A/N: this is the third of three loosely woven stories. Warning: mature subject matter. Another warning: they own everything, I own nothing.

Teknet's Treasure

By OughtaKnowBetter

"Unscheduled 'Gate activation! Unscheduled 'Gate activation!" The alarm rang out over the loudspeaker that echoed through the corridors of StarGate Command. Men in helmets and fatigues, armed with P-90's, swarmed into the Gate room, setting up shields and preparing to aim at the closed iris which prevented anything from The Great Beyond from rematerializing from the wormhole and trying to boil in. Another team dragged in the heavy firepower: a laser cannon guaranteed to give the emerging being a suntan that he—or she—or it—would never forget.

They hoped.

General Hammond hustled into the control room, beating Colonel O'Neill by mere instants and a few pounds of bulk that slowed him down not one whit. "Do we have an ID code?"

"No, sir, nothing yet… Wait! Here it is! It's SG- 12, sir. Coming in hot!"

"Open the iris," Hammond ordered, grimly. He opened the channel into the Gate room proper. "On your toes, people. This is not a drill." He dialed another extension. "Medical team to the Gate room. Just in case."

Teal'c entered a moment later, his eyes bypassing the control panel in favor of the glassed in scene in front, managing to hurry without looking rushed. O'Neill knew better.

"SG-12," he said quietly in response to Teal'c's unasked question. They both knew what he meant: Daniel Jackson had gone out with that team just six short hours ago. The plan had been for Daniel to smooth things over for the next team coming in to take over diplomatic negotiations. SG-1 had made the first contact, now it was SG-12's turn to head back to set up the treaty and lay out the ground work for a long and pleasant inter-planetary relationship. All SG-12 needed Daniel for was to brief them on the culture, introduce them to the Persons of Impeccable Bearing, and get a couple of signatures on some very expensive high grade bond paper. The gold-etched pens could be left behind as souvenirs for the locals. What had gone wrong?

The answer wasn't long in coming. The iris swirled open, the blue event horizon flashing into lethal existence, and the first pair of men barreled through with a third body slung between them, dripping blood and yelling for medical assistance. A fourth emerged backward, his own P-90 still smoking from the rounds fired only moments previously, his fatigues as ripped and torn and covered with soot as the other three. Designated men surged forward, relieving the incoming team of their burden and pouring the injured man onto the waiting stretcher to be whisked off to the infirmary in a flash. O'Neill scanned the faces anxiously: it was Colonel Lassiter himself who was down for the count, his two sergeants dragging him back through the 'Gate. The second in command had the smoking gun. Where was Daniel? Damn trouble magnet. O'Neill could feel cold ice forming in his belly.

Carter slipped in beside the men in the room high above the 'Gate, eyes automatically going to the control panel in front of the corpsman, her knuckles whitening, reading the results from the dials. But not a word did she say. O'Neill lifted an anxious eyebrow: any more coming through? A barely perceptible nod: yes. O'Neill's shoulders relaxed a miniscule amount.

The blue interior of the StarGate shivered once again and spit forth one last figure: Daniel Jackson. The man staggered, caught himself against the railing before another of the designated welcoming committee could grab him and pull him away from the 'Gate. They hustled the civilian down the ramp into the waiting crowd below, watching for any more to stomp out of the blue event horizon: any new arrivals would be armed and ready to kill.

"Close the iris." Hammond kept his voice calm and in control. "Major?"

"No one in transit," Carter confirmed.

"Iris closed," the corpsman reported. Unnecessary, O'Neill thought, since they could all see the heavy titanium cover twirl into place. He trailed Hammond down the steps to the 'Gate room proper, Carter and Teal'c in his wake. Not one wasted a moment.

Hammond stepped over to the ranking member of SG-12. "Major Vincent?"

Vincent wiped the soot from his face, only half aware of what he was doing, still looking around him as though more men were after him. Sweat poured off of him and the two remaining members of SG-12, sweat laced with the acrid scent of fear. "They turned on us, General! Every single damned person on that planet! They kidnapped the colonel and tortured him. We only just barely made it back to the 'Gate." He threw an angry glare toward Dr. Jackson. "Looking forward to the de-briefing, General. Looking forward to getting that damn civilian off this base before he kills someone. If he hasn't already." He threw an angry salute in the general's direction. "Permission to check on my C.O., sir, and see if he's still breathing."

Daniel Jackson turned and stumbled out of the 'Gate room.


The cold tile felt good against his back. Daniel leaned his back against the hard surface of the wall of the men's room, wondering if he had enough strength to move to the sink to rinse out his mouth. The sour taste of vomit coated his tongue, but there was the serious consideration of ending up flopped on the equally cold tile floor if he tried to get there.

He became aware of someone standing over him, a tall and looming presence. "Are you comfortable on the floor?"

That didn't sound quite right. Daniel was quite certain that he was still standing. Well, no, maybe he wasn't. There was a certain icy sensation under his backside that suggested that sometime in the intervening minutes he had slid down the wall and gone from standing upright on his feet to sitting upright on his butt. He opened his eyes. The silver-haired figure standing in front of him looked like Daniel ought to remember him. The face was blurry, but the voice was familiar. He blinked. "Jack?"

A quiet sigh. "How many fingers am I holding up?"

Daniel squinted. "I never knew you had six fingers on one hand."

Another sigh, this one a little more worried. "Think maybe skipping out on the doc's special post-mission exam was a trifle hasty?"

Daniel decided that that question was best left unanswered.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

Try as he would, answers to that question weren't coming easily, either.


To his credit, Major Vincent was trying to keep his anger in check. "Yes, sir. We did the standard meet and greet. Jackson introduced us to maybe half the people there; we got through their version of shaking hands without incident."

O'Neill nodded; he remembered that rite of passage, remembered being impressed how Daniel had latched onto it so quickly. Without the linguist's skills SG-1 would have ended up coming home empty-handed, or perhaps even without hands. The Theolosians were not a particularly peaceful people under the best of circumstances, and meeting a new people from another world didn't qualify as best circumstances. O'Neill still remembered the Most Important Warrior sizing him up, wondering just how he could expect to take that humongous bozo down and not lose a limb doing it. Or if he could even take him down at all.

Daniel Jackson was not present at this debriefing. Frasier had taken one look, ordered him on bed rest under medical observation for twenty-four hours, and Daniel, for a change, hadn't argued. But the rest of SG-1 and SG-12 were present, minus Colonel Lassiter, with General Hammond presiding over the debriefing. They had taken their places around the table in the briefing room with each team on a side: the battle lines were drawn. O'Neill hadn't liked the seating chart but as the last man in after seeing to his civilian team member, he hadn't much choice as to where he would sit. He could have stood on rank and demanded a let's-play-nice arrangement, but that, he realized, would only have made the situation worse. SG-12 was glaring at SG-1, and as for SG-1? Well, Teal'c didn't need a glower to appear threatening.

Vincent continued. "It was all downhill from there. They escorted us inside their government building, the one with the bell tower. You remember it, Colonel. You mentioned it to me in your report yesterday, the place where they hold all their important community events. We got there as nice as you please, then they took Colonel Lassiter away by himself. That's the last we saw of him, until Jackson dragged him out a few hours later. Like that." He jerked an angry thumb in the general direction of the infirmary. He stuck out his chin. "Jackson blew it. He led us into a trap. We all would've been like Colonel Lassiter if we hadn't been lucky. They were out to get us, and Jackson didn't spot it." Vincent turned to face the commander of the SGC, veins standing out on his forehead. "General, Jackson is a civilian, and civilians don't belong on missions like this. We need someone who can do more than a half-ass job of threat-assessment. He put us all at risk. He's more interested in exploring the damn anthropological situations than he is in keeping our hides intact."

O'Neill tightened his lips. "I haven't heard anything yet to back that up, Vincent. Granted, the Theolosians are not the calmest of people. But they're not irrational. You follow their rules, you get what you want. You must have done something to rile them."

"Nothing," Vincent insisted. "Banner, Croft, you were there. Tell them! Tell General Hammond that those Theolosians went nuts, and Jackson didn't see it coming."

Sergeant Banner cast an angry look in Col. O'Neill's direction. "That's right, sir. Dr. Jackson didn't say anything to us." Croft nodded in agreement, but nervous as the depths of Teal'c's frown registered.

O'Neill's frown was also sinking fast. "We need to hear Daniel's version of things."

"What's to hear? We came, we saw, we got our colonel's butt kicked. Sir," Vincent tacked on with poor grace.

Hammond ignored the major. "Colonel O'Neill? How is Dr. Jackson?"

"Sore but living. Frasier said she'd release him tomorrow for light duty."

"And Colonel Lassiter?"

O'Neill frowned, aware that there was a lot of that frowning going around. "Not good, sir. Frasier was rounding up a surgical team when I left, seemed to think that it would be touch and go for the next twenty-four hours. He was beaten pretty badly."

Hammond leaned back in his chair, not satisfied with the outcome of the de-briefing but unable to think of anything more that could be accomplished. He was particularly not satisfied with what appeared to be an impending state of war between the two SG teams. Even Carter was stone-faced, and given the open-mindedness of the major, Hammond thought, that was something to be remarked upon. "We'll recess until tomorrow. Colonel O'Neill, I'm going to ask you to question Dr. Jackson as soon as possible about this. Major Vincent, I don't need to tell you to notify me when Colonel Lassiter is able to speak. We need to get to the bottom of this mess, find out why the Theolosians reacted as they did. No, Major Vincent, I am not satisfied with an explanation of 'they went nuts.' We may not agree with other worlds' ideas on how to conduct themselves, but that doesn't make them any less rational or their rules of behavior any less strict. Dismissed." He paused. "Colonel O'Neill, a word." The general waited until the rest had left, even waiting until Carter had done a backward glance with a question mark on it and then vanished after an admonitory nod from General Hammond: yes, Major Carter, you too.

Hammond wasted no more time. "Colonel, your opinion?"

"Of the Theolosians? Not a clue, general. They're bigoted, pig-headed, angry sons-of-bitches, but as I said, they're not irrational. SG-12 stepped on their toes somehow."

"No, I mean of Major Vincent's allegations about Dr. Jackson's lack of foresight." Hammond folded his hands.

O'Neill shrugged unhappily. "I'm reserving my opinion on that, general. Daniel is stubborn, annoying, flaky, and a general pain in the ass but the one thing he is not is incompetent. I'd like to hear what he has to say before coming to a conclusion."

"So you're not recommending that I pull him off field duty, as Major Vincent suggests?"

O'Neill shifted uneasily. "I think we can safely delay that decision, general. Doc told me that she's grounding him for twenty four hours for concussion. Daniel isn't going anywhere for a day or so."

Hammond sighed. "See what you can get out of him, see if he has an explanation for Colonel Lassiter's treatment at the hands of the Theolosians. Frankly, I'd like to put this incident to rest as quickly as possible. Having two SG teams at war with each other is not going to be good for morale."

"No, sir," O'Neill agreed, thinking of the last time that an SG team annoyed Teal'c. All of Daniel's explanations of Tau're behavior hadn't been enough to sway the big Jaffa, and it was only because O'Neill gave Teal'c a direct order that what's-his-name of SG-6 was still walking on two legs. No, having disgruntled personnel in the SGC was something to be avoided at all costs. "I'll talk to Daniel tonight. Assuming he's able to talk."


Carter wandered into the gym, towel in hand, for her daily morning routine. Strapping on protective gear, she selected a punching bag and went to work. There weren't many people in at this hour; most were still gratefully inhaling their first cup of caffeine and hoping not to be called upon for any heroics until after their second.

Carter enjoyed the gym at this hour. She was in excellent physical shape; that she knew. But in this testosterone-driven environment there were always a few around who felt the need to demonstrate that they could best the little girl who wanted to play with the big boys. The old timers in the SGC had gotten their come-uppance when Carter had first been assigned to Cheyenne Mountain but the newbies always needed a lesson or two. If they arrived in time, Carter felt obligated to give it to them. If they were later in the day, they would have to be satisfied by getting their ego pounded by the alien (not likely. The SGC was not noted for hiring people with minimal intelligence) or the aging colonel with the bad knees (in which case Colonel O'Neill knocked them silly very quickly in order to save those bad knees). Despite his protestations to the contrary, Colonel O'Neill was also not noted for minimal intelligence.

At this hour, however, there were few participants to compete with her for either the equipment or for bragging rights. Carter worked up a fine sweat before becoming aware of the pair to one side of her. A grumbled phrase caught her attention.

"Damn civilian. Getting away with murder."

It was the sergeants from SG-12, Banner and Croft. Carter recognized the tactic immediately: the pair was muttering just loudly enough to be heard yet not so much that she had to take official notice of them. Carter grimaced; she really didn't want to put up with this. All she wanted was a nice, early morning work out before heading down to the infirmary to listen to Daniel wheedle Janet Frasier into allowing him to stay on base to work during the day instead of going home to sleep off the remainder of his concussion. The archeologist would win, too. That Carter was convinced of, through long exposure to the man. Daniel had done his share by sleeping quietly in the infirmary last night, now it was Frasier's turn to give in. At least, that was Daniel's view of the world.

"Civvie's got friends in high places. No way he could crawl out of this hole without 'em." Just a little bit louder.

"Heard he got laughed out of his field. Nobody wants 'im. Why are we the lucky ones that gotta get stuck with the leftovers?"

It was getting louder and harder to ignore. Carter's jabs grew more intense, taking out her frustration on the convenient punching bag.

"Not sending that geek out on my team. Never again. I don't want to get brought back home in a body bag."

Carter sent one last blow to set the bag reeling. She turned to the two sergeants, and kept her voice as even as Colonel O'Neill at his deadliest. "If you keep up this sort of behavior, gentlemen, I can guarantee that neither of you will need to concern yourselves about your condition when you get back through the 'Gate. Because you won't be going out in the first place. Or would you care to continue to challenge General Hammond's assessment of the situation?"

Banner had the good grace to flush. "No, ma'am." Croft merely looked away, hiding the expression that he couldn't contain.

Carter needed to make certain that the message got home. "Perhaps you weren't at the follow up de-briefing that General Hammond held," she suggested sweetly, knowing full well that they were since Croft had been seated next to her shortly before being dismissed for the day. "You remember that? The de-briefing where he told us that Colonel Lassiter didn't follow instructions by ignoring all the Theolosian women?" Carter remembered that part of Daniel's lecturing all too well. She always had to take a deep breath when dealing with cultures that restricted female behavior, and the Theolosians had been particularly trying. And it didn't help when Daniel tried to tell her that there were usually some benefits to the division of tasks. But it was one of the reasons that the all male SG-12 had been selected to take over negotiations. Apparently Colonel Lassiter had forgotten that part of Daniel's lecture as well.

"Yes, ma'am," Banner muttered. Croft said something under his breath.

"What was that, Sergeant Croft? I missed what you said."

"I was there. Major," Croft tacked on with poor grace. "I heard what the general said. I also heard that Colonel O'Neill was the one to question Jackson." There it was, not quite out in the open, but the insinuation that Colonel O'Neill was covering up his team member's mistake.

The temperature got several degrees colder. "I hope you're not suggesting that Colonel O'Neill altered or slanted his report to the general, sergeant."

The look on Croft's face implied exactly that. "No, ma'am."

"Good. Then I can assume that this discussion has been resolved to everyone's satisfaction. Dismissed."

Big assumption, Sam. Probably wrong, too.


It wasn't until a shadow fell over the document that Daniel became aware of another person in his office. The bulk of the shadow suggested Teal'c, and he started to look up with welcome.

It wasn't Teal'c. It was Major Vincent, leaning on his desk, looming over the archeologist, and not looking happy. He placed two massive tree-trunk arms onto Daniel's desk. The sturdy piece of furniture moaned under the stress.

"Are you aware," Vincent asked in an icy voice, "that they are taking Colonel Lassiter back into surgery again this morning? That he may not live? That he's still bleeding from inside his guts where they kicked him until they thought he was dead?"

Daniel blinked. It wasn't clear if Vincent expected an answer. It was clear that the man was just this side of controlled with his anger. Best not to push that anger. "I'm sorry to hear that. Lassiter is a good man. But Janet Frasier is the best. If anyone can pull Lassiter through, it will be Frasier and her team."

"That's Colonel Lassiter to you, Jackson." Vincent cast around, lit on a small pottery vase acting as a paperweight. Last week it had briefly returned to its previous occupation as a vase and proved that it could still hold water. Minoan, Daniel automatically thought, sixth century B.C. Not particularly valuable, but it did hold memories. Major Vincent closed his hand around the object and held it in front of Daniel's face. Then, very deliberately, he squeezed. A crack appeared almost instantly, and a triangular chip fell away from the vase leaving a hole behind. Vincent set the now broken vase back down onto the papers to resume its role of paperweight. He turned back to Daniel. "I hope you'll do the right thing, Dr. Jackson. I'd hate for anyone else to be killed trying to play out of their league."

"No one has died yet." Daniel kept his hands below the level of the desk so that Vincent wouldn't see them shaking. This was a major in the military. He wouldn't lose control. Vincent was angry, but still an officer. This was inside a highly classified, well run military facility. Daniel was in no danger. Still…

"You had better think very carefully about what you put into your report, Dr. Jackson," Vincent added, keeping those icy tones in his voice. "I know I have." He straightened up, took his hands off of Daniel's desk. "Good day, Dr. Jackson."