There was one advantage of being who he was, Jack knew. That was that he was one of only a very small number of people – count that as three – who had instant communication with a race of aliens that 99.9999 percent of the people on Earth didn't even know existed. It wasn't something he used all that often – but it was definitely something he was using now. After a hurried discussion with Hammond and Jacob, he went to his office pulled a device from the top drawer and pressed the button on it.

Then he headed for the Gate room, knowing that Thor would either beam himself down, or beam Jack up – and if he beamed Jack up it didn't matter where on the base he was, but if he beamed down, Jack knew Thor would go to the Gate room first.

OOOOOOOOO

The Gateship was exactly as Ian had remembered seeing. As he helped Sam up the ramp, taking more and more of her weight as they went – which concerned him, since she seemed to be having trouble walking, even – the lights came on in the cargo area.

When he'd first been on the Gateship with Alexander and Dotty from the alternate dimension, he hadn't understood why the lights had been automatic, but that was before the download, and even though he hadn't known it until he actually walked onto the ship and had the memory triggered, he now knew that it was reacting to his presence. The ship itself was tuned to him. And wouldn't do anything for anyone else around him. The Ancients hadn't wanted anyone but themselves to be able to use their technology – and that included the Goa'uld.

If Ian had his way, the fucking thing wouldn't even turn the lights on unless Cato was off it. But there was only so much he could ask for, apparently, because the Goa'uld was right behind them when they entered the ship, and he saw the lights come on and made a pleased noise that made Ian want to puke in disgust.

"How did you do that?" Cato asked.

Ian ignored him and helped Sam up to the front of the ship, putting her in the copilot's seat after turning it so she would fit more comfortably.

"Are you all right?" He asked her, more worried now that he could see her up close. She looked scared, and was trying to hide it – and Ian didn't think it was because of Cato or the Jaffa.

She nodded, looking behind him – which was all the warning he had before Cato put his hand on Ian's shoulder and pulled him away from Sam.

"Get your fucking hands off me."

"How did you do that?" Cato asked, looking at Sam.

She shook her head, wincing as another sharp pain lanced through her back.

"I didn't…"

The system lord drew his hand back.

"You lie!"

But the blow didn't land. Ian had reached out and caught his hand in mid-strike, and even though the Goa'uld was far more powerful than he was, the cadet had the advantage of leverage – coming from behind as he had – and surprise.

"You touch her again, and I'll kill you, you mother fucker."

Cato roared in disbelief, and swung at Ian with the other hand, but Ian ducked under it, and stepped down hard on the Goa'uld's instep, the heel of his boot making contact hard enough to elicit another roar – this one fury and pain combined – and Ian pushed him away, stepping between Cato and Sam and holding up his hand.

"You hurt her and you're never going to get this thing running, shit for brains." He said before the Goa'uld – or the two Jaffa that had coming running at the shouts – could attack him. "It's not going to work for you. Ever. Only Sam."

There was a dizzying wave of expressions crossing the Goa'uld's face, from anger, to disbelief and fury, to suspicion and then to anger again, but he didn't attack Ian, and he looked at Sam in disbelief.

"Why her?"

"Because the Ancients didn't like snakes anymore than the rest of us," Ian said, ignoring the aching in his head and meeting Cato's furious stare with his own. "They integrated their ships – and all their technology – with lockdowns that would prevent them falling into the wrong hands. You understand what integrate means?"

"I'm not stupid."

"Then you'll know that because it's integrated, even if you take the shit apart and put it together again, it still won't work for you. It won't work for any Goa'uld – or Tok'ra. Only Sam."

"And you."

Ian shook his head.

"You have to have the right gene sequence. You have to be born with it. Otherwise it locks you out. I can show her what to do, but the ship won't run for me. Which means if you hurt her, you're fucked. And all your plans for world domination go down the shitter."

The Goa'uld wasn't sure about Ian's choice of language – half of what he was saying, he didn't understand – but he was getting the gist of it, and it was obvious from the expression of impotent fury that he didn't like what he was hearing.

"Make it work."

"She can't do anything," Ian said, looking over his shoulder at Sam for just a moment, and then back at Cato. "Look at her; whatever your thing did to knock her out, it's messing with her way worse than it did me. If she can't focus, I can't tell her what to do. She needs a chance to rest – and a-"

"I want this ship to work for me!"

"Then you're going to have to fucking wait."

He looked like he wanted to hit him; Ian knew. But he also had to take in consideration that Ian might be telling the truth, and that if he hurt either of them – Sam especially – he had just screwed himself royally. It was what Ian was counting on, because he had to protect Sam as well as he could – even though he'd lied through his teeth. Sam wasn't the one the ship was reacting to, although there was a possibility Ian thought briefly, that the ship might be reacting to her unborn son – if he held that gene. For someone who was a shitty liar - like he was - the Goa'uld certainly seemed to be buying it.

As soon as he was certain that he wasn't going to get hit, he continued.

"You're putting pressure on her while she's already stressed, and it's going to make her sick. And before you say you don't care, you'd better think again, because she's all you have, and if she gets sick, you're stuck with just me – and while I can read the shit, I don't know what to make of it."

That vein was really sticking out, now. Ian could actually see it throbbing. Ole Cato was about as angry as he'd ever been, and was in a corner he had no way of getting out of – without putting to ruin a plan that had taken him months of planning to enact. Ian met his angry glare as he visibly made up his mind, and then Cato stepped back a couple of paces, giving Ian and Sam both breathing room.

"Fine. She can rest. But not for long."

"And something to drink."

"Fine."

He had already ordered that.

"And a blanket."

He was going to say something – Ian could see it – but the Goa'uld looked over at Sam and thought he might have seen her tremble. She certainly seemed to be having trouble focusing on anything – although Ian knew she was concentrating on something internal and not what was going on around her. Which made him more worried.

"Fine."