The Soul Senses
by Carrie

Jack sat back, sighed deeply and patted his stomach with contentment, ignoring the semi-annoyed glare Daniel was skewering at him. He couldn’t help it. This was turning out to be a piece of cake mission, and since those came along so rarely he was going to enjoy it. They’d only been here two hours and already managed to successfully negotiate for the mineral of which the people of P8C 218 had an abundance. Daniel was uncomfortable with the arrangement, though the archaeologist kept his disgruntlement non-verbal. So far. Jack had to admit trading five hundred pair of standard issue combat boots and socks for access to the planet’s supply of trinium did seem a bit unbalanced. He felt a minor glimmer of guilt, but was very able to look beyond it to focus on the positive.

Which at the moment was the table of food and drink spread before him. An almost inexhaustible supply of trinium and an excellent meal—oh yes, P8C 218 was definitely going on his Top Ten Planets list. Watching lazily as Daniel finalized their portion of the negotiations with the village elder, Tomahe, Jack’s mind wandered to Carter and Teal’c. Too bad the duo had missed out on the feast, but the errant UAV had run out of juice about three kilometers from the Stargate, in the opposite direction as the village of course. They were collecting the standard soil and vegetation samples and retrieving the device while he and Daniel met the natives. Who knew they’d seal the deal before the team could reunite?

Tomahe interrupted his post-meal reverie, scooting closer to him and extending a crooked hand. Jack eyed the old man. Naked to the waist, he had flowing silver hair reaching mid back. Intricate tattoos covered most of his exposed flesh, including his sun-wrinkled face. According to Daniel, the markings looked almost Celtic in nature, though the people were more likely descendents of one of the Plains Native Americans. The archaeologist hadn’t been more specific, leading him to believe the conclusion was mostly conjecture. Conjecture or not, it always creeped him out to contemplate the Goa’uld being on Earth in recent history. He shivered involuntarily at the thought.

Perhaps the snakeheads had no part in these peoples’ lives. There certainly was no indication of anything Goa’uldy on the planet. The Asgard had been known to protect planets; perhaps this was one of them. All they needed to do was explore a little and Daniel would no doubt figure it out. With official business out of the way, they had nearly two whole days to roam the surprisingly, but blessedly, treeless countryside. Beautiful, rolling fields of grass stretched as far as his eye could see, at least from his vantage point at the outdoor banquet set up in the center of the village.

“Uh, Jack?” Daniel asked, voice sounding urgent. “How about you shake Tomahe’s hand before you insult him by continuing to ignore him?”

Whoa. Food must have made him sleepy. Jack sat up straighter and placed his hand in Tomahe’s, giving the native his best thousand watt smile. “Tomahe, thank you. You’ve been a very gracious host. On behalf of the people of Earth, I look forward to strengthening our relationship with the Way-”

“‘zata,” Daniel hastily mumbled into his ear as he trailed off.

“‘zata. Years from now we’ll both be able to look upon this moment as a great one for both our peoples,” Jack concluded. And Daniel thought he’d bungle this up. Hell, he could schmooze with the best of them.

Tomahe beamed happily and called to several young women hovering around them. Instantly, he and Daniel were surrounded by dark eyed beauties, all showering them with tokens of appreciation from the villagers. Jack couldn’t help but notice one in particular was fawning over the younger man, who was squirming and blushing from the attention. He let Daniel suffer for a few minutes before an alarming thought invaded his brain. Daniel had accidentally gotten married in a similar situation. No way did Jack want that to happen again. Not that he regretted the archaeologist’s accidental marriage, he mentally amended with a wince. Never. He’d seen Daniel truly happy so few times, most of them revolving around Sha’re. He felt a pang of remorse, so common when he wandered onto that subject. Time to lighten up a little.

“So I’m taking it this means it’s all good?” He poked Daniel in the arm, then waved his finger at the adoring women.

“Uh, that would be yes,” Daniel confirmed. “If we can prove we won’t harm the land, the SGC won’t have to worry about running low on trinium. Though the world will be in danger if the Wayzata ever develop a fashion sense and start requesting designer shoes.”

Jack rolled his eyes and gently backed away from the well-meaning women. Daniel followed his lead and soon they finished their fussing, leaving with giggles. He had to chuckle himself when he looked back over at Daniel to find a string of beads had caught on the younger man’s ear. A smile was playing at Daniel’s lips and he had to admit it was a good look for the archaeologist. He looked healthy. Happy. His own smile widened.

They all needed a normal mission after the hellish ride they’d just gotten off. Teal’c was all back to normal, not functioning like he was a sociopath anymore. As far as missions went, Jack couldn’t have asked for a better one to re-acclimate him into the team. Two days of non-stressful playing in the fields should do just the trick.

“Why don’t you go contact the general and let him know we’re already done?” he suggested, smirking as Daniel’s face started to register a protest and twist into a scowl. “Ah, don’t worry. Tell him we’re going to spend the remainder of the mission exploring and building the relationship with the…what was it again?”

“Wayzata,” Daniel supplied, darting his eyes at Tomahe.

“Right, the Wayzata. We’ll be back at our regularly scheduled time,” Jack finished.

“What are you going to do?” Daniel asked, sounding leery.

“Relax, Daniel. I won’t do anything embarrassing, I promise. I just think it’s time for a second helping. Tomahe will keep me entertained,” he retorted with a chuckle. “We’ll wait right here for you. Send Carter and Teal’c if you happen to see them.”

“All right,” Daniel hesitantly agreed. “I’ll be back in a while.”

He gave Daniel a quick, dismissive wave and immediately turned his attention to the platters of food enticing him. He wasn’t going to argue with having two more days of cooking like this. Eat now and worry about the consequences later was his motto. Of course, sitting cross-legged for extended periods of time could prove a problem. Wincing as his hamstrings protested, Jack rose and stretched his arms over his head. Maybe he should wait until Teal’c and Carter showed up to eat more. That would be the polite thing to do and he was always polite.

Sitting back down, he observed the cluster of people surrounding him. The Wayzata had a lovely existence—no Goa’uld threats and from what Daniel told him, no rival tribes with which to contend. Happily hunting and gathering for sustenance seemed the ideal way to live to him. He bet they fished, too. With a grin, Jack thought should the opportunity ever present itself again, P8C 218 would be a perfect spot to retire. He clasped his hands behind his neck, closing his eyes.

Before he knew it, his head was floating somewhere up in the stratosphere. Sensing Tomahe might consider it an insult to fall asleep at the dinner table, Jack jerked awake. He kicked himself for sending Daniel to contact Hammond. The women were still lingering in the corners, giggling and eyeing him up and down. He hadn’t considered the danger of getting accidentally engaged to one of them himself. Sure the Wayzata spoke English, but that didn’t mean he was one hundred percent certain he knew what was going on. Daniel could at least recognize when something looked ritualistic. Which actually hadn’t helped him any on Argos, now that he thought about it.

Jack sat up and warily checked for any overt signs he’d suddenly changed his marital status. He could just see it now: ‘Sorry, General. We had to break the trade agreement because I refused to stick around and play husband to an underage native girl. Better luck next destination, huh?’ That would so not be a good thing. Hammond would have his hide. Or rather, the powers that be would have Hammond’s hide, who would turn around and share the wealth. Gotta love the trickle down effect.

He couldn’t tell if the beads and feathers hanging from his neck signified anything in particular and none of the girls were going out of their way to cater to his needs. He figured he was safe from that threat anyway. Relaxing once again, he sat back and caught Tomahe’s glance. The native was assessing him discreetly, though Jack had no clue what he was looking for. If he were Tomahe, he’d probably be making last minute observations to ensure the people he was dealing with were trustworthy.

“So, Tomahe, how’s the fishing around here?” Jack initiated.

The older man relaxed and smiled with enthusiasm. “You are a fisherman, O’Neill? I, too, enjoy the bounties of our waters. More so, I appreciate the solitude of the lake. Away from the children. The wife.”

The elder’s voice deliberately increased in volume just as a very beautiful woman passed by them, long black hair streaming down her slim back. Her face scrunched into a scowl and let out a huff of disgust when Tomahe reached up his hand and affectionately swatted her on the rear. Jack’s eyebrows flew up in astonishment. She had to be half the man’s age. Apparently the Wayzata culture bore some similarities to Earth’s…well, at least Hollywood’s. Jack was suitably impressed.

He was even more impressed when after only a few seconds, her face transformed into a wide smile and she leaned down to wrap her arms around Tomahe’s shoulders, hands grabbing his chest. She demurely batted her eyelashes at Jack as she responded, “No more than I appreciate the blessing of silence when you are gone, husband. You like the sound of your voice too much.”

Jack grabbed for his glass, raising it to his lips to hide his grin. The couple tussled for a few minutes, playing like children, and warmth flowed through him. He stopped trying to disguise his amusement, chuckling openly at their antics. They were quite obviously in love, despite their age difference. Jack narrowed his eyes, looking more closely at Tomahe. He might have miscalculated the native’s age. While Tomahe was silver-haired, he showed excellent physical fitness and his face bore fewer wrinkles than Jack thought. In fact, the Wayzata man couldn’t be more than five years his senior.

“Oho! Does she not have fire in her spirit?” Tomahe chortled, easily pulling his wife onto his lap.

“So it seems,” was all he could think to say.

“O’Neill, this is my wife Immokalee. My sweet, for the chance to dig in our soil, O’Neill and his people will provide us the means to aid our journeys and make survival of our winters more bearable. But it is not the material items in which we truly gain—it is, I think, the kinship of a good people.”

“It’s very nice to meet you,” Jack said with a gentle smile.

Immokalee’s face became bashful as she bowed her head, nuzzled closer into Tomahe and smiled back at him. If he hadn’t already been convinced of the sincerity and overall goodness of the Wayzata, Jack would have been convinced by both the elder’s honest words and the interplay between him and his wife. Their relationship was as open and loving as any he’d ever seen, and it seemed representative of the community as a whole.

“And I, you. If my husband considers you a friend, then it is so. Welcome,” Immokalee simply stated, hugging Tomahe again before sneaking away.

“You will be here for two days?” Tomahe absently asked as he admiringly watched his wife depart. He turned back to Jack, eyes sparkling. “We will catch a great many fish in that time.”

“If everything goes as I hope, yes. I can ha-”

A loud commotion from the edge of the village interrupted him, and he and Tomahe rose to their feet simultaneously in an attempt to get a line on the cause of the disturbance. The same stomach that had only moments ago been contented suddenly revolted against him as he realized what it was.

Surrounded by a frantic crowd of natives, Carter and Teal’c were being prodded toward him, weaponless, hands raised.

She wasn’t quite sure what to expect. Deep down, Sam knew Teal’c was himself again, but she couldn’t get past the images imprinted in her memory by his brainwashed, Apophis-loving alter ego they’d all been exposed to. She felt horrible about it, guilt ridden and ashamed. The vague inclination that the colonel and Daniel were in the same situation did little to ease her conscience. Vague? Maybe not. Her CO had practically run away from them after relaying his orders.

They walked in silence. Gathered soil and vegetation samples in silence. Found the UAV in silence. And that shouldn’t have bothered her—silence was the norm for Teal’c—but suddenly Sam found it unnerving. Odd how only a month or so ago she had taken comfort in Teal’c's still, strong companionship and now she was distinctly uncomfortable. In the past couple of hours, Sam had also caught him mutely watching her, adding to her sense of unease. When discovered, his gaze would instantly avert but not before she saw a flash of hurt cross his features.

As they drew nearer to the Stargate, she looked at him and caught him at it again. His unusually obvious pain caused her to wince. Sam had to get a grip. She had to swallow the fear and even anger she still felt toward Teal’c; to move beyond the awkwardness and recapture the friendship she knew she had with him. Only she had no idea how to start.

“Daniel Jackson approaches the Stargate.”

Sam’s whole body lurched at the abruptness of Teal’c's voice filling the air. Her opportunity to seek redemption would have to wait. There were only two reasons she could think of for Daniel to go to the ‘gate alone: the native people were willing to share their trinium, and the colonel had asked him to report to the SGC or the natives were unwilling, and the colonel had ordered him to report to the SGC. The latter didn’t make sense, as her CO would likely accompany him, seeking herself and Teal’c before they left the planet. So Daniel must be reporting good news.

Turning to Teal’c, she caught bleakness in his eyes before he pivoted his face away from her. He must have misinterpreted her reaction to his words. She fervently assured, “You startled me, that’s all, Teal’c. We haven’t exactly been talking much. I was just wondering why Daniel’s the only one at the ‘gate.”

“Indeed,” Teal’c intoned, relaxing only slightly. She couldn’t tell what he was indeeding.

“I hope it’s good news.” She tried a small smile. Confidence that she’d be able to overcome her trepidation grew with each word she uttered. If only Teal’c would feel do same, maybe she could too. His hesitancy only seemed to worsen hers. She picked up the pace, struggling against the weight of the UAV, calling, “Hey, Daniel.”

Even from fifty feet away, Sam saw him jerk just as he was inputting one of the chevrons. She also heard him mutter in frustration and guessed he’d just misdialed. Oops. Daniel spun around quickly, annoyance transforming into a quick smile when he saw her and Teal’c.

“Hey, guys. Did you get everything you need already?” he cheerfully shouted.

“Yep,” Sam answered, patting her daypack for emphasis. “We’re all set. What about you and the colonel?”

“Mission accomplished,” he reported. “It was surprisingly easy. In fact, I’m feeling a bit guilty about it, but don’t have a good reason to object. Jack’s having me let General Hammond know the details of the trade, and then I think we may actually have a couple of days to explore the culture of this world.”

She and Teal’c were at his side by the time he finished, and Sam could see the excitement in her friend’s eyes. She couldn’t help but smile at his delight and while she had no doubts the inhabitants of P8C 218 had a fascinating society, she was just glad they had lucked out with such an easy mission. The countryside she had seen was quite beautiful; she looked forward to relaxing in it. Apparently Colonel O’Neill felt the same, or they’d already be packing their bags.

“Well, he’ll be happy to know Teal’c and I discovered a nice little lake a short walk away. He hasn’t been fishing in months, has he?”

“No, he hasn’t. That’s great, Sam. It’ll keep him out of my hair for most of the mission. Yours too. Sorry, Teal’c,” Daniel half-smiled and shifted back to the DHD, punching the chevrons again. He paused, turning to them, “Why don’t you head to the village? I can send the UAV and samples back and make sure the general is okay with our staying off world.”

Sam noticed the archaeologist focusing primarily on her when he spoke and sneaked a glance at Teal’c. The Jaffa’s eyes were determinedly pinned away from both of them. A shot of remorse bordering on pity snapped through her. She knew Daniel didn’t mean to exclude or avoid Teal’c, just as she didn’t, but the result was the same. Looking pointedly at Daniel, she made sure she caught his attention before transferring her eyes to their quiet friend and then back.

“Sounds like a deal,” she agreed, catching Daniel’s blush. “Anything we need to know?”

“Not that I can think of. The Wayzata are a peaceful people, descendents of one of the tribes of Plains Native Americans, though it’s difficult to pinpoint which one. There’s been no indication of Goa’uld activity and they are very friendly. If Jack hasn’t eaten it all, there should be food there when you arrive.”

Sam was pleased to see him make an effort to have his body language address both her and Teal’c.

“What is it the Wayzata wished in exchange for mining rights to the trinium?” Teal’c asked.

Again, Sam found herself jumping at his entrance into the conversation. Damn. It’s like she’d suddenly become one of Pavlov’s dogs and Teal’c's voice the bell. Daniel, if he was startled, showed no reaction.

“Shoes and socks,” he mumbled, shuffling his feet on the ground.

A bark of disbelieving laughter escaped her, which she tried to suppress by clamping her lips together. Shoes and socks? Daniel couldn’t be serious.

“No, really. They migrate to a more temperate region during the winter, but from what I’ve been told it’s still very cool. As long as we don’t do any irreparable damage to the land, we could have found many years’ worth of trinium. Like with Tonane’s people, we will have to demonstrate we can do so,” Daniel continued.

“Can we actually do that, though?”

“That’s where I have a bit of a problem. The best I could do was to tell Tomahe…the elder, who I’m sure you’ll really like…about the mining process. General Hammond will probably have to send SG9 to complete the negotiations. What we’ve got is tentative, but promising.”

She nodded at him, freezing when her stomach apparently remembered his earlier mention of food and growled. She unconsciously rubbed it, chuckling as she noted Teal’c cocking an eyebrow.

“Indeed.”

“We’ll see you in a few minutes, Daniel,” she playfully said, keeping her hand over her stomach. She could definitely use something to eat.

“See you.”

Sam raised her eyes to the sky as they continued on toward the village. It was an enchanting bluegreen, the clouds bright white and fluffy. Reverting to her childhood, Sam started imagining the shapes into bunnies…trees…and she swore even a naquadah reactor. Wouldn’t the colonel roll his eyes at that? Chuckling lowly, Sam shook her head. They hadn’t really had much of a chance to relax and just enjoy each other’s company on a mission in months. Regardless of the colonel’s disbelief and no doubt light-hearted condemnation of things she found entertaining, they all needed time off.

Especially Teal’c. God, why had it taken her this long to actually see he was suffering as much as they from the memories of his words and actions while he thought Apophis was his god? Half a second later, she answered her own question—because she’d been so wrapped up in her own misery. Sam vowed to herself that she would make every effort to salve those wounds and those he felt every time she, Daniel or the colonel unconsciously shrank from him.

“It’s so peaceful here,” she commented, bringing her attention back to the earth. Teal’c remained quiet, though she thought she saw mild surprise tear across his face. “I hope the general lets us stay. We could really get things going smoothly for SG9.”

“Daniel Jackson appeared to believe the inhabitants of this world are very receptive to our presence. I, too, look forward to learning more about their culture.”

Sam thought for a moment, trying to dig into what Teal’c was really saying. She hoped she wasn’t stretching it when she interpreted that to mean he embraced the idea of a truly normal, mundane even, mission. She’d never actually heard him express interest in anything cultural—like the colonel, he typically amusingly tolerated their teammate’s excited lectures. In any case, she thought it a good thing to keep the conversation rolling. He’d spoken more in the last few minutes than she’d heard for at least a week.

“If Daniel said the Wayzata have food prepared, I’ll bet we find the colonel napping. He’d better have let them know we’re coming. I’m starving.”

“I could use nourishment as well, especially that which does not come pre-packaged. If O’Neill has not refrained from consuming everything, I will be displeased.”

Smiling her agreement, Sam was about to make more slightly disrespectful remarks about her CO when she heard someone calling out in alarm. She instantly prepared to give assistance if it was needed, hand reaching for her P90. Teal’c grasped his staff weapon in both hands, but didn’t raise it. Her scouting eyes locked on five or six men running directly toward them, all with long dark hair and tan clothing. None appeared injured, their faces wearing almost angry expressions. The closer the group got, the more uncomfortable Sam became. Something was not right, and she was beginning to suspect it had everything to do with her and Teal’c.

They remained passive, though Sam swung her head back toward the ‘gate. There was no way Daniel would be able to see what was happening; he was a tiny speck, barely visible. She very clearly saw the blue shimmer of the event horizon. Reaching her hand up to her radio, she could only think to warn him back to the SGC. Shifting next to and in front of her provided enough of a distraction for rough hands to grab her arms and twist them behind her back. The grip was firm but not painful, and she thought she could break free easily. Beside her, Teal’c was in a similar situation. Their perpetrators were being very benign, silent. Sam didn’t struggle as they ripped her weapon away and removed her radio.

“You serve the trickster, Apophis! Do not deny it, we know the mark,” one of them finally hissed, pointing at Teal’c's forehead.

Great. Bitten by that snake again. Sam opened her lips to protest, but it died in her throat when the speaker grabbed her P90 from one of his colleagues, directing it straight at her head.

The accusation was harsh and extremely painful to his ears. Every day since throwing off his yoke of slavery, Teal’c had had to live with the reminder of his servitude on a daily basis. The golden tattoo was precisely why his quarters contained only one mirror, and he rarely used it. In the weeks following the Rite of Mal Sharran, he had not once been able to look at the reflection it held. This was not the time for that cowardice and denial.

“It is true. At one time, my life was devoted to Apophis. This is no longer the case.”

“Teal’c, I really don’t think-” Major Carter objected to his statements.

“You say this so easily, I might believe your sincerity. Yet you could be deceiving us in your trickster ways!” the young man angrily interrupted, nostrils flaring.

Teal’c watched the P90 waver in the Wayzata’s hands, still aimed at his companion. His own staff weapon was held menacingly upon him. There was no choice but to follow the direction of the affronted natives. His mind instantly transported him back to Cartago and, as then, he was prepared to face his past with honor. Perhaps this time his friends would allow justice to eke itself out, especially since the crimes he had committed in his lifetime now included acts against them.

“I assure you I am not,” he said calmly, gently holding up one of his hands.

“As I said, we cannot take your word for that, nor that of your companions,” the man spat, glaring at Major Carter. “You will come with us.”

Despite being very upset, the natives were not showing much aggressiveness. The hasty removal of his and Major Carter’s weapons and communication devices had been swift and efficient, not brutal. Teal’c sought the major’s attention with a slight twist her direction. She bore an apprehensive but not completely alarmed expression. He nodded once to the apparent leader in acceptance, lifting both hands.

As they were being led away, Teal’c took an opportunity to check on the status of Daniel Jackson. A very rapid turn of his neck permitted him to determine the Stargate was still activated and Daniel Jackson was speaking to the MALP camera. Teal’c could not read his lips at this distance, but the archaeologist’s stance showed no alarm. Sharp probing steered him to look forward once again as they entered the small cluster of homes.

Their appearance garnered more intense reactions from the villagers, some crying out in fear and fleeing. For many years, he had not intentionally invoked such a reaction and its occurrence on previous missions was rare. To see it now saddened him. Perhaps the people were correct to be afraid; he had proven there was evil within him. Should he undergo a similar trial as that on Cartago, he would again accept his punishment. He could only hope his friends would not be deemed guilty by association.

“Tomahe! See who these new friends truly are!” the leader called.

Teal’c watched a tattooed, silver-haired man spring to his feet and move toward them, followed closely by O’Neill. The women who surrounded the low table of food retreated quickly, while the gathered men drew closer.

“Ciqala, what is the meaning of this outburst? Surely you do not-” the man called Tomahe trailed off, curious face hardening as he took in Teal’c's tattoo.

“I do. How can we trust them? We were going to join Daniel Jackson as he spoke with their leader through the Great Blue Circle when we saw their approach,” Ciqala retorted, emphatically waving Major Carter’s P90 around.

The colonel started at the mention of Daniel Jackson, one hand reaching for his weapon, the other his radio. As with him and Major Carter, the attempt was subverted. Helpless to assist, Teal’c inwardly cringed as two burly Wayzata secured O’Neill’s arms.

“Tomahe, this isn’t what it looks like. Please let me explain.”

“You come here as friends, but fail to tell me of…this,” Tomahe swiped a hand at Teal’c as if he were the most offensive creature in the universe. “O’Neill, you know I must hesitate to believe you. Ciqala, what of Daniel?”

“He has already activated the Circle. I sent four to stop him from relaying any messages to their world,” the native smugly informed. “They will succeed.”

Mind reeling, Teal’c tried not to contemplate the various meanings Ciqala’s statement could take. Because they had shown tolerance to himself and Major Carter, he hoped the same would hold true for their fourth team member. Staring impassively at the native, he was disturbed to see open hostility. His fear for Daniel Jackson increased.

“Message? He’s not going to tell them anything other than how our discussions went… Please. You have to listen,” O’Neill attempted again. The entire group focused on the colonel. Teal’c read in his face the same fear he felt. “This is all just a really big misunderstanding.”

“Teal’c told you the truth,” Major Carter cut in, rotating her gaze between him and O’Neill. “Once, he did serve Apophis. He…doesn’t anymore.”

She winced at her stilted words, and Teal’c experienced a corresponding dagger of hurt. He did not blame his friends for their slow acceptance of him. He remembered every word, every threat, every attempt he had made to harm them both physically and mentally. Even though each was recommended to seek counseling because of his actions, none of them had, choosing instead to forge on individually, just as he. He was beginning to doubt the near dissolution of their friendship would be so easily repaired.

“He hasn’t for years. Apophis is dead,” O’Neill wearily bolstered Major Carter’s statement.

Tomahe studied O’Neill cautiously for long seconds before turning his attention to Major Carter for similar appraisal. Teal’c saw the alien’s face flicker with hesitation but it did not last. Like so many cultures they had encountered, it seemed the Wayzata were resolute in their beliefs. It was a common trait among the human race whether they resided on Earth or elsewhere, and he knew such commitment to be both an attribute and a detriment. Recent experiences had demonstrated just that.

“You believe this to be true, yet I sense deeper doubt. I cannot be certain of your true intentions,” Tomahe mused at last. He snapped his head up, signaling his men. “Place them in the empty shelter. When Daniel Jackson is apprehended, I will decide the proper course of action.”

O’Neill opened his mouth and raised a hand to once again protest, but was silenced by fierce, threatening glares from Ciqala and the other men. His arm fell to his side as his weapon was taken and they were prodded toward a large, triangular tent structure. Teal’c frowned, unsure if he should be surprised at O’Neill’s complacency or resigned to it. Until Daniel Jackson’s safety was ensured, none of them were in a position to object. He could read worry and guilt on both O’Neill and Major Carter’s faces, which he assumed was for their yet absent friend.

A heavy shove pushed Teal’c through the small opening of the tent, his head roughly brushing against the soft arch. Snorts of derisive laughter floated behind him as Major Carter stumbled into his back, her breath gusting on his right arm. O’Neill cursed irritably but he did not listen to the words. He could not allow his friends to come to harm because of him. If Daniel Jackson did not arrive ‘in one piece’, he would do whatever it took to remove the threat from SG1.

“Well, isn’t this cozy? Ya know, I always thought teepees were strictly Hollywood. Shows how much I know.”

The comments were ignored as each turned instinctively toward the entrance, though they all kept an angle toward the others. A flap of cloth slapped over the doorway, dimming the enclosure considerably. Teal’c looked around their prison, noting the sturdy poles braced together, crossing at the top. There was a small hole at that location, providing the only source of light. His eyes adjusted quickly, and he looked back to his companions, jaw tightening. O’Neill’s sarcasm did little to disguise the tension.

“Don’t worry, Teal’c. I’m sure we can work this out. You’ll be fine. Everyone will be fine. As soon as Daniel gets here, he’ll smooth things over with Tomahe,” O’Neill continued, his tone now softer. “He’s a very reasonable man. Even if Daniel can’t sweet talk us back onto his good side, the worst that will happen is we’ll lose some trinium. Back to status quo.”

“How certain of that are you, sir? Does Tomahe alone hold that much power? Do you know what the relationship is between him and Ciqala?” Major Carter’s questions flowed together, betraying her agitation. “What if Dan-”

“He’ll be fine, Carter,” O’Neill broke in, halting her litany of questions. “Daniel said these folks are peaceful and we have no reason to think otherwise. Unless they show some sign of aggression, I don’t want to show any. We’ve talked our way out of worse situations.”

Major Carter quieted but did not look any less troubled. Teal’c watched her stride to the edge of the tent and violently kick one of the wooden poles. It was an action more suited to O’Neill, and his eyebrow rose in surprise. O’Neill loudly sighed.

“You’re right, sir. I don’t know why I’m so upset. Maybe because I feel like we’ve already been judged after one glance. They saw us and assumed…” She trailed off and turned to him, her face flushing. “God, I’m sorry, Teal’c. You know I didn’t mean…”

“It is all right, Major Carter. I understand the difficulty in which I have placed you,” Teal’c assured her, attempting to disguise the hurt he still felt at her unconscious hesitation. He did understand.

“No, Teal’c, it’s not all right. I don’t know why I keep-”

Loud voices from outside drew their attention. Teal’c could not decipher the actual words but that they were harsh was easy to discern. An increasingly uncomfortable feeling grew, encompassing not only him but O’Neill and Major Carter as well. Instinctively, they all drew away from the doorway with muscles tensed. Bright light filled the small space as the cloth was removed from the entryway and something was tossed onto the ground at their feet.

It was Daniel Jackson.

Watching Sam and Teal’c depart, Daniel couldn’t help but think they all needed this mission. He certainly did. No way would he ever tell Jack, but he had no intense interest in American studies—he was an Egyptologist for a reason, after all. No, he was more excited to have a couple of days of peace, quiet and normality. A burble of laughter filled his throat as he turned back to the DHD to start dialing for the SGC for the third time. What exactly constituted normality for SG1? The abnormal was the norm.

The past couple of months had proven that. Just when he’d thought they’d faced everything, something new had sprung up and attacked with tenacity. Daniel’s mind constantly returned to the bizarre, fearsome persona of a fully Apophis-devoted Teal’c, no matter how hard he fought the images down. Nothing could have prepared them for it. The mere idea someone could be that stanch in their beliefs, enough to forfeit personal freedom, to die, to kill for one being or one idea was difficult for him to comprehend. Yet Teal’c had changed into that. Had been that fanatical at one point during his life.

It frightened him still.

He tried to get his mind unstuck from that particular track, watching the Stargate spin and the wormhole splash out. General Hammond would be pleased at the simplicity of this deal, and Daniel was confident he’d allow SG1 to remain off world for the allotted duration of the mission. He wasn’t sure if he had ever seen the general so shaken as when deprogramming Teal’c. He knew he had a tendency to place General Hammond on the father figure pedestal, especially after overhearing the other man’s feelings toward him. Daniel had always known the general cared a great deal for all ‘his people’, and more and more often those feeling were coming out into the open. He applauded that on a personal level; worried about it on a professional one. The commander of the SGC showing the world how much it hurt him to see others in pain was dangerous. He was probably just being paranoid, remembering the forced retirement debacle not so long ago.

The MALP camera swung around. He hated being seen but unable to see himself to whom he was speaking; it always made him feel slightly helpless and impotent. Glancing quickly down at the UAV, he finally made contact with the camera and prepared to talk.

“Doctor Jackson, this is General Hammond. Is there a problem?”

Jumping at the unexpected greeting, Daniel thought about how foolish probably looked through the lens. Another lovely aspect to reporting in via video link. The general’s words were hasty in delivery but he could easily read a touch of apprehension in the tone. He looked at his watch, and remembered he was reporting back sooner than scheduled. With assurance, he said, “No, sir. Not at all. Actually, I think we may be done. The Wayzata—the indigenous people—are very open to trade.”

“That’s good news,” the general replied with barely concealed relief.

“Yes it is. And you’ll like this, sir. All they want are shoes and socks. I think in the long run we’ll be able to offer them more but they had little to no interest in our technology. It’s a start for now. Jack asked I request for us to stay the rest of the mission to work on building diplomatic relations and study the culture in more detail.”

Daniel paused, attention pulled by rustling in the grass from several directions. He darted his eyes nervously around, suddenly feeling a little like a bug under a microscope. His eyes revealed nothing out of the ordinary, and he felt silly. Likely he was just sublimating the feelings he always got with the video link to the here and now. Imagination working overtime.

“Doctor Jackson…Doctor Jackson?” General Hammond’s voice drew him back to reality. “Are you all right?”

“Yes, sir. Sorry,” he swept aside the lingering uneasiness. “I thought I heard something. Just the wind. Anyway, I think it would be a good idea to stick around for a couple of days. Teal’c and Sam found the UAV, which I’m going to send back to you.”

“Very well. In fact, why don’t you stay an extra forty-eight hours? I’ll send additional supplies in case you need them,” Hammond agreed.

“Thank you, sir.” Daniel was surprised at the extension but knew they all could use more than two days together. If they went back home, the avoidance game would begin all over again, and he for one had had enough of that. He needed to work through his shortcomings and get back to a comfort level with Teal’c. “They shouldn’t be necessary, though. From what we’ve seen so far, the Wayzata aren’t opposed to eating, drinking, and being merry. They don’t appear to have any enemies, here or of a Goa’uldish nature. We’ve been welcomed with open arms.”

“If you’re certain?”

“Yes.”

“You have a go then, son. Try and relax a little. Tell the same to Colonel O’Neill, Major Carter and Teal’c. Hammond out.”

Though the words were somewhat abrupt, Daniel heard the general’s honest desire to see them heal as a team. He also heard the older man’s need for similar healing. When they got back to the SGC, Daniel really hoped they would be the SG1 they should be—four distinct parts, but bound together. That should help General Hammond more than anything.

Dragging the UAV toward the still open wormhole, Daniel grunted. He should have enlisted Sam or Teal’c to help him with this particular task, and thanked his lucky stars the Stargate wasn’t set on a raised platform. Finally pushing the miniature plane through the event horizon, he rested his hands on his knees for a moment. Two weeks off from his workout routine, and the effects were oh-soevident. Shaking his head, he straightened up.

There it was again. The ‘gate shut down with an audible snap and his senses went on full alert. While the people of P8C 218 may be friendly, Daniel had no idea if the same could be said for the animal life. The village was only a short walk away. Surely he could reach it without getting himself mauled. Walking more briskly than usual, he fought the increasing agitation his mind was feeling. There was nothing to…

He twisted around with a lurch. Whatever it was, it was NOT the wind. Silence surrounded him again and he was torn—should he go like a bat out of hell, or just resume a normal pace and hope whatever was stalking him would lose interest? His hand edged toward his sidearm. Better safe than sorry.

More movement sounded behind him. All around. Shit. Running it was. He was going to feel like such an idiot if this turned out to be prairie dogs or bunny rabbits. He got about ten strides before he felt something snag his daypack and tug. Instinct took hold as he halted and pivoted around with both arms swinging. He didn’t even see what he was hitting but he did hear a pained groan, and felt his knuckles slam into something warm and soft. The hold on his pack released, mild satisfaction bubbling through him. Daniel finally looked at his attacker, still unsure what to expect.

What he saw surprised him so effectively he didn’t even have time to react. He was grabbed from behind as he gaped at a Wayzata man standing before him, eyes black with anger and nostrils flaring. He noted slight discoloration to the man’s jaw line and was instantly repentant. These were peaceful people—why were they hunting him?

“Uh, I’m sorry about that. I think there’s been some kind of mistake. I didn’t realize…is there something I can do for you?” he fumbled for words, hoping to settle the misunderstanding before this escalated to further violence.

“There has been no mistake,” the native growled, drawing back an arm, unleashing a fist into Daniel’s own jaw.

Head snapping back, he tried to understand what was happening, why he was being detained. He thought he understood the whole hitting thing, and though the punch hurt, it certainly wasn’t the worst he’d ever received. Still, Daniel sagged into the arms holding him, which reacted by wrenching their grip and hauling him back to his feet. Violating hands removed his daypack, sidearm and radio.

“That wasn’t necessary,” he automatically chided, knowing right away he’d made an error in judgment. The Wayzata man glared at him, but it was too late for complacency now. “I thought I was being attacked by animal or some -”

“Quiet. We are to bring you to the village,” the man sharply interrupted, eyes sparking angrily. “You will speak no further, or I will silence you.”

“But if you’ll -”

Another resounding slap had him seeing spots. Daniel decided the Wayzata meant what he said. He’d be damned, though, if he’d let them off that easily. Passive resistance should do the trick. They could cart him off to the village, but he didn’t have to help them. Remembering how Sam had taught him to relax his muscles completely to give the illusion of unconsciousness, he limply folded, almost smiling at the muffled curses as the men tried to compensate. He was mentally prepared to fight back if they should start treating him harshly, but they simply pulled him along. Commotion and excited voices let him know when they’d entered the small community.

“Why have you harmed him?” he heard Tomahe exclaim.

“He struggled against us. I assure you, we did not do him permanent damage. He appears to wound easily,” the guy who’d smacked him smugly said.

“Put him with the others.”

“Of course.”

He was carried only a few steps farther when the entourage stopped. The hands tightened around his arms, he was jostled, and then he was flying through the air, landing in a heap on the hard ground. Daniel stayed motionless, waiting for the mutters of disgust to fade away before rolling over onto his back to take in his surroundings.

“Daniel!” a worried voice called from above. Sam’s face floated above his, and he shot her a brief smile while he straightened his askew glasses.

“Hey, Sam.”

“That’s it? You get tossed in here like a sack of potatoes and all you say is ‘Hey, Sam’?” she criticized.

Peering up at her, Daniel was amazed at her lack of restraint. It took a lot to get Sam so ruffled. He grabbed her hands, which were patting him down for injuries, and squeezed.

“What happened?” Jack asked him as he felt hands underneath his shoulders prodding him to sit. “You okay?”

“I’m fine. Uh, what’s going on? Why are they treating us like criminals all of a sudden?” He frowned at each of his three friends in turn, trying to read their expressions in the dim light. He waved his hand around the teepee. “I’m assuming this is serving as some type of holding cell?”

“It is because of my presence here, Daniel Jackson. This was a planet under Apophis’ rule, though I have not been here before.”

“Yeah, apparently there’s been a little Goa’uldy influence after all. The good news is that they’ve been pretty calm about it all so far. Where the hell did you get that?” Jack asked, pointing vaguely, then indicating his own jaw.

Daniel shrugged. “Oh, you know…I hit one of them first.”

“You didn’t. Excellent communication skills there, Daniel. I’m sure that will do wonders to regain their trust,” Jack snorted, beginning to pace.

“Regain…what?”

“They think we’re aligned with Apophis; that our trade deal is a scam. Apophis obviously plays…played…some role in their belief system. They called him a trickster,” Sam told him, helping him to his feet.

“So when they saw Teal’c's tattoo, they thought we were working for him? That should be pretty easy to explain. Tomahe’s a very rational man…”

“Where have I heard that before? Let me ask you this—how many words did you get in before they hit you, Daniel? Ah, let me guess. Two?”

Jack had a point but he maintained hope the Wayzata would listen to reason. And apparently they were about to find out sooner rather than later. The flap covering the small entrance to the teepee abruptly flew back, letting in the sunshine.

“Come.”

Daniel drew in a deep breath and hoped they could get out of this without trouble.

As he stooped out of the teepee, Jack really didn’t have a good feeling. It was amazing how a person’s attitude could change so drastically in such a short amount of time. Not more than half an hour ago, he was looking forward to relaxing and enjoying himself. Now? Not even close. He was trying not to be a pessimist but he thought the chances of them leaving P8C 218 with a sweet trinium deal were getting slimmer and slimmer by the minute. Actually, that wouldn’t even be so bad. Daniel’s spectacular entrance into their prison, though, had sent up classic warning bells.

So did the quick deliberation by Tomahe. Unless there hadn’t been a deliberation yet, and they were on their way for just that. None of them needed the stress of being on trial at the moment, especially not Teal’c. Jack remembered very clearly his frustration at the Jaffa’s acceptance of his punishment on Cartago. It was an incident he pretended to possess vague memories of but in truth, he could remember every single moment of that particular mission. What if Teal’c up and decided to take the fall again? He felt horrible for even thinking it, but he wondered if he, Carter and Daniel were up to the task of triple defense attorneys.

Trying to at least appear calm, Jack stretched his arms above his head as he had done earlier. The village had become incredibly quiet—the women and children had all but vanished, and the men were gathered together around the same table where he and Daniel had just eaten. Apparently changes in attitude were not limited to him and his team. The once jovial group of people now scowled at them somberly as they were guided to the center of the assembly.

Tomahe sat at the head of the now cleared table, looking sad and grim. Jack’s stomach tightened and the alarms in his head went from DEFCON five to DEFCON three. Grim, he could accept. Sad gave a whole new string of possibilities. Foremost on his mind was this wouldn’t be a simple case of no deal, go home. He edged closer to Teal’c as if it would protect his friend from an as yet unknown threat, unable to shake the feeling whatever was to come, the Jaffa would be at the heart of it. Daniel and Carter mirrored his movements.

Shaking his head, Tomahe stood when they stopped directly in front of him. He looked as though he were about to speak but had no idea what to say. Jack speculated if that was how he appeared to Carter, Daniel and Teal’c most of the time. The men surrounding the village leader, however, were anything but befuddled. They could definitely be interpreted as borderline hostile.

Finally, Tomahe began speaking. “I do not even know how to address you. Are you friend or enemy? When Ciqala implied your possible duality, I was skeptical. Now I am uncertain my faith was well placed.”

Jack opened his mouth to speak but he had no idea what to say. He had already tried to tell the Wayzata about Teal’c, and had been shot down. Tomahe’s right hand flew up, halting the unformed explanation before it could even get underway. He snapped his jaw shut tightly, nodding in acquiescence. On the other side of Teal’c, Jack saw Daniel’s mouth also closing and wisely bit back a grin at their like-mindedness.

“The possibility of friendship between your people and mine still exists,” the native continued, looking at them seriously. His gaze lingered on Teal’c. “However, if it is to be so, we seek confirmation of your good intentions.”

“Well then,” he burst, incapable of holding in any longer. “It’s very easy to explain -”

Unsurprisingly, his words solicited a response before he could even complete his sentence. Angry pain burned the back of his legs, and then he was on his knees. That particular tactic was such a clich. The antagonists in any good altercation always had to clip someone to the ground, right? It was an unwritten rule. Wait, though. In this case, they might be considered the bad guys. Jack sheepishly looked up at his teammates. Carter and Daniel frowned at him with equal amounts of concern and disapproval. He shrugged.

“Ciqala, that was not necessary,” Tomahe reprimanded calmly, watching Daniel help him to his feet. “O’Neill is right. They should be allowed to plead their case. I do not wish to hear it from him, however.”

Circling around the table, the elder halted in front of them. There was no malevolence in his words or expression, merely apprehension for his people’s well being. Jack took comfort in his interpretation of Tomahe’s state of mind, tension easing slightly. The Wayzata wouldn’t harm them. He was one hundred percent certain of that. Somewhere from behind and to his left, a low grumble emerged. Ninety-nine percent certain.

Tomahe paused before Teal’c, turning observant eyes to his, Carter, and Daniel’s positions. Jack swore he saw the native nod as he resumed speaking. “Tell me, minion of trickster Apophis, are these truly your friends or mere pawns for your use? Slaves?”

For a long breath, there was silence. Jack heard Carter swallow and Daniel shuffle his weight, while he fought the need to clear his throat. Teal’c didn’t move a muscle. Not even the telltale jaw twitch…twitched. Tomahe’s query was too close to the experiences they had all just gone through. Even if that Teal’c was brainwashed, he had considered them lesser than himself. Jack finally did make a gurgling noise, not quite a throat clearing but enough to break the dead air.

Teal’c still didn’t alter his position as he replied, “I am no longer in the service of Apophis. He is, in fact, deceased. I fight alongside the Tau’ri against false gods such as he.”

Jack tried not to cringe when Teal’c referred to them as Tau’ri instead of friends. Deliberate or not, it hurt. Both in that Teal’c might not consider them friends or that he might not consider himself worthy of friendship. Eyes narrowing, Tomahe changed focus onto him. Uh oh. The other man had picked up on Teal’c's distinction as well. Jack wanted to give Teal’c some type of cue to use caution in his choice of words, a warning which normally would have been redundant. Fearing any sign from him would somehow serve to strengthen the Wayzata’s doubt of their honor, he instead tried to make his expression one of complete pleasantness.

“So you have said,” Tomahe amicably agreed, still eyeing Jack exclusively. “But we have also said the words of a trickster cannot be taken so lightly. Is it not true Daniel Jackson struck Atonwa?”

One of the men came forward at his mention, showing a jaw smudged by a bruise. Crap. The one time Daniel actually had been showing self preservation was now being held against them. Jack wasn’t sure if he should refute Tomahe’s claim or not. Permission to speak seemed to be required first, and he hadn’t received it yet. The village elder nodded once at Daniel.

“That is true. However, I was not totally aware of exactly what or whom I was hitting at the time,” Daniel admitted, an embarrassed look flickering toward him. On schedule, the younger man’s hands started gesturing wildly. “You see, I was returning to the village and I thought something was tracking me, which turned out to be true actually. It just wasn’t what I expected and I didn’t realize it until it was too late to stop. I did apologize, for what it’s worth. He didn’t seem too -”

“Ahm, Daniel?” Jack broke into the archaeologist’s nervously wordy confession before the Wayzata started getting impatient. When his interruption didn’t gain a negative response from the natives, he hastily continued, “I think they got it. Accident, right?”

“Uh, right.”

“You speak true, Daniel,” Tomahe mused with a slight smile. “As you describe it, anyone would have acted in the same manner. I did not approve Ciqala’s deception in escorting you back to the village, whether you be friend or foe. Please accept my apology.”

“Of course.”

Jack found himself puzzled by the strange mixture of trust and mistrust. It seemed so easy for Tomahe to believe the archaeologist meant no harm in his actions, yet the same truth that Daniel wouldn’t have apologized if he truly served Apophis didn’t seem to register. No sense whatsoever could be derived from the double standard. As far as he was concerned, they had already demonstrated their good will but they were still here, facing sentence for nonexistent crimes. Guilty until proven innocent, a common theme in many cultures as Daniel had once tried to point out to him.

“Your self defensive act does not negate the possibility you serve Apophis. As I said, anyone would have acted as you,” Tomahe said.

Oy.

“Apophis is dead. He was no god, though he may have been a trickster. My…friends did battle with him and prevailed,” Teal’c suddenly spoke again. “Unlike I, they have never sworn allegiance to him. If it is proof of our loyalty you seek, there is no need to obtain it from anyone but me.”

Great. His fear was coming to life. Jack unconsciously shook his head, frustrated at Teal’c for offering himself up so readily. Even as his friend’s words hit the audience, he knew they were futile. No way would he let Teal’c stand this, whatever this turned out to be, alone. Not again. He snatched a look at Ciqala, then Tomahe. They wouldn’t be satisfied unless they knew all of SG1 was trustworthy.

“I truly wish your statement alone could be believed. We have a saying—actions speak louder than words. A simple test should prove whether you serve Apophis or if you are honorable.”

“Yeah, we have that saying too. And believe me, if we worked for Apophis, you’d know it by now. Don’t you think it odd Teal’c and Carter gave in without protest? That Daniel and I chit-chatted for hours without raising a hand against anyone? What do those actions say?” Jack asked, disregarding the implied ‘do not speak unless spoken to’ rule. Frustration at the elder’s narrow-mindedness overruled caution.

“How long has it been since you’ve seen Apophis?” Carter butted in. “Several years, right? Ever wonder why?”

“We can tell you why. Please Tomahe,” Daniel continued. “You can trust us.”

Conflicted emotions swapped places on the elder’s expressive face like they were tag team wrestlers. Jack felt hope return. They were getting through to him. Tomahe exchanged glances with Ciqala and the rest of the men, and he noted with alarm only half the crowd looked to be swaying in their favor. He had the feeling this was an all or nothing deal; they had to convince everyone. Judging from the scowls, it wouldn’t be easy.

“Ciqala, bring it,” Tomahe directed.

So not promising. Tomahe had just essentially gagged them—they weren’t going to talk out of this. All Jack could do now was hope the actions they’d have to go through wouldn’t cause permanent harm to one or all of his team. Not knowing what ‘it’ was, he could only guess ‘it’ wasn’t a good thing. A sudden thought that flight might be their best option crossed his mind, and he searched the crowd for blatant weak spots. Disappointed when he found none, he slapped his right palm against his thigh over and over. His hands were figuratively tied and he didn’t like that feeling one bit. The point was moot anyway, he realized—their GDOs were gone.

Ciqala slipped back through the crowd, carrying a small bundle of cloth. The native drew up to Tomahe, and Jack saw the cloth was actually draped over something, not really a package. Gruesome images popped into his head—all of various implements of torture. He was pleasantly surprised and relieved when the covering was removed to reveal three very harmless looking earthenware bottles on a serving plate.

Jack allowed himself to relax just slightly. Maybe the Wayzata had some natural version of sodium pentothal. A little truth serum might cause some embarrassment, but it sure as heck would prove their innocence. Once this test was over, he could mend fences with those of his team he would no doubt offend and with Tomahe, then have an entire day of fishing. He might even get a couple of hours in yet today.

This wasn’t so bad at all.

Sam watched her CO carefully, ready for any signal he should give for action. His face had remained relatively inexpressive throughout Tomahe’s speech, but she was disturbed when emotion had managed to rupture through. If anything was an indication of the stress the colonel was under, it was a break in his stony, military faade. The things he flashed revealed much both to her and she was sure to Tomahe. She could see his frequent glances at Teal’c as concern; she also knew from an outside perspective they might be interpreted as anxiety. Or, more dangerously, as nervousness of a slave for his master. Any attempt by her to get his attention would have only exacerbated the suspicions of the Wayzata.

Now, as the small vials were displayed before them, Sam read the relief on his face. It was so obvious she could almost hear as well as see it. Shifting to check on Daniel, she witnessed the exact same expression take his face hostage. Teal’c though, standing in between the pair, remained extremely still. He had only moved to speak and even in those instances he hadn’t given the impression he believed what he was saying. To say she was worried would be an understatement. She started to think maybe he didn’t believe it. No, she mentally amended. Teal’c believed Apophis was dead; what she was troubled he didn’t believe was that she, Daniel and the colonel were still his friends. Sam shook her head and tried to focus on the events unfolding around her, turning to once again to the colonel.

Judging from his stance, he seemed to think the little bottles posed minimal threat but something in her gut told her otherwise. The Blood of Sohkar had been an unpleasant experience for each of them—what if this was the same stuff? She wasn’t sure she wanted to take that trip again…no, she was positive. She was almost as concerned by the fact there were only three containers. Logically, she figured they were for the three humans of SG1, so what would Teal’c endure instead?

Her experience with the Wayzata was painfully limited, and knowledge specifically of Tomahe even more so. Sam couldn’t be sure the test they were going to be subjected to would remain as harmless as their treatment had been so far. Surveying the men surrounding them, she decided it was better to stay calm and see what progressed than provoke unnecessary violence. Every indication from the colonel said he felt the same, and a good portion of the natives were staring at them with uncertain curiosity, not fear or anger. Ultimately, she knew there was little to be done to stop the proceedings. She tamped down on the part of her wanting to vocalize her questions and objections. Talking was bound to be plentiful in a few minutes.

“We are telling the truth. You don’t need to give us anything to tell it. We already are,” Daniel reiterated, ending the silence at last. His words were repetitive, betraying the desperation he tried to keep from manifesting, and Sam silently thanked him for issuing the protestations she wanted to. Daniel was remembering Netu also, she could see the same expression of disbelief and pain barely shining from his eyes now as had after her return to the pit.

“We must be sure,” Tomahe maintained. “Do not fear. No harm will come to you unmerited.”

For some reason, that did little to comfort her. With a wave of his hand, Tomahe directed Ciqala to follow him. He went to Teal’c first, taking him by the arm and guiding him forward and away from them. Heart beating triple time, Sam took an unconscious step, stopped by the colonel’s hand and a headshake. She frowned, but halted in compliance, pivoting to watch Teal’c.

When they were about fifteen steps away, Tomahe nodded for Teal’c to stay still. Ciqala at his heels, the elder bent down and traced a large circle around her friend, then quartered it with lines running directly north, south, east and west. He reached for two pouches tied to a belt around his waist, pouring the contents of one into his right hand. Appraising Teal’c, he began to speak lowly. Sam could barely discern his voice but realized he wasn’t speaking English. She drew her gaze to Daniel in unspoken inquiry. The archaeologist’s face was scrunched in concentration, head shaking. He couldn’t translate for her.

Sighing, she returned her attention to the ceremony and hoped she’d be able to figure out what was going on by herself. Tomahe had filled the east/west running line with black sand or ash and had turned Teal’c around to face them. Due south. The elder stood in front of him again, still chanting in a very beautiful, but totally incomprehensible language. Random realization that Tomahe also served as the community’s shaman plopped into her brain, a thought she immediately dismissed as trivial. And obvious. She shook her head and watched him empty the other pouch into his hand and walk around Teal’c to trickle something into the north/south line. Sam saw burnt red filtering through his fingers, and it mesmerized her. It looked like blood. She shivered and swallowed heavily, averting her eyes to look instead at her friend in the center of the circle.

Incredible calm was all she could see, and it didn’t surprise her. Teal’c was ready for whatever test the Wayzata saw fit to administer, physically. She hoped mentally as well. The question of his loyalty to them was academic—they had lived through the worst doubt already. Had lost that belief and regained it. Nothing done here would change that. She hoped he would come through it understanding their friendship and his worth to them. She hoped he would just come through it.

Tomahe said a few more unintelligible words before reaching for the first bottle Ciqala presented to him. He picked it up, removing the cover and toying with it loosely. Sam now thought all of the vials were for Teal’c, not for her, Daniel and the colonel as she had supposed earlier. The elder paused as if deliberating, his head swinging back and forth between the three of them and Teal’c. His shoulders straightened as he started walking toward them at last.

“No!” Teal’c cried out, voice startlingly loud over the hushed crowd. “Your concern lies with me. Do not harm my friends.”

Stride breaking, the elder spared him a glance and stated, “No harm will befall them if it is not meant to be.”

As he resumed his approach, Sam thought she saw gladness light in his eyes. Knitting her brows, she looked again to her CO. The colonel stood still, though his hands were bunching tightly. Apprehension was rising in his tensed face, back stiff. There was still nothing she could do or say to stop this from happening, and no valid reason for her unquestionable fear. Tomahe went directly to stand in front of the colonel, whose jaw now clenched in time with his fists. He said nothing as the elder began speaking in undertones again.

The bottle was raised above their heads for a full minute, the entire gathering caught up in the ceremony. Sam still heard Teal’c shouting, but the roar of blood in her ears muffled his voice. She swiveled her neck to make sure he was all right, and saw ten Wayzata had enclosed around the circle, preventing him from rushing to their sides.

She was more certain now than ever the content of the vials was more than simple truth serum. Tomahe lowered the bottle to the colonel’s tightly pursed lips. This first small sign of obvious rebellion was not missed by her, or any of the Wayzata. Atonwa, the one Daniel had struck, interposed between him and Tomahe, hands clamping onto the colonel’s jaw to pry it open. Without hesitation, the elder poured the thick liquid down his throat, then clasped his hands in a strong grip. The colonel fought to extricate himself, but wasn’t able to move. Apparently satisfied the potion had been swallowed, Atonwa released his head.

“Gah! That’s horrible!” the colonel roared, gagging slightly. His face went abruptly pale and his eyes glazed over. “W-what?”

“Jack, I think I know—”

“Quiet,” Atonwa hissed and moved to Daniel’s side. The native towered menacingly over him, ready to force his mouth open if necessary.

“You don’t have to…urgh,” Daniel gurgled as hands clamped on his jaw, words swallowed.

“Hey, knock it off!” the colonel muttered, already slurring noticeably. Sam saw him take a stuttering step toward Daniel, easily restrained by a single native. She frowned.

Tomahe ignored both men, continuing on with his incantation. He cautiously removed Daniel’s glasses and handed them to Ciqala before placing his free hand over the archaeologist’s eyes. Sam’s breathing increased right along with her friend’s, his alarm seeming to multiply in her. If Daniel was on the verge of panic, she knew they were in trouble. As if she hadn’t already determined that.

She closed her eyes, listening only to Daniel’s retches of displeasure. Instantly aware of his release when she heard him let out a string of curses, language so atypical for him, her anxiety was now mountainous. Opening her eyes again, she found herself looking directly into strangely sorrowful brown eyes. She glared back with disgust, refusing to give the Wayzata the satisfaction of her worry by looking at any of her teammates. Suddenly, though, she found her voice.

“I don’t know what you think your magic potion is going to tell you. The colonel said it before—we’ve all said it! If we really served Apophis, you would have known it long ago. This is a total clich thing to say, but what you’re doing is an exercise in futility. We are peaceful travelers and we want to be your friends. Though after this we may reconsider.”

Tomahe blinked, appearing somewhat befuddled by her outburst. Then the sadness returned and he quietly placed a palm across her lips while he began the last stage of the ceremony. Sam grunted in protest, catching the colonel slumping to the ground out of the corner of her eyes. Jerking her head away from the elder’s hand, she studied his still form for signs of life. His breathing was shallow, barely registering. Whatever this stuff was, it was fast acting.

“You speak with passion,” Tomahe said, regret coloring his tone. “All of you. Your concern for one another is compelling, I admit, especially for the Jaffa. I believe all will be well.”

Before she could figure out what he was talking about, Atonwa was giving her the royal open-yourmouth treatment and something vile breached her lips. Choking on the liquid, Sam’s stomach was rising up in anticipation as it unwillingly slid down her throat. The texture of molasses, it was some of the nastiest stuff she had ever experienced—reeking like river mud on a hot, humid day and tasting exactly as it smelled. Its effects were nearly instantaneous.

Atonwa released her and she wavered unsteadily. Everything appeared to ripple, executing graceful flips. She raised her hands in the air and wiggled her fingers, watching with fascination as both her hands and their digits multiplied. A deep, burning sensation began to set upon her throat, making her cough dryly. Swallowing was difficult, though she really needed to alleviate the parched feeling.

The thud of Daniel collapsing next to her echoed loudly and she tried to locate him, finding herself unable to move. Her name. Someone was calling to her…Teal’c? Squinting through dimming vision, Sam searched for him. She cleared her throat, pain tearing through it. What was happening to her?

“Teal’c?” she screamed, though her ears only heard a faint whisper.

Then the ground proved its solidity, sneaking up and thumping her into unconsciousness.

Though he was effectively segregated from his friends and unable to assist them, Teal’c refused to be silenced by the men guarding him. Their threatening stares only provoked his outrage, his muscles contracting with readiness to fight. Once again his friends were being made to suffer for his crimes, and only logic and knowledge his actions would in the end harm their position prevented him from plowing through the human barrier. Major Carter remained standing, albeit on shaky legs. Her head bobbed toward their fallen companions in uncoordinated jerks.

“Major Carter!” he called, uncertain if she could hear him. Uncertain what he hoped to say to her.

Head slowly lifting, she peered in his direction. Her face was unnaturally flushed, eyes drunken as she raggedly whispered, “Teal’c?”

He could give her no assurances; only watch her slide to the ground as O’Neill and Daniel Jackson had only minutes ago. Teal’c stonily glared at Tomahe as he returned to him. Rage boiled within at the Wayzata’s deception. They had been assured no one would be injured, yet his friends all sprawled unconscious on the ground, victims of some type of drug. He was certain his own fate was about to be determined.

“You care for them deeply,” the elder declared knowingly.

Teal’c raised an eyebrow at the smaller man, realizing Tomahe wasn’t asking him a question, merely stating fact. Under situations of capture and interrogation, he was accustomed to concealing all emotion, a skill long practiced. In this instance, though, he did not think denial would be effectual. The Wayzata appeared to be an intuitive people, the elder and shaman even more than the rest. To contradict the statement would only succeed in proving their trickery.

“I do,” he stated, looking beyond the native to his inert teammates.

Tomahe nodded once, following his gaze. A frown deepened the wrinkles lining his eyes as he shook his head sadly. “Were it completely up to me, the trial would be over. Your kinship with them demonstrates you have a good heart, too good to serve the likes of Apophis. The others require more convincing.”

“What is it you will have me do? Be assured, my own life matters little compared to my friends. They do not deserve to be treated in such a manner.”

“What I told you was true—they have not been injured. Unfortunately, I cannot guarantee their continued health. That is for you to ensure, Teal’c.”

Restraining a growl of frustration, Teal’c wished Tomahe would simply proceed with the test. He would do all in his power to see his companions returned to the SGC unharmed, surely the Wayzata understood that? Eyes pinned on O’Neill’s limp body, he squeezed his jaw convulsively.

“How am I to do so?” he repeated.

“First I must have your friends placed in a more comfortable location. They will be unconscious for quite some time, and it is not my desire to cause them ill,” Tomahe explained. “I assure you, they will not be mistreated.”

“So you keep telling me. Am I to believe you so readily?”

“Come, then. We will join them.”

The assembly of men containing him to the circle parted at a slight gesture from Tomahe, and for the first time Teal’c was comfortable moving. The elder led him to his friends’ sides, the guards forming an entourage behind them. Flight, if he would choose to abandon his team, was an impossibility. The simple thought rankled him, as though it alone was a betrayal.

Ciqala hoisted O’Neill carefully over his shoulder, with a thoughtful eye turned to Tomahe. Teal’c had the impression his handling would not be so gentle were the elder not present. The same could be said for Atonwa, who similarly lifted Daniel Jackson. He caught the native’s eyes snapping with irritation, his jaw working side to side to accentuate the discoloration placed there by the scientist. Teal’c did not hold back a snarl this time, and was immediately rewarded by a head bowing in resentful acquiescence. Major Carter’s transporter carried out his duties without a sound, managing her with delicacy. He presumed it was due to her gender more than anything.

They journeyed back to the teepee in which SG1 had been held before. Teal’c rotated his gaze between each of the three swaying figures before him, feelings of self-condemnation tiding again. They were useless thoughts. His confidence his companions were accepting of his presence among them had grown even since their confinement. He would not fail them now.

He and Tomahe remained outside as O’Neill, Major Carter and Daniel Jackson were carried into the structure. Sensitive ears distinctly heard them being jostled callously to the ground, and it disturbed him when no sounds of discomfort were emitted. The Wayzata were determining trust in them but Teal’c was finding it more and more difficult to extend the same consideration. He knew Tomahe could not have control over individual actions. Still, what was the saying O’Neill had said in reference to Colonel Maybourne? One bad apple spoiled the barrel?

Ciqala, Atonwa and the nameless Wayzata exited the teepee, holding the flap open for them and carrying the vests of his companions. He removed his own before instructed to do so, letting it fall to the ground. Tomahe entered quickly the structure, then called for him to follow. He did, giving the natives surrounding him a look threatening retribution should they seek to damage him or the rest of SG1. Gratification came in the form of hastily averted eyes. Teal’c knew he would maintain a close watch on at least Atonwa, who appeared to hold little power but had been the one to show the most obvious dislike for them.

A quick perusal of the enclosure gave comfort in his friends’ safety. They were all lying on their backs, close together so their shoulders touched. The tent provided protection from the sun, and it was considerably cooler within than it was outside. He was heartened to see they would have at least minimal body heat, should they be detained for any length of time.

“Out of fairness, I must tell you basic information you will need for the next several days. The potions your companions were made to drink have three distinct results. When they awake, each will feel the effects acutely, and I must remind you these conditions can be reversed. They will only be so if you are successful.”

Again, Teal’c's aggravations abounded. The long-winded explanation Tomahe was providing made him think he would be extremely unhappy when the true nature of the test was revealed to him. He nodded his understanding to prompt the elder to continue.

“O’Neill will be incapable of using his hands. Daniel will not be able to see. Major Carter’s voice will not function,” Tomahe quickly delivered the information. “You will be taken far from the village and left, with no tools or food. It will be up to all of you to return here within two days.”

Teal’c did not understand how this would prove their honesty. Tomahe seemed to sense his confusion, continuing, “The soul of a person recently deceased is kept by an individual. This person must treat his eyes, his hands, and his voice as sacred vessels for the soul. In a similar way, your friends each now lack a component of the soul. Your soul. In order to prove your soul, and theirs, worthy to walk the Red Road, you must keep them safe.”

He remained unclear as to the meaning behind the test but now that his role was defined, Teal’c wished only for it to be underway. As if his thoughts were broadcast, he heard numerous footfalls approaching, both animal and human. Tomahe nodded, gesturing for him to leave the teepee. Stepping out, he was greeted by several men atop horses. Roughly hewn travois were attached behind three of them, one presumably for each of his teammates. More time had passed than he realized, the sky deepened with the approaching sunset. The temperature was significantly cooler.

Apologetically, the elder took his hands and bound them securely. Natives moved past them into the teepee to retrieve his friends, and they were swiftly placed upon the biers. Teal’c noted O’Neill’s hands were curled arthritically, a reminder of the handicaps forced upon the trio. Prodded to mount one of the horses, he tore his eyes away to look stoically ahead.

Once situated, the band of natives began their journey, leaving the village at a trot, taking a northern route. The trip was uneventful and quiet, giving him ample opportunity to memorize the terrain in the fading light. For a good while, there was nothing but grass. Gradually, the ground became more sparsely covered and rockier. Teal’c believed they had traveled between five and ten kilometers at the most when he observed a huge dark expanse in the ground.

As they drew nearer he realized it was a large gorge, only about two hundred feet across but so wide he could not see where it ended. A rope and wooden bridge crossed the divide, and it was here they stopped. He was prompted to dismount his horse, which he did while still sustaining visual contact with his unconscious friends. They were picked up and carried to the bridge, carefully taken across one by one.

Once they were on the other side, Teal’c followed. Tomahe was right behind him, ushering him along as though there was a rush. Teal’c was starting to suspect the true difficulty of the test they were about to undergo. Upon stepping off the bridge, Tomahe set upon releasing his bonds.

Warm hands remained on his as the elder spoke. “I think you understand. We will leave you here, but access to the bridge will be removed. I wish you luck, Teal’c. For both your people and mine.”

With that, the Wayzata men quickly crossed back over the bridge. When the last had made it, Teal’c saw them removing the sturdy posts stabilizing the bridge, their grunts of effort echoing over to him. He solemnly watched, feeling alarmingly helpless. It took them considerable time, during all of which he stood impotently. Finally, he saw one side fold over and the other followed shortly. The ropes slapped the wall of the canyon with finality. It had begun.

Twilight still clinging, Teal’c made a hasty study of their new surroundings. The coolness of the air did not go unnoticed, and he knew the first thing he should do was attempt to build a fire. Eerie howling started up as the Wayzata got farther and farther away. It made the need for fire all the more important.

Reassured his friends would not awaken for some time yet, Teal’c scouted the surrounding area for anything that might prove suitable to burn. He never went out of eyesight of the three huddled figures, fearing the creatures of the night would sense easy prey. He gathered as many dried tufts of grass as he could, knowing it was not enough. It would have to do.

He piled it together tightly, and removed his jacket. Tearing it into strips for added fuel, he searched the ground for two flat stones. Doubt waged within. What if he could not start the fire using this method? The cold and the animals would become viable threats in a short amount of time.

Dismissing the negative thoughts, Teal’c painstakingly scraped the rocks against each other, rewarded with minute sparks. The grass failed to ignite, and he continued on, conscious of the howls coming nearer. This would work.

There was no other option.