[Fic: SG-1] A is for Ashrak
Jun. 25th, 2012 12:00 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
magibrainTitle: A is for ashrak, Apophis, allegiance, assurance, assassins, ambition, and aim
Author: magistrate (magibrain)
Rating: T.
Genre: Character study
Beta: I'm trying to make a joke here about soullessness. It's not coming together.
Continuity: Canon-compliant.
Prerequisites: Ashraks. Also Apophis.
Summary: Bra'tac is assigned to an extremely odd mission, with an extremely odd companion.
Disclaimer: Stargate and its associated characters are the property of MGM and not Jon Layne Fisher. Thank god. The opinions expressed herein are the properties of the characters and not of Seven Macaw. Issues of loyalty will not be settled via arbitration. Questions, comments and alliteration can be left in replies or directed to magistrata(at)gmail(dot)com. Thank you for reading!
Author's Notes: s;dhf;dhg;disuhg/;eruF;USDGF;DSUFG';JKDG. Also, written for the Bra'tac & Jaffa Alphabet Soup and Gen Fic Day. Check out everything else!
=
An odd silence plagued the Court of Apophis, stifling even the rumors which would have explained why. Bra'tac had been First Prime long enough to distrust such silences, especially when he was summoned out of one to a secret meeting with his lord.
He entered Apophis's throneroom with, as ever, little idea what to expect. What he saw offered little in the way of explanation: Apophis on his throne, expression repulsed and intrigued, and a figure kneeling before him, so motionless as to seem dead.
"Bra'tac," Apophis greeted as Bra'tac bowed. "How fares the battle on the Line of Cabrakan?"
Bra'tac did not allow his curiosity to show. Curiosity was not a trait the Goa'uld valued in their servants. "Well, my lord. Lord Zipacna shows his loyalty to you thrice over in his attempts to take the seven systems. Your own Jaffa have laid down their lives rather than see you lose a single lightminute of your won space."
"Well that they do so," Apophis said. "And well that Zipacna's aim remains true. It is a matter of loyalty for which I have called you forth."
A deep foreboding grew in Bra'tac's chest, but he allowed none of it to touch his face. Matters of loyalty in the court of Apophis generally went rank in file with executions. "My lord?"
Apophis gestured to the figure before him, and for a moment slipped into the higher tongue of court and Ra. "Monthu, long a thorn in our side, has surrendered to us his territories at last," he said. "To escape our wrath, he has offered us a gift to show his eternal loyalty to our being." Then, once again in lower Goa'uld: "An ashrak."
At that, Bra'tac did go stiff.
Ashraks were storied and rarely seen, and there was more rumor than fact circulating about them. It was said that they were spat out of the Stargates, born of the chill between stars. That they ate dead spirits on their way to the afterworld. It was said that the symbiotes they carried were from a lost, primeval bloodline which predated Ra. It was said they were dead already, and thus could not be killed. Bra'tac had more experience of ashraks than most, and even he didn't know all the truth of them.
How a small planetary lordling like Monthu, however clever his resistance had been, had secured the services of an ashrak was beyond Bra'tac. As was the reason he had chosen to make the ashrak a tribute rather than employ him to bring Apophis down.
Carefully, Bratac formed the words: "What do you wish of me?"
Apophis seemed to enjoy Bra'tac's unease. He always had. "I would like you to prove Monthu's sincerity to me."
An odd request. And a dangerous one. Bra'tac allowed his eyebrows to rise. "How may I do so, my lord?"
Apophis gestured over the ashrak. "You may take this hunter and see Monthu dead."
-
They were to leave on a tel'tak and travel to Menouthis, the planet which Monthu had made his throneworld. Menouthis had at one point likely been a habitable world, but historical bombardments had left the skies a choked, dusty grey, and the surface a pitted ruin.
It seemed to suit Monthu, though, as Monthu was completely uninterested in being hospitable.
Although he'd been the target of Apophis' ambitions for years now, and although his forces had rendered stiff resistance to Apophis' fleet, Monthu himself was never seen. His orders came through his First Prime, through untraceable transmissions, through anything except a face-to-face command. His palace had bustled with sub-commanders and priests, but sat atop a system of sensor-scattering tunnels which riddled the entire crust of his world. Even when Monthu had bowed before Apophis and offered his surrender and subservience, he had done so remotely.
Forty-seven ring transporters dotted the caverns of Menouthis, and the ashrak, without explanation, indicated one. He and Bra'tac ringed down into a wide, dark corridor, and began their hunt. The ashrak led.
He walked without recalcitrance or eagerness. Bra'tac followed, ready for battle, but hearing nothing but silence and their own footsteps and breathing. It was a strange, cool affair, and after several corners, Bra'tac said "This is a strange place for a god to hide."
The ashrak surprised him by answering, "Yes."
"The warren of a prey animal."
"Yes."
They walked for a few more strides.
"Does it trouble you to hunt your old master?" Bra'tac asked.
The ashrak blew out breath, like a hunting dog. "I have never been troubled."
"Never?"
"It is not a concern of ashraks."
"Nor excitement?" Bra'tac asked. "Anticipation?"
"He will die. Death does not excite me."
Bra'tac turned his attention away from the halls, for a moment, focusing instead on his companion. He could sense the symbiote within the hunter, but had he not that sense, he would never have taken him for a Goa'uld.
"So. What is your name? Hm?" He studied the ashrak's face. "Do you have a name?"
"I do."
The ashrak said nothing else. Bra'tac rested both hands on his staff weapon. "I am Bra'tac of Chulak. By what name are you known?"
"I am known most frequently by orak," the ashrak said. Abomination. "By name, I am Bakhu."
-
The ashrak seemed to have endless stamina. Bra'tac was nearing his middle age, but even so, he could sustain a march as long as the freshest of young Jaffa. But the ashrak outlasted him, until he was forced to call a halt. How long they'd been in the tunnels, Bra'tac couldn't say.
They settled down in an unremarkable corner, like any number of unremarkable corners before, and Bra'tac wondered how Bakhu knew his way. Or whether he was just wandering, waiting for his Jaffa companion to die, possibly of old age.
Not that Bakhu couldn't kill him, easily, if he'd wanted him dead.
"Do you eat?" Bra'tac asked, and the ashrak stared at him. His eyes were pale, without glint or glow. "No? Drink?"
"When it suits me."
Bra'tac drew his pack from under his cloak, and withdrew a canteen of water and a flat ration. He offered them to Bakhu, but Bakhu didn't move. After a few long seconds, Bra'tac allowed a small hmph to escape his throat. "As it suits you."
He ate, and the ashrak watched him. It was discomfiting. But, on another hand, simply bewildering – here was a Goa'uld, a symbiote-controlled host, sitting and waiting for a lowly Jaffa. This was not the usual order of things.
The Goa'uld had no respect for silence or subservience, and the only loyalty they trusted was that born of fear and the promise of reward. Little wonder that an ashrak like Bakhu endured slurs like orak – he was like as not perverse, in Goa'uld eyes. His very existence was evidence of a corruption in the genetic lines.
And yet, ashraks were capable of feats of endurance and brutality which put First Primes and Goa'uld alike to shame. Bra'tac had seen, now and then, Goa'uld who took to the battlefields with their troops, there to revel in the blood and desperation. He had never seen one half so deadly, or invulnerable, as the stories of a single ashrak.
And now such a killer was crouched before him, eyes hard and unkind but devoid of insult. Bakhu moved with the grace of a hunter, but had not, even kneeling before Apophis, moved to increase his own station.
Bewildering was one word for it.
Bra'tac finished his water and ration, and clipped the pack back under his cloak. "A question, if I may."
Bakhu didn't say he might not.
Bra'tac exhaled. "Where is your loyalty?"
There was no hesitation. Bakhu answered as though the answer was self-evident, like the temperature of the air or the color of the walls. "It has been given to my lord Apophis."
"Even the most trusted underlord retains some loyalty for himself," Bra'tac said.
"I am no underlord," Bakhu replied. "I am an ashrak."
"True," Bra'tac said.
After a moment, while he tried to think of another question and another way to phrase it, he was again surprised when Bakhu spoke. "Where is your loyalty?"
"I am the First Prime of Lord Apophis," Bra'tac said. "Where else could my loyalty lie but with him?"
The ashrak didn't answer, but Bra'tac got the sense that the answer to that question was considered self-evident as well.
"I know where my loyalty lies," Bra'tac said. And if Bakhu had guessed it... what would he do? "But you... you confound me."
The ashrak looked unimpressed.
"To have the power to make the gods tremble," Bra'tac began.
"I am no threat to your lord," Bakhu said. "An ashrak has never turned against the hand that wields it." He turned, then, and the slitted eyes of his helm seemed to single Bra'tac out. "The same has not always been said for Jaffa."
"The Jaffa are the most loyal of all the servant races," Bra'tac said, and was interrupted.
"The Jaffa will rarely rebel," Bakhu said. "The ashrak never will."
"Why is that?" Bra'tac asked.
"Because we are ashrak," Bakhu said. "It is written in our blood." He nodded, as though that had settled matters. "If you must rest, Jaffa, then rest. It is still a ways to the hiding place of Monthu."
-
When Bra'tac roused from kel'no'reem, Bakhu was still watching him. It was unnerving, made even more so by the fact that Bakhu had made no attempt to either rouse him or attack. Bra'tac had only allowed himself to meditate for a few hours, but felt rebuked, nonetheless.
He stood, and would have snuffed out the fire with his boot had they built one. "Onward," he said. "Have you an estimate of our distance from Monthu?"
"Miles yet," Bakhu said.
"Then lead," said Bra'tac, and Bakhu led. On they marched, through corridors remarkable in their alikeness, until they came to a great door.
Bakhu stopped, and nodded to them. "His chambers," he said.
The door was unadorned and reinforced. Bra'tac looked it over, then went to the controls to open it. A quick inspection revealed that they had been nonfunctional for some time – decades, perhaps. "Monthu must not entertain many visitors."
Bakhu pushed him aside, not unkindly, and set to work on the wiring. Bra'tac watched him, holding his staff weapon ready; who knew what sort of defenses such a recluse might employ?
But the door groaned open, after a while, without fanfare, and nothing shot or sprang at them from beyond. The air in the hidden chambers was stale, and the furnishings old. Even the gurgle of water, fed from some far-underground spring, did nothing to dispel the atmosphere of ruin.
Bra'tac stepped in, expecting to see the place long abandoned, and instead saw Monthu in a corner: a strange, nervous Goa'uld whose host seemed to be weathering the millennia poorly. His skin was wrinkled, his eyes pale and clouded. Even the clothes Monthu wore were threadbare, with long rips no one had mended. Bra'tac was taken aback; one rarely saw a Goa'uld in such disarray. They were vain to the last, and even in hiding were known to sacrifice their own safety to ensure the acquisition of slaves and the proper maintenance of their sarcophagi. Seeing this ruin of a planetary lord, Bra'tac felt something almost like shame. Almost like pity.
Monthu opened his mouth to speak.
And said nothing; Bakhu had raised a hand, and some small, jeweled thing in his palm shot red light and struck Monthu in the throat. The Goa'uld crumpled, eyes wide in shock, fixed in death.
"It is done," Bakhu said; "your lord will be pleased."
Bra'tac looked at the corpse, and thought how small a thing, how petty, was the execution of this god. How unnecessary to send a great hunter to kill a cringing, unguarded Goa'uld.
How like Apophis.
"How long had he hidden here?" Bra'tac asked.
Bakhu turned and strode out the door. "Who can know."
"As Apophis harried him, and his Jaffa died for him," Bra'tac said, and stepped quickly to draw even with him. "In a tomb of his own devising. Do you feel nothing?"
"I have never been known to."
-
Little was said on the march away from the bunker, or when they rested, or when they marched back to the rings. Surely, Bra'tac thought, there would be songs of this quiet little mission, painted by the imaginations of those who thought a First Prime and an ashrak would never be wasted on a task so meaningless. These would be the same bards who sang of the infinite glory and wisdom of Apophis.
At the rings, as he had been instructed to do, Bra'tac took his subspace communicator from his pack and activated it. Apophis was at his leisure; there was little wait before the surface cleared into an image of Apophis's face. "Speak."
"My lord. Lord Monthu is dead." Bra'tac refrained from saying that it was a death without contest or glory, which turned little credit to Apophis's name.
Apophis smiled. "Good," he said. "There was no trouble to delay you?"
"None whatsoever," Bra'tac said. "The ashrak knew the path to Lord Monthu's lair. Lord Monthu, true to his word, had surrendered even the vestiges of his personal guard. None opposed us."
Apophis nodded. "Then return home, my First Prime," he said. "And kill the ashrak. I have no need for a beast who will turn on his masters."
The transmission washed out.
Bra'tac held the transmitter for a moment longer, then turned back to Bakhu. The ashrak was still regarding him, and no expression crossed his features.
"Your lord has commanded," Bakhu said.
"Am I to believe you would allow me to kill you?" Bra'tac asked.
Bakhu remained silent.
"I could do little without your allowance," Bra'tac said. "I might be the first Jaffa ever to slay an ashrak."
"You would not be the first," Bakhu said.
"You care nothing, even for your own life," Bra'tac said. He shook his head. "This is the ideal the Jaffa are taught we must rise to, and here my lord Apophis is, spitting on you for it."
"You do not intend to kill me," Bakhu observed.
Bra'tac considered that. "I had never dreamed that it would be in my power to spare the life of a Goa'uld. Even a Goa'uld orak. But you are entirely unlike a Goa'uld, my friend."
Bakhu was silent. Bra'tac had expected him to refute that – say I am no one's friend, perhaps – but instead, he did not deign to respond at all.
Bra'tac watched him, searching for reaction on a reactionless face. "I know I cannot order you, Bakhu. But I will not kill you. I would ask that you not bring this small disobedience to the attention of my lord."
"I would not give you the same courtesy," Bakhu said. "If you were my target, you would be dead."
"Perhaps," Bra'tac said. "Or perhaps 'most certainly'. But you are a rarity, and however I may regret this in times to come, I cannot kill you now. You should go."
And perhaps the day will come when you will slaughter Apophis and Ra, he thought, although he knew there was little chance of that. Even an ashrak had limits to its power, and Apophis and Ra had weathered many, many attempts on their lives before.
Still. It was a pleasant fantasy, and perhaps not entirely impossible.
"Where will you go?" Bra'tac asked, curious of what a creature like Bakhu might do with his freedom. But Bakhu said nothing, and in the end, it was Bra'tac who turned to leave.
- END -
Author: magistrate (
magibrain)Rating: T.
Genre: Character study
Beta: I'm trying to make a joke here about soullessness. It's not coming together.
Continuity: Canon-compliant.
Prerequisites: Ashraks. Also Apophis.
Summary: Bra'tac is assigned to an extremely odd mission, with an extremely odd companion.
Disclaimer: Stargate and its associated characters are the property of MGM and not Jon Layne Fisher. Thank god. The opinions expressed herein are the properties of the characters and not of Seven Macaw. Issues of loyalty will not be settled via arbitration. Questions, comments and alliteration can be left in replies or directed to magistrata(at)gmail(dot)com. Thank you for reading!
Author's Notes: s;dhf;dhg;disuhg/;eruF;USDGF;DSUFG';JKDG. Also, written for the Bra'tac & Jaffa Alphabet Soup and Gen Fic Day. Check out everything else!
=
An odd silence plagued the Court of Apophis, stifling even the rumors which would have explained why. Bra'tac had been First Prime long enough to distrust such silences, especially when he was summoned out of one to a secret meeting with his lord.
He entered Apophis's throneroom with, as ever, little idea what to expect. What he saw offered little in the way of explanation: Apophis on his throne, expression repulsed and intrigued, and a figure kneeling before him, so motionless as to seem dead.
"Bra'tac," Apophis greeted as Bra'tac bowed. "How fares the battle on the Line of Cabrakan?"
Bra'tac did not allow his curiosity to show. Curiosity was not a trait the Goa'uld valued in their servants. "Well, my lord. Lord Zipacna shows his loyalty to you thrice over in his attempts to take the seven systems. Your own Jaffa have laid down their lives rather than see you lose a single lightminute of your won space."
"Well that they do so," Apophis said. "And well that Zipacna's aim remains true. It is a matter of loyalty for which I have called you forth."
A deep foreboding grew in Bra'tac's chest, but he allowed none of it to touch his face. Matters of loyalty in the court of Apophis generally went rank in file with executions. "My lord?"
Apophis gestured to the figure before him, and for a moment slipped into the higher tongue of court and Ra. "Monthu, long a thorn in our side, has surrendered to us his territories at last," he said. "To escape our wrath, he has offered us a gift to show his eternal loyalty to our being." Then, once again in lower Goa'uld: "An ashrak."
At that, Bra'tac did go stiff.
Ashraks were storied and rarely seen, and there was more rumor than fact circulating about them. It was said that they were spat out of the Stargates, born of the chill between stars. That they ate dead spirits on their way to the afterworld. It was said that the symbiotes they carried were from a lost, primeval bloodline which predated Ra. It was said they were dead already, and thus could not be killed. Bra'tac had more experience of ashraks than most, and even he didn't know all the truth of them.
How a small planetary lordling like Monthu, however clever his resistance had been, had secured the services of an ashrak was beyond Bra'tac. As was the reason he had chosen to make the ashrak a tribute rather than employ him to bring Apophis down.
Carefully, Bratac formed the words: "What do you wish of me?"
Apophis seemed to enjoy Bra'tac's unease. He always had. "I would like you to prove Monthu's sincerity to me."
An odd request. And a dangerous one. Bra'tac allowed his eyebrows to rise. "How may I do so, my lord?"
Apophis gestured over the ashrak. "You may take this hunter and see Monthu dead."
-
They were to leave on a tel'tak and travel to Menouthis, the planet which Monthu had made his throneworld. Menouthis had at one point likely been a habitable world, but historical bombardments had left the skies a choked, dusty grey, and the surface a pitted ruin.
It seemed to suit Monthu, though, as Monthu was completely uninterested in being hospitable.
Although he'd been the target of Apophis' ambitions for years now, and although his forces had rendered stiff resistance to Apophis' fleet, Monthu himself was never seen. His orders came through his First Prime, through untraceable transmissions, through anything except a face-to-face command. His palace had bustled with sub-commanders and priests, but sat atop a system of sensor-scattering tunnels which riddled the entire crust of his world. Even when Monthu had bowed before Apophis and offered his surrender and subservience, he had done so remotely.
Forty-seven ring transporters dotted the caverns of Menouthis, and the ashrak, without explanation, indicated one. He and Bra'tac ringed down into a wide, dark corridor, and began their hunt. The ashrak led.
He walked without recalcitrance or eagerness. Bra'tac followed, ready for battle, but hearing nothing but silence and their own footsteps and breathing. It was a strange, cool affair, and after several corners, Bra'tac said "This is a strange place for a god to hide."
The ashrak surprised him by answering, "Yes."
"The warren of a prey animal."
"Yes."
They walked for a few more strides.
"Does it trouble you to hunt your old master?" Bra'tac asked.
The ashrak blew out breath, like a hunting dog. "I have never been troubled."
"Never?"
"It is not a concern of ashraks."
"Nor excitement?" Bra'tac asked. "Anticipation?"
"He will die. Death does not excite me."
Bra'tac turned his attention away from the halls, for a moment, focusing instead on his companion. He could sense the symbiote within the hunter, but had he not that sense, he would never have taken him for a Goa'uld.
"So. What is your name? Hm?" He studied the ashrak's face. "Do you have a name?"
"I do."
The ashrak said nothing else. Bra'tac rested both hands on his staff weapon. "I am Bra'tac of Chulak. By what name are you known?"
"I am known most frequently by orak," the ashrak said. Abomination. "By name, I am Bakhu."
-
The ashrak seemed to have endless stamina. Bra'tac was nearing his middle age, but even so, he could sustain a march as long as the freshest of young Jaffa. But the ashrak outlasted him, until he was forced to call a halt. How long they'd been in the tunnels, Bra'tac couldn't say.
They settled down in an unremarkable corner, like any number of unremarkable corners before, and Bra'tac wondered how Bakhu knew his way. Or whether he was just wandering, waiting for his Jaffa companion to die, possibly of old age.
Not that Bakhu couldn't kill him, easily, if he'd wanted him dead.
"Do you eat?" Bra'tac asked, and the ashrak stared at him. His eyes were pale, without glint or glow. "No? Drink?"
"When it suits me."
Bra'tac drew his pack from under his cloak, and withdrew a canteen of water and a flat ration. He offered them to Bakhu, but Bakhu didn't move. After a few long seconds, Bra'tac allowed a small hmph to escape his throat. "As it suits you."
He ate, and the ashrak watched him. It was discomfiting. But, on another hand, simply bewildering – here was a Goa'uld, a symbiote-controlled host, sitting and waiting for a lowly Jaffa. This was not the usual order of things.
The Goa'uld had no respect for silence or subservience, and the only loyalty they trusted was that born of fear and the promise of reward. Little wonder that an ashrak like Bakhu endured slurs like orak – he was like as not perverse, in Goa'uld eyes. His very existence was evidence of a corruption in the genetic lines.
And yet, ashraks were capable of feats of endurance and brutality which put First Primes and Goa'uld alike to shame. Bra'tac had seen, now and then, Goa'uld who took to the battlefields with their troops, there to revel in the blood and desperation. He had never seen one half so deadly, or invulnerable, as the stories of a single ashrak.
And now such a killer was crouched before him, eyes hard and unkind but devoid of insult. Bakhu moved with the grace of a hunter, but had not, even kneeling before Apophis, moved to increase his own station.
Bewildering was one word for it.
Bra'tac finished his water and ration, and clipped the pack back under his cloak. "A question, if I may."
Bakhu didn't say he might not.
Bra'tac exhaled. "Where is your loyalty?"
There was no hesitation. Bakhu answered as though the answer was self-evident, like the temperature of the air or the color of the walls. "It has been given to my lord Apophis."
"Even the most trusted underlord retains some loyalty for himself," Bra'tac said.
"I am no underlord," Bakhu replied. "I am an ashrak."
"True," Bra'tac said.
After a moment, while he tried to think of another question and another way to phrase it, he was again surprised when Bakhu spoke. "Where is your loyalty?"
"I am the First Prime of Lord Apophis," Bra'tac said. "Where else could my loyalty lie but with him?"
The ashrak didn't answer, but Bra'tac got the sense that the answer to that question was considered self-evident as well.
"I know where my loyalty lies," Bra'tac said. And if Bakhu had guessed it... what would he do? "But you... you confound me."
The ashrak looked unimpressed.
"To have the power to make the gods tremble," Bra'tac began.
"I am no threat to your lord," Bakhu said. "An ashrak has never turned against the hand that wields it." He turned, then, and the slitted eyes of his helm seemed to single Bra'tac out. "The same has not always been said for Jaffa."
"The Jaffa are the most loyal of all the servant races," Bra'tac said, and was interrupted.
"The Jaffa will rarely rebel," Bakhu said. "The ashrak never will."
"Why is that?" Bra'tac asked.
"Because we are ashrak," Bakhu said. "It is written in our blood." He nodded, as though that had settled matters. "If you must rest, Jaffa, then rest. It is still a ways to the hiding place of Monthu."
-
When Bra'tac roused from kel'no'reem, Bakhu was still watching him. It was unnerving, made even more so by the fact that Bakhu had made no attempt to either rouse him or attack. Bra'tac had only allowed himself to meditate for a few hours, but felt rebuked, nonetheless.
He stood, and would have snuffed out the fire with his boot had they built one. "Onward," he said. "Have you an estimate of our distance from Monthu?"
"Miles yet," Bakhu said.
"Then lead," said Bra'tac, and Bakhu led. On they marched, through corridors remarkable in their alikeness, until they came to a great door.
Bakhu stopped, and nodded to them. "His chambers," he said.
The door was unadorned and reinforced. Bra'tac looked it over, then went to the controls to open it. A quick inspection revealed that they had been nonfunctional for some time – decades, perhaps. "Monthu must not entertain many visitors."
Bakhu pushed him aside, not unkindly, and set to work on the wiring. Bra'tac watched him, holding his staff weapon ready; who knew what sort of defenses such a recluse might employ?
But the door groaned open, after a while, without fanfare, and nothing shot or sprang at them from beyond. The air in the hidden chambers was stale, and the furnishings old. Even the gurgle of water, fed from some far-underground spring, did nothing to dispel the atmosphere of ruin.
Bra'tac stepped in, expecting to see the place long abandoned, and instead saw Monthu in a corner: a strange, nervous Goa'uld whose host seemed to be weathering the millennia poorly. His skin was wrinkled, his eyes pale and clouded. Even the clothes Monthu wore were threadbare, with long rips no one had mended. Bra'tac was taken aback; one rarely saw a Goa'uld in such disarray. They were vain to the last, and even in hiding were known to sacrifice their own safety to ensure the acquisition of slaves and the proper maintenance of their sarcophagi. Seeing this ruin of a planetary lord, Bra'tac felt something almost like shame. Almost like pity.
Monthu opened his mouth to speak.
And said nothing; Bakhu had raised a hand, and some small, jeweled thing in his palm shot red light and struck Monthu in the throat. The Goa'uld crumpled, eyes wide in shock, fixed in death.
"It is done," Bakhu said; "your lord will be pleased."
Bra'tac looked at the corpse, and thought how small a thing, how petty, was the execution of this god. How unnecessary to send a great hunter to kill a cringing, unguarded Goa'uld.
How like Apophis.
"How long had he hidden here?" Bra'tac asked.
Bakhu turned and strode out the door. "Who can know."
"As Apophis harried him, and his Jaffa died for him," Bra'tac said, and stepped quickly to draw even with him. "In a tomb of his own devising. Do you feel nothing?"
"I have never been known to."
-
Little was said on the march away from the bunker, or when they rested, or when they marched back to the rings. Surely, Bra'tac thought, there would be songs of this quiet little mission, painted by the imaginations of those who thought a First Prime and an ashrak would never be wasted on a task so meaningless. These would be the same bards who sang of the infinite glory and wisdom of Apophis.
At the rings, as he had been instructed to do, Bra'tac took his subspace communicator from his pack and activated it. Apophis was at his leisure; there was little wait before the surface cleared into an image of Apophis's face. "Speak."
"My lord. Lord Monthu is dead." Bra'tac refrained from saying that it was a death without contest or glory, which turned little credit to Apophis's name.
Apophis smiled. "Good," he said. "There was no trouble to delay you?"
"None whatsoever," Bra'tac said. "The ashrak knew the path to Lord Monthu's lair. Lord Monthu, true to his word, had surrendered even the vestiges of his personal guard. None opposed us."
Apophis nodded. "Then return home, my First Prime," he said. "And kill the ashrak. I have no need for a beast who will turn on his masters."
The transmission washed out.
Bra'tac held the transmitter for a moment longer, then turned back to Bakhu. The ashrak was still regarding him, and no expression crossed his features.
"Your lord has commanded," Bakhu said.
"Am I to believe you would allow me to kill you?" Bra'tac asked.
Bakhu remained silent.
"I could do little without your allowance," Bra'tac said. "I might be the first Jaffa ever to slay an ashrak."
"You would not be the first," Bakhu said.
"You care nothing, even for your own life," Bra'tac said. He shook his head. "This is the ideal the Jaffa are taught we must rise to, and here my lord Apophis is, spitting on you for it."
"You do not intend to kill me," Bakhu observed.
Bra'tac considered that. "I had never dreamed that it would be in my power to spare the life of a Goa'uld. Even a Goa'uld orak. But you are entirely unlike a Goa'uld, my friend."
Bakhu was silent. Bra'tac had expected him to refute that – say I am no one's friend, perhaps – but instead, he did not deign to respond at all.
Bra'tac watched him, searching for reaction on a reactionless face. "I know I cannot order you, Bakhu. But I will not kill you. I would ask that you not bring this small disobedience to the attention of my lord."
"I would not give you the same courtesy," Bakhu said. "If you were my target, you would be dead."
"Perhaps," Bra'tac said. "Or perhaps 'most certainly'. But you are a rarity, and however I may regret this in times to come, I cannot kill you now. You should go."
And perhaps the day will come when you will slaughter Apophis and Ra, he thought, although he knew there was little chance of that. Even an ashrak had limits to its power, and Apophis and Ra had weathered many, many attempts on their lives before.
Still. It was a pleasant fantasy, and perhaps not entirely impossible.
"Where will you go?" Bra'tac asked, curious of what a creature like Bakhu might do with his freedom. But Bakhu said nothing, and in the end, it was Bra'tac who turned to leave.
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Date: 2012-07-02 07:49 pm (UTC)I love the worldbuilding here with the terms Bra'tac uses: higher count tongue Goa'uld (of Ra!) vs. lower, "throneworld," Jaffa rumors and whispers about ashraks.
"I am Bra'tac of Chulak. By what name are you known?"
"I am known most frequently by orak," the ashrak said. Abomination. "By name, I am Bakhu."
...Whew. And this:
Surely, Bra'tac thought, there would be songs of this quiet little mission, painted by the imaginations of those who thought a First Prime and an ashrak would never be wasted on a task so meaningless. These would be the same bards who sang of the infinite glory and wisdom of Apophis.
I LOVE how intelligent Bra'tac is here. So shrewd in recognizing the falsity of myths. I wonder if Apophis ever considered the risk of sending an ashrak with a Jaffa and expecting the Jaffa to be unchanged by the experience? Or, as Bra'tac would say, how very like Apophis to not even think of it. Or, even worse, think of it and not care.
Is there somewhere in your headcanon where the two of them met again?
Great fic, Magistrate. Thanks for contributing. :)
no subject
Date: 2012-07-03 06:11 am (UTC)...er, by which I mean.
I feel like fear and the promise of advancement and reward is at least as important to most Goa'uld as true belief, at least so far as keeping the Jaffa nearest them in line goes. I mean, anyone with half a brain can probably tell that the assertions made by the Goa'uld don't pass the test of reality, but when you'll be executed for saying so and no one would hear of it anyway because the propaganda goes out right and there's nothing much to be gained by speaking up and at least something to be gained by playing the good soldier, why fight it? With that sort of a setup, there's no real need to worry about a Jaffa asking inconvenient questions about an ashrak. Who cares if they know, so long as they do what they're told and come back and get praised for it?
...then again, I may be viewing all parties as more cynical than they were intended to be. Either way, though, I don't get the feeling that Apophis has a lot of room in his life for the consideration of risks.
They may meet again! I don't know. I do want to return to this concept and play with it, more.