We Love as One – Chapter 11

Disclaimer in index

A wave of hot wind hit Martouf as he exited the Chappa’ai and he looked upon the familiar setting of sand dunes and desert that the Tok’ra were prone to make their temporary home. He stood on the dais for a moment, thoughts in turmoil. What would the High Council say? What would his friends, already accepting of his death, react when they saw him alive and back in their lives? Being unblended, was he still even Tok’ra? And what of Lantash?

With these questions still tumbling through his mind, Martouf knew he had to face them and a lot more. If he didn’t, what was he supposed to do? He had been Tok’ra for over hundreds of years; it was the only thing he knew how to be. And he owed it to them to inform them what had happened. Martouf had never, in his entire lifetime, been so confused and so lost.

Martouf made his way off the platform and walked slowly into the desert, his eyes scanning for possible positions of Tok’ra, his old friends, as well as the position of the ring transporter. Things that would ordinarily be overlooked and unnoticed by visitors to this world were obvious to Martouf, a former Tok’ra with centuries of experience to aid him. Walking along, Martouf soon spotted an ideal and most likely position for a ring transporter. He sensed he was being watched, but none had yet to approach him.

“Tok’ra, kree! It is I, Martouf! I know you are here; I wish to be taken to see the High Council. If you do not take me, I am willing to undertake the journey myself.” Martouf shouted, taking another step closer to the position of the transporter.

His request drew an immediate response as Tok’ra, clad in their tanned uniforms, sprung up to surround him, zats and staff weapons pointed. Martouf scanned the faces of the Tok’ra and recognized some. Faces of old friends that once would’ve greeted him with a smile were now etched with surprise, wariness, and suspicion. He raised his hands.

“I am unarmed and it is me, Martouf. Please, if you will escort me to the High Council, I will explain all, starting with my sudden disappearance.” Martouf said calmly, waiting to see if the Tok’ra would honor his request.

After a few moments of hesitation, a Tok’ra Martouf recognized as Rye’an came forward and peered intensely into Martouf’s eyes. “You do not carry a symbiote.” Continuing after Martouf had shaken his head, Rye’an nodded. “We will take you to the High Council. They will want to be informed of your reappearance.” Rye’an gestured with his head to another Tok’ra guard and ordered the others to resume their positions underneath the sand.

Martouf stood close to Rye’an and the other Tok’ra and as they were transported down, Martouf knew he had made the right decision in returning; he felt like he’d come home. Wishing he could close his eyes and inhale the familiarity of the cool crystal tunnels and smell of home, Martouf found himself being gently, but firmly guided down the winding tunnels assumedly to meet the High Council. Martouf could feel the tension in Rye’an as he walked in between them and Martouf could also see the reaction of other Tok’ra as he passed them. Eyes open, mouths gaping, surprise, suspicion, and curiosity warring in their eyes. Martouf was certain that by the time his interrogation by the High Council was over, the tunnels would be abound with rumors.

Rye’an stopped and nodded to the Tok’ra guard who had come with them from the surface, but had ran ahead to inform the High Council. Rye’an motioned for Martouf to precede him, saying, “The High Council will arrive in a moment.”

Martouf nodded politely back and walked into a familiar meeting chamber. Part of him wanted to roll his eyes and snap at Rye’an that he had been with the Tok’ra longer than Rye’an had and that he knew what to expect; that he wasn’t some stranger. Martouf, though, held his tongue and maintained a calm and controlled expression as he stood rigidly in front of the table that would place him before the High Council.

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see both Rye’an and the Tok’ra guard raise their zat guns at him, poised to shoot should he reveal any treachery on his part. For all they knew, he still had za’tarc programming in his head and was sent to assassinate members of the High Council; Martouf made no protest and turned his attention to the High Council members sweeping into the room.

Scanning their faces, Martouf had to smile. They had no doubt been informed of his miraculous return from the dead, but their faces showed nothing, stoic as always. He bowed his head in greeting to the council and awaited their questions.

“Who are you?” A female council member asked, no sign of emotion in her voice.

Martouf sighed mentally. So it begins, he thought. “I am Martouf, formerly of the Tok’ra. Though it will take time for you to believe me, I have no other agenda. I am not a Goa’uld spy, or a za’tarc. I will gladly testify to that. I have not come here with subterfuge, but merely to inform the Tok’ra that I am alive.”

“If we are to believe that you are indeed the Martouf we of the Tok’ra once called our own, then how is it that you are alive?”

Swallowing inaudibly, Martouf prepared his vague cover story, less he get Jacob into trouble. “I am not fully aware of the entire circumstances, but I will tell you what I do know. I awoke two days ago and was surprised to find myself amongst the Nox people.” Martouf paused as surprise and raised eyebrows went up around the room before continuing, “I inquired as to what had happened, but the Nox people would not reveal anything except that they had found my deceased body, and that they had recognized me as Tok’ra. They then proceeded to take my body to their dwelling and revive me. They would not say anything more than that, no matter how much I pursued the matter. I spent the duration of my time resting and replenishing my strength enough to return here…to the Tok’ra.”

Looking at the faces of the council, Martouf was unsure whether or not they believed his vague story. “And how did you happen to know where the Tok’ra were presently located?”

“When prompted by the Nox as to what I was going to do, I expressed the desire to inform the Tok’ra of my return, but that I had no idea where to locate them. Again, the Nox revealed to me that they knew of a location where there were Tok’ra. They sent me through the Chappa’ai and I ended up here. I do not know how the Nox found me or how they knew where a Tok’ra base was located, they are a very mysterious, but powerful people. My questions went unanswered.”

Martouf stood silently after telling his story, staring straight ahead, as the council members congregated amongst themselves before turning to face him.

“We wish you undergo some tests in which you will prove to us that you are indeed you say you are. As much as we would like to believe you, we cannot. Rye’an will escort you and afterwards you will be given quarters in which to stay. You will however, be watched, not under guard, but watched by all Tok’ra who will monitor your movements. It is entirely likely that you will be called upon later to repeat your story to various members of the council and until such time when we have deemed you not a risk, you are forbidden to enter any rooms in which Tok’ra are conducting experiments, rooms that hold weapons of any kind, or rooms of otherwise vital importance.”

Martouf nodded. “I understand and I will abide by your orders.” He wanted so badly to ask if Jacob had returned from his mission with the Tau’ri, but knew that asking would raise further suspicion about him *and* Jacob. Martouf bowed his head to signal his respect and turned to Rye’an, waiting for him to escort him to a testing room. Martouf’s shoulders slumped as he followed Rye’an. Testing...oh joy. Martouf smiled internally. He’d definitely been hanging around Jacob too long.