Title: Wolves
Author: Jewels
E-mail: fanfic (at) bjewelled.co.uk
Disclaimer: All publicly recognisable characters and places are the property of MGM, World Gekko Corp and Double Secret Productions. They're not mine, never have been mine, even though I wish they were.
Sequel/Series Info: Late third season. Sequel to Fugue.
Summary: Sequel to Fugue. Anything more would be telling.
Rating: PG-13
Spoilers: One line for Fair Game, Tok'ra and Bane.
Category: Drama, Angst
Notes: This has been in my thoughts since I completed "Fugue". There were things in that story that just weren't tied off, and I wanted to write something which did. This story actually pulls together story ideas for several different fics that I've been having for months now, so it's been a story I've wanted to write for a long time.

**

"The wolf lurks in the forest."
-Norwegian Rune-Poem (Stanza I, Line Two)

**

Daniel Jackson joined two special forces in creeping close to the wall at a sharp gesture from Colonel Jack O'Neill, who was taking point as they crept down the corridor. Keeping his weapon down, but at the ready, the four of them paused as O'Neill reached up to press a switch on his radio.

"Seal corridor A-3 west." he muttered, and the blast door, with the characters A-3 stencilled on it, slid down to the concrete floor.

They had been progressing in much this matter for nearly an hour, covering most of level 28 in a methodical pattern. The base had been sealed, blast doors closing off the mountain from the outside world, and sealing off the different levels from each other. Anyone who was on level 28 was staying on level 28. And that was precisely what they wanted.

The darkened corridors, lit only by the glow of the red emergency lighting, gave everything an eerie cast, and Daniel found himself growing tenser by the minute. He had been watching far too many late night horror B-movies, and was convinced that they were about five minutes away from the huge oil-slick monster starting to pick them off one by one.

Of course, that wasn't really the scenario of the time, but it felt like it.

"We have located the bomb in the main power room." came Teal'c's solemn voice, slightly distorted, over the radio. "Sergeant Siler and I are attempting to disarm it."

"Acknowledged, Teal'c." came Lt. Simmons voice, from the control room, where the situation was being monitored from.

"Watch yourself, Teal'c." Daniel heard Jack mutter almost inaudible. The Colonel turned to the rest of his team and gestured for them to start towards the bend in the corridor.

As they turned the corner, Daniel caught a flash of blonde hair, and heard Jack shout, "Get back!" an instant before a wave of energy from the Goa'uld ribbon device smashed into him, knocking both himself and the SF next to him into the wall three feet behind them. Daniel didn't move for a moment, stunned, as Jack and the second SF jumped into the corridor, rifles raised, but their assailant was gone. The stunned pair clambered to their feet as Jack spoke rapidly into his radio.

"We've found Carter in section B-15, she's heading towards the Gateroom." Jack started down for the Gateroom at a near run, leaving the rest of his team to hurry after him, weapons ready.

"All personnel on level 28," came Lt. Simmons, doubtless relaying General Hammond's orders. "Converge on the Gateroom. Repeat, hostile is heading for the Gateroom."

"The explosive device has been disarmed." came Teal'c voice, almost overlapping Simmons' statement.

"Freeze!" Major Ferretti was yelling as Jack's team barrelled into the Gateroom, along with nearly a dozen heavily armed soldiers.

Samantha Carter stood, breathing heavily, half-way up the ramp, hand device raised and glowing malevolently. Her hair and clothing was mussed, probably from running pell-mell through the base for over two hours, pursued by as many soldiers as the SGC could muster.

Jack tilted his head as he aimed his rifle at her. "Bang." he said with a smug grin. "You're dead."

"Lieutenant Simmons!" came Hammond's voice like a whipcrack over the PA system. "Time?"

The young lieutenant consulted a readout in the control room, where they were over-looking the action. "Two hours, forty two minutes, thirty six seconds."

Hammond nodded and reached forward to turn on the base-wide microphone. "All personnel, stand-down from drill stations. Repeat, stand-down from drill stations. All team commanders should have their evaluations ready for 0900 hours tomorrow for the performance review." He switched back to the control-Gateroom system and nodded to Carter.

"Well done, Major. Gave them quite the chase."

Sam grinned, her hand device having returned to a dormant state. "Thank you sir." Around her, the teams were lowering their weapons, getting dismissed by their team leaders, and slowly making their way out of the room. Daniel and Jack came up to the Major, who dropped to the ramp and leaned back, still trying to regain her breath.

"Did you have to do that thing so hard?" Daniel muttered, rubbing the back of his hand and gesturing to the ribbon device with the other. "Don't pull your punches, do you?"

Sam smiled. "Well, General Hammond did tell me to make it convincing." Sounding slightly better now, she leaned forward to rest her elbows on her knees. "That was fun. We should do these drills more often." She started pulling the tips of the ribbon device off her fingers. Sure, she was the only person in the SGC who could use it, but it didn't meant that she had to like it.

"Let's just hope they stay drills." Jack pointed out, and the other two nodded in agreement. What they had been simulating - a Goa'uld taking over an SGC member and planting a destructive device on base - was something they hoped they wouldn't have to deal with. Of course there was the whole Asgard-protection treaty, but no one in the chain of command was stupid enough to believe that it made them completely invulnerable.

Sam jumped as the first chevron locked on the Gate, along with an automated message announcing an incoming traveller. She accepted Jack's hand to help her to her feet as the defense teams took up their positions as the fifth and sixth chevrons locked in, and the iris swivelled closed as the seventh engaged and the light started playing on the back wall as the wormhole formed. Sam was almost to the door when Simmons' voice said, "It's the Tok'ra signal." At which point, she reversed her step to bring her back to the middle of the Gateroom. Jack, shrugging slightly at her path, followed her.

The seventh chevron engaged and the wormhole burst into life, revealing one familiar face, and one unfamiliar one, both in recognisable uniforms. The wormhole closed when they got halfway down the ramp, and General Hammond could be heard ordering the defense teams to stand down.

"Hi Dad..." Sam automatically gave Jacob Carter a warm hug as he arrived at the bottom of the ramp, his guard hovering a meter or so behind him.

Jacob took one look at the fully-armed O'Neill and Daniel, and the ribbon device on Sam's hand, looking odd when it was worn with her standard blue jump-suit, and said, "Should I ask?"

Sam glanced at her hand device and quickly put her hand behind her back. "Drill." she said briefly. "Didn't expect to see you, Dad." she said. "What's up?"

Jacob's face took on a pained expression and he glanced at Hammond as the General entered the Gateroom. "I think this is something best discussed somewhere a little less public, Sam." he cautioned her.

Sam's eyes narrowed. "This isn't another mission where you need Jolinar's memories, is it?"

"No... we need yours." Jacob said.

Sam waited for a little more information, but when none was forthcoming, she said, "Come on, Dad. Mysterious really isn't your style. Selmak's maybe, but not yours."

Jacob managed a tight smile. "Well, I'll remind you then that you are, after all, the only person we know of who has seen the inside of the Goa'uld Ate's compound."

"Ate?" Hammond frowned then glanced at Sam. "Isn't the Goa'uld that you were-"

"Tortured by? Yes, sir." Sam shook her head. "I'm not the only one. What about Martouf?"

Jacob didn't answer, just glanced away.

Sam swallowed convulsively. "Oh no..."

**

The Tok'ra's face was bruised and battered, his blood pooling on the floor from where the Jaffa's armour had cut open his skin. Ate doubted that they would stay open for long, the Tok'ra within the host was probably healing him even as she called off her Jaffa, giving him a brief respite.

"Hello," she said to him, as if addressing an old friend. "Remember me?"

The Tok'ra forced open his eyes and stared at her blankly for a moment before licking his lips and sarcastically saying, "Brown hair, bad temper, murderess. Could be an awful lot of the women I know."

"That I don't doubt." Ate said tightly. "Tok'ra aren't exactly known for their sparing of Goa'uld, or their hosts. Kill us all, isn't that your philosophy?"

"You're monsters." the Tok'ra said harshly. "You deserve nothing less than a slow, painful death." He paused.

Ate tilted her head, crouching down next to the Tok'ra. "Indeed. And what are you then?"

"One of the people who'll stop you."

"Such brave words. I suppose you were 'stopping' me from murdering people when the Tok'ra attacked me, then ran off laughing."

The Tok'ra stared at her. "I think I was in too much of a hurry to laugh."

She swiftly stood and kicked him in the stomach, then raised her right foot and planted the heel of her boot on his neck, pressing down hard, against a couple of rather sensitive nerve junctures and the symbiote itself. The Tok'ra managed not to make any sound of pain. She was glad she'd decided to wear the more practical robes rather than then long flowing ones she usually affected. It was much easier to torture prisoners when your movement was unrestricted.

"Do you honestly think I could have posed any threat to you? To the Tok'ra? I didn't ask you to come to my world. I only have this one system. My Jaffa number less than a hundred, I possess only cargo ships." Ate pressed down harder, then, not wanting to kill him too soon, she moved her boot and grabbed his wrist, squeezing harder as she spoke. "But you weren't satisfied were you? You had to attack my world, kill my Jaffa, destroy most of my compound. It's. All. Your. Fault." On the last word, bones in his wrist gave a tell-tale crunch and the Tok'ra yelled in pain. She pushed him away from her. "Yours and that woman's. And I intend to make you both pay for what you've done."

**

The briefing had been going on for a little less than ten minutes, and Sam was feeling ill as she listened to her father describe what had happened. Her mind kept flicking back to what had happened on Ate's planet, what she had gone through... and that had been when Ate wanted in indiscriminate target to take out her need to make Tok'ra suffer on. SG1 sat on one side of the table, and the Tok'ra sat on the other.

"It was more bad luck than anything else." Jacob said, leaning back in his chair. "Martouf and a scout, Helen/Genra..."

"Oh, I remember her." said Daniel Jackson, looking up from stirring sugar into his coffee, then broke off at the looks he got for interrupting. "How's she doing?" he finished.

"I thought you might. And she's ok, sends her greetings." Jacob said smoothly. "The two of them were scouting out potential new homeworlds for the Tok'ra. They had arrived at the third of three possible choices, and were about a mile or so from the Stargate when they were ambushed by Jaffa. There hadn't been any previous intelligence which had indicated it was a Goa'uld world."

"I'd recommend you get some spies in there." said Jack O'Neill, with characteristic sarcasm.

"We know that. But it's not easy matter to infiltrate a Goa'uld's court without raising suspicion." Jacob told Jack. "Anyway, as I was saying, the two were ambushed, and Helen barely managed to make it back to the Stargate to tell us of what had happened. She'd been shot up pretty badly." Jacob paused, apparently listening to something, probably Selmak. "She said that there was a ship that launched just as she reached the Gate. So, it's safe to assume that Ate's facility isn't on Tetrak. We're hoping it's still where it was the last time you met her." As he said that last, he nodded to Sam.

"So you basically want our help in getting in there and retrieving ol' Marty?" Jack summarised.

Jacob somehow managed not to roll his eyes. "Got it in one. My guard and I," He nodded to the Tok'ra beside him, who hadn't been introduced, "Will be accompanying you, so we can take Martouf back to the Tok'ra as soon as we retrieve him."

"Martouf knows the iris code, sir." Sam put forward, speaking to both Jack and Hammond. "I was the one who originally gave them to him. If Ate finds out he has access to Earth, then she'll get the information out of him."

"There's the Asgard treaty." Hammond pointed out.

"Ate doesn't know about it." Jacob said.

"This System Lord may not have a large number of Jaffa," Teal'c said, "But what she does possess could do a great deal of damage were they to make it through the iris."

"That's definitely something we don't want." Hammond noted. He looked to Sam. "Major, can you recall Ate's compound in sufficient detail?"

"Well, sir, I was in a lot of pain at the time, so I wasn't really concentrating," she said, casting her mind back to a time she'd rather not recall. "But from what I could tell there were three main corridors branching out from a central point, and a lot of side corridors off them."

"That's a pretty standard Goa'uld design." said Jacob. "If Sam can recall more information like that, we can work out how to find the most likely place that Martouf is being held."

"I think I can recall the information we need, sir." Sam assured Hammond at his questioning glance.

"So, General, what do you say?" Jack said, turning his chair slightly to face Hammond. "Shall we go and get him?"

"You're confident you can pull this off?" Hammond asked.

"Hey, we went to hell and back. And lived to tell of it, right? This'll be a piece of cake."

"We'll send a MALP through the Stargate to ascertain the status of the Stargate on P8R-273. If it's all clear..." Hammond spread his hands. "Then you'll have a go." He looked around the room. "Dismissed."

**

"Sam..." Janet watched her friend in concern. "Sam, I really think that's enough sugar."

Sam automatically dropped her spoon and raised the coffee cup to her lips. "Ah!" She dropped it again, some of the boiling liquid splashing to the table top. Janet made a face and picked up some of the paper napkins she had grabbed while retrieving her lunch, and started mopping up the spilled mess.

"So," she said, as she finished cleaning up the last traces. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not especially." Sam said, blowing on the surface of her coffee and taking a more cautious sip.

"Ok..." Janet fell silent, spearing a piece of her salad with her fork and chewing on it thoughtful while she studied Sam's rather bleak expression. "I've been thinking," she finally said, catching enough of Sam's attention to make the other woman look at her. "You haven't had a full series of blood tests and spinal fluid analyses in at least... oh... a month."

Sam's eyes narrowed to slits. "Blackmail is unbecoming of a Doctor." she said.

Janet tilted her head. "It's just as well that I'm talking to you as a friend, rather than a Doctor then, isn't it?"

Sam looked at the table top and set her cup down, folding her hands in her lap, looking, for all the world, like a condemned woman. "What do you want to know?" she asked.

"What happened between you and Martouf that's having you acting like..." Janet's hands fluttered in the air vaguely. "Like... your pet dog just died."

"I don't have a dog."

"Fine, your pet cactus!" Janet tried not to lean over the table, knowing that it would be the last thing that Sam needed was to have someone shoving their face in hers. "Sam, talk to me."

There was silence for a long time.

"Sa-"

"I slept with him." Sam interrupted. "Actually, that's not true, I..." she took a deep breath. "I almost slept with him."

Janet nodded slowly and leaned back, setting her fork down in her half-eaten salad, ignoring the food for now. "Almost? Why didn't you?"

"I'm not sure." Sam said. "We... we'd kissed, we'd managed to get over to the bed... touching..." Sam blinked, forcing herself back to the present, to the fact that she was trying to conduct an intelligible conversation. "I don't know why I made him stop. We'd been walking through forest for days, I'd been tortured by that Goa'uld bitch queen, and we'd been growing closer."

Sam had suddenly seemed to slip into a trance, and Janet spoke to bring her out of it. "So what changed?"

"While we were... on the bed..." Sam said haltingly, her voice almost inaudible, not wanting others in the mess hall to hear her. "I got a memory flash, from Jolinar."

Janet tried not to wince. "Ah." she said simply.

"It was shortly after Jolinar had come back from one of her espionage missions. She'd been injured, a bit like me, and she was desperate to see Martouf again. When she went to his quarters... well, you're an adult, Janet, work it out." Sam swallowed convulsively. "I just felt like... I was a substitute for Jolinar. That I was a voyeur. That this wasn't meant for me, it was meant for her. I just went cold. I pushed him away and practically ran out of the room, didn't even say two words to him. Ran out, found my dad with Jack and said I wanted to go back to Earth. I managed to avoid him before we left."

Sam sniffed slightly, grabbing one of the napkins which was not coffee soaked and dabbed at her face. "So, as you can tell, we didn't exactly part on the best terms."

"I'm sure he wouldn't blame you." Janet said, trying to sound reassuring. "You can't be held responsible for when these memories flashes take place, or what they show you."

"He doesn't even know why I ran." Sam interjected quietly. "He doesn't know that I experienced one of Jolinar's memories."

Janet wanted to scream at her friend 'Why the hell not? You should have tried!', but instead she just shook her head sadly. "Then when you see him, you can explain."

"Of course," Sam said, raising her coffee to her lips again. "That does depend on us finding him again."

"Don't be pessimistic." Janet said briskly. "You need a more positive mindset."

"Positive my..." Sam trailed off and was about to take a sip of her drink when a voice came over the PA system. "Major Carter to the control room." Sam looked at the ceiling automatically, as if it were the one doing the talking. "Major Carter to the control room."

"That's my cue." she said, setting down her mug and managing to inject some humour into her tone. Janet tried to smile along with her, but failed miserably, the remorseful expression on Sam's face was enough to put her off. "I'll see you later, Janet."

Janet nodded and waved absently. "Bye." She stared after her friend as she walked out of the door and then sighed. She stood and headed for the deserts. She really needed a large piece of chocolate cake.

**

When Sam arrived in the control room, she found the room flooded with the bluish light from the wormhole, and the rest of her team assembled there, staring at the MALP as it trundled through the event horizon of the wormhole. Her father was also there, staring over Lieutenant Simmons' shoulder at the monitors.

Hammond noticed her and beckoned her forward. "We're sending the MALP through to P8R-273 now."

Sam nodded in response, and commandeered one of the swivel chairs to sit in front of another monitor and pull up the a display of the MALP's telemetry that was also displaying itself on Lt. Simmons' screen. "Object has reached its destination." she reported at a signal from the probe.

"We're receiving MALP telemetry." Simmons said, pulling it up and putting it on the overhead monitors.

The image transmitted by the MALP bore no resemblance to the planet that Sam remembered from her time on that world. Granted, she had been in excruciating pain and semi-conscious most of the time, but the difference was so startling, it would have taken an idiot not to notice it.

"I don't think the Goa'uld are there anymore." she said softly.

The forests that had covered the landscape as far as the eye could see were gone, and in their places were kilometres upon kilometres of charcoal, a few stumps visible by the MALP. The grass was gone, and covered in ash. There were a few large craters, the largest being in the place where a cliff had once existed; all that remained was rocky rubble. The sun was obscured by the thick clouds in the air, giving the landscape a greyish tint.

"The atmosphere's filled with dust," Simmons said, reading from his screen. "And the temperature's dropped to about 3 degrees Celsius."

"Looks like the place was bombarded from orbit." Selmak put forward quietly. "Shipboard weapons are the only type of device I can think of that would cause damage of that scale."

"Ate didn't have a Goa'uld mothership." Sam reminded her colleagues.

"She didn't?" echoed Hammond.

"Major Carter is correct." Selmak said. "Ate's forces were negligible. She held only one system. And the blast pattern is not consistent with my knowledge of Goa'uld weaponry. Theirs is mainly pulse based technology." Selmak leaned forward slightly and pointed as a section of the screen. "Please magnify this section."

Simmons glanced at Hammond briefly, then did as requested. Selmak nodded, as if what she saw didn't surprise her at all. "It appears to have been a particle beam weapon."

"What's the difference?" asked Jack.

"Well, pulse technology is much more efficient." Sam said. "You can channel energy into a single burst that does the same, if not more damage than a beam. With a beam, it has to be sustained, so the overall energy usage is much greater, but it as long as you have enough power to compensate, it does the same damage."

"Ah." Jack said, "So, these people would have to be a little more technologically advanced than the Gou'ld? To have more power?"

"Perhaps." mused Selmak.

Hammond looked thoughtful. "What about those aliens you encountered? Didn't they have a colony on that world."

"Aliens?" echoed Sam. "No one ever told me about aliens."

"Oh yeah," Jacob said, taking over from his symbiote. "They sort of told us where to find you."

"Oh." Sam glared at her team-mates. "And no one told me this?"

"You /were/ unconscious for most of the debrief, remember?" said Daniel.

"I was tired." Sam said defensively.

"Anyway," Hammond said, interrupting. "These aliens."

Jack nodded. "Maybe they got tired of the Gou'ld being there."

"The Seruuan," said Teal'c, "Said that they hid from the Goa'uld. I have never heard of this species attacking the Goa'uld, even though they claimed to have shared the same planet as the System Lords."

'At least someone remembers the name of those aliens.' thought Jack.

"I think we should go there." said Daniel, "See if these aliens are still there."

Hammond shook his head. "We have more pressing matters than that. Martouf has the iris code for Earth, and with the transmitter remaining with the Tok'ra, we can't change the codes without locking any visitors from the Tok'ra out. I need you to remain here to make plans for how to get in and out to retrieve Martouf."

"How about assigning another SG team?" suggested Jack. "I know for a fact that SG-2 are chewing on the carpet waiting for a new mission."

Hammond thought for a moment. "Good idea." He nodded to Simmons. "Continue gathering MALP telemetry and tell Major Ferretti he has a new mission." Simmons nodded and Hammond turned back to SG1 and Jacob. "So, if Ate isn't on this planet, where is she?"

**

On the planet N'horkas, inside a dark little cell, Martouf lay on his side, trying not to breathe too deeply, for fear of the hot lances of pain that seemed to travel up and down his body whenever he did more than blink. Even that ached.

'Oh stop complaining.' ordered Lantesh, sparing some of his attention from repairing the host body to speak to the host. 'I assure you, I am feeling this pain far more acutely than you are, and for that, you should thank me.'

'Really.' Martouf replied tiredly. 'So, what's the bad news, now that you're speaking?'

'Well, from the top, literally, concussion, severe bruising on the neck region...'

'Those boots are really painful.'

'You're telling me? Then we have at least one fractured rib, bruising of the intercostal muscles, the bones in your right wrist seem to exist in a powdered form at the moment, and considering all the other damage, I don't think I'll be able to fix them any time soon.'

'In that case, I'm assuming you're putting a nerve block on it?'

'Of course, otherwise you'd be screaming in pain. Well, more than you already are.' Lantesh hesitated. 'Martouf... you've got some nasty damage in your nervous system from the ribbon device, neurones that are misfiring badly. I can't control it all. If she keeps it up, I'm going to have to block you out entirely so you can sleep through it. I don't think you can take much more of it and remain... well... completely sane.'

'Believe me, Lantesh, I will not object to that.'

'Good. What I found curious is that she is not asking us any questions.'

'It's not as if she needs an excuse to torture us.' Martouf groaned slightly as he tried to move his arm, and the nerves all the way to his chest screamed in agony. He stopped trying to move and just lay there. 'How many times have we been captured and tortured, Lantesh?'

'While being blended or in the last few days?'

'Blended.'

'Four? Five?'

'Four or five times too many if you ask me. As Jacob says, we have terrible luck.'

'We've always managed to get out of the situations before.'

'Let's hope this time is no different.' Martouf turned his head slightly, ignoring the pain momentarily, to look at the door as it slid open to admit Ate, flexing the hand on which she wore her ribbon device, which was glowing softly.

Lantesh kept his word about putting Martouf to sleep.

**

Sam Carter sat alone in her lab on level twenty one, a large sheet of paper spread on the table in front of her, tapping a black marker against the edge of the work-surface. She stared hard at the page, which had a few thick black lines sketched on it, and very little else.

"Nice drawing," commented a voice from over her shoulder. Sam automatically jumped and spun her chair around to see her Dad standing a couple of feet away from her.

"I wish people would stop sneaking up on me like that." she muttered viciously, tossing the marker to the table.

"Sorry, Sam," Jacob said, frowning, then stepped up beside her and leaned forward, resting his elbows on table next to her drawing. "What's up, kid?"

Sam sighed. "I'm never going to remember the layout of this facility." she said in disgust, waving her hand at the drawing.

Jacob looked down at what she had done so far. "Well... what you've got... that's pretty good."

'Jacob, it looks like something my third host's past child drew.'

'You had a child? Oh yeah, Teirna did. Before she was Blended.'

'Right.'

"It looks like a child's scribble." Sam said, shaking her head. "I just... can't remember!"

Jacob placed a hand on his daughter's back gently. "It's alright. You were injured. It's understandable if you can't remember. No one's going to force you."

Sam didn't answer, just put her head in her hands and sighed deeply.

"Sam, what's wrong?"

"Nothing." Sam replied. "Nothing at all."

'Jacob, I think this situation calls for a woman's touch.'

'Is that your less than subtle way of-'

Jacob's head dipped as Selmak took over control of their body.

'Yep, I thought so. And just because you were a woman, doesn't make you an expert.'

'Of course it does, Jacob. Now be quiet and take a nap so I can talk to your daughter.'

'Fine, fine...'

"Samantha, would I be incorrect in assuming that your current state of mind has something to do with Martouf?" Selmak asked, pulling over a chair and sitting down.

Sam looked at Selmak out of the corner of her eyes. "Did Dad give you that idea?"

"He didn't need to." Selmak replied with a smile. "Simple observation, and experience, sufficed."

"Really." Sam said.

"And besides which, I guessed it was something to do with that, because Martouf had this tendency to flinch and look away whenever the Tau'ri were mentioned." Selmak tilted her head and regarded Sam carefully. "What happened between the two of you?"

'Jacob, mind if I...?'

'Yeah, I know. Go ahead and plug the hearing back here.'

"Don't worry," Selmak said, "Your father cannot hear you."

Sam stared at Selmak for a moment, then, apparently deciding that the Tok'ra was telling the truth, she launched into what had transpired between the Martouf and herself the last time they had seen each other. Selmak was silent for a long moment after she had heard the entire story.

"Well..." she finally said. "I think that's the first such story... of that type... that I have heard. Although you are the only former host to a deceased Tok'ra that I know. Apart from Erinye, and she rarely talks to anyone about anything nowadays."

"Erinye? She's..."

"The host Cordesh took by force." Selmak paused. "I really don't know what to say to you. Only that such things tend to work themselves out."

"Speak from experience, Selmak?" Sam asked, a slight smile lighting her features.

"In a way." Selmak responded, grinning. After a moment, unable to resist, Sam also grinned.

Selmak tapped the paper playfully. "Keep drawing, young lady."

"Aye, sir." said Sam, grin still on her face, as she picked up her pen once more.

**

Major Louis Ferretti and the rest of SG-2 stepped out of the Stargate and slowly surveyed the landscape.

"Nice." said Captain Hunter, the 2iC. "I think this place resembles the last place I went on holiday."

Captain Bethany Fields said, "Let me guess," a wry smile lit her face. "You never travelled with that company ever again?"

"Damned right, Beth." answered Hunter.

"Maybe you can go to P4F-145 for your next vacation." Fields said, raising her eyebrows.

Hunter coughed self-consciously; none of the team had forgotten their experience on that planet, where the Captain had managed to get a /little/ tipsy and started a rousing chorus of 'my old man's a dustman' which he had apparently learnt whilst on leave in England from his sister's husband some time ago. Fields maintained to that day that he had also tried to seduce half the female population of the planet. She wouldn't disclose whether she had been included in the count, and Hunter claimed he couldn't remember.

"Well this certainly makes a change from routine." commented Ferretti, drawing attention away from the state of the planet which was, frankly, depressing. "Us, having to rescue a Tok'ra."

"God forbid our lives should be predictable." said Hunter.

"Uh..." the fourth member of their team, Lieutenant Kingston, was looking at the ground. "Does anyone else hear that?"

Ferretti listened carefully as Fields and Hunter fell silent. The almost-screeching sound was familiar to him. "Ok, everyone off the-"

That was as far as he got before the transport rings leapt up from the ground and enveloped them, causing them to reappear somewhere that was lit by narrow fluorescent yellow strips on the walls. The place they stood appeared to be a perfect cylinder, slightly flattened at floor level so they could walk on it. The walls of the tunnel was a sort of reddish stone, highly polished, and had several elegant characters (which could have been the recipe for the perfect banana walnut cake for all Ferretti knew) carved into them in a silver colour.

Fields ran her hand on the surface of the wall. "It's perfectly smooth." she said. "No seams anywhere I can see. They just tunnelled straight through."

"Using some sort of laser?" asked Ferretti. "And who's 'they'?"

Fields shrugged. "Got me. On both counts."

"Sir!" Kingston and Hunter's simultaneous shout brought Fields and her CO around, weapons raised, as two aliens stepped towards them. They were tall and willowy, and their skin had a pale green cast to it.

"Greetings, Tau'ri." said the taller of the two, bowing slightly, before looking to them quizzically. "I am Im'rui. You are unknown to us, but you were looking for us."

Ferretti glanced at Hunter, who shrugged microscopically, not lowering his weapon. "Ah... I guess so. We were trying to find out what caused the damage on the surface."

"That was us." Im'rui said.

Ferretti frowned. "We were also told to find out why."

"The Goa'uld were searching for us. We could not permit our location to be discovered, or those of our Human companions. The Goa'uld began the destruction, we merely finished it." Im'rui had apparently said all it was going to say on the matter. "Please lower your weapons, or my guard will believe you are hostile."

The team glanced at Ferretti, and, at a nod from him, slowly lowered their weapons, but did not remove their hands from them.

"We're trying to follow the trail of the Goa'uld who rei... inhabited this world." Ferretti rethought his words at the last moment. He had a feeling these aliens wouldn't like the thought of a Goa'uld 'ruling' them.

"As our orbital platforms attacked the surface," Im'rui said, gesturing to the ceiling, presumably indicating space or the surface. "The Goa'uld evacuated in several transport ships. We can give you the direction they initially headed in, but we did not track them once they entered hyperspace."

Ferretti nodded, and Im'rui raised its hand again, gesturing in his direction. He first thought it was going to offer him some sort of data storage device with the information on it, but, with crystal clarity, he found himself looking at an image of a planet from space, with co-ordinates and curves drawn in in bright colours. He staggered back, and as Fields' hand's prevented him from collapsing, or hitting her and knocking her over, he blinked, and realised that what he had seen was only in his mind.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

"Remember, the briefing said they were telepathic." murmured Fields.

"Thank you, Beth, I do remember." replied Ferretti in an undertone. Fields coloured in embarrassment and looked away, dropping her hands. "Now." he added.

"You now have the direction they travelled in." Im'rui said, "Do not be alarmed. The information will remain in your mind until you have passed it on to others, then it will remove itself from your long term memory."

"Great." responded Ferretti. He glanced at Hunter, as if to say 'please tell me we didn't need anything else' to which Hunter responded with a negative head shake. "Thanks for your time." he said rather lamely.

"An enemy of the Goa'uld is a friend of ours." Im'rui said softly, and raised all four of it's hands, making an elaborate gesture.

With that odd semi-screeching noise, the transporter rings descended from the ceiling and surrounded SG2, who, within seconds, found themselves back on the desolate surface.

"Are you alright?" asked Hunter, taking his hands off his rifle.

"Yeah fine. I just love having aliens mess with my head." responded Ferretti.

"Just be glad you're not on SG1, Louis." said Kingston. The team was quite informal with one another, always addressing each other on a first name basis. "I hear that they get that sort of thing every other mission."

"That's pretty accurate." said Ferretti. "Want to dial us up, Dave?" Kingston nodded and headed for the DHD.

Hunter was looking about them as Kingston hit the first glyph. "You know, I saw the images of this place from SG1's mission report." he said. "Wasn't such a bad place."

Fields wrinkled her nose. "Bit like flaming a town to get rid of termites in one house. Idiots." she said, pronouncing judgement on the entire Seruuan race.

"And on that note." Ferretti said, gesturing to the now open wormhole. "After you, Beth."

"Very funny. I'm /not/ an idiot. Now send the iris code."

"If you insist..."

**

One of the few things that Ate had to be proud of was the fact that she had one or two Goa'uld who were actually quite talented scientists sworn loyalty to her, and a few Humans who functioned as Techs taken from worlds one at a time, so that the Goa'uld who ruled on those worlds didn't even notice their disappearance. So, that gave her the resources for maintaining a laboratory which did, on occasion, come up with rather interesting products.

"This is it?" Ate demanded, turning over the vial in her hand. The pale purplish liquid inside cast an odd shadow on her small hands. "It's not particularly impressive."

"Your majesty!" the Tech squeaked, moving as if to take the vial from Ate's grasp before the System Ruler dropped it. "Please, that's highly toxic."

"It had better be more than toxic." Ate said, bored with making the Tech squirm, and tossed the vial across the space between them. The Tech scrambled for it, catching it and placing it on a table where it wouldn't fall and break. "It had better be deadly."

"It is! It is." The Tech assured her hastily. "We've tested it strenuously from the original that was... uh... acquired from the Rennet. It'll work."

"What is the incubation period?" Ate asked, picking up a few other coloured vials dotted around on the counter, ignoring the fidgeting of the Tech.

"Approximately twenty hours." replied the Tech. "Please, my lady... those are quite danger-" The Tech broke off at Ate's glare. "-ous." she finished subaudibly.

"I believe you told me that." Ate informed the Tech, dropping the vial to the counter-top. "I'm bored." She declared, turning on her heel and heading for the door.

"Uh... your highness..." The Tech quivered slightly as Ate glanced back at her. "Where will you be.... should I need to contact you about the research?"

Ate's mouth twisted into something approximating a smile. "I'm going to play with the Tok'ra."

**

"Incoming traveller." Technician Davies silently counted down from ten as she tapped away on her keyboard after uttering that phrase, and as she approached three, she heard Hammond enter the control room and say,

"Which teams are currently off-world?"

"Five and seven." Davies informed him, then peered at her screen as the computer flashed the 'code accepted' screen at her, and waited for confirmation. "Sir, it's the Tok'ra signal."

"Open the iris." Hammond turned to Sergeant Harriman. "Summon Jacob Carter."

Harriman leaned forward and pressed a switch on his mike as Davies fed the computer her palmprint in order to open the iris. "Jacob Carter to the Control Room. Jacob Carter to the Control room."

There was the screech of metal on metal as the iris opened, and the guards barely moved as they waited for their visitor.

A tall beige-clad figure stumbled through the event horizon of the Stargate and halfway down the ramp before she managed to come to a halt. She glanced at the defense room guards, who looked ready to shoot her if she breathed in the wrong way.

"Oops." she muttered, looking to the control room. "I tripped on the top step." she explained in an embarrassed tone.

"That's Larrell/Aela." Jacob said as he entered the Control room in time to see Larrell's entrance. There was a slight note of exasperation in his voice, as if he expected her pratfall.

Hammond nodded as, in the Gateroom, Larrell raised her voice slightly. "I have information about Ate's current location!"

"Maybe this'll clear up that information SG2 brought back." said Hammond, to which Jacob nodded as Hammond leaned forward and ordered the defense guards to stand down. "We certainly haven't made any progress."

"Right. Lieutenant, call SG1 and have our guest escorted to the briefing room."

**

Daniel was a little surprised to see yet another Tok'ra in the briefing room as he followed Teal'c inside. Jack, Hammond, Jacob and his guard were already seated, talking in low tones, while the female Tok'ra simply sat quietly, hands folded in her lap.

Hammond looked up as the two entered the room. "Ah, good, you're here." He gestured to the female Tok'ra. "Gentlemen, this is-"

"Larrell," Daniel said, interrupting. "We've met." He nodded to the her. "Nice to see you again."

Larrell offered a smile. "You too, Doctor, Colonel, Teal'c." she bobbed her head to each of them in turn.

"I guess that we're just waiting for-" Jack broke off as Sam entered the room.

"Sorry, I'm late." she said apologetically. "Problem with one of the naqada reactors."

"Now you're here we can get started." said Hammond, gesturing to the only available seat, next to Larrell towards the end of the table.

"You've got new information on Ate's whereabouts?" Jacob asked Larrell as Sam took her chair, cutting straight to the chase. The SGC officers sat forward slightly, waiting to hear what Larrell had to offer.

Larrell bowed her head in agreement. "One of our scouts in the Gammak sector monitored ship movements from the planet you refer to as P8R-273, to another inhabitable planet in that sector called N'horkas. That region of space is virtually devoid of other Goa'uld activity, which seems to follow Ate's pattern of avoiding other System Lords." Larrell tapped the tabletop, in a gesture of deep thought. Jacob frowned, conferring with his symbiote.

"Do you have the co-ordinates of the planet?" Hammond asked, and Larrell nodded, rummaging in her belt pouch, before pulling out a small strip of what looked like thin plastic, six Stargate glyphs written on it in black. She tossed it into the centre of the table, and Sam picked it up to examine curiously.

"What is this?"

"A Stargate address minus the point of origin."

"I mean what it's written on."

"A synthetic polymer." Larrell looked embarrassed. "It was the only thing I could find to write on."

"Plastic." Jack said, giving Sam a 'put the new toy down' look.

"If that is what you call it. We don't have much in the way of disposable writing materials." Larrell said.

"Have you been able to determine what sort of facility Ate's using?" Jacob asked, to which Larrell responded by shaking her head.

"No. We assume that she is using a standardised design, as she has few resources to spare on design." she said.

"We surmised that Ate was using a chen'ret layout for her facility from the information that Sam's managed to recall." Jacob said, inclining his head towards his daughter. "If what you say is true, the same design should be used here. We can narrow down the possible rooms in which Martouf is being held in that case."

"Narrow down?" repeated Jack. "So we're going to have to traipse all over this Gould's place looking for him?"

"One section of it, anyway." said Jacob.

Jack shook his head. "What fun." he muttered.

"It's important that this mission go ahead as soon as possible." said Hammond. "Mission briefing will be at 0900 tomorrow morning, you'll depart one hour after."

"Yes, sir." Sam and Jack said, more or less simultaneously. Sam was a little slower in her response, obviously preoccupied.

"Then I will return to the homeworld." Larrell said, bowing her head slightly.

"Actually, Larrell," Jacob interrupted. "I'd like you to accompany us on the mission. An extra body would be very useful."

Larrell smiled and nodded in agreement. "Of course."

Hammond glanced about, seeing no questioning expressions on the faces of his officers and said, "Dismissed."

Larrell and Jacob's guard stood at the same moment as SG1 and the six of them filed out of the door. Hammond was about to go to his office, when he realised that Jacob hadn't moved, and was staring at nothing in particular with a frown on his face.

"Jake?" Hammond said, catching Jacob's attention. "What wrong?"

"Nothing, George." Jacob said, smiling to ease Hammond's mind. "Just trying to remember when we put scouts in the Gammak sector, that's all."

**

Martouf's eyes opened a slit as Ate entered his cell, accompanied by two Jaffa, who, for once, didn't come anywhere near him, but hovered near their Queen, and a diminutive Human, Lantesh couldn't sense a Goa'uld within her, so it was safe to assume she was from a slave world. The coverings that the Human was wearing were of the type that seemed to characterise scientist's garb everywhere: functional, with a lot of pockets. Probably a technician or a medic. To judge by the syringe held in her hand, Martouf guessed it was the latter, although Lantesh cynically pointed out that it was unlikely to heal them.

"Wake up, my dear," murmured Ate, waving the medic forward with what looked like wariness. "Wouldn't want you to miss this."

The medic edged forward, as if worried Martouf would attack her. Martouf doubted that he would have been able to if he'd wanted to. He swallowed several times, before managing to croak out, "Miss what?"

Ate smiled, like a feline that had managed to catch its prey. "My vengeance." she said simply, and nodded sharply to the medic.

The medic came to barely within arms length and pressed the tip of the hypodermic syringe to Martouf's carotid artery on the first attempt; the sensation of the purplish liquid in the vial emptying itself into the blood vessel was a painful experience that Martouf could have lived without.

'What is that?' he queried Lantesh.

There was silence from his symbiote. 'Lantesh?'

'Oh no...' muttered Lantesh, and, before Martouf could say anything further, he launched himself into trying to defend the host body. The sudden intensifying of the symbiote's attention of his body made Martouf slightly dizzy, and he groaned slightly.

That seemed to satisfy Ate, as she smiled in that unnerving manner once more, before spinning on her heel and marching out of the room.

**

Daniel's first opinion of the world that Larrell had called N'horkas was that it was hot. Very hot, with only a little breeze. The normal cooling effects of the gate were somewhat nullified as he felt they were stepping out into a wave of warm air, and his clothing began to stick to his skin. He hated planets like that.

The Stargate was situated in the middle of a forest, exclusively made up of trees that seems to resemble pines, even down to the carpet of needles covering the ground. Daniel was reminded of the Christmas trees he'd had in the past, characterised by the pine needles that you were still sweeping up till mid-April. Of course, he hadn't had one of those since he had joined the program. There just wasn't any time; if he remembered rightly, he had spent last Christmas, along with the rest of SG1, playing a game of hide and seek in a veritable rabbit's warren of caves, trying to evade a platoon of Jaffa and get back to the Gate.

The Gate itself was placed against a huge granite wall, one side smoothly polished so that the Gate could rest against it perfectly, while there were two obelisks, covered with Goa'uld characters, standing on either side of the DHD, made out of the same grey stone as the rock was. That was probably where they had gotten the stone from, Daniel thought. The was behind those three objects that SG1 and their Tok'ra companions hid behind as they leapt from the Gate, taking up positions that had been decided upon from viewing the MALP telemetry. Daniel was crouching behind the left obelisk with Larrell, Sam and Teal'c were behind the other, and Jacob and Jack were hiding behind the DHD, just in case there had been someone waiting for them.

Daniel stared at the obelisks with open curiosity. "These are new." he murmured. "There's no weathering at all."

Larrell gave little more than a cursory glance towards the obelisk. "Ate put it here when she arrived." she paused. "Probably."

Daniel nodded in agreement and was about to say something further when Jack's voice interrupted. "If you two are quite finished?"

Daniel stifled the urge to roll his eyes as the group clambered to their feet, still watching carefully for any sign of Jaffa. It was unlikely they could approach without being seen, as the trunks of the trees were too thin to hide behind, and were widely spaced.

Jack was already handing out orders. "Daniel, send the MALP back, Larrell, where did you say this Gould's place was?"

"I didn't." said Larrell primly, stepping aside to allow Daniel to get to the DHD in order to dial up Earth. "It is approximately 2 Krefal away from here, chal'nek."

There was a puzzled silence, then Jacob sighed. "The Tok'ra use a different system of measurement, I'm afraid it doesn't translate well. Krefal is a little more than a klick, and chal'nek is westwards."

"Ah." Jack said. "Carter..." Sam nodded and pulled the compass out of one of her jacket pockets. Daniel, having sent the MALP back home, stepped away from the DHD and joined the loose group they had formed.

Finally, Sam said, "West is... that way." She pointed her arm in the specific direction.

There was a point where objects simply became too far away to be seen clearly, but if he concentrated hard enough, Daniel was half-convinced that he could make out a vague outline of a building. That, he guessed, would be Ate's compound.

They encountered no resistance as they approached the large building, and Larrell suggested that it might be due to a lack of Jaffa; Ate simply didn't have sufficient manpower to patrol the whole of the local area. Of course, it couldn't last.

Teal'c levelled his staff weapon at two Jaffa, quickly dispatching them as he said, "O'Neill! There are two teams of Jaffa heading this way!" A quick glance to the north and south showed that what Teal'c had said was the truth.

"There should be an entrance along here somewhere." Jacob called, as the group made their way, under fire, along the edge of the compound.

There was a scream and Larrell collapsed to the ground, her left upper arm having been burnt badly by the staff weapon wielded by one of the Jaffa. The wound was cauterised, and Daniel knew that Aela was undoubtedly taking care of it. Confirmed a moment later when Teal'c helped her to her feet as she repeated, "It's alright, I'm alright," like a mantra.

The door was a rectangular opening, with the typical Goa'uld disregard for anything flowing and organic looking. It was as if they were saying 'sod nature, we're here now'. One method of imposing their way on others, Daniel supposed. But he could contemplate the connotations of Goa'uld design later, devoted his attention to destroying the lock. All it took was one well-placed zat gun blast from Jack and the lock fried, the door opening by default.

"So where do we look?" demanded Jack as the shooting continued, driving the group inside the building and into alcoves on either side of the doorway.

Larrell's head swivelled to and fro, looking at the walls surrounding her. Finally, she bent down slightly to look at the small keypad. "I can access Ate's database!" She called.

"Larrell!" Jacob yelled, trying to get the woman's attention as her fingers danced over the data access point, trying to manipulate the keys as well as she could with the use of only one hand.

Larrell ducked her head from weapons fire, and resisted the tugging on her arm for a few moments longer. "Martouf is being held in corridor six, cell twelve." She pointed. "That way. Third corridor to your right, twelfth cell on the left."

"Great! Carter, Daniel, with me. Teal'c, stay with Jacob and Larrell and guard the exit." Jack snapped as Larrell finally took to running towards Jacob and Teal'c, away from the weapons fire. The three members of the SG1 team took off down the corridor in the direction Larrell had indicated.

**

"Nine, ten, eleven..." counted Jack as they ran down the corridor. "Let's see what's behind door number twelve." A first attempt at opening the door was unsuccessful, but after shooting it with a zat gun, the lock shorted out and the door slid open.

Jack hung back around the door as Sam ran in ahead of the others. "Oh god." she breathed as she caught sight of the person they had been sent to retrieve.

He looked terrible, as if someone had decided to use him as a punching bag. Bruised all over the exposed parts of his body, and probably the parts that weren't exposed as well, he was crumpled in the corner of the cell, shaking slightly.

"Daniel, give me a hand," Sam ordered as she strode over, slinging her MP5 behind her back. She knelt down and grabbed his upper arm, wincing as she heard him hiss in pain, and turned him over, with Daniel's help.

"Don't..." Martouf's voice was weak. "Don't touch..."

"Martouf," Sam said, her voice calm and filled with a confidence she certainly did not feel. "It's alright, we're going to get you out of here."

Martouf shook his head, and it was Lantesh who spoke, his voice barely recognisable. "Ate... infected us... with... virus. Deadly. Harms symbiote. I think... passed through... physical contact."

"Shit." muttered Sam, and looked to Daniel, who had also heard that pronouncement. The two of them both had their hands resting on Martouf as they had started to pick him up.

Jacks stared at them, wondering why they had stopped moving. "What? What's wrong?"

'Nothing that a general anaesthetic wouldn't cure.' Sam thought. 'I would just like to sleep through the next few years, if some nice divine power would be so kind.'

"Lantesh says he has a virus, passed through physical contact, deadly to symbiotes." she summarised in a few short breaths.

"Nice." muttered Jack. "Ok, let's get him out of here, neither of you have snakes, so we'll worry about that in a minute."

Sam grabbed Martouf's right arm, pulling it over her shoulder, while Daniel did the same to the Tok'ra left arm, the two of them managing to get Martouf into some semblance of a standing position and start to drag him out of the cell and into the corridor. When Jack stopped dead, Daniel and Sam almost carried on walking straight into his back.

Ate was standing at the mid-point of the corridor, Jaffa no where in sight, with her arm outstretched and a nasty smile on her face. Before Jack could fire on her, a wave of energy travelled outwards from her hand and slammed him to the ground. Sam grabbed her sidearm and fire twice on the Goa'uld, but her bullets bounced harmlessly off the personal forcefield.

"Oh please," Ate said, lowering her hand. "I would have given you a little more credit than that."

"Really?" Sam said, casting a glance at her team-mates, sitting stunned on the floor, as she climbed to her feet. "I wasn't aware you felt so highly of me."

"I don't." Ate responded flatly. "You are, after all, a Tok'ra'kree'tol!"

Sam didn't bother stating that she wasn't a Tok'ra. Not only would it waste time, hadn't Garshaw herself said that the Tau'ri were Tok'ra, after a fashion? "Flattered. Really, I am."

"As much as I would enjoy a conversation with you, Tok'ra, I don't believe you have the time." Ate's eyes flickered to just behind Sam, where Jack and Daniel were getting to their feet; Jack casting his gaze about for another escape route.

"You might like to know one thing." Ate said, looking as if she were conducting a normal conversation. "While your Tok'ra friend was with us, I infected him with a virus. A particularly nasty little thing." Ate smiled. "It's passed by physical contact, and affects anyone possessing a symbiote."

"I know that. Why are you telling me this?" demanded Sam, as Ate lurked well out of arms reach.

"I'd like the pleasure of knowing that he's suffering and dying while your watching him, and knowing that you'll be scrambling for a cure without success. Unable to go near any members of the Tok'ra for fear of passing on the virus." Ate took a deep breath, and her voice acquired a sing-song quality. "These are the moments that make life worth living."

"Sorry," Sam said, in a bitter tone. "But I'll have to disappoint you."

Ate narrowed her eyes and opened her mouth to call her guards, but before a single syllable could escape her, Sam leapt to her feet, bounding across the few meters between them and slipped inside the personal shield that protected Ate from attackers. That was, of course, presuming they stayed outside the field itself.

Ate's hands automatically clutched at Sam's shoulders as the other woman attacked her, and there was a moment of stunned silence as Ate glanced down at her midsection to see the bright red blood welling up. She could only stare in astonishment at the knife in Sam's hand.

"Well..." she said in a choked out voice, speech making the blood flow faster. "That was unexpected." She blinked, obviously trying to split her attention between repairing the host body and speaking to her enemy. The hand device glowed weakly, but did not activate. "You don't believe that will be enough to kill me, do you?" she asked.

"Not really." Sam pulled the knife out of Ate's stomach and ignored the other's hand suddenly tightened reflexively on her shoulders. She held up the blood stained object in front of Ate's face and regarded it as she would a specimen in the xeno-biology lab. Her eyes flicked up to Ate's.

**

Sam and Daniel, dragging the now-unconscious Martouf between the pair of them, were only a meter or so behind Jack as they exited the building and met up with their team-mates.

"Martouf, Major Carter..." Larrell started towards the group, her hand outstretched as if to help.

"Don't come any closer!" Sam almost shrieked, stopping Larrell in her tracks. "He's got some sort of virus. Affects people with symbiotes."

A slightly panicked look crossed Jacob's face. "Then you'll have to take him back to Earth with you. We can't risk taking them to the Tok'r-"

A staff weapon blast struck the ground near Jack's feet, prompting he and Teal'c to return fire, joined, after a moment, by Larrell, firing her zat'nik'atel. The sudden attack reminded them all of the need to keep moving and they started running, as fast as they could while carrying a dead-weight, back towards the Stargate.

"What about Ate?" demanded Jacob, taking the opportunity to fire at the Jaffa himself.

"Dead." responded Sam flatly, adjusting her grip on Martouf's arm to carry him a little better.

She didn't say another word as they ran through the forest, kicking up pine needles and leaving an easily-followed trail in their wake. They didn't have time to be stealthy, so they ignored the tracks and carried on straight through the forest. The Stargate was easily visible as soon as they came within a little over a hundred meters, but the time taken to traverse the distance seemed to stretch out into infinity. Sam's legs, arms and shoulders were aching and screaming at her to stop running NOW by the time they reached the Gate itself.

Jack was the first to the DHD, and, not wanting Daniel to have to let go of Martouf, starting punching in the glyphs himself. "We'll gate to a different world and alert the SGC." Teal'c and Larrell continued firing at the approaching Jaffa.

"Sam..." Jacob looked at his daughter in concern. "Are you injured?"

Sam looked at her hands, dark with blood, the fluid having covered most of her arms and soaked into the front of her jacket. She shook her head at her father and said in a dead voice, "The blood isn't mine."

The Gate opened, and she struggled up the few steps to the Gate, before practically falling through the event horizon.

**

"This is SG-1. The mission was a success and we have Gated to P9K-471. Martouf has been infected with a virus passed through physical contact. Dr Jackson and Major Carter are the only ones who have had such contact. According to their symbiotes, Teal'c, Larrell and General Carter are uninfected. Request that the SGC prepare for our arrival with a full Decon and HazMat team standing by."

**

Janet Frasier stood in the Gateroom, clothed from head to foot in the encasing protective garment that shielded her from the outside. Her air came in filtered, with a slightly sterile quality, but even so, she could smell the faint trace of disinfectant gases as they spewed thick plumes of white at the event horizon, spraying the entire six-man team, and their charge, with the choking substance.

As fits of uncontrollable coughing filled the air, Janet and her similarly garbed medical colleagues leapt forward before the team way more than halfway down the ramp, taking Martouf off their hands and placing him on a gourney.

"Ok!" Janet snapped, hoping that she could make herself heard through the suit and with the various noises in the Gateroom. "Everyone here gets to quarantine units 5 through 11, now!" Jacob looked like he was about to protest, no doubt to say that Selmak would know if he was infected. "No arguments!" she snapped, her 'I'm a doctor' voice in full force.

Turning her attention away from him to Martouf, who was now unconscious on the gourney. "Get Martouf to ICU-4, full quarantine procedures. Ok, people, let's move it!"

Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the six members of the retrieval team trying to fight the orderlies, who were having none of their nonsense, and soon the group was being manhandled into environmental suits and out of the Gateroom just after Janet's team. As they travelled down towards the ICU unit, two airman followed, spraying the corridors with disinfectant. One thing about unpainted concrete tunnels was that they were easily cleaned in cases such as this.

They travelled up two levels to the ICU lab which had been prepared since they had received word via radio transmission through the wormhole of the situation. Unfortunately, Janet could only claim limited knowledge of the sort of relationship between host and symbiote, and what to do in cases such as this. They couldn't risk bringing in a Tok'ra healer, not with the threat that was posed, and she was certain that Jacob would agree.

Janet glanced over at the airlock which served as the entrance to the room as the transparent inner door slid aside to allow a tallish woman to enter, dressed in a suit that obviously pulled in all the wrong places. A few wisps of strawberry blonde hair drifted over her forehead, and even though she reached up to irritably brush them aside, her fingers met the faceplate and a look of chagrin passed over her face.

"Bronagh, over here!" called Janet, getting the other woman's attention.

Dr. Bronagh Lanigan approached the table, which was surrounded by a swarm of medical personnel at that precise moment, and peered at the body over Janet's shoulder, her movements hampered somewhat by the environmental suit. "Poor bastard. What happened to him?"

"Goa'uld torture." Janet responded tersely, flicking a hypodermic as best she could to get rid of the air bubble before injecting it into the IV line a nurse had set up a few moments earlier.

"No shit. He's the viral carrier I was told about, right? The Tok'ra guy?"

Janet nodded. "Right."

"Ok..." Lanigan glanced at the body and raised her voice a little so several could hear her. "I'm going to need blood and tissue samples from both host and symbiote. Salivary swabs as well..." Lanigan paused, considering. "And if it's passed by physical contact... can I get a swab of perspiration as well?"

"Unorthodox." commented Janet, to which Lanigan responded to with a shrug.

"A hunch." was all Lanigan said.

Janet raised her gaze to a mousy-looking nurse. "Nurse Atkins, you'll get what Dr. Lanigan needs once we've stabilised him." Atkins nodded and went to get the needed equipment.

"Cheers, Janet," Lanigan said. "Just have them sent down to the virology lab when you're done, ok?"

"Got it." Janet said, not looking at Lanigan as the doctor headed for the exit, her attention focused on her patient.

"Doctor Frasier..." The words spoken were weak and barely audible. Janet almost missed them through the suit and the chatter of medics and the beeping of monitors.

Janet paused in her ministrations and leaned down so she could hear him better. "Martouf. You're in the SGC, on Earth. You're going to be alright."

"Virus..." the word was a murmur. Then Martouf's eyes widened slightly. "Samantha... she... Doctor Jackson... they touched me."

Janet nodded in a reassuring manner, designed to show patients that the Doctor knew all and that they had everything under control. "I know. SG1 are being given a thorough going over by our virology team. If there's a virus in any of them, they'll find it." Martouf's eyes closed, but he obviously was doing do in pain, rather than in sleep. Janet pressed her lips together, and rested a friendly hand on his arm. "Try to rest." she instructed, glancing at a nurse, who understood the silent command and started preparing a light sedative.

A few seconds later, Martouf's eyes had closed again, this time in unconsciousness. Janet took a deep breath, and, along with her team, started working on the Tok'ra's injuries.

**

Some time later, a harried and tired-looking Janet Frasier reported to General Hammond's office to give her report on the medical situation. But the first thing she did when she arrived was to tilt her head and look at the creased piece of paper on Hammond's desk, and a smile crept onto her face. "A Pikachu?" she asked, grinning as she examined the drawing.

Hammond cleared his throat self-consciously. "A gift from my granddaughter. What's your report, Doctor?"

She handed over a file with her preliminary notes in. "Martouf's injuries were severe. His cardiopulmonary system was on the verge of collapse. I think his symbiote was the only thing keeping him alive. If he can live through the night, I think that his chances of surviving those injuries is... well, I won't say good, but better than they were before."

Hammond glanced at the files Janet had given to him. "What about this virus that SG1 mentioned?"

"You've been down to see them?" Janet asked, to which Hammond nodded in response to. "Virology's working on it. Dr. Lanigan hasn't started analysing the samples from everyone yet. She still needs to gather more data and is waiting for several files from a variety of medical institutions before she can begin."

"So in other words, Doctor," Hammond said, interrupting her as she took a breath to continue speaking. "It's a wait and see situation."

Janet sighed and nodded in agreement. "Looks that way, sir." she said finally. She stared at the Pikachu drawing. "Sir, forgive me, but, from what I've seen Cassie watching, shouldn't that thing be yellow?"

"I'm told all Kayla had was purple."

"Oh. That's nice."

"I thought so."

**

Bland would have been too pleasant a term to assign to the 'stuff' that was masquerading as food. Sam sat in the quarantine unit she had been put in and told to stay in, pushing what had probably been boiled and sterilised to a fare-thee-well at the order of the medical staff in order to extract as much of the flavour as possible around on her plate, having given up making nasty faces at it some time earlier. It didn't help that the nasty almost-medicinal smell of recycled air in the quarantine unit gave the food an even worse taste.

She sighed, unable to take her mind off the events on N'horkas. She would have been happy to forget them, and never consider them ever again. But they just kept replaying themselves over and over in her mind...

Sam knew that the memories would torment her in her sleep, but she still slumped forward onto the desk she sat at, ignoring the fact that sitting on a stool and leaning on a cold metal surface was not the best way to sleep, nor the fact that there was a cot on the other side of the room, and rested her head on her arms, closing her eyes.

She didn't know whether she actually fell asleep, but the next thing she heard, prompting her to open her eyes to slits, was the sound of the airlock door opening, and the rustling of an environmental suit as someone entered. She peered at the newcomer, recognising her after her eyes finally decided to focus. Dr. Lanigan was pushing a tray with several pieces of medical equipment on it, as well as several vials, some of which were filled with blood. One wheel of the trolley squeaked as Lanigan manhandled it into position next to the desk.

"Good morning, Major." said Lanigan, her voice hiding a trace of exhaustion.

"Morning?" Sam raised her head off her arms and looked at the clock. 4am. "Oh, I suppose it is. What are you still doing up?"

Lanigan smiled. "No rest for the wicked, or researchers pulling all nighters, I suppose." She sighed. "Someone tried to send me home, but I gave them the slip."

Sam narrowed her eyes. "And you're the one who's supposed to be taking my blood. For what, the eighth hour in a row?" Lanigan grinned. "And when can I go, I've been stuck in here for an age." She said, a slight whining note entering her voice.

"Major, we need to keep you under close observation for twenty four hours, taking continual samples for analysis. You know the routine, you've been through it often enough." Lanigan talked as she prepared the syringe for taking a blood sample. "And you should be happy. You, out of your team, are getting my undivided attention. Alright, it's divided between you and Colonel O'Neill, but he complains so much I refuse to dwell on him. The others just get sadistic nurses who work as Vampires at night." She paused, looking at Sam's rather numb expression. "That was a joke, by the way."

"I know..." Sam said. "I'm sorry. It's just..." her voice trailed off, unwilling to say more.

The Doctor paused in her preparations and looked at her curiously. "Just what?"

"I'm just... concerned."

"Concerned." Lanigan repeated, as she made Sam roll up her sleeve and deftly inserted the needle into a vein. "About...?"

"Doctor, maybe you can tell me..." Sam hesitated, then plunged ahead with what she was saying. "How's Martouf doing?"

"Martouf?" repeated Lanigan, frowning slightly as she pressed the sample container against the needle and watched as the tube filled with bright red blood. "I don't believe I know that name."

"Ah... Martouf, the Tok'ra we brought back?" Sam said.

"Oh yes." Lanigan removed the sample tube, shook it a moment and placed it on the trolley, then removed the needle and tossed it into another box labelled 'Biohazard'. "Him. Why the interest?" She picked up a chart and scrawled on it as she waited for the answer.

"I... it's personal." Sam said haltingly.

The light reflecting off Lanigan's faceplate made it impossible for Sam to discern the Doctor's expression. "No, I'm not involved with that part of the medical team. I'm with virology, so I'm in the lab most of the time." She tilted her head and her face could be seen again, a look of wry humour on her face. "Except in cases like this."

"So you've heard nothing." Sam repeated. "Nothing at all."

The other woman shook her head. "I'm sorry." she said in a soft accent. She sounded as if she'd spent a lot of time in Ireland and picked up the accent while there, never managing to shake it completely after coming back to the states.

Sam's curiosity would not be assuaged. "If you don't mind me asking... your accent... are you Irish?"

The Doctor smiled, obviously pleased to be getting off such a depressing topic. "Actually yes, I moved to this side of the pond when I was about six. Never been able to ditch the accent." She examined the vial she held carefully, then nodded. "Thanks, Major. I'll be back in about an hour for more blood samples."

Sam smiled, an expression that didn't reach her eyes, as the Doctor turned and headed for the door.

**

Twenty six hours after SG1 and their Tok'ra companions had returned through the Stargate, they gathered in the briefing room, along with General Hammond, Janet, and Lanigan, the latter dressed in labcoats that were rumpled, and, in Janet's case, had a few splatters of blood on them. SG-12 had returned through the Stargate an hour and a half earlier, with heavy casualties from a Goa'uld ambush on P4F-134, and Janet had been summoned to help. She hadn't had time to change lab-coats before coming to the meeting.

"For those of you that don't know her," Janet started off the meeting at General Hammond's nod. She gestured to the ginger haired woman sitting next to her, who wore the characteristic lab coat of all the on-base scientists. "This is Doctor Bronagh Lanigan, she's our senior virologist on staff. She's the one working on the virus itself."

"And also the one poking us full of holes taking blood, if I remember rightly." Jack said, raising an eyebrow at the Doctor, pointedly rubbing the vein on his arm.

Lanigan offered a wry smile. "You have to humour me, Colonel. It is necessary, after all."

"Yeah?" Jack said, "Who knows when I might need that pint or three of blood you've been extracting, Doctor."

Lanigan's lips quirked into a grin, quickly suppressed, especially when everyone at the table then heard Jack mutter, "Vampire."

"Alright, everyone, let's see what we know." Hammond said, bringing the meeting back on track. "Doctor Lanigan, you've taken tissue samples. Have you made any progress in learning about the virus."

"General," Lanigan said, "It takes time to conduct a detailed investigation into an unknown virus such as this. The information we have is rudimentary at best, even with the entire virology staff working-"

"Yes, or no, Doctor." interrupted Hammond.

Lanigan ground her teeth together for a brief moment before saying, "No, sir."

"Doctor, I need to know whether I can return to the Tok'ra," Jacob said in a firm tone. "The Council must be informed about this turn of events."

Lanigan inclined her head. "You don't appear to have a trace of any sort of viral infection at all. Not even everyday ailments I would expect to find in a normal Human."

"Yeah well," Jacob gave a shrug. "What can I say, Selmak's a great bug-zapper."

'I'll take that as a compliment, if a rather backhanded one.' Selmak commented mildly to her host.

"Indeed." Lanigan took a deep breath. "I checked everyone's blood samples, and I believe I've found what is the virus in both Doctor Jackson and Major Carter. However," Lanigan held up her hand to forestall Hammond. "The virus does not appear to be replicating. Or even incubating. Subsequent blood tests revealed the virus decreasing in number in both their systems. I can conclude, that it is something in a Blended individual that prompts replication of the virus, but I don't know what."

"Work on it." ordered Hammond.

Lanigan pursed her lips and glanced at her files to avoid looking at Hammond, as if to say 'what did you think I was doing?'.

"What about Martouf?" Sam asked, speaking up from her position near the end of the table.

This time it was Janet's turn to speak. "He's in serious condition. His symbiote doesn't seem to be healing his injuries properly."

"Lantesh," Larrell said, "Is probably preoccupied with fighting the virus. Secondary injuries take a back chair-"

"Back seat." interrupted Jacob. Larrell stared at him. "It's backseat, Larrell, not backchair."

"I see." said Larrell, even though she clearly did not. "The virus will take priority over his host's other injuries." she finished.

"That's as maybe, but some of these injuries are life-threatening on their own, never mind a virus." Janet took a deep breath, and started playing with her pen, turning it over in her hands, not even realising she was doing it. "We've done our best to stabilise him, but..." her voice trailed off. They all understood the implication: she couldn't guarantee anything.

Sam hesitated. "We used the Goa'uld healing device we have in our possession, but it was only minimally effective."

Hammond nodded. "I see."

Selmak took over for her host. "Not to appear ungrateful, General Hammond, nor to trivialise Martouf's condition, but it is imperative that we return to the Tok'ra as soon as possible. The Council will be most anxious for information on the situation."

Hammond nodded to the Tok'ra. "Of course, you're free to leave whenever you wish to."

Larrell glanced to Selmak. "When are we to depart?"

Selmak returned the look. "I will be returning to the homeworld as soon as possible. You, Larrell, you will remain here to liase with the Tau'ri." Selmak said, her tone brooking no argument. Larrell looked as if she were about to protest anyway, but finally nodded her head in silent acquiescence. "Monitor Martouf's condition. Undoubtedly, we, or another, will return in a short time with further instructions from the Council."

"I understand." Larrell replied.

"Teal'c," Hammond said, "You'll be responsible for Larrell while she's here?" Teal'c nodded gravely in response to this order, phrased as a question.

Selmak returned her gaze to General Hammond. "We wish to leave immediately."

"If there's nothing else?" Hammond said, looking around the table. Janet and Lanigan had been muttering to each other in low tones, falling silent when Hammond spoke, and Sam just looked miserable. No one answered him. "Alright then, dismissed."

As he headed back to his office, everyone else clambered to their feet, Lanigan scampering out of the room, while Jacob returned to control of his body and walked over to Sam.

"Sam, you're gonna be ok, right?" he asked, placing his hands on her shoulders as she stood up and faced him.

"Yeah, sure, dad. Why wouldn't I be?" Sam was aware that she was babbling a little, but didn't try and stop herself.

Jacob gave his daughter a 'who are you kidding?' look and just hugged her, neither noticing that Larrell glanced at them, grimaced, and looked away again.

**

When Jacob returned to the Tok'ra homeworld, he was greeted beneath the surface by Helen/Genra, who smiled cheerfully at him when she first saw him, but when she saw the expression on his face, her smile disappeared.

"Jacob, what's wrong?" she asked, looking concerned. "Is it something about Earth?" Helen had been a geologist on Earth, until her cancer had necessitated a drastic cure. At the same time, the Tok'ra had come to Earth looking for a new host for Genra. Over time, Jacob had learnt that she associated SG1 with her survival, and so was always very worried about their status.

Selmak said, 'Something psychological methinks.'

Jacob sent:
{amusement}

Jacob sighed. "It's a long story, Helen. Can you tell me where the Council are?"

"I think they're meeting in the chambers." Helen said, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "I think they left orders to have you sent straight to them, I don't know."

Selmak sent:
{curiosity}

Selmak asked, 'Is that what I think it is on her wrist?'

Jacob caught Helen's hand as she started to lower it to her side and glanced at the brightly coloured wristband. "This is new."

Helen grinned. "Yeah, Zeb finally decided that I was progressed far enough along with my training to be promoted to student." She rolled her eyes expressively. "Go figure."

'Zeboary would not be happy to hear herself referred to as Zeb.' Selmak said.

'Zeboary is never happy.'

"Now, now." Jacob said, letting go of her arm. "It takes decades sometimes to be promoted to a high rank in a chosen field."

Helen rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah. I know. For people that live for centuries, what's a decade or two between friends. It's just..." Frustration appeared for a few moments on her face. "I was a geologist. Senior geologist. And now I'm saying I don't have the basic knowledge necessary for tunnel engineering. That I need to be more adept at making split-second assessments of sub-surface geological formation, and whether it's suitable for tunnelling..." Helen sighed, stopping herself by holding up her hands. "Sorry." she apologised. "You'd best get to the council. I have stuff to study."

"Alright, I'll talk to you later and tell you about what's going on." Jacob promised.

Selmak said, 'You're feeling paternal.'

Jacob sent:
{image: tongue sticking out like a child}

Selmak chuckled.

"Sure thing," responded Helen, and headed in the opposite direction to the Council Chambers, which Jacob and Selmak headed to next.

They found all seven members of the current council, standing around the large crystalline table in the centre of the room, having a discussion on a minor biological warfare agent in use on Tiire, courtesy of the Goa'uld Nekhebet, which quickly trailed off as the eighth of their number entered the chamber.

Garshaw smiled at the sight of her friend. "Ah, Jacob, Selmak, greetings."

"Took your time." Itzak said mischievously, before his symbiote took over. "Greetings also, Jacob." Zaid said gravely.

There was murmured greetings from the others which blended together into a low level mutter in Jacob's ears.

"Now that you are here," Garshaw said, as Falak/Eannda handed over a datapad of what had thus far been decided to Jacob. "Please give us your account on the success," Garshaw paused, "Or failure, of the mission with the Tau'ri."

Jacob nodded and quickly launched into a terse account of events, the entire council listening carefully, and, Selmak and he could tell, making mental notes of everything that he told them, recording it all to debate over later, when the urgency of the event was ended.

"A mixed success." noted Eannda. "Unfortunate."

"This virus of Ate's," Garshaw's expression was intense. "Did she have time to pass it to other Goa'uld?"

Jacob shook his head. "I don't believe so, no."

Olayinka, the senior Healer among the Tok'ra, leaned forward, resting her hands on her surface of the table. "This virus that affects symbiotes. What can you tell me about it? What have the Tau'ri learned?"

Jacob relinquished to Selmak's control, allowing the more educated of the two of them speak for them on this subject. "Very little. From what we were able to learn before we left, they /have/ isolated the pathogen. However, that is all they have managed to learn."

"What about anti-viral agents?" Olayinka asked, the voice distortions unable to hide the inappropriate excitement she felt about such a discovery.

Selmak sent:
{derogatory}

'Science first and always first.' Selmak said. 'Scientists are so predictable.'

"Regrettably, the Tau'ri are deficient in that area of medical research." Selmak said. "While they have managed to develop anti-bacteria agents, controlling viruses is beyond them."

"They require assistance, then, in order to develop this area they lack?" Zaid enquired.

Selmak nodded slowly. "Perhaps we should consider sending a Healer to the Tau'ri to assist them." she said.

"Inaccurate terminology," noted Breia/Dalir, from where she stood, slightly apart from the others in her section of the table, datapads neatly stacked and piled in front of her, the hallmark, in Jacob's opinion of-

'An anally retentive personality?' Selmak asked.

Jacob replied, 'I wasn't quite going to put it like that.'

Selmak stifled the urge to sigh. Of all the hosts she had encountered, Breia was the most infuriating. Her colony of Humanity had had rigid social rules, enforced by the fact that their population had exploded on a tiny island, and the Goa'uld had never let them develop ships that would have allowed them to expand. An inflexible mindset had followed around. Breia herself had been designated R-12462 before Dalir had objected strongly to having a host who was referred to by a number. She had named Breia after one of her previous host's nieces. "What do you mean?" Selmak asked, ignoring Jacob's dramatic sigh.

"They. Specify." Breia said, narrowing her eyes. "SG-1 and the scout, Larrell, or the Tau'ri species."

Chavi tilted her head. "I would class that as a linguistic inaccuracy, not a terminology one. And it is not an inaccuracy, merely ambiguity. Garshaw used 'them' as an anaphoric reference."

"Language is inaccurate." Breia said with a glower. "The usage of the word 'Tau'ri' can refer to the planet or the people, therefore my query was valid."

Several council members exchanged weary glances. This was an old argument on Breia's part.

"Pedant." Chavi said, without ire.

Breia frowned, and Selmak interjected, before she could say anything, "I refer to the Tau'ri's Stargate Command medical staff."

"The Tau'ri are technologically primitive." Breia said, disapproval firmly rooted in her voice.

Garshaw chose that moment to speak. "Breia, you would do well not to judge our allies too harshly. After all, did they not destroy Ra, who we had sought to depose of for millennia? And they managed to accomplish this only a short period of time after discovering their Chaapa'ai. How many of our enemies have they killed?"

Breia's eyes turned to Garshaw, and there was no anger there, only a slight disagreement and a cold logic. Jacob commented to Selmak that Breia always unnerved him with that look. She resembled an automaton. Selmak gently reminded her host that that was what she had essentially been before joining the Tok'ra.

Jacob sent:
{dismissal of thought}

Selmak returned:
{amusement}

'Let me have control.' Jacob said, switching to a mental 'voice'.

Selmak sent:
{compliance}

Breia said, "That they managed to perform these deeds is not under examination. However it is their methods I object to. They are still young."

Zaid's eyes flashed dimly, barely seen in the bright light of the Council Chambers. "Would you not classify your own people as young if you follow the same system, Breia? Your society was mired in fifth level technological development. The rigid codes your people developed to live with one another stifled creativity and advancement. By your standards, they are much 'older' than you were."

"You is subjective." Breia stated flatly. "I assume you do not mean myself, but my race."

Selmak commented to Jacob, 'This would be easier in French.'

Jacob sent:
{query}

Selmak smiled mentally. 'Tu? Vous?'

'Ah.' Jacob replied.

"Our technological development is no longer relevant." Breia told Zaid, eyeing him. "My race are dead. They were killed during the Goa'uld attack on our island."

"You need not remind us." Olayinka said, raising her hand and gesturing gracefully. "Many of the hosts here have suffered similar losses."

Breia's head dipped slightly in tacit consent to Olayinka's request that she speak no further of their dead. To Breia's mindset, death merely freed up more space for the living. As such, she had not really grieved for her planet or people. Her brown hair flopped over her eye, and Jacob half expected her to reach up and brush it out of her face, but the 'automaton' idea was enforced when she simply left it there.

Selmak said, 'She looks odd like that.'

Chavi seemed to agree, reaching over and patting her colleague's hair into place behind her ear. Breia blinked, but otherwise didn't respond. Chavi just smiled to herself and sighed.

"You are too quick to judge." Falak said to Breia.

"Is she truly?" Firyal asked of the group, drawing all eyes towards him. Unlike Aidan, his host, Firyal was against the whole of idea of the alliance with the Tau'ri, and had been one of the stronger opponents when the Tau'ri had first contacted them. "The Tau'ri /are/ primitive by our standard, at eighth level technological development-"

"Actually," Mitena had taken over for Chavi, her host, and the anthropologist was adding her opinion to the discussion. "Upon the commencement of frequent usage of the Chaapa'ai by the Tau'ri, and technological advancements brought about by their exploration of the galaxy-"

"Many of which were made by Sam." Jacob said, reminding all present that he /was/ of the Tau'ri, and his daughter was still there, thank you very much.

"Indeed." Mitena agreed. "Major Carter's progression in her chosen scientific field has outstripped standard expectations of her race. Ahead of her time, I believe is the Tau'ri phrase." she said, giving Jacob a sidelong look. Jacob didn't bother trying not to look embarrassed.

"No doubt in part due to Jolinar's influence." Firyal said, pessimistically.

"Jolinar was not a scientist." Zaid commented, bringing nods of agreement from many of the Councillors. Jolinar's technological expertise had been more limited to weapons, rather than pure science.

Breia said, "It cannot be discounted."

"If I may finish my commentary?" Mitena asked, smiling slightly. "With these advances, I believe that the Tau'ri are closer to a ninth level technological world, however, their societal and economic structure remains mired at sixth level, with third level military influences."

"A miracle that they ever discovered how to use the Chaapa'ai." Garshaw noted.

"But, they did." Olayinka said.

Jacob said nothing.

"We are straying from the original point of this discussion." Garshaw said, eyeing Breia, who was stopped from saying anything by Dalir, who took over and consciously relaxed her host's stance, smiling that she would not interrupt further. "I believe we were attempting to decide whether to send a Healer to the Tau'ri to assist them. Olayinka?"

The Healer tossed her pure white hair over her shoulder, and Selmak noted that several of the male Councillor's watched her moves with great attention. Selmak was almost laughing 'out loud' as she watched them craning their necks to look at the tall woman, nearly seven feet tall, by Tau'ri standards.

Selmak sent:
{amusement. men.}

"Hanne and I believe that there is little point in sending a Healer to the Tau'ri. As noted by Jacob and Selmak from their last conference with the Tau'ri on current matters, Samantha Carter retains the ability to control the healing device." She paused, thinking carefully. "She will have used it to heal Martouf's worse injuries."

"She did." Jacob interrupted.

Olayinka bowed her head, continuing smoothly as if Jacob's sentence had been anticipated. "And, as you are aware, we can offer very little to the Tau'ri in the area of viral research." Olayinka had the grace to look embarrassed. "After all, it is not an area that is of particular concern to us."

"And to send someone to the Tau'ri would be to court disaster." Firyal said with a frown. "Larrell and Aela may have been infected since Jacob and Selmak left them on the Tau'ri. To send another Tok'ra there..." he trailed off, not needing to finish his sentence.

"Firyal's point is accepted." Garshaw said. "While I do not challenge the wisdom of leaving behind a representative to the Tau'ri-"

"There were other reasons for my requesting that Larrell remained with the Tau'ri, Garshaw." Jacob said.

Garshaw paused, tilting her head, and clasped her hands in front of her midsection in a gesture that had come to be known as exclusively Garshaw's, as all her hosts proceeded to do the same after being Blended. "Then share them with us."

Selmak sent:
{hesitance}

Jacob replied:
{concurrence}

"We require more time to contemplate," Jacob said. "Before we can offer a proper argument."

"Accepted." Garshaw responded.

'When did I get so flowery with my language, Sel?'

Selmak definitely laughed this time. 'That's my influence, my dear Jacob. Can't have a host of mine talking like a Tau'ri at the Council table.' Jacob nearly sniggered out loud. Selmak had affected a mid-western accent for her last sentence. 'I /am/ after all, the oldest, wisest, and an important leader for our cause.'

'Martouf said that, didn't he? When he thought you and Sarouche were unconscious.'

Selmak sent:
{evil amusement}

Selmak said, 'He'd die if he knew I'd actually said that. He'd be convinced I'd never stop teasing him.'

'He had an idea after I said that stuff to George on Earth, in the Gateroom.'

'True.'

'I admire your restraint.'

Selmak sent:
{image: cartoon of a symbiote struggling under restraints}

"I have a question, for Breia." Jacob said.

Dalir withdrew in favour of her host; Breia actually showed surprise that someone wanted information from her, and wanted to ask her a question about it before she volunteered the information. She was always so careful to keep the Council informed on her knowledge. "Of course, you may ask." she said, curiosity barely detectable in her voice.

"Do we have any advanced scouts or infiltrators located in the Gammak sector?"

The Tok'ra responsible for the co-ordination of intelligence reports, a task she shared with Itzak/Zaid, blinked, searching her memory. "No, not to my knowledge." She glanced to Zaid, who shook his head.

"No, we have none." he concurred.

"Why do you enquire?" asked Eannda.

Jacob shook his head, smiling slightly to disperse to the curiosity of the Councillors. "No reason you need to concern yourself with." he said.

"We will not resolve this issue immediately." Garshaw said. "At tomorrow's Council session, it will become our top priority. However, Martouf is no longer under Goa'uld control, and that is all that concerned my thoughts for the moment." There were murmurs of agreement. "I believe we were about to begins deliberations for selecting our ninth."

The Council had been without a ninth member since Cordesh's betrayal. For a while, there had only been seven of them, with Erinye's removal from her Councillor position following the death of her symbiote at Cordesh's hands, and then Chavi/Mitena had been promoted.

"I maintain that Zeboary and Fenuz should be given priority consideration." Aidan said, taking over from his symbiote.

"We are in agreement." Olayinka said, speaking for herself and her host. "The senior Tunnel Engineer should have a seat on the council."

Jacob and Selmak, who had no opinion on this matter, took a mental step back, listening with half an ear to the deliberations, and began quietly conferring with one another concerning their growing suspicions.

**

The ground felt slightly warm underneath her back, and the grass itself seemed to hum. The cloud floating through the crystal sky looked like pulled cotton candy, and under a large oak tree, Teal'c and SG2 played hopscotch with a grenade.

'What this place really could use...' Sam thought idly, as she laced her fingers behind her hand as she lay on the grass in the infinitely sized park, 'Is one less sun.' Three were just too many.

"Sam!" Cassandra ran up to her and shook her shoulders. "Come on, Sam, get up!"

Sam groaned. "Cass! Just five more minutes." She tried to shake off the girls hands but it didn't work.

Cassie put her hands on her hips and stamped her foot irritably on the ground. "Samantha Carter!" she snapped. "Are you going to sleep /all/ night!"

Sam sat up and glowered. "What are you talking about? Of course I'm not!"

"Come on!" Cassie grabbed Sam's hand and pulled her to her feet. Sam, ever so reluctant to leave the warm grass behind, clambered to her feet and was jerked along behind the young girl. She went along with the child until Cass stopped and crouched in the grass, picking something up.

She turned and smiled at Sam. "Isn't it pretty?" She held a complete daisy chain in her hands. "I worked very hard at it." Cassie stood on tiptoes and put the chain around Sam's neck, and while the woman was still half-crouched to her, gave Sam a peck on the cheek and danced away to join SG2.

Sam watched her go, then started walked across the park towards the lake which dominated most of its west side. On the little sandy shore of the lake, Colonels Makepeace and Maybourne were playing a game of Volleyball against Jack and Daniel. Apophis stood slightly to one side wearing a pair of dark sunglasses, keeping score.

"Who do you think will win?" asked Martouf as he walked beside her.

Sam considered. "Makepeace and Maybourne." she answered after a moment of thought.

Martouf gave her a sidelong look. "Why do you say that?"

"Maybourne cheats."

"Fair enough." Martouf nodded. "Nice flowers." he commented.

"I thought so." said Sam, automatically reaching up to finger the dead and decaying blooms hung around her neck.

Elsewhere in the park, Ra and Hathor played a game of cards with Garshaw and Selmak. Ra was winning.

'That's odd.' Sam thought. 'I never saw Ra.'

"That'd be me." said a shapeless form, who took Martouf's place at her side. When she didn't look carefully enough, Sam could have sworn she could make out a tall blonde figure.

"This is not real." Sam stated firmly as she realised who the presence was.

"Reality, unreality, subreality, what's the difference?" Jolinar asked.

"It's not real." repeated Sam.

"This is fiction, and fiction is as real as you make it." Jolinar hesitated. "But as you are a woman of science, perhaps you would prefer the term metaphysical construct."

Sam rolled her eyes, dropping to the grass and crossing her legs, leaning backwards on her hands. The form hovered next to her as she sighed. "So I'm dreaming."

"In so many words." Jolinar said. "Yes."

"Great." Sam said. "I'd like to wake up now."

Jolinar's amusement was a sort of yellow glow that suffused the local area, lighting up the landscape. "But reality's so unpleasant, isn't it?"

Sam's neck hurt, she closed her eyes briefly to tilt her head to try and ease the crick in her bones, and when she reopened her eyes and tried to raise her head from where she had fallen asleep, leaning on the side of Martouf's bed in the ICU, she hit her head on the inside of her containment suit.

Janet glanced down at her. "Oh, you're awake." She said, as if she'd been patiently waiting for it to happen for a while, and pressed a syringe of green fluid into the IV line.

Sam grunted slightly, and pushed herself up off the metal barriers on the sides of the bed, reaching up to wipe her eyes, but ending up bashing her fingers on the faceplate of the suit. "How long...?"

"About three minutes." Janet replied, anticipating her friend's question.

"Oh." Sam said, slightly puzzled. "It seemed longer."

She'd come to the ICU shortly after her father had gone back through the Gate. Everyone who went to the ICU now had to be clothed in full quarantine suits, against the possibility of infection. In theory, only medical personnel were allowed anywhere near the unit, but Janet had made an exception in Sam's case and had permitted her to come. Sam had proceeded to spend nearly an hour sitting by Martouf's bedside, waiting to see if he would come around, so far, nothing.

"So," Sam asked, straightening on the uncomfortable stool and twisting in place. She could hear her bones clicking, but somehow, that never bothered her like it seemed to other people. "How is he?"

Janet picked up the chart from the side of the bed, not answering. She glanced at the vitals and scrawled them down onto the chart in what appeared, to Sam, to be illegible scrawl. "We're keeping him heavily sedated." she finally said, fiddling with the pen for a few moments longer than was necessary before replacing the clipboard in its designated position. She took a deep breath. "You know, he's so heavily doped up right now, I'd be extremely surprised if he could even remember his mother's name."

Sam blinked and glanced down at the figure who seemed somehow smaller than he normally did in the medical bed, surrounded by tubes and instruments that made the area seem like some mad scientist's favourite torture chamber, rather than an intensive care unit. "So he can't hear us?"

Janet shrugged, a gesture that was lost in the plastic suit. "I wouldn't be so sure. Some say that even people in the deepest of coma's can still hear people." She paused a long time, watching Sam as she bent over the Tok'ra.

'Poor woman', she thought. After hearing Sam's admission of some pretty powerful feelings for Martouf, she couldn't help but feel as if it was some personal favour to Sam to do everything in her power to save him. Not, she reminded herself, that she wouldn't do the same for every single other patient in her care. But this seemed... more important somehow. Personal.

"They say hearing's the last to go." she finally commented, more to break the long silence than to offer anything constructive.

"And the first to return."

Janet was so startled by the sudden croaking voice that she almost fell over, before remembering that the Chief Medical Officer falling over in the lab would do neither wonders for people's opinion of her competence, nor her dignity. Sam's eyes suddenly lit up, and her hand snaked over the metal bars at the side of the cot to rest on Martouf's left forearm.

"Martouf?" she whispered, a slight smile on her face.

"Marushna." was the whispered, barely audible word.

"What the..." Janet looked confused for a moment, then comprehension and chagrin warred for dominance on her face. "Of course. Lantesh is still doing his job. On the wrong things it seems. Should have realised that." She murmured the last, embarrassed that such an obvious matter would have been forgotten about. Had she not been present in the Gateroom when sedative enough to, in her own words, 'knock out an elephant' had failed to have much effect on Jolinar?

"Lantesh... apologises." Martouf said with a slight smile.

"How long have you been conscious?" Janet asked, taking the radial pulse from his wrist with great care, staring at her watch. She listened with only half an ear, her thoughts more on his vitals. The pulse rate was displayed on the monitor, but Janet had sometimes found that taking a heart rate herself was reassuring. She disliked relying /too/ much on all the wonderful technology available.

"For a few moments. Since you mentioned my mother."

Sam leaned forward as Janet dropped Martouf's wrist, laying it gently on his stomach. It had only just been healed of a fracture in the metacarpals of the wrist, and even though the Goa'uld device was generally infallible, Janet wasn't going to tempt fate.

"What's Marushna?" Sam asked Martouf, curious.

Martouf peeked open his eyes to slits and glanced at her, before closing them again, too tired to keep his attention on her. "My mother's name." he said after a moment, swallowing to try and make his voice clearer. "I watched her die."

Janet swallowed and quietly moved away; enough so that Sam and Martouf could ignore her, but close enough that she could hear everything said.

Sam was struck dumb for a moment. "Um..."

"I was only young." He continued, as if he wasn't listening to her any more. "She'd been assigned to infiltrate the court of the Goa'uld who was occupying our homeworld. They found her, tortured her, left her to die on the plains."

Sam was silent, listening with sympathy. "Was this when you were with the Tok'ra?" she asked.

"No." Martouf's head shook microscopically. "It was about seven years before then."

Sam's jaw dropped slightly, before she remembered her manners and closed her mouth. Not that it made much difference, between the drugs, her environmental suit, and the virus, it was hard to imagine that he could feel her touch, never mind see her face. "You fought the Goa'uld for seven years /before/ the Tok'ra?"

"Longer. Years longer." was the almost idle response. "We got to her a day or so before she died. She was talking to me right up to the end. I hated the Goa'uld after that even more than I did before."

Janet could see tears welling up in Sam's eyes. "Martouf, I'm so sorry."

Puzzlement crossed his face and her opened his eyes fully to look at her. His eyes were blank as he searched her face. "I'm sorry," he said after a moment. "But I don't think I know you."

Sam's eyes widened, and she felt tears spilling down her cheeks. She looked to Janet, who stared back with a panic-stricken expression on her own face. Sam shook her head.

"Martouf... I'm Samantha. I've known you for nearly two years..."

Martouf's confused expression remained.

'Oh my god...' Janet thought. 'It's affecting his memory. Bronagh's got to know about this...'

"I'm calling neuro." Janet said in an undertone, almost to herself. She tapped a nurse on a shoulder as the woman passed with a hypodermic filled with broad-spectrum anti-biotic passed. "Sharon, get Bronagh to meet me in neuro in ten minutes."

Sharon nodded, handing the hypodermic to Janet and headed for the airlock. The Doctor turned back to the table, saw the pained expression on Sam's face, and quickly turned away again, injecting the anti-biotic into an IV, then heading for the airlock herself.

**

Teal'c had taken his obligation to guard the Tok'ra woman (he knew that it was guard duty, and that it was also his task to quietly listen and find out as much information as he could from her) very seriously. So far, she hadn't really been able to go anywhere, but she had expressed a desire, at one point, to see the surface of the Tau'ri. Since the virus that had infected Martouf had been contained, the base was not under lockdown, so General Hammond had given his permission to allow Larrell free reign, within the SGC boundaries, on the mountain. Accompanied, of course, at all times by Teal'c.

Teal'c realised, with some surprise, that it was night on the Tau'ri world. He hadn't been paying as much attention to the passage of time as he should have been. Larrell didn't seem to mind; apparently Tok'ra could see perfectly well in the dark, and the light from the Tau'ri's single moon lit up enough of the landscape to see by. In Teal'c's opinion, three moons would have been much better, but, obviously, he had no say in how many natural satellites a planet had. And he had to admit, he /had/ grown accustomed to the moon the Tau'ri called Luna.

Larrell's attention was not on the moon, however, it was on the stellar vista that could be seen through the leaves of the trees. "Fascinating." he heard her mutter at one point, after she had insisted on stopping and craning her neck until her face was pointing towards the sky.

"I beg your pardon?" he said, bringing her attention back to Earth.

"It suddenly occurred to me." Larrell said, folding her arms and shivering slightly. Apparently the beige uniforms the Tok'ra wore were not entirely heat retentive. Understandable. They were designed with a desert environment in mind. "The stars, as they are arranged in the Tau'ri sky... several of the configurations seem to resemble glyphs on the Chaapa'ai." She blinked. "I am no starseeker," she said, turning her eyes towards the stars again. "But such configurations would only be seen from Earth."

Teal'c nodded gravely, having an idea of where the Tok'ra was going with this. "That is my understanding also. Certainly there are no constellations resembling glyphs on Chulak."

"Indeed," Larrell agreed, tilted her head and narrowing her eyes. "So why would the original Gatebuilders, whoever they were, chose to model their co-ordinate system on stellar 'constellations'," she glanced at Teal'c to make sure she was using the correct term. When she didn't get a response, she seemed to take that as an affirmation of the correct usage. "Which can only be seen from the Tau'ri?"

"I do not know." admitted Teal'c, following her gaze for a brief moment, before lowering his head. "Perhaps the Ancients deliberately sought to confuse younger races."

"Perhaps it's someone's idea of an interstellar practical joke." Larrell said.

"Perhaps." Teal'c said after a moment.

Larrell brought her focus back to ground level. "Perhaps you should ask the Asgard, hmm?" she said, a semi-mischievous, semi-serious glint in her eye. Teal'c wasn't quite sure what to make of that expression.

"The temperature is dropping rapidly." he told her. "And neither of us is adequately clothed to withstand the conditions. I suggest we return to the SGC."

Larrell nodded her assent and the two of them started down the carefully trodden path they had followed to get to the small break in the trees in the first place. SGC personnel often walked the mountain during breaks and lunches, to have a reprieve from the near claustrophobia induced by working inside a mountain, with millions of tonnes of granite hanging over their heads. The path was also used by the security patrols, one of which passed the pair on their return journey.

Larrell had just nodded her greeting to the guards and carefully avoided their dogs, when she suddenly said, "Teal'c, may I ask you a question? And please do not take the subject matter personally in any way? I wish only to know your opinion on the matter."

Teal'c glanced at her, puzzled, but nodded. "Go ahead."

Larrell was silent for a long time. Such a long time, in fact, that Teal'c began to wonder whether she had forgotten that she wished to ask him a question. He was about to prompt her when he heard her intake of breath in preparation to speak.

"Do you truly believe that the people of the Tau'ri can overcome the Goa'uld system lords?"

It hadn't been a question that Teal'c had been expecting to come from a Tok'ra, but he nevertheless answer with certainty and speed, "I do."

"Hmm..." was the response to that. He turned his head to look at her and saw her eyes narrow, never lifting her gaze from the trail though. Did she not wish to look at him as she continued this trail of thought? "The odds are not in their favour."

"The evil that the Goa'uld have done in the past will not go unpunished." Teal'c said, returning his attention to the path. "They will be defeated."

"Are not good and evil merely moral standards dictated by society?" Larrell asked, her voice oddly light. "Or by an individual?"

She realised Teal'c was staring at her in puzzlement. "My apologies," she said with a serene smile. "I was merely playing... what is the Tau'ri term...? Devil's advocate." She gestured to the forest around them. "I'm not a person who spends a great deal of time simply... walking out of doors. My mind tends to wander, it seems."

"Of course." responded Teal'c.

Larrell conducted the rest of the trip back to the entrance to Cheyenne mountain in silence.

**

"OK," Doctor Mark Meyer, the neuro-specialist on base, finished tapping in a sequence on his computer and sat back in his chair, folding his arms as he did so. Lanigan and Janet simultaneously leant slightly over his shoulders to peer at the screen themselves. "This is the most recent, and may I add, /only/, fMRI scan of your Tok'ra patient." Meyer peered at both of them. "Why didn't you send him down before?"

Lanigan coughed self-consciously. "It didn't seem necessary." she said, sounding as if she viewed this latest development as her fault. "I've never seen a virus that attacks neurological functions." She shook her head. "Days like this, I wish I'd taken my mum's advice, and become a lawyer. What'cha got, Mark?"

"Well," Meyer tapped the highlighted areas of the screen, of which there were several. "I can tell you that according to this, your patient's neurones have started misfiring. Which might actually explain the memory loss..." He glanced up at the two women to make sure they were still with him, then continued. "The neurotransmitters aren't actually being released in a lot of cases, while they are released unnecessarily in others."

"So," Janet said, interrupting him. It had been a long time since she'd brushed up on the neurosciences, and she wanted to make sure she understood every word of this perfectly. "Nerves which are not meant to be triggered are, and those that are, aren't?"

"Basically." Meyer said, bobbing his head sharply. It made him look, in Janet's opinion, something akin to a parakeet. "So when he looks at Major Carter, the nerves that should retrieve her face and its associations from his memory aren't working, while others are activated and he remembers other events, such as... what was it you said...?"

"His mother's death." Janet said, shuddering slightly. Martouf's tone as he'd briefly outlined the circumstances of his parent's demise had been dull, almost dead. She'd heard the same tone in Cassie's voice, whenever she spoke of Hanka. It wasn't often that the girl did so; the memories were still too fresh and painful. But when she did, it was like if she allowed herself to feel any emotion, allowed any inflection into her voice, she'd lose control over herself. Janet couldn't ever remember Cassie crying, sobbing her heart out, over the death of her entire planet. Maybe her adoptive daughter still hadn't quite come to terms with it...

Lanigan's voice brought her back to the present. "I don't suppose you've got any ideas about how a virus could cause this?" Her voice was only half flippant; she was willing to accept any source of inspiration by that point. Janet was disheartened by that. It showed how little progress Bronagh was making.

Meyer shrugged. "Got me. By attacking the nerve cells? Sorry, Bron, that's your department."

Lanigan hmphed softly and straightened, tugging on her labcoat. "Well, that's what they tell me." she said.

"You should get some rest." she told her colleague, as Lanigan rubbed her eyes, stifling a yawn.

"I don't think so." Lanigan responded. "Just point me in the direction of a fresh pot of hot coffee, then tape the mug to my hand and return me to the lab."

Janet sighed. How many times had she had this conversation with Daniel? "Bronagh, caffeine and those stimulants I /know/ you've been taking - don't give me that Little-Miss-Innocent expression." Bronagh managed to give Janet a weak smile. "They're no substitute for rest."

Lanigan sighed. "I know, Janet, I know. It's just... I'm too tired to sleep, y'know?"

"Well, don't think you're going to have a nap in here!" Meyer said. "You'd drool all over the nice new keyboards." He gestured around the neuroscience's computer lab, which had recently been outfitted with more modern equipment.

"For your information," Lanigan started to say. "I most emphatically do /not/ drool. That's a vicious rumour spread by former lovers."

"Uh-huh." Meyer didn't sound convinced.

"Come on," Janet tugged on Lanigan's lab coat, steering the Doctor in the direction of the door, and giving her a push to get her moving. Lanigan moved unprotestingly. "I'll take you to your quarters and give you six hours to get some rest."

"OK..." Lanigan wearily agreed. "But you have to do the same. I know you've been working on that Tok'ra, practically non-stop." Lanigan smiled at Janet and winked. "Cat napping in your office is no substitute for real rest, y'know."

Janet grinned, and a little part of her mind knew that Lanigan was right. "Ok ok, but I'll only give myself four hours. I /have/ been napping, after all."

Lanigan rolled her eyes. "Deal." They were approaching the medical quarters, located near the labs, for those weary scientists who were pulling all nighters for research projects. She sighed. "Janet, if I could just decipher the virus' replication mechanism, I know I could crack it. But all the samples we have in the lab are just inert. They won't attack cells, they won't replicate. And yet, in a living Blended individual, they're tearing the body's systems apart!" Lanigan's voice was raising, and Janet knew the Doctor would never get any sleep in her state.

"Maybe you should sleep on it." Janet suggested. They were approaching the medical quarters. "Now, no more than six hours, y'hear me?" Lanigan said, wagging her finger at the CMO.

Janet grinned. "Of course."

**

"Three is all, all are three. Host, Symbiote, Blended. Three." Zeboary passed her transparent mug of hot red liquid to her left hand and ticked off the numbers on her right. "Primary, secondary, tertiary. Three threes are nine."

The current occupants of the Tunnel Engineer's lounge stared in confusion at her. Helen, sitting on the floor, idly dipping her fingertips into the warm water of the reflecting pool inset into the floor in the centre of room, tilting her head, hands still for a moment.

"That doesn't really answer my question." she pointed out.

Zeboary looked heaven-ward, offering a free supplication to the deities of her people. She'd need some Goddess-given strength to get through the next few minutes, she could just feel it.

Fenuz sent:
{derogatory: religion}

Zeboary replied:
{amusement}

She was sitting in the lounge that the Tok'ra Tunnel Engineers frequented whenever they were not busy with their work. Generally, after the initial construction of a facility, engineers were rarely needed in that capacity again, since the Tok'ra only built as needed. As such, the Engineer's lounge was larger than most, and it was almost more comfortable. There were actually some cushions scattered around the room.

It was roughly oval shaped, with two entrances opposite one another on the longer sides, and had a similarly shaped reflecting pool inset into the floor, rather than standing above on tables. There were few chairs, viewed as far too uncomfortable, but there were several long tables, and crystalline extrusions used as stools, available for engineers who were working or studying in a relaxing environment. The rest of the 'seating' consisted of a cushions and padding scattered all over the floor on which Engineers lounged, some sitting around a few low tables that only came up to a person's knee when they stood. The most people, though, were gathered around the pool, which picked up the heat from the geothermal crystals embedded in the floor, and became warmed.

Helen had been absently flicking the water and watching the ripples it made as the droplets hit the surface, when she had suddenly said, "I heard you're tipped to be next on the Council." to Zeboary. "Why are there nine members of the Council?" to which Zeboary had responded to with a rather cryptic answer.

"It does answer it," Zeboary maintained, setting her face into her 'I'm a Senior, so don't mess with me' expression.

"Um... actually..." Zoorna, a rather elfin looking young woman with the appropriately cute curls dangling around her face (Zeboary, who couldn't get her dull brown hair to even appear as if there was any life in it, was intensely jealous of that hair, not that Fenuz would ever let her show it), cleared her throat. "I didn't understand a word of that either."

"I did." Saleil said, looking superior.

Tuya/Sanan, the symbiote in charge, said, "You would."

Zeboary narrowed her eyes, and set her mug of tea on the floor next to her and crossed her legs, resting her elbows on her knees, assuming her 'lecture' position. She had a catalogue of such expressions and positions. "How many others here," she said, sweeping the room with a gaze, looking at the Engineers who had turned away from their own conversations to listen to the Senior, "Also do not know the reason for the number of Councillors?" She tilted her head. "Show of hands?"

Fenuz sent:
{amusement}

Fenuz said, 'It would be easier to count those whose hands are not raised.'

Zeboary waved a hand, gesturing for people to lower their hands. "Very well. My suggestion is that you all listen closely, as I will say this once only."

She took a deep breath and gestured to Helen. "You wished to know the reason for the nine. There are three triads in the Council. Primary, secondary, tertiary. Garshaw is first in Primary. Selmak is second in Primary. Cordesh was third, but is no longer. Olayinka was first in Secondary, but is now third in Primary."

Zeboary noted Zoorna's fingers fluttering relentlessly and turned her attention to the woman. "What is it?"

"You still make little sense," Zoorna reminded her. "Alith grows most impatient."

"Alith should know this." Zeboary said, irritation in her voice. "And while I think of it, all of you should know this."

"We have better things," Rali said, appearing bored. "To do that work out the significance of Council members. So, the question is more, how do you know?"

Saleil said, with amusement, "That should be obvious, Rali dear. You learn a great many things while mated to an anthropologist."

Zeboary sent:
{embarrassment}

Fenuz said, 'You're blushing.'

"For your bettered knowledge," Zeboary said, raising her chin slightly. "It was in fact Mitena's previous host, Helakui, who introduced me to this information." A smile tugged at her lips. "He was quite a... studious... individual."

There were several knowing chuckles from some of the Engineers, before they managed to suppress them, knowing that if Fenuz found out their names, she would hunt them down later.

"Primary, secondary..." Zoorna was obviously still relaying for Alith. "It makes little sense."

Zeboary sighed and held up nine fingers. "There are nine on the Council. Three threes. Three triads. Primary is Garshaw, Selmak and Olayinka." She pulled down a finger for each name she reeled off. "Secondary is Dalir, Eannda, and Zaid. Tertiary is incomplete. Tertiary is Firyal and Mitena."

"Right," Helen said, pulling her hand out of the water and wiping it off on her skirt. "So, three triads. Three ranks. Primary, secondary, tertiary. Why?"

"Tertiary is concerned with minutia of our group. Secondary with intelligence and resources. Primary is concerned with overall status of the Tok'ra and our fight." Zeboary shrugged. "Arbitrary designated functions. Apart from Primary. That is a constant. Garshaw is Prime. Dalir and Firyal are Prime. But only within their triads. Garshaw is Prime over all."

"Of course." Saleil said, apparently having lost patience with her explanation. "She's the leader of the council. This is not in dispute."

"It is not." Zeboary agreed.

There was a loud shriek, that caused several people to jump, as Zoorna leapt several meters (apparently in defiance of gravity) and knocked into Zeboary, who lashed out with an arm to stop herself from falling over completely, but wound up knocking her mug of tea into the reflecting pool.

"I've got it." Zeboary said with tiredly, pushing her sleeve up her arm as far as it would and leaning forward to fish around in the pool for her mug.

Saleil was giving the new arrival a nasty look. Niauli had seen fit to startle Zoorna into relinquishing to her symbiote, who was glaring belligerently at Niauli/Yshyn, and breathing heavily. "Do you always have to do that?" he asked her.

Niauli shrugged elegantly. "I have to keep your reflexes up to standard through some method." the host said, "And I get so little other enjoyment in my life."

"Why don't you just go and sleep with someone?" Helen asked, grinning slightly. "That'd keep you away from us."

"Who says she's not?" Zeboary said, her fingers finding the mug at the bottom of the pool and closing around it. She lifted it out of the liquid and frowned. The warm water had turned a sort of pink colour.

Fenuz sent:
{ooooohhhh}

Zeboary replied:
{exasperation}

Zeboary said to her symbiote, 'Don't be facetious.'

Fenuz replied, 'But it's suuuch a preeetty colour...'

"Quite." responded Niauli. "But I do have a reason for being here. Yshyn and I were merely giving in to our uncontrollable desire to frighten people."

Zeboary couldn't quite tell, with Niauli's deadpan delivery, whether or not the Weapon's Senior was joking or not. "Enlighten us, please." she said.

Fenuz said, 'Your bracelet is soaking.'

Zeboary glanced at the colourful affair on her wrist. The bright purple and blue denoted her as a Tunnel Engineer, as did the bracelets of all those in the room (apart from Niauli, who wore red, and was a weapons technologist), and the silver beads strung on the end showed she was Senior. Water was soaked through, and it seemed to be shrinking a little as it dried.

Zeboary sent:
{irrelevance}

"One zat'nik'atel is missing from the armoury." Niauli said, her expression intense. "I am enquiring as to whether anyone here failed to return one they have taken, or have seen a spare in any location."

Zeboary glanced around, seeing nothing but blank faces staring back at her. The Senior Tunnel Engineer turned her attention to Niauli. "Our apologies, but no."

Niauli sighed. "Very well. Likely a sentry failed to return theirs after completing duty. It would not be the first time." she muttered, almost to herself. Or her symbiote. "Apologies for disruption." she said, and glanced at Alith. "You should see a Healer about your nerves." she commented. "Likely Olayinka has a sedative agent that would aid."

Alith's reply was unrepeatable.

"Your language charms." Niauli said, and glanced at Zeboary with curiosity. "What is it you were discussing before my intrusion?"

"Zeboary was trying to explain the whole Council of Nine deal..." Helen said, raising her voice to be heard over the murmurs of independent conversation that had sprung up within a few seconds. "Badly."

Zeboary frowned at Helen. "You do not wish to progress beyond student level, do you?" Helen's face fell and Zeboary nodded briskly. "Apparently you do."

"I wish you luck in that," Niauli said to Zeboary. "I have been attempting to understand it for decades. Or at least Yshyn has. All I am aware of is there are nine councillors, arranged in three ranks. When one dies, all move up. That brings up an opening in the last triad, at the most junior level."

"That makes more sense than anything she said." Saleil said, jerking a thumb in Zeboary's direction.

"Just for that, Saleil," Zeboary said. "You get to generate the new room in Tunnel Seven we were scheduled to do tomorrow."

Saleil's face also fell.

Zeboary said, 'That's what I get for trying to inject a little interest into my explanations.'

Fenuz said, 'Your loquacious attitude may actually get us that position on the council.'

Zeboary frowned. 'That was a veiled insult, was it not?'

Fenuz sent:
{neutrality}

Fenuz said, 'Maybe.'

Zeboary sent:
{ugh!}

**

Sam's coffee was hot as hell, sweet as honey, black as death, and strong enough to wake the dead. Not normally the way she took her caffeine, but it was exactly what she needed. It was Daniel's secret blend that he'd handed her when she'd stumbled out of the ICU lab twenty minutes earlier. She had no idea how he'd known when she was coming out, or how to have a steaming mug of the stuff with him, but she wasn't going to argue. She was just grateful.

"Good morning, Sam." came Janet's voice, as the Doctor approached her. Sam had been lurking in a little alcove in one of the corridors, and, somehow, people had not been seeing her. Obviously, Janet had actually been looking for her.

"Nothing good about it," Sam responded miserably, ignoring the pitying look Janet cast on her, as well as the Doctor's relative alertness.

Janet, for her part, just thought that Sam looked like hell, and was tempted to haul her off to the infirmary, drug her up to the eyeballs with soporific, and let her sleep until christmas. "Been up late again with Martouf, right?"

Sam stared at her for a moment, debating whether or not to say anything, and opened her mouth to answer her friend-

"Dammit Janet!" Sam turned slightly to see Lanigan turn the corner, straightening the collar of her lab coat hurriedly, and looking annoying. Her hair was mussed, as if she'd not glanced in the mirror yet, and her eyes looked slightly out of focus. There was nothing blurred about her voice, however, nor the words she spoke. "I said six hours. Not six and a half, not seven, and certainly not eight!"

"Hello Bronagh," Janet said, suppressed amusment in her voice, ignoring the Doctor's ire as Lanigan swept down the corridor and past them, heading in the direction of virology. Janet patted Sam's arm. "Let's give her some time to calm down and to put away the sharp scalpel-type objects before we check up on her." Janet glanced to her right. They were only a few doors down from the medical common room for this section, and, if Janet remembered correctly, it was usually deserted at this point in the day.

"Come on," she said, gently touching Sam's arm with a finger to get her attention, and starting off down the corridor.

The common room was a place for medics who were off-duty or on a break in that section of the medical wing. There were a lot of comfortable chairs, and was obviously frequently used, considering the almost empty coffee pot and the countless upturned, recently washed mugs on the draining board beside the sink. Janet grabbed a mug with the slogan 'Party Chick' emblazoned on the side and headed for the coffee itself.

Someone had left the milk on the hotplate, and it had gone off.

"Ugh!" Janet's stomach did a quick flip as her nose got a whiff of what was left of the milk, and she strode over to the sink to pour the white coagulated fluid (now more a solid) down the drain, then tossed the carton into the bin. "That's disgusting."

"Not a fan of gone-off milk, Janet?" Sam asked, rhetorically, as she dropped into one of the low, comfortable chairs, that faced a small coffee table with a couple of medical journals lying on it, as well as someone's notes on the burn injuries suffered by SG3 when they had come back through the Gate several days earlier. As all four members were now fine, Janet knew they'd only been rough notes that had been completely abandoned, so she had no qualms about putting her newly made mug of coffee on top of them.

"I just despise black coffee." she said.

"Picky, picky, picky." Sam said, half mockingly, rolling her eyes to punctuate her words.

"Whatever," Janet said, returning the gesture. "You didn't answer my question."

"Hmm?" Sam was avoiding the question, taking a sip of her drink.

"You were up with Martouf all night, we're you?" Janet repeated her earlier question, watching Sam's face intently.

"You're surprised?" Sam asked, her voice oddly neutral, as if warily judging Janet's response.

"Not really. But you've spoken to him again..." Janet said slowly, stirring in some sugar to her coffee, three more spoonfuls than she usually took.

"Yes," Sam said, lacing her hands around her own mug, ignoring the almost burning sensation the ceramic inflicted on her palms. She ignored the pain it caused. "He's... his personality's almost completely gone... he doesn't seem to remember anyone, or anything. I mentioned Lantesh to him, and he didn't know what I was talking about."

Janet frowned deeply, her mind flipping through what she knew about host-symbiote connections, and what it would take to sever them to that degree. "You mean he's completely lost contact with Lantesh?"

Sam pursed her lips slightly and tilted her head. "No... you said yourself at one point... or was that Larrell? That Lantesh is concentrating on fighting the virus." Sam pressed a hand to the centre of her chest to indicate herself. "My memories of Jolinar indicate that when the host is injured, and there's no sarcophagus, the symbiote turns inwards, blocking off all distractions in order to work faster, and harder."

"Somehow," Janet said, "I don't think it's being entirely successful in this case."

Sam swallowed and said nothing, bringing her mug to her lips to take a sip of her coffee, wincing at the too-hot liquid. She had dark circles under her eyes and looked like she hadn't slept in days. That, Janet thought, was probably an accurate assessment.

By all rights, considering that the virus was contained, and that the staff were working flat out to discover some sort of treatment, there was no reason for General Hammond to allow SG1 time off from their missions. However, Janet had been privy to a little discussion earlier, while Sam was keeping vigil over the Tok'ra, concerning it all.

Jack O'Neill had been there as well, Hammond had wanted to speak to them both, more in their capacity as friends to Sam than as medical and commanding officers (although that was the official rationale).

"Major Carter is... quite attached to Martouf, is she not?" he had finally said, after they had done the traditional dancing around the issue.

"That's one way of putting it, sir." Janet had said, lacing her fingers together, and had ignored the expression O'Neill had turned on her which said 'what do you know that I don't?'. She had stared levelly at Hammond.

"And she's not quite herself, is she?" he had added.

"No sir." Janet had agreed.

"I checked with Siler," O'Neill had also said. "She hasn't been anywhere near the astrophysics lab ever since we returned from..." he paused. "Well, whatever that planet was called."

"She's..." Janet had hesitated, trying to think about how she should phrase her next words. "She's acting like... a grieving... relative..." She had given O'Neill and Hammond a discreet glance as she said that, and noted the same expression crossing their faces. They didn't have any illusions. She was much more than a 'relative'. "I don't think she can function like this."

"I'd have to agree with Doctor Frasier, sir," O'Neill had said, his voice soft, an indication of how serious this way. "She's in no condition to go off-world, she's likely to get herself or the team injured, and it would be..." O'Neill had trailed off.

"Cruel?" Hammond had finished, raising an eyebrow at the pair.

Janet and O'Neill had glanced at each other, then back at the General in perfect unison. "I'd say that's accurate, General." Janet had said, bowing her head in a slow nod.

"Very well," Hammond had sighed. "Doctor, I suggest you return to your patient. Colonel, SG1 is, at this point, on standdown."

Janet shook her head to break her reverie and glanced at her watch. "I think we've given her long enough, let's go see how Bronagh's doing..."

**

"You look as if you're working hard."

Lanigan, startled, lifted her fingers off the keyboard she had been ferociously pounding a few seconds earlier, cursing every other letter she typed. She was sitting on a stool at one of the desks in the research lab. This particular room just had two long desks, with two computers on each desk, and free space for people to work on paper at. There were several other researchers in the lab, all working on the same thing, as far as Sam could tell: Martouf's virus.

"Or should I say fruitlessly." Janet finished as they approached Lanigan. "Your hair's sticking up at the back."

Lanigan automatically reached up and ran her fingers through her hair in an attempt to tame it. "What can I help you two with?" she said. It seemed that the eight hour rest she said she had got had not been entirely well-spent. Probably hadn't been able to sleep.

"Come to check up on your work." Sam said, to which Lanigan offered a wry smile.

"Worried I'm not working hard enough?" she asked, then continued, before either of them could speak, by gesturing to her computer. "Just going over some of the new data the others processed while I was resting."

"And?" Janet asked. "Any progress?"

"Some." Lanigan said. "But I'm not sure whether it's in the right direction."

Janet frowned and folded her arms, resting her hip against the desk. "Go on." she prompted.

"From what I can tell," Lanigan said slowly, looking utterly perplexed, as if she couldn't quite understand what she was saying, herself. "The virus isn't harmful."

"Doctor," Sam said, in a cold voice. "I think if you go down to the ICU, then you'll see that the virus is quite deadly."

"I know that, Major," There was a hint of steel in Lanigan's voice, but even so, she laced her fingers in her lap and looked at them for a long time, refusing to meet Sam's accusitory gaze. "However, that is the only conclusion I have been able to draw thus far. The virus does not replicate in a body without a symbiote, and even samples drawn from Martouf indicate that the original infectious agent is not replicating. The average number of viral bodies in his blood stream is constant. Actually, no, it's not. It's decreasing. And as it's decreasing, his symptoms are worsening. That shouldn't be happening."

"If it only affects Blended people," Janet said, glancing warily at Sam, before looking back to the Lanigan. "Maybe it replicates in the symbiote rather than the host."

Lanigan shook her head, hair flopping around her face. She brushed it away irritably. "We considered that." She turned to Sam, knowing that she had the least medical knowledge. "Viruses are parasites. To reproduce, they must take over the machinery of a living cell. Otherwise, they cannot survive." She took a quick breath and continued, "Once a virus gets inside its host cell, it makes use of the cell's enzymes to reproduce. The cell makes large numbers of new virus particles which are then released, ready to infect new cells. The originally infected cell is destroyed in the process."

Lanigan spun on her stool and tapped the mouse of her computer to end the screensaver of a fractal pattern and to display the data her lab had gathered so far. Sam looked at it, but very little of it made sense to her. That was something, as she thought of it, that not many people understood about scientists. One specialist won't understand another speciality anymore than a layperson would. Try getting some of the people around here to see that, she thought. The monitor was full of greek and latin derivations that made absolutely no sense.

"These are the results of the biopsies we've been taking from host and symbiote." Lanigan said, pointing at one set of figures on the screen. "There's not cellular damage that's normally associated with viruses." Lanigan hesitated, touching her upper lip with the tip of her tongue briefly before saying, "Of course, it's an alien virus, working on someone who's partially alien, so I could be looking for the wrong thing... and what the hell is that crap?"

Sam backed out of Lanigan's way as the Doctor suddenly slipped off the stool and strode over to the radio and slapped the cassette's stop button. She pulled out the tape and read the label. Sam hadn't even noticed the music that the thing had been playing quietly.

"The Firm, Star Tr- oh, give me a break." Lanigan tossed the tape into a drawer, slamming it shut with a bang, and stuck in a new one. It would have been pointless trying to tune it to a local station. Twenty one floors underground, not many radio signals got through.

"Can't think without music..." she said, by way of explanation, pausing briefly by a blonde's workstation to take a file off her and return to her stool.

"Doctor Frasier to ICU-4. Emergency! Repeat: Doctor Frasier to ICU-4!"

Janet was already heading for the door as soon as her name had been paged over the PA system. As soon as Sam heard where Janet was needed, she was following close behind, trying not to break into a run. Lanigan remained behind, momentarily wondering what she was supposed to do. Then she turned back to her computer and called up her data, sighing heavily.

Sam had to work hard not to barrel past her friend, who was taking much shorter strides, so moved slower, in spite of running. She, however, had a much better idea of where they were going than Sam did, so when Janet abruptly grabbed a doorframe and entered, Sam overshot the mark and had to double back. When she entered, Janet was already pulling on her suit.

"He's going into total systemic failure," a nurse rattled off in a high, reedy voice as two medics helped Janet on with her quarantine suit, fastening the various clasps for her. "Heartrate, respiration... vitals are all over the place!"

"I'm coming in there as well." Sam said, in what she hoped with a firm tone of voice.

"You'll only get in the way!" Janet snapped, with a total lack of patience as an assistant helped her on with her helmet, tucking it in. "Nurse, let her into observation. Nothing else." With that minor concession, Janet and three other medics, also fully suited, crowded past the first door of the airlock.

Some nameless, and ultimately, faceless, nurse touched her sleeve to get her attention, "This way, please, Major." and opened a door just off to the side, leading to a staircase, at the top of which was the observation gallery. She wasted no time to get to the room itself, taking the steps two at a time.

When she got to the room, she could see Martouf, surrounded by nearly a dozen medical workers, chattering in obscure terminology, moving rapidly as Janet and another senior Doctor (Sam couldn't tell who through all the coverings) snapped out their orders.

Sam's eyes widened in panic as she heard some nurse murmur, almost inaudible, "He's dying."

'Oh please no...' she thought, and, unable to stop herself, pressed her hand against the glass partition, as if trying to reach through and touch him herself. 'No, please don't leave me...'

**

It was rather peaceful in a way. A sense of "oh well... never mind... at least I tried..." to it all. Martouf wondered what that was...

'You're dying...'

Really? How fascinating.

Someone sent:
{irritation}

A voice at the back of his mind said, 'It is not fascinating, Martouf! You are dying! You have to hold on. You have to stay as awake as you can... you have no idea how much I'm straining myself to talk to you... I think the virus is almost finished on your nervous system... I'm worried it'll go to your immune next... your body try to kick start an immune response... that would be bad, believe me. Not to mention ineffective...'

Martouf thought:
{My, doesn't the little voice talk a lot...}

The voice sent:
{deadpan}

'I ramble when I'm nervous. So sue me, to quote the Tau'ri. Now listen. You must not fall asleep...'

But it was so peaceful. It wouldn't be so hard, to just float away on the gentle currents of that sensation... he wouldn't go very far.

Martouf thought:
{strange voice}

The retort was blistering in its intensity. 'I am NOT just some voice, Martouf! I am your symbiote! I am Lantesh. You are dying, and that is something I will NOT ACCEPT!! DO NOT LEAVE ME!!!'

Martouf said, 'Silly voice. Not going to go anywhere. Just going to sleep.'

There was a long silence. Mentally. Physically, the chatter of the people around him was almost deafening, yet, in a way, it was soundless.

Then, 'Martouf, do not go. Samantha will cry. You do not wish her to cry, do you?'

Samantha? Who was Samantha? That nice blonde woman who had spoken with such kindness earlier? Or was that just someone he'd known... a long time ago.

'Martouf, I know what's happening to you. With your memories. They're not... right. Please, Martouf, you must remember right...'

Lantesh sent:
{sensation: hands entwined, sand underneath legs, sorrow, completion}

'Do you remember? Please...'

'Oh yes... her. I know her.'

Martouf's eyes opened slightly and, seeing the orange, fully suited people-

Martouf thought:
{bad suits, uncomfortable}

'Please Martouf...'

-cluster around him, pressing needles into his skin, reading off information in a language he was sure he should know, and-

Lantesh sent:
{left}

-he turned his head slightly to the left, looking through the small gap between two oddly clothed people who messed with a tube that fed into his arm. She was standing behind a glass panel, her hand gently pressing against the surface, as if she were trying to reach through towards him. Tears were streaming down her face.

'She shouldn't do that.' Martouf said to the voice. 'She shouldn't cry. It spoils her face.'

'Martouf, do not leave me. Do not leave her, do not make her cry! Please!!'

"Wait! Sharon, Atkins, what are the stats?" a singular female voice seemed to reach over the chatter of foolish little nurses. "Ok, that's good. I think he's out of danger for now..."

'She's right. Shabra, Martouf, she's right.'

'Does that mean I can sleep now?'

The voice sent:
{relief}

'Yes, Martouf. Sleep as much as you like.'

**

If the thumping and the cursing wasn't enough to get the attention of the Technologists currently sorting out equipment in their new lab, then the almighty crash which seemed to make the air itself vibrate was sufficient to make the occupants of the room send puzzled glances towards the doorway.

"Is that you, Kaethe? Tikar?" Adlai put down the scanning equipment he had been trying to set up on the slab that made up the large table in the centre of the room and took a few steps towards the entrance. "Do you require help?"

"That," Kaethe shouted through the doorway. "Is a given! Assist me!"

Adlai chuckled slightly and headed out of the room, returning a moment later, helping Kaethe/Tikar to drag a larger piece of equipment inside. Natane, the symbiote of Achen, ran her finger along the edge of the table, having just finished assembling a microscanner that they had previously been keeping in storage until they had sufficient space to set up the room.

"We finally have a workspace," she said approvingly, then her tone turned rueful. "It certainly took the delmak'carr long enough."

Delmak'carr: crystal lovers. It was a rather affectionate term for the Tunnel Engineers, who considered it a point of pride to ensure that nothing ever happened to their crystals. They were almost obsessive about the objects responsible for the building of the Tok'ra homeworld facilities, and knew their craft intimately. Hence, the term.

Natien/Delyn snorted in amusement, the host speaking for the pair of them. "It took," he said, "A plea to the Council that then took several sessions to get cleared. Then it took a formal request to the Tunnel Senior before she assigned someone to generate this construct." He gestured about him.

"What is the phrase that Jacob and Selmak are so fond of quoting?" Adlai said, tilting his head as he left Kaethe to try to figure out the device on her own (she was nearly ready to become a full Technologist, so she should be able to do so).

It was Natane who answered, recalling the specific sentence. "Patience," she said, raising her hand and gesturing in a manner that was very much Jacob's, "Is a virtue."

Kaethe said, as she knelt on the floor and began to prise off a side panel, "There was a wise man, a mythical figure on my world, who believed there were two kinds of virtue. Intellectual and moral. Her was one of the founders of our philosophical structure."

"Truly?" Natien asked, leaning on the edge of the table.

"Yes," Kaethe responded, realising she had the attention of the Technologists in that corner of the room. She picked up a tool and started tracing circuit connections in the panel. "Mitena theorised," she glanced at them, pausing briefly, "As she interviews us all when we first join the Tok'ra concerning our culture..." There were general nods all round, so she continued, "She theorised that this figure, who had slipped into mythology due to a lack of physical evidence of his ever existing on our world, actually was a being from the Tau'ri, slipped into folklore after we were removed from the first world."

"The Anthropologist said something similar to me." Natien said.

"This figure, however, had some deeply flawed ideas about a single planet being the centre of the Universe. His theories were debunked shortly after the Goa'uld departed from our world and we began to develop ourselves." Kaethe said.

"I would imagine," Natane said, "That all cultures go through that period. Human or otherwise. An egocentric phase, which some never leave."

"Like the Tau'ri?" Adlai sniggered.

"Now, now," Natane wagged her finger at the other. "Don't let Jacob or Helen hear you say that, or they'll eat you for breakfast."

"For we are crunchy and taste good with ketchup." murmured Kaethe, but no one heard her.

"We hear and understand." Natien told her, earning himself a dazzling smile from Natane. Adlai tried not to roll his eyes. He was so eager to impress Natane, hoping to become her mate. But of course he thought that she barely knew he existed. If only he knew. Adlai had, after all, heard Achen babbling to her friends when she had managed to get a little tipsy at some celebration.

Ceii sent Adlai:
{query: noise}

Adlai frowned deeply, stepping away from the small group, listening to the room about him. Normally, there was a constant 'shimmering' noise, apparently due to the redistribution of heat and energy, and the filtration of oxygen through the tunnels. It was all handled by the crystals, so they resonated with an almost pleasant tone; Adlai had spent many a night after he had first become Tok'ra listening to that tone (when his symbiote had fallen silent). But it was no longer there. It was odd, like a musician playing almost all the wrong notes, painful to hear. But it was so quiet, Adlai would never have noticed it if Ceii had not pointed it out. In fact, he wasn't certain he was hearing it at that point.

"Does anyone else hear that?" he asked, not turning round. So he shouldn't have been surprised when the chatter didn't decrease. The Technologists were still debating amongst themselves when he turned around and snapped, "Be quiet!"

Silence fell, and clanged as it hit the floor.

"Thank you," Adlai said, now that he had people's attention. "Now does anyone else hear that?"

The silence deepened as, almost in unison, the Technologists frowned and tilted their heads to listen.

"Something is off. Wrong." Adlai told them.

"Correct," Achen said, taking over from Natane, a thoughtful look on her face. "I am no Tunneller, but I know music. The chord of the crystals are off by almost two tones. It has become discordant."

"Something is wrong." Adlai said.

That was when it started. There was a 'chink', like glass breaking. On the far side of the room, someone yelped, then turned to stare at the wall behind them. "The crystal," they said, Adlai couldn't see who it was. "It's cracked."

It was like a chain reaction; the first crystal breaking caused others around it to crack. Then one of the luminescent crystals inset into the ceiling shattered, halving the available light and raining down shards of crystal onto those below. Several shrieked in startlement, covering their faces with their arms and ducking down.

"I may be wrong," Kaethe said, dropping her tool, as she got to her feet. She was unable to stop staring at the crystals around her. "But I really think we should leave."

The second luminescent crystal shattered, and the light disappeared entirely, the only light coming from the corridor, and in the panicked silence that followed, there was a sound that was something like creaking; a weight that was being supported by something that was not strong enough. Crystals continued breaking, and then they heard, and felt, the first patter of stones from the ceiling as the crystals began to break away in large chunks.

The Technologists ran for the entrance, seen by the light which came trhough it, rapidly diminishing as the corridor's ceiling crystals cracked. They ran and tried to escape as the Tunnel started to collapse about them.

**

Considering the fact that they were the Tok'ra ruling body, the Council were almost the last to know about the collapse. Their chambers were on the far side of the complex, and so people were moving past them and away from them rather than towards them. It was only when Dalir realised that a lot of very anxious looking Tunnel Engineers were running about, had heard the shouts for Technologists with metallurgical knowledge, and had relayed that information to her host, did Breia do something about the situation.

Breia, rather to the surprise of the Council, suddenly turned away from the discussion and strode to the door, apparently waiting for something. When a flushed scout ran past the door, her hand snaked out and grabbed him by the arm, bringing him to an abrupt halt.

"What are you doing?" demanded Yosef, who was in control of her body for the time being.

Breia ignored the High Counsel. "Scout Jothe," she said to the man, watching him as he tried to get his breath back. "State your purpose."

Jothe/Lian actually gaped at her, as if he were unable to believe what he was hearing. "You mean you haven't been informed? I'm certain we sent someone to inform you..."

"What," Jacob said, a cold feeling of dread in his stomach. Something about the Scout's manner unnerved him. "Are you talking about?"

Jothe's incredulous gaze flickered towards him. "There's been a collapse in Tunnel Seven, people are trapped inside."

That was all Olayinka needed to hear. Almost before he had finished his sentence, the Healer Senior had dashed from the room, heading at a dead run towards Tunnel Seven. The Council were only slightly slower off the mark, running towards the tunnel collapse they had not been informed off.

When they reached Tunnel Seven, they found the entire area in chaos. A group of Tunnel Engineers and Technologists were trying to brace the walls with some kind of metal arch, while the entire tunnel was blocked off with rocks that had fallen from the ceiling. Shards of shattered crystal covered the ground, and crunched loudly whenever someone stepped on them. Bruised, battered and bloodied people were being carried out of the tunnel on stretchers or between two people; whatever was to hand, and some were obviously still trapped among the rubble. Apart from the fact that teams were trying to remove the rocks without causing another collapse, a few hands, arms or legs could be seen.

Zeboary had taken some sort of charge of the situation, Breia and Dalir discovered quickly. The Tunnel Senior was directing people with exaggerated gestures and yelling loudly. Breia could hear the telltale signs of hoarseness beginning to show themselves in Zeboary's voice.

'Inefficient,' Breia commented to her symbiote.

Dalir didn't respond.

"Where's Tovin and Laith?" she was demanding of a scout she had apparently drafted to function as a runner. Whatever answer he gave her was apparently not enough. "Well go and find him! I don't care how many people it takes, just do it! Tell him he needs to bring something to shore up a collapsing matrix."

That done, Zeboary turned, and her eyes caught sight of the majority of the Council standing, looking more than a little bewildered, in a doorway. She jogged over to them, jumping over small piles of rubble. Around them, small rocks continued to fall, and the screech of the crystals, combined with the yells of the Engineers and Technologists trying to stabilise the area, created a cacophany of sound.

Breia sent Dalir:
{distress: chaos}

Dalir replied, 'Live with it, honey.'

Zeboary had reached the Council grouping and Fenuz had launched, without waiting for a prompt, into her report. "We got called to this collapse. We don't know what caused it, to be honest, we'll worry about it later." The symbiote paused for breath and continued. "There are still people trapped under the rubble, and we're trying to locate a geo-sonic in order to sound out where they might be. Most of them were Technologists that were moving into their new workspace. Some injured we've already recovered and we've despatched them to the main infirmary in Tunnel Three."

Breia assumed, correctly, that since Olayinka had not appeared at the disaster site along with the rest of the council, then she was likely in the Infirmary.

Fenuz was still talking, not letting anyone get a word in edgeways. "I'm trying to contact the Technologist Senior, as we need people with metallurgical knowledge to shore up the matrix in this corridor while we try and sever it, before the instability spreads further."

During this, Fenuz had gestured to the ceiling above them, referring to the matrix which the Tunnels were constructed around. From what Dalir knew, the crystals grew onto the matrix, so any problems would cause the crystals (which, while they looked hard enough, were actually pretty brittle if damaged) to break. That must have been what had happened.

"What do you need the Council to do?" asked Selmak, staring at the Tunnel Senior intensely.

Fenuz looked briefly embarrassed. "I need you to get out of the way." she told them. "You're blocking one of the exits." She was quick to add, though, "However, I think that as many people as are available have been requested to deal with the injuries in the Infirmary. As soon as we can actually start moving the rubble, there are going to be a lot more."

Breia nodded briskly, even as Garshaw said, "We understand."

Breia wasted no time in turning on her heel and headed towards the Infirmary at Garshaw's nod to the rest of the Council, most of whom dispersed among the injured to start ferrying them to Tunnel Three. Inside, she found Olayinka moving from person to person, performing on the spot evaluations.

It was Hanne's voice who spoke though, snapping out phrases such as "broken arm, you'll live" and "find me some soporific and get a healer who can use a healing device".

Dalir told her host, 'Triage. Sorting by degrees of urgency. Hanne is much better at it than Olayinka. For she has too much compassion in her soul. Olayinka is a Healer. Hanne is a Physician.'

Breia regarded the Healer's work for a moment before pronouncing her approval of Hanne's sorting technique. 'She is efficient.'

'Whatever you say, dear.' Dalir responded in a patronising tone of voice.

Breia was about to go up to Hanne and offer her assistance with the injured, when the Healer Senior seemed to realise she was there and her head snapped up from the on-the-spot diagnosis of severe lacerations causing by shattered crystal. Breia actually took a step back at the intensity of her gaze.

Dalir said, 'That's an expression common to Healers everywhere...'

The intensity didn't reduce as Hanne said, dragging out each word as if it were a curse. "What. Happened."

**

'Sick of this. Sick of work. Sick of computers... and on top of it, I think I'm getting a cold. I hate colds. I hate viruses. Fine thing for a virologist to say...'

Bronagh Lanigan kept up the constant mental stream as she peered at her monitor, studying the structure of the virus as far as she and her team had been able to determine it thus far. The words were starting to blur together, and the image was getting fuzzy. Bronagh sat back and rubbed her eyes, the result being that the screen was even more blurred when she looked again. But at least she had made some progress... she hoped. A new theory had presented itself in her mind a few minutes earlier, been quickly scrawled down, and was in the process of being mulled over.

'Ok, Miss Doctor person,' Bronagh could almost hear her sister's chiding voice, as she always had when Rionach had walked in on her elder sibling slumped over her medical texts (Rionach had been an artist, she just hadn't understood the obsession her sister had with academia), utterly exhausted. 'Time to take a break. Don't want to go killing your patients because you're too tired to know an eye from an elbow...'

'Of course not...' would always be Bronagh's response, and she'd be dragged down to the kitchen for a fresh steaming cup of coffee.

The thought of any caffeinated beverage was enough to get Bronagh to slip off her chair and glance towards the exit. Lou Harrison, a lab assistant, and the only person other than herself still in the virology lab at that hour, raised his eyes from the charts of data he had been consulting.

"Bron?"

Bronagh waved a hand to dismiss his curiosity. "Off to get some wake-up juice."

Lou grinned. "Oh, I see. That stuff. Get me some while you're at it?"

"Sure thing," she replied and stuck her hands in her lab coat pockets as she walked out, her eyes fixed on some distant point in space as her mind continued to turn thoughts over as she moved.

As such, it was hardly a surprise she didn't see the person she walked into, but very quickly came back into herself as she stepped back and raised her hands in apology. "Oh, I'm so sorry,"

"It is not a problem," a warm alto voice informed her. Bronagh, realising that she had almost knocked the Tok'ra representative over, immediately flushed bright red.

"You two haven't been introduced, have you?" Doctor Jackson said, who had been walking next to the Tok'ra, talking to her. At Bronagh's obviously confused expression he said, "Doctor, meet Larrell and her symbiote Aela, Larrell this is Doctor Bronagh Lanigan."

"Honoured," Larrell said simply, bowing her head. Then she stared curiously at Bronagh. "You are the researcher who is working on the virus that infects Martouf, are you not?"

Bronagh nodded, unaccountably nervous. "I am." she replied, unconsciously rubbing her palm with her fingertips.

"Ah," Larrell said with a smile, "Then allow me to extend the thanks of the Tok'ra for accepting such a task."

"It's no problem," Bronagh replied, "Really, it's not."

Larrell smiled serenely and said nothing. There was a long pause of awkward silence, and just as Bronagh was about to clear her throat and make her excuses, Jackson said, "I offered to take Larrell here down to the canteen, she hasn't eaten much since she came here. So we'd really better be going before there's nothing left."

Bronagh nodded, relieved that she wouldn't have to make excuses, and knowing that it was just what Jackson was doing. He knew, as well as she did, that the commissary was open and staffed 24/7, in order to cater to the needs of the SG teams who could come back at any time of the day or night. More often than not, they came back hungry.

"I see, well, I've got to get some coffee, I think I've actually made some progress and I want to make sure I'm awake to follow through on it." Bronagh said, nodding her head rapidly. "So, I am certain I will see you again, Larrell." she said to the Tok'ra.

The woman smiled that serene smile once more. "Likewise, Doctor."

Then the pair left her, continuing towards the nearest elevator. Bronagh shook her head, trying to dispel the odd chill she felt. She blamed it all on her grandmother of course; the whole bad feeling and precognition of nasty events thing. Her grandmother had supposedly been a little bit psychic, having seen the ghosts of the people who died on the ward while she worked as a nurse, and although Bronagh thought it unlikely in the extreme that she'd ever had such a skill, never mind passed it on to her daughter and granddaughter, Bronagh had seen enough strange and weird things to make her believe anything. A pair of children on the last Halloween had come Trick or Treating dressed as Roswell Greys, and for a horrifying moment, she had been convinced she was being visited by the Asgard.

The medical common room had a couple of male orderlies lounging on the low sofas, watching TV and chuckling at an advert on the screen. Bronagh rolled her eyes as she switched the kettle on.

"Save me from all this testosterone." she told the pair, who hadn't seen her come in, but barely reacted to her presence anyway.

"What's up, Bron?" One asked her, gesturing to the TV, which had now turned over to a trailer for the latest episode of some godawful syndicated series. "Don't like the bra adverts?"

Bronagh gave him a half-incredulous, half-derogatory look she had learnt off on of her college professors, designed to reduce medical students into quivering lumps. "Why, may I ask you," she said, rummaging in the fridge for the milk, before spying it on the hotplate and grimacing. "Is an advert that's for women so obviously aimed at men?"

"Demographics." the other responded.

Bronagh picked up a magazine and playfully whacked each of them over the head. "Get back to work, the pair o'ya..." she told them, before leaving the room again, armed with two mugs of coffee and a copy of Biological Review, and the orderlies chuckled once more at whatever it was they were watching.

Bronagh didn't know how she actually managed to get back to the viro-lab in ten minutes, considering that every other step she took (or at least, it felt like every other step) someone approached her asking her something about a medical, viral or miscellaneous 'other' problem. The coffee was almost cold by the time she got there, grateful that the door was standing open so that she wouldn't have to juggle the mugs in order to reach the handle.

"Lou?" she called as she walked inside. "Lou, are you here?" She dropped one mug and the magazine next to her workstation and she glanced around for her colleague. "Come on, Lou, I've got coffee." She glanced at the mug. "Ok, cold coffee, but it's the thought that counts."

She couldn't see him anywhere in the research lab, and so decided that she'd simply leave the coffee next to the charts he had been consulting and if he came back and found his coffee cold, it was his problem, not hers. Stepping around one of the benches, her foot slipped a little on a pool of liquid on the floor.

"Oh for goodness sake..." she murmured. Maybe that was why he'd left the room, to get something to mop up the potassium manganate with. Except - Bronagh's stomach felt like it was filled with lead as she looked - potassium manganate was a very deep purple. This was red, dark red.

Bronagh didn't want to look, but something in her brain hit an override switch and she cautiously stepped forward two paces, to see where the liquid was coming from. Behind the table, next to a couple of knocked over stool, lay Lou, an ugly red gash across his forehead and temple, the bone showing through. He didn't breath.

The coffee mug shattered on the hard concrete floor of the lab as it dropped from Bronagh's suddenly nerveless hands. Her only thought was 'Oh my God!' which she repeated over and over under her breath, like a mantra. She whirled to try and flee the room, but came up against what felt like a wall less than a foot behind her.

She had enough time to register the quarantine suit, and enough time to take a deep breath and open her mouth to scream, but that was all the time she got, as the figure grabbed her by the throat, cutting off her air supply, and slammed her against the wall. Then it raised a heavy blunt object which Bronagh dimly recognised as a large wrench, like those used by SGC technicians, before everything went black.

**

"I thought you were meant to be watching Larrell." Jack O'Neill said to Teal'c as the Jaffa fell into step beside him. Jack had been cornered while walking aimlessly through the corridors by Janet, who had thrust a pile of files into his hands and ordered him to deliver them to Bronagh Lanigan in virology.

"I was." Teal'c answered. "However she had not eaten in some time, and Daniel Jackson volunteered to take her to the commissary."

"So she prefers men with glasses, hmm?" Jacks aid, then shook his head at the look Teal'c cast his way. "Earth humour, Teal'c."

"I see." was the simple response.

They walked in silence for a moment, heading slowly for the virology lab. Jack was in no particular hurry to deliver the files. He guessed that he would probably just be given another pile of papers and told to give them to someone else. Colonel Jack O'Neill: carrier extraordinaire! When they finally reached the area of the medical wing they were looking for, Jack frowned, puzzled.

"What's all that noise up there?" Jack muttered to Teal'c as banging and cursing reached them down the corridor.

A woman in a rumpled lab coat stood, fighting with the door to the virology lab, rattling the handle and occasionally kicking at the door. She looked absolutely frantic, flushed and breathing shallowly.

"What's going on?" he asked her as he approached.

The woman whirled and stared at him. "Sir!" she said, looking panic-stricken. "Something's wrong! I'm trying to get into the lab! And there's something wrong! The door isn't opening! And-"

"What's your name, Doctor?" Jack asked her.

"Lilian Forester," The woman said, and realising that he was trying to slow her down, she stopped and took a deep breath. "Lily. And I'm not a Doctor, just a lab tech. I'm trying to get the door open, but it won't move."

Teal'c look puzzled. "The door is not working. Is it simply locked?"

Forester shook her head, her eyes wide. "That's not it!" she said, "I looked under the door! There's blood on the floor!"

Jack and Teal'c exchanged glances and within a few seconds, Teal'c was attempting to break down the door. It didn't stand up to the assault for more than a few seconds, and the door opened, leaving a large chunk of wood missing where the lock had simply been torn off.

The slow trickle of blood was enough to lead Jack to the bodies, hidden from view of anyone who walked into the room. A metallic tang filled the air, and he caught sight of Forester by the door, hand clapped over her mouth as she tried not to retch.

There were two bodies. One male, one female. The female was hardly recognisable as Bronagh Lanigan; the back and side of her skull having been crushed. The only reason he knew was by the ID tag attached to her lab coat lapel, covered in red fluid. Jack didn't need to check either of them for pulses, since it was obvious no one could live with necks at that angle, with eyes that stared sightlessly out on the world, and whose internal fluids spilled out onto most of the lab floor.

"O'Neill," came Teal'c voice, oddly subdued. "Shall I call a medical team?"

Jack shook his head slowly, still standing numb over the bodies. "No, Teal'c. Don't bother." He paused. "But you had better call base security."

**

George Hammond had rarely seen such a scene as the one he witnessed upon entering the virology lab, which swarmed with security and medical personnel. Guards had taken up positions outside the door, and on the inside of the room, watching the investigators as they hunted for evidence and took photographs with hawk-like eyes. The medics were clothed in plain white jumpsuits, hands gloved, and were carefully placing the two ruined bodies into bags, trying to be as delicate as possible. A cup of coffee had smashed on the floor and its contents mingled with the blood from the murdered pair.

Horrible.

"Colonel O'Neill," Hammond caught sight of O'Neill standing a little distance away, speaking with Major Castleman, the head of Base Security. O'Neill turned his head, saw him, and excused himself from Castleman to speak to the General.

"Not a pretty sight, is it, sir." O'Neill said rhetorically as he approached. He gave the area a cursory glance, then turned away in distaste.

"That it is not, Colonel." Hammond said gravely. "Have they found anything yet?"

O'Neill shook his head. "No, sir. But then they've only just started poking around."

Both Hammond and O'Neill had to move aside at that point to allow the medics to carry the two bodies down the hallways to the morgue, on the other side of the medical level. Hammond watched the backs of the orderlies until they could no longer be seen, then turned back to O'Neill.

"From now on, Colonel, you'll be working in conjunction with Major Castleman in this investigation."

O'Neill looked slightly surprised at the new duty, but nodded anyway. "Yes, sir." he said.

Hammond said, "I've ordered a lockdown of the mountain. All non-essential personnel have been confined to quarters."

"Does that include the medical staff, sir?" O'Neill asked.

"No, they are definitely essential personnel right now, Colonel." Hammond told him. "I've also informed Teal'c that he's to be keeping round the clock watch on the Tok'ra envoy."

O'Neill hesitated a moment. "Daniel says she and he were on this level at the time of the murder." he said.

Hammond nodded. "So were nearly fifty others, Colonel."

O'Neill bobbed his head in concession of that point. Hammond handed over a small disk about an inch and a half in diameter. It was new type of data storage; more than a CD, less than a whole computer, that was now in use by the SGC, and a good portion of the military, thanks to some technology SG4 had brought back from P5C-424 a couple of years earlier. It was currently only used in the SGC, though, for recording security camera footage.

"This is the records of the murder," Hammond told O'Neill. "The image is useless. See if you can find someone to fix the problem."

Jack said, "I know just the person."

**

Major Thomas Castleman stared at the preliminary report the scenes-of-crime investigator had just handed him (it was so preliminary it was hand written on a standard report form) in disbelief. "Nothing? Absolutely nothing?"

Lieutenant Murray fidgeted for a moment. "Yes, sir."

Castleman sighed. "You can't tell me that a person walks in here, brutally murders two scientists and doesn't leave a single trace."

"Well, I looked at the surveillance tape," Murray said. "It was badly degraded by some sort of interference, probably artificial, but the attacker was wearing a quarantine suit. No skin or hair samples, no fingerprints."

Castleman didn't like this. Whoever had killed these two had obviously thought about what they were going to do in great detail. Or maybe they hadn't. Maybe it had all been thought up on the spur of the moment. To be honest, the thought of a mind that could conceive of and carry out a murder in this way in such a short time was nothing short of disturbing.

"I'm afraid," Murray was still speaking. "That unless you find the quarantine suit the attacker wore, I'm not going to have much luck finding physical evidence."

"Major Castleman," Doctor Frasier's voice caused both Murray and Castleman to turn in unison to look at the doctor as she approached, consciously avoiding looking in the direction of the area that Lanigan and Harrison had been found in. "You wanted to speak to me."

"Yes," Castleman said succinctly and raised a sheaf of paper in his left hand, extending it in Frasier's direction. She took it from him and gave him a quizzical look. "It was found near the Doctor's workstation. Actually, these were scattered on the floor. Looks like the murderer rifled through them and missed these." Castleman tapped the upper left corner of top-most sheet. "They're all numbered, so we know there are several missing. The rest..."

"All look like gibberish." Frasier said, leafing through the sheets. Her expression was one of distress. "So the murderer was looking for information on the virus she was researching?"

Castleman nodded. "We were hoping that you could shed some light on what all this means." he tapped the papers again.

Frasier took a deep breath and let it out slowly. There were shadows under her eyes, and the tension was almost visible in her shoulders and neck. "No idea." she said. "As I said before, it all looks like gibberish." She took another deep breath, as if to fortify herself. "I'll consult with the viro staff. See if they understood Lanigan's personal... shorthand, for lack of a better word."

"One other thing," Castleman said, before Frasier could withdraw. "There's this little matter of the quarantine suit."

Frasier held her hand up to forestall any more words. "You'd best speak to Sharon Atkins. She's the nurse in charge of the quarantine suits." She glanced at the pages in her hands. "I'll go and investigate this." she told them.

"Better hurry, Doctor." Murray said. "From what I hear, this Tok'ra's not getting any better."

"There's a time limit?" Frasier sounded as if she expected to be surprised but really wasn't. "How lovely."

"Right now, Doc," Castleman told her. "You've got to worry about finding a virus for this Tok'ra guy. And the fact that someone seems to be out to kill anyone who's investigating it."

Frasier narrowed her eyes. "Nothing like a little against the clock, life or death pressure to make a girl work extra hard." she muttered.

**

Jack entered the control room to find Castleman and Hammond speaking in low tones on one side of the room, the former gesturing a report of some sort with exaggerated gestures, while the latter looked like he was having a really bad day. He finally spotted the object of his search sitting at one of the computer keyboards that overlooked the Gateroom. She looked haggard, as if she hadn't slept, and her eyes were slightly red from crying. She was staring at the defense team vacantly. All off-world travel had been halted ever since the murder, and the whole base had been sealed. Consequently, it looked as if the defense team were resting on their laurels, standing at something less than attention and their eyes roaming around the room. Occasionally someone spoke, cracking a joke if the reaction of the rest of the guards was anything to go by.

"Sam," Jack caught the Major's attention as he came up behind her.

"Sir?" she said, sounding exhausted. "They told me to come up here but they didn't say what for." she told him.

"I requested you come up here," he said firmly, ignoring the odd look she gave him. He extended the small disc on which was contained several hours of security footage. He was only interested in a small portion of it, a few minutes at most. "I need you to go over this and see if you can clear it up."

"What is it?" she asked, taking the disk and fingering the edge gently.

"The only witness to Lanigan's murder." he said solemnly. She glanced at him for a moment, then swivelled her chair towards her computer screen and quickly loaded up the disk.

"This image is badly degraded." she pronounced after a moment.

"Any idea what might have caused that?" he asked her, watching her carefully.

Sam shrugged in a miniscule fashion, not taking her eyes away from the screen as she started to process the image. "Any number of things. Considering the type of technology we use in these cameras... probably something that generated an electromagnetic field."

She fell silent, and Jack felt compelled to keep her talking. She seemed to be less miserable when she 'talked tech'. "How?" Sam paused briefly, looking at him, waiting for him to expand on that question. "How could someone have done that?"

"Again, any number of things." Fingers danced over the keys. "Could be an EM field generator. On the other hand, if they broke into the geology lab and got their hands on some of the galacite we found on P9R-548 they could have done the same thing. The ore has some unusual magnetic properties. It could have caused the cameras to malfunction like this."

"So," Jack said heavily. "We're looking at someone who not only stole a quarantine suit, but rocks as well? Gimme a break."

"Unlikely." said Sam. "The lab hasn't reported any missing." She hesitated. "Although I have been somewhat out of the loop."

"Sweet. So no missing rocks."

He expected her to at least try and crack a smile. She just looked annoyed.

"How are you holding up, Sam?" he asked her, resting a hand on her shoulder.

She reacted as if he wasn't even there. "I've been better," she said succinctly, and continued her rapid tapping on her keyboard. He removed his hand.

After several long moments, she finished typing with a flourish and took a deep breath. "Ok," she said, "I've enhanced this as much as I can without hauling the tape down to technical and having them work on it."

"Let's see it." Hammond said, having heard her statement and come over to view the image. Castleman followed him close behind.

The four of them watched the image on the screen with a tenseness that was almost palpable. Jack would later recall that no one had breathed during the entire duration of the film, as they saw a suited-figure enter the room, surprising the male researcher and killing him with a single blow to the head, then hide behind the door, waiting for Lanigan, and then attacking the Doctor. The figure hit her over the head with the large wrench that had been used mere moments earlier to kill her colleague, and then broke her neck for good measure. He would also remember that not a single one of them had looked away.

"That doesn't help us." Castleman said, shaking his head. "Not only does the suit hide the figure pretty well, the light off the faceplate means we can't see who the culprit is."

"It's a woman." Sam said with certainty.

Hammond frowned at her. "How can you tell?"

Sam tapped the screen with a fingernail and glanced at the other three. Seeing that they didn't know what she was getting at, she reversed the image a few frames, to when the suited figure was raising its arm to hit Lanigan with the heavy wrench. She froze the image there and indicated again.

"See." she said. "Believe me when I say that those are definitely a woman's breasts."

"I believe you." Jack said, and was relieved to see a slight smile threaten to creep onto her mouth.

"So that limits it to..." Castleman trailed off and looked at Jack. "How many people on this base are women again?"

"Sir," Jack said, before Hammond to issue the cutting remark he had been opening his mouth to give. "I'd say there's one person who immediately stands out as a suspect."

Hammond looked at him for a long moment, almost reading Jack's thoughts. "You mean Larrell."

"Larrell is Tok'ra!" The outburst came from Sam, to no one's surprise. There was a theory whispered behind Sam's back, so quietly that she'd never hear them, that Jolinar's feelings, however much she denied it, affected her judgement more than she liked. One example had been when the Asgard had come to Earth to negotiate for the world's inclusion into the Protected Planets Treaty. She had remembered that the Tok'ra trusted the Asgard, and so had done so implicitly. It also made her very difficult to convince that the Tok'ra could be at fault for anything.

"I'm aware of that, Major." Hammond said.

"You can't possibly suspect her of something like this!" Sam continued, ignoring the slight warning edge in Hammond's voice. "Lanigan was working on the virus that affects another member of the Tok'ra, she wouldn't-"

"I said that I am aware of that Major."

Sam couldn't even pretend not to hear the tone of Hammond's voice. She fell silent and turned back to the screen, pressing keys that did nothing, just to look as if she were doing something, and so she wouldn't have to meet anyone's eyes.

Castleman coughed nervously. "I just spoke to one of the medical staff concerning the quarantine suit used by the attacker," he said, drawing attention to himself and away from Sam, changing the subject. "Apparently a suit went missing at the time of the murder, and was reported a little afterwards by a nurse who needed to use it. So far, though, it hasn't been found."

Hammond stared at the frozen image of the murder for a long moment, considering. Jack and Castleman stood by silently waiting for their orders. Sam continued typing what looked like gibberish into the computer, but was probably some sort of complex computer code.

"Major Castleman, continue searching this base for this quarantine suit. Take it in teams. See if you can find the murder weapon and any other evidence of any sort. Locate other security camera footage if you can." Castleman nodded and at Hammond's gesture, headed out of the room, towards the direction of the security level.

"Sir," Jack prompted. "What about Larrell?"

Hammond cast a sidelong look at Sam, who had paused in her typing and was holding her fingers a few millimeters above the keyboard. "Tell Teal'c to bring her in for questionning. You conduct the interrogation, Colonel."

Sam's typing resumed in earnest.

"Yes, sir." he said.

"Sir," Sam said, spinning her seat around to face the General. "If that's all, I'd like to get back to medical...?"

Hammond shook his head sharply. "Major, I want you here to go over any security camera footage that Major Castleman's teams find that might be relevant."

Sam looked slightly forlorn. "Yes, sir." she murmured. "I believe," she said after a brief pause. "That I can do that with the technical staff on level twenty seven more effectively than I can here." she waved her hand at the control room.

"Understood, Major." Hammond said.

Sam nodded and left the room for the technical level. Hammond watched her go. So did Jack.

"Maybe she should speak to Mary Regan." he suggested to the General. Mary Regan was the Base's Counsellor. A psychologist with high enough clearance that ensured she could listen to what people went through on other worlds, any conversations that SGC members had with her were totally off the record and private. She was more a sympathetic ear than a Doctor. Anyone who really needed treatment would be referred to Doctor MacKenzie. Jack remembered once knocking on her door and walking in to find Bethany Fields engaged in a vicious game of 10-11 with her.

"I won't require her to just yet." Hammond told Jack. Then he gave a Colonel a look. "Not just yet." he repeated.

Jack understood. "I'll tell Teal'c to bring Larrell to me." he said.

**

The virology staff was assembled in its entirety (although two less strong than it had been) in the medical common room, including one very tearful and shaky Lilian Forester, who Janet was on the verge of prescribing a sedative or a soporific for. Or both. Her flatmate, Nurse Kelly, was sitting next to her to offer emotional support.

"Thanks for coming, all of you." Janet began, drawing all eyes towards her. She hadn't needed to call everyone to order. All of them were still somewhat emotionally numb and verbally silent following the massive shock of Lanigan's death.

"Bronagh," she said, "Left some notes. The attacker went through them and left us with about half a dozen to look at. I think they're for her viral research but I can't be certain." Janet had spread the sheets out on the low coffee table prior to starting and now picked one page up to read from it. "I can't understand it. Like this bit: P-3RYST. Sounds like latin to me."

There was some mirthless chuckling around the room. Susan Cole, a viro-tech, spoke up as the noise died down. "I know what that stands for." she volunteered. "The P is protein. 3RY is tertiary. ST is structure. She's denoting the tertiary structure of a protein, probably trying to crack the reproductive mechanism." Cole fell silent, her voice trailing off towards the end.

"Why did she write like that?" Janet asked, honestly perplexed.

Cole shrugged. "It was her form of shorthand. Too little patience to learn the real thing, and she said thoughts came to her so fast that she had to note them down very quickly. Hence, all the shortening."

Janet licked dry lips and glanced towards the small figure, perched on the edge of one of the chairs.

"Lily." There was no response. "Lily."

Nurse Kelly gently shook her friend's shoulder, and the technician glanced up, surprised at being addressed. "What? Yes?"

"Lily..." Janet leaned forward, elbows on her knees, and spoke to the petite woman, who was as white as a sheet, and looked more than a little ill. "You were working with Bronagh right before she died weren't you?"

"Not right before." Forester said in a small voice.

Janet smiled, trying to get the woman to calm down. It wasn't working. Janet had known a lot of people to crack up simply by looking at a body. Several of her med-school class had run out of the room and thrown up the first time they had witnessed a post-mortem (Janet herself included). The people in forensics developed an almost cavalier attitude that many simply couldn't understand. Those who worked with microscopic viruses and bacteria simply didn't have the mental facilities to cope with viewing what used to be a living breathing Human being.

Janet made a mental note to have Forester report to the Base Counsellor as soon as possible, and see if Mary thought the Tech needed psychiatric help. In which case Doctor MacKenzie would be called.

"Lily, this is important." Janet pushed the loose sheaves of paper towards Forester. "Can you tell me what these mean?"

"Those were Bron's notes." Forester said in a hushed tone. Nurse Kelly put a reassuring arm around the tech's shoulders as Forester began to shake. "She... she always wrote in what looked like garbage." She pointed to one little picture in the margin of the page. "Like that. Apparently it's the Anglo-Saxon rune Ing. She because of its shape and what it meant, she used it to refer to DNA. Some concepts were too big for the alphabet she said..." Forester's voice trailed off as she dissolved into a sob.

Janet licked her lips briefly, thinking hard. Forester needed rest; she wouldn't be able to answer any questions in her current state. "Myra," she said to Nurse Kelly, "Maybe you should take Lily home."

"That won't be possible, I'm afraid." came General Hammond's familiar voice from the doorway. Janet turned to look at him, puzzlement on her face. In explanation, he said, "I've ordered a lock-down of the mountain until the killer is apprehended."

"Of course," Janet said, comprehending now. She turned back to Kelly. "See that she gets to her quarters."

Kelly nodded and gently pulled her friend to her feet and out the door, past Hammond, who stepped inside, ignoring the eyes of the entire virology staff on him.

"Progress, Doctor?" he asked her.

"Little to none. Sir." Janet said, lowering the sheet to the table top. "But then we've only just started."

Hammond seemed to get what the semi-belligerant looks directed at him by the viro-staff were trying to tell him. "I see." he said finally. "Contact me as soon as you have any more information." he ordered.

Janet nodded. "Yes sir."

The room was silent as the general exited, and the tension level didn't decrease even after he was gone. Janet sighed and started to hand around the sheets she did have.

"Grab a pad and pencil everyone." she said to the group. "I want to know everything that's on these pages, even if it looks like the recipe for rice-cake. Bronagh could have left just what we need on these pages. We need to know what they say. Before it's too late."

**

When Larrell walked in she appeared the epitome of calm and poise. In Jack's opinion, she was a very different person than the one that had stumbled through the Stargate a few days earlier, having tripped on the top step on the other end. The Tok'ra woman entered and had the door closed behind her by Teal'c, who followed her in, having been ordered to watch her once more now that she was under suspicion. Her eyes went around his rather spartan office (Jack only ever spent time in there to write reports, and did very little else in there, it had few signs to point to the personality of the occupant) before finally settling on Jack as she stood in front of his desk, hands loosely clasped behind her back. She looked perfectly in command.

Yes, a very different person. She had been acting so differently since Jacob had left to return to the Tok'ra.

"I am under the impression you wished to speak with me, Colonel O'Neill." she said in a low voice, smiling slightly.

Jack nodded at her, seeing the smile for what it was: a calculated attempt at putting him at ease. She was trying to affect his reactions to her. "Yes I did." he told her and gestured to the chair on the other side of the desk. "Take a seat, please."

Larrell inclined her head and lowered herself into a seat. Teal'c hovered slightly behind and to the side of her, keeping his eyes resting on her back.

"I assume," Jack started, shuffling papers to look as if he had some important information that he was divulging to her. "That you have heard about Doctor Lanigan's death."

Larrell nodded. "Indeed. It is a great loss." She made an odd little gesture with one hand, bringing it close to her solar plexus and splaying her fingers outwards. "We grieve with the Tau'ri for her demise."

"That's all well and good," Jack said, interrupting her at the tale end of her sentence. Larrell looked mildly annoyed, but did not speak, closing her mouth and contriving to look attentive. "But we want to know who killed her. We sorta take exception to people running around killing other people in this place."

"An odd statement to make," Larrell said softly, giving Jack an all-teeth smile. "For a warrior." For some reason, she found that thought amusing.

Jack narrowed his eyes slightly at her. "Oh, so sorry. Would you like me to rephrase that?" he said sarcastically.

Larrell either didn't notice the sarcasm, or she chose to ignore it, but she waved a dismissive hand in Jack's direction. "That is unnecessary." she said. "I believe I understood the point you were trying to relate."

"How wonderful for you." he said, and tried not to roll his eyes, glancing briefly at Teal'c. The Jaffa's expression was, as usual, inscrutable. "As we understand it, you were seen in the vicinity of the virology lab at the time of the murder." Larrell nodded. "May I ask what you were doing there?"

There was a long silence for a moment, Larrell didn't move. "Colonel O'Neill," She said. She stared at him intently, not blinking, hardly even breathing. "Am I under some sort of suspicion here?"

Jack sat back in his chair and regarded her for a moment. She had an air of one who had been mildly insulted about her, taking the accusation personally. Which, to be honest, she should. "I'll be honest with you, Larrell," he said finally, leaning forward once more. "You are an unknown quantity here. You may be Tok'ra, an ally of Earth, but, let's face it, you're an individual, and there are no other Tok'ra here. How do we know you aren't a spy that that fellow Cordesh?"

Larrell smiled tightly, as if consciously trying to regulate her response. "Colonel O'Neill," she said, "At the time of your Doctor's murder, as I understand your timescale, I was being accompanied by Daniel Jackson to your food hall. The entire time I accompanied him, I was not out of his sight." She blinked slowly, giving her an owlish appearance. "If you wish to corroborate this information then I advise you consult him."

"I will." Jack said, and made the point of scrawling the information on a sheet of paper that sat in front of him on his desk.

"May I enquire, Colonel O'Neill," Larrell said, after the silence had stretched on for several seconds, punctuated only by the scratching of Jack's pen. "As to what you believe my motives in this event could be?"

Jack looked up at her and said nothing, waiting for her to continue speaking without prompt.

"Doctor Lannagan-"

"Lanigan." corrected Jack automatically, emphasising the 'i'.

Larrell smiled, and Jack knew then that she had made the error deliberately. "Doctor Lanigan," she repeated, "Was researching the virus that affects a valued and important member of our movement, a liaison with your people..."

"I was under the impression that Jacob was the Tok'ra liaison to Earth." Jack said.

Larrell said, "He is. However, it was determined that Martouf..." Larrell's fingers flicked vaguely and she smiled. "Had the ability to relate with your species in a manner... different from many other Tok'ra." Her eyes locked with his and he knew exactly what she was saying.

Martouf was a sort of 'secondary' liaison to Earth, when Jacob was unavailable, because of his relationship with Sam. She was the ex-host of his mate, and since they had met on the Tok'ra's desert world (although they all seemed to be desert worlds) Jack had managed to get the impression that there was something more between them. He knew that the last time they had met the Tok'ra, something had gone on between the pair of them. She had been in his quarters. The Tok'ra had tried to hide it from him, but he had found out.

Jack felt slightly ill. "You were saying?" he muttered.

Larrell raised her head to break the gaze and her eyes flitted around the room, looking at the various obligatory framed commemorations on the wall, and odd bits and pieces picked up from one or two planets that hadn't been of use to the scientists, but looked interesting enough for him to stick on his desk. "She was researching this virus," she said, her tone somewhat brisker. "A virus that could have dire consequences for the Tok'ra if it were to ever fall into enemy hands. That has dire consequences even now. What possible reason could I have for killing her, Colonel O'Neill? I would be especially eager to know how I am meant to have accomplished this while with Doctor Jackson."

"I'm sure that anyone who wanted to kill someone badly enough would find a way." Jack said evenly.

"Colonel O'Neill," Larrell said. "Am I under arrest?"

Jack looked at her for a long moment, then sat back in his chair.

Larrell smiled tightly. "I thought not." She stood and turned towards the door, giving Teal'c a significant look. The Jaffa glanced to Jack, who nodded shortly to indicate that she was allowed to go.

"Larrell," Jack said before the woman reached the door. She turned and regarded him with a raised eyebrow. "Why do you keep calling me by name?" He spread his hands. "It's not as if there's more than one person talking to you here."

"It disturbs you, Colonel O'Neill?" was the question offered in response. Larrell tilted her head and raised her eyebrow in a manner so like Teal'c it was all Jack could do not to snigger.

"Not at all," he said, "Just curious."

Larrell lifted her chin slightly. "If you are indeed curious, Colonel O'Neill, perhaps you should ask Samantha Carter. I am certain she would be able to inform you."

She glanced at Teal'c, who took the hint and opened the door, allowing her to precede him into the corridor.

**

Message posted to Medical Forum, SGC Internal Network, at 09.42
From: J. Frasier (CMO)
Subject: URGENT -- Everyone read!

Ok, to get straight to the point: you all know about Bronagh Lanigan's death. She was working on a virus, and we have her notes about her research on the virus, but some of them just seem to be indecipherable. They're a sort of weird combination of scribbles and what looks like Greek characters (go figure). The viro staff have been able to figure out most of what she wrote, but there's this section we just can't figure out. I was hoping someone else might actually be able to figure it out.

The section is:

VR-SCRPHBD

Anyone got any ideas?

Janet

p.s. Will the person who keeps leaving the milk on the hotplate in the medical common room please knock it off? I despise black coffee, and right now I need a helluva lot of caffeine. Not to name names, but you know who you are.

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Message posted to Medical Forum, SGC Internal Network, at 10.23
From: L. Taylor (Triage)
Subject: re: URGENT -- Everyone read!

VR = virus/virus replication???

Sorry I can't help more. :(

Laura

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Message posted to Medical Forum, SGC Internal Network, at 11.43
From: P. Hardy (Surgery)
Subject: re: URGENT -- Everyone read!

Would this be to do with that Tok'ra in ICU? I heard he had a virus.

Paul

p.s. Milk on a hotplate??? Eww!

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Message posted to Medical Forum, SGC Internal Network, at 12.02
From: K. Thurman (Genetics)
Subject: re: URGENT -- Everyone read!

I think I know the answer to this one. Bronagh was over in genetics when Teal'c got bitten by that mother****er of a bug, and I saw some of her notes then on the virus that got him. (I was sorry to hear that she died. I don't suppose they've found the bastard that killed her have they? Hope they chuck em through to that volcano world SG9 saw last week).

Alright, from what I saw SCRP stands for Semi-Conservative Replication. So, I'd guess that HBD stood for Hybrid. And VR? Well, based on what the rest of it is, I'd say Laura's right. Probably virus replication.

So what's all that about huh?

Karen

**

The display was a flat screen, about the width of a person's forearm from wrist to elbow and about half that in height. It was clasped in Zeboary/Fenuz's hands as Tuya/Sanan and Saleil/Oritu gathered around her, looking at the geosonic scans they had only managed to get a few minutes earlier. The actually scanning device, which pulsed sound waves through the rock to determine the actual geological composition of the underground rock strata, was generally only used whenever the Tok'ra moved onto a new homeworld, or when they scouted for a new one, and they needed to make evaluations of the ground in less than a minute. The Tunnellers had become adept at reading and analysing scans in short amounts of time. At such a time as this, it was a vital skill. But Fenuz had started screaming at people about ten minutes earlier, demanding to know why no one could find a working geosonic. It had eventually been found in a crate labelled "medical supplies" by one of the Healers.

"There," Tuya said, reaching forward and tapping a section of the gridded display. The device automatically enlarged the area she had indicated and brought it up to full screen. Goa'uld characters started scrolling down the side of the screen, revealing information about that area. "There's sufficient mass there, with the density of organic tissue, to account for another body."

Fenuz nodded sharply. "See to it." she ordered.

Tuya spun on her heel and detached herself from the little group, barking orders to start working on one particular area of the collapsed structure. The area had been cleared of most of the free debris by that point, so she didn't have to jump over anything to make her way to the Tunnellers. A group of Technologists were doing some old fashioned mechanical welding of duratan struts, of the sort used in ships (and she was told had been canabalised from a damaged Teltak), trying to give the tunnel the extra support it needed. The Tunnellers had managed to sever the matrix a few hours earlier, in effect, cutting the tunnel's structure off from the rest of the facility. That meant that if more of the tunnel came down, it wouldn't affect any other corridors, but Tunnel Seven was by no means secure.

Saleil glanced at Fenuz. "Considering where the body is located, in a fairly dense region of collapse, it is unlikely that whoever it is remains alive."

Fenuz didn't spare a glance for the Tunnel Engineer Second, but he saw her grip tighten on the edge of the display so that her knuckles turned white. "I will leave no one in there."

Zeboary said to her symbiote, 'You're getting distressed. Allow me to take over.'

Fenuz replied, 'No.'

Saleil slowly nodded. "Of course not."

"Fenuz!" the call attracted Fenuz's attention instantly to where Rali/Mikkel was operating the geosonic. She made an exaggerated pointing gesture to the scanner. "We have another scan series."

Fenuz nodded briskly and turned her attention back to the display. It took her a few moments to locate the character on the screen that would bring up the new display.

Zeboary said, 'You're getting tired. Your judgement will be affected.'

Fenuz replied, 'I can't! We are Tunnel Senior. A tunnel has collapsed. People are dying.'

Zeboary was silent for a moment.

Zeboary sent:
{comprehension}

"This is interesting." Saleil said, indicating the screen.

There was the blue area which indicated the crystals that had collapsed under their own weight, and the surrounding rocks labelled in green. The two colours formed a colourful mix on the screen. It wasn't as if the Tok'ra could physically dig out the Tunnels, so the rocks they tunnelled through were incorporated in the structure of the walls, into the matrix. From what little thought Zeboary had given to it, she thought that the rock had not been processed properly, and so the weight was unevenly distributed. Or something. She had more thought about getting the trapped out than how the tunnels might have collapsed, but what she saw here would support her theory. Some areas of the Tunnel would have been weakened while others remained stable. Eventually such an inbalance would build up and the weakened areas would collapse. But if the strengthened areas remained intact, they would leave an air space within the damaged area. Which was exactly what the scan showed.

Fenuz tapped a few commands into the display. "I can't get a clear image of what's in the air pocket, but hopefully there are people in there."

Saleil frowned, peering at the scale on the bottom of the scan and then at the image itself. "There's a lot of rubble and collapsed crystal between us and the air pocket. It would take days to reach it, if we reinforce the wall structure as we progress. In addition, we have to recover those still trapped under rubble."

"I seriously doubt the trapped have that much time." Fenuz said gravely.

Zeboary said, 'You're worrying again. Clear your thoughts.'

"Senior?"

Fenuz closed her eyes briefly. "What is it, Helen?" she demanded, more than a little irritation in her voice.

The Tunnel Engineer student, who had been sharply informed that as a student there was nothing she could do to help and why didn't she go assist the Healer Senior and the Council in the Infirmary, looked somewhat timidly at Fenuz and Saleil, who glared at her belligerantly. "I think you need to see something." she told them.

Saleil glowered. "Now is not the time, Helen."

"But," Helen said, unnoticed to the pair, cradling something in her hands. "I really think you need to see this."

Fenuz sighed. "We are busy. Will it aid us in recovering our comrades?"

Helen looked amibiguous for a moment. "Well... not exactly."

"Then this conversation is terminated. Take it to someone else." Fenuz snapped, ignoring her host's chiding over her tone. She returned her attention to the scanner display.

Helen glared at the pair who now ignored her completely. "Perhaps," she said, knowing they weren't listening to her. "I shall." She turned around and strode in the direction of the Infirmary.

"What if we attempted to create a new Tunnel through the rubble?" Saleil asked. Indicating a possible path through the rock to the air pocket. "It would reinforce its own structure."

Fenuz shook her head, vetoing the idea. "Anyone still trapped inside there would be incorporated into the matrix." She gave Saleil a sidelong look. "Or have you forgotten what happened to Kattran?"

Saleil tried not to shudder. Before Cordesh's host had stood in front of a collapsing tunnel, what would happen to an individual if they were caught in a forming or collapsing matrix had only been theory. The Council had been rather nauseated to learn that Kattran was still on Reonak, his molecules mixed in with those of the rock. However they were rather pleased to know that Cordesh's fate had been the same.

"So we do not form a tunnel." Saleil stated.

Fenuz nodded and pointed at the red highlighted areas that had the density organic matter would. "Not until we have extracted all these people-" She broke off suddenly and glanced upwards.

Zeboary sent:
{query: noise}

Saleil stared at her. "What is it?" he asked, concerned.

Fenuz's eyes flicked around the tunnel before coming to rest on her Second. "I hear creaking." she whispered, the voice distortion making the statement sound even more disturbing.

One of the metal struts snapped under the weight of the rock it was meant to support, the Technologists who had been working on it jumped away, yelling at one another in incomprehensible (to Fenuz) terms.

Fenuz and Saleil glanced at each other at the same moment, coming to the same conclusion. Under other circumstances, they might have also be impressed by the synchrony of their bellow of "Everyone run!", but they were too busy joining in the dash for the tunnel exit as the crystals started crumbling and falling to the ground, followed closely by more greyish rocks, one of which fell on Fenuz's back and knocked her to the floor. She tried to lessen her impact with her arms, but only succeeded in cutting her palms on the crystalline shrapnel on the ground.

Saleil, seeing her fall, paused and backtracked, grabbing her upper arm in a firm grip to haul her to her feet. Zeboary, who had come to the fore after her symbiote had withdrawn in order to give over more attention to healing the host body, was about to snap at him for stopping, but was silenced almost immediately. Neither of them had noticed the rocks that had started falling directly above their heads.

**

The choas in the infirmary had died down somewhat, apart from one rather harrowing moment roughly an hour earlier. Sudden yelling from the Healers had indicated a problem, and from what Jacob and Selmak had been able to hear, an artery that the Healers had thought was fine had suddenly burst, sending the patient into a near death state. Both the Healers and the symbiote of injured technologist had worked frantically for several minutes, finally managing to stabilise him. Selmak had forced her host to pay attention to the patients they were responsible, rather than gawking at others. Hanne now moved among the wounded with a tired look on her face, and dried blood on her outer tunic.

Breia, with her infamous efficiency, had taken it upon herself to organise the people in the Tok'ra facility. She had doubled the number of sentries on the surface, evacuate the sections to either side of Tunnel Seven, and confined all non-essential personnel to gathering areas. Breia's definition of essential was rather narrow in these circumstances. Garshaw had, however, given her permission to do as she saw fit, so Jacob wasn't going to complain. He had learned of what Breia had been doing when a Council Aide had come up to him, shoved a datapad into his hands and run out on the room, doubtless on several errands from Breia. So now Jacob had to report this information to Garshaw.

It took him a few moments to figure out where she saw, as she was no where to be seen, but after one or two queries of the Healers, he had found she was in an adjoining room that had been hurridly converted to another Infirmary, and he entered to see her looking haggard, running a healing device over a man with severe lacerations, probably from broken crystal, the yellow glow making her appear drawn out.

Jacob managed to reach her side just as she deactivated the device and sagged visibly. He caught her under the elbow to support her as Selmak came to the surface.

"How long have you been doing that?" Selmak asked sharply, reprovingly, as Garshaw regained her equilibrium.

It was Yosef who responded, leaving Selmak and Jacob to conclude that she'd been working longer than was probably wise. "Does it matter?" Yosef asked tiredly.

"If you collapse, of course it does." Selmak said firmly, and guided Yosef over to one of the vacant crystal chairs by the wall. The High Counsel slowly sank down onto it, exhaustion in her expression. "Leave the healing to the Healers, Yosef, at least for now." Selmak told her friend.

Yosef ignored that and looked up at Selmak patiently. "Was there a reason you came to find me? Other than act like my mother?"

Selmak grinned and relinquished to Jacob, who coughed self-consciously, and extended the datapad he had been given towards her. "Report from Breia. We're still waiting for the latest from the Techs and the Tunnellers."

"Perhaps I can aid?" came a soft voice from a meter or so away. Jacob and Yosef turned in unison to see Helen standing with her hands clutched together over her midsection, holding something tightly.

"Helen," Yosef said in surprise. "I would have thought you would be confined with other non-essentials." There was an element of humour there that she didn't seem to be able to surpress. Probably chuckled at Breia's definition of non-essential.

Helen offered a small smile. "I was working with a group of Technologists and other Engineering students, theorising on the reason for the tunnel collapse, and we found this." Helen opened her hands and held out what Jacob could only recognise as a crystal.

Yosef dropped the datapad to her lap and took the crystal, turning it over in her hands. She wore a serious expression that Jacob normally associated with her symbiote, and the solemnity she was well known for. "What is this?" she demanded.

"It's a crystal, one of those used to create tunnels." Helen said. She fidgeted a moment. "I tried to tell the Senior and Second this, but they were busy and I-"

"Helen." Jacob interrupted. "Cliff notes version?"

Helen nodded and took a deep breath before continuing. "It's a crystal, but if you look carefully, it's badly damaged."

Helen pointed and Yosef peered closely at the crystal. Jacob leaned forward and was able to see jagged lines running through the blue crystal. Yosef narrowed her eyes for a moment, then her hands tightened briefly on its faceted surface. There was a moment when nothing happened, then there was a crunching sound, and the crystal broke into three pieces along the faults. The shards chinked together in Yosef's hands.

"Very badly." Yosef pronounced.

"Well," Helen said, "The deal is that if a crystal like this was used in creating even part of Tunnel Seven, then the matrix, the supporting structure, of the tunnel would have been so badly created that it would collapse, just like it did."

Yosef's face was hard, and the expression didn't change as she closed her eyes briefly, giving way to Garshaw. "So you believe this is the reason for the collapse." Garshaw paused, her eyes flaring as she gave Helen an intense look. "Is there reason to suspect deliberate sabotage of these crystals? That they were planted in the tunnel to cause this damage?"

Helen shifted nervously. "Um... well, I suppose that it could be accidental. That the Engineer wasn't paying lots of attention, but there were a lot more like this... so..." Helen trailed off under Garshaw's scrutiny.

Garshaw frowned. "Thank you, Helen, return to your station." she ordered brusquely, and Helen nodded before leaving.

Garshaw juggled the shards in her hand before looking up at Jacob. "Do you think that this was an accident, my friend?" she asked.

Jacob sighed. "I don't know." he said, honestly. "I hope so."

"As do I."

Garshaw was not happy about either option. If it was an accident, Tunnellers were negligent. If it was deliberate, they had a spy in their ranks. Neither was appealing.

Yosef asked, 'So who do we trust?'

Garshaw sighed mentally. 'Whoever we think we can.'

"Look who just walked in." Jacob said softly, catching Garshaw's attention and bringing her head up.

Breia, her hair mussed (which said she was rather harried), strode in, and swept the chamber with her eyes. Spotting Garshaw and Jacob, she strode across the room to them.

Yosef said, 'One wonders why Dalir doesn't take control more often.'

Garshaw replied, 'One of life's eternal mysteries.'

"Breia," Jacob said, looking at the woman. "Come to request more sentries?"

Breia ignored him. "There is a situation." she announced. "There has been a second collapse in Tunnel Seven. Now there are several Tunnel Engineers trapped in the rubble."

Garshaw fought the urge to yell 'again?'. This was not what she needed. She barely managed to supress the shout.

Yosef sent:
{patpat. good garshaw}

"Ok, everyone who's not busy with the injured here, move it to Tunnel Seven. NOW!" Hanne's extremely loud voice echoed throughout the room, and probably carried a good way down the corridor. There was a sudden increase in the number of people running for the exit.

Aldwin had entered to room a few moments earlier while Hanne had been speaking and had approached Breia, speaking rapidly to her in low tones. The woman's eyes widened and she brought her chin up sharply and dismissed Aldwin with a wave of her hand.

"High Counsel," Breia said formally, loudly, gaining Garshaw's attention instantly. "We have a problem."

"Now what?" Garshaw couldn't stop Yosef from allowing the words to slip out. Garshaw delivered the mental equivalent of a clip about the ear. "What is it?" she rephrased.

Breia, who normally would have raised an eyebrow at Garshaw's words, completely ignored them. "Operatives on board two of the Goa'uld Nekhebet's motherships report that the vessels changed course approximately four standard hours ago. Their new destination is this world."

"Shit."

Garshaw glanced at Jacob as he uttered the term. When he had first uttered it upon joining the Tok'ra, she and Yosef had been unable to work out its meaning, but had since come to understand that it meant the situation was bad. Not that she needed help to work that out from context.

"What else can go wrong?" Garshaw snapped and dropped the crystal shards on the floor brushing her hands off and picking up the datapad still on her lap. Then she dashed for the exit.

Yosef sent:
{image: skirt tearing while running}

'Now is not the time for inappropriate humour, host of mine.' Garshaw told her.

**

Saleil was the first to awaken in the dimly lit tunnel. He couldn't quite see where the illumination was coming from, as his eyes didn't seem to be focusing properly, but he could make out two or three slumped over figures in the small air space with him. The first attempt at moving produced excrutiating pain in the region of his lower ribs, and a word or three of protest from his symbiote.

Oritu said, 'STOP MOVING!!!!!'

Saleil didn't object, and remained motionless until the pain suddenly slackened off.

Oritu sent:
{satisfaction}

Oritu said, 'There. I've put a neural block on that area until I manage to repair the bone, but I'm a little busy, so it's going to take a while. Try not to get hit by any falling rocks.'

Saleil chuckled mentally, not trusting his ribs to remain painless if he did so physically. 'Trust me, I plan to avoid them.'

Oritu sent:
{hmph}

Saleil rolled off his back and onto his side, noting that he had narrowly avoided being pinned by a slab of rock. He started crawling towards the nearest of the slumped figures, Oritu grumbling the whole time about the foolishness of standing directly under a cave-in.

As he reached the figure, he quickly recognised it as Keertif/Nevek, and felt for a pulse. There was none.

Oritu asked, 'How did he die?'

Saleil couldn't see very well in the light, or lack of, but, after a moment, Oritu altered a few things in his visual cortex and he could see very clearly. A large piece of stone, sharpened to a point, perhaps not more than half a handspan wide, had been driven through Keertif's back, just between the shoulder blades. It had severed his spinal cord, probably damaging the brainstem and major internal organs, no doubt killing him instantly. Saleil just hoped that Nevek had died just as quickly, so that he hadn't had to suffer.

Oritu sent:
{mourning, sadness}

Saleil couldn't stand the open, soulless appearance of Keertif's eyes, and so spared a moment to close the eyelids, before he had to look away.

Oritu said, 'Over there.'

Oritu sent:
{indication of area}

Saleil managed to pick himself up to his hands and knees this time, noting to himself that he felt stronger. Oritu was apparently doing his job.

Oritu said, 'Full time job. And I'm not getting paid nearly enough.'

Saleil interrupted:
{panic}

He could see the face of the next one he approached. It was Zeboary, her eyes closed and body still. He couldn't tell whether or not she was breathing. He pressed two fingers to her neck and desperately searched for a pulse.

Oritu sent:
{imperative: control your feelings}

Saleil replied, 'You first.'

Oritu, uncomfortable, said, 'Her pulse is slow, but steady and strong. Undoubtedly, Fenuz is repairing her injuries. Check the last.'

Saleil started to move in that direction, but a groan from the final figure brought him up short. "Who is it?" he demanded aloud.

"Natien," said the voice, and Saleil could make out the Technologist's face in the dim light. He appeared to have a gash on his forehead, but appeared to be otherwise uninjured. "What happened?"

"Another Tunnel collapse." Saleil replied, to an exasperated sigh from Natien.

"I wouldn't have guessed." The Technologist said drily. "I'm fine, by the way."

Oritu said, 'Check Zeboary's pockets.'

Saleil did so, and quickly came up with what Oritu had been looking for. It was hexagonal, and not very thick. It was a low range comlink, which all Seniors possessed for emergency communication. However, they were rarely, if ever used, because they gave off a low level electromagnetic field, and they had no particular wish for the Goa'uld to detect that field. Hoping that at least one of the other Seniors had their comlink switched on, Saleil tapped the back of the comlink.

"This is Hanne." came the curt voice of the Healer Senior.

"This is Tunnel Second, Saleil." he said, and waited for her response.

"Saleil?" The voice appeared confused. "How did you get this comlink? Never mind that." Hanne cut herself off. "Where are you?"

Saleil could hear the chatter of what sounded like dozens of people in the background. Hopefully, rescue workers just outside the newest collapse. "Inside an air pocket with Zeboary/Fenuz, and Natien/Delyn." Natien glanced up at the mention of his name, but said nothing.

"Saleil, wait a moment, Selmak and Garshaw are here, I'll pass you over to them." There was silence for a moment, with the background chatter all that could be heard. The voice that came on next was heavily distorted.

Oritu said, 'Tell her to stop that.'

Saleil raised the comlink to his mouth. "Master Garshaw, I can't make out your words. This is not a very high powered comlink, if you'll recall."

There was a pause. "Saleil, tell us your situation." came the undistorted voice. It sounded like Yosef, but the inflection was pure Garshaw. Saleil quickly explained and waited for Garshaw to speak again. When she did, she sounded tired. "We have additional developments of concern." she said. "The Goa'uld are on their way here. The Tunnel Engineers are needed to leave and set up the facility on the new homeworld. We cannot continue to try and dig you out. And we are told that we cannot collapse these Tunnels."

Saleil's hand dropped from his mouth and he looked at Natien, who blinked slowly.

"It's not like we have many options." the Technologist said slowly.

Saleil raised the comlink again. "We understand. Send the Tunnellers to the new homeworld and collapse the rest of the matrix. If the three of us can get out of here, we will. But we will not allow ourselves to be captured by the Goa'uld. If you contact the Weapons Technologist-"

"She already has the plasma charges prepared." Garshaw said. There was honest regret in her voice. "They are set to explode not long after we depart. You will have little time."

Natien rubbed a hand over his face, and wound up covering it in more rockdust-and-sweat grime than it had been before. Neither Saleil nor Oritu caught what it was that he muttered, although Saleil got the distinct impression that it was to a nameless female deity.

"We'll try our best." Saleil promised.

"We know." Garshaw said. "Good luck."

With that, the comlink went dead, coinciding with a moan from Zeboary, who hadn't moved an inch, but was apparently coming around.

"Zeb?" he asked her, resting a hand on her shoulder. "Are you alright?"

"You idiot." she snarled, still not opening her eyes.

Oritu said, 'That wasn't what I expected.'

Zeboary was opening her eyes, and slapped irritably at his hands. "You should have taken the opportunity to escape." she said.

Saleil blinked. "I couldn't leave you there."

Zeboary make an incoherent noise and accepted his help in getting into a sitting position. Natient supported her from the other side to make certain she didn't fall over again.

"I heard what Garshaw said." Zeboary said, then smiled ruefully. "Hearing is apparently the last to go and the first to return." She took a deep breath. "I was thinking. If there's an intact crystal around here, we might just get out of here after all."

"I don't follow." admitted Saleil.

"Of course you don't," Zeboary said, in a slightly condescending manner. "You aren't senior."

Oritu said, 'She'd make a great Councillor. She's got that arrogance down pat.'

"Search." Zeboary instructed the pair of them sharply, and waved them away, starting to sift through the sharded crystal around her, ignoring the fresh slices they cut on her palms and fingers.

"Could you be more obvious?" muttered Natien as they moved across the small space to another pile of crystalline shrapnel.

"Shut up." Saleil told him viciously, and started sifting through the debris.

**

Janet Frasier had retired to the virology lab, after spending a long time trying to stabalise Martouf's vitals, so that the EEG readings stopped resembling a piece of string that a kitten was constantly batting at; sending it all over the place. Eventually, after stats had started blurring together, she had handed off to Doctor Warner and had come down to the virology lab, so see if she could offer any assistance.

From the expression on Susan Cole's face, there hadn't been much progress. That, and the fact that Janet had entered just in time to hear her make a noise of utter digust and see her hit her head on the stainless steel surface of the table.

Since then, she and the viro staff had been going over all of the test results, trying desperately to find something out, and looking through Bronagh's now translated notations.

"I get the feeling something's missing." Janet said finally, as she sat back and rubbed the muscles at the back of her neck, trying to get the kinks out of them.

"Yeah, the answer." Susan Cole said, stabbing her pen down onto a pad of paper, turning a dot of an exclamation mark into a hole that punctured three sheets.

"Not that," Janet said, "I mean in a more literal sense."

"You what?" Cole said.

Janet pointed to one particular form. "Here... three different samples."

Cole leaned over and tried to peer at the paper as best she could. "What about them?" she asked, curious.

"Well, I could be wrong," Janet was rifling through the mounds of paper surrounding her. "But these three samples... I don't have any test results for them."

"Hmm..." Cole slipped off her stool and crossed to Janet's side to read the figures on the sheet better. "Clerical error?"

"Somehow I don't think so..." Janet said.

"They would have gone to cytology." Cole jerked a thumb in the direction of the phone. "I can give them a call. See if they know what's happened to them."

Janet finished rummaging and nodded, having come up empty.

Cole crossed to the wall, and lifted the phone off its cradle, punching in the number for the switchboard. "This is Viro Tech Susan Cole. Can you put me through to the cytology lab? Yes, I know it's just down the hall, just get them would you?" Susan briefly covered the mouthpiece of the phone and sighed exaggeratedly. "Mouthy switchboard operators." Then she returned her attention to the phone.

"That cyto? Hi, is Doctor Roth there?" Cole twisted her fingers in the phone cord as she listened. "Great, get her for me? Yeah, I'll wait." More finger twisting. Then, "Hey, Karen. It's Susan in viro... yeah, I'm good. Look, did you get two..." Janet waved her hand to get Susan's attention, then held up three fingers. "Oh, sorry, three samples from Bronagh Lanigan about two, three days or so ago...?" She paused listening for a moment. "Yeah... numbers..." Susan started back towards the table, reaching for the files, but was brought up short by the length of the phone cord.

"Karen, just a second, k?" Cole took the phone away from her ear and held it away from her body, and was able to stretch a little bit further to grab the files. "I thought you were going to put a longer cord on this thing!" she yelled at someone on the other side of the lab.

"Supplies were all out." came the response.

"Yeah, well, next time try that hardware store in town."

"Which one?"

Cole rolled her eyes. "The one with the blue doors." She went back to the phone. "Still there? Yeah, I've got the sample numbers right here. Ok, they are... M-252-2145... uh... L-413-6871 and... lastly..." Cole's eyes searched the file in her hand, looking for that last set of numbers. "M-252-2149." She looked up from the file, as if looking for the speaker on the other end. But her eyes were unfocused, like people's eyes tended to get when they were speaking on the phone. "So you got them? Cool. Yeah, if you don't mind. Ok, see you in a minute. Bye."

Cole hung up the phone and turned to Janet. "Karen Roth's on her way over with the test results." She folded her arms as she wandered back over to Janet's side. "Think they're important?" she asked.

Janet shrugged. "Probably not, but we can't afford to leave any stone unturned."

"Now you're bringing out the cliches." Cole said, and rolled her eyes. "We're doomed."

Janet smiled and turned her attention towards the door as a woman in her early thirties breezed in, pushing her glasses a little further upwards on the bridge of her nose in what looked like an unconscious gesture. In her arms she carried three brown envelopes, sealed with a pieces of sellotape.

"God, you're lazy." Doctor Karen Roth said. "Cyto's only fifty odd meters down the corridor."

"These boots weren't made for walking." Cole said without a smile.

"Yeah well, these were buried in the wrong pidgeon hole," Roth said. "Probably why they didn't get to you."

"Well, now they're here," Janet said, holding out her hands expectantly. "Let's have a look."

Roth nodded and dropped the envelopes onto the table and picked up the topmost one. "M-252-2145." she read from the label on the front.

"This is the sample of the virus from the host blood stream." Roth said, unsealing an envelope and tipping out the electron micrographs. She passed them to Janet, who spread the sheets on the table top.

"This," the Doctor said, dropping the now empty envelope and unsealing the next one. "Is L-413-6871 and the biopsy of symbiote epidermal tissue." She opened the final envelope. "And this is the sample of neural tissue from the host, number M-252-2149."

Janet took the last one and peered at it. "Karen, is this right?"

Roth was folding up the envelopes and sticking them in her lab coat pocket. "Is what right?"

"Well, this looks like the virus, but there are some structural differences."

Cole took the micrograph from Janet and peered at it. Then she dropped it, and picked up a scan from the first envelope, and one from the second and compared them. Her eyes widened and her jaw dropped.

"Oh my god!" she suddenly yelled.

"What?" chorused Roth and Janet, who had both been startled by the tech's sudden yell.

"These two... The virus... this hormone.... they're virtually identical!" Cole said exitedly. "And if there are specific chemoreceptors on the-"

"Susan, slow down." Janet said, holding up a hand. "Now, deep breaths, and tell me what you think's going on."

Cole did as she was told and carefully explained her theory. Janet and Roth's jaws slowly dropped throughout the explanation, and when the tech had finished, Roth breathed, "My God. Hardly simple but..."

"Absolutely goddamn ingenious." Janet finished. "No wonder Bronagh couldn't figure out why the virus itself wasn't harmful. Or how it replicated."

"She did." Roth said. "She just wrote it down so cryptically, and she was killed before she could tell anyone."

"We have to tell General Hammond." Cole said.

Simultaneously, the three women dove for the phone.

**

What was left of the quarantine suit lay in a shrivelled, melted lump on the briefing room table. There was the smell of burnt rubber in the air that Hammond knew would linger for days.

"Talk to me, Major." he instructed.

"We have a furnace on twenty six that medical use for burning clinical waste." Major Castleman said. "But when this was burnt, it apparently gave off toxic fumes and set off half a dozen alarms. Apparently that happened shortly after the murder. Took them this long to find the problem."

Hammond poked part of the rubbed of the suit with the end of the pen he was holding. It disintegrated under the pressure. "Let me guess," he said, "There's not much chance of getting much evidence from this thing."

Castleman sighed. "Not only was it mixed in with a lot of other waste, it's been burnt to a crisp. If there was any evidence, it's probably gone. Maybe not, but-"

"You wouldn't be willing to bet on it." finished Hammond. Castleman nodded in agreement.

"Well, any idea who put it there?" asked Daniel, who had been speaking to Jack when Hammond had summoned him to the briefing room, and so had come with him.

Castleman shook his head. "The security camera footage was degraded, just like all the others. Whatever sort of scrambler this person has, it's a damned effective one."

Hammond frowned, thinking. After a moment, he said, "Colonel, did you interview Larrell?"

Jack nodded. "Yes, sir. She... uh... she was acting really strange, but she says that Daniel here was with her at the time of the murder." All three turned towards Daniel, waiting for his corroboration of the events.

"Well, she was telling the truth." Daniel said. "I did accompany her to the cafeteria. She was never out of my sight."

"So, Larrell is off the list of potential suspects." Hammond said.

Jack grimaced. "Actually, she was our only suspect. We," He glanced at Castleman. "Haven't made much progress in the investigation, and none of the security footage that Carter and the techs have gotten their hands on have shown anything of use to us."

"So in other words," Daniel said, "We have less than nothing."

Hammond sighed. "I do not like having a murderer run around on base, gentlemen."

"We've confined all non-essential personnel to the on-base quarters." Castleman said. "And we've got security personnel keeping a constant eye out for anything unusual but..."

"The killer could be among them." finished Jack. "We just don't know enough."

"Major, take the... remains of the suit down to forensics." Hammond ordered. "See if they can find something. Anything."

Castleman nodded, picked up the tray on which the baked outfit was lying and headed out of the room.

"Colonel-" Hammond started to say, but was cut off by the ringing of his office phone. He waved to Daniel and Jack to take seats at the large briefing table, and saw them moving to sit as he entered his office and picked up the phone.

"Hammond." He barked into the phone.

"Sir, it's Doctor Frasier-" Frasier's sentence broke off suddenly, and there was a scuffling noise in the background. "Dammit Susan! GET OFF!!!"

"Doctor?!" Hammond snapped down the phone.

"Sorry, sir!" Frasier said, and Hammond could hear a voice distinctly say 'ow!' in the background, just after what sounded like someone giving someone else a vicious kick. "Sir! I think we've found something."

"About what, Doctor?" asked Hammond, throwing an exasperated look at Jack and Daniel.

"The virus! I think we've got a way to help Martouf!"

Hammond raised his eyebrows. "Good news, Doctor. How?"

"Well, sir, it's a little hard to explain over the phone."

"Get down to the briefing room, Doctor." He ordered, and heard Frasier's 'yes sir' as he put the phone down.

"Doctor Frasier," he said to Daniel and Jack as he left his office. "Has apparently made some progress."

"Well, that's good." Daniel said, "I mean, if she can figure out a way to help Martouf..."

"Won't the Tok'ra be pleased." Jack said, and Hammond could detect a slightly scornful tone in his voice. He ignored it as he sat down to wait for the Doctor.

Seven minutes later, Hammond was ready to kill O'Neill, or at least throw him through the Gate to a volcano world, if he didn't stop drumming his fingers on the table top. At eight minutes, he said,

"Colonel, knock it off."

The drumming stopped and the scrawling on the pad started. At nine minutes, Janet Frasier finally appeared, saying,

"I'm sorry I took so long."

Hammond turned to see Frasier jog into the room. Her face was flushed, as if she'd been running, and she had a file clutched in her hands tightly, afraid to let it go.

"But for some reason the elevator wasn't working, and stairwell three was packed." Janet said as she dropped into her seat and made an effort to catch her breath.

"Wait a minute, the elevator's not working?" Daniel asked, then sighed. "Great." Daniel's office was seven floors away.

"Doctor," Hammond said. "Please explain what it is you have found out about the virus."

"Ok," Janet said lacing her fingers together and leaning forward on the table, having now recovered somewhat. "Here's what we've been able to find out, and I'll try and simplify it for you as much as I can." She took a deep breath, to gather her thoughts, then started.

"Bronagh Lanigan was at a loss to explain why a virus that appeared to be harmless was having such devastating effects. And why it didn't seem to be replicating itself, but the effects were getting worse. We took a look at the virus itself. We used an electron microscope, peered at it, and compared it to a variety of other samples taken from both host and symbiote. We found that the virus resembles, in structure, a hormone produces by the symbiote that prompts cell division within the symbiote."

"All of which means?" prompted Jack.

Janet wagged a finger chidingly at Jack. "I'm getting to that, Colonel. When the cell divides, the DNA in the cell splits. Now, normally, there are spare nucleotides in the cell that join the two separate strands, and complete the DNA."

She looked around the table, and saw eyes starting to glaze over, so she hurried through the rest of the technical part of her lecture. "From what we can tell, when cell division starts, the virus breaks down and mimics the free nucleotides. They attach to the DNA in one of the two new cells, and create a hybrid cell. This is semi-conservative replication. Or a variation on it. It's this hybrid cell that produces a new, nastier virus, which leaves the symbiote and enters the host's bloodstream."

"So it's not actually attacking the symbiote." At least Daniel seemed to get what she was talking about. "It's attacking the host, and is taking the symbiote with it."

Janet nodded. "But it replicates in the symbiote, which is why it only affects Blended people."

"All of this is very fascinating, Doctor," Hammond said, even though Janet could tell by the tone of his voice that he had barely followed what she had been saying.

'Oh well, this is how Sam feels when she talk technical, I suppose.' Janet thought with a mental sigh.

"But what are we meant to do about it?" he finished.

"Considering that the original virus resides in the host bloodstream, and the nastier virus seems to burn itself out after a few hours after wreaking as much havoc as possible..." Janet trailed off.

Jack narrowed his eyes. "Why do I get the impression we're not going to like this?" he asked rhetorically.

"We believe," Janet said, speaking slowly. "That the only way to stop the production of the hybrid virus is to remove any way for the original virus to replicate. That means," she said, "That in order to save both of them, or either of them, we're going to have to separate host and symbiote."

**

Sam had been rather surprised when Janet had summoned her from her work on the security footage and ordered her to the ICU, then told her what they were going to do and handed her a quarantine suit and a healing device.

"Your job is twofold." Janet had said as Sam was pulling on the legs of her suit. "One, you have to use the healing device on Martouf when we removed the symbiote. Two..." here Janet had sighed. "You'll probably have to convince Lantesh to vacate the premises."

"You sound like the Colonel." Sam had said, to which Janet had just raised an eyebrow.

And now she was standing in the ICU, standing about a meter or so away from the bed, watching Janet approach Martouf to try and speak to him.

They had set up a tank near the bed, similar to the one that they had set up for Junior when Teal'c had been bitten by that alien insect. It was the only way they could let the symbiote survive outside the host. No one else was willing to host Lantesh, and they weren't even sure it was wise to allow the symbiote to interact with any Humans. They knew too little about the virus.

"Lantesh," Janet spoke in as loud a voice as she could muster without actually shouting. "Lantesh, we have to speak to you. Lantesh!"

Eyes opened barely a slit, and there was a characteristic ghostly yellow glow that flared briefly. "What do you want, Doctor?" Lantesh said, forcing out each word with what sounded like incredible effort. His words were slurred and slowed. "I am rather... busy."

"We have a solution." Janet said. "But it is... risky."

"We are dying." Lantesh croaked out.

Sam felt her throat close up, and she swallowed repeatedly to try and open it again, so that she could breathe properly, even in the stale, disinfectant-riddled air in the quarantine suit.

"We know." Janet said. "You will not like our solution, though." She hesitated, then plunged on with what she was saying. "You have to leave your host."

Lantesh just stared at her for a very long moment. Just stared. "What?" he finally said.

"The virus can only reproduce when there is a symbiote present. We hope that if you are removed, then it will stop reproducing, and you will eventually heal."

"You hope?" repeated Lantesh. "You do not sound entirely certain."

"The damage to your host is extensive." Janet said. "He may not survive."

"I could have told you that." Lantesh said, some characteristic arrogance slipping into his tone unconsciously. "I will not comply. The risk is too great. The separation may kill us."

"We daren't summon the other Tok'ra to assist in easing the separation." Janet told him. "We afraid that we'd expose them to the virus, that it would jump to them. We're still worried that Larrell's going to catch something."

"I assume you're keeping her as far away from here as possible." Lantesh said gravely.

"Of course." Janet said. "But because we can't expose you to other Tok'ra, we have to ask you to try and separate yourself from Martouf on your own."

"You have no way of removing me yourself?" Lantesh asked.

Janet cleared her throat self-consciously. "We haven't had a very good track record with that."

"No doubt." Lantesh said. "But I will not do as you ask."

Janet swallowed, her mouth and throat dry. "Why not?"

"Because the chances of my host dying increases as soon as I leave him. If I remain, I may yet heal him. As none of you will likely volunteer to host me, my chances of dying also increase. In short," Lantesh said, glaring at the Doctor. "It would be a Very Bad Thing."

Janet straightened and turned to give Sam a significant look. As if to say, your turn. Sam nodded in response to the unspoken command and approached, coming as close to Lantesh as she could.

"Samantha," he said, sounding surprised. "You're here."

"Where else would I be?" she asked, smiling and leaning down towards him.

"You weren't here last time we were awake." he said. "We were worried."

"It's not me you should be worried about." she said softly. "It yourself. And Martouf. You're both dying. You have to leave him."

"Samantha, you cannot ask me to do that." Lantesh started to say.

"Please Lantesh, if it works, you'll reblend later. If it doesn't work-"

"I will either have a new host, or I will die." Lantesh said. "This is not pessimism or arrogance, Samantha, but a simple biological fact."

"Lantesh-"

"If I leave," Lantesh said. "I could live, but Martouf will almost certainly die. If he survives... Samantha, his mind is damaged, he is no longer sure of who he is."

"Lantesh, if you have ever trusted me... if you have ever cared for me, you have to do this." Sam tightened her grip on his shoulders and leaned closer. "Please, I can't lose you. Do this."

"Samantha..."

"What happened before..." she continued, as if she hadn't heard him, "I ran from you and Martouf because I was afraid, I was confused, but believe me, I've been doing a lot of thinking over the last few days. And I know I can't lose you. This is the only way the two of you can survive."

Lantesh stared at her for such a long moment that Sam was worried that something had happened to him. Finally, he said, "Turn Martouf onto his side. It will make the separation easier."

Janet made several sharp gestures to her nurses, and three of them moved forward to obey Lantesh's instruction. As they did so, Lantesh said, "You must also keep the head motionless." It was Janet who took up that task.

Sam was to take hold of Lantesh as he left his host.

She wanted to kiss him, tell him she knew it would be alright, that he just had to be. But all she could do was steel herself, gritting her teeth and keeping one hand on Martouf's shoulder. Lantesh gave her one final look, and she could almost hear him say 'you'd better be right about this'.

That was all the warning she, and the other medics, got. Then Martouf's mouth opened and he suddenly jerked. The medical team were a little slow and almost lost their grips on him, but after a second, they had all gripped firmly, and all got a worried expression on their faces. They were used to doing something when a patient was ill, but all they could do now was stand by and watch.

Sam bit her tongue as the head of the symbiote started to peek out of the mouth. Being ill was a really bad idea-

//... standing over her father and Sarouche, unable to tear her eyes away... a gentle voice telling she had to move away... watching as the small pinkish symbiote leapt from the old host to the new...//

-Sam blinked. Having memory flashes was a very bad idea. Especially when some of her Jolinar's memories conspired to make them very realistic. She'd hate to think she'd be experiencing memories like that of her entire life.

'Uh Sam...' said a little internal voice. 'Lantesh?'

Lantesh had managed to wriggle a little further out, obviously weak. Sam slipped her hand underneath the main body of the symbiote to support it. She couldn't really feel much of a texture, except for the slimy coating of the symbiote, probably mucus. About a hand span of the symbiote was protruding from Martouf's mouth, and no more seemed to be coming, and Sam thought for a second that maybe Lantesh had somehow got stuck (ridiculous as that thought was). Then the symbiote wiggled a little and slithered completely out of Martouf's mouth, blood welling up in the host's mouth after him.

As Sam tried to get a grip that was secure, but not too tight, on the symbiote, a nurse stepped forward with a suction tube, to remove the blood and stop Martouf from choking on it. Then he was rolled onto his back once more and Janet began hurridly checking him over.

Lantesh coiled loosely around her wrist and turned beady eyes towards her. Sam fought down her automatic revulsion and gently carried Lantesh to the tank they had prepared and released Lantesh into it. The symbiote almost immediately sank to near the bottom. It (somehow, Sam couldn't think of Lantesh as a 'he' now) remained motionless in the tank, only the dull red glow of its eyes giving any indication that Lantesh was still alive. It's skin was a pale grey and slightly mottled. It looked like it was dying. A pretty accurate description, as far as Sam was concerned.

"Sam!" Janet's call reached her and she turned to find the Doctor extending the healing device towards him. "He's got several major organs about to fail. Heal him, now."

Sam wasn't about to argue with that order and she stepped up to the side of the bed, hoping that the suit wouldn't prevent her from operating the device. She took a deep breath and held it, reaching out to hold her hand over Martouf's body. The dull orange glow sprang up with greater ease than it had in the past; probably because she had spent so much time recently practicing its usage. As before, Sam could almost 'see' in her minds eyes, the damaged systems, and injuries, on a cellular level. She couldn't see the virus though, just the damage it caused.

She set her mind on healing Martouf, but realised that as quickly as she was healing, other systems would fail, she spent what felt like an eternity going through the body, healing damage, but knew it wasn't enough. This level of damage was beyond what could be cured with a hand device.

She must have passed out for a second, because the next thing she knew was one of Janet's larger male nurses was catching her under her arms and keeping her from hitting the floor. The room spun around her.

"Jesus, Sam," Janet was saying as she took the healing device off her friend. "You were doing that for nearly ten minutes. There was that much damage?"

"Yes," Sam responded, her own voice sounding odd to her. "But there's too much. I can't heal it all. He's going to die unless we find another way."

Janet's face was ashen. She swallowed and looked up to speak to the nurse still supporting Sam. "Take Major Carter to a room to rest-"

"No," Sam said sharply. "I want to stay here."

Janet looked like she was about to object, but she had gone over that same arguement with Sam so many times over the last week or so that she could probably plot out the whole thing in her head. It always resulted the same: Janet eventually relented and allowed Sam to remain. She grabbed a chair from the side of the room and set it next to the bed, then nodded to her nurse to help Sam to the seat. She reached up to stroke his forehead with one hand, and held onto his hand with her other, oblivious to the medics that milled around them.

**

The last body disappeared through the rippling surface of the Stargate, to join the fifteen others whose cultural mandates dictated that their bodies could not be vaporised. The eighteen whose society had different views on disposal of the dead had had their bodies eliminated so that they could never be found by the Goa'uld and revived with a sarcophagus.

Disposing of the Tok'ra dead was not a pleasant, or easy task.

Those whose cultures demanded that bodies be preserved, whether to serve as a monument to a person's existence, or to serve as a vessel to the afterlife, had their remains sent to a world the Tok'ra had discovered almost by accident. Or, rather than the Tok'ra, the Qeqete, Hanne's people. Until the she had become host to Olayinka, the Tok'ra had kept their dead in a special chamber, which would be collapsed, with the bodies inside it, when the Tok'ra moved on. Many found the thought of sending the body to a final resting place, a planet deep within an inpenetrable nebula and filled with a toxic atmosphere, rather then having their bones disturbed by being incorporated into rock, much more pleasant.

Selmak noted, clinically, that Hanne looked shaken. She still had dried blood on her clothes and embedded around her fingernails, even though both she and Jacob knew that Hanne had been trying to wash it out.

"This is the part I hate." Hanne said, reaching up to smooth her hair down in an unconscious gesture. "Admitting that as a Healer I've failed. That these people died."

Jacob looked at Hanne, then at the still active event horizon. "It's not your fault."

"No, it's whoever caused the tunnel collapse." Hanne said viciously.

Jacob chose not to comment on Hanne's conviction that there was foul play, and instead allowed Selmak to say, "All those people we just sent through the Chaapa'ai believe that even though they are dead, they'll have an afterlife. Some believe in reincarnation. The Tok'ra are possessed of a diverse group of beliefs. Does that not offer some comfort?"

Hanne thinned her lips. "By the same measure, do not many, including the symbiotes, refuse believe in any sort of afterlife. That when they die, they join the Void?"

Jacob raised an eyebrow at Hanne as he turned away from the Gate and started down the steps towards the transport rings, Hanne following. Two of the sentries nearby obscured the Councillor's footsteps in the sand.

"That's your belief?" he asked.

Hanne hesitated a moment before responding. "The belief of my culture, on Qeqete, is that when we die, we are reincorporated into the Celestial Essence, losing individual identity and the materialistic trappings of our lives, instead becoming part of the All. A small part of the Universe that gave us birth. Our consciousness ceases to be and our memories of our lives become part of the Void. The antithesis of the All."

Jacob looked at her, and relayed Selmak's statement. "That wasn't what we asked you."

Hanne offered a wry half-smile. "I believe that if a person dies, it is possible for them to live again. After all, there are such things as sarcophagii. My culture's insistence on a Celestial Essence, to me, is about as believable as the rings about our world being made of the bones of our ancestors, and the false Gods they vanquished."

At Jacob's startled look at her venomous tone, she made a conscious attempt to smile. "I have issues with my culture." she said. There was a brief pause, then Hanne closed her eyes, dipping her head minisculey. "Such as you wouldn't believe." Olayinka finished.

Jacob grinned and started to reply, but a clunking sound as the first chevron on the Stargate locked in startled them both, causing them to whirl around. The sentries that had helped them carry the bodies to the Gate and were now returning to the base looked similarly startled. The second chevron was like a cue, causing every single Tok'ra to run for cover and hide. Olayinka and Jacob wound up behind a large sand dune (it had been extremely unsurprising that their new homeworld was covered in sand... or maybe they had just come to a desert region), waiting with baited breath for the moment they would know who had come through the Gate. They couldn't make a break for the transport rings without being seen.

The final chevrons locked in almost too quickly, and there was an ominous silence as the Gate activated and the Tok'ra waited for the travellers. With a slightly disconcerting squelching sound, three figures burst through the gate. One of the figures was being carried between the other two, and as they burst through the event horizon, the stress of the transit across light years sent them collapsing to their knees, the two who had been supporting the third involuntarily dropping their companion.

"Oh sh'a'brak." muttered a low male voice, the third. "I think I just broke my ribs. Again."

"That's Saleil," Olayinka said, and leapt to her feet and was over the ridge of the sand dune before Jacob could say a word to stop her. Muttering a curse he had learned from Selmak, Jacob sprang up from his own hiding place and followed her. One or two sentries were also watching curiously.

Olayinka fell to her knees next to the smallest of the three, who Jacob could see, as he got closer, was in fact Zeboary. He quickly identified her two companions as the Tunnel Second and a technologist whose name he couldn't recall.

'Oh thank god...' Selmak said, unconsciously borrowing her host's phrase. She, of course, did not believe in a god of any sort. 'They're alive. They were gone so long... I thought they were dead.'

Olayinka was poking and prodding the Tunnel Senior with a practiced touch. Zeboary was groaning and slapping away the hands.

She was saying, as Jacob approached, "Saleil suffers greater injuries than I."

Olayinka steadfastly ignored her, patting down her ribs and checking for fractures to other bones. Then she rested a hand on Zeboary's head, checking for her symbiote's presence. Satisfied, the Healer moved on to Saleil, who lay groaning on the ground.

Jacob knelt next to Zeboary, who was looking as if she was more than a little out of it. "Hey Jacob..." she said. "We were gone long?"

"You've been gone nearly a day." Jacob told her.

Zeboary blinked groggily. "Really?" she said. "It seemed longer." With that, she passed out.

**

Selmak had ordered her host to find Garshaw and explain the situation. Garshaw hadn't been that easy to track down; she had been discussing the finer points of food preparation with someone down in one of the food halls. Actually, she had been complaining about the lack of fresh food.

Now the pair of them were walking into the chamber which held Zeboary, who lay on a slab and was being thoroughly examined by Olayinka. Daralis, Olayinka's assistant, stood slightly behind the Healer Senior, holding a tray of instruments.

Zeboary blinked and turned her head as she heard the two new entrants approach her bedside.

"Zeboary," Garshaw said in cursory greeting.

"Garshaw."

Zeboary smiled weakly, while Olayinka glanced up at the High Counsel. The Healer said nothing. Obviously Zeboary was not too weak to answer questions. She appeared to have been healed of any apparent injury.

"Do you feel strong enough to respond to our queries?" Garshaw asked her. "We must know what transpired."

Zeboary glanced at Olayinka, who narrowed her eyes briefly and beckoned her assistant forward to deposit an instrument on the tray. Olayinka finally nodded.

"If she is not put under undue stress." Olayinka said carefully.

Garshaw nodded, and gestured to Selmak to begin asking questions.

"After we evacuated our last world," Selmak said, folding her arms. "And you were left in the tunnels. What happened?"

Zeboary took a deep, shaky breath, and started to explain. "I ordered Saleil and Natien to search for an intact crystal." Zeboary said, then held up her hands. "Which is when I managed to cut my hands."

Olayinka grabbed Zeboary's wrists and examined her palms carefully. She made a noise of disgust and gave her assistant a spate of medical terminology. Daralis nodded and searched the tray she held, after a moment producing a sharp bladed scalpel that glistened in the dim light provided by the still growing luminescent crystals in the ceiling. Garshaw caught sight of Jacob wincing in sympathy for the tunnel engineer.

Olayinka grimaced and Hanne surfaced. Obviously Hanne was going to have to do something Olayinka found distasteful. Garshaw found it odd that a Healer was so squeamish. Hanne tapped her finger against Zeboary's wrist.

"I require Fenuz to enable a neural block from here," Hanne pressed into Zeboary's arm at a point apprximately at mid-forearm. "To fingertips."

There was a pause, then Zeboary nodded. "Done." Hanne nodded and took the sharp cutting instrument from her assistant. "What are you doing?" Zeboary asked, panicked.

"Many of the cuts caused by crystalline shrapnel have healed over," Hanne said, "Trapping the shards beneath your skin. I have to remove them before they do more damage."

"Perhaps you should continue to explain to us what happened," Garshaw said, knowing that, standing as she did on the other side of the bed from Hanne, she would draw the Senior's attention away from the rather gruesome healing.

"Of course." Zeboary said, not even flinching, thanks to her symbiote, as Hanne poked her palm for a moment, then made a short incision, causing bright red blood to well up. The Healer put down the scalpel and grabbed a pair of tweezers, attempting to fish out the shard. "When we found an intact crystal, we used the last of the charge from the comlink, as well as some of the energy from the luminescant crystal, to start it replicating and growing. It grew a tunnel all the way to the surface."

Garshaw's eyes involuntarily went to the small bowl next to Hanne as she heard a small chink. A piece of crystal, about two centimeters in length, had just been extracted, bloodied, from Zeboary's hand, and Hanne's assistant was trying to keep up with the blood flow from both the first incision that Fenuz was trying to heal, and the next one Hanne was making. Garshaw grimaced, and Zeboary looked nauseous. She also hadn't been able to resist looking.

"What then?" Selmak said, trying to keep the patient's attention.

"When the tunnel had grown we climbed it all the way to the surface." Zeboary said, pain in her eyes. Fenuz's neural block obviously wasn't totally effective. "I'd forgotten how far down we make our tunnels." She smiled mirthlessly. "When we got to the surface... we ran. Just kept running and didn't look back. We'd run about one half krefal before we realised no one was following us." Zeboary blinked. "We felt... embarrassed about that, for some reason."

Garshaw couldn't tell whether she meant her symbiote and herself, or the three survivors.

Yosef said, 'Language is inaccurate.'

Garshaw said, 'It is poor form to mimic Breia.'

"So we ran for the Chaapa'ai." Zeboary continued. "Saleil fell on the way and broke the ribs Oritu had been healing, which is why we were forced to carry him. When we reached the Chaapa'ai, we found the ground scorched from weapons fire, and Jaffa had obviously been searching the area. There were none there when we arrived, but to be on the safe side, we travelled to Noraina... the staging world from which we launched the Lortas mission?... and from there, came here."

Hanne moved away from working on Zeboary's left hand and moved around the table, her assistant trailing after her, and caused an uncomfortable amount of shuffling as Garshaw and Selmak also switched sides. Hanne tapped Zeboary's arm, to indicate that she wanted another neural block.

"Helen has shown us several crystals that were damaged." Garshaw said, ignoring the blood that was welling up once more. "Such damage, according to her, would have caused the collapse."

"Helen," Fenuz said, her voice even more distorted through anger. She had apparently come to the fore while Garshaw had not been paying attention. "Is a lowly student. Hardly qualified to make such an assessment."

"Even so." Garshaw said, consciously giving off body language that said 'I'm listening, but I'm believing Helen for now'.

"High Counsel," Fenuz said, voicing the dissatisfaction that both she and her host said. "Neither my host, nor I, nor any of my engineers failed or were in any way negligent of our duty. The crystals that formed the matrix of Tunnel Seven were flawless."

"You are certain of that?" Garshaw asked evenly.

"Yes." Fenuz said.

'Can I hear teeth grinding?' asked Yosef.

"We are not implying negligence." Selmak said, holding up a placating hand. "Perhaps, merely an error in judgement took place."

"They are one and the same." Fenuz said in a low, dangerous tone.

"There must have been a flaw in the tunnel's construction," snapped Garshaw. "Or it would not have collapsed."

"The fault," Fenuz returned. "Was not ours."

"Then whose," Selmak interrupted gently. "Could it be?"

The pair fell silent, and Selmak bowed her head to allow Jacob to surface. He said, "Fenuz, if it wasn't the tunnel itself, could it have been something else that damaged the walls. Made them collapse?"

Fenuz thought a moment, then shook her head. "Staff weapon discharges would have been refracted by the crystals. The same goes for zat'nik'atel." She frowned. "However... we were making extensions to that tunnel. Growing extra rooms for the Technologists. If one of those rooms was... improperly constructed..." Fenuz looked like she'd rather be experiencing the full pain of what Hanne was doing to her hand rather than admitting that. "Then a flawed matrix would have merged with the corridor. That would destabalise the entire section and cause a collapse." Fenuz quickly added, "But none of my engineers would have been stupid enough to used damaged crystal for construction."

"But it still bears investigating." Jacob prompted. Fenuz hesitated briefly, then nodded.

"There," Hanne said, drawing all eyes towards her. She was finishing waving a healing device over Zeboary's hands, returning them to a pristine condition. "Fenuz, you may release the neural block."

Fenuz nodded, and after a few moments held up her hands to look at them, flexing the fingers gently. "Thank you." she said quietly.

Garshaw peeked inside the bowl that Daralis still held. Seven sharp pieces of crystal were inside, along with a small pool of blood. One shard had even managed to take a piece of flesh with it.

Yosef ordered her to look away.

**

The crystal was of the type that was used as the first step in every single Tok'ra construction. It was the sort that was used to create small rooms and as a result was more squat and of a more purplish colour than the crystals used for tunnels and larger rooms. However, it differed from all other crystals in one major respect; a deep jagged flaw ran straight through the crystal, rendering it essentially useless.

It was a matter of duty, and a point of pride, that the engineers would not let anything happen to their crystals. A fact which had become the source of amore than a few jokes among the other Tok'ra. It had lead to their nickname of delmak'carr, crystal-lovers. As such, the engineers tended to take it as a personal affront when something happened to one of their precious crystals.

"They believe it is our fault," murmured Alith, the symbiote's voice resonating with misery. "They blame us for the loss of life."

"They do nothing of the sort," snapped the newly-healed Saleil (who was still nursing his ribs, despite his protestations of complete health), which characteristic brusqueness. "Don't be ridiculous."

"Quite, both of you." snapped Zeboary, who was nursing a glass of Daralis/Eirene's special drink. While it was impossible to get drunk while possessing a symbiote, the Healer had managed to come up with a concoction that nicely blurred the senses while still retaining most of the drinkers cognitive function. Most of. Daralis had managed to sneak some to her after Garshaw and Selmak had finished with her.

Zeboary had drunk three glasses, in spite of Fenuz's objections.

"We need to find out what happened." She said to the assemblage of Tunnel Engineers. She had summoned everyone above junior and above. She had no patience for students and juniors who didn't know the ins and outs of their craft. "So, Alith, stop being miserable, and, Saleil, stop being nasty." Zeboary took a deep breath and held it for a moment. "Rali..."

Rali/Mikkel, their analyst, was scanning the fractured crystal on one of the low tables along with an underling, glared at Zeboary. "What?" she asked, somewhat snappishly.

"Anything yet?"

"Allow me to finish the scan and I will tell you." answered Rali.

"We need to determine from which room the instability began." Rimar began, fairly reasonably, drawing attention away from the obvious irritated Rali.

"So you know who to blame for generating an unstable matrix." Alith said. "So they'll suffer punishment."

"Alith-" Zeboary began.

"She's right," Saleil interjected, for once agreeing with his colleague. "The others want someone to blame. Who better than a negligent delmak'carr, so enamoured with the crystals that they did not notice the danger."

There were murmurs of agreement from the assembled. Rali and her underling paused in their scanning, but were soon engrossed in their readings when Zeboary made as if to throw something at them.

'I don't like this.' she confided to her symbiote. 'It could get out of hand fast.'

'Let them.' Fenuz advised.

Zeboary said, 'That's like letting a fire burn hotter.'

'Allowing it to burn itself out.' refuted Fenuz.

'Or to stay with the metaphor, it could rage out of control.' Zeboary said worriedly.

'Which is why we have fire suppression systems, my love.'

Meanwhile, another engineer, by the name of Leinn, his symbiote Vetnar, had chosen to add his voice to the discussion. "What of those who are junior?" he asked. He was also the liason between junior and adept engineers. "None of them will be trusted again. Many are already convinced that we are incompetant."

The murmurs were louder this time and Zeboary decided, against Fenuz's advice, to end the discussion. "The only way we will prove that we are not incompetant is to show that we are not at fault."

The silence that fell was sullen and awkward, and Zeboary wished that Daralis had been able to make the drink a little stronger.

Fenuz sent:
{disapproval}

Zeboary glanced at her datapad. "According to records, chamber 692-esba was the most recent construct in the region of the collapse." Zeboary's eyes lightened on one piece of data and she felt as if she had swallowed a stone. "And it was Saleil who was rostered the generate the construct."

All eyes turned to Saleil, who shifted uncomfortably, and, after a moment, said, "I was busy with Charlie."

Zeboary blinked. "So what did you do?" she asked evenly.

"I... delegated." he admitted slowly, and glanced to his left. "To Hursis."

The collective gaze of the room shifted to the rather meek young man, who had only recently been Blended with Lailie. Zeboary prayed to the deities she had, for the most part, forsaken upon joining the Tok'ra, that it was not him, that the collapse had not been the result of a melding-instability.

"I too was... busy." Hursis said in a soft voice.

Fenuz sniggered. 'Busy with Rethenna, I'd say.'

'Silence!' Zeboary thundered mentally.

"And also 'delegated'. To Alith."

Zeboary didn't even bother giving Alith a chance to speak. "Busy?"

Alith nodded.

"Delegated?"

Alith nodded.

"To who?"

'It's whom.'

'What part of silence do you not understand, parasite.'

"Actually," Alith said, "I didn't pass on the order in person, but I told someone to tell Tuya and Sanan to do it."

Sanan, who had been sipping from a glass of the same drink as Zeboary, straightened slightly, frowning. "I received no such instruction." she said.

"Well," Ralie spoke up suddenly. "It's not a natural flaw that is present in this crystal. It was not an error in the synthesis that is responsible for the damage."

"Then what was it?" prompted Saleil.

Rali hesitated, biting her tongue for a moment, then Mikkel took over and said what her host could not. "An electrical discharge." she said solemnly.

"A zat'nik'atel?" Zeboary asked, her stomach twisting in dread, in addition to the stones, making her feel ill. Well, more ill than she had been.

Mikkel nodded. "That appears to be the case." she said. "And in anticipation of your next question, the pattern of the molecular disruption indicates it was fired upon twice. It was no accident."

Zeboary whirled back to Alith, who looked pale. "Alith, you must remember. Who did you instruct to pass on the message?"

Alith stared at her hands. "Zoorna informs me that it was... Helen. Definitely Helen."

Zeboary sank back on her chair. "Oh goddess..." she breathed. "She was the one who brought the damaged crystals to the Council's attention. She was the one planted the doubt in Garshaw's mind as to our competance."

"She must have generated the unstable matrix. She's a student, but she would have known it was too dangerous." Saleil said.

"Which means she's a saboteur." Zeboary said in a voice that seemed oddly dissociated from herself. She couldn't tell whether she was merely in shock, or whether it was Fenuz, speaking with her own voice. She swallowed, and tried to ground herself. "I will inform the Council."

**

Sam was so out of it, she had barely registered when Janet came to pull her out of the quarantined lab and quietly informed her that both of them had been summoned for a meeting to take place in five minutes time. Sam had reluctantly agreed, knowing in some distant part of her mind that she did have her duty. So she went unprotestingly, and was surprised to meet up with Daniel and Jack on the stairwell heading up towards the briefing room.

"Any idea what this is about?" Janet asked, deflecting attention away from Sam. She was relieved. She couldn't take Jack's pitying expression.

"No idea." Daniel said.

"Maybe they're going to give us a raise." suggested Jack, to which janet responded to with a judicious snigger.

"Actually," Hammond spoke, hearing the tale end of their conversation. "Larrell was the one asked for this meeting." He nodded to the Tok'ra who was already seated near the head of the table, Teal'c in the chair next to her. Sam would have been willing to bet that he hadn't let her out of his sight.

"Indeed." said Larrell, as the others took their seats. "I believe I have something of importance to relate to you."

"And what might that be?" Jack asked as he made himself comfortable in his chair.

"I am given to understand that you have separated host and symbiote." Larrell said.

Janet nodded slowly. "That's correc-"

"Why?" Larrell interrupted brusquely.

Janet looked annoyed for a brief moment before she answered. "Because it was the only way to stop the virus from replicating."

"And by doing so, how exactly have you aided Martouf or Lantesh in any way?" Larrell asked, stressing the last three words.

"Larrell, you may not like what we did, but we may have saved their lives." Janet snapped.

Larrell was silent for a moment, glaring at Janet. "You did not answer the question."

Janet's irritation was apparent to anyone at the table. "Lantesh appears to have stabalised, but Martouf is currently in a coma and on full life support."

"So his condition has in fact worsened." At Janet's nod, Larrell glanced at her hands briefly before looking up. "That was to be expected. Without a symbiote, the host's recovering immune system cannot destroy the virus. And the damage is unrepairable."

"Recovering immune system?" Daniel said, picking out a phrase from Larrell's words that he was interested in.

Janet was the one to respond. "When a Goa'uld-" Larrell's sharp glance made her take a sharp breath inwards and rephrase. "When a symbiote blends with a host, they suppress the host's immune system. It stops the body's defense from attacking and rejecting the symbiote. The symbiote then takes over all immunological functions."

"Martouf's immune system is struggling to rebuild itself after having been suppressed so long." Larrell stated. "It makes an already difficult task that much harder."

"Not to interrupt this... fascinating explanation or anything," Jack said, leaning forward slightly, folding his hands on the table. "But why did you want to speak to us? Other than to demand a status report."

Larrell managed to have a smug expression semi-hidden on her face. "I believe I may have a solution." she said.

Hammond blinked. "Let's hear it."

"There is one thing which will save Martouf and restore him to health." Larrell said, looking at each of the assembled in turn. "A sarcophagus can raise the dead. It would be no great task for it to heal injuries as severe as Martouf's."

"What?!" Sam said sharply, her tone disbelieving. She and Janet glanced at each other in consternation. Hammond looked disturbed, no doubt remembering, from the look he cast in Daniel's direction, what had happened last time they had messed with a sarcophagus.

"But I thought the Tok'ra didn't use the sarcophagus." Jack said pointedly, narrowing his eyes at Larrell.

Larrell smiled tightly. "That is correct, Colonel O'Neill." she said.

"I don't understand." admitted Daniel, looking puzzled. "Why would you suggest we use something that the Tok'ra think would make them... well, bad for lack of a better term."

Larrell took a breath as she obviously thought of how to answer that. "An excellant question, Doctor Jackson. May I remind you that Martouf will die unless a minor miracle occurs. This is something your own Healer, Janet Frasier, has stated," Here she threw a sidelong glance down the table towards Janet. Janet just bit her lip and glanced down at her notes. "And something which is an indisputable fact."

"Let me guess," Hammond said quietly, staring at Larrell with an even gaze. "This is where the sarcophagus comes in."

"Yes," Larrell stated emphatically. "A sarcophagus can revive even from death. In circumstances such as these, should we not make us of a piece of technology which can be so helpful? Martouf and Lantesh are important figures in the fight against the Goa'uld. To allow them to die when the ability to save them is within our grasp is... foolish to say the least."

"That doesn't sound like a typical Tok'ra opinion," Sam commented, almost too lightly, earning her a glance from Larrell.

"Perhaps not," Larrell said smoothly, tugging absently on the sleeves of her tunic. "However, these are not typical circumstances, as I am certain you will agree, Carter."

"I may agree, but that's no reason to be insulting." Sam said.

Everyone glanced at her with expressions of puzzlement, having not detected any offensive behaviour from the Tok'ra, but Larrell bowed her head, as if accepting the point.

"My apologies, Samantha," Larrell said, stressing the major's name.

"I think we're getting off the point here," Daniel said, interrupting the obvious tension that could be felt between the two women. "A sarcophagus. Ignoring the moral problems of using it, neither the Tok'ra or Earth has one."

Larrell nodded. "That is correct."

When nothing else was forthcoming, Jack prompted, "So? Where to we /get/ one?"

"The Tok'ra obviously have no sarcophagus," Larrell said, beginning what promised to be a roundabout explanation. "For one, we have moral objections to its usage. Secondly, it's a little large to carry from world to world. It wouldn't even fit into a transport ring's radius, we would require a physical transit shuttle to carry it to a new homeworld." Larrell laced her fingers, mimicing (unconsciously or deliberately, no one could tell) Daniel's attentive posture. "However, all Goa'uld have a sarcophagus."

She looked around the table, and was obviously exasperated by the blank looks she received in return. She sighed. "Ate was a Goa'uld. Ate is dead. Her world will likely have been abandoned by her Jaffa."

"Ergo one sarcophagus." Jack said, finally catching on.

"Krentan." Larrell said sharply, sitting back in her chair. In context, Sam guessed that it meant 'precisely' or 'exactly'.

"It could work," Sam whispered, a slim glimmer of hope appearing in her mind.

"I should probably not tell you this," Larrell said, leaning forward as if divulging a great secret. "But if Martouf were to die here, on your world, under the attention of your medical staff, then I have little doubt that there would be a weakening of the bond between our two peoples." She tilted her head. "There are some members of the council who remain unconvinced as to your usefulness."

"That's all we are?" Daniel said. "Useful?"

"So you can see," Larrell continued, ignoring him. "It is in your best interests as well to help him survive."

Hammond glanced at Jack, who shrugged microscopically, then he looked around the table at the rest of SG1, gauging their reactions. Finally, he looked to Larrell. "I'm prepared to authorise such a mission. If Larrell is able to show SG1 where the sarcophagus-"

"I will remain here." Larrell suddenly said, with a hardened expression which said that no one would change her mind.

"This was your idea, Larrell." Hammond pointed out. "I would have thought you'd want to be on the team."

"With all due respect, General," Larrell said, "I believe that Tok'ra interests would be better served by my remaining here to protect Lantesh. Not to appear callous," Larrell glanced at Sam. "But Lantesh is the important half of the Blending. Martouf is merely a host, and as such can be replaced. Lantesh holds several hundred years worth of Tok'ra knowledge, to lose that would be to deprive ourselves of that information."

"That is callous." Janet said pointedly.

"That," Larrell stated. "Is a realistic assessment."

"What does your symbiote have to say?" Sam suddenly asked, causing Larrell to quirk an eyebrow.

"She is in agreement with me." Larrell said, but seeing the unconvinced expression on Sam's face, she dipped her head and her eyes flashed, showing the symbiote's presence. "Larrell offers you the only viable alternative to watching Martouf slowly die in your medical bay." The symbiote, Aela, said harshly. "It is his only chance at life. Will you pass it up so easily?"

"No," Hammond said slowly. "Of course not."

"Then you are in agreement with me?" Aela said, narrowing her eyes. "You will escort Martouf to Ate's world. To her sarcophagus, to regenerate him."

"Sir," Janet interrupted. "Martouf is on full life support. We'd have to disconnect him from that equipment in order to move him. That could prove fatal in itself."

Larrell smirked, "Did I, or did I not say that the sarcophagus can raise the dead, Doctor?"

"You are risking this man's life on the hope that the Goa'uld won't have moved the sarcophagus, that it won't have been destroyed, and that Ate will not have used it to regenerate after she was killed by SG1."

Larrell swivelled her chair so that she was facing Janet, speaking to her over Teal'c. The Jaffa just looked impassive, but Sam was willing to bet he wished he was elsewhere. Hammond sat back, watching to see what happened.

"There is risk in everything, Doctor. In this circumstance it is an acceptable risk."

"With respect, you are hardly qualified to make that assessment." Janet bit back.

"What gives you that impression?" Larrell said.

"Tell you what," Janet leaned forward. "Come back to me when you have your medical degree, and we'll talk."

Hammond chose that moment to interrupt the rather tense situation and glanced down the table to Sam. "Major, what do you think?"

"If we can save his life..." Sam swallowed convulsively. "Sir, it's not like we're using the sarcophagus on Martouf while he's healthy. And if it will save his life... I'm willing to do anything." Janet glared at her friend, then sat back, knowing she had been defeated.

Larrell looked smugly satisfied, as if she had won a major victory. Later, no one would be able to remember the precise moment when symbiote and host had switched positions, but it had certainly occured while no one was looking.

"As to my remaining it... it is not that I don't trust the Tau'ri." Larrell said, offering a wry smile. "I merely do not have complete confidence in your abilities to protect the symbiote from the murderer in your facility."

"You don't trust us." stated Jack, which earned him an sidelong look from Larrell.

"Perhaps." admitted Larrell, a wry smile on her face. "But I believe I am entitled to a certain degree of suspicion? Has not someone been murdered?"

"I assure you that our security is the best." Hammond told her.

Larrell offered a wry look. "Not good enough, as your deceased Healer would attest."

Hammond glanced down, and then back up again. "Your point is well taken." he said.

"Then I will remain." Larrell said with finality. No one bothered arguing with her.

Hammond said, "Colonel O'Neill," Jack glanced up at his commanding officer's address. "SG2 will accompany SG1 to..."

"N'horkas." Larrell supplied.

"N'horkas. As I understand it, they've been playing some rather raucous card games going on in the mess hall since the lock down, and people are starting to complain of lost winnings." Hammond said, "Be prepared to depart at nineteen thirty hours."

**

The quarantine unit was oddly quiet, with only the beeping of monitors, and the gently ripple of the liquid in Lantesh's tank to break the silence. The nurses had acquiesed to Sam's request to wait outside for a little while, and even the observation deck was abandoned. She was wearing a suit, but she was so accustomed to that by now that it didn't encumber her movements any longer. She had intended to go straight to Martouf's side, but an omnipresent tingle drew her towards the symbiote.

Sam placed her hand on the side of the tank that Lantesh was suspended in. The symbiote seemed to be much more healthy now, its skin tone having darkened towards a dark-grey/black, and its eyes glowing brighter. It even seemed to sense Sam's presence and swivelled its head in the direction of her hand. The naqada in Lantesh's body allowed him to sense her presence, as did the same mineral in hers. Martouf though... Lantesh hadn't died within him, hadn't left him with the alien mineral swimming in his bloodstream. Sam was disconcerted to find that she couldn't sense Martouf, only Lantesh. She was so used to having that familiar tingle associated with the host. It was almost like... he wasn't there.

"Well, the decision is made." she said to the symbiote. She didn't doubt the symbiote could hear her, sound would travel perfectly well through the liquid in the tank, the vibrations of the water caused by the noise would be transmitted to the symbiote, but whether Lantesh could understand her without a host was uncertain. She knew that without a host, Lantesh was relegated to the limited senses a symbiote possessed in its natural form. Weak eyes, limited mobility, no ears, none of the 'comforts of home' so to speak.

Even so, Lantesh seemed to eye her carefully, the four beady eyes glinting just a little bit more suspiciously.

'Stop it, don't anthropomorphise.' Sam told herself. 'If anything else, this should demonstrate to you just how alien he is.'

Sam's gaze slipped to the definitely human host, her hand dropping away from the side of the tank. Lantesh followed her with red eyes for a moment, then seemed to either lose interest or was no longer be able to see her.

Martouf was unconscious, drugs fed into his body through slits in his arms, wired up to half a dozen machines. He was being fed oxygen directly through a tube, and looked grey and pale. Sam glanced back at Lantesh, who swam in a lazy figure of eight in his tank. The symbiote was getting better, while the host was getting progressively worse.

She gently took his hand and pressed it between both of hers, feeling the warmth of hid skin even through the gloves of the suit. She tried not to wince at the bruises that gentle touch raised on his skin. She had to take a few seconds before she felt strong enough to speak.

"We're going to take you to Ate's world." Sam said to him. "We're going to put you in a sarcophagus and try to heal you. Janet says the nastier virus will have burnt itself by now, and it's just the damage that's killing you." She sighed. "I know what you'd probably say if you were conscious, that this is a stupid idea and what the hell was I thinking?

"Well, it was Larrell's idea really, so you can blame her." Sam smiled weakly, but since her companion obviously did not share her mirth, the joke falled somewhat flat. "I know you're probably going to hate me for this... I Remember what happened to Jolinar that time... I wish to God I didn't. And I know you swore never to use a sarcophagus. But I can't watch you die. I couldn't watch any friend die."

Sam took a deep shaky breath. "Although... you're more than my friend, have been for a long time. Please forgive me?"

**

A little over an hour later, SG1 and 2, standing apart from one another, were in the Gateroom, all geared up and ready to go. Sam kept sending nervous glances towards the large blast doors on either side of the room, not knowing through which Janet and her team would come.

Jack saw her glances and tried not to dwell too much on it. Larrell may have been acting like something of a bitch around Janet, but what she had said to him while he had been questioning her kept coming back. Sam, thanks to those wonderful memories Jolinar had bequeathed her, had been fond of Martouf since day one. He couldn't help but feel a little... slighted.

Not that he would ever tell Sam that. He hoped.

"Out of curiosity, Sam," Jack said, catching the Major's attention, trying to take her mind of what was going on. She looked at him with tired eyes. "Why did you say Larrell was being insulting?"

Sam blinked slowly, as if coming out of a trance. "Hmm?" she asked.

"In the briefing?"

"Oh yes." Sam paused. "Cultural thing. Forget out about it."

Jack and Daniel exchanged glances, and Sam could almost read the sentiment behind the look. They thought she was letting her memories run away with her again. She took a deep breath. No matter. It was done now.

That was when Janet and her orderlies entered the Gateroom, pushing a gourney on which lay a quarantine suited figure. It was obvious who it was even to someone who was not Sam, who had been kicked out of the quarantine lab when the medical team had come to prepare Martouf to leave the planet. She swallowed her fear and stepped over to the medics.

**

Just across the Gateroom, SG2 stood in a small group talking amongst themselves. Not that they didn't like SG1, or any such thing, it was just that they were used to keeping their own company on missions. Beside which, Sam Carter had a face 'like a wet weekend' (according to one control room tech) and was exuding an aura of 'stay the hell away from me' to anyone who came near.

"Lucky charm, Beth?" Ferretti asked, glancing at the little piece of rock Fields was passing from hand to hand. He remembered her picking it up off-world and her commenting that it was a rock like those found on Earth, and was thought to have protective qualities. She had never left on a mission since without it, something for which she received much teasing from her teammates.

"We're going on a mission with SG-1, Louis." she said with a dry smile. "You do the math."

"Did I mention I flunked math?" he asked her.

"Repeatedly." she said drily, slipping the rock into a breast pocket and sealing the velcro, absently checking over her MP5 with a practiced eye. "Didn't you say last week that two plus two equalled five?"

"I'd been reading nineteen eighty four." Ferretti said defensively, while Fields just made a slightly derogatory noise in response.

"Is that who I think it is?" Kingston said, nudging Hunter unsubtlely in the ribs and pointing in the direction of the newly arrived medical staff.

"That's the Tok'ra, Martouf, right?" Fields whispered to Ferretti, sending a glance in Carter's direction. "She looks awfully distraught."

"You haven't heard the rumours?" Hunter asked her, looking disbelieving. "I can't believe that, they were all over the base once SG3 got it into their heads to tell everyone about their... sparks."

Fields gently whacked him in the stomach, playfully. "Of course I heard, but you know what I mean."

"No, what do you mean?" Kingston asked.

"Rumours aren't exactly true." Fields said, sotto voce. "I mean, if this place were fueled on rumours, we wouldn't have to worry about our electric bill."

"Rumours are rumours because there's an element of truth in them." Hunter stated firmly.

Kingston narrowed his eyes at SG2's second in command. "Have you been watching B5 reruns?" he asked innocently.

"Maybe." said Hunter, neutrally.

Ferretti sniggered at Hunter's expression.

"Hey, boys, pay attention," Fields said, jerking her head in SG1's direction, where the team stood around the gourney. "I think we're next up."

Teal'c was carefully picking up the suited figure and standing at the base of the ramp as the Stargate started to dial out. SG1 ranged around him, and Ferretti led his team towards them and waited for their instructions from O'Neill, who had been given command of the mission.

"We're going to do this as quickly as possible. SG1 will lead the way, we've been there before." SG2 nodded absently in response to that order. "We'll secure the Gate, move to Ate's stronghold, then conduct a search as quickly as possible. SG2 will watch our six." O'Neill said, and Ferretti nodded in response, waving to his teammates to take up positions behind and to the side of Teal'c, while the remainder of SG1 stood in front. Ferretti thought he heard Fields mutter something about 'watching Jackson's six anytime', but he wasn't sure.

The final chevron locked in and the wormhole burst into life. "SG1, SG2, you have a go."

"Ready?" called O'Neill, to which the two teams responded in the affirmative. "Ok, let's move."

There was an unspoken count of two, and then the team ran for the Gate. The MALP had indicated that the area around the Gate was clear, but they really did not want to take any chances that they would emerge to find that the Jaffa had been hiding and pretending that no one was home. It was disorientating enough when one was simply stepping through the Gate, but when a traveller was running through the event horizon, more often than not, they lost their footing upon arrival. Which is almost what Ferretti did, with Hunter running into his back, still out of sorts from the wormhole.

"Everyone here?" O'Neill was saying.

Kingston muttered, "More or less," but no one heard him.

"Hunter, Kingston, stay here and secure the Gate. Ferretti, Fields, you're with us. Let's move."

**

Airman Matthew Scott, knocked on the door to the guest quarters, hoping that it didn't come across as timid. He'd never met an alien before.

"Enter." came the voice from inside.

The room was a standard VIP guest quarters in the SGC, with a large bed (which looked as if it hadn't been touched, in spite of Larrell having resided there over a week) with a painting of a starscape over the head, and a single table on the other side of the room next to an obviously artificial potted plant. The woman glanced up from a file she had been reading, her hands folded in her lap.

She asked, "Chal'nok renn?"

"Uh... ma'am?" Scott looked at the woman he had been assigned to guard. He knew she was a Tok'ra, and he knew who the Tok'ra were, but he had never met one. She reminded him somewhat of a woman he'd dated on and off on his last assignment in Washington state, with short brown hair that seemed permanently tousled.

The obvious difference was, however, that Larrell wasn't entirely Human. And she gave him a very unnerving look as he peered around the door.

"Can I assist you?" she asked.

"I'm your new escort, Airman Scott, ma'am."

Larrell nodded, as if she had been waiting for him. "Of course, my apologies for my sharpness."

"Yes, ma'am. Do you need any help with anything, ma'am?"

"I do." Larrell stood up from the table and clasped her hands together over her midsection. "You may escort me to the quarantine unit where Lantesh currently resides."

"That would be on level four..." muttered Scott to himself, while Larrell waited expectantly and disapprovingly. "This way, ma'am." He said, gesturing to the door.

Larrell nodded briskly and preceeded him out of the door. He pointed her in the direction of elevator and walked next to her in silence for a few moments.

"It would seem that the Tau'ri do not trust me." Larrell said mildly, looking at Scott out of the corner of her eye.

"It's not that, ma'am," Scott hurriedly said as he pressed the call button on the elevator. "This is as much for your protection as anything. I mean, we've still got a murderer running loose."

"Indeed we do, Scott." Larrell said. "And I appreciated your vigilence."

"Uh... thank you ma'am." Scott said after a moment, unsure of what to make of the comment. Wait a minute... appreciated?? Past tense?

They entered the elevator with Scott shooting Larrell unnerved looks every few moments. Finally, Larrell spoke.

"By the way, Airman," Larrell said, looking down at her hands, clasped together over her stomach, as if seeing them for the first time. "Have you ever seen one of these before?"

She opened her hands and showed him what she meant.

**

Helen, student to the Tunnel Engineers, stood outside her quarters in the Tok'ra complex having an argument with the guard standing out her quarters. Normally, she wouldn't have wasted her time arguing with people, but in this case, the guard was being an annoyance.

"These are my quarters." she said, trying to sound reasonable. "You can't keep me out."

"Council's orders." the guard said, as if that was enough.

"The Tok'ra rely too much on what the Council says." Helen said, with something akin to disgust. The guard stared at her quizzically. She took a deep breath. "Let me in."

"No." was the response.

Helen was set to crack skulls in order to get inside her quarters, but another guard approached, obviously seeking her. "Helen," he said, "You've been summoned by the Council."

"Fine," she groused, and gave the guard a parting glare. "I'm not done with you."

The guard rolled his eyes. "What are you going to about it?" he asked, obviously thinking the question rhetorical, and so Helen said nothing, merely turning on her heel and heading towards the Council Chambers. It took her a few seconds to realise that the guard who had been sent to summon her had fallen into step a little behind and to the side of her. She was being escorted there.

The whole council was assembled when she arrived. The guard that had escorted her to the chamber stood next to a second by the entrance to the room, obviously there to stop her from making a run for it. Helen watched the Council carefully.

"This can't be good." she muttered.

"Helen," Garshaw said, her whole bearing screaming 'formality'. "Do you know the reason for which you have been summoned?"

Helen snapped her fingers. "I knew I shouldn't have pinched those office supplies. What gave me away, the paper clip chains?"

The Council was obviously puzzled, but Jacob said, "Don't be facetious, Helen. This is very serious."

"So what do you think I did?" Helen asked.

"You have betrayed us." Garshaw stated.

Helen stared at her for a moment, mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Finally she laughed briefly, sounding disbelieving. "You can't be serious!"

"I assure you, we are deadly serious." Garshaw said in a low, dangerous tone.

That was when Niauli/Yshyn entered and consciously avoided coming anywhere near to Helen, crossing instead to the table behind which the Councillors stood.

"We found these in her quarters." she said, holding up the items and placing them on the table. "The missing zat'nik'atel..."

"Which was undoubtedly used to damage the Tunnel crystals." Zeboary stated darkly.

Niauli took a deep breath and held up the second object in cupped hands. "And this."

Garshaw stared at the grey metallic sphere in the Technologist's hands and nodded slowly. "A long range visual communications sphere." she noted clinically. She turned her eyes on Helen. "And what, may I ask, were you doing with this?"

Helen's gaze flicked between each of the Council members. "You tell me." She said, oddly calm. "You appear to have all the answers."

"Tell us, Helen," Jacob said, folding his arms. "Why were you the one to find the damaged crystals? Why did no one else see them?"

"Perhaps they require to have their eyes tested." Helen said.

Zeboary was the next to speak, "And maybe you can tell us Helen, how a room was constructed without the knowledge of any engineer I have spoken to. The message to construct it seems to have stopped at you. Were you the one to use the faulty crystal? To create the damaged construct?"

Helen shrugged. "Maybe."

"You must have known what would happen." Zeboary said, disbelief in her voice, as if she found it hard to understand how someone could have done something like that.

Helen shrugged again. "Maybe."

"In addition," Olayinka said, her soft voice sounding saddened, as if she didn't like the way the situation was going. "One of my Healers reported, upon questioning, that you were seen with the geosonic scanner prior to it disappearing. And reappearing in a crate labelled 'medical supplies'."

Zeboary leaned forward, gritting her teeth. She looked ready to leap across the table and attack Helen. Chavi laid her hand on her mate's arm, a warning touch. "Do you know how many people died because we couldn't find the geosonic?" Zeobary said through gritted teeth. "Do you even care?"

"Oh, you're just bothered about the damage to your precious crystals." Helen said, flicking her fingers idly. "Everyone knows that."

"How can you say that?" Zeboary said, anguish in her voice.

"Oh Great Nahalli," Chavi whispered, so quietly that hardly anyone actually heard her utter her soft prayer. "Please don't let it be her. Let it be a Goa'uld. Not her."

Helen, though, was one of those that heard her. "Why?" she asked, turning a little to look the woman straight in the eye. "Are you worried that a host could do this? That a host could suppress their symbiote? That a host could do all this to you? A melding instability is the technical term, is it not?" Helen looked at Olayinka, who's gaze slid to the side. "When a host and symbiote don't blend properly, and the host goes mad, suppressing their symbiote? Is that what you're worried about."

Jacob said, very quietly. "We'd be lying if we said we weren't."

Helen grinned. "You know what, chica?" She said, looking directly at Chavi, who's face had turned ashen with her sudden dread. "You're quite correct about one thing." Chavi looked panicked, wondering which part she had been right about. "I'm not Helen." She grinned, and abruptly her eyes flashed and her voice distorted. "Who'd want to be that annoying little bitch anyway?" She actually laughed, a mocking, harsh laugh. "You are all depressingly easy to fool."

"Tok'ra, kree!" Garshaw snapped, waving to the guards at the entranceway, snapping them out of their shock. "Restrain her."

The guards, with the speed of their training, moved across the floor and grabbed Helen's upper arms, while Olayinka nodded in response to an order from Jacob and came around the table, an injector in her hand.

"You're going to sedate me?" Helen said, mockingly. "My, aren't we predictable?"

While the guard were restraining her arms, they were not hold her legs, and Helen used the handy assistance they provided to make sure she didn't fall over as she kicked out with her leg and knocked the injector out of Olayinka's hand. No one had realised that she had been carrying a knife, secreted in her sleeve, until the guard on her right sudden released her arm, and clutched his stomach, bright blood welling up in the wound.

That was when the Council started to move, the ones nearest the exits starting towards the cover provided by the doorway, others ducking behind the large crystal table. It didn't take a genius to work out what Helen's next move was going to be.

With her now free hand, Helen slammed her fist into the second guards throat and snatched up his staff weapon as he collapsed. Without checking to see who she was aiming at, she fired. One of the Councillors went down, a smoking burn in his chest.

Helen dropped the staff, ran halfway across the room and grabbed Garshaw's arm, just as the woman had been about to leave the Chamber and yelled, "Nobody move or I break her neck!"

The entire altercation had taken less than five seconds.

Selmak said, in nervous humour, 'Symbiote enhanced strength and speed. Such a wonderful thing.'

"Don't do this." Itzak warned, coming around the table. "You'll never get out of the base alive."

"We'll disable the transport rings," Chavi threatened. "They'll be no way out."

Helen made a soft hmming sound. "Good point."

No one had seen her snatch up the injector, but Helen pressed it into Garshaw's neck and then shoved the woman to the floor in one movement and fled the room before anyone could stop her. Garshaw was making an odd choking noise as she lay collapsed on the floor; Olayinka gracefully dropped to her knees beside the High Counsel and tried to remove the injector where it had somehow managed to adhere to Garshaw's skin, continuing to pump the drug into her system.

"Tok'ra kree!" That was Itzak, who was helping Breia to her feet while barking orders at the guards. "Ken'tan Helen. Kree!"

The Goa'uld barrelled down the corridor, heading to the only place she could think of: the transport rings. If somehow she could get to the Chaapa'ai, well maybe her assignment would not be a complete disaster after all.

Not that it had failed.

The Goa'uld thought, 'Chaos, panic, pandemonium. My work here is done.'

The Goa'uld's host thought, 'You bitch.'

She turned the corner into a new tunnel and almost ran into a group of Tunnel Engineers, most of whom held weapons and that managed to block off the whole of the tunnel. There was no way that she could get past them, so she turned around and headed in the other direction available to her, glancing back to see how far away the engineers were from her.

That was when she ran straight into what felt like a wall. She stumbled back a few steps and whipped her head around to see what it was that obstructed her path. Blocking the other end of the tunnel was another group, of similarly irate looking Tunnel Engineers, all aiming weapons in her direction, except for Saleil, who stood unarmed at the head of the group.

Helen stood stock still for a moment, gaping. Then Saleil stepped forward and drove his fist into her jaw. Helen was hit with such force that she was spun halfway around before she hit the floor. The Tunnel Engineers, with similar looks of satisfaction on their faces, didn't move their weapons away from her direction, even though she was obviously unconscious.

Itzak and Breia came barrelling around the corner, two large security teams hot on their heels, and came to a sudden and screeching halt as they took in the scene. That resulted in the almost comical pileup of the guards as they struggled not to run into the two Councillors.

Saleil folded his arms and glared at Helen. "That," he said with satisfaction. "Is for messing with our crystals."

**

The mood in the Council chambers was somber, and slightly bitter. That they hadn't seen the signs, that Helen had been allowed to carry on as far as she had, that she had been allowed to be the cause of so many deaths.

Granted, there had been little they could do to stop her. She had quite effectively managed to pull the proverbial wool over the eyes of the Tunnel Engineers by causing the tunnel collapse, she had called the Goa'uld down upon them. Nearly forty Tok'ra and their hosts had died thanks to her. Or the thing that had taken over her body.

Daralis, Hanne's omnipresent assistant, was bending over Aidan's body, having appeared at Hanne's bellowed summons shortly after Helen had made a run for the exit. She was checking for a pulse and feeling for the presence of his symbiote, Firyal. Finally she glanced at Olayinka and shook her head sadly. Then she gestured for the guards to help remove the body.

Jacob felt ill.

Olayinka seemed deeply upset by that, and took a few moment to steady herself before she returned her attention to the High Counsel, lying immobile on the floor.

"Yosef?" There was no answer from the woman other than a slow blink of her eyes. Olayinka rested a gentle hand on the leader's arm. "I know you can't move, and I know Garshaw's asleep, but try not to panic. We'll give you something so you can sleep and then when you wake up you'll be able to move again. Is that alright?"

There was no response, but Olayinka seemed to receive one, and she gracefully got to her feet.

"Daralis," The sharp tone marked the change from symbiote to host, recognisable even without the loss of voice distortion. "Give Yosef a double dosage of nepratok, then enough generic sedative for eight hours, take her to her quarters so she can sleep this off."

"Hanne," Jacob said, getting the Healer's attention. "Is she going to be coming out of this any time soon?"

Hanne made a disbelieving half-laugh. "That was the strongest paralytic agent I've got, and she had three times the recommended dosage. I've told Daralis to administer the antidote, but she's not coming out of it any time soon."

Jacob sighed. "How long?"

"Well," Hanne said, "It was calibrated for Helen's mass and metabolism so..." She tilted her head, muttering numbers under her breath. "She'll be completely disabled for at least seven and one half standard hours." Hanne patted Jacob's arm. "Looks like you're in charge for now."

Breia reentered the Council Chambers, accompanied by Zeboary. "The Goa'uld has been... restrained."

"Thanks to a rather enthusiastic effort from my Engineers." Zeboary said, and there was no mistaking the smug pride in her tone.

"Perhaps too enthusiastic." Breia said dryly, earning herself a glower from Zeboary.

"What is that meant to infer?" Zeboary asked.

"Your entire division was in that corridor." Breia said. "Are you aware of the concept of overkill?"

Zeboary wrinkled her nose. "It worked, did it not?"

"Enough you two." Jacob said, perhaps a little more sharply that he would normally have said. "Where's the Goa'uld?"

"She has been confined in Tunnel Six, chamber 1526." Breia stated.

Jacob nodded. "Good. Hanne?" The Healer turned away from treating the guard who had been stabbed at the call of her name. "I'm going to need you when we interrogate the Goa'uld." Hanne nodded and turned her attention back to the guard to complete her healing.

Selmak sent:
{concern}

Selmak said, 'You're apprehensive.'

Jacob said, 'This is the part I hate.'

**

When Helen, or the creature that had taken over Helen's body, came to, the first thing she did was make a noise of utter disgust and raise a hand to her face, where a large bruise had formed just at the edge of her jaw. Later, Jacob would remember that by the end of their conversation the bruise had almost completely disappeared, having been healed while they spoke. But at that moment, it was all Selmak could do to get her host to keep his anger under control.

"Well, this is nice." 'Helen' said, sweeping the room with her gaze and taking in the two Healers, Hanne and Daralis, two guards and Jacob in a slow turn of her head. "Looks like the gang's here. Why don't we get started?"

Jacob said, 'She thinks this is a game.'

Selmak said, 'How much do you want to bet that she's terrified?'

Jacob lifted his chin slightly. "Who are you?"

"Such a difficult question to answer." The Goa'uld twisted Helen's face into an uncharacteristic smirk as she slipped off the slab she had been laid on and stood on obviously shaky legs. She was obviously not completely recovered from the concussion Saleil had delivered. "Philosophers of the Tau'ri have tried to answer that question for centuries. You wish me to answer in a few moments?"

"Let's start with your name." Jacob suggested.

The Goa'uld regarded him, then seemed to decide it would do no harm to tell him. "Anoki."

Jacob nodded slowly. "And to who do you hold allegiance?"

Anoki blinked, clasping her hands behind her back and standing at a perfect parade rest, she looked like she was standing in front of a review board rather than several rather angry Tok'ra who also happened to be her mortal enemies. "I hold allegiance to no System Lord."

"An Ashrak? No... a mercenary..." Jacob folded his arms and leaned back against the crystal wall. He leaned his head back, then moved slightly when Selmak loudly complained that one of the hard edges of the crystals was digging into her. "How long have you been among us?"

"Well, I'm just not sure, it's been so long." Anoki tilted her head and raised an eyebrow. "The days blur together after a while. Has anyone ever told the council how unutterably dull it can be around here?"

'Jacob, I want to speak to her.' Selmak said to her host, accompanying the words with a mental nudge to get his attention.

"What happened to Genra?" Selmak asked. Anoki pretended to think hard about that.

"Ah yes," she finally said. "The previous owner of this body."

"This may seem like an odd concept to a creature such as yourself," Selmak said, glowering a little. "But Helen is the owner of the body. You merely co-habitat with the host."

Anoki shook her head with a slight smile, as one would when gently correcting a child's error. "If the hosts were meant to be the true owners of this crude form," Anoki held out her hands, palm outwards, as if to demonstrate. "Then they would not be so easy to subdue. They are weak. Imperfect."

"Human?" Selmak asked, sounding as if she was beginning to become angry.

"Precisely." Anoki said, with heat. "If we did not need these shells to survive, I would gladly never go near them again."

"You may get that chance." Selmak snapped. She gestured to Hanne, who was standing, looking quietly furious in the shadows in the corner of the room, Daralis next to her. "Healer. Remove the Goa'uld."

Hanne nodded and conferred with Daralis quietly for a moment, preparing what looked like a hypospray full of drugs. Anoki's eyes flickered between the two Healers and Selmak for several moments, growing more panicked by the minute. When Hanne turned around injector in hand, Anoki held up her hand.

"Wait!" she said. "If you remove me from this host and execute me, the knowledge that I possess, that I know you want, will be lost."

Selmak shook her head, repeating Anoki's expression from earlier. "If you have something we want, you haven't told us, and you said you won't tell us. Therefore we have no reason to keep you alive. Proceed, Hanne."

Hanne nodded and took a step forward, two of the guards and Daralis less than half a step behind her.

"There is another!" Anoki said, obviously terrified by now, her eyes fixed on the injector that Hanne held in her upraised hand.

"Another what?" Hanne said irritably, speaking for the first time in the conversation.

Anoki licked her lips and swallowed convulsively. "Another Goa'uld."

Jacob took over from Selmak as they waved to Hanne to make the Healer to stand back a little. Reluctantly, Hanne lowered the injector. He stepped a little closer to Anoki, using the advantage of height to intimidate her. Of course, considering the average arrogance of a Goa'uld, it wasn't a tactic that would normally have suceeded, however Anoki was already displaying a very typical Goa'uld trait: holding her own life above all other goals.

Selmak sent:
{derogatory}

Selmak said, 'Selfish creatures.'

"Another spy in our ranks." Jacob said. "Who?"

Anoki smiled, obviously thinking she now had the upper hand again. "Now if I were to tell you that, I'd lose a very important part of my leverage, wouldn't I? And in spite of a regrettable genetic anomaly which makes the Goa'uld and the Tok'ra of the same species, I am not as stupid as you. I will not give up that information so easily."

"We could torture it out of you." Hanne suggested, an odd glint in her eye. "A technique I am sure you are familiar with. I am. I'm sure I can reproduce some of the tricks I experienced. Given time."

"Hanne..." Jacob said. A warning, but not given in an unkind tone.

Hanne blanched, and bit her lip, obviously listening to internal words as well as those that came from Jacob. Her eyes slid to the side and she stepped backwards a little to stand just behind Daralis and the guards.

Jacob commented, 'She has issues.'

Selmak replied, 'This is the wrong time to allow such issues to surface.'

"I'm sure you could my dear." Anoki said to the Healer, who turned her head by only miniscule fraction to glance at the Goa'uld through a curtain of hair.

"Are you going to give us any information or not?" Jacob asked, allowing a little irritation to slip through.

Anoki was silent for nearly a minute, staring at Jacob as if she was imagining dissecting him under a microscope. "When you look at me..." she said finally, her tone almost idly wondering. "Do you think of your daughter? Do you think of what it must have been like for her? To have Jolinar take over her body, control her every thought, every feeling, and then die." Anoki tilted her head. "You cannot tell me Samantha has been the same since. Very little of the host survives. The only way she can continue to function is with Jolinar's memories to guide."

"You know that is not correct." Jacob told her icily, trying hard not to think about Sam. "I wouldn't be talking to you if it was."

"You're deluding yourself." Anoki said sharply. "If Selmak were to die, or move on to another host, can you honestly say you would be able to function? That a part of yourself wouldn't be gone?" She grinned, the sort of grin produced by a disturbed mind. "Do you want to see what's left of the host in here?"

Jacob and Selmak had time for a brief flash of horror before Anoki's head dipped in the sign that the symbiote was relinquishing control to the host.

"Oh, God!" Jacob was not the only one who flinched at that heart-rending sob. Helen was staring at her hands, perhaps remembering what she had seen them do. "This is a nightmare." she whispered, tears falling freely from her eyes. "This is a horrible dream."

"Helen," Jacob started, reaching out towards her.

"It's not is it?" Helen asked, hardly realising he was there, that anyone was in the room other than herself. She was at least reasonable calm until Jacob's hand brushed her arm, then she shrieked, and yelled, "Don't touch me!" at the top of her lungs, shying away from him.

"Helen, it's going to be alright." Selmak said, in Jacob's voice, realising that realising she was speaking to a symbiote was probably not the best thing for Helen at that moment. But Selmak couldn't sit by and not say anything. "Everything's going to be alright." She said gently.

"Get it out of me!" Helen yelled, clutching her hands together and holding them to her chest, doubling over as if in pain. "Just get it out."

"Hanne," Selmak said, prepared to order the Healer to sedate Helen.

"No." That was Anoki, having regained control of her host. She straightened up and started drying her face as if the tears were nothing more than a minor annoyance. "You will do nothing to me, or I will divulge no information."

"I assure you," Selmak said, her voice distortion returning, and a dangerous edge entering her voice, "You have given me so little to go on that I doubt you have anything of use to offer us. I have no reason to acquiese to your demands. Hanne, sedate her."

Anoki looked panicked as Hanne took the injector from Daralis. "If you do this you will never find who the spy is."

"We have our own methods of uncovering traitors." Selmak assured her.

"You can't if they're not here." Anoki said, the words coming out in a rush.

Hanne paused, and Selmak said, "So they are not on the homeworld. Thank you, Anoki, that significantly reduces the number of people who could have betrayed us."

Anoki's eyes widened, and as Hanne approached her, she tried to lunge for Jacob. The guards, however, were on edge, and managed to grab her and wrestle her to the slab before she had taken more than a few steps. Hanne reached through the guards arms and managed to press the injector against the struggling Anoki's neck. After a few moments, she stopped moving, breathing shallowly in drug-induced slumber, and the guards relaxed.

"What do we do?" Hanne asked of Selmak. "Do we attempt to remove the Goa'uld?"

Selmak hesitated for a very long moment, conferring with her host. "No. We may need to get more information, and while I hate having to put poor Helen through this trauma..." She looked at the Healer. "Will Helen be aware while they arm sedated?"

Hanne thought for a moment. "I do not believe so."

Selmak nodded. "Then that is some small comfort at least. Please continue, Hanne."

Daralis and Hanne was Selmak leave the room, obviously deep in thought.

"You can wait outside." Hanne said to the guards, almost as soon as Selmak had left earshot. They hesitated a moment, before they remembered that it was Councillor that was giving them their orders, and they quickly took up positions outside the chamber.

Hanne stared at Helen's body for a moment, then turned to Daralis. "Get me one standard dosage of kira'na'ti."

Daralis hesitated, hands poised over the array of drugs at her disposal. "A neural solvent?" she asked, obviously puzzled. "But Selmak said we were not to attempt to remove the Goa'uld. A neural solvent would dissolve the connection between host and symbiote."

"Are you questionning my judgement?" Hanne asked, giving Daralis a glare, daring her to do just that.

"No," Daralis said quickly. "Of course not."

Hanne said nothing, merely holding out her hand for the injector. In a quick deft motion, Daralis grabbed the relevant drug and pushing the injector into Hanne's grasp, as if wanting to touch it for as short a time as possible. Hanne stared at her for a moment, then turned her attention to the unconscious Helen, gently rolling her head to the side and brushing aside her hair so that her neck was exposed. Hanne motioned to Daralis to hold the hair to the side as Hanne started running her fingertips along the bone ridges in Helen's neck. Finally locating the symbiote, she jabbed the injector straight through the host's neck and into the symbiote, emptying the drug from the injector.

Hanne motioned to Daralis, and the Healer rolled Helen's head back to the position it had been in before, patting her hair back into place. That done, she narrowed her eyes at Hanne, who was busily putting the injector away.

"What does Olayinka think about this?" Daralis asked her superior.

Hanne just gave her a sidelong look. "You will inform no one of this, is that understood?" Daralis hesitated. "Daralis," Hanne said, leaning forward across the slab a little. "I will not allow her to continue suffering at the hands of the Goa'uld, no matter what the will of the Council. And if you recall, I am only one rank below Selmak."

Daralis nodded and offered a small smile. "I can understand that." She said, then looked down at Helen. She brushed a strand of Helen's hair out of her face, making the woman look like she was merely sleeping. "Poor thing." she said softly. "I can't imagine what it's like for her. Being trapped inside her own body."

"If she survives you can ask her." Hanne said, gathering up the equipment. "And if she does not, maybe you can ask Samantha Carter."

**

Had anyone been walking towards the quarantine lab, they would have noticed the distinct lack of attention being paid by the guards on duty. After less than a second or so, it is likely that they would have noticed that the reason for this lack of attention wasn't immediately apparent, but anyone who had tried to get their attention would have found that they were staring zombie-like at the far wall. One of the pair had bleeding from the nose. They would have also seen the nurse on duty standing facing the door of the outer office of the lab, as if she had been heading towards it, a pink file clutched in her hands, staring off into space, oblivious to anything around her. Of course, there was no one in the area, no one to see the figure moving stealthily through the lab itself.

Larrell poked the pack of saline with a finger and frowned to herself, picking up a slender packaged needle and rolling it between her thumb and forefinger. "Distressingly primitive." she murmured in the distorted voice of a Goa'uld symbiote, then glanced over at the only other occupant of the lab. "I have to wonder what you see in them?" She tossed the needle to the floor, not watching where it fell.

Lantesh gave no indication that it understood her, but floated in the tank, occasionally moving to keep position in the centre, staring at her intently. Larrell doubted the creature could understand her words, but wondered if it knew what was about to happen.

She snapped her fingers as she turned around, an expression of understanding on her face. "Oh I know what it is." she said gleefully. "It's that delightful Tau'ri, Major Carter." She aimed a glance at the door, partially open, the circuits shorted. "It's certainly not that short healer woman. Although I think you should know, I doubt Samantha's a true blonde."

Lantesh's eyes followed her as she moved around the lab, poking various objects as she went, picking some up and turning them over in her hands before tossing them to the floor. "I suppose they must have some brains, or they wouldn't have kept this." Larrell stared contemplatively at her left hand, at the burnished metal that covered her fingertips, and the jewel inset into the palm. It was obviously an old hand device, but it functioned well enough for her purposes. "I don't know where they got it from. But the guard was most reluctant to release it. I persuaded him otherwise though."

Lantesh seemed to suddenly guess that something was seriously wrong, and was backing away to the far side of its tank.

"Got to love those harakash. So useful." Larrell sighed a long suffering sigh. "Unfortunately they only work on a hominid bipedal entities and those creatures symbiotically attached to them. Pity. I would have liked to use it on you." Larrell picked up a scalpel from the tray next to the bed, now abandoned and drew the blade across the pad of her thumb, causing a thin line of bright red blood to well up. She smiled approvingly at the sharpness of the blade and wiped the blood from her already healed cut on her sleeve.

She crouched down a little, so that she was on eye level to the tank and tapped the blade against the transparent side. "Then there's this. I've never dissected a Goa'uld before. I hear Anise and Freya have, but maybe that's just tunnel talk. I'm sure it would make for extremely interesting experience."

Lantesh's jaws parted and uttered a loud screech that resonated through the liquid in the tank. Larrell rolled her eyes in exasperation.

"Oh relax, my dear, I'm not going to dissect you. I don't have enough time for that. We'll do this the old fashioned way." Larrell stood and dipped her fingers in the liquid of the tank. "Such a poor substitute for a living host, but you can't live without it."

**

Janet Frasier, doing her routine rounds of the medical level, nodded briefly to the two guards standing on duty outside the quaratine lab. "Gentlemen." she greeted, as she usually did when she passed, and expected to hear the usual return greeting. So when there was silence, she was surprised into stopping.

They didn't move. They might have been statues if it hadn't been for the pulse Janet could see beating in their neck, their jaws were clenched tightly.

"Airman Henrick." Janet said, frowning. "Why is your nose bleeding?"

No response. Not even a flicker of an eyelid.

"Airman?" Janet stepped up close to Henrick, the nearest to her and poked him firmly in the centre of his chest. She almost toppled him. She waved her hand in front of his eyes, then went to his colleague and repeated the proceedure, trying to get his attention also.

A sense of dread started to make its presence felt in Janet's stomach, like a snake uncoiling itself slowly and langrously. She swallowed, trying to impart moisture to a suddenly dry throat and flung open the first door to the quaratine lab.

**

Larrell slowly stepped backwards from the tank until she was about a meter away and raised her hand, the centre of the ribbon device glowing maliciously. "I didn't want to do this," she said to the symbiote. "Take some comfort in that. I was all for the virus doing my work for me. Trust the Tau'ri to screw that up and actually find a way to bypass the virus. A good thing really. I understand it has no cure. It's original creators didn't want there to be. Or so my host's memories say. Don't worry, Lantesh," Larrell smiled wryly. "It's nothing personal."

**

Maria MacVay, the nurse, was as unresponsive as the special forces soldiers in the corridor. Janet had actually taken the other woman and shaken her by her shoulders until the file fell out of her hands. Janet let it lie on the floor, ignoring it. The nurse's gaze remained blank and unresponsive.

"Dammit! Maria!" Janet whispered viciously, and was prepared to try and do something else to wake her up, like slapping her, when she heard an all too familiar sound coming from the lab. The sound of something that was definitely not meant to be in the lab.

"Shit!" she seethed and unceremoniously shoved Maria to the side, bolting for the door. Maria hit the wall and slid to the floor, still staring unblinkingly.

Janet flew through the airlock of the quarantine lab, ignoring the niggling part of her mind that screamed there could be possible contamination still in there, and came to a sudden halt, knocking over an instrument tray as she took in the scene before her. Larrell stood over the symbiote tank, hand device raised and obviously ready to be used.

"What are you doing?!" yelled Janet.

Later, Janet would mentally kick herself, wondering why, of all the potential things to say, she had picked that. After all, she could have ordered Larrell to desist, to stop or she would use the sidearm that all SGC personnel seemed to carry nowadays on the woman. Instead, she chose to ask what Larrell was doing, even though it was perfectly damned obvious what she was doing.

Larrell almost threw herself off balance as she whirled, her eyes glowing with the eerie glow of the Goa'uld within her. "You!" she yelled, sounded more frustrated than anything.

Janet's arm functioned of its own volition, as Janet's brain had suddenly decided to shut down in blind panic. She felt herself flinging out her arm, and somehow slamming her hand down on the panic button, causing the alert siren to sound, and red lights to flash. Larrell's mouth flattened and she swung her hand in Janet's direction.

Janet hadn't been subjected to a hand device wave before, and she would have been happy to go her life without experiencing it. It was like a solid wall had smashed into her and lifted her up, flinging her into the wall behind her. She felt her skull crack against the concrete of the wall before she slid to the floor.

"It would be you wouldn't it!" Seethed Larrell, obviously working herself up into a fury. "You of all people would walk into this place!" She came close to Janet and delivered a vicious kick to the Doctor's head. It missed her mainly, but Janet still sagged back, momentarily dazed. "I really, REALLY, don't like you." Larrell hissed, and aimed another kick at Janet's head.

This time Janet was ready for her. She moved back slightly to avoid Larrell's kick connecting, then swung her arm outwards, aiming to hit the back of the other woman's leg. She hit her mark better than she had hoped, and Larrell's leg buckled as Janet hit her. She collapsed to the floor, away from Janet, and quickly lashed out again with her leg that wasn't tingling, managing to land a blow on Janet's temple, stunning the woman into inactivity.

Larrell glanced about the lab, hearing the sound of approaching footsteps. A lot of them. And if the regularity of their step was anything to go by, it was definitely soliders that were coming from her. She quickly glanced around for another avenue of escape, and her eyes lighted on a grill on the wall. She quickly estimated its size and decided that her host body was indeed small enough to fit through such a gap. The advantages of a being that ate barely enough to keep a small insect alive. She had been so vain, obsessed with her size, only the past symbiote had stopped her from slipping into illness.

Without getting up from the floor, she raised her hand device and aimed a powerful blast at the grill. It dented the whole wall, and after a second, the grill fell off, its mountings having been flattened into something a few microns thick. She glanced at the symbiote.

The Goa'uld thought:
{I'll be back for you}

Larrell glanced at the still groggy Janet Frasier, lying on the floor just beside her, blinking groggily. "And as for you..."

**

Even before the alarm had been sounded, Major Thomas Castleman had encountered Airman Scott in the elevator, just as he had been coming out of some sort of trance. As he moaned, held his head, and muttered something about blacking out from moment he "and that Tok'ra chick" had entered the elevator, and having no memory, Castleman's mind had been working overtime on what was going on. He had quickly summoned a security team to the medical level, but as he waited for them to arrive, the alarms started going off.

As the automated message reeled off the area the alarm came from, Castleman felt his unease growing. The quarantine lab. He was halway there by the time the security team caught up with him, all armed and obviously looking to shoot something.

'Just what we need,' Castleman thought. 'A bunch of trigger happy SF's.'

"Lab now." was all he said and the team fell into step behind him as they ran for the lab.

One of the two SF's standing outside was leaning against the wall and rubbing his temple, as if suffering from a killer headache, while the other was blinking and looking around him, as if he'd lost his bearings.

"Sir?" Henrick said, looking confused at the team's presence. "What's going on, sir?"

"You don't know, airman?" demanded Castleman, glaring at him, as if it was his fault.

"No, sir. I didn't know anything was wrong." Henrick looked up, as if noticing the alert lights for the first time.

Castleman set his jaw. "Last thing you remember." he demanded.

"That Tok'ra woman was approaching us..." his colleague said, still rubbing his head. "She flashed something in our eyes... from her hand..."

Castleman didn't wait around to hear any more, he threw open the door and barged into the small room that accessed the airlock. A slight woman in a nurse's uniform was crumpled on the floor, her eyes staring sightlessly upwards. She wasn't dead though. Her chest rose and fell with light breathing. Henrick, still groggy, entered just behind the team and stooped down next to her, shaking her shoulder gently.

Castleman ignored the woman and carried on into the lab, paying no attention to the automatic warnings flashed at everyone who entered the lab, and saw the mess. An equipment tray had been knocked over, and equipment was strewn all over the lab. A low groan on the floor alerted him to Frasier's presence.

"Doctor Frasier!" Castleman knelt down next to her and looked worriedly at her. "You okay?"

"Never better." muttered Frasier thickly, and turned her head slightly to spit out the blood that had pooled in her mouth. She gave Castleman a speculative look. "Remember how I objected to Colonel O'Neill telling me I needed hand to hand training? Saying that I'd never need it?" Castleman nodded. "I take it all back." she said gratefully and extended her hand. "Help me up."

"Are you sure you should be moving?" Castleman asked her.

Frasier gave him her patented 'I'm the doctor here, not you' look, and Castleman had no choice but to help her to her feet, steadying her when she swayed on her feet, raising her hand to her head.

"What happened?" he asked her, as a noise from the office told him that the nurse was starting to come around.

"I came in the lab..." Frasier said, cradling her jaw. "Larrell was here. She was trying to kill the symbiote. The symbiote!" Frasier leant forward, trying to see the tank, almost unbalancing herself in the process, and sagged in relief when it appeared to be none the worse for events in the lab. "It wasn't the host." Frasier said.

"Where did she go?" Castleman demanded. A sick feeling in his stomach. Colonel O'Neill had insisted that Larrell was responsible. But... Doctor Jackson had vouched for her whereabouts at the time of Lanigan's murder...

"Through there." Frasier pointed.

Bits of concrete had fallen from the wall, revealing steel rods supporting the innards, where it hadn't been compressed into powder. The ventilation accessway, normally open to the rest of the system, but sealed off when the lab was under quarantine, had been ripped away.

"She could be anywhere by now." Castleman said. "I have to tell the General." he looked at Janet, still not completely together. "Are you going to be alright?" he asked.

"I'll take care of her, sir." the nurse who had been dead to the world a few minutes earlier said, entering the lab.

Castleman glanced between the two of them, uncertain for a moment, then Frasier waved her hand.

"Go tell the General," she told him. "He has to know about this."

Castleman nodded and hurried out of the room, leaving the SF's to help Janet clear the room up.

**

Maria MacVay gently felt Janet's skull with practiced hands. "No fractures." she finally said. "You may be concussed though, I think you should go and get checked out."

"In a moment," Janet said irritably, "I need to check the symbiote first."

Maria opened her mouth to ask exactly what she meant by that, and snapped it shut again with an audible click when Janet started to roll up her sleeve and headed towards the tank.

"You're going to touch it?" Maria asked, disgust tinging her voice. "What if it tries to... you know..."

Janet gave her nurse an exasperated look. "It's a Tok'ra, not a Goa'uld. They don't take hosts against their will."

Maria's muttered reply of "Tell that to Carter" was almost inaudible.

Janet ignored her and stood over the tank, peering into the depths where Lantesh was swimming around quickly, agitated. She took a deep breath and slowly dipped her hand into the warm liquid, which smelled strongly of ketones for some reason, and tried to brush her fingers along the symbiote's outer skin. She had done this a few hours earlier to make sure that there wasn't any noticeable damage to the cartilaginous tissue that made up the Goa'uld version of an endoskeleton. Lantesh hadn't done anything then to stop her.

Maybe it was because it was stronger now. Maybe it was because it knew someone had just tried to kill it. But suddenly Lantesh was no longer passive. As Janet's finger's gingerly brushed one of the spines, it whirled about and sunk its teeth, extremely sharp for penetrating a host's skin, into her wrist.

"OW!! SHIT!" Janet yanked her hand out of the water so fast, she almost took half the liquid with her. Faint traces of her blood still swirled in the tank. Lantesh had punctured her radial artery. The one people usually slashed to commit suicide. She held the wound closed with her thumb of her other hand.

"What the hell happened?" demanded Maria as she pulled some sterile bandaging out of a supply cupboard and hurried over to Janet's side.

"The little bastard bit me!" Janet snapped, ignoring the startled looks the SF's were giving her. "Ungrateful little..." Now that her hand was free as Maria worked on her wrist, she wrapped her knuckles against the side of the tank, hard. Lantesh, who was swimming hysterically in circles, screeching with whatever passed for a symbiote's vocal cords, hardly noticed it.

"It's a clean wound, but I'd say get it looked at. Tetanus booster as well?" Maria said authoritatively. Nurses were sometimes better at that tone than the Doctors. After all, they were the ones that saw to the minutia of a patient's care, and were experienced in dealing with those who thought they didn't need treatment. "Let's go." she said, starting to pull Janet in the direction of the door.

"Alright," Janet said, resigned, for the moment, to her fate. "But I want the symbiote moved to a more secure location."

Maria nodded. "I'll see to it."

"And have Doctor Henderson see to SG1 and 2 when they return. Have Doctor Roth and Technician Cole check out samples from Martouf to see how the virus is progressing when they return, and- ow! Don't press so hard!"

**

Captain Beth Fields gripped onto the outstretching branch of a tree with one hand and the back of Daniel Jackson's alice vest with her other, the pair of them leaning outwards and trying not to fall over the edge of the extremely steep incline. The reason that Fields was holding onto Daniel was because he couldn't have leant over without tumbling down himself.

"Can you see them yet?" Sam asked anxiously, hanging back slightly with Teal'c.

"You're asking me?" Fields demanded through clenched teeth. "Hurry up, Jackson!"

"I think I see them." Daniel said, ignoring Fields' command. "Jack!" He yelled down the slope. "Are you guys ok?"

"Oh yeah." came the voice, slightly dimmed by distance. "We're just peachy."

"We're trying to find another way to get down to you!" called Daniel. "Just... stay put."

"Jackson! Hurry up or you're going to be joining them!" Fields hissed, her arms beginning to tremble with muscle fatigue.

"No problem!" was the response, and Daniel turned to Fields, about to order her to pull him back from the edge, but she needed no prompting. She gave a sudden tug on the back of his jacket and he was yanked backwards, slammed into Fields, and the pair of them went tumbling to the muddy grounds, adding even more dirt to their already soiled clothing. It had apparently rained quiet fiercely on N'horkas since SG1 were last there, causing vast amounts of semi-solid mud appear on ground which had been dry and firm before.

"Ow..." groaned Fields. "I think I just fractured my spine..."

"Stop complaining." grumbled Daniel as he picked himself to his feet, and Fields struggled into a sitting position.

"I think we can get down this way." Sam said. She had moved a little way away and was pointing to a sort of natural path that wound its way down to the bottom of the incline.

"Was this here the last time you came here?" Fields asked as she picked herself off the floor, absently brushing loose bits of mud off her fatigues.

Daniel shook his head. "No... Larrell must have led us a different way than this."

"And your memory's that bad that you can't remember which way she took you?" Fields asked, sounding disbelieving as she scrunched up her eyes against the mid-afteroon glare of the sun. It seemed to be the planet's post-summer months, as the sun was low in the sky. No leaves lay on the floor though, for the simple reason that none of the trees had leaves, only spines.

Daniel didn't bother responding to that question, merely heading after Teal'c in Sam's direction. Fields fell into step behind him.

"Can you still carry him?" Sam asked, looking down at the body still held in Teal'c's arms. Over the time they had been walking, Martouf's breathing had been getting steadily shallower until now that Sam didn't know whether he was still alive. She didn't dare risk taking off the helmet of the suit and checking his pulse; the whole virus-passed-through-physical-contact thing.

"It is no great task, Major Carter." Teal'c assured her gravely, and even though there was no overt tone in his voice, Sam could almost hear him telling her not to worry. She tried to smile, but only managed a weak quirking of her lips. Then her attention was fully on making her precarious way down the steep slope, down which Jack O'Neill and Louis Ferretti had been unfortunate enough (or stupid enough) to fall down.

They were waiting for the rest of the team when they arrived. Ferreti was sitting in the mud, while Jack leant against a tree. Both of them were covered in mud from head to toe, and Sam distinctly heard Fields suppress a snigger.

She couldn't risk poking fun at them, in spite of her dark mood. "Having fun?" she asked in a faintly teasing tone.

"Carter..." Jack said, a warning in his voice.

"Sorry, sir." she said, not sounding the least bit repentant.

Fields strode up to Ferretti and offered her hand. Seeing the much smaller woman offering to help him to his feet was a little amusing to Sam, especially when Fields almost fell over herself. Fields made an "ewww!" noise as she drew her hand away, now covered in mud, then flinched a little, grinning as Ferretti flicked a little more of the soggy dirt at her in mild annoyance.

"You know, Jack," Daniel was saying, "If you hadn't tried to take a short cut down a very steep slope..."

"Shut up, Daniel."

Daniel smirked and shut up.

**

The Goa'uld base was recognisable before the team had got too close to it. Its characteristic design and shape standing out from its surroundings. What they didn't notice, however, was the huge trenches in the ground surrounding the base, not visible until they were out from the treeline and into the clearing surrounding the facility.

The ground looked like a giant hand had come and punched its fist into the soil in several places, and all over the ground were dirty white granules that hadn't been in evidence when SG1 had last come that way.

"What is that?" Daniel wondered out loud, kicking over a larger clump of mud, causing it to break apart and spill even more of the granules over the ground.

Sam knelt down and scooped up a little of the mud, rubbing it between her fingers. "It's rock salt. Gritted." she finally pronounced. "The sort they put on train lines to stop them from icing over."

"Was that here last time?" Jack asked, scuffing the dirt with the toe of his boot, showing more just under the top layer of soil.

"They probably put it here when they arrived." Daniel observed. "So nothing would grow around the facility."

"So there's no cover around the base?" Ferretti asked.

Teal'c shifted his hold on Martouf and said, "On Chulak, it was a common practice to cover the ground around the Stargate with large quantities of salt on a regular basis. It kept the area free of vegetation."

"Let's keep moving." said Jack, nodding towards the base.

The door was open.

"Is anyone else finding this disturbingly easy?" Jack asked rhetorically, earning unnerved glances from several of the team.

The inside of the facility was similarly deserted and unbarred, and rather than the usual warmth of the inside of Goa'uld buildings that they seemed to prefer (or maybe it was just the lighting that gave the sensation of being underneath heat lamps), the cool crisp air of the planet wafted through the corridors, creating a slight breath, and caused their breath to mist.

Sam shivered slightly. "Days like this, I wish I'd worn my gloves." Her fingers were pink, and ached to move.

They moved quietly along the corridor, not wanting to attract the attention of anyone left, until they came to an intersection, where they found something that Sam would rather have not found. A female corpse, wearing long, flowing robes, lay on the ground, her lips blue, her skin white, and covered with a fine layer of frost from the cold.

"Ate?" Ferretti asked.

Sam nodded.

"Lovely." murmured Fields. Neither of them had been there when Sam had killed Ate. Neither of them knew the circumstances of her death.

Sam didn't tell them.

The intersection was more of a fork in the corridor. It turned into two pathways, one right, one left. Unfortunately, none of them knew which way the throne room, containing the sarcophagus, would be in.

"You two," Jack turned to Ferretti and Fields. "Take that corridor. We'll take this one."

They nodded and headed of down the left hand corridor, while SG1 took the right.

There was only one door along the corridor. Ferretti and Fields scurried along the walls, keeping low, and took up positions on each side of the door.

[On three.] he mouthed to her.

Fields nodded her readiness, tightening her grip on her rifle slightly.

[One. Two. ... Three.]

Ferretti tapped the door mechanism and the two leapt around the doorframe in unison, both ducking low to avoid fire that might be aimed at their heads or upper bodies.

The room was empty.

"Well," said Ferretti, as Fields clambered to her feet and edged into the room.

It was a lab of some sort, filled with long stainless steel (or the Goa'uld equivalent) tables. There were two pillars reaching from floor to ceiling, triangular in shape, and on each side was a clear glassy surface, displaying various readouts and what looked like a computer generated image of a DNA molecule, in various bright colours.

"Nice place." muttered Ferretti.

"Wonder if it's where they created Martouf's virus." Fields said, wandering over to the nearest pillar and staring at the readings.

Ferretti nodded to it. "Can you read that?"

Fields gave him A Look. "You're talking to the girl who flunked every subject she ever took in her life. Who do you think I am? Sam Carter?"

Ferretti smirked. "Jealous?"

Fields gave her CO a wry look. "Me? She's beautiful, blonde, probably the most intelligent person on the planet and has as many guys drooling over her as she looks at. Why would I be?"

Ferretti asked, "Jealous?"

Fields nodded. "As hell. And so are most of the other women."

Ferretti raised an eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yeah, Sarah in SG12 tries really hard to help her with stuff in the lab, but she does it all herself before Sarah even gets a chance to show she can do really good work. She swears that's what's stopped her and about three others getting promoted. Carter has a lot of guys who want her, but I haven't been out on a date for three years since before I joined the SGC." Fields fingered the trigger on her rifle. "Some people are just born lucky." she said, obviously trying not to sound bitter.

Ferretti nudged her with his elbow. "Tell you what, if it bothers you that much, why don't we go out for a drink sometime..." he suddenly hesitated, as if realising exactly what he was saying. "I mean... if you want to-"

"I'd love to." Fields responded instantly, giving him a tremulous smile. "Just drinks though." she said after a second, sounding more like her usual acerbic self. "I mean, apart from the fact that I'd probably get in serious trouble with the General, just because I have a social life of nil doesn't mean you can expect sex on the first date."

Ferretti gave her an incredulous look for a second, then started laughing, after a second, Fields let out a chuckle of her own. Ferretti was about to suggest that they start to search another room, there was sort of a muffled squeak behind one of the further two display pillars that caught both of their attentions and brought them into a fighting stance, rifles raised and aimed towards the pillars.

"Come out with your hands above your head!" Ferretti snapped, his weapon steady.

"Please!" A high pitched female voice, thin and reedy, could be heard from just behind the furthest of the three display pillars. A small woman, shorter and more petite than Janet Frasier, wearing a grey labcoat with a symbol that looked like the head of a bull above her heart, peeked her head around, looking frightened. "I am unarmed."

"Come out with your hands above your head." repeated Ferretti.

The woman edged around the pillar, raising her hands so that they were just about at eye level. "Please, don't hurt me!" she said in a high pitched, tenuous voice. "I mean you no harm."

"We'll see about that, honey." Fields said venomously, dropping her rifle to hang by its strap and pulling out her 9mm. She strode up to the woman's side and held the weapon up so that if she did try anything, she would be shot in the head. With her free hand, she gripped the woman's upper arm.

Ferretti turned his radio on. "SG1 what is your location, over."

There was a brief pause, then Jack O'Neill's voice could be heard, distorted by static. "Ferretti, you read my mind. We've found the throne room and the sarcophagus, over."

"We've located a single female in what looks like a science lab. Orders? Over."

There was a pause, as if O'Neill was conferring with his team. "Bring her up here. Double doors in the centre of the base. Over."

"On our way. Out." Ferretti released the radio, and took up position on the other side of the small woman, also gripping her arm.

"So many people want to be close to me." the woman said, with a smile that seemed more sarcastic than was consistent with her character.

"Nothing personal," Ferretti told her. "We just don't trust you."

Fields sighed. "Let's go." she muttered, and gave the woman a jerk on the arm to start her moving.

**

Sam had never seen the inside of Ate's throne room before. She's always been lucky enough to avoid being brought inside. Beside which, this wasn't the same building as she had been held in before; that was worlds away, even if they were somewhat similar in appearance.

The room seemed somewhat threadbare in comparison to other Goa'uld rooms that Sam had seen. It made pretentions of looking wealthy, and displaying the power of its owner, but it was painfully obvious in that room that they were just affectations, a thin veneer that tried to cover the fact that this "System Lord" had practically nothing.

The sarcophagus that had belonged to the dead woman, however, was nowhere to be seen.

"I don't understand." Sam admitted. "Where is it?"

"Goa'uld do not always keep their sarcophagii in the open." Teal'c said, hanging back near the door, still gripping Martouf.

"Right," Daniel said, "I mean Shyla had hers hidden underneath a platform in her temple." Jack glanced at him. "Look, I think I'd remember." he said, somewhat defensively.

Jack made a point of looking around. "I don't see a platform." he said.

Daniel got that 'I know your being facetious, so I'll just be patient' look on his face. "I know that. So it must be somewhere else."

"Right," said Jack, as if he'd known that all along. "So start looking."

Daniel and Sam glanced at each other, then headed for the only place there was to check in the room: the walls. Teal'c gently laid the ominously still form of Martouf on the floor, before joining the others.

Sam took a deep breath and let it out slowly as she ran her fingers lightly over the wall, looking for a hidden button, panel, anything. All major pieces of Goa'uld technology contained naqada, the alien mineral that Sam also had swimming around in her bloodstream as yet another parting gift from Jolinar. And she knew, from past experience, and from experiment in thelab, that there was a sort of sympathetic resonance between particles of naqada. If she concentrated hard enough, and there was nothing else to occupy her attention or distract her, then she could sense where other concentrations of naqada were.

The Stargate was like a constant buzzing on the edge of her consciousness. No matter what world she went to, there was always a Stargate, and always a constant buss. She hadn't realised how much she was accustomed to the white noise the Gate's presence generated until she had spent all that time on the teltak, in deep space, en route to Naetu.

She could sense Teal'c's symbiote, a much more immediate sensation than that from the Gate, and another major concentration of naqada was a little to Jack's right...

"Found it." Jack said, as his fingers touched a raised hieroglyph that clicked loudly in the quiet of the chamber. A low panel slid away, causing a distinctive stone-looking object to move outwards from the wall, and open automatically.

Sam stepped forward a little and eyes the sarcophagus critically. "It looks like it's in perfect working order." she said.

Jack nodded. "Let's get Marty inside."

As Teal'c and Daniel moved towards the form on the floor, a thought seemed to occur to Jack. "I'd better get Ferretti up here." he said, starting to reach for his radio. "Don't want that pair wandering around forever."

"Knowing Ferretti," Daniel said, a little flippantly. "They've found the bar, and are perfectly happy." He held Martouf's left arm as she helped Teal'c carry him to the sarcophagus.

The radio crackled into life. "SG1, what is your location, over."

Jack reached for his radio, taking a second before he turned it on. "Ferretti, you read my mind. We've found the throne room and the sarcophagus, over."

"We've located a single female in what looks like a science lab. Orders? Over."

Jack glanced at Sam, a question in his eyes. "Maybe she was one of the Jaffa that was left behind when the base was evacuated, or some other such person."

Jack nodded and fingered the radio. "Bring her up here. Double doors in the centre of the base. Over."

"On our way. Out."

Sam had gripped Martouf's legs as Ferretti spoke, and had helped to move him into the glowing inside of the sarcophagus, which started to close over him as soon as he lay till.

They stared at the closed lid in silence for a moment, then Jack spoke.

"Now what?"

Daniel almost sighed. "Now we wait."

Jack looked at him. "Wait for what?"

The doors of the throne room swung open to admit a trio of people, causing SG1 to turn away from the sarcophagus and grip their weapons uncertainly. When they could see it was one half of SG2, and their prisoner, they relaxed imperceptively.

The pair were escorting a rather fragile looking woman into the room, both gripping her tightly by the arms. She was wearing what was obviously a lab workers outfit (being plain, grey, and obviously made of tough material) and had shoulder length red hair plastered against her skull with some sort of gel, and tied into a tight braid.

"This is the woman we found." Ferretti said, nodding to the redhead.

Sam's eyes narrowed, and her mouth went dry as she glared at the woman. "You're Goa'uld." she said, turning the statement into an accusation with her tone.

There wasn't much more Ferretti and Fields could do, considering that they were still holding her and Fields had her 9mm trained on the woman, but each of them tightened their grips on her upper arms. Jack and Teal'c swung their weapons in her direction.

"No!" The woman shook her head sharply, causing whisps of hair to come loose from her braid. "You don't understand. I'm not a God." She couldn't move her arms much, but she gestured to her abdomen with her hand. "My name is Orelei, I am Jaffa. I carry one of the larval Goa'uld within me. I was a technical and scientific worker for Our Lady Ate."

Jack looked at her. "What happened here?" he said, jerking his chin to indicate the deserted base.

Orelei glanced nervously about her before responding. "The others," she said. "They ran. When Our Lady died, the Jaffa wanted to leave. Some wanted to stay... they fought. All dead. They only missed me because I was small and beneath their notice." She spoke in a whisper. Sam couldn't tell whether that was because she was sad, or because she was angry.

"What sort of scientist were... are you?" Daniel asked, folding his arms.

"My speciality is... n'charo netal. Ah..." Orelei searched for the words. "I study life and viruses."

"You're a virologist?" Sam said. At Orelei's nod, she said, "Did you, by any chance, work on a rather nasty virus recently?" She tried to stop herself from grabbing the woman by her shoulders and shaking her until she talked.

Orelei thought for a moment. "Yes," she said finally.

"Did you test it on anyone human?" Jack asked, his voice low, dangerous.

Orelei shook her head. "Oh no. But there was a Tok'ra here that Our Lady insisted on testing it on. I would have recommended more simian testing first, after all, we weren't quite certain what the virus was created to do, exactly, I mean, it wasn't ours, but Our Lady insisted."

Sam swallowed, trying to fight the urge to hit the woman. She didn't seem to give a damn about what she'd done.

Jack gestured to the woman with his weapon. "Take her back to the Gate. We'll take her back to Earth with us, see what we can get out of her."

Fields was probably a little rougher than necessary in jerking Orelei around, but no one seemed particularly inclined to comment on it.

**

"What's your world like?"

The question came out of nowhere. Ferretti glanced in surprise at the woman, and then returned his attention to the corridor they were leading her down.

"You'll see soon enough, honey." said Fields in a venomous tone.

Ferretti gave her a puzzled glance. 'Bitchy, much?' he asked her silently. Unfortunately, she hadn't recently developed telepathy, and so was immune to the question. It just wasn't like Fields to be so edgy.

"I see." Orelei paused, walking in silence for a few steps. "And what would my role be on your world."

"Don't know, don't really care." Ferretti said.

"Lab rat?" suggested Fields off-handedly.

Orelei slowed her step a fraction and smiled oddly at Fields. Then she narrowed her eyes to shield against the light as an eerie glow filled the air.

Ferretti suddenly gasped, or at least tried to. He couldn't move, couldn't blink, couldn't even breathe. It felt like every nerve in his body was on fire, burning him from the inside out. He collapsed to his knees, unable to control his body, and realised dimly that Fields had collapsed slightly in front of him. Unable to stop, he crumpled onto the floor, before finally slipping into blessed unconsciousness.

**

Ate watched in satisfaction as the two Tau'ri collapsed under the influence of the paralysis field. She had hoped that they would have been stupid enough to leave her unattended for the few moments it would take to grab a hand device, but obviously that hadn't been the case. Ate, however, was very proud of her ability to anticipate all eventualities. Such as forcefields coded to ignore her own genetic structure, and incapacitate anyone else.

Ate strode over the pair and headed in the direction of her throne room, picking up a hand device from the corpse of her previous host en route. She hadn't thought that they would return to her world, if she had, she would have retained some of her Jaffa, but she had needed to 'let' them return to their homeworlds (she had tried her best to stop them). No matter; they were there now, and she had the means to destroy them.

**

When the lid started to move, revealing the occupant of the sarcophagus, Sam was the first to reach his side, moving the fastest. She half started to reach out to take his hand, but some distant part of her, some remnant of Jolinar stopped her.

The memories screamed:
{DO NOT DO THAT!}

Sam jerked her hand back.

Martouf, she could see (as could the others, having approached when she wasn't looking) was staring up at the ceiling, blinking groggily, obviously trying to work out where he was, and what was happened. Slowly, he started to sit up.

He reached his hands up towards his face, but were stopped by the faceplate. He made a vague noise of confusion at suddenly realising he was wrapped in a sealed, plastic suit, and started to try and find the edges.

"It's a quarantine suit. No... don't take it off." Sam's hands made vague fluttering gestures that seemed to be trying to stop him from taking the helmet of the suit off.

Ferretti had managed to get to his feet, and was now hauling a quietly protesting Fields up as well. The two of them hung back, watching the scene in silence.

Martouf's eyes connected with Sam's for a moment, then they went to the side, as if listening for something distant and quiet, and not hearing it.

"Lantesh?" Sam's heart decided to leap into her throat. He sounded so lost, so along. Martouf raised his hand to the back of his neck in what seemed like an unconscious gesture, feeling for what wasn't there. He looked around at the anxious faces surrounding him. "Where's Lantesh? What's going on?" He dropped his hand as he realised where he was, and ran his fingers across the raised hieroglyphs of the sarcophagus.

"What have you done?" he whispered.

"Martouf," Sam said, striving to keep her voice even. "I understand how you're feeling right now. But this was necessary..."

Martouf's head snapped upwards, fixing her with a piercing gaze. "Necessary?!" he spat, and stood up from his seated position in the sarcophagus, carefully climbing out of the device. It was obvious he was still disorientated, as he swayed uncertainly on his feet as they touched the floor. Sam reached for him automatically, but he glared at her with such malice that she dropped her hands.

"Where is Lantesh? Why did you put me in a sarcophagus, and what is going on?" Martouf practically yelled, stepping closer to Sam with each question.

She opened her mouth to respond, her throat having closed up, but had to close her eyes briefly as-

//... my host stares in disbelief at our mate, and I cannot help but be completely immobilised by terror, forcing myself to set about healing her, my conscious mind still whirling at what he has done, and knowing that I will not be able to help her this time.

Casilda makes a choking noise, struggling to breath, as warm fluid starts filling one of her lungs, the jagged piece of metal still lodged between her ribs, causing even more damage to the delicate tissues each time she stuggles for breath. Her hand goes there instinctively, and I can feel, through her, the warm red fluid which is gushing out. She staggers slightly, and falls against the edge of the bed, trying not to slide to the floor.

"OH DEAR GODDESS!" a near shriek comes from the doorway, and I see out of the corner of our vision Kee'zha/Olayinka standing there, her usually dark olive complexion ashen.

"Get away from her!!" she yells. "TOK'RA KREE! N'MARET KREE!!" Our mate tries to rush past her, towards the exit, but she blocks him, doubling him over with a kick to the midsection. It must have been with tremendous force, as it almost causes him to fall. He is quickly up though. The guards enter, and, seeing the scene, grab him. He tries to fight them for a moment, attempting to flee, before being wrestled into a prone position on his knees.

Kee'zha rushes over to us, and grips Casilda's arm gently, trying to manoeuvre us onto the bed as gently as possible. "Casilda, Jolinar," Kee'zha's soft voice is barely heard in Casilda's ears. "You'll be alright... I promise..."

Casilda looks back at our mate as she falls to the ground, unable to support herself any longer, and feels blood starting to well up in her throat. I suppress her cough reflex, knowing that if she starts coating her lungs with blood, it will only make my job harder.

Kee'zha follows us to the floor, her fingers trying to staunch the bleeding even as she yells for more healers, someone, anyone, with medical knowledge. But neither I, nor my host hears her words as more than a distant drone. Casilda's eyes are fixed on his face, unable to look away.

Our mate doesn't even seem to realise that he has consigned Casilda to death. His face has a crazed look he has had since he was rescued from Apophis' world. He half sobs something about having to get back, how he can't survive without "it". We should have realised that merely sedating him wouldn't be enough to fight the sarcophagus addiction...//

Sam raised her hands in a defensive gesture, forcing herself to stand her ground. In spite of the little voice inside her that was screaming to run and hide. "Martouf-"

"Stop saying that! I know my own name!"

Sam swallowed convulsively. "We have to separate you from Lantesh. The virus in your system was killing him. We put you in a sarcophagus to heal the damage caused by the virus." She stepped back slightly, to avoid him when he started to reach for her, obviously afraid.

Martouf shook his head, staring at her in disbelief. "How could you?" he whispered. "You, of all people, should know better. Not only about that... that thing," he pointed a finger at the sarcophagus. "But you should know that unblending Lantesh and I-"

That was when Jack moved, so quickly that Sam didn't react for a few seconds. While they had been speaking, he had been conferring with Daniel in a low tone, which Sam had automatically tuned out, and then he had started to manoeuvre himself into position just behind Martouf. Then he had reached out with a lightening fast move and pressed an injector against the neck of the suit, where the material was fairly thin.

Martouf started to turn, to try and retaliate, but without a symbiote, he stood no chance of defeating the drug and staying conscious, as Jolinar once had. Within seconds, he was lying unconscious on the floor.

Sam started dumbstruck for a few moments, then she raised her head to glare at Jack. "What did you do that for?" she demanded.

"Doc said he probably wouldn't be particularly happy when he woke up to find Lantesh gone. She suggested this," Jack waved the injector, and Sam could see the label indicated it had contained a rather potent mix of drugs. "If he started getting nasty."

"He wasn't getting nasty." Sam said, feeling moved to defend Martouf on that front, even though she didn't sound entirely convinced. She crouched down next to him and glanced at him, through the faceplate of the suit. He wasn't as palid now, and his breath was deep and steady. He was once again perfectly healthy, only asleep.

"Which is why you turned three shades of pale, right, Carter?" Jack said, regarding Martouf warily.

Teal'c followed his gaze. "Does this mean I have to carry Martouf once more, O'Neill?"

Jack sighed. "'Fraid so, Teal'c."

The doors started to open again, and Jack had time to mutter, "What are /they/ doing back?" before he and Teal'c were flung backwards to hit the far wall with loud expletives on Jack's part, and the sound of flesh on marble on Teal'c's part. Daniel froze when he saw their attacker, and Sam, who had had her back to the door, slowly turned to look.

The redheaded lab worker was standing behind her, holding a hand device up and glowing, her eyes lit up with a yellowish glow.

'I should have known.' thought Sam, more annoying than upset. 'I never have it that easy.'

Sam narrowed her eyes. "Didn't I kill you?"

Ate shrugged, not moving her hand away from aiming at them. "Well, fortunately this rather dim little technician chanced upon my body and provided me with a nice new host. Granted, a host that had one or two internal organs missing," She patted her abdomen, where the Jaffa pouch was located. "But that's really not a problem for me to handle."

"Where are the others?" Daniel asked, not moving.

Ate made a show of thinking hard. "I'm not certain. Dead, unconscious, I don't know. Didn't bother to check." She raised her chin slightly. "However, I /will/ make certain you are all dead. And the Tok'ra you placed in my sarcophagus."

She raised her hand.

Two shots rang out simultaneously, creating a bang that caused all to flinch. Ate looked faintly surprised, and fell forward, lying unmoving on the floor. Sam looked up from the body to see Ferretti and Fields, both holding 9mm guns, looking something between exhausted and extremely pissed off.

"What happened to you two?" Jack asked, after he had taken in the body on the floor.

"Oh, you know," Fields said, her arm dropping to her side and falling to her knees in exhaustion. Ferretti soon joined her in sitting on the floor. "Energy field, unconsciousness, massive pain. No biggie."

"I feel like every joint in my body was pulled apart then put back together." Ferretti nodded. "I'm great."

Sam stared at the body on the floor, then slowly stepped forward and pulled of Ate's hand device, under the puzzled watch of her team-mates. She pocketed the device and turned around to Teal'c, holding out her hand.

"Teal'c, can I have the zat gun, please?"

Teal'c glanced at Jack, then pulled out the weapon and handed it to Sam. Before she could be stopped, Sam fired three times at the body of the Goa'uld Queen. The body seemed to ripple slightly before vanishing into nothingness. She turned, ignoring the open mouths of the others, and handed back the weapon to Teal'c.

"I'm sick of people like that not staying dead." she said, in explanation, and walked over to the Martouf's side.

Jack followed her with his eyes, then glanced at Daniel and Teal'c. "Right. Hate that."

**

Dave Kingston dug the toe of his boot into the soil just by the DHD, and grimaced as several alien insects came scurried out of the fallen spines and ran off in various directions. Mike Hunter, sitting on the steps to the Gate, sighed and tossed a fragment of an MRE onto the ground, and watched the insects that Kingston had disturbed carry it off to wherever it was they lived.

"They've been gone too long." he said, frowning.

Kingston straightened, looking into the distance. "Speak of the devil." he muttered.

Kingston pointed. About fifty meters away was SG1, Teal'c carrying an orange garbed figure slung over one shoulder, to which Sam kept shooting nervous glances. The other half of SG2 trailed a few meters behind, shuffling along miserably, and looking as if they were going to collapse at any moment.

"What happened to you two?" Hunter asked of Fields and Ferretti as they came within earshot. "You look like hell."

"Shut up, Mike." They chorussed irritably.

Hunter just grinned and turned his attention to the GDO in his hands. Five minutes later, they were standing at the top of the ramp, taking in the scene. Red lights were glowing, even after the gate had shut down, the defense guards looked all on edge, there were SF's stationed in the control room, all armed, and General Hammond and Major Castleman were standing there.

Jack took all this in within a few seconds and then asked, "We missed something happening, didn't we?"

**

Dalir didn't particularly want to go and check up on Helen, content with receiving the information second hand from others, but Breia insisted, and so they went in the direction of the medical wing, surreptitiously avoiding messengers and runners employed by various Division Leaders to run errands. Neither Breia nor Dalir had any wish to be waylaid by a Division that thought it needed the Council's assistance.

The medical wing, consisting of three main corridors branching off from a central point, with dozens of rooms and smaller, narrower tunnels interconnecting the three corridors. Hanne and Olayinka's chamber, a sort of office, was one of the first rooms in the largest of the three corridors, so that was where Breia headed to first.

Hanne was sitting at her desk, and had apparently laid her head on her arms and fallen asleep. Her long white hair spilled over her shoulders and arms and onto the surface of the desk; she had apparently taken it out of her clip. She looked much more peaceful in sleep than when she was awake, as she always seemed to walk around looking as if she had worked herself into a constant state of anger-

'Or pain?' enquired Dalir.

-and Breia was loathe to disturb her, so went in search of the other Healer who had been seeing to Helen.

What she found was Chavi/Mitena, standing over Helen's body with a contemplative look on her face, one hand rested on the girl's hand. Even though the Evaluator had her back to the door, Breia had the distinct impression that she smiled slightly before saying, "Greetings Breia. I'm afraid I dismissed the Healers for the moment." She turned and blinked at Breia.

Breia raised an eyebrow slightly and stepped closer to the bed, staring at the unconscious woman lying upon it. "Are you sure that is wise?" she asked her fellow Councillor. "The Goa'uld may be under the influence of a neural paralysis agent, but we both know that is no guarantee."

Chavi waved a hand to dismiss Breia's concerns. "There are guards outside this door and posted at every intersection for this entire sector." She paused, as if listening hard to something. "And she is most certainly unconscious."

"You are certain you know that?" Breia asked, then hesitated at Dalir's mental tap on the shoulder.

Dalir said, 'Of course she does.'

"Of course I do." Chavi said softly.

Dalir said, 'See.'

"Of course you do." repeated Breia, inclining her head in acknowledgement. "It was foolish of me to suggest otherwise."

Chavi nodded. "Yes, it was." She fell silent, staring intently at Helen, as if trying to pull information out of the woman simply by the power of her gaze. Finally, Breia said,

"Why are you here? You cannot offer her your services as an Evaluator while she lies unconscious." Breia said.

Chavi shook her head, small ringlets of hair falling about her head as she did so. "You misunderstand my purpose." she said. "I can evaluate someone, even as they sleep." She offered Breia a sidelong look. "As I can evaluate you even now. You, however, are a very controlled individual."

Breia narrowed her eyes, changing the subject away from herself. "And what have you found out from Helen and her Goa'uld captor?"

Chavi took a deep breath and returned her eyes to the bed. She was stroking the sleeve of her outer robe, as if the repetitive movement seemed to soothe her somewhat before she spoke. "The Goa'uld, Anoki, is terrified. Fearing it is loosing its existence. A loss of control which it despises." Chavi blinked and turned her eyes away from the figure on the table, looking at Breia. "Helen is screaming. I cannot hear her, but she is trapped within a non-functioning body, under the control of a Goa'uld. She has been forced to watch herself do harm to others. She cannot do that for long, and still retain her sanity."

Breia's mouth thinned, but she said nothing, just looking at the deceptively serene face of Helen as she slept on, oblivious to the conversation about her. Chavi's head slowly raised to stare directly at Breia.

"Is that pity I detect?" she said softly, with a smile. "A crack in your unemotional armour?"

"Spare me." Breia said dryly, ignoring her own symbiote's gentle teasing.

Chavi tilted her head. "She reminds you of Hanne, does she not? Were you not one of those who rescued her from the Goa'uld? And convinced her that hosting a symbiote was in her own interests, despite her feelings on the subject?"

"Doubtful." Breia said, keeping herself calm. "Helen is not as tall."

"Hmm..." Chavi said non-commitantly. "I wonder-"

Suddenly she broke off mid-sentence, and hissed loudly, drawing away from the bedside and clenching her fists. Breia opened her mouth to ask her what was wrong, and Helen began to scream.

She screamed.

And screamed.

Hanne, obviously awoken by the noise, rushed into the room, her hair in a state of disarray, and virtually threw Breia against the wall in her rush to get to her patient. A split second later, Daralis, and two other healers entered in a hurry, accompanied by guards who had heard the scream and thought someone was being murdered.

Hanne was swearing fluently in her own language, which neither Breia nor Dalir could, or really wanted to, translate. Suddenly she turned, "Everyone who isn't a Healer, GET OUT!" she yelled, grabbing a bioscanner and flipping quickly through the readings.

Breia gripped Chavi's elbow, the woman looking like she was suffering from an intense headache, and nodded to the guards to leave the chamber, uttering rapid commands in Goa'uld. Once they left the chamber, Chavi seemed to sag in relief, even as she glanced back towards the room they had just left, where loud screams of what was obviously pain could be heard.

"What?" Breia asked, worried.

Chavi, in her usual graceful manner, extricated herself from Breia's grip before the Councillor even realised what Chavi was doing. She sighed and smiled somewhat sadly. "Anoki is trying to kill her host." she said simply, and started to move away, her gliding steps causing her robe to billow around her.

Breia raised an eyebrow and shook her head, feeling pity for the host who lay in that room. She left the tunnel, heading for her own quarters.

**

Healers were running around frantically, responding the the Senior's snapped orders, and two infirmary assistants (non-healers who had been drafted in as an emergency measure) were trying to hold Helen down as she thrashed about, trying to prevent her from damaging herself. She was screaming herself hoarse, her skin flushed, and her eyes wide and bloodshot. Every time the Healers thought her voice would give out on her, she seemed to find more of her voice from somewhere.

"She's undergoing massive organ failure. Internal bleeding." Daralis reported tersely, a biomonitor clutched in her hands that cast a ghoulish blue glow on her face.

"Tell me something I don't know." Hanne said, an honest request for information, rather than just a sarcastic throwaway, as many of those present thought.

"I don't understand these readings!" Daralis said, sounding more than a little helpless, and waved the biomonitor's datapad in the air, not once taking her eyes off them. "Everything we introduce into her system, biological, chemical, it's all instantly rejected. I'd recommend technological, but last time I checked, we didn't have any nanocites."

"Be great if we did." someone said.

"Don't the Goa'uld ones all denature whenever they're removed from a host though?" someone else said. "So we can't get them."

"Poor worksmanship. Cutting corners and not installing a dormancy routine." the first person said in a derogatory tone. "Although, didn't we experiment-"

"Quiet!" snapped Hanne, who looked like she was about to bite through her lip as she prepared a shot of what looked like another neural paralysis agent. "Maybe the Goa'uld activated the host's immune response and is augmenting it."

"But that would harm the Goa'uld as well." Daralis point out.

Hanne shrugged as she gestured to two assistants to hold Helen's head still so she could inject the drug directly into a vein. Disturbingly, her convulsions didn't ease. "It's desperate."

Daralis looked thoughtful. "Immunosuppresants?" she asked.

"Perhaps. Do we have any of the nitraxi-bentak blend-?" Hanne said, or started to say, as she leaned slightly over Helen in order to adjust the biomonitor on Helen's thorax so that it gave a better reading on her cardio-pulmonary system.

Hanne barely had time to let out a little squeak before Anoki's hand clamped around her neck and pulled her close to her face. Hanne barely managed to get her fingers underneath the Goa'uld's iron grip, doing her best to keep her throat from being completely closed off. She felt bones snap in her hands. There was distinct disadvantages to being low-gravity adapted.

"You bitch," Anoki hissed, quietly, venomously, so that the Healers who were running around couldn't hear her. Hanne barely heard Daralis barking orders for some of the strongest sedatives they had over the rushing of blood in her ears. "You did this to me. A solvent. Dissolving me from the inside out!"

Hanne coughed, a quiet, strangled sound. "A slow... painful death... Least... you deserve."

Olayinka sent:
{puzzlement}

Olayinka said, 'Hanne. What's she talking about? When did you administer-?'

Hanne sent:
{SHUT UP}

Hanne mentally slammed her symbiote, instantly inducing torpor. When Olayinka awoke, she'd think that the pressure on Hanne's neck had caused her to fall into her state of hibernation.

Daralis snapped, "The Goa'uld's rejecting the drugs! We need something else!"

Anoki glowered. "The Council wouldn't have ordered this. I'm too valuable. In fact... didn't Selmak tell you not to?" Anoki tightened her grip on Hanne's neck, completely cutting off her airflow now, and pulled her so that she was less that a fingerbreadth away from Anoki's face. "Unless... you're not working for the Council anymore."

That was when a fist cut across Hanne's vision and struck Anoki on the temple. As she fell into instant unconsciousness, Hanne fell to the floor, clutching her injured hand to her chest, and rubbing her throat with her unbroken one. The guard pulled back his fist as Daralis nodded approvingly.

"Crude. But very effective. Gratitude." she said to the guard. "Now get me a healing device."

Daralis crossed to Hanne's side, as she lay on her back, coughing loudly. "Calm down," she murmured gently, running her fingers over Hanne's injured hand, eliciting hisses, and then accepting the healing device from the guard who brought it to her.

"Hanne... you have some broken bones in your hand," Daralis said, as the bright glow of the healing device lit up the area about them. She moved it up to the Healer Senior's neck and nodded slowly. "A few burst capilliaries and a bruised hyoid bone. You'll be fine." Daralis deactivated the device and knelt by Hanne's side a moment longer while the other woman got her breath back. "How's Olayinka?"

"Unconscious." said Hanne in a very breathy voice. Then she cleared her throat and made a conscious attempt to put more volume into her tone. "Help me up."

Daralis gripped Hanne's newly healed hand and used it to help lever the woman to her feet. Hanne brushed her off once she was on her feet and staggered over to Helen's bedside, grabbing the biosensor readout off a junior healer with a glower, and examining the data.

"Oh no..." she whispered.

"What?" Daralis asked, stepping closer and trying to peer at the readings, having to stand on the tips of her toes for a moment because of the angle the much taller Healer was holding the datapad at. "The Goa'uld?"

"It's injected neural tendrils directly into her hindbrain."

"What?" Daralis, giving up on attempting to see the readings, just craned her neck to look at Hanne. "It should have lost that ability when it was first transfered to a host, after the metamorphosis."

"Along with the hide mottling and spine growth, I know." Hanne let out a sharp breath. "Maybe it's a random mutation. Maybe it's a recent birth and this is more common among symbiotes today. The Tok'ra don't exactly have a modern gene pool."

"I heard that." Eirene said in amusement, before allowing an annoyed looking Daralis to resume control. "Whatever it is," she said. "It doesn't matter. If we don't remove the Goa'uld, the tendrils will start causing severe neurological damage." Daralis managed to get a glimpse of the readings. "Even if we remove it's physical body, if we leave it much longer, its tendrils will remain to keep control of the host." Daralis hesitated, then plunged on. "You know there's only one option."

Hanne looked sharply down at Daralis, but to Daralis' surprise, she said nothing. Just blinking contemplatively. When it looked like Hanne wasn't going to say anything, Daralis asked,

"Would you like me to ask Selmak?"

"No." Hanne said in a small, quiet... terrified... voice. She handed the datapad to Daralis. "I'll do it."

**

Saleil and Oritu found Zeboary in the small room set up for exercising, for those that had the time and inclination. Exercise wasn't really something that Tok'ra required as a matter of course. Their symbiotes regulated their bodies to the degree that the hosts were always in optimum health. The only time Tok'ra were generally to be found in that room was when they were brushing up on their hand to hand combat skills. Which is what Zeboary was doing. Rather spectacularly.

Zeboary knocked the heavy duty practice post to the floor as Saleil entered.

Saleil watched her as she stood there for a moment, breathing heavily, and decided that she hadn't seen him enter. "Need a live partner?"

Zeboary whirled, startled, but nodded, sending whisps of hair in front of her face. "Fine." she said, an edge of viciousness in her voice.

Oritu sent:
{apprenhension}

Oritu said, 'Are you sure this is such a good idea?'

"If you think you can handle it." Zeboary added, almost as an afterthought.

Saleil nodded and stepped into the room, feeling a slight surge of energy as Oritu tapped his adrenal gland. Physically, he and Zeboary were fairly equally matched; she a little shorter, but he had a feeling that her sudden burst of anger would give her an edge.

As he raised his arms and took up a guard stance, Saleil nodded to Zeboary's now extremely blue hair. It had been dark brown before. "Do something to your hair?"

Zeboary looked slightly guilty for a moment, then set her jaw. "Why shouldn't I?" she demanded. "It's my hair."

Saleil nodded slowly. "Alright... but I just wanted to know where you got the due from. I've been thinking of going for purple for a while now."

Zeboary almost cracked a smile, then she struck, swinging out with her left hand, intending to strike him across the temple. Saleil blocked it easily and they started circling one another warily.

"So," Saleil said conversationally. "Want to talk about it?"

Zeboary blinked. "What's to talk about?"

Saleil aimed a kick at her midsection. She sidestepped and gripped his ankle, using her leg to sweep his other foot out from under him, causing him to land loudly on the slightly springy moss that had been specially grown and transplanted from hydroponics, which served as a sort of matting for the room. He rolled and leapt to his feet before Zeboary could push her advantage, taking up the guard position again.

Oritu sent:
{irritation, exasperation}

Oritu said, 'Well done. Intercostal muscles bruised. Hurry up and get her talking before you break something.'

"I heard they offered you a Council post." Saleil said, blocking a series of punches and returning with one or two of his own.

Zeboary deflected the blows and spin away, attempting to sideswipe his knees but missing. "You're probably heard right." she said.

Saleil waited for her to say something else, but received only silence, punctuated by Zeboary's harsh breathing. She sounded like she was struggling for air but showed no signs of stopping. "You're going to accept, I presume." he said, prompting her.

"Oh I don't know." Zeboary said, and grabbed Saleil's wrist as he tried to punch her, and raised it, exposing the ribs, to which she delivered a strong kick, winding him.

"But... no one... ever refused... to be Counsel." Saleil gasped, struggling to breathe.

"First time for everything." Zeboary snapped, clenching her fists so hard that her knuckles turned white.

Saleil slowly straightened. "Why?" he asked.

"What?"

"You heard me. Why?"

Zeboary hesitated, eyes sliding sideways. "Because." she said.

Saleil nodded and pursed his lips, grateful for the brief respite from combat. "Have you talked with Chavi? Mitena?"

"No!" Zeboary cried, then suddenly lowered her voice. "I mean, no."

"Why?"

"That word again!" Zeboary threw up her hands in frustration. "Because as much as I love her, I can do without Chavi reading and commenting on every damned emotion I possess. Mitena's not so bad, she's mind blind, but..." Zeboary faltered, then smiled ruefully. "What I get for having a mindhealer sensitive for a mate."

"She must be great in bed." Saleil said off-handedly.

Zeboary stared at him in something akin to mild horror for a moment, then started to laugh. And if the laugh had a slightly hysterical edge to it, Saleil was inclined to ignore it, as Zeboary sank to the spongy floor and extended her legs, leaning back on her hands and trying to get her breath back, occasionally giggling at the absurdity of Saleil's statement.

"Hmm... quite." was all she had to say on that subject. Then her smile fell and her breathing eased considerably. "Oh, Saleil, what am I supposed to do? I can't accept this position. We can't."

Saleil sat down on the moss in front of her so he could look her in the eye. "Why not? Tell me. We've been friends for centuries. I would have thought you'd trust me by now."

Zeboary shook her head sadly, and Saleil could hear her symbiote's accent and inflections as she spoke, as many hosts did when they and their hosts tended to when they spoke of one mind, rather than of one mind in dominance over the other. "We can't be Council. They tell us we are. But we can't. We don't want that responsibility. We can't handle it."

"Zeb..." For once, Zeboary didn't respond to the diminuitive version of her name. "You're Council. Your word is quite literally law." Saleil looked at her intently, trying to impress this point on her. "If you were to tell people to lie down and die for the cause, they would do so without hesitation. You must handle that."

"And they have done. They laid down their lives and the died on the Council's orders." Zeboary said in a quiet voice. "But how can we be Council? When we are resonsible for so many deaths? Thirty two Tok'ra and their hosts died. Two of them would have lived if there had been hosts available. It is our fault."

Oritu said, 'Misery squared. Lovely.'

"If you think that, then the Goa'uld are one step closer to having won." Saleil said.

Zeboary looked at her hands and tried to hide her wry smile. "You sound like Garshaw." she said, meaning it seriously, but trying to make it sound like a joke.

Saleil inclined his head briefly. "Then I'm in good company."

There was a long silence that seemed to stretch into minutes. Saleil said nothing, and Oritu said nothing to his host, perhaps worrying that even that inaudible mental whisper would somehow disturb the pair and their decision making.

"Alright," Zeboary said, sounding a little reluctant, but a little more confident now. "I'll do it." Then she smiled and gave Saleil a playful poke in the stomach. "But only because you asked."

Saleil smiled.

**

Yosef and Garshaw had been changed by healers into an outfit that was appropriate for sleeping, as it was looser and allowed greater freedom of movement than her usual dress. The glow of the biosensor could just be seen through the cloth, and the sheet on her pallet had been drawn up to her waist. She was breathing deeply and evenly, her face peaceful. At that moment, both Jacob and Selmak would have given a lot to have been able to look that peaceful, ignorant of the outside world.

Selmak said, 'As someone famous on the Tau'ri said... "Ignorance is bliss".'

Jacob returned, '"Mind over matter".'

Selmak sent:
{snerk}

Selmak said, 'I know that one! "If you don't mind, it doesn't matter". Tsk, tsk, Jacob. I know all the cliches now.'

Jacob said, "Funny woman," aloud.

Soft footsteps paused just outside the entranceway to Garshaw's chamber, but not before Jacob heard them and Selmak sensed the presence of someone who had the definite taste of a Tok'ra.

"Hanne?" Jacob said, looking at the Healer, who appeared even more palid than usual, her skin tone almost matching her hair colour. "What's wrong?"

"It's... ah... it's Helen." Hanne said, coming further into the room, her hands laced tightly together, her knuckles gone white. "The Goa'uld. It's... killing her."

Jacob felt a huge crushing sense of disbelief and sagged against Yosef's pallet. Somehow, just the fact that the girl was from the same planet as he gave him some measure of kinship to her. Selmak had chided him for outdated emotional ties on more than one occasion, but Jacob simply couldn't shake it.

"How?" he asked, sounding tired.

"It's disrupting her nervous system. I estimated less than an hour until her neurons are so scrambled she'll be mind-wiped or dead." Hanne bit off her words at the end of her sentence, and studiously avoided looking at Jacob.

Jacob nodded slowly. "What do you propose to do then?"

Hanne hesitated, looking like she was torn in an internal decision about whether to tell him or not.

"Hanne?" Jacob prompted, an irritated tone in his voice.

Hanne swallowed and raised her chin, seemingly frightened, but determined to speak. "The only way we're going to be able to remove the symbiote is by using the harakash."

Selmak immediately asked for control and took a menacing step towards the Healer, who stood her ground. "But that would kill them."

"It would disrupt the neuro-electrical linkages between the host and symbiote. If we work it correctly, then the symbiote will die before the host, much like Jolinar did with Samantha Carter." Hanne said, sounding like she was rationalising it to herself.

"That was a fluke." Selmak snapped.

Hanne looked momentarily confused. "A fluke?"

"Tau'ri idiom. A chance. A one off. It will probably not happen if we attempt it deliberately." Selmak supplied with a miniscule sigh. "You have no guarantee that this will work."

"No," Hanne said, and swallowed convulsively. "In fact it will most likely kill them both." She took a deep gulping breath and Selmak suddenly realised she was fighting back tears.

Selmak sent:
{mild horror}

Jacob said, 'It's so close to home for her.'

Selmak said, 'Should we reassign her? She's a danger like this.'

Jacob said, 'She'd claw my eyes out. Besides, I'd say Olayinka is quite a stabalising influence for her.'

"They're both going to die anyway." Hanne said, blinking rapidly. "Please, I have to at least try and save Helen."

Selmak was silent for a long moment, exchanging thoughts, feelings, and impressions in a wordless communication with her host, faster than any language could relate.

Selmak nodded sharply. "Do it."

Hanne swallowed and inclined her head, turning to leave, and causing her robe to swirl about her.

"Because of what you're doing..." Selmak said, then paused when Hanne halted her walk to the door. "She will recall the memories of the Goa'uld that dies within her."

"Yes," Hanne choked out, refusing to turn around. "Just like Samantha. And just like me."

Selmak sighed inaudibly and relinquished to Jacob as Hanne strode out of her room. He turned to Yosef and glanced down at her. Her eyes were closed - she was still sleeping the sedative off - and her breathing was even.

Jacob groaned softly. "You don't know how much I wish you were here. So you could deal with this instead of me."

'Amen, my friend.' Selmak said.

**

The Tok'ra had several harakash in their position, although their status as assassins weapons and torture devices precluded most Tok'ra being willing to use them. Also, they required getting close to a target and were thus ineffective. They were more likely to wield a hand device, as it was much more powerful and efficient.

But they did have them.

Hanne traced the three stones-

Hanne sent:
{blue... red... yellow... pretty}

-with a finger, and ran her nails over the carefully crafted metal. More so than other Goa'uld weapons, there was an element of artistry in the device that she couldn't escape, no matter how much-

//... warm, worried voices telling me that everything will be alright. That the pain is necessary, but it will all be over soon. That this creature will soon be gone from me.

I can feel it inside me, screaming using my mouth and my throat, and my lungs. It is actually shifting against my brainstem, and that's almost more painful than anything else it's inflicted upon me.

The kindly face of a woman who is obviously dying, her face gaunt, but known to the creature as a shol'va... worse... Tok'ra..., looks down on me and raises her hand, in which she holds a device with three stones. Red... yellow... blue...//

-she would have liked to.

Hanne almost dropped the harakash, and pressed her eyes closed, willing the memories to go back into her subconscious, the only place they had any business being. As if it wasn't bad enough she had her own memories, she also had-

//... the Tok'ra actually believe they will kill me, and I, for once, believe they may actually accomplish their task. I was foolish to allow them to capture me. Although in honesty, I blame the shipyard mech two planet back, who did such a poor repair job on my craft that I was forced to use the Chaapa'ai and was caught.

Although this host wasn't much help. Pretty, yes. To a degree. If I'd known how weak boned, how susceptible to damage she was, I would never have chosen her as a host. Too bad my sarcophagus was damaged along with my ship.

Wonderful. They have a harakash. This is going to hurt.

Let them have this weak-bodied host. I no longer care for it...//

-the memories of Turrij to keep her company.

Daralis placed a gentle hand on Hanne's arm, wary of causing the fragile woman damage. "Hanne?"

Hanne blinked back tears as Olayinka shut down mental pathways that led to those memories, effectively giving her amnesia of that day-long ordeal.

Daralis looked at Hanne, then slowly held out her hand, smiling sadly in sympathy. "Do you want me to do it?"

Hanne blinked, drawing herself out of her reverie. "No," she said quietly. "I'll do it."

But Daralis noticed that Hanne's eyes flared as Olayinka took over, and could just imagine the Healer retreating to the furthest, quietest part of her own mind as the air around them filled with screams.

**

The room was very cold, that much was apparent, and had a faint sickly, disinfected smell that was constantly present. It also didn't help matters that he was wearing something that seemed to be flimsy in the extreme.

All these thoughts came to Martouf a few seconds after he had revived. His first thought, as soon as his consciousness had stirred sufficiently, before all these other secondary concerns was:

'Lantesh?'

To which only mental and physical silence was the result.

Martouf was tempted to remain unmoving on the medical bed. It didn't require much effort on his part, and, besides whish, the surface on which he lay was infinitely more comfortable that the usual slabs of crystal-granite hardened slurry, covered by thin padding, that passed for beds among the Tok'ra. Not by much, but it was definitely an improvement.

His nerves were tingling with a familiar sensation as the sedative the Tau'ri O'Neill had injected him with (a most painful experience, in Martouf's opinion) and his awareness and memory of events returned.

The image of Samantha's ghostly pale face facing him briefly swam before his eyes before he dismissed the memory from his mind. He slowly raised his hands and examined them carefully, looking under the nails and at the nail beds, checking them again and again.

No blood.

"An improvement on last time." Martouf said out loud to himself, more to give himself something to listen to than any real need to say it. It was so quiet...

In some ways it was much worse than last time. Lantesh was gone, and he was completely isolated in this cold, grey, Tau'ri room, whilst wearing a backless paper gown.

Martouf pushed the sheet away from his body, and slipped off the bed, gratified that he at least had his strength back. For some reason, all of the time before he remembered waking up in a sarcophagus without Lantesh, everything was blurred, hardly impinging on his consciousness. He hadn't experienced such memory loss since...

Since his last attack.

And if Lantesh was no longer around to stop the progression of the disease that lived in Martouf's body, the disease he had stopped upon blending with his host... then Martouf was dead anyway.

The door to leave the room was obvious and easy to locate. Unfortunately, it was also locked.

He pulled at the door in futility for several moments, trying to make sure that there really was no way to open it. After nearly twenty seconds, he made a noise of frustration and slammed the heel of his palm into the door's surface, making it rattle alarmingly.

"Hello?!" he yelled, assuming that the Tau'ri would have some sort of monitoring device in the room. "Where's Lantesh? I need Lantesh!!"

No response. Not even a small hint of one.

Martouf consigned himself to being along in the room and sat back on the bed, lacing his fingers together. It didn't take long for the little noises to annoy him beyond belief. The drip of some sort of liquid, the slight rattling of the ventilation system, the beep of the odd monitoring equipment.

He found himself growing wistful for the slight chiming sound of the crystals of the Tok'ra, that seemed to reverberate with sound. Rosha had liked that, in that a respect she wasn't alone among the Tok'ra, but Lantesh had always found that quality endearing.

'Lantesh...'

It was too quiet. Too lonely.

Was this how Samantha had felt? When Jolinar died? Martouf felt like part of his soul had simply been cut away and removed, making him incomplete.

Martouf jumped off the bed again as the sound of the door opening reached him through his reverie.

Someone dressed in a full-body orange suit (definitely female - it was easy to tell from the way it clung to her upper body) entered, the lock cycling shut too quickly for Martouf to take advantage of the exit, pushing a trolley with various pieces of nightmarish looking equipment on it. One wheeled seemed to be perpetually squeaking. She didn't acknowledge him much, just pushing the trolley to a stop by the bed Martouf had just vacated.

"Ah, feeling better?" Her voice contained a lightness of spirit that Martouf felt was wholely inappropriate. "Good. Nice to know the virus had no lasting side effects."

Martouf blinked. "Virus? What virus?"

The woman tilted her head at him. "The virus Ate infected you with? That you've been fighting for the last... well... quite a few days."

Martouf shook his head, bringing his mind back on track. "I have to get out of here! Where's Lantash? I have to-"

"Martouf," The woman's voice brooked no argument. "Sit. Down."

Martouf sat down. It was in reflex response to the authority in her voice more than anything else.

"Now," The woman said. "Are we calm?"

Martouf glared at her. "No WE are not. WE are in fact very annoyed."

"Good." Martouf rolled his eyes in irritation at her cheerful tone.

She held out a pile of green cloth, which he regarded with the suspicion he would a recently defused bomb that no one is sure is really defused.

"What is that?" he asked, staring at it.

"Clothing." she said, tossing it to the bed next to him. "Cleaned, deconned and sterilised to a fair thee well. Major Carter suggested you might appreciate it more than the paper gown."

Martouf picked up the clothing and fingered it, then looked at the woman. She gave him an amused expresion.

"You ain't got nothing I haven't seen before, honey." she said, but nevertheless turned her back and started messing with the equipment tray she had brought in.

Grateful that she was at least making a show of keeping his privacy, he started rummaging through the pile and pulling on the various items. "Who are you?" he asked after a moment. The woman almost turned around in reflex at his voice, but caught herself and continued doing whatever it was she was doing. "I would have thought Janet Frasier would be doing this."

"She would be." She said. "Except she's recovering from concussion. I'm Doctor Kate Henderson, the deputy CMO."

"CMO?"

"Chief Medical Officer. Her second, basically." Henderson frowned. "Can I turn around now?"

Martouf finished pulling on the black t-shirt. They had given him a set of Tau'ri military clothing, green trousers, black t-shirt, and a green shirt to be worn over that. "Yes." he said.

Henderson turned, holding a needle that glistened wickedly in the light. "Good. Leave the over shirt off for the moment, I need a blood sample."

Martouf eyed the needle in her hands. "Primitive." he said, a slightly arrogant edge in his voice.

Henderson narrowed her eyes. "You know, I can /really/ make this hurt."

Martouf muttered something that Henderson didn't catch, and held out his arm as she told him to. While she tied the tourniquet around his arm, she asked,

"You seem a little... how shall I put it? Snarky?" she said, tightening the tourniquet and reaching for the hypodermind.

"Is that an actual word?" Martouf asked.

Henderson sighed. "Annoyed, irritated, bitchy, nasty, cranky... I can get you a thesaurus if you like."

"No, ankh'shal, I'm not 'snarky', that's just my personality." Martouf paused a moment, then seemed to reconsider his words. "I have lost the companion I have had for most of a century, have been placed inside a device I despise, and have been recently tortured and killed. That doesn't lend itself towards happiness."

Henderson frowned as she located the vein and placed the needle appropriately. "What does 'ankh'shal' mean?"

Martouf blinked, he obviously hadn't realised that he'd used the term. "It means 'Second to the Healer'. The equivalent of your position in my language."

"You can't just call me Doctor?" Henderson asked, puzzled.

Martouf was silent for a long moment. "Because I don't know the term."

Henderson stared at him, then seemed to remember that she was meant to be drawing blood, and removed the hypodermic. "So you've lost some of your language skills? You can't remember some terms?"

"I must have," Martouf looked disturbed.

"Hold that over it." Henderson instructed, pressing a small pad over the insertion point, waiting for him to do so before picking up the tube of blood.

"I gained my knowledge of the Tau'ri language from Lantesh, who learnt it through the laan'kos, and over time, I learnt it by hearing your people and Jacob speak, however, the more specialised terms that have only vague equivalents in my language... Lantesh usually has... usually had to prompt me not to use them. Without him, I do not have that knowledge."

Henderson had a look of intense curiosity on her face. "So while the host shares in the knowledge of the symbiote, if the symbiote leaves, the host doesn't retain that knowledge. They don't keep it unless the symbiote dies, like with Major Carter..."

"And Jolinar." Martouf looked at the vial of blood Henderson held loosely in her hands. "I have no memory of Jolinar before I was Blended with Lantesh. But they were mated for thirty years before I became a host."

"Martouf, as long as your system turns out to be clear of the virus, and your physical shows you're in health, then there's no reason you won't be able to re-blend with Lantesh..." Henderson broke off and her eyes slid upwards to the observation gallery, before quickly flicking back again. Glancing back briefly over his shoulder, Martouf caught sight of Sam, who had obviously only just entered. He averted his gaze and looked down at his arm, then at Henderson.

"You can not tell me that you really need all that blood." Martouf said, frowning at the tube that was roughly ten centimetres long and as thick as his thumb.

"Yes, I can." Henderson said, as she pulled a pen out of her top pocket and wrote something on the label. "Haemoglobin count, white blood cell count, thyroid function, cholesterol levels, screening for about half a dozen bacteria and viruses, including the one that almost killed you." She looked up. "Want me to go on?"

"Please don't." said Martouf, lifting up the pad to peer at his arm. "Bleeding's stopped."

Henderson nodded. "I'll take this to Karen Roth and the viro staff, and we'll have your results by tomorrow morning. If your levels of the virus are low enough, you'll be released from quarantine."

"Quarantine?" Obviously they'd hit another language block.

Henderson sighed. "Seclusion. Isolation... yadda." she said, "I'll be back later." She picked up the vials, depositing them into a transparent bag and headed for the door.

"Ankh'shal, when can I talk to someone about Lantash? How is he? What's-"

Henderson turned a little to look at him and sighed. "Recovered from most of his injuries." She hesitated, and her next words came out in a rush. "And someone tried to kill him. Talk to you later." She practically ran from the room, slamming the door behind her to avoid speaking anymore.

Martouf glanced at the observation gallery but it was, as it had been before, completely empty. Twenty minutes later a dark-skinned woman, about equal to him in height and wearing a full-body orange suit like all the others, entered and gave him a smile.

"Hello, Martouf. I'm Mary Reagan, the base's counsellor. I was wondering if we might have a little chat..."

**

The Goa'uld, whose name was Runako, had managed to avoid getting close to Major Carter though some minor miracle. And it didn't want to get especially close to Martouf until it knew for certain that there was no naqada in his system. It wasn't very likely, considering the Tok'ra worm had been removed before it had died, but Runako had not survived countless inflitration missions by getting careless because of what was "likely" to happen.

The Tau'ri were all oblivious to Runako's presence, and that was something that Runako had no problem with. All it needed to wait for was the right opportunity, when the search had died down a little and people were starting to get careless, then it would go on a little jaunt. It would be unfortunate to abandon the host that was so enjoyable to subjugate, but getting through the Chaapa'ai and reporting back to its superiors. Unfortunately, it had lost the memories of the other host (which, in Runako's opinion, the Tok'ra Council would have LOVED to get their grubby little hands on), but it was no great loss, just an irritation.

Of course, it still had to kill that irritating Tok'ra thing. It did know far too much.

Deep inside the shell of the host's mind, Runako could make out quiet mental weeping, and an annoyingly strong sense of misery and agony. It was distracting. And distraction could result in death. But there was something deeply satisfying about hearing the pitiful thing cry out like that. Like an animal in a cage.

Still...

Runako told it's host, 'Oh shut up.'

**

"After Kate... Doctor Henderson, alerted me to some problems, I interviewed Martouf with Doctor Frasier's permission," Mary Reagan sat in General Hammond's office, along with Janet Frasier, giving her report to Hammond. As Doctor McKenzie hadn't been on the base when it was locked down, Reagan was the only qualified psychiatrist in the mountain. Thus, it had fallen to her to speak to Martouf.

"What did you find?" he asked.

Reagan sighed and glanced at the notes in her lap, even though she had already memorised them. "He seems to have extensive loss of some of what we would consider basic knowledge. Information about the Tok'ra, and the Goa'uld, even what he thought of as his own past. It was the symbiote's past though. It seems a lot of the information he possessed came from Lantesh. It's also my opinion that he is suffering adverse psychological reactions to Lantesh's removal." Reagan said. She sighed. "Not to mention the fact that I believe there is some deep trauma in his past concerning the use of sarcophagii. Without his symbiote to support him through whatever may have been unburied, he's also suffering the effects of that." Reagan flicked her fingers vaguely. "He's not unstable yet, but he's definitely... not as well, mentally, as he could be. It's extended to physical acts of violence."

Hammond raised an eyebrow, and Reagan felt compelled to explain, biting her lip for a moment before telling.

"Shortly after I departed, he tried to... forcibly take the door off its hinges. Nurse McVay had to threaten sedation if he didn't co-operate. That's not normal observed behaviour from him."

"We don't have a basis for observed behaviour." Janet pointed out. "We've had very little time to know him."

Reagan offered a tight smile. "Samantha Carter has such an observation of the patient and she believes he is acting in a manner contrary to his normal personality."

"You told her?" Hammond asked, staring at the Counsellor hard.

Reagan blinked. "I received no instructions not to."

Hammond nodded. "Of course you didn't. Go on, Doctor."

"He also has no memory of the virus. The time since his incarceration with the Goa'uld is simply a blur to him."

Hammond shook his head, dropping his pen on his desk and fighting the urge to rub his forehead. How was he going to explain this to the Tok'ra?

If the Tok'ra were ever going to put in an appearance. The representative from the council that Jacob had promised never turned up. Hammond was starting to think they'd forgotten about them. Heads would roll when they did send an envoy. If Hammond had to contact them first it would not be the high point of his day.

"I'm not hearing anything good here, Doctor."

Reagan bit her lip. "I know that, General sir, but it's the only information I have for you."

"Do either of you have any suggestions?" Hammond asked the pair.

They both looked at their hands and then back up at him in an identical gesture that was slightly unnerving to watch.

"General, you should try understand," Reagan said, pausing a moment to gather her thoughts and phrase them properly. "Martouf has had another being sharing his every thought, every feeling, every waking and sleeping moment for the last seventy odd years. Now that we've removed Lantesh, he's suddenly having to cope with everything that happens to him without that other presence. The only equivalent I can think of in Human terms would be that he's lost a sense, or perhaps a limb."

"So what do you suggest?" Hammond repeated, wondering if Doctor's had selective hearing that allowed them to ignore requests for information.

Reagan glanced at Frasier then back at Hammond. "Sir, if Doctor McKenzie were here, doubtless he would prescribe some of his godawful anti-psychotics, but..." Reagan shrugged. "Firstly, I don't have the authority, secondly, I don't think it's warranted. What Martouf needs," she placed the emphasis on the word 'need'. "Is to be reblended with Lantesh, before he suffers psychological damage."

"No." Janet said firmly.

"Doctor, I have examined the test results, and I believe the risk is minimal."

"And when you have your MD and have spent the last several years as CMO as this base I will take your evaluation." Frasier said evenly. "But I do not believe that the virus is sufficiently eradicated from his system yet."

Reagan's eyes narrowed, and Hammond sat back in his chair, recognising signs that both of them were preparing for a verbal battle. Not good.

"For your information, Doctor Frasier, I DO have an MD and am qualified to offer this opinion. Levels of the virus in his system are negligable. They would not pose a threat to the symbiote."

"Nor are you a virologist." Frasier said pointedly, and Reagan had to concede defeat on that point. "I recommend against reblending at this time."

Hammond stepped into the conversation in the awkward silence that followed. "Doctor Reagan, do you believe that Martouf will become violent to the members of the SGC?"

Reagan gritted her teeth. "No, sir. Not yet."

Hammond looked to Frasier. "Does he pose a health risk?"

"Sir," Frasier started. "I believe that-" She stopped at Hammond's glare. "No, sir." she said meekly.

"Then release him from isolation and get him and SG1 to report to the briefing room in one hour for debriefing."

"Yes, sir." The two doctors chorussed, glaring at each other.

**

Jack O'Neill was pouring himself a large cup of coffee when Martouf entered, accompanied by an SF, who had obviously been ordered to escort him. The whole of SG1, with Doctor Henderson, had arrived a few minutes earlier. Martouf gave the SF a nasty glare before looking for a free seat.

He took the only seat remembering, next to Doctor Henderson, and away from the rest of SG1. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet a few degrees as he did so. The expression on Kate Henderson's face clearly said 'I'm not involved, anything that happens doesn't involve me...'.

They could see Hammond on the phone to someone in his office, and the silence in the briefing room was oppressive. No one seemed to want to breath for fear of causing a disturbance of sound.

Henderson pushed a spare cup of coffee in Martouf's direction, as he was carefully avoiding looking at the others. Martouf frowned in puzzlement and took a careful sip. He grimaced at the taste, then shrugged and took another sip of the coffee.

Sam smiled slightly at the action, but kept her head bowed so that no one could see her. The door to Hammond's office swung open and the General entered the briefing room with a brief apology for the delay as he dropped into his chair.

"Let's get this underway." Hammond said. "By now, you should all have been filled in on the problem with Larrell."

Martouf blinked and looked up from his coffee. "What problem?" he asked.

Hammond glared at Henderson, who coloured.

"It never came up." she said defensively.

"Larrell's a Gould." Jack supplied. "She attacked Doctor Frasier, tried to kill Lantesh and... escaped."

"She tried to kill Lantesh?" Martouf said, slamming the mug down on the table, causing some of it to spill over the side. He didn't seem to notice the scalding liquid touching his skin.

"Doctor Frasier interrupted her before she could do anything." Hammond said.

"It was a mistake to remove Lantesh, not only that it leaves him vulnerable to attack. I must be reblended with him as soon as possible." Martouf said, staring at Hammond, as if appealing to him.

"But Doctor Frasier says that the virus still in your system could kill Lantesh." Henderson piped up. "I haven't seen the test results, but I'm inclined to believe her."

Martouf gave a tight, mirthless smile. "If I am not reblended, I will die anyway."

Several people straightened, and Sam looked nauseous.

"What are you talking about?" demanded Hammond, probably thinking of the consequences of having a Tok'ra die while under their care.

Martouf seemed to debate about telling them for a moment. "I have an inborn condition. Not one the sarcophagus can cure."

"Ah..." Daniel said, understanding the enormity of the problem.

"It causes the... the..." Martouf glances at Daniel. "Tanel?"

Daniel translated, "Nerves."

"The... nerves... in my brain to misfire. It causes behavioural and memory alterations. Lantesh was in fact a constant regulator of my nervous system."

"That was on your scans while you had the virus." Doctor Henderson said, rummaging in a file that seemed to be Martouf's medical notes. She produced one with a flourish and point to something that meant nothing to anyone except her and Doctor Warner. "Neurons were misfiring. We assumed it was an effect of the virus."

Martouf shook his head slowly. "No, I'm afraid not. More likely, it was disrupting Lantesh's control over my nervous system, allowing my condition to take over."

"So, the virus disrupts the control mechanism of symbiote over host..." Henderson murmured, making a notation on a pad of paper. Everyone ignored her.

"You're not affected now." Hammond pointed out.

Martouf smiled thinly. "It comes and goes. Years can pass between episodes. Or hours. Towards the end, shortly before I was blended with Lantesh, I barely knew who I was."

Everyone was silent for a moment.

"That doesn't address what we're going to do about the Gould we've got loose on the base?" Jack prompted, consciously changing the subject.

Hammond nodded. "Indeed. Major?" He said, looking at Sam.

"Daniel, have you ever seen one of these?" Sam held up her hand and Daniel automatically glanced at it, before reflexively looking away. In her hand, Sam held a harakash, as if ready to use it.

"You've seen it before then?" Sam said, judging from Daniel's reaction, he had, even if he wasn't aware of it.

"I..." Daniel frowned. "I think I should... but I don't remember."

Sam sighed and dropped her hand. "I think it's pretty safe to say that Larrell used a harakash to make Daniel her alibi."

"But that thing is used to kill." Hammond said, looking at the deceptively artistic creation.

"It can also be used to confuse the minds of victims. To blank their minds for a short period of time." Martouf supplied, nodding to the object. "Long enough for Larrell to commit a murder and return to Doctor Jackson before he was aware she was gone."

Daniel looked sick. Sam couldn't blame him. Larrell had made him an alibi for her, messing with his brain, using Goa'uld technology.

"It was found in the lab where Larrell..." Jack paused. "Or the Gould, attacked Doc Frasier. Must have been knocked away. Who'd have though the Doc could put up such a fight."

"It is fortunate for her that she did." Teal'c pointed out.

"You weren't going to tell me before you waved that thing at me?" groused Daniel quietly, who had obviously been quiet startled by seeing the device.

Sam smiled apologetically. "Sorry," she said.

Daniel just shook his head.

"We know she's somewhere in the base." Hammond said, looking at each person at the table in turn. "The mountain was locked down before she attacked Doctor Frasier, so she can't have gotten out. We've been conducting a level by level search, but it's taking time to go through all the possible hiding places."

"Possible hiding places?" echoed Martouf, sounded slightly disgusted that they would have such places.

"Supply closets, access crawl spaces, ventilation, that sort of thing." Sam told him, then returned her attention to General Hammond, who looked like he was waiting to continue.

"SG1 will join the search. Teal'c, you'll join Major Castleman. Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson, you'll go to level 27 to join the Marine's there. Major Carter, Martouf," Hammond nodded to the final pair. "You'll take twenty two. It's already been swept, but we need to make sure that she hasn't doubled back on herself."

"Yes, sir." murmured Sam, wondering if Hammond had picked up on the tension and was assigning them to such a quiet location for a reason.

"I'll go back and do medical stuff." Henderson volunteered, smiling brightly at the others. They ignored her.

Hammond nodded. "Dismissed."

SG1 started to stand at Hammond's words, Henderson as well, gathering up her notes and files. Martouf remained sitting.

"What about Lantesh?" Martouf said. Only Henderson was close enough to see that he was gripping the table so hard that his knuckles had turned white. "I have to be Blended with him."

Hammond looked sincerly sorry. "I'm afraid I can't allow that while you still have the virus in your system. When you're clear of it, I will allow it, but until then, I'm sorry."

Martouf pushed away from the table in disgust and stormed out of the room. Sam and Hammond exchanged glances, and then the Major got up from her chair and headed out after him.

**

Level twenty two was very quiet. Every so often, Martouf and Sam came across guards that had been posted at the access points, but other than that, there was no one. Twenty two was the level on which most of the physics labs were based, and as all the scientific personnel were "non-essential", they had been confined to quarters and the labs abandoned.

For the most part they went around in silence, hardly looking at each other, until Martouf accidentally knocked over a stack of equipment, creating a loud clatter, and began to swear fluently in a language Sam didn't recognise.

"Are you alright?" she asked, honestly concerned.

"Fine." snapped Martouf and headed for the door of the lab, carrying on with their progress down the corridor, checking each room that they came to. There was a long stretch that was just corridor ahead of them, and Martouf headed down it a few steps ahead of Sam.

"Will you knock it off?" Sam demanded. "We are meant to be working as a pair here. You know, a team."

"I used to do that." Martouf said. "But now I'm all alone, what's the point?"

Sam narrowed her eyes. "Don't be an idiot." she said. "The majority of people around here aren't blended. They get along just fine." There was a slight edge in her voice, daring him to contradict her.

Martouf stopped in the middle of the corridor and turned to face her, bringing her up short, unprepared as she was for his sudden halt.

"They," Martouf said. "Haven't lived with another soul for the last seventy years."

"No." Sam said. "But you could at least try and be something approaching civil."

"Why?" asked Martouf, bitterly. "You're the ones that took Lantesh away from me. Put me in a sarcophagus. Don't expect gratitude."

Sam shook her head, fighting the rueful half smile. "I don't believe this." She raised her chin slightly. "Jolinar always thought you were argumentative." she said, trying a different tact.

"Jolinar thought Lantesh was argumentative." Martouf corrected acerbically. Then he paused, looking at her speculatively. Then he gave her a twisted smile. "Didn't it ever occur to you that it was the symbiotes who cared for one another? Not the hosts?"

Sam blinked and drew back slightly. "Now you're just being hurtful."

Martouf tilted his head. "Believe it, Samantha. Jolinar and Lantesh were mated. Rosha... you, and I, we're just along for the ride, if I remember the Tau'ri phrase correctly." He seemed to get momentarily distracted by that. "Such interesting phrases..." He shook his head. "We're both subject to the feelings of the creatures that inhabited us. Nothing more."

Sam shook her head, hair bouncing slightly with the force of her movement. "I don't believe that, and neither do you."

"How do you know?" he returned, looking her straight in the eye, his face barely inches from hers, and his voice was low and dangerous.

"Because." Sam said simply. She took a deep breath. "You're just feeling the effects of being separated from Lantesh. Or maybe, your condition-"

"Oh, so you'll be using that excuse every time I speak from now on, will you, hmm?" Martouf said, drawing away from her slightly, and taking half a step back. His hands were behind his back, as if he were holding them there. "You can't use that excuse for what happened before. With Casilda."

"Why are you fixating on that?" demanded Sam, throwing her arms open. "Why can't you let this go? Casilda's death was not your fault!"

"Because I killed her!" Martouf snapped, "I stabbed her in the chest and caused her to bleed to death, the blood flowing so freely that her symbiote couldn't help her. I killed her. My symbiote's mate's host. And the worst part was... I didn't feel anything... I just wanted..."

"You wanted to get to the sarcophagus." Sam whispered.

"Yes."

Sam said, "But that was temporary. You-"

"I can't forget what I did to Casilda!!" he almost cried in anguish. "How can you?" His voice had dropped to a near whisper.

"Do you think I couldn't remember that?" Sam said, in an equally low tone. She put a hand against her rib cage, feeling what must have been phantom pain. Either her overactive imagination, or Jolinar's memories, was feeling warm blood slipping through her fingers. She certainly wasn't injured herself. She knew that this was what Casilda, and, by the Blending, Jolinar, had felt once before. "Do you think I couldn't remember what you did to her? But Jolinar never blamed you!" Her voice strengthened on those last words, but Martouf was obviously unconvinced.

"I killed her." Martouf gritted out. "If Rosha hadn't been around-"

"But Rosha was around." Sam said, anxious to inject a note of reason into the conversation. "She was around, and Jolinar lived."

"And Casilda died."

"You can't be held responsible for that." Sam started, but was cut off when Martouf, suddenly, and without warning, gripped her by the throat and pushed her against the wall. Not hard enough to cut off her breath entirely, but enough to make her struggle somewhat.

"Can I be held responsible for this?" He asked her slowly. "Lantash isn't here. You're talking to the person who killed Casilda's last host and three other Tok'ra because he simply had to get back to the sarcophagus. Something you put me in."

Sam saw the futility of argument with that point. "I never realised what a moderating influence Lantesh was on you." she spat. "I always thought it was the other way around."

He dropped her, looking faintly horrified with himself, pulling his hands towards his chest. "I'm... I'm sorry..." he started to say as Sam heaved for breath. "I don't know why I-"

"You're unsettled," Sam said, half trying to rationalise it to herself as she rubbed her throat. "And you told us how you have a neurological disorder that affects behaviour."

Martouf looked shaken, but he managed to nod slowly, clutching his hands together.

"Lantesh sometimes despairs of me." Martouf said quietly, staying well out of arms reach of Sam. "He said he wondered if I wouldn't be less infuriating if he just let the the nerves misfire."

Sam didn't know what to say to that, and so just smiled slightly, knowing that it was exactly what Lantesh /would/ say. There was a long silence between them.

"Samantha..." Martouf's voice was quiet. "Was it..." he trailed off, as if unwilling or unable to finish the question.

Sam straightened slightly. "Was it, what?"

Martouf seemed to gather his courage. "When Jolinar died... and left you..." Sam tensed, and forced herself to relax, knowing that her suddenly going defensive wouldn't help the situation. "Was it this... empty? This painful?"

Sam swallowed, and tried to think of how to answer that. "Jolinar wasn't my companion, Martouf. She was my captor." Martouf looked crestfallen at her words and nodded slowly.

"Yes," she suddenly said, as he started to turn away, to continue their assigned patrol. He stopped and looked back at her, a desperate need to know crossing his face. "It was painful. But it's not empty." Sam pressed a hand against her chest. "Ever since she died, I've had her memories. Her thoughts, her feelings. For me... it's like she never left."

Martouf paused. "Then I envy you."

"Don't." Sam said firmly. "Just..." she hesitated. "Just don't..." She pushed herself away from the wall and stepped past him.

She had a distinct feeling that Martouf was about to carry on and push the issue further, but her radio crackled into life before more words could pass between them.

"Carter, location." It was Jack's voice, and even over the distortion of the radio, he sounded tense. And was it Sam's imagination, or could she hear crying in the background?

Sam stopped and turned back to face Martouf as she spoke into her radio, not meeting his eyes. His face had taken on a rather impassive expression. Sam didn't blame him.

"Level twenty two, section three." she reported tersely, and waited for the response.

"Major, You need to get to level twenty seven, corridor A2, access tunnel three."

"Yes, sir." Sam paused. "Have you found something, sir?"

**

"Yeah." Jack glanced at the figure huddled in a foetal position. "You could say that. It's Larrell. She's not in a great state."

"On our way, sir."

Larrell was curled up in the corner of the small chamber, her hands wrapped around her knees, hugging them to her chest and rocking back and forth like a small child. Her face was stained with tears, and most of her top and sleeves were likewise sodden with tears. She was whispering some sort of mantra that no one could quiet make out to herself.

"Larrell?" Daniel said quietly, approaching her and hoping that if she made a sudden move, the SF's wouldn't shoot him in an attempt to take her down. Besides, she didn't look like she was in any condition to do much other than what she was doing, namely, crying.

"Daniel...?" The word was barely audible, and when Larrell brought her head up from resting on her arms, they were red and swollen. "Oh I'm sorry," She shook her head, fresh tears falling. "I'm so sorry..."

"Larrell," Daniel kept his voice low and calm. "What happened to you?"

Larrell blinked, and her voice trembled as she spoke. "She took my body. She took my body..." She kept repeating the phrase, rocking back and forth again.

"Who took your body, Larrell?" Daniel asked. 'As if I didn't know...'

"She did." Larrell wasn't focussed on him, simply responding to his voice automatically. "She killed Aela. Oh, my poor Aela. Screaming... screaming..."

Jack turned sharply as the sound of running footsteps came from down the corridor. The SF's made sharp gestures for Sam and Martouf to be quiet and allowed them to approach and enter the room.

"Sir?" Sam said, sounding a little out of breath. She kept rubbing her throat for some reason, but Jack ignored that and nodded to Larrell.

"We need you to check her. It looks like the host..."

"But you need to be sure." Sam said, in a similarly hushed tone.

"Exactly." Jack nodded.

Sam took a deep breath and turned to Larrell. Daniel stood back at Jack's gesture to allow Sam to advance on the distraught woman.

"Larrell..." Sam said quietly, crouching down next to her. "I'm going to check you. Is that alright?"

"Screaming..." whispered Larrell, eyes unfocussed.

Sam took that as a "yes", and gently reached out to lay her hand on Larrell's head, concentrating hard. After a moment, Larrell became utterly still, and stared at Sam, as if there was some sort of rapport between them. Then the moment was broken and Sam sat back on her heels.

Sam shook her head. "There's... a faint trace. Like an echo-"

"Aela." whispered Larrell, still rocking back and forth.

"Likely..." Sam admitted. "But the Goa'uld?" She shook her head in a decisive negative. "It's gone. She's Larrell, the host. And she's all alone."

Daniel glanced over at Martouf, and could almost feel the sympathy from the (now former, he supposed) Tok'ra. Martouf didn't notice the Doctor looking at him.

Jack nodded. "Right." he turned to one of the SF's behind him. "Get a medical team down here. Get her to the infirmary."

"Yes, sir."

As Sam pulled herself to her feet, Jack stepped a little closer to her so he could speak to her in a low voice, so that only Daniel and Martouf, who were standing close by, could hear. "So, if it's not in her... where is it?"

"I think she knows," Daniel said, nodding to the huddled figure in the corner. Her eyes were dull and unfocused and she was again whispering her mantra, in a language that probably only Daniel could understand.

"I wish you luck in extracting that information." Martouf said as he folded his arms and frowned, leaning against the wall to watching the sobbing, broken woman. "Because she's not in any condition to deliver it."

**

The Goa'uld was dead. That much was certain. They'd all felt its essential life force be snuffed out a few minutes earlier, leaving a panting, sobbing Helen in the wake of its passing. And Helen was dying.

They'd miscalculated. Horribly miscalculated. They'd left it a tad too long, and had caused irreparable damage to Helen's brain, causing blood vessels to burst and haemorrage. It was only a matter of time now. Most of the healers had left the chamber, to give her some peace.

Olayinka had withdrawn to give her host some privacy, leaving her alone as she stood, hovering, over Helen's bedside, a deep seated sense of guilt having taken hold.

"I'm sorry..." whispered Hanne.

Helen had regained consciousness shortly after the Goa'uld had died, but hadn't really said anything, just staring mutely at various. "I know." she said, as if immensely tired. "We're all sorry for something."

"No... I mean-" Hanne began, her voice trembling.

"I know." Helen repeated, her tremulous voice saying that Hanne should not push that further.

Hanne swallowed, hating to bring up the subject the council had told her to when Helen, poor Helen, was so close to passing beyond, but knowing she had to, said, "Helen, I need to ask you something."

"If it's about my music, take it. I won't need it where I'm going."

Hanne couldn't help but smile gently at that, as Helen had so obviously attempted to lighten the moment. "We have another spy." she said. "We just need to know..."

"Larrell," Helen said, swallowing. "We were on a mission together... they caught us both... killed Aela and Genra... replaced them..." Helen shuddered with remembered pain.

"I'll make sure the council knows." Hanne said softly.

Helen reached up with the little strength she possessed and took Hanne's hand. The Healer immediately raised her other hand to clasp the dying woman's tightly. "Don't blame yourself. It's not your fault this happened."

Hanne sniffed, tears spilling down her face. "I'm so sorry, Helen, I tried... I really did. I'm sorry I couldn't prevent it."

Helen squeezed Hanne's hand as best as she was able. "I know. It'll be alright. I promise."

"Shouldn't I be comforting you?" Hanne said, with a slight smile. Helen smiled back. "But you're right," Hanne continued. "It will be better. Later. But now... I'm sorry I couldn't help you. You don't deserve this."

"I'm just sorry... I... didn't get to pay them back... for this..." Helen's voice grew quieter as she spoke, until her head rolled to the side gently, and her hand in Hanne's became totally limp.

"Don't worry." Hanne whispered inaudibly as she reached over and closed Helen's eyes. "You will."

**

Hanne came out of the chamber and leaned against the wall, sagging down until she was crouching on the floor. There was silence, broken only by the rustle of cloth in the chamber as the other healers covered the body. Hanne looked up at Jacob, tears in her eyes.

"Helen is dead." she said numbly, before passing out.

**

The Council, currently numbering six, with one dead, one paralysed in her quarters, and one late, sat in their chamber with an almost tangible sense of tension in the air. Everything could be heard, from the shimmering noise the crystals always produced, thanks to the flow of air through the facility, causing them to resonate, to the gentle breathing of the Council members.

Chavi tried not to sigh, sometimes being a Sensitive had real problems. The icy anger Hanne was experiencing seemed to roll off her like a wave of cold air, and affected even those who were not sensitive to emotions. She had recovered rather quickly from her fainting fit and had brushed off all attempts at assistance. As Daralis had found no physical cause for the black out, she had put it down to severe emotional stress, informed Chavi, and allowed Hanne to attend the council meeting. Not that Hanne wouldn't have come anyway.

Breia and the others looked faintly bored, while Zeboary, who had finally accepted her seat on the Council, was flipping through a datapad. From where Chavi was sitting she could look over her mate's shoulder, and could see that she was revising the crystal composition and looking at the results it would produce, probably trying to create a stronger structure. It looked like she was planning to create tunnels that had a lot of supporting crystalline struts, and even... spikes on the walls?

Chavi blinked. Either Zeboary or Fenuz was in a sadistic mood. Or both.

One of the guards brushed past a crystal, and the rough cloth he wore cause the crystal to resonate a soft clear note in the air. Chavi closed her eyes and automatically pitched a note to it, and began quietly humming an old children's song from her homeworld. She was amused that after a moment, Mitena joined in, firmly singing the harmony line in their shared thoughts.

Zeboary glanced up, gave her a quick smile, and returned to her redesigning. Hanne looked annoyed, and Breia was indifferent. Chavi fought the urge to sigh. Trust her to be in a Council which was made up of tone deaf individuals. Except for Zeboary. If the Tunnel Senior couldn't hear notes and reproduce them, then she couldn't hear the particular resonances in the crystals that gave away their functioning. Chavi had tried over and over to introduce her to the aesthetic value of that sound, but Zeboary didn't seem to want to learn.

On Chavi's world, sound had been an intrisic part of their society. Chavi had learnt to use sound in her treatment of minds which were broken and damaged. Chavi had been lucky; she had been born with perfect pitch, and a distinct love of music. And she had been fortunate enough to be Blended with a symbiote who shared that love.

Chavi switched to a slightly more soothing melody, to try and calm the minds of the Council, to try and reduce the buzzing in her skull somewhat. 'We're eight again.' she told her symbiote mentally.

Mitena didn't stop contributing the harmony line as she responded, 'Indeed. Unfortunate. Who did you have in mind?'

Chavi smiled thinly and traced the edge of her table with a fingertip. 'Per'sus?' she suggested. 'I think he's grown enough.'

'Maybe.' Mitena responded absently.

The Councillors all straightened automatically (except for Zeboary, who looked like she couldn't care less about the proceedings and continued her designs) as Jacob entered the room, looking harried.

"There's no change in Yosef's condition." he reported tersely.

"There won't be for a few more hours." Hanne said quietly.

"Hanne..."

Hanne looked up at Jacob, daring him to make her angry. Chavi knew that Hanne was dangerous at that moment, but wouldn't realise it until much later.

"What?" she asked dully.

"What did you find out from Helen?" Jacob asked, looking intently at the Healer. Hanne was quiet for a few good moments.

"It's Larrell," Hanne said, as she sat with her chin on her fist. "She's the other Goa'uld."

Jacob paled and sat down heavily in one of the chairs. "We left her on the Tau'ri."

"Oh yes," Breia noted tightly. Chavi noted that for the first time that she had known the woman, Breia looked worried. "You did, didn't you."

"Why would you care..." Hanne muttered, clenching one hand into a fist so tightly that Chavi actually sat small droplets of blood forming where her nails bit into her palm.

Chavi swallowed and leaned back slightly.

Mitena sent:
{panic, apprehension}

Jacob gave Hanne a glare. "I beg your pardon?" he said icily.

Hanne looked up, realising that she had been heard. "You left Larrell with the Tau'ri, you let Helen be left with a Goa'uld."

Chavi bit her lip. 'She's really unstable.' she told her symbiote.

Mitena said, 'You think?!'

Jacob gave way to Selmak, whose eyes flared with anger. "We did what was in the best interests of the Tok'ra."

Hanne's temper seemed to snap, and her voice rose. "You ordered her to be left with that... that abomination inside her!!"

"Hanne! Kree!" barked Selmak.

"No, I will not!" declared Hanne, and jumped to her feet.

Chavi was more worried about Hanne doing herself damage than risk of her harming anyone else. While the memories were invoking emotions that Chavi automatically shied away from, such terror as was being produced would only cause the poor woman to lash out. Hanne, coming from a low-gravity world (which was why she was so tall) would undoubtedly break bones if she tried to do anything agressive. Chavi knew from experience that even a touch that was slightly too hard would induce horrific bruising under Hanne's skin.

It was Breia who managed to subdue the Healer Senior, surprising everyone. She leaned forward and clamped a hand on Hanne's shoulder in an iron grip and moved her mouth so it was close to the other woman's ear. For several moments, she murmured to Hanne words that no one else could here, and then Hanne visibly subsided, retaking her seat. Chavi felt the sudden easing of tension, and it also made her take a deep breath through reflex, as though she had been suffocating.

"Am I the only one," Zaid said in a remarkably calm and affable voice considering the swirl of emotions in the room, "Who remembers why Larrell was left on the Tau'ri in the first place?"

The others stared at him. Then comprehension dawned on everyone's faces, and Chavi felt the burn of not only her own embarrassment, but the other Councillors as well.

Mitena said, 'Martouf. I'd forgotten. Jolinar would be most angry with us for doing so.'

"Do we believe he would still be alive?" Breia asked, raising her eyebrow. "He was suffering from a virus of which we have no knowledge, and the people of the Tau'ri are primitive at the best of times."

"Breia..." Jacob said warningly.

"This is an old argument." Dalir said, taking over from her host and sounding snappish. "And is pointless going over again at this time. My host merely stated fact, Jacob, as is her nature. You would all do well to remember that." Dalir frowned and folded her hands in her lap, apparently having an internal disagreement. No one disturbed her.

"I must agree with Breia," Hanne said, ignoring the glance she got off Jacob, remarkably touchy over his home planet's technological status.

Chavi was from a world that was reasonably advanced, so she felt no sense of defensiveness over its technology, and even those Tok'ra Chavi knew to be from stone-age planets seemed to have no second thoughts about their planet's social progression or lack thereof. Perhaps it was because the Tau'ri was the topic of such discussion among the council. After all, how many emerging species had eliminated at least five of the Tok'ra's most ancient enemies in such a short time period?

Mitena asked, 'The Nechtii?'

Chavi sent:
{amusement}

Chavi said, 'The Nechtii are hardly an option, now are they?'

Hanne was speaking, having calmed down substantially. Chavi guessed that Olayinka had been altering her biochemistry to calm her down. It wouldn't have been the symbiote had to manipulate her host's cells to reduce her ire. "If Martouf is still alive, he will require medical care. As I will already be attending to deal with Larrell, removing her Goa'uld captor," Her tone indicated that that was what would happen. That she wasn't going to let another innocent being put up with an invasion. No one was particularly inclined to argue with her. "I wish to use this opportunity to study this virus."

Zeboary looked faintly horrified. "You want to study him? As he dies?"

Hanne gave the Tunnel Senior a firm glare, her mouth set into a flat line. "If I can do nothing for him, then there is no reason I should not use this opportunity to gain information on something that can one day be used against the Goa'uld."

"That would be tantamount to armed warfare." Selmak pointed out, frowning. "Biological warfare. You know as well as any others that the Tok'ra would not survive such a conflict."

Hanne took a deep breath. "There will come a day when it is the only way in which to resist the Goa'uld. If we are not prepared, then we will all die."

"I have heard these arguments before." Selmak said quietly, and everyone knew what the Councillor was referring to.

Hanne paled and fell silent, obviously not willing to risk suffering Selmak's wrath. "My apologies," she said, licking her lips. There was a pause, and her head bobbed. After a moment, all of Hanne's movements became more fluidic and graceful, and a faint, omnipresent smile appeared on her face. Olayinka was a much more calming presence than her host. "Hanne does not mean to offend," She said, attempting to smooth over proverbially ruffled feathers. "However, I ask that you remember that this weapon could also be used against us. If Ate was testing it on Tok'ra, other system lords could already possess it. It is in our own self interest to gain as much information." She glanced at Zeboary. "While trying to preserve Martouf's life."

"Obviously," Selmak said, "As Garshaw would be most unhappy if all of Lantesh's knowledge were to die with his host."

There was some amusement at that statement. It was no secret that Garshaw considered Martouf something of an apprentice, training him in the ways of the Tok'ra leaders for many decades now, to the extant that he was addressing her as 'Master', traditional on his world for "one who taught". The Councillors knew that she believed that with perhaps another fifty to a hundred years or so of experience that Lantesh (and Martouf, if he lived that long) could take a place on the Council. Although with the average lifespan of Councillors at that time, Lantesh might get his chance earlier than anyone thought.

"We must also consider Larrell." Zeboary said, putting down her datapad and seeming to pay some attention. "After all, she has been taken over by a Goa'uld. We think. We must be prepared to deal with the fact that she may have already attacked individuals within the Tau'ri SGC."

Zaid nodded sagely. "Anoki's purpose here was to create chaos. Admirably accomplished, all things considered and taken into account." he said, bobbing his head to Zeboary to show he did not hold her at fault. After a moment, Zeboary returned it.

Mitena said, 'Quite the diplomat.'

"We must consider the actions Larrell was ordered to take at the SGC."

"If her Goa'uld master knew she was going the SGC." pointed out Selmak. "She could have been instructed to remain hidden, while Anoki was the one who was caught."

"That is inconsistent with Goa'uld mentality." Chavi said with authority. "They have a great regard for their own personal safety. Self sacrifice is not ingrained in them."

"So, the Tau'ri may not know of the presence of a Goa'uld infiltrator." Zaid said, determined to remain on topic.

"We must inform them." Breia said, her voice firm. "We must retrieve the Goa'uld before it can do damage."

Mitena wondered, 'To what, Breia?'

Selmak paused. "I am inclined to agree."

"I must go." Breia said.

"Why?" asked Selmak. The other Councillors were just as interested.

Breia tilted her head. "Before the Goa'uld is removed, as I have no doubt that Hanne will insist on," she inclined her head in Hanne's direction. "I wish to interrogate it, to gain as much information as possible. It would prove invaluable."

"And we all know how good you are at interrogation." Zaid said, a note of humour in his voice.

Breia smiled tightly.

Mitena said, 'We have to go too!'

Chavi blinked, and almost responded out loud before she caught herself. 'What? Why?'

Mitena said, 'I am NOT missing this. Make up some excuse, but we have to go! It's an... instinct... trust me.'

Chavi rolled her eyes. 'How could I not, my sweet.'

"Larrell will be suffering from severe emotional and psychological disturbances." Chavi said, raising her chin and daring anyone to contradict her in her area of expertise. "There are no Healers on the Tau'ri to deal with this type of mental injury." She glanced at Jacob, raising an eyebrow in query.

Reluctantly, Jacob shook his head. "No," he said after a moment. "Sam certainly had to deal with the aftermath of Jolinar's death all by herself. It traumatised her by all accounts, and she was convinced it was the worst thing that had happened to her."

"And that was with the relatively benign presence of a Tok'ra symbiote." Breia said.

"I would hardly call what Jolinar did to Samantha Carter 'benign'." Zeboary said, shuddering slightly, probably imagining what such an experience would be like. "It made a mockery of everything we stand for."

Mitena said, 'Here is a thought. If we had known of Cordesh's treachery, would we have removed it from the host immediately, or would we have kept it unaware that we had uncovered its presence?'

'What was that term Jacob used?' Chavi asked herself. 'Ah yes, you're playing devil's advocate.'

Mitena sent:
{image: inclination of head}

Mitena said, 'Perhaps.'

Chavi said, 'Moot. Garshaw ordered Cordesh's death as soon as it was located in a new host.'

Mitena said, 'Not all Tok'ra agree with the Council. Not all the Council agree.'

Chavi thought of events from thousands of years earlier. 'And look where that got you.'

Mitena fell into a sullen silence, disliking being reminded of that time.

Breia was back, and was arguing the point again. "Let us be honest with one another," she sais, "Our symbiotes are physiologically identical to the Goa'uld. The same instincts. The same race memory, except for the last six thousand standard years, obviously. Instincts count for a great deal in any life form, including Humans. Can we honestly say that any Tok'ra, in a similar situation, would not do the same thing as Jolinar?"

Mitena couldn't resist taking control of her host to offer a rebuttal to that. "You place a great deal of emphasis on instinct. Humanity, and the Ek're'Tanr," (literally, Us from Home - the name for all symbiotes, Goa'uld or Tok'ra) "Have moved on in evolutionary terms. The Tok'ra's very exsistence is proof of that."

"Our existence," Breia said slowly, "Is due to Egeria. A single Goa'uld Queen whose sudden and ultimately rather fatal attack of conscience could have been due to a random genetic mutation." Breia tilted her head, apparently completely unaware of the stir she'd caused with her words (although Chavi wasn't as convinced she was totally innocent), and said, "Your host is an Evaluator of the mind. She knows how those minds operate. Does she know how much instinct dominates our actions?"

Chavi smiled slightly and took over. "Breia, one of the very reasons for this Council is to overcome instinct with intellect. It is ingrained in the instincts of our symbiotes that they must Dominate. Dominate your host. Dominate your fellows. Dominate all you can. The Council is here to prevent such dominance by a single individual over the Tok'ra."

"Instead," Breia said, "The Council dominates over the Tok'ra at large and they accept our will without question."

Chavi continued on smoothly as if Breia had never spoken. "Our intellect allows us to resist such urges, and you," she pointed a finger at the unrepentant councillor. "Are..." Chavi glanced to the side briefly, trying to recall the exact phrase. "Are stirring up a storm with your words. I would advise you to heed more caution in your choice of them."

"Is that a threat?" Breia said, startlingly mildly, causing Chavi to draw back slightly and an uneasy tension to fill the air.

"Breia, it seems whenever you speak we stray from the point of the matter at hand," Selmak said, having observed the discussion silently and deciding that it was time to dissipate the tension that was building rather quickly. After a moment, Jacob surfaced. "We were talking about the Tau'ri and who would go there."

Chavi nodded. "I will go to the Tau'ri." she said, as if that was the end of it.

"As will I." Hanne and Breia said, their voices mingling in a rather unpleasant manner. That sparked off Zaid and Zeboary, whose voices overlapped, and Breia started to offer a rebuttal-

"Fine!" Jacob snapped, quieting the group instantly, there was an edge in his voice that was pure Selmak. They seemed to be speaking as one mind. "Breia, Chavi, Hanne. You can all come to the Tau'ri. We dislike having to take so many councillors, however it seems that it is the only way to end this discussion." He looked at each of them in turn. "Now, any questions?"

"Any point?" asked Chavi, stroking the soft material that made up her outer robe. It was soft and fuzzy, and she loved the feel of it.

"None whatsoever." confirmed Jacob.

**

Mary Reagan had, in her time at the SGC, had to deal with some fairly dramatic cases of psychological damage. More often than not, she saw them briefly to confirm the CMO's diagnosis, and they got transferred to the care of Doctor McKenzie. Reagan didn't do much in the way of serious trauma cases.

So when she was confronted with a seriously disturbed Larrell, under sedation and blinking up at the ceiling as she lay on one of the beds in the infirmary, Reagan didn't exactly know what to do. Ex-hosts of Goa'uld weren't covered by her medical training.

She had been changed out of her Tok'ra outfit (which had caused the medical staff no end of trouble - in the end, they had simply cut it away) and into a medical gown. Somehow it made her seem smaller, more vulnerable. Her hair, fluffy and a tad wild when Reagan had seen it last, hung limply about her face.

"Three little flowers all in a row." murmured Larrell in a sing song voice. "Gone, gone, gone. No hope."

Reagan took a deep breath, and trying not to let her frustration show. Larrell was practically catatonic, and those rare periods of lucidity were filled with nonsense phrases like the one she had just uttered. Reagan had given up asking for explanations and just listened patiently.

"Pretty flowers?" she asked, noting the phrase down on her notepad.

"Little flowers."

Reagan blinked, glancing at Larrell in surprise. It was the first semi-reasonable response to a question that the woman had made. Larrell wasn't looking at her, just staring at the ceiling like she was counting the ceiling tiles.

"Easy to hurt. Big thing hurt them. Hurt them all." Larrell flicked her fingers vaguely. "Big thing. Little thing."

Then her eyes welled with tears and she started sniffling quietly again. Reagan sighed quietly and wrote on her notepad:

[L needs help, no help here]

"Big bad men with three little girls." Larrell muttered, ignoring the tears on her face, her expression blank once more.

Reagan wrote:
[Larrell is nuts?]

and under that:
[almond? walnut? peanut?]

Reagan shook her head. She'd been at this for too many hours if she was starting to get punchy while writing notes.

"You know," Janet Frasier said, when she came over to check on Larrell's sedation, scrawling in a Doctor's hand on the clipboard. "I could prescribe her something."

Reagan rubbed her eyes wearily. "Like what?"

"Hmm..." Janet named a rather harsh anti-psychotic, that made Reagan rear back slightly in surprise that Janet would make such a suggestions.

"No," Reagan started, when paused when Larrell giggled, slightly maniacally. "I don't think that'd be wise."

"Don't I know you...?" Larrell murmured, for the first time, her eyes locked on Janet, and she blinked slowly, in the manner of one who is fighting to stay awake even though sleep is inexorably pulling on their consciousness.

"Probably." Janet said, and produce a vial from her pocket, shaking it thoroughly with one hand before reaching for a syringe resting on a tray beside her, unpackaging the sterile needle and drawing the drug.

Reagan peered at the IV line as Janet inserted the needle into it and deposited its contents. "How much sedative are you giving her?" No small wonder she was incoherent.

Janet removed the needle and gave Reagan a tense smile. "Enough." She noticed the look on Reagan's face. "Would you prefer she became violent again? I'll remind you she broke Airman Hendrik's arm with one hand."

Reagan raised her eyebrows slightly, then nodded in agreement, even as Larrell's head lolled to the side and she seemed to lose consciousness entirely.

"Poor woman." Reagan said, with a sigh. Janet didn't respond.

"Doctor Frasier?"

Janet glanced up at the new arrival, nodding briefly to him. "Major," was all she said in greeting.

"I bear a message from General Hammond," Major Castleman said in a facetious tone, obviously trying to bring a smile to the rather dour looking CMO's face. Janet didn't react, and Castleman sighed very slightly. "He needs you to subject everyone in this facility to an ultrasound or MRI."

Janet brought her hands out of her pockets and folded her arms. "Let me guess what I'm looking for. Snake? About so long." she held her hands about a foot apart. "Generally to be found connected to the Human hindbrain?"

"Got it in one." Castleman said. "As you clear each person, they'll be placed in secure quarters so, hopefully, they won't get infested after you've checked them."

"It's going to take a while to go through the whole base." Reagan commented, playing with her pen, twisting it between her fingers.

"Why do you think General Hammond wants you to start as soon as possible?" Castleman said with a wry smile. Then he looked to Janet. "The General also wants you to check out Major Carter first. Hopefully, she'll be able to cut down the time dramatically, by walking into a room and telling us if there's a Gould in there."

Janet nodded slowly. "Makes sense."

Castleman nodded. "I'll tell the guards to start bringing people down."

Janet nodded at him as he headed for the door, and Reagan got to her feet, pushing her chair against the wall.

"I'll get out of your hair." she said, and raised her voice slightly. "Nurse!" Two white-clad nurses glanced in her direction. "Make sure Larrell's bed is moved to a more private location?"

At Janet's nod of agreement, the two nurses moved to do just that.

**

"Well, in theory, sir, the Goa'uld could have jumped to a new host at any time from when Doctor Frasier saw her to when we found her." Sam said, pushing, along with the rest of Jack and Martouf, through the corridors. Daniel and Teal'c had been ordered to report to the Infirmary for checking. The three were going to the control room, to see if the Goa'uld would try and escape through the Gate.

"Great," muttered Jack, watching everyone about them out of the corner of his eyes. Sam might have sensed any infested person near them, but Jack didn't see that as any reason not to be cautious. "So that leaves... how many people?"

"Virtually the entire base? We couldn't find her for four hours."

"Nice."

Sam sighed and rubbed the back of her neck, stepping to the side to allow a pair of airmen to proceed down the corridor. They were muttering something about being poked and prodded, so it was safe to assume they were either on their way to being scanned, or they had just returned from the Infirmary.

"The Goa'uld probably will try and take a host that will attract the least attention." Sam guessed, glancing at Martouf to see if he agreed. He barely acknowledged her presence. "If it's trying to escape, it won't want to send up signals about its whereabouts."

Jack nodded. "What do you think?" he asked, turning to the third member of their party.

"Leave me alone." Martouf grumbled.

Jack shrugged and turned away from the obviously irritable Tok'ra. Sam could almost hear him thinking, 'Jerk'. "Of course it could just be using reverse psychology."

Sam gave him a Look, indicating that she really didn't need her plans messed up like that. Jack just shrugged slightly as they turned the corner, hiding a smile.

Martouf glanced to the side briefly, and fell out of step with Sam and Jack just before they reached the stretch of corridor that led to the control and Gate rooms.

"I wonder what it's called." Sam mused quietly.

Jack frowned. "Probably not best to think about it," he said as they started up the short flight of steps to the rather sparsely populated control room.

"Major Carter?" Kate Henderson was standing by Lieutenant Simmons, hands in her lab coat pockets.

"Yes?" Sam said, wondering what the Doctor wanted now.

"Doctor Frasier wants to run a quick MRI on you so you can start checking personnel en masse. She's busy with other staff, so she asked me to do it."

Sam nodded, trying not to sigh. She'd just got there, and now was being forced somewhere else. "Right." She gestured in a 'shall we go?' manner. "Lead the way."

Henderson smiled, and headed for the door.

**

'Level 14... 15... nothing.'

It was all Martouf could do not to mutter something especially vile in his irritation. The only reason he didn't start cursing in the middle of the corridors was the thought that some of the Tau'ri guards could hear him and stop him before he could do what needed to be done.

They just didn't understand. None of them did. They couldn't feel their very personalities slipping away minute by minute.

'You never felt it before...' The rather cynical comment came from Martouf's imagination, but for half an instant, he thought it had come from Lantesh, and it made him pause.

'Has it occured to you?' His imagination continued, unperterbed by the fact that Martouf had dismissed it out of hand. 'That you are not acting entirely rationally? Not like you to disobey orders from... oh... three people and go on a little hunt. And let's not mention that incident with Samantha...'

"Shut up." Martouf muttered out loud, trying to silence his imagination once and for all, but it was of no help. Determined to make up for the lack of a companion, his mind was conjuring up voices for him. In a way, Martouf thought, rather than going insane, it was keeping him sane.

'Right,' said the little voice. 'You keep on believing that.'

'Won't have to for long.' Martouf told the voice as he entered the elevator and pressed the button right below the one he had pushed in order to get to Level 15. He'd had to sneak away from the others. They wouldn't have liked it if he'd told them. And they'd have probably locked him in that cold grey room again.

Martouf stepped off the elevator at Sub-Level 16 and carried on his search.

**

Sam opened her eyes, looking at the anxious faces that were staring at her, just as they had in every other room she had checked. The worry that their might be a Goa'uld among them, that they hadn't known about. That it could be their friends. That it could be the person standing next to them. That she could finger them.

Sam shook her head. "All clear in here."

The sound of relief was audible as everyone let out the breaths they had been holding. The marines seemed to untense, realising that they wouldn't have to set upon someone this time.

"Sorry to trouble you." But they were already ignoring her. Sam spun on her heel and walked out, followed closely by Major Castleman.

"That's another thirty people we can check off." Castleman said, nodding to the tech who hurried along beside them, crossing off names on a list. Eliminating the suspects, Sam thought humourlessly. She'd been doing this for what seemed like an eternity, and her head was beginning to hurt.

"Where's next?" Sam asked with a sigh.

Castleman looked at the petite one in a lab coat.

"Biochemistry common room. Currently hosting nineteen chemists." The tech said, hurriedly checking her charts. "Just down the corridor." She pointed the direction.

That was when Sam realised that someone who had been trailing her for quite a while... wasn't there. Hadn't been there for a long time now.

Sam glanced behind her briefly. "Hang on a minute. Has anyone seen Martouf?"

**

{Bad. Dangerous. Very very bad. Badbad.}

One minute, he had been undulating slowly around the container he had come to know (and start to despise), and the next Lantesh had become aware of a person entering the room in which he was being kept. The other moved with a graceful intent, and by the time the other came close enough to be felt/tasted/seen, Lantesh had realised something was wrong.

If only, Lantesh mused as he flailed around, attempting to evade the hand that had suddenly dove into the container trying to catch him, he was ten times larger, had limbs and opposable thumbs, the situation might be different. He was vulnerable without a host, and he did not like it.

The other grasped him painfully tightly just below the chal'r, the spiney growths on his body, and hauled him upwards, out of the relative comfort of the habitat the Tau'ri had provided him with, as he screeched incoherently.

{OWOWOW!!! Painfulpainfulpainful!! LET ME GO!!}

It was then he realised that the other felt/tasted/looked awfully familiar...

**

Maria MacVay was almost unsurprised to come across bloodied and unconscious guards on the floor outside the secure lab. It had become something of a running joke among the special forces officers. The rumour was that they were drawing straws to see who would get guard duty. It seemed that anyone assigned to said duty wound up in the Infirmary sooner, rather than later.

'Security,' Maria thought. 'Is abysmal in this place.'

Maria reached under her lab jacket and carefully drew out the weapon that had been forced on all personnel as soon as they found out the Goa'uld was loose. It had occured to them that it would mean arming the Goa'uld as well, but they really didn't have that many other options.

Maria's mother would have been horrified to learn that her daughter was wandering around armed. "Guns are for soldiers," she had said, upon learning that her daughter was joining the military in her medical capacity. "Now your telling me a nurse is going to be wearing one. Don't know what the world's coming to. Something terrible I tell you. Nurses with guns." At which point, her mother's mind would usually wander along to another topic, with her occasionally making disgusted noises.

Maria had tried to tell her that she wouldn't be wearing a gun. Of course, at the time, she hadn't known she was going to be assigned to the SGC, where every single member of the base had to be checked out on weapons. That included the medical staff.

But she had no intention of walking into whatever was going on in the lab. That was for the soldiers to do. Keeping her hand gun held loosely in one hand, she slapped the alert button, convieniently located on the wall as it was throughout the base, and as the klaxon sounded, and an automated voice announced an intruder alert with appropriate flashing lights, Maria leaned forward slightly to glance in through the small window inset into the door that led into the secure lab.

Inside, she could see someone standing over the symbiote tank, obviously trying to get a grip on the symbiote, which was doing its best to evade the hand, swimming around in the tank.

"Shit." muttered Maria, and stood there, her mind blank, for a few seconds.

'Alright,' she thought. 'Quick math.' The nearest guard station was two sections away, allowing for delayed response, at least another thirty seconds would be taken to get there...

Maria through open the door, hoping the surprise whoever was inside.

Martouf was standing there, holding the symbiote just beneath the spines quite securely, and it was struggling a little in his grasp, screeching in that oddly nerve-rending manner it had. Suddenly it stopped, and seemed to look Martouf right in the face, its tail slowly coiling until it had wrapped itself about his wrist.

"Oh shit..." Maria muttered, before belatedly remembering the gun in her hand and raising it, somewhat unsteadily. She tried to put as much authority into her trembling voice and as much volume as she could muster. "Put the symbiote down." She hesitated a brief moment, then added the modifier. "Now!"

'Wow,' Maria thought. 'That actually sounded confident.'

He just looked at her, and let the symbiote coil along his arm. It slowly slithered its way towards his neck, rumpling the cloth of the borrowed uniform as it progressed, until it was inches away from Martouf's face. He turned his attention away from her, apparently unconcerned with her presence. He looked at the symbiote and opened his mouth.

Maria's stomach flipped and she had to clamp one hand over her mouth as it heaved, as if it thinking about throwing up, but since she hadn't eaten since last night, there was nothing to lose all over the floor. She sincerly hoped she never had to witness a blending again.

Martouf staggered back and had to grip the edge of the steel counter tightly, and Maria was so concerned with her stomach that she almost didn't catch his eyes glowing. Then he straightened, and his whole manner was different. Martouf turned his head slightly, and spat out the blood created by the symbiote's entrance through the back of his mouth, wiping his chin with the back of his hand.

That was when the Special Forces soldiers finally arrived. They took one look at the situation and all raised their weapons to aim at Martouf. Maria realised what they were thinking, and yelled,

"No, wait! Don't shoot!!"

In retrospect, she could understand their disbelieving looks. After all: a nurse giving soldiers orders? But then, she was a nurse with a gun.

Lantesh turned, his eyes flaring briefly with alien light. Maria swallowed, and somehow, managed to keep her hands relatively steady. He looked from her gun to her face and said in a low, demanding tone, like one who is ready to kill something,

"Where is Janet Frasier?"

Maria blinked. "Uh..."

**

Sam stepped into the Infirmary followed by her team, intensely concentrating on all the sensations and impressions she had when she entered the room. There was an almost tangible sense of irritation and impatience from those crammed into the room, but that was hardly unexpected. There was no sign of the Goa'uld. They had been asked to come down to the infirmary, as a hideous backlog had developed, and they were running out of space to put the waiting officers.

Besides, she needed aspirin.

"Daniel!" she called, as she spied him across the room. She waved off one of the SF's who tapped his watch. She'd been checking people for over an hour, they could wait five minutes while she spoke to Daniel.

"You're still here?" she asked him.

Daniel nodded. "Been waiting for a while. There just aren't enough MRI scanners, apparently." Daniel glanced behind him. "Teal'c, at least, isn't having a problem."

Sam leaned to her right to peer around Daniel and through the crush of people, and could see the Jaffa leaning against the wall, doing what looked like a mild form of Kel'no'reem while standing up. How many times would interminable waits have been so much more bearable for her had she been able to do that?

"Sounds like fun." she said dryly.

"Yes, well," Daniel blinked. "If I had a book or something... I could have been translating texts, but instead I'm in a... cattle pen."

As if to punctuate that thought, one of the scientists behind Daniel nudged into him, almost knocking him into Sam. Sam helped him stand up once more and glanced at the nervous looking tech, who had been rushing around the room, checking off names. She looked like she was almost finished.

Sam jerked her head in the direction of the door. "Duty calls," she said, with an apologetic smile.

"Oh, by all means..." Daniel said, leaning against the edge of the nearby bed again.

Sam had just started to force her way through the crowd when a loud klaxon sounded, in addition to an automated recording sounding a security alert. Sam's mind immediately jumped to the conclusion that the reason it would have been sounded, was that the Goa'uld had been cuaght.

Teal'c's eyes opened and he, like the others, looked about him as if searching for the source of the alarm. He, however, did not look nearly as concerned. Major Castleman was forcing his way through the crowd to the door, and Sam followed, to meet up with the SF's.

Sam was brought up short as the familiar sensation, that of the naqada in her blood practically singing to her that ANOTHER was close by, hit her with the force of a truck. The Goa'uld had just entered.

'Where?' Sam asked herself mentally. Sometimes she could only get a vague sensation, like prickling on her skin, but this time it was quite intense. The sort she felt when encountering a fully blended person. Sam had become used to it when interacting with the Tok'ra, or Teal'c, but now, when she was looking for it, it was almost painful.

Jolinar's remnant whispered:
{over there...}

Across the room, Sam's eyes and the Goa'uld's eyes met, and locked. A moment stretched out into eternity as Sam realised the enormity of what she was sensing, just as she saw the Goa'uld was reaching for its sidearm. She started to move, but realised she wasn't fast enough.

Startled yells rose up around the room as the woman the Goa'uld had possessed pulled out her weapon, aimed, and fired at Sam Carter in a move which was too rapid for anyone to respond to. The Major fell to the floor with a pain-ridden cry, fingers covered in blood as she reached up automatically and pressed them to her wound.

The woman who had been Janet Fraiser virtually threw the SF who tried to stop her out of the way, and ran from the room.

**

Maria and the security team she had summoned were not the first to arrive in the main infirmary area following the second alert that had been sounded, courtesy of one of the witnesses to the incident. They were, in fact, the second. The first person on the scene was Martouf.

"Where is Janet Frasier?" he demanded, Lantesh in control, as he burst in through the door. The team following him had to suddenly stop and almost pile up into a heap when Lantesh came to a sudden halt, and took in the chaotic scene before him.

"You couldn't have been two minutes faster?" Daniel Jackson demanded loudly as he and a nurse tried to haul an obviously pain-ridden Sam Carter onto a bed, while the military people milled around, obviously confused as to what they were meant to do.

Had he been there earlier, Lantesh would have realised that the population of the room was about half of what it was; most of the airmen having already run out of the room after Frasier in an attempt to apprehend her.

"What happened?" Lantesh demanded, stepping over to the bed as Doctor Henderson rushed up, pulling on latex gloves and snapping at a nurse to try and get the Major's jacket off. Her upper left arm, just below the shoulder joint, was covered in blood, which still flowed freely.

"Janet shot her." Daniel said shortly. Then paused and glanced at Lantesh. "Wait a minute... you're blended again...?"

Lantesh rolled his eyes, and declined to answer.

"Looks like the bullet went straight through." Henderson said, muttered a curse, and then directed the nurse to apply pressure on the injury while she checked futher. When the others tried to get closer to see, she glared at them. "Will you lot give us some room here?"

Everyone reflexively drew back at her tone, and as Daniel opened his mouth to say something, Teal'c reentered the room, accompanied by two airmen, all of whom (except for Teal'c) looked more than a little out of breath.

"We have not been able to locate Doctor Frasier." reported Teal'c, tersely.

"The presence of a symbiote will have increased her natural speed and agility. And occupying a Tok'ra host will have given it knowledge of evasion tactics." Lantesh said, inclining his head respectfully to Teal'c, signifying that he knew the Jaffa was not at fault. Teal'c nodded, accepting it.

A short yelp of pain from Sam brought everyone's attention back to the woman lying on the bed, being tended to by MacVay and Henderson. "Oh don't be such a wimp." The Doctor chided softly, mopping up the blood from the wound. "Maria, pass me that dressing would you?"

"Someone needs to inform the General." Maria said, as she unpackaged the required dressing from its sterile wrapping.

Daniel nodded. "Airman... well, one of the airmen, left right after Janet did to tell him what happened."

"Considering the whole base is on alert, he must have heard."

"He did." said a familiar texan-accented voice from the doorway as General Hammond entered.

"Sir," Henderson said, in idle greeting as he approached the group hanging around near Sam's bed.

Hammond nodded to Sam. "How is she, Doctor?"

"Needs stiches, there's quite a bit of internal damage, but nothing serious. Might need a local in order to do some of the patching up." Henderson said, drawing some sort of drug from a vial and preparing to inject it into the Major. "She'll live."

"Good." Hammond said, and raised his chin slightly. "All SG teams are to commence and immediate search of the base. Doctor Jackson, meet up with Colonel at the armoury and join his team. Now." Daniel nodded and headed for the exit. "Lantesh, you'll go with Teal'c, Miller and Hendrik and also start sweeping the base. We have a spare hand device you can use."

Lantesh nodded. "That will be useful."

"Is it likely that the Goa'uld will jump hosts again?" Hammond asked, staring intently at Lantesh.

Lantesh paused, thinking about it. "Even when a symbiote transfers to a healthy host, there is a period of adjustment, before it can totally subsume the host personality. During that period there is some... disorientation. In these circumstances, the Goa'uld cannot afford that."

"So we're still looking for Doctor Frasier." Lantesh nodded. "Alright, get moving people. We need to find her, fast."

Hammond spun on his heel as the airmen still in the infirmary broke up and left the room, heading for their team leaders to receive their orders. Lantesh watched them for a moment, then held up his hand to Teal'c, indicating to wait for a moment.

He moved over to the side of the bed. Henderson didn't object to his approach for the moment; she was too busy sorting out a tray of medical equipment with Maria's help.

"Samantha," Lantesh leant down towards her, ignoring the nervous mental tugging of his host to leave, and leave now. "We must speak with you."

"I know," Sam whispered, then looked to the side, deliberately avoiding his gaze. "Later. Go and find Janet."

Lantesh reached out, half intending to touch her cheek, to reassure her that all would be well. But both her expression, and Martouf's emotional turmoil dissauded him from doing so, and he straightened, jogging across the room to join Teal'c.

**

The slight vibration in its own body told Runako where its next target should be, in addition to the memories and knowledge it had extracted from its host. It was unfortunate that Major Carter had been in the right place to sense her, but the past was done and could not be changed. Runako needed to get off the planet, and wouldn't be able to fight its way through the Tau'ri ranks with the pitiful weapon it possessed. It needed something much more powerful.

Which the Tau'ri were kind enough to leave in a place that Runako knew where to find.

The Goa'uld entered the secured storage area, and realised from the reactions of the technicians stationed there, that they had not heard of which host Runako had taken, for they smiled in greeting, and made no move to resist.

One of the two technicians that was sitting in the lab, sipping that disgusting caffienated beverage that the Tau'ri were so fond of, smiled brightly at Runako as the Goa'uld glanced about the room, quickly locating the safe in which Goa'uld weaponry was secured.

Which would include a hand device.

"Hi Janet," the tech said. "What can we do you for?"

Runako pressed its lips together and raised the Tau'ri weapon, aiming at the tech who had spoken. Runako knew its eyes glowed, and both the techs' eyes widened until whites could be seen around their irises.

"Oh hell." the second technician said. "You're not Janet, are you?"

Runako shook her host's head.

**

SG3 were the team assigned to the section that was mainly occupied with secure labs (of which there were several in the SGC), when they heard the gunshot. Either someone else had located the Goa'uld and was taking pot shots at it, or else the Goa'uld itself was getting trigger happy. Neither option was particularly appealing.

In any case, Ferretti in the lead, they ran down the corridor, weapons drawn and at the ready.

They came to a stop, taking up positions either side of the door in pairs. Hunter peeked through the crack in the door and nodded. [She's in there.] was mouthed to Ferretti.

[Ok,] mimed Ferretti. [On three. One. Two.]

A blur of motion suprised them all as the door flung open, striking Ferretti in the face and staggering him back a couple of paces. The others raised their weapons, but hesitated when they realised their assailant was raising her left arm, a Goa'uld hand device glowing dangerously.

Their hesitation cost them. As Frasier, or the Goa'uld that infested her, started to move, a wave of energy released from the device and slammed into Fields. She pushed Ferretti out of her way and ran down the corridor.

Fields struck the far wall of the hallway, her skull making an audible crack against the concrete wall, and slumped boneless to the floor. Kingston and Hunter dropped to their knees, and starting shooting at the Goa'uld, but the bullets reflected harmlessly off her personal defense shield.

Then she was gone.

Hunter got to his feet and made a move to follow to Frasier, but halted at Ferretti's wave. Hunter nodded in response, understanding his CO's reasoning. At the speed she'd been running, there was no way they'd catch up with her.

Ferretti was already kneeling by Fields, who was struggling to prop herself up on her elbows.

"Anyone get the number of that brick wall?" muttered Fields indistinctly.

"You ok?" Ferretti asked.

Fields glared as well as her unfocussed eyes would allow. "What do you think?" she slurred, before sagging back, blinking up at the ceiling without any conscious thought behind her action. Her breathing was shallow and she had gone pale.

"She's probably concussed." Kingston reported, carefully taking the Captain's pulse.

Ferretti nodded and reached for his radio, making contact with the control room.

"What is it, Colonel?" Simmons' voice came over the radio, being the one to be working the radio.

"We've got a medical emergency. Level twenty one, section two. The Gould attacked us," Ferretti peered through the open door and grimaced at the limp bodies lying on the floor. "and a couple of technicians. Two dead, one injured."

There was a pause. "Medical assistance en route. Where is the Gould now?"

"Heading towards section three, but it could be anywhere by now."

Another pause. "Acknowledged. Control out."

**

The pain in Sam's shoulder was causing her no end of trouble, not the least of which was the struggle to stay conscious (combined with the painkillers she had been dosed with). But what perplexed her more than anything was the shrieking and shouting she could here just out of her line of sight. She could hear what was going on, but couldn't see.

There was an almightly crash and Sam raised her head enough to see a nurse go flying through an open doorway, followed by a cascade of equipment that seemed to have been knocked off a trolley.

The violence somehow seemed incongruous with the fact that it was perpetrated by a slight woman with mussed up hair, dressed in a hospital gown (over which was thrown a lab coat she had obviously taken from some doctor). Larrell entered the room balancing lightly on the balls of her bare feet, obviously ready to bolt at the slightest provocation.

Her gaze flicked around the room until it rested on Sam, who had been given a sleeveless t-shirt to replace the one cut away by the medics, and who had her arm strapped to her chest. She hurried across the room, then poked the rather groggy looking major in the temple.

"Wakey." Larrell murmured, obviously thinking that Sam was asleep.

Sam would have brushed the woman's hand away, but wasn't able to move the arm closest, and so just raised her head a little to let it be known she was awake. "What is it?" she demanded, glancing at the groaning nurse on the floor before looking back at Larrell.

Larrell rocked backwards slightly in the direction of the door. "Come with."

"How did you get loose?" Sam asked slowly, confused.

"Drugs..."

"They gave you drugs?"

Larrell shook her head. "Stopped."

Sam formed a silent 'oh' with her lips.

"Have to stop her. Must stop her." Larrell said.

"Janet...?" Sam asked, frowning, trying to think through the pain. "People are chasing her now... I think... They'll stop her."

"You can't. Not prepared." Larrell seemed very upset, her face scrunched up in pain.

Sam knew what the woman was referring to. "They have Lantesh." she pointed out.

"Not enough." Larrell swayed uncertainly on her feet, fingers flicking in agitation. "Assist me." she said firmly. "You know. Bad. Hurts. Poor Janet." Larrell pressed her hands against the side of her head, probably flashing back to being held under the Goa'uld's power.

Sam stared at Larrell for a long moment, reliving her own pain. "Alright." she finally said and held out her hand to Larrell's. "Come with me."

Larrell gripped her hand so tightly that it was almost painful.

**

"Your host is most silent."

Teal'c's abstute abservation startled Lantesh, even though he managed to prevent to urge to flinch from manifesting. That would have shown weakness, and showing weakness to the Tau'ri was the last thing he needed to have to deal with at that precise moment in time.

The Tau'ri airmen assigned to their team appeared to be studiously avoiding eavesdropping, looking alertly about them and into the rooms they were checking, Lantesh hanging back slightly so that he would have room to wield the Goa'uld weapon the Tau'ri had been quietly keeping in their possession. While they looked uninterested, the Tok'ra had no doubt that they were hanging on every word. Lantesh spoke in response to Teal'c's comment anyway.

"He wishes it that way." Lantesh said, in retrospect, a tad snappishly, but he felt his attitude was warranted. "As do I. Martouf's recent behaviour has been... inexcusable."

Martouf, quite clearly, said, 'Traitor.'

Lantesh sent:
{anger}

Lantesh said, 'It is true. You attempted to do physical harm to Samantha! Your attitude cannot simply be excused by a degeneration of the nervous system. You and I both know it works fast, but not that fast!! If you have harmed relations with her... with the Tau'ri, I will be holding you accountable.'

A long mental silence (which lasted less than half a second in real time) reigned between them.

Then, Martouf said, 'You bit Frasier.'

Lantesh gave him a blip of negative emotion to show his displeasure.

Lantesh said, 'She was attempting to apply pressure to my perival nerve. It was self defense. You have no such excuse.'

Martouf sent:
{subconscious grumblings}

Lantesh said, 'I heard that. And we will have this out, Martouf.'

Martouf went silent, completely and utterly. He totally blocked his own mind off from that of his symbiote's, and Lantesh was alone. Lantesh sighed audibly and returned all of his focus outward. The entire, rather one-sided, conversation had taken place in the time it took to take two steps down the corridor. The sigh had probably seemed to be an addition to his words.

Direct synaptic linkage, Lantesh mused, and not for the first time, was so much more efficient than clumsy linguistical interface.

'"Language is inaccurate". Thank you, Breia R-12462, for putting that into the minds of everyone who works with the Council.' Lantesh mentally directed his grumbles to a woman light-years away who couldn't possibly hear him.

It was so much more appealing than facing the problems he was having with his host. Or his host was having with him. Lantesh hadn't quite decided which it was yet.

"Is that so?" Teal'c said, looking at Lantesh in an unnerving manner. "May I ask why?"

Lantesh unconsciously flexed his left hand, and didn't notice when the jewel glowed brighter with barely suppressed energy. "I would prefer you did not." he said tightly.

Teal'c, however, did notice the hand device. "I see." he said neutrally, and returned his attention to their patrol.

Lantesh made a final, vague attempt at trying to get his host's attention, but Martouf had retreated to that private corner of his mind where not even Lantesh would dare intrude. Martouf had done this before; shortly after Jolinar had been confirmed dead, and right had he had been Blended, still reveling in the pain caused by the destruction of his homeworld.

Lantesh had not pried then, and he wasn't going to pry now. Not just yet anyway.

The team continued on their search.

**

The Tau'ri were fortunate in one way. They had managed to steal quite a few weapons from the Goa'uld over time, and had a total of three hand devices. One from Cimmeria, one from Seth, and one from Ate. Lantesh and the Goa'uld that had taken over each had one. Leaving one which Sam intended to commandeer.

"Major, I /really/ don't think you should be doing that." The Airman was looking most upset at the thought of letting her near the lab he had been ordered to let no one in under any circumstances. Of course, Sam and the woman with her (who unnerved the Airman in that she didn't seem to blink very often, not to mention the fact like she was dressed like she had just made a jail break from a mental ward) had just brushed past him and into the lab.

Larrell waved her hands at him. "Shoo." She said, and when he hesitated, pushed the airman out of the door and slammed it behind him with surprising strength.

Sam started to input the access code into the safe. "I hope it's still here." she muttered to herself as she pulled the door open and removed the tray which contained both the harakash and the remaining hand device. She passed over the weapon, trying not to flinch visibly as-

//... the Ashrak standing before us, a bright light emanating from the device in his palm... oh Samantha... I'm so sorry...//

-a memory from Jolinar flitted through her mind. Larrell reached past her before she could remove the device from its foam packaging and lifted it free herself. She eyed the device carefully, as if it were a venomous serpent, before she started to slip it over her hand, carefully arranging the finger-tip sections of the device.

"Are you sure you should use that?" Sam asked, a little unnerved.

Larrell looked pointedly at Sam's left arm, still in its sling. "You can't." she said flatly.

Sam paused, then nodded. "Ok..."

Larrell turned her hand over and stared at the red jewel inset into the palm of the device. It lit up her face with its ethereal fire.

**

Daniel and Jack's team did not appear to be having much luck in locating Janet. Daniel briefly thought back to the exercise they had performed a nearly two weeks earlier. The scenario had been that of a Goa'uld infesting a member of the SGC and running amok. Daniel also recalled heartily hoping that they would not have to turn that drill into reality. Of course, he was not so naieve as to believe they would not have had to. But why did it have to come so soon after such a drill? And why did it have to be Janet?

And why hadn't they noticed it? In retrospect, it did make sense. Larrell, or rather the Goa'uld within her, had obviously hated Janet, and it fitted a Goa'uld mentality to take revenge by making the Doctor an unwilling host. And what better a person to infest than the woman responsible for hunting out the infestation?

It made sense. And yet, it did not. Everything the Goa'uld did was senseless.

The radio crackled for a second before a voice came over it. "This is Unit Two. We just spotted the hostile," (such an impersonal term, Daniel thought) "Heading west down corridor C3, level 28."

There was a pause, then Simmons' voice came from control, acknowledging the information. Jack glanced back at his team.

"Ok, she seems to be heading in this direction. Stay sharp peo-"

"Sir!" One of the marines suddenly shouted and raised his weapon.

Jack instinctively threw himself to the side, turning as he did, to glance behind him. The marines started shooting, but missed, partially do the fact that they didn't take the time to aim. Frasier just glanced at them, a faintly bored expression on her face, before raising her arm.

Daniel only caught the edge of the wave from her hand device, and it still flung him against the wall. One airman went straight into the blast door, with an oddly loud crack, while the other one struck his head as he was flung back and slumped to the floor.

Then all of the others started to return fire, but after a moment, the spark of bullets reflecting off against a yellow field reminded all present of the futility of such an action as the Goa'uld took off at a run and disappeared at the end of the corridor.

Daniel started to pick himself to his feet, simultaneously staggering towards the fallen marines as Jack barked a report into his radio. While one airman was simply unconscious, though probably concussed, the other's head hung at an odd angle, eyes staring sightlessly into space. The crack he had heard must have been the man's neck breaking, Daniel thought, as he solemnly closed the man's eyes.

He looked up to see Jack staring at him mutely, waiting for his report. Daniel simply shook his head.

"Crap." Jack muttered, looking away from the bodies, reaching for the radio to inform Hammond that they might not require as many medics as they thought.

The radio crackled into life before he touched it. "This is Unit Four! We have sight of the hostile. She's heading for the Gateroom along corridor B4. Repeat, heading for the Gateroom, corridor B4!"

"The Gateroom," Daniel heard Jack mutter. "They always head for the Gateroom. Why didn't we just go there in the first place? Daniel, stay here until the medics get here. You two. With me."

**

The Goa'uld stood halfway up the ramp to the Stargate, using her slightly elevated position to be able to see all the personnel who crammed into the Gateroom, kneeling, crouching or standing, depending on whether that would get them a clear shot at her. None of them made a move to fire though. Her hand device glowed, and one experimental shot by an over-zealous airman had already assured them that the forcefield was still surrounding Frasier.

As Jack entered, trigger-happy marines close by, he found himself standing next to Martouf/Lantesh, who look like he had gotten entirely too little sleep recently. There was a set to his jaw that Jack didn't like.

"She's just standing there." Lantesh murmured to Jack as he realised the Colonel was standing next to him. The voice distortion clearly told Jack who was in charge of the body.

The Goa'uld's eyes flicked in their direction at the sound of Lantesh's voice, before she returned her attention to the control room.

"Lower your weapon," Hammond instructed. "And you will not be harmed."

Frasier raised her chin. "I will not."

"Talkative girl, isn't she." muttered Jack, stepping slightly to the right so he could get a clearer aim of Frasier in between the two guards in front of him.

"You will open the Stargate." The Goa'uld said in very slow, very precise speech. Her accent was very different to Frasier's in that it sounded vaguely mid-Atlantic.

"That is not going to happen." Hammond said over the speaker. "Put down your weapon and surrender."

The Goa'uld tilted her head. "I will not co-operate."

"Of course you won't." muttered Jack, earning him a glance from Lantesh, before the Tok'ra returned his attention to the stand-off.

"No one is going to open the Stargate." Hammond said firmly.

Jack tried to keep his eyes off the airman that was creeping through the ranks of guards, armed with a tranquilizer gun. Their hope was probably that the dart, moving at a lesser speed than a bullet, would penetrate a personal forcefield. The trick would be to keep the Goa'uld (whatever its name actually was) from realising the airman was approaching.

"Then we have a problem." The Goa'uld, deliberately using Frasier's inflections.

"Surrender to us, and release your host and you will not be harmed."

Frasier tilted her head and licked her lips in a manner so un-Frasier like that it almost caused Jack to shudder. "I like this host." She enunciated carefully, as if tasting the words as she spoke them. "She's mine."

The tranquilizer gun-toting airman carefully took up position and started to raise his weapon.

Frasier raised her arm, and a solid wall seemed to slam into all the guards in the general vicinity of the one who had been attempting to get a clear shot. Nearly half a dozen airmen were flung against the wall. Jack was thankful for the fact that they had had enough presence of mind to make sure that the safety had been on their weapons, or they could have had an even bigger problem.

Lantesh took advantage of the distraction to raise his own arm a little higher. As he unleashed an energy wave from his hand device, Frasier turned and retaliated in kind.

The two near-invisible waves crashed into each other and promptly dissipated with a sudden draft of displaced air. From Lantesh's expression and his muttered curse, Jack guessed there was some sort of trick to using the hand device so that didn't happen. He remembered Sam's use of the hand device, able to defeat Seth, even after he had released a wave from the device on her. Definitely some sort of trick.

Jack idly wondered if Jolinar had been good at that trick.

"You should have known not to do that." It was clear the Goa'uld was speaking to Hammond, but she was glaring menacingly at Lantesh, obviously recognising him as Tok'ra in spite of his Earth military attire.

Hammond said nothing, just staring resolutely at Frasier.

"Wha- What are you doing?" The cries from outside in the corridor, on the other side of the Gateroom to where Jack was, drew his attention away from the tense situation before them.

"Larrell?" Jack heard Lantesh's puzzled-sounding voice, but couldn't tear his eyes away from the woman who burst through the ranks of guards, unceremoniously shoving them to the floor. Not only was it her rather unusual clothes, but her eyes were wide and had a glazed look about them. Sam was only a few steps behind her, looking distinctly worried.

That was when Jack realised that Larrell was wearing a hand device. Looking as crazed as Larrell did while wearing a device that could be incredibly destructive if it was put to such usage was not, in Jack's opinion, a very good thing.

Larrell forced her way through the last line of airmen separating her from the Goa'uld and stepped onto the ramp, rapidly closing the distance between her and the possessed Doctor Frasier. The Goa'uld seemed to only now be becoming aware of the other woman's presence. The alien barely had time to turn and give Larrell a confused look before the former Tok'ra reached her.

Before the Goa'uld could bring her own hand device to bear, Larrell started to move, and, for a moment, Jack thought she was going to try to punch the Goa'uld. He had no doubt that the creature would have been able to block Larrell with ease, but as soon as Larrell's hand was through the forcefield, she uncurled her fist to display the angrily glowing hand device she wore.

The Goa'uld blinked in shock and started to move her own arm to take Larrell down, but the woman had already activated her hand device, and tendrils of red-orange energy were already stretching between Larrell's hand and Frasier's forehead. The tendrils seemed to caress Frasier's skin even as the woman's face contorted into a pain-filled grimace and she opened her mouth, silently for a few seconds, and then letting out a cry of pain as she dropped to her knees, Larrell following her movements.

Frasier's hand device deactivated itself, and the forcefield went down, as the mind of the user lost its ability to control the advanced weaponry. But still Larrell did not stop. Frasier was sweating profusely now, and was starting to cry in pain with greater frequency.

"LARRELL! STOP!"

Sam seemed to be the only one with the presence of mind to speak out loud to the woman. Who visibly flinched at the sound of another voice calling her name. She turned quizzical eyes on Sam, who stood not too far behind her, having crept up the ramp while Larrell was occupied.

"We need her alive." Sam said simply.

Larrell seemed to consider that, and then, almost abruptly, the energy tendrils dissipated, and Frasier collapsed with a grunt to the floor, completely unconscious. There was a moment of rather stunned silence in the Gateroom.

"Take her to secured quarters. Have a medical team see to her there." General Hammond, dispatching orders via the intercom. Several of the team leaders glanced up at him, while Major Castleman waved forward several people to pick up the unconscious Goa'uld.

That was when the first chevron locked.

"Unscheduled offworld activation!" Sergeant Harriman sounded less urgent and more annoyed as the second, third, and fourth chevrons locked in quick succession. "Closing iris."

Sam crept forward a little more and gripped Larrell's arm. The Tok'ra didn't resist her as she pulled the hand device off the woman, who stared dully into space. She started to tug on Larrell's arm and start to lead her off the ramp.

"She hurt me. She hurt my poor Aela." Larrell said, in a near whisper. "She had to hurt."

"I know." Sam answered in an equally low tone, almost drowned out as the wormhole activated.

"Receiving Tok'ra GDO code." came Simmons' voice, followed closely by Hammond's order to open the iris.

"The Tok'ra." murmured Larrell. "Oh dear. What will I tell them?"

As if that thought was the breaking point, Larrell collapsed bonelessly to the floor and began hugging her knees to her chest. Unable to do much else, Sam knelt down next to her, and held the woman as sobs wracked her slender frame.

**

Jacob had come to the conclusion, in the time that he had been blended with Selmak, that the human mind was extremely susceptible to disorientation. Or at least, extremely so when compared with the symbiote. For example, a Tok'ra closed their eyes and bowed their heads whenever host or symbiote became dominant over control over the host body. But this was only necessary for the Human host, who tended to experience a wave of dizziness when control was suddenly returned to them. The symbiotes had no such trouble; if they so desired, they could take control without batting an eyelid, but obeyed the convention of at least closing their eyes so that others could tell when the switch over occured.

Similarly, Jacob had found that since being blended, Stargate travel did not affect him greatly. At first he had put this down to experience with Gate travel, until Selmak absently commented that controlling inner-ear problems, and suppressing nausea wasn't as hard to deal with as it looked and cited Gate transit as an example. So, all that Jacob normally experienced when stepping through the Gate was a momentary need to gain his bearings, since he had been instantaneously moved from one world to the other.

This time, when he stepped through the Gate from the Tok'ra world to Earth, he (and Selmak) were so surprised at what greeted them that she almost forgot to regulate the gag-reflex and he felt his stomach do a quick somersault before Selmak regained control. He also stopped so quickly that there was a slight "oof" and an impact as Breia, who was not expecting him to stop like that, walked straight into his back. The Healers just stood in a loose group and stared at the scene. The guards looked confused.

At the base of the ramp, Sam was hugging Larrell, who was attired in a Tau'ri labcoat and not much else, as the Tok'ra rocked back and forth in a foetal ball, sobbing. Sam was refusing to look in the direction of Martouf/Lantesh, even though he was staring at her in obvious concern as he stood with a still-glowing hand device with several heavily armed Tau'ri guards, including Colonel O'Neill.

Janet Frasier was being hauled, unconscious, to her feet, by Teal'c and several armed guards who all looked strong enough to drop-kick a Teltak into orbit. One was prising a hand device off her left hand, and all the Tok'ra could sense the distinctive presence of a symbiote within her, as well as the noticeable lack of such signature within Larrell. The room was packed with what seemed like half the military (again, all armed to the teeth and looking like they were itching for an excuse to fight) compliment of the mountain.

Daralis muttered, "We missed something. Something big. Or are the Tau'ri always like this?" She received a rather unsubtle elbow in the ribs from Hanne for a response.

Breia blinked, slowly looking at each person in turn. Then she raised her hand to gain attention from the control room. "Question?"

Jacob grabbed her wrist and forced her hand back down to the side. "Not now, Breia."

**

In the control room, the technicians, as well as General Hammond, looked down upon the scene. Simmons was mainly focussed on the Tok'ra group, which consisted of Jacob, three women in robes that looked fairly elaborate, three more women in simple green robes, clustered behind the tall women with white hair. There were three more Tok'ra attired as the Tau'ri usually saw them, in the sandy beige uniforms as Jacob was, one of whom was female, while the other two were male.

"Why are they all female?" murmured Simmons to Harriman, looking at the Tok'ra entourage curiously.

Davies stabbed him in the hand with her pen. "Don't generalise!" she snapped, and ignored the Lieutenant as he clutched his hand. "Male chauvanist pig." she muttered, before bending with great industry to reviewing the Stargate diagnostic on her terminal at the look General Hammond shot her.

**

After Doctors Warner and Henderson had arrived on the scene in the Gateroom, they had summarily ordered Sam to be taken to the infirmary as she certainly shouldn't have been up, Larrell to be taken to a private, and locked, room, while they left security to deal with Janet, all while the Tok'ra stood, looked bemused, at the top of the ramp, waiting for someone to give them a pointer as to what to do next.

They had been asked to go to the briefing room, and a few minutes later, were joined by the psychologist who was introduced to them as Doctor Reagan, Colonel O'Neill, General Hammond and Teal'c (Daniel having been taken to the infirmary with head injuries that hadn't been noticed at first, but had definitely been caused by the Goa'uld's hand device). Lantesh had joined the group, but had seated himself on the same side of the table as the Tau'ri, and slightly apart from the main group, showing clearly that he didn't want to talk to anyone. The Tok'ra knew who was in charge. Martouf never looked so arrogantly sure of himself.

Taking turns, the SGC personnel had slowly explained the circumstances that had occured in the SGC after Jacob had left. For the most part, the Tok'ra listened attentively, contributing nothing, once or twice asking for clarification, but all the way through taking the information in stoically. Even Lantesh listened carefully; after all, he had missed most of what had happened while suffering from the virus' effects or separated from his host.

When that little detail came up, the expression on several of the Tok'ra faces became one of shock and horror. Curiously, neither Breia nor Hanne reacted in any outward way, apart from a little bob of the head on Hanne's part.

"You put him in a sarcophagus?" Daralis asked in a horrified voice, speaking for the first time, and, in the Tok'ra hierarchy, out of turn, but she ignored Jacob's reprimanding look.

"It was the only way." Reagan said, her status as the only medical individual at the meeting demanding that she speak up for the actions of her department. "Or... so I'm told." she fell quietly, obviously unnerved by the Tok'ra's presence and looked at Hammond for a cue.

"It was necessary." Hanne suddenly said, while Breia agreed, garnering the pair surprised looks from the others.

"Both Lantesh and his host would have died." Breia pointed out. "Such a loss is unacceptable. As it was not used while healthy, I believe the side-effects will be minimal."

"Breia..." Selmak was speaking. "That is totally against our phil-"

Breia raised a hand sharply. "I am aware of this." Dalir said, passion in her voice. "It was necessary, and I and my host accept this. It is a subject for debate. Later."

No one was more surprised than Jacob when Selmak simply shut up and looked away. Dalir's voice brooked no argument, and besides which, fighting in front of the Tau'ri was not promoting a unified front.

"What about Larrell?" Hanne asked, quietly changing the subject. She looked almost afraid, if one were to look at her in a certain way. "How is she?"

Hammond looked to Reagan. "Doctor?"

Reagan blew air out through thinned lips and looked to the Tok'ra. "Does the the term manic depressive mean anything to you?"

Chavi blinked. "No."

Reagan paused a moment, then shook her head and turned her full attention to her notes. "Erm... well, it didn't help that Jan... the Goa'uld was keeping her so drugged up on... ah..." Reagan shuffled her note. "thioridazine, also known as mellaril... which is certainly not what I'd prescribe for something like this... and it was mixed in with some other junk... Larrell just couldn't think straight, and I think it did some serious psychological damage. One minute she's high as a kite, the next, so depressed..." Reagan trailed off, shuffling her notes as a cover. "Or that could just be the result of her... experience."

Reagan fell silent, her lack of words admitting louder than any statement could have that she did not have the first idea how to deal with her patient.

"I wish to see Larrell." Chavi said, stepping into the void created by Reagan's silence. "I am a mindhealer. No offence, Doctor," Chavi nodded to Reagan at that. "But I am more qualified to assess this woman's mental state than anyone on Earth."

"None taken." muttered Reagan.

"Do you think you can help her?" asked Hammond.

Chavi blinked. "I will not know until I see her."

"Erm... I can take her, sir." Reagan said, fiddling with her