SG1-15 The Power Behind the Throne by Steven Savile Page B

power to free your people is yours, all you have to do is join me.”
    Were these the words he most longed to hear?
    If they were, what did that say about him?
    Was this the promise that would make him whole once more?
    If it was, what did that say about the man he had become?
    He thought about it for a moment. It wasn’t. The creature had read him wrong. He had no desire to stand beside Apophis or any of his kind. It had never been about power. It was always about peace. He wanted freedom for his people but not at any cost.
    Above them, the sky caught fire again.
    Teal’c grasped the creature tighter around the shoulders and refused to let it so much as wriggle as he carried it down the treacherous descent. The heat of the hellish surface rose up to engulf them. Teal’c welcomed it as though it might burn away the doubt that plagued him.
    But deep within, Teal’c felt the discomfort of his symbiote. The larva was in turmoil, drawn by the Mujina’s fork-tongued promise. Was it too hearing what the creature wanted it to hear? Was it being fed dreams of dominion? The symbiote’s agitation inevitably transferred itself to Teal’c. He refused to believe the creature’s words reflected his own desire; the possibility undermined the balance he had fought so hard to achieve. He felt his heart beating against his chest, the
dub dub-dub
becoming erratic as a renewed rush of dread rose up inside him.
    Teal’c turned his immense will inward, breathing deeply as he sought to master the rhythms of his own flesh. His world boiled down to a single sound: the beating of his heart. He inhaled, held the breath, and then let it leak between his lips, again and again, and with each breath the tripping of his heart slowed. He erected barriers in his mind, fencing off the doubts that plagued him behind sheer indomitable willpower.
    The creature’s face belonged to the System Lord, as did the voice, but the hands did not. Apophis’ hands were delicate and fine-boned, the skin soft and supple, while the backs of Mujina’s hands were marked with fine white scars and the palms bore rough calluses. It seemed that the creature’s guise did not stretch as far as the hands, though perhaps with time the subsumption would become complete. As it was, the flaws were enough to weaken the temptation of the creature’s impossible promise.
    Still, the Mujina’s insidious whispers touched his mind, promising forgiveness over and over again.
    Teal’c looked at it squirming in his grasp and said simply: “You are not Apophis. Your forgiveness is worthless to me because I have no need of it. My soul is clean. Now leave my mind or I shall be forced to end your life to be free of you,” his voice was soft, the threat implicit. The gentle tone made his message all the more chilling.
    The wretched creature looked up at him, a desperate longing in its pupilless eyes as it shuffled forward, dragging its feet through the red dust scattered thinly across the rocks, and then he was alone. Teal’c sensed the Mujina physically withdraw from his mind. The silence was sudden and shocking — and the emptiness left behind dizzying. A last lingering urge to fight welled up within him, a need to strike out, but he crushed it.
    The Mujina led them on a different path. It was narrow and precarious as it clung to the side of the huge hill, but even at its steepest the gradient was comfortably walkable even in the clumsy boots of the evac suit.
    Something troubled Teal’c.
    It was all too easy, this search and rescue. He looked at the others. Only O’Neill seemed tense. Teal’c had served long enough to know that if the Goa’uld had a foothold on this planet and were aware of the Mujina’s unique gifts — and their true potential — they would not allow the Tau’ri to leave with their treasure. He did not believe that the Tok’ra operative had imprisoned the creature in such a cruel manner, which meant the creature had been left there to be found. And they had