Heart's Desire (3 page)

“Not to worry,” Jack said. “I'm sure we can make a deal for something else.”

“We have many fine woolen goods to offer,” Tolar said.

Sam looked at Jack, feeling a certain lack of optimism about whether this mission was going to turn out to be useful at all, but he only shrugged. “Sure. We'll take a look.”

She couldn't help wondering what the colonel was thinking. He wasn't usually particularly patient with trading missions, especially ones that looked likely to end with having to find a diplomatic way of saying ‘you're really nice people, but I don't think you have anything we want.' Instead, he seemed content with the way things were going. He was leaning back in his seat, his sunglasses making his expression harder to read.

Teal'c, on the other hand, did look bored, if only because his expression was the impassive one that she was learning meant that he didn't want anyone else to know what was on his mind. Probably being Apophis's First Prime had involved a lot of standing around trying not to look bored. Probably the times when he'd been fighting boredom had been better than the times when he hadn't.

For a moment she could picture it, Teal'c standing next to Apophis with that familiar impassive expression. She wasn't entirely sure if that was imagination or residual memory
—
would Jolinar have ever had reason to meet with Apophis? Probably not, she decided, and then realized too late that asking herself the question had been a bad idea, opening up a door she'd been trying to keep firmly shut.

 
She closed her eyes against the intrusive flash of memory, the smell of sulfur in Ne'tu's punishingly hot air, the screams of the other prisoners, the stone floor hard under her knees. She wasn't sure if that was Jolinar's memory or hers, and she really didn't want to know.

“Carter?” Jack asked. His tone was casual, but when she opened her eyes, he was watching her closely. Damn it.

“It's nothing,” she said. “Just feeling the altitude a little, I think.”

He raised his eyebrows but didn't argue with her.

“I think we're coming in for a landing,” she said, pointing out the window. It was an effective distraction, since bringing the airship into the hangar involved a few minutes where it looked alarmingly like they were going to crash straight into the side of a rocky cliff. Jack looked like he was barely repressing the urge to try to backseat drive, and Teal'c didn't look much happier to be a passenger.

Instead they threaded the broad door of the hanger neatly, drifting into the enormous stone room with the noise of the propeller dying. The crew sprang into action, scrambling out and down rope ladders that hung to the floor below, where a ground crew was catching at dangling lines and clipping them quickly to huge iron mooring rings set into the stone floor.

The gondola rocked and then jerked as the ropes caught the ship, stopping the forward drift that would have eventually sent it into the far wall. It took a few minutes for the stairs to be lowered so that they could scramble down without climbing a ladder, apparently a courtesy offered to guests. Or possibly to women, Sam couldn't help thinking; there didn't seem to be any women among the crew either on the ship or on the ground.

“All right,” Jack said when they were back on the ground, spreading his hands. “Take us to your leader.”

Sam gave him a look behind Tolar's back as Tolar led the way.

“I always like to say that,” he said, again perfectly deadpan.

She shook her head, still not sure what had brought on this mood, but all the same she couldn't help smiling.

T
eal'c stayed watchful as Tolar led them through a series of twisting hallways, some built of stone blocks or bricks, others seemingly chiseled into the side of the mountain. It would be easy to lose track of the way back to the airship hangar if he let himself become distracted. O'Neill was smiling easily, leaning closer to Major Carter to make some joking remark, but Teal'c could see his sharp eyes making note of each turning as well.

Daniel Jackson was paying more attention to the figures that lined many of the walls, carved reliefs and painted images of somber great cats and broad-winged birds. He seemed entirely distracted, having to be nudged by Major Carter to make one of the turnings rather than continuing on alone down an empty corridor, but Teal'c had no doubt that he could retrace his route by recalling each piece of art or engraved inscription they had passed.

“A lot of this looks Caananite,” he said, stretching up to look at the top of one weathered painting, a winged goddess whose feathers were blurred as if by the touch of many hands over the years. “The names would fit, although of course there's been considerable linguistic drift…”

“And that means?” O'Neill said, collecting him with a glance.

He began walking again, but looked at Tolar before he answered. “It's just interesting.”

O'Neill rolled his eyes but did not pursue the matter, apparently accepting that whatever he had to say was best brought up when their guide was no longer present. Possibly he had formed some theory about the Goa'uld to whom this planet's inhabitants paid tribute.

According to the inhabitants to whom they had spoken, the Goa'uld came only rarely to Saday to collect divine offerings from its people. There was no sign of a permanent Jaffa presence at all, which in itself suggested the world was not promising as a trading partner. If there had been deposits of naquadah or other valuables, the Goa'uld would have occupied the world rather than apparently paying it little mind.

He suspected, though, that General Hammond had intended the mission as a chance for the team to rest. O'Neill had been wounded on Ne'tu, and although Dr. Fraiser assured him that the wound was healing well for a human, humans healed slowly enough that Teal'c was not sure how they tolerated it. Major Carter had seemed troubled ever since their return, although perhaps it was merely her worry about her father, who had remained confined to the infirmary for several days despite having his symbiote's assistance in healing.

It was harder to tell how Daniel Jackson had fared on Ne'tu. He had spoken very little of their time there, or at least he had spoken little of it to Teal'c. That might mean much or nothing. He knew from their debriefing that on Ne'tu, his friend had faced Apophis and told him of Amonet's death. It would have given Apophis pain to hear that his mate was dead, but it must also have given Daniel Jackson great pain to speak of it. His wife Sha're had died along with Amonet, struck down by Teal'c's staff blast.

He had assured Teal'c that he forgave him for killing Sha're, and that he understood that Teal'c had made the choice he had to make. Teal'c could still see it all too clearly, Amonet forcing Daniel Jackson to his knees, his body convulsing as she racked him with the ribbon device, Sha're's face twisted with Amonet's fierce smile. He had simply gazed into her eyes, ignoring his agony, searching her face for any sign that Sha're still knew him, his weapon slipping from his hand.

And Teal'c had been the one there, and he had done what he must. Daniel Jackson forgave him for it, or so he had said, his voice clear and his expression intent, urging him to believe it. It was what Sha're wanted, he had said, and Teal'c had accepted his forgiveness as balm for his own regret.

They had not spoken of anything beyond trivialities since their return from Ne'tu. That might mean much or nothing, Teal'c told himself again, and returned his thoughts firmly to the doorway in front of which they had stopped.

“Please wait in the audience chamber,” Tolar said. “The minister of trade will be sent to speak with you.”

“Great,” O'Neill said.

They entered an airy room whose main feature was a long table that looked much like the conference tables of the Tau'ri, although it was set with low stone benches that had no arms. Along two sides of the room, wide square windows looked out across the gap that surrounded the peak, from this angle showing only the dark slopes of distant mountains against the deep blue sky, their heights glittering white.

Major Carter and Daniel Jackson pulled up benches to the table while O'Neill investigated the view out the window.

“They don't seem to believe in safety railings here,” O'Neill said. “Or window screens.”

“Don't fall out the window, sir,” Major Carter said, with a hint of a smile.

“Thanks, Carter,” O'Neill said. “I'll try not to. You'd think this place would get drafty when it rains.”

“They probably have window screens, in the sense of solid screens of some kind that can be fitted into the windows,” Daniel Jackson said. “Servants would do that. Everything we've seen suggests that there's a lot of manpower going into supporting this kind of lifestyle at this level of technology, even if they are using some labor-saving devices.”

“We have ceremonial buildings back on Earth,” Major Carter said.

“Well, yes, and how many people does it take to keep the White House looking like that? I'm just saying, carving this place out of rock has been a substantial investment of somebody's time and labor, and probably not the High King's.”

O'Neill turned away from the window. “You think the Goa'uld built this place?”

“Had it built, maybe,” Daniel Jackson said. “The construction techniques aren't Goa'uld, and so far we haven't seen much evidence of Goa'uld technology.”

“I think there's some kind of artificial ventilation system in these tunnels,” Major Carter said. “Did you hear that hum? They've got fans running somewhere. But that could fit the local level of technology. We're probably looking at steam engines running on coal gas or some other kind of mineral-based fuel.”

“What was so interesting about all those paintings?” O'Neill asked.

Daniel Jackson shrugged. “The paintings themselves, not as much, but the inscriptions do suggest some connection to the Caananites on Earth. That doesn't necessarily mean anything about who rules here now, but if I had to guess, I'd say it's a pretty good bet these people were brought here by one of the Goa'uld who ruled in that region.”

“Who were?” O'Neill said, sounding as though his patience with speculation that wasn't immediately useful was wearing thin. Teal'c had often observed that Daniel Jackson's definition of
interesting
did not always coincide with that used by O'Neill.

“Well, we don't really know for sure. Teal'c, do you know anything about a Goa'uld called… well, probably Ba'al, and possibly… Dagon, Anat, maybe Athtart or Asherah?”

“Ba'al was an underlord of Ra, now a system lord in his own right,” Teal'c said. “I do not believe this world falls within his territory. The others I do not know.”

“Some of the imagery, though, the woman standing on a lion
—
I think we're probably dealing with a goddess, not a god.”

“Another Goa'uld queen?” O'Neill sounded less than enthusiastic. “That could be a problem.”

“I hear you, believe me, but it doesn't sound like their goddess is likely to drop in. Anyway, she's probably not actually a queen in the sense that Hathor was, just a Goa'uld who prefers female hosts and playing the role of a goddess.”

“There are many minor Goa'uld,” Teal'c said. “I have heard nothing of this world before, but I do not believe it is within the territory of one of the System Lords.”

The door to the corridor opened, revealing a plump man in a crimson wool robe. “I am Walat, minister of trade,” he said. “It's an honor to meet the Tau'ri.”

“We're pleased to meet you, too,” O'Neill said after a moment. “You've heard of us, then?”

“Let us be frank,” Walat said, settling onto a bench at the end of the table as if he spent a lot of time there. “We know that you have set yourselves in rebellion against the gods. We have heard many stories of your battles against them.”

O'Neill glanced at Teal'c. “That'd be true,” he said.

Walat shrugged one shoulder. “We are still interested in trading with you. After all, the Queen of Heaven is far away, is she not, and does not interest herself in the details of our business arrangements.” He glanced heavenward on the words, as if repeating a truism.

“You tell us,” Daniel Jackson said cautiously. “We'd be interested in trade, but not if it's going to cause problems for your people.”