Those that Forget
BY
Denise


Galena ran.

Rantoul's hand held hers, crushing her fingers in his iron grip. He pulled her behind him, his long legs maintaining a stride that she couldn’t hope to match. Her heart pounded in her chest and her breath rasped in her throat. The rough cobblestones of the street tore at her fine slippers, ripping their meager protection from her feet, and still she ran.

Her heels slammed on the rounded stones, the impact making her bones shudder. She could smell the smoke as she gasped for breath. Her blood roared in her ears and she could still hear the screams.

Rantoul's hand tightened and he pulled her arm painfully, jerking her into a narrow alleyway. Galena's bare feet splashed and slipped through something horribly cold and nasty and Rantoul drew her towards him, shielding her with his body.

She clung to his heaving chest, her face buried into his neck as she heard the mob run past. Flickering torchlight paraded past their hideout and Galena felt Rantoul's arms tighten more, almost crushing her in his attempt to protect her. She could feel his heart
thumping in his chest and his shirt was clammy and wet with sweat.

They would see them. She knew that they would see them. And then they would come, screaming and fighting. They would tear her from Rantoul's arms, drag her across the square. Maybe they would hang her like they did Athon. She saw her friend, dangling from the archway to the temple, his head twisted unnaturally to the side, his feet limply hanging under the edges of his torn silk robe, his hands bound helplessly behind his back.

Or maybe they would burn her like they did Rahon. He'd screamed, begging for mercy as flames licked up his legs. She could still see him, see the terror and pain as it crossed his face. He was just a scribe, a kind and gentle scribe who dedicated his life to memorializing his God's words and rulings. He'd never hurt them, never hurt anyone. And for that, they had murdered him.

Slowly, Rantoul's arms loosened and Galena looked up, raising her head from his sweat soaked chest. "They are gone," he whispered. "Come," he urged.

Again he grasped her hand, pulling her after him as he made his way down the narrow alleyway. With her mind unable to process the events of the night, she meekly followed, letting him lead her from alley to alley, always careful to keep in the shadows.

Around them, she heard more screams, sometimes punctuated by explosions. It was chaos. A chaos that she couldn’t even comprehend. A chaos that she'd never dreamed would come to pass.

Slaves ran in the streets, rioting and pillaging as they went. They burned and destroyed, murdering and looting with impunity. They were wild, undisciplined and untamed.

This was why they'd needed a leader, why they'd needed their god. Because without their god they were nothing but children, reveling in their freedom and not realizing that without their god to protect them, that freedom would soon be as bitter as ashes upon their tongues.

They reached the end of an alley and Rantoul paused, sticking his head out to look from side to side. Galena cowered behind him, her fingers digging into his shoulder. She tried to pull him back into the shadows, he couldn't let them see him.

"It is safe, hurry." He left the sanctuary of the alley, pulling her behind him.

Unable to do anything else, she followed, biting her lip at the pain from her feet. They were sore and bruised. She was unused to this. She rarely left the temple and when she did, she was borne in a litter, a method of transportation that befitted her position as her Lord's Lotar.

Rantoul pulled her across the square and stopped before a plain looking home. He released her hand and applied himself to the wooden plank door, making short work of forcing his way through it.

Galena followed him in and stood to one side as he propped the broken door in its frame, obviously hoping to mask his break in. "We cannot hide here. The owners will return," she said.

"We are not hiding." Rantoul smiled at her. "Not here anyway."

"We must find somewhere safe to hide until our Lord returns," Galena said. "He will deal with these rebels and then things can return to the way they are supposed to be."

Rantoul shook his head, his dark hair hanging loosely around his face. Galena could barely make out his features in the dim light of the home. It was appointed simply, as was what Galena would expect in a slave's home. The furnishings were rough-hewn wood, plain but sturdy. A few cushions dotted the floors, serving as sleeping pallets and clothing hung on pegs stuck into the earthen brick wall. There was a hearth in the corner and the fire burned fitfully; obviously the owners had not had time to properly bank it before they fled.

Rantoul stalked over to the wall and pulled clothing from it. "Change your clothes," he ordered.

"What?" Galena held them in her hands. These were not clothing fit even for a temple slave. They were rough fibers, finely woven but still of such an inferior quality that she would not even use them for a cleaning cloth.


"Change your clothing," he repeated, pulling another set of clothing off another peg and holding it up, testing if it would fit.

He began to strip, efficiently peeling off his heavy clothes. Her brother did not serve their Lord in the temple like she did, rather he worked in the mines. He was a leader among the workers and well known for his ability to meet and even exceed his Lord's requirements.
"Rantoul, I do not see—"

"Galena." Rantoul stepped forward and grabbed her arms, holding her so that he could look her in the eyes. "Our Lord is gone. He may return," he said quickly, stifling her protests. "However, if we do not hide ourselves, he shall return to find nothing but rebelling children." He held up the shirt. "We can take advantage of the chaos. We can alter our appearance, pretend to be among the rebels."

"Our loyalty should be to our Lord, not ourselves."

"If we do not safeguard our lives, our Lord will have nothing to return to," he countered. He took her hand and dragged her towards the broken door, maneuvering so that they could see out the small crack left by him propping the door against its frame. "They will kill you. They do not care if you ever hurt them, they will kill you simply because of who you are." He shook her harshly. "Do you understand, Galena? The only way we can survive is to deny who we are."

"Our Lord will punish us for such a thing," she said. "He chose us to serve him and we should be proud of that fact."

"Our Lord is gone!" he shouted. "He has left and we must survive. They will kill us if they discover that we served our Lord Horus. The only way we can truly serve our Lord is to survive so that we can be ready to resume our positions when he returns."

"Survive," she whispered, embracing the idea for the first time. She remembered Athon and Rahon. Remembered that they had died with their Lord's name on their lips, loyal even to death. They would have gone to Kheb, their loyalty would have insured them a place among the loyalist of the loyal.

But they had died. And they had died such horrible, painful deaths. A fate that she lacked the courage to face.

"We survive," he repeated. "We shall live among them. We shall become them. And we shall keep our Lord's memory alive. That is how we shall serve our Lord."

Emboldened by his words, Galena nodded. Rantoul released her arms and she slowly made her way across the room. She picked up the dress she'd dropped and held it before her. It was still ugly, but it was practical. Far more practical than the thin silks she was permitted to wear. Silks that gave her little protection from the chill of the night. The person had shoes too. Heavy, sturdy shoes that would protect her feet from the ground, and even more importantly, keep them from contact with whatever vile substances were in the gutters.

Rantoul slipped the shirt over his head, disguising the muscles developed from years of labor in the mines. Galena reached for her sash, a thought stilling her movement. "Rantoul?" she asked. "What if our Lord never returns?"


/////


The vehicle bounced and rattled and Colonel William Ronson clenched his teeth, smothering a grunt as he struggled to maintain his equilibrium. He made a mental note to talk to Major Gant when he returned to Prometheus, have her check out the details of the whole 'don't share our technology with more primitive races' rule. Surely shock absorbers weren't included in the list of banned articles.

He looked out the windows, squinting against the brightness. Their vehicle bounced and bumped its way along a barely perceptible road cut through the middle of a barren wasteland. As far as he could see, there was nothing but sand, rocks and an occasional scrubby tree. The ventilation system of the vehicle was primitive at best, a fine layer of dust was in the air.

"I apologize for the rough ride," his companion said. "Even with weekly trips to and from the Stargate this landscape is simply too rugged for a smooth trip."

"That is quite all right, Chairman," Ronson said, pasting a smile on his face. "You said that people were coming out here to live?" he asked, turning to look at Chairman Ashwan who sat in the back seat of the vehicle with him. Two officers were in the front seat, serving the dual role of bodyguards and driver.

"Yes," Ashwan answered. "I find it absolutely incredible that anyone would prefer to live out here." He gestured, waving his hand out the window.

"How can they survive?" Ronson asked.

"I do not know," Ashwan answered. "I would presume that they have either found a water source or they have someone bringing them supplies."

"That's pretty extreme," Ronson said. "Especially when your cities aren't all that crowded."

"They're zealots," the driver said, glancing over his shoulder. His name was Marcin Reina and during the past three months that Colonel Ronson had been stranded on Tagrea waiting to repair the Prometheus, Reina had accompanied him and Ashwan on several tours of the area.

"Mister Reina—" Ashwan started, intent on chastising the man.

"Chairman, with all due respect, they are zealots," he insisted.

"They're Followers of Horus," the bodyguard said, his tone a bit calmer.

"Oh," Ronson said, nodding. It all made sense now. "Has the religious sect really grown that much?" he asked. When the Prometheus had first landed on Tagrea the religious group numbered a bare handful of people, most of them keeping their beliefs quiet and hidden behind a veil of secrecy.

Ashwan nodded. "Yes. There is nothing like proof to increase a person's belief," he said wryly.

"Proof we provided," Ronson said.

Ashwan shrugged. "It was likely inevitable. The simple fact that the group has survived for this long is evidence enough that it will not die easily."

The vehicle bounced to a halt and Reina turned around. "We're here, sir," he said. They climbed out of the vehicle and Ronson paused, the heat catching him off guard after the cooled aired of the vehicle. He took a couple of steps, stretching his muscles as the other men did the same thing. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pair of sunglasses, sliding them onto his face.

This was one of many such field trips that Ashwan had taken Ronson on, citing both an opportunity to exchange ideas and opinions and simply a chance to get to know each other as reasons for their weekly expeditions. At first, Ronson had balked at the invitations. There was too much work to be done on his ship to feel comfortable taking time off. In many ways, he felt like he was abandoning his crew, leaving them to work while he played. But, after a while, he realized that it was good for him to get out. Of course, the fact that Major Gant had threatened to have him locked in the brig had nothing to do with his consenting to the weekly trips.

"What have we come out here to see?" he asked, turning to face Ashwan. The man was also wearing a pair of sunglasses. Ronson had given them to him a few weeks ago at the suggestion of Major Gant. Ronson ignored the fact that they were the modern day equivalent of glass beads.

"As you know, Colonel, they've been doing a lot of exploring since your people found the Stargate," Ashwan said, moving to stand at Ronson's side.

"You've said that," Ronson agreed. If he looked, he could barely see the top of the gate off in the distance and knew that they were maybe a mile or so from it.

"We found something rather interesting," Ashwan said. "We were hoping that you could give us some insight into what it is."

Ronson shrugged. "I can try, although we might have to send it back to Earth," he warned. "Chairman, you know that while I am the commander of Prometheus, there is a lot of the universe that I haven't explored."

"I will be very surprised if you do not know of this," Ashwan said, a mysterious look on his face. He led them towards a large outcropping and Ronson followed, not surprised to see the two bodyguards staying close. Some of the tensions between his and Kalfas' men may have eased but it was still there, simmering beneath the surface.

The political status of this planet was distinctly unstable at the moment and that instability was a threat to his crew. Because of that, Ronson had ordered Gant to monitor the planet's communications systems. So he knew that there had been random acts of violence here and there.

The only thing that put his mind at ease was that Ashwan didn't deny the reports. The Chairman wasn't too fond of knowing that Ronson could basically spy on his planet, but once Gant explained to the chairman that anyone could listen in, and even managed to find one of Earth's old radio broadcasts, the man calmed down.

They had, however, reached the mutual agreement that the less said the better. Which is why no one outside of Chairman Ashwan was aware that the Prometheus was listening in.
Ashwan led them to the edge of a small ravine, a feature Ronson didn't remember from his flyover a few months ago. Then again, he'd been preparing his ship and crew for a battle, he hadn't exactly had time to sightsee.

"As you can imagine, there has been a renewed interest in this area," Ashwan said, descending into the ravine. Ronson followed silently amazed that the man could move so nimbly encumbered with his normal attire of long pants and long vest.

Of course, after watching SG-1 strap on weapon after weapon a couple of months ago, he couldn't see how they could move either.

"Sightseeing problems?" he asked, grabbing a small outcropping to steady himself.

Ashwan looked at him and frowned, cocking his head slightly to one side. "I believe so," he said. "Although I am not totally familiar with the term."

He continued on and Ronson could see that the appearance of the ravine was deceptive. On the surface it looked rather small and shallow, yet if you turned the right way, there was a wide tunnel hidden just beneath the surface.

Ronson looked up and saw daylight. Perhaps not a tunnel per se but a wide ravine that was so narrow at the top that it nearly fit the definition of a tunnel.

"Two such – sightseers – found this crevasse last week. Fortunately, we were the first people they reported it to." Ashwan paused, turning back to look at Ronson. "They have since been persuaded to keep quiet."

"Persuaded?" Ronson raised his eyebrows, the man's choice of words bringing up some rather unpleasant images.

"Monetary compensation, Colonel," he said. "A quite handsome amount I might add."
The tunnel turned and narrowed, the daylight fading as they walked.

"Sir." Reina held out a light source and Ashwan took it, holding it high. He led them around another corner and stopped, holding out an arm to keep Ronson from stepping forward.

Ashwan held the light high and Ronson stared, not believing what he was seeing. "Oh my god," he breathed.

"I had that same response when I first saw it," Ashwan said, smiling slightly. "I presume that you do know what this is." Even in the dim torchlight, a shiny gold and black surface glittered under a thick layer of dust. Ronson craned his neck, looking down, down and down into the dark depths of the planet.

Ronson nodded, tearing his wide eyes from the sight before them. "I've never actually seen one before, but yes, I do know what it is." He turned to face Ashwan. "Chairman, that is a Hatak class warship. And, in the interests of friendship, I can tell you that Earth would be very interested in gaining access to it."


/////


"You know, if Hammond is going to pull me off my vacation, the least he can do is start the briefing on time," Jack groused, shooting a glance at the closed door. Through the window he could see that the general was on the phone. And it wasn't a pleasant call, not if the scowl on the man's face was any indication.

Getting no response, Jack turned his attention back to his team. Teal'c was seated across from him, the man's massive arms resting casually on the table. Jonas sat beside him, the man's recently shorn head covered by a regulation cap. All in all, he looked remarkably healthy for a man who'd had his head carved open a few weeks ago.

Carter, who sat next to Jack, remained silent--although her expression spoke volumes. "Let me guess, you were playing in your lab when he called," Jack said. His second was famous – or maybe infamous – for working long, moderately insane hours. One of these days she was going to burn out and Jack sincerely hoped that he wasn't going to be around to see it.

"Actually sir, I wasn't," she said. She looked over at Jonas and sighed softly. "We were about eighty or ninety miles down I-25."

"We?" Jack asked, not sure what shocked him more. That she'd left the base or that she hadn't been alone.

"Jonas had never seen New Mexico," she said, shrugging slightly.

Jack blinked slowly, glancing between the pair. "He got to ride your bike?" he asked. The Major's bike was sacrosanct, the last time she'd had it in the facility she hadn't even allowed Jack to touch it. In fact, she'd roped Teal'c into guarding the bike…with his staff weapon.

"We took the car," Carter answered.

"We were going to go down to this one national park," Jonas said. "Sam even got us a cabin and there were some abandoned Indian cave dwellings," Jonas enthused.

"Yeah, wouldn't want to miss that," Jack drawled, oddly fascinated that Jonas would find dried up rocks and ruins so interesting.

"Have you not expressed concern that Major Carter should leave the facility more often?" Teal'c asked, nonplussed by the glare Jack shot his way. For as reticent as he normally was, Teal'c had a bad habit of shooting his mouth off.

"Yeah, but three hours on the road to see rocks?" Jack asked.

"It's what Jonas wanted to see," Carter said evenly, looking Jack in the eyes. He got her silent message and felt his face color as the implications sank in.

Jonas had nearly died a few weeks ago when a fast growing tumor threatened his life. According to Doctor Frasier he was nearly fit for duty. And Jack himself knew just how edgy and depressed a person could get as they convalesced. For many people, nothing cured that edginess faster than a trip. It was something Jack had forgotten about until now. He felt a tiny twinge of guilt. He was the team leader and he should have thought to check in on Jonas and maybe do something to help him with his recuperation.

"How far'd you make it?" he asked, quashing that niggling feeling of guilt. What was done was done and he knew better than to worry about what might have beens. He'd just make it up to them. Maybe rent a movie and invite them over.

"Trinidad," Carter answered. "We were just finishing lunch when the general called.

"That's what you get for taking your cell phone," Jack said.

Carter glared at him, her retort dying before it left her lips as Hammond's door opened. She shot to her feet, the rest of SG-1 following suit.

"As you were," Hammond said, waving his hand as he took his seat at the head of the table. "Yesterday I received a communiqué from Colonel Ronson," he began.

"They're still on Tagrea aren't they?" Jonas asked.

"He hasn't gotten that bird in the air yet?" Jack groused.

"They're still waiting for the replacement hyper drive, sir," Carter said.

"It's been three months."

"It took us two years to build the first one. And it would have taken longer had we not,,,appropriated, the ship we found in Steveston, Oregon."

"Two years?" Jack raised his eyebrows. All of a sudden, he was incredibly grateful that Jonas and Teal'c had found the gate on Tagrea. Marooned for two years? Oy—

"Now that we know how to do it, manufacturing the replacement will take significantly less time," she continued. "But it's still not something we can pick up at the local auto parts store…sir."

"Colonel Ronson expects to have the Prometheus space-worthy within the month," Hammond interrupted.

"The crew's going to be glad to get home," Jonas said.

"Some of them already are," Hammond said.

"Once Colonel Ronson was comfortable with the political situation, he started rotating his crew back to Earth," Carter said.

"He's been maintaining a skeleton maintenance staff," Hammond said. "Once the replacement hyper drive is finished the full crew will return and they'll bring Prometheus home."

"Ronson's gotta hate that," Jack quipped, leaning back in the chair. Hammond raised his eyebrows. "It's no fun to run twenty drills a day if it's the same handful of crew," Jack explained.

In one way, he couldn't blame the man. Running drills was the best way to train. Anyone could read a book and quote facts. What counted was a person's ability to do what they'd read. However, there was such a thing as overkill. Have too many drills and you run the risk of the crew burning out. Not to mention the effects of too much stress and too little sleep.

"Nevertheless," Hammond continued. "The Colonel has been taking some field trips, courtesy of Chairman Ashwan. He's been trying to build some bridges and learn a bit about Tagrea's culture. Yesterday, Chairman Ashwan took him out into the desert, not far from where the Stargate is. He found this." Hammond picked up a remote off the table and pointed it at the screen. The flat surface flickered into life and Jack watched as a picture came into focus.

"Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?" he asked, as Carter gasped softly.

"That is a Hatak class ship," Hammond said. "And it appears intact."

"I thought you scanned that planet?" Jack asked, turning to face Carter.

"I was looking for a Stargate, not a space ship, sir," she replied, bristling slightly.

"It looks buried," Jonas said, getting up and walking over to the screen.

"It is," Hammond confirmed, bringing up a different picture. This one showed the Hatak clearly surrounded by stone.

"How did they dig a hole that deep?" Carter asked.

"A Hatak ship's weapons are more than capable of such a feat," Teal'c said.

"They buried everything else goa'uld on that planet, why not a ship?" Jack said, shrugging.

"Because it'd be like burying an air craft carrier," Carter said.

"Actually, it makes perfect sense," Jonas said.

"How?"

"From what I could gather, there was a rebellion on Tagrea. The slaves rose up against the masters."

"It is likely that Tarek Solamun and the other Followers of Horus are the descendants of the goa'uld sympathizers," Teal'c said.

"And those sympathizers were probably on the run and hunted by the slaves," Jonas said, moving back to retake his seat.

"They're also probably the only ones that knew how to run the technology left behind when Heru'ur left," Carter said. "Presuming that's what he did." She turned to glance around the table. "Unless we have two goa'uld taking on the persona of Heru'ur, he had to have survived the rebellion."

Jonas nodded. "If the slaves had possession of a ship that they couldn't control, they'd bury it just like they did all the other goa'uld stuff."

"Little flaw in your plan," Jack said. "If all the sympathizers were hiding, then how'd they use the ship's weapons to dig the hole?" He had the satisfaction of watching Jonas, Carter and Teal'c all exchange glances, clearly caught off guard.

"It is very likely that not all of the sympathizers escaped. The slaves could have used a hostage to use the weapons," Teal'c said.

"Why didn't they leave?"

"Tagrea was their home. If they took the ship off the planet, then they'd be easy pickings for any other goa'uld in the area. Or maybe it was too damaged to fly," Carter said. "Sir, even with C4, we'd have a hard time totally destroying a Hatak ship. Remember the one in the Arctic? It survived a planetary re-entry mostly intact."

"Why not use the self-destruct?"

"It is possible that the Followers of Heru'ur did not want to do that. Their desire would be to preserve the ship for Heru'ur's eventual return," Teal'c said.

"I'm presuming that's what we want to do too," Jack said. "The preserving part." He vividly remembered what had happened to their last Hatak ship, how they'd come so close to having it but then lost it when it crashed into the Arctic Ocean. He still couldn't stand to watch Titanic.

"That would be our preference," Hammond said.

"I don't understand," Jonas said. "That ship has to be at least three hundred years old. The information in its data banks is hopelessly out of date."

"It's not necessarily the information, Jonas. It's the technology," Carter said. He frowned at her, openly puzzled. "Sir, we know that the goa'uld develop very little of the technology they use. They cannibalize other peoples' stuff. Because of this, I doubt there have been any major advances in their technology in centuries."

"You believe that the technologies on that ship would be comparable to what the goa'uld currently use?" Teal'c said.

"Without seeing it, I can't be sure," she qualified. "But it's a possibility."

Hammond nodded. "That was Colonel Ronson's assessment as well. I want you to go to Tagrea and investigate this ship. If it's worthwhile, then we open negotiations with the Tagrean government to obtain access to it."

"Why can't Ronson do it?" Jack asked. "He's already there and has the relationship built."

"Because Colonel Ronson wouldn't know a working Hatak ship from a non-functional one," Hammond said, his bluntness catching Jack off guard. "Like it or not, your team happens to be our best experts on goa'uld technology and most able to determine if the ship is salvageable or not."

Jack sighed, acknowledging the man's words. Sometimes it sucked to be the best. "Then with your permission, sir, Carter, Teal'c and I will leave in a couple of hours," he agreed.

An awkward silence settled over the table. "What about me?" Jonas asked, looking distinctly hurt.

"Frasier hasn't cleared you for active duty yet," Jack replied. "And going through the gate is considered active duty."

"But research isn't and that's all we'll be doing," Jonas argued.

"Jonas—"

"Sir, he did develop a bit of a relationship with Mister Solamun," Carter said.

"And his assistance would be most welcome in translating any artifacts we find," Teal'c said.

Jack looked both his teammates in the eyes, both pleased and annoyed at their little rebellion. They were sticking up for Jonas the same way they would have for Daniel. In a way, it was nice. In another way, it was a bit of an issue. Yes, Jonas was recovering. And yes, it would do him good to get out. But even though Tagrea was a known planet and a relatively peaceful place, it was still off-world. And off-world held its own inherent dangers.

"It's your call, Colonel," Hammond said.

Jack was ready to say no. He'd have done the same to Daniel. Heck, had done the same to Daniel. Sometimes his curiosity overrode his common sense. Then he looked at Jonas and saw the uncertainty in the man's eyes. He wanted to go, maybe felt like he needed to go. Jack sighed again and shook his head. "Fine. You can come. But," he raised his voice a bit, looking Jonas in the eyes. "If I have to carry your ass back through the gate I'll ground you for the rest of the year," he threatened.

"You won't, Colonel, I promise," Jonas said.

"Sounds like it's settled then," Hammond said, getting to his feet. "You can leave when ready."

Jonas stepped through the Stargate and set foot onto the familiar surface of Tagrea. A wave of heat rose up from the rocky surface and he took a deep breath, stopping for a second. "Jonas?" Sam reached out and touched his arm. "You okay?"

He nodded and smiled. "I'm fine."

She nodded. "Okay. But if you need to take a break, you just say so," she said. "Don't let the Colonel spook you."

"Spook me?"

Sam smiled. "He's only grumpy because he doesn't want you to overexert yourself."

"He's not grumpy with you," Jonas said.

"There's a big difference between a burn on the arm and brain surgery," Sam said.

Jonas looked down, slightly uncomfortable with the reminder of one of his failures. He'd tried. He'd really tried. He'd done everything he could to use his unexpected gift of seeing the future to do some real good. He'd thought he was protecting Sam by telling Colonel O'Neill about his vision of her getting hurt. But, as it has turned out, by trying to protect her, he'd really put her life in danger.

"Hey." She shook his arm. "We don't have to go over the whole Heisenberg Uncertainty Principal again do we?" she asked.

Jonas sighed and shook his head. "No."

"Good." She shot a glance forward and nodded. "Cause I think if I descended into detailed technical explanations, the Colonel would shoot me. Come on," she urged. "It looks like our ride is here."

Jonas looked up and watched Ashwan walk towards him, escorted by Colonel Ronson and two other men.

"Ashwan!" Colonel O'Neill called out. He stepped forward and held out his hand in greeting. "It's good to see you," he said.

"Indeed, Colonel O'Neill. Teal'c, Major Carter, Jonas Quinn," Chairman Ashwan acknowledged, shaking O'Neill's hand.

"Colonel O'Neill," Ronson greeted, shaking Jack's hand once Ashwan released it.

"Ronson. What's with the escorts?" he asked.



Jonas looked closer and noticed that both the men were armed. They were looking around attentively, an action that Jonas recognized from his teammates. They were nervous, clearly on the lookout for some sort of threat.

"Things have changed a bit since you were last here, Colonel," Ashwan said. He motioned towards his vehicle. "If you'd like to join us, I have transportation back to the city."

"I thought the Hatak ship was somewhere near the gate," Sam said.

Jonas noticed that her hands never strayed far from her P-90. Colonel O'Neill was doing the same thing and Teal'c's hand was wrapped tightly around his staff weapon.

"It's about a klick and a half that way," Ronson said, pointing off to the left.

"Then why are we going to the city?" Jack asked. "Nothing personal, Chairman, but we're here. The ship is here. Might as well get started on checking it out."

"That's not going to be possible, Jack," Ronson said.

"Why?"

"Like the Chairman has said, things have changed." Ronson looked around. "It's a long story, and probably one better told over a cold drink and with some air conditioning."

Jack shrugged and sighed. "Okay."

Chairman Ashwan led them to two vehicles and they split up, Colonels O'Neill and Ronson got in the first vehicle with Ashwan while Jonas, Teal'c and Sam got in the second vehicle.

They started towards the city, Sam striking up a conversation with the driver while Jonas and Teal'c remained silent. This reminded him a lot of the first time he'd made this trip, he and Teal'c reluctantly escorted to the ruins, alternatingly hopeful that they'd find the Stargate and overwhelmed by the vastness of their surroundings. The Stargate always seemed to loom so large, something that was too massive to ever hide. However, when standing in the middle of a desert, the horizon stretching out for miles and miles, suddenly that massive ring seemed as tiny as the one that encircled his finger.

Jonas could see that they were following rough tracks. This was something that had changed since he left the planet. "Do people come out here often?" he asked, interrupting Sam and the driver.

"Colonel Ronson let his crew rotate back to Earth," Sam said.


"That's right," Jonas said, remembering now the times he'd seen the crews come and go
through the SGC.

"Our people have also been exploring the ruins," the driver said.

"Exploring?"

The man nodded. "Some wish to see the Ring of the Gods, to witness with their own eyes that it is indeed real. Others wish for something more," he answered.

"More?" Sam asked.

"This is part of what the Chairman wishes to discuss with you," the man answered, clearly uncomfortable with the turn the conversation had taken.

"I understand if we're putting you in an uncomfortable position," Sam said. "And I don't even know your name." She smiled at the man and Jonas looked to Teal'c, meeting the Jaffa's amused gaze. She was good at that.

"Marcin Reina," he introduced. "I am one of Chairman Ashwan's bodyguards." Reina was a short man, standing a couple of inches shorter than Sam. His hair was a sandy brown and thinning on top. His build was stocky with a bit of belly hanging over his belt. He didn't seem physically fit enough to fit Jonas' idea of a body guard.

"Chairman Ashwan did not require bodyguards when we were last on this planet," Teal'c said. The amused look was gone and replaced by one of caution and interest.

"A lot has changed," Reina said. "Major Carter, as you are aware, there are two primary groups on Tagrea. Those that believe like the Chairman, that we should explore and examine our past. See what we can learn from it and seek to prevent it from repeating itself. And there are those that believe as Mister Kalfas did, that the past was buried for a reason and that it is best if it remains buried." Reina's hesitant attitude seemed to have faded as he talked, perhaps welcoming a chance to expound to an eager audience.

"I remember," Sam said. "In fact, that's not an uncommon feeling. We've run into it on several planets."

"There is also a third group," Reina continued.

"The religious group," Jonas said. Reina glanced at him, frowning. "We met one of them when we were here last," Jonas continued. "In fact, he helped us find the Stargate."

"Ah yes, Tarek Solamun," Reina said, rolling his eyes. "He and Chairman Ashwan meet quite frequently."

"They didn't strike me as the trouble making type," Sam said.

"Many of them are not," Reina said. "However, in all groups, there are the extremists. Those who are not content to simply talk but seek to take action, usually with little regard to others."

"How bad is it?" Sam asked.

Reina shrugged. "Sometimes it is nothing more than people demonstrating in the streets. Other times, we have had violence. Explosions meant to terrorize and injure, theft of property. All three groups are seeking to attain power over the other two and our planet is becoming sharply divided."

"Finding that ship just made it worse, didn't it?" Sam asked as Reina slowed to a stop, maneuvering the vehicle to the side of the road outside the main city building.

Reina turned off the engine and twisted in his seat. "We thought that we had kept it a secret, however yesterday we learned that members of the religious sect have taken control of the ship. They pledge to destroy it before they will let anyone else take possession of it."

Jonas saw him look out the window. The two Colonels and Chairman Ashwan had already gotten out of their vehicle and were waiting for them. "I would appreciate if you did not reveal my forwardness to the chairman," Reina muttered. He hurriedly got out of the vehicle and the rest of them followed suit.

The streets were busy and people walked back and forth, some ambling slowly while others strode with a distinct purpose. It reminded Jonas of a busy afternoon on Earth, or even on Kelowna. Some carried shopping bags, others the Tagrean version of a briefcase and still others simply walked in small groups, chatting amongst themselves.

A few stared at them curiously, drawn by their strange clothes. Jonas noticed that the two bodyguards spread out, flanking the group. The watched the crowds intently, their hands lingering near their waists.

Ashwan ushered them inside and Jonas followed, Teal'c and the bodyguards trailing him. The inside of the city building was quiet and cool. The floors and walls were made of a stone that looked like marble and the ceilings were high and vaulted. Simple chandeliers hung at regular intervals, their light augmenting that which came in through the windows.

A few plants decorated the hall, which opened up to a large rotunda. Along with the tall plants and benches that dotted the corridor, Jonas could also see armed guards, their stance relaxed, but their weapons very real. He saw Colonel O'Neill look over his shoulder, meeting Major Carter's gaze and knew that he noticed it as well.

Chairman Ashwan led them through the rotunda and down another hall that led to a large conference room. "Please," he said, motioning to the chairs set around the table.

"What's with the militia?" O'Neill asked, standing by, but not taking a seat.

"Things have gotten a little tense here, Jack," Ronson said.

"Tense?"

"Please, Colonel," Ashwan said. "You are safe here."

Ronson made a point of sitting and O'Neill looked around for a second before motioning for his team to do the same. "What exactly are we safe from?"

"Since you have left, those that believe as Mister Kalfas does, ones that we call Denialists, have grown in power," Ashwan explained.

"Denialists?" O'Neill asked skeptically.

Ashwan smiled slightly. "As you can imagine, that is not what they call themselves."

"They call themselves Protectionists," Ronson said. "They believe that the only way to protect us is to insure that the past remains in the past. Buried, literally and figuratively."

O'Neill nodded. "And they call you?"

"Revolutionaries," Ashwan said. "They believe that we are endangering the planet and our people."

O'Neill nodded. "Ok, I can see where discovering a big honkin buried ship might cause a stir..."

"It's done more than that, Jack," Ronson said. "There's a third group, a religious sect. They're, well, they're part Revolutionist and part Protectionist. They don't want to deny that the ship exists, but they also don't want to share."

"Followers of Horus," Sam said.

"Yes, Major," Ashwan said. "We just discovered this morning that the religious order has taken control of the ship. They're threatening to kill anyone who approaches."

"Well, that could be a problem," O'Neill quipped.

"I thought the religious sect was small?" Sam said. "Jonas, did Tarek ever tell you anything?"

Jonas shook his head. "Only that they were few and definitely not a mainstream group," he said, not very fond of feeling like he was in the position of betraying Tarek's trust.

"They are such a small group that many in our government refused to believe in their existence," Ashwan said. "However, since you found the Stargate, there has been a resurgence in their numbers. I do not understand, however, how they could control the ship. What little I have seen of goa'uld technology is beyond our understanding."

"It is not uncommon for a goa'uld to rule on the backs of trusted slaves. These humans or Jaffa would be taught to manipulate the technology," Teal'c said.

"If there was a rebellion like we think there was, it's very possible that some of these slaves ran," Sam said. "We know that artifacts survived, knowledge could have been passed down through the generations as well. We even have religions on Earth that, we theorize, began as human worshiping a goa'uld. Over the millennia, however, the true meaning has been lost. Most people don't realize that the god their ancestors worshiped very well could have been an alien."

"Interesting," Ashwan said.

"Yeah, thrilling," O'Neill said. "Still doesn't help us with getting into that ship."

"I am afraid, Colonel, that my government does not officially recognize the religious sect," Ashwan said. "And, as such, I cannot meet with a group that does not exist."

"Then we are wasting our time continuing this discussion," Teal'c said, his words earning him a harsh glance from O'Neill.

Ashwan smiled slightly. "Teal'c, you, as Colonel Ronson and his crew, are here as guests of the Tagrean government. And, as guests, we will do nothing to prevent you from visiting any old friends you made on your first trip." Ashwan met O'Neill's eyes and looked at him pointedly, not breaking eye contact until the Colonel nodded knowingly.

"Don't ask, don't tell," he said. "You don't care where we go, as long as we don't make you care where we go?"

"Precisely."

O'Neill nodded. "How safe are my people?" he asked.

"Colonel?"

"We've...heard rumors that things are a little...unsettled," Sam said.

"Since Colonel Ronson has been monitoring our broadcasts, he can probably tell you more than I," Ashwan said.

"What doesn't make the broadcasts?" O'Neill pressed.

Ashwan sighed. "There have been acts of terrorism," he confessed. "And they have been downplayed in our broadcasts."

"Do you know which group?" O'Neill asked.

"All of them," Ashwan said.

"All?"

"We have had multiple acts of violence perpetrated by multiple groups," Ashwan said.
"Including people with whom I agree, in theory, even though I do not condone the violence."

"And?" O'Neill pressed.

"I cannot promise you that your people will be safe, Colonel. Just as I cannot promise Colonel Ronson that his ship will never be a target. I can honestly tell you that I know of no threat to the safety of any of your group. And if I hear of a threat, I will inform you as soon as possible," he promised.

"He's a man of his word, Jack," Ronson said.

O'Neill shrugged. "Sounds fair I guess."

"Is Tarek Solamun still the Professor of Mathematics at the university?" Jonas asked.

Ashwan shook his head. "I'm afraid his position was deemed not longer necessary, however I do know how to contact him. My aide can get you that information."

"Anything else we need to know?" O'Neill asked.

"The Denialists still do not know about the ship, however I doubt it will remain that way for long. I have many informants in their ranks, as they do mine. It's just a matter of time."

"You know, Chairman, maybe it's time to stop letting the situation control you and for you to take control of the situation."


/////


"Your assessment of the situation, Colonel?" Hammond asked, leaning forward to get a better view of the computer screen.

"We're probably safer here than in downtown Chulak, sir," O'Neill said, his voice rendered tinny sounding through the MALP relay. "Ashwan says there are no threats against us and Ronson vouches for him."

"I leave that up to your discretion," Hammond said. That was one of the first things he'd learned about command, when to trust the intuition of a field officer. And he trusted O'Neill implicitly.

"We have an appointment to meet Solamun tomorrow," O'Neill continued. "And Ronson is going to put us up on the Prometheus, so we have a secure position to fall back to."

"Whatever you think is best. I don't think I need to remind you that securing access to the Hatak is a priority," Hammond reminded.

"No, sir. You don't. Although, given that the nearest Stargate is forty light years away and Prometheus still needs spare parts from Earth, I'd say that preserving access to the Tagrean gate is even more important."

"I've just spoken to Doctor Larry McMurphy. We should be sending the replacement hyper drive through in a few days. You can tell Colonel Ronson that I've already started to recall his crew."

"He'll be glad to hear that." O'Neill looked down, checking his watch. "I'll check back in forty-eight hours," he said.

"Understood, Colonel. SGC out."

The screen went dark and Hammond sighed, taking a moment to arch his back. Ergonomics were not a strong suit amongst designers of the SGC.

"Sir, SG-12 is waiting upstairs for their pre-mission briefing," Walter Harriman reminded, looking up from his station.

"Thank you, sergeant," Hammond said. There was definitely no rest for the weary...or, as some would say, the wicked.


/////


"Please, come in. Come in," Tarek Solamun welcomed, stepping back from the doorway.

"It's good to see you, professor," Jonas said, pulling off his sunglasses as Teal'c followed him into the man's small house.

The escort provided by Chairman Ashwan remained outside and Teal'c closed the door both granting them privacy and shutting out the heat of the day.

"Please, call me Tarek," he invited, leading them into his living room/study. The room reminded Jonas of the library where they'd first met the man. The walls were lined with bookcases, each one filled to overflowing with bound books and scrolls. Books were piled on the floor and in the corners, only the area around the desk was clear. It smelled of dust and lamp oil.

"Thank you for seeing us," Jonas said deliberately saving the sturdiest looking chair for Teal'c.

"I have little else to fill my time," Tarek said, taking a seat.

"Chairman Ashwan reported that you are no longer employed by the university," Teal'c said.

"Yes." Tarek's face fell slightly. "It was not unexpected."

"Have things been bad?" Jonas asked.

"There has been some violence," Tarek admitted. "Many among my friends have lost their positions or even their homes."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Tarek shrugged. "Such trials are nothing new to members of my order," he replied.

"Speaking of that," Jonas said. "Have you heard about-"

"The ship that was buried in the desert," Tarek interrupted.

"Yes."

"It is indeed a miraculous find. Something that we dare not dream to be possible."

"And the people that have taken it over?"

"Followers of Horus, yes, but not friends of mine," Tarek said.

"They are threatening to kill anyone who approaches the Hatak ship," Teal'c said.

"You must understand. For generations those that believe as I do have been persecuted. We cannot speak of our beliefs to an outsider without being called a heretic. Unions have been broken, children have been disowned. In some extreme cases, Followers of Horus have been murdered for their beliefs."

"You told me that your people are peaceful," Jonas said. "Why threaten violence?"

"Jonas Quinn, for all my life, I have believed in Horus, as my father did before me. That belief led me to explore the Wastelands of Anhur where I found physical proof that my beliefs were true. Yet on the one occasion that I showed my finds to a non-believer, I was accused of fabricating them myself. I refuted that lie and offered my find up to be tested, to prove its authenticity. I was not surprised to discover that every test they performed upon it rendered the same results."

"That your artifact was a forgery," Teal'c said.

"Yes," Tarek nodded. "I accepted long ago that no one would believe me and I was content to collect what relics I could find and preserve them for future generations."

"Is that what they're doing with the ship? Preserving it?" Jonas asked.

"We finally have proof that the government cannot refute or deny," Tarek said. "And there are those among us who would willingly sacrifice their lives to preserve that truth."

"To the point of committing violence?" Teal'c asked.

"In the eyes of some, we are doing nothing but protecting the relics that may be within that ship," Tarek said.

"It is possible that those relics you wish to protect are of a danger to you."

"How do you mean?" Tarek asked.

"The goa'uld are, by nature, a violent and hateful race. Many times, in my years of servitude to a false god, I witnessed their rancor and callousness."

"We once found a Hatak ship in orbit of our planet," Jonas said. "Various systems in it had been altered to entrap anyone who dared to explore."

"You believe that there may be dangers in our Hatak ship?" Tarek asked.

"It is possible," Teal'c said.

Jonas looked at his companion and saw the collusion in the man's eyes. He knew that they could be exaggerating things a bit, that there may be no real dangers on the ship. But it was possible that there were hidden, what was the word Sam used, booby traps, on it. And it would be a shame if some of the Followers of Horus were injured or even killed during their exploration.

"Teal'c used to serve on these ships. And Major Carter is very good with goa'uld technology. If we could just take a look at the ship-"

"You wish to take it from us?" Tarek interrupted.

"I'll be honest with you, we would like to take a look at it. Its memory banks may contain vital information for us," Jonas said. "But we're not going to just take your ship," he said, desperately hoping that he was telling the truth. True, the Tau'ri would like nothing more than to have a replacement Hatak ship, but Jonas didn't think that they would steal it.

"Perhaps a barter can be arranged," Jonas suggested.

"A barter?"

"Let us look at the ship. We can help make sure that it's safe for your people. In exchange, we'd like to just look at it, maybe have access to some of its components, data in the memory banks or maybe even being able to do a detailed study of some of the ship's systems," Jonas suggested.

"I cannot guarantee that," Tarek said. "As I said, the people who have taken control of the ship are not my friends. I know of them, but I do not know them."

"But you can talk to them, see if they'll let us get into the ship?" Jonas pressed.

Tarek paused, his eyes looking out the window. Through the wavy, thick glass, Jonas could see the traffic moving up and down the narrow street, the shapes of the vehicles distorted by the glass. People walked up and down the street, braving the midday heat to complete their errands. "I can try," he finally said. "As a Follower of Horus, they may grant me audience, however I know that they will be suspicious that you will attempt to take their ship from them."

"We won't," Jonas promised.

"You speak for all your kind?" Tarek pressed.

"No," Jonas said. "But, Tarek, I know these people. They don't steal. The ship is yours. And anyway, it's buried. We'll never be able to dig it out. And, even if we do, there's a very good chance that it's not space worthy, and it won't fit through the Stargate." He smiled disarmingly. "It would be hard to steal."

Tarek smiled slightly. "I do see your point. Marshak Anon is the leader of the group who have taken custody of the ship. I shall attempt to speak to him. I do not know if he will permit you access, but I shall ask."

Major Erin Gant put the last touches on putting up her hair and fought back a grin at the sounds coming from the other side of the room. "This is ridiculous," she heard Sam Carter complain as the woman stepped out of the shared bathroom and into their communal living space.

Erin turned, taking a moment to study the other woman. "It could have been worse," Erin commiserated.

"Yeah, it could have been blue and had a veil," Carter muttered, joining Erin at the mirror. Even though Prometheus was a large ship and had plentiful crew quarters, there really wasn't all that much space at the moment. In an effort to conserve energy and simplify things, Colonel Ronson had ordered parts of the ship that were not necessary for the repair work to be shut off and set to minimal power status. Because of this, Major Carter was bunking with Erin, the two women sharing a moderately sized stateroom.

"Is that story really true?" Erin asked, stepping back so that Carter could finish.

"Depends on what version you heard," Carter said, running her fingers through her hair and moving away from the mirror. "Blue dress, yes, fight yes, marriage, no," she listed, ticking the items off on her finger.

"This outfit is slightly more to my taste," she said, smoothing the purple material down over her hips. The dress was a simple cut, a scooped neck with short sleeves and a hemline that flared a bit just above her knees. "Still, I don't think my P-90 will be a good accessory," she quipped, motioning towards her utility vest and weapons that were lying on her bunk. Sam moved the items to the side and sat down on the bunk, reaching for her boots.

"You're going to wear those?" Erin asked, raising her brow at the image of the woman in a skirt and combat boots.

Sam frowned, setting down the boots and picking up the matching purple shoes that had been sent with the dress. "The shoes don't quite fit," she said. "I guess I should consider myself lucky that Chairman Ashwan got the sizes right on everything else."

"Colonel O'Neill can probably get away with wearing his boots, presuming the Chairman sent him clothes like I've seen the rest of the Tagreans wear. But," Erin got up and took the boots from Sam's hands. "If Chairman Ashwan thinks it's best for you and O'Neill to be inconspicuous, wearing combat boots with that dress isn't the way to do it."

Sam rolled her eyes and sighed. "I was afraid you were going to say that." She slipped her feet into the shoes and stood up, taking a couple of experimental steps. "I just hope we're not going to have to walk too far." Sam looked at Erin and frowned. "I thought you said you were going to the market?" she asked.

"I am."

"Dressed like that?" Sam looked at her from head to toe. Erin was wearing her usual uniform, a blue jumpsuit and boots.

Erin shook her head. "They're used to me. And I'm just going to the market, you're going to meet with the leader of the Denialists. Little difference."

"You're not worried about the violence?" Sam asked, sitting back down on the bed. "You said that there had been increasing reports."

Erin nodded, taking a seat on the other bunk. "There has been. But, Sam, I've been here for three months. And I've been visiting the market for the past two. Frankly, I feel safer here than I do walking the streets of downtown Las Vegas."

Sam shrugged, conceding the point. "What do you think our chances are of getting access to the ship?" she asked.

Erin thought for a moment. "Honestly?" Sam nodded. "Probably not very good. Not if the religious order has moved in."

"Not even just to look at it? Sam pressed. "A copy of their database would probably suffice."

"How would you feel if I walked into Constitution Hall and asked if I could run the Declaration of Independence through the copy machine?"

"That bad?"

Erin nodded. "Oh yeah. Sam, for the religious sect, this is like finding the Ark of the Covenant or the Holy Grail. They have proof, for the first time in generations, that their god was real. They're not gonna give that up."

"And Kalfas' group?"

Erin shook her head. "I think they'd rather just blow it up," she said.

"Blow it up?" Sam asked, her eyebrows crawling up her forehead.

"If not literally, then figuratively," Erin said. "They don't want us here, they've never wanted us here. And anything that keeps us here is a bad thing to them."

"So?"

Erin shrugged. "So, it wouldn't surprise me if Kalfas tries to help you. Then again, he won't want to help you because you're meddling in things that shouldn't exist."

Sam sighed and closed her eyes. "I hate politics," she muttered. She opened her eyes and got up, plucking at her skirt. "I do not want to go into the city unarmed," she said. "But I'll be damned to figure out where I can put a weapon."

Erin got to her feet, making her way across her quarters. She rummaged in the small closet and pulled out a small bag. She tossed it to Sam. "Try this."

Sam caught it and held it up. "Where did you get-"

Erin shrugged. "That's what I do in the market, Christmas shopping." She smiled at the look on Sam's face. "I thought my sister would like that."

"A pistol in my handbag?" Sam said, skeptically holding the bag.

Erin shrugged. "Better than nothing."

Sam set down the bag and reached for her vest, ripping open a couple of the pockets to pull out a few necessary items. She shoved them into the bag and then reached for her gun belt, removing the Berretta from its holster. It joined a spare clip in the bag and then Sam held it up, eying it to see if she could fit anything else in the small black bag.

A fist pounded on the door. "Yo, Carter, you decent?" O'Neill called out, his voice muffled by the bulkhead.

"Don't forget your radio," Erin reminded as Sam got to her feet. "Meyers will be monitoring your frequency if something happens."

Sam nodded and stuck her radio into the bag, settling the strap over her shoulder before moving towards the door. It opened, revealing Colonel O'Neill. He too was wearing native clothes, a long tunic and pair of pants. And, much to Erin's amusement, his combat boots. "You ready, Major?" he asked.

Sam nodded. "Yes, sir." She turned back to Erin. "Do you need a ride?"

Erin shook her head. "I've got my own, thanks. Did you guys need anything?"

"Don't suppose they got something like beer?" O'Neill asked.

"Colonel Ronson won't allow it on the ship," Erin said.

"You don't have to bring it in. Just drop it by the front door," he said.

Erin looked to Sam who shook her head slightly. "I'll see what I can do, sir," Erin said.

"Right," he said, his tone telling her that he knew full well that she wasn't going to be bringing back any spirits. "Carter?"

"I'm ready, sir."

He clapped his hands. "Well, let's go see if we can waste a couple of hours talking to a brick wall."

They left and Erin took a moment to straighten up a bit, setting Carter's weapons just out of sight and pushing the woman's boots under her bunk. She gathered her own shopping supplies, a small bag she used for her currency and radio and a larger shopping bag.

'Requisitioning Supplies' was the unofficial title for her presumed duties. Their skeleton crew consisted of a dozen officers and technicians, all of which rotated to and from Earth if they wished. Technically, Prometheus had more than enough supplies to last them, but it hadn't taken her long to figure out that a constant diet of MRE's and reconstituted food did nothing for the morale of the stranded crew. Which was why she'd convinced the Colonel to let her visit the market and acquire some native foods to mix in with their supplies.

He hadn't been too crazy about it at first, still not quite trusting the Tagreans, but she'd finally worn him down. At first, she'd seen her shopping detail as a simple way to finally get to explore another planet, but now she thoroughly enjoyed it. She made her way outside and got into the small personal vehicle that Ashwan had sent for their convenience. It only took her a few minutes to drive into the city. Prometheus was parked on the very outskirts of the town and there was not much traffic for her to contend with.

The market was located in the old village square in the middle of the city. Because the streets surrounding the square were narrow and paved with cobblestones, she had to park her vehicle several blocks away. She got out of the vehicle and slowly walked towards the market, taking a moment soak up the atmosphere. It was still early in the day and the heat had yet to build. A gentle breeze wafted down the street, carrying with it the aromas of the various meals people were cooking.

She passed a garden and paused for a moment to admire the brilliant colors laid out amid winding paved paths. Tagrea's version of bees and butterflies buzzed and fluttered to and fro and Erin breathed deep, a smile crossing her face as she registered the sweet aroma of the flowers.

This garden was her favorite part of her trip. It was a common garden, sheltered from the street by a low wall, but open to all. More than once she had taken a break after her shopping trips, pausing to have a small snack before making her way back to Prometheus.
Maybe today she'd treat herself to one of Linus' pastries.

Checking her watch, she continued on her way, arriving at the market in just a few minutes. She made her way through the familiar stalls, smiling at the shop keepers. She hadn't been exaggerating when she'd told Sam that she didn't feel threatened here. She knew these people. Sabra the baker was a bit of a skinflint, sometimes selling yesterday's bread for today's prices. But Tarla the butcher prided himself in always delivering more than what was expected. And, more than once, he had delivered Erin's purchases directly to Prometheus, citing that five pounds of meat was just too much for her to carry.

Kesri sold jewelry that she made herself, despite the fact that her hands were often swollen and sore with arthritis. She was teaching her granddaughter, Gail to follow in her footsteps, the woman's gnarled fingers guiding the girl's short pudgy ones.

Stringed music floated over the crowd and Erin craned her neck, watching as Davic made his way across the square, led by his sister Jayna. Davic was blind, had been since birth. But he possessed an unrivaled skill with the instrument that looked like a violin.

"Erin! I was hoping that you would come today." Erin turned, smiling at Mahran, the vegetable seller. The man stood behind the large table, his thick arms spread wide. He was a large man, not one that you would think of as a gardener.

He was tall, as tall as Teal'c, and just as bulky. His arms were darkly tanned and he wore a straw hat on his bald head. Mahran had been her first friend in the market, in fact, he'd introduced her to it when he'd shown up outside the Prometheus, a bushel basket of vegetables in his arms. He'd called them a gift, a welcoming present to the 'visitors from the stars'.

"Mahran, would I come to the market and not see you?" she asked, reaching out to shake his beefy hand.

"I hear that you have visitors," he said, cutting to the chase. "Perhaps they would like to try some rajah fruit," he suggested, holding up the small round fruit. "Fresh off the tree."

"I'm sure they will," Erin agreed. "Thank you." She took the fruit from his hand and placed it gently in her bag. Rajah fruit was definitely an acquired taste. To her, it was something like a cross between a lemon and a star fruit. Tart but not pulpy.

"You will bring them to see me?" he asked. "I hear that one of them is a giant. And that one of them is a true beauty. Nothing compared to your wonderful visage, my dear," he quickly said.

Erin smiled, used to the man's flirting. "I am sure she will be happy to meet you," she said. "What else do you have for me today?" she asked, looking over his table. She wondered if she could put together the Tagrean equivalent of steak and baked potatoes. Just as long as no one asked exactly what it was a steak of...

"Kesa root? Or perhaps some mabo fruit? My daughter picked it fresh this morning, before the dew had even evaporated..."

His sales pitch trailed off and Erin looked up, frowning at the look on his face. "Mahran? What's wrong?"

His eyes grew wide and his mouth dropped open as an expression of abject terror crossed his face. Erin turned, wondering what was upsetting him so much. In an instant, she knew. And she could do nothing but watch as all hell broke loose.


/////


Sam walked beside Colonel O'Neill her attention torn between the two 'escorts' trailing them and the large building in front of them. Predictably, the Denialist headquarters was on the far side of the city, about as far away from the government building as was possible. It was in the middle of a large square ringed with heavy cement barriers that prohibited any sort of vehicle from getting within one hundred yards of the structure. Which was why she and the Colonel were walking.

Even though their P-90's were safely stowed on board the Prometheus, Sam knew that the Colonel wasn't unarmed. When he would twist just right, she could see the unmistakable bulge of his side arm tucked into the small of his back. If it wasn't for the fact that she was wearing a dress, she would have done the same thing.

"Do you think Kalfas can help us get into the ship?" Sam asked, quickening her pace to walk side by side with the Colonel.

He shrugged. "I doubt it." He glanced her way. "If he had access to it, he'd be there already."

"I don't know," Sam said. "He was pretty adamant about keeping the past buried."

"Can't bury it if you don't control it."

"True," she agreed. "So why are we going to see him?"

"Because his intelligence is probably better than Ashwan's," O'Neill replied. They arrived at the front door and stopped, their path blocked by two armed guards.

"State your business," one of them demanded.

"Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Carter. We're here to talk to Kalfas."

The two men looked at each other and Sam tensed, expecting to be turned back. Instead, one of them stepped aside, his hand reaching for the door. "I shall escort you to Mister Kalfas."

"Only you two," the other guard clarified, staring daggers at Ashwan's two escorts.

"Take five, boys," O'Neill ordered.

"Colonel, we were ordered to-"

"We'll be fine, stay out here," O'Neill interrupted.

The man relented, shrugging slightly as he took a step back. "We'll wait for you here, sir," he said.

Sam followed O'Neill inside, her eyes taking a moment to adjust to the dimness after the bright sunlight outside. It was quiet and relatively cool. Like many buildings in Tagrea, this one was not air conditioned. Rather they depended on the building's thick walls and stone tile floors to keep the heat out. Ceiling and floor fans circulated the air and drawn shades kept the worse of the sunlight out.

They were led through several corridors and down two flights of stairs into what Sam guessed to be a subterranean level. The walls she passed were plain and simple, painted a creamy white that contrasted nicely with the dark wood trim and doors.

The guard stopped in front of one of the doors, turning and studying them before opening it. Sam looked over O'Neill's shoulders and saw Kalfas inside, seated behind a heavy desk. She followed O'Neill into the room, not surprised when the guard shut the door behind them, remaining out in the hall. "Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter," Kalfas acknowledged, not standing up.

"Kalfas," O'Neill said. "You're looking well."

"Why are you here?" Kalfas asked, his face closed and not welcoming. It was obvious to Sam that the man still remembered SG-1's role in the loss of his job.

Sam noticed that even though there were chairs in front of the desk, they were not invited to sit. Kalfas looked similar to the last time she'd seen him. He was no longer wearing his uniform but his clothing was similar in cut and style to the tan colored outfit she'd last seen him in. It was also similar to what the two guards had been wearing and she guessed that the Denialists were adopting some sort of uniform. They wore a tunic and pants outfit similar to the Colonel's, but their tunic was shorter, barely coming to the tops of their thighs. Their colors were all natural tones, browns and dark greens, a choice that Sam knew could easily serve as simple camouflage.

"What, we can't come and visit an old friend?" O'Neill asked, sitting in one of the chairs.

"You are many things, Colonel O'Neill, but I do not call you a friend," Kalfas said bluntly.

"Chairman Ashwan said that he was going to contact you," Sam said hoping to defuse some of the tension.

"He did," Kalfas said.

"Did he mention something about a ship?" O'Neill fished.

"He told me that some explorers found a large ship buried in the desert."

"It's called a Hatak ship," Sam said. "It's aah, a mother ship."

"Mother?"

"Sometimes a goa'uld will use one of these ships as a base of operations. They're massive," she said. "In fact, your whole building here would easily fit inside it."

"And, no doubt, you wish access to this Hatak ship," Kalfas said, his tone openly disdainful.

"What was your first clue?" the Colonel quipped.

Sam shut her eyes and sighed softly. It was obvious that the Colonel not only remembered their last encounter but hadn't forgiven it either. Kalfas had taken several people hostage, including Teal'c and Jonas, to prevent them from using the Stargate. Unwittingly, Kalfas had committed what, to Colonel O'Neill, was a mortal sin, he'd endangered part of his team. And that was a sin that the Colonel did not forgive easily.

"Commander Kalfas-"

"I am no longer a commander," Kalfas interrupted. "Ashwan saw to that."

"You went rogue. You're probably lucky he didn't have you shot," Colonel O'Neill said.

"Sir..." Sam rebuked softly. The Colonel looked at her and made a small gesture, signaling that he would back down. "Kalfas, I know that you don't believe that we should explore this ship."

"The past was buried for a reason," Kalfas said.

"And we have a saying on Earth, those that don't remember the past are doomed to repeat it," Sam responded. Kalfas frowned and Sam took a breath, calming down. "Kalfas, as much as you don't want it to exist, that ship is a reality. It's just a matter of time before everyone on this planet knows about it."

"Major Carter, do you know what you have done to my planet?" he asked. "Tagrea is teetering on the edge of a civil war. People curious about the past are persecuting those that wish to live in the present. People have been murdered, homes and businesses burned. And all because you and your ship came here."

"We didn't mean-"

"No, I'm sure you didn't," he interrupted.

"Hey," O'Neill said, leaning forward in his chair. "All we wanted to do was to go home."

"And all I want to do is to protect my planet."

"Astonishingly enough, that's what we want to do too," O'Neill retorted.

"Kalfas," Sam said. "Mother ships can be very dangerous."

"They're called mother ships for a reason," O'Neill said. "They can carry a payload of fighters."

"Fighters?"

"They're called Death Gliders," Sam explained. "They have energy weapons and engines that are powered by naqahdah. It's a volatile substance," she continued in response to Kalfas' frown. "If used in concert with an explosive it can amplify the explosive power of the substance exponentially."

"What she means is, there could be enough naqahdah on that ship to blow up half your planet," O'Neill said.

Kalfas smiled grimly. "And so the true nature of your benevolence comes to light."

"If we wanted it, we would have used Prometheus and taken control of it by now," O'Neill said.

"Kalfas, our government would love it if we brought that ship home," Sam said. "In fact, that's one of the reasons that we're here. And if your people don't want it, we will find a way to get it space worthy and fly it out of here."

"But we're not going to steal it," O'Neill stated.

"Why are you even speaking to me?" Kalfas asked. "Ashwan and the Zealots control the ship."

"And I'll bet that your people have a better idea what's going on than they do," O'Neill said shrewdly.

Kalfas' eyes narrowed. "Colonel O'Neill?"

"You weren't surprised when Ashwan called, were you?"

"No," Kalfas admitted.

"How many agents do you have out there?"

"There is a limit to what information I will share."

"Which is?"

"There are approximately a hundred Zealots living in the ship. And since Ashwan will not secure the area, more join them every day."

"What are they doing?"

"We do not know. I have no agents in with the Zealots. Although I would not be surprised if Ashwan does."

"What are your plans?" Sam stayed silent and simply listened to the exchange, grateful that the two men had come to an understanding, even if she knew it was a tentative and tenuous one.

Kalfas smiled slightly. "We have no plans."

"I may have been born at night, but it wasn't last night," O'Neill said.

"All things have their limits," Kalfas insisted.

"What about us?" Sam asked.

"Major?"

"If Chairman Ashwan and the religious order agree to let us have the ship, will you stop us?"

"My goal is what it has always been - to protect my planet. If what you say is true and there are weapons on board that ship, I would rather no one have them than any one group," Kalfas said.

"Even your own?" O'Neill asked.

"Even my own. Our ancestors buried that ship for a reason. It is nostalgia and nostalgia is weakness."

"What if they won't let us have it or even have access to it?" Sam asked.

"Then I would say that it will do you well not to interfere and do even more damage to Tagrea." Kalfas looked at both of them seriously. "I wish for nothing more than for your Prometheus to be repaired so that you and your kin can leave us in peace and we can begin to mend all that you have broken."

"Kalfas-" O'Neill started, breaking off when the door to Kalfas' office flew open. O'Neill jumped to his feet, his hand straying towards his back while Sam clutched the bag tight, wondering just how quickly she could get her hands on her weapon.

"What is the meaning of this?" Kalfas demanded.

"Sir, forgive me for disturbing you but something has happened," the man said, his words spilling out in a rush. "There has been an attack."

"What kind of attack?" O'Neill demanded, ignoring Kalfas' harsh glare at his interruption.

"The central marketplace. Someone opened fire upon the patrons. There are many injured."

"Tighten security to the building. Place guards at each entrance and clear the square of all but our own," Kalfas ordered, opening his desk drawer and pulling out a weapon.

"Colonel O'Neill, you and Major Carter must leave."

"We can help," O'Neill offered.

"I'm a trained field medic," Sam said, following her CO's lead.

Kalfas shook his head. "You must return to your ship."

"Oh my god," Sam said, the mention of the Prometheus jogging her memory.

"Carter?"

"Major Gant was going to the market," she said.

As he digested her words, she watched the expression on O'Neill's face change. His eyes narrowed and his jaw tightened. "You're taking us with you," he said, his tone resolute.

"Colonel-"

"Kalfas, one of our own might be there. We're going to this market, with or without you," O'Neill declared. Kalfas stared at him for a second before nodding curtly. He stalked past

O'Neill and followed the other man out the door. "He's seriously gotta brush up on his people skills," O'Neill said, motioning for Carter to follow him as they both broke into a jog and hurried to catch up.

Jack sat in the backseat of the transport, his fingers drumming mindlessly on his leg. Their loaned vehicle was nestled within Kalfas' convoy, something that was both good and bad as far as Jack was concerned. In one way, Jack didn't mind. It meant that there was no way Kalfas could leave them behind. But, on the other hand, if things went south, they were trapped.

Around them the activity increased as they got closer and closer to the market. Jack could see pedestrians running, their eyes wide with terror and their clothing stained and torn. It was a look he remembered, one he'd seen far too many times in his life. People running for their lives, their hearts pounding and their mouths dry. To some, it still hadn't sunk in that they were alive. Just as he knew that it still hadn't dawned upon them that they'd probably just watched friends and family die either.

Fight or flight was a primal instinct and, often there was nothing more dangerous than a person in that state.

Their convoy pulled to the side of the road and Jack looked out the window as what he guessed to be ambulances sped past. "That doesn't look good," Carter mumbled as the third car passed them.

"At least there ARE injured," Jack said, all too aware that things could certainly be worse.

"Sir, I still do not think that this is a wise idea," one of the guards said, turning around in his seat. "Chairman Ashwan would not like it if-"

"You can tell the chairman that I - WE - can take care of ourselves," Jack said, frustrated by the man's attitude.

"One of our people may be among the injured," Carter said.

Jack sighed silently, his second's habit of reinterpreting his remarks getting on his nerves at the moment.

The convoy pulled back out into the street and continued to wind their way closer to the square. "We will not be able to get much closer," the driver said. "The market is in the oldest part of the city and the streets are too narrow for vehicles."

"Just get us close," Jack said.

After a few more minutes, the convoy stopped and Jack reached for the door, alternately eager for and dreading the next few minutes. They needed to check on Major Gant, but he also knew what he was going to find even before he set eyes on it. Human or alien, terrorism was a great equalizer.

He walked forward, sensing Carter at his side as the two guards trailed behind them. Jack could tell that they were annoyed and upset but he didn't care. They didn't matter, finding Gant did.

"What a mess," Carter muttered, standing beside him as he paused to get his bearings.
The Tagrean market square was fairly large, perhaps the equivalent of three city blocks. The merchants appeared to use a hodge-podge of tents, tables and simply laying their wares on the paved ground. On any normal day, Jack knew that it would be organized chaos. A mish-mash of sounds and smells meant to entice and intrigue.

These squares, the predecessor of the modern, sterile supermarkets, were usually the heart of a city. They were the universal meeting place, a common ground where gossip was exchanged and alliances forged. They would play host to weddings and funerals, ordinations and executions.

But for many here today, Jack knew that the square had taken on a whole new meaning, a place of terror and death. "I don't suppose you have any idea where to start?" he asked eying a pair of medical techs as they hurried past, carrying a wounded person on a stretcher.

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't even know what she was shopping for."

He sighed, expecting her answer. "Let's make a circuit," he said. "Keep your purse handy," he quipped, taking a moment to rib her about her accessories. He knew it was a cliché, but he had to give her credit for her ingenuity.

"At least it wasn't a bomb," she muttered, ignoring his words, although he did catch her rolling her eyes.

"Six people with automatic weapons can do just as much damage," he said, studying the deep pock marks on the stone walls and the shattered merchandise.

"And be twice as terrifying."

Mindful that his companion's footwear wasn't the best in the world, Jack veered off to the right, his eyes searching for the tell tale navy of Gant's jumpsuit.

"Prometheus still hasn't heard from her," Carter said, almost reading his mind. Ronson may have allowed his crew to mingle with the Tagreans, but he did insist that everyone be in constant radio contact.

"Anyone else missing?"

"No, sir. Major Gant is the only one unaccounted for. Jonas and Teal'c are on their way back to Prometheus," she reported.

Jack continued to pick his way through the debris, his boots kicking aside some shattered pottery. He could see a bit of everything strewn about the market, bread, clothes, firewood and fruit. A few chickens crossed his path, squawking in protest when he kicked at it. One thing he didn't see was blood. Which was a good sign. It'd always amazed him how much blood could be contained in a single human body.

"Keep trying your radio," he ordered, realizing that it could take them all day to fully search the market, not to mention how much longer it would take if Gant had already been taken away with the wounded.

"Yes, sir," Carter answered, her hand digging in her bag. She pulled out her radio and started talking into it. Jack tuned her out, well aware that she'd let him know if she got a response.

They walked on for several more minutes as Carter's calls went unanswered. "Maybe they already got her out," Jack said, his gaze settling on a large figure lumbering towards them. "Heads up," he warned, his hand slipping to his back.


"Sir," Carter said, holding up her radio as the man got closer. Jack glanced at her, frowning as a sound registered. He heard a rhythmic thump that matched the man's footsteps.

The big man stopped right in front of them, the radio dwarfed in his beefy hands. "Do you know Miss Erin?" he asked, his voice urgent.

"Gant?" Jack asked.

"Miss Erin from the grand ship in the desert," he said.

"Where is she? Is she okay?" Carter asked.

"She would not let the medical personnel take her," he said. "This way."

He hurried back the way he'd come and Jack nodded, motioning for Carter to join him. The followed the man, jogging to keep up as he picked his way among the debris with a grace that belied his size. He led them to a stall that was along the edges of the market, a place that Jack knew to be a prized one.

He knelt beside a figure and Carter hurried forward, kneeling beside him. "She was awake until just a few minutes ago," the man said, hovering protectively over Gant. The major was lying on the cobblestones, a large dark stain coloring the leg of her jumpsuit. Jack could see a few blood stained pieces of cloth, evidentially left from the man trying to control the bleeding.

"What happened?" Jack asked, letting Carter tend to the major.

"Six men with weapons, they started shooting," the man said. "She pushed me out of the way." He reached down and took Major Gant's hand, holding it gently.

Carter cursed under her breath then shifted her position, pulling her skirt free. Jack watched as she ripped a strip of cloth from the skirt, using it as a bandage. "It's a through and through, sir, but she's lost a lot of blood," she reported. "Sir, we need to get her to the doctor on Prometheus."

Jack nodded, expecting her to say just that. He looked behind them, judging just how far they'd walked. As slight as the major was, he wasn't looking forward to carrying her back to the vehicle. "Let me see if I can find one of the medical techs. Get a stretcher."

"You have someone that can assist her," the man said. "She wanted to get back to her ship, but I did not know how to get her there."

"We can get her there...." Jack paused, motioning at the man.

"Mahran," he supplied. "I sell vegetables to Miss Erin."

Jack nodded again. "Mahran. We have someone back on the ship that can help her. But we need to get her back to our vehicle. Can you help us?"

"For Miss Erin, yes." Mahran moved back and knelt beside Gant, waiting for Carter to finish her makeshift bandage before reaching out to pick the woman up. He got to his feet, Gant held in his arms. "I can take her as far as is needed," he declared.


/////


"I knew that this was a stupid idea," Ronson muttered as he paced back and forth in the corridor. "I never should have let her talk me into these shopping expeditions."

"It wasn't your idea?" Jack asked, not because he really cared but hoping that he could distract the man a bit, maybe stop him from pacing sometime before he wore a hole in the deck plates.

After all, this ship was almost fixed, the last thing they needed was for something else to go wrong with it.

Ronson shook his head. "No. I mean, I'm glad we're friends and all with the Tagreans, but I didn't want my people to mix with them too much."

"Trying to avoid 'sailor in port' syndrome?" Jack quipped.

Ronson stopped and shot him a frowning look, staring until he understood Jack's comment. "God, no," he said, disgusted. "They all got the lecture."

Jack snorted. "Yeah, so has every sailor since Leif Erickson. They don't listen. I mean, hell, half the time Carter just goes off and does what she wants." Ronson raised his eyebrows. "Well, she does ask permission, I think. She's usually rambling on eighty words a minute and I just...give her the benefit of the doubt. It's really much easier that way."

"I know what you mean," Ronson commiserated. "Both of them are too damn smart for their own good. You know, she managed to realign the rings all by herself. Got us an extra twenty or thirty meters on a ring to ground transport."

"Carter keeps tweaking her naqahdah reactor. I think she's almost got it to the point that two or three of them can run the SGC," Jack said.

"She's got a cool head in battle," Ronson said. "Didn't hesitate once when we were shaking Prometheus down."

"She gets damned independent," Jack groused. "Hathor tries to cook her brain and all she'll ever say is 'I'm fine.'

"I swear to God, I never know what's going on in her head. She acts all calm and in control but every once in a while I get a glimpse of something that spooks the hell out of me. It's like she can see right through you."

"Try pulling something over on her," Jack said. "Last year Daniel." He paused for a half second then continued, realizing that he could finally say his friend's name without feeling the sharp sting of loss. "Wanted to throw a surprise party. Took her a whole two days to figure it out."

"That's not too-"

"He started planning a month ahead of time," Jack interrupted.

"Ah."

"She's got the surprised act down pat though. I still think that he thinks - thought - that he'd pulled it off."

"What the hell are they doing in there?" Ronson exclaimed, stalking over to the closed infirmary door.

"A watched door never opens," Jack said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he cautiously flexed his knee. His torn ligament may have been sufficiently healed but it still didn't like to be kept standing around for the better part of an hour. "You said you hand picked the crew, right?"

Ronson looked back at him and frowned. "What's that got to do with this?"

"I doubt you picked someone that finished last in his med school class," Jack said. "He's probably not as good as Frasier but-"

The door to the infirmary opened and they both turned as Carter walked out. "Carter?" Jack asked.

"He's just finishing up, sir," she said. Colonel Ronson had not seen the need to keep both a nurse and doctor on Prometheus to tend to a crew of less than twenty so she'd been pressed into service as the man's assistant. "She's going to be fine," she reassured Ronson.

"Major?"

"The doctor knows the technical terms but...the bullet went straight through. He just needed to make sure there was no permanent damage and stitch things up a bit," she reported.

She was still wearing her dress from earlier in the day, but now a disposable paper gown covered it. The rough material was smeared with blood, as where the gloves that were balled up in her hand.

Ronson nodded, his eyes going past Carter as the doctor stepped into view. "Doctor? Do I need to make arrangements to evac Major Gant to Earth?"

Doctor Read shook his head. "Eventually, yes," he said. "But for the time being, I don't want her stressed," he said. "I don't know what Major Carter told you, but Major Gant lost a significant amount of blood. I'm going to keep her here under observation for seventy-two hours at least."

"Do we need to get anything from the SGC?" Jack asked, prepared to make a trip to the Stargate to requisition supplies.

Doctor Read shook his head. "Our infirmary is fully stocked. About the only thing the SGC could offer that we can't is cable TV." He smiled, the action revealing teeth that could definitely have benefited from a close encounter with an orthodontist. "You can go see her, if you want, sir," he said to Ronson. "I'm going to go back to my quarters and clean up a bit, if you don't mind, Major," he said.

Carter nodded and the doctor turned, making his way down the hall and towards the crew quarters as Ronson stepped into the infirmary, leaving Carter and Jack alone in the hall. She sighed and leaned against the bulkhead, one hand going up to the back of her neck to undo the tie to the gown. "Carter?"

She shook her head slightly. "Just a long day, sir."

Jack nodded. "Why don't you go get cleaned up too," he suggested.

"Doctor Read-"

"He wouldn't have left if she wasn't stable," Jack said. "I think Ronson and I can manage to call for help if something happens."

"I aah, actually, that'd be nice, sir. Thanks." She balled up the paper gown and tucked it under her arm before following Read's path towards the crew quarters.

Jack watched her go, then turned his attention back to the open infirmary door. He stepped towards it, then stopped, realizing that Ronson just might not want a visitor at the moment. Resigning himself to another wait in the hall, he groaned, realizing that, yet again, there was a distinct lack of chairs.


/////


Tarek walked down the corridor, his fingers trailing across the raised carvings. He couldn't believe it. He was here, he was really inside the ship. It was more than he'd even dared to dream of. It was truly a miracle that the temple had survived.

Even now as he walked inside it, he could not grasp the scale of the massive treasure. Around him he could see others of his kin, Followers of Horus, toiling to remove the scars of centuries of abandonment. Women were on their knees, using precious water to wash away the dust while men using long handled brooms brushed the arachnid silks from the corners.

The temple was mostly level, the floor was tilted only slightly and so it was not difficult to walk. The floors were made of a black substance, one that was smooth and shiny where they had been cleaned while the walls were covered in gilded carvings. He recognized some of the symbols as being of the language of Horus.

It would indeed be a good thing if Marshak Anon would grant the Earthers access to the temple. Jonas Quinn had translated the parchment with relative ease and Tarek hoped that he would be able to do the same with these walls. It would be a great day indeed if his Lord's words could be brought back to life.

"Marshak's time is very valuable," his escort chided.

"Of course, of course," Tarek said, abandoning his exploration of the walls. He hurried forward, falling into step behind his escort.

The man led him down another corridor and up several levels. As Tarek walked, he could see that there appeared to be very little damage to the temple. Most of what he saw was signs of abandonment. And a hasty one at that. Here and there he could see ancient debris, scattered bits of clothing and belongings.

Finally they emerged into what appeared to be a control deck. A large console dominated the room. In front of it stood an even larger window, an item that only confirmed the knowledge that they were underground as it was dark and showed hints of rocks.

Several people were gathered around the throne that sat against the back wall. "Marshak," his escort said, pitching his voice to be heard over the murmuring of the crowd.

"Ah, yes." Marshak got to his feet and the crowd parted, clearing his path. "Tarek, I presume," he greeted. Marshak was a tall man, towering half a head over Tarek. His hair was black as night and hung slickly from his head, curling slightly at the ends. His skin was dark and spoke of a person who worked outside or was exposed to the sun on a consistent basis. He was lanky and thin, his bare arms sinewy and muscled.

"Yes, yes, I am pleased to meet you," Tarek said, clasping the man's hand in greeting.

"I was hoping that you would come and join us," Marshak said. "We have only begun to fully explore this temple and we have found many treasures that we do not know the meaning of."

"I would be honored to offer my expertise," Tarek said, speaking the truth. It would indeed be great if he could see more artifacts. And he found it quite welcome to not have to hide in the shadows, fearful of being found out. "However, that is not what I came to speak to you about," he said, breaching the true reason for his visit.

Marshak frowned. "What is it then?"

"I do not know if you are aware, but I have made the acquaintance of some off-worlders..."

"The ones who found the Ring of the Gods?" Marshak asked. Tarek nodded. "Then we do have them to thank for allowing us to find this temple."

"Yes." Tarek nodded enthusiastically. "Marshak, they wish to see this ship."

"Temple," Marshak corrected.

"What?"

"This is a temple to our Lord. Why do the off-worlders wish to see it?"

"They believe that they can help us to understand this...temple."

Marshak shook his head. "We need no assistance in understanding the word of our Lord."

Tarek walked over to one of the walls. "Can you tell me what this says?" he asked, pointing out a series of carvings.

"Can you not read it yourself?"

Tarek smiled slyly, seeing the truth behind the man's bluster. "The Earthers can read this. They can help us to fully understand our temple."

"Or take it from us," one of the people said, moving close and joining their circle. "Already the Denialists and the Protectionists seek ways to come and take our temple from us. What is to stop these Earthers from conspiring with one of them?"

"They said that they would not," Tarek said.

"Only a fool places his trust in the word of a stranger."

"They are not strangers to me," Tarek said.

"Perhaps it is you that seeks control of this temple," another accused.

"Enough!" Marshak roared, his voice echoing off the walls.

"Tarek would not take our temple," a female voice said. Tarek turned, smiling as he recognized Kresha, one of his students. "He is an honorable man."

"Kresha," Tarek greeted, moving towards her. "I had not seen you in quite some time. I feared the worst."

She smiled, her dark eyes sparkling. "My brother and I moved to the outskirts of town. When we heard about the Ring of the Gods, we had to come and see it. And then when word spread about the temple..." She raised her hands and looked around. "It is greater than I ever imagined."

"It is indeed," Tarek said.

She looked at Marshak. "If he says these men are honorable, they are," she said. "I trust Tarek with my life. I have trusted him since the day ten years ago when I asked him to teach me about the Lord Horus."

Marshak stared, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Very well," he said. "They may come."

"Marshak!"

"I have made my decision," Marshak interrupted. "The Earthers will be allowed access to this temple. But they will be escorted at all times. And if they attempt to take our temple from us, we shall stop them. As we shall ANYONE who attempts to take this temple from us."

Tarek paused, his joy at Marshak's decision dampened by the threat that was in his voice. Marshak's tone was resolute and firm and Tarek had no doubt that he meant to defend this temple with his life. Tarek was torn. He could understand Marshak's feelings. He too wanted to protect the temple. But he did not know if he could kill to do so. Such a thing seemed to violate the very tenets of Horus' teachings.

"They can come in the morning," Marshak said. "And Tarek, I shall hold you personally responsible if something happens."

"Of course," Tarek replied automatically. He was not fond of the terms, or the attitude. But he also knew that the more important thing was to study this temple and discover its secrets.

"Take him back outside," Marshak ordered. "Return in the morning and we shall grant you access. Do not bring anyone but the Earthers."

"I shall return in the morning," Tarek said. He turned and quickly left the control deck, his escort trailing behind.

He still had mixed feelings about Marshak's true motives, however, the greater good had to prevail. This temple was too great of a wonder to allow it to go unexplored. Jonas Quinn would understand, of that he was sure.

"Do you think that was wise?" Bretan asked Marshak softly as Tarek disappeared around the corner.

Around them, the rest of the Followers returned to their duties, leaving the two men to talk in peace.

"We do not kill our own," Marshak said. "And, despite his faults, Tarek is a loyal Follower."

"Who wishes to bring off-worlders into our midst," Bretan reminded. "And we do not know where their loyalties lie."

"Can you read the carvings on that wall?" Marshak asked, pointing out a series of shapes and glyphs.

Bretan shook his head. "None of us can. Tis the price of five generations of hiding. Most of those that knew how to read the writing were killed in the first attacks. And many others were too frightened to pass on their knowledge to their children."

"Tarek says the off-worlders can," Marshak shrugged.

"How do we know if they speak the truth?" Bretan asked, his deep voice belying his exterior.

Bretan was a short man, the top of his head coming up barely to Marshak's shoulders. He was fair of coloring and light of skin. His blond hair curled unruly which was why he often preferred to keep it shorn short, too short for fashion. He was an artist by trade and was responsible for re-creating many of the artifacts the Followers had found over the years. He was most skilled at crafting copies that were often indistinguishable from the originals, a skill that transcended even his inability to understand the language he wrote.

"They found the Ring of the Gods," Marshak said.

"Marshak-"

"Bretan. You have been told the same legends as I. What if they are true?" Marshak asked, pitching his voice low. "And what if those dark secrets were buried on this temple?"

"Do we want to risk off-worlders finding them?" Bretan asked.

"If only a fraction of the legends are true, I would rather risk the off-worlders discovering our secrets than to risk releasing that scourge onto Tagrea."


/////


"I'm presuming I don't have to tell everyone to keep their eyes peeled," Jack said, stepping out of the transport. He slid his sunglasses on and felt sweat break out on the back of his neck, despite the fact that it was early morning, the sun maybe a hand's width above the horizon.

"Make notes of any important information we come across," Jonas said.

Jack shot him a glance and rolled his eyes slightly. Sometimes the man's need to translate English into English got on his nerves.

"Carter, if you get a chance to copy the hard drive..." he trailed off, letting his command remain unspoken.

"Sir?" She raised her eyebrows.

"I'm not saying to steal anything. But, you know, copies could be good."

"You believe that the Followers of Horus will not consent to share any knowledge contained in the Hatak ship's database?" Teal'c said.

"If you were in their shoes, would you?" Jack asked. Teal'c raised one eyebrow, conceding the point. "I'm just saying that this might be our only chance to have access to this ship. If you see any information that could benefit us and can get a copy of it without stealing it or letting them know that you have a copy, go for it."

Jack was all too aware of the fine line they were walking. They couldn't risk damaging their relationship with the Tagreans, Prometheus was still dependent on their hospitality and was vulnerable to attack. But the SGC still had its standing orders to consider, to acquire technology and knowledge to defeat the goa'uld. And, ultimately, that battle was a much bigger one.

They also needed to know if there was anything on that ship worth bargaining for. It was possible that the memory banks were blank or damaged beyond repair. And if that was the case, then Earth didn't need to waste any resources getting access to a worthless hunk of junk.

"And if there's nothing of value on the ship?" Jonas asked.

"Let them keep their broken toy," Jack said.

Tarek got out of the front vehicle and waved them forward. Unlike yesterday, they weren't at the mercy of a chauffeur. After she'd recovered a bit, Major Gant had told them were she left her vehicle and Mahran, Jonas and Teal'c had retrieved it late the previous afternoon. Jack preferred it this way, he wasn't too crazy about their continued dependence on the locals for transportation. Not to mention always having to guard their words in front of the Tagreans.

Jack nodded and motioned for his people to move forward. "We're probably going to have to split up. I want half hour radio check-ins. If something creeps you out, report it. This ship is too damn big to get lost in."

"Yes, sir." Carter answered.

As they walked towards Tarek, another man joined them, seeming to melt out of the desert rocks. He was tall and dark and his clothing was different from what Jack was used to. His arms were bare and he was wearing a thin leather vest and dark pants tucked into dark boots. It almost looked like he'd done his shopping at JaffaRUs.

"Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter, Jonas Quinn and Teal'c, this is Marshak Anon," Tarek introduced.

"Marshak," Jack said, sizing the man up. This was no bumbling academic like Tarek, instead Marshak looked lean and deadly. There was a coldness in his eyes that warned Jack that it would not be a good thing to try and fool him.

"Colonel O'Neill," Marshak greeted, his voice cool but not threatening. Jack got the feeling that Marshak was sizing him up as much as Jack just had him.

"I hear you got yourself a space ship," Jack said, smiling tightly. There was no need to antagonize the guy, not when his team was about to be surrounded by his followers. Right now, they had a mission to accomplish. There'd be time to antagonize later.

"My people call it a temple," Marshak corrected. "It is believed that this is where our Lord Horus lived before he was driven from this planet."

"We've seen goa'uld do that on other planets," Carter spoke up. "They use the mother ship as a building. Often the natives don't even realize that it's just a ship."

"You have seen such...ships before?" Marshak asked.

"Yep," Jack answered. Deliberately neglecting to mention that they had a better track record of blowing them up than keeping them around. That was one little fact that Marshak was probably better off not knowing. "Teal'c here served time on some of these ships. And Carter knows her way around." He saw Jonas' face fall a bit. "And Jonas has probably memorized the floor plans," he said.

Marshak nodded. "You can read the writing?"

"I can," Teal'c said. "If it is in a dialect with which I am familiar."

"The same with me," Jonas said. "And Major Carter too."

"And you Colonel?" Marshak asked. "You can decipher the carvings in our temple?"

"My Goa'uld's a little rusty," Jack said, refusing to rise to the bait. "But I've had more than a little experience with the trash they leave behind," he said.

An odd expression crossed Marshak's face and Jack tensed, wondering what he said. Abruptly, Marshak smiled. "Then I think your assistance will be most welcome. Come," he invited, stepping aside and waving his hand. "I shall show you our temple."

Jack looked at his team and shrugged, falling into step behind Marshak. The man led them down into a ravine that turned into a near tunnel. Jack pulled off his sunglasses and pulled a flashlight out of his pocket, noticing that Carter and Jonas did the same. All of them had left their large arms back at the ship although he and Carter and Jonas all had their sidearms with them.

The tunnel opened into a large cavern and Jack paused for a moment, taking a second to soak in the sight of a gleaming Hatak ship surrounded by rocks. "Yep, that's a ship all right," he said, pushing his hat back.

"Incredible," Carter said, stepping forward and shining her light around the cavern. "It could have taken them years to bury this."

"Or longer," Teal'c said.

"Please," Marshak said motioning him forward. "It is not always safe outside.
Occasionally rocks do fall."

"Right," Jack said. "Knew not wearing those helmets would bite us some day."

Carter chuckled and ushered Jonas as they fell into step and made their way towards the interior of the ship.

Marshak ducked under a railing and led them onto a balcony. "Teal'c?" Jack asked, not familiar with this feature of a Hatak ship.

"Many Hatak ships possess what humans call a balcony. It is to permit the ship to have access to a planet's atmosphere while it is on the ground. The feature is then sealed off when the ship takes flight," he explained.

"So there's more of these?" Jack asked, searching for possible routes of egress should
things go south.

"Usually one on each side and each level. All of the windows can be opened to create a path upon which the air will circulate."

"They're only on the upper levels, sir," Carter said. "Top ten decks or so. The lower levels are mainly engineering, the holding cells, store rooms and barracks."

"Don't want the help hopping out the windows I guess," Jack said.

"Indeed," Teal'c said. "It is not uncommon for a goa'uld to control every movement of his troops."

"I doubt many people go AWOL if they can't get out," Sam said.

"It would control the flow of intelligence too," Jonas said. "If you control access to the soldiers, you control who they talk to. We did the same thing on Kelowna. It wasn't uncommon for members of our military to be followed or trailed."

"Lovely," Jack said following Marshak deeper into the ship. All around him, the ship was quiet. There was no hum of air circulation or power, just the echoing sounds of their foot falls. Other than their flashlights, the only source of illumination was wide spaced torches.

Marshak led them into a hall where another man was waiting. "This is my friend, Breton," Marshak introduced. "Either he or I shall accompany you," he said.

"Afraid we'll get lost?" Jack asked, nor surprised by the man's declaration.

"There is much of this temple that we have not ventured into," Marshak said. "And, as you have said, there is sometimes...trash left behind." He paused over the strange term. "I would not wish for any of your group to be injured by such material."

"Of course you don't," Jack said. "Carter, suggestions?"

She looked around. "The ship's power generators might still be operational. If they're okay and if the central core is in one piece, we can probably restore power." She turned to look at Marshak. "If we can restore power, we can get the life support working on all levels. And if the rock falls are a danger, the shields MIGHT be operational. It would help to protect the ship."

Jack nodded. "Teal'c and I will go down and look at the engines. You and Jonas check out the central core."

"Yes, sir," she said. "Marshak, how far down have you explored?"

"Just a few levels. It is very dark and difficult to navigate. Most of my people are living on the upper levels."

"After three hundred years, the air might not be too good down there, sir," Carter said. "Especially if there are no windows."

Jack nodded. "We'll take that under advisement." He looked at his watch. "Check in at 1000."

"Where is this central core?" Marshak asked.

"Two levels up," Carter said. "It's a shielded room in the middle of the ship. We can show you where it is."

"Please."

The three of them headed off in one direction and Jack watched them go before turning to Teal'c. "So, dark and spooky engine room that might or might not have breathable air?" he said.

"That is the task you have volunteered us for, O'Neill," he said, fixing Jack with an amused glare.

"That's why I got the big Jaffa with me," Jack quipped. "Lead the way, big guy."

"Some of the people have said that they have heard noises," Breton said, speaking up for the first time.

"Noises?" Jack asked. "You gonna tell me this place is haunted?"

"I do not believe that the noises are spirits," Breton said. "Most are concerned that animals may have made their homes on the lower levels."

"Lions, tigers and bears, oh my," Jack said, ignoring Teal'c's skeptical look. Suddenly traipsing around a computer core didn't seem all that bad.


/////


Sam followed Marshak and Jonas through the halls, more than content to let them chat. As they walked, they passed by several people, most of them reminding Sam of a combination of refugees and simple villagers.

Many were working on cleaning the ship. Even though Sam guessed that it had been mostly sealed, centuries of dust still covered every surface. Sam could also see signs that the last few days before the ship was abandoned had not been peaceful ones. Many of the walls bore scratches, scrapes and scars reminiscent of a fight. There were dents in some of the bulkheads and large patches that suggested that maybe someone had removed some sort of graffiti.

It wouldn't surprise her if the Colonel and Teal'c returned from the engine room and reported finding bodies. In a ship this massive and complex, it was almost impossible to do a complete sweep of every room and corridor.

Most of the people they passed looked upon them curiously, their faces open and non-threatening. But there were a few that definitely had suspicion and tempered hostility in their eyes. She had a pretty good idea why. If even a few of the stories she'd heard from Tarek were true, then these people had been hunted and persecuted probably since the day Heru'ur was overthrown.

That kind of treatment would make anyone a bit unwelcoming and distrusting of strangers.

Of course, while she could understand it, she still couldn't help feeling more than a little ill at ease when faced with such attitudes. They were already vastly outnumbered on Tagrea and this far underground, there was no way the Prometheus could bail them out.

"Do you believe that the memory banks in this temple are capable of being accessed?"
Marshak asked.

"Sam?" Jonas turned back to look at her, calling on her expertise. He may be a fast study, but she'd spent more time working with goa'uld data bases than pretty much anyone on Earth.

"Probably," Sam said, not wanting to commit them to fixing the impossible. "The goa'uld use crystals to store their information. And, unlike other recording media, crystals can hold up almost indefinitely over time. The bad thing is, if they're cracked or broken, there's no way to retrieve what's on them."

"And since this ship was buried instead of crashing, the crystals might be intact," Jonas said.

"It was buried, but who knows what sorts of vandalism and destruction took place before the last people abandoned it," Sam said, feeling the need to be a realist. "Marshak, there is a good chance that they survived, but all you have to do is look at the walls to see that there was a lot of fighting on this ship. One stray shot is all it'd take."

"I see." Marshak nodded. "And if the core has been damaged?"

Sam shook her head. "I'm afraid there's not much we can do. There's not a computer on Earth that's powerful enough to run a Hatak ship."

Sam didn't add that even if they did have a computer, they weren't going to share it.

"Is this temple habitable without the core?" Marshak asked, pausing in front of a large door that Sam knew hid the computer core.

"In a limited manner, yes," she said. "The core controls lighting, gravity, waste reclamation, water and air circulation. It will also control any flight controls and engines that are still operational. Many of these systems can work without the core, or aren't needed when you're on the planet, like the gravity generators. But without running water or sanitary facilities, not very many people will be able to live here without endangering their lives."

"Then I hope it will work," Marshak said, pushing the door open. "Because more join us each day."

Sam followed Marshak into the core, pausing just inside the threshold. The room was dark, just a few emergency lights flickered in the corners. She reached for her flashlight and saw that Jonas did the same.

The room was bigger than the other cores she'd seen. It had a large center control pedestal and the walls were lined with black panels. Sam knew that those panels most likely protected rows of crystals. Or, more accurately, the panels probably once protected rows of crystals, she amended, catching sight of more than one broken panel.

"This doesn't look good," Jonas said, exploring the other side of the room.

"I was afraid of this," Sam said, moving to the control pedestal.

"Is the damage not repairable," Marshak asked.

"Maybe," Sam said, prying the cover off the pedestal. She studied the crystals then looked up at Marshak who was hovering just to her side. "It looks like someone took their frustrations out on a lot of the memory banks," she said. "And we've never successfully pulled data off a shattered crystal. But the main control panel seems to be intact."

"This is good?"

"This is very good," she confirmed. "It looks like the motherboard is intact but parts of the hard drive have been damaged." Marshak continued to stare at her, not understanding her Earth terminology.

"Think of it like a library," Jonas said, joining them. He had a broken crystal in his hand. "Even if a few of the books are damaged, the library still exists."

"Close but not quite," Sam said, getting to her feet. "Let's say the computer core is a book and it's got a few pages missing. Only time will tell if you can understand the story with the pages missing or if it's just disjointed gibberish."

Marshak nodded. "I believe I understand now."

"The good news is, since the main core is intact, we can probably bring up at least a few of the ship's systems."

"And those that will not operate?"

"We might be able to reprogram them," Jonas said. "Reuse undamaged crystals from unnecessary systems."

"Maybe," Sam said. "Despite the fact that they look the same, crystals aren't usually interchangeable. If they broke too many we may have nothing to work with."

"Do you have any replacements?" Marshak asked.

"No," Sam said. "Earth technology is based on something totally different. And goa'uld crystals are very hard to come by."

"Will you be able to repair it?"

Sam took a moment, studying the damaged panels and tried to figure out which of them were necessary systems and which were optional. "I don't know," she said honestly. "I'll need to study things more."

"Then I shall leave you to your task," Marshak said. "My duties prevent me from remaining here." He looked towards the door and motioned for a woman to join them. "This is Lyta. She has spent much of her life studying artifacts from our Lord's time. She will assist you to the best of her abilities."

"Lyta," Sam said, trying to hide her disappointment as she greeted the woman. She'd hoped that they'd be left alone - although, if the situation was reversed, she wouldn't have left strangers alone in the SGC.

"Marshak said that you understand the magic of the gods," Lyta said, her hazel eyes wide with enthusiasm. Lyta was a tall woman, almost able to look Sam in the eyes. Her long brown hair was twisted back into several braids from which errant strands sprang free. Like many of the others in the group, she wore a simple dark dress over a thin homespun, long sleeved blouse.

"We call them goa'uld," Jonas corrected. "And yes, we understand it. Would you like me to show you?"

"Jonas," Sam said. "Why don't you see if there are any undamaged systems. Before we can decide which ones to focus on, we need to know what's what."

"No problem," Jonas said, motioning for Lyta to join him.

Sam glanced up and looked at Marshak. The man met her gaze, then turned on his heel and left the room. Relieved to be almost alone, Sam again crouched down by the pedestal. She pulled her small tool kit out of her pocket and zipped it open. If Jonas could keep Lyta occupied, she just might be able to get something accomplished.


/////

Bretan followed the two off-worlders down the corridor, his original fear of the weapons they carried turning into appreciation as they descended deeper and deeper into the temple.

The light sources the two men carried was the only thing that penetrated the inky darkness of the lower levels. Unlike above, the air was still and chill and it carried a stale odor.

Their footsteps echoed eerily off the smooth walls and Bretan fought a shiver. He momentarily cursed Marshak for assigning him this task. Yes, it was his duty to protect their temple from being defiled, however he never dreamed that descending into the deepest, darkest parts of the temple would be a task he would carry out.

The walls loomed menacing and Bretan was sure that there was something else down here. He could feel the presence of another entity, sense an air of malevolence and threat. "How much further is this engine room?" he asked, looking back at the fair skinned off-worlder.

The man scowled briefly. "Couple more levels," he said, his voice pitched low.

"Three," the dark man corrected.

"Three?"

"Three."

"I thought we were deeper."

"On a contemporary Hatak ship we would be," the dark man said. "However, O'Neill, the layout of this ship is slightly different from the ones upon which I served."

"There are other temples like this?" Bretan asked, amazed at what he'd just heard.

"They are ships, not temples," O'Neill said.

"To these people, it is a temple."

"Doesn't stop it from still being a ship," O'Neill insisted.

The dark man looked at O'Neill, then turned back to Bretan. "For many years, I was First Prime to the false god Apophis," he said. "During that time, I served on many such ships."

"First Prime?" Bretan asked. "I have not heard that term."

"I commanded many troops," Teal'c said. "And committed many wrongs in the name of a false god."

"Bretan," O'Neill said. "How much do you know about Heru'ur?" he asked.

"Who?"

"You call him Horus."

Bretan nodded. "Oh. Our god, Horus left this planet hundreds of years ago when his children rebelled. Those of us that know and remember him have kept his memory and spirit alive, hoping to greet him when he, one day, returns."

"And if he never comes back?" O'Neill asked.

"He is our god, he will return," Bretan insisted.

"That is highly unlikely," Teal'c said.

"What do you mean?" Bretan asked.

The two men looked at each other for a few seconds. "Let's just say that, the universe is a dangerous place," O'Neill finally said. Bretan frowned.

"Many months ago a goa'uld named Heru'ur was killed by Apophis," Teal'c said.

Bretan felt a coldness clutch at his chest. No. They had to be mistaken. They called Horus Heru'ur. They could not mean that their Lord Horus was dead. "No, he is a god and-"

"They die," Teal'c said. "And they are not gods."

"No." Bretan shook his head. They had to be mistaken.

"Maybe it was a different Horus," O'Neill said, shrugging slightly.

"Bretan," Teal'c said sternly. "It is possible that your 'god' may one day return, however I do not believe that is likely given the time that has passed. Would he not wish for his children to preserve all that he left behind?"

"Yes. That is what we have been doing," Bretan said. "Tarek Solamun is not the only one who has collected artifacts over the years. Among many families, these items are cherished heirlooms, even if possessing them is something that was also kept secret."

"Then, I'd say, helping us get this ship running is what he'd want you to do," O'Neill said.

Bretan stared, studying them the best he could in the dim light. He did not like their words and did not believe their assertions that his god was not going to come back. Yet he did agree that his Lord Horus would be most pleased when he returned to find his children had cared for his wonderful gift. Perhaps that is why the temple was buried, to preserve it and keep it safe until they could master it.

Following that train of thought, Bretan smiled slightly. Marshak's odd behavior made sense now. If it were not for the humans, the Ring of the Gods would still be buried and the Followers of Horus would still be a persecuted people. The humans had proven the existence of his God, and, because of them, he and his brethren had possession of a wonderful temple.

Teal'c possessed the knowledge to operate this temple and, through him and the other humans, Bretan's people would be able to fully appreciate their God's gift. This had to be why Marshak was so willing to permit them access to the temple. The humans were the Deliverers, messengers sent by his God to free his people from generations of oppression.

"Of course I shall assist you," he said. "Not only because my Lord would wish it, but because Marshak does as well." He kept his true feelings to himself. There was no need to embarrass the Deliverers. In fact, it was possible that they had no knowledge of their true places in Tagrea's history.

"Fair enough," O'Neill said, shrugging slightly. "You said three levels, T?" he asked.

"I did."

"Then three more levels we'll go. This just damn well better not be a wild goose chase."

Erin shifted on the bed, hissing softly between her teeth as her movement aggravated the injury to her leg. She settled back against the pillows and took a deep breath, picking up the watch lying beside the bed to get an idea how long it was until her next visit from Doctor Read - and his syringe of happy juice.

She glanced at her surroundings and sighed, the bleak and sterile atmosphere of the infirmary doing little to boost her spirits. She listlessly picked up a novel Colonel Ronson had retrieved from her quarters and contemplated reading it. The slight pounding of her head courtesy of the pain killers changed her mind and she let the book fall to her side, the fingers of her right hand still tangled in the pages. Maybe she'd just sleep. If she slept then maybe she'd heal faster and she could go back to her quarters sooner. Her quarters. With her nice comfortable bed and the pillow she liked and privacy...and her own pajamas.

The door to the infirmary slid open and Erin opened her eyes, turning to see who was visiting her. Colonel Ronson walked in, followed by Sergeant Willows, Prometheus' security chief. "Sir," she moved to sit up in the bed.

"Easy," Ronson urged. "Do you feel up to telling us what happened?"

Erin nodded, settling herself back on the pillows. "A lot of it is a blur," she said.

"I need to know, Major," Willows said. "So I can make an accurate threat assessment."

Erin nodded. "I was at Mahran's stall. He's the vegetable seller," she explained. "He was going to sell me some rajah fruit..." She frowned and looked. "Is he okay?" she asked.

"He's fine," Ronson reassured her. "In fact, he helped Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter find you."

"Do you remember anything about the shooters?" Willows asked.

Erin shook her head slightly, closing her eyes. "There were six of them," she said softly.

Normal market place sounds that faded into terrified screams and shouts as more and more people saw them too.

"They had automatic weapons."

Panic settling in, the terrified pushing past the horrified. People falling, shouting, screaming. Mothers desperately clutching for their children.

"A couple fired over the crowd, but the others didn't."

A woman falling, her dark eyes blank and sightless in death. Blood painting the cobblestones and making them slick. The smell of terror mixing with the aroma of bread and fruit and flowers.

She opened her eyes and looked at Ronson and Willows. "There were a lot of dead, weren't there?"

"I'm afraid so."

"Twenty-five at last count," Willows said. "With a few more in the medical facility in pretty bad shape." Erin nodded. "Did you see who they were?"

Erin shook her head. "They were wearing masks." She brought her left hand up to her face to illustrate, wincing when the movement tugged on her IV.

"Their clothing?" Ronson prodded.

"Dark pants, dark tops."

"Denialists?" Willows asked.

Erin shook her head. "I don't think so. They didn't look like uniforms." She looked up at Ronson. "Has anyone claimed responsibility?"

He shook his head. "Nothing beyond all three sides blaming each other," Willows answered. He looked at Ronson. "Sir, I recommend we limit our contact with the Tagreans."

"That's been your recommendation all along," Ronson said.

"And I stand by it." He nodded at Erin. "Had Major Gant not been in the market place, she would not have been injured."

"And we'd be eating nothing but MRE's," Erin said, just grumpy enough to willingly revive an old argument.

"There's nothing wrong with that," Willows shot back.

"Maybe not to your stomach," Ronson said. "I agreed with Major Gant's idea to foster relationships with the people of this planet. It's kind of hard to explore if you never meet the neighbors."

"And if those neighbors try to kill you, sir?" Willows shot back.

"It's part of the price of exploration," Ronson said. He glanced over at Erin. "I am curtailing our contact with the Tagreans, however," he said. "No one is to go out without an escort, and I'd like to minimize our contact."

"Colonel-" Erin started to protest.

"Major," he interrupted. "As soon as Doctor Read feels you're stable to travel, we're going to send you home. I just heard from General Hammond, the repaired hyper drive components should start coming from Earth within the week, along with the staff to repair the ship. With extra crew, we're going to need extra security."

He turned to Sergeant Willows. "Willows, you're going to be coordinating the on world security, including getting the components from the gate to here." He looked back at Erin. "I'm all for making friends, Major. But my ultimate goal has to be getting this ship and her crew home. And if I need to batten down the hatches to accomplish that, that's what I'm going to do."

"What about SG-1?" Willows asked. Erin frowned. "They're exploring that Hatak ship," he reminded her.

"Colonel O'Neill and his crew are well equipped to take care of themselves," Ronson said. "We'll support them as we can, but our primary duty is to this ship and crew. If there's a civil war about to break out here, I don't want this ship to be caught in the cross fire."


/////


Lyta stood behind the alien Jonas, watching as he wrote notes in the book that he carried. His fingers trailed over the carved symbols and she watched his lips move as he spoke to himself. "You can read the ancient symbols?" she asked.

Jonas glanced over at her and smiled. "Most of it," he said. "The dialect's not one I'm totally familiar with, but the basics are familiar enough that I can extrapolate the meaning."

Lyta smiled, understanding his meaning even if some of the words were alien to her.
"What does it say?" Lyta asked, hungry to have some insight into the language of her God. Reading the symbols was something that was even beyond Marshak and Bretan and they were the two most learned people she knew.

Jonas made a bit of a face. "Most of this is pretty boring," he said. He pointed out passages. "It's mostly instructions and labels. Telling people what each console does and what each button controls."

"Jonas?" his companion said. Lyta looked, watching as the woman pushed herself away from the console she was working on and made her way over to them. "Any luck?"

The woman, Carter, was different from the other women Lyta knew. She dressed in a masculine manner with her hair short and she handled her tools and weapons in a way Lyta had only seen men do. For all her strangeness, Lyta saw something familiar in the woman's eyes, in the way she explored and studied the Temple. She seemed to hold it in a sort of reverence that Lyta did not expect from a non-believer.

Jonas sighed and looked up at his companion. "Not much, Sam," he answered. "Most of these consoles are broken." He gestured towards the silver panels, many of which were uncovered, their multi-colored crystals exposed for all to see.

"That's what I was afraid of," Carter said.

"You cannot make it work?" Lyta asked, frowning at the two of them. Marshak had been so certain that the off-worlders could help them understand the secrets of their Temple.

"There's a lot of damage, Lyta," Carter said. "And like I told Marshak, we don't have any spare parts."

Jonas frowned for a moment then moved to another console. "Sam, I have an idea," he said.

"What?" She walked over to join him.

"Whoever trashed this place, they seemed to do it in a bit of a hurry. It almost looks like they just opened the consoles and smashed it up and moved on."

"That makes sense if there was some sort of revolution. If the slaves were taking revenge, they were probably under fire and if it was the masters, they probably didn't have a lot of time either."

Jonas nodded. "There's a LOT of consoles here. And there are some intact crystals in every one..."

"If we gather together all the working crystals in every console we just might have a complete set and can fire up each console in turn," she said, her face lighting up with enthusiasm.

Jonas smiled back at her. "Maybe two or three at a time if enough crystals are intact."

Lyta looked from one to the other, sensing that they had achieved some sort of break through. "This is good?" Lyta asked.

The two off-worlders looked at each other. "It could be," Carter said.


/////


Senator Robert Kinsey strode through the halls of the SGC, gaining no small amount of enjoyment from his escort's attempts to keep up. The mere fact that he was escorted annoyed him. He knew more secrets than most members of this base. And if Hammond actually believed that he was intimidating the man, the old general was sorely mistaken. Far better men than him had tried, and failed.

They arrived at Hammond's door and Senator Kinsey walked straight in, smiling inwardly at the weak squawk of protest from his escort. Hammond looked up and Kinsey took no small amount of pleasure in the look of annoyance that flashed across the man's face.

"Senator." Hammond refused to stand but Kinsey didn't call him on it, he instead took a seat.

"General." He glanced over his shoulder. "Shut the door behind you," he ordered his escort. Kinsey saw a small nod of permission from Hammond, then heard the door shut. "I understand that SG-1 is about to gain custody of a goa'uld warship," Kinsey said, forgoing the banter.

Hammond stared for a few seconds. "And precisely where did you hear that?" he said.

"Where I heard it is not important," Kinsey dismissed. That I heard it is. General, I believe that this is the...third perhaps, time we have had one of those ships within our grasp. And I am sure that I do not need to tell you now vital it is that we secure it."

"SG-1's mission is ongoing," Hammond said. "And your source has misinformed you. They have not been charged with recovering a ship, merely to investigate its presence."

"They have now," Kinsey said, pulling a sheet of paper out of his breast pocket. "Direct from the Oval Office," he bragged. "SG-1 is to recover this ship, at all costs, and bring it back to Earth."

Knowing what was to come, Kinsey got to his feet, smiling politely. "And before you start to protest, Earth wouldn't need this ship had you and your reckless people had not announced this planet's presence to every alien you encounter. Don't get up. I'm sure I can find my own way out."

Kinsey spun on his heel and stalked from the room.


/////


Teal'c cautiously led O'Neill and Bretan into the inky blackness of the engine room. His boot steps echoed off the walls, the sound carrying in the still, stale air. The room smelled of dust and dirt and the lingering stench of ancient death.

O'Neill moved to Teal'c's side, his flashlight sweeping around the room. "Are we there yet?" he asked.

"Indeed," Teal'c confirmed, willingly playing into the human's need for speech.

Bretan walked past them, his borrowed flashlight held high and his eyes wide. He seemed oblivious to the menacing nature of his surroundings. "This is the heart of the temple," he said, his voice full of wonder.

"It's the engine room," O'Neill said, glancing over at Teal'c.

Teal'c understood the human's cynical attitude, yet he could also empathize with Bretan. He remembered many decades ago when he had his first sight of his 'god's' magic. The sense of reverent wonder and amazement. He remembered his excitement and pride when he'd first met Apophis face to face.

He remembered witnessing Apophis' powers and seeing them as proof of his godhood. It was not until many years later, after he'd learned the hard truth about Apophis that he realized just what a fool he had been.

He glanced at Bretan. As much as he knew the man's loyalty to an absent and false god was wrong, he still wished to spare him the humiliation of learning just how much of a fool he had been.

Such a fact was better received if it was a fact one discovered on one's own.

"What do you think?" O'Neill asked, moving away from Teal'c's side to further explore the room.

"O'Neill?" Teal'c followed him.

"Think these babies have some life left in them?"

"It is possible," Teal'c said. "My familiarity with the inner workings of the engines is limited, but perhaps with Major Carter's assistance, we can bring them to life."

"It won't fly though," O'Neill assessed.

Teal'c shook his head. "I do not believe so. Even if the dirt and rocks in which this ship is buried are removed, I do not believe it possesses the structural integrity to achieve space flight."

"Flight?" Bretan asked, turning back to look at them.

"I've been telling you all along that it's not a temple, it's a ship," O'Neill said, rolling his eyes.

"Flight is unlikely," Teal'c said. "We may, however, be able to restore the power systems." Bretan stared at them, his frown warped into a harsh mockery by the deep shadows and brilliant beams of the three flashlights.

"Lights, air circulation, heating," O'Neill listed. "Stuff you can use to make this place habitable."

"We already live here," Bretan said.

"You'll live better," O'Neill said.

Teal'c slowly stepped away from the two men, his hand wrapped just as tightly around his staff weapon as it was his flashlight. He shined the light on the walls of the engine room, studying it closely for the first time. Even though centuries of dust and grime, he could see signs that the last days of the ship had not been peaceful ones. Carbon scoring scarred the otherwise smooth walls, the irregular black streaks mute testament to the violence.

His eyes caught an irregular lump in the corner and he made his way over to it, the beam of his flashlight revealing a desiccated corpse. The black holes of its eyes echoed the tunnels they'd traversed to enter the ship, just as its slack, gaping jaw reminded Teal'c of one of the empty balconies on the upper levels of the ship.

Despite the fact that this was far from the first corpse Teal'c had seen, and certainly not the most revolting, a shiver ran down his spine nonetheless.

"Looks like housekeeping took the day off," O'Neill said.

"The supposition that there was a revolt is a most likely one," Teal'c said.

"I doubt that's the only body in here," O'Neill said, his acceptance very matter of fact.

"I concur," Teal'c said. He moved his light down to the corpse's chest, revealing armor, recognizable even as it was over three hundred years old. "I do wonder, however, what could have wrought such violence upon a Jaffa warrior?"

O'Neill knelt down and explored the remnants of the man's breastplate. The heavy chain mail was rent and lay agape, revealing the man's rib bones. "Those look like claw marks to you?" O'Neill asked, glancing up with a frown on his face.

"It does not look like a mark left by a human weapon, or a slave's," Teal'c said, willing to admit the oddity of the marks but not quite ready to play into the man's impressions of an animal attack.

"Ashwan ever say anything about them having animals out here?" he asked, pushing himself to his feet.

"I do not believe it was a topic that has been broached."

O'Neill nodded. "Remind me to broach it. I may have watched a few too many Friday Fright Night movies, but I do not like the looks of that." He glanced at his watch. "We need to head back up top. Carter and Jonas should be about done in the core."

"We are leaving?" Bretan asked. He looked around. "But the engines are still silent. You said that you would fix them."

"We will," O'Neill said, moving away from the body. "But in the morning. It took us two hours to get down here and it'll probably take us as long to get back up top. Sooner we start, sooner we're there."

Bretan looked around reluctantly before he joined them as they retraced their footsteps back to the upper levels of the ship.


/////


Tarek walked into the room, his pace slowing as his eyes feasted themselves on the majesty that was before him. He fell to his knees, overwhelmed by his amazement.

"Are you ill?" Marshak asked, standing at his side.

"This was our God's chambers," Tarek whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from the richly appointed walls. They were high and the room was large, at least four times as large as Tarek's own apartment. The walls were painted a rich gold and purple and the floor was black. A large bed dominated one corner, tattered drapes and curtains hanging from tall bed posts. There was a deep fireplace along one wall and a grand throne sat aside it. Tables and chests dotted the room, one table lying on its side, a tray of goblets and a pitcher scattered on the floor. It looked as if Horus had abandoned his home in haste, yet it had also gone unraided and unmolested.

"Yes," Marshak confirmed. "It is the most richly appointed chamber that we have found."

Tarek glanced up at him. "Our Lord Horus may not have wished for grand appointments."

Marshak smiled slightly. "These are the chambers befitting a God." He stepped away and crossed to a small chest set alongside the wall. Tarek clambered to his feet and joined Marshak as the man opened the chest. The lid folded back to reveal riches that took Tarek's breath away. He reached out to touch the items, drawing his hand back at the last second lest he offend Marshak.

"We are unsure what these items are," Marshak said. "I understand that you are learned about such things."

Tarek looked over at the man. "I have spent many years of my life collecting and studying such artifacts," he said. Sensing that he had Marshak's permission, Tarek picked up one of the items, holding it reverently in his hands. It was an odd device, round and perhaps a bit larger than his palm. Twin tendrils twisted into a graceful, golden arc. The center consisted of an orangish stone, covered with odd carvings.

Tarek set the strange device aside and picked up another item. This was a fine carving in some heavy black stone. He immediately recognized the unmistakable bird like representation of Horus. Tarek trailed his fingers across the cold surface of the carved stone, struggling to comprehend what he was holding.

He fought the urge to hunch his shoulders and tuck the small statue into the folds of his tunic. He was unused to examining artifacts so openly, and with witnesses.

"Do you understand these items?" Marshak asked, his words pulling Tarek from his contemplations.

"Some," Tarek said. "Some I have never seen before."

Marshak nodded. "I wish to understand these items. And I wish to ask you to study them."

Tarek gasped, unable to hide his amazement at the man's words. He was being asked to study Horus? After a lifetime of hiding and subterfuge, he was not only going to be able to study unhampered by the need for secrecy, but he was also being asked to do so? He looked down at the small statue in his hand, tracing it with his finger. Study. He was being asked to study his God? Here, in his God's own chambers.

Tarek looked up, reverently scanning the room. This place, where his God once slept, would be his study. In his mind's eye he could see Horus rising from his bed, his dark hair smooth on his back and his fine robes lying loosely across his well proportioned body.

He walked slowly across the tiled floor, his lithe movements as graceful as a feline. He grasped the pitcher and goblet and poured a serving of rich, red wine. Firelight glinted off the golden surface of the goblet and made the rings upon his fingers sparkle like the stars in the night's sky.

"Tarek?" Marshak's hand upon his shoulder drew Tarek from his daydream. "Will you consent to assist us in understanding these items?"

Tarek nodded slowly, one hand clutching the statue to his chest. "I can think of no greater honor," he said.

Marshak smiled. "I shall leave you to it," he said. His smile faded. "You may study these items here, but I ask you to not attempt to leave. These artifacts of our Lord must remain within his temple, lest the unbelievers have access to them."

"I have notes and books that may assist me," Tarek said, uneasy at the prospect of losing contact with his resources. "A lifetime of research."

"We shall retrieve what you require," Marshak said. "Upon that you have my word."

The temptation of the wealth laid out before him smothered the last of his protests and Tarek simply nodded his agreement. Marshak withdrew and Tarek turned, indulging himself in a moment of reverent prayer before he again knelt before the chest, focusing on his task.


/////


Lyta looked over Jonas' shoulder, watching as he wrote strange symbols down on a pad. Across the room, Carter was doing the same and both of the humans' attention seemed to be riveted upon taking an inventory of the intact crystals.

Lyta sighed softly and smothered a yawn. The two off-worlders were so intent upon their task that they'd rarely spoken a word in the past several hours and Lyta found the silence to be rather boring.

Originally, she had volunteered to assist them, but it had soon become apparent that the language barrier was insurmountable, so she contented herself with assisting Jonas while still fulfilling her role as observer.

In the past several hours, the off-worlders had made a lot of progress, more than half of the panels had been opened and the contents inventoried. When they had talked amongst themselves, Lyta had heard mostly positive comments, something that she knew would please Marshak.

As though her thoughts had summoned him, her leader walked into the room. "Marshak," she acknowledged, getting to her feet.

Lyta walked towards him and saw both Major Carter and Jonas get to their feet. "Lyta, Major Carter, Mister Quinn. Has your search yielded any results?"

"Marshak," Major Carter said. "We certainly have results. They're not quite as good as they could have been, but certainly not as bad as I'd feared."

Jonas handed her his list and she scanned it for a few seconds. "We've inventoried about half the core. Huge chunks of it are irreparably damaged and are unrecoverable."

"Which is as you said," Marshak said.

"Yes. But I think we have enough spare crystals to either get part of the ship fully online, or to have limited resources throughout a larger area."

"What resources are you speaking of?"

"Power, lighting, basic life support," she listed.

"Presuming the engines are in good shape," Jonas said.

"Right," Carter agreed.

"But if these systems work..." Marshak's words trailed off as he gestured towards their surroundings.

"Right now we're running on either batteries or a small generator," Carter said. "That's one smart thing that the goa'uld have done. This area of the ship is isolated from the main power system."

"Presumably a redundancy in case of battle damage," Jonas said.

"I understand," Marshak said. "And if the engines are not capable of producing enough power?"

"It won't matter what we fix. If there's no power to run it, the systems might as well stay broken."

Marshak studied the humans, looking at each of them closely. Lyta knew that he was
seeking a clue into their words, trying to discover if they were speaking the truth.

She felt that they were. There seemed to be little advantage in lying. Even if the humans sought to steal the ship, they would be unsuccessful. They were only four in number after all, and they did not have the blessing of Horus upon them.

"We just need to find out from Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c what condition the engines are in," Jonas said.

Carter looked at the device upon her wrist. "They should be back up here any time," she said.

"If the engines are broken, can you repair them?" Marshak asked.

Carter glanced over at Jonas. "Maybe," she said. "I don't have as much experience with the engines as I do the computer core. I won't know until I can see them."

"That is a fair assessment," Marshak said. "As we wait, I wish to extend to you an invitation to join us for a feast."

"Really?" Jonas asked, his voice enthusiastic.

"Marshak, that's not necessary," Carter said.

"I must insist," Marshak said. "You and your people have given us a great gift."

"We don't even know if we have accomplished anything," she said.

"You have given us hope and perhaps the means to maintain our ownership of our Temple, as well as the potential to understand all its wonders and mysteries. That is more than enough to warrant a feast," he insisted.

"We'll need to talk to Colonel O'Neill," Carter said. "Once he and Teal'c return."

Marshak nodded. "I shall await your response." He turned to Lyta. "Bretan will bring Colonel O'Neill and Teal'c here. Inform me when they arrive."

"I shall," Lyta promised. Her leader left the room and Lyta turned her attention back to the humans, smiling as the two of them returned to their task.

Jack stared across the laden table, his mind overwhelmed with the amount of food. It was obvious that the Followers of Horus had pulled out all the stops in their celebratory banquet.

"Carter?" Jack glanced at his second who was seated across the table. Teal'c sat beside her and Jonas sat beside Jack.

She shrugged slightly. "The Prometheus' crew has been eating the local food for the past few months. It should be safe for us," she said softly. Eating the local cuisine was a risk that every SG team faced. And one that most of them avoided by sticking to their rations.

Unfortunately, there were situations like this one where there was simply no graceful way to get out of it. Not that Jack really minded. He could handle a good feast just as well as the next man. But he'd be lying if he didn't say that he wouldn't be more comfortable eating in the Prometheus' mess.

Now that he'd thoroughly wrapped his mind around the fact that the Hatak ship was indeed buried, he couldn't avoid the sense of claustrophobia he now felt. He was painfully aware that he and his team were in a very vulnerable position. The ship being buried meant that their escape routes were few. They were also massively outnumbered. Even if the Followers had limited weapons, they had the advantage of numbers and could probably overwhelm them quite easily.

Which meant that it was definitely in their best interests not to tick off their hosts. But Jack also knew that he couldn't guarantee that. He couldn't know if the Followers would handle it if they couldn't fix what the Followers wanted them to fix.

Noticing that his team was waiting, Jack nodded, giving them permission to eat. He wasn't too worried about Teal'c. The Jaffa's metabolism could handle pretty much anything. And he trusted Sam to restrain herself and not eat too much. Jonas was his current concern. The Kelownan's appetite and zeal for trying new things was rather legendary, which was why he was currently seated next to Jack.

Marshak Anon was at the head of the table, Bretan and Lyta at his side. Jack knew that the pair of them had likely reported back to Marshak, which was precisely why they'd been assigned as escorts.

"What do you think?" Jack asked Sam, keeping his voice low. The four of them were seated at a communal table but the spaces closest to them were empty, almost as if, while they were included in the group, they weren't really part of it.

"It tastes like chicken," Sam said, picking up a piece of meat and grinning at him.

"Haha," Jack scoffed.

"The core is gone," she said. "We can fix bits and pieces of it and get some of the systems running. But it will never be a fully functioning core."

"It all depends on the engines," Jonas said, picking up some green vegetables with his fork.

Jack nodded, cautiously eating a piece of the meat. Carter was right, it did taste like chicken. "Teal'c thinks they're salvageable."

"We can look at it tomorrow," Sam said. "Until we have power, puttering in the core is pretty much a waste of time."

"So, tomorrow," Jack said.

"Yeah," Sam nodded. "Marshak's given us rooms here, presuming that we want to stay here and not travel back to Prometheus for the night."

Jack frowned. This was the first he'd heard of it. "Staying here?"

Jonas nodded, swallowing to clear his mouth so that he could speak. "There are a couple of staterooms that we can have. They're in the upper levels."

"I can't say that I'm too crazy about it," Jack said, frowning a bit.

"It would save us a lot of time," Sam said. "We could get on the engines first thing in the morning and, depending on the damage, see if we can get them online in a day or two."

"What about..." Jack raised his eyebrows, not wanting to vocalize their primary mission.

Sam shook her head. "Maybe. Huge chunks of the core have been damaged, but maybe if we can get some more power going to it we can get more systems online and see what's left."

"So we can't do one without the other?"

Sam nodded. "Right."

"I can assist Major Carter," Teal'c offered.

"I think we'll all go down," Jack said. He glanced over at Teal'c. "The engine room definitely qualifies as a creepy basement. I don't want anyone going down alone. And I don't want anyone going down unarmed."

"Sir?"

"T and I found something," Jack said.

"The corpse of a Jaffa."

Sam shook her head. "I'd be surprised if there weren't bodies around."

"Bodies sure, but not Jaffa with holes ripped in their armor." Sam raised her eyebrows.

"Holes?" Jonas asked.

"The Jaffa's armor was rent asunder," Teal'c said. "The resulting injury was likely a fatal one."

"We know that there was probably a battle," Sam said.

"This wasn't battle damage," Jack said.

"What are you suggesting, sir?"

Jack shook his head. "I'm not sure. I just know that I don't want anyone roaming alone." Jonas glanced over at him. "Even ignoring any fantastical explanation, this place has still been buried and abandoned for a few hundred years. I'd be surprised if there weren't booby traps or other nasty surprises."

Sam shrugged. "The more hands we have the faster it might go," she said.

A shadow fell across Jack's plate and he looked up, catching sight of a young girl holding a jug of what he guessed to be wine. He shook his head. "We'll stay with water, thanks," he dismissed. She nodded and continued working her way down the table. "And we'll stay here tonight," Jack said. "But one stateroom and we're keeping watches."

He looked at the people gathered around the long tables. As the dinner progressed, the wine flowed and people relaxed. They chatted and smiled, their happiness at being in their 'temple' obvious. It kind of reminded him of their dinner at Abydos, sans giant armadillo. It was a community celebrating.

But under it all, something made his skin crawl. He didn't think it was the mangled corpse in the engine room that had him spooked. It was far from the first violent death he'd seen. And probably wouldn't be the last. There was something else here. Something that left him unsettled and uneasy. Something that had the little voice in his head strongly urging that they get the hell out of here, mission or no mission.

The problem was, his little voice was a jumpy little thing. And if he listened to it every single time it got edgy, he'd never get out of bed in the morning. Banishing his paranoia, Jack turned his attention back to his dinner. With any luck, they'd have the engines fixed and be on their way in a couple days.


/////



Jonas yawned and stretched, raising his arms over his head. Unfortunately, the movement did little to banish the drowsiness clawing at the back of his brain, so he got to his feet and slowly paced the room. He was in the small common room of their suite. The room stood between the two bedrooms and the hall so it was the perfect place to keep watch.

Jonas didn't mind it all that much and considered losing a few hours sleep to be more than a fair trade for the extra time they'd gain to work on fixing the engines.

The ship was quiet, the few sounds of the Followers barely filtered through the closed doors. Their quarters were nowhere near as nice as those on the Prometheus. The Hatak ship had no running water and the air circulation was sluggish at best. But Jonas also knew that the Followers had given them the best that they possessed.

Each of the bedrooms had a set of stacked beds that Sam called bunk beds. The main room was simply furnished with a low table and several unupholstered chairs. The walls and floors were bare and flickering candles provided the only illumination. Jonas continued pacing. He was oddly edgy and found that he longed to leave the room and get back to work.

He was used to long hours. The diurnal cycle of Kelowna was far different from Earth's so he was used to and only really needed four to five hours of sleep a night. Even after almost a year on Earth, he still could not convince his body to need and accept the humans' longer sleep cycle. Because of this, he often found himself spending nights awake and alone, occupying himself with study of some sort. He scratched his head, his fingers exploring the still unfamiliar stubble left from his surgery.

Jonas remembered those days, seeing the future. Knowing that Sam was coming to his office, that the goa'uld were on the planet. He remembered the feeling, the odd sense of disassociation that would come with his visions. First, a sense of wonder, then a sense of dread as he realized that nothing he could do to change the future. No matter how hard he tried, how much he worked and fought, he could not make the visions clear or make the others believe him.

He was reminded of that frustration when he and Sam had worked in the core today. He hadn't minded the tediousness of the work. He'd spent his life in what some would call boring research and learning. It was the sheer scope of the project that had worn upon him. Resurrecting a Hatak ship was no small task. It would be hard enough to accomplish with all the resources of the SGC behind them, and he and Sam had only themselves, and whatever Followers they could train.

At least the ship would never fly and they would not have to consider teaching the Followers how to operate it in space. Not that they'd keep it too long. Jonas knew full well that the Followers would probably lose their ship to the first System Lord they came across. If they weren't killed in the process.


Jonas had no doubt that there were those among the Denialists and the Revolutionaries that wanted nothing more than to get their hands on the ship. And he also knew that they'd have no issue using force. He wished that he could see a solution to the issue but he just couldn't, not a peaceful one anyway.

He knew that - now that they possessed proof of their beliefs - the Followers would die to keep it. Just as - he felt - the Denialists would die to make it go away.

Members of Ashwan's group, while they may appear nicer on the surface, were just as likely to be trouble, wanting to control the Hatak if for no other reason than to keep anyone else from having it.

It reminded him too much of home, of the ancient rancor and hate that dominated his planet. How the three warring factions, the Kelownan, Andari and Tirani had been feuding for so long that none of them even remembered what the feud was about. The mistrust was so deep and pervasive that he doubted that it would ever be overcome.

Part of him wanted to help the Followers. He wanted them to keep their ship and finally have the chance to come out of the shadows and live in the open. It had to have been horrible for them to live so long under such persecution. To want to worship but to be afraid of being caught, to live in perpetual fear of being discovered.

But his sympathy was tempered by the iron will he'd seen amongst some of the Followers. Some were simply enjoying their vindication, but others were a bit more overt with their celebrations. Overt enough to be creating enemies and making things worse. Maybe the Denialists had a point. Maybe it would be best if the ship was cordoned off and destroyed. Maybe if they didn't have anything to fight over the three factions on Tagrea would find some sort of peace.

Or maybe they'd just find something else. Even if every single person on the planet got to see the Hatak ship, the Denialists would just work to discredit it. And the Followers would just fight all the much harder to be believed.

If anything, the violence would probably just get worse.

He couldn't even see a good way out if the Revolutionaries got control of the ship or sided with the Followers. The two groups shared the zeal for exploration and understanding their past, but Jonas feared that they'd eventually grow tired of the Denialists and their attempts to destroy the past. The only outcome he could see - unless most of the Tagrean people underwent a drastic change of attitude - was civil war...something that would only result in them all being losers.

Jonas heard a sound outside the door and stopped his pacing, cocking his head to hear better. He hadn't heard many noises out in the hall, it was almost as if the Followers were avoiding them. Jonas took a step forward, ready to open the door and check out the sound when the door opened. Before he could fully comprehend what was happening, two dozen figures spilled into the room. Three of them moved towards him and Jonas called out, striving to warn his team. He was knocked to the ground, his struggles resulting in little more than bruises. He pushed one of his assailants off but it was just replaced by another.

The previously quiet room was now full of yells and shouts as the rest of his team fought. The light flared on and Jonas blinked, wincing against the pain of the sudden illumination. He heard the Colonel shouting, yelling curses that Jonas knew were not normally acceptable in the presence of others. His shouts abruptly stopped and Jonas was dragged to his feet, his arms pinned painfully behind his back. As he watched, Colonel O'Neill was dragged from his room, his head lolling limply. He was dropped to the deck as Sam and Teal'c were pulled into the common room. Four men restrained Teal'c but Jonas thought that the only thing that kept him from fighting was the three that were holding Sam, one of those holding a knife to Sam's throat.

"What the hell is going on!" Sam demanded, her eyes glittering angrily. She seemed oblivious to the knife at her throat but Jonas knew differently. She was aware, just as she was aware that Colonel O'Neill was incapacitated. Jonas saw her eyes flit over to their leader, then back to their captors.

"We do not need unbelievers here," Bretan said, striding into the room. He glanced around, his gaze lingering on the Colonel before he turned his attention to Sam.

"We were invited," Sam said.

"Marshak Anon guaranteed our protection," Teal'c said.

"Marshak does not speak for us all," Bretan said. He nodded towards Colonel O'Neill. "This man continually disparages our Temple. We do not need him here."

"O'Neill merely spoke the truth. This is indeed a ship," Teal'c said.

"There's no rule saying that it can't be both," Jonas said.

Bretan glared at him and then stalked over to Sam, standing close in front of her. "By the hour more troops surround our Temple. The time of testing will soon arrive. If we are to survive, we must not have any non-believers amongst us."

"Fine. We'll all go," Sam said.

Bretan shook his head. "We need you to repair the damage done to the temple."

"Threatening violence upon our persons is not conducive to enticing our support," Teal'c said, his voice calm but his tone deadly.

Bretan smiled. He looked at them again, his eyes lingering on the Colonel's unconscious form. "You three will remain and this creature will be dumped in the desert. A fate truly befitting the unbelievers."

"What makes you think that we believe?" Sam asked.

Alarm flashed through Jonas' brain. If Bretan was right and troops really were circling the Hatak, they were most likely Denialists. And there was no love lost between Colonel O'Neill and those led by Kalfas. He might be okay and might be rescued by them. Or he might not be. His safety rested solely on the Denialists recognizing him as being from Earth and refraining from hurting him. That was presuming that he didn't fall afoul of the desert itself.

"The signs are unmistakable. You have both been touched by the Gods," Bretan said. He looked over his shoulder at two of his people. "Take him outside," he ordered.

"Get rid of Jonas too," Sam said. Jonas looked up, caught off guard by the cold tone of her voice. Much to his surprise, Sam was staring right at him.

"What?"

Sam stared Bretan in the eyes. "You want to get rid of the unbelievers, you need to get rid of him too." She glanced over at Jonas. "Our car should still there. Let Jonas get the Colonel and they'll leave." She looked over at Teal'c. "The two of us can work on getting your ship working."

"Major," Jonas protested.

"Major Carter is correct," Teal'c said. "Jonas Quinn does not believe that this is a temple."

Bretan turned, moving to stand in front of Jonas. Jonas looked the man in the eyes, refusing to look away. "Do you believe?" Bretan asked.

Jonas stared at him for a bit longer, not daring to look at Sam and Teal'c. What were they doing? Why were they trying to split them up and get him out of the Hatak? Unless... "No," he said, praying that he was making the right decision.

Bretan's eye's narrowed and his jaw clenched. "Remove these two creatures from our temple," he ordered.

The men holding him tightened their grip, pulling Jonas from the room. "Get your ass back to the Prometheus," he heard Sam call. Jonas looked over his shoulder, ascertaining that they were bringing Colonel O'Neill before he stopped resisting and allowed them to lead him through the maze of corridors and outside into the chill night.

They let him go with a fierce shove that threw him off balance. Jonas landed on his hands and knees and picked himself up from the dirt to watch the Followers lay Colonel O'Neill down before they retreated back inside the ship.

Jonas didn't try to contact or talk to them, instead he remained where he was until they'd retreated back into the ship. He made his way over to the Colonel, checking the man's pulse just like Sam had taught him to do. Relieved to find it steady, Jonas looked around, trying to get his bearings. Recognizing the outcropping of rocks near the car Jonas looked down at the Colonel and then back at where the car was, trying to decide what to do. Realizing that he couldn't leave the helpless man alone, Jonas bent over and picked him up, mimicking the fireman's carry that he'd seen on television.

"I'm glad we didn't park very far away," he grunted, beginning a slow and steady march towards the car. "I just wish Sam had left me the keys."


/////


"You had no right to commit such an act!" Marshak roared. To his dismay, Bretan did not lower his eyes or seem repentant. If anything, he seemed emboldened by his act.

"They are Unbelievers," Bretan said. "We did not need them here."

"They were going to assist us in reclaiming our temple," Marshak said.

"And they will," Bretan said. "Major Carter and Teal'c are all the assistance we require."
He moved forward and lowered his voice. "Did you not see it? They have been touched by the Gods," he said.

Marshak shook his head. "How have they been touched?"

"Teal'c is like one that the old tales speak of, a loyal warrior to the Gods."

"He is called a Jaffa," Marshak said. "One that has denounced his God."

"He is still touched," Bretan insisted.

"And Major Carter?" Marshak asked, surrendering to the inevitability of Bretan's actions. They could not be undone. It was clear to him that Bretan's faith was not as unwavering as Marshak had believed.

"Lyta saw the mark," Bretan said, gesturing towards the back of his neck. "She has been touched herself. The two of them are all that we need to reclaim our temple."

"I hope that you are correct," Marshak said. "For if you are not, and this temple falls, I shall place you upon the first line of defenders."


/////


Teal'c watched as Major Carter tied her boots, her mood evident in the way she pulled on the laces. It was indeed fortunate that the material was durable and strong, he thought as she tugged and twisted the braided strings. Material of a lesser quality would sure give way under the pressure and he knew that would not improve her mood.

The two of them were alone in the room, however he knew that at least two guards stood outside.

"I am sure that O'Neill's condition is not serious," he said, attempting to defuse her mood.

She looked up at him, frowning. "What? Oh, he's probably okay. The Colonel's got a hard head. Jonas should have him halfway to Prometheus by now anyway."

Teal'c nodded, pleased that he had accurately divined her reason for decrying Jonas Quinn as an unbeliever. "Jonas Quinn will be able to more accurately report our circumstances than O'Neill."

"Yeah." She stood up. "And if we have to break out of this place you and I stand a better chance of surviving a trek across the desert than he does."

"If Bretan's allegations are correct, our trek might be very short."

"I trust Kalfas about as far as I can throw him," she said. "I don't think he's above holding us for ransom or making us 'go away'." She made quote gestures with her fingers, nonverbally explaining her euphemism.

"Your plan of action?"

She looked over at him and opened her mouth to speak, changing her mind when they heard voices outside the door. "I'm gonna make it up as I go along," she said softly, moving to stand at his side.

The two of them presented a united front as Marshak walked into the room. "You are unharmed?" he asked.

"No thanks to your goons," Major Carter said, crossing her arms over her chest.

Marshak glanced over his shoulder and closed the door, granting them a bit of privacy. "I apologize," he said. "Bretan's actions were not enacted with my blessing."

"Then you'll let us go," Carter said.

Marshak shook his head. "This I cannot do. Bretan has much support amongst my people."

"But you are the leader," Teal'c said.

"I am the leader of a people who have been persecuted, hunted and murdered for generations." He gestured around him. "This ship is their first opportunity for freedom. It is not an opportunity they will surrender easily."

"We were already helping you," Major Carter said. "There was no need to attack us."

"You are correct. There was not," Marshak said.

"Then why?" Major Carter demanded.

"Surely after centuries of persecution, O'Neill's comments were not that insulting," Teal'c said.

"What exactly is this whole 'touched by the gods' thing?" Major Carter asked, abruptly changing the topic.

Marshak looked at them. "He is Jaffa," he said, his tone matter of fact.

"Yeah, so?" she challenged.

"And, unless Lyta was mistaken, the scar on the back of your neck is that of a host."

Major Carter's hand strayed up to the scar left upon her body by the goa'uld briefly possessed her in Steveston, Oregon. "What do you know of hosts? I thought your people saw the Goa'ulds as gods."

Marshak smiled slightly. "My people may. But there are those of us that know the truth. Those of us descended from Horus' most loyal Lotars. We know of the true nature of the goa'uld. Know what they are, what they can be."

"Why do you not inform your followers of the truth?" Teal'c asked.

"And divide our beleaguered few even further? Let civil disputes tear us apart? We felt that, to survive, we had to be unified."

"Even if that unification is built on a lie?" Major Carter asked.

"Discord amongst us would have destroyed us more surely than anything the Revolutionaries or Denialists could do."

"What are you going to do when the truth comes out?" Major Carter asked. "And it will eventually come out. Hell, this ship is a billion ton example of the truth. Just the fact that Bretan and Lyta know what Jaffa and hosts are is enough proof."

"All they know is that Jaffa serve the gods and that those who bear a mark as you do are blessed by the gods," Marshak replied.

"And that gives them the right to keep us here against our will?" she asked.

"If I allow you to leave, Bretan will use that to usurp me. And while his passion is strong, his leadership skills are not."

"You are afraid that if Bretan takes command he will lead the Followers poorly," Teal'c said.

"Bretan will allow his passion to override his sensibilities and will make bad choices," Marshak said. "I cannot risk the lives of my people in such a manner."

"So you're going to keep us here," Major Carter said.

"I apologize for Bretan's actions and I sincerely hope that Colonel O'Neill was not harmed too severely. However, I have no choice but to ask you to continue your work and assist us in repairing this ship."

"And if we refuse?" she challenged.

"That would not be wise. Bretan did not exaggerate when he said that Denialists troops have surrounded our ship. It is only a matter of time before they attack. And when they do, you shall be here, the same as us. And if they overpower my people and invade this ship, I doubt that they will take the time to discern off-worlders from Followers."

He looked at both of them, the pleasant expression fading from his face. "You shall remain here until our ship is repaired. If you do not assist us, it will merely take longer." He shrugged. "And if you being here keeps the Denialists from attacking, then that is all the better. Remain in this room and you shall not be harmed. We will bring you food and do what we can to make your stay as...civilized as possible."

Marshak turned on his heel and left the room. Teal'c saw him pause to speak to the guards as the door shut. "That went well," Major Carter said, flopping down upon one of the chairs.

"Perhaps next time we shall create a plan of action before we speak to our captors," Teal'c said, ignoring the glare she sent his way.

"What the HELL did you think you were doing?" Jack demanded, batting aside Doctor Read's hand as the man attempted to clean the laceration on his skull. Other than a few bruises, it was the worst of Jack's injuries - excepting his pride of course.

"You needed medical attention. This was the only place to get it," Jonas said, shifting uncomfortably.

"He's got a point, Jack," Ronson said, standing with his back to the bulkhead of the infirmary. "You were dead to the world when he got you here."

"You don't leave people behind," Jack said, clinging to his anger.

"I didn't," Jonas said. "I was following orders."

"I don't recall ordering you to drag me back here."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Colonel. Didn't you once tell me that if something happened to you, Major Carter was in command. You were unconscious, she told me to, and I quote, 'get your ass back to Prometheus'." Jonas shrugged. "I was just doing what she told me to do."

Jack sighed, realizing that his anger was misplaced. "She actually said ass?" he asked, giving Jonas the only apology he could at the moment. Jonas nodded. "Well, she's pissed. That's good for our side." He looked to Jonas. "Were they okay?"

"They were both fine," Jonas said. "I don't think the Followers want to hurt them."

"Like they didn't hurt him?" Doctor Read asked, dabbing a small amount of antibiotic ointment on the cut. "You'll be fine, sir," he said. "I'll get you something for the headache you don't want to admit that you have. And since I doubt this is the first time you've been hit on the head, I'm sure you're well versed on the signs of impending brain damage and death. So I'll spare you." He took a step back and pulled off his gloves. "You're free to go. Colonel." He acknowledged Ronson and then left the infirmary, retreating into his office.

Jack looked over to Ronson. "He's got a little attitude."

"He keeps things lively," Ronson said. "And tell me that he's not right." Jack shrugged.

"What's your plan?"

"How close are you to having this ship ready to fly?" Jack asked, abandoning the banter.

Ronson shook his head. "Another week at least. The pieces of the hyper drive are coming through at a good pace. Detouring around the troop buildup is taking a bit longer, but as of yet, no one has harassed us. We just evac'd Major Gant back to Earth and more crew will come through tomorrow."

"They're Denialists, right?" Jonas asked. Ronson nodded. "Then they have no reason to molest them. They want you gone as much as you want to be gone."

"Regardless of that, we can't risk losing this ship to a civil war," Jack said. "They decide to cut off the gate, we're screwed."

"The last of the parts are supposed to come through in two days," Ronson said. "Two days after that, we can have this ship space worthy."

"You said a week?"

"We still have the sub light engines. We can get off the planet and out of the range of their weapons and finish the repairs in space," Ronson said.

"You're risking a forty year trip to the nearest gate if someone forgot to pack the right spark plug," Jack warned.

"The longer we wait here, the longer your team is captive," Ronson said. "Besides, if you rescue Carter and Teal'c, we'll have two more people to work on getting the hyper drive online."

Jack nodded, not liking that his people were going to be in danger for such a lengthy period of time, but unable to think of any other options. If he had his way, the Prometheus would be firing up its engines right now and ready to take on the Hatak ship. He'd grab any of the techs that could handle weapons and use them to storm the ship and get his people back.

Of course, that plan was the stuff of drunken fantasies and boyhood dreams. He couldn't risk the safety of the Prometheus' crew and the ship itself to rescue two people, even if they were the last remaining members of his team...original members he amended, glancing over at Jonas.

"We want to go on the next run to the gate," Jack said. "Do a little scouting."

Ronson nodded. "I can arrange that."

Jack hopped off the bed, looking down as his feet hit the floor. "And boots," he said, wiggling his sock clad toes. "I think I'm gonna need to scare up another pair of boots."


/////



Tarek held the artifact up to study it closer, turning it over in his hands. He made a few notations in his book before carefully setting it down on a table.

He took a moment, indulging himself in feasting his eyes upon the riches before him. Once word had spread about his presence, many of the Followers had brought him item after item. Things they'd discovered as they explored the temple. Many of the items did not belong to Horus. They had been discovered in what was described as barracks rooms, so Tarek believed that they'd belonged to Horus' warriors, people like Teal'c.

Thinking of the visitor, Tarek paused. They would understand these artifacts, perhaps better than he did. He was aware of what had transpired and that Colonel O'Neill and Jonas were no longer in the temple. He did not agree with what Bretan had done, yet he was in no position to voice his opinions. He was but a humble scholar and knew that Bretan could do the same to him if he desired.

He knew that he could ask Marshak for protection, and Marshak might grant it. Yet he also knew that Marshak feared truly testing the loyalty of the Followers. He abhorred violence and also knew that, if they began to fight amongst themselves, they would be facilitating their own destruction.

"Master."

Tarek turned, smiling as Kresha peered around the door jam. "Come in," he invited. "Please."

She walked in, her pace slowing as she stared at their surroundings. "This is our Lord's chamber," she said softly, her voice full of reverence.

"Yes," Tarek confirmed, remembering his own feeling of wonder. His eyes settled upon the burden she carried in her hand. "You have discovered something?"

"Yes," she said, holding it up. "We were exploring another room on the lower levels and we found this."

Tarek motioned and she set it down on an empty part of a table. It was a medium sized dark colored wooden box, a bit larger than one of his many books. The surface was covered with intricate carvings and decorations. "It is a box," he said needlessly.

Kresha nodded. "Yet it is a puzzle. It will not open."

Tarek picked it up, holding it in his hands. He turned it over, searching for a seam and found none. "What can you tell me about where you found this?" he asked, wondering if perhaps this was yet another artifact from the Horus' Jaffa.

"It is a strange room," she said. "There are tables and beds, yet it is not a barracks." She frowned. "If I were to compare it to something with which I am familiar, I would compare it to a medical complex."

"Really?"

Kresha nodded, her long dark blonde hair falling over her shoulder. "That is what it makes me think of. It was tucked away in a corner, almost as it had been forgotten."

"Were there any other artifacts?"

She shook her head. "Nothing of any note. Debris and detris. That box was the only interesting item."

"I have never seen its like," Tarek said. He pointed out some of the carvings. "I believe that this box did belong to Horus. This is his symbol. Yet I do not know why it was not here, in our Lord's chambers."

"Perhaps the answer is within the box," she said.

Tarek shook it carefully, frowning as he heard something move within. She was correct. Something was in there. But he could find no way to gain access to it. "But how to attain the answer without destroying the vessel?"

"You know of all things pertaining to our Lord," Kresha said. "Surely you can divine a way to open it."

Tarek smiled, flattered by her sincere faith. "I do know much of our Lord, however..." he trailed off, an idea occurring to him. "To the best of my knowledge, I am the foremost expert on Tagrea. Yet, I know of others who know more."

"The visitors?" Kresha asked. "Bretan has commanded-"

"Bretan is not the leader of our group," Tarek interrupted. "I have known these visitors for many weeks. They are honorable people." He gathered up the box and directed Kresha to hand him a few other objects that he balanced carefully on top of it. "Please," he said, looking Kresha in the eyes. "It would be best if I went alone and best if you told no one what I was doing."

"Can I remain?" she asked. She looked around the chamber. "I have never seen such beautiful things."

Tarek smiled. "You may look at all you wish," he said. He glanced at the tables covered with artifacts. "These are symbols of our Lord. They are for all to share."

He left the room and slowly made his way down the corridors towards where the visitors were staying. Nodding at the guards, he recognized them as two of Marshak's most trusted men. He rapped gently on the door and waited for Teal'c and Major Carter to acknowledge him, hoping that they were not so offended so as not to wish to speak to him.

The door opened and Tarek smiled, pleased to see that Major Carter looked well and unharmed. "Tarek?" She frowned and looked past him. "What are you doing here?"

"I seek your counsel," Tarek said, holding up the artifacts. "Can you assist me?"

Major Carter looked over her shoulder then stepped back. "Sure, why not."

Tarek stepped into the room and made his way over to the low table that stood at its center. Teal'c cleared away some odd slips of paper and Tarek set the box down. "I have been working to catalog artifacts found in our Lord's private chamber," he explained.
"Many of the items I have seen before, but some I cannot understand. I wish to ask your assistance."

Teal'c leaned forward and picked up one of the items as Major Carter joined them, sitting down in one of the chairs. "Teal'c?" she asked. "Do you recognize any of this stuff?"

"Some," he replied.

"This one's easy," Carter said, holding up an odd device. It looked like a ribbon of gold, twisted into a spiral that ended with five dangling thimbles. "It's a weapon," she explained to Tarek. "Something only a goa'uld can use."

"This is a Jaffa grooming device," Teal'c said, holding up a small tubular device with what looked to be small blades on the end.

"I'm afraid to ask," Carter said. "What's in the box?"

"That is the largest mystery," Tarek said. "There is something in there, yet I cannot discern a way to access it."

Carter picked it up. "It looks like a puzzle box."

"I am not familiar with that term," Tarek said.

"Daniel had one," she said, glancing at Teal'c. "Basically the box is made in such a way that you have to know the secret to get it to open. You have to solve the puzzle, hence the name."

"And you can solve this puzzle?" Tarek asked.

Carter shrugged. "Maybe."

"Tarek Solomon," Teal'c said. "Perhaps while Major Carter applies herself to this box, I can assist you with these other devices."


/////


Sam fiddled with the box, glancing at Teal'c out of the corner of her eye. "If I just had my lock picks," she said, setting it down.

"You have discovered a locking mechanism?" Teal'c asked, looking over at her as he set aside the small statue he was studying.

"No. But maybe I can pry something apart." She glanced up as the door opened and Tarek walked in, burdened with other artifacts. This was the second such trip he'd made back to Horus' chamber. To honor Marshak's declaration, neither Sam or Teal'c attempted to leave their room, instead Tarek ferried items back and forth. Between her and Teal'c they'd identified many of the items although the only ones Sam considered remotely useful was the ribbon weapon and a couple of knives.

"I wonder if they have a hacksaw around here," she said softly, abandoning the box to help Tarek set down all the items he was carrying.

"Hacksaw?" Tarek asked.

"Major Carter was contemplating the use of force in gaining access to the box," Teal'c said.

"No," Tarek said, horrified. "You cannot defile Horus' box."

"Don't worry," Sam said, raising her hand. "I was only kidding." She glared at Teal'c. "Mostly," she mouthed.

"It must be a great secret indeed if our Lord Horus guarded it so well."

"Must be," Sam said, retaking her seat. "You know, if we could get it back to Prometheus, they have a portable X-ray in the sickbay. We could at least find out what's in it."

Tarek shook his head. "We do not dare to leave the temple."

"We wouldn't take it with us," Sam said. "Not off world. You could even go with us to Prometheus."

"I do not speak of that. It is not safe to leave the temple."

"Why not?" Teal'c asked. Sam could see a faint expression of alarm flash across his face.

"The Denialists have surrounded the temple. We do not dare leave, especially with an artifact. They would destroy it on sight."

"We're surrounded?" Sam asked.

Tarek nodded. "Marshak fears that they wish to destroy our temple. He has instructed Followers to keep guard."

Sam looked at Teal'c, wishing that they were alone. This information changed things. Up until this point, she and Teal'c had just been biding their time. She knew that Marshak wouldn't keep them forever, and even if they tried, the Colonel wouldn't let it happen. But Sam also knew that there were bigger issues, namely the Prometheus and its crew. She still had hopes that they could arrive at a diplomatic solution of some sorts.

Because of this, they were waiting for word from the Colonel and some guidance as to what to do. But, if Tarek was right, they may not have that luxury much longer.

"Then perhaps, we should no longer tarry," Teal'c said, reaching forward to pick up the box. He turned it over in his hands and studied it for a few seconds before stretching his fingers and pressing the box in three separate areas. Sam heard a small pop and stared as the box opened and a small drawer slid out.

"How'd you do that?" Sam asked.

"You have solved the riddle of Hours?" Tarek said.

"Apophis had one such box," he said, picking a few sheets of parchment out of the drawer.

"And you didn't think this was worth mentioning a few hours ago?" she asked.

Teal'c smiled slightly and looked up at her. "We had no time constraints and you sought a means to alleviate your boredom. I saw no reason to deprive you of that."

Sam smiled, saying nothing but silently promising payback. "What's on the parchment?" she asked.

Teal'c shook his head. "It is a dialect with which I am only vaguely familiar."

Tarek took one of the parchments. "I have found many pieces of parchment, but none intact," he said.

"Can you read it?" Sam asked.

"With time, I believe so."

"Cool." She got up and grabbed the deck of cards Teal'c had put away when Tarek had first entered the room. "Translate your little hearts out. I'm gonna go take a nap." She retreated into her room and plopped down on the bunk. Within a few moments she was asleep, unbothered by the muttering voices just outside.


/////


Two dice rattled in a cup, clattering dully against each other. The sound abruptly stopped, only to be replaced by an annoying mixture of shouts and groans.

Kersa Stilon sighed heavily and opened his eyes, gritting his teeth at the sight of the flickering shadows on the tent wall. "Do they never sleep?" he growled, sitting up and swinging his legs over the side of the cot.

He heard wagers being made, then the clatter of the dice, again accompanied by the cheers and jeers of the winners and losers.

Growling with frustration, he surged to his feet and stalked out of his tent, barely missing tripping over two men, sitting quietly and playing a board game. He made his way through the scattered tents and fires and retreated into the cool quiet of the desert night.

"Cursed Zealots," he muttered, finding a large rock to sit on, just barely within sight of the camp. It was their fault that he was here, trapped in this miserable place. Their fault that his fields were going untended. Their fault that his crops were wasting. "Stupid religious fanatics," he said, picking up a small stone and throwing it petulantly into the night.

He missed his wife and he missed his home. And he resented that the selfishness of a few had so disrupted his life. His leaders were fools to be so accommodating to the Zealots. They should not be waiting here, catering to the Zealots' every whim. They should be storming that ship, or, better yet, destroying the cursed thing.

"You are breaking protocol."

Kersa turned, relaxing when he recognized his friend, Talmage Ahlon. Talmage's farm adjoined Kersa's own and the two men often worked together.

"So are the gamblers," Kersa said, moving over to allow his friend to sit on the rock.

"True. But they have not left the safety of the encampment."

"Safety," Kersa snorted. "What are we supposed to be safe from? Sand fleas?"

Talmage chuckled. "I do not understand the reason for the bother. If the Zealots wish to live in this forsaken wasteland, I say let them."

Kersa looked over at his friend. "That ship should be destroyed," he said. "It is a dangerous piece of nostalgia and has no place here."

"They will not leave it."

"Then they should be destroyed with it," Kersa declared.

"You would murder them?"

"They would murder us."

Talmage slowly shook his head. "I do not agree," he said. "I have known some among the Followers of Horus and none of them have ever threatened violence. In fact, most just wish to be left alone."

"So that no one can witness their rituals."

"Rituals? I know of no rituals."

"Because they do not wish you to," Kersa said, shaking his head.

"I have heard of the tales my whole life. Murders and sacrifices. People turned into animals and beasts. Children taken from their homes."

Talmage slowly shook his head. "Those tales are nothing more than foolishness. Made up by those that fear what they do not understand."

Kersa frowned, taken aback by his friend's words. If he did not know differently, he would swear that his friend was a Zealot sympathizer. "Or perhaps tales dismissed by those that fear the truth," he said, getting to his feet.

"Kersa?"

"You are one of them," Kersa said, giving into his fear. He had been warned, they had all been warned that they needed to be on their guard, alert for any subversives. That the Zealots would try to undermine their cause, to destroy them from within. He had been warned, but it was one warning that he had never expected to see brought to life.

"One of what?" Talmage asked, getting to his feet.

"Kalfas warned about you, about your people."

"My people? Kersa, YOU are my people."

Kersa shook his head, frustration and fear fueling his paranoia. "You sympathize with them. You believe in them. You believe in the monster."

"Horus was not a monster."

"So you do believe!"

"I believe what the humans have told us," Talmage said, ignoring his interruption. "He was no monster, he was a parasite inside a human host. He enslaved and murdered our ancestors. We eventually won our freedom, but it came at a very high price."

"How can you believe the off-worlders?" Kersa asked. "They were not here. They cannot know our past."

"I have spoken to some of them," Talmage said. "They are strangers but they are sincere."

"They are the reason we are here," Kersa said. "They insisted upon searching for the ring. They dug up secrets we'd buried. They are why the Zealots are out here. Why we must now fight for our freedom!" Kersa raised his voice, not caring if anyone else heard.

"I do not deny that their presence initiated the change, but Kersa, they just wanted to go home."

"Have you forgotten that they attacked our planet?"

"An accident - one that they explained."

"A lie that we believed," Kersa countered.

Talmage threw his hands up in the air and growled with frustration. "You will not listen to reason."

"I will not listen to lies!"

Talmage glared at him for a few seconds, his eyes sharp and appraising. "The Zealots in that ship are not the ones we must fear," he said, the anger absent from his voice. He sighed and glanced around. "I am returning to the encampment. It would be best if you did too. The desert is not safe."

He turned on his heel and walked away from Kersa, leaving him alone. Kersa plopped back down on the rock, scarcely believing what had just happened. He thought he knew Talmage, thought that the man was his friend. Instead he was nothing more than a Zealot sympathizer. He needed to warn people, to let Kalfas know that they had an enemy amongst them. Talmage needed to be stopped, sent home before he could compromise them any further.

A scream cut through the stillness of the night and Kersa shot to his feet, his heart pounding in his chest. "Talmage," he muttered, his irritation forgotten as he hurried forward. He regretted that he'd broken protocol and left the camp, not only unarmed but also without a light source. "Talmage!" he called out, fear supplanting his training. "Talmage!"

He heard a sound and he paused, locating it before he moved forward. After a short distance, he stopped, staring in horror as he made out a large dark stain in the sandy soil. The blood trailed off into the distance and Kersa followed it, his eyes settling upon the cave hiding the Zealot ship.

Jack climbed down from the vehicle, pausing to stretch and pop his back. Around him, Ronson's crew clambered out of their vehicles, falling into an organized pattern. Sergeant Stark, Ronson's chief engineer, looked at his watch. "They should be dialing in any moment, sir," he said.

Jack nodded. "We'll stay out of your way. I do need to report the situation to General Hammond while the gate's still open."

"Not an issue, sir."

Jack heard the chevrons lock into place and looked up, indulging himself in taking a moment to enjoy the fantastic sight of the wormhole opening. The kawoosh settled into its normal watery surface and Jack looked over to Stark, nodding to give the man permission. "SGC, this is Stark. We stand ready to receive your shipment."

"We read you loud and clear, Sergeant. The first piece of six is coming through the gate. Please notify us when it is clear to send the next one."

"Acknowledged," Stark said. He motioned towards Jack and he reached for his radio.

"Walter, this is O'Neill," Jack said. "Is Hammond around?"

"Colonel, it's good to hear from you, sir. General Hammond was hoping that you'd report in." A FRED trundled through the gate and Jack stepped back, moving out of the way as Stark's crew moved forward, maneuvering the device away from the gate. "Stand by, Colonel. The general is on his way down."

"Standing by." Jack turned to Jonas. "Wanna see if they need a hand?"

Jonas paused. "Sure." He smiled and made his way over to Stark.

"Colonel O'Neill, this is General Hammond."

"Sir, it's good to hear your voice," Jack said. Stark motioned at him and Jack nodded. "By the way, sir, they're ready for part number two."

"Understood. What's your situation, Colonel?"

"We've got a little mess here," Jack said. "Jonas and I were evicted from the ship, Carter and Teal'c are still there."

"What's their situation?" Hammond asked.

"We're pretty sure they're fine," Jack said. "The thing is, they're not talking and we can't get into them." Jack looked around. "The overall political situation has gone to hell. The religious folks are sequestered in the ship, Kalfas' men have it surrounded and won't let anyone enter."

"And Ashwan?"

"Staying out of things so far," Jack said. "And we're ready for part three."

"I'm presuming that you have a plan," Hammond said. In the background, Jack heard Walter talking to the techs sending the parts through the gate.

"Yes, sir. Ronson says he can get the Prometheus flight ready in two more days. Once he has the ship fixed, we're gonna go in and get Carter and Teal'c. We don't dare do it before then, the situation is too unstable and we can't risk losing the Prometheus."

"Sounds pretty risky, Colonel."

"We'll get them back, sir," Jack promised.

"I can send you some reinforcements," Hammond offered.

"No, sir," Jack said. "This planet's teetering on the edge of a civil war. Right now, things are relatively stable, but there are a few too many trigger-happy folks around here. They see personnel coming through and there's no telling what they'll do."

"Understood. And the status of your mission?"

Jack sighed. "Jonas and I were on the ship for less than twelve hours before we were asked to leave. Carter and Teal'c have been out of contact for the past twenty-four. It's possible that they've gotten something from the ship, but I don't know."

"Very well," Hammond said. "Are they ready for part four yet?"

Jack looked at Stacks. "Yes, sir."

"You should know, Colonel, that your mission objectives have changed," Hammond said.

"Beyond getting the rest of my team back?" Jack asked.

He could hear Hammond sigh. "The President is most interested in us recovering the Hatak ship and attaining custody of it."

"Custody?" Jack asked. "It's a ship, not a kid."

"I'm aware of that, Colonel," Hammond said, a long-suffering tone in his voice.

"General, even if we ignore that the ship is inhabited by folks that are a wee bit possessive about their new homes, and that it's surrounded by a rather well armed military presence, the thing's been buried for a few hundred years. There's no way in hell we're gonna get it unburied. And even if we do, I sincerely doubt it's flight worthy." Stark waved at him. "And we're ready for part five."

"Is that your professional opinion, Colonel," Hammond said.

Jack paused, considering his words. "As an engineer? I have no idea. But as someone that's on the planet and dealt with the people, this is a political situation we do NOT want to stick our noses in. This planet's on the brink of not only a civil, but a religious war. We've already got terrorist activity going on with the promise of things escalating. Unless we're planning to choose sides, my tactical opinion is that we get OUR ship, get our people and get the hell out of here." Jack paused. "Sir," he added belatedly.

"Very well, Colonel. Do you have anything else to report?"

"No, sir. Best case scenario, we're gonna have Prometheus in the air and Carter and Teal'c back before the end of the week."

"Understood. If your situation changes, let me know. Hammond out."

"We're ready for part six, and O'Neill out."

Jack looked over at Stark and nodded, giving control back to the sergeant. "Colonel," Jonas said. Jack looked at him. "Am I imagining things, or are they closer?" Jonas pointed off to their right.

Jack followed his gesture and frowned, reaching into his vest to pull out his binoculars. He studied the horizon, turning a slow 360. "You're not imagining things," Jack said.

"They do it every time," Stark said.

"Sergeant?"

"The Denialists. Every time we get a shipment, they come closer. I think they're under orders to make sure that we're not bringing too much."

"Have you had contact?"

Stark shook his head. "They keep their distance, sir. Close enough for us to know they're there, but not close enough to be provocative."

The last FRED came through the gate and it snapped shut, leaving silence in its wake. "Well, then, let's get this stuff back to Prometheus," Jack said. He looked up at the cloudless blue sky and swiped at the sweat on his forehead. "Before it melts."

The odd convoy fell into shape and slowly crawled their way back across the desert.


/////



Jonas walked beside the FRED, squinting his eyes against the dust stirred up by the vehicles' tracks. The Prometheus' crew was spread out along the convoy, two people per FRED. One used the remote control to drive the unmanned crawler while the other walked on the other side to assist with any steering.

Sergeant Stark led the convoy and Colonel O'Neill walked by his side. The two vehicles they'd arrived in were bringing up the rear. Despite the offer to ride, Jonas agreed with Stark and Colonel O'Neill, walking in the open was preferable to being cooped up in a hot box on wheels. With nothing really to do beyond keeping up, Jonas let his eyes wander, surveying their surroundings.

The Wastelands of Anhur were certainly living up to their name. The plain through which they walked was rocky and treeless. A few scrubby bushes and clumps of grass grew in scattered randomness. Only the rocks provided any real cover and Jonas found himself studying the outcrops and overhangs for any threat.

He knew that Colonel O'Neill was doing the same, as were the other members of the convoy. They were all on edge. Kalfas' men had promised that the Prometheus crew would have safe passage, but he'd also mandated that the personnel needed to be kept at a minimum. Basically, they were allowed enough people to receive and take the supplies back to the ship, but no guards.

Jonas also knew all too well that the promises of the leaders often meant little to the men in the ranks. All it would take would be one misunderstood gesture, one impatient or inexperienced person and things could go very badly, very quickly.

A hot breeze swept across the convoy, kicking up even more dust and sand. Jonas winced, turning his head to shield his face from the stinging sand. The wind was ceaseless here, he remembered that much form his first trip. He and Teal'c had spent days in the desert searching for the Stargate, and even more after that striving to free it from its stony tomb. The windblown sand and dust had gotten into everything. His ears, his eyes, after a few hours everything had turned a monotonous shade of tan.

He knew the wind had carved the landscape as well. Just like in the American southwest, most of the rocks on Tagrea were soft, sedimentary rocks, easily eroded by water and wind.
Jonas paused, an idea occurring to him. "Colonel!" he called out, jogging forward. "Colonel O'Neill!"

"What's wrong?" Stark asked, his hand tensing on his weapon. O'Neill did the same.

"What? No, no. Sorry, nothing's wrong," Jonas hurried to reassure, belatedly realizing that they'd taken his cries for a warning.

"Well, if you gotta go, you should have gone before we left and you can wait until we get back."

"Actually, Colonel, I think I may have a way to get into the Hatak."

That got their attention and Colonel O'Neill stopped in his tracks. Stark walked on for a few more steps, then he stopped too and retraced his steps. The three of them moved out of the way of the convoy. "What's your idea?" O'Neill asked.

Jonas paused, surprised that the Colonel had taken his idea to heart so quickly. "These rocks are sandstone," Jonas said. "It's soft and easily eroded."

"I'm thrilled."

"Colonel, there's some areas of the southwest where the are massive cracks and fissures in the rocks and they're all eroded by the wind. Do you remember that hiker on the news that fell and was trapped? He fell into a huge fissure that was just a few feet wide but hundreds of feel tall and long."

"Jonas, it's hot, get to the point," O'Neill requested.

"There's a very good chance that the cavern the Hatak is in isn't isolated. When we were here before, we found a lot of these. There's a whole network of fissures and one of them might lead us right to the Hatak," Jonas said.

Stark shook his head. "The Denialists won't let us just explore."

"Sergeant, if we enter the network outside the boundary of the Denialists, they won't even know we're there."

"Use them like a tunnel to get close," O'Neill said.

Jonas nodded. "I know it's a long shot, Colonel. I don't even know for sure if there IS a fissure that leads to the Hatak, but it might get us close."

"The problem is, we could wander in these crevices for days," O'Neill said.

"Chairman Ashwan said that people have been exploring here a lot. Maybe there's someone local that can help us. They might even have a map."

"Yeah, but can we trust them," Stark asked.

"We're trusting Kalfas and he's a bigger pain in the ass," O'Neill said.

"We can have Colonel Ronson call him when we get back, sir," Stark said.

"It's worth checking out," O'Neill said. He glanced over his shoulder as the last FRED trundled past them. He made a motion with his hand and the three of them rejoined the convoy as it continued its trek back to Prometheus.


/////


"Some of these terms are unfamiliar to me," Tarek said, looking over at Teal'c. "The words make little sense."

"I believe that is because they are terms that are not originating from this language," Teal'c said.

"How do you mean?"

"The terms that you refer to are terms that someone has introduced into this language. And terms that I am familiar with only because of my familiarity with the Tau'ri language." Teal'c pointed out one of the terms. "This speaks of experiments, and of threats in the darkness." He looked at Tarek. "Major Carter needs to be informed of this."

He got to his feet and rapped on her door. He knew that she did not sleep deeply if she was indeed asleep. "Major Carter?"

After a moment the door opened and she stepped out, stretching slightly. "Any luck?" she asked.

"Indeed," Teal'c said, guiding her to the table.

"There are some terms that neither of us can understand," Tarek said.

"The ones that I do recognize, however, remind me of artifacts that we discovered on Hanka."

"Nirti," Major Carter said.

Teal'c nodded. "I do not know if Nirti was on this planet, however I do believe that similar events have transpired."

Tarek held a sheet of paper in front of her and Major Carter squinted at it. "My goa'uld is beyond rusty," she said. "Pretend I'm Colonel O'Neill and bottom line it for me."

"These papers speak of experiments. I am not certain what, much of the language is unclear to me," Teal'c said.

"What goa'uld hasn't done experiments," Major Carter said. "The personal shield on the hand device for example."

"If we have translated this correctly, these were not technological experiments," Tarek said.

"They were perpetrated upon the humans of this planet," Teal'c said.

"What kind of experiments?" Major Carter asked. Her question remained unanswered s a low rumbling roar echoed throughout the chamber. Teal'c immediately got to his feet and moved towards the door. "That doesn't sound good," Major Carter said.

A dull clattering sound came from over their heads and Teal'c instinctively looked up. "Cave in," he said.

"That first sounded more like an explosion."

Shouts and yells echoed in the hall and Teal'c opened the door, ignoring Major Carter's restraining hand on his arm. Their hall outside their quarters was filled with running people. Alarms blared and Teal'c thought that he smelled the faintest wisps of smoke. "I believe that we have been attacked," he said.

"You don't know that Teal'c. They could have tried to start up one of the engines and had it go critical," Major Carter said.

"Perhaps I could inquire," Tarek offered.

"Do that," Major Carter ordered. Tarek nodded and hurried off, quickly disappearing down the hall.

"Major Carter, it may be wise to avail ourselves of this opportunity to make our egress," Teal'c suggested.

She looked at him, and then back out at the chaos in the hall. He could see that she was measuring their chances of success. "I don't know, Teal'c. We might make it out of here, but if this ship is surrounded by Denialists like Tarek said, we could be jumping from the frying pan into the fire."

"It is also possible that this ship has been invaded. If we tarry, we risk being trapped here and held as hostages."

"We already are hostages," she said. "Teal'c, right now the Colonel knows where we are. And even if we do get out of here, there's miles and miles of desert between here and the city and we don't have any supplies, not to mention having to make our way through enemy territory."

Footsteps pounded down the hall and the two of them tensed, ready to retreat back into their room if they needed to.

Teal'c felt that Major Carter was incorrect, that the ship was not suffering from a natural disaster but an attack. And it was a logical fear to presume that any of the Followers may place the blame upon them, even if they had been locked into their room almost since their arrival. They were, after all, the intruders.

He relaxed slightly when he recognized Tarek returning to them, Marshak Anon at his side. "What happened?" Major Carter demanded.

"We have been attacked," Marshak Anon said. Teal'c refrained from gloating. "Several bombs have exploded outside the temple."

"There are many injured," Tarek said.

"Major Carter, I will allow you and Teal'c to leave," Marshak said.

"Marshak, our people didn't do this," she said. "We don't work that way."

"I am not allowing you to leave for fear of reprisals," he said. "It is the Denialists that attack us. I allow you to leave because this temple may fall. The explosions have weakened the ground in which it is buried. In fact, it is possible that this temple may become our tomb." He looked first her, then Teal'c in the eyes. "That is a fate my people will accept, but not that we shall not force upon others. You are free to leave, as are you Tarek."

Major Carter sighed and looked at Teal'c. "How bad is it?" she asked.

"A large boulder fell and breached one of the walls," Marshak Anon said. "Some were injured in the original explosions, others in the subsequent rock falls."

"What about the shields?" she asked. Marshak frowned at her. "A shield is an energy barrier that can extend around the ship. It can keep intruders out and can protect it from falling rocks as well."

"I know that you have mentioned these before, but I do not know about such a feature. The core has been untouched since you last saw it. My people have applied themselves to the more immediate threat of the Denialists."

Major Carter looked Teal'c's way and he silently nodded, agreeing to the question in her eyes. "Perhaps we can educate you on this feature," he said.

"Why?" Marshak Anon asked. "You refused to assist us before."

"Before you were holding us against our will and had just attacked Colonel O'Neill," Major Carter said.

"Marshak, they have already assisted me in deciphering some of our Lord's words," Tarek said.

Marshak hesitated for a few seconds. "Very well. If it will save more of my people, I would consider the requests of Kalfas himself. Come." He waved them forward with his hand.


/////


Sam followed Marshak through the corridors, Tarek and Teal'c trailing behind her. She could hear the growing sounds of panic as they made their way to the peltac. Followers hurried past them and Sam had no idea if they were running from danger or trying to help.

An ominous boom echoed through the ship and Sam instinctively looked up, reaching one hand out to steady herself when the walls shook. "The rocks around the ship grow more and more unstable," Marshak said.

"Teal'c, how deep are we?"

"Deep enough to make the risk of being buried alive very real," Teal'c said. "It is also possible that the...sek'la'met may crumble."

"Sek'la'met?" Marshak asked, looking to Sam to translate.

"Super structure," she said. "The main system of supports that holds this ship together. It's skeleton."

"But you have said this ship was capable of space flight. Surely it is strong," Marshak said.

Sam shook her head. "Oddly enough, it's just the opposite. This ship was engineered to spend most of its time in space, in a relatively gravity less environment. When it would land on a planet, they'd use shields to bolster its structural integrity. Now, being buried has probably helped since it's been protected from the elements."

"I have never known of a Hatak ship to spend centuries upon the surface of a planet," Teal'c said. "Much less below it."

They arrived at the Peltac and Sam immediately moved towards the main control panel. They needed shields and they needed them now.

"What are they doing here!" Bretan demanded, stalking towards them. There were a couple dozen people on the Peltac, most of them doing nothing more than just standing there. Perhaps they knew that assistance was hidden in those consoles, or perhaps they just wished that it was. Sam glanced up, aware that if all these people were loyal to Bretan, she and Teal'c could be in some serious trouble.

"They are here to assist us," Marshak said, motioning Sam to continue as he stepped between her and Bretan.

"Assist us? We would not need assistance if it were not for them."

"They have done nothing to harm us," Tarek said.

"So you deem being chased from your position nothing?" Bretan challenged.

"Kalfas did that, not them."

"Kalfas only had reason because of them!"

"ENOUGH!" Marshak roared. "If it were not for the humans and their finding of the Ring of the Gods, we would still be hiding in the cellars of the city, too afraid to claim our legacy. Major Carter and Teal'c have not harmed us. If anyone has been harmed, it was Colonel O'Neill, who YOU attacked unprovoked."

He stepped forward, openly challenging Bretan. "An act that was against my wishes. These visitors have offered their assistance in saving our temple. And we shall not only allow them to give us assistance, we shall aid them however we can." He looked up at the people gathered in the Peltac. "These people are under my personal protection. Harming them is to harm me. And you will obey them as you would me."

Sam looked up, the tension in the room making her skin crawl. This was a point of no return. If the people here were loyal to Bretan or held malice towards them, she and Teal'c would likely be torn apart...or just tossed into a cell if they were feeling generous.

"Major Carter believes that she can restore the shields and offer this ship protection from the falling rocks," Tarek said. "Is that not right, Major?"

Sam nodded. "Yes," she said loudly, desperately praying that she was not promising more than she could deliver.

"What do you require to make this happen?" Marshak said.

"I need to scavenge the crystals from the other panels and see if I can get enough to make the shields work," she said.

"You were not optimistic in doing this before," Lyta said, melting out from the crowd.

"Lyta, hi," Sam said. "Before I was trying to get as many systems online as possible. Right now, we just need one."

"Do you believe that this is possible?" Teal'c asked her.

Sam nodded. "Yeah. The shield systems were just missing a few crystals. But, Teal'c, it won't last for long on the battery power that we're running on. Nor will the field be very strong."

"If I can get at least one of the engines online, will that provide enough power?" he asked.

Sam nodded. "Yeah, it should. I don't know if it'll completely protect us if the roof totally collapses though."

Teal'c shrugged. "We shall cross that bridge as it is needed," he said. "I shall journey down to the engine room and attempt to repair an engine."

"I will go with you," Marshak said. "If this temple is to be our home, we must learn its workings."

"I shall remain with Major Carter," Tarek said. He glared at Bretan, who lurked on the fringes of the crowd. "To insure that your final declaration is clearly remembered."
Sam nodded her thanks, grateful that she would have at least one ally.

"Given our lack of radios, I will not be able to provide warning when I bring the engine online," Teal'c warned. "You should prepare for a power surge."

Sam nodded. "I'll make sure that the buffers can handle it." Teal'c nodded. "Be careful," she warned.

Teal'c and Marshak left the Peltac and Sam looked after them for a second, aware that she could very well have seen her friend for the last time. "Can I be of assistance?" Lyta asked.

Sam smiled, grateful to be pulled back to the more urgent matter at hand. She figured that it'd take Teal'c an hour to make his way to the engine room, and anytime after that he could have the engine online. She just hoped that the rocks hanging over this ship defied gravity for that long.

"Thank you," she said. "Yes, I would love your help."

Trusting Tarek to keep an eye on Bretan, Sam motioned for Lyta to join her and turned her attention to the shield control panel.

Jack squinted his eyes, frowning at the small piece of paper in his hands as he tried to reconcile the scrawled markings there with the landscape before him. "How old did Ashwan say this map was?" he asked, careful to pitch his voice just above a whisper.

"He didn't," Jonas said. "But I didn't ask either."

"I can't make heads or tails of this mess," Jack complained. He sighed and looked at Jonas. "You've spent more time out here than I have, does any of this look familiar?"

Jonas looked around, trying to pick out familiar land marks. "We never ventured very far at night," he said softly, referring to the days he and Teal'c had spent in the Plains of
Anhur trying to free the Stargate from its rocky tomb and to raise it to a usable state. "The Tagrean workers always cautioned us about animals. Some big man-eating thing. Although it was probably just their way to explain people that got lost or--"

"Jonas," Jack interrupted.

"The Denialists are over that way, right?" he asked, pointing at the faint flickering of distant camp fires.

Jack nodded. "Yeah, about five klicks."

"And they're surrounding the ship." Jack nodded again. Jonas glanced over his shoulder, getting his bearings from the Stargate, just barely visible in the distance. "That fissure over there," he said. He pointed off to his right. "That's the largest one around."

"Large doesn't mean that it leads us to the Hatak."

"I think it does," Jonas said. He reached for the map, and Jack was grateful for the light of the full moon that meant that they didn't need to use any position revealing artificial lights. Even five klicks away, all it would take would be one sharp eyed Denialist for their position to be compromised. And a major component of them sneaking into the Hatak was to sneak in, something they couldn't do if the Denialists knew they were there.

"I think that's what this line is. It represents that fissure. And the fourth one that branches off of that one is the one that will lead us to the Hatak."

"To the left or to the right?"

"Colonel?"

"Do we branch off to the left or to the right?" Jack asked.

Jonas stared at the map and realized that he really had no idea. Left and Right were relative. The map bore no markings as to which way was 'up' or 'down'. He shrugged. "Chairman Ashwan drew it this way, so I'm guessing that the entrance to the fissure is at the bottom, so it's the fourth off shoot on the left," he said.

Jack shrugged, reaching out to take the map from Jonas. He folded it up and shoved it into his pocket. "Let's go then."

The pair of them walked towards the fissure and carefully entered it. It wasn't any warmer in the fissure although Jack was glad to be out of the wind. Predictably, it was cold in the desert at night and Jack couldn't deny the chill that sank into his bones. The outer side of the rocks had shed a little warmth, but the deeper they got into the fissure the cooler the air got as they breached the parts that rarely, if ever, got sunlight.

It was also a lot darker in the chasm and Jack reached for his flashlight, willingly trading a lack of stealth for speed and accuracy. The fissure - presuming that Ashwan was right and it did lead directly to the Hatak - was far from a direct route and he wanted to be past the Denialist lines before they lost the cover of darkness.

He saw Jonas follow suit and twin beams of light revealed their path.

It was sandier in the fissure than it was in the open and Jack could only guess that the fine sand, blown relentlessly across the plains, settled in the fissures where it was protected from the wind. With a form of soil to cling to and shielded from the blistering sun, grasses grew in irregular lumps in the fissure and a few hardy plants clung to the fissure walls, hanging like three dimensional photographs.

Jack pushed his pace as much as he could, ignoring the pounding of his head. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a packet of pills. He ripped it open and dumped them into his mouth, quickly grabbing his canteen and taking a drink to wash them down. Doctor Read had cleared him for duty - as if Jack was really going to accept any other outcome - and declared that he had a minor concussion. Something cured by a little time and a few doses of any over the counter pain killer.

Taking drugs was something Jack ordinarily avoided, preferring to give his liver a break and just let the pain run its course. But he needed to be in as good shape as possible if he was going to try and rescue his people. Thus he needed to be able to think clearly and react quickly, and he couldn't do that with his senses dulled by pain.

"You're keeping track of where we're going, right?" Jack asked, more to fill the silence than anything else.

"Colonel?"

"Should I have brought bread crumbs?" Jack knew precisely where they were, and knew that the sandy soil would help them retrace their tracks. However he wanted to make sure that Jonas did too. Just in case Jonas would have to lead Carter and Teal'c on his own.

"No, Colonel, I know how to get back," Jonas said. "What are we going to do when we get to the ship?"

"You ask this now?" Jack said. "Why didn't you ask back on Prometheus?"

Jonas shrugged. "I figured we wouldn't be out here if you didn't have a plan," he said.

Jack shook his head, wondering if he should be flattered or spooked by the trust. "It's a safe bet that they have sentries. Hopefully we'll be able to get past them without killing anyone."

"But the main entrance is guarded."

Jack nodded. "There's another entrance."

"There is?"

"Yep."

"Marshak didn't mention another entrance."

"Which is why I know that there is one," Jack said. "That body that Teal'c and I found, some animal had been at it."

"It could have come in the main entrance."

"It's possible, but I don't think so. When a Hatak is grounded it has a dozen entry points, if for no other reason than waste disposal. There are exhaust ports by the engines and a few other cracks and crevices we can look into."

"But what if we can't get at them?" Jonas asked.

"We'll find a way," Jack declared. "Worse comes to worse, we'll climb up to one of the balconies. There's a good chance that they're still held in our room. If that's true, we just make our way there and break them out." Jonas nodded and Jack felt like the man was making mental notes of their plan. "If for some reason they're not mobile, we'll make it up as we go along."

Jonas stopped in his tracks and stared at Jack. "Do you think they've been hurt?" he asked, his voice distressed.

"I hope they haven't," Jack said, wanting to reassure him but also enough of a realist to know that what he wanted to happen often didn't. "But Bretan's a fruitcake and I don't know enough about this Marshak guy to trust him very far."

"But Sam didn't seem--"

"Carter said what she needed to say to get you out of there," Jack interrupted. "Jonas, I sincerely hope that they're both okay and have spent the last two days playing tiddlywinks, but the fact is that they've been held against their will by someone that tried to brain me. You're gonna have to give me a little distrust here."

Jonas sighed. "Right. You're right, of course. What if they can't walk?"

"We do what we can to get them as far away as we can, then we call Ronson up for some support," Jack said. "If we're lucky, we'll be able to hide in these fissures for a bit. And if we're really lucky, they won't even notice that we're gone until we're safely aboard Prometheus."

Jonas nodded and they continued walking, trudging their way through the deepening sand. The fissure widened and narrowed unpredictably, going from twenty feet wide to barely three several times. He could tell that some of the erosion was water based, the areas where the fissure was wider at the top and narrower at the bottom. But in other places he could see that it was wind based and it reminded him of some rocks he'd seen once near Lake Meade in Nevada.

Which meant that, when the wind blew from the right direction, it likely whipped the sand up into a bit of a mini sandstorm. Which also meant that they likely did NOT want to be in this fissure if the wind rose. And all Jack could do was to hope that the weather called for calm winds for the next day or so. Or they'd very likely get an up close and personal demonstration of sand blasting in progress.

They walked on a bit further until Jack guessed that they were now a mile from the fissure entrance. The fissure veered sharply to the right and Jack frowned, aware that they were walking away from the Hatak instead of towards it.

"It's supposed to do this," Jonas said.

"Huh?"

"It says so on the map, Colonel." He pulled the slip of paper out of hic pocket. "It will turn back towards the Hatak in a little bit and the next tunnel, I guess, towards the left
will lead us to the ship."

"Okay," Jack said, relieved that Jonas was indeed paying attention to their location. Jack heard a low rumble and he stopped, cocking his head to hear better.

"What-" Jack held up his hand to silence Jonas. He raised his other hand and laid his fingers on the wall of the fissure. The rock vibrated slightly and a small shower of sand filtered down from above, knocked loose by the vibration.

"I don't see any clouds," Jonas said. "Maybe it's on the horizon."

"That's not thunder," Jack said. "Thunder doesn't normally make the ground shake, at least not this far beneath the surface."

"I don't understand," Jonas said.

"It was an explosion. And I'm gonna guess it's from the Hatak."

"How do you know?" Jonas asked.

Jack looked at him. "I suppose it COULD be Ashwan's people trying some new mining techniques but given that we have a ship surrounded by hostile forces a few klicks away I'm gonna go with the more obvious choice."

"Right."

Jonas looked away uncertainly and Jack sighed. "We need to pick up the pace," he said, "If the crap is hitting the fan, it might be just the diversion we need to get into the ship."

Jonas nodded. "It's this way," he said, indicating a dark split off the fissure.

"Good. Who knows, maybe we'll get Carter and Teal'c back in time for breakfast."


/////


"Will this help you, Major?" Lyta asked, holding up a short orange crystal.

Sam glanced over at it, frowning as she tried to remember precisely what she'd sent the woman searching for.

"You said this would help regulate the power," she prompted.

"Right." Sam smiled at her. "Just set it down on the console please. I'll install it in a bit."

Lyta nodded and squatted at Sam's side, gathering her skirts. "Do you believe that you can make the shields work?"

Sam was kneeling in front of one of the low panels. Some of the control crystals for the shield control were charred and shattered. And it was those crystals that she was trying to scavenge replacements for. "I think I can," Sam said. "I only need a few crystals."

"And then we will be protected?"

"Maybe," Sam said.

"But you said this shield would protect us," Lyta said.

"Lyta, think of it like...okay, you have cold seasons, right?"

"Yes."

"So let's pretend that the rocks outside are the cold. Now, if we get the shield to work, but the engines won't, then the shield is like this t-shirt." Sam pulled at the fabric of the shirt she was wearing. "It's thin and will protect a little. So if it's not very cold, meaning that the rocks stay small, it'll be okay. But if it gets really cold..."

"That shirt will not provide enough warmth."

"Right." Sam held up her jacket. "This is your shield on engines." She plucked at her shirt. "This is your shield on batteries."

"And the bigger the rocks, the more shields are needed."

"Yes."

"I understand now." Lyta smiled.

Sam turned her attention back to the panel and rearranged a couple of blue crystals. She held out her hand and Lyta handed her the orange one. Sam slipped it into place and levered herself to her feet.

She pressed a button and the panel sprang into life. Scanning the readings she saw that they were within normal parameters, barely. She turned to Lyta and smiled.

"We have our...t-shirt?"

"We have our t-shirt," Sam declared. "Now we just need Teal'c and Marshak to get the engine online before the weather takes a turn for the worst."


/////


Marshak followed Teal'c through the dark corridors, at times nearly running to keep up with the alien's longer stride.

The torches that he and Teal'c carried flickered wildly, sometimes barely staying lit as they hurried in their quest. Marshak had not heard any more collapses however he also knew that they were deep in the bowels of the ship, and may be too far away to hear or feel them.

As they walked, Marshak often found his attention diverted by their surroundings. He had never explored this deeply into the temple and had only Bretan's recollections to describe it. It was not that he had not wanted to explore his Lord's temple, but there simply had not been enough time. The need to gather and safe guard his people was a far greater priority than to satisfy his own curiosity.

"This is not natural," he said, his voice echoing off the smooth, dark walls. The flickering torches caused shadows to dance enthusiastically along the walls, alternatively filling Marshak with wonder and dread. It was very possible that his master had walked these very same corridors, looked upon these walls, and perhaps visited this engine room.

But he had left. And Marshak could not fathom who had caused his Lord to abandon his people. And then there were the tales that the off-worlders told. Stories of enslavement and horrors. He did not want to believe that they could be true. Yet, something had happened here. Something had caused his Lord to leave.

Horus had not been conquered by another. There were no tales of such a happening. Just as there was no sign of a conqueror.

His Lord had left and Marshak could only think of two reasons. That his Lord had left voluntarily and circumstances prevented his return. Or that his people had forced him to leave.

The latter had seemed an impossible idea until a few months ago. Yet, the appearance of the off-worlders and their discovery of the Ring of the Gods had given that idea merit. Even if Horus had left voluntarily, someone had buried the means of his return. Someone did not want him back.

Many someones.

The fact of the temple's burial also spoke of enmity towards Horus. Burying the temple was a task that had taken years to complete and Marshak could not believe that his own had done it. Even now, the Followers numbers were few and if they had indeed accomplished the feat of burying the temple, there would be record of it.

The only logical conclusion that he could draw was that the people of Tagrea had buried the temple. And that they had sent the ancestors of the Followers into hiding, along with every single artifact that proved Horus' very existence.

"The corridors through which we walk are not part of this planet," Teal'c confirmed.
"These are the lower levels of the ship. The engine room is a level below this one."

"Why did you not repair the engines when you were here last?" Marshak asked.

"O'Neill and I merely ascertained that they appeared undamaged. He wished for Major Carter to examine them before we attempted to bring them to life," Teal'c explained.

"If you fear for the engines, why is she not with us now?" Marshak asked, fearing that he and Teal'c had wasted valuable time.

"Our prior plan took into account the luxury of time," Teal'c said, glancing back at him. "That is a luxury that we no longer possess."

"Is it dangerous to activate these engines?" Marshak asked, concerned for his people and the damage a double assault of stresses from both above and below could cause.

"It may be," Teal'c said. "Yet I believe that danger pales when compared to being buried alive."

They climbed down a few steps and walked into a cavernous room. Marshak held up his torch and saw that the light revealed nothing but black emptiness above him. This room dwarfed even the control room at the pinnacle of the temple. Three large structures stood against each wall and Teal'c made his way towards a low pedestal in the center of the room. He set his long weapon aside, propping it against the console. He began to push buttons while Marshak watched. "If the engines need repair, will you be able to do it?"

"I believe so," Teal'c replied. He knelt down and removed a panel, struggling to accomplish his task with only one hand.

"Permit me to assist you," Marshak offered. He took the torch from Teal'c and held one in each hand, doing his best to help the man.

"One engine should provide sufficient power for the shields," Teal'c said.

"And if it does not?" Marshak asked.

"Then we shall hope that the power from one engine will purchase us enough time to allow Major Carter to come down and attempt to repair the engines," Teal'c said.

"And if she cannot?" Marshak pushed.

Teal'c paused and stared at him. "Then you shall be forced to make a difficult decision," he said evenly.

"You believe that I have made a mistake?" Marshak asked, something driving him to seek counsel from the man. Counsel was a rare thing for him, and something that he hadn't had the luxury of for years.

After generations of persecution and hiding, he knew of no one with whom he could discuss things, not that the discovery of the temple had allowed him much time. He and the other Followers had been enjoying a new found freedom in the past few lunar cycles. Proof of the validity of their belief had bolstered their numbers. Many who had been afraid to profess their feelings openly now felt the freedom to again wear the symbols of their faith and to acknowledge their beliefs.

"You believe that I should not have brought my people here to claim our temple?" he asked.

Teal'c sighed, looking up for a second from his task. "I can understand the desire to possess proof of one's beliefs," he said. "My people have been slaves for many generations and, while some amongst us accept their lot in life, others long for true freedom. To control our own destinies. If we were to discover a trove such as this, we would seek to possess it." Marshak smiled. "However, my people are warriors."

"And because mine are not, we do not deserve such a prize?"

"Deserving and keeping are often at odds with each other. One does not often keep all that one deserves, nor do some deserve what they keep." Teal'c's hand maneuvered inside the console, rearranging and checking the crystals.

"My wish is to give my people a safe haven," Marshak said. "Somewhere where they can live without fear. A refuge from the intolerance of others."

"The god to which you give your loyalty so freely would not repay it in kind. It is very likely that the fear and tolerance of which you speak is born in the memories of generations of slavery," Teal'c said. "It is Jonas Quinn's supposition that the Followers are the descendents of Heru'ur's personal slaves. Those among the Tagreans that assisted in the captivity and persecution of their own kin."

"I would not disagree with his assertion," Marshak said. "Do not misunderstand me, Teal'c, I support and believe in my people, yet I know that time has obscured much of the truth in our past. I have no desire to recreate our past, but I do not feel that we are well served by forgetting it either. We must uncover as much as we can, for only then can we even approach the truth and gain some understanding of what has happened."

"And if that understanding confirms that your people were the enslavers and that knowledge reinforces the distrust of your group?" Teal'c asked.

"Then it does," Marshak said. "And if that knowledge results in the disbanding of my people, so be it. We cannot persist in hiding from our-" Marshak broke off as he noticed a strange look on the Jaffa's face. "Wh-" The man held up a restraining arm.

Marshak felt his senses tingle as his body responded to a threat. Teal'c reached for his staff weapon as Marshak turned, his eyes struggling to pierce the inky blackness of the engine room.

He held the torches up high, his gaze narrowing to one small flicker of movement. "MARSHAK!" Teal'c called out as the shadow poured forth from the darkness.

A heavy force slammed into Marshak's chest and he flew back, the torches falling from his hands. Fetid breath assaulted his senses as deep burning sensations tore into his flesh.
Unable to see, Marshak relied solely on his instincts as he raised his arms, attempting to protect his face and neck from whatever was attacking him.

Vaguely he heard Teal'c's voice as the man yelled at him. A viselike grip caught one arm and Marshak felt his flesh tear as his own hot blood poured into his eyes, blinding him. His own scream of pain was lost amongst deep growls and roars from the creature.

As suddenly as it had attacked him, the weight was gone and Marshak laid upon the floor, his mind struggling to process what had just happened. His breath rasped in his throat and he tried to move, crying out as a wave of pain washed over him and his eyes fell shut.

Teal'c stared in shock as the creature dashed out from the darkness and attacked Marshak. He grabbed and armed his staff weapon, struggling to distinguish between friend and foe as the two figures fought in the flickering torch light.

Realizing that he would never be able to get a clear shot, he set his staff weapon aside and threw himself at the creature, wrapping his arm around its neck as he pulled it off Marshak.
Teal'c's own weight and momentum gave him a small advantage, but it soon faded and he found himself struggling with all his strength.

The creature was large and Teal'c felt that it was little more than sinewy muscle. He fought to control the creature's head, aware that, weaponless, his only means to prevail was to choke it.

Claws tore into the flesh of his legs as teeth snapped at his head. Teal'c struggled to get a good grip around the creature's neck, barely perceiving a scant covering of coarse fur. He caught the glint of the torchlight off the creature's eye and he dug at it, gouging into the warm stickiness. The creature roared and Teal'c took advantage of the distraction to grab its neck. He squeezed with all his strength as the creature fought, its claws digging into Teal'c's flesh mercilessly.

After an eternal few moments, its struggles started to weaken. Teal'c refused to loosen his grip, instead he tightened it as he rolled so that he would be on top. The creature's limbs flopped to the deck and Teal'c loosened his grip for a second, altering it slightly until he could twist its neck. A sharp crack echoed through the chamber and only then did Teal'c relax.

Satisfied that it was dead, he leaned back and staggered to his feet, the fortifying strength of adrenaline helping him keep his balance. He stumbled over to Marshak, the man's shape barely visible in the flickering shadows.

Teal'c knelt down and fumbled for the man's pulse. It thrummed weakly under blood drenched skin. The world spun dizzily and Teal'c paused, suddenly conscious of pain radiating from all over his body. He could feel blood trickling steadily down his arms and legs and suddenly realized that he creature had indeed inflicted several severe wounds upon him.

The importance of his task flashed to the forefront of his brain and Teal'c pushed himself to his feet. He only took a couple of steps before he lost his balance and fell to his knees.
Crawling over to the console, he grasped the edge and pulled himself up, unable to smother a groan of pain. In the diminishing torchlight, he fumbled for the controls, the blood on his fingers making them sticky and stiff.

He manipulated the controls, closing his eyes in relief as two of the engines rumbled into life. His task complete, he let his knees buckle, sliding down to sit on the deck. He sat there for a second, breathing heavily as darkness clawed at the edges of his vision. He dug into his pocket and pulled out his vial of tretonin, injecting the serum into a piece of undamaged flesh in his thigh.

Marshak needed assistance. Yet, since he did not have a radio, their only hope of summoning assistance was to make their way up to an inhabited level. And he knew that with his injuries, he would not make such a journey himself, much less burdened by the body of another. He needed to rest and let the tretonin heal him.

His foot twitched and bumped into his staff weapon. He leaned forward, awkwardly pulling it into his lap. It was his only defense, feeble though it may be, and he could only hope that if any more creatures lurked in the darkness, they were as weak as he. Or it would be a very brief encounter.


/////


Lyta heard a low hum start from the console and she looked down, smiling as lights flickered on.

"Way to go, Teal'c," Major Carter said, applying herself to pressing controls.

"This is good?" Lyta asked, seeking confirmation for her suspicions.

"This is very good," Major Carter answered. She gestured with one hand, holding the other close to her side. "If I'm reading this right, we have enough power for life support, shields and the water reclamation. With some left over if we shut down a few decks and consolidate people.

"So we are safe?"

"For a little while," Major Carter answered, her tone cautious. "Now that the shields are working, I need to get down to the engine room and see how much naqahdah we have."

"Naqahdah?" Lyta asked, puzzled by the unfamiliar term.

"The power source for the engines. Normally there would be a readout up here, but it's not working. How much naqahdah we have determines how much power we have and for how long," she explained.

"So this may not protect us?" Lyta asked, alarmed that they may have spent so much time on something that may not help her people.

"It will," Major Carter promised. "But how long depends on how much power we have to run the shields and how much stress they're put under."

"I still do not understand," Lyta said.

"Okay, umm, think of it like a loaf of bread. If there's only one person eating it, then it'll last for days and days. But if there's a whole family, then it doesn't last as long. It's the same premise with the shields. If we only have a few small rocks falling, then they don't use much power and will last longer, but if there are a lot of rocks falling, then the power is used up faster and will give out sooner."

Lyta nodded. "I understand now."

Major Carter nodded. "I should go down to the engine room."

"We must dress your hand first," she said, gesturing towards the woman's bandaged hand.
Major Carter shook her head. "It's nothing. I don't think it even needs stitches. The price of working with broken crystals." She had cut her hand a few hours before and had responded to the injury is a most peculiar way, simply muttering a few odd words and doing little more than binding the wound with a convenient bit of cloth.

"It will get inflamed," Lyta said. "And you will get ill."

Major Carter smiled. "I'll be fine. Although I probably need a better bandage before I go playing in the engines."

"We can dress the wound," Lyta said. "Come." She led Major Carter out of the control area and down the corridor. "We have discovered sleeping and living facilities, so many of the Followers have moved here from the lower levels of the temple," she said as they walked further down the corridor and down a level.

"A Hatak ship can have a crew of several hundred to a few thousand. It only makes sense for there to be barracks," Major Carter said.

"We have found those, and some private quarters." She led them around a corner and into a large room. Even from in the hall, she could hear sounds that the room was not only inhabited, but full. "We are gathering the injured in this room," she said as they reached the threshold of Horus' personal chambers. "Hopefully with the shield working, there will be no more."

The room was crowded, both with the injured and those caring for them. People lay upon pallets on the floor and a few lucky ones, on beds. Some were visibly injured, hurriedly made bandages attempting to stem the flow of blood or to cover wounds. Others bore no obvious injuries, but had been found unconscious and had been brought to the makeshift hospital ward.

Major Carter paused in the doorway and Lyta saw her eyes scan the room. "None of them are ill," Lyta reassured her. "They were injured when the ceiling collapsed."

"I'm not worried about...Lyta, we brought medical supplies with us. Maybe I can help," Sam offered, setting aside her mission to deal with the more immediate issue.

"But you are not a healer."

"Technically, no. But I have field medic training. I can at least administer some first aid. And we have some pain killers that could help people out."

"You would be willing to do this?" Lyta asked.

"Sure, yeah."

"But the engines? You said that you needed to check on them," Lyta reminded.

Major Carter sighed. She looked around the room again. "This won't take all that long, an hour or two maybe. The engines should be fine." She gestured. "If I can just get back to our room, I'll get the med kits."

Lyta motioned for a friend of hers to come forward. "If you will tell Shabla what to bring, she can retrieve this kit."

Major Carter spoke to the woman, describing the packs that Lyta remembered the off-worlders wearing when they'd entered the temple. It took Shabla only a handful of moments to retrieve not only their packs but most of the items in the room, things that Lyta herself recognized from Lord Horus' chamber. As the caretakers watched, Major Carter first tended her own wound, cleaning and bandaging the cut on her hand, before donning a thin pair of flexible gloves and moving amongst the injured. Lyta followed, assisting where she could. All the while, hoping that the shield would continue to protect them...and wondering just what they would do if it failed.


/////


Jonas walked around a corner in the cave and smiled as - instead of rocks and dust - the flashlight beam revealed the familiar golden hull of a Hatak ship.

"The map was right," he said, knowing that it was the closest to 'I told you so' he dared try with Colonel O'Neill.

"Looks like it was," O'Neill said, standing beside Jonas and shining his own light as high up as he could. "And it's in pathetically good shape."

"Colonel?"

"I was kinda hoping for a nice convenient opening for us to get through."

"We could try the exhaust ports," Jonas suggested, trying to remember all the details of the plans he'd looked at months ago.

"If we have to. But I'd rather not go crawling through engines if we have a choice."

"Then I guess we should look for a way in," Jonas said. "Which way?"

O'Neill looked, shining his light both left and right. "This way." He indicated to the left.
The two of them started off, both shining their lights up and down the ship's hull, searching for any way in.

"Colonel." Jonas stopped and shined his light up. "There's one of the balconies."

O'Neill shook his head. "We'd never free climb up there," he said.

"It's not that steep," Jonas said. "I think I can make it."

"And if we fall, we're dead," O'Neill said bluntly. "Corpses can't rescue anyone."

"Oh," Jonas answered.

"We'll hold it in reserve if we can't find another way. Let's keep going."

They walked for a bit further, pausing when they reached a corner. They looked carefully around the corner, wondering if the upcoming side was the one that contained the entrance they'd used earlier. The main entrance would be one very easy and simply way to get in. Unfortunately, that option was also the one that would most likely lead to them being taken captive again. Which would definitely defeat their plans.

The next side was the last side of the ship and conveniently unguarded and they continued their search. "What if we can't find a way in?" Jonas asked.

"There's a way in."

"But what if-"

"Jonas, there is a way in," O'Neill insisted.

"Right," Jonas agreed. He knew better than to contradict the Colonel's positive thinking. "What about-"

Jonas heard a low rumble and felt the ground beneath his feet begin to shake. Dust and small pebbles started to rain down from above.

"What the hell?"

"Colonel?"

"We need that way in now!" Colonel O'Neill yelled. He broke into a run and Jonas followed him, the beams from their flashlights dancing crazily across the ship's hull. The roar grew louder and Jonas could feel a hot wind billowing up from the underbelly of the ship. It kicked up a choking dust and he coughed, struggling to breathe.

"HERE!" he heard O'Neill yell and he tried to follow him. Jonas tripped and he staggered to his feet, his eyes watering fiercely. He felt O'Neill dig his fingers into his jacket, pulling him forward. The pair of them stumbled into a dark hole, the roar fading slightly.
His eyes streaming, Jonas merely followed O'Neill's lead, trusting in the man's skill - or perhaps luck - to get them to safety.

Then he felt O'Neill trip and both of them fell. As suddenly as it started, the wind stopped and Jonas remained where he was. He rolled to his back and pulled up his shirt to try and wipe the dust from his eyes. He heard O'Neill's ragged coughs and knew that the man was alive. "Colonel?"

"I knew the exhaust ports were a bad idea," O'Neill said, his voice choked and raspy.

"Those were the engines?"

"Those were the engines."

"Why would they fire up the engines?"

"Probably so they would have enough power for the shields," he answered.

"Shields?"

"I'm guessing the shields are why we're not being baked right now." Jonas heard a fumbling sound and opened his eyes to see a flashlight beam sweep across the ceiling.

Jonas sat up, realizing that he had managed to keep his own light. He swept it around the room, looking for some sign as to where they were. The room was utilitarian and bare, consisting of little more than matte black walls and a dust covered floor. Dust motes danced in his flashlight beam. He caught sight of something on the floor and he aimed his light at it, studying the odd form for several seconds before he realized what he was looking at. "Aah, Colonel..."

O'Neill trained his light beam beside Jonas' "Ewwe," he said.

He got to his feet and walked closer to the mangled remains. Jonas followed suit, swallowing convulsively as he got closer. "What happened?" he asked as O'Neill knelt down.

"This looks just like that body T and I found."

"It does?" Jonas asked.

O'Neill got to his feet and nudged the corpse lightly with the tip of his boot. "This one is just a few centuries fresher," he said, making a face.

"That looks like a Denialist uniform," Jonas said, trying to make out the details of the remnants of clothing through the dried blood and gore. "According to Ashwan's spies, the Denialists haven't gained access to the ship."

"Unless this happened since we left the Prometheus."

"Would Colonel Ronson have broken radio silence to tell us?" Jonas asked.

O'Neill shrugged. "Who knows? Maybe he did and we were so far under the rocks that the signal couldn't get through."

"What do we do now?" Jonas asked, not sure how this development changed their plans.

"It doesn't matter if the captors have changed, the captives are still the same. We find Carter and Teal'c and get them out of here." O'Neill checked his weapon. "The main body of the ship is that way." He pointed down the corridor. "Let's be as stealthy as we can...unless you happen to see something that looks like it could tear a man to shreds. Then we'll shoot first and ask questions later."


/////


The door to his office slammed open and Kalfas reacted, one hand dropping to the weapon he wore at his waist.

"Apologies, Commander," Rysler his aide huffed. "He insisted."

"They have activated the engines," the man blurted out, pulling his hat off his head as a gesture of respect as he stepped sideways, trying to avoid Rysler's hands.

Two guards appeared behind Rysler and Kalfas waved them back. "Who are you and why are you here?"

"My name is Tarmas Lahron. I serve with Commandant Merla. We are assigned to the Wastelands of Anhur," he replied breathlessly.

"Are you saying that the Followers have powered the ship?" Kalfas asked, getting to his feet.

"Yes," Lahron replied. "And there is more. Men have disappeared."

"Deserters," Rysler spat.

Kalfas glared at his aide. Rysler was an older man, rail thin and with leathery skin. He had served forty annuals in the army and was one of the few to reach such a milestone. Kalfas hadn't hired him out of pity or sympathy - rather to gain access to his astute senses and irreplaceable knowledge. The old man possessed definite and very strong opinions, that sometimes disagreed with Kalfas' own. But he had never lied. And Kalfas found that he much preferred the company of a person that would disagree to his face, than lie behind his back.

"These men would not desert," Lahron said. "We have also heard sounds, horrible screams and cries. Commander, there is something else out there." He looked Kalfas in the eyes. "Something worse than even our nightmares." Rysler snorted in derision.

"Stories do not interest me," Kalfas said. "But this time the Followers have gone too far." Kalfas gathered a few things off his desk. "Rysler, gather my men. It is time for the nonsense in the Wastelands to come to an end."


/////


Sam put one last butterfly bandage on the woman's forehead and leaned back to survey her work. "That should help," she said, hoping to reassure the woman. "There's probably going to be a scar but-"

"I am alive," the woman interrupted. "And any scar is a mark of my survival." Not able to come up with a response, Sam merely smiled. She patted the woman's arm reassuringly and got to her feet.

She glanced around the opulent chamber, searching for her next patient. Many of the injuries had been relatively minor, cuts and bruises and a few broken bones. But others were far more serious.

Sam slowly walked over to one couple. A woman knelt beside a man Sam guessed was her husband. She knelt at his other side and reached out to pick up his arm so that she could check his pulse. "Horus waits to take him," the woman said softly. She gently caressed his forehead, brushing his hair.

His pulse was slow and Sam checked his pupils, sighing when she saw that one reacted more slowly than the other. "Subdural hematoma," she whispered to herself.

"What?" The wife looked up.

"I think I know what's wrong with him," Sam said.

"But it cannot be healed," the woman said, resigned to her impending widowhood.

Sam bit her lip, not wanting to tell the woman that her husband COULD be treated, if they just had access to the SGC or even Doctor Read's infirmary on Prometheus. Unable to meet the woman's eyes, Sam looked away, her gaze settling on an orange and golden device resting awkwardly in her first aid kit.

Shabla had meant well when she'd gathered up their belongings in search of a first aid kit. But she'd also brought back plenty of unnecessary stuff, including the ribbon weapon and healing device Tarek had brought for them to study. Sam picked up the healing device and stared at it, memories washing over her.

The last time she's attempted to use the healing device had been on Daniel. And it'd been a spectacular failure, her efforts not helping him but sending him into painful convulsions.
That had been a year ago and she'd sworn never to touch the device again.

"Can that help him?" the woman asked, pulling Sam from her memories.

"I don't---the last time I tried to use this, it didn't work so well," Sam said.

"My husband is dying," she woman said bluntly. "I do not think anything could be worse than that."

Sam sighed, unable to ignore the simple plea in her voice. She slid the device on he right hand and held it over the man. She closed her eyes and willed her energy into the device. From her scattered memories of Jolinar, she knew that there were two ways to work it. She could use her knowledge to direct the device or she could simply give it her energy and let it diagnose and repair any damage.

Of course, if her diagnosis was wrong, she could end up killing the man by not fixing the right thing. Directing the device was the most efficient way to use it, since she could reserve her energy and only heal the parts that needed to be healed. But if she let the device direct itself, it WOULD heal the man. But it would also heal any and everything - wasting energy on trivial and non-life threatening injuries.

The latter was the hardest on the healer, but it was the best chance she had to save the man.

Sam felt her energy gather in her chest, pooling and swirling until it flowed down her arm, feeding the device. She never knew if it was real or if it was her imagination, but she could 'see' the wound healing. The bruise on the man's brain shrunk and faded as the tears in injured blood vessels mended and sealed.

She could see the man's body reabsorbing the pooled blood, relieving the pressure on his brain. Blackened and bruised tissue turned a healthy pink and Sam opened her eyes, meeting the befuddled brown eyes of her patient. "You're gonna be okay now," she said, hoping to reassure him.

His wife cried and pulled him close while Sam leaned back, slowly getting to her feet. A hand tentatively touched her arm and she turned her head. "Can you help my wife?" a man asked.

"I can try," she answered, following him over to another pallet.

Jack slowly made his way down the dark corridor, his and Jonas' steps echoing slightly off the dusty walls. Dust motes danced lazily in the beams of their flash lights and the air was musty and still.

They arrived at a junction and Jack paused for a second before turning to the right.
"Umm, Colonel." Jack turned back to look at Jonas. "This is the way to the upper levels."

"I know. But we're going to the engine room first."

"We are?"

"If I want an answer of why the engines are online, our best chance of finding that out is in there."

"Okay," Jonas agreed.

Jack sighed softly and wished that he had anyone but the Kelownan with him. Jonas meant well, he really did. And he tried. Jack had to give him that much. He really tried. The alien had spent hours with Carter and Teal'c, training and drilling on military procedures. He was doing everything he could to fit in and be a part of the team. Jack couldn't fault him for his enthusiasm.

But Jack didn't think that he could be blamed for wishing that he had someone with more experience watching his six at the moment.

The pair of them crept down the corridor, Jack's P-90 held ready. As they approached the engine room, Jack could see a faint light spilling out the open door. He held up his fist, signaling for Jonas to stop. He could see the light, but he couldn't hear much over the distinct hum of the engines.

But he could smell something.

He found it morbidly fascinating that people never realized that blood had a distinct smell. Sharp and metallic and slightly sweet. Maybe it was because most people were never around a large enough quantity of spilled blood to ever notice its unique aroma. But it was a smell that Jack was all too familiar with.

And it was a scent that he smelled now.

He motioned for Jonas to kneel and he did the same, holding his weapon over his head to sweep the flashlight's beam around the corner. He picked out the shadowy form of at least two bodies on the floor, and heard the distinct snap hiss of a staff weapon arming. "Teal'c?" he called out, taking a chance that his friend was the only Jaffa in the Hatak.

"O'Neill?"

"Yeah, you okay?"

"It is safe to enter."

Jack glanced back at Jonas then he turned his attention back to Teal'c. He again peered around the open door, this time slowly sweeping his flashlight around the room. The beam lingered briefly on two figures on the floor before settling on Teal'c. Seeing that the Jaffa wasn't under duress, Jack got to his feet and entered the room, his weapon at the ready.

"Check those two out," he ordered Jonas as he made his way to Teal'c's side.

"O'Neill," Teal'c said, his staff weapon at his side. "It is good to see that you are well."

"Jonas did a good job of dragging my ass back to Prometheus. What the hell happened to you?" Jack looked his friend up and down, noting the series of deep gashes across his chest and legs.

"That creature attacked us."

Jack looked to Jonas and the man shook his head. "It and Marshak are dead," he said.

"At least you got it in the end," Jack said, pulling his first aid kit out of his pack. He started to dress Teal'c's wounds, starting with the most serious looking gashes on the man's thigh. As far as they were from the SGC and Prometheus, Jack could only hope that Teal'c could hold out until the Tretonin kicked in and helped to heal some of the injuries.

"It was a most formidable creature," Teal'c said. "And one that I have never seen before."

"It almost looks human," Jonas said. He was standing over the corpse, shining his light upon it. "Or at least humanoid."

Jack secured the last dressing and got up, joining Jonas and examining the creature. It had claw like feet with two inch long pointed nails. Its legs were long and muscular, covered in dark skin and short coarse hair. The hair grew thicker on the creature's torso, now looking more like a pelt. Its arms were as sinewy as its legs but instead of fingers, it's hands were tipped with thick and long claws.

Jack examined its head, not surprised to see a short snout and a large jaw full of sharp looking teeth. "If we were on Earth, I'd call this a werewolf," Jack said.

"Werewolf?"

"Half human, half wolf," Jack explained.

"I've never heard of those before," Jonas said. "Maybe Sam was right and I should watch more than the weather channel."

"You'd need to be watching the monster channel for this one," Jack said. "Werewolves don't exist." He nudged the corpse at his feet with his boot. "If the goa'uld imported something like this to Earth, I can see where the legend came from. I just hope we never run into the home planet of this thing. Silver bullets are gonna be a bit hard to requisition."

"What if we already have?"

Jack shook his head. "That's one requisition that I'd remember."

"No, I mean, what if we're already on the creature's home planet?" Jonas clarified.

"You think these things came from here?" Jack asked.

"I have heard tales of many monsters, but none such as this," Teal'c said, still sitting beside the control console.

Jack shook his head again. "If the desert was teeming with man eating monsters, you would think that Kalfas or Ashwan would have said something."

"Not if they didn't know it was here," Jonas said. "Colonel, until a few months ago, no one had any reason to come out here. Not until we found the Stargate and they found the Hatak. If there's a good enough food source, there'd be no reason for the creatures to go anywhere near the city."

Jack nodded. "We'll talk to Ashwan when we get out of here. Right now, let's track down Carter and get the hell out of here." He moved back to Teal'c and helped the Jaffa to his feet. Jonas moved to the man's other side, offering his support.

"What about Marshak?" Jonas asked.

"There's nothing we can do for him. We'll send people back to retrieve the body," Jack said.

"Major Carter is on the Peltac," Teal'c said.

"Does this have something to do with the engines and the shields?" Jack asked.

"An explosion weakened the rock structure around the Hatak. There were several cave-ins and many were injured. Major Carter sought to activate the shields to protect the ship and those within it."

"And you needed engine power," Jack said.

"Yes. Marshak Anon and I came down here to activate the engines."

"And he ended up monster food. Do you think that there are more of those things around here?"

Teal'c shook his head. "It has been several hours since we were attacked. If there were more creatures, I would have expected them to scavenge the remains."

"Or they are outside the shield and can't get in," Jonas suggested.

Jack shrugged. "What's our reception likely to be?" Jack asked, seeking a threat assessment. He wanted to rescue his people, and he WAS going to rescue his people, but he didn't want to start World War Three while he was at it. And he was not going to hand Bretan three more hostages.

"Marshak banished Bretan soon after the attack. I do believe that he is cowed, however I cannot be certain how he will act once word of Marshak's death spreads. If we can make contact with Tarek Solamun, he will grant us safe passage to retrieve Major Carter."

"Aren't we trapped in here with the shields up?" Jonas asked.

Jack shook his head. "I don't know. Maybe Carter can rig something. Or maybe we can drop them long enough to ring outside the ship. We'll cross that bridge when we get there. We're going to take the back halls until we get closer, try to fly under the radar. Teal'c, you may have to go in alone. Maybe tell people that Marshak is injured. If we're lucky, that'll distract them long enough for all of us to slip away."


/////



Tarek walked around the chamber, doing all he could to keep his footsteps light and quiet. All around him, people slept. Some were the injured and their families, others had been healed by Major Carter but wished to remain in Lord Horus' quarters for fear of another collapse.

The woman had truly worked miracles, healing those that were destined to die. He did not fully understand how the device worked, nor did he fully understand how she'd been able to make the device work. But he was grateful to her for the lives she'd saved. It had done wonders for the morale of the Followers and restored their hope that they were not doomed to perish.

There were a few that had even tried to elevate the woman's status. They were in awe of her ability to use the healing stone and some muttered amongst themselves that she had to be a descendant of Horus, or perhaps an agent of his, sent to deliver them from their current home and unto the promised land.

Tarek knew better. He knew the stories of the goa'uld and he knew full well that his Lord Horus was no benevolent god. But that was not a topic to be broached now. The Followers needed the strengths of their beliefs to sustain them through their trials.

"Tarek? Tarek, help me!"

Tarek hurried towards the voice, barely noticing that a few of the sleeping were rousing. He jogged into the corridor and then hurried more, assisting Lyta as quickly as he could. "He came into the control area," she said breathlessly, supporting Teal'c as she struggled towards the room. "He was looking for Major Carter."

"You are injured," Tarek said, noting the man's blood stained and torn clothes. One arm was wrapped loosely over Lyta's shoulders while his other hand grasped his weapon, using it as a support.

"I will survive," Teal'c said. "Where is Major Carter?"

"She is within. She is well. Where is Marshak?" Tarek asked, looking past Teal'c for some sign of his leader.

"He has not returned," Teal'c said.

The three of them entered the room and Tarek guided Teal'c towards a chair, motioning at the man currently sitting in it to get up. Teal'c sank down, his eyes surveying the room. "Lyta, Major Carter is over there," Tarek said, motioning towards a pallet in the corner.
"Please wake her so that Teal'c may be reassured that she is well." Lyta did as she was bid and Tarek looked to Teal'c. "Marshak?" he asked softly.

"He is still in the engine room," Teal'c said. Tarek frowned at the man's careful words.

"Teal'c." Tarek looked up to see Major Carter coming towards them. She was rubbing her face as if she hoped that the action would assist her in shaking off the vestiges of sleep.
"What happened? Are you all right?"

"My injuries are not life threatening," he said, his tone reassuring. "They are a mere inconvenience."

"They'll be less than that. Hang on a second." She left them and made her way to her pallet, returning in a few seconds with the healing stone in her hands.

"Major Carter." He held out a staying hand.

"It's okay, Teal'c," she said, smiling a bit. "I've had a little practice."

Tarek watched as the woman slid the stone on her hand. She closed her eyes and an orange beam spilled from the device, bathing his leg in light.

Teal'c tensed for a moment, then relaxed. She repeated the procedure a few more times until Teal'c reached out and wrapped his hand around her wrist. "That will be most sufficient, Major Carter," he said. "The tretonin will take care of the rest."

She smiled and nodded, slipping the stone off her hand. "Tarek, you need to let us go," she said, looking up at him. "This isn't our fight."

"But you have assisted us," he protested.

"To save our lives, and to save the lives of innocent civilians. But this isn't our battle. It's only a matter of time before Colonel O'Neill and the Prometheus comes to get us. Trust me, you don't want to be on their wrong side," she warned.

"You are the only hope that my people have," Tarek said. "Many would have died today had you not been here to assist them."

"Tarek, I'm glad that we could help, but we can't stay," Major Carter said, getting to her feet.

"We shall let Marshak decide when he returns," Tarek said resolutely.


/////


Colonel William Ronson walked into engineering, not minding when none of the personnel noticed his arrival. They were, after all, under orders to get the hyper drive fixed as quickly as possible. And that was more important than protocol.

"Sir," Sergeant Stark said, coming to greet him.

"Status report," Ronson asked.

"About six more hours, sir," the man reported, using a rag to wipe off his grimy hands.
The man's sleeves were pushed up and Ronson could see that the dirt and grime didn't just stop at his hands. His arms, uniform and even face was marked with dirt and oil. Ronson picked up the sharp twang of sweat and knew that his engineer had been working non-stop since they'd retrieved the parts from the Stargate two days ago.

"We'll be ready on schedule, sir," Stark said. "We're going to start running the last of the diagnostics within the hour."

"Good job," Ronson said, making a note to recommend Stark and his crew for a commendation.

"Bridge to Ronson." Ronson heard the page and instinctively looked up.

"You can take it over there, sir," Stark said, motioning towards a console.

Ronson nodded and walked over to the console. "Ronson here."

"Sir, I have Chairman Ashwan on the radio. He says that he needs to speak to you immediately," Lieutenant Meyers said.

"Put him through," Ronson ordered. He heard the static sound of a transmission.
"Chairman?"

"Colonel. I apologize for being brief, but I do not dare to talk to you for very long," Ashwan said, speaking quickly. "I have just been informed that Commander Kalfas' troops have begun to move. We estimate that the number of troops surrounding the ship will triple within a matter of hours."

"Do you know what their plans are?" Ronson asked.

"Not for certain, no. However, they are transporting a significant amount of heavy armament. Our tacticians theorize that they are either seeking to destroy or to take control of the ship. I must warn you, Colonel, while we will tolerate the former, we cannot permit the latter." The man's tone was still unfailingly polite, but resolute and Ronson knew that, despite their desire to know and learn about their past, they weren't in the position to fight for it.

"What are you going to do?"

"While I cannot divulge my government's plan, I can reassure you that any troop movement that you may see is not directed towards you. Please do not interpret it as an act of aggression. But I also need to warn you that any events that are about to transpire are no concern of yours. Please do not attempt to offer assistance and we shall make every attempt to leave your ship unscathed."

"What about our people?" Ronson asked.

"I have informed my troops about the hostages, however I cannot take any responsibility for anything that may happen to them. Now Colonel, I must end this conversation. I hope to speak to you soon."

"Something tells me that the sooner we get this bird in the air, the better," Stark said, speaking up as the radio fell silent.

"Your something is right," Ronson affirmed. "Let me know as soon as we're flight ready."

"Aye, Aye, Skipper," Stark quipped.

Ronson shot the man a tolerant glare and then left engineering. He made his way up to the bridge, deciding his next course of action as he walked. "Lieutenant Meyers," he said as soon as he stepped onto the bridge. "Break radio silence. I need to speak to Colonel O'Neill."



/////



Teal'c sat next to Major Carter, watching as the refugees moved around the room. He could not avoid noticing the curious and speculative looks shot their way. "It would appear that you have made friends," he said softly, glancing over at his teammate.

"What? Oh, I don't think I'm what they'd call a friend," she replied. Lyta had brought them some food - a plate of bread, cheese and fruit - and the pair of them picked at it, taking turns. Teal'c raised his eyebrows as she pushed a piece of brown bread into her mouth. "I healed a few injuries. They're probably waiting for my head to spin and my eyes to glow," she said, quickly chewing and swallowing the piece of bread.

He studied her, noticing how her eyes didn't meet his, instead they remained focused on the plate or her hands.

He knew that this was the first time she had even attempted to use the healing device since her failed attempt to heal Daniel Jackson. In fact, he had been rather shocked to not only see her use it, but to see the casual nature with which she handled the device. It spoke to him of someone who had not only used the device, but used it with some success. "Have you not been attempting for many years to gain mastery over the device?" he asked.

"Mastery?" she snorted. "I'm no master. Hell, I'm damn lucky that I didn't kill someone." She sighed. "I just couldn't sit here and watch them die," she whispered. She looked up and shrugged. "Then again, maybe that wouldn't have been such a bad thing."

Teal'c frowned, the woman's words striking him as odd. Even when they fought their most sworn enemy, Major Carter never relished the deaths of their foes. She accepted the necessity and acknowledged the inevitability, but Death and killing were not aspects of her chosen profession that she embraced.

And if she disliked the death of an enemy, it made no sense for her to wish for the death of those 'caught in the crossfire', as O'Neill would say. Teal'c sighed softly. "You believe that if you had failed in your attempts to heal, then Tarek would not so enthusiastically wish to keep us here."

She shrugged. "Maybe they wouldn't want to keep us here if we didn't have a use."

"Our time amongst the Followers will soon come to an end," Teal'c said softly. She frowned and looked up at him. "I believe the Earth term is Prodigal Son," he prompted.

She stared at him for a few seconds, then smiled. "The Colonel and Jonas?" she whispered.

Teal'c inclined his head slightly. "We but wait for the appropriate opportunity. They are hiding nearby. I returned alone in the hopes of us making our escape unnoticed and without bloodshed."

"So, we're just going to leave these people?"

"The safety of Prometheus is the primary responsibility," he said, repeating O'Neill's words. Teal'c himself did not wish to leave the Followers vulnerable and alone, however he could not fault the decision to secure the Prometheus and its crew first. Earth could not afford to lose its only space ship to the chaos of another planet's civil war.

She nodded. "I was afraid that it'd play out this way," she said softly. "How do they plan to get off the ship?"

"O'Neill desires our input into that part of the plan."

"With the shields up, we can't ring out. And we can't walk out either," she said, unconsciously repeating O'Neill's assessment.

"Indeed."

She drummed her fingers on her thigh for a few seconds. "If I can get to the Peltac without them suspecting something, I can program the shields to drop for a few seconds. It would give us long enough to ring out. The problem is, ringing out into a cave could have an...unwelcome outcome." Teal'c raised his eyebrows. "If the walls are too close, there might not be enough room for the rings to materialize us. I'm not quite sure how it'd turn out...but it might not be pretty."

"I would not suggest that we egress through the ship's lower levels," he said. She looked up at him. "It is not a safe passage."

She glanced at his injuries but did not comment. Something for which he was grateful. Unlike his human friends, he drew no enjoyment from sharing the tales of his adventures. He knew that the occupants of the ship did need to know that there may be more monsters in their midst. However, given that they had been in this ship for several days and the only victim had been Marshak Anon, down in the very lowest levels of the ship. Which suggested to him that, as long as the Followers remained in the upper levels, they were safe.

"Okay, so the rings are out. So's the main door." She shrugged and looked away for a second before looking back. "The balconies."

"Major Carter?"

"You said that these ships have balconies. We can use them. The balconies will be inside the shield. Get some rope, rappel down, I can program the shields to lower at a certain time and we'll just walk right out of here," she said, smiling enthusiastically.

Teal'c smiled slightly, picking up a piece of fruit and eating it. He was glad that they now had a plan. And he knew that O'Neill would also be pleased. Now all they needed was for O'Neill to make contact with them, for them to find a way to escape Terak's custody and to leave this ship, preferably without doing harm to anyone.

"Our packs are in the corner," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Major Carter?"

"I asked Lyta to bring our stuff so that I could get the first aid kits. She grabbed everything. I don't know if we have enough rope to rappel all the way down, so it might help if we find the lowest balcony possible."

"That would be wise," Teal'c agreed.

"Okay," she said, sighing. "Now all we need to do is to find a way out of here and to rendezvous with Colonel O'Neill and Jonas."

A murmur swept across the chamber, growing in volume. Both of them turned to see what was going on as O'Neill and Jonas Quinn strode into the room. Teal'c saw O'Neill's eyes sweep the room, settling on him and Major Carter for a second before he continued searching. He nodded in recognition.

"Colonel O'Neill!" Tarek called out, stepping forward.

"Tarek, we need to talk," O'Neill said loudly, his hand resting on his weapon.

"That was disgustingly easy," Sam said, helping Teal'c to his feet.

"I do not understand. We have done nothing to threaten Commander Kalfas," Tarek protested, his voice echoing off the walls of the deserted Peltac.

Jack sighed and found a large wooden box. He sat down, gesturing dramatically. "You fired the engines."

"Which we only did to power the shields to protect the ship from the cave-ins caused by their bombs," Carter said, also taking a seat. Tarek and Teal'c did the same while Jonas fiddled with one of the computer consoles. Jack glanced at Carter, but she didn't seem
concerned, so he ignored Jonas.

"And Kalfas probably wouldn't have set off a bomb had the Followers not taken over the ship." Tarek opened his mouth and Jack held up his hand, silencing the man. "Which you wouldn't have done had they not been persecuting you. I know. The blame game is a waste of time and it still doesn't change the fact that Kalfas' army is bearing down on this position. And if what Ashwan told Ronson is true, the Protectionists aren't going to raise a finger to help."

The five of them were gathered on the Peltac, one of the few rooms that no one had claimed as their own, and one of the few rooms that they could secure and talk privately in.

"Even if we could convince these people to leave, we'd never get them across the desert," Sam said.

"There are too many women and children to move efficiently," Teal'c said.

"And injured," Sam corrected. "Of course, if all Kalfas really wants is this ship maybe-"

"My people will not abandon their temple," Tarek interrupted. "Many of them have waited their whole lives to see this."

"Tarek, Kalfas is likely going to blow this place to bits," Jack said. "If your people stay, they're gonna die."

"They would rather die within the Temple than surrender it," Tarek said.

"They're probably gonna get their wish," Jack said, rolling his eyes. Fanatics, he hated dealing with fanatics.

"Tarek, the 'God' to whom you are so loyal, is not only dead, even if he were alive, he would not repay it in kind," Teal'c said.

"You've said that all the Followers are here," Sam said. "If you let Kalfas bomb this temple, not only will your people die, your religion will die too."

"It is better to die with your convictions intact, than to surrender them for convenience," Tarek said. "Colonel, I know that you wish us only the best, however, after generations of hiding, my people can no longer lurk in the shadows, living in fear. We shall make our stand here, and if Horus demands that our lives be sacrificed, so be it."

"What if your people don't feel the same way?" Sam asked.

"We shall inform the people. Anyone that wishes to leave, may. I will not force them to remain. But I shall not leave. Not until Marshak tells us that we are to leave."

"It's not Marshak's decision, not anymore," Jack said.

Tarek shot him a look. "Teal'c said-"

"Marshak's dead," Jack said bluntly. "Some animal ripped him to shreds. Almost did the same to Teal'c. Whether you like it or not, it's your decision now."

"I think I know what did it," Jonas said, speaking up for the first time. They all looked at him. "They kept records." He pointed at the computer console.

Jack shrugged and got to his feet, leading the others over to Jonas' side. "What'd they keep records of?"

"Horus, or Heru'ur, as we know him, wasn't the only Goa'uld here," Jonas said, pushing buttons on the console. An unfamiliar male face appeared and Jonas looked at the others.

"Did I miss a memo? Cause I'm not recognizing this person," Jack said.

"Nirti," Teal'c said.

"Nerdy's a girl," Jack protested, looking again at the swarthy face Jonas had pulled out of the computer banks.

"Nirti has not always been in a female host," Teal'c said. "Several years ago, she was forced to abandon her male host for the one we knew," he explained.

"I never knew that Nirti and Horus were allied," Sam said.

"Goa'uld often base their alliances upon the potential for gain," Teal'c said. "Nirti most likely allied himself with whom ever would gain him the most profit."

"Or most subjects," Jonas said.

"You think she was experimenting on the Tagreans like she did Alobran's people?" Sam said. Jonas nodded. "But nobody's found one of her machines."

"Yet," Jack said. "Three fourth's of this ship's unexplored."

"It is possible that Nirti's laboratory facilities do not lie upon this ship, but in a subterranean facility like they did upon Hanka," Teal'c said.

"Does the record say how many of those things they might have made?" Jack asked. Having seen what the creatures did not only to the old body, but to Marshak and Teal'c, Jack didn't want to run into any of them. "Cause, you know, Kalfas' troops might be the lesser of evils if this ship is infested with giant man-eating things."

"If this is right, they made dozens," Jonas said. "But that was hundreds of years ago. What attacked Teal'c might very well have been the last of its kind."

"Sir, Nirti's experiments have a long standing reputation of being unstable. And I would imagine if there were too many of them around, the death toll would be a lot higher," Sam said.

"Or they're just staying to the lower levels," Jack said. "And it's a matter of time before they figure out that we have an all you can eat buffet up here."

"We can always seal off the lower levels," Sam suggested. "Lower the emergency bulkheads. Hope that if there's any more of them, they're on the other side of the doors."

"I think I know how to stop this," Jonas said, interrupting their discussion.

"What?"

"Colonel, I think I know how it all started and I think I know how to stop it."


/////


Marcin Reina paced tensely, his hand lingering on his weapon. He felt naked without his uniform and exposed standing in the middle of the desert with only darkness to protect them.

"This is not a wise action, Chairman," he said, his eyes scanning the horizon for some sign of movement.

"Yes, as you have said," Chairman Ashwan said, sighing from his place sitting on a rock.

"Kalfas' men could kill us where we stand, and it is unlikely that anyone will even find the bodies. All for the sake of some religion obsessed zealots," he ranted, aware that he was pushing the boundary of their relationship, yet unable to stop himself. He did not feel that they should be wasting their time here, seeking a private meeting with Kalfas - the man who just a few moons ago, attempted to start his own war. Their time would be better spent rallying their own troops to prevent the Denialists from taking custody of the ship -and its weapons.

"For the sake of avoiding a civil war," Ashwan said. "And if you do not wish to be here, please leave."

"While I may feel that you are being foolish, Chairman, my job demands that I protect you, even if I protect you from yourself," Marcin said.

"A noble gesture, although I warn you that he will not appreciate it."

Marcin spun, pulling his weapon from his holster as Kalfas walked close enough to be seen.

"If I wished you harm, you would be dead," Kalfas said dryly.

"Mister Kalfas, thank you for coming," Ashwan said, standing up and crossing over towards Kalfas.

"I am not sure why I am here," Kalfas said. "But I do know that I am quite busy at the moment so I do not have time for any lengthy speeches."

"Do you have time to attend a summit?" Ashwan asked.

"The time for talking is over," Kalfas said. "Perhaps if you had taken the time to talk when the off-worlders first arrived, events would not have transpired as they did."

"As I recall, you did not wish to talk, you only wished to fight," Ashwan said.

"That was my job...the job you took from me," Kalfas said.

"The job you gave away when you attempted to mutiny," Ashwan retorted. He sighed and deliberately calmed his voice. "Kalfas, for the sake of the friends we used to be, please come with me to this summit."

"The time for talking is over," Kalfas said. "It is now time for action."

"Yes, yes it is," Ashwan agreed. Before Marcin could react, Chairman Ashwan struck out, punching Kalfas in the face. The man fell heavily upon the sand, only a grunt escaping his lips.

"Chairman!"

"He was right, we have no time to talk," Ashwan said, shaking his hand and grimacing in pain. "Pick him up please, Mister Reina. We have an appointment to keep."


/////


"Look what the Jaffa dragged in," Colonel O'Neill said, nonplused by the glare Teal'c shot his way. Teal'c, now healed of his injuries, led a quintet into the peltac. Carter and Teal'c were just returning from escorting Ashwan and his group into the Teltac, the Chairman showing an amazing amount of trust, basically handing himself and Kalfas over into 'enemy' hands.

"Colonel O'Neill," Chairman Ashwan greeted. He glanced behind him. "I do hope that this summit is not something that we will regret."

Marcin Reina followed his boss, leading a very irate looking and gagged Kalfas while Sam brought up the rear, Colonel O'Neill's borrowed P-90 in her hands. Lyta and Tarek both got to their feet as Sam moved straight over to the sensor controls. "Carter?"

"Just like you thought, sir. Kalfas' troops are closing in."

"Where is Marshak Anon?" Ashwan asked.

"I lead the Followers now," Tarek said.

O'Neill nodded. "Jonas, you're on."

"Colonel?"

"The Readers Digest version of what you just spent the last two hours telling me," he explained as he motioned for Teal'c to remove Kalfas' gag and to untie him.

Jonas nodded. "Right, umm...okay, a few hundred years ago, all of your ancestors were slaves to Horus. Your ancestors," he pointed at Tarek. "Were likely workers for the goa'uld. That's how they operate. They can't do everything themselves, so they recruit people from among the local population to take care of them, wait on them..."

"They call them Lotar's," Sam said. "Body servants, cooks, dishwashers." She shrugged. "It would take dozens or hundreds to run a ship this big."

"Your ancestors." Jonas pointed at Kalfas and Ashwan. "Were probably slaves in the naqahdah mine. That's what else the goa'uld do. They use the people on the planets they conquer like a resource. Your people were probably worked until they died."

"It sounds like we had a good reason to rebel," Kalfas said.

"Probably more than you know," Jonas said. "Tarek has been helping me search through the computer data bases and through some records that he had with him. When the slaves," he winced apologetically. "Rebelled, they did it with a vengeance. According to Terak's records, the rebels systematically hunted and murdered every single Lotar they could find. That's why the Followers of Horus have been underground for so long. It was the only way they could survive."

"They were collaborators," Kalfas said. "They deserved to die."

"They survived," O'Neill interjected. "You can't judge them for what they did. Cause I'm willing to bet you'd do the same damn thing if the choice was getting food for your family or slaving your life away in a mine."

"They were hunted down," Tarek said. "Men, women, even children, they were all killed."

"But we think we know why," Jonas said. He crossed over to a shrouded figure lying on the floor and pulled back the blanket. Kalfas, Ashwan and Reina openly winced and Jonas even saw Major Carter glance away. Retrieving the corpse of the creature and Marshak had been what he and Colonel O'Neill had done - with some help from the Followers - while Major Carter and Teal'c escorted Ashwan, Reina and Kalfas into the ship.

"What is that?" Ashwan asked.

"We found this on the lower levels. Along with the body of Marshak Anon," O'Neill said.

"It's one of your ancestors," Jonas said. "Or maybe a descendant of one of your ancestors."

"I do not understand," Ashwan said.

"Horus wasn't always the only goa'uld here," Major Carter said. "They found evidence that one named Nirti was allied with Horus."

"Nirti?" Kalfas asked.

"She is a goa'uld who is obsessed with creating a hok'tar," Teal'c said.

"An augmented human, the ultimate host," Carter explained. "We've seen her experiments before. She's obsessed with telekinesis, super strength. The last experiments of hers we ran across...you could barely tell that they had once been human."

"This is right up Nirti's ally," O'Neill said, gesturing towards the corpse.

"She experimented upon her slaves?" Kalfas said.

"Chances are she experimented upon anyone she wanted to," Carter said. "Lotar or slave, it wouldn't have mattered to her." She shuddered slightly and Jonas glanced over at her, hoping to give her a reassuring smile. Both of them knew all too well just how ruthless Nirti was when it came to her experiments.

"This is why we rebelled," Tarek said.

"We?" Kalfas asked, his tone openly skeptical.

"The Lotars found out what Nirti and Horus were doing," Jonas said, picking up a scroll. "They spread the word amongst the other slaves and the rebellion began."

"You cannot know what happened," Kalfas said while Ashwan stepped forward, reaching out to look at the scroll himself.

"Not all of the Followers were murdered," Tarek said. "Some survived."

"Chances are, those that were captured, were kept alive," Carter said. She motioned at the computer consoles surrounding them. "With Nirti and Horus gone, along with whatever Jaffa survived, they were likely the only ones that knew how to work the technology on the ship."

"They were," Jonas confirmed. "What Followers that survived the first purge were rounded up. They were used to move the ship here, to blast the hole in the ground and to get it ready to be buried. Then they were killed."

"But why?" Ashwan asked. "They were no longer a threat."

"Yeah they were," O'Neill said, looking at Kalfas.

Kalfas stared at him for a few seconds then looked away for a second. "We had to," he said. "We had no choice. We knew what horrors Horus was hiding in this ship. Horrors that the Followers were determined to recreate out of loyalty to their lord." He sneered the word, glaring at Tarek.

"We had no knowledge of the horrors," Tarek said. "Not until my ancestors carried word of them to your ancestors. Our Lord kept these activities secret, even from us. If we had known..."

"What did you do?" Ashwan asked, ignoring Tarek's distress.

"The same thing your ancestors did," Kalfas shot back. "We exorcised the evil that was taking over our world. We made sure that it could never be recreated by silencing any that knew of its existence."

"You knew?" Jonas asked.

Kalfas turned to look at him. "I knew that my ancestors committed acts that they refused to speak of. Acts that haunted them, yet were as necessary as breathing." He glanced down at the corpse. "We never believed that it was real."

"I do not understand," Marcin Reina said.

"Nirti and Horus were experimenting on your ancestors, changing them into monsters," Carter said.

"They were attempting to create the ultimate soldier," Teal'c said. "And since their experiment was a success, they would have continued, likely turning every one on this planet into a creature just like that one."

"I'm guessing that the slaves told Kalfas' and Ashwan's ancestors, who led the rebellion. What they couldn't anticipate was that, once the goa'uld were evicted, the rebels turned on them," O'Neill said. "Probably doing everything the could to eradicate every last trace of the goa'uld."

"And every experiment," Jonas said. "Anyone that was in any way, touched by the goa'uld, they killed."

"That's murder," Ashwan said.

"It is." Teal'c said. "But it is also survival. Such a creature, even just a few, would quickly decimate the population of a planet." He sighed. "The slaves were but...unfortunate bystanders, caught up in the eradication."

"It was genocide," Carter said. "Genocide that Kalfas' ancestors were so ashamed of that they erased it. They rewrote their history and did everything they could to forget that it had ever happened. What they didn't count on was people like you, Chairman." She looked at Ashwan. "People who weren't content to simply accept the rewritten history and who would later question it."

"If this was true and Horus and this Nirti had an army, then why have we not had dozens, hundreds of unsolved deaths?" Ashwan asked.

"Because I think only a few of those things survived. And they've been trapped inside this ship for a few centuries," O'Neill said. "It's likely that the Followers let it out when they found and adopted this ship." Kalfas glared at Tarek. "And before you blame them, if you had just shared your knowledge instead of hiding from it, people would have known that this threat existed," O'Neill said.

"We forced them to hide," Ashwan said. "Both of us," he said to Kalfas.

"You may think that the Followers want this ship as a weapon, but they don't," Carter said. "They just want somewhere to live."

"If not for their worship of Horus--"

"You all would be like that thing over there," O'Neill interrupted. "If they hadn't spread the word, you wouldn't have known to rebel until after you had an army of these things to fight."

"And you repaid them by genocide," Teal'c said.

"Do not condemn me," Kalfas said, staring at Ashwan. "Your ancestors are just as guilty as mine."

"I think there's enough guilt to go around," Carter said.

"What matters is what you guys are going to do next," O'Neill said. "Are you going to finish what Horus and Nirti started, or are you going to survive and move on?"

"How do you suggest that we move on?" Ashwan asked.

"The Followers want to keep this ship," O'Neill said. "They don't want any weapons," he said quickly to Kalfas' glare.

"We know what the weapons are, Tarek has agreed, we can disarm them and remove them. The only thing we'll keep running is the power to run the environmental systems and the shields to protect it from rock falls. All he asks is that you guys leave him and his people alone."

"And us?" Kalfas asked. "What grand plan do you have for us?"

"We have a saying on Earth, those that do not remember the past are doomed to repeat it," Carter said. "Mister Kalfas, I think you and your people know more about what happened on this planet than anyone else. Maybe if you and Tarek worked together, somewhere between the two sides of the rebellion is the truth. A few hundred years ago, ALL of you worked together to free Tagrea from the goa'uld. Maybe if you all work together now, you can find a way to put this planet back together."

"There's a lot of cool stuff in here," O'Neill said. "We can help you understand it all. Tarek just wants this ship as a refuge for his people, he's more than willing to share the information in the ship's computer."

"There's information in here that can help ALL your people," Jonas said. "Medical information, technological advancements. Things that can help the whole planet."

"And Tarek is willing to share all this?" Reina asked skeptically, his voice slightly hesitant, as if he wondered if it was really his place to speak up.

"Yes," Tarek said. "We have no need to hoard information. We will gladly and freely share. All we want is a place to live in peace."

"What about these monsters?" Ashwan asked. "What if more of these creatures lurk in the belly of this ship?"

"We can use the internal ship sensors where they work. And if we drop the shield, the Prometheus can scan the ship for life signs," Carter said.

"I'll even round up some Marines to help you sweep it," O'Neill said. "I think the one thing we can all agree on, no matter how much a victim these things are, they're too dangerous to allow to survive."

"And your 'fee' for your assistance?" Kalfas asked. "Will you be relieving us of the weapons you find?"

"Only if you let us," O'Neill said. "If not, we'll destroy them, nice and publicly if you want. Tarek has agreed that we get a copy of the database, just like you guys will get."

Kalfas and Ashwan looked at each other. "I cannot answer until I have spoken to my people," Ashwan said.

"Nor can I," Kalfas agreed.

"In the interests of a good faith gesture, I do think that we can withdraw our troops, however," Ashwan said. "Presuming that Mister Kalfas agrees."

"You have my word, we shall not attempt to harm you, or your men," Tarek said. "I will even go with you as a hostage if it would ease tensions."

Still Kalfas hesitated.

"Mister Kalfas, everyone thinks that you're the villain here," Jonas said. "But you're not. Your people did what very few planets have ever done, they overthrew a goa'uld. It's not something to hide, it's something to be proud of."

"And will they remember that pride when we are put on trial for genocide?" he asked.

"I believe, if we look closely enough, no one is blameless," Ashwan said. "I shall stand beside you," he declared. "As Mister Quinn has said, all of our ancestors fought this battle. If there is to be any blame, we shall all share in it."

"Commander," Jonas said as Kalfas hesitated. "On my home planet...I don't even know if I still HAVE a home planet because the last time I was there, the three factions were ready to go to war with each other...over things that happened so long ago we don't even remember what they were. I don't want that to happen here."

"Very well," Kalfas finally said. "I can TENTATIVELY agree to a truce. As much as I personally believe that the past is best left in the past, perhaps the gain will outweigh the risk."


/////


General George Hammond studied the group of people around the table, then he glanced down at the report lying on the table. "So you would call the situation on Tagrea to be stable?" he asked.

Jack shrugged. "As stable as it can be. The Followers are perfectly content to set up housekeeping in the ship."

"We have the environmental systems online, water reclamation and waste disposal. We've also got the heating and cooling systems online," she reported.

"And the engines?"

"They'll never have enough power to get the ship off the ground, even if they could. But we rigged the shields to a minimal level to protect the ship. Our estimates are that the ship can support up to three hundred people for about five years before they'll need more fuel. That's presuming that they practice conservation techniques."

Hammond nodded. "And the weapons?"

Jack shook his head. "All we found were some staffs and zats. The ship's main weapons systems were destroyed, probably during the rebellion."

"As per our agreement, we removed the power supplies of the weapons, rendering them relatively harmless," Teal'c said.

"They could beat someone to death with them if they wanted to, but they could do that with any old piece of lumber," Jack said.

"Tarek also wanted to keep them as artifacts," Jonas said.

"And the creatures?"

"They let us bring back the one that Teal'c killed," Sam said. "Doctor Frasier is going to autopsy it."

"We used Prometheus to scan the ship and didn't find any others," Jack said. "We offered a troop of Marines to help them sweep the Hatak, but I don't know if they'll take us up on it."

Hammond nodded. "We'll cross that bridge if they make the request."

"After she scanned the Hatak, the Prometheus made it into orbit safely. We got their hyper drive online and they should be back to Earth in a couple of days," Sam said.

"Ronson offered us a ride but...I heard rumors about a drill or ten," Jack said, rolling his eyes.

"Besides, we needed to retrieve this," Sam said, motioning at a tray of six data crystals.

"Tarek was true to his word," Jonas said.

"That is the whole database?" Hammond asked.

"Every byte," Sam said. "It'll take us months to go over all this."

"And I understand that you promised the Tagreans a copy?"

"Yes, sir," Jack said. "We're their objective third...fourth party."

"Anything pertaining to the rebellion and their history, we're going to hand over to them," Jonas said. "It'll be a way to double check their own translations."

"What about this whole salvage the ship garbage?" Jack asked.

"Has something happened to change your opinion that the ship was unsalvageable?" Hammond asked.

Jack shook his head. "The only way we'd get the Followers out of that ship would be to kill them."

"They were ready to die rather than abandon it when Commander Kalfas' troops surrounded them," Jonas said.

"General, there is no way to get that ship space worthy," Sam said. "Presuming we could have dug it out from under tons of rocks," She shrugged. "It would have been dicey before the rock falls. There are enough hull breeches that the ship will never fly again. The most we could have hoped for would have been to salvage the data banks. Which we did."

"Then that answer will have to suffice for Senator Kinsey," Hammond said. In truth, he certainly was not looking forward to the telephone conversation to come. But he trusted his people and their assessment. "Then I think the topic of salvaging the ship is closed," he said. He looked down at the report one last time then closed the folder. "I think this briefing is at an end," he declared. "Good job, SG-1. I believe your next mission is some time next week, so you are on downtime until then."

He got up, picking up his folder as the other people in the room got to their feet. Retreating into his office, he closed the door and sat down at his desk. Maybe this mission wasn't exactly what everyone wanted, but what everyone wanted didn't matter. His team was home and in one piece and that was what really mattered to him.


/////


Jack watched Hammond walk into his office, not relishing the task that the man had before him. At least they'd gotten what they'd set out for, the database of the ship, that should count for something.

"Do you think we can still make it?" he heard Jonas ask. Jack turned his attention back to his team.

"I don't see why not," Sam said "Presuming the weather is still good up top." She got to her feet and the rest followed suit.

"Still going to New Mexico?" Jack asked.

"We do have a long weekend, sir," Sam answered.

"Do you have room for one more?" he asked, giving into the impulse.

"Sir?"

"I haven't been to New Mexico in a long time either," he said, hoping that he was not pushing his welcome.

"I have never been to New Mexico," Teal'c said.

Sam looked at Jonas and shrugged. "More the merrier," she said.

"Sweet," Jack said. "How about 0900 tomorrow morning. I'll pick you up, then we'll come by the mountain and grab Jonas and Teal'c."

"Fine with me, sir. But you're driving." Jack frowned at her. "Unless you really, really like the backseat of my car."

Jack stared, his mind temporarily overwhelmed with all the comments he could make about the backseat of a car, and shouldn't. "Fine," he said, being sure to put the necessary amount of annoyance in his voice to disguise his enthusiasm. "I'll drive. Just no eating in the car. I value my upholstery too much."

"This will be so much fun," Jonas said, leading them out of the room. "The weather should be just perfect for the hike up to the ruins."

Jack glanced over at Sam, raising his eyebrow. "Hike?" he mouthed.

"Yes," she said, smiling broadly. "Didn't I tell you? This park has about thirty miles of hiking trails." She rubbed her hands together. "The good news is, I think he only wants to see about twenty of it."

She walked past him, hurrying to catch up with Jonas and Teal'c. Jack stared after them for a moment, then shook his head, resigning himself to his fate. When compared to going home to an empty house, a hike through the desert didn't seem all that bad.

~Fin~