Kelnoreem
Description, Rating, & Disclaimers
TITLE: Kelnoreem
AUTHOR: Elysium
SPOILERS: Holiday
SEQUEL/SEASON INFO: Season 2
RATING: G
SUMMARY: Junior's viewpoint on some events of this episode.
CATEGORY: Smarm. Sort of.
AUTHORS NOTES: Story was first posted to the Stargate SG-1 Hurt/Comfort list, at Onelist.com.
DISCLAIMER:
All Stargate SG-1 characters are the property of Stargate SG-1 Productions (II) Inc., MGM Worldwide Television Productions Inc., Double Secret Productions, Gekko Film Corp and Showtime Networks Inc. No infringement of those rights is intended. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author. This disclaimer was shamelessly copied from the 'Heliopolis' site.
I am chilled. We have traveled through the chaapa'ai again; as yet he has done himself no damage. I must be alert. This being demands so much. If my own survival did not depend on his I would gladly let him die of his foolishness. I tell myself these skills of manipulation will ease my transition to adulthood.
He is diligent. We are not ill; yet I feel the messages in his blood that I may rise to my part in our survival whenever I wish. He will not interfere. This one is old, skilled at standing out of the way, cooperative. He carried one before me, perhaps more. Perhaps they survived to their maturity. Perhaps one day I will find them and destroy them. Only the strong survive.
His body warms me. Shall I peer out and see this world? His voice rumbles through him; I know the alien words by now, which I did not inherit; he faces an enemy of the Goa'uld. I remain secure. I do not look out. He will defend. I will repair as need be. So it is between Goa'uld and Jaffa.
We hate each other.
I was too young at implantation. But he was easy, amenable. We survived. We survive.
The challenges came later. I was ready. I was glad for his suffering; it makes me stronger. Were his disposition so easy without these periodic disasters, I would not be skilled by the time of my transference, and I would likely die.
I send my messages; I read his. All is well. The memory of my fathers tells me not all are so easily managed. Many do not habitually stand out of the way.
Discomfort. Electricity. This I do not like. I protest. Now it is over.
The messages change. This is very strange. I have inherited no memory of such a shift. The messengers remain the same, but their balance is quickly lost. It is as though my Jaffa has forgotten me; suddenly he is an untutored young initiate. I scan his proteins and find the faintest trace of neural damage, disruption, more likely, below that requiring me to act. Human physiology alone could repair this; it is merely strain.
I dislike imperfection; I send my commands. He does not respond. He uses those avenues by which I normally communicate. He does not stand aside. My messages are swamped by his unproductive chatter.
I am highly annoyed.
Cold. The chaapa'ai again. I press myself against the warmth of his pouch walls.
His voice is different; his emotions more erratic as they ripple past. The chemicals are the same; there is no drift in isomer or chain to indicate my host has changed. Only the balance of them is wrong. Something has happened to this Jaffa's mind which I do not understand, and which I do not like. I can find no basis in his physiology by which to make repair.
Perhaps his memory is re-written?
I am patient. He begins his decline. There is a trivial virus I have been working against since this morning, which now marches uncontrolled. It takes longer than I hoped before this mind even recognizes there is a problem.
"I don't feel so hot," the voice rumbles. The intonation is wrong, and these are not the phrases of my Jaffa.
I ponder what creature has possessed him. Were it another Goa'uld, we would already be at war over his body. I listen carefully and learn it is O'Neill, the companion to my Jaffa, who somehow is my host. For once I learn something useful from what the creatures say.
I have expressed my displeasure in the most obvious of ways; this mind is too dense to understand me otherwise. I wriggle and throw myself about.
His friend speaks, in the phrasing of my Jaffa. I deduce they have exchanged bodies; I do not know to what purpose. Perhaps to annoy me. Petty creatures.
Yet they serve. The Jaffa that I inhabit is but a trivial modification of the wild species; O'Neills mind cannot be greatly different from that of my usual host.
It is another mind with which to interact. This will indeed be useful practice before my day of ascension.
O'Neill rests. We are very ill now and I am annoyed that I must endure this simply for his lack of training. The familiar mind of Teal'c speaks to this stranger from the other body. The chemical chatter slows, this one is almost to the point where my sedations may bring him to me.
Flighty. He rises chattering again. I throw my tail against his liver in frustration. I know I hurt him; he deserves it. I am careful not to do damage I will have to subsequently repair.
The voice of the other mind speaks from across the room; I do not know what these are planning but I hope it is short-lived. This one descends again, the messages grow simpler, less intense. He abandons those receptors which I must use; I am ready, as I have been for some time now. He must be trained; he must respond; I must make this obvious as possible. He has finally left an opening and I have exploited it, subduing him to the point where I can begin my repairs; I flood him with the needed missives, dragging him fully into kel-no-reem. The other mind would reach this state without my intervention.
Subdued, he is cooperative. I feed him gratuitous endorphins to keep him securely from my work. With his willful chatter silenced I am able to discern the problems. The virus is destroyed; I renew those organs which degraded as a result of my delay in this folly. I rest peacefully within him. He does not resist me; he does not even try. I clear those commands I have used to pull him into my control; he wakes elated with their fading effect.
We are well. We have survived. He is pleased with himself, though his ignorance nearly got us killed.
I will be glad if the other mind returns. Perhaps I do not hate it quite so much.
2/21/00
