Where the Heart is

by The Prophet (prophet@phlegethon.org)

Complete
AU, Action/adventure
Sequel to Far From Home
Jack/other, Sam/other
Season 4
FR-C+
Mild violence, Part One of a two part fiction

Disclaimers:

Where the Heart is - Part 1

Jack O'Neill was never thrilled when events conspired to take him into the infirmary at the SGC, since it usually meant one of three things: Either he had been shot, stabbed, bludgeoned or infected with an alien virus; or one of his team had been shot, stabbed, bludgeoned or infected with same; or Dr Fraiser wanted to run yet another barrage of tests on the SG field teams to see if Gate travel caused cancer, or brain damage, or cooties. Any which way, he did not like being there.

Today's visit however had all others trumped, because not only did he not feel he needed to be in the infirmary, he was not even supposed to be in the SGC. He had been rudely recalled from a hard-earned, Thanksgiving fishing trip by a USAF Lieutenant in a helicopter, and informed that SG-1 had been assigned a top-level mission. Only when they were airborne, with no way for Jack to escape, did the Lieutenant start referring to it as a top-level diplomatic mission. Jack had been livid. SG-1 were not a diplomatic team, and he had gone out of his way to provide the Lieutenant with an object example of the reasons why this was so.

His arguments - and even a few direct orders - had been of no avail. General Hammond had ordered SG-1 recalled for a diplomatic assignment, and so it was.

On arrival at the SGC, he had learned that the assignment had been transferred from SG-2, under his old comrade and friend, Louis Ferretti, due to that team's 'incapacity'. That was why Jack had come to the infirmary: to give Ferretti a piece of his mind. Dr Fraiser gave him five minutes, and since none of Ferretti's team had actually died, Jack wound himself up to deliver as much abuse as possible in that short time. That was before he saw Ferretti.

"Hello, Colonel," Ferretti said.

"Ferretti?" Jack asked, uncertainly.

Ferretti smiled. Or at least Jack thought he did; all he could see was the Major's eyes, and that made it a little hard to be sure. "Yeah; it's me. Sorry I'm not saluting, by the way." Ferretti wore a plaster mask over much of his face, and a cast on his right arm.

"What happened to you?"

"Got caught in the opening blast from a staff weapon. Flash-fried my face; third-degree burns all over. Doc says it'll heal up okay, but I ain't pretty at the moment."

"You're never pretty," Jack quipped.

"Last mission turned into a real furball," Ferretti went on. "A whole gang of Jaffa turned up on the planet right after we did. We had to blast our way out."

"You were just trying to get out of this diplomatic thing, weren't you?"

Ferretti raised his hands as much as he was able. "You got me, Colonel. I got my entire team shot full of holes on a barren rock just this side of Hell to get out of babysitting an ambassador to a paradise planet."

"Paradise planet?"

"P4G-128," Ferretti replied. "Arcadia. Ain't you been briefed yet?"

"Thirteen hundred," Jack replied. Suddenly this didn't sound so bad.

"So you haven't met the new girl?" Jack raised his eyebrows, questioningly. "Good kid; did well under fire. You'll like her." There was an almost mischievous note in Ferretti's voice.

"What...?" Jack began, but Dr Fraiser stuck her head around the corner of the screen at that moment.

"Time's up, Colonel. Major Ferretti needs to rest."

"Just one second," Jack replied. "Ferretti, who's this..."

But Ferretti assayed an exaggerated yawn under his plasters. "Sorry, Colonel," he said. "Gotta get my rest; doctor's orders."

"Sleep well," Jack said. "Hey, Doc: How long before he's well enough for me to punch him?"

"A while yet," Dr Fraiser assured him, steering him away from the bedside. "Now out. You're always eager enough to leave when I want you to stay in here."

"Did you meet the ambassador yet?" Ferretti called.

"Nuh-uh."

"Oh. You'll really like him," Ferretti assured him, with a laugh.

Jack strode into the briefing room, and greeted his assembled team.

"Hey Daniel; Teal'c; Cart..." He did a double-take. "You're not Carter," he told the woman sitting at the briefing table.

"Sam's still on leave," Daniel explained. "Remember, Dr Fraiser said she had to take at least two weeks?" Jack nodded, slowly. He did recall something of the kind. Dr Fraiser had been on both Carter and Daniel's cases about the amount of 'leave' they spent working eighteen hour days in the SGC labs, tinkering with alien artefacts, and deciphering the instructions telling you not to tinker with the alien artefacts respectively; and all too often in that order.

"Then why are you here?"

"I had to take at least a week; that ran out two days ago, so they were able to recall me." Daniel actually sounded excited at the prospect of a diplomatic mission, which made sense. It gave him a chance to talk to people and study their culture first hand, which was pretty much his idea of heaven. This scared Jack, so he turned his attention to the strange woman. She was wearing a USAF uniform, and her hair was cut in a chic, just-barely-regulation style, a lot like Carter's, and from the back the mistake was easy enough to make. However, her hair was much darker, and her pips were those of a lieutenant, not a major. She was also maybe ten years younger than Carter, and presumably was Ferretti's 'new girl'.

"So if you're not Carter, who are you?" Jack asked.

The woman stood sharply to attention, suddenly enough to make Daniel jump, and snapped off a quick salute. "Kawalsky, Sir; Lieutenant A. SG-2, on temporary assignment to SG-1."

Jack looked over the ramrod straight figure, taking in the mischievous curl at the corner of her mouth, while he tried to mentally strip another ten years off her age. "Amy Kawalsky?"

"Sir; yes, Sir."

"At ease, before you break something," Jack replied. Amy Kawalsky sat back in her chair. "Weren't you in pigtails, last time I saw you."

"No, Sir," she replied. "Last time would be Charlie's memorial service. I had a ponytail." Of course, Jack thought, remembering the sad, sombre girl standing beside her mother, at the memorial service of Major Charles Kawalsky; Jack's best and oldest friend. Kawalsky had died while serving in the position Ferretti now filled; killed by Teal'c after his body was taken over by a Goa'uld. Having died on active duty with a covert unit, the full details of Kawalsky's death had never been released to his family, but presumably Amy would have been made aware of them at the time of her assignment to the SGC. Jack was surprised that she could sit so calmly - cheerfully even - in the same room as the man who killed her brother.

"Amy will be taking Sam's place on SG-1 for this mission," Daniel explained. Daniel must have met Amy at the memorial service. Although he had only known Kawalsky for a few days, it had seemed appropriate that he be there, along with Jack and Ferretti; the only other survivors of the mission to Abydos. He had been - apart from Amy - the only civilian at the service. The Kawalsky's were an Air Force family; father, mother, and Amy's six brothers all.

"Well; welcome aboard," Jack said, a little tightly. Daniel gave him a troubled look, but at that moment General Hammond entered the briefing room. Jack and Amy stood to attention; Daniel and Teal'c just stood. The General was followed by a woman in a severe, charcoal grey suit. She had dark brown hair gathered back into a tight braid, wore a pair of large, wire-rimmed glasses and carried a briefcase. She certainly looked the part for the diplomatic corps, but she seemed too young to be the ambassador. Besides; hadn't Ferretti said O'Neill would like him.

"As you were," Hammond ordered, settling his heavy frame into the top chair. The woman sat on his left, facing most of SG-1 as they took their seats. As soon as she was seated, she took a file folder from her briefcase and set it precisely square to the table edge in front of her. "I'm sorry to have to call you in from leave, Dr Jackson; Teal'c. But this assignment is considered to be of the utmost importance."

So what am I, Jack wondered. Chopped liver?

"This is Ms Jacqueline Rede, our Junior Diplomatic Liaison," Hammond continued. "Who will be accompanying you to P4G-128."

"Ah, nuts," Jack muttered, under his breath.

"Is there a problem?" Hammond asked, pointedly.

"No, Sir," Jack replied, with false brightness. "Just raring to take another civilian on an off-world jaunt. Y'know; because it always works out so well."

"I assure you, I won't be a burden, Colonel," Ms Rede said, primly. "On the contrary, I think you will find my assistance invaluable." She pushed her folder crooked, then set it straight again. "Besides which, P4G-128 is quite safe." Jack groaned. "What?" Rede asked.

"Just...Never say that," Daniel advised. "It's bad luck." Rede looked sceptical. "No; really. It never fails."

"Can we have a tank for this mission?" Jack asked. "Do we have any tanks?"

"No tanks, Colonel," Hammond replied. "And you will listen to Ms Rede, and follow her advice. That's an order."

"Yes, Sir," Jack responded.

"Good. Now, Dr Jackson, would you proceed?"

"Uh. Sure," Daniel replied. "I mean I haven't had much time to prepare for this, but..." He shuffled through some papers on the table, his stack of notes a disordered clutter compared to Rede's obsessively straightened folder. "Yes. Arcadia - that is, P4G-128 - was first contacted about two months ago by SG-2. The continent on which the Stargate is located has a mixture of temperate forest and grassland. Rich ecosystem, low pollution; basically a nice place to live. The locals are humans, and call themselves Thebans. Thebes was an ancient Egyptian city, but named after a Greek city-state, and in this case the society seems to have a Greek basis, but with considerable independent evolution. Generally their technology is less advanced than Earth's, but they seem to have access to an abundant, clean, low-maintenance power source.

"Until recently they seem to have been ruled by a Goa'uld named Helios." Daniel turned to Teal'c for expansion.

"Helios was a servant of Cronus; a very minor one," the Jaffa told them. "He was once in high favour, and was given the governorship of Arcadia, a very popular Goa'uld hunting preserve at the time. However, Helios mismanaged the planet's resources, and its value to the Goa'uld was used up when the numbers of game species fell. Cronus suffered a loss of prestige when no other System Lords wished to visit Arcadia. He was displeased with his servant, and Helios was forbidden to leave the planet again; forced to live with his failure. Most of his forces were given into the command of Cronus' other servants."

"Well, Arcadia is a region in ancient Greece, famed for its pastoral beauty and frolicking shepherdesses," Daniel continued. "Which seems appropriate for a planet that was basically a Goa'uld pleasure park. It is also widely associated with various fringe historical theories regarding the Catharist heretics and the Knights Templar, which even I think are pretty far fetched. Although if anyone sees any Maltese crosses or severed head symbols, let me know.

"But I digress. The Arcadians were fairly glad to see the back of Helios, but they really don't know where he went or why..."

"Which is where we come in," Rede interrupted. "The ruling council of P4G-128 want to make an alliance with the SGC. They want our help in protecting the planet in the event of Helios' return, and in understanding the technology that powers their cities."

"City," Daniel interjected. Plainly annoyed by her interruption, it came out rather snide. Rede looked just as aggravated to be caught out on this point. "There's only one city in the region ruled by the Theban Heptarchy, and the rural communities aren't on the power grid. Also, the Heptarchy are a local, not a planetary government. We haven't had any chance to explore more than a few miles from the Gate."

"City; thank you Dr Jackson," Rede amended, frostily. "Under Helios, the generators were maintained by Jaffa engineers, and the Heptarchy are worried that now they will degrade. They would also like our assistance in expanding the existing distribution grid to the outlying agricultural settlements. These negotiations are to establish what - if anything - they can offer us in return."

"Well, that's all very nice," Jack replied. "But I think we'd better leave the negotiating to the Ambassador. Maybe you should just save the details for him."

"We have, Colonel O'Neill," Hammond assured him.

"It seems that the Thebans are not unaware of interplanetary affairs." Rede continued, smiling just a little too much. "In the formal request for negotiations sent by the Heptarch, paragraph five states: 'The Heptarch asks that the Tau'ri assign as ambassador, if at all possible, the famed and respected negotiator, Colonel Jack O'Neill. It is the Heptarch's feeling that the man who negotiated his planet's inclusion in the Protected Planets Treaty would be considered a most trustworthy emissary by all of our people.'"

"No. Way." Jack faced Hammond squarely, trying to ignore Daniel's barely contained mirth at this new development.

"I don't recall asking your permission, Colonel."

"With all due respect, General, when I negotiated that treaty, I almost took the planet to war with my opening address."

"Which is why Ms Rede has been assigned as your diplomatic aide," Hammond explained.

Rede smiled brightly at Jack, and his dislike of the woman slid up another notch. "I told you that you would find my assistance invaluable," she said, either braver than she looked or oblivious to the dangerous gleam in Jack's eye.

Daniel evidently spotted the look, because he intervened with a slight cough. "The Heptarchy," he said, anxious to change the subject. "Is a council of governors. Formally, there is a ruling couple - the Heptarch; a man who is responsible for foreign and military policy, and the Pythoness; a woman responsible for domestic and religious policy - and seven elected magistrates who form a sort of legislature and supreme court, and who have to approve all of the policy decisions made by the rulers. Each of the magistrates is elected from a different district: three from the city, and four from the rural areas."

"Doesn't sound like a very fair split," Jack commented.

"The rural areas are more sparsely populated," Lieutenant Kawalsky informed him. "But the breakdown is largely according to tax districts, which are set out by revenue. Although the economy is primarily agrarian, the traders and landlords are mostly resident in the city, for reasons of status, and because that's where the action is - politically speaking. Thus the city is richer than the farming communities, and contains much smaller tax districts. Sir," she added, almost as an afterthought.

"That's a pretty complex analysis for a soldier," Jack commented.

"I took my degree in political and social anthropology before I joined the Air Force, Sir," she replied, undaunted. "Minored in geoeconomics."

"Most of what I have on this culture comes from Lieutenant Kawalsky's notes, Jack," Daniel added. "In fact, she can probably give you a better view on this one than I can."

Kawalsky looked almost bashful. "Well, Sir," she said, looking to General Hammond for the okay. He nodded, slightly, although Rede looked peeved to be sidelined. "The Thebans have a fairly primitive social structure. Living under Goa'uld rule, they've never needed much else. The Heptarchy is probably more of a holdover from their ancient ancestors than a current and valid political system, the whole thing perpetuated purely to administer the flow of revenue back to the Goa'uld governor. The Pythoness is a priestess of Helios, and so the role is somewhat out of favour at the moment, politically speaking. The current Pythoness is also very young, and pretty much dominated by the Heptarch.

"The real power lies with the magistrates, because they control the districts, and can deny any policy made by the two rulers. So far as I could tell, the magistrates were in the Heptarch's pocket, since he has the money and is prepared to spend it to keep their good will. Politically then, he's the man to make a deal with, but the Pythoness still has the popular support. The magistrates view her as a relic of Helios' rule, but the people saw her as an intercessory to the Gods, and a lot of them now seem to believe that she made the Jaffa go away.

"The Theban army is composed almost entirely of foreign mercenaries; like the French Foreign Legion."

"Or the Byzantine Varangian Guard," Daniel said.

"I think so," Kawalsky replied. "But I don't know too much about them."

"Viking warriors, hired as bodyguards by the Emperors of Constantinople."

"Sounds like these guys. Anyway, they come from away over the sea, and no-one trusts them. Apparently they never worshipped Helios, and have always been at odds with the priestesses. There were always a few of them around, but the Heptarch hired a bunch of them after the departure of the Jaffa, and now there are a lot more of them and they're starting to settle down. This makes the common people lean more towards the Pythoness, but as there is no standing domestic army or militia, it gives the Heptarch all of the muscle. Come the next election the current magistrates are in a rocky spot, and if a bunch who are sympathetic to the Pythoness get in, the Heptarch could be in trouble. On the other hand, that could lead to a civil war if the Heptarch uses the mercenaries to try and buck the system."

"Sounds like just the kind of man the US is used to dealing with," Daniel commented, dryly. Kawalsky and Jack hid their smiles as Hammond frowned.

Kawalsky gathered her self-possession and continued: "Overall...Well, you'll need to make your deal with the Heptarch, but if you want relations to last, you'll have to do it without treading on the Pythoness' toes."

"If I shot myself in the leg..." Jack began.

"You're going out there to negotiate, Colonel," Hammond told him. "Not to fight. If FDR could take meetings in a wheelchair, so can you."

"FDR took his country into the Second World War from a wheelchair."

"Don't worry, Colonel," Rede said, with another bright smile. "We have several hours before we're due to leave for P4G-128. I'm sure I can have you up to speed by then."

"Wonderful. Can't wait to get started," Jack replied, with transparently false enthusiasm. "General. May I have a word in private before my study session?"

"Certainly. You leave for Arcadia at nineteen hundred. The rest of you, review the files on Theban etiquette and culture. They're limited, but I want to minimise the risk of any...unpleasant diplomatic incidents. Dismissed." Amy saluted before leaving; Daniel and Teal'c followed her out, Daniel gathering his papers and shooting a sympathetic glance at Jack on his way. Rede was still grinning like a rat trap.

"I'll wait for you outside, Colonel," she said, replacing the unopened folder in her briefcase.

"What's on your mind, Colonel O'Neill?" Hammond asked.

"General. You are aware that this is nuts, aren't you?"

"I have every confidence in your ability to perform this mission to your usual standards, Colonel," Hammond replied.

Jack frowned. "Meaning?"

"Meaning that I believe you are just the man for the job."

"Well, I'm flattered by your faith in me, General. My ability aside, do I have to take Ms Rede with me? If the Thebans find her half as annoying as I do, that could be a huge mistake."

"Ms Rede is eminently qualified for this mission. She has assisted on three successful offworld diplomatic missions to date."

"How many unsuccessful?"

"Colonel, this is the US Air Force, not High School. You will work with the personnel assigned to you, whether you like them or not."

"I know that, General. But if the conflict of personalities or priorities reduces the effectiveness of my unit, I have a duty to report it."

"I don't believe it will," Hammond assured him. "Give her a chance, Colonel. She's very good at her job."

"Well, accepting that you are inflexible on this point as well, and moving on to number three, what is Amy Kawalsky doing in my unit?"

"You have a problem with the Lieutenant, Colonel?"

"She's the kid sister of a best friend I couldn't keep from being killed; I call that a conflict of interests. Also, since Teal'c actually killed her brother, I worry for the stability of the unit, Sir."

"Both valid points, Colonel," Hammond accepted. "However, I have spoken to both Teal'c and Lieutenant Kawalsky, and they feel that they will be able to operate without any difficulties. I assure you, the Lieutenant blames the Goa'uld for what happened to her brother, not Teal'c.

"As for any conflict of interests, I admit I would have doubts about sending Amy Kawalsky into combat under your command. But on this mission, I feel the advantages of having a member of SG-2 with experience of the local area and customs on the team outweighs the risk."

"Which is why Ferretti got the duty first." Jack frowned. "That all sounds swell, Sir. But there is one more thing bothering me: Why is she even in the SGC? Given what happened to her brother, isn't it a risk that she might be looking for vengeance?"

"A risk, but I don't believe that's it. Talk to her, Colonel. And trust her. She's young, but she's a good officer."

"Perfect record?"

"Good scores," Hammond replied, smiling. "And plenty of commendations for her age. Plenty of warnings and disciplinary hearings as well. As a matter of fact, her record reads a lot like yours."

"Wonderful," Jack groaned. "Y'know, my team all had plans for Thanksgiving," he added.

"I'm sorry, Colonel. But with SG-2 out of the picture, I need my best unit on this."

"I envy Carter her enforced leave," Jack replied. "Uh-oh."

"Colonel."

"Nothing, Sir. Just we were all invited to have dinner at Carter's brother's house; sort of as back-up for Jacob. I was five minutes from packing up my bait and leaving for the airport when I got your message. I figured we were all being recalled, so I didn't stop to phone my apologies."

"Well, Colonel. Best get to it." 

Outside the office, Rede was waiting, but Jack blew straight past her.

"Colonel O'Neill," she called after him.

"Meet me in the mess hall in fifteen minutes," he shouted back. "I've got some tricky diplomacy to take care of."

*

Major Samantha Carter sat tensely in an armchair in her brother's front room. The chair was comfortable, as was all of Mark's house, but she was not. Given that her father's reconciliation with Mark was still so recent, she had been doubtful all along whether Thanksgiving - traditional time of blazing family rows and sullen silences - was the best holiday on which to attempt a family get together. She had leaped at the chance when Mark had asked her to bring any friends from work, figuring that having the gang along might help to diffuse tension, and she was wishing now that they had been able to make it.

Daniel and Teal'c had both called yesterday to explain that they had been recalled to the SGC and would have to cancel. She had some hopes that the Colonel might still make it - if nothing else, he could help to bridge the gap by talking sports with both Mark and Jacob - but he had called just six hours ago, leaving her and her father to brave the meal alone.

At first, it had seemed it would not be so bad. She arrived a little early, and chatted amiably with Mark and his wife, Laura, until Jacob arrived. It had actually been something of a shock to see her father in regular, casual clothes instead of either uniform, or more often nowadays his Tok'ra ensemble, but to Sam's delight he and Mark had been easy and relaxed around each other. Jacob had paid the usual compliments to Laura, and expressed his regret that the kids were not at home - they were both having Thanksgiving with friends; Sam suspected this was to keep them clear of any potential fireworks - and in general had seemed just like a regular father and son.

The problem today was not Jacob and Mark; it was Jacob and Sam. For some reason that Sam could not fathom, her father was barely speaking to her, and he refused to meet her gaze. He seemed stiff and ill-at-ease around her, and when Mark and Laura picked up on the vibe, the whole room began to get uncomfortable. It was still about half an hour until dinner - Sam knew because she had asked Laura ten minutes ago, and fifteen minutes before that - and the atmosphere was tense to say the least. Mark seemed to be feeling that his old assessment of his father had been right all along, and Jacob looked as if he were regretting letting Selmak talk him into getting in touch with Mark at all. Occasionally Laura would try to spark up the conversation again, but so far without success. It did not help that Jacob and Sam could only answer 'so what have you been doing', with their cover stories about deep space radar telemetry. When questioned about her love life, Sam had just looked awkward.

The knock at the door came as a huge relief to everybody. As Laura went to answer, Sam prayed that it would be Jack, or Daniel, or even Teal'c; trying to explain his tattoo would at least be conversation. Whoever it was, Sam was certain that their presence could not make the afternoon any worse.

"Please, come through," Laura was saying. "And you'll join us for dinner, won't you?" Sam might have been projecting, but she could have sworn she heard a note of desperation in her sister-in-law's voice. The answer was too soft to be heard, but Sam could tell that it was a woman's voice. Not one of her colleagues then. "No, really. We were expecting more people. It's no trouble at all," Laura assured the visitor.

"That's very kind of you. If you're sure I'm not intruding," the visitor replied, with a soft, Gallic accent. Sam pricked up her ears at the sound. Surely it couldn't be...

"Sam!" The young woman greeted her in obvious relief, stepping forward with open arms. After a moment's shock, Sam stood up and embraced her, completely baffled.

"Anat?"

"Anna," Anat whispered.

"Anna? This is...a surprise," she admitted.

"I'm sorry to barge in like this," the girl said, stepping back. "I've been looking all over. I need to talk to you," she added. Mark had stood, and was looking at Sam expectantly.

"Mark," Sam said, thinking quickly. "This is Anna. She's a researcher with SETI - the Search for Extraterrestrial Intelligence," she added, knowing that Mark would know what SETI was, but that Anat might not. She was after all from another universe. "We met at a telescope array in France. The Interferometer at Plateau de Bure. Anna; my brother, Mark, and his wife, Laura."

"Pleased to meet you," Anat said, shaking hands with the two of them.

"Likewise," Mark assured her, looking at her hand a little oddly.

"And my father, Jacob." 

Anat turned, and looked at Jacob with something close outright awe. "It is an honour, Sir," she said. "I have heard so much about you." Of course, Sam thought. He's a resistance hero where she comes from.

"Really," Jacob replied, looking at her with open suspicion, and refusing to take her proffered hand. Sam wondered why for a moment, but then she saw. Anat was wearing a Goa'uld hand device. She bit her lip, nervously.

"Dad," Mark said, darkly.

Jacob looked at his son, then back at Anat. "Nothing bad I hope," he said, relenting. Anat beamed, and he returned a tight smile. Sam looked back at Mark, and caught him exchanging a knowing look with Laura which gave her pause. She smiled at Anat, trying to ignore all of the shivers of premonition that were running up her spine.

*

"Remember, Colonel; the Heptarch is addressed as 'your Lordship', the Pythoness as 'Grace'..."

"...and the magistrates as Archon. I got it, already."

SG-1 were standing on the Stargate runway, ready to depart. Jack was wearing field fatigues, and carrying a suit-holder with his dress uniform inside. The Stargate was apparently some distance from the city, and so he was to travel there before changing for his meeting with the Heptarchy. Rede was wearing a similar outfit, but without rank markings, just like those Teal'c and Daniel wore. She had replaced her glasses with a smaller, more flattering pair, but still looked very severe. Daniel and Teal'c stood behind them, and in any other situation, the idea of Danny being part of a military escort would have been funny as hell. Jack wished he had time to laugh, but he was too busy learning his Theban etiquette.

"Please take this seriously, Colonel," Rede implored, looking at him over the top of her glasses. "It is very important." Jack knew exactly how important it was. Rede had spent the last six hours drilling into him just how important it was. At least one of the other continents on Arcadia appeared to have a rich and largely untapped source of Naquada, she had told him. In order to gain access to this source, the SGC required a small base of operations in Theban territory, and the ability to move freight freely through to the Gate, and it would be easiest if they did not tip their hand by letting the Heptarchy know how much they wanted this base. It all seemed very dishonest to Jack - he was trained in clandestine ops, and was quite prepared to deceive the Goa'uld or the likes of Colonel Maybourne, but was never happy lying for the sake of it - but orders were, he supposed, orders.

"It's a sobering sight," Daniel said to Teal'c. The Jaffa turned to him and raised a questioning eyebrow. "Seeing someone else pestering Jack like that," he explained. Teal'c continued looking at him. "Sam would have got it," Daniel said, shifting the weight of his P-90. In spite of hours of training, and although he understood the reasons, it never felt natural for him to carry a gun.

With a blast of vapour, the Stargate opened, the event horizon settling gently into place, and Amy led off. It was felt that the first through the Gate should be one of the escort, but that a Jaffa would send the wrong message, and Daniel just did not look the part. Jack followed close behind, glad that both Amy and Rede had been offworld before. Although generally the SGC computers were reliable, occasionally the drift calculations would be off by a few decimal places, and nothing would cripple what little diplomatic credibility Jack had like his escort and his aide popping out of the Gate, shivering and retching.

On the other side of the Gate, a welcoming committee was waiting, and like most of the welcoming committees Jack had encountered in his time with the SGC, it was armed to the teeth. A large, bulky man, dressed in long robe, belted at the waist, led the party, followed by fifteen soldiers. The soldiers wore armour; breastplates, greaves and bracers, all of what looked like highly polished, or possibly lacquered, bronze. They carried what looked like half-sized staff weapons, which they held smartly at their sides. They were mostly young, but looked capable and professional.

Jack stepped forward as the Gate closed behind Teal'c and Daniel, Amy stepping aside to let him and the big man approach each other.

"Greetings, Jack O'Neill," the man said. He had a stern, unfriendly face, and seemed an odd choice for the welcome wagon. Maybe he had some crazy idea that Jack had been sent to weasel valuable concessions and give peanuts in return. "I am Palmys; Magistrate of the third quarter. I bid you welcome to Thebes." He gave a short, but formal bow, which Jack returned - stiffly - before responding.

"Greetings, Archon Palmys. Nice to be here." Jack was aware of Rede's quick look behind his back, but he had followed the forms before departing from them.

Archon Palmys smiled, but without much humour. "You seem a man of plain speech," he said, nodding. "I like that. I am distrustful of politicians and diplomats. Follow us; we shall escort you to the Council Hall." Jack turned and smiled at Rede as the Magistrate led off, the soldiers flanking their guests protectively.

"You're deliberately making my job difficult," she accused.

"No; you make the job difficult," Jack retorted. "All you gotta do is talk to people, and you have to put in all these forms and formalities. It speeds everything up if you cut to the chase."

"I know what I'm doing," Rede fumed. "You got lucky this time, but please..."

"Relax, Jackie. I'm not going to derail the talks. Just trying to make a few friends while I'm here. That's what we're doing, right? Making friends?"

"Don't call me Jackie," Rede growled. Obviously Jack had touched a nerve. "I hate it."

"Fair enough," Jack allowed, backing off.

Amy, meanwhile, had dropped back to join the rest of the escort. The soldiers were eyeing Teal'c with some suspicion, obviously unhappy with the presence of the Jaffa.

"Doesn't this strike you as odd?" Amy asked Daniel.

"Jack as a diplomat. I'd say so."

"The number of guards," she said. "Seems a lot of bodies for a diplomatic escort on a peaceful planet."

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed. "Perhaps there are enemies of the Heptarchy in this area. It is possible that the Goa'uld-sponsored government has fallen from favour." Amy pursed her lips, worriedly.

"If that were the case, why not tell us?" Daniel asked. "We might have needed a bigger escort for our ambassador."

"If they want stuff from Earth, they wouldn't want to show weakness by admitting to being a minority government," Amy pointed out. "But I didn't get a sense of that from the people when we were here before. The Heptarch seemed unpopular, but that was because of the way he took power. The magistrates and the Pythoness were doing just fine."

"How did the Heptarch take power?" Daniel asked.

"Well, the Heptarch is the Pythoness' husband. The current holder of the title was married to the old Pythoness, and when she died - not long after Helios' disappearance - he should have stepped down, but instead he married the new Pythoness. The rumour was that he somehow forced her into the wedding to keep his power." Daniel's hands tightened into fists, his nails digging into the palms of his hands. "Are you okay?"

"I'll be fine. I'm just unhappy with that idea. Personal reasons."

"I think I understand. Major Ferretti told me some of what happened to your wife. When he was telling me about Charles," she explained. Daniel nodded his understanding.

The 'ambassador' and his escort were led to a pair of open-topped cars, each with a driver. The Magistrate and four guards went in the lead car, while the visitors were offered the second and larger. The remaining soldiers climbed aboard a small transport truck which followed the cars.

"Y'know," Jack said, settling into the seat. "I can't remember the last planet we went to which had cars." He and Rede sat facing backwards, while Daniel, Teal'c and Amy had squeezed into the seats opposite.

"Earth," Daniel told him. "I haven't seen any others."

"Colonel," Amy interrupted their musings, cutting off another attempt by Rede to furnish Jack with some last minute diplomacy tips. "I'm worried about the number of guards they sent to meet us."

"I agree, O'Neill," Teal'c said. "Either the Heptarchy is not truly in control of this area, or they expected enemies instead of friends to step through the Chappa'ai."

"They were friendly enough to SG-2," Rede noted.

Amy nodded. "And we didn't give them reason to be otherwise. Have there been any other teams through the Stargate since then?"

Rede shook her head. "But if they're nervous about something, then all the more reason to maintain good diplomatic form," she said, pointedly.

"Alright. I'll work on my manners," Jack agreed, as much for a quiet life as anything. "Teal'c Daniel, Kawalsky; you keep your eyes out for anything unusual."

After a journey of about twenty minutes, the cars rolled into a city of wood-beamed houses. Daniel gazed around in amazement, wondering at the adaptation of Greek architecture into the medium enforced by the forested surroundings. People in the streets stopped to watch the convoy pass, the looks they gave ranging from the merely curious to the outright hostile.

"Well, they don't seem all that friendly to me," Daniel murmured to himself.

After another ten minutes, the cars pulled up outside a large structure; the only building they had seen that was constructed primarily in stone, not wood. Three years ago, it would have been impressive to Daniel, but while its beauty could not be denied, he had seen so many grander palaces in his explorations of the Goa'uld territories that the scale seemed as nothing.

"This is the Council Hall," Archon Palmys told them. "You will be shown to guest quarters so that you may rest and refresh yourselves. The Heptarch will receive you in one hour." He bowed a farewell, which Jack and Rede returned. As they entered the hall, Daniel wore a troubled expression.

"Something wrong?" Amy asked.

"I just thought...I thought I saw someone in one of the alleys, a few blocks back."

"Someone in particular?"

"Not exactly. But it looked almost as if they were wearing an SGC uniform."

*

"She was being so polite, just scooting out of reach all the time. And there's my Dad, trying to back her into a corner." Sam squirmed as Anat regaled her family with the 'hilarious' tale of Setesh's attempt to seduce her. She omitted a few details, and called her father 'Stan', but enough of it was true to be deeply uncomfortable. Mark and Laura seemed to think it was riotously funny though, and a fine repayment for the equally humiliating tale of 'Sam and the woodwork class at summer camp'. Sam was not sure why the conversation had turned to embarrassing episodes in her life, but at least it seemed to have broken the ice again. Even Jacob was smiling, although still casting worried glances at the girl with the Goa'uld weapon.

"So you came all the way from France to visit Sam?" Laura was asking.

"Yes. But it feels like further."

"That's sweet," Laura said. "Would anyone like more coffee?"

Laura and Mark stepped out to refill the pot and restack the dishwasher, the first time they had both been out of the room since Anat's arrival.

Immediately, the girl's smile faded and she became very serious. "You are Tok'ra?" She asked Jacob.

He looked surprised at the question. "Yes," he replied, suspiciously. "And you are?"

"Dad," Sam answered. "This is Setesh-ta Anat. I met her in a parallel universe and she saved my life; not to mention my virtue."

Anat smiled thinly. "My pleasure," she said.

"And Anat, this is Jacob-Selmak, Tok'ra liaison to the Tau'ri; among other things."

"Jacob Carter and Selmak," Anat breathed, awed.

"You're both famous where she comes from," Sam explained.

"Alright," Jacob said. "Leaving aside that I'm not really clear where that is, what brings you to our neck of the woods?"

"I need to talk to Sam, or one of the other members of SG-1," Anat explained. "I have very bad..." She broke off as Laura returned, and the three of them tried to look natural.

"Everything okay?" Laura asked, solicitously. They all nodded and assured her that everything was. As she stepped back out for fresh cream, Jacob leaned forward.

"You two make your excuses and go," he told Sam. "I'll meet you in the park down the street as soon as I can."

"Thank you for a lovely dinner," Sam told Laura over the last cup of coffee. "I wish we could stay longer, but Anat and I have to be going now."

"Are you sure," Mark said, with a dark look at Jacob.

Sam felt she was losing her grip on the moods around her. "We have...things to do," she said. "We really have to get going."

"Well, it's been a pleasure meeting you Anna," Laura said. "We hope we'll be seeing you again."

"I'd like that," Anat replied, a little wistfully. "And thank you for having me in at such short notice."

Sam and Anat said their goodbyes, and drove the short distance to the park. Once again, the younger woman had become very sombre as soon as they left the house. They waited with growing concern for Jacob to arrive, and having agreed to do so, Anat seemed reluctant to speak her piece before he joined them. Sam wondered what was keeping her father; she hoped it was just difficulty getting away form Mark and Laura, but Anat's presence, and the gravity the younger woman placed on the situation, were making her paranoid, and it was with considerable relief that she recognised his car approaching.

As her father climbed out of the car, his eyes burned white, and it was with the voice of Selmak that he spoke. "I am sorry to have been so long," the Tok'ra said. "Jacob was unable to get away before your brother gave him a stern talking to."

"Mark? What for?"

"Apparently because this is the twenty-first century, and he should be more accepting of your 'life style choices'." A small smile quirked the corner of her father's mouth. "He felt that Jacob was unforgivably rude to your girlfriend," Selmak added.

Anat gave a short laugh, and even Sam could not stifle a chuckle. "Great. Just great." She sighed. "Well, as much fun as it's been to have my dignity destroyed over the course of the evening; you had something to tell me, Anat?"

"Yes," the girl replied, dourly. "I've come here to give you a warning."

*

Jack examined himself in the mirror, turning slightly to one side. He was wearing the dark blue dress uniform now, and felt uncomfortable with its formality. Daniel entered the foyer of the diplomatic quarters behind him, and came to stand by him at the mirror.

"Not exactly our usual look, is it?" Jack noted.

"I feel like a reject from Men in Black," Daniel replied. He was wearing a neatly-tailored black suit, courtesy of the Secret Service. The lines of the suit were cut to conceal anything up to a small Uzi under the jacket, but Daniel was wearing his P-90 openly. Aside from the fact that carrying concealed weapons seemed a bad way to persuade anyone to trust them, it just would not be his style. Jack wore only a service-issue pistol on his hip.

"Now I remember why I never tried to get into staff politics," Jack agreed. "It's not just the back-stabbing, it's the outfits." As he spoke, Teal'c walked in behind them, dressed in a secret service suit like Daniel's.

"Now you've got the build for that look," Daniel commented.

Teal'c nodded in acknowledgement. "Thank you, Daniel Jackson. Although I must admit I find it a little binding across the shoulders." As if to prove the point, he flexed his shoulders uncomfortably, trying to settle the jacket better.

"It might have been nice to get more time for measurements," Daniel agreed.

Amy - in parade uniform, carrying a P-90 - and finally Rede - wearing a dark blue skirt-suit that matched the uniforms without actually being one - joined them in the foyer.

"We come in peace," Daniel murmured under his breath. With Teal'c carrying his staff weapon, however incongruous it might look, Rede was the only member of the group not armed.

"Come on, Danny. There's a big difference between a little caution and an armed invasion." Daniel shrugged. Jack knew he had been ideologically opposed to the SGC's expeditionary teams going armed from the very first, but while not exactly a practical man, he was pragmatic enough to recognise the necessity; especially after their first run-in with Ra and his Horus Guards on Abydos. For diplomatic missions however, Daniel was convinced that less was more as far as weapons were concerned.

"I just feel we're sending the wrong message," the archaeologist explained.

"And the fifteen armed Hoplites sent what message, precisely?" Amy asked. Daniel shrugged again, not having any good answer. "These people don't trust us," she said. "I don't know why, but it's there, and we have to deal."

"And carrying guns will help them trust us?"

"It is better to err on the side of caution," Teal'c insisted.

"Guys. Can you give us a minute?" Jack asked.

"We are expected," Rede reminded him.

"I know. Just a minute. We'll meet you outside." The young woman relented, and went outside with Teal'c and Amy. "Okay, Daniel . What's bugging you?"

"It's nothing."

"No. It's something. I know you're not a fan of guns, but this is something more. Come on," he coaxed. "You can tell me. We're friends."

"I know, Jack. That's why I don't want to let you down." Jack raised an eyebrow, questioningly. "Come on, Jack. You know I'm not the man for this job. Give me a few days to prepare and I could maybe do Rede's job..."

"And you know I'd rather have you there than her. Or even you here than me. But you're not going to let me down."

"This isn't what I do, Jack. And I'm not happy with it," Daniel explained.

Jack grinned, lopsidedly. "I'll be honest, Daniel. You're not my first choice of bodyguard. In fact, you don't make the top one hundred."

"Well, I'm glad we're having this pep talk."

"But if things go nasty out there, I don't think we'll be shooting our way out. There are just too many of those hop-skips. And if it comes to trying to talk our way out, I'd rather have you out there than anyone else in the world."

"The man who's inspired more orders for heavy Jaffa beatings than any other member of the SGC?" Daniel asked, with a ghost of a grin.

"Well, since these guys don't like the Goa'uld either, maybe that'll give you something in common."

"Thanks, Jack," Daniel said.

"No problem," Jack assured him, as they headed for the door. "Although if things do go pear-shaped, why don't you let me have the weapon."

Joining the others in the hallway, Jack and Daniel were led by Archon Palmys through the building to the great Council Hall, a wide, open space, surrounded by tall stone pillars and roofed in timber. In design it seemed somewhat like the Acropolis in Athens, but beyond the pillars were walls, enclosing the hall. Between the pillars stood the Hoplites, their truncated staff weapons held at the attention. At the far end of the room, six men sat on chairs before a dais, and a seventh stood empty, presumably waiting for Palmys. On the dais itself sat the two rulers, the Heptarch and the Pythoness.

The Heptarch was a powerful man, with iron in his dark hair and steel in his eyes. His bearing was military, and all in all he seemed rather like Jack. The set of his face was grim, but he was handsome in an autocratic fashion. The Pythoness was clearly some twenty or thirty years the junior of the Heptarch; her husband. A slim, pretty girl, barely out of childhood, she wore a troubled expression, and had about her a weary air, too old for her youthful appearance. As Palmys took his seat, Jack saw that he shared the Pythoness' troubled frown, but the other six Archons mirrored the Heptarch's dour look.

"Your Lordship. Your Grace." Jack greeted the two rulers with a bow. "Honoured Archons..." He broke off, as at a signal from the Heptarch, the mercenary guards snapped their weapons to the ready. Amy and Teal'c jumped instantly to the alert, Daniel much slower, but they were effectively and undeniably covered by superior firepower. "Okay . So what did I do wrong?" Jack asked Rede.

"Nothing," she replied. "Your Lordship," she addressed the Heptarch. "What is the meaning of this?" The Heptarch glowered balefully at them, but when Jack shifted his gaze to the Pythoness, she seemed unable to meet his eye. "We came here in good faith..."

"In good faith!" The Heptarch barked. "How dare you lecture us on good faith? You talk of peace and treaties, sending your soldiers to parley with us." He gestured angrily at Amy. "Then send others, this SG-1, to kill our people, and steal our property."

"What!" Jack demanded.

"Even today, while here under a flag of truce, you send two of your soldiers to attack our power plant."

"Jack. Could the NID have another base? One we never found?" Daniel asked. Jack frowned, clearly concerned.

"Your SGC has committed acts of terror, vandalism and murder against the people of Thebes," the Heptarch continued. "And you shall answer for it."

"Our immediate concern must be to return to the Stargate," Teal'c reminded them. "The truth behind these accusations is a matter for another time."

"I agree," Jack replied. "Options? Anyone?"

"If we take a shot, they'll put us down," Amy reported.

"Somehow I don't think the Heptarch has in mind for us to get a fair trial," Daniel added. "So they may just shoot us, even if we surrender. I don't know why we even bother to get dressed up for these things anymore."

"Your Lordship," Rede continued. "We assure you that these accusations are untrue. The SGC has committed no crime against your people. If we surrender our weapons, will you give us an opportunity to prove our innocence?"

"Your question is irrelevant, child." The voice spoke from the shadows behind the rulers' throne. It was a woman's voice, with a sensual quality, but a touch of steel as well. The Thebans in the hall reacted visibly to the sound, even the Heptarch sitting up a little straighter in his chair, while the Pythoness shivered, as though cold.

"Circe." The name was whispered up and down the line of Archons, and among the Hoplites, with a touch of awe.

"As a matter of courtesy we extend to you the opportunity to surrender," the woman continued, stepping with a graceful stride from the concealing darkness. "But our soldiers can take you whether you do so or not." Jack caught his breath at the sight of the woman, but not because of her beauty.

At the edge of his vision, Jack was aware of Teal'c swinging his staff weapon in the woman's direction, but at his movement the Hoplites fired, and the Jaffa fell. The Theban half-staffs fired an energy pulse similar to that of a zat'nik'tel, and although he took several hits, Jack did not think that Teal'c had been killed. Regardless, he was unable to turn and check, his attention riveted on the woman that the Thebans called Circe. She turned her head, and smiled at him, and her true name came unbidden from his lips.

*

"Astarte?" Sam asked, alarmed. "She's here?"

"She and a handful of her Jaffa were unaccounted for when Napoleon purged the palace at Giza," Anat explained. "In addition to which, all of your possessions had vanished from storage; we know because we tried to get them back to conceal all traces of your presence."

"Colonel O'Neill did say that she was interested in other universes; and she did read my notes, so...Dad, what do you know about Astarte in this universe?"

"Wife of Setesh; betrayed him when he rebelled against Ra and became one of Ra's Queens. She sided with Heru'ur, and managed to supplant his former Queen, Tawaret, less than a month before his defeat. She disappeared not long after that; it was assumed that she went into hiding or was killed by agents of Apophis or of Tawaret."

"Well, if she was killed, we may have a problem," Sam admitted. "But if not, then your Astarte would have been destroyed by a Temporal Entropic Cascade Failure not long after she crossed over."

"There are ways around that," Anat replied. "But Astarte would likely not have access to those." 

Sam wanted to ask what she meant about 'ways around' TEC Failure, but Selmak interrupted. "What makes you think she would come here?"

"From talking to some of her servants, she expressed a particular interest in SG-1 and Colonel O'Neill prior to her final departure, on the same night that you left our universe. Lately, we learned that a group of individuals, wearing what sound like your uniforms, were seen in the alleyways near to our ring-chamber on that same night."

"And why should you come here, to another universe, for one Goa'uld?"

"She is not just one Goa'uld," Anat replied. "She is Astarte, one of the most cunning and dangerous of all Goa'uld, and she has been unleashed upon your world from ours. SG-1 were instrumental in shifting the balance of power on our Earth, so that the Tau'ri resistance stand a chance against Napoleon, and thus of disrupting the Emperor's efforts to unite the System Lords against the Tok'ra and the Asgard.

"We owe each and every one of them a great debt," the girl continued. "Teal'c freed me from my father's lies; Daniel Jackson showed the Tau'ri that they could be strong, and both Sam and Colonel O'Neill died for us..."

"You died?" This time it was Jacob, rather than Selmak, who interrupted. "Again?"

"Just for half an hour," Sam replied, defensively. "I didn't want to worry you."

"How did you die?"

"Astarte killed me with an axe," Sam admitted.

"And now she's here," Anat added. "After all they did for us, we weren't going to let our problem mess with your universe. We're here to see that problem fixed, then we'll go home."

"We?" Sam asked.

"My crew and I," Anat explained.

"What will Astarte do, if she is here?" Jacob asked.

"She'll find somewhere to build her strength, then she'll seek an ally to offer her aid to. She'll support that ally in a bid for power, then control him from behind the scenes. If it all goes sour, she'll leave him to take the fall."

"She sounds more cunning than the one in our world," Jacob admitted. "I should take word of this to the Tok'ra Council as soon as possible."

"And I have to warn the SGC."

"Then we should head back to the Mountain," Jacob agreed. "I can Gate back to the Tok'ra base."

Sam nodded. "I'm supposed to stay on vacation for a few more days, but I think this counts as an emergency." Jacob smiled, knowing that returning to the SGC was practically going home for Sam. "We'll need to move our tickets up, then..."

Anat interrupted with a small cough. "I could give you a ride," she offered.

*

"I'm afraid that you have me confused with someone else," Astarte assured Jack, solemnly. "My name is Circe, and this land is under my protection. Thus, those who would threaten it are my enemies." Her dark eyes passed across the four humans, flickering warily to the supine Jaffa. "You and your accomplices are now in my custody, Colonel O'Neill, but I offer you the chance to preserve your dignity. Lay down your weapons, and you shall be bound, but leave the hall on your feet. Refuse, and you will be carried."

Jack looked around. He knew fire superiority when he saw it, and the Hoplites had it now, whatever their half-staff weapons actually did. "Do I have your assurance that my people will be treated humanely?"

"We make no promises to terrorists!" The Heptarch snarled, half-rising to his feet.

Astarte laid a hand on his shoulder. "Peace, Aristeias. We are not ogres." She turned to Jack. "Your people will be treated as they deserve," she promised. It was pretty weak, but doubtless the best concession he could extract under the circumstances.

"Do as she says," he ordered, reluctantly. "Lay down your weapons." Slowly and carefully, he drew the pistol from his side and laid it on the ground at his feet. Then he kicked the weapon gently away from him. After a moment's pause, Amy set down her P-90, and followed it with her sidearm.

Oddly, Daniel was the slowest to put down his gun. "You know this is a really bad idea?" He asked Jack.

"Yeah. But all the others are worse."

The Hoplites came forward and gathered up the weapons, then bound the humans' wrists in front of them. "Be careful with O'Neill and the Jaffa," Astarte warned them. "They are dangerous. And that one is also a warrior," she added, gesturing towards Amy with a slender hand. She stepped down as the soldiers secured their prisoners, ignoring the restraining hand of the Heptarch, and stood very close in front of Daniel.

"This one is different," she said. "You must be the scholar; Jackson."

"Doctor. Jackson," Daniel replied stiffly. Jack knew from experience how uncomfortable Astarte's physical proximity could be, and felt sorry for Daniel having to go through this. He also - though he hated himself - felt the tiniest bit jealous. He checked his thoughts, reminding himself that he had not met this Astarte, who called herself Circe.

"My apologies, Doctor." Astarte moved to stand in front of Rede, who evidently found her presence as unsettling as Daniel had. "And who is this?" Astarte wondered aloud.

"Jacqueline Rede. SGC Junior Diplomatic Liaison," Rede told her, voice quavering. "You must believe that there has been a terrible mistake..." With a swift motion, Astarte lifted a finger to the other woman's lips. To her credit, Rede managed to contain herself, and while she flinched, she did not back away. With a slight smile, Astarte moved on to Amy.

"And you are not Samantha Carter," she observed. "Pity." Amy just scowled in response. "Bring them to the palace," Astarte instructed the Hoplites, then turned and swept away into the darkness behind the thrones. The Heptarch scowled down at the prisoners, while the Pythoness sat, pensive, consumed with worry. Plainly at least one person in the room was not a member of the Circe Fan Club.

"What a charmer," Jack commented. The Heptarch snarled. "Peace, Aristeias," Jack told him, aping Astarte.

"Take them away. Get them out of my sight."

The Heptarch and the Pythoness stood aside, and to Jack's surprise, SG-1 found themselves led between the two thrones, into the shadows from which Astarte had emerged, and from there into a tunnel that sloped downwards. Two of the Hoplites had Teal'c by the arms and were dragging him along, while two others trained their weapons on him. Two more watched Amy, and another two stood behind Jack, and a handful of other Hoplites stood by. One stood out from the others, wearing a tall-plumed helm, and was obviously their leader.

"Stay close," this leader instructed his captives, lighting a torch. "The tunnels are winding and branch often. If you get lost, you will never see the light of day again." There was an unpleasant relish in his voice as he spoke the warning.

"I never guessed there were so many ways to die on this planet," Jack commented, as they descended into darkness.

"Well, you know us," Daniel replied. "If there's a way, we'll find it."

"Quiet!" One of the Hoplites clapped Daniel roughly around the back of the head.

"Let them talk," the leader commanded. "There is no one to hear."

"Why is it always me that gets beaten up?" Daniel asked, rhetorically. "Amy. What's this palace they're taking us to?"

"I don't know," the young soldier replied. "No one mentioned a palace last time we were here. I'd hazard that it's Helios' place though."

"Makes sense," Daniel agreed. "Which is more than I can say for Astarte turning up here."

"Come on, Danny boy. We knew there must be an equivalent in our world. It's just coincidence that brings her here."

"Maybe. I didn't meet her in the other universe; just heard of her by reputation. Was she pretty much like this one?"

"Other universe?" Amy asked.

"Long...very long story."

"Parallel universe," Daniel told her.

"Ah-ha."

"Okay. That was the short version," Jack acknowledged. "The long one..."

Following behind the others, Jacqueline Rede was feeling disoriented and nauseous. The walls, barely visible by the flicker of torchlight, seemed to press in upon her, crushing and constricting, making it difficult to breathe. The voices of SG-1 seemed to drift into the distance as her head swam. She knew that she was on the verge of outright terror; that the slightest shock would jar her into total nervous collapse.

The voices stopped.

Jacqueline looked up from her feet, and saw the light fading into nothing ahead of her. She ran after it, heart pounding, and her ankle twisted sideways as her heel hit some softer soil. She cried out, but no response came, and now the tunnel was completely dark.

Fighting the panic with every fibre of her being, Jacqueline scrambled forward, hoping to spot the light around the next corner. But in the dark, she did not even know what was a corner and what a straight corridor, and as she struggled on, she struck a division in the centre of the corridor, and knew that it had branched.

The tunnel headed off in two different directions. There was no sign of the torchlight, and no sound of voices. She did not even know if SG-1 had been brought this way, or if she had lost them some time ago.

She was alone...

...lost...

...in the dark.

She screamed.

"Did you hear something?" Jack asked.

"No." Daniel replied. Amy shook her head.

"How 'bout you, Ree...Rede?" Jack whispered.

"Where'd she go?" Daniel asked.

Jack shrugged. "Don't draw attention to it. Looks like she got away."

"Great. Put a less likely rescuer than me in the group..." Daniel and Jack shared a knowing smile.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Jack assured his friend. "I've had to rescue you at least as many times as you've had to rescue me. Anyway; all she has to do is get near enough to the gate so she can signal through when they open the wormhole to check up on us."

"Signal with what, Sir?" Amy asked. "They haven't taken our radios, but Rede didn't have one."

"Stupendous."

"But she might find a way to help us on her own," Daniel suggested weakly.

"We're so screwed."

Suspended between two of the guards, Teal'c gave a slight groan that suggested he was returning to consciousness.

"Okay," Jack whispered. "We may be able to add one Jaffa to our list of resources."

"They can add two," Daniel replied, nodding at the passage ahead of them. Sure enough, flanking a large, stone gate, there stood two Jaffa. They wore uniforms unfamiliar to Jack, but there was no mistaking the look of steely determination in their eyes, nor the capable fashion in which they gripped their staff weapons. On the door behind them was depicted a great disk, with a fringed mane of solar rays.

"The symbol of Helios," Daniel reported. "This must be the entrance to his palace."

"This is the abode of Lady Circe now," one of the Jaffa said. "Liberator and protector of Arcadia." His voice was full of open adoration for his mistress.

"Liberator and protector," Jack commented. "Must be a very busy woman." The second Jaffa gave a grunt of rage and lowered the tip of his staff. "She probably doesn't have time for us today, so why don't we go away and come back some other time?" The staff weapon snapped open.

"Kree!" The first Jaffa barked the command. After a moment's hesitation, the weapon snapped closed, but remained levelled. "Lady Circe desires that you be brought to the cells alive; no more than that. You would do well to speak more carefully of her." Jack nodded his understanding, and the Jaffa ran his eyes over the group. "Commander," he said, beckoning the mercenary leader. The man stepped forward. "Where is the fifth?"

"Fifth?"

"The other woman? We were told you brought two men, two women and a Jaffa." The commander turned back and did a head count. "Go back into the tunnels. Find her and bring her here." The Jaffa pounded the butt of his staff weapon on the gate, three times then two times, and it slid open with barely a sound. Five more Jaffa stepped out to take charge of the prisoners. "Go!" At the command, the Hoplites turned and retreated into the passageway. "Prisoners. You will accompany these Jaffa to your cells."

"And you just stay out here?" Daniel asked. The Jaffa glowered. "Okay. Well, we'll give your regards to Astarte." The glower became a fierce scowl, but the second Jaffa barely reacted. Three of the new Jaffa came around behind SG-1. The leader jabbed Teal'c with his staff, and the former First Prime of Apophis rose slowly, unsteadily to his feet.

"You Okay, big guy?" Jack asked.

"I will be fine," Teal'c replied. "The hunting goad does not cause lasting harm."

"Move!" The leader commanded, and the Jaffa began herding SG-1 through the gate.

After a few minutes, Rede got control of herself, and realised that screaming would only lead the wrong people to her. Settling down, but still quite unable to see anything, she began following one of the passage walls, hoping that it would lead somewhere. After a while however, with no change in the stone wall, desperation began to creep up on her again.

"Help!" She cried, at the top of her lungs. Hoplites, Jaffa, ravening monsters; she no longer cared who came, only that someone might find her and take her out of this stifling darkness.

Or put her out of her misery.

She drew breath to scream again, but suddenly felt herself seized from behind. An arm encircled her waist, and a hand clamped over her mouth, and she was dragged away into the dark.

*

"You left a teltac in Balboa Park?" Jacob asked, astounded.

"It's cloaked," Anat assured him. "And very out of the way."

"Well, it's certainly quicker than going by plane," the General admitted, struggling through a hedge. "Although this is very out of the way."

"Should get you to Cheyenne Mountain in less than an hour," Anat promised.

"How do you know where the SGC is?" Sam asked, concerned.

"Gate signature; easy enough to trace if you know how, given the amount of power held in even a dormant Stargate. Based on past experience, we figured the Mountain would be your base."

"Past experience?"

"It took us a few hours to chase down your location, Sam," Anat told her. "Most of that trying addresses where no-one was home. But it's taken six months to find the right universe." Anat turned to face Jacob and Sam, and touched a finger to her hand device. Behind her, the air shimmered, and the rear hatch of a teltac cargo vessel appeared.

"Welcome to the Hope," Anat said. "Sorry about the mess; we don't get too many visitors." Sam had ridden in teltacs before, and the rear portion, while not comfortable, was typically spacious. In this case however, the vessel's main cargo bay was cluttered with cables and machinery, including a large, glowing column. At a glance, Sam saw a distinct resemblance to a naquada reactor, but with a strange sheen that reminded her of the quantum mirror that had brought alternate versions of herself and Major Kawalsky to Area 51 from an alternate universe.

"That's incredible," Jacob breathed.

"You know what it is?" Sam asked, incredulous.

"No. But it's big, and it's shiny."

"It's a quantum resolution field generator." The voice that spoke from behind the device was an man's voice, with an English accent. "Used for shifting an object, or objects, between parallel universes."

"Like the quantum mirror, but on a larger scale?" Sam asked, moving around the column.

"That's right," the voice was impressed. Sam rounded the far side of the column and there was no one there. "But just a little fiddly to control." The voice came from where Sam had just been. "Stay there," it added. "I'm coming back round."

"General Carter," Anat said. "Won't you come through to the cockpit? If these two get started on science, we'll probably end up way over our heads."

"Don't I know it," Jacob replied, following her from the hold.

"You see, with the quantum mirror you can cycle between settings until you get the correct image, then cross over," the voice continued. "But with the QRF, you're inside the effect, so you can't look before you..."

Sam looked up as the man's voice rounded the curve of the column and tailed off. He was about her height, with dark-blonde hair, and strikingly handsome. He was well-muscled, his physique more toned than just hard work would produce. She guessed he must have some kind of combat experience; partly from the way he moved, and partly from the tattoo emblazoned on his forehead. He was a Jaffa.

"Hello, Sam," he said.

Sam blinked, confused. "Have we met?" 

The Jaffa looked pained. He bit his lip and looked away from her. "I'm sorry," he said. "Not really. I'm Jason," he added, extending his hand. After a moment's hesitation, Sam accepted it. His palm was rough and callused, and a little greasy, but used to the company of engineers, Sam did not mind that.

"Pleased to meet you," Sam said, letting his strange comment slide for the moment, and turning to technical matters. "So how does this thing work?"

"Well," Jason replied, apparently glad to change subject. "It generates a macro-level quantum uncertainty, just like the surface of the mirror. But instead of a single plane, it wraps the uncertainty around the teltac, so that everything within it exists in a dual quantum state, and then by fine-tuning the resonant frequency of the field..."

"...you control which quantum state..."

"...and which quantum universe..."

"...the teltac and its contents resolve into! That's incredible!" Sam breathed, awestruck. "Who built this thing?" Jason looked hurt.

"I did," he told her.

Sam was appalled. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean...I didn't mean to suggest you couldn't." Jason waved away the apology.

"It's not that, it's just...never mind," he finished, lamely. Then he perked up a little. "C'mon. I'll show you how it works."

"That's how things were when Sam and the others left," Anat told Jacob-Selmak. The two of them were sitting in the teltac's control cockpit, while Anat ran the ship through a seemingly endless pre-flight sequence. She had just finished the much abridged story of SG-1's visit to her home universe, and its massive repercussions for herself and the resistance movement.

"Why is this taking so long," Selmak asked, warily.

"The Hope has a lot more systems than a regular teltac; the cloak, the flip field, and some upgrades on the engines. We have to get all the systems powered up and synched before I start burning real power to the drives, otherwise the whole thing could blow up, and take a large chunk of the planet with it. That or collapse us into a tiny pocket dimension where we'll be slowly compressed to the size of an atom over the space of several million years." Selmak gave her a look of intense concern. "Don't worry. Hasn't happened yet." She punched a handful of controls, and the teltac began to rise into the air. "And we're off."

"So how have the resistance been doing since then?"

"Strength to strength," Anat replied. "We have momentum now; before they were just sitting still. We've created a whole new front where Napoleon has to expend resources, and it's beginning to tell. Galactic domination is way out of his grasp, and he's falling back to the defensive at the moment. Things are still rough, but there's hope now where there wasn't before." Anat's hands moved easily over the control panel, logging in the course to Cheyenne Mountain. "You don't trust me, do you?"

Selmak frowned. "It's not that..." Anat arched an eyebrow, sceptically. "I don't know what to make of you," the Tok'ra admitted. "You show up at Jacob's son's house, looking for Major Carter and wearing a Goa'uld hand device..."

"You don't expect a girl to walk around San Diego unprotected do you?"

"...And you come out with this story about travelling across universes to bring a warning? What do you expect me to think?"

Anat shrugged. "I didn't expect you to think anything. I wasn't looking for you. But it's like I said: SG-1 gave my world hope. We don't just owe them for a little fire support. Daniel Jackson may well have indirectly saved our galaxy from Napoleon's unchallenged rule, and Teal'c...Teal'c changed my life," she finished, softly. "I won't let Astarte hurt him again." Selmak looked long and hard at Anat, but she bore his scrutiny without flinching. The Tok'ra seemed about to speak, when the cockpit door opened, and Sam entered from the rear of the vessel.

"Now that is an impressive piece of work," she announced.

"The machine? Or the Jaffa?" Anat asked, impishly.

Sam felt herself blush. "The generator," she replied.

"There's a Jaffa?" Jacob asked, surprised.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "He was behind the generator; I didn't sense him either."

"Jason was born in Setesh's compound in England," Anat told them. "He was trained for the Setesh Guard, but he ran away when he was fifteen and he's been with the resistance since. He's carrying a Tok'ra prim'ta at the moment."

"Where did he learn his science?" Sam wondered aloud.

"I don't believe he did," Anat replied. "He just...understands stuff. He mostly works with adapting Goa'uld technology, but after he heard about you, he started developing a whole new line of theories regarding universal cross-transport. It wasn't much good to the resistance, but he worked on it in his free time. When Josephine and I decided to try and send a mission to your universe, we retrieved the quantum mirror and he was able to put his theories into practice."

"He's a genius alright," Sam agreed. "But...kind of weird. He was really jumpy and awkward around me."

Anat smiled, sadly. "He's probably just confused. You know; finds you attractive, but he's in love with someone else."

"I guess he doesn't get out much does he?" Sam asked, feeling herself blush again.

"Something like that," Anat replied, evasively.

"He's not in love with you, is he?"

"No," Anat assured her, but a little too quickly.

"Are you in love with him?"

"Of course not!" Anat snorted. "You know I'm in love with..." She looked awkward. "With Teal'c," she finished. Sam was gobsmacked. Anat turned and smiled at her. "Word of advice? Don't ever get too attached to anyone from another universe."

"I'll bear it in mind," Sam promised. "Now I should radio the mountain; let them know we're coming."

"Of course. There's a communication sphere at the navigator's seat, behind Jacob. It's rigged to broadcast by regular radio wave."

"Why would you do that?" Jacob asked. "It must bring the range and the speed of transmission right down."

Anat nodded. "Of course, but it's an old resistance trick. It stops the Goa'uld intercepting the transmissions, and we only have to use it short-range on Earth." Jacob nodded, accepting the logic of this argument.

"That's good thinking," he admitted.

"That's your thinking," Anat confided. "Jacob Carter devised the system as a way to compensate for the unreliability of Tau'ri radio communications, without sending broadcasts that the Goa'uld could intercept. His loss was felt deeply by the resistance," she added.

"Now you're creeping me out," Jacob told her. "And I have a snake wrapped around my brain stem."

"I know what you mean. Everyone on this ship - myself, Jason and the engineer, Cally - was chosen for the mission because they won't have equivalents in this or any similar universe. Without Napoleon's conquest and what followed from it, none of us would ever have been born. It's eerie to think about; I'm sure Sam would agree." The girl looked over to where Sam was busy at the communicator.

"You mean in your world..."

"The resistance was Jacob Carter's life. The nearest thing he had to a son was his protégé." Jacob looked away, distractedly. "Jack O'Neill," Anat added.

"You have got to be kidding me?"

"Jack O'Neill/Selmak." Jacob's eyes bulged in disbelief. Anat laughed briefly, before sobering again. "Sadly, the resistance lost them both shortly before SG-1 arrived through the Stargate." Jacob sat very still, staring pensively through the forward screen of the teltac.

"...how long overdue?" Sam was asking, her voice clear past the sudden and uncomfortable silence between Jacob and Anat. "Anat? What's our ETA?"

"Our what?"

"How long until we arrive?"

"Oh. Fifteen, twenty minutes."

Sam relayed the information to the Mountain, listened for a few moments, then signed off. She turned to Jacob and Anat with a grim expression. "SG-1 were sent on a diplomatic mission earlier today. They're almost three hours late checking in with the SGC."

"Teal'c...?" Anat asked.

"With them. Yes," Sam confirmed. "We don't know what's happened to them yet; it may be nothing."

"It's Astarte," Anat said. "I know it. I was too late," she added, in a voice filled with self-loathing.

"It's not too late yet," Sam promised her.

*

"Well, this is nice," Jack commented.

"As Goa'uld cells go, I've seen worse," Daniel said. "At least it's dry." The cell was both dry, and relatively cosy. It smelled clean and fresh, and had three good-sized, almost comfortable bunk-sets, and even a table and chairs. The walls were made of stone, and looked thick. The door was metal.

"I suppose it's better than Netu," Jack allowed.

Daniel smiled in spite of himself. "So is Detroit." Jack smiled back.

Amy was sitting on one of the bunks, apparently calm and collected. Jack went over and sat beside her.

"How're you holding up, Lieutenant?"

"Fine, Sir. And thanks for asking." The girl looked about her, analysing the situation. "But you know, you don't have to worry about me. I'm an Air Force officer now, Colonel; not your best friend's kid sister. I don't need special treatment."

"I know, but..." Amy looked him in the eyes, and he saw a steely strength there that reminded him of her brother; and more than a little bit of himself. "I'll try not to coddle you," he agreed.

Amy nodded. "Thank you, Sir. And I meant it; thanks for asking." She smiled her crooked, mischievous grin. "Now; does anyone have any plans for getting out of here?"

Jack looked up to Daniel and Teal'c. "I throw the subject open to the floor," he said.

"Well," Daniel hazarded. "Ordinarily I'd say that Astarte's arrogance would be our best advantage. Always in the past, the Goa'uld have left weaknesses in their defences because they're too confident of their own invincibility."

"It's a start."

"Unfortunately; I don't think that Astarte has that problem. According to what I learned about her in the other universe - and assuming for the sake of argument that that applies here - then she's meticulous to the point of psychosis."

"Okay. Not a start. Big guy?"

"I agree with all that Daniel Jackson has said," Teal'c agreed. "But I believe he has overlooked one advantage. This was the palace of Helios for many years, and if Astarte has taken residence it is only recently. However cautious Astarte is, Helios was renowned for his arrogance, and his refusal to attend to details was the cause of his undoing."

Jack nodded. "So you're saying there may be weaknesses in the palace, which Astarte hasn't got around to fixing." The Jaffa nodded.

"Also, some of her Jaffa are very new to her service," Daniel observed.

"What? Do they have purchase dates?"

"They don't know who she is," Amy said.

"Exactly," Daniel replied. "I said we'd give their best to Astarte..."

"...and only one of them reacted," Jack finished, nodding. "Right. I wondered about that." He shook his head in frustration. "This may not be the best time to mention it, but I don't seem to be on top form today."

"It's probably seeing Astarte again," Daniel said, sympathetically. "You didn't expect it; you're shaken. It's understandable. That whole time when Hathor's goons were chasing us round that planet, my brains were like tar. It'll pass," he promised.

The lock opened with a heavy clunk, and the door swung slowly open. Two Jaffa stepped in, one holding a hunting goad levelled at the cell's occupants. The other looked like the senior of the two, and Jack thought he recognised him from the entourage of the other Astarte. At least two more Jaffa stood, waiting, in the corridor.

"You," the leader said, pointing at Amy. The young lieutenant slowly rose to her feet. "Come with us. Lady Circe commands your presence." Amy looked to Jack, who shook his head. She remained standing in place. "You will come with us," the Jaffa insisted.

"She will not," Jack replied, stepping in front of her. "I'm in charge here, and if Lady Circe want to speak to someone, she can speak to me."

The Jaffa sneered at Jack and stepped around him to seize Amy. Almost disdainfully, she slipped his grasp, and Jack placed a hand on his chest and shoved him away. "Back off!" He commanded. The Jaffa barked an order, and his subordinate discharged the hunting goad into Jack's abdomen. The shock was more painful than a zat blast, but did not cause him to black out. He did however find himself lying on the floor, as his legs turned to jelly beneath him.

Angrily, Amy took a step forward, but she too was felled by a charge from the goad. Teal'c and Daniel were brought up short before they could intervene, as another Jaffa entered from the corridor to cover them with a staff weapon.

The senior officer gestured sharply, and two servants entered to gather Jack from the floor and carry him from the cell. Then the Jaffa backed away to the door, and closed it behind them as they left. Teal'c strode to the door, while Daniel knelt beside Amy.

"How do you feel?" He asked.

"Like I just took the red pill," she replied, managing a smile. "Where's Uncle Jack?"

"Uncle Jack?" 

Amy smiled again, a little sheepishly. "Just the impromptu ETC talking," she assured him.

Daniel smiled faintly, but his expression sobered quickly. "They took him away with them."

"Should have let them take me," she said.

"Colonel O'Neill would never willingly allow a member of his command to be tortured in his place," Teal'c told her.

"Right," Amy sniffed, doubtfully. "This isn't personal." Amy struggled to rise, but neither her arms nor her legs seemed to have the strength. "Could you just give me a hand to sit up?" She asked Daniel. With a little effort, the archaeologist managed to prop her against the side of the bunk.

"The strength should return to your limbs within a few minutes," Teal'c assured her.

"What was that thing?" Amy asked the Jaffa.

"It looked like one of those Bedrosian weapons," Daniel noted.

"It is a Goa'uld hunting goad," Teal'c told them. "Carried by beaters on big-game hunts, and designed to cause pain in large animals, allowing the beaters to drive them towards the Goa'uld hunters. On human-sized animals it is quite debilitating, but the weapon is designed not to cause permanent harm."

"That's good to know," Amy said. "But it hurts like hell." Gingerly she moved her arms, clearly regaining some strength and feeling.

"I would suppose that the Thebans use the goads because as a hunting preserve, the planet would be well-stocked with them. The Bedrosians may well have adapted their weapons from a similar design after the upheaval which buried their Stargate."

"Did you say the Colonel would be tortured?" Amy asked, a little uncomfortably. Daniel nodded. "He'll hold out, right? I mean, I know he'll break eventually, but he'll be okay?"

"Astarte's ability in the alternate universe was...legendary," Daniel admitted.

"I would not give even Colonel O'Neill more than a few hours," Teal'c confirmed.

Amy looked pale. "He should have let them take me," she said again.

By the time they arrived in the throne room - a chamber very reminiscent of Ra's audience chamber in his starship on Abydos - Jack had regained control of his limbs. He expected to be forced to his knees before the empty seat, but instead the Jaffa pushed him past, to the back of the chamber, and through to a more secluded space.

"Well, this is starting to get very déjà vu," Jack muttered to himself, looking around at the black-and-gold-striped hangings which surrounded the room. To one side, the hangings billowed away from a open window. The Jaffa pushed Jack forward, then retreated to stand by the door. "So I just wait here then?" He asked the Jaffa.

"Oh no, Jack," Astarte's voice assured him, light and teasing. "No waiting. Not for you." Startled, Jack tried to trace the source of the voice, eventually settling on the area of the window. Gradually, he made out a robed form, garbed in the same fabric that made up the curtains, causing her to become all but invisible. The effect must have taken a great deal of work to orchestrate; Jack had not seen such effective camouflage since he had cross-trained with an SAS unit in Germany, fifteen years before.

She half-turned towards him, black hair and gold ribbons sliding across the back of the robe to reveal her face in profile against the light. It was an artful, deliberate movement, but made Jack catch his breath nonetheless. As in the Heptarchy's Hall, Astarte was not using her Goa'uld voice, and Jack had to give himself a mental kick, so as not to forget what she was.

"Very...dramatic," he allowed, warily. "I'm flattered you think I'm worth all the trouble."

"Oh, Jack; I know what you are worth," Astarte assured him with a slight smile. "We may not have had much time together, but I have missed your sense of humour."

Jack felt a chill run down his spine. He tried to think of something to say. "How...?" Was all he managed.

"The same way you did," Astarte replied, dismissively. "With a copy of your lovely Major's notes, it was not hard to follow you, my dear."

She turned fully towards Jack. The gown fell to her feet, sweeping the floor as she seemed to glide towards him. Again, on another woman such a motion might seem stagy or overblown, but she carried it off with dazzling style. She was covered from the ground to her neck, the collar of her robe exposing only the hollow of her throat, and Jack caught himself wondering what she was wearing underneath. He gave his mind another kick. She's a Goa'uld, he reminded himself.

Astarte floated up to Jack, and placed a hand gently on his chest. She's a Goa'uld, he repeated to himself, over and over like a mantra.

"I hear disturbing news, Jack," Astarte whispered. "That you demanded to be taken in place of the girl who travels with you."

Silently thanking Astarte for making his task easier, Jack pulled away from her with such suddenness that her guards stepped forward, anticipating violence. Their mistress raised her hand and with barely a motion, signalled them back. With as little, she might have ordered Jack's death.

"Okay!" Jack snapped. "Once and for all: I am not seeing anyone in my command. In fact, I'm not seeing anyone at all, but that's nothing to do with you, because I'm not seeing you either. This game was boring the last time you got me to play it, and it's boring now!" Go Jack! He thought to himself. "So why don't we cut the crap, and get to the point? If there even is one."

Jack expected anger, or a pouting display of feigned grief. Instead, Astarte gave a light, dancing laugh that rang musically in his ears and did strange and pleasant things to the rest of him. Then she was up near to him again, and arm around his neck and her mouth very close to his ear. "The point, Jack?" She whispered. She stepped away, and Jack saw that a large, familiar-looking Jaffa had stepped up beside them. "You remember Rehetep? My First Prime?"

"I never forget a staff-whipping," he assured her. Astarte smiled, and reached her slender hand into the Jaffa's pouch.

"The point," Astarte began. She withdrew her hand, clutching the writhing form of a Goa'uld. Not a hagfish-like prim'ta, such as Junior, but a silver-scaled, mature Goa'uld, ready to take a new host body. "You see where I am going?"

*

As Jacqueline Rede emerged into the light, she breathed a sigh of relief. She felt further relief to see that her captors were not Hoplites, but a group of young Thebans in simple tunics and breeches. Four of them surrounded her, forcing her to move with them as they left a natural cave mouth and headed off through a forest. From her study of SG-2's reports, she knew that these must be residents of the poorer rural areas of Thebes. In preparing for a meeting with the Heptarchy, she had neglected a lot of the information on the rural settlements, and she could have kicked herself now for being so sloppy.

"Where are you taking me?" She asked them, as they hurried her along. "I'm Jacqueline Rede; diplomatic liaison to the Stargate Command. Perhaps I should speak to someone in authority?"

No one answered, and Jacqueline soon had little breath for talking. Her captors - rescuers still seemed unreasonably optimistic - set a challenging pace, and although she was in good trim, Jacqueline was not used to route marching, and besides her feet were killing her. Dressed formally, her skirt was too narrow and her heels - while far from stilettos - too high for this kind of movement. About half an hour into the journey, she would have given anything for jeans and a pair of trainers. After forty-five minutes, she was ready to kill for them.

"Please," she begged. "I need to rest."

"It's not far now," one of the Thebans promised; the first words any of them had spoken to her. She did not have the strength to ask where they were going again, so she just nodded and accepted his words.

It was probably only a little over ten minutes more before they reached a small, secluded village on the edge of the forest, but Rede felt ready to collapse, and had been seriously considering just keeling over, leaving the Thebans to abandon her, carry her or stop and wait, as they preferred. The sight of houses was a relief beyond telling, and when the young Theban who had spoken to her led Rede to a bench, she slumped down gratefully, tugged off her shoes and began massaging her aching feet, momentarily oblivious to the fact that she was - in effect - a prisoner.

"Should we tie her?" One of the Thebans asked, snapping her back to reality. She saw at once that she was beginning to draw a crowd, all dressed in the same manner as her captors, although the women wore long skirts instead of breeches.

"She's not going anywhere," the one who had spoken to Rede before replied. He seemed to be a leader of some sort, at least among this small group. "Find out if Damia is back yet." The other gave a wary glance in Rede's direction, but gave a small bow and walked away.

After a few minutes, a girl came out of one of the huts, and brought a wide bowl of steaming liquid over to Rede. It was clear, and looked like water, although it smelled pungently of herbs. Rede thanked the girl, bowing her head slightly in the Theban manner, and raised the bowl to her lips. This action drew a laugh from the onlookers, and the young man placed a hand on the other edge of the bowl to stop her.

"For your feet," he explained. Rede blushed, set the bowl down and rested her feet in the water. A pleasant, warm numbness spread in place of the ache.

"Thank you," she said. The young man nodded, but his expression was serious. He went off, and she saw him talking to various people, including the man whom he had sent to find Damia; whoever Damia was. The girl returned with a cup of cold water and a little food, and Rede thanked her again. She began to feel quite restored, but despite their obvious curiosity, still no one would speak to her.

*

The Hope landed near the front gate of the Cheyenne Mountain complex, still cloaked. A detachment of SGC security personnel came out to meet the ship, and the crew were escorted to the holding area. General Hammond met them there, and gave Anat a VIP security ID, clearing her to enter the base, but not view any sensitive equipment besides the Gate itself. Jason and Cally, the engineer, a brawn Scotswoman, reluctantly remained in the holding area.

"They could wait on the ship," Anat suggested, as she rode down in the main lift with the General.

"I'm sorry," General Hammond replied. "Major Carter can vouch for you, but I'd be remiss if I let persons unknown sit outside the base in a vessel of unknown capacity." Anat nodded her understanding, reluctantly. "I assure you, they'll be made as comfortable as possible." The two of them left the lift, and joined Jacob and Sam in the briefing room.

"Incredible," Anat whispered.

"What's the latest word on SG-1, Sir?" Sam asked, anxiously.

"No word, Major," Hammond replied. "We've opened the gate twice since they missed their check in, and they haven't responded to our signals."

"I'd like to lead a rescue mission through the Gate, Sir," Sam requested. "As soon as possible."

"That's a negative, Major Carter. The second time we sent a MALP through to try and boost the signal; it was destroyed almost as soon as it emerged from the gate. We barely had time for the probe to send back an image, but we counted at least seven individuals watching the Gate. I refuse to send any personnel through the Gate at this time."

"Then when, Sir?" Sam demanded. "My team are stranded, maybe imprisoned..."

"Major Carter, you are out of line," Hammond told her. "Now you know I care about what happens to SG-1, but I'm not sending you or anyone else through that Gate into a turkey shoot." Sam sat back, angry and frustrated, but knowing that the General did not deserve to be the target of that anger.

"Jacob," Hammond said. "Do the Tok'ra have any diplomatic contact with a planet called Arcadia?" Jacob looked up, frowning.

"Yes, we do. This mission was to Thebes?" Hammond nodded. "We don't deal with the Thebans, because their homeland is in Goa'uld hands, but we've had dealings with the Spartii, on the far side of their great ocean, for years. We'd sometimes use Spartus as a staging base to arrange 'hunting accidents' for Goa'uld on safari in Thebes." He paused for a long moment, deep in thought.

"A few months ago, when Helios disappeared, we began to make advances to the Thebans. We sent some delegations, but we're still I the early stages. Tok'ra diplomacy can be pretty sluggish sometimes. Recently, we've had reports from a number of our allies of humans launching attacks through the Stargate system. Reports said that these humans wore SGC uniforms, with SG-1 patches."

"What!" Sam was appalled. "And you didn't tell me this because...?"

"I was instructed not to, and Selmak agreed with that instruction. I figured it must be another NID rogue team or similar; or maybe the Russians were up to something. But until we were sure, I wasn't to..." He looked uncomfortable, as though he had a headache. "Selmak feels I shouldn't be telling you this now, but I think it's important. We had word that the Thebans had come under such an attack, but I didn't know you were sending a diplomatic approach," he assured Sam. "The expression the Spartii used to describe the Heptarch was 'spitting blood'. That's why I wasn't very chatty at Mark's," he added, apologetically.

"Astarte had our uniforms," Sam said. "The ones we wore when we were zapped into Anat's world."

"But what does she gain by it?" Jacob asked.

"She gets SG-1 delivered into her hands," Anat replied.

"But SG-1 aren't a diplomatic team," Sam protested. "Okay. That came out more critical of us than I intended, but possibly fair, but still..."

"Dr Jackson and Teal'c were only along because SG-2 were out of the picture," Hammond admitted. "But the invitation explicitly referred to Colonel O'Neill."

"This was all aimed at the Colonel," Sam realised. "Sir, we have to do something."

"Well, I'm open to suggestions," Hammond agreed. "But without the Gate..."

"We can fly," Anat reminded them. Hammond nodded, albeit reluctantly. "You don't trust us?"

"I don't know you," Hammond corrected. "And Major Carter can only vouch for you..."

"I'll vouch for my crew," Anat insisted. "You can trust them as much as me, because I'd know if they were lying to me." She looked to Sam for support.

"That's true, General," Sam confirmed. "It's pretty uncanny, actually."

"I'm still not sure. Could the Tok'ra provide a transport?"

"The Tok'ra are still waiting to see what comes of this complaint against you," Jacob replied. "And our current base is further from Arcadia than Earth is."

"And," Anat added. "A Tok'ra teltac won't be as fast as the Hope."

*

Jack leaped to his feet, backing away from Astarte as she approached him with the Goa'uld writhing in her hands, and a seductive smile on her lips.

"I'd make a really bad Goa'uld," he told her. "I get real cranky when I'm sharing my skull with an overblown tapeworm."

"You underestimate yourself," she assured him. "You will make an excellent consort."

"I'll be an excellent shell!" Jack retorted, angrily. Stay angry, Jack; keeps you thinking straight. "With that thing inside me. Flattering as it might be to think a woman who looks...the way you do is interested in me" - Astarte smiled at that - "the fact that what you really want to do is let your little friend walk around inside me makes the whole thing just a little bit shallow."

Astarte held the Goa'uld to her shoulder, and it twined itself around her neck in an affectionate, serpentine embrace. She took a step towards him, and he took a step back. "Jack," she chided, sweetly.

"No!" Jack responded, not bothering to conceal his fear. "You keep that thing away from me, or so help me..." The guards came to attention again, but Astarte merely nodded, her expression saddened but accepting. She beckoned, and Rehetep stepped to her side. She reached out, and the Goa'uld slithered down her arm and into the Jaffa's belly pouch. After a glance at Jack's still wary face, she made a brief gesture to order Rehetep from the room.

"There," she said. "Is that better." Jack shot her a disbelieving look. "Now, Jack; don't be childish. Not when I've gone to so much trouble to bring you here."

"You made the attacks," Jack surmised.

Astarte nodded. "After I disposed of Helios, I planned to hide here for at least a year. It is a very pleasant place, after all." She reached out and took Jack's hand in hers. "It is a little too isolated for ruling a grand alliance, but for when we wanted a little time to ourselves..." Jack caught his free hand straying towards her hips as she stepped in closer, and brought it back to his side.

"Like a little place in the country?" He asked. "You like to plan ahead, don't you?"

"But then your comrades came through the Chappa'ai," the Goa'uld continued. "And I saw an opportunity. I used your uniforms and weapons to stir up anger against the Tau'ri - a proven tactic - and persuaded the Heptarch to invite you, the famous Jack O'Neill, to come to Arcadia; ostensibly to talk, but actually to answer for your crimes."

"And how did you persuade him, exactly?" Jack squirmed somewhat, the proximity of Astarte's body becoming unnervingly comfortable.

"Oh, don't be jealous, Jack," Astarte told him with a light, dancing laugh. "He has had nothing of me."

He would not need to, Jack realised, remembering how the Heptarch had responded to her presence. The poor fool was so besotted, he would do anything for Astarte, beyond hope or expectation of reward.

"You are the fickle one, Jack," she teased. "Throwing me over for your Major Carter." Jack began to protest, but she cut him off by laying a finger over his lips. "Then leaving her for this child. And now..." she tailed off, running a finger lightly down Jack's chest. He realised with a start that she had draped his arm around her waist, then released it, and that he had made no move to take it away again. He did so now, and stepped away from her as best he was able.

"You know," he said, gesticulating wildly so as to form a barrier between them with his flailing hands. "It is in fact possible for someone to care about a person without sleeping with them. Sure, I care about Sam, and I care about Amy, but that's not the same as..." He stopped himself short of saying 'how I feel about you', and made a break for the window. Astarte let him go, but trailed silently in his wake. He leaned on the sill, breathing heavily to clear his mid in the clean, cool air.

"Jack," Astarte whispered in his ear.

"Dyow!" Jack started, not having realised she had come so close to him. She had caught him off guard, but ultimately that was good, because it reminded him how dangerous she was.

"I would hardly go to so much trouble for a shell, Jack. I think you're strong enough to make something more interesting than just another host, or I wouldn't bother."

"Again, I'm flattered," Jack assured her, turning to face her. She was very close again, but with the air and the adrenaline, her proximity was less confusing; more menacing. "But if I want to test my strength I'll use one of those boards with a bell and a hammer." Astarte's look of genuine perplexity was almost touching, but Jack dug his fingernails into the palm of his hand and held firm.

The Goa'uld smiled gently. "We have time to discuss this further," she promised him. She reached down and took his clenched hand, peeling his fingers back with surprising strength to examine the nail marks. "Do you have a fondness for pain," she asked, in a sultry tone. "I'm sure you know that I could accommodate that." She bent and tenderly kissed the row of tiny dents. Jack felt his skin flame, and then she bit him.

"Son of a...!" He snapped, but it was not a hard bite. Just a firm pinch on the pad of his palm; enough to get his attention.

"Listen to me, Jack," she told him, straightening, sliding a hand behind his head and holding him close. "You have a simple choice ahead of you. You may choose to become my consort, with all the power and rewards that will bring. Do this," she went on, silencing him again with a finger to his lips. "And you may keep Doctor Jackson and the Jaffa."

"Keep?" Jack could hardly believe his ears.

"To release, if you wish; or to do with as you see fit," Astarte explained. "but their lives shall be yours. Or you may choose to decline my offer, in which case I will can give your body to my young friend anyway. Remember, Jack; your consent is unimportant. I ask only as a courtesy to you. If you force me to this course, then I will make you watch what I do to your friends." Jack's blood ran cold, remembering Teal'c's screams as Astarte worked her tortures on him. "Or if you are less strong than I hoped, perhaps I can make you watch what you do to your friends," she mused, once again very much the Goa'uld in his eye. "Either way, they die."

Astarte stepped away from him, and motioned the Jaffa forward. "I will give you time to decide," she told him. "I desire to speak with your friends, and have no wish for you to rush such an important decision." Jack could find nothing to say as the Jaffa began to lead him away. At the door however, he turned. Astarte had returned to her place by the window, although without such careful arranging the camouflage effect was lessened.

"What about Amy?" He asked. "If..." he hated himself for even asking it. "If I say yes, what happens to her?"

"I have not decided," Astarte replied. "I will let you know. Get some rest now, Jack. Think about what I am offering."

*

Time passed, and Rede was just beginning to feel healthy enough to worry when a group of Thebans came into view. At the head of the group was a tall woman, who looked enough like Rede's chief captor to be a close relative. As she approached, she led by the hand a small boy, perhaps eight or nine, with a melancholy expression.

"Damia," Rede's captor greeted her.

"Theos," she responded, with a hug which confirmed that they were family. "I'm sorry we were so late. There was another attack while we were in the city." Rede pricked up her ears. "The Hoplites said that two of the Tau'ri left the diplomatic quarters and raided the power plant. Echthonus said that the surveillance devices showed two men in SG-1 uniforms."

"Faces?"

Damia shook her head. "Just the names: O'Neill and Jackson." Rede sat up in confusion. What was going on? "What's she doing here?" Damia asked.

"We received word that one of the Tau'ri had been lost in the tunnels," Theos replied. "So we went looking, and got lucky." He motioned towards the boy with her head. "Did you...?"

"Yes. Echthonus got us in, and Ion was able to see the Tau'ri."

"And?" Damia tugged gently on the boy's hand.

"It wasn't them," Ion reported.

"I knew it!" Theos shouted, triumphantly. "And I bet the damned Heptarch knew it as well."

"Excuse me," Rede said, in a small voice. "But could I ask what's going on?"

After a moment's hesitation, Theos turned to her and spoke: "My name is Theos," he began. "This is my sister Damia."

"Jacqueline Rede," she replied, standing and giving a formal bow. Theos and Damia returned to gesture.

"You know our ways," Damia noted. Rede acknowledged the compliment with a modest nod.

"The boy, Ion, is one of the few people to survive one of the raids carried out by SG-1. Every time there is an attack, it seems that at least one person would live long enough to send a telegraph identifying their attackers by their uniforms, but not to describe them. The surveillance devices at some of the larger research institutes recorded the same details, but seemed never to catch their faces; or if they did, the recordings were removed."

"So you were suspicious?"

"To say the least. The Heptarch never questioned the evidence, and there were rumours..."

"We have a few friends in the Council Hall," Damia explained. "There were reports that there were survivors of some of the raids, but they were sent to the Palace and never came back. So when Ion was found in the ruins of his village, we did not take him to the Heptarch."

"The Palace was the abode of Helios?" Rede asked.

Theos nodded. "Now home to the sorceress, Circe. She has done much good for the people of Thebes, and more for its rulers. But she asks much in return."

"Goods, technology; people," Damia said. "And those who go to be her servants...come back, changed."

"She commands great loyalty," Theos continued. "So great that men and women have abandoned their families to serve her more diligently. The Heptarch is completely under her spell," he added, venomously.

Rede nodded her understanding. "But the Heptarch is the husband of..." She broke off as Theos turned suddenly away.

"The Pythoness. Yes," Damia affirmed. "But not by her will."

"She is his pawn, like he is Circe's," Theos growled, turning away. Rede flinched at the hate in his voice.

"Forgive my brother," Damia said. "Zoë grew up in this village; before she became the Pythoness. They were...friends."

Theos kicked a stone violently at the wall of a nearby house. "Aristeias is a pig," he said. "And no sooner were our people free of the Jaffa patrols than he hired Spartian mercenaries to keep us under control." He sat on the bench, at the far end from Rede. "Circe guided the Council through the early days; kept our people from panic and chaos. The Hoplites were part of that, there to make us feel safe and to keep order.

"But when Clio died and named Zoë as her successor, Aristeias forced the marriage, and had the Hoplites attack anyone who protested."

"She didn't look happy with the arrangement," Rede told him. "Nor with what happened to us."

"She probably knew nothing of the Heptarch's plan, and very little of what led up to it. Aristeias forces her to keep to the Temple when she is not in Council, and controls the information going in and out." Theos clenched his fists in helpless rage.

"I can't promise that Earth will help you break free of the Heptarch's control," Rede said. "But we will want to rescue our people, and that sets us against Circe. If I can get back through the Stargate..."

"The Chappa'ai is guarded by twenty Hoplites. We have only five fighters worth the mentioning, and no weapons."

"Then can you get to our equipment? The Gate will be opened from the other side, and I could send a message through." Theos shook his head again.

"If your gear were still in the Council Halls, yes," Damia told her. "But it too was moved to the Palace."

"Damnit!" Rede swore. She sat, deep in thought, realising that a great deal of importance had been missing from the cultural and political accounts given by SG-2, and that this must have been the result of a deliberate obfuscation. At the heart of the deception was the biggest missing piece; the most glaring omission. "Where is this palace?"

*

"Any joy, Teal'c?" Daniel asked.

"I have discovered several promising possibilities," the Jaffa replied. "Unfortunately all of them have proven to be dead ends."

"Dummy air vents, loose stones in immovable surroundings, soft mortar for a half-inch over solid rock; what kind of a crazy cell is this?" Amy demanded.

"This is the cell for problem prisoners," Daniel theorised. "The escape artists."

"How do you make that out?"

"Well, it's like the camp in the Great Escape. You put all the escape risks where you can best control them. Not by watching them, but by pre-empting them. So you put in all these false starts..."

"...and the prisoner spends all his time digging down to the solid rock," Amy realised. "Instead of picking up anything the builders might actually have overlooked."

"Thus simultaneously disheartening him, and making him engage in displacement activities that are a complete waste of time."

"Ingenious," Teal'c commented.

"But not ingenious enough," Amy added, smiling at Daniel.

"I don't know about that," the archaeologist demurred. "I mean, I really wish I'd figured it out an hour ago," he added, ruefully examining his cracked and battered fingertips. "Before I'd tried to unscrew a vent panel with my bare hands." There was an embarrassed pause, as the other two considered their own, similar injuries.

The locks on the cell door clunked open, and the three of them rushed to try and conceal the evidence of their activity. Two Jaffa prodded Jack through the door with their hunting goads, and one took in the prisoners' dishevelled, dust-covered appearance and laughed. After a moment, his comrade saw what was so funny and joined in.

"Of course," Daniel admitted. "It may just be way the guards get their kicks. Hi, Jack," he added. "How've you been?"

"Not bad. Standard 'offer I can't refuse'." Daniel opened his mouth to reply, but never got the chance.

"You!" The first guard stopped laughing and pointed at Daniel.

"Yes?"

"Come with us."

"Looks like its my turn," Daniel said, trying to hide his anxiety.

"Careful, Danny," Jack warned. "She's way more dangerous than she looks. Keep reminding yourself that she's Goa'uld." Daniel nodded his thanks, and the guards led him away. Amy frowned with concern.

"What'll they do to him?" She asked.

Jack shrugged. "Not sure. I don't think she's in a torturing mood today though," he added, with some relief. "He should be okay. So long as he doesn't..." He tailed off.

"Colonel O'Neill?" Teal'c asked, concerned.

"Well; he does have a habit of pissing off Goa'uld."

Amy swallowed hard. "What did she do to you?"

"Talked," Jack said. "Mostly."

"About?"

"Well...Y'know. GDO codes; base defences..."

"Colonel. Please. Don't protect me," Amy implored. "I worked hard to get here. I deserve this posting; I earned it. I just want you to treat me with the same respect you would any other officer. If that means telling me to shut up and mind my own, then fine. But please don't dissemble. Just tell it to me straight."

Jack gave her a rueful frown. "Okay," he admitted. "You're right. You know you shouldn't be here..."

"...That General Hammond only assigned me to the mission because no crisis was expected. Yes, Sir."

"Don't interrupt a senior officer, lieutenant," Jack ordered, sternly.

"Sorry, Sir," she replied, sheepishly. "I guess I asked for that," she added, as Jack relented with a slight smile. He nodded. "You're still evading though. So I figure either she wants to sleep with you...or do to you what happened to Charles."

Jack looked uncomfortable. "A little from column A; a little from column B. And I'm worried she'll use you lot to get to me." There was another uncomfortable silence. "Don't all leap to reassure me at once."

"O'Neill, you know as well as I do that if this Astarte is anything like the one we encountered, I could not stand up to her tortures for more than a few hours."

"Thanks. That helps," Jack said. "No wait; it doesn't. And this is that Astarte," he added. "Probably should have told Daniel that, but...I'm just no good at this multiple universes stuff."

"We'll pull through," Amy promised. "I mean, come on. I've seen the files. I know you've come through worse than this." Jack smiled at the young officer, and tried hard to pretend that he believed her.

*

"It's about bloody time," Cally snarled, when Sam and Anat came to collect her and Jason from the holding area, a thick Scot's burr distorting the brawny woman's words almost to incomprehensibility. Sam could understand the woman's anger; after all, they had come a long way to offer help, then been locked up. "We off now?"

"No," Anat replied. "We're going to give your engines a bit of an outing."

"Aye? I'd better go check up on them then," the older woman said. She appeared to be trying to stay angry, but the prospect of an interplanetary flight was clearly exciting for her, another emotion Sam could well understand. Ever since she was a little girl, she had dreamed of being an astronaut, and she had almost come to blows with her father when he had pulled strings to get her transferred to the shuttle programme, only for her to turn the opportunity down.

At the time he had not been blended with Selmak, and knew nothing of the Stargate. She could not tell him then that she was regularly travelling to places more extraordinary than Earth's orbit, and had already been on board a shuttle when she was rescued after the destruction of Apophis' attack fleet. While her primary motivation for arranging for Jacob to blend with Selmak had been in order to prevent his death from cancer, Sam had been glad of the chance to finally open up to her father. Sadly - as shown by the reported attacks by SG-1 - the still-uneasy alliance between the Tau'ri and the Tok'ra meant that there still were - and probably always would be - secrets between father and daughter.

"I'd better get working as well," Jason said. "If we're going to activate the transmat drives, I'll need to stabilise the energy matrix in the QRF generator. Sam; I could use a hand," he added.

"Well; I'm still getting my head around the theory," Sam reminded him. "But sure; if you think it'll help."

"I know this isn't my area," Sam said, about thirty minutes later. "But won't these settings prevent the generator actually..." she searched for a word.

"Generating?" Jason asked, repositioning a handful of cables and taping them firmly to the side of the generator housing.

"Uh...yeah."

"Well, yes it will; at least at full power. The field will retain sufficient strength to deflect the risk of TEC failure, but we won't be able to perform any kind of dimensional cross-travel. We shouldn't have to do that anyway, but what's most important is that on settings these low, the generator's power use is stable. At higher levels it becomes unpredictable, and that can interfere with the transmat drives."

"You mean the hyperspace engines?" Sam asked, stepping back to admire their handiwork. The Quantum Resolution Field generator now bristled with trinium control rods and power dispersion veins. She wiped the back of her hand across her forehead; the work had not been hard, but without time to fully power-down the generator, it had been very hot working so close to it.

"You know what the problem with Goa'uld technology is?" Jason asked, seemingly apropos of nothing.

"They use it to kill people?" Sam hazarded.

"It's static," Jason replied. "They steal everything they use. It's all very advanced stuff compared to Earth's technology - particularly my Earth - but they don't really understand how it works. How to make it, and how to repair it, sure; but with a tiny handful of exceptions, they don't have any grasp of the theory behind it."

"Which means that it never advances," Sam said, catching his drift. "They never develop anything new unless they steal it from somewhere else."

"Which is why they could never come up with something like this," he indicated the generator. "Or repair the Ancients' intergalactic Gate booster; or develop something like the transmat drive." He settled himself comfortably on a rail around the generator, and took a long swig from a water bottle. Like Sam, he was sweating from the work, and dressed only in a now off-white vest, looked like a refugee from a Diet Coke advert. Sam shook her head to clear the image, sitting on the rail next to him, facing slightly away to hide a small smile.

Although she was not looking at him, Sam could not help but notice that Jason leaned slightly towards her, then scooted along the rail, coming to rest a little further from her. She shook her head again, not knowing what to make of the bashful Jaffa, and not sure she should try too hard.

"Cally created the transmat drive. It works by building a set of transport rings into the hull of the teltac. Then you use the rings' wormhole effect..."

"...to create a short-lived, transient wormhole around the ship!" Sam exclaimed. "So that each moment it's catapulted minutely forward in a fraction of the time it would take to fly the distance in normal space. That's brilliant!"

"They don't just have us along for our looks," Jason assured her. Sam hid another smile. "Or because we won't disintegrate forty-eight hours after arrival. Of course, you have to get out of the solar system in normal space, otherwise you end up in a temporal loop and there's no telling when - or if - you'll come out. And there's a few other teething troubles."

"Teething troubles?"

"Well, there's still a small - but not completely insignificant - risk of triggering a catastrophic molecular cascade reaction, transforming the Hope into a giant, fast-moving fusion core; blasting the ship and everyone on it into their component fundamental particles and scattering them to the farthest reaches of the universe."

"Oh," Sam replied. "Well; I suppose you'd still be going places." She looked round at Jason, and saw that her attempt at humour had not got quite the reaction she had anticipated. The Jaffa actually looked like he was in pain. "Are you okay , Jason?" she asked, laying a hand on his arm. He leaped up as though her palm were on fire.

"I'm fine. It's just...complicated," he replied. "I should go clean up. You might want to take a shower before we go too. It'll take a day or so even using the transmat drive to get there, and we don't have room for bathing water supplies." Sam nodded her agreement; Jason might look good, but he really did not smell it just at the moment, and neither did she.

When Sam returned from the shower block, there was no sign of Jason in the main hold. SG-14 - a combat support squad under Major James Hamilton - were settling into the limited seating in the hold. Anat came over to Sam as she entered.

"Well, this is fun," she said.

"Problems?"

"Just that this bunch of clowns don't seem to have much respect for civilians," Anat replied with a frustrated blush. Sam regarded the four members of SG-14, joking and horsing around in the off-colour way she had often noticed in all-male units. While the SGC usually operated mixed-gender teams, she knew that the more combat-oriented teams were still prohibited by policy from including female members.

"Don't worry about them," Sam said. "I'll take care of it." She stepped forward, giving the soldier a three-count to notice her before she barked out, in her best drill-officer voice: "SG-14! Attention!" As one, the four men leaped to their feet and saluted. Although both held the rank of major, on this mission, Sam was to be the commanding officer, as she was both older and more experienced that Hamilton. "The crew of this vessel are our allies," she told them. "Their goodwill is important, and while they don't bear military ranks, they are all soldiers. You will treat them with the same respect as you would any allied officer, or you will answer to me." She paused, looking around the chamber. "Understood!"

"Sir, yes Sir," SG-14 chorused.

Sam gave each man a searching glare, holding them at attention for another twenty-or-thirty seconds. "At ease," she said at last, allowing them to relax. "As you were." She turned back to Anat. "See. No trouble."

"Some 'officer'; running, blabbing to the Major," one of the soldiers muttered. The man he was speaking to elbowed him in the ribs, seeing Sam catch the comment. She walked over to stand in front of him. He was five inches taller than Sam, and had maybe a hundred pounds on her, but she had a good ten years, she had rank, and she was mad as hell.

"If you have a problem with my orders, lieutenant, then you take it up with me, and we can find you a posting somewhere else; I understand the Air Force runs some very cosy little listening posts in Alaska. If you have a problem with our hosts, you will take that up with me, since I need my troops mobile, and the last guy I saw get on the wrong side of Anat could barely walk unaided for the better part of a day." The lieutenant looked nervous. "That was Teal'c," she added, and the man blanched, shooting a fearful look at the small, red-haired girl. "As you were," Sam said again. She and Anat went through to the cockpit.

"That was pretty scary," Anat said.

"I didn't get where I am today without learning to bust a few heads," Sam told her. "I'm sorry about dragging your past out, but..." Anat shrugged.

"I understand. And it was worth it to see the look on his face," she added.

"Are the crew aboard?"

Anat nodded. "Finishing up the engine tuning. We're just waiting for your father," she said.

"Dad's coming?" Sam asked, somewhat thrown. It would be one thing to give the troops a chewing out if she were the CO, but if she was being reassigned to 2IC, things could be more difficult, and any orders she had issued on her own initiative might be ignored or overruled. She was also annoyed because General Hammond had given her the command of this mission, and she did not like the idea of being bumped down again. It did not bode well for her chances of getting her own command any time soon.

"Relax, Sam," Jacob said, entering the cockpit behind them. He was dressed in his Tok'ra outfit, rather than his Air Force uniform. "I'm coming along strictly as a representative of the Tok'ra Council. This is still your baby." Sam nodded, gratefully, glad that he understood her concerns. "You seem to be doing pretty well," he added. "Looks like you put the fear of Carter into those kids back there."

"Fear of Carter?" Anat asked.

"A popular expression in Dad's old commands," Sam explained, flattered that he used the term in reference to her. "It means I let them know who's in charge."

"They didn't know already?" Anat asked, her brow creasing in confusion.

Sam smiled. "I'm beginning to see where you and Teal'c have a lot in common," she said. 

Anat smiled shyly and focused her attention on the control panel. "All systems are cleared for take off." Sam nodded, and radioed to the base for clearance.

"You're good to go," General Hammond's voice announced. "Godspeed, Major."

Anat activated the controls, and the teltac rose swiftly into the air. "Assuming all goes well, we should take about twenty-seven hours to reach Arcadia," She told the two Carter's. "We should all get some sleep during the flight."

"What if all doesn't go to plan?" Jacob asked.

Anat shrugged. "We die in a trans-dimensional fireball of potentially apocalyptic magnitude. But it won't hurt any to be rested when it happens."

Jacob raised an eyebrow, and asked: "Have you ever thought about going into advertising?"

*

Daniel was led to the same chamber that Jack had been taken to for his interview. The curtains had been pulled back, allowing the afternoon sun to wash into the room, and Astarte had changed back into the plain, dark robe she had worn as 'Circe' in the Council Hall. She sat on a small couch, and motioned for Daniel to sit on a chair opposite her. On a small table between the two lay a tray with a decanter and two glass goblets, and as Daniel warily accepted her invitation, Astarte poured each of them a drink of wine.

"Please relax, Dr Jackson," Astarte said. "If I intended you harm, you would know it by now." She handed him one of the goblets, and as he accepted she noticed the state of his fingers. "I see you have been making use of your time." She gestured curtly over her shoulder. "How did you find your accommodations?"

"We were dragged down the hall by a Jaffa, and there they were," Daniel replied. Astarte gave a delighted laugh, and suddenly Daniel understood what Jack had meant by his warning.

"You are not a warrior, but you are very brave," she said. A girl approached with a small dish of water and a cloth, and knelt before Daniel's chair. "Please. Allow my servant to tend your hands. I would not wish to be found inhospitable."

"No. Heaven forbid that you should neglect the needs of those humble travellers you've had flung into your dungeons." Daniel set his wine down, untouched, and held out his hands to the girl. He had sustained far worse injuries on digs without ill-effects, and he had no objection to getting his hands dirty, but it seemed safe enough, and kept Astarte from insisting he drink the wine.

"I know a little about you, Daniel...May I call you Daniel?"

"I suppose so. May I call you Astarte?" Daniel was curious to know if she would deny the name in private, but whatever her reply, had little intention of allowing himself to feel on first name terms with her; she was too dangerous by far.

"Of course, Daniel. No pretence is needed with you and your companions." She sipped her wine, delicately. Daniel was fairly certain she had drunk from the goblet, but that was not enough to convince him that it was not drugged. "I know that you decoded the Stargate after it had defied generations of researchers. I know that you and Jack O'Neill defeated and killed Ra, and I know that you and your companions have been a plague to the System Lords ever since."

"I've always been rather proud of that," Daniel assured her, wincing slightly as the servant poured a trickle of alcohol over his cuts.

"I know also what was done to you by Apophis. That he took your wife for his Queen, Amaunet." Daniel looked away from her, his face darkening at the memories. "And I know what Hathor did to you." Daniel was startled by the venom in Astarte's voice when she spoke of Hathor. "So I know that you - perhaps more than anyone in your world - has reason to hate my kind."

"This is very interesting," Daniel said. "Really. But I know all these things. I was there."

"As I am sure you know, Apophis is now by far the most powerful of the System Lords."

"It's been a little hard to miss."

"Just as I am sure you know that your government have been considering an alliance with Apophis for some time."

"What?" Daniel asked. He shook his head, withdrawing his half-bandaged fingers from the servant girl. "I'm sorry, that came out wrong. I mean: What!? No. Don't bother; I know it's a lie."

"No lie, Daniel. There have been emissaries sent and received. Do you think that Apophis has no operatives on Earth? I have my agents, and I have only been in this universe a short time."

"This...You're the Astarte from Napoleon's world."

Astarte gave a weary sigh. "Jack did not tell you? Oh dear; I hope I do not have to go through this with each of your companions."

"But if you've been here that long...?"

"Why haven't I been killed by Temporal Entropic Cascade Failure? Because, Daniel, I studied Samantha Carter's notes very carefully, and realised that this universe would not be big enough for two Astartes." Daniel paled. "So as soon as I was able, I removed my counterpart from the field."

"You...killed yourself?" Daniel asked, stunned by the cold-bloodedness with which she described it.

Astarte cocked her head thoughtfully to one side, a disarmingly innocent expression, so at odds with the subject that Daniel could hardly believe the woman actually understood what she was saying. "I suppose you could say that," she said at last, with a lazy smile. "The Tau'ri of this world are far more amusing than those under Napoleon."

"That's what a century of not being oppressed will do for you," Daniel surmised.

Astarte nodded, conceding the point. "My people have so much to learn from yours," she said. "Their reliance on force makes them creatures of the past."

"While you are the future?"

"I could be," she replied. "Will you hear me out?"

"I am a captive audience," Daniel replied. "But I won't promise not to laugh."

"Powerful elements of your government are in discussion to reach terms for an alliance with Apophis, and to sever all ties with the Asgard."

"Why would they do that?" Daniel asked. "The Asgard are our friends."

"The Asgard give you their protection, but it will be worthless against the army Apophis is gathering. They do not give you weapons to defend yourself, or even the tools with which to develop such technology for yourselves."

"They have a policy of non-interference."

"It is not I you need to convince of these things," Astarte warned. "But this is not the worst of it. Apophis' ambassadors have uncovered a simple weakness in your country's armour, and are exploiting it. You see; the Asgard have no concept of wealth, no possessions and no religion. They own no property, and have only a loose hierarchy based on duty and responsibility."

"So? They've moved beyond material possessions and power-mongering."

"There is a word, Daniel. A word your people use for such a society..."

Daniel groaned. "You have got to be kidding."

"You know that the leaders of your nation would do it. They have done it before."

"They'd make an alliance with Apophis." Astarte nodded. "Who tried to destroy Earth." Another nod. "On the grounds that the Asgard are...Communists?"

"We understand each other, Daniel."

"And you have an alternative?"

"I can provide everything that Apophis is offering, and with fewer strings. I can not muster numbers to rival his, but with the size of Earth's population, you can."

"Well; that's very kind of you. But you know, our record when dealing with Goa'uld Queens is kind of shaky. I doubt I could persuade my people to go along with it." He paused briefly. "Oh. Plus I don't trust you as far as I could throw you, and as Sam would point out, I throw like a girl."

"I am truly sorry for what you suffered at Hathor's hands," Astarte told him, with such sincerity that he almost believed her. "But do not be blinded by the past. The Tau'ri can form an impressive resistance on the ground, but you can not hope to defeat Apophis' force in space."

"I've heard that before. We've always managed."

"You have been both skilled and lucky," Astarte told him. "Do not let pride and pain destroy you now. And do you think that you can never trust a Goa'uld Queen? Shall I tell you something that I learned on Chulak?"

"I have a feeling you're going to anyway."

"Amaunet, Apophis' Queen, told one of her handmaidens that she knew that you were hiding from her husband on Abydos, and did not reveal your presence." Daniel stared at Astarte in amazement. She was good. "I know how it ended for your wife, and I am sorry. But I think you are the best placed of your people to understand what a treaty with Apophis would mean for your world. Your Stargate programme would be shut down, and your world left defenceless against Apophis' armada. Even if your people would not listen to my proposal, perhaps you and I, and a few others, might find a way to prevent this." Daniel simply looked sceptical.

"Daniel. I have learned much about this universe, but the aid of someone who has lived in it and travelled as you have travelled would be of inestimable value to me. With your aid, I might stand a chance of overthrowing Apophis, by guile and subversion, instead of force of arms. The other System Lords will seek to stand in open combat, and will fall before him. Your leaders will hand your world to him on a plate. I am the only chance your world has."

Daniel watched Astarte for a long moment, then laughed out loud. "Well...That's an interesting way to look at it," he admitted. "So for the sake of argument let's say I accepted. What would be in it for me."

Astarte eyed him shrewdly. "Do you expect me to try and seduce you, Daniel?" She asked. "My interests lie elsewhere, as I am sure you know. And I credit you with more intelligence and self-discipline than that." She turned her face bashfully to the floor, and gave him a sly look through her long lashes. "Although I hear that you are quite the ladies man." Daniel blushed. "What is in it for you?" Astarte repeated, sobering rapidly. "Vengeance. The destruction and humiliation of the one who stole your wife."

"I'm not a huge fan of vengeance," Daniel told her, not entirely honestly. He had once threatened to murder a helpless Apophis with his bare hands, and meant it. The once-lord of Chulak had cheated death far too often for Daniel's liking, but he was not about to join forces with one conqueror to destroy another; not even Apophis.

Astarte raised an eyebrow, sceptically. "Are you not? Well then, there is always power and wealth. Not to mention the opportunity to protect your home."

"Avarice and altruism? It's tempting," Daniel admitted. "But if it's all the same to you, I'd rather just go back to my cell now. You see, I can't really see any difference between Apophis attacking the Earth, and you attacking the Earth, and since I'm not much for power and wealth either..."

"I will leave the option open to you, Daniel," Astarte told him, gesturing for her Jaffa. "But you should know that - whatever you decide - I intend for Jack O'Neill to be my consort. If you wish to live, I would advise that you give serious thought to persuading him to accept that offer."

Daniel nodded. "Yes. I could do that..." he began.

*

Rede followed behind Theos and Damia, mentally cursing the misfortune that had beset this whole mission, and trying to fight a nagging fear that her blithe assurances that everything would be straightforward really had jinxed the mission. Maybe Jack was right; we should have brought a tank. Now she was the team's last hope, which was a daunting prospect.

"So; tell me more about this Palace?" She said.

"It was the centre of power in our lands during the reign of the Sun God," Theos explained. "His home in Arcadia, from which he transmitted his wisdom and law to the Pythoness. Now it is the home of Circe."

"And she destroyed Helios?" Rede asked, as the young Theban led her through the thick forest. She had exchanged her formal suit for a simple smock and skirt and a pair of heavy boots which Damia had lent her.

"She appeared the same day Helios vanished," Theos explained. "And told us that she had put him to flight. Clio confirmed that Helios was gone, and that the people of Thebes were free of him, and the Magistrates unanimously voted for the priesthood to continue to be our spiritual leaders. Clio declared Circe our friend and our saviour, and that was that."

"And what happened after that?"

"Well, first they brought in the Hoplites to keep order, and their leaders started making trouble with the priesthood. The Spartii never followed Helios; they called him a false god, and he considered them a rabble; not worth the trouble of conquest. They swore allegiance to the Heptarch, but made it clear that they distrusted Helios' servants. The feeling was mutual. A few of the more outspoken priestesses wanted to send them away, but Circe insisted that they were needed. Others wanted to disband the priesthood altogether, but Clio favoured adapting it to a non-religious form; a sort of spiritual academy. When she died the priesthood almost split, but Zoë held them together."

"Sounds like a formidable woman," Rede said. "How did Aristeias manage to get a hold over her?"

"Blackmail," Theos replied, bitterly. "He said he would kill any other man who sat on the Heptarch's throne. She thought she might be able to convince the Council to take action against him, but..." He broke off, taking an angry swing at an inoffensive clump of bracken. Rede nodded, silently.

"With Circe behind him," Damia took up. "And the Council's support, there's nothing Zoë can do to curb his power or prevent him using the Spartii to gain control of the country."

"How many rebel groups are there? Groups like yours."

Damia gave a bitter laugh. "None. We're a few dissidents; I wouldn't even call us rebels. We have a few friends in the Council Hall, and a few of the Spartii seem to be worried about Circe's true motives, but we couldn't even muster the strength for a raiding party. Even if we did..."

"What?"

"Echthonus, my contact in the Spartii, has heard a rumour that if rebels ever become a serious threat, the Heptarch will have the Pythoness murdered, and blame the rebels." Theos tore into another blameless piece of unsuspecting flora. "If it were believed, it would be the end for our cause."

"It's more than that," Rede said. "You don't let something like that slip to the guards by accident; they wanted you to know. They probably knew that you have friends among the Spartii and let it get out to you this way."

"Why?" Damia asked. In answer, Rede pointed at Theos.

"So that potential rebels know that she'll die if they try anything; and that it will be their fault. They get the benefit of a deterrent without having to expose their true colours by publicly threatening the Pythoness."

"Gods!" Damia exclaimed. "I don't know how anyone can be so devious."

"It just takes practice; practice you haven't had under Helios. If I had to guess, I'd say that all of these plans are coming from Circe; she's the seasoned player..." She stopped as Theos stopped short. Rede and Damia came to a halt behind him.

"We're getting close to the Palace," he said. "We have to be quiet now; there may be patrols." Rede nodded, and followed as cautiously as she could manage.

After a few more minutes, they crested a low ridge, and Theos pointed down into a low vale. Rede saw immediately what he was pointing at, the Palace of Helios, and caught her breath in alarm.

*

The two Jaffa rudely flung Daniel back into the cell. His glasses were undamaged, and he looked unhurt, yet he lay worryingly still after landing with a muffled grunt on the floor. Amy and Jack crouched beside him, while Teal'c stood and glared at the Jaffa.

"Danny?" Jack asked. "You okay?"

"Daniel?" Amy put out a hand and turned Daniel gently onto his back. He responded by moaning in pain.

"How you feeling?" Jack asked, trying to hide his concern.

"You know all those times I've been beaten up by Jaffa?" Daniel asked, his voice a little slurred. "Amateurs."

"She tortured you?" Amy asked, aghast.

"No. Just gave me a good going over."

"How many fingers?" Jack asked, holding up his hand.

"Three," Daniel replied, correctly. "Don't worry, Jack. I think I'm just a little punch-drunk still. There's no serious damage; just a lot of pain."

"Bastards!" Amy spat at the Jaffa.

Daniel waved his hand dismissively. "Not them," he told her. "Underneath that sweet and sensitive façade, it turns out Astarte isn't just a torturer; she'd also make a pretty good Mafia enforcer."

"I guess you're losing your way with women," Jack teased, motioning for Amy to help lift Daniel onto on of the bunks.

"I just need to learn not to be so brutally honest with Goa'uld," Daniel assured him. "It really isn't healthy."

"You are next," the Jaffa said, pointing at Amy. Jack bunched his fists, ready to defy the guards again, but Daniel caught his arm.

"Don't make a fuss, Jack," he whispered. "The more she thinks you care, the worse it'll be." He laughed, grimacing in pain. "Good thing she doesn't think you like me that much." Jack smiled, grimly.

"I'll be okay," Amy assured him, standing and moving over to the patient Jaffa.

"Don't let her get behind you," Jack warned.

"And whatever you do, try not to get her mad," Daniel added. "I really mean that." Amy nodded her thanks, and was led away.

"Damnit," Jack muttered. "This is all my fault. If we'd killed her when we had a chance..."

"Then we would have died in that other universe," Teal'c reminded him.

"Oh," Daniel mumbled. "Did you tell Amy this was the Astarte from the..." He broke off as Jack nodded. "Good; she said she was thinking of spilling some blood if she had to go through the 'oh you're that Astarte' conversation again."

"Sounds about right."

"Daniel Jackson; what do you suppose she wishes with Lieutenant Kawalsky?" Teal'c asked.

Daniel shrugged. "Same thing she wanted with me. She wants to get to Jack." He turned to face Jack. "Persuade you to come over to her voluntarily," he added.

"Why? She can just put the snake in my head anyway."

"Because then you'd have won," Daniel told him. "She needs you to surrender to her, by hook or by crook. Josephine told me that Astarte was very insecure; that she is clever and charming because she's weak for a Queen. It makes her need to subvert and conquer."

"Wow. That's one messed up girl."

"It is a common failing among the Goa'uld," Teal'c assured them. "But one usually satisfied by force and the use of narcotics such as nishta and the Queen's breath."

"So why'd she wail on you, Danny Boy?" Jack asked. "Not exactly making me like her any better."

"Well, after I turned down an offer to join her megalomaniac crusade, she told me I should talk you into accepting her offer if I wanted to live, and I told her you'd never accept."

"Just that?"

"That was the gist." Daniel paused. "Some of my words may - I admit - have been ill-chosen. 'Crazy as a loon' didn't seem to go over too well; and 'not if you were the last woman in the universe' probably wasn't what she wanted to hear either."

"And this is the crack team they send on the diplomatic missions?" Jack commented, dryly.

"At least I stopped short of telling her that dress made her look fat," Daniel replied, with another pained laugh.

*

After the Jaffa left her in Astarte's private audience chamber, a servant showed Amy to a seat, washed and bandaged her battered fingers, and brought a glass of wine that the young lieutenant stubbornly did not drink.

"Are you not thirsty?" After hearing an account of Jack's interview with Astarte, Amy had steeled herself for the surprise tactics, but nevertheless, the Goa'uld's voice sounded close enough behind her to make her jump.

"I don't drink," Amy replied, defensively.

"An extraordinary evolutionary development," Astarte said, lightly, as she walked around to take her place on the couch again. She was still dressed in the Theban robe, and seemed perfectly at ease.

"I don't drink alcohol," Amy explained, her tone condescending. Astarte nodded, motioned with her hand, and the servant appear with a crystal jug of clear water.

"Please; help yourself," Astarte invited, pouring herself a glass and sipping delicately. "So, my dear. You were one of the travellers who came to my world two months ago. Amy Kawalsky; is that correct?"

"Lieutenant, USAF," Amy affirmed. "I can give you my serial number if you'd like, but that's all you're getting."

"Why so very formal? I am making an effort to be civilised in my dealings with you and your companions, but you do make it difficult."

"You beat the crap out of Daniel. How was that civilised?" Amy demanded, angrily. Astarte gave her a shrewd, penetrating look, that Amy did not like one bit.

"Daniel Jackson. I had heard he was a fascinating individual; I am pleased not to be disappointed. Tell me about your relationship with Jack," Astarte said. Her tone was still light, but the words were clearly an order.

"He's my CO on this mission. That's all."

Astarte tutted gently. "Good soldiers make poor liars. I suppose that might speak well of your ability as a soldier." Amy did not let herself react, either to the insult, or the slightly backhanded compliment. Astarte smiled at her, a warm, genuine smile that felt distinctly unnerving. "Do you know what I admire about your world?"

"It's handy for the shops?" Amy hazarded, drawing a laugh.

"The women," Astarte told her. "I have seen men like those of the Tau'ri elsewhere, but women like you, or Samantha Carter; few other worlds produce anything of the kind. "You probably won't believe me, but I respect you."

"You're right; I don't believe you."

Astarte fixed her again with a penetrating look. "As I said; poor liars."

"Is there..."

"...a point?" Astarte guessed. "Of course, but you mortals are always so impatient. You never stop to just...savour life." She sighed, and the gaze she turned on Amy now was compassionate. "I suppose I can understand that. You are in superb shape, the prime of your life; but how long can that last? Five, ten years before you start to slow down; to grow old. Less than that if you are badly injured. I suspect I would be impatient if I had so little time." The Goa'uld half-turned towards the window. "So little li..."

With sudden violence, Amy started up, flung her glass at the distracted Astarte and bolted for the window. The doors were sure to be locked, but if she could get out and away, she might be able to find a way to contact the SGC. From the corner of her eye, she was dimly conscious of Astarte turning, a look of baffled amazement on her face as she raised her hand defensively. Glass shattered. Amy ripped back the curtains, swinging her leg up over the balcony...and then she stopped.

"It's only a little life," Astarte said, behind her. "But does it mean that little to you?"

A surge of vertiginous fear welled up inside Amy as she stared out of the window, at the two-hundred foot, steep, sheer incline of the hull of a Goa'uld Ha'tak vessel. She gave an involuntary cry as her momentum carried her out past the balcony, but then a strong hand seized her, and dragged her back into the room.

"You see!" Astarte cried, delightedly. Dazed, Amy could only gaze up in astonishment as the Goa'uld laughed like a child with a new toy. Then a chill ran down her spine, as she realised that in such a scenario, she herself was the new toy. "That is precisely what I was talking about. Such boldness, such spirit..." Amy hurled herself at the woman, lashing out with a perfectly-executed strike to the solar plexus. Before she got halfway through the manoeuvre, a blast from Astarte's hand device hurled her, stunned, back to the floor. "...such reckless courage," the Goa'uld continued, as though never interrupted.

"I don't believe you when you deny a deeper relationship to my Jack," Astarte said, crouching next to Amy. Idly, she straightened the girl's hair, and action which seemed ridiculous to Amy when she was lying on the floor in a foetal position. "But you do not seem to be a direct threat to our relationship." Amy laughed, and it hurt because she was winded. "I think that I might find a use for you, Amy Kawalsky."

"Yeah? Great." Amy forced ragged breaths into her lungs. "You wouldn't be so tough without your toys, you know. Lose the hand device, call off the Jaffa; let's you and me go round."

Astarte laughed again. "Oh, dear Amy. There is a lot of Jack O'Neill in you, isn't there."

Amy had been gone for about half-an-hour when the door reopened, and she walked in, under her own power.

"You did better than I did, I see," Daniel commented. He was sitting up now, but looked about ready to collapse any moment.

"For now," Amy replied, distractedly. "Teal'c; I need a second."

"As you wish," Teal'c said, moving towards one side of the room. A little nonplussed, Daniel and Jack nonetheless tried to look and listen elsewhere.

"No," Amy told them all. "I mean I need you to be my second. I kind of threw down on Astarte, and she accepted. We're fighting to the death at sunset. Astarte suggested I ask you to be my second."

"No!" Jack declared. "That's not going to happen."

Daniel looked doubtful. "Well...I share your concern, Jack. I'm just not convinced we can do anything to stop it."

"I can order you not to fight," Jack told Amy.

"You think that'll stop her killing me?" Jack frowned, but could not really argue. "I want you to know I didn't plan this out or anything. I didn't go up there to get into a duel, but I can do this. I've got most of the same training as you or Major Carter, if not the experience. In a fair fight, I reckon I can take her."

Daniel frowned. "I don't know. Josephine told me that Astarte was a...skilled fighter."

"Skilled?" Amy asked.

"The word she used was lethal."

"It is true, Lieutenant Kawalsky," Teal'c assured her. "I saw her fight, once, and she was both quick and deadly."

"Certainly not a girl who's afraid to get her hands dirty," Jack confirmed. Amy's face paled visibly. Jack felt a knife of fear I his heart, suddenly certain that he could do nothing to save Amy Kawalsky; just like he had been unable to save her brother. "Okay, gang," he said, trying hard to sound more confident than he was. "We need a plan. Teal'c?"

"We are unable to leave this cell except under guard, and the guards are too well-drilled to afford us much opportunity to escape."

"I was hoping for something more positive than that," Jack admitted. "Daniel?"

"Well...maybe." Amy cocked her head in Daniel's direction, a glimmer of hope in her eyes. "We know that Astarte has a healthy respect for her own mortality, but what about her guards?" The others looked blankly at him. "They still think she's a goddess; or at least a mighty sorceress," he explained. "So as long as we don't actually threaten her, they are likely to be less alert around her; to think she will take care of everything. Right?"

"Maybe," Jack allowed.

"It doesn't look as thought she was able to bring many of her people through to this universe, so most of her guards are Thebans, and haven't been in training for more than a year. Add the fact that they're all obsessed with her, then put her in a ring, fighting tooth-and-nail with another pretty girl, and what's going to happen?"

"I get killed?" Amy hazarded.

"The Jaffa will be distracted," Teal'c realised. "The majority of Astarte's guards are younger warriors, lacking in experience. They will focus on the most direct threat they perceive to their mistress' well-being, to the exclusion of all else."

Jack nodded, thoughtfully. "So if Amy stalls; fights on the defensive..."

"...then we might have a chance to get free," Daniel finished. "Then we can break up the fight and make our escape."

Amy shook her head. "That's nuts. If you lot can get loose, then you should go. Don't come back..."

"No," Jack replied, firmly. "And this isn't personal, Lieutenant. I just don't like to leave anyone behind."

"Lieutenant Kawalsky is correct," Teal'c asserted. "To return for her would be foolish." He turned to face Amy. "But Colonel O'Neill is also correct, that it would be a cold day in Netu when we would leave a comrade behind to die."

"Cold day in Hell," Jack corrected. "But thanks."

Amy frowned, but could not pretend that she was entirely unhappy with this resolution. "What about getting out of the cell?" She asked, concerned again.

"Don't worry about that," Daniel told her. "There's no way Astarte will let us miss this one."

"Besides," Teal'c added. "I at least will have to be present as your second. If we are correct in our assessment, that should give me ample opportunity to escape."

"What if I see an opening?" Amy asked. "What if I have a chance to kill her?"

"Pass it up," Jack replied. "Her Jaffa might well just shoot you, and I don't feel like giving her a reason to try and jump from her old host into you." Amy shuddered.

The cell door opened once more, and a servant entered, with two guards following him. He placed a tray on the floor, with four wooden cups, a jug of water, four chunks of bread and a plate of meat stew.

"The meat is for the woman," one of the guards informed them. "Circe wishes her strong, so she may face her death with honour."

"Aren't we the optimist," Jack observed. Astarte's servants left without laughing.

"Is it drugged, do you think?" Amy asked.

Teal'c tasted a little of the stew, a sip of water and a crumb of bread. "I feel no ill-effects," he said, after a few minutes. "I would know if my symbiote was removing a drug from my system."

"She probably just wants us to know that she's taking no advantages," Daniel told Amy. "She wants to be sure we know she can beat you."

Amy smiled, nervously. "Scary woman," she said. When Teal'c still showed no sign of collapsing, she picked up the plate and began to eat.

"Do not eat all of it," Teal'c cautioned. "You will fight better without a full stomach." Amy nodded. "If Astarte intends a formal duel by Goa'uld rules, then the combat will require speed and agility. The weapons will be light and fast, intended for shallow, drawing cuts. When your opponent is weakened, only then would you attempt a killing thrust."

"Like knife fighting. Except I won't," Amy added. "Do the killing thrust, that is."

"Indeed."

The door opened a third time, and the servant returned, bearing a pile of cloth and metal.

"And this is...?" Jack asked.

"Formal duelling attire," Teal'c replied. "Thank you," he told the servant. "I will do what is necessary." The servant bowed, and handed the pile over to Teal'c before leaving the cell. Teal'c passed the clothes to Amy, and she looked them over.

"Well; at least it isn't a jewelled fightin' bikini," she allowed. Jack and Daniel averted their eyes as she undressed and changed into the duelling costume. "Hey; this isn't half bad. I mean, I'm not saying I'd wear it around town, but special occasions..."

The two men looked back towards Amy. The outfit consisted of a close-fitting, but not skin-tight, white blouse, and a knee-length white, linen kilt.

"Garbed in skirt and blouse, like a man," Daniel commented.

Jack gave his friend a concerned look. "Took a knock to the head after all?" Amy looked equally baffled.

"My head is fine," Daniel assured them. "It's a quote from a story called the Seed of Pre, about the namesake of our old friend, Anat. As a warrior goddess, she dressed like a man; like that," he added, gesturing towards Amy. "It's a very traditional Egyptian outfit."

Amy nodded her understanding. "Did she win?" She asked.

"Well, she didn't fight in that story, but usually, yes. She ground her brother's killer into powder beneath her heel, and wore her enemies' corpses on her belt," he added. Amy smiled, just a little uncertainly.

"Don't you know any nice girls?" Jack asked.

"I don't seem to have any enemy corpses on me," Amy noted. "So I take it this is the belt?" She held up a strip of leather, studded with metal.

"Indeed," Teal'c agreed. "I will assist you with the armour."

Teal'c buckled the belt around Amy's waist, then fitted a round shield over the buckle to protect her abdomen. She gave a few experimental bends, and found that her movement was only slightly impeded. A bracer was strapped around each wrist, and Teal'c lifted a collar of linked trinium strips over her head. A chain of similar construction attached to the back of the collar, and to the back of the belt, giving some protection to her spine. Finally, there was a small shield, gripped in the left hand.

"This armour doesn't really armour very much, does it."

"Between Goa'uld, duelling technique focuses on speed, skill and agility, and if the fight is not to the death, then whatever damage is done may be repaired later by a sarcophagus. The armour will offer some protection if struck, but is primarily ceremonial." Amy swung her arms a little, working her joints to gain a feel for the armour; where it flexed and where it resisted.

"So why go to all this trouble?" Jack asked. "I thought Goa'uld fights were just a quick-draw match with those hand devices?"

"If two Goa'uld were to clash in earnest, yes," Teal'c agreed. "Blade duelling is an ancient sport, used for resolving formal competition. It was greatly used to settle disputes before the overthrow of Sokar destabilised the alliance of System Lords and made warfare and espionage commonplace. I have not heard of two Goa'uld engaging in such a duel since the death of Ra."

"I suppose without a higher authority, the Goa'uld don't trust each other to honour the outcome," Daniel mused.

"Or to put the loser in a sarcophagus in case of 'accident'," Jack added.

"So tell me straight up," Amy said. "What are my chances of coming through this alive?" Jack and Daniel tried not to meet her eyes. She turned to Teal'c. "That bad?"

"She would not have challenged you if she were not confident of the outcome."

"Terrific." She moved over to a corner of the cell, and sat down, heavily. The three men looked at each other, and after a long pause, Jack moved over and crouched in front of her.

"I'm really sorry about this," he told her.

"Not your fault," Amy replied, listlessly.

"No. It is. All this crap is aimed at me; none of you should be here."

"I knew the risks when I joined up," Amy assured him. "They made it clear what I was getting into before they accepted my transfer to SGC. I didn't walk into this with my eyes closed, and nor did Daniel and Teal'c."

"Why did you transfer?" Jack asked. "I know it's not just to find to what happened to Kawalsky, because Hammond wouldn't have looked twice at your application if it were."

"It was something he said to me; the last leave before..." She choked up for a moment, then went on. "He told me that everything else in his job had started to seem meaningless. He never let on, but he'd been about yay close to resigning when he got picked up by the SGC. He didn't tell me the name of course, but he did tell me that he felt that he was where he was needed. That more than he had for years, he felt like he was doing something that really mattered. And I wanted to be a part of that."

Jack smiled, wistfully, feeling a clutch of nostalgia, as well as recognising only too well the sentiment. "I know how he felt," he told Amy.

"Yeah. Me too."

Jack reached over and gripped Amy's shoulder, supportively. "You just stall her," he said. "We'll come get you out. Okay."

Amy nodded, trusting. "Okay," she replied with a small smile. Jack smiled back, hoping he could make good on his promise.

*

"How much longer," Sam asked.

"Don't make me turn this teltac around and go home," Jacob threatened, but his tone was sympathetic.

"Twenty-one hours," Anat told her. "Or there about. Not much less than when you last asked."

"I'm sorry. I'm just..."

"I know," Anat assured her. "But we can't go any faster, not even in the Hope."

"A lot can happen in twenty-one hours," Sam replied, morosely.

"That's the ticket; think positive," Jacob encouraged. Sam frowned. "Come on, Sam. How many times have SG-1 been captured? How many times have you been given up for dead by everyone?"

"A bunch," Sam admitted. "But sometimes they've been right, and I can't shake the fear that this time could be for good. Besides...usually I'm there with them. I just hate not knowing."

Jacob nodded, sympathetically. "I know, Sam. You just have to trust that they can take care of themselves for a few days."

"Maybe you should try and rest," Anat suggested. "I know it probably feels like you couldn't sleep, but it will make the journey go much faster."

"What if we're too late?" Sam asked.

"We're not," Anat insisted. "They're okay, and we'll get there in the nick of time to save them. You'll see." Anat's words were almost a plea, her voice filled with desperate hope, and Sam felt it would be wrong to disillusion her with further doubts.

"You're right," she said. "Of course they'll be fine." The air in the cockpit hung heavy with the comforting half-lies. "I'm going to get some sleep."

*

"You ready?" Jack asked, as the door opened.

"I'd better be," Amy replied, bravely. "Wish me luck?"

Jack clasped Amy's hand and threw his other arm around her shoulders. "Just stay cool," he told her. "You'll be fine."

"Good luck," Daniel said, giving her a comforting hug. Amy squeezed her arms tightly around his torso, and Daniel could feel the fear and tension that she was managing not to show. "We'll be there," he whispered, as the Jaffa entered the cell.

"You," the leader said, gesturing at Amy. "Come with us." Amy followed them, and Teal'c followed Amy. "Not you," the Jaffa said.

"I am Lieutenant Kawalsky's armour bearer and second. By tradition I must accompany her to the field of combat." The leader looked uncertain, but his attempt to stare down Teal'c was doomed from the start, and he backed down.

"Alright. But you two will go with these Jaffa to the viewing gallery."

"Okay ," Jack acceded, as four more guards surrounded he and Daniel.

"Take care of yourselves," Amy enjoined them.

"You too," Daniel replied.

"So, how do you fancy our chances?" Jack asked Daniel in a whisper.

"To be honest, I think we're all going to die horribly," Daniel replied. "But I've thought that so many times I'm starting not to believe it. Although," he added, after a moment's thought. "I've been right about it before."

"Speak for yourself. You're the one with the death habit."

"But I've been cold turkey for months now."

"Silence!" One of the Jaffa barked.

"Wow," Jack muttered. "Cranky. If I do end up as Astarte's consort, I think I'm going to send all the staff out for people skills training."

"So, how do you fancy our chances?" Amy asked Teal'c.

"We have been in less promising situations," Teal'c hedged.

"Such as?"

"Being stranded in open space," Teal'c offered. "Three times now; once without a ship."

"Your lives must just be the funnest," Amy commented. "I guess it's true that SG-1 really do do six impossible things before breakfast." Teal'c raised an eyebrow, questioningly. "It's from a book," Amy said. "Alice in Wonderland."

"I am familiar with the quotation," Teal'c assured her. "But I had never heard it applied to SG-1 before."

Amy shrugged. "It's what they say," she assured him.

"Also, I believe that version of the quotation comes from The Hitch-Hiker's Guide to the Galaxy, and not Through the Looking Glass."

"Quite the culture vulture, aren't you?"

"So I have been told," Teal'c replied.

"Tell me straight," Amy said. "Am I going to die?"

"We will do all in our power to prevent it, Lieutenant Kawalsky."

"Weirdly enough, I find that more comforting than a 'no'."

The lead Jaffa opened a door, and gestured for Jack and Daniel to enter.

"You will watch from here, and witness Circe's triumph."

"Care to make a small wager on that?" Jack asked.

"Wager?"

"Yeah. If Lieutenant Kawalsky kicks Circe's tail, you let us have the guns and we walk out of here. If Circe wins...I submit to all of her demands."

The Jaffa smirked, confidently. "Agreed," he said.

The door led to a viewing gallery, with a narrow window, high above the floor of a wide, open courtyard, flanked by columned cloisters. As they looked out, Jack and Daniel saw about two dozen Jaffa and maybe twice as many of Astarte's servants gathered behind a rope barrier that framed an oval space in the centre of the room.

"Are you crazy?" Daniel asked in a whisper. "What happens if Astarte wins?"

"Relax, Danny. We're not letting it get that far, and besides; you really think they'd hand over their weapons if our girl wins?" Daniel shook his head. "Right; so where's the harming in giving him one more reason to watch closely." He gestured with his head towards the lead Jaffa, who stood at the window, gazing intently onto the arena. There were still two Jaffa at the door, and two outside it, but this one at least was paying them no attention at all.

In the courtyard below, Amy and Teal'c stood at one end of the arena created by the rope barrier, facing a large archway. Jack leaned forward, gripping the windowsill, his knuckles white with tension.

"She'll be okay," Daniel assured him. "We'll get her home."

"You know what amazes me?" Jack asked.

"What?"

"That I've always managed to bring you three home. I mean, God; the number of times we've almost given you up for dead, Danny." A little hesitantly, Daniel brought up a hand and gave Jack's shoulder a reassuring squeeze. It looked a little odd, with Daniel being noticeably smaller than Jack.

In the arena, Teal'c looked up, first away from them, and then towards them. Jack raised a hand, and the Jaffa nodded in response. As he looked back up, a movement caught his eye.

"Are those the Magistrates?" Jack asked, pointing across to a gallery opposite, where a group of robed men were taking seats.

"That's them," Daniel confirmed. "And the Heptarch. Looks like the missus decided to skip though." Two of the Magistrates - Archon Palmys, and a thin man with a narrow face - looked as though they would rather have been elsewhere as well.

Somewhere below the gallery, trumpets blared an atonal fanfare.

"My God!" Jack cried. "What is that?"

"The Hellenic Greeks had a very different concept of music to ours," Daniel told him. "To them...N Synch would be incomprehensible noise." Jack gave Daniel a look of false shock. "Okay. Bad example," Daniel admitted. "But I listen to more Hellenic fanfares than pop music."

"Wise choice," Jack agreed, sagely.

Through the archway opposite Teal'c and Amy, Astarte entered, clad in duelling robes identical to those she had supplied for Amy. On her head, she wore a great mask, bearing the likeness of her face in jet black metal, and on her right hand, a Goa'uld ribbon device. At her shoulder walked her First Prime, dressed in armour similar to that of the Spartii Hoplites.

"My people," Astarte spoke, the mask amplifying her voice to fill the huge chamber without being raised. "Strangers have come to challenge me; to challenge my right and ability to protect you from the Titans."

"Titans?" Jack asked Daniel.

"Greek proto-Gods," Daniel replies. "They ruled the Earth before a revolt of the younger gods..." Jack's eyes began to glaze over. "Probably Cronus and his servants," Daniel finished, briefly.

"I will answer this challenge by showing these strangers that I am a match for them, and not afraid to stand up in person to defend my adopted world and people." She reached up, and pressed the stud that retracted her mask, and Rehetep lifted the heavy collar from her shoulders, leaving only the lighter armour such as Amy wore. Then a servant scuttled up with a cushion, and she laid on it her hand device. She stepped forward, proud and fearless, and Jack felt his heart stumble and waver at the sight of her.

Then - at a prompting from Teal'c - Amy walked out into the arena, frightened but self-possessed, and reality flooded back in, leaving Jack revolted at his own weakness.

"Just don't do anything stupid," he murmured, willing Amy to hear him.

"Traditionally we would battle in masks," Astarte told Amy, companionably. "But as you are unfamiliar with the weight and restrictions of such a garment, we shall dispense with it."

"Good of you," Amy muttered. Astarte just smiled, and clapped her hands. From behind each of them, a servant appeared, carrying a small, sickle-shaped sword - a khopesh, Amy recalled from somewhere in her training - on a cushion.

Astarte lifted her blade, and gave a few swings to gauge the balance, and Amy did the same. The weapon was about two feet long, not including the hilt, but the deep curve meant that it was a little more than eighteen inches from the crossguard to the blade-tip in a straight line. The blade was narrow and light, and the balance was good. It was not quite like the knives she had trained with in the Air Force, but she felt certain she could adapt quickly; if she got the chance.

Astarte raised her khopesh in salute, and Amy returned the gesture.

"So when do we start?" Amy asked, warily.

"Now," Astarte replied, pleasantly, and she stepped forward, bringing her blade across in a wide arc at Amy's face.

Amy held up well in the first few passes, Teal'c noted, despite the unfamiliarity of the weapons. She was somewhat off balance, and clearly at a disadvantage, but she had quickly fallen into a defensive stance while she felt out Astarte's style and rallied her strength for a counter attack. That was as much as Teal'c had seen however, as he turned his attention to the watching Jaffa. As Daniel Jackson had predicted, their attention was fixed on the battle. Young and inexperienced, they allowed their fear for their mistress' safety to become the very thing that endangered her.

Moving casually, Teal'c took a step backwards. Then he took another. There was no response from the guards who were supposed to be watching him. Another step and he was out of their line of sight. Still moving slowly and easily, he turned and slipped away through the servants, towards a side door. He had been on Ha'tak vessels before, and one such as this - constructed and furnished as a mobile palace more than a dedicated warship - would have a very standardised layout. Perhaps under Astarte that would not be the case, but Helios would not have had the imagination to order his ship constructed along different lines.

That being the case, the side door should take him straight up to the viewing gallery.

"She's good," Jack commented.

"Which one?" Daniel asked, trying without much success to follow the fierce exchange of blows in the courtyard below them. Both men were tense now; they had seen Teal'c slip away from his place, and were keen to ensure the Jaffa beside them did not notice.

"Amy," Jack replied. "I mean, Astarte as well, but I knew that."

"She is quite something," Daniel agreed. "Amy that is."

"Youngest child and only daughter in a family of seven. Whole family Air Force. She was always tough," Jack agreed.

"You sound pretty proud of her...Uncle Jack."

Jack smiled. "God that takes me back. I was more a seventh brother to her than an uncle back..."

Jack broke off, as sounds of fighting came from outside the door. The Jaffa at the window turned, slowly. The sound of a body striking the ground was followed by silence, and he gestured for the two guards at the door to ready their weapons.

Quick as a flash, Jack stepped sideways and drove his elbow into the Jaffa's gut. The warrior folded with a grunt, and his two companions began to turn. At the same moment, the door burst open, and Teal'c stepped through. With a hunting goad in each hand, he fired simultaneously into the two guards, then swung the goad in his right hand to strike one of the Jaffa on the jaw. Daniel threw himself forward, driving the other shocked guard headfirst, hard into the wall. He dropped alongside the other, as Jack finished off the leader with a chop to the back of the neck.

"Impressive as always," Jack commented, looking through the door to the prone forms of the other two Jaffa.

"They were ill-trained and unprepared," Teal'c replied. He tossed a hunting goad to each of his companions, and Jack kicked the leader's staff weapon into the Jaffa's hands.

"Here's hoping they're all like that," Daniel replied, checking over the hunting goad. With a sharp hiss, a blast of energy slapped into the wall by Jack's head. "Right. That's how it fires," Daniel mused.

"Glad you worked that out," Jack said, acidly. Daniel gave a sheepish grin. "Let's move."

The three of them made their way, quickly back to the arena courtyard. On Earth, such a spectacle would be accompanied by the bloodthirsty cries of the audience, but this crowd were silent, watching in mute awe, so that the only sound which reached their ears was the clashing of blade against blade.

When they were ten feet from the door into the courtyard, even that sound ceased. The three men shared a look, and ran the remaining distance to the door. As the emerged, the crowd began to stir, and gave forth a slow chant:

"Circe! Circe!"

Pressing forward, SG-1 manoeuvred so that they could see the arena. Amy and Astarte stood very still, Amy's blade held by her side. For a moment, neither moved, but then Amy fell heavily to her knees, and Astarte raised her hands in triumph.

"No," Daniel whispered, trying to deny the obvious, but then the young lieutenant's body toppled sideways and back, and they could see Astarte's sickle-shaped sword, lodged in her trunk, just below the ribs.

"No!" Jack echoed, louder than he had intended. Astarte's head snapped up, and the chant stumbled and fell silent as all eyes turned to the three escapees.

"Jaffa; kree!" Astarte ordered. Behind her, Rehetep had already raised a zat'nik'tel. Jack knew that he should react; had to react. In his mind, he raised the goad and fired, but his body was sluggish with shock and horror, and before he even began the movement, the zat blast had struck him in the chest, sending him stumbling to the floor.

As Jack fell, two pulses from the hunting goads struck him, making his body jerk and convulse, and four or five slapped into Daniel, felling him painfully to crash down beside his friend. Teal'c, the most experienced of the three, had managed to avoid the worst of the shock which had paralysed his friends for a few critical seconds, and was already in motion when a goad pulse hit him. Shrugging off the pain, he kept moving, doing the only thing he could do.

He ran.

In the hall, Astarte ordered Rehetep and a handful of Jaffa in pursuit of Teal'c, while Jack and Daniel lay still.

To be continued...