Author's Note: I got Part 2 up on time for once. Yay me! Part 3 of 3 should be up next Sunday or possibly the Sunday after.


Though he never would have admitted it, Ragnar felt slightly uneasy leaving the Commander and Daniel alone with only the three guards. He would have felt more comfortable if his brother had been with them, and he had known well one of the Commander's remaining guards. (Ragnar was so used to his brother's presence that Ruarc's absence made Ragnar feel like one of his limbs were missing. The two had lived and fought and slept and bled beside each other for hundreds of years, and they were as close as blood twins with an unnerving ability to speak without words.) Granted he and Vylt had overlapped during their time with the Imperial Guard, but that had only been for a short while before the two brothers had been detailed by Commander Anarr to guard Sujanha.

Ragnar ruthlessly squnched his illogical concerns and quickened his pace to a ground-eating lope. The sooner the intruders were captured, the better he would feel. The lupine Furling was strong and fast and in good condition, and he made a fair clip across the nearly mile-and-a-half of hill and fen to reach the point where the local guards were waiting for him to join them. Ragnar made sure to keep his pace fast enough to reach them quickly but not so fast as to alert even a buffoon that there was someone moving in the woods.

About fifty yards from one of the tracks through the forest, Ragnar found the waiting guards in a concealed hollow. There were twelve of them, not including Ragnar himself. The wolf scrambled as quietly as possible down the slope until he stood in front of the commander, whom he had met for the first time just a few hours before.

Jotar was the commander of the Teucuria garrison. He was a Furling (by blood, not politically), and his appearance was as one of the Azzon, the great hunters of the plains (which Ragnar thought he recalled Daniel calling generally'big cats'), and his coloring made him well-suited to stealth missions. He was an old soldier with at least five centuries more battle experience than Ragnar himself, old and cagey and smart.

"Are there any new reports about the intruders?" Ragnar asked respectfully, quietly, acknowledging the other soldier's higher military rank despite his own position as one of the Supreme Commander's bodyguards.

"They number only four. One of whom is a first prime. Another is a Goa'uld. What their purpose is here, only the Creator knows."

Ragnar frowned. That makes no sense. It is near illogical. Why would a Goa'uld travel with his first prime but only two other guards? And on an unknown world no less. The cynical side of his brain then added, Unknown we hope. Could it be a sign this world is compromised?

Jotar continued, speaking now to the whole company, "The intruders will approach our position soon. We will surround either side of the path while remaining hidden among the trees. On my signal and only on my signal will you reveal yourselves. Those on either end of the two lines will cut off the way of escape to the front and rear. If the demon attempts to fight, disabling shots only. The Commander wants prisoner."

All the soldiers nodded and saluted. "As you command" was the chorus. And then all went to their positions, one handing Ragnar a spare Furling staff weapon as he passed.

The next few minutes passed slowly. Ragnar always found the last moments before a battle or a potential conflict to pass interminably slowly. He crouched besides Jotar, but unlike the garrison commander, he had been forced to activate the cloaking device he carried. His black-and-white coloring made him much more visible in the woods in the fading season.

Ragnar could feel his senses sharpen as the moments dragged on, the humming in his bloodstream. He knew one Goa'uld and only three servants stood no chance against the greater numbers of the Furling troops, who held technological superiority, but he was always glad for a battle to be over. He held no love for war, as great a warrior as he was. He only loved that which war and weapon defended: his brother, his Commanders, his people, and his home.

The wolf heard the intruders before he saw them: the slight thump of footsteps, the barest murmur of low voices carried on the breeze.

When the intruders—four of them—finally came around a slight bend and rise in the trail—that was more of a barely traversed track—Ragnar felt his brain slow to a screeching halt for a split second in complete and utter shock. He recognized them or rather he thought he recognized three of the four from Daniel's stories about his old teammates from Midgard. Daniel had a way with words, and Ragnar had a good imagination, and he had previously formed mental images of what his friend's old teammates probably looked like.

What is SG1 doing on Teucuria? How do they know the gate address?

The four intruders, who still had not noticed the presence of the Furling troops concealed in the woods, were undoubtedly SG1 from Earth.

The Jaffa drew Ragnar's attention first. The First Prime—Teal'c, his mind supplied—was tall and broad-shouldered with skin the color of rich, fertile earth, and he carried his staff weapon as if he were heedless of its weight. He periodically scanned the path and forest intently, and his build would have made even Ragnar wary to oppose him without the protection of a personal shield.

The second male, from his age, had to be O'Neill. The hair that emerged from beneath his extremely peculiar hat was colored with age. Ragnar thought he had an interesting face. O'Neill, like Teal'c, seemed quite aware of his surroundings like an old, canny soldier.

The only woman in the group, tall and blond-haired, could only be Carter, the scientist and Daniel's close friend, with whom he shared a love of knowledge. She had temporarily been a host to a Tok'ra symbiote, which would explain why the gate guards had identified one among the intruders as being a Goa'uld.

The identity of the last figure, Ragnar did not know, as he did not match any of the descriptions Daniel had ever given of his teammates. The man was tall with a build that would have marked him out as a runner among some of the human races in Asteria. His face marked him as one of the youngest of the group, and his dark hair was cropped very short. There was no name-patch on his uniform, no identifying marks, though even if there had been, they would have been little use to Ragnar. Unlike Ruarc, who was the more linguistically inclined of the two brothers and had excelled under Daniel's tutelage, Ragnar's knowledge of spoken English was only passable and written English almost nonexistent.

Shaking himself from his bewildered surprise with a soldier's discipline, Ragnar leaned over and silently tapped Jotar on the shoulder and made two quick hand gestures. *Possible friendlies. Me lead* Jotar's returning stare was one of incredulity, but after a long pause, he slowly nodded.

Ragnar waited patiently until the intruders/newcomers were reaching the prime position for the trap to be sprung. SG1 he believed them to almost certainly be, but neither Jotar or Ragnar would countenance taking risks with the lives of their men.

Finally, Ragnar glanced across at Jotar and nodded. It is time, the look said. Using his comm on his gauntlet, Jotar sent a countdown to the other troops.

A heartbeat passed, and then Ragnar slowly began to rise from his crouch, keeping his cloak up to hide his movements. Though the great wolf brushed against no leaves nor broke any sticks under his feet, the Jaffa warrior seemed to suddenly sense something amiss and paused, his weapon rising, and scanned the tree-line on either side of the path intently. The Midgardians, if they were whom Ragnar believed them to be, immediately halted, as well, moving like an experienced cohort, scanning for danger but spotting none of the Furling warriors hidden nearby. The four exchanged a few words in tense voices, their voices only barely audible to Ragnar, but before they could do much more, Jotar gave the signal.

Moving as one unit, the Furling warriors rose with weapons' armed and emerged from the woods, quickly surrounding the four intruders and cutting off all means of escape.

The three Midgardian warriors, despite their surprise, moved immediately into defensive positions, their backs to one another. The fourth member of their group, obviously not a warrior from the way he fumbled his weapon, was pushed into the center. Ragnar allowed himself a moment's disapproval at their allowing one so unfamiliar with a weapon through their Stargate, even as the other side of his brain cataloged their visible weapons. Save for the Jaffa's staff weapon—out of date—the rest seemed to be the strange projectile weapons favored by the Midgardians—guns, Ragnar remembered Daniel called them. Ragnar could also see one or two bladed weapons, used in a style-of-fighting Ragnar was comparatively unfamiliar with.

Knowing that his personal shield would protect him even from the bladed weapons of 'SG1', if the standoff devolved into a battle, Ragnar deactivated his staff weapon and rested the butt upon the ground and leaned his weight on it casually.

"Colonel O'Neill, I presume," Ragnar began in heavily accented but still understandable English.

One of the grey-haired warrior's eyebrows rose almost to the brim of his very peculiar hat, and a range of emotions flashed across his face, going from wary to confused to calculating all in a split second.

"And you must be Akela," O'Neill replied. His head tilted, and then he continued dryly, "Or his younger brother." Ragnar did not know who or what an 'Akela' but figured such an expression must a sign of O'Neill's legendary wit, of which Daniel had spoken at length. Ragnar filed away a mental note to ask Daniel later to explain that expression.

"You are trespassing. We do not allow trespassers without permission."

O'Neill's eyes narrowed, and the woman's eyebrows shot up.

"You forgot to post signs, big-honkin-signs with red letters."

"Perhaps," Ragnar replied. He was starting to run out of Midgard-lingo he remembered from Daniel's stories, "you did not see them, or perhaps the labyrinth of paths is the sign."

Slowly, O'Neill lowered his weapon, his brow furrowed. Whether the soldier had recognized the hints Ragnar had been trying to drop in his speech to show that he knew a lot more of Midgard than one would expect or he had seen the futility of any resistance, Ragnar did not know. The Jaffa and the woman still kept their weapons raised.

"You will surrender your weapons and come with us. My commander will decide what is to be done." Technically, Anarr had jurisdiction over planet-side bases, even over Sujanha's shipyards, but Sujanha was the most senior commander on planet, and Anarr wasn't going to care if his sister dealt with the matter, instead of going to the trouble of bringing it to him.

"Colonel?" The woman—Carter?—questioned.

"We don't have a choice, Carter," O'Neill replied, "We're outnumbered at least 4 to 1."

"You will not be harmed. You have my word." Said Ragnar, as the Furling soldiers collected the weapons of the reluctantly cooperating intruders and quickly searched them.

"And I should believe you, why?" O'Neill asked sharply, turning from his subordinate back towards Ragnar, cutting a glance around the scene and at the still raised weapons of the Furling troops.

"You do not know me, but I know of you, O'Neill. We have those whom we know in common, and they have told me much of you." With a few quick words, Ragnar had the Furlings in motions, and they began the trek back toward where Sujanha, Daniel, and her guards were waiting. Daniel is in for a surprise.

"And yet this warm reception…" O'Neill countered with a sweep of his arm and a sarcastic tone to his words.

"You are still trespassers, and this is a restricted world. My commander will speak with you."