So. Chapter 4, of what was originally planned as a one-off POV. But I really like writing in this sparser style. I keep getting these glimpses of what could work themselves into a plot… and I hadn't been planning on anything so enterprising. Anyway – this chapter is, in fact, a direct continuation of the last. Maybe it works. You tell me. And with my very kind reviewers – I felt I had to continue- so this is for them. : )
I guess this explains why we had no idea they were here.

None. Nada.

Zip.

Zilch.

The technology doesn't look Goa'uld to me, although Carter'd be able to tell better.

I think the caveman using it could be one indication.

And seriously? I think Daniel's met his lifetime "dragged away by cavemen" quota already.

But that's just me.

I really wish I'd been able to grab Teal'c and Carter.

I wish I could find out why they haven't answered my hails too...

Although it seems to me that's not exactly addressing the root cause of this issue.

And, if wishes were horses, then we wouldn't want to put the cart before 'em, now would we?

---

The technology appears to be some kind of transporter. Not a ring transporter though.

The big, bad guys step onto the platform, barely distinguishable from the rest of the sand – probably impossible to see from the air – and FLASH! They're gone.

It could also be disintegrating them for all I know. But seeing how we went from deserted desert paradise to two-star caveman convention in the time it took to run half a klick, I'm thinkin' that's not the case.

I so don't want Daniel to be the one to test that theory.

---

The one that's snagged Daniel seems to be last in line.

The brute has Daniel by the back of his vest, dragging him through the sand with one hand wound through the vest's shoulder strap, and thank god for that, because otherwise I think he'd have dragged Daniel by the shirt and probably throttled him or worse.

If one more of these guys goes, I think I can take the other two.

I don't see any weapons on them – well - unless you count those ham-sized fists.

I glance at Daniel, doing his rag-doll impression.

Damn it.

---

My finger is itching on the trigger.

The problem is, they're too close to Daniel.

Best case?

One of those Neanderthals falls right on him.

Worst case?

I don't even want to think about that, but my vision strays to that huge hand, wrapped up in the vest. Close enough the thing's probably having to concentrate to not break Daniel's neck.

Goon number three steps onto the platform, and in the flash that decides his fate, I decide the fate of Daniel's chauffeur with one well-placed shot.

I don't even remember shifting my aim for goon number two.