The Halls of Osiris

Part one:

His head hurt.

That was his first thought, his only thought, for several microns.

Apollo clutched his head and groaned, trying to roll over. The universe spun crazily, and he gasped hoarsely in an effort to keep the contents of his stomach in its rightful place.

Lords, it was cold. He felt damp, as if he were covered with rime, like the grass back home on Caprica after a light frost.

He opened his eyes slowly, thanking Kobol that the lighting was dim.

Waves of agony settled slowly into continuous throbbing pain. The young warrior shifted again, trying to get his feet under him.

Rough hands dragged him upright, spun him around and shoved him forward before he could even focus on his surroundings. He had a brief impression of pillars, decorative fretwork verging on the vulgar, writing of some sort on every available surface, the gleam of gold in firelight. It seemed vaguely familiar, if he could just convince the world to stop moving long enough for him to think.

Armored guards marched him silently through a maze of corridors and down several levels followed by another maze of corridors, seemingly endless. The walk had at least given Apollo time to recover somewhat and get his bearings. The torchlight was gone, replaced by more utilitarian lighting. The polished walls gleamed metallic grey instead of gold, and much of the decoration was gone. His escort pulled him to a rough stop in front of one of the many doors that lined the hall.

"Tau'ri! Kree! Et'ta shel n'ac!"

Apollo winced at the volume of the announcement, none of which he understood, and which was not apparently aimed at him, if the muffled response from the other side of the door was any indication. Again, he understood nothing of the message, but recognized the defiance in the voice of the unseen prisoner.


There was a grating sound from within, metal on metal, and a soft shuffling, before the man within the cell responded with weary resignation, "Ar'ni shel ny'an, Dren'ac."

Apparently satisfied, the guard opened the door shoved Apollo inside. As he stumbled past the door the armored man swept his feet out from under him with a vicious kick, sending Apollo tumbling to his knees on the hard flooring. He gasped again and saw stars as the door slammed shut behind him.

He looked up again to find inquisitive blue eyes watching him. His cellmate was about his own age, slight, dark-haired with a naturally fair complexion made lighter by an unnatural pallor. Dark smudges shadowed his eyes. Green pants and jacket with a large emblem on the shoulder, black shirt, utilitarian boots --- Apollo might not recognize the insignia, but he knew a uniform when he saw one. The man was shackled to the wall by both wrists and ankles. The guards considered this man a threat, even here.

The man's voice was gentle when he spoke, but the only word Apollo understood was "Osiris."