Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.

Good points: he was no longer tied between two posts. Teknet and his harem were no longer distracting him, no longer fondling him. Not even poking him with that electrical zapper thing. He hadn't decided which was worse: the poking or the fondling. Or the giggling.

Bad points: the blindfold was still on, his hands were now tied behind him, and he was stumbling in the wake of the Goa'uld and his afore-mentioned harem, being tugged along by the rope that lay loosely but threateningly around his neck.

Really bad points: Daniel was fairly certain that Teknet had pulled out the general location of the cave where the Goa'uld technology lay hidden from the middle of several screams of "Teknet!" and "No! No! Get out of my head!" The trek across the burning hot desert sand seemed to suggest that this was the case even though the details by now were a bit blurry. Daniel knew that the desert was hot because the sand was burning into the soles of his bare feet: yet another really bad point. Burned feet didn't make for a fast getaway, if the opportunity arose. Not that he thought that it would. But it was nice to dream. Anything was better than trying to hop along the searing pebbles on the desert floor.

But that was another good point, he reminded himself. Pain was driving away the incessant droning in his head.

The tuvatka're was still there, driving its message home: Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god. Daniel was still Daniel, but he didn't know how much longer he could hang on to his identity. How long had it been since he'd had food and water? And the incessant ministrations of Teknet's harem had prevented him from resting, from conserving what little strength he had left. He had finally figured out that they were poking him with a cattle prod. Hurt like a shavuor'te, to quote Teal'c on a bad day. Daniel stumbled, and went down to a knee. One of the girls behind him jerked on the rope around his throat and forced him back to the march. She giggled at his plight.

Jack, where are you?

Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.

Teal'c stopped.

What had alerted him? For his senses told him that the trail was hot, here, in this location. The air was still with leftover desert heat, the moon contributing nothing but light to his efforts, and in the distance a predatory animal gave voice to its frustration over failing to make its kill. Teal'c had no sympathy for the beast: it had failed, and deserved to seek its den with an empty belly. The world had little time for failures.

Teal'c had not failed. He had succeeded in locating signs of his prey. He knelt to examine the desert floor.

There, as his intuition had informed him, were tracks. Small, disappearing under the onslaught of the gentle breeze, sand drifting in to cover them, were tracks of several people foolish in the ways of nature. Not one knew how hide the trail. One had attempted to brush them away with a branch, but to Teal'c, who had learned to read such signs under Master Bra'tec, such efforts were only as if they had erected a Tau're neon sign that proclaimed 'this way'.

He looked closer, utilizing the moonlight to assess his enemy. The group moved as a whole, trampling in each other's path. There were more than four walkers, possibly as many as seven; it was difficult to discern with this careless a group. Several were female, as evidenced by the smaller strides. One was male, but a male who was not large. From the length of the step Teal'c surmised that the male was not even as tall as MajorCarter. Another was also male, and his steps stumbled. Here and there the imprint of a knee in the sand shone forth. Teal'c frowned; it was likely that he was close to discovering the whereabouts of DanielJackson. The size of the footprint was consistent with that of DanielJackson.

He pulled out the cell phone that O'Neill had pressed upon him should any one of SG-1 come upon information, but as he prepared to access the device, it vibrated in his hand. He almost dropped it with surprise, but, fumbling, unfolded the small instrument. He gave the signal that O'Neill taught him was appropriate in such situations: "Yo."

"Teal'c?"

"MajorCarter. I was about to summon you."

"No time for that now, Teal'c. I've found traces of naquedah. It must belong to Teknet's weapons cache. We need to meet. Where are you?"

"Approximately three kilometers northwest of the town. I have determined—"

"Good. That's the direction where my signal is strongest. I'll meet you there. Keep trying to get hold of Colonel O'Neill; I just tried, and the line is busy. I had to leave a voice mail, and you know how the colonel is about checking his messages. I'll meet you ASAP. Carter out."

Teal'c frowned at the device. He had understood it to be capable of two way communication, yet he feared that he had not adequately imparted his own information to MajorCarter. He sighed, and prepared to summon ColonelO'Neill on this Tau're cell phone. At least the major was joining him at this site, instead of insisting that he travel elsewhere. That would have been an inefficient use of time.

But before he could tap in the numerical code to contact ColonelO'Neill, the device vibrated yet again. Once more he opened it and uttered the appropriate salutation: "Yo."

"T? O'Neill here. Listen, the bartender in town just put me onto a line that we gotta follow up. Little place outside of town. Where are you?"

"Approximately three kilometers northwest of the town, O'Neill. MajorCarter—"

"Good, that's near where this guy said to go. I'll meet you there in ten. Listen, see if you can get hold of Carter, would you, big guy? She's not picking up. Thanks. O'Neill out." The line went dead.

Teal'c stared at the small device, the four bars of signal service winking cheerfully at him in the moonlight. Clearly this Tau're technology surpassed that of the Goa'uld in the field of communication. Teal'c had said not one word that would induce either ColonelO'Neill nor MajorCarter to rush to his side, yet both were presently en route to his location.

Truly remarkable.

Daniel cascaded to his knees, exhausted. His hands were shaking, or would have been if the rope tying them together was loose enough. Instead he had to make do with a head that swam with dizziness, praying not to throw up or fall over, wishing that the blindfold had slipped enough to let him see just a little bit.

The air here was cooler, and he surmised that they had entered some sort of cave. The echo helped to clue him in. His heart sank. This was clearly where Teknet had stashed some of his toys several millennia ago. Obviously the Goa'uld had been able to piece together this location from the words torn from Daniel's throat.

Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.

Daniel was heartily sick of it, sick of the tuvatka're, sick of Teknet's girls shocking him with the cattle prod, and disgusted by Teknet's lust. It was only a matter of time before Teknet decided to use Daniel's body for his own purposes, and Daniel devoutly hoped that his own mind would be destroyed by the tuvatka're before that happened. He could think of nothing worse than to be assaulted by the Goa'uld. This superficial fondling by the host was bad enough, but what Teknet had in mind went beyond what any sane man should have to endure.

All the Goa'ulds in the galaxy, and I get picked up by the one who hasn't a decent sex life in three thousand years, and is bisexual to boot. If I weren't so tired, I'd be laughing.

"This is it," Teknet breathed. "I have found the hiding place of my godly tools! They are here! I feel them!"

No, Daniel thought wearily, you feel the naquedah. You're sensitive to it, snake. At least get that part right.

Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.

Teknet is a damn idiot.

"Bring him," Teknet ordered. Daniel crawled back to his feet, trying to hurry so that whichever girl held his leash wouldn't choke him on the way up. "Spread out," the Goa'uld then demanded. "Find my things!"

"Yes, lord!" The girls scattered.

Which left Daniel with the Goa'uld. Teknet walked up to him. Daniel wondered briefly if he would be able to kick the Goa'uld where it would do the most good and then run, but dismissed the idea. Hands tied behind his back? Feet burned to a crisp? Barely able to walk without falling over?

Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.

He forced himself to stand stock still as Teknet ran mock-gentle hands over his chest. From the feel of it, Teknet was still in the short and swarthy host body that he had taken when Daniel had first met him. Squirming would only make it worse, make Teknet a happy Goa'uld. Daniel bit his lip, fighting not to move. The tuvatka're itched across his skull.

"You are mine, little one," the Goa'uld crooned. Little one? Crazy Goa'uld. Teknet's host body was a good six inches shorter than Daniel. "I have desired you since first I laid eyes upon you." Crap. This is so not good for yours truly. "You have been honored by my gaze, and soon I shall take what is rightfully mine. And you shall rejoice in the pleasure that you give me! What, still trembling, little one?"

Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.

"I must take you soon," Teknet mused. "I wish to know the fire that beats in your heart, the fire that I am extinguishing." He slid his hands down to Daniel's skivvies, squeezing and fondling. "You will fight me, scribe, before you give me your soul." He slipped his fingers ever closer, slipping his fingers under the waistband.

Daniel couldn't stand it. He wrenched himself away, toppling over onto the stone hard floor of the cave, retching violently.

Teknet laughed. And then giggled. It was not a sane sound.

Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god. Teknet will save you.

NO!

Hand signals flashed: Teal'c, circle left. Carter, right. At my signal, we go in together from both back and front. O'Neill didn't need to add be careful. They were dealing with a Goa'uld. That went without saying.

It was a ramshackle old homestead that had been abandoned sometime in the previous century. The porch had collapsed long ago, taking the two-seater swing down with it. The windows were boarded up, and O'Neill couldn't see any light between the cracks. Could it be empty? Not good. Better: everyone was asleep with the lights off. No electricity, no lights. Save any battery light for early evenings when it was needed. It was what O'Neill would have done. O'Neill really didn't want the place to be empty. He wanted it to be filled with an archeologist, a runaway or two, and a has-been Goa'uld waiting for a whuppin'.

Teal'c had pointed out the tracks that led to this place, a multitude of smallish feet almost any one of which could have belonged to the runaway Ginny Jones. O'Neill started counting down from ten, giving his team the time they needed to get into position.

Six. Five.

Still no lights. Still no sounds.

Four. Three.

No snoring, either. O'Neill sidled onto the creaky porch without a sound, placing himself next to the door, snub-nose revolver in hand.

Two. One.

O'Neill broke down the door with one kick. "Go! Go!" he yelled, sensing more than hearing the other two ram in the back entrance.

Nothing.

O'Neill quickly darted his flash over the area. There was a pile of clothes scattered in one corner, empty fast food wrappers tossed over the floor—but no people. No Daniel. No runaway Ginny Jones. No glowing eyes.

"Secure, sir." Carter couldn't quite keep the disappointment from her voice.

O'Neill knew how she felt. "Haul out the lanterns, major," he ordered. "Let's see what this place can tell us."

It wasn't much. O'Neill surveyed the results dismally. There were ropes hanging from the rafters, ropes that had recently been cut and that had blood on them. O'Neill feared that that blood belonged to Daniel, but it wasn't enough to say that the man was dead. Might be better off if he was. O'Neill knew what Teknet had tried to do to Daniel before, what the Goa'uld had already done to a member of SGC that he had successfully brainwashed several months ago. Daniel would rather die.

"These are his clothes, colonel." Carter picked up a jacket, folded it, and then a pair of pants. "It's what he was wearing the night that he was taken."

"Any—?"

"Torn, but no blood," Carter said quickly. "His shoes are here as well."

"Teknet was always kind of kinky," O'Neill recalled grimly. Crap. Daniel's clothes in this shack means that he's wandering around in the elements stark naked. No protection from the sun, the wind, the desert… or the Goa'uld. "Keeps wanting Daniel in the all together," O'Neill snarled. "All right, there's nothing more in here. Let's look around outside for any place they might have gone."

"O'Neill!" Teal'c sounded the alarm. "A vehicle approaches!"

"Douse the lights!" O'Neill ordered immediately.

Best thing in the world: the Goa'uld and his minions—gaah, there's that word again—were coming back. O'Neill and Teal'c went for either side of the door, Carter behind a turned over table, peeping out around the side. There was almost no light; even the moonlight had a hard time getting in past the boarded up windows.

They heard the vehicle grind to a halt outside, O'Neill blessing the fact that SG-1 had approached on foot. There was nothing outside to notify the Goa'uld's band that anything was amiss.

But the people outside were definitely on alert, and O'Neill couldn't figure out why. From the outside the place looked exactly as they had found it. Yet these people were creeping up on the place almost as SG-1 had. O'Neill heard the scritch scritch of shoes against sand as one person sidled around to the back. There were more out front.

They waited, adrenaline pumping. The door inched open, and the snub-nose end of a pistol nudged it further so that a short-haired head could peep through.

O'Neill put his own snub-nose to the short-haired head. "Move, and you're dead," he hissed.

The head froze. "Colonel O'Neill?"

O'Neill's own trigger finger halted. "Vincent? That you?"

"Yes, sir. Major Vincent, reporting in." The man paused. "Uh, can I call out to Banner and Croft, sir? Before they break the back door down?"

"Go ahead, major. It's already been broken in once tonight." O'Neill gestured in acquiescence, putting the pistol back into its holster. Tension leaked away. He straightened up. "What are you doing here, major? Does the general know, I hope?"

"Yes, sir. We're here with his blessing, sir. And Colonel Lassiter's."

"This sounds good." O'Neill eased back, motioning for Carter and Teal'c to come off alert and to fire up the lanterns again. He took a good look at the major and his sergeants. One corner of his mouth quirked upward. "You came all the way out here to tell me that Lassiter is gonna pull through?"

"Yes, sir. I mean, no sir, that's not why we came." Major Vincent looked around the one room shack. "Did you find Dr. Jackson, sir?"

"Doesn't look like it, major."

"Yes, sir. Well, sir, the colonel—Colonel Lassiter, sir—and General Hammond suggested that me and the boys might owe Dr. Jackson an apology." Vincent looked acutely uncomfortable. "You might say the colonel insisted on it."

O'Neill hid the crooked smile that wanted to creep into view. "Ripped you a new one, major?"

"Yes, sir. And sounds like we deserved it, sir." Vincent went to the back door. "Banner, Croft. Front and center."

The three of them faced SG-1 and tossed off a crisp salute. "SG-12 awaiting your orders, sir."