Washington, DC
August 13, 1997

It had been over a week since Jack had taken Daniel and Teal'c with him to P3X-425 to retrieve Captain Carter's dead body. The General had pulled SG-1 from the mission roster after their hectic schedule and the fallout of what happened to Carter. Daniel was struggling with it because the situation brought back memories of what happened to Sha're and Skaara. Jack had tried to help him but Daniel had wanted some time to himself, so Jack had kept busy with keeping an eye on his team, doing his meetings with Hammond and regular duties as the base's 2IC.

He'd also had the dubious honor of welcoming the OSI agents and keeping them as informed as possible with their limited clearance. He had a feeling the investigation wasn't going so well, although he had been debriefed about his findings on P3X-425 and suspicions of Grieves by the two special agents twice and he knew they had gone over some of his – redacted – mission reports as well.

Anyway, by the end of the week he'd been itching to go through the 'gate if only to shoot a bunch of angry Jaffa. Instead, Hammond had sent him to Washington DC again to brief their superiors on the Carter case in person and while he'd been there he'd voiced his suspicions about Grieves as well – it just didn't sit right with him that the guy was still commanding SG-7, even if they were on downtime since the 'incident'.

Unfortunately, the meetings hadn't had the desired effect and the whole trip to DC had only been made worse by Jack's irrational hopes of running into Sam again. In spite of the craziness going on at the SGC he hadn't forgotten about the woman he'd spent the night with during his previous visit to the Pentagon. Of course, without a last name, phone number or address it was pretty much impossible to track someone down, although he had gone back to the bar where they'd met in the vain hope of running into her again. Apparently, it wasn't meant to be and he wished he'd asked her more personal questions before they said their goodbyes.

The only good thing that had come from his most recent visit to the capital was meeting up with Doctor Catherine Langford. "It's good to see you again, Catherine."

"You too, Jack," she said, giving him a warm hug. "I just wish it was under different circumstances."

He nodded in reply and steered her into the direction of the plane waiting for them. For once, it wasn't a military hop or a commercial flight. No, a private plane had been arranged so he could brief Catherine on their way to Colorado Springs. "I didn't think I'd be seeing you anytime soon, considering your retirement."

"Oh, how could I have possibly stayed retired after learning about the SGC?" She said, smiling at him as they walked out on the tarmac. "No, I've been consulting for the Xenophysics department at the Pentagon since our little trip to Heliopolis."

Jack raised a brow in surprise; he'd expected her to embrace life with her long lost fiancé after they rescued him from that planet. "What about Ernest?"

"He was stranded on a different planet for fifty years, with no one but his own hallucinations to keep him company," she said. "I still cannot believe he's been returned to me after all this time but, bless his heart, he has trouble adjusting to life here."

"It has only been, what, a month or so?"

Catherine nodded, holding his arm tightly as the wind picked up. "Yes. Doctor MacKenzie from the SGC has been trying to help him, but I'm afraid we're all out of our depth here. Anyway, my Ernest is making progress but he requires some alone time every now and then."

"And that's where your part-time job comes in?"

"Yes. It keeps me busy and my mind young," she chuckled softly.

Jack smiled at her spirit when they reached the plane and saluted the airman waiting for them. He briefly wondered if she'd known the young Captain-Doctor Carter as he watched her climb the stairs for the plane. How many people would be working at the Xenophysics department?

"Sir?"

Startled from his thoughts, he nodded to the airman. "It's just me and Doctor Langford, airman. Let's make sure we get her to Colorado safely."

"Yes, Sir."

When he joined Catherine inside she was already sitting near the window, staring outside. Gone was her good mood. "What can you tell me about the fate of Captain Carter, Jack?"

He grimaced, sitting down opposite her. "You knew her?"

"She was on my team until she got transferred to the SGC and I'd like to think I knew her quite well. Such an inspiring and driven young woman," Catherine said, nostalgia coloring her tone. "You'd have liked her."

"You know I'm not a big fan of scientists, aside from you and Daniel," he said. "From what he and Hammond have told me, she was very accomplished in her field."

Catherine scoffed at that and fastened her seatbelt. "She worked at the Giza Project for two years and created the dialing computer. Calling her a pioneer in the field of Xenyphysics wouldn't be an exaggeration. She had an affinity with the stargate and alien technology that I have yet to see in anyone else."

"Not even yourself?"

"Oh, I've had my moments," she said, chuckling, "but she was the foremost expert on the stargate."

Jack shifted uncomfortably in his seat as they started taxiing. "We don't know what happened, exactly. There's a good chance a Goa'uld, Apophis, captured her on her first mission and that's why we need your expertise."

Catherine nodded in understanding. "You're afraid this Apophis will learn how to disable the iris she created."

"Is it true she wrote the protocols for the dialing computer?"

"Yes, she was quite talented."

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't need to tell you what that means."

"General Hammond told me he needs me to rewrite everything but I don't know if I can, Jack."

"You do what you can, Catherine."

Stargate Command
Colorado Springs, Colorado

The flight to Colorado hadn't taken long, mostly because Catherine filled him in about her work at the Pentagon and how Ernest was adjusting to life back home. As soon as they arrived at the SGC Catherine was greeted warmly by the personnel who'd met her before and then she went straight to work in the control room, working side by side with the technicians.

Jack knew it did Daniel in particular a lot of good to see Catherine again and to be able to talk to her about their mutual friend. He just wished he could give Catherine and Daniel some answers about what had happened to Carter, but from the looks of it, it would take at least a few more weeks for the OSI to complete their investigation and even then they had no idea where the Captain might be.

The lack of a memorial service also added to the ambiguous feelings, both about her possible treason and status. Last he'd heard, Hammond's superiors were inclined to declare Captain Carter killed in action, if only to close the investigation and be able to give her next-of-kin a straight answer. With their deep space radar telemetry cover it was already going to be difficult to explain her death – training exercise seemed to be the preferred cause – let alone that she'd somehow gone missing during a mission only to eventually end up dead. That was simply too tricky, especially when one of the relatives was an Air Force major general himself.

At the moment, all they could do was to keep their eyes and ears open off-world in the hopes of hearing something about a captured Tau'ri woman, but for all they knew Captain Carter was already dead. It was a bitter pill to swallow, especially considering her contributions to the Program even if most of them were behind the scenes. If it hadn't been for Carter there wouldn't have been a 'gate to travel through, or at least not a dialing computer to operate it, according to Catherine. The older woman had openly admitted that she herself or other scientists she knew had been incapable of creating the hundreds of safety protocols and feedback signals needed in the program. However, working closely with the Captain-Doctor over the past few years she had become familiar with the younger woman's thinking patterns and coding, and after studying the dialing computer in person she was confident she would be able to make the needed changes to prevent anyone from accessing it or the iris' control system through an open wormhole. It would just take time to upgrade everything.

Fortunately, the brass had decided that normal operations would continue while Catherine did her thing and thus SG-1 had gone to P3X-7763 – or Tollan as they'd later learned – four days ago, once they had gone back onto the mission rotation. Although, in retrospect, Jack would have preferred another team had dealt with the arrogant and supposedly highly superior Tollans who had basically ruined their own planet and the last batch of them had been dying in the vicinity of their Stargate while volcanoes were erupting all around them. The ten survivors were brought back to Earth but the aliens had been less than cooperative to say the least, although Narim had been nice enough, probably because he and Daniel had gotten along great.

It had been Catherine though, who had somehow managed to charm the highly suspicious and brusque Omoc, the leader of the refugees, and eventually the man had agreed to use their highly advanced technology to contact the Nox, requesting their help to be relocated to their new home planet. Afterwards, SG-1 and Catherine had debriefed General Hammond on the details of their plan and its execution, but now Jack's mind was already on his team's upcoming mission to P4A-771, a planet in a solar system that was part of Apophis' domain. He had briefly checked out the data the MALP had collected after they'd sent it through two hours ago, but there hadn't been any sign of Jaffa or recent activity near the 'gate. Although hesitant to send them into possible enemy territory, Hammond had approved the mission provided that the MALP's readings wouldn't change drastically over the next few days.

Daniel had seemed pretty excited about the new mission but Jack suspected it was because the planet was in the domain of Apophis and the archaeologist was probably hoping they would learn something about Sha're, Skaara or perhaps even his missing Captain-Doctor friend. He knew the latter was true for himself and while he hadn't given up on finding the abducted Abydonians, he was afraid it would prove difficult to find and retrieve them if they'd both been snaked by Apophis, especially in light of what happened to Kawalsky when he got a snake in his head and the destruction of Thor's Hammer. Hopefully, they would be able to contact Thor's race once they got Sha're and Skaara back, but there were no guarantees.

However, the Captain-Doctor was probably still being held in a cell for interrogation according to Teal'c and while she might be undergoing some horrible things, they probably paled in comparison to getting snaked. They had to hurry though because it was unlikely Apophis would keep her alive once she had served her purpose or wouldn't give him anything. It had been ten days since she was captured and the Goa'uld weren't exactly a patient race, but they were known for their ruthlessness: Carter probably didn't have much longer.

Goa'uld Compound
Location Unknown

It felt like it had been months since Sam had stepped through the Stargate for the first time but realistically she knew it couldn't have been that long. Perhaps a week or two at most, she guessed. Her sense of time was completely screwed up due to being kept in the darkened cell all this time and without any exposure to natural light her circadian rhythm was way off, too.

Bra'tac's irregular visits didn't help either, because he never seemed to show up at set times and it felt like sometimes he'd drop by several times in one day while he only came once on other days. The Jaffa guarding her cell didn't seem to have a normal schedule either but it was possible that it was simply down to her perception and being unable to tell how much time passed between changing of the guards.

Moac, the Jaffa she had sort of befriended, wasn't very talkative let alone forthcoming with answers to her questions but he had continued supplying her with water and food at least once a day in the morning – or so she assumed, it was difficult to tell. On one hand, Sam was surprised that Bra'tac hadn't commented on the jug and bowl his underling had given her when he hadn't been around because she knew the First Prime had seen it and could have sworn he'd uttered a characteristic 'hm' upon discovery. On the other hand, it made sense for him to approve because without water she would have been dead already – or perhaps it was by Bra'tac's order and Moac was playing the part of the good cop, trying to gain her trust while making it appear as if he went behind his commander's back. Or maybe she was becoming paranoid…

The only evidence she really had to prove to herself that no more than two weeks could have passed since her capture was her own body; the injury left from a bullet grazing her side appeared to be healing well, although the wound in her shoulder had gotten worse. Sam was concerned it would get infected if it wasn't already – she was too afraid to remove the bandage and take a look at the stitched up skin. Still, if her guesstimate was correct then she would have to remove the stitches soon and clean the injury properly.

Thanks to the water and food Moac provided she had gotten slightly stronger or at least less dehydrated and light-headed, which had allowed her to move around a bit more and a few days ago she had finally gotten back onto the stone slab on her own strength. All the movement and perspiration had loosened the tape on her abdomen though, and it had more or less forced Sam to remove the bandage covering her side. Fortunately, the skin looked good considering the circumstances and she had started cleaning the graze too whenever she washed herself as best she could with the small amount of water she could spare every other jug.

Still, Sam was concerned: one bowl of goop wasn't enough to keep her stomach from rumbling and the jug of water a day was barely enough to keep her hydrated. She knew her ribs and hips were protruding more now than before she'd left Earth and her normally taut abdomen was starting to become concaved. Strangely enough, Bra'tac hadn't resorted to actual torture unlike what she had expected the moment she regained consciousness in the cell so at least she didn't have to endure additional injuries aside from the occasional slap or backhand.

Speak of the devil, she thought as she looked up and saw Bra'tac coming up the corridor and having a hushed exchange with her guard. Moac was with Bra'tac, which was a bit unusual, since the younger Jaffa was usually the one taking over guarding duty from whoever Bra'tac left in charge after one of his visits. The current guard was dismissed with a curt "shal kek" and it was only when he was out of sight and his footsteps fading that Bra'tac opened the cell door. With a very human-like gesture he indicated for the younger Jaffa to precede him and that's when she realized he was carrying something.

"You brought me something?" Sam had meant it as a statement but it came out more of a question in her croaking voice.

Bra'tac closed the cell door behind him and waited for Moac to place the tray next to her on the stone slab before he spoke. "Food and water."

Suppressing the urge to reach for the bowl with some unappetizing-looking goop in it to gobble it down, she eyed the two Jaffa wondering what the catch was; Moac had already brought her a jug of water a few hours earlier and this was the first time she'd gotten food today. "Why?"

"First you plead for food and water and now that you are given it you are questioning it? You should be more grateful, human," Bra'tac replied, huffing.

"Well, forgive me for being suspicious," Sam said.

Narrowing his eyes at her Bra'tac shook his head in disapproval. "You ask too many questions. Eat."

Moac glanced between the two of them before he spoke up. "The alkesh has arrived to take us to Apophis and Klorel."

"Rin nok!" Bra'tac glared at his protégé until the younger Jaffa lowered his head and then he turned to her. "Apophis wishes to behold his Tau'ri prize and learn your secrets."

"'Alkesh'?" She questioned, ignoring the First Prime's words.

Upon receiving a reluctant nod from Bra'tac, Moac explained. "A vessel capable of traveling in hyperspace equipped with weaponry and cloaking abilities to bring the harvest safely to our Gods."

"How long until we get there?" Over the past few days Sam had come to the disturbing realization that they meant captured humans – much like herself – and not crops when speaking of the harvest. Apparently, the Goa'uld saw them as no more than Brussels sprouts and considering the 'harvesting' had been going on before she even got here, a lot of planets must have been visited to get as broad a sample as possible. So far, she hadn't seen or heard any signs of other humans being in this prison as well but it was possible they were in a different corridor or even another compound and it made her wonder why they had been separated. Even if the Jaffa had only taken one person on every raid for at least two weeks they would still need fourteen cells if everyone got their own. Unless they had put her here because she was injured or possibly due to her ties with the SGC – maybe the other humans would become hosts and they simply wanted her for information?

"The duration is unimportant. You must gain strength or be dragged to the alkesh by your hair, woman," Bra'tac said, indicating the food with his hand.

The hunger pangs had stopped earlier today but she knew she needed the nutrients even if the goop didn't look at all appealing. The texture was awful but the taste was okay. Ignoring the two Jaffa's eyes on her she gobbled it all down, constantly trying to remind herself not to overdo it or it would undoubtedly come up again but the bowl was empty before she knew it. "This ship," Sam said in between licking her fingers clean of the food, "is it outside? I mean, do I have to go outside to get aboard?"

Both Jaffa looked at her askance but eventually Moac nodded. "Indeed."

She idly wondered if she would be able to see the sun and feel it warm her skin when she'd be transferred to the ship because most of the time she still felt chilled to the bone, in spite of using her jacket as a blanket. "Is it far?"

"It matters not," Moac said.

"But it does," she argued as she sat up. "I don't know what the weather and climate outside are like but by changing the venue my wounds could easily get infected in my current condition." When neither of them said anything in response, she sighed. "Look, I'm guessing it'll take at least a few days to reach Apophis by ship and my shoulder might already be infected, so I'd die before you can present me to your Gods."

Bra'tac surprised her with his appraising glance and next words. "What do you propose, hm?"

Sam wasn't sure how to interpret his… willingness, for lack of a better word, to help her because so far he had treated her relatively well in spite of his threats and threatening behavior. Not to mention that most of his questions were about her original mission, like why they had chosen that planet, what had been their purpose, where were her teammates, why had she been alone when she was found? Most of the time she ignored them although sometimes she was forced to give an answer yet it had been nothing of consequence, really. After all the reports she had read about the Goa'uld and Jaffa in general and their ruthlessness in particular she had expected more violence and queries about the iris, SGC and Earth. Perhaps Bra'tac was merely limited in his actions because he had to wait for orders from his god, or something.

"My shoulder might be infected," she said, "and without proper medical treatment that could kill me in this weakened state. However, merely cleaning the wound could help a great deal. So far, I've made do with some small amounts of water but if I have to remove the stitches and clean the bandages then I'll need boiled water, unless you can get me antibiotics and a disinfecting agent. I don't suppose your men took my med kit with them when they abducted me?"

"They did not."

Moac spoke up at the same time as his commander. "Why not use this water?"

"It needs to be boiled to kill all forms of bacteria to prevent further infection," she explained. Upon seeing their confused faces, Sam was once again reminded they were aliens who carried symbiotes in their pouches to act as their immune system and give them a long and healthy life. "Just boil it. Uh, heat it until it starts to boil." She used her fingers to imitate bubbles rising to the surface and was relieved when Moac finally seemed to understand. Sometimes it was easy to forget they weren't from the same planet and had a language and culture of their own. "And I'll need a clean cloth or a piece of some kind of fabric too, to clean and perhaps bandage it."

Bra'tac muttered some instructions to Moac who left immediately to presumably get her what she had asked for, before giving her his full attention. "Doing this will aid your recovery, hm?"

"Yes, by cleaning the wound and the surrounding tissue I can hopefully keep infections at bay, although I don't know how long it will work considering the extent of my injuries and the lack of medication. Unlike you, we don't have symbiotes to heal us and have to rely on medical treatment and our body's own immune system and healing capabilities," Sam explained with a small smile.

"You are weak," he stated, looking pointedly at her shoulder.

She shrugged with her healthy shoulder, too tired to get into an argument again. Besides, this was the umpteenth time he had called her weak. "Compared to a Jaffa maybe, but at least we don't have to rely on a Goa'uld symbiote to stay alive. I heard your kind can become almost twice as old as us but considering your line of work and the attitude of the Goa'uld towards you – their foot soldiers – you rarely reach that age. You're far more likely to die as a young warrior in a war between supposed gods, or even at the hand of your fellow Jaffa or the God you serve."

Bra'tac's only response was a slight narrowing of his eyes and before either of them could say anything else, Moac entered the corridor carrying another tray. The First Prime opened the cell door for him and followed him back to the stone slab where she was sitting.

"Mu em setch't," Moac said, smiling slightly. "Water with fire in it."

"Thank you," Sam said as she removed the lid from the pot to reveal the boiled and steaming water. There were two pieces of white fabric not dissimilar to her bandages lying next to it. Fortunately, there was also a ladle so she used it to soak and retrieve one of the cloths. With her right hand she started removing the bandage on her left shoulder as she waited for the cloth to cool off. Not unaware of the Jaffa's eyes on her, Sam placed the used bandage – with some speckles of blood on it – in her lap before reaching for the soaked cloth. The low temperature in the cell meant it had already cooled down enough for her to grab and wring the excess water from it. She kept it to her side and above the stone slab rather than risk the water falling into the pot before she'd had a chance to clean her hands and wounds.

"This will prevent you from getting ill?" Moac asked after she lifted her top a bit and started cleaning the graze on her side.

She nodded as she wiped the surrounding skin with the cloth. "Yes. By cleaning the wounds I can hopefully prevent harmful microorganism from entering my bloodstream which should reduce the risk of infection." It took her longer to clean the gunshot wound in her shoulder and by looking at the incision site, she decided it was time to remove the stitches as well. That took a bit more effort without a handy pair of scissors but she knew this was most likely her last chance to do so. Soon she would be loaded onto a spaceship where there was probably limited room for the prisoners – or 'harvest' – and she doubted Apophis would kindly allow her the time to disinfect her wound and remove the stitches when she was brought before him.

After she had finished cleaning and applying the bandages, they took the remains of the boiled water with them and left her to her own devices. Sam was mildly surprised they hadn't left a guard with her but it wasn't like she could open the cell door – heck, after treating her injuries she hardly had the energy to get up let alone break out – and she took the opportunity to use the facilities without feeling like she was being watched.

It was a few hours – or so she guessed – and a catnap later that Moac and two other unfamiliar Jaffa came to her cell to 'escort' her to the ship. Moac didn't say anything as he grabbed her by the arm and helped the guy on her right side to drag her in the correct direction, but his grip was looser. She was grateful for it because using her left arm or shoulder still caused her excruciating pain and by now Sam was pretty sure she had damaged some nerves from removing the bullet from her shoulder.

They walked through a dozen or so corridors before they reached the exit of the compound and she realized that even if she had somehow managed to muster up enough energy to escape her cell she never would have found her way through this maze. Knowing that no matter what she'd done she still would have ended up back in her cell reassured her somewhat – it made her feel less of a failure. The daylight coming through the open door was an assault on her eyes after so many days in darkness and she was forced to close her eyes and turn her head away because she couldn't shield her eyes with her hands. The pulling and dragging was even more disorientating by her closed eyes so she opened them experimentally upon feeling the sun warming her face.

Blinking rapidly, her eyes slowly adjusted to the light although her head was pounding. She ignored the pain and scanned her surroundings, surprised to see people being herded into a circle a few feet away but no sign of a spaceship… until a strange wooshing sound broke through the silence and metal rings appeared from nowhere to encircle the group of captives in front of her. There was a brief flash of light before the people were gone and the rings moved up.

Sam's gaze followed it all the way to an impressive ship hovering hundreds of meters above them! It was grey-silver of color, pretty big and shaped somewhat into a pyramid, with a length of at least thirty to forty meters as far as she could tell. The height was difficult to determine from this angle but Sam estimated it was probably five stories high. Before she could take in more details Moac pulled her with him while the other guy released her right arm, and then she was standing in the grass with about a dozen other people when the metal rings descended again. She felt a sense of dread in the pit of her stomach and for a moment, she was afraid the only food she'd had in weeks was about to make a reappearance when Moac squeezed her arm gently and the rings surrounded them.