Desert Son
By Roxie - belburg@aol.com


RATING: PG

WARNINGS: mild language

CATEGORY: Action/Adventure, Drama/Angst

SPOILERS: 1969

TIME FRAME: Season 5ish 

SUMMARY: Daniel is drawn in to the strange politics of a world waiting to 
be relocated to a better place. Is the price to help them too high?

DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 is owned by a lot of other people, not me. I 
mean no copyright infringement, this story is just for fun.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Many thanks to my beta Keerah for making this a much more 
readable story. 


                         *******************

"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 reminded him as he turned his attention back to his 
MRE, fishing out the main course and the long handled plastic spoon.

"I know," Daniel muttered quietly.

"But the people were willing to follow me," Dillard spoke up. "I mean 
you. Us."

"Yeah, at least before the city folk showed up," Jack agreed.

"Actually, that was part of the prophecy, too, right down to our ruse. I 
got the whole story on the way back."

"Well don't keep us in suspense," Jack encouraged, taking a bite of his 
dinner.

"Okay, long story short..."

"That'll be the day," Jack scoffed lightly. "Sorry, go ahead."

Daniel cut his eyes at Jack but continued his narrative anyway. "Some 
time ago, a young pregnant woman was praying at the stargate for the 
health of her unborn child. This was not unusual since they had a whole 
semi-religious fertility thing going with the gate. Her name was Olivia 
and she was frightened terribly when the chevrons began to light. As she 
got up to run away, a wormhole established and a man stepped through."

"Desert Son," Jack guessed.

"No, a prophet who foretold of Desert Son," Daniel corrected pointedly. 
"He gave Olivia two documents; one an in-depth description of the man and 
his life, and another step by step account of what would occur before and 
after this man arrived. After spreading the word to her people Olivia 
became the first in a long line of what the people considered to be 
oracles or seers, even though none of them actually had any precognitive 
abilities.

"Although the content of the documents was made public, Olivia shared the 
prophet's words only with her daughter when she came of age. They 
continued this way passing the wisdom down orally from generation to 
generation, mother to daughter. No one else knows what was said, thus 
keeping the power of the Oracle intact. Somewhere along the way they lost 
possession of one of the documents to the local head of state and two 
separate but closely related quasi-religions were formed."

"Two?"

"Yes, the group who followed the Oracle's teachings took the prophecy 
quite literally and remained close to the gate in spite of the worsening 
conditions."

"That's why the peasants were so eager to go through," Sam broke in, 
moving closer to her team as she packed away the first aid kit. "They 
really were expecting you. I mean Desert Son."

"Yes. But through the years the number of them dwindled as many of the 
younger, less devout people made their ways to the cities for an easier 
life. In fact, Claire herself is a descendant of Olivia," Daniel 
explained. "On the other hand, the city people, the followers of the 
monarchy, took the story of the prophet in a much more spiritual sense. 
They believe Desert Son to be something like an angel who accompanies the 
souls of the dead through the portal to heaven. They believe he has the 
power over life and death and for them to believe enough to go through 
the gate, Desert Son has to die and then come back to life."

"Been there, done that," Jack replied with a smirk. "And so have you."

Daniel snorted. "Yeah, but unless you've got a sarcophagus in your 
pocket, I'm not especially eager for a repeat performance."

"What I'm saying, Daniel, is that you've already died... a couple of 
times. Isn't that good enough?"

"No, I don't think so. I have no way to prove it," Daniel sighed 
unhappily. "The good news is Claire won't have me locked up or killed 
because that would cause the peasants to revolt. Right now they're 
willing to wait her out because the prophecy told them their exodus would 
be interrupted."

The group sat quietly for a few minutes while they digested the story. 
"So what happens now?" Ferretti asked at last.

"According to the tale, Desert Son willingly lays down his life, revives 
after a day and then leads all of the people through the stone ring and 
everyone lives happily ever after."

"How do they kill him?" Jack asked grimly.

"I'm not sure," Daniel hedged. "I understand there's some bleeding 
involved."

"Dial us home," Jack ordered abruptly, dropping the rest of his meal and 
grabbing his jacket. "Carter, get ready with the IDC, Dillard help 
Ferretti and I'll grab Teal'c. As soon as the cage is down, bolt for the 
gate."

"What? Why?" Daniel questioned rapidly as he reached through the bars and 
grasped his friend by the arm.

"Because we're getting the hell out of here."

"Jack, we can't just abandon these people. I'll talk to the queen again; 
I'll make her understand. I'm not going to let them kill me."

"Yeah, damn right you're not. Let the real Desert Son save them."

"Jack, I..." Daniel hesitated and released Jack's arm before exchanging a 
tentative glance with Teal'c. "What if I am Desert Son?" he asked very 
quietly.

Jack snorted in disbelief. "Nice to meet cha, Desert Son. I'm the Tooth 
Fairy and this is my good friend Santa Claus."

"They know things," Daniel insisted.

"Come on, Daniel," Jack all but pleaded. "You know how these people 
operate, right? They make all these vague predictions that could fit 
almost anybody."

"Not vague," Daniel argued. "They know very, very specific details about 
me, about my life. Claire keeps insisting to see my appendix scar. She 
knew Dillard wasn't Desert Son as soon as she saw his green eyes. Jack, 
she's named after my mother!"

"For cryin' out loud," Jack grumbled. "Dial the gate, Daniel. Now. We'll 
sort this out back on Earth."

"O'Neill," Teal'c warned, still intensely alert in spite of his illness.

Four large soldiers emerged from the darkness to form a half circle 
around Daniel, blocking him from the DHD. "It is time," one of them 
advised reverently, reaching down to him.

"Time for what?" Jack asked in alarm.

Daniel swallowed nervously and wiped his palm on his pants leg before 
accepting the offered hand. "I think I should probably go with them," he 
replied as the bigger man pulled him smoothly to his feet.

"No," Jack disagreed, grunting as he found his own footing. Behind him 
everyone but Ferretti got up as well. "Daniel, don't do it."

"I don't think I have a choice."

"Don't you hurt him," Jack threatened the guards as they led his friend 
away. "Dammit, Daniel, no bleeding!" he shouted. "That's an order!"

                         *******************

Torches and campfires illuminated the way as Daniel was escorted through 
the soldiers' camp and into the immense and far less organized area where 
the wagons and carriages had come to a stop. In spite of the slight 
differences in beliefs, the city people had also come prepared. A 
makeshift bakery was already baking bread in stone ovens in the back of a 
large metal-bottomed cart and tiny storefronts were setting up all 
around. Even a butcher shop had erected a small slaughter yard complete 
with a modest assortment of unsuspecting pigs, fowl, and even a few cows.

Families gathered outside whatever means of transportation had brought 
them, cooking their evening meals, talking softly among themselves of 
what the end of their journey would bring. Meats sizzled and stews 
bubbled over flames and the smells hung in the hot air to compete with 
the ever present odors of manure and urine. Although most of the herds 
had been scattered or already passed through the gate, their legacy lived 
on in the countless wooden wheels and the soles of everyone's shoes. And 
now the multitude of horses added to the mix.

This time instead of calling out as Daniel and his entourage passed, the 
citizens fell quiet. The atmosphere of expectancy and apprehension was 
palpable. As Daniel looked from face to face, the people slowly turned 
away, apparently saddened by his eminent demise. Daniel kept it to 
himself that he had no intention of sacrificing his life just to uphold 
their prophecy, knowing that no good would come of it if he did. Sooner 
or later they would all be packing up and heading back to the city when 
he failed to make a miraculous recovery.

Unexpectedly, the sprawl of the jumbled encampment stopped, forming an 
island of empty ground around a lone structure that hadn't been there 
earlier in the day. The soldiers gestured that Daniel should approach, 
but they remained on the edge of the clearing. Many others drifted out of 
the camp to join them on the periphery, forming a silent wall of 
humanity, ready to mourn his passing.

With one last glance over his shoulder, Daniel moved forward to meet the 
servant who waited for him halfway. He patiently lifted one foot and then 
the other as his boots were thoroughly cleaned, noting that the remainder 
of the path to the entrance had been raked free of animal droppings as 
well. When she finished, the girl smiled up at Daniel with a look of such 
pure hope that it caught him by surprise. Everyone else seemed so sad, so 
apprehensive of his supposedly looming death; the girl's faith was 
incredibly humbling. Fighting the urge to explain to her that he wasn't 
the one, Daniel merely touched her hair and smiled back at her gently. 
She impulsively reached up to peck him on the cheek before darting away 
and disappearing into the crowd.

Daniel watched her go before squaring his shoulders and advancing on the 
structure for round two with Claire. He entered the dwelling cautiously, 
taking in the rich textures and deep, earthy colors of the interior. More 
permanent than a tent, and yet less structured than a hut or cottage, its 
flowing fabric walls fit around a wooden frame and partially open roof. 
The floor was padded with thick rugs and covered so completely that no 
dirt showed at all. In spite of the heat, an open fire pit was the 
centerpiece of the comfortable room. A heavy scent of spice hung in the 
air and for the first time since he'd arrived on the planet, Daniel 
wasn't overpowered by the odor of dung.

A matronly little woman sat nestled amid satin cushions at the base of a 
simple altar, languidly winding yarn into a ball from the outstretched 
fingers of a small servant girl. Dressed unassumingly and all in black, 
she never-the-less exuded an air of authority.

"Excuse me," Daniel apologized, backing toward the door. "The queen 
wanted to see me. I must be in the wrong place."

The older woman graced him with a beatific smile. Gathering the yarn into 
her lap, she shooed the servant outside. "Come my dear," she beckoned, 
waving Daniel over to the scattered pillows around the fire. "It was I 
who sent for you."

"You must be the Oracle," Daniel surmised cautiously as he remained 
standing across from her on the other side of the pit.

"What happened to your face?"

Daniel fingered the tiny cut under his eye self-consciously. "Oh, uh, 
Claire... I mean the queen, clocked me with a jewelry box."

"You angered her?"

"I suppose."

"Good for you," the old woman laughed approvingly. "You may call me 
Alva," she added with a tiny bob of her head.

"Hello Alva, I'm Daniel. But I suppose you already know that."

"Yes. I have waited my entire life to meet you, Daniel," Alva replied 
coyly, narrowing her eyes at the twitch that teased the corner of 
Daniel's mouth. "I amuse you?"

"No! Not at all, that just sounded a lot like 'where have you been all 
my... life'..." Daniel trailed off. "Never mind. Um, no offense, but you 
made my friend very sick," he quickly changed the subject. "I don't 
suppose you have anything to make him feel better?"

"I am something of an apothecary," Alva conceded, reaching into a pouch 
on the floor and producing a scant handful of sawdust, agilely leaning 
forward to sprinkle it over the flame. The spicy scent seemed to blossom 
in the air. "Perhaps I could help him."

"Would you? Please?"

Carefully selecting another smaller bag from among those arranged next to 
the stone pit, Alva hefted it thoughtfully in her hand. "This will stir 
the creature within from its ennui," she assured.

"Thank you," Daniel sighed, warily circumventing the fire to take it from 
her. As his fingers grazed the velvety material, Alva pulled the bag 
away.

"But it will cost you."

"Of course it will," Daniel uttered in disgust as he pulled back his 
hand. "Let me guess, my life?"

"How wise you are," the Oracle teased, tucking the bag safely away behind 
her. "Come closer," she urged, lifting the ball of dyed yarn. "Help an 
old woman with her thread? Perhaps I will fashion you a scarf."

"Look, I'm gonna go," Daniel ground out angrily. "I'll leave instructions 
with someone on how to work the stargate and you and your people can save 
yourselves or you can stay here and fry. It's up to you."

"You would leave your friends?"

"No, we're not as helpless as you seem to think," Daniel replied as he 
turned to leave.

"Without my remedy, the beast inside the Dark One will die," Alva 
threatened as she nonchalantly straightened out the mess of fiber in her 
lap, "There is nothing else that will save it."

Daniel froze at the door but didn't turn around. "And if I don't 
cooperate, you won't give it to me."

"Is it not evil? Should we not kill it?" Alva asked maliciously.

"No," Daniel objected wheeling back on her. "Without it, Teal'c will die 
as well."

"Help me," Alva pouted, leaning forward to sprinkle more sawdust on the 
fire. This time the scent was sweeter and the smoke took on a yellowish 
hue as the flame sputtered and died down. "If you help me, I will help 
you. Come. Sit with me."

Clenching his jaw, Daniel bit back the scathing retort on the tip of his 
tongue. "What do you want me to do?" he asked in defeat, rounding the pit 
to drop down in front of her on a pillow.

"Such long fingers," Alva approved as she gripped his hands and 
positioned them in front of her, "So much better than those of the child 
for this task."

Daniel allowed her to position the filaments around his fingers and 
watched distractedly as she began to once again wind it into a ball. 
"What about Teal'c?" he asked, his mouth suddenly going dry.

"There is time for what must come," the old woman promised. "The poison 
is slow. When the deed is done, I will send the treatment to your 
friend."

"Look," Daniel implored, stopping to lick his lip. "I want to help your 
people. I really do. That's what I came here for, but I'm not willing to 
die when I don't have to. I am not the one you call Desert Son, I have no 
ability to rise from the dead."

"You don't doubt the prophecy, you doubt only yourself. So it was 
written," Alva soothed quietly, the yarn slipping quickly between her 
fingers as the ball grew.

Daniel found himself mesmerized by the blur of blue slipping away from 
his hands, one silky strand at a time. "So the fact that I'm skeptical 
only enhances your belief."

"Yes. Isn't that ironic?" Alva beamed. "However, you are correct. The 
death of Desert Son is merely a perversion by the monarchy long ago to 
dissuade any from unjustly claiming the title. The prophecy states only 
that Desert Son had met with death on several occasions and had come out 
victorious after each."

Feeling like he couldn't quite catch his breath, Daniel realized that he 
was sweating profusely in the hot, smoky tent. Colors seemed to fade in 
and out and the sight of the rapidly disappearing yarn suddenly made him 
queasy. He clenched his eyes shut and his hands faltered. "And yet you're 
still going to kill me. Why? To make a point?"

"No," Alva assured, slipping the remaining strands free and laying the 
ball aside. "I have vowed to Teal'c to watch over you and I will not 
break my promise. But for my people, all of my people to be persuaded, 
both sides of the issue must be satisfied. I am asking for your trust."

"How can I trust you?" Daniel scoffed dizzily as he toppled back into the 
pillows behind him. "You drugged me," he charged, drunkenly pointing a 
finger at the old woman.

Hands suddenly appeared on his arms as servants that he hadn't seen enter 
the tent began to remove his boots and jacket. Their faces were covered 
and several waved large fans to dissipate the smoke. Seemingly immune to 
its effects, Alva watched serenely as Daniel was lifted to lie on the 
altar. The servants disappeared as quickly and quietly as they had come.

"I don't submit my life freely," Daniel slurred stubbornly. "If I say 
that I do later, it's because of whatever I inhaled in that smoke."

"Hush, child," the Oracle replied moving to wipe his face with a cool, 
damp cloth. "First we must convince Claire that you are Desert Son. We 
only wish to ask you some questions. The drug merely ensures that you 
speak truthfully, it doesn't affect your judgment."

"I wouldn't lie," Daniel promised, enjoying the feel of the soothing 
cloth on his face and neck in spite of himself. "Unless I have to..."

"I know," Alva whispered. "Daniel, listen to me well. I am the last to 
know the secrets of the prophet."

"You didn't have a daughter?" Daniel asked, struggling to stay lucid.

"I did. But some years ago she married the king, turning her back on my 
teachings, betraying my beliefs. Therefore I did not impart to her my 
knowledge of the prophet's words."

"Claire is your granddaughter," Daniel guessed, making an effort to look 
at her.

"Yes," Alva smiled, extremely pleased that he followed her in spite of 
his state. "Now you and I will be the only two people to share the 
prophet's wisdom."

"What did he say?" Daniel asked expectantly, fighting to stay awake.

"He said 'sometimes fate needs a hand'."

Daniel frowned and dropped his head back to the altar. "That's it? That's 
the great big secret?" he asked in disappointment. He sighed and gave in 
to the growing need to close his burning eyes. A moment later, he was 
fast asleep.

Alva selected a large bag of herbs and carefully sifted through it to 
reveal another package hidden inside. Taking a large knife from its 
sheath under the altar, she tore through the wrapper and liberally coated 
the blade with the black juice of the berries inside, taking great pains 
not to touch it with her bare hand. When the liquid was fully dry, she 
returned the knife to its scabbard and tossed the remains of the package 
into the embers in the fire pit. The flame rose up once again to consume 
all evidence of her deception.

                         *******************

"Teal'c? Stay with us," Jack requested as he tapped a finger against a 
hot, dry cheek, resulting in a flutter of dark eyelashes but nothing 
more. "How's Junior?" he asked Carter who was once again wrist deep in 
Teal'c's pouch.

"Not good," Sam reported, withdrawing her hand and wiping it unashamedly 
on Daniel's bandana. "It's not responding. I think it's in a coma."

"How do you know it's not dead?" Dillard asked, studying the incised X on 
the Jaffa's abdomen in repulsed fascination.

"Because it's not," Sam insisted.

"Dammit," Jack murmured to himself worriedly. It was bad enough to have 
one team member out of contact, but far worse to have one badly injured 
and another dying right in front of him.

"O'Neill," Teal'c croaked out, breaking in to Jack's bleak thoughts.

"Right here, buddy."

"What of Daniel Jackson?"

Jack helped his friend lift his head while Sam held a canteen to his 
parched lips. "I wish I knew," he answered belatedly.

                         *******************

"What is your name?" a deep voice asked, breaking in to Daniel's peaceful 
catnap.

"Huh?" Daniel painstakingly opened his eyes, realizing immediately even 
in his drugged condition that his glasses were gone. He tried to raise 
his head, but the effort left him panting for breath. The room was dim 
but the firelight threw darker shadows onto the walls all around him and 
he realized that he was surrounded by people he couldn't see. "Alva?" he 
called out, feeling terribly defenseless at the moment.

"I am here," Alva soothed from right next to his ear. Calming fingers 
shifted through his hair. "Answer the question, Daniel."

"Who is that man?" Daniel queried drunkenly.

"He is a scribe. He has come to take down your story so that we may 
compare it with the prophecy."

"This is not necessary," Claire's impatient tone sounded from across the 
room and Daniel squinted to try to find her in the dark corner. "He has 
already refused us."

"You have heard his words," Alva scolded quietly, "And yet you have not 
listened to his heart. We will hear him now."

Claire harrumphed, but held her tongue, unintentionally demonstrating who 
in the room held the true power.

"What is your name?" the scribe asked again.

"You already know my name," Daniel protested wearily. "It's Daniel." 
Closing his eyes, he listened distractedly to the scratch of a quill 
against parchment.

"Tell us of your life."

"I...I don't know where to begin," Daniel stammered, unable to gather his 
thoughts into anything that made sense. "Nothing much to tell."

"Begin with your birth," Claire prodded with annoyance, moving to stand 
at his side.

Daniel sighed, squinting one eye open to glance up at her. "Well, I'm 
sure I was there, but I don't really remember too much about it," he 
mumbled, earning a sharp rap on the knee. "Ow. This must be the torture 
portion of the evening."

"He is too strong willed for this," Claire decreed. "He is wasting our 
time."

"Daniel," Alva whispered, leaning close to his ear. "For every minute you 
do not cooperate, your friend suffers needlessly."

"What?" Daniel asked, jerking his eyes fully open to look at her in 
dismay, his mind clearing rapidly.

"Teal'c is ill," Alva reminded him gently. "When you answer our 
questions, I will send the antidote."

"Send it now and I'll tell you whatever you want to know about my life. 
But you have to understand, there are other... things I can't tell you 
about," Daniel pleaded.

"We have no interests in other things."

"You'll send the cure?"

"After," Alva promised.

Daniel acquiesced reluctantly with an awkward nod, as Alva pushed him 
back down to rest.

"He'll be much more cooperative now," Alva assured the queen, smiling 
smugly. "Tell us of your life, Daniel," she requested again. "Tell us 
everything."

                         *******************

Hours later, after hastily relaying countless personal details of his 
life from childhood to college to losing his wife, Daniel Jackson 
slumbered fitfully on the altar. His fatigued audience left the tent one 
by one until only the queen, the oracle, and an exhausted scribe 
remained.

Reaching under the altar, Alva reverently removed a sealed package with 
one of the sacred documents inside. Although she had studied copies of it 
until she could quote the passages verbatim and guarded it faithfully her 
entire adult life, she had never once opened the box containing the 
original. She turned to her granddaughter.

"Shall we compare the stories?" she asked holding the ancient sachet in 
one hand and reaching to take the new scroll from the scribe.

Claire shook her head wearily. "I have heard enough."

"But not enough to believe? What will convince you?"

Moving silently toward the sleeping man, Claire gently untucked Daniel's 
tee-shirt from his pants. Alva joined her and tugged the belted waistband 
down sufficiently to reveal the narrow, slightly angled scar running 
along the right side of his lower abdomen. She motioned the scribe 
forward to look as well so that he could record the finding.

With shaky fingers, Claire traced the one imperfection on the warm skin. 
"It is so," she declared tearfully, pulling her hand away.

"Yes," Alva agreed with a tender smile as she straightened Daniel's 
clothes. "Leave us," she instructed the scribe as he finished with the 
document and set it aside.

"What do we do now?" Claire asked, sounding fearful. "What if the 
prophecy doesn't come true?"

"Where is your faith?" Alva rebuked, bending to retrieve the knife. She 
slid it out slowly and let the firelight flicker ominously on the blade, 
pleased to see no trace of the toxin.

Claire's eyes went wide as the old woman pressed the handle into her 
hand. "He hasn't willingly submitted," Claire objected, pushing the knife 
away.

"But he has," Alva lied deftly, insistently offering the weapon to her 
queen. "He spoke his true intentions to me earlier before you arrived."

Claire numbly accepted the knife and held it uncomfortably. "What do I 
do?" she asked.

"Kill him."

"I... I can't."

"You must. As queen, you must be the one to bring first blood. It was 
written." Alva twisted the prophecy to meet her needs, knowing the 
younger woman was not as devote as perhaps she should be. Hoping she 
wouldn't know the difference.

"No," Claire refused, lowering the blade in defeat. "I can't do it."

"There, there, child," Alva comforted. "We'll think of something."

"I'm not a child," Claire retorted petulantly. "I am the leader of my 
people. I must fulfill their destiny," she insisted, however pale and 
unsteady she became as she raised the knife over Daniel's chest.

"Have you not already drawn his blood once?" Alva questioned abruptly, 
turning Daniel's head slightly into the light to reveal the small bruise 
and cut under his eye. He mumbled inarticulately in his sleep, but didn't 
wake.

"I did that?" Claire gasped, lowering the knife to study the small 
laceration.

"Yes. In a fit of anger I believe," Alva chided. "But I suppose it does 
get you off the hook. If you don't have the stomach to slit his throat 
then I would be willing to do it for you."

"Why?" Claire questioned suspiciously.

"Are you not of the loins of my own daughter? Even if you were denied to 
me when you were born, are you not of my flesh?" Alva poured it on. "Do I 
love you any less for our differences?"

Claire's lip trembled as she fought back the tears that threatened to 
fall. "No, Grandmamma," she whispered, sounding like very much like a 
child after all.

"Return in the morning," Alva ordered matter-of-factly, patting the 
younger woman on the arm. "It will be done."

With a grateful nod, Claire hurried out of the tent. Exceedingly thankful 
not to have to be the one to fulfill the prophecy, she wanted to be as 
far away as possible when it happened.

Alva sagged with relief as she let out the breath she had been holding 
and placed a hand in the middle of Daniel's chest. "The lengths I go to 
for you," she commented, allowing a doting smile.

                         *******************

Fading in and out, Daniel tried to follow the conversation, but the 
fervent whispers didn't seem to be directed at him. After a while someone 
lifted his head to place the rim of a cup to his lips. Rousing a little, 
Daniel eagerly sipped the cool, sweet liquid, disgruntled when the 
challis was pulled away. The juice eased his dry throat but he didn't 
enjoy the relief long before the strong urge to sleep began to pull him 
back under.

"Rest," Alva's voice appealed from somewhere above as gentle fingers 
caressed his eyelids. With a soft sigh, Daniel obeyed.

                         *******************

Alva waited until she was certain the man before her was completely under 
the spell of her concoction. His breathing was slow and steady, but 
perceptible with only a glance and his pulse still pounded steadily 
against her fingertips as she pressed them against his wrist. Dipping one 
corner of a clean rag into a cup of strong alcohol, she carefully 
cleansed his throat and let it air dry as she retrieved the prepared 
knife.

Knowing her victim was far beyond feeling anything, Alva nevertheless 
hesitated. She took a deep breath and tried to calm her unsteady hands 
before taking great care to make the cut with the tainted blade. Stepping 
back, she admired her handiwork, pleased with the results. Deceptively 
shallow, the laceration appeared much worse than it was. Blood ran freely 
for a moment but soon began to slow, due in part to the properties of the 
drug.

Slowly, as the night passed, Daniel's chest rose less noticeably and his 
pulse faded to almost nothing. Fighting the urge to cover him, Alva knew 
for her plan to work his body heat must dissipate before morning as well. 
An hour before sunrise a servant peeked in from the well-hidden back 
entrance of the dwelling with the final piece of the plan.

Alva quickly gestured him in. He approached the altar with a wooden pail 
of still warm blood from the slaughter yard. Alva stepped back and the 
servant poured the contents of the small bucket onto the chest of the 
deeply drugged man, creating a gruesome if misleading display.

"Take this to the friends of the Dark One," Alva instructed the servant 
as he prepared to go. "Have them give him a pinch under the tongue until 
the beast within revives. Tell them it comes from Daniel, but tell them 
nothing else."

Mindful of the crimson rivulets that quickly found their way to stain the 
pillows and rug beneath the altar, Alva wrapped herself in a shawl to 
keep watch over her charge for what little remained of the night.

The trusted servant bowed and disappeared back the way he had come, 
taking the incriminating bucket with him after wiping the rim with his 
hands so as not to leave a trail. Outside, the vigil continued in front 
of the tent, but no one saw the man move through the darker shadows 
behind it.

                         *******************

Teal'c moaned softly and rolled his head from side to side, but remained 
unaware of his surroundings. Sam felt his clammy skin and looked up at 
the Colonel worriedly, fearful that a fever would soon follow.

Shaking his head, Jack turned back to continue pacing, ever watchful for 
any sign that the stargate might activate. Thankful for the cool night 
air and the slightly diminished smell at the moment, he knew when the sun 
came up everything would notch back up to just short of unbearable. He 
tried not to let his worries about his teammates dominate his thoughts.

Movement in the darkness behind a nearby tent caught his attention and he 
tracked a man as he stealthily approached the cage. Meeting him at the 
back corner, Jack crouched by the bars, aware as Dillard dropped down 
behind him.

"This is from Daniel," the man whispered in haste. "Place a pinch under 
the sick man's tongue to restore the beast in his belly. You may have to 
do it more than once." Pressing a tiny cloth bag through the iron bars, 
he rose to leave.

"What the hell is this?" Jack questioned gruffly, reaching outside the 
cage to grab the man's black stained hand and prevent his escape. "Get a 
light," he instructed Dillard and was instantly rewarded with an intense 
beam, which turned the black splotches brownish-red.

Blinking for a second to adjust to the sudden glow, Jack stared in horror 
at the unmistakable drying blood covering the man's hands. Disturbed by 
the gory sight, Jack nonetheless released the visitor's arm and allowed 
him to slink back into the patchwork of shadows as a soldier approached 
from the other side. He slipped the bag into a pocket and slid down to 
sit on the ground, wiping away the gooey residue now marring his own 
sweaty palm.

"What's going on?" the guard asked, advancing on the cell with a torch in 
hand.

Dillard flicked off the flashlight and rose to his feet. "Just taking a 
piss," he informed the man, pretending to button his fly. "That okay with 
you?"

The soldier snorted and moved back to his position near the DHD.

"Carter," Jack called softly, tossing her the bag as he accepted 
Dillard's hand and let the marine hoist him off the ground.

"What did he say?" Sam asked, opening the sack to run her fingers through 
the minute grains inside.

"He said to put some under Teal'c's tongue," Jack explained. "He said it 
was from Daniel."

Sam carefully isolated one granule and touched it experimentally to the 
end of her own tongue. "Oh. It tingles." She turned to spit out the 
bitter remains.

"Wrong patient," Jack growled, snatching the packet away, spilling some 
on the ground.

"Sorry, sir, I was just..." Sam started to explain. "Are you sure about 
this?" she asked instead.

"Why would they try to finish him off now?" Dillard queried, anxiously 
standing guard over them. "I mean, he's already pretty sick. But as far 
as they know, none of us are any threat locked up in this cage."

Sam sighed and tentatively nodded her agreement. "I know, but why did 
they poison him in the first place?"

"Look, Hammond's gonna be calling in less than six hours if he hasn't 
heard from us in the meantime," Jack reasoned. "Do you think Teal'c can 
hold on that long?"

Turning to examine Teal'c's eerily pale skin in the faint pre-dawn light, 
Sam shrugged uncomfortably. "I don't know, sir. I doubt it."

"Okay," Jack decided. "Let's give it a try."

"Wow," Sam muttered, perking up considerably as she poked at her now 
strangely numb tongue, "I feel like I've had a whole pot of coffee."

"So it's a stimulant," Jack mused keenly.

Sam shrugged again. "Yeah, that's what it feels like."

"Do it," Jack requested, handing the tiny pouch back to her before 
levering Teal'c's jaw open.

Taking a delicate pinch of the gritty substance, Sam positioned it in the 
space under Teal'c's tongue. She closed the bag carefully, wiped her 
fingers to remove the sandy residue, and sat back to wait.

"Anything?" Jack asked right away.

"I think we should give it a minute, sir," Sam advised patiently. "I 
mean, I didn't feel anything at first either and now I feel like I could 
run a marathon."

"So you don't think we should we do it again?"

"Sir," Sam pleaded.

"Right," Jack sighed, settling back. "We'll give it a minute. How's 
Ferretti?"

"He's in and out," Dillard supplied. "I'm pretty sure he's got a 
concussion."

"Ya think?"

Teal'c moaned, but not any longer or louder than he had since he'd been 
unconscious.

"Hit him again, Carter," Jack ordered.

"Yes, sir," Sam responded reluctantly, taking another pinch and 
depositing it into place.

Nothing happened for several seconds, and then suddenly Teal'c's eyelids 
twitched. Just as Jack leaned in for a better look, a large hand grabbed 
him roughly around the throat.

"Kell shak kree, Apophis!" Teal'c shouted, sitting up and squeezing hard 
as he glared unseeing at his captive.

"Teal'c!" Jack squeaked out through the vise grip around his vocal 
chords. "It's me!"

"Teal'c, let him go," Sam urged desperately, adding her hands to Jack's 
against the deadly grasp.

Dillard captured Teal'c from behind, attempting to break his 
concentration, but proved no problem to the determined Jaffa. "Damn!" 
Dillard swore as he was thrown off by one shake of the large shoulders, 
landing perilously close to a knocked out Ferretti.

"What's going on in there?" the guard shouted once again, drawn this time 
by the noise of the struggle.

Dillard regrouped and jumped onto Teal'c's back, squeezing an arm tightly 
around his neck, but achieving no obvious reaction. "Let go!" he 
commanded loudly.

"Teal'c," Jack managed again as his vision began to fade.

"O'Neill?" Teal'c queried suddenly, quickly releasing his friend.

"Aurgh," Jack grunted as he sank away from the bruising fingers, blacking 
out briefly.

Teal'c stared at his own hands and then gently but firmly disengaged 
Dillard's arm from around his neck. "What has transpired?" he asked in 
confusion.

"You tried to snuff out the Colonel," Dillard explained breathlessly.

"Sir?" Sam called worriedly, checking a pulse, relieved to find Jack's 
breathing unlabored.

"What happened?" Ferretti muttered, waking for the first time in several 
hours, his soft question nearly drowned out by the group of disconcerted 
soldiers gathering outside the cell.

"What is going on?" one of them insisted.

"Nothing," Sam spat at him. "Everything is fine now."

"Yeah. Peachy," Jack agreed, remaining flat on his back as he came 
around. "Guess we should have waited before that second dose, huh?"

"Are you injured," Teal'c asked with concern as he helped Jack into a 
sitting position.

"No, no," Jack denied. "Been better, but nothing's broke. No blood, no 
foul."

"We're fine," Sam reiterated to the soldiers. Slowly they dispersed and 
melted back into the camp, the first rays of the sun giving them an 
eerie, otherworldly appearance, appropriately enough.

Jack rubbed his neck and closed his eyes. "Teal'c? You okay?"

"Indeed," came the deep rumbled reply.

"Junior?"

"All is well, O'Neill," Teal'c assured as he got up and began to work out 
a little nervous energy. "When my symbiote calms sufficiently, I shall 
attempt Kel-no-reem."

"Yeah, that might take a while, Teal'c. We might have inadvertently 
overdosed you a little," Sam admitted guiltily, still feeling a bit keyed 
up herself.

In the distance, a chorus of voices split the peaceful morning air with a 
wail of despair. The sound grew louder and closer as word passed from 
camp to camp. "It is done," one of the guards guessed sadly, dropping to 
a knee in prayer.

"What?" Jack asked urgently, moving over to the bars. "What is done?"

"Desert Son is no more," another soldier explained.

"No, it had to be voluntary," Dillard disagreed. "That's what Doctor 
Jackson said. Surely he wouldn't just let them kill him. Would he?"

"Oh God," Sam muttered, looking down at the pouch in her hand and over to 
a healthy if somewhat jittery Teal'c.

Teal'c's eyes widened subtly at the implication that Daniel had offered 
himself up in return for the small bag of medicine. He clenched his jaw 
to keep from crying out his anger and pain.

Stunned but not entirely surprised, Jack closed his eyes and grabbed the 
nearest bar, unaware as the pressure turned his knuckles white.

"He wouldn't do that, would he?" Dillard asked again.

"Obviously you don't know Daniel," Jack responded, his voice thick with 
suppressed emotion. "Dammit," he snapped, smacking the cage with his 
hand. "I said no bleeding."

                         *******************

As the temperature continued to climb, so did the odor. Jack sat and 
numbly stared at the ground between his feet. They weren't due to check 
in for another four hours and it would probably be half an hour after 
that until Hammond would try to make contact, so they sat and waited for 
the inevitable wormhole to take out the cage. He and Teal'c would charge 
for their weapons and this time he had no qualms about putting down 
anybody who got in their way.

Before he could pass on the plan, a commotion further back in the camp 
caught his attention. Rising to his feet, Jack paced the end of the cage 
trying to identify the cause, but lost interest quickly when a soldier 
stepped up to the cell and began unlocking the door.

"What's going on?" Jack queried sullenly.

The man merely pulled the door open and walked away.

"Weapons," Jack ordered making a break for the wagon, but Teal'c was 
already two steps ahead of him. No one tried to stop them as they quickly 
gathered their impressive array of firepower. "Get Ferretti home," he 
added. "Me and Teal'c are going after Daniel."

Dillard and Sam roused Ferretti enough to get him to his feet and hustle 
him out of the cage, then they headed straight for the DHD. Sam started 
to dial but froze when a servant girl appeared in front of the gate and 
reverently placed a pair of boots and familiar jacket on the steps of the 
dais.

"Sir," Sam called out, as a procession led by the queen slowly made its 
way through the camp and toward the stargate. She choked back a gasp as 
she caught sight of the body on the stretcher carried solemnly by a group 
of soldiers.

Jack handed off the excess weapons to Dillard as he passed the DHD and 
pushed his way through the gathering crowd with his P-90. He faltered 
slightly as the stretcher was lowered onto the dais and the soldiers 
shifted out of the way, leaving the blood spattered body in full view.

Wavering for only a second Jack moved close enough to hold a hand over 
the too pale face. Feeling no movement of air, he slipped his hand down 
to the side of the bloody neck not marred by the vicious looking wound. 
Closing his eyes to concentrate, he willed a pulse to beat, believing for 
a hopeful second that he felt one. But the skin under his fingers was far 
too cool and the amount of blood was too much. As much as he wanted to, 
there was no denying that Daniel was dead.

Aware of a stifled gasp next to him, he pulled his gaze away from the 
tranquil features of his best friend to glance at a stunned Carter, 
Teal'c right behind her. "Dial us up," he whispered hoarsely.

Sam nodded as she quickly wiped away her tears and disappeared into the 
growing sea of soldiers and families, rich and poor alike. Teal'c bent 
and gently gathered Daniel into his arms as Jack picked up Daniel's 
things, strangely heartened to see a pair of glasses stuck into the top 
of one of the boots. He listened numbly as Dillard warned the people to 
stand back. An old woman in black tried to approach him, but Teal'c 
growled at her with such ferocity that Jack wondered if his arms hadn't 
been full if he wouldn't have struck her.

The wormhole took out almost the entire front half of the iron cage as 
well as scorching the gory stretcher left on the dais. Frightened by the 
violent display, the people jumped back, murmurs of worry and sudden 
fears of reprisal sweeping through the growing masses. Wordlessly, Sam 
punched in the IDC before helping Dillard get Ferretti up the steps. They 
waited for Teal'c to carry Daniel through first and then followed.

Jack paused and looked back at the crowd. "We could have saved you," he 
said simply. "I hope you burn," he added, glaring directly at the queen 
before turning to go. "Oh, that's right, you're going to."

                         *******************

After confirmation of the iris code, General Hammond made his way to the 
gateroom, confident that SG-1 had managed to find a solution to the 
problem with the natives of P49-738. He stopped dead at the foot of the 
ramp when Teal'c stepped through stoically carrying another man, dark 
stains standing out starkly against the tan and brown of the uniform. 
Expecting to see the young marine lieutenant, Hammond was stunned to 
realize it was Doctor Jackson instead.

"Medical team to the gateroom," Davis' voice echoed over the intercom 
immediately.

"Teal'c! What happened?" the general asked as Major Carter and Dillard 
all but carried a gravely injured Ferretti through the gate.

"Daniel Jackson is dead," Teal'c answered morosely, refusing to 
relinquish his burden to the concerned SFs who surrounded him.

Doctor Fraiser burst into the room a moment later and made a beeline for 
Teal'c.

"Janet," Sam called. "Ferretti needs you."

Confused, the doctor changed her course and helped to settle the wounded 
man on a stretcher, glancing back to check on Daniel. Sam shook her head 
sadly and moved over to stand next to Teal'c, reaching up to absently 
stroke the soft brown hair of the head resting against his shoulder.

Just then O'Neill stepped through the event horizon. "Shut it down," he 
demanded, watching as the medics swept Ferretti away.

"Colonel?" Hammond questioned urgently. "What the hell happened?"

"They killed him," Jack explained, a cold, hard expression on his face. 
"To fulfill that damned prophecy of theirs, they killed Daniel."

"I believe in order to save my life, Daniel Jackson offered his own," 
Teal'c added guiltily.

"I say we lock that God forsaken place out of the dialing computer," Jack 
urged, his jaw set in stone.

"We'll discuss it later," Hammond soothed in his soft southern drawl. 
"Right now let's get you all to the infirmary."

                         *******************

Jack let the nurse take his vital signs and clean his various cuts and 
abrasions, but he kept his eyes on the curtained off area where Daniel 
had been taken and left alone. As always, worst come, first served, so 
Ferretti and the walking wounded took precedence over the dead.

After what seemed like forever, Ferretti was wheeled away to the CT 
scanner and Fraiser was freed up to give the once over to the rest of the 
team. Teal'c was badly in need of Kel-no-reem, but appeared otherwise 
unharmed, physically at least. Because he had been drugged, Janet asked 
him to stick around for a few minutes until his blood work came back.

Between Sam and Dillard, they had a lot of bruises and were slightly 
dehydrated but Janet released them almost immediately when they promised 
to push fluids for a few days. After they'd been discharged, both of them 
continued to linger until Janet put her foot down, insisting they go get 
something to eat and rest before the scheduled briefing in a few hours.

Finally, the doc moved toward Jack, pulling out her penlight. "I 
understand you had a loss of consciousness?" she grilled, all business.

"How do you do that?" Jack gaped, not having heard anyone mention a word 
about his injuries.

"That's my job," she replied matter-of-factly, shining the light in one 
eye and then the other. "Headache?" she asked when he flinched.

"Not bad."

"Nausea?"

Oh yeah, Jack was sick to his stomach all right, but it didn't have 
anything to do with the little bump on his head. He shook his head no in 
answer.

"If the pain persists or you experience blurred vision or excess nausea, 
let me know and we'll get a head CT on you, too."

"Whatever," Jack sighed indifferently. "What about... Daniel?"

"Standard procedure," Janet muttered, managing to keep a professional 
demeanor as she palpated his neck. "There's some nice bruising on your 
throat."

"Yeah, never give a Jaffa a Jolt Cola," Jack deadpanned, shooting an 
apologetic grimace to Teal'c on the next bed over. "Standard procedure, 
that means an autopsy," he persisted.

A little misty eyed, Janet nodded an affirmation.

"Will you do it?"

"No," Janet choked out. "Doctor Arnett from the Academy Hospital usually 
handles that for us. He's on his way in now."

"He's good, right?" Jack inquired doggedly. "A decent guy?"

Janet nodded again and tried to swallow the lump in her throat. "Yes, 
he's a well respected pathologist. He'll take good care of... of Doctor 
Jackson. He'll be very thorough."

"Okay," Jack agreed softly.

A medic presented Janet the latest labs and she quickly scanned them, 
apparently pleased with the results.

"You two are free to go. Teal'c, I'd like you to meditate as soon as 
possible."

"I do not believe that would be possible at this time, Doctor Fraiser," 
Teal'c replied, still a little twitchy and looking as grim as Janet had 
ever seen him.

"As soon as you can then," Janet reiterated. "Maybe a hot shower will 
help."

Teal'c looked dubious, but bowed his head in acknowledgement anyway. The 
medic returned with Ferretti and Janet glanced towards Daniel's bed 
before joining them.

Having finished up with the rest of the team and completed the necessary 
paperwork, two of the nurses disappeared behind the curtain where Daniel 
lay. From their movement and hushed conversation, it was obvious that 
they were undressing and cleaning up the body. Straining to hear every 
word, Jack waited the entire twenty minutes until they were done, Teal'c 
standing statue still at his side.

"Let's get out of here," Jack requested as the nurses wheeled the 
stretcher past them, a pristine white sheet covering Daniel head to toe.

                         *******************

After settling Major Ferretti into the ICU, Doctor Fraiser joined the 
debrief already in progress. With Dillard sitting unawares in Daniel's 
place, it would have been easy to pretend that all was well with SG-1 and 
that the archeologist had simply gotten another, more severe haircut. But 
when Dillard glanced up at her, the illusion was shattered.

"Sorry I'm late," Janet uttered, taking a seat next to Sam.

"How's Lou?" Jack asked quietly.

"Actually, he's lucky to be alive," Janet informed the group. "If you'd 
waited another few hours, I doubt he would be."

"What's his prognosis?" the general questioned worriedly.

"Well, he's going to be out of action for a little while, but with the 
proper care I think he'll be just fine in the long run," Janet assured, 
opening the file she had been handed on her way out of the infirmary and 
scanning it briefly.

Jack nodded and managed a tiny smile. "That's great."

"Oh my," Janet exclaimed, reading through the lab report one more time 
and a lot more thoroughly.

"What?" Sam asked, leaning closer to try to read over the doctor's 
shoulder, noticing that the file had Daniel's name on it.

"Well Daniel didn't bleed out," Janet announced, sounding as stunned as 
everyone else.

"Of course he did," Jack argued. "I saw it. You saw it."

"The sample taken from his uniform wasn't his blood," Janet insisted. "It 
was animal blood, probably from a pig or some other type of alien swine."

"Why?" Jack asked, leaning forward in his seat. "Why would they do that?"

"Probably for show," Sam guessed, looking ill at the notion. "I mean, I 
had no problem realizing he was... gone with just a glance."

"If he did not bleed to death, why then is Daniel Jackson deceased?" 
Teal'c queried more directly.

"I'm not sure," Janet muttered, turning the page to glance through the 
toxicology data. "The autopsy will tell us more, but according to this 
there were at least three different drugs in his system and... Oh my 
God!"

"What?" Jack asked in concern.

"Oh my God, the autopsy," Janet almost shouted as she jumped to her feet 
and ran to the door. "Call the morgue," she instructed, pausing for only 
a second. "Stop the autopsy!"

"Do it," Hammond ordered, pulling rank and following as Teal'c and Jack 
bolted from the room after Doctor Fraiser.

Sam exchanged a confused glance with Dillard as she raced to the phone.

                         *******************

"...Caucasian male, mid to late thirties. Weight one hundred eighty-four 
pounds, height seventy-two inches..."

Hearing came back first as a voice broke the depths of the void where he 
drifted and led him back bit by bit to the edge of consciousness. 
Gradually becoming aware of the cold, hard surface he was laying on, 
Daniel assumed he was still on the altar in Alva's tent. However as his 
sense of smell returned, he knew that to be incorrect. The stench of 
manure overlaid with spice was replaced by a strong antiseptic odor and a 
faint hint of old blood. Suddenly a bright light burned its way past his 
eyelids.

Still unable to move or talk, Daniel listened to the words and began to 
understand that he was about to be mistakenly vivisected. Pushing back an 
overwhelming sense of panic, he tried in vain to force a sound from his 
lips or move an arm, a leg, a finger... anything. Physically unaffected 
by his own terror, he continued to inhale and exhale almost 
imperceptibly, in spite of the growing need to take a deep breath. The 
inability of his lungs to work properly as he became alert was horrifying 
and he felt the crush of suffocation rapidly descending. He realized that 
he would probably be dead before the first cut was made.

"...but the eighteen centimeter, superficial laceration does not appear 
to be the cause of death as the carotid artery remains intact..."

Pain shot down Daniel's neck as a probe was inserted into the cut and 
worked around in the tissue. He tried to scream, hoping the agony would 
be the catalyst to breaking through, but his body steadfastly refused to 
react to the signals from his brain. As he began to succumb to the lack 
of oxygen, Daniel made one last ditch effort to shout. A tiny gasp 
escaped his lips.

"Aw," the clinical tone continued as the unintentional torture stopped. 
"We've got a postmortem escape of air from the lungs. The bane of many a 
medical student," the voice added lightly. In the background, a phone 
began to ring, but Daniel was too busy silently fighting for his life to 
notice.

                         *******************

"Could somebody get that please? Hello?" Doctor Arnett called. He sighed 
and went back to work, curious as always about what had killed the poor, 
unidentified soldier before him.

"I'll begin the internal exam with a Y incision," he persisted, choosing 
a scalpel and positioning it over the corpse's right clavicle.

The continual ringing of the phone distracted him again and he turned to 
glance out the small window on the door. A female airman who had been 
stationed at the desk had seemed quite disturbed when she had viewed the 
body and he had simply assumed that she hadn't worked in the morgue for 
very long. It hadn't occurred to him at the time that she might have 
known the man. Now she was nowhere to be seen and the phone was ringing 
off the hook.

Thinking it might be his office calling, Doctor Arnett laid the scalpel 
back on the Mayo stand and pulled off his already slightly soiled gloves, 
tossing them in the trash before reaching up to turn off the microphone 
hanging over the gurney. "Don't go anywhere," he advised his patient 
absently as he pushed through the door and grabbed the phone just as it 
stopped its incessant noise.

"Hello?" Doctor Arnett greeted cheerfully as he picked up the receiver, 
only to find the line already dead. With a resigned sigh, he made his way 
back to the situation at hand. "Sorry about that," he apologized 
dutifully.

Turning away for a moment to don fresh gloves, he missed the slight 
twitch of the body's right hand. He frowned as he turned the mic back on.

"There appears to be some bluish discoloration around the mouth that I 
didn't notice before," he reported. "Very odd." He lifted the scalpel and 
pressed it against the cool flesh.

"Stop!" a woman in a lab coat screamed as she burst into the room, making 
him jump enough to accidentally dig the blade slightly into the chest. 
Much to his surprise, a stream of fresh blood oozed from the wound and 
trickled down, bringing up chill bumps on the supposedly dead flesh.

"Doctor Fraiser? What the devil is going on?" he demanded, dropping the 
scalpel and stumbling away from the table.

"Doc?" a grey-headed man queried urgently as he rushed into the room with 
more men hot on his heels.

"Medical team, now!" Fraiser shouted, rushing towards the dead man. "Get 
me an ambu bag," she requested before realizing where she was.

"A what?" someone asked.

"Forget it," the doctor muttered, positioning the cadaver's head and then 
unbelievably pressing her lips to the cold, blue ones. The chest rose 
easily under her ministrations as she blew breath after breath into the 
body.

"Excuse me," Doctor Arnett ventured, ignored as he was gently deposited 
out of the way by an extremely serious looking mountain of a man with a 
strange tattoo on his forehead. "What's going on?"

"Do you want me to do compressions?" the grey haired man asked anxiously.

Fraiser stopped long enough to palpate the neck. "No. I've got a weak 
pulse," she advised, tears streaming down her face as she went back to 
breathing for the supposedly dead man.

Another taller woman stormed breathlessly into the room as if she had run 
a long way in a short time. "Couldn't get an answer, sir" she panted. 
"Holy Hanna."

A medical team arrived, forcing everyone further into the small room and 
filling it to capacity. Everyone spoke at once, but as Doctor Fraiser 
stopped her frantic mouth to mouth in lieu of bagging the patient, her 
voice carried above all the rest.

"Give me a hundred percent oxygen, move it. Two lines LR. Kelly, I need 
some Edrophonium Chloride, stat."

"We don't have that in the med box."

"Well get some!"

"Yes ma'am!" the nurse shouted, pushing her way out of the room for a 
frantic run back to the infirmary.

The onlookers were sandwiched even closer together as a medic wheeled a 
gurney into the room parking it along side the autopsy table.

"On three," Fraiser ordered and everyone grabbed onto the sheet under the 
naked man to slide him over. "One, two, three! Call ahead and get a 
warming blanket ready..."

Doctor Arnett stared wide-eyed as his subject was covered and carted away 
in a rolling rush of emergency interventions. The non-medical portion of 
the group followed a little slower, appearing to be as shocked by the 
goings on as he was.

The grey haired man stopped in the door and glared at him. "Don't you 
ever check a pulse?" he growled.

"Not once in thirty years," Arnett responded numbly, collapsing onto a 
metal stool.

"Around here you might want to revise that policy," the man advised 
sincerely, before disappearing out the door with enough force to leave it 
swinging wildly behind him.

"Actually," Doctor Arnett sighed to himself. "It might be time to start 
thinking about retirement."

                         *******************

As they rolled into the infirmary, Kelly met them at the door and pressed 
a loaded syringe into Doctor Fraiser's hand. Even as they moved Daniel 
over to the bed with the warmer in place, Janet began pushing the drug. 
"Draw up another dose just in case."

"Do you want a vent?" another nurse asked as she covered Daniel with a 
warm blanket.

"If this works, we won't need one," Janet replied, pulling the needle out 
of the line and watching for any improvement. "Come on, Daniel," she 
whispered urgently.

"Doc?" Jack asked anxiously, lining up with the rest of his team and the 
general out of the way. Dillard stood just inside the door, unable to 
tear himself away from the unfolding drama.

"He's alive," Janet smiled triumphantly fighting back new tears as she 
looked up at them.

"How did you know?" Hammond questioned in hopeful disbelief.

"Just a hunch, sir."

"A pretty damn good hunch," Jack retorted with a snort, bouncing slightly 
on his toes with nervous energy and a futile need to do something.

For several long minutes nothing happened. Daniel's chest continued to 
rise and fall as he was bagged and his color looked much better, but he 
made no move to breath on his own. With an expectant sigh, Janet pushed 
the second dose.

"You sure you wanna do that," Jack began, stopping cold at the 'who's the 
doctor' glare shot his way. "I'm just saying," he muttered sotto voce, 
rubbing a hand over his throat in remembrance of Teal'c's abrupt 
awakening.

Another minute passed with no discernible results. "Dammit," Janet swore. 
"I was sure that would work. One of the drugs in his system was a 
curariform. Draw up one more dose and get the vent."

"Curare?" Sam asked in shocked surprise. "Isn't that a poison?"

"No, not a poison; it's a paralytic. Basically, it arrests the action of 
motor nerves by preventing acetylcholine from moving across neural 
junctions..."

"Uh, English, please," Jack interrupted.

"It's a very strong muscle relaxant," Janet simplified, not taking her 
eyes off Daniel's face. "Victims die because it immobilizes the muscles 
around the lungs leaving them unable to draw breathe."

"So why isn't Daniel dead? I mean, he's not, right?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Not dead," Janet assured as she gave the third dose of the antidote, 
"just paralyzed. This should counteract the curare effect, but even if it 
doesn't, I believe it'll wear off by itself. Eventually. But that could 
take days for all I know. In the meantime, we'll just have to help him 
breathe."

Jack drew closer, looking over Janet's shoulder at his friend, relief 
evident in his posture. "So, how long until he's awake?"

"I suspect he's awake now. That's why I really don't want to tube him if 
we don't have to, but we can't bag him forever."

"Oh God," Sam murmured, grasping Teal'c's arm in horror. "You mean he 
knows what's been going on."

"Yeah," Janet said quietly, brushing Daniel's hair away from his face. 
"He knows."

A nurse wheeled the ventilator next to the bed and Janet sighed 
reluctantly. "Alright, let's get him intubated," she ordered, reaching 
for an ET tube off of the cart and moving around to the head of the bed. 
As the nurse pulled the ambu bag away, blue eyes snapped open and stared 
up at her.

"Daniel?"

Gasping for breath, Daniel took a couple deep gulps of air, weakly 
pushing away the oxygen mask a nurse steady tried to slip onto his face. 
"Hiber..." he panted softly.

"Hibernation?" Janet finished for him, grinning ear to ear as she took 
the mask and held it about an inch in front of his nose and mouth. 
"That's right, Daniel. I'm thinking one of the other drugs in your system 
put you into a deep state of hibernation, lowering your metabolism enough 
to keep you alive on the scant amount of oxygen you were taking in. 
Unfortunately, that drug wore off first."

"So it was like when someone is submerged in icy water for hours and then 
they make a full recovery," Sam guessed, pushing her way through the 
nurses to catch hold of Daniel's hand. He squeezed her back feebly, 
managing a lopsided smile.

"You're not dead until you're warm and dead," Jack quoted, leaning over 
Janet to ruffle Daniel's hair. "Arctic survival."

"Definitely... not ... dead then," Daniel shivered, his teeth beginning 
to chatter.

"Get some more blankets," Janet ordered, rubbing his nearest arm with her 
free hand.

"Thanks, Janet," Daniel replied, closing his eyes and enjoying the 
sensation of moving air in and out of his lungs on demand. "Nice save."

"I can't imagine anything worse than waking up in the middle of your own 
autopsy," Janet commiserated.

"He's alive," Dillard stuttered in disbelief, speaking for the first time 
as he leaned against the wall for support.

Teal'c and Hammond turned to spare him a glance. "That he is," Hammond 
beamed.

"Stick around, kid," Jack teased without looking back. "You get used to 
this sort of thing from Daniel."

"No, I mean... Desert Son," Dillard explained awkwardly. "He fulfilled 
the prophecy."

"Indeed," Teal'c replied with a raised eyebrow and a smug look on his 
face.

                         *******************

"Go back?" Jack barked in irritation, thumping his hand down on the 
briefing room table. "Forget it."

"Jack..."

"No, Daniel. Those people killed you for Pete's sake."

"No they didn't. In fact Alva went to great lengths to keep anyone from 
killing me," Daniel argued calmly, looking a whole lot better after a 
non-drug induced night's sleep. Except for a couple of stitches in his 
neck and a few more on his chest, he emerged from the ordeal remarkably 
none-the-worse for wear. "She set the stage to rescue her people."

"If Fraiser hadn't figured out what that crazy old woman did to you, you 
would be dead right now," Jack insisted, tight-lipped and angry as hell.

"General Hammond," Daniel implored, going over Jack's head with his plea 
as he turned to the other man at the table. "All I have to do is make an 
appearance. The conditions of their prophecy have been met. It's all down 
hill from here."

"General?" Jack protested vehemently, taking his glare off Daniel for a 
second to shift it to his boss for even considering such a thing.

"What about all those children, Jack? Are you going to condemn them 
because of the act of one 'crazy old woman'?"

"Low blow," Jack muttered, his defenses crumbling slightly.

"Don't they deserve a second chance on a new world? In spite of what has 
been done, our objectives haven't changed," Daniel pointed out adamantly. 
"And what about Sam's atmospheric monitoring equipment? She never did get 
to set up her... uh, stuff. And what did she say? That it could provide 
invaluable information?"

"You know damn well that's what she said," Jack grumbled, guessing by the 
look on Hammond's face that Daniel had already convinced him.

"Doctor Fraiser doesn't want any of you back under that radiation for 
very long," Hammond cautioned in a very fatherly tone.

"We won't stay long," Daniel promised, looking at Jack sympathetically. 
"Or maybe I could just go back with another unit..."

"Like hell," Jack butted in. "If you're going back, I'm going with you."

"We," Sam put in from the top of the stairs as she, Dillard and Romano 
ventured tentatively into the room. Teal'c, however, didn't seem to have 
any reservations about joining the meeting uninvited, striding into the 
room with his usual dignity. "We all request permission to finish the 
mission, sir."

Hammond narrowed his eyes at them for a minute before coming to a 
decision. "Four hours," he announced, raising a hand to cut off the 
expected protest from Daniel. "That gives you time to make an appearance 
and show them how to activate the gate. From what you've told me about 
their preparations, these folks should do just fine on their own."

"Thank you, sir," Jack and Daniel muttered simultaneously, each feeling 
as if he had won the debate, at least a little.

                         *******************

Along the outskirts of the makeshift village the peasants settled in for 
the long run. As a group, they had hoped to be among the first to make it 
to the new world, but they had come prepared to wait. The city people 
however were already beginning to pack up to head back to their homes. 
Some were disillusioned, but others were still hopeful that someday 
Desert Son would return. None had actually turned back yet.

The remains of the cage had been dismantled and stacked off to the side 
of the stargate and out of the way, but none who had seen its destruction 
could forget where the line of safety was. Now the area in front of the 
gate was kept completely clear except for the large white mechanism left 
by the other-worlders. A single soldier stood guard, watchful for any 
sign that the stone ring might awaken. Midmorning on the second day, it 
did.

                         *******************

Jack and Teal'c exited first, eyeing the crowd warily. "That smell never 
gets any better does it?" Jack complained. After a moment of taking in 
the silent, frightened, hopeful faces, he keyed his mic. "Okay, come on 
through."

A moment later, Daniel stepped onto the dais with Sam, followed by 
Dillard and Romano. The crowd reacted with gasps of awe coupled equally 
with shrieks of terror and cries of joy. Some danced delightedly between 
the tents and wagons; others fell to their knees repentantly. Chaos 
reigned for close to ten minutes until the chorus of 'Desert Son' took 
hold and everyone stopped shouting to chant instead.

"Daniel," Jack pleaded loudly. "Can we get on with this?"

Whole-heartedly agreeing, Daniel stepped forward and raised a hand. 
"Shh."

Every eye on Daniel, the people quieted almost instantly and knelt on the 
ground. Daniel rolled his eyes and sighed. "Return to your wagons," he 
advised. "Pack your things, but do not move toward the stargate. Wait 
until someone directs you to proceed. Please, let's do this in an orderly 
fashion. Go on."

Obediently, but chattering animatedly among themselves, the crowd began 
to dissolve back into the camps, save for the soldiers who gathered at 
the base of the steps. "What would you have us do, my lord?" one of them 
asked.

"Don't call me that," Daniel balked. "Please, just... Daniel."

"Yes, Daniel."

"Okay," Daniel sighed, sharing a look with Jack. "Go with these people. 
They're going to teach you how to use the DHD, uh, that thing, and then 
they're going to help you devise a workable evacuation plan."

"This way," Sam said, directing the group toward the dial home device. 
Dillard and Romano followed.

"I will take you to the queen," the remaining soldier volunteered.

"Why don't you just bring her majesty to us instead," Jack suggested 
coolly.

"Actually," Daniel replied. "I think I'd better talk to Alva."

Teal'c scowled protectively and Jack grimaced behind his shades.

"Alone."

"Oh, hell no," Jack objected immediately. "You might as well consider me 
your shadow for this entire trip, Daniel. Cause that's the way it's gonna 
be."

"I will accompany you as well," Teal'c agreed, leaving no room for 
discussion.

"Fine," Daniel groused, secretly touched by his overly protective 
teammates. "Take us to see the Oracle."

"Why can't she come here?"

"Come on, Jack, she's a little old lady."

"A damn spry little old lady, and a deadly one at that," Jack rebutted.

Daniel inclined his head towards the camp and the soldier bowed quickly 
before leading them toward Alva's tent.

"If we're not back in one hour," Jack called back to Sam, "send a rescue 
party."

"Yes, sir," Sam answered dutifully, looking up from her teaching. "Be 
careful."

"An hour? That barely gives us time to get there and back."

"Imagine that."

"Jack, that's not long enough," Daniel complained, following their guide.

"Bitch, bitch, bitch," Jack teased, falling in beside his friend. "You 
have the survival instincts of a lemming."

"I do okay," Daniel countered with a frown.

"Thank God," Jack agreed dropping his mocking attitude and patting Daniel 
affectionately on the back.

Daniel eyed him suspiciously for a second before accepting the time limit 
and picking up his pace. As they moved out of the area where the soldiers 
had set up quarters and into the evacuees' camp, the queen arrived on 
horseback with several more troops.

"Desert Son," the monarch called out breathlessly, blinking at Daniel 
incredulously.

"Hi, Claire," Daniel greeted with a wave, not bothering to slow down.

"How ya doin?" Jack asked acerbically, sending the queen a sloppy salute 
as he passed her. "Get comfortable. We'll be back later."

Teal'c tilted his head ever so slightly to acknowledge the queen, but 
kept moving as well.

Claire looked around in confusion, stung by the snub but unwilling to 
risk the anger of the newly arisen and obviously quite powerful man or 
his associates. Fighting back tears, she urged her horse towards the 
stone ring where the rest of Desert Son's entourage gathered. Her 
soldiers hesitated momentarily, but then followed at a distance.

                         *******************

As they approached the dwelling, a number of servants ran excitedly out 
to meet them. Jack and Teal'c both reacted defensively, but the group of 
mostly teenage girls ignored them and barraged an unsuspecting Daniel 
with hugs and kisses. Several of them tried to clean his boots at once, 
leaving him flailing around for Jack's arm to maintain his balance.

When one of the youngest in the group gazed up at Jack adoringly and 
moved as if to put her arms around his neck, Jack softened his 'colonel' 
persona minutely and shifted his weapon to return a hug. Another girl 
tugged at his leg and he hesitantly raised his foot for her to wipe his 
boot. As he was pulled into the group hug, kiss, and boot cleaning 
frenzy, he looked over to find Teal'c in similar straits.

"Okay, okay," Daniel laughed self-consciously as he extricated himself. 
"That's good, that's great. Really, thank you."

"We knew you would come," one of the young women gushed.

"Uh, thank you," Daniel repeated uncertainly as he turned toward the 
tent. Jack slapped a hand to his chest and brushed past him to take 
point. Shooting a longsuffering glance to Teal'c, Daniel saw no sympathy 
there and resigned himself to being sandwiched between the two for the 
duration of their stay.

Reaching the doorway, Jack hesitated slightly as he pushed the flap open 
with the end of his weapon. As his eyes adjusted to the dimmer light, he 
ventured into the tent to find the old woman stretched out on a cot next 
to the fire. "I told you air freshener would work," he muttered as Daniel 
entered behind him with Teal'c bringing up the rear.

"Alva," Daniel exclaimed, moving directly towards her, much to Jack's 
irritation. "What's wrong?"

"Just resting, my dear," the Oracle replied, reaching out to him. "I was 
terribly worried about you."

Daniel took her hand and settled on the edge of the small bed. "I'm 
fine," he assured.

"He almost died," Jack put in cantankerously.

"And yet here he is," Alva laughed with relief.

"You should have told us your plan," Daniel scolded gently. "Do you know 
what they do when someone is killed on my planet? They split them open 
and have a look inside."

"How barbaric!" Alva exclaimed.

"Yes, well, I didn't think so until now."

"But now all is well. You are alive, your friend is once again healthy, 
and my people may now proceed to the new world without interference."

"Yes," Daniel agreed. "It didn't have to happen this way, but it's over 
now."

"But it did," Alva insisted. "Steps had to be taken to ensure the 
outcome."

Daniel cleared his throat, looking uncomfortable. "Yeah, I wondered about 
that. Just, ah, how many of these steps have you taken through the years? 
I mean, it's lucky for you that you have such a young, naïve queen, easy 
to handle...well, for you anyway. What happened to Claire's parents?"

"They both died, the king long ago, my daughter only last year."

"Of?" Jack queried.

"Very mysteriously," Alva replied evenly. "In fact they both died in 
their sleep, leaving the throne to an inexperienced and often childish 
Claire."

Daniel moistened his lip and shot a nervous glance towards Jack. 
"Really."

"Perhaps you should be certain you want the answer before you ask the 
question," Alva cautioned.

"How did you know?" Daniel continued insistently. "I mean, what made you 
so sure Desert Son would come in your lifetime?"

"When my daughter betrayed me and the king kept me locked in a gilded 
cage, away from my people, I realized that I would be the last Oracle. 
Even within the palace, there were those who would do my bidding. I do 
not regret anything I have done."

"So when you get right down to it, you orchestrated the whole thing. The 
prophecy was a fake," Jack replied. "I knew it."

"What has come has come. Regardless of distasteful deeds, all is well."

"What?"

"Uh, I think she's saying that the end justifies the means," Daniel 
clarified.

"Well put," Alva praised. "How very wise you are."

"I didn't say I agreed," Daniel objected, still looking a little freaked 
by the woman's seeming lack of conscience.

"Fear not, as my penance, I shall never see the new world."

"Is that part of the prophecy?" Daniel asked seriously.

"No," Alva sighed. "It is my own design."

"Daniel, time's up," Jack interrupted, checking his watch.

"We have to go," Daniel explained, rising to his feet.

"Remember what I told you," Alva warned, not releasing him.

"Uh... what did you tell me? When?" Daniel questioned in bewilderment.

"On the night of your death."

"Oh. I really don't remember too much about that," Daniel confessed. 
"What did you tell me?"

"Your memory will serve you when the time is right," Alva assured, 
kissing his hand before letting it go. "Thank you, Daniel. Be at peace, 
Desert Son."

Daniel worried at his lower lip with his teeth as he tried to figure out 
what she was referring to, but came up empty.

"Daniel," Jack prodded, breaking into his thoughts.

"I'll check on you later," Daniel promised, gracing the old woman with a 
tiny smile.

Alva nodded and closed her eyes wearily as they left.

                         *******************

They made it back to the gate with only minutes to spare on Jack's self-
imposed deadline. An awning had been erected on the spot where the cage 
had stood, back far enough not to be disturbed by an incoming wormhole. 
Currently, the queen sat in a decorative chair under it, impatiently 
waiting their return.

"Claire," Daniel greeted to appease her briefly before turning his 
attention to Sam. "How's it going?" he asked.

"Very well," Sam responded with a grin. "In fact, Dillard and Romano have 
marked out a series of grids so the groups can alternate from left, right 
and center and not come from every direction at once. It seems to be the 
fair way to do it."

"So the farmers *who were here first* won't necessarily be pushed all the 
way to the back," Daniel mused loud enough for the queen to hear him. 
"That's great."

"What about dialing skills?" Jack asked, amused as her royal highness 
flinched at Daniel's subtle barb.

"We've already sent some of the soldiers through to help out on the other 
side," Dillard responded. "I mean, they did," he corrected.

"Dialed out themselves?" Jack approved. "Our work here is done."

"Yes sir," Sam agreed. "They picked it right up, and now they can come 
back and forth for more supplies as they need to."

"What about your doohickeys?" Jack queried, thumbing towards the MALP.

Sam shook her head. "I don't think we're going to miss anything in the 
few weeks it will take to complete the evacuation," she began. "And since 
the gate will be in constant use for that time, I wouldn't be able to 
maintain the equipment anyway."

"Few weeks?" Daniel interrupted to ask.

"Yeah," Sam replied. "It turns out; this is just a portion of the 
population. There are still whole cities and towns farther away that the 
inhabitants haven't even arrived yet. They started sending messages to 
them as soon as they saw you, actually."

"Right. So we'll just have to come back later."

"Well, Desert Son," Jack replied pleasantly, "why don't you bid the queen 
farewell and we'll get the hell out of here."

Daniel nodded and crossed the few meters to where the monarch watched 
unhappily. "Your majesty," he said formally with a bow.

"So now you will abandon us," Claire replied dourly.

"As it was written," Daniel responded with a twitch of his lip, turning 
the prophecy back on her for a change.

The queen glowered at him for a moment before an evil glimmer sparkled in 
her eye. "I saw your scar," she goaded.

Daniel fingered the bandage on his neck in confusion before narrowing his 
eyes and dropping his hand to touch his jacket over his appendix scar. 
"Oh," he replied in surprise, clearing his throat and feigning 
nonchalance as he crossed his arms over his chest.

Claire smiled at him broadly, enjoying his discomfort. "I have something 
for you," she decreed, changing the subject as she handed him an aged, 
animal skin satchel.

"This is the prophecy?" Daniel questioned, running his hand gently over 
the well-worn leather cover.

"Part of it," Claire explained with a look of regret on her face, "the 
part that separated families, friends... a nation. Now we must repair 
that divide."

"I can't accept this," Daniel declined softly, trying to hand it back. 
"Even out of context, this is a valuable historical document. It belongs 
to your people."

"This, too, was written," Claire assured in complete seriousness. "For my 
people, I thank you."

Clutching the gift, Daniel bowed again. "Good luck, Claire."

"I will be the leader my people need me to be," the queen promised, 
inclining her head as well.

"Daniel," Jack warned just before a rushing vortex roared out of the 
stargate. "Let's go."

Daniel nodded once more to the queen and trotted up the steps with his 
treasures, stopping at the top to wait as Sam maneuvered the MALP through 
the gate.

"Desert Son!" a man called loudly as he ran through the camp.

"What now?" Jack bemoaned before recognizing the man as the one who had 
brought the antidote to Teal'c.

"Desert Son," the man repeated breathlessly as he reached the steps. 
"This is from the Oracle." He placed an ancient box and a brand new 
scroll side by side on the step at Daniel's feet.

"The rest of the prophecy," Daniel guessed, bending to retrieve it.

The man nodded and smiled, still panting heavily as he stepped back. 
Daniel took in the small gathering of people around the base of the dais 
and waved to them before turning to disappear into the blue with his 
friends.

                         *******************

"Open 'em up," Jack requested as they descended the ramp. "Let's have a 
look."

"Jack, these are probably hundreds of years old," Daniel gasped in horror 
at the suggestion. "They have to be opened very carefully, under exacting 
conditions of light and temperature to preserve what's left of them. 
We'll have to put them in a vacuum to photograph them and then..."

"Forget I asked," Jack backpedaled, throwing up his hands. "I'm just glad 
this whole ordeal is over."

"Yeah, me too," Daniel agreed, glancing back as the wormhole sputtered 
out, certain that he had forgotten something.

"Welcome back, people," Hammond greeted from the control room. "If 
there's nothing urgent, we'll debrief tomorrow morning at oh nine 
hundred."

"I'm sure it can wait," Daniel responded, looking at Jack who nodded his 
approval.

"In the meantime, Doctor Fraiser is expecting you," the general informed 
them glibly.

"Of course she is," Jack grimaced. "Let's get this over with."

                         *******************

As he waited for his report to print, Daniel sipped his coffee and read 
over his life story, painstakingly laid out on the new scroll. Whether it 
was the actual document written while he'd been drugged or merely a copy, 
he had no way to know. He shuddered however at the accuracy, glad he 
didn't remember uttering the frank and brutally candid words out loud in 
front of an audience. Interrupted by the printer's dreaded 'out of paper' 
noise, Daniel set his coffee aside to tend to the task of filling the 
tray.

"Hey," Jack greeted as he wandered into the office and approached the 
desk. "You were here late last night. Did you even go home?"

"No," Daniel replied, tearing open a new ream of paper. "I wanted to get 
an early start."

"This it?" Jack asked, moving Daniel's full coffee cup to the edge of the 
desk before picking up the scroll.

"No, that's just a bad episode of 'This is Your Life, Daniel Jackson'," 
Daniel sighed. "I keep expecting my fifth grade teacher to come breezing 
in. Please don't read it."

"Daniel Jackson," Jack read, "conceived of the desert, only son born to 
Claire and Melborne Jackson..."

"Jack," Daniel objected grumpily, shoving the paper tray back into the 
printer a little roughly. "Please!"

"Sorry," Jack muttered, not sounding sorry at all as he dropped the 
parchment back to the desk. "I'll wait 'til the movie comes out."

"Yeah, you do that," Daniel rejoined, hitting the reset button.

Jack huffed, but managed not to grin, ever proud of his ability to get 
Daniel's goat. "You ready?"

Daniel glanced at the printer as it picked up where it left off with ten 
more pages to go. "Just about."

"Nine o'clock," Jack reminded, tapping on his watch face.

"Yes, Jack, I know. I'll be there in plenty of time," Daniel promised.

Jack nodded dubiously and backed out of the room, mumbling "Yeah, sure," 
as he went.

With a smirk of his own, Daniel gathered the pages as they printed and 
tapped them gently on top of the counter to even them up. Turning to grab 
the stapler, he bumped his coffee cup which wasn't where he had left it.

"Dammit," he swore, setting the report safely out of the way before 
grabbing up the scroll, which was greedily soaking up the liquid.

"Doctor Jackson?"

"Nyan? Hi," Daniel greeted, holding up the scroll to shake off the excess 
moisture that hadn't already penetrated the layers of the rolled up 
parchment. "Quick, grab me some paper towels."

As his assistant cleaned up the desk, Daniel unrolled the scroll on the 
counter next to the printer and placed heavy objects around the edges to 
flatten it out before carefully blotting the text with paper towels.

"That's too bad," Nyan commiserated as he glanced at the blurred ink.

"It's okay," Daniel sighed giving up trying to save the keepsake and 
turning to face the younger man. "I know this story too well anyway. What 
have you got?"

"Pictures of the documents you brought back from P49-738," Nyan supplied, 
laying out a series of photographs on the now dry desk.

"Already? That was fast," Daniel replied, glancing at the clock.

"Well, only the single page document. Turns out, it was a scroll that had 
been folded and there was a sketch in there as well," Nyan explained, 
pulling out one of the photos and handing it over. "Nice likeness," he 
teased.

"Thanks," Daniel grunted accepting the picture to glance at it briefly 
before setting it aside.

"We also took a shot of the other document. We're having some trouble 
separating the pages and the, um, coversheet for lack of a better word is 
severely worn away, but you can clearly see the text on the next page."

"Okay, good. What about the carbon dating?" Daniel asked, retrieving his 
preliminary report and stapling it.

"Not complete yet, but Doctor Gibson is estimating 350 to 400 years old. 
But the paper is not at all what he expected, much too refined, and the 
document is held together by a metal brad."

"A staple?" Daniel asked, looking at the mechanism still in his hand.

"Yeah, something like that."

"I wouldn't have thought them that advanced," he puzzled, "unless they 
have somehow regressed over the centuries. Well, keep at it. I've got a 
meeting."

"See you later," Nyan said, eager to get back to work.

Daniel put down the stapler, looking around to see what he needed, 
knowing time was slipping away. He grabbed a new manila folder, shoved 
his report inside and gathered up the pictures, stopping to stare in 
shock at the one that landed on top of the pile. Dropping everything 
else, he moved over to the counter to compare the spotty, linear stains.

"Daniel... desert... son... born to Claire..." he read off of the photo, 
swallowing when he realized that the words in the first line of text on 
the new scroll that had not been obliterated by the unfortunate spill now 
read exactly the same. "Oh my God."

He spun back around and grabbed the other pictures, rapidly thumbing 
through them until he found the one he wanted and placed it under his 
magnifying glass. Overwhelmed as he confirmed his suspicion, he collapsed 
into his chair to let the significance sink in.

                         *******************

Jack sighed as the meeting continued without a certain wayward 
archeologist. Hammond didn't look especially pleased, but he hadn't yet 
sent anyone looking for him either. Otherwise, the briefing went quickly 
and everyone had reported except for Daniel. Sam stalled by talking about 
the tests she would eventually run when they went back.

Twenty after nine, Daniel drifted into the room as if totally unaware 
that he was late. He clutched a folder in his hand as he settled into a 
chair appearing somewhat befuddled.

"Doctor Jackson?" Hammond queried with a note of reproach in his tone.

"I'm the prophet," Daniel announced without preamble.

"Huh?" Jack muttered, leaning forward in his chair.

"Daniel?" Sam asked with concern from across the table. "Are you okay?"

Fraiser quietly left her seat and pressed her fingers to the inside of 
his wrist.

"I'm the prophet," Daniel repeated, looking up at the doctor with a lost 
expression.

"No, you're not," Jack corrected. "You're not even the guy the prophet, 
you know, prophesized."

"Yes, I am," Daniel argued, turning his wide-eyed stare to his friend. 
"But I'm also the prophet. I mean I was. Uh, I will be. I wondered how 
Olivia could draw an accurate picture of Desert Son when she would never 
meet him. She couldn't. She didn't, she sketched the prophet."

Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "What has led you to this conclusion, Daniel 
Jackson?" he asked gently.

Daniel extricated his wrist from the worried doctor and dug through the 
photos to toss one into the middle of the table. "Because yesterday we 
brought back a four hundred year old copy of the report I just finished 
writing thirty minutes ago."

"Are you sure?" Jack questioned, grabbing the picture and studying it 
intently.

Slipping off his glasses, Daniel let them clatter to the tabletop as he 
rubbed his eyes with shaky hands. "Somehow, some... day, I've got to go 
back in time and deliver the new versions of these documents to those 
people."

"No you don't," Jack argued. "It already happened. It's over."

"Exactly!" Daniel agreed.

"Huh?" Jack repeated, looking around the table for someone to clarify the 
situation.

"I've got to go back to 738. Alva has to tell me what to do."

"Daniel, we won't be able to get through until the evacuation starts to 
slack off. That could be weeks from now," Sam explained gently.

"Well what do I do in the meantime?" Daniel asked in puzzlement. "What if 
I'm supposed to be doing something now?"

Sam shrugged and shook her head. "I'll be monitoring the situation," she 
placated. "As soon as we get through, I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Sam," Daniel sighed.

Hammond shook his head and rose to his feet. "Good job, people," he 
praised, efficiently ending the briefly. "By the way, Lieutenant Dillard 
has been reassigned to the gateroom while he waits for an opening on an 
SG team."

"That's great," Sam smiled, glancing over as Daniel glumly replaced his 
glasses.

"Dismissed," the general ordered, stopping on his way to his office. 
"Doctor Jackson? Can I see you for a minute?"

Daniel nodded contritely as he gathered his papers and got to his feet. 
His apprehensive C.O. followed him towards the general's office.

"Colonel?" Hammond asked in an uncompromising tone, allowing Daniel to 
pass, but stopping Jack at the door. "I think we can handle this by 
ourselves."

"Of course," Jack replied, not backing down an inch. "I just thought as 
Daniel's team leader I should be there..."

"That dog won't hunt, Jack. Dismissed," Hammond reiterated leaving no 
room for further discussion.

"Yes sir," Jack responded, shooting one last glance at his tardy teammate 
before the door was shut in his face. He watched through the starmap as 
Daniel took a seat in front of the general's desk. Hammond moved to the 
window and shooed him away.

"Uh oh," Sam empathized as everyone but SG-1 cleared the briefing room.

"Come on," Jack muttered, leading the way. "We'll wait in the hall."

                         *******************

"I'm sorry I was late," Daniel ventured as the general rounded the desk 
and took his seat. To his surprise, Hammond laughed lightly.

"That's all right, son. I suppose you were a little preoccupied. 
Something like this is bound to be stressful."

"You have no idea," Daniel sighed, studying his hands.

"Don't I?" Hammond queried gently.

Daniel looked up, his forehead creased in contemplation.

"Somewhere around thirty years ago I meet an extraordinary group of 
people who changed my life," Hammond continued, watching Daniel for a 
reaction, knowing the nimble mind wouldn't disappoint him.

"Nineteen sixty-nine," Daniel breathed in awe.

"That's right," the general beamed for an instant before continuing more 
seriously. "For a while, I let it consume me. It was very difficult to 
let go of the thought that I was somehow responsible for something that 
hadn't even happened yet."

"How did you handle it?"

"I made a concentrated effort to put it aside. I have to tell you, Doctor 
Jackson, it was tough. The more I tried not to think about it, the harder 
it was not to. But it got easier as time passed. In fact, there were 
periods of years that I didn't think about it at all. And then I got 
assigned to the Stargate Project. After that, it became a lot clearer to 
know what to do."

"Like having Sam work on the time travel aspect of the gate."

"That's right, I also allowed a certain strong-willed civilian 
archeologist in need of a haircut to join the premier front line SG team. 
Turns out I made the right decision."

"Wait a minute, what about when I was on Abydos? Surely you thought I was 
dead. That changed things."

"I knew you couldn't be dead because I had already met you," the general 
explained. "Poor Jack never did figure out how I knew his report wasn't 
entirely accurate. It was a little bit harder the time we actually held a 
funeral for you, but even then I held out hope you would return. And you 
did."

"That's an awful big leap of faith," Daniel insisted.

"Faith is the hard part, son. But I know you're up to the task."

"Well, like Jack said, it's already happened," Daniel mused, relaxing 
slightly. "I don't suppose there's any way for me to screw it up, because 
if I do, things would have already gone wrong. Right?"

"Can I give you some advice?" Hammond asked quietly, amused by Daniel's 
reasoning, having had the same thoughts many times himself.

"Of course," Daniel agreed readily.

"You may not get a warning. Tuck the things you need away in your 
backpack every time you go through the gate."

"What if I lose them before I need them?"

"What if you need them and you don't have them?"

Daniel's eyes went wide and he gripped the arms of the chair.

"Well, maybe you should make copies as a safety net," Hammond suggested 
reasonably.

"Copies," Daniel repeated. "Of course."

                         *******************

"That's crazy," Jack persisted.

"Why? With the wide array and frequency of solar flares on P49-738, I 
think it's entirely possible for Daniel to go back in time," Sam argued.

"We have experienced time travel ourselves, O'Neill," Teal'c pointed out.

"Yeah, but we had Hammond's note and Carter's research to guide us. If 
Daniel goes off on a little time trip by himself, how are we gonna get 
him back?"

"The flares would have been present even hundreds of years ago, just not 
as frequent or as severe," Sam replied before sagging against the wall in 
defeat. "But it would take an amazing amount of luck to dial out at the 
right time. I doubt it could be done."

"That's all I'm trying to say," Jack responded, laying the matter to 
rest. As the general's door opened, he straightened and acted like he 
hadn't been waiting for Daniel.

"Thank you, sir," Daniel said solemnly shaking the general's hand.

"Any time you wanna talk about it, son," Hammond soothed, "my door is 
always open."

"I appreciate that."

"Colonel?" Hammond asked, turning to Jack and feigning surprise. "Is 
there something I can help you with?"

"Ah, no sir, we were just passing through," Jack lied, putting a hand on 
Sam's back as he pushed her on ahead of him down the hall, motioning 
furtively for Teal'c to follow.

"In a pig's eye," Hammond snorted, stepping back into his office.

"How does he always know?" Jack grumbled, herding his team towards the 
elevator.

Daniel grinned to himself and fell in beside Teal'c. After his chat with 
the general, he knew the next three weeks wouldn't be so bad after all.

                         *******************

Finally back on P49-738, Daniel sulked as he surveyed the barren field 
where thousands of people had once waited their turn to pass through the 
gate. Without conscious thought, he caressed the soft blue scarf in his 
hand.

"Carter? Are you almost done?" Jack asked wanting nothing more than to 
get back to the SGC and forget all about this particular planet.

"Yes, sir. Just let make a few little adjustments," Sam replied, busily 
calibrating her equipment.

"I can't believe she's dead," Daniel muttered, staring at the lone tent 
being dismantled in the distance, the funeral pyre behind it still 
smoldering.

"Yeah, you mentioned that," Jack commented with a sigh. "A couple of 
times. Come on, Daniel, she was old. There was a lot of blood on her 
hands. Why are you taking this so hard?"

Daniel frowned until he turned to see Jack's concerned expression. "Well, 
as selfish as it sounds, I was hoping she could tell me what I'm supposed 
to do," he confessed. "How will I know when it's time?"

Jack eyed the stargate suspiciously. "How do we know we won't end up in 
Camelot as soon as we step through this time? Carter says the flares are 
already getting more frequent."

"That's unlikely," Daniel assured offhandedly. "I mean the prophecy 
didn't mention you or Sam at all."

"Ya know, I really don't have a problem with that," Jack replied. 
"Carter?"

"Yes sir, I'm ready," Sam called over her shoulder, nevertheless still 
tinkering with one of her devices.

"Teal'c, dial us home," Jack ordered, patting Daniel on the shoulder to 
urge him back towards the gate.

As soon as the wormhole was established, Sam straightened up and joined 
them while Teal'c punched in their code. Everyone hesitated at the bottom 
of the dais.

"So hypothetically, what happens if we do end up back here in the past?" 
Jack asked.

"Well, hypothetically, we wouldn't be able to dial Earth," Sam supplied 
reluctantly.

"Why not?"

"Because four hundred years ago the gate on Earth was still buried in 
Giza," Daniel explained.

"I knew that," Jack mumbled under his breath.

"But we wouldn't be able to stay here either," Daniel continued. "If we 
did, we would risk doing something to disturb the prophecy and all this 
would have been for nothing. We'd have to find another planet somewhere 
to live. Maybe PJ1-04. We'd be long dead before they came to settle it."

"So basically, if we ever do go back, it's a one way trip," Jack summed 
up.

"Probably," Daniel agreed. "Doesn't mean we wouldn't try."

"But if you get the chance, I suppose you're gonna do it anyway," Jack 
grumbled unhappily.

"I don't think I have a choice," Daniel shrugged. "Besides, it might be 
thirty years down the road anyway. By then we may have the technology to 
go back and forth in time at will. For now I suggest we take General 
Hammond's advice and relax. When it happens, it happens."

Jack looked around one more time. "You know, it still stinks around 
here," he complained, leading the way up the steps. "Let's go home."

Stepping out into the familiar gateroom, each member of SG-1 gave a 
little sigh of relief.

                         *******************

Six months later

"So what's it say?"

"Huh?" Daniel looked up from the crumbling wall he'd spent all afternoon 
excavating. He hadn't heard Jack's approach and wondered offhandedly how 
long he'd been sitting there watching him.

"The wall. What's it say?"

"Oh," Daniel uttered, sitting up straight and rubbing his cramped neck 
muscles. "It's a parable actually. This part literally reads 'woe to he 
who seduces the hand of fate,'" he paused briefly, the words triggering a 
foggy memory. "The hand of fate... sometimes fate needs a hand," he 
muttered, working through his thoughts out loud.

"What?" Jack asked, his mind obviously already somewhere else.

"Nothing," Daniel breathed softly. His gaze was drawn inexplicably to the 
stargate.

"How much more time do you need?"

"I'm done," Daniel responded, uncharacteristically giving up on the 
fable.

"No way," Jack argued. "This is a first."

"Yeah. I'll, uh, gather up this stuff if you want to help Sam and Teal'c 
break camp. I'll meet you at the gate."

"Oh I know what you're up to," Jack accused, rising from the stone block 
he had settled on.

"You do?" Daniel asked nervously, licking his lip.

"Yeah, I do. You think you can squeeze a few more minutes out of me if 
you keep me busy."

Daniel released a guilty sigh as he got up as well. "Yep, you got me," he 
fibbed.

"Take your time," Jack offered generously. "I'm in a good mood."

"Thank you."

"Half an hour," Jack called over his shoulder as he trudged down the hill 
towards their camp.

"Jack," Daniel shouted, racing to the trailhead before his friend got out 
of sight.

"What's wrong?" Jack questioned, looking up apprehensively.

"Nothing," Daniel hedged, swallowing the lump in his throat. "I just... I 
just wanted to say... thanks."

Jack snorted and waved as he continued on his way. "Thirty minutes and I 
don't mean Daniel-minutes either," he threatened.

Waiting until Jack rounded the bend at the bottom of the hill, Daniel 
frantically gathered his things, taking care to check that his documents 
were in place, and sprinted to the gate. His hands shook slightly as he 
dialed 738. He looked back once more before bolting through the wormhole.

As soon as he hit the other side, Daniel ran to the DHD. He dialed the 
planet his research over the past few months had shown to be in a 
trajectory directly on the other side of 738's sun. Sworn to secrecy, Sam 
had reluctantly confirmed that it was probably, hypothetically the best 
choice for an attempt at a slingshot through time, if they ever figured 
out exactly how to predict a solar flare.

If he was wrong, he would end up going home to an angry Jack with a lot 
of explaining to do. If he was right, he might not ever be able to go 
home. When the vortex receded, Daniel paused on the dais and took a deep 
breath. Closing his eyes he stepped into the event horizon.

                         *******************

"What was that?" Jack asked, knowing full well the sound he heard was a 
stargate activation. He dropped the tent pole in his hand and grabbed his 
gun.

"Maybe it's General Hammond," Sam offered doubtfully, snatching up her 
weapon and trotting after Teal'c who was already halfway up the trail.

"It could be hostiles," Jack argued as they ran.

Clearing the rise, they spread out in a defensive posture, sweeping the 
little plateau with their eyes as the wormhole sputtered out.

"Daniel," Jack whispered loudly. "Shit. Where is he?"

"There appears to be no one here," Teal'c stated the obvious as he rose 
and closed in on the DHD.

"Daniel!" Sam called louder, moving over to the abandoned site he had 
been excavating for the past two days. "All of his stuff is gone," she 
confirmed.

Jack joined Teal'c and they shared a grim expression of realization 
before Jack started to dial in to the dreaded 738. "I'll kill him," he 
muttered under his breath. "If we ever find him, Daniel Jackson is a dead 
man."

                         *******************

The first thing he noticed was the clean fresh air with a hint of mowed 
hay. Daniel sneezed twice before he opened his eyes. A fertile, green 
field in front of him bore no resemblance to the barren wasteland he had 
come to know as 738. Movement in the high grass off to the side of the 
dais startled him and he found himself staring down into the frightened 
eyes of a young women crouched there.

"Olivia," Daniel breathed softly, dropping his pack in awe that he had 
actually made it.

Even more afraid when the apparition spoke her name, Olivia backed away. 
In her haste to turn she stumbled and fell, revealing the embodiment of 
the term 'heavy with child'.

"Wait, wait, wait," Daniel pleaded rapid fire. "I'm not going to hurt 
you. Please, don't hurt yourself. Just stay there, I'll help you up."

Shocked beyond reasoning, the pregnant woman did as she was told and lay 
still as Daniel slowly approached, his empty hands spread wide. "Easy," 
Daniel urged as he let her grasp his wrist and pull herself upright. 
"Come on." He gingerly took her elbow and steered her to the steps where 
he lowered her into a sitting position, wincing at her skinned knee.

"Sorry about that. Uh, my name is..." Daniel stopped himself, not sure 
how much to reveal. "Actually, my name is not important," he amended with 
a sigh. "But you are Olivia, and I have a message for you."

"I don't understand," Olivia began to sob, holding her belly protectively 
as the tears of fright streamed down her face. "How do you know me?"

"I'll explain everything. Please don't cry," Daniel implored gently, 
getting a little choked up himself over causing her distress. "Everything 
is going to be fine, I promise."

Daniel located his first aid kit and took out some cotton and a tiny 
bottle of peroxide. "Here, let me clean that." He dabbed the slightly 
oozing wound, then blew on it gently when Olivia flinched at the sting. 
"This will help it heal," Daniel explained, taking out a tube of triple 
antibiotic ointment and squeezing out a dot on top of the scrape. Next he 
found a large Band-Aid and applied it as well, leaning back to inspect 
his work.

"You are a god?" Olivia asked with trepidation as she cautiously examined 
her patched up knee.

"No," Daniel denied quickly. "Not a god. I'm a... a prophet," he added 
with a grimace at the pretentious sounding announcement. "I have a story 
to tell you and I need you to pay attention."

Nodding her agreement, Olivia relaxed slightly to hear him out.

"First of all, I want to tell you that your baby will be born healthy and 
live a long and prosperous life. I can also tell you that it's a girl. In 
fact, your lineage for the next couple hundred years will always have at 
least one daughter in every generation."

Digging through his pack again, Daniel pulled out his report along with 
the flattened and folded scroll. "Your planet is in trouble because your 
sun is beginning to change. Eventually, it will harm your crops and make 
your people sick. But don't worry, because before things get too bad, a 
man will come through the stargate, this stone ring, and lead the people 
to safety."

"Everything you need to know is in here," he added, handing over the 
documents. "Learn it well, share it with your people, but guard it 
carefully."

"Why me?" Olivia asked fretfully.

Daniel couldn't help but laugh. "Because the fickle hand of fate picked 
you, I suppose. The same way it picked me. You'll do fine. You'll be the 
first in a long line of Oracles, the keepers of the prophecy."

Fingering the strange paper thoughtfully, Olivia sighed, considering the 
idea.

"I'm sorry to do this to you, but it can't be avoided. Now, why don't you 
head back home and tell your family what happened while you were out?"

"I'll do my best," Olivia promised meekly, struggling to her feet.

"I know you will."

"Will I see you again?" she asked.

"No."

With a nod of her head, she started down the steps and entered the waist 
high grass, her long hair fluttering in the slight breeze.

"Olivia," Daniel called after her, realizing that he had left out one 
very important piece of the puzzle. "One more thing."

He closed the space between them and took her hands. "It's very important 
that you share what I'm about to tell you with your daughter when she 
comes of age. Make sure she knows to pass it on to her daughter as well, 
sharing it with no one else. This must happen every generation until the 
message can be delivered to... to Daniel. Without it, he won't know what 
to do. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Sometimes fate needs a hand. Say it."

"Sometimes fate needs a hand," Olivia repeated uncertainly.

"That's right," Daniel praised. "Remember, it's imperative. I can't 
stress that enough. Say it one more time."

"Sometimes fate needs a hand," Olivia said again with a lot more 
confidence, suddenly reminding Daniel of an old woman in another time.

"You're gonna do great," he smiled with an overwhelming sense of relief 
that he'd done what he came to do.

Olivia returned the smile and made her way through the field, parting the 
grass with a subtle waddle. Daniel sat on the top step and watched until 
he couldn't see her anymore and then made his way to the overgrown DHD. 
Fighting back sneezes, he cleared away enough of the weeds to dial out.

"Okay fate, I've done your bidding," he muttered sardonically as he 
pressed the symbols. "You owe me one."

                         *******************

"It's over, Jack," Hammond declared sadly. "We can't keep risking people 
to find him."

"I know," Jack swore softly, handing over his resignation.

Carter had become sick from all the time she spent on 738 under the 
worsening conditions and had been pulled from active duty. Worse, they 
had lost Teal'c in an experiment and could only hope that he was alive 
and well somewhere in the planet's history. Unfortunately, all their 
research leaned towards the likelihood that he'd been flung far into the 
future, a future where no one, not even a Jaffa, could survive.

As a unit, SG-1 was officially dead.

                         *******************

Out of supplies and soul weary, Daniel decided to try again. Spending 
most of his time on PJ1-04 to avoid any chance that the natives of 738 
might return to the gate to try and prove or disprove Olivia's story, he 
kept his cautious return trips to night time hours. Half starved, his 
uniform hung on him and with his shaggy hair and beard, he was sure he 
looked a fright. He doubted if Olivia would recognize him anyway.

For kicks, he decided to dial Earth this time, knowing full well the 
cover stone would prevent a wormhole from forming. But he was homesick, 
and it felt good to punch in the familiar address, pretending for a 
moment he was really going home. To his amazement, the seventh chevron 
locked and a wormhole blossomed before him.

Either the gate had somehow activated under the coverstone, which Daniel 
knew couldn't happen, or the wormhole had established somewhere, or 
rather, some time else. Jumping at the opportunity, he gathered his 
almost empty pack and rushed up the steps into the event horizon.

                         *******************

Daniel stumbled as he stepped through the gate, feeling as if he'd been 
hit by a sledgehammer. The god-awful odor added to his nausea and he sank 
down to the steps, hoping he wouldn't throw up on himself.

"Come on, Daniel," Jack replied, patting him on the back and placing a 
canteen in his hands. "The smell's not near as bad as it used to be."

"Are you unwell, Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c asked attentively.

Looking back at the gate for a minute, Daniel cleared his throat and took 
a long drink of the offered water. "No, I'm okay," he managed. "I just 
had the strangest feeling."

"Carter? Set up your toys. Teal'c can help you. I'll go with Daniel to 
visit the wicked witch."

"She's dead," Daniel muttered, staggering to his feet and heading off for 
the tent clearly visible in the distance, leaving Jack's canteen on the 
step.

Jack grabbed his water and trotted to catch up with the determined 
archeologist. "How do you know she's dead?" he inquired.

"Because that's a funeral pyre," Daniel replied, pointing out the flames 
roaring into the sky on the other side of the structure.

"You sure?"

Daniel let out a little laugh that sounded suspiciously like a sob and 
purposefully stayed a couple steps ahead. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Oh. So why are we rushing out there to see her if she's dead? Obviously, 
she's not going anywhere."

"Because I'd really like to get this over with and go home."

"Oh. So why are we rushing out there at all?"

Stopping abruptly, Daniel turned back to face his friend, pulling off his 
glasses. Though his eyes were full of tears, he was grinning broadly. 
"Alva left me a gift. I want to retrieve it."

"What kind of gift?" Jack questioned distrustfully.

"It's a beautiful blue scarf. Really soft."

"Right," Jack muttered. "And you know this *how*?"

Daniel's smile faltered for a second, but he quickly recovered. "I don't 
think I want to tell you."

"This isn't part of that prophecy crap, is it?"

Wiping his eyes, Daniel laughed again. "Not exactly."

"Daniel," Jack said in a threatening tone.

"I'll tell you all about it," Daniel replied, continuing his trek, but at 
a much calmer pace. "About six months from now. After the hockey finals 
are over."

The End