STARGATE SG-1 29 Hall of the Two Truths (24 page)

Martouf went ashen. “You are certain? This is what they said?”

Ne’ban nodded. “It is. I swear it.”

Martouf placed his hand firmly on Ne’ban’s shoulder. “Then I must act accordingly. You have my thanks,” he told the boy earnestly. “Now you must go back. And do not let them see you.”

Ne’ban threw Sam a terrified look and without another word took off running back the way he had come.

“You want to tell me what’s going on
now
?”

Martouf blinked at her, as if he’d forgotten she was there. “The others — NebtHet — believe I will no longer be able to persuade you to come with me to the Hall of the Two Truths.”

“Is that where the rest of my team is?”

There was a slight hesitation before he replied. “Yes. That is their destination as well.”

“Then I guess NebtHet is going to get what she wants. I told you, I’m not leaving here without my teammates. If that’s where they are, then that’s where I’m going.” It was obviously a trap, but it wasn’t like she had any other choice.

“You don’t understand, Samantha. There is more at stake here than just SG-1. I have made a terrible mistake, I see that now. Under no circumstances can you go to the Hall of the Two Truths. I must take you to the Stargate, as quickly as possible.”

“I’m not leaving without my —”

“No!” Martouf’s forcefulness made her jump. “I know you wish to rescue Colonel O’Neill, Dr. Jackson and Teal’c, but it is impossible. Even if they haven’t been taken as hosts, you cannot risk going anywhere near them. You do not understand,” he insisted, almost angrily.

“Then why don’t you explain it to me?” Sam shot back at him. “Just what the hell is going on, Martouf? Tell me everything, and this time I mean
everything
.”

He looked around, even up into the trees, as if he felt eyes on him.

“I will tell you,” he said, his voice low. “All of it. I promise. But we must keep walking. No place is safe now.”

This time they walked side by side. Sam could feel the tension radiating from him. It didn’t help.

“As I was saying before, the inhabitants here were banished by the Goa’uld millennia ago.”

“Why? Did the System Lords see them as a threat?”

“Yes. But not in the way you might imagine. The System Lords never appreciate anyone who challenges their authority, which is why they’ve waged war with each other for thousands of years. But it was not because of a power-play that the Goa’uld banished NebtHet and her people. It was because they were too evil, even for the System Lords to tolerate.”

The notion that the Goa’uld would find some among their ranks who so exceeded their own lack of moral code that they had to be rid of them was about as ironic as one could get. Chillingly, it was also quite believable.

“The System Lords rounded them up and banished them to this place — Duat. It was thought, at the time, that there was no Stargate here. NebtHet and her people were trapped. Without technology they were doomed, compelled to spend their final days alone and forgotten.”

“Obviously that didn’t happen.”

Martouf shook his head. “No. Ever the opportunists, the System Lords couldn’t even lay aside their feuds long enough to rid themselves of a common enemy. Even as the banished ones were deposited on this planet, the ha’tak that brought them here came under attack. It crashed only a few kilometers from where it had abandoned its prisoners.”

“So the banished Goa’uld ended up with a ship?”

“In a manner of speaking. It was not capable of space flight, and most of its systems were irreparably damaged. But it contained a sarcophagus. No longer were the banished ones doomed to live short, miserable lives.”

“Instant immortality.”

Martouf shrugged. “It helped them to survive and to continue to live and thrive, even in exile. In time they were forgotten, even by those who’d banished them here.”

“Then they found the Stargate,” Sam prompted.

Martouf nodded. “But by then, they had become dependent upon this planet’s core. A few tried to leave, but they always returned, near death, seeking revival in the sarcophagus. It was only then that they determined that their very existence depended on the planet on which they lived. They were still prisoners, after all.”

Granted, it was a fascinating story and one that Sam was sure would intrigue Daniel to no end. But it didn’t explain what was happening now. “So they remained trapped. And still are, which is why they need hosts. I get that. But what was that all about with Ne’ban?”

The look on Martouf’s face told Sam that the worst was yet to come. Jolinar had been right; the man could not conceal his feelings. Self-recrimination was written all over him.

“In your case,” he said, “it is not your body they want, Samantha. It is your mind. They know of your brilliance. They know of your work with naquadah. What they want is for you to create a device that will enable them to leave this planet and take their life-giving naquadah with them.”

“Good luck with that.” Sam didn’t bother to tone down the sarcasm. What the galaxy did not need was another race of Goa’uld even more ruthless than the ones already out there. No way in hell were they using her to get off this planet.

Martouf only looked that much more miserable. “You don’t understand. You will do it, willingly or not. If you do not help them of your own volition, they intend to implant a symbiote within you who will take your knowledge and create the device itself.”

Sam went cold. Memories of being pushed down into the smallest corner of her own mind while someone else lay siege to her body and her knowledge sucker-punched her. For just a moment she had difficulty breathing. She couldn’t go through that. Not again.

“They had promised me…” There was anguish in Martouf’s voice. “I… I thought we would have more time. But seeing you again, like this. I find I can no longer be complicit in their plans. You must leave Duat as soon as possible.”

“I’m not leaving without the others,” Sam told him, when she’d steadied herself. “We don’t leave our people behind. Help me rescue them first and then we’ll gladly get out of here.”

But Martouf was shaking his head. “You heard Ne’ban. They no longer trust that I will deliver you to them. They intend to intercept us before we even reach your friends.”

“Then let’s get off this damn path and find another route. There has to be a different way to get to this Hall you keep talking about.” Sam glared at him. This was no time to be standing around wringing their hands when there was still time to act. “Unless, of course, you plan on changing your mind — again.”

Martouf looked chastised. “My only wish now is to protect you, Samantha. You must leave this planet. For your safety and the safety of the galaxy.”

Sam wanted to believe he was sincere, but at this point actions spoke louder than words. She’d wait and see exactly what sort of action he was willing to take.

“Then maybe we should get out of here,” she suggested. “Quickly.”

Martouf nodded. “Yes, yes. First we must make it to the
sebkhet
. When we are safely on the other side, I will take you to the Stargate.” He set off at a quickened pace down the same trail they had been taking.

“Martouf, wait.” She was jogging to keep up with him now. “I told you, I’m not going to the Stargate until —”

“Sam, you do not understand the terror that would be unleashed on the galaxy should these Goa’uld attain the ability to leave this planet. They will make the System Lords look benevolent by comparison.” There was a mixture of sympathy and resoluteness in his face. “As much as it pains me to say it, you must leave the rest of SG-1 behind. If you do not, then you risk everything. The fate of the galaxy — and of Earth — quite literally depends upon you.”

TEAL’C had been wrong. The wall had taken them well over two hours to reach. He was grateful for the extra time. It gave him the opportunity to think.

Bra’tac’s words had the ring of truth about them, and yet Teal’c still doubted them. In retrospect, his own experiences since he’d awakened in the tomb contradicted each other so much, he was no longer certain how to interpret them. He was meant to be dead, and yet he felt as alive as he ever had. His throbbing knuckles where Bra’tac had struck them were proof enough that this body was capable of the same wounds and aches as his real one. Likewise, his need to eat and drink, even to relieve himself, all were functions one associated with life, not death. He had fully expected such trivialities to be done away with in the afterlife, and yet it would seem that they were not.

And then there was his symbiote. It still lived within, healing his wounds and giving him strength. Surely in death he would be free from the need of it, and the symbiote itself no longer in need of him? Especially if, as Bra’tac claimed, this was the underworld of the Goa’uld. Should he not have been at their mercy from the moment he entered this place? Where was this punishment Bra’tac believed was due him?

Still. Who knew what may yet lie ahead? Of the three gates, Teal’c knew with certainty what was behind only two of them. The third gate — the one Bra’tac said would lead to the continuation of this same path — was the mystery. If this were indeed the afterlife of the Goa’uld, then perhaps it was there his punishment awaited. If, however, Bra’tac was wrong, or lying, then the path may simply lead him forward, possibly to the places he had believed in all his life, and he would be reunited with those he held most dear.

He would only know the truth when he got there.

Although there was another choice.

He could return to life with Rya’c and carry on the fight. Gods or not, the Goa’uld had to be stopped. If Bra’tac had lost his way — had lost that vision — then Teal’c could not allow him to contaminate his son with the same fear.

Rya’c had halted about a hundred meters in front of the wall and was waiting for them. He seemed uneasy as they approached. At first Teal’c wondered if the boy had seen his confrontation with Bra’tac, but Rya’c’s nervous glances were aimed at what, from a distance, Teal’c had taken for oddly stunted trees.

Only they were not trees. They were wooden staff weapons, practice weapons, each planted upright in the ground, evenly spaced as far as they could see to the left and to the right. Atop each staff was fixed a head, dried and shriveling in the sun. Time and the elements had rendered them featureless, except for the faint remains of tattoos upon their foreheads. Undoubtedly they belonged to the Jaffa they had just buried.

Perhaps Bra’tac was right after all. Perhaps this really was the realm of the Goa’uld. And perhaps it would not be long before his own head joined these as a warning to all who would dare to defy their god.

It did not matter. Goa’uld-hell or not, he would not surrender what he had fought so hard to earn. And he would not allow Rya’c to forfeit his freedom either.

“Let us keep walking, my son,” Teal’c said, placing his arm around the boy’s shoulder and ignoring Bra’tac who had come up from behind. Together they walked past the line of gruesome spikes and toward the wall.

The three gateways stood side by side, each identical to the other. Recessed into the wall and solidly framed in well-hewn stone, they were three times Teal’c’s height and at least half that in width. Into the lintel of every door, each in a separate block of stone, were carved symbols. Teal’c recognized them at once. They were the markings that comprised the Stargate address of Chulak, except they were not in the correct order. And there was a seventh, unfamiliar symbol as well.

The door itself appeared to be made of the same stone as its casement. Studying each one in turn Teal’c could detect no way of opening them. There was no handle, no touch-pad, no sign of any technology, simple or advanced. He was puzzled.

And wary. Bra’tac had intimated that opening the gates would be no simple task and Teal’c did not believe the old man had simply been referring to their perplexing opening mechanism. But although the alcoves were bathed in shadows, they were empty of any threat that he could see. No one challenged their approach. He examined each gate unaccosted.

If Bra’tac were to be believed, one gate contained the means by which to open the other two. Yet there was no indication as to which was which. Teal’c placed his hands on each door and touched the nearby pillar stones in the hope that some sign might reveal itself, but they kept their secrets well. As much as he despised doing so, he knew he could not proceed further without Bra’tac’s assistance.

Teal’c sensed the threat before he even turned around. Bra’tac had positioned himself in front of the center gate, a weapon in each hand. His eyes glittered with anticipation as he smiled, menacingly. Teal’c understood at once.

“I do not wish to fight you, old man.”

Bra’tac’s smile was menacing. “I am the Guardian of the Gate, Teal’c. It would seem you have no choice.”

“The Bra’tac I know would never attack an unarmed man.” Teal’c brought himself up to his full height. If he were to be cut down here and now he would do so with all the courage he could command. Bra’tac would have to kill him, face to face.

“Then defend yourself.” Bra’tac tossed one of the two staff weapons he held to Teal’c, who caught it in midair. It was not his. The balance and the weight were unfamiliar, but it would have to do.