As no Tok'ra came to investigate there appearance nor did Egeria find any trace of the old base that was established a millennia ago Egeria came to the conclusion that the Tok'ra abandoned this planet for one reason or another and now they needed a new planet to check one that hopefully wasn't as dead at this one. And then...
Luna had a vision.
It was not the dramatic sort—no screaming skies or ominous music—but the quiet kind, the ones that felt more like remembering something she had never been told. She stood before the Stargate, fingers hovering over the symbols, her head tilted slightly to the side.
"This one," she said aloud, and pressed a sequence Egeria did not recognize.
That address is unfamiliar, Egeria noted immediately. It does not correspond to any Tok'ra refuge or Goa'uld-controlled world that i am familiar with and it defiantly shouldn't be one you know of.
"I know," Luna replied calmly. "That's why it's interesting."
The Stargate activated without protest.
One step—
—and they were elsewhere.
The Gate opened into silence.
Not the natural quiet of an empty world, but the deliberate stillness of something hidden.
Before Luna stretched a vast chamber of smooth, dark metal, its walls curving away in a way that made distance difficult to judge. The air felt old but clean, untouched by atmosphere or breath for a very long time. Beyond the platform, through a wide viewing aperture, stars glittered in dense clusters—and beyond them, the faint curve of an asteroid belt, massive stones drifting lazily in slow, ancient orbits.
"Oh," Luna breathed.
They were inside a ship.
Not a Death Glider. Not a Goa'uld ha'tak. This was something else entirely—sleek and immense, its architecture elegant in a way that felt intentional. Not decorative, but purposeful. Every line seemed to exist because it had to.
Egeria was very still.
This is not Goa'uld design, she said slowly. But the language…
Symbols lined the walls—flowing, geometric, impossibly precise. Egeria recognized the structure of them, the way meaning nested inside form.
This script predates us, she realized. The Goa'uld copied fragments of this. Poorly.
Luna walked forward, footsteps echoing softly.
The ship did not respond.
No lights. No hum. Only the faint, distant movement of something small—tiny maintenance drones drifting along recessed tracks, repairing micrometeor scars Luna could barely see.
"It's asleep," Luna decided. "Or pretending to be."
She reached out and placed her hand against the wall panel.
The ship woke up.
Light bloomed gently along the corridor—not harsh or blinding, but warm and measured, like someone opening their eyes after a very long rest. A low hum spread through the deck beneath Luna's feet, deep and steady, felt more than heard.
Emergency power, Egeria understood at once.
It sensed you, possibly an automated response one it finally detected a lifeform perhaps she said.
"I didn't cast anything," Luna said quickly. "I just touched it."
I keep forgetting that your world is so antiquated and primitive from my perspective... at least when it comes to technology, Egeria thought, and wisely did not say.
The maintenance drones became more active now, moving with purpose instead of habit. Panels shifted. Systems cycled. The ship remained restrained, careful—awake, but not yet fully alive.
Data flickered across a nearby display, unreadable to Luna. She leaned closer, squinting.
"Oh," she said apologetically. "I'm afraid I don't speak Ancient. Yet."
I recognize the language, Egeria said. But not the meaning. This is far older than anything the Tok'ra ever encountered directly.
They moved deeper into the ship.
The scale of it unfolded gradually—corridors opening into vast chambers, observation decks overlooking the asteroid field, sealed hangars large enough to house entire fleets. Everything was pristine. Untouched. Waiting.
"A proof," Luna murmured. "That's what this feels like."
Yes, Egeria agreed. A proof of concept. And a contingency. You could very well be right.
They reached a navigation chamber where a star map shimmered faintly into existence, responding to their presence. Points of light connected by elegant arcs—gate addresses, Egeria realized. Not many. Perhaps hubs or just ports for ship testing. More than likely nothing but ruins now or worse picked clean by the Goa'uld.
"This one," Luna said, pointing without knowing why. "That's Earth."
You should not know that, Egeria said.
"I know," Luna replied cheerfully. "But I do."
The ship adjusted its orientation subtly, thrusters nudging them deeper into the asteroid belt, shadows swallowing the hull until even the stars seemed to forget it was there.
This vessel will undoubtably be low on power or other resources, Egeria warned. Since neither of us can read the console we have no way of knowing.
"We'll let it nap and eat properly later," Luna said. "I have somewhere to be."
She glanced toward a smaller craft nestled within the hangar—a shuttle, sleek and compact.
You intend to return? Egeria asked.
"Yes," Luna said, already walking toward it. "School's not finished yet."
The ship hummed softly around them, lights steady, drones dutiful, like a great beast settling back into watchful rest.
Hidden at the edge of the galaxy, a relic of a civilization older than both magic and empire waited—
—and it had noticed the girl who did not belong anywhere she was supposed to be.