STARGATE SG-1: Alliances by Alliances (SG1–8)

Author:Alliances (SG1–8) [Retail]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fandemonium Books
Published: 2020-06-25T10:26:01+00:00

Chapter Twelve

It turned out, O’Neill discovered the next day, that preparing the fallow fields meant plowing in troughs and troughs of rotted down animal guts, heads and sundry other parts, smashed up bones and food scraps from the daily meals. But no dead humans, at least not this time. Not that he could see, anyway. And he made sure to look, because he’d accepted Boaz hadn’t been blowing smoke when he said it was what the Goa’uld and their Jaffa henchmen did around here to troublesome humans.

After less than a day in this hellhole he knew, more completely, more intimately than ever before, just what evils the Goa’uld were capable of committing.

Field preparation was filthy, stinking work. Back-breaking. Nauseating. After three hours of solid labor he stopped, just for a moment, to scratch at the damned brand on the back of his shoulder and wipe his sweaty face with his forearm. His blistered hands were smarting abominably.

“I don’t get it,” he said to Boaz, toiling beside him. “You’re the head man. You could assign yourself to any job. Why pick this one?”

“Keep working,” said Boaz. “Hol’c will come soon. Every day he inspects us to make sure we work hard for the god’s glory. If he sees you not working, he will hurt you.”

Even dirty and runnelled with sweat, with flies crawling on his face, he was one of the most extraordinarily good-looking men O’Neill had ever seen. Tall, golden, built like some Greek god brought to life. Compared with him, GQ cover models were plain. All the men here made them look plain. And the women? Hugh Heffner would think he’d died and gone to heaven. The least attractive slave on this moon would own Earth’s catwalks, its fashion shows, Hollywood. Being here was like living in the middle of a Vanity Fair photo shoot.

Man, did I wander onto the wrong sound-stage or what?

It was creepy. For countless generations these humans had been selectively bred for beauty so Yu would be surrounded by humans pleasing to his alien eyes. Nirrti had done the same to Kinthea’s people. Ra, too; those poor kids he’d surrounded himself with were all perfect. Probably they all did it, every last Goa’uld system lord in the galaxy.

He’d never get used to it. Never stop hating it. If he died fighting it, well, like Bra’tac said. Today I die well.

Stretching out his tight neck muscles O’Neill said, wryly, “And if Hol’c did hurt me I get the feeling that wouldn’t bother you much.”

“If it was only you that Hol’c hurt, Joseph?” Boaz said, his expression grim. “No. It would not bother me at all. But Hol’c would hurt me too, for allowing you to stop working. Hol’c would hurt everyone working here now, for your sin.”

O’Neill looked at the score of other men scattered around the ten acre field, slaving away under the hot sun, methodically grinding blood and guts into the rich brown soil, making it even richer for the glory of a rotten corrupt sonofabitch snakehead.

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