Æsirhættir
By The Prophet - prophet@phlegethon.org


                         *******************

Includes: Tears of a Clown
          Hel's Teeth
          Wolf's Head
          The World Serpent
          Ragnarok

                         *******************


Tears of a Clown
By The Prophet - prophet@phlegethon.org


RATING: PG-13

WARNINGS: Violence

CATEGORY: Drama, Action/adventure

PAIRING: Daniel/other, other pairing

TIME FRAME: Season 5

SPOILERS: Spoilers for Singularity, Thor's Chariot, In the Serpent's 
Grasp, Jolinar's Memories, Nemesis/Small Victories, Upgrades, The Curse, 
Rite of Passage

SUMMARY: Taking Cassandra to visit his old friend's dig seemed a good way 
for Daniel to stave off the holiday blues, but when Dr Angharad Midhir's 
find of a lifetime hurls her, Daniel and Jack across two galaxies, not 
only they, but the entire Galaxy are put at risk. 

DISCLAIMER:  Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of 
Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret 
Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is written purely for my 
own entertainment, and that of anyone else who may happen to read it. No 
infringement of copyright is intended. It is not intended and should 
never be used for commercial purposes.

The original characters, situations and ideas contained within this work 
are the property of the author

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the first part of an epic fan fiction, Æsirhættir 
which will continue in Hel's Teeth, Wolf's Head, The World Serpent and 
Ragnarok.

Vinland was an attempted colony, established in the New World by Leif 
Erikssen, a Greenlander. In the face of native hostility, the colony 
failed, and Lief's party returned to Greenland. The Vinland colony has 
been connected to the Viking settlement unearthed at L'Anse aux Meadows 
in Newfoundland, although some archaeologists believe that this is a 
different settlement, and that Vinland was in New England.

The name Angharad Midhir is pronounced - very approximately - Anne-hah-
rad Me-er.

The first part of the Brythonic double-l is often approximated as an 'f', 
or with a hard 'ch' as in loch, but is more correctly an unsounded 
aspiration. This is nigh impossible to do without a great deal of 
practice; I know I can't manage it.

Brythonic, or P-Celtic, is the Celtic language branch which includes 
Welsh, Cornish and Breton, as distinct from the Q-Celtic branch (Gaelic - 
Irish, Scots and Manx).

The horned Viking helmet is based almost entirely on a single image on 
the upper left-hand corner of the Oseberg Tapestry.

King Solomon's Naquadah Mines is a story I intend to write soon.

Jelling is pronounced 'yelling'.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: 'When I say "You made me" you gotta say "I made you". 
How childish can you get?'
     - The Joker, "Batman"

The usual thanks go to my beta-reader, Sho, who is now claiming that it's 
my fault that she writes fan-fiction.

The Prophet, 13th July 2002


                         *******************

Tears of a Clown

Monday

Major Samantha Carter was in the main lab at the SGC, studying some of 
the remains of the Goa'uld Ha'kal vessel recovered from the ruins of 
General Keyes' Atum Base when the phone call came. SG-1 were on three 
weeks' leave from field assignments, and Sam was taking the opportunity 
to catch up on some lab work. Teal'c was instructing a course on Jaffa 
combat techniques and battle tactics for new SGC recruits, and Jack and 
Daniel had gone to Newfoundland with Cassandra.

Sam picked up the phone, recognising from the ring tone that this was an 
unsecured outside line. "Major Carter," she said, omitting all mention of 
the SGC from her greeting.

"Sam?" A girl's quavering voice came from the telephone.

"Cassie?"

"Sam...they're gone. They just...they're gone."

"Cassie. Slow down," Sam said, her tone as gentle as she could manage 
through her rising panic. "Who're gone?"

"Jack. And Daniel," Cassandra replied. "They've vanished."

                         *******************

Three days earlier.

Friday.

"I'm booored!"

Daniel Jackson winced at the twentieth refrain today of his new least-
favourite song: The Ballad of Cassandra on Vacation. He was trying to 
read his mail, but was finding it hard going.

"Hey, Campers!" Jack called from the front hall, drawing a sigh of relief 
from the weary archaeologist.

"Hi, Jack!" Cassie called back, momentarily diverted from her boredom. 
"What happened to the dirty weekend?"

Jack cringed as he entered, carrying a large plastic bag and an aroma of 
fish. Daniel felt his pain.

"It wasn't a dirty weekend," Jack corrected. "It was a fishing trip."

Cassie smiled, innocently. "Mud, water, fish. Sounds pretty dirty to me."

"Yeah, well...Why are you purple?"

"I was bored," Cassandra replied, defiantly, running a hand through her 
hair.

"She was bored," Daniel acknowledged.

Jack stared at the deep purple hue that had replaced Cassie's usual 
blonde colouring. "Janet is going to kill you; you know that, don't you?"

"It's all natural, and I thought you and Jacqueline were getting on 
well," Daniel said, changing the subject. Since learning of their shared 
passion for fishing, Jack had been letting the SGC diplomat, Jacqueline 
Rede, use his cabin when he wasn't there. As both had this weekend off, 
they had decided to take a joint trip. Unlike Cassie, Daniel had no 
doubts that they were just friends: Even had Jack been interested, Rede 
seemed to have her eye on Jacob Carter.

"We were," Jack agreed. "Until I found out that she..." He paused, 
shuddering. "Catches fish."

Daniel grinned. He knew from Teal'c just how small a part the actual fish 
played in Jack's definition of fishing.

Jack reached into the bag, and produced a large and glistening fish. "So; 
bass okay for dinner?"

                         *******************

Dinner that night was the high-point of Cassandra's vacation so far. As 
though by some sinister conspiracy, all of her school friends were 
overseas with their families for at least the next week, and her mother 
was away for a fortnight; five nights at a big medical conference, 
followed by visiting old friends. Cassie had declined to join Dr Fraiser 
on her trip, deciding it would be boring and she would rather stay back 
and hang out with her friends. That was before she found out that 
everyone else was going away of course, and afterwards she could not go 
crawling back and ask to be taken along after all; not if she wanted to 
keep her teenage dignity.

Daniel had agreed to housesit for Janet, and keep an eye on Cassandra. 
Naturally, this was humiliating for Cassie, but Daniel was pretty cool, 
and he did his best not to crowd her. Cassandra was fairly sure that if 
her friends *had* been around, he would have turned a blind eye if she'd 
been out late, or even got a little drunk, but there just was no 
opportunity. Daniel had even tried to interest her in some work he was 
doing, but while archaeology was fun, at Daniel's level it was all a 
little dense for her taste.

'But' seemed to be the watchword of her vacation: I could do such-and-
such, *but*...

At least Daniel made no attempt to 'relate' to her, and nose into what 
she liked doing. That was okay when Mom did it - it was embarrassing, but 
part of the whole 'parent' deal - but just weird from other grown-ups. 
And he had let her henna her hair, although he baulked at letting her 
experiment with the more vivid magenta dye she had her eye on.

Jack showing up was new, and a welcome change of pace for both Daniel and 
Cassie. Sam and Teal'c had both sent apologies, and Cassie was glad of 
that. She would see Sam on Saturday anyway, and with all four of them 
present, it would have been too easy for the kid to get edged out of the 
grown-up conversation.

The bass was also excellent, despite Jack's attempt to spoil the meal by 
explaining in unnecessary detail how leaving the guts in the fish until 
right before you cooked it added to the flavour. Apparently he had many 
more fish at home in his freezer now, and had fled the fishing trip when 
it became clear that Jacqueline Rede's approach to the hobby was far more 
aggressive than his. It was hard for him to relax, he explained, when the 
woman was wrestling violently with her latest victim for an hour in every 
three.

"I got a letter from an old friend today," Daniel mentioned, over ice 
cream. "She's on a dig in Vinland which she says might interest me. If 
you like," he told Cassie. "We could go up and pay a visit."

"Is that a good idea?" Jack asked. "I mean, when Dr Fraiser asked you to 
take care of Cassie, she probably didn't mean for you to take her to 
Scandinavia."

Daniel shared a look with Cassie before responding. "Vinland, Jack; not 
Finland. It's a tenth-century Viking settlement in Newfoundland."

"I knew that."

"It is still in another country," Daniel admitted. "But Cassie's sixteen, 
and if we okay it with Janet, and get General Hammond to pull some 
strings..."

"I'm not sure the General would appreciate being asked to use his 
priority access to take a teenager on holiday to Canada," Jack cautioned. 
"See," he added, in an aside to Cassie. "I know where Newfoundland is."

"It's okay," Cassie said, smiling. "I'm not too keen on going to Vinland 
anyway. I'd only cramp Daniel's style with his 'old friend'," she told 
Jack, confidentially.

"I just thought..." Daniel began. "Well, there's usually a lot of diggers 
from the local schools on these projects; people your age."

Cassandra's interest perked up.

"If nothing else, she's got a son who's sixteen." Daniel stood, and 
snatched an envelope from the dresser. He took out a photograph and 
showed it to Cassandra. "See."

The photograph showed a red-haired woman, about the same age as Daniel 
and Sam, standing by a boy of about twelve. He had the same hair as his 
mother, and at least at that age had been a good-looking boy. Even from a 
photograph there was something a little disconcerting about his eyes, but 
cute was cute...

"Could be fun," she allowed, slyly.

                         *******************

Saturday.

Cassandra had never been outside of the United States before - at least 
not since she had been living on Earth - so going to Canada was exciting 
for her, even if only to look at old things in holes.

"So, what kind of a name is Angharad?" Cassandra asked Daniel, as they 
left the terminal at St Anthony. His 'old friend', Dr Angharad Midhir, 
was supposed to be meeting them.

"It's a Welsh name," Daniel replied. "It means 'well-loved'."

"Why do names always have to have a meaning?" Jack demanded, following 
them out. "Jack doesn't have a meaning."

"Sure it does," Daniel replied. "It means 'God has shown favour'; aptly 
enough."

Jack assayed an offended expression. "Meaning?" He demanded.

"Just that you're lucky," Daniel assured him.

"Okay. So what about Flew?" Cassandra asked, interrupting the banter.

"Llew," Daniel corrected, enunciating the aspirated Brythonic double-l 
perfectly. "It means light, or fair."

"Flew," Cassandra tried again. "Chlew; no...Llew." She looked up, 
happily. "Llew. I think I've got it!"

"It'll do," a soft, lilting voice assured her.

Daniel turned, and took in the tall, sun-tanned figure standing near to 
them. "Annie!" He exclaimed.

"Danny!" She responded, and they clasped each other in a warm hug. "Gods, 
but it's been an age and more."

"Lifetimes," Daniel replied, more literally than Angharad could know. He 
held her off at arms' length and they gave each other the requisite 
inspection. "Looking good," he told her.

"And you," she replied. "I see you've been getting out in the field." She 
squeezed his biceps, briefly. "Mucking in with the work, too," she added, 
impressed.

"Well you've hardly been letting yourself go. How's Llew?"

"He's...Llew," Angharad replied. "But he's well. And who are these."

"Oh; this is Jack O'Neill; we work together."

"Pleasure," Jack said, shaking the archaeologist by the hand.

"Likewise."

"And this is Cassandra Fraiser. She's..."

"Purple?" Angharad hazarded, grinning at Cassie. "Welcome to Vinland, 
Cassandra."

"Thanks," Cassandra replied, taking her first good look at the woman. She 
had bright, cheerful brown eyes, to match her broad, infectious smile. 
Her dark red hair was pulled back into a thick ponytail, away from her 
tanned and muddied face and neck. She was dressed in combat trousers and 
a loose t-shirt, with a chunky lumberjack shirt pulled on against the 
cold, but left open. The pants and t-shirt were streaked with mud and 
dirt. Around her neck, Cassandra was startled to see that Angharad 
wore...

"Mjollnir," Angharad said.

"Pardon?"

"It's not an inverted crucifix," Angharad assured her. "It's a Mjollnir 
pendant; the hammer of Thor. A lot of people make that mistake," she 
added, kindly, as Cassie began to stammer a protest.

"Boy, is my face red," Jack admitted.

"Don't let it worry you. Happens all the time."

Daniel grinned. "Do you remember that girl, Karen?"

"The heavy metal Satanist?" Angharad replied. "Yeah; I remember her."

Daniel turned to Cassandra and Jack. "She wore an inverted pentagram 
around her neck," he explained. "People always asked if she was Jewish."

Jack smiled, feeling a little awkward, and keenly aware that there was 
more history between these two than just old friendship.

"The car's out front," Angharad told them. "There's not much traffic 
hereabouts, so I left it in the white zone." She led them out to the 
loading area, and to a battered old jeep. "So; what's your field, Dr 
O'Neill?" She asked.

Jack made his startled face. "Oh. It's Colonel; actually," he said. "And 
I'm...more of an enthusiast than a professional."

"Me too," Cassandra added.

"So what's with the hammer?" Jack asked.

"I'm Asatru," Angharad replied.

"A Pagan, worshipping the Æsir; the old Norse gods," Daniel explained, in 
response to Jack's desperate glance.

"Good choice," Jack said, approvingly. "Better them than the Egyptian 
ones anyway."

"Or the Indian," Cassandra said, shuddering.

Angharad looked at the two of them, questioningly.

"Private...joke," Jack told her. "You kinda had to be there."

Angharad shrugged, and climbed up behind the wheel. "Buckle up," she 
advised. "I drive fast."

                         *******************

Angharad Midhir's dig was in a field, a short distance outside the town 
of St Anthony, and some miles inland of the main Viking site at L'Anse 
aux Meadows. In the centre of the field, a huge tent had been erected to 
protect the excavation from the rain and the wind, and from prying eyes.

"How did this site turn up?" Daniel asked Angharad.

"I don't want to tell you," the woman replied. "You'd laugh."

"Me? The man who stated publicly that the pyramids were alien landing 
platforms?"

Angharad relented. "Llew found it," she said. "Dowsed it."

"Doused it?" Jack asked, baffled. "He got it wet?"

"Dowsed," Angharad repeated. "He sensed the presence of the site under 
the ground when we were visiting L'Anse aux Meadows."

"Oh. How very...scientific."

Angharad smiled at Daniel, taking his arm. "You brought me a sceptic," 
she said, laughing. "How sweet."

"You don't feel it then?" Cassandra asked Jack, as the two archaeologists 
moved ahead, eager to reach the site.

"Feel what?"

Cassandra shook her head. "I don't know," she admitted. "Something 
though."

Under the tent, small teams of diggers worked in trenches three to six 
feet deep. At the heart of the dig however, a massive square trench had 
been sunk, uncovering a large, stone structure. The structure was almost 
twenty feet high and square-planned; thirty-feet along the base of each 
wall, tapering to twenty along each side of the roof. On one side was a 
rectangular doorway, framed by pillars and a lintel-stone, and flanked by 
two demi-pylons, jutting from the stone.

"That's not Viking," Daniel said, as soon as he saw it.

"You recognise it?" Angharad asked.

"It looks like an Egyptian funerary temple," Daniel replied.

Angharad nodded. "Come and take a closer look," she invited, and the two 
of them clambered down a ladder, into the trench, leaving Jack and 
Cassandra behind.

"I guess we just find ways to amuse ourselves then," Jack said to 
Cassandra.

"Hmm," Cassandra replied, distractedly. As Daniel had promised, there 
were a number of people her age on the site, mostly digging and 
barrowing, and she was rapidly losing interest in adult company. She 
looked around, and a lone figure caught her eye.

From the shock of auburn hair, she knew at once that he must be Llew 
Midhir, but that was not what drew her attention. Rather, she noted a 
sense of stillness and distance about him, as though he were apart from 
the world around him. Cassandra was not a girl given to feelings or 
intuition - whether she was supposed to be a step on the road to Nirrti's 
psychic Übermensch or not - but she had a distinct impression of 
*something* uncanny about the boy.

Leaving Jack standing alone, she walked over to the tall youth. Before 
she could hail him, he turned to face her. He had matured well since the 
photograph that Daniel had shown her - enough so that it might have been 
hard to be sure that he was the same boy - but as well as the hair, the 
eyes were the same. They were penetrating eyes; not in some smouldering, 
heart-throbby, Mills & Boon sense, but in that they seemed to look right 
through her in an unfocused and disconcerting fashion, as though she were 
somehow unreal. Cassie had heard an expression once that described a gaze 
like his: A thousand-yard stare.

The fact that she usually heard that phrase attached to images of shell-
shocked teenagers in the Vietnam War was kind of disturbing.

"Hi," she said, when he stayed silent. "I'm Cassandra Fraiser."

Llew shook his head, although waking from some kind of trance. "Hello, 
Cassandra," he said, distractedly, with the same lilting accent as his 
mother; Welsh, she guessed. "I'm Llew," he added, after a long moment. 
"Llew Midhir."

"I figured," she replied. "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No. Nothing important." He shook his head again, and his eyes cleared 
somewhat. "You're...?"

"Purple," Cassandra interrupted. "I know. It seemed a good idea at the 
time."

"I was going to say, you're here with Dr Jackson?"

Cassandra blushed. "Oh. That's right," she replied. "Mom dumped me on him 
- or him on me; I'm not really sure."

Llew smiled at that, then: "You have the most incredible aura," he told 
her.

Cassandra was taken aback somewhat, unsure how to respond. Was that a 
compliment?

"Who's your friend, Cassandra?" Jack asked, strolling up behind her, a 
protective edge to his voice.

Cassie could have died. She loved her surrogate family dearly, but 
sometimes it could be like she had two mothers and three fathers. Three 
big fathers. "This is Llew Midhir," she said, gritting her teeth.

"Hey, Lou," Jack said. If Llew took offence at Jack's poor pronunciation, 
he made no sign.

"Llew, this is Jack O'Neill; a friend of my mother."

Llew turned his gaze to Jack, and smiled. "Pleased to meet you, sir," he 
said. "If there's anything you need while you're here, just ask."

"Llew," Cassandra said. "Maybe you could show me around the site. And I'm 
sure Jack would like to sit down somewhere; rest that bad knee?" She 
suggested, pointedly.

"I don't have a bad knee," Jack assured her.

"Well...why don't I show you both around?" Llew offered, warily.

"Sounds great," Jack replied. "My knee is fine," he insisted, off 
Cassie's scowl.

The girl narrowed her eyes, dangerously. "Arrangements can be made."

                         *******************


Daniel walked slowly around the base of the tomb-temple, examining the 
carvings in wonder.

"This is...incredible," he said.

"Tell me about it," Angharad agreed. "An Egyptian structure, in 
Newfoundland, covered in Icelandic runic inscriptions."

"References to a goddess," Daniel said. "I think the same one all the way 
around, but there are no names. Just this: 'She who in time shall rule 
all'; are you familiar with that pseudonym?"

Angharad shook her head. "Means nothing to me; and don't think I haven't 
looked. Aside from a few references to H. Rider-Haggard and 'She Who Must 
Be Obeyed', there's nothing I can find like it anywhere."

Daniel shuddered inwardly, remembering his own encounter with the 
powerful and cruel Goa'uld Queen Ayesha, but hid the reaction from 
Angharad.

"I'll tell you what, though," she said. "That still isn't the most 
exciting part of this find."

"It's not?"

"Nuh-uh. Come see the incident room; I'll show you."

The incident room for the dig was a portacabin, where finds and log books 
could be shielded from the elements. Angharad booted up a laptop 
computer, and showed Daniel a site plan, with all of the finds mapped 
onto it.

"Okay," she said. "Now the stratigraphy in this area around the tomb was 
well-preserved; no significant shifting or interpenetration of the 
layers."

"Okay," Daniel said. "So any finds from the level around the foot of the 
tomb should be roughly concurrent with it."

"Exactly. Now among those finds are several posts - fashioned from local 
wood - which seem to have formed a boundary enclosure around the temple. 
We dated those using dendrochronology, and look at the results."

Daniel took the log book that Angharad was offering, and studied the 
dates. "This can't be right," he said.

"I thought so at first, but all of the posts came back the same," 
Angharad insisted. "The temple was erected in the *twelfth century*, and 
we can tentatively show occupation by Nordic people as late as 1217 by 
the tree-rings."

"The Vinland settlement was abandoned by the turn of the eleventh 
century," Daniel insisted.

"I know," Angharad agreed. "But this is real, Danny! This is a Nordic 
settlement - with Egyptian influences - that outlasts the Vinland colony 
by over a century." She studied Daniel's face, intently. "You don't seem 
excited," she said, disappointed.

"I am, Annie," Daniel replied, honestly. "But I'm worried as well. Do you 
remember Sarah Gardner?"

"The chippie you dumped me for when I went off to dig in Scandinavia 
instead of Egypt? Yeah I remember her," she added, her hostility 
relenting at the look of pain on his face. "Danny?"

"She and Dr Jordan found something; something that went a long way 
towards proving some of my theories. They both died because of it," he 
told her, bitterly.

"Oh, Daniel. I'm so sorry." Angharad reached out, and laid a comforting 
hand on Daniel's arm.

Daniel flushed, awkwardly, hating the fact that he had to lie to 
Angharad. "It's probably silly, but...I'm afraid of the same thing 
happening to you."

Angharad smiled, softly. "I have a shrine to Thor in my trailer; I'm not 
going to be the one to mock you for being superstitious," she assured 
him.

"People...have a tendency to die around me," Daniel said, wanting to say 
more, but constrained by the secrecy that surrounded his job.

Angharad's eyes clouded with concern. "Don't worry about me," she assured 
him, touching her amulet. "I'm protected."

Daniel smiled, mutely; not trusting himself to speak.

                         *******************

Jack was feeling somewhat like a fifth wheel. When he asked Daniel if he 
could join the trip to Newfoundland, it had seemed like a good idea, the 
alternatives being to listen to Carter talk about naquadah for a week, 
watch the Sci-Fi Channel with Teal'c, or go back to Minnesota, and Jack 
the Piscatorial Ripper. Almost as soon as they arrived, however, he 
remembered why it was that he never liked going on archaeological 
missions.

Llew Midhir had shown he and Cassie around the site, and Jack now felt 
privileged to have seen the larval stage of Daniel Jackson in its native 
environment. Llew seemed a decent enough kid, but he was vague and 
absent-minded in almost exactly the same way that Daniel was. He wore a 
pendant; a spade-shaped emblem, quite different from his mother's 
Mjollnir, but that Jack recognised from Cimmeria as Thor's Hammer. If he 
was another Æsir worshipper, and if he really did claim to have unearthed 
this site by psychic means, then he probably had about as much of an 
academic career to look forward to as Daniel, only without any chance of 
finding employment with the SGC.

The kid's explanations of what was going on at the site were deeply 
involved, and made little sense to Jack. Cassandra had carefully 
questioned him on points that she did not understand, drawing out the 
less technical version - a skill that he assumed one would have to 
develop if Daniel was ever your babysitter - but even those 
clarifications had been all Norse to Jack. Some of the other diggers had 
chipped in, and done nothing to help Jack's understanding of events.

He was in two minds about sticking with Cassie. On the one hand, she 
would find it easier to talk to the other high school kids on the site 
without him, and besides, he was starting to feel old. On the other hand, 
he knew the kind of looks some of those kids were shooting in Cassie's 
direction, and dreaded to think what might happen if he were not around 
to glower at them.

"Dr O'Neill," Llew said, quietly.

"It's Colonel," Jack corrected, again. "But thanks for pretending I don't 
look completely lost."

Llew smiled. "I just wanted to say, if you'd rather hang out with the 
other grown-ups, I can look out for Cassandra for you."

"That's very kind of you," Jack replied, suspiciously.

"It's not much to do," Llew assured him, grinning. "You've scared most of 
the guys off already. If you're worried about me, I give you my word I 
won't try anything," he added.

"I still remember being a teenager too well for that," Jack assured him, 
but he was wavering. "Okay," he said. "But I'll hold you responsible..."

"I can live with that," Llew promised.

Somewhat reassured - the kid seemed decent enough - Jack went off in 
search of Daniel.

                         *******************

"God," Cassandra sighed. "I never thought he'd stop following me. It's 
like no one trusts me to make my own decisions."

"Welcome to adolescence." Llew looked after Jack's retreating figure. 
"And he does trust you; he just worries. He needed some kind of 
reassurance is all."

"And you know this from meeting him once?"

Llew shrugged. "Isn't it obvious?"

"You read it in his aura?" Cassandra asked, casually.

"Didn't have to," Llew replied.

Oblique hints not working, Cassandra took the bull by the horns. "You 
said my aura was...incredible. What did you mean?"

"It's just..." Llew waved his hand, searching for words to describe the 
indescribable. "I've never seen anything like it."

"So you see auras?"

"Well...see is the wrong word. I *sense* things. I can't really explain 
it; I've always done it, ever since I was a kid."

"So, what? You know what people are feeling?"

"Not exactly," Llew replied, still struggling for the words. "It's not 
that precise; or that useful," he added. "But I can often tell what kind 
of a place someone's from, and the kind of place they'd be given the 
choice."

"Example?"

"Well...Jack there," Llew said, gazing at the retreating figure. "I'd say 
he's from the city, but he doesn't care for company much; not in the 
wider sense. Not exactly a loner, but he doesn't let many people get 
close. I'd also say he's a man of action, but he likes the quiet. Kind of 
a barrel of contradictions; like most people."

"Pretty good, Cassandra admitted. "So what about me?"

"You..." He paused. "Well, you're something of a mystery. Young people 
are less set in their ways than older people, which always makes them 
harder to get a handle on. But I'd say you come from...not exactly the 
country, but not a big city either. Your roots are spiritual, but you're 
very much a rationalist."

"Believe me, I have reasons," Cassandra assured him.

Llew smiled at her. "There's also something...otherworldly about you," he 
said.

Cassandra turned her head to hide a secretive smile.

                         *******************

Jack found Daniel standing at the sealed front door to the structure, 
scribbling on a commandeered notepad. The archaeologist's face was fixed 
in an expression of concentration that Jack knew only too well. It was 
the look that usually meant staying at least another three days on 
whatever godforsaken rock Daniel had found a cartouche, or a stela, or a 
flint arrowhead.

"So what do you reckon?" Jack asked. "Goa'uld? Asgard? Or good old-
fashioned human architecture?"

"Hmm?" Daniel looked up at Jack, registering his presence. "Well, I think 
the workmanship on the temple is certainly human. The language is Norse - 
Medieval Icelandic, to be exact - not the original Asgard, and the design 
has strong Egyptian elements, but it isn't Egyptian. At the time this was 
constructed, the only people supposed to be living here were indigenous 
tribes. There are contemporary Viking artefacts, which is weird, because 
at the time there really weren't any Vikings anymore; not even back in 
the motherland. It's like there was a single village, for whom the whole 
eleventh century never happened."

Jack nodded. "So what do you reckon? Goa'uld? Asgard? Or..."

"Annie!" Daniel called out, interrupting Jack as Angharad rounded the 
corner of the structure.

"Dr Meer," Jack greeted her.

"Angharad, please," she insisted, with a smile. "Dr Midhir is my father."

Jack smiled back. "Alright, Anharad, although you know I was just trying 
to avoid having to pronounce it."

"Well, you're mangling my family name as is," she noted, smiling broadly. 
"How about Annie?"

"Sounds fine, Arnie," Jack said.

Angharad grinned. "So what do you make of our site?" She asked.

"Well..." Jack began. "It seems very nice. Very orderly, and..."

"Not having much fun?" Daniel asked.

"That obvious?"

"Only to the living," Angharad assured him. "If you want something to do, 
we can always use some more muscular slaves...I mean, diggers, in the 
trenches. I can assign one of the postgrads to keep an eye on you?"

"Well, as much fun as it sounds to dig holes under the supervision of a 
twenty-five year old with more education than me...I've nothing better to 
do," he confessed.

"Come on then," she said. "We'll get you a mattock."

                         *******************

Jack arched his back, pressing his fist into his spine to try and relieve 
the dull ache.

"Not used to the work?" Mary, his supervisor asked.

Jack grimaced. "The muscular slave gig? It's old hat to me, but every 
time I have to do something like this, I think I should be used to it. 
But I never am."

"You'll get back in the swing in no time." Mary assured him, with a 
smile. She was a mature grad student with Memorial University's 
Anthropology Department; a handsome, dark-haired Canadian in her early 
thirties, possibly with some Native American blood. It was nine o'clock, 
and she and Jack were sitting with the younger supervisors - Tamsin and 
John, an intensely coupley couple - around a fire some distance from the 
site. Their tents were pitched around a well-banked firepit, while the 
younger students and volunteers camped closer to the site. Angharad's 
trailer was parked right next to the incident room, and Mary explained 
that this was so that Dr Midhir could keep an eye on things overnight.

"What kind of things?" Jack asked.

"It's just in case of site robbers, looking for stuff to sell as 
souvenirs," Tamsin explained, with an air of disgust.

In his first day as an archaeological digger, Jack had gone through about 
three inches of soil, and uncovered a broken clay pot and a flat piece of 
corroded metal. He had thought the latter might be a sword, but Mary had 
tentatively identified as a weaving baton. They were on the edge of the 
site, but Mary thought that they might be excavating the outskirts of a 
burial area. Despite Jack's disappointment, the finds had been very 
exciting for her, and once again Jack was struck by the fact that this 
was the kind of place where they made Daniels.

"I think we might get the top of a skelly on Monday," she told Tamsin and 
John.

"Just the top?" John asked.

"Well, it's at the edge of the trench. We'd need to take it back another 
metre to get to the whole thing, I reckon."

The conversation continued in much this vein, liberally lubricated by 
alcohol, for a few hours. Mostly, Jack found it very dull, but on 
occasion he found himself following the discussion with some interest. He 
was not sure if that should be worrying.

At around half-past-ten, Jack found that Tamsin was offering him a drag 
on a joint, which he politely refused.

"That's really why we camp up here," Mary told him. "We're not supposed 
to smoke on the site; it might bring the University into disrepute."

"So is the whole dig just an excuse to drink and smoke pot?" Jack asked.

Mary shook her head. "Just on Saturday night. We have to get up early 
every day but Sunday, so hangovers are not our friend."

"Are they anyone's?" Jack asked, trying to look anywhere but at Tamsin 
and John, who were now moving into an advanced state of make-out, 
apparently oblivious to their reluctant audience.

"You wanna go for a walk?" Mary asked, scooping up the abandoned joint as 
she stood.

"Yeah; let's."

                         *******************

"My head feels funny," Cassandra said.

"Yep," Llew agreed. "Pot'll do that to you."

They were lying on a hillside, shoulder to shoulder, looking up at the 
night sky. Cassandra was searching through the stars, looking for the one 
which she used to call 'the sun'.

"It's not like I thought," she admitted. "Mom gave me all these talks and 
stuff, but..."

"Well, it's not going to be much of an anti-drugs campaign, is it?" Llew 
noted. He adopted a stuffy, public-information voice, and said: "If 
you're not already depressed, cannabis will make you mellow, and a little 
more creative. It's actually far less harmful or addictive than alcohol 
or nicotine."

Cassandra gave a long, high, giddy laugh. "What was that?" She wondered 
aloud.

"That, Cassie, was you being high."

Cassandra sighed, contentedly. "It's so different," she said.

"What is?"

"That sky," she said. "It's so different from the one I grew up with."

"How so?"

"Well...different stars mostly. Or the same stars, but in a different 
order. See that there," she said, pointing into the sky.

"Which one?" Llew asked, leaning his head in closer to hers.

"Track along Orion's belt to the right and keep going. The brightest star 
in that rather faint cluster."

Llew squinted slightly, following her directions. "I think I see it," he 
said.

"That's home," Cassandra told him. "That's Hanka; well, her sun at least. 
Jack and Sam taught me how to find it."

Llew propped himself on one elbow and looked down at Cassandra, 
quizzically. "Maybe I should have mentioned," he said. "Cannabis also 
makes you chatty."

Cassandra frowned, then shrugged. "Meh. So I probably shouldn't have told 
you that. Can I trust you to keep a secret?"

"Your secret? Like it was my own," he promised, solemnly.

Cassandra turned her head towards him. "That's so sweet."

Llew smiled, and lay back on the grass. "So long as I don't find out 
you're bent on world domination." He added. Then he paused. 
"Well...England you can have, but not Wales. Okay; maybe Swansea."

Cassandra gave vent to another peal of giggles. "Mom's going to kill me 
if she finds out I did drugs," she admitted once she was done laughing. 
"What would yours do?"

Llew laughed. "Mam gave me the bong," he told her. "Didn't want me 
smoking tobacco."

                         *******************

Jack and Mary strolled around the field, while Mary finished off the 
joint. Jack refused each offer of a drag, and was regaled with a lengthy 
discourse on the advantages of cannabis over alcohol.

"Damages your short term memory though," Jack mentioned.

"What does?" Mary asked, grinning. "Come on; let's go say hi to Dr 
Midhir."

Mary led Jack around another of the small hills that dotted the area, and 
they came across a small fire burning in a hollow. Daniel and Angharad 
sat by the fire, talking animatedly, and the scent of cannabis smoke was 
thick in the air.

"You as well?" Jack asked Angharad. "Is everyone on this site stoned?"

"Not on site," Angharad insisted. "I'm very clear on that point."

"Anyway," Daniel said. "Can you think of anything else to do in a 
campsite, miles from anywhere on a Saturday night? Apart from that," he 
added, as Jack opened his mouth to give the obvious reply.

"No pubs? No bars?"

"Not nearby," Angharad replied. "And anyway, I don't like to encourage 
teenage drinking."

"And you're fine with this?" Jack asked Daniel, sitting opposite the two 
archaeologists.

"Jack," Daniel replied. "Right now, I'm fine with just about anything."

"*You're* stoned!" Jack accused, shocked.

"Damn straight. Who's your friend?"

"Daniel Jackson; Mary Lasuip." Mary and Daniel exchanged hellos, and the 
woman sat down, quietly.

"I'd offer you a toke," Angharad assured Jack. "But I'm pretty much out."

"That's...okay," Jack replied. "I'm not sure it would help with this 
culture shock anyway. Daniel..."

"Jack?"

"You're stoned," Jack repeated. "Does this happen often?"

Daniel shrugged. "Not often. Only in company. And not for years now. I 
don't think I've been this stoned since my wedding day."

"You were stoned when you got married? And I thought you were corrupting 
them with your moonshine."

"First wedding," Daniel added. "When I was twenty-three years old."

Jack was momentarily dumbstruck. "What?" He asked, when he had recovered. 
"Who?"

Angharad raised her arm, almost shyly.

"And this is something you never felt needed a mention? In all the years 
we've known each other?"

"How often do we talk about our pasts?" Daniel replied. "I mean, really? 
It was the best part of a year before I found out Sam even had a 
brother."

Jack shrugged his agreement. "Okay. So what happened."

"We were undergrads together," Angharad explained. "Always good friends, 
and in our final year we dated."

"After we graduated," Daniel took up. "We both got places on a dig in 
Egypt with Professor Jordan."

"The same Professor Jordan?"

"The one and only," Daniel replied, fondly; sadly.

"Real chance of a lifetime stuff," Angharad agreed. "But with one major 
snag."

"We'd be working with an Egyptian crew," Daniel explained. "They don't 
take well to unmarried couples, at least not ones who sleep together; and 
they definitely don't think much of single mothers."

"Since neither of us was really comfortable with outright lying about our 
status, we decided to get married," Angharad concluded. "After the dig we 
went our separate ways: He deeper into Egypt, and I to Scandinavia, 
Iceland, Greenland and eventually here."

Jack was taken aback. "So you were divorced when I met you?"

Daniel blushed. "Well, we weren't legally married, so we didn't have to. 
We just exchanged vows, so we could be comfortable saying we were 
married."

"And what? You changed your minds after a year? I may be going senile, 
but legally wed or not, don't the vows say, 'til death do us part?" 
Daniel opened his mouth, but Jack cut him off. "And I know I'm a 
hypocrite, but I'm an honest hypocrite."

Angharad shrugged. "Ours didn't," she told Jack. "We were married for a 
year in a pagan ceremony. It's an ancient custom; to see how marriage 
fits on you."

"And it didn't?"

Daniel see-sawed his hand. "It was good," he said. "But we wanted 
different things; in our work and in our lives. The plan was to see how 
things were in a year, and then a year after that, until we were ready to 
commit full-time, or one of us called it a day."

"It took six months before he was shacked up with a new skirt," Angharad 
added. "Which is better than some I've known."

Daniel looked awkward.

"Don't fret," she said. "The long distance thing was killing me anyway. 
All you did was save me the guilt of having to dump you."

"Thirteen years ago, it would have been a huge help to know that," Daniel 
told her.

"I have to ask," Jack said. "Is Llew..."

"No!" Angharad snapped, sharply. "I mean, no. I was pregnant with him 
when I met Daniel. Not something I planned on, although I don't regret 
having him."

A new brittleness had slipped into Angharad's voice as she spoke, and 
Daniel put his hand in hers and gave a gentle squeeze. Jack let the 
matter drop.

                         *******************

Sunday.

Sunday was a slow day for Jack. The diggers took the day off, while 
Daniel and Angharad fussed over translations and cross-references.

Mary drove Jack and Cassie up to L'Anse aux Meadows to look at the Viking 
remains there, with Llew tagging along. Jack found it almost as dull as 
the sitting through one of Daniel's briefings, only much colder, and he 
was distracted by the fact that Cassandra was showing signs of being far 
too close to Llew for comfort. Jack's own adolescence might be the stuff 
of history books, but he still remembered that things happened between 
teenagers, and if they did, he was pretty sure Dr Fraiser would not be 
taking: 'it was legal in Canada', for an excuse. He also had no doubts 
that she would know - somehow - and that she would blame Jack and Daniel 
for not looking after Cassie.

Having a CMO hate your guts was never a good place to be.

It didn't help his state of mind that Cassandra was clearly being nervous 
and secretive about *something*. For his part, Llew assured Daniel - who 
assured Jack - that his intentions were honourable, but Jack had long 
since learned not to trust too much in intentions.

                         *******************

Monday.

On Monday morning, Angharad announced to the assembled diggers that she 
had decided to open the tomb. With Daniel's help, she had discerned that 
it could be pulled free with ropes, if they drilled a number of bolts 
into the slab, and they intended to proceed at once. While John was 
drilling the bolt holes, Daniel took Jack aside.

"Did you by any chance..." Daniel paused, awkwardly, as if embarrassed to 
be asking. "Smuggle a gun through customs?"

"Just a zat," Jack replied, defensively.

"No; that's good," Daniel assured him. "I've got a bad feeling about this 
tomb, and I'd like you to come in with us when it's opened."

"Okay," Jack agreed. "What sort of bad?"

"I don't know," Daniel protested. "It's just a feeling. But the temple 
seems to be dedicated to 'She who in time shall rule all' and it has 
Egyptian design elements, so I'm starting to get that nasty, crunchy 
feeling in the back of my neck."

"Sounds about right," Jack agreed. "Zat's in my tent."

"Take your time. That slab's not coming down until midday at least."

                         *******************

Cassandra and Llew watched as the bolts were inserted into the heavy 
slab. Llew was sitting on the edge of the trench, but Cassie was 
standing, not wanting to get mud on her jeans. After a while, Llew 
wordlessly spread his coat on the ground next to him, and Cassie sat.

"So what do they expect to find in there?" She asked.

Llew shrugged. "I'm not sure. Mam thinks it's probably a tomb, or 
possibly a tomb entrance, but Dr Jackson...he looks nervous; almost 
afraid."

Cassandra shivered, and Llew put an arm around her shoulders. It was not 
the cold that had provoked the reaction, but she made no complaint.

"Do you think there's something in there to be scared of?" Llew asked.

"I don't..." She hazarded. "There could be," she allowed. "I don't know 
the details - everyone tries to protect me from things - but I know one 
of Daniel's friends was killed last year."

"Sarah Gardner," Llew replied. "Mam mentioned it. But that was a dig in 
Egypt, surely?"

"There are bad things out there," Cassandra cautioned, barely hiding her 
fear. Since the time when Nirrti had managed to reach her in the SGC 
complex itself, she had some difficulty feeling safe anywhere when the 
subject of the Goa'uld came up.

Llew nodded, slowly. Then he lifted the Mjollnir pendant from his neck, 
and gently hung it around Cassie's. "I think you could use the protection 
more than me just at the moment," he said.

                         *******************

A line of students hauled on each of the two ropes, with Jack and Daniel 
heading up the effort.

"Is it moving?" Jack asked.

"Not a hope!" Mary called from beside the door. "This is just an excuse 
to get you two shirtless."

"It's going," Cassandra assured him. "One more good pull."

"Okay," Angharad said, from behind Daniel. "Once more. One, two, three; 
pull!"

The ropes snapped taut, as the students pressed back, and with a dull 
crash, the slab came free of the doorway and fell forward onto its face, 
bending the iron bolts beneath it. The students set up a cheer, as Daniel 
stepped forward to examine the doorway. Jack picked up his shirt and 
pulled it on over his vest, feeling the chill of the wind as the sweat on 
his arms cooled.

"Look at this," Daniel called to Angharad.

The woman stepped over to him, donning her lumberjack shirt, and handing 
Daniel his jacket. "You'll catch your death," she told him, crouching 
beside him and resting a familiar hand on his shoulder.

Daniel smiled his thanks and put the jacket on. "See here," he said, 
pointing. "The edge of the doorway, where the slab touched."

"It's so smooth," Angharad said, thoughtfully. "After so long, there 
should be some sign of corrosion. Unless the tomb were completely 
sealed."

"Which it wasn't," Daniel added. "Or we'd never have got the slab out so 
easily."

"Water's been in here," Angharad noted. There's staining on the floor, 
some slight erosion on the edges of the slab itself, but this..."

"Is no ordinary stone," Daniel finished, with a significant glance at 
Jack.

"This just gets better and better," Angharad breathed, which was not 
quite Daniel's sentiment. She took a torch from her tool belt and flicked 
it on, casting the beam around the inside of the chamber.

"But why would the slab be ordinary stone?" Cassie asked. "I mean, why 
make the doorway out of super-rock, but the door regular...whatever stone 
it is?"

"Granite," Daniel told her. "Maybe the slab wasn't built at the same time 
as the rest of the structure," he suggested. "It's not local stone, is 
it?"

Angharad shook her head. "We're on limestone."

"Dr Midhir!" Mary called out. "Come look!" Angharad and Daniel hurried to 
the slab, to see what had excited the woman so much. "See," she said. "On 
the *inside* of the slab."

"Oh my gods," Angharad whispered.

"More exciting pots?" Jack asked.

"Better than that," Daniel said, pointing to the deeply scratched 
markings on the back of the slab.

"That's what you're excited about? Isn't there more of that stuff all 
over the walls?"

Daniel and Angharad shared a despairing look. "Like this, sure," Daniel 
allowed, pointing to a block of runic text. Then he indicated the 
markings surrounding it. "But not like this."

Jack squinted at the designs. "What is that? Looks like really badly 
drawn hieroglyphics."

"They're Mi'kmaq totemic drawings," Mary told him, sternly.

"Mick who?"

"The Mi'kmaq," Mary repeated. "The tribe who were indigenous to this 
area."

"Mary's our site expert on ancient Mi'kmaq culture," Angharad told 
Daniel, causing the woman to blush.

"I wouldn't say expert. I'm not sure anyone is these days; so much of the 
culture was wiped out by the church before anyone started documenting it. 
But I know a little, and my grandfather was Mi'kmaq."

"So do these mean the same as the runic text?" Angharad asked.

"Uh-huh. Designs like these would be sketched by the 'puoin' - the shaman 
- to ward off evil spirits. Although the Mi'kmaq don't usually do 
anything so...indelible."

"So what we have here," Daniel said. "Is a Mi'kmaq 'puoin,' working with 
a Viking craftsman to create a ward against evil spirits on the *inside* 
of a granite seal."

"But the Viking settlers and the locals hated each other," Angharad said. 
"We know that."

"Maybe not this lot; or not at first. Maybe that's why they stayed here 
so long?"

Angharad beamed with excitement. "Whatever the reason, they must have 
feared the structure, and whatever was supposed to be in it."

Daniel shared a worried look with Jack.

"I can't wait to see what got them so scared." Angharad said. "Shall we?"

"Let's," Daniel agreed, although a trifle reluctant.

Angharad turned back to the diggers. "John; stay up here, and if anything 
happens, call emergency services. Mary; measure up the slab, and try to 
work out how tightly it was fitted into here. See if you can get a 
material analysis sample from the frame; then you can see what parallels 
you can find for the inscription." Mary nodded, clearly as excited as her 
boss. "Jack, Cassandra; would you care to join us?"

Both nodded their thanks, Jack resting his hand on the pocket of his 
borrowed tool belt which concealed his zat'nik'tel. He was uneasy with 
the idea of Cassandra venturing in to what could possibly be a Goa'uld's 
resting place, but then the alternative was to leave her alone on the 
surface with Llew, and risk answering for the consequences.

"You seem tense?" Llew told Jack. The boy seemed to be taking it as read 
that he was coming into the tomb as well.

"Just excited to be a part of this," Jack assured him.

Daniel and Angharad led the way into the dark interior of the tomb. 
Angharad slid open the sides of her torch, converting it into an electric 
lantern which cast light all around them, and through their shadows 
eerily onto the dark walls.

Immediately inside the doorway was a plain and unadorned antechamber, 
some ten feet wide and fifteen long, and a second doorway, this unsealed. 
Beyond the second door was a corridor, the floor of which inclined 
steeply downwards. The walls of this passage were decorated with murals, 
depicting stylised humans in dragon-headed longships, and a horned figure 
dancing before a great stone.

"Okay," Daniel said. "This is weird."

"Ya think?" Jack asked.

Daniel ignored the facetious tone. "Well, these are Vikings, depicted in 
Egyptian style. All profile, standardised proportions, formulaic 
gestures."

"And look at this," Angharad said, pointing to the horned dancer.

"What do you think?" Daniel asked. "A god?"

"He couldn't just be a guy in a horned helmet?" Jack suggested.

"Vikings didn't wear horned helmets," Daniel told him. "That whole idea 
comes from one picture on one tapestry, almost certainly representing 
either Odin or an Odin cultist performing some ritual role."

"This looks like the latter to me," Angharad admitted. "I think the stone 
is an altar. Look; where the paint has been scraped away."

"More like gouged," Daniel noted. "As though..."

Angharad nodded. "As though they were removing the name of something that 
they did not want named."

Jack suppressed a shiver. "Okay; now I've been hanging around with you 
long enough to know that that's not good, right?" He asked Daniel.

"No. It means that whoever this temple was dedicated to fell out of 
favour, and whatever came after was so scared that they tried to remove 
all traces of it. That description - She who in time will rule all - was 
left, but the name obliterated wherever it occurred."

They went further in, following the passage down and around a sharp u-
turn. As they went on, they found more and more traces of deliberate 
destruction in the decoration.

"So why not just destroy the murals outright?" Cassandra asked, 
nervously.

"If the image remains, but unnamed, then it traps and torments the 
spirit," Llew replied. He was plainly as jittery as Cassandra, and, the 
girl guessed, for the same reasons. As they followed the passage further 
and further underground, the sense of power which they had both felt on 
the surface grew stronger and stronger. Cassandra was just wondering if 
it would be inexcusably weak and girly to take Llew's hand for support, 
when she felt him reach out to her. They were both trembling.

"There's something down there," Cassandra whispered.

"I feel it too," Llew assured her.

"Are you two okay?" Jack asked, concerned.

"We're okay," Cassie returned. "But...keep on your toes."

"I always do," Jack replied, feigning offence at the implication he might 
let his guard down.

On the walls, the scenes were becoming more bizarre, with skeletal 
figures bowing reverently before a female figure. As in the passage 
above, much of the writing had been scraped away.

"I like the idea of 'She who will in time rule all', less and less," 
Daniel admitted.

"You think that's her?" Jack asked, gesturing at the figure of worship.

Daniel nodded. "I think so. If I'm not mistaken, that's Hel."

Jack nodded. "And who's the woman?"

"Hel," Angharad repeated. "One 'l'; the Norse goddess of death. All 
unworthy men, and all Vikings who did not die in battle, went to her hall 
in Muspel and became her slaves, to battle against the Gods at Ragnarok."

"While those who did die in battle went to Sesrumnir," Jack said, nodding 
his understanding. "That bit I know."

"Or Valhalla," Angharad added. "But yes; they became the Einherjar; 
warriors of the Gods. The greatest of all honours."

"Good food, too."

"Jack," Daniel chided.

"Daniel?" Jack replied, blandly.

"It's alright, Daniel," Angharad assured him. "I don't mind."

After perhaps twenty minutes, they reached the end of the corridor.

"Damnit!" Angharad swore. The passage terminated in a wall, set with a 
sealed doorway. A large, smooth, circular runestone was set beside the 
door. "I don't think this one's going to come out so easily," she said, 
feeling around the edge of the door.

Cassandra and Llew gripped each other's hands tightly.

"There's something in there," Llew cautioned. "Something powerful."

"It's your imagination, kid," Jack assured him.

"No," Cassie replied. "I can feel it too. Like I can feel..." She broke 
off, unable to say what she wanted in the presence of Llew and Angharad.

Jack nodded, and took the zat out of his tool belt.

"What's that?" Angharad asked.

"Just a precaution," Jack assured her. "Don't worry. I'm not going to 
shoot the place up."

"Danny...?"

"Please, Annie," Daniel replied. "Trust me."

"You brought an *armed* soldier onto my dig," she said, hurt. "And you 
didn't tell me."

"I hoped it wouldn't be necessary," he said, sadly. "But trust me; we 
know what we're doing."

Angharad frowned, sensing that Daniel was hiding something from her, and 
clearly cut to the quick. "Do you?"

Daniel smiled, thinly. Then he reached out, and twisted the runestone. 
The door slid upwards, leaving the opening clear. "Yes," he replied.

"Llew; I want you to stay out here," Angharad said, nervously. "If the 
ceiling falls in on us, go and get help."

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that," Llew replied, trying for 
levity, and failing.

"Cassie; you should stay out here too," Jack added.

"For starters, I'm really not insured for you," Angharad told the girl, 
cutting off her protests. "I shouldn't have let you down here in the 
first place."

"Besides," Llew said. "Who's going to look after me?"

Cassandra smiled, but the expression wavered. "Okay; I'll stay back 
here."

"Be careful," Llew repeated.

"Always," Jack promised.

                         *******************

Cassandra watched, clutching Llew's fingers, as the three grown-ups 
passed through the door. From her vantage point, she could see that they 
were entering a small, domed chamber, with no other exits. At the centre 
of the room was a pedestal, covered in markings, from which the sense of 
power seemed to radiate.

"Can you feel that," Cassandra whispered, the hairs along her arms 
standing on end.

"I don't like it," Llew admitted.

In the chamber, Daniel and Angharad were standing on opposite sides of 
the pedestal, while Jack kept watch. Daniel appeared to be doing 
something to the slab.

"Do they really know what they're doing?" Llew asked.

"Oh yeah," Cassie assured him. "Your Mom couldn't be in better hands." 
//Unless Sam and Teal'c were here as well,// she thought, but she didn't 
say it, very aware of Llew's anxiety. She forced herself to stop 
trembling, and gave his hand a supportive squeeze. "Seriously."

"Thanks," Llew said. "I just wish they..."

Llew froze, and Cassandra almost gasped out loud as a wave of energy 
rolled over them. It had no form, but she could feel it, pouring through 
the door and rushing towards the pedestal. Instinctively, Cassandra knew 
where it was as it struck Jack, boiled around him, flowed over Daniel and 
Angharad and grounded in the pedestal.

No one in the room made the slightest reaction.

"Mam!" Llew called, and Angharad looked up. "Get out! Get out, n...!"

The pedestal flared with blue-white light, so bright that Cassandra and 
Llew were forced to turn away. When they looked back, the room was dark, 
silent, and empty.

                         *******************

No-one on the surface had the first clue that anything had happened until 
Cassie and Llew burst out of the tomb, almost at a dead run.

"They'll be alright," Cassie said. "Sam'll know what to do. They'll be 
alright." Over and over she repeated it, like a mantra, as they hurried 
to Angharad's trailer, followed by a growing crowd of volunteers. Llew 
shut the door behind them, as Cassandra fumbled with her mobile phone.

"Sam?" She said at last. Then, after a pause: "Sam...they're gone. They 
just...they're gone."

                         *******************

Sam and Teal'c tried not to meet each other's eyes on the flight to 
Canada. So long as they managed that, they could each tell the other that 
Jack and Daniel would be alright; that this was not the first time 
members of SG-1 had gone missing, and they had always turned up safely in 
the end. So long as they could not see the lies in each others eyes, they 
could almost pretend that they really weren't worried.

There had been a fifty minute delay while they circled on the border, 
waiting for General Hammond to negotiate permission for their USAF C-37A 
Gulfstream to enter Canadian airspace, but it had still been quicker than 
flying commercially from Colorado Springs. As always, Hammond had gone 
one step beyond for his people: As well as providing the SGC's 
Gulfstream, he had arranged matters so that a Canadian Air Force CH-146 
Griffon transport helicopter was waiting at St Anthony to whisk them to 
the dig site.

Sharing Sam and Teal'c's grim mood were Lieutenant Colonel Louis Ferretti 
and Captain Amy Kawalsky of SG-6. SG-6 had been assigned to assist in the 
search for Colonel O'Neill and Daniel Jackson because of Captain 
Kawalsky's training in anthropology - within the SGC, her knowledge in 
the field of ancient cultures was second only to Daniel Jackson when SG-
11 were offworld on a dig - but both she and her CO had a personal 
interest in the mission. Ferretti had served with both men on the 
original Stargate mission, and aside from them was now the only survivor. 
Amy Kawalsky's brother, Charles, had also made it through that first 
reconnaissance, only to be killed a year later. Charles Kawalsky and Jack 
O'Neill had been good friends, and it was an open secret that Amy was 
very fond of Dr Jackson.

"They'll be fine," Sam said, for about the fifth time. She suspected that 
they were starting to make the two junior members of SG-6 nervous, and 
maybe the chopper pilot as well.

"They have both survived many dangers," Teal'c agreed. "And have vanished 
into thin air before now, always to return."

"Colonel O'Neill knows how to take care of himself," Amy added. "And 
Daniel...is with Colonel O'Neill."

"How much trouble could they have gotten into on an anthropological dig 
anyway?" Ferretti asked.

The other three groaned.

"Never ask questions like that," Sam said. "Not when Daniel's involved."

"And don't call it anthropology in front of him," Amy added.

Sam leaned forward and called to the pilot. "Sergeant; how..."

"A few minutes, Major," the pilot responded, without waiting for her to 
finish. "I can see the site up ahead."

"Remember to land well clear, and don't buzz the site," Amy called. "Last 
thing we want is a bunch of bad-tempered archaeologists."

Although the pilot obeyed Amy's instructions, avoiding spraying loose 
dirt into the trenches, the helicopter attracted quite a crowd when it 
touched down in the field. There did not appear to be a great deal of 
work going on at the site, even before the arrival of this distraction.

As Sam stepped down she saw Cassandra - taking a moment to recognise her 
with her new hair colour - standing with a boy at the front of the crowd, 
and hurried to her. She suppressed the urge to pull the girl into a hug, 
knowing Cassie found that awkward now she was in her adolescent years. 
Cassandra however showed no such restraint, grabbing hold of Sam, her 
body shaking.

"Thanks for coming so quickly," she said, once she'd calmed herself down. 
"This is Llew; Dr Midhir's son," she added, introducing the boy.

"Thank you for coming, Dr Carter," he repeated.

Sam nodded. "We're going to do everything we can," she assured him.

"You're very kind," Llew said. "We..." He paused, a look of fear crossing 
his face as he gazed over Sam's shoulder.

She looked back. "Oh. Lou; this is Teal'c." The two exchanged wary nods. 
Sam could understand that people found Teal'c intimidating when they did 
not know him, but this seemed like more than that.

Cassie caught Teal'c giving her an odd look. "You okay, Teal'c?" She 
asked.

"You are purple," the Jaffa replied. Cassandra gave a frail grin, and 
hugged him tightly.

"Miss Kawalsky," Llew greeted Amy, familiarly.

"Hey, kiddo," she returned, clasping the boy in a one-armed hug. "Daniel 
got me a place on one of Annie's digs in my final year," she told Sam, 
then introduced her team mates to the youth.

Llew seemed reassured by the familiar presence, but he took a moment to 
regain his composure before going on. "Where was I?" He asked. "Oh, yes. 
I was saying, we can take you to where it happened straight away."

                         *******************

"The others think you're a rescue team," Cassie told Sam as they walked 
towards the temple. "We told them that there was a cave in, and that 
moving the rocks just made more fall in."

"Well done, Cassie," Sam said. "We'll make a covert operative of you 
yet."

Cassandra smiled, but the expression was fleeting, and barely touched her 
eyes. "We think Daniel triggered the wave somehow; he was fiddling with 
the pedestal. It's covered in markings, but we don't know what they 
mean."

"Well," Llew added. "I know what they mean, as symbols; just not what 
they mean in context. They're letters, but don't seem to form words."

"What kind of letters?" Amy asked. "Runic? Hieroglyphic?"

"They...Would you excuse me a moment. Cassie; can I speak to you?"

"Uh...Sure." Cassandra turned to Sam. "We'll be back in two shakes."

"Wonder what that's all about?" Sam said, as the two youngsters drew 
apart from the adults and whispered together, darting occasional glances 
over their shoulders.

"Llew Midhir appears concerned over something more immediate than his 
mother's disappearance," Teal'c observed. Sam was surprised by the ease 
with which the Jaffa managed the Welsh names. "I believe that he 
distrusts us."

"You're getting that as well?" Sam asked. "I thought maybe I was just 
imagining it, but..." She broke off, as Cassandra and Llew returned.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked, casually.

"Sam," Cassie said. "Can you or Teal'c sense anything about this place?"

"Sense?" Sam asked, warily. Llew kept casting glances from her to Teal'c, 
with a look that was somewhere between anxiety and horror.

"Yes. Like you can sense the presence of a Goa'uld."

"Cassie!" Sam snapped, shocked at the girl's lack of discretion.

"Can you sense anything?" Cassie insisted.

"I sense nothing," Teal'c replied, locking his gaze with Llew. "We are 
here to help you," he told the boy. "Why do you not trust us?"

"Cut to the chase, huh?" Llew said. "Okay. I trust you; I don't trust 
*it*."

"It?" Sam asked, giving Cassandra the evil eye. The girl stared back, 
sullen and defiant. "So you know...?"

"I can feel it inside you," Llew told Teal'c. "It's...I've never felt 
anything so utterly evil."

"I know it sounds odd, Sam," Cassandra admitted. "But I think that Llew 
may be a Hak'tar. We can both feel the power coming from this place, and 
if you can't, then it's not just from the naquadah in my blood. And he 
senses things even *I* can't."

"Well," Sam said. "The symbiote inside Teal'c can't hurt anyone, not for 
years. We'll get rid of it before that, but he needs it to live."

Llew nodded, clearly disturbed by the idea. Cassandra gently took his 
hand. "We've got to get on with this," she said, softly. "Are you okay 
with that?"

"Yes," he replied, distantly; then more firmly: "Yes. The letters were 
runic," he told Sam, as they set off again. At the entrance, he lifted 
one of the electric lanterns before proceeding. "But the way they're put 
together is gibberish; or at least a language that I don't know."

"How many do you know?" Sam asked.

"Seven," Llew replied. "But all Scandinavian or northern European. It may 
have been written in an Egyptian dialect; spelled phonetically in Runic 
characters."

As they entered the chamber, Cassandra shivered. "You still don't feel 
anything?" She asked Sam.

"Not a thing" she admitted. "Kawalsky; come and take a look at this."

Llew stood next to Cassandra, with Teal'c watching the boy intently, as 
Sam and Amy huddled around the pedestal. Up close, ancient bloodstains 
were visible on the surface of the stone.

There were two inscriptions on the pedestal: a line of characters around 
the outside of the circular plinth, and a block of text within that. The 
symbols were the familiar characters of the Norse futhark, but Sam had 
never really got around to learning them. Amy was not a Norse specialist, 
but she had picked up a few basics of the language on Angharad's dig, and 
later spent time learning the alphabet from Daniel - because it was used 
by the Asgard, and because it gave her an excuse to spend time with him. 
She also knew Egyptian and some Goa'uld and Asgard, but she concurred 
with Llew that neither text meant anything.

Sam nodded as the Captain spoke, running her finger idly around a 
shallow, spiral groove carved under and through the central block. 
"Captain?" She asked. "How are you with codes?"

"Codes?" Amy asked.

Sam nodded. "Follow the spiral, write down each character you cross."

"Aah," Amy gasped. She pulled out a notepad and began scribbling notes. 
She worked keenly for a minute, but then sighed. "Still gibberish," she 
said. She showed the pad to Llew, in case it meant anything to him.

"Nothing," he admitted.

"What about numbers?" Sam suggested, remembering the Hall of Thor's 
Might. "What would those give you?"

Llew took the pad, and wrote a string of digits. To Sam's great chagrin, 
no universal constant emerged. From the spiral, she had been hoping for 
Phi: the Golden Ratio.

"May I see that?" Teal'c asked. Llew handed over the pad, and the Jaffa 
stepped up to the pedestal. From the spiral she had hoped for the Golden 
Ratio maybe.

"So what do we do now?" Llew demanded, anxious.

"I don't know," Sam admitted. "But we'll think of something."

Cassandra suddenly straightened as another surge of power rolled over 
her. At the far side of the chamber from the door, a great slab of stone 
pivoted aside with a tortured, grating noise, revealing an opening. 
"Teal'c! What did you do?" Cassie demanded.

"Following the spiral does not spell out a message," Teal'c explained. 
"But a sequence of characters to be depressed on the outer ring. The 
Goa'uld sometimes use such a code to conceal Stargate addresses. This 
version is crude; in a more sophisticated form, the central text would 
appear to be a coherent passage in its own right."

"So why wasn't there a light this time?" Llew asked.

And then there was.

                         *******************

After the light dispersed, Jack took a moment to get his bearings. When 
he was certain that they were more or less alone, he spoke. "Daniel," he 
said. "What have I told you about touching strange control panels?"

"Well, this wasn't what I expected," Daniel admitted. "I thought that 
breaking the code might open a means of communication to the Asgard, or 
possibly activate a hidden transport ring system to a lower chamber."

"That last would be a very good reason not to break the code," Jack 
reminded him.

"I suppose it would be," Daniel admitted. "But that felt like an Asgard 
transporter, didn't you think?"

Jack nodded, looking around at the chamber in which they found 
themselves. "And this looks like part of an Asgard complex. But there was 
something off. I'm not usually aware of an Asgard transport beam until 
it's over; this seemed to go on longer."

"Danny!" Angharad snapped, her voice brittle with near panic. "What...?" 
Then words failed her.

"Oh, God," Daniel whispered.

"Ah; yeah," Jack said. "Look; we'll try to explain later, but for now you 
just need to know that the ancient gods were aliens, and we look to be on 
one of their ships. Maybe Thor got himself some new wheels, or..."

"Jack..." Daniel cautioned.

Angharad shot Jack a fierce glare. "That's just so...." She turned to 
Daniel. "Danny..."

Daniel nodded, slowly. "I'm sorry, Annie," he said.

Angharad laughed, bitterly. "No," she said. "No you're not. You were 
right, and the world was wrong..."

"Annie," Daniel pleaded.

"Except you're *not*," she insisted. "I *know* that, Danny. My gods *are* 
real."

"Ah, hell," Jack muttered. "I'm sorry, but do you know how many times 
we've had to put up with this spiel?" He asked Angharad.

"You're wrong," Angharad said again, softly. "I have all the proof I 
need; living proof..."

She broke off, as a bellowing scream echoed through the chamber.

"This is why I still hang out with you," Jack told Daniel. "We always end 
up in the funnest places."

"Are you okay, Annie?" Daniel asked, laying a hand on her arm.

Angharad shrugged him off, fiercely. "I'm fine," she told him. The anger 
and hurt in her voice gave the lie to her claim, but she waved him away 
when he tried to touch her again. "Don't, Daniel," she said, firmly. 
"Just don't."

The chamber shook as another cry sounded. "I think it came from down 
there," Jack said, pointing with his zat at one of the three exits. 
"Let's go take a look."

"Are you insane?" Angharad asked.

"Well, unless you can find a way back where we came from, I'd rather that 
thing was in front of us than behind."

Angharad nodded, resignedly. "You do this kind of thing a lot?" She 
asked.

"More than I like to think of," Daniel told her. She almost smiled, but 
caught herself, and refused to meet his eye.

Hurt, but respecting her feelings, Daniel moved up alongside Jack. "I 
don't want to worry you," he said. "But either my watch is fast, or it's 
actually several hours since we were on the site."

Jack checked his own watch, and saw that Daniel was right. "Were we 
unconscious?" He asked.

"I don't think so," Daniel replied. "I've got a theory, although Sam 
would probably find about a dozen holes in it."

Jack waited a few moments. "Well?"

"Oh; I just figured that even broken down into your component molecules 
and slung across the galaxy at several hundred times the speed of light, 
there has to be a travel time."

"And? But? So?"

"So, if we took several hours to get here, we might be a very long way 
from home. Maybe further than we've even gone by Stargate before now."

"Speak for yourself," Jack replied.

The screams continued to reverberate throughout the complex, growing ever 
closer as the three of them moved cautiously along the passages. There 
seemed to be very little there; empty rooms, tables with nothing on them, 
dead display screens and control consoles stripped of their enabling 
runes.

"This seems so familiar..." Angharad whispered to herself.

At length, one of the passages opened out into a high-ceilinged chamber. 
From this entrance, a horseshoe walkway ran left and right, to two 
smaller doors. Held within the horseshoe was a shallow pit, and rising 
from it a strange machine. Consoles around the edge of the pit seemed to 
be intended to control the machine, and its purpose was horrifically 
clear.

Strapped into a cross between a medieval rack and a dentists chair was a 
tall man. His body was inclined, almost to vertical, and held in place by 
bands of metal, articulated to the chair. His skin was decorated with 
tattoos, and pierced by myriad tubules, which carried strange fluids into 
his body. The man had blonde hair, which hung lank and unwashed to below 
his waist, tangling with a beard of the same flaxen hue. His face was 
invisible behind the curtain of hair. As they entered, he was screaming 
again, and twisting in his bonds until he looked as though he might 
injure himself. Surrounding the chair was a vague distortion in the air, 
like a ripple in water; an energy field.

"Ye gods," Angharad whispered. "He's speaking...It's hard to make 
anything out, but it sounds like ancient Norse."

"What's he saying?" Jack asked.

Angharad waved him to silence, concentrating hard. "I'm not sure. It 
sounds like an Icelandic dialect, though. Or maybe Norwegian." She 
listened for a moment more, until the screaming and thrashing subsided.

"Okay," she said. "I think I heard: 'A plague on you, bitch, for keeping 
me alive. And a curse on Asgard for their foul mercy. May Thor's balls 
shrivel and harden..."

"I didn't think he had any," Jack commented. Daniel shushed him and 
motioned for Angharad to continue.

"Well, there's just a lot more in that vein," Angharad admitted. "Nothing 
much more enlightening than that."

Jack spun around, hearing the pattering of feet behind him, just before 
the man erupted in another torrent of abuse. He drew Daniel and Angharad 
aside, and a moment later a woman rushed past them to the consoles. 
Weeping and fretting, she began to rearrange the runestones, and 
gradually the cries died away once more. She looked young, with a 
voluptuous figure and golden hair.

In a quavering tone, the woman spoke, and Angharad whispered a 
translation to her companions. "Forgive me, Lord, but I had to rest."

The man raised his head, eyes glittering coldly through his blonde veil. 
"You stupid whore," Angharad translated. "I have no forgiveness for you; 
only hatred and contempt."

The woman hung her head, but said nothing, and the man continued in a 
hoarse whisper: "I can barely spare the effort to despise you anymore. 
Your loyalty is foolishness, your 'love'" - he sneered, cruelly - 
"blindness. There is no woman in the three worlds I would not sooner bed 
than take a milksop like you. I can hardly believe I ever found you 
beautiful."

The woman shuddered with sobs, but still made no response.

"What a charmer," Angharad hissed.

"Well, the years of torture probably not helping his temper," Jack said, 
bleakly. "Well, we can fix that." He stepped forward, and the woman 
started in terror.

Jack raised his zat to the consoles.

"Jack..." Daniel said, warily.

"Wait," Angharad added. "I don't think you should..."

"Stuff it," Jack said, and fired.

The zat'nik'tel's lightning arced around the railings, leaping from 
machine to machine. Sparks flew, and panels exploded, and with a 
crackling hiss, the energy field stuttered and failed, and the lights in 
the chamber went out.

                         *******************

The chamber was pitch black, and filled by the echoes of an almost crazed 
laughter. Jack took a flare from his tool belt, and lit it. In the 
phosphorescent glow, he looked around, seeing Daniel, then Angharad, then 
the woman cowering in the shadows.

"Gah!" Jack cried, as the man who had been bound in the chair clambered 
over the darkened consoles, weeping and laughing at the same time. He had 
pushed back his tangled, matted hair, and his blue eyes bored into Jack.

The woman ran out to the freed lunatic, sobbing for joy. With barely a 
glance, the man swung his fist, backhanding her and sending her crashing 
hard against the consoles.

"Hey!" Jack stepped forward as the man advanced on his whimpering 
custodian. "Back off there, pal."

The man looked at him, and struck him casually aside. Jack was startled 
by his strength - for a man who had spent who knew how long in a torture 
device, he was in remarkable shape - and sent tumbling across the floor. 
Both the zat and the flare skittered away from his hands.

Angharad approached the man, speaking gently in his own language. Daniel 
stood protectively at her shoulder, glancing nervously to where Jack was 
feeling cautiously for his weapon. Despite the surroundings, he was less 
than startled to see white fire light the man's cold, blue eyes from 
within.

"Annie," he cautioned.

With a sudden lunge, the man caught hold of Angharad about the waist, and 
pulled her against him.

"No!" Angharad screamed, panicking. "Get off me!"

"Leave her alone!" Daniel roared, hurling himself at the struggling pair. 
Light filled his gaze, almost blinding him, and his rush met only air. 
Stumbling, he barely caught himself from toppling over the consoles into 
the pit, and he was grateful to feel Jack's hand on his shoulder.

"What the hell just happened?" Jack demanded.

"He was a Goa'uld," Daniel said. "He took Annie!"

"What the hell is a Goa'uld doing strapped into a torture chair in an 
Asgard complex?" Jack asked. "And why does he disappear on an Asgard 
transport beam?"

Daniel shrugged, helplessly. "Maybe she knows?" He suggested, pointing to 
the woman, who lay shivering and weeping at the base of the consoles she 
had once manned.

"Can you speak to her?"

"I can try," Daniel replied. He crouched in front of the woman, and put 
his hands on her shoulders. "Look at me," he demanded, in halting Norse.

Slowly, she raised her head and met his gaze. She had pretty blue eyes, 
in an almost childlike, cherubic face, but they were swollen with tears, 
and she looked as though she had not slept well in a long time.

"Who are you?" Daniel asked. "Who was he?"

The woman's face registered no understanding. She seemed to stare 
straight through him, in a state of abject shock.

"Where has he taken my friend?" Daniel demanded. "Where? Answer me," he 
insisted, shaking her by the shoulders. When she still gave no response, 
he shook her harder, her head lolling listlessly on her neck.

"Daniel!" Jack snapped. "That's enough."

Daniel looked back angrily at his friend, but the mute sympathy in Jack's 
eyes silenced his retort.

"We'll get her back," Jack promised.

"How?" Daniel asked. "We don't even know..."

                         *******************

Once more, light flashed, and this time it remained. Squinting and 
blinking, Jack and Daniel were able to make out that they now stood in 
the transport hub of an Asgard mothership. The woman was still crouched 
at Daniel's feet.

"Okay then!" Jack called out. "You want a piece of us? Come on out and 
try it!"

"What are you doing here, Jack O'Neill?" The voice came from all around 
them, gentle and mellifluous.

"Thor?" Jack asked. "Is that you buddy?"

The door of the transport room slid open, and an Asgard entered. When 
Thor's voice spoke again, it was still from the public address system 
however. "Follow my crewman to the bridge," he instructed. "The woman 
will be cared for."

"Is it just me," Daniel asked, as they followed. "Or does he sound mad 
about something?"

"He sounds...stressed," Jack admitted. "But I can't imagine Thor being 
mad at anyone for anything."

The door to the bridge opened before them, and Thor stood waiting.

"It is perhaps fortunate then, that you will not have to imagine," the 
Asgard told Jack, and as incongruous as it was, the slender alien did 
indeed seem angry. "I am most disturbed to find you here, O'Neill; and 
you, Dr Jackson. I would have thought that you would both know better 
than to meddle in such a place."

"I guess you don't know us that well," Daniel replied.

"Not helping, Daniel," Jack cautioned.

"Tell me, O'Neill," Thor said. "Do you know who it was that released our 
greatest and most terrible foe from his captivity?"

"Ah," Jack replied, sheepishly.

Thor blinked, His face was as unreadable as ever, yet the 
uncharacteristic air of anger that hung about the Asgard seemed to 
intensify.

"That would be us," Daniel explained.

"Or more accurately, me," Jack admitted.

Thor shook his head, gently, his anger seeming to give way to a sorrow 
which went far beyond his race's customary melancholy. "Then it is you 
who have brought doom upon us all," he said.

                         *******************

"Colonel O'Neill!" Sam knew that she should not have been surprised.

"Hi guys," Jack said. "What are you all doing in Newfoundland?"

"We were just passing through," Ferretti assured him, with a grin. "Don't 
start thinking we care or nothing."

"Is it just me?" Daniel asked. "Or are there more doors in this room than 
there used to be?"

"You are not mistaken," Teal'c told him. "The second exit opened when I 
entered the decoded text onto the pedestal."

"That's odd," Daniel mused.

"Who's your new friend?" Sam asked. "I take it this isn't Dr Midhir?"

The man who had arrived in the transport beam with Jack and Daniel 
stepped forward. He was a red-bearded giant of a man, casually dressed. 
"Major Carter," he greeted her, in a light and oddly cadenced tone. "It 
is a pleasure to see you again. I only wish that it was under more 
felicitous circumstances."

"Thor?" She asked, uncertain.

"I am incognito," the Asgard explained. "Sadly, we must call upon your 
assistance once more to defeat a great and terrible enemy."

"Again?"

Jack gave an embarrassed grin. "Well; this time it is sort of our fault."

"We set their most archenemy loose," Daniel added, darkly.

"I said I was sorry," Jack offered. Daniel just glared.

"Are you alright, Daniel?" Sam asked, gently, sensing the tension between 
her friends.

"I'm fine," he insisted, unconvincingly.

"He's not fine," Jack corrected. "He...they both told me not to do it," 
he confessed. "And the guy took Dr Midhir."

"Mam?" Llew asked, anxiously.

Jack started, having not noticed the boy's presence. "We are going to get 
her back," he promised, grimly.

"We shall do all that is within our power to retrieve your mother 
safely," Thor agreed.

"Thank you, Lord Thor," Llew replied. "And you Colonel."

"*Lord* Thor?" Daniel asked.

"Uh, yeah," Llew replied, almost blandly. "Isn't that the right way to 
address a god?"

"So much for incognito," Jack muttered.

                         *******************

SG-1 repaired to Angharad's trailer for a conference with Thor. They had 
sealed off the temple, and convinced the concerned diggers that Dr Midhir 
had been flown to hospital. SG-6 were watching the entrance, more in case 
of opportunistic tomb robbers than to keep the archaeologists out, since 
they were too shocked by Angharad's injury even to care what lay within 
the tomb-like structure anymore. Mary had even ceased to care about the 
mysterious bilingual inscription.

In addition to the four team members, Llew had insisted on being present, 
and once Jack had agreed to let him sit in, Cassandra would not be 
dissuaded from joining them as well.

"As you know," Thor began. "When the Asgard first encountered the 
Goa'uld, we knew nothing of their ways."

"That was when Freyja's kin encountered them?" Jack asked.

"Yes," Thor replied. "The crew of the 'Vanir.' However, even after that 
it took us some time to realise that the atrocities committed were not 
simply the work of a renegade lord, but were of a kind practiced by all 
Goa'uld. We did not learn for some time that their savagery and lust for 
power was as innate to them as the desire for understanding is to us. 
Thus, when Loki approached us, Odin was convinced of his goodwill. They 
swore oaths of kinship, binding them as close as brothers, and entered 
into a pact which Odin hoped would bring the perpetrators of the massacre 
of the 'Vanir' to justice, and form the basis of a peace between the 
Asgard and the System Lords."

"Oops," Jack commented.

"Odin was not the only one taken in by the betrayer," Thor admitted. 
"Loki fooled us all at first, and he and I were companions for many 
decades. I taught him much of our ways, and our technology, and he in 
turn taught us much about the Goa'uld; all of it lies.

"Even when it was discovered what the Goa'uld truly were - how they live, 
their culture of cruelty - we still trusted Loki; we wanted to trust him. 
But then he began to abuse our gifts, and our friendship. I learned that 
he was stealing the plans for our weapons and starships, and putting them 
to use in a project of his own; a project designed to destroy the Asgard 
in one fell stroke."

"Ragnarok," Daniel said.

"That is the name that Loki gave to his project," Thor acknowledged. 
"When I learned of it, I bid him to stop. At first he tried to convince 
me that he was working on a plan to bring about the downfall of the 
Goa'uld, but when he saw that I knew the truth, he taunted me with his 
schemes. I tried to stop him by force, but Odin prevented me. As 
oathbrother to Odin, Loki was one of us, and the Asgard have not raised 
their hands, one to another, in over six thousand years."

Daniel nodded. "This story is part of Earth legend," he said. "Secure in 
Odin's protection, Loki mocked the other gods; the Asgard."

"Indeed, Dr Jackson, and myself especially. He attacked worlds under my 
protection, assaulting and abusing the women of my following, murdering 
the men, and destroying my hammers so that the Goa'uld could overrun 
those who had looked to me for safety. Still Odin and his allies in the 
Council would not permit me to act against him, although every day his 
plans against us gained momentum.

"At last, he caused the death of my dearest companion, Baldur, by 
sabotaging the shield on his vessel. Unprotected, he was destroyed while 
attempting to defend a world under Asgard protection from the 
depredations of the Goa'uld Sobek. Finally, Odin was forced to heed my 
counsel, and although he would still not allow us to kill the traitor, he 
gave permission for us to capture and imprison him."

"Which I get," Jack said. "But what about torture?"

"The torture was not deliberate," Thor assured him. "Merely a side-effect 
of the method used to hold Loki prisoner."

"Why not just seal him into his sarcophagus?" Daniel asked.

Thor turned his head, and gazed right at Daniel. "Because then there 
would have been no side-effect," the Asgard said, darkly.

Jack swallowed hard, unnerved by the anger which had once more entered 
Thor's tone. He had never thought it would be possible to make an Asgard 
angry; that the race was above such sentiments. Loki however, had plainly 
managed to piss Thor off so badly that the Asgard had not forgiven him, 
even after all this time.

"When we had captured him, we brought Loki to an asteroid, orbiting a 
fading star in the remotest corner of our galaxy. There, one of my 
lieutenants, Skadi, had prepared a place of imprisonment, that would hold 
even one as devious and slippery as Loki. An energy field held him 
suspended, and great machines kept him alive. In time, held in that 
field, conscious all the while, every moment of Loki's existence would 
become torment."

"That's obscene!" Jack protested.

"Loki's crimes were obscene," Thor replied. coldly. "And remember that I 
would have preferred to see him put to death. Also, the machines could be 
used to alleviate his pain if supervised. No Asgard wished to devote 
their life to tending the traitor, but his concubine, Sigyn, begged us to 
allow her to continue serving her master."

"The woman in the complex?" Daniel asked. "She'd been there from the 
beginning?"

"Yes. She was given a healing pod to maintain her own physiological 
integrity, and taught how to adjust the machines. For all that he had 
given her little reason, Sigyn truly loved her master."

"Not that he showed much gratitude," Jack muttered, angrily.

"Loki has never had much time for anyone but Loki," Thor replied.

"When we arrived, Loki was in pain," Daniel said. "Why was that?"

"Sigyn has been sustained by the healing pod for more than two millennia. 
She has reached the point where the pod's effects last only a short time, 
before she must return. I estimate that she must have been using the pod 
for eight hours, every seven days - by your terms - in order to prevent a 
complete failure of her body's vital organs."

"Two thousand years of that crap?" Jack asked. "Girl Power was just 
something that happened to other people for her, wasn't it?"

"On the contrary, O'Neill," Thor said. "In her time as Loki's concubine, 
Sigyn wore many skimpy and unflattering garments."

Jack rolled his eyes. "Earth culture by media monitoring. No wonder no-
one ever comes to talk to us."

"So what happens now?" Sam asked. "Why is one Goa'uld on the loose such a 
terrible threat?"

"Loki made his escape in an Asgard ship, and as you know, it is sometimes 
hard even for us to track our own vessels."

"Did he have outside assistance in his escape?" Teal'c asked.

Jack gave a rueful smile. "Apart from us?"

"It is possible," Thor replied. "In his prime, Loki had many servants 
among the Goa'uld; enough to threaten the primacy of the System Lords, 
even without his access to Asgard technology. Many returned to the fold 
or were slain by the System Lords after Loki's defeat, but a few may 
still support him in secret and await his return. Most dangerous of all, 
however; he will seek now to reunite with his three children."

"His children?" Sam asked.

"The Serpent, the Witch and the Wolf," Llew surmised.

"Jormungandr, Hel and Fenrir," Daniel expanded.

"Yes," Thor continued. "The three children born to Loki by his Goa'uld 
Queen, Angrboda. Jormungandr is a Goa'uld, last known to inhabit the body 
of an Unas."

"Sensational," Jack grumbled. "I hate those things. No offence to Chaka," 
he assured Daniel.

"I'm sure he'd be delighted to know that your thoughts are with him," 
Daniel said. "What about the other two?"

"Hel and Fenrir are twins; the Harcesis offspring of the two hosts. All 
three children have access to the technology hoarded by the Goa'uld, and 
that of the Asgard race. Each possesses tremendous power and 
intelligence, but worse than this, we believe they may hold the keys - 
knowingly or otherwise - to Loki's most terrible weapon. 'Naglfar.'"

"The ship of nails," Llew whispered.

"Huh?" Sam asked.

"I was going to say that," Jack admitted. "The 'huh' thing, not the 
nails."

Daniel looked grim. "In the age of Ragnarok, when the Earth Freezes and 
brother will fight brother, Loki will captain a ship made from dead men's 
toenails, and sail out of Muspel to battle the gods. That's the legend 
anyway. If there really is a 'Naglfar,' then I imagine that Loki getting 
to it wouldn't be good."

"'Naglfar' was the heart of Loki's plan," Thor acknowledged. "A vessel 
built with the technology of the Asgard and of the Goa'uld, and that of 
any other race whom Loki could deceive or steal from. The most powerful 
warship ever conceived. Loki constructed the vessel in secret, but Baldur 
learned of its existence. I believe that Loki engineered Baldur's death 
in an attempt to conceal 'Naglfar,' but he had already given the 
information to Skadi, who brought it to me. Loki was captured before he 
was ready to launch his attack, but 'Naglfar' was completed, and 
concealed, using a technology beyond our own; a technique which I believe 
was similar, but not identical to the Nox's power of invisibility.

"Since Loki's capture, the ship has remained hidden; dormant."

"And the children know where?" Jack asked.

"It is unlikely that Loki would have entrusted them with such knowledge. 
The keys which I speak of are literal. Like all Asgard vessels, the ship 
has a master rune; a stone which unlocks every system on the ship. From 
the information that Baldur sent to me, I know that the 'Naglfar's' rune 
was designed to be divided into three parts when removed from its cradle, 
and I believe that this was so that he could give one to each of his 
children. Without its brothers, a single part of the master rune would be 
useless."

Sam nodded her understanding. "Jolinar remembered similar practices among 
the Goa'uld. A lord might entrust separate parts of a secret to each of 
his children. They then don't dare move against each other for fear of 
losing the secret, but they won't divulge what they know to each other 
and gain the ability to act against their parent."

"That is correct, Major Carter. Loki knew that his children would horde 
their potential power, and never share it. But now he will have to 
retrieve all three parts of the master rune before the 'Naglfar' can be 
activated, which gives us a chance to recapture him."

Jack raised his hand. "Sorry if this is a silly question, but what if he 
has a spare key?"

Thor nodded. "The master rune of an Asgard vessel is linked to it by 
quantum entanglement. It is irreplaceable and can not be duplicated."

"It the key is entangled to the ship, does it even have to be in place?" 
Sam asked.

"Yes," Thor assured her. "Although the entanglement joins the two at any 
distance, it acts only to identify the key. The ship is activated when 
the entangled runestone is placed in the control cradle."

"What about Angrboda?" Daniel asked. "Does she fit into the equation 
somewhere?"

"No," Thor replied, shaking his head. "She is dead. Skadi vanquished and 
destroyed Angrboda when she sought to free her consort from his prison."

"Okay," Jack said. "So, worst case scenario; what happens if Loki gets 
the keys and gets to his Snagglefar?"

"With the power of 'Naglfar' at his command, none of the System Lords 
would have the strength to stand against Loki," Thor said. "He would 
stand, uncontested, as the Supreme System Lord, and unite the Goa'uld 
under his banner. With all the resources of the Goa'uld at his disposal, 
and the shipyards of Asyut, he could build a fleet of vessels such as 
'Naglfar' - although none capable of defeating his own command vessel, 
naturally. He would be able to eliminate the Tau'ri, and with the 
advantages of Asgard technology, could root out the Tok'ra resistance. 
Even the Asgard would be unable to stand against such a force; as you 
know, we already sorely taxed in policing the Protected Planets Treaty, 
due to our war with the Replicators."

"So, real end of the world as we know it stuff?" Jack said.

"Ragnarok," Daniel affirmed.

"And how do we stop him?" Jack asked.

"We must prevent him from claiming the keys that are in his children's 
keeping," Thor explained."

"No problem then," Jack said. "You just jet off to wherever they are, and 
make sure you get the keys first."

"Were it that simple," Thor replied. "We would already have done so."

Sam groaned. "So what's the catch?"

"The 'catch', as you say, is that we do not know where his children are, 
precisely. The Asgard were...reluctant to confront Loki's get after his 
imprisonment."

"Reluctant?" Daniel asked.

"We were...afraid," Thor admitted. "They have many gifts from their 
father; weapons and technology; alterations made to Hel and Fenrir, and 
to Jormungandr's host body."

Jack looked concerned. "Alterations?"

"Nanotechnology; genetic engineering; gene therapy; cybernetics. Loki's 
own host is similarly enhanced."

"Wonderful," Jack muttered.

"You say you don't know where they are," Daniel said. "Do you know where 
they were?"

"Jormungandr will be easy to locate," Thor replied. "Rather less so to 
contact. He was confined in an Asgard prison, which orbits the galaxy. I 
believe that your people recognise it as an erratic comet. He was 
transported directly to the prison, some time before his father's 
capture, but no-one spoke to him, so we had no opportunity to find out 
where he had hidden his piece of the key.

"The prison has not been used in many years, but was designed to prevent 
any approach. As an Asgard mind designed the defences, an Asgard mind may 
be ill-equipped to breach security there. It may be that a less 
sophisticated..."

"I'm in," Sam told him. "My stupid ideas are always at your disposal."

"Thank you, Major Carter. Your stupid ideas are always welcomed."

Sam smiled at the Asgard, and even on the bearded face he wore, the 
return smile looked odd when Thor's voice came from behind it.

"For a long time, it was thought that Fenrir might yet prove our distrust 
of Loki's brood misplaced, but in the end it was decided that the risk 
was too great. He was tricked into donning a restraining collar which 
prevents him travelling by Stargate, and placed on a primitive planet 
called Jelling before the device was activated."

"So you know where he is?" Jack asked.

"Yes. However, no Asgard may enter the system where that world is 
located. It is home to an ancient and insular race, who do not like 
intruders, or visitors."

"These guys can kick you out if they don't like you?"

"There are many powers in the universe which rival that of the Asgard, 
O'Neill."

"So how did you get Fenrir there in the first place?" Jack asked.

"This race dwell between the planets, and pay little attention to the 
comings and goings of beings who pass through the Stargate, but the 
Asgard once came in ships, and they are no longer welcome."

Jack shrugged. "So no Asgard, but we could still go. Right Teal'c?"

"Indeed, Colonel O'Neill," Teal'c agreed.

"Thank you, O'Neill."

"And what about Hel?" Daniel asked.

"We...do not know," Thor admitted. "She went into hiding soon after the 
hunt for her father began, and has not been seen since."

"Well...you only need one of these keys to stop Loki; right?"

"That is correct, Dr Jackson."

Daniel nodded. "So, if you can get Jormungandr's or Fenrir's, then Hel's 
won't matter. But, it's better to be safe than sorry. Now, the temple out 
there looks like it may have belonged to a Hel-cult. I'm willing to bet 
that she designed it to lead some poor unsuspecting fools to rescue her 
father. I'd also put money on there being a way to find her in there. 
Maybe in that chamber that opened the second time the runes were 
activated."

"What you say sounds plausible," Thor agreed.

"Well then," Daniel concluded "Amy can stay here and try to work out 
where Hel would be found, while we're tracking down the other two."

Sam frowned. "Surely you'd be better equipped than Amy to..."

"I'm going," Daniel said, firmly. "With you or with Jack and Teal'c, but 
I'm going."

"Dr Jackson," Thor said, gently. "You are most likely to aid in Dr 
Midhir's rescue by finding Hel. You have no skills that would increase 
the success of either of our teams, but you are needed here."

"I can't just stay here while she's out there," Daniel protested, 
angrily. "I won't...!"

Daniel turned and stormed out of the trailer. Sam looked to Jack, who 
shrugged, helplessly. "I'm not in his good books at the moment," he said. 
Sam nodded, and followed Daniel.

                         *******************

"Daniel," Sam said, softly. "You know Thor's right; Amy can't do this 
alone." They were standing by the trailer door, trying to avoid the 
attention of the hovering crowd of concerned students and volunteers.

"I can't do it, Sam," Daniel replied. "Not again."

"Do what?" She asked.

The look on Daniel's face was bleak. "Stand back, and wait for the people 
I love to die."

"Daniel..."

"I wasn't with you on Apophis' mothership."

"Because you were shot watching our backs on Klorel's. *We* left *you* 
for dead."

"When you fought the Replicators on the 'Biliskner' and the Blackbird, 
all I could do was watch."

"You had appendicitis, Daniel."

"I left you behind on PX9-757."

"You collapsed. Teal'c had to drag you out of that complex, and you both 
waited for us. It wasn't your fault; none of those were."

"I can't leave her," Daniel said, and Sam could hear the weight of guilt 
in his voice.

"There's more to this than you're saying; isn't there?"

Daniel refused to meet Sam's gaze.

Sam sighed. "Look, Daniel. You've saved all our butts before now, but you 
haven't done it by rushing in with a gun." She raised a hand to cut off 
his protest. "You're probably right that she needs help, but you'll do 
more for her here than you will haring off..."

"And getting in the way," Daniel finished.

"No," Sam assured him. "You don't get in the way, Daniel. But this, here, 
is what you're good at. It's what you do."

Daniel's shoulders slumped, and he assayed a weary smile. "I know," he 
said. "I just hate not being out there; looking for her. I got her into 
this, Sam. It's my fault she was there. I activated the transporter."

"And if you hadn't?" Sam challenged. "She was a smart woman, Daniel. 
She'd have worked it out herself, and then she'd be gone and no-one on 
Earth would know about it." She gripped his shoulder affectionately. "You 
take too much on yourself, Daniel."

"I know," he admitted again.

                         *******************

"Alright," Jack said. "So Thor will take Teal'c and I back to the SGC, 
and brief us on Fenrir before he and Sam head off for this prison. We'll 
lead a combat team through the Stargate to..." He paused.

"PX8-666," Sam reminded him.

"Right. Nothing ominous about that," Jack said, before picking up with: 
"...to PX8-666, to find Fenrir and give him a good going over. Daniel; 
you'll stay here with SG-6 and try to track Hel, and... What'll you do if 
you find her?" He asked.

"Probably try to follow and get her key," Daniel said. "If it looks 
dicey, we'll ask General Hammond for additional backup before we go, but 
I don't think we'll gain anything by waiting around."

"Don't do anything stupid, Daniel," Jack cautioned. We'd like to get you 
back in one piece."

"I won't. But there's a timescale involved here, and it's not just 
about..."

Cassandra had been sitting quietly throughout, and was starting to drop 
off when, without ceremony, Teal'c rose from his seat and moved to the 
door.

"What...?" Cassandra began, but he held up his hand to stop her. Then he 
wrenched open the door, reached out, and dragged someone inside.

"Mary?" Jack asked, confused.

"She was listening at the door," Teal'c explained. "And has been doing so 
for some time."

"We were worried," Mary said, defiantly. "It's all so weird, having armed 
guards to keep us out of an unstable tomb; that's not normal. And none of 
us saw you bring Dr Midhir out, and what does a Canadian dig site have to 
do with the US Army anyway?"

"Air Force," Jack corrected her.

"Air Force, Army; whatever. Point is, this is all some weird conspiracy. 
I heard those two outside, talking about 'motherships' and 
'replicators'..."

"Carter?"

"I was distracted, Sir," Sam answered, defensively. "It's supposed to be 
your job to do the guy talk thing."

"...and all that stuff in here about spaceships and aliens and the end of 
the world," Mary continued. "We want to know what this is all about, and 
we want to know where Dr Midhir is, right now."

Jack just gazed at the girl in disbelief. "Okay; first thing: Not a 
conspiracy. Second thing: If we were a conspiracy, telling us you know 
we're the conspiracy? Not the smartest thing to do."

"Where is Dr Midhir?" Mary demanded, controlling her fear well.

"We don't know," Jack replied. "Exactly. We hope we'll be able to find 
her, but..."

"I'm coming with you," Mary said.

"That would be most unwise," Teal'c told her.

"Wise? I don't care from wise. I care that my friend is missing, and that 
the US Government is involved somehow. So either you take me with you, or 
I go out there and tell everyone what you were talking about!"

Jack turned to Daniel. "Are all archaeologists this self-righteous?" He 
demanded.

"Most of us," Daniel admitted. "It comes from being right so much of the 
time. But take her or leave her, we should move on this, now."

"Loki can't reach all of his children that fast," Sam assured him. "He'll 
have to Gate to PX8-666 if nothing else."

"It's not just about 'Naglfar,'" Daniel told her. "It's about Annie. I 
don't know why Loki took her, but whatever his reason, we need to get to 
her before..." He tailed off, as Mary shot him a panicked look.

"Before what, Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c asked.

"Before he gets bored."

                         *******************

After the light faded, Angharad had found herself in another metal-walled 
complex, along with the ragged and shaggy-haired creature who could only 
be the trickster god, Loki. Wild-eyed, the man was clutching her about 
the waist in a cruel grip, startling strength in his atrophied, jaundiced 
limbs. She beat at him with her hands, and kicked as best she could at 
his shins, but he barely seemed to feel the blows as his soft, wasted 
flesh yielded like putty under her assault. In desperation, she resorted 
to grabbing a fistful of his lank, matted hair and pulling on it, crying 
out in disgust as she felt it tear free of his scalp.

At that last, Loki gave a scream of pain, and hurled Angharad across the 
room. She fell hard, tumbling in a pile against the wall. She looked up, 
afraid, but saw that Loki was ignoring her, staring about in confusion.

"Where am I?" He wondered aloud, voicing Angharad's concerns as well. She 
thought that she might have fallen and bumped her head; the words sounded 
distorted and echoing.

"On board the Kalliste. You are free, Lord."

Angharad turned to see the woman who had spoken, her voice sounding as 
strange as Loki's. She was barely more than a child, sixteen or maybe 
seventeen years old, with flawless olive skin and oil-black hair. A 
wicked smile played on her lips, and her eyes danced with a delighted 
fire, somewhere between malice and mischief. She was dressed in a dark 
green chiton, belted tightly at the waist and open along the length of 
her left leg, and wore an abundance of jewellery. A strange gauntlet of 
metal strips was wrapped around her left hand.

Loki stumbled forward, catching the girl by the shoulders. He peered at 
her, then leaned close and sniffed her skin. "Eris?" He asked, 
uncertainly.

"Yes, Lord," the girl replied, gazing at him in sorrow. "It has been so 
long for you, and you are so much reduced; but a spell in the sarcophagus 
will see you restored to yourself again."

"Sarcophagus," Loki grunted. "Yes. Take me there. Now!"

"And the woman, Lord?"

"Woman?" Loki looked around, seeming to notice Angharad for the first 
time. "She is his," he said.

Eris disengaged herself from Loki and approached Angharad, who rose to 
face her on her feet. She was a good six inches taller than the girl, but 
Eris radiated an untouchable arrogance which made her seem twice her 
actual height.

"Ah, yes," Eris said, reaching out and taking hold of the Mjollnir 
pendant.

"Don't touch that," Angharad warned, grabbing the girl's by the wrist.

Eris' smile never faltered, as with her free hand she caught Angharad's 
wrist and bent it backwards, forcing her to release her grip. Her 
strength was almost inhuman.

"*Never* touch me again," Eris cautioned. Then she tugged, snapping the 
chain, and held the amulet in the palm of her hand. "No power in this," 
she commented. "But she reeks of the Asgard."

Angrily, Angharad shoved the girl back. "Get off me!" She commanded.

Eris took a step back, her eyes blazing with hatred...literally. Angharad 
gasped at the sight of that white glow. She tried to move away, but the 
wall was at her back.

"I told you never to touch me again," Eris reminded Angharad. Then she 
thrust out her hand into Angharad's chest, and Angharad felt her whole 
body shudder at the impact. She collapsed, gasping and retching to the 
floor, unable to raise her eye beyond Eris' perfectly pedicured toes.

"Stop playing, Eris." Loki rasped. "Secure the wench, and take me to my 
sarcophagus."

"As you command, Lord," Eris acquiesced. The toe of her sandal snapped 
upwards, and black light exploded across Angharad's vision.

                         *******************

Angharad had no way of knowing how much time had passed since then. She 
had been unconscious for God knew how long, and when she awoke in this 
cell, her watch had been taken, along with her shoes, car keys, trowels 
and toothbrush.

She woke, lying on a bench, and with some discomfort raised herself into 
a sitting position. There was a fierce ache across her right eyebrow, and 
when she touched it, she felt the tackiness of dried blood. There was 
only a little light in the cell, but she could see enough to make out a 
neatly-folded pile of clothes on a second bench. There was no food, but 
fortunately she did not much feel like eating. The clothes proved to be a 
chiton, much like Eris', and Angharad decided to stick with her muddy 
site gear.

Instinctively, as she always did when she felt afraid, she reached to her 
amulet, and found it gone. Eris must still have it, she realised.

She was growing more confused by the minute. Loki she could handle, and 
she was not about to start poo-pooing other religions, but why would Eris 
and Loki work together? Was there some kind of goofy, international 
league of tricksters? Was Coyote about to shove his oar in?

She heard footsteps outside, and then the door opened, admitting a young 
man wearing a kirtle tunic and long breeches. The garments were brightly 
coloured, and like Eris he wore a great many accessories: ropes of beads 
hung beside a bronze torque around his neck, and ribbon-gauntlet just 
like the girl's twined around his left hand. On his feet were sealskin 
boots, about his waist a leather belt, from which hung a knife and a 
scramaseax. He had shoulder-length, flaxen hair and a neatly trimmed 
beard, and blue eyes shone from a weathered face. He was achingly 
handsome, but radiated an arrogance that made Angharad shudder.

Aside from the gauntlet, he looked every inch the Viking noble.

"You worship the Thunderer?" He asked. His voice was soft, but still 
there was that rumble.

"I do," she replied. At least her own voice sounded normal.

"You will renounce him, and worship us," the man said.

"Us?" Angharad asked. "Who are...Loki," she realised.

His eyes burned white. "Yes. We are Loki. We are your god now."

Angharad stood, a little shakily, but managed to hold herself straight 
and upright. "Never," she said, impressed at how steady she was able to 
keep her voice.

Loki's eyes flared, and his back-handed swing - so casually executed that 
she never saw it coming - knocked her from her feet. She turned and 
glowered up at him, but he acted as though he had done nothing. She 
started up, but he held out his hand, and the stone at the centre of his 
gauntlet glowed.

Angharad froze, then slowly settled back to the floor. She might have no 
idea how a Goa'uld hand device worked, but she knew a weapon when she was 
threatened with it.

Loki laughed, softly, and backed away to the door. "We shall see, wench," 
he said. "We shall see."

                         *******************

Tuesday.

Jack O'Neill was in a pensive mood as he packed the last of his things 
for the journey back to Cheyenne Mountain. While it was not unusual for 
him to set off on crazy, ill-thought-out missions to the far side of the 
galaxy, it was almost unheard of for him to do so without the company of 
his full team. The last time they had been so divided, he and Teal'c had 
almost been killed by Replicators on board a pre-atomic Russian 
submarine.

With a sigh, Jack finished stowing his tent, and shouldered his bag. If 
nothing else, he would not miss the Newfoundland weather, he decided.

He made his way across the site to the central trench, and the massive, 
enigmatic stone structure which had brought them here in the first place. 
He passed the guards at the entrance - the two junior members of SG-6 - 
and made his way down to the main chamber. Thor was waiting for him - 
still in disguise - along with Major Carter, Teal'c and of course Mary, 
with a nervous grin on her round, open face. As Mary could not be left to 
reveal what she had heard to the press, and was not willing to remain 
with Daniel at the site - and as Jack did not really want to kill her and 
dump her body in a ditch - it had been decided that she should come back 
to the mountain, and accompany Jack to Jelling. With any luck, he could 
have General Hammond confine her during the mission, and find a way to 
deal with her later.

Daniel was waiting to see them off, as were Ferretti, Cassandra, and 
Llew. Cassie and Llew were holding hands - they had apparently been 
joined at the palm since the first time the entered the tomb - but it was 
a gesture of mutual fear and comfort, and so Jack was not too worried 
about anything happening between them just now.

"Sure you wouldn't rather come home?" Jack asked Cassandra.

The girl shook her head. "I think I can help here," she said. "And I'll 
be real careful," she added, talking not only to Jack but to all of SG-1; 
her surrogate family.

Sam hugged the girl goodbye, and Cassie returned the gesture. Since the 
start of this thing with Loki, she had let her teenage tough-girl image 
slide. Jack kind of liked the overall effect, but he knew he would be 
glad to see the arrogant, insolent Cassandra return once it was all over.

"Good luck, Jack," Daniel said, his voice brittle. He was desperately 
worried about Angharad, trapped and alone on Loki's mothership, or 
spirited off to who knew where for who knew what purpose, but for Llew's 
sake, he was trying to hide his fear.

"You too, Daniel." Jack turned to Cassie. "Take care of these clowns 
won't you?" He asked, gesturing to Daniel and Ferretti.

"Surely will," the girl replied.

"Okay, Thor," Jack said. "When you're ready."

The Asgard raised his arms, and the light came down.

                         *******************

Hel's Teeth
By The Prophet - prophet@phlegethon.org


RATING: PG-13

WARNINGS: Violence (some sexualised)

CATEGORY: Action/adventure

PAIRING: Daniel/other UST, other pairing

SPOILERS: Spoilers for Singularity, Solitudes, 1969, Nemesis, Absolute 
Power, Rite of Passage, Summit

TIME FRAME: Season 5

SUMMARY: With his friend missing and the Asgard's archenemy on the loose, 
Daniel races against time to locate a fugitive Harcesis before Loki does.

DISCLAIMER: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate 
(II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and 
Gekko Productions. This story is written purely for my own entertainment, 
and that of anyone else who may happen to read it. No infringement of 
copyright is intended. It is not intended and should never be used for 
commercial purposes.

The original characters, situations and ideas contained within this work 
are the property of the author

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the second part of an epic fan fiction, 
Æsirhættir, begun in Tears of a Clown and continued in Wolf's Head, The 
World Serpent and Ragnarok.

Skraeling was the name given by the Norse explorers to the indigenous 
peoples of northern Greenland and North America.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Thanks as ever to my fanfic beta reader and part-time 
muse, Sho.

The Prophet, 12th July 2002

                         *******************

Hel's Teeth

Tuesday.	

Once Jack, Sam, Teal'c and the others had gone, Daniel headed down 
through the passageway that had been hidden behind the main chamber, 
ruminating on what Thor had told him about the woman they were searching 
for.

                         *******************

"You must be on your guard, Daniel Jackson," the Asgard had warned. "Hel 
is a dangerous opponent; her powers of deception rivalled only by her 
father's."

"She's Harcesis, yes?" Daniel asked. "So physically she's only human."

"Biologically she was born human," Thor replied. "But she is no longer 
bound by human physical limits. Loki made adjustments to her body to 
increase her strength and stamina from her earliest childhood, and when 
she was old enough, she did the same to herself. When last the Asgard 
knew of her whereabouts and status, she was physically the equal of any 
Goa'uld or Jaffa. She might not be a match for her brothers, but she far 
exceeds them in cunning and ruthlessness.

"Hel also has the ability to utilise Goa'uld technology, and was known to 
enhance Goa'uld devices using Asgard methods. Her skill in all fields of 
science was impressive, even to the Asgard."

Daniel was appalled. "She's a better technologist than the Asgard?"

"I said that her ability impressed us; not that it was superior to our 
own. There were many among the Council who were quite taken aback when 
humans began using tools."

"How flattering," Daniel replied.

"I have a great deal of information on Hel," Thor continued. "But I do 
not know how much would be relevant, and as you have said yourself, we do 
not have much time. Is there anything which you wish to know to help you 
in your research?"

Daniel shook his head. "I can't think of anything."

Of course, now that the Asgard had departed, Daniel had a million 
questions that he wanted to ask about Hel; about her capabilities, her 
followers, and her last known location. He wished he could have thought 
of these things earlier, but then his mind was not really working at 
optimum capacity at the moment.

Daniel was bitterly afraid for Angharad Midhir, held captive by a Goa'uld 
of noted viciousness, who was possibly not quite right in the head after 
spending two thousand years in searing agony. Perhaps even more worrying 
was Loki's mythological reputation as a rapacious womaniser. Angharad was 
a tough woman, possibly the strongest person Daniel knew outside the SGC, 
but Daniel knew her secrets, and had seen the paralysing fear in her eyes 
when Loki grabbed hold of her.

                         *******************

The inner chamber lay some fifty feet beyond, and five below the main. As 
well as the hidden door, somehow triggered by the same command sequence 
which transported Daniel, Jack and Angharad to Loki's prison on the far 
side of the Universe, there was a heavy slab at the far end of the 
passage, on which was carved an Egyptian-style cartouche, filled with 
runic symbols. Amy Kawalsky stood before the slab, studying the 
hieroglyphs by the light of an electric lantern.

"So, what have we got?" Daniel asked, anxiously.

"Standard abandon hope all ye spiel," Amy replied. "'The Gate of Hel,'" 
she read. "'Death to those who cross the threshold.' The Goa'uld never 
were much for positive spin."

"Is there an opening glyph?" Daniel asked.

"Left hand side," Amy said. "Just over there."

Daniel nodded, and worked the mechanism. The slab moved upwards and 
vanished. The chamber beyond was dark, and only a little smaller than the 
main space above. Amy held her breath as Daniel passed through the 
portal, but followed closely on his heels and looked around her. In the 
middle of the darkened space stood a crude approximation of an Asgard 
control console, its activating runestones still in place on its surface.

What immediately grabbed Amy's attention however, was the desiccated 
corpse of a human, resting in a sitting position against the console, 
dressed in the tattered and fading remnants of a rough tunic and 
breeches. A talisman hung about it's neck, bearing a full-face image of a 
horse's head, and a sword and seax were still bound loosely at his waist 
by the dried and cracking remains of a leather belt and scabbards.

"Who was this poor fellow?" Amy asked, rhetorically.

"Narvi, son of Jof," Daniel told her. "Last loyal priest of the cult of 
Loki."

"How do you..." Daniel pointed, and she followed his gaze to the wall by 
the door, where a runic text had been scratched into the stone.

Sure enough, it began: 'Read here the words of Narvi, son of Jof, last 
loyal priest of Loki...'

"It's a history of this temple," Daniel went on, translating the text 
almost as fast as Amy would have read English. Watching him struggle with 
alien languages in alien alphabets, it was sometimes possible to forget 
just how good a linguist Daniel was. "It was built by a group of Loki 
worshippers who left the Greenland colony after the return of the Vinland 
party. They were led here by the Black Goddess; Hel incarnate, given 
flesh to walk the earth, bringing misery and woe to the sons and 
daughters of the Æsir. That must have been our girl," he mused.

"She took a group of...can you bring the light over, Amy?" Daniel asked, 
impatiently.

Amy bit back a retort, and just handed him the lantern.

"Yes; she travelled from Norway to Orkney, Iceland and Greenland, 
gathering a following of murderers and traitors, all of whom refused to 
bow to the God of the South - Christianity," he added. "She taught them 
that the Æsir were weak, but that Loki would lead them to a land free of 
Christians, bring Ragnarok upon the world and lead them to glory. From 
Greenland they came to Vinland, and from there to here.

"Hel's power held the Skraelings at bay, and the colonists built a 
village, and 'raised the earth around it, and a wall of mighty staves'; 
the palisade. With the fire-spears which Hel gave to them..."

"Staff weapons?" Amy asked.

"I guess. Anyway, they kept their people safe using them, and the colony 
prospered. After a time however, Hel left the colony, and after a hundred 
years and still no Ragnarok, the people lost faith in Loki. Many began to 
speak of peace to the hateful Skraelings, and one night they tore down a 
section of the palisade, and let the Skraelings in to kill the priests.

"Narvi fled into the temple, past the great shrine of Loki, to this 
chamber; the shrine of Hel. As his grandfather was instructed by Hel, 
against such a crisis, he placed the sacred stone in the centre of the 
altar. He expected the Goddess to come to him, but instead the portal 
sealed behind him, trapping him inside, and he could not open it again. 
Narvi waited for the Black Goddess to come to him and smite the 
unbelievers, but she never did."

"He must have starved down here," Amy said, horrified.

"He hasn't decayed," Daniel remarked. "Just desiccated. With the door 
sealed, this chamber must have been completely dry. When they were done 
with the remaining loyalists, and they couldn't get into the shrines, the 
colonists and the Skraelings must have defaced the murals and sealed the 
tomb."

Tentatively, Daniel moved one of the runestones on the console. Nothing 
happened. "This thing is as dead as old Narvi!" He exclaimed, angrily.

"Calm down, Daniel," Amy said, soothingly.

"How can I calm down!" He snapped.

"I said, calm down," Amy repeated. "Not stop caring. And there's no need 
to bite my head off." She tried to look stern and disapproving, but was 
not entirely successful in keeping the hurt from her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Amy," he said, sincerely. "It's just..."

Amy sighed. "I understand," she assured him. "I'll ask Pearson to have a 
look at the console; he's our technician."

"I just...I could use some good news about now."

"I got my funding," Amy offered. "I know it's not quite what you had in 
mind, but..."

Daniel's face broke into a smile, even if the sadness and worry never 
quite left his brow. "Amy; that's fantastic."

"It means transferring team again; SG-11. I'll miss the guys, but this is 
what I want to do," she added. As she spoke, she took out a small torch 
and began examining the walls, circling in the opposite direction to 
Daniel.

Daniel was continuing to move slowly around the room with the lantern as 
he asked, with exaggerated nonchalance: "Who's your supervisor?"

"Dr Collister," Amy replied.

Daniel nodded. "She's a good choice," he said. Lauren Collister, the 
senior field researcher with SG-11, was a superb and open-minded 
archaeologist, and Daniel had a lot of time for her work. All the same, 
he could not keep a slight bitterness out of his voice.

Amy turned and smiled at him. "I did think about asking you," she assured 
Daniel. "But It'd feel wrong being your student *and* your sexy stalker."

Daniel smiled. "And heaven forbid you'd give up the latter. Did you 
settle on a title yet?"

Amy shook her head. "I went with 'Language, thought and freedom: A survey 
of Ancient Egyptian and Mesopotamian texts as pro- and anti-establishment 
propaganda' as a provisional, but I'll come up with something catchier 
later on. I'm not sure how I'll manage trying to present my work as pure 
archaeology, instead of theories culled from anthropological studies of 
living cultures on other planets," she added.

"Just don't choke in the viva - or quote any of my papers - and you'll be 
fine," Daniel assured her. "I'm very proud of you Amy."

The girl blushed, but she deserved the praise. Daniel knew how hard she 
had worked preparing her PhD applications, and how difficult it had been 
for her to make the decision to take a part-time course which would 
inevitably take her away from the exploration and expeditionary work that 
she loved so much. He also knew that he was a big part of her decision, 
and that without his influence she would probably have been content to 
focus on her career as an Air Force officer, instead of pushing herself 
to gain a doctorate as well.

"Thanks, Daniel," Amy said. "That means a lot to m...other of mercy!"

"Amy?"

"Look at this!"

Daniel came over, and held up the lantern, putting the beam from Amy's 
torch to shame. In the bright glare, he saw revealed a great ring, maybe 
nine feet across, set into the wall. He reached out an touched the 
surface of the ring, gingerly. It was cool to the touch, but not cold, 
and strangely slick.

"Is that...?" Amy asked.

Daniel nodded. "Naquadah," he confirmed.

Sudden light flooded the chamber, pouring from light fittings around the 
top of the walls and causing Daniel and Amy to start violently.

"That wasn't me," Cassandra said, behind them. Daniel turned, slowly, to 
see Cassie and Llew standing at the console. The runestones on the 
surface were now lit from within; the console was active.

"What did you do?" Daniel asked.

"Nothing," Cassie insisted. "I just put my hand on the surface, and..."

Daniel hurried around the console to stand at Cassandra's side.

"I didn't touch any controls, honest," Cassie repeated.

"She really didn't," Llew said, supportively.

"I never said you did," Daniel replied. He lifted a runestone from its 
cradle, and moved it to another position on the console. Nothing 
happened.

Cassandra reached out to touch the stone Daniel had moved, but snatched 
her hand away when it glowed for a moment. Then a panel opened in the 
console surface, and a Goa'uld vo'cume rose into view. Light flowed from 
the sphere, and a young and beautiful face appeared.

"Greetings to you who have found this place," the woman said, in the 
tones and language of the Goa'uld. "If you seek us, then the path lies 
before you, and in our name shall you pave the road. If you seek us not, 
then go back now, for we have little patience for idle callers."

"The path lies before you," Amy mused, as the vo'cume faded into 
darkness, then lowered out of sight.

"But the only exit is behind us," Daniel noted.

"Maybe not," Amy said, thoughtfully.

"What do you mean?" Cassandra asked.

"That's a Stargate," Amy replied, pointing to the ring on the wall.

Daniel looked sceptical. "If that's a Stargate, it's a pretty careless 
place for it. Even if the opening vortex of the wormhole is 
proportionately smaller than that of the full-sized Gates, it would 
engulf anyone standing here, and disintegrate half of the console itself. 
Also, it's fixed in place; it couldn't rotate. And there are no chevron 
locks. It couldn't dial."

"Well..." Amy pondered. "What if it only goes to one place? Is there a 
keypad on the red phone in General Hammond's office? If this is a direct 
link, it may not need to dial at all. And whenever the Asgard or the 
Tollan, or any wandering Goa'uld use a speed-dialler to activate the 
Gate, there's no vortex," she added.

"I don't buy it," Daniel said.

"And if I prove you wrong?"

"I'll buy you dinner to celebrate getting your funding. But if you don't, 
it's your treat."

Amy beamed. "Done," she said, coming around to the control console.

"Be careful," Daniel said. "You can't eat much dinner if the opening 
vortex sucks your head off." His words were light, but Daniel's tone 
betrayed his deep concern for Amy's well-being.

"I'll be careful," she promised, giving him a fond look, before returning 
her attention to the console. "Okay, so this ring probably represents the 
Gate," she said. "And there are two cradles. So we're looking for a two 
stone combination, out of twenty-four runes. Now Hel said that her name 
would pave the road, so probably we're looking..."

"Hagalaz and Laguz," Llew supplied.

Amy nodded her thanks, and picked up the relevant runes. "You guys might 
want to step back," she suggested. "Just in case I'm wrong about the no 
vortex." Daniel led Cassie and Llew over to the side of the chamber. 
"Here goes nothing," she said. Then she inserted the stones, and threw 
herself aside.

Nothing happened.

"There went nothing," Cassie agreed. Then the lights went out.

"No," Amy corrected. "I killed the lights. A significant achievement, I 
think you'll agree."

                         *******************

"So," Daniel asked. "Can Sergeant Pearson find anything wrong with the 
control console?"

"No," Ferretti replied, awkwardly. After a moment, he added: "Actually, 
Pearson can't find anything with the console, period. No maintenance 
hatches, no workings; nothing. This is the first time he's had any chance 
to study Asgard tech, and it's got him stumped."

Daniel was conferring with Ferretti and Amy over dinner in the trailer. 
Cassie and Llew were there as well, having become the archaeologist's 
constant shadow, their concern mirroring his own. No-one had much of an 
appetite, but with military discipline, the two Air Force officers at 
least forced themselves to eat.

"It's the first time anyone's really had a chance to study Asgard tech," 
Amy added. "They play it close to the chest, those guys. Besides, it's 
probably not pure Asgard anymore than Goa'uld."

"So our only lead is a dead end," Daniel muttered, angrily.

"He managed to get the recording sphere out," Ferretti continued. "But he 
can't make it do anything."

"So how come the lights went on?" Cassandra asked. "And how come the 
sphere activated when Daniel moved that one stone?"

"I don't know," Daniel replied, impatiently, stabbing aggressively at his 
chicken.

"When you touched it," Llew noted, offhandedly.

"What?" Daniel asked, sharply.

Llew looked startled. "I was just saying; the stone lit up when Cassie 
touched it, not when you moved it." Llew shifted uncomfortably under 
Daniel's suddenly intense gaze. "Stop looking at me like that," he said. 
"You're making my skin crawl."

"Now you know how everyone else feels," Cassie told him, resting a hand 
on his arm. Then she looked at Daniel, who, truth to tell, was making her 
nervous as well. "What is it?" She asked.

"I know how it works," he said.

"You've deciphered the mysteries of Asgard technology through your 
chicken stew?" Amy asked, sceptically.

Daniel shot Amy a look of amused patience, his black mood broken a 
little. "Amy," he said. "Imagine you're a Goa'uld."

"Okay," she replied. "Should I torture your friends until you like me?"

"Cute. Now imagine you want to hide where only another Goa'uld could find 
you. So you build a miniature Stargate, good for only one destination."

"Assuming that a Goa'uld could do that, you so owe me dinner," Amy told 
him.

"I'm proving myself wrong," Daniel replied. "So technically you owe me 
dinner. And anyway, we're imagining you're a Goa'uld, and I make a point 
of never dating the Goa'uld. They're only ever interested in me for my 
body."

"I'm only interested in you for your body." Amy grinned at Daniel, and he 
beamed back at her, caught up in the excitement of exposition.

"So, as a Goa'uld in hiding," Daniel continued. "Who can make a Stargate. 
How do you make sure that no-one but another Goa'uld can use the Gate?"

Amy groaned, and tilted back her head to stare, despairing, at the 
ceiling. "Of course."

"Okay," Ferretti said. "Now you both get it, care to explain it to us 
mere mortals?"

"Only a Goa'uld can use most Goa'uld technology," Cassie told him, 
nodding her head in emphatic understanding. "It's activated by will, 
channelled through the naquadah in their blood, and *I* still have 
naquadah in *my* blood. Obviously, that gives me the ability to operate 
the controls."

"Very good," Daniel commended the girl. "But not only that," he added. 
"The console only activated when you were near to it. It must be built to 
detect the same signature that the Goa'uld use to sense each other."

Amy snapped her fingers. "And that's why when Teal'c entered the sequence 
in the tomb, the door opened, instead of the transporter activating."

"Of course!" Daniel agreed, getting into his stride. "The complex where 
Loki was trapped probably had defences to stop a Goa'uld or Jaffa 
entering and freeing Loki. Hel probably didn't have time to finish what 
she was doing at the tomb before she had to go into hiding, so she left 
the controls as a test, hoping that any human sophisticated enough to 
solve the code would be able to free her father, and willing when they 
saw his suffering. But a Goa'uld or Jaffa wouldn't be transported, 
because they'd fall foul of the defences and maybe give the game away 
before Hel was ready; instead they would be admitted to the inner 
sanctum."

"So I should be able to open the Gate," Cassandra said.

"I think so," Daniel agreed. "We should probably wait until the morning," 
he said, grudgingly. "But then you can open the Gate, and if it works, 
we'll go through."

"Cool," Cassie said. "Do I get a gun?"

Daniel looked at her, hard. "You're not coming," he said.

Cassandra tried to hide her disappointment, with limited success. "But 
what if the Gate on the other end of this is powered by the same set up?" 
She demanded. "I might be the only one who can get you home."

"We'll take the chance," Daniel said. "You're not coming with us, 
Cassandra. You know your mother would never allow it." Cassie tried to 
form a protest, but Daniel cut her off. "And don't tell me she's not your 
mother," he said, firmly. "Because you know as well as I do that it's not 
true in any way that counts."

"What if you can't get back?" Llew asked. "What about Mam?" Daniel's face 
darkened, but the boy pressed on. "If you can't get back with that stone, 
what good are you to her." His words were accusing, but his frail tone 
revealed only fear and anxiety.

"We'll think of something," Daniel said, in a tight, pained voice. "But 
I'm not taking either of you through that Gate, and that's final."

                         *******************

Wednesday

Daniel stumbled hard as the wormhole spat him out, dropping into a 
somewhat ungainly roll. He tried to rise, but his muscles were cramped. 
His breath steamed, and he realised that he was covered in a thin rime of 
frost. It had been almost five years since he had travelled through an 
uncorrected wormhole, and he had forgotten just how bad it felt. 
Ferretti, who had come through in front of him, was fighting the urge to 
vomit, but managed to keep his weapon raised and his eyes on his 
surroundings.

"Well," he said, as Daniel got his bearings. "That was bracing."

The Gateroom they had arrived in was decorated very much in the favoured 
Goa'uld style, and looked like the interior of a mothership. There were 
no windows in the chamber, and no people either, but he could hear a 
distant moaning, like a thousand muted cries of pain. The chamber was lit 
by small lights set into the walls.

Behind Daniel, Amy emerged, managing a slightly more graceful roll than 
Daniel's, but still stumbling at the end of it. She looked stunned, 
literally breathless at the shock of sudden cold. The frost on her skin 
began to melt almost immediately, and, Daniel began to realise that 
wherever they were, it was very hot.

Lieutenant Roberts and Sergeant Pearson fell hard on re-entry, and like 
Amy seemed completely disoriented. Of course, none of them had ever 
experienced anything quite like this before. Ferretti and Daniel had both 
spent their first few missions ardently wishing someone would come up 
with a way to stop it happening. Fortunately, Sam had done just that by 
making the calculations necessary to compensate for the expansion of the 
universe, but it did leave their younger comrades unprepared for the 
shocking reality at a time like this.

The sound of the gate rippling announced two more arrivals in quick 
succession, and Daniel turned angrily.

"I s-slipped," Cassandra stammered, shivering from the cold.

Daniel turned his glower on Llew. "I t-tried to c-c-catch her," the boy 
offered. "Good gods, that's cold." The Gate snapped closed.

"You'll be missing it in a moment," Daniel assured them, feeling sweat 
begin to bead on his forehead. "But don't worry, you'll get to feel it 
all over again when we send you back."

"But, Daniel..." Cassie pleaded.

"No," the archaeologist replied, firmly.

"But we're here now, and..."

"This is not a game!" Daniel snapped. "Don't you understand that? You, of 
all people, Cassandra. You know what the Goa'uld are capable of, and you 
know that they're interested in you, and what Nirtti did to you. I won't 
deliver you to them, so don't ask me. This discussion is over," he added, 
cutting off Cassie's attempt to speak. "You're going back."

"Um...Daniel," Amy said.

"What?" Daniel asked, warily, hearing the hesitation in her voice.

"I'm not sure we can send them back. There aren't any controls."

"Great," Daniel muttered. "That's just great."

"Well, it's not safe to leave them," Amy told him. "So we'll have to take 
them with us. I'll keep an eye on them," she promised.

Daniel sighed. "Okay. Fine. You two," he told Cassandra and Llew. "Stay 
with Amy; don't wander off; don't touch *anything* without asking me; and 
get your heads down at the first sign of trouble, and stay down. 
Understood."

"Yes, Colonel," Cassie replied, cheekily, then when Daniel frowned, she 
added more soberly: "I understand."

"I understand," Llew agreed. "We'll stay out of trouble. But I need 
to..." He broke off, looking awkward and afraid.

Daniel's face softened. "I know," he said.

"I found the door," Pearson reported.

                         *******************

As the door slid open, the Gateroom was bathed in bright, vividly-
coloured light, which swirled and changed constantly.

"It's like being inside a lava lamp," Daniel noted.

"I feel so retro," Amy agreed.

They stepped into the corridor, and saw that the walls were breached by 
great windows. The view beyond was distorted by the flickering of the 
force-fields which sealed the gaps in place of glass, but they could see 
that the light came from a storm which raged outside. Clouds boiled past, 
bright green, purple and pink, and lightning flashed, illuminating these 
iridescent masses of vapour from within.

"Nature's psychedelic light show," Amy noted. "We appear to have stumbled 
into the pad of a seventies pimp Goa'uld."

"Be careful," Daniel reminded her. "No Goa'uld should be taken lightly; 
not even one with big flares and a 'fro."

Amy nodded. "I wouldn't like to be out there," she added, gesturing to 
the windows. The force the winds must be hitting at to disturb a force 
field."

"It looks like the atmosphere of Venus," Cassandra said. "Well, 
simulations of it. If it's anything like that, then those clouds could 
strip the flesh off your bones if they were stationary."

"Okay then," Ferretti said. "Let's not go outside then. Everyone clear on 
that point?"

"Do you think this is Venus?" Daniel asked Cassandra.

"How the hell should I know?" The girl replied.

"Is that even possible?" Ferretti asked. "I thought the rule was one 
*star* system, one *Star*gate?"

"Well," Daniel said, theorising. "We know you can put more than one Gate 
on a planet, but that the Gate with the best power source supersedes all 
others for incoming wormholes. There's no reason that the same couldn't 
apply to multiple planets."

"But you can't dial another Gate on your own planet," Amy pointed out. 
"The co-ordinates would be the same as your own Gate, and besides; you 
can't activate both at the same time."

"But as you pointed out to me, Amy; we didn't dial anything. It's not 
inconceivable that these small Gates would function as a kind of in-
system network."

"Like an internal switchboard?" Llew suggested. "So they could dial 
between to their hearts content..."

"...but they couldn't dial out," Daniel finished. "Yes."

"I hate to break up the study group," Ferretti interrupted. "But 
someone's coming."

Instantly alert, the members of SG-6 moved to the sides of the corridor, 
crouching down to make the most of the limited cover. Daniel drew 
Cassandra and Llew out of sight behind a projecting stanchion, and 
readied his own weapon.

The sound of footsteps which had alerted Ferretti was soon apparent to 
all, coming closer from around a corner at the end of the hall. Daniel 
signalled urgently to Ferretti: 'How many.'

Up ahead, Ferretti caught the gesture, and returned: 'Seven.' That was an 
estimate of course, but Ferretti was a professional, so it certainly 
would not be fewer. That meant that SG-6 were outnumbered - not counting 
Cassandra and Llew, who were unarmed, and would stay that way - with no 
path of retreat. Daniel just hoped that whoever was coming would not be 
hostile, but then he always did. He tightened his grip on the P90 tucked 
against his arm, nervously, as the footsteps drew closer, and their 
makers stepped around the corner.

First came two figures, wrapped head-to-foot in bandages. They were 
probably male, and carried Goa'uld staff weapons. Then came a third 
wrapped figure, similarly shrouded but apparently female, carrying a 
small chest. She was followed by a young girl, no more than fifteen in 
appearance, with a strange, slightly waxen pallor to her skin, and 
lifeless flaxen hair. She was flanked by two more guards, and followed by 
three unarmed servants; two female, one male. All save the girl were 
bandaged.

"Stop!" Ferretti warned. "Identify yourself." The girl simply looked 
bemused by the scene before her. The guards made no move to bring their 
staff weapons into firing position.

Daniel slowly stood, lowering his weapon as he did so. "We are the 
intruders here, Colonel," he reminded Ferretti. "It might be polite to 
introduce ourselves first."

"Stay down," Ferretti cautioned, but with an obvious understanding of the 
futility of his warning. Amy Kawalsky might be a handful at times, but he 
would never trade her for Daniel Jackson. Colonel O'Neill was welcome to 
that headache.

"It's okay," Daniel assured him. "Hi there," he said, addressing the 
girl. "We come in peace." She still looked nonplussed, so Daniel switched 
into the Goa'uld tongue and tried again.

The girl bowed her head. "Greetings, Honoured Father of Hel," she said, 
in an oddly cadenced voice.

"Ah...no," Daniel corrected. "We're not..."

Amy interrupted with a feigned cough, shielding the words: "Bluff it!"

Daniel looked flustered for a moment, but rallied quickly. "We are not 
Loki. We are his envoy," he said. "Come to receive tribute from Loki's 
daughter."

The girl nodded her understanding. "Then we welcome you, honoured 
emissary." She stepped forward, and gestured for the servant with the 
casket to follow her. "Please accept this humble offering, as a gift from 
Hel to her father, in token of her eternal love and devotion." She opened 
the casket, and lifted out an intricately worked golden pendant, hung on 
a silver chain. Then she set the jewel back in its casket, and handed the 
box to Daniel.

"We thank you," Daniel said. "Lo'taur!" He called out, then in English. 
"Come here, Llew." The boy came forward, and Daniel passed the box to 
him. "Ditch it somewhere as soon as you get the chance," he cautioned. 
"Don't be obvious, but there's every chance it could explode if we 
outstay our welcome."

"Uh...okay," Llew agreed, nervously.

"Also, you just became my personal attendant for the remainder of this 
trip. Congratulations."

"Thanks."

"Don't mention it." Daniel turned to Ferretti. "Kree!" He ordered, 
adding: "Get everyone up and looking like a diplomatic escort."

"What kind of escort?" Ferretti asked, as SG-6 fell in behind Daniel. 
"Parade formal? Honour guard?"

"We're supposedly an envoy from one Goa'uld to another," Amy told him. 
"So a paranoid but polite one."

"Please, honoured envoy," the girl said. "May we know your name?"

"Daniel; and you are...?" Daniel replied without thinking.

"Ganglot," the girl replied, plainly flattered to be asked. "My mistress 
will be pleased to welcome you, but at present she is resting. She will 
be told of your arrival as soon as she wakes."

"Thank you, Ganglot," Daniel said. He knew the name; Ganglot, the 
handmaiden of Hel. That meant that the girl was probably far older, and 
more dangerous, than she looked.

"Perhaps in the meantime, you and your servants would care for what 
humble refreshments Eljudnir can offer?" Ganglot offered.

Daniel was wary of sampling food in the hall of Hel, but equally 
reluctant to draw Ganglot's suspicions. "We would be delighted," he 
assured her.

                         *******************

They followed Ganglot to a hall, small but richly decorated, where they 
were seated on plushly upholstered benches around a long, marble table. 
It took Daniel a few moments to recognise the room for what it was: The 
great hall of a Viking longhouse, done in the 'Egyptian decadence' style 
of the Goa'uld.

Moving with a curious, shambling motion, as though they were very weary, 
the bandaged servants brought food for the guests: Richly spiced stew for 
Daniel; bread and broth for the others. The food seemed odd, and Daniel 
realised that he could not identify any of the vegetables in his stew; 
nor the meat.

"The vegetables were once such as grow on Earth," Ganglot said, when he 
asked her what they were. "But they must be grown differently here, and 
they have changed. But they are still good?" She asked, hopefully; as 
eager to please as any servant for whom failure meant facing the casual 
brutality of a Goa'uld master. Cassandra had told Daniel that she did not 
believe that Ganglot was herself either Goa'uld or Jaffa, but that either 
she or the servants gave both Cassie and Llew an odd, almost sick 
feeling. She also added the caveat that the walls of the complex seemed 
loaded with naquadah, which might possibly interfere with her ability to 
sense the presence of a symbiote.

"They are good, yes," Daniel replied, although in truth they were 
somewhat tough; almost chewy.

"The 'meat' is not meat at all, but a kind of curd that we make from 
beans."

"Soy?" Daniel asked, but Ganglot plainly did not know the name, and she 
looked nervous to be left without and answer.

"That can't be worse than this slop," Cassandra said, watching Daniel 
force the stew down with a semblance of delight.

"Be polite," Daniel cautioned, and Cassie nodded.

The girl sat beside Llew, who as Daniel's supposed Lo'taur sat at his 
right. Their hands were clasped beneath the table, each trying to 
maintain a pretence of calm for the sake of the other. Daniel knew that 
they both regretted coming, and despite an attempt to be judgmental, he 
felt very sorry for them. He shared a concerned glance with Amy, but then 
turned back to Ganglot.

Daniel smiled at the girl, who blushed and looked away. When her skin 
coloured, Daniel noted that her veins showed clearly through her skin. 
Curious, he put out his hand to touch her face. A moment of fear showed 
in Ganglot's eyes, but she held perfectly still as Daniel ran his fingers 
down the curve of her jaw. Her skin was incredibly smooth and soft, 
almost like that of a newborn baby, and it felt extremely fragile, as 
though it would tear if Daniel pressed too hard.

Daniel filed these observations away for later consideration, and 
returned to the mission at hand. "After the safety of his daughter, our 
master, Loki, is most concerned for the safety of a keepsake which he 
entrusted to her," he said. "A particular runestone."

"I would know nothing of that, master," Ganglot replied, and Daniel felt 
a queasy knot in his stomach to be so addressed. Despite that distracting 
sensation however, he got the impression that she was not speaking the 
entire truth.

"You have never seen such a stone?" Daniel asked, baiting the girl. "That 
is odd, for we would have expected Loki's daughter to keep her father's 
gift in a place of high honour."

"I...I am sure that my mistress seeks only to keep such a precious thing 
safe," Ganglot replied, clearly afraid.

Daniel backed off, uncomfortable being the source of such fear. It made 
him feel like a Goa'uld, and that did not make him feel good about 
himself. "Perhaps we might be escorted to your mistress now?" He asked. 
The pretence would end once he was presented to Hel, of course. She would 
sense at once that he was not Goa'uld, but he would have to cross that 
bridge when he came to it, and he was painfully aware that every minute 
wasted left Annie at the mercy of her captor.

"I'm afraid that my mistress is still resting," Ganglot replied, 
nervously. She was probably afraid that Daniel would ask her to wake Hel, 
thus placing her in the awkward position of having to disobey one Goa'uld 
or the other; her mistress, or an emissary of her more powerful father.

"That's alright," Daniel assured her. "You serve your mistress well, 
Ganglot. She is fortunate to have such a faithful servant."

Ganglot's cheeks coloured again. To her left, Amy - the only one of his 
companions who spoke Goa'uld - stifled a laugh. "You dog, Dr Jackson," 
she said, in English.

Daniel gave her an affectionate glower.

"The woman is your companion, Lord Daniel?" Ganglot asked, warily, unable 
to follow their conversation.

"Oh, I wish," Amy scoffed.

"She is not," Daniel replied. Ganglot seemed pleased by the response, 
enough so that Pearson and Fenner hooted wildly at the sight. Amy just 
shook her head in mock despair, and Ferretti gave Daniel a concerned 
look, remembering the similar scene which had introduced the young 
Egyptologist to his future wife.

"A little decorum, please," Daniel reminded them. "I am supposed to be 
your dread master; some respect would help that illusion along."

Ganglot seemed entirely nonplussed by SG-6's behaviour. "You allow your 
servants to mock you?" She asked.

"Of course not," Daniel replied. "It is simply their custom to show 
respect in this way. They are a raucous people," he added, 
confidentially, but loud enough for Amy to hear. "And not terribly 
bright."

Amy shook with laughter, much to the consternation of her team-mates, who 
sensed that they had been disparaged, but had no idea how. Ganglot turned 
at the sound, and stared at Amy in a kind of baffled awe.

"Are you alright?" Daniel asked.

Again, Ganglot seemed confused. "I am well, Lord," she assured him, and 
Daniel remembered that the wellbeing of servants was not supposed to be 
his concern.

                         *******************

Dinner continued with a dessert of fruit and milk. Well, it seemed to be 
of fruit and milk, and Daniel decided not to ask too many questions of 
its origins.

"I am sorry that you must wait, but my mistress is still resting," 
Ganglot said, as the shuffling servants cleared away the dishes. "Perhaps 
you would care to take your ease until she rises. You and your servants 
are perhaps weary?"

"That would be...very nice," Daniel replied. "Thank you. Do you know when 
your mistress might rise?"

"I do not know," Ganglot answered, apologetically. "She requires much 
rest."

"Of course," Daniel said, scornfully. "How would she not. It must be 
tiring ordering all those servants around."

Ganglot gave a short, high laugh. Then she cut off, clasping a hand over 
her mouth in alarm. "I am sorry," she said, baffling Daniel completely. 
"Let me show you to where you may rest."

As the girl led them from the hall, Daniel walked alongside her, and Amy 
explained to the others what was going on. Llew was plainly becoming 
impatient, but no more so than Daniel. The archaeologist was straining to 
be civil with Ganglot, but Amy could see the tension in his shoulders, 
and knew that he was champing at the bit.

Ganglot took them to a short corridor, which looked little used. She 
directed SG-6 to a billet and Daniel's servants - Cassie and Llew - to 
another room, before leading Daniel himself to a more ornate door, which 
doubtless led to more opulent quarters.

"You will let me know when your mistress awakes," he said, remembering to 
make it a demand, and not a request.

"Of course," Ganglot promised. She reached out, and laid her hand flat on 
Daniel's chest. "Do you desire companionship, Lord?"

Daniel coloured, glad that none of SG-6 were around to witness this, then 
lifted her hand away. "No. Thank you, but no."

"As you wish," the girl acceded, with an air of disappointment. After a 
long pause, she withdrew her hand from his. "May your rest be peaceful," 
she said.

"Thank you," Daniel replied, drawing another curious glance from Ganglot, 
before she hurried away down the corridor.

As Daniel stepped back and pushed his door closed, he heard Amy's voice 
drift softly from the direction of the billet: "Daniel, you dog."

                         *******************

Amy lay down on one of the six hard slabs in the billet, stuffing her 
jacket under her head as a pillow, and tried not to let Daniel's latest 
conquest get to her. If most of the personnel at the SGC thought her 
flirtation with the archaeologist was a game, well, that was because she 
worked hard to project that image. But beneath her playful air, Amy 
Kawalsky held a deep and abiding affection for Daniel, not withstanding 
that he saw her only as a friend, and it did hurt to see him with other 
women.

Truth to tell though, it was not so much Ganglot that was bothering her; 
rather, it was the degree to which Daniel had been affected by the kidnap 
of Angharad Midhir. While Colonel O'Neill might joke about Daniel having 
a girl on every planet, very few of the women who developed crushes on 
him found their attention truly reciprocated. But here was a woman that 
he plainly cared about, and while Amy could not fault him for wanting to 
save a friend, she was all but consumed by jealousy. Moreover, while 
mostly he was still the same old Daniel - the Daniel she had joked with 
over the strange dinner - he had been unusually snappy and harsh. Again, 
it was understandable that he should lose patience for trivialities, but 
it hurt Amy more than she liked to admit when his ire was aimed at her.

Sometimes, she wondered if Daniel realised how much she cared for him, or 
if he also thought she was just fooling around. //And what would he think 
if he knew?// She thought to herself. //Does he not respond because he 
thinks I'm joking? Or would he run a mile if he knew I was serious?//

"Hey, Kawalsky!"

"Colonel," Amy replied, standing up beside her bunk.

"I want everyone to get some rest, but not all at once. You okay to take 
first watch?" He asked, concerned.

"Yes, Sir," she assured him.

"Okay. Keep the door open so you can hear anyone moving in the corridor. 
If nothing's happened in two hours, wake me up then, and you can get some 
shut-eye." He moved to his own bunk, but after a step he turned back. 
"You'd tell me if something was bothering you, right?"

Amy smiled, recognising Jack O'Neill's influence in her CO. "Of course," 
she lied.

Ferretti sighed and shook his head. "I like him as much as anyone," he 
said, moving closer to Amy so that their team-mates would not overhear. 
"But is he worth it?"

"I think so," Amy replied, touched by Ferretti's almost fatherly concern.

"I've told enough good soldiers not to throw their careers away over a 
girl. Same goes for a guy."

"I know that, Colonel," Amy assured him. "And I won't."

Ferretti shook his head again, and let the subject drop. "Two hours, 
Kawalsky," he said.

                         *******************

"Okay," Cassandra said, uncertainly. "See, I thought they'd stuck us in 
the same room because we were the kids. I was all prepared to be angry 
about it."

Llew just nodded.

"But I guess they are treating us as grown-ups after all."

"I guess," the youth agreed, eyeing the single bed that had been provided 
for them with the same trepidation as Cassie.

"This feels weird," Cassie said.

"Yep."

"I don't know why though," she admitted. "I mean, we were together all 
the last couple of nights."

"I think it's the bed," Llew suggested. "Something about a bed, I guess. 
The symbolism or whatever."

"I could ask Daniel about it, or Sam. They're both pretty wise with the 
psychology, except that they are never hearing about this."

"This is ridiculous," Llew said. "It's not like we're sleeping together. 
We're just...*going to sleep* together."

"Yeah," Cassandra agreed. "I mean, there's enough room for us both. Back 
to back."

"Back to back. Sounds good to me."

It was only a few hours since they had got up, but with the excitement 
and the strain of the Gate journey, they both felt immensely sleepy. They 
lay down on the bed, back to back. Cassie could feel the tension in Llew, 
and was not sure if it was fear of what Hel might do to them, or concern 
for his mother, or even her closeness making him tense. She only knew 
that she felt just as tense, and was just as unsure of the cause of her 
own disquiet.

Minutes later, they both turned, and held each other gently. Minutes 
after that, they were both fast asleep.

                         *******************

Daniel stretched out on the bed provided for him, ignoring the decadent 
furnishings of his quarters. Ordinarily, he would have scoured the room 
from top to bottom, identifying its cultural sources as best he was able, 
but he could not summon the interest. All of his mind was preoccupied 
with the thought of his imprisoned friend.

He lay there, his mind conjuring a hundred dire fates for Angharad, 
before he finally lapsed into a fitful sleep.

                         *******************

Wearily, Angharad picked herself up off the deck, and rose shakily to her 
feet. Eris glowered at her, angry that she should stand without asking 
permission.

"Kneel, slave!" The child-woman commanded.

"Bite me," Angharad challenged. By now she should have known better.

Eris lunged forward, snapping at Angharad's hand with her perfect teeth. 
Reflexively, Angharad struck at her assailant's face.

"Bitch!" Eris snarled, clutching at her nose in pain. She flung out her 
hand, and her gauntlet put forth its energy wave, knocking Angharad to 
the ground once more.

This had been going on all day. Or at least, as far as Angharad could 
tell; her watch was gone, along with her tools. Many times in the last 
few hours, since Eris had brought her from her cell to this bare chamber, 
she had wished for a good, sharp, sturdy trowel in her hand. There did 
not - as yet - seem to be much point to the exercise, beyond a certain 
sadistic joy that Eris seemed to take in inflicting harm.

Eris' eyes burned as Angharad pulled herself up again, and she held out 
her hand once more, not bothering with the niceties of issuing a command 
this time.

"Hold." Both Eris and Angharad turned towards the door at the sound of 
Loki's commanding voice. Stern and regal, the Trickster had the authority 
that his cohort clearly aspired to, yet touched with a hint of dangerous 
rebellion. If he had not abducted her, imprisoned her, threatened her, 
then sicced his psychotic little strumpet on her, Angharad would probably 
have found him quite attractive.

"Enough, Eris," Loki said. "Leave us now."

"But, Sire," Eris pleaded, the inhuman tone of her voice making her 
plaintive appeal sound all the more pathetic. "You said that I could 
play."

"Now," Loki repeated, with an air of finality.

Eris scowled at Angharad before she skulked away.

"Well," Angharad said, trying to affect a casual tone through the aching 
pain in her ribs. "She's certainly perky. Not the brightest God in the 
heavens, though."

Loki smiled, a benign expression, entirely devoid of warmth. "There 
were...complications," he explained. "When she took her host."

"Of course," Angharad said, although she was still a little vague on the 
subject of hosts and symbiotes. Eris had been forced to explain after her 
threat to implant Angharad had fallen rather flat, and her poor attention 
span had not made for coherent exposition.

"They were both too young;" Loki went on. "Eris and her host; but then 
she has always lacked patience. She became permanently bonded with that 
host, and it affected her mind, as you have seen."

"Why do you keep her around?" Angharad asked, fishing for weaknesses in 
this odd alliance.

Loki laughed, softly. "Her ways amuse us," he said. "And she is pleasing 
to the eye...and other parts."

Angharad shivered. "You're twisted," she told him.

"You try to hide it, but your fear is growing," Loki said. "We can smell 
it. Where is your god now?" He asked. "You are so devoted to the worship 
of that grey-skinned weakling, you might hope that he would show a little 
concern for you in return."

"He's probably just busy," Angharad replied.

"He is not coming, you fool. He does not care about one insignificant 
human."

Angharad smiled, a calm certainty filling her heart as she looked into 
the Trickster's eyes. "Yes he does," she told him.

Loki's eyes flared in rage, and he held out his hand, the gem in his 
gauntlet almost touching her forehead. Angharad wondered if she could 
shove past him and make a dash for it, but she had nowhere to go if she 
did get out, and if Eris were anything to judge by, Loki would be far too 
strong for her.

The crystal glowed, and Angharad felt her skin tingle as Loki passed his 
hand up and down the front of her body. The sensation was not exactly 
unpleasant, and that made it worse. She tried to cringe away, but the 
wall was at her back.

"Sire!" Eris cried, bursting through the door. Angharad slumped as the 
gauntlet shut off.

"We told you to leave, Eris," Loki snarled, advancing on the girl. "You 
know that when you disobey, you force us to hurt you."

Eris gave a dreamy smile. "I know," she assured him. "But that's not why 
I did it." Immediately she was serious again. "An Asgard scoutship passed 
close enough to detect us. We pursued it, but we can not intercept before 
it makes contact with an approaching mothership."

"Which ship?"

"The 'Biliskner,'" Eris replied. Angharad felt her heart race. Biliskner 
was the hall of Thor.

"That relict? The 'Kalliste' can lose her without difficulty."

"The old 'Biliskner' was destroyed," Eris informed him. "The ship which 
approaches is the third to bear that name since your imprisonment, and is 
one of the most advanced vessels in the Asgard fleet."

"He won't come for you," Angharad mocked, in a slightly breathless 
imitation of Loki. "He doesn't care about people."

With a roar, Loki turned and slammed his fist into Angharad's face. She 
collapsed to the deck, fighting a losing battle for consciousness. She 
could taste the iron bite of blood in her mouth, and brilliant purple 
lights exploded before her eyes.

"Take her back to her cell," Loki said, sounding very far away. "I will 
deal with her after we have lost the Asgard."

                         *******************

Daniel awoke to the feeling of someone shaking him gently by the 
shoulder.

"Lord Daniel?" Ganglot said.

Daniel rolled over to face Hel's handmaiden. "What is it, Ganglot?" He 
asked, gently.

"My mistress has arisen, and bids the emissary of her father attend her 
at his pleasure." The young woman stood at Daniel's bedside. She looked 
nervous, perhaps fearing that 'Lord Daniel' would not take kindly to 
being disturbed; or perhaps that she would be punished for laying a hand 
on him without permission.

"Okay. Great," he said. "Take me to her."

Ganglot seemed taken aback. "Now?" She asked. "Dressed like this?"

"What's wrong with my outfit?" Daniel asked. He was still half-asleep, 
and the words came out sharper than he had intended, causing Ganglot to 
flinch as if struck. "No," he said, longing to comfort her, but knowing 
he must not. "I have travelled far, and with few luxuries. Lead me to 
Hel, now, or I shall be angry."

"Yes, Sire," Ganglot whispered.

Daniel picked up his glasses and put them on, while the girl cowered 
before him. Daniel felt terrible. It was sickening enough to know that 
the Goa'uld got off on treating people like this, but Daniel's disgust 
was heightened by the knowledge Shifu had granted him: That given the 
power, he would be capable of doing the same things; and enjoying them 
just as much. He sighed; when he met with Hel, the masquerade would end 
anyway.

Daniel reached out, and gently cupped Ganglot's fragile cheek with his 
palm. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I won't hurt you. I'm sorry for 
snapping at you."

Ganglot looked confused, but somewhat comforted. "I will take you to my 
mistress," she said.

Daniel hoped to be able to alert SG-6 on his way, but Ganglot led him 
through a passageway at the back of his chambers, and he felt that he was 
already pushing his luck too much to protest. If he looked as though he 
needed his escort's permission to leave his rooms, he would give the game 
away too soon, and he had to reach Hel if he was to get her part of the 
stone.

"How many people live here?" Daniel asked Ganglot, as she led him through 
a knot of passages.

"Very few," Ganglot replied. "My mistress can answer all of your 
questions," she added, quickly.

After about five minutes, they reached a curtained doorway, and Ganglot 
motioned for Daniel to go through. He brushed aside the heavy fabric, and 
stepped into a chamber not unlike the one he had recently left, although 
larger. As he entered, a young woman rose from her seat at a low table, 
and approached him. She had dark hair and fair skin, and a simple linen 
robe covered her form. The arrogant air of command that she wore about 
her left Daniel in no doubt that she was the ruler of Eljudnir; Hel.

"Leave us, Ganglot," she commanded, her voice gentle, but weighted with 
authority. It surprised him not to hear the sonorous command tones of a 
Goa'uld, but of course Hel was Harcesis.

"Yes, Mistress," the servant whispered, clearly terrified. Behind him, 
Daniel heard the curtain fall.

"Greetings," the woman said, in halting English. "I am Hel."

"Greetings to you. I'm Daniel Jackson. Your English is...impressive."

"I try to keep up with the world," Hel replied.

"You monitor our broadcasts," Daniel realised. "And you speak pretty 
modern English. This is Venus, isn't it?"

"Congratulations," Hel replied. "You are not Goa'uld," she noted. "Nor 
are you envoys of my father. Whom do you serve?"

"I am a representative of the Tau'ri," Daniel replied, warily, keeping 
his distance from the woman. She did not look dangerous, but after five 
years with the Stargate programme, Daniel knew that such appearances not 
merely could be, but almost invariably were deceptive.

"Then the Tau'ri have grown much since I left them," she said. "To know 
of distant planets. But how came you here, Daniel Jackson of the Tau'ri?"

"We found your Stargate in the tomb," he told her.

Hel nodded. "And *why* come you here?"

"We seek the runestone that was given to you by your father," Daniel told 
her. "Give it to us and we shall leave in peace," he added, certain that 
he was not being terribly convincing with the threat.

Hel however looked terrified. "Then my father has escaped," she gasped. 
"I have feared this for so long."

"Feared it?"

"Of course," she said. "My father did terrible things, and as his blood, 
the Asgard blame me for them. I have lived in peace and hiding for many 
centuries, but if he walks free again, they will surely come for me now."

"So you are innocent of wrongdoing?" Daniel asked.

"Oh, yes," she proclaimed. "Save what little things I did in my youth, 
when I was too young but to be ruled by my father."

"Little things like massacring the population of Niflheim?" Daniel asked, 
drawing on the little information Thor had been able to give him in the 
time they had to talk. "Of using their children and their flesh in your 
experiments?"

"Youthful exuberance?" Hel offered, with a coquettish laugh.

"You're Harcesis," Daniel said. "Born with the memories of the Goa'uld, 
and their thirst for conquest. You were never an innocent. Moreover, I 
know how the tomb works; I know you built it with the intention of 
letting your father find you when he was freed. Now tell me where the 
stone is."

Hel smiled, suggestively. "Passion, and strength," she said. "I like it."

"If this is the part where you offer me power, wealth and sex, then we 
can skip it," Daniel told her. "I don't have the time."

"Help me to defeat my father," Hel suggested. "Whatever he has that you 
want, I will give to you."

"Give me the stone," Daniel repeated, his face set hard. Inside he was in 
turmoil, wondering if this was really the best way to defeat Loki and 
save Angharad. He knew though that it was the only way: Maybe Hel could 
help him, but she could never be trusted.

"This stone?" She asked, drawing a stone out from her bodice on a leather 
cord. "But it suits my complexion so well. I think I will keep it."

Daniel drew his pistol, cocked it, and held the barrel pointed at Hel's 
head. "I don't think so," he said, softly.

Hel smiled. "Oh. I do."

And then she moved.

                         *******************

Amy woke about half an hour after turning in. Her dreams were troubled, 
so she got up to stretch her legs, and think a little, ignoring 
Ferretti's pointed looks. He could have ordered her to turn in, but he 
did not, contenting himself with an injunction to be careful.

Taking her weapon, Amy went out into the deserted hallway. She paced up 
and down for a while, wondering what they would do when they came face-
to-face with Hel. From what she had heard, the only other Harcesis the 
SGC had encountered had been a being of awesome power, although that 
might have been more related to his fostering by the alien Oma Desala 
than his heritage. Amy hoped that Hel would be no more trouble than a 
Goa'uld, although that was trouble enough in and of itself for Amy's 
comfort.

She wracked hr brains, wishing she knew more of Norse mythology from 
which to form a hypothetical image of the woman, but it was really not 
her area. After much soul-searching, she decided that she needed to talk 
to Daniel, however hard it might be right now.

She rapped gently on Daniel's door; then a little harder. "Daniel!" She 
called out, and still there was no response. Amy pushed open the door and 
looked in.

"Everything alright, Kawalsky?" Ferretti called.

"He's not there," Amy replied.

"So what's happened to him?" Ferretti asked.

                         *******************

Daniel was amazed by Hel's strength, but no more so than by her speed. 
She had knocked the gun from his hand before he could blink, and then 
proceeded to hurl him around the room like a rag doll.

"I want you to remember that this was your choice," she told him, holding 
him pinned by the throat against the wall. "You didn't want the wealth, 
power and sex."

"If the alternative is listening to you talk," he gasped, choking. "Then 
I'd rather you just hit me some more."

Hel smiled, turned, and hurled Daniel to the wall above her bed. He fell 
hard onto the mattress, and Hel was on him, pinning him down with 
clinical efficiency.

"Actually," she said. "I want to hear you talk. Tell me about the 
children."

"Never."

Hel punched him in the ribs. "Come now; where's the harm? I know already 
that they are hak'tar; I have known since they passed through my Gate. 
Did you think I would take no precautions against intruders beyond the 
screening mechanisms at the tomb?

"I know that the girl bears the results of Goa'uld engineering," she 
continued. "Failed engineering, but then she is a work in progress. The 
boy is more interesting."

"The boy?"

"He was worked on by the Asgard, was he not? It's quite fascinating what 
they have done to him."

"Asgard?"

"You didn't know," Hel realised. "Well, perhaps you are not the Asgard 
allies that I took you for. Perhaps they sent the boy to spy on you."

"No!" Daniel replied, angrily.

"Plainly you care for them both. Tell me about them."

"I said never," Daniel repeated.

"No harm shall come to them," Hel assured him. "You and your other 
friends shall be flayed alive for my father's amusement; unless by chance 
the woman catches his eye for a plaything." Daniel thrashed helplessly in 
the Harcesis' grip, and she laughed. "But the children are too valuable. 
They shall remain here. I believe that when they are bred together, their 
spawn shall possess great power. The Asgard's gifts will not let that 
wonderful virus kill those children, you see, and a host possessed of 
whatever power it grants shall be a gift indeed for my father."

"You'll never *see* your father," Daniel croaked, fighting for breath. 
"The Asgard know about the tomb; you'll never get out that way, and Loki 
will never find his way in to you."

Hel laughed again. "I assure you, Daniel. That will not be a problem."

The Harcesis shifted her weight on top of Daniel, then bent down, and 
sank her teeth into the side of his neck. Daniel cried out in pain, 
feeling a row of needlelike points drive into his flesh, and a terrible, 
burning sensation spread rapidly from the wound.

He screamed, and kept screaming until he blacked out.

                         *******************

"Cassandra; Llew!" Amy called out as she pushed open the door.

Cassandra leaped to her feet, stumbling away from the bed. "Nothing 
happened!" She protested, sleepily.

Amy stood in the doorway, taking in the guilty looks from both teenagers. 
"You're both fully dressed," she told them. "It may be a while since I 
last got any, but I more or less remember the routine, so relax." They 
did so, if a little warily. "Oh, and now panic again; Daniel's missing."

Amy, Cassandra and Llew emerged into the corridor, where a brief 
conference was taking place.

"We're cut off as it is," Pearson was saying. "We can't lose the route 
back to the Stargate."

"Agreed," Ferretti replied. "We'll secure the Gateroom and work forward."

"What about Daniel?" Cassie asked.

"That's why we're working forward," Ferretti explained. "We'll stick 
together, go room by room if we have to until we find either Daniel or 
someone who can take us to him. Fenner, I want you on point; Pearson 
bring up the rear. Cassie, you and Lou..." He turned to face the two 
teenagers. "Where'd they go?" He asked.

"Ah, crap," Amy muttered. "They must've gone to look for Daniel. I should 
go after them, Colonel. I promised I'd keep an eye on them."

"Okay, Kawalsky," her CO agreed. "But be very careful. We'll meet up with 
you as we work forward."

"Yes, Sir," Amy replied, and without further hesitation she ran off in 
the only direction Amy and Cassandra could have taken.

                         *******************

Daniel was having some difficulty remembering where he was. All he was 
really aware of was the fact that he was in immense pain.

Slowly, however, the pain seemed to recede a little, and he began to 
recognise the presence of pale, humanoid figure, looming above him. He 
tried to lash out, but his limbs were sluggish, and when the figure 
pushed his arm away, the pain flared up again.

"Lie still," a voice instructed. "You are in grave danger, and I must 
tend you quickly."

"Ganglot?" Daniel asked

"Yes Lord," the girl replied. He could feel her hands moving across him, 
and his skin was peculiarly raw and tender.

"What's wrong with me?" He asked.

"She has..." Ganglot began, then paused. "Lie still," she said again. "I 
will tell you all when you are out of danger."

                         *******************

"I think we're lost," Llew confided.

"I agree," Cassandra replied. "I'm beginning to think that this was a 
very bad idea."

"The two of us rushing off unarmed to look for Daniel instead of waiting 
for the soldiers? How could that be a bad idea."

Cassandra gave Llew a smile that she hoped was encouraging, and he 
squeezed her hand tightly. He was trying to put on a brave face for her - 
and she was doing the same for him - but Cassie could tell that Llew was 
just as frightened as she was.

"I meant coming here in the first place," she told him. "I shouldn't have 
dragged you into this."

"You didn't," he assured her. "Loki did that when he kidnapped my Mam. I 
*had* to come here; and it means a lot to me that you came along, Cassie. 
If anything, I should be apologising to you."

Cassandra waved off his apology. "I wanted to come," she said. "I wanted 
to be a part of the team; not just...not just a freak with naquadah in my 
bloodstream and the funny virus."

"It still means a lot that you're here," Llew said. "I mean, I kind of 
wish you weren't, since...y'know; we're all gonna *die* here." He turned 
to face her, and smiled. "And I don't think you're a freak."

"I bet you say that to all the girls," Cassie replied, blushing, but not 
looking away from him.

"Most of them don't give me a chance," Llew told her. "You're not the 
only one who got beat with the freaky stick."

"You're not freaky," Cassie said.

"No; I'm just a crazy psychic with weird eyes who prays to the Thunder 
God."

"Well; freak or not, I like you just fine, Llew."

Cassandra and Llew moved closer together, almost forgetting for a moment 
that they were in a Goa'uld complex and imminent danger of death. Then 
the sound of pounding feet snapped them back to the present, and they 
broke awkwardly apart, as Amy Kawalsky came jogging around the corner.

"Damn, you two move fast," she told them, shaking her head in wonder.

"You're just old," Cassie retorted, distractedly.

"Ouch," Amy said, affably. "But personal abuse aside, you two shouldn't 
be here on your own. Let's get back to the squad before something bad 
happens to you."

"Yes. Let's do that."

The three of them turned as one, as a figure stepped out of the shadows.

"Daniel?" Amy asked, uncertainly. He looked terrible; his was skin 
bruised and blotchy, and he walked with a limp. "What happened to you?"

"Hel," Daniel replied. "She's more dangerous than we realised. We have to 
go now."

Amy nodded. "Did you get the runestone?"

"What? No," Daniel replied. "It doesn't matter. If we leave now, and 
barricade Chappa'ai in the tomb, then Hel can't leave this place, and the 
atmosphere that keeps her hidden from the Asgard will keep her father 
from ever finding her." There was a cruel twist to Daniel's lips as he 
anticipated this imprisonment.

Amy looked at Daniel, concerned. "But we came for the stone," she said.

"Forget the stone!" He snapped. "Maybe she never had part of it anyway. 
It doesn't matter so long as we go back to Earth, *now*!"

"You feel...strange," Llew said, with a concerned frown.

Cassie gasped in horror. "God, Daniel. What did she do to you?"

"Shut up!" Daniel barked, loud enough to make the teenagers cringe. "This 
is what an influence like yours does," he accused Amy. "Always speaking 
out of turn; no wonder this child does not know when to keep her foolish 
mouth shut."

Cassie gasped, the hurt writ large across her face.

"Daniel..." Amy began, angrily.

"No! Enough. You want to look for the stone, we'll look for the stone. 
You two," he added, turning to Llew and Cassie. "Go back and wait at the 
Chappa'ai. Now!" He snapped, as Cassie began to protest.

"Yes, Daniel," Cassandra replied, in a small voice. Clutching at Llew's 
hand for comfort, she backed away down the corridor, and saw Daniel turn 
and stalk away, with Amy close on his heels.

                         *******************

Cassandra more or less kept it together until Daniel and Amy were out of 
sight, but as soon as they were gone, she fell against Llew and burst 
into tears. Somewhat awkwardly, the boy put his arms around her.

"How...how could he say something like that?" Cassie asked.

"I don't know," Llew replied, shell-shocked. "I mean, I only dimly 
remember what he was like when I was very small, but...He never shouted 
at me; or at Mam. Or at *anyone*," he added. "I only remember him even 
being angry once."

"He said I was a fool," Cassie said, disbelieving. "I...I mean, I know 
he's upset about your Mom, but..." She broke off, sniffling.

"I know," Llew said, comfortingly, stroking Cassandra's dark purple hair. 
"I don't know what's got into him."

"I'd say a Goa'uld," Cassandra said. "Except that I couldn't sense a 
symbiote in him."

"Nor I," Llew agreed.

"But he was acting so like one," Cassie went on. "Arrogant, cruel...and 
mean. Mean and spiteful, just for the sake of it. I..." She tailed off.

"What?" Llew asked.

"Hel. Hel is Harcesis; there's no symbiote in her. There'd be naquadah, 
but not concentrated in the same way; I might not pick it up with the 
interference from these walls." She nodded, then stopped. "But if she's 
not a Goa'uld, then she couldn't jump to Daniel's body."

"Maybe she could?" Llew suggested. "She's supposed to be a brilliant 
technologist. And even if she could not switch bodies, she might be a 
shifter."

"Shifter?"

"A shape-shifter. Loki was, and didn't Lord Thor say that Hel was a 
mistress of deception?"

Cassie's face, already pale, blanched. "But what did she do to the real 
Daniel?"

"And what is she going to do to Miss...Captain Kawalsky?"

"Oh God," Cassie gasped.

They turned, and began to run.

                         *******************

The 'Kalliste' rocked violently, as another blast from the 'Biliskner' 
struck her shields.

"Eris," Loki said, angrily. "As we have no desire to return to that 
blasted cavern., we would be most appreciative if you would please *lose 
those bastard Asgard*!"

"I am trying, Sire," Eris returned, offended.

"We are sure that we remember you being better than this," Loki taunted. 
"How could you possibly have evaded the Asgard for so many centuries, yet 
within days of our escape, they find us. We might almost suspect 
betrayal."

"They were not searching for me!" Eris answered, fearful. "I would never 
betray you Sire; never."

"We are delighted. But do not fail us, either," Loki cautioned.

"I am trying every trick I know Sire, but their sensors have been refined 
since your day."

"Why does it grow so hot?" Loki asked.

"Because I'm flying through the corona of a sun to try and lose them," 
Eris answered.

Loki looked to a screen. "You do not appear to be succeeding," he noted. 
"Perhaps they know your tricks by now, sweet Eris?"

Eris pursed her lips, angrily. "Very well," she said, hotly. "Then I'll 
try something new."

With deft hands, she reshuffled the runestones on the 'Kalliste's' main 
console, and the ship shuddered as she responded to her mistress' 
demands.

"Eris..." Loki growled.

"Sire?" Eris asked, innocently, as the 'Kalliste' hove about, and ran 
straight into the teeth of the 'Biliskner's' guns.

A deafening crash sounded throughout the vessel, and Loki was shaken from 
his feet. Around him, Eris' Jaffa stumbled and fell, only his cohort 
keeping her feet, grinning madly. Moments later, in response to her 
command, the ship thrummed as she compensated for a sudden acceleration 
to trans-relativistic velocities. Eris laughed in delight, like a child.

"Perhaps," Loki said, rising with as much dignity as he could muster. 
"Our servant would deign to tell us what she finds so very amusing?"

"Something new," Eris told him. "I rammed the 'Biliskner' and crippled 
her main sensor array. We'll need to stop somewhere soon and repair, but 
I lost them."

Loki shook his head, giving a low, throaty chuckle. "You never cease to 
surprise, My Sweet," he said, stepping up behind her and clasping her 
about the waist.

"My Lord is too kind," she said, leaning back against his chest. "Shall 
we continue to the world of the Tau'ri?"

"Just to their system," Loki replied. "If you are certain that those who 
released us hailed from that world."

"I am certain," Eris assured him. I tracked the source of the beam which 
brought them to you; there is no mistake."

"We are well pleased with you, Eris," Loki said, drawing a shiver of 
pleasure from his underling. He released her, and pushed her away from 
him. "We see no need to punish you for your earlier interruption."

Eris shot him a sour look of disappointment.

"We will be with the prisoner," he told her. "Do not interrupt us for 
trivialities; believe that we can find punishments that even one such as 
yourself would not enjoy."

"Yes, Lord," Eris replied. "But what is so special about the woman?"

"Nothing at all," Loki replied. "But she has been touched."

"Touched?" Eris asked.

"Touched by Thor," Loki replied. "And as all that is his, we shall make 
her ours."

                         *******************

"Clear!" Lieutenant Fenner called back. Ferretti moved up, and Pearson 
followed. As the complex was fairly simple in structure they were moving 
quickly through the corridors, securing them as best they were able.

"Sir!" Fenner called, suddenly. "Hostile; up ahead."

Ferretti looked, and saw one of the bandaged servants moving towards 
them. She paid no attention to their levelled guns, simply continuing 
forward as though nothing were out of the ordinary.

"Hold it, Miss," Ferretti instructed, trying to put as much of his 
meaning into his tone as possible.

The servant stopped, turned and looked at him.

"Where is Daniel Jackson?" Ferretti asked.

The woman made no response.

Ferretti tried again. "Daniel. Jackson."

The woman gave no indication that even the name meant anything to her.

"The man with glasses," Ferretti tried, miming glasses, then in 
desperation: "Chicken man?"

"Chicken man?" Pearson asked.

"Long story," Ferretti sighed.

The woman, apparently deciding that Ferretti had finished with her, began 
to move on again.

"Hey!" Ferretti grabbed for the woman's shoulder. He anticipated evasion, 
and so when the servant instead came to a complete halt and began once 
more to turn towards him, his hand missed its mark, catching instead in 
the bandages around her face. As he snatched his hand back, the bandages 
pulled loose, and the three airmen were able to see underneath.

"Oh, good God," Pearson gasped.

"Mother of Mercy," Fenner agreed.

Underneath the bandages, the face of the servant was black. Not black as 
in a black person, but black, dried and sunken like the embalmed flesh of 
a mummy.

"Is there any way I can get this off my fingers quickly without betraying 
my cool exterior?" Ferretti asked, staring in undisguised horror at the 
black, sticky substance clinging to his skin. Then he wiped his hand 
vigorously against his jacket, until it at last began to feel clean.

"Very suave," Fenner assured his CO, a little half-heartedly. With no one 
drawing her attention, the long-dead servant went on about her business.

"What the hell goes on here, Colonel?" Pearson asked.

"I have absolutely no idea," Ferretti said, gathering his composure. "But 
I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to. Let's move." As they 
started off down the passage again, Ferretti unclipped his field radio. 
"Kawalsky, this is Ferretti. Come in, Kawalsky." The little radio just 
hissed static at him.

                         *******************

Daniel and Amy began their search at the first room they reached. It 
looked to be the hydroponic farm where the food was grown, or rather one 
of many. The misshapen harvest from this small collection of tanks would 
likely not feed much more than two or three people.

There were no runestones, and the two did not speak as they searched.

"Nothing," Daniel said at last. "If you're satisfied, shall we move on?"

"Sure," Amy agreed. "You know, you've got no right to talk to me the way 
you did." Daniel made no response, so she continued. "I realise that 
being your sexy stalker entails weathering a certain amount of 
aggravation on your off days, but you were well out of line."

"Was I?" Daniel said, impatiently. "Please, enlighten me."

"Damnit, Daniel," she said. "That's exactly what I mean. I know you're 
worried about Angharad; we all are. But that doesn't give you the right 
to treat people like this."

"Is that all?" Daniel asked. "Because I thought you wanted to search this 
place."

"No, damnit! That's not all. I'm pretty pissed at the way you treated me 
back there, but snapping Cassie's head off like that was just plain 
wrong. I know you didn't want her here, and I know she can be a pain 
sometimes, but she idolise you. All four of you."

"Four?"

"SG-1," Amy explained, her temper fraying badly. "She looks up to you 
guys, and you really hurt her."

"I tell you what," Daniel said, pleasantly. "Why don't you, mind your own 
damn business, and just *do your job*, instead of questioning me all the 
time."

"Well why don't you stop acting like an ass!" Amy challenged, hotly.

Daniel rounded on Amy so suddenly that she took a step away in shock. 
"Isn't it enough that I agreed to this pointless search?" He demanded. 
"But you feel the need to task me for disciplining my servant's wench?"

"Servant's..." Amy's eyes widened in horror.

"The *children* would have been in the way, so I sent them back. Why 
aren't you happy?" He demanded, cruelly. "Isn't this what you wanted? To 
be alone with me?"

"Daniel...?" Amy asked, her voice quivering.

With sudden violence, he seized her by the shoulders and thrust her 
against the wall. "Or is *this* what you *really* want?" He hissed.

"Damnit, Daniel! Get off me!" She pushed him away as hard as she could, 
but he bore down on her with terrible strength. "Get *off me*!" She 
screamed, and thrust him away from her, heart racing in panic. "God damn 
you, Daniel..."

Daniel interrupted Amy's curse with a backhanded blow which knocked her 
reeling to the floor. She lay where she fell, stunned, trying to force 
her mind into motion. She knew that this was wrong. Daniel was not this 
cruel, and even if he was, he was not this strong. She knew what was 
wrong, she knew that she did; but she just could not make her mind 
divulge the information.

Daniel stalked towards her. Amy lashed out reflexively with her booted 
foot, and gave a cry of pain as the kick struck home. It was more like 
kicking stone than flesh.

"If you were a more obedient slave," Daniel told her, coldly. "This would 
hardly have been necessary." He leaned down, snatching at her wrists.

Amy struggled, striking at his body, and meeting the same painful 
resistance as had met her kick. He got hold of her wrists, and dragged 
her up, then flung her hard against the wall. She gave a choking cry as 
the wind was blasted out of her. Her hands grappled for her weapon, but 
her strength was ebbing, and Daniel easily wrested it from her grip.

Daniel pressed hard against her. In desperation, Amy clawed at his face, 
and to her horror, she felt his skin tear under her fingers, pulling away 
in hideous gashes. Daniel thrust her away from him, screaming 
obscenities. Amy cast a glance at the flesh caught under her nails, and 
gagged, fighting the urge to vomit.

"You will suffer for that!" Daniel snarled, slamming Amy back against the 
wall once more. He pinned her, an arm like an iron beam pressed hard 
across her shoulders, and looked her in the eyes. Then he grinned at her, 
a hideous rictus that bared all of his teeth.

"What's got into you, Daniel?" Amy demanded, defiant to the last, 
although her strength had failed her.

In response, Daniel just grinned wider, and to Amy's horror, a row of 
jagged metal probes dropped into view behind his upper teeth. Then, he 
lowered his mouth towards her skin. Amy twisted as far as she could, but 
try as she might, she could not escape that hideous bite.

Suddenly, with a berserker warcry, Cassandra leaped out of nowhere, 
grabbing Daniel around the shoulders with one arm, and tugging madly at 
his hair. "Get the hell off her!" Cassie screamed.

Daniel spasmed wildly as the girl landed on his back, and cried out in 
pain. As she yelled and grappled however, he shot a vicious little punch 
over his shoulder. With a cry, Cassandra fell away, and a sweep of 
Daniel's arm sent her flying, the wall stopping her motion with a 
sickening crunch.

"No!" Llew ran at Daniel in a blind rage. With brutal calm, Daniel drew 
the sheath knife from Amy's belt, and met the boy's charge with a quick, 
brutal thrust. Llew stopped short, a sharp, wheezing breath driving out 
of his lungs at the force of the blow. Then Daniel shoved him away, and 
he staggered back, clutching the knife hilt, and fell to the floor, a 
pool of his own blood spreading around him.

"Oh God," Amy whimpered, as the unbearable truth that Daniel was gone 
settled over her. Momentarily released, she slid bonelessly down the 
wall, and Daniel - the *thing* that had been Daniel - leaned over her.

"Get away from her." Daniel-thing turned at the voice; a voice so 
familiar to Amy, yet she could not place it.

"No!" Daniel gasped, denying the presence of the figure behind him, 
before a heavy beam caught him in the face, and sent him staggering 
backwards. Amy looked up, and was startled to see one of the bandaged 
servants move to stand protectively over her, makeshift club clutched in 
his hands.

With a bellow of rage, the servant followed up his first blow with a 
second, third and fourth; driving Daniel to the ground.

Daniel slumped, and the servant turned to Amy. "Can you walk?" He asked.

Amy nodded, dumbly, and with the servant's help, she pulled herself to 
her feet. He leaned her against a wall to get her bearings, and as he did 
so, she saw a movement over his shoulder.

"Look out!" She cried, as Daniel surged to his feet with a bellow of 
rage. His face was a ruin, and what was left was twisted in an expression 
of hatred so vile, so *un-Daniel*, that something in Amy snapped at the 
sight of it. Quicker than she could think about it, Amy shoved the 
servant aside, drew her sidearm, and emptied it into the monster that had 
dared to impersonate Daniel.

Only when the shots had faded, and the gun smoke cleared, did Amy realise 
that she was crying.

                         *******************

Not far away, Ferretti's head snapped up at the familiar sound of 
gunshots.

"Sir..." Fenner began.

"I hear it," Ferretti confirmed. "Let's move."

                         *******************

The pistol dropped from Amy's hand, and she leaned heavily against the 
wall. "Oh God," she whispered again. "Daniel."

"Amy?" She turned to face the servant, without really seeing him. "Amy; 
are you alright."

"I...I killed him."

The bandaged man laid his hands gently on Amy's shoulders. "It's okay, 
Amy," he said, softly.

"I killed Daniel," she repeated. Then she reached down, confirming to 
herself that the zat'nik'tel still hung opposite the holster for her 
sidearm. "I didn't...I could have."

"Amy!" Cassie called, her voice groggy, and choked with fear. "I think 
Llew's dying."

Rousing herself somewhat, Amy pushed away from the wall and stood, 
shakily, on her own two feet. "Thank you," she told the servant, then 
moved to kneel by Cassandra.

Llew's face was deathly pale, and he shivered, feverish from shock. "You 
know; I don't feel that bad," he told them.

"That's a bad sign, right?" Cassie asked.

Amy just nodded. "We need to get him back home," she said, examining the 
wound in the boy's gut, and immediately realising that it was somewhat 
beyond her first aid training to mend. "Keep pressure on it," she told 
Llew. "And Cassie; keep talking to him. Keep him focused and conscious. 
Okay, Cassandra?"

Cassie looked up, distractedly, from the wound. She looked almost as pale 
as Llew, and Amy hoped that was from mere psychological shock, rather 
than internal bleeding.

"Help me carry him back to the Stargate," she told the servant. "And do 
you have any idea how..." She broke off as, looking back, she saw Hel's 
pallid handmaiden skulking in the shadows. "You!" She hissed.

"Wait!" The servant said, interposing himself between Amy and Ganglot, 
and laying his hands on Amy's shoulders again. Amy looked up, and saw the 
man's eyes peeping through a slit in the wrappings - so familiar, like 
the voice, like the way he moved - and she froze.

"Kawalsky?" Ferretti stepped around the corner, weapon at the ready, and 
took in the scene before him. The muzzle of his P90 swung without 
hesitation to cover the bandaged servant. "Get your damn, dead hands off 
her," he snarled. Pearson and Fenner stepped out behind him, pointing 
their weapons at Ganglot as she tried to retreat along the corridor.

"No, wait," Amy said, her mind putting on another valiant surge of effort 
to catch up with events.

"Kawalsky; what happened?" Ferretti asked. "What happened to Dr Jackson? 
And I said get your hands off her!"

The servant began to lower his hands and step away, but Amy reached up 
and caught his wrists. "Colonel," she said. "*This* is Daniel."

"What?" Ferretti demanded.

"It...It's a long story," the bandaged Daniel replied. "And right 
now...could you lower your weapons, please?" He asked.

Ferretti, baffled, motioned for his men to do just that.

"Thank you. Right now we need to help Llew, and get the hell out of 
here."

"I'll buy that," Ferretti accepted. "But who's...?" He pointed to the 
body on the floor.

"I'll explain..." Daniel broke off. "Ganglot," he said. The servant made 
no response, staring fixedly at the body. "Ganglot!"

The woman's head snapped up. "Yes, Lord?"

"Don't, call me that," Daniel told her. "And please, could you help Llew. 
My friend," he explained, pointing to the youth. "If you have any more of 
these bandages," he suggested.

"Yes," she said, as though only just aware of what had happened. She 
moved across to Cassandra and Llew.

"Daniel?" Cassie asked, warily.

"It's okay," he promised. "Let her help."

Ganglot stooped beside Llew. She cut the shirt away from his body, then 
gripped the hilt of the knife, and tugged it from his gut in one, clean 
motion. Blood spurted, and she drew out a sheet of gauze which she 
pressed over the wound. The gauze stained crimson, but the bleeding 
seemed to slow; or maybe Llew was just running out of blood. By gestures, 
Ganglot indicated that Cassandra should help her to lift Llew into a 
sitting position, and she began to wrap a length of bandage around his 
abdomen.

Meanwhile, Daniel bent over his own body, and began searching through its 
clothes.

"Who *is* that?" Amy asked.

"Hel," Daniel replied, reclaiming his watch and wallet. "Could you hang 
on to these?" He asked. "I don't have pockets in my mummy-bindings."

"Uh...sure," Amy agreed.

"I'm not quite sure how," Daniel went on. "But she stole my skin."

"Stole your skin!" Amy exclaimed, horrified.

"I'm not clear on the details, but these bandages are supposed to keep me 
alive and help me grow a new one."

"So that's your skin on top of...what?"

With evident distaste, Daniel reached up, and dug his fingers into his 
own face. He pulled, and it slid away, revealing a necrotic visage, skin 
withered, and blotched black and blue.

"We took the bandages off one of the servants," Ferretti said. "She 
looked like that underneath."

Daniel nodded. "Mummies," he said. "Embalmed corpses, preserved against 
the ages. Everyone here."

"Done!" Ganglot called.

"Everyone except for Ganglot," Daniel added. He took a couple of other 
personal effects from Hel's corpse - including his GDO and, Amy was 
touched to note, a space pen she had given him for his last birthday - 
then lifted a cord from around her neck.

"Is that...?" Amy asked.

"The runestone," Daniel confirmed, passing it to Amy. He started to rise, 
then seemed to think again, and looked back at Hel. "Hello," he said, 
catching a glint of gold at her wrist. He pushed up the sleeve of his 
stolen fatigues, to reveal a device of some kind, held in an ornate 
bracer. He released a catch, and took the device from Hel.

"Is that safe?" Amy asked.

"Trust me," Daniel said, and of course, Amy did. "Alright, Ferretti. I 
think it's time we left."

"You know how to open the Gate?" Ferretti asked.

"I think so," Daniel admitted.

Ferretti grinned, wryly. "Good enough for me. Fenner, Pearson; get the 
kid."

                         *******************

The small group moved cautiously along the corridors, but found all of 
the servants standing in lifeless pose. It was as though - without their 
mistress - they had simply lost all animation.

"Hel used all kinds of means to increase her power, and preserve her life 
without dependence on the sarcophagus," Daniel said, continuing to 
explain matters to Amy as they beat the retreat to the mini-Gate. She was 
hobbling badly, and Daniel was supporting her as they went, his own pain 
numbed by the bandages. "Mostly nano-technology. She had some great 
successes, but eventually, one of her experiments failed in a big way. A 
batch of disease-combating nanocytes took against her own cells, and 
killed them."

"She seemed pretty...spry," Amy replied, her voice haunted.

"Basically," Daniel said. "The nanocytes in her body kept her going, even 
after they stopped her biological functions. The sarcophagus wouldn't 
work on her, and she had no way to remove these nanocytes, so she used an 
ancient embalming procedure to keep her flesh form decaying, but she 
wasn't pretty anymore. Consequently, she devised a means of stealing the 
flesh of another, and making it into a kind of disguise. When she was 
forced into hiding up here, she kept using her servants as donors, until 
accidents and suicide had killed most of them off. She preserved and 
reanimated them, in much the same way that her own body was preserved, 
but they weren't much good for supplying fresh meat anymore.

"Ganglot was the last one; her last living servant and her last donor. 
Periodically, Hel stole her skin, and wrapped her in these bandages. Her 
skin is like it is because it's only just finished regrowing. When Hel 
stripped me, Ganglot bound me in the same bandages and saved my life."

"I think Hel might have been trying to do the same thing to me," Amy 
admitted. "Steal my skin that is. So did Hel tell you to save Daniel's 
life?" She asked Ganglot, who was tailing after the group.

"She...didn't tell me not to," Ganglot replied, evasively.

Amy switched back to English. "You heartbreaker you," she said to Daniel.

"Actually, she says she did it because she realised how much she had come 
to despise Hel. I was her ticket out as much as anything."

"Speaking of tickets out," Ferretti said, as they entered the Gateroom. 
"Let's see if you're right about opening the Gate."

"So where do you think the controls are?" Cassandra asked.

"Right here," Daniel answered, holding up the wrist device. "Give me your 
wrist."

Cassandra looked dubious. "You're sure about this?" She asked.

"Don't worry," Daniel assured her. "It'll come off again."

"That's what they told you about the Atanik armbands," Cassie reminded 
him.

"Trust me," Daniel said.

Cassandra held out her arm, and Daniel rolled up her sleeve to clasp the 
device around her wrist. She gave a small flinch as it locked in place.

"So what do I do with it?" She asked.

"Point it at the Gate," Daniel said. "And push the button."

Cassandra did as she was told, and the Gate burst into life. As when they 
left, there was no vortex; the event horizon just seethed calmly into 
existence.

"Hallelujah," Ferretti breathed.

"And this'll take us home?" Cassie asked.

"I've seen the Goa'uld use devices like that before," Daniel said, not 
adding 'and I saw you use one to send us through a time warp from fifty 
years in the future'. "They seem to open a wormhole directly to a pre-
programmed set of co-ordinates. If these really are just 'intercom' 
Gates, then where else would they go?"

"And if they're not?" Amy asked.

"Well. It'll be fun finding out," Daniel replied. "Amy; you have my GDO, 
so if you could do the honours."

"GDO?" Ferretti asked, as Amy pushed back her jacket sleeve, and tapped 
SG-6's code into the panel.

"Yes," Daniel replied. "While the mini-Gate on Earth brought us to here, 
the return wormhole should home in on the primary Gate at Cheyenne 
Mountain."

"Transmission complete," Amy said.

"Move out," Ferretti ordered. "Let's get that kid through, now."

Ferretti led, with Pearson and Fenner following with Llew. Cassandra 
dogged their heels.

"After you," Amy said.

"No, no; ladies first," Daniel insisted.

"But you forget," Amy reminded him. "I'm no lady." Then she shot a glance 
at Ganglot, who was hanging back from the Gate as though she expected 
something to leap out and bite her. "Don't take too long exercising your 
saviour complex," she told him. "I'll hold the door for you, but I don't 
know how long this Gate can maintain a wormhole."

As Amy departed, Daniel turned to Ganglot. "Come on," he said, holding 
out his hand. "It's okay. You can come back with us; we'll look after 
you. It's what you wanted."

"I have never been away from my mistress before," Ganglot admitted.

"There is no mistress," Daniel reminded her.

After a long moment, Ganglot nodded. She reached out, took Daniel's hand, 
and they stepped through the Gate.

                         *******************

After the Gate closed, the compound was quiet. Hel's body lay where it 
had fallen, and her servants swayed silently where they stood.

Hel's eyes snapped open.

                         *******************

Dr Janet Fraiser ran down the corridor as fast as her legs would carry 
her. Mere minutes before leaving for Canada, she had been summoned to the 
Gateroom for a medical emergency. SG-6, she was told; the team that had 
been in Newfoundland with Daniel and Cassandra.

She burst into the massive chamber to see two members of SG-6 lowering a 
young man to the ramp, a dark-haired girl crouching by his side. Ferretti 
was giving a verbal report to General Hammond.

"What happened to him?" Janet asked, kneeling beside the boy.

"He was stabbed in the stomach," the girl replied. "Deep but clean."

"I feel fine, really," the boy said.

"And he's delirious," the girl added.

Janet looked at the girl, and did a small double-take. "Cassandra! 
What...?"

"Please, Mom.," Cassandra begged. "Llew's gut wound now; lecture later."

Janet gave her best Mom scowl, but turned her attention back to her 
patient. She cut away the bandages, to reveal a gauze which was covered 
in a sticky, black substance. "What the hell is this?" Janet asked.

"I don't know," Cassie replied. "Daniel said it was supposed to help. But 
it was white before, I'm sure of it."

"*Daniel*?" Janet pulled the gauze aside. "Daniel took you *offworld*? 
Oh, there is no limit to how dead that man..." She stopped, utterly lost 
for words.

"Mom?" Cassie asked, an edge of panic in her voice. "What's wrong? Is 
he...?"

"He's fine," Janet told her, with some confusion.

"Fine?"

"I told you I'd be okay," Llew said. "Few stitches; a little bedrest..."

"I mean, he's unhurt," Janet clarified.

"What?" Cassie asked.

"What?" Llew echoed.

"Look."

Cassandra looked, and saw that her mother was right. The black residue 
left a dark patch on Llew's fair skin, but the skin itself was unbroken. 
"What?" She said again. "How? What?"

Llew tried to stay composed, but his face was a picture of fear. "That's 
not possible," he said. "I felt..."

The moment of wonder was interrupted by a sharp clang, as Amy tumbled 
from the Gate, and collapsed onto the ramp. She broke her fall hard, and 
lay with one foot still within the event horizon. Ferretti bent to help 
her up, but she waved him away.

"Got to keep it open," she gasped, painfully.

"Are you alright, Captain?" Janet asked.

"Not great, no," Amy replied. "But I have to hold the Gate for Daniel. He 
can't open it again if it closes."

"Believe me," Janet said, making the best inspection she could of Amy's 
surface injuries. "He might prefer to stay there."

"Doc..." Amy began.

"Oh no," Janet interrupted. "No excuses. No mitigating circumstances. He 
took my daughter and another child on a mission."

"I am not a child!" Cassandra insisted, looking up from where she was 
crouched by Llew's side.

"Don't start with me young lady," Janet warned. "He took you on a 
mission, risked your lives, and what in God's name happened to your 
hair?"

"But..."

"No buts, my girl. Words can not describe how very grounded you are, 
and..."

Once more, the event horizon rippled, disgorging a pallid woman and a 
cloth-wrapped mummy. Amy pulled her foot over the threshold, and after a 
moment the Gate closed.

"What about Daniel?" Janet asked.

"Ahh..." The mummy raised a hand, with a sheepishness that Janet would 
have known anywhere.

"You felt you needed to come back in disguise?" Janet asked. "You might 
just be right."

"Actually, I got skinned alive," Daniel said.

Janet's fierce words of castigation froze in her throat, as medical 
instinct and concern for her friend took over. "Oh my God," she said. 
"Let's get you to the infirmary; you too Kawalsky."

"What about me?" Llew asked, barely holding it together. Cassandra 
squeezed his hand, tightly.

"Yes; you too," Janet agreed, gently. She was completely mystified by 
this 'wound' that had left no scar. If it were a mere flesh wound, she 
might think that he and Cassie had simply over-reacted, but there was 
nothing; yet that blood had to have come from somewhere.

                         *******************

Finding the humans fled and her wrist device and runestone gone, Hel 
stormed around the compound in fury. She screamed for Ganglot, itching to 
take out her frustration on the girl, but there was no reply.

"That treacherous little bitch," Hel fumed.

After she had calmed herself, Hel reviewed her situation. The Tau'ri knew 
of her presence and had control of her mini-Gate. She must therefore 
presume that if a strike team were not already en route, they soon would 
be. Either that or they would seal the Gates, preventing her escape. 
However, she was certain that the Tau'ri would not have come if her 
father had not been released from his captivity, which meant that Loki 
would be looking for his children, and the stones that he gave them.

From the Tau'ri planet - Midgard, as she still thought of it - Hel could 
have safely waited for her father to find her, but he would never track 
her here; that was the point after all. As she was now cut off from 
Midgard, she would have to take a risk.

At the centre of the complex was Hel's control room, from which she 
monitored events on Midgard and beyond, watching for signs of her 
father's return. Ignoring the huge array of imaging globes and Asgard 
screens, Hel walked straight from the door to a console which bore 
clearly the signs of disuse. It was pristine, where every other control 
in the chamber had been worn in by centuries of use, this had never been 
touched. When she installed it, and the systems to which it was 
connected, Hel had never intended them to be used. They existed solely as 
a contingency plan against just such an eventuality as the one facing her 
now.

She moved the control stones on the panel into a specific configuration, 
triggering the receivers which hung in high atmospheric orbit to begin 
transmitting a coded signal. Her father would instantly know that the 
signal was from her, and what it meant. The Asgard...well, the Asgard 
would not be slow to investigate, but her only chance now was that her 
father would reach her first.

                         *******************

Angharad lay on the floor of her cell, gazing up at Loki with untempered 
loathing. She made no attempt to rise: She was not sure if she even had 
the strength, and besides, he would just knock her down again.

"You hide your fear well," Loki commended her. "You will be an excellent 
servant once you learn your place."

"Never," Angharad repeated, or at least she tried to. The word emerged as 
a gurgling mumble from the ruin of her mouth, blood bubbling on her lips 
as she forced the breath between them. She hurt, everywhere; her body 
felt like a single, aching bruise. She had never in her life seen so much 
blood as she had spilled, and it seemed almost impossible that it really 
could all have come from her. Loki bore only a light and fading bruise on 
his jaw, and that from the hardest punch that Angharad could muster after 
nearly sixteen years of kickboxing lessons.

"What did he do?" Loki asked. "That sanctimonious hypocrite, Thor? What 
could he possibly have done to engender this kind of faith? You see that 
he could not catch us. Even if he cares, he can not save you, Angharad. 
What do you owe him?"

Angharad tried to speak again, but the words were inaudible.

"What was that?" Loki demanded, leaning down near to her face.

Angharad spat blood into the Trickster's eye. "I said go to Hell!" She 
cried, although the effort made her broken ribs sting and her raw throat 
burn.

Loki reared back in rage, delivering a sharp, vicious kick to Angharad's 
stomach. He drew little more than a grunt of discomfort, the shout having 
left Angharad too weary in her body to scream. Then Loki laughed, as 
though her action and his had both been part of a friendly joke. "You are 
an exceptional Tau'ri," he admitted. "Even if we do not see how Thor won 
your respect, we can see why he thought you worthy of notice."

"Flattered, I'm sure," Angharad gasped, and even that was painful.

"In time, you will answer us, Angharad. And you will worship us as your 
God."

"Never."

"It is only a matter of time; and that is something that I possess in 
abundance."

Angharad began to laugh. She could not stop herself, even though each 
convulsion hurt more than anything in her life. Not even labour had hurt 
like this.

"What?" Loki demanded.

"You may have time," she said. "But I don't. I'm dying; I can feel it."

Now it was Loki's turn to laugh. "Ah, Angharad," he said. "Our dominion 
does not end in death. We will draw you back from the edge, as many times 
as need be to make you bow before us."

Angharad's words of rejection failed, as the pain became too much for her 
to speak.

The door to the cell burst open. "Sire!" Eris cried.

"Eris, my sweet," Loki answered, in a voice that dripped venom. "We trust 
that you have remembered what we said to you?"

"Yes, Sire," Eris promised him. "But I thought that you would want to 
know. As we approached the home of the Tau'ri, we received a signal from 
your daughter; My Lady, Hel. She is on the second planet, and asks that 
we retrieve her before the Asgard can find her."

"Excellent," Loki whispered.

"There is more, Sire. We have also received a confirmation on the recall 
signal."

"The recall...? You mean...?"

"Yes, Sire. The 'Utgard' will join us in orbit around the second planet 
within the day."

"This is excellent news," Loki said. "We shall make ready to greet our 
daughter. Take the woman to the sarcophagus," he added. "Then prepare her 
for transport to the 'Utgard.'"

"Yes, Sire."

Eris stepped towards Angharad. She looked up through a growing darkness, 
dimly aware of Loki receding behind the girl.

"She is dying," Eris said, without the slightest note of concern.

"We care not," Loki replied. "Have her made ready, and join us to honour 
our daughter when she ar..." The voice faded away, as the world turned 
black and engulfed Angharad.

                         *******************

With the information from her coded signal, it was easy enough for Loki 
to isolate Hel's location, and transport his daughter to the 'Kalliste.'

"Father!" She greeted him, with every sign of warmth.

"Daughter. Welcome back. You remember our dear servant, Eris?"

"Of course," Hel replied, coolly. "A pleasure to see you again."

"Likewise," Eris returned, with equal insincerity. "You look..." She 
paused, unsure how best to describe the withered form before her. She 
remembered Hel being a beautiful, vibrant creature, never without a dozen 
lovers competing for her attention.

"Dead?" Hel suggested.

Eris raised a single, exquisite eyebrow. "Well, you look very well for 
it," she said.

"You shall transfer to the 'Utgard' with us, dear daughter," Loki 
continued, smiling benignly at the conflict between his underlings. "We 
have a plaything that you shall find most amusing; a woman of the Tau'ri, 
touched by Thor himself."

"Indeed? What does she look like?"

"Red hair, brown eyes. Strong."

Hell nodded. "Tau'ri came," she said. "To steal the stone that you gave 
to us. There was a boy with them, who had been altered by the Asgard. He 
had red hair."

Loki nodded, thoughtfully. "And were they successful?" He asked.

Hel smiled, and produced a runestone from her robes. "They were not," she 
assured her father. "However, there is a problem."

                         *******************

Wolf's Head
By The Prophet - prophet@phlegethon.org


RATING: PG-13

WARNINGS: Violence

CATEGORY: Action/adventure, Romance

PAIRING: Other pairing

SPOILERS: Spoilers for Nemesis

TIME FRAME: Season 5

SUMMARY: Jack and Teal'c head to the planet Jelling in the company of 
Norse expect Mary Lasuip. They are searching for Loki's son, the brutal 
Fenrir, but what they find is far from what they expected.  

DISCLAIMERS: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of 
Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret 
Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is written purely for my 
own entertainment, and that of anyone else who may happen to read it. No 
infringement of copyright is intended. It is not intended and should 
never be used for commercial purposes. 

The original characters, situations and ideas contained within this work 
are the property of the author 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the fourth part of an epic fan fiction, 
Æsirhættir, begun in Tears of a Clown, The World Serpent and Hel's Teeth, 
and concluded in Ragnarok. 

The Western settlement of the Greenland colony almost certainly died out 
of starvation with the onset of the little Ice Age. Given greater contact 
with the Inuit, they might have learned enough of their skills to survive 
- the Vikings were pretty good at that - but they didn't, so they all 
went home to the Eastern settlement or just died. 

A note on weapons: SG-5's weapons are the Heckler & Koch PSG1 anti-sniper 
rifle, a semi-automatic rifle, which is supposed to be really good, but 
which was picked mostly for having 'SG1' in its name; the M249 SAW (Squad 
Automatic Weapon), a light machine gun manufactured by Belgium's Fabrique 
Nationale, similar if not identical to the weapon used by Kawalsky when 
covering the Gate in Children of the Gods; and the M79 grenade launcher, 
the shotgun-style weapon used by Arnie in Terminator 2. As since Season 
4, the standard weapon of the SGC's offworld teams is the FN P90 PDW 
(Personal Defence Weapon). 

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Thanks as ever to my beta reader, Sho, whom I am now 
running out of original ways to thank. 

The Prophet, 22nd May 2002 


                         *******************

Wolf's Head 

Tuesday 

Sam and Teal'c started somewhat at their arrival on board the Asgard 
mothership. 

"Wow," Sam said. "You know, after Gate travel, I always forget how 
seamless that is." 

"I think it's a distance thing," Jack replied. "We sure as hell felt it 
when that tomb threw us halfway across the galaxy." 

"Well, further than that, Colonel," Sam reminded him. "Loki's prison was 
in the galaxy Ida. Aside from you and I, no-one in the SGC has travelled 
anything like that far, even by Gate." 

"In fact," Thor told them. "At the current configuration of galaxies, 
Loki's prison is considerably further from your Earth than Othala. We 
took great pains to put him in as isolated a location as possible. Sadly, 
with our technology, there are few places that are truly inaccessible." 

"Couldn't you find *one*?" Jack challenged. 

"We found one," Thor said. 

"And? Why didn't you put him there?" 

"Because it was inaccessible to our technology," Thor explained. 

"So," Jack asked the Asgard, changing the subject while wondering how he 
kept walking into these things. "Nice to see they gave you a new ship, 
even after you crashed the old one?" 

"They did," Thor replied. "However, this is not the 'Biliskner.' My 
vessel will be leading the hunt for the mothership which retrieved Loki 
after you disabled the security systems on his place of confinement. 
Therefore, Major Carter and myself will travel on this vessel to retrieve 
Jormungandr, once we have delivered you to the SGC." 

"Okay," Jack said. "So tell us about Fenrir. What...?" He stopped, 
distracted. "You okay there?" 

"Eep," Mary Lasuip managed. 

"I knew this was a bad idea," Jack muttered, but a moment later he was 
distracted from Mary's plight. 

"Hey, Jack!" A woman called out. 

Jack turned, and saw a stunning young blonde coming towards him, with the 
kind of smile on her face that stunning young blondes usually reserved 
for Daniel Jackson. "Hnoss?" He asked. 

The woman looked Jack over for a moment, then they caught each other in a 
friendly hug. 

"Welcome aboard the 'Stupid Idea,'" Hnoss said. 

"This thing is even bigger than the 'Sesrumnir,'" Sam noted, as Hnoss 
conducted the humans to the conference chamber of the 'Stupid Idea.' Thor 
had gone ahead to pay his respects to Freyja, Hnoss' Asgard foster-
mother. 

"She's a dedicated carrier," Hnoss explained. "And humans just need more 
space than Asgard. 'Sesrumnir' was adapted to house the recreation 
facilities to keep a large group of warriors entertained and motivated; 
this vessel was built with that in mind. Much of her design was based on 
studies of Earth engineering, to make a human crew feel more at home." 

"Hence the windowed walkway overlooking the ninja training rooms?" Jack 
asked, looking down to where a group of humans practised martial arts. In 
a firing range on the other side of the gallery, more humans trained with 
some form of energy weapon. "You know I love the Asgard; but they really 
need to learn the difference between documentaries and James Bond 
movies." 

Hnoss smiled. "They know the difference, Jack," she assured him. "But 
humans don't. Studies by the Asgard have shown that humans operate more 
favourably under conditions which conform to a certain aesthetic." 

"Meaning?" Jack asked. 

Sam grinned. "Meaning we don't care so much if it works; so long as its 
stylish." 

Hnoss grinned back. "Exactly." 

"Welcome aboard," an Asgard said, as they entered the conference room. 
Given what he had just learned of the 'Stupid Idea's' design principles, 
it came as little surprise to Teal'c that the room was dominated by a 
circular table and a giant viewing screen. Two Asgard sat at the head of 
the table; Teal'c recognised one of them as Thor - although he could not 
for certain have said *how* he recognised him. The other - the one who 
had spoken - he assumed to be Freyja, but having only met her once, he 
could not be certain. 

"It is good to see you again, Jack," Freyja - if she had met Colonel 
O'Neill before then she almost certainly was Freyja - continued. "And 
your companions." She turned her attention to Mary, who had much about 
her of the startled rabbit. "Welcome, my dear," she said. "Come; sit by 
my side. You are as safe here as anywhere in this galaxy. All of you; be 
seated, please, and let us begin. We have little time to spare." 

As they sat, Mary warily taking her place beside the Asgard, Freyja 
leaned over to whisper some words of encouragement to the young scholar. 
Teal'c was somewhat surprised, having never seen such concern for another 
creature's comfort from an Asgard before. Not that Thor was rude or 
unkind, but like all Asgard, he seemed ill-acquainted with emotion. As 
fear and discomfort did not bother the Asgard, so he did not understand 
how they bothered other life-forms. 

"So," Jack said. "Fenrir." 

Thor nodded, fractionally. "Fenrir was the younger of the Harcesis 
children whom Angrboda bore to Loki. As I told you earlier, we Asgard for 
a long time believed that he would put the lie to our fears about the 
atavism inherent in the Goa'uld's genetic memory."

Jack raised his hand. "Huh?" 

"We thought that he might not be evil," Freyja explained. 

"It's like a whole race of Carters," Jack said, despairingly. "And when 
you say 'we', don't you mean 'they'?" 

"No," Freyja answered. "Even I hoped that Fenrir might be different. He 
showed no signs of the characteristic Goa'uld aggression and 
callousness." 

"Unfortunately," Thor said. "We were deceived, and proven wrong in the 
most terrible way. Some three-hundred years after his father was 
imprisoned, Fenrir aided his sister in battle against a System Lord named 
Kepher; the last time we had any knowledge of her whereabouts. Hel staged 
an assault on her own home as a justification for a retributive attack on 
Kepher's palace, in which Fenrir led her troops." 

"Since when is making war on the Goa'uld a bad thing?" Jack asked. 

"Kepher's palace was razed to the ground," Thor went on. "He was slain, 
and his home burned to the ground with all of his Jaffa and his servants 
inside." Jack paled, his soldier's soul shocked by the thought of such 
wanton slaughter. "Afterwards, Fenrir travelled to a planet known as 
Keruch, and wiped out the population. Keruch's only settlement was a 
small colony, of two hundred and thirty-seven human inhabitants, but 
Fenrir killed them all." 

"Did the Asgard not note that he was raising an army?" Teal'c asked. 

"He had no army," Freyja replied. 

Jack, Sam and Teal'c made no response. Jack and Sam were horrified by the 
implication of this statement, and even the normally unflappable Teal'c 
was disturbed. 

"Did he take some of his sister's Jaffa to Keruch?" Jack asked Thor. 

"He went alone," the Asgard replied.

"Some kind of chemical weapon?" Sam suggested. 

Freyja shook her head. 

"Good God." 

After a moment, Thor continued with his account, giving little regard to 
the humans' discomfort. Teal'c noted, however, that Freyja was calming 
the frightened Mary. 

"An Asgard named Tyr found Fenrir," Thor said. "He tracked the Wolf for 
more than a millennia before he caught up with him. He had the good 
fortune to find the Wolf insensible with drink, and before he could 
recover, Tyr was able to bind him in a device called a Gleipnir; a collar 
designed to prevent travel through a wormhole. He was taken to Jelling, 
where no Goa'uld mothership could reach him, and the device was 
activated." 

"How does the Gleipnir prevent wormhole travel?" Sam asked. 

"The collar generates a subspace field," Thor explained. "Which is 
harmless to organic life, but is powerful enough to interfere with the 
formation of any subspace event." 

"So the event horizon won't form so long as he is anywhere near the 
Gate?" 

Thor nodded. "That is correct, Major Carter. It only has a range of about 
five metres, but the Gleipnir will also collapse an active wormhole, so 
that is plenty. Also, an Asgard transport beam would be unable to lock 
onto him,." 

"That's great," Jack said. "But tell me more about the man himself. Do we 
even expect to find him after all this time? I mean, you didn't give him 
a sarcophagus, did you?" 

"To the best of our knowledge, Fenrir has never used, and will never need 
to use a sarcophagus," Thor explained. "His body contains a form of 
nanocyte..." 

"I hate those things," Jack opined. 

"...designed to repair damage to his body. In order to combat the 
degenerative effects of old age, these nanocytes must periodically 
replace much of Fenrir's body tissue. To do this, he must enter a 
regenerative trance, lasting seven days, after first consuming a 
considerable quantity of nutrients, in particular proteins and fatty 
acids." 

"And these nanocytes," Jack hazarded. "They'd also make him tough to 
kill?" 

"That is correct," Thor agreed. "Fenrir is also physically powerful, and 
is - or at least was - a most charismatic individual." 

Jack nodded. "Big. Charming. Crazy. Got it. Anything else?" 

"It has been a long time since the Asgard had any contact with him," Thor 
admitted. "We know little of his current status." 

"What are our chances of successfully capturing this man, if he can 
destroy an entire settlement single-handed?" Teal'c asked. 

"He was sent through the Gate without advanced weapons," Freyja assured 
him. "And the inhabitants of Keruch had neither your weaponry nor your 
level of training." 

"Also," Thor added. "Remember that your objective is the stone. If you 
can locate Fenrir's lair and gain possession of the runestone without 
confrontation, so much the better." 

Jack nodded. "Okay then. Put us down, and let's get on with it." 

                         *******************

Jack and Teal'c marched side-by-side towards General Hammond's office 
with a determined stride. They were men with a mission, who would not 
falter in their purpose, nor be distracted by... 

"What happens in there?" Mary asked. 

"Nothing that concerns you," Jack said, for the fifteenth time. "If you 
even peek through the door we have to gouge your eyes out." 

"Sorry," Mary replied, contrite. "I'm just...blown away by it all." 

General Hammond was sitting at his desk as they entered. He was evidently 
trying to catch up on the paperwork he let slide yesterday, when Jack and 
Daniel were both missing. 

"Morning, General," Jack said, brightly. 

"Good Morning, Colonel O'Neill; good to see you back from your adventure 
in one piece. Teal'c," he added, acknowledging the Jaffa's presence with 
a nod. 

"Just want to thank you for giving us your blessing on all this," Jack 
added, sincerely. A lot of COs  would have insisted on a full report 
before letting SG-6 stay at the dig site with Daniel and Jack and Teal'c 
take a combat team to the far side of the Galaxy; let alone allow Sam go 
off on another merry jaunt with the Asgard. 

"If I've learned one thing in this posting, it's to trust my people," 
Hammond replied. "And speaking of my people, Colonel; I can't help 
noticing that your friend here is not one of them." 

"Hi," Mary said. "I'm Mary Lasuip, and..." 

Jack held up a cautioning hand as Hammond turned to him with a raised 
eyebrow. "She overheard us talking at the dig site," he explained. "She 
wants to help us look for her missing friend, and this was the only way 
to shut her up." Ignoring the young woman's scowl, he continued: "Can we 
lock her in the brig until we get back or something?" 

"What!" Mary exploded. "You can't do that!" 

Hammond frowned. "Colonel O'Neill," he said. "You're asking me to confine 
a foreign national, who you brought openly into my base, to the brig? And 
then what?" 

"Well..." 

"We can't keep her here indefinitely, and we can't keep her from talking 
once she leaves," Hammond continued, darkly. "I'm afraid you've left me 
with only one alternative, Colonel." 

"Eep," Mary squeaked, her eyes going wide with fear. 

"Miss Lasuip," Hammond said. "I'm assigning you to SG-1 as an 
archaeological consultant. You'll have to sign a non-disclosure agreement 
and a standard consultancy contract with the USAF, which means if you 
tell anyone about what you saw, we'll deny all knowledge, and then sue 
you for more money than you'll ever earn. You'll accompany Colonel 
O'Neill to Jelling in your new capacity." 

"What?" Jack asked. 

"You brought her here, Colonel. She's your problem, and I intend for her 
to stay that way."

Mary gulped. "You mean...you're not going to kill me?" 

Hammond smiled, kindly. "No, Miss Lasuip. I am not going to kill you. 
Although I'm once again reviewing that option for Colonel O'Neill." 

"He does that quite frequently," Teal'c confided. 

"Thank you, Sir," Mary said. 

Hammond nodded, then turned back to Jack. "I've assigned SG-5 to the 
mission as backup," he said. "Do you think you'll need more?" 

"From what we've heard of this Fenrir character," Jack said. "We 
might...Do we have tanks yet?" 

"Having a little trouble getting tanks to fit through the Stargate, 
Colonel." 

"How about those MIT nano-tech exosuits?" 

"Still in the theoretical phase, I'm afraid." 

"Then no, Sir," Jack said. "I don't think direct confrontation is the way 
forward, so I'd rather have small and sneaky than go in like Gangbusters. 
That's just one of the many reasons I'd rather Miss Lasuip stay here." 

"Hey! I'm small," Mary insisted. "And I can be sneaky." 

"With all due respect..." Jack began. 

"I've lived with my grandfather's people most of my life," Mary told him, 
hotly. "I have a dozen aunts, uncles and cousins devoted to keeping the 
traditional skills of the Mik'maqk alive. And I don't mean living in the 
past, not wearing any buttons; I mean teaching and learning the old ways 
so that they don't die out. I know woodcraft," she told Jack. "I can get 
within ten yards of a deer without it knowing; I can shoot a bow and a 
rifle, and I mean hunting, not target-shooting. I won't be a burden, 
Colonel." 

"It's your call, Sir," Jack told Hammond. 

"Yes it is," Hammond agreed. "Would you give us a moment, Colonel; 
Teal'c?" 

Jack and Teal'c stood outside the General's office, waiting. 

"You were very quiet in there," Jack commented. "I mean, quieter than 
usual." 

"I did not feel that I had anything to add to the discussion," Teal'c 
replied. "I am myself in two minds about allowing Mary Lasuip to 
accompany us." 

"How so?" 

"Like you, I am concerned by her lack of experience and training, but on 
the other hand I believe that her knowledge of the culture which Fenrir 
was a part of may be valuable, and that it would be wrong to ask her to 
stay behind when her friend is in danger." 

"Sometimes you can be a very practical man, Teal'c," Jack noted. "This is 
not one of those times." 

"I believe that some matters should not be governed by practicality," 
Teal'c replied. "Matters such as loyalty, love and honour lose all 
meaning if reduced to logistical considerations. If we allowed ourselves 
to do so, then we would be barely human." 

Jack was a little taken aback. "Well, sure," he agreed. "I just don't 
want her to get killed." 

The General's door opened, and Hammond emerged with Mary in tow. 

"Colonel O'Neill," Hammond said. "I'm having a UAV prepped to go through 
the Stargate on a standard recon flight. You'll brief SG-5 at thirteen-
hundred and - unless the UAV shows a reason not to - go through the Gate 
to PX8-666 at fourteen-thirty hours." 

"Sir," Jack acknowledged, making it half a question with a nod towards 
Mary. 

"Teal'c," Hammond said in answer. "Take Miss Lasuip to see the QM and get 
her kitted out. She goes through." 

                         *******************

"Chevron seven locked," Sergeant Davis announced. 

The Stargate whooshed open, and a moment later the UAV's booster rocket 
propelled it through the wormhole. 

"Holy God in Heaven!" Mary exclaimed. She was dressed in unmarked field 
fatigues, with an SGC patch on her sleeve, but she still looked 
monumentally out of place. Even Daniel blended into the Cheyenne Mountain 
complex; or was it just that Jack was used to Daniel? 

"UAV is away and operating normally," Davis reported. "We're receiving 
the feed, loud and clear, Sirs." Jack and Teal'c gathered around the 
monitor with General Hammond. 

"Colonel O'Neill," Teal'c said. "Did not Thor say that Fenrir was a 
bloodthirsty killer?" 

"He did," Jack agreed. "Your point being." 

"Whatever the other advantages of this planet, does it not seem strange 
to you that the Asgard would send such a being to a populated world?" 

Hammond frowned. "Populated...Well I'll be. Sergeant Davis; have the UAV 
sweep around to the south." 

SG-5 stood to attention as General Hammond entered with the others. 
Teal'c led Mary to a seat, and Jack stood beside the General as the 
marines were given permission to sit. 

As Hammond laid out the basics of the mission, O'Neill surveyed his 
backup. The newly promoted Major Steven Parker he knew somewhat from past 
missions with SG-3, but the rest were new to him. He knew that they all 
had Marine Recon pedigrees however, so whatever else they knew how to 
handle themselves in a fight, and more importantly how to avoid getting 
into one in the first place. Unlike the contact, exploration and 
generalist teams, the SGC's combat units contained few young, graduate 
officers, instead selecting veterans. Lieutenant Maybury Wayne, Master 
Sergeant Anne Fowler - to the best of Jack's knowledge, the first woman 
to serve in an offworld Marine Combat team - and Sergeant Thomas Thomas 
were no exception to the rule. 

"Colonel O'Neill will brief you on the details," Hammond concluded. 

"Thank you, Sir," Jack said, taking up the hand control for the briefing 
room projector. "What we know is that the hostile is on this planet, he 
is big, fast and dangerous, but not armed with any advanced weaponry. 
Take it from me however that an enemy with a bow is not to be dismissed 
just because you have a submachine-gun. A P90 won't stop an arrow - 
unless you are incredibly lucky - and nor will kevlar. This enemy also 
knows the terrain, while we do not." 

A chorus of groans met this assessment. 

"But it's not all bad news," Jack assured them. "There's only one of him, 
and it's a big forest, and we don't actually have to bring him down. 
Also, it's temperate, so we won't be slogging through jungle or anything. 

"What we are looking for, looks something like this," he added, bringing 
up an image of an Asgard runestone. "Our civilian consultant, Miss Mary 
Lasuip, will now take you through some of the pertinent features of the 
landscape." 

"Hmm?" Mary asked. 

"You're up," Jack told her. 

"Oh. Right. Thanks," Mary said, distractedly, scrambling to her feet. 
"Yes," she went on, fiddling with the controls until the UAV video began 
to play on the screen. "This is the planet Jelling, which is also the 
name of a Danish town which was capital of the kingdom under Harold 
Bluetooth, and gave its name to a Scandinavian artistic style represented 
by the inscriptions on a silver cup found in the grave of Harold's 
father, Gorm the Old..." 

"Mary!" Jack called, gently. "Focus." He could sense the restlessness of 
the Marines, and knew that - like Daniel - Mary was likely oblivious to 
them. The idea that anyone could *not* be interested in Gorm the Old had 
probably never occurred to her. 

"Right; sorry. So as you can see, primarily coniferous forests, with some 
scattered broadleaves. The tree cover is heavy near to the Stargate; no 
roads or driven tracks, although there are signs of a few regularly 
travelled game trails, especially..." She paused the playback. "These 
here," she indicated five vague lines radiating from the clearing which 
housed the Gate. 

Mary started the tape again. "Each of these lines leads in the direction 
of a village, the largest of which the plane-thing will fly over in a 
minute. Yes; there it is. This settlement is approximately ten miles from 
the Stargate. Note the defensive palisade, and the smaller fences around 
these outlying farm buildings. There are also these towers, which look 
like watch posts, commanding a clear view to the treeline. Plainly these 
are people with enemies: Either other villages or a seven-foot tall guy 
with an alien genetic memory and a chip on his shoulder. Also the stave 
church," she added, indicating an imposing building built of interlocking 
beams. "Suggesting a post-Christian culture, as Aesir-worshipping 
communities tended not to have purpose-built places of worship. Instead 
they'd use the village elder's barn or cattle shed, and clean up when 
they were..." 

There was a muttering from the table, and Mary looked up, distracted. 
"Was there a question?" She asked. 

"Just wondering if you were going to get to the point at any stage?" 
Thomas assured her, harshly. Mary looked hurt. 

"Congratulations, Thomas," Jack said, angrily. "You've just won yourself 
bodyguard duty. You'll be looking out for Miss Lasuip for the duration of 
the mission." 

"Ah, man." 

"No arguments. Now get geared up and prepped," Jack told SG-5. "We go in 
one hour." 

                         *******************

Jack's team emerged from the Gate into the crisp, cool air of the Jelling 
afternoon. The sun shone pleasantly, and the lush, green landscape made a 
change from stone ruins or baking desert. Jack might have been tempted to 
relax, if not for the fact that his team were bringing such a substantial 
arsenal into this placid realm. As a combat unit, SG-5 were considerably 
more tooled-up than SG-1 would have been. In addition to the P90s issued 
as standard to all SG teams, Fowler wore a PSG1 sniper rifle slung on her 
back, Wayne was toting an M249 SAW and Thomas had an M79 grenade 
launcher. Of the seven travellers, only Mary was unarmed, Jack not 
feeling comfortable issuing a weapon to a civilian, however capable. 

"Okay," Jack ordered. "Fan out and pick up the central trail." 

"Trail my ass," Thomas grumbled. "Just seeing things if you ask me." 

"Well," Jack replied. "If you think real hard, I think you'll find no-one 
did." He beckoned Mary away from the main group. "You sure about this?" 
He asked. "Last chance to go back."

Mary shook her head. "Don't worry, Colonel. I won't screw things up for 
you." 

"It's you I'm worried about," Jack  admitted. "No-one's going to think 
badly of you if you go. Well," he admitted. "Thomas will, but he's a jerk 
anyway."

"And *I* will," Mary said. "I'm staying." 

Jack nodded impressed, in spite of himself by her conviction. "Okay," he 
said. "Stick close to Thomas - unpleasant as that may be for you - and 
try not to get lost." 

Mary stuck her tongue out at him. 

"Colonel!" Fowler called out. 

"Look, Thomas!" Wayne added. "Your ass! No; my mistake; it's a trail." 

"So this would be that camaraderie ex-soldiers rave about?" Mary asked. 

"I'm Air Force; they're Marines," Jack replied. "I don't get them 
either." He turned to the squad, and switched into officer mode. "Let's 
move out! Fowler, point; Teal'c following. Wayne, watch our six; the rest 
of you with me. Everyone stay alert, and once we're out of the open I 
want it kept quiet. Handsignals only. Let's go!" 

As the squad moved off, Jack was watching Mary closely, and to her credit 
- and his mild astonishment - she seemed to have been telling the truth 
about her woodsy abilities. She moved carefully and quietly, not looking 
at all the awkward outsider she had been at the SGC. 

They moved slowly, visibility being extremely limited by the thickness of 
the tree cover in all directions except along the trail. Jack had rarely 
seen anything like it, and he had been around. The cool air was filled 
with the scent of pine, and the sound of birdsong. Occasionally Fowler 
would stop, holding up a hand in warning, only for a deer or a rabbit to 
scamper nervously across the track in front of them. 

Mary touched Jack on the arm to get his attention. "Jack," she whispered. 
"Have you noticed? The track?" 

Jack nodded. "Heavy trampling," he replied. "Looks almost like a platoon 
tramped through in parade order, maybe six weeks ago." 

"I thought that there must be regular traffic up and down to the Gate, 
but it looks as though there's just this periodic tramping. It's affected 
the tree growth," she added. "So it's been happening for a long time. And 
look..." 

Jack nodded again as she pointed out where an overhanging branch that had 
been torn away from its tree. The stump was moss-covered, but still 
showed signs of blackening, as though blasted by fire or lightning...or a 
staff weapon. 

Up ahead, Fowler held up her hand again, and gestured that she had heard 
a noise in the undergrowth to the right of the path. It was probably just 
another deer, but the Marines raised their weapons anyway. Fowler 
motioned to Teal'c, and the Jaffa moved up on silent feet, circling 
slightly to his right. 

Then, suddenly, Teal'c sprang to his left, letting his staff weapon fall 
to the ground and disappearing into the scrub. There was the sound of 
struggle, followed by a high-pitched, and definitely human scream. Jack 
moved forward, signalling Parker and Wayne to watch their backs while he 
and the two sergeants covered the thrashing bush. 

The scream was muffled, and after a moment, Teal'c emerged, holding a 
young girl - perhaps twelve or thirteen years old, blonde with pale grey 
eyes - in a firm, but entirely gentle grip. The girl struggled, and 
kicked back at Teal'c shins, and he weathered it stoically. When she saw 
Teal'c's companions she ceased her struggles, trembling like a frightened 
deer. 

"It's okay," Jack promised, in his gentlest tones. "We won't hurt you. 
Teal'c; let her go." 

Teal'c released the girl, who appeared to weigh up her options before 
deciding not to make a run for it. Instead, she tipped back her head, and 
screamed: "Fenrir!" 

"No," Jack told her, holding out his hands in a gesture of peace. "We're 
not Fenrir. We're..." 

The girl's scream ended, and she burst into a stream of babbling 
invective, which reminded Jack of nothing so much as the bitter tirade to 
which Loki had subjected his poor consort, Sigyn, for more than two 
millennia. 

Mary stepped past Jack and knelt in front of the girl, speaking softly to 
her in her own language. Gradually the girl grew quiet, and Mary looked 
back at Jack. "And you thought I wouldn't be any help," she chided. She 
spoke to the girl again, and the child responded, angry and defiant, but 
no longer screaming. 

"Anyone coming?" Jack asked the Marines. 

"Not a sign," Parker replied. 

"Okay then. Parker, Fowler; find us a place to set up camp. It's starting 
to get dark, and I'd like to see what Mary can get out of this kid before 
we go any further." 

                         *******************

"Her name is Roskva," Mary told Jack. She had been bonding with the girl 
over their field rations, neither appearing to think much more of 
military food than Daniel did. Jack had - reluctantly - refused 
permission for her to light a fire and try to catch some rabbits, fearing 
that an open fire would bring too much attention. "It means, 'vigour'," 
she added. "Aptly enough. She seems to be quite a handful." 

"You're doing well with her," Jack acknowledged. 

"Big family," Mary replied. 

"What else has she been saying?" 

"Aside from the personal abuse and slurs on all our parentage?" 

Jack nodded. "Yeah; skip that stuff. I hear enough of it." 

"She lives in the town of Tangrind - tooth gate- at the end of this path. 
Her mother sent her out to gather firewood, and she wandered toward the 
Chappa'ai; I don't know that word," she admitted. "But the dialect is 
rather different from any I know." 

"The Stargate," Teal'c told her, feeling a shiver run down his spine. "It 
is Goa'uld for Stargate; it means that they must have had some influence 
here at one time or another." 

"Well, that's bad then," Mary agreed. "But she says that now a council of 
elders rules the town, and that all important decisions are taken at the 
Thing." 

"The Thing?" 

"It's a town meeting," Mary explained. "Where people meet to discuss 
business and settle grievances. Once a year there is an Allthing... 

"Now you're making this up." 

Mary smiled, and continued as though he had not interrupted."...where 
people from all the towns and villages meet. She says that there is no 
one leader, but that her...again I'm not sure, but I think, her uncle is 
very important. But that could be hyperbole." 

"Oh?" Jack asked. 

"She says that her father and brothers are the strongest and bravest men 
in the land; that her mother wields a sword as well as any man; and that 
this uncle can uproot mighty trees with his bare hands." 

"Her Daddy can beat up my Daddy?" Jack asked. 

"Oh, her Mummy could beat up your Daddy," Mary assured him. "Apparently 
they're going to kill us for hurting her, but I think really she's as 
worried that they'll be angry with her for wandering off. Anyway, when 
she came through the Gate, she believed that we were emissaries of the 
Fire Giants, and she was very afraid." 

"Fire Giants?" Jack asked. 

"The Surtur. She says that they live beneath the Earth, and their 
servants emerge from the Chappa'ai to pillage and steal. These servants - 
trolls, she calls them - are hideous, manlike creatures, and she mistook 
us for them." 

"Hey!" Jack protested. 

"They come when the moon is dark, strike down the townsfolk with staffs 
of cold flame, steal from their harvests and their herds and their 
flocks, and seize the youngest and the strongest of the folk. All that 
they take, they bear back to the Chappa'ai, as tribute to their masters." 

"Jaffa," Teal'c said. "Come to claim tribute for the Goa'uld. On Cimmeria 
they were known as Ettin," he added. "Ask her if she knows the Fire 
Giants by that name." 

Mary turned and spoke to Roskva, who replied with proud defiance and some 
scorn, but a little fear as well. 

Mary listened and said: "She says that Ettin is the name the villagers of 
Jarnas - the Iron Hill - give to the Jotun; the Frost Giants. She doesn't 
think much of the good people of Jarnas by all accounts" The girl carried 
on speaking, and Mary translated. "'Only a fool would confuse Fire and 
Frost', she says. 'The Surtur take and kill, but the Jotun are worse. 
Their hearts are frozen, and they take those whom they desire, and freeze 
their heart also, so that they know only hate and hunger and jealousy'." 

"That is an accurate description of the Goa'uld," Teal'c agreed. 

"She also says that the Jotun have not set foot on this planet in 
centuries. The Surtur make this place their home and defend it jealously. 
She seems pretty happy to face the Surtur instead of the Jotun." 

"She seems pretty well informed about a race not seen for centuries," 
Jack noted. 

"Her mother is the storyteller of Tangrind," Mary explained. "As was her 
grandmother before. That makes them the nearest thing the village would 
have to historians." 

Jack nodded, accepting this. "Sounds like these Fire Giants might be 
Thor's aliens; although he said they live in the space between the 
planets, not inside them." 

"But then the child would likely not know where the Stargate leads," 
Teal'c pointed out. 

"What about Fenrir?" Jack asked Mary, drawing a fierce exclamation from 
Roskva. 

"Apparently, he'll kill us all," Mary said. "She seems rather happy about 
that idea." 

"Do you think he's set himself up as local god?" Jack asked Teal'c. 

"It would seem unlikely if power still rests with the town councils," the 
Jaffa replied. "The Goa'uld have little use for delegated authority." 

"Alright," Jack said at last. "Everyone get some rest. Teal'c, Thomas; 
first watch. Fowler and Parker second; Wayne and I will take third. Four 
hour shifts, and if the night turns out to last more than twelve hours 
around here, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it." 

                         *******************

"You're a soldier, right?" Thomas asked Teal'c. 

"I am a warrior, yes," the Jaffa replied. 

"How do you do your job with a civilian around the whole time?" 

"Daniel Jackson is a valuable member of SG-1," Teal'c replied. "It would 
not be possible for me to do my job without him." 

"But doesn't he get in the way?" 

"In his own way, Daniel Jackson too is a warrior. Moreover, he has 
learned well how to operate within a military unit, and we have learned 
how to work with him, as I have learned how to work with soldiers of the 
Tau'ri. He has, for example, learned not to distract me while I am 
standing watch in enemy territory," he added, ending the conversation.

They stood their watch; or rather, Teal'c stood it and Thomas sat. 

"Time to wake..." Thomas began, as the end of the watch approached. 

"Be silent!" Teal'c whispered. "Listen." 

I don't hear..." 

Teal'c raised his staff weapon into a firing position and snapped it 
open, but did not fire. "They are familiar with staff weapons," Teal'c 
surmised. 

"Who do?" 

"Whoever is out there," Teal'c replied. "Wake the others." 

Thomas did as he was told, shaking first Colonel O'Neill and then Major 
Parker awake. 

Jack rose to stand at Teal'c's shoulder. "Whadda you got?" He asked. 

"At least one person, moving quietly. I barely heard them." Without 
warning, the Jaffa turned and fired, startling the remaining Marines from 
their sleep. 

"Whassappnin!" Mary mumbled, dozily. 

"Stand to!" Jack ordered. "Basic defence pattern; what cover you can." 
The Marines stumbled up, readying their weapons. Fowler got out her rifle 
and scanned the woods through it's night-scope. "Anything?" Jack asked 
the woman. 

"Nothing," Fowler replied. "I...Wait! Movement; eight o'clock." 

Jack turned, but saw nothing. "Try to keep a bead on it, Fowler," he 
said. "Teal'c, swing left a ways, we'll go and take a look. Carefully. 
Mary; stay put and watch the girl." 

On cautious feet, Jack and Teal'c walked slowly in the direction which 
Fowler had indicated. Teal'c swung out to the left, Jack to the right, 
their weapons raised and readied. After about fifteen yards, Jack could 
make out the figure, crouched behind a bush some thirty yards further on. 
It was very still, trying not to be seen, and Jack motioned Teal'c 
further left, wanting the enemy to believe for as long as possible that 
he - or she - had been successful. 

Very slowly, Jack drew his zat, and snapped on the safety of his P90, 
lowering the submachine gun to his side. With painstaking care, he crept 
closer, until he was less than ten feet from the figure, and fired. 
Electricity arced through the figure, but it did not fall. 

Gripped with a sudden premonition, Jack leaped forward and dragged the 
cloak back, revealing that the figure behind the bush was none other 
than...another bush. 

"Oh, hell!" Jack hissed. 

                         *******************

It was not a sound that made Mary turn, so much as a feeling. Something 
ground in by her grandfather's many lessons in woods lore that told her 
all was far from right. So it was that she saw the figure leap from the 
trees, and batter Wayne and Thomas cleanly to the floor; saw him knock 
Major Parker - no small man - almost twelve feet backwards; saw him rip 
the rifle from Fowler's hands with sufficient force to send her sprawling 
to the ground. 

Then he bounded over to where she stood, looked her in the eyes for a 
long, charged moment - his eyes were golden, she noticed, with some 
detached part of her mind - before he scooped Roskva into his arms and 
disappeared into the night. 

On the forest floor, Fowler scooped up and raised her rifle. 

"You'll hit the girl!" Mary warned, as the weapon spoke.  Fowler shot her 
a dirty glance, but lowered the muzzle without firing again. 

                         *******************

Jack and Teal'c returned to the camp to find Fowler glowering into the 
woods, while Mary stooped over Colonel Parker. 

"What happened, Sergeant?" Jack demanded. 

"Some...thing," she replied. "Came out of the woods. Took out the others 
and snatched the girl. I could have brought it..." 

"Him," Mary corrected. 

"*Him* down," Fowler said, with hostility. "But she distracted me." 

"You could have hit the child," Mary admonished. 

"*He* killed my friends," Fowler replied, unrepentant. 

"He killed no-one," Mary assured her. "Just knocked them out. I can't 
even see any serious wounds, although I've only a little first aid," she 
admitted. 

"Why were you not knocked unconscious also?" Teal'c asked. 

"I don't know," Fowler admitted. "He just disarmed me, knocked me down, 
then ran on." 

"Did you hit him?" Jack asked. 

"I don't know sir," Fowler replied. Mary immediately headed for the 
treeline. 

"Mary, wait!" Jack called, as the woman vanished into the night. 

"It's alright," she assured him. "He's gone, but I just...ah ha!" The 
archaeologist jogged back to the camp. "She hit one of them," she said, 
holding up her hand; there was blood on her fingers, and not her own. 

"Which one?" Jack asked. 

"I'm a quarter Mik'maqk who knows a little about tracking," Mary replied, 
with amused exasperation. "Not Tonto." 

With a pained grunt, Thomas began to come around, and Wayne likewise. 
Parker remained out for several minutes more, long enough for his team-
mates to worry and begin to get angry, but once it was obvious that he 
was alright, SG-5 were back to joshing each other about the ease with 
which their phantom attacker had incapacitated them. 

After a while though, Major Parker came over to confer with Jack and 
Teal'c, and his attitude was all business. "We're badly outgunned here," 
he told Jack. "And that's with him unarmed. The man hit like a 
sledgehammer. I've never been punched like that before, and I've been on 
the wrong end of a Jaffa's fist before now." 

"Let's go out on a limb and say that was Fenrir," Jack suggested. 
"Because God help us if that was just a friend of his." 

"If that were Fenrir," Teal'c said. "Why would he not kill all of SG-5 
when he had the chance?" 

"And why not put Sergeant Fowler down?" Jack agreed. "Or so much as touch 
Mary. It doesn't add up." 

"Perhaps things are not as they appear," Teal'c suggested. 

"Then how are things?" Parker asked. 

"I am unsure," Teal'c replied. "I only know that a Goa'uld, however 
powerful, would not be likely to attack alone, nor to leave an injured 
enemy instead of making a kill or capture." 

                         *******************

Wednesday 

As the sky began to grow light, SG-5 gathered up their weapons, their 
wits, and the tattered shreds of their dignity - the first taking more 
time than the second, but far less than the last - and pressed on to the 
village. Jack had decided to seek shelter within the palisade, learn what 
he could about Fenrir, and then call for heavy backup when General 
Hammond opened the Gate to make contact in another fourteen hours. 

As yesterday, they proceeded cautiously along the path, but today they 
were more alert - more paranoid - than before. No-one spoke until they 
were in sight of the palisade - a nine-foot mound of earth, topped by 
fifteen-to-twenty feet of wooden stake fencing - when Mary moved closer 
to Jack and whispered: 

"You see where the ground's been turned? As though to wipe out the tracks 
of whoever made this path. As though they want to pretend they never came 
here." 

Jack nodded, distractedly, his attention taken up by two huge standing 
stones, cut with lines of runes, which formed the gate posts of Tangrind. 
"Can you read those inscriptions?" He asked. 

"Sure; but not from here. At a guess, I'd say that's the 'tooth gate' 
though." 

As they cleared the treeline, a watch-tower loomed over the path, but far 
too high and too near to the forest's edge to be of much use watching the 
road itself. "They're watching the Gate," Jack realised. "Keeping lookout 
for the Fire Giants' servants." 

Jack led SG-5 up to the open gate. They were challenged, and Mary told 
the watchman who stood above the left-hand stone that they were 
travellers from the distant village of Hrossdal, a story she and Jack had 
worked out in advance. Jack did not know if there were villages so far 
afield that the people of Tangrind would not know of them, but from 
talking to Roskva, Mary felt that there was a good chance. Certainly, the 
guards at the gate showed no sign of suspicion, and permitted them to 
enter. 

"Tandgnjost and Tandgrisner," Mary read from the stones. "Toothgnasher 
and Toothgrinder; the goats who drew the chariot of Thor." 

"That is a good sign," Teal'c said. "Those names - like any pertaining to 
the Asgard - are outlawed by the Goa'uld." 

Tangrind was a fair-sized settlement, with around two-dozen houses of 
varying sizes, in addition to a great, central longhouse and the stave 
church. When Jack asked, Mary estimated that each house would hold 
between two and five families, each with anything from five to twenty 
members. That made around a thousand inhabitants; more than some planets, 
including the luckless colony on Keruch. People pointed and stared at the 
strangely dressed newcomers, and many of their looks were hostile. 

"Zat guns only, if this turns sour," Jack instructed. "Let's try to fall 
back to the Gate without causing a massacre. Submachine guns strictly as 
a last resort." 

"That looks like some of the elders," Mary said, gesturing to a small 
group standing at the door of the longhouse. There were two men and three 
women, and they looked to be about of an age with Jack. 

"Okay," Jack said, bridling a little at the implication that he was old 
enough to be an elder. "Basic 'we come in peace', spiel; we'll move onto 
specifics such as 'sorry we lost your kid' once we've broken the ice." 

Mary nodded, and began speaking to the elders, when suddenly a small 
figure dashed from the longhouse, pointed in their direction, and began 
crying what sounded like obscenities in a shrill voice. 

It was Roskva. 

"Mary?" Jack asked. 

"We've just been accused of kidnapping," Mary told them. The faces of the 
elders darkened considerably, and more people - men and women, all 
bearing spears or axes, and a few swords - began to emerge from the 
houses. 

"Fall back," Jack ordered, and they started moving towards the gate. 

"We're surrounded," Parker reported. 

"Great," Jack muttered. "Zats ready everyone, but I'm going to try 
something first." He raised his P90, and fired a short burst into the 
air. The sound was deafening in the crisp morning air, and the folk of 
Tangrind started in fear. "Now move back, slowly," Jack said. "Mary; tell 
them to let us through." 

Mary spoke to the townsfolk, and a path cleared to the gate. SG-5 began 
moving again, and no one tried to stop them. 

"Once we're clear," Jack said, as they passed between the great stones. 
"We head back to the Stargate, double-time, and..." 

Thomas gasped in alarm, and Jack turned, to see that the gateway was 
almost completely obstructed. 

"Well," Jack said. "You're a big boy, aren't you." 

Seven feet tall, and looking almost as wide across the shoulders, there 
could be little doubt that this was the Wolf; Fenrir. He was clean 
shaven, but with a long mane of blonde hair, heavy sideburns and beetle 
brows, and his eyes were gold. He was dressed in wolf furs, wool and 
leather, wore a huge knife at his belt, and looked about as pissed as 
anyone Jack had every seen. 

He seemed to stand still before them for a long time, but even so, not 
one of them was able to react before he moved, striking Thomas with a 
dismissive backhand swipe that knocked him hard into the Tandgrisner 
gate-stone. A second blow put Parker down, even as Teal'c stepped 
forward, snapping his staff forward to strike the Wolf's solar plexus. 

Teal'c's attack was quick and accurate, but Fenrir was quicker, stepping 
aside and grabbing the staff. 

"Back!" Jack ordered. "Get some room. Fowler, watch the crowd; zat only," 
he reiterated. 

The Master Sergeant blasted two approaching warriors, and the rest hung 
back as Wayne and Jack tried to get a bead on Fenrir. "Teal'c! Get out 
the way!" Jack called. 

Fenrir swung the staff across, with the Jaffa still on the end of it. 
Teal'c was battered against first one stone, then the other, before 
finally releasing his weapon. Immediately, Fenrir spun the staff, 
cracking the butt into Wayne's jaw. Jack tried for a shot, but then 
Teal'c was in the way again, grabbing Fenrir around the waist, and trying 
to tackle him to the ground. Fenrir stood firm, and drove his hands down 
onto Teal'c's back, collapsing the Jaffa like a broken doll. 

Again, Jack tried for the shot, but he was distracted by a cry from 
Fowler. Half-turning, he saw her disappearing under a crowd of other 
women. Mary scooped up the zat, and blasted two of the attackers from 
Fowler's back before being dragged down herself. As he turned back to the 
Wolf, Jack felt the P90 torn from his grip, and saw Fenrir looming up, 
towering over him. Instead of striking however, Fenrir held out his hand, 
fingers spread, towards the townsfolk, and spoke in a commanding voice. 

Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Jack drove a left jab into 
Fenrir's side, drawing a howl of pain. He followed with a right, but this 
time Fenrir barely seemed to feel the attack, and simply slapped Jack, 
backhanded, across the face. 

Jack folded like a bad poker hand, and the ground rushed up to smack him 
in the face. 

                         *******************

Jack woke with a splitting pain in his head. He probed his jaw with his 
tongue, and found several teeth that felt loose, but fortunately none 
missing, although he did seem to have lost a filling. He opened his eyes, 
and finding the light bearable began to assess his situation. 

Teal'c sat on a wooden bench, gazing fixedly forward, while Parker, Wayne 
and Thomas were - like Jack - still in the process of recovery. They were 
in a cell, seemingly cut from the living rock, open at one end but 
blocked by iron bars, and lit through a shaft at the top of the wall 
which angled sharply upwards. The quality of the light suggested that it 
was nearly sunset. 

"Where's Fowler?" Parker asked, groggily. 

"Here, Sir," the Sergeant's voice called from outside the cell. "Next 
room along, I think." 

"Is Mary with you?" Jack asked. 

"No, Sir," Fowler replied. "Maybe we lucked out and they decided to eat 
her first." 

"That's enough of that, Sergeant," Jack told the woman, darkly. "They 
weren't going for her at all until she started shooting people off your 
back." 

"Sorry, Sir," Fowler replied, chastened. 

"Damn that guy hits hard," Thomas grunted. 

"Yeah," Jack agreed. "I know you said so, Parker, but...Now I 
understand." 

"He didn't hit me at all," Fowler reported. "I was mobbed and beaten 
unconscious. When I came to in here they insisted on putting some kind of 
salve on my wounds. My fatigues were pretty much shot, so they gave me 
some local togs." 

"How're you holding up, Teal'c?" Jack asked. 

"I should not have lost my temper with Fenrir," Teal'c replied. "I 
allowed myself to become angry, and rushed him instead of falling back 
and using my zat'nik'tel." 

"How strong would you say he was?" Jack ask. "Stronger than most Goa'uld, 
right?" 

"Indeed, O'Neill. Fenrir was at least as powerful as most of the Unas we 
have encountered." 

"Yeah. Thought so," Jack said. "And fast." He stood, clutching his head, 
and heard sounds of activity outside the cell. 

Five guards entered, flanking an attractive young woman in a green dress, 
who carried a cloth bag. 

"That's the Doc," Fowler told them. "The one who put the salve on my 
wounds." 

"Is that salve any good?" Jack asked. 

"Who cares?" Wayne asked, eyeing the 'doctor'. 

Fowler laughed. "I think so," she said, replying to Jack and otherwise 
ignoring the Lieutenant. "I feel pretty good for a stoning victim." 

The guards opened door in the bars, and two of them stood with their 
spears at the ready. Their leader, who wore as symbols of rank a fur-
lined cloak and a heavy sword at his belt, took out a scroll, and read 
out: "O Nell!" 

Jack stepped forward. "I'm O'Neill," he said, enunciating carefully. 

"O'Neill," the leader corrected himself. Then he gestured to the two 
guards who still hung back. One of them stepped aside, and the leader 
indicated that Jack should leave the cell and pass between them. This he 
did, and found the two falling in behind him as an escort. In front of 
him was an open door. 

"Take me to your leader," Jack surmised. As he went, he heard the leader 
call out behind him: "Tilk!" 

                         *******************

As soon as he was above ground level, it became apparent to Jack that he 
was inside the stave church; no other building in the town could be this 
size. The surroundings were familiar to him, being very similar to 
Freyja's hall aboard the Sesrumnir.

"You guys don't speak much English do you?" He asked. "Or in fact, any 
English?" The Guards made no response. "I thought not." 

They arrived at a door, and one of the guards stepped forward to open it, 
and motioned for Jack to go through. 

"Thank..." he began, turning back towards them, the door closed behind 
him, leaving the two guards on the outside. 

"Felcom, Chak O'Neel." 

Jack spun at the sound of the voice, so deep and booming that it could 
only belong to one man. 

"Please, be seaded," the man-mountain continued. "Vor I fould talk vith 
chou." 

Fenrir was seated on a high chair at the head of a large hall. A fire 
burned merrily in a stone hearth against one wall, and a table and chairs 
stood before it. On the other side of the room was an alcove that looked 
to contain a bed. It was all very cosy. 

Seated on a stool in front of Fenrir was a dark-haired woman in a very 
fetching, red woollen dress, hemmed with a brightly-coloured, cross-woven 
band. Jack was fairly certain that he had seen no dark hair on any of the 
townsfolk, and so it came as little surprise when the woman looked around 
and said: "Hi, Jack." 

"Hi, Mary," Jack said. "Nice dress." 

Mary seemed somewhat distracted, which might have had something to do 
with the homespun grandeur of her surroundings, but it seemed more likely 
to be because Fenrir was shirtless. Jack liked to think of himself as 
well toned, but in comparative terms, he knew that he just did not 
measure up. Without his cloak, Fenrir's shoulders no longer looked so 
ludicrously wide, but he was unmistakably powerful, and there could 
hardly have been an ounce of spare fat on his torso. His muscles were 
well-defined, but in a practical way, not like the over-pumped physique 
of a bodybuilder. 

Around his abdomen was a linen bandage. Jack deduced that he probably had 
a wound under his right arm - perhaps from Fowler's rifle - which was the 
only reason he had even felt Jack's first punch through his slab-like 
abdominals. A fine silver chain looped close around his neck and 
shoulders, and under his arms. Jack figured there must be a catch at the 
back, or Fenrir would never be able to take the thing off. //Which must 
be the whole point,// Jack realised. //Because that must be the Gleipnir 
device.//

"Thanks. Take a seat," Mary said, repeating Fenrir's invitation, and 
gesturing to a chair. 

Jack stood, warily facing the Wolf, and declining to sit. "Mary," he 
asked. "Would you mind if I asked what you're doing here..." He looked 
around, regarding the remains of a meal that lay scattered between her 
and Fenrir. "Taking tea with the guy who tried to kill us?" 

Mary pulled her eyes away from Fenrir to look at Jack. "He didn't try to 
kill us," she told him. In fact, he went to some lengths to keep us 
alive." Jack looked sceptical, so she explained: "He attacked the camp to 
rescue Roskva..." 

"She wasn't exactly a prisoner," Jack protested. 

"She claims she was," Mary explained, apologetically. "As a storyteller, 
she seems to really jam on epic melodrama in place of factual reporting, 
and it avoids her having to admit she wandered so far from the village. 
Anyway, he seems to be very fond of the girl, and as she said you were 
cruel to her, he perceived you as a threat to his people." 

"His people?" 

"But," Mary went on, ignoring the interruption. "Roskva said that I was 
wise and gentle..." 

"So he had the village women beat you up?" 

"Jack!" Mary said, exasperated. 

"My people reacted to what zey saw as a sreat," Fenrir said. Jack 
concentrated on his words, and realised that - although heavily-accented 
- his English was really very good. 

"Why do you speak English, and none of them do?" Jack asked. 

"I learned a long time ago," Fenrir replied. Jack found that it got 
easier to understand him each time he spoke. "But it was not the language 
here, so I have not used it in some time." 

"Anyway," Mary took up, taking Jack by the shoulder and steering him a 
little way from Fenrir. "He stopped the women beating Fowler and myself 
to death, and saw to it that our wounds were treated. There should be 
someone seeing to the rest of SG-5 at the moment." 

Jack nodded. "There is, yeah." 

"Since I'm so wise and gentle," Mary said. "Fenrir gave me a chance to 
explain myself. I've told him that what happened with Roskva was a 
misunderstanding, and that we're sorry for frightening her. I've also 
told him that we don't come from the Surtur, or the Jotun, and that you 
are brave and noble warriors." 

"And what else?" Jack asked. 

"That we were looking for my friend, Angharad," she replied. "The rest, I 
told him he'd have to ask you. I didn't know what to tell him about his 
family." 

"What if he's not happy with what I tell him?" 

"The townsfolk want you all executed," Mary told Jack. "Roskva's family 
are highly thought of, and she's apparently turned the story of her 
abduction into a tale of spine-tingling horror. Accepting that she might 
have succumbed to exaggeration..." 

"Like with the uncle who rips up trees with his bare hands. Or is 
that...?" 

Mary nodded. "Fenrir; and I don't think that's too much of an 
overstatement. I mean, you saw how strong he is." 

"I *felt* how strong he is." 

"But apparently she does have a tendency to embroider her tales a little, 
so giving us the benefit of the doubt, they've agreed to abide by 
Fenrir's judgement in the matter. Unless you convince him otherwise, 
we'll all be put to death by order of the council of elders." 

Jack snorted. "I doubt the council of elders would sneeze without his 
permission." 

"Like blaming the Sanhedrin for the crucifixion, you mean," Mary asked, 
concerned. 

"Possibly," Jack said. "If I knew who the Sanhedrin were. Okay," he went 
on, before Mary could start explaining. "I'll talk to him, for all the 
good it'll do." 

"He seems a reasonable man?" Mary said. 

"He's Goa'uld," Jack replied. "Or as near as. Which means he'll keep 
seeming reasonable right up until he gets bored and has us killed." 

Mary frowned. "I don't know," she said. "He doesn't..." 

"Trust me," Jack said. "They're all pretty much alike; even the ones 
who're on our side." He sighed. "But I'll talk to him. I just wish Daniel 
were here." 

"Oh?" 

"Yeah; I get beaten up a lot less when he's around." 

"Good negotiator?" 

"Nah. Everyone just beats up on him instead. Not sure why." 

Jack and Mary turned back to where Fenrir sat, regarding them 
thoughtfully. Mary settled herself back on her stool, and Jack sat in the 
chair that had been provided. 

"So, Jack O'Neill," Fenrir said. "What brings you and your companions to 
Jelling?" 

"We're...explorers," Jack said. "We have a mission to seek out new life, 
and new civilisations. To go boldly where no man has gone before, 
although rather more often than we expected other men seem to have got 
there first. We seek only friendship and understanding, that we might 
learn from other cultures." The last part was cribbed almost word-for-
word from Daniel's preferred mission statement for the SGC, and the 
archaeologist would probably have laughed out loud to hear Jack spouting 
it. On the other hand, Jack had few doubts that Fenrir would not take 
kindly to learning of Jack's mission to defeat his father, and fewer 
compunctions about lying to a Harcesis. 

Jack glanced at Mary, and was impressed by her poker face. 

Fenrir nodded, slowly. "Jack O'Neill," he said at last. 

"Call me Jack," Jack insisted, affably. 

"Jack. I think that you are lying to me." 

"Well," Jack replied. "That shows a lack of trust that's as much your 
problem as mine. Except for the part where I die and you don't, of 
course," he added. 

"Jack," Fenrir said, with every sign of concern. "If you do not convince 
me otherwise, the Jaffa and the men will be executed by the spear, and 
the shieldmaiden stoned to death by the women of the town." 

"Shieldmaiden?" Jack asked. 

"Sergeant Fowler," Mary explained. 

"Oh. I think 'maiden' might be overstating the case," Jack said. 

Fenrir did not look amused. "I can try to help you, if you tell me the 
truth. If not...As she is not a warrior - and with Roskva's support - I 
believe I may be able to persuade the townsfolk to allow Mary to return 
through the Chappa'ai with a warning for your people to never come here 
again, but that is all." 

"You're all heart," Jack replied, acidly. 

"The people of Jelling have long since learned to mistrust those who come 
from the Chappa'ai," he said. "Once, they lived under the absolute 
tyranny of the Surtur, but they no longer submit to them, and they will 
not submit to you. If your people attempt an attack on us, you will be 
resisted." 

"Attack?" Jack demanded, hotly. "Tyranny? We're not the ones dictating 
terms and living in a church." 

"Jack..." Mary cautioned, but Jack was just getting up a head of steam. 

"You tell us the people won't submit to tyranny; well what about yours?" 

"I am no tyrant," the Wolf growled, fury banking behind his eyes. 

"You bring me in here, threatening to kill my men..." 

"I threaten none," Fenrir responded, rising from his seat. "I am trying 
to *help* you!" 

"Like you *helped* the people of Keruch?" 

For a long moment, Jack was certain that Fenrir was about to go for him, 
and he was sickeningly aware that he would probably come off by far the 
worst in that confrontation. The giant's eyes glistened with tears of 
rage, his fists clenched until his knuckles practically shone white, and 
a bestial growl escaped from his throat.

"Jack," Mary whispered. "Please..." She turned to Fenrir. "He doesn't 
mean..."

"Yes," Fenrir said, tightly. "He does." He turned his eyes form Jack to 
Mary, and his face softened. "And perhaps he is right. But I must try to 
help them," he told Jack. "For these are my people now." He slumped into 
his chair, despondent.

"And what *exactly* do you do for them?" Jack asked. "Laying down the law 
from your temple?"

"Uh...Jack," Mary said. "It's not a temple. Or a church." She looked 
embarrassed. "I know I said it was a stave church, and it *is* built just 
like one. But it's not a church."

"Well, what is it?" Jack asked her.

"It's a school," Mary replied.

"A training ground for your soldiers?" Jack accused Fenrir.

"No," Mary said. "I saw what goes on here. They teach medicine, and 
animal husbandry and crop rotation."

"Also blacksmithing, stave building and drystoning," Fenrir added.

"All the towns and villages send some of their children here to learn, 
and they take the skills back to their homes."

Fenrir nodded. "More importantly, they get to know the children of the 
other settlements. As people, not as enemies. When I was first sent here 
the population was fragmented," he explained. "A handful of villages, 
each ruled by a degenerate, inbred warrior-aristocracy, feeding their 
youngest children and their strongest peasants to the Surtur as tribute."

"And you brought them together," Jack said. "One big, happy army of 
slaves."

"No..." Fenrir began to rise, but sat back down with a grunt.

"Oh my God," Mary whispered. "Your side..."

Fenrir looked down, to where a red stain was growing on his bandages. 
Jack eyed Fenrir shrewdly. He looked weakened, but just what that meant 
was unclear. Fenrir was strong enough that Jack was far from sure he 
could take him, even at less than full capacity.

"It's nothing," Fenrir assured Mary, returning Jack's calculating gaze.

"Jack," Mary said. "I really think we can trust him."

"We really can't."

"Why not?"

Jack glowered at her. "Ask Daniel what happened to his wife," he said. 
"Ask Teal'c about what he did in the service of Apophis. Ask Sam what 
happened to her father on Netu, or ask me about all the friends I've 
buried since the Stargate Programme began." He locked his gaze with 
Mary's, his eyes flinty. "And if we actually manage to find her; ask 
Annie why you can't *ever* trust a Goa'uld."

"That's not true," Fenrir protested, earnestly.

"No?" Jack replied. "Well why don't we ask Teal'c then?"

"The Jaffa?" Fenrir asked.

"Yeah."

"Very well," Fenrir agreed, somewhat to Jack's surprise. Suppressing 
another pained gasp, the giant rose and strode to the door, only a slight 
limp betraying his injury.

"You look like you weren't expecting him to say that," Mary observed.

Jack shot the woman an angry glance. "I'm just not sure why he cares what 
we think of him. I'd expect him to be onto the torture by now."

"Maybe he really is different," Mary suggested, not blinking in the face 
of Jack's anger. Jack wondered if the archaeologist really was as brave 
as she seemed, or if she just could not conceive of a situation in which 
anyone really would cause her deliberate harm.

"He's not," Jack replied. "He can't be; by which I mean it literally 
isn't possible. The Goa'uld have a genetic memory, which means their kids 
are *born* smart and evil."

Mary's face fell. "He seemed..."

Jack let himself soften slightly. "I know. They can be very...persuasive 
when they want to be. I'm just not sure what kind of game he's playing. 
He's got us in his power; why does he care what we think?"

"Search me," Mary retorted, in a brittle voice. "You're the one who knows 
these things."

"Don't take it so personally," Jack told her. "We've all been duped one 
time or another."

"It's not..." Mary sighed. "Never mind. But what do we do? What if you 
establish his evilness beyond a shadow of doubt? We're still stuck here."

"For now," Jack said. "I'm mostly playing for time. Also, with Teal'c 
here and him injured, we might have a chance of taking Fenrir. Other than 
that, I'm pretty much winging it," he admitted.

                         *******************

Teal'c was brought up from the cells by the guards, and it was 
immediately apparent that he would not be much use in a fight against 
Fenrir.

"Is that thing broken?" Jack asked, pointing at the bindings on the 
Jaffa's arm.

"It is merely sprained, O'Neill," Teal'c assured him. "And my shoulder 
was dislocated."

"Sorry to hear that," Jack said, with feeling.

Teal'c looked stoic. "It was my own fault, O'Neill."

"How do you figure that?" Mary asked, pointedly not looking in Fenrir's 
direction. "You're not the one who slammed you into a wall."

"I should have released my staff weapon as soon as I became aware that I 
was facing an opponent of superior strength," Teal'c explained. "And I 
should not have attempted to assault him bare-handed."

Jack looked up at Fenrir, but the Harcesis was apparently lost in 
thought. He took an experimental step towards the man, and the golden 
eyes raised slowly towards him. His bandage was completely red on one 
side, but the stain appeared to have stopped spreading.

"So Fenrir here," Jack said. "Claims that he has only the best 
intentions."

"That would seem unlikely." Teal'c replied.

"He seems to want to know why we won't trust him," Jack added. "Why don't 
you tell him, Teal'c?"

So Teal'c did; outlining his duties in the service of Apophis, in 
considerable - one might almost say unnecessary - detail. Mary shivered, 
and at one point asked to be excused. Fenrir appeared to be almost as 
disturbed, but still made a show of consideration for Mary, which she 
shrugged off, harshly.

"The nature of the Goa'uld does not change," Teal'c said. "In all of 
their history, only one Goa'uld Queen and her brood have truly succeeded 
in changing, and even the Tok'ra remain insular, superior and 
condescending, sometimes with little true consideration for the 'lesser' 
species that they blend with."

"But you admit then that it *is* possible for a Goa'uld to want something 
other than power?" Fenrir said.

"Possible, but almost unheard of," Teal'c replied. "The Goa'uld became 
fixed in their ways millennia ago. Even before they are mature enough to 
blend with a host, they are capable of deception and malice. My love was 
betrayed and destroyed by the Goa'uld larva that she carried inside her."

"But I am not Goa'uld," Fenrir protested. He seemed to be appealing to 
Mary, but the archaeologist would not even meet his eye.

"You are Harcesis," Teal'c replied. "You have the memories, and the 
darkness of the Goa'uld inside you. Daniel Jackson is probably the finest 
human being that I know..."

"Thanks, Buddy," Jack muttered.

"You and I are both killers, O'Neill, in a way that Daniel Jackson could 
never be."

Jack shrugged, conceding the point.

"But Daniel Jackson was once granted the opportunity to learn what he 
would do with the knowledge of a Harcesis, and he saw that he would 
become as the Goa'uld are."

"It's not true," Fenrir insisted. "Ask anyone in Tangrind if I seek to 
dominate them. Ask them out of my presence if you think I might 
intimidate them."

"How about your historian?" Jack asked. "Roskva's mother. Let us talk to 
her."

"Very well," Fenrir said. "Ask the guards to invite her here. Her name is 
Gerda. I will leave and let you talk to her in private."

"Actually; I think it might be more interesting to talk to her with you 
here," Jack said. "Mary, would you..." He motioned towards the door, and 
Mary nodded, before going to speak to the guards. Fenrir looked glad not 
to be asked to move, and settled pensively in his chair.

"What are you thinking, O'Neill?" Teal'c asked in a whisper.

"That he's flagging," Jack replied. "We need to spin this out a little 
longer, and we have a shot at getting out alive."

It took only a few minutes for Gerda to arrive. A fresh-faced, handsome 
woman of around Mary's age, she had the same fair colouring as the rest 
of the people, although her eyes were a darker shade of blue, and her 
hair a little more coppery than golden. She carried a large bag on a 
shoulder strap.

"Your wound!" She exclaimed, on seeing Fenrir's bloodstained bandages, 
Mary providing a translation for Jack and Teal'c.

"I will be fine," Fenrir insisted, once more.

"Rubbish," Gerda retorted, and at once set about cleaning and rebinding 
his wound, taking fresh bandages and some kind of poultice from her bag. 
"Just because you heal fast is no reason to be complacent," she scolded 
him.

Jack was a little amused by the scene, but only a little; Gerda's 
intervention might stop Fenrir weakening far enough.

"Excuse me, Gerda," he said, speaking through Mary. "Could you tell us 
what your history records about Fenrir's arrival here?"

"Very little," Gerda replied. "The stories I was taught by my mother tell 
of a Jotun named Sedna, who came to our home from the North. She was 
harried by her brother gods, Malina and Aningan, and so she gathered our 
people to be her servants."

"Good Lord!" Mary exclaimed, interrupting her own translation. 
"Greenland."

"Greenland?" Jack asked.

"The Western Greenland Viking colony all but vanished overnight," she 
explained. "They weren't doing so well, but no-one really knows why they 
vanished so suddenly."

"I guess now we do," Jack replied.

"Sedna brought us through the stars to this land," Gerda continued, after 
Mary had explained the interruption. "In her ship of iron."

"Why would a Goa'uld use a ship when there is a Stargate on this world?" 
Teal'c mused.

"Vikings, Teal'c," Jack reminded him. "By the time these people were 
brought here, the Stargate on Earth had been buried for centuries."

Gerda took up her tale again, showing great patience for the 
interruptions. She spoke evenly and calmly, with none of the tell-tale 
glances at Fenrir that might have indicated nerves or intimidation. 
"Sedna left once we had been delivered here, and gave our people with 
certain instructions: To obey those she made or lords; to build a temple 
to her glory; to kill any who passed through the Chappa'ai without her 
leave and her sign; and to mine the fire-rocks from the Northern 
mountains."

"Fire-rocks?" Jack asked.

"It's what she said," Mary replied. "I can't give a better translation."

"The element known as naquadah," Fenrir explained. "It occurs in the 
northern mountains in some quantity."

"Sedna told our ancestors that she would soon return, but at her 
departure, a bright light filled the sky, and some said that this was the 
goddess dying."

"Her ship was destroyed," Teal'c surmised. "For intruding in this 
system."

"The leaders we were given began to argue how best to obey Sedna's 
commands, and indeed whether she should be obeyed at all if she were 
dead. Each took their followers to found their own village, several of 
which still hold the beginnings of a temple to Sedna; all abandoned 
before they were finished. Kirkhafn has the most complete, and the walls 
there bear this early history in runic script."

Mary spoke to Gerda in her own tongue. "I was just saying that I would 
like to see that," she explained to Jack. "She says she would be glad to 
take me there if the elders don't order my death," she added.

"Not long after Sedna left, the Surtur began to send their trolls to 
attack us. They said that their masters ruled this world and the worlds 
above and below it, and we must pay them tribute. When we refused to pay, 
they took. They took food, wood and fire-rock; and they took people. 
Children on the verge of adulthood were favoured; the best and the 
brightest of us."

Fenrir's hands tightened o the arms of his chair, and a look of tight 
control came over his face.

"The villages began making offerings, and to keep the Giants from 
claiming the best that they had to offer, they would steal from other 
villages. Raid and counter-raid, growing in scale and escalating into 
long-held and bitter feuds. It was a dark time, but also the first time 
that people began to speak of the Wolf.

"There are tales of children taken by the trolls, yet returned to their 
families along with the other tributes; all spoke of a great wolf, that 
walked as a man, and saved them from the trolls. These tales spread, 
until at long last, in the time of my grandmother's grandmother's 
grandmother, the Wolf revealed himself to the people."

"How long ago is that?" Jack asked.

Mary shrugged. "Hundred and fifty years perhaps."

"It was my grandmother's grandmother's grandmother who first spoke with 
the Wolf, and came to realise that he was a man," Gerda went on. "She 
brought him to the village - for Tangrind was but a small village then - 
and he saw how we lived, and he began to teach us better ways of doing 
things."

"So, what has he done for you?" Jack asked.

"He helped us to settle the feuds, and organise ourselves to protect 
against the trolls. If it were not for Fenrir and the academy, I would 
never have met my husband; a man from Kirkhafn. If not for him, I would 
have died in childbirth, and my Roskva would have died also."

"But he demands a price?" Jack asked. "This hall for example. The people 
built it; like they were going to build the temple to Sedna?"

"Oh, no," Gerda replied. "In my grandmother's grandmother's time, Fenrir 
raised the hall by his own hands. Many of the young men helped, but of 
their own will, so that they could learn the way of it. Then they went 
home to their farms and their villages, and they made their homes the 
same way."

"Does he teach you to fight?"

"He taught us to fight the trolls. To work together and to seek shelter 
behind the walls."

"What about the guards outside? Are they his servants?"

"No. In fact, he told us they were not necessary, but the Council did not 
feel it was wise to have dangerous prisoners in the Academy unguarded. 
The cells are usually used only to hold unruly students for the night," 
she admitted. "And they are not very strong."

                         *******************

Jack was still trying to think of another question to ask Gerda when a 
cacophony of blaring horns cut through the air.

"Would any of your people be coming through the Chappa'ai?" Fenrir 
demanded of Jack.

"I'm not expecting anyone," Jack replied.

"Trolls," Fenrir hissed, standing and pulling on a woollen kirtle.

Gerda's face turned white with fear. Fenrir noticed, moved to the woman, 
and spoke softly to her. She responded, her voice quavering.

"What are they saying?" Jack asked.

"She says...Oh God; she says that since she came back with no firewood 
last time, she sent Roskva out to gather more, and she does not think she 
is back yet. Fenrir is telling her to find out, and that he will bring 
her back."

Fenrir gently kissed the top of Gerda's head.

"He told her to go to her husband," Mary added, as the woman hurried out. 
"And see that the beacons are lit."

Meanwhile, the Wolf was drawing on an overshirt and his heavy cloak.

"This could work for us," Jack suggested. "We can break out while the 
townsfolk are fighting the trolls, and get back to the Stargate. Finding 
the stone is probably a bust, but if the Asgard are right about these 
Fire Giants, then no Goa'uld should be able to come here."

"But they could send Jaffa," Teal'c reminded him.

"Look at him," Mary urged, pointing to Fenrir, who was arming himself 
with a heavy sword and a short, thick bow, his brow furrowed with 
concern. "Is that pretence?"

"I'm sure you have a point," Jack said, impatiently.

"My *point* is that all other things aside, the man is plainly nuts about 
this kid - him and the rest of this town - and whatever he says, he's 
working around a major gunshot wound. Now, if he goes out there to fight 
these trolls, there's a good chance he'll run into trouble, and that 
would be it for both him and the girl, right?"

"Right," Jack agreed.

"So if someone were able to help him out, thus saving his life and 
rescuing his Little Rose..."

"Little Rose?" Teal'c asked.

"It's his pet name for Roskva," Mary explained. "But if someone were to 
do that, Fenrir might well be construed as *owing that person a favour*."

"The Goa'uld are not know for keeping their word, or for paying their 
debts," Teal'c said.

"Well...whatever!" Mary snapped, exasperated. "But there's a little girl 
out in those woods. Now are you going to leave her there, or what?"

"She has a point," Teal'c admitted.

Jack sighed. "Okay." He turned to Fenrir. "Hey! Fenrir!"

"I have little time, Jack," the Wolf replied. "Please be quick."

"If you let them, my people can help yours defend the town," Jack said.

"I do not trust you," Fenrir said.

"And that's why I'm going with you to find Roskva. So you can keep an eye 
on me."

"You couldn't keep up," Fenrir assured him.

"With you on top form, maybe," Jack agreed. "But you're not exactly at 
your best. Now, even armed I reckon I still couldn't take you alone, so 
I'll be a hostage to my people's good behaviour."

Fenrir looked uncertain, but as he stood in thought, more horn blasts - 
ever so slightly different - sounded from outside.

"Mai'tac!" The giant snapped, with a savagery that made Mary start. 
"There are beacon fires at two of the other villages," he explained. "The 
trolls have come in force." He shook his head. "Very well, Jack; I accept 
your help, and will ask the Council to release your friends to aid in the 
defence of the town."

                         *******************

The marines of SG-5 had been waiting for several hours when Teal'c and 
Mary returned, and the guards unlocked the doors.

"What's happening?" Fowler asked. "What are those horns?"

"The town is under attack," Teal'c told her. "Colonel O'Neill has made a 
bargain that we may prove our faith with these people by helping them to 
defend themselves."

"Great," Parker said. "Do we know anything about the enemy?"

"Mary Lasuip?" Teal'c asked.

"They're called trolls," she said. "Guthwulf here," she indicated one of 
the guards. "Tells me that they are seven feet tall, with skin like 
leather, limbs like tree trunks and fists like iron."

"Oh, wacko," said Thomas, without enthusiasm.

Mary continued with her briefing as they left the cell area. "They each 
carry an iron cudgel, bound with lightning, which we *think* is something 
similar to a taser. Apparently these cudgels can shoot lightning up to 
thirty paces, but are ineffective against the palisade fence. Hand-to-
hand, the cudgel can splinter bone, and release an incapacitating charge 
with contact. Again, this seems to be no good against wood, so the 
villagers use wooden shields. A small number carry some manner of 
blasting weapon however.

"If it comes to hand-to-hand, Guthwulf says the trolls are powerful, but 
slow and stupid. The townsfolk work in pairs, one defending with a large 
shield, the other attacking with a spear."

"So which of us get spears and which get shields?" Wayne asked.

"We don't," Mary replied, leading them into a storeroom where their 
weapons were laid out on a table.

                         *******************

"We begin combat on the palisade," Teal'c told the marines. "Pick your 
shots well until we know where to shoot the trolls."

"The guards say to go for the throat or the eyes if possible," Mary 
added. "Otherwise the chest; and to shoot them a lot. Also, they hate 
light, so keep near to the houses and the torches."

From the top of the palisade, the Marines had a commanding view of the 
area in front of the gates. Guthwulf assured them that there were 
spotters all around the palisade in case of a flank attack, but that in 
six and a half centuries, the trolls had never been known to try anything 
but a frontal assault. Thomas and Parker took up positions, while Wayne 
found a place above the gates to properly brace the M249. Thomas broke 
and loaded the M79.

"Fowler," Parker said, pointing out beyond the palisade. "I want you up 
that watch tower with your rifle."

"Yes, Sir," Fowler acknowledged, moving to obey.

"Thomas; give Miss Lasuip your zat'nik'tel."

"Sir...?"

"Sergeant?"

"Yes, Sir." Thomas removed the zat holster from his belt, and handed the 
weapon to Mary.

"Colonel O'Neill says you know how to use one of these," Parker told her.

"Well...I managed to get an idea of the basics," she said.

"We have no idea if it will work to stun or kill these trolls, so I 
recommend three shots. That'll do for most things."

"Yes, Sir," Mary said.

"You should remain below, Mary Lasuip," Teal'c told her.

Mary looked about to protest, but instead she grinned with relief. 
"Thanks. I'll do that."

As Mary bounded down the palisade steps, Parker's field radio hissed. 
"Fowler here; do you read?"

"I read you, Sergeant. Go ahead."

"I'm in position, Sir. I can see most of the courtyard and all of the 
area in front, and we have movement in the trees."

"Roger that, Sergeant," Parker acknowledged. "Stand ready," he ordered. 
The marines raised their weapons. "What do you reckon for range on the 
P90s?" He asked Thomas.

"Half to the treeline," the Captain replied. "Absolute tops."

"Then don't squeeze off a shot before then."

Next to them, Teal'c levelled his staff weapon at the treeline. "They 
come," he said, simply.

Parker squinted into the darkness. "Bleeding hell," he muttered.

                         *******************

Jack followed Fenrir through the woods, hearing the tramp of heavy feet 
far to their right. "Are you sure she went this way?" He asked.

"Almost," Fenrir replied. "I'm a good tracker, but she's a cunning one, 
my little Rose." There was pride in his voice, mixed with his fear for 
Roskva's safety.

"If you're so keen to protect these people," Jack said. "Why haven't you 
given them better weapons? Zat'nik'tels? Staff weapons? Or posted guards 
at the Chappa'ai with a couple of those big energy cannon jobs?"

"When the Asgard marooned me on what they thought was a deserted world, 
they gave me none of these things," Fenrir replied.

"Can't you make them? You said there was a plentiful naquadah supply?"

"I wouldn't know how," Fenrir admitted.

"What about all that genetic memory?" Jack asked. "You're a Harcesis; you 
should know everything. Weapons, spaceships, armour, satellite death 
rays; all that kind of thing?" 

Fenrir shook his head. "Such was not my inheritance," he said. I was not 
gifted with the same knowledge as my sister. She was always the clever 
one; I just muddle through."

Jack looked at him, dubiously. "You mean you have no genetic memory at 
all?"

"I remember some things," Fenrir admitted. "Things I never learned. Like 
the things that I teach at the Academy; the skills of a farmer, and a 
healer. These things...I think that my parents were these things once."

"Your parents? You mean their hosts?" Jack asked.

"Perhaps," Fenrir said. "I do not quite understand how it works. My 
father..." He trailed off, pained. "My father always considered me to be 
worse than a failure; a waste of flesh and blood he called me. Only my 
sister would stand up for me," he added, almost reverently. "She treated 
me kindly, and tried to help me become more powerful, so that father 
might see me differently."

"How did she help you?" Jack asked, warily.

"She was a genius," Fenrir said. "She altered me: Made me stronger, 
faster, smarter; implanted me with the devices which keep me alive."

"She used you as a guinea pig," Jack said, disgusted.

"Guinea pig?"

"As a test subject. To see which implants might take well in her."

"No," Fenrir insisted. "She had only my best interests at heart. She was 
a good, kind person to spend so much effort on someone little more than 
an animal."

Jack felt his blood was about to boil. By some fluke, Loki and Angrboda 
had birthed an innocent, with a gift for aiding others, and they had made 
him feel like a dumb beast. His sister - his *twin* sister - had used him 
as a big, affable lab rat, and he had never realised.

"Fenrir?" Jack asked. "What happened on Keruch?"

Fenrir was silent for a long moment. "Father always refused to grant me 
the governance of any of his systems," he said at last. "I believed I had 
a lot to offer, particularly on a newly-founded colony, but he never gave 
me the chance to prove myself."

"Oh boy," Jack whispered, realising he might have inadvertently triggered 
an episode of teary nostalgia.

"Keruch was one of the worlds that father granted governorship of to my 
sister, and she allowed me to oversee its early development. I was so 
excited," he said, wistfully. "So full of plans and good intentions. I 
knew I had a great deal to offer these people, and that if I could make 
something of this world, then father would see that I was not useless."

"So you ground them beneath the iron heel like a good little Harcesis..."

"No!" Fenrir snapped. "Why do you...!" He realised that he was shouting, 
and lowered his voice. "Why do you always say these things? My kin have 
never sought to harm others."

"So what did you do on Keruch?" Jack asked, putting aside the need to 
introduce Fenrir to some home truths for another time.

"Much as I have done here," Fenrir replied. "I taught them how to farm 
and build, and to tend their sick and wounded. They were afraid of me at 
first; of my appearance."

"How could that possibly be?"

"But they came to accept me," the giant continued. "In time I gained 
their trust, and a wife and a child." He sighed. "My father refused to 
recognise my achievements, but I no longer cared so much."

Jack felt a lump in his throat, knowing how this story of domestic idyll 
was due to end.

"But then my sister sent an urgent message to me, asking if I would aid 
her in battle against one of her enemies; a lesser System Lord named 
Kepher. I did so, but when I returned home to Keruch..." Fenrir choked on 
a sob, then looked up at Jack with haunted eyes. "It was like walking 
into a nightmare," he whispered.

                         *******************

It appeared that Guthwulf had not exaggerated when describing the trolls. 
The creature who stepped from the treeline was easily seven feet tall, 
with dark, greenish skin that certainly looked as through it should be 
tough as boot-leather. It's eyes were large, and recessed behind a heavy 
brow. Its hair was a lank, blonde mane, peeking out from under a conical 
helmet, and it wore armour of leather and steel plates, fashioned much in 
the style of the Jelling-folk's tunics. It carried a heavy club, on which 
the occasional light flashed and blinked.

Through his field glasses, Parker could see the creature's eyes, dark, 
beady and malevolent, glowering from beneath a heavy brow. At this 
distance, in this light, it was all but impossible to see how many of the 
creatures skulked in the woods behind the leader.

"Thomas," Parker whispered. "Ready with a flare, but don't put it up 
until I give the word."

"Yes, Sir."

The leader took six long strides forward, to stand before the gates. 
Parker panned up with his glasses, and saw Fowler sighting the monstrous 
figure with her rifle. "Hold your fire for now, Sergeant," Parker 
whispered into his radio. "If the situation goes south, Thomas will put 
up a flare and you should fire at will."

"Roger that, Sir."

Teal'c observed the marines quietly, impressed by their efficiency. Jaffa 
warriors led lives of near-absolute discipline, rarely letting their 
control falter, even when in the presence of none but family and friends. 
There was nothing of the joking that went on between human soldiers, and 
Teal'c often found himself entertaining doubts about the professionalism 
of human soldiers; until they went into action.

Teal'c raised his own field radio. "Sergeant Fowler," he said. "Are you 
able to ascertain the number of trolls still hiding in the woods?"

"Sorry, Sir," Fowler replied. "It's too dark back there."

The troll began to speak, and its voice was as hideous as its aspect; 
guttural and harsh, as though every word were an obscenity. The language 
was recognisably the antique Norse dialect of the people of Jelling, and 
while Teal'c did not understand that tongue, the tone was clear and 
familiar: The troll was demanding that the people of Tangrind deliver up 
their tribute, and threatening dire consequences for resistance.

Teal'c levelled his staff weapon at the treeline, waiting. Dark shapes 
moved between the trees; many of them. Not for the first time since 
joining SG-1, Teal'c wished he had managed to bring more Goa'uld 
munitions - specifically a supply of shock grenades and tacs - with him 
when he defected.

One of the townsfolk stood on the palisade and shouted down to the troll, 
his voice defiant. The troll called back a threat, which was answered 
with jeers and catcalls from the assembled warriors. There was fear 
behind the defiance however, and Teal'c guessed that the townsfolk were 
becoming aware of just how many trolls had come for them.

The troll spoke again, in a 'last warning' kind of voice. In response, an 
arrow streaked from the top of the palisade, striking it in the collar. 
The arrow punched clear through the troll's body, but did not seem to 
phase it overmuch.

"Thomas," Parker said, and the Sergeant fired a signal flare, the 
brilliant phosphorescent light casting an eerie glow over the clearing 
before the town, and revealing rank upon rank of the horrid trolls 
crouched at the treeline and beyond.

With a fierce crack, the lead troll's head split open under the force of 
a rifle shot. The townsfolk were plainly stunned, but the trolls, if they 
were impressed, did not show it. With a fierce warcry, uttered in no 
language Teal'c had even heard before, they surged forward from the 
trees.

                         *******************

"My people had become...worse than animals," Fenrir told Jack. "They were 
fighting each other; fighting tooth and nail and *killing* each other 
with their bare hands. Mothers killing their children; husbands killing 
their wives; brothers tearing each other apart. And when there was no one 
nearby for them to kill...They fed," he whispered, in a voice filled with 
horror.

"Fed on...?" Jack began to ask, but stopped, appalled. "Oh. God."

"I didn't know what to do," Fenrir went on. "I fought my way to my house, 
to protect my family, but..." He shivered, and paused a log time before 
going on. "But when I got there, my wife had already killed our child, 
and...

"I couldn't let it go on," he whispered, hoarsely. "But they wouldn't 
stop, and they turned on me. *She* turned on me. My own wife." The giant 
choked back a sob.

"After they were dead. I found...In the village centre, I found Kepher's 
standard. This was his revenge for his defeat; this cruel, *obscene* 
annihilation of my people. So I went after him, and I helped Hel to 
destroy him, and all of *his* people." Fenrir's voice was full of 
bitterness as he spoke, and a hatred that still burned strongly against 
Kepher. "I went too far," he said. "I know that. But I was *so* angry."

"The Asgard..." Jack began.

"The Asgard put me here to punish me," Fenrir said. "I avoided them for 
so long, because I was afraid of what they might do to me. But they did 
me a kindness sending me here; where I could find another people to 
protect. Where I could make amends."

"It's because of the Asgard I'm here," Jack admitted.

"I suspected as much," Fenrir allowed.

"They told me about Keruch; and about Kepher. But they said...They told 
me that Hel staged the attack on her home in order to justify the 
retributive attack on Kepher."

"No," Fenrir whispered. "It's not true. Why would she do that?"

"Did you tell her you wouldn't help her go after him?" Jack asked. "When 
you had driven off his troops?"

"I did."

"And did you go straight home? Or did she persuade you to rest up first?"

"She did...No!" Fenrir insisted. "You can't believe that."

"When it comes to the Goa'uld, I'll believe almost anything," Jack told 
him. "So long as it's bad."

Fenrir looked lost, and deeply conflicted. Jack was surprised to find 
that he felt genuinely sorry for the guy.

Behind them, the sound of gunfire cut through the night.

"Looks like the trolls have reached Tangrind," Jack observed.

Ahead of them, they heard a scream. As one, their heads turned to the 
sound, and they said: "Roskva!"

                         *******************

As the trolls rushed forward, a volley of arrows fell among them, and a 
few fell. Then Wayne opened up with the SAW, taking down more of them, 
but the line barely faltered. Every few seconds, Fowler would rack up 
another kill with her rifle, but with no obvious leaders, the value of a 
sniper was limited. Thomas fired off a couple of rounds from the M79, but 
the trolls quickly came too close for the grenades to arm before impact. 
The trolls were however discomforted by the light from the flare, 
confused and perturbed by the grenade blasts, and the energy bolts from 
Teal'c's staff weapon gave them pause. This was not the fight they had 
expected, and they did not seem to like it.

Even as the trolls came into effective range of Thomas and Parker's P90s, 
they began returning fire with their cudgels; flickering energy blasts 
spitting forth, accompanied by a fierce hissing sound. A few townsfolk 
were struck by these blasts, and fell, immobilised from the palisade, but 
most showed a well developed knack in ducking back at the right moments 
to allow the blast to flash overhead, or dissipate on the surface of the 
wood.

Wayne arched backwards, electricity arcing through his body, but he was 
on the widest part of the walkway, and did not fall. Parker hurried over 
to his fallen comrade, checked to see that he was still alive, then 
manned the SAW himself, cutting through the massed ranks of trolls like a 
scythe.

The trolls began to slow, unable to approach the wall too closely without 
losing line of sight on the defenders. For a moment, it looked as though 
they would advance no further, but Teal'c was an old hand, and knew in 
his gut that something would give soon.

In fact, several somethings gave.

First, the SAW jammed. After a cursory check, Parker abandoned the weapon 
and switched back to his P90, but the machine gun's weight of fire was 
missed.

Second, the trolls brought out their blasting weapons. Obviously short-
range devices, these were squat tubes, firing an energy pulse which 
caused the wood of the palisade to explode from the inside. Much later, 
Sam determined that these weapons used microwave technology, heating the 
moisture in a target to cause this internal detonation, and Teal'c was 
sincerely glad not to have seen one fired at a human being. The 
collateral effect of the weapon was bad enough, as defenders were thrown 
from the palisade walkway amid showers of splinters. Teal'c and the 
marines concentrated their fire on the wielders of these devices, but 
most of the townsfolk were already abandoning the palisade and forming up 
in the courtyard.

Finally, the gate fell. Under assault by the blasting weapons, the great 
boards splintered and shattered, and the way was opened. With a cry of 
triumph, the trolls charged forward, crashing into a line of shields. The 
shield bearers - mostly women - were driven back by the impact, but a 
rank of spearmen behind them thrust forward at the trolls, stabbing at 
throats and faces while the paralysing charges from the cudgels spattered 
harmlessly on shield and spear-shaft.

Turning, Teal'c fired into the troll ranks from behind, but as they 
pressed in over the bodies of the dead, the lines began to blur. Snapping 
closed the tip of his staff weapon, Teal'c leaped down into the melee.

                         *******************

Jack ran through the forest behind Fenrir, marvelling at the big man's 
turn of speed and agility. He knew himself to be in good shape, but he 
had completely lost sight of Fenrir when he heard the Harcesis' voice 
raised in a savage roar. The tell-tale sounds of combat filtered back 
through the trees - a clash of steel, this hiss-bark of discharging 
energy weapons - and Jack slowed, approaching the scene with more caution 
than Fenrir.

Fenrir was locked in battle with six foes. Roskva lay on the ground, 
battered and bruised, but looking largely unhurt. She was however 
shivering and twitching in a worrying manner. The enemy, Jack took to be 
trolls; monstrous figures as large as the Wolf himself, but plainly not 
so strong. Even as Jack approached, a slash of Fenrir's sword severed the 
head from one of the trolls, and a quick punch sent another staggering. 
He blocked a strike from a troll's cudgel on his blade, shrugging off the 
electrical discharge which arced into his arm, and riposting with a lunge 
that skewered the attacker through the throat. For a moment, Jack 
actually doubted if Fenrir needed his help, but as the troll staggered 
away, the Wolf's sword was pulled from his hand, and a troll struck his 
side - where the bullet wound was - and he roared in pain.

Fenrir staggered, and three trolls were on him, trying to pin his arms, 
and firing off charge after charge from their weapons. As the fourth 
troll, still punch drunk, staggered towards the fray, Jack stood up, and 
called out: "Hey, ugly!" Not his finest insult, but it did the trick.

The troll looked at Jack. Jack looked at the troll. Then he shot it dead.

The other trolls looked up at the bark of the submachine gun, and Fenrir 
took advantage of the distraction to grab one of his attackers by the 
wrist, and thrust its cudgel hard into the face of a second troll. The 
energy blast arced through the troll, throwing it back, and it toppled 
away from the maul even as the third warrior struck another painful blow 
to Fenrir's wounded side.

In a moment of horrifying clarity, Jack saw the path of the brute's fall, 
and knew that its considerable weight was about to crash down on the 
prone and helpless form of Roskva. Without stopping to think, Jack darted 
forward, and seized the girl by the arms. The troll's shadow fell over 
them both like a cloud, but, fuelled by pure adrenaline, Jack hauled the 
child away, back-pedalling furiously to get them both clear.

The huge body missed Jack's foot by less than an inch, but his relief was 
interrupted as a white-hot pain shot through him. He tried to turn, but 
found himself unable to do anything but fall flat on his back, Roskva 
still clutched to his chest. A troll loomed over them, cudgel raised, but 
just as Jack thought his time had come, the troll seemed to be distracted 
by something behind it.

Then huge arms wrapped around the creature, and twisted its head until 
its thick neck snapped with a sickening crack. Jack wished he could have 
covered Roskva's ears, to keep the child from hearing that sound.

The troll collapsed, leaving Fenrir standing, bloodied but victorious.

                         *******************

Teal'c swung his staff weapon across, striking a troll to the ground with 
the butt. Sensing another attacker behind him, he gripped the firing 
lever, tucked the tip of the staff under his arm and loosed a single, 
fatal shot. A third troll loomed up, but fell down as a bullet ripped 
through its throat. Teal'c made a mental note to thank Sergeant Fowler 
later, and took a moment to assess the situation.

The fighting was still fierce, as the trolls pressed into the main 
square. Major Parker fought side-by-side with one of the townswomen, 
standing guard over her fallen husband. Parker fired short, controlled 
bursts into the trolls from the cover of the heavy wooden shield that the 
woman carried. One troll tried to jump them as he reloaded, and the woman 
clobbered it in the face with the shield's metal rim.

From the corner of his eye, Teal'c saw Sergeant Thomas backed into a 
corner by a large group of trolls, his weapon hanging empty at his side. 
As Teal'c turned to help, two trolls fell back, bleeding heavily, as the 
Sergeant fired a sabot round from his M79, but the rest closed in. Teal'c 
shot another troll in the back, and a volley of zat blasts struck from 
the right. Then Teal'c was forced to turn as yet another shrieking 
warrior struck at him with its cudgel.

After what seemed an age, the night was split by a savage, ululating cry, 
and the press of trolls retreated. One of the watchtowers sounded a horn 
blast. Teal'c stood warily for a few more moments, then looked about him, 
and surveyed the field of battle.

There were at least three dozen trollish dead, including seven or eight 
around Teal'c himself, and probably many more outside. From the awed 
looks he was drawing, his performance must have greatly impressed the 
folk of Tangrind. There were about as many fallen humans as trolls, and 
the healers were emerging from the Academy now to see to the wounded. 
Most of the combatant townsfolk stood, exhausted from the effort, but a 
small group appeared to have been tasked with finishing off any trolls 
who were wounded but not slain. Major Parker was administering first aid 
to the man he had helped to guard. Teal'c saw a healer ministering to 
Thomas, while two others brought Wayne down from the palisade.

After a time, when the trolls had been checked and the dead and wounded 
gathered in, another horn sounded - three short blasts - and people began 
to emerge from their houses. It looked as though the entire town was 
turning out, and several warriors were going into and out of all of the 
houses. Teal'c realised that they were doing a head count, to see if 
anyone were missing.

"Sergeant Fowler," he said, speaking into his field radio. "Are you 
well?"

"Fine and dandy; thanks for asking," Fowler replied. "How about 
yourself?"

"I am well, thanks in part to you. Captain Wayne and Sergeant Thomas 
however are injured. Major Parker seems well."

"What about Mary?" Fowler asked.

"I am unsure," Teal'c replied. He looked around, but could see no sign of 
the archaeologist. "Are the trolls gone?"

"Long gone," Fowler assured him.

"Then please rejoin us in the village," Teal'c said. "And thank you again 
for your assistance."

Teal'c replaced the radio, and approached Guthwulf to ask after Mary. Not 
knowing the local language, he attempted to convey his meaning with 
gesture and by speaking slowly and clearly. While that might work for 
Daniel Jackson however, it did not seem to be doing the trick for Teal'c. 
Guthwulf recognised 'Mary', but no more than that. Or if he recognised 
more than that, he could not make Teal'c understand that fact.

Remembering the zat blasts that had struck the trolls attacking Thomas, 
Teal'c went into the Academy and tracked down the Sergeant.

Thomas was bleeding from a heavy blow to the temple, and a few tell-tale 
burns revealed that he had also been paralysed. "Mary?" He said. "I 
dunno, Sir. All I know is, she was there, blasting those things off me. 
One of them'd clubbed me down, and then the zat blasts started hitting 
them. I couldn't turn, but I saw her, shooting from behind a house, and 
the trolls just turned and left me; headed right out after her.

"Sorry I ragged on her, now," he added. "Probably saved my life."

Teal'c left Thomas, and went into a large hall where the healers were 
performing the painful task of laying out the dead. Teal'c walked quickly 
through the hall, noting with limited relief that Mary was not among the 
slain. He also saw that the healers were laying out the dead trolls with 
some care. Not so much as they showed towards their slain kin, but more 
than many would show to a fallen enemy.

"Teal'c!" Parker called, hurrying over to the Jaffa. "The natives are 
forming some kind of posse. I'm not sure why, and I can't find Mary to 
translate."

"I believe that they are going after those abducted by the trolls," 
Teal'c replied. "And I believe that one of those taken may be Mary 
Lasuip."

"So, we go with them?" Fowler asked, coming up behind her CO.

"Damn straight!" Parker agreed.

Outside, the horns bared once more, doubtless signalling the hunt. Teal'c 
nodded, slowly. "We do."

                         *******************

"Damn that thing hurts," Jack muttered, as the feeling returned to his 
limbs. "How you doing, Rosie?"

Fenrir conveyed Jack's concern to Roskva, who replied in an 
uncharacteristically shy voice. "She says she is sorry for what she said 
about you, and thanks you for saving her," the Wolf reported. "I thank 
you also. If not for you..."

"If not for us, you wouldn't have a big ol' bullet hole in your gut, and 
you'd have made short work of those clowns. I've never seen anyone fight 
like that."

Fenrir shrugged, modestly. "Such is the power that Hel gave to me. Power 
that she could use to her own ends," he added, bitterly.

Jack did not know what to say, but the dilemma was taken away when the 
sound of the horns carried through the woods to them.

"Mai'tac!" Fenrir swore. 

"What is it?"

"The trolls are retreating from Tangrind with prisoners. I must head them 
off at the Gate. Stay with Roskva," he added. "Keep her safe." Then he 
was away, bounding through the trees as though he had not just taken a 
heavy beating from three giant aliens.

"Wait...!" Jack sighed, then turned to Roskva. "Take this," he said, 
holding out his zat. "If anyone tries to hurt you, squeeze here..."

The weapon snapped open in Roskva's hand, and Jack barely darted aside as 
a blast of energy whined through the air where he had been standing. The 
girl looked up at Jack, sheepishly.

"That's the idea," he said. "Just keep your head down," he said, 
gesturing. "And we'll be back for you soon."

Roskva seemed to get the idea, crouching under the low branches of a 
tree, gripping the zat tight enough to keep the weapon open, but 
fortunately not to fire it.

"That's good," Jack said, picking up one of the cudgels and testing its 
weight. "Now stay there, and Fenrir and I will be right back to get you." 
He hurried after Fenrir, muttering to himself: "I can't believe I'm 
telling kids to sit tight and wait for the big bad wolf to save the day."

                         *******************

From her undignified position under the arm of a large troll, Mary 
watched the forest bounce past her. She had begun to feel seasick before 
the town had disappeared behind them, and by the time she was set on her 
feet, facing the Stargate and with a trollish hand clapped firmly on each 
shoulder, she was about ready to vomit, both from the movement and from 
the sour, unwashed stench of the trolls. She could not see the other 
prisoners, but she could hear the bleating of the goats that the trolls 
had taken, and the clinking of their other booty. Far away, she could 
also hear the blaring of the town horns.

Were they calling anyone to help her? Or just saying that the trolls had 
gone?

One of the trolls stepped up to the Gate's controls - what was it that 
Jack called it? The DHD? - and began pressing the panels. The Gate 
thundered into life, and in a blast of spray the pool-like surface of the 
wormhole event horizon formed. Mary shivered at the cold beauty of the 
sight in the starlit clearing, and wondered where the portal would take 
her this time; and if she would ever get back. She desperately wished 
that she had taken the advice given to her by Dr Jackson, Jack and 
General Hammond, and just stayed either at the site, or at the SGC.

The lead troll stepped forward, but as it did so, the event horizon 
collapsed. The troll looked around, something approaching fear in its 
eyes, and behind her, Mary heard a fierce howl of fury. She tried to cry 
out in response, but a leathery palm clamped over her mouth, and she was 
hoisted up and hidden beneath a cloak of foetid, uncured hide. She 
thrashed and kicked as best she was able, but the troll seemed not to 
care, simply holding Mary close against its chest. Mary's eyes stung with 
tears, and she prayed for a miracle.

                         *******************

Fenrir shot two arrows, each punching neatly through a troll-skull, 
before drawing his sword and closing with his enemy. He kept his blows 
high and careful, wary of harming the prisoners held in this mass of 
corrupted flesh. His side, his wound, burned with pain, but he pressed 
on. So long as he was near, the Gleipnir kept the Chappa'ai from 
activating, and gave the townsfolk time to catch up to the retreating 
trolls.

Jack came out of the trees to see the massive figure surrounded by 
enemies. Hefting the cudgel - for the same reasons as Fenrir, he was 
unwilling to fire indiscriminately into the pack with his P90 - he let 
off a volley of energy blasts, clearing a space around Fenrir for a few 
moments.

The Wolf looked up. "Prisoners!" He roared. "Twenty-one. Find them!"

Jack nodded an acknowledgement, and scanned the crowd carefully. Two 
trolls tried to rush him, but Fenrir leaped to meet them with steel and 
fury. Spotting a tight knot of the misshapen warriors near to the Gate, 
Jack advanced on them, taking two down with the cudgel. As he got closer, 
one of the trolls caught a paralysing blast on its own weapon, and with a 
flip of its wrist, sent the pulse flying back towards Jack. Almost 
without thinking, Jack imitated the troll's manoeuvre. He felt the cudgel 
vibrate as the energy wrapped around it, then he thrust it away, and the 
troll collapsed alongside its fellows.

The remaining trolls looked at Jack with fear and respect in their 
hooded, malevolent eyes, and the prisoners gazed up in awe.

"It's all in the reflexes," Jack said, modestly, then swung the cudgel 
like a baseball bat, dropping two more trolls in a shower of sparks. 
"Run!" He told the prisoners, and they were not slow to obey. As they 
rose, Jack covered their retreat with the cudgel, and tried to count them 
past. Was that twenty-one? He thought it was, but had little time to 
recount as the trolls pressed him back on the heels of the rescued 
locals.

"You want a piece of me!?" He challenged, belligerently. "Come get some!"

The trolls faltered, and started to back warily away.

Jack felt a swell of pride. "I'm good," he said.

Then one of the trolls seemed to rally, raising his weapon, but a blast 
of energy burned a smoking hole through his throat, and the forest behind 
Jack erupted with gunfire.

"Yes!" Jack yelled. "Fenrir! I got 'em!"

Locked in battle near to the DHD, Fenrir barely looked up, but the 
distraction allowed one of the largest trolls to score a hit, striking 
the Wolf hard across the temple. Fenrir staggered, and a second blow 
knocked him through the ring of the Stargate and away into the night. 
Three trolls pounded after him, while the leader moved to the DHD.

"Ah, damn," Jack muttered.

Alongside him, the village warriors were streaming from the forests, 
forming a line of shields in front of the trolls.

"Colonel O'Neill," Teal'c said, moving up beside Jack.

"Your timing is excellent, as ever," Jack said.

Teal'c nodded in acknowledgement of the compliment. "Mary Lasuip was 
taken from the town," he added. "Have you seen her?"

Alarmed, Jack gave the rescued prisoners another head count. There were 
twenty, and Mary was not among them. He turned back to the trolls, just 
as the Stargate exploded into life once more.

                         *******************

"Mary!"

//Was that Jack's voice?// Mary wondered. //Do they know I'm here?// She 
redoubled her efforts to break free, although the troll's grip seemed 
unbreakable. The Stargate's light was filtering around the edge of the 
cloak, and Mary knew she must have mere seconds to get free.

Then, her hand closed around the grip of her captor's cudgel, and with a 
burst of adrenaline, she dragged it from its belt, and struck hard at the 
troll's legs.

The troll roared in pain and released Mary. She fell hard, but kept her 
grip on the cudgel, and came to her knees, striking savagely at her 
captor's shins and kneecaps. The troll fell, and Mary felt a moment of 
triumph, before two more took its place.

"Oh, fine...," she muttered, then casting dignity to the winds, she 
hauled back and screamed: "Heeeeelp!"

                         *******************

Jack heard the cry, and saw the two trolls catch Mary by the arms and 
drag her towards the Gate. Fowler's rifle spoke, and one of the trolls 
fell, but the second was already pressing Mary forward into the wormhole.

                         *******************

Mary was twisted around, and saw the shimmering event horizon looming 
before her. She wanted to pray, but after a lifetime of atheism it hardly 
seemed the way to go out. And then she saw it, a shadow behind the event 
horizon. Something moving towards her, so very fast. The troll set a hand 
on her back, and pushed.

                         *******************

"Oh my God!" Fowler gasped.

"What was that?" Parked demanded.

"That," Jack told them. "Was *so* cool."

"It was most impressive," Teal'c allowed. The two marines looked at the 
Jaffa in disbelief.

"That's big emotion from him," Jack assured them.

Parker and Fowler turned back to the Stargate, still not sure if they had 
seen what they thought they saw. What they *thought* they had seen was 
Fenrir - his body covered in blood, stained black in the light of the 
wormhole - leap *out* of the Stargate to snatch Mary from the troll's 
grasp, leaving the brute to lose its arm as the event horizon collapsed.

Desperately, the trolls dialled out for a third time, and this time the 
villagers allowed them to flee.

                         *******************

Mary was feeling a little shaken. She was still not sure what exactly had 
happened; only that Fenrir - who to her knowledge might or might not be a 
bloodthirsty mass-murderer - was crouched over her, whispering in ancient 
Norse. The fact that he was coated in blood was not helping her state of 
mind, but there was something almost hypnotic in his voice, and in his 
golden eyes.

"Are you well, Mary?" Fenrir was asking as she first became aware of what 
he was saying. She had a feeling he might have asked that before.

"I think...Yes. I think."

"You're safe now," he promised her. "Safe always."

"You're..."

"I am fine."

"The blood..."

"Most of it is not mine."

"Your wound," she said. "Let me see it."

"That will not be...Ow!" He bellowed, as Mary pushed a hand into his 
side.

"Let me see."

Reluctantly, Fenrir peeled away the bandage, and Mary winced.

"You are hurt worse than I," he said, touching her forehead. She shied 
away as his fingers gently brushed a gash she had not known was there. "I 
heal very fast; you do not."

"You've got half a dozen of those," she said, spotting them through the 
gore that caked his skin. "We need to get you taken care of."

"No..."

"Ah, for crying out loud!" Jack exclaimed, striding up to them both. "If 
you can walk then walk. If not, carry each other, but we're getting you 
both back to the hospital, now. Capiche?"

                         *******************

Thursday 

Fenrir was not just walking wounded; he was a walking wound. 
Nevertheless, he insisted on the walking part. The healers at the Academy 
swore that they had never seen anyone so badly injured, but he did not 
want to let it slow him down, and made his students show him all of the 
injured. Mary was less badly hurt, but lacked the Wolf's nanocyte-driven 
constitution. Fenrir sat by her after finishing his rounds, and when he 
slept it was only for an hour, and in a chair by her bed.

Only in the morning, when he felt able to declare Mary's condition to be 
improving, would Fenrir consent to turn in properly for a few hours. 
Before he did so, he ate a large meal, and when he emerged at midday, he 
seemed almost completely recovered. He made the rounds again, and then 
sat by Mary for the rest of the day, until she regained consciousness 
around sunset.

                         *******************

Friday

All through Thursday, Jack had been itching to talk to Fenrir, but the 
Wolf was engrossed in his medical duties, and in particular with caring 
for Mary. Finally, on Friday morning, Jack managed to catch Fenrir alone, 
as he was leaving the side of the sleeping student.

"Is that why you wanted to convince us?" Jack asked. "You wanted *her* to 
know that what we said about you wasn't true."

"It is," Fenrir replied, with a fond smile. "I don't think I've ever met 
anyone quite like her. When I first spoke to her, and asked her to defend 
herself and her companions, she managed to side-track us both from the 
subject of your survival - and hers - into a long discussion about my 
hall."

Jack smiled. "I know a guy like that," he said. "I've seen him have this 
effect on women."

"Are you her guardian, Jack O'Neill?" Fenrir asked.

"No," Jack replied. "I'm not. And I need to talk to you about some 
important stuff," he added, quickly. "Without getting side-tracked into 
talking about Mary."

"This relates to my family, does it not?"

"It does.," Jack replied. "Your father has esc...*I* managed to free your 
father from his prison, and now he wants to kill everyone. He's gone to 
look for a super-mothership called 'Naglfar,' in order to do just that. 
The thing is," he explained. "He needs a runestone to do that; a stone he 
broke in three and gave to you and your siblings. We need to know where 
your piece of the..." Jack broke off, disconcerted, as Fenrir began to 
laugh, bitterly.

"'It's just a keepsake'," he said, in a falsetto voice. "'Our mother's 
favourite. It would mean a lot to me to have it; something to remember 
her by'. 'Of course'," he continued, in a caricature of his normal, gruff 
tones. "'Of course you must have it, Hel. I have no need of it'."

"Ah," Jack said.

"Damn her and her lies," Fenrir whispered, his eyes glistening with 
tears. "And damn me for believing. I'm sorry Jack; I would give you the 
stone if I still had it, but I do not."

"No. That's okay," Jack said. "Although you may be getting a lot more 
company on Jelling at this rate. Since no enemy ship can come near, it 
might be about to get real popular."

Fenrir shrugged. "The 'Naglfar' won't be stopped by the Surtur," he told 
Jack. "They defend their realm with great ferocity, but they haven't the 
strength. I wish that I could help you, but I do not have what you want, 
and I can not leave here."

"So what happens now?" Jack asked.

"We would very much like you and your comrades to attend the funeral 
tonight," Fenrir said. "We will light the pyres of the fallen, and make a 
single fire for the trolls who were slain."

"You have a funeral for those things?" Jack asked.

Fenrir nodded. "Come with me."

He took Jack into the hall where the trolls were laid out. Each had a 
cudgel set on its chest, its hands clasped over the hilt. Their armour 
and helms had been straightened and polished.

"In Tangrind, in the time of Gerda's youth, there was a boy named Erik. 
The other children called him blood-beard, because of a birthmark on his 
chin." So saying, he pointed to one of the trolls, which was 
distinguished from the others by a purplish mark on its green chin. "Erik 
was taken by the trolls. Some years later, a girl was taken from Jarnas; 
Rudveig. She had the most beautiful red hair," he added, gently caressing 
the lank, auburn locks of another troll, as one might with a sick child.

"Oh, God," Jack said, feeling nauseous. "Do the people ever go after 
their children?" He asked. "Try to bring them back?"

"Once," Fenrir replied. "None returned. You should be wary when you leave 
us," Fenrir added.

"Wary?"

"I do not fully understand the Chappa'ai," Fenrir said. "But I know that 
the Gate must send the trolls to another world, beyond this star system. 
Yet I also know that the Surtur live in the heavens of this system."

"How do you know that?" Jack asked. "Maybe the trolls aren't sent by that 
race."

Fenrir shook his head. "Each troll has a tattoo; a flaming sword on the 
right shoulder. I have seen this sign in two other places. The first is 
on ruins in the deep forest, where ancient texts tell of the Surtur, and 
the destruction of the native population of this world when they tried to 
reach into the stars where the Surtur dwell. The same icon was also on 
the vessel which destroyed Sedna's mothership. I found the crash site, 
and the mothership's data core. I have no innate knowledge of Goa'uld 
technology," he added. "But I lived among them for centuries, and I am 
not a complete dunce.

"I once believed that the trolls must travel to another world and then 
back in order to return to their ship, but I am no longer sure. The 
ancient texts seem to speak of a force, that drew victims from the 
Chappa'ai to the Land of Fire which the Surtur inhabit. I believe that 
they have some means of intercepting an outgoing wormhole, drawing it to 
a Gate on their vessels. I know that Asgard have visited this planet - I 
have seen relicts of their technology - but that none seem ever to have 
returned to their homes; I believe this is because the Surtur take them 
as they leave. The same would most likely happen to any Goa'uld.

"I fear that they have taken an interest in you and your people. They 
tried to take Mary, even keeping her apart from the other prisoners. I 
fear that they wish to know who you are, and will try to take you as you 
return to your home."

Jack nodded, concerned by this, his soldier's mind running through 
options. "I may have a way to deal with that," he said. "But we'll cross 
that bridge when we come to it."

                         *******************

Jack was still thinking over what Fenrir had said as he wandered down to 
visit Wayne and Thomas. Wayne had a bump on the head from falling, but 
was otherwise unhurt; Thomas was in a far worse state. Their team-mates 
were visiting, so Jack made the occasion an informal briefing.

"There were a whole bunch of them coming for me," Thomas said. "I was 
lucky to get off so lightly. Probably wouldn't have done if not for 
Mary."

"Same with me," Parker agreed. "Not about Mary, but just that they were 
gunning for me in particular."

"Perhaps they have orders to be watchful for strangers?" Teal'c 
suggested.

"Yes," Jack agreed. "Fenrir thinks that's why they singled Mary out from 
the rest of the prisoners as well. Seems pretty clear then that they'll 
try to redirect us on the way home." He thought for a moment. "Major," he 
said. "Who's your ordnance man?"

"That would be Thomas here," Parker replied.

"And tech?"

Fowler raised her hand. "Also communications, Sir."

"Well, Sergeants," Jack said. "I've got a job for you."

                         *******************

"How're you feeling?" Jack asked Mary.

"Like bursting into song," Mary admitted. "Like nothing could ever hurt 
me and the world is full of light and happiness."

"Uh-huh. So you'd be in love?"

"That's not what you were talking about then?" Mary asked. "In that case, 
Sir, I feel fine."

"You don't have to call me Sir," Jack told her. "Jack is fine; or Colonel 
O'Neill to be formal." He grinned. "So when did the love happen?"

Mary shrugged. "Somewhere between knowing I was going to die and knowing 
I wasn't. Probably about when he came barrelling through that event 
horizon."

"That *was* very cool," Jack admitted.

"Will it be alright to stay here?" Mary asked. "Would I be allowed..."

"There'd be complications," Jack admitted. "Such as trying to explain to 
the Canadian ambassador just what it as that we'd done with you."

"I think he wants to talk to you about it," Mary confided. "He's kind of 
old fashioned..."

"He's several thousand years old," Jack noted.

"...and I think he feels he should talk to my father. I said you'd fill 
that role as much as anyone on this planet."

"He didn't feel I'd be a little young for that?"

"No," Mary replied, straightfaced.

Jack smiled, gently. "Anyway; we may have bigger problems on hand. Such 
as the Surtur."

Mary nodded. "You know the town elders want to negotiate for weapons like 
ours?"

"That's usually a bad sign," Jack told her.

"Fenrir was going to speak to them about it, I think."

"To say what?"

"I don't know," Mary admitted.

"To say I think it's a bad idea," Fenrir said.

Jack started; he hated it when people crept up on him. "Don't do that," 
he said.

"I'm sorry, Jack," Fenrir said.

"Why don't you want your people to have weapons?" Jack asked him, as the 
giant settled on the other side of the bed.

Fenrir reached out and took Mary's hand, and the two of them 
unselfconsciously threaded their fingers together. "I want them to be 
able to protect themselves," Fenrir told Jack. "But I don't want them to 
become dependent on something supplied by outsiders."

Jack nodded his understanding. "Still. We could do business. We're always 
looking to trade for naquadah; or access to a naquadah source."

"Your people value naquadah?" Fenrir asked.

"We do," Jack agreed.

"Ah. Good. Then perhaps I do have something to offer Mary's father as a 
dowry. I was worried."

Mary smiled indulgently at the big man. "Isn't he sweet," she said.

"Ah. Yeah," Jack agreed. "Look. We won't leave any weapons behind, but 
we'd like to send engineers to look at the mines, and to negotiate for 
naquadah. If your people want weapons in exchange..."

"I know," Fenrir said. "Although I still think it is dangerous for your 
to come here. The Surtur do not take kindly to our limited presence, and 
they have greater power than they have yet show to us; of that I am 
sure." He took a zat'nik'tel from under his cloak. "Thank you for not 
leaving Roskva defenceless," he said.

"You're welcome," Jack assured him. "How's she doing?"

"Oh; right as rain," Fenrir said. "As though nothing had happened. She's 
resilient."

Jack smiled. "I'm glad to hear it; she 's a great kid. Now, I think I 
know a way to get us home," he said. "And it should do for keeping our 
ambassadors and engineers out of Surtur hands.

                         *******************

Sunday

The Stargate boiled into life as Fowler pressed down on the centre of the 
DHD. Jack waited for the event horizon to settle before speaking into his 
radio.

"Sierra Golf Charlie, this is Sierra Golf One...I mean Five," he 
corrected. "Come in please."

The radio hissed static.

"SGC, this is SG-5; Colonel Jack O'Neill speaking. Do you read." When 
there was still no response, he turned to the two Marine Sergeants. 
"Everything working?" He asked.

"Uh-huh," Fowler replied, working on her laptop. "Picture coming in 
clear. Say hi, Thomas."

"Hi, Thomas," Sergeant Thomas said, waving into the UAV's camera. "The 
Manchurian is good to go."

'The Manchurian' was the name Thomas had given to the scavenged UAV, with 
its wings stripped off and a set of makeshift wheels bolted to its body. 
It did not look pretty, but it should work.

"Okay," Jack said. "Send him through."

With a shove, Wayne propelled The Manchurian up the ramp, and it rolled 
drunkenly into the event horizon. Jack walked over to Fowler, and looked 
at the image on her laptop. It blurred and snapped into static as the 
jury-rigged probe passed through the wormhole in its component molecules, 
then juddered back into focus as it reintegrated.

"That's not the Gateroom," Fowler said.

"Not our Gateroom," Jack agreed, looking at the reddish, vaguely organic 
walls. "And look..."

"Trolls." One of the great, shambling figures stooped towards the camera.

"Sergeant Thomas," Jack ordered.

"Transmitting universal peace and hello on all frequencies, Sir," the 
Sergeant confirmed, stabbing his finger down on the red button in the 
middle of a remote.

The picture vanished.

"Will that have done the trick?" Jack asked Thomas.

The Sergeant shrugged. "Standard det-pack, plus around three kilos of 
unrefined naquadah. It's no Goa'uld Buster." The Gate closed behind him. 
"But it's gonna hurt."

"Dial us home again, Fowler," Jack instructed.

"Let's hope this one works," Parker said. "We're all out of UAV parts."

"SGC this is SG-5. Come in please."

"SG-5, this is SGC," Hammond's voice replied. "What is your status?"

"We're coming home," Jack said, signalling for Parker to transmit the 
team's IDC. "And boy, do we have a story to tell you." He signed off. 
"Hey, Mary," he called back. "Put that Harcesis down and shake a leg 
there."

                         *******************

SG-5 emerged from the wormhole into the SGC Gateroom. As the Iris closed 
behind them, Jack looked at it, thoughtfully.

"Whatcha thinking?" Mary asked him.

"That even if Fenrir talks them out of wanting weapons; we might have 
something better to offer."

"Welcome back Colonel," General Hammond greeted them. "I see you've once 
more failed to bring back a combat team in the condition you found it."

"That's a funny story," Jack said.

"What's in the box?" Hammond asked, gesturing to a large container which 
Parker and Teal'c were lugging between them.

"Unrefined naquadah," Teal'c said. "A Gift from Mary Lasuip's betrothed."

General Hammond looked perturbed by this statement, but before he could 
say anything, he was interrupted.

"Hi, Jack."

"Hi, Dan..." Jack did a double-take. "Daniel, you're..."

"Swathed in bandages?"

"Yeah."

"Hel stole my skin; there was a thing."

"Oh."

"Did you find Fenrir?" Daniel asked.

"Yep. Found Fenrir," Jack confirmed.

"Did you kill him and take his runestone?"

Jack coughed, awkwardly. "Not exactly. See above, re Mary's new fiancé. 
You got Hel's runestone?" He asked, rather than stop to explain.

"Yep."

"Any others?"

"No. Why?"

"Fenrir gave his to Hel. She said it had sentimental value."

"Damn!" Daniel swore. "Probably not the best time to tell you that we 
lost Hel's again."

"Damn!" Jack agreed. "Any word from Sam yet?"

"No," Daniel replied. "We just need to hope that she can get 
Jormungandr's stone, or it's all over. Either way, there goes any chance 
of trading one of the stones for Annie. It's going to be pretty pointless 
buying her out, just to get killed when the planet goes boom."

"I am certain that Major Carter will be successful," Teal'c said.

"And we'll get Annie back," Jack promised Daniel. "Whatever happens."

"He's got more hostages as well," Daniel said. "But we'll tell you about 
that in debriefing."

Jack sighed. "We'll deal," he promised. "We really will. But since we 
can't do much until Sam gets back, I need to take a shower, then discuss 
some things with the General like mineral surveys, naquadah treaties and 
dowries. Then you can tell us what you've been up to, and we'll see where 
we can go from there."

"Dowries," Daniel said, in amazement. "How is it I get skinned alive, and 
you *still* have weirder stories than me?"

                         *******************

The World Serpent
By The Prophet - prophet@phlegethon.org


RATING: PG-13

WARNINGS: Violence, Goa'uld incest, rape

CATEGORY: Action/adventure

PAIRING: Sam/other

SPOILERS: Spoilers for Children of the Gods, The Nox, Enigma, Forever in 
a Day, Shades of Grey, Rite of Passage

TIME FRAME: Season 5

SUMMARY: Sam hunts the formidable Jormungandr on an ancient Asgard prison 
world, and sees a new side of Earth's most valued allies. Meanwhile, Loki 
dispatches an agent to infiltrate the SGC complex. 

DISCLAIMER: Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate 
(II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and 
Gekko Productions. This story is written purely for my own entertainment, 
and that of anyone else who may happen to read it. No infringement of 
copyright is intended. It is not intended and should never be used for 
commercial purposes.

The original characters, situations and ideas contained within this work 
are the property of the author 

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the fourth part of an epic fan fiction, 
Æsirhættir, begun in Tears of a Clown, Hel's Teeth and Wolf's Head, and 
concluded in Ragnarok.

A Lagrange point is a point in space-time for which the net acceleration 
due to gravitational forces acting on a body at that point is zero.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS: Once more, I owe a debt of thanks to my beta-reader, 
Sho.

The Prophet, 22nd May 2002

                         *******************

The World Serpent 

Tuesday 

Sam had been on board the 'Stupid Idea' for almost five hours, and she 
was beginning to get antsy. She was not an impatient woman by nature, but 
she liked to be moving forward instead of just sitting around. She was 
also feeling isolated and, without the rest of her team to talk to, the 
time seemed to drag more than it usually would. She wondered if Teal'c 
and the Colonel would be passing through the Stargate soon; or if Daniel 
had been successful in unravelling the mysteries of Hel's tomb. 

She paced up and down for a while, then went to watch the carrier's 
pilots in training. Thor had explained that the gallery over the training 
rooms was intended to appeal to the human liking for a certain 'James 
Bond' aesthetic, and there was something almost relaxing about watching 
the crew - all of whom Sam knew to have died from their old lives - 
practice. 

"Penny for your thoughts?" 

Sam turned, and saw a young man standing behind her. He had an earnest 
look and a pleasant face, which was familiar to Sam although she could 
not quite place it. 

"Newman," he introduced himself, holding out a hand. "Chris." 

"Carter. Sam," she replied, taking his hand. "Is that Major Newman?" 

"Used to be," he admitted. "Before I died. Well; actually before I was 
convicted of treason and discharged to await execution." 

Sam nodded. She had heard something of Newman's story from Colonel 
O'Neill, who judged him to be less of a waste of time than his record 
might suggest. "So, how can I help you, former Major Newman?" 

"I was wondering the opposite," Newman said. "You look strung out. 
Thought maybe I could show you around; take your mind off things a little 
until we catch up with Muspel." 

"Sounds good," Sam admitted. "I gotta say; I find the idea of trying to 
'catch up' with a prison rather strange." 

"Well, it's a rather strange prison," Newman replied, motioning for her 
to accompany him out of the gallery. 

"They're very good," Sam commented, indicating the pilots. 

"Best of the best of the best," Newman assured her. "Well; best of the 
best of the best who weren't quite good enough not to die." 

                         *******************

"I know a lot about you," Newman admitted, stopping in front of a door. 
"About all of SG-1 in fact; at least up to two years ago." 

"Required reading in NID?" Sam asked. 

"Just my branch," he assured her. "But that's how I know you should like 
this room." 

"What is it?" 

"The observatory," Newman replied. 

The door slid open, revealing a dark space behind. Stepping through, Sam 
could make out dim blue light, and as the door closed behind them, she 
realised that the light came from a glowing mist in front of them. 

"What kind of observatory is this?" Sam asked. 

Newman tapped the side of his nose, secretively. "Come on; you'll see." 
So saying, he stepped forward, and vanished into the mist. 

Sam followed. The glowing mist passed over her - it almost felt like it 
passed *through* her - and with a suddenness that took her breath away, 
there was no floor beneath her feet. 

Sam cried out and stumbled, but hands gripped her arms and steadied her. 
"Close your eyes," Newman told her. "Take a deep breath, and feel the 
floor. Get your balance, then open your eyes again." 

Sam did as he said, and sure enough the floor seemed solid enough. Then 
she opened her eyes, and felt a wave of vertigo pass over her. She could 
still *feel* the floor; she just could not *see* it at all. 

"You okay?" A woman asked. Sam looked to her left, and saw Newman, then 
to her right, where a blonde woman was holding her other arm. Sam 
recognised her as Hnoss, Freyja's daughter. 

"Yes, thank you Hnoss." 

"Just relax," the woman told her. "You're perfectly safe." 

Sam struggled to do so, and risked another look around. In an instant, 
the vertigo and disorientation were gone, swept away by a wave of almost 
childlike wonder. "It's awesome," she whispered, and for once even she 
was so blown away by the spectacle of what she was seeing that she spared 
not a thought for how it might be done. 

Sam stepped forward, no longer caring that she seemed to be standing on 
nothing more substantial than hard vacuum. She turned on the spot, and 
saw, all around her, an infinite vista of stars and nebulae; galaxies and 
comets. "Is it accurate?" She asked. 

"Completely," Hnoss assured her." Or as completely as it's possible to 
be. Obviously, if the Asgard could map the cosmos in an instant, we 
wouldn't need to track Muspel." 

"Where's Earth?" She asked. 

"Earth? Is...there," Hnoss said, pointing to a small, swirling spiral 
that Sam figured must be the Milky Way. "At the moment we're 'in' Ida. 
Hang on; I'll switch the view." 

Hnoss moved her hand in a series of exaggerated gestures. Sam felt a 
moment of dizziness, as the stars swirled around her, and Earth's Galaxy 
rushed towards them. Then they were among familiar constellations, with 
Earth hanging massive and blue before them. "Whoa!" Sam gasped, awed. 

"I knew you'd like it," Newman said. 

"Show me more?" Sam asked. "Please?" 

                         *******************

"Is there any progress?" Thor asked. 

Freyja shook her head. "None to speak of," she said. "But we shall find 
Muspel soon. We built it to be hard to find; but not impossible. Even 
without the beacon, we have a rough idea of the comet's trajectory. It is 
only a matter of time." 

"Time is the one thing that we do not have," Thor told his comrade. 

"Time is the one thing that we cannot control," Freyja replied. "When was 
the last time you rested?" 

"It is unimportant," Thor assured her. "I do not require much rest." 

Freyja tactfully let the matter slide. "What do you plan to do when we 
capture Loki?" She asked. 

"We will return him to captivity," Thor told her. 

"Is it wise to let him live?" 

"Wise or not," Thor replied. "Loki is protected still by Odin's 
injunction. No Asgard may strike a blow against him or his children, on 
pain of denial." 

"Would he really do it?" Freyja asked. "What could it achieve now to 
allow one of our own to go into the final winter?" 

Thor looked scandalised, his eyes widening a fraction of an inch, at what 
Freyja seemed to be saying. "I know that you do not see eye to eye with 
Odin," he said. "But he is still the leader of the Council, and the 
oldest and wisest among us." 

"He is the oldest," Freyja agreed. "For what little that means among us 
now. I hold that Loki is too grave a threat to allow him to exist. Even 
denied his key, he has the means and the desire to recreate 'Naglfar.' 
Such a being should not be allowed to live, and yet should still not be 
subjected to the torment you gave to him." 

"You think he did not deserve such a fate?" Thor demanded. 

"I think that he deserved it, and more," Freyja corrected him. "But I 
think that it was unworthy of you to deliver it upon him." 

Thor refused to meet her searching eyes. "It is of no consequence what we 
do with him if we can not find him and his," he said. 

"And we shall find him, in time. Until then, you should rest, Thor." 

"I will rest when it is done." 

"Rest now," Freyja said. "You will need your strength." 

Thor subject Freyja to a long, hard stare. "None know me as you do," he 
said at last. 

"I am right then. You intend to fight him?" 

"I believe it may be necessary." 

"You should not do this, Thor," Freyja said. "He almost defeated you 
once, and your body is not what it was then. Do not let pride blind you 
to that." 

"It is not pride..." 

"None know you as I do," she reminded him. "Thus few fear for you as 
much." 

                         *******************

Dinner for the pilots was followed by dancing, after which Hnoss and 
Newman took Sam to a quiet grove beside a brook, where they sat and 
looked at the stars. 

"Is this all the same technology as the Observatory?" Sam asked. 

"This is mostly much simpler," Hnoss replied. "A great biosphere 
contained within the body of the ship. Days and nights and seasons are 
simulated by the projectors in the roof, which emit a light roughly 
equivalent to G-type sunlight. The plants and animals are real; there's 
about seventy feet of soil beneath us, including rock structures. An 
entire, simulated environment." 

"It's incredible," Sam breathed. 

"Just wait," Newman promised. "Freyja reckons we'll find the Muspel 
sometime tomorrow, but in the meantime we can show you the Thunder 
Steeds." 

"The fighters?" Sam asked. 

"No," Hnoss replied. "The real deal. Then we can show you how to use a 
few bits and bobs you might find handy on the surface of Muspel." 

"Sounds great. Although I'm not sure anything's going to match riding a 
comet," Sam admitted. 

                         *******************

Wednesday 

Sam had seen and done some pretty incredible things in her time with SG-
1, but nothing that could have prepared her for riding on the back of a 
flying horse. She clung to Hnoss' waist as Freyja's daughter guided and 
coaxed Grimtep - a slate-grey Thunder Steed - around the sky of the 
biosphere. Sam could feel her hair standing on end as the magnificent 
animal built up an electrical charge in its wings, before sending a 
flickering blast of electricity into Newman's mount. 

Defeated, Newman stooped towards the ground, with Hnoss following. 

"Doesn't it hurt them?" Sam yelled in Hnoss' ear. 

"No. It's not a big charge, and they're not earthed. The current is low 
enough that it's only a sting." 

The two Steeds landed side by side. Newman slid down, and helped Sam to 
the ground, then Hnoss dropped down beside them. 

"What do you think now?" Hnoss asked. "How does riding a comet compare?" 

"Close," Sam said. "But no cigar. I'm amazed you have any time for 
training." 

"That *was* training," Newman assured her. 

"And I was studying in the observatory when you came in," Hnoss added. 

"Three hundred and ninety-three and she's still in school," Newman 
mocked, affectionately. 

"There still plenty to learn," Hnoss replied. "Speaking of which; let's 
get these beauties back to the eerie, and we'll show you something 
entirely practical." 

Newman smiled. "Well...almost entirely." 

"So, do you ever leave the ship?" Sam asked, following as Hnoss and 
Newman led their steeds back towards the eerie; an airy cavern on a high, 
rocky promontory, where several dozen of Freyja's creations were stabled. 

"We fly out," Newman said. "And we go on surface missions from time to 
time. The Asgard have also started using us for covert observation of 
protected planets." 

"For the most part though," Hnoss said. "This is home. As much as it's 
nice to have a change of scene from time to time, we're always glad to 
get back." 

"It's a lot like the Air Force, really," Newman said. "We pretty much 
live and train 'on base', and we have more or less everything we need 
here." 

"I'm not sure what base you trained on..." Sam laughed, patting Grimtep's 
flank. "I wish we had half the facilities you have here, at the SGC." 

"Don't knock it, Carter," Newman said. "You should've seen the offworld 
facilities we were working out of with the NID. On that last planet we 
had so little clean water that we needed a rota to say whose turn it was 
to wash their hair in the sink. We had to go offworld to scrounge for 
food because nothing grew on that planet. Did you ever send anyone to 
investigate that place?" 

"I don't think so," Sam replied. "Why?" 

"Just curious," Newman admitted. "There were structures, but no life; not 
a cockroach or a scrap of grass. As you can imagine though, we weren't 
provided with any personnel for cultural analysis. It wasn't a priority 
with our outfit. I always wondered what happened to the folks who lived 
there way back when." 

"I'll try and let you know; if we ever find out," Sam promised. 

"Thanks." 

"So, what is life like at the SGC, Sam?" Hnoss asked. "It looked very 
gloomy; the short time I was there." 

"Well, the Gateroom is about a mile underground," Sam told her. "But we 
don't spend all our time in the base. Well," she admitted. "Some of us 
don't. I spend more than most; at the labs, catching up on my research. 
Sometimes I wish there were two of me, so I could go on field assignment 
and still stay back and investigate all the things we find." 

Hnoss smiled. "And what do you do when you're not working?" 

"I visit my brother when I can. I read and listen to music, and I...do 
work I've brought home from the SGC," she admitted. "I'm kind of a 
workaholic." 

"And what about Jack?" Hnoss asked. "What does he do?" 

"When he's not working?" Sam asked. "He fishes. Or something he likes to 
call fishing. He also likes astronomy, and opera, and he cooks; although 
often not well. Mostly though he just gets the hell out of town." 

"He doesn't like the town?" 

Sam laughed. "I mean he gets as far from the Mountain as he can. He's 
kind of the opposite of me. Not that he does a sloppy job," she added. 
"He sees everything he starts through to the end, but when he's not 
working he likes to get away somewhere quiet, and leave everything else 
behind him." 

"Sounds nice," Hnoss said. 

"Why do you ask?" Sam asked, slyly. 

"No reason," Hnoss replied, a little too quickly. "Why?" She asked, 
suddenly concerned. "You're not...?" 

"No!" Sam insisted, sharply. "I mean, not...Isn't he a little old for 
you?" She asked, changing the subject. 

"He asked that," Hnoss said, laughing brightly. 

"And?" 

"I told him I was three hundred and ninety-two." 

Sam was a little taken aback. "And are you?" 

"No," Hnoss replied. "That was last year; I'm three hundred and ninety-
three." 

"Plus," Newman added. "That's in terms of her homeworld's years, which 
are about fifteen of our months long." 

Making her nearer five hundred, Sam realised. "You...you look good for 
it," she admitted, somewhat enviously. 

                         *******************

"Is there further progress?" 

Freyja turned to face Thor. "Not since you last asked. I thought I told 
you to rest," she said. 

"You did. I have rested." 

Freyja looked disapproving, but let the matter slide. "We have not yet 
found Muspel, but we shall do." 

"What if we can not find it?" 

"If we can not, then Loki will have as little chance, or less. The 
'Biliskner' made contact with the rescue ship; it is the 'Kalliste.' You 
know that the 'Stupid Idea' possesses far superior sensor equipment to 
any that Loki might have access to. If we can not find Muspel, neither 
can the 'Kalliste,' nor the 'Utgard,' nor, for certain, any Goa'uld 
mothership." 

"We can not rely on that," Thor warned her. 

"Which is why we will not," Freyja replied. "We will find the prison, 
extract the Serpent and we shall learn where his runestone is hidden." 

"I do not think it will be so easy," Thor told her. 

"You always were a doomsayer," Freyja replied. "But you are right of 
course. That is why I worry for you." 

"I will be well," Thor assured her. 

"Will you, I wonder?" Freyja said, gazing intently at Thor. "I have 
rarely seen you so affected, old friend. I know that from which your 
enmity towards Loki stems, but I sense that there is something more 
recent at play?" 

"Are the crimes that he committed in the past, and those he will surely 
commit in the future not sufficient?" Thor asked, evasively. 

"Of course. But I still think that you are hiding something from me, and 
it causes me to feel concern for you." 

"There is no cause for concern," Thor assured her. "We shall prevail over 
this threat." 

"Your blind optimism is not very convincing," Freyja observed. "I think I 
prefer the earnest doomsaying. Are you so certain that you are up to this 
challenge?" 

Thor gave Freyja another hard stare. "You question my ability?" He asked. 
"I assure you I have lost none of my skill." 

"Really? Why don't we find out," she offered. 

                         *******************

Hnoss and Newman took Sam to one of the training rooms, where pilots were 
practising at a firing range, using some manner of energy weapon. Newman 
led Sam to the range, and took up a heavy arm-cuff. 

"This," he told her. "Is an Asgard combat gauntlet. It's a multi-function 
combat accessory, with both offensive and defensive modes, fuelled by the 
wearer's own amplified bio-energy." 

"Like a Goa'uld hand device?" Sam asked. 

"Sort of," Hnoss replied. "But the gauntlet is more focused and 
efficient. Like a hand device, it requires a means of coupling the weapon 
to the bio-energy field of the user. We were all implanted with a 
specific type of nanocyte to serve that function when we began advanced 
weapons training, but the naquadah in your bloodstream should serve the 
same purpose. It will however be a less controlled connection, so you 
must be wary of applying too much force." 

Newman indicated a scaled register on the device. "This meter here 
measures your bio-energy levels. If it turns yellow, then you're 
beginning to deplete your reserves. If it gets into the red, you're in 
serious trouble, but you'll probably already know that from all the 
passing out you'll be doing." 

Hnoss then pointed to a small panel. "This is a training caution. If it 
flashes red, then you're putting too much energy into the device, and 
you're in danger of burning yourself out." 

"Here. Watch," Newman suggested. He snapped the gauntlet closed around 
his left forearm, and the meter lit up green. He trained his arm at the 
end of the range, and focused. 

"What..." Sam began, before a flare of green light flashed from the 
gauntlet, striking the target at the end of the range. The dummy rocked 
under the impact, a faint burn-mark marring its metal surface. He held up 
the gauntlet, so that Sam could see that the meter was barely changed. 

"You want to try?" Hnoss invited. 

"Okay," Sam said. 

Hnoss snapped one of the gauntlets onto Sam's arm. "If you've used a 
ribbon device, the method is more or less the same. It's all a question 
of focusing your psychic energy through emotional control. Don't worry if 
you're not as accurate as Newman; the nanocytes are designed to help with 
gauntlet targeting." 

Newman smiled. "Just relax," he advised. "Focus your mind on the target 
and...Dear God!" 

A brilliant, blue-white flash shot from the end of the gauntlet, 
pulverising the target dummy. Shards of metal scattered across the end of 
the range. 

"Wow!" Sam exclaimed, her head spinning; heart pounding. "Can I try 
again?" 

"Um..." Hnoss tapped the side of the gauntlet, and Sam looked down. The 
training caution was flashing red, and the meter had jumped down by a two 
thirds. "A couple more of those and you'd be in the infirmary. 

"Still," Newman added. "You can see why I said this was only mostly 
practical." 

"Oh, yeah," Sam gasped, still reeling from the tremendous high of firing 
the gauntlet. 

"First thing to get over when you're training with these things is the 
thrill," Newman said. "It's not good to get hooked on it, or you end up 
burning yourself out." 

"How do you not?" Sam asked. Newman reached out and steadied her as she 
swayed on her feet. She felt drained and light-headed, as though 
suffering from oxygen deprivation, or extreme fatigue, but it was not an 
unpleasant sensation. 

"Practice," Newman replied. "The buzz goes down each time - especially if 
you don't crank out that kind of power - so you pretty much wean yourself 
off it." 

"Usually we try to keep the level down to heavy stun or below," Hnoss 
added, unlocking the gauntlet. "I can get Gersemi - my sister; she's the 
technical one - to fit a limiter of some kind to compensate for you not 
having the nanocytes. Then we can have another go and see...What?" She 
asked, as Sam and Newman both looked past her, to where the pilots were 
filing out of the range in almost unseemly haste. 

"What's going on?" Hnoss asked, as a young man ran up to the firing 
range. 

"Freyja's going to fight with Thor!" The boy exclaimed. 

                         *******************

The 'Stupid Idea's' pilots swarmed toward the observation gallery, but 
Hnoss tugged on Sam and Newman's arms. "This way," she said, leading them 
to a small door at the back of the training room. 

"What's this way?" Sam asked. 

"Being Freyja's daughter gets me a few perks," Hnoss replied. "Including 
access to the private areas of the ship." 

Beyond the door was a narrow stair, which led up to a small gallery, 
where a gaggle of young women stood around a large bay window. These - 
Sam surmised - must be Freyja's daughters. There were eleven of them - 
twelve including Hnoss - some Slavic, others Nordic or Balkan, showing a 
marked racial variety, although less so than the pilots. Sam knew from 
the Colonel that each of these 'daughters' had died at birth or soon 
after, and been taken at the behest of her mother to be Freyja's 
handmaiden.

It was impossible for Sam to say which of the girls might be the elder, 
as all looked between twenty and thirty years old, but by her actions it 
was obvious that Freyja was oldest. The blonde woman pushed her way past 
her sisters, drawing Sam by the hand to the window. Sam saw that they 
were opposite the main viewing gallery, overlooking over a training room, 
where Thor and Freyja were in the middle of a fierce battle. 

Sam's jaw dropped. If anyone had asked her this morning what would happen 
if an Asgard got into a fist fight, she would have said that - if they 
could find no way to avoid it - the Asgard would be clobbered. Watching 
these two veterans go at it however, she realised that their usual slow, 
sedate movements, and the apparent vulnerability of their spindly forms 
were greatly misleading. 

Thor moved like a striking snake, shifting position so fast that Sam had 
trouble following the motions. He pressed the attack against Freyja with 
fierce determination, and a violence of which Sam would not have thought 
an Asgard capable. Freyja was slower, or rather she seemed slower. Her 
movements were deliberate, sweeping and graceful, but despite this she 
dodged or blocked every attack that Thor launched against her. The combat 
was clearly being conducted seriously, but the two were so finely 
matched, so perfectly attuned to each other's technique that it almost 
looked like a dance. 

"Holy Hannah!" Sam whispered. "I never thought..." 

"It's not something they do often," Newman said, standing at her 
shoulder. "They're not really fond of violence, although in some cases - 
Thor and Freyja included - they are very, very good at it." 

"I'll say. I doubt we've got anyone at the SGC who could beat either of 
them." 

"They have had millennia to perfect their skills," Hnoss pointed out. 
"You're probably much better than either of them was at your age." 

The watching daughters gasped as Thor launched a snap kick at Freyja's 
head, which she barely avoided. She tucked and rolled, and sprang over 
Thor's head as he chased. 

"Every now and then, Freyja comes down to help train the pilots," Newman 
said. "No-one's ever come close to beating her." 

Briefly, Freyja went on the attack, with a flurry of kicks and punches, 
but the Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet plainly had not reached 
that position for looks alone, and the 'Stupid Idea's' captain was soon 
forced to back off before a renewed assault. The two fought hard for more 
than twenty-five minutes, before Freyja finally missed a trick. Her error 
was slight - so much so that Sam could not in all honesty say what it was 
- but it allowed Thor to stagger her with a quick strike to the shoulder, 
then sweep her legs from under her. 

A great sigh of disappointment went up from Freyja's daughters, as Thor 
helped Freyja back to her feet. 

"That was incredible," Sam said, redundantly. 

                         *******************

"At least I know that you will have to rest now," Freyja said, as they 
left the training room, hiding their fatigue from the watching pilots as 
best they could. The match had been close fought, and both combatants 
were all but spent. 

"Do you still believe that I can not complete this task?" Thor asked. 

"I can not deny that you have not lost your touch, old friend," Freyja 
returned. "I merely question whether that will be enough. Your energy is 
unfocused, and you will need all of it to defeat the Serpent." 

"I assure you that I am perfectly focused," Thor replied. "I know what is 
at stake, and what my role must be." 

"I wonder," Freyja said. "Is there something that you are concealing?" 
She asked again. "From myself, and the High Council?" 

"There is not," Thor assured her. 

"You are a mighty warrior Thor, and you have a fine mind. But you are a 
terrible liar. Has Odin charged you with another of his secret 
assignments?" Freyja demanded. "He should not do so; it is unfair to ask 
you to conceal your deeds from the Council." 

"Odin has asked nothing of me," Thor assured her. 

"Then it is something else. Perhaps to do with the woman who was taken?" 

"It is not." 

Freyja nodded in understanding. "I did not know that we had any 
worshippers left on Earth," Freyja said. Thor refused to meet her gaze. 
"Loki is up to his old methods again; trying to throw you off by making 
you angry. He is succeeding," she added. 

"She is one human," Thor insisted. "I am sorry that I can do nothing to 
help her, but I will sacrifice her if I must to prevent Loki unlocking 
the 'Naglfar.'" 

Freyja nodded, sadly. "Once, you would never have considered that." 

"Once, I was young, and judged only for myself," Thor replied. "Now I am 
old, and I must consider the future of our race." 

"Is she connected to your work?" Freyja asked, shrewdly. 

There was a long pause, before Thor replied: "She is." 

"Do you think that he knew that?" 

"Perhaps. I hope not. If he were to discover our final secret, then our 
race would truly be doomed." 

Freyja touched Thor lightly on the shoulder, and pressed her face lightly 
against his, in a gesture of support and comfort. "Do not despair, old 
friend," she said. "Where there is life, there is hope. While there is 
strength in my limbs, the woman shall not be abandoned." 

"Freyja," Thor said, softly. He looked into Freyja's black eyes, and saw 
the depth of compassion there; a compassion he was no longer able to 
reflect. "How do you manage to stay so young?" 

                         *******************

"So tell me about the Asgard?" Sam said. 

"What about them?" Newman asked. 

"What are they like? To work with; to be around. The only one I know is 
Thor, and it's not as if we ever just hang out." 

"They're...odd," Newman replied. 

Hnoss nodded. "I am used to mother, of course," she added. "But other 
Asgard seem strange to me. They profess to care about all peoples, but I 
do not *feel* it of them." 

"How do you mean?" Sam asked, concerned. 

"Not that they are malevolent," Hnoss assured her. "Just that...sometimes 
- often - they seem to act more from curiosity and boredom than from 
compassion. They protect a world to see what the inhabitants will do, as 
much as because it is right. It is..." She paused, thoughtfully. "I am 
certain that long ago the Asgard espoused a true and genuine altruism in 
their dealings with all those who did not seek to harm them, and that 
they explored the galaxies in the hope of expanding and perfecting their 
knowledge." 

"But...?" 

"Have you ever met a race called the Nox?" Hnoss asked. 

"Yes," Sam replied, fondly. 

"Their race is as ancient as the Asgard," she said. "And some of them are 
as old and powerful as Thor or my mother, but they are very different, 
are they not?" 

"They are," Sam agreed. "The Nox seem more..." 

"Alive?" Hnoss suggested. 

"Yes," Sam agreed. "I suppose they do. More vital somehow."

"Somewhere, that is what the Asgard have lost. It shows in their living 
energy; they have far less than a human. They rarely fight as you saw 
them today, because it expends almost all of their reserves; similarly, 
they can make little use of the combat gauntlet before draining 
themselves completely. It is less marked in my mother - perhaps because 
she spends so much time around humans - but it seems as though they have 
lost their *interest* in life itself. They live for other things now: 
duty, knowledge, the greater good; but they are almost incapable of 
living simply for the pleasure of existing." She sighed. "It is sad. 

"I think that now they keep to their old ways - to learn, to teach; to 
aid others - only from habit, and because it prevents them stagnating 
completely. I think the Replicators might have been very good for them, 
at least culturally. To have such a conundrum - such a challenge - face 
them made them grow and adapt for the first time in millennia. 

"Not wishing them any ill," she concluded, sadly. "But I think that what 
the Asgard really need is a serious threat of imminent extinction to stop 
them dying by inches." 

"So you're saying that they only help us because...what? It's what 
they've always done?" 

"And because it's the right thing to do," Hnoss added. "I'm just not sure 
that they understand anymore, on an emotional level, *why* it's the right 
thing to do." 

"Like Thor didn't know how to comfort Mary when she was afraid," Sam 
realised. 

Hnoss just nodded. 

"Strange, strange people," Newman agreed. "But still; I far prefer them 
to the Goa'uld." 

                         *******************

Thursday 

Eris sat on the bridge of her mothership and sulked. 

On the main screen, she watched as flash after flash signalled the 
passage of Jaffa and supplies from her ship, the 'Kalliste,' to the 
'Utgard.' The latter vessel had arrived a few hours ago, and by then Loki 
had already completed his preparations to transfer to his long-dormant 
command ship. Almost twice the size of Eris' sleek, swift mothership, 
Loki had deemed that the 'Utgard' should take on two-thirds of the 
'Kalliste's' crew, selecting several of Eris' finest, favourite and most 
pleasingly muscled Jaffa as part of this number. Why he wanted those 
ones, Eris did not know, as his interests ran purely to the feminine, and 
his shrivelled corpse of a daughter could hardly have any use for them. 
Once the transfer was complete, the 'Utgard' would set out in search of 
Hel's brother, Jormungandr - a nasty, scaly sort as Eris recalled; of all 
the master's children, only Fenrir had ever piqued Eris' interests - 
leaving Eris with the task of recovering the runestone that 'Hel' had 
managed to lose to the Tau'ri. 

For more years now than she could count, Eris had lived on board the 
'Kalliste.' Years that she, trapped, tied by her own impatience, to the 
fragile life of this woman-child form, could never recover. It was her 
palace, her chariot, and her haven. Ever obedient to the last command of 
her mistress, Angrboda, Eris had stayed close to Loki's prison, awaiting 
the day that Hel's machinations would bring someone to free the master 
from his restraining forcefield. For all that time, she had done nothing 
but wait, with little to break the monotony besides making changes to the 
interior decoration of the 'Kalliste' in line with her moods. She had 
chosen her Jaffa to provide her with distractions from this tedium, and 
chosen well, but always she dreamed of the day her waiting would end, and 
her beloved master return to her. 

She had anticipated rewards once Loki was restored. A world to call her 
own, and a lasting place at Loki's side; in his affections and in his 
bed. Instead, he berated her, belittled her efforts, and sent her to 
clean up his daughter's mess. He had not even shown her enough care to 
punish her when she disobeyed him. Was he angry with her for some reason? 
Eris wondered. Had she done something to earn his particular displeasure? 
Or had he always been this way, and his past kindness to her just a false 
memory, bred by millennia of isolation? 

Surely not; had he not given her this ship in the first place? Given her 
a place when others despised her immature form and infantile intellect? 
Called her his sweetheart? 

Silently, a hologram of Loki appeared on the bridge before Eris, and she 
immediately sat up straight and tried to arrange herself more pleasingly. 

Loki watched her with an indulgent smile. "The transfer is complete," he 
told her. "The 'Utgard' has barely enough crew, but we will manage." 

Eris smiled sweetly, although she knew that an Asgard mothership like the 
'Utgard' could be run at no less that 60% efficiency by a single captain, 
and that taking her Jaffa was purely an act of dominion. "I trust that 
you shall be pleased by their performance," was all that she said. 

"We are certain that we shall," Loki replied. "And if not...well, our 
daughter needs flesh, and Jaffa can be replaced." 

"Of course, Lord," Eris agreed, burying her anger. //Not just any 
Jaffa,// she thought, angrily. //My Jaffa. My only company and comfort 
for two thousand years, that I spent lifetimes husbanding and training.// 
The idea of her pets being discarded to clothe Loki and Angrboda's 
abomination made Eris' blood boil. 

"You will return to us once you have accomplished your task," Loki 
instructed. "Do not fail us, sweet Eris," he cautioned. 

"No, Sire," Eris replied, meekly. Inside she seethed, knowing that by 
this warning, Loki insinuated that she might betray him. //Ha!// She 
thought. //That husk that calls itself your daughter is more likely to 
turn on you than I am; once she knows where the Ship of Nails is 
hidden.// Eris would not be surprised if Hel or Jormungandr were to try 
and supplant their father. Well, however he treated her, they would have 
to get past Eris first; or they would do if Loki were not sending her 
away. 

"We shall await your return to us, Eris," Loki assured her, tenderly. "Do 
not stay away long." 

"No, Sire," Eris agreed, her heart in her mouth. Did that mean he would 
miss her? 

Without further ceremony, Loki cut the transmission, and the Utgard 
pulled away from Earth's orbit, accelerating hard towards the edge of the 
system, where it could safely activate its hyperdrives. Eris watched it 
go, brooding on the unfairness of life and obsessing on Loki's final 
words. 

"'Kalliste,'" she said at last. 

"Mistress," the 'Kalliste' replied. Eris had painstakingly created the 
mothership's voice in one of the more depressing periods of her two-
thousand year vigil, and its mellifluent, maternal tones had been 
designed to be warm and comforting for her. After all these years, they 
still worked, and Eris felt herself calming. 

"Maintain this orbit," Eris instructed. "And try to work out a suitable 
shift rotation for my remaining Jaffa. Also, I have to transport to the 
surface of this wretched world, so make sure there is a bath waiting when 
I return." 

                         *******************

Daniel Jackson sat on the edge of Dr Fraiser's desk, wrapped head to toe 
in bandages, watching the SGC's CMO gaze into a microscope. Every so 
often, he glanced sideways, to where Cassandra sat at Llew Midhir's 
bedside. The boy was not - so far as Janet could make out - injured, but 
he was in a state of shock.

"You know I'm still mad at you," Janet told Daniel. "I mean, what were 
you thinking?" 

"I was thinking: If I tell them to stay here, then they'll stay here," 
Daniel replied. "Stupid, I know, but it was all I could do." 

"I get that you didn't invite them off-world," Janet assured him. "And I 
can't really be too angry when you saved their lives and lost your skin. 
But I was talking about the hair."

"Oh," Daniel said, looking over at Cassandra, her naturally blonde hair 
stained to a rather fetching shade of indigo. "I think she looks pretty 
good, actually." 

"I'm sure you know that's not the issue here." 

"She was *bored* Janet," Daniel explained. "All of her friends were away, 
and with the best will in the world I'm no substitute for a sixteen year 
old girl's friends. We went to the movies and I took her shopping a few 
times, but I think she felt stifled. Call it acting out, or self-
expression or whatever; she was going nuts, and dyeing her hair seemed to 
help her let off steam. I felt I the circumstances it was preferable to 
letting her commandeer Sam's lab to build a Battlebot." 

Janet sighed. "I should be angrier," she said. "But I guess I'm too glad 
to see you both safe and well." 

"How about Llew?" Daniel asked. "Is he safe and well?" 

"Well, I gave him a full physical," Janet told Daniel. "And even I've 
only ever seen a handful of people as healthy as Llew is." 

"Teal'c?" Daniel asked. 

Janet nodded. "Maybe the Tollans I examined, but even the Tollans had 
faint scar tissue. Llew has none. All of his organs appear to be in 
rather more than perfect working order; his lung capacity is incredible, 
and he can hold his breath for more than eight minutes." 

"He senses things as well," Daniel said. 

"Cassandra told me," Janet said. "I can't account for that yet, but I do 
know that his range of vision and hearing is about 30% broader than yours 
or mine, and maybe twice as sensitive; his spatial awareness is superb, 
his reflex speed is off the chart, and his neural activity is about 5% 
higher than most humans. I'd guess that if I did a biopsy we'd find his 
nerves, muscles and other tissues are in an absolute optimum condition. 
He's in perfect health," she summarised. 

"Janet; the boy was knifed in the gut and he doesn't have a scratch to 
show for it. I saw him stabbed; he must have lost almost a quart of 
blood. That's not just perfect health." 

"No, it's not," Janet agreed, dropping her voice to a whisper. "At first, 
I thought that it might be the nanocytes in his bandages; that his 
exceptional health was accelerating the same effect that they're having 
on you." 

"But?" 

"But, the nanocytes in Llew's bandage were destroyed before they had a 
chance to do anything. That black residue was all that was left of them." 

Destroyed?" Daniel asked, alarmed. "By what?" 

"His system is *already* teeming with nanocytes," Janet said. "Smaller 
than anything I've seen before. I can't make out anything of how they 
function - I can barely spot that they're artificial - but they're there, 
and I think we can take a guess at what they do." 

"How did they get there?" Daniel asked. 

Janet shrugged. "I don't know," she admitted. She looked tired, Daniel 
noticed. Not so much sleepy as simply bone weary. "Although, judging by 
their spread in his body, I'd say they've been there a long time." 

"Can you get them out?" Llew called across the infirmary, making the two 
grown-ups jump. 

"Twice as sensitive?" Daniel asked Janet. 

"Thereabouts," she said, crossing to Llew's bed. "I don't know how to get 
them out," she admitted. "But even if I did, I don't know what it would 
do to you. Your life might be dependent on them." 

Llew looked appalled. "Like Teal'c's is on that...thing!" 

"No," Daniel told him. "Look; Hel said that you had been altered by the 
Asgard. Maybe this is what she meant. It would explain why they're so 
much more advanced than any Goa'uld technology we've ever seen." 

"Why?" Cassie asked, squeezing Llew's hand tightly. 

"I don't know," Daniel admitted. "But I've never known them to act for 
selfish reasons." 

"How's Captain Kawalsky?" Llew asked, changing the subject. 

"She'll be fine," Janet promised. "She was pretty banged up, but there 
shouldn't be any permanent harm done. We've transferred her to a regular 
military hospital to convalesce." 

"So why am I still here?" Llew asked. 

"Well; we want to keep an eye on you," Janet said. 

"You don't trust me." 

"No!" Cassie insisted. "Or...I mean, yes; we trust you." 

"We do," Janet agreed. "But I want to make sure that you don't relapse, 
and a regular hospital wouldn't know what to do with you. If you don't 
like the infirmary, you can always stay at our place," she added. 

"I'd like that, Dr Fraiser," Llew said, touched. "Thank you." 

"Don't mention it. It's the only way I'm likely to get Cassie to go home 
and get some sleep." 

"Mom!" Cassie cried, embarrassed by the obvious mothering. 

"You should take your own advice, Janet," Daniel suggested. "You look 
like you haven't been to bed in a while." 

Janet shrugged. "They called me as soon as you went missing. Aside from a 
few minutes on the plane I haven't slept since, but I'm okay for a while 
longer." 

"Tired people make mistakes," Daniel told her, firmly. "As a certain 
doctor keeps telling Sam and me." Janet started to protest, but Daniel 
cut her off. "Take them home," he said. "Get some sleep. Come back and 
have a fresh crack at this in the morning. I'll have General Hammond 
assign you a driver as well; I don't want you behind the wheel like 
this." 

"Daniel!" Janet protested, drawing a snicker from the two teenagers. 
Janet scowled at them, but finally relented. "Alright; fine. But I'm not 
putting up with anyone calling me the mother hen of the SGC again; I'll 
direct them to you instead." 

"And I'll send them to Teal'c," Daniel replied. "Have a good night's 
sleep; all of you." He reached down and squeezed Llew's shoulder, 
encouragingly. "You're going to be fine," he promised. 

                         *******************

Eris targeted the 'Kalliste's' transporters at a point some distance from 
the site of Hel's tomb. She materialised in the brilliance of a clear, 
crisp morning, with a cold breeze blowing on her face. She caught a sharp 
breath, her first taste of natural, fresh air for two millennia. The cold 
startled her after the 'Kalliste's' carefully maintained temperature, 
although her clothing kept her warm enough. A random sampling of native 
fashions had allowed Eris to choose something that she found comfortable 
and flattering, and that was likely to be inconspicuous. It was different 
from her customary chiton, but she was glad of the extra material. 

Eris made her way quickly across the dig site, trying to ignore the 
stares of the people around her, and wondering if she had misjudged in 
her choice of clothing. She felt exposed, and began to think better of 
her decision to descend to the planet's surface unescorted. She took some 
comfort from her hand device - not the delicate, ornamental weapon she 
habitually wore around the ship, but a customised gauntlet, created for 
her in 'Kalliste's' small foundry, incorporating not only a ribbon 
weapon, but a set of hand claws, a recall device to activate the 
'Kalliste's' transporter, a communicator and a portable scanning array - 
but as much as she enjoyed killing, she had never been fond of fighting 
her own battles when others could have done it for her. Eris would have 
given much to have her senior Jaffa - not bearing the title of System 
Lord, she was not permitted a First Prime, but she had always retained 
one of her warriors in a similar role - by her side, but even had she 
thought of this earlier, the current incumbent was now serving aboard the 
'Utgard.' 

Her attention was seized by a shrill whistle, and she looked around in 
shock. For a moment, she felt panic rising inside her; had she been 
recognised for what she was? But then she saw for the first time the eyes 
of the people who stared at her, and she saw the desire in those eyes. A 
lazy smile spread across her face, and she made her way with a slower, 
more confident gait to the tomb, which was concealed beneath a canvas 
tent. 

Eris dropped lightly down into the pit, and walked towards the door of 
the tomb. She heard a scrambling noise behind her. 

"Wait! You can't go in the..." 

As a heavy hand descended on her shoulder, Eris turned, catching the man 
by the wrist and slamming him hard against one of the granite demi-pylons 
which flanked the door. She caught his throat in a fierce grip, holding 
him pinned. The man struggled, but although he was strong, the Goa'uld 
was stronger. 

"And if I want to go in?" Eris asked, concealing her nature for the 
moment and speaking in a human tone. "Are you going to stop me, little 
man?" There was laughter in her voice; she was enjoying the feeling of 
power, the scent of the man's fear. 

"Dangerous," he gasped. "Rock fall." 

"Really?" Eris asked, feigning astonishment. 

"Dr Midhir was hurt. Took her to the hospital." 

Eris eased off her grip, and began to idly stroke the man's face with her 
left hand. He shivered as the cool metal claws of her hand device touched 
his skin. "And what of the others...I'm sorry. I didn't ask your name." 

"John," he whispered, hoarsely. 

"Eris," she replied. "Where did the others go, John? Dr Daniel Jackson, 
his servants and guards." Eris was quite pleased with the progress of 
this interview, and especially with her handling of the local language. 

"I don't know," the man said. "Honestly. They just sent word that they 
wanted their stuff packed up, and someone would come and collect it." 

"And where is this...stuff?" Eris asked, in an intimate whisper. 

"All packed up at the east of the site," John replied, in a voice that 
was terrified, fascinated and revolted all at once. 

"Thank you, John," Eris said, releasing his throat. She looked down at 
him as he slumped, coughing and gasping for breath at the foot of the 
pylon. "You're a handsome creature," she told him, with a smile. "Would 
you like to be my slave?" 

"You're insane," John told her. 

Eris' smile dissolved as she laid her left hand on his head. "No need to 
be rude," she told him. "A simple no would have sufficed." 

                         *******************

Emerging from the tent, Eris followed John's directions, and located a 
small stack of baggage. She passed her hand over the stack but, 
stubbornly, the indicators in her gauntlet refused to glow, meaning that 
the stone she sought was not here. That was not altogether unexpected; if 
a primary Chappa'ai was active, then Jackson and his servants would have 
travelled there from Eljudnir. But it meant tracking that Gate and 
probably infiltrating the palace of Daniel Jackson's master, which would 
be tedious; if not downright dangerous. 

With a sigh, Eris dug into a few of the packs, then - having found what 
she was looking for - activated her recall device, and the 'Kalliste's' 
transport beam snatched her from the planet's surface. Displaying her 
usual consideration and foresight, the ship deposited Eris in her bath 
chamber, where scented water steamed invitingly in the tub. Her favourite 
musicians - a flautist and a harpist - played soothing tunes, and her 
third favourite personal attendant waited on her, the other two having 
been taken by Loki. 

Eris undressed, and sank delightedly into the bath, letting the water 
steal the chill from her bones. "'Kalliste,'" she said. "Find me the 
Chappa'ai of this world, and tell me everything about the place where it 
is housed." 

"At once, Mistress," the ship acknowledged. 

Eris sat forward, allowing the Jaffa to begin scrubbing her back. "No 
hurry," she said. "I will take your report when I am done here." 

"Very well, Mistress. I have taken the liberty of securing provisions 
from the planet's surface for your dinner," the 'Kalliste' added. 

Eris' mouth began to water. Real food; it had been so long. "Mmmm," she 
purred, happily. "Ah, 'Kalliste.' What would I do without you?" 

                         *******************

Hel reclined on a couch in her father's quarters, dimly wishing that her 
body still retained the living senses that would have allowed her to 
enjoy the surroundings. Since one of her experimental nanocytes had 
killed her, ceasing her biological functions, leaving nothing but the 
other nano-machines already within her body to keep her going, she had 
been aware of her surroundings only as information. She could analyse the 
chemical composition of anything she put into her mouth, for example, but 
she could not taste it. Likewise, she could sink into the luxurious 
cushions of Loki's couch, but she could not feel comfort and pleasure at 
the tactile sensation, even when clothed in another's stolen flesh. 

"Do you believe that the silly child can regain my stone?" Hel asked. 

Loki fixed her with a fierce gaze. "You should be wary of mocking our 
other servants, daughter," he said. "When it is your failure she must 
make right." 

"I was betrayed," Hel spat. 

"To allow such a betrayal is failure in itself," Loki replied, warning 
her that *he* would not fail in this regard. 

Hel shrank before her father's quiet anger. The Trickster could be prone 
to fits of temper; black rages, wherein he would lash out at everything 
around him, or pummel the object of his fury into a bloody pulp with his 
bare hands. Such episodes could be avoided however, by the simple 
expedient of ducking out of sight as quickly as possible, and letting him 
spend his fury on servants and Jaffa. It was when Loki became calm that 
the wise servant feared him most.

"We set you a simple task," Loki said. "Three things we required of our 
children: To protect our Queen, your mother; to find places of security, 
and gather an army for our return; and to hold the stones which we 
entrusted to you. When we return to find you skulking on a lifeless 
world, surrounded by a handful of shambling corpses, our sweet Angrboda 
destroyed, and our stone taken by the Tau'ri - the Tau'ri! You can 
imagine that we might be a little DISAPPOINTED!" 

Hel flinched from her father's bellow, averting her eyes humbly. "I did 
manage to keep Fenrir's stone from being lost," she argued. 

"You sought to gather the stones for yourself," Loki accused. 

Hel did not bother to deny that. "And it *was* I who freed you from your 
prison." 

"And Eris who snatched us from that rock before the Asgard arrived to 
imprison us once more," Loki told her. "So of the two of you, she comes 
out ahead at the moment, and face facts, dear daughter; she is far more 
pleasant company." Loki smiled cruelly, and gestured towards his child's 
shrivelled form. 

"That...might be remedied," Hel said. 

"How so?" 

Hel smiled, a hideous rictus splitting her necrotic face. "With the 
technology of the 'Utgard,'" she explained. "I can attempt to root out 
the particular devices that killed me, and that keep me dead. With those 
gone, a spell in the sarcophagus should restore me to life and health." 
It was not something that she had thought of before. It had been so long 
since she had possessed true flesh of her own that she had almost ceased 
to consider ways to restore herself. 

Loki nodded. "Then perhaps if you please us, we shall allow you access to 
that technology." 

"Thank you, father." Having thought of this method, Hel was eager to try 
it out; to reclaim those senses that she had missed. 

Loki waved away the thanks. "First you must earn our indulgence," he 
said. "You have told us of Fenrir. We doubt that we could reclaim him; or 
that it would be worthwhile. We have his stone, and without it he is 
worthless to us. Tell us instead of Jormungandr," he instructed her, his 
voice proud. 

Hel bridled at his tone. Jormungandr had always been the favourite. "When 
our mother ordered us to attempt your release by force of arms, we 
brought our three vessels to your prison." 

"Only three? Why were their not more?" 

"There were a small number of lesser craft, but only the three 
motherships. Mother ordered your handmaiden" - Eris, but she saw no 
reason to dignify the chit by using her name - "to remain behind in the 
'Kalliste,' in case the plan were to fail; as it did. Mother's vessel was 
destroyed, and she with it. Jormungandr surrendered, and I was able to 
escape." 

"You left your mother?" 

"Mother was already dead," Hel lied. "I tried to save her, but my vessel 
was too badly damaged. I barely had the power to attain hypervelocity and 
flee." 

"And your brother?" Loki asked. 

"Was taken to the prison ship; Muspel. I was unable to effect his rescue 
because of Muspel's defences. Any vessel that approaches is fired upon 
and destroyed; I doubt the 'Utgard' would stand much more of a chance 
than my Ha'tak ship. There is a field around the prison which prevents 
the use of transport beams in either direction." Her smile deepened. 

Loki observed his daughter, shrewdly. "In the years of your confinement," 
he said. "Did you perchance give any thought to a means of releasing your 
brother." 

"I did," she replied. "I believe I can perform on the 'Utgard's' primary 
transport array a similar modification to the one I made to the long-
range device which carried the Tau'ri to free you. This might then be 
effective in landing an operative on the surface of Muspel, and then 
lifting that operative and my dear brother back to the 'Utgard.'" 

"Splendid!" Loki exclaimed. "Make these changes, and then we will allow 
you to restore yourself." 

                         *******************

"You say that nothing can approach?" Sam asked. 

Thor nodded. "The defences built into Muspel are sufficient to destroy, 
or at least cripple, any approaching vessel; even the 'Naglfar' would be 
damaged by the ferocity of the barrage." 

Sam examined the holographic schematic of the Naglfar which Freyja had 
provided for this planning session. Newman and Hnoss were present, along 
with Sam and the two Asgard commanders. Both Thor and Freyja had 
extensive training in the Asgard discipline of martial philosophy, but 
despite - or more likely *because* of - this expertise, they hung on 
Sam's every word. Plainly, they saw no shame in learning from the less 
sophisticated - but sometimes more practical - methods of the humans. 

Muspel travelled like a comet because it was built onto the back of one; 
massive enough to hold a thin atmosphere. Field generators beneath the 
city intensified the comet's gravity to hold the inmates and their 
artificial atmosphere down. They called it a prison ship, but it was more 
of a city, its inmates constrained not by bars but by its isolation and 
kept in relative comfort. The perimeter wall was only there to protect 
them from the environment. There were gardens and parks, as well as an 
industrial area, where - Thor explained - the inmates manufactured 
whatever goods they required. The architecture was austere, but 
beautiful, with the administrative building forming a grand centrepiece. 
The city was lit dimly but continually by light from the comet beneath 
it, refracted by a powerful energy field, creating a perpetual twilight. 
Beyond the city's limits, the surface of the comet bristled with imposing 
turrets, and a thin belt of debris straggled back into the comet's tail. 

"How did you manage to supply the place?" Sam asked. 

"The warden's residence was equipped with a one-way transport beam to 
collect necessary supplies," Thor explained. "Although we deliberately 
made the prison as self-sustaining as possible. When the time came for 
the warden to be replaced, he would deactivate the transport blocks for a 
few moments. All of these controls were housed in the administrative 
building. It would also be possible to disable the defences from the same 
control centre." 

"Have we even found the thing yet?" 

"We have," Freyja replied. "We located Muspel about half an hour ago." 

Sam nodded. "Can we see it?" She asked. "I mean, see it as it is now?" 

Freyja nodded, and lifted her hand, and the schematic hologram was 
replaced with a solid image. 

"I see Jormungandr doesn't have green fingers," Newman noted. Sure 
enough, there was no sign of the lush parks which had once covered a good 
two-thirds of Muspel's surface, and only one garden was visible. The 
image lacked detail, especially within the perimeter wall, but most of 
the buildings seemed to have fallen into decay. The administrative 
building had almost vanished, replaced by a steep-sided mound. 

"Look at that," Sam said, pointing out a number of dents in the perimeter 
wall. "Do the guns not stop something as small as an asteroid, or a 
meteor?" 

"A sufficient number of meteors would confuse the weapons," Thor replied. 
"But the failsafes would override a locked gun the moment a large vessel 
came into range." 

"And what about a small vessel?" Sam asked. 

"A small vessel would be destroyed by a single hit from one of the 
defence cannons," Freyja told her. 

"But what if they were screened by a meteor shower?" Sam insisted. 

"The weapons might single out their power signatures," Freyja said, 
cautiously. "But there is a chance that a smaller vessel could slip in." 

"Can you try to collect debris?" Sam asked. "Take it in tow or 
something?" 

Freyja nodded. "We can." 

"Good. Do that. Then, when we reach Muspel, we can use that as a screen 
to land a small raiding party in your fighters, deactivate the defences 
and get Jormungandr out of there." 

"Now that," Newman said, with admiration. "Is a stupid idea." 

Sam smiled. "Is he the only one there?" She asked the Asgard. 

"He is," Thor replied. "Although we can not pinpoint him while the anti-
transport block is in place. It operates by preventing the detailed 
scanning required to target an individual or location." 

"That is also why we can not gain a more accurate image of the area 
within the walls," Freyja explained. 

"We shouldn't need too many people then. Just four or five; enough to 
handle big, ugly, Unas-shaped trouble." 

"I'm in," Newman said. "Sounds like a blast." 

"You will need the best pilots we have," Hnoss agreed. "That would be 
Ratatosk Flight." 

"Ratatosk?" 

"The Rats," Newman told her. "Our flight." 

"I also will accompany you," Thor told them. "If you encounter 
Jormungandr, you may require my assistance." 

"I'm sure we can handle one Goa'uld," Newman assured him. 

"Not this one!" Thor snapped. 

                         *******************

Llew and Cassie sat on the back porch of Dr Fraiser's house, looking up 
at the stars, as they began to sparkle in the evening sky. 

"How's your Mam?" Llew asked. 

Cassie grimaced. "She's surprisingly calm, but I think I'm going to be in 
big trouble later. For now she's just glad to have me back, but that 
won't last. I'm going to have to start stockpiling snacks against the 
inevitable house arrest." 

Llew smiled. "You'll weather it," he assured her. "But tell me: Dr 
Jackson and your mother...?" 

"Oh, don't you start," Cassandra retorted. 

"You don't think...?" Llew coaxed. 

Cassie laughed. "I try not to. I know they're close, but I don't think 
they're that close. Not unless they're playing it very close to their 
chests." She sighed, softly. "Actually, Daniel's pretty shy of women 
these days. Not that I think he was ever exactly Dr Lurve, but..." 

"Bad times?" Llew asked. 

"He was married to a woman named Sha're," Cassie explained. "Who was 
taken by the Goa'uld. When he finally found her again, she tried to kill 
him; Teal'c had to shoot her to save his life." 

"That must have been hard for him." 

"Actually, I think it was good for him. It gave him closure, and for 
certain it was better for her than being enslaved like that. There've 
been other women since, but nothing really serious, and...well, according 
to Teal'c - who doesn't think I need to be sheltered from the sex talk - 
a lot of women seem to want to *possess* Daniel. Not like a Goa'uld, just 
in a sex way; but it makes him jittery." 

"I kind of know how he feels," Llew said. 

"It's the shy-guy vibe," Cassie told him. "Makes the cool girls see you 
as an accessory they can have, rather than a person to be with." 

Llew raised his eyebrows at her tone. "Okay; once more with venom." 

"Sorry," Cassie said, shrugging it off. "I've had men want the same out 
of me, and I lost someone to a girl like that." 

"He was an idiot," Llew told her. "They all were." 

Cassie blushed. "So anyway," she asked. "Why this keen interest in my 
mother's domestic arrangements?" 

Llew shrugged. "I just...I often wish Daniel hadn't left Mam. That I'd 
grown up with a real father." 

"I though he wasn't..." 

"Oh; he isn't. Not biologically. But then Dr Fraiser's not your birth 
mother; does that mean she's not your real Mam?" 

"I guess it doesn't," Cassie admitted. "Although...sometimes I get 
scared. Sometimes, when we have a fight, and I yell at her that she's not 
my real mother, I get this cold feeling inside, and I'm afraid she'll 
just turn round and say: 'Well that means I don't have to put up with 
this'. And then she'd send me away somewhere." 

Llew smiled, warmly. "Never going to happen," he promised her. "It's 
plain to see you're as real a daughter to her as any mother could ask 
for. Why else would she nag you so much?" 

Cassie nodded, solemnly. "No one else knows what I just said," she told 
him. "You can keep...?" 

"Your secret? With my life," Llew promised her. He sighed, and after a 
few moments his smile grew wistful and nostalgic as he returned to his 
own story. "I was really young at the time," he said. "But I remember Mam 
was happy when she was with Daniel. I've never seen her be with another 
guy who made her...glow so much." 

"Glow? Is that an aura thing, or a metaphor?" 

"A little of both," he replied, becoming instantly subdued. "It's them, 
isn't it?" He asked. 

"Mom and Daniel?" Cassie asked, genuinely confused. 

"No. These *things* inside me. They're the ones that let me sense stuff." 
He laughed, bitterly. "My own, personal midichlorians." 

"Llew..." Cassie began, conciliatorily. 

"Who's Llew?" The young man demanded, angry at the world. "I don't know. 
What would I be like without them? From what your Mam said, I've had 
these things forever: Who knows *what* I really am." 

"Don't start this again," Cassie pleaded. "You're not a freak. Those 
things inside you, aren't you; they're just part of you, like your blood 
and skin," she insisted, brushing her hand against his face. "They tell 
you the Goa'uld are evil, which makes them pretty good judges of 
character. I don't think they're anything that could make you into 
something you're not." She cupped his face with her hand. "And I *like* 
what you are," she assured him. "Midichlorians and all." 

"Thanks, Cassie," Llew whispered, gazing into her eyes. The telephone 
rang, and it seemed very far away. 

"Any time," she replied, gently drawing him closer to her. His hand 
slipped into her hair, and their lips brushed together. 

"Cassie! Llew!" Janet came rushing through from the house, clutching the 
phone. 

"Son of a...!" Cassie snapped, angered at her mother's timing. The two 
teenagers leaped apart as though scalded, affecting an air of utmost 
innocence. 

"What's wrong, Dr Fraiser?" Llew asked, picking up on Janet's distress a 
few moments before Cassandra. 

"Daniel says we have to get you back to the base," she replied. "Both of 
you. He'll be here with a car here in ten minutes." She turned towards 
Llew. "I'm afraid there's been an incident at your mother's dig," she 
told him. "A man named John was killed." 

"Oh gods," Llew whispered. "Poor John; and poor Tamsin," he said, 
thinking of John's adoring girlfriend. 

Cassie felt a surge of guilt for her anger of a moment past. She laid her 
hand affectionately on her mother's arm, both giving and drawing comfort 
from the connection. Llew was right about one thing; blood relationship 
had little to do with who her 'real' mother was. "What...?" She began. 
"How did he die?" 

"He was murdered," Janet replied. "By a Goa'uld." 

                         *******************

Thor's outburst left everyone stunned, and before they could muster a 
response, he turned and walked out of the room. Hnoss and Newman stoop 
gawping, while Freyja shook her head sadly. Sam very much feared that she 
looked as foolish as the other two humans, so she shut her mouth, and 
took off after Thor. 

"Thor!" She called out, catching up with him in the corridor. At least, 
she hoped it was him; if it were one of the other Asgard in the crew, she 
would be very embarrassed. "Wait up." 

Thor turned, slowly. "How may I help you, Major Carter?" 

"Actually, I was wondering about you," Carter replied. "Do you want to 
talk about it?" 

"No." Thor turned away, but Sam caught him by the arm, surprising them 
both. 

"Thor. I have to know what I'm dealing with. What is down there that you 
are so afraid of?" 

Thor nodded, once. "Very well," he said. 

                         *******************

Thor led Sam to his quarters; a Spartan chamber, where he stood, and 
offered her what must be his sleeping pallet to sit on. She did so, and 
he launched into his tale without preamble. 

"We were able to capture Jormungandr when Loki's kin attempted to rescue 
him from his prison. We knew that such an attempt might come, and we had 
very clear orders in the event, that none of Loki's children were to be 
slain, as all of them were to be accounted kin to the Asgard." 

"I bet that went down well," Sam commented. 

"None of the Asgard involved in the battle had any qualms about killing 
Loki's get, but Odin was insistent, and the Council supported him. We 
were to use our weapons solely to disable the attacking vessels, and to 
board them in order to capture Angrboda, Hel and Jormungandr. Sadly, our 
opponents had few such scruples, and their Ha'tak vessels were enhanced 
with Asgard technology, to the point that they were almost a match for 
our motherships. 

"There were three pyramid vessels, and a number of smaller ships, while 
we had in our battlegroup the 'Biliskner' and the 'Thiazi,' commanded by 
myself and Skadi, respectively. We underestimated the power of Hel's 
enhanced Ha'tak vessels, and were nearly destroyed for our arrogance. We 
were saved only by Hel's cowardice. She left the battle when she saw that 
we sought to immobilise her vessel, and we were able to overcome the two 
remaining motherships, and their commanders surrendered. This being done, 
we sent boarding parties to take possession of the vessels and to take 
prisoners. 

"The 'Thiazi' sent nine Asgard onto Angrboda's Ha'tak. They began sending 
Jaffa back to Skadi's custody, but when they reached the pel'tac, 
Angrboda had gone. At that moment, a small escape craft launched from the 
Ha'tak, and before Skadi could transport her crew back to the safety of 
the 'Thiazi,' the reactors on the Goa'uld mothership detonated, 
destroying the entire vessel. All nine Asgard were killed." 

Sam was shocked. The idea of the Asgard being killed was difficult for 
her to grasp. Although she understood, intellectually, that Asgard must 
have died aboard the ships taken over by the Replicators, they always 
seemed so timeless in person; constant, in their almost ephemeral way. 
From the sound of it, nine was a tremendous number for the Asgard to 
lose, and she wondered how many of them there were in all. 

"Enraged and grief-stricken, Skadi fired on Angrboda's escape craft, 
destroying it before Loki's Queen could initiate her hyperdrives. She was 
criticised by the Council, but they had only requested Angrboda's 
capture, not ordered it. Only the children were sacrosanct." 

Sam swallowed hard. If it was difficult to think of the Asgard being 
killed, the idea of them becoming angry enough to destroy in cold blood 
was terrifying. "I have to admit," she said. "I find the idea of the 
Asgard acting in violence disturbing." 

"It does not happen often," Thor replied. "Although for some it comes 
more easily than others." 

"In Skadi, for example?" 

"Yes," Thor agreed. "But Skadi was renowned for her impetuous and 
passionate nature." 

Sam had a mental image of an Asgard suggesting a five week study of a 
planet before moving to a slightly lower level orbit, and an older Asgard 
telling her not to be so rash. 

"That was a long time ago," Thor went on. "And there were few even then 
who could rouse one of our people to rage. Loki was the only one who has 
yet survived doing so."

"What about Jormungandr?" She asked, not without trepidation. She could 
not claim that she liked the implications of Thor's words. 

"I entered the vessel with the boarding party, and we took care to 
disable the primary reactors before moving on to confront Jormungandr. We 
took most of his Jaffa captive with but one of our number being wounded 
in return, and so when we came to face the Serpent himself, we felt 
confident that we could quickly contain him. 

"We were wrong." 

Thor gave a small sound, that might have been a sigh. "Jormungandr's host 
had been large, even for a bull Unas, and his father and sister performed 
much work to make him more powerful and capable. As you know, a Goa'uld's 
ability to think and reason is affected by the neural capacity of its 
host..." 

"I didn't know that," Sam noted. "Although it explains a few things." 

"Even within an Unas, a Goa'uld is not stupid, but they think more slowly 
than those in human hosts. Jormungandr's host however had clearly been 
altered to accelerate its cognitive functions, as well as making it 
stronger, faster and tougher." 

"Stronger, faster and tougher than a regular Unas-Goa'uld? Isn't that 
overkill?" 

"Loki appeared to believe that it was insufficient kill. When we raided 
his laboratory, we found the remains of several experiments aimed at 
further enhancing his children, and Jormungandr's Unas host in 
particular." 

Sam shuddered. 

"Jormungandr was renowned for his tenacity and savagery in combat, and I 
can personally attest to both. Two of my companions were killed in the 
fight with Jormungandr, and several more injured. He almost overcame me, 
but fortunately Skadi arrived in time to assist me, and we were able to 
capture him." 

Sam thought of the fight she had witnessed between Thor and Freyja, and 
of the power of the Asgard's weapons. She shuddered again. 

"I was injured then," Thor told her. "And Jormungandr may have been 
weakened by his isolated life. But it will be a hard fight." 

Sam shrugged. "Look on the bright side," she said. "We may be blasted out 
of the sky before we reach him." 

Thor looked at her for a long moment. Then he blinked. Sam had no way of 
knowing if he realised that was a joke. 

                         *******************

Ferretti set the runestone that SG-6 had captured from Hel into a small, 
metal container. Lieutenant Jennifer Hailey - currently on rotating 
assignment with the SGC technical team and the SG-14 field engineering 
corps - closed the lid, and set a series of dials. 

"Explain to me again how this works?" Ferretti asked. "And please, use 
small words." He was hopping with impatience, eager to join Roberts and 
Pearson, but before he could go to the hospital to keep watch on his 
injured 2IC, he had to be certain that custodianship of the runestone had 
been securely passed on. 

Hailey smiled, a little smugly. "The box is made from Adamantium," she 
said. 

"Adamantium?" 

"An alloy of naquadah, trinium and carbon, which Major Carter developed, 
based on information gained from the Asgard." 

"Carter reads X-Men?" Ferretti asked. 

"Actually, I do," Hailey replied. "I suggested the name. It's the 
strongest alloy we have, but can only be manufactured in quite small 
amounts, and is a bit of a bugger to work. It is extremely effective at 
intercepting radiation, and so Major Carter felt that its most practical 
use would be - for the time being - in field containers for radioactive 
naquadah samples. 

"More importantly, the surface of this particular box carries a small 
charge, which in theory should prevent anything within the box being 
transported out." 

"In theory?"

"It's not something we've been able to test," she admitted. "Not having 
much access to Asgard transporter technology. But from everything we've 
been able to...ah...guess, about it, the theory is 100% sound." 

"Uh-huh?" 

"Yeah." She scratched her head, awkwardly. "So; has there been any word 
of the rest of SG-1?" 

"Nothing from Major Carter yet," Ferretti told her, knowing what she 
meant. It was pretty well known among the old hands at the SGC that 
Jennifer Hailey admired Major Carter - or rather Dr Carter, for it was 
her scientific achievements that Hailey looked up to - almost as much as 
she resented the older woman for blazing the hard trail that she felt 
driven to follow. 

"Is Dr Jackson on his way back with the children?" 

"Yeah," Ferretti acknowledged. "Although I wouldn't call 'em kids. 
They're a bit hot-headed, but they handled themselves okay." 

"And the base is going on full alert?" 

"There's a Goa'uld on Earth," Ferretti said. "There's not a lot that's 
more serious than that." 

                         *******************

Friday 

Before she turned in, Hnoss had stopped by Sam's quarters with what 
looked like a jumpsuit of some kind. She explained that it was an Asgard 
vacuum/pressure suit, to wear in the Steed. 

"More for the pressure than the vacuum," she explained. "If the ship gets 
hit, we won't survive to need the vac-protection, but we will be moving 
between different gravities, and you will need something to help 
compensate. If you have any trouble getting it sealed up in the morning, 
give me a shout." 

"I'm sure I'll manage," Sam replied. 

                         *******************

"Not so cocky now," Sam muttered to herself. It had taken her the best 
part of forty-five minutes to figure the fastenings on the vac-suit, but 
pride and bloody-mindedness kept her working at it instead of asking for 
help. The unfamiliar weight of the suit bothered her, and she fidgeted as 
she made her way to the briefing hall of the 'Stupid Idea.' The hologram 
of Muspel still floated in the centre of the room, but two more people 
had joined the briefing today; a slender, athletic young woman, and a 
wiry man, both apparently in their twenties, and both oriental. If she 
had to guess, Sam would have said the woman was Japanese, the man 
Vietnamese. 

"Carter," Newman greeted her. "May I present Ratatosk Flight. Hnoss and I 
you know, but I don't think you've met Nekai Yukio, from the world of 
Yomi - P9Z-226 to you - and Phan Kim; formerly of the Viet Cong." Newman 
and his comrades wore their vac-suits as easily as Sam would have worn an 
earth-made flight suit. 

"Hi," she said, uncertain how she felt about working with a former VC, 
and actually a little more worried about how he would feel about working 
with her. 

The two pilots returned her greeting, and if she had any concerns about 
enmity, those were quickly displaced, as they - and Hnoss - began to 
visibly struggle with hysteria. 

"Did I say something funny?" 

"Say?" Newman replied, walking around behind Sam. "No." Sam started as he 
put his hands on her back, and released a number of the suit fastenings. 
"You're just a little crooked." He resealed the suit, and Sam found that 
it was suddenly a lot more comfortable. 

"Thanks," she said, a little embarrassed. 

"Don't worry about it," he assured her. "These guys are just a little 
rude." 

Kim and Yukio reacted with disbelieving guffaws, while Hnoss smiled 
slyly. Before Sam could ask for further explanation, Freyja stepped 
forward, reminding them of the Asgard's silent presence. Sam noticed that 
Thor was also wearing a vac-suit. 

"We have now approached within launch range of Muspel," he said. "And 
have matched velocity with the comet. We estimate that it will take a 
further fifty-one to fifty-two minutes to gather sufficient debris from 
the comet's tail with the gravity scoops to provide an adequate screen 
for our approach. You will launch as soon as the gathering process is 
complete." 

Freyja fell silent, and without ceremony, Hnoss stepped up. As she did 
so, Sam saw all traces of her playful girlishness fall into the 
background as she assumed a serious and martial demeanour. "Have no 
illusions," she told the pilots. "This will be the toughest flight any of 
us have ever had. We will be manoeuvring in cover of free-falling space 
debris, under threat at any one time from no less than three separate 
Asgard heavy particle turrets. Anyone not feel up to the challenge?" 

The pilots gave no response. 

"Good," she said, with a smile. "Because I really do not believe that any 
of the other pilots could pull this off. 

"Yukio and I will be flying transport for Thor and Sam; Chris and Kim, 
you will be escort, although there should not be much to protect us from. 
We form up behind the debris screen, five hundred metres off the bow, and 
wait for the fields to release; then we follow the screen in. Formation 
must be loose, we must keep moving, and when we get past the perimeter 
wall, we need to dive in hard to get under the shadow where we will be 
safe from the weapons. After that we can cruise in low to the landing 
zone in this former park area here. 

"Once we are down, we will go on foot to locate Jormungandr and contain 
him. Weapons should be deployed at maximum stun, but no more. Once we hit 
the ground, the most experienced infantry officer among us will take 
command. I know that we have not trained with Sam before," she added. 

Sam was startled; she had not expected this. 

Hnoss shot Sam a reassuring smile. "Rest assured, however, that she is a 
fine commander, and trust her to see us through." She turned to face Sam. 
"So that you know, the strength of our team is in stealth. Yukio here is 
one of the few Chosen to come from a world controlled by one of the 
System Lords. She was a member of a ninja clan, which has been leading 
local resistance against the Goa'uld Susanowa on her homeworld for 
centuries." 

"It will be my honour to serve with you," Yukio assured her, with a 
slight bow. 

"Likewise, Phan Kim's training is in guerrilla warfare." 

"I guessed," Sam told Hnoss, ruefully. "You don't mind working under a 
running-dog American?" 

"I'll survive," Kim promised, affably. 

"Death is a great conqueror of prejudice," Newman said. "You should try 
it." 

"Been there, done that," Sam replied. 

"All of us have," Hnoss agreed. "Let us not have anyone resurrecting that 
habit on this run. If your Steed takes a hit from a particle cannon there 
will be nothing left to reclaim and resuscitate. Likewise, once on the 
surface we can not be recalled by transport beam - once we get over the 
wall we'll be completely out of contact with the 'Idea' - so death is 
likely to have time to stick. No reckless heroics." 

The pilots nodded their understanding. 

"Weapons?" Sam asked. 

"Combat gauntlets," Newman replied. 

"Gersemi has finished installing a limiter for you," Hnoss added. "So you 
can fire the gauntlet without blacking out. The cockpit of a Steed is 
rather small for two, so it is probably best that you do not bring 
anything else. Also, this is a capture mission. Jormungandr may not have 
the stone on him, so he needs to be able to answer questions. If we kill 
him on the surface, there is no certainty that we would be able to 
resuscitate." 

"How about a zat, for backup?" 

"Zat'nik'tels and similar electro-disruptive technologies will be 
ineffective against Jormungandr," Thor told Sam. 

"We'll get you used to firing the gauntlet at a stun level before we go," 
Newman added. "You'll manage just fine." 

                         *******************

Forty minutes of gauntlet training and ten of drinking some sort of 
isotonic compound to restore her bio-energy levels, Sam followed Newman 
to the flight deck; a long chamber where dozens of the small 'Thunder 
Steed' fighters hung on racks, like suits at a dry cleaner's. A raised 
walkway ran along the rear wall, some fifteen feet above the hangar 
floor. The flight deck was open to space at one end, half of the opening 
filled with the black void of space, the other with the pale glow of the 
comet's head. Sam guessed that either some form of inertia, or perhaps a 
protective force field, must hold the air within the deck.

Thor was waiting with the pilots on one of a large number of embarkation 
platforms, which extended from the walkway, over the hangar area. Each 
now wore a lightweight helmet and a combat gauntlet, in addition to a 
vac-suit. Yukio also had a short sword at her hip. Thor had no gauntlet, 
but was carrying a massive hammer. That last gave Sam pause, especially 
since the Asgard simply looked too frail to lift the weapon. 

"Have fun?" Hnoss asked, knowingly. 

Sam returned a puzzled frown, unclear precisely what Hnoss might know. 
Freyja's daughter tapped the side of her helmet, and Newman indicated a 
small toggle on Sam's shoulder. She pressed the stud, and a helmet 
materialised around her. Newman activated a similar control in his suit, 
and Sam watched in amazement as a burst of light - like an Asgard 
transport beam - surrounded his head for a moment, dissipating to leave a 
helmet. 

"Ratatosk Flight is ready, Control," Hnoss reported, and Sam realised her 
voice relayed to Sam through a comm-system in the helmet. 

Presumably in response to this signal, four of the Steeds were released 
from the racks, and flew under their own guidance to hover in place 
before the platform. The Asgard fighters were small, truly not much 
larger than the flesh and blood Steeds. Each consisted of a wheel-shaped 
body, held between a pair of long, narrow wings. The Steeds were powered 
by four engines, one at the top, and one at the bottom of the wheel, and 
one on each wing. A long tube each side of the wheel - above the wing -
housed the linear accelerators. 

A hatch opened in the back of each Steed, and the pilots climbed aboard. 
Sam followed Yukio, and clambered in behind the ninja when signalled. The 
cockpit filled most of the fighter's body, and consisted of a saddle-like 
seat, and two control yokes. Almost instinctively, she gripped Yukio's 
waist, as she would on a horse or a motorbike. 

"Is this right?" She asked, not wishing to be taken in by superficial 
similarities. 

"Unless you'd rather ride with Chris," Yukio said. 

"I'm not picky," Sam assured her, suddenly wondering if someone had been 
spreading scurrilous rumours. Yukio's lewd cackle seemed to confirm it. 

"*Hnoss*," Sam muttered. 

"Yes, Sam?" Hnoss' voice sounded by her ear. 

"Gah!" Sam exclaimed, startled, and actually looked around for Hnoss. The 
transmission was so free from distortion and static that it was hard to 
remember that she was only hearing the voice remotely. "How exactly do 
these helmet radios work?" 

"Well, they're not exactly radios," Hnoss corrected. "But basically if 
you say the name of one of the flight members with a little emphasis, it 
immediately opens a channel, which stays open until neither of you has 
said anything for thirty seconds. I'm going to switch us all to open 
channel now, though." 

"So we'll all be able to hear everything everyone says?" 

"That's right. Hang on: Ratatosk Flight, this is Rat Leader; report." 

"Rat Two, ready," Yukio responded. 

"Rat Three, ready," Kim confirmed. 

Newman was the last to report in. "Rat Four, standing by." 

"Ratatosk Flight," Freyja's voice came across the channel, with that 
same, disconcerting clarity. "This is control. You are cleared for 
launch; the debris screen will be released in thirty seconds." 

"In your own time then," Hnoss said, and moments later her Steed shot 
forward, engines flaring blue-white. Yukio pressed forward on the control 
yokes, and Sam felt herself dragged backwards by inertia as the Steed 
accelerated toward the open end of the hangar. With only a slight 
bucking, the fighter passed through the energy field, and Sam felt a 
lurch as her internal orientation went haywire, and her body started to 
tell her that she was lying on her back where she had been sitting up 
straight. Plainly they had left the effects of the 'Stupid Idea's' 
artificial gravity, and now the only attractive force acting on them was 
the tractor field holding the debris screen in place at an artificial 
Lagrange point. 

The four Steeds moved into position behind the wall of meteors and scrap 
metal that was to form their skirmishing shield. Yukio ran a systems 
check while they hovered. 

"Didn't you do that already?" 

"Better safe than sorry on a trip like this," Yukio replied. Sam felt 
forced to concede the point. 

"Ratatosk," Freyja said. "We will release the screen in ten seconds. 
Five. Four. Three. Two." Silently, the mass of space debris began to 
drift towards the comet's head. "Screen away. Good luck, Ratatosk." 

The fighters eased forward, the making minimal use of their engines, 
allowing the small craft to be drawn forward, for the most part, by 
gravity. They picked up speed slowly, as the glowing ball grew before 
them, and the dark stain on its back resolved into the shape of the city. 

"Muspel," Sam whispered. 

                         *******************

Daniel quietly opened the guest room door, and looked in at the woman 
lying on the bunk within. She was sleeping, curled into a tight foetal 
position, with a look of absolute peace on her sweet, pale features. 
Feeling some regret that he had to do so, Daniel crouched beside the 
bunk, and shook the woman gently by the shoulder. 

"Ganglot," he whispered. His approach to the woman was incredibly gentle, 
as though he were frightened of breaking her; as indeed he was. Having 
had her flesh repeatedly stolen by her mistress, Hel, Ganglot's skin was 
currently paper thin. "Ganglot," Daniel said, a little louder. 

The woman stirred in her sleep, and her eyes opened. She looked around in 
panic, but when her gaze settled on Daniel she became calm, and peace 
came over her face once more. "My Lord Daniel," she said, sleepily, 
speaking in an ancient Norse dialect. "How may I serve." 

Daniel smiled, gently. "Not Lord," he reminded her, speaking Goa'uld, as 
it was better than his ancient Norse. "Daniel." 

"Daniel," Ganglot corrected herself, rising to a sitting position. 

Daniel sat on the bed beside the young woman; or rather, the woman who 
looked young. In reality, she was at least fifteen centuries old, 
sustained by the products of Hel's twisted genius. "I need to know 
something about Hel," he said. "Did she have any way to travel to Earth, 
that would allow her to arrive through the Gate in the tomb, instead of 
through the main Gate?" 

Ganglot shrugged. "I do not know," she said. "I believe that the Gate was 
designed to be the only way to travel to her palace, and the only way to 
leave. She once said that if she were desperate, she could call for aid, 
but that would place her at the mercy of the Asgard." 

"And when did she say this?" 

"About six hundred years ago," Ganglot replied. 

Daniel was taken aback. "You remember things that she said six hundred 
years ago?" 

"When I forget things, I am punished," Ganglot replied. 

"Forgot," Daniel told her. "When you *forgot* things, you *were* 
punished. That's not going to happen anymore." 

Ganglot smiled, wistfully, and she reached out to stroke Daniel's face 
with her fingers. The touch felt odd, the bandages still numbing as well 
as covering his raw, exposed flesh. 

Daniel raised a hand, and wrapped his cloth-wrapped fingers around 
Ganglot's paper-skinned ones. "Right now, though, I need you to help me. 
I need you to remember as much as you can about how Hel planned to leave 
her palace, and what she meant to do afterwards." 

                         *******************

The free-fall descent towards the comet seemed to take forever. Without 
even the tractor field to provide a sense of gravity, Sam had difficulty 
keeping track of which way was up and which was down. Yukio seemed to 
have no such difficulties, but it made sense to Sam that this would be 
part of the training which she had been given. By leaning her body from 
side to side, and very gently working the controls, Yukio kept the Steed 
pointed steadily at the prison-city riding the back of the comet. 

"*Yukio*? How long ago were you chosen?" Sam asked. 

"Not long," the woman replied. "Maybe seven years." To look at, she was 
not much more than eighteen, which probably meant that she was about 
twenty-five. 

"You're very good," Sam complimented her. 

"It is what I was raised to be," Yukio replied, half-turning, and 
acknowledging the compliment with a gracious nod. "It was hard, resisting 
Susanowa's Bushi Guards, avoiding the agents of his Queen, Ameratseru. 
There was little room in our lives for error, so we were always taught 
that you must train with absolute dedication, to be the best that you can 
be." 

"Makes sense," Sam replied, sadly. 

"Don't feel too badly for me," Yukio told her. "Our lives were not 
completely bleak. We worked hard, and we played hard. Whenever we had a 
moment's grace for enjoyment, we used it to the full. Otherwise, what 
might we have had that would be worth fighting for. I hope one day to 
return to Yomi, as part of the 'Stupid Idea's' crew, and free my world." 

"I'm sure you will," Sam told her, sincerely. Yukio might have high 
ambitions, but she spoke with the kind of simple, uncomplicated 
conviction that allowed Daniel Jackson and Jack O'Neill to rock worlds on 
their axes. Of course, she also had a long life ahead of her, and the 
resources of an Asgard battle carrier to bring to the table, which could 
only help. 

"Weapons powering up," Hnoss announced. Immediately, Yukio snapped to 
full alert, scanning her HUD intently. 

"What are you watching for?" Sam asked, as ahead of them, debris began to 
be vaporised by pulses of brilliant blue energy. 

"Targeting beams," Yukio replied. "If the guns keep shooting at the 
screen that's fine," she explained, shifting position to keep as much 
debris as possible between the Steed and the weapons. "But if they spot 
us and begin to lock on to our power signatures, it all begins to get 
more interesting." 

"Interesting?" 

"My people have a curse," Yukio said, with a grim laugh. 

"May you live in interesting times," Sam guessed. 

"That's the one," she affirmed, as the Steed was rocked by a nearby 
detonation. Yukio swore violently in Japanese, and hauled the small craft 
out of a spin. 

As Sam recovered her sense of balance, she realised that the firing had 
all but ceased. "The guns; they must have locked." 

"Hai," Yukio replied. "Hopefully we can make it through before..." A red 
light flashed in the cockpit, accompanied by a soft yet insistent siren, 
and another burst of Japanese invective. 

"Break!" Hnoss ordered. Yukio was already slamming the fighter into 
another hard turn, as the space around them filled with sub-light 
particle bursts. 

Sam clung to Yukio's waist, wondering why a civilisation as advanced as 
the Asgard could not manage a simple safety harness and pressure seat. 
After a moment however, she realised that she was not being thrown around 
the cockpit so much as she expected to be. 

"Is there some kind of inertial stabilisation in this ship?" Sam asked. 

"Well, duh," Yukio replied, slamming the Steed hard enough to the right 
to press Sam against a bulkhead. 

"Why doesn't it compensate completely?" Sam asked. 

"Because," Yukio replied, tensely. "Humans function better as pilots if 
they are aware of the movement of their craft at a tactile level. Hold 
tight," she added, then the Steed stooped hard, and passed over the lip 
of the perimeter wall. 

Almost instantly, Sam felt her stomach heave, and her body pressed into 
her seat as the 1.1Gs of Muspel's focused gravity hit her system. "Oh 
God," she groaned. 

"It's okay," Yukio said, sounding more than a little nauseous herself. 
"We're safe now." As if by magic, the Steed shuddered violently. "What 
the..." Yukio began, before lapsing into the obscenities of her native 
tongue. 

"We're taking fire from the ground," Newman reported. "Must be from those 
no people who live here." 

"Well, this is unex...Damn!" Hnoss snapped. "My steed has been hit," she 
said. "I can not make it to the landing zone. I will try to..." Her voice 
broke off in a crackle of static. 

"Hnoss!" Yukio cried. 

"Bring it about," Newman said. "We'll go in an get her." 

"No," Sam responded, sharply. "The anti-air is too heavy. Proceed to the 
LZ and touch down." 

"What about Hnoss?" Newman demanded, although Sam was pleased to note 
that he obeyed her orders, even while questioning them.. "And Thor?" 

"We come back for them on foot," Sam replied. "These birds aren't built 
for ground attack, and she said it herself; our strength is in stealth." 
Yukio's Steed heaved, and pitched right. Smoke poured from the left wing. 
"Also, or fighter is shot up enough I don't want to risk turning." 

"Roger that," Newman agreed. "Bringing her down." 

"Let's just hope we get there in one piece," Kim muttered. 

                         *******************

Daniel burst into the control room, where General Hammond was just in the 
act of slamming down the red phone. 

"Problems?" Daniel asked. 

"We're having a little difficulty explaining the urgency of the situation 
to the Canadians, who are - I suppose only naturally - somewhat 
suspicious of our claim that a dangerous sociopath is loose on their 
territory, but that we have no real idea what he or she looks like. 

"Did anyone at the dig see anything?" 

"There have been reports of a girl," Hammond replied. "High school age, 
dark hair, attractive; dressed in black leather. No-one on the site 
recognised her." 

"High school age," Daniel mused. "From what Ganglot tells me, that sounds 
like Eris." 

"Eris?" 

Daniel nodded. "Greek Goddess of Spite; ultimately responsible for the 
Trojan War. According to Ganglot she is one of Loki's disciples, but not 
exactly Hel's favourite person. If she's here, that suggests..." 

"That Loki is as well," Hammond reasoned. 

"She probably came from a ship in orbit," Daniel said. "Loki has two that 
Ganglot knew of, other than those belonging to the underlords who 
abandoned him after his capture: The 'Utgard' and the 'Kalliste.'" 

"We haven't detected any ships entering Earth orbit," Hammond said. 

"Both ships were of Asgard make," Daniel explained. "Equipped with 
cloaking shields, much like Thor's ship. We'd never know they were 
there." 

"I was afraid of that," the General admitted. "We've been trying to 
contact the Asgard about it, but so far without success." He shook his 
head, but then looked up, alarmed. "If this girl has access to an Asgard 
vessel, then she could be anywhere now? She wouldn't even need a set of 
transport rings to reach ground level." 

"Yes, General," Daniel admitted. "But I think I know where she's 
heading." 

"Where?" 

"Here." 

                         *******************

Jack followed Fenrir through the woods, hearing the tramp of heavy feet 
far to their right. "Are you sure she went this way?" He asked.

"Almost," Fenrir replied. "I'm a good tracker, but she's a cunning one, 
my little Rose." There was pride in his voice, mixed with his fear for 
Roskva's safety.

"If you're so keen to protect these people," Jack said. "Why haven't you 
given them better weapons? Zat'nik'tels? Staff weapons? Or posted guards 
at the Chappa'ai with a couple of those big energy cannon jobs?"

"When the Asgard marooned me on what they thought was a deserted world, 
they gave me none of these things," Fenrir replied.

"Can't you make them? You said there was a plentiful naquadah supply?"

"I wouldn't know how," Fenrir admitted.

"What about all that genetic memory?" Jack asked. "You're a Harcesis; you 
should know everything. Weapons, spaceships, armour, satellite death 
rays; all that kind of thing?" 

Fenrir shook his head. "Such was not my inheritance," he said. I was not 
gifted with the same knowledge as my sister. She was always the clever 
one; I just muddle through."

Jack looked at him, dubiously. "You mean you have no genetic memory at 
all?"

"I remember some things," Fenrir admitted. "Things I never learned. Like 
the things that I teach at the Academy; the skills of a farmer, and a 
healer. These things...I think that my parents were these things once."

"Your parents? You mean their hosts?" Jack asked.

"Perhaps," Fenrir said. "I do not quite understand how it works. My 
father..." He trailed off, pained. "My father always considered me to be 
worse than a failure; a waste of flesh and blood he called me. Only my 
sister would stand up for me," he added, almost reverently. "She treated 
me kindly, and tried to help me become more powerful, so that father 
might see me differently."

"How did she help you?" Jack asked, warily.

"She was a genius," Fenrir said. "She altered me: Made me stronger, 
faster, smarter; implanted me with the devices which keep me alive."

"She used you as a guinea pig," Jack said, disgusted.

"Guinea pig?"

"As a test subject. To see which implants might take well in her."

"No," Fenrir insisted. "She had only my best interests at heart. She was 
a good, kind person to spend so much effort on someone little more than 
an animal."

Jack felt his blood was about to boil. By some fluke, Loki and Angrboda 
had birthed an innocent, with a gift for aiding others, and they had made 
him feel like a dumb beast. His sister - his *twin* sister - had used him 
as a big, affable lab rat, and he had never realised.

"Fenrir?" Jack asked. "What happened on Keruch?"

Fenrir was silent for a long moment. "Father always refused to grant me 
the governance of any of his systems," he said at last. "I believed I had 
a lot to offer, particularly on a newly-founded colony, but he never gave 
me the chance to prove myself."

"Oh boy," Jack whispered, realising he might have inadvertently triggered 
an episode of teary nostalgia.

"Keruch was one of the worlds that father granted governorship of to my 
sister, and she allowed me to oversee its early development. I was so 
excited," he said, wistfully. "So full of plans and good intentions. I 
knew I had a great deal to offer these people, and that if I could make 
something of this world, then father would see that I was not useless."

"So you ground them beneath the iron heel like a good little Harcesis..."

"No!" Fenrir snapped. "Why do you...!" He realised that he was shouting, 
and lowered his voice. "Why do you always say these things? My kin have 
never sought to harm others."

"So what did you do on Keruch?" Jack asked, putting aside the need to 
introduce Fenrir to some home truths for another time.

"Much as I have done here," Fenrir replied. "I taught them how to farm 
and build, and to tend their sick and wounded. They were afraid of me at 
first; of my appearance."

"How could that possibly be?"

"But they came to accept me," the giant continued. "In time I gained 
their trust, and a wife and a child." He sighed. "My father refused to 
recognise my achievements, but I no longer cared so much."

Jack felt a lump in his throat, knowing how this story of domestic idyll 
was due to end.

"But then my sister sent an urgent message to me, asking if I would aid 
her in battle against one of her enemies; a lesser System Lord named 
Kepher. I did so, but when I returned home to Keruch..." Fenrir choked on 
a sob, then looked up at Jack with haunted eyes. "It was like walking 
into a nightmare," he whispered.

                         *******************

It appeared that Guthwulf had not exaggerated when describing the trolls. 
The creature who stepped from the treeline was easily seven feet tall, 
with dark, greenish skin that certainly looked as through it should be 
tough as boot-leather. It's eyes were large, and recessed behind a heavy 
brow. Its hair was a lank, blonde mane, peeking out from under a conical 
helmet, and it wore armour of leather and steel plates, fashioned much in 
the style of the Jelling-folk's tunics. It carried a heavy club, on which 
the occasional light flashed and blinked.

Through his field glasses, Parker could see the creature's eyes, dark, 
beady and malevolent, glowering from beneath a heavy brow. At this 
distance, in this light, it was all but impossible to see how many of the 
creatures skulked in the woods behind the leader.

"Thomas," Parker whispered. "Ready with a flare, but don't put it up 
until I give the word."

"Yes, Sir."

The leader took six long strides forward, to stand before the gates. 
Parker panned up with his glasses, and saw Fowler sighting the monstrous 
figure with her rifle. "Hold your fire for now, Sergeant," Parker 
whispered into his radio. "If the situation goes south, Thomas will put 
up a flare and you should fire at will."

"Roger that, Sir."

Teal'c observed the marines quietly, impressed by their efficiency. Jaffa 
warriors led lives of near-absolute discipline, rarely letting their 
control falter, even when in the presence of none but family and friends. 
There was nothing of the joking that went on between human soldiers, and 
Teal'c often found himself entertaining doubts about the professionalism 
of human soldiers; until they went into action.

Teal'c raised his own field radio. "Sergeant Fowler," he said. "Are you 
able to ascertain the number of trolls still hiding in the woods?"

"Sorry, Sir," Fowler replied. "It's too dark back there."

The troll began to speak, and its voice was as hideous as its aspect; 
guttural and harsh, as though every word were an obscenity. The language 
was recognisably the antique Norse dialect of the people of Jelling, and 
while Teal'c did not understand that tongue, the tone was clear and 
familiar: The troll was demanding that the people of Tangrind deliver up 
their tribute, and threatening dire consequences for resistance.

Teal'c levelled his staff weapon at the treeline, waiting. Dark shapes 
moved between the trees; many of them. Not for the first time since 
joining SG-1, Teal'c wished he had managed to bring more Goa'uld 
munitions - specifically a supply of shock grenades and tacs - with him 
when he defected.

One of the townsfolk stood on the palisade and shouted down to the troll, 
his voice defiant. The troll called back a threat, which was answered 
with jeers and catcalls from the assembled warriors. There was fear 
behind the defiance however, and Teal'c guessed that the townsfolk were 
becoming aware of just how many trolls had come for them.

The troll spoke again, in a 'last warning' kind of voice. In response, an 
arrow streaked from the top of the palisade, striking it in the collar. 
The arrow punched clear through the troll's body, but did not seem to 
phase it overmuch.

"Thomas," Parker said, and the Sergeant fired a signal flare, the 
brilliant phosphorescent light casting an eerie glow over the clearing 
before the town, and revealing rank upon rank of the horrid trolls 
crouched at the treeline and beyond.

With a fierce crack, the lead troll's head split open under the force of 
a rifle shot. The townsfolk were plainly stunned, but the trolls, if they 
were impressed, did not show it. With a fierce warcry, uttered in no 
language Teal'c had even heard before, they surged forward from the 
trees.

                         *******************

"My people had become...worse than animals," Fenrir told Jack. "They were 
fighting each other; fighting tooth and nail and *killing* each other 
with their bare hands. Mothers killing their children; husbands killing 
their wives; brothers tearing each other apart. And when there was no one 
nearby for them to kill...They fed," he whispered, in a voice filled with 
horror.

"Fed on...?" Jack began to ask, but stopped, appalled. "Oh. God."

"I didn't know what to do," Fenrir went on. "I fought my way to my house, 
to protect my family, but..." He shivered, and paused a log time before 
going on. "But when I got there, my wife had already killed our child, 
and...

"I couldn't let it go on," he whispered, hoarsely. "But they wouldn't 
stop, and they turned on me. *She* turned on me. My own wife." The giant 
choked back a sob.

"After they were dead. I found...In the village centre, I found Kepher's 
standard. This was his revenge for his defeat; this cruel, *obscene* 
annihilation of my people. So I went after him, and I helped Hel to 
destroy him, and all of *his* people." Fenrir's voice was full of 
bitterness as he spoke, and a hatred that still burned strongly against 
Kepher. "I went too far," he said. "I know that. But I was *so* angry."

"The Asgard..." Jack began.

"The Asgard put me here to punish me," Fenrir said. "I avoided them for 
so long, because I was afraid of what they might do to me. But they did 
me a kindness sending me here; where I could find another people to 
protect. Where I could make amends."

"It's because of the Asgard I'm here," Jack admitted.

"I suspected as much," Fenrir allowed.

"They told me about Keruch; and about Kepher. But they said...They told 
me that Hel staged the attack on her home in order to justify the 
retributive attack on Kepher."

"No," Fenrir whispered. "It's not true. Why would she do that?"

"Did you tell her you wouldn't help her go after him?" Jack asked. "When 
you had driven off his troops?"

"I did."

"And did you go straight home? Or did she persuade you to rest up first?"

"She did...No!" Fenrir insisted. "You can't believe that."

"When it comes to the Goa'uld, I'll believe almost anything," Jack told 
him. "So long as it's bad."

Fenrir looked lost, and deeply conflicted. Jack was surprised to find 
that he felt genuinely sorry for the guy.

Behind them, the sound of gunfire cut through the night.

"Looks like the trolls have reached Tangrind," Jack observed.

Ahead of them, they heard a scream. As one, their heads turned to the 
sound, and they said: "Roskva!"

                         *******************

As the trolls rushed forward, a volley of arrows fell among them, and a 
few fell. Then Wayne opened up with the SAW, taking down more of them, 
but the line barely faltered. Every few seconds, Fowler would rack up 
another kill with her rifle, but with no obvious leaders, the value of a 
sniper was limited. Thomas fired off a couple of rounds from the M79, but 
the trolls quickly came too close for the grenades to arm before impact. 
The trolls were however discomforted by the light from the flare, 
confused and perturbed by the grenade blasts, and the energy bolts from 
Teal'c's staff weapon gave them pause. This was not the fight they had 
expected, and they did not seem to like it.

Even as the trolls came into effective range of Thomas and Parker's P90s, 
they began returning fire with their cudgels; flickering energy blasts 
spitting forth, accompanied by a fierce hissing sound. A few townsfolk 
were struck by these blasts, and fell, immobilised from the palisade, but 
most showed a well developed knack in ducking back at the right moments 
to allow the blast to flash overhead, or dissipate on the surface of the 
wood.

Wayne arched backwards, electricity arcing through his body, but he was 
on the widest part of the walkway, and did not fall. Parker hurried over 
to his fallen comrade, checked to see that he was still alive, then 
manned the SAW himself, cutting through the massed ranks of trolls like a 
scythe.

The trolls began to slow, unable to approach the wall too closely without 
losing line of sight on the defenders. For a moment, it looked as though 
they would advance no further, but Teal'c was an old hand, and knew in 
his gut that something would give soon.

In fact, several somethings gave.

First, the SAW jammed. After a cursory check, Parker abandoned the weapon 
and switched back to his P90, but the machine gun's weight of fire was 
missed.

Second, the trolls brought out their blasting weapons. Obviously short-
range devices, these were squat tubes, firing an energy pulse which 
caused the wood of the palisade to explode from the inside. Much later, 
Sam determined that these weapons used microwave technology, heating the 
moisture in a target to cause this internal detonation, and Teal'c was 
sincerely glad not to have seen one fired at a human being. The 
collateral effect of the weapon was bad enough, as defenders were thrown 
from the palisade walkway amid showers of splinters. Teal'c and the 
marines concentrated their fire on the wielders of these devices, but 
most of the townsfolk were already abandoning the palisade and forming up 
in the courtyard.

Finally, the gate fell. Under assault by the blasting weapons, the great 
boards splintered and shattered, and the way was opened. With a cry of 
triumph, the trolls charged forward, crashing into a line of shields. The 
shield bearers - mostly women - were driven back by the impact, but a 
rank of spearmen behind them thrust forward at the trolls, stabbing at 
throats and faces while the paralysing charges from the cudgels spattered 
harmlessly on shield and spear-shaft.

Turning, Teal'c fired into the troll ranks from behind, but as they 
pressed in over the bodies of the dead, the lines began to blur. Snapping 
closed the tip of his staff weapon, Teal'c leaped down into the melee.

                         *******************

Jack ran through the forest behind Fenrir, marvelling at the big man's 
turn of speed and agility. He knew himself to be in good shape, but he 
had completely lost sight of Fenrir when he heard the Harcesis' voice 
raised in a savage roar. The tell-tale sounds of combat filtered back 
through the trees - a clash of steel, this hiss-bark of discharging 
energy weapons - and Jack slowed, approaching the scene with more caution 
than Fenrir.

Fenrir was locked in battle with six foes. Roskva lay on the ground, 
battered and bruised, but looking largely unhurt. She was however 
shivering and twitching in a worrying manner. The enemy, Jack took to be 
trolls; monstrous figures as large as the Wolf himself, but plainly not 
so strong. Even as Jack approached, a slash of Fenrir's sword severed the 
head from one of the trolls, and a quick punch sent another staggering. 
He blocked a strike from a troll's cudgel on his blade, shrugging off the 
electrical discharge which arced into his arm, and riposting with a lunge 
that skewered the attacker through the throat. For a moment, Jack 
actually doubted if Fenrir needed his help, but as the troll staggered 
away, the Wolf's sword was pulled from his hand, and a troll struck his 
side - where the bullet wound was - and he roared in pain.

Fenrir staggered, and three trolls were on him, trying to pin his arms, 
and firing off charge after charge from their weapons. As the fourth 
troll, still punch drunk, staggered towards the fray, Jack stood up, and 
called out: "Hey, ugly!" Not his finest insult, but it did the trick.

The troll looked at Jack. Jack looked at the troll. Then he shot it dead.

The other trolls looked up at the bark of the submachine gun, and Fenrir 
took advantage of the distraction to grab one of his attackers by the 
wrist, and thrust its cudgel hard into the face of a second troll. The 
energy blast arced through the troll, throwing it back, and it toppled 
away from the maul even as the third warrior struck another painful blow 
to Fenrir's wounded side.

In a moment of horrifying clarity, Jack saw the path of the brute's fall, 
and knew that its considerable weight was about to crash down on the 
prone and helpless form of Roskva. Without stopping to think, Jack darted 
forward, and seized the girl by the arms. The troll's shadow fell over 
them both like a cloud, but, fuelled by pure adrenaline, Jack hauled the 
child away, back-pedalling furiously to get them both clear.

The huge body missed Jack's foot by less than an inch, but his relief was 
interrupted as a white-hot pain shot through him. He tried to turn, but 
found himself unable to do anything but fall flat on his back, Roskva 
still clutched to his chest. A troll loomed over them, cudgel raised, but 
just as Jack thought his time had come, the troll seemed to be distracted 
by something behind it.

Then huge arms wrapped around the creature, and twisted its head until 
its thick neck snapped with a sickening crack. Jack wished he could have 
covered Roskva's ears, to keep the child from hearing that sound.

The troll collapsed, leaving Fenrir standing, bloodied but victorious.

                         *******************

Teal'c swung his staff weapon across, striking a troll to the ground with 
the butt. Sensing another attacker behind him, he gripped the firing 
lever, tucked the tip of the staff under his arm and loosed a single, 
fatal shot. A third troll loomed up, but fell down as a bullet ripped 
through its throat. Teal'c made a mental note to thank Sergeant Fowler 
later, and took a moment to assess the situation.

The fighting was still fierce, as the trolls pressed into the main 
square. Major Parker fought side-by-side with one of the townswomen, 
standing guard over her fallen husband. Parker fired short, controlled 
bursts into the trolls from the cover of the heavy wooden shield that the 
woman carried. One troll tried to jump them as he reloaded, and the woman 
clobbered it in the face with the shield's metal rim.

From the corner of his eye, Teal'c saw Sergeant Thomas backed into a 
corner by a large group of trolls, his weapon hanging empty at his side. 
As Teal'c turned to help, two trolls fell back, bleeding heavily, as the 
Sergeant fired a sabot round from his M79, but the rest closed in. Teal'c 
shot another troll in the back, and a volley of zat blasts struck from 
the right. Then Teal'c was forced to turn as yet another shrieking 
warrior struck at him with its cudgel.

After what seemed an age, the night was split by a savage, ululating cry, 
and the press of trolls retreated. One of the watchtowers sounded a horn 
blast. Teal'c stood warily for a few more moments, then looked about him, 
and surveyed the field of battle.

There were at least three dozen trollish dead, including seven or eight 
around Teal'c himself, and probably many more outside. From the awed 
looks he was drawing, his performance must have greatly impressed the 
folk of Tangrind. There were about as many fallen humans as trolls, and 
the healers were emerging from the Academy now to see to the wounded. 
Most of the combatant townsfolk stood, exhausted from the effort, but a 
small group appeared to have been tasked with finishing off any trolls 
who were wounded but not slain. Major Parker was administering first aid 
to the man he had helped to guard. Teal'c saw a healer ministering to 
Thomas, while two others brought Wayne down from the palisade.

After a time, when the trolls had been checked and the dead and wounded 
gathered in, another horn sounded - three short blasts - and people began 
to emerge from their houses. It looked as though the entire town was 
turning out, and several warriors were going into and out of all of the 
houses. Teal'c realised that they were doing a head count, to see if 
anyone were missing.

"Sergeant Fowler," he said, speaking into his field radio. "Are you 
well?"

"Fine and dandy; thanks for asking," Fowler replied. "How about 
yourself?"

"I am well, thanks in part to you. Captain Wayne and Sergeant Thomas 
however are injured. Major Parker seems well."

"What about Mary?" Fowler asked.

"I am unsure," Teal'c replied. He looked around, but could see no sign of 
the archaeologist. "Are the trolls gone?"

"Long gone," Fowler assured him.

"Then please rejoin us in the village," Teal'c said. "And thank you again 
for your assistance."

Teal'c replaced the radio, and approached Guthwulf to ask after Mary. Not 
knowing the local language, he attempted to convey his meaning with 
gesture and by speaking slowly and clearly. While that might work for 
Daniel Jackson however, it did not seem to be doing the trick for Teal'c. 
Guthwulf recognised 'Mary', but no more than that. Or if he recognised 
more than that, he could not make Teal'c understand that fact.

Remembering the zat blasts that had struck the trolls attacking Thomas, 
Teal'c went into the Academy and tracked down the Sergeant.

Thomas was bleeding from a heavy blow to the temple, and a few tell-tale 
burns revealed that he had also been paralysed. "Mary?" He said. "I 
dunno, Sir. All I know is, she was there, blasting those things off me. 
One of them'd clubbed me down, and then the zat blasts started hitting 
them. I couldn't turn, but I saw her, shooting from behind a house, and 
the trolls just turned and left me; headed right out after her.

"Sorry I ragged on her, now," he added. "Probably saved my life."

Teal'c left Thomas, and went into a large hall where the healers were 
performing the painful task of laying out the dead. Teal'c walked quickly 
through the hall, noting with limited relief that Mary was not among the 
slain. He also saw that the healers were laying out the dead trolls with 
some care. Not so much as they showed towards their slain kin, but more 
than many would show to a fallen enemy.

"Teal'c!" Parker called, hurrying over to the Jaffa. "The natives are 
forming some kind of posse. I'm not sure why, and I can't find Mary to 
translate."

"I believe that they are going after those abducted by the trolls," 
Teal'c replied. "And I believe that one of those taken may be Mary 
Lasuip."

"So, we go with them?" Fowler asked, coming up behind her CO.

"Damn straight!" Parker agreed.

Outside, the horns bared once more, doubtless signalling the hunt. Teal'c 
nodded, slowly. "We do."

                         *******************

"Damn that thing hurts," Jack muttered, as the feeling returned to his 
limbs. "How you doing, Rosie?"

Fenrir conveyed Jack's concern to Roskva, who replied in an 
uncharacteristically shy voice. "She says she is sorry for what she said 
about you, and thanks you for saving her," the Wolf reported. "I thank 
you also. If not for you..."

"If not for us, you wouldn't have a big ol' bullet hole in your gut, and 
you'd have made short work of those clowns. I've never seen anyone fight 
like that."

Fenrir shrugged, modestly. "Such is the power that Hel gave to me. Power 
that she could use to her own ends," he added, bitterly.

Jack did not know what to say, but the dilemma was taken away when the 
sound of the horns carried through the woods to them.

"Mai'tac!" Fenrir swore. 

"What is it?"

"The trolls are retreating from Tangrind with prisoners. I must head them 
off at the Gate. Stay with Roskva," he added. "Keep her safe." Then he 
was away, bounding through the trees as though he had not just taken a 
heavy beating from three giant aliens.

"Wait...!" Jack sighed, then turned to Roskva. "Take this," he said, 
holding out his zat. "If anyone tries to hurt you, squeeze here..."

The weapon snapped open in Roskva's hand, and Jack barely darted aside as 
a blast of energy whined through the air where he had been standing. The 
girl looked up at Jack, sheepishly.

"That's the idea," he said. "Just keep your head down," he said, 
gesturing. "And we'll be back for you soon."

Roskva seemed to get the idea, crouching under the low branches of a 
tree, gripping the zat tight enough to keep the weapon open, but 
fortunately not to fire it.

"That's good," Jack said, picking up one of the cudgels and testing its 
weight. "Now stay there, and Fenrir and I will be right back to get you." 
He hurried after Fenrir, muttering to himself: "I can't believe I'm 
telling kids to sit tight and wait for the big bad wolf to save the day."

                         *******************

Cassandra flexed her hand, uncomfortably. The Goa'uld ribbon device felt 
strange, wrapped close around her fingers, yet not actually inhibiting 
her movement. She felt her hand should be constrained, yet it was not. 

"So what do you want me to do with this?" She asked. 

Lieutenant Hailey smiled. "Well, we know of several uses for the ribbon 
device. The technology appears to function by focusing psychic energy 
through the crystal, and is almost as flexible as the mind of the wearer. 
However, I think we should avoid getting you to use the device to inflict 
pain, fuse synaptic connections or mesmerise anyone. Just try to knock 
down that tin can," she suggested, pointing to a cola can at the far end 
of a clear workbench. 

"Okay," Cassie agreed, rolling her neck and shoulders to loosen up. She 
felt a little self conscious, wearing only a rather skimpy halter top 
above her jeans, to allow Lieutenant Hailey to attach monitoring 
electrode to her torso. She also had on a pair of wired techno-
spectacles, which contained a low-powered laser to monitor her eyes. 

"Just focus," Hailey told her. "And Llew; you might want to be back 
behind Cassandra. The device can discharge in a fairly wide arc. 

"Sure," Llew agreed, ducking back behind Cassie's mark. "Good luck," he 
told the girl, touching her gently on the shoulder.

Cassie held out her hand towards the can, and glowered at it, willing it 
to be knocked down. Hailey turned to her readings, and saw that the 
girl's body was reacting to the stress of concentration - muscles 
tightening, eyes narrowing, heart rate increasing, neural activity up 
slightly - but nothing more.

Cassandra sighed in disgust. "Nothing," she snapped, and suddenly her 
readings went berserk. The levels from the neural monitors on her temples 
peaked at one hundred times normal, her heart rate actually *slowed* for 
a moment, and the electrodes on her left arm simply gave up the ghost and 
burned out.

The can rocked, but did not fall down.

"Well that was pathetic," Cassie said.

"More than anyone else on this base could do," Hailey reminded her. 
"Except for Major Carter, and the level of naquadah in her bloodstream is 
higher than yours. It's possible that your levels are just too low to 
provide an adequate connection to the device, but I don't think so. 
They're not that much below Major Carter's, and as near as I can make out 
with this equipment, you're connecting just fine. I suspect that the 
answer lies in mental clarity and focus."

"Meaning?" Cassie asked, giving Hailey the Teal'c: Raising one eyebrow in 
an expression that could register anything from simple curiosity to 
outright offence.

Hailey smiled, kindly. "Meaning that Major Carter is a thirty-some 
Astrophysics PhD, with a degree of single-mindedness that many have 
called unhealthy, whereas you are a sixteen year old high school student, 
with a good mind and a crush."

"I do not..."

"Please," Hailey said. "I'm monitoring your vitals, Cassandra Fraiser. 
You can hide nothing from me."

Cassandra blushed furiously. Behind her, Llew looked awkward enough that 
Hailey needed no monitors to tell how he was feeling.

"You do seem able to activate the device," Hailey continued. "But not as 
a matter of true volition. Rather, it seems to be kick-started by an 
*emotional* response. Perhaps if you try imagining that the can was 
Nirrti..."

Cassie frowned, flung out her hand, and the can cannoned into the air, 
rebounding from the wall and almost striking Daniel as he entered the 
room. Cassie's eyes widened in alarm. "Sorry, Daniel!"

"It's, um, okay," Daniel said, distractedly.

Behind Dr Jackson, Hailey saw two airmen take up stations by the door. 
"What's going on?" She asked.

"They found one of the guards in sector 62," Daniel told her, looking 
sick. "His throat had been torn out. We think she's here."

"She...?" Cassandra knew who Daniel meant, but did not want to face the 
fact.

"Eris," Daniel replied. "There's a Goa'uld on the base."

Cassie gave a short, pained cry, and tried to collapse into a ball. Llew 
caught her, and held on to her, and she gripped him back, tightly. Hailey 
looked baffled, but then, neither she nor Llew had been on the base the 
last time an uninvited Goa'uld had entered, searching for Cassie, and 
almost got her.

"It's okay," Hailey assured her. "We're safe here."

"No. I can...feel..."

Daniel looked at Llew, who frowned, but then nodded.

"She's coming," Daniel told the two airmen, who readied their weapons.

Llew set Cassandra gently on the floor, then stood - still gripping her 
hand - turning his head, slowly. "I can hear something," he said. "In the 
vents."

"No-one could get through the vents," Hailey assured him. "Unless they 
were a raccoon or an anorexic contortionist..."

With a shriek of tortured metal, the vent panel in the ceiling was 
blasted out, and a figure in an Air Force uniform dropped through. As she 
landed, she flexed her slender frame, popping dislocated joints back into 
place.

"Man, I hate being right all the time," Hailey complained.

The two airmen turned and rushed into the room, but the woman held out a 
hand, sheathed in metal, and they were thrown, unconscious, to the floor. 
The woman took a moment to look around, then reached out and seized Llew 
by the throat, lifting him with ease and pulling his body against hers. 
She held him, pinned helplessly, facing his friends so that they could 
see his fear.

"Let him go!" Daniel ordered.

"Oh no, Dr Jackson," Eris replied. "I want you to give me what you stole. 
Return Hel's runestone to me, or..." Her gauntlet changed, pointed 
fingertips morphing into long, razor-sharp claws. "This child's blood 
will be on your hands."

                         *******************

Sam scrambled through the rubble on Muspel's surface, her face wrapped in 
a scavenger mask. She knew that she was doing pretty well, but the way 
that Turaca and Setneb handled the uneven terrain put her to shame. This 
seemed to be one of the most completely destroyed areas of the city, and 
Turaca had explained that the remains of the Haskar chariot crashed here 
many years ago. The ship was all but gone now, it systems cannibalised 
both by Jormungandr and by the scavengers, and the hull cut up and 
carried away to make armour. All that remained was a skeleton, composed 
of a metal which no tool in the city could cut.

"When I sent the sled team back," Setneb explained. "I told them to fetch 
out Farriah and pick up the trail. I did not want to lose the other Sky 
Folk," she told Turaca, looking to him for approval. "Did I do right?" 
She asked him, when he made no response.

"You did," Turaca assured her, with a slightly pained expression. Sam 
thought she understood that look; he was a natural leader, but he did not 
want to be.

"They sent word back that they had been tracked to the Boneyard," Setneb 
went on, pleased, apparently oblivious to her commander's reluctance.

"Has there been word of any other Sky Folk?" Sam asked. "A man and a 
woman?"

"We found tracks around the place where your flying machines were," 
Setneb replied. "But lost the trail."

"We are here," Turaca announced. He was standing ahead of the two women, 
looking over a low ridge which must be the lip of the crash crater. Sam 
moved up behind him, and looked out over the Boneyard.

The crash track was still clear, after so many centuries, although the 
sharp edges of the banks had worn round and smoothed. They were at the 
terminus, the point where the Asgard mothership had come to a sudden, 
terminal halt, and it lay still below them, too massive to be moved, to 
hardy to be destroyed. The ship must have retained some use of its 
deceleration drive, since it had survived the passage through the 
atmosphere, and the impact with the ground, far better than the 
'Biliskner' when it crashed on Earth. Of course, Muspel had far less 
atmosphere to consider.

Sam could still see the shape of the proud ship in it's excarnated bones: 
The sweep of the wings at the rear; the engine towers and drive housings; 
the long, elegant neck; and a broad, spear-head prow, sharper than Thor's 
hammer-headed vessel. The engine housings had survived the best, 
especially the starboard tower; the port tower had been crumpled and bent 
as the ship slewed round in the crash, but they had plainly been built to 
last, housing whatever fuel the Asgard used. It looked like nothing so 
much as a great, beached whale; dead and gone, with only bones left for 
the gulls to pick at, and Sam felt a lump in her throat at the thought. 
Air Force personnel tended to have a fairly businesslike approach to 
their vehicles, but Sam knew that the SGC's hardened Marine officers 
would have wept at this sight.

"Where are my friends" Sam asked.

"In the tower," Setneb replied, indicating the partially collapsed port 
housing. "Our patrol is hanging back. The woman disabled Hura and stole 
his weapon, and is firing on anyone who attempts to enter their hiding 
place."

"*Hnoss*," Sam said. "Can you hear me?"

"It's quite a long way," Setneb told Sam. "She will not hear you from 
here."

"I have a communication device," Sam explained. "Hers - or perhaps mine - 
is malfunctioning however. *Newman*; are you there?"

"I'm here, Carter," Newman replied, softly. "They've patched me up 
nicely, but there's an awful lot of these guys in the corridor."

"It's okay," Sam told him. "They seem to be friendly. I'll try to explain 
when I get back, but I just wanted to be sure my comms were still 
working. I haven't heard from Yukio or Kim in a while, and I can't seem 
to get through to Hnoss either. I'm with some of the scavengers now, and 
I think we've found Hnoss and Thor. Can you try the others again?"

"Will do, Carter," Newman replied. "Good to hear your voice, by the way."

"Yours too," Sam replied. "Carter out."

Setneb was looking at Sam as though she were quite insane. "You are quite 
insane," she said.

Sam smiled. "Newman," she said. "Next time I see you; say eggplant."

"Say what?"

"Eggplant. I'll explain later."

They half-walked, half-slid down the sides of the crater, and approached 
the tower.  Sam could see that the crash had achieved what all the tools 
on Muspel had not, and torn an opening up the side of the tower. A mound 
of earth had been driven up to largely block this gash, leaving only a 
small entry, about twenty feet above the bottom of the crater. Around the 
base of the mound stood a wary scavenger patrol, including one of Yarris' 
species; presumably the other tracker, Farriah.

"Hnoss," Sam said, trying the comms one more time. When there was still 
no response, she began to climb the mound. "Hnoss!" She called out, when 
she was half-way.

"Sam!?"

"It's me," Sam confirmed. "I've made some new friends. Are you and Thor 
okay?"

"I have broken my arm," Hnoss replied. "We shall come out to you, if it 
is safe?"

"It is," Sam assured her.

A few moments later, Hnoss appeared in the opening. She was carrying one 
of the heavier pistols, and looked about her, warily.

"Your comms are out," Sam told her. "Or we'd have been here earlier."

"My helmet took a lot of the force as I landed," Hnoss explained. "It 
saved my life, its internal systems were damaged, as well as everything 
in my collar; including the comms. I also got my arm caught."

"So you broke your arm before you beat up the guy and took his gun?"

Hnoss nodded.

"Poor guy," Sam smiled.

Behind Hnoss, Thor emerged. "Major Carter; it is good to see you well."

"Likewise," Sam replied, affectionately.

"How are the others?" Hnoss asked.

"Newman's back at these guy's camp," Sam said. "We don't know about Yukio 
and Kim. They were guarding the ships, and now Jormungandr has those. I 
haven't been able to contact them either."

Hnoss nodded, solemnly. "So what now?" She asked.

"Let's go and say hello to my new friends," Sam suggested. "Then we'll 
get your arm patched up, and work out a way to get to our Serpent."

                         *******************

Daniel glanced at Cassandra, all but frozen in horror - understandably 
given her past record with the Goa'uld - and Lieutenant Hailey, alert, 
but not armed, then back to Llew. The boy was absolutely terrified, his 
eyes squeezed shut, whispering a prayer. Eris had his throat in her 
viciously clawed grip, and his right arm twisted behind his back.

"Where did you get that uniform?" Daniel asked, coolly.

"I found it at Hel's tomb," she told him.

Daniel breathed an inward sigh of relief. He was certain that the uniform 
belonged to Amy Kawalsky, and had been afraid that Eris might have hurt 
her to get it. "You killed John," he accused, stalling.

Eris smiled at the memory, and Daniel could not help but shudder. "I did, 
yes. He was rude. Quickly, Dr Jackson," she prompted. "I am as aware as 
you are that more military personnel could arrive any second. Believe me 
when I say that as much as I don't want that, the boy wants it even 
less." She gave a gentle squeeze, and Llew's throat bled. The boy 
whimpered in pain.

"Lieutenant," Daniel said. "Would you get the runestone out of storage 
please?"

"Dr Jackson..." Hailey protested.

"Please!" Daniel asked, intently. "She'll kill him."

"I really will," Eris confirmed. "And then everyone loses. You want the 
boy to live. My Master wants the boy and the girl to breed. And I..." She 
pressed her face against Llew's neck and inhaled deeply, causing him to 
shiver in fear. Her eyes never turned from Daniel and Hailey. "I can 
think of so *many* things to do with the child. So make us all happy, and 
give me the stone."

Hailey still hesitated.

"You think his death will be quick and painless?" Eris asked. "Nothing to 
compare to what my Master will do if he gets the stone?" Her voice 
dropped to a deadly, acid hiss. "Well know this: Even if I kill him here, 
I can take him away with me, and bring him back, again and again, and 
each time I kill him, it will be worse, and each time I kill him, he will 
*like it* just a little bit more. Each day he lives - and I will make him 
live so many lives - he will wake, desiring death by my hand." She 
squeezed again. Llew was crying.

"Just give him the damn rock!" Cassandra pleaded. She was practically in 
hysterics, but Daniel caught a note of strength in her fractured voice.

Eris raised an eyebrow at Hailey, who was visibly shaken by the Goa'uld's 
threat.

"All right," Hailey agreed.

"N-no," Llew whispered, but Eris clamped her hand harder around his 
throat.

Daniel balled his hands into fists, but forced himself to stay calm; for 
Llew's sake. Hailey opened the vault, and brought out the Adamantium 
chest.

"Open it," Eris instructed. "And give the stone to the girl."

Cassandra looked up through a veil of tears.

"No way," Daniel insisted.

"You're killing this boy," Eris told him, in a slightly playful, sing-
song voice.

"It's okay, Daniel," Cassandra told him, balling a fist behind her back. 
She rose shakily to her feet, held out her right hand, and took the box 
from Hailey. Llew's eyes flickered open as Cassie approached, and she 
looked into them, willing him to understand. He looked back, his fear 
plainly as great as hers, and he nodded, ever so slightly.

Eris smiled encouragingly at Cassie, and held out her clawed hand for the 
box. "Don't be afraid, child," she said. "I won't hurt you."

Cassie edged closer, and suddenly, Eris lashed out, and snatched the box 
from her grasp. At that moment, with the Goa'uld's weapon temporarily 
immobilised, Llew twisted away from the woman with all his might. Eris 
clung to him with inhuman strength, but for a moment he was not standing 
in front of her, and that was all Cassandra needed.

Anger, Hailey had suggested. Hate, rage; all that dark side stuff. Well 
Cassandra had them now; in spades. //Come to *my* world? Come into *my* 
home? Attack *my* friends? Hurt *my* not-quite-boyfriend?// She flung out 
her hand, still wrapped in the Goa'uld ribbon device, and shrieked a 
wordless curse as she let her righteous fury uncoil at the Goddess of 
Spite.

Llew felt the edge of the blast, and staggered sideways. Eris was flung 
backwards, caroming off a bench and landing in a heap. Fortunately, she 
released Llew's arm as the blast hit, or it might have been wrenched from 
his socket. Lab benches shook, gas taps exploded into plumes of flame, 
and glassware shattered, as the cone of destruction spread from 
Cassandra's palm. As the wave struck the wall, it shuddered, and a 
trickle of plaster dust sprinkled down.

"Holy Hannah," Cassie whispered, then she pitched sideways, catching 
herself hard against a lab bench. She pushed woozily off, and moved 
towards Eris.

"Careful, Cassie," Daniel said. "She could still be conscious."

Heedless of the warning, Cassandra crouched unsteadily beside Eris, and 
reached out to feel her pulse, a sick feeling spreading in her stomach. 
"I think she's d..."

Eris' eyes opened, and burned with white fire. With an incoherent shriek 
of fury, the Goa'uld lashed out, and caught hold of Cassandra's shirt. 
Daniel was frozen, rooted to the spot for vital seconds, unable to do 
anything to stop whatever was about to happen. Cassandra cried out, and 
tried to back-pedal, but still weak from her exertion, she spilled onto 
her back, and the Goa'uld came with her, looming over her, one hand 
clutching her shirt front, the other locked tight around the box.

Then light flared, and the lab filled with a colossal, deafening boom. 
Daniel's vision whited out for a second, and when his eyes cleared, he 
saw Eris toppled onto her back again, several yards from Cassie. Amy 
Kawalsky's stolen uniform was torn, and a great burn-mark scarred the 
front of the jacket. The Goa'uld's hair stood out on end, and the whole 
room smelled of ozone.

"You. Bitch," Eris hissed, struggling to her feet and switching the box 
to her unclad hand. Cassandra looked too stunned to respond, and too weak 
to rise, and it might have gone very badly with her if Daniel had not 
slammed into the Goa'uld, just as she raised her hand device.

Daniel drove Eris against the wall with his initial rush, and followed up 
with a left hook to the jaw. It surprised him how easily it came to him 
to punch a girl in the face, but since Hathor he had found it possible to 
look at a Goa'uld and barely see its human face at all. Unfortunately, he 
sometimes forgot just how inhuman they were. As Daniel cocked his fist 
for another punch, Eris recovered herself, and drove her knee into his 
side with enough force to lift him off his feet.

Eris thrust Daniel away from her, and extended her claws again, but found 
Lieutenant Hailey closing on her. Not having time to unsling one of the 
guards' carbines, she had settled for a telescopic baton, and laid about 
Eris with a thorough professionalism. The Goa'uld screamed and spat 
abuse, raising her armoured hand to defend herself. The baton struck the 
gem on the rear of the gauntlet, and it lit up from within. Smiling 
maniacally, Eris struck like a serpent, latching onto Hailey's wrist, as 
the light of the 'Kalliste's' transporter beam surrounded them both.

"Hailey!" Daniel shouted, but the young woman was gone, along with Eris, 
and the runestone. Daniel kicked out in raw frustration, sending a litter 
bin flying across the floor, ricocheting off the walls and benches, and 
nearly hitting General Hammond as he burst in with a security team.

"Dr Jackson? What in the hell happened here?" Hammond asked.

As Daniel went over to explain, in a tight, despairing voice, Cassandra 
felt sensation return to her body. She struggled up, and found gentle 
hands helping her. "Thanks," she said.

"Thank *you*," Llew replied.

Cassie looked around at the ruined lab and the flaming gas taps. "I did 
all that?"

"Most of it," Llew said, smiling a gentle, bemused smile. He hardly 
seemed able to take his eyes off Cassandra.

"Are you okay?"

I'm fine," he said. "It's just. You were incredible. You put her down, 
twice."

Cassandra smiled back at him. "Not twice," she said. "The second time, I 
could barely move my arm, let alone muster another kick like that. No, 
what put her down was..." She reached under her blouse, and for the first 
time, Llew saw that there was a small hole burned through above her 
breast bone. She pulled out the Mjollnir pendant that he had given her; 
the one that he had worn for as long as he could remember. It was 
glowing.

"It's never done that before," Llew told her.

"Well, it saved my hide today," Cassie said. "You said it was for 
protection, right?"

Llew grinned. "Right."

Cassie hung the pendant around Llew's neck. "I think you should have it 
back now," she said. "I wouldn't want to hog the divine providence."

Llew smiled, affectionately, and took hold of Cassie's hand. "Thank you," 
he said, sincerely. He raised her hand, and pressed his cheek against the 
gem in the centre of the ribbon device.

Cassandra's smile deepened, and she leaned towards Llew. By now, she 
figured she ought to know better.

"Cassie, Llew; are you okay?" Daniel asked.

"Uh, yeah," Cassandra replied. "Just tired, and a little dizzy."

"What happened to Hailey?" Llew asked.

Daniel looked down. His expression was hard to read behind the bandages, 
but he looked despondent. "She's gone. Eris took her. Now they have two 
hostages, and we have *nothing*."

Cassandra looked up at Daniel, into the eyes that were all that was 
visible behind the bandages, and shivered at the despair that she saw 
there.

                         *******************

"Boy are you guys a sight for sore eggplant," Newman greeted Sam, Hnoss 
and Thor as he was brought into what passed for a briefing room in the 
scavenger warrens. It had a table, and a set of mismatched chairs.

"Eggplant?" Hnoss asked.

Setneb looked awed, but Turaca did not seem amused. "Perhaps we should 
have *your* injuries seen to?" He suggested to Hnoss.

"That would be most welcome," she replied.

Turaca motioned for the others to sit, while he put his head out the door 
and flagged down someone to escort Hnoss to the infirmary. Then he joined 
the others at the table. "So, Sam Carter; you said that you have a plan?"

"I said I may have a plan," Sam demurred. "In fact, it's more of a proto-
plan; it needs a lot of fleshing out. First of all, Thor; I need to know 
what's really going on. Plainly, there's more than just Jormungandr to 
consider."

"We did not expect anyone to have survived," Thor admitted. 
"Jormungandr's rage was so great, so unfocused. If he broke our 
control..."

"That's where Gerrid came in," Turaca said. "She was the one who gave him 
focus."

"We knew that the defences were still active," Thor continued. "Primarily 
from the loss of the 'Gungnir' and her crew. That was a terrible day for 
our people; twenty-five Asgard lost; the most in a single stroke since 
Baldur's ship was destroyed by Loki. We ceased our efforts to return to 
the surface of Muspel after that time; had we known that others survived, 
we would not have given up so easily."

"Well, others did survive," Sam told him. "And Jormungandr's been using 
the supply transporter to bring more and more people here to create an 
army of ersatz Jaffa to man his father's death ship. In terms of weapons, 
he seems mainly to use ones like the scavengers have stolen..."

"Accelerated particle weapons," Thor said. "Primitive, but easy to 
construct and quite deadly. Also, a few compression pistols; non-lethal, 
but effective."

"I'm also worried about what he might have got from that ship," Sam 
admitted. "Anything he might be keeping for a special occasion. I'm 
assuming no transmitters or they'd be gone, but what about weapons?"

"Asgard weapons could not be used by a Goa'uld or a Jaffa," Thor assured 
her.

"Great, but these aren't *real* Jaffa," she explained. "He may be lining 
them up for implantation when he gets off this rock and finds himself a 
nice Goa'uldish girl to settle down with, but for now he has no prim'ta." 
She looked Thor straight in the eyes. "Tell me, Thor; what weapons might 
he have access to?"

"The primary arsenal of the 'Gungnir' incorporated two heavy particle 
cannons, six heavy plasmas and eight kinetic torpedo launchers. In 
addition, the 'Gungnir' was armed with an ionic ram, capable of 
completely incapacitating an unshielded Goa'uld Ha'tak vessel in one 
hit."

"What if it was shielded?" Newman asked.

"If the vessel were shielded when struck, it would not be afterwards."

"Could Jormungandr be using these weapons?" Sam asked.

"The plasmas, perhaps," Thor replied. "The power supply needed to run any 
of the other weapons would be more than that available to the city of 
Muspel. In any case, heavy plasma cannons are relatively ineffectual 
against infantry. Although they have a substantial impact area, they are 
slow to target."

Sam breathed a sigh of relief.

"However," Thor said. "The 'Gungnir' also carried thirty Type-III plasma 
pikes in its armoury, for the use of the crew. A single shot from a 
plasma lance is less powerful than a blast from a Goa'uld staff weapon, 
but the lance is capable of sustained and burst fire modes."

Sam breathed deeply. "Okay. So we are facing an enemy with a large number 
of fanatical guards, armed with accelerated particle weapons, compression 
pistols, as many as thirty Asgard plasma pikes and an unknown number of 
heavy cannon. Our enemy is within a heavily fortified pyramid, has a 
brilliant and ruthless second in command, and is himself a brutal killer 
with the power to snap any of our necks with an energetic shrug. Also, we 
need to take him alive. Our objective then is to penetrate said fortress, 
and as a primary goal, neutralise the defences so that Freyja can send 
help from the 'Stupid Idea.' That done, we incapacitate Jormungandr, and 
extradite him for questioning.

"In our favour, we have an Asgard who knows how the central machinery of 
this prison works, Turaca's people, who know the lay of the land well 
enough to keep out of Jormungandr's sight, our own accelerated particle 
weapons and compression pistols, two Asgard combat gauntlets and a 
hammer." Sam sighed. "It doesn't look great, I'll admit."

"Do not underestimate this hammer," Thor advised.

"These plasma pikes," Turaca said. He held his hands some eighteen inches 
apart. "Are they about so long, silvery-grey?"

"They are," Thor replied.

"We managed to secure about a dozen from one of Jormungandr's salvage 
teams," Turaca said.

"Eleven," Setneb said. "But we have never managed to make them work."

"They are designed with significant safety features," Thor told them. "I 
can show you how to expand and fire the weapons."

"I also have another idea, that I hope might be useful." Setneb passed a 
battered hand computer to Turaca, who looked, and then passed it on to 
Sam.

"This will be very useful," Sam confirmed.

Setneb smiled uncertainly, then beamed when Turaca nodded his agreement.

"This is a lot more promising," Sam said. "Turaca; do you have any plans 
of the fortress?"

"Yes," the scavenger leader replied. "Several workers defected during the 
construction, and our Che'fer converts have kept us more or less up to 
date. I'm afraid there are no real weaknesses though."

"I'm hoping we won't need one," Sam said. "But I will need to see those 
plans."

"Right away," Turaca said, starting to rise.

"I'll go!" Setneb insisted, leaping to her feet. "You...shouldn't," she 
said, a quiet anger burning behind her eyes.

 Turaca slumped wearily in his chair after she was gone.

 "Another thing," Newman said. "I managed to get in contact with Kim. 
Only briefly - he thinks his comms are being monitored - but I was able 
to find out that Yukio has infiltrated the fortress. She has arranged a 
time to contact Kim using narrow-band communications. If we relay 
whatever we decide to him before them she can co-ordinate with us to 
disrupt their defences."

 Sam nodded. "That's good. I expect that's going to be key." She turned 
to Turaca, who seemed mired in a deep funk; not at all the dynamic leader 
they had seen until now. "Is this trouble we should know about?" Sam 
asked.

"It's...personal," Turaca replied. "I...Call me when Setneb brings the 
blueprints," he sighed. "I'll just be next door." He rose, and walked 
out.

After a moment, Sam got up to follow Turaca, but Newman beat her to it. 
"Carry on making plans," he told her. "I'll see what I can do."

"You're sure?" Sam asked.

"Guy talk," Newman told her.

Sam nodded. "Thanks," she said.

                         *******************

"You want to talk about it?" Newman asked, settling himself on the edge 
of a table. The room was obviously used for storage, and was cluttered 
with furniture and boxes of scavenged machinery.

"Not really," Turaca replied. "You wouldn't understand."

"Okay," Newman said, holding up his hands in acceptance. "Obviously you 
don't have a problem with her treating you like a god then."

Turaca looked up, unshed tears shining in his eyes. "That obvious?"

"Not very," Newman admitted. "But I know people, and leaders. You know, 
it's not surprising that they look up to you. You've got the stuff; I'd 
take an order from you without question."

"I don't like it," Turaca replied. "Things I've done - things I've said - 
have sent people to die."

"Welcome to officer's country, my friend. It's what we do. 'It is the 
duty of every soldier to give his life for his country when required, and 
it is the duty of every officer to decide when that ultimate sacrifice is 
needed. No officer has ever served in the field of conflict without 
loosing men. No officer has ever served in time of war without sending 
men to die. Whether we can look at ourselves in the mirror depends on 
knowing that we would not send those people to die without reason.'"

"You make that up yourself?" Turaca asked.

Newman shook his head. "Eulogy for Lt Colonel Arnold Baxter by Major 
General Jacob Carter. Words I tried to live by; and pretty much screwed 
up. I let the goal become a cause. I was sending people into danger for 
the wrong reasons, and they went because they trusted me. Sound 
familiar?"

Turaca smiled, ruefully. "Oh, yes. My family have been running the 
resistance since the beginning. We were trastars," he explained. "That 
is, we were given certain privileges in return for..."

"I know what a trustie is," Newman assured him. "Major Carter may never 
have been in jail, but I have."

"This General Jacob..."

"Is *Sam* Carter's father," Newman confirmed. "I was looking up to him 
long before I met his daughter."

"Whom you are in love with."

"Hey," Newman protested, but affably, and making no denial. "Who's 
analysing who here?"

Turaca smiled. "It's not hard to see. You took a shot for her, for which 
you look quite well, by the way."

"My suit sucked up most of it, and I heal fast," Newman demurred. "But 
yeah, okay; I've been in love with her for about four years, which is 
about three years longer than she's known I exist. I'm sure you 
understand this makes things awkward."

"Not really."

"For two years I read every file there was on her, every report she ever 
submitted, every review she was ever given," Newman explained. "Women 
don't usually find that kind of behaviour attractive; least not where I 
come from. But anyway, we're talking about you. Your family were 
trastars?"

"Yes," Turaca replied, becoming dour once more. "People looked up to us, 
and when father began to believe that the Sky Folk would come to save us, 
everyone else began to believe as well. It gave them hope, so I did not 
try to stop it at first, but then I realised that now all anyone is 
trying to do is survive until the Sky Folk come. Worse than that, they've 
started to see my family and the other trastars as prophets."

"Which is why Setneb doesn't like to see you take orders from Sam," 
Newman realised.

"Yes. Or even advice. Even if she is Sky Folk. She was taken from a 
Goa'uld world as a child, and is even more prone to superstition than the 
rest of us. I've tried to tell her that there are no gods, and that I'm 
certainly not one, but it's the only thing I've ever said to her that she 
hasn't absorbed as gospel. And she's so clever, otherwise. So full of 
ideas and plans. She probably knows technology better than I do."

"And you're in love with her," Newman finished. "Why don't you tell her?"

"Because..." Turaca paused.

"Because she sees you as an infallible god-prophet and would fall into 
your arms without a thought, whether she cares about you or not?"

Turaca shrugged, helplessly.

Newman sighed. "For God's sake man; the girl adores you," he said. "Maybe 
if you showed some sign you felt the same she could start seeing you as a 
man instead of a legend."

"You think?"

"I do think," Newman said. "But either way, you're right about one thing: 
It is personal. You've been working with her long enough that this isn't 
going to have any unforeseen impact on your performance."

"*Newman*," Sam's voice sounded in his ear. "Setneb is back; we need to 
get moving again."

"We'll be right out," Newman replied.

                         *******************

Loki sat in his daughter's chambers, watching the sarcophagus. While Hel 
had worked on the treatments, and he had amused himself with the Tau'ri 
woman, he had ordered Eris' servants to prepare appropriate attire for 
his child. After she performed the operation on herself, her body seemed 
to shut down, and she passed into death. Loki then had her repulsive form 
dressed, and placed within the regenerative chamber. The 'Utgard' had no 
fewer than five installed sarcophagi, much more powerful than the 
portable versions, including this one, and Loki's own. He had designed 
the ship to be a home to his family, after all, and there were five of 
them: Loki, Angrboda, Jormungandr, Hel, and even the boy, Fenrir.

Loki felt a bitter sting that his kin were not all assembled. According 
to Hel, there was no way to retrieve Fenrir from his exile, and even the 
loss of his most disappointing child was a hurt to Loki. But it was the 
death of his beloved Angrboda that hurt the most. Beautiful, powerful and 
magnificent, she had wielded power to challenge even his own, and that 
was what made her intoxicating to him. Angharad Midhir was beautiful and 
spirited, but she was also frail and weak, and however amusing she might 
be for a time, Loki would soon grow bored of her; like that silly whore 
Sigyn, who had haunted his imprisonment with her incessant prattle.

With a sharp hiss, the sarcophagus began to open, heralding his 
daughter's rebirth. Loki stood, expectant.

"My Lord." A Jaffa entered the room behind him.

"Leave us," Loki said. Silently, the Jaffa left; a wise move on his part.

The sides of the sarcophagus lowered, and the top swung open like the 
wings of a great bird. Loki remembered, fondly, watching Angrboda rise 
from her sarcophagus, refreshed from her sleep. Sometimes, they had even 
shared a sarcophagus, the strange dreams brought to each of them by 
continuous use of the device mingling into a single, shared experience.

Slowly, Hel rose, serene and sensuous, her features concealed beneath a 
muslin shroud. Loki went to her side and sat, and drew the sheet from her 
head. As he did so, he caught his breath in shock.

"Father," Hel greeted him. "Did it work."

"Work?" Loki asked, stunned.

"It did not?" Hel asked, appalled, touching her face, trying to determine 
what was wrong.

Loki reached out and cupped her cheek. "It worked," he told her, awed. 
"But we had forgotten...how much you look like your mother."

He bent down, and kissed her in a manner that was anything but paternal.

                         *******************

Sam studied the blueprints of Jormungandr's fortress, having Turaca point 
out all of the entrances that the scavengers were aware of. Setneb 
watched, glowering sullenly as her leader yielded to the Sky Woman's 
authority.

"You say there's a way in and out at the back?" Sam asked.

"An outflow pipe," Turaca replied. "The fortress is plumbed into the old 
sanitation systems. It's not pleasant, but you can get in, and there's a 
trash heap which covers the approach."

"Lovely," Newman commented."

"We use it when we need to sneak one or two people in," Turaca explained. 
"It would take a long time to get a large force through. We could be left 
vulnerable if we try it."

Sam nodded. "What else is there in the way of entrances?"

"A rear sally port," Turaca said. "But that only opens from the inside."

"We could use that," Sam said. "If we can get a small force inside, then 
get to the sally port, we could mount a major offensive. How many 
fighters can you muster?"

"At short notice?" Turaca asked. "Maybe fifty or sixty; perhaps twice 
that given three or four days."

"We'll have make do," Sam said. "Gather who you can, and arm the best 
shots with the plasma pikes. Thor will show you how to use them."

"Alright," Turaca agreed.

Setneb snorted in disgust, and stormed out of the room.

"Turaca," Newman prompted.

"I'll speak to her later," Turaca promised. "For now, I need to put the 
word out to the other settlements. Even for fifty it will take some time 
to gather everyone together, and I need to send someone to the main 
armoury with a sled."

Sam nodded. "Alright. But time is critical here. I'd say we have to move 
within six hours at the very outside."

"Very well," Turaca agreed. "But we'll need all of that time. Also...I 
don't think you should come with us," he added.

"What!" Sam demanded.

"You are an engineer, and Thor is a Haskar. Jormungandr would give 
anything to get hold of you two. I don't want to risk you falling into 
his hands."

Sam shook her head. "Sorry, Turaca. No dice. We *will* be there..." She 
paused, and a slow grin spread across her face. "But you have given me 
something to think about."

                         *******************

The hall of Jormungandr was dark. His pyramid had been built as a 
fortress, and its windows were few and small. By deliberate design, the 
only illumination in the throne room itself came from an inaccessible 
skylight, high on the side of the pyramid, which cast a dim shaft of 
light onto the throne from behind, allowing the Serpent to see his 
visitors far more easily than they could see him. Nidhogg, the Primarch 
of Jormungandr, first among his Che'fer, was used to this effect, and by 
long practice it was no great matter for him to make out the massive 
silhouette of his master, and even to judge his moods. For the luckless 
souls whom Nidhogg brought into his master's presence, it was sometimes 
difficult to be certain if the taciturn Lord of Muspel was present at 
all.

In this case however, there could be no doubting it. As the scavenger was 
dragged to the foot of the throne, Jormungandr was in the middle of his 
meal, leaning forward over his table and shovelling half-cooked meat into 
his titanic maw from a silver platter. His dark amber eyes looked up at 
the approach of his Primarch, and they glowed white.

"Who is this?" Jormungandr asked.

"A scavenger, Lord," Nidhogg replied. "She says that she has information 
that she wishes to sell."

"And why would we wish to purchase that which we could take?" The Serpent 
hissed, leaning even further forward, and resting a great, clawed hand on 
the table.

The scavenger stammered. "B-because in the time it t-t-takes to extract, 
it will become worthless."

"Really." The voice dropped to a throaty, almost sensuous purr. "Come 
forward," he instructed, beckoning with a blood-stained claw.

Nervously, the woman advanced, flinching as she saw the human skull amid 
the other remains of Jormungandr's meal. When the Serpent stroked her 
hair, leaving blood trails amid the blonde, she almost fainted, but her 
legs held and she remained standing.

"What is