The three slipped into the cave, waiting only a brief moment or two for eyes to adjust to the diminished light. What they saw only reassured them that they were on the right path.

To the untrained eye it appeared to be a ritual place for some long forgotten American Indian tribe. Blankets that hadn't yet fallen into complete piles of dust were carelessly tossed into one corner, broken pottery into another. Rats had gotten into some of the cached food stuffs and the leftover bones had been dragged here and there across the floor, the marrows gnawed away.

The walls contained crude drawings of a figure and his followers, the figure clearly larger than life not only in his arms and legs but in other important parts of his anatomy. O'Neill had no doubt that this was Teknet's self-image, and that thought was confirmed when Teal'c pointed out the Goa'uld symbol for the system lord.

Time for silent hand signals: O'Neill's fingers wiggled. Anyone home?

Teal'c: I believe so, O'Neill. There is faint noise from within.

Carter: My naquedah mini-detector is showing some naquedah further back in the cave. Just remember, sir, that this is a smaller version of a proto-type, and may not be accurate.

O'Neill: unprintable reply, showing what he thought of Carter's disclaimer and what unwavering faith he had in her ability to construct miraculous weapons and techie-toys out of paper clips and sealing wax.

Carter: thank you, sir. I hope your confidence in me isn't misplaced.

O'Neill: for Daniel's sake, it better not be.

Carter: gulp.

"No!" Teknet screeched. "No! No! No! No! No!"

If Carter had been there to watch, she would have made a comparison between the Goa'uld's behavior and that of her nephew at age two. The similarity was striking.

The object of Teknet's displeasure was in no position to enjoy his adversary's distress. Daniel lay in a boneless heap on the cold floor of the cave, oblivious to everything around him. Eyes stared sightlessly at the wall, lighting, as it were, on a crude stick figure drawing of Teknet in all his supposed glory: a halo around the Goa'uld's head and around the parts of his body that Teknet fondly supposed were of great interest to his long-deceased followers and his current harem. Daniel, however, seemed unaware of the glory in front of him either posted on the cave wall or in the flesh.

Not so the trio of girls attending the erstwhile system lord. Ginny and the others fluttered around, horrified that their lord should be so distraught, seeking ways to succor him that they hadn't already tried. Another round of sex with the girls wasn't going to be good enough. Teknet wanted to do it to his new First Scribe instead, and his First Scribe was so not cooperating. The First Scribe had simply collapsed right before Teknet was about to put it to him. It just wasn't going to be any fun if the Tau're didn't resist!

"Take it off of him!" Teknet shrieked. "He must not be ruined! He is to be my First Scribe, and I've gone to a lot of trouble to acquire him! I don't want him like this! He's supposed to be able to fight me! How can I enjoy him if he doesn't fight me?" The host's body parts went limp with dismay, and that dismay was shared with the three runaways.

"Yes, lord." Ginny, the brightest of the bunch, understood her lord to mean that the tuvatka're was to be removed from the First Scribe. Ignoring the hissing sparks that the device emitted at her touch, she ripped it off of Daniel's forehead. Daniel didn't flinch.

"A hand jewel," Teknet muttered wildly. "I must have the hand jewel, to restore my little scribe. There must be a hand jewel among my things." He straightened. "Attend me, First Prime. Attend me! You will find my hand jewel immediately!"

"Way to go, lord," the girls chorused, following the Goa'uld into the inner cave where he had put his technological wonders some three thousand years earlier. Daniel they left sprawled on the floor of the cave, senseless. The soon-to-be First Scribe wasn't going anywhere.

Teal'c's Jaffa ears were better than any human's, and O'Neill knew it. So when Teal'c held up his hand in an alert, O'Neill paid attention. He raised his eyebrows in a silent question.

Teal'c nodded gravely. Hand signals flashed: inside this inner cave.

Eyebrow wiggle: Daniel?

A frown: I am not certain, O'Neill, but perhaps. The noises are quiet, and I hear movement but no voices.

Carter: how many inside?

Teal'c: at least three, including the Goa'uld, cursed be he. Possibly more. I hear only one set of steps that could belong to a male. Which was pretty impressive verbiage for mere hand signals, Carter thought. It was amazing how much communication could be achieved with just a few fingers, although she didn't think that the gesture Teal'c used to refer to the Goa'uld was standard in the military lexicon. Rather, it looked to be something that O'Neill had taught him during driving lessons outside the base.

All right, we go in quietly, O'Neill ordered silently. Teal'c, point. Carter, take the six. SG-12 will be on our tails in five.

But again Teal'c held up his hand to stop them: They pass by. One, two—all have left the cave, perhaps to go deeper within. He listened further. One remains at a distance, but he is quiet and still. I hear his breath.

Daniel?

An eloquent shrug was Teal'c's response. O'Neill sighed: let's go.

It didn't take long. O'Neill peered around the rock face and saw the archeologist crumpled against a large boulder, naked and streaked with blood. O'Neill held his own breath until he saw the gentle rise and fall of Daniel's chest. Whatever else, his civilian team member was alive. First things first.

O'Neill poked his head out cautiously, scanning the area for Goa'ulds or minions. Empty. Once again hand signals sufficed: the three spread out in the room, P-90's at ready to take down whatever or whoever needed shooting. But, except for Daniel, the place was empty.

Even with Daniel present, the place was empty. The lights were on, but nobody was home inside Daniel's head.

"Daniel?" O'Neill hissed. "Daniel, snap out of it."

Daniel never was very good at following the colonel's orders.

Carter rummaged in her pack, pulling out her first aid kit and opening up a vial of ammonia. "He's bleeding from his wrists," she noted, "and he's got some burn marks on his forehead."

"Just like that brainwashing thingy that Teknet used on him before," O'Neill agreed, trying to keep his anger under control. "Anyone want to bet that the snake didn't use it again?"

"It would be poor strategy to accept that offer, ColonelO'Neill—"

"What say we get him out of here?" O'Neill interrupted in a whisper. "What do we do about Teknet?"

Carter glanced around. "Assuming this place has no back door, colonel, I could easily blow the entrance to this cave and lock Teknet inside. That would keep him under control until we could get more troops out here to deal with him."

"I think I like that plan, major. I usually like plans with things that go boom. C'mon, Daniel," O'Neill said to the unresponsive man, grabbing one shoulder, "let's get you out of here." He hoisted Daniel to his feet, not liking the way Daniel's head lolled helplessly against his shoulder. "Where's SG-12? Some more muscle would be welcome."

"Will we do?" asked a sweet, high-pitched voice.

O'Neill whipped around. The owner of the voice was a small and slender girl who looked barely able to call herself twenty-one. Twenty was the actual number, O'Neill knew, because he'd seen the missing child report on her filed four years earlier: Virginia Jones. The size of the girl and the other two behind her suggested that they weren't capable of lifting anything more than a wallet, but their expressions said otherwise. And considering that they were each wearing a copper bracelet on their arms that was covered with Goa'uld script which O'Neill couldn't read but he had no doubt that Daniel could if he were in any condition to read and would have told him spelled 'trouble' with a capital T, O'Neill decided not to take Ginny up on her offer.

"No thanks. We'll take him from here. Pun intended."

"Nah. Lord Teknet kind of likes him. Me, I don't see all that much in him, but he's only a scribe. We'll kind of squash him into place and make him do as he's told."

"Good luck," O'Neill said, thinking of all the times that he wished that he could make Daniel do as he was told.

"You'll need it," Ginny said, and the battle was on.

Having no better option, O'Neill let Daniel slide to the floor in time to throw up an arm to block Ginny's wild punch. Despite the block, the blow staggered him. Damn, but this kid ate her Wheaties! Even Carter, working out every day, couldn't deliver a whammy this powerful. Clearly Goa'uld technology at work, as if he hadn't guessed. O'Neill desperately ducked another punch, grateful for his own training. Ginny had the power but not the finesse. All he had to do was to keep ducking, and keep from getting hit—wham!

He saw stars. Fake ones, the kind that danced around in your vision until they cleared away or someone took pity on you and put you out all together. He couldn't tell where Ginny had hit him—the pain hadn't caught up with him yet—but guessed that it was somewhere in the head area to have rattled him so. Good; that meant no damage. Now, if only Ginny would wait until his wits were straight again, he'd be ready to continue the battle.

Samantha Carter had never relied on brute force. As a woman in a man's world, that simply wouldn't work. Cunning, guile, speed: those were the attributes that she had developed. They had worked for a very long time. They were working now.

Until her opponent chose to simply soak up everything Carter could throw at her, and back her up against the cave wall. After that, it was merely a matter of a bear hug. The girl could barely make her skinny arms reach around Carter, but that didn't matter to the waif. She simply squeezed tighter, choking the breath out of Carter, until her hands met in the middle. Carter felt a rib crack.

For his own part, Teal'c felt confusion. His upbringing, his recent experiences, and his situation were at war with each other. His training on Chulak at the hands of Master Bra'tec had taught him speed and power; he had been the deadliest of Apophis' Jaffa, and had gloried in his excellence. But since seeking a home among the Tau're, he had worked diligently to acquire the mannerisms of his adopted people which told him very clearly not to battle women and children no matter what the provocation. That girls such as these were weak, as were most of the Tau're women—MajorCarter a notable exception—and that Teal'c should strive to protect them as he would his own family.

Teal'c's technique in battling the Tau're warriors in training sessions back at the SGC was to simply overwhelm any opponent with power and, should his opponent demonstrate even a modicum of strength, then Teal'c's own speed would always bring him victory. The only Tau're who could routinely score against him was O'Neill. That, Teal'c didn't mind, for O'Neill was O'Neill. There was no shame in being bested by such a warrior.

But this child in front of him didn't follow any of the rules. She stood there, laughing, as Teal'c went flying back against the cave wall when she kicked him with a strike so incompetent that it should have done nothing to her opponent. Teal'c's return blow that should have done the same thing to her merely caused her to take a single step back. Then she struck him almost in the sac containing his symbiote, causing the Goa'uld larvae inside to rumble unhappily. Teal'c doubled over.

"Enough!" There was something about the echoing Goa'uld voice inside a cave, O'Neill decided dizzily, that made the single word sound very impressive. Of course, having the three little girls who were whupping his team unmercifully stop fighting was also a pleasant relief. Damn, how did he end up on the floor next to Daniel?

"They were trying to steal your scribe, lord," Ginny told him. "We decided to stop them."

"Very good, First Prime," Teknet told her. O'Neill snuck a quick peek at Teal'c; he could have sworn that he saw the Jaffa's jaw drop in astonishment and horror at the title that the Goa'uld bestowed upon the girl, although by the time the next set of photons impinged on his eyeballs, Teal'c was back to being imperturbable. But the dark eyes smoldered. Even from a Goa'uld, the title should belong to someone more fitting.

"Did they damage him?" Teknet continued. "He is, after all, my property."

"Yes, lord." Ginny indicated the blood still leaking from Daniel's wrists. The blood had almost dried. "He's a mess."

"Hey!" O'Neill objected. "You did that, you—"

Teknet didn't care. "Hurt them," was his command. Then his eyes lit upon Teal'c, and took in the contoured chest, the bulging biceps. Teknet licked his lips. "Maybe not that one. He looks nice. I think I want to bestow my favors upon him first." He waved his hand grandly. "Proceed."

They did. O'Neill went flying back against the wall, sliding down the cold and damp surface. Carter ducked three blows before another bracelet-wearing teen-ager belted her from behind and effectively took her out of the fight. Mindful of their lord's wish to enslave the Jaffa, two ganged up on Teal'c in order to take him down to his knees. One held him there while the other placed a wire crown around his forehead. Teal'c bellowed and heaved, but couldn't get any purchase.

Teknet is your god. Teknet is your god.

Teal'c recognized the instrument of mind control instantly from DanielJackson's description. The clouds being driven into his brain were weak but Teal'c understood that eventually the thoughts would become too powerful to resist. If such a man as DanielJackson could not prevail, then what hope had a simple Jaffa?

"Five minutes up yet?"

It was Major Vincent and his men. There was nothing casual about the way they held their P-90's, nor the look in their eyes.

"Hi, Handsome," Ginny chirped. "Wanna rumble?" She started forward.

Three P-90's snapped into position, aimed at the advancing teens. SG-12 too had been raised on the chivalry of Mother Earth, but they had been schooled—and recently—in the Carter Finishing School of How a Mere Girl Can Whup Your Sorry Ass. And with a pair of glowing eyes behind them, and all four members of SG-1 no longer upright? Well, Mrs. Vincent didn't raise a fool for a son. Maybe a little slow at times, but not a complete idiot, no matter what his colonel occasionally thought…

Which was why the P-90 being jerked from his arms wasn't entirely unexpected. To his credit, Major Vincent landed all of three blows before Ginny flung him into the unforgivingly hard cave wall. His men were not so fortunate. Banner's head connected with the end of his own P-90, and Croft ended up sliding down the boulder in the cave to land in a crumpled heap next to O'Neill and Daniel.

O'Neill looked over at the sergeant. "Come here often?"

Croft gasped for breath. "What have those kids got?"

"Bracelets. Big, honkin' Goa'uld bracelets, charms included." O'Neill heaved himself to his feet. He wasn't really ready for round two, and neither, by the looks of things, were his troops, but he had to set the example.

He swayed on his feet.

Oops. Not the example he wanted to set. O'Neill steadied himself.

Ginny sauntered forward. "You're not bad, but the gray hair has got to go," she told him before slipping almost negligently under his guard with the speed of light and a Goa'uld bracelet, and O'Neill ended up on the ground again, this time at the feet of Teknet himself.

The contest was totally uneven. The SG teams were more numerous, better armed, larger—and losing. O'Neill found himself in the one-handed grip of Teknet himself, the Goa'uld grabbing him around the throat and lifting him off of the ground.

O'Neill would have liked to tell his troops to grab their weapons and blast the crap out of the Goa'uld-enhanced teens. He would have liked to let them know that it was okay to punch each and every one of those kids in the face, despite their youth and gender and general lack of respect for his gray hair, and then tie them up into very tight knots until they could be forcibly escorted to Cheyenne Mountain where those bracelets could be pried off of them.

O'Neill would have liked to tell them all of that, however right now trying to get some air into his starving lungs was a priority. Teknet's latest host was far from the largest man that O'Neill had ever seen, but his hand was doing a fine job of cutting off O'Neill's wind. O'Neill could feel his feet dangling off of the cave floor; damn, how had Teknet become so tall? Damn Goa'uld couldn't be holding him over his snaky head, could he?

Crap. Yes, he could.

Teal'c was done for, that O'Neill could see even beyond the blackness that threatened to overwhelm him from lack of oxygen. That brain-thingy had Teal'c on his knees, rocking back and forth in agony with hands clasped to his head, trying to persuade the Jaffa in ungentle terms to kowtow to the Goa'uld. Teal'c chanted frantically to himself in Goa'uld, trying to fight the invisible foe battering at his mental defenses. Carter and Vincent each had a girl occupied and making heavy weather of it, while Banner and Croft had to make do with trying to keep from getting smashed into paste by Ginny who giggled each time she broke another SG finger. Croft screeched as another digit bent in a way never designed by Mother Nature.

"This little piggy went to market. This little piggy stayed home…"

Humiliating. SG-1 and SG-12 were about to be taken out by a three thousand year old Goa'uld with a serious case of the hots for under-age girls and civilian archeologists. O'Neill welcomed the prospect of being dead, so that he wouldn't have to put up with it. Vision going…blackness…blood rushing in his ears…good-bye, little cabin in Minnesota…

Gunshot.

The hand around O'Neill's throat loosened, loosened some more, and O'Neill could feel air sliding back into his tortured lungs. Hard ground under his feet. Knee giving way and threatening to dump him onto the afore-mentioned ground. What the hell…?

Vision came back in time to see Teknet waver and slump, toppling the little host to the ground like a puppet whose strings were cut by a giant pair of scissors. The Goa'uld fell forward to reveal a large and smoking hole in the center of his back, courtesy of O'Neill's own P-90, which was also smoking.

Courtesy of Dr. Daniel Jackson, Ph.D.

No Goa'uld's boy toy.