Title: Phaeton
Fandom: Stargate SG-1
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Genre: Sci-fi, adventure, some hurt/comfort
Season: Story occurs in late season 6

A/N: This story was written in fits and starts over the past 5 years. I miss Stargate so I dream.

And I find it kind of funny,

I find it kind of sad

The dreams in which I'm dying

Are the best I've ever had.

Gary Jules – Mad World

Chapter 1

Prologue

The sun was setting in the west, a magnificent sight to see on this god forsaken rock. Ben sat on a bench in the kitchen yard among the chickens. Presently in the temple, as was done every dawn and dusk, one of the priests was making an offering of a dove to Helios. The screech of a falcon could be heard waiting to take the sacrifice from the altar, bolt into the sky and bring it, supposedly, to the god; it was also doing a good job of terrifying the chickens.

In barely two weeks the festival would be here, when the day and night were equal, when the sky would glow with so many stars that they could not be distinguished one from another, when the poor souls, whose meals he was preparing, would be sacrificed to the rising sun, to Phaeton himself, the god of this world. In all truth the sacrifices would be made to Helios but Phaeton, his loyal and loving son would graciously accept them. Many years ago Phaeton, faithful to his Goa'uld heritage, sent his beloved father to dwell among the stars by cut dear old dad's throat clean through to the backbone, severing his symbiote. Phaeton then had claimed his father's throne, assuming the mantel of godhood.

Ben wondered if his depression was now such a natural state that he would not recognize joy if it bit him in the ass. He spent a lot of his time thinking about killing himself, but certainly not the way these poor men would meet their end, a gruesome spilling of blood and guts as the priest sought to ascertain the future. It had been years and no one had come for him. What happened to no man left behind? Most probably no one knew where he was, no one knew what had happen to them. Had they replaced them? Was a new SG-11 explored the galaxy? If so why the hell didn't they explored here?

He took a deep breath to calm himself. It was never a good thing here to stick out of the crowd. To be noticed by the Goa'uld or his Jaffa most often made you the next in line to be sacrificed to the great god. Ben had sacrificed enough. The rest of his team were dead; he saw it happen, he alone knew. And he would be lying in a shallow grave with them if one of the Jaffa hadn't needed a beast of burden. The Jaffa knew Apophis was dead and sought to feather his nest. So the Jaffa stole whatever he and his new slave could carry and escaped that world, abandoning, to their own devices, the boys playing war games. The Jaffa made a home for himself here and all it cost him was one slave. Ben never saw him again. He thought about this as he ran his finger over the knife he was paring the vegetables with.

The chief cook poked him. "Stop dawdling, the turnips will not peel themselves."

The cook was a good man; the slaves that worked for him were fed well. And although he did not tolerate the lazy or incompetent, he was not cruel or overbearing. Every day he faced the sunrise and sunset and bowed his head but that was the totality of his religiosity, that and providing the best he and his staff were capable of for Phaeton's enjoyment. This also allows him to keep his position and his head. Presently he was organizing the dishes for the coming festival and making a list for the Jaffa who would hunt in the countryside for the delicacies that would grace the god Phaeton's table. The kitchens had the finest produce and meats, all given as tribute or sacrifice to the god. And if not freely given easily procured by the well armed Jaffa.

Ben sipped from the mug of ale and put it down again at his feet and picked up his knife. The ale was excellent. In some of Ben's more manic moods with the aid of a few mugfuls of that excellent ale he envisioned escaping back to Earth with the brewmeister and opening a microbrewery in Colorado Springs. He'd have a ready made clientele – all of the SGC. He pealed another turnip.

Ben thought about the old woman, the first person on this planet to speak to him. She told the Jaffa his fortune and told him he must give his slave to the service of Phaeton in return for the prophecy of a good life and good fortune to come true. And then she demanded to speak privately to his slave. She told Ben that he would see his home again, that he had a destiny and that he sat on the razor edge of fate. What a load of bullshit. It had kept him sane, sort of sane anyway. It had been so long ago, so very long; it had been years. But now he kept thinking he needed to sharpen his knife. He would like to kill that Jaffa first, not the old cook, he had been rather kind to him.

At night when he tried to sleep he could still hear the cries of his team members as they were tortured for information. His throat constricted remembering his own screams. No, he'd kill himself after he killed the Jaffa. Wasn't it sweet to have something to live for. Oh, yes, and prepare a decent meal for the poor bastards in the prison. One last good meal and then they could stop wondering if anyone remembered or cared about them. They would be sent to dwell with Helios among the stars.