Chapter 7: Trouble, Capital T.

A Flash of movement out of the corner of O'Neill's eye made him turn around in time to see Zats raising in the hands of the RoyalSG team, 'Oh shit…'

"Cover!" he shouted, diving out the cell door as the Zats began spitting their bolts of energy, Carter and Teal'c falling as if pole axed.

Major Penhall dropped to the floor and glanced around the bottom of the cell door, quickly ducking back behind cover, cursing.

"Pierce has a hand device, the rest of the team appear to be nishta'd"

"Zats everyone, Pierson break out your blade!"

Adam Pierson cursed silently as he hefted the heavy modern blade he used for off-world missions, curse SG-5 for visiting just when he and the Highlander were sparring! Now he had a reputation as being an exceptional swordsman, and as well as being required for his linguistic ability, he was expected to dice and slice system lords with personal shields too. Damn Boy scouts, least he could leave his Ivanhoe back at base, he didn't want to lose that off-world, oh yeah, and at least they hadn't figured out he was immortal. That would, as the modern generation put it, suck.

"Quickly people! That clomping you here is far too many Jaffa heading our way for my liking"

Pierce stepped through the doorway and Methos attacked, swinging his sword deftly at the former Colonel. The Goa'uld ducked, and attempted to grab the blade with his hand; Methos quickly shifted the blade and swung again as the rest of RSG-1 poured through the cell doors, quickly falling to Zat fire.

The clomping of the approaching Jaffa hoard grew louder as the fight between Methos and Pierce continued, O'Neill and Reynolds standing with knives at hand, waiting for a clear shot.

"SG teams this is SG-3" the words blared through the radios, chilling the SG team-members to the bone "Our position overrun, engaged by 70+ Unas, am escaping through the gate, Good Luck! SG-3 Out"

Pierce laughed, breaking off from the fight with Pierson as Jaffa poured into the area, surrounding the SG teams with overwhelming numbers.

"You cannot win! Surrender now and you will live long lives in service to your god, very long lives in fact; I have several servants in need of new hosts"

O'Neill cursed as he looked over at the Jaffa surrounding him, there were far too many of them, and they appeared to be led by lesser Goa'ulds too, all of whom had their shields up. This was not good.