and the clamour around him. Impossible.
Pidray and Anath grabbed him, delightedly waving the decorated fans Ba'al had given them, before dashing away to share in the bounty of silks, perfumes, clothes, even tea sets that Ba'al dispensed from chests stacked in the citadel’s forecourt. He went shopping? When? It was too much to concentrate on.
The fog in his brain rolled over his thoughts leaving him unresponsive to the outside world. The tumult subsided and someone was tugging on his arm, encouraging him up the steps. He looked up at the stained glass over the massive doors, blinded by the sun’s reflection. He faltered, stopped on the threshold and when the dazzlement left his eyes he stared at Astarte, poised trembling in front of him. Tears glistened her eyes. Her voluptuous red mouth quivered with an attempted smile.
“Ah! Our love.” Ba'al came up behind Daniel, one hand clamped possessively on his shoulder, the other reaching past him to caress Astarte’s cheek. “We have returned as We promised. Our Adon and Ourselves are enriched to be in your presence once more.”
She pressed a kiss into Ba'al’s palm, then caught Daniel’s hand and kissed his fingers. “Our desolation ends, beloved.” She stared at him, hunger and determination clear in her eyes.
Daniel blinked. Odd. Astarte was six inches away from him and he wasn’t feeling any of the nausea he’d experienced in Yu’s presence. Was the Nishta that selective? Or was it Ba'al’s close association with Astarte that gave Daniel a kind of immunity to her Goa'uld? Was that a good thing? Probably not.
Ba'al was whispering in her ear. Astarte looked pleased, kissed him and then Daniel. A firm grip on his arm drew Daniel through the entrance. Consorts and concubines flooded into the hall behind them, a riot of chatter and laughter. Music, rising up from oud and drum players tucked into niches along the walls, joined the excited hubbub. As his lovers swamped Ba’al, Daniel edged away, and hovered on the fringe of the developing party.
He’d slept for the rest of the journey back to Tsydon, and woken with a blessedly clear head. That hadn’t lasted long though. Ba'al had interrupted him in the middle of dressing, caught him up in another pseudo-jovial hug and once again dosed him with Nishta. Only an hour later, the effects were still strong: the mindless desire to plunge into the happy throng, displace whoever currently had his master’s attention and beg for a look, a touch, anything…. He shuddered. Not master. Ba'al. Goa'uld. Bad guy. He pulled away from the memory of the Goa'uld’s embrace, the way his skin crawled under his touch.
Daniel managed to step further back, his head a little clearer. Something soft bumped against his back. “Sorry,” he mumbled, and moved aside. A small hand curled around his arm, making him look down. Arsay, consort and daughter of Ba'al, gazed shyly up at him.
“Adon, our Lord’s blessing has brought you safely home to us. Can—can you tell me what it was like to travel through the stars? Never have I left our home, but I do imagine it to be the most wondrous experience to soar through the darkness.”
“Uh, yeah, it’s interesting.” He absently glanced at her.
“Are the stars really all colours of the living world, as Helel says they are? I think he invents such stories to tease us. Everyone can see they glow white in the night sky.”
His attention drifted away from her, senses automatically tracking where he was. He caught himself and forced an answer. “Yes, they really are colourful. Every shade you could imagine.”
“Oh, how blessed you are, Adon. I strive every day to be a worthy Companion so that perhaps one day our Lord will favour me so, and take me into the stars.” She fanned her face and gazed wistfully at Ba'al.
Daniel stared at her: a young Goa'uld, dependent on the largesse of one more powerful than her for her entire existence. There’s so much we don’t know about them. Will she turn into a queen one day, or does she stay a servant her whole life? And how long do the lower ranked Goa'uld live? Can’t imagine Ba'al letting them hop in the sarcophagus with him….
And then his brain conjured up a truly awful image of Ba'al and his Companions having a ménage-a-many in the sarcophagus. He shook himself and wished, not for the first time, that his imagination would shut up and leave him alone.
He tore his gaze away from Arsay’s dreamy expression and looked over the revellers in the Great Hall, wondering if he could slip away unnoticed to his room. Maybe up the stairs….
Ba'al and Astarte stood halfway up the staircase, smiling benevolently down on the happy crowd. Ba'al’s eyes connected instantly with Daniel’s, and without conscious thought he was moving. Slipping between laughing dancers, Daniel was drawn across the echoing room and up the steps, halting two down from where his—Ba'al stood. The Goa'uld reached out to him and patted down a stray lock of hair.
“We are greatly blessed, are We not Adon, to receive such a joyous greeting from Our household?”
Daniel tried not to look up at him, tried not to lean into his touch, to yearn for more. He failed. Again. “Yes,” he whispered.
Another hand replaced Ba'al’s, and drew his gaze up to meet intense green eyes. “Welcome home, Eshmun,” Astarte purred. “My heart has withered without your presence. I need your beauty by my side so that I may blossom to life, as the spring feeds the anemone.”
“My Lady,” he murmured. Wondering again why her nearness wasn’t affecting him, instead there was a compulsion to press his lips to her hand, kiss her fingers and wish she would touch more of his skin. Ba'al and Astarte were conversing softly over his head. He ignored them and inched closer to the Lady, feeling the bond between himself and Ba'al stretch to accommodate the Lady.
“The sun rises strong in the sky, beloved,” she whispered. “My heart beats once more now you are returned.” She caressed her fingers over Daniel’s bowed head. “My sun and moon come home. Will my Lord come to my bower?”
“Alas, Our heart, We have the tedious business of Our realm to tend.”
Astarte pulled her hand back, her distressed protests igniting Daniel’s own fears. He sidled closer to her, as if inches further from Ba'al would protect him. Ba'al’s hand gripped his shoulder, making him flinch.
“It is Our deep regret We cannot be with Our love in the sun’s light. But perhaps Our Adon would keep by your side in Our stead.” Ba'al ran his hand under Daniel’s chin, forcing him to look up. “Would you do this for Us?”
Daniel focused on him, found his heart surging with need and with a physical effort looked away into the piercing green eyes of the Lady. Need to get away. “Yes,” was all he could manage.
Astarte’s delight was overwhelming and prolonged. Eventually she took Daniel’s hand and that strange transporter wrapped around their bodies, whisked them off and left them standing close together by a great bed.
Cut off from Ba'al he swayed, his clearing head warring with the desire of his body to race back to his captor’s side.
“Did you weep at our parting, fondest?” She moved around him, touching, caressing, and kissing his arms, shoulders and chest. “We grieved so deeply, yet knew you would return. You always return, my Eshmun.”
No… Daniel. I’m Daniel. Muzzily he looked down on the spray of red anemones caught in the twists of her raven dark hair. “I….”
She looked up, eager for his merest word.
“Can—can we walk? Outside? I’d like to see the sun.”
“Of course!” She snatched up his hand and pulled him to the door. “We shall bask in the day’s glory, my sweet.”
The doors flew open at her command and she led him into her temple, through the throng of priestesses and worshippers. Unlike before, the people of Tsydon halted their worship and bowed their heads, not only to their goddess but to Daniel as well. Anxiety tightened his chest as the ripple of respect flowed out to those in the temple grounds.
Don’t do that, he silently begged. I’m just a man, nothing more.
Out in the bright sun, Astarte flung herself in a giddy dance over the grass, twirling like a girl. “Feel how glorious the sun shines for you, my love. It is your presence that makes it beam so perfectly for us.” She skipped through flowerbeds, planted a quick kiss on his lips, then tugged him along across the gardens to the stone bridge. “See, my honeyman, the very earth rejoices at your return.”
Daniel followed her pointing hand. All along the river, on each bank and amongst the rocks in the water, trailing vines dangled heavily with clusters of red anemones, floating or stirring gently in the breeze; it was as if the river itself bled. Stunned, he looked at the woman pressed to his side, the same flowers in her hair sending their exotic perfume into his lungs.
Å
At his insistence, they spent the whole day outdoors, wandering fields or shady lanes, avoiding the temples but unable to shake the citadel and the danger to Daniel that lurked within it. At every turn he would catch a glimpse of it, sitting amid the sparkling sea like a siren on a rock.
Inevitably, the daylight waned, and with it built a dread of what the night would bring. Astarte was snuggled to his side as they sat under a canopy of lilacs, high on the cliff path. A soft susurration made him look around, and there was Ba'al, standing a few feet away, admiring the view as if he’d been there for hours. Daniel had thought the Nishta was weakening, but its effects returned in a jolting surge. He clutched at Astarte to stop the urge to fling himself at Ba'al’s feet.
“Darkness comes, Our love.”
Astarte sighed, pressed a kiss over Daniel’s heart and rose. “I bid my dearest fair eve. May the dawn’s new light speed you to my side, Mahhib.” She exchanged a passionate kiss with Ba'al and wandered off up the pathway.
Still staring out to sea, Ba'al addressed him. “Come, Adon. We must return home. Food and rest awaits Us.”
“And then what?”
“Then? Then We sleep. Our reward for a busy day.”
“I won’t let you put me in the sarcophagus again.”
“We have given Our word, Adon. We see no need to repeat Ourselves.”
“Daniel.”
“Adon.”
“I’m Daniel, dammit. Not some pretend god.”
Ba'al finally glanced at him, amusement fading into a hard stare. “And yet, you do not correct Our Lady. No. Come then, Daniel. We need Our bed, even if you do not.”
He pushed to his feet, hating the way the drug in his blood sent him to Ba'al’s side like a puppet. The transporter wrapped around them and deposited them in his suite. Food was laid out on a side table, warm sea air stirred the curtains, and in the distance thunder rumbled closer. Daniel stared at Ba'al’s solemn face, not even pulling away when the Goa'uld pressed their lips together and dosed him once again with Nishta.
The second day back on Tsydon followed the pattern of the first. With one exception. When he finally dragged his eyes from the door Ba'al had left by, Daniel found a small metal object sitting on his dinner plate.
Plopping onto the couch, he stared at it, possibly for hours, unwilling to touch it and confirm to his sinking heart that which he had always suspected.
In the early hours of the morning his fingers brushed the controls.
He sat, the miniature image of his body flickering amid the ignored dinner, his words designed to bring some comfort to his friends ringing hollowly in his ears.
“… this is Daniel Jackson, signing off. Bye.”
The deception fuelled an anger in him that he’d been unable to muster for his own sake.
Slowly, the anger burned through the fog that was his conscious state.
He began to plan.
The third day followed the second. Astarte’s amorous attentions increased, forcing him to refuse her, gently but sternly. When Ba'al left him that night – both ignoring the elephant in the room – Daniel forced himself to eat, then sat and examined the holo-recorder. The markings were in Goa'uld. Too easy. A flick of the switch and his message to the SGC was erased. Palming it, he went to the bath room, bathed, then under the hum of the dryers quietly recorded a new message.
Back in his room he pulled on a pair of pants and a loose shirt, tucked the recorder in the waistband and padded barefoot to the door.
Outside, his very own Rephaim guard stood to attention, surprised to see him in the depths of the night.
“I can’t sleep.” He smiled that deprecating smile that always made General Hammond cave and give him what he asked for. “I’d like to go for a walk.”
“Of course, Adon.” The one in charge was a tall, good-looking youngster. “May I suggest—”
“I’d just like to wander around, if that’s okay? Let my thoughts settle.” He headed off without waiting for a reply.
Like good little soldiers, they followed. His route was meandering, up and down empty echoing corridors, pausing sometimes to look at ponds or tapestries, retracing his steps here and there. Eventually he returned to his suite, nodded goodnight to the Rephaim, stripped off and curled up in bed.
Face pressed into the pillows, those he was sure were watching failed to see the fleeting smile as he recalled exactly how many people worked in the communications centre on the night shift.
The next night he faked restlessness and once again took his guard for a walk. He selected a different route, but covered most of the corridors travelled the previous night. Staff working in several offices acknowledged him as he wandered past.
Daniel gave thanks that working for a System Lord mean nothing was hidden, and doors were always open.
During the day, Astarte was becoming more possessive and he found himself giving in to her, bit by bit, spending more time closeted in her bedroom, lying by secluded shrines, her body would around his, teasingly refusing kiss after kiss.
The fourth night of his nocturnal wanderings Ba'al had questioned his restlessness, offering a sedative. Daniel let the Nishta guide his reassurances and Ba'al had left, happy that his guest was content.
Anger churned into hate. Three hours later, Daniel began his walk, the precious recorder pressed between his waistband and his skin.
It took an hour before his meandering brought him to the hallway where the comm centre lay. Keeping his pace slow and steady, he passed one, two, three doors. A slight angle in his direction, and he ambled through the fourth door, hands behind his back as if nothing were happening.
There were five people working at the consoles, several tele-balls active. Only one woman noticed him enter and she was engaged in a conversation through one of the balls. Expression bland, Daniel quickly found an empty, active console, slipped the recorder out, activated and inserted it in the right slot before he caught the sound of his guard approaching. Coordinates – carefully rehearsed from those memorised as part of his duty as a frontline unit member – came automatically to his fingertips. Entered,
“Adon?”
- hit Scramble,
“Adon….”
- hit Transmit,
“Can I assist, Adon?”
“You should not be here, Adon.”
- transmission complete. Eject recorder, drop it on the floor and smash it with a chair leg.
“Oh, sorry.” He smiled brilliantly at Ithm, Fourth Prime in command of his guard. “Must have got turned around. He pushed through the Rephaim and sauntered off down the corridor, accompanied by voices rising from the room behind and the hurried footsteps of the soldiers catching up.
Too easy.
He slammed the door on the reproachful glares of his escort and sank into a deep cushioned armchair. His hands clenched, trying to hide the shaking that was spreading through his body. Done. Mission accomplished. The message would be speeding through space, hitting first one receiver, then another, all down the line of carefully placed, hidden and scrambled Tok’ra relays until arriving at its destination – the SGC’s Alpha Site. How long it would take in real time he wasn’t sure, but he had every faith that the system set up to aid stranded SG units would eventually deliver his message to Jack and General Hammond.
It was all over bar the shouting.
He didn’t have to wait long.
… devouring all in haste,
Till either gorge be stuff’d or prey be gone;
The door snicked closed behind Ba'al. Daniel didn’t move, didn’t rise, even though the Nishta demanded he did.
“We are disappointed, Daniel.”
Booted feet strode through the deep pile of the carpets, bringing Ba'al to stand directly behind his chair.
“We gave you such trust, such freedom, and you repay Us with deception.”
A laugh of disbelief gusted out his mouth before he could stop it. “You don’t know the meaning of trust. I trusted you to send that message. Since that was obviously beyond your capabilities, I did it myself.”
Ba'al struck with lighting speed, wrapped his hand around Daniel’s throat and hauled him up and back. Feet scrabbling for purchase, Daniel ineffectually clawed at the hand, his nails leaving scrapes and cuts that didn’t faze Ba'al at all. The hand tightened, cutting off his air, pressing his head painfully against the Goa'uld’s belt buckle.
“We have done all in Our power to persuade you of Our motivations. Yet none of it has convinced you.”
Black spots were exploding in Daniel’s vision. He gasped and gagged, shoving against the seat to relieve the vice on his throat.
“You see Us as only a mindless automaton of evil. Perhaps then we shall act accordingly.”
Ba'al dug his fingers under Daniel’s jaw and hauled, pulling his body up and over the chair back and flung him down on the white rug. The hold on his throat gone, all Daniel could do was suck in desperate lungfuls of air, and cough and retch it back out.
“You have seen how the Goa'uld desire a beautiful face and body. No doubt you see Us as an animal, unable to control its base urges. So be it.” He dropped to his knees, leather clad legs either side of Daniel’s hips, pinning him in place.
Eyes widening in alarm, Daniel tried to fend him off as first his glasses were taken and flung away, then his shirt was ripped open. His abused throat failed to emit more than a gurgle of protest. He twisted to one side, kicking and punching wildly, but Ba'al merely tore his shirt up the back and yanked the shredded remains away. A hand in his hair jerked his head around so far that his shoulders followed and he was flat on his back again. Ba'al’s eyes were wild, hot flashes of white drowning the host’s brown. His hands gripped the waist of Daniel’s linen pants, the flimsy things no barrier to what he could see coming.
“Don’t. Please—” he croaked. He wasn’t about to apologise for what he’d done though. Ba'al—”
Ba'al snarled and the strength of the Goa'uld tore the pants in two. Moving to one side he pulled them off Daniel’s legs so violently the carpet burned his skin as he was dragged with them. Desperate, he flipped over and scrabbled away, but got only as far as the coffee table before Ba'al grabbed an ankle and turned him over again. The contents of the table clattered to the floor, and Daniel grasped the little pottery dish, given to him on his first day on Tsydon, and swung it into the side of Ba'al’s head. It shattered but had no effect, and Ba'al twisted his fingers to breaking point, making him drop the remains.
The Goa'uld placed his hands on Daniel’s hips, the grip bruising and holding him still. Both of them were panting, Ba'al half-crazed, Daniel distressed, searching for the right words to get him out of this.
“What say you, Adon? Shall we sample this delightful body of yours?” His fingers clenched, way too close to Daniel’s shrinking manhood.
“Please,” he whispered. “I’m sorry you’re angry, but please, don’t take it out on me like this. Yes, I deceived you, but… you deceived me.” Oh, that was not the right way to say that.
“Do not be sorry, Daniel. You have merely reminded Us that We are descendants of evil, and therefore We hold no blame if We revert to behaviour long held in contempt. We shall take what We want of you. Because We can.”
“No!” He kicked and wriggled and hit out with every piece of training and strength he had, but the force of the Goa'uld was overwhelming.
Eyes continually white now, Ba'al fended off his blows with ease. “We grow tired of this battle,” he growled. In one crushing grip he took hold of Daniel’s genitals and squeezed.
Daniel howled, back arching, hands falling limp as agony coursed through him. “You son of a bitch, parasite….” He could only curse hoarsely as Ba'al picked him up and flung him through the air. He cried out as he landed face down on the bed, bouncing to a shuddering halt. Stunned he tried to crawl away, but Ba'al was there, one hand pinning his neck, the other dragging his legs apart.
Breath sobbed through his tortured throat. Daniel tried gamely to pull himself together, prepare for the coming assault. You can survive this. Jack’s always said you can survive anything they do to you. Just… go away… be somewhere else… live to fight another day.
If Ba'al pressed any harder on his neck, he’d pass out. Good. He reached for the beckoning darkness, blotting out the Goa'uld’s touch on his naked skin, the clink of his belt, the hands on his ass. His face mashed into the silk covers, breath choking in gasps, he tried to turn his thoughts off and waited for it to end.
And waited… for it to start.
The hand on his neck shifted to his hair, painfully hauling his head out of the smothering quilts. Bent backwards like a bow, it was no easier to breathe. Daniel tried to get his hands under him. He jumped as Ba'al’s angry voice hissed in his ear.
“Such ease… such ease to take Our pleasure from this body. Ah, Daniel, you lead Us down the path of Our own destruction. We could do this and never regret the action. But We would be breaking a promise to one We hold dearer than Our life. We will not let you do that to Us.” He released Daniel’s hair with a shove that collapsed him back onto the bed.
Before he could look up, the silk cover engulfed him. Ba'al rolled him so tightly in the material he could hardly move, his hands were crushed into his ribs and his aching groin was trapped between his legs. Then the world tilted as Ba'al threw him over his shoulder. There was a jolt of displacement, then he was falling, met by a hard floor that bruised everything that wasn’t already bruised.
Ba'al’s feet thudded away from him.
Dazed and hurting, Daniel lay cocooned until exhaustion finally relieved his misery.
What follows more she murders with a kiss.
Sleep gave gentle ground to a fuddled half-waking. Sounds, an indeterminate echo of music, teased at his ears and drew his senses into working order. Daniel shifted, sighed. Memory of his last conscious experience returned in confused flashes.
Dream. Bad dream… Message. Got the message out… Ba'al….
Snatches of pain and panic darted past his closed eyes. Of its own volition his hand reached down and felt his penis and scrotum. Relief swept through him in a primal surge. Intact. And not hurting. Surprise brought his eyes open. He was no longer swaddled in the covering from his bed. He lay on Astarte’s bed, swaths of red anemones suspended from the high ceiling nodded over his head in the soft brush of warm air. His chest was bare but someone had at least wrapped his hips in a sarong.
Daniel swallowed, expecting pain from Ba'al’s choking grip, but there was none. In fact, he couldn’t feel any trace of Ba'al’s attack on his body. Oh, I hope that was just a healing device. Just the memory of violence remained and that drove him off the bed and across the room. The large doors were sealed and he turned away from them, frustrated and uncertain. Now what?
A table by the bed was set with food and drinks. He filled a goblet with cold water and downed it in one gulp.
“Mahhib!”
He jumped at Astarte’s exclamation, the goblet slipped from his hands and shattered on the floor.
“You wake! I sat by you for hours watching your dreams and now you have denied me the joy of your waking moments.” She came up behind him, wrapped her arms around his chest and pressed kisses into his shoulder blades.
“Don’t!” The memories of last night were too close. He jerked out of her grip and strode to the doors. A hard shove on them told him they were locked. “Can we go outside, Astarte? You said there were many more shrines to see.” He stayed facing the doors, tracing the pattern of the wood grain with his fingertips.
“Dearest Eshmun, we cannot.” She was close again; he could feel her warmth on his back.
“I’m not Eshmun,” he whispered.
Her breath ghosted over his skin, making him shiver. “No, my sweetling. But soon. My Lord promises soon you will return to me. To us.”
“I want to go outside.” As soon as he hit fresh air he would run and run, and they’d have to shoot him to stop him.
“My Lord forbids you to leave, my lettuce. Come, sit and share a kiss with me.”
“No!” He shook her off and sidled away, back pressed to the tapestry covering the wall.
A wrenching sob made him finally look at her. Tears welled in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. She was looking from side to side, as if lost. Her hands clutched at her hair, then pulled away, long dark strands ripped out by the roots in her distress. “Mahhib…,” she wailed. She flung herself at him, mouth wide and devouring him.
He fell back, head hitting the wall as she clutched at his face; her teeth scored his lips and cheeks, forcing him to close his eyes to protect them against her wild kisses.
Daniel finally grabbed her arms and shoved her away. “Get off me,” he gasped. “God, you’re both the same.”
Astarte stared at him, horrified and unable to focus on him. Her hands tore at the sheer fabric of her dress, and in seconds shredded red pieces were drifting to the floor, and bloody welts appeared on her skin. “My flesh is your flesh,” she mumbled, not even wincing at the wounds she made. “My blood is your blood.” She threw herself at him. “Made whole with a kiss.” Her mouth fastened over his, tongue pushing urgently inside him.
Bile rose in his gut. With a cry he shoved her away and sought shelter on the far side of the room. Astarte crumpled to the floor and lay motionless. Daniel braced himself by a chair, lungs heaving, battling to get himself under control. He fully expected her attendants to come running, but the minutes stretched by and no one came. Neither did Astarte move.
And at his look she flatly falleth down,
For looks kill love and love by looks reviveth;
If I’ve hurt her, he really will…. Crap.
He called her name, then shuffled slowly nearer. “Astarte.” Dropping to one knee he touched her shoulder. Nothing. He pushed her over onto her back and reared up in surprise. Here eyes were wide open, moving as she drank in the sight of him, but her mouth was closed and her chest didn’t move – she was conscious but not breathing.
“Are – are you alright?”
She stared. Blinked. Failed to breathe.
“You have to breathe.” Surely even Goa'uld needed air to live. Maybe she’d swallowed her tongue. He pried her mouth open and she smiled at him. Completely unnerved, he began to get up. “I’ll go get help….”
Her hand caught his and gently pulled it to her lips. She pressed a soft kiss to his palm, then gazed up at him again, her meaning quite clear: heal me with a kiss or let me die.
You are insane. Ba'al deserves everything you throw at him.
The thought of Ba'al in an unforgivable rage had him back on his knees. He scooped her up and gently laid her on the bed. Hesitant and trying not to show his revulsion, he pressed his lips to hers in the lightest of kisses.
Like an evil caricature of Sleeping Beauty, she wheezed back to life. “Lay by my side, dearest.” She sunk her nails into his wrist and pulled him down next to her.
Daniel complied, unwilling to risk another, more deadly scene.
“Irshyt, my desire. Without you I cease this existence.”
Literally, it seemed. She rolled onto her side, gently tracing the planes of his face. “Forgive me for frightening you. My passion is too great for my heart, sometimes. Stay!” She aborted his attempt to roll away. “Be at ease, dear Eshmun. Do you not remember your daylight home?”
“Actually, no. No, I don’t.” Seizing an opportunity to divert her, he settled on his side, face inches from hers. “I don’t remember. Can you tell me, Astarte? Tell me about my life before. What happened to me?”
“Oh, my honeyman. You were our greatest joy, my Lord and I.” She brought his hand to her mouth, punctuating her words with kisses to his fingers. “Never before had we created such life. My Lord gave me his code of life and I bore you in this body, watched you swell and emerge from me in the pleasure of birth-pain.”
Daniel stared at her. “You’re talking about a human child – you and Ba'al created a human child.” His flesh creeped at the thought. Harcesis. Two hosts creating a human with all their Goa'uld knowledge.
“Your beauty was unparalleled, dearest. From naked babe to manhood, all others paled in your shadow.” She laughed, caught up in the memory. “How we longed to take you to our bed, but my Lord insisted you must mature first. So we waited those long fifteen seasons. Then finally, on the day of your birth, I took you into my bower. Such sweet loving I never had known, and then my Lord Ba'al came to our loving. The passion we three shared! My fondling.” She peppered his hand with kisses, sucking in each finger with remembered ecstasy.
Daniel held still, struggling to keep his face clear of the reaction seething through him at the thought of a boy, bred by monsters for the purpose of their own pleasure. “I thought it was forbidden to give birth to a Harcesis?”
“Pfft, what use do we have for the superstitions of our kind? I loved my child, as did my Lord Ba'al, and our Eshmun lived for our love. We were so happy.”
“What happened to him?”
“You went away, love. You were only human and my Lord said a human could not withstand the power of our love.” She broke off, tears once again streaming down her cheeks. “The grief of your passing was unendurable. Even the touch of my Lord could not erase my yearning for you. My Lord said you did but sleep, and it was true! As new life returned to the land and the anemones bloomed, you rose from your sleep. Such joy!” She laughed and flung her arms around him, hugging him fiercely. “All the people of our city celebrated your return to me. The pleasures we shared that day – oh, you must remember, Irshyt!
“That season rang with our joy. We took our pleasure in every field and stream, garden and pond. Every hour the blessed sun shone we twined together and knew every intimacy. When the sun passed, so did you pass on to my Lord. The hours of the night gave him his pleasure with you. Touched by starlight he would lay you in the golden sand, on the altar of his temple, in the depths of his bed. Under my prideful gaze, my Lord shared your loving until it was time for the light to rise and send you back to me.”
Daniel stared at the curtains over the bed, thoughts churning. The harcesis must have fallen ill. Ba'al put him in the sarcophagus, then they….
“Our joy lasted until the leaves fell from the trees, and you returned to your sleep. You blessed our land with your gift, then slept until the new buds heralded your rise once more.”
A human child, bred into incestuous love, sickening and healed over and over again, made into one of the rising and dying gods of Earth’s mythology.
“How long—“ he coughed. “How long did he, I, live like that?”
“What is time to me, youngling? A year, a millennia, it is all the same when you are near.”
“But it didn’t last.”
“No.” Her voice darkened. “One day my Lord said you must sleep for a long time. He said I must put you away from my heart, but such a thing is impossible. I held you close to me, and sure as the red flowers bloomed from your blood, you have returned to me, my most beloved Eshmun.”
“Until the darkness takes me away.”
She leant over and smothered him with a kiss.
“Yes.”
O, thou didst kill me: kill me once again:
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Quotes from Venus and Adonis, by William Shakespeare
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