Tsydon

The Sun On The Horizon

Eleven

Mise en Abyme

lost, tangled, submerged 

Artwork: from a painting by Alma-Tadema.

Enticing aromas of baked fish and delicately cooked vegetables wafted around Daniel’s face. Distracted, he forked the food into his mouth, his body crying out for nourishment despite the turmoil of thoughts in his head.

Darkness – in the form of Ba'al and his handy-dandy personal transporter – had taken him from Astarte and deposited him in Ba'al’s private quarters. Obviously he wasn’t going to be left alone any time soon. He glanced again at Ba'al, far on the other side of the suite, conversing with Kosharta. Ba'al had barely spoken to him since releasing him from the transporter, attending instead to a steady stream of people: Rephaim, officials, servants and Companions, coming and going about their business.

His fork scraped the plate and he sat back, replete and tired. He kept replaying Astarte’s story, conjuring images of that long dead human and the life he must have lived here. It was surreal. He flicked another glance at Ba'al, saw Kosharta departing and Helel entering. The elegant consort bowed to his master then followed him toward Daniel.

Daniel met Ba'al’s scrutiny as he approached, his expression as neutral as possible, hoping the dull thud of his heart did not betray his feelings.

“We trust you enjoyed your dinner, Adon?” He accepted Daniel’s silent glare as approval. “Our dear Helel wishes to escort you to the Payasht this eve.”

“Bathing chamber?” If there was one thing to say about this Goa'uld, he was very clean. “Thanks, but I’ll pass.”

“The Payasht is more than a bathing chamber, Adon.” Helel smiled and stepped forward. “It is a place of meeting, where all who live in the citadel come to refresh themselves at the end of the working ten-day. I would be honoured to introduce you to the waters. They are most invigorating.”

“Everyone?” Even an hour away from Ba'al’s oppressive presence would be welcome. “All right. Thank you, Helel.”

Helel smiled and bowed again to Ba'al. Daniel rose and followed him to the door, not once looking at Ba'al.

The Rephaim were waiting, of course. They held their same polite manner, but never once let more than ten inches separate themselves from Daniel. Helel led them through the residential wing and down a hallway Daniel hadn’t seen before. An ornate doorway led into a large, warm room lined with benches, wicker baskets dotted at intervals along them.

Helel led him to a bench and quickly shed his clothes. “You may place your garment in the basket, Adon.”

The Rephaim guard were already stripping, male and female alike. Daniel bit back a comment and pulled his sarong free, dropping it into the basket.

Helel grinned and caught Daniel’s hand. “You will enjoy the Payasht, Adon. There is much gossip to be shared.”

He drew Daniel through a wide stone arch, along a short corridor and into the most astonishing room he had yet seen in the citadel. It was huge: vaulted ceiling easily two stories high, supported by slender columns. Sparkling water filled bathing pools of all shapes, connected to each other by tiled channels and fed by tinkling waterfalls. Laughter, shouts and the hum of at least a hundred people filled the air, accompanied by pleasant background music. Daniel spied several harpists and lute players wandering among the greenery, which lined many of the pools. At the far end of the room, arched windows gave on to a wide balcony, and beyond the evening sky, darkening with thunderheads over the sea.

Helel splashed into one of the tiled channels, pulling Daniel along, the Rephaim following a discrete distance away. They were greeted enthusiastically in each pool by humans and Goa'uld alike. Rank and stature seemed to hold no sway here. Consorts chatted with servants, Rephaim swam next to palace officials, everyone mixing and gossiping happily. Daniel looked, but couldn’t see Astarte. Good. A huge splash brought his attention back as Helel dove head-first into a deep pool close to the open windows.

“Adon. Come, join our water!” Mavet, one of Ba'al’s Concubines called up to him, sending a playful splash at Helel. A number of the Court were here, lying along the stone edging of the pool, their naked bodies glistening in the flickering light of the many lamps hung suspended by long brass chains from the ceiling.

Daniel moved down the wide steps and submerged himself in the warm, effervescent water. Scents of lavender and rosemary rose in the steam, and welcome relaxation seeped into his skin. He ducked his head, surfaced and paddled slowly along, acknowledging the welcome of the others but refusing to be drawn into their conversations. He found a little cul-de-sac, out of the hubbub and reach of playful splashes. A tiled bench ran two feet under the surface, and he sat, letting his head rest amid the lilies along the edge.

His eyelids drooped and he gave in to the warmth of the water, closing out the sight of people strolling, bathing and gossiping.

Å

A hand on his shoulder made him start badly, for one horrible moment he thought it was Ba'al, coming again to rape him. He hit out, floundered and realised he was in the water as he slid off the bench.

“Adon, forgive me!” Prize bobbed in the water in front of him. “I apologise for waking you.”

“Prize…. Oh. Sorry, did I hit you?” He scrubbed the water out of his eyes.

“No, Adon. I thought you might like a companion. You looked lonely here. But, I could go…?”

Daniel’s first impulse was to send the Goa'uld away, but he shook his head and indicated the bench. He looked out at the Payasht and realised there were even more people gathering. Servants were passing out goblets of wine and platters of food were set up on the sides of the pools. He frowned as several of the Companions refused offered food.

“Our Lord looks quite happy tonight.”

“He’s here?” Daniel straightened up.

“He arrived some time ago. See there?” Prize pointed to a cluster of Rephaim, Resheph and Ba'al at their centre, all laughing at some story told by one of the guards.

“Great.” His own guards reclined nearby, a silent reminder he couldn’t wander freely any more. He settled back, determined to enjoy the water while he could.

Presently, Ba'al left his guards and wandered from pool to pool, greeting, kissing and hugging his subjects while slowly and surely coming closer to Daniel’s little sanctuary. With the Goa'uld only one pool away, Daniel slid off the bench and breaststroked out into a connecting pond, making his way under the arches and out onto the balcony, which held a snaking river-like pool, ten feet wide and bending the length of the citadel.

Lightning jagged through the sky for brief seconds, illuminating the boats in the harbour below, before the night once again swallowed the scene. Daniel selected a spot on one of the bends and hoped the darkness would shield him from Ba'al.

No such luck. Ten minutes later the Goa'uld himself, in all his nude glory, cruised into view, guided by the ever helpful Prize.

“Aha! Here he hides, Our handsome Adon. Is this not the most splendid way to spend an evening?” Ba'al grinned at Daniel’s glare. “Our thanks, dear Prize.” He sank onto the seat next to Daniel and pulled Prize close. “Let Us reward Our Concubine….” He bent Prize to him and kissed him soundly, keeping eye contact with Daniel the whole time.

When he finally pulled away, Ba'al ran his hands over Prize, blatantly groping his body under the water. “We do believe the time has come to award this one with his true name. What shall We call him, Adon?”

“Oh, my Lord honours me greatly,” cried Prize. He writhed under Ba'al’s touch, accepting another passionate kiss.

“It’s not for me to give or take anybody’s name.” Nor should it be your choice. Daniel looked away, bitterness welling up in him.

“Hmm. We shall give the matter serious consideration.” Ba'al released the younger Goa'uld. “Leave Us now. We have matters We must discuss with the Adon.”

Prize slipped away, flushed and beaming with joy. Silence settled over the two of them, heightened by the noise coming from the bathing chamber. No one else was in the balcony pools. Daniel turned around, surreptitiously sliding away from Ba'al. He folded his arms on the edge of the pool and gazed into the night.

“Are you giving up?” he asked. “You said you can’t get any more information out of my head. The sarcophagus is not an option. What else are you going to try?”

Ba'al chuckled softly. “You know Us well, Daniel. We never give up. Our plans are proceeding as they should.”

“You’ll never get the rest of the System Lords to follow you. All you’ll do is set the whole galaxy on fire. You’re as crazy as she is.”

Ba'al stood abruptly and leaned over him, arms braced either side of Daniel’s. “We will thank you to speak of Our Lady with respect.” He huffed a breath in Daniel’s ear, then resumed his seat. “You spoke with her about Our Eshmun.”

Thunder cracked overhead. The night air was filled with energy, on the brink of breaking loose.

“You bred a harcesis, something banned by your own kind. You turned him into a parody of yourselves, kept him alive for… I don’t know how long, strung out on the sarcophagus. It’s barbaric. Obscene.”

“Two thousand, seven hundred and eight years.” Ba'al leant his head back. “That is how long he lived. Born on the shores of Sidon, Our home on your planet; died and buried here, in his mountain temple. Shall We tell you the full story, Daniel? You leap to judgements so quickly. Your opinion may change.”

“Your version, you mean.” More lies, probably.

“Our Lady told the true story, as she knows it. However, there are always details behind the telling.

“Long ago, We were unhappy with the host body We had taken. We desired perfection and thought to create it Ourselves. We mated with Our Astarte, as you would mate with your woman, Daniel.”

“I don’t want to hear this.” Daniel slid off the seat but Ba'al grabbed his arm and forced him back. Pressed into the corner, Daniel stared at him, seething.

“We wish you to hear, Daniel.” Ba'al let his arm go but sat close, keeping him cornered. “The human child grew as Our Lady slept, and was born. Such blood…. You humans reproduce in the most difficult manner. The child was the sum of our glory – the most beautiful of all. Skin like honey, hair all curls the colour of the blackbird. Eyes like yours, a slice of the sky brought to earth. He grew strong and healthy. Astarte loved him more each day. When We deemed him of age, she brought him to Our bed.”

Daniel turned his head, revolted by the dreamy lust on the face before him.

“It may not be your custom, but for Us it is the most natural thing to taste that which We have created. The boundless delights of pure youth…. When he reached his sixteenth year We prepared to take his body for Ourselves.”

Ba'al was silent then, for long enough that Daniel’s curiosity had him looking at the Goa'uld.

“We left Our old host and entered the boy, gently as one of the Tok’ra would. We had barely begun to establish Our control when We experienced the most excruciating pain. You cannot imagine it, Daniel. We felt as if We were being dissolved by acid. We left the boy, blind in Our agony, and caused him much damage in Our terror. Imagine – poisoned by Our own creation. We returned to Our former host. He had expired but We had no choice. No other was present, save Our Lady. She placed Us in Our sarcophagus, and many hours later it revived both of us.”

Daniel blinked, processing the story. “So, that’s why breeding a Harcesis is banned. Not to stop you gaining access to the genetic knowledge of the Goa'uld, but because you won’t survive. It’s just pure self-preservation?” He pinched the top of his nose, amazed once again at the arrogance of the Goa'uld. “Why did Apophis think he’d survive it?”

Ba'al gave him a fleeting smile. “It is one of the unwritten laws of Our kind, the reasons lost so far back in time that now and then one of us tests the boundaries of those laws. And when faced with the results, we find ourselves unwilling to share our humiliation.”

“Okay…. What are the other unwritten laws?” Despite himself, Daniel’s curiosity was engaged.

“Never begin an action that you do not intend to see to completion.” Ba'al slid closer to him, their bare thighs brushing together. “We shall tell you the rest of the tale of Eshmun.”

Daniel tried to move away from Ba'al’s touch, but pinned in the corner of the pool, he couldn’t. Ba'al’s hand touched his chest and pressed him back against the smooth tiles. “Stay, Daniel.” A soft caress of his skin raised the hairs on the back of Daniel’s neck.

“When we arose, We found Our poor child dead in the arms of his mother. His beauty was ravaged, torn by Our own desire to live. Never had We felt such guilt, Daniel. Astarte’s grief was overwhelming. I can still see her, rocking his body in her arms, drenched in his blood. We knew We must revive him, atone for Our misjudgement, our—arrogance.

“However, too much time had elapsed for the sarcophagus to revive him under normal circumstances.” He darted a glance at Daniel. “Death is sometimes beyond its ability to heal. It was fortunate that We knew a great deal about the machine’s capabilities.”

“I thought the Goa'uld just used what they took from others. You never seem the type to take engineering to heart.” And that brought up a question Daniel had never considered before. Who did invent the sarcophagus?

“Do you remember nothing of what you have learned here in Tsydon? We are not like other Goa'uld. We seek knowledge, to understand and learn from not only Our land and Our people, but the tools We employ – this is a desire that drives Our life.

“We adjusted the settings of the sarcophagus in the hopes a less powerful healing delivered over a prolonged time would achieve Our desires. And it did, Daniel. After a ten-day the machine released its hold on Our child, and he rose, as fresh and beautiful and alive as ever he had been.”

Daniel winced at the thought of lying in the sarcophagus for days on end.

“Our joy returned, Daniel. We had atoned for Our error and Our Lady was ecstatic. We took Our child to Our hearts and returned to Our lives. Our punishment was not complete, however. Our bliss was short lived. Within a season, Our child began to fail. Before death could claim him again, We laid him down once more in his sarcophagus. This time We set it to tend him for the full winter season, and when warmth returned to the land, so did Our child rise to life. Our people celebrated his return with Us, and We named him Eshmun – Giver of Life.

“So began the pattern of our lives. For a third of the year, Eshmun slept. He rose in the spring and as summer faded he would sleep once more.”

Daniel shook his head, trying hard to process the story. “But he was human. Repeated use of the sarcophagus, even on low power, must have driven him mad.”

Ba'al nodded. “As you seem to have discovered yourself, madness can take a human, unless there is injury for the machine to heal. Thus, We were forced to take Eshmun’s lifeblood before delivering him to his rest.”

“You killed him,” Daniel said quietly.

“Not quite. We let his blood until only the thread of life remained. In fact, as the practice became commonplace, it grew into a ritual, and Our people saw the importance We placed on Eshmun’s rising, and joined Us in Our celebrations and Our grief. His gift – his blood and seed – were a blessing on Our land and it has ever prospered because of him.”

“That—that’s….” Monstrous was the only suitable world.

“Moving. Yes,” Ba'al blithely finished for him. “There was one unforseen result. Our Lady loved Eshmun so deeply, he became her sole focus in life. As the years progressed, she became obsessed, demanding he spend every second in her arms. It was unhealthy – for both of them. We were forced to demand Our share of his favours. We decreed Eshmun could spend only the sunlight hours with Astarte, and he must come to Us while darkness lay upon the sky.

“In time, even that was insufficient. She would follow him to Our chamber, sit in the dark watching as We sought pleasure in his body, even just as We slept. We began to fear for him. We could not leave him alone with her. Many times We took him on campaign, exposed him to danger in order to protect him from his mother’s love.

“It was not enough. Her grief at his dying grew each year. She was in misery all the long cold months. We began to fear for her.” Ba'al fell silent, staring out at the flickering lightning.

Daniel blinked, and tried to focus – not easy as the air was oppressive with heat and the threat of rain. “What happened? She said he died a final time.”

“We were careless. We saw the evidence on his body, how her love was harming him. She was so desperate in her need to keep him alive, yet she took so much from him. In the end We had to cease Our own pleasure with him, to ensure he had strength enough for her. And never did he complain. He lived to be with her. Serving her, and Ourselves, was all he ever wanted. He was a good boy.

“One night he did not come to Us. We went to Our Lady’s temple, but the priests said she had taken him on a picnic and not returned. We were desperate, sure ill had befallen them. We ran through the forests, searched all her favourite places. Finally We found them. They lay in a grove of trees, high up on the hill. You know the one.”

Daniel’s eyebrows rose. He had a creepy feeling it was the grove Astarte had taken him to many times, where a spring bubbled in a shrine to Eshmun. Where she had appeared and disappeared while he lay drowsing with the Companions. Foreboding filled him. “What did she do?”

“Her only crime was loving too deeply. She… she had torn him, in the craze of her desire. His manhood ripped from him.” Ba'al closed his eyes. “They lay in a lake of his blood, he already dead, she unable to comprehend why he would not wake.

“We realised then that it must end, for her sake. We carried Eshmun to the temple We had built for him, roused the priests and the people. We told them Eshmun had blessed us with his greatest gift and that blessing would serve us for all time. Their grief and joy was consuming, and We laid him to his final rest. Our Lady did not remember what had happened. She continued to wait for his return and We indulged her in that belief. It took many, many years, but she gradually returned to herself.” The bitterness in his voice gave way to sad acceptance, and Ba'al slumped back next to Daniel, drained by the memories.

No wonder she’s unhinged. “She thinks I’m him.”

“Yes. After We resurrected you from the travel sleep, Our priests began to spread stories of Eshmun’s return. Then your dramatic ‘appearance’ in the Bodashtart river fuelled more speculation, and Our Lady became convinced her love had returned. There was little We could say to dissuade her. Fear not, Daniel, you will not share Eshmun’s fate.”

Daniel glanced at him as thunder tore the sky apart, and rain began to pelt down.

That doesn’t make me feel any better.

Å

 Daniel paced from one tapestried wall to another, through sheer red curtains drifting like a butterfly’s kiss in the barely perceptible breeze. From one side of Astarte’s chamber to the other, circling the bed in the middle. He was bored. Frustrated. Uncertain. Mostly bored. And hungry.

Hours ago, Ba'al had woken him, nishta’ed him, wrapped him in his personal transporter and deposited him in Astarte’s chamber. Then he left, all without a word. Astarte was absent and hours later still hadn’t appeared. He could hear voices intoning and periodical snatches of music from the temple, so he could only assume she was there, doing whatever goddesses did.  The only thing set out for him was a pitcher of cider, and that was mostly gone now.

So he paced and stretched, brought his muscles tingling to life while he thought over the two stories of Eshmun’s life and demise, and wondered what Ba'al’s next step would be. Clearly the scanning was no longer an option, but he didn’t think for a minute Ba'al had given up his quest for what lay buried in his head.

Daniel paused, staring at the person reflected in Astarte’s enormous mirror. Is that me? He pushed his glasses up his nose; the reflection did the same. Guess so. His hair was shaggy, much longer than he’d had it for years. His skin glowed with a healthy tan from Tsydon’s sun, but it was stretched over ribs and hipbones and his cheekbones were sharper in a face that looked strained and weary. At least he’d scored some pants today: fine linen in blue that shaded down the legs to deep green.

He sank to the floor, comfortable on an inches-thick rug, and leant against the bed. He was beginning to understand what it was Ba'al sought. He didn’t know all the implications, but it could be good… or it could be spectacularly bad.

Å

The doors being flung open to admit a flood of hushed chatter brought Daniel out of his doze. He clambered to his feet, blearily focusing on Ba'al’s Companions, all gathered by the door. Beyond them, the temple was oddly quiet. Daniel walked to the door, taking in the Court members’ dress. Their fine pants, skirts, and scarves were all in the same shadings of sea green and blue.

“What’s going on?”

Many of them glanced at him and smiled but did not answer. He looked past them, surprised to see the temple empty of priests, eunuchs and worshippers.

“Helel?”

Helel wasn’t looking at him. His head bowed, he stepped back as first Astarte then Ba'al moved toward him. Ba'al’s expression was closed off, only his eyes betrayed a twinkle of anticipation. Astarte—she looked like she’d been doing the good drugs. She floated along, her body not at all concealed by the gossamer fabrics drifting around her limbs. Her hair sparkled with diamonds, sapphires and emeralds.

She halted in front of Daniel, silently savouring every inch of his body. She caught up his hand and kissed his knuckles, then came a step closer, dipped her head and breathed the barest of kisses on his naked chest, right over his heart.

Realisation flooded Daniel’s senses and it was far too late to pull away. Astarte smiled up at him; more pink-tinged misty breath seeped from her lips and soaked into his skin.

No, not this again. His blood surged in his veins, firing every nerve ending to exquisite awareness, scattering his thoughts and leaving only base, primal urges gnawing at every fibre of his being. He gasped and locked eyes with Ba'al. Now he knew. Now he understood. Goa'uld like Ba'al and Seth used their Nishta to control and dominate their subjects, but those like Astarte and Hathor – the queens – used it to gain total possession of a man.

She touched his face and he drowned in her gaze, lost, willing to do anything for her, even die, right here, right now. She blessed him again. He shuddered, unable to move yet desperate to wrap her in his arms, feel every part of her body against his. She took his hand, turned and followed Ba'al, Companions falling into line behind them.

Blind with desire, Daniel let himself be led into the dark.

Å

 They left the deserted temple by a small back door. Out into the warm night air, they walked down a gravel path through the press of ferns and flowered bushes. At a bend in the path, under the overhang of water-beaded rocks, several Companions moved ahead and took torches from a stand, lit them into flame and led the way. Down they went, the path gave over to bare rock, worn into steps by the passage of many feet. Plant life clung to cracks in the rocks and the air grew cool with contained moisture.

Time meant little in the shifting light of flame and shadow. The downward spiral halted and Daniel found himself stepping onto a narrow stone bridge, the crash of the Bodashtart river underneath. Astarte led him on, the press of other bodies close about them. Over the bridge, down narrow stone steps, paralleling the swollen torrent of the river, her hand in his, guide and comfort. His other hand brushed the wide balustrade, cool stone blocks covered in damp moss that caught in his fingernails. At their feet, painted figures and faces rose and receded with every step, colours picked out in blood red; haunted, lost faces stared up at him.

On she drew him into the dark, anonymous people pressed close, the roar of the river blended with a reverent murmuring chant from the Goa'uld around him.

Now they halted at the foot of a giant gate, its black curling metal standing open, giving access to the earth itself. Strong hands on his shoulders encouraged him on. Unnecessary – he would follow her until the fire in his blood burned him to cinders.

Again they descended, into a place of warmth, laden with aromas like the germination of life; it was the womb of the world.

Through a pair of towering golden gates, they arrived in a large cavern. Ornate crystal chandeliers hung alive with candlelight. Enormous stumps of ancient trees carved into seats and benches lurked in the shadows surrounding a dark, still pool of water. Ferns and moss grew over its rocky sides and spread up over a smooth boulder, which stood at the centre of the cavern.

The Companions spread out, setting torches into wall sconces, closing and chaining the golden gates, all the while chanting steadily. Tasks completed, they began to disrobe, then came to Ba'al and Astarte, and helped them out of their clothing. Daniel’s breath hitched. Unable to pull his eyes away from Astarte’s luscious body, his heart began to pound when hands touched him, slipping his pants down and taking his glasses. All he could do was stand before her, his desire obvious and humiliating, for unlike the Nishta of Ba'al, which left his head a confused muddle, the breath of Astarte took ownership of his body and left his mind in perfect order.

She smiled, a slow, predatory gloat, and kissed him hard on the mouth. Then hands took his arms, turned him away from her, and guided him up the smooth steps to the top of the boulder. Bright steel chains glinted on the dark rock. He tried to pull away, to refuse, but they pressed him to his knees and he knew he was lost. Manacles were fastened over his ankles, others just below his knees, pinning him to the rock. Hands pushed him down to sit on his heels, then pressed him further until his chest rested on his thighs, and his chin on a groove in the rock. His arms were extended out from his body and locked down, and then a final band of cold metal slipped over his neck and held his head as immobile as his body.

His custodians left him alone on the rock, able only to breathe shallowly and stare down at the people gathering in a circle around the pool. Nude bodies gleamed in the candlelight, eyes closed they knelt and settled, Ba'al and Astarte at the head of the pond. The chanting cut off. For long nervous moments he watched as each of them bowed, their foreheads touched the damp rock. Suddenly Ba'al retched, a near silent shudder wracked his body, then again and then something appeared in his mouth. It—wriggled. He heaved again and Daniel let out a choked moan of horror as the parasite – the snake inside the host – slid out onto the stone. It squealed and reared up, lashing its tail, beady red eyes stared first at Astarte, then up at Daniel.

Beside him Astarte began to retch and produced the real Astarte in a slick pool of mucus. With the two of them out, the Companions began to gag up their Goa'uld. In no time fourteen Goa'uld squirmed and hissed in the open air, their host bodies remained still, unresponsive, probably drugged.

This is one story the guys back home will never believe.

Daniel tried to avert his eyes, but bound as he was he couldn’t look away, and self-preservation kept his gaze glued to the reptiles. I thought she was going to mate with me, but this is way beyond what Hathor did.

His thoughts froze as Ba'al and Astarte reared up, neck frills flaring and turned to face him. With astonishing speed, small wings unfurled from their torsos and the two shot into the air, up and over his head. They landed on Daniel’s bare back, making him cry out and jerk futilely at his restraints. The Goa'uld hissed and spat, and writhed their cold scaly bodies over his skin.

“Get off, get off, for the love of all that is holy, get off me,” he snarled, scared witless, sure now that he was going to lose his body to one of them. Both? Was that possible?

The writhing was settling down into a sinuous rubbing, one was coiling around the small of his back, the other up over his shoulder blades, sibilant noises tickling his left ear. Its tail seemed to be caressing his skin, comforting him?

A hopeless snicker escaped him. “I might not be able to stop you, but I promise you this, I will make your life a never ending hell. I will fight you every second of every day and I will never rest. You will regret ever taking me, and my friends will hunt you down and kill you – even if they kill me too, and I’ll thank them for it” He heaved in a gasp of air, prepared for what was about to happen. “Do your worst. I know the host survives.” His hands clenched, nails cutting into his palms, fine tremors running through him.

The snake on his shoulder squirmed gently. It’ll be that one. He stared at the Goa'uld below him, sitting up, weaving their heads in the air as they stared back at him. Why is the other one there?

Waited….

Something sharp pierced his skin, not at his nape as expected but into his back, below his waist. Agony speared through his spine, up to his head and out along his nerves.

Daniel screamed.

Another pain stabbed at him, in the same place. He sobbed and swore, bitting his tongue as he ground his teeth against the fire building in his back. Is it in? Shit, I can’t feel it. Desperate to retain his self awareness for as long as he had left, he tried to think of his friends, knowing the next time he saw them they might be trying to kill him. He pictured Jack, looning around on the Nandi homeworld, Sam and Teal'c surrounded by pint-sized wonderful people.

His pained breaths puffed out of his mouth. Dimly, he realised the agony was fading. Oh god, is that it – taking control? He tried to focus, felt the one on his neck… and the other on his hip. What? It’s still outside me…. Yes, there it was, uncoiling, sliding up his back, its tail tickling his ribs. He felt it reach the one on his neck, tangling together and squeaking like a dog’s chew toy. The two Goa'uld slid to his shoulder, then slithered off and plopped onto the rock next to his face.

He tensed again, and hurt his eyes trying to focus on them. They stopped for a moment, staring back at him. One had a bulbous appendage on its torso, a shiny sac that looked like it contained fluid. They took flight, making him start yet again. They landed near the pool, already twining together.

Morbidly fascinated, he watched the bulbous sac be absorbed into the Goa'uld’s body. When it was gone the other Goa'uld extended its own appendage, obviously phallic with a wicked pronged head. It entered the first Goa'uld – had to be Astarte – through the sac’s opening. Joined, the two tied themselves together in knots and began to roll and thrash over the rock and into the water, churning it to foam in their frenzy.

This appeared to be a signal for the Companions to begin their own orgy. Daniel froze, expecting another attack, but the twelve snakes went at each other, hissing, biting, flaring frills, until they were one hopelessly tangled ball. Relieved, confused, revolted and nauseous from the pain in his back, Daniel watched helplessly as the snake ball rolled around the pool edge – a bizarre guard over the two mating with unabated fervour in the water.

Å

 The night dragged on, one agonising second at a time. His legs were long since numb, so were his arms. The puncture on his back throbbed in unending misery. He still felt sick, but as he hadn’t eaten in over thirty hours, fortunately there was nothing to come up. And there was an annoying itch on his left shoulder blade that just wouldn’t go away.

On the bright side, his wholly unnatural arousal had vanished, probably the instant Astarte had sunk her fangs or whatever into his spine.

Daniel checked to see what was happening below. Yep, still at it. He sighed and shut his eyes. Unfortunately, his brain wouldn’t shut off. He’d initially thought Astarte had wanted his DNA to create a new batch of symbiotes, but swiftly rejected the idea. Hathor had picked him because he was there at the time. Astarte had a whole planetful of men lining up to deliver their offering in her temple.

This whole night screamed ‘ritual’ to him. Only Ba'al and Astarte were mating – the others looked like they were playing… or wrestling. If Ba'al and Astarte mated in such elaborate circumstances, he’d bet it was for something of more significance than Jaffa. Teal'c had once told him the symbiotes bred for Jaffa were infertile, which made a lot of sense. Why create an army who could in turn breed and build their own armies.

They really are like queen bees…. Hathor flashed into his mind, cold eyes fixed on his, her mouth swallowing him, the vicious jaws of the true Hathor emerging from that mouth, stealing his seed and self respect in one swallow…. Forget her. Focus. Queens produce infertile drones for Jaffa. They take years to mature and either become a minor Goa'uld, serving a System Lord, or are killed and eaten. And the queens mate with one of the host species. Not her own kind.

Ba'al and Astarte were still writhing in the water, slower now but not showing signs of stopping.

She’s mating with him and she’s got my DNA as well. She had to have taken his cerebrospinal fluid in that sick parody of a lumbar puncture. So, mating with Ba'al and carrying human DNA produces what? A fertile Goa'uld?

Oh, boy.

I think you’re in really deep shit now, Danny boy.

Å

Mise en abyme. From the French, meaning ‘placing into the abyss’.

On to chapter twelve - Plans Afoot

Book Two, Tsydon