Heart of Gold
Chapter II: Mission

Two days on a small spaceship with a creature in your brain gives you ample opportunity to adjust to its—her presence. She insisted that her given name was too long and she preferred to go by Chrys to her hosts and few close friends. After that, she was all business.

For the remainder of this mission, she explained, we would go by my last name since it was rather superfluous now but I would respond to it while still adjusting to the life of a spy. Then she recalled why we were going. A local interstellar gang had accrued a few more Ha'tak motherships than the minor Goa'uld they'd served. They consequently decided they would bully the Goa'uld into giving them whatever they wanted. The Goa'uld was embarrassed enough not to call on the system lords. Chrys would have loved the situation if nothing else had happened, but it had. The gang demanded more and more of Marinduque until he demanded more and more of the four planets he ruled, crushing the people into poverty and tearing their families and villages apart.

Even before leaving, Chrys knew Sedesh didn't have long to live, but they had hoped to complete one more mission together. Part way through, Chrys realized he needed a new host quickly and barely received news before he left that the lead gang member, Qadir, had realized he was a spy.
I gazed out at the approaching planet from the Tel'tak's pilot chair, in control of my own body for one of the last times before the end of the mission. I couldn't believe that now, when I finally embarked on the adventure I'd always wanted, I'd be so scared. Any of the Mirach-Lucian Alliance who found out we were spies would kill us. No one had ever wanted to kill me before; it was a frightening proposition. It seemed that all of a sudden, I was constantly under the threat of death, first from AIDS and PML and now from the Alliance.

And the Goa'uld, of course. But don't worry. I've only ever lost one host to an enemy, and that was nearly four centuries ago.

His thought seemed unfinished, and as I thought about him, I realized why. You're not really as confident as you say you are.

No. Each new enemy has ample opportunity to kill me and you. We may die in the next few days and forfeit every chance we had of saving those people and preventing an opportunity for a united Goa'uld front. But we can't be intimidated; half the battle is between us and our expectations of them. We can't afford to either overestimate them—and defeat ourselves—or underestimate them—and hand them ways to defeat us.

Wow. So how do I defeat them in my mind? I wondered, trying to stop marveling at the beauty of space and focus on the task.

Any time you catch yourself feeling afraid or intimidated or losing confidence, find a reason to laugh at them or to reassure yourself that you are better than they are.

If that's what you do, you must feel afraid pretty often. It scared me even more to know that I was right.

* * *

Turquoise choker wrapped twice around a wrist and secured, Chrys gathered all the supplies we might need and loaded them into a supply vest that completely covered the tank top I wore. Then, regretfully, she zatted her former host once, letting the blue tendrils of engineered electricity overload his vacant nervous system. Returning the zat to a leg holster, she glanced around the room one more time to make sure we had left nothing personal to be found on the ship, just a few scraps of litter from stored food and a couple cases of zat'nikatels and naquadah stolen from other Goa'uld.

Simultaneously, she swept her mind clean of any personal clutter. Sedesh's body was now nothing more than a tool. She was human, and I didn't exist. A long time silent supporter of the Mirach-Lucian Alliance, she had come to finally serve Qadir. It was a thin mental façade, thin enough to reassure me that it was fiction, but it could almost pass a za'tarc test and definitely any regular lie detector test.

Finally ready, Chrys threw the corpse over a shoulder and dashed out the Tel'tak's exit. She had landed near the gate leading into the Alliance's central courtyard, so after a short dash during which she shoved past the gate's guards, she arrived where she could make the scene she wanted. As she stopped, she hauled the body from her shoulder, flinging it to the ground, drew the zat'nikatel, and shot it a second time.

Then she looked up. The milling gang members and cronies, their slaves, servants, and workers, and anyone else in the main square stopped their business at the sound of weapons fire and gazed over, silent. Chrys kept her voice within human tones as she cried, "I found this man trying to give information to Marinduque! This is how we treat shol'vah, Sedesh!" She zatted him a third time, and the body disintegrated from sight.

Weapon in hand, she slowly looked around the crowd, picking out familiar faces on the way. Aziz and Jabbar, the Alliance's second most powerful members, who took turns executing raids, stood together on the stairs leading into the command palace. Two other Alliance thugs, Dasa and Wafai, stood near carts of plunder, which they had been assessing for practical and bartering value. On the edge of the crowd, caught as she skittered between two buildings, stood a slave woman named Najwa.

Good. Nearly everyone is here. Chrys slowly reholstered her weapon. As she did, she heard soft footsteps on the stone behind her and resisted the urge to duck. Even so, she took the blow on the ear and rolled with it, frustrating her own balance on the way to make it look less controlled. Looking up from the ground, she was pleased to see Aziz's sturdy, unkempt form.
The man's gruff voice held only a s light accent from his native dialect of Goa'uld. "It is not your place to decide judgement. We were tracking him, Hashak!"

"And what did that get you?" Chrys demanded, pulling herself to her feet. "He arrived at his destination by Stargate, not by Tel'tak. I heard him reporting to Marinduque."

Aziz studied her for a moment then motioned to the crowd…

* * *

I lay still on the room's cushions, trying my best to ignore the new cuts and deep bruises marking my skin and screaming at the slightest budge. It was almost pleasant, and I almost asleep, when I heard a faint whisper somewhere near my head.

Suddenly, Chrys's consciousness surged forward in my mind, wedging between my thoughts and muscle control. Her human-sounding voice barely tickled the room's silence. "Do you intend to kill me?"

"You killed him," an equally quiet female voice replied, strained by tears.

"I suppose that distresses you," she continued, venturing to a conversational volume. "Did you love him?"

"Like no other." We felt the tip of something hard rest against the top of my head. At point blank, it wouldn't have to be a laser weapon to ensure our deaths. If the erratic motion on my head meant anything, though, she was trembling.

Chrys continued calmly, as though nothing had changed. "Then I regret I must inform you that Sedesh died two days ago from natural causes. I obtained his permission to use his body here."

"He trusted you?"

"With his life, and I trusted him with mine."

The weapon against my head had begun to relent, but the force returned quickly. "Then how could you shoot him like that?"

"By remembering that he was gone and that any means to restore his life would have corrupted him." As she spoke, Chrys leaned my head back to look up at the woman, now letting the zat'nikatel's tip rest against my forehead. She recognized the woman as the slave from whom she had received much information during her last stay. "You wouldn't want that, either."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

Chrys berated herself for forgetting the slave's limited life experience. "I forgot how much you don't know, Najwa."

Uncertainty grew across her face, framed by the beige, embroidered headscarf she wore. Despite her token of modesty, her rich, brown dress revealed more than enough skin on her upper body to keep her comfortable in the desert heat.

A few of Chrys's memories of her came to mind, launching ripples of shock through me. You had an affair with her?

Naturally not. One or both parties must be violating a commitment for it to be an affair. Qadir sent Najwa to me for several purposes.

And you took advantage of her?

Chrys's mind scrambled to the defensive, aborting her usual cockiness for the moment. I spent time with her, respecting her as I would anyone else, and I did nothing without her and Sedesh's full consent. She closed my eyes, devoting her full attention to me. I will do nothing that discomforts you unless it is absolutely crucial to the mission. Even if I do, you have the option of overriding my control.

I do?

My control is not absolute. If your mind is more focused than mine, you can block my control. Just don't tell the other hosts. You're not supposed to know. Chrys smiled slightly, reflecting on her fondness for me, and I relaxed. She trusted me innately, as a necessity of both her existence and the success of the mission. I had to do the same, and she would do all she could to help.

Chrys opened her eyes again, staring up at the slave and letting the smile fade from her lips. "Najwa, we need to talk."

Her narrow head began shaking, sending her curly, black hair flying with the scarf's confines. "You must swear to speak only the truth."

"I swear," Chrys replied, secure in her ability to manipulate words to convey a false impression without lying.

Najwa finally circled around to stand beside us, zat'nikatel still trained, and Chrys sat up to watch her. The slave's voice remained soft. "Why are you here?"

"To finish the assignment. The Alliance must be defeated if we are to vanquish the Goa'uld."

"Who plans to defeat the Goa'uld?" she wondered, exited.

"I speak only the truth. Sedesh and I loved you, Najwa, but I will never tell you. I trust you with my life here, but the less you know of us, the better you can aid us."

Her eyes narrowed. "Not good enough."

"Too bad."

The zat'nikatel in her hand fired.

* * *

It was still dark when I awoke, which I took to be a good sign. The restraints that kept me from moving, however, I took as a bad sign. My eyes opened to reveal the same room lit by soft candlelight, which silhouetted Najwa and revealed rope tight on my ankles and wrists, pinning my limbs to corners of the couch bed, as well as a metal vest with a blue oval of light.

"It's a trinket I found here," Najwa explained. "It reveals whether one is basically good or basically evil. I've never before seen it flicker when set on a person."

My heart sank as Chrys's memories placed it: a Tollan symbiote indicator. She would know when Chrys spoke. I faced her again. "What do you want?"

"Answers. No lies. No evasions." Her every motion rang of desperation as she paced beside the couch. "How do you know me?"

"No lies?" My mind searched frantically, but Chrys still had not awoken. "I barely remember you. Sedesh's memories got transferred to me. That's why I'm here—"

"No evasions!" she shouted. "How do you remember me?"

My first day of adventure ended in lonely interrogation. A pair of tears escaped my eyes. "I… He… Sedesh wasn't…" I closed my eyes in frustration. "I can't. If you and the Alliance don't kill me, they could do worse. Please. This was the only chance I had to live. I still need it."

"Need what?"

"A trade. My life for Sedesh's. Wasn't my choice."

She glanced at the indicator, which still glowed solid blue. "You're not a Goa'uld, are you?"

"No. No… Never heard of the Goa'uld until two days ago. Never know all this was out here. Please, Najwa, trust us. She loves you. And I won't hurt—"

Chryson took control moments after awakening, accidentally lighting my eyes in her rush. The indicator turned red, and my voice suddenly stopped.

Thank goodness you're okay! I need your help.

When in doubt, say nothing, she retorted tartly, angry.

Najwa stared, zat'nikatel ready. "So you are Goa'uld."

Chrys kept her voice soft but still Goa'uld-esque to further differentiate herself from me. "And if I were? Physical species does not automatically determine philosophy. I still endeavor to free you and your people from both your oppressors."

"And replace them?"

"I have too much work to do to bother remaining on these planets," she answered condescendingly. "I will leave as soon as I finish."

"I don't believe you. All Goa'uld are the same."

"It's that kind of thinking that leaves you vulnerable to surprises and mistakes. You must treat each foe as an individual or you will fill in his peculiar weaknesses with your own assumptions."

Najwa ignored her. "How do you know me, Goa'uld?"

Chrys rolled her eyes, nearly exasperated. "Whether or not you care to face it, you already know me. Sedesh was my last host. We took his name as ours for his last mission, but it was me you spoke to. I hope I may again gain your trust."

As she listened to and thought about what Chrys said, Najwa bent over the floor, looking as though she might become ill. After a couple minutes, she looked up. "Do you have any proof?"

"Only in memories." She glanced around the room then returned her gaze to Najwa's eyes. "Qadir assigned us here the last time. He waited until after I had crushed Marinduque's resistance before he sent you in to me as a reward. You looked so uncomfortable, and I could tell you were bothered by Sedesh's age. So we had a relaxing evening. Dinner. Talk. Games, even. It was such a nice change from the usual routine, for both of us, I think. After a few nights like that, I told you why I was there, and you began gathering information for me from your associates. I almost had enough when Sedesh became too weak for me to sustain, and I left to find a new host."

Tears raced down her face as she listened, but the zat'nikatel wavered less and less. Finally, she cried, "Sedesh was not a Goa'uld!" and pushed the trigger.

The blue arc of electricity couldn't miss.

* * *

I awoke first again and panicked when I realized we weren't in the same room. We were tied to the same chair but now sat in the middle of the market square where Chrys had made her entrance scene. Qadir stared down at me from only three feet away, his ugly, bulging face scrunched together in concentration. "The host awakes!" he announced to the crowd. A terrible feeling started to gather in my stomach. Then the leader leaned down to my face, close enough that I could smell his foul breath. As he spoke, he ran a hand through my hair then rested it on my shoulder. "I apologize for what's been done to you. I'm sorry we can't free you, but you can speak of the Goa'uld's atrocities now until we punish it."

I shivered and said nothing.

The man squatted down beside me, absently running his hand down my thigh. "What's your name?" he cooed.

Stifling a whimper of frustration, I said nothing.

"We will punish your captor, but before it awakes, I'll have your name."

"Cors," I whispered, glad Chrys had chosen an extremely memorable name.

"Cors," he repeated. "Then what is its name?"

"I… I don't know. He doesn’t go by a single name."

He nodded. "How long has it been since you were taken from your village?"

I was about to answer with the truth until I caught Najwa's eyes in the crowd. Two days ago, then I left Earth, would reveal a connection between Sedesh and me and bestow his disfavor on us now. I had to take the question in a different light. I hadn't really been back to my hometown, however, since I left for college. "Three years."

He reached a hand up to caress my cheek, and I grew more tense. "I am so sorry we must end your life so young. It is such a waste of a well-kept form. But we must vanquish your captor."

My eyes widened with the realization that they would kill me, and I could do nothing. Chryson! I screamed in my head. Wake up! Do something!

To my surprise, she awoke and this time left me with control. What has transpired?

They're going to kill us!

I know that.

Before I could relate anything else, Qadir's chubby, sweaty hand grabbed my chin and moved my head so he could look into my eyes. "I know you're in there, slave keeper. Speak with us or prolong your suffering."

Be brave, Chrys cautioned. This may get bad, but I won't let them kill you. Then she told me what to say.

I finally looked up into Qadir's almost black eyes, surprising him enough that he checked the Tollan indicator. "He says it is beneath him to speak with you directly, that your diversion from abolishing Marinduque's power disgusts him."

"Coward!" the fat leader roared. "Speak for yourself and we will not hurt your host!"

Chrys's subsequent retort bothered me, and she recommended that I let it. "He says he doesn't care when there are so many potential hosts nearby." More tears squeezed from my eyes, and the whole crowd retreated a step.

He picked up a metal ring from the ground that looked somewhat like a spring-form pan only longer and with a smaller radius, and locked it around my neck, now holding my head as still as my other extremities. "Cors, I must ask you to put your captor in control."

Thank you, Jenn. You did well, Chrys commended as she took control. I relaxed, glad not to face the fear anymore. The Tok'ra began by laughing heartily, aloud so as to frustrate the Alliance. "You think a brace can keep me in place? Now I have no choice but to kill this host!" Her unnatural voice echoed through the square, silencing the crowd. She continued laughing for a full thirty seconds before looking back at Qadir. "You humans have an odd way of treating allies."

"You are not our ally!" he roared back. "Who do you serve?"

"Myself, same as anyone else on this planet." She grinned. "So might there be something I could do for you to barter for my freedom?"

He spit on the ground my feet. "Why have you come?"

Chrys glared at him, but her only other response was to spit at him.

Wiping the saliva from his chin, Qadir stood up so that he towered over us. "You are of no use to us; you will die slowly to pay for those you've caused to suffer." He turned his back and reached toward a nearby rack of pain sticks.

To quote a pirate, "that was the opportune moment."

Goa'uld are stronger than humans by, like, a lot. So are Tok'ra. They just don't usually find occasion to demonstrate it. Chrys did. She strained my muscles quickly and, though the ropes dug into my skin, managed to loosen or break them all.

Hearing the ample noise, Qadir spun, bringing the stick to bear even as the crowd drew weapons. Chrys ducked the pain-inducing device, snagged a device from Qadir's vest pocket, and activated it, dropping it to the red clay of the ground. Then she buried my face in the filth of his clothes, holding her breath to avoid the fumes of spent alcohol and tobacco. With a bright flash of light that we barely saw, the square fell silent as its occupants fell, stunned.

Chrys grabbed Qadir's vest to keep him from falling.

* * *

Qadir and his cronies had done nothing to the cargo ship we'd arrived in; consequently, all the great Tau'ri food Chrys and Sedesh and previously bartered from Vinnet had been left untouched, available for a time such as this. Chrys tapped the Goa'uld shield with a pinky, saving the other fingers of my left hand for clinging to the Hershey bar. She knew that Qadir, trapped though he was on the other side, couldn't hear only because he hadn't yet awoken. His metabolism was too slow to allow him to recover quickly.

Ignoring him, she opened the door to the flight deck and sauntered to the pilot's chair, setting her feet on the Tel'tak version of a dashboard.

"What do you want with me?" whispered a newly-awakened Najwa from where she was bound tightly to the copilot's seat.

"Little." Chrys kept her voice Goa'uld-like and didn't bother to glance at Najwa as she at the chocolate. Silently, she finished the bar, licked her fingers clean of the rare prize, and folded her hands. Then she spoke, still not looking at the other. "You leave me with little choice. You destroy my favor with Qadir, who threatened my host. You betrayed my trust and taught me a lesson I may never forget. You leave me no choice but to slaughter all my birds at once."

"Birds?"

"'Kill two birds with one stone'," she repeated. "But you're my third bird, and with the others, killing may not be enough."

She fell silent for a moment; then we heard her crying softly.

Chrys closed her eyes; she hadn't meant to scare her. "You taught me not to trust. You didn't teach me not to have compassion. I'll find a place for you, out of the way of what will happen."

"What is that?" Najwa sobbed.

The Tok'ra leaned forward and stared straight into the slave's brown eyes, as Chrys had done many times before, now holding her in a fierce lock of stares. "I will kill my birds, just as I was sent to do."

"You're an assassin," she breathed.

Leaning back in the seat, Chrys broke the gaze lock and watched the shifting views of hyperspace. "Of sorts." She let a few seconds pass then commented, "You also gave me a bright souvenir." The indicator on my chest glowed a steady ruby red.

"You earned it."

A bright flash of anger shot straight from her lips. "You don't know—" Then her mind caught up, and she thought about it. Tok'ra were partners with their hosts. They were supposed to love them and protect them—body and mind—but as she looked back, even over the past few hours, she didn't feel that she'd done so.

"You've done what you had to," I assured her. "I haven't objected. It's a scarier galaxy than I ever imagined, and I'm glad you can cope with it if I can't. You've done nothing wrong."

You see this only from my point of view, Chrys objected.

"So? Whose else's do I need to consider? I know where I stand and where you're coming from. That's the only frame with which to view our interactions."

"You're the host?" Najwa guessed quietly.

I jumped at the sound of her voice and pulled my feet from the dashboard; I hadn't noticed that I'd been speaking aloud. Staring at her bound completely to the chair, I suddenly felt rather awkward. I wanted to trust her—she seemed so innocent—but Chrys cautioned against it, and ultimately, her fiery grudge won out. Still, I couldn't deny my identity with the Tollan indicator glowing like Caribbean ocean water on my chest. "Yes."

She stared openly at me. "You invited a Goa'uld into your body? You passively forfeited your life for its?"

"Tradeoffs," I summarized. "I'm content with my decision, even after the crap you and Qadir put me through." Even as I glared at her, my anger faded; she just looked too helpless, too naïve and vulnerable tied to the unyielding Tel'tak seat. "Look. We're not going to hurt you. Like he said, we'll leave you on some other planet, out of the way of this whole mess. You can forget about it forever."

"He who?"

I winced. Chryson was a male personality; I was his first female host. It took effort to think of him as a woman. "The, uh, Goa'uld inside me. It promised to leave you somewhere safe." Stupid English language pronouns; they just didn't fit Tok'ra well.

"I cannot trust the promises of Goa'uld. They speak only lies."

"Yeah. Whatever," I replied, relaxing. Chrys did have everything under control.

You needn't be so cavalier about the Goa'uld, the symbiote warned. I may consider them predictable and hold them in contempt, but they are both powerful and manipulative. Najwa is merely resigning herself to the fate any Goa'uld might deal her.

I glared at the control console, annoyed. "But you're not—"

She doesn't know that, and since she wouldn't believe us before, we can't trust her to believe us now. To her, all the evidence shows that we are Goa'uld; we cannot risk revealing the Tok'ra to her.

"Right. Okay." I couldn't help but compare the situation to classic spy literature, and the comparison struck me as the most humorous part of my day so far. A warm amusement came as Chrys's reply; he would have liked to be one of the heroes in those novels. A broad smile burst onto my face as I tried to picture him.

"You enjoy being a host?" Najwa observed, breaking into my thoughts.

I blinked at her. "Why shouldn't I? You can't spend your time missing what you used to have, or you'll become bitter and miss all that you have now. Maybe it doesn't look like I have anything, but I am alive. I'm getting to undertake an adventure rather than sitting at home, doing what everyone else is. And I have a great relationship with my symbiote. It's scary out here, but I wouldn't want it any other way."

"But you have left everyone you ever knew—"

"And not for the first time," I replied, thinking back to when I left for college, among other occasions. This was just a little more permanent.

Perhaps we could arrange a visit.

I smiled in response, but spoke to Najwa. "It gets easier each time. Life's about changing and learning. It's not easy, but it can still be good."

"But you forfeited that life for the Goa'uld's."

"I chose to share it. That decision kept me from dying and spared me a lot of pain. Quit trying to make me regret it. It's already done anyway."

Frowning, confused, she relaxed a little against her chair. "I just want you to know the Goa'uld are evil," she mumbled.

"Sheesh!" I growled, standing again. "Is that all you guys out here even think about? Get a life already!"

"They prevent us from achieving what we desire."

"So practice contentment… or rebel. You've no right to pity yourself until you've tried to change something." I shook my head. Even by trying to change the subject, I'd not even changed the subject. "Have you ever seen a wolf before… or a dog?"

Najwa shook her head.

"Oh." I shrugged, wishing I'd had a picture with me. "They're great animals to watch. Their movements are hypnotizing—almost human once you learn them."

She didn't seem to care…

* II *

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