SG1-15 The Power Behind the Throne (20 page)

He had a scientist’s curiosity and a murderer’s cruelty to go with it.

Things occurred to Kelkus that just would never have crossed the mind of any dozen of Corvus Keen’s supposed ‘great minds’. It was men like Kelkus who discovered the true potential of the world for pain — who found black powder and turned it into guns; who split the atoms and turned that genius into bombs that shredded skin and melted flesh; who took weed killer and turned it into flesh-eating poison; who sought to propagate a universal language across the globe and turned it into a means of spying on each and every man woman and child hooked up to their machine. Kelkus was one of these geniuses worlds could happily live without.

That was why he had seen to it that Kelkus was placed in charge of the Rabelais Facility.

Under the mask of proving divergent evolution, Kelkus had taken it upon himself to go so much further than Keen or any of his kind could have imagined. His fascination began when the first twins were brought for him to experiment on. Iblis had watched with delight as the man began with blind tests, flash cards and such meant to prove the existence of a telepathic link. Only as pain was introduced into the equation did the girls begin predicting each other’s cards. It was fascinating to think that pain might somehow open the mind, make it more receptive, but as Kelkus went on to show, the greater the pain the less the accuracy in prediction became. There was a fine balance where the hurt was conducive to the link, but beneath that threshold or beyond it, it was useless. Of course, reading flash cards was hardly the summit of the man’s ambition. If they could link minds, could they share pains? Cut off a finger, did the sister suffer ghost pains, that sort of thing? There was no end to the man’s ingenuity when it came to pain.

“Are the survivors ready for inspection?”

Kelkus nodded.

“Good. Good. How many?”

“Of the ninety Kelani released into the maze only thirty made it out. Most curiously, one, a black skinned man bearing an ugly tribal tattoo on his forehead, succeeded in killing seven of the hounds. He rescued four of the others before we prevented him from going back into the maze. It would not do to have all of the Great Keen’s hounds put down by a single slave.”

“No. I trust he has been dealt with?”

“Oh yes, my lord Iblis. He is in no fit state to offer any resistance.”

“Good. I want him kept away from the others; especially those he rescued. Take him to Rabelais with you when you leave. He is dangerous, Kelkus. More dangerous than any man you have ever encountered.”

“Is he one of your kind, master?” the man said, almost reverentially.

“No. He is not a god.” Iblis thought about it for a moment. “You might consider him an angel of sorts, if you have room for such things in your philosophy. The ideal best describes what he is: a vengeful warrior of his god.”
Or was,
Iblis mused, considering the Jaffa’s fall. It was peculiar and wrong to see such a great warrior stand side by side with the vermin of the Tau’ri. If ever there were a ‘lesser’ species it was that human
animal. Let Keen play his games of segregating rat from mouse
from vole, as far as Iblis was concerned they were all vermin whether they were called Corvani, Kelani or Tau’ri.

“As I am to you, Iblis.”

The juxtaposition of the assertion against the spoken word and the silent thought made the Goa’uld smile. Such a simple statement, so filled with devotion, and so absolutely true on both levels. “Indeed, as you are to me, Kelkus.”

“I shall enjoy cleaving the wings from this angel personally, master. Thou shalt worship no other gods,” the scientist said with an utterly straight face. “He shall pay for his blasphemy.”

“That is as it should be. Tell me, Kelkus, how go your experiments? I am eager to hear of some successes to appease the Great Keen’s restlessness.”

“Ah,” the scientist said, wringing his hands together as though washing the filth of the Kelani out of them with lye. “There is so much to tell, master. So much.”

“Then tell me, Kelkus. Share your genius with me. It would please me greatly to hear of your successes.”

“Yes, yes, of course, my lord. Of course. I do not know what, precisely, you know of the Facility and how I have divided its operations?”

“I know enough, believe me.”

“Good, yes, of course. The Kelani are sorted by age and sex as they arrive. At first we were not interested in the women or the young, so they were sent for treatment.” That was the scientist’s euphemism for being disposed of. It was rather interesting the way his mind rationalized the slaughter, turning it into simply another function of his studies. “The men we divided according to age and body type, endomorphic, ectomorphic and mesomorphic, to better study the effects of certain things. The unique specimens are sorted out, the twins, the midgets, those with startling genetic differences are sent to the experimental blocks. There is much to be learned. We have performed a number of live autopsies, for instance, studying the effects of stress and pain on the heart. One thing of interest, given the nature of the world, is the effect of extremes on the body — of heat and cold. Did you know a body can be chilled into unconsciousness and then revived by warmth? No? That is interesting, no?”

“Fascinating, I am sure,” Iblis agreed.

“The average body temperature is thirty-seven degrees. Kelani only seem to die when their body temperature is reduced to around twenty-five. That is a drop of twelve degrees.”

“That does not seem overly much,” Iblis agreed. “It would suggest that these humans freeze to death rather easily. That may well be something worth remembering, Kelkus.”

“Thank you, master. I believed it would prove an interesting fact. Curiously, the temperature also affects a woman’s ability to ovulate. This was not something we had originally considered, but it has helped us greatly to develop a technology that effectively renders the Kelani sterile.”

“Oh, Keen will be pleased,” Iblis said, barely masking his distaste for the notion.

“This of course has opened many other avenues of investigation — for instance, it set me to wondering if we are superior, are we actually perfect, or are there perfections that can be refined?”

“What do you mean?” Iblis asked, but he knew all too well what the scientist meant. He could see the light of madness in the man’s eyes.

“If one is to assume that there is a blueprint encoded in our flesh, something that separates Corvani from Kelani, is that blueprint complete and perfect, or are there still impurities? After all, if a Kelani woman ruts with a Corvani male, what of their offspring? She merely provides the egg, it is the Corvani seed that fertilizes it, so is the genetic purity of the species diminished or can the stronger Corvani genetic encoding override the impurities and prevail?”

“So tell me, can it?” Iblis knew of the room in Rabelais that Kelkus had set up with its women and children subjected to endless tests and experiments before inevitably their tiny innocent bodies failed them. Neither Keen nor Kelkus cared, obviously, because as half-breeds they were less than human. The sickness of the human monster was endlessly fascinating to Iblis. With them he could create an army of demons far more lethal than anything the System Lords could harness. If only they understood the human race’s capacity for cruelty…

“No. The genetic coding does not appear to work that way.”

“A pity.”

“Indeed, but other studies have proven that it is possible to alter the general coding before birth.”

“Truly? That is fascinating. Are you saying you have the key to weed out the weak from the strong, the clever from the retarded?”

“That would be something, would it not?”

“Indeed. So do you have that knowledge?”

“Not yet, but to my understanding this genetic code is rather like a set of building blocks. We are coming to understand what makes a person’s eyes blue or their hair brown, and as we do so, we can refine the process of winnowing out the undesirables.”

“Keen will be pleased.”

“But are you, master?” the scientist asked, desperate for his god’s approval. Iblis smiled indulgently.

“More than you could possibly imagine. You are indeed worthy of being called my disciple, Kelkus. When I rise up and take my position at the forefront of this society and reshape it in my image there will be a seat for you at my right hand.”

“You honor me, my lord.”

“Yes, I do.”

“And what of your failures?”

“Those that do not fit the ideal can be cleansed easily
enough,” the scientist said with such detachment it sent a thrill
of delight the length of the Goa’uld’s spine. “At the moment we are investigating the possibility that the secret might actually be in the blood itself, not in the flesh at all.”

“An interesting extrapolation of the facts,” Iblis said. It wasn’t, it was a dullard’s way of thinking but he had no intention of dampening his disciple’s enthusiasm for the task at hand.

“Thank you, master. I am glad you approve. It is vital that we collect living data. Only so much can be learned from the dead.”

“Indeed. I trust you will use all of your resourcefulness on this fallen angel that has wandered into our midst.”

“Oh most certainly, master. I am sure there is much that can be learned from his living tissue.”

“I am sure there is,” Iblis agreed. “I shall report the good news to the Great Keen, I trust it shall improve his humor. You have done well, Kelkus.”

“Thank you, my lord god Iblis.”

Iblis walked away, then stopped at the doorway, his hand on the huge iron handle. He appeared to think for a moment, and then turned. “Tell me,” Iblis said, making it seem almost an afterthought, “do the Corvani respond to your experiments in the same manner? Does the cold render them unconscious, for instance?”

“We have not carried out any experiments upon the Corvani, master.”

“Ah, but perhaps you should? In the name of science and understanding, of course. What better way would there be to prove Corvani superiority than to demonstrate it empirically?”

Kelkus nodded emphatically. “Yes, yes, of course. Of course. It shall be as you suggest, master.” His eyes lit up with obvious glee. “For every experiment we carry out upon the Kelani, we shall duplicate it on a Corvani test case.”

“As it should be,” Iblis said. “I look forward to learning more of your results, Kelkus.” He closed the door behind him.

They were surrounded on all sides by thousands upon thousands of terrified Kelani being herded like cattle. Indeed, the analogy was distressingly appropriate, Daniel thought, seeing another black and silver clad soldier walk forward and taser a frightened woman. There was something utterly reprehensible about the man’s calm. Daniel bristled but before he could do anything stupid O’Neill rested a steadying hand on his shoulder.

“Pick your fights, Daniel.”

Daniel wanted to argue but there was absolutely no point, O’Neill was right.

There was something soulless about the Kelani. It was as though every last ounce of spirit and resistance had been stripped from them. They milled about like ghosts consigned to Purgatory. Beside him a young girl clawed at her father’s arm. She had cried all the tears she had inside her. She wasn’t even afraid, she was just hungry. He could see it in her bones as they pressed out through her skin. Her father drew her close to his side as though he could somehow absorb her so that she need not suffer any more than she already had. It was a tender moment in a crowd of desperation. People pushed and shoved, but without any real spirit. The fight had been leeched out of them.

He had talked to a few families, their stories had all been the same. The Raven Guard had come at night and dragged them out of their beds. It was all about fear. Come in the dark, batter down the doors, use fire and noise and anything else at their disposal to instill fear. Nothing broke the spirit as effectively as the unknown — and that was what they had been subjected to. They stumbled into the streets, frightened and disorientated, clinging to each other. Family became the only thing they could hold on to as more and more of the Kelani were dragged into the streets, branded filth, spat at and beaten. It was almost a science, intimidation and hate. It was all about striking hard and fast, not giving the people time to understand what was happening to them. Inevitably some of the Kelani must have died from the beatings, and not only by accident as the Raven Guard flexed their muscles.

It was every bit as effective as heads on spikes and other medieval tortures — it worked the same way, after all. Fear.

And now they were here, huddled up in their familial groups, the fear no less dulled for the hours they had been forced to sit and wait, not knowing if they were going to be separated and given all the time in the world for the reality of their situation to sink in.

They were never going home again.

Daniel listened sickly as one father told a story of the last few months in the city that broke his heart. It had started with the simplest of discriminations, children in the classrooms segregated according to race, the Kelani picked out for ‘special classes’. This had moved into other sectors of life until Kelani men were being sent home from work suddenly surplus to requirements and women on their way to market were being sworn at and spat on for being filthy. None of it made any sense to the man but it made far too much sense to Daniel. He could imagine the diagrams on the classroom walls showing the difference between the shape of a Kelani skull and a Corvani one and the lists of measurements about eye placement and shape of nose and all of these other spurious differences. The evils of man repeated themselves from planet to planet, they dressed themselves in different colors and sported different flags and badges, but they were all the same when stripped down to basic evils.