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Desert Son              
by Kikkimax
 

"Hot off the presses, sir," Colonel O’Neill announced as he lead the way into the briefing room. "P49-7… 7…" he trailed off, shooting a silent query to his team for help. Sam and Daniel, both seemingly lost in various readouts and UAV photos, unintentionally ignored him.

"738," Teal’c finished smoothly.

Jack snapped his fingers as he lowered himself into a chair. "Thank you, Teal’c. 738." With a slight bow of acknowledgment, Teal’c found a seat as well.

"What have you got?" Hammond asked, settling in at the head of the table.

"Well, we haven’t really had time to work up a report," Daniel responded as he thumbed through the images and spread them out on the table as he studied them. "Like Jack said, the ink’s still wet, so to speak, and the pictures are unusually poor in quality."

"Yeah," Sam agreed. "I noticed that, too. We think the problem is environmental rather than our equipment..."

"People," Jack prodded gently to get them back on topic.

"Yes," Daniel continued, intentionally misinterpreting the request. "They’re human. I don’t see any evidence of Goa’uld occupation at this time or in the recent past, and I’m guessing late Bronze Age in development. Looks like a mostly agricultural civilization eking out a living on overworked farmland, nothing of particular interest there… but Sam’s got something urgent on the atmosphere?"

"Major Carter?" the general asked.

"Yes sir," Sam replied pulling her attention from the more or less raw data in her hand. "These readings are incredible."

"How so?" Daniel inquired.

"Well, for one thing, the UV radiation is abnormally high, which might explain the condition of the plant life. In the twenty-four hours the MALP has been there, the levels have spiked and receded several times."

"Sun flares?" Jack queried, leaning forward to glance over the Major’s shoulder.

"Massive ones," Carter readily agreed. "And 738 is much closer to its smaller sun than we are to Sol."

Jack nodded. "So the flares take less time to reach the planet."

"And they lose less of their intensity along the way, which also explains why we couldn’t get any decent pictures."

"Are the people in any danger?" Daniel asked with concern.

"It’s hard to say for sure without taking a closer look, but yeah, I would think so. In the long run anyway."

"We have to do something," Daniel declared.

"What can we do?" Hammond questioned the resident astrophysicist.

"About the sun? Nothing, unfortunately," Sam responded, reining in her enthusiasm considerably. "But if we could set up some monitoring equipment this could provide invaluable data about stars in general, sir."

"Should we not also endeavor to warn the native peoples?" Teal’c inquired.

"Warn them to what? Stick their heads in the sand? It’s not like we can evacuate a whole planet," Jack pointed out.

"Why not?" Daniel argued. "We’ve done it before."

"Right," Jack drawled. "We’ll just pop in and say, ‘Oh, by the way, your sun is on the fritz. You need to leave your homes and travel to another planet to start life all over again… all because we say so’."

"Well that certainly beats leaving them there to starve to death and die of skin cancer," Daniel retorted stiffly.

"You know how these primitive folk are, Daniel. We’ll never get ‘em close to the gate, let alone through it."

"I think we should be careful who we label as primitive."

"What kind of timetable are we looking at, Major?" General Hammond broke into the argument before it escalated.

Sam sighed. "Obviously this has been going on for some time, decades at least, probably longer. Just a wag, but the UV levels only started to reach dangerous proportions in the last year or so."

"Wag?" Daniel turned to ask Jack quietly.

"Wild ass guess," Jack supplied succinctly.

"Ah."

Sam ignored them and continued with her lecture. "Essentially, the star is becoming unstable, so it’s only going to get worse. Of course the planet will be unsuitable for life long before it actually goes nova."

"Are the current… whatever… levels high enough to hurt us?" Jack asked pensively.

"Short term, no," Sam responded. "But I wouldn’t want to hang out for too long."

"That’s encouraging," Jack muttered.

"Well I think Teal’c is right," Daniel insisted. "We have to warn the people. At least give them the opportunity to evacuate."

"If they want to," Jack corrected.

"If they want to," Daniel agreed. "What harm will it do to give them a choice?"

"Very well," Hammond allowed solemnly. "Let’s see if we can come up with an appropriate planet for relocation."

"So we have a go?" Jack asked.

"If, and only if the MALP still shows an acceptable level of radiation," Hammond allowed, "SG-1 has a go for thirteen hundred tomorrow for first contact."

"Pack your sunscreen, kids," Jack advised cheekily. "It’s gonna be a hot one."

"Carter, what’s the hold up?" Jack asked as he wandered into the control room. Down below Teal’c and Daniel looked up at them, waiting patiently at the foot of the ramp in front of the already open wormhole.

"Sorry for the delay, sir," Sam explained, "We’re having trouble with the MALP telemetry."

"The RV acting up again?"

"UV, sir," Sam corrected automatically with a knowing grin at her CO’s antics. "No, I’m afraid it’s electromagnetic interference from another solar flare affecting the MALP’s video feed…"

"Ack!" Jack warned, raising a finger. "Is it safe?"

"Well we can’t get a picture, but the UV levels are still reasonably consistent with our last readings."

"Colonel?" General Hammond inquired.

Jack shrugged his eyebrows. "I say we go, sir."

"Very well," Hammond granted. "Let us know if we can do anything from this end."

"What I mean is the people must be aware of the changes on their planet," Daniel was explaining to Teal’c as Jack and Sam joined them.

"So?" Jack ventured to ask.

"So this isn’t a sudden thing; crops have failed, people have become ill. They might very well listen when we tell them it’s time to move."

"Or," Sam debated, "The changes might have been so subtle that they didn’t notice them at all. If that’s the case, they won’t be inclined to abandon their homes."

"True," Daniel conceded with a sigh.

"Don’t worry, Daniel," Jack replied supportively, slapping his friend on the shoulder as they clattered up the ramp. "If anybody can BS a whole civilization enough to relocate to another world… it’s you."

Daniel snorted at the backhanded compliment. "Thanks, Jack, then all we have to do is round them up I guess," he retorted sarcastically as he stepped into the event horizon.

"You the man," Jack pronounced with a grin as he followed, waving the rest of the team onward.

Daniel stopped abruptly as he exited onto P49-738. Jack came through right behind him and ran smack into his back, all but knocking him off the dais.

"Daniel," Jack grunted as he grabbed the man’s arm to keep him from tumbling down the four shallow steps of the arrival platform. "Warn a guy!"

"Jack!" Daniel exclaimed, moving aside slightly to avoid another collision just as Teal’c and Sam stepped through, never taking his eyes off of the large crowd already gathered in front of the stargate.

Bedraggled men, women, and children in dirty, homespun clothing spread out before them. They pulled carts and led overburdened, underfed farm animals directly to the gate, lining up as if for departure. Even more apparent refugees spilled over the distant horizon in a continuous stream. As the wormhole disintegrated, the people setting up tents behind the gate dropped their tools and edged closer from the back side, effectively leaving the team nowhere to retreat if things got ugly.

"Hel-lo," Sam muttered, hefting her weapon slightly at the unexpected sight and turning to guard their left flank.

"Yeah, turns out a picture would have been nice," Jack agreed, subtly fingering the trigger of his own P-90, rotating enough to keep an eye on their right side. Beside him Teal’c lowered the tip of his staff weapon as he turned to watch their backs through the open gate.

"They don’t seem hostile," Daniel ventured hesitantly, staring open-mouthed at the equally stunned crowd. "Someone must have noticed the MALP. The opening of the gate might have religious significance to them. They do appear to be on some sort of… pilgrimage."

"Daniel," a hushed, alto voice murmured.

"Sam?" Daniel answered, turning slightly to spare a quick look at his female teammate.

"What?" Sam asked, briefly glancing back at him over her shoulder. "I didn’t say anything."

"You called me."

"That wasn’t me," Sam denied, still scanning the crowd for any sign of aggression.

"Somebody said my name," Daniel insisted.

"I heard it as well," Teal’c decried.

"Daniel," a man’s voice called tentatively from a little farther away.

"Okay, that definitely wasn’t you," Daniel agreed. "You don’t think they mean me, do you?" he asked worriedly.

"Nah," Jack assured, sounding somewhat less than certain. "Daniel’s a fairly common name around the galaxy, right?"

A new chorus of ‘Daniel’ sounded all around them, a little louder and a lot more urgent.

"Sure," Daniel half-heartedly agreed. "So is… Jack. Or Sam."

"Maybe Daniel is the name of their leader or something," Sam offered, as the increasingly desperate calls rose to near cacophony.

Looking a little apprehensive, Daniel stepped forward to the edge of the platform and raised his hand in a hesitant greeting. The mob slowly fell silent waiting for his words. "Hello," he began. "My name is…"

"Daniel," a scrawny, middle-aged woman finished for him, climbing the steps to drop at his feet.

"That’s, ah… that’s right. I’m Daniel Jackson and this is…"

"Desert Son," the woman continued, staring up at him with tear-filled eyes and a shaky smile.

"Excuse me?" Daniel asked, stopping in mid turn towards his teammates to introduce them. "Desert sun?"

"Desert Son!" someone from the crowd shouted, starting a mantra that rose in volume as it was picked up by the people further and further away until it rode the air on thousands of voices.

"Daniel?" Jack queried loud enough to be heard over the roar as the natives chanted.

"I have no idea," Daniel shouted back in bewilderment. Turning to the people who crowded together at the bottom of the steps he raised his voice to get their attention. "Excuse me!"

A wave of shushing rolled away from the gate but cries of ‘Desert Son’ could still be heard in the distance for several minutes.

"Please, get up," Daniel muttered, bending to slide a hand under the woman’s arm and pull her to her feet. "I don’t understand what’s going on here," he confided to her.

"Yes," she agreed simply, grinning broadly as tears flowed down her face. Tentatively, she reached out as if in awe and touched Daniel’s chest as he released her.

Other people pressed forward and crept up the steps, their hands snaking forward for timid touches to Daniel’s boots and lower legs while mixed whispers of ‘Desert Son’ and ‘Daniel’ echoed once again. Jack latched onto the back of Daniel’s jacket and pulled him closer to the rest of the team.

"We are ready, Desert Son," a shabby man proclaimed as he stepped forward and wrapped an arm around the thin woman’s shoulders.

"I think he means you," Jack advised the speechless linguist.

"I, ah… yeah… ready for what?" Daniel questioned, tilting his head quizzically. "Why have you gathered here?"

"You came to take us to another world. A place where our crops will not die in the fields, a place where our children may play in the sunlight, and we may grow old in peace," the woman responded. "You came to lead us. We are ready."

"They’re reading our minds," Daniel guessed quietly.

"Telepathy?" Sam questioned, unconsciously shaking her head in disbelief. "I don’t think so, not unless they’re precognitive as well."

Daniel shot her a look and turned back to the woman. "Yes, we have come to offer you a better place on a planet not damaged by the sun."

"Desert Son!"

"Okay, that’s getting a wee bit annoying," Jack blurted out.

"But how did you know to come here?" Daniel queried the crowd, leaning forward intently. "How did you know we were coming at all? How do you know my name?"

"It was written," the woman replied, bowing her head and once again dropping to her knees. The man followed and with a slow ripple effect, the natives bowed down as far as the eye could see.

"Well, that certainly clears things up," Jack replied turning in a leisurely circle to take in the staggering sight of the kneeling masses.

"What do we do?" Daniel asked, more than a little freaked out by his instant veneration.

Jack frowned as he considered the surrounding landscape. Every inch of ground not covered by people or livestock was occupied by the hastily plotted tent city behind the gate. "I guess we should contact Hammond and get a team to greet them on the other side."

"I don’t think there’s time for that, sir," Sam interjected. "The crowd seems to be continuously pushing forward. If we don’t open the gate soon there’s likely to be a crush, especially if they start to get restless."

"There were no people here this time yesterday," Teal’c agreed. "We have no way to know how many more will arrive in the time it takes to assemble a relocation team."

Daniel nodded vigorously. "The general wasn’t expecting a large scale exodus anytime soon."

"What are you saying?" Jack asked.

"Look, the people are already here and they do seem pretty cooperative… eager even. This puts us weeks ahead of schedule. Why don’t we just do it?"

"Sheesh. You sound like a Nike commercial."

"It would seem prudent under the circumstances, sir," Sam granted. "We could at least send enough through to ease the crowding a little."

"Indeed."

Jack pursed his lips and nodded in agreement at his team’s appraisal of the situation. "Okay. Sounds like a plan. Dial us up, Desert Son. PJ1… PJ1…"

"04," Teal’c completed the designation as he moved down the steps, clearing a path to the DHD.

"They say that memory is the first thing to go," Daniel commented sardonically as he followed Teal’c.

Jack glared at Daniel, but nodded for Carter to guard his back as they wound their way through the fixated mob. Sam fell in line quickly and flinched each time a hand shot up to steal a caress on Daniel’s leg or backside as he carefully picked his way along.

A general air of excitement grew and the people began to shuffle back to their feet, inching forward as they rose and pressing ever closer. As three-fourths of SG-1 neared the DHD, Daniel appeared a little rattled by all the attention. All the same, he made an effort to touch as many of the upraised hands as he could reach. He didn’t understand the significance, but the gesture seemed to mean a great deal to the ones he actually made contact with.

Jack moved over by the MALP to get out of the way and ensure no one inadvertently ventured back onto the dais. The position also offered an excellent view of the crowd and his team. "This could take a while," he mused, pulling out his binoculars to scan the enormous gathering of people.

"Yes sir," Sam agreed, standing directly behind Daniel as he prepared to dial. "Especially since we can only sustain a wormhole for thirty eight minutes at a time."

"Desert Son," Daniel murmured to himself, still puzzling over the strange moniker as he punched in the stargate address of the planet they had picked for the refugees.

Cries of amazement and joy rang out as the silver-tinged swoosh blossomed and settled into the iridescent blue pool. Then the crowd fell silent and no one moved.

"Okay. This is it," Jack announced. "There aren’t any steps on the other side, but you have to keep moving once you exit. We don’t want a pile up." He motioned the nearest people forward. No one budged. As one, they turned to look in Daniel’s direction. "Now what?" Jack asked irritably.

"And the Desert Son shall lead the way through the circle of light…" someone quoted.

"Ah for cryin’ out loud," Jack grumbled, fidgeting with his sunglasses. "Teal’c, you and Daniel head through."

Teal’c inclined his head and led the way back through the throng. A barely controlled exhilaration in the crowd increased to near euphoria as Daniel climbed the steps. He paused at the top and tried to take in the enormity of the task they were preparing to embark on. A sea of quiet, hopeful faces stared back at him, the soft mewing of animals and a strong smell of waste wafted in the hot, dry air.

"I think you’re supposed to say something profound," Jack advised.

"Nothing comes to mind," Daniel quoted dryly before disappearing into the event horizon, Teal’c hot on his heels.

Jack allowed a smirk at hearing his own words from another long ago mission. As he turned back, the crowd suddenly surged forward, each person weighed down with personal belongings, household goods, and whatever else they owned that could be carried. Cartloads of grain and heavy barrels of water groaned ominously as they were wheeled up the steps. This was a one-way trip and they knew it, and all without Daniel launching into the lengthy explanation he had prepared.

Retreating to the top of the MALP, Jack glanced over at Sam as the combination of humanity and beast plodded past them to funnel into the gate. "You okay?" he called out.

"Fine," Sam answered from a spot where the crowd steered around the DHD leaving her a tiny bubble of space.

Jack lifted one knee to rest a foot up on the crook of the MALP’s sturdy arm while leaning forward to settle his weapon on his thigh. "This is gonna take a while," he repeated to himself as he adjusted the brim of his cap against the unrelenting rays of the sun.

Sam checked her watch and made note of the time, then pulled a bottle of sunscreen from her pocket and reapplied.

"It’s SG-1’s IDC, sir," Sergeant Davis announced only moments after arriving for his shift.

Not having made it up to his office yet, General Hammond handed off his briefcase as he moved to stand behind the gateroom technician. "Open the iris," he ordered quietly.

"Yes sir."

The metal shield swirled away and a moment later a rather tired looking, pink in the face Major Carter stepped through. Hammond hustled down to the gateroom and met her at the door.

"Major?"

"Sir," Sam greeted with a wan smile. "The colonel sent me to give you a report."

"Is everything alright?" Hammond questioned as he ushered Carter toward the briefing room.

"Everything’s fine, sir," Sam assured as they walked. "In fact, the natives were waiting for us around the gate when we got there, packed up and ready to go. The evacuation has been underway for roughly seventeen hours."

"Well done, Major," the general praised. "We’ll get another team out there right away to help out while we make arrangements for some emergency supplies."

"That would be great, sir."

Hammond paused as they made their way through the crowded control room. "So the people were already on their way out?"

"Not exactly," Sam hedged, turning to face him at the bottom of the stairs. "They were waiting for us. Or more precisely, they were waiting for Daniel."

"To the best of my knowledge, SG-1 has never been to P49-738," Hammond stated with certainty.

"No, sir, we haven’t. It’s more complicated than that. From what we’ve been able to deduce in the short periods between evacuations, there was a… prophecy," Sam paused as every head in the control room swiveled to look at her. She grimaced sheepishly and sent a longing glance towards the stairs.

"Carry on, people," Hammond ordered and started up the steps. Sam sighed her relief and followed, not particularly wanting an audience for her strange tale.

"How’s it going?" Jack queried as Daniel stepped out of the event horizon for the umpteenth time in as many hours. Although the sun had only just risen, the heat was already beginning to climb, too.

"Surprisingly well," Daniel ventured, stopping to adjust the bandana on his head. "A few people seem to want to hang around, but they leave when I tell them to move along. In fact they all do exactly what I ask them to do without question. It’s a little unnerving."

"Well don’t get cocky. Some folks might let that power go to their heads," Jack teased as the wormhole sputtered out.

"Too tired to get cocky," Daniel grumbled starting towards the steps, knowing Sam had already headed back to Earth.

"I’ll get it," Jack volunteered, giving Daniel a gentle shove off to the side of the dais.

"You sure?"

"Shut up and rest for a minute."

"You sure you know the address?"

"I’m gonna pretend I didn’t hear that," Jack groused as he trotted down the steps, carefully avoiding the smeared patches of oxen dung that seemed to be spreading with each wave of evacuees.

"Have we made any progress at all?" Daniel asked, checking out the new faces in the morning light. As a whole, the crowd seemed relatively unchanged from the last batch. Or the one before that… or the one before that… and still they stretched to the horizon. The only real constant was the adoring gazes leveled unrelentingly in his direction. He tried to smile and gave a desultory little wave, causing a stir of exhilaration to ripple through the weary peasants closest to him.

"Patience, Danny," Jack soothed as he punched in the now well known coordinates. "It takes time to get to the promise land."

Daniel harrumphed as the stargate exploded with a new vortex. "You wanna be Moses for awhile?"

"Wouldn’t dream of stealing your thunder," Jack drawled happily. "Consider it your cosmic good deed for the year."

Feeling a little punch-drunk, Daniel couldn’t stop the smile that tugged at his lips as he moved to stand directly in front of the gate. "Cosmic good deed?" he questioned with a laugh.

Jack grinned back at him roguishly. "Okay, people, watch your step. This sh… stuff is slippery," he cautioned loudly. "We’re gonna have to hose this thing off somehow before too long or we’re gonna be knee deep in it," he added to Daniel, wrinkling his nose at the smell and knowing it was only going to get worse as the day wore on. "We got cow shit, chicken shit, horse shit… it’s a regular Raw Hide around here."

"Wagons… hooooo!" Daniel proclaimed with an exaggerated flourish of his arm as he turned and vanished through the gate.

With an amused smirk, Jack checked his watch and leaned on his elbows against the rim of the DHD to watch the hoard swarm by him. He already knew it was no use trying to strike up a conversation. As the fatigued populace finally reached the gate, they were too focused on passing through it to their new home to linger and talk. In fact, it was getting harder and harder to slow their progress between waves and he had his doubts that he could pull it off by himself. With a tired snort, he decided he would give himself ten minutes for the task this time and set the alarm on his watch for twenty-eight minutes instead of the usual thirty-five.

In spite of the never-ending stream of people, livestock, furniture and fowl, it belatedly occurred to Jack that the resettlement as a whole seemed to be going entirely too well. Luckily, a bony cow picked that exact moment to lift its tail and leave a deposit of used grass right next to him. Envisioning a rare steak, Jack shook off his boot and shifted farther to the right, feeling as if everything might turn out just fine after all.

Hammond grimaced as he watched the major happily down a glass of water from the carafe left over from the day before. It was still early and no one had even started the coffee brewing just yet, let alone refreshed the water supply.

Pouring herself the last half-glass, Sam settled into the chair on his right. "Sorry, sir," she mumbled apologetically.

"Prophecy, you say," Hammond prodded, wanting to get the report over quickly so his exhausted officer could get some food and much needed rest.

"Yes, sir," Sam answered with a barely-there scoff to her tone. "It seems that a long time ago someone foretold that the land would dry up and the crops would wither away, which is exactly what began to happen when their sun…"

"Went on the fritz?" Hammond asked, using his favorite new Jackism.

Sam nodded and managed a smile. "Anyway, this person also prophesized that a man named Daniel would come through the ‘stone ring’ just in time and transport them all to a new world."

"Quite a coincidence," Hammond mused thoughtfully.

"Yes sir," Sam allowed, finishing her water. "From what we could gather, someone saw the MALP come through and spread the word. There were literally thousands of these poor people gathered around the gate when we got there. And they were very well organized; going so far as to set up tents behind the stargate to distribute food, maintain order, and even handle medical emergencies."

"All because of a prophecy."

"Yes sir. In fact, they believed in it so strongly they developed a plan for this mass departure generations ago. I understand they’ve even held small scale practice runs in the past."

"And how is Doctor Jackson taking his new found fame?" Hammond asked solicitously as he toyed with a pen on the table.

"Well, you know Daniel," Sam smiled again. "Unfortunately, the people have taken the prophet’s words quite literally. They believe they have to be led by Daniel and since we can only sustain a wormhole for a limited time, he has to take each group through and in thirty eight minutes turn around and come right back for another. It’s the only way they’ll agree to pass through the stargate."

"That must be a little wearing."

"He’s okay," Sam assured. "For now."

"What about the radiation?"

"Well, Daniel spends most of his time on PJ1-04, so his exposure is limited. Teal’c’s been on 04 continuously, but his symbiote would probably protect him anyway."

"So we need to rotate personnel at the launch point," Hammond surmised.

"Yes sir. I think that’s probably why the colonel sent me home. But I don’t think he’ll leave voluntarily when Daniel can’t."

"We’ll work something out," the general assured. "In the meantime, get down to the infirmary and then get some rest. That’s an order, Major," he added to stem the protest he could see on her face.

"Yes, sir," Sam acquiesced. "The colonel said he’ll report in at the scheduled time."

Hammond nodded, already making notes of what needed to be done. "You don’t believe in prophecies, do you, Major?" he asked quietly without looking up.

"I don’t know, sir," Sam allowed before slipping out the door.

Teal’c surveyed the temporary structures that had risen shortly after the first group of immigrants had arrived, tucked behind the stargate and out of the way. The people in charge, although not part of a structured government, showed an amazing amount of forethought and good sense. Food was carefully rationed out to the refugees before they were sent on their way, dispersed in different directions in large familial bands to scout the lush landscape of their new home, making room for the inevitable next wave.

Officially, Teal’c’s job had been to police the area in front of the gate to keep it free of stragglers, but surreptitiously he also endeavored to insure that Daniel Jackson was not mobbed by the adoring crowd, a duty he took very seriously. He had finally been able to convince his human friend to accept a meal and lay down in the medical tent for a few minutes during the current window offered by the flow of bodies pouring out of the gate.

Unfortunately, the women manning the first aid station were as enamored of their reluctant hero as everyone else, and their constant fussing over him did not allow him proper rest. Just as Teal’c steeled himself to act on Daniel Jackson’s behalf, the living deluge trickled to but a few last minute travelers, signaling the impending collapse of the wormhole. Even as the blue curtain disappeared, Daniel rose from his resting place and threaded his way through the small crowd of alien ‘Red Cross’ workers over to the DHD.

After pressing in the correct symbols, the lights lit as expected before stuttering and blinking out. Daniel stared at the gate dumbly for a minute before dropping his confused gaze back to the dial home device. "Did I misdial?" he asked with a tired frown.

"Is it not time for O’Neill to contact General Hammond?" Teal’c reminded him gently.

Daniel’s face lightened up as he pulled back the Velcro covering on his watch to have a peek. "Oh yeah, you’re right," he agreed. "It’s just a busy signal… I guess we should give it a minute, huh?"

"Indeed."

Daniel stifled a yawn and stretched expansively. "Did you ever get something to eat?" he asked.

"I did."

"Okay. Good."

Niceties expended, with Teal’c especially not big on small talk, a comfortable silence stretched out between them as they waited. Daniel closed his eyes and leaned back against the DHD with the knowledge that Teal’c would alert him if anything happened. After several more minutes, the chevrons began to light up one by one. Daniel straightened and joined the Jaffa in front of the gate just out of reach of the expected whoosh.

"Hey," Jack greeted as he sauntered through.

"What’s up?" Daniel asked taking off his shade covered glasses and rubbing his eyes.

"Hammond has ordered us back to the SGC to get some sleep," Jack provided, swiping the bandana from Daniel’s head.

"We can’t stop now," Daniel protested as anticipated.

"Daniel, you’re exhausted. Teal’c needs to meditate and Carter and I need to get out of the radiation and away from that damn stench for a while. Why do they all shit on that side of the gate anyway?" Jack complained, checking out the relatively cleaner ground in front of the arrival gate. "Damn, it must be twenty degrees cooler on this side," he added, taking a moment to enjoy the reprieve from the heat.

"What about all those people waiting to come through?"

"Relief teams are standing by to keep up the evacuation," Jack supplied in a lower voice as he produced a boonie hat and stuck it on Daniel’s head. "Put your glasses on."

Daniel did as he was told, watching as Jack wandered over to the DHD. "We’ve already been through this. They won’t come through without me and I don’t have the energy to argue with them about it again."

"Relax. Hammond has a plan. We’re gonna pull a little bait and switch," Jack assured, punching in the coordinates to the smelly planet. "But you have to bring one more group through first."

Daniel exchanged a bewildered look with Teal’c then obediently followed as Jack stepped into the wormhole. "We’ll be right back, I guess," he muttered before he, too, vanished.

After evacuating one last group, Daniel and Jack collected Teal’c and headed back to the SGC. As they stepped onto the ramp and got a glimpse of the man standing with SG-2 next to General Hammond, Jack grinned widely. "This’ll work," he decided.

"Maybe," Daniel agreed hopefully, taking in the young man who bore more than a passing resemblance to him; same height, same basic frame, similar hair color but in a shorter high-and-tight military style. When the man clipped some shades onto the frames of his newfound spectacles the most noticeable difference, his green eyes, were hidden from view. He slipped a boonie onto his head and the transformation was complete.

"It’ll work," Jack reiterated. "Provided we got enough of the people through who might have had a good look at you... and the folks behind the gate in the tents only see this guy’s back," Jack added as they came to a stop in front of the general. "Very sneaky, sir," he approved. "I didn’t know ya had it in you."

Hammond smiled craftily. "You’d be surprised, colonel. Doctor Jackson, this is Lieutenant Dillard. He’s going to be taking over for you for awhile."

"The workers on PJ1-04 might be a problem," Daniel worried. "They’ve seen me up close."

"What do they care? They’re already on the other side," Jack argued. "Even if they don’t like it, what can they do about it? None of them know how to work the stargate. We’re home free by the time they hit 04."

Daniel shrugged, accepting Jack’s reasoning as he offered his hand to his doppelganger. "Good luck."

"Thank you, sir," the man replied, with a firm handshake. "I won’t let you down."

"SG-2, you have a go," the general announced, turning to head back to the control room.

Jack punched Ferretti on the shoulder playfully. "You’re in for a real treat."

"Yeah, just watch your step on the other side," Daniel cautioned the departing team, earning an elbow in the ribs from Jack. "Ow, what was that for?"

"What’s up, Daniel?" Ferretti questioned, stopping just short of the event horizon to eye O’Neill suspiciously.

"You’ll see," Jack taunted, steering Daniel out of the gate room before he could answer. "And you’ll smell, too."

"Okay, gate virgin," Ferretti replied, turning his attention to his temporary team member. "Get ready for the ride of your life."

Dillard stared at the hypnotic blue shimmering before him. He had been briefed extensively, but the idea of actually stepping through into another world wasn’t quite sinking in. "You’ve done this before?" he asked. Never in his wildest dreams would he have guessed what was really going on inside the mountain he had guarded from the outside for the last three months.

Ferretti grinned and latched on to the back of the man’s jacket. "At ease, marine," he ordered, dragging Dillard into the light.

Dillard stepped onto 738 and almost gagged. His first trip through the gate had been a little nauseating, but he’d quickly acclimated himself to the ride. In fact, it was exhilarating and exciting and like nothing he’d ever experienced before and he really, really wanted to do it again… he just wanted to land somewhere else.

With a high security rating and an immaculate service record, Dillard had been promised that he would be transferred to a post inside the Cheyenne Mountain facility in short order, even though at the time, he’d had no idea what that entailed. Naturally, he had been thrilled to find out only hours ago that he’d been hand picked by a general for a special assignment, even if it was just to impersonate some geeky scientist. Now that he was ‘in’, he expected to take the fast track to an SG team, which is what his short-term teammates insisted he wanted to do.

Still, no matter how many times he stepped out onto this dung encrusted world, the smell nearly undid him. Something about the heat and the dust from the overly trampled ground combined with the animal waste to produce a most disgusting odor. He carefully kept a neutral expression, no need to give the Air Force punks another good laugh at the expense of one weak-stomached marine. Sucking up his discomfort, he continued with his mission knowing in only a few short hours the scientist would be back on the job for another shift anyway.

Besides, he realized that he could have it much worse. The lowest ranked member of SG-2 stood off to the side of the steps still holding the shovel he used to keep the immediate area clear of manure. Other than brief conversations with the airmen back on the more pleasant planet, he had been too busy to get to know his new buddies, but he was dying to talk to them at length about their adventures in outer space. Dillard shot Romano a sympathetic grin, but he was too busy staring off into the distance to notice.

Following Romano’s gaze, Dillard caught sight of the odd movement in the crowd and moved toward the leader of SG-2. Major Ferretti waited by the DHD, warily watching the activity as well. "What’s going on, sir?" Dillard asked, reflexively standing at attention.

Ferretti wordlessly tossed him the binoculars. Where once there were wall to wall bodies, now several areas had begun to open up, parting straight down the middle. A contingent of newcomers moved forward at a much slower, somehow dignified pace, steadily filling the gulf opened by the peasants. Many of the new arrivals rode in fancy, covered carriages and the abundance of silken streamers and flags carried by a uniformed cavalcade up front all but screamed ‘royalty’.

"I don’t like this," Ferretti muttered apprehensively, noting the anxiety level of the crowd as it grew by leaps and bounds. "Romano, get back to base and advise the general that we’ve got a new wrinkle."

"Maybe they just want to evacuate, too," Dillard offered.

"God, I hope so," Ferretti sighed, already punching up the address for Earth. "In the meantime, let’s get a couple more groups through before they get here. No need for these people to wait on the fat cats if they don’t have to." When the wormhole settled, he punched in the iris code. "Romano, go."

The Sergeant sketched a salute and pelted up the steps and out of sight. As soon as the event horizon collapsed, Ferretti was dialing again.

"Okay folks," Dillard announced in a loud, authoritative voice. "Remember to keep moving when you reach the other side." For the first time since he’d taken over, the people hesitated, looking back fearfully over their shoulders. "Don’t look at them," Dillard ordered. "Look at me. I said let’s go."

Uneasily, several men moved forward, breaking the tension and starting an urgent new wave of evacuation. Ferretti watched them go for a minute before tightening the grip on his weapon and turning his attention back to the unknown arrivals.

"What’s going on?" Daniel asked as he entered the briefing room and found a seat. Freshly showered and shaved, he felt like he could still use a couple more hours of sleep.

"It looks like the city folk have decided to join the party," Jack explained as he slid a cup of coffee in front of his glassy-eyed friend.

"A governing body?" Daniel queried, lifting the cup to his lips without conscious thought.

"That’s what we were guessing. They’ve got militia with them as well," Romano supplied uneasily. "They didn’t show any signs of aggression and their advance was slow so the major decided to continue with the evacuation ‘til they got closer."

"That’s why we haven’t been able to establish a wormhole to either 738 or 04," Sam surmised.

Hammond nodded unhappily. "As soon as we do make contact, we need to replace Lieutenant Dillard with Doctor Jackson in case we have to negotiate."

Jack harrumphed, tapping the table lightly with a ballpoint. "It’s a little late for negotiations, don’t cha think? Sir?"

"Well, just because the destitute farmers were so eager to move on doesn’t mean that they had permission from the government," Daniel reasoned, spreading his hands. "In fact, they might have been escaping an overbearing monarchy of some sort, one that might take exception to our interference."

"Yeah, but they can’t do anything about it now," Sam rejoined. "It’s not like they can make them come back."

"No, but they can keep any more of them from jumping ship," Jack noted. "Or they can take it out on the one that helped them get away," he added, tipping his pen in Daniel’s direction.

"Major, how much longer until we can dial 738?" Hammond asked, turning to Sam.

"Judging by the time Romano got here and assuming they immediately established a wormhole to 04, I’d guesstimate fifteen to twenty minutes, sir. We’ll keep trying," Sam suggested, pointing towards the stairs to mutely ask for permission to return to the control room.

Hammond nodded and watched the Major go before turning to the only member of SG-2 present. "Sergeant Romano, good job, son. Stand down."

"Yes sir. Thank you, sir," Romano responded. Even so, he followed as the rest of SG-1 went to wait for a wormhole.

As a column of horses broke free from the approaching party to gallop down the ever widening path, the panicked rush of people through the gate surged. On top of that, the thirty-eight minute time limit was dwindling fast, Ferretti noted.

Now instead of herding the cattle patiently through the gate, the peasants began to leave them or shoo them back the way they’d come. Without the animals slowing the flow of foot traffic, the humans poured into the gate at an as yet unseen velocity.

Further back, families dropped their possessions and sprinted for the stone steps, leaving a swathe of deserted belongings behind them. It seemed that everyone wanted to get away before the well-to-do parade reached them, leaving everything but their children behind in their bid for freedom.

Fighting his way through the moving crowd, Lou finally made it to the steps and tried to anchor himself as he was all but swept away, losing his hat in the process. "Stop!" he shouted, trying to make himself heard above the roar of trampling feet. "You have to stop now!" Releasing the safety on his P-90, he fired a short, controlled burst into the air. Concerned as his arms were jarred dangerously from side to side, he ceased firing immediately.

A few people continued their flight, but most halted abruptly and stared at him in fear. Quickly checking his watch and spotting a natural break in the crowd, he nodded at the people already on the steps. "Go," he told them. "Hurry."

Ferretti stepped forward and fired off another volley stopping the next wave of peasants in their tracks. "You have to stop," he advised them gently. "It’s dangerous now." Within a minute of the last traveler, the event horizon sputtered out. Lou sent a quick prayer that he hadn’t let them go for too long, hoping everyone made it to the other side.

Looking back toward the horizon unhappily, the people who didn’t make it through began to solemnly gather the debris in front of the gate and clear the area. They appeared defeated, but moved with a single purpose as they rounded up the still startled cattle and righted the overturned carts to pull them away, abandoning their prized ‘next in line’ positions for the newcomers.

A chevron lit up and drew Ferretti’s attention away from the mournful faces. A minute later, Dillard stepped out of the newly formed event horizon and looked around. "What the heck happened?"

"We need to contact the SGC," Ferretti announced, keeping an eye on the rapidly approaching horses as he waited for the gate to clear.

"Looks like a tornado swept through here," Dillard commented from his perch on the dais. "Major!" he shouted as one of the horsemen loosed an arrow in Ferretti’s direction which fell short by a dozen yards or more. The peasants still in the proximity of the gate quickly scattered.

"Take cover!" Ferretti ordered, rounding the DHD. Dillard rapidly joined him, pulling out his berretta. The thunder of horses’ hooves drew closer and suddenly, they were surrounded as the riders dismounted abruptly all around them. Gleaming swords and lances pointed at them from every direction. "Hold fire," the major said quietly as he rose, holding his hands up slightly in supplication.

A striking, elegantly clad woman remained mounted and stared imperiously down at Ferretti, obviously unimpressed as he surrendered his weapon. When Dillard stood up, her attitude faltered as he handed over his sidearm. "Desert Son," she murmured sotto voce. One of the soldiers held her horse and another helped her down.

"I’m Major Ferretti of Stargate Command…"

"Silence," the woman ordered coolly, holding up a hand in Ferretti’s face without even looking in his direction as she advanced on Dillard. Up close, they could see that she wasn’t quite as young as she had first appeared. Tiny lines of responsibility edged her mouth and eyes.

"You are Daniel?" she asked as if in awe.

Dillard shot Ferretti a questioning glance. Lou scratched his thinning hairline and shrugged in reply. "Yes," Dillard answered hesitantly. A round of gasps sounded from the soldiers who lowered their weapons and stepped back slightly.

"You are the Desert Son?" she queried again, sounding mistrustful this time.

"Yes," the young Lieutenant responded, with more self-assurance.

The woman’s face grew hard as she narrowed her eyes and pulled Dillard’s boonie off of his head. The marine stared back at her impassively as she removed his shaded glasses as well. A strange combination of triumph and disappointment crossed her face as she dropped his hat and shades to the ground.

"Seize them," she spat viciously as she turned and walked to her horse, roughly capturing the reins from the man who held them. She mounted the animal effortlessly and never looked back as she rode out to meet the distant convoy, even as the chevrons began to light again.

"We’ve got a picture, ma’am!" Sergeant Davis announced excitedly after the seventh chevron finally engaged and he established contact with the MALP.

Sam adjusted the feed and tried to bring the camera into focus. "The people are gone," she muttered in disbelief.

"Whadda ya mean gone?" Jack asked, leaning forward to try and make out the scrambled image of the empty ground directly in front of the gate.

"There!" Daniel exclaimed, noticing a human shaped shadow moving along the edge of the screen. "Pan toward the DHD."

"Crap," Jack groused as the view shifted to the right. "Looks like a rescue mission is in order, sir," he stated to the general.

The monitor showed Ferretti and Dillard on their knees with large swords pressed firmly against their throats. Their captors wore uniforms and appeared much cleaner and far healthier than the peasants who had so far been relocated.

"I take it these aren’t local boys," Hammond guessed gruffly.

"No, I’d say not," Daniel agreed pursing his lips as he studied the pristine white pants, shirts, and turbans, shiny black boots and deep purple sashes, "Maybe a royal guard, definitely an organized militia."

"Definitely well fed," Jack added with contempt. "Bastards."

"What are we going to do, sir?" Romano asked pointedly, speaking for the first time since they had left the briefing room.

"Well you aren’t going to do anything except go to the infirmary and get checked out, Sergeant," Jack replied, having forgotten all about the man, but admiring his concern for his team. "SG-1 is gonna head back and try to reason with these nut jobs, right sir?"

Hammond hesitated. "I thought they were all in awe of the ‘Desert Son’?" he asked, alluding to the fact that Dillard was now a hostage and apparently in great peril.

"Yeah, these guys don’t seem too impressed with him do they?" Daniel responded.

"Maybe they found out Lieutenant Dillard was an imposter," Sam offered, glancing up at Daniel.

"Sam, I’m an imposter, too. Remember?"

"Yeah," Jack agreed, "but you’re the original imposter."

A puzzled frown crossed Daniel’s face for a second as he pondered Jack’s logic before he got back to the problem at hand. "Sir, there’s a lot more at stake here than Ferretti and Dillard. If these soldiers stop the evacuation, then thousands of the remaining peasants will die. I mean they’re starving to death as we speak and their own government doesn’t seem inclined to do anything about it. And if they don’t die of starvation, the sun is going to get them."

"Well, not right away," Sam corrected, avoiding Daniel’s aggravated gaze by studying the MALP telemetry.

"No, not right away," Daniel allowed, "but if we attempted another evacuation later, who’s to say we would be able to gather them all together again?"

"Sir, we’ve at least got to try," Jack implored. "Besides, it kinda looks like they’re expecting us."

The soldiers seemed to be examining the event horizon cautiously, weapons at the ready, unaware that they themselves were being watched.

"Why don’t we speak to them first," Hammond suggested, motioning Daniel towards the microphone. "Test the waters."

Daniel nodded and leaned in. "Hello," he said into mic. "Over here."

Stunned, the men turned toward the camera and scanned the MALP warily. "Who speaks?" the oldest man asked hesitantly.

"Uh, hi… my name is Daniel Jackson…"

"Daniel?" the man asked, turning to look back at Dillard. A confused medley of ‘Daniel’ and ‘Desert Son’ sounded all around him.

"Yeah, just Daniel, not, you know… the other. Not Desert Son," Daniel explained badly, shrugging off Jack’s irritated glance.

"Look, you’ve got our people and we want ‘em back," Jack declared, smoothly hijacking the microphone.

"We want to negotiate for their release," Daniel continued firmly, putting one finger in the middle of Jack’s forehead and pushing him out of the way. "We’re coming through to talk to you. Our weapons are far superior to yours, so please don’t try anything."

"Daniel?"

"Jack?"

"What cha doin?"

"I just think we’ll accomplish more face to face."

"Sir?" Jack asked.

Hammond didn’t look happy, but slowly nodded. "Very well, I’ll give you twenty-four hours to negotiate, and then I’m sending in a rescue party."

"Thank you," Daniel sighed, turning back to the microphone. "We’re coming through. Please… stand back."

Jack shook his head as he led the way to the gate room to gather his gear. "I hope you know what you’re doing."

"About like usual," Daniel replied, ignoring Jack’s snort. He paused as he passed Romano. "We’ll bring ‘em home," he assured solemnly.

"Yes sir," Romano responded with a respectful nod.

Jack and Teal’c exited first, followed by Daniel and finally Sam bringing up the rear. Three of the four automatically kept the formation as they eased their way down the steps.

"Damn it, I was gonna bring air freshener," Jack grumbled after taking his first involuntary breath.

"Wouldn’t help," Daniel comforted offhandedly. "You guys okay?" he called out as they approached their captured comrades.

"God, I’m glad to see you, Daniel," Ferretti greeted. "That’s him, the real Desert Son in the flesh. Now let us go," he urged the soldiers.

Daniel grimaced and turned to the eldest of the guards who also happened to have the most ribbons sewn onto his shirt. "Hi, I’m Daniel," he said, frustrated at his attempt to communicate by the large Jaffa stepping between him and the grizzled old warrior. "But like I said, I’m not the person you call Desert Son. I don’t actually understand that reference?"

"I have sent notice to the queen," the old man responded, obviously out of his element dealing with the diplomatic side of things. However, he did remember to bow reverently.

"Oh good! That’s very good. We’ll, ah, just wait for her then," Daniel approved. "I don’t suppose you could let our friends get off the ground in the meantime?"

"No," the man muttered apologetically, mirroring the nervousness of the rest of the fancily dressed group. He bowed again, eliciting small bows from several of the other soldiers who seemed as in wonder of Daniel as the peasants had been.

"Oh, okay," Daniel accepted with a regretful sigh. "Sorry, Lou."

"Ferretti," Jack cut in, "what the hell happened?"

"The people kinda freaked when they saw the caravan coming," Ferretti explained, keeping his movements to a bare minimum as his Adam’s apple bobbed dangerously close to the blade every time he spoke. "They started dumping their stuff and running for the gate. It was like their lives depended on it."

"That’s not a good sign," Jack agreed dryly.

"A bunch of horses rode ahead and got here a lot faster than we anticipated. Then the folks just sort of gave up and pulled back. Some broad talked to Dillard for like two seconds before…" Ferretti strangled off his sentence as the sword changed angles, slicing a superficial path across his neck. Blood dripped slowly down onto the neckline of his sweaty brown tee-shirt.

"Do not speak of the queen in such a manner," the man behind him warned angrily.

"Hey!" Jack shouted, jerking his P-90 up threateningly. "Ease off." Teal’c and Sam followed suite, assuming defensive positions.

"Everybody just calm down," Daniel interjected, stepping between the two groups and lifting his empty hands in an urgent plea. "I’m sure Major Ferretti meant no offense to your queen. Right, Lou?"

"Yeah, sorry," Ferretti managed to spit out. The swordsman eased off on the pressure and everyone seemed to take a breath.

A lone rider galloped to the edge of the group and made a strange hand gesture that could loosely be translated as a salute as he pulled back on the reins and hastily stopped the horse. "The queen wishes to hold council with Desert Son in her coach."

"Okay, that’s a problem," Daniel ventured. "There’s been a misunderstanding. None of us are… him."

"You can’t even say it, can you?" Jack asked. "Just tell them you are… him, and get down to negotiations."

"It doesn’t make any sense to lie about it. Let me explain the situation to the queen, I’m sure she’s reasonable."

"What if she’s not?"

Daniel glanced at Ferretti’s rapidly reddening shirt and swallowed reflexively. "Then I’ll improvise."

"Tell the queen that she talks to all of us or none of us," Jack instructed the messenger.

"Jack," Daniel objected. "You can’t dictate to their sovereign like that. I’ll be okay alone."

"I do not think that is wise, Daniel Jackson," Teal’c spoke up.

"Well if I don’t go to her then we’re stuck here in this Mexican standoff," Daniel reasoned. "Or do you think we could actually shoot all of them before they decapitate Ferretti and Dillard?"

Dillard’s eyes went wide and Ferretti paled a little more.

"Probably not," Jack admitted caustically as he examined the mass of gleaming swords surrounding them.

Daniel dropped his pack and removed all his equipment except for his canteen and holster. Then he unsnapped the strap across the top of his berretta and handed the firearm butt first to Sam, who reluctantly took it.

"You might need that," Jack argued.

"To do what? Kidnap the queen?"

The soldiers stiffened and muttered uneasily amongst themselves.

"Well that option is out now," Jack grumbled, eyeing the troops to make sure none of them got any funny ideas about putting down a possible threat to their leader.

Rolling his eyes at Jack, Daniel turned back to the rider. "Tell her majesty that I’m on my way."

The messenger nodded and wheeled the horse around to head back toward the procession of wagons and carriages that was steadily drawing closer.

"Tell her Daniel, not…" Daniel yelled at his back urgently as he quickly rode away. "Just tell her… never mind."

"Oh for crying out loud," Jack complained. "Teal’c, go with him anyway." The soldiers seemed to hesitate, but allowed the escort after Teal’c handed over his staff weapon to Jack and dropped his pack.

"We’ll be back," Daniel said, plodding off to meet the queen, Jaffa shadow in tow.

"Be careful," Sam called after them.

Daniel waved, but didn’t turn around, watching his step and carefully avoiding the largest of the flattened piles of manure that speckled the landscape. Well aware of an audience that buzzed with excitement along the periphery of the now wide open field in front of the stargate, he paused long enough for Teal’c to catch up. "Things were going so well," he lamented as they walked together.

Another column of mounted soldiers passed them at a quick gait with an overloaded, rickety wagon clattering along behind them. Teal’c raised an eyebrow and cast a glance over his shoulder. To his relief, Dillard and Ferretti were now standing and talking with the rest of SG-1; unfortunately, the whole group was surrounded by white turbans.

"I believe the queen will allow the evacuation to continue," he stated with calm certainty.

"Really?" Daniel queried thoughtfully. "Why do you say that?"

"These warriors do not behave as if they are under the power of an immoral ruler."

"You mean they weren’t… mean, just protective of their leader."

"Yes."

"So if the queen doesn’t have some ulterior motive, we might be able to reason with her."

"There is also the prophecy."

"Teal’c," Daniel said, stopping in his tracks. "We can’t use their beliefs against them. Not even to save their lives."

"And yet we have already done so," Teal’c insisted, turning back to face his stubborn friend.

"Well, yes and no," Daniel hedged. "We never actually told them I was their Desert Son; we just didn’t say anything to dissuade them of it, either," he added guiltily.

Uncharacteristically, Teal’c appeared to hesitate. "Are you certain that you are not the man of whom the prophet spoke?" He finally asked, his dark eyes boring into Daniel’s.

Daniel gaped in mute surprise. "Uh… yeah, I’m sure," he finally managed. "How can you even entertain the notion that I am? I’ve never been here, I have no connection whatsoever to these people, how could I be the one?"

"In all my years, in all the places I have been, I have seen many things, Daniel Jackson. Do not be so quick to discard that which you do not understand," Teal’c advised.

With a conscious effort to close his mouth, Daniel began to walk again. The first of the wagons passed them and Daniel let the intricately painted woodwork distract him momentarily. "I suppose we should try to learn a little more about their belief system," he allowed. "Prophet, you say?"

"How else does one receive a prophecy if not through a prophet?" Teal’c asked astutely.

"Good question," Daniel sighed he continued to trudge along.

Jack walked a modified perimeter around his people as Sam treated Ferretti’s wound and Dillard stood guard with Daniel’s handgun. They had not been allowed to send them back to Earth to get them out of the sun, but they still had their weapons, so Jack felt a little more in control of the situation. Still, with their every movement strictly monitored, it felt an awful lot like being prisoners.

Half of the soldiers surrounded them, but the others began to unpack the contents of a wagon that had rolled right up next to the DHD. Seamed sections of a thick, pastel fabric resembling a small circus tent were unrolled and spread out on the relatively clean ground in front of the stargate, thanks to Romano’s earlier efforts, by some of them while others erected a wooden frame.

"What’s that?" Jack asked curiously

"It is a shelter," the closest man replied with obvious disdain.

"Well you can’t put it there," Jack goaded, pacing off the estimated distance of a full blown wormhole vortex. "Nope, you need to move back a couple yards to be safe."

The man ignored him, going so far as to turn his back on the group completely.

"Hey, I tried," Jack shrugged with a mischievous grin as he turned back to his own people. His humor quickly faded as the next layer of the cart, heavy walls of iron bars, were unloaded. "Crap," he muttered.

"Sir?" Sam asked, looking up in concern at the clanking noises.

"Looks kinda like a cage to me," Jack observed unhappily. He climbed the MALP and studied the horizon with his binoculars. In the distance, he could still make out two indistinct desert-camo blobs, too far away to give or receive assistance. "Stay on your toes," he ordered quietly.

More and more of the fancy carriages and utilitarian wagons passed them as Daniel and Teal’c continued their quest to meet the queen. "It’s like a city on wheels," Daniel observed, returning the frequent waves from the people peering out at them in wonder as they drove by. His hopes were bolstered as he realized they were seeing another wave of refugees, even if these appeared to be a lot better off than the poor farmers.

"I believe this is what we seek," Teal’c decided, pointing to an elaborate coach parked across the barren field on the other side of the stream of traffic. The messenger’s stallion was tied to the back and several auxiliary wagons and coaches pulled up around it.

"Yeah, it looks like it," Daniel agreed, following as Teal’c held up a hand to slow the next wagon in the procession so they could cross safely.

"Desert Son," the driver of the large cart called to them, smiling broadly as he stood to beckon them on, coming to a full stop.

"Right," Daniel replied with a half-hearted acknowledgment as they quickly crossed in front of it. Before they made it completely across, an extended family poured out of the back, surrounding them.

"Desert Son, bless the children," one of the women begged.

"What?" Daniel asked, taken aback by the request. "I’m not… I don’t… do I look like the pope?"

"Please, Desert Son," an older women beseeched as the next wagon in line stopped and unloaded its passengers as well. "Bless us all."

"Daniel Jackson," Teal’c warned softly as the traffic behind them backed up and the crowd grew rapidly with the potential to turn into a mob. "You must appease them quickly."

Daniel groaned miserably. "I hate this," he muttered under his breath. With a resigned sigh he raised his hand. "Live long and… uh, prosper," he improvised loud enough to be heard.

A cheer went up just as a group of the white clad soldiers on horses cantered over to the rescue. "Return to your wagons immediately," one of them warned. "If you do not proceed, you will forfeit your position in line." Taking the threat seriously, the people did as they were told, apparently quite pleased with the blessing.

"Thank you," Daniel replied, making eye contact with the soldier.

The man bowed his head reverently for a moment. When he once again lifted his face, it bore an expression of extreme sadness. "The queen awaits, Desert Son," he uttered somberly.

Exchanging a glance with Teal’c, Daniel moved toward the gilded carriage. As they approached, the door opened and two soldiers stepped out followed by a servant girl. She curtsied deeply and as Daniel passed her to climb the cushioned steps she caught his foot and began to wipe his boot with a rag. Looking around sheepishly, Daniel unclipped his shades as he allowed her to finish before presenting her with the other foot. When both soles were somewhat free of dust and dung, Daniel took a deep breath and climbed into the coach.

"Your majesty," he said, bowing slightly not only as a symbol of respect but also because there wasn’t room for his full six foot height in the confined space. Appearing something like a miniature parlor, the coach interior was very elegant, if a little stuffy. A shelf of books, knickknacks, and personal items sat behind the seats on both sides and Daniel wondered how the objects didn’t come crashing down when the carriage was in motion. The door closed behind him and it became apparent that Teal’c hadn’t been invited in.

"Sit," the woman offered without looking up from the parchment in her hand. She was a handsome woman with the dark skin and hair of her people, but Daniel couldn’t see her eyes with her head down.

Still looking around, Daniel gladly did as he was told, pushing his hat off and letting it fall to hang by its strings as he took a seat across from the queen. While he waited for her to begin, he stole a closer look at the elaborate embroidery on the cushion behind him, running his fingers delicately over the intricate design.

"You are Daniel?" the queen asked eventually with a distinctly snobbish air.

"Yes," Daniel replied as he turned back to face her.

She gasped as their eyes met for the first time. Her royal persona dropped away momentarily as she seemed at a loss for words. "You are the Desert Son," she managed at last, not a question this time.

"No, I’m not," Daniel insisted gently. "This has all been a misunderstanding. I’m sure we can straighten it out and reach some sort of equitable agreement."

"Are you not Daniel born unto Claire, after whom my own name was taken?"

"You were named after my mother?" Daniel questioned incredulously, unintentionally answering the question.

"As were many," Claire assured. "It is a most honored forename."

"Wow, that’s… that’s quite a coincidence."

"Were you not born in a sea of sand in a land far removed from your own people? Do you not speak numerous foreign tongues? Read diverse languages? Are you not a scribe with many titles?" she questioned relentlessly, passionately.

"I… well, sort of," Daniel admitted with a frown. "I suppose you could say all those things are true on some level, but that doesn’t mean that I am… who you think I am."

"Were your parents not crushed when you were but a boy?"

"What?" Daniel gasped in shock.

"Was your wife not taken from you and ultimately killed to protect your own life by one that you love as a brother?"

"I assure you; I did not knowingly come here to fulfill any prophecy," Daniel rejoined in a stunned, shaky voice. "I am not this Desert Son you’ve been waiting for."

His answer seemed to disturb her royal highness as she clutched a fist to her chest and turned away.

"Look, I’m sorry I’m not who you want me to be," Daniel offered sincerely, calming down. "But we really need to talk about the welfare of your people. And the safe return of mine."

"Speak," Claire sighed, clenching her eyes shut.

"Okay, uh, let’s start with the basics. Your sun is becoming dangerous. But don’t worry, we’ve found you another planet, it’s beautiful, and it’s very safe…"

Slowly Claire began to shake her head from side to side in agitation. "Have you not already begun to take the souls of the peasants?" she interrupted, opening her eyes to stare at him mournfully.

"Take their souls?" Daniel asked in shock. "You think they’re dead?"

"Have they not passed through the portal?"

"Well yes, but they’re still very much alive! They’ve only been relocated," Daniel explained hastily. "And they went willingly, you must know that."

The woman blinked back tears of relief or anger or some other emotion Daniel didn’t quite comprehend as she momentarily turned her attention back to the yellow paper in her shaking hands. Daniel accepted it cautiously when she offered it to him.

"This is Desert Son?" he assumed taking in the faded charcoal drawing of a man that could be a rough representation of himself, or Dillard, or any of a hundred other men wearing glasses and a floppy hat. "It’s very old," Daniel observed, carefully smoothing the rough edges of the parchment.

"It is only a replica. The original was drawn by my ancestor Olivia after she was visited by the prophet many generations ago. Through the years it has been copied countless times."

"Well, I assure you, it’s not me," Daniel decried handing the sketch back. "But how did you know it wasn’t Dillard… uh, the other guy?" he asked, pointing in the direction of the stargate. "I mean, he fooled hundreds, maybe thousands of others. What made you decide that he wasn’t the one?"

Claire shook her head, seemingly amused. "It was written long ago that Desert Son would have eyes the color of a summer sky," she replied as she glanced up at him demurely from under her lashes.

Daniel cleared his throat as he leaned back uncomfortably. "That’s hardly the basis for a positive identification," he argued.

"We have a very detailed description of Desert Son," the sovereign advised matter-of-factly. "Tell me, Daniel, do you have a scar along your right side?" she asked, drawing a finger along her boned and fitted bodice to just above her right hip.

"No," Daniel lied, fighting the urge to clamp his hand over his appendix scar. "But even if I did, that still doesn’t prove anything."

"You are Desert Son. Why do you deny it?"

"I’m not!" Daniel persisted, throwing his hands up in agitation. "That picture was drawn years and years before I was even born. It’s not me. What can I do to prove it to you?"

"Show me your side. If there is no scar there, I will believe you," Claire replied slyly.

"No," Daniel steadfastly refused, crossing his arms over his chest.

"You have no need to fear, I will not order your blood to be shed. The sacrifice must be made willingly."

"Sacrifice?" Daniel asked, leaning forward in surprise. "Nobody said anything about a sacrifice."

As the coach door closed, one of the soldiers assumed a position of guard in front of it. Teal’c took up a spot close beside him with his hands clasped lightly behind his back, severely infringing on the other man’s space. He ignored the outraged glare he received, feeling that what he had to protect inside was every bit as important to him as the queen was to the soldiers. Even unarmed, Teal’c was well aware of his imposing presence. The other man finally relented and scooted down almost a foot to give him some room. Were he so inclined, Teal’c might have smiled at the effortless victory.

Nearby, another less opulent carriage opened and an elderly woman was tenderly helped down the steps. Teal’c turned his head to scrutinize the new arrivals as the woman and a flock of soldiers and servants drifted in his direction. Dressed head to toe in a gauzy black material, the woman bore an imposing presence in spite of her diminutive size. She uncovered her face as she approached and smiled delightedly as she took in Teal’c’s bulk.

"Leave us," she ordered the group in general, much to the dismay of the soldiers.

To Teal’c’s surprise, everyone did as they were told and left them a wide berth without argument, including the man guarding the door, which spoke volumes about the woman’s power.

"I am Alva, Oracle of my people, keeper of the prophecy. What are you called?" she inquired attentively.

"I am Teal’c."

"And what does that mean?"

"It means strength," Teal’c explained, raising an eyebrow as he stared down at the inquisitive woman.

"Well named," the old girl approved as she reached up to pat him affectionately on the chest with one hand. "With goodness in the heart and evil in the belly," she quoted, slowly bringing her hand down until it rested over his pouch, causing him to nearly flinch in amazement. "Do not be surprised, Dark One, for the prophecy speaks of you as well."

"Tell me of your prophecy," Teal’c requested with great respect.

"It speaks of you as protector of Desert Son; with a love as of kindred, born of guilt, steeped in respect and admiration. Is this not so?"

"It is."

"Then hear me, Teal’c," Alva pledged as she raised her other hand and blew fine, red dust into his face. "I will carry your burden. No harm will come to Daniel, Son of the Desert while I watch over him."

The old woman stepped away as Teal’c choked and staggered to his knees, gasping for breath that wouldn’t come, his head spinning. As his symbiote became agitated, his vision began to grey. Collapsing to the ground, he saw a glimpse of black boots before his sight blanked out completely. For a moment he could still hear voices from inside of the coach as he succumbed to the drug, until they, too, faded away.

The large cage went up quickly and the canvas material formed an open-sided sunshade over the top of it. Unfortunately, one side of it sat well in the path of any forming wormhole, a fact the mismatched team kept to themselves.

"This isn’t necessary," Sam pleaded, as the soldiers tried to force them inside.

"We’re not gonna let you lock us up," Jack reiterated for the fourth time.

Severely outnumbered and completely surrounded, Jack raised the tip of his P-90 and fired once in the air to demonstrate their superior weaponry. The attack came without warning before he could even lower his gun. With no room to maneuver and no desire to wipe out the soldiers, they were brutally taken down without another shot fired.

A blow to the back of the head left Jack disoriented as he was roughly stripped of his equipment. Pushed into the cell, he landed on something soft and managed to roll off an unconscious Ferretti and onto the dirt floor of the cage. "I knew this was gonna happen," he swore fiercely, clamping a hand to his aching head. "Carter?"

"I’m okay, sir," Sam assured, suddenly at his side.

"Ferretti?"

"He’s out, sir," Dillard answered, appearing at Jack’s other side, looking unharmed except for a trickle of blood oozing from his nose.

Outside the cage, the soldiers began to dissipate to set up camp now that their captives were under lock and key.

"We should probably move," Sam suggested, realizing in their current position they would be disintegrated if the gate should activate.

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "I’m okay, get Ferretti."

Dillard and Sam pulled the injured man to the far corner as Jack staggered to his feet and joined them, glancing over his shoulder as he moved. He could see that their packs and weapons had been conveniently stacked under the empty wagon next to the DHD.

"The ground is packed solid," Carter commented as she kicked at the floor with the heel of her boot. "We’re not going to be able to dig our way out, that’s for sure."

"Teal’c and Daniel will get us out," Jack assured, noticing the first of the carriages as they arrived.

"If you will not willingly lay down your life for my people, then you cannot be the one of whom the prophet spoke," Claire finally pronounced, ending the protracted argument.

"Thank you!" Daniel responded in exasperated relief. "That’s exactly what I’ve been trying to tell you. It’s a moot point anyway. No one has to die, there doesn’t have to be any sacrifice and everyone gets to live happily ever after. All you have to do is step through the stargate… the… the… stone ring. It’s that simple."

"You are challenging the very tenets of our civilization," Claire continued to resist. "We have waited for this moment for generations. How can we throw out hundreds of years of expectations? Unless the prophecies are met, we will not follow."

"How are you going to follow if I’m dead?" Daniel reasoned.

"If you are Desert Son, death will not hold you."

"And if I’m not?"

"Then we will return to the city to await the real Desert Son to lead us."

"But thousands have already gone through," Daniel retorted, his voice rising with his frustration. "As we speak they are settling into a new life on a healthy, fertile planet. And trust me; I didn’t have to die to get them there."

The queen harrumphed distastefully. "Ignorant peasants."

"Ignorant peasants who were smart enough to get out while they could," Daniel countered heatedly, reaching the end of his patience with the spoiled monarch. "You know, I’d like to give you the benefit of the doubt and think of you as a wise ruler only trying to do what’s best for your people. But the more we talk, the more I’m convinced that you’ll do whatever is necessary to keep your power base intact. That’s what this is really about, isn’t it Claire? If these people win, then you lose."

"Get out," Claire spat, glaring for a second before throwing the nearest item within reach, a small glass box, at the man who dared to question her motives. Furiously, her hand found a book, which she also threw before grabbing something else.

Daniel covered his head with one arm to fend off the barrage of household missiles while he fumbled for the door latch with the other. When the door finally swung open, he jumped to the ground and slammed it shut behind him to stop the flow of increasingly heavy objects aimed at his head. For a moment loud thumps continued to rain on the inside of the door.

"Prove me wrong, Claire," Daniel challenged loudly as the coachman received orders from within and urged the horses into motion. "Make the right decision. Be the leader your people need you to be!"

He reached up to wipe away the drop of moisture sliding down his cheek, surprised to find it red on his fingers. The cruel midday sun quickly pulled Daniel from his angry fugue and he realized that he was alone.

"Teal’c!" he called out, turning in circles, but his friend was nowhere in sight and the other wagons that had stopped were long gone as well.

The sea of peasants had already given a wide berth to the line of more privileged refugees that still streamed single file towards the stargate. Putting on his hat, Daniel sighed and began the long trek back, falling in parallel to the stylized wagon train.

Jack exchanged a worried look with Sam and then nudged Dillard’s foot to rouse the dosing man. "Up and at ‘em, Lieutenant, we’ve got company," he ordered quietly.

A horse and rider edged close to the cage to release a very familiar form to the hands of the awaiting soldiers. The prone body lying limply across the front of the flat leather saddle never moved as the group of men grunted under his weight and lowered Teal’c gently to the ground. One of the men unlocked the cell door while several others stood ready with swords to fight off any attempt at escape from inside.

"Crap," Jack muttered as he and Dillard clambered to their feet.

Carter held Ferretti, who had yet to waken, a little tighter. "Is he breathing?" she asked anxiously, looking at Teal’c.

Kept at arms length by the wealth of pointy blades while the soldiers deposited their teammate unknowingly in harms way, Jack and Dillard scrambled to his side as soon as the door swung shut. "Geesh," Jack grumbled as they dragged the solid mass of Jaffa muscle back to the safe end of the cage. "It’s a good thing he’s not usually the one who gets knocked out."

Dillard shot him a confused look but didn’t ask. Instead he felt for a pulse while Jack did a quick once over, checking for obvious injuries. Sam slipped Ferretti out of her lap and lay his head on her folded up jacket and joined them.

"His heart rate is really slow," Dillard offered.

"Yeah, and he’s not bleeding anywhere," Jack agreed worriedly. "Teal’c! Come on buddy, talk to me," he urged as he patted his big friend’s face urgently. "This isn’t good," he insisted when he failed to get a response of any kind.

"Maybe he’s drugged," Sam suggested as she untucked his tee-shirt.

"Junior wouldn’t stand for that, would he?" Jack asked, grimacing as the edges of Teal’c’s pouch came into view. "What cha doing?"

"Checking Junior," Sam replied, pulling a face as she slipped her hand into the warm, sticky muck of Teal’s symbiote womb. Inside the parasite nuzzled her hand briefly before going still. "It’s alive," she shuddered, withdrawing her hand and flicking her wrist to dislodge the gooey residue that clung tenaciously to her fingers.

Dillard gaped at the sight and turned a little green. He had been briefed about the different alien species, but somehow it hadn’t seemed real before.

"Ew, don’t get gut snot on me," Jack advised, reaching into his pocket for Daniel’s bandana that he’d been meaning to give back to him. "Here."

"Thank you," Sam responded, eagerly wiping her hand on the cloth before she really examined it. She studied her C.O. for a second, but he smiled back at her innocently so she let it slide.

"So who’s going to rescue us now?" Dillard asked dismally, folding his legs under him as he settled beside Teal’c.

"Daniel’s still out there," Jack pointed out irritably. "He’ll get us out of here."

Dillard snorted and muttered something under his voice as he turned away.

"What was that, marine?" Jack growled as he narrowed his eyes angrily.

"I said ‘fat chance’, sir," Dillard responded bravely, if stupidly. "I mean if they subdued the big, bad Jaffa, what chance does one civilian scientist have?"

"The big, bad Jaffa’s name is Teal’c," Jack countered with an icy tone. "And don’t underestimate ‘the scientist’ either. He’s saved our asses plenty of times. Just not always in the way ya might think…" he trailed off with a grimace, apparently thinking of past adventures.

"Don’t worry, Dillard," Sam soothed. "You know SG-1. We get outta these jams on a regular basis."

"Ma’am, until yesterday, I was a surface guard. I didn’t even know the stargate existed."

"That’s where I saw you," Jack chimed in. "You used to check ID’s at the main gate."

"Yes sir."

"From gate guard to Daniel’s understudy, nice promotion," Jack congratulated. "Bet you wish you’d never got on that elevator, huh?"

"Desert Son?" someone called tentatively.

Used to the address now and more tired than he felt he should be, Daniel raised a hand in greeting but plodded on without looking.

"Desert Son? Would you honor us with your presence?"

"Huh?" Daniel replied, finally glancing up. "You want to give me a ride?"

The large canvas-covered wagon slowed and Daniel trotted gratefully to the back and accepted the assist from the multiple hands reaching down for him. He was easily pulled inside.

"Thank you," he responded, taking in the group of mostly women, children and elders crowded together in the back. With minimum fuss, they shifted to make room for one more and Daniel found himself seated in the middle of the family. A water bladder was pushed into his hands and he took several long swigs before capping it tightly. "Thank you," he said again, handing it back. "I’m Daniel."

"Yes," a young woman directly across from him answered with a shy smile as she held a baby to suckle at her breast. "We know."

"Right," Daniel responded awkwardly as a more mature woman next to him presented him with hard bread and some type of jerky. "No, no, I don’t want to take your food," Daniel objected, recognizing immediately that this particular wagon was not filled with privileged rich people, but rather a large working class family not so very far removed from the farmers.

"All that we have is yours," the woman responded kindly.

Not wanting to offend, Daniel tore off a piece of the bread and began to eat, realizing that he was in fact quite hungry. Only the tough texture, and the constant observation by his rapt audience, kept him from devouring the food without thoroughly chewing it. While simple, he found the bread quite good and it reminded him of Abydos. The meat was spicy and the unexpected burst of zest made his lips and tongue tingle.

"Can you fly?" a small boy asked, mesmerized by Daniel’s presence.

"What?" Daniel choked out through a mouthful of the dried meat. "Fly?"

"Angels fly," the boy insisted.

"I’m not… I’m not an angel," Daniel denied after swallowing hastily. "I’m human; flesh and blood, just like you."

Silence fell as the group considered his words. The wagon bounced along and Daniel self-consciously finished eating, wiping his slightly greasy fingers on his pants. "Will you tell me something?" he asked at last, turning to the woman who had fed him.

"Of course," she replied with an honored smile. "What would you like to know?"

"I’d like to hear about the prophecy."

"Surely you know better than I?"

"You’d be surprised," Daniel assured. "Please, tell me everything you know. Don’t leave anything out."

Sam checked her watch then worriedly pressed her hand to Teal’c’s forehead. The skin was cool and dry, but she had never known the man to stay passed out for more than a few minutes at a time unless he was gravely injured or his symbiote was deathly ill. It would be dusk soon and he had been back since early afternoon and hadn’t made a peep as yet. Fighting back a wave of revulsion, Sam decided to check Junior again. Jack watched her warily when she moved her hand down to the hem of Teal’c’s tee-shirt.

"Uurrgh."

Sam released the shirt and turned her attention back to her friend’s face. "Teal’c?"

"Teal’c!" Jack echoed, moving close enough to shake a large shoulder. "Come on, big guy, open your eyes. Nappy time’s over."

"What’s going on?" Ferretti mumbled, waking from a fitful dose and trying to sit up.

"Easy, Major," Dillard soothed as he pressed a hand gently to the wounded man’s chest to keep him in place, "The Ja… Teal’c is coming around."

"Daniel Jackson," Teal’c slurred as he blinked his eyes open.

"Daniel’s fine," Sam lied boldly, hoping in fact it was the truth. "How are you feeling?"

Looking around very briefly before dropping his head back down to a makeshift pillow of several jackets, Teal’c moaned again. "Prisoners?" he managed to ask clearly.

"Welcome to the Shit-hole Hilton," Jack greeted. "Hope you don’t have to pee, ‘cause we’re a little lacking in facilities. On the other hand this whole planet is one big, stinkin’ toilet so it’s not really a problem."

"Daniel Jackson?" Teal’c asked again as he stiffly rubbed his abdomen with one hand.

"Daniel’s not back yet," Jack provided truthfully. "You’ve been out for a while. What the hell happened?"

"There was a woman…" Teal’c started tentatively before pausing in thought.

"The queen," Sam prodded.

"No," Teal’c corrected. "Daniel Jackson was with the queen. It was an older woman; the Oracle, the keeper of the prophecy who approached me."

"You’re telling me you were taken out by a little old lady?" Jack asked in disbelief.

Teal’c managed a fairly ominous glare, but his growl came out a little weak. "I was drugged."

"A very potent drug at that," Sam agreed. "It took both you and Junior out."

"Indeed," Teal’c agreed, sounding almost pitiful as he continued to massage his belly to revive the little monster that lay inside.

"So what happened to Daniel?" Jack inquired. "Was he knocked out, too?"

"I do not believe so. As I succumbed to the poison, I could yet hear Daniel Jackson speaking with the queen."

"Okay, we need to talk about that, big T. Never, ever leave Daniel alone with any female type royalty. It always ends up bad."

"Hey, I heard that," Daniel complained as he neared the cell, appearing out of the slowly lengthening shadows as he picked his way through the soldiers’ camp.

"Daniel!" Sam exclaimed in relief.

"What happened?" Jack asked, grunting as he cradled his ribs and got to his feet to meet Daniel at the bars. "You okay?"

"Yeah, I’m fine. Things didn’t go so well with Claire, though."

"Claire?" Jack mocked. "You’re already on a first name basis with the queen? Oh, this doesn’t bode well. In fact I seem to remember another time when we were all stuck in a mine while you were playin’ footsies with the local princess."

A hurt look crossed Daniel’s face and he lowered his eyes. "It’s not like that," he muttered.

Jack sighed guiltily, well aware of at least two, probably three if Ferretti was still awake, accusing glares boring into his back. "What’s it like?" he asked a little softer.

"I think this whole situation boils down to a power play between the monarch and another local figure called the Oracle," Daniel replied, deliberately changing the subject however slightly.

"Yeah, Teal’c met her while you were dallying with her majesty."

"Teal’c? I was worried when I couldn’t find you," Daniel gushed, turning his attention to his stoic companion still flat on his back. "Are you all right?"

"I am," Teal’c croaked out, sounding anything but all right.

"Ferretti?"

"You know me, Daniel," Ferretti replied. "It takes a lot more than a bump on the noggin to take me out of the game."

"Yes, you do have a hard head, don’t you?" Daniel teased gently. "Don’t worry guys, I promise I’ll get you out of here. Where’s our stuff?"

"It’s under the wagon by the DHD," Sam provided.

With a nod, Daniel made his way over to the stash, stopping when two soldiers, not much more than boys stepped into his path. "Come no farther," one of them warned.

"Do you know who I am?" Daniel asked in a tired monotone.

"Yes, Desert Son."

"Well my friends need food and water and medical attention," Daniel lectured gravely. "So unless you’re planning to be to one to take my life, I suggest you get out of the way."

The young men looked at each other uncertainly before stepping aside. As Daniel grabbed the first two packs he came to, the young soldiers quickly jumped in to gather the rest.

"We cannot let you take the weapons," one of the boys apologized.

"Weapons aren’t going to solve anything here," Daniel assured, lugging his bounty back over to the cage. He stopped in mid stride and took in the location of the cell in relation to the stargate, his eager help almost colliding into his back. "Uh oh," he replied.

"Yeah, keep the ‘uh oh’ on the QT," Jack advised.

"Okay," Daniel agreed after calculating that the far end of the cage was safe enough. "Right there is fine," he instructed the soldiers, dropping the packs he carried next to the cage. "Thank you," he added, dismissing them after they unloaded their burdens. Reluctantly, they obeyed, drifting back toward the wagon but continued to watch him intently all the way.

"Daniel," Jack called as the linguist began to dig out canteens, a med kit, and some MREs.

"Jack?" Daniel answered as he handed the supplies through to Sam since the packs themselves were too big to pass between the bars.

"What was that bit about ‘the one to take my life’?"

"Oh that," Daniel sighed dismissively as he settled on the ground close to the wall of the cell. "See, in order for the monarchy to be satisfied that I am Desert Son, I have to…uh, die."

Jack scanned the area quickly for any possible threat before dropping down next to Daniel on the other side of the bars. "Well then, tell them that you’re not Desert Son."

"Now why didn’t I think of that?" Daniel mocked, letting his frustration with the situation slip out.

"Sarcasm, Daniel?"

"Sorry, didn’t mean to step into your arena."

"Hey, sarcasm is an art form," Jack insisted haughtily.

"Yes. Unfortunately your chosen medium is crayon. The big fat ones…"

"Daniel," Jack warned, raising a finger.

"…like they use in pre-school," Daniel finished meanly.

"Enough. I get it."

"You know, there is something to be said for subtlety."

"What EVER!"

Dillard watched the display with an open mouth. "I guess they don’t like each other very much," he surmised quietly as he helped Ferretti ease into an upright position for a much needed drink of water. Beside him, Teal’c groggily sat up as well and leaned heavily against the cage.

"Sure they do. They just… do that," Ferretti assured with a painful chuckle.

Carter tried to hide a smile as she opened the first aid kit and moved closer to Ferretti who was the most banged up at the moment. "Daniel? Can I get some light?"

"Sure," Daniel responded, realizing that daylight was fading fast. He turned back to the packs and fished out a couple flashlights, which he passed through the bars before pulling out two more MREs. "Spaghetti or frankfurters?"

"Spaghetti," Jack responded, accepting the parcel and immediately tearing into the tough plastic with his teeth.

Daniel toyed with the second one for a minute before returning it to one of the packs.

"You can have the spaghetti," Jack offered the chewed, half-open package.

"Go ahead," Daniel muttered leaning against the metal bars and closing his eyes. "I’m not really hungry."

"Daniel, you’ve got to eat."

"It’s okay, I had some bread and dried meat earlier. I just need to rest for a minute."

Jack snaked his hand out to feel Daniel’s forehead. "You are a little pink. I think you got too much sun today. Drink some water."

Daniel nodded, fumbling with his half-full canteen before managing a drink.

"See?" Ferretti exchanged an amused glance with Carter as she began to patch him up while Dillard held the light. "Best buds."

Teal’c looked at the MRE Sam had handed him and placed it on top of his makeshift pillow. Nausea was not something he was used to and he had no desire to vomit. Steeling himself, he staggered to his feet and made his way over to Jack and Daniel. "The queen was not receptive to the evacuation?" he asked as he gently lowered himself back to the ground.

Daniel’s eyes widened as he got a good look at the sick Jaffa. Knowing better than to fuss, he sighed and turned away. "You could say that. When she finally stopped trying to get me out of my pants, she started using my head for target practice. Don’t ask," he cut off Jack’s query before it left his mouth. "She doesn’t want me to be Desert Son and as long as I refuse to let them kill me, she can say that I’m not."

"You’re not," Jack re