Tsydon

The Sun On The Horizon

Eight

The Exalted Lord Yu Huang Shang Ti

a little travel, see the sights 

“The day has been long and tiring, I’m sure.” Ba'al spoke softly behind him. “Come, eat. Restore yourself.” He walked through an open archway into the room beyond, leaving Daniel with a rumbling stomach as mention of food woke his empty innards.

He followed the Goa'uld and found himself in Ba'al’s throne room. Dimly lit, the shadows hung darkly in the vast chamber. A single pool of light draped over the throne, and a small table laid with savoury-scented pots sat at its foot.

Daniel walked slowly toward the light.  “Tell me. Tell me truthfully, who are you working with? Are you really trying to bring peace to the Goa'uld worlds or are you just another tin-plated despot with delusions of godhood?”

Ba'al smiled slyly and plopped down on his throne, arms hanging loosely over the sides.  “The threat of Anubis is more grave than the Tok’ra or Tau’ri comprehend. His rule over the galaxy would bring destruction to all our people – genocide, I believe, is the appropriate Tau’ri word. Anubis once had great power, but that power brought about a greater downfall. Now he has returned, and Our intelligence informs Us that the power he now – or soon will – wield far surpasses that of the combined strength of the System Lords. We will be cast aside as leaves blown by the winter winds. Should that happen, my dear Daniel, there would be no one to stand in his way and protect Our young or the human populations of Our worlds. Your world will fall, Daniel. Would you see your people slaved, slaughtered, subjugated? However distasteful to you, the truth is the only thing that protects Earth at this moment is your treaty with the System Lords. Remove the System Lords, and how long do you think your weapons and armies will hold back the might of an attacking Hat’ak fleet?”

Daniel pursed his lips to hold back the answer Ba'al already knew. It was why he had stayed his hand at the Summit. Earth had no hope against a rogue Goa'uld who refused to acknowledge the treaty. “And rule under you would be so much better?” he sniped.

“You have seen for yourself how the people of Our city fare. Do they hunger? Do they suffer unjust punishments? Do they cower in fear at Our approach? No. We are not Apophis, Daniel. Nor are We Ra. You must set aside your notions that their ways are Our ways. We work for the survival of all souls, Daniel.

“I’m sorry, but what about the millions you killed on those two planets you destroyed. Don’t they count in your grand scheme of benevolence?”

“Your intellect does you great service, Daniel. We must admit to those atrocities, but in their execution We found the beginnings of Our determination to change not only Our ways but those of all System Lords. We were so focused on the defeat of Sokar, the lives of those living on his planets were of no consequence to Us, until after the deed when We saw with Our own eyes the enormity of the devastation wrought by Our hand. It was wrong, Daniel. We cannot bring the dead back to life, but We can prevent a recurrence of such loss in the future. We mean to atone for Our errors. Please believe Us.” 

Belief. It came back to that then. Believe a Goa'uld, his mortal enemy. The same as all the others he had dedicated the last five years of his life to fighting against.

“You said you were working with two others. Who are they? At least tell me their names. Show me some kind of faith on your part.”

Ba'al considered him carefully, head cocked to one side. “Very well. We can reveal the name of one of our allies. The other… We regret We are unable to give you their identity at this moment. But, the one, yes. It is someone known to you, Daniel. Regrettably their name may resurrect painful memories for you.”

Daniel’s heart caught between one beat and the next. For an eternal second he knew the name was Amonet. That somehow she had survived, that Sha’re had survived. That she was out there waiting for him. Why else was Ba'al searching his mind for her memories? He felt the blood drain from his face. His knees wobbled and he sat down hard on the cushions scattered on the floor by the table. Ba'al was staring at him, saying something he couldn’t hear over the pounding of his pulse in his ears. That little voice of reason that always poked its head up at inconvenient times was telling him it couldn’t be; he’d held her still body in his arms, seen Jack carry her back through the Stargate even as Teal'c carried him, buried her in the cold sands of home. But the spark he’d thought extinguished forever reignited in an illogical flicker of hope. His starving lungs pulled in a gasp of air and Ba'al’s voice penetrated the fog in his brain.

“Are you well, Daniel?”

He nodded, almost dreading the answer. “Tell me.”

Ba'al peered quizzically at him, then shrugged. “When Anubis’s plans were made known to the System Lords at the recent Summit, it appeared obvious to all those present that his plans would be implemented with minimal opposition. He was not, however, aware of the… connection, shall we say, between his emissary and Ourselves. We had sought out Our old ally, and found him agreeable to renewing Our association. He finds Anubis’s plans as repugnant as We do. And it was he, in fact, who suggested you as Our envoy to the Tau’ri.” Ba'al regarded him intently, watching the expressions Daniel could feel shifting across his face as his words sank in.

“Osiris.” Was it relief he felt at knowing Amonet truly was dead, or just numb acceptance that his wife was never going to be returned to him?

“We are aware that Osiris took one of your acquaintance as his new host,” Ba'al said softly.

“Jackson’s Curse,” he whispered, memory flashing vividly on the one time he’d asked someone at the SGC on a date. Sophie Patterson in the anthro department. She’d been flattered but sweetly declined. A few days later he’d overheard her quietly telling a friend how she’d regretted turning him down. The friend had sympathised that avoiding Jackson’s Curse had been a wise thing to do. “Sarah.” He avoided Ba'al’s eye as his memories shifted to the last time he’d seen her: elegant body dressed in gold, eyes flashing, knife at his throat. He shook his head, trying to clear it of the vivid images. Ba'al’s poking around in his head must have sharpened his recall considerably.

“You and Osiris. So she—he’s doublecrossing Anubis? Is Zippy the third one?” Somehow he doubted Carmen Miranda had power enough of his own to attract Ba'al to him. Ba'al’s lips twitched and confirmed that the identity of the third partner was still concealed. “You think just three of you can take on Anubis and win? And you plan to use whatever you dig out of my brain to help. Boy, are you in for a surprise.” He sighed and turned his attention to the food on the table. His head was spinning from hunger, blood-loss and exhaustion. His stomach turned at the thought of food, but survival instinct made him reach out and select a flatbread topped with tomatoes and nuts. He chewed slowly, his back to Ba'al. Silence settled over them. Daniel fixed his eyes on a few stray motes of dust drifting in the air, backlit by the light coming from the balcony. Surf pounded below in a dull roar, and behind that he caught the first rumble of thunder. He shivered, suddenly realising he was only wearing the long kilt Astarte’s women had provided. Astarte…. There was a whole new problem to face in the morning.

A light hand on his shoulder made him jump and come back from the fuzzy, drifting state he’d apparently slipped into. His hands were empty, the bread consumed mechanically.

“It is time to return to your quarters, Daniel,” said Ba'al.

Was that concern in his voice? Daniel dismissed the notion. His hands clenched and he remained sitting. “No.”

The hand patted his shoulder, then withdrew. “Yes.”

There was that same whisper of metal and the brief impression of something wrapping up around him, then he was back in his suite, sitting on the end of the bed. He barely had time to register that the balcony arches were now sealed before the familiar scent of flowers invaded his nose and he fell back, sound asleep.

He was running, through grey hallways, cold stone tunnels burrowed through the belly of the mountain. There was a visitor standing in the Gate room, dusty robes and a smile of recognition immediately swamping him in longing for desert heat and a simple life that had been cruelly ripped from him. “Danyel!” Peyah. Skarra’s friend, and his. Peyah knew all the best places to find the sweet fruit of the sunra plants. He looked so out of place amidst the concrete and guns. It could only be bad news. The dear smile of welcome turned solemn. “Kasuf and many of the people have been taken. The demons have returned….”

Daniel gasped and pushed himself up out of the memory. He was back in the basement room, dim lighting gleamed through the birds tangled over his head. No, not birds – he squinted and recognised the twisted metal hood, the one that took his memories.

“The patient is awake, my Lord,” a voice floated out of the darkness.

Someone nearby shifted. An arm reached out and caressed his chest. “Sleep, my dear. All is well. Just sleep….”

“No. Stop….” The scent of flowers caught his words and drowned them in honey. He was falling and flying at the same time. Despair caught him up and took him away.

…the storeroom was silent, faint sounds of Jaffa passing made him freeze, time and again. He never heard the one who opened the door. He did hear the gasp as alternate-Teal'c was discovered, so very dead. The man’s eyes met his. No hope for escape, he raised his hands, the mirror controller hidden in a bucket behind him. More warriors filled the room, rough grasps pulled him here and there, his clothing and body was searched, questions shouted in his face that he could not – would not – answer. His hands were bound, and he was shoved violently to his knees. The dead eyes of Teal'c stared accusingly at him. The blow to his cheek was pure spite – perfectly aimed to not even displace his glasses. Seven of them crowded around him, the door swung shut; the attempt to call out a warning to his team was halted by another blow and the zats and staffs hovering by his face. Footsteps approached…

How long had he been here? He felt he’d been buried in this dim room, bound for days - weeks even - to the machine that spun his life history out before his and other’s eyes. Some days he lay awake watching missions with his team or snatches of sweet personal moments that filled the times between discovery and heart-stopping terror.  Everything was blurring, twisting into some grotesque mess that he barely recognised. Teal'c’s face swam before him. He grabbed on to the strength his friend offered so readily, so generously. Silent resolve buoyed him and held him as he floated away from the restrained body on the reclinaire, and he drifted into his past.

… the peace of Teal'c’s quarters grounded him. In the dim candlelight he felt more solid, more real than he had since waking to find himself alone in the cavernous pyramid. He tried to reach out to his friend, but his hand passed through solid muscle. Nothing to do but sing, now. Row, row, row your boat…

Days were passing without notice. Life was a blurred mix of nights filled with dreams and days spent wandering the streets of Tsydon, trying his best to find a way out of the city or a person who would help him. Yet, always he ended up coming face-to-face with Astarte. At every unexpected turn she was there, waiting for him in whatever obscure alley, field or shop that he could find. Then she was unshakeable, clinging to him every moment, much to the delight of the city folk. Inevitably they would find their way back to her temple. Try as he might to distract her with questions about the people’s worship of her, the temples, the stories she had accumulated over thousands of years as goddess – always her words would be only of love, for Eshmun, for Ba'al, for Daniel, and as time moved inexorably on, her ability to distinguish between the three of them was deteriorating noticeably. He would fend off her amorous touches, beg for another tale, and search desperately for a back way out of the temple or a path that would lead up and over the hill toward the spaceport. Each day she clung just that little bit closer, longer and when Ba'al appeared, as he did as surely as the sun set, Daniel was beginning to experience a warped sense of relief. Even the certain promise of a nightlong interrogation was looking to be safer than spending too much time in the grip of a goddess on the brink of sanity.

Ba'al however, was becoming less hospitable. Daniel was beginning to suspect that the Goa'uld had expected to find what he was looking for with relative ease. Yet, night after night they went through the elaborate charade of concern and understanding, choked down over a dinner of ashes, followed by a nightcap of drug-filled air. They had passed on from the memories of Sha’re’s death, bringing truth to Ba'al’s claim of disinterest over the fate of Shifu or any lingering intelligence Daniel may hold from Amonet.

… the white room. He was back in the white room. He tried and tried but always he ended up back in the white room, surrounded by footsteps. Coming closer… just out of sight… coming… She smiled. Her fingers raked through his hair, tangling, pulling painfully, demanding answers he couldn’t remember giving. His skin was warm now, wrapped in something soft, not naked and cold. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from hers. Heard the first snip. Felt the first lock fall past his fingers to the floor…

Finally – somehow – the path of his memories resembled the timeline in which the events had occurred. Ba'al laughed himself into a coughing fit over the ignominious death of Seth, an event he had celebrated the following day with a lavish lunch attended by all the Court and Astarte. Even the priests from the temples had been invited. The good mood had lasted several days, but slowly impatience rose and Ba'al’s temper slid to dangerous levels. Several times in the early mornings as he escaped the citadel or late in the evening when he was dragged back, Daniel was witness to whispered conversations between the Goa'uld and his underlings, the results of which clearly displeased Ba'al.

There were comings and goings too: Jaffa and Goa'uld were escorted by the Rephaim to the wing of the citadel where Ba'al conducted his business. One evening, as another summer storm raged overhead, rain pounding the force shields across the open windows, Elsh interrupted their dinner. Bowing apologetically, he quietly delivered his news to Ba'al and managed to sidle out of reach when Ba'al’s reaction sent the heavy serving dish through the air.

“He will not wait?”

“Forgive, my Lord, he will not. He was insistent. The business must be concluded or he will take everything and, well, he insinuated that if you are not present, the name of Ba'al will become a mockery to all Goa'uld.”

Daniel admired the way Elsh got himself out of reach as Ba'al’s eyes flashed – something he couldn’t remember seeing once yet on Tsydon. Ba'al pulled himself together and smiled apologetically at Daniel. He stared thoughtfully at him for several minutes, then sighed.

“Very well. Inform His Exalted Lordship that We shall fulfil our obligations. We will arrive in three days.”

Elsh bowed so deeply his hair brushed the floor, and backed out of the room with aplomb.

“Going somewhere?” Daniel asked mildly, more than a little curious to see the Goa'uld so unsettled.

“Alas, the duties of a System Lord are unrelenting. We must see to Our obligations with Lord Yu and he will not be delayed. We had hoped that Our business with Our honoured guest would have been concluded by now, but as it is not….” The speculative frown on Ba'al’s face did nothing to make Daniel feel easy.

“Yu, huh? Well, have a nice trip. I’m sure I’ll still be here when you get back.” With Ba'al out of the way for a few days perhaps he’d have a better chance of getting the hell out of here. A niggling voice inside added that a respite from Ba'al’s machine could only be good. He wasn’t going to admit to himself just how concerned he was that the constant messing with his head was going to see him back in that white room – permanently.

“I’m sure,” echoed Ba'al. “We are certain that Our Lady Astarte will be overjoyed to take you into Her care for the days – and nights – that We are absent.”

He couldn’t help it. His face paled at the thought. The last few days, it was all he could do to fend off her blatant attempts to get him into her bed. If he had to stay in the temple day and night… Hathor’s face flashed in front of his eyes and his stomach roiled. He cursed Ba'al’s machine and its ability to dig out every single disgusting and hurtful memory he had, and he dreaded Ba'al’s reaction when – if – he got a ringside seat to the way Hathor had used him. His discomfort was obvious, and Ba'al smirked at him. Daniel scowled. “Give my regards to old Yu, won’t you? Oh, ask him how the stomach is now. Osiris got him pretty good with that knife.”

Ba'al tipped his head back and laughed, long and heartily. “Ah, yes. Osiris has told Us of your deception at the Summit. We are quite impressed that you nearly managed to make off with him and his host. We believe he has not shared that information with Lord Yu. However, just to be… safe, We think it will be best to conceal your identity from him.”

“Wha… what? You’re taking me to see Yu?” Daniel blanched, thoughts zipping through his head at speed. Even if Osiris had not told Yu about his servant’s real identity, he would still surely be recognised from the peace treaty talks on Earth a couple of years ago. Although, he had yelled out, ‘Sarah, it’s me – Daniel!’ in Yu’s presence. It wouldn’t take much to piece things together. “He’ll kill me.”

“We shall not permit that.” Ba'al’s smugness filled the entire dining room.

“But… look, just leave me here. I’ll be fine. You can do your business and then come back,” he offered lamely. And then you can resume rummaging in my head. Great.

Ba'al steepled his fingers together and gave it some thought, his eyes keenly tracking the emotions Daniel could feel flitting across his face. “No. We do not believe it to be in Our best interests to leave you here unchaperoned. Our Love has many virtues but self-denial is not one of them. We tremble with trepidation at the thought of you left here, unprotected.” He smiled beatifically, rose and headed for the door, bellowing for Elsh and Kosharta as he went.

Daniel watched him go, his spirits sinking rapidly. “Caught between the devil and the devil… and the devil. Super.”

 Å

Astarte was not happy. Daniel got that from the wailing, hair-pulling, flesh-rending full-out hissy fit she was pitching in Ba'al’s throne room. He hung back in the shadows wondering – if he made a break for the balcony – whether he could swim to shore without being ground up on the rocks around the citadel. It took quite some time for Ba'al to calm his queen and even then it was only when he leaned in and whispered at length in her ear. Daniel really didn’t like the way her eyes darted to him and unblinkingly pinned him. Nor did he like the slow, longing smile that spread across her face – kind of like a lioness that’s been promised a particularly juicy deer to play with.

Mollified, Astarte subsided into complacency, allowed Ba'al to fuss over her and kiss her farewell. She took her leave. Her attendants fell into line behind her, and she swept up the centre of the throne room, the moonlight that streaked in through the stained glass windows painting her in a kaleidoscope of colour. Daniel pressed back against a pillar bearing a statue above his head: probably Ba'al in one of his glorious conquest poses. He wondered if she possessed a dress that actually covered both breasts at the same time, but it didn’t seem likely.

Stop being such a guy. He chided himself in a voice that sounded eerily like Sam’s, and yanked his gaze off the Goa'uld’s bare, jiggling breast. Oh, jeez, here we go.

Astarte drifted to a halt a good three inches away from him. She ran her hand up his neck, cupped his cheek and pulled his face to hers. He stubbornly kept his mouth closed but that didn’t deter the open wet kisses she plastered over him.

“We bid farewell to Our love,” she murmured in his ear. “May your journey be safe from evil and your return to Our side as swift as the swallows on the morning breeze.” She sealed the sentiment with more kisses.

He pulled back with an effort and babbled, “Yep, greatthanksbye!”

She left him with a smile horribly reminiscent of the one Osiris had given him in Yu’s quarters on the space station. He shuddered, and as he watched her depart he began to seriously consider throwing himself on Yu’s mercy. Oh, boy.

 Å

The night before their departure, as servants scuttled to and fro all over the citadel on panicked errands, and Consorts and minor Goa'uld bustled past with a distracted air, Daniel was escorted back to his rooms by his guard. As had become the norm he paused before the open doorway, dreading the last step that would take him within range of the drug filled air. The last few nights his dreams and memories had become increasingly tangled, losing their meaning and serving to undermine his confidence in his own sanity. He scowled, annoyed with himself for letting his fear show. A quick glance at Tannin, in charge of his guard tonight, and he was surprised by the sympathetic expression on her face. Obviously they knew – to some degree – what went on during the night. He blushed, feeling humiliated at allowing himself to be used in this way. Tannin gave him an encouraging nod. Daniel lunged into the room, not wanting anyone’s sympathy anymore. Whatever the guard may feel about his situation, they would never be in a situation to – or possibly even care to – help him.

Lined up by the door were two polished wooden trunks, prettily embellished with marquetry. He opened the first and found a dazzlingly collection of clothing, none of which he’d previously worn. Looks like I’ll get to make an impression on old Yu. Letting the lid drop with a thud, he sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. For an age he stared blankly at the flames flickering behind coloured glass lanterns that hung over the darkened windows before he realised he wasn’t falling asleep. That’s odd. Daniel straightened and walked cautiously around the room, testing the air. Nothing. The air was clean, and the absence of the drug made him more nervous than its presence had.

He sat down. Then got up again. Wandered into the bathing room and back out. Went to change out of the sarong he’d worn all day, then retied it. Sat on the bed, then nearly leapt up off it again, as if his presence on its silky covers could trigger the drug. Nothing. He walked back to the bathing room, peed, washed, cleaned his teeth, and stared at his face for way too long in the mirror. Even more unsettled by the shadows under his eyes and the way his cheekbones seemed more prominent than usual, he turned away and began a restless prowl around his suite. He was tired; the more he paced the more he wanted to sink down into the bed and sleep, but his body wouldn’t let him – as if the act of sleep was a sign to Ba'al that he was giving in, just accepting whatever the Goa'uld wanted to do with him. His mind spun with half-remembered images of Hathor, Seth, missions mixed wrongly together and half-baked imaginings of what Yu would do to him if Ba'al chose to let slip his identity.

“Argh! Stop, just stop….” He was driving himself crazy. He stumbled to a halt by the force-shielded windows, more than a little dizzy from circling in one direction. “Just stop,” he whispered tiredly.

A knock at the door suspended his thoughts from falling down that black well of despair. “What? Who is it?”

He stared at the main doors and nearly jumped out of his skin when a hidden door opened in the wall. That’s where they take me each night. “Who are you?” he growled when two men walked meekly into the room and politely bowed to him.

“Adon. We are servants of our Lord. We bid you come with us,” one said. His voice was familiar – these were the two who carted his un- or semi-conscious body down to the interrogation room each night.

“Why?”

They shared a perplexed look. “Our Lord requires your presence, Adon,” the other replied in a tone reserved for the slow-witted.

“Why am I still awake?”

“That is not for us to say, Adon. We are charged to escort you, that is all we know.”

“And if I refuse to go?”

They both smiled somewhat patronisingly. “We will escort you to our Lord, Adon.”

Daniel glared at them, his nerves churning with uncertainty. Was this just a ploy of Ba'al’s to make Daniel complicit in his own torture or was something else afoot? The routine of druggings was gone and he felt adrift without it. He stubbornly stayed where he was until the two moved to his sides, gently but firmly took hold of his arms and led him into the hidden passageway.

It had always seemed like such a long distance, lying on his back, spaced out on the drugs, counting the lighting fixtures as they passed overhead. In reality it was only fifty feet to the transporter, then barely any distance to the door of The Room. He hung back against their grip but they got him into that dimly lit, wood-panelled room without too much loss of dignity. They let him go and he lost track of them then, his attention captured by the reclinaire, gleaming underneath the filigree hood. His stomach clenched and he backed away before he realised he was moving. A tall, warm body impeded his progress and he spun, knowing of course that it would be him.

“What’s going on?” he blurted, cursing his nerves. “Thought you had to have me drugged before you could steal my memories.”

Ba'al’s small smile told him he wasn’t fooled by the bravado. “Alas, Daniel, We have a problem.”

“Really? Can’t say I care, actually.”

“Ah, but you should care, Daniel. Our problem is your problem. Our scientists,” he gestured at a woman and man Daniel hadn’t even seen, standing behind a bank of control terminals. “Our scientists advise Us that there are significant signs of scarring along your neural pathways. This scarring is preventing the reclinaire from achieving an efficient scan of the memories we seek. Now, what can you tell Us about this scarring?”

Ba'al’s words faded into the background as Daniel fixed on that word – scarring. His brain, his brain, was scarred. Oh, god. Hardly a surprise really, the number of times he’d been zapped with one thing or the other. If it wasn’t Machello’s little buddies, it was Nem rooting through his brain. He kept backing away from Ba'al, shaking his head in denial, inwardly trying not to curl into a corner and start gibbering about footsteps all over again.

“Daniel!” Ba'al had him by the arms and shook him. He came back to the present with an only slightly hysterical giggle.

“Guess you’ve got damaged goods, Ba'al. I’d ask for a refund if I were you.”

“What do you mean?” Was it his imagination, or did Ba'al actually sound sympathetic?

Another little titter escaped him as he looked at Ba'al’s handsome face. “You think you’re the only one to mess with my head? Boy, where have you been? It’s an occupational hazard for galactic explorers, didn’t you know?”

“Tell Us, Daniel. Please.”

Daniel yanked his arm out of Ba'al’s grip and began to pace again, walking around the hated chair with carefully measured steps. “Let’s see… where to begin. Well, there was Nem, drilling through my head in search of his wife; Machello’s little buggers which sent me completely insane – wouldn’t recommend that, you know; the Gamekeeper who kept us remembering just the best years of our lives, over and over and over; Hathor telling us we’d been asleep for decades – then rooting through my memories like she was at the library. So did the Tok’ra for that matter. Oh, of course Osiris tried to fry my brain with that hand thingy – and that’s a joy that just never gets better no matter how many times you do it. I had my mind and entire body duplicated, my personality sucked into an old guy’s body, got tortured with the Blood of Sokar, and had a little man in my head for a while. He was kind of fun, really, specially the singing part. Got brainwashed and imprinted with a whole new personality, was addicted to a Goa'uld pleasure palace, and had an ascended being implant a possible future where I could have given one of your lot a run for their money in the Evil Overlord category. I don’t know… what do you think Ba'al? Any of that likely to make an impact on a guy’s brain? Of course let’s not forget the multiple hits with a zat, numerous other alien things that make you forget where you live at the end of the day. And I’ve been nishta’ed by some of the best. Take your pick.” He jerked to a halt two feet in front of Ba'al’s astonished face, spread his legs so his knees wouldn’t buckle, and wrapped his arms around his chest to hide the shaking in his hands.

“My. You have led a busy life, Daniel.”

Careful, Dannyboy. Get a hold of yourself. Shouldn’t have said all that. Don’t show weakness, Jack always says. Be tough, be dumb, but don’t be vulnerable or they’ll be on you like wolves.

Shuffling behind him brought his attention back to Ba'al. He held his place, mentally tracking Ba'al as he moved to the console and conversed with the technicians.

The shaking in his hands wasn’t subsiding, rather it was spreading to his knees and insides – fine tremors threatening to undo him completely. Maybe I’m already… nuts. Just didn’t realise.

Warm fingers touched his shoulder and he flinched away, spun around, hands arcing out in attack, a hair’s breadth from striking Ba'al’s eyes before steely hands wrapped around his wrists. Ba'al forced Daniel’s arms behind his back, pushed up until his wrists were between his shoulder blades.

“Let go of me,” Daniel snarled.

Ba'al still had a look of curiosity on his face. Silent, he studied Daniel for a few moments, then leant into him, their chests pressed together. Ba'al continued to press Daniel backwards.

“Get off me, dammit.” Daniel tried to struggle but being bent back without the use of his arms, it was impossible to gain any kind of leverage. Or breathe. He sucked in a gasp as Ba'al twisted and let him drop. Daniel fell – and then was pulled. The gravity field of the reclinaire grabbed him and he was plastered to it, hands scrabbling uselessly, leaving him to glare up at Ba'al. Two shadowy figures appeared on either side and had the restraints fastened before he could protest. The chair dipped and he floated up to meet the descending metal hood. It eased into position over his face.

Silence gathered thickly around him. Daniel’s breathing echoed off the hood and the sound only increased his fear. He wasn’t drugged this time and he knew Ba'al intended to scan him fully awake. This is going to hurt.  Like Nem….

“Ba'al.” Crap, beg if you have to. “Please. Not like this.” His gut constricted and his chest felt tight. “At least put me under.” The gravity field pressed him tight, not allowing even his hands to clench.

Silence.

Ba'al walked slowly around the reclinaire, appearing and disappearing in Daniel’s vision like a slow-motion strobe. He concentrated on his breathing, trying to control the fear that was starting to creep out of the shadows of his mind. Fear of Ba'al’s intentions, fear of what damage his brain had suffered over the past few years, fear of being unable to resist or fight back; they all joined forces and threatened to destroy what composure he still clung to.

“Show me the scans.” Ba'al halted behind Daniel. The big screen used previously to display Daniel’s memories flickered to life with a 3D image of a brain.

Hello.

The image zoomed in past organic bits he didn’t want to know the name of, to focus on hair-thin strands of… something. He bit back the questions that automatically rose.

“Here, my Lord. Here and along here.” The technician used a light pointer to indicate the barely visible build-up of pink layered over the strands. “The pattern of scarring indicates it occurred from multiple applications.”

Short and sweet. Sam could learn a thing or two from her. Daniel dragged his attention back. Multiple applications? What the hell?

“A weapon of some kind?” Ba'al asked quietly.

“No, my Lord. There is no indication of damage. Rather, this looks like a preventative or healing application.”

Healing? Multiple…. Oh, god, no. Shit, shit, shit. Daniel knew exactly what had caused this scarring. Just as he had always known it would come back one day and bite him in the ass.

“Would this be the result of one of your exploits, Daniel?”

“Nope. No idea, no clue, not a one….”

Despite his best efforts to stay calm, Daniel could feel his control weakening. He bit his tongue to halt any further babblings.

“Can We continue?” Ba'al asked the technician.

“No, my Lord. The patterns of scarring are quite intricate and are blocking any further coherent retrieval. They will have to be removed for us to return to our search.”

Removed? “No,” Daniel ground out. His muscles flexed and strained against the gravity chair’s grip.

Ba'al’s hand settled gently over his heart, patting his bare skin in a show of comfort. “Be at ease, Daniel. Our methods of healing are quite painless, We assure you.” He left his hand on Daniel’s chest, brushed over his skin as if petting a fractious animal.

A horrible, embarrassing gurgle escaped his lips as Daniel found his other fears completely swamped by the terror riding at the front of a wave of desperate craving. Can’t face that again, not alone, not here in front of him. Someone help me…. His senses swam. Ba'al’s voice receded down a tunnel of confusion, giving instructions for closer scans, and Daniel fell eagerly into darkness.

 Å

Next morning the citadel was in a carefully controlled uproar. Daniel had been dragged out of bed and into the bath before he’d really woken, and pulled under the dryers just as rapidly. He’d been on the verge of nodding off when a firm hand wrapped around his arm and led him back to the suite.

He peered at the blur in front of him, finally recognising Kosharta. She was staring at him expectantly. “What?” he mumbled.

“Dress! You must dress, boy. Now.”

“Oh. Uh….” Her blurry outline was making his eyes hurt. He fumbled on the side table, snagged his glasses and pushed them on. “Huh. You’re grumpy this morning.”

She gaped at him in exasperation. “You consider that as being dressed? Our Lord will not be amused. Here.” She started pulling clothes onto his limbs and he let her, too befuddled to wonder about anything. All too quickly, he was ready, dressed in rich purple pants and vest, the damask material moulded tight to his body. Boots in the same colour finished the ensemble off.

Kosharta handed Daniel a tumbler of sweet fruit juice, which he swallowed down gratefully. His head cleared, leaving room to remember the previous night’s events – and today’s agenda. The clothing trunks were gone. They were off to see Lord Yu. Swell.

The doors to his suite stood open, Kosharta impatiently glaring at him. He squared his shoulders and walked out. His guard immediately surrounded him and escorted him through the busy halls, down the sweeping staircase to the grand entrance hall. The entire Court milled around, chattering excitedly. When they saw Daniel they flocked to him.

“Adon! You are travelling with our Lord!” Arsay squealed, her eyes shining with envy.

“It is such an honour to accompany our Lord off-world,” said Nikkal.

“Hardly any of us have been off-world,” added Pidray.

“Apart from Prize and Mavet,” Yarikh said.

“Anath went with our Lord and Lady to the Radmanu fest, do you not remember?” Tallay chimed in. “They brought us such glorious gifts!”

“Oh, Adon, will you bring us gifts?” Pidray was bouncing with excitement.

“You must take note of everything and tell us when you return.” Helel hugged his younger Companion and smiled at Daniel.

“Yes – we have to know what Lord Yu’s courtiers are wearing!”

“And how they style their hair!”

“And what the Palace is like!”

“What they eat – and their music! You must tell us everything, Adon!”

A deep voice laughed, breaking through the chatter. The Court pulled back from Daniel, allowing Ba'al to stride into their midst, bestowing lavish farewell kisses on each Concubine and Courtesan. Daniel watched him murmur a little something with each kiss, leaving his lovers smiling shyly and glowing with joy from the private words.

Done, he stood before Daniel, the familiar smirk on his face. “We must depart, dear Daniel.” He took Daniel’s shoulder and steered him away towards a large round alcove halfway down the grand hall.

With Daniel in position at his side, Ba'al waved gaily at his family. Daniel followed suite with a brief wave and a barely heard “Bye”. The Court waved hands and scarves, and was lost to sight as a set of transport rings shot down and swept Daniel and his host away.

The rings deposited them amid the unmistakable walls of a Goa'uld Hat’ak ship. Lacking only the open-flame braziers of Apophis’s ships, this one seemed the same as all the others Daniel had found himself on over the years. Guards snapped to attention – not the legging-clad Rephaim of the citadel’s guard – these were clearly Jaffa, all wearing the traditional armour, and bearing staffs and zats. Ba'al’s sunny disposition disappeared with the receding rings. He ignored the saluting guards, snapped a quick order to one who stepped forward, and without a glance at Daniel, marched out of the room.

The Jaffa scowled at Daniel. “You will come. This way.” He spun on his heel and stomped out of the room.

Daniel blinked. The sudden absence of the respectful courtesy he’d been shown on Tsydon was disconcerting. He slowly trailed after the Jaffa, others falling in closely around him. They traversed corridor after corridor, and the shadowed gold hieroglyph-covered walls helped to shift Daniel’s whole mindset – away from bright, friendly Tsydon where deception lurked behind a friendly smile – to one that was much more familiar: the cold, alien environment of the Goa'uld, armour and weapons making it plain who the enemy was. Disturbingly, it was somehow comforting.

He was taken to a small room and left there alone. After frowning at the closed door he tried the bent snake symbol on the wall: locked. A few minutes poking along the walls revealed a small toilet and shower room. Beside the bed in the room there was nothing else.

He plopped down on the bed.

Stared at the door.

Stared at the floor.

Stared at the walls.

“I’ll just wait here, then, shall I?”

In response the universe juddered sideways and sent him sprawling on the bed. That was all too familiar – they'd entered hyperspace. Daniel rolled onto his back and glared at the ceiling.

“Okay.”

Å 

He slept, for a long time judging by the dryness in his mouth when he woke. Sometime during his sleep someone had entered and set up a small table with a tray of food and a pitcher of water on it. Daniel drained half the water in one go, then lifted the covered dish lid. A ‘stew’ of some kind steamed pleasantly inside. His stomach growled, so he tucked in. The hot meal and accompanying flat bread vanished in short order.

A visit to the facilities, then he was back in the room, contemplating his options. Paced the room. Ran through some exercises so his body was honed and ready for what was to come. Worried about what Ba'al planned for him. Worried about what might happen if Yu discovered his identity. Worried about how his team was coping without him – were they still looking for him or were they back on the mission roster, going off-world without him? Who was taking care of his fish? He suddenly remembered Merrie Stern, the woman who had found some of his father’s journals amongst her grandfather’s estate. He’d promised to collect the journals from her on the way home from New York.

“Damn.”

Something inside his chest gave a pang at the thought of reading his father’s words, discovering a part of his parents’ lives he’d not previously known.

“Don’t go there,” he muttered to himself.

The heavy gold walls seemed to lean in, enclosing him in a cocoon and shutting him away from the life he yearned to return to.

Daniel shut his eyes, crawled back under the covers and sought solace in sleep.

 Å

For two days, give or take, Daniel’s life narrowed to sleeping, eating, stretches and exercises, and fruitless and annoying speculation.

Then, on one awakening Elsh was there, standing by the bed with that odd look of distrustful respect on his face that he reserved for Daniel.

“Hello.”

Elsh nodded. “I am to assist you, Daniel. Our Lord’s fleet will arrive at His destination in an hour.”

“Fleet?” Daniel blinked the sleep out of his eyes.

“Of course. You do not think Lord Ba'al would enter the territory of another System Lord without the support of his fleet?” Elsh flung the bed covers back before Daniel could muster a reply. “Why did you sleep in your clothes? Never mind. You must wash while I lay out the clothing Lord Ba'al wishes you to wear.” He steered Daniel to the shower and set it running, leaving Daniel to slowly peel off his rumpled pants.

“Uh, speaking of his lordship, where is Ba'al? And why have I been locked up here in solitary like this?” He stepped under the warm rain of water and sighed with pleasure.

“It is not for the likes of me to question anything our Lord does,” Elsh called from the bedroom. His tone implied it wasn’t Daniel’s place to question Ba'al either.

“Right.” Daniel scrubbed scented gel into his hair and ducked under the water. He stayed there until it abruptly cut off and was replaced by warm air blowing him dry. He cracked open one eye and caught a glimpse of Elsh disappearing into the room beyond.

Finally dry, he returned to the bedroom. A garment of indeterminate description lay on the bed, so darkly purple it was closer to black. “What’s that?”

“It is what our Lord wishes you to wear,” Elsh replied. “But first I will fasten this.” He knelt in front of Daniel and swiftly wrapped a cold metal chain around his left calf. A familiar diamond tinkle filled the air.

“Uh, no, hang on a minute. I’m not wearing that.” Daniel cringed at the thought of chiming his way through Yu’s palace with Astarte’s present.

“Our Lord wishes you to, Daniel,” Elsh repeated. He stood, picked up the garment, helped Daniel into it, and fastened the low waistband, which sat just above his hips.

“Uh, that’s it?” Daniel frowned, looking down at himself. Arms bare, most of his chest bare in a sweeping low v-neck that gaped below his bellybutton, a graduated kilt that fell in layers to his feet and was split from mid-thigh to the floor.

“No, there is one more piece.” Elsh reached up and draped a head cloth over his hair, settling it in place with a band of shimmering drop diamonds over his brow. The diamonds hung down over his eyes in a glittering curtain. Elsh drew an end of the cloth over Daniel’s mouth and nose, and secured it to the other side, creating a veil over most of his face and neck.

Daniel felt his anxiety return full-force. “This is going to fool Yu? No, you know what? Just tell Ba'al I’ll wait here till he’s done.”

Elsh gave him a strange look and turned his back on Daniel. “Is the Adon dressed as you wish, my Lord?”

“What?” Daniel looked up from the shimmering material draped over his body, and started when a shadow detached from the corner by the door.

Ba'al prowled into the light and stood gazing at Daniel, running his gaze up and down the robed body. “Perfect. We have just a couple more adornments for Our guest.”

“How long have you been standing there?” Daniel scowled at Ba'al. “You might give a person some privacy, you know.”

Ba'al’s eyes twinkled with amusement, then sobered. He nodded to Elsh who produced two thin silver bands and proceeded to secure them around Daniel’s wrists.

“Ba'al, I don’t think me going to Yu’s palace is such a great idea. He’s gonna recognise me. I should stay here – not get in the way.”

“Nonsense. We can hardly present Ourselves at Yu’s Court with an incomplete retinue. He will mock Us. You would not want that now, would you, Daniel?”

“Mock? No. Well… no. I guess. I just….”

“Here. We gift Our Companion with Our symbol. Ba'al stepped close and attached two gold chains to either side of the material running down Daniel’s chest. Between them, hanging over his heart, lay a gold filigree working of Ba'al’s horned emblem.

Daniel felt a cold dread sweep over him. “Why?”

“This simple emblem symbolises Our ownership of you – an unbranded human.”

“Ah, excuse me? Ownership?” Daniel baulked at the word.

“All courtiers, servants, warriors, must have their allegiance marked plainly when in company of other System lords, otherwise the unmarked are free to be taken by whomever sees them. Did you not wonder why our Jaffa are thus branded?”

Daniel realised with a shock that he’d never explored the full meaning of the brands with Teal’c.  He looked at Elsh and saw he too wore Ba'al’s emblem – less intricate than his own but effective none the less. “Look… no. I’m sorry, but I’m not parading round Yu’s palace with your… brand on me.” His thoughts were tangling over his lack of observation and dread at the coming day’s events.

“I’m not going,” he said flatly, backing away from Ba'al as much as the small room would allow.

Ba'al sighed. He cocked his head to one side and studied Daniel for some time. He advanced slowly, stopping a mere inch away. They were the same height – Daniel and Ba'al’s host. Their eyes met in challenge and as Daniel’s body prepared for a fight, Ba'al smiled and sighed again. Only this time the warm breath that escaped his lips was tinged in pink and it smelled… god, no… it smelled like her.

“N—mmph…” Daniel jerked his head to one side, but with cobra-like speed Ba'al’s hands darted up and clamped onto his face, holding him still as the soul-stealing Nishta flooded into his body.

Daniel screwed his face up and tried not to breathe but of course that didn’t last long, and it made no difference. The drug seeped into his skin. He struggled, tried to force Ba'al’s hands away, to wriggle out of his grip, and run as far and fast as he could to hide in a dark corner. But Ba'al held him fast, leaning his body into Daniel, pressing him against the patterned wall so hard he could feel the symbols imprinting into his back. Another dose, then another….

His fingers felt fat and uncoordinated. He lost his grip on Ba'al’s sleeve and sagged back. Ba'al smirked at him – an expression Daniel now hated with a passion. He glared at the Goa'uld, sent every ounce of hate and fury that his hijacked body could not express. God. He hated this: the way his thoughts whirled but his body refused to respond to his commands; the way his skin tingled in anticipation of a word, a look, a touch from the one who held him in thrall; the way his body would move only at the command of his captor.

But he could fight this, had fought it to a degree. He’d kept Hathor at bay for some time… until she’d dosed him so thoroughly he could only lay pliant and responsive under her hands. He shuddered and blurted out, “Not supposed… immune now….” His forehead creased as he remembered Hathor’s taunts, standing on the mocked-up Gate ramp. “Immune,” he ground out in defiance of the obvious.

Ba'al’s eyebrows rose and he moved back a step. “Immune? To the breath of the Gods?” He laughed. “Why, Daniel, whoever told you that? Do you really think we would have developed the Breath of the Gods if a favoured plaything became immune after one exposure? You of all people should realise We are nothing if not opportunistic. We would never fail to take advantage of a substance that gives Us all such… pleasure.”

Daniel shook his head, the words jamming in his throat. There was something else but it was too much to sort through at the moment. Ba'al extended a hand, accepted something from Elsh and stepped close once more. Daniel could barely restrain himself from leaning into his touch, had to fight the drug’s impulses fiercely as Ba'al wrapped a hand around the back of his neck. He shuddered at the touch: yearning – that hateful, uncontrolled yearning was back, swamping his senses. He lost track of what Ba'al was doing until cold metal claws pressed against his neck. He tried to pull back but it was too late, the silencer was in place and he was mute once again.

Ba'al brushed off Daniel’s furious glare. “Come, Daniel, let us pay our… respects to Lord Yu.” He strode to the door. The Nishta in Daniel’s blood burned with such intensity that he could no more halt his stumbling steps in Ba'al’s wake than he could temper the anxiety that rose the instant Ba'al left him. He had to be close to him, by his side, or as near as possible to quell the yearning to bearable levels. Ba'al swept through the door, Daniel only two inches off his left shoulder.

Dimly, he registered the Jaffa waiting for them, but he instantly forgot them as Ba'al captured his complete attention. He stayed focused on the back of Ba'al’s head, sometimes speeding up a little to catch the profile of this man who possessed his body more thoroughly than Daniel himself. Every gesture, every change in expression on Ba'al’s face had Daniel captivated and left him longing for a word, a smile, a touch. And deep inside, the real Daniel raged impotently.

Ice cold against the soles of his feet helped pull him out of the fog a little. He blinked, wondering how they had come to be in a hangar, moving toward an Al’kesh. Daniel slowed, pulling back from Ba'al. He struggled to remember what was happening. Yu. They were going to see Yu. But why were his feet cold? He looked down, saw bare toes peeking out from the long kilt he wore.

Daniel? Shoes.

A voice sounded in his head – one he should recognise. A hand touched his arm and he looked up into Ba'al’s face. Pleasure flooded through him. He touched me. Contentment filled his soul and he followed his master. He sat where he was told, barely registering the many others around him as his master sat at his side. The God’s breath flooded into his heart and he sighed with happiness. He shifted in his seat so that he could see his master clearly. Somewhere off in the distance a voice was yelling at him but the master lifted his hand to his lips and kissed it, silencing that annoying voice for good.

 Å

Continued next page…

Tsydon Book Two 

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