Chapter Twelve

The palace looked more like an impenetrable fortress to Daniel as the team drew nearer to it. Despite having viewed the MALP data, Daniel couldn't help but feel overwhelmed at the sheer size of the building. A tinge of doubt began to creep into his mind, whispering thoughts of despair in his ear. Would Daniel really be able to help rescue his friends?

Ferretti led their group to a grove of trees not far from the palace walls, then assigned them into teams to walk the perimeter and study the building for weaknesses. After half an hour of examining every aspect of the palace, the team met back together again in the grove to go over what they had found.

"Options?" Ferretti asked, glancing around at the intent faces of his team.

"Doesn't look good, sir," Larson spoke up. "The palace is pretty tightly sealed up, and with all the guards it's going to take a miracle to get past all of them and to SG-1."

"Maybe not a miracle," Daniel commented in a far away tone. "Maybe just some ingenuity."

"What've you got, Daniel?" Ferretti asked.

Daniel glanced up at Ferretti, then looked around at the faces of SG-2, Teal'c, Preston, and Andrews. "A palace like this should have some small entrances for slaves to come and go about their business. No one would ever think to use them because, well, they're for the slaves. Now, an all-out assault on the Jaffa is just going to get everyone killed, but if we can sneak inside disguised as some of those slaves, we might be able to get close enough to Jack and the others without running into too many problems."

"You can't be serious," Preston blurted out. "Infiltrate the enemy? Jackson, they speak Goa'uld. How are we supposed to successfully pass ourselves off as one of them if none of us can even understand them? Thanks for the idea, but maybe you should leave the planning to the people who actually know what they're doing before you get us all killed."

Daniel's mouth dropped open in shock at the blatant criticism, and he ducked his head, biting back the anger he felt rising in his chest. Before anyone could say anything, Teal'c grabbed Preston by the front of his shirt and pulled him to within an inch of his steely gaze.

"Lieutenant Preston, if this is the sort of support you wish to offer this team, then you would be wise to keep your counsel to yourself," the Jaffa rumbled.

"It's suicide!" Andrews argued. "Phil's right; none of us speak the language. Just Teal'c, and they all know him. We need a better plan."

"I speak Goa'uld."

All eyes turned to Daniel at his quiet utterance. Daniel looked up, steeling himself as he met Andrews' disbelieving eyes. "I speak Goa'uld," he repeated. "I can blend in as a slave. I'll get inside and find Jack, Sam, and Sloane. I can get them out; all you guys will have to do is be the distraction."

"That's insane!" Andrews sputtered. "Are you seriously suggesting that we put the lives of our teammates, of our friends, in the hands of a civilian? Jackson, if you want to play at being a hero, why don't you do it when lives aren't on the line."

"Captain Andrews, shut up," Ferretti barked. "That goes for you too, Preston. If you don't have something productive to contribute, then I don't want to hear it." He turned and faced Daniel. "Daniel, it's a good plan, but you know Jack's gonna have my head on a platter just for bringing you this far, don't you?"

Daniel smiled faintly. "Well, if you're already dead meat, a little further can't hurt, can it?"

Ferretti shook his head. "All right, how do you want to play this?"

***

Daniel ducked his head lower, hiding his face in the folds of the cloak they had 'liberated' from a slave who had just stepped out to dispose of some waste. His heart fluttered nervously in his chest, but he steeled his resolve. Jack and Sam-and Sloane- needed his help, and he would be there for them to give it. He wouldn't let them down.

Moving about the palace was even easier than Daniel had anticipated. None of the other slaves or the guards gave him a second glance. Everyone was too busy going about their business to notice as Daniel wandered around the corridors, learning more of his surroundings.

One turn brought Daniel into a bustling kitchen. He tried to withdraw before he was spotted, but a hand reached out and clamped down on his arm, drawing him further into the room.

"You!" an older, matronly woman boomed as she dragged Daniel over to a counter. "I need help delivering food to our lord in the great hall. " She shoved a basket of fruit into Daniel's arms, turned him around, then shoved him back toward the door. "Go on, now! The master's waiting, and you know he doesn't like that!"

Daniel stumbled slightly on the hem of his robe as he hurried out of the kitchen, clutching the basket tightly to his chest. He stayed with the line of people leaving the kitchen for awhile, then turned down a side hall when he was sure no one was looking.

"Daniel?"

Daniel gave a slight start at Ferretti's soft voice crackling in his ear. "L-Lou?"

"Everything all right?" Ferretti asked.

"Yeah," Daniel replied. "I haven't made it to the dungeons yet. Is everyone else in place?"

"Just waiting for your signal, Doc," Ferretti assured him. "You've got the hard job. Hey, promise me you'll put in a good word for me with Jack and General Hammond? I have a feeling I'm gonna be blacklisted by both of them for letting you do this."

Daniel allowed a smile to sneak out. "I'll try, Lou, but my name will probably be above yours on that list for actually doing this."

"In that case, you better come out of this in one piece so I can use you as a shield for their anger," Ferretti replied. "Don't forget about us out here; we've got your six. Ferretti out."

Daniel took a deep breath and continued walking, calmer and more confident from his brief talk with Ferretti. His mind cleared of all but his goal, he went back to his search with a renewed determination.

It was another fifteen minutes before he finally found his way to the dungeons. Two Jaffa were standing at the entrance, barring anyone from coming or going. Hunching his shoulders, Daniel walked up to them.

"What do you want, slave?" one of the Jaffa demanded.

Daniel kept his head ducked down. "I-I was sent to bring you some food," he stammered in Goa'uld, his nervousness not entirely an act.

"A special treat from the kitchens today," the second Jaffa stated, looking at the basket. "Why would the cook send Lanta berries? These belong on the master's table."

Daniel felt his heart thump in his chest. "I-I just do as ordered. I'll just return these to the kitchen and let the cook know-."

A large hand seized his arm and squeezed tightly. "You will leave the basket here with us, slave, and you will go. Now," the first Jaffa hissed.

Daniel nodded. "Yes, of course."

The hand squeezed even tighter, then released him. Daniel staggered back, the basket torn from his grasp by the guards eager for the berries. Daniel crept back into the shadows, then skirted around them and into the dungeon.

Cells lined both sides of the corridor, some filled and some empty. Daniel moved quickly and quietly down the hall, searching each room for a familiar face. Just when he felt as though he had failed, he spotted a flash of blond hair out of the corner of his eye. Drawing closer to the last cell on the left, Daniel took a closer look.

The cell was dim, but Daniel could just make out a couple of cots folded down from the walls. On one of them lay an indistinguishable lump. On the other was Sam, sitting up and leaning against the wall with her eyes closed. There was a faint movement near the back of the cell, but it was too dark for Daniel to see what it was. He turned his attention back to his obviously weary friend.

"Sam?"

The blond head popped up from where it rested against the wall, stunned blue eyes snapping over to him. "Daniel?" Sam asked, incredulous. "Daniel, my god, is that you?"

The movement at the back of the cell paused, then began to draw closer, catching Daniel's attention. It was Jack. "Daniel? What the hell are you doing here?"

"Good to see you, too, Jack," Daniel replied. He took in his friends' appearances. Jack and Sam's uniforms were torn and filthy. Blood caked an old wound on Sam's forehead and Jack walked with a limp, but other than that they looked all right. "Teal'c and SG-2 are outside right now. We're going to get you out. Where's Sloane?"

A scowl darkened Jack's face. He moved over to the lump Daniel had seen on the other cot and gave it a rough shove. "Sloane!" he hissed. "Sloane! Get up!"

The lump gave a start and sat up. Sloane took in Jack and Sam's looks of disgust, then glanced over at Daniel. "What's going on?"

"We're getting out of here is what's going on," Jack told him, hauling him onto his feet. "Shut up and pay attention."

Daniel studied the walls on either side of the cell. "I assume it's an energy field again, right?"

"Good old predictable Goa'uld," Jack replied lightly. "Can you get us out?"

Daniel moved to one side, fingering a couple symbols on what looked like a control panel. "Uh . . . let's see . . ." He pressed a couple symbols. "Try that."

Jack reached out, only to be zapped by the crackle of the electric field. "Aack! Nope, not it."

Daniel winced and pressed another combination. "How about now?"

Another crackle. "Dammit!"

"Guess not."

Sloane shook his head, disgust on his face. "This is a waste of time! While you're busy figuring out how to open the damn door, those guards can come in and finish us all off! Why the hell did General Hammond send you to try and help us?"

Daniel ignored him. "All right, Jack, I think I have it. Try it now."

Jack swept a hand out, encountering no resistance. With a soft cry of triumph, he passed over the threshold of the cell and over to Daniel, greeting the younger man with a slap on the back. "Way to go, spacemonkey. Which direction is Lou?"

Daniel pointed the way he'd come. "There's two guards just outside the door. I figured, with you, we could overpower them and take their uniforms, then sneak out the way I snuck in."

"You figure, huh?" Jack echoed, a hint of amusement in his tone. "Got any weapons for us?"

"Oh!" Daniel dug around in the folds of his robes and produced a P-90 and two Berettas. "Sorry; here you go."

Jack claimed the P-90, sighing with relief once he felt the familiar weight of the gun settle in his arms. "Now we're talking. Carter, take point. Let's get the hell out of here."