Tsydon

The Sun On The Horizon

Six

Night Terrors

There is a reference in this chapter to someone Daniel has recently tangled with.

The encounter can be found here - Lost and Found 

The fourth day after Eshmun Night, Daniel was walking through Tsydon’s central marketplace with half of Ba'al’s Companions for company. He followed Arsay as she led the way through a winding back alley in search of a particular cloth seller. Nikkal, Helel and Marah were close behind him, gossiping with enthusiasm and clutching the group’s purchases in beautifully woven baskets. His ever-present guard trailed behind them, loaded down baskets of fresh bread, chocolate and cheeses.

Four stalls ahead, Arsay clapped her hands with pleasure and waved back at them. Marah laughed at her and offered Daniel a bag of tiny, fresh-baked fruit pies. He pulled out a spiced quince pie and bit into it. This was his fourth, so he really should stop, but they were just so morish he couldn’t help himself. Besides, he’d not eaten breakfast this morning – again. For some reason most mornings he found himself plagued with tiredness and nausea. It usually passed after an hour or so and then he was ravenous and brimming with energy. Maybe it was the climate here. The days were becoming hotter and humid, with thick thunderclouds billowing up in the western skies each afternoon, threatening rain but often passing in spectacular lightening shows.

At present, the skies were clear and achingly blue. It was nearly noon and the temperature had to be reaching the high nineties. Ba'al had woken him that morning with the news that the Tok’ra had received his message and it was on its way to Earth. He’s also been annoyingly smug while announcing his success in securing the participation of another System Lord in his Treaty scheme. Daniel took him at his word – he had no other proof to offer – and was relieved when Ba'al went off to attend to whatever it was Goa'uld attended to in their daily lives, leaving him to join the lesser Goa'uld on their shopping trip.

Arsay had declared she knew the perfect bolt of cloth to have made into a new outfit for Daniel, and so here he was, trailing after her down the seventh market alley. He was also getting quite a good idea of the city’s layout, its businesses and industries. He had already made note of a couple of likely people – traders who regularly visited the merchant warehouses at the spaceport – who might be open to some kind of bribe or barter to help him get near a ship. It was the beginning of a plan at least, and he felt better for having some hope of an escape if it should prove necessary.

“Here it is, Daniel!” Arsay smiled up at him and as usual he smiled back. So hard to remember there was a Goa'uld of who-knew how many thousand of years of age inside her. She just looked like a happy young woman with amazing eyes. She flourished a burnished-gold piece of cloth across the stall’s front table. It was beautifully fine cotton, embroidered with tiny carnelian beads in the patterns of birds and flowers.

He ran his hand over it, appreciating the silky softness of it. “It’s very lovely, Arsay. Is it made by the stall owners here?”

“Yes, they weave their cloth by hand in their workroom. The thread is brought in by traders from the north of the city. Much love is used in its creation, do you not think so, Adon?”

He looked up at her sharply. It was the first time one of Ba'al’s Companions had called him by the name that was swiftly becoming standard amongst the human population. He’d been graciously accepting the honorific from shopkeepers and tradespeople, but somehow it set his nerves on edge to have one of the Court call him by the name that had been reserved for the dead demi-god.

“Daniel’s fine, Arsay. And yes, it certainly shows the love that went into its making.” He grinned at the woman behind the stall who had been staring at her customers with undisguised awe.

“Oh. Oh, Adon, you bless our house and our entire future with your praise.” She gathered her nerve and reached out tentatively to take his hand. “Bless you, dear Adon, bless. May your strength be our strength, now and always.”

“Ah….” Daniel blinked and foundered. “Thank you. How much is….” He waved a hand at the cloth and caught the eye of Helel, keeper of the purse for this trip.

“Never! Never would I have it be known I took the Adon’s money! I would fling my children into the sea before committing such disgrace!” She whipped the cloth up and had it folded and neatly stowed into a calico bag before Daniel could muster an apology. She presented it to him with a flourish and leaned over the display table with a cheeky wink. “You’re such a nice looking boy, too.”

He beamed back at her, feeling a blush creep up his cheeks. “Well, my thanks again, er…?”

“Tiniall, Adon. Tiniall of the Shadac Weaver’s Lane. Be sure to tell your companions where you found such a fine cloth, won’t you, dear?”

“I certainly will, Tiniall,” he laughed. “Good day to you and yours.”

 Å

So it went for the next few hours. Meandering up and down the hills of Tsydon, through leafy lanes, past homes whose occupants worked in the fields behind them or toiled in cottage industries, chatting with the people, and always subtly trying to gauge whether there was any way he could convince someone to offer him passage off-world. There wasn’t. Everyone was happy in their lives, everyone was devoted to Ba'al, everyone seemed to consider him “the Adon” – the exact meaning of which he was still looking for. It was all getting a little overbearing and unrealistic. There had to be a catch, somewhere, somehow. Mass brainwashing, maybe? If Linea could do it…. Don’t go there.

The group had paused by one of the many little shrines dotted amongst the houses. It was tucked back into a grove of trees where mossy boulders and lush ferns surrounded the stone centrepiece. Water tinkling into the basin at the foot of the shrine drew Daniel forward.

Helel dug an enamelled cup from his basket and offered it to him. “The water comes directly from the holy spring, Daniel. It serves as both constant offering to the Gods and as a public water source.”

He took the cup, scooped up the water and drank with relish. It was icy cold and tasted of the earth. They sat in the shade, drinking the sparkling water and munching on yet another bag of goodies that had been pressed into their hands by earnest bakers.

Daniel lay back on the soft grass and watched the thunderheads building up yet again in the western sky. His eyes drifted shut, the murmuring of the others faded into the background hum of crickets and insects.

A minute – an hour? – later, he felt a shadow fall over him. He cracked open one eye and saw the silhouetted form of a woman standing over him. A shiver swept his skin. It was her. Ba'al had said she rarely left her temple, yet here she was far down the hill from her sanctuary.

“Astarte?” He opened his other eye and pushed himself up on his elbows.

“Is it you?”

Oh, here we go.

“Yes, it’s me.” He bit back the childish urge to ask ‘Is it you too?’

“We have searched, so long….”

“Uh, I, er. Did you find what you’re looking for?”

She didn’t answer, just stared at him with a kind of desperate yearning that had him clearing his throat and shifting uncomfortably.

“Well, ah, maybe someone can help you look?” He glanced behind her. The Companions were all holding their ground, not daring to approach their Queen. “What are you looking for?”

She merely stared at him, motionless. Finally, she brought one hand up, clutching something small. She bent and laid a white shape on his stomach with careful, precise movements.

Daniel looked down. It was a shell – another small murex shell; the Phoenician’s symbol of life after death. Feeling decidedly uneasy now, he looked up, words of refusal on his tongue, but there was no sign of Astarte.

Grabbing the shell he scrambled to his feet and looked around the little grotto. There were only the four Goa'uld, his honour guard and their piles of shopping. Astarte had vanished.

Rumbles of thunder accompanied their return to the citadel. The heat of the day hadn’t lessened any and Daniel was tired and more than a little out of sorts. Astarte’s disappearing act was apparently quite the norm according to the Companions, but he was feeling quite creeped out by her. He was looking forward to getting back to his suite and hopefully not having to contend with Ba'al and his machinations for dinner.

They crossed the causeway and passed underneath the massive gateway. Head down and walking half-asleep, Daniel was completely surprised when he smacked into what felt like a granite pillar. He bounced off and would have fallen on his ass if Nikkal had not grabbed him and steadied him. He looked at the obstacle, and looked up and up – into a sneering face he had hoped never to see again.

“Zippy!”

Jack’s pet name for the outrageously tall Goa'uld popped right on out of his mouth as he took two large steps back and unashamedly placed himself behind Helel.

“Whoa… what the hell are you doing here?”

“Daniel Jackson of the Tau’ri. Lord Ba'al informed Us of your presence here on Tsydon. We are delighted to see you once again.”

“Yeah, well, the feeling is entirely your own, Zip. Been doing a little business with Ba'al?”

“The affairs of the Goa'uld are of no concern to you, human.” Zipacna’s sneer deepened, making his appearance – full skirt and Carmen Miranda hat included – even more ludicrous.

Daniel blinked at him, expression as innocent as possible while making sure to stay out of the Goa'uld’s long reach. There was history between them after a certain encounter a few months previous and he just knew Zip was itching for revenge. “Been swimming, lately?”

The sneer grew into a snarl of rage and Zippy lunged for him. Daniel dodged away and chaos broke out. Helel and the other Companions reached not for him but for Zipacna, the gate guards leaped to intervene and the Rephaim manning the ramparts swarmed down to add their weight to the pile of bodies that eventually brought Zippy crashing down to the stone causeway.

“Well, this day just got better.” Daniel edged forward, a huge smile breaking out. It wasn’t every day he got to see a Goa'uld – at his most pompous and preening best – taken out by his own kind.

“Unhand me, We command you!” Zippy bellowed from under at least forty bodies.

Arsay had managed to stay at the top of the pile. She wriggled off and peered between the tangle of legs and sheathed swords to the approximate location of Zippy’s face. “My lord, Zipacna. You must not! Daniel Jackson is our Lord’s most honoured guest. His safety is paramount and honour forbids any raising a hand to him.” She looked at Daniel, a little grin trying to break away from her stern glare. “Perhaps, Daniel, you should proceed to the palace? It will be time for the evening meal soon.”

He gave her his best impish smile. “Sure.” Two steps forward, then he paused, the opportunity too good to miss. He bent down and was rewarded with a look at the prisoner’s face – beet red, spittle hanging off his lips, his fancy hat ground to mulch. “Bye, Zippy. Nice to see you again. Oh, wait. Actually, it wasn’t. Hope the rest of your day is just like this.”

Daniel straightened up, grabbed his shopping baskets and sauntered off up the pathway, a whistle on his lips and a spring in his step.

The door slid shut on Ba'al’s ingratiating smile and Daniel huffed a sigh of relief. He stood for a while, staring at the closed door, unable to decide what to do next. The fun of seeing Zippy brought low had faded as he sat through another intimate little dinner with his host. Ba'al’s endless assertions that his peace plan was coming together still rang false without any concrete evidence of what he was actually doing. He had emphatically denied that Zipacna was a part of his little cabal and yet he refused to divulge just who his fellow conspirators were.

Daniel was tired, head-numbingly tired. He shook himself and turned toward the bed, his very bones craving rest and his mind already shipping anchor and drifting toward that grey fuzzy place that seemed filled with the jumbled remains of half-forgotten dreams.

The bed stretched before him, seeming acres of downy pillows and satin sheets. His sleeveless vest fell to the floor, startling him out of a reverie. Hands poised on his unbuttoned pants, Daniel felt a chilly creep of dread settle into his skin. He frowned, looked around, but there was no-one present, nothing out of place. Just… the bed. He wanted to sleep, needed to sleep. But not here. This bed was wrong, somehow. He toed out of his sandals, backing away with one hand holding up the drooping pants and kept going until he bumped into the settee furthest away from the bed. He plopped down, still staring at the swathes of silk that seemed to beckon him over. A warm puff of air stirred the drapery and brought a faint scent of flowers as he settled back into the soft couch. He could sleep here just fine.

Daniel curled onto his side, plumped a cushion under his head, closed his eyes and let himself drift off.

Consciousness returned an unknown time later. Brain still three-quarters asleep, Daniel felt a presence nearby. He held still, struggling to open his eyes, to look up, anything – but he couldn’t move a muscle. His mind was sluggish, his body completely unresponsive. Panic clenched his heart for a moment, the extra spurt of adrenalin no help in waking up his nervous system. Soft whispers came from somewhere nearby, there was an answer – two intruders – and he could do nothing to protect himself.

Footsteps padded closer to him. A hand touched his shoulder, gently prodding him but he still couldn’t move or even open an eyelid. Another whispered conversation took place over his head, the two men agreeing he was satisfactorily asleep and that they should continue with their assignment, despite the irregularity of finding Daniel on the couch instead of the bed.

Strong hands gripped his bare shoulders, turning him onto his back and folding his arms across his chest. The second man took hold of his thighs and together they lifted him up and placed him on a cold metal surface. Straps were tightened firmly over his legs, hips and chest, causing Daniel’s heart to skip for a beat then pound even harder in panic. Still he couldn’t move, not so much as a fingertip.

Chatting quietly but casually one either side of the stretcher, the two manoeuvred Daniel out of his suite and into a hallway. It didn’t have the grand echoing feel of the main hall either, rather their voices bounced off walls that were very close by. He drew in a cautious breath, then another as he tried to slow his anxiety and focus his body and mind. Little by little his pulse returned to normal, the drumbeat of blood rushing in his ears slowed and allowed him to listen more clearly to his abductors.

They were talking about finding him asleep on the couch, an unexpected occurrence that they hoped would not reflect upon them.  “Every night he’s been tucked up in that huge bed, just like he’s supposed to be,” said the one to Daniel’s right. “Why’s he got to change his habits now, I’d like to know.”

“Well, it’s not our fault, is it? We’re just the delivery men.” The one to his left sniffed with annoyance. “Anyway, he’s completely under, isn’t he? The soporific worked just like it has every night. We’ll take him to the workroom and bring him back, same as usual. I guess we just put him back on the couch instead of the bed. That’s all. Situation normal.”

A cold dread crept around Daniel’s scalp. These people had been taking him from his bed every night? No wonder he slept so late and felt so tired each morning. And what were they taking him for? Ba'al and his smiling lies had covered the true purpose of his abduction and Daniel had fallen for it. Well, now he was no longer under any illusion that Ba'al’s intentions were honourable. The realization fed a surge of anger through his body, making his fingers and toes tingle. The drug was beginning to wear off. He tuned back in to what the two men were chatting about as he willed his limbs to move.

“… so after Eshmun Night she agreed to go to the Harvest bonfire with me. I think she really likes me.” The man on his left sounded well pleased with himself.

“Lucky you. She’s a fine looking woman, no mistake.” The man on his right couldn’t hide the envy in his tone.

“Well, what about you, Ugar? I saw you with a couple of comely lads on Esh’ Night. Any hope of a pairing with them?”

“They did make for a good night’s loving, for sure. I’ve not seen them again since, though.”

“Well, look them up. Sometimes you have to seek out the ones you want, they don’t always come to your door. Are they Guards or townsfolk?”

“Actually, they were both Fleet pilots,” came the reply with a swell of pride in his voice.

“Ah, spacers! Well worth making the effort to form a bond with them then. They’ll keep you active, my boy.”

The one on the right laughed. “Aye. Now, did you not see our charge on Esh’ Night, Ugar? There was many an eye cast his way, mine included!” He laughed again, deprecatingly this time, as if securing Daniel’s favour was an impossible dream.

Ugar mirrored the laugh. “I did indeed, Gapen. He was in the arms of our Lord and Lady early in the night, but I lost sight of him later. Talk in the taverns is that he resisted the advances of everyone – male, female, Lord, soldier or commoner alike. Can you imagine! What willpower he must possess to hold apart from all on such a night. He spent most of the night in the company of The Prize, and even he had a coupling before warding off invitations made to this one.”

Gapen clucked his tongue, and Daniel could almost picture him shaking his head. “He’s a lovely looking lad, to be sure. I… have you heard the townsfolk talk of him? Near everyone now calls him Adon. But I like his name – Daniel. It’s very exotic sounding, don’t you think?”

Daniel would have blinked his perplexity at the man if he weren’t still held immobile by the drug. These guys had dragged his drugged body out of his bedroom and were hauling him off who knew where, and one of them sounded like he wanted him?

“Adon…,” Ugar rolled the name off his tongue. “It’s a powerful name, no mistake. And you know, Gapen, no-one has been called Adon since The Blessed One. Makes you wonder, doesn’t it? The commoners usually have good instincts about people. Something new will come to pass, one way or the other.”

Well, that was cryptic. Daniel added that to the growing pile of confusion. He focused his attention on his fingers and was finally rewarded with a slight spasm in his left hand. Encouraged, he wiggled his fingers, miniscule twitches at first, as the two guards continued to gossip about who had slept with whom on Eshmun Night. A minute or two later they halted, Daniel stilled, concentrating on what was happening around him. There was the sound of footsteps, moving away then back to his side, then a metallic click, followed by the all-too familiar sound of a ring transporter whooshing up around him. A zing of sound and that slight disjointed feeling of transportation, then the two guards resumed their chat as they pushed the stretcher into motion once more.

This time they walked for only a short distance before halting, all talk ended as the sound of buttons being pushed filled what sounded like an echoing corridor. A door whooshed open and the stretcher moved again.

“Good eve, Tannin,” Gapen called out to someone. “Here’s our Lord’s guest, as expected.”

“Good eve, Gapen, Ugar. Place him on the reclinare and make sure he’s secured properly.” The voice was female, unemotional and businesslike.

“Do we not always do that?” Gapen muttered under his breath.

“He’s clothed, this time,” the woman remarked.

“That he is,” Ugar replied. “Would you believe he wasn’t in the bed? He was fast asleep on one of the couches. Must have succumbed before he could get himself into bed.”

“Indeed? I’ll make a note of it for our Lord. The procedure may be draining his strength too rapidly.”

Procedure? Daniel felt another jolt of panic as the straps over his body were loosened and then removed. Hands tucked under his shoulders and thighs and he was lifted away from the stretcher, one of the guards letting out an exaggerated grunt as they moved him down onto a cool surface.

“At least this assignment is giving us plenty of exercise,” Gapen chuckled. There was a clink of metal and Daniel felt an arm brush over his. Determined not to be tied down once again he put every ounce of will into moving his right arm – and it lurched up, clumsily knocking away the guard’s hands.

“Hey!” The guard’s shocked exclamation was accompanied by a shuffle of feet.

With a mighty effort, Daniel managed to get his eyes half-open. Flushed with the success of moving his arm, he turned his head to his right. Well, flopped it to the side was more accurate, but it gave him a blurred view of two men, dressed in the Rephaim’s House Guard uniform, standing and staring back at him in utter surprise.

“Don’t….” The word was slurred and soft, but it contained all the anger and alarm that had been building in him since his rude awakening.

The guards peered at him like two unblinking owls caught in the wrong hunting field. A woman in rose-coloured overalls joined them, all three continued to stare at him as if he’d grown horns. “Well,” she finally managed. “This is completely irregular.”

Daniel frowned, concentrating on his limbs, which were tingling madly with returning sensation. A mighty heave and a wriggle brought him rolling onto his side. He glared back at the three who were making no move toward him. “Don’t,” he croaked out once more.

The woman straightened up and pushed the two guards further back. “Do not touch him. We must inform our Lord immediately.” The guards looked none too pleased at that prospect but they stayed back.

Daniel felt his weight slowly shifting, dragging his body perilously close to the edge of the table or whatever it was that he’d been laid upon. His fingers clutched numbly for a hold but were mostly useless still. Gravity took hold and with inevitable, slow-motion gracelessness, he rolled right off the table and dropped some four feet to the padded floor beneath. He bounced slightly and rolled over onto his back. The two guards leapt back a few feet as if he were suddenly contagious.

With a grunt, Daniel rolled onto his side once more, vainly trying to get an arm under his chest and push his shoulders and leaden head up enough to keep the guards in view. Somewhere out of sight he could hear the woman speaking urgently. He planted his forearms on the floor and concentrated on pulling his knees up under his hips, shifting his centre of gravity so he could rise and get away from whatever kind of torture was planned for him. Although, just staying stable enough to kneel was proving to be way more difficult that he’d hoped. His thighs trembled with the strain of supporting his weight and his arms felt like jello – not enough of the drug had left his system yet. Panting deeply, Daniel nearly had his knees where he wanted them when his balance shifted, his hips tilted to the right and like a foundering ship, he rolled helplessly to the side, thudding back onto the rubbery floor surface, his muscles quivering and useless.

“What’d do t’me?” he slurred. His fingers clawed for a hold and he wriggled forward a little. Well, if he couldn’t walk out of here, he’d damn well crawl.

Inch by inch he dragged his numb and tingling body over the floor, the three servants of Ba'al watching his progress in silence. They made no move towards him and he was beginning to entertain some wild hope that he would get out of this room when the door – still ten feet away – slid open, revealing a pair of gleaming black boots. Hope shrivelled inside him and he slumped, burying his heavy head on his arms.

“Well! Daniel, once again We find Ourselves apologising for Our lack of hospitality.” The boots moved with measured pace into the room, halting just six inches away from where Daniel lay. “We most honestly regret your discomfort, my friend. We shall make all efforts to redress this situation.” Ba'al’s voice filled with steely menace and the two guards shuffled where they stood.

Daniel tried to speak again, his words tangling on his uncooperative tongue. “Wha’… what… doing to me?” He raised his head and squinted at Ba'al’s boots. With a mighty effort he pushed his body to roll over and lay looking up at the Goa'uld who was regarding him with that familiar, faintly amused expression.

Ba'al twitched an eyebrow at him then turned away, leaving him on the floor while he talked quietly with the woman.

“Why is he awake? Did we not give express orders that our guest would be unaware of Our nocturnal operations?”

“You did, my Lord. It appears that the Adon was not asleep in his bed, rather he was on a settee near the windows. I believe he may not have inhaled the full dose of the sleeping draft from that location.” The woman’s voice was respectful but quite matter-of-fact. “I shall ensure that it does not occur again, Lord.”

“May We take advantage of this situation? You did say the apparatus can be used upon a wakeful subject, yes?”

“That it can, my Lord. However, the conscious mind will repel the advances made by the scanner. I would recommend keeping the subject subdued under a sedative solution of at least fifty percent strength. If he resists too much we can easily return him to full unconsciousness.”

“No.” Daniel pushed on his arms uselessly, attempting to roll back onto his stomach and make for the door. I’m not a lab-rat to be played with at whim. His left arm smacked painfully on the stone floor at the edge of the rubber cushioning. He jerked one leg up to give him leverage and swung his right arm over his body, using the momentum to pull his shoulders and torso over so he now lay on his side. He panted for a few moments then tried to shift his tingling arms and turn completely - until a polished black boot gently nudged his chest and he plopped onto his back like a broken rag doll.

“Careful, my dear Daniel. We do not wish to see you harm yourself. You must relax and allow Us to see to your needs.” Ba'al looked down at him, his solicitous expression almost convincing. “Your wellbeing is Our prime concern.”

“Liar,” Daniel muttered. “Deceiver. Peace treaty, my ass. Why d’I even want to believe you?”

“What we told you was not a lie. We do need your help to restore the balance of power in this galaxy. Chaos and unrest have ruled for far too long. Innocents die every day, Daniel. It is waste, and We abhor waste. Your ability to contribute to Our plan is most unique and your name will be lauded by generations to come for bringing peace and prosperity to all the worlds ruled by the System Lords.”

Daniel allowed his eyes to close for a moment. The gall of this creature – to stand there blatantly spouting his lies. He wants something from me, something to use against the other Goa'uld. I have to stop him. He opened his eyes and stared at Ba'al with as much defiance and hate as he could muster. “Liar.”

A calculating smile spread across Ba'al’s face. “Everything we told you was the truth, Daniel… from a certain point of view.”

“A certain point of view?” The breath in his lungs escaped him in a disbelieving wheeze.

“As we speak, Anubis is gathering armies and fleets of ships. Your knowledge will save millions from slavery and desolation.”

“I don’t know anything.” He sucked in a deep breath, feeling the numbness recede with each minute. “Believe me, if I could do what you say, I would help. But I don’t… whatever it is you think I know, you’re wrong.” He tried again to rise but failed, flopping back onto the matting. “Please. Let me go.”

Ba'al gazed down at him for long moments, his expression flickering from interest to calculating coolness. He snapped his fingers and the two guards smartly stepped forward. “Return Our guest to the reclinare.”

“No.” He still lacked the strength to fight and the two men picked him up with ease, sliding him onto the table. It seemed to be made of some kind of dense, polished wood, its cool surface chilling the sweating skin of his back. There was a soft hum below him and two panels extended, one on either side. The guards each took an arm and secured him by wrist and elbow to the panels. Cold metal bindings were snugged tightly over his chest, hips, thighs and ankles. The guards stepped back and took up their post by the door.

Panic began to emerge again. Daniel rolled his head and watched Ba'al conferring with the woman. “Ba'al, please…. Don’t do this.”

Ba'al ignored him and finished his instructions to the woman technician. She walked toward him, an object he couldn’t identify in her hand. “Ba'al!” Daniel called once again. His gaze never left the woman as she calmly engaged the little device and pressed it against his outstretched arm. There was a sharp hiss and the scent of sweet flowers – the same scent he’d smelled in his rooms. Instantly he began to feel faint and disconnected. A wooden plate rose out of the table at his feet, followed by another two, rising up on either side of his head leaving him effectively blinkered and unable to turn.  He felt pinned and helpless as a butterfly on a lepidopterist’s board.

The woman reached for something out of Daniel’s line of sight. A weird shimmering effect swept over him and suddenly he felt as if he were both falling and flying at the same time. He bit back a cry of surprise, sucking in a startled gasp as the table bent underneath his body – his legs dropping down, the supports pulling his arms below the level of his torso. His back was arched and the whole table tilted twenty degrees, bringing his head up to meet a gleaming filigreed metal array that swung into place above him. The sense of falling didn’t abate and he felt the drug flowing through his system, gradually disengaging him from his limbs. He was panting, dragging in deep breaths.

A hand reached out of nowhere and gently rubbed his heaving chest. Daniel focused on the sensation and followed the arm up to a tall man, his face smiling and familiar… Ba'al.

“Be at ease, Daniel. The gravity-minimiser in this reclinare will ease the stress upon your body of Our memory retrieval procedure.”

“Please…,” Daniel trailed off, the words tangled and lost in his floating mind.

Ba'al turned away, nodding to someone. The twisted metal descended over Daniel’s head like a flock of tiny birds. Mesmerized he stared up at the patterns of light slanting through the gaps, and slowly he relaxed, gave in to the drug, lost contact with the cool wooden surface beneath him, and soared upward, free and flying.

Jack was there, smiling, relaxed, saying something Daniel couldn’t quite hear. The noise of the Nile in the background was drowning his words. Water splashed, children laughed as they swam, the wind flapped the sails of the felucca with a crack like a gun shot…

… he kept his finger on the trigger, clenched so hard his hand ached, his shoulder pounded by the recoil as the P-90 flared and spat round after round at the metal bugs. Still they came, crawling up the walls, around corners, upside down on the roof, feet clacking, mindless, relentless. His clip ran out.  He ducked around Sam as she took up the defence, ran down the corridor and skidded to a halt behind Jack who covered him while he reloaded. The noise was horrendous...

…Chaka roared, the sound taken up by his brethren, proclaiming their freedom, their determination to follow the path shown them by the one human who declared them sentient and worthy of life. The ground shook with the force of their cries. Daniel looked up, saw the death-gliders arrowing toward them, canons pounding the ground in advance. He looked for Chaka but he was gone, a geyser of dirt and tree branches his only memorial. He dived for cover…

… grabbed for the woman beside him - desperate to protect her for she was the epitome of grace and intelligence and all that was good in the universe. Skarra’s life depended on her. Lya turned her calm face toward him, her gentle smile filling him with peace. The sound of explosions faded, she leaned in to him, her body warm, breath sweet, she kissed him…

… and he ran his hands over her long, slim body, revisiting pleasures he’d thought buried in the regret of time. Her red-golden curls draped like a curtain over her face, tickling his eyes as she moved him beneath her. Urgently she joined with him and rode him unceasingly, pleasure turning to exquisite pain. She wasn’t the same, her face was twisting into cruelty. Desperate to bury the hurt inside him, he closed his eyes…

… to the face beside him. A pretty face. But the mass of blond curls belied the truth he was hiding from: the dark hair he yearned for was cold and still below the sands. This face was a lie too, youth and stolen remembrance sheltered the heart of the Destroyer. She cried out for his death…

… and he plunged into the warm water, sucked right through the field holding back the inevitability of drowning. He couldn’t breath, but it didn’t matter because they were all around, holding him, nurturing him, sharing their words, their song, their life, their plan…

… and spat him back to the harsh light of living. His teammates were there, strength and comfort always. Together they stepped forward onto a new world, and if hope was now gone, there was always still something new to find, something to fill his mind, his days. She was a memory, the boy safe but lost…

… the boy…

… a baby…

… “the son of my wife”…

… “but not your son”…

… “no”…

… No…

“No!”

Daniel flung himself awake, clinging grimly to the monk’s echoing words he tore his way free of memories and forced his eyes open. Above him, the filigree metal pulsed with light and power, and beyond it stood Ba'al, his attention directed elsewhere but his hand still methodically rubbing a soothing pattern on Daniel’s belly.

“The connection has been broken.” The woman’s voice echoed over to him.

“Replay the last sequence.” Ba'al’s hand stilled for a moment, fingernails slowly scratching over Daniel’s skin as it curled into a clench. “Re-engage.”

Daniel jolted loose once more, the cool surface of the reclinare vanished and he fell…

… into a maelstrom of staff-weapon fire, the deafening chatter of machine gun bullets, cries of the dead and dying. His Good-Father was there, free now, rescued, but she was still there. She had the boy…

… the boy he had delivered from his mother’s body with his own hands. Brought into life, but not given life. He had to find him, make sure he was safe…

… she passed the child over, a heavy, wriggling bundle now held tightly in the servant’s arms. “Go now, take him while the Chappa’ai is still open. Go to Kheb. You will be safe there. Hide in the mountains. We will come for you when it is safe. But… conceal yourself from any others who might be there. The stories may yet be true.”

The woman took the child. Stepped through the portal and was gone, the hopes of her Lord gone with her. She turned away, walked over the dune to her tent. Her Jaffa fought valiantly but would lose this battle. Her lip curled in disgust. The Tau’ri were fewer in numbers but their weapons were effective. Already the slaves were free and running for the Chappa’ai. The Shol’va was there, traitor in green. She would have him before this day was done. He was coming up the hill, bringing himself to her vengeance. The soldier at her side fell. Her attention shifted, and saw – him. Husband. Lying in the dirt, fumbling with his weapon. How attractive that one was. She would hurt him before breaking him. Then she would play with him for a long, long time. She turned away, swung her hips enticingly as she entered the tent. He would follow. They always followed….

“Sha’re!”

Daniel broke free from the images, eyes snapping open once again. He was gasping for breath, winded as if he’d been running. Ba'al withdrew his hand, crossing his arms over his chest as the metal hood retracted. He looked down at him, speculation creasing his face.

“Ah. So there is revealed the secret Amonet hid from everyone. Rumours abounded, as they do, but no-one knew for certain what it was that she concealed. Heru’ur is said to have lost a legion of Jaffa searching for this… Harcesis.” Ba'al tossed his head back and laughed. “Apophis always was so arrogant to think he could get away with -. And all along Amonet had hidden the child, where was it? Kheb. What perfect irony.”

“That’s it? That’s what you’re after? Sha’re’s child?” Daniel croaked in disbelief. Appalled and amused at the same time, a small laugh escaped him. “You’ll never find him.”

“Indeed?” Ba'al nodded to the woman and the hood descended again.

With Kheb fresh in his mind, Daniel fell…

… and was there, red walls, candles, brilliant starry skies. A flash of light in the corner of his eye…

… he passed through the wall. She smiled at him, all the wisdom of the universe in that smile. She saw the potential in him. He knew she would take him with her and the boy. He only had to ask. His courage failed...

… “Bye”…

Daniel pushed away from the memories, finding it easier this time to surface and drag himself back to awareness. The hood retreated once more. Ba'al stared down at him.

“We are impressed, Daniel.”

“You’ll never find the boy. Go looking for Kheb. Go see if you can find him. In fact, I dare you! All you’ll find on Kheb will be a lot of burned bodies and an empty monastery.”

Ba'al cocked his head to one side and seemed to be considering the dare. A smile twitched the corner of his mouth. “This was the information Apophis revealed to Sokar. No, Daniel, do not distress yourself on this matter. We have no desire to find the child. He and his protector hold no interest for Us. We will not seek her out.”

Confused, Daniel tried to clear his head of the drugs. “Then what? Why are you doing this? What are you looking for? I told you when you brought me here that the SGC’s codes would have been changed the moment I was taken. You’ll never get through the iris and even if you land on Earth, you can’t use anything I knew to gain access to the base.”

Ba'al nodded absently and turned to speak to the woman. “The sequence with Amonet. Is it another?”

“What? Another what?” Daniel ground out, pushing his body against the bindings. “Let me out of this thing.”

“It is, my Lord,” the woman spoke over him.

“Astounding.” Ba'al placed his hand on Daniel’s chest and pressed him back down. “Continue and enhance.”

Daniel’s world gave another gravity-induced lurch and he dropped back, his mind losing conscious control over the memories flooding around him.

…then, suddenly there she was. Sha’re. His beautiful, loving, tempestuous wife. The kohl around her eyes made her look too distant, too cold. He reached out to wipe it away. She stretched out her hand, gold, glowing… like her eyes….

“No! God, no. Get out, get away from her!” He pushed away the visions and managed to focus on Ba'al – who was intently watching something to the side, something flickering…. “You’re watching this? How… you son of a bitch. Leave her alone! You parasites have done enough harm to her. You stole her and now she’s dead.” His voice caught and he gasped with physical pain. “You’ve taken everything from me. I won’t… I won’t let you take her memory too.”

Powerless, held down and drugged, yet still filled with fury, Daniel took the only option open to him. He raised his head as high as he could then slammed it back down onto the solid wood bench. Blinding spears of pain shot through his skull, but he jerked forward and did it again and again. Hot bruising rose up around the impact area and a sharp pain blossomed behind his eyes, but he gritted his teeth and pulled forward for another blow. If he ended up a vegetable, so be it. At least the only thing he’d thought he could keep safe would die with him. He crashed his head back once more, but this time his bleeding skull met someone’s hand. Dimly aware of shouting going on over him, he moaned and tried to pull his head up but there was another hand on his forehead preventing even that small movement. Something soft was slipped under his head, then wide metal bands were wrapped over his forehead and chin, leaving him immobile, useless….

“Don’t take her… she’s all I have left…,” he whispered, unable to stop the tears leaking down his face and into his ears.

“Hush, my Daniel, hush. We steal nothing, be assured. Your gift will be treasured and respected, We promise.”

No. Anguish filled him, robbing his voice away. A sob escaped him as the hood descended for the final time. The scent of flowers floated up his nostrils and took him away, away from the cold table, the overwhelming helplessness and sense of failure. Away from Ba'al’s concerned face staring down at him, away from the thought that he would never again have the comfort of his memories of Sha’re to keep him sane, keep him alive.

Ba'al’s warm hand rested on his chest, over his heart.

Daniel gave up the fight.

He fell.

Å

On to chapter seven - The Rise of Eshmun 

Tsydon Book Two 

Comments, suggestions? Send feedback!