They are breaking down, piece by piece, without any semblance of leadership, but the process is happening almost too slowly. The in-fighting is spreading outward now to worlds and territories completely under the *guidance* of the Lucian Alliance. Natan’s hold over his seconds hand been loosening for some time due to the interference of Tau’ri and the Ori, but he’d still had loyal followers filtered among the whoremongers, those dogs unfit to wipe the sweat from Natan’s very brow, who’d attempted to usurp his control.
Natan had been his leader, but also his friend and together the closest of confidants. They had stood side-by-side, fighting against the Goa’uld in their own fashion. Hit and run missions, staying only one step away from the chains of slavery, taking the occasional Jaffa prisoner and torturing the needed information to gather intelligence, supplies and men.
They had seen others beg and grovel for mere scraps of food and offer themselves unconditionally for the freedom they offered at their campfires and eventually liberated ships, these were the members of the alliance that have stood firm and also among the first to fall with his comrade. When the time comes, and though the clock is ticking, it will not be soon enough for their deaths to be avenged by his hand.
His head is hurting again and it makes him irritated and Kefflin silently curses the Tau’ri. He’d never had this problem until they’d captured his ship. Bastards thought they could interrogate *him*. They know nothing of doing it properly. If they weren’t such cowards, hiding behind their stronger allies he would have volunteered to teach them a lesson or two.
Kefflin takes a deep breath, shifts the pain down and lets it sit in his gut where it can be better used and looks to Ralith, the only one whom, outside of Natan, that he trusts. “Are you ready?” he asks.
Smiling, Ralith nods. “Yes. We’ve got men sitting ready in each of their ships ready for your word and four men inside the room.”
“Good. You know what to look for?”
“Of course, my lord, and might I say that it is far past time that it was done.”
“You may and yes it is.”
Ralith touches the controls for the door and steps inside; Kefflin hears his name and the demand for the proper respect from those inside waiting. He makes them wait for a few seconds more before entering, locking his gaze on each of the men seated around the table. He takes note of those that lower their eyes, knows that Ralith is as well.
When he crosses the short distance to the head of the table, he rests his hands on the back instead of sitting, nodding silently for the others to take theirs.
“From the beginning of the Alliance, Natan promised you all a better life and he delivered to you power and prestige among your peoples. All he asked for in return was simple loyalty, but for some time word has reached me of treason and sedition and with Natan’s death – I see it was not mistaken. If you – any of you – think that you can rule this Alliance any better than Natan… or myself. Then stand and make yourself known and we shall see who would be better suited to lead.”
He falls silent, letting his hands fall to his sides and waits as he looks around the room. Two of the eight sitting around the table push back their chairs and begin to stand. They fall before they are to their full height, the sound of two quick shots reverberate loudly against the steel walls and everyone looks to the head of the table where Kefflin is holding his gun in hand.
“Anyone else think they can lead?”
The remaining men give their answer by sitting, gazes shifting from the bodies that are quickly being lifted from their seats and removed. Ralith takes a step towards Kefflin, stating clearly that their ships were now under his leadership. Kefflin smiles in approval. He looks down a *his* lieutenants. “I will release your ships and allow you to return to them, you will maintain your territories and will now contribute sixty percent of your profits to me,” Looking at the two bloodstained chairs, “consider this a generosity,” he says, the smile never reaching the ice cold stare he gives each man in turn until they nod in agreement.
Sitting down, Kefflin takes a drink of wine. “Good. Now let go over other changes that will soon be made as to our operation.”
“Jesus!” Cam rips the electrodes from his head, trying to dispel the lingering waves of icy rage and satisfaction. His heart suddenly felt as if were about to beat out of chest.
It’s taken them close to three weeks to find the ha’tak. Kefflin, it seems, after being released and off their radar sent out several plants to ensure that no one knew of his route to the meeting. Frustrating the members of SG-1 even further was the fact that the rendezvous point had been changed; the new reports had started arriving within a day, each one stating a different set of coordinates for the location.
Originally posted at http://kazbaby.dreamwidth.org/747902.html. You can comment there using OpenID.| comments