Currentpast 8
Sodan Homeworld
Milky Way Galaxy
August 1880
Silence hung heavy in the mist-shrouded woods, broken only by the muffled tread of boots on the damp forest floor. The majority of the squad were Colonial Marines, with half being xeno-brids. With their black, faceless helmets, their silhouettes resembled those of their deadly, non-sapient ancestors, broken only by the weapons they carried and bits of equipment hanging on their person. Pulse rifles and smart guns at the ready, they scanned the fog for any sign of movement.
They were on the lookout for the native Jaffa population, who were known to use cloaking devices, rendering them invisible to the naked eye.
Two members of the squad were not Marines, but Tok’ra. One was Malek, the other was Reldar of Vithone.
Reldar was not Tok’ra by birth – he had defected to the Tok’ra on Vithone, hence his name. He was, in fact, an Ashrak, one of the few who had switched sides, and the only one who made the journey back in time. His story was rather simple, yet complicated, because he had joined the Tok’ra not out of principle, but out of a desire to kill his fellow Goa’uld.
There was no particular reason for this that Reldar could pinpoint. It was just something he discovered upon his maturation, something that had led him towards the path of the Ashrak. Perhaps it was caused by or caused his disdain for the hedonism and generally unproductive cruelty of other Goa’uld, but whatever the cause, it motivated him to take more and more missions. Eventually, he built himself some renown amongst those who paid attention to the ranks of the Ashrak, and Ra himself had contracted Reldar’s services. Not just to kill his enemies, but also train his most elite bodyguards.
The experience of being a teacher and mentor had been surprisingly satisfying in ways far different than killing Goa’uld, but Reldar had no delusions about his nature. After his contract with Ra ended, he had praised and thanked the Supreme System Lord for his generosity, rejecting an offer of a landhold on one of Ra’s worlds in the process, then returned to the life of an Ashrak. Killing Goa’uld was far more important and far less boring than a life of luxury and being tended to by slaves.
Eventually, Reldar took a contract from a particularly odious underling of the Goa’uld Mot, who would later be defeated by SG-1, to track and capture an agent of the Tok’ra. He took the opportunity to defect in as public a manner as possible, killing the Goa’uld during the presentation of the “captured” Tok’ra agent. In fact, the bewildered expression of said Goa’uld when Reldar threw a knife that severed the spines of the host and symbiote was one of his most satisfying kills.
In the service of the Tok’ra, he not only assassinated various Goa’uld, but trained many of those serving as security or Ashraks. But when the wars against the Goa’uld and Ori ended, there was little need for his services and skills. So when his fellow Tok’ra approached him about the plot to save Egeria, Reldar joined for the opportunity to kill more Goa’uld as much as the promises that he would train an elite force to protect Egeria.
Sodan Homeworld
Milky Way Galaxy
August 1880
Silence hung heavy in the mist-shrouded woods, broken only by the muffled tread of boots on the damp forest floor. The majority of the squad were Colonial Marines, with half being xeno-brids. With their black, faceless helmets, their silhouettes resembled those of their deadly, non-sapient ancestors, broken only by the weapons they carried and bits of equipment hanging on their person. Pulse rifles and smart guns at the ready, they scanned the fog for any sign of movement.
They were on the lookout for the native Jaffa population, who were known to use cloaking devices, rendering them invisible to the naked eye.
Two members of the squad were not Marines, but Tok’ra. One was Malek, the other was Reldar of Vithone.
Reldar was not Tok’ra by birth – he had defected to the Tok’ra on Vithone, hence his name. He was, in fact, an Ashrak, one of the few who had switched sides, and the only one who made the journey back in time. His story was rather simple, yet complicated, because he had joined the Tok’ra not out of principle, but out of a desire to kill his fellow Goa’uld.
There was no particular reason for this that Reldar could pinpoint. It was just something he discovered upon his maturation, something that had led him towards the path of the Ashrak. Perhaps it was caused by or caused his disdain for the hedonism and generally unproductive cruelty of other Goa’uld, but whatever the cause, it motivated him to take more and more missions. Eventually, he built himself some renown amongst those who paid attention to the ranks of the Ashrak, and Ra himself had contracted Reldar’s services. Not just to kill his enemies, but also train his most elite bodyguards.
The experience of being a teacher and mentor had been surprisingly satisfying in ways far different than killing Goa’uld, but Reldar had no delusions about his nature. After his contract with Ra ended, he had praised and thanked the Supreme System Lord for his generosity, rejecting an offer of a landhold on one of Ra’s worlds in the process, then returned to the life of an Ashrak. Killing Goa’uld was far more important and far less boring than a life of luxury and being tended to by slaves.
Eventually, Reldar took a contract from a particularly odious underling of the Goa’uld Mot, who would later be defeated by SG-1, to track and capture an agent of the Tok’ra. He took the opportunity to defect in as public a manner as possible, killing the Goa’uld during the presentation of the “captured” Tok’ra agent. In fact, the bewildered expression of said Goa’uld when Reldar threw a knife that severed the spines of the host and symbiote was one of his most satisfying kills.
In the service of the Tok’ra, he not only assassinated various Goa’uld, but trained many of those serving as security or Ashraks. But when the wars against the Goa’uld and Ori ended, there was little need for his services and skills. So when his fellow Tok’ra approached him about the plot to save Egeria, Reldar joined for the opportunity to kill more Goa’uld as much as the promises that he would train an elite force to protect Egeria.
Over the past several weeks, he had observed the Tok’ra’s new allies, keeping a close eye on the xeno-brids in particular. He wanted their measure, but since friendly sparring could only provide so much information, he took advantage of any situation that could provide him insights into their minds and behavior. Once, he detained some of the unruly children running around the ruins on Pangar, in order to force their parents to come to him. That resulted in several angry women and annoyed men coming to see him, all of whom accepted his explanations for why he kept their children there and why they couldn’t have the children run through that part of the site.
After that, he observed them in various hunts and drills, learning how they fought and moved in general. And while he couldn’t confirm or rule out any potential mental powers, he could tell that they would be fearsome melee combatants. He also knew that they didn’t seem to display or experience fear. The closest thing he could ascribe to them was sullen, murderous resentment, where they would sulk away and look for a new opportunity to strike later.
“There’s something out here,” the Marine leader said, a xeno-brid with ribs on the mesoskeleton covering the back of her skull. “More than a few somethings. What do the motion trackers say?”
“Intermittent readings, Cap,” one of the men said, this one being a dark skinned male who operated a militarized version of the quad-copter drones that the Tau’ri had started selling a few years ago. This Marine was called a CommTech or Tekker by his comrades, so Reldar believed he was supposed to be the technical expert of the squad. “Might be catching these guys brushing past foliage, but nothing solid.”
“Nothing on thermals?” The xeno-brid asked another subordinate, who had boxy contraption mounted up on an arm that lifted it up over his left shoulder.
“Nothing so far, ma’am, but that tracks if the Tok’ra are right about these cloaks punting these guys into another dimension. All emissions from their bodies would radiate there.”
The xeno-brid held up the hand signal to halt and hold position, and the squad came to a halt.
“Malek, do you think verbally challenging the Sodan would get us anywhere?”
The other Tok’ra, whom Reldar was perfectly happy to dump all the onerous diplomatic and command responsibilities onto, frowned as he looked over the foggy woods. “It would cost us nothing if your instincts are wrong.” Malek waited a few seconds, then shouted, “Warriors of the Sodan! We come in peace to speak with your leaders!”
There was no reply for a good minute, then Reldar sensed the presence of someone behind them. He and the xeno-brids turned to find a Jaffa whose distant ancestors were of Mongolian extraction, holding one of the Sodan’s slightly shortened staff weapons in a ready stance.
“I am Batu of the Sodan,” the Jaffa announced. Reldar noted the streaks of gray in his shoulder length black hair, and pegged him at around 120 years old or so. “Give me one reason why I should not cut you down where you stand.”
“Because we are enemies of the Goa’uld and wish to join forces with you.”
Batu did not change his stance, but he relaxed a fraction. “I sense the presence of Goa’uld in you,” he said to Malek. “And the presence of those orac in your party does nothing to convince me of your sincerity.”
“Reldar and I are of the Tok’ra – we have separated ourselves from the Goa’uld, as you have from the rest of the Jaffa,” Malek explained, gesturing at himself and the Ashrak. “As for them,” he waved a hand towards the xeno-brids, “that is a long story, but we are all looking to work from the shadows to hasten the end of the Goa’uld.”
“We have heard rumors of rebel Goa’uld who renounce the mantle of false godhood,” Batu admitted, looking the two of them over. “But we have never encountered them, nor have we sought them out.”
“To the galaxy at large, the Sodan are nothing but a legend,” was Malek’s reply. “Reldar and I are exceptions, because we are from a future where the Goa’uld have been defeated and your world was discovered before it was wiped out by an enemy greater than the Goa’uld.”
Snorting in derision, the old Jaffa’s voice took on a venomous tone. “Do you take me for a fool? Why should I believe such a preposterous story?”
“Because it would explain how we know facts that no outsider should,” Malek said in his most reasonable tone. “Such as your customs of kel shak lo and shel mak assah, and of your invisibility devices.”
This finally shook the old Jaffa, but only for a moment. “You do realize that you have sealed your fates, do you not? We cannot afford to allow any who know those things and are not Sodan to live.”
“That will not be necessary,” Malek asserted, “for we too are living in the shadows.”
After mulling that over for a few seconds, Batu called out, “Jaffa!”
More Sodan stepped out of the fog, their staffs held at the ready.
“This matter is for Lord Dul’vor,” Batu announced. “We shall take these outsiders to the main village… once they have surrendered their arms.”
Both Tok’ra looked over at the Marines, who grimaced.
“Might be a better idea for us to stay behind, Captain” one of the Marine smart gunners pointed out. “It’s a pain to get in and out of these rigs, and if these guys aren’t careful, they might screw up the calibration.”
“Would that be acceptable?” the xeno-brid captain asked, the sound of a woman’s voice from such an overtly inhuman creature turning many Jaffa heads.
Batu gave a sharp nod and detailed four of his warriors to remain with the two Marines and the pile of weapons, which included pulse rifles, shotguns, and flamers. Reldar placed his zat’nik’tel and the two large blades that had hung on his belt on the pile, but retained a variety of concealed weapons on his person. If the Sodan were not reasonable, then they would likely be needed to fight their way out of the village, or at least die trying.
The Ashrak offered no resistance as the Sodan brusquely herded them towards the Ancient transporter obelisk, which resembled a bunch of tall stone boxes pressed together, topped by a stretched pyramid box. The Jaffa manipulated the controls, transporting the group from where the stargate was, past a mountain range, to where the Sodan main village was. At this point, escape was an impossibility – they lacked landmarks and other navigational aids, never mind the supplies, to make the long, cross country trek back to the stargate.
When they arrived, the village was much as he had read in the few reports obtained from the Tau’ri. It was mostly a few wooden huts in a clearing, with a circular arena in the center, as well as wooden gates consisting of two pillars and a beam and numerous flags along the path to village and around the arena. In contrast to when SG-1 discovered them, the wood looked aged and worn, clearly battered by the elements. However, Reldar spotted organized piles of wood at the fringes of the village, suggesting that the inhabitants were planning to rebuild the structures in the near future.
Batu led them into the arena, which was overlooked by the leader’s hut, and called out to the Sodan leader. After a minute, a bald Jaffa of dark complexion and a scar along his right cheek bone emerged from the structure, standing on the balcony overlooking the arena and casting a pitiless gaze upon those within it. “Batu, my old friend. Explain why these outsiders stand before me, instead of having been driven off our world or cut down where they stood.”
“My lord, these are warriors against the Goa’uld who wish to become confederates with us,” the grizzled Jaffa informed him. “They have some knowledge of our ways, and have behaved honorably thus far, so I have granted them this opportunity to prove themselves worthy.”
Dul’vor gave a sharp nod of acceptance. “Well argued. It costs us nothing to listen to their words.” He looked over the group. “Who would speak for you?”
Once again, Malek stepped forward and began speaking, allowing Reldar to focus his perceptions on their surroundings. The women and children of the village were clearly unnerved by the xeno-brids, whose faceless armor blended seamlessly with the biomechanical aspects of their biology. He had no doubt that if they put their minds to it, they could easily hunt down the villagers, with the only real difficulty being the Sodan warriors and their invisibility bracelets.
Reldar could also feel the eyes of Dul’vor sweeping over them, judging what he saw as Malek made his pitch to the Sodan leader. The Ashrak was certain that he and xeno-brids would be the biggest mysteries to the Jaffa warrior – Reldar for how plain he made himself seem, and the xeno-brids for how alien they were. Already, he was thinking of ways to turn that to their advantage should an opportunity arise.
Malek’s speech came to an end, and for a good minute, the leader of the Sodan said nothing. Turning his head a fraction, he addressed Reldar directly. “What is your role?”
Stepping forward, Reldar announced himself. “I am a warrior, an Ashrak who has hunted Goa’uld on their worlds, in their most secure strongholds and prevailed.”
He locked eyes with the Sodan warrior and after a few moments, Dul’vor nodded. “I once faced an Ashrak when I was an arrogant youth,” the Jaffa announced, and Reldar glanced at the scar on his face. “Those who claim the title are not to be discounted… should they prove that they have the skills.”
“I would be honored to give you a demonstration,” the Ashrak replied with a bow.
“Perhaps later.” The gaze of the Sodan leader moved over to the Marines, at least the men. “These have the look of warriors, and perhaps the mettle as well.” Then his eyes fell upon the xeno-brids. “But I will not fight with faceless orac that may be nothing more than animals.”
“Perhaps a demonstration could be arranged,” Reldar smoothly cut in. “I am sure our associates would be more than happy to show their prowess… and their honor.”
Captain Ceri Vilja Hoefler chuckled inside the faceless helmet she wore.
She was well aware of Reldar’s subtle probing of their abilities. Having been educated on the finest blend of military, historical, and scientific knowledge her creators could synthesize, she understood that this was normal behavior between factions in uneasy alliances. So she did not find it particularly offensive that he “volunteered” them to beat up on some Jaffa, especially when she was curious about how strong they really were.
She stepped forward towards the hut of the Sodan leader. “I’ll be happy to take on your best.”
Dul’vor couldn’t hide the sharp jerk backwards in surprise when he heard her voice, and Hoefler followed it up with an intimidation tactic learned from survivors of the infamous interstellar hunters known as the Yautja. She disconnected a pair of tubes running from the back of the faceplate to a small rebreather pack on her back, then pulled her faceplate off and handed it off to one of her Marines. Crinkling her nose at the smells of a medieval village, she gave head a small shake, setting her purple hair free. She locked her yellow eyes on Dul’vor, who was of the same complexion as her, and grinned.
The Sodan leader muttered some kind of curse, then said, “Monstrosity you may be, but you at least have some honor. If you are as capable as you claim, there may be merit to an alliance.” He shifted his gaze towards the crowds of Sodan watching. “Who has the courage to face her in the arena?”
As Hoefler’s subordinates unbuckled and pulled her torso armor off, a Jaffa of Caucasian descent, with short, dark hair stepped forward. If he’d been human, she would’ve pegged him as early-to-mid twenties at most. “I, Ondak, will take on the challenge.”
Given the way the Jaffa were nodding and murmuring amongst themselves, this Ondak probably had a good fighting record. He certainly had the build of a fighter, but that was true of all the Jaffa she'd seen so far.
“The rules of the contest?” Dul’vor asked.
“No blows to the face, no killing or crippling blows,” Reldar interjected himself into the situation again, shouting so all could hear him. “The first to concede or be knocked unconscious is the loser. This is to ensure the safety and honor of both participants.”
Hoefler nodded as she stretched, feeling the full range of motion she possessed, now that that she was unencumbered by her body armor. The only thing protecting her torso was a sweat wicking black T-shirt and whatever bits of mesoskeleton poked out of her more human skin, which provided decent reinforcement of her collar bone, sternum, and ribs. Her forearms and legs from the knees down were also covered in mesoskeleton, with her hands being the softest part. There was a decent chance that Ondak would take some damage himself if and when he struck those areas, but her upper arms, thighs, and stomach were less protected, and therefore a big weakness.
Her Marines said words of encouragement as they cleared out of the arena, which Hoefler nodded at, but her senses were already focused on Ondak, who stepped into the circle without word or expression. This allowed her to get a good sense of the psionic signature of the Jaffa, which was an odd, discordant thing compared to that of a human. She supposed it was due to the presence of a Goa'uld symbiote, an organism with its own mind, in the torso of the Jaffa.
For a brief second, she wondered how the competition for space worked in a pregnant Jaffa, but decided that could wait for later.
After about a minute, Dul’vor simply said, “Begin.”
The combatants approached the center of the arena, but there was no friendly touching of fists. Instead, they immediately began circling each other, watching every small move for a sign of a coming strike. Hoefler was starting with Krav Maga, a fighting style that leveraged natural instincts to make a combatant an effective fighter. It did mean that she was using a more defensive, reactive style, but since she had no idea how the Sodan fought, she had no issues with that.
She dodged a few exploratory punches and kicks, then deflected a punch and tried for a calf kick. That missed, but her follow up tail whip slapped into his left calf with an audible thwack. Ondak’s stoic façade cracked for a second, but the grimace was off his face as fast as it arrived. He tried to sweep her legs out from under her with a kick, which she jumped over, opening her up to a barrage of punches that pushed her close to edge of the arena.
A tail sweep kept the Jaffa from pressing the advantage, allowing Hoefler to get into a turning battle with Ondak for a good half minute. The two traded a set of punches and kicks that either missed or didn’t make full contact on account of some last minute dodging, before pulling away and circling again. This time, she pressed the attack, switching to a boxing stance and using a right-left jab combination to set him up for another tail sweep calf hit.
As the back and forth continued, Hoefler found herself in a conundrum. She could possibly win the fight with a good tail strike on Ondak’s head, using the flat of the blade, but that might be considered a breach of the rules… or at least perceived to be. And since the whole point of this was to earn the respect of the Sodan, relying on technicalities was probably not a good idea.
After another inconclusive exchange of blows that caused her to roll, Lord Dul’vor spoke. “Enough.”
By this point, the two combatants were breathing faster, although neither one was particularly winded. Ondak straightened and gave her a bow from the waist, which she returned while side-eying the Sodan leader. When he nodded in approval, she allowed herself to relax, even as Reldar nodded in satisfaction at the show she put on.
“You have proven your mettle,” leader of the Sodan announced to the crowd. “You have yet to prove you can be trusted, but you have the heart and honor of a warrior. For that, I am willing to hear your proposal.”
Stepping out of the arena, she allowed her subordinates to help her back into her armor, opting to hook her facemask to her belt as she followed the two Tok’ra up the path to Dul’vor’s hut. The inside of the small structure was surprisingly open, with weapons decorating one wall, some hanging lanterns, and various bits of furniture necessary for storing what few personal items the Sodan leader had. Considering that she’d been living in a tent, with her children using her as a pillow, for the past few months, the hut looked like a massive improvement in quality of life.
“So, what is it exactly that you want, Malek of the Tok’ra?” Dul’vor asked, “You filled the air with noble words, but one such as you and the Ashrak do not come out into the open unless it is of great import and to your benefit.”
“Two reasons,” Malek replied. “The first is that we have recovered our queen, and have need of Jaffa to ensure that the new generations of Tok’ra who grow up in the shadows mature properly. The second is that we need your assistance to steal manufacturing equipment from Sokar.”
There was a pause as the Sodan leader took it all in. “You certainly do not lack in audacity.” Dul’vor looked at both Tok’ra for a moment. “It was said that Sokar was killed by Ra.”
“Sokar managed to escape and fled into deep space, where he established a throne world that can feed and arm armies the rest of the Goa’uld could not imagine.” Malek sighed. “Worse yet, Anubis is not dead either, and is waiting for the right moment to emerge from the shadows.”
Dul’vor snorted in derision. “Next you will tell me that you have been to Kheb.”
“Neither of us have, but I personally knew people who went to Kheb,” Malek replied. “I do not know the gate address, but I am sure I could find it in our archives.”
“Do not joke about such things,” the Sodan said through gritted teeth, eyes blazing with sudden fury. “The quest for Kheb was what led us here.”
“Malek speaks the truth,” Relnar interjected. “Allies of ours discovered Kheb while pursuing a Harcesis.”
Hoefler had no idea what that meant, but Dul’vor did, whipping his head to face the Tok’ra assassin. Whatever he saw there must have convinced him that they were telling the truth, because he turned around and began pacing. After a minute, he faced the xeno-brid Marine. “I suppose you will tell me that you are somehow of the Ancients.”
“I have no idea what you guys talking about, but that’s because up until a few months ago, I was helping build a city out of a village like this one.” She shrugged and delivered the unvarnished truth. “Honestly, all I know is that we traveled back in time with these guys to help them save their queen from dying.”
Dul’vor stared at her for a solid minute, clearly looking for any sign that she’d been lying. When he realized none would be forthcoming, he turned to the two Tok’ra. “Perhaps you would so kind as to start at the beginning...”
Author's Notes: Real life has been a big pain in the ass, so it's taken me longer than I wanted to get back to this story.
I have gotten about half-way through Aliens: Dark Descent, so I'm pretty familiar with all the classes now, and will be using its classes as the template for Colonial Marine deployments in this story. The main addition is actually having a field officer on the squad, as opposed to them hanging back in the ARC/APC. Also, hoping to get into modding the game, but no guarantees.
The main Sodan village is weirdly obvious in its fresh construction in the SG-1 episodes it shows up in, despite them being there for five thousand years, so I figure they have to replace everything every few years.
After that, he observed them in various hunts and drills, learning how they fought and moved in general. And while he couldn’t confirm or rule out any potential mental powers, he could tell that they would be fearsome melee combatants. He also knew that they didn’t seem to display or experience fear. The closest thing he could ascribe to them was sullen, murderous resentment, where they would sulk away and look for a new opportunity to strike later.
“There’s something out here,” the Marine leader said, a xeno-brid with ribs on the mesoskeleton covering the back of her skull. “More than a few somethings. What do the motion trackers say?”
“Intermittent readings, Cap,” one of the men said, this one being a dark skinned male who operated a militarized version of the quad-copter drones that the Tau’ri had started selling a few years ago. This Marine was called a CommTech or Tekker by his comrades, so Reldar believed he was supposed to be the technical expert of the squad. “Might be catching these guys brushing past foliage, but nothing solid.”
“Nothing on thermals?” The xeno-brid asked another subordinate, who had boxy contraption mounted up on an arm that lifted it up over his left shoulder.
“Nothing so far, ma’am, but that tracks if the Tok’ra are right about these cloaks punting these guys into another dimension. All emissions from their bodies would radiate there.”
The xeno-brid held up the hand signal to halt and hold position, and the squad came to a halt.
“Malek, do you think verbally challenging the Sodan would get us anywhere?”
The other Tok’ra, whom Reldar was perfectly happy to dump all the onerous diplomatic and command responsibilities onto, frowned as he looked over the foggy woods. “It would cost us nothing if your instincts are wrong.” Malek waited a few seconds, then shouted, “Warriors of the Sodan! We come in peace to speak with your leaders!”
There was no reply for a good minute, then Reldar sensed the presence of someone behind them. He and the xeno-brids turned to find a Jaffa whose distant ancestors were of Mongolian extraction, holding one of the Sodan’s slightly shortened staff weapons in a ready stance.
“I am Batu of the Sodan,” the Jaffa announced. Reldar noted the streaks of gray in his shoulder length black hair, and pegged him at around 120 years old or so. “Give me one reason why I should not cut you down where you stand.”
“Because we are enemies of the Goa’uld and wish to join forces with you.”
Batu did not change his stance, but he relaxed a fraction. “I sense the presence of Goa’uld in you,” he said to Malek. “And the presence of those orac in your party does nothing to convince me of your sincerity.”
“Reldar and I are of the Tok’ra – we have separated ourselves from the Goa’uld, as you have from the rest of the Jaffa,” Malek explained, gesturing at himself and the Ashrak. “As for them,” he waved a hand towards the xeno-brids, “that is a long story, but we are all looking to work from the shadows to hasten the end of the Goa’uld.”
“We have heard rumors of rebel Goa’uld who renounce the mantle of false godhood,” Batu admitted, looking the two of them over. “But we have never encountered them, nor have we sought them out.”
“To the galaxy at large, the Sodan are nothing but a legend,” was Malek’s reply. “Reldar and I are exceptions, because we are from a future where the Goa’uld have been defeated and your world was discovered before it was wiped out by an enemy greater than the Goa’uld.”
Snorting in derision, the old Jaffa’s voice took on a venomous tone. “Do you take me for a fool? Why should I believe such a preposterous story?”
“Because it would explain how we know facts that no outsider should,” Malek said in his most reasonable tone. “Such as your customs of kel shak lo and shel mak assah, and of your invisibility devices.”
This finally shook the old Jaffa, but only for a moment. “You do realize that you have sealed your fates, do you not? We cannot afford to allow any who know those things and are not Sodan to live.”
“That will not be necessary,” Malek asserted, “for we too are living in the shadows.”
After mulling that over for a few seconds, Batu called out, “Jaffa!”
More Sodan stepped out of the fog, their staffs held at the ready.
“This matter is for Lord Dul’vor,” Batu announced. “We shall take these outsiders to the main village… once they have surrendered their arms.”
Both Tok’ra looked over at the Marines, who grimaced.
“Might be a better idea for us to stay behind, Captain” one of the Marine smart gunners pointed out. “It’s a pain to get in and out of these rigs, and if these guys aren’t careful, they might screw up the calibration.”
“Would that be acceptable?” the xeno-brid captain asked, the sound of a woman’s voice from such an overtly inhuman creature turning many Jaffa heads.
Batu gave a sharp nod and detailed four of his warriors to remain with the two Marines and the pile of weapons, which included pulse rifles, shotguns, and flamers. Reldar placed his zat’nik’tel and the two large blades that had hung on his belt on the pile, but retained a variety of concealed weapons on his person. If the Sodan were not reasonable, then they would likely be needed to fight their way out of the village, or at least die trying.
The Ashrak offered no resistance as the Sodan brusquely herded them towards the Ancient transporter obelisk, which resembled a bunch of tall stone boxes pressed together, topped by a stretched pyramid box. The Jaffa manipulated the controls, transporting the group from where the stargate was, past a mountain range, to where the Sodan main village was. At this point, escape was an impossibility – they lacked landmarks and other navigational aids, never mind the supplies, to make the long, cross country trek back to the stargate.
When they arrived, the village was much as he had read in the few reports obtained from the Tau’ri. It was mostly a few wooden huts in a clearing, with a circular arena in the center, as well as wooden gates consisting of two pillars and a beam and numerous flags along the path to village and around the arena. In contrast to when SG-1 discovered them, the wood looked aged and worn, clearly battered by the elements. However, Reldar spotted organized piles of wood at the fringes of the village, suggesting that the inhabitants were planning to rebuild the structures in the near future.
Batu led them into the arena, which was overlooked by the leader’s hut, and called out to the Sodan leader. After a minute, a bald Jaffa of dark complexion and a scar along his right cheek bone emerged from the structure, standing on the balcony overlooking the arena and casting a pitiless gaze upon those within it. “Batu, my old friend. Explain why these outsiders stand before me, instead of having been driven off our world or cut down where they stood.”
“My lord, these are warriors against the Goa’uld who wish to become confederates with us,” the grizzled Jaffa informed him. “They have some knowledge of our ways, and have behaved honorably thus far, so I have granted them this opportunity to prove themselves worthy.”
Dul’vor gave a sharp nod of acceptance. “Well argued. It costs us nothing to listen to their words.” He looked over the group. “Who would speak for you?”
Once again, Malek stepped forward and began speaking, allowing Reldar to focus his perceptions on their surroundings. The women and children of the village were clearly unnerved by the xeno-brids, whose faceless armor blended seamlessly with the biomechanical aspects of their biology. He had no doubt that if they put their minds to it, they could easily hunt down the villagers, with the only real difficulty being the Sodan warriors and their invisibility bracelets.
Reldar could also feel the eyes of Dul’vor sweeping over them, judging what he saw as Malek made his pitch to the Sodan leader. The Ashrak was certain that he and xeno-brids would be the biggest mysteries to the Jaffa warrior – Reldar for how plain he made himself seem, and the xeno-brids for how alien they were. Already, he was thinking of ways to turn that to their advantage should an opportunity arise.
Malek’s speech came to an end, and for a good minute, the leader of the Sodan said nothing. Turning his head a fraction, he addressed Reldar directly. “What is your role?”
Stepping forward, Reldar announced himself. “I am a warrior, an Ashrak who has hunted Goa’uld on their worlds, in their most secure strongholds and prevailed.”
He locked eyes with the Sodan warrior and after a few moments, Dul’vor nodded. “I once faced an Ashrak when I was an arrogant youth,” the Jaffa announced, and Reldar glanced at the scar on his face. “Those who claim the title are not to be discounted… should they prove that they have the skills.”
“I would be honored to give you a demonstration,” the Ashrak replied with a bow.
“Perhaps later.” The gaze of the Sodan leader moved over to the Marines, at least the men. “These have the look of warriors, and perhaps the mettle as well.” Then his eyes fell upon the xeno-brids. “But I will not fight with faceless orac that may be nothing more than animals.”
“Perhaps a demonstration could be arranged,” Reldar smoothly cut in. “I am sure our associates would be more than happy to show their prowess… and their honor.”
Captain Ceri Vilja Hoefler chuckled inside the faceless helmet she wore.
She was well aware of Reldar’s subtle probing of their abilities. Having been educated on the finest blend of military, historical, and scientific knowledge her creators could synthesize, she understood that this was normal behavior between factions in uneasy alliances. So she did not find it particularly offensive that he “volunteered” them to beat up on some Jaffa, especially when she was curious about how strong they really were.
She stepped forward towards the hut of the Sodan leader. “I’ll be happy to take on your best.”
Dul’vor couldn’t hide the sharp jerk backwards in surprise when he heard her voice, and Hoefler followed it up with an intimidation tactic learned from survivors of the infamous interstellar hunters known as the Yautja. She disconnected a pair of tubes running from the back of the faceplate to a small rebreather pack on her back, then pulled her faceplate off and handed it off to one of her Marines. Crinkling her nose at the smells of a medieval village, she gave head a small shake, setting her purple hair free. She locked her yellow eyes on Dul’vor, who was of the same complexion as her, and grinned.
The Sodan leader muttered some kind of curse, then said, “Monstrosity you may be, but you at least have some honor. If you are as capable as you claim, there may be merit to an alliance.” He shifted his gaze towards the crowds of Sodan watching. “Who has the courage to face her in the arena?”
As Hoefler’s subordinates unbuckled and pulled her torso armor off, a Jaffa of Caucasian descent, with short, dark hair stepped forward. If he’d been human, she would’ve pegged him as early-to-mid twenties at most. “I, Ondak, will take on the challenge.”
Given the way the Jaffa were nodding and murmuring amongst themselves, this Ondak probably had a good fighting record. He certainly had the build of a fighter, but that was true of all the Jaffa she'd seen so far.
“The rules of the contest?” Dul’vor asked.
“No blows to the face, no killing or crippling blows,” Reldar interjected himself into the situation again, shouting so all could hear him. “The first to concede or be knocked unconscious is the loser. This is to ensure the safety and honor of both participants.”
Hoefler nodded as she stretched, feeling the full range of motion she possessed, now that that she was unencumbered by her body armor. The only thing protecting her torso was a sweat wicking black T-shirt and whatever bits of mesoskeleton poked out of her more human skin, which provided decent reinforcement of her collar bone, sternum, and ribs. Her forearms and legs from the knees down were also covered in mesoskeleton, with her hands being the softest part. There was a decent chance that Ondak would take some damage himself if and when he struck those areas, but her upper arms, thighs, and stomach were less protected, and therefore a big weakness.
Her Marines said words of encouragement as they cleared out of the arena, which Hoefler nodded at, but her senses were already focused on Ondak, who stepped into the circle without word or expression. This allowed her to get a good sense of the psionic signature of the Jaffa, which was an odd, discordant thing compared to that of a human. She supposed it was due to the presence of a Goa'uld symbiote, an organism with its own mind, in the torso of the Jaffa.
For a brief second, she wondered how the competition for space worked in a pregnant Jaffa, but decided that could wait for later.
After about a minute, Dul’vor simply said, “Begin.”
The combatants approached the center of the arena, but there was no friendly touching of fists. Instead, they immediately began circling each other, watching every small move for a sign of a coming strike. Hoefler was starting with Krav Maga, a fighting style that leveraged natural instincts to make a combatant an effective fighter. It did mean that she was using a more defensive, reactive style, but since she had no idea how the Sodan fought, she had no issues with that.
She dodged a few exploratory punches and kicks, then deflected a punch and tried for a calf kick. That missed, but her follow up tail whip slapped into his left calf with an audible thwack. Ondak’s stoic façade cracked for a second, but the grimace was off his face as fast as it arrived. He tried to sweep her legs out from under her with a kick, which she jumped over, opening her up to a barrage of punches that pushed her close to edge of the arena.
A tail sweep kept the Jaffa from pressing the advantage, allowing Hoefler to get into a turning battle with Ondak for a good half minute. The two traded a set of punches and kicks that either missed or didn’t make full contact on account of some last minute dodging, before pulling away and circling again. This time, she pressed the attack, switching to a boxing stance and using a right-left jab combination to set him up for another tail sweep calf hit.
As the back and forth continued, Hoefler found herself in a conundrum. She could possibly win the fight with a good tail strike on Ondak’s head, using the flat of the blade, but that might be considered a breach of the rules… or at least perceived to be. And since the whole point of this was to earn the respect of the Sodan, relying on technicalities was probably not a good idea.
After another inconclusive exchange of blows that caused her to roll, Lord Dul’vor spoke. “Enough.”
By this point, the two combatants were breathing faster, although neither one was particularly winded. Ondak straightened and gave her a bow from the waist, which she returned while side-eying the Sodan leader. When he nodded in approval, she allowed herself to relax, even as Reldar nodded in satisfaction at the show she put on.
“You have proven your mettle,” leader of the Sodan announced to the crowd. “You have yet to prove you can be trusted, but you have the heart and honor of a warrior. For that, I am willing to hear your proposal.”
Stepping out of the arena, she allowed her subordinates to help her back into her armor, opting to hook her facemask to her belt as she followed the two Tok’ra up the path to Dul’vor’s hut. The inside of the small structure was surprisingly open, with weapons decorating one wall, some hanging lanterns, and various bits of furniture necessary for storing what few personal items the Sodan leader had. Considering that she’d been living in a tent, with her children using her as a pillow, for the past few months, the hut looked like a massive improvement in quality of life.
“So, what is it exactly that you want, Malek of the Tok’ra?” Dul’vor asked, “You filled the air with noble words, but one such as you and the Ashrak do not come out into the open unless it is of great import and to your benefit.”
“Two reasons,” Malek replied. “The first is that we have recovered our queen, and have need of Jaffa to ensure that the new generations of Tok’ra who grow up in the shadows mature properly. The second is that we need your assistance to steal manufacturing equipment from Sokar.”
There was a pause as the Sodan leader took it all in. “You certainly do not lack in audacity.” Dul’vor looked at both Tok’ra for a moment. “It was said that Sokar was killed by Ra.”
“Sokar managed to escape and fled into deep space, where he established a throne world that can feed and arm armies the rest of the Goa’uld could not imagine.” Malek sighed. “Worse yet, Anubis is not dead either, and is waiting for the right moment to emerge from the shadows.”
Dul’vor snorted in derision. “Next you will tell me that you have been to Kheb.”
“Neither of us have, but I personally knew people who went to Kheb,” Malek replied. “I do not know the gate address, but I am sure I could find it in our archives.”
“Do not joke about such things,” the Sodan said through gritted teeth, eyes blazing with sudden fury. “The quest for Kheb was what led us here.”
“Malek speaks the truth,” Relnar interjected. “Allies of ours discovered Kheb while pursuing a Harcesis.”
Hoefler had no idea what that meant, but Dul’vor did, whipping his head to face the Tok’ra assassin. Whatever he saw there must have convinced him that they were telling the truth, because he turned around and began pacing. After a minute, he faced the xeno-brid Marine. “I suppose you will tell me that you are somehow of the Ancients.”
“I have no idea what you guys talking about, but that’s because up until a few months ago, I was helping build a city out of a village like this one.” She shrugged and delivered the unvarnished truth. “Honestly, all I know is that we traveled back in time with these guys to help them save their queen from dying.”
Dul’vor stared at her for a solid minute, clearly looking for any sign that she’d been lying. When he realized none would be forthcoming, he turned to the two Tok’ra. “Perhaps you would so kind as to start at the beginning...”
Author's Notes: Real life has been a big pain in the ass, so it's taken me longer than I wanted to get back to this story.
I have gotten about half-way through Aliens: Dark Descent, so I'm pretty familiar with all the classes now, and will be using its classes as the template for Colonial Marine deployments in this story. The main addition is actually having a field officer on the squad, as opposed to them hanging back in the ARC/APC. Also, hoping to get into modding the game, but no guarantees.
The main Sodan village is weirdly obvious in its fresh construction in the SG-1 episodes it shows up in, despite them being there for five thousand years, so I figure they have to replace everything every few years.