Chapter 7

One night Jack piled up the neatly folded uniforms and used them as a pillow. His teammates' tags were stowed safely in his pocket.

The next day he was taken to the audience room. It was vacant. He stood there for hours then marched back to the cell. The uniforms were gone. If they gave him any comfort Khon'du saw to it they would no longer.

O'Neill was ready to climb the walls by the time Khon'du and the troop of Jaffa arrived to take him out of the cell. It had been another week of solitude. Khon'du was angry, he felt as though he had failed his god and had failed himself. He had not broken this human. He was sure the man had been lying and kept back his secrets. And Khon'du was afraid. If he could not break this man, this intruder, had he lost his edge, his power, his self respect. He would lose face among his fellow Jaffa and worse yet lose Sop'du's trust in him. Would he be cast aside in shame and disgrace?

So Khon'du took one last chance. He offered O'Neill the chance to see his woman if he would tell him the truth of why he was in Sop'du's domain. Jack again said he was a trader looking for markets.

"Lies."

Khon'du had Jack's wrists bound. Khon'du felt as bound as this slave; he tried to only use his open hand, not his fist. Sop'du took offence to the rather messy effects of violence he did not directly sanction or do himself. With every blow Khon'du asked again "Why are you here?"

O'Neill's answer was always the same.

Khon'du, his knuckles bloodied and raw, promised to beat the human woman. "Tell me." he ordered.

Jack wanted to ask if his people were safe but thought the very questioning of their well being would put them in jeopardy.

Khon'du looked at the beaten man. "Stand up" he screamed, spittle flying from his mouth. "Answer me." His breath harsh and raspy, he realized he had totally lost control.

He told his second in command to carry on with the assigned task. Khon'du was furious that he had failed to break this man and feared his anger would cause him to kill this slave if he continued. This was not what the god wished, therefore Khon'du, who could not hold his temper, walked away.

They marched down a hallway in the opposite direction from the throne room. Was he going to the cells where the rest of his team were? Was he going off to see where they had executed them, to see their bodies? Jack's mood flitted back and forth between hope and despair.

They walked through corridors and finally out of the cell block into the open air. They walked for about half an hour to get to the other side of the village near the pyramid where he saw robed Jaffa among their families, then off to a glen. Through a stand of trees there was a pool fed by a barely flowing waterfall and emptied into a trickling stream.

"Strip and wash. Your stench and filth offends the gods." one of his guards ordered.

There were two women kneeling by the pool washing clothes and they offered Jack a cloth and a sliver of soap. He looked askance at the situation. He hesitated and the Jaffa merely charged his staff weapon. Jack shucked his uniform.

"Everything slave!"

So everything it was, except for his tags. His torso was a mass of bruises, some fading, others new. The cool water was delightful as was the chance to wash. The waterfall, meager though it was, and the sliver of soap got the job done. He wrung out the cloth and dried himself as much as he could and went to find his pile of filthy clothing. The women had taken them and were presently scrubbing them.

"Here" the Jaffa said and pointed to a length of cloth to be wrapped around to form a kilt. Jack's attempts were inept causing one of the women to giggle. When he took a step, to O'Neill's embarrassment, the tangled mess of cloth fell to the ground. Both the women laughed out loud.

"Here" the irritated Jaffa said and pointed to another set of homespun clothes "these".

Was this what happened to Carter, Daniel and Teal'c? For the first time in days he deeply felt hope, but would he see them again. Jack bent down to grab their dog tags lying on the grass where he had tossed them, as he donned the boxy pants and tunic. He would find out what happened to his team. They were still alive, he refused to believe otherwise. He'd find them and get them home.

Teal'c, he thought, had infiltrated the Jaffa of this world. Of Daniel and Carter he had no idea but maybe the path he walked down now would lead to them.

He'd find them, find them all and get them home. He had no other choice.

"Follow me." the Jaffa ordered. Jack followed him.

They walked past a field where some Jaffa were sparing and not much farther was an Alkesh and a few Tel'taks. Either he was going to be target practice for the Jaffa or he was going for a ride.

Again warring thoughts filled his mind, why clean him up and give him clean clothing if they were just going to kill him. But perhaps the light clothing was to make him an easier target.

All of a sudden the fleeting hope of seeing his teams again deserted him. They took everything from him,

his name - they called him slave if they called him anything,

his team, his friends - he had no idea where they were,

his uniform - they stripped him of the sign of his allegiance and rank.

They even stripped him of the filthy cell, a sign of what he bore for his loyalty to earth.

He was left only with bruises and the dog tags clutched in his hand.