The Huntress - part one
The Huntress - part one
by Amy Robinson
Category: Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drama, Future Story, Hurt/Comfort, POV, Series, Thoughts, Other
Season: future Season
Pairing: other pairing
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: adult themes, character death, minor character death, minor language, violence
Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. I have written this story for entertainment purposes only and no money whatsoever has exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author(s).
Archived on: 03/01/04
The Huntress
I'd start at the beginning but my mind is in overdrive towards the future. I wish I'd thought to tie my hair back before we left because now I'm left trying to handle the tangled curls with nothing but a rag, but as I said, I'm a little preoccupied. I'm part of a small team of Tok'Ra that have been dispatched on a search and rescue mission into a particularly nasty goa'uld's territory.
Forgive me for not introducing myself - I am the host of Selmak, known to the others of my kind, by folly and by my nature, as the 'Huntress'. For fifty years I've hunted as a Tok'Ra - I hope I have aged gracefully - seeking my revenge on the goa'uld who killed my family.
I've often thought of myself as a breed of vampyre, hidden underground whenever I am not playing the role of assassin. Selmak often laughs at me for such obscure fantasies but I am content none-the-less, as content as I am able to be.
Selmak does her best to quell my bloodlust but I'm afraid that even her ancient wisdom can't undertake such a task. Whatever company I keep, whatever project I'm given, always, always I am broken inside by the memories of those whom I'd so wholly failed to save. A survivor of the slaughter among many survivors of the same kind.
I digress however, I was telling you about our daring rescue into the goa'uld palace containing Hathor. You thought she was dead? Didn't we all? But that bitch is a regular Phoenix, rising from the ashes we thought had been made of her. I'll tell you all about that later.
Our operatives heard rumours, whispers of an ancient queen rising to power, seducing vast armies of Jaffa to her barren planet. Hathor was soon discovered and infiltrated a few short years ago by three brave Tok'Ra - in the knowledge of what had befallen previous operatives caught by 'our beloved Queen.'
Upon hearing that Shaka'ar, Myal and Ra'oul were almost certain to be discovered our band set out to save them, knowing that they could not escape on their own and we needed the information they had obtained from their surveillance. These three, though more than able scholars, were not the stuff of warriors, in fact I could go so far as to say they were wimps.
Stealthily taking point along they dingy stone corridors, I quickly came upon the rendezvous point. At last, as we waited in the shadows, the others joined us and the relief was exquisite - I hate wasted journeys - as we bade them 'follow us.' I was surprised to find that Myal - host of Remaed - stopped me, his slender fingers gripping my leatherbound wrist. "O'Neill's here," he whispered. "He's alive."
The floor seemed to drop out from under me as the news hit my stomach like a brick and Selmak instantly took over, I could hear her words through me. "You're sure it's him?" she asked.
"Yes, he is captive on the floor below us."
"Take me there." She ordered before turning to the others, "I'll retrieve O'Neill and meet you at the Tel-Tak."
"But you won't make it out alone." Fretted Shaka'ar, fiddling insessantly with a length of frayed cord on her dress.
I surged upwards, taking control again, "I'm the Huntress, aren't I?" I reassured her, squeezing her arm and looking to Armand, "If we're not back within an hour of you, go without us."
I brooked no argument - and received none - so we went our separate ways; they to safety, Ryal and I deeper into danger. "What sort of state's he in?" I asked and it was Ramaed who answered.
"We did not see much, only that he was being escorted to the cell in chains and he was able to walk unassisted."
"How long ago was this?"
"Only yesterday. I'm positive he still lives." He answered, with a vain hope to reassure Selmak and I.
All the while I listened intently for the fateful foot falls of patrolling Jaffa, always with one hand on my zat. I carried on me and arraignment of weaponry; the zat, an effective disabler of Jaffa, was secured on my hip. A ribbon device, which I rarely use save for it's shield and, on occasion, it's explosive power, concealed itself in a tan pouch at my front. And last, my signature weapon, my blades. Hooked into my boots were two ninja knives - weapons I love dearly - and my belt was hung with ten throwing knives (mostly used to bypass the goa'uld personal shield for as we know the deflective capability of the shield is directly proportional to the kinetic energy directed at it) and last my beautiful glittering treasure of a weapon - my double edged, oh so sleek, sword. It's sheath was bound lovingly to a hand made dark leather corset which, though comfortable through use, made far too much of my cleavage for my liking but this too could be turned to an advantage by housing my breast dagger.
As you may have extracted from this description, I am a well armed person, others may have extracted that I'm a walking armoury, but in my line of work this is essential. The others of my kind do not feel the need to carry more than a zat gun but then they do not specialise as I do. Mine is an art - the art of killing goa'uld and their Jaffa. It makes me feel secure that I have the ability to defend myself.
We came upon a staircase, sparsely lit by a row of crude torches bracketed on the wall, and I followed close on Myal's heels, annoyed that he wouldn't move faster. I could feel Selmak's eagerness strongly as her former host had been very fond of Colonel O'Neill.
My heart thumped hard in my chest as Myal gestured for me to halt and be silent for beyong the next turn lay O'Neill's prison and his two prison guards. I slid my zat from it's holster, pulling my guide behind me before swinging around and annihilating, what I considered to be, the two sitting ducks, careful only to hit each twice for fear that one held the key to the archaic lock.
The big ugly one had it (Though this describes most Jaffa) and I took it without a struggle from his lifeless corpse before making the bodies vanish forever. My hands trembled as I slid the key into it's keyhole, turning it easily. How can I describe my terror over what I might find within?
The door was heavy on it's hinges but together Myal and I forced it open. The room was dark and starkly oppressive, the only light was that which spilled in from the corridor. "Get a torch." I whispered, afraid to break the silence too abruptly. I couldn't see a thing in the gloom but I knew someone was there. I could hear faint breathing.
Myal soon returned, illuminating the tiny room more with every step. I t occurred to me that this place was less of a cell than a dungeon; the walls themselves were dripping with damp and staligtites hung eerily from the ceiling.
In the flicker of the firelight my gaze was drawn to a figure hunched in the far corner, though 'far' was a figurative term considering that it it was only a scant few metres from the entrance. Clothed in what used to be finery though was now only ripped scraps fit to be burnt I could still tell it was Jack - I knew in my heart that it was Jack.
Approaching slowly, as though he were a dangerous animal, I knelt beside him, loathe to startle or frighten him in an way if it could be prevented. "Colonel O'Neill?" I spoke gently, my hand soft on his shoulder.
I couldn't hide my shock when he lifted his head to gaze at me for in the place of the old man I had envisioned him to now be there was instead the same vital stature that he had possessed over fifty years ago. A swift explanation implanted itself in my mind - he had been made a host. I was sure that he was no longer a goa'uld but the imprint on him was strong, fresh and I wondered if the death of his symbiote had prompted Hathor to remove him to this dismal solitary confinement.
"Colonel, we've come to get you out of here." Again Selmak spoke through me, I hoped that her voice didn't put him in fear of us (lest he think us goa'uld) but I couldn't bring myself to do it myself, such is the drawback of human emotion and conscience. O'Neill didn't move, there was no recognition in his eyes, he simply stared. "We must leave now." She insisted.
I thought he understood for he rose, somewhat unsteadily, to his feet, arms outstretched. It was only now that I realised that he was bound in crude chains. I thought momentarily on the problem. The keys must have been on the other Jaffa guard. "Trust me and don't move." I ordered, lifting his arms until the chains were tight, running the space of a foot between his wrists and running down to join the restraints round his ankles. "Close your eyes." He listened to and obeyed my quiet command.
Focussing my mind to clarity I reached behind my head and grasped the grip of my sword, drawing it swoftly over and through the three lengths of chain in turn before returning it to it's sheath. All of my weapons are forged from the stargate material, naqadah, which renders them almost indestructable.
I studied my handywork and, though his limbs were now free, the links of chain were too long and would make an awful racket when stealth was an issue. I knelt on the stone floor, removing two knives from my belt. I placed the tip of one blade between one of the links and brought the handle of the other upon it, like a hammer, with as much force as I could muster - shattering the, now seemingly fragile, constraints.
Jack quietly wrapped the remaining chain, which hung from his wrist, around his fist, ready to fight though I doubted he could if he tried to do such. Nodding to myself, I led our small party out into the corridor, scanning for danger both ways before heading back in the direction we came.
Undoing the lace that held the pouch at my front closed I reached in and withdrew the Ribbon device, "Myal, can you use one of these?" I asked, handing it back to him as I fingered my zat gun.
"I can." He whispered, slipping the moulded gold hand weapon onto his right hand. "If needs must."
"They do." I confirmed, "You're our shield." Myal nodded but it was reluctant and I knew that he hated, as many did, to use the weapon that the goa'uld used with no conscience for the victim.
We pressed on up the stairwell and into the corridor which would eventually stretch up another level still, joing an adjacent tunnel out of this forboding place. Colonel O'Neill followed faithfully but, by the blankness of his eyes, I wouldn't be surprised if he thought it all a waking dream.
We met with little resistance, disposing of only a few Jaffa who haplessly stumbled upon us. I thought we were foot loose and fancy free with only fifty metres to freedom but suddenly a figure blocked the exit. I had no desire to go head to head with Hathor but I could see the dark forest behind her and was determined to deliver my comrades to safety. "Myal." I called back over my shoulder, catching his nod out of the corner of my eye.
He raised his arm, activating the shield around us. "Where are you going so soon?" Hathor asked mockingly, "We had so hoped you would stay to entertain us."
"Well you know I'd love to but I have to meet someone and I'd hate to be late." I smiled as falsely as she, "Don't make me kill you..."
Her eyes glowed with distaste, "We are the mother of the pharoahs, we are a goddess and gods cannot be killed."
"No but overdressed ego maniacs can." I laughed, whipping out one of my throwing knives and firing it at her effortlessly. She forced it back of course, as I'd known she would but I fired my zat. You see the problem with the Ribbon device is that it can only perform one function at a time meaning that whilst her attention was focussed on deflecting my knife she'd had to momentarily drop her shield.
The ball of electricity coarsed into her body and she fell to one knee, fury on her face. I smiled beautifically and fired again, the fatal shot, before she could recover. I moved towards her, leaving my companions behind as I stood over the former goddess. "Au Revoir, my queen." I whispered bitingly, watching her melt into the stone floor under my fire. "Let's go. We haven't got much time."
~You realise that her Jaffa will continue on without proof of her death.~ Selmak spoke in my mind as we made our way through the moonlit forest at a dead run.
*But had they found the body they would have put her in the sarcophagus and brought her back. * I replied, keeping a steadying hand on Jack. *And as long as they think she's still alive they won't switch allegiences.*
~I thought I was supposed to be the wise one.~ she chuckled and I couldn't help but smile.
Jack stumbled over the terrain, his body seemingly at odds with itself after his long servitude in the control of whatever goa'uld had possessed him. I held him up as best I could but our pace was lessoning with every step. I cursed that we wouldn't make it in time before the others left the planet.
"Change of plan, guys." I stopped, glancing around. "We're not going to make it on time - we have to get to the Stargate."
Myal's eyes grew wide, "But it'll be heavily guarded by now."
"Hopefully we'll make it there before the Jaffa." I was making it up as I went along but it's a plan so I'm going with it. "It's only half a kilometre away."
We changed direction and made our way as quickly a possible to the 'gate. It didn't take long and we hovered at the edge of the clearing, taking stock of the situation. There were only two Jaffa that I could see and I decided to take them out, which would surely draw out an ambush if there was anyone lying in wait. "Stay here." I whispered, "Use the shield at all times. I'll signal you when it's safe."
I crept through the trees until I was on the opposite side of the grove, away from Myal and O'Neill lest my attack give their position away. In place just left of the back of the Stargate, I levelled my Zat at the unsuspecting guards and fired. Unfortunately, upon seeing his comrade fall dead beside him, the second fired off a few staff weapon bolts before I could aim around the 'gate and hit him too.
Hissing through my teeth, my hand clamped over the burn on my shoulder, where the staff blast had found it's target, and tears of pain sprang to my eyes. Lucky for me there was no more enemy fire and, probably, no ambush. I pushed forward into the clearing and dialled the seven symbols required for Bakarai and hit the orange dome in the centre of the DHD (dial home device). The familiar wave of blue burst from the Stargate before settling back into the event horizon and, happy that the coast was clear, I placed my fingers to my lips and gave a loud whistle.
They ran towards me, Myal's hand outstretched whilst he maintained the forceshield. "You're hurt." He admonished upon reaching me, the colonel at his side.
"It's fine - go. Move it!" I ordered, following them up the stone steps, through the 'gate and to blessed safety.
It was blazing midday on Bakarai, an inhabitable moon in orbit of a gas giant, where I had hidden a cargo ship for escapes such as this. Not a hundred yards from the Stargate we reached a grassy knowle and halted. "What?" asked Myal, obviously confused.
I smiled - the ship was cloaked. "Open sesame." I ordered and the entrance appeared as if by magic. "Our ride home, fellas."
I marched straight in and seated myself at the helm, eager to take off in case we were followed. After ensuring that my guests were sitting comfortably, I sealed the door and ignited the engines, easing the ship into the air and out of the atmosphere.
Deciding that it was probably a good idea to check in with the others, I opened a secure communication channel. "Huntress to Armand, come in."
There was a brief crackle of static before a voice responded. "Thank god you're alive." His picture wavered on the viewscreen.
"You suspected otherwise?" I asked, flinching as I sat back in my chair and aggravated my wound.
"You okay?" Armand asked, concern lining his face. I was touched.
"Staff weapon blast." I grimaced, "Don't worry, I've got a healing device on board." I reassured him before letting an evil grin grace my lips. "Race you home." I challenged.
"You're on." He growled playfully, "See you in a few days, Hunt."
The connection was cut and I sat simply smiling. A pretty successful mission by all accounts. Here endeth the first lesson...
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Notes: do not ask me where the hell this story reared it's not so ugly head from but here it is. 'The huntress' is a little different to my usual style of writing but I thought I'd give it try.
If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Amy Robinson
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