Gate Cowboys

In Progress
Action/Adventure
Other pairing
Season 4
Spoilers for The Tok'ra, Crossroads

Disclaimers:

Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, The SciFi Channel, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is written purely for my own entertainment, and that of anyone else who may happen to read it. No infringement of copyright is intended. It is not intended and should never be used for commercial purposes.

The original characters, situations and ideas contained within this work are the property of the author.

Acknowledgements:

Reader of betas
A saintly lecherous loon
This drooler is Sho

Gate Cowboys

"Unscheduled offworld activation," Sergeant Davis reported, striking a tally mark on a carefully sectioned record sheet as he did so. So far the count of unscheduled activations for the week was fifteen, including this one; a heavy week. Of the previous incidents, thirteen were SG teams returning ahead of or behind time, and one was an unknown, with no inbound travellers. Walter Davis checked the computer display, announced a Tok'ra IDC, summoned the defence teams and opened the iris before marking a second tally in the Tok'ra box. He did a quick mental count, and decided that Sergeant Tabor was probably the favourite to win the SGC crisis sweepstake this week, having successfully called not only a Tok'ra visit but also Tuesday's Wildfire false alarm.

General George Hammond reached the Gate Room faster than usual, and was standing ready to receive the visitors well before the figure of Jacob Carter emerged from the event horizon.

"Good to see you, Jacob," Hammond greeted his old friend.

"You too, George," Jacob replied. "But it'd be better to see my daughter." He grimaced. "I'm sorry, that sounded..."

Hammond held up a hand. "I know how you feel, Jake; believe me. Please; come up to my office."

"What happened, George?" Jacob asked.

"We're trying to find out," Hammond replied. "But the details are sketchy at the moment. We've sent someone to P9J-226 to try and find out more."

"Who?"

"Jack Rede," Hammond replied, and Jacob visibly relaxed to know the assignment was in hands that he trusted. "She's under orders to glean all the details she can, and attempt to extricate SG-1 via diplomatic means if possible. She's got SG-9 to help her out, and SG-3...well, just in case," he hastened to assure Jacob.

Jacob sighed the sigh of a man of action forced to stand idle; it was a state of being that Hammond knew well. "So, leaving the details aside, what can you tell me?"

Hammond picked up a sheet of paper, and read from it without looking. "SG-1 travelled to P9J-226 at eleven-hundred hours on Tuesday."

"Four days ago?" Jacob asked. "Why were they offworld so long?"

"Colonel O'Neill reported that Dr Jackson wanted to study the local culture more closely," Hammond explained. "And that Major Carter – Samantha – felt that there was a good chance that the planet could provide us with a much-needed new source of trinium. They were going to try and establish good relations with the local leadership, before handing it over to the diplomats."

"What was the local name for the planet?" Jacob asked. "Selmak knows hundreds of worlds, but not by the SGC designations."

 "According to Dr Jackson the name was Metisa."

"Metisa!" Jacob exclaimed.

"You know it?"

"Selmak does," Jacob acknowledged. "The Tok'ra avoid it like the plague." He half stood, took a pad and pen off Hammond's desk and scribbled a set of Gate coordinates. "Is this the planet?"

Hammond looked at the figures and nodded. "That's our boy," he confirmed.

"Damnit; that's not good," Jacob said, sitting back down. "Metisa is an Olympian client world."

Hammond nodded, slowly, then said: "Jake. Try to pretend for a moment that I know as little about what you just said as you do about SGC planetary designations."

Jacob smiled, faintly. "Sorry, George. What it means is that the planet is under the domain of a Goa'uld – in this case the Olympian, Minos – but that there is no full-time Goa'uld, or even Jaffa, presence there. Instead, a client world is permitted its own internal government, so long as that government pays tribute to the Goa'uld who rules. Client states are a pain in the ass for the Tok'ra, because they don't consider themselves enslaved. No one wants to rebel and risk a full occupation, so they just sit tight and stump up the pick of their goods and chattels each year."

"And an Olympian is...?"

"The Olympians are a lesser house of Goa'uld, a cadet branch of the Titans; Cronus' family. Many centuries ago, they rebelled against their sires, led by Cronus' son, Zeus. They seized a large number of worlds to call their own, but in the end the armies of the Titans were too strong to overcome completely and they reached an uneasy stalemate. Despite their great influence over Earth mythology, the Olympians never really cut it among the System Lords; not at Cronus' level, anyway.

"The one exception – the one Olympian who really made the grade – was Zeus' daughter, Athena. She was one of the Goa'uld's most brilliant strategists, and was widely credited with saving the rebellion from complete disaster, and her house form utter annihilation. She and another Olympian, Poseidon, argued over control of a number of territories, but Zeus always chose in her favour, because of the service she'd done during the rebellion. Metisa was the most important to her, because it had been wrested from her mother, Metis; whom Zeus killed when she stayed loyal to the Titans, by the way. Athena renamed the planet after her late mother and set up her court there."

"Sounds unusually sentimental for a Goa'uld," Hammond commented.

"You're not wrong," Jacob agreed. "And of course there was more to it. From her mother's genetic memory, Athena knew that the people of Metisa had been carefully chosen and bred to produce superior specimens."

"Superior hosts."

"Yes," Jacob agreed. "Except that Metis had found something much more useful. As well as great hosts, the population gave forth great thinkers, and she used that. She was renowned throughout the Goa'uld Empire as an innovator, because she had this brain trust planet at her disposal. She built a great Academy, to further these talents and to attract outsiders to study there and at the same time add to the sum of her own knowledge. Using the Academy as a think tank, she produced many new ideas that the Goa'uld would never have come up with alone. That was what Athena wanted from the planet, and for a couple of centuries she did well out of it.

"Unfortunately for Athena she later fell out of favour and Zeus stripped her of her forces and holdings. He trapped her soldiers offworld, and she was forced to flee when Poseidon's army – led by Minos, an up-and-coming young general at the time – took Metisa. He burned down the Academy because he felt it encouraged sedition, and concentrated on exploiting the planet's trinium, fine cloths and olive oil, and occasionally raising a levy to provide cannon fodder for his battles."

"You seem to know a lot about this planet," Hammond commented.

Jacob rolled his eyes. "Book-burning is one of Anise's serious bugbears. Anyone within hearing range tends to get treated to an impromptu lecture on the Metisan Academy, or some similar case, at least once a week." He laughed. "I agree with most of her points, but to be honest, I sometimes wish she'd shut up about it. Selmak also worked undercover among the Olympians a few times, although for the most part they haven't been a big priority for the Tok'ra."

"What happened to Athena?" Hammond asked.

"After she was exiled she tried to retake her holdings, but was defeated by Poseidon's forces and her mothership destroyed with all hands."

Hammond breathed a little easier. "At least we only have the one Goa'uld to deal with then," he said.

"Perhaps two," Jacob cautioned. "Poseidon has grown very powerful, and Minos with him. He rivals Zeus among the Olympians. He is noted for his strength and virility more than his wit, but his adviser, Mentor, is said to be unusually canny; and faithful."

"Faithful?"

"She was once very beautiful, and she knew that Poseidon's Queens were jealous, yet so eager was she to serve the Sea God, that she scarred her host to prove herself and appease the Queens."

"Queens?" Hammond asked. "So he must have quite an army?"

Jacob nodded. "Although he is frivolous with his troops, so he does not have the force that he could have, and they are not so well-trained as many Jaffa. When's Jack due back?" He asked, suddenly feeling concerned.

"Any minute now," Hammond replied.

As if on cue, the Gate thundered into life beyond Hammond's window.

*

Hammond and Jacob went down into the Gate Room, to be greeted by a shrieking banshee, spewing some of the foulest language either man had ever heard.

Hammond's eyes widened. "Does she kiss her mother with that mouth?" He asked Jacob.

Jacob smiled, fondly. "She doesn't deal well with failure," he replied. "And since she has to be polite when she's working, she bottles it up."

In addition to the banshee, two full SG teams stood on the ramp, watching the performance with a certain awe. Behind them stood a dark, slender young woman in a yellow chiton, whom Hammond did not recognise. She looked vaguely startled.

"General Hammond," Jacqueline Rede greeted the base commander once she had calmed down. "Kel'sha, Jacob-Selmak," she added.

"Kel'sha, Jack," Jacob replied.

"Welcome home, Miss Rede," Hammond said. "I'm glad to see you've brought everyone back in one piece; although you seem to be setting a bad example for the Marines," he added, trying to take her a little off edge before the debriefing.

Rede smiled, thinly. "All present and correct," she affirmed. "But that's about the only good news I'm afraid," she said.

Hammond nodded. "You can tell us all about it later. You'll give a diplomatic debriefing as soon as Dr Fraiser checks you out. Major Ridley," he said, turning to SG-9's CO. "I'll want you there as well, but the rest of you are dismissed until full debriefing at seventeen-hundred. Now; before you head for the infirmary, Miss Rede, perhaps you can introduce our guest."

Rede bobbed her head in assent. "General George Hammond, General Jacob Carter-Selmak; this is Archimea, a representative of the Interim Ruling Council of Metisa."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Archimea said, stepping forward and bowing. "Although of course, I deeply regret the circumstances."

"Likewise, I'm sure," Hammond replied, tightly. "I was given to understand though that Metisa was ruled by an elected President?"

"Tyrant," Archimea corrected. "But yes; for the past several millennia that has been the case. However, in the last few days the current Tyrant has been overthrown and a new, and highly provisional, government established in place of the Tyranny."

"I see," Hammond said, turning to Rede. "Does this revolution have anything to do with SG-1's capture?"

The General could have sworn he saw a slight sparkle in Rede's eye as she answered. "I should say so, Sir," she assured him. "After all; it was SG-1 who fomented the uprising."

*

"The Metisan state is currently in turmoil," Rede explained, standing at the foot of the briefing table. Hammond sat at the table's far end, with Major Ridley and Jacob-Selmak to his left and right respectively, while Archimea sat nearer to Rede.

"The Tyrant – a democratically elected absolute ruler – was overthrown two days ago by a popular uprising, led by a cabal of philosophers and scientists."

"How can you have a democracy if there's absolute rule?" Hammond asked.

"Sir," Major William Ridley replied. "The executive power of the Tyrant is not controlled by any legislative or judicial branch, but he is elected in an election held every seven years, and is required to step down at the end of his term unless re-elected."

"It's a simple system," Rede added. "One man, one vote. Which is to say that if you're a child or a woman; or for that matter if you're a man who happens to be a slave, a criminal, a peasant, a debtor, or someone deemed mentally incompetent by the Tyrant, you don't get a vote. The entire electorate – all men above a certain threshold of age, income and property ownership – is eligible for election, although usually the race comes down to three or four people."

"And this is the power structure that was overturned?" Hammond asked, rhetorically.

"Yes, Sir," Rede acknowledged. "The rebel faction was composed mostly of the middle and lower classes – which is to say the non-voters – and particularly the intellectuals. They call themselves the New Academy, and as soon as the Tyrant was gone, they established the Interim Council to maintain order. That's who we met with when we went looking for SG-1.

"It turns out that the Interim Council is very keen indeed to deal with us," she went on. "They want to open negotiations for aid in defending the planet from invasion, restructuring the government, rebuilding their economy and organising free elections with universal suffrage."

"That's all well and good," Hammond replied. "And we'd be happy to enter into such negotiations, but not until SG-1 are released to us."

"Well, that's the thing, Sir," Rede admitted. "They tried to release them as soon as the Tyrant's Palace was captured. SG-1 were considered to be friends of the new order; in fact, Daniel Jackson appears to be considered a hero of the revolution."

"So, what's the problem?" Jacob demanded.

Rede turned to Archimea, who looked deeply awkward for a moment before admitting: "We don't have them."

"Then who does?" Jacob asked.

"Minos," the young woman replied.

Hammond put out a hand to calm Jacob, who looked about ready to burst at this news. "Perhaps you should start at the beginning," he said. "Explain exactly what happened."

Archimea nodded. "Well, when the travellers – SG-1 – first appeared, we naturally took them to be emissaries of Minos, come for the fair."

"The fair?" Jacob asked.

"Start at the very beginning," Rede suggested.

Archimea frowned. "But how much..."

"Use your judgement," Hammond advised, patiently. "Decide how much we need to know to understand what happened to our people."

"Alright," Archimea agreed. "As Miss Rede explained, only wealthy men had power in our world. A woman's place was in the home, a peasant's place in the field, and a slave's to serve as his master chose. Women were confined, our movements restricted to our dwelling places after we reached the age of fourteen."

Jacob frowned. "That sounds like it probably originated as a precaution against the women being taken by the Goa'uld for hosts. That's a system which has evolved on a number of worlds; usually going from a means of protection to a tool of control and oppression within a few generations."

"Like the Shavadai," Rede agreed.

"The travellers, especially Eparchos Carter..."

"Eparchos?" Hammond asked.

"It means officer," Rede replied. "The Metisan military structure is simple at best, and doesn't have a direct analogue for major. An eparchos is a senior officer; a junior officer is a dekarchos and a commanding officer hegemon. For simplicity's sake the Metisans approximated ranks for all of our soldiers to use when presenting them."

"I'm sorry to interrupt," Hammond said.

"It is quite alright," Archimea assured him. "As I was saying, Major Carter was especially aggrieved at the treatment of our women. I was the one who showed SG-1 around the city, and as you can imagine, the Eparchos received a number of unkind comments from those who saw her walking abroad."

"She did?" Jacob asked, darkly.

Archimea nodded. "Ordinarily a prostitute is the only kind of woman who would be seen travelling the streets."

"Did you get any of these comments?" Hammond asked.

"Oh, no," Archimea assured him. "I was disguised as a man. I have lived that way for the last ten years of my life. It was better to live a lie than to live as a woman," she assured them.

"So was it the treatment of your women that provoked Dr Jackson to incite a civil war?"

"No, Basileus," Archimea replied.

"Senior commander," Rede explained, in response to Hammond's look.

"Not entirely," the Metisan woman went on. "SG-1 were also appalled by the treatment received by the slaves; especially the slaves of the rich. On a number of occasions, the Agèmos..."

"Jaffa," Rede chipped in.

"...seemed about to attack one of the ‘worthy citizens' who elect the Tyrant for beating their slaves in public. But it was Daniel who seemed the most deeply affected," Archimea explained. "While Major Carter and the Jaffa..."

"Teal'c," Rede reminded her.

"Teal'c," she corrected herself, blushing. "Yes; I am sorry. It was forbidden by the gods that we should speak the names of their servants. They were not to be treated as we are; not as individual humans, but as extensions of the gods' hands. Old habits die hard," she added, apologetically. She gathered her thoughts a moment before continuing. "While the others were angered by what they saw, Daniel seemed to carry that anger in his heart more than they did. The Hegemon – Colonel, I should say – was disgusted, but suggested that they should leave; that you could not deal with the Tyrant if he allowed such behaviour. Daniel might have agreed with him, until I told him about the teind."

"The teind?" Hammond asked.

Archimea nodded. "Every seven years there is a great fair," she explained. "Where the men gather to trade, to celebrate the year's successes, and to forget its failures. The only time that we behold our Gods is when Minos, or his envoys, come to the fair to collect their tribute of oil and cloth and trinium; and also the teind. At each fair, all of the children between seven and fourteen are brought out and displayed to the gods, and seven boys and seven girls are chosen for the teind. These fourteen lead lives of luxury from that point on, whether they were the Tyrant's children or those of slaves."

"That doesn't sound so bad," Hammond said. "But I'm guessing there's a catch."

Archimea nodded. "After the fourteen have been chosen, the fourteen chosen at the last fair are brought out, and taken through the Chappa'ai."

"This kind of tribute is common for client worlds," Jacob said. "Many consider it a small price to pay to avoid open conquest. Besides, they can always tell themselves that the sacrificial lambs that they send away might not die. If they are smart enough, they might find a place as priests or scholars; strong enough and they might be chosen to join the ranks of the Jaffa warriors; if they are beautiful enough, they might make fitting servants. If they fit all three requirements, they might even be selected as a host. Not such a terrible price for seven years of easy living, is it?" He finished by snorting angrily. "Of course, most of them aren't that lucky, and they simply die for the pleasure of their masters."

Rede shivered, as did Major Ridley, and even General Hammond looked shaken by the idea. It did not escape any of them that if children as young as seven could be chosen, then some of those going to die would be no more than fourteen.

"Such is the case with our teind," Archimea confirmed. "When I was younger, I served in the palace of Minos. A handful become servants or Minotaurs – Minos' bull-headed Agèmoi, but most die in the bull ring. Minos has a particular fondness for such spectacles, but his Queen, Pasiphae...She has a lust for blood sports that exceeds even his."

Hammond frowned, not liking where this was going. "So when he heard about this teind, Daniel rallied you to rebellion?"

Archimea nodded. "The fair was due to begin within eight days," she said. "That is why we thought that SG-1 must be emissaries of Minos. Daniel said that he could not stand by and allow this, and so he asked me to take him to an Academy meeting. There he spoke to the assembly, of successful revolts on other worlds. He spoke very well, winning many supporters, and we decided that it was time to make our move. We had been preparing for decades, always too wary...too afraid to take the fatal step that we could never withdraw; to publicly overthrow the Tyrant.

"But then, the day after the meeting, many of the Academics were arrested, and SG-1 taken into custody as agitators and troublemakers."

"It's a fair cop," Jacob admitted, but his voice was tense.

"Some of the Academics escaped capture..."

"Including you?" Hammond asked.

"No. No attempt was made to arrest me; that was how I knew that we had been betrayed by my own brother, Philip. He had sold us out to Alexos, the Tyrant, but would not speak against me. That was why we acted at once, and rallied our supporters to seize the palace."

"How?" Jacob wanted to know.

"Slaves," Archimea replied. "There are far more of them than there are slave-owners. We also had the universal support of the peasants and much of the middle class, which meant considerable sway over the Sciritai."

"The militia," Rede said.

"The slaves opened the palace gates, and half of the garrison came over to our side; half of the rest stayed neutral. Alexos tried to appease the mob by offering to send SG-1 as this year's teind in place of the fourteen, but it was not enough. The Tyrant fled from the palace and through the Stargate to Minos' homeland of Knossa. We allowed him to flee, preferring the coup to be as bloodless as possible.

"It was only when he was gone that we learned that he had taken SG-1 with him."

"So my daughter is now in the hands of Minos?" Jacob asked.

"Your...Oh!" She gasped. "I did not think. I am so sorry, Strategos. But, yes," she added, in response to an impatient frown from Jacob. "They are all in Minos' hands now, in his palace; the Labyrinth."

"This being so," Hammond remarked, acidly. "What possible reason could we have for negotiating with you for anything?"

Archimea averted her eyes. "We need your help," she admitted. "The people must have some faith that we can defend ourselves from the Agèmoi, or the Council will fall before we can complete our reforms, and Minos will take back our world without so much as a fight. We know that we have much to prove to you, but as a gesture of good faith, I bring you this." She held out a small, engraved metal disc.

"What is it?" Hammond asked.

"The celestial coordinates for Knossa," Archimea replied. "We also pledge the aid of as many Sciritai as you require in any attempt to rescue SG-1," she added.

"What about this traitor?" Hammond asked. "Your brother?"

"He fled with Alexos," Archimea replied. "But if he is recovered from Knossa, the Interim Council would want him to answer for his crimes before our own courts." She blushed. "Once we establish our own courts, obviously."

"I can probably live with that," Hammond agreed. "Jacob?"

"I'll be honest," Jacob said. "I'd like to string the bastard up myself, but so long as I get my daughter back, I'm easy."

Hammond nodded. "Then I suggest we begin making plans. This won't be easy, and time is going to be in short supply."

"I know someone who might be able to help," Jacob said. "If I can borrow Jack to carry a message?"

"What am I?" Rede asked, but without anger. "Lassie?"

"Just someone that the Tok'ra know," Jacob assured her. "And who knows the Tok'ra. I'd go myself, but I have to be here."

Rede inclined her head, conceding his point.

"She's at your disposal," Hammond agreed.

*

An hour later, Rede returned, bringing with her another Tok'ra. The host was tall, lean and dark, with a rangy frame, swarthy skin and the air of a nomad. Her mode of dress was somewhat eccentric for a Tok'ra, consisting of a loose shirt and pants, tall boots and a long coat. On arrival, she surrendered a zat'nik'tel and a long-barrelled pistol to the duty armoury officer.

"Nenya." Selmak greeted the woman with a fond hug, rather warmer than Hammond would have expected from a Tok'ra.

"Selmak," the woman replied, with equal affection.

"George," Jacob said. "This is Nenya, and her host, Rya. Nenya, this is General George Hammond."

"It is an honour," Nenya assured him.

"Likewise, I'm sure," Hammond replied. "But I'm afraid that we have little time for pleasantries."

Nenya looked at Jacob, curiously.

"I am glad Miss Rede found you so quickly," Selmak told her. "We have a problem, and would benefit greatly from your advice. Four of General Hammond's warriors, SG-1, have been captured, and are being held by Minos. One of them is Jacob's daughter."

Nenya thought for a moment. "I am sorry, Jacob," she said, earnestly. "I am not sure that there is anything to be done. Minos' palace is not known as the Labyrinth for nothing. Even if you could break in – and that is a big if – the outer palace is a maze. You would never find your way to the residence, let alone find your way out again."

"These people are our greatest allies," Selmak chipped in. "We must find a way to rescue them, and you are the Tok'ra's foremost expert on the Olympians."

Nenya sighed. "I shall do what I can to aid you," she promised. "What are our resources?" She asked.

"Everything and everyone in this facility," Hammond assured her.

"Also, all of the Tok'ra in my sector," Selmak added.

"Do the Council know this?" Nenya asked him.

"I shall inform them in good time," Selmak assured her.

"Alright," Nenya said. She moved past Hammond to the white-board, and picked up a marker. "They are being held on Knossa?" When Jacob nodded, she went on, sketching on the board as she spoke. "The Labyrinth is located some five miles from the Chappa'ai. Most of the terrain in the area is rough moor land – downs, ridges and bogs – but a single, straight road leads from the Gate to the palace for heavy transportation. The Chappa'ai is heavily guarded; a garrison of thirty Jaffa are billeted in a guard house, and six are on duty at any time. These numbers may be higher; all the Goa'uld are on edge with Apophis back on the rise, especially the minor lords. He's snapping up systems one-by-one, so the less they have to take, the more likely he is to take it.

"The Labyrinth itself is built in the shape of a great pyramid, without the summit. The top of this pyramid is flat, and home to Minos' bull-ring. This ring, by the way, can only be reached from below due to the force-field which protects the entire complex from bombardment. To reach the upper levels – the inner palace – you have to negotiate the maze. The easiest route leads from the main gate, but that path leads through the avenue of the portico temple, which is guarded by five warriors, with fifteen more waiting in the guard room. The inner and outer doors are balanced to be closed at a moment's notice. There are gun ports and murder holes around the upper levels of the temple avenue; any attempt to break in that way would lead to a quick and messy death."

"It seems a little extreme," Hammond noted. "Even for a Goa'uld stronghold."

Nenya nodded her agreement. "Minos had good reason to be paranoid though. He knew that he had made an enemy of Athena by taking possession of Metisa, and he feared her retribution. Prior to her death, he spent years fortifying his position. He had the architect who built the Labyrinth for him executed, to keep its secrets safe, and he rarely leaves its shelter; never without at least twelve bodyguards."

"You'd think architects would see these sorts of things coming," Rede commented.

"He did," Nenya assured her. "But he did not run fast or far enough. A few of the builders did escape however, which is how I happen to know that there is a back door; an escape passage which runs to a small shrine in the middle of a particularly foul mire." She marked an X on her diagram.

Major Davis knocked politely on the briefing room door before entering. "General Hammond," he said.

"Yes, son?"

"Telephone for you, Sir," Davis replied.

"Tell them to call back later," Hammond insisted.

"Well, I would, Sir," Davis agreed. "But it's the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs, in person."

"Damnit," Hammond muttered.

"A problem, General?" Nenya asked.

"Probably," Hammond replied. "Keep working on this; I'll be back in a few minutes."

Hammond moved to his office, with Major Davis in his wake, and grabbed the telephone from his desk. "Hammond," he said. "Hello, Sir."

He listened patiently for a few moments, before saying: "With all due respect, Sir..."

Major Davis frowned as the voice at the far end of the line audibly cut the General off.

"If you'd just give me a few hours to come up with a possible plan, then..." Again, Hammond was cut off. Behind him, the Stargate activated and opened, he craned his neck around to look, but could not leave the phone. The iris remained closed however, and after a few moments the wormhole disengaged.

"Yes, Sir," Hammond replied, at length. "I understand. Thank you, Sir." As he hung up the phone, he looked tired. He glanced up at Davis. "Did you inform the Joint Chiefs that we were planning a rescue operation?" He asked.

"No, Sir," Major Davis replied. "You had not informed me of any such plan, although of course had you done so it would have been my duty as your liaison to report it."

Hammond smiled, wearily. Davis was a lot of things, but stupid was not one of them. He would have known what was going on, but without official notification he could always claim otherwise. "Of course, son," he said. "You should always do your duty."

"Bad news, George?" Jacob asked, as Hammond returned to the briefing room.

"I'm not sure how, but the Joint Chiefs got wind that we were planning a rescue op and have nipped it in the bud. I was hoping to present them with a workable strategy all laid out," he admitted. "But now our hands are tied. For the rescue of SG-1, I'm not authorised to mobilise more than one Sierra Gulf Team for a low-risk retrieval mission. An ‘even balance of resources', as the Chairman put it."

"I am sorry, Basileus," Archimea said, sincerely.

"One the up side – for you, anyway – I've been instructed to open formal diplomatic relations with Metisa."

"That might not do you any good," Archimea admitted. "In fact...you could say that rescuing SG-1 was a necessary diplomatic step," she suggested. "The only chance you're likely to get to deal for our trinium is with the Interim Council, but the Council considers SG-1 to be heroes. If you abandon them..."

Hammond shook his head. "Thank you for trying," he said. "But the position of the Joint Chiefs on offworld rescue missions has become increasingly intractable throughout the course of this project."

Jacob shook his head. "A country that committed five-hundred thousand troops to an undeclared war in Vietnam won't send thirty to rescue four of its best soldiers? What in God's name are we coming to, George?"

Hammond snorted, disgustedly.

Major Davis coughed, politely. "The feeling of the Joint Chiefs, Sirs, is that each excursion through the Stargate represents a potential violation of another state's boundaries, and that to send a unit with the explicit intention of committing an act of force would be tantamount to a declaration of interplanetary war."

Jacob gave Davis a sceptical look.

"The short of it, Sir, is that they're scared," Davis explained. "The Joint Chiefs are used to dealing with lesser numbers of troops with inferior weapons and training. The potentially limitless numbers of alien races, of unknown population and ability that the Stargate represents contact with scares them. They're worried that one day we'll run into a group as advanced as the Nox, Asgard or Tollan, but whose ideals are less...enlightened."

"Well, be that as it may, I don't plan on abandoning my people," Hammond insisted. "Jacob; I can put a single team on this. What can the Tok'ra provide?"

Jacob averted his gaze, awkwardly.

"We received word while you were in your office," Nenya replied. "The Tok'ra Council has been informed of SG-1's capture and refuses to commit any resources to the rescue effort."

"We would do no different if it were Tok'ra who had been captured," Selmak added. "However, my seniority within the Tok'ra gives me a certain amount of latitude for personal involvement."

"And you will still have the assistance of as many Sciritai as you require," Archimea added.

"Thank you, again; but I'm just not sure what we can do without at least a little armour," Hammond admitted.

"I have been thinking," the Metisan said. "And I believe that I know a way to achieve this rescue successfully, with only a small strike team."

"I can not see how," Nenya said. "Merely passing the Gate..."

"Well, we would have to avoid the Gate, obviously; that would require some manner of space-faring transport craft. But if we could land this small team some distance behind the palace; here," she added, gesturing towards an area of Nenya's sketch map. "Yes, this might work, but..." She pursed her lips. "No," she sighed at last. "I can guide us once we are within the inner palace; but I can not navigate the maze. We would need someone who knew its secrets. A Minotaur, or..."

"Someone who had escaped from there perhaps?" Nenya suggested.

*

For the third time in six hours, Jack Rede stepped out of the wormhole into the Cheyenne Mountain Gate Room.

"Is this safe?" She asked her companion. "This much Gate travel in a single day?"

"I have travelled through seven wormholes in the space of an hour before now," Master Bra'tac assured her, handing his staff weapon to the armoury officer. "Treat this weapon with great respect," he instructed the younger man.

"I treat all weapons with respect, Sir," the officer assured him.

Bra'tac nodded, satisfied.

"This way, please," Rede told Bra'tac.

"Master Bra'tac," Hammond greeted Teal'c's mentor.

"Hammond, of Texas," Bra'tac returned, clasping the General's arm. He looked up, and glowered suspiciously at Jacob and Nenya. "Goa'uld!" He accused.

"It's alright," Hammond assured him. "Master Bra'tac, this is Jacob Carter, and Selmak of the Tok'ra; and Nenya-Rya, also of the Tok'ra."

"Tok'ra? I have heard much of you from Teal'c and O'Neill," Bra'tac admitted.

"Nothing bad, I hope," Jacob replied.

"Nothing bad," Bra'tac confirmed. He gave a wry smile. "But you might say nothing much good either, although Teal'c was moved by your willingness to find a new prim'ta for Shan'auc."

Jacob hung his head a little. "Please believe that we were all saddened by the way that that turned out. The Council was certain that the spy would be more wary of revealing his identity."

"I understand your thinking," Bra'tac assured him. "And you are the father of Major Samantha Carter?" He asked, changing the subject.

"I have that honour," Jacob acknowledged.

Bra'tac nodded, briefly. "Then it is an honour to meet you. Your daughter is...like few women I have ever met." He turned back to Hammond. "Now; Miss Rede said that my presence was urgently required?"

"SG-1 have been captured," Hammond explained. "And we need your help in rescuing them."

Bra'tac shook his head in mock despair. "This is becoming too much of a habit," he cautioned. "But what aid can an old man give in this hour of need?"

"SG-1 are held within the Labyrinth of Minos, on Knossa," Nenya told him. "And we require the assistance of one who knows the maze."

Bra'tac nodded, slowly. "I see," he said. "I am surprised that you know of that; few people do."

"I have studied Minos carefully," Nenya replied. "I learned some years ago that a Jaffa once escaped from his custody. It took me far longer to learn that the Jaffa was named Bra'tac, and that Minos still offers a substantial sum for his capture. It seems that he is still embarrassed that anyone could foil his security and escape his fortress."

Bra'tac gave a short laugh. "I did so only with much luck, and assistance." He gave a sly smile. "Minos' daughter was most taken with me, and helped me to escape from her father's clutches."

"His daughter?" Jacob asked. "A Goa'uld?"

"No," Bra'tac replied, more sombrely. "A human. After our escape, I took her with me to Chulak and married her; my Ariadne."

Archimea sat up, sharply.

"Could she help us?" Jacob asked.

"She would not take a symbiote," Bra'tac replied. "My wife died almost ninety years ago, of an infection. She was so young," he added, sadly, making no attempt to hide the fact that he still felt pain at his loss. "Even for a human. We Jaffa have no medicines; we have so little need of them."

"Excuse me," Archimea said, softly. "But that can't be right. Ariadne – Minos' daughter – still dwells in the palace with him. And she is not over ninety years old."

"And who are you?" Bra'tac demanded, offended at the implication that he would lie regarding his late wife.

"Archimea, of Metisa," she replied, boldly.

Bra'tac took a step towards Archimea, and she half-stood, suddenly frightened by the hard look in his eyes.

"Please," Nenya interjected. "There is a simple explanation here. Ariadne is the name that Minos always gives to his favourite daughter. He usually likes to have at least one around him; I'm not sure why. His Queen despises them with a passion, not least because they are palpable expressions of his infidelity."

"I'm sorry," Archimea said. "I did not mean any disrespect; I was simply confused."

"I accept your apology," Bra'tac said, gently, shaking off his anger. "I am somewhat sensitive when it comes to my late wife. Many disapproved of my choice, you understand, and life was not easy for her."

"The Labyrinth," Nenya prompted.

"Yes," Bra'tac agreed. "The problem with navigating in the Labyrinth is that the walls move."

"Move?" Jacob asked.

"Yes. The entire complex is designed so that it can reshape itself completely in a matter of moments. Corridors become dead ends, stairs that led up now lead down; that sort of thing."

"So whatever you found out coming out, would be useless to us now?" Hammond asked, feeling despondency creeping up on him.

"No," Bra'tac replied. "Because Ariadne taught me the system. You see, there is a method to navigating the shifting halls that, once learned, makes it child's play to find your way through."

"What if the key has been changed?" Hammond asked.

Bra'tac shook his head. "It can not be done. The key is built into the very fabric of the Labyrinth. He would have to tear the fortress down and raise it up anew."

Jacob frowned. "If his First Prime knew the secrets of Minos' fortress, why did Apophis never destroy him? I know that he has fought the Olympians three times in the last century."

"I was not his First Prime at the time of my escape," Bra'tac replied. "I doubt that Apophis bothered to notice that a simple Jaffa warrior was missing; let alone that I was captured. Even after I was raised in his service however, I did not tell him that I knew Minos' secrets."

"Why not?" Nenya asked. "Even if you doubted Apophis' divinity, what love could you bear for Minos?"

"No love," Bra'tac assured her. "But honour. I swore an oath to my wife, that I would not reveal to another soul the secrets that she taught me. She was a good daughter, and wished to protect her father; however little he deserved her loyalty. I am only breaking this oath now because your daughter is in peril," he assured Jacob. "And also because Teal'c was as near a son to Ariadne as he was to me."

Nenya looked away, perhaps wisely choosing not to issue an apology that would have said far less than the stricken look on her host's face.

"Master Bra'tac," Hammond said, trying to get the discussion back on track. "The Tok'ra Council and my superiors have not allowed us much in the way of troops for this mission. Could you rustle up a few Jaffa willing to lend a hand?"

"For certain," Bra'tac agreed. "But Jaffa who would fight alongside a Goa..." He cut himself off. "Forgive me; beside a Tok'ra – beside any symbiote – that would be harder. I could do it, but not quickly. I mean no offence," he added.

"None taken," Jacob assured him.

Hammond nodded slowly, weighing up the options. "I think that time is probably our greatest enemy here," he said at last. "I guess we'll have to make do with our one SG team and whatever the militia can spare us." He turned to Jacob. "As for a ship; can you cover that angle?"

"Yes," Jacob replied. "The Council won't allow us to use a Tok'ra teltac, I'm sure, but Nenya has a ship."

"Rya," Nenya corrected. "The ship is Rya's." She closed her eyes a moment, before continuing in the host's voice. "It doesn't look much, but it'll serve," she promised, turning towards the map of the Stargate network. "I can fetch it and meet up with you...here." She settled one callused finger on the map, and read off: "P2H-119. That's Tarsus; a once-beautiful world, desolated by a struggle for control waged between Cronos and Zeus. Technically, Zeus currently controls it, but it's such a hellhole now that no-one ever goes there. It's near to the edge of Olympian space, but so is Minos' domain. From Tarsus it should only take about...three hours, by your reckoning, to reach Knossa."

"How soon can you be at Tarsus?" Hammond asked.

"Five hours," Rya replied. "At the most."

"Very good," Hammond said. "Then we'll rendezvous there at..." He checked his watch. "Seventeen hundred hours."

"Sounds good to me," Jacob agreed. "Can I borrow a watch though; I seem to have lost mine."

"Excuse me, Sir," Major Davis said.

"Yes, son?" Hammond asked.

"I hate to have to remind you, but don't your standing orders forbid you to pass through the Stargate."

"Yes, Major; I believe they do," Hammond replied. "Thank you."

"Just doing my job, Sir," Davis replied. "If you need me, Sir, I'll be in my office," he added. "Doing some important paperwork I've been putting off. It's just down the hall, Sir. No view of the Gate Room at all."

"Very good," Hammond said. "Dismissed, Major."

"Thank you, General Hammond."

Jacob shook his head and gave a soft chuckle. "I swear, George; you must have the most unscrupulous command in the history of the US Air Force."

"And I wouldn't trade them for the world," Hammond replied with a smile. "Alright. You, Rya and Bra'tac go pick up the ship; I'm not sure what kind of reception a host or a Jaffa would get on Metisa at the moment."

"Probably a poor one," Archimea agreed. "Although any friend of SG-1 would be welcome..." She tailed off.

"The explanation would take more time than it would be worth," Jacob finished for her. "We understand."

Hammond nodded once more. "Then Miss Archimea and I will go rally the troops, and meet you on Tarsus."

"Good luck, George," Jacob said. "And Godspeed."

"What about me?" Rede asked, catching Jacob's elbow as everyone began to file out.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Jacob said, waving Nenya to go ahead. "I really don't think we need a diplomat on this mission."

"I'm not asking as a diplomat," Rede replied, sharply. "This is hardly a standard op now, is it, Jake? So don't stand on formality."

"You're right," Jacob agreed. "It's not standard; it's personal. George knows full-well it could be the end of his career; don't make it the end of yours as well. You've got so much more to lose than we have."

"I want to come," Rede insisted.

"SG-1 don't mean anything special to you," Jacob replied.

Rede tightened her grip on Jacob's arm. "But you do!"

"Jack...please. I may lose Sam here," he said, his voice cracking. "I don't want to lose you as well."

"You think I'm in some sort of hurry to lose you?" Rede demanded, her eyes filling with tears.

"Of course not; it's just..." Jacob drew Rede closer and held her gently. "I'm a soldier," he said. "Deep down at heart, I'm a field officer. This is what I do, but it's not what you do. Right now, we need you to do what you do."

Rede hugged Jacob tightly. "Which is?"

"Lie like a dog," he replied. "Sooner or later someone has to ask about George, and we need someone to stall if he's going to come out of this with a career. Now, I know there are quite a few people around the base who're prepared to lie for George Hammond, but we need the best damn liar there is for this, and that's you."

Rede gave a choking laugh that was half a sob. "You really know how to make a girl feel special, don't you?"

Jacob stood back from her. "Jack; since my wife died, there's been no-one. Did you know that?"

A wavering smile crept onto Rede's face. "Okay," she admitted. "That's pretty special."

Jacob smiled, encouragingly. "I meant what I said about the lying as well," he assured her.

"Alright then," Rede said. "I'll stay here and fib for the team." She wiped her eyes and composed herself, and Jacob could only watch with awe as her turbulent emotions vanished behind a mask of perfect composure; not even her eyes gave her away, aside from the slight redness at the corners. Even with Selmak in control, Jacob would have had trouble matching her reserve.

"Hold the fort," he said.

"And keep the home fires burning," she promised. "Oh; and you'll need this." She dug in the pocket of her fatigues, and drew out a heavy silver wristwatch.

"Where did you find that?" Jacob asked.

"You left it in Colonel O'Neill's cabin last time we were there," Rede explained. "And...I didn't find it. Colonel O'Neill did."

"Oh God. Does he know..."

Rede grinned. "Well, let's see. ‘To Dad; All my love, Sam'," she read, from the back of the watch. "Colonel O'Neill might act dumb, but it turns out he was smart enough to work that one out. I told him you asked me to bring it back to Earth to have it cleaned and serviced," she assured him. "I think he bought it, but he's almost as sneaky as I am."

"Here's hoping," Jacob replied, slipping the watch onto his wrist.

"Jacob," Rede said.

"Yes?"

"Don't get yourself killed. Okay?"

"I promise."

*

Hammond found SG-3 in the gear-up room, and looked them over. Although they were not Air Force, he had come to respect the SGC's Marine combat teams as much as any of his troops, which was why he would not lie to them now.

"Major Wade," he said.

"General on deck!" Wade snapped, and the four marines leaped to attention.

"At ease," Hammond allowed. "Now as I'm sure most of you have realised, this is not an official mission. By the strict letter of my orders, I am only authorised to send an SG team through the Stargate on a low-risk retrieval. This mission will be anything but low-risk, so if any of you don't feel like getting shot at today, and possibly court-martialled even if you get back alive, you're free to tell me where to get off."

"Permission to speak freely, Sir?" Wade requested.

"Granted."

"Sir, I think I speak for my entire team when I say, to hell with the strict letter of the orders. Getting shot at is in the job description, and besides; SG-1 would come after us, Sir."

"That they would," Hammond agreed. "Report to the armoury immediately, Major. We ship out in fifteen minutes."

"Yes, Sir."

*

Rede walked General Hammond to the Gate Room. He had changed into fatigues, which actually threw Rede somewhat, but she listened attentively as he gave his final instructions before leaving.

"If it comes down to the line," Hammond said. "Major Davis is in charge of the SGC, and I'm..."

"Incommunicado?" Rede suggested.

"Stepped out to clear my head," Hammond replied. "I've just lost my flagship team; I doubt even the Joint Chiefs could begrudge me that."

"Are you sure you want to do this, Sir?" Rede asked. "General Carter is just as decorated as you, and SG-3 can function without you there on the ground."

"I know, Miss Rede," Hammond agreed. "But I'm asking those boys to break regulations, and I owe it to them to see it through with them."

Rede nodded. "I understand. Good luck, Sir."

"Thank you, Miss Rede. I hope we won't need it but..."

"Can't hurt, eh?"

"That it can't."

SG-3 were waiting for the General, each man kitted out in full combat gear: packs, helmets, flak jackets, sidearms, zat'nik'tels, bayonets and goggles. Captain Parker carried a Jackhammer assault shotgun in place of a more conventional squad automatic weapon, Lieutenant Venn and Sergeant Collins each had an M4 carbine with an M203 under-barrel grenade launcher, while Major Wade had no launcher on his M4, but carried a metre-long tube on the side of his pack, as well as a number of hand grenades.

"Loaded for bear, I see," General Hammond noted, pointing at the tube. As he spoke, the weapons officer handed him a pistol and a P-90.

"What is it?" Rede asked.

"M136 Light Antitank Weapon," Wade replied. "Just in case, Sir," he added.

"Very good, Major," Hammond replied. He turned to look up to the control room. "Sergeant Davis; would you open the Gate so that Miss Archimea can return home, please?"

"Yes, Sir."

"It's just Archimea, Basileus; really," the young Metisan insisted, wriggling uncomfortably in her borrowed fatigues. The only weapon she carried was a zat'nik'tel signed out from the SGC armoury, but despite looking out of place among the hardened Marines, she had assured Hammond that she was a capable shot.

"As you prefer," Hammond replied. "And please call me General Hammond; not Basileus."

"Of course, General Hammond."

The seventh chevron locked in place, and the Stargate opened. Beside General Hammond, Archimea took a step back in fear, her face paling slightly.

"Is everything alright?" Hammond asked.

"Yes, General," Archimea assured. "It's just...For all my life, any time the Chappa'ai has opened, the Goa'uld and their Agèmoi have come out to carry away my friends and my neighbours."

"Not any more," Hammond promised her.

"No. No more."

"Lead on, Archimea," Hammond said, gesturing up the ramp. As she walked forward, he turned to Rede.

"Hold the fort?" Rede guessed.

"And keep the home fires burning."

"Fort. Fires. Check."

"Alright Major Wade; let's move out."

*

P9J-226

Metisa

"Welcome to Metisa, General," Archimea said, as Hammond emerged from the Gate. He was surrounded by more than three dozen soldiers, in what appeared to be a kind of half-armour modelled on Jaffa styles. Their crested helmets had clearly once also borne horns, but these had been roughly hacked off, and a sigil in the centre of each breastplate had been covered by a smear of black paint. They carried staff weapons, but although they seemed wary, they held the weapons loosely. There were two Goa'uld energy cannon set up in flanking positions, but they were pointed safely at the ground.

The planet itself, seen behind these stalwarts, was beautiful. Gentle, grassy hills rolled away into the distance, dotted with olive trees, date palms and orange groves. In the distance rose the city, a rambling collection of houses in a dozen styles, surrounding a central complex of gleaming white marble. The smell of the land was fresh and verdant, and aside from the heavily-armed guards, Hammond found it difficult to believe that such a paradise had only just suffered a revolution.

"May I present Strategos Karabos, provisional commander of the militia," Archimea went on. "Strategos, this is General Hammond, commander of the SGC."

Karabos – a tall, lean man of about forty years old – saluted Hammond, placing a clenched fist over his own heart. "It is an honour," he said. "Daniel Jackson, spoke well of you."

Hammond returned the salute in the conventional Air Force style. "I can think of few greater compliments," he replied.

Archimea smiled, but almost immediately grew serious again. "Strategos," she said. "The General has need of a military force, and I need armour and a weapon. We go to rescue our friends."

Karabos frowned. "How many do you need?" He asked.

"No more than a dozen," Hammond replied. "Space will be at a premium."

The Metisan commander nodded, relieved. "With the best will in the world," he explained. "The bulk of the force will be needed here; to defend the Gate and protect the Interim Council. Until we can get the ancient defences working, we remain vulnerable from space, and the people are in turmoil. But I can find you a dozen, and the best that I have to offer."

"Thank you, Karabos," Archimea said. "We may have need of your defence force here at the Gate also," she added, laying a hand on his arm.

"General Hammond," Major Wade asked. "Should we secure a perimeter here?"

"No need," Hammond replied. "We shan't be staying. But keep a watch on the Gate in case any unfriendlies come through."

"Yes, Sir."

"Archimea; Karabos. How long will you need?"

"I will have all that you require in one quarter of the dial," Karabos promised.

"Three-and-a-half of your hours, General," Archimea explained. "According to Daniel Jackson's reckoning."

Hammond nodded in satisfaction. "Thank you, Strategos," he said. "Your assistance is most appreciated."

"As was that of your SG-1," Karabos assured him.

*

P2H-119

Tarsus

After the lushness of Metisa, the barren surface of Tarsus was a horrid contrast, and a strain on the senses. Winds howled over the bare, lifeless ground, whipping up fine yellow sand to sting the eyes and burn the skin. The Tarsus system's sun burned hot and white through the ravaged ozone layer, setting up a sallow glare from the jaundiced ground that, while not dazzling in its intensity, was almost painful in its very colour. Even forewarned, wrapped in scarves and goggles, the small group who stepped from the Gate were almost overwhelmed by the bleak atmosphere.

The Marines hunkered down, used to adverse weather, but the ten Metisans – carrying between them five heavy crates – were more perturbed, clearly unused to anything so harsh and desolate.

Up ahead, a dark shape loomed, distinguished from the dark shapes of the shifting dunes by the sharpness of its outline, and the lights on its underside. Waving the others to follow, Hammond moved towards it, and as he approached a brighter light appeared, as a hatch opened in the side of the small ship. When he was right up close, Hammond was able to see the vessel clearly for the first time, and he was not altogether comforted by what he saw.

The ship looked somewhat like a very large helicopter, and its grey-brown hull bore the marks of many impacts and weapon burns. A number of panels appeared to have been sealed down with the interstellar equivalent of duct tape, and several others were a completely different colour to their surroundings. It stood on four thick, trunk-like stands, which appeared to also house some kind of engines, and one of them also did not match its fellows.

Rya-Nenya met them in the doorway, coat pulled tight and fastened, a scarf over her mouth and a visored helmet covering her face. The interior of the ship matched its ramshackle exterior.

"Mind your step," Rya warned as her guests trooped aboard. "Left turn, down the passage to the transport bay; I've prepped it for passengers, so make yourselves comfortable. General Hammond, Archimea; if you'd like to join us on the bridge?"

"Nice boat," Captain Parker commented.

"She may not look like much, but she's got it where it counts," Rya assured him.

"Got a name?" Major Wade asked.

"Fulminata."

Wade nodded his approval. "Too many people seem to think it doesn't matter if they don't name their ships. It's bad luck."

"You are certain this will get us to Knossa?" Archimea asked, nervously. The Sciritai did not seem much happier with the arrangements, but they filed dutifully towards the transport bay.

"Better than that," Rya assured her. "It will get you there fast, and in one piece; which is more than I can say for a lot of prettier ships."

She led Hammond and Archimea towards the front of the ship, and the bridge. The controls showed no sign of Goa'uld design, with a control yoke more akin to that of a terrestrial airliner than a teltac. The layout too was clearly not Goa'uld in origin, with the pilot's chair – surrounded by banks of controls – given pride of place, and a number of smaller acceleration seats arranged in a shallow arc around the room. There was no command seat; no throne. The front of the bridge was a window, with an illuminated HUD projected onto the surface.

"Your other half is unusually quiet?" Hammond remarked, as he sat down between Bra'tac and Jacob.

Rya hopped into the pilot's seat, strapped herself in and grasped the yoke in her right hand. With the left, she began flicking switches and referring to a readout on the main screen. Hammond did not need to know the ship or the language to recognise pre-flight checks, and he quickly buckled his own seatbelt. Seated opposite him, Archimea was doing the same.

"Nenya's a smart girl," Rya explained. "She knows well enough to leave the piloting to me; like I know to leave the politics to her." With a low rumble, the Fulminata's engines began to fire, and the ship lifted slowly into the air.

"You may find this a little rougher than your average teltac," the pilot added. She slipped a Tok'ra comms headset on and toggled a channel. "This is the peltac," she said. "All passengers secure for acceleration in ten." Rya turned to Hammond. "I assure you however, that you will be quite safe."

"Safe, perhaps," Bra'tac allowed. "Whether you will be able to hold onto your lunch is a different matter."

"Three, two, one," Rya counted down, before easing forward a control at her left side, and the Fulminata powered forward, pressing Hammond hard into his padded chair. A noise like thunder reverberated through the hull.

"I understood we were going to make a quiet landing!" Hammond yelled above the din.

"Just give me a moment!" Rya called back, jabbing furiously at one of her control panels.

"It feels as though this vessel were about to shake itself apart!" Bra'tac noted, but about halfway through the ‘were' the noise suddenly vanished, leaving him hollering the rest across the near-silent bridge.

"Yeah," Rya replied. "Sorry about that; just a teensy technical glitch."

"What kind of ‘glitch'?" Selmak asked, warily.

"The field effectors responsible for modulating the frequency dampeners and inertial compensators failed. I've cut in the back-ups, but I'll go and take a look at the primaries once we're in hyperspace."

"Do you think that it is wise to go to hyperspace without the primary compensators?" Selmak asked.

"It'll be fine," Rya assured him.

"What happens if the backups fail?" Hammond asked.

"It depends," Rya replied. "If they cut out anything more than thirty seconds after the moment we hit the hyperspace window, we'll be fine. We'll be up to speed with neutral acceleration forces, and I'll have at least ten minutes to fix the primaries before the ship tears herself apart."

"That's what you call fine?" Archimea asked.

"Well, if it's less than thirty seconds after or before entry, the acceleration forces will crush every bone in your body before you have time to say ‘ouch', and if we were unlucky enough to lose compensation at the exact moment of entry..." Rya sucked her breath in through her teeth, like a plumber about to announce that the job is going to be more expensive than first estimated.

"What?" Hammond asked.

"The ship and everyone in it would be torn violently asunder," Selmak explained.

"Please don't say asunder," Hammond begged. "That word's always made me nervous."

The Tok'ra looked back at him. "And why worry," Jacob agreed. "We're probably just going to get smashed into a paste."

"Not gonna happen," Rya assured him. "Trust me. Hyperlaunch in ten..."

"Couldn't we repair the primaries first?" Hammond suggested.

"You said time was of the essence," Rya reminded him. "Now trust in your captain. Three, two, one."

Hammond slammed back into his acceleration chair so hard that for a moment he felt sure the compensators had failed, but after a moment her realised that what he was feeling was certainly no worse than pulling an Immelman turn in an F-4 Phantom; something that, as a conscientious and professional pilot, he had of course never done.

"The compensators held?" Hammond asked. Almost immediately the Fulminata began to shake.

"Nah," Rya replied, referring to her control panel. "But they didn't give out until we were past the critical point." She stabbed a finger onto her harness buckle, then slipped out of the pilot's chair. "I'd better get the primaries fixed. You guys just stay up here and relax."

Rya strode confidently across the bridge, acting for all the world as if the vessel were not in imminent danger of shaking itself apart, and left in what Hammond took to be the direction of the machine room.

"‘Relax', she says," Bra'tac harrumphed.

Jacob leaned across to Hammond. "Do you suppose there's a movie?" He asked.

*

True to her word, Rya had managed to repair the inertial compensators and frequency dampeners before the Fulminata’s haphazard engineering killed them all. They were now halfway through the journey, and the assault force had assembled in the transport bay so that Archimea could brief them on the plan. Only Rya was absent in body – being largely occupied with piloting the Fulminata and monitoring her engines for further glitches – although she was present in spirit through the ship's internal sensors and public address system.

Having shed the robe she wore for protection against the sand on Tarsus, Archimea now wore the same armour as the Sciritai: High boots, breastplate and shoulder guards, and a skirt of armour plates for protection, over a lightweight tunic for comfort. The ensemble left her back and arms exposed to enemy fire, as well as displaying a fair amount of leg to the world at large. Knowing the Goa’uld as he did by now, Hammond could not help wondering if the last was deliberate.

"On arrival on Knossa, we will divide into two teams," Archimea explained. "SG-3 are trained and equipped for close quarters fighting. They will accompany General Hammond, General-Ambassador Jacob-Selmak Carter" – Jacob winced – "Master Bra’tac and myself, and enter the Labyrinth through this shrine."

"Will we need to blast or cut?" Major Wade asked.

"No," Bra'tac assured them. "The passage can be opened as easily from without as from within."

"That seems an odd design for an escape route," Hammond noted.

"I do not believe it is an escape route," Bra'tac replied. "But that is not important to the plan. Please continue," he told Archimea.

Archimea nodded, gratefully. "At the same time," she said, pointing to a holographic terrain map of the target area. "Hegemon Alector will lead the Sciritai to the Chappa'ai.

"At seven-four – the fourth quarter of the seventh hour after noon on Metisa; twenty-one thirty-three by your reckoning," she explained, for the sake of the Tau'ri. "Strategos Karabos will open the Chappa'ai on Metisa and connect to Knossa. At that moment," she told Alector, a very serious-looking young man. "You will strike from the flanks, eliminating the guards and taking control – if possible – of their weapon mounts. Once that is done, signal Karabos, and he will send reinforcements through the Chappa'ai."

"You'll have to act quickly," Hammond pointed out. "This guardhouse holds another twenty-four Jaffa; maybe more. If you can take the energy cannon before they realise it, you'll have a much better chance of dealing with them."

Alector nodded. "We can also set up tacs outside the doors," he noted. "They will not hold them forever, but may buy us some time."

"We have tacs?" Bra'tac asked.

"Six tacs, eighteen shock grenades," Archimea acknowledged, gesturing to the Sciritai's crates. "In addition to staff weapons and zat'nik'tels."

"Your militia is well-armed," Bra'tac noted.

"We were required to defend Metisa from any other Goa'uld who might seek to take her from Minos," Archimea explained. "You're welcome to any of the weapons you feel you might need," she added.

"Thank you," Bra'tac replied. "I shall have little use for tacs, but one or two shock grenades will make our assault that much more likely to succeed."

"While we're trading weapons, you'll probably have more use for this than we will," Wade said, proffering the LAW to one of Alector's Sciritai. "I'll show you how it works later, until then, just trust me when I tell you to touch nothing."

"What does it do?" The Sciritai asked.

"Blows big holes in heavy things," Wade explained.

"Like garrison houses?" Alector asked.

"As for example," Wade agreed.

"What happens once you take out the garrison?" Hammond asked.

"We'll hold the Chappa'ai as long as possible," Alector explained. "The Strategos can send through anti-air cannons to deal with any gliders he sends out, and we will be able to convert the Jaffa's fortifications to our advantage. Hopefully, we can keep all of Minos' forces looking our way until you signal us that you are done. If it all gets too heavy for us to withstand, we'll give you fair warning before we pull back through the Chappa'ai to Metisa. Hopefully we can still keep them tied up for a while by drawing them after us."

"We shall stay with the Fulminata," Rya chipped in over the intercom. "Give her a once over in case you need a quick get away. If anyone feels the need of air support, just give me the word."

"And these things work pretty much like our tac radios?" Jacob asked, holding up one of the Metisan communicators.

"They are fairly straightforward," Archimea assured him. They had agreed that it would be best to have a common form of communication, and the Metisan troops – or perhaps Archimea – had been foresighted enough to bring enough of their communicators for everyone.

"If all goes well, and we avoid making too much noise, then as long as the Sciritai hold the Chappa'ai, Minos will be looking at them," Archimea went on. "Or rather, his Jaffa will be. He will be ignoring everything that is occurring beyond the walls of the inner palace, as he always does. By explicit order, his First Prime is forbidden to inform him of external dangers."

"Why on Earth – or Knossa – would he give such an order?" Hammond asked.

"He did not," Nenya explained. "Pasiphae did. At one stage, he became so neurotic about the threats he perceived in all directions that he pleaded with his Queen to protect him, and she swore to take care of it for him. Now he is not informed of events beyond his immediate notice, and so assumes that all is well with his world."

Jacob shook his head. "How these people manage to rule the galaxy is beyond me."

"Badly; that's how," Major Wade asserted.

*

"Maybe I'm showing my age," Hammond admitted, settling back into his acceleration chair on the bridge. "But I'm finding this flight distinctly uncomfortable."

"Archimea seems to be weathering it alright," Jacob noted, looking across at the Metisan girl, sitting calmly opposite them. Jacob moved closer to his companions. "Does she seem a little...?"

"A little what?" Bra'tac asked.

Jacob shrugged. "Just...a little."

"You mean what in the hell is she doing here?" Hammond asked.

"That's what I was wondering, yes," Jacob replied. "She moves like she's worn that armour often enough, but she doesn't look like a soldier."

"Did either of you ask how she comes to know the internal layout of Minos' palace?" Hammond added.

"She said she served in the palace when she was younger," Jacob reminded his friend.

"Then why was she allowed to leave?" Bra'tac asked. "Minos is paranoid beyond the telling of it. The Jaffa who know the Labyrinth guide their compatriots through it, but once you are taught the secret you are never permitted to leave the palace complex again."

"You think she's a spy?" Jacob asked.

"Perhaps," Bra'tac replied. "Although she did say she does not know the maze itself. But I could not see Minos merely permitting a handmaiden to walk away with knowledge of his inner palace, and especially not one so attractive. Some Goa'uld collect beautiful objects," he added. "Others collect beautiful people. Minos was one of the latter. A girl like Archimea he would hang onto until she grew too old to interest him anymore."

Jacob shivered, knowing his daughter was in such hands.

"However," Bra'tac went on. "I sense no falsehood from her. If she is sent to lure us into a trap, then she is an excellent choice."

"Jack trusted her," Jacob said. "Jack Rede, I mean. That's usually a pretty strong sign."

Hammond nodded, concurring with Jacob's regard for the SGC junior diplomatic liaison's judgement of character. "I don't think she means us any harm," he agreed. "I'm just not sure what her motive is, and that makes it hard for me to feel safe relying on her."

"She may simply see this as the best way to safeguard her world," Bra'tac pointed out.

"But why come herself?" Hammond wondered.

"She seems to have been SG-1's guide," Jacob pointed out. "Maybe she feels she owes them. Or it's the Jackson effect again."

"The 'Jackson effect'?" Bra'tac looked puzzled.

Hammond smiled. "The effect that Daniel Jackson has on impressionable young women. Usually the ones with strong wills and half-a-dozen angry male relatives," he added. "It's possible. Anyway, I think we should keep an eye on her; make sure she doesn't hare off on some stupid..."

"What?" Jacob asked, as Hammond tailed off.

"She did say that her brother betrayed the cause," Hammond reminded him.

"Revenge is a powerful motive," Bra'tac agreed.

"Too powerful," Jacob said. "We definitely need to keep an eye on her. Unfortunately, we may well still need her to navigate inside the palace." He gave Bra'tac an enquiring look.

The old Jaffa shook his head. "I do not know the palace; only the means of passing the maze."

"Speaking of motive," Hammond added. "Do you have any idea why Nenya is helping us when the Council forbade it?"

Jacob closed his eyes a moment. "Two reasons," Selmak replied, his voice causing Bra'tac to stiffen, nervously. "Firstly, she is my sister. Secondly – and while I am somewhat the pot calling the kettle black – Rya is a terrible influence on her." He smiled fondly as he spoke the last part.

"And what is Rya's deal?" Hammond asked, tactfully steering away from casting any kind of aspersions on Selmak's sister's character, especially as he was unsure exactly how two symbiotes might be related to be considered brother and sister, when all Tok'ra were supposed to have been spawned by the same Queen, Egeria. He looked up at their pilot, and she turned and smiled at him.

"Rya's people are the Sirak," Jacob explained. "From the Creska star system. Their Stargate was destroyed over three thousand years ago, leaving their world essentially isolated. About two-hundred years ago however, the Sirak attained orbital spaceflight, and not long after they discovered that what they had taken to be an asteroid belt around their sun, was in fact a ring of space wreckage. You see, for various, pretty obscure reasons, the Creska sun is a terrible navigational hazard in hyperspace; kind of like the Bermuda Triangle. About one ship a year is lost in that area of space by one race or another – more when it's lain in the path between warring worlds – and they all end up orbiting derelict around the sun.

"The upshot of this was that the Sirak suddenly had a vast array of space-faring technology at their disposal, and from some design quirk or other, their own tech was immune to whatever effect caused so many disappearances. Pretty soon, Sirak entrepreneurs were funding rocket launches and shuttle missions, scavenging parts and building their own interstellar transports. They've kept doing it to this day, with little sign of the store of parts running out, then they head out into space and never look back."

"They never go home?" Hammond asked, confused.

"They can't," Jacob replied. "The scrap belt is the property of the Sirak King, and he has sole authority in granting salvage rights. It's too big to patrol, so people sneak in, but landing an unauthorised starship would be suicide."

"And Rya built this ship...from scrap?" Hammond asked, perturbed by the idea.

"My parents built the Fulminata's original spaceframe," Rya told him, confirming that she had been listening to the entire conversation. "They made some changes down the years, and I've made more since they...passed her on to me. Don't worry though, General Hammond. She's as steadfast and reliable as any teltac."

As if on cue, all the lights flickered out.

*

Knossa

General Hammond was pleasantly taken by surprise when the Fulminata dropped out of hyperspace with barely a shudder.

"See," Rya said. "I told you she was a good ship. Engaging cloak."

"Is that supposed to happen?" Hammond asked, as the lights dimmed and were replaced by a muted, blue glow.

"All non-essential systems are running on minimum power mode. The cloak for this ship was stripped from a defunct teltac, and it wasn't really designed to hide something this big. If I run too much power, things can leak."

"Things?"

"Energy signatures. Some day I'll get a chance to put my hands on a better cloak; something out of a ha'kal or one of Apophis' new ha'taks would need more power than my baby's got to give, but a cruiser-scale cloak would do me just fine."

"And then you'll have everything the way you want it?" Hammond asked.

"Oh no," Rya assured him. "The Fulminata is a work in progress and always will be. I'm going to risk a quick scan," she added. "Just to see...Yes; it looks as though the garrison on the Gate has been strengthened. A few more Jaffa, but mostly heavy weapons. Nothing that will give our Sciritai any more trouble than they were expecting. They'll probably be scanning for incoming vessels, so I'll bring us in over the horizon from them; set you down within walking distance."

Despite Hammond's fears, the Fulminata set down with barely a sound, the frequency dampeners muffling even the roar of the mighty engines. Once she was certain that no Jaffa patrols were coming to investigate the landing, the Tok'ra opened the hatch for her passengers to disembark.

"Remember," Rya cautioned General Hammond. "We have no way to lift you without landing. I do have a set of freight rings on the Fulminata that I stripped from that same teltac, but we had to jury-rig their systems, and even with Nenya's help, they're too temperamental to risk using in flight; especially with a living cargo."

"Don't worry," Hammond assured her. "We have no intention of needing an emergency pick-up."

The Tok'ra's eyes flared momentarily. "Good luck, General Hammond," Nenya said. "And please; keep an eye out for my brother."

"I will," Hammond promised. He turned to the marines. "SG-3; let's move out."

*

After leaving the ship, Alector and his Sciritai moved cautiously along the back of a high, craggy ridge that separated them from the Labyrinth. According to Nenya's maps, they would be completely hidden from view for most of the way to the Chappa'ai, having to emerge only for the last few hundred yards, for which they would still have heavy cover from a patch of low scrub. It was also dark, the Knossan sun dipping slowly under the horizon on the far side of the ridge, and that would help them.

Near to the end of the ridge, Alector signalled his troops to wait, and scrambled to the top of the crags. Below him, a broad valley was bathed in red-gold light, and away at the head of the valley the Labyrinth loomed, it's towering shape filled with menace, painted blood red in the dying daylight. Much nearer, just a short distance in the opposite direction from the Sciritai's location, was the Chappa'ai, and the low, dark shape of the garrison barracks at the edge of the scrub on the far side of the valley.

With a quick gesture, Alector summoned his eparchos to join him on the ridge. He was a lean, rangy man named Philemon, and he was one of the few people whom Alector would have trusted with his life.

"Eparchos," he whispered, as he drew level with him. "You will wait here for half a quarter, then move your unit down into the scrub alongside the Chappa'ai as soon as it is fully dark. I will lead the second unit around the rear and take position near to the barracks. As soon as the Chappa'ai opens, begin your assault on the guards; we will take care of the barracks using shock grenades and the Tau'ri weapon."

Philemon nodded. "Good luck, Hegemon," he said.

"And you," he replied, before sliding back down the ridge.

*

Bra'tac led the way through the bog, and Hammond marvelled at the old Jaffa's agility and speed. Jacob and the marines were keeping pace well enough, and Archimea floated over the shifting ground like an armoured butterfly, but Hammond was beginning to wonder if he might not have been better off waiting on the ship with Rya. If pressed, few people would have guessed that Jacob was – however marginally – the older of the two Generals, and that Bra'tac was as old as the two of them put together.

"Everything okay, George?" Jacob asked, stopping to let his friend catch up.

Silently, Hammond thanked him for sparing his dignity and not asking 'are you okay?'. "I'm getting too old to be running around the universe on matters of principle," he announced. "In fact, I'm not sure I'm not too old to be having principles."

Jacob frowned. "The Fulminata's still where we left it," he said. "I'm sure Nenya could use a good gunner if we need air support..."

Hammond held up a hand to stop. "I appreciate the offer," he assured Jacob. "But you know I have to see this through now."

Jacob shook his head. "Stubborn as a mule," he said.

"And you're not?"

Jacob laughed, softly. "We're not on an equal playing field here, George. My daughter's in there; yours isn't. Besides, I've a good fifty years left in me now." Jacob paused a long time. "Selmak wants me to ask..." He tailed off.

"I'm flattered," Hammond assured him. "But the answer is no. I may be getting on, but I'm not dying yet."

Jacob sighed. "You don't have to be dying, George. But you're a great leader, and the Tok'ra have a lot of respect for you. They'd like to see you go on doing what you do best. Ideally, they'd like to see you continue to lead the SGC for years to come; although realistically they recognise that the Air Force wouldn't let a Tok'ra head up a command just yet."

"It's not just that," Hammond assured him, as they resumed their course. "And it's not just that I don't much like the way the Tok'ra do things. It's Kayla and Tessa, and not being able to see them at weekends because I'm off on a different planet hiding from the Goa'uld. That and a certain aversion to having an alien mind in my head; no offence, Selmak."

"None taken," the symbiote assured him, archly.

Up ahead of them, Bra'tac had stopped, and now SG-3 were gathered with him around a small shrine. As they caught up, Hammond saw that inside was a statue of a woman, clad in armour similar to that worn by the Sciritai, carrying a shield and a spear.

"Athena," Jacob noted. "He may not have been quite quick enough, but that architect had guts; building a shrine to the Goa'uld Minos most fears over his escape route."

"I see what you meant now," Hammond told Bra'tac. "The architect must have been a follower of Athena. This tunnel was built for breaking into the Labyrinth."

Jacob nodded. "But either she never learned the key to navigating the maze, or she died before she had a chance to use it."

"How long do we wait?" Bra'tac asked.

"About fifteen minutes," Hammond replied.

*

Hammond crouched anxiously in the shadow of the small shrine, until his communication device drew his attention with a soft crackle.

"Hegemon Archimea," Alector said. "The Chappa'ai has opened, and we are beginning our attack."

"So be it," Archimea whispered back; the standard Metisan military acknowledgement. She was handling the comms for the rescue team, so that even if the signals were intercepted, Minos' warriors might take this for a simple rebel assault. It surprised Hammond to learn that she was being accorded the same rank as Alector; although clearly capable, she did not seem very much the soldier type.

"Bra'tac," Hammond whispered, redundantly, for the Jaffa veteran was already inside the shrine, pulling down hard on the age-stiffened lever hidden behind Athena's shield. For a worrying moment, Hammond felt certain that the ancient mechanism would break, but fortunately Goa'uld engineering was nothing if not hard-wearing.

With stately grace, the statue of Athena began to move, not merely sliding away, but actually stepping backwards, spreading her arms in welcome as the pedestal on which she had rested flowed away to reveal a gaping passageway, leading down into the earth.

"Stylish," Major Wade commented.

"I can't deny that, whatever their failings, Goa'uld have an impeccable sense of drama," Jacob admitted.

"The tunnel is about two miles in length," Bra'tac informed them. While we are within it we will be more-or-less safe, but once we enter the Labyrinth, you must be on your guard and remain close to me at all times. There is no telling when the passages may shift, and if you fall too far behind you may find yourself cut off and alone."

*

The Metisan attack on the Gate was timed and executed with clinical accuracy. Once the Chappa'ai was opened, Alector's team blew out the rear wall of the garrison hut with the LAW rocket and threw shock grenades through the breach. Moments later, with the actual guard unit distracted, Philemon's team hit them hard from the other side, and in moments the Gate was taken, with no Metisan casualties. When Strategos Karabos came through, Alector reported a complete success.

"Let us not sell the oil before the olives are pressed," Karabos cautioned.

"Strategos?"

Karabos sighed. "We are not done yet, lad," he said. "And from here on in it gets nasty. The Jaffa we face next will be angry, determined, and ready. We now have every advantage of position, but make no mistake; this will be a hard, ugly slog. Battles always are," he added. Having fought twice as a levy in Minos' army and survived, he was one of the few Sciritai to have any actual experience of warfare.

Alector blanched. "Sir...?"

Karabos laid a hand on his lieutenant's shoulder. "Don't go scaring the men," he said. "But I thought you should have some idea what is coming. It will take the rest of them by surprise, and I'll need you and the other Hegemons to help me stop anyone bolting. We have to hold this line, because if we do run, the only way we can go is through that Gate; if we break, we die."

Alector nodded slowly. "I understand, Strategos."

"Good lad," Karabos replied, sadly. "Good lad."

*

"Do we expect many guards?" Hammond asked, as the rescue team left the tunnel and entered the maze. The walls were plated with burnished bronze, decorated with etched murals of bullfights, battle scenes and the rituals of Minos' and Poseidon's worship. The complex was lit only dimly, and the dismal air was heightened by the constant sound of tortured stone and metal as the ancient devices swung passages, shifted walls and repositioned the deadly traps that added extra spice to the maze.

"No," Bra'tac assured him. "Minos can not have too many patrols in the maze, as they must all be taught the method of reading the paths. As so often happens to the Goa'uld, he is thwarted by his own paranoia."

"It gets busier once you leave the maze and enter the palace proper," Archimea added. "But hopefully some of the Agèmoi will be drawn off to the attack on the Chappa'ai."

"Everyone together!" Bra'tac ordered, as the floor began to shake.

The rescue team pressed back-to-back, as, with a dreadful scream, the walls shifted around them. The corridor behind them was sealed, and an exit opened in a previously blank wall ahead. For a moment, the murals literally came alive, the figures of tunic-wearing youths and maidens vaulting over the backs of the brazen bulls. Beside the new passage, a citadel under siege by Minos' forces burst into flames, then restored itself to its undamaged glory.

"Which way?" Hammond asked.

"This way," Bra'tac replied, pointing to the new opening. "If the citadel were in flames, it would lead to a trap; if it were damaged, a dead end. But when it is whole, the passage leads towards the palace. Scenes of worship or of battle lead inward, but only when no-one in the scene is dying."

Jacob nodded his understanding. "What would lead out?" He asked.

"The bulls lead out; but in that case, the more people who are dying in the scene the better. That will lead you to the main gate," he added. "If there is a code to lead you to the secret door, I do not know what it is."

"That's the system?" Hammond asked, incredulous.

"There are subtle degrees," Bra'tac replied. "Knowing more detail will help you to navigate more quickly, but the basics will get you in or out alive. Remember, Minos expected that anyone in the maze would have entered from his palace or through the front gate, so his Jaffa would always know when anyone was within."

"Is there any means of seeing what is happening within the maze?" Jacob asked. "Some sort of surveillance?"

"Not that Ariadne knew of," Bra'tac admitted.

"Sir!" Captain Parker hissed. "There's somebody moving up behind us, fast."

"Take cover," Hammond ordered. "Bra'tac; any suggestions?"

"Only not to go far, Hammond," Bra'tac replied, kneeling in the cover of the mouth of a corridor. "We should not become separated."

The rescue team waited, and after a few moments a trio of Taurus Guards rounded the corner. Their Jaffa armour was pale grey, as were the imposing bull helmets that they wore. The bulls' horns were black, and their eyes burned a menacing red.

"Aray...!" The lead Jaffa began, but got no further before Bra'tac shot him dead. His followers returned fire, but made no attempt to seek cover, and a hail of bullets from the marines sent sparks from their armour. Before Hammond could be certain if the two Jaffa had fallen however, the walls shifted once more, closing the passageway between the two groups.

"Did we get 'em?" Venn asked.

Hammond frowned. "I don't know. Let's not be here just in case. Bra'tac; let's move...Bra'tac?"

"Hammond," Bra'tac replied, from the far side of a wall that had not been there moments before. "We appear to have a small problem."

*

The Metisan Sciritai set about fortifying their position with the same quick efficiency that they had brought to the initial raid, and Karabos watched them with pride. The first order of business had been to establish a shield perimeter, using a more powerful variant of the Goa'uld personal shield to create a defensive line. Knowing the danger from shock grenades once the Agèmoi closed with the shield wall, Karabos had ordered his men to seed the approach with shock mines and tacs in a six hundred yard band, to slow their advance. Once that was done, the Sciritai had set about creating a mound and ditch behind that line, and a second in front of it, to tie down the Agèmoi as the came through the shield line. The energy cannons seized from the Jaffa were set up on the perimeter, while the anti-aircraft defences were placed well back.

Finally, a line of tacs had been placed along the ridges on either side of the Chappa'ai to protect against the kind of flanking attacks that Alector's Sciritai had launched so successfully. While the small defence drones would not stop a determined enemy, it should give the defenders some warning. Karabos had organised two units to respond to any such warning, placing them on the ends of the line. Both contained a number of his fellow veterans, whom he could be relatively certain would not break and run when isolated and under fire.

Karabos looked up and down the line. It looks like a strong defence, and it was, but he knew that it would not hold against Minos' Agèmoi. He had seen the gods' shock troops in action before; watched them advance relentlessly over open ground, regardless of casualties, overwhelming their foes by sheer force of will. Moreover, he knew that for every three Agèmoi who went down, two of them would be ready for combat by the next morning. This combination of total fanaticism and an incredible healing rate was a large part of the Agèmoi's effectiveness, but there was one more factor.

Fear.

Karabos knew that his troops were brave, but that the sight of the Taurus Guard advancing under their bull-helms would sap their morale. Once the enemy were close enough, it would matter little that their shots could not pierce the shield; fear alone would make men leave the line and flee. No man wanted to die on a distant planet, away from their loved ones. To attempt to remedy this, Karabos had done two things. Firstly, he was maintaining an open wormhole to Metisa. This gave the Sciritai a place to retreat to, and also prevented Minos calling in reinforcements from off world, but it also presented the troops with a tangible objective: To stop the Agèmoi from reaching their home.

Secondly...Secondly he had done something that just a week before might have provoked his officers to mutiny. He had brought women onto a battlefield.

Not as soldiers of course – after several centuries of oppression, the women of Metisa could not, however willing, be trained to Sciritai standards overnight – but women were traditionally excluded from the field altogether. Even to have women – or respectable women anyway, as opposed to such prostitutes as were brave or foolish enough for the risky trade of professional camp follower – working as cooks and messengers went against Metisan tradition. But what Karabos was banking on was that the presence of the women would be a further reminder to the Sciritai of what they were fighting for. Moreover, having gained more in this revolution than the men, the women might be more reluctant to flee, and the Sciritai would not leave them and run away.

"Is everything in readiness, Hegemon?" Karabos asked Alector.

"We are ready," Alector replied.

Karabos winced inside, knowing how wrong Alector was.

"I hope they are coming," Alector added. "If they do not come, then the rescue team will be in grave danger," he added, in response to Karabos' scowl. "I do not crave battle, Strategos," he assured the older man. "But we are supposed to be a decoy."

Karabos nodded, sombrely. "Have no fear on that score, Hegemon Alector," he said, nodding his head towards the bend in the valley which marked the end of their line of sight. "They are here."

Alector turned as the first Agèmoi rounded the bend. At this distance, they were merely towering figures with a menacing silhouette, but that was enough to send a ripple of concern along the line as the troops caught sight of them. Karabos raised a field glass to his eye, and studied the enemy. There were three Taurus Guards to start with, one wearing the gold-faced mask of a First Prime. Then more came, massing at the bend, in sight of the enemy, but well out of range.

A staff blast from one of the Sciritai flashed along the valley, fading to nothing before hitting the side of the valley, almost a hundred yards short.

"Hold fire!" Karabos ordered. He raised his glass and looked out across the no man's land again.

A slim, masked woman, seated on a field commander's palanquin – a mobile throne-cum-command centre – had joined the First Prime. As soon as the palanquin stopped, she sprang lightly from her seat, and now stood, looking back at Karabos. Slowly, Karabos raised her fist to his heart in salute, and after a moment, the woman returned the gesture.

Karabos lowered the glass.

"To your post, Hegemon," he ordered. "And no-one is to fire until the enemy are within one hundred yards."

"Yes, Strategos," Alector acknowledged.

Xenarchos, the First Prime of Minos, looked at the Goa'uld standing beside him in surprise. "Madam?" He asked.

"This promises to be interesting," Medusa commented, lowering her hand from the salute, before raising it again to run the fingers through the thick mass of tendrils that covered the back of her helmet like hair. The snarling, demonic face of her mask revealed no emotion, but she sounded pleased.

"Shall I order the Taurus Guard to lead the attack?" Xenarchos asked.

"No," Medusa replied. "Send a messenger into the hills, and bring me two hundred sheep."

"Sheep, Madam?"

"Sheep, First Prime."

*

Hammond pressed against the wall that stood where Bra'tac had been moments before. "Is there any way to open this?" He asked.

"None," Bra'tac replied. "Continue to follow the signs," he suggested. "As I showed you. Eventually we should both find our way to the inner palace."

Jacob nodded. "So we meet up there?"

"Too dangerous to wait," Bra'tac replied. "Once you arrive, go on to the dungeons. I have my own business here anyway."

"Bra'tac?" Hammond asked, in a cautionary tone. "Remember what we were saying about revenge."

"It is not revenge," Bra'tac assured him. "Merely unfinished business with my tek'sha'tal...as the Tau'ri say it, father-in-law."

"I thought you couldn't find you way around the palace," Hammond said.

"To the dungeons? No. But I am well aware of the route to the arena, and Minos will be there sooner, rather than later."

"Bra'tac..."

"You waste time, Hammond of Texas," the old Jaffa reminded him. "Go now, and I shall hope to find you again when we are both done."

"Wait!" Archimea called out. "I have...unfinished business with Minos as well."

Hammond looked at Jacob and raised an eyebrow.

"It will take too long for us to try to meet up," Bra'tac replied. "And you are the only one who can take Jacob and Hammond to the dungeons. I have fulfilled my role in your plan. You must do the same before you can be free to go about your own affairs."

"You're right," Archimea sighed. She looked around at the murals. "We go this way now?" She suggested.

"That's what I make it," Jacob agreed.

"Then let's go," Hammond said. "See you on the other side, Bra'tac."

"Good hunting, Hammond."

*

"Strategos...?"

Karabos looked at the woman standing beside him. Her name was Penthesilea, and although not the oldest of the women who had volunteered to come through the Chappa'ai with his expeditionary force, he had judged her to be the most steadfast; the least likely to panic and run. Karabos knew her from their membership of the New Academy, and knew that she – like Archimea – had disguised herself as a man to move abroad. Although Penthesilea had never completely denied her female identity, she knew more of the world than most Metisan women, and probably understood the world better than most Metisan men. Mindful of her strengths, Karabos had assigned her to keep watch on the enemy while he saw to the defences, and she had calmly reported every movement made by the Goa'uld commander and her Agèmoi. Now, for the first time, she sounded confused.

"What is it?" Karabos asked, at the same time raising his own glass.

"Sheep, Strategos."

"Sheep?" Karabos asked. Then he saw them, hundreds of sheep, being herded around the bend. "Oh well; I hoped they would try at least one advance before they spotted the minefield. Stand ready!" He yelled.

"Why sheep?" Penthesilea asked him.

Karabos shrugged. "I guess that they could not find enough peasants," he said. "They will drive the sheep forward," he explained, in response to the woman's questioning look. "Across our killing zone. That will set of most of our shock mines, and show them exactly where our tacs are positioned. We'll also have to spend time shooting any sheep that gets through, since we can't really afford to have them running past the line and gambolling about back here."

"Is there a way to deactivate some of the devices?" Penthesilea asked.

"We could transmit a jamming signal," he suggested. "The same signal that our communicators broadcast to keep the tacs from firing on us, but more powerful. But why only some?"

"They are looking for devices to fire," Penthesilea explained. "If they see none they will be suspicious. But if they see some..."

"They will advance," Karabos agreed. "And find a number of devices still functioning. Penthesilea; I would never have suspected you of such deviousness."

"I shall take that as a compliment," she said.

"It was meant as such," Karabos assured her. "Find Dekarchos Lycaon; he is in charge of the communications equipment. Tell him what you need, and tell him to do it fast, Eparchos."

"Eparchos?"

"Well, I can't have a civilian giving orders to my dekarchoi," Karabos pointed out.

"Of course not, Strategos," Penthesilea agreed.

As she turned to go, Karabos shook his head. I'm going to get lynched, he thought to himself.

Medusa sat back in her palanquin, and looked out across the great expanse of wool and mutton with satisfaction; the Taurus Guards had done well, for once. All in all, she had never been that impressed with her master's Jaffa, but they were at least good at following orders. Finding this many sheep at short notice could not have been easy, but unlike peasants, sheep were too dumb to hide.

Medusa beckoned idly to the leader of her personal guards; her Gorgons. The man approached, his hideous mask a pale reflection of her own.

"Send in the sheep," she ordered.

*

After a time, the rescue team came to a door. It was the first actual door that they had seen since entering the Labyrinth, and as Major Wade so succinctly said, it was a doozy.

Twelve feet wide, and easily half as high again, the door was framed in marble, and the surface was bronze inlaid with gold. Even if the bronze were only plated over wood, the doors must still have weighed several thousand pounds. The gold inlay traced out images like those on the walls of the maze: Bullfights, bull-dances, sacrificial rituals and triumphant armies. It was a truly magnificent sight, and General Hammond felt a fond pang at the thought of how much time Dr Jackson would have spent poring over a video of the gates; had he brought a video camera to make such a record.

At each side of the door was a Taurus Guard, or at least Hammond assumed that the second man was a Taurus Guard. He wore no helmet, nor even the collar from which a Jaffa helm would expand, but the was a collar lying beside his prone form.

"Is that...?" Hammond asked.

"The collar of a Serpent Guard," Jacob confirmed. "Looks like Bra'tac beat us here."

"What gave it away?" Wade asked, kneeling by the guard who still wore his helmet and probing the deep blast wound in his abdomen, looking for signs of life. "Clean through the pouch," he said. "From standing right in front of him," he added, noting the spread of blast-burning across the armour of the Jaffa's torso. He looked around, taking the lay of the land. "He must have just walked out in front of them and shot them both."

"He's good at what he does," Hammond agreed.

"Guy must have balls of solid steel," Wade remarked, in an awed tone.

Archimea raised a questioning eyebrow at the turn of phrase.

"I'll...explain later," Wade assured her.

The Metisan woman shrugged. "If he was disguised, Master Bra'tac may have bluffed his way past the guards on the other side," she said. "In which case they will still be there."

"How many?" Jacob asked.

"Four...I think. It used to be four. At this door they were not so worried about people going in as people going out. Perhaps if you were to lead here, Strategos Jacob..."

Jacob nodded his understanding. "I'll go in first," he agreed. "Selmak can give them a hit of the voice to put them off-guard, then you lot follow up and take them out as quietly as you can."

"Once they realise that the guards on this door are dead or missing, the Agèmoi will be on alert," Archimea said. "Fortunately however, there are few patrols in the palace halls; Minos prefers to keep as few armed men around him as possible. We may have as much an hour – by your reckoning – or as little as ten minutes. It will take us ten minutes to reach the dungeons from here, but if we take the perimeter passage clockwise, we'll meet the patrol coming, so we can make certain that they do not report in.

"Once we reach the dungeons, Major Wade's men can secure the entrance while we find SG-1. After that, you need only make a swift exit."

"You seem well acquainted with strategy," Hammond observed, as she led them around the outer circuit of the palace.

"I have studied," she assured him. "When Poseidon destroyed the Academy buildings, it went underground. Teaching was passed on by word of mouth, and we recreated what books we could; keeping the old learning alive. I was well schooled in military science and engineering. When I was a man," she added.

"It's easy to see you also have some military training," Hammond added.

"All males between the ages of fifteen and thirty-five were expected to participate in training as Sciritai," Archimea explained. "In case the Lord Minos called upon Metisa to supply levies for his army. Was there anything else you wanted to know?" She asked, eyeing him shrewdly, but without obvious offence.

"Why are you here?" Hammond asked.

"I owe SG-1 a debt of honour," she replied, after a long pause. "And I have...other business of my own, that I shall not concern you with."

Hammond stopped walking, and turned towards Archimea. She did likewise, and the rest of the team came to a halt with them.

"It's already my concern," Hammond told her, in a soft voice that held a hint of steel. "If you have another agenda, I need to know about it."

"It is none of your business."

"So long as my men are on this mission, anything you plan to do while you're here is absolutely my business," he assured her.

Archimea tried to meet Hammond's eyes and failed. "I'm here to rescue a friend," she told him, awkwardly. "I swear, that's all."

"Look at me."

Archimea turned to face the General, and he looked her in the eyes for a long, pregnant moment.

"Let's go find SG-1," he said at last. "Then we'll look for your friend."

*

They reached the dungeon without encountering the patrol. As they dragged the bodies of the guards out of sight, Archimea reminded Wade that this meant they would almost certainly come along while she, Jacob and Hammond were searching for SG-1's cell.

"Don't worry," he assured her. "We'll be watching your backs."

"I would rather you were watching the stairs," she said.

"I'll bear that in mind," Wade replied.

The dungeon was set below the main palace, and entered by means of a stone staircase. At the bottom of the stairs was a small courtyard, with alcoves for the guards to stand in, out of sight of anyone descending. One of the Sciritai's shock grenades had taken care of that problem, and now they had the advantage that the patrol would quite possibly walk straight past and never know that anything was amiss. They would come back once they found the gate abandoned, but the rescue team would have a little more time.

Directly opposite the stairs, a heavy, iron door led to the dungeon proper, and Hammond led the way through. He flicked on the torch attached to his P-90, and moved carefully along the corridor. He estimated the passage he was in to be at least a hundred yards long, with eight doors opening off it. Each door had a grilled Judas window, and a heavy bar supplementing a formidable-looking lock. The corridor was cramped, so Jacob and Archimea left their staff weapons outside and drew their zats.

"Anyone want to guess?" Hammond asked.

"What say we try door number one?" Jacob suggested.

Hammond walked over, peered through the Judas window and called out: "Colonel O'Neill!"

"General?"

Hammond turned. The voice had come from behind him, and sounded distant. "Colonel! Where are you?"

"Ah...We're in a hole," Jack O'Neill replied.

"Keep talking!" Hammond said. "We'll find our way to you!"

"I think they took us through the third door on the right," Jack told him. "But I can't be sure."

Archimea checked the grill, shining a torch through the bars. "There's no-one in there," she reported.

"No; that's the one," Jack confirmed. "I can see the torch beam. See that grill in the floor? We're under there."

"I see it," she replied.

"Is that you, Archimedes?" Jack asked.

"Archimea," she corrected him. "Long story." She stood back, and fired three times into the door. The zat blasts flickered through the metal, and the door disintegrated.

Hammond followed the girl into the cell, and saw the grill Jack had spoken of. It was about two foot square, and metal. "Would you care to do the honours?" He asked Archimea.

"Certainly," she replied, levelling her zat.

"If you're about to do what I think you're about to do; don't," Jack said.

"Why not?" Hammond asked.

"The grill is composed of Kandrite," Teal'c's voice announced. "A highly expensive trinium alloy. It is impervious to the effects of zat'nik'tel fire, and there are cables leading from the grill to the water that we are standing in."

"They gave us the full demonstration when they brought us in here," Jack added. "There should be a panel in the wall by the door; that's what they used to open it to put us down here. It also expands the ladder so we can get out; we're about twenty feet below you still."

"This must be the panel," Jacob called from behind them. "But I don't know how to operate it. It seems to be locked using a code."

"Would the guards know the code?" Hammond asked.

"No time," Archimea said, walking to the panel. She entered a series of characters, and after a moment, the grill lifted up.

Hammond gave her a curious look, but after a moment turned back to the grill. He shone his light down, and saw a ladder extending toward the floor of the oubliette, where two upturned faces looked back at him.

"Where are Major Carter and Dr Jackson?" Hammond asked.

"They were taken to the arena," Jack replied, climbing as fast as he could. "About half-an-hour or an hour ago."

"Nearer to an hour-and-a-half," Teal'c corrected him. "We must go after them at once."

"Absolutely," Jacob agreed. "I don't know how long they'd survive in a Goa'uld arena. They could be..."

"Take heart, Strategos," Archimea said. "Minos does not care to rush his blood sports. They will be held in readiness for some time, to work up their fear, before he calls them into the arena. We will have time," she assured him.

"Why were you left?" Hammond asked.

"We're the main event," Jack replied. "Carter and Daniel were the warm-up; along with Philip and Alexos."

"No!" Archimea gasped.

"I'm not shedding any tears for them," Jack assured her.

"Philip is still my brother, Hegemon O'Neill."

"Still...It is Archimedes!" Jack exclaimed. "Since when are you a girl?"

Archimea sighed and rolled her eyes. "Can we discuss this later?" She asked.

"Sure," Jack agreed, but as they left the cell, he turned to Teal'c and whispered: "Did you know she was a girl?"

"Was it not clearly apparent to you, O'Neill?"

"I'm always the last to know."

*

Medusa watched the battle unfold before her. So far, the spectacle was not making her happy. That the Metisans had been cleverer than she gave them credit for was one thing; that was her mistake and she would have to live with it. That the Jaffa under her command had allowed them to capitalise on that mistake was what irked her. She had given strict orders that if resistance across the minefield remained high, the Jaffa warriors and Taurus Guards were to fall back, but instead that fool Xenarchos had lost almost a quarter of his force trying to carry the charge on raw enthusiasm and bloody-mindedness. The only silver lining on that cloud was the fact that the First Prime had been one of those killed, and once he had finally died the remaining Taurus Guards pulled back.

"We could attack along the ridges," Xenarchos' temporary replacement suggested. "Take them by surprise, from the flanks.

Medusa settled back in her palanquin, and smiled behind her impassive mask. She liked how this Jaffa thought. "A cunning ploy," she said. "One few Jaffa would consider. But these are not Jaffa, and the ridges will be mined as heavily as the field. It was well-thought though," she added, not wishing to discourage innovation among her warriors. No; it is time to try something different."

She held out her hand, and the communication screen flickered into life before her. "Icarus," she said, and after a moment a man's face appeared.

"Madam," the man said, the Goa'uld thunder in his voice at odds with his immediate deference. Icarus, Master of the Udajeet, was a tremendous coward, but Medusa respected him for his skills as an engineer.

"Send your hawks to me, Master Icarus," she commanded. "I have need of them."

"They've fallen back," Alector gasped.

"This isn't the end," Karabos assured him. He was standing with the young Hegemon on his right and Penthesilea on his left. In their initial rush, the Agèmoi had come within three hundred yards of the shield perimeter, and destroyed most of the tacs up to that point. The Metisan line had held, but that might not keep if they came any closer. He did not think the Agèmoi's commander would try the same tactic again, but he had no doubt that she had others.

"What will they do now?" Penthesilea asked.

"Now they will send the Udajeet." Alector and Penthesilea looked at him, blankly.

Karabos' brow furrowed in concern. "The death gliders."

*

The great bullring of Knossa was almost completely enclosed within the Labyrinth, open to the sky only at the crown of the fortress, three hundred feet above the arena sand. The arena was one hundred yards across, and had four doors. The smallest door was the captives' entrance, while a larger door admitted the Jaffa who fought in Minos' name. A might gate was the beasts' entrance, and none entered by the final door; the door through which the dead were removed. There were few seats, the arena being intended solely for the entertainment of the Lord of Knossa and his family. The only viewing points were in fact the royal gallery, and the nine alcoves from which nine Minotaurs stood watch over the proceedings.

In the gallery, a high-sided box, projecting from the arena wall some twenty feet above the sand, Minos sat on his great throne, wrapped in an ivory robe and adorned with gold and jewels. He was dark of complexion, and handsome in an almost boyish way. His hair fell in thick curls below his ears, and his mahogany skin was smooth and flawless. Despite the apparent youth of his host, he had a regal, patrician bearing, but his eyes belied his calm, darting hither and thither as though assassins lurked in every shadow.

To Minos' left, robed in red and gold, sat Pasiphae, his Queen, a woman of near-inhuman beauty and a demeanour that showed she knew the quality of her charms. Her hair was darker than her Pharaoh's, but her skin was fairer. The smile that played on her blood-red lips was cruel, and her coal-black eyes held not a shred or flicker of compassion. Even her bearing was that of a creature alien to humanity, bereft of empathy or kindness. Unlike her husband, if there was fear beneath her air of calm, she gave no sign, and with her more mature looks, she gave every sign of being the dominant partner in this couple.

Between the two sat a girl; young, slender and beautiful: Ariadne. Her skin and hair were of the same hue as Minos', but her eyes were green, the only legacy of her mother. Although she did not know it, Ariadne's mother – a slave claimed by Minos on an expedition of conquest thirty years ago – had died on her natal bed; slaughtered to appease the jealous wrath of Pasiphae, and purchase her daughter's life with her own. Her face was a picture of the sympathy and compassion that Pasiphae lacked, and to her father's intense dissatisfaction, she had once more defied his edicts and worn the black of mourning to his entertainments. Also as usual he could not bring himself to punish his favourite; his Ariadne. One day he might find a new favourite, and then she would be granted no such mercy.

In the ring, four prisoners fought; or rather, three fought and one cowered. The former Tyrant of Metisa, Alexos, appeared to have no stomach for battle, even in his own defence, and he hid as best he could behind the two Tau'ri and the traitor, Philip. Armed with small shields and short swords, the prisoners were battling four of Minos' elite Taurus Guards, each of whom carried a long spear. It should have been a quick and easy victory for the Jaffa, who had the advantage of reach, armour, and superior strength, but the three warriors had quickly adapted to the weapons and conditions at hand.

Philip and the Tau'ri male, Doctor Jackson, stood either side of the female, Major Carter, shielding her from the spear thrusts of their attackers. The three of them moved as a unit, turning to keep the Minotaurs from surrounding them. The female would wait, allowing the men to protect her until an opening presented itself, at which point she would strike with impressive speed and accuracy. One of the Jaffa fell quickly from a sword thrust through the thigh, and after a long standoff a second was cut deeply along the ribs. Both lay groaning in the sand, but the Tau'ri made no attempt to finish them.

A spear stabbed out, but overextended. Philip and the female grabbed the spear between them, and Jackson drove his shield into the Taurus Guard's face. The Minotaur went down. The trio backed swiftly away from the remaining Jaffa, and although he scored a grazing hit along Philip's ribs, he was soon at bay, and a pair of quick cuts from the two Tau'ri saw him fall alongside his comrades.

"How bad is it?" Daniel asked, as Sam took advantage of the brief respite to examine Philip's wound.

"No worse than I deserve," the Metisan gasped.

"Shallow, but long," Sam said. "He's losing a lot of blood." She tore a long strip from his tunic for a bandage.

"Let me be," Philip groaned. "I die the traitor's death I deserve."

"Oh don't be such a drama queen," Sam replied, impatiently. "The two of us won't last a minute out there on our own and you know it, so you just hold it together."

"He looks pretty mad at us," Daniel noted, staring up at Minos.

"He'll kill us all!" Alexos raved. Somewhere around the time of his arrest, the former Tyrant had gone completely to pieces. "It's all your fault! You have brought the rage of the Gods upon us!"

"Would you give it a rest!" Daniel snapped, finding it hard to apply his habitual compassion to Alexos. The man was beyond pathetic, and the fact that he had spent the past who knew how many years as Minos' chief extortionist did little to endear him.

Minos glowered down into the arena. "Send in more warriors!" He commanded, in a powerful voice.

"No!" Ariadne cried.

"Silence, whelp," Pasiphae hissed, venomously.

Minos growled angrily at his Queen, before turning to his daughter. "Do not speak out of turn, my dear," he said, gently.

"Please, Father. Show mercy. They have proved their strength; could they not serve you?"

Minos sighed. "These are enemies, Ariadne; not sacrifices. They will not serve."

"Pitiful mortal," Pasiphae sneered. "You will never walk as a God if you can not overcome such weakness."

"Pasiphae..." Minos cautioned.

The Queen's eyes flashed dangerously, as though she might meet her husband's warning with anger, but instead she settled into her seat. "Perhaps you could win their freedom," she told Ariadne. "What say you, husband? Shall I fight the girl for the fate of these criminals and blasphemers?"

Minos shot Pasiphae a withering glance. He knew that the only thing that his Queen enjoyed more than watching the blood sports in the arena was to take part in those sports herself. Violence was her passion, and her art. She was not a warrior, skilled in combat, nor was she a gifted torturer, but she delighted in tormenting and toying with a weaker opponent in the controlled climate of the ring. It was this pursuit that she had perfected until it was a dance; a poem spoken with blade and blood. Ordinarily, Minos enjoyed watching her bloody recitals as much as Pasiphae delighted in performing them, but not with Ariadne.

"I shall become angry with you, Pasiphae," Minos said, his voice hard.

"Forgive me, Lord," she murmured, casting her eyes demurely downwards.

"That you must earn," he told her.

"I look forward to it," she assured him.

Between them, Ariadne squirmed, acutely aware that her father's anger over Pasiphae's mistreatment of her did not last as long as it used to. She had become aware some years ago that her time in this world might be short, and two of her father's mistresses were pregnant. She knew that she might do well to conform to her father's wishes and pander to Pasiphae's vanity, but somehow a life lived that way no longer seemed worthwhile.

"Where are my warriors!" Minos demanded.

Ariadne looked down into the arena, and saw that the four prisoners still stood alone in the centre of the sands. Her heart went out to them, and she wished she could do something for them, but her father would not accede to her wishes this time, and even if he would allow her to fight Pasiphae for their lives, she knew she was no match for the Queen.

"Where are my warriors!" Minos bellowed again.

At last, the warriors' doors opened, and a Jaffa strode out, but it was immediately apparent that he was not one of the Taurus Guard.

"I am afraid that your warriors are indisposed, mighty Minos," the Jaffa said.

"Bra'tac!" The woman called out.

"Greetings, Major Carter," Bra'tac said. "I had not expected to find you and Dr Jackson here."

"What are you doing here?" Daniel asked.

"Kill him!" Minos cried out.

"One moment," Bra'tac said. He sidestepped a pair of staff blasts, and snapped off two return shots. Moving in seemingly random circles, he turned the staff weapon in his hands like a baton, firing wildly. He fired nine shots in total, and one by one the nine Taurus Guards fell to the sands.

Bra'tac was unharmed.

"I have come to rescue you," he told Daniel, as though he had not just broken off the conversation to kill nine elite Jaffa warriors. "Your father is here," he added, inclining his head towards Sam. "And General Hammond. Also, I have business of my own."

"Who are you?" Minos roared, beside himself with fury.

"I am Bra'tac! Formerly First Prime of Apophis, and now a Free Jaffa! A century ago I was a captive here, before your daughter, Ariadne freed me, and I took her from this place to my home on Chulak! I am your son in law, Father!" He finished.

As he spoke, Minos had been turning a darker and darker shade of purple in his fury, and now his eyes blazed with incandescent rage. "I will see you dead!" He roared.

"The come down here and fight me," Bra'tac offered. "I challenge you, Minos. False God. Come, prove your worth if you have courage enough!"

Minos stared at the Jaffa for a long moment, and then he laughed out loud.

"A clown!" He declared. "There is a clown to participate in my entertainments. How quaint." As suddenly as he had begun, his laughter stopped. "Send in the beast!" He ordered, and the massive gate of the beasts' entrance began to rise.

*

Archimea positively flew through the corridors of the palace, quickly outpacing the heavily-laden Marines, and General Hammond found himself feeling his age again. Fortunately for the Metisan woman, Jack and Teal'c were unburdened by anything more than a zat gun each, otherwise she would have been in serious trouble when she ran slap bang into the circuit patrol. Rounding a bend, she collided with the Taurus Guard leading the patrol. He wobbled, and she bounced off him and hit the floor hard.

"Kree!" The Taurus Guard commanded, recovering his balance while the Jaffa at his sides levelled their weapons at her. She barely hesitated, raising her zat'nik'tel and blasting the Minotaur. Moments later, Teal'c stepped around the corner behind her and zatted one of the Jaffa, and Jack followed to drop the second. Three more blasts ensured that the patrol would not be raising the alarm, and Archimea was ready to hare off again when Jack grabbed her by the arm and forcibly restrained her.

"Let go of me!" She demanded. "There's no time to waste!"

"Getting there alive isn't a waste of time," Jack admonished her, as SG-3 caught up with them, followed more slowly by the two generals. "And if you get there way ahead of us, they'll just kill you and be ready for us when we show up."

"I'm sorry," Archimea grumbled, with ill grace.

"Where exactly are we going?" Hammond asked.

"The royal gallery," Archimea replied. "That's where we'll find Minos."

"Sam and Daniel..." Jack began.

"We can not fight Minos' army," Archimea insisted.

"But cut off the head, and the Serpent shall die," Teal'c said.

"Exactly."

"Then by all means lead on," Hammond agreed, a little breathless. "Just not so fast."

"You're not getting to old for this stuff, are you?" Jack asked, in a 'perish the thought' tone of voice.

"If I wanted to run around," Hammond replied. "I would have joined the Army."

*

The gliders were not getting the job done. The Metisan anti-air cannons were too effective for them to do more than scatter the line, only for it to reform, and even these small successes were costly. Medusa pursed her lips behind her mask and thought hard.

"Icarus," she said, reactivating her transmitter.

"Yes, Madam."

"Recall your fighters; all save one. I have a very special assignment for one of your best pilots."

Karabos scanned the horizon as the last of the death gliders disappeared.

"Strategos!" Penthesilea gasped, pointing.

At the woman's side, Alector gaped. "By the Gods."

Karabos followed their gaze. "Get them clear," he ordered. "Get them clear! Everyone move aside!"

The Strategos ran down, physically herding the Sciritai away from where they stood, dumbstruck, at the centre of the shield barricade. "Move!" He roared.

The lone death glider swung low over the valley, shrugging off staff blasts, then dipped and drove itself deliberately into the valley floor. It skipped once, then turned completely over, before erupting into a ball of flame that ploughed a wide furrow in the earth, carelessly scattering tacs and mines, and finally tearing through the shield perimeter as though it were parchment.

Half-stunned, Karabos forced himself into action. He reached out and grabbed a convenient Sciritai. "Gather the wounded," he said. "And take them back through the Chappa'ai." He turned to Alector. "Rally every able-bodied man to the breach; we must hold as long as we can."

"Strategos?" Penthesilea asked. "What about us?"

"You must return with the wounded," Alector insisted.

"Strategos?" Penthesilea repeated, ignoring the Hegemon.

"Penthesilea," Karabos said, speaking slowly, as though he himself were unsure what the words were doing emerging from his mouth. "Issue the spare staff weapons to the women who are fit for battle. We need everyone we have," he told Alector, cutting off the younger man's protests.

"Whose command will they come under?" Alector demanded to know.

"Hegemon Penthesilea," Karabos replied. "Congratulations," he told the woman. "Two field promotions in a day; I believe that is unprecedented."

"Thank you, Sir," Penthesilea said.

"Oh, don't thank me," Karabos told her. "By the end of the day, you may curse me for this."

*

The creature that emerged from the beasts' entrance was so massive that for a moment neither Sam nor Daniel could identify it. The shape was familiar to them of course, but their minds rebelled at the sheer size of the brute. Not even the manliest of Texas ranchers could have boasted of raising an animal of such dimensions.

"Now that," Sam said. "Is a whole load of bull."

"Is he not magnificent?" Minos asked, rhetorically.

The creature must have weighed at least three and a half thousand pounds. Its hide and hair were black as coal, its dark eyes shone with malevolent intent, and the horns that spread in a foreswept horseshoe, perhaps five feet in span, were polished white. It gave a thunderous snort, and pawed the ground angrily.

"This is a mark of my favour," Minos explained. "A gift from my Lord Poseidon. I shall enjoy seeing him destroy you." At his side the two women had stood; Ariadne held a hand to her mouth in horror, while Pasiphae leaned forward in eager anticipation of the kill.

"You shall not see it, False God," Bra'tac promised, turning his staff on the Goa'uld and firing.

Almost idly, Minos raised his hand, and the blast glanced from his shield. With a sharp cry, Ariadne spun and fell, as the blast pierced her shoulder. Bra'tac winced at his mistake, distressed that his wife's successor – an innocent, most likely – had been struck in Minos' place.

"No!" Minos roared, furious.

The Goa'uld touched the back of his hand device, and the bull gave a bellow of pain. Its eyes burned white, and with a snort of rage it began to move towards the prisoners. At first, it managed nothing more than a slow trot, but with each step it gathered speed, and Daniel did not need Sam's head for figures to realise that with its vast mass it would not need to be going very fast to do them a serious injury.

Bra'tac turned and fired. The blast struck the bull in the shoulder, but it barely registered the injury.

"Ah...run?" Daniel hazarded.

"Good plan," Bra'tac agreed.

*

By the time that the rescue team arrived at the door to the royal gallery, Hammond was looking clearly the worse for wear. He insisted however that he did not need to be coddled.

"How do we open this door?" He puffed.

"Minos' personal code," Archimea replied, stepping to a panel beside the door and stabbing at the symbols.

"How do you know..." Jack began, but the door opened and Archimea was already through before he could finish.

With a muttered curse against all civilians, Major Wade strode through the door after Archimea, but was immediately thrown back into Captain Parker as a ribbon wave broke over the doorway. From the gallery, they heard Archimea cry out, and Jacob leaped through, followed by the remaining marines.

In the royal gallery, Minos stood with his back to the door, leaning on the railings. Pasiphae had turned however, and was standing over Archimea with her hand spread  in threat, the stone in her hand device just beginning to burn with the energy that would scorch the Metisan woman's brain. Her shoulder smoking, Ariadne lay on the floor by her fallen chair, clearly in shock.

"Get up!" Pasiphae demanded of Archimea, oblivious to anything else. "Get up and fight me!" She reached out with her right hand, and dragged Archimea to her feet, then drove a vicious punch into her stomach.

"Stop!" Ariadne cried out.

Pasiphae released Archimea, who staggered but by sheer willpower kept her feet. She turned to issue a mocking challenge to her foster child, but as she did so she saw the Tok'ra for the first time.

"Tok'ra? It can not be!" She protested, in disbelief.

"Yes it can," Selmak assured her, throwing out his hand and sending the Queen flying over the gallery railing.

"No!" Minos roared in pure fury, turning his anger on Selmak, and then it was Jacob's turn to be blasted backwards. His impact against the wall was softened by the two marines, but he ended up with two M4 carbines poking uncomfortably into his spine.

Minos raised his hand again as another enemy entered his gallery, but too slowly. A solid right connected with his jaw, and he dropped to the ground.

"I'm not too old for this," Hammond told him, emphatically, as Jack and Teal'c followed him in, fanning out to cover the stunned and startled Goa'uld.

Jacob clambered wearily to his feet, and moved to the railing. Looking over, he saw Pasiphae lying in a heap at the foot of the wall, but his attention was wrested from the Queen's corpse by the sight of the battle going on in the centre of the arena.

"Sam!" He cried out.

*

The prisoners made quickly for the warriors' gate, which still stood open from Bra'tac's dramatic entrance. Unfortunately, the bull seemed ill-disposed to let them go, and changed direction to cut them off. They scattered and ran, Daniel half-carrying Philip, as the bull began another charge, but Alexos froze in terror. Sam began to go back for him, but realised almost at once that there was no point; she would never have reached him in time.

The bull struck the former Tyrant hard, driving him off his feet. A gout of blood splattered from his throat as one of the great horns pierced his body, then the creature bucked its head, sending him spinning wildly through the air, limbs flailing like a rag doll. Sam tasted bile in her throat as the bull caught the falling body and threw it again, realising that it was playing with Alexos. Even as the Tyrant fell again to break on the bull's brow, he was still trying to crawl free; he was still alive.

Bra'tac shot the beast again, then Sam heard her father's voice, and a pair of zat blasts struck the bull from above. Still it showed little sign of injury. It turned, still wearing Alexos like a wreath, and glowered at Bra'tac with its beady eyes.

Sam narrowed her eyes, shrewdly. Shrugging off a staff blast was unlikely, but could be put down to simple native toughness. Shrugging off two zat blasts...that spoke of deliberate tampering. While there were races who were immune to the disruptive effects of the zat'nik'tel, domesticated cattle were not among them, which meant that this bull was unusual – nay, abnormal – in more than just its size.

With a shrug of its head, the bull shook Alexos free and began stomping slowly and purposefully towards Bra'tac. The old warrior squared off to the beast, and with a start Sam realised that he actually intended to fight it hand-to-hand if it came for him.

The bull stopped. It shook its head, seemingly confused and frightened. It stamped its hooves, then began to twitch and buck, as though trying to rid itself of an unwelcome burden, or as if in great pain.

"What's it doing?" She wandered aloud.

"It might be a form of adrenaline shock," Daniel offered, dragging Philip towards Sam. He stopped, and sniffed the air. "Do you smell..."

"Roast beef," Sam agreed. "But what could be making it...Oh. My. God," she whispered.

*

"Ari!" Archimea stumbled forwards and fell to her knees beside Minos' daughter, tears welling in her eyes. She reached out and gingerly touched the smouldering blast-wound in Ariadne's shoulder. "Oh, Gods; you're hurt. Lie still," she cautioned, as the girl tried to force herself to her feet. "You're weak."

"You came back," Ariadne whispered, reaching out to touch Archimea's face. "I feel strong enough to run."

Hammond looked over at Jacob. "We were way off," he admitted.

"Oh yeah," Jacob agreed, before returning his attention to the arena. "George," he said, his voice filled with concern.

"What's wrong?" Hammond replied.

"I don't know," Jacob admitted. "But Sam and Daniel just started running for the exits, and Sam was shouting: 'Get out, Dad; it's gonna blow'."

"That's enough for me," Hammond agreed. "Teal'c; pick up Miss Ariadne. We're leaving."

"Yes, General Hammond," Teal'c acknowledged.

Ariadne seemed somewhat taken aback to be gathered into the arms of a Jaffa, but Archimea took her hand, and she relaxed.

"You shall not take my daughter!" Minos roared, raising his ribbon device, and Lieutenant Venn shot him in the chest with a short burst from the M4.

"Sorry," he told Ariadne.

The girl looked conflicted. "I...It's probably better this way."

Archimea closed her hand gently around Ariadne's fingers.

Jack moved to the railing and looked down. "Now there's something you don't see everyday," he admitted, as heavy smoke rose from the bull, which was by now bucking wildly up and down on the spot. "Shake a leg there fellas."

With barely dignified haste, they left the gallery and began descending the stairs, and moments later a massive explosion sounded behind them. The floor shook, the lights went out, and a pall of white smoke belched through the door and rolled over them.

"It smells like someone's having a barbecue," Jack remarked.

At that moment, the communicator in Hammond's ear hissed, and as Archimea seemed somewhat preoccupied – and secrecy somewhat redundant – he responded himself. "This is Hammond," he said.

"General," Strategos Karabos replied. The line was clear, the communicator filtering out background noise, but Hammond knew the voice of an embattled commander when he heard one. "Our line has been broken, and we are retreating through the Chappa'ai. If you're not already on your way out, I recommend you start now."

*

"Final reserve, fall back!" Karabos ordered, sending all but the last handful of veterans running, crouched low, for the Chappa'ai. "That includes you two!" He reminded Alector and Penthesilea, both dug in behind the wreckage of the death glider and maintaining a withering fire at the Agèmoi who advanced relentlessly on their position.

"With the Strategos' position, we'd like to stay until the end," Penthesilea replied. Her face was grim, but determined; Alector's the same. They both looked about twice as old as when he had stepped through the Chappa'ai to Knossa a few hours ago.

Karabos sighed; knowing that staying would be a death sentence. Without anyone to cover them, the last few Sciritai would never make it to the event horizon alive. On the other hand, he doubted that they would be convinced to go now. "Granted," he said, reluctantly. He took a small device from his belt. It had only one button, and only one purpose: to deactivate the beacon which kept a continuous signal flowing between Knossa and Metisa.

As the last Sciritai stepped through the Chappa'ai, he pressed the button.

"It has been an honour to fight beside you," he assured his followers. Behind them, the Gate closed.

"Here they come!" One of the veterans called out, as another wave of Jaffa – these wearing hideous, snarling demon masks, rose up behind the Minotaurs and pressed forward.

Karabos set his face in a determined frown to hide his fear, and stepped up to their cover. "For Metisa!" He cried, and the Sciritai echoed the call.

*

"Dad!"

"Sam!"

Jacob ran to his daughter and caught her in a fierce hug, at the same time trying to surreptitiously check her over for major injuries. So far as he could see there were none, although the man hanging on to Daniel seemed the worse for wear.

"Holy Hannah, Sam," Jacob said, shaking his head. "What did you do in there?"

"Nothing," Sam replied, sounding hurt at the suggestion any explosion must be her fault.

"It must have been Poseidon," Daniel said. "Looks like someone thinks that Minos has been a naughty minion."

"It was the bull," Sam explained. "It had been...altered, made more fierce, immune to pain, zat blasts and so forth, but that was all window dressing."

"For what?" Jack asked. "No wait!" He added. "A bomb; right?"

Sam nodded. "Something naquada-based, but not with a sufficient mass of the mineral to make Minos or Pasiphae suspicious; he probably passed it off as part of its alterations. When the beast got angry it started to go into adrenaline shock, and the rising epinephrine levels were probably the trigger, or even the catalyst, for the explosive. That way, Poseidon could be sure it would go off when Minos was watching it in the ring."

"What about the lights?" Hammond asked.

"It probably released some kind of EMP when it detonated," Sam replied.

Daniel frowned. "It's very cruel though," he said. "Using a poor animal like that."

"Abominable," Jack agreed.

Jacob fixed the Colonel with an icy glare. "George; remind me why we rescued these characters again?"

Meanwhile, Bra'tac had approached his former pupil. "Teal'c," he greeted the younger warrior. "It is good to see you well."

"Master Bra'tac," Teal'c returned. "It is always good to see you."

Jack started as Nenya's voice squawked from the Metisan communicator at General Hammond's belt. "Selmak; General Hammond."

"Who's that?" Jack asked.

"Go ahead, Nenya," Selmak replied, stepping away from Sam a little.

"Can you return to the bull ring?" The Tok'ra woman asked. Selmak looked to Sam, who shrugged.

"Probably," Sam replied. "Although the passages might not be safe."

"You shall have to risk it," Nenya told Selmak, when he had relayed the information. "It is the only place where I can collect you, and we must go now."

*

Karabos fell to the ground, his body wracked in agony as the zat blast arced through him. At his side, Alector and the other Sciritai had suffered a similar fate, while Penthesilea had taken a staff blast to her abdomen. He found it hard to believe that his forces had suffered such light casualties as they had done, but aside from the six lying here with him, only one man had been lost before the main body made it out through the Chappa'ai; only a handful more seriously wounded.

"Watch them," the leader of the Agèmoi ordered, and her soldiers spread out to stand guard over the writhing Sciritai.

Karabos saw a zat, lying not far from his hand, and with a great effort he managed to grip the handle. As he struggled to raise the weapon however, the Goa'uld saw the movement. She strode quickly across to him, and pressed her booted foot down on his forearm.

"Don't be a fool," she told him. "You lead these?"

"Yes," he gasped.

She took her foot off his arm and kicked away the zat. "You fight well," she told him. "Exceptionally well. I did not know that the Metisans still practiced the warcraft taught to them by Pallas Athena."

"If you attempt to attack my world, you will be destroyed," Karabos told her.

"Maybe," she allowed. "What is your name?"

"Strategos Karabos."

"I would very much like to speak with you, Strategos Karabos," she said. "There is nothing in this world that I value more greatly than a skilled opponent. Surrender to me, and give me your word you will not try to escape, and I will spare your soldiers and permit them to return home."

Karabos considered the options for a moment, but only for a moment. Pride was one thing, but the lives of his troops were his sacred charge. Even if the Goa'uld betrayed him, he must do all that was in his power to protect them. "I give you my word," he said.

The woman crouched beside him, and touched the stud at the side of her collar. The demonic visage melted away, and Karabos expected the face beneath to be similarly hideous. The reality took him by surprise, and made him catch his breath. It was not that she was stunningly beautiful, but nor was she ugly. She had a pleasant,  narrow face, with olive skin and blue-black hair, cut in a style that made her look almost like an unusually pretty boy. She was also less tall than she seemed with the helm up.

"Who are you?" Karabos asked.

"I am Medusa," she replied.

*

Philip was getting heavier, Daniel was sure of it. "Archimea," he called, softly. "Could you give me a hand?"

"Of course," she replied, slipping a shoulder under her brother's arm. "Lean on me, Philip."

"Archimea?" He murmured. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. Leave me here; I am done for. I shall die the traitor's death I deserve."

"He keeps going on like this," Daniel explained.

"You are returning to Metisa, Philip," Archimea told him. "To answer to our people."

"I only did what I thought was best," he protested. "I thought that Minos' wrath would destroy our people."

"I...I know," she assured him. "But you should have had more faith in your people's strength."

"I'm so sorry."

"Oh, snap out of it," Archimea demanded. "Stop being sorry, and come back to Metisa with me and answer for what you did."

"Alright," he agreed. "Will they kill me?"

"Not if I can help it," she replied. "But they might, in spite of me. If they don't stone me to death first," she added in a whisper.

Despite Sam's fears, the tunnel proved quite stable, but emerging into the arena gave her more to worry about.

"We're supposed to fly home in that?"

"It's better than it looks, Major," Hammond assured her.

Rya stood at the top of the ramp, beckoning them to hurry.

"What's the rush?" Jack asked. "I don't think the Jaffa are really bothered about us at the moment."

"Ha'tak vessel," Rya told him. "Came out of hyperspace ten minutes ago, just after the explosion took out the forcefields and most of the air defences. With nothing to get in its way, it'll be here in about..." She broke off as a loud klaxon wail sounded inside the barge. "Inside; now!"

Daniel and Archimea lugged Philip to the passenger section and strapped him in. Teal'c set Ariadne gently down beside him, and Archimea hovered between the two while Jacob fetched a healing device from a storage locker. The marines hastened to buckle up, fearing another lift-off like last time.

Hammond followed Rya to the bridge, with Jack and Sam following in his wake. The Fulminata shivered as she lifted off, but to the General's visible relief there was nothing more than a slight vibration.

"Is the cloaking device operational?" Hammond asked, worried that for all of the ship's important systems to be working at once was asking a little too much of providence.

"Ah...It'll have to do," Rya replied, referring to a readout.

"It'll have to do?" Jack parroted.

"Well, it's leaking a little, but I can't shut it down to make adjustments, can I?" Rya retorted, pointing out of the forward screen as the massive bulk of a ha'tak vessel filled the window.

"How close...?" Sam began.

"Too close," Rya assured her.

"Who is it?" Hammond asked.

"Poseidon," Sam guessed. "Am I right?"

"You are," Rya agreed.

"I guess Minos has been a very naughty minion," Jack said, as the ha'tak vessel cruised past them, heading for the Labyrinth.

*

Medusa looked up as the mothership hove into view in the distance. "Well," she said to Karabos. "This does put a different complexion on things." She turned towards the captive Metisans, and raised her staff weapon, levelling it in Penthesilea's direction.

"No!" Karabos cried out, struggling to rise, but before he could find his feet the tip of the staff snapped open and Medusa fired. The energy blast hit its target, searing through armour and flesh, and the Taurus Guard standing at Penthesilea's side dropped to the ground, dead.

Karabos gaped in amazement, but seemed no more startled than the Minotaurs. After a moment, they began to fumble their weapons to firing position, but by then it was too late, and Medusa's Gorgon-masked Agèmoi had cut them down.

"What...?" Karabos managed.

The Gorgon Guards backed slowly away from the still-kneeling Sciritai, keeping their staff weapons levelled.

"Matters beyond your ken, sweet Karabos," Medusa assured him, reaching down and lifting him the rest of the way to his feet. "But matters greatly to your advantage. You and yours have gained a reprieve, Strategos," she explained. "Be on your way. I pray that we shall meet in battle again some day."

"You are releasing us?" Karabos could not believe it.

"I am...postponing our conversation until after our rematch; whenever that may be." She leaned towards him and laid a soft, burning kiss on each cheek. "Until the next time, Strategos."

With that, she raised her helm, backed away, then turned and was gone, running alongside her warriors towards the Labyrinth. Karabos watched her go, and slowly raised a hand to his cheek.

"Strategos?" Alector asked, uncertainly.

"Open the Chappa'ai," Karabos ordered, feeling rather shell-shocked. "We are going home," he added, his voice certain. Despite the confidence he feigned for the troops however, he did not feel safe until he was back on Metisa, and the Chappa'ai had closed at his back.

*

"So," Jacob said, sitting beside Philip and passing the healing device over his body. "Do you want to tell us about it?"

"About what?" Archimea asked.

Jacob raised an eyebrow and looked at Ariadne. "About how you know Minos' codes; and how you know his daughter."

"I...was chosen for the teind, seventeen years ago," Archimea admitted. "I was nine when I was chosen, sixteen when I was taken. I was pretty, and I performed well in the bull dance when I was called upon to entertain the gods. As a result, I was the only one of the fourteen taken to be spared. Pasiphae wanted to kill me, but Minos' daughter was lonely, and he wanted someone to keep her company; I was given the job. I was to be her handmaiden and her companion; and when necessary her whipping girl.

"I hated her at first," Archimea admitted. "Because of what she represented to me. I wanted to hate her, and I tried very hard to keep hating her, but she was nothing like her father. She was sweet and kind, and so very gentle. We became friends...then more than friends. We were careful to hide how close we had become, but not careful enough.

"When he found out that we had become lovers, Minos decided that I was a corrupting influence on his daughter. He had me imprisoned, and granted Pasiphae permission to fight me in the arena."

"To fight you?" Jacob asked. He stood and moved from Philip's side, to tend to Ariadne's staff-burn.

"It was not to be so much a fight as an execution. A slow death by Pasiphae's knives, for her pleasure and Minos' entertainment. Ariadne rescued me and got me away; she bribed a Minotaur to get me to the Chappa'ai and back to Metisa. There, Philip helped me to create a new identity as a man, and for four years I was, Archimedes; our cousin from the provinces."

"Why didn't Ariadne run away with you?" Hammond asked. "Like Bra'tac's Ariadne?"

"Run away to what?" Archimea demanded. "Just loving each other would have made us outcasts on Metisa. Any...physical expression of our feelings would have been a stoning offence."

"In which case, why go back for her now?" Jacob asked.

"Ah," Daniel said. "That might be my fault."

General Hammond gave the young archaeologist a weary look. "Confusion abounds and it might be your fault, Dr Jackson? Surely not."

"I told Daniel about my life," Archimea explained. "All the things I couldn't tell one of my own people. He was so easy to talk to; so kind and understanding."

"That's how it always starts," Hammond agreed. "And the next thing you know, SG-1 are running for their lives."

"That's not fair!" Daniel protested. "Teal'c..."

"It is indeed an inaccurate generalisation," Teal'c agreed. "Sometimes we are captured without having a chance to run."

"Oh. Thank you, Teal'c," Daniel said. "You're a stand-up guy."

"So what was it this time?" Hammond asked Daniel.

The archaeologist sighed. "All I said was that on our world, people aren't so closed-minded."

"I thought that if I could get Ariadne away from her father, we could seek sanctuary on Earth," Archimea finished, looking hopefully at Hammond.

"I'm done," Jacob announced, stepping away from Ariadne's side. "But she'll probably sleep for a while now."

"Thank you," Archimea said, with great feeling. She took Jacob's place, gently lifting her lover's hand into her lap, then looked up at Hammond. "Do you think it would be possible?" She asked, and Hammond saw clearly that this meant everything to her.

"I can't make any promises," he told her. "But you wouldn't be the first aliens to take refuge on Earth, and I'll put in a good word for you."

"Thank you," Archimea whispered, barely choking the words past her tears of gratitude.

"Don't thank me yet," Hammond cautioned. "It's far from a done deal, since I could be facing a court martial myself. Besides; if you're taking Dr Jackson as a representative of Earth, I think you might be disappointed."

Daniel blushed and looked down at his boots.

"Hey, kids," Jack's voice crackled from the intercom. "And also General Hammond, Sir; not meaning to class you as one of the kids, as it were."

"And I am?" Jacob asked.

"Whatever. Anyway, the important thing is that the mothership doesn't seem to have seen us; either that or they're not interested. Either way, we're pretty much home free, so sit back and enjoy the flight."

*

With the power out in the Labyrinth, it was impossible to ring down, and so a teltac flew from the hangar landing in almost exactly the spot which the Fulminata had so recently left. The hatch opened, and a pair of Taurus Guards emerged, their armour a gleaming, pearl grey, the horns on their helmets burnished gold. They were followed by a powerful man in ceremonial armour and a blood-red cloak, wearing a fur cap on his head and a satisfied expression on his face. Behind him came a woman, clad in Goa'uld finery, but with a half-mask hiding the left side of her face. A Taurus Guard walked at her side, and two more followed behind.

"Poseidon! Damn you!"

The Jaffa turned as one, levelling their weapons at the figure that staggered through the broken warriors' entrance. Minos' skin had grown pale, and his torso was soaked in his own blood. A human would long ago have succumbed to the cluster of bullet wounds in his abdomen, yet he was a Goa'uld, and made of sterner stuff, managing to hold a staff weapon straight despite the pain that he was obviously in.

"You have killed my Queen," Minos hissed, the fury in his voice and eyes beyond all reason.

"I had hoped to kill you with the bull," Poseidon replied, with calm and casual malice. "If the fair Pasiphae is dead, then it is as a result of your treachery."

"My...?"

"Did you think that you would take us unawares?" Poseidon demanded, angrily. "Did you believe that we would not see the forces that you were massing to overthrow us?"

"Sire..." Minos begged. "It is not true."

"Not true? I have seen the evidence with my own eyes! I myself questioned your captured captain, who told me – in between his pleas for death – of the orders you had given him through your harlot, Medusa. That our palace was to be scoured clean of life, our Queens slain, our spawn destroyed; even our wise counsellor, Mentor" – the woman inclined her head in self-deprecation at the compliment – "to be flayed alive, ripped from her host and brought to you that you might sup on her wisdom. And that we were to be taken and held, that you might unleash your bitterest torments upon us!"

Minos stared at his master in open-mouthed amazement, unable to comprehend what he was saying.

"Well, your plot has failed, your captains are dead, and your ships are ours," Poseidon continued. "Now, you will envy the swift death of Pasiphae. I only wish that we might have taken her alive," he added, smiling a predatory grin. "We had heard that she could be most...appreciative, and were eager to test her faithfulness to your memor..."

At the mention of his dead Queen's name, Minos grew very quiet and still, although Poseidon failed to notice it. As the Sea God continued, Minos' hands tightened on the grip of his staff weapon, and when he heard his beloved bride defamed, something snapped inside him.

One of the Taurus Guards saw the threat, but Minos ignored the staff blast that scorched his shoulder and neck, and fired straight into the centre of Poseidon's malevolent smirk. Moments later, three more staff blasts tore into Minos, and he staggered. A second volley left his torso in tatters, and at last he fell, the lead Taurus Guard stepping close to the body, and blasting the life from the still-twitching symbiote.

Poseidon flailed wildly, his symbiote living still, but unable to properly control his host with the damage it had suffered. "Arrr...hahihuh," he rattled, through the ruin of his face. "Eh he ah ah ahhahihuh."

The leader of the Taurus Guards leaned down to lift his master. "We must get Lord Poseidon to his sarcophagus," he said. "Quickly..."

He broke off, as a staff blast took him through the spine, sending a gout of bone and blood and purple symbiote ichor spraying from his stomach. The other Taurus Guards began to turn, but Medusa killed another, and her Gorgons settled for the last three, leaving only Mentor standing. The Counsellor had about her still an air of serene calm, despite the deaths of all of her bodyguards and the imminent demise of her master.

"Fools," Medusa spat. "To enter an enemy stronghold so brazenly." She stalked over to Mentor, all but ignoring Poseidon, who continued to flap and spit blood. "So this is the fabled Mentor, whose wisdom is only slightly less famed than the beauty that was destroyed to appease the five Queens of Poseidon and win a place in the Sea God's service. Five Queens," she mused, looking down at Poseidon. "That must be exhausting for you."

"Ah eh uh!" Poseidon raged.

Medusa turned back to Mentor. "May I look upon your ruined beauty, oh wise Mentor?" She asked.

"If you wish," Mentor replied. She reached up to her brow, and touched a stud on her tiara, causing her half-mask to withdraw, in the manner of a Jaffa helm, into the golden band.

"I think your sacrifice was exaggerated," Medusa admitted.

"Ah!" Poseidon cried out. "Ih ah eh!"

The left side of Mentor's face was as beautiful as the right, and completely unmarked.

Medusa dropped her act, and reached up to touch the flawless cheek with great reverence. "I knew you would return," she said. "I never doubted."

Mentor placed her hand on Medusa's head in benediction. "I know, my faithful servant. You have done well, and I am pleased with you. Take back your name, Nike; and be no longer Medusa."

Nike's face split with a beaming smile of pure joy.

"Uh ah uh?"

"Do you not know, Poseidon?" Mentor asked, turning back to the maimed Goa'uld. "Do you not recognise me, even in this host? I would know you anywhere, brother."

"Uheh-ah!"

"I am touched," Athena told him. "Truly." Then she gave a small sign, and Medusa's staff weapon spoke, tearing through the symbiote.