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My Friend, Danny 

Daniel pawed through the packs that had been left behind, all of them open, the majority of contents spread over the ground. "Whoever took our people were looking for something," he muttered. "Something they were sure our people had."

Jack squinted against the bright sun. Pulled his sunglasses from his pocket, then adjusted them on his nose. "Any idea what?"

"Not a clue," Daniel replied, glancing around the campsite. Not paying attention to the group of trees and bushes just a few yards away. "There doesn’t seem to be anything here. From the photos I saw, I can’t think of anything that could be of any value, except to an archaeologist."

"Or some really filthy, stinking rich ‘antiquities collector’," Casey said.

His head came up, and he frowned slightly. "Case?"

She shook her head at her husband’s unspoken inquiry. "No clue, at least not yet."

Turning to watch Sam as she determined the address the DHD had last dialed, Jack contemplated his request for a moment. It was, he thought, one of the things that Radar did…and did well. She’d be the first to point that out. A glance at her husband had him hesitating. No…this was too important…

"Jack, spit it out," Casey said.

It was impossible not to grin. It was also impossible to keep anything hidden from the feisty seer…at least nothing could be hidden for long. Especially if she were determined to figure something out. "So, any chance you can hone in on the vibes around here, and give us a bit of intel?"

Daniel rose to his feet, about to protest the request. Casey was, he knew, still in danger whenever she went searching on whatever plane of existence she went to. The rebels among the Ancients had been destroyed, true enough. But according to a recent chat with Miss Eloise, there were other enemies of The One out there…enemies who would be eager to take advantage of Casey when she was helpless. The old Ascended seer had warned his wife to be careful, and to make any such searches as brief as possible for that very reason. The thought that Casey might not be as helpless as he thought poked at him, but he pushed it aside.

Before he could voice the objection she could see in his blue eyes, Casey put a restraining hand on Daniel’s arm. "It’s my job, Stud Muffin."

"I don’t have to like it," he ground out.

"No," she agreed easily. "You don’t have to like it. Just accept it."

"Remember what Miss Eloise said," Daniel warned.

Casey tilted her head slightly. "I think the old bat is exaggerating the problem."

"I don’t."

"Well, I still have a job to do." Casey pushed her P90 to her side, and wrapped her arms around Daniel’s neck. "Ready?"

His arms had gone around her slender frame automatically, pulling her close. Wishing he could protect her from whatever dangers lurked. Knowing that once she closed those beautiful green eyes and started her ‘search’, he was helpless to come to her aid. "As I’ll ever be."

Closing her eyes, Casey centered herself. Listened to her own heartbeat for a moment, then slowly tuned it out, focusing instead to the hum of the planet around her. At the ‘center’ of the hum was the resonance of their reality. Not quite harmonic, it was still comforting in its presence. The layers of sound and sensation that surrounded that resonance identified the fact that she wasn’t on good old planet Earth. The planet she was standing on had its own sound, its own song. And there was something…Reaching out, she called for her spirit guide.

Daniel glanced over his wife’s head and caught Jack’s gaze when Casey began swearing. Any conversations she had with her spirit guide were no more than quiet whispers that couldn’t be interpreted. Unless she was angry. Then every word came through loud and clear.

As angry as Radar was sounding, whatever she’d learned certainly couldn’t be good news for SG-1. Jack heaved a sigh. Situation normal. All fucked up.

She opened her eyes, and for one brief moment, lost herself in the love she could see in the blue eyes that watched her carefully.

"Uh…Radar?" Jack asked, when the seer remained silent.

Casey shook herself mentally. "I want to know where Ba’al is, and I want a ride to where he is, and I’m gonna skin that bastard myself!"

Daniel snorted, trying to hold back his laughter. "Need any help doing that?"

"Nope. But you’re welcome to come along," she retorted.

"So, our current crisis is thanks to Balls?" Jack inquired.

"Yep. He’s hired a group of really dirty, nasty thugs. He thinks there was something here, and that our people found it, and he wants it," Casey replied.

Daniel shook his head. "SG-12 was the first team on this planet. They didn’t find anything. Jonas reported that other than a few interesting markings on what he described as a ‘high wall’, he couldn’t find anything. Of course, they were only here for about an hour. They were recalled to help move a group of villagers out of a flood plain."

"Could have been buried," Jack pointed out.

"Possibly," Daniel allowed.

"Or, dipshit is getting information from someone who likes jerking his chain," Casey murmured, her head tilted slightly to one side. "Someone who wants to screw with the Tau’ri…no…no, that’s not right. They…he?…whoever…I don’t think they really want to…Tok’ra!"

"Now why am I not surprised?" Jack groused.

Casey shook her head. "No, this isn’t about hurting the Tau’ri. Someone has a message for us, or information. And this is the only way to get it to us."

"That would mean the Tok’ra have a new agent near Ba’al," Daniel mused.

"Maybe not near enough to know exactly what the snake is doing, but close enough to gather information. Someone in a position to offer tidbits of information, and Ba’al trusts this person enough not to question said info," Casey said.

"Got it!" Sam called. "Took longer than I thought it would, because these crystals have been aligned differently."

"Different, how?" Jack asked. "Not differently as going to send us into the sun or something, right?"

The colonel ducked her head for a moment, then looked up and gave her CO a cheeky grin. "Nothing like that. It looks like a rushed repair job at some point in time."

"Okay, we take the info back the SGC, send a MAL-" Jack started.

Casey shuddered visibly, then shivered again. "No, Jack. We go now. We have to go now."

"Casey, I’m not going in blind," Jack objected.

"Not blind, Jack. Right now, the ‘gate we need to get to isn’t being guarded. We’ll have to be quiet, and move fast as soon as we get…wherever it is," Casey said.

Jack studied the slender blonde for a moment. Radar’s intel had never been bad. Not once. Annoying as hell at times. But she’d never led them wrong. "Okay. Colonel, dial it up. Let’s get to wherever it is we need to go. Keep close, weapons ready."

Mike shifted slightly, stretching his legs out in front of him. So far, their captors seemed to be ignoring them – the men had left at least an hour prior, and no one had looked into the small cell since. Which might or might not be a good thing. There was just one thing he questioned…

Major Wheaton looked over at the archaeologist when the scientist poked him with one finger.

"We’re not on a planet, are we?"

The major looked around. "Nope. Figure we’re on either a transport ship or a cargo ship. Old one at that."

For one moment Mike felt the room around him begin to spin. He’d spent the equivalent of full day and a full night on a different planet. As in, a planet not good ol’ Earth. He’d been kidnapped by men who might be as human as he was, but they were still aliens. And now, he was sitting on an honest-to-god spaceship, going who knew where.

Wheaton grinned. "Yeah, it’s a bitch to wrap your mind around all of it sometimes."

"No shit," Mike grunted slightly.

"You’ve been at the SGC what, a month?" Information the major had due to the memos that kept all COs informed of new scientists assigned to the SGC; any of whom could be assigned to accompany a team on a mission.

"Not quite five weeks," Mike confirmed.

"I’ve been on SG-5 for about five years now," Wheaton continued. "It still blows my mind at times."

"We can worry about where we are later," Bernie whispered. "What are we going to do to escape?"

Again, a grin spread across Wheaton’s face. Doctor Bernie Watson was as tough as any Marine he’d ever met, and had a sense of humor that could make a weathered sailor blush. "Right now, trying to escape wouldn’t do us much good. I haven’t got a clue how to fly this ship, my boys don’t know how to do it, and we don’t know who else is involved in this. Those assholes out there are just hired guns."

Bernie sat back against the wall, huffing a sigh of defeat. The major was, she admitted to herself…grumpily…absolute correct. "How will they ever find us?" she wondered out loud.

"Well, we have one Colonel Doctor Samantha Carter-O’Neill on our side. Hasn’t been a gizmo built that she can’t figure out," Wheaton said quietly. "No doubt she’ll use one of her scanners to get the last address that was dialed out from the Stargate where we were. And we have Casey Jackson. She’s got a gift I don’t understand, but she’s used it to save lives in the SGC multiple times. This will be a piece of cake for those ladies. Figure it won’t take them long to get here."

"If they come through, they’ll wind up on this ship with us," Bernie pointed out.

"Yep, that’s true. But between Carter and Teal’c, they’ll know how to fly this thing."

Mike couldn’t help but smile at the pride, and the awe, evident in the major’s words. "So, we just sit back and wait to be rescued?"

"Pretty much. Whenever those guys are nearby, try to listen as much as possible. They might say something that will give us a clue to who’s behind all this."

Bernie and Mike exchanged glances. "We’re not exactly up to speed on speaking Goa’uld," Bernie admitted.

"Just listen. If you can remember the sounds, that will work. We’ll figure it out," Wheaton replied reassuringly.

Andrews was sitting up now, although he’d remained silent. He was leaning forward…elbows on his knees, his head in his hands. No doubt suffering from a massive headache caused by the blow he’d received.

Sanders had twitched a time or two, but still wasn’t conscious. A fact that was beginning to worry his commanding officer.

Daniel glanced around. Just as Casey had said, there was no one nearby. They were, however, in what appeared to be a large semi-dark room. A large, empty semi-dark room.

Jack and Teal’c raced to the only opening in the room. The two soldiers carefully examined what they could see in the dim light.

A protrusion on the wall beside him caught Daniel’s attention. Okay, it was possible that this wall was able to be lowered. He tapped the wall…yep. Metal. The only reason for a wall to lower on a ship… Cargo ship. They were in the hold of a cargo ship. "It’s a cargo ship," he announced softly.

His head whipping around to face the archaeologist, Jack could feel his shoulders tighten. This was so not a place he wanted to be. He didn’t want his team here, either. But if Radar had insisted they come here, it was because there was either intel about where their missing scientists and team were…hell, they’re here! "Casey, you’ve managed to find us on Ball’s ship a time or two, think you can hone in on our missing team and the lab rats?" he asked, hoping that the seer could pull off a major miracle and lead them to where the captives were being held.

"Archaeologists," Daniel interjected firmly.

"Right. Rock readers. Sorry," Jack retorted.

Casey grinned at the banter, then tilted her head to one side. "They’re on this level. That’s odd, don’t you think, having holding cells on the same level as the cargo bays?"

"Small ship?" Jack offered.

"Indeed," Teal’c said. "This is a very old vessel. Mostly likely taken from a people who traded throughout the galaxy. Apophis had several ships like this."

When her green eyes focused on the wall behind him, Daniel reached out to run his hand up and down his wife’s back. "Case?"

"The guys on this ship? They’re slave traders."

"You already told us that," Jack replied.

"These slave traders are…different."

"How?"

Casey blinked, and looked at her CO. "How what?"

Jack rolled his eyes. "How are these slave traders different?"

"Beats me," she shrugged.

"Well, let me know if you figure it out," Jack grumped.

"Always do, boss."

"O’Neill, the way is clear. Perhaps we should attempt to reach the area where the prisoners are being held."

Jack nodded. "Okay, slow and careful. We do NOT get caught, got it?" Three heads moved up and down in acknowledgement. Teal’c lifted an eyebrow. Acknowledgement enough, he thought.

As was his habit, Teal’c led the way. It was his finely honed skills and decades of experience that prevented him from setting off an unexpected trap at the intersection of the corridor they were on, and what appeared to be a narrower, less used hallway. He carefully examined the wire that was carefully wrapped around the doorframe.

"Is that for some sort of dampening field?" Jack whispered.

"I do not know," Teal’c replied in kind.

Jack motioned for Sam to join him. He pointed to the barely visible copper wire. "Dampening field?"

Teal’c slid out of the way, allowing Sam to get closer to the doorway. She followed the wire with her eyes. It disappeared into the bulkhead beside her. She shook her head. "I don’t think so. It’s either set to electrocute whoever walks through here, or set off an alarm. Or both."

"Oy!" Jack shook his head, then glanced at Casey. She was tugging her lip between her teeth. And if he knew the seer, and he did, she was probably starting to blame herself for the predicament the team was facing. "Can you disable it?"

Sam shook her head. "I don’t think so. Not without knowing what it’s hooked up to, or where…" She paused, and looked again at the wall where the wire disappeared. She reached for her flashlight, then glanced toward the hallway. "I need to take a look."

He only hesitated for a moment. "Do it."

Sam kept the beam of light narrow and focused it on the wire. She grinned. A faint line was visible around the perimeter of an eight inch square of metal. It almost looked as if the piece had been cut from the wall, then carefully fit back in. "Hold this," she whispered, waiting until Jack was holding the light before reaching for her pocket knife. Letting her pack slide to the floor, allowing her to mover closer to the wall, Sam slid the tip of the knife into the line. She wiggled it slightly, and felt the metal tile shift the tiniest bit. With a bit of effort, she pushed the blade under the tile, and continued to apply pressure until the entire thing popped free.

Teal’c’s quick reflexes prevented the piece of metal from dropping to the floor. He wrapped his hand completely around the tile, then nodded at Sam.

It was a simple switch. It didn’t appear to be attached to anything other than a sensor, so it was an alarm. A minute or so of investigation, and she was able to disarm the sensor. "I don’t know if alarms are going off anywhere else, but this won’t," she said. She took the tile and carefully pressed it back into place.

"Any ideas on the alarm, Big Guy?" Jack asked, watching Teal’c carefully.

"If there were alarms, we would hear them," the Jaffa replied calmly. "I believe that doorway," he pointed to the doorway visible to their immediate right, "is where the ladder to the upper levels of the ship can be found. We would hear the echo if there were alarms."

"Good to know," Jack sighed. He turned once again to look at Casey. "This level?"

She nodded.

"Well, there’s only one way to go." The hallway was dim, which offered lots of shadows for hiding. It also offered lots of shadows for bad guys to hide in. Jack slipped through the door. It didn’t appear that they’d have to look very hard…there was only one other door to be seen. Back to the wall, he moved toward that doorway. Halfway there, he realized the ‘door’ was made of thin, vertical rods, not more than six inches apart. Two supporting rods went horizontally at the top, the center, and the bottom of the door. Typical cell door. He peeked inside the small cell.

"General O’Neill?" a voice whispered.

"Wheaton?"

"Yes, sir. Damned glad you’re here!"

"Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah. Sanders is still a bit out of it, they hit him pretty hard. Doctor Izett is sorta out of it, too, but I think she can stand on her own," Wheaton replied.

"Okay, let’s see if we can get this door open."

"Sir, I overheard a couple of those bastards talking. Heard a name."

Jack could tell by the tone of voice that he wasn’t going to like what he was about to hear. "Which was?"

"Ba’al."

Once again Jack glanced at the seer. Confirmation for what she’d seen. "Yeah, Radar said something about his slimy ass."

"So what’s the plan?"

Before he could respond, he felt a hand on his arm. Turned his head and looked down into green eyes. Even in the dim light he could see the sparks of anger flickering in her gaze.

"If you want my input," Casey said softly, "I say we take this tub, find out where Ba’al is hiding, figure out what the Tok’ra spy wants, and then…I get to slice that friggin’ snake into calamari rings and fry his ass."

Jack gnawed the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. "Think we can handle those guys?" he asked Wheaton.

"Well, I figure we should be able to. Let Doctor Watson at them. She’ll kick their asses in a heartbeat."

"Let’s get you outa here, then."

The lock on the cell door was easily picked, or so Sam declared, opening it with a flourish. Jack grinned, and Wheaton barely bit back his snicker at the obvious pride in the general’s eyes.

Mike and Bernie peered into the darkness. They could barely see Daniel standing against the corridor wall, his attention focused on preventing the teams from being ambushed from behind. Casey was just behind him, her P90 pointed in the same direction.

For one moment, Mike wanted to cross the cell, step into the corridor, and then hit Daniel in the face with everything he had. He curled his hands into fists. As suddenly as the feeling came over him, it disappeared. He didn’t believe for one minute that Daniel would have allowed anyone from level 18 on the planet – regardless of the interesting tiles found, and no matter how many SG teams may also have been present – if he’d had a single doubt about their safety.

Daniel felt eyes on him…turned his head to see Mike watching him carefully. He took note of the clenched fists, then returned his gaze to wide, worry-filled brown eyes. "Are you okay?"

He managed to nod. "I’m just a bit…hell, I’m scared to death!" Mike admitted.

"Yeah, join the club," Daniel muttered. His gaze moved to Bernie. He barely managed to keep from grinning. The woman was spitting mad. It crossed his mind to hand his P90 to her, and let his Wife and Bernie take on the slave traders by themselves. He, Jack, and Teal’c could clean up the mess when the fight was over. Instead, he asked her the same question.

"Do you have another one of those?" Bernie asked, nodding at his weapon. She’d been training with Ferretti, and knew that the P90 could tear into a target like a sharp, hot knife through butter.

Daniel shook his head, was about to reach for his sidearm, when Wheaton pointed to a small door.

"Our weapons are in there, or at least they were. Let her have Sanders’ weapon. He’s not going to be able to do much more than stand up," the major suggested.

Teal’c carefully opened the locker. Just as the major had said, the team’s weapons were inside. In a matter of seconds everyone was armed. Daniel had handed his nine millimeter to Mike.

Leanna had perked up as soon as she had seen Daniel and Casey. "I can help Airman Sanders," she said softly. Although her voice shook slightly, she was standing firm. She reached for the taller man, allowing him to lean against her. "You do what you have to do. We’ll be right behind you."

Daniel gave her a smile and nodded. "Case, give Lee your nine mil. She might need it."

Casey immediately complied. Pulled an extra magazine from her pocket, and handed it to Leanna as well. "Just in case."

Leanna nodded her understanding. She wasn’t nearly as proficient with the hand gun as her colleagues, but she could at least offer a bit of support if needed.

Jack tugged Casey to his side. "Okay, Radar, can you take a look, and give me an idea how this ship is laid out?"

"I’ll do my best," Casey whispered in reply.

"That’s all I can ask." Jack looked at Daniel and cocked his head in Casey’s direction. "We’ll keep you covered."

It was all he needed to understand that Jack knew how important it was to him to be able to help his wife during any of her ‘searches’. He let his P90 swing down to his side, pulled the slender seer into his embrace.

Without a word between them Jack, Teal’c, and Sam moved closer to the couple now standing with their arms around each other. Their bodies touched unobtrusively, making that ever-wondrous connection that intensified that SG-1 magic.

Major Wheaton motioned to Airman Andrews, and the two men slipped in front of SG-1, keeping their eyes on the door at the end of the corridor.

She opened her eyes; looked directly into worried blue eyes. "I’m fine. And we might have a problem."

Jack bit back a moan. "What kind of a problem?"

"Right now, all of those guys…and they are a ragged, nasty looking bunch, all seven of them…are crowded into the ship’s control room. Making plans to get rich with us."

"Figures," Jack muttered.

"Just above us is the living quarters. I counted four small bunk rooms, two men to a room…I guess one of them has a private suite. Probably their so-called ‘captain’," Casey scoffed. "Tiny galley and narrow mess room. Below us is the engine. It is not going to be easy to fight those guys in such tight quarters."

Jack’s fingers ran back and forth across the strap of his P90. "We’re going to have to take them out, one at a time. The problem becomes, what do we do with those we catch while we’re trying to nab the others?"

"O’Neill, there should be sufficient room near the engines to confine our captives," Teal’s said.

"Just a thought, sir, but what if we managed to muck up the engines somehow? That would get one or two down there. We take them out, holler out that we need help, get a couple more down there," Wheaton suggested.

"I’m sure I can cause enough of a problem to warrant at least a couple of men to examine the engines," Sam said.

"Okay," Jack nodded.

"The doors on the bunk rooms are closed. If we can truss ‘em up like turkeys, and gag ‘em, we can hide a few there," Casey offered.

"I can take Sanders and the rock readers back into the cell," Airman Andrews said. "If we position ourselves right, they’ll never notice that the major is missing. They won’t raise the alarm if their prisoners are still locked up."

"Good thinking," Jack said. He turned to Mike and Bernie. "Keep your weapons hidden. Try to look as if you’re falling asleep. If you need to act, Andrews will let you know."

The two archaeologists nodded their understanding.

"You," Jack said to Leanna, "keep fussing over Sanders. Sanders, you’re still unconscious."

"Yes, sir."

Leanna nodded her understanding.

"Radar, is there anywhere for you and Daniel to hide up there?" Jack asked, pointing at the low ceiling above them.

Casey frowned. "Some sort of storage locker. I think there’s a pantry of sorts. It will be tight, but I think we’ll fit in there."

"Good. You two will hide there. You’re going to be our insurance in case something goes tits up. You should be able to hear what’s going on. If it sounds like we’re losing, try to get in behind the bastards."

Daniel nodded and pulled Casey close to his side with one arm.

"Let’s get this done, people. I want control of this ship ASAP," Jack said.

Jack followed the Jacksons’ up the ladder, made certain they were well hidden, and able to hear what was happening. 

Daniel slid a small box between the door and the doorjamb, preventing the door from closing completely, which would increase their ability to hear what was happening. The darkness of the small pantry would prevent any of the slave traders from seeing them. If one of those men opened the door, it would be the last act he would ever commit. Of course, it would also alert his companions of the presence of unwanted guests. Why couldn’t it be easy, just once? he grumbled silently.

Sam and Teal’c were already exploring the small ship’s engine. It was old, it was in bad shape, and the astrophysicist had already identified nearly a dozen haphazard repairs. She grinned broadly. "It’s going to be easy to screw this up."

"Indeed," Teal’c acknowledged. "The question becomes, will you be able to conduct repairs?"

"It is in bad shape," Sam admitted, "so I’m going to have to be careful about what I ‘break’. But if I can do a minimum amount of damage, there shouldn’t be any problems with repairs. If we’re still in orbit above the planet, I can always go through the ‘gate and get what I need."

"I do not believe that we are near the planet at this time. The fact that we were able to use the Chappa’ai to reach this ship is only because we arrived very shortly after these men would have left orbit," Teal’c replied.

"I was afraid you’d say that," Sam sighed. She tugged slightly on a rusty lever. "Okay, this isn’t something I want to have to fix. Let’s see what’s over here."

Further examination had Sam smiling once again. "All I have to do is pull a couple of these," she nodded at the collection of crystals, "and the engine stops. I put them back in, and we’re moving again."

Teal’c nodded. "Do you wish to wait for O’Neill to join us?"

"Yes, I do. I don’t want him caught somewhere else on the ship," Sam replied.

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