This was much more Jack's sort of thing. Or Teal'c's. Of course, Jack couldn't generally find his way out of a goa'uld mother ship without a map. But he would at least make a good show of it. Maybe if he'd been planning to blow the ship he was on up, it would be easier. A tiny little robot suddenly zipped up to him, stopped, and then shot him with something. "Hey!"

It ran away a moment later, and Daniel shook his head. Whatever it had shot him with, it had only stung for a second. And unless it was a horribly infectious disease, he should be all right. With his luck, it would probably be an STD.

"Nobody move!" At least, that's what he figured the voice was yelling. He wasn't completely certain, because it wasn't a language he recognized.

Then again, maybe his luck was in.

After all, he might still have his hands manacled (Chiana had only bothered seperating his feet), but he did have a gun.

Peeking around the corner, he saw one of his captors holding a weapon on a group of people. It took less than a second to debate with himself about shooting the man in the back. They had been planning to sell him. Something told him that made them bad people.

The shot wasn't hard to do, after all, after 8 years on SG-1, he'd learned a few things about guns (Jack had taken him to the firing range until he could actually hit a a target, and Sam took him back every month since--when they weren't injured. Plus, fighting for your life gave a whole new edge to not wasting amunition). The impact was quick, the stench of burning flesh reaching him even as the half-man, half-thing folded into a boneless heap.

"Hey." The dark-haired man nodded at him. "Thanks."

Daniel eyed him for a moment, then looked down at the man he'd shot. "Is he dead?"

The brunette woman viciously kicked the slumped figure. "If he isn't, he will be soon." Her inflections were strange.

It took Daniel a moment to realize. "You're not speaking English, are you?"

"Look, we can have the--"

"Commander Crichton, Colonel Carter has been taken captive by the last bounty hunter. He is saying he will kill her if you do not all do as he says." This was a different voice, and Daniel could feel the flavor of something else underneath the words.

If he hadn't been worried about Sam, he might have actually bounced for a moment with geekiness.

"Right, Pilot." The man held out a hand for the gun.

"Uh..."

"You can trust us. Really."

Eyeing the assembled bunch for a moment, Daniel briefly considered the wisdom of this. Then he shrugged and handed over the gun.

"Not Wynona, but it should do."

"Uh, excuse me?" Daniel held out his still-manacled hands.

"Oh. Right. Hold 'em to one side."

The blast was brief, and Daniel winced. There would probably be burns on his wrists. Still, better than being all tied up.

"D, I want you and Aeryn to swing around the other side. Make a stop in quarters and get armed. Spaceman Spiff--"

"Daniel."

"Right, Daniel and I will wait for a few minutes, then come in on the other side."

The tall tentacled being nodded, and he and the brunette woman left, jogging away down the corridor.

"C'mon, Spiff."

"Daniel."

"Yeah, whatever."

Daniel made a mental note that he really really hated people. Really. Then he followed the man back into the corridors of the ship.

-

The shootout was swift.

"Well..."

"I think," Sam looked like she was having a hard time standing, "that their personal shields were linked to their ship."

"And you blew it up."

"Yeah." She half-smiled. "I also think I'm gonna pass out now."

-

Sam was really getting tired of being shot and poked and prodded and dosed with drugs.

"At least you weren't chained up for a week," Daniel informed her from his own bed in the medical bay. He and the crew of Moya had successfully killed one stupid bounty hunter in a well-orchestrated crossfire. If Sam hadn't had his gun in her temple, she would have thought it was overkill.

"Bite me, Daniel."

"Oooh," he mocked, "Tell me where."

She rolled her eyes. "I need to be up. I need to be calculating and figuring this out!"

The archeologist sighed, "Sam. We're safe, for now. And you're recovering from burns and a concussion and a sprained shoulder."

A mutinous look entered her eyes, "Don't make me hurt you, Daniel Jackson."

"Besides," he continued, as if she hadn't spoken. "Either the three of them are perfectly safe or they're already dead."

The matter-of-fact words made her flinch, and she looked away. She didn't want to think that they were dead, odds were, since they were SG-1, they were alive. With extra luck, they were safe. She didn't like to contemplate the alternative.

"Hey, campers," John Crichton breezed in, eyeing them both. "Pilot says we're approaching a commerce planet. Anything you two need while we're down there?"

"To go with you?" suggested Daniel with a hopeful look.

"Nope. I let you off this ship, you'll either get captured, tortured, or killed."

"That happens to us on Earth," Sam said dryly.

"What kinda planet do you two come from?"

"Well, we're at war," Daniel started. "And--"

"Daniel." Sam cut him off and half-smiled at John. "I don't suppose they have coffee out here? Daniel tends to go insane without it."

"Hey!"

"Sadly, darlin', no, they don't. It's sad, too. Look..." Looking between them, John sighed, "I don't want you to think you're under house arrest or anything, but Granny said you," he pointed at Sam, "shouldn't be moving anyway. And Spaceman Spiff here--"

Sam giggled.

"Hey!"

"But it's perfect, Daniel."

Glowering, the archeologist muttered something under his breath.

Sam raised an eyebrow at him, "I didn't hear that, Dr. Jackson."

"He said--" John stopped, smirking, "Never mind. I'll leave you two kids to bicker. Try not to blow up the ship."

"She already blew up one ship, AND a sun. You sure you can trust her alone?" Daniel asked, his tone sour.

"You--she blew up a sun?" John was now really staring at Sam.

"Once. And it was with help." Sam hedged.

"Don't tell Aeryn, she'll be jealous."

"Right."

"Gotcha."

John waved a hand, "Right. I'm off. Don't keep the home fires burning."

They were silent until there was nothing to hear again but the soft subtle heartbeat of the ship. Then Sam dragged herself out of bed, ignoring the twinges and focusing on how nice and cool the floor was on her bare feet.

"What are you doing?"

"Going exploring. I need paper, or something." She shifted, trying not to twitch her shoulders. "There's something there, Daniel. I know what time I came through, and an approximate for you. And the spacial thing. And I think..." her voice trailed off and she stared down at the bed.

"Think what?" He prompted when she'd been silent for too long.

"I think I can calculate where the others are."

"Right."

She nodded, "I'll catch you later, Daniel."

There was something driven about her, driven and strangely exhausted. But Daniel let her go. She seemed to be able to find her way around Moya much better than he could. "Pilot?"

"Yes, Dr. Jackson?" The formal tones of whoever it was that ran the massive ship were oddly soothing.

"Could I... Could I come and visit with you?"

"Visit?" The pilot sounded confused.

"Uh, yeah. I'm an anthropologist, and Crichton said something about you being bonded with the ship, and I find symbiotic relationships somewhat fascinating..." He stopped and half-smiled, "And I sound like a geek, as Jack would say."

"I am... flattered, Dr. Jackson." Pilot said, his voice careful, almost tentative. "However... Moya and I were subjected to many rounds of questioning along similar lines when we were visiting Earth not very long ago."

"Oh!" Daniel reached up and pushed his still-working, but slightly battered, glasses up his nose. "Um... Could I come tell you stories, then?"

"Stories?" Now, the Pilot sounded interested.

"Of the different races and cultures I've catalogued and encountered over the years."

"That... There is a DRD in the hallway. If you will follow it," Pilot requested, his tone strange, "It will lead you to my den."

"As Jack would say, cool."

A small little yellow sentinal was waiting in the corridor. It waved its antennae at him, then set off down the corridor. He watched the walls and the floors, but eventually gave up. He'd have to let the others lead him around, since there wasn't any sense of direction here. It wasn't like a tomb, which had certain mathematical intricacies in its design that designated what went where and which corridors were safe.

Daniel hadn't been sure what to expect from the Pilot. It (he?) was not human, but it could be anything, bonded to a living ship (and that still flabbergasted him). What he got was a very very large crustacean-like being, with calm eyes and a swift deft movement of its four limbs.

"Hello."

"Dr. Jackson."

For a moment, they eyed each assessingly, then Daniel carefully scrambled up onto one side of the console apparatus, crossed his legs, and began telling stories.

-

"You are here to see the two men on the mountain?" The voice was hushed, sly.

John eyed the surrounding crowd, trying to find the source. "Uh..."

"You will want to. For they speak in tongues and wear strange clothing." The voice gave a giggling choking sound, and John eyed the wrinkled old man Aeryn was holding her pulse pistol on.

"Hey. An old man. Now, why does this seem familiar?"

"Don't know." Aeryn shook him, "Tell us about these holy men?"

John loved it when his girlfriend read his mind. Of course, part of it was that they were extra-suspicious because of their two new guests. John was reserving judgement on Daniel Jackson, although he sensed the man was something of a geek. Possibly a pacifist, too. His tale of being mistaken for John Crichton had almost been amusing. Still didn't explain how the damn bounty hunters had found them. And while that disturbed him, he had Sam Carter to worry about. She'd risked her life for them--and gotten injured. That was pretty solid. And at least she wasn't spouting crap about protecting John Crichton, Master of the Universe. Or wars. He really didn't want to think about wars.

He also didn't want to think about having left Earth behind for good.

There was the baby, though. And Aeryn. And these two holy men.

"They live on the mountain!"

"Uh-huh. Look, Pontius," John pointed at him, "Take us to them."

The man nodded rapidly, then turned. He led them through a series of back alleys until they came to a massive building. Ironically, it was called 'The Mountain'. John glanced at the entrance, then looked at Aeryn.

She tossed him a shrug.

"I'll be back in a bit, honey."

The interior was oddly lit, reminding John of the Delvian temple they'd come across a few cycles back. A half-grin twisted his lips. The Delvians had been simply one of many to frell with his mind. Down a side corridor, he could hear two voices. One was deep and calm, the other was slightly higher.

"I'm telling you, Teal'c, we have to--"

"Jonas Quinn. There is nothing that you can do for me." This voice was also patient. "The tretonin has run out. Without it, I shall die."

"Damnit, Teal'c, I am not--"

"Excuse me." John smiled at the two men in what he hoped was a disarming manner. The man with the deep voice was tall and dark, muscles apparent even in his robe-clad arms. The other man was slightly shorter, projecting a strange air of naivete and something child-like.

"Yes?"

"Y'all," he drawled, "Wouldn't happen to be members of SG-1, would ya?"

The younger man stiffened, "I--you--" he looked at the other man. "Teal'c, I think--"

"Jonas Quinn," the other man said, his dark eyes fixed on John. "This man is speaking English."

"Oh. Hey! He is! You are--anyway." Jonas Quinn blinked.

"So, if'n you boys would like to see the rest of your friends, you might wanna come with me."

"We are going nowhere with you."

"Crichton." Aeryn's voice chirped from his com.

"Yo."

"There is... trouble. I believe we need to leave, and leave now."

"Baby, there's always trouble where we are." He looked at the two men. "I have a Sam Carter and a Daniel Jackson, if those names mean anything to you, you'll come with me. Now."

Teal'c studied him for a moment, then stood and inclined his head. "Lead the way."

Not that it was that easy. Oh, no. First there was a fire fight. And then a run through city streets. And then a huge argument in the pod that the two newcommers couldn't follow because they had no translator microbes. And then Teal'c made the mistake of pissing Aeryn off, and there was a scuffle. And in the ensuing chaos they almost didn't notice the gunships closing on them.

"Pilot!" John let his urgency color his voice, "We're coming in hot, with bogeys on our tail. Get Moya ready to starburst the instant we're settled in the bay."

"Of course, Commander."

D'Argo made a strange sound, "I believe I was supposed to be captain?"

"Right. You can give the orders next time, D. Sorry."

They settled in the maintenance bay moments later, and John felt the unmistakable shift and surge as Moya jumped into starburst. Without needing to talk, John and D'Argo each took a side of the large unconscious black man they'd picked up on the planet. His companion was eyeing them with something approaching curiosity while Aeryn held her pulse pistol on him. Carefully.

"Really, you guys didn't have to go to all of this trouble," the kid said. "I mean we weren't--"

"Look," John paused as he and D shifted their burden down the steps of the pod. "I meant what I said. Sam and Daniel are here. And they're not prisoners."

"Ah. And General O'Neill?"

"Haven't met him." John winced. The guy was *heavy*. Noranti appeared in the hallway, bustling towards them. "Granny! Got a new case for you, and I think there's more than the nasty boot to the head Aeryn gave him."

"Oh dear, oh dear," the old woman wafted up on a wave of stench. "Yes. I see. Drugs used badly, though not well. Bring him!"

"Hey--" The kid stopped, then looked at the pulse pistol Aeryn was still pointing at him. "Fine. I'm following."

"Pilot?"

"Yes, Captain D'Argo?"

"Where are our two guests?"

"Dr. Jackson is in my den with me. He has been... explaining Earth's idiosyncracies to me. Colonel Carter is currently in Commander Crichton and Officer Sun's quarters."

By-passing the need to question the latter statement, D'Argo said, "Fine. Whatever. Send Dr. Jackson back down to the medical bay. And a DRD with translator microbes."

"Yes, Captain."

-

Part 4
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