It had taken some more convincing on their parts, but General Carter finally seemed to accept what they were saying. Before he left, he gave them the 'gate address to Vorash, and they in turn told him that they’d set up shop on Hovak. He already knew the address; they’d originally gotten it from the Tok’ra, after all.
From there, they'd returned to Hovak, and Tony waited until they were back on the base before asking for a word in private with Hargrove. It took a lot of effort to keep his expression neutral the whole way back. In Hargrove's 'office', one of the former Jaffa Commander's rooms, Tony pressed the control to close the door.
Then he hit him on the jaw, hard, sending him sprawling to the floor.
"You've had the 'gate coordinates to Vorash all along, haven't you, Hargrove?" Tony bit out, wringing his hand. I shouldn't have gone for the head.
Hargrove pushed himself up to a sitting position and wiped blood from the corner of his mouth. His expression flashed with anger for just an instant before becoming unreadable again.
"That's right." He responded flatly.
"I don't believe what I'm hearing!" Tony exclaimed. He'd had his suspicions, but hearing it confirmed was like a returned physical blow to him. "We could have contacted the Tok'ra at any time?? All this time, I thought we were out here on our own, but we didn't need to be! Why in God's name would you keep something like this from me??" A horrible realization came to him. "Did you… know they'd react like this?"
For once, Hargrove had the decency to look embarrassed. "It was a statistically strong possibility. They have a history of manipulating the SGC for their own gain, Tony; you know that! I didn't think we could take the risk."
"And so you just made that decision for everyone? Who's being manipulative now? You and your damned statistical thinking."
Tony took a moment, trying to figure out just what Hargrove had been thinking. "If they'd tried to bench us back then, I'd have said the same thing I just did now, but you never gave me that chance, did you? We're all in this together, Hargrove, but you didn't trust me!"
"I didn't know you, Tony! At the time, we were just getting started out here; I couldn't be sure that you were gonna stick with it through thick and thin! For all I knew, that recruitment speech you had us give about 'making a difference' was just you blowing smoke."
Tony felt his surprise fade away, to be replaced by bitterness. "I should have suspected it back then. You had all that intel, all those 'gate addresses, why not Vorash as well? But no, I didn't really see you. I just saw the SGC uniform instead, and I trusted you because of it." He turned away in disgust.
As he stood up, Hargrove remained mercifully silent for a while, giving Tony time to let some of his anger vent away. Despite his outrage, he did admit to himself that Hargrove had been right, at least about the Tok'ra's intentions. Then he remembered something. "What about Temens, and Stokes, and the rest who didn't want to fight? The Tok'ra would have been willing to take them in; you had to know that."
"I knew the Tollans would make them the same offer, and they're safe enough where they are."
Tony had another flashback to the growing graveyard at the Redoubt. "And what about the Survivors we've lost, Hargrove? The ones who died in combat I could understand, but what about those first two from Zau who died from illness? Belaiko and Oros could have been saved if we'd had Tok'ra help!"
A flash of indignation crossed Hargrove's face for a second. "You know as well as I do how the Tok'ra would have 'helped' them, Tony. By putting snakes in their heads! Sure, it would have saved their lives, but we still would have lost them, and you know it! They'd have been stuck that way, working for the Tok'ra for… well, maybe your God knows how long, but I sure don't." He grimaced. "Personally, I think I did them a favor by keeping that particular option off the table."
"Well, you just know everything, don't you?" Tony put in bitterly.
Hargrove unexpectedly shut up. There was an uncharacteristic struggle on his face before… "Sometimes it feels that way." He admitted softly. "Look, I'm sorry I kept this from you, from everyone, but please remember that this is how I think! I compartmentalize information by habit, and I'm good at it! It's what made me excel at the CIA, and as an intel officer for the SGC. It's what I do, and it's who I am."
Tony glared at him. "Well, I hope that 'who you are' has changed a little since you made that decision, Hargrove. Keeping information like that from the rest of us could very well get us all killed, if you make a mistake." He slumped slightly as he opened the door to leave, and all the exhaustion of the past few days seemed to catch up to him all at once. "You know, I've been frustrated at you, annoyed, upset, even downright angry with you in the past. I've never been disappointed before." He wanted to say more, but suddenly decided to leave it at that and closed the door behind him.
-.-
Jouwat stretched and craned his neck, luxuriating in the sensation. It had been far too long. He paid little heed to the four Jaffa guards standing around him, no doubt to keep him from causing trouble. As if they could; Jaffa were weak and easily destroyed, after all. When he extended his arms behind his head to their maximum range, he heard a series of popping noises in his chest and spine. There, that was better.
The five of them stood on the deck of an assembly bay in one of Delmak's more productive shipyards. Currently, the entire facility had been geared towards the construction of a single vessel: a massive, pyramidal flagship. It could be seen from virtually every window within leagues, and even though it was probably months from completion, it was still an impressive sight. Enormous swaths of superstructure jutted out from the base of the pyramid in six directions, and massive glider bays could be seen in construction even from this distance.
Jouwat grunted. Typical ruling class behavior. Their desires for dominant power overshadowed any pleasure they got from the simple things in life.
Ahead, a Jaffa gave a hand signal to them, and his four guards escorted him into the connected audience chamber. There, surrounded by lackeys and sycophants, stood the new Lord of Delmak. He wore flowing red and black robes, in Sokar's style, but without the hood. A black plate of metal covered one side of his face, including an eye.
Jouwat almost laughed. What a pathetic attempt at regal showmanship. Not that he'd expected better. Still, appearances must be maintained. He stepped forward past his guards and took a knee, awkwardly. His back was still new to him, after all.
Apophis dismissed his sycophants with a gesture and turned towards him. Strangely enough, he also sent Jouwat's guards away, leaving them alone. He approached slowly and gave him a long, evaluative look before beckoning him to rise. [Pragon Jouwat, do you know why you are here?]
[Yes, my Lord.] Jouwat slowly stood up, careful not to show any signs of his adapting to new muscles. [For the same reason you provided me with this new host. And why you sent my guards away, I imagine. You require my… unique skills for some special task, and wished them to remain ignorant of it.]
[You flatter yourself.] Apophis slowly walked around him, continuing his evaluation. [Your skills are impressive, but you are hardly irreplaceable.]
Jouwat bowed. [As my Lord says.]
Apophis let the silence stretch for a while, and then gave him a piercing look. [There is a group of humans in a remote sector of the galaxy, far from here. Thus far, my Jaffa have failed to track them down. I want you to find them for me.]
With effort, Jouwat restrained a snort of contempt. [Humans? If I am to prove my skills to you, my Lord, I suggest that you give me a more difficult task.]
[Do not underestimate them. They have already proven resourceful enough. If they are who I suspect, then they will be challenge enough for you.]
Apophis sounded… eager. Jouwat filed that away for future use. [As my Lord wishes. I will depart immediately.]
[With a battalion of my Jaffa.]
[My lord!] Jouwat protested. [If you know of my reputation, you also know I do my best work alone.]
Apophis gave a rictus of a smile beneath the metal plate on his head. [Indeed you do, but the Jaffa will aid you in this task. Find these humans, and I will have other tasks for you, more suited to your… appetites.] He shrugged. [Fail me, and I see no reason why you should not return to your confinement.]
He felt his expression darken. [My Lord takes pleasure at my expense.]
[Your failures are a matter of public record. Sokar killed your last host and imprisoned you because you were easily distracted. His death has afforded you a second chance. Do not waste it.]
Jouwat bowed again. [As my Lord commands.]
As he left the room, Jouwat felt his stomach rumble. Two hundred years of incarceration. No meals, no entertainment of any kind. Just time.
No matter what kind of preening egotist he was working for now, he was still happy to be out. He would make the most of this opportunity. He would make his glory days as an Ashrak in Sokar's service seem like a pleasant dream compared to what was next!
-.-
Hargrove raised a hand to knock on the door, and hesitated. Stop being stupid, he told himself. If you really want to go through with this, he's the only one you can talk to. With a little effort, he knocked, and then pressed the opening control on the side upon hearing 'come in'.
The Colonel was inside, and his face went blank as soon as he saw Hargrove. It had been barely a day since their conversation/altercation, and they'd both had time to think back over it. No matter how he'd tried, Hargrove had been unable to conjure any real remorse at his deception. It had been necessary, and being knocked down once was a small price to pay for the progress they'd been able to make without any Tok'ra interference.
He reluctantly entered, trying to focus on the task at hand.
"What is it, Hargrove?" The Colonel turned his attention back to his Goa'uld monitor and strange keyboard. Despite their previous conversation, Hargrove doubted he'd ever be comfortable calling him 'Tony', no matter what Suna thought of it.
"I know I'm not your favorite person right now, but I need to talk to you."
With an abbreviated sigh, the Colonel locked his computer and stood up to approach. "Is this about missions, or recruitment?"
"Neither, actually." Hargrove braced himself. "I came here for… personal reasons."
That got his attention. He looked Hargrove over curiously, and then gestured for him to continue.
Hargrove stood awkwardly for a moment, trying to figure out where to start. "I need to talk to someone about the SV, and what I think it did to me. I need to get another perspective on all of it, I guess."
"And you chose me because…?"
"Because information on the SV is classified. Because the only other people I could talk to are all my subordinates! Because we've had several long, annoying philosophical discussions, and I found them to be… occasionally helpful! Because you're the closest thing I have to a friend! Take your pick." Hargrove bitterly rushed through his reasons.
He seemed taken aback for a second, before finally nodding. "All right. The SV. What do you think it did to you?"
"I think… that it killed me." Hargrove finished quickly. He raised a hand to forestall any objections. "I know, my heart never actually stopped. I was in a coma, at worst. Still, when it first hit me, I thought- no, I knew that I was dead. I even dreamed up a funeral."
He sat in one of the makeshift chairs they'd brought into the facility; Jaffa weren't known for their furniture. The Colonel quietly took another chair and waited for him to continue.
"It was a military service, back on Earth. I heard a few people speaking. My old CO was there, along with a few people who trained with me, but that was it. My dad didn't show; no surprise there."
He remembered the helplessness, the frustration he'd felt, and looked up at Tony. "I was there in the casket, as they were lowering me down. I tried to get up, to tell them I was still alive, but I couldn't move. I couldn't even open my eyes!"
"The voices at your… funeral. Were they the same ones you mentioned when you woke up?"
Hargrove shook his head. "No, I had a bunch of different dreams before those voices and faces showed up. I guess the funeral was the first dream, but it seemed so real!" He sighed, deciding to start again. "I've had a purpose, a goal in my life, since before we ever met. I was aimed at it like a bullet from a gun, and I never had any doubts that it was what I was supposed to do. But, ever since the SV did… whatever it did to me, I've started to wonder if, well, if it's really that important."
He wanted to say more, but didn't know how to describe it differently. It didn't really make much sense, now that he'd heard it spoken aloud. The Colonel looked thoughtful, though.
"Is it possible that the SV made changes to your brain that didn't show up until after the Deuca ran their scans? That this sense of… doubt you have in your goals is the result of something it did?"
"You mean like physical changes?" Hargrove nodded emphatically. "I thought about that. I even asked Archie to run a battery of tests on me."
"And?"
"And nothing!" He shrugged helplessly. "According to his scans, I'm neurologically the same person I was when he did my last physical assessment over a month ago! He couldn't find any lasting changes from what the SV did, and the last variations disappeared weeks ago."
The Colonel nodded slowly. He remained uncharacteristically quiet as he pulled out a bottle of some kind of Deuca alcohol and a glass from the satchel next to his desk. He poured a glass and handed it to Hargrove.
Mystified, Hargrove took it. He could feel impatience creeping up on him. "Well, what do you think about all this?"
"If I didn't know better, I'd say you've had your first spiritual experience." He took a swig from the bottle.
In his mind, Hargrove had already come up with a list of possible responses the man might have to his situation. That definitely wasn't one of them. But then, he reminded himself, isn't that why you came to him in the first place? Because he could tell you something you'd never tell yourself?
Ever since their first discussion just before finding the Redoubt, their conversations had continued basically on the same vein. During their long planning sessions, they'd mixed in philosophical and ethical considerations with every major decision they'd made. Despite himself, Hargrove had eventually come to accept that the Survivors were better off because of the Colonel's perspective. Every time he'd brought up religion, though, Hargrove had just rolled his eyes and steered the topic back to something more useful.
This time, though, something seemed to compel him to listen more closely. "Ok, how would you define a 'spiritual experience'?"
"To me, anything that has enough of an impact on you to shake your preconceptions is a spiritual experience." He smiled. "Anything that forces you to take a long hard look at your life, for example."
Hargrove snorted. "That pretty much sums up what I went through. How am I supposed to, well, deal with this, though? What do I do about it?"
"I wish I had an easy answer for you, Hargrove, but this kind of thing is never easy. One thing I can suggest is that you go back to the drawing board. I won't ask what your 'goal' is, because it's obviously private, but think back to why you had that goal in the first place. Try to decide if the reasons are still important to you. Then, you at least have a reason for whatever decision you make."
Hargrove took a drink as he thought about it for a while, before giving him a level look. "You're purposefully trying to torture me here, aren't you?"
"'No pain, no gain', Hargrove!" The Colonel quoted, smiling. "After all, most things in life aren't worth doing if they're easy, right? Besides, you were wrong about one thing."
"Oh?"
"Not everyone on the base is your subordinate. You could have gone to Ahardt with this, and not had to put up with any 'religion talk' from me."
Hargrove had to crack a smile at that. The idea of spilling his guts like this, to Ahardt of all people… "Would you put your mental health in his hands?"
"Probably not," he admitted, "but it would be better than the other alternative. You could have tried Argyros."
They both broke out laughing at that, as he poured another drink.
