Valhalla

Tim Waggoner

An original publication of Fandemonium Ltd, produced under license from MGM Consumer Products.

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MGM TELEVISION ENTERTAINMENT INC. Presents

RICHARD DEAN ANDERSON

in

STARGATE SG-1™

MICHAEL SHANKS   AMANDA TAPPING

CHRISTOPHER JUDGE

DON S. DAVIS

Executive Producers JONATHAN GLASSNER and BRAD WRIGHT

MICHAEL GREENBURG RICHARD DEAN ANDERSON

Developed for Television by BRAD WRIGHT & JONATHAN GLASSNER

STARGATE SG-1 © 1997-2011 MGM Television Entertainment Inc. and MGM Global Holdings Inc. STARGATE: SG-1 is a trademark of Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc. All rights reserved.

Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc TM & © 2011 Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer Studios Inc. All Rights Reserved.

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No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the prior written consent of the publisher. Any person who does any unauthorised act in relation to this publication may be liable to criminal prosecution and civil claims for damages.

To Christine:

Thanks for stepping through the gate with me.

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

We loop in the purple twilight,

We spin in the silvery dawn,

With a trail of smoke behind us,

To show where our comrades have gone.

So stand to your glasses steady,

This world is a world full of lies.

Here’s a toast to those dead already,

And hurrah for the next man who dies.

— “Stand to Your Glasses Steady,”

Air Force drinking song

Historian’s note: This novel takes place toward the end of Season 7.

CHAPTER ONE

Now

The giant warrior strode down a barren, rocky hillside and into the valley, the impact of his massive boots causing the ground to tremble, as if the world itself was terrified of the monstrous creature that walked upon its face. The inhuman warrior was impossibly muscled and stood at least twenty feet tall, skin tinted a deep crimson, flames where hair and beard should be, and eyes that glowed like red-hot coals. The giant was garbed in a mail vest over a simple tunic, with leggings and leather boots. He carried a sword wreathed in blazing fire, and flames trailed behind the blade as the warrior slashed the air before him. Space rippled and distorted around the giant swordsman, but Major Samantha Carter knew this effect wasn’t due to the heat.

“Just once, I’d like to fight something that has the common decency to use a simple gun,” O’Neill murmured. “Even a ray gun; I’m not picky.”

“We fight guys who shoot ray guns all the time,” Sam pointed out. “In fact, I can’t think of a time in recent memory when we haven’t —”

“Carter,” O’Neill interrupted. “Let’s focus on the Not-So-Jolly Red Giant heading our way, all right? I promise to let you talk at me some more later. Who knows? I might even listen.”

Sam gave O’Neill a look that said, You’re not as funny as you think you are, but O’Neill ignored it, just like he always did.

O’Neill and Sam crouched behind a rocky outcrop, alongside Teal’c. The outcropping lay at the north end of the valley, situated at the base of another hill, this one far larger than that which the giant had just descended, though it couldn’t properly be called a mountain. More like a mountainette, Sam thought. The outcropping provided little in the way of cover and even less in terms of defense, but right now it was all the three warriors had.

Many more such stones covered the valley floor, gray boulders of varying shapes and sizes, and the giant stepped around — or in some cases over — all of them with ease. The boulders shimmered as the giant passed but reassumed their solid appearance once he moved on.

“It is difficult to make an accurate estimate given the distortion,” Teal’c said. “But I believe Surtr to be less than a kilometer away.”

“And with that stride, Daddy Long-legs will be here before we know it,” O’Neill said.

“Indeed.”

Just as she’d done on hundreds of missions before, Sam quickly checked her primary weapon. The P90 submachine gun was fully loaded and ready to rock and roll, but though the weapon had served Sam well in the past, she privately wondered what good it could do against a creature like the one fast approaching.

Guess I’m going to find out soon enough.

O’Neill carried a P90 as well, along with a Beretta 92R pistol with 9mm rounds for back-up. Teal’c carried a zat’ni’katel — or a “zat gun” for short — and given the size and unknown nature of their giant foe, Sam found herself wishing that the Jaffa warrior had brought his larger, more powerful staff weapon with him on this mission. Sam carried a zat gun as her back-up weapon, and wondered if she shouldn’t switch over to it now. Then again, she had a bad feeling that a being who seemed to be made of living flame would probably shrug off the electrical discharge of a zat as easily as he would 9mm rounds.

They were outgunned and overmatched, but what else was new?

And as if the thought was a cue, from overtop the hillside the giant had just descended came a mass of warriors, perhaps two hundred strong, all of them red-headed, tall, broad-shouldered, and well-muscled. But unlike Surtr they stood no taller than seven feet, their flesh was pale Caucasian, and their hair and beards did not blaze with flame. They were garbed like the giant — mail vests, tunics, leggings, boots — but many of them also wore metal helms and carried brightly painted wooden shields. They were armed with swords, war axes, or spears, but none of their weapons emitted fire like their leader’s blade.

Thank Odin for small favors, Sam thought. But then again, a horde of Viking warriors was bad enough in and of itself.

The warriors came marching down the hillside, following in the giant’s wake, displaying no sign of military organization. Ultimately, they were just a mob of men, but they were a very tall, very muscular mob armed with far too many sharp objects for Sam’s liking.

“The Jotuns seem determined to keep their distance from Surtr,” Sam said. “Why?”

O’Neill unsaftied his weapon. “Maybe he didn’t put on his Viking deodorant this morning.”

“Perhaps the spatial distortion in Surtr’s vicinity will affect his warriors if they come too close,” Teal’c suggested.

“Possibly.” But Sam wasn’t convinced.

O’Neill glanced at his watch, and Sam guessed what he was thinking. The Colonel wanted to give Daniel and the others a few more moments, just to be sure, but she knew they were running out of time.

“All right, that’s long enough,” O’Neill said. “Let’s say hello.”

Sam and Teal’c nodded and the three SG-1 members stood in unison.

“Hey, Hotstuff!” O’Neill shouted, to get Surtr’s attention. He began firing his P90 at the giant, while at the same time Sam fired hers and Teal’c discharged his zat gun.

Just as Sam had feared, the bullets had no affect on the crimson-skinned giant — if they even reached him. She saw no sign that bullets were ricocheting off Surtr, and she feared that the giant’s flames were simply melting the rounds before they even got close. The electrical energy from Teal’c’s zat gun at least reached the giant, but the energy blasts flared blue-white as they struck and coruscated briefly across the Surtr’s body before dissipating. If the flame-bearded giant felt any ill effect from the zat blasts, he showed no sign, and they certainly didn’t slow his progress. Surtr kept coming, one implacable stride after another, his burning-coal eyes fixed on SG-1 and inhuman hatred literally blazing forth from his sockets.

Sam had to give the giant this much: he had some cool special effects going.

“Keep firing!” O’Neill ordered.

Sam understood that their goal wasn’t to stop Surtr — well, technically it was; their ultimate goal was to prevent the giant and his army from crossing through the valley and reaching what lay on the other side. But the three of them weren’t supposed to do it… at least, not all by their lonesome.

Just give it a few more seconds, Daniel…

As Surtr continued his march toward the north end of the valley he half-turned his head and called back over his shoulder.

“Kill them!”

The giant’s words echoed through the valley like the voice of God which, Sam supposed, was the point. She smiled grimly as she continued firing her P90 at Surtr. The giant had taken the bait.

With a roar, the Norse warriors that followed in Surtr’s wake surged forward en masse, though they made sure to give their flame-haired leader a wide berth as they streamed past him like a river flowing around a large rock.

“Teal’c, Carter, choose any target and fire at will!” O’Neill ordered.

The Jaffa warrior began loosing blasts of electrical energy at the oncoming wave of warriors, and Sam was gratified to see that Surtr’s men didn’t share their leader’s resistance to zat gun fire. Every man Teal’c hit stiffened as the energy struck him, and fell face-first onto the ground, unconscious. Without waiting for O’Neill’s order, Sam dropped her P90, switched to her zat, and began helping Teal’c pick off Norsemen. Unfortunately, there were far too many of them and while Sam and Teal’c made a dent in the Norsemen’s numbers, the warriors kept coming, brandishing their weapons and howling for their enemy’s blood.

O’Neill reloaded with swift efficiency and resumed firing, joining Sam and Teal’c in targeting the onrushing warriors. Their additional firepower helped slow the Norsemen’s advance, but Sam knew it wasn’t enough and that their position would be overrun within seconds.

“Now would be an excellent time, Daniel,” O’Neill muttered.

Across the valley, hundreds of boulders shimmered, grew blurry and indistinct as they reworked themselves into new forms. An instant later the boulders were gone, replaced by a second group of warriors, but these were garbed in battle dress uniforms similar to those worn by SG-1, and they all carried P90s. These men had blond hair instead of the Jotuns’ red, but the most noticeable difference between them and the other warriors was that they stood six foot on average, and many were closer to five feet in height. The smaller-statured warriors were scattered throughout the valley, and the attacking Jotuns were now directly in their midst.

Sam, O’Neill, and Teal’c ceased firing as the Jotuns stopped their charge, looking around at the blond-haired warriors in surprise and mounting panic. Sam spotted Daniel Jackson standing among the Vanir, and he gave his comrades a quick grin before shouting for the warriors to attack their red-headed foes.

The Vanir bellowed inarticulate battle cries as they surged forward to engage the Jotuns. Sam watched as the smaller warriors laid into their adversaries with vicious enthusiasm, and within seconds the valley became a deadly battleground as Jotun and Vanir fought with no quarter asked or given. A host of P90s thundered, sending a hail of 9mm rounds slamming into Jotun flesh. But the red-headed warriors refused to be cowed. They dashed toward the Vanir, ignoring their foe’s superior weaponry. Many Jotun were cut down in mid run, but enough reached the Vanir gunmen. Swords and axes bit deep into Vanir bodies, and spears pierced chests and bellies. Men roared with fury as they struck and other men cried out in pain as metal violated their flesh.

Sam watched the fighting, but took no pleasure in it. As a warrior she understood the necessity of taking life in order to preserve it, as perverse as that equation often seemed, but that didn’t mean she reveled in slaughter. As far as she was concerned, the best battle was the one that could be avoided, but failing that, the second-best battle was one that was over swiftly with minimal loss of life on both sides. And one that ended with the good guys victorious, of course. Sam was beginning to think that the trap they’d sprung on Surtr and his men into was going to work — but then O’Neill shouted.

“Carter, Teal’c!” He pointed toward Surtr.

The giant now swept his flaming sword back and forth in blazing arcs, striking through Vanir and Jotun alike. But when the fire-flecked blade struck the warriors, instead of slicing through their flesh it caused them to burst into flame which was then immediately absorbed by Surtr’s weapon. And with each warrior Surtr struck and absorbed, the giant increased in size and mass, his armor, clothing, and sword growing proportionately with him. He’d stood twenty feet tall when he’d entered the valley, but now he was closing in on thirty feet and showed no sign of stopping. The giant continued striding forward, sword sweeping around him, destroying friend and foe alike and using their bodies to fuel his growth.

“Now we know why Surtr’s warriors maintained a discrete distance from him,” Sam said. “They wanted to avoid being absorbed until their master was ready.”

O’Neill’s analysis was more succinct. “Oh, crap.”

CHAPTER TWO

Two days ago

Sam had just finished a strenuous workout culminating in a long, relaxing run, and was on her way to take a longer, even more relaxing shower in her quarters, when a klaxon sounded, echoing throughout the hallway. Sam recognized the gate activation alarm, and she was already running toward the gate-room when she saw Daniel jogging down the corridor toward her. The klaxon fell silent, and Sam stopped running. Every time the Stargate was activated, an alarm sounded throughout sublevel twenty-eight of the Cheyenne Mountain complex as a security precaution. Over the years Stargate Command had learned through painful and costly experience not to permit off-world contact of any sort, even simple audio communication, without taking the highest security precautions. If the gate operation proceeded smoothly and there was no threat, the alarm silenced when either the gate was deactivated or the gate-room personnel verified an all-clear.

When Daniel reached Sam, he paused for a second to catch his breath. Daniel was in good shape, but when he was excited, he ran with more passion than discipline and often forgot to breathe properly. Sam couldn’t keep from smiling a little. In many ways, that summed up Daniel’s personality perfectly. He was the most passionate person she knew.

“We’ve just received an off-world communication request,” Daniel said. “Well, to be accurate, we didn’t; you did. It’s Jonas. He wants to talk with you.”

Daniel wore his blue battle dress uniform, as he often did when on base, but Sam had been exercising, and so she was wearing a tight black T-shirt and a pair of light gray shorts. She was still sweating a bit, and so she took hold of the towel draped around her shoulders and used one end of it to wipe her brow. Some women in the military — especially those of higher rank, like her — might have felt self-conscious to be seen like this: in shorts and sweating after a workout. Despite all the progress the military had made toward gender equality in the last few decades, the fact remained that its culture remained heavily male, regardless of the branch, and women often felt the need to de-sexualize themselves in order to be taken seriously. The same was true for the field of theoretical astro-physics. But Sam wasn’t overly concerned with such matters. It wasn’t that she was unaware of sexist attitudes, but she’d never been a person who allowed others to define who and what she was.

Besides, she could never feel self-conscious in front of Daniel. After everything she’d been through with the other members of SG-1, she considered them family. No, they were closer than that. Their bonds had been forged in battles on dozens of different worlds, fighting against enemies that were beyond most people’s imaginations. But the SG-1 team was bound by more than just the experience of shared combat. The things they’d seen: worlds, races, and technologies both wondrous and terrible, and all the things they’d done…and had done to them… It changed you, in ways so deeply profound that only someone else who’d lived through the same experiences could ever hope to understand. Sam didn’t think there was a word for the bond the team shared, but it was real and it was deeper than anything she’d ever known. For a time Jonas Quinn had been a part of SG-1, and that meant he shared that bond. Whatever Jonas needed, Sam would do everything in her power to help him — and she knew the rest of the team would too.

“Is there trouble on Langara?” She tensed, ready to race toward the gate-room.

“Jonas is fine, and so is Langara.” Daniel grimaced. “Well, you know what the political situation is like there. Fine may be overstating the case a bit. From what I gather, Jonas is working on some sort of project, and he’d like your input.” Daniel’s expression suddenly became concerned. “Wait — you didn’t think…? I hope I didn’t worry you because I was running. It’s just that Jonas is waiting, and…” He gave an apologetic shrug. “Sorry.”

Sam smiled affectionately. Daniel was in the prime of his life — which was saying something for a man who’d been dead not all that long ago — but he often came across as the stereotype of the preoccupied elderly professor.

“Come on,” she said. “Let’s go see what Jonas wants.”

Sam headed toward the gate-room, but Daniel hesitated.

“I’d like to,” he said, “but one of our archeological teams brought back some off-world artifacts a few days ago — pottery shards, weapons, armor — recovered from a burial mound. I haven’t really had a chance to do much more than glance at the artifacts, but the runes on them are extremely similar to those used by the ancient Norse peoples, and… Well, I was hoping to take a closer look at them this afternoon.” He paused. “Meaning now.”

Sam couldn’t help breaking into a broad grin. Daniel was by training, not to mention temperament, a linguist and an archeologist, and while those skills were vital to SG-1, he rarely got the opportunity to engage in pure research anymore. Usually he was working on the fly, desperately trying to find the answers the team needed in order to stave off one disaster or another. Working at a more relaxed pace, without the fate of one or more worlds hanging in the balance, would doubtless seem like nirvana to him.

“Have fun,” she said.

Daniel returned her grin and headed off toward his quarters, while Sam continued down the corridor in the opposite direction, curious to learn what Jonas wanted to speak to her about.

“Langara has a planetary defense network?” Sam said. “I was just there a few months ago, and you didn’t mention anything about it. In fact, I was under the impression your people’s space technology wasn’t all that advanced.” She paused. “Sorry. No offense.”

Sam sat at one of the computer consoles in the gate-room, Jonas Quinn’s face displayed on the screen in front of her. He wore a loose-fitting light gray shirt with a zipper down the front, similar to what he’d worn during her last visit. She gathered it was his people’s equivalent of a lab coat, though his outfit looked a lot more stylish, not to mention more comfortable.

Jonas smiled. “We’ve been rather busy since your last visit.”

Several months ago an unstable vein of naquadria had threatened to destroy the entire world of Langara, and SG-1 had traveled to the planet to help. With the team’s aid, Jonas used an underground excavation vehicle to burrow down to the naquadria vein and neutralize it. Complicating the mission was the discovery that Jonas’s new research assistant, Kianna Cyr, had in fact been taken as a host by a Goa’uld in service to the System Lord Ba’al. The Goa’uld, for reasons of its own, helped Jonas and the others complete the mission, but in doing so the symbiote had sustained a great deal of damage from exposure to naquadria radiation. In the end, the Goa’uld succumbed to its injuries, but not before managing to use the last of its strength to heal its host body and ensure the survival of Kianna Cyr.

“Once we discovered that the Goa’uld who’d taken Kianna as a host was an advance scout for Ba’al… Well, let’s just say that the Joint Ruling Council decided to make our space program its number-one priority — with more than a bit of urging on my part, I should add.” Jonas smiled grimly. “There’s nothing like the impending threat of having your planet’s population enslaved by a Goa’uld System Lord to get bickering politicians to stop acting like children and start working together.”

Langara’s quarreling nations had a long history of mistrust — not unlike Earth, Sam had to admit — and it was only the Langarans’ discovery of the Stargate system that had begun to change that. But the Langarans were a stubborn people who were slow to accept change, and even the threat posed by the System Lords could only get them to cooperate so far. During the naquadria incident there had been a very real possibility that their world would be obliterated, and even then — with the clock rapidly counting down to Langara’s destruction — the members of the Joint Ruling Council had argued so much about the specifics of how to save their populace that, in the end, General Hammond and Colonel O’Neill had withdrawn Stargate Command’s offer to relocate their people to another world. Even impending planetary annihilation hadn’t been able to compel the council members to set aside their differences. But from what Jonas was saying, it sounded as if the council members might finally have learned their lesson — especially since Ba’al would undoubtedly love to get his hands on their planet’s rich naquadria deposits.

Jonas continued. “Our space program advanced quickly, in no small part because of the knowledge I gained about advanced technologies during my time with SG-1. But when it became clear that creating a space fleet of our own was beyond our current capabilities, we decided to shift our focus create a planetary defense network. As you might guess, a complex system like the Array requires massive amounts of energy to power. We’ve developed an experimental naquadria power cell for use in the Array, but the key word here is experimental. The council would like to begin full-scale tests of the Array as soon as possible, but I’d feel more comfortable about that if I could get someone I trust to look over what we’ve done and double-check our work. Someone like you, Sam.”

She was flattered by Jonas’s request. The man possessed a genetically advanced makeup that granted him extremely high intelligence and an ability to learn scary-fast. Sam wasn’t given to false modesty. Though she did have a tendency to doubt her capabilities from time to time, such doubts rarely lingered, and they never kept her from doing what needed to be done. She knew her stuff, but sometimes she thought Jonas played on a whole different level than mere mortals like herself.

“I’d be happy to take a look at any data you send me,” she said.

Jonas looked uncomfortable. “The ruling council would prefer it if you made a more…personal inspection.”

“Meaning they’re touchy about sending any data on the Array off-world,” Sam translated.

“Exactly.”

The Langarans were still learning to trust one another, so it was no surprise to Sam that they didn’t fully trust Stargate Command yet, despite all the help SGC had given their world in the past.

“I’ll have to run it by General Hammond and get his permission, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem,” Sam said.

Jonas grinned. “Great! I’ll feel so much better flipping the Array’s on switch once you’ve had a chance to look things over. Not that I don’t have good people working with me on the project. My new assistant Rahil has been absolutely invaluable. Not only was he a great help in designing the naquadria cells, he also assisted in revising the final designs for the Array. And Kianna…” Jonas trailed off, his expression growing more serious.

“How is Kianna?” Sam asked. Hosting a Goa’uld symbiote had devastating psychological effects on a human, and recovery could take years. And even then, some mental and emotional scars remained.

“Her work has been exemplary,” Jonas said. “No complaints there. In fact, she retains a certain amount of her symbiote’s technical knowledge — I believe the symbiote imprinted it on her mind as a sort of… Well, as a going-away present, I suppose you could say. Whatever the reason, that knowledge has proved most useful to the project.”

“That’s good to hear,” Sam said, “but I didn’t ask for a job-performance review. I asked you how Kianna was.” She said this gently, hoping to soften any sting her words might carry.

Before Jonas had learned that Kianna was host to a Goa’uld there had been a mutual attraction between them. But he’d met Kianna after the Goa’uld had taken her as a host, and thus he hadn’t known the real woman. The Goa’uld had been attracted to Jonas, though Sam would’ve been hard-pressed to believe the symbiote loved Jonas or indeed, that the creature was even capable of experiencing the emotion. But the fact remained that the Goa’uld had sacrificed its life to save Langara, and Sam believed that had been due in no small part for its feelings toward Jonas. After the naquadria incident, Kianna had considered resigning as Jonas’s assistant — after all, it had technically been the Goa’uld’s position and not hers — but ultimately she’d chosen to stay on.

So Jonas now worked with the body of a woman he’d been attracted to, and that woman retained the memory of the Goa’uld’s feelings for Jonas: feelings Kianna had experienced, if not exactly shared.

Talk about an awkward office romance.

Jonas seemed to struggle for words as he answered Sam’s question.

“Our conversations tend to focus solely on work-related matters, but from what I gather, Kianna’s been seeing a therapist to help her deal with the psychological aftermath of being taken as a Goa’uld host. It seems to be helping, but she still has periods when her concentration lapses. She’s been taking medication…” He trailed off.

Sam tried to think of the most delicate way to phrase what she wanted to say next. “Have you considered that this project might be too high-stress for Kianna right now? Maybe it would be best if she took some time off to recover.”

“We discussed that,” Jonas said, “and Kianna prefers to keep busy. She believes that having an outside focus is what she needs to help prevent her from dwelling on what happened, and her therapist agrees. I’m not so sure I’m convinced it’s best, but I’m willing to give Kianna the benefit of the doubt for now. Her work remains excellent, and since I have Rahil to assist me as well…” He broke off and sighed. “I know it’s stupid of me, but I can’t help feeling that I should’ve picked up on what was happening. I worked alongside Kianna for weeks without realizing she’d been taken as a Goa’uld host.”

“You can’t blame yourself, Jonas,” Sam said. “The Goa’uld, for all their megalomaniacal posturing, are highly skilled at blending in with ordinary humans when they wish. It only makes sense, since their species is a parasitic one. It’s a defense mechanism, a kind of protective coloration. They may not use it very often, but when they do, it works great.”

Jonas shook his head. “Out of the millions of people on my planet, I’m the only one who’s had direct experience of the Goa’uld. I should’ve known.”

Sam understood then that the major reason Jonas had kept Kianna on the Array project was because he felt a deep guilt over what had happened to her.

“Because of the work we do — traveling across interstellar distances simply by stepping through a gate, fighting to protect worlds and sometimes the entire galaxy — we sometimes forget that we’re only human,” Sam said. “Don’t be too hard on yourself, Jonas. The only one responsible for what happened to Kianna was the Goa’uld that took her for a host.”

“You’re right,” Jonas said. But from his tone it was clear that he wasn’t convinced.

It’ll take him some time, Sam thought. Just like it will for Kianna. Aloud, she said, “I know the ruling council is reluctant for you to send data off-world, but is there any chance you can sneak me some specs on both the power cell and the Array so I can look over them before requesting General Hammond to authorize my trip to Langara? You know how he is; the more intel he has, the more comfortable he is when making decisions.”

Jonas slowly smiled. “Like I said, Sam, I’m not permitted to send you anything. By the way, while we’ve been talking, my equipment has picked up a faint secondary signal. It’s probably just a data-echo, but I can’t tell whether it’s originating on my end or yours. We should probably run full equipment diagnostics on both ends.”

“Thanks for the heads-up.” Sam suppressed a grin as her fingers flew across the communications console. With seconds, she’d detected the hidden transmission signal Jonas was sending, isolated it, and downloaded the data that he wasn’t allowed to send her. “There. I think that should do it, but it’ll take me a couple hours to run a complete diagnostic.” Meaning a couple hours to read over the data you sent. “I’ll speak with General Hammond then, and I’ll get back with you and let you know what he says. Sound good?”

Jonas smiled. “Thanks, Sam. Hopefully, we’ll see you on this side of the gate soon.”

Jonas terminated the transmission, and his image disappeared from Sam’s screen to be replaced by SGC’s insignia. Sam took a few more seconds to transmit Jonas’s data to the workstation in her quarters, and when she was finished, she stood.

Looks like I have some homework to do. She used her exercise towel to wipe partially dried sweat off the back of her neck. After a quick shower.

CHAPTER THREE

Sam and the rest of SG-1 were already seated around the meeting table when General Hammond walked into the room.

“Good afternoon, people,” he said as he took his seat at the head of the table. Hammond carried a manila file folder, and he placed it on the tabletop in front of him, opened it, and spread out the papers within so that he could refer to them as he spoke. As always, his manner was brisk, confident, and professional.

Sam couldn’t count the number of times she’d sat here and watched the General begin a briefing, but every time she was impressed by how his presence seemed to fill the room. General George Hammond wasn’t the most physically imposing of men. At first glance, there was nothing to distinguish him from an average man on the street, but Hammond was a highly decorated officer whose career spanned nearly forty years. He’d served in Vietnam and Kuwait, and when he’d accepted command of SGC, the Stargate had been inactive and his posting was supposed to be a quiet transition to retirement. Little had the General known that his retirement would be postponed when SGC became the first line of defense for Earth. Sam couldn’t think of anyone better suited to the job. Hammond exuded a quiet strength and wisdom, and she often felt that she — as well as the other members of SG-1 — relied on that strength, drew on it to prepare themselves for whatever mission lay ahead of them.

At least the mission they were here to discuss today would be a routine one… Or at least as close as SG-1 ever came to routine. Sam noticed Daniel had brought a sword scabbard which he’d laid on the table in front of him. No doubt one of the Norse artifacts he’d been studying. It wasn’t uncommon for Daniel to bring work with him to a meeting in case it got started late, and she thought no more about the scabbard.

Before Hammond could get the meeting started in earnest, O’Neill asked, “General, have you ever played Pong? The video game, I mean.”

The General, unflappable as always, turned to O’Neill. “No, Colonel, I don’t believe I’ve ever had the pleasure.”

“I was trying to teach Teal’c the finer points of the game earlier and he was, shall we say, less than impressed.”

Daniel frowned. “Finer points? As I recall, there’s not much to the game.”

Teal’c glanced at O’Neill. “Precisely.”

“Pong is as an important piece of Earth’s cultural history,” O’Neill said. “It was one of the earliest video games, not to mention a way to bring the experience of the table game to those poor unfortunates who didn’t have space in their house for the real thing.”

“I find the tactile reality of the real thing far more stimulating than the simulation you showed me, O’Neill.” A small smile crossed Teal’c’s lips. “Besides, I believe your true intention was to best me at the video game because you cannot defeat me at true ping-pong.”

“And did he beat you?” Sam asked.

“He did not,” Teal’c said. “I was the victor in each of our matches.” He paused and his smile widened slightly. “All twenty-one of them.”

O’Neill gave the Jaffa a withering look before turning his attention to the General.

“When we get back from wherever you’re sending us, sir, you and I will have to sit down a play a game or two. Maybe you’ll be able to appreciate the subtleties of the game that others can’t.”

“I’ll look forward to it,” Hammond said smoothly. “Now, if we could get to the matter at hand? Or matters, I should say, since I’ve received mission requests from both Major Carter and Dr. Jackson.”

Sam looked at Daniel and he at her, both equally surprised.

“I take it Jonas wanted to do more than just chat with you about his new project,” Daniel said.

“And I take it that you discovered something of more than casual interest when you inspected those Norse artifacts,” Sam said. Now she knew why Daniel had brought the scabbard to the meeting.

O’Neill turned to the General. “Don’t you just love it when these meetings run themselves?” He turned to Sam and Daniel. “Maybe you two should flip a coin to see who goes first.”

Sam and Daniel turned to General Hammond.

“It’s true. You’ve both requested permission for SG-1 to go off-world, but to two different places and for different reasons. Colonel Carter, since it seems your fellow team members aren’t aware of Mr. Quinn’s recent communication, why don’t you fill them in?”

“Yes, sir.” Sam gave her fellow team members a quick rundown on her conversation with Jonas that morning. “Since then I’ve gone over the specs Jonas sent,” she said. “Both the Array and the naquadria power cell are highly sophisticated technologies — a real quantum leap for Langara, and potentially of major interest to us, not to mention all the other planets in the galaxy threatened by the System Lords. If the power cell works according to Jonas’s specs, it’s capable of producing immense amounts of energy. It works by first stimulating a complex series of subatomic reactions in the naquadria, and then…” She broke off when she saw the blank looks on the faces of the four men in the room with her. She knew she had a tendency to geek out when it came to discussing new technologies, especially something at potentially revolutionary as Jonas’s naquadria cell. “Well, let me just say it’s pretty cool.”

“On a coolness scale of one to ten?” O’Neill asked.

“If the power cell works the way Jonas hopes, all the way up to eleven, sir.”

O’Neill nodded. “Eleven’s good.”

“Not only would the power cell solve so many of the energy problems we face,” Sam continued. “But if we could build our own defense Array to protect Earth…”

“We get it,” O’Neill said. “Another eleven, right?”

“You bet.”

“Thank you, Major,” Hammond said. “Your turn, Dr. Jackson.”

Daniel pushed his glasses up on his nose, leaned forward, and clasped his hands on the table in front of him. “As I told Sam, several days ago one of our archeological teams brought back a cache of artifacts they found in an off-world burial mound. Until today, I hadn’t had the opportunity to give them more than a cursory examination, but now that I have, I can verify the team’s initial surmise: the artifacts do indeed contain runes similar to those used by the Norse peoples of Earth.”

“So we’re talking what?” O’Neill said. “A boatload of Vikings who got really lost on their way to pillage Britain?”

“Not exactly,” Daniel said. “As I said, the artifacts contain Norse runes — on the outside. But on the inside of one of the artifacts — specifically, this scabbard — I discovered writing from another language: Asgard.”

Teal’c frowned. “On the inside, Daniel Jackson?”

Daniel leaned back, looking suddenly sheepish. “Yeah, well, when I was examining the scabbard I, uh, sort of dropped it.”

“And let me guess,” O’Neill said. “It sort of broke. Didn’t they teach you not to drop priceless ancient artifacts back in Archaeology 101?”

Daniel pursed his lips in irritation, but he took hold of the scabbard and lifted one side of it away from the other. He held up the split piece and turned the inside toward the others so they could see the runes etched within. “On the inside, written in Asgard, is a gate address — one previously unknown to us. The address is accompanied by a single word: Valhalla.”

“Is that not the Asgard planet where the Replicators were trapped?” Teal’c asked.

“That’s Hala,” Daniel said as he replaced the scabbard piece back onto its other half. “In the Asgard’s language, it means beginning. The word on the inside of the scabbard is Val-halla. The name derives from the old Norse word valholl, which means hall of the slain. Interestingly, there’s a similar word in Asgard, but it means new beginning. Valhalla is a sort of a Viking paradise, where the spirits of slain warriors spend eternity in glorious battle. Every day they fight from sunrise to sunset, then at the night those who were killed in the day’s battle are resurrected and everyone adjourns to a mead hall to feast, drink, and brag about that day’s victories or commiserate over the day’s defeats. The next day, they do it all over again.”

“Forever?” O’Neill said. “Sounds like it would get dull real fast.”

“I can see how the concept would possess a certain appeal to a warrior culture,” Sam said.

Daniel went on. “Technically, Valhalla is the name of the hall where the Vikings feast after the day’s battle. Odin, the Allfather of the Norse gods, was supposed to join in the revelry each night. The spirits of the slain weren’t just fighting to while away eternity, though. They were training for the day when Ragnarok, the Norse version of doomsday, took place. The slain warriors were supposed to fight with Odin and the other Norse gods against the forces of darkness during Ragnarok.”

“And were they supposed to win?” O’Neill asked.

“No,” Daniel said. “The Vikings weren’t big on happy end-ings. Ultimately Odin and the rest of the gods would be destroyed, and then the cycle of Creation would begin anew.”

General Hammond broke in then. “Do you believe this myth has any connection to the planet Hala?”

“The gate address inside the scabbard definitely belongs to a different planet,” Daniel said. “As for a connection… We’ve all been doing this long enough to know the way truths, half-truths, and outright myths can become intertwined when it comes to alien civilizations. It’s likely there’s some sort of connection, even it it’s only a tenuous one. But it’s impossible to even guess what that connection may be without further investigation.”

“You mean direct investigation, do you not?” Teal’c said.

Daniel shrugged. “The easiest way to find out about any connection is to dial the address, walk through the gate, and see what we find.”

“Not to piddle on your parade, Daniel,” O’Neill said, “but this sounds like a job for one of the other SG teams.”

General Hammond answered before Daniel could reply. “Ordinarily, I would agree with you, Colonel. But if this new address leads to a world with a connection to the Asgard, not only does it merit investigation, but I want SGC’s top team on it. The Asgard are one of our most important allies against the Goa’uld, and the technologies they’ve shared with us have been absolutely essential to Earth’s defense.”

“And if we just happen to find some new technology that the Asgard left lying around there…”

“Precisely, Colonel,” Hammond said. “Good to see we’re on the same page.”

Sam had been listening patiently the whole time Daniel and the others discussed his finding, but now she felt a need to jump in.

“With all respect, sir, what about Jonas’s naquadria cell? That’s an important new technological advance, and not only do we know it’s real, we know exactly where to find it. Besides, Jonas is a member of the team. At least, he was. We owe it to him to respond to his request for assistance.”

“Agreed on all points, Major,” Hammond said. “I’ve read your report, and if I understand the situation correctly, you didn’t detect any problems in the design of the power cell based on the data Mr. Quinn sent.”

“That’s true, but the technology involved in the naquadria cell is incredibly complicated, and I only had a few hours to go over the specs —”

“What I’m getting at, Major, is that we have no reason to believe there’s a pressing need to pay an immediate visit to Langara,” Hammond said. “Is this your assessment as well?”

Sam thought about it for a moment. “Yes, sir. Both the naquadria cell and the Array are being tested in simulation only right now. Full-scale tests are weeks away, at least.”

“So Mr. Quinn can wait a few days while the four of you check out the new gate address Dr. Jackson’s discovered,” Hammond said. There was a slight suggestion of a smile on his lips, and a hint of a twinkle in his eye. General Hammond was a disciplined military man, but he was also a father and a grandfather, and he often had a parent’s gentle way of allowing his “children” to reach their own conclusions about matters.

Sam smiled. “I suppose he can.”

“Thanks for letting me know, Sam. I’ll see you in few days.”

Jonas broke the connection and rose from his computer console. He was glad he’d been able to talk the ruling council into allowing him to have a secure comm link to Langara’s Stargate in his lab. It wasn’t that he was too lazy to go to his people’s version of SGC’s gate-room to talk to Sam, but he hated to waste time when there was important work to be done. Not that he didn’t enjoy a break now and again, but considering the potential threat his people faced from Ba’al and the other System Lords, he couldn’t allow himself the luxury of wasting time when Langara so badly needed the defense Array to be up and running as soon as possible.

“I don’t know why you feel the need to have your former comrades come inspect our work. Honestly, I find it a bit insulting.”

Rahil stood on the other side of the lab, gazing at the computer screen before him. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, a bit on the beefy side, but not fat. He was a handsome man, but his bald head, crow’s feet, and graying brown beard showed that middle-age was catching up with him. He wore a light blue lab tunic and matching slacks, but despite the fact the clothing was designed to be loose-fitting and comfortable, Rahil always seemed to Jonas to look stiff and ill at ease in the outfit. Then again, he thought, Rahil never seemed fully at ease no matter what he was doing.

Rahil hadn’t looked away from the computer monitor when speaking — he never took his attention off his work if he could avoid it — so Jonas crossed the lab to join him.

Jonas’s facility was one of the most advanced laboratories on Langara, but you couldn’t tell that by its appearance. A thick iron door covered the lab’s entrance, making the space seem more like a prison than a place of scientific inquiry. The far wall was lined with windows from ceiling to floor, relieving some of the door’s gloomy effect and providing an abundance of natural light to work by. Given the sensitive nature of the work that went on in the lab, though, the windows were designed to be opaque from the outside, and they were impervious to weapons fire — both projectile and energy-based. Simple metal shelves and cabinets lined the other walls, all of them filled with a seemingly haphazard assortment of papers, bottles, and electronic equipment. The worktables were less cluttered, the equipment they contained — computers, microscopes, chemical-filled vials and flasks — organized more or less neatly. An old-fashioned chalkboard sat propped up in one corner of the lab, and it was currently covered with a series of arcane equations that only a handful of people on Langara even had a chance of deciphering. Jonas did most of his work on computer, but there was something about the tactile nature of writing on a chalkboard that he found inspiring; plus, it made working with a team easier.

All in all, the lab’s overall feel was one of a lived-in, slightly cluttered workspace, and it suited Jonas perfectly. It had a homey feel, which was good since he spent more time here than he did in his personal quarters. Rahil, however, was a bit of a stickler when it came to neatness, and no doubt working in the midst of Jonas’s benign clutter was something of a constant irritant for him, though the man had never said anything. Still, Jonas sometimes caught Rahil tidying up when he thought Jonas wasn’t looking. Jonas didn’t care, though. Just so long as he could find what he needed when he needed it.

“I didn’t ask Sam to consult on our project because I lack faith in your work — or Kianna’s,” Jonas said. “Samantha Carter is a brilliant scientist in her own right, and when you add to that all the experience she’s had as a member of SG-1… Well, there aren’t too many people in the galaxy who can match her qualifications. We don’t have the luxury of taking years to perfect the Array and the naquadria cell. We need to do it as swiftly as possible, and we need to get it right the first time. Because of that, we’re rushing so fast that it’s more than likely we’ve made some mistakes along the line — mistakes that we can’t see because we’re too close to the project. We need a pair of fresh eyes to look over our work.”

Lines of code were scrawling across Rahil’s monitor, but he tapped a key and the screen’s display froze. He turned to Jonas and smiled.

“You’re right, of course. We are under a great deal of pressure, aren’t we? I suppose it gets to me sometimes. I apologize.”

A great deal of pressure was a monumental understatement. The Joint Ruling Council wanted Langara safe from off-world predation, and they wanted it now. After the incident with the unstable naquadria vein and the discovery that a Goa’uld loyal to Ba’al had infiltrated Jonas’ lab, the council had been almost frantic to ensure the safety of their people. Before dying, the Goa’uld in possession of Kianna had sent a message to Ba’al claiming the naquadria deposits on Langara were too unstable to be suitable for the System Lord’s use. The Goa’uld had likely done this more out of spite toward Ba’al than from concern for the Langarans. It had never had any intention of helping Ba’al gain Langara’s naquadria; instead, the Goa’uld had wanted to claim the energy-rich prize for herself. Still, the message had done its job. Ba’al had stayed away from Langara in the months since, but that didn’t mean the planet was safe. Ba’al might eventually get wind that he’d been lied to and come to check out the naquadria’s suitability for himself. And even if Ba’al didn’t come, there were other System Lords in the galaxy and other threats as well. Just as on Earth, most Langarans were unaware of just how precarious their position in the galaxy was. If the Langaran people were to have any hope of ensuring their ongoing survival, that hope lay with the Array and the naquadria cell that would power it.

And that meant all the planet’s hopes depended on the work Jonas and his two assistants were doing in this very lab. Pressure? Just a little.

Jonas clasped Rahil’s shoulder and gave it a friendly squeeze. “No apology necessary. The way we’ve been going at it these last few weeks, I’m surprised that the three of us aren’t at each other’s throats by now.”

“Speaking of the three of us, where’s Kianna? I haven’t seen her all morning.”

Jonas removed his hand from Rahil’s shoulder and sighed. “She sent me a message earlier asking if she could come in later today. She…had another bad night.”

Once Kianna had been freed from Goa’uld possession, the Council had demanded that she resign her position as Jonas’s assistant. The three Council members had little more than a basic understanding of the symbiotic relationship between Goa’uld and host, and they feared that even though Kianna was “free,” she might still somehow be tainted by the Goa’uld’s persona. It had taken hours for Jonas to explain to the council that Kianna was completely free of Goa’uld influence, and that in a sense she had actually benefited since she retained some portion of the Goa’uld’s technical knowledge and expertise. So the council reversed itself and decided Kianna could continue to work as Jonas’s assistant. If he took on a second assistant to help keep an eye on Kianna and to replace her completely if it became necessary for her to leave in the future. And if Kianna would agree to undergo periodic medical scans and regular psychotherapy appointments — as well as taking a number of psychopharmaceuticals to “stabilize” her mental condition.

Sometimes Jonas thought the damned drugs were doing more harm to her than the Goa’uld possession itself had. They made her sleepy, drained her energy and made it more difficult for her to concentrate. And though the therapy seemed to be helping somewhat it, along with the pills, didn’t seem to be making a dent in the terrible nightmares Kianna experienced each night. She refused to tell Jonas what they were about, and he didn’t wish to pry, but he gathered that whatever the dreams centered around, they were bad.

He remembered something Sam had said during their first communication that day.

Have you considered that this project might be too high-stress for Kianna right now? Maybe it would be best if she took some time off to recover.

Not for the first time, Jonas wondered if he’d done the right thing by arguing so strongly to keep Kianna on the project. But despite the effects of her medications, despite her continuing struggle with the nightmares, Kianna was still producing high-quality work, and if it hadn’t been for the technical knowledge imprinted on her mind by her Goa’uld host they never would’ve gotten as far as they had as swiftly as they had. So far, everything had worked out to the project’s benefit. He just hoped he wasn’t doing a disservice to Kianna, wasn’t cold-bloodedly using her to achieve a greater good. He remembered a quote he’d learned from an Earth philosopher named Niccolo Machiavelli: The ends justify the means. Jonas didn’t believe that. At least, he didn’t want to believe that. But the stakes were so high…

Before he or Rahil could say anything more, the iron door to the lab grated as it slid open to emit Kianna Cyr.

She was an elegantly lean woman with short straight blond hair, and aquiline features that gave her a distinctive beauty. She wore a light blue tunic similar to Jonas’s and Rahil’s, though hers was a touch rumpled, as if she hadn’t had a clean one available and had been forced to raid her laundry hamper to find something to wear. The door closed behind her and sealed shut as she entered, and she jumped a little at the sound it made. She looked embarrassed but didn’t say anything. Kianna wasn’t the sort to make excuses for her behavior, even given the extenuating circumstances she was currently suffering through. Jonas respected and admired her for that.

“Good afternoon, Jonas — Rahil.” She nodded to the two men as she walked over to join them next to Rahil’s computer console. She moved with exaggerated deliberation, as if she had to concentrate on every step she took in order to keep her balance, a result of her medication, Jonas guessed. Seeing her move like this always made him feel a pang of sadness. He remembered the lithe, graceful way she’d moved when the Goa’uld had been in possession of her body, and he couldn’t help noting the difference. And he couldn’t help but feel somewhat ashamed that he’d been attracted to her — or rather, to her body — when the Goa’uld had been operating it.

He remembered a kiss they’d shared aboard the deep excavation vehicle when they were prepping it for the mission to neutralize the unstable naquadria vein. Remembered Kianna’s soft lips and warm breath — her body, but controlled by the Goa’uld symbiote inside, a puppet master working the strings.

“Hello, Kianna,” Rahil said. “You’re looking…well today.”

Rahil’s pause clearly indicated the man was lying, and doing a poor job of it, too.

Kianna acknowledged Rahil’s comment with a weak smile before turning to face Jonas.

“On the way here, I was thinking that I’d like to go over the figures on the naquadria cell’s projected power output based on the latest round of simulations. I had an… idea about how we might be able to increase the cell’s efficiency by an additional two percent.”

Jonas noted the way Kianna had hesitated before saying idea, and he understood what that meant. Her notion on increasing power efficiency hadn’t come from Kianna, but rather from the ghost of the Goa’uld’s persona that still haunted her mind.

Jonas gave her a smile that he hoped wasn’t pitying or patronizing. “That sounds good.”

“Allow me to bring up the data in question,” Rahil said. He minimized his work screen, and a few keystrokes later the information they needed was up on the monitor. Rahil stepped aside and gestured toward the console. “It’s all yours, Kianna.”

The smile she gave Rahil was more confident this time. She had to walk past Jonas to reach the console, and as she passed, her hand accidentally brushed his. The contact was momentary and slight, but Kianna recoiled as if she’d been hit with an electric shock. She took a frantic step away from Jonas before catching herself.

“I’m sorry, Jonas! I didn’t — I don’t…”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jonas said. “Let’s just get to work, all right?”

Kianna looked at him, holding his gaze longer than was comfortable. He had the impression that she was searching for something within his eyes, but he had no idea what it might be. Then, without another word, Kianna looked away and stepped up to the computer console and began typing.

Rahil looked at Jonas with a raised eyebrow, and Jonas gave a slight shake of his head to tell Rahil not to worry about it. The three of them gathered around the monitor and continued with the work of trying to keep their world safe.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Well, this looks…dull.”

The four members of SG-1 stood several meters away from the Stargate, taking in their new surroundings. A MALP had already been sent through the gate to do an initial recon of the area, as was standard procedure, so the team had already seen video images of this world. But Sam knew from long experience that there was a big difference in viewing a world on a flat screen and actually stepping onto it physically for the first time.

Still, Sam couldn’t disagree with O’Neill’s assessment. The slate gray of the sky was relieved only by a few wispy clouds, and the temperature was in the low fifties. The team wore green BDUs, SG vests, and heavy jackets, as well as caps, all of which should’ve provided enough warmth. Nevertheless, Sam felt a slight chill that she knew was probably more psychological than physical. This place just looked cold.

“Don’t get me wrong,” O’Neill said. “I like dull. Dull is safe. Dull doesn’t shoot energy blasts at you or try to suck out your brain when you aren’t looking.”

The Stargate and its DHD were set atop a stone dais on a small grassy hill. The surrounding terrain was similar — grass-covered hills dotted with trees stretching for miles, though the growth was too sparse for this to be considered forest land. Off in the distance were snow-covered mountain peaks, which only reinforced the feeling that this was a cold, unwelcoming planet. Then again, they’d been here for a few moments and no one had tried to kill them yet. That was a better than some welcomes they’d received upon stepping through a gate.

“The trees are interesting,” Daniel said.

“If by interesting you mean not interesting, then I agree,” said O’Neill.

“They’re Earth species,” Daniel continued. “Spruce, ash, elm, birch, pine. All types found in Scandinavia.” When O’Neill just looked at him, Daniel added, “You know — Viking land?”

O’Neill nodded. “Gotcha.”

“We have encountered Earth trees on other worlds before,” Teal’c said. “Throughout history, humans who traveled through the Chaapa’ai — whether willingly or not — often brought animals and plants with them.”

“True,” Daniel said. “I guess my point is that the trees would seem to prove this world does have some connection to the Norse peoples of Earth.”

“But not necessarily the Asgard,” O’Neill pointed out. “Unless you can spot a tree equipped with a hyperdrive engine, or maybe a transporter device…?”

Daniel smiled. “I’m afraid a closer inspection is needed before I can make that particular determination.”

O’Neill leaned his head forward and peered at Daniel’s glasses. “Really? When’s the last time you had your prescription checked?” He pulled back. “Let’s move out, people. There’s a Simpsons marathon going on this weekend I don’t want to miss, so the sooner we finish our recon and get back to Earth, the better.”

They headed out from the Stargate, O’Neill and Teal’c in the middle, Sam on O’Neill’s left, Daniel on Teal’c’s right. O’Neill and Sam carried their P90s slung across their chests, prepared to fire if trouble should show itself. Teal’c’s right hand hung relaxed near his holstered zat, ready to draw it swiftly should the need arise, and even Daniel — who remained at heart a scholar instead of a warrior — kept his hand near his Beretta 92R pistol. They’d all had enough experience exploring unknown worlds to know that, despite O’Neill’s earlier words, just because a planet appeared peaceful and boring didn’t mean it was. In fact, in their line of work, it hardly ever meant it was.

They’d arrived on this world — which Sam was already beginning to think of as Valhalla — not long after sunrise. She’d hoped that the day’s gray gloom might dissipate somewhat as the sun rose higher in the sky, but if anything, it seemed that the sky only became darker and grayer.

After they’d traveled a quarter hour without incident, Teal’c spoke.

“There are no signs of life on this world.” The Jaffa made this pronouncement in a solemn tone. Well, Sam thought, more solemn than usual.

The hills in this area were more pronounced than around the Stargate, and the trees here sparser.

“True, we haven’t seen any indication of settlements,” Daniel said, “but they’re often built some distance away from Stargates as a security precaution. You never know who or what might pop through for an unannounced visit.”

“I was not speaking of human life,” Teal’c said evenly. “I was referring to other types of life — beyond the vegetation we have thus far seen, that is. So far we have encountered no animals, run across no tracks or spore. There are no birds perched on tree branches or flying in the sky, and we have heard no birdsong. Or for that matter, no insects.”

“Well, I don’t mind the absence of spore,” O’Neill said. “I hate having to scrape it off my boots. But I noticed the same thing, Teal’c. And I might not have gotten an A in high school biology, but if I remember right, no animals, no birds, and no insects usually means no plants. But this place has trees.” O’Neill stopped, walked over to an ash tree, and knocked on its trunk. He turned back to his team. “Seems real enough.”

Daniel looked to Sam, and she looked right back at him. They had the most scientific training of the team, and though they came from very different backgrounds and disciplines, they both found it useful to bounce ideas off each other, regardless of whether or not the problem they were trying to solve fell under their respective areas of expertise.

“It’s possible the gate on this world isn’t functioning properly,” Sam said. “Not enough to cause us any difficulty getting here — or getting home,” she hastened to add. “But it might be putting out a signal on a frequency humans can’t detect, but which disturbs the local animal life and causes them to keep their distance.”

“Which would mean there are animals on this world,” Daniel said. “Just not in the immediate vicinity.” He frowned. “But would such a signal affect insects as well?”

Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s just a theory.”

Daniel smiled. “Aren’t they all?”

O’Neill grimaced. “If you two eggheads are done with your logic love fest, let’s —” He was interrupted by the sound of a horn off in the distance. “I’d call that a sign of life.”

“Indeed.”

“Sounded like some kind of hunting call,” Daniel said.

“Or a call to arms,” Sam suggested.

Teal’c nodded toward a large grassy hill less than a quarter mile away. “I believe the sound originated from that direction.”

“Let’s move out, people,” O’Neill said. “Double-time.”

Daniel groaned. “I hate double-time.”

They started jogging toward the hill, all of their senses on high alert and weapons at the ready. There was no reason to suspect they might be running toward danger, but then again, there was no reason to think they weren’t. Whatever lay in wait for them on the other side of the hill, if it started shooting, SG-1 was prepared to return fire.

At times like these, Sam always experienced conflicting emotions. A steely calm came over her, the result of her military training and numerous battle experiences — both on Earth and off. She knew that at any moment she might have to start fighting for her life and the lives of her teammates, and she accepted that. But she also felt rising excitement as the team rushed forward to confront the unknown. Yes, many times what they found waiting for them was horrible and all-too-deadly, but SG-1 had encountered their share of awe-inspiring sights in their travels throughout the galaxy. What new wonder might they encounter this time? A lost civilization? Ancient forgotten ruins? Technologies so advanced that the team could scarcely have imagined their existence? Sam believed in SGC’s mission with all her mind and heart, and she’d devoted her life to protecting the galaxy and its inhabitants from foes such as the Goa’uld. But it was moments like this one — when exhilaration, anticipation, and terror fused into a single emotion for which there was no word — that Sam felt most alive.

As the team approached the top of the hill, the horn sounded once more, the note longer this time. They slowed as they neared the summit and got down on their stomachs so that they wouldn’t be seen — or be shot at — as they peered over the top.

The hill looked out upon a grass-covered valley in which two separate groups of men had gathered. They were garbed similarly in mail vests, helms, tunics, leggings, and boots, and they carried similar weapons: swords, axes, spears, and wooden shields. But they were different in two obvious ways. The men in one group all had blond hair, while the men in the second group had fiery red hair. And the redheads stood on average a good one to two feet taller than their blond counterparts.

“Definitely life,” O’Neill said softly.

“I estimate four hundred warriors in total,” Teal’c said, also speaking softly so as not to give their position away. “Roughly two hundred on each side.”

“The warriors are interesting enough,” Daniel said, “but what do you make of her?”

The other three looked in the direction Daniel pointed. In the middle of the valley, equidistant from both armies — for that’s what they were, Sam realized — a woman sat upon the back of a white winged horse. She held a primitive horn, the kind made from an actual animal’s horn, up to her lips.

“A horse with wings,” O’Neill said. “Now there’s something you don’t see every day.”

“She’s a valkyrie,” Daniel said in disbelief. “One of Odin’s handmaidens, the choosers of the slain who are deemed worthy of entering Valhalla.”

The woman’s hair was so blonde it was almost white, and it seemed to shine as if possessed of some luminescent quality. Her hair fell in long braids down her back, and she was garbed in golden battle armor designed to follow and accentuate her feminine form. Sam wasn’t impressed. The armor might look good, but it was terribly impractical design when it came to battle.

The valkyrie raised the horn to her lips once more and this time when she sounded the horn, the noise echoed throughout the valley, making the earth tremble. The vibrations reverberated through the hillside, and Sam felt her teeth rattle. Whatever that horn was made of, one thing was sure: it was no primitive artifact.

When the last echo of the horn blast faded, the valkyrie lowered her horn, and the air around the battle maiden and her steed began to ripple in a way that reminded Sam of heat distortion. An instant later, the valkyrie and her winged horse had vanished.

And as if the valkyrie’s disappearance was their cue, the two armies let loose with fierce battle cries and began running across the valley toward each other, weapons raised, bloodlust in their eyes.

“Damn it,” O’Neill muttered. “I wanted to see the horse fly.”

The red-headed warriors’ longer strides helped them cover ground faster, and they were more than halfway across the battlefield by the time the blond warriors reached them. The two armies collided and engaged each other without a hint of military discipline. It was more like a street fight than warfare, Sam thought, with two rival gangs determined to inflict as much damage on their enemy by whatever means possible, fair or foul. Swords clanged against swords, axes bit into wooden shields, spears thrust into mail armor, and all the while the warriors shouted in savage joy, not bothering to save their breath and energy for fighting. Blood began to flow at once, and men — both blond and red-headed — started to fall. The wounded were immediately dispatched without any hint of mercy, sometimes by their own men.

“They fight without honor,” Teal’c said, his tone tight with disgust. “This is nothing but mindless slaughter.”

“The ancient Norse didn’t really have any battle strategies per se,” Daniel said. “They relied on strength, savagery, and speed to carry the day. It works well if all you’re doing is raiding unsuspecting villages, but it’s not so effective if you’re fighting another armed force of equal numbers and skill, let alone if you’re facing an enemy with a greater number of warriors who are better trained than yours.”

They watched the battle continue for several moments more before Daniel went on.

“It’s interesting. Both groups appear to be descendents of ancient Norse warriors, but the redheads are much taller than the blond-hairs, and they have broader shoulders and thicker, well-muscled limbs.”

“So the redheads eat all their veggies,” O’Neill said. “So what?”

“Well, in Norse mythology the villains were giants from the land of Jotunheim. It occurs to me that maybe the redheaded warriors have some connection to that legend.”

Sam had witnessed — and taken part in — more battles than she could remember, but she had to agree with Teal’c. These weren’t warriors out of ancient myth; they were thugs, and this wasn’t a battle — it was killing for the sake of killing, for the sick joy of it.

She turned to O’Neill. “We should do something about this, sir.”

“What do you suggest, Carter?” he asked. “Not only isn’t this our fight, we have no way of knowing which side are the good guys and which are the bad guys. Hell, from the way they’re going at it, they might all be bad guys. And while we have some pretty cool toys to wow the natives with, we are — as I’m sure you noticed — kind of outnumbered.”

“I agree we can’t engage them in battle,” Sam said, “but if we could get the warriors to stop fighting, maybe we could sort out what the dispute is and help them settle it peacefully.”

Daniel jumped in. “Sam, you know I’m usually the first person to argue for a peaceful alternative to conflict, but I don’t think those guys are exactly in the mood to talk right now.”

“And it’s possible that we could make matters worse by interfering,” Teal’c said. “Our mission is to search for signs of Asgard technology, not settle a local dispute.”

“What we should do,” O’Neill began, “is head on back to the gate, go home, let this battle blow over, then come back later and make contact with whoever survives — assuming anyone does, that is.”

“You’re probably right, sir,” Sam said. She gave O’Neill a grim smile. “But we’re going down there anyway, aren’t we?”

O’Neill sighed as he rose to his feet. “Yeah. If we can get them to stop fighting and play nice, maybe they’ll tell us what we need to know about this planet.” He frowned. “Besides, I’m still mad about that horse.” He racked the slide on his P90 and started walking casually down the hill. The other team members quickly stood and hurried to join him.

At first the battling warriors paid no attention to the approaching newcomers, but then by ones and twos, heads started to turn in their direction. SG-1’s arrival proved costly for the curious warriors, as they were almost immediately cut down by an opponent eager to take advantage of their distraction. Sam felt a twist of nausea in her gut, and she wondered if Teal’c had been right. Maybe they were making things worse by interfering.

O’Neill fired off a ratcheting burst of gunfire from his p90, aiming over the warriors’ heads. About half of the warriors stopped fighting and turned toward the team to see what had made the sound. A second burst from O’Neill’s weapon caught the rest of their attention. The fighting stopped, and every warrior — redhead and blond-haired — stared as the SG-1 team drew near the battlefield.

Now that the surviving warriors were still, Sam could take stock of the dead and dying. At a quick estimate, she guessed that a total of fifty men from both sides lay wounded or dead on the ground. The battle had been going on for only a few moments. How much longer would it have taken for the two armies to eradicate each other completely? Thirty minutes? Less? If the team had arrived an hour later, would they have found nothing but a field covered with hundreds of blood-splattered corpses?

“Sorry to break up the fun,” O’Neill said, “but I gotta call a technical foul on that last play. Illegal use of a mythological figure.”

The team looked at O’Neill, and he shrugged. “All right, so maybe it wasn’t exactly illegal, but you have to admit it displayed a serious lack of style. I mean, you got a horse with wings and the best you can do with it is make it go pfft?”

The team kept walking until they were within a dozen yards of the closest warriors. The two armies watched them warily, but made no move to attack. Which, Sam thought, was a Very Good Thing. Now that the team was here, she was beginning to have her doubts about coming down from their hiding place on the hill. There were still around three hundred and fifty warriors alive on the field, and they might just temporarily put aside their differences to deal with the newcomers who’d so rudely interrupted their war. And given the savagery with which the warriors fought, Sam doubted two P90s, a couple zat guns, and a pair of Berettas would so much as give the warriors pause if they chose to attack the team.

O’Neill turned to Daniel. “You speak Viking by any chance?”

“I can read it well enough,” Daniel said. “But speaking’s a different matter entirely. Old Norse is extremely similar to modern Icelandic, but there’s the matter of accent and specific dialect…” He trailed off. “I’ll try. What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You could misspeak, anger the warriors, and incite them to attack,” Teal’c said calmly.

“I suppose there is that,” Daniel admitted.

O’Neill clapped Daniel on the back. “No pressure, Daniel. Just remember that our lives are in your hands — or maybe in your mouth.” He frowned. “Whatever, just get talking.”

Daniel took a step forward, making sure to keep his hands away from his Beretta, palms turned outward to show he held no weapons. Sam expected the words Daniel spoke would be gruff and harsh, much like she imagined the Vikings themselves to be, but the words that came out of his mouth were surprisingly soft and smooth-sounding, almost musical.

When Daniel finished speaking, he translated for the rest of the team.

“I told them we’re travelers and that we wish to speak with their commanders.”

O’Neill looked at Daniel. “You’re kidding. You asked them to take us to their leader?”

“Seemed like a good idea at the time,” Daniel said.

At first, the warriors’ only reaction to Daniel’s words was to scowl and clutch their weapons more tightly — not a good sign, Sam thought — but then two men detached themselves from the mass of warriors and came striding toward them. One was a blond-haired man who by Earth standards was a tall, powerful-looking individual. But the other was a redheaded giant who stood easily over seven feet tall, maybe closer to eight, and his arms and legs were thick and solid-looking as tree branches. Despite the giant’s size, he moved with the graceful confidence and coiled menace of a jungle cat. His long matted hair and unkempt beard were much redder than those of his men, so red it almost hurt to look at them. Even his cold, calculating eyes seemed red-tinted, though Sam thought that was likely an illusion. His eyes just seemed red because of that hair of his. All in all, the giant commander was someone Sam would prefer not to meet in single combat, thank you very much.

Both warriors carried swords, the weapons held at their sides, blood dripping from the metal onto the grass. They made no move to raise their swords, but neither did they sheathe them. The two men stopped when they were within two yards of the SG-1 team, and they made sure to keep the same amount of distance between each other. Not so close that they could be easily attacked, Sam guessed, but not so far away as to show cowardice. A slight breeze was blowing, and it brought the smell of the warrior’s rank body odor to Sam’s nose. She was no stranger to the smell of men’s and women’s bodies during combat, but this smell was so thick you’d have had trouble cutting it with a micron laser. Maybe the giant had some kind of hormonal condition that caused the horrendous body odor? Whatever the reason for it, Sam decided to breathe through her mouth as long as the warriors remained close by.

The two warrior commanders glanced at one another darkly before turning their attention to Daniel. They said nothing, and it soon became clear they were waiting for him to speak again.

Daniel obliged the two commanders by saying several more words in old Norse, along with a smattering of English words. Sam caught the names of the SG-1 team, as well as the word Earth. From their facial expressions, it appeared the commanders understood what Daniel said, but neither made an effort to reply.

“What did you tell them?” O’Neill asked.

“Not much,” Daniel said. “I told them our names and that we came here from a place called Earth. I asked who they were and why they’re fighting. Maybe my pronunciation was off.”

“Or maybe these two guys are just rude jerks who don’t like answering questions,” O’Neill said. He turned to face the two commanders. “Come on, you heard my friend. Who are you and why are you out here determined to cut each other into Viking nuggets?”

The red-headed warrior glared at O’Neill and then pointed to his P90.

“What is that thing you carry? It speaks with a sound like the hammer of Thor.”

The giant’s voice was deep and sonorous, but the words he spoke, though heavily accented, were clearly English.

O’Neill glanced at Daniel, but Daniel just shrugged. The message was clear: he had no idea why the giant could speak English. O’Neill turned back to the giant.

“Well, Thor is a friend of mine, but this isn’t a hammer. Though I suppose it does hit like one. It’s an FN P90 submachine gun, sometimes called the Grin Gun because it makes you grin when you see how much damage it can do.”

The giant held out his hand. “I would see it.”

“Sorry,” O’Neill said. “You didn’t say the magic word. Hell, even if you had said the magic word, I wouldn’t have handed it over to you. I’m not stupid, you know.”

The giant’s brow furrowed into a truly impressive scowl, and his ham-sized hand tightened on the hilt of his sword. “I could take it from you if I wished.”

“Really, Surtr?” the blond-haired commander said, sounding amused. His voice was a pleasant tenor, and he too spoke English with what Sam assumed was a Norse accent. “The weapon is clearly enchanted. Do you truly think that even with all your strength and speed you would be able to grab hold of it before it was used to strike you down?”

The giant shot the other commander a venomous look. “Don’t judge me by your own weakness, Baldr the Small. If I want something, I take it, and no one can stop me!”

Baldr laughed. “I can remember doing just that many times on this very field! Have your forgotten? I find it difficult to believe that such a long man has such a short memory!” He laughed again.

Surtr was clearly not amused. He spun around and swung his sword — a broadsword which he wielded one-handed — in a vicious strike designed to take off Baldr’s head. But the smaller warrior simply ducked beneath the strike, and the blade sliced through the air above him harmlessly. Baldr straightened but made no move to counterattack.

“Peace, Surtr — at least until we see what these strangers want.”

Sam watched the interplay between the two Norse warriors with growing bemusement. Surtr and Baldr weren’t acting like two men who only moments ago were dead-set on killing one another — or at least, Baldr wasn’t. Instead they seemed more like competitors than enemies, and Sam had the strange feeling that what she and her fellow teammates had interrupted was more akin to a playground basketball game than a fierce, no-holds-barred battle to the death. But she couldn’t quite bring herself to believe that, not with all the dead and dying warriors spread across the valley floor.

Surtr glared at SG-1. “These strangers haven’t earned the right to so much as step onto this most holy of battlefields, let alone address either of us. The lowliest of thralls has more right to be here than they do. Besides, none of them look as if they could stand up to even the weakest of your Vanir, Baldr!” The giant spat into the grass to underscore his contempt.

If Baldr took any insult from Surtr’s remarks, he didn’t show it. “What of the shorn one? He has the seeming of a warrior in my eyes.”

“Shorn one?” O’Neill said.

“I believe Baldr refers to my shaven head,” Teal’c said.

“That I do, my friend!” Baldr said with a grin. He then turned to Surtr. “What say you, Firebeard? Shall we grant the shorn one the honor of facing one of us in battle so that he might win for his people the right to speak with us as equals?”

“I don’t know,” Surtr said. He eyed Teal’c suspiciously. “What is that symbol on his forehead? Is he some sort of troll or an elf, perhaps?”

Teal’c scowled, and Sam had to suppress a smile at the thought that anyone could mistake the Jaffa warrior for an elf.

“Now wait a minute!” O’Neill said. “We didn’t come down here to fight you!”

Surtr turned his attention to O’Neill, and though Sam wasn’t sure, she could’ve sworn the giant’s eyes flashed red for an instant.

“No?” Surtr said. “Are you telling us that you four are cowards?” His lips pulled back from his teeth in a feral expression that could only be charitably deemed a smile. “Would you like to know what happens to cowards on this field?”

“Thanks, but no explanation is necessary,” O’Neill said. “Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s extremely painful and messy.”

Surtr’s only response was to grin wider.

Daniel stepped close to O’Neill. “Assuming these men are some sort of descendents of Norse warriors, who for some inexplicable reason know how to speak English, bravery in battle is what they respect the most. There may be no other way to establish relations with them other than to accept their offer of ritual combat.” Daniel lowered his voice. “Look at it this way, Jack: they could’ve ordered their men to attack us straight away, knowing that we’d surely fall to their superior numbers. They aren’t interested in killing us — at least, not right away. They want to test us.”

Teal’c spoke then, but he kept his gaze on the two commanders. “I am willing to accept their challenge, O’Neill.” The Jaffa warrior’s tone remained calm but there was steel in his words.

“Maybe so,” O’Neill said, “but I’m in command here, so if anyone’s going to fight one of them, it’s going to be me.”

Baldr and Surtr looked at O’Neill for a moment, and then the two Norsemen burst out laughing.

O’Neill grimaced. “I could cut both of those bozos in half with my P90 if I wanted, you know.”

“Of course,” Teal’c said. The Jaffa removed his zat gun and handed it to Daniel, and then took off his jacket and handed it to Sam. “But this is a different kind of battle, and it calls for a different kind of strategy.”

“What strategy?” O’Neill said. “You saw how these guys fight. It’s all about them wailing on each other until one or the other of them falls down dead.”

Teal’c removed his vest and handed it to O’Neill. His mouth was set in a determined line, and an anticipatory gleam came into his gaze.

“Indeed.”

“So you accept?” Baldr asked. When Teal’c inclined his head in acknowledgement, Baldr said, “Excellent! And which of us will you choose to face in combat, shorn one?”

“Surtr.”

“Now why did I know you were going to say that?” O’Neill muttered.

“You can’t expect our friend to face you unarmed!” Daniel said. “At least give him a weapon!”

Teal’c raised his hands and curled them into fists. “These are all the weapons I need, Daniel Jackson.”

“You wish to fight me hand to hand?” Surtr said. “You are surely mad, elf!” The giant thought for a moment and then finally shrugged. “Very well. My people sometimes test ourselves against each other without weapons, though we do so mostly as a form of amusement — a way to pass the time or teach our children the rudiments of battle.” He smiled. “And since you are but a child when compared to me, it seems only appropriate we fight like children.”

“That is no insult to me,” Teal’c said with a grim smile, “for you have not seen Jaffa children at play.”

Surtr looked at Teal’c for a long moment before finally giving him a curt nod. “Then let us prepare.”

CHAPTER FIVE

Jonas walked down the corridor toward the chamber of Langara’s recently formed Joint Ruling Council, a binder tucked beneath his arm containing the latest progress reports on both the Array and the naquadria power cell. He felt a headache coming on, and it grew worse with every step closer he took.

Two armed guards were stationed outside the council chamber, but the man and woman barely took note of his presence as he drew near. They merely stood by and waited for the security system to run its check on Jonas. As he approached, the sensors built into the chamber’s metal door registered his presence, scanned him silently, verified his identity, checked his arrival against the council’s agenda to make certain he was expected, and finally slid open. Jonas knew how the system worked because he’d helped design it. It could be a bit of a pain, especially if was running slow and you had to wait for the door to open — or worse, when an occasional glitch caused the sensors’ computer to accidentally delete your appointment — but Jonas had made sure that the system also functioned as an effective security measure for the council. While relations between the three major nations on Langara had progressed to the point that their leaders no longer feared outright assassination, old habits died hard, as they said on Earth, and the security sensors made the three councilors feel better. Jonas didn’t care about their feelings, but after what had happened with Kianna, he did care about making sure no more off-world spies — Goa’uld or otherwise — could reach the ruling council.

Jonas nodded to the guards as he entered the council chamber. The door slid shut a bit too quickly behind him, almost nipping his rear.

Better have someone check that out. As it was, the councilors’ noses were usually out of joint about one thing or another and it wouldn’t do to have their posteriors injured in the bargain.

Smiling at the thought, Jonas regarded the councilors seated before him.

As with everything relating to the Joint Ruling Council, its chamber was the end result of many long, drawn-out debates and uneasy compromises. There was an Earth word that suited it perfectly: Spartan. There were thick, weapons-fire proof windows just as in Jonas’s lab, but no curtains. The wood-paneled walls were a rich brown, but no pictures or paintings hung upon them. The tiled floor was bare of carpeting, and the tile itself was a bland gray that reminded Jonas of an Earth breakfast food called oatmeal, for which he’d never managed to develop a taste. The chamber was well illuminated by ceiling panels that gave off sufficient light, but did nothing to add warmth to the roof. The Councilors’ U-shaped meeting table was constructed from the same wood as the wall paneling, and while its surface was highly polished, it looked as bland as everything else in the chamber, its top bare save for the councilors’ open laptop computers, their papers, writing instruments, and beverage mugs. The table was large and dominated the council chamber, but its size had nothing do with the councilors’ wish to impress those who visited them and everything to do with the fact that they wanted to keep as much distance between each other as possible. The trio sat spread apart: one in the middle of the U, the other two on the sides. From what Jonas understood they’d devised a rotating schedule so that no one member would spend more time sitting in the middle of the U — the most prestigious spot, Jonas assumed — than any other.

The fact that the members of the Joint Ruling Council couldn’t even agree on décor for their meeting chamber spoke volumes about them.

“Good afternoon, Councilors,” he said and received three nods of greeting in return.

Jonas had to fight to keep from sighing. The Councilors’ silence was never a good sign. It usually meant they’d been fighting only moments before. And if they were already in a foul mood, that didn’t bode well for how this meeting was going to go.

He wished he’d had the foresight to take something for his headache before leaving the lab.

There were chairs between the Council members, and Jonas took the one closest to First Minister Dreylock, the representative of Kelowna. Not because he particularly favored her, though Kelowna was his home nation, but because she became irritated if he appeared to show favor to the other two Councilors. And since neither Lucia Tarthus or Vin Eremal seemed comfortable if he sat too close to them, Jonas played along, though he didn’t enjoy further enabling the already far too dysfunctional Council.

As he sat, he wondered if other planets had this much trouble with their governments.

Jonas placed his binder on the table in front of him, opened it to the latest set of data, and forced a smile. “Where would you like to begin?”

“You can close the binder,” First Minister Dreylock said. “You won’t be needing it.”

Jonas frowned. Dreylock wore a muted tan suit and was a handsome, if somewhat severe-looking woman in her fifties. She usually kept herself so completely composed that it was difficult to read her emotions, and this afternoon was no different, though Jonas thought her lips were pressed together a bit tighter than usual, her eyes a touch narrower. Dreylock was definitely not, as O’Neill might have put it, a “happy camper.”

Before Jonas could ask what was going on, Vin Eremal of Tirania spoke.

“We assume that the status of both the naquadria power cell and the planetary defense Array are not significantly different than when you last reported to us.”

Eremal was a handsome black man with a salt-and-pepper beard. He tended toward a dour disposition, and the dark blue suit he wore seemed to fit him for that reason, if no other.

“That’s correct, Councilor.” Then why bother summoning me here? The third member of the Langaran Joint Ruling Council was Lucia Tarthus of the Andari Federation. Her white suit stood in stark contrast to her red hair, and she might have been pretty if her sharp facial features weren’t perpetually contorted in an expression of simmering anger.

As if she’d read Jonas’s mind, Tarthus said, “We’ve summoned you here because we wish to inform you that we’ve made a decision regarding the Array.”

Jonas felt a surge of panic. Surely the Council hadn’t decided to cut funding for the project! Kelowna was still rebuilding after the damage done to the region by the quakes caused by the unstable naquadria vein, but the Councilors had assured him the funds would be made available for the Array and the naquadria power cell, regardless of what other —

Dreylock broke in on his thoughts. “The three of us are well satisfied with your work, Jonas, and we believe we’re ready to take the next step.”

It took Jonas a moment to shift gears mentally. “Surely you aren’t suggesting we begin full-scale testing!”

“That’s precisely what we’re suggesting,” Eremal said.

“We are in complete agreement on this,” Tarthus added.

“I think I liked the three of you better when you argued all the time.”

From the Councilors’ shocked expressions, Jonas might well have just made a very loud noise of gastrointestinal origin. “Look, I don’t mean to speak so bluntly… Well, maybe I do,” Jonas said. “Believe me when I tell you that there’s no one on Langara who appreciates seeing you cooperate more than I do, but we’re simply not ready to begin full-scale tests.”

Dreylock fixed him with an icy stare. “That’s not what your last report to us indicated.”

Jonas ran his hand through his hair in a sign of frustration. “It’s true that the Array itself is theoretically capable of functioning, though at this point it could only protect about two thirds of the planet. But yes, we could activate it and put it through its paces, though I don’t see what the rush is. Another couple months and the Array will be completed, and more importantly, we’ll have had time to perfect the naquadria power cell. If you could just be patient a little longer…”

“Patience may be a virtue,” Eremal said, “but in our case it could well end up proving to be a deadly one. So far, we have been fortunate, and there are currently no signs the System Lord Ba’al intends to come here and raid our world for its supply of naquadria.”

“But there is no assurance he will not,” Tarthus added.

Dreylock spoke next. “During the incident with the unstable naquadria vein, you and Samantha Carter discovered that naquadria is not a naturally occurring substance. Rather, it had been created by the System Lord Thanos when he occupied our planet thousands of years ago. Langara is only planet in the galaxy that contains naquadria deposits, and it is the Council’s concern that one or more System Lords will inevitably learn of the existence of naquadria and covet its power for themselves.”

“I agree that’s a very real possibility,” Jonas said, “which was why I began working on the planetary defense Array in the first place. But we can’t allow our fears to goad us into taking unwarranted risks. Haven’t we learned anything from the naquadria incident? The unstable vein was made a thousand times worse because of Kelowna’s testing of the naquadria bomb. We acted then without knowing enough about the forces we were playing with, and it nearly resulted in our planet’s destruction.”

Councilors Eremal and Tarthus scowled at Dreylock. They still blamed Kelowna — and Dreylock specifically — for the near deadly results of the naquadria bomb test.

Dreylock ignored the glares of her fellow Councilors as she responded to Jonas. “Your points are not without merit, but this is an entirely different situation. We know Ba’al sent a Goa’uld operative to learn about our naquadria. We know the System Lords’ thirst for power is unquenchable. If Langara is to have any hope of protecting itself against galactic predators such as the System Lords, we must have a functioning planetary defense system!”

“And the sooner we have it, the better,” Tarthus said. “We came far too close to the brink of destruction during the naquadria incident.”

“We were not prepared to cope with a crisis on a planet-wide scale then,” Eremal said. “We have decided that Langara shall never be caught unprepared again.”

Jonas looked at each Councilor in turn, trying to read their expressions. Something was going on here, something more than just a desire to ensure the safety of the Langaran people. A moment later, he had it.

“I get it. During the naquadria incident, Stargate Command offered to help relocate our planet’s population to another world, but not only couldn’t the three of you stop bickering about whether to accept the offer, you kept trying to put conditions on it. Eventually, SGC had enough of your sniping and the offer was withdrawn. That must have been extremely embarrassing for you. There you were, the three most powerful people of your world, being called out for acting like squabbling children. I have no doubt that you’re all sincere in your desire to protect Langara now, but that’s not what’s driving you to push for early testing of the Array. You’re determined not to be embarrassed again. You’ll do anything to avoid having to go crawling back to Stargate Command and asking for help if Ba’al or someone like him shows up sniffing around for our naquadria. Isn’t that right?”

The Councilors didn’t answer, but they didn’t have to. The expressions on their faces were more than answer enough.

Dreylock leaned toward Jonas, her eyes cold as ice. “We allow you certain… liberties when you speak to us, Jonas, because our people have need of your scientific knowledge and skills. But make no mistake: we are the rulers of Langara, not you. The majority of work on the Array is done, so at this point your expertise is not as vital to the completion of the project as it was in the beginning. You will do as we tell you — you will begin testing the Array and the naquadria cell immediately. And if you don’t, you will simply be replaced.” Her lips stretched in a thin humorless smile. “Who knows? Perhaps Rahil would welcome the opportunity for advancement. Do you understand?”

Jonas gritted his teeth. He knew the Council was making a mistake, but he served at their discretion. If he didn’t do as they wished, they’d make good on their threat and find someone who would. If he complied, at least he would be in charge of the tests and could monitor them closely.

“Yes, First Minister.”

Dreylock’s smile widened but grew no warmer.

“Excellent. We were confident you’d see things our way.”

When Jonas returned to the lab, he found Kianna working alone at a computer console.

“Where’s Rahil?” he snapped as he entered, and he immediately regretted his brusque tone.

“He decided to take lunch,” Kianna said. “I can go get him for you, if you want.”

“No… Thanks, though.” He sighed deeply. “Sorry about almost biting your head off. The Council has decided we’re going to begin testing the Array tomorrow — whether we like it or not.” He walked over to the one of the tables, tossing his binder onto it with more force than necessary, and it slid several inches and struck a rack of test tubes. They were empty, but the rack fell over and the tubes shattered, scattering glass fragments everywhere.

“Damn it!”

He turned to the closet where they kept cleaning supplies for the lab, but Kianna beat him to it. She grabbed a whiskbroom and dustpan, and hurried over to the table where the broken glass lay.

“You shouldn’t be doing that, Kianna,” he said, gently taking hold of her hand that held the whiskbroom. “It’s my mess, after all.”

She looked at him, her gaze tentative, even a bit scared, but she made no move to pull her hand away from his, and he made no move to release her.

“We’re a team,” Kianna said. “We pitch in wherever we’re needed.” A hint of a smile crossed her lips. “Besides, as worked up as you are right now, if I let you sweep the glass, you’d probably just end up breaking something else.”

Jonas laughed softly. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

They stood like that, looking into each other’s eyes, and without realizing he was doing so, Jonas leaned his face closer to Kianna’s. She immediately pulled away from him and several steps back, an expression close to panic on her face.

“I’m sorry,” Jonas said. “I didn’t mean —”

“Don’t say that!” Kianna said. “I… I want you to mean what you did.” She frowned. “At least, I think I do. The time I spent working with you before…when the Goa’uld…” She broke off and turned her gaze downward. “I remember everything, but it’s all like a dream. It was like I was a… a passenger in my own body, watching myself do things, say things, but unable to make any choices of my own.” She lifted her gaze and met his eyes once more. “But it wasn’t just that. I was aware of what the Goa’uld thought and felt… more than aware. I shared her thoughts, felt her feelings, almost as if they were my own.”

She took a step closer to him.

“I remember the way you kissed me… her… us in the excavation vehicle. You were so gentle, so loving…” She took another step closer and raised her hand to touch the side of his face.

Jonas remembered Kianna — or rather the symbiote inside her — reaching out to touch him in almost exactly the same fashion after he’d discovered who and what she really was. He’d recoiled then, disgusted by the thought of a Goa’uld feigning affection for him. That memory made him want to pull back now, but he didn’t, and as soon as Kianna — the real Kianna — touched him, he felt no desire to withdraw. Her fingers were warm, the skin soft, and her hand trembled slightly. He reached up and took hold of her hand, clasping it gently in order to still her trembling.

“Whatever the symbiote did or didn’t feel for you Jonas, I have come to know and admire you these last few months, and I find myself attracted to you. But I need more time to sort out what are my feelings and what are the echoes of the symbiote’s. If you could just have a little patience with me…”

Jonas smiled as he squeezed her hand gently. “Of course, Kianna. Take your time. I’m not planning on going anywhere.”

By this point, he’d worked alongside the real Kianna longer than he had the Goa’uld, and during that time he’d come to greatly admire her intelligence and strength. Recovering from the psychological aftermath of Goa’uld possession was never easy, but to do as Kianna was, to remain in the same job, working with the same people, sorting out her confused feelings toward him… Almost anyone else would’ve distanced themselves from the life their symbiote had forced them to live, but not Kianna. She was right here, day after day, confronting what had been done to her and working to come to terms with it.

Kianna Cyr was a remarkable woman, no doubt about it.

They were still holding hands when the lab door slid open and Rahil walked in. Kianna tried to pull her hand away from Jonas’s out of embarrassment, but he held onto it a moment longer. He wasn’t ashamed of how he felt about her, and he didn’t care who knew it.

One of Rahil’s eyebrows rose as he regarded the two of them.

“So… what’s up?”

Rahil stepped into his quarters, the door closing silently behind him. Everyone working on the Array and the naquadria cell — from Jonas Quinn all the way down to the humblest mechanic — had quarters in Kelowna’s Ministry of Defense building. Ostensibly the reason was to ensure maximum collaboration and productivity, but Rahil knew the truth: the Joint Ruling Council wanted to keep a close eye on everyone involved in the planetary defense project. Far from finding this restriction chafing, Rahil approved. The Langarans could be a suspicious people, almost to the point of paranoia at times, but given how dangerous the galaxy was these days, paranoia was a necessary survival trait.

Rahil passed through the main living space of his quarters and headed for his bed chamber. He sat next to the nightstand, turned on the lamp sitting atop the stand, and then opened the drawer. He reached inside, removed a small silver sphere and, with a thought, activated the device. The sphere was now transmitting false data to the surveillance equipment hidden within his quarters by the Defense Ministry. For the next half hour, the surveillance devices would record only that Rahil was taking a nap. Then with another thought Rahil activated the silver sphere’s primary function.

A female voice issued from the device. “Report.”

“Jonas Quinn was summoned by the Joint Ruling Council today.” Rahil allowed his true voice to be heard, and it now possessed an eerie echoing quality. “The Councilors informed him that tests on the Array and the naquadria power cells are to begin immediately.”

“And just how immediate is immediately?”

Rahil smiled. “Is tomorrow morning immediate enough for you?”

“As a matter of fact, it will do nicely. Have you completed the necessary adjustments to the Array?”

“For the most part. There are a few more tweaks I want to make, but since the entire project team will be working through the night to prepare for tomorrow’s test, I should have ample opportunity to finish my work — without being detected, of course.”

“Naturally. And what is your projection for tomorrow’s outcome?”

Rahil thought for a moment before responding. “I would say that I am cautiously optimistic things will work out as we’ve planned.”

“And if they don’t?”

“Jonas has a saying he’s fond of, one of a number he picked up during his time on Earth. If things don’t work out as we hope, then it’s ‘back to the drawing board.’”

The voice chuckled. “Very well. Make sure that you take another injection before tonight.” A pause. “Take an extra-strong dose. The last thing we need is for the Langarans’ sensors to discover your true nature now.”

“Agreed. You monitor the tests from your end, and I’ll report tomorrow on how things went from mine. Rahil out.”

Now that the communication link was broken, Rahil replaced the sphere in the nightstand drawer and removed a small kit. He laid it on the bed next to him and opened it to reveal a pressure hypodermic and several small vials. He selected one of the vials, inserted it into the hypo, rolled up his sleeve, pressed the hypo’s tip to the inside of his elbow, and with a touch of a switch injected a very special chemical into his body. It was a more advanced variant of one that Kianna Cyr — or rather the Goa’uld that had once possessed her body — had used to fool the sensors the Langarans had designed to detect the presence of a symbiote within a host body. Stargate Command had gotten hold of the chemical, but from what Rahil understood, the humans had yet to devise a countermeasure. And even if they had, the new variant Rahil used would still allow him to go about his work undetected.

Rahil returned the hypo to the kit, closed it, and put it back in the nightstand drawer. He then stretched out on the bed. He wasn’t weary. He possessed far more stamina than a human, but Jonas had insisted his team get a few hours rest before they embarked on what he called an “all-nighter.” Rahil decided he would use this time for meditation and to mentally go over the last changes he wanted to make to the Array before tomorrow’s test. He couldn’t help feeling a certain measure of excitement.

Tomorrow was going to be an important day for the people of Langara — perhaps the most important their race had ever known.

Rahil smiled, closed his eyes, and began mentally reviewing his plans for tonight.

CHAPTER SIX

The two armies — the blond Vanir and the red-headed Jotuns — ceased hostilities and cleared their dead and wounded off the battlefield to make room for Teal’c and Surtr. The Norsemen then formed separate half circles, the two tribes making sure to keep a fair amount of distance between them. Surtr strode into the middle of the circle with arrogant confidence. The Jotuns enthusiastically cheered for their leader, while the Vanir booed just as heartily. The Jotuns of course took umbrage at this, and for a moment it looked like fighting between the two tribes would break out anew, but both Surtr and Baldr ordered their men to keep their weapons sheathed and their comments to themselves, and while the Vikings didn’t shut up completely, they kept their voices down.

Baldr stood with the SG-1 team, a big grin on his face, as if he were a fan who’d just gotten a free ticket to a premiere of the most hotly anticipated sporting event of the season. Sam found the Norseman’s enthusiasm strange and, in truth, a bit sickening. This was hardly a game, as the piles of dead bodies on both sides testified.

To someone who didn’t know Teal’c, the Jaffa warrior would’ve appeared calm and relaxed, as if he were about to do nothing more dangerous than take a stroll through the valley. But Sam had fought at the man’s side for years, and she noted the narrow-eyed gaze Teal’c directed at Surtr, the slight tension in the Jaffa’s jaw muscles, and the deep, even way he breathed. Teal’c was prepared for combat.

O’Neill turned to Baldr. “Any tips for my friend?”

“He should try not to let Surtr catch hold of him.” Then Baldr laughed, walked over to Teal’c, clapped the Jaffa warrior on the back, and then strode across the field toward his men.

“Well, that was useful,” O’Neill muttered. He turned to Daniel. “You got anything?”

“Surtr’s obviously strong and he’s surprisingly fast given his size, but we’ve seen how these men fight. It’s typical Viking style: all strength and no finesse. Surtr should prove no different on that score.” Daniel turned to Teal’c. “A judicious application of lok’nel should do the trick.”

Though Teal’c was skilled in numerous combat techniques, he favored the martial art of lok’nel and could be quite deadly at it when he chose.

“My thoughts precisely, Daniel Jackson.” Teal’c bowed his head to his comrades and then started across the field toward Surtr.

When the Jaffa was out of earshot, O’Neill turned to Sam and Daniel. “Either of you guys want to put some money down on this?”

Sam and Daniel both looked at O’Neill. The colonel just shrugged. “What? Thought a little friendly wager might help cut the tension.”

The three comrades then followed Teal’c to the center of the field, where Surtr waited for the Jaffa, his savage grin a gleaming streak of white within his fiery beard. Teal’c stepped into the circle formed by the two tribes of warring Norsemen, and Sam, O’Neill, and Daniel found places to stand in the gap between the Vanir and Jotun.

When Teal’c had taken his place in front of Surtr, he inclined his head to his opponent — though he kept his gaze fastened on Surtr as he did so. Surtr, for his part, merely let out an animalistic grunt. Baldr stood with the Vanir, and now he took several steps into the ring.

“For the benefit of the elf and his friends, I shall explain the rules,” Baldr began. A long pause. “There are none!”

Warriors on both sides broke into laughter at that, and Baldr stepped back to join his men.

“Great,” O’Neill muttered. “We travel who knows how many thousands of light years through an interstellar transport system only to run into the galaxy’s worst stand-up comedian.”

Sam wondered if Baldr would give a signal for the match to begin, but the Vanir leader did nothing more, and an instant later Surtr launched himself at Teal’c with a roar. The giant’s long stride ate up the distance between him and the Jaffa with frightening speed, but Teal’c stood his ground and waited for Surtr to draw near. Surtr came at Teal’c with outstretched hands twice the size of a normal man’s, and Sam feared that if the giant Norseman managed to get hold of Teal’c with those mitts, the battle might be over before it even started. But just as Surtr was within a foot of Teal’c, the Jaffa spun gracefully to the left and turned just as Surtr passed through the space where only a moment before he’d been standing. Teal’c lashed out and slammed his right arm into the giant’s back. Surtr was already off-balance, and Teal’c’s blow only served to further worsen his situation. The giant stumbled, tried to regain his footing, failed, and smashed into the ground face-first.

“Timbeeeeeerrrrr!” O’Neill said, and Sam couldn’t help grinning. One point for Teal’c.

The Jotuns looked shocked, as if they couldn’t believe the “elf” had managed to trick their leader, but the Vanir warriors laughed, hooted and cheered, enjoying the sight of the enemy commander’s humiliation.

Surtr rose onto his hands and knees and spat out a mouthful of dirt and grass before rising to his feet. If this had been a fight to the death, Teal’c wouldn’t have stood by and waited for the giant to regain his footing. But this battle was about gaining the Norsemen’s respect, not about defeating a foe. Unfortunately, Sam didn’t think Surtr saw the situation in the same light.

The giant turned around to face Teal’c, his features reddening with fury. “Are you so afraid of fighting me, elf, that you must use magic to evade my grasp?”

Teal’c refused to let the taunt ruffle him. “I do not believe in magic, and even if I did, I would have no need of it — not when speed alone will suffice.”

O’Neill looked at Daniel. “Did Teal’c just tell Surtr that he’s a slow, clumsy oaf?”

“The oaf part was implied,” Daniel said, “but otherwise, I’m afraid so.”

“Ouch. That’s not going to go over well with the big guy.”

Sure enough, Surtr roared and launched himself at Teal’c once more. This time the Jaffa held his ground, and when Surtr was within his reach, he grabbed hold of the giant’s left arm at the wrist and elbow and used Surtr’s momentum to spin him around. Teal’c gave the giant a shove as he released him, and once more Surtr lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.

This time a number of Jotuns joined in with the Vanirs’ laughter.

Surtr leaped to his feet and whirled around to face the newcomer who had twice now humiliated him in front of his own men. His hands curled into fists so tight, they shook, and Sam wouldn’t have been surprised to see the knucklebones burst through the skin. And speaking of skin…

“Is it my imagination,” Sam said, “or is Surtr’s skin becoming as red as his hair?”

“You’re not imagining it,” Daniel said. “I see it, too. Weird.”

“Surtr better make an appointment to see his family doctor,” O’Neill said. “He needs to do something about that blood pressure of his.”

Daniel snapped his fingers. “Surtr! I thought I’d recognized that name. In Norse mythology, Surtr was —” But before Daniel could continue, Surtr started walking toward Teal’c, and Daniel fell silent as they waited to see what the giant’s next move would be.

“You are no warrior,” Surtr said through clenched teeth as he approached Teal’c. “A true warrior has no need of tricks to win a battle. He wins through the strength of his body and the determination in his heart. You are not worthy to face the king of the Jotuns in single combat.” He sneered. “You’re not even worthy to lick the bottoms of my boots.”

“Tell me the big dumbass didn’t just say that,” O’Neill said.

“He said it,” Sam confirmed.

O’Neill winced. “This is gonna hurt.”

Teal’c’s brow furrowed and his jaw clenched. Then without warning the Jaffa warrior became a blur as he ran toward Surtr. Before the giant could react, Teal’c struck him with three precise blows to different pressure points on the chest and abdomen. Surtr stiffened, took several stagger-steps backward, and collapsed to the ground.

The assembled Norsemen were silent for a long moment as Teal’c stood gazing down upon his fallen opponent. But then they burst into enthusiastic cheers, Vanir and Jotun alike.

“The bigger they are —” Daniel said.

“The more satisfying it is when they fall down and go boom,” O’Neill finished.

Baldr jogged into the circle and clapped Teal’c on the shoulder, smiling broadly. “Well done, mighty elf, well done!”

Teal’c — who by this time was probably getting sick of being called an elf — accepted the Vanir leader’s praise with a gracious nod.

O’Neill turned to Carter. “Looks like we’re worthy of talking to these boys now, huh?”

She smiled. “I’d say so, sir.”

As they started walking toward Teal’c, Surtr propped himself up on his elbows and glared at Teal’c. The giant said nothing, but his skin had turned a deep crimson hue and the air around him rippled, like waves of heat rising off of hot asphalt.

“Sir,” Carter began, but before she could say anything else, Surtr sprang to his feet and stretched out his hand.

During the battle with Teal’c, Surtr’s sword had remained lodged in the ground where he’d thrust it. But now the blade quivered and tore loose of the earth, streaking hilt-first through the air toward its owner’s waiting hand. The hilt struck Surtr’s flesh with a loud smacking sound, and the giant’s hand seized hold of the weapon and grasped it tight.

“Teal’c, look out!” Daniel shouted.

The Jaffa turned in time to see Surtr making ready to swing his broadsword. He fell into a fighting stance, prepared to defend himself, but without a weapon there wasn’t anything he could do against the armed giant. Sam racked the slide on her P90 at the same moment O’Neill racked his. Gunning down Surtr probably wasn’t going to do much to improve diplomatic relations with the people of this world — well, half of them, anyway — but there was no way Sam could stand by and watch her friend get killed by some half-crazed Viking wannabe, and she knew O’Neill felt the same.

But before either of them could fire, a shadow fell over the valley as dark clouds gathered above, and the breeze that had been blowing since they’d arrived suddenly kicked up to gale force. The winds were so severe that it took everything Sam had to remain standing. O’Neill and Daniel were having the same problem, and the three of them huddled close and grabbed hold of one another to steady themselves. Sam wasn’t able to maintain a grip on her p90, and given the strength of these winds, she wasn’t confident any rounds she fired would fly true. She shouted for Teal’c to move before Surtr could take his head off, but her words were lost in the winds’ roaring.

Both the Vanir and the Jotun fought to withstand the buffeting winds, but their force was simply too strong, and the Norsemen broke and ran for cover, the Vanir heading for one end of the valley, the Jotun for the other. For an instant, the men’s bodies appeared to grow blurry and then vanish altogether. But then they were back and running from the windstorm, and it had happened so fast that Sam wasn’t certain she’d really seen it at all.

Surtr struggled to hold his ground against the raging wind, still determined to avenge the insults he believed he’d suffered at Teal’c’s hands. The Jaffa warrior stood in a half crouch, one hand on the ground to steady himself against the gale-force winds, but he didn’t turn away from Surtr. He kept his gaze fastened on the Norse giant, ready for whatever his opponent might do next. Surtr lifted his sword above his head, clearly intending to bring it down for a killing strike, but as Sam watched, the crimson color faded from Surtr’s flesh and his tree-trunk legs began to buckle under the strain of standing against the blasting wind. Finally, Surtr let out a bellow of rage that was audible even above the noise of the windstorm. He lowered his sword, sheathed it, and took off running after his retreating men.

Baldr was the only Norseman left on the field, and he jogged over to Teal’c and helped the Jaffa warrior to stand upright.

“Good job, Teal’c!” O’Neill shouted. “Maybe we should start calling you David!” Teal’c gave O’Neill a blank look.

“You know, David… Goliath? Never mind.”

Baldr slapped Teal’c on the back. “The elf fought well, did he not? I invite the four of you to come with me back to my people’s longhouse for food, drink, and conversation while we wait for this storm to blow itself out. What say you?”

O’Neill looked at his three teammates before answering. “We say yes.”

“Excellent! Follow me — and try not to let the winds grab hold of you, or else they might carry you all the way back to Midgard itself!” And with that, Baldr started running in the direction his men had taken.

“Midgard?” O’Neill asked.

“That’s Norse for Earth,” Daniel said.

“The wind is becoming even stronger!” Teal’c shouted. “We must go!”

And without further discussion the four companions headed off after Baldr, staying close to steady each other against the raging winds.

The Vanir’s longhouse was aptly named. It was a long, narrow structure made from wooden planks and a roof constructed from turf, with a dirt floor and a simple hole in the roof that served as a chimney. A cook fire lay directly beneath the chimney hole, and some sort of stew was boiling in a large black pot. One of the Norsemen tended the pot, stirring the food with a long wooden spoon and occasionally tasting it to see if it was finished.

Weapons — some still stained with Jotun blood — hung from hooks on the walls, and mounds of woolen blankets lay on the floor nearby. Sam figured the Vanir simply grabbed a blanket and slept on the floor at night. A dozen tables were arranged in a single row inside the longhouse, and the Vanir sat at them, drinking mead out of clay cups as they laughed and argued about the day’s brief battle with the Jotun. The Vanir served themselves or each other; there were no women or children present. No animals, either, Sam noticed. This wasn’t the Vanir’s only longhouse, five more lay nestled here in the hills beyond the battlefield, but this was the largest and the one to which Baldr had led them. Sam figured this was the longhouse reserved for the highest-ranking Vanir — and their honored guests.

Weirdly enough, one of the five longhouses — the one next door, as a matter of fact — was reserved for the dead. When the Vanir arrived home, they’d simply carried the dead inside, deposited them on the dirt floor, and left. Sam found it more than a little strange that the Vanir could celebrate with such gusto with fifty or so of their dead comrades lying next door. But then again, why should they be somber? According to the legend of Valhalla, the dead men would rejoin the living at sunup. As far as the Vanir were concerned, their friends were doing nothing more serious than sleeping — and missing out on all the fun.

Sam hoped, for the sake of the dead men, that there was some measure of truth to the myth of Valhalla. Otherwise, their sleep was going to last for a looooooong time.

The wind was still roaring outside, the sound so loud it was difficult to hear the person sitting next to you talk. The longhouse creaked and groaned under the pressure, but the building seemed sturdy enough — at least, Sam hoped it was.

Evidently Teal’c’s thoughts were running along the same lines, for he said, “This building is constructed from simple materials — wood planks, a turf roof — and yet it is holding up to the fury of the windstorm remarkably well.”

“You think there’s more to this structure than appears?” Daniel said. “Some sort of technology helping it to resist the wind?”

“You saw how the Big Red Viking’s sword flew into his hand,” O’Neill said. “I say it’s a safe bet that things aren’t exactly as they seem here. Besides, it wouldn’t be the first place we visited that looked primitive but turned out to be anything but.”

Before any of them could say more, Baldr came toward their table, carrying a wooden tray with five clay cups of mead. He sat the tray down, took a seat next to O’Neill, and snagged one of the cups for himself.

“Drink up, my friends!” Baldr took a long swig of mead then wiped his mouth with the back of a sleeve.

Sam had never tried mead before, but she was game. Besides, when in Rome — or in this case, Valhalla…

The four SG-1 members each took a cup and sampled the mead. Teal’c took a healthy quaff and raised an eyebrow, a sign that he was pleasantly surprised. From the way Daniel gently tipped his cup to his lips, Sam figured he faked taking a drink, and that he did so only to avoid offending their host. O’Neill took a sip and made a face like he’d just bitten into a Goa’uld symbiote.

“Smooth,” he gasped. “Man, you can really taste the honey, can’t you?”

Sam tried hers. She’d once read a description of mead as tasting like honey-flavored gasoline. It was thicker and sweeter than she expected, dry, with a bit of an oaky aftertaste. Not awful by any means, and she thought she might be able to get used to it in time. She’d also read that the hangovers from overindulging in mead were truly wicked. The team knew better than to drink to excess on a mission, but when she got the chance, she’d warn the others just the same.

Baldr took another drink of his mead and then put his clay cup down on the table. Sam half expected the Norse commander to slam the cup down, but that was just the movie image of a Viking. In real life, the clay cup would shatter if Baldr slammed it down.

“So, my new friends, as you no doubt know, I am Baldr, leader of the Vanir. Who are you and what brings you to our lands?”

O’Neill introduced each of them in turn, making it a point to refer to Teal’c as “our elf,” which earned him a scowl from the Jaffa. When O’Neill was finished with the introductions, he turned to Daniel and gave the scholar a nod to jump in.

“We are travelers from Midgard,” Daniel began. “And you honor us with your kind hospitality, Baldr.”

Baldr grinned. “Your words are almost as sweet as this mead, Daniel. Are you by chance a skald?”

Sam and the others looked to Daniel for an explanation.

“A skald is a sort of combination storyteller-poet-historian,” he said. “They’d entertain at feasts and gatherings.”

“So a skald is somebody who talks a lot?” O’Neill said. He turned to Baldr. “Then, yes, Daniel is definitely one of those.”

Daniel frowned at O’Neill, but if Baldr noticed the interchange between them, he ignored it.

“Excellent!” Baldr said. “Perhaps you will favor us with your words later, Daniel. The Vanir have skalds among us, but as good as they may be, they have no new tales to tell, and we’ve long gotten used to the ones they know.”

“I take it you don’t get many visitors,” Sam said.

Baldr frowned for a moment as he thought. “As a matter of fact, you four are the first that I can remember.” He grinned. “That calls for a drink, does it not?” He grabbed his cup, drained it, and set it back down. The others each drank a bit more of their mead — though Teal’c finished his off — then put their cups down as well.

Daniel continued. “As I said, we are travelers, and we are anxious to learn as much about your home and customs as we can. This morning you were fighting the Jotun… can you tell us why?”

Baldr looked at Daniel as if he’d just asked what that shiny round ball of fire in the sky was. “We are Vanir; they are Jotun. We fight because we were chosen to do so.”

“Chosen by whom?” Daniel pressed. “By the valkyrie we saw before the battle began?”

“What about that horse?” O’Neill interjected. “Please tell me the horse can actually fly.”

“The valkyrie.” Baldr smiled at O’Neill. “And her steed did in fact gather our spirits from the battlefields where we were slain. But she serves Allfather Odin, as do we all.”

“Spirits?” O’Neill said. “So you’re… what? Ghosts?” He reached out and poked his index finger into Baldr’s shoulder. “Nothing personal, but you seem awfully solid for a ghost.”

Baldr laughed. “Because Odin wills it so. It is true we died, all of us, in battle on Midgard. But we have been restored to flesh and blood.” He thumped a fist on his chest for emphasis. “How else could we fight?”

“How else, indeed?” Teal’c said.

“What of those slain in today’s battle?” Daniel asked. “Will they remain dead?”

“Only until tomorrow’s sunrise,” Baldr said. Another Vanir was passing by with a tray full of mead, and Baldr grabbed a cup as the man went past and took a swig. “If they didn’t rise, then how could they fight anew?”

“I’m beginning to sense a pattern here,” O’Neill said.

Baldr went on. “At the end of every battle, both sides gather up their dead and bring them back to the longhouses. We reserve one longhouse solely for bodies. We place them inside, shut the door, and when the sun rises the next day, the dead emerge as living men, whole and hearty and ready to tests themselves in battle once more.”

“And the same thing occurs with the Jotun dead?” Daniel asked.

Baldr shrugged. “I have never visited the Jotun’s longhouses to see for myself, but I believe it to be so. They are always there on the field of battle the next day, are they not?” He laughed.

“How long have your two peoples been living this way?” Daniel asked. “Fighting day after day, dying and being reborn only to do it all over again?”

“I… am unsure,” Baldr said. He looked slightly embarrassed. “There never seemed to be much point in counting. Many days. Days without number.”

“And you do not tire of endless battle?” Teal’c asked. “Do you not wish to at least fight for a purpose?”

Up to this point Baldr had maintained his good humor, but now a measure of frustration and irritation crept into his tone. “Of course we do not tire, for we fight for the greatest purpose of all!”

“Which is?” O’Neill prompted.

“We fight for Odin,” Baldr said proudly. “We train to become the greatest warriors in all existence so that we may prove worthy to fight by the Allfather’s side when Ragnarok comes at last. And with Odin’s blessing, we shall help him forestall the day of doom.”

“Just like in the legend of Valhalla,” Daniel said softly.

Baldr laughed, his good humor returned. “Well, of course, my friend! Where did you think you were?”

The winds were still roaring outside the longhouse hours later. The Vanir had served SG-1 a stew consisting of beef, barley, turnips, carrots, and onions which, all things considered, wasn’t bad. Daniel had asked Baldr where the Vanir got their supplies, since the team had seen no sign of animals nor, for that matter, any gardens near the Vanir longhouses. Baldr had merely smiled and replied, “Odin provides.”

Now a group of Vanir had gathered around Daniel, Baldr among them, and SG-1’s resident “skald” was entertaining them with Native American folktales. Another group clustered around a table where Teal’c sat, the Norsemen taking turns trying their luck at arm wrestling the mighty “elf” that had faced Surtr on the field of battle. Sam and O’Neill sat alone at a table near the cook fire. It was a little smoky here, but far enough from the rest of the action that they could talk in relative quiet.

“We missed our check-in time a while ago,” Sam said. “General Hammond will be sending another team to find out what’s happened to us.”

“He’ll try,” O’Neill said. “But if the windstorm is this bad around the Stargate, he’ll be forced to pull the team back and wait for the weather to clear. And if it doesn’t let up soon, we’ll be forced to spend the night here.” He wrinkled his nose. “And since it smells like none of these guys has taken a bath in the last few hundred years, I really hope that doesn’t happen.”

“What’s up with this windstorm, anyway?” Sam asked. “As long as it’s been going on and as strong as it is, it can’t be natural. Did you notice how it started up right after Surtr summoned his sword to his hand?”

“I did, Carter, but then I’m just naturally observant like that.” He frowned. “Whatever it was, it started even earlier. Dark clouds gathered over the battlefield, and there’s the weird way Surtr’s skin turned red. And then when the big lunk called his sword, whammo! Instant windstorm.”

“There’s something else,” Sam said. “Right before Surtr abandoned the battlefield, I saw… I’m not sure what I saw. For a second, it looked like all the Norsemen just blurred out. Like for an instant they weren’t quite there anymore.” She gave O’Neill an apologetic look. “You know what I mean?”

“Not really, no.”

“Maybe I imagined it,” Sam said, feeling foolish for bringing it up.

“Maybe, but I doubt it. Plenty of strange things are going on in this place. What you saw is just one more thing to add to the list.”

“So you think Surtr is at the center of whatever’s going on?”

“Hard to say. I asked Baldr about the windstorms. You know, when those Vikings were hitting on you?”

Sam threw him an irritated look. “They were not hitting on me, sir. They just… wanted to ask me a few questions.”

“Carter, if what Baldr said is true, none of these guys has seen a woman in centuries. Trust me, they were hitting on you. At any rate, I asked Baldr about the windstorms — do they happen often, are they always this strong, that kind of thing.”

“Let me guess: he said he couldn’t remember.”

“Actually, no. He said they’ve occurred from time to time over the years, but over the last few months they’ve been getting worse, happening with both increasing frequency and strength. I couldn’t get him to tell me whether or not the valkyrie’s horse flies, though. He just laughs whenever I ask.”

“Colonel —”

“I’m sorry, Carter, but don’t you think it would be cool to see a horse fly?”

“Very cool, sir, but —”

The longhouse door flew open and a howling gust of wind blasted into the structure. All sounds ceased and all eyes turned toward the being standing in the longhouse’s entrance. A tall lean man with long grey hair and a beard to match stepped into the longhouse, the door slamming shut behind him of its own accord. The newcomer was dressed in similar fashion to the Vanir — long red cape, tan tunic, blue leggings, brown boots — but the colors of his clothes were far more vibrant than those of the other Norsemen. The colors were so intense, in fact, that it almost hurt to look at them. The lean man carried a golden spear, Nordic runes emblazoned along the length of the shaft. Strangely, two large black ravens perched upon his shoulders, their glittering ebony eyes taking everything in with an inhuman intelligence that Sam found more than a little creepy. But the man’s eyes were no less intimidating — or rather, his eye. For while one ice-blue eye fell upon SG-1 with fierce intensity, the other was little more than a scarred, pitted ruin.

Daniel was the first to break the silence.

“It’s Odin,” he said in amazement.

“Yes,” Odin replied, his own voice as cold as the winter wind skirling across an arctic ice field. “It is.”

“Sweet!” O’Neill said. “Now we’re getting somewhere!”

CHAPTER SEVEN

Jonas leaned back in his chair and rubbed his eyes. He didn’t know what time it was, and he planned to keep it that way. If he checked the time, he’d know how long he’d been working, and knowing would only make him feel all the more tired.

“You should take a break. You’ve been pushing yourself too hard.”

Jonas opened his eyes to see Kianna standing next to the monitor station where he was seated.

“If I don’t push myself, how can I ask all these other people to?”

Jonas indicated the dozen or so scientists, engineers, computer programmers, and techs working in the Array control center to get everything ready for tomorrow’s test. And it wasn’t just them: a minimized window on Jonas’s monitor displayed an image of a Langaran spacecraft approaching one of the defense satellites that comprised the Array. Rahil sat at a similar monitor on the other side of the control center. It was his job to supervise the installation of the naquadria cells, and he was keeping in close contact with the spacecraft’s crew. At the moment, Jonas was monitoring the power levels of the cells that had already been installed in the other satellites. According to the data scrolling across the main window on his display, everything looked good… so far.

Kianna leaned forward to get a better view of the minimized window and Jonas caught a whiff of what he thought might be perfume. Kianna wasn’t usually given to wearing perfume, and he wondered if she’d put it on because of what had happened — well, almost happened — between them earlier in the lab. He was surprised to find himself hoping she had.

He brought the minimized window to full size to give Kianna a better view of the spacecraft as it drew near the satellite.

“Is that the last one?” she asked.

Jonas leaned forward in his chair, bringing him closer to Kianna. He took a deep breath of her perfume, trying to be subtle about it, but he noticed the corners of her mouth turn up slightly, and he knew he’d failed. But she looked pleased. Good.

Jonas nodded in answer to her question. “When the crew is finished, the last of the naquadria power cells will have been installed. That will make three hundred in total.” He sighed. Three hundred satellites, each carrying enough naquadria to make it ten times more powerful than the naquadria bomb Kelowna had developed. Most of the satellites in the Array had been outfitted with the power cells in the last few weeks, with only twenty remaining today. And now that number was down to one.

Kianna turned away from the monitor and faced him. “You don’t sound very happy about it.”

“I’m not. When the crew is finished, we’ll have three thousand times the destructive force of the naquadria bomb orbiting our world. The sheer amount of power is staggering to contemplate.”

“Isn’t that the point, though? I mean, it wouldn’t be much of a planetary defense system if it wasn’t powerful.”

“I know. After all, I did design the damned thing.” He smiled. “Sorry. Guess I’m getting a little grouchy. But after all these months working on the Array, I can’t help wondering if it wasn’t a mistake to actually build it.”

Kianna frowned. “I don’t understand. The threat of the System Lords —”

“— is very real,” Jonas said. “I’m not denying that. How can I, when I’ve experienced it, up close and personal? What bothers me is that while our world has made great strides toward unity in the last year or so, the old suspicions and hatreds haven’t gone away. They’ve just been suppressed while our people worry about a more frightening foe lurking somewhere out there in the dark vastness of space. But let’s say that everything goes well tomorrow, and the Array and the power cells function perfectly. How long will it be before our people start to feel safe again, start to become complacent once more? And when that happens, will they remember all the old grudges and bad blood between nations? Will the cold wars resume, or worse, will we return to the days of open warfare?”

Kianna tried to smile, but Jonas could see by the uncertain look in her eyes that his words were having an effect. “I’m surprised, Jonas. I wouldn’t have pegged you for a cynic.”

He smiled wryly. “If you think that’s cynical, you’ll probably figure me for a paranoid after you hear this. If war does break out once more on Langara, how long do you think it will take before some maniac on one side or the other decides to take control of the Array and use it as a weapon against his or her enemies down here on the planet?”

Kianna paled as the implications of Jonas’s words set in. “But surely that’s not possible! We’ve built in so many safeguards…”

“I know. And I keep telling myself that those safeguards should be enough to stop anyone from using the Array for their own ends.”

Though tomorrow’s test would be run entirely from this control room, there were two similar facilities in Tirania and the Andari Federation. Once the tests were finished and the Array certified as fully operational, all three control facilities would be needed to control the network to ensure that it truly was a planetary defense system. Even so, the possibility remained that someone — someone who was especially determined, had the technical know-how, and the military might to back it up — could gain control of all three facilities. And that was what worried Jonas the most.

For this reason Jonas, unknown to anyone, including Kianna and Rahil, had built in a very special safeguard, a command code that could shut down the entire Array should there ever be any danger of it being misused. When Sam finally arrived — Jonas still wanted her expert opinion on the system — he planned to give her the shutdown code so she could take it back to Earth. Just in case. If there was anything he’d learned from his time with SG-1, it was always have a contingency plan.

He gave Kianna what he hoped was a reassuring smile. “Come on, let’s go see how Rahil’s doing.”

Jonas rose from his chair and he and Kianna walked to the other side of the control room, weaving between the others who were working to make sure the facility was in top shape for the morning’s test run. When they reached Rahil, the man looked up and gave them a weary smile. But as he did so, Jonas noted that his hands typed a few strokes on the computer’s keypad, and a small display in the right-hand corner of the monitor’s screen vanished. Jonas figured it was nothing, but it still struck him as odd.

“How are the power levels holding on the other satellites?” Rahil asked.

“Steady so far,” Jonas said. “But the real test will come tomorrow, when we power up the entire Array.” Right now the naquadria power cells were operating at a fraction of their capacity, which was all that was necessary to maintain the satellites’ basic functions. But when the Array was brought fully online, the subatomic reactions in the cells would begin, and then… Then they’d just have to wait and see.

Rahil grinned. “Tomorrow, Jonas? Have you looked at a clock recently? It’s already tomorrow. We have only a few more hours until we’re ready — or at least until we need to be ready. Whether we’ll get there or not remains to be seen. So if you’ll excuse me?” He switched his attention back to the monitor, turning up the volume so that he could hear the transmissions from the spacecraft’s crew more clearly.

Jonas gave Rahil’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Keep me posted.”

“Will do, boss.”

Rahil gave Jonas a parting smile, which Jonas returned, but was there something in his tone? A certain tension…

Just your imagination, Jonas told himself. That’s all.

“I still need to check out the Array’s communication software,” Kianna said, “to make sure the satellites don’t have any trouble talking to each other tomorrow.” She smiled. “I mean today. Want to help me?”

Jonas glanced back at Rahil, who was speaking to the commander of the spacecraft as it prepared to dock with the last Array satellite. He felt as if he should remain to observe the process, to make sure it went smoothly — and to keep an eye on Rahil.

But mistrust had been the Langarans’ weakness for centuries. More than once, it had brought their world to the brink of destruction and Jonas had spent the last few years of his life working to help his people overcome their differences, to combine their strengths for the betterment of all Langara. How could he fight that mistrust if he were to give in to it himself?

He turned to Kianna. “Sure. Let’s go.”

Rahil resisted the urge to turn and watch Jonas and Kianna leave. But out of the corner of his eye he saw them move to the other side of the control room and take seats at another console. When he was certain Jonas was occupied with helping Kianna, he once more brought up the minimized display he’d been studying. Rahil wouldn’t have bothered hiding it if anyone else had been present, Kianna included. None of the people currently working in the control room, as intelligent and highly trained as they might be, would have an inkling of what the data on the screen meant — with the exception of Jonas Quinn. The man was frighteningly intelligent, and even among the Langarans, who were known for being exceptionally swift learners, he was a fast study. More, Quinn’s naturally sharp perceptions had been further honed by his year working with the humans of Stargate Command. If Jonas had even a few seconds to look over the display window in the corner of Rahil’s monitor, he would have been very surprised by what he saw.

The display showed the progress of certain upgrades that were currently taking place on the Array satellites — upgrades for which Rahil was solely responsible. Each of the naquadria cells had been personally inspected by him before being taken into orbit and installed in the satellites. It would have made life simpler if the cells could have been installed before the satellites’ launch, but the naquadria was considered too unstable to be installed pre-launch, and so the cells had to be fitted to the satellites after they achieved a stable orbit. It was a huge waste of time and resources. He was confident he could’ve made the naquadria cells safe enough for launching, but his orders were to avoid drawing too much attention to himself, and so he’d gone along with doing things the slow way. He recognized the wisdom of it, but sometimes it chafed. Still, that was only to be expected when you were dealing with a technologically primitive culture.

Each time Rahil had inspected a naquadria cell, he had added a slight modification, a bit of nanotech completely undetectable even by the Langarans’ most advanced sensors. Over the last few weeks, the nanotech had been slowly reconfiguring both the satellites’ hardware and software, and doing so slowly in order to avoid alerting the Langarans — and most especially, Jonas. But now that the Joint Ruling Council had bumped up the timeframe for full-scale tests, Rahil had been forced to step up the pace of his modifications to the Array. It would be a near thing, but it looked as if the changes would be complete by the time the first tests began, assuming the Langarans on the spacecraft could get the last naquadria cell installed on time. Rahil would do what he could to hurry them along, but in the end it was up to the cell’s nanotech enhancement to complete the task of reconfiguring the last satellite. And when it was finished…? Well, the Langaran people would be in for quite a surprise.

Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing that he’d been forced to go slowly these last few months. The long anticipation only made the coming victory all the sweeter.

Smiling, Rahil asked the commander of the Langaran spacecraft for a progress report.

Baldr crossed the length of the longhouse and knelt before Odin. The rest of the Vanir had already gone down on bended knee before their Allfather, but SG-1 remained standing — or rather, sitting. They had no intention of showing disrespect, but they’d learned long ago that there were far too many beings in the galaxy that demanded obeisance because their intent was to dominate those weaker than themselves. And SG-1 didn’t bow before tyrants, regardless of how they presented themselves.

“My lord,” Baldr said, “have you come to choose who will feast at your side this night?”

Odin looked down at the leader of the Vanir, and his hard expression softened. “Rise, Baldr. And your men may do likewise.”

Baldr stood, and the rest of the Vanir in the longhouse rose to their feet. None sat, however. Sam elbowed O’Neill and stood up, Teal’c and Daniel following suit and moving quietly to rejoin the team. Odin watched them as they crossed the room, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned to Baldr.

“I am sorry, my son, but none of the Vanir shall be joining me this evening. Do not be disheartened, for this is not meant to deny the strength and bravery of you and your men. But today’s battle was cut short by the windstorm, and therefore no one — Vanir or Jotun — had the opportunity to distinguish himself on the field of honor. Do not despair, though. Even now the windstorm begins to weaken and by tomorrow it shall have passed. And then you shall have a new opportunity to win my favor. Until then, eat, drink, and enjoy yourselves!” Odin smiled, the gesture softening his severe features. “But make sure your revels don’t extend too far into the night. I want you rested and fresh for tomorrow’s battle.”

Baldr bowed his head. “As you wish, Allfather.” The leader of the Vanir then raised his head and gestured toward SG-1. “My lord, we have guests with us from Midgard this evening, and I request the honor of presenting them to you.”

Odin fixed his one-eyed gaze on Sam and the others once more. The two ravens perched on his shoulders stared at them as well, and the inhuman intelligence that gleamed in their beady black eyes gave Sam the creeps.

“You may, Baldr.”

Baldr gestured for the team to join him, and the four companions walked over and lined up behind Baldr.

Sam was surprised to find herself feeling intimidated by Odin. She’d been in the presence of extremely powerful beings before, but there was something about this one that seemed to affect her on a deeply instinctive level, almost as if he truly were a god. She inhaled and took in a not unpleasant odor of fresh snow and pine trees.

Baldr introduced each of them in turn, starting with O’Neill and ending with Sam. Sam took no umbrage at being last on Baldr’s list. From what she understood, Norse culture had very stereotypical roles for the genders, and the fact that Baldr and his men seemed to accept her as a warrior — if perhaps a curious one — was more than she might have expected from them.

When Baldr finished with his introduction, Odin looked at the team and inclined his head slightly. “Well met, travelers from Midgard. I take it you crossed Bifrost to get here.”

The others looked to Daniel.

“Bifrost is a rainbow bridge that serves as the gateway between Earth and Asgard, home of the Norse gods,” he said.

O’Neill turned back to Odin. “We came through the Stargate. It’s kind of what we do.”

“I see,” Odin said. “And your purpose for coming to this world?”

O’Neill made an exasperated face. “See, this is why I have trouble talking to people who claim to be gods. If they really are gods, then they should already know —”

Sam elbow the colonel again, only much harder this time.

“Ow! All right, all right!” He took a deep breath and continued more calmly. “We have come, oh mighty Odin, in search of knowledge.” He turned back to Sam. “Better?”

“Much.”

“A worthy goal,” Odin said. “There are many types of warriors. Some fight with strength of arms, some with strength of spirit, some with strength of mind. It seems to me that you four fight with all three.” He considered them a moment. “If you wish to acquire the knowledge you seek, remain the night. On the morrow, fight with the Vanir. If you acquit yourselves admirably, you shall be chosen to feast with me tomorrow evening, and then…” Odin smiled. “Then we shall talk.”

The door opened by itself and Odin turned to leave.

“One thing, your godness,” O’Neill said.

Odin paused and glanced back over his shoulder.

“Not that I don’t appreciate your invitation to get ourselves killed tomorrow, but I’m afraid I’m going to need a better reason to send my people into battle than a chance to have a little chit-chat with you.”

Shocked murmurs passed through the ranks of the Vanir, but O’Neill simply stood and waited for Odin to respond.

The Allfather turned back around to face the colonel, his expression thoughtful, as if he were reappraising O’Neill. “If you wish to use Bifrost to travel back to Midgard, you will need to get the key from me — and I will only give it to you if you prove yourselves in battle on the morrow. Do you understand?”

“You’ve done something to the dialing device so we can’t dial Earth,” Sam said, “and you won’t let us return home unless we fight.”

“Just so.”

“And if we refuse to play your games?”

Odin smiled grimly. “None may leave Valhalla without proving themselves upon the field of battle.”

“Peachy,” O’Neill said. “Okay, I don’t like it, but it sounds like we’ve got no choice. One thing, though — if I understand how things work around here, any of your Viking boys who get injured or killed in battle get healed up to play again the next day.”

“This is true.”

“So how about us?” O’Neill said. “If one of us gets hurt or dies, will we be healed?”

“You claim to have come here in search of knowledge, yes?” Odin turned back to the door. “So find out for yourself.”

With that, the Allfather of the Vanir stepped out into the night, his shoulder ravens cawing raucously as the wind ruffled their feathers. The longhouse door slammed shut behind them, and no one — Vanir or SG-1 member — thought the wind had anything to do with it.

For a moment no one spoke, and then O’Neill broke the silence.

“I was afraid he was going to say something like that.”

“You awake, Sam?”

Sam had been on the verge of dozing off, but she opened her eyes and smiled weakly at Daniel. “More or less.”

The cook fire had died down to glowing embers, and the Vanir had ended their revels for the night. The Norsemen slept wrapped in blankets, some lying prone on the floor, others sitting with their backs against the longhouse walls, heads drooping to their chests. Outside, the wind had died down to the point where it was scarcely louder than the soft deep breathing or the occasional snore of the sleeping Vanir.

Sam and Daniel sat on the dirt floor away from the Vanir so they could talk in private, if need be. Each was wrapped in a heavy wool blanket — too heavy, as far as Sam was concerned. She’d grown so warm inside hers that it was becoming a struggle to stay awake. She shrugged the blanket off and let if fall to the floor.

“Sorry,” she apologized, stifling a yawn. “Long day, I guess.”

Daniel smiled. “Aren’t they all?”

“How long was I out?”

“Five minutes. Maybe ten at the most.” Daniel smiled sheepishly. “I may have dozed a bit myself.”

She glanced at her watch, pressing a tiny button in the side to illuminate the face. It had been forty-five minutes since Colonel O’Neill and Teal’c had left the longhouse to return to the gate to test the DHD. It had originally taken the team a half hour’s travel from the gate to reach the battlefield, and approximately another half hour to reach the Vanir’s longhouses. Even though the wind had diminished to the point where it wouldn’t prove an impediment to their journey, it would still be awhile before O’Neill and Teal’c returned.

“What did you think of Odin?” Sam asked Daniel.

“He certainly looked the part. In Norse mythology, Odin is described as a lean old man of fierce demeanor. He carries the mystic spear Gungnir, and he possesses two ravens called Huginn and Muninn, meaning Thought and Memory. The ravens fly throughout Creation, seeing and hearing all, and when they return to their master they tell him everything they’ve learned.”

“I know he’s not a god,” Sam said, “but if he’s supposed to be playing the part, why does he only have one eye? Wouldn’t a god be able to heal himself?”

“Ah, that’s interesting because, according to myth, a well lies at the roots of the world tree, Yggdrasil. The mystic water within the well — called Mimir’s Well after the god that guards it — grants wisdom and the power to see the future to anyone who drinks it. Odin sacrificed one of his eyes for the right to drink a single draft from the well. Odin can’t restore his eye without losing the wisdom he gained from its sacrifice.”

Sam looked at him doubtfully, and Daniel added, “It’s mythology. It doesn’t have to make actual sense, just symbolic sense.”

“Okay, so whoever or whatever Odin really is, he’s done his research,” Sam said. “At least we know he’s not a Goa’uld.”

Daniel nodded. “Not enough fall-down-and-worship-me-or-I’ll-tear-out-your-heart-and-eat-it attitude.”

“And he’s not Tok’ra. In their own way, they rely on disguise and deception every bit as much as the Goa’uld, but they’re not nearly as theatrical.”

“And they’re not megalomaniacal maniacs.”

“There is that,” Sam said with a smile.

“I suppose Odin could be a holographic projection of some sort,” Daniel said. “The Asgard have used holographic technology to pose as gods on Earth as well as other worlds.”

“I don’t think so,” Sam said. “Even the highly sophisticated holo-technology of the Asgard has its limits. We’ve seen their holographic avatars before; their movements aren’t as lifelike as Odin’s were, and they tend to remain still due to the limitations of the projection devices. Besides, did you notice a smell that accompanied him? Like pine trees in winter. Holograms are shaped light; they don’t have odors. And do we know of an Asgard named Odin?”

“Not outside of the myths, no,” Daniel said. “Thor, Freyr, Loki, and Heimdall are all Norse gods who have real counterparts among the Asgard, but there’s no Odin as far as we know. But then, we’ve hardly been introduced to every member of their race.”

“Don’t forget that Thor didn’t reveal his true self to us until after we proved ourselves worthy in the Hall of Thor’s Might on Cimmeria,” Sam said. “Looks like Odin intends to put us through a similar test. So the only way we’re going to find out what’s going on…”

“Is to prove our worthiness by fighting alongside the Vanir tomorrow,” Daniel said. “Against the Jotun.”

“Who in Norse mythology were a race of evil giants.”

Daniel nodded. “It’s interesting that their leader is called Surtr, though. In the myths, Surtr wasn’t just any giant; he was a fire giant who would supposedly one day help bring about Ragnarok, the end of everything.”

“Fire, like the way his skin turned red.”

“Exactly. There’s no way something that strange could be a coincidence. There has to be a connection. The question is what.”

“Which bring us back around to proving ourselves worthy of getting answers from Odin,” Sam said. “In a ritual combat we non-Vikings might not survive.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Sam didn’t even try to stifle her yawn this time. She reached for the radio tucked into her vest, turned the volume control up, and then thumbed the button to talk. She spoke softly so as not to wake the sleeping Vanir around them.

“How’s it going out there, Colonel?”

O’Neill’s voice came over the radio’s speaker. “Cold and windy, Carter. When we get back to Earth, remind me to buy an industrial-size drum of lip balm.”

Sam smiled. “Will do, sir.”

“No dice on the DHD — Odin was right, it’s disabled. But Hammond’s been trying to make radio contact since we missed our scheduled report, and he dialed in again just as we were heading back to the longhouse. He’s happy to learn we’re not all dead — less happy that we’re playing wargames with Norse gods. I warned him not to send backup, and he advises us not to, and I quote, ‘take any unnecessary risks’. Teal’c and I are on our way back to the longhouse now. Our ETA is a half hour or so.”

“Roger that. We’ll be waiting for you, sir.”

“Save us a couple of those scratchy wool Viking blankets. O’Neill out.”

The colonel broke contact and Sam turned her radio’s volume back down.

“Why don’t you try to get some sleep, Daniel?” she said. “I’ll wait up for Teal’c and the colonel.”

“Thanks, but the least I can do is stay up with you and keep you company.”

Less than three minutes later he was asleep and breathing deeply. Good, Sam thought. Daniel’s mind was one of the team’s greatest weapons, and they were going to need him rested and sharp for tomorrow.

Because in the morning, SG-1 was going to war.

CHAPTER EIGHT

“Sam! You have to do something!”

Sam turned to see Jonas standing next to her. They were in the middle of a street, and from the architecture of the buildings around them, Sam guessed they were in the heart of Kelowna’s capitol city. The street was empty of life, save for the two of them, but it was choked with vehicles, all of them empty, parked at odd angles, sometimes damaged from where they’d collided with one another. Doors remained wide open on many of the vehicles, indicating the haste with which their owners had abandoned them. The shrill sound of sirens cut through the air, echoing throughout the city, and Sam had the eerie feeling that she and Jonas might be the only living beings here — perhaps on all Langara.

She had no memory of coming to Jonas’s world, and only the merest wisp of a recollection that Jonas had sent a communication to Stargate Command not long ago, requesting her help, but for what reason she couldn’t remember.

She looked to Jonas, hoping he might be able to fill in the gaps in her memory, but he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking past her with a wide-eyed expression of horror. She turned to see what Jonas was looking at and immediately regretted it.

Towering over the capitol’s skyline was an unbelievably immense being made entirely of fire. Though it had to be at least a mile away from Sam and Jonas’s position, she could feel the waves of heat emanating from the creature. It was almost as if a miniature sun had descended from the heavens and now strode the face of Langara like a malefic inhuman god. The buildings closest to the monstrosity were wreathed in flame and gouts of roiling black smoke poured from them into the sky.

“You want me to do something about that?” Sam said. The sheer size of the thing, the power it must’ve possessed, the amount of heat energy blasting forth from its titanic body, was beyond Sam’s ability to grasp. It wasn’t possible for such a creature to exist. It defied the laws of physics as Sam knew them, but there was no denying its presence, much as she wanted to. The thing was real, and it was making its way through the city toward them.

“I don’t care what you do,” Jonas said, “just as long as you do it fast! If this thing isn’t stopped here and now, the city will be destroyed — and if that happens, it’ll keep on going, from one city to another, from Kelowna to Tirania to the Andari Federation, leaving nothing but scorched earth in its wake, until all of Langara is nothing but a charred, lifeless ruin!”

The heat pounding into them was brutal, and rivulets of sweat poured off Sam’s body. She didn’t want to believe in this hideous fire god, wanted nothing more than to deny its existence and, if necessary, let her mind shut down entirely rather than continue to struggle to accept the impossible reality of the thing. But Sam had done and seen too much since the day she’d taken her first step through the Stargate, and she forced herself to retain control of her mental faculties with a single ferocious act of will.

“All right. What can you tell me about this thing, Jonas?”

The creature continued toward them, weaving ponderously between buildings when possible, simply knocking them aside when it wasn’t. It possessed no discernable facial features that Sam could detect, but she sensed the fiery behemoth was nevertheless glaring at her with implacable alien hatred.

“You’ve got to be kidding, right?” Jonas said, his voice edged with hysteria. “Why ask me? You’re the one who created it!”

Sam recoiled from Jonas’s words as if he’d struck her a physical blow.

“Jonas, I don’t — I can’t remember! You have to tell me what I did so I can —”

Before Sam could complete her thought, a blast of heat hit them, so intense that it sucked the oxygen from their lungs. Hair and clothes on fire, Sam tried to scream but when she drew a breath the searing air fried her vocal cords and no sound emerged. All around her, vehicles began to explode, flipping up into the air as balls of flame rolled upward from their mangled frames.

The last thing Sam saw before her eyes boiled in their sockets was a gigantic flaming hand reaching for them, and the last thing she heard was the crackling hiss of inhuman laughter as the Fire God prepared to render his final judgment.

“Are you all right, Major Carter?”

Sam’s eyes flew open and she instinctively grabbed for her P90 lying on the floor next to her. The safety was on, which was a good thing or else she might’ve filled Baldr full of 9mm rounds.

“I’m okay.” She lowered her weapon. “Just a nightmare, that’s all.”

Baldr crouched in front of her, his hand on her shoulder. “It is not uncommon for even the most hardened of veterans to have bad dreams on the eve of battle. Let us hope your dream is not an ill omen of things to come, eh?” Baldr smiled reassuringly, and then removed his hand and stood.

Sam reached up and rubbed her eyes — which thankfully remained in the sockets where they belonged. “I’m sure it’s just —”

She broke off then as she realized that something was wrong.

For one thing, Baldr no longer had a beard. He was clean-shaven and his hair was cut short and neatly trimmed. For another, he was dressed in an entirely different fashion than he had been last night. He wore a long-skirted coat of soft yellow that matched his hair, waistcoat, breeches, and highly polished boots. Tucked beneath his arm was a tricorn hat. A pair of epaulettes and a silver gorset emblazoned with Norse runes hanging from a chain around his neck completed his new uniform.

“That’s an interesting look for you, Baldr,” Sam said.

The commander of the Vanir tilted his head slightly to the side and gave her a puzzled smile.

“Don’t bother, Carter. He doesn’t know what you’re talking about. Or at least, he’s pretending not to.”

Sam turned to see O’Neill coming toward her, carrying a bowl filled with some sort of grayish glop. He reached down to help her up and she accepted his hand gratefully. Her back was stiff from leaning against the wall of the longhouse while she’d slept.

Now that she was starting to come more fully awake, Sam realized that Baldr wasn’t the only thing to have changed overnight. The rest of the Vanir wore uniforms similar to Baldr’s, though unlike their commander theirs didn’t sport epaulettes or gorsets, though to a man they were all clean-shaven and had short hair. And instead of swords, war axes, or spears, the Vanir now carried flintlock muskets and sabers. Their longhouse was no longer of Norse design. Now it was a more ordinary military barracks, with bunks for the soldiers and mess tables where they could eat. The walls were made of sturdy brick, and the floor was no longer bare earth but covered with wooden planking. The fire pit and chimney hole above it were gone, and in their places was a brick fireplace at the far end of the barracks. An iron pot — which looked almost exactly like the one from last night — hung above the fire. Presumably, that’s where O’Neill had gotten the bowl of gray glop that he carried.

O’Neill handed the bowl to her, along with a metal spoon. “It’s some kind of gruel,” he said. “Or maybe porridge. You know, the kind of stuff that Goldilocks ate.”

She gave the bowl’s contents a skeptical look. “How is it?”

“Filling,” O’Neill said. “Though it lacks a little something called taste.”

Baldr laughed. “It can’t be too bad, Colonel. Your elf has had three bowls so far! Now if you’ll both excuse me, I must see how preparations for the day are faring.” He gave them a parting nod before moving off to talk to a nearby group of his men.

O’Neill led Sam over to the table where Daniel and Teal’c sat. Daniel was slowly stirring his glop with a spoon, looking as if he were trying to work up the courage to try it. Teal’c was tucking into a full bowl, his fourth, Sam presumed. She and O’Neill sat with their teammates, and Sam tasted her whatever-it-was.

“It’s actually not too bad,” she said. “It’s a bit like oatmeal, only more watery and with a funny aftertaste.”

“It’s the aftertaste that concerns me,” Daniel said. He lifted a spoonful halfway to his mouth, paused, reconsidered, and returned the spoon to the bowl.

“You should eat, Daniel Jackson,” Teal’c said. “We will need our strength for the battle to come.”

Daniel grimaced, but he forced himself to do as Teal’c suggested. Sam continued to eat while they talked. “What happened? The uniforms, the hall…”

“It was like this when I woke up,” O’Neill said. “I asked Baldr about it, but he claimed to have no idea what I was talking about. He said the Vanir always dress this way, and they’ve always fought with muskets and sabers.”

“But Baldr and the other Vanir still recognize us,” Daniel said. “And they remember yesterday’s events the same way we do. Though, presumably they believe they were outfitted with eighteenth century weaponry. And they still possess the same beliefs. They still talk of Odin and believe this is Valhalla — and they still intend to meet with the Jotun on the battlefield today.”

“Baldr’s speech patterns have improved too,” Sam said. “He sounds more like an officer and a gentleman.”

“They say clothes maketh the man,” O’Neill said. “Maybe they make him talk better, too.”

Sam finished her breakfast and pushed her bowl away. “Do you think the Jotun have undergone a similar transformation?”

“If they have not,” Teal’c said, “they will be a serious disadvantage today considering the Vanir’s advancement in weaponry.”

“If the Vanir know how to fight with muskets,” O’Neill pointed out. “If not, the Jotun could still beat them.”

Teal’c inclined his head, acknowledging the point,

“The changes are real and not illusory,” Daniel said, rapping his knuckles on the table for emphasis. “At least, they seem to be. I suppose it’s always possible we’re experiencing some sort of group hallucination, but there’s no way to tell. At least, none I’ve come up with yet.”

“I stepped outside earlier,” Teal’c said. “The wind is gone and the sky is clear, though the temperature remains much the same as it was yesterday. One part of the Valhalla legend appears to be true. I saw Vanir — dressed in the same uniforms as those in here — emerge from the building where the dead had been stored overnight. They were very much alive and seemingly in good spirits.”

O’Neill spoke then, his tone grim. “This world is a world full of lies. Here’s a toast to those dead already.”

“And hurrah for the next man who dies,” Sam finished, recognizing the old World War I airman’s song.

A good song for Valhalla. Not just the melancholy spirit of warriors toasting dead comrades and facing their own mortality, but a world full of lies seemed especially appropriate to their situation. The truth behind Valhalla had yet to be revealed, and the question was whether SG-1 could discover what was happening before they died in battle alongside the Vanir — a death from which they might well not return.

“All right, everyone!” Baldr called out. “It’s time!”

The Vanir grabbed their muskets and sabers and started heading outside in an orderly fashion, no longer the ribald, undisciplined Vikings of yesterday.

O’Neill glanced at each of his team. “Let’s go,” he said.

The valkyrie made another appearance, only this time she wore a uniform similar to the Vanir’s, though her jacket was tan — the same color as Odin’s tunic, Sam noted — and her horse, while still a strong, beautiful animal, was wingless.

The Vanir and Jotun faced each other across the same battlefield as they had yesterday. Like the Vanir, the Jotun wore eighteenth century military dress and carried similar arms. But that wasn’t the end of their upgrades: they also had a cavalry unit and, Sam was less than thrilled to note, four mobile cannons. The Vanir had neither horsemen nor artillery. Like the Vanir, it seemed the Jotun’s dead had been resurrected to fight today’s battle, and after a quick count Sam confirmed the Jotun fielded the same number of men as they had yesterday.

The two armies stood in orderly ranks, with the valkyrie positioned equidistant between them. Baldr stood in the fifth row of the Vanir, and SG-1 stood with him.

“Looks like the Jotun brought some extra toys with them today,” O’Neill said.

“Why should that be?” Teal’c said. “The two sides seemed evenly matched yesterday.”

“Maybe random variances are part of the pattern,” Sam suggested. “Otherwise, the battles — and their outcomes — would be too similar day after day.”

“Possible,” Daniel said. “But the Jotun’s superior weaponry makes symbolic sense as well. Not only are they larger in stature than the Vanir, now they’re also larger in terms of military strength.”

“So they remain giants literally and figuratively,” Sam said.

Teal’c inclined his head. “Interesting.”

“And like Carter said, it would get pretty damn boring if everything was the same day in and day out,” O’Neill added. “This way, it keeps the David and Goliath thing going and makes for a better story.”

“A better story for whom?” Sam asked.

“Odin. Who else?”

Up to this point, Baldr had ignored them, but now he spoke. “The Allfather is always watching. But today I suspect he’s particularly interested to see how the four of you will acquit yourselves on the field of honor.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” O’Neill said. “We’re great when it comes to acquitting.” He frowned. “Wait — that didn’t come out right.”

The colonel didn’t have the chance to correct himself, for at that moment the valkyrie lifted a bugle to her lips and blew a single long note. When the note ended, she and the horse faded and disappeared, just as they had yesterday.

Without further preamble, Baldr shouted, “Advance!”

The rows of Vanir, SG-1 included, began marching in unison toward the Jotun. At Surtr’s command, the giant warriors began marching toward them. Surtr’s cavalry rode in the rear, keeping pace with the rest of the troops, and the cannon crews — stationed on the right and left flanks of the Jotun — rolled their weapons forward. Flintlock muskets were an incredible technological advance in weaponry for their time, but Sam knew that even at fifty meters the guns weren’t very accurate and hardly any of the enemy would be hit. Eighteenth century warfare consisted of getting close to your opponent and firing one volley after another, killing and wounding as many enemy soldiers as possible. If your army had cannons, as the Jotun did, you’d fire them in hope of frightening and demoralizing your enemy as much as killing them. And then once the opposing force was in disarray, you’d order your cavalry to ride in and use their sabers to kill fleeing soldiers and any wounded that were left behind.

This style of warfare might be more disciplined that the chaotic brawling the Norsemen had engaged in yesterday, but it was just as brutal and bloody.

Of course, no eighteenth century general had P90s, Berettas, or zats at his disposal. Powerful as SG-1’s weapons were, though, Sam doubted they’d turn the tide all by themselves — not unless the Jotun were terrified by the modern devices. But since the Norsemen on both sides hadn’t seemed all that impressed yesterday, there was no reason to think the Jotun would quake in their boots once Sam and her comrades started firing. Too bad Teal’c didn’t have his staff weapon. The energy blasts the Jaffa device emitted were powerful, if not as accurate as a p90, but it was primarily used as a weapon of terror and might have proved useful to engender the emotion in the Jotun.

When the front lines of the opposing armies were within fifty meters of each other, their respective commanders ordered a halt. Simultaneously, Baldr and Surtr shouted, “First volley, fire!” The front lines raised their muskets and the valley echoed with the crack of gunfire, curls of grayish-black smoke rising into the air. Men on both sides were hit, but before their comrades could fall, the front line knelt and immediately began reloading while the second line raised their muskets and prepared to fire over their heads.

“Second volley, fire!”

The second lines of the Vanir and Jotun army fired their muskets, and again, men on both sides cried out as lead balls tore into flesh. This time, more soldiers fell on the Vanir side than the Jotun, including several men in the third row, Sam noted. The Jotun’s height advantage allowed them to shoot at a different angle than the Vanir, and as a result their fire penetrated deeper into the Vanir’s ranks.

Before this day, Sam had only seen muskets fired like this in film and during historical recreations. She was impressed by how swiftly the first line went about reloading. First, each man had to pour powder from the horn he carried into the barrel then he would shove the ball in tight using an iron ram rod. Then he’d use the rod to ram paper wadding home to hold the ball in place. More powder then went into the gun’s pan, which would ignite the gunpowder inside via a vent.

The second line knelt to reload, and Baldr ordered the third line to fire.

After the third volley, O’Neill turned to Baldr.

“How about my people show the Jotun what our toys can do?”

Baldr shook his head. “Not yet, Colonel. There are certain set conventions to warfare that simply must be followed. I’ll let you know when your time comes.” He raised his voice and shouted, “First volley, fire!”

The first line, thinner now by a handful of men who lay on the ground moaning and bleeding, stood and fired once again.

Sam chafed at being forced to stand there and do nothing while men fell in battle — especially when she and her teammates carried superior firepower. If there was any chance SG-1 could bring this battle to a swifter conclusion, then that would mean fewer lives lost on both sides. And even if here on Valhalla the dead didn’t stay dead for very long, that was no reason not to try to preserve life if at all possible. After all, just because yesterday’s dead had been reborn for today’s battle didn’t necessarily mean they’d be resurrected for tomorrow’s.

“Keep an eye on Surtr,” O’Neill said. “After what happened yesterday, he might be looking for a little payback, and somehow I don’t think he’ll be as concerned with proper military etiquette as Baldr seems to be.”

“There’s a chance another windstorm — or something like it — may erupt again,” Daniel said. “So be ready for that.”

Baldr continued to order the first four ranks to fire in sequence, and when a line’s numbers grew too thin, soldiers from farther back stepped forward to take the place of the fallen. It was a strange feeling, Sam thought, almost as if she and her teammates were standing still while the Vanir army advanced around them, except the Vanir didn’t actually gain any ground.

A quick count told her the Vanir weren’t faring well. For every one man the Jotun lost, three fell on the Vanir’s side. The frustration was becoming too much for Sam to take.

“Sir,” she said to O’Neill, “we can’t just keep —”

“Hold that thought, Carter,” the colonel said. “It looks like Surtr’s boys are getting ready to play with their cannons.”

Each cannon was operated by a five-man team that worked with smooth, practiced motions to load the gun.

“Fire in the hole!” O’Neill shouted just before the first of the cannons let loose. Sam flung herself to the ground as the blast rocked the valley, followed by three more in quick succession. The cannonballs tore through the ranks of the Vanir as if they were nothing but paper dolls designed to look like soldiers. The screams of the dying and maimed were truly hideous, and Sam was glad that her ears rang from the cannon blasts. Even muted, the cries were almost too awful to stand.

“To hell with this,” O’Neill said, scrambling to his feet. At least, that’s what Sam thought he said; she wasn’t certain since she had to partially read his lips. She touched one of her ears and the colonel nodded. “We’ve got to take out those cannons!” This time he shouted so his comrades could hear him. “Carter and Daniel, you take the ones on the right. Teal’c and I will take the ones on the left!”

The other three nodded, and without bothering to wait for Baldr’s approval, SG-1 moved out. Surtr saw what they were doing and commanded his men to begin firing.

“I’ll lay down some cover, Daniel — you take care of the cannon!”

“Will do!”

The right half of the Jotun’s first two ranks turned to aim their muskets at Sam and Daniel, but before any of the Norse giants could pull their triggers, Sam fired a couple short bursts from her P90. As she’d expected, her weapon didn’t cause the Jotun to break ranks and flee in terror, but the 9mm rounds didn’t need to frighten to do their job. Bullets tore into Jotun flesh, and soldiers fell like bowling pins.

While Sam fired, Daniel removed an MK3A2 concussion grenade from one of his vest pockets. When they were close enough to the first cannon — which was in the process of having its bore cleaned out  — Daniel yanked the pull ring on the grenade and lobbed it toward the cannon. The gunners had no experience of grenades, and they only looked at the device as it landed next to one of the cannon’s wheels. They were still looking at it when it went off. The wooden wheels were reduced to splinters, and the cannon itself was cracked in numerous places. The gunners, made merely of flesh and blood, didn’t fare so well either.

A second blast told Sam that O’Neill and Teal’c had succeeded in taking out their target, but she didn’t pause to check. They continued running, Daniel keeping his gaze fixed on the second cannon, not only because he knew to keep his eyes on the prize, but, Sam suspected, because he couldn’t stand to view the carnage he’d wrought. Daniel would kill when he had to, when there was absolutely no other choice, but he would never take death lightly. It was one of the many qualities Sam admired in him.

As they drew near their target, Sam heard a muffled pounding that she at first mistook for distant thunder. But then she saw a trio of Jotun riders coming toward them, sabers in hand, and she realized that Surtr had sent his cavalry to prevent them from taking out the second cannon. Presumably another group of horsemen were heading for O’Neill and Teal’c.

Standard kit included two MK3A2s, so Daniel had one grenade left to use on the remaining cannon — assuming Sam could keep him alive long enough to yank the ring and throw it.

The Jotun’s mounts were huge, bigger even than the largest breeds on Earth, and taking into account the strength of the rider, the size of the horse, and the sheer momentum of both, the force of a Jotun cavalryman’s saber strike would be formidable indeed. In the movies, swordsman were forever hacking off one another’s heads with a single blow, but in real life, cutting all the way through a human neck was a trickier proposition. But Sam had no trouble believing the Jotun horsemen could do it.

So let’s not give them the chance.

She raised her P90 and fired three short bursts, one for each rider. The Jotun riders pitched backward under the bullets’ impact and fell out of their saddles. One hit the ground and his steed ran off, but the other two became tangled in their reins and stirrups, pulling their mounts down with them. Sam hoped the horses weren’t too badly injured, but if so, there was no help for it.

An explosion detonated to her left, and she knew that O’Neill and Teal’c had taken out their second cannon. An instant later, Daniel’s grenade went off and the last of the Jotun’s cannon was neutralized. Daniel jogged over to her, smiling grimly, while the pop-crack of musket fire rattled in the background as the Vanir and Jotun soldiers continued firing. SG-1 had taken care of the Jotun’s superior firepower; now it was time to see what they could do to end this battle altogether.

Sam thumbed the talk switch on her radio, intending to ask O’Neill for further orders, but before she could say anything, Daniel drew his Beretta and aimed past her.

“Sam, look out!”

Instinctively, she ducked and rolled forward, hearing a soft wssshhht and feeling a slight breeze on the back of her neck. She came to her feet and spun around, P90 up and ready to fire, only to see Surtr standing there, broadsword in hand. If it hadn’t been for Daniel’s warning, the Jotun commander would have sliced her in two.

Despite the fact that he carried the Viking sword, Surtr was dressed in eighteenth century military garb, only now his clothing seemed hazy, like an out-of-focus image, and Sam thought she could see glimpses of tunic and leggings overlaying his commanding officer’s dress.

“I thought your people had all upgraded their weaponry,” Daniel said, keeping his Beretta trained on Surtr. “What’s wrong? Having trouble playing by the rules?”

Surtr’s skin flushed red with anger and his eyes glowed with a baleful inner light. “Rules are for the weak,” he growled. “The strong do as they will!” Surtr raised his sword and lunged toward them.

Sam and Daniel fired in tandem, striking the Jotun leader numerous times. Blood sprayed from his wounds and he staggered backward, but he did not fall and he did not lose his one-handed grip on his broadsword. His aspect flickered, going back and forth between the proper eighteenth century officer and the savage read-bearded Norseman — and there was something else: a featureless silver oval hung motionless in the air where Surtr’s chest should have been. Surtr grimaced and a look of fierce concentration came over his face. Slowly, his appearance settled on one aspect: the crimson-skinned Viking warrior with fire-flecked eyes and flaming hair and beard. His wounds were gone, and not even bloodstains remained. The giant then grinned at them triumphantly.

“Why should I wait for the next sunrise to heal?” he said. “I am Surtr, and I am invincible!”

With these words, fire erupted across the length of his broadsword and he started toward them once more.

Sam and Daniel fired, but this time their bullets had no effect on Surtr. They not only failed to slow him down, Sam couldn’t tell if they even struck the Jotun. It was almost as if the rounds vanished before reaching him.

A shadow fell over the battlefield, just like yesterday, but Sam didn’t have time to worry about that. She had an advancing fire giant to deal with.

Just like my dream. But with one big difference — this was real. And what was real could be fought.

“Get ready to run,” she told Daniel as she pulled one of her own MK3A2s from her vest pocket, yanked the pull ring, and tossed it at Surtr’s feet. Sam and Daniel turned and fled, but they only managed to get a few yards away before the concussion grenade exploded. The blast wave knocked them both off their feet, and they hit the ground face first. Sam lay there for a second, dizzy and disoriented, then rolled over to see what damage her grenade had done.

Surtr was gone, and in his place was the hovering ovoid she’d seen when the giant’s form had destabilized. The ovoid wobbled and looked as if it might fall to the ground, but then it steadied itself and the air around it shimmered as Surtr reappeared, looking even angrier than before.

“What was that?” Daniel asked.

Sam had no answers, and she was fresh out of ideas on how to stop the fire giant. Surtr strode up to them, his skin turning a darker crimson with each step. The clouds overhead grew thicker and darker, and a cold wind began to blow through the valley. Surtr stopped when he reached Sam and Daniel, lifted his flaming sword high over his head, and bared his teeth in an inhuman snarl as he prepared to strike.

A soft metallic sound lanced through the air and coruscating energy wrapped around Surtr. The zat blast was followed immediately by a second, then a third. Sam turned to see Teal’c running toward them, zat aimed at Surtr, and O’Neill alongside. Sam returned her attention to the leader of the Jotun.

The blasts staggered Surtr, causing him to lose his grip on his sword. The blade tumbled earthward, its flame extinguished before it struck the ground. The giant’s aspect blurred and flickered, alternating rapidly between fire god, Norseman, and eighteenth-century warrior, with glimpses of the silver ovoid that Sam was beginning to suspect was Surtr’s true self. For a moment she allowed herself to believe the Jotun commander was defeated, but then the shadows cloaking the valley grew darker and thicker, and the wind picked up intensity. Almost as if Surtr drew strength from the burgeoning storm, his rapid transformations slowed until his aspect settled once more on that of the angry fire god.

Flame-flecked gaze fixed on Sam, Surtr bent down to retrieve his sword. All four members of SG-1 let loose with their weapons, sending a hail of bullets and electrical energy into the crimson-skinned giant. But Surtr remained unaffected, and he strode toward Sam and raised his broadsword to strike.

Teal’c dropped his zat’ni’katel and ran toward Surtr, obviously intending to engage him in hand-to-hand combat, just as Surtr brought his sword down in a curving strike designed to slice into the juncture between Teal’c shoulder and neck.

Sam started to shout something — maybe No! or maybe just an inarticulate cry of frustration, rage, and grief — but before any sound could escape her lips, her vision filled with blinding white light and Surtr, the Jotun, the Vanir, the battlefield, the whole damned world disappeared.

CHAPTER NINE

“Are you ready now, Jonas?”

Jonas did his best to ignore the annoyance in First Minister Dreylock’s voice as he checked over the latest set of diagnostics transmitted from the Array’s computers. Everything looked good, just as it had the last two times he gone over the data, but his team had worked fast — too fast — to prepare for today’s tests. Jonas knew something had to be wrong, and he wanted to find out what it was and correct the problem before initiating the test. But try as he might, he couldn’t find anything.

Every console in the Array’s control room was manned by a member of Jonas’s team, and Jonas sat at the main console in front of a large monitor screen. Kianna stood on his right, Rahil on his left, and the three members of the Joint Ruling Council stood behind Jonas’s chair, glaring at him impatiently. He could feel their gazes boring into the back of his neck, and it wasn’t helping his concentration. At least there were no media present to add to Jonas’s stress; the Councilors — in a rare display of common sense — had decided to keep today’s test secret. After the near destruction of their world only a few months ago, they felt knowledge of the test would only cause unnecessary anxiety for the people of Langara. Privately, Jonas thought the Councilors’ prime motivation for secrecy was so they could more easily cover up the resulting mess if something went wrong today — which was yet another reason why he had to make sure everything went right.

Rahil put a hand on Jonas’s shoulder. “You realize it’s possible that everything is functioning perfectly?”

“Possible, yes,” Jonas said, quickly skimming rows of data scrolling across the computer screen in front of him. “Probable is a different story.”

“Mr. Quinn!” Vin Eremal snapped, his patience clearly at an end. “If you do not immediately give the order to begin testing the Array, you shall be asked to step aside and we’ll select someone else to take over.”

Jonas turned around in his chair to face the Councilors. “Go ahead and replace me if you want. But before you do, remember this: it was Kelowna’s test of the naquadria bomb that caused the instability in the naquadria vein that nearly destroyed our world. All I’m trying to do is make sure we don’t make a similar mistake today. You all pushed for this test to occur, and it will, but not until I say we’re ready. So until then, I’d greatly appreciate it if the three of you would stand there and keep your mouths shut.”

Eremal’s face clouded with anger, and he took a step toward Jonas, but Dreylock put a hand on his arm to stop him. He gave Dreylock a dark look, but he remained where he was and said nothing further.

Jonas knew it was a petty of him, but he couldn’t help feeling some small measure of satisfaction at having put the Councilors in their place, even if it was only momentarily. He turned his chair back to his monitor and glanced at the data stream once more.

Kianna leaned her face close to Jonas’s, and when she spoke softly he could feel her breath warm on his cheek. “Rahil is right, you know. At this point, the data’s not going to change no matter how many times you go over it. Either you authorize the test or you don’t, but either way, it’s time to decide.”

Jonas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Kianna was right. He’d once heard O’Neill use an expression: Time to pee or get off the pot. Crude, but there was a certain wisdom in it.

He looked up at Kianna and gave her a smile. “All right.” He pushed back from his computer station and rose from his chair, raising his voice so everyone in the room could hear him. “We have a go, people. Let’s get started.”

“Finally,” Councilor Tarthus muttered, but Jonas ignored her and turned to Rahil.

“Why don’t you monitor the system as the test progresses?” Jonas suggested. “I’ve gone over the preliminary data so many times, the numbers are starting to lose their meaning. It’ll help to have a fresh pair of eyes on things.”

“Of course, Jonas.” Rahil sat at the computer station that Jonas had vacated and settled in.

“What would you like me to do?” Kianna asked.

I want you at my side to lend me some of your strength, Jonas thought. Aloud, he said, “Let’s hope Rahil’s optimism in the test’s outcome is rewarded, but let’s you and I stand by to troubleshoot… just in case.”

Kianna nodded. Jonas looked into her eyes, trying to gauge how she felt about the test. Was she confident? Worried? Frightened? Since being freed from the Goa’uld symbiote, Kianna had worked on maintaining control of her emotions, and sometimes it was hard to read her. She surprised Jonas then by taking his hand and giving it a reassuring squeeze, and he thought that, while today’s test could well prove to be a pivotal moment in Langara’s history, Kianna’s simple gesture of affection might prove to be an equally pivotal moment for the two of them. He gave her hand a return squeeze before releasing it. He then turned to Rahil.

“Initiate test sequence.” Despite Kianna’s reassurance, he was surprised at how dry his throat was.

Rahil’s fingers moved with confident grace over the keyboard. “Initiating.”

Up to this point the satellites that comprised the Array had been drawing power from their solar batteries, but at Rahil’s command, the naquadria fuel cells in each satellite were activated. The control room’s main display screen had been blank, but now it showed an image of empty space as seen from a camera attached to one of the satellites. Rahil adjusted the camera’s controls, and the image panned to the right until a second satellite came into view. The satellites’ design exhibited little in the way of aesthetics; the machines were simplistic, blocky things, ugly and ungainly. Beauty had been sacrificed on the altar of expediency in order to get the Array up and running as swiftly as possible. And while Jonas might’ve preferred the Array to be more elegant, as long as the damned thing worked, he wouldn’t complain.

Rahil looked up from the screen. “Telemetry from the satellites indicates all the naquadria cells are online and functioning to spec.”

“Excellent!” Eremal said.

Before Jonas could say anything, Rahil spoke again. “I wouldn’t start celebrating yet, Councilor. The cells are currently running at ten percent capacity. We’ll need to bring them up to one hundred percent before we can conduct our test.”

“Still,” Kianna said, a smile playing about her lips, “none of them have exploded yet, which is a good sign.”

Jonas grinned. “True.”

Rahil gave them both a wry look, but otherwise didn’t comment. He continued watching the numbers flow across the screen in front of him, calling them out as they increased.

“Twenty percent…forty-five…sixty. Seventy-five, eighty, eighty-five, ninety, ninety-five….” He broke off and several moments passed before he said, “Holding at ninety-seven.”

“Is something wrong?” First Minister Dreylock asked.

Jonas frowned. “Not necessarily. This is the first time the naquadria cells have been powered up inside the satellites. The power system in each satellite is an intricate balance between a naquadria cell, a solar battery, and an electrical back-up generator. It’s possible the entire system needs some time to warm up before it can reach full capacity.”

“Speaking of warming up, that might be the problem,” Kianna said, more for the Councilors’ benefit than for that of her fellow scientists. “As you might imagine, the power levels we’re dealing with here can generate a tremendous amount of heat. The satellites are equipped with cooling systems, of course, but their onboard computers also have programmed safeguards that won’t allow the heat to rise to dangerous levels. It’s possible those safeguards have activated, making sure the naquadria cells don’t reach full power and cause the satellites to overheat.”

Before the Councilors could protest, Jonas hurried to add, “Those safeguards can be overridden during an actual battle, but I’m reluctant to do that during a test since it might result in our losing any number of satellites due to overheating.”

“Let’s just give it a minute, shall we?” Rahil said. “The Array is a fiendishly complicated arrangement of technologies, so there are bound to be some growing pains at first.”

Jonas frowned. There’s was something in Rahil’s voice that seemed to indicate that he knew more than he was saying. And that phrase he’d used — growing pains. There’d been a smugness in Rahil’s tone as he’d spoken it, as if he were enjoying a private joke. During his time with SG-1, Jonas’s instincts had been honed to a razor-sharp edge — and those instincts now told him that something was wrong.

He was on the verge of calling for the test to be aborted, when another thought struck him.

Maybe, just maybe, his stint with SG-1 had made him a little too paranoid. Yes, the galaxy was a dangerous place, and yes, sometimes those who seemed innocent weren’t — he thought of the Goa’uld who’d possessed Kianna and he couldn’t stop himself from giving her a sideways glance — but peril didn’t lurk around every corner every second of every day. SG-1 encountered danger so often because of the work they did, because they went out into the galaxy to confront the predators that inhabited it in order to make their world, and other worlds like Langara, safe. So Rahil had used a turn of phrase that had struck Jonas as a bit odd. That didn’t mean —

“All the naquadria cells in the Array are now at one hundred percent capacity,” Rahil said. “Ladies and gentleman, the first step of the test has been a success.”

The Councilors grinned, and the scientists and engineers stationed around the control room broke into applause. Kianna gave Jonas a broad smile and held up a single finger. Her message was clear: One down.

Jonas allowed himself to relax, but only a little. They still had a long way to go before today’s test could be considered even remotely successful.

“Link up the Array’s computers,” Jonas said.

“Consider it done.” Rahil keyed in series of commands, and all eyes in the control room turned to watch the satellite displayed on the main screen. At first nothing happened, but then a row of lights on the side of the satellite came on one by one, indicating Rahil’s command had been received and accepted.

Rahil opened a new window on his computer and checked the data scrawling across the screen.

“The satellites are talking to one another, and the data transfer is running smoothly.” He turned to Jonas. “I think it’s safe to say the Array is online.”

While each of the satellites could operate independently if need be, they were designed to work in concert as a single unit, with each of their computers acting as a component in an overarching network. While the satellites were referred to as the Array, the Array truly wasn’t active until the satellites were linked and could function as one.

Kianna held up two fingers this time, and Jonas felt his doubts begin to melt away. Maybe this was going to work after all. He turned to Rahil. “Is the drone ship ready?”

“Ready and waiting.”

“Good. Initiate flight sequence.”

Rahil worked the controls, and the satellite’s camera panned upward and increased magnification to reveal a sleek spacecraft in a higher orbit. Light pulsed as the craft’s engines engaged, and the unmanned vehicle began silently gliding toward the Array along a preprogrammed flight pattern. Rahil had designed today’s test and his plan was simple: the drone ship was intended to simulate a spacecraft of unknown origin approaching Langara.

“The drone is within two hundred kilometers of the nearest satellite and closing,” Rahil said. “The Array’s scanning the ship and making a threat analysis.” A pause. “The Array’s identified the drone as a potential threat, and it’s sending a warning message to the ship, ordering it to identify itself. And the drone, of course, is not responding. Now the Array is telling the drone to turn around and depart or it will be destroyed.”

The image of the drone ship grew larger on the display screen as the vehicle drew nearer the Array satellites. The tension in the control room had already been palpable, but it became more intense, the atmosphere charged with energy. And no one was more tense than Jonas. The next step in the test was a complicated one, requiring precise timing. If anything was off by even a fraction of a second…

“The three satellites closest to the drone are powering up their weapons,” Rahil said.

Good. While there would always be humans in the control room monitoring the Array and helping to guide it during an actual attack, the Array was programmed to make certain judgments on its own. Its linked computer system functioned as an extremely limited artificial intelligence, enabling it to make a threat assessment and act upon it. Since the drone ship was only a single vehicle, there was no reason for the entire Array to waste energy trying to stop it. Three satellites should do the job nicely; the Array had chosen its strategy well.

Which was why the drone was programmed to give the system a little surprise.

Seams appeared along the ship’s surface, and the vehicle separated into five component parts, each capable of independent flight. The five smaller ships moved off on different flight paths, performing evasive maneuvers as they headed toward the surface of Langara.

The Array quickly compensated, and the satellites began firing energy beams toward the drone’s components. The beams themselves were invisible to the human eye, but the display screen rendered them as ruby-red shafts of light, and a trio of beams lanced toward their targets.

The Array’s still only using three satellites, Jonas thought. Interesting.

The three beams targeted the drone segments’ engines, employing just enough force to disable them. The Array was fully capable of reducing the drone segments to debris, but the system was programmed to use only as much force as a task required, and no more. The Councilors had wanted the Array to blow everything it attacked to atoms, but Jonas had finally convinced them that, humanitarian reasons aside, always using the Array’s weapons at full strength would not only be a waste of power but it would cause more wear and tear on the overall system, leading to more frequent — and costly — repairs. Once Jonas had put a price tag on the matter, the politicians had only been too happy to see it his way.

Kianna leaned close to whisper to him. “It’s going well, isn’t it?”

“So far, so good,” Jonas agreed. The Array was performing exactly as it was designed to, and Jonas felt a bit more of his tension drain away. Still, there were still two remaining drone segments for the Array to deal with.

One of the two segments fired its thrusters at full strength and headed straight for one of the satellites, while the second segment continued toward the planet, its thrusters at maximum as well. The segment on a collision course with the satellite was intended to be a distraction to allow the other segment a chance to slip through the Array’s defenses and reach Langara. The collision would never take place, of course, for the segment was programmed to veer off at the last instant. But the Array didn’t know that, and it was programmed to sacrifice one of its components in order to safeguard the planet. So if everything occurred as it should, the Array should target the fleeing drone segment first and take it out, and then — if time remained — take out the second segment before it collided with one of the Array’s satellites.

But that’s not what happened.

As everyone in the control room watched, all three of the Array’s operating satellites targeted the drone segment that was on a collision course with one of its components and fired their energy weapons at full force. There was a bright flash as the segment’s power core exploded. Immediately, the three satellites targeted the fleeing drone segment, and while two of their beams missed because the segment was almost out of range, the last beam hit and the segment was disabled.

The control room was silent for a long moment as everyone struggled to process what had just taken place. Rahil’s quiet voice broke the silence.

“The Array has determined the threat is nullified and is powering down.”

“Well done!” First Minister Dreylock said. She came forward and shook Jonas’s hand. “A most impressive display, Mr. Quinn!”

“Indeed,” Councilor Tarthus said. “This is a great day for our people.”

“All our people,” Eremal agreed.

Jonas smiled wanly. While he was always happy to see signs of unity in the Joint Ruling Council, he didn’t share the Councilors’ enthusiasm for the test’s final outcome.

Something was wrong with the Array. Seriously wrong.

Less than an hour later, the Array control room was deserted except for Jonas and Kianna. The Councilors had returned to their chamber, no doubt to begin bickering over some new matter, and Jonas had arranged for a small celebration to take place in one of the break rooms. Right now the scientists, engineers, and techs who’d worked on the Array and the naquadria cells and put in so many long hours over the last day were drinking punch, eating cake, and talking over the test — gossiping, joking, and laughing to get rid of their remaining stress. Jonas and Kianna had made a brief appearance at the party before returning to the control room to resume work because, despite appearances, the test of the Array had not been an unqualified success.

They now sat next to each other at the main control terminal Rahil had used during the test. Jonas was reviewing the data recorded, both in the control room and in the Array’s computers, and he was performing diagnostics on all the Array’s systems — sensors, power, and weapons. A number of display windows were open on his monitor, and the sheer amount of data flowing across them would have been too much for anyone else. But Jonas wasn’t parsing the information bit by bit. Rather, he was letting it wash over him, in hope that some anomaly would leap out at him.

“Did you see the look Rahil gave us as we left the party?” Kianna said. “He thinks you and I went off somewhere to be alone.”

Jonas didn’t take his eyes off the screen as he replied. “Well, we did. We —” He broke off as the implication behind Kianna’s words hit him. “Oh. You mean alone.” He turned to her and smiled apologetically. “Sorry.”

“I imagine we’re the main topic of gossip right now,” she said. “And don’t apologize. There’s nothing to be sorry for.” She paused. “Although I’m sorry that we aren’t somewhere else… alone.”

Jonas looked at her, unsure what to say. Kianna smiled gently and brushed her fingers against his cheek.

“Don’t worry. I know it’s important that we do this right now. Maybe later?”

Jonas noticed her fingers trembled against his flesh, and though she strove to appear confident, her tone held a slight quaver. She was taking a risk, and she knew it. Jonas told himself that this was not the right time, that he and Kianna needed to maintain a professional relationship if they were to get to the bottom of what had gone wrong during the test. He needed to tell her all this, in a way that made his feelings clear while respecting hers.

Instead, he reached up to take hold of Kianna’s hand, brought it to his lips and tenderly kissed the tips of her fingers. “Definitely later.”

She smiled and gently withdrew her hand. “Back to work then. So… tell me what’s bothering you.”

Jonas returned his attention to the data scrolling across the monitor. “Two things, the second of which is the more serious.”

“The way the Array dealt with the last two drone segments.”

Jonas nodded. “The Array should’ve sacrificed one of its components in order to stop the segment heading for the planet. But it didn’t. Instead, it chose to destroy — not disable, but destroy — the segment heading for one of its satellites.”

“The Array still managed to stop the last drone segment,” Kianna pointed out.

“True, but the segment almost escaped. The Array’s primary directive is to protect Langara at all costs, including its own destruction. But the way the Array behaved… it was almost as if it decided to place self-preservation over guarding the planet. If this had been a real alien attack and an enemy ship managed to slip past the Array…”

“Maybe the Array realized that this was a test and decided that it wasn’t necessary to risk losing one of its satellites. After all, if the last drone segment had gotten through, no harm would’ve come to Langara.” She paused, and then gave a little laugh. “Listen to us, talking as if the Array is alive. Its artificial intelligence is nowhere near sophisticated enough to make a decision that complicated… right?”

Jonas thought for a moment. “Rahil said something while we were waiting for the naquadria cells to reach full power. Do you remember? He said the Array was a complicated piece of technology and that there were ‘bound to be some growing pains at first.’ Sounds like he was referring to something alive, doesn’t it?”

“But surely he was just speaking colorfully,” Kianna said. “Rahil does have a tendency to do that, you know.”

“A tendency to do what?”

Jonas and Kianna turned to see Rahil standing in the doorway of the Array control room. He held a fork in one hand and a small plate with a half-eaten piece of cake on it in the other. He was smiling, but there was no humor in his eyes.

Jonas had failed to listen to his instincts earlier when they’d warned him that something was wrong with the test. Now his instincts told him that Rahil knew more than he was letting on, and this time Jonas intended to heed his feelings. He rose from the monitor and crossed the room toward Rahil, Kianna following.

“No more games, Rahil,” Jonas said. “You know as well as we do that the Array acted against its programming when it chose to save one of its components before stopping the final drone segment. And I’m guessing you know why.”

“Jonas, I really don’t understand —”

Rahil broke off as Kianna stepped past Jonas and leaned her face close to his. She wore a strange expression, almost as if she were in a trance, and her eyes had a faraway look in them, as if she were gazing past Rahil — or perhaps into him — and seeing something that Jonas couldn’t.

“I’ve never been comfortable around you, Rahil,” she said. “There’s always been something about you that made me want to keep my distance. At first, I put it down to the emotional aftereffects of having endured Goa’uld possession, and my therapist agreed. After all, it wasn’t just you. I had trouble trusting anyone.” She gave Jonas a quick glance and then turned back to Rahil. “She told me that after what I’d been through it was only natural that I experience a certain amount of paranoia and mistrust, and she advised me to keep taking my medication and concentrate on my work. As the weeks and months passed, I slowly became able to trust others again — everyone but you. No matter what I did, Rahil, my feelings about you didn’t change. I tried to tell myself that it would just take me a little more time to trust you, but now I realize that I was wrong. My time joined with a Goa’uld symbiote left me with certain things — I have many of her memories and her technical knowledge and skill. But it seems I gained something more — the ability to sniff out others of her kind.”

A cold chill went through Jonas at her words. “Rahil is carrying a symbiote?”

Rahil smiled uncomfortably. “Come now, Kianna, you know that’s simply not possible! All of us are tested regularly for the presence of symbiotes, and we —”

Rahil’s words were cut off as Kianna grabbed hold of his throat with both her hands and began to squeeze. Startled, he dropped his fork and plate.

“Kianna!” Jonas rushed forward, trying to pry her away from Rahil. But her slender frame belied her strength, and the fury and fierce determination on her face bordered on madness.

To Jonas’s surprise, Rahil made no move to defend himself or even pull away from Kianna. His face reddening, he struggled to draw in enough air to speak. The two syllables that emerged were barely more than a whisper, but Jonas was able to make them out.

“Tok… ra.”

“Kianna! Let him go! He’s not Goa’uld — he’s Tok’ra!”

If Kianna heard Jonas, she gave no indication. She continued squeezing Rahil’s throat, her fingers digging into the soft flesh of his neck, his face edging toward purple. But still Rahil did nothing to defend himself, and it was that, more than anything else, which convinced Jonas that the man truly was Tok’ra.

Grabbing hold of Kianna’s hands, Jonus pried them away from Rahil’s neck. She fought him, her face a mask of fury, her eyes wild, trying to pull free so that she could attack Rahil again. He gave her a hard shake, and then another, and finally her body went slack as the tension drained out of her. Jonas then pulled Kianna to him and hugged her tight. At first she just stood limp in his arms, but then she tentatively hugged him back.

Rahil massaged his throat, and his voice was raspy as he spoke. “Thank you, Jonas. I…” He shook his head. “Just thanks.”

Jonas pulled away from Kianna.

“I was… overwhelmed by emotion,” she said. “It all came rushing back in on me. The helplessness of being possessed by the Goa’uld, of being a prisoner in my own body, fully aware but helpless as another consciousness did with me as it wished. Like I was… was nothing more than its plaything.”

She turned away from Jonas to face Rahil. “I’m sorry. I…”

Rahil waved her apology aside. “Given what you experienced, your reaction was perfectly understandable. For my people, the joining of host and symbiote is a mutual act, one that allows both parties to become more than the sum of their individual selves. The Goa’uld force themselves upon their hosts, stifling their consciousness, and dominating their shared body. Such actions are beyond abhorrent to my kind.”

Jonas was still struggling to come to terms with Rahil’s revelation. “How did you get past our bio scans?”

Rahil smiled. “My people have raised espionage to the level of art. We gained samples of the chemical that Kianna’s symbiote used to mask her presence, and we made a few alterations so that it would enable me to pass your scans.”

“For what purpose?” Jonas demanded. “What could the Tok’ra hope to gain by spying on us? Your technology is far more advanced than ours.”

“You underestimate yourself, Jonas. Your work is more sophisticated than you give yourself credit for. But I didn’t come here to spy on you; I came to help you. Once we learned your people were ramping up the development of your space program, we decided to lend a hand.”

“Lend a hand?” Jonas said. “Is that what you call it? Your meddling has endangered my entire world!”

“I admit there have been unforeseen developments, but you cannot deny that progress on both the naquadria cells and the Array moved along at a much faster rate once I joined the project.”

“What good has your help done us?” Kianna challenged. “We now have a semi-sentient satellite system in orbit that’s targeting us with deady energy beams. Is that your idea of progress, Tok’ra?”

Rahil bristled. “As I told you, there were unforeseen —”

“Why the deception?” Jonas interrupted. “If your motives were so pure, you could’ve come to us openly — we would’ve welcomed your aid!”

“Would you?” Rahil challenged. “More to the point, would the Joint Ruling Council? After the Goa’uld that possessed Kianna infiltrated the Ministry of Defense, the Councilors would never have trusted another alien, no matter what his origin. They barely trust the Tauri.”

“Maybe so,” Jonas said. “But you could’ve told me!”

“Perhaps. But I had no wish to cause Kianna any distress. Recovering from forced symbiosis is a difficult process at best. Knowing my true identity might have hindered her recovery.”

Jonas sighed, and he felt a measure of his anger drain away. “Let’s say I believe you. I’ve had enough encounters with the Tok’ra to know that while your altruistic natures are real enough, you always have a hidden agenda. So what is it?”

“Our naquadria deposits,” Kianna said. “That’s what my Goa’uld wanted, remember? The Tok’ra probably hope that we’ll be so grateful for their help in completing the Array that we’ll gladly share some of our naquadria with them.”

“Our primary interest in your naquadria is making sure the System Lords don’t get their hands on it,” Rahil said. “But I admit the thought that you might be willing to share some small portion with us had crossed our minds.”

Jonas shook his head. “Not enough. There has to be more.”

Rahil looked at them both for a long moment before finally sighing. “Very well. Yes, we wanted to help protect the Langaran people, prevent the System Lords from obtaining your naquadria, and perhaps get some of it to use for ourselves. All true. But once we learned of your Array we managed to get hold of the preliminary designs and review them. You did a truly impressive job, Jonas, but you knew there was no way, given the limits of Langaran technology, that you could hope to protect your world against a full-scale attack by a System Lord.”

Kianna turned to Jonas. “Is that true?”

Jonas nodded. “The Councilors refused to believe me — and my friends from Earth — when we tried to explain to them just how powerful the Goa’uld are. I think they’re too scared to believe the truth. The Array will prove effective against a small-scale attack, but if a System Lord chose to come to Langara and bring the full force of his power to bear, the Array would do little more than slow him down, if that.”

“Which is where the Tok’ra come in,” Rahil said. “We’ve been experimenting with a new technology that could make your Array powerful enough to defend against even the full might of a System Lord, and we saw this as an excellent opportunity to field test it.” He smiled. “It’s what the Tauri might call a win-win scenario or…” He frowned, trying to recall the term. “A two-fer, I believe it is.”

An awful suspicion was beginning to form in Jonas’s mind. Once more, he recalled what Rahil had said during the test.

The Array is a fiendishly complicated arrangement of technologies, so there are bound to be some growing pains at first.

Growing pains…

A cold pit opened in the center of Jonas’s gut. “You did something to the naquadria cells, didn’t you? Added something… and it changed the Array satellites.”

“Yes,” Rahil confirmed. “It’s a Tok’ra variant on a technology you’re familiar with, Jonas.”

“And that’s the last reason for your deception, you bastard,” Jonas accused. “You knew that I’d never allow you to add the kind of technology that you’re talking about to the Array.”

“What technology?” Kianna asked. “I don’t understand.”

“We’re talking about an artificial life form whose only purpose is to grow,” Jonas said, his tone cold. “One that reproduces so swiftly it’s spread like a plague across entire galaxies.” He paused, barely able to bring himself to speak the word.

“Replicators.”

CHAPTER TEN

“Welcome to Yggdrasil.”

Sam looked around, trying to gain her bearings. She and the other members of SG-1 stood in the center of a circular chamber, the ceiling, walls, and floor of which were constructed from a smooth, silvery metallic substance. The chamber was illuminated by soft while light that had no obvious source, but it filled the chamber, and there were no shadows anywhere. The architecture was familiar to Sam, and when she saw the small gray-skinned being standing before them, she knew why.

“Odin, I presume,” O’Neill said.

The Asgard inclined his head in acknowledgement. “Yes. You four fought well today. A most impressive performance.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it,” O’Neill said. “We aim to please.”

Like all members of his race, Odin wore no clothing. Since the Asgard reproduced by cloning, they were no longer technically male or female and possessed no genitals. Thus, they had no need for modesty. It was difficult for humans to tell one Asgard apart from another, so much so that Sam sometimes wondered how the Asgard themselves managed to do it. Millennia of cloning had rendered the Asgard so genetically similar that they were virtually carbon copies of one another. Only subtle differences in vocal inflections, speech patterns, and movements differentiated them.

But Odin possessed a noticeable physical difference from his brethren: his right eye was missing, just as in his holographic guise of the Norse god Odin.

There was something else different about him, too. Hovering close to his shoulders were two small silver ovoids, similar to what Sam had seen when Surtr’s form had shifted between different aspects on the battlefield.

Daniel nodded to the ovoids. “I take it those are Huginn and Munnin.”

“They are,” Odin said. “And when required, they are also the valkyrie and her horse.”

“Hah!” O’Neill burst out. “So that means technically the horse can fly!” Everyone looked at him and he shrugged. “I’m just saying.”

“The ravens beamed us off the battlefield and transported us here, didn’t they?” Sam asked.

“Yes,” Odin confirmed. “After fulfilling their respective roles as the valkyrie and her steed, they reappeared in the sky in their raven guises to monitor the battle. When things began to… go badly, I had them bring you to me.”

“About that things going badly stuff,” O’Neill said. “Would you mind explaining that? I mean, fire giants, insanely powerful windstorms…”

“Norse armies that evolve several centuries overnight,” Daniel added.

“Of course,” Odin said. “This is, after all, why I’ve brought you here. Follow me, please.”

The Asgard turned and began walking toward the wall, his two “ravens” keeping pace with him. As he drew near a section of the wall, a seam appeared in the silvery metal and a door silently opened. The members of SG-1 looked at each other and then followed their host. They entered a hallway formed of the same silvery substance, and the door flowed shut behind them.

“I have a good buddy among your people,” O’Neill said. “Name of Thor. From what I understand of Norse legend, Odin was supposed to be Thor’s father.”

“If you know of my people, Colonel O’Neill, then you know that we left behind such familial relationships millennia ago. Still, I was once Thor’s teacher… so long ago that I can barely remember. I suppose that qualifies as something of a father-son relationship, does it not?”

Daniel spoke next. “In myth, Yggdrasil was the tree from which the world of Midgard — meaning Earth — grew. I’m assuming that this is your spaceship?”

Odin nodded. “Though I have not used it as such since coming to this world almost a thousand years ago.”

“Funny, you don’t look a day over five hundred,” O’Neill said.

Odin glanced back over his shoulder to look at O’Neill. “I am far older than that, Colonel. And I’m afraid my age is beginning to catch up to me.”

“Your eye,” Daniel said.

Odin turned to face forward once more. “Yes. I broke with my fellow Asgard two thousand years ago in order to pursue my research. Since then, I have been forced to clone new bodies for myself and download my consciousness into them. Unfortunately, with only my own genetic material to work with, my bio pattern has become degraded over the long years. My eye is only the most obvious symptom of my genetic degradation. My entire body has become so weak that it can barely function on its own.”

“You seem to be doing all right,” O’Neill said. “I mean, I don’t know if you can do cartwheels or anything, but you’re walking just fine.”

“My ravens do much more than gather information for me, Colonel,” Odin said. “Their energies also boost my physical strength. I can do without them for short periods of time, but if it wasn’t for their assistance, I would be virtually immobile. An unfortunate result of my isolation, but one that I do not regret. My work is too important.”

The companions glanced at one another, and Sam knew what they were all thinking. By and large the Asgard were a wise, benign race — good friends and staunch allies of Earth. But SG-1 had encountered rogue Asgard before, most noticeably Loki, a geneticist who over the course of decades had abducted Earth humans and experimented on them in hope of finding a way to improve the Asgard cloning process. Could Odin be another rogue Asgard with a similarly twisted agenda? If so, would he prove to be an enemy?

O’Neill gave no spoken order, but he didn’t have to. SG-1 would remain alert and wait to see what Odin’s game was, and if he proved to be an enemy… Well, they’d face that when and if the time came.

They continued walking until they came to the end of the corridor. Another door opened, and they passed through into a new chamber. It was constructed of the same metallic substance as the rest of the ship, and it too possessed rounded walls and ceiling. But it was much larger than the chamber SG-1 had been beamed into, and it was filled with scientific equipment. Sam recognized a small Asgard cloning facility on the far side of the chamber, and there were multiple control panels spread throughout, each of which contained rows of Asgard command stones. Sam had a basic understanding of how the stones worked, but the technology behind them was way beyond her, much like an Earth child that could access the Internet on a computer but possessed only the most rudimentary knowledge of how it worked.

The most impressive piece of equipment lay in the middle of the chamber. It was a large round opening in the middle of the floor, with a corresponding opening in the ceiling above it. Blue-white light pulsed within the twin circles, and the chamber was filled with a soft hum of power. The air smelled vaguely of ozone and hot circuitry, and Sam wondered if the device, like Odin, was so ancient that it no longer operated at peak efficiency. Or worse, if it was on the verge of failing.

Odin walked up to the edge of the circular glowing pit and stopped. SG-1 joined him.

“Behold my crowning achievement,” Odin said. “The Well of Mimir.”

Sam and the others looked into the glowing energy within the pit. She thought she saw shapes swirling within the blue-white, almost like roiling mists or surging water currents. She knew it was probably nothing more than a simple optical illusion, but the effect was almost hypnotic.

“Not to be critical,” O’Neill said, “but why didn’t you call it the Well of Odin? I mean, considering that it’s your crowning achievement and all.”

“I think I can answer that, Jack,” Daniel said. “The Asgard language has a word similar to Mimir: memeera. It means illusion or duplicate, if I’m not mistaken.”

“You are not,” Odin said. “In their legends, the Norse people of your world cast the Well as a repository of knowledge. In some ways they were not far off the mark, for by using the Well I hope to gain the knowledge to save my race from extinction.”

“A noble goal indeed,” Teal’c said. “But how will this device help you achieve it?”

“Thousands of years ago,” Odin began, “when the Asgard first resorted to cloning to preserve our race, we knew there would be a limit to how long we could sustain a sufficient amount of genetic diversity among our people to continue reproducing. Some of us believed that alternative methods should be investigated. One group experimented with the creation of artificial life forms into which we could download our consciousness, but they were never able to develop an artificial brain sophisticated enough to house the full essence of the Asgard mind. Another group — of which I was a part — experimented with developing a virtual existence for our people. We learned how to transfer an Asgard consciousness into a computer-simulated reality that seemed real in every detail. But within the virtual reality, our ability to interact with actual reality was extremely limited. The High Council debated the matter, and decided that there was little purpose to an extended existence if we could not live and act in the real universe. And so the Council ordered the experiments to be terminated.”

“But you decided to keep going,” Sam said.

Odin nodded. “Yes. I believed that we would never be able to overcome the physical limitations of cloning.” He pointed to his wrinkled flap of skin where his missing eye would’ve been. “Am I not proof of this? I was convinced that we needed to find different technological means of preserving our race, but one that would permit us to still exist within the real world.”

Suddenly so many of the things that Sam had witnessed since arriving on Valhalla began to make sense. “Holograms!” she said. “You decided to adapt Asgard hologram technology to create a virtual existence for your people that would still allow them to interact with physical reality.”

Understanding moved across Daniel’s face. “Mimir: illusion, duplicate. We’re talking holographic copies of living beings.”

“Not copies, Dr. Jackson,” Odin said. “Think of them rather as expressions of living beings. The consciousnesses of the Vanir and Jotun exist here, within the Well. The Well transmits their awareness to portable holographic generators I call effectors, much like those of Huginn and Munnin.”

“So when Surtr’s form changed from one aspect to another,” Sam said, “I caught glimpses of his effector.”

“Yes,” Odin confirmed.

Now that Sam thought of it, the ovoid-shaped holo-generators rather resembled Asgard stones, though without runes emblazoned on the sides.

“But how can the Vanir and Jotun be holograms?” O’Neill asked. “They’re solid. You can touch them, feel it when they hit you. Hell, you can smell them! And just a suggestion for the future, but you might think about programming them not to stink so much.”

Asgard didn’t possess the facial muscles to smile, though they did demonstrate a dry sense of humor from time to time. From the tone of Odin’s voice when he answered, Sam had the impression that he was amused by the Colonel’s words.

“Part of my goal is to make holographic existence as real for my people as possible,” Odin said. “I want them to be able to not only see and hear, but taste, and touch, and smell too. I wish them to experience the full richness of physical existence. When their holographic bodies are activated, they don’t merely appear to have physical selves: they do — just selves made of energy instead of flesh and bone.”

“It’s not so different from our state of existence,” Sam said. “Technically, all matter is made up of energy anyway.”

“Maybe so,” O’Neill said. “But at least I give my energy a good shower once a day and put some deodorant on it.”

“So now we know how the Norse warriors are resurrected each day to fight anew,” Teal’c said. “They are merely reset, like the avatars in an electronic game.”

“A crude comparison,” Odin said, “but accurate enough. And if one’s effector is damaged, I bring it back here to repair it.”

“Hence your choosing warriors to return to your home to feast with you each night,” Daniel said.

“Yes, and I also bring those whose effectors need standard maintenance and adjustment.”

“Why have the Norsemen engage in endless battle?” Sam said. “Surely there are other ways to test your technology.”

“Two reasons,” Odin said. “First and most simply, this is what the Norsemen believe Valhalla should be: a paradise where they can test their strength and bravery each day. So that is what I provide for them. Another reason is that the speed and complexity of battle conditions make for extremely effective tests of my technology’s versatility.”

“And that’s why the Norsemen advanced in weaponry and tactics overnight,” Daniel said. “So you can test your holograms under different battle conditions.”

“Yes,” Odin said. “And, as you said at one point, Colonel O’Neill, eternity could get tedious doing the same thing day after day. By varying the battle conditions, I can keep things interesting for my subjects, though to avoid too much confusion on their parts, their effectors are programmed to make them accept the changes without question.”

“This is all very interesting and educational,” O’Neill said. “But there’s one thing that’s bugging me — where did you get the subjects for your experiments?”

A chill ran down Sam’s spine as she realized the implications of the Colonel’s words. “If the Vanir and Jotun are consciousnesses that are projected via their effectors…”

“Who did those consciousnesses originally belong to?” Daniel said.

“And do they have any say in how they are being used?” Teal’c finished.

O’Neill folded his arms. “My thoughts exactly.”

The team looked at Odin, and the Asgard hesitated before answering. “You have hit upon an ethical dilemma at the heart of my research,” he said. “Despite what you might be thinking, I did not abduct the subjects for my experiments, and they have all agreed to assist me — in a sense. As you know, my race had contact with the Nordic peoples of your Earth centuries ago. We were impressed by their strength and bravery, and we hoped to curb the tendency toward savagery that they demonstrated in their Viking raids. In truth, they reminded us of how we once were, untold millennia in the past. When I chose to disobey the High Council’s decision and experiment on my own, I could not ask any of my fellow Asgard to volunteer as subjects. So I traveled to Earth and sent my ravens abroad to search for warriors who were dying on the field of battle. They discovered two tribes — the Vanir and the Jotun — who had warred with each other for the better part of a century. The tribes were in the midst of a war which threatened to decimate their peoples, in much the same way as my people faced extinction. I decided that they would make for effective subjects, and so when my ravens came across the latest site of battle between the tribes, they searched for a Vanir or Jotun warrior on the verge of death, and they then appeared to him as the valkyrie and her horse. The valkyrie would ask the warrior if he wished to come to Valhalla and help Odin in his attempt to stave off Ragnarok — the end of all. If a warrior agreed, the valkyrie would download his consciousness and bring it to me. I would then store the consciousness here in the Well. When I had enough, four hundred altogether, I departed Earth and traveled to this world so that I could begin my experiments.

“My ethical dilemma is this: I have explained my situation to the warriors in terms that they can understand, and they agreed to help me. Whenever I perform maintenance on an effector, I once again ask the individual consciousness linked to it if he wishes to continue helping me. All so far have continued to give their assent — except one.”

“Let me guess,” O’Neill said. “Surtr.”

Odin nodded. “My original intention was to simply deactivate an individual’s effector if he chose not to help me anymore. But Surtr doesn’t wish to ‘die,’ as he sees it. He wishes to be free — and that is something I cannot give him. While I have made many improvements to the technology over the centuries, the effectors can only function within a specific distance from my ship. Even if I gave Surtr his freedom, there is nowhere for him to go. And if I choose to deactivate his effector against his will, it will be the same as killing him.”

“That’s a pretty big dilemma you got there,” O’Neill said. “It’s the kind of thing you really should’ve thought out before starting on your little project, don’t you think?”

“Yes,” Odin said. “And I wish I had. But the fact remains that I did not, and now I do not know what to do with Surtr. I even revealed my true self to him and offered to give him a cloned Asgard body to house his consciousness, but he refused. He did not wish to live in the body of an imp, as he called me. I wiped his memory of that experience, but his rebellious nature remained. And as you have seen, it’s beginning to have an effect on the entire system.”

“Surtr’s transformations,” Sam said. “The way he can summon his sword to his hand, even the windstorms…They’re all because he’s in there” — she pointed to the Well — “exerting his will on everything else as he attempts to break free.”

“And ‘everything else’ is more than just the Jotun and Vanir, isn’t it?” Daniel said. “It’s their longhouses, the valley where their battles take place, even the forest we traveled through on our way from the Stargate — that’s why we found no signs of animal, bird, or insect life there. You didn’t program any.”

“Creating a fully realized environment seemed an unnecessary allocation of resources,” Odin said. “After all, I do not wish to create an entire world for the Asgard, just holographic bodies they can use to inhabit an already established reality.”

“So what’s this place really look like?” O’Neill said.

“Elsewhere, the planet contains numerous plant and animal species, but here it is little more than a barren, rocky landscape,” Odin said. “I desired a blank canvas upon which to work, you see.”

“And preferably one near a Stargate,” Daniel said. “Just in case you ever needed another way off the planet.”

Odin nodded. “Valhalla is the perfect location for my project.” The Asgard gazed down at the swirling energies contained with the Well of Mimir. “At least, it was, before Surtr began rebelling against me. Surtr has become increasingly strong over the last few years. As leader of the Jotun he’s able to subordinate his men’s will to his own, and he draws upon their combined strength whenever he tests the bounds of my system. I work to maintain system stability, but it takes an ever-increasing amount of power, and even then scenario integrity becomes compromised —  as you have all witnessed. And my equipment is so old… I have done my best to keep it in good repair over the centuries, replacing components when necessary, performing system workarounds when spare parts were unavailable. However, I fear that I have reached the limits of my knowledge and ability.” He sighed. “Soon the power system will fail and all my work will have come to nothing. The minds of the Vanir and Jotun will be lost, and my people will still face inevitable extinction.”

“What of the Asgard?” Teal’c asked. “Can you not contact them and ask for their assistance? It has been many years since the High Council ordered your experimentation to end. Perhaps they will be understanding of your current situation.”

“And if you can demonstrate that you’ve made progress in your work…” Sam added.

“I have attempted to communicate with my brethren on several occasions,” Odin said. “Each time they have denied my requests for aid, claiming that they do not have the resources to help me in my work.”

“They have been pretty busy the last few years,” O’Neill said, “what with trying to keep the galaxy from being taken over by Goa’uld System Lords, Replicators, and what not.”

“I know we aren’t Asgard,” Daniel said, “but we might be able to supply you with replacement components for your system. Our technology wouldn’t be nearly as sophisticated as yours, of course, but you might be able to make it work.”

“Oh!” Sam had one of those Ah-ha! moments that scientists live for, when pieces of separate puzzles come together to form a brand-new picture. “If power is a big part of your problem, Odin, I think I know a place where we might be able to get you all that you need — and more. A friend of ours has just finished developing a naquadria power cell.”

Odin gave her a puzzled look.

“Naquadria is a rare and far more powerful form of naquadah,” Sam explained. “I’ve seen the specs for the cells, and if they live up to their design, a half dozen or so should be able to power your facility for the next hundred years.”

“That’s a great idea, Sam!” Daniel said. But his enthusiasm quickly waned. “Assuming we can get the Joint Ruling Council to agree to share a few of the naquadria cells with us.”

“Those guys?” O’Neill said. “They’re pains in the ass, no doubt about it, but we helped haul their collective butt out of the fire a few months ago. They owe us.”

“I am not confident they will share your view, O’Neill,” Teal’c said.

“Then I’ll sweet talk them. I’m good at that.”

“If by good, you mean lousy, then I agree,” Daniel said.

O’Neill scowled at his friend but didn’t argue.

Silence fell over them, and Sam found herself looking down into the Well once more. “What’s happening outside, on the battlefield?”

“Come, I will show you.” White light flared around Odin’s ravens and they vanished. The Asgard staggered, and for a second Sam thought he was going to fall. But he waved away their concern and, moving with slow, deliberate steps, led the team away from the Well toward a console a few yards away. Using his long, slender fingers, Odin manipulated the Asgard stones set into the console and a holographic screen appeared in the air before them.

The screen showed an aerial view — courtesy of the transported Huginn and Munnin, Sam realized — of a lifeless, rock-strewn plain upon which hundreds of dead bodies were scattered. Some of them wore eighteenth century military garb, some wore Viking regalia, and some wore a strange mixture of the two. Weapons — swords, muskets, sabers, and war axes — lay abandoned on the ground or clutched in the hands of the dead. In the midst of this carnage, a single figure stood: ten feet tall, crimson-skinned, hair and beard flecked with flame, eyes blazing with rage. The remnants of Surtr’s uniform hung in tatters from his body, and the cloth was smeared with blood, none of it his, Sam was certain. Fierce winds blasted the battlefield, but Surtr stood strong against their fury.

In his right hand, Surtr clutched Baldr’s head. The monstrous giant looked to the heavens, obviously aware he was being observed. He lifted Baldr’s head skyward and bellowed Odin’s name.

“We’ll get right to work on finding you some new batteries,” O’Neill said softly. “But first we’re gonna need that key you promised us — to the DHD.”

CHAPTER ELEVEN

“I’m not sure what you’re doing is such a good idea, Jonas. Your people need the Array. Without it, they’re defenseless against Goa’uld attack.”

Jonas had taken a seat at the Array’s main control console and he was busy keying in a series of numbers.

“I have to shut it down, Rahil. We all saw how it behaved during the test.”

Kianna stood behind Jonas and put a hand on his shoulder. “The Array is a machine, an incredibly sophisticated one, yes, but it’s still just a piece of technology, Jonas. It can’t behave. It just does what it’s programmed to.”

“Not anymore,” Jonas said. “Not since Rahil introduced Replicator technology into the Array’s system.”

“An adaptation of Replicator technology,” Rahil said. “One created by the Tok’ra under very controlled conditions and tested thoroughly before being brought to Langara.”

Jonas continued entering commands into the main console. “Tested with naquadria cells as a power base?”

“Well, no,” Rahil admitted. “Naquadria cells were only recently created and they exist on this world alone, you know that. We did run some simulations…”

“Replicators are like living things in the sense that they exist solely to grow and reproduce,” Jonas said. He could feel panic rising, and he fought to control it. “Giving them naquadria energy to draw on is like giving a biological entity mega-doses of growth hormone. There’s no telling how intelligent or powerful they’ll become.”

“I know something of Replicators,” Kianna said, “both from the memories of my Goa’uld and from things you’ve told me, Jonas. Are they really as dangerous as they seem?”

“They’re like a virulent disease that grows and spreads swiftly, evolving into ever more sophisticated forms with each generation,” Jonas said. “They are a disease that cannot be cured or contained — only destroyed.”

“Is that what you’re seeking to do now?” she asked. “Destroy the Array?”

“I’m hoping it won’t come to that,” Jonas said. “If I can order the Array to deactivate itself, the naquadria cells will power down. Denied any more ‘food,’ the Replicators will hopefully stop reproducing and evolving. That may give us a chance to remove them from the Array without destroying it.”

Jonas would hate to see all the time, effort, and expense of creating the Array go to waste. Rahil was right about one thing: the Langaran people needed to be defended from alien attack. But if destroying the Array was the only way to prevent the Replicator scourge from spreading, Jonas would have no qualms about doing so.

Rahil moved to Jonas’s side and peered at the monitor. “If what you suggest if true, and the Array has attained limited self-awareness, it will realize that you’re attempting to shut it down and it will refuse to accept the command.”

“That might be true,” Jonas allowed, “but I’m not following the standard shutdown procedure. I built a failsafe into the system that only I know about. Once I get the program up and running, all I have to do is enter a simple command, and all systems within the Array will power down instantly. There won’t be time for the Array to counteract the command.”

To Jonas’s surprise, Rahil smiled. “Very good, Jonas. That’s a level of deviousness worthy of a Tok’ra.”

“I suppose I’ll take that as a compliment,” Jonas muttered. “There. The failsafe program is active. Now all I need to do —”

Before Jonas could finish his sentence, the monitor went dark. A split second later, the rest of the monitors in the control room also stopped working.

“What just happened?” Kianna asked.

Jonas felt a cold twist of fear in his gut. “The Array just happened. It must’ve been using its sensors to monitor what I was doing, and once it realized I was going to shut it down, it shut me down first.”

“But its sensors aren’t that sophisticated!”

“They are now, thanks to the upgrade Rahil gave them.” He slapped his palm against the keyboard in frustration. “Damn it! Now there’s no way we can deactivate the Array!”

“This isn’t possible,” Rahil said. He sounded genuinely bewildered and more than a little afraid. “My people installed multiple safeguards to prevent the replicator technology from exceeding the parameters of its programming. It shouldn’t —” He looked down at the sensor display in shock. “Oh no.”

Before Jonas could ask what was wrong, warning lights on the walls began flashing and a low tone sounded repeatedly throughout the building. The Ministry of Defense’s alarms had been activated.

Horror gripped Jonas as he realized what was happening. “The Array has decided the Ministry is a threat, and it’s targeting us! We have to evacuate the building!”

He sprang out of his chair, grabbed Kianna’s hand, and pulled her toward the control room’s exit, Rahil following close behind. As they ran, the Tok’ra removed a communication device from his pocket and raised it to his mouth.

“This is Rahil! Replicator technology has seized control of the Array and it’s targeting the Langaran Ministry of Defense. Do what you can to stop —”

They made it as far as the corridor before a bright flash filled the control room and the world disappeared in a rush of light and noise.

Jonas stood at a workstation in his lab, going over the test results for the latest generation of naquadria power cells. They hadn’t performed up to expectations, and he was having a difficult time determining why. He thought perhaps some unknown outside factor had interfered with the cells’ subatomic reaction, but so far he couldn’t —

The lab door opened and Kianna entered.

Looking up from the monitor Jonas smiled at his wife. “This is a pleasant surprise. I thought you had a doctor’s appointment.”

Kianna smiled as she came toward him. “I did, I’m done, and now I’m here to see you.”

Her eyes were bright with excitement and her voice contained a barely suppressed eagerness, as it was all she could do to keep words from tumbling out of her mouth in a confused jumble. Jonas felt his own excitement begin to build, and he crossed to meet Kianna halfway. He took her in his arms and kissed her, and when he pulled away, she grinned, and he already what she was going to tell him before she spoke.

“We’re going to have a baby, Jonas!”

Jonas laughed, hugged her tight, and then kissed her again, and this time their kiss lingered for some moments. When they finally parted, Jonas asked, “How far along are you?”

“The doctor says I could deliver any day now!”

Jonas frowned, uncertain that he had heard her correctly. “But… you’re not even showing.”

Kianna looked down at her flat stomach, gently placed her hands upon it, and smiled as she began lightly stroking her abdomen.

“The doctor said that happens sometimes and we shouldn’t worry about it. It’s perfectly natural.”

Jonas felt cold, like ice water running through his veins. Kianna still had some psychological scars from when she was forced to play host to a Goa’uld symbiote, but with therapy and medication she’d been doing fine the last couple years. In fact, Kianna’s doctor had lowered the dosage of her medicine considerably over the past few months, and she’d been doing so well he was considering taking her off it altogether. But now this… Jonas feared that something had caused the trauma Kianna had suffered under the symbiote’s dominance to resurface. Why else would she be having the delusion that she was not only pregnant but at full term and ready to deliver?

Jonas gently took hold of her hands. “Kianna, I know this is hard to hear, but there’s no way you can be —”

Kianna grimaced then, cutting him off, and her hands tightened like vices on his. Her grip was so strong that Jonas couldn’t help grimacing himself.

“Jonas I think —” Another grimace, and a line of sweat broke out on her brow. “I think it’s —” She gritted her teeth against a fresh wave of pain. “— time.”

“But that’s not possible!”

Despite his disbelief that Kianna was pregnant, Jonas knew that something was causing her pain, even if it was only in her mind, and he gently helped her lie down on the floor. He knelt beside her and held her hand while brushing his fingers across her sweaty brow.

“Kianna, I need to call a doctor. Just lie here for a moment while I —”

Kianna cried out as muscles spasms wracked her body. She gritted her teeth against the pain, her jaw clenched and the chords of muscles in her neck pulled taut.

Kianna spoke then, each word an effort to get out. “No… time. It’s… coming!”

Jonas started to tell her once again that this simply wasn’t possible, but then her abdomen bulged, as if there was something inside — something that wanted out. Jonas knew he should run to the workstation and summon help, but he was unable to make his body move. All he could do was kneel at Kianna’s side, frozen in terrified fascination, as the thing inside her — for surely it couldn’t be a baby, could it? — pushed to be free.

Could it be a symbiote? But the Goa’uld inside Kianna had been removed at Stargate Command after it had died. There was no way the thing inside her could be a symbiote. But then what was it?

Kianna’s eyes flew wide and her mouth gaped open in a soundless scream. A thin line of blood trickled from the corner of her mouth, and her body went rigid as stone. Then she fell limp and her head lolled to the side, eyes sightless and unblinking.

“Kianna!” Jonas screamed his wife’s name, but before he could react further, her abdomen distended to a horrible degree, the mound of stretched-tight flesh pushing her top upward. As Jonas watched, skin tore and blood poured down the sides as something emerged from his dead wife’s womb.

Segmented metallic arms slick with blood reached out from Kianna’s body cavity and pulled the rest of the creature into the light. Jonas had just enough time to recognize the spider-like thing as a Replicator before it launched itself toward him.

“Jonas! Jonas, can you hear me?”

The voice seemed to be coming from somewhere far off in the darkness, and Jonas’s consciousness grabbed onto it as if it were a lifeline. He used the voice to pull himself back to awareness and opened his eyes.

The face was blurry, and at first he didn’t recognize it, but then his vision grew sharper and he smiled at Kianna. His nightmare was already fading rapidly and the details were fuzzy, but he remembered something terrible had happened to her in his dream. He was relieved to see her kneeling next to him, alive and unharmed, and he reached up to touch her cheek. The movement sent a sharp jolt of pain running down his arm and into his shoulder, but he ignored it. All that mattered was Kianna was here with him.

Jonas drew in a breath to speak and the smoke-tainted air made him cough. It took him a moment to regain his voice. “You’re all right.”

“The explosion was confined to the control room for the most part,” she said, “but we were still tossed around pretty hard.”

Explosion? What was she — ? And then he noticed that her hair was mussed, and that she had a cut on her chin. He struggled to sit up, surprised to find himself lying on the floor. They were in a corridor that was rapidly filling with smoke, and the sonorous tone of an alarm sounded over and over. He didn’t — Then it all returned to him in a rush: the Array, the Replicators, the Tok’ra…

“Rahil?” He looked around, trying to spot the man, and a sharp pain lanced through his neck, making him wince. A wave of dizziness came over him and he thought he might fall over onto his side.

Kianna quickly put her arm around his shoulders to steady him. “Take it easy. You put yourself between the control room and me just before the explosion, and —” she paused to cough — “and you caught the worst of it. Thanks, by the way.”

His dizziness subsided, but didn’t go away entirely. He forced a weak smile. “Anytime. Now where’s Rahil? We have to get out of here.”

Though the air was hazy with smoke, the fire-suppressor system in the corridor hadn’t activated yet. Jonas figured that could mean the fire was contained in the control room, or this part of the building had been so badly damaged by the Array’s strike that none of the fire-suppressors were working. In either case, they needed to get to safety.

A distant part of Jonas’s mind marveled that the Ministry of Defense hadn’t been completely destroyed by the Array’s attack. Had the Array somehow malfunctioned? Had something interfered with the energy beam, weakening it, or partially deflecting it?

“I haven’t seen Rahil,” Kianna said. “I’m afraid he might not have made it.”

Before Jonas could respond to that, a hissing sound filled the air and the smoke began to clear. The ventilator system had finally kicked in, and within seconds Jonas found he could breathe more easily. He could also see more clearly, and he spotted Rahil a half dozen yards away in front of the broken, twisted remains of the control room’s entrance. Rahil lay face down amid shards of broken glass and twisted bits of metal. A widening pool of blood spread out from the ragged wound in his shoulder where his right arm had been attached. The arm itself lay several feet away from Rahil’s body.

Kianna gasped in horror at the sight, and Jonas forced himself to his feet. He staggered toward Rahil, keeping one hand on the corridor wall to steady himself as he went. Kianna followed and slipped an arm around his waist as support. Jonas wasn’t a medic, but he’d had first-aid training when he served with SG-1, and he knew that even with a Tok’ra’s sturdy constitution and accelerated healing ability, Rahil would bleed to death if something wasn’t done swiftly to save him.

The next few minutes passed in a blur as Jonas struggled to maintain his hold on consciousness and tie a tourniquet around Rahil’s shoulder, while Kianna used Jonas’s rolled-up shirt to staunch the wound. Jonas was vaguely aware of voices coming from down the hall, and he looked up to see a team of emergency medical personnel running toward them.

At that point, he decided it was probably okay to lapse into unconsciousness, and so he did.

“What did you do with the arm? My host is rather fond of it, and — not to make a joke — I’d grown rather attached to it myself.”

Jonas smiled at Rahil. “It’s preserved in cryostasis.”

“Good,” Rahil said. “My people will be able to reattach it in due course.”

Rahil lay in a bed in the Ministry of Defense’s on-site medical facility. The Tok’ra’s arm stump was heavily bandaged, he was hooked up to several medical monitors, and an IV drip was attached to his remaining arm. Everyone else who’d been injured in the attack had been treated and released — including Jonas and Kianna. Only Rahil had been severely injured, and if it hadn’t been for his symbiote’s healing power, both host and Tok’ra would have died.

Kianna stood on the other side of Rahil’s bed. “Your arm should be reattached as soon as possible, before the shoulder wound has a chance to heal over. The symbiote has a certain amount of control over the healing process, but he can’t keep a wound open for long. Soon it’ll be too late to perform the procedure.”

Both men looked at her, and she colored in embarrassment.

“Sorry. Another memory echo left by my symbiote,” she explained.

“You’re right, of course,” Rahil said. “But there’s not time for that now. If the arm is preserved as you say, Tok’ra surgeons will be able to reattach it for me at a later date. I’ll ask the doctor to cauterize the wound so it will heal more swiftly, and I should be ready to get back to work in an hour. Ninety minutes at most.”

Jonas was about to protest when Kianna spoke once more.

“He’s not exaggerating,” she said. “As long as none of the host’s major organs were damaged, the symbiote can heal the shoulder wound with minimal trouble, especially under controlled medical conditions like this.”

Jonas found it more than a little strange to hear Kianna talking like that, as if she still possessed a symbiote. Worse, as if she admired what a symbiote could do and almost missed having one. Intellectually, he knew this was a good sign. If Kianna could tolerate being around a Tok’ra and could talk about her own symbiote dispassionately, it meant she had truly come to terms with her possession by a Goa’uld. Still, Jonas couldn’t help feeling that this conversation was, as his Earth friends might put it, icky.

“I appreciate your willingness to help,” Jonas said, “but don’t you think you’ve done enough?” This last part came out more harshly than Jonas intended, but he couldn’t help himself. And why should he? Thanks to the Tok’ra’s interference, however well-meaning it might have been, the Array had been transformed from a defensive tool into a semi-sentient Replicator-hybrid — one powered by dozens of naquadria power cells.

Rahil’s expression became grim. “It’s precisely because of what I’ve done that I have to help, Jonas. My people — I — made this mess, and I’m responsible for helping to clean it up.” He paused. “That is, if you’ll trust me.”

“I’m not so sure we can.” Jonas glanced at Kianna. “But the truth is we’re going to need your technical expertise — and your knowledge of the modifications you made — if we’re to have any hope of stopping the Array.”

“Are you going to tell the Ruling Council about me?” Rahil asked.

Jonas looked at him for a long moment before replying. “If I tell them who you really are, and what you’ve done, they’ll have you imprisoned. If I don’t tell them and they find out the truth on their own, they’ll have me imprisoned for concealing it from them. It would mean the end of my career. Everything that I’ve worked for, all the good I’d hoped to do for Langara… gone in an instant.”

Jonas fell silent as he thought through the implications of the choice that lay before him.

“Right now, my world needs your help, Rahil. Nothing else matters. I’ll deal with the Council’s reaction later — assuming we all survive.”

“Thank you, Jonas,” Rahil said. “I won’t let you down. So, let us turn to the problem before us. From what I gather, only the control room was destroyed, yes?”

Jonas nodded. “The Array conducted a precise surgical strike, and while its energy beam sliced through a dozen floors before reaching the control room, the damage it did to them was minimal, and amazingly no one was injured. Though whether that was the Array’s doing or pure coincidence is impossible to say.”

“The Array is programmed to protect Langara and its people,” Kianna pointed out. “It could’ve destroyed the entire Ministry of Defense, but it chose not to. Even the structural damage to the building was limited.”

“True,” Jonas said, “but the Array’s programming — at least, its original programming — doesn’t allow it to act independently, but it did. Twice.”

“What do you…?” He trailed off. “It targeted my ship, didn’t it?”

Jonas nodded. “I assumed it was yours. At the same time one of the Array’s satellites focused an energy beam on the Ministry building, a second beam struck your ship. That strike alone didn’t disable the craft, so three more satellites joined in, and together they had enough power to breech the shields. The Array targeted both the ship’s hyperdrive and sublight engines, disabling them. Then it remotely seized control of the ship’s computer, fired maneuvering thrusters, and caused the craft to leave orbit and descend toward the planet’s surface.

“The pilot was able to use the thrusters and what remained of the shields to keep the craft from being destroyed in reentry, but when the Array took control of the ship’s computer, it deactivated the life-support system and locked the controls so the pilot couldn’t turn it back on. The pilot managed to land the ship more or less intact on the outskirts of the city, but she… didn’t make it.”

The news clearly stunned Rahil, and he lay quietly for a moment as he struggled to process this revelation.

When at last he spoke again, he said, “Why that way? Why so… so cruel?”

“Not cruel,” Jonas said. “Logical. Pure, cold, remorseless logic. The Array is programmed not to waste power. It had already been forced to use three beams to break through the ship’s shields. Why waste more power exploding the ship? Why risk having to waste more power to deal with any leftover debris? Once engines were disabled, it took relatively little power to seize command of the vessel — an ability no doubt granted by your Replicator upgrade — and send it toward Langara. Deactivating life support was supposed to make sure the pilot died before being able to regain control of the craft and perhaps resume the attack on the Array.”

“Except the Array didn’t know how strong the Tok’ra’s symbiote was,” Kianna said, “and the pilot lived long enough to crash-land her craft.”

“Emergency crews were dispatched and were waiting at the scene when the ship came down,” Jonas said. “But there was nothing they could do for the pilot. I’m sorry.”

“Now I have even more reason to help you,” Rahil said, his voice tight. “The pilot’s name was Avarene. She was… we were…” A tear rolled from the corner of Rahil’s eye. “I need to heal as swiftly as possible if I’m to be of any use to you. Please tell the doctor I wish him to cauterize my wound immediately, and afterward I will rest. One hour, Jonas. That’s all I’ll need. Then I’ll be ready.”

Without waiting for a reply, Rahil closed his eyes.

Jonas and Kianna looked at the man for a moment longer, and then — because there was nothing more they could say or do — they went in search of the doctor.

“We are not happy about this situation, Jonas.”

Jonas wasn’t normally prone to anger, but he was sorely tempted to put his fist through the lab’s monitor screen right then, and if Kianna hadn’t been standing close by, he well might have. He forced himself to take a deep breath before responding to First Minister Dreylock’s words.

“You do realize that if you and your fellow Councilors hadn’t pushed for the Array to be tested as soon as possible, my team wouldn’t have been so rushed, and I would’ve had time to thoroughly check each component before it was installed.”

Given the short deadline, Jonas had been forced to rely on his team — including Rahil — more than he’d been comfortable with. Even if he’d had the opportunity to examine everything, Jonas knew he might not have detected the addition of the Tok’ra-Replicator hybrid nanotech to the naquadria power cells. Rahil had doubtless taken great pains to conceal his tampering. Not that Jonas planned to tell any of this to Dreylock.

Dreylock’s mouth tightened, and for a moment Jonas thought he’d finally pushed her too far, but a moment later she sighed, and all the anger drained out of her.

“In retrospect, perhaps my fellow Councilors and I did put undue pressure on you to test the Array before you were ready. And for that, you have our apologies.”

Jonas couldn’t help glancing at Kianna to see if she was as surprised as he by Dreylock’s admission. Kianna gave him a wry half-smile, as if to say, Will wonders never cease?

Jonas turned back to the monitor screen. “Thank you for that, First Minister, but what’s most important right now is finding a way to deal with the problem. So far, we’ve managed to keep the media from discovering the truth about what happened. They believe the Array’s strike on the Ministry building was instead the result of an experiment of ours that went wrong.” Which, strictly speaking, wasn’t a lie.

“And this nanotechnology that’s infected the Array…? You have no idea where it came from?”

Up to this point, Jonas hadn’t directly lied to Councilor Dreylock; he’d only refrained from telling her the full truth. But now he had no choice if he wanted to keep Rahil’s true identity a secret. He recalled an Earth saying then: in for a penny, in for a pound.

He took a deep breath and started. “The level of nanotechnology involved is well beyond our capabilities, but during the push to develop our space program we traded with offworld allies to obtain certain technologies we needed. It’s possible one of the components we received was infected with the nanotech. We examined every piece of equipment thoroughly, but given the rapidity with which this technology replicates, only a single nanotech unit would’ve needed to get past our inspections.”

Jonas felt a knot in his gut as he waited to see if Drelock bought his story. The Councilor scowled, which was hardly unusual for her, but when she spoke her tone was calm, almost apologetic.

“I’m sure you did everything you could, Jonas — especially given the time pressure you were working under.”

Jonas felt a wave of guilt for lying to the First Minister, but he knew the deception was necessary. Still, the knowledge didn’t make him feel any better.

Dreylock changed the subject then. “Have you informed your friends on Earth of our situation? Perhaps they might be able to render some assistance.”

Jonas raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression that after your last visit to Earth, the Joint Ruling Council of Langara wanted as little to do with Stargate Command as possible.”

Dreylock gave Jonas a look that said he wasn’t being funny. “The three of us may suffer from a surfeit of pride, but despite what you might think, we aren’t complete idiots. We know when we need help.”

If Dreylock kept up this kind of talk, Jonas thought, he might start believing the Council was capable of doing more than bickering and casting blame.

“I haven’t contacted them yet, First Minister, but I’ll —” Jonas was interrupted when a chirp issued from the console, indicating someone else was calling him. A small window opened on his screen, telling him the communication was coming from a technician in the Ministry of Defense’s gate-room. Since he was currently on-screen with Dreylock, the message came through as simple text.

We’ve received a communication from two members of Stargate Command. Colonel Jack O’Neill and Teal’c request permission to come through the gate.

Jonas typed a quick reply. Permission granted. I’ll be there shortly.

He closed the communication window and then grinned at Dreylock. “I’m afraid I have to cut this short, First Minister. We’re about to receive some visitors from Earth.”

He broke the communication link with Dreylock and then rose from the monitor station, turning to Kianna. “Care to join me in welcoming—?” A thought struck him then — a horrible thought — and he returned to the computer and pressed the controls to call the Ministry of Defense’s gate-room.

“What’s wrong?” Kianna said.

“We have to shut down the gate! If the Array’s sensors detect the wormhole, they might interpret it as an alien attack and —”

The screen flickered to life, displaying the face of the gate technician currently on duty, a man who reminded Jonas of Sergeant Harriman back on Earth, though more in his attitude and bearing than any physical resemblance. Perhaps Stargate technicians were a special breed, no matter what planet you were on.

“Jarek! You have to —”

Before Jonas could finish, the screen went dark and a violent tremor rocked the lab. Flasks and test tubes were knocked over and shattered, books tumbled off shelves and onto the floor. Jonas was thrown out of his seat and Kianna stumbled and would’ve fallen if she hadn’t managed to grab onto the edge of a table. Even before the last of the tremors had subsided, Jonas was scrambling to his feet.

O’Neill … Teal’c … If they were in transit when the blast occurred…

He raced toward the lab door.

CHAPTER TWELVE

“Can’t you do some kind of reboot?” Sam stood once more at the edge of Mimir’s Well, looking down into the swirling energy contained within. Now that she understood Odin’s holo-system — well, understood the basic principle, anyway — she couldn’t help imagining that what she saw were ethereal spirits trapped within the Well.

Odin stood with her, Huginn and Muninn once more hovering over his delicate alien shoulders, lending him strength. Daniel stood at one of the Asgard’s control consoles, watching a holographic replay of the day’s battle between the Vanir and the Jotun, though Sam wasn’t exactly sure what Daniel was hoping to learn.

Sam went on. “You know, shut the entire system down, re-establish the original programming, and then start it up again.”

“It isn’t that simple, Samantha Carter,” Odin said. “Surtr and the others are not programs. I cannot reconfigure them to suit my purposes.”

“But they aren’t exactly alive, either.”

“True. My ravens copied the Norsemen’s mental patterns as they were dying, and I later downloaded them into the Well.”

“So strictly speaking, you didn’t gather the Norsemen’s spirits but used their minds to create artificial intelligences based on their personalities.”

“That is essentially correct. It is quite similar to what we Asgard do when we transfer our consciousnesses from a failing body to a newly cloned one. My people view consciousness differently from your people. Energy is energy, whether it’s contained in a biological form or not.”

“I can’t say I disagree with you,” Sam said. “The ascended Ancients are another example…”

Every time Sam was in the presence of an Asgard, she felt an overwhelming awe. Not only was Odin’s race unimaginably old, Odin himself — or at least his consciousness — had witnessed the Ancient Alliance. He’d known the Ancients, worked with them. The knowledge he possessed was so far beyond anything the humans of Earth had achieved that she doubted she could hope to understand a fraction of it, and Sam’s respect for the Asgard’s history and achievements made her reluctant to question Odin. For him, it must be the equivalent of a toddler asking questions of a Nobel-winning scientist. But during her travels through the Stargate, Sam had learned that just because a race was old and technologically advanced didn’t mean they had all the answers.

Odin gazed down into the Well with his single eye. “If only my people could learn to achieve Ascension.” Normally when an Asgard spoke, his tone was calm and measured, but Sam detected a hint of wistfulness in Odin’s voice. “But the knowledge eludes us. We know there is a physical component to the process as well as a mental one, and we’ve come to believe our genetic code has become so degraded over the long ages that Ascension is impossible for us. Therefore, we must seek other means.”

“Like the Well.”

Odin nodded. “I was inspired in part by the Ancients’ Ascension. If the Asgard could find a technological way to live as pure energy…” He sighed. “But after all this time, I fear my experiment is doomed to failure.”

“Why? What you’ve achieved here on Valhalla is astonishing, Odin. Holographic existence that truly simulates life… It seems to me that Surtr is your only real problem.”

“But that’s the thing, Sam,” Daniel said. “He’s not.”

Daniel deactivated the holographic display he’d been watching and walked over to the Well to join Sam and Odin.

“The windstorms aren’t Surtr’s fault, are they?” Daniel said. “I’ve watched both yesterday’s battle and today’s, and I found nothing to indicate Surtr was responsible for the violent winds that erupted both times.”

“You are correct, Daniel Jackson,” Odin said. “The energy a holographic avatar emits can, when massed together with others, have an undesirable effect on the physical environment, disturbances in the weather chief among them. If a number of avatars were to gather here inside Yggdrasil, their combined energy would create an electrical field that would cause significant damage to my ship’s systems.”

Sam immediately grasped the implications of Odin’s revelation. “So as your technology now stands, a group of holographic Asgards couldn’t be in close proximity to one another.”

“Which would make it awfully hard for them to crew and operate their larger ships,” Daniel added. “They’d essentially be forced to live as planet-bound hermits.”

“Yes,” Odin admitted. “But I am confident the problem can be overcome in time. Though whether I myself — with my limited skills at cloning — will live long enough to find a solution, I do not know. But Surtr remains my most worrisome problem. It’s not his desire to be free, for that I can understand and sympathize with. It’s his ferocity — it borders on madness.”

Sam thought of the image Huginn and Muninn had shown to them, of Surtr standing alone amidst a field of corpses, holding aloft Baldr’s head for Odin to see. “More than borders, I’d say.”

“You’re afraid Surtr’s psychological state is due to his mental pattern degrading, aren’t you?” Daniel said.

“More than afraid,” Odin said. “My instruments indicate that’s exactly what is taking place — and not just with Surtr, though his condition is the most advanced. Though my people survive by moving our consciousnesses from one body to another, we always inhabit a physical form, save for a brief period during transfer. The Vanir and Jotun have gone for centuries without bodies. I have done my best to keep their mental patterns stabilized, but I believe they will eventually degrade to the point of collapse, and for all intents and purposes, the Norsemen will cease to exist.” He paused before continuing. “I’m afraid Valhalla isn’t quite the eternal paradise of legend.”

“But the naquadria power cells should allow you to strengthen your system,” Sam said. “Hopefully to the point where you can stabilize the mental patterns of the Norsemen.”

“And restore Surtr to mental health,” Daniel added. “Then maybe he’ll stop being an angry ghost in the machine.”

“That is my hope,” Odin said. “But whether it will work remains to be seen. Still, I have kept my experiment going for centuries and do not intend to give up now. I will —”

Odin paused and cocked his head to one side, listening to something only he could hear. “My ravens tell me that Surtr is approaching the ship.”

The Asgard walked over to the console Daniel had just left, manipulated the control stones, and a holographic image appeared in the air above the console. Sam and Daniel joined Odin and watched as Surtr — red-skinned, flame-haired, clothes drenched with blood, broadsword wreathed in fire — came stalking up a hill toward Yggdrasil. Thankfully, the Jotun commander had left Baldr’s head on the battlefield. Sam understood the image came from the ship’s security system, but since she and her teammates had been beamed directly into the interior of the craft, she had no idea what it looked like from outside. She got that it rested atop a hill, but otherwise…

“What does Surtr see when he looks at the ship?” Sam asked.

“A holographic image of an immense ash tree,” Odin said. “The circumference of the tree’s trunk roughly corresponds to the dimensions of my ship, and the branches conceal the transmission antennae.”

Surtr’s features were distorted by fury, and madness shone in his flame-flecked eyes.

“What does he want?” Sam asked.

“He wants to challenge me,” Odin said. “He believes that if he defeats the father of the gods, then he will gain his freedom.”

Daniel folded his arms. “I take it he’s done this before.”

“Only once. On one other occasion Surtr was the last man standing after the daily battle, and he came here. My ship is equidistant from the battlefield and the Norsemen’s longhouses, and I never bothered to keep its location a secret. I never thought I’d need to.”

“How much of a threat is Surtr?” Daniel asked. “Even with the extra power he must be drawing from the Well, surely he can’t breech your ship’s defenses.”

“Odin’s not worried about Surtr getting inside,” Sam said. “He’s worried about the damage he might do to the holographic transmitter outside.”

The Asgard nodded. “Should Surtr get a mind to climb the world tree and start hacking away at the branches, he’ll damage the crystalline lattice that allows me not only to transmit the thought patterns of the Norsemen into their effectors, but also to create the illusion of the sylvan landscape that surrounds us.”

Surtr reached the base of Yggdrasil’s trunk, and planted a foot on one of its roots.

“Odin!” he bellowed. “I know you can hear me, old god! I have come to take your place as lord of this world! Show yourself and face me in battle — if you dare!”

“Please tell us you have a way to shut him down,” Sam said.

“I can send a signal to his effector and put it into sleep mode. It is what I do when I need to perform maintenance on the devices.”

“I suggest you do it quickly,” Daniel said, “before Surtr begins pruning your tree.”

Odin touched the Asgard stones in a specific pattern, but when he was finished, the holo-scene remained the same: Surtr standing outside the craft, one foot on a tree root, flaming sword gripped tight in his hand, glaring hatred at the world tree, and at the god inside who refused to appear on demand.

“I don’t understand,” Odin said. “Surtr’s holographic aspect should have faded, and his effector should have lowered itself gently to the ground. Perhaps the command didn’t go through for some reason. I shall try again.” Odin’s fingers flew over the console’s stones this time, but the result was the same. Nothing happened.

“Maybe there’s an equipment malfunction somewhere,” Sam said.

Daniel scratched his head. “Or maybe Surtr has grown strong enough to resist Odin’s commands.”

Sam wondered if such a thing was possible. Surtr could control his appearance and draw more power from the Well than the other Norsemen, so maybe he could assert enough control over his effector to countermand the order for it to enter sleep mode. Whatever the reason, the angry fire giant remained on Odin’s doorstep, waiting for the Allfather of the Norse gods to put in an appearance.

“I call to you one last time, Graybeard!” Surtr shouted. “Come out now or I will cut down your tree, chop it to pieces, and sift through the kindling until I find you!”

“You can’t go out to face him!” Sam said. “You’re not…”

“Physically capable of defeating him?” Odin finished for her. “True. Though I do have other means at my disposal.”

Odin gave no command, but the two effectors that were Huginn and Munnin vanished in small flashes of blue-white energy. Odin immediately slumped, and Sam and Daniel caught him under his arms to support him. Outside, the ravens reappeared before Surtr in the guise of the valkyrie — in full Norse goddess regalia — sitting atop her horse.

Surtr sneered. “Is the Allfather so afraid of me that he sends one of his servants in his place?”

Odin lifted trembling hands to the console and manipulated the control stones.

“Odin is busy with his own affairs, Surtr,” the valkyrie said. “Be grateful that you have not drawn his attention, for if you had, you would also risk drawing his ire. Return to your longhouse, leader of the Jotun, and celebrate this day’s victory on the field of battle. Though since you alone survived, I wager it will be a solitary celebration indeed.”

Surtr bared his teeth in an expression that bore only the faintest resemblance to a smile.

“I shall celebrate, valkyrie — when I hold Odin’s severed head in my hand.”

Fury twisted the valkyrie’s features. She wore a broadsword sheathed across her back, and she reached up and drew her weapon in a single fluid motion. An instant later, the point of her blade dimpled the soft crimson flesh at the base of Surtr’s neck.

“You should guard your tongue more carefully, Jotun,” the valkyrie said through clenched teeth.

Surtr glared at her, but he made no move to step back or knock her blade aside.

Inside Yggdrasil, Sam became aware of a pulsing light out of the corner of her eye. She turned to see the energy contained within the Well of Mimir flaring brightly in measured pulses, almost like the beating of an ethereal heart. A sound accompanied the light-pulses, a low thrumming noise as if somewhere within the ship systems had kicked into overdrive.

“What’s happening?” Sam asked.

Odin continued to manipulate the console controls as he spoke. “Surtr is drawing even more energy from the Well. With all the other Norsemen dead, there’s a great deal of unused power for him to tap into.”

Sam returned her attention to the holo-display. She watched as Surtr reached up and slowly wrapped his fingers around the blade of the valkyrie’s sword. His hand burst into flame, and the fire rushed up the blade, moving swiftly, almost as if it were a thing alive. Flames rushed over the valkyrie’s hand, up her arm, and spread across her body. Within an instant, she was completely aflame, and the fire spread from her body to that of her mount.

Sam averted her eyes and steeled herself for the valkyrie’s scream of agony. But the warrior maiden made no sound as she burned, nor did she move. Both she and her steed merely stood still as Surtr’s flames devoured their flesh. Sam had seen many strange things during her time with SG-1, but this ranked pretty high on her personal weirdness scale.

Surtr’s flame wasn’t literal fire, but rather a manifestation of the power he was drawing from the Well. The energy in the pit pulsed rapidly now, and the ship groaned, the floor shuddering beneath their feet as Yggdrasil’s systems struggled to keep up with Surtr’s demands for power. The flames engulfing the valkyrie and her horse burned swiftly and without mercy, and it took only a few moments for their guises to collapse. Once their illusions were stripped away, all the remained were the two effectors, one hovering over the other in front of Surtr. The Jotun looked at them for a second, frowning as he tried to understand what he was seeing. Then he shrugged, jabbed his sword into the ground, stepped forward, and grabbed hold of an effector with each hand. He squeezed, his fists flaring with energy, and the two devices shattered in his grip. He opened his hands and let the pieces of Huginn and Munnin fall to the ground.

“Did you see how easily your servants fell before my might, Odin?” he shouted. “They could not withstand the fury of my flames!” He paused, and then grinned savagely. “I wonder… do you think the world tree itself can stand against my power? Shall we see?”

Surtr reached down to place his hands on one of Yggdrasil’s exposed roots. Once again, energy flared bright and flame raced outward from Surtr’s hands and began to spread rapidly across the wood.

“That’s not good,” Sam said, turning to Odin and prepared to ask a question, but her words died in her mouth when she saw how weak the Asgard looked. His normally grayish-brown skin edged toward white, and a filmy cast covered his eye. Evidently Odin’s body relied on his two ravens for more than ease of mobility.

“I know what you are going to say.” Odin’s voice was breathy, and each word seemed to cost him a significant effort. “Could I… deactivate the entire holographic system so that Surtr, the illusion of the world tree, the valley, the longhouses all vanish? The answer is yes. But the system is a… delicate balance of interlocking energy matrices, and a full, immediate shutdown would assuredly damage that balance… perhaps beyond my capability to repair.”

Sam looked at the image on the holo-display. Surtr’s flames were spreading rapidly, and within the ship the thrumming of the power systems had increased in volume and intensity to the point where they had to almost shout to be heard.

“Whatever you’re going to do, you’d better do it fast!” she said. “If your power fails, it will be the same as shutting down the holographic system anyway. And if the failure is a catastrophic one…”

“I may lose the ship,” Odin finished for her. “Very well.”

The Asgard manipulated the console controls, but nothing happened. The Well continued to strobe, and the power systems howled as they struggled to keep up with the demands being placed on them.

“What is it?” Sam asked.

“The holographic system is not accepting my shutdown command,” Odin said. “It’s command functions are… offline. The energy drain is too much…”

Sam thought frantically. The only way Odin could regain control of the holographic system was if the energy demanded was lessened, but that was impossible. At least, it was impossible to do from inside the ship. But outside…

“Do you still have control of your transport system?”

“I believe so. . .”

“That’ll have to be good enough,” she said. “Get me out there with Surtr — now.”

“Sam, you can’t do that!” Daniel protested.

“Well, there won’t be enough power to send both of us,” Sam said, “and I have the only zat.” She drew the weapon and set it to firing position. “Do it, Odin.”

“Very well.”

The Asgard worked the console and the bright light filled Sam’s vision. When it disappeared, she found herself standing at the base of a gigantic tree, one that dwarfed the California redwoods back on Earth. Flames wreathed the trunk halfway up the tree and were spreading rapidly. Surtr stood a half dozen yards away, leaning over the tree root and pouring vast amounts of energy into it. The Jotun’s flames might not be literal fire, but they produced a hellish amount of heat just the same, and Sam felt as if she’d been transported into the middle of a blast furnace. She squinted her eyes shut and kept her mouth closed to avoid breathing the superheated air. She aimed the zat at Surtr and fired.

The first blast didn’t even get the Jotun’s attention. She felt her skin begin to blister from the intense heat, and she fought to ignore the pain and fired again. The second blast caused Surtr’s outward appearance to destabilize, giving Sam a brief glimpse of the effector within Surtr’s guise. The giant whirled around to glare at her, but before he could do anything more, Sam fired again.

Electrical energy coruscated across Surtr’s body, and his outer shell flickered several times before vanishing altogether, leaving only his effector behind. It hovered a half second longer before falling to the ground. As if a switch had been flipped, the flames devouring Yggdrasil disappeared and the tree was magically hale and hearty once more.

It’s really quite an impressive illusion, Sam thought. Beautiful too. She became suddenly dizzy and wondered why her blistered skin felt cold instead of hot. So very, very cold…

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“Nothing personal, Jonas, but that had to be the worst welcome-to-our-planet I’ve ever received.”

Jonas smiled as he raised his tarenta to his lips and took a quick sip.

“I’m just glad we were able to haul you and Teal’c out of there more or less intact.”

Teal’c smiled. “Indeed.”

The four of them — Jonas, Kianna, O’Neill, and Teal’c — sat at a table in a small café in Langara’s capitol city. The table was near the back, and since it was late afternoon, there were only a handful of other customers in the place — none sitting close by — and they had enough privacy to talk openly.

“I guess,” O’Neill said, “and I can understand why you wouldn’t want to stay in the Ministry of Defense building after what happened, but did you have to bring us to Starbucks?” He looked down at the mug cupped in his hands. “What is this stuff, anyway? It doesn’t look like coffee.” He sniffed. “And it sure doesn’t smell like it. Too minty.”

“It’s something like tea,” Jonas said.

“Not enough like.”

Teal’c took a sip. “I find it quite refreshing.”

O’Neill pushed his mug aside. “I’ll take your word for it. So, Jonas, how do you figure we managed to get away from your Array? I have a hard time believing you built it to be a lousy shot.”

“I’m not certain why the Array hesitated,” Jonas said, “though my best guess is because its artificial intelligence needed a moment to decide whether the Stargate’s unique energy signature marked it as a potential threat. That hesitation saved your lives.”

Teal’c finished his tarenta and placed his empty mug gently on the table. “From what you have told us, Jonas Quinn, this Array is an extremely powerful device, and yet the damage to your gate-room was minimal.”

“The Ministry’s gate-room is one of the most well-protected structures on the planet,” Jonas said. “It’s surrounded by thick barriers of naquadah-enhanced plasteel. Even the Array’s energy beam barely managed to penetrate it.”

“You’re not worried the Array will try again?” O’Neill said.

“It’s possible,” he admitted. “But the technicians were able to power down the gate after the Array’s first strike, and with the gate no longer emitting an energy signal, I believe the Array decided the threat was over and there was no need for a second strike.” Jonas shook his head. “Who would’ve thought that programming the Array for maximum energy efficiency would turn out to be our only protection from the device? We’re lucky the Replicator technology hasn’t made it truly intelligent. If it was any smarter, it would’ve struck a second time in order to make sure that any potential threat had been eliminated.”

“Replicators grow and evolve swiftly,” Teal’c said. “It is possible the Array will become more intelligent in time.”

“And if that happens, you’re out of luck,” O’Neill said.

The four of them fell into a contemplative silence. Jonas was reluctant to break it, especially because he had to point out yet another depressing fact.

“We were fortunate that the gate-room suffered only superficial damage,” he said. “Nothing that can’t be repaired in time, and nothing that will impair the gate’s functionality. But that doesn’t mean we can use it. The Array will undoubtedly strike swiftly the next time the Stargate’s activated — and now that the protective barrier around the gate-room is weakened, a second strike could well destroy the Stargate entirely. So for the time being, I’m afraid you’re both stranded on Langara.”

“Then I guess we’ll just have to help you solve your problem so we can get back to Valhalla and help out Odin,” O’Neill said. “Assuming you have any extra naquadria power cells lying around.”

Kianna hadn’t said much since they’d met O’Neill and Teal’c outside the Langaran gate-room. She’d met them only briefly before, when she’d been taken to Stargate Command to have her dying symbiote removed. Jonas knew that had been a confusing, traumatic time for Kianna, and seeing O’Neill and Teal’c had to be uncomfortable. But she spoke now.

“Because we were rushed by the Joint Ruling Council to test the Array, we installed all the functional power cells we had in the satellites,” Kianna said. “But we have a few prototypes that weren’t up to spec for installation in the Array. They might be of use to you.”

“If we can ever use your Stargate again,” O’Neill said.

“There is that,” Kianna said. “Once Rahil is healed, he’ll be able to help us come up with a method for stopping the Array.” She paused, and then more quietly added, “I hope.”

“As a general rule, I like the Tok’ra,” O’Neill said. “But they can be a real pain in the ass when they decide to get all James Bondish.” He frowned. “Bondy? Bond-like?” He shrugged. “Whatever.”

“You said you had recovered the crashed Tok’ra’s ship,” Teal’c said.

Jonas nodded. “It’s in the Ministry Building right now. It’s in surprisingly good condition, considering what it’s been through.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c said, placing a subtle emphasis on the word.

O’Neill turned to the Jaffa warrior. “I recognize that tone, Tee. You’re thinking we might need that ship before this is all over.”

“It never hurts to be prepared, O’Neill.”

“Ain’t that the truth.” O’Neill picked up the mug he’d previously pushed aside, started to take a sip, shuddered, and then put the mug back down. “All right, so in the plus column we have one wounded Tok’ra and his damaged spaceship. What else? Any ground-based defenses we might be able to deploy against the Array?”

“Yes,” Jonas said, “as well as some military satellites left over from my planet’s cold war. But they aren’t powerful enough to do any real damage to the Array, and I’m afraid that if we try to use them, the Array will start targeting them. So far the Array has been balancing self-preservation with protection of Langara, which is the primary reason its strikes so far have been surgical in nature. But what if Teal’c is right and the Array becomes smarter? If we attack it again, it might decide that the Langaran people are a threat to it, and if that happened…”

“Many would die,” Teal’c said.

“And if the Array comes to understand the power contained in our planet’s naquadria veins, it might decide to target them,” Kianna said.

“Which would result in one very big boom,” O’Neill said. “Then no more Langarans. Got it.”

“But if the Array took such an action, it would have no planet around which to orbit,” Teal’c said.

“If the Array started detonating naquadria veins, the devastation would be staggering,” Jonas said. “But while all life on Langara would be extinguished, the planet itself would still exist. The Array would end up orbiting a lifeless world, but the device itself would be unharmed.”

“I see,” Teal’c said. “It appears we are on our own against the Array.”

“What else is new, Tee? We’re usually on our own, aren’t we?”

The Jaffa inclined his head slightly, acknowledging the point.

“All right then,” O’Neill said, “what can the four of us do against a rogue satellite defense network capable of showering the planet with death rays?”

“Five, actually.”

Everyone at the table looked up to see Rahil approaching. The right sleeve of the Tok’ra’s jacket was pinned up, and his skin was pale, but otherwise he moved steadily and his voice was strong. He might not be fully recovered, Jonas thought, amazed at the Tok’ra’s recuperative powers, but he was damn close to it. He had a weary air about him that Jonas knew had nothing to do with the loss of his arm and everything to do with the death of his wife. Jonas was even more impressed with the Tok’ra’s ability to function after suffering such a loss than he was by the man’s healing abilities. Jonas didn’t know if he’d be able to continue so soon after losing someone close to him.

Without thinking about it, he glanced at Kianna. She glanced back and gave him a questioning look, but he just smiled.

Rahil took a chair from an empty table and joined the others. He nodded at the two members of SG-1.

“Colonel O’Neill, Teal’c. We’ve never met, but I know you by reputation.”

“Of course you do,” O’Neill said.

Rahil just smiled. “I assume you’ve been discussing what to do about the Array.”

“Not that we’ve gotten very far,” Jonas said. “I don’t suppose you’ve managed to come up with any brilliant ideas during your brief convalescence?”

“As a matter of fact, I believe I have.”

“I wish Carter was here,” O’Neill said. “Nothing personal, Jonas, but she knows more about starship engines than all of us put together.”

“No offense taken, Colonel. We could use her help, no doubt about it. I suppose we’ll just have to muddle through as best we can without her.”

“I hate muddling.”

The five of them stood inside the storage facility in the Ministry Building where the damaged Tok’ra craft had been brought. Jonas had told the Councilors and the Ministry technicians that the ship belonged to Stargate Command, that SG-1 had brought it with them to help deal with the Array, but that it had been shot down by the rogue defense system. So far, everyone seemed to believe his story and he hoped it stayed that way. The craft was a tel’tac, a scout ship that normally came equipped with hyperdrive and cloaking technology. The craft’s strength lay in its maneuverability, and since tel’tac’s were used primarily for transportation purposes they weren’t equipped with armaments. But this was a Tok’ra spy ship, and so a few modifications had been made. According to Rahil, a low-level energy weapon had been added to the tel’tac, mostly for defensive purposes.

It might not be much, Jonas thought, but at this point they could use every advantage they could get… assuming the weapon still worked.

Teal’c emerged from the tel’tac, Kianna and Rahil following.

“There is, O’Neill, both good and bad news,” Teal’c said. “I believe it is customary to ask which you would prefer to hear first.”

“Good news, Tee, definitely,” O’Neill said. “It’s been that kind of day.”

“As you wish. As with the Array’s attacks on the Ministry Building, all of its strikes on the tel’tac were surgical in nature. It disabled key components of both the vessel’s sublight and hyperdrive engines, but it did not destroy them. The same is true of the energy weapon the Tok’ra added to the craft. With the correct equipment all can be repaired with a few hours of work, and while the ship suffered structural damage during its landing, I believe it can be made to fly again — though perhaps not as swiftly or gracefully as before.”

“Wow, Tee,” O’Neill said. “The bad news must really suck.”

“Indeed. As I said, the repairs to the tel’tac could be made easily — with the correct equipment.”

“Let me guess,” O’Neill said. “Those parts aren’t available in your local Langaran hardware store.”

“From what Kianna and Rahil have told me, they are not.”

“We should be able to reconfigure some of our native technology to work,” Kianna said. “It just may not work very well. Or for very long.”

“So whatever we do, we’re only going to have one shot at it,” Jonas said.

“If we’re lucky,” Kianna said.

O’Neill sighed. “This is where Carter would’ve come in handy. All right, so what about the energy weapon, Rahil? Can that still be repaired?”

“I believe so,” the Tok’ra said. “Though I can’t promise we’ll be able to get more than a single shot off.”

“If your plan works, one shot is all we’ll need,” Jonas said.

Rahil smiled grimly. “Then we’ll just have to make sure it counts, won’t we? If you gentlemen will excuse me, I’ve got work to do.” And with that the Tok’ra returned to the tel’tac.

“I’ll go lend a hand,” Kianna said. “Teal’c?”

The Jaffa inclined his head and gestured for Kianna to precede him into the spacecraft. When they were out of earshot, O’Neill turned to Jonas.

“You know, considering that the guy monkeyed around with your satellite defense system and put your planet on the brink of destruction you don’t seem too upset with him.”

“Don’t get me wrong; I’m absolutely furious, but right now we need to concentrate on shutting down the Array.” Jonas paused. “Besides, Rahil thought he was helping us… and the pilot who died was his wife. There’s an Earth phrase that applies here, Colonel: I don’t feel like kicking a man when he’s down.”

“He makes an easier target that way, you know.” When Jonas just looked at him, O’Neill added, “I’m just saying… All right, so you’re taking the high road here, Jonas, and good for you. I’m not sure I’d be as understanding if I were in your shoes. So what about Rahil’s plan? Will it work?”

“It’s hard to say. Rahil was instrumental in developing the naquadria cells, and he understands the subatomic reaction that makes them work better than anyone, including Kianna and myself. A lot depends on how much the Replicator technology has altered the basic structure of the naquadria cells. If the cells have been changed too much…” Jonas let the thought trail off.

“But it’s our best shot?”

Jonas couldn’t help smiling. It had been a while since he’d served under the Colonel’s command, but right now it seemed like only yesterday. Despite the current situation, Jonas couldn’t help feeling a certain nostalgia. Being part of SG-1 had been the most amazing experience of his life, and though they’d often been in danger, along with the stress and tension was a level of excitement beyond anything he’d ever known. He’d felt as if he were living at the highest level possible — his mind, body, and spirit challenged in ways he wouldn’t have been able to imagine before joining the team. He didn’t regret his decision to return to Langara and use the knowledge and experience he’d gained in service of his people, but he had to admit he missed being part of SG-1.

“I believe so,” Jonas said. “The subatomic reaction within the naquadria cells is inherently unstable, which is what allows them to generate such vast amounts of power so quickly. Unfortunately, this means they have a tendency to burn out if too great a demand is placed on them in a short period of time. This is the main reason that we programmed the Array to be so energy efficient — to try to preserve the cells as long as possible. What Rahil is proposing is that we exploit the instability of the cells by attempting to speed up their subatomic reaction to the point where all the naquadria is used up in a single massive burst of released energy. Rahil’s going to use one of the prototype naquadria cells to modify the tel’tac’s energy weapon to produce a beam that will hopefully initiate an overload of the Array’s power cells.”

“And we’re supposed to do this not just to one satellite but to the entire Array all at once,” O’Neill said. “And somehow the Array — which is infested with Replicator tech, don’t forget — is just going to sit there and let us do this.”

Jonas didn’t take O’Neill’s pointed comments personally. He knew they were the Colonel’s way of prodding the people he worked with into thinking harder.

“The tel’tac has cloaking technology,” Jonas pointed out. “That should allow us to get close enough to one of the satellites to fire the beam. If the beam works, we’ll only need to strike one satellite. They’re all connected — not just their individual computers, but the power cells, too. Though each satellite possesses its own individual energy weapon, all the naquadria cells in the Array link up to create an overall power network. Even if only a single satellite fires its weapon, the demand for power is spread across the entire network. It’s another way of keeping the power drain on any one cell to a minimum and preventing it from burning out too soon.”

“So we zap one satellite and they all go on the fritz,” O’Neill said. “Sounds easy enough. But even assuming the tel’tac’s cloak works perfectly — and given that the ship crash-landed, that’s a big assumption — there’s a possibility the Replicator tech has upgraded the Array so that its sensors will detect a cloaked ship, right?”

“Yes,” Jonas admitted. “Rahil’s wife had to drop the tel’tac’s cloak to fire her energy weapon at the Array. It attacked her before she had a chance to fire, but I reviewed the ship’s automatic flight log and it indicated the Array did a sensor sweep of the tel’tac before firing. If it detected the presence of a cloaking device on the ship, its scans might have provided enough information on the technology to allow it to upgrade its sensors. The Array may well be able to see through a ship’s cloak now. We simply have no way of knowing.”

“Last time the Array took control of the tel’tac’s navigation systems and caused the ship to crash,” O’Neill said. “What’s to prevent the same thing from happening again?”

“If our cloak holds, we should be all right,” Jonas said. “Still, I’ve made some modifications to the firewalls in the tel’tac’s computer system that should prevent the Array from gaining control again. But there’s no way to know for certain if it’ll work.”

“Not without flying the tel’tac right up to the Array and seeing if it starts taking pot shots at it,” O’Neill said. Then he frowned. “A minute ago, you said the ship’s cloak would allow us to get close enough to one of the satellites. The plan is for Teal’c to pilot the tel’tac. He’s got more experience flying those birds than anyone on the planet, especially in combat situations. Well, more experience than anyone except me.”

“Teal’c may be the best choice when it comes to flying the ship, and he’s more than capable of firing an energy beam at one of the satellites. But if the Array detects the tel’tac before Teal’c can fire, he’ll have his hands full performing evasive maneuvers, and as Rahil said, even with his modifications to the tel’tac’s energy weapon, we may only get one shot. We’ll need to do everything we can to make sure it’s a good one.”

“Then I should go,” O’Neill said. “I have more combat experience —”

“True, but each of us going has a specific job to perform. Teal’c is going to fly the craft, Rahil will operate the energy weapon, and I’ll monitor the Array. But in case the plan doesn’t work, and we don’t make it back, it’ll be up to you and Kianna to come up with a new plan to shut down the Array. I need you to remain behind, Jack. There’s no one else in the galaxy I trust more with the fate of my world.”

O’Neill looked at Jonas for a moment. “Well, I guess it is your planet… Okay, we’ll do it your way. But in case the tel’tac’s cloak doesn’t fool the Array, you’re going to need some kind of distraction to divert its attention while you take your shot.”

“Have anything in mind?”

“I was thinking about the test you performed on the Array. Got any more of those drone ships?”

Sam’s first thought when she opened her eyes was I smell something burning. Her second thought was, I think it’s me.

She tried to sit up, but Daniel was standing at her side, and he put a gentle hand on her shoulder to keep her from rising.

“Take it easy, Sam. You had a close call.”

She frowned as she tried to recall what Daniel was talking about. She remembered a cruel face with fire-flecked eyes… remembered heat more intense than any she’d every experienced before. Air so hot it seared the lungs to take a breath… so hot it could cook you from the inside out. Her mouth and throat felt as if they were caked with sand.

“I could use a drink of water,” she said. Her throat felt a little tender, but her voice came out strong enough.

Daniel smiled. “Odin said that’s the first thing you’d ask for.” He held a silver flask and he now brought it to her lips.

Sam wanted to protest. She wasn’t a child; she was perfectly capable of pouring water into her own mouth. But she’d been injured enough times in the line of duty to know better than to let her pride make her do something foolish. So she laid back and let Daniel hold the flask while she drank. The water was cool, clear, crisp, and the most delicious thing that Sam had ever tasted in her life. She would’ve drunk the flask dry if Daniel had let her, but he pulled it away from her lips before she’d emptied it halfway.

“Not too fast,” Daniel said. “Let’s give what you drank time to settle.”

Sam’s memory was still fuzzy, but she remembered most of it — she thought.

“I’m in Odin’s ship, right?”

Daniel nodded. “This is a bedchamber not far from where the Well is located. After your confrontation with Surtr, Odin beamed you back inside. You were burned pretty badly, and he put you into a cellular regeneration pod. From what I gather, his cloning technology doesn’t work as well as it used to, so he uses the regeneration pod to make each of his bodies last as long as possible before he’s forced to transfer his consciousness into a new one. You were out for about an hour, but the pod did its job.” He smiled. “And for a bonus, you have a lot of very pink, very soft new skin. Uh, not that I touched it or anything. I mean, you can tell just be looking…”

If Sam hadn’t felt so weary, she’d have laughed at Daniel’s sudden awkwardness.

“You were groggy when you came out of the pod,” he said, “and you had to lean on me for support as we walked here. I take it you don’t remember that?”

Sam shook her head. She was covered by a thin sheet and dressed in a one-piece undergarment that Odin must’ve manufactured for her. Her uniform lay in a corner of the room, folded neatly, her boots on the floor next to it, along with her P90 and zat. Her clothes had scorch marks all over them, so many she was surprised that they hadn’t burst into flame during her encounter with Surtr. Too bad Odin didn’t have a clothing-regeneration pod.

“Did you… undress me?”

Daniel’s cheeks actually reddened. “No, Odin did. I figured that since his species is essentially genderless, you wouldn’t mind.”

In truth, she found the notion of the small gray-skinned alien disrobing her to be a bit on the creepy side, but she decided not to share this with Daniel. “Speaking of Odin, where is he?”

“Without his ravens, he can barely move, so he’s using the pod now. He says it won’t give him full mobility, but it’ll make him stronger.”

“Can’t he rebuild them? Or just reprogram another pair of effectors to take over their job?”

“I suppose he’ll make replacements eventually. But from what he told me, Huginn and Munnin contained more specialized technology than the other effectors — they had short-range matter transportation capabilities, not to mention whatever it was they did to lend him strength. He may have to get along without them for a while.”

“And Surtr?” she asked.

“You managed to temporarily overload his effector with zat energy,” Daniel said. “When that happened, the effector shut down and Odin brought it into the ship. He deactivated it — well, we did. He gave me the instructions and I acted as his hands. As he explained it to me, each effector is geared specifically to one mental pattern within the Well, so without access to that particular effector, Surtr’s consciousness will be unable to manifest in the real world as a hologram — which means he’s not going to be causing any more trouble.”

“Good. Now can I have the rest of that water?”

This time Daniel handed her the flask and she drank on her own, forcing herself to go slowly and not gulp the water.

“It’s funny,” Daniel said.

When Sam finished drinking, she brushed her fingers across her lips to wipe away a few stray water drops, and she was surprised to find that Daniel had been right; the skin there was soft as a baby’s. “What is?”

“In Norse myth, Surtr and the rest of the forces of evil are supposed to triumph on the day of Ragnarok. They defeat the gods and destroy creation. But in reality, Odin stopped Surtr from destroying his ship. With your help, of course.”

“Sounds like a pretty bleak religion,” she said. “The Norse must’ve been a lot of laughs.”

“It’s not that simple,” Daniel said. “They viewed Ragnarok as both an ending and a beginning. A new cycle of Creation would begin — new gods, new humans, a whole new existence. At its core, it’s really a metaphor for winter finally ending as spring returns. Which only makes sense, when you think about the sort of environment in which the Norse lived…” He trailed off with an embarrassed smile. “I started lecturing, didn’t I? Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. Occupational hazard.” She glanced at her scorched uniform once more. “I don’t suppose Odin whipped me up replacement clothes before he climbed into the pod?”

“Only what you have on now. He said it should be, and I quote, ‘sufficient’ for you.”

“A member of a race that walks around naked all the time probably doesn’t have the firmest grasp on what ‘sufficient’ means with it comes to clothes.” The undergarment Odin had made for her clung to her like a second skin — literally. It felt as if she wasn’t wearing anything at all, and while Daniel was a good friend, she didn’t think she’d feel comfortable walking around the ship as she was. It looked like she was going to have to put on at least some of her burnt clothes. Maybe just the pants, boots, and T-shirt for now. The pants weren’t in great shape, but they were better than her uniform jacket. That looked like it might crumble into ashes the instant she touched it.

“If you wouldn’t mind stepping out into the hall, I’ll get dressed and then we can get to work,” Sam said.

“On what? Like I said, Surtr’s been taken care of and Odin’s resting while he heals. What do we… ? Oh, we need to get Odin’s holographic projection system ready for the installation of Jonas’s naquadria power cells.”

Sam nodded. “I don’t have the specs for the cells with me, but I remember them well enough. We can at least make a good start, and Odin can help us finish when he’s stronger.” She frowned as a thought occurred. “How long did you say I was out?”

“About an hour. Why?”

“Shouldn’t we have heard from Colonel O’Neill and Teal’c by now? They left for Langara a while before Surtr’s attack.”

“Maybe the naquadria cells aren’t quite ready for transport,” Daniel said.

Sam shook her head. “From the data Jonas sent me, they’re so close to testing that the cells are already constructed.”

“In that case, I bet the holdup is political. You know how the Joint Ruling Council is — they’re probably arguing among themselves about whether it’s a good idea to let us have one of their naquadria cells.”

“Maybe,” Sam agreed. “Or after the way things went the last time they were on Earth, they might still be angry with us — and at the Colonel, specifically — and they’re refusing to give us any cells. In which case Jonas and the Colonel are probably arguing with the Councilors until they’re blue in the face.”

“Considering how Jack feels about the Ruling Council, his face is more likely redder than Surtr’s.”

Sam grinned. “Probably. All right, get out of here, let me get dressed, and we’ll get to work.”

Daniel smiled. “As you wish, madam.”

When he’d left, Sam got up. The surface of the bed had molded to her form, and now that she was off it, it slowly returned to a neutral flat state.

I could use one of those back at SGC, she thought. Wonder if Odin would give it to me on an extended loan?

She felt a little wobbly, so she moved with caution as she crossed the room and began sorting through her burned clothing to see what was still wearable. She wondered how the Colonel and Teal’c were faring with the Langaran Councilors — she didn’t envy them at all. She’d rather face homicidal holographic fire giants any day.

As she’d figured, her boots, pants, and black undershirt were passable enough, if only just. She put them on and then left the room, her stomach growling as she walked down Yggdrasil’s corridor.

Just then the lights flared bright, dimmed, and returned to normal. Sam paused, waiting to see if the light were going to flicker again. When, after a few moments, they were still fine, she started walking again. And that’s when they went out altogether. Low-level emergency lighting kicked in, and the once bright corridor filled with shadow.

“This can’t be good,” she murmured and set off at a jog for the ship’s main control room.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jonas stood with Kianna in an alley outside the Ministry’s main storage facility, watching as Teal’c slowly flew the repaired tel’tac through the large open entranceway toward a waiting transport vehicle. Rahil was inside the craft with the Jaffa, and O’Neill had gone to the gate-room in preparation for his part in the upcoming mission. Night had fallen while they’d been working, and the sky above was clear and filled with stars. Jonas knew he couldn’t see any of the Array satellites with his naked eye, but he couldn’t help imagining that some of those pinpricks of light looking down at the planet might even now be scanning the tel’tac’s energy signature and preparing to fire their weapons. He told himself that the Tok’ra craft was operating on simple thrusters and its energy output was minimal, less than a Langaran aircraft even, so this short flight shouldn’t catch the Array’s attention. But there was no way to truly know, not until a beam of destructive energy came lancing down from above, and by then it would be too late.

Jonas turned to Kianna. He wanted to tell her that he wasn’t comfortable with her standing here with him, risking being caught in the blast should the Array fire on the tel’tac. He wished she was inside with O’Neill in the gate-room, where it was safer, but he knew his feelings, while perhaps understandable given the circumstances, did Kianna a disservice. She was a highly skilled professional and deserved to be treated as such. She was a vital part of the mission team, and she had every right to expose herself to the same risks the rest of them did. But the thought of losing Kianna just as they were beginning to build a relationship scared Jonas in its own way as much as the thought of the Array mounting an all-out attack on the planet. It was foolish, he knew, but he couldn’t help it.

And thus Kianna’s next words came as a shock to him.

“I want to come with you, Jonas.” She hurried on before he could protest. “Colonel O’Neill doesn’t need my help to remotely fly the drone ship, and though Rahil has recovered from his injury, he’s not as strong as he’s letting on. I… I know how swiftly a symbiote can heal its host body, but I also know how weak that body can be once the process is completed. The way Rahil has been pushing himself, there’s a good chance he might collapse mid-mission. And even if he doesn’t, his grief over his wife’s death is clouding his judgment. While we were installing the prototype naquadria cell in the tel’tac, he made several mistakes because he was rushing — any one of those mistakes could’ve caused the ship’s weapon to fail, perhaps disastrously so. I caught the mistakes and fixed them, but if you can’t rely on Rahil, you’ll need someone on board to assist you. Teal’c will be too busy flying the tel’tac to do anything else. You need me.”

“Of course I need you,” he said. “Just how much I’m only beginning to learn. And the truth is that as much as I want to make sure you’re safe here on the planet during the mission, part of me wants you alongside me in the tel’tac, not only because we could use you but because I’d be able to draw strength just from being in your presence. But that would be selfish of me.”

Kianna frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“It’s like I told Colonel O’Neill. I need him to remain behind not only to fly the drone ship, but in case the plan doesn’t succeed and the Array remains a threat. I need to know that Langara will be in good hands if I… if none of us makes it back. If you, Rahil, and I all go into space, there will be no one left planet side who understands how the naquadria cells work. That knowledge will be vital if we fail so that another attempt can be made to shut down the Array. Despite his weakened condition, I need Rahil to come. Not that I could convince him to stay behind after what happened to his wife. He blames himself for her death. He feels that if he hadn’t added the Replicator technology to the Array’s system, she’d still be alive — and he’s right. I can’t imagine how much that must hurt. But it’s precisely because of his knowledge of both the adapted Replicator tech and the naquadria cells that I need him to go.”

Kianna scowled. “In that case, you should remain behind with Colonel O’Neill. Langara can’t afford to lose you, Jonas. You understand both the Array and the naquadria cells’ subatomic reaction better than I do! The simple truth is that I’m expendable, while you’re not.”

“You’re not expendable to me,” Jonas said softly. “But personal feelings aside, the Array was my project. I conceived of it, argued with the Joint Ruling Council to get approval and funding, assured them that it would protect the Langaran people and prove no threat to them. I didn’t know it at the time — couldn’t have known it — but I lied to them, and I put our world in terrible danger. I have to go, Kianna. It’s my responsibility — my duty.”

Kianna didn’t respond right away. She looked at Jonas, her expression unreadable. When she finally spoke, her voice was tight was barely restrained emotion. “I don’t want to lose you, Jonas.”

He took her in his arms then and held her tight. They were still embracing when Teal’c cleared this throat.

They broke apart and Jonas saw Teal’c and Rahil standing close by. “We shall soon be ready to depart, Jonas Quinn,” Teal’c said.

The tel’tac was resting on the bed of the transport vehicle, and a small crew of Ministry techs were covering the vessel with a large tarp. The plan was to transport the tel’tac to a secluded spot outside the city where it could lift off without being detected by the Array. The location was heavily wooded, but with a number of clearings, any one which would provide enough area for the tel’tac to launch.

Jonas nodded to the Jaffa warrior, and Teal’c bowed his head then gracefully withdrew to give Jonas and Kianna their privacy. Rahil lingered for a moment longer, however.

“I just want to tell you, Kianna, that I’m sorry for deceiving you about my true identity. I believed it was necessary at the time…” He trailed off, then let out a bitter bark of a laugh. “Of course I did! Isn’t that what we Tok’ra always believe? But the revelation of who I really was couldn’t have been easy for you, not when you’re still working to put the experience of you own possession by a symbiote behind you. I regret any… discomfort I may have caused you.” He paused and then added more softly, “I regret so many things.” Then he forced a smiled. “I just wanted you to know that before I left.”

Kianna looked at Rahil for a moment, and then she surprised Jonas by stepping forward and embracing the Tok’ra. She hugged the man tight and gave him a kiss on the cheek before stepping back. “Good luck.”

Rahil gazed at her fondly. “To all of us, my friend.” The Tok’ra then turned and followed after Teal’c. Jonas, Rahil, and the Jaffa would ride inside the transport vehicle, with Teal’c driving, as they took the tel’tac to the woods outside the city. The Jaffa was already in the cab behind the driver’s seat, and the techs had finished tying down the tarp concealing the Tok’ra craft and were now heading back inside the building.

Jonas turned to Kianna. “Time to go.”

She nodded. Her eyes were dry and her expression calm, but he knew it was an effort for her to keep them that way. It was for him. They embraced, kissed, and then separated far too soon. Jonas could only hope that the separation would be a temporary one.

“One last piece of advice,” Jonas said. “Colonel O’Neill has an… unusual sense of humor. If you can’t tell if he’s joking, then he probably is… most of the time.”

Kianna smiled. “I’ll try to remember that.”

Jonas reached out to take her hand, gave it one last squeeze, before turning and heading for the transport vehicle. A soft thrum filled the alley as Teal’c activated the transport’s engine. And though Jonas wasn’t stepping through a Stargate, he had the same feeling in the pit of his stomach now: half anticipation, half fear.

He climbed into the transport vehicle — there was just enough room inside the cab for the three men to sit shoulder to shoulder —Teal’c engaged the engine and the vehicle began moving. Jonas knew that Kianna was still standing there watching as they departed, but he couldn’t bring himself to look back.

Forty-five minutes later they reached the clearing Jonas had chosen for the tel’tac’s ascent into space. It wasn’t far from the road, and the trees here were spread far enough apart that Teal’c shouldn’t have too much difficulty maneuvering around and between them — at least, that’s what Jonas hoped.

The three hadn’t spoken much during the trip, each man alone with his own thoughts. Jonas knew that Rahil was thinking about his wife, and as for Teal’c… well, the Jaffa warrior only spoke when he thought he had something worth saying. Teal’c was even more silent before a battle though, as he preferred to meditate to prepare himself for the fighting to come. Jonas spent the trip mentally going over their plan again and again, trying to anticipate everything that might go wrong. At least, that’s what he tried to do. But time and again, he found himself thinking about Kianna.

And so when the vehicle’s onboard computer chirped, the sound startled all three of them. O’Neill’s voice issued from a small speaker set into the dashboard.

“Hey guys, it’s me. You in position yet?”

“Just about,” Jonas said.

“We’re ready on our end. Kianna got me hooked up to a control terminal at the spaceport so I can fly the drone ship from here. Here being your gate-room, by the way. I know this is your operation, Jonas, but I have to ask: do you really think it’s a good idea to control the drone remotely? If there’s a break in the communication link, I’ll lose control of the drone and you can say bye-bye to your distraction. Wouldn’t it be better if I went out to the spaceport and issued commands from a terminal there?”

“I considered that,” Jonas said. “But once the Array detects the drone ship, there’s a good chance it’ll trace the command signal back to the spaceport and destroy it.”

“Ouch.” There was a pause. “Better hope the link holds, then, because if I lose control of the drone, the plan is screwed.”

“But that doesn’t necessarily mean we won’t make it to the Array.”

“Maybe so, but your odds will suck wind at that point.”

Jonas sighed. “Yes, they will. We’ll just have to hope the communication links hold strong.”

“You know, I do an awful lot of hoping on this job. It tires a guy out sometimes. Give me a buzz when you’re in position and ready to launch. O’Neill out.”

Jonas was disappointed that he hadn’t gotten the chance to hear Kianna’s voice, but he told himself to stop acting like a teenager and leaned forward to consult the vehicle’s navigational computer.

“Slow down, Teal’c. We’re coming to our turn.”

Less than fifteen minutes later the transport vehicle was parked in a small clearing surrounded by tall trees. The three men stepped outside, their breath misting on the chilly night air.

Jonas looked up. The sky remained clear, and this far from the city lights the stars stood out in even sharper relief against the blackness of space.

“Good flying weather,” Teal’c remarked.

“A bit too cold for me,” Rahil said. “Let’s get the ship ready so I can get inside and get warm.”

Together they removed the tarp from the tel’tac, cast it aside, and then climbed onto the transport vehicle’s bed to enter the spacecraft. Once inside, Teal’c sat at the pilot’s station and placed his hands on the spherical control device. Interior lights and instrumental read-outs activated as the ship powered up, the door closed and the airlock automatically sealed. There were two seats just behind the pilot’s station — one for navigation, the other for weapons. Jonas took the former and, since Rahil had done the bulk of the work on adapting the tel’tac’s weapons system to fire a modified naquadria beam, he took the latter.

Jonas noticed that the Tok’ra was pale. They’d kept the cab lights off inside the transport vehicle the entire time they’d ridden from the Ministry of Defenses Building, so Jonas had no idea if Rahil’s paleness had just occurred or it he’d looked like that for a while now.

“Are you all right?” he asked the Tok’ra.

Rahil gestured, as if intending to wave away Jonas’s concerns. “I’m fine. It’s just…” Rahil stared out the tel’tac’s main window and into the dark forest beyond. “This is the first time it’s really hit me that this is where Avarene suffocated to death. Can you imagine how awful it must have been to die like that?”

Jonas glanced at Teal’c. The Jaffa gave him a look that said, It’s your call.

Turning to Rahil, Jonas said, “Before we lift off, I need to know that you’re going to be able to function during the mission. Otherwise, it would be best if you stayed behind.”

Rahil turned away from the window and glared. “I’ll be able to do my job, don’t you worry about that.” His expression softened then. “It’s… difficult to explain. Romantic relationships among the Tok’ra are complicated. Unlike the Goa’uld who dominate their hosts and suppress their personalities, the Tok’ra strive to live in harmony with our hosts in a true union. So when two Tok’ra fall in love, there are really four individuals involved — the Tok’ra and the two hosts. It’s hard enough for two people to bond deeply and maintain a lasting relationship, so you can imagine how much more difficult it can be with four personalities in the equation. But Avarene’s and my situation was different. We were already in love before we switched to our current hosts — and they were already in love when they accepted us. This strengthened the bond between us, all of us, in ways I could never hope to communicate to you. And now she’s gone… they’re both gone. And my host and I are alone.”

Jonas wasn’t sure he could understand how a being that possessed a joint consciousness could ever truly be considered alone, but that didn’t matter right now. What did matter was Rahil’s emotional state. If the Tok’ra broke down in the middle of the mission, it could mean the difference between success and failure, life and death, both for the three of them and for every man, woman, and child on the surface of Langara. But what choice did he have? Jonas needed someone to assist him, and Teal’c would be too busy flying the tel’tac. Jonas was beginning to regret his decision to bring along Rahil instead of Kianna, but it was too late to do anything about that now. They could afford no further delay. With every passing minute, the Replicator technology aboard the Array satellites was evolving, getting smarter and more sophisticated. It might already be too late to shut it down.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” Jonas said. “Both of your losses. I can’t imagine how difficult this is for you, but Teal’c and I need you to hold yourself together long enough to complete the mission. I hope you can do that.”

Before Rahil could respond, Teal’c spoke.

“I too have known such loss, Rahil. While the pain gets easier to bear as time passes, it never completely leaves you. Instead, it becomes part of who you are. My people have a saying: What the mind forgets, the heart remembers. But if during our mission, you find your thoughts dwelling on your wife, remind yourself of how valiantly she fought to survive long enough to land the tel’tac. If it wasn’t for her, we would not have this ship to fly now, and perhaps we’d have no chance of stopping the Array. If victory is ours this day, it will be due in no small part to your wife.”

“Thank you,” Rahil said. “Your words lend me strength.”

The Jaffa bowed his head to acknowledge the Tok’ra’s gratitude.

Jonas took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He figured they were as ready as they were going to get. He activated the communication system and opened a channel to O’Neill’s terminal in the Ministry Building.

“This is Jonas. We’re ready for take-off, Colonel.”

“All right. Launching drone ship… now. The bird’s in the air, Jonas. Good luck to you.”

“To us all,” Jonas said. He left the channel open so that they could easily communicate with O’Neill and Kianna during the flight.

“I’m tracking the drone ship with our sensors,” Rahil said. “We’ll know every move the craft makes and be able to react accordingly.”

There was nothing left to do except begin.

“Let’s go, Teal’c,” Jonas said.

The Jaffa warrior pressed his hands against the surface of the spherical control module, frowned in concentration, and the tel’tac slowly rose into the night sky.

“Cloaking device is engaged,” Teal’c said.

Jonas monitored the ship’s power output at the navigation station. He wasn’t concerned whether there would be enough power for the modified Tok’ra energy weapon: the prototype naquadria cell would provide its own power. But the tel’tac’s generators had suffered damage during the forced landing, and their repairs had, by necessity, been mostly a patchwork job. Good enough to get the craft airborne again, but how long the repairs would hold was anyone’s guess. According to the readout, so far so good, but Jonas intended to keep a close eye on the power levels during the mission.

“How is the craft handling?” Jonas asked.

“Sluggishly,” Teal’c said. “The tel’tac is responding to my commands, but with some hesitation. This will be a concern should we need to perform evasive maneuvers.”

“I’ll see what I can do to improve the ship’s responsiveness from my end.”

“That would be most appreciated, Jonas Quinn.”

Jonas began working controls on the navigation console. Without glancing up from his work, he asked Rahil, “How’s the energy weapon looking?”

“All seems well,” the Tok’ra answered. “Diagnostic readouts indicate there’s some slight fluctuation in the naquadria cell’s subatomic reaction, but that’s only to be expected since we used a prototype. I believe the reaction will remain stable long enough for us to reach the Array, but as we anticipated, I highly doubt we’ll be able to get off a second shot. The subatomic reaction will begin to collapse the moment we activate the energy weapon, and the power cell will become useless a few seconds after that. And once the cell goes, the energy weapon will be offline.”

“Then we shall have to make sure we take full advantage of the time we have,” Teal’c said.

“Speaking of time,” Jonas said as he continued to work on the navigation system, “how’s the drone ship doing?”

Rahil leaned over his console to check a sensor display. “It’s just entering the mesosphere.”

“Any response from the Array?”

“None that I can detect,” Rahil said. “But then the tel’tac’s sensors aren’t as attuned to the Array as those in the Ministry Building.”

“Good point.” Jonas activated the comm system. “Colonel, it’s Jonas. I thought you’d like to know we’re still in one piece. How are things going with the drone ship?”

“It’s still in one piece too, but only because I haven’t given it the command to separate yet.”

Kianna’s voice issued from the console’s speaker then, and Jonas was surprised by how glad he was to hear it.

“It looks like the Array’s sensors have detected the drone ship, but so far it’s not taking any action against the craft.”

“Any indication that the Array has detected the tel’tac?” he asked.

“None yet. But we should probably keep communication to a minimum. If the Array detects your comm signal…”

“It’ll wonder why that signal is originating from what appears to be empty air,” Jonas finished. “Good point. Radio silence from here on in. Quinn out.”

“The drone ship is entering the thermosphere,” Rahil said.

Jonas glanced at the navigation display. “We’re not far behind it,” he said. “We’re in the upper levels of the mesosphere and closing on the thermosphere.”

The tel’tac was a far more advanced craft than the Langaran drone ship and capable of traveling at much greater speeds, even within a planetary atmosphere, but Teal’c was keeping the tel’tac back to give the drone ship a chance to engage the Array first. The drone wouldn’t prove much of a distraction if the tel’tac beat it to its destination.

“The Array is activating weapons systems on the three satellites closest to where the drone ship will emerge into space,” Rahil said. “Their targeting systems have yet to lock on to it, though. Still no indication that the Array is aware of us.”

“Jonas Quinn,” Teal’c said. “Is it possible that the Array could convince our sensors that it has not detected us?”

“You mean is the Array only pretending not to notice us?”

“That is precisely what I mean.”

The thought was a disturbing one indeed. “I suppose it’s possible. There’s no way for us to tell, though. Not unless…”

Jonas decided to play a hunch. He accessed the ship’s sensors from the navigation station, and his fingers flew across the controls.

“The drone ship has left the thermosphere and is preparing to move into the Array’s orbit,” Rahil said. “O’Neill should be giving the command for the drone to separate into its component sections any moment. The main view screen is capable of creating a real-time simulation based on sensor data. All I need to do is… there!”

Jonas took his eyes off the navigation terminal to watch the image of the drone ship projected on the inner surface of the tel’tac’s window. He had a strong sensation of what Earth people called déjà vu. It seemed as if he were watching a replay of this morning’s test of the Array. He only hoped this mission turned out to be more successful.

The plan was a simple one. O’Neill would fly the drone ship close to several of the Array satellites and then command the vessel to separate into its five component parts. Each part would then orient on and attack a different satellite. This drone ship, like the first, had no offensive weaponry, but O’Neill would command the components to collide with the satellites they’d targeted. The Array would respond in one of two ways: it would use its energy beams to destroy the drone components or — in order to conserve power — it would take over their computer systems, just as it had done to the tel’tac when Avarene had tried to attack it. It didn’t matter which tactic the Array employed, as long as it was distracted enough by the drone for Rahil to fire the modified naquadria energy beam at one of the satellites. If all went as planned, that one burst of naquadria energy would start a chain reaction that would disable the entire Array.

But as Jonas had learned during his time with SG-1, if was a small word that could cause some mighty big problems.

He turned his attention back to the navigation terminal and continued reviewing sensor data as it streamed into the ship. It still said that the Array wasn’t aware of their presence, but Jonas noticed a slight flutter, for lack of a better word, in the data. It might not mean anything, but it could mean that Teal’c’s suspicions were correct. The tactic would fit perfectly with the Array’s programming to use the most energy-efficient strategy. But if it knew they were approaching, why hadn’t it done anything yet?

“Colonel O’Neill has given the command for the drone ship to separate,” Rahil said.

Something wasn’t right; Jonas knew it. But it was too late to do anything now except let the plan unfold and hope.

He kept an eye on the sensor data scrolling across the navigation console while sneaking glances at the holographic window display. The droneship, just as its twin had done earlier that day, slowly separated into five component sections. Individual thrusters fired and each component headed off in a different trajectory toward a different Array satellite. Just as yesterday, each component was transmitting a false signal indicating that it possessed defensive weaponry and that those weapons were now coming online and locking on to their chosen targets.

“How much longer until we’re in range of our satellite?”

“Just a few seconds more,” Rahil said. “I think we’re going to make it.”

If Colonel O’Neill had been present, he would’ve accused Rahil of jinxing the mission. Jonas was a scientist and not given to superstition, but, even so, he wasn’t surprised when the drone ship components slowly began turning away from the satellites and oriented on the tel’tac.

“What’s O’Neill doing?” Rahil said.

Teal’c answered before Jonas. “He is doing nothing. It seems the Array has taken control of the drone ship, just as it took control of the tel’tac earlier.”

“But why?”

“To use against us,” Jonas said, a sinking feeling in his stomach. “It knows we’re here and it doesn’t want to waste energy by firing upon us unless it has to. Do we have a clear shot at one of the satellites?”

Rahil didn’t answer. He just stared at the holo-display, watching the drone components gliding silently toward them like ocean predators. Jonas jumped up from his seat and crossed to Rahil. He looked over the man’s shoulder and read the data on the weapons console. As he suspected, the drone components were coming at them in a precise formation, blocking every possible shot they might have. If they fired their weapon now, they would only hit one of the components. And since they only had one shot, they couldn’t afford to waste it taking out a drone component.

“What should I do, Jonas Quinn?”

“We need to get clear of the components long enough to get a shot,” Jonas said. “Without getting rammed.”

“Understood.”

Teal’c caressed the control sphere, and the tel’tac banked to the left. The inertial dampeners groaned, and for a split second the internal gravity fluctuated, and Jonas had to grab hold onto the back of Rahil’s seat to keep from being thrown to the floor. Jonas knew Teal’c was an expert pilot, and if anyone could get them shot at the Array, he could. But the damaged tel’tac might not be up to the task.

Just then O’Neill’s voice came over the comm system.

“The Array’s taken control of the drone ship and it’s not responding to the self-destruct signal. Sorry guys, looks like you’re on your own up there.”

“Understood,” Jonas said. “We’ll do what we can.”

The drone components disappeared from the holo-display as Teal’c worked to get the tel’tac some breathing room, but they quickly hove back into view as the Array adjusted for their movement.

Rahil had done nothing since the moment he’d realized the Array had taken control of the drone ship, and now Jonas put his hand on the man’s shoulder and gave him a shake.

“Are you still with us, Rahil?”

The Tok’ra just stared at the holo-display. “I… There’s nothing we can do. We’re lost. Just like my poor Avarene.”

Jonas hauled Rahil out of the chair and shoved him toward the navigation station, then sat down at the weapons console. He wished he had time to be more gentle, but every instant counted. Instead of looking at the image of the holo display, Jonas focused his attention solely on the data readout, fingers poised over the controls, waiting for a clear shot.

“The tel’tac is slow to respond to my commands,” Teal’c said, clearly struggling to control the lumbering ship. “I may not be able to outmaneuver the drones.”

The tel’tac listed from side to side as Teal’c fought to get clear of the drone ships; Jonas was very glad that they hadn’t installed any actual weapons on them, or they’d all be dead.

Now seated at the navigation station, Rahil said, “Maybe we could try to jam the signal the Array is sending to the drone components? If we succeed, we might be able to break its hold on them long enough to get off a shot.”

Jonas smiled. Nice to have you back with us, Rahil. “Good idea. Do it.”

Rahil’s hand flew across the controls as he went to work, and Jonas began to think they just might have a chance — and that’s when an alarm sounded in the cockpit.

He looked up to see one of the drone components hurtling toward them — and fast.

There was nothing they could do.

“Collision imminent!” Teal’c shouted. “Brace for impact!”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

“What’s happening, Daniel?”

He stood hunched over one of the consoles in Yggdrasil’s main control room, trying to read the display in the dimness of the emergency lighting. Sam hurried to join him.

“I’m not certain. There’s a huge drain on the ship’s energy systems, that much I can tell. But I can’t figure out what’s causing it or how to stop it.”

He stepped aside to allow Sam to look at the console’s data screen, and she quickly scanned the information on the display. It was written in Asgard, and while she didn’t possess Daniel’s facility with languages, she’d worked with enough Asgard technology in her time to be able to get the gist of what was going on.

“It’s the Well again. For some reason it’s drawing energy from the rest of the ship and transmitting it through the holographic generators.”

“I’ll give you one guess who’s responsible.”

Sam nodded. “It has to be Surtr. Somehow his consciousness has learned to access Yggdrasil’s controls, and he’s using the ship’s holographic technology to do something — I just can’t figure out what it is.”

“Allow me,” came a gentle voice.

They turned to see Odin walking into the chamber. He moved unaided, but his legs trembled with each step. It seemed his body had degraded to the point where even the Asgard’s regeneration pod could only do so much for it. The Asgard scientist joined them at the console, and now it was Sam’s turn to step aside. She wanted to reach out and help support Odin, but she stopped herself. The Asgard were an ancient, proud race, and she didn’t want to insult Odin’s dignity.

Odin manipulated the Asgard stones and, while his alien physiognomy didn’t allow him the same range of facial expression as humans, the gray flesh above his eyes furrowed into a recognizable frown. “I believe Surtr is attempting to escape.”

“But that’s not possible!” Sam said. “His effector is deactivated. Unless he’s found some way to turn it back on by himself…”

“His effector is still in the storage unit where I placed it,” Odin said, “and it is still inactive. It appears Surtr is trying to overwrite his personality onto the effector of another.”

“He’s trying to steal someone else’s holo transmitter?” Daniel asked.

“Essentially,” Odin confirmed. “I shall try to block his attempt and download his mental pattern into a subsystem where it can be safely contained.” The Asgard continued working the controls.

“If Surtr succeeds, what’ll happen to the personality already using the effector?” Daniel said. “Will Surtr, in effect, kill the owner of the effector that he supplants?”

“No,” Odin said. “The mental patterns of both the Vanir and the Jotun are always stored within the Well. They are merely transmitted to their effectors when it is time for them to assume corporeality. Regardless of what happens to an effector physically, the Norsemen’s mental patterns are always safe in the Well. If Surtr manages to take over another effector, he will merely bar that individual from manifesting as a holographic persona.”

“So Surtr will be able to snatch the man’s body, but no harm will come to his soul,” Daniel said.

“A colorful way of phrasing it, but correct,” Odin said. His hands paused over the console’s controls, and an instant later the ship’s regular lighting was restored.

“I have failed. Surtr is free.”

“But you said the mental patterns of the Norsemen always remain in the Well,” Sam said. “So in reality, he’s still here.”

“Yes, but he has regained his ability to transmit his consciousness to a new effector, and despite my best efforts, I cannot interrupt that transmission. Thus, he is free.”

“I know you’re reluctant to shut down the entire holographic system,” Sam began, “but it might become necessary to stop Surtr.”

“I have already anticipated that, Major Carter. Unfortunately, Surtr has reconfigured the system’s programming and I am entirely locked out.”

“How could he do that?” Daniel asked. “Clearly he’s become aware of how to manipulate the system for his own benefit — he’s able to draw on more energy to make himself stronger — but his knowledge remains that of an ancient Norseman. He doesn’t know anything about computer programming.” He paused. “Does he?”

Sam thought for a moment. “It’s possible Surtr’s consciousness was able to access data from Yggdrasil’s other systems, in which case —”

“He was able to make himself a whole lot smarter very fast.”

Sam nodded. “The question is, how much smarter and for what purpose?” She turned to Odin. “Can you determine whose effector Surtr has taken over?”

“I shall endeavor to do so.” Odin touched the Asgard stones again and, a moment later, said, “He has usurped the effector of one of the low-ranking Jotun and is at this moment inside one of the Jotun’s longhouses, but what he is doing there, I cannot tell you. If I had Huginn and Munnin… but I do not.”

Sam grinned. “Maybe not, but you have Carter and Jackson.”

As Sam and Daniel approached the Jotun’s main longhouse, Sam found herself wishing she’d brought a spare uniform along. The charred smell of her jacket reminded her of the confrontation with Surtr outside Yggdrasil. Though her skin was completely healed, and despite the chill wind that was blowing, she imagined red-hot needles piercing her cheeks and hands. She ignored the feeling, though; she’d experienced worse than a few phantom pain sensations during her years with SG-1 — much worse.

Daniel usually preferred his Beretta, but right now that weapon was sheathed in its holster and he carried his P90. Sam carried her zat. Its energy had proved effective against Surtr before, and she hoped it would do so again.

There were no windows in the longhouse — the Norse built the structures with shutters inside, and they were closed now against the night wind — and the building was completely dark. There were no guards posted outside, but then Sam hadn’t expected any. The Vanir hadn’t employed any guards at their longhouse, and why would they? On Valhalla all hostilities ceased come sunset. At least, that’s the way it had been. But Surtr had rewritten the rules, and now there was no telling what might happen.

Sam and Daniel moved up to the longhouse door on cat feet, not that their caution was necessary, considering how loudly the wind was blowing. It wasn’t gale-force strength, as it had been during the worst of the windstorm last night, but it was bad enough. They took up a position next to the door, backs against the outer wall, weapons held at the ready, and they listened. Last night, the Vanir had been feasting, laughing, and singing as they celebrated the day’s battle. But the Jotun longhouse was deathly silent.

Deathly might well be right, Sam thought. The last image they’d seen of the battle’s outcome that day was of Surtr standing amid a field of corpses, holding Baldr’s head to the sky. If everyone else but Surtr had been slain, there’d be no one left to celebrate. Their effectors would remain dormant until sunrise when they would reactivate and their holographic bodies would be reset — “healed” for the new day of battle that lay before them.

Daniel gave Sam a questioning look that said, How do you want to play this?

Unfortunately, Sam had no idea. When it came to times like this, when none of the alternatives seemed like good ones, she had a way of coming to a decision: she asked herself what Colonel O’Neill would do. And the answer in this case was simple. She opened the door and walked inside. Daniel followed, a perplexed look on his face.

The inside of the Jotun’s longhouse closely resembled the way the Vanir’s had originally appeared, before becoming an eighteenth century barracks. Surtr, dressed in Norse clothing, sat at a table in the middle of the longhouse, close to the fire pit so that he would have light to work by. Jotun bodies — and parts of bodies — were piled all around the longhouse. The corpses still wore the eighteenth century uniforms they’d worn that morning, and the stench was horrendous. Sam was no stranger to the sights, sounds, and smells of death, but the interior of the longhouse smelled like a slaughterhouse at high noon, and Sam had to fight back her rising gorge. She knew that what she was looking at weren’t truly corpses, but rather holographic images surrounding the Jotun’s effectors, but the grisly sight took her aback just the same. Evidently Daniel felt the same way, for she heard the soft snick as he slid the P90’s safety off.

Surtr had a body laid out on the table in front of him, and he held a bloodstained knife in his hand. He didn’t look up as he spoke.

“If you’re going to come in, you should at least have the manners to close the door and keep the cold outside where it belongs.”

The giant then plunged the blade into the corpse at the base of the neck and began sawing downward in sure, strong motions.

Daniel closed the door quietly and the two of them walked slowly toward Surtr, weapons trained on the giant and ready to fire.

“What are you doing?” Daniel asked.

Surtr continued his butchery as he nodded to the table next to him. On top of it, laid out in two neat rows, were a dozen blood-smeared effectors.

“I’ve come to realize that if I’m going to defeat Odin, I need to become a true giant. These metal eggs are going to help me.” He stopped cutting, put the blade down, reached into the body and pulled the effector free. He held it up to the light of the fire pit to examine it, nodded, satisfied, and walked over to place it on the table with the others. Then he returned to the corpse, lifted it off the table as if weighed little more than a scarecrow, and tossed it onto the nearest pile of holographic bodies. Then he went to another pile, picked up a new body, carried it back to the table, and slapped it down on the surface. He then sat, picked up his knife, and resumed working.

Sam was so disgusted by the scene playing out before them that she longed to fire her zat at Surtr and take the bastard out. But she knew that as long as a bad guy was talking, it often paid to hold your fire — if nothing else, so that you could learn more about how to stop him.

“What —?” Daniel paused to swallow. Evidently, the scene was getting to him too. “What do you intend to do with the effectors?”

“I’m going to join them together to make myself a new body. A stronger one… So strong that not even Odin can stand against me.” He yanked the effector free of the corpse, placed it with the others, disposed of the body, got a fresh one, and went to work on it.

“We know you’ve learned a great deal from Yggdrasil’s database,” Sam said. “If you understand how to fuse separate effectors into a single device, then you must understand who Odin really is and what he’s trying to do. And if that’s the case, then you know you don’t need to fight him.”

“I have come to understand much,” Surtr said. He looked directly at Sam and Daniel for the first time since they’d entered the longhouse. “Back on Earth, when I was alive, I was a farmer. Most of the Jotun were. The Vanir too. To survive, we grew crops, raised animals, fished and hunted. Life was hard of for us, especially during the long, cold winters. We had to make sure we had enough food stored to last until spring, and if the crops failed one year, we faced starvation when winter came. I’m sure you can guess where the bad blood arose between my people and the Vanir.”

“Land,” Daniel said. “In your day, it was always land.”

Surtr nodded. “The Jotun’s farmlands were no longer as fertile as they once were, and some of us set out to discover fresh, vital lands. And we found them — except they belonged to the Vanir. Among our peoples, everything — land, animals, even women and children — belonged to those who were strong enough to hold onto them. We believed the gods wanted us to be strong, that they favored the strongest, that if we could take something then it was ours because the gods willed it to be so. We thought we were using our strength to make a better life for our families. And so we attacked the Vanir, intending to drive them from their lands and claim them for our own.”

“Except the Vanir were strong, too, weren’t they?” Sam said. “And they weren’t about to give up their home without a fight.”

Surtr nodded. “Which is as it should be… as we believed the gods wished it. We fought back and forth for several months with no clear victor. And how our little war eventually turned out, I have no idea, for one day I died in battle and was visited by Odin’s valkyrie. I was amazed, for deep down I hadn’t really believed in the gods, not as physical beings whom I might one day meet. And when she asked if I wished to travel to Valhalla and fight to help Odin one day stop Ragnarok, the end of all that is, I said yes with a heart full of wonder and gratitude. I’ve been here ever since — hundreds of years — fighting one battle after another against the Vanir, and for what? So that I can help an old weak creature, who is not a god, save his people from death.”

Surtr still held his knife and now he slammed it blade-first into the table.

“There are no gods and this is no paradise! It’s a…” He frowned, attempting to find the words to express what he wished to say. “A testing place, and we — Jotun and Vanir alike — are nothing but… but materials Odin is using to conduct his tests. He sees us not as people, but as things! No different from this knife.” Surtr yanked the blade free of the table’s wooden surface. “Tools to be used as he deems fit for his purposes, not ours. I intend to change that.”

Surtr plunged the knife back into the corpse and resumed cutting.

“You’re right,” Daniel said. “What Odin did to your people was wrong. Very wrong. How could you give informed consent if you didn’t fully understand? But how is defeating Odin going to help your situation now, and that of the Vanir?”

Surtr removed the knife from the corpse, set it aside, and yanked the effector free. He held it out toward Sam and Daniel, as if to give them a closer look.

“Once Odin is defeated, I shall become leader of both the Jotun and the Vanir. I understand now that Yggdrasil is not the world tree but rather a ship capable of traveling between worlds, that it was this ship that brought us to Valhalla. With Odin gone, I will learn more of the ship’s secrets until I know enough to sail it. Then I will teach the others. Once we have mastered the craft, we shall sail it from this world.”

Sam was stunned by the audacity of Surtr’s plan. But she had to admit it was possible. If Odin had maintained Yggdrasil’s engines over the centuries, the ship might still be space-worthy. And since the holographic generator was aboard the ship, Surtr and the other Norsemen could exist as physical beings inside it — assuming that there weren’t too many of them, else their massed energy would destabilize the ship’s systems, just as it disrupted Valhalla’s weather patterns.

“Where would you go?” Daniel asked. “What would you do? Go raiding once more, only sailing among the stars this time instead of across the ocean?”

Surtr shrugged. “We might. Or we might return to Earth to see how it has changed in our absence. Perhaps we might find a suitable world upon which to settle and build new lives for ourselves. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that whatever we do, wherever we go, it will be our choice and no one else’s.”

Daniel looked at Sam. “It’s a lot easier to fight these guys when they stay evil. It’s one of the things I like about the Goa’uld. All right, the only thing I like. At least with them, you always know where you stand.”

“We can sympathize with your situation, Surtr,” Sam said. “And we promise that we’ll work to help you resolve things peacefully with Odin. We’ve dealt with his people many times before, and while they’re not human, they once were — or something very close to it. From what we understand they were much like you Norse, in terms of their belief in strength and honor, and they definitely understand what it’s like to fight for the survival of their people. If you’d just try talking with Odin, you might find you have more in common than you think.”

Surtr looked at Sam for a long moment, and she began to hope that maybe she’d gotten through to him. But then he rose from the table and placed the newly harvested effector with the others. He then wiped his hands on the corpse’s uniform and came walking toward them. Sam’s hand tensed on her zat gun, but the Jotun commander stopped several yards away from them. He made no threatening move and so she did not fire.

“If Odin truly understands the ways of my people, then he will wish to test his strength against mine, as is our ancient tradition. And if there are no gods to decide which of us deserves to win then let it be chance that decides. Return to Odin’s ship and tell him that when the morning sun has cleared the horizon, I shall come for him.” A hint of firelight danced in his eye. “And tell him to be ready.”

With that, Surtr turned his back on them and started walking toward his work table.

Sam glanced at Daniel and he gave her a nod that said, Do it. As much as Sam hated shooting an opponent in the back, there was no way they could allow him to battle Odin tomorrow. The Asgard was simply too weak, and the strain on Yggdrasil’s systems might prove the old ship’s undoing. Surtr might kill Odin and claim the ship, but he wouldn’t be able to do anything with it if it was too badly damaged to function. And there was a distinct possibility such a devastating battle could end up causing damage to the holographic generator and the Well of Mimir, in which case, Surtr and the rest of the Norsemen would, in effect, finally die. Surtr might win the battle, but in the end he would lose the war — not just for himself but for his people as well. Sam couldn’t allow that to happen. It was better to stop Surtr now and try to talk to Odin on his behalf, see if some sort of peaceful compromise could be reached.

Sam aimed her zat’nik’atel at Odin’s retreating back and fired.

Energy flared bright, engulfing Surtr’s body, but the Jotun didn’t so much as slow down. Sam fired twice, then a third time, but without effect.

Surtr tossed the empty corpse onto the pile with others and retrieved a fresh body. He talked as he slapped it onto the table and began cutting.

“I understand enough of how your lightning weapon works to protect myself against it now, and despite my appearance as a flesh-and-blood man, the tiny spears from your other weapon will not penetrate my skin. There is nothing you can do to harm me or the silver egg inside me. Now go. I have much work to do to prepare for tomorrow’s battle.”

Clearly dismissing them, Surtr concentrated on his butchery.

“I fear Surtr’s plan will succeed,” Odin said. “At least partially. Since Surtr’s power comes from Yggdrasil, it will not be able to handle the strain on its systems when he attacks. The ship will be destroyed and everything I have worked for will be lost, along with the stored mental patterns of the Jotun and the Vanir. Centuries of effort… wasted.”

Odin had reluctantly accepted that his body was no longer strong enough for him to walk unaided, and he now sat inside a hovering oval chair. The chair responded to Odin’s mental commands, and it went wherever he wanted without his having to physically touch any control mechanism. A super hi-tech wheelchair, Sam thought. And while on one hand she was glad to see Odin mobile, on another it hurt to see him like this. Asgard were frail-looking beings at the best of times, and Odin was so weak now that he could barely hold his head upright.

“There’s still a chance we can stop Surtr,” Daniel said. “He’s not going to attack until sometime after dawn. That’ll give Jack and Teal’c more time to return from Langara with the naquadria power cell.”

Sam knew what Daniel wasn’t telling Odin: after talking with Surtr, they had hiked back to the Stargate and attempted to dial Langara to get a progress report from O’Neill and Teal’c. Only they hadn’t been able to establish a stable wormhole to the planet. After several failed attempts, they’d given up and dialed Earth. They’d spoken with General Hammond via radio, but the General told them SGC hadn’t received any communication from O’Neill and Teal’c.

Discouraged, Sam and Daniel had shut down the gate and returned to Yggdrasil. If Odin had wondered why they’d been gone so long, he didn’t say anything, and for that Sam was glad. She didn’t want to have to tell him that there was a real possibility that something was wrong with the Langarans’ gate and that the Colonel and Teal’c might not be able to return at all, let alone in time to help them stop Surtr.

There was, however, other bad news that she felt needed to be addressed.

“I’ve had a chance to look over the holographic generator to see if it can be altered to accept the naquadria power cell,” Sam said. “Unfortunately, it looks like the two technologies are fundamentally incompatible. We can probably find a work-around, but I don’t know if we’ll be able to do it in time.”

“So even if Jack and Teal’c get the cell back in time, you’re saying we can’t use it?” Daniel half-yawned this last word. “Sorry about that. I guess I’m a little tired.”

“Of course you are,” Sam said. “You didn’t have a nap in Odin’s regeneration pod.” She felt well rested, as if her hour-long session had given her the equivalent of a full eight hours of sleep. “Why don’t you go lie down for a bit? Odin and I can work on figuring out a way to make the naquadria power cell work for us.”

“Don’t worry about me,” Daniel said. “I’ll be fine.” He covered his mouth with the back of his hand as he fought off another yawn.

“Go on. I’ll wake you in two hours.”

For moment she thought Daniel was going to protest further, but in the end he nodded.

“But only two hours. Promise?”

Sam nodded, and Daniel left the control chamber in search of a bed.

“I cannot assist you physically,” Odin said, “but I can still offer my knowledge.”

Sam smiled. “You’re an Asgard. Your knowledge is your greatest tool. Besides, while I work, you can tell me more about the operation of the holo generator. I think we might be able to find a way to use the naquadria cell to turn Surtr’s own power against him.”

Despite his weakness, Odin managed to cock his head to the side, a gesture which Sam knew indicated curiosity in the Asgard.

“You have some ideas?”

Sam grinned. “Always. Now let’s get to work.”

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Jonas tore his gaze from the drone ship, quickly rerouted navigation controls to his station, and accessed the tel’tac’s power system.

“Boosting power to the maneuvering thrusters!”

“Acknowledged.” The knuckles on the Jaffa warrior’s hands bulged as he gripped the tel’tac’s control sphere. A low-pitched sound thrummed through the ship’s cabin as the thrusters released bursts of power nearly twice what they were designed for.

The tel’tac began to veer starboard just as it appeared the drone ship component would smash into them, and Jonas gripped the edge of the console to steady himself for the impact to come. Except… it didn’t. The tel’tac continued moving smoothly through space and the drone component disappeared from view.

“Collision averted,” Teal’c said, in his stoic manner. But Jonas had known the man long enough to detect the subtle hint of relief in his voice.

Rahil leaned over the navigation console, reading the data flowing across its screen. “But we burned out the port and aft thrusters doing it,” he said, “and starboard thrusters are down to seventeen percent. The stern thrusters are at full capacity, for all the good they’ll do us.”

And all five drone components are still out there gunning for us. The ploy had bought them a few more seconds, that was all. Jonas checked the weapons readout but they still didn’t have a clear shot at any of the Array satellites.

“The component that missed us is circling around for another strike,” Rahil said, “and the other four are closing in fast. Looks like the Array is planning to use them to crush us.”

“We can escape,” Teal’c pointed out. “We have but to engage the sublight engine.”

“But if we try that,” Rahil said, “the Array will fire an energy beam to prevent us from getting away. Same if we bring the hyperdrive online. The Array will destroy us before we can activate it.”

Jonas hated to admit it, but the Tok’ra was right. The Array might be reluctant to waste power, but it would still use it when necessary. And if the five sections of the drone ship failed to take out the tel’tac, the Array would use other means to stop them. No matter what, it would not allow them to escape.

“The components are closing swiftly, Jonas Quinn,” Teal’c said. “If we are to act, it must be now.”

Jonas thought furiously. Was there some way they could attempt to override the Array’s signal to take back control of the drone ship? They didn’t have the equipment for it, and while Jonas might be able to improvise something, he would need a lot more time than they had right now. Should they risk blasting one of the drone components with the naquadria-enhanced energy beam and hope there would be enough power remaining for a second shot at a satellite? No, even if they managed to destroy a single component, the other four would slam into them before they could fire upon one of the satellites. But if they failed this time, they would never get another chance. The Array would never fall for the same trick again and, worse, it might well come to believe the Langaran people were a threat and never allow them to launch another space vehicle. The Langarans would be trapped on their own world, kept there by a machine Jonas had designed to protect them.

No! He refused to let that happen. There had to be some way…

And then it came to him: the starboard thruster was at seventeen percent, but they still had the stern thrusters.

“Fifteen seconds until collision,” Rahil said, sounding worried. Two of the approaching drone ship components were visible through the tel’tac’s front window, impossibly close.

“Hold on.” Jonas’s eyes darted back and forth between the various displays on the weapons console, taking in bits of data as his fingers flew across the controls, inputting a complex program. “I’m going to need full control of the helm, Teal’c. On my mark.”

The Jaffa raised an eyebrow but he didn’t question Jonas’s request. “As you wish.”

“Six seconds,” Rahil said.

Jonas typed in a last command. He wished he had time to double-check his calculations, but their time had run out.

“Now, Teal’c!”

The Jaffa warrior removed his hands from the control sphere at the same instant Jonas entered the command for his program to activate. The tel’tac’s remaining thrusters — stern and starboard — fired, sending the ship rolling out of the path of the oncoming drone components. Each of the components fired reverse thrusters in order to avoid colliding, but it was too little, too late. All five pieces of the drone ship rejoined, but not in the way they were designed to. There was a bright flash of light as engines exploded, and fragments of the craft burst outward. The tel’tac continued spinning and rolling until its nose came back around to face the explosion. And then Jonas’s program activated the naquadria-enhanced energy beam as it searched the widening debris field for a trajectory that would allow it to get a decent shot at one of the Array satellites.

“The Array has targeted us and is powering up energy beams on the three closest satellites!” Rahil shouted.

Jonas’s jaw muscles clenched. They were reliving a time-honored Wild West scenario — the shootout — and everything came down to who was fastest on the draw.

The tel’tac fired a split second before the Array. The naquadria-enhanced energy beam lanced forth from the Tok’ra vessel, passed through the drone ship’s debris field without striking any of the fragments, and hit the nearest Array satellite. The tel’tac continued spinning, but the holo display recreated what was happening outside. The three men watched as the satellite flared bright with golden energy, and then a beam shot out from that satellite to strike the next closest one, and a chain reaction followed, as golden beams of energy shot from one Array satellite to another, causing the naquadria power cells within to overload. It took only seconds, and when the last satellite flared bright and then dimmed, Jonas checked the sensors.

He smiled with relief. “There are no power readings from any of the satellites. The Array is shut down.”

“Are you sure your guys have got this thing working again?” O’Neill asked. “I’d hate to step through and have my atoms scattered across the galaxy.”

Jonas, O’Neill, Teal’c, Kianna, and Rahil stood in the gate-room within the Ministry of Defense Building. Resting on the floor was a metal case containing the last naquadria energy cell prototype.

“The Stargate is functioning perfectly, Colonel,” Kianna said. “The DHD suffered some minor damage during the Array’s attack on the building, but it’s been repaired.”

“Uh-huh.” O’Neill glanced at the Langarans’ gate, but he didn’t look convinced.

“Are you certain you are willing to part with your last power cell, Jonas Quinn?” Teal’c said.

“It’s the least we can do after all your help,” Jonas said. “The Joint Ruling Council would prefer that we hang on to it, but I pointed out that since the Array’s been destroyed, we don’t have anything for the cell to power. They were still reluctant to let it go, so I reminded them that it was their idea to push ahead with the test of the Array before we were ready. I also told them that we might need SGC’s help to clean up the mess orbiting our planet. I’m confident the naquadria reaction we set off burned out the Tok’ra-adapted Replicator tech, but why take chances?” Jonas grinned. “In the end the Councilors decided it was in our world’s best interest to part with the prototype.”

“Besides,” Kianna added, “we can always build more naquadria cells.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?” O’Neill asked. “I mean, after the killer satellites and all.”

“Langara still needs to be protected against off-world attacks,” Jonas said. “After seeing what the naquadria-enhanced Tok’ra energy weapon can do, I’m thinking we might be able to construct some sort of ground-based defense system using a similar device — but we’ll spare the Replicator tech this time.”

Jonas looked at Rahil and the Tok’ra smiled. “I’ll second that.”

“Are you going to leave Langara and rejoin your people?” Teal’c asked Rahil.

The Tok’ra’s expression grew somber. “I plan to use the Langarans’ Stargate to take Avarene to a small uninhabited world we loved to visit. The foliage is so… well, I think she would like her remains to rest there.” He paused for a moment before going on. “Afterward, I’ll return to Langara and help Jonas and Kianna create the new defense system. The Tok’ra will supply the necessary equipment, as well as technicians to aid in its installation. We…” He trailed off and sighed heavily. “I need to make up for what we almost did to this world. That is, if the Council will accept my assistance after everything I’ve done.”

“I’ll speak to them on your behalf,” Jonas promised.

“And my people will put in a good word for you, too,” O’Neill added.

Rahil nodded his thanks to the two men.

“Now that everything’s taken care of here, we should get going,” Jonas said. He bent down and picked up the case containing the naquadria cell. He was hopeful the prototype would do the job. At least he knew it was safe to use, since no Replicator technology had been introduced into its system. “I’m sure Sam and Daniel are anxious to get their hands on it.”

Kianna looked as if she was about to say something, but instead she turned and walked away. Jonas turned to the others. “Give me a moment?”

“No sweat,” O’Neill said. “We’ll hang out and shoot the breeze, just us three guys.” O’Neill looked at Rahil. “Well, three guys and a snake.”

Jonas gave the Colonel a grateful smile. He handed Teal’c the naquadria-cell container and walked after Kianna. She had nearly reached the gate-room’s exit by the time Jonas caught up with her. He gently took hold of her arm to stop her. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s foolish of me to feel like this,” she said. “You must go to Valhalla with your friends. I know that. They’ll need your help to install the naquadria cell and adapt it to function with Asgard technology. It’s just…”

He took both of her hands in his. “Just what?”

“I almost lost you today, Jonas. And now you’re going to travel halfway across the galaxy to a world where holographic warriors fight an eternal battle as part of some strange Asgard experiment — an experiment that’s gone badly wrong. What if —?”

Jonas cut Kianna off by leaning forward and pressing his lips to hers. They kissed for a long moment, and when they parted he let go of her hands and reached up to gently brush a lock of hair from her face.

“I admit this trip could be risky, but believe me when I say I have every intention of returning to Langara in one piece. Because for the first time in my life, I finally have something worth coming home for.”

They embraced and kissed once more, and Jonas was dimly aware of O’Neill saying, “So… you guys know any good jokes?”

Sam, Daniel, and Odin were gathered around the console that controlled the Well of Mimir when O’Neill, Teal’c, and Jonas came walking into the chamber. Jonas carried a metal case, and the sight of it filled Sam with relief.

“Thanks for the leaving the door unlocked,” O’Neill said.

Odin nodded weakly. Sam noted that both the Colonel and Teal’c exchanged glances upon seeing the Asgard in his mobility chair, but neither commented on it. Jonas was clearly fascinated by everything around him — his head kept swiveling about as he worked to take in the whole chamber — but the Well quickly became the main focus of his attention.

He walked over to the edge of the pit and stared down at the swirling energy. “Astonishing,” he said, the word barely more than a whisper.

Laughing, Sam went over to join him, and Daniel followed.

“Nice to see you too, Jonas,” she said.

The man turned to her and gave her a sheepish smile. “Sorry. I was geeking out there for a moment, as the phrase goes. Good to see you, Sam, Daniel.” He gave Sam a quick hug and shook Daniel’s outstretched hand.

Odin drifted over to greet Jonas, and though his race didn’t shake hands as a matter of course, the alien lifted his slender, long-fingered hand for Jonas to shake. The Asgard’s hand trembled with the effort, and Jonas gently clasped the hand and then released it.

“An honor to meet you, sir,” Jonas said.

“And for me as well, my friend,” Odin said. “Thank you for coming — and thank you for the gift you bring.”

“You’re very welcome.” Jonas held out the metal case for Sam to take. “It’s a prototype. We ran into some problems with the others.”

Jonas glanced at O’Neill and Teal’c, and Sam knew there was a story there — as usual.

“Sounds interesting, but we’ll have to compare notes as we work,” she said. “We’re on the clock here.”

Jonas grinned. “Naturally. From what I gather, the plan is to use the naquadria cell as an additional power source for the holographic generator.”

“That was the plan,” Sam said. “But it looks like we’re not going to be able to make the two technologies work together, at least not in the time we have. And if this” —she gave the case a slight shake for emphasis — “is only a prototype…”

“There’s even less chance of making it work,” Jonas said, “because it hasn’t been designed to interface with other systems, like the power cells we used in the Array satellites.”

She nodded. “Precisely.”

O’Neill and Teal’c came over to the edge of the pit to join them.

“Okay, so we’re short on time and the prototype’s not going to work the way we hoped,” O’Neill said. “I contacted General Hammond before we left Langara and asked him to call Thor to help us, but he received no reply. The little gray bugger is probably busy somewhere — or he’s still unhappy about Odin’s experiments and not responding. Either way, it looks like we’re on our own, Carter, so please tell me you have a plan.”

“I do, sir. It’s kind of complicated, but I think there’s a good chance of success if —”

O’Neill held up a hand to stop her. “A good chance, huh? That’s better than we usually get. Make it so.”

Everyone stared at him.

“What? I heard it on a TV show once and thought I’d try it out.”

The SG-1 team — plus one — stood on the valley floor. The purple sky was tinged pink at the horizon, a sign the world was on the verge of awakening to a new day, but the bodies scattered throughout the valley served as a grotesque counterpoint to the promise of the coming dawn. Every one of the corpses was Vanir, and they remained garbed in the eighteenth century uniforms they’d worn when they died. The warriors hadn’t simply been slain, however. Their bodies had been savaged. This wasn’t warfare, Sam thought. This was slaughter.

She’d caught a glimpse of the aftermath of yesterday’s battle in Yggdrasil, when Odin’s ravens had transmitted an image of a victorious Surtr. But that glimpse had in no way prepared her for the reality she found herself confronted with now. Surtr hadn’t just defeated the Vanir, he’d desecrated their bodies as a way of sending a message to Odin — and maybe to relieve a small measure of the anger that had been building up within him over the centuries. Sam knew the dead men around her were illusions, projections created by the effectors which lay at the core of their holographic bodies. And Surtr was well aware that the damage he did was only temporary and would be repaired when the Vanir’s effectors reset the next morning. But he had also known that the Vanir would experience every bit of the pain he’d inflicted just as intensely as if they had been men of living flesh. And from the condition of the bodies surrounding them, Sam had no doubt the Jotun commander had reveled in the suffering he had caused.

And to think she’d almost felt sorry for Surtr when she and Daniel had spoken with him in the Jotun longhouse last night.

“You’re sure this one’s the leader?” Jonas said, nodding to the nearest corpse. “I mean, he doesn’t, uh…”

“Have a head, Jonas,” O’Neill said. “No need to be sensitive about it. Not only can’t he hear you, because he’s currently dead, he doesn’t have any ears at the moment. Because, you know… No head.”

“His uniform tells his rank,” Teal’c said.

“And his head was…?”

“Taken by Surtr,” Daniel explained. “But where it is is anyone’s guess.”

“He shouldn’t need it,” Sam said. “Just like the rest of him, it’s a holographic projection. Once the effectors reset —”

The first ray of sunlight filtered down into the valley then, and the dead began to stir. Sam hadn’t been sure what to expect when the effectors reset. Would the Vanir’s bodies blur and then sharpen as they reconfigured themselves? Would time run backward for them, like video footage in reverse, with broken limbs straightening, internal organs leaping back into their bodies, and wounds sealing themselves shut? But in the end the process was rather disappointing. One instant the Vanir were a scattered collection of mutilated corpses, and the next they were whole, healthy, and rising to their feet. And not only had they been restored to life, their eighteenth century military regalia had taken another leap forward in time. Now they wore battle dress uniforms similar to those of SG-1 and carried P90s — just as Odin had programmed them to. Sam wished Odin had been able to program them to carry zats as well, but the energy required to simulate two hundred zat’nik’atels would’ve placed far too great a strain on Yggdrasil’s power supply, which was already spread thin enough as it was.

Baldr — his head once more back on his shoulders where it belonged — stood and greeted them with a smile.

“Good morning, my friends! It’s a pleasure to see you all again! And a pleasure for me to make the acquaintance of your companion.” Baldr grabbed hold of Jonas’s hand and gave it a hearty shake.

“Don’t you just hate morning people?” O’Neill said.

“We don’t have time to explain,” Sam said, “so you’re just going to have to trust us. Surtr is planning on leading the Jotun in an assault on Yggdrasil, and Odin has sent us to ask for your help in stopping them.”

Sam had asked Odin if they couldn’t simply program full awareness of the current situation into the Vanir so that when they awakened, they’d know exactly what was happening and what their role in the upcoming battle would be. But Odin had told her that any information they attempted to pass along to the Vanir might be learned by Surtr, and that shot that idea down. It was a risk they couldn’t afford to take. The team would just have to hope that they could convince Baldr of the truth.

“This is Valhalla,” Baldr said solemnly. “Every morning for hundreds of years, the Vanir and the Jotun have met in this valley to do battle, just as Odin wills it. But you are telling me that this day — for some reason — will be different.”

Sam looked to her teammates for support, but all they did was look back at her. It seemed they were equally lost for words. “Well… yeah.”

Baldr looked at each of SG-1 in turn before fixing his gaze firmly on Sam.

“You fought valiantly at my people’s side yesterday,” Baldr said. “Warriors who behaved so nobly yesterday would not speak falsely today. Lead on, my friends, and the Vanir shall follow.” Baldr grinned. “I shall relish the chance to prove myself in this new contest.”

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

The giant swept his flaming sword back and forth in blazing arcs, striking through Vanir and Jotun alike. But when the fire-flecked blade struck the warriors, instead of slicing through their flesh it caused them to burst into flame which was then immediately absorbed by Surtr’s weapon. And with each warrior Surtr struck and absorbed, the giant increased in size and mass, his armor, clothing, and sword growing proportionately with him. He’d stood twenty feet tall when he’d entered the valley, but now he was closing in on thirty feet and showed no sign of stopping. The giant continued striding forward, sword sweeping around him, destroying friend and foe alike and using their bodies to fuel his growth.

“Now we know why Surtr’s warriors maintained a discrete distance from him,” Sam said. “They wanted to avoid being absorbed until their master was ready.”

O’Neill’s analysis was more succinct. “Oh, crap.”

The sound of gunfire in the valley was deafening, but not so much that it drowned out the screams of the men — Vanir and Jotun alike — being absorbed by Surtr. He strode among the warring men like a savage demon-god, slashing about with his flaming sword. Every man he struck, friend and foe alike, vanished in a burst of fire, and with every death, Surtr grew larger.

O’Neill ordered Sam and Teal’c to retreat and take cover behind the rocky ridge where they’d been concealed before the attack began.

“How’s Surtr doing that?” he asked. “They’re holograms — he can’t really kill them.”

“I don’t think he is killing them, sir. More like… absorbing their energy somehow.”

“Surtr is taking more than their energy,” Teal’c said. “If the Norsemen’s holograms were merely deactivated, their effectors would remain behind and fall to the ground. But none are visible.”

Sam could’ve kicked herself for not noticing that. “When Daniel and I spoke with Surtr last night, he was in the process of harvesting effectors to merge them into a single unit capable of drawing immense power from Odin’s ship. It looks like he’s become so strong that he can actually draw more effectors to him.”

O’Neill narrowed his eyes. “Kind of like a giant magnet?”

Sam looked at the colonel for a moment before replying. “Actually, this time, it really is just like that.”

“This isn’t good, Carter,” O’Neill said. “Surtr was hard enough to defeat when he was just a baby giant. But now that he’s a daddy giant…”

“And we have another problem, sir.”

“Another?” O’Neill said. “Sure, why not? We’ve got so many, what’s one more?”

“Remember what happened the last two mornings when the Vanir and Jotun met on the field of battle?” Sam said. “Odin told us that massed holographic energy causes the weather patterns of the planet to destabilize —”

Before Sam could finish her sentence a blast of howling wind tore through the valley.

“The windstorms. Right. Forgot about those.” He sighed. “When it rains…”

Sam had to yell to be heard over the shrieking wind. “This could work to our advantage, sir! The added confusion might keep Surtr from realizing what we’re up to!”

After the Vanir’s regularly schedule resurrection, the SG-1 team had hurried to make their preparations before Surtr began his attack on Yggdrasil. The ship lay on the other side of the valley from where the Jotun’s longhouses were located, and the team gambled that Surtr would take the most direct route for his approach. During all the centuries that the Norsemen had been battling on this world, they’d experienced only minor changes — updated uniforms and time-period appropriate weapons to accompany them. But they were holograms so, theoretically, they could take any shape they were programmed to — human, or non-human. With Odin’s help, the Vanir’s effectors had been reprogrammed to take the forms of rocks and boulders, allowing them to blend into the landscape and hide in plain sight while Surtr and the Jotun entered the valley. Once Surtr and his men were surrounded, the Vanir returned to their normal shapes to attack. Not that it had done much good. The SG-1 team couldn’t have anticipated how powerful Surtr’s super-effector had made him. The Vanir’s assault had only served to give Surtr more victims to increase his strength. At the rate the fire giant was going, soon both the Jotun and Vanir armies would be wiped out, their effectors merged with his, and he’d become more powerful than perhaps even Odin could imagine.

“Carter, what would happen to one of us if we got hit by Surtr’s sword?” O’Neill asked. “We’re not holograms and we don’t have any effectors for him to steal.”

Before Sam could answer, Daniel came leaping over the ridge and slid into a crouch beside his teammates.

“The sword is putting off a tremendous amount of heat,” Daniel said. “We’d be fried if the blade came anywhere near us. I managed to stay well away from Surtr, and I still got a little singed around the edges.”

The sound of weapons fire had grown fainter while they’d talked, and at first Sam thought the noise was simply being masked by the wind, but now she realized that the reason the chattering roar of the Vanir’s P90s had decreased was because Surtr had continued to absorb the Norsemen. SG-1 had intended the valley to be a trap for Surtr, but now she wondered if the Jotun commander hadn’t outmaneuvered them, anticipating they’d lead the Vanir in an assault on him and his men. Surtr had wanted to get his hands on as many effectors as he could, and SG-1 had delivered those of the Vanir right to him. Still, they had one ace left up their collective sleeve.

It was all up to Jonas now.

Jonas crouched low behind a boulder. Well, technically it wasn’t a boulder but rather a hologram of a boulder, and to get really technical about it, it wasn’t a boulder but rather the Vanir leader Baldr who was currently projecting the shape of a boulder. Earlier, when they’d been rushing to set everything up, O’Neill had said, Baldr, boulder… Coincidence or evidence of the hand of fate?

Despite the situation, Jonas couldn’t help smiling. As rewarding as he found his research on Langara, he’d missed the exhilarating… strangeness, for lack of a better word, that he’d experienced serving with SG-1. Take for example what was happening now. A few hours ago he’d helped to stop a rogue planetary defense system that had threatened his home world, and now here he stood, half a galaxy away, watching two holographic armies battle while a monstrous giant rampaged in their midst, somehow absorbing their essences to increase his own power.

Talk about job variety.

Jonas cautiously raised his head and peered over the top of the boulder… Baldr. Whatever.

Very few Norsemen of either side remained on the battlefield, and Surtr was dispatching what few of them were left with savage efficiency, swinging his flaming sword in wide sweeping arcs. Fierce winds whipped through the valley — Sam had warned him about them, and he wasn’t surprised they were occurring now, not with the vast amounts of holographic energy massed in Surtr’s gigantic form.

The winds caused the fire wreathing Surtr’s sword to trail in long streams from the blade as he swung it, and despite the fact the giant was at least a quarter of a kilometer from Jonas’s position, he could feel heat rolling toward him in waves almost too painful to bear. The flames might not be real in the strictest sense of the word, but the energy that created them still produced a tremendous amount of heat, and “real” or not, that heat could kill.

The Vanir’s surprise attack had never been designed to stop Surtr, but rather to slow him down and hopefully weaken him. Unfortunately, the reverse had happened. The addition of the Vanir’s energy to his own had only strengthened the giant. Surtr had stood eight meters tall when he’d entered the valley, and now he was at least twice that, and probably closer to three times the size. Was it possible that the Jotun commander had grown too powerful to be stopped? Jonas knew there was only one way to find out.

When the last Norsemen — a Jotun — had been claimed by Surtr’s sword, Jonas leaned near the stone surface of the boulder and said, “It’s time.”

He stood back as the boulder shimmered and blurred. When it came into focus again, Baldr was standing there, hunched over, a metallic device clutched in his arms. The Vanir commander straightened and handed Jonas an ugly, ungainly looking machine. He and Sam had created the patchwork conglomeration by melding Jonas’s prototype naquadria power cell with one of Odin’s effectors. The result wasn’t pretty, but aesthetic concerns took a back seat to functionality.

Baldr turned and regarded Surtr grimly. The giant stood alone on the battlefield now, looking more like a demon than a god. Jonas thought of the Norse legend of Ragnarok, and had no trouble imagining they were on the verge of it now.

“Get your machine ready, my friend,” Baldr said. “I shall bring Surtr to you.” Without waiting for Jonas to reply, the Vanir commander stepped forward. His form blurred once more, and his twenty-first century military garb vanished, replaced by clothing and armor appropriate for his native time period. He sprouted a beard and his hair became long, the blond tresses trailing in the fierce winds, along with his flapping cloak. Though the winds tore at him as if he were no more than a rag doll, Baldr never faltered as he strode toward the fiery giant. After he’d walked a dozen meters, the Vanir commander planted his feet firmly on the rocky ground, drew his sword in a single smooth motion and raised it high above his head in challenge. Jonas gave him this: the man had style.

Quickly placing the naquadria effector on the ground, Jonas turned it on. The wind was so loud, he sensed more than heard the low thrum of power as the device activated. But despite the noise generated by the howling windstorm, he had no difficulty hearing Baldr shout, and he wondered if the man was somehow using his effector to boost the volume of his voice in order to be heard.

“Surtr!” he bellowed. “This is not the way men make war! You fight without honor!”

For a moment Surtr didn’t react, and Jonas wondered if the giant had heard Baldr’s words. Surtr stood with his flaming sword held at his side, head tilted back, eyes closed, the flames where his hair and beard should be trailing in the blasting winds without signs of weakening, let alone being extinguished by their fury. The Jotun commander seemed to have retreated inward, almost as if he were in deep meditation — or perhaps simply savoring the vast power that was now his to command.

Baldr shouted Surtr’s name once more, and this time the giant opened his eyes of flame and lowered his head until those blazing eyes were fixed on the leader of the Vanir. Crimson-fleshed lips drew back from teeth that now came to fine sharp points.

“Hello, Baldr, my old friend. How fitting that it should come down to the two of us in the end.”

Jonas expected the giant’s voice to be a booming bass that echoed through the valley like peals of thunder. But instead it sounded unsettlingly normal, almost as if Surtr was standing next to Jonas and speaking in a pleasant tenor. However Surtr managed the effect, Jonas found it eerie and in its own way far more disturbing than if the Jotun had sounded as monstrous as he appeared.

“This is not how it was meant to be!” Baldr shouted. “You know that!”

Surtr spoke calmly, a hint of weary sadness in his voice. “You’re right. We shouldn’t be here — none of us should, Jotun or Vanir. We were supposed to die on a battlefield back on Earth centuries ago. You and I aren’t even real, we’re echoes of men long dead. Not even ghosts, really. Just memories pretending to be alive. I’m going to put a stop to it, Baldr. I’m going to set us free — all of us. Join me.”

“You extend an invitation for me to join you,” Baldr said, his voice filled with rage. “But what of my men and yours? What choice did you give them as you were swinging that great fiery sword you wield? As the flames devoured them, did you assume the screams that escaped their mouths were instead cries of consent?”

This time Surtr’s smile held a mocking edge. “You were always good with words, Baldr. You should’ve been a skald instead of a warrior. What I’ve done, I’ve done for the sole purpose of releasing our people from their servitude to a false god. When Odin is defeated, I shall give up the power I’ve taken and separate the silver eggs that now make up the core of my being. The Jotun and Vanir shall then live again, and together we shall chart our own destiny, whether here on this world or out on the dark seas of space, sailing among the stars in Odin’s own ship.”

“Do you truly expect me to believe that you will willingly relinquish the power you have stolen? What you are doing isn’t about the Vanir or the Jotun, Surtr. You’re doing this for yourself, solely out of your own desire to see Odin humbled.”

Surtr took a step forward, and the impact of his booted foot caused the valley floor to tremble. Jonas glanced down at the naquadria effector. He and Sam had added metal struts to the side to support the device, and it remained upright and steady. A closer look at the readout on the face of the machine told Jonas that the naquadria cell’s subatomic reaction was well underway, and the device needed only a few more seconds to reach full power.

“And what if I am?” Surtr’s voice cracked like lightning, all pretense of humanity gone. “He used us, Baldr, made us dance like puppets on strings for hundreds of years, made us fight and kill, over and over, day in and day out, year after blood-soaked year — and for what? All so he could find a way to further prolong the life of his people, a race whose members have already lived longer than any of us can imagine? Such selfishness, such arrogance…”

Baldr took a quick glance back over his shoulder at Jonas. Jonas checked the power readout and saw that the naquadria effector had reached a full charge. He gave Baldr a wave to let him know, and the warrior turned back around to face the fiery giant whom he’d fought so many battles against throughout the centuries, but none, perhaps, more important than this one.

“As we lay dying, we were asked if we wished to serve Odin,” Baldr said. “He could’ve taken our spirits whether we wished him to or not, but he left the choice up to us. That’s more than you’ve done for our people, Surtr. You took their power for your own simply because you wanted it. I once thought of you as a noble opponent, but now I see you for what you truly are. You’re nothing more than a lowly thief, and you disgust me.”

Jonas figured that was his cue. He turned and ran toward the outcropping where his companions were concealed, fighting the raging winds with every step he took. He only hoped he’d make it to safety before everything went to hell.

“I will destroy you!”

Surtr’s roar shook the valley, and Sam watched as the giant raised his flaming sword. Baldr turned and sprinted for the naquadria effector that Jonas had abandoned, running all out.

All four members of the SG-1 team peered over the outcropping, and Daniel said, “He’s not going to make it!”

Sam had no idea whether he was referring to Jonas or Baldr. Both, probably.

As Jonas neared the outcropping, O’Neill and Teal’c stood, both men shouting encouragement. Sam kept one eye on Jonas and the other on Baldr. She watched the Vanir commander draw close to the naquadria effector as Surtr’s sword came swinging down toward him, streams of flame trailing behind it. The heat was almost unbearable from here — Sam shuddered, remembering what it had felt like to burn during her encounter with Surtr outside Yggdrasil — and as close as Baldr was to Surtr, Sam knew that if the Vanir hadn’t been a holographic being, he’d already be dead.

As if sensing the nearness of the fiery blade, Baldr dropped his own sword and leaped toward the naquadria effector. At the same instant, Jonas jumped over the outcropping and O’Neill and Teal’c each grabbed hold of one of his arms and pulled the Langaran down with them. Sam tried to continue watching, but Daniel grabbed hold of her shoulder and pushed her down. She just managed to see the instant when the tip of Surtr’s gigantic blade struck Baldr and reduced him to flames, which the sword swiftly absorbed. Baldr had only managed to get within ten feet of the naquadria effector before falling to Surtr, but it was close enough.

The naquadria effector, triggered by the immense heat of Surtr’s sword — just as she and Jonas had programmed it — activated.

Even though SG-1’s backs were against the outcropping and they were facing away from the Surtr, they still had to close their eyes against the dazzlingly bright flash of light which filled the air. A blast wave of heat rolled through the valley, and Sam held her breath to avoid breathing in the super-heated air. But as soon as it came, the light dimmed, the heat dissipated, and Sam opened her eyes. Afterimages danced across her retinas, but otherwise she could see well enough. She tentatively inhaled, and while the air smelled of heat and ozone and wasn’t particularly pleasant, it didn’t sear her nasal passages.

“Listen,” O’Neill said.

The team members did as he suggested, but Sam frowned. “I don’t hear anything.”

“Exactly,” O’Neill said. “No giants shouting, no wind blowing…”

Sam and Jonas looked at each other and grinned.

“I think it worked.”

SG-1 got to their feet and looked out over the valley. The area surrounding the naquadria effector had become crystallized, but while the device itself lay on its side, it appeared undamaged. A dozen yards away lay a half-melted mass of silvery metal the size of a small truck, and Sam knew she was looking at the combined effectors of the Vanir and the Jotun, four hundred in all. The metallic ovoids hadn’t fared well: more than half were slagged, and Sam doubted the rest would ever function again.

Jonas started forward, but O’Neill grabbed hold of his arm to stop him.

“Don’t go over there, Jonas. The heat from the blast —”

“Is not an issue.”

The gentle voice came from behind them, and the team turned to see Odin approaching in his transport chair, the device gliding forward smoothly over the ground.

“Odin’s right,” Sam said. “The naquadria effector absorbed the bulk of the heat energy when it pulled Surtr inside. The ground will be hot, no question about it, but our boots should provide more than enough insulation to protect our feet. So as long as we don’t touch the ground with our bare skin…”

“So no bending over and kissing the hot crystals,” O’Neill said. “Got it.”

The five humans and the Asgard left the shelter of the outcropping and moved onto the blast area. The crystalline ground crunched beneath their boots, almost as if they were walking on snow, and while the heat was uncomfortable on their feet, true to Sam’s words, their boots protected them against being burned. They formed a circle around the naquadria effector and gazed down upon it.

“I have to admit, it’s a pretty cool piece of technology,” O’Neill said. “Kind of like those ghost traps they used in Ghostbusters.” He paused. “I love that movie.”

“It’s hard to believe such a small device could contain Surtr and all the power he stole,” Daniel said.

“Along with the mental patterns of four hundred distinct individuals,” Teal’c added.

“We have the naquadria cell to thank for that,” Sam said. “Its storage capacity is astounding, and with the naquadria energy fueling the effector…”

“I’m just glad the cell didn’t burn out the entire device,” Jonas said. “I was worried the power surge when it activated would prove too strong for the Asgard circuitry to handle.” He looked at Odin. “No offense.”

“None taken, Jonas Quinn. The technology of your power cell is most impressive. There is so much I could do with it…” Odin trailed off. His transport chair turned so that he could look at the slagged heap of effectors left behind when Surtr had been absorbed. “But it is too late now. The other effectors are ruined, and I cannot produce any more.”

“I know Yggdrasil’s systems have taken a pounding over the last couple days,” Sam said, “but we can help you repair them. And once your ship is running smoothly again —”

Odin’s chair turned back around so that the Asgard could face Sam. “You misunderstand, Samantha Carter. While my ship still contains both the raw materials and the capability of producing more effectors, I no longer have the strength to continue, let alone start over. An Earth phrase comes to mind: ‘The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.’ Though in truth, I am no longer certain that my spirit is willing. After centuries of attempting to perfect my holographic technology, I must now face the unavoidable conclusion that my research has come to a dead end.”

“You can’t say that!” Sam protested. “What you’ve achieved here on Valhalla is remarkable — you can create holographic forms that possess physical, tactile reality!”

“Yes, but what I have accomplished is far too limited to be of any practical use to my people. I can see that now.” The Asgard’s sigh was weak and breathy, as if it were a struggle to simply release the air from his lungs. “Perhaps it is a good thing that I am dying. And please do not tell me that I can use the regeneration pod to heal myself. The device has done all it can for me.”

“But you can clone a new body.”

Odin tried to shake his head, but he was too weak to do more than make it list briefly from one side to the other. “My genetic material has degraded too far to make cloning a new body for me possible. Even if the clone managed to grow to fruition, the body would survive only a brief time. No, this is the end for me.” Though his mouth wasn’t designed for it, the Asgard attempted a smile. “Ragnarok indeed.” He gazed down upon the naquadria effector. “If only there was something I could do for the Norsemen before I go. In many ways, I have come to think of them as my children over the centuries, and I would not abandon them to their fate… their wyrd, as the Norse call it.”

“We can take the naquadria effector back to Yggdrasil and download their mental patterns into the Well of Mimir,” Sam said.

“And what then?” Odin said. “Inside the Well, they would be doomed to live a shadowy half-existence, semi-conscious entities unable to interact with the physical world. Without periodic mental stimulation, their cognitive patterns will eventually begin to decay, and they will cease to exist.”

“We can contact the Asgard,” O’Neill said. “Maybe they’ll be able to do something to stabilize the Norsemen’s mental… thingies.”

Odin regarded O’Neill for a moment. “Perhaps, if my people were given access to the data I’ve accumulated over the centuries. Yes, it might work. And who knows? Perhaps one of my fellow Asgard will be inspired to carry on my research. Thank you, Colonel O’Neill. You have given me hope that this day might not be the end after all.”

“You speak too soon, Allfather.”

The voice came from nowhere, bitter and harsh, filled with hatred. Then the air above the naquadria effector shimmered and suddenly Surtr stood above the device, not as the flame giant he had become, but as the human-sized red-headed Viking warrior that SG-1 had first encountered.

Before any of them could react, Surtr stretched out his hands and bolts of electrical energy discharged from his fingertips to strike Sam and the others. They flew through the air and landed hard on the rocky ground. Sam felt a lance of pain at the base of her spine, and the impact drove the breath from her lungs. She immediately tried to rise, but her muscles tingled as if a million ants crawled throughout her body, and she couldn’t force her limbs to obey her commands. The ground here was hot, though not so much as closer to the naquadria effector. Her palms and the back of her head were in contact with the crystalline ground, but while the temperature was too hot to be comfortable, it was tolerable, which was good since she couldn’t really do anything about it.

Sam managed to turn her head slightly to check on her teammates and saw that all of them, Jonas included, suffered a similar paralysis. Teal’c had a hardier constitution than the rest of them, and his brow was furrowed, his jaw clenched as he fought to shake off the effects of Surtr’s energy attack. But in the end he was forced to give up and lay back like the rest of them. They were helpless, Sam thought, and all they could do was lay there and watch.

Surtr’s blast hadn’t affected Odin, perhaps because the Asgard’s transport chair possessed shield technology, or maybe because Surtr hadn’t wished to strike him. Whichever the case, Odin remained in his chair, hovering several feet above the ground, and Surtr walked over until he stood directly in front of the Asgard.

“I congratulate you on a most clever plan, Odin. It might’ve worked too, if it wasn’t for one thing. I’d already learned how to tap into your ship’s energy and use its power for my own ends, and once my essence was inside this new device, it was a simple matter for me to do the same to it. And what power in contains! This naquadria is far stronger than anything on your ship, Odin, and now that it is at my command, I truly am a god!”

Surtr turned his palms upward and electrical energy crackled as it leapt from one hand to another. His demonstration over, he lowered his hands, breaking the circuit.

“There’s nothing you can do to stop me now.” Surtr glanced at SG-1. “Nothing any of you can do. Not only do I have the full power of the device’s naquadria to draw on, I am no longer simply Surtr. I am a new being, formed from the combined essences of all the men whose souls you stole for your experiment, Odin. All the Jotun, all the Vanir are inside me now. We are one.”

Surtr reached out and gently touched his index finger to the surface of Odin’s chair. There was a brief flare of electrical energy, and then the chair dropped to the ground, its systems fried. The impact dislodged Odin, and the frail Asgard tumbled onto the crystalline ground. It was still hot, and Odin cried out in pain as his flesh began to burn.

Surtr crouched down next to Odin and gazed upon him with an expression that Sam couldn’t quite interpret. Anger was there, yes, but something else as well. Pity, maybe?

“To think I was once afraid of you,” Surtr said softly. “Odin One-Eye, Odin the All-Powerful. Look at you now. Without your machines, you are as helpless as a newborn babe. I could reach out and with the merest touch end your long existence.”

Surtr stretched out an index finger and slowly moved it toward Odin’s face, thin lines of electrical energy crackling across the flesh. But when the finger was within only a few inches of the Asgard, Surtr hesitated. He spoke a single word, but the voice wasn’t his. Rather, it belonged to someone else Sam had gotten to know well since first exiting the Stargate and setting foot upon this world: Baldr.

“No.”

In a flash, Sam understood why she’d seen warring emotions on Surtr’s face a moment ago. Surtr was no longer just Surtr. He was the combination of all the Norsemen, Jotun and Vanir alike, and while he might be the dominant personality, he wasn’t the only one. The pity she had seen on Surtr’s face hadn’t come from him, but rather from another persona within him. Baldr’s. And that gave her an idea.

“Baldr, I know you’re in there!” she called out. “And I know your men are there with you. You can’t stand by and watch as he kills Odin! You’ve fought Surtr for hundreds of years — fight him one last time!”

Surtr turned to glare at Sam, his eyes flashing with electrical energy, almost like a Goa’uld’s.

“Silence, woman! There is nothing you can…” He trailed off. His features smoothed as his expression went blank, a glazed look came into his eyes, and when he next spoke, it was with Baldr’s voice.

“What you are doing is wrong, Surtr. Perhaps Odin did not tell us the full truth when he took our spirits from our bodies and brought them to this world, but what he did, he did out of love for his people. Can any of us say that given the same set of circumstances we might not have done the same?”

Surtr’s voice answered.

“I care nothing for his motives! He posed as a god, stole our spirits, and forced us into centuries-long servitude for his own selfish purposes! He deserves to be punished for his crimes!”

Surtr’s face remained blank, but his hand was still dangerously close to Odin’s face, and energy still writhed across the surface of his index finger. He now slowly began moving that finger closer to Odin’s head. The Asgard was so weak that all he could do was lie on the hot crystals, gray skin turning black from the ground’s heat, and watch as his death approached.

Surtr’s left hand shot out and grabbed hold of his right by the wrist.

“You cannot do this! I will not allow it!”

Surtr’s blank expression became one of furious struggle as two separate personalities vied for control of his physical form — one attempting to move the last few inches necessary to touch Odin and deliver a killing burst of energy, the other fighting to pull the deadly hand away. Sam watched with fascination as the two Norseman’s inner war was reflected on Surtr’s features. They twisted, blurred, reformed. One minute they were Surtr’s features, the next Baldr’s, and the next an unsettling amalgamation of the two. Surtr’s entire body shook with the effort, and the air was filled with a soft whine as the battle began to take its toll on the naquadria effector’s systems, for in truth, that’s where the real fight was taking place, inside the machine.

The battle raged for several long moments, and the back-and-forth transformations between Surtr’s and Baldr’s aspects increased in speed until the face became a hazy featureless swirl. And then Surtr leaned his head back and bellowed his fury to the sky, the cry so loud that it echoed throughout the valley and caused the ground beneath them to tremble. When Surtr lowered his head, his features were once more those of the red-bearded giant, and he was grinning in triumph.

He fixed his gaze upon Sam.

“Very clever, woman. It almost worked, but my hatred of Odin and the slavery he forced us into has grown so strong over the centuries that it cannot be denied.” He looked down upon the weakened Asgard once more. “Time to die, Allfather.”

“Go ahead,” Odin whispered, his voice little more than exhalation of breath. “It is… no more than I deserve. I only hope my passing… helps you find some small measure of peace… my son.”

Surtr’s features softened, and for an instant Sam thought he might relent, but then his face hardened once more and he stretched his hand toward Odin’s face. Sam knew there was nothing more she could do. She wanted to close her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch, but she forced herself to look so that she might bear witness to Odin’s last moments.

But then Jonas spoke. “Surely you’re not going to simply kill him?”

Surtr paused, his finger a fraction of an inch from the smooth gray skin covering Odin’s temple. He turned to look at Jonas and scowled. “No more tricks,” he growled. “There is nothing you can say to stop me.”

“I know that,” Jonas said. “I’m not trying to stop you. At least, stop you from killing Odin. But I am trying to stop you from making a terrible mistake. Killing Odin would be a tragic waste of all the knowledge and experience he’s gained during the course of his unimaginably long life. When he dies, all that he knows will die with him. Unless…”

“Go on,” Surtr prompted.

“Odin absorbed the mental patterns of you and your fellow Norsemen when you were dying back on Earth so many years ago. You could do the same now. You could draw Odin’s essence from his body and take it into yourself, make it part of you. That way all of Odin’s knowledge — all of his secrets, where his true power lies — would become yours.”

Surtr turned to look at Odin once more, his expression now thoughtful. He kept his gaze on Odin as he asked, “Why would you suggest such a thing to me, your enemy?”

“Because I am a scientist and a scholar,” Jonas answered. “As much of a tragedy as Odin’s death will be, the loss of his knowledge would be an infinitely greater one. I would rather see that knowledge claimed by you than lost to the galaxy forever.”

Surtr continued looking upon Odin’s face, but he made no further move to touch the Asgard.

Jonas went on. “With the knowledge you’ll gain, you might be able to find a way to perfect Odin’s holographic technology, finally freeing yourself and your fellow Norsemen. And if that prospect doesn’t sway you, consider this. By absorbing Odin’s essence into yourself, you will be doing to him what he did to you so long ago. Let the punishment fit the crime: isn’t that the very definition of justice?”

Surtr looked at Odin for a moment longer, and then a slow smile spread across his face. “Yes, it is.”

He touched the tip of his finger to Odin’s head, and tendrils of electrical energy passed from his body to wreathe the Asgard. Odin’s form stiffened briefly then relaxed as a final sigh of air escaped his lungs. The energy cocooning Odin’s body faded, and Surtr withdrew his hand. The red-bearded giant regarded the Asgard’s corpse for a moment longer before rising to his feet. The expression on Surtr’s face was a strangely beatific one, as if he had found the peace he’d sought, and far more beside.

Sam was furious with Jonas. Yes, the loss of Odin’s knowledge would have been tragic, but to allow someone like Surtr to gain hold of it… Who knew what the Jotun commander would do now that he possessed not only the memories of an Asgard scientist, but also his spacecraft and all the advanced technology it contained? She couldn’t have imagined that Jonas would ever do anything so irresponsible, so short-sighted, so… A slow grin spread across her face as she realized why Jonas had done what he’d done. So brilliant.

As SG-1 watched, Surtr began to change. He retained his Viking armor and clothing, but he shrank in stature until he was no taller than an ordinary human. His arms and legs remained strong, though now they were normally proportioned. His skin took on a grayish cast, and his eyes — both of them whole and healthy — became a glistening black as they increased in size. His beard vanished, but his long hair remained, only now it was a silvery white. When he spoke, his voice was softer, gentler.

“I — we — didn’t understand.” A sigh. “But we do now.”

“Okay. What just happened?”

Sam turned her head to see O’Neill sitting up and gazing with a bemused expression at the new being standing before them. She realized then that she could move too, if only in a limited fashion, and she managed to sit up, as did Jonas, Daniel, and Teal’c. Her lower back protested, making her groan. She was definitely going to be feeling that tomorrow.

“It’s simple, sir,” she said. “When Surtr absorbed Odin’s mental pattern, Odin became part of all the essences within the naquadria effector, and he… I guess you could say he joined with them, bringing them all together and merging them into one personality. Just as Jonas knew he would.”

“Don’t give me too much credit, Sam. I’d hoped that once Odin’s mind — which was so much more powerful than that of a human — was inside the device he might be able to stop Surtr. I could never have imagined that this would occur.”

They all looked to the Asgard-human hybrid.

“What should we call you?” Sam asked.

“I have no name,” the being said. Its facial muscles were human enough to permit it to smile. “How could I? For I have just been born. I thank you all for what you have done here today. By aiding in my creation, being my midwives, as it were, you have saved not only Odin but all of the Vanir and the Jotun. And what’s more, you have given me my freedom.”

Sam frowned. “I don’t understand.”

“I see many things now that I didn’t before. The universe is far more vast and complex than even my people realize. I shall enjoy exploring it. Again, I thank you.”

The being held his arms out to his sides and looked up at the sky. His body became suffused with a golden glow that increased in intensity until it was too bright to look at, and SG-1 had to avert their gazes. When the light faded and they were able to turn back to look once more, they saw that the Asgard-human hybrid was gone.

For a long moment no one said anything, but O’Neill finally broke the silence.

“Now I’m really confused.”

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The five companions stood at the base of Valhalla’s Stargate, gathered around its DHD. The jury-rigged naquadria effector Sam and Jonas had made rested on the ground nearby. It was late in the afternoon, and the shadows were longer and darker.

The world seemed emptier now too, Sam thought. The battle with Surtr had burned out the holographic generators aboard Yggdrasil, and while the landscape was still dotted with trees, there were far fewer than before, and those that remained were scrawny and dead-looking. The ground was barren and rocky for the most part and appeared that way as far as the eye could see in all directions. Valhalla had been cold and gray before, but without Odin’s holographic touches it was downright desolate, and Sam was by no means sorry to be leaving.

“Are you sure you don’t want to take the naquadria effector back with you?” O’Neill asked Jonas. “The holographic technology might be useful in helping to defend Langara.”

“We have no need of the prototype cell,” Jonas said. “We have all the plans and the means for constructing more, should we wish to. And as for holographic technology…” He smiled ruefully. “My people are still struggling to overcome old prejudices and mistrust, and the last thing they need is technology that could bring espionage to an entirely new level.”

O’Neill grimaced. “Good point.”

“The effector is better off in the hands of Stargate Command,” Jonas said. “And you’re welcome to keep the prototype fuel cell. I just wish all the naquadria in it hadn’t been rendered inert.”

O’Neill shrugged. “That’s the way the fruit pie crumbles.” When everyone looked at him, he said, “So I like fruit pies better than cookies. You know what I mean.”

“The cell can still be useful,” Sam told Jonas, “especially with the schematics you sent me. Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He turned to O’Neill and Teal’c. “And thanks again for helping out with the Array. If you two hadn’t arrived when you did, it’s possible Langara’s Stargate would’ve been destroyed and my people would’ve become prisoners on their own world — and that’s the best-case scenario. The Array might well have decided to scour the planet clean of all life to protect itself. Langara owes you a debt of gratitude — again.”

Both O’Neill and Teal’c nodded once to acknowledge Jonas’s thanks.

“I’m still trying to understand just what happened to Odin — or whoever he became there at the end,” Daniel said.

After Odin’s death — or at least the death of his physical self — they’d taken his body back to Yggdrasil and placed it in a stasis field. Once SG-1 returned to Earth, they’d contact Thor and tell him what had happened on Valhalla, and he and the Asgard High Council would decide what to do with both the ship and the body of its former owner. But Sam had no idea how they were going to explain to the High Council exactly what had happened to Odin’s consciousness.

Teal’c gestured toward the naquadria effector. “Could Odin have retreated into the device?”

Sam shook her head. “Jonas and I gave it a thorough going-over once we got back to Yggdrasil. No data of any sort is stored within the device, let alone the mental pattern of a being that’s compromised of four hundred and one separate personalities merged into a single mind. It’s empty.”

“So is the Well of Mimir,” Jonas said. “We all saw that it was completely shut down and lifeless, but Sam and I checked the Well’s memory storage as well as its back-up systems. The holographic patterns for the landscape and the ship’s world-tree disguise were saved, but that was all. No data of any sort pertaining to the Vanir or Jotun remained. It’s almost as if they never existed.”

“Before Surtr’s reappearance, Odin told us he’d come to believe his research was a dead-end,” Teal’c said. “Perhaps Odin decided not to continue living as a holographic being and allowed the energy that formed his body to dissipate.”

“I suppose that’s possible,” Daniel allowed, “but a different thought occurs to me. Did any of you notice anything familiar about the way Odin vanished?”

“It almost looked like he ascended,” Sam said.

Daniel nodded. “Exactly what I was thinking.”

“But how could such a thing be possible?” Teal’c said. “As I understand the process, Daniel Jackson, only organic life may ascend.”

“That’s why the Asgard can’t ascend,” O’Neill added. “Their genetic material is too degraded. No matter how intelligent and spiritually evolved they are, their bodies aren’t capable of ascension.”

“I know,” Daniel said. “But I can’t help thinking… The universe is a big, mysterious place. Whatever sort of being Odin and the Norsemen became when they merged, I think it’s safe to say there’s never been another life form like it. What if there are other ways to ascend — and what if the new being Odin became found one of those ways?”

Daniel had been one of the Ascended for a time, and though he’d chosen to return to human form and had only minimal recollection of his time as an ascended being, Sam wondered if he wasn’t drawing on a portion of his buried knowledge now. Maybe on some level, deep down within his mind, Daniel knew exactly what had happened to the ancient Asgard scientist and the men who had fought at his command for centuries.

“If you’re right,” Sam said, “then Odin and the Norsemen did it. They found a way to avert Ragnarok.”

They all fell silent for several moments as each of them contemplated Sam’s words. As usual, it was O’Neill who finally broke the silence.

“So, it’s a happy ending then, right? Jonas’s world is safe, Odin and the Vikings have gone off to the real Valhalla — wherever that is — and we’ve got a busted naquadria effector and a broken-down Asgard ship to show for it.” He frowned. “Now that I’ve said it, it doesn’t sound so good.”

“It’s a lot better than some of our missions turn out,” Daniel said.

“Indeed,” Teal’c added.

“And Jonas has an even happier ending waiting for him when he gets home,” Sam said, grinning. When Jonas blushed, she couldn’t help laughing and walked over to give him a farewell hug. “Tell Kianna I said hi — and that she’s a lucky woman.”

O’Neill clapped him on the back. “Good working with you again, Jonas.”

“Same here, Colonel.”

Shaking his hand, Daniel smiled. “Don’t feel as if you can only call when your planet’s on the edge of annihilation.”

“And don’t be a stranger,” O’Neill said. “Come visit from time to time, and bring the little woman with you.’

“And perhaps some of that drink we had on your world as well,” Teal’c said. “What was it called again? Tarenta? I found it most satisfying.”

O’Neill made a face. “Now let’s not go crazy, Tee.”

Jonas dialed the address for Langara and with a last wave to his former comrades, he turned, walked up the stone steps to the gate, and passed through the event horizon. When he was gone, Sam stepped up to the DHD, shut down the wormhole, and began dialing Earth’s address. The inner ring of the Stargate spun around as the chevrons were encoded, and when the seventh was locked, energy kawooshed outward as a new wormhole opened, and then quickly settled into a stable event horizon. The doorway home was now open.

Teal’c bent down to pick up the burnt-out naquadria effector, and the four companions started up the stone steps toward the gate.

“Hey, Tee,” O’Neill said as they approached the event horizon. “How about when we get back, you and I go head to head in a no-holds-barred Pong tournament. What do you say?”

“There is no honor in Pong,” the Jaffa replied solemnly.

The four members of SG-1 stepped through the event horizon, and a moment later the wormhole closed, leaving Valhalla to whatever ghosts might yet linger.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Tim Waggoner’s novels include the Nekropolis and Lady Ruin series. He’s published over one hundred short stories, some of which are collected in Broken Shadows and All Too Surreal. His articles on writing have appeared in Writer’s Digest, Writers’ Journal and other publications. He teaches creative writing at Sinclair Community College in Dayton, Ohio, and is a faculty mentor in Seton Hill University’s Master of Fine Arts in Writing Popular Fiction program. Visit him on the web at www.timwaggoner.com.

THE ADVENTURES CONTINUE....

More STARGATE SG-1, STARGATE ATLANTIS and STARGATE UNIVERSE novels are available for your Kindle. Based on the hit TV series from MGM, the novels capture all the excitement and drama of the TV shows that we have come to know and love.

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Table of Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18