Two stories; Stargate SG1; PG
Aug. 22nd, 2010 11:18 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morgynleriFandom: Stargate SG1
AU: Scarred Souls
Rating: PG
Previous Stories: We Are None of Us Gods, I Will Not Run
Title: Leave No One Behind
Characters: Colonel Jack O'Neill, General George Hammond, Major Sam Carter
Jack wanted to stomp down the ramp from the gate as he followed the rest of the rescue team, looking up to meet Hammond's gaze with a grimace. All their preparation and time spent, resources expended in getting the rescue team into position, and they came back empty-handed.
"What happened, Colonel?" Hammond's voice was steady, not betraying any frustration at the failed mission.
"We failed, sir." The words were bitter in his mouth, and there was a hard edge to his voice that was more directed at himself than anyone else. "He got away through the gate before we could subdue him."
Hammond nodded grimly, and nodded towards the waiting medical personnel. "We'll discuss the details at the debriefing, Colonel."
"Yes, sir." Jack grimaced as he followed the rest of his team towards the infirmary, wishing for a moment he could get out of the constant poking and prodding that coming back from a mission entailed. Or better yet, be able to subject Major Davis to the ordeal as well, like had been the plan when coming back this time.
~ ~~ ~
"We weren't able to catch the entire address before the wormhole disconnected, but even a few symbols could narrow it down a little. And if we can cross-reference them with known Goa'uld strongholds, we might be able to find where he went." Sam wasn't particularly hopeful that the goa'uld who'd taken Major Davis would stay where he went, but there was always an outside chance.
"How long do you think that will take, Major?"
Sam grimaced, looking down at the table a brief moment. "A couple of weeks, sir, at least."
"By which point he could be anywhere in the galaxy." Jack scowled, drumming his fingers against the table a moment. There wasn't much they could do now, except wait, and listen for rumors about a tau'ri taken as a host, and where he was.
Hammond echoed his thoughts a moment later, his expression carefully controlled. The rest of the debriefing was short and Jack left as soon as he was dismissed. They'd have some time before the next mission, and he had some episodes of the Simpsons to catch up with.
~ ~~ ~
Each planet they came back from, the news was the same. No one had heard of the goa'uld with a tau'ri for a host. Even the tok'ra didn't have any news, not since he'd escaped their carefully planned rescue. As if the goa'uld had dropped off the face of the galaxy.
Eighteen months with nothing except the creeping doubt that he was still alive, and a shrinking list of planets with the appropriate symbols in the address. Sam had even started going over the list of rejected ones to re-evaluate those not considered goa'uld strongholds.
Jack grimaced as she started to argue for another one that had already been rejected, twice, and interrupted her before she could get more than two words out. "The goa'uld avoid it like they do the planets protected by the Asgard, but it's not on the treaty, and it's not on the Abydos cartouche. Hell, if it hadn't been in my head along with all the rest of the stuff from the Ancients, we wouldn't even know it existed."
"Respectfully, sir, it's still possible. We don't actually know why the goa'uld avoid it, and even if Major Davis isn't there, maybe they have something that will help us fight the goa'uld." Sam had a stubborn expression on her face that warned him she had no intention of backing down, no matter how much he argued with her. The best he might be able to do is have Hammond send a MALP and one of the teams of Marines rather than SG1.
"Fine." He tossed up his hands in exasperation, and turned to head for the door of her lab. "I'll talk to Hammond about sending a team."
Title: Demons Who Regret
Characters: Major Paul Davis, Aisla (OFC)
He'd stayed with the camp since Aisla had brought him back. Learning from her, and the others who stood watches on the gate, how to use the zat'niktel. Or rather reminding himself of scraps of memory of using it. Remembering what it was called, though never quite where he had learned how to use it. A type of memory unaffected by whatever it was that the demon - goa'uld - had done to him.
Other memories continued to evade him, and he tried to ignore the nagging sensation that what he had forgotten was desperately important. He threw himself into learning what they were trying to teach him. Herding the livestock that provided them with wool and milk and meat, never mind that something in the back of his mind insisted they weren't sheep, despite what they were called here. Hunting with the bow that he was steadily becoming more proficient with despite the certainty he'd never handled anything like it before he came here.
Even that didn't keep the frustration of not remembering at bay when it was dark, the camp quieting around him as most people returned to their tents to sleep. Frustration that drove dreams that were half-memory and utterly confusing when he woke up in the middle of the night, panting and covered in sweat.
"You can't force the memories, Paul." Aisla sat on the far side of the fire from him tonight, the empty bowl that he'd served her soup in cradled in her lap. "I know it is frustrating, I have seen it before, but there is nothing you can do to make them come faster, not here."
Paul sighed, toying with his spoon for a moment. "I know. If I could just remember what the address for home was, I might have a chance there, but even that's a mystery."
"Perhaps someone from there is looking for you." She waited until he looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. "You spoke of something you were a part of, of never leaving a comrade behind."
"It was part of a dream. I don't know if it was actual memory, or just wishing I wasn't alone in a strange place." He let a smile cross his face as she snorted. "I know I have friends here, Aisla, but it's not the same. I don't come from this planet, I didn't grow up with the same traditions..."
"I know," she interrupted him, watching him for a moment. "There has been nothing through the gate, and soon we will have to start moving down to the winter pastures."
"Who watches the gate then?"
"During winter?" Aisla laughed, waving a hand to indicate everything around them. "The world itself does that. Winters in the mountains are harsh, even for the demons and their guardians. We once thought to have guards here the year round, but we lost too many to the cold and the wind. We even once found a demon here, it and its host dead, thawing with the snows."
"Why would they put a gate up in the mountains if it kills them when they come through in winter?" Paul gave up fiddling with his spoon, reaching over to take the bowl from her to go rinse both of them with the water from the carry near his tent. "It would make more sense to build something like that down where it's warm year-round."
"The caves between here and the demon's ring aren't the only ones, simply the ones not carved by the hands of those who served the demons before." Aisla prodded the fire, adding another stick to keep it burning. "There may still be more of the ore the demons wished to steal from the planet, but it isn't one which we can work. Nor is it needed for the arrows, or any other thing which we use."
Building near the desired resources, even if it was potentially dangerous. Paul nodded, settling back down to watch the fire. Not ready to go back to bed and face dreams he couldn't remember again. "How did you make them leave?"
"The stories tell of a demon who regretted what he was, and left the mountains to walk the planet alone. He sent his host back many seasons later with the plant that had caused his death, and with the knowledge of how to use it against the demons. The people rose up and destroyed the demons who enslaved them before they followed the former host from the mountains as winter fell. Those he taught how to use the plant became the tribe who return to the mountains every year to ensure the demons never return."
It was a condensed creation story, and Paul felt the tug of memories again, a name floating up from the depths for the one she had called a demon who regretted. "Tok'ra." He shrugged at her curious look. "The demon who regretted what he was. I think."
"The stories don't give his name, nor that of his host." Aisla stirred the fire again.
Paul shook his head. "It's... not an individual name, I think." It struck him as more a name of several, perhaps simply of any of the goa'uld who didn't take the path that enslaved others. "A kind of demon."
Aisla tilted her head, watching him, and shrugging after a moment. "It would be good to know there are other demons out there who regret what they are, but I think I will not hold out hope of their existance."
AU: Scarred Souls
Rating: PG
Previous Stories: We Are None of Us Gods, I Will Not Run
Title: Leave No One Behind
Characters: Colonel Jack O'Neill, General George Hammond, Major Sam Carter
Jack wanted to stomp down the ramp from the gate as he followed the rest of the rescue team, looking up to meet Hammond's gaze with a grimace. All their preparation and time spent, resources expended in getting the rescue team into position, and they came back empty-handed.
"What happened, Colonel?" Hammond's voice was steady, not betraying any frustration at the failed mission.
"We failed, sir." The words were bitter in his mouth, and there was a hard edge to his voice that was more directed at himself than anyone else. "He got away through the gate before we could subdue him."
Hammond nodded grimly, and nodded towards the waiting medical personnel. "We'll discuss the details at the debriefing, Colonel."
"Yes, sir." Jack grimaced as he followed the rest of his team towards the infirmary, wishing for a moment he could get out of the constant poking and prodding that coming back from a mission entailed. Or better yet, be able to subject Major Davis to the ordeal as well, like had been the plan when coming back this time.
"We weren't able to catch the entire address before the wormhole disconnected, but even a few symbols could narrow it down a little. And if we can cross-reference them with known Goa'uld strongholds, we might be able to find where he went." Sam wasn't particularly hopeful that the goa'uld who'd taken Major Davis would stay where he went, but there was always an outside chance.
"How long do you think that will take, Major?"
Sam grimaced, looking down at the table a brief moment. "A couple of weeks, sir, at least."
"By which point he could be anywhere in the galaxy." Jack scowled, drumming his fingers against the table a moment. There wasn't much they could do now, except wait, and listen for rumors about a tau'ri taken as a host, and where he was.
Hammond echoed his thoughts a moment later, his expression carefully controlled. The rest of the debriefing was short and Jack left as soon as he was dismissed. They'd have some time before the next mission, and he had some episodes of the Simpsons to catch up with.
Each planet they came back from, the news was the same. No one had heard of the goa'uld with a tau'ri for a host. Even the tok'ra didn't have any news, not since he'd escaped their carefully planned rescue. As if the goa'uld had dropped off the face of the galaxy.
Eighteen months with nothing except the creeping doubt that he was still alive, and a shrinking list of planets with the appropriate symbols in the address. Sam had even started going over the list of rejected ones to re-evaluate those not considered goa'uld strongholds.
Jack grimaced as she started to argue for another one that had already been rejected, twice, and interrupted her before she could get more than two words out. "The goa'uld avoid it like they do the planets protected by the Asgard, but it's not on the treaty, and it's not on the Abydos cartouche. Hell, if it hadn't been in my head along with all the rest of the stuff from the Ancients, we wouldn't even know it existed."
"Respectfully, sir, it's still possible. We don't actually know why the goa'uld avoid it, and even if Major Davis isn't there, maybe they have something that will help us fight the goa'uld." Sam had a stubborn expression on her face that warned him she had no intention of backing down, no matter how much he argued with her. The best he might be able to do is have Hammond send a MALP and one of the teams of Marines rather than SG1.
"Fine." He tossed up his hands in exasperation, and turned to head for the door of her lab. "I'll talk to Hammond about sending a team."
Title: Demons Who Regret
Characters: Major Paul Davis, Aisla (OFC)
He'd stayed with the camp since Aisla had brought him back. Learning from her, and the others who stood watches on the gate, how to use the zat'niktel. Or rather reminding himself of scraps of memory of using it. Remembering what it was called, though never quite where he had learned how to use it. A type of memory unaffected by whatever it was that the demon - goa'uld - had done to him.
Other memories continued to evade him, and he tried to ignore the nagging sensation that what he had forgotten was desperately important. He threw himself into learning what they were trying to teach him. Herding the livestock that provided them with wool and milk and meat, never mind that something in the back of his mind insisted they weren't sheep, despite what they were called here. Hunting with the bow that he was steadily becoming more proficient with despite the certainty he'd never handled anything like it before he came here.
Even that didn't keep the frustration of not remembering at bay when it was dark, the camp quieting around him as most people returned to their tents to sleep. Frustration that drove dreams that were half-memory and utterly confusing when he woke up in the middle of the night, panting and covered in sweat.
"You can't force the memories, Paul." Aisla sat on the far side of the fire from him tonight, the empty bowl that he'd served her soup in cradled in her lap. "I know it is frustrating, I have seen it before, but there is nothing you can do to make them come faster, not here."
Paul sighed, toying with his spoon for a moment. "I know. If I could just remember what the address for home was, I might have a chance there, but even that's a mystery."
"Perhaps someone from there is looking for you." She waited until he looked up at her, raising an eyebrow. "You spoke of something you were a part of, of never leaving a comrade behind."
"It was part of a dream. I don't know if it was actual memory, or just wishing I wasn't alone in a strange place." He let a smile cross his face as she snorted. "I know I have friends here, Aisla, but it's not the same. I don't come from this planet, I didn't grow up with the same traditions..."
"I know," she interrupted him, watching him for a moment. "There has been nothing through the gate, and soon we will have to start moving down to the winter pastures."
"Who watches the gate then?"
"During winter?" Aisla laughed, waving a hand to indicate everything around them. "The world itself does that. Winters in the mountains are harsh, even for the demons and their guardians. We once thought to have guards here the year round, but we lost too many to the cold and the wind. We even once found a demon here, it and its host dead, thawing with the snows."
"Why would they put a gate up in the mountains if it kills them when they come through in winter?" Paul gave up fiddling with his spoon, reaching over to take the bowl from her to go rinse both of them with the water from the carry near his tent. "It would make more sense to build something like that down where it's warm year-round."
"The caves between here and the demon's ring aren't the only ones, simply the ones not carved by the hands of those who served the demons before." Aisla prodded the fire, adding another stick to keep it burning. "There may still be more of the ore the demons wished to steal from the planet, but it isn't one which we can work. Nor is it needed for the arrows, or any other thing which we use."
Building near the desired resources, even if it was potentially dangerous. Paul nodded, settling back down to watch the fire. Not ready to go back to bed and face dreams he couldn't remember again. "How did you make them leave?"
"The stories tell of a demon who regretted what he was, and left the mountains to walk the planet alone. He sent his host back many seasons later with the plant that had caused his death, and with the knowledge of how to use it against the demons. The people rose up and destroyed the demons who enslaved them before they followed the former host from the mountains as winter fell. Those he taught how to use the plant became the tribe who return to the mountains every year to ensure the demons never return."
It was a condensed creation story, and Paul felt the tug of memories again, a name floating up from the depths for the one she had called a demon who regretted. "Tok'ra." He shrugged at her curious look. "The demon who regretted what he was. I think."
"The stories don't give his name, nor that of his host." Aisla stirred the fire again.
Paul shook his head. "It's... not an individual name, I think." It struck him as more a name of several, perhaps simply of any of the goa'uld who didn't take the path that enslaved others. "A kind of demon."
Aisla tilted her head, watching him, and shrugging after a moment. "It would be good to know there are other demons out there who regret what they are, but I think I will not hold out hope of their existance."