TITLE: Gift Exchange
AUTHOR: Tiffany Park
EMAIL: anderson7836@comcast.net
STATUS: Complete
CATEGORY: Humor, Adventure.
SPOILERS: A couple of oblique ones for "Emancipation," "In the Line of Duty," and "Spirits."
SEASON: Set sometime in Season Two, a little after "Spirits."
RATING: R, just on general principles.
CONTENT WARNINGS: Language, lewd and crude behavior, innuendo, mild sexual situations, and non-graphic nudity. Silliness abounds.
SUMMARY: After gating to P2Z-494, SG-1 and SG-3 find that the local queen and the local hooch make for a potent combination that they just aren't prepared to swallow.
ARCHIVE: Please ask.
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 for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Many thanks to my beta reader, Rachelle, who came up with some...interesting...ideas.

The image on the monitor displayed cultivated fields of crops and hedged pastures filled with grazing livestock. A few miles beyond, a large collection of buildings, surrounded by a tall, stone wall, was sprawled out at the base of a tall bluff, at the top of which stood a castle that overlooked the city and the bucolic scenery.

"Pretty place," O'Neill commented. He and the rest of SG-1 were seated at the briefing room table. The four members of SG-3--Colonel Makepeace, Lieutenant Johnson, Gunnery Sergeant Andrews, and Lance Corporal Henderson--sat opposite them. General Hammond presided at the head of the table. Everyone had open folders before them, but at the moment their eyes were fixed on the monitor.

"Looks kind of peaceful," Jackson added.

Makepeace snorted and said, "If it were all that peaceful the locals wouldn't have put those walls around their city."

It was a struggle, but O'Neill managed to restrain himself from making a nasty, and no doubt expected, remark about Makepeace's ability to state the obvious. Makepeace looked faintly disappointed and cocked a querulous brow at him for his self-control, but O'Neill kept his notoriously loud mouth shut. Over the last two years, General Hammond had made his disapproval of overt displays of inter-service rivalry during briefings well known to all the usual suspects, and O'Neill had no intention of irritating the general unnecessarily.

Hammond ignored the by-play, which was subtle enough that anyone not versed in the two colonels' peculiarities probably wouldn't have spotted it. "SG-4's survey of P2Z-494 indicates large deposits of trinium ore," he said. "We've been ordered to attempt to negotiate a trade agreement with the natives. They appear capable of smelting iron ore into a crude form of steel, but trinium processing is beyond their present capabilities. The ore should be valueless to them at this stage in their development, so hopefully a suitable arrangement will be possible to obtain."

"Sounds simple enough, so what's the problem?" O'Neill asked. "Why all the extra manpower?" he added, with a nod of his head to indicate the members of SG-3, who also looked curious. "Just because the city's got a wall? Doesn't look like there's been any trouble there recently." Indeed, the landscape looked amazingly well tended, lacking any sign of recent conflict: the livestock were fat and contented, rather than dead and rotting; the fields green and ripe instead of trampled and burned; and most importantly, no bodies were lying about. That last was usually a dead giveaway.

"Perhaps, but according to SG-4's report, the natives are somewhat warlike," Hammond replied. He touched a control and the picture on the monitor changed, to display two large hordes of armed warriors, mounted on heavily muscled warhorses that were armored and caparisoned like something out of a medieval nightmare. The two groups charged at one another, swords and shields raised, screaming battle cries. "This might just be a local contest or tournament, but SG-4 decided to return here for further instructions. They managed to get these shots before they left. As you can see, the warriors are female."

"Really? This culture might be a matriarchy?" Jackson peered at the monitor and frowned, obviously displeased by what he saw. "I don't recognize the armor," he said slowly. "It's like some bizarre mixture of Roman, and early Middle Ages, and...."

"And what?" O'Neill prodded him.

Jackson squirmed in his seat. He averted his eyes as he said, reluctantly, "To be honest, that whole scene reminds me a little of Xena or a Red Sonja movie or something."

Carter bit her lip and looked down at her hands. The members of SG-3 snickered.

Teal'c asked, "Red Sonja?"

"I'll explain later, Teal'c," O'Neill promised. "We'll rent some movies when we get back." Makepeace openly guffawed at that, and received a sharp glare in return.

Hammond cleared his throat loudly. Everyone settled down at the nonverbal warning, since the alternative was the traditional and somewhat stereotypical duty of cleaning the latrines with a toothbrush. Hammond's ire was legendary, and he'd used that particular punishment in the past when certain individuals got out of hand. It was a well known fact, as well as a source of tremendous amusement to the entire base, that even full-bird colonels weren't exempt.

"Your mission is to make contact with the leaders of the native population and determine if a mining treaty is feasible."

"Sir, shouldn't treaty negotiations be handled by SG-9?" Carter asked.

"Normally that would be the case, but at present they're off-world. Also, they are an all male team, and it looks like females hold the military power on this world. They may very well hold the political power, as well. I'm hoping that your presence will alleviate any gender issues that come up. You'd better be prepared to act as Earth's spokesman."

Carter nodded and allowed a slight smile to cross her features. O'Neill sighed and drawled, "And the Marines are coming along because--?"

The general scowled at him. "Due to the martial appearance of the natives, I'm sending SG-3 with you to provide some extra firepower and protection. However, there will be no confrontations unless provoked," Hammond said sternly. "None of you will fire first. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir," O'Neill and Makepeace chorused.

"Very well. All available intelligence about P2Z-494 is documented in your folders. I expect you to review the material thoroughly. You'll depart at 0800 tomorrow." With that, Hammond rose and dismissed the two teams.

At 0805 SG Teams One and Three stepped out of the Stargate and into the warm, clear air of P2Z-494. The MALP had measured the average daily temperature to be an uncomfortable eight-five degrees Fahrenheit, and O'Neill could find no reason to dispute its report. Beads of perspiration started popping out of his pores within a few moments of his setting foot on the planet, and the BDUs, vests, and assorted gear he and his team routinely wore for these kinds of recon and "meet'n'greet" expeditions only trapped the heat close to his skin. The heavy body armor and combat gear that SG-3's members sported must be killing them, but to their credit, not one of them complained.

O'Neill wiped the sweat from his forehead and took his bearings. The Stargate was situated in a large clearing that was surrounded by trees and brush. A wide gravel road led into the woods. According to SG-4's report, they should be able to follow the road a few miles to the city and fortress, where, hopefully, no one would shoot at them.

Makepeace nodded to his people, and they quickly fanned out to secure the area, their movements precise, so well rehearsed as to be choreographed, and very professional. Almost immediately, Henderson called out, "Colonel, we got company!"

Both O'Neill and Makepeace swiveled their heads toward him. Before either could utter a word, a number of warriors, carrying swords and crossbows, stepped out of the brush and surrounded the two SG teams. Some of the warriors wore leather armor sewn with steel rings, a few others wore chain mail. All were women, and all were uniformly tall, athletic, and looked extremely strong. Their faces were set like stone.

By reflex, everyone in the Earth party, including Daniel, raised their weapons. A sound came from within the woods, of hooves clomping on dirt and gravel, and a troop of warriors, riding great warhorses and armed with swords, lances, and shields, rode forth on the road at a leisurely pace. They encircled the clearing and lowered their lances as though preparing to charge, but held their mounts steady.

"Well, this sucks," O'Neill muttered under his breath.

"You know, this crap never happens to us," Makepeace quietly said to him. "Must be your karma or something. Thanks for the fallout," he added sarcastically.

"Hey, any time," O'Neill shot back. "Always glad to share."

One of the mounted warriors, a tall woman wearing an impressive amount of chain mail and plate armor, prodded her mount forward a few steps and gazed at them sternly. Her scarlet cloak billowed out behind her. The two colonels shut up and waited. The woman spoke in clear, imperious tones, "I am Captain Aresh of the Queen's Guard. If those ungainly things you are holding are weapons, I advise you to lower them."

"And if we don't feel like doing that?" O'Neill asked her. "These 'ungainly things' can do a lot of damage."

"You desire battle?" The woman looked at him as though he had sprouted a second head, and a touch of amused condescension crept into her voice. "How unusual. But ultimately futile. I have the advantage of numbers. You are surrounded, and there are many archers hidden among the trees. There are only eight of you. Surely you would be dead before you could kill us all, no matter how lethal your weapons."

"Jack, would you please shut up," Jackson hissed as he pushed his way forward. He nodded respectfully to the lead warrior and raised a hand in greeting. "Please, there's no need for violence. We're peaceful travelers. My name is Daniel Jackson, and these are--"

Aresh blatantly ignored him, instead focusing her attention on another member of her party, an archer in shades of brown and woodland green. "Are they the same?"

The woman nodded. "Yes, Captain. They wear the same garb as those who came before, and carry the same accoutrements."

"Excuse me. What exactly are you--" O'Neill began.

"Be silent," Aresh ordered him sharply. To Carter she said, "Your men are quite ill-mannered. Have they never been taught their proper place? This is hardly the time for male prattle."

Carter goggled at her, speechless at the treatment of her CO. O'Neill bridled, but Jackson grabbed his arm and whispered, "Jack, easy." O'Neill's expression was thunderous, but he nodded and shot a warning look at the equally indignant Marines before they also decided to enter the fray.

Disregarding the reactions her words provoked, Aresh pursed her lips and stared hard at Carter. "None have passed through the Gate of Dagoth in living memory, and now in but a handful of days we have two such visitations. I ask you, what do you here?"

Carter started as she suddenly realized that Aresh assumed she was the leader of the Earth delegation. She should have thought of that earlier--Hammond had specifically mentioned that might be the case here--but it had never happened before and she had simply forgotten. The Gate of Dagoth? Aresh must mean the Stargate, Carter realized. She answered Aresh honestly, "We intend no hostilities. We've come merely to trade, and to propose an alliance of mutual benefit to our peoples."

"Then why did your first party hide and then flee from us?"

"They were only scouts," Carter replied, thinking quickly and coming up with what she hoped was an innocuous explanation. "They fled from you because they didn't want to get involved in the battle they witnessed."

"Battle? There has been no war here for over two years." Aresh looked momentarily confused, then her expression cleared. "Ah, yes, now I understand. You refer to our training exercises. Your people were in no danger, I assure you. We certainly wouldn't deliberately harm defenseless men."

Deciding that Aresh didn't need to know that SG-4 had most certainly not been defenseless, Carter simply said, "Thank you for that."

Aresh acknowledged her thanks with a brusque nod. "You said you wish to trade?"

"Yes. We have medicines, technology, that I'm sure your people would find very useful."

"In exchange for?" Aresh asked leadingly.

"You have a mineral here that could be of use to us. We'd like permission to mine it," Carter replied.

"This mineral has value, then? Like gold?"

Carter shook her head. "No, not like gold. In fact, from what we can tell, your people don't use it at all. We alloy it to other metals...." She stopped herself as she belatedly realized that spilling the beans about how valuable trinium was to Earth could nix their chances of getting a halfway decent deal. This sort of thing just wasn't her usual bailiwick, and she was starting to feel out of her depth. She'd never even been able con her neighbors into buying Girl Scout cookies when she was a kid, so how the hell was she supposed to negotiate a favorable treaty between two planets? Yet she had to pull it off somehow. She was probably the only member of the Earth party that the natives would even consider talking to.

This experience promised to make defending her doctoral dissertation look like a cakewalk. Gnawing the inside of her cheek, she glanced back at her companions. With the exception of Teal'c, they were looking bemused and a touch irritated. Small wonder, considering the deprecating attitude Aresh had displayed towards them. At least they'd had the sense to keep their mouths shut.

If Aresh noticed Carter's slip, she gave no visible indication of it, and while she never actually smiled, over the course of the conversation her countenance had lightened somewhat. She turned to the warrior to her left and commanded, "Ride ahead and inform the queen. Swiftly." The warrior saluted by thumping a fist to her chest, then wheeled her mount and galloped off down the road.

Aresh turned her assessing gaze back onto Carter. "I have no authority to negotiate anything with you. Only Queen Ro'jel has the power to make treaties with foreign sovereignties. However, under circumstances such as these, I am empowered to escort you to Castle Naeryth, so that you may present your proposal to our queen directly. If you and your party would accompany me?"

It was phrased as a polite request, but Carter got the distinct impression that it was actually an order. The end results of a refusal were likely to be ugly. Carter again glanced back at her teammates. There was no objection to be found in any of them. Both O'Neill's and Jackson's eyes held approval--one cautious, the other enthusiastic. Teal'c was as impassive as ever, and the Marines wary but willing. She turned back to the waiting warrior. "We would be honored, Captain Aresh."

The journey to the castle was made on horseback, but very little time was saved by this measure. Due to the local biases, only Carter and Teal'c warranted mounts of their own, even though neither was a particularly experienced rider. The rest of the team was relegated to riding pillion behind the warriors. All the animals were kept to a walk and occasionally, a slow trot, as Captain Aresh felt that a faster gait might jar the men off the horses. It wouldn't do to dump one's guests into the dust.

Privately, Makepeace fumed about the riding arrangements, knowing that the warrior women considered mere males to be incapable of controlling the overly spirited animals on their own. Captain Aresh had stated as much, and there was nothing he could do but grin and bear it. His only consolation was that the rest of the Earth men were also stuck in this humiliating position. The indignation inherent in O'Neill's posture alone almost made the uncomfortable ride worthwhile.

Makepeace repressed a smile at the sight of Lieutenant Johnson, who was about as large as Teal'c, mounted behind one of the warriors with his arms wrapped around her waist and a long suffering expression on his face. It wasn't as incongruous an image as might be imagined--after all, the woman was at least as tall as he was and wearing some pretty impressive armor.

When the method of transportation had first been announced, Makepeace had winced slightly, fairly certain that he'd need to curb some bad behavior from his men. There had been a few ribald comments about big-assed women, but they were kept low, and a single dark glance was enough to quell them. Then the women dismounted and the Marines had quieted of their own accord.

"Jesus Christ," someone had muttered.

There was no question about it--these women were big. The smallest was easily six feet tall and muscled like a professional body builder on steroids. They all carried the heavy armor and weapons with effortless grace, their style of movements and body language made it clear they were highly trained in the arts of war. All in all, they exuded a brazen confidence in their ability to take on all comers.

Makepeace would have been amused by his men's stunned silence if he hadn't felt a little intimidated himself. It was an uncomfortable experience, and he didn't like it one bit. Judging by the looks on his men's faces, they felt the same. At least it wouldn't be necessary to remind them that this was a diplomatic mission and they needed to behave themselves. Everyone kept their mouths shut, mounted up with some unwelcome assistance from the warriors--Makepeace was sure the one that boosted him onto the warhorse had copped a feel; that particular grope couldn't possibly have been accidental--and the entourage got underway.

They had been riding along the gravel and dirt road through a number of fields, some tilled and cultivated with a variety of crops, others filled with livestock, and now came to the walled city of Naeryth. They passed through the gates without hindrance, into the cobbled city streets, and through the organized chaos of a bustling open air market. Men and women scurried to and fro conducting business, merchants hawked their wares at the top of their lungs, here and there a beggar pleaded for a coin or two. Occasionally children ran alongside the horses, calling up to the warriors. Captain Aresh ignored it all and led her party along a road that wound up the far side of the cliff to the great fortress that overshadowed the city.

"I take it this is Castle Naeryth?" O'Neill asked as they rode into the castle's courtyard. The fortress's defensive position and armaments met with his approval, with allowances made for this world's level of technology. Because the castle sat upon a sharp and narrow bluff, three of its walls were completely inaccessible to assault from anything but mountain goats and birds. The fourth wall faced the not inconsiderable slope they had just ridden up, and was heavily fortified. Guards walked along the ramparts and stood watch in the towers, which provided an unimpeded view of the countryside for miles. "Sweet. Bet you could hold off an army for months in this place."

The warrior he was riding behind chuckled a little. Aresh looked back at him and smiled tolerantly, as though he had said something surprisingly clever. "Indeed, our people have done so many times since it was built."

"Really."

"You need not worry. We are at peace now." Aresh shrugged. "I don't deny that could change, but Queen Ro'jel has established many blood bonds with our neighbors. That usually suffices to keep the peace unless a great insult is made. I doubt we will be attacked while you are in residence."

"Oh, I wasn't worried. Just making an observation."

"Of course," Aresh said with a poker face that O'Neill could only envy. She reined in her mount and swung off its back. A group of servants--mostly women, although there were a few men in the group--came running to take charge of the horses. "Come. Let us go within."

The rest of the warriors dismounted and then each woman helped her passenger down. O'Neill thought the hold on his waist lingered just a little too long, but before he could remark on it the warrior gently steered him after Aresh. Out of pure orneriness he quickened his pace until he felt the hand that had been resting at the small of his back fall away. The warrior snorted softly but didn't press the issue.

The group walked through a massive doorway and into an enormous hall constructed of gray stone. Aresh immediately turned to the right and led the company through a series of torchlit corridors. After the heat outdoors, the interior of the castle was relatively comfortable.

"It's bigger than it looked from the outside," Johnson mumbled, looking around.

O'Neill silently agreed. The place was huge, and filled almost to overflowing with people who rushed through the corridors on some task or another. There were also a number of armed guards positioned at strategic points throughout the complex. These people might not be at war, but it was clear they were taking no chances.

At last they came to a set of intricately carved double doors, flanked on either side by more hard-eyed guards. An elderly lady waited in front of the doors and bowed her head respectfully. "These are the visitors from the Gate of Dagoth?" she asked.

"They are," Aresh replied.

"The queen awaits within the great hall, and has been fully appraised of these visitors and their desires. The audience may begin immediately."

"Good." Captain Aresh turned to her charges and told them flatly, "You may not take weapons into the presence of our queen. You may leave your arms out here. They will be well looked after, and you may retrieve them when you depart." Her tone indicated that there could be no argument.

A startled Air Force captain, an impassive Jaffa, and four disgruntled Marines all stared at O'Neill. He, in turn, redirected the heat to Jackson. "Well, Daniel, you're the big expert on foreign cultures. What do you think?"

Jackson made a face and said neutrally, "I think we won't get to see this Queen Ro'jel unless we comply with their customs."

That much was obvious. O'Neill weighed the pros and cons in his head. Being unarmed was a definite minus, but this was supposed to be a diplomatic mission, after all. That meant making nice with the natives. There was also the trinium to think of. "Okay, people, let's take off the gear," he said. When everyone still hesitated, he added, "All of it."

There were grimaces all around, but both teams moved to comply. It took a few minutes for SG-1 to strip off their gear and carefully pile it against a wall. Then they turned and waited for SG-3 to finish. It was a longer wait than expected, as it appeared that each Marine carried more equipment than all the members of SG-1 combined. A lot more.

O'Neill eyed the ever-growing collection of weapons and assorted survival tools with mild amazement. He knew SG-3 was always loaded for bear, but he'd never quite realized just how well armed they were on missions before. How long had it taken these lunatics to secrete all that extra hardware on themselves? And where the hell did they put it, anyway? This was ridiculous.

As a few more lethal trinkets were added to the heap of weaponry, he asked dryly, "Were you guys planning to take on the entire Republican Guard or something?"

Makepeace just gave him a droll look and held up three fingers in the Boy Scout salute. "Be prepared, that's our motto," he intoned.

"Right," O'Neill drawled, drawing out the word for emphasis.

When everyone was down to BDUs, they were escorted into the great hall, where they paused a moment to take in its splendor. The name did the room justice. Its ceiling arched high overhead and was decorated with carvings and tile mosaics in colorful, geometric patterns. The floor and walls were of polished white marble that was veined with gold. Candles, torches, and oil lamps were scattered about the hall in profusion, and the tapestries that adorned the walls almost glowed in the warm light.

The hall was filled with finely dressed people, mostly women, but a few men were also present. They stood in small clusters and watched the newcomers curiously. The women wore calf length tunics of various cuts, sandals, and heavy jewelry. The men's garb was somewhat briefer. Their tunics were sleeveless and only fell to mid-thigh, and they wore even more jewelry than the women.

"Courtiers, I would guess," Daniel murmured.

"Daniel, what do you make of all this?" Carter asked quietly.

"I don't really know. I have to admit, this culture's got me stymied. Bits and pieces of it are familiar, but the rest just seems to have gone its own way."

"Do you think it was some kind of experiment?"

"Maybe," Daniel said doubtfully, "But these people are a lot better established here than the cultures we've found that the Goa'uld were experimenting on. They might have been transplanted, but they've obviously been left to develop on their own. I wonder if their original culture might not have been the basis of at least some of those legends about tribes of warrior women, like the Amazons. More cultures than just the Greeks had them, you know."

"Amazons?" O'Neill scoffed.

"I'm just speculating, of course, but is it really any weirder than aliens posing as Egyptian gods?"

No one even bothered to try to answer that. They were given another moment to gawk, and then Captain Aresh was leading them through the great hall, with every eye in the room following them speculatively. At the far end of the hall was a low dais, upon which rested a carved and gilded chair cushioned with silken pillows. A regal woman was seated on the chair and stared at the newcomers with an unreadable expression.

Aresh stopped before the dais and bowed deeply. A court functionary stepped forward and rapped her staff sharply against the floor. Before the sound had died away, she announced in clear, ringing tones, "All honor to Ro'jel ell'Hastreth Knyan Sitaarn, queen of Naeryth and Astarsis, guardian of the holy Gate of Dagoth, beloved daughter of the twin goddesses Beret-Illit and Beryn-Semat."

Carter tensed at that last title. Beloved daughter of twin goddesses? These days the mere mention of gods and goddesses equated with Goa'uld in her mind. Both SG-1 and SG-3 were completely unarmed--how would they defend themselves if they were attacked? Her eyes slid from left to right, searching for any sign of Jaffa or Goa'uld technologies, but there was nothing. She even tried that weird new sense that Jolinar had left her, the ability to detect Goa'uld, but again, nothing.

Jackson recognized her concern and whispered into her ear, "Don't worry, Sam. She's not a Goa'uld. Historically, it was pretty common for Earth royalty to claim kinship with their deities."

Carter relaxed marginally as his words sank in. She knew her reaction was due more to habit than anything else. During the ride to the castle, she had engaged Aresh in conversation and learned that these people had never even heard of the Goa'uld, but that pretentious introduction had thrown her. She heard Jackson reassuring the others and snorted softly. Probably every one of her teammates had freaked, at least for an instant. Relieved of the sudden fear that disaster was about to strike, Carter turned her attention to the imperious woman on the dais.

Queen Ro'jel ell'Hastreth Knyan Sitaarn was in her mid to late twenties, with close cropped, dark curly hair and shrewd brown eyes. Carter studied her warily. Aresh had warned her not to make the mistake of equating the queen's relative youth with inexperience. Ro'jel had assumed the throne when she was seventeen years old and had led her people through two major wars and the extensive rebuilding that followed. In Carter's opinion, it showed. The eyes that stared out of that unlined face held a heavy streak of cynicism at the ways of the world.

Aresh bowed again. "My queen, allow me to make known to you Captain Carter of Earth, who has journeyed to our realm through the Gate of Dagoth."

Carter's mind raced in circles as she frantically tried to come up with an appropriate form of address for greeting a queen. This was usually Daniel's purview, but plainly a response was expected of her. She decided to take her cue from Aresh and executed a quick bow. "My queen."

"Greetings, Captain Carter of Earth," the queen responded in a mellow, cultured voice. Carter gaped at her, unsure how to proceed.

As though sensing her confusion, Aresh murmured softly, "Captain Carter, it is for you to present your men to Queen Ro'jel."

"Oh. Oh, right." Carter really wished these people would talk to Daniel. Such well established royal protocol as this was completely outside of her experience. SG-1 had previously only encountered royalty in much smaller and more primitive communities; none of the petty kings of her experience ever maintained such a large and formal court, nor had they such well developed lands, cities, or--Carter stole a sidelong glance at Aresh--armies. For all the pretension, though, at least she and her teammates weren't required to kneel. That was a distasteful piece of protocol the petty kings never, ever forgot to insist upon. The difference, Carter mused, was likely a matter of relative power--this queen was so secure she felt no need to flaunt her authority in such a crude way.

Carter took a step forward and bobbed her head in what she hoped was a respectful gesture. "Queen Ro'jel, please permit me to present the rest of my party." She was quite pleased with herself for that phrase--Daniel couldn't have done better, she thought. Perhaps this wouldn't be so awful, after all. As she made the introductions, the queen's speculative gaze touched upon each man in turn, lingered there as though assessing his relative merits and drawbacks, then moved on.

Something about her examination of the men made Carter uncomfortable. The queen seemed almost too interested in them, particularly Teal'c and the Marines. Was it just another facet of this culture? These people had a sexist attitude about men in general, and they obviously applied it even to foreigners. Carter herself had been the object of similar scrutiny by various men many times in her life. She wondered if the guys found it as irritating as she usually did. Probably not. They were guys, after all. They probably liked it.

Then those knowing eyes fixed on Carter and scattered her irrelevant thoughts to the four winds. She had to struggle to keep from squirming. So this is what a butterfly on a pin feels like, she thought wildly to herself, even as she fought to maintain her most dignified expression. The piercing gaze lightened and queen smiled brilliantly.

"I welcome you and your entourage to my court, Captain Carter."

"Thank you, my lady. It's an honor to be here." Carter repressed a wince as the clumsy words spilled from her mouth. Okay, that had sounded pretty lame, even to her own ears.

Queen Ro'jel graciously overlooked the awkwardness. "You have journeyed quite far to come here for the purposes of trade. Tell me what it is you desire so greatly, and what you have to offer in exchange." With that statement, she leaned back in her throne and waited, once again surveying the entire party before focusing her attention directly on Carter.

Wow, cut right to the chase, why don't you? Carter thought, careful not to display her surprise. No mention of rest or refreshment for dusty travelers, no offer of even a chair, nothing, nada, zip. The queen obviously wanted Carter to negotiate while she was tired, no doubt to get the best bargain for herself and her people.

Not on your life, Carter swore silently. She'd get a good deal for Earth if it killed her. Swallowing her irritation, she calmly began to explain about trinium and how Earth would like permission to set up a mining operation on this world. Her words were a little hesitant at first, but her confidence grew as she saw that she had the queen's rapt attention. She went into great detail about what a Terran mining operation was like, that it would be relatively small, and how environmentally conscious the miners would be. She pointed out that Ro'jel's government would be well compensated for both the ore and the inconvenience. The whole court clustered close, listening intently as Carter and their queen discussed the various options.

During the course of the conversation, Carter was pleased to discover that, unlike the inhabitants of PXY-887, these people had no taboos against active mining. In fact, they engaged in it themselves for any number of valuable minerals. The queen's primary concern on that issue was the number of foreigners on her soil that would not be under her control. Carter emphasized that her sovereignty would be maintained, her laws respected. Additionally, the land would be reclaimed when the mining was done, and the Earth government would even help her people to resettle a mined out area at its own expense, or put it to whatever other use the queen saw fit.

At this point, Carter asked for and received permission to have Daniel retrieve her pack. She pulled out a lump of ore so the queen would know exactly what the Earth wanted from her planet--one of the samples SG-4 retrieved on their earlier visit that she had had the foresight to bring along for just this purpose. The queen summoned one of the palace smiths, who confirmed that this particular ore was unused, and indeed, was unusable for any purpose of theirs. Unlike iron, the smith explained, which could be smelted with charcoal and then hardened and tempered to produce the steel that was used in weapons, this material defied all attempts at processing. If these strangers could find a use for something so worthless, she sniffed, then there was no reason that she could see to keep it from them.

After that, the discussion moved on to the items that Earth was willing to trade. Carter did not mention weapons. These people had enough of those already. She kept to the relatively benign topics of medicines and agriculture and tools. "For example," she pointed out, "we can show you ways to improve the yield on your farms and strengthen your herds. There are also more hardy and nutritious plant stocks that we can trade."

Those things were, naturally enough, of great interest to the queen and quite a few members of her court, but they preferred to focus most closely on what were, to them, new antibiotics, such as penicillin. Medicines that could cure infections were of great interest to a warrior culture. There was a good chance that a common soldier injured in battle would weaken and die, thus requiring the expense, both in terms of money and time, of training up an inexperienced and untested replacement. It would be much better to keep the existing soldiers alive, if at all possible, and minimize recruitments.

So much for avoiding the topic of weapons, Carter thought with a sigh. The Naerythians were so geared to warfare that they could find a military application for just about anything. She really wished that Daniel was doing the negotiating--she was certain he'd do much better at keeping things on track, and probably get a better deal for Earth while he was at it, too.

More experts were called into the court to give their opinions as to the value of what Earth had to offer. As the discussions wore on, and on, and on, Carter found herself wishing for Jackson's help more and more often, but a graceful opening to include him in the conversation never materialized. The queen was devious, calculating, and single minded as she picked Carter's brain to determine whether it would be worthwhile to make a treaty with Earth, and she permitted no interference in her intense question and answer session.

As if the interrogation itself wasn't hard enough to endure, sometimes the queen would, for no real reason that Carter could fathom, indulge in a sudden fit of violent temper over what seemed nothing more than an irrelevancy, and then, just a suddenly, become calm and reasonable, if demanding, once again. Carter figured the queen did it just to keep her off balance, to try to shock her into revealing any possible hidden motivations that might be to Naeryth's disadvantage, but even so she still worried that she was somehow screwing things up and that, in retaliation, Ro'jel would throw them off the planet empty handed.

Carter let out a soft sigh and rubbed her eyes. Daniel lightly touched her arm and murmured, "You're doing fine, Sam. Keep it up." She gave him a half-smile. He'd taken to doing that whenever her uncertainty became too apparent, whenever she stammered or started to falter or otherwise showed the strain, and she was damned grateful to him. Hearing that kind of encouragement from the team's acknowledged expert at intercultural interactions always steadied her enough to continue. She also noticed that, the rest of the time, he somehow managed to keep the others from interfering and perhaps saying something embarrassing or offensive and unforgivable. Even O'Neill stayed quiet--well, mostly, but at least his mutterings weren't loud enough to be overheard by anyone not standing near him. Carter could have kissed Daniel's feet for that.

Finally, the interview was at an end. Carter felt as exhausted as though she'd just run a marathon. She glanced at her watch, and realized with a start that almost two hours had passed.

Two hours! Carter's exhaustion gave way to indignation. The queen had kept them all standing for the whole time! No wonder she was tired. There were words for people who pulled stunts like that, but Carter prided herself on not needing to resort to the nastier forms of profanity to express herself. Usually. She drew a deep breath, wondering if any of it had been worthwhile, if she'd accomplished anything at all, and after getting her temper under control and marshaling what remained of her energy, looked up at the queen.

That royal personage was sitting back in her throne, tapping her chin thoughtfully with a ring laden finger. Carter was vindictively pleased to see that Ro'jel also looked a little weary. The queen beckoned to several of the women nearest the throne; they ascended the dais swiftly and some quiet words were exchanged, then the women returned to their places.

"Very well," Queen Ro'jel finally said. "I find your proposal to be most attractive and potentially of great benefit to my realm at large. It would be foolish not to take advantage of it. We shall have the diplomats and the accountants work out all the niggling details, which I am sure," she added archly, "will be numerous and complicated and take no small amount of time and effort to settle. Then the scribes may draw up a formal agreement between us. I believe that no more remains but the matter of surety."

For a moment Carter could only gape. Then, grinning like an idiot, she enthused, "That's great!" She couldn't believe it! She, Samantha Carter, failed Girl Scout cookie saleswoman, had actually convinced a powerful extraterrestrial monarch to make an advantageous trade agreement with Earth. It was fantastic! It was terrifying! Then she sobered a bit, realizing that a more formal response was required. "Thank you, my lady. You won't be sorry. I'm sure you'll find tremendous benefits from trading with Earth. As for finalizing the agreement...." Now that she thought about it, all those details that Queen Ro'jel had casually spoken of sounded far too onerous and intimidating for one person to take on. No way was she going to be stuck in the long, drawn out haggling sessions to come. The queen had a staff to handle such matters, she should be allowed to have one as well, or at the very least an assistant who was far better versed in the arts of dealing with cultural peculiarities and the picky aspects of negotiations than she was. She reached back and touched Daniel's arm. "I'd like to offer the services of my, uh, my companion, Doctor Daniel Jackson. He's got all the experience needed."

Almost laughing aloud at Carter's eagerness to escape the role of negotiator, Jackson stepped forward and bowed. "Queen Ro'jel--"

"This one?" the queen interrupted, with a note of incredulity.

"Ah, yes," Jackson said, alarmed by the queen's abrupt change of mood. He exchanged a concerned glance with O'Neill and Carter, then asked, "Is that a problem?"

"No," Ro'jel said carefully, her face composed into a neutral mask. "I was just a little surprised. I suppose...." She directed an intent gaze at Carter and retreated into the safety of formality. "I find him acceptable."

Carter blinked. Was the queen annoyed because she had foisted a man into the negotiations? Men weren't held in very high regard here; maybe it was completely inappropriate to put one into such a responsible position. She supposed she should have waited until they could ask General Hammond to send a suitable woman or two through the Stargate, but it was too late for that now. "Thank you," she said, knowing the words were inadequate, but with no idea how to correct the blunder.

"Queen Ro'jel," Jackson said in his most conciliatory tone, "I will do my utmost to follow your rules and customs. We did not mean to give offense. Please don't be angry."

The queen smiled at him. "I'm not angry with you," she told him gently. "Go with the attendants, and they shall see to your needs." At her gesture, two men, dressed in skimpy tunics, sandals, and silver jewelry, appeared from a side alcove and bowed.

Jackson glanced back at his companions. "Jack?"

"It's your call, Daniel," O'Neill replied, looking less than thrilled with the turn of events.

"Well, when in Rome...." Jackson shrugged.

"You need not fear for him," Queen Ro'jel assured them. "We are not barbarians, after all. He will be well treated."

"He better be."

"Jack, relax," Jackson said, holding up a hand. "It's okay. I'll see you later." He followed the two attendants from the throne room.

The queen smiled broadly. "You are now my honored guests. Tonight there shall be a great feast in celebration of our prosperous new agreement. Until that time, you may rest and refresh yourselves." She clapped sharply. Several female guards joined Captain Aresh, each armed with a heavy spear. "Escort my guests to the western chambers," Ro'jel instructed them, "and provide them with whatever they require."

"What now?" Makepeace asked uncomfortably.

O'Neill shrugged. "When in Rome," he tossed off, and made a sweeping "after you" gesture. Makepeace grimaced but followed after the guards. The rest of the group trailed behind him.

They paused outside the hall to collect their gear, then were led down several long hallways to a spacious and luxuriously appointed chamber, and told that someone would be with them in a few minutes. As soon as their escort was gone, Makepeace grabbed O'Neill's arm and hustled him to the far end of the room, out of earshot of the others. "We need to talk," he growled softly.

O'Neill shook off the hand roughly. "What the hell are you doing?" he demanded, but he kept his voice down, well aware that any dissension between team leaders should not be aired in public view.

"I should ask you that very same question," Makepeace returned with displeasure.

"What are you talking about?"

"Jackson," Makepeace replied succinctly. "Tell me, O'Neill, do you always let your team get split up like this?"

O'Neill shrugged. "If the situation calls for it."

"Well, I don't like it."

"You don't have to like it. Look, I'll let you in on a little secret: I don't like it either, but Daniel's the expert so we're stuck with it. He said it was okay, so it must be okay. That good enough for you?"

"Why just Jackson? Why not Carter, too? She was the one that did all the talking."

"Hell, I don't know. Maybe the stuff that's left is just for servants or something. The top women here probably don't get involved in the nitty-gritty. They probably think it's beneath them, and since they think Carter's one of them...." O'Neill let his statement trail off suggestively.

Makepeace scowled but didn't continue the argument. Instead, he merely shook his head in disgust and walked back to where his men had settled, muttering under his breath about karmic fallout and half-wit zoomies who always needed rescuing.

"Guess this kind of crap never happens to you jarheads, either," O'Neill commented to himself as he made his way to his own people. He dropped onto a floor pillow and stretched out his aching legs.

Both teams had the common sense to pretend to ignore the minor altercation between their respective COs. An uncomfortable silence descended upon the group as they furtively glanced between the two colonels, both of whom were obviously in a snit. Carter and Johnson shared an exasperated look, each wondering if they should do something to placate their grumpy superiors. The problem was that there really was nothing to do but wait, and neither O'Neill nor Makepeace took well to that kind of inactivity or lack of control.

Finally, insecurity drove Carter from her seat. She crossed the short distance and sat down next to O'Neill. "Sir, did I screw up? If Daniel's in any danger...."

"Nah, you did good, Carter. You got us the trinium. I was pretty impressed. Queenie didn't exactly make things easy for you."

"But Daniel--"

O'Neill shrugged. "Like I told Makepeace, Daniel said it was okay. You know he loves playing ambassador. He's probably happy as a clam, doing all that talking stuff he loves right now. I bet he'll have the gory details all hammered out by dinnertime."

Before Carter could reply, the chamber door swung open and a middle aged man, dressed in toga-like clothing that hung past his knees, entered and bowed. "I am Suryan, your steward," that worthy announced. "Queen Ro'jel has sent me to attend to your needs. Is there anything you require?"

Carter could have kissed the man for his timely appearance. "Can you tell us where Daniel is?" she asked eagerly, hoping the answer would put everyone's minds at rest. "Is he all right?"

Suryan looked startled by her question. "Of course, he is all right. No one will dare to harm him. He is under the queen's protection. He'll have nothing but the very best, I assure you."

"Can we see him?"

"You will see him at the feast tonight," was Suryan's reply. As he spoke, two serving men, one carrying a bowl of fruit, the other holding a tray with a tall, metal pitcher and a number of goblets, came in and set their burdens on a side table. An arrogant looking old woman with three young male attendants followed in their wake. The attendants all carried baskets filled with cloth and jewelry and vials of liquid.

"What's this all about?" O'Neill asked suspiciously.

"This is Tyrech," Suryan said, gesturing gracefully to the old woman, "clothier to the royal household."

"What?"

"The queen thought you might feel less conspicuous tonight if you were all dressed in a manner befitting your status."

"Status?" Makepeace echoed.

"Yes, while I am certain those...garments...you wear," Tyrech said, wrinkling up her nose, "are perfectly fine for your homeland, they will stand out in a most unfortunate way at a formal state affair."

The two SG teams all stared, first at one another, then at Suryan and Tyrech, completely nonplused by the offer and the insulting manner in which it had been couched. Teal'c appeared unaffected, but Carter found herself wincing as she recalled the last time she'd been coerced into native dress.

Tyrech noticed their discomfort and rushed to reassure them. "Never fear. You will be quite stunning when I am through with you. I am, after all, responsible for attiring the queen's husbands on those occasions they appear in public," she added proudly.

"Did she say husbands?" Henderson whispered to Johnson and Andrews. His eyes wide as saucers.

"My lady?" Suryan queried to Carter. "Should we proceed?"

"Oh," she said with a jolt, once again reminded that these people believed her to be in charge of the Earth delegation. She hedged, "I suppose it should be a group decision. What would the rest of you like to do?"

The two colonels exchanged a skeptical glance. Makepeace made a face indicative of his displeasure with the whole idea, so naturally O'Neill felt compelled to say, "Well, it can't hurt to take a look at what they've got. 'When in Rome,' ya know." He turned to the clothier and added, "Bring 'em on."

Makepeace looked pained.

Jackson was guided to a secluded area of the castle that the attendants told him was the men's quarters. There he was greeted by another male servant and escorted into a luxurious bath chamber. The servant helped him to disrobe and then left him to soak in pleasant solitude.

He leaned back in the warm water and closed his eyes. The pool he was soaking in was shaped like a large rectangle, sunken into the marble floor and tiled with elaborate designs. Great billows of steam rolled off the surface of the greenish water. By the strong smell of sulfur and other minerals, he deduced that the bath water was piped in from a hot spring somewhere nearby. The room itself was faced with veined, polished marble and decorated with inlays of lapis lazuli, jade, and other precious materials. Even the benches that lined the walls were carved from marble. The arrangement and decor were not unlike the old Roman baths. It seemed self-indulgent almost to the point of decadence, but if this was how the locals treated negotiators, or even their assistants, well, who was he to complain?

A small sound off to one side made him open his eyes and turn his head. A middle aged man, wearing nothing but a few pieces of gold jewelry, waited just inside the bath chamber near a second set of doors. "Hello?" Jackson said politely. "If you're waiting to use the bath--"

The other man smiled gently and shook his head. "No, you needn't concern yourself about that. I am here to welcome you on Queen Ro'jel's behalf."

"Oh. That's nice. I'm Daniel Jackson, from Earth."

"Yes, I know. I was informed of your arrival. I am Charin of Reue."

"Well, I'm glad to meet you, Charin of Reue." Jackson got out of the bath and glanced around. "Ah, where are my clothes?" The servant must have taken them, he realized.

"You won't need those ugly things here," Charin said with distaste. Apparently, olive-drab wasn't an approved color.

"What do you mean by that? Is this some custom of yours?"

"Well, I guess you could say that. No one bothers with clothes in the men's quarters. It's more than warm enough, and quite private, I assure you." Charin picked up a fluffy white towel from a bench and handed it to him. "Here, dry yourself with this."

Jackson quickly dried himself off, then wrapped the towel around his waist and tucked in one end to secure it. "I don't think I'm quite ready to let it all hang out," he mumbled.

"As you will. I'm sure you'll grow accustomed in no time." Before Jackson could question further, Charin gestured to the door and added, "Please, come into the common room."

Having no better options, Jackson reluctantly followed Charin through the doorway, then stopped dead just inside the enormous chamber. Charin hadn't been kidding when he'd said this was a clothing optional environment. The room was filled to the rafters with naked men, or so it seemed to Jackson's startled eyes during that first shocking impression.

After what felt like an interminable amount of time, but was really only a second or two, he found his voice. "Okay, now I'm seriously weirded out." He decided it was a stroke of good fortune that his glasses had been removed with the rest of his clothes. A slightly blurry perspective on things was definitely for the best, at least for now.

In actuality, he realized when his brain started functioning again, there were seventeen men, including himself, most of whom were engaged in various innocuous activities. Off to one side, one man was strumming a stringed instrument reminiscent of a lute and producing a melody that sounded vaguely Middle Eastern. Another sat on a bench, lovingly polishing a wooden longbow. A number of newly fletched arrows rested beside him, collected together in a fine leather quiver. Across the room a group was clustered together, gossiping and laughing.

None of the men was entirely naked--they all wore at a bare minimum a few pieces of jewelry, many wore much more, and two or three of them were walking chandeliers--but whether they should be considered completely nude or not was surely a matter of semantics. Jackson decided to regard the situation as some kind of weird locker room, and diverted his attention by examining the furnishings and decorations, trying to place them in the context of an ancient Earth culture. That proved an exercise in frustration, since the place reminded him more of the set on a Conan movie than anything else, with its eclectic mixture of styles and influences, from Hyperborean to Roman, and more than a few that surely never originated on Earth, even in the realms of fiction.

A young man broke away from the chattering group and hurried over, asking eagerly, "Charin, is this the new one?" Without pausing for the older man's reply, he went on in an excited rush, "I am Yophres of Venjarra. I was told you come from another world. You are the first to do so in thousands of years. You must tell us of your homeworld. What was your life like there?"

Rendered momentarily speechless by the rapid spate of words, Jackson could only stare at Yophres incredulously. He was possibly eighteen or nineteen, with curly blond hair and leaf green eyes that were in startling contrast to his warm, mocha skin. He was also one of the walking chandeliers, and his every movement was accompanied by the jingle of metal and gemstones.

"Yophres, this is not the proper way to greet a newcomer," Charin chided him. "You know better than that. Remember how overwhelmed you felt when you first arrived."

"Forgive me, Charin," Yophres replied. He affected a subdued mien that was belied by the brightness of his eyes. "It is just so exciting to meet someone from so far away."

"You will have plenty of time to exchange stories later," Charin sighed, then with a rueful expression turned back to Jackson and made more formal introductions. "Daniel, this unmannered scapegrace is Yophres, the eldest son of Queen Ynolenn of Venjarra. Yophres, Daniel of Earth."

"Um, hello," said Daniel of Earth.

"Yophres came to us as part of an important peace treaty with his mother. A high value is placed upon him," Charin said fondly.

"I have fathered five children, four of which were daughters," Yophres said proudly. "How many children have you fathered, Daniel?"

Jackson blinked. "None. Well, none that I know of, anyway," he qualified.

"None?" Yophres was openly astonished. "You are unproven?"

"Sorry?"

"It is quite odd," Charin mused, "although not completely unheard of in exceptional situations. Perhaps this is one of them. After all, you are not from our world."

As the conversation progressed, a few more of the men had gradually gathered round to listen. The astounding revelation about the newcomer provoked whispers and titters. Jackson glanced around nervously, wondering just what he'd gotten himself into. "I'm afraid I don't understand." That was an understatement. "Why do you want to know if I've had children? I thought I was brought here for treaty negotiations."

"Perhaps it is different on Earth," Charin said kindly to Jackson, then took a moment to frown his displeasure at the small crowd. Chastened, the rest of the men, including Yophres, melted away and found other ways to occupy their time, if not their attention. Swift glances towards Jackson and Charin were frequently stolen, and voices were muted so that curious ears could catch the occasional tidbit of conversation. Charin sighed in exasperation at their behavior, but continued, "Here, before a man is accepted as a royal consort, he will usually have proven his fertility by siring at least one child. The more children he fathers, especially daughters, the higher a household he can be considered for. Of course, one's ultimate rank also depends in part upon one's birth status, but--"

Stunned, Jackson could only gasp out, "Royal consort? Who said anything about royal consorts? What's any of that got to do with me?"

"Your people desire a trade and mining treaty with Naeryth, do they not? This is how treaties and political alliances are made and solidified. What other assurance does Queen Ro'jel have that your people will hold firm to the agreements?"

"Oh, my God." Jackson started pacing back and forth as the reality of his situation slammed into him. He wasn't here to work out treaty details with the queen's advisors. Oh, no, nothing as prosaic as that. Instead, he had landed in an honest-to-God harem. A male harem, for Christ's sake--something that was almost unheard of on Earth. With a sinking heart, he remembered how Captain Aresh had mentioned that the queen had formed a number of blood bonds with neighboring queendoms to secure the peace. This was undoubtedly what she was talking about. "Oh, my God," he repeated, scrubbing his hands through his hair. "This is crazy. Look, Charin, I think there's been a mistake."

"Why are you so upset?" Charin asked, truly bewildered at Jackson's reaction. "I assure you that life is very pleasant here. I did not have such a comfortable life even in my own sister's household, and she was quite fond of me. Ro'jel is a far more indulgent mistress than most. No one will ever raise so much as a finger against you. You may hunt, compete in sports competitions, even engage in intellectual activities or the arts. Indeed, you have but to ask for whatever you wish, and it will be granted."

Jackson stopped and stared hard at him. "Okay. I wish to go back to Earth."

"I amend my statement. You may have almost anything you want. None of us may venture from the men's quarters unescorted." Charin smiled gently at Jackson's look of horror and shook his head. "I cannot understand why you would want to leave. Did your lady not inform you of your fate? I have heard stories of such thoughtlessness, but never before encountered one who was the victim of it. It is, of course, within her rights to dispose of her property as she sees fit, and she owes you no explanations, but it is considered courteous to at least--"

"Property?!? We're property?"

"Not in the manner of an inanimate object, such as a table or a castle, but a kind of chattel nonetheless. We are under the protection of our mistresses for our whole lives. If not a mother or sister, then a lady wife. A man cannot afford to be without a protector in this world. Is this not the same on Earth?"

Right. Jackson knew he should have seen that one coming from a mile off. Since when had the denizens of any harem in history ever had full rights as human beings? It was just the inverted gender issues here that were throwing him off. Jackson gave Charin a distracted look and muttered, "No, not really. Where I come from, the sexes are generally treated the same. Well, mostly."

"How unusual," came Charin's polite but disbelieving reply. It was clear he regarded Jackson's protestations as mere histrionics at the abrupt change in his life. "Do not worry yourself over the differences between our worlds. At their core, women and men are the same everywhere. Your reactions are unusual, but not unheard of. Many are apprehensive when they first come into Ro'jel's household. Concern is only natural. I assure you, you will grow accustomed in no time at all."

Jackson realized that there would be no help from Charin, or any of the other men, for that matter. As far as they were concerned, this lifestyle was just the natural order of things, and they were more than willing to avail themselves of all the perquisites it provided. They probably couldn't even begin to understand why he didn't feel the same way.

His brain was scurrying around frantically. Jesus, a male harem. How could such an unnatural arrangement come about? Polyandry was rare on Earth, but for some reason it seemed to be the norm here. Jackson thought about that for a moment. Charin had been going on about fertility and children--could that be it? Had male infertility been a problem in the distant past. Was it still? A quick question to Charin clarified that issue--fertility was indeed an ongoing concern. Okay, that would account for why a man needed to prove he could father children before a queen would accept him. It also probably explained the social order here.

Fertile men--and by extension, all men, since the only method of determining fertility on this world was so basic and unreliable that viable candidates could easily be missed--would be too valuable to risk in warfare or any other dangerous occupation. In a warrior culture like this that would be a one way ticket to second class citizenship, or even non-citizenship. Such disenfranchised people, Jackson knew, tended to be vulnerable to all kinds of abuse.

Also, with no really accurate way to measure a man's fertility, a noblewoman might keep many husbands simply to hedge her bets. If any kind of primogeniture held on this planet, such a woman would want to guarantee her line with a female heir. A queen could afford to have only tried and true males in her harem, but perhaps those lower on the social scale couldn't be quite so picky, and having multiple consorts would raise the odds that at least one of them could father children. Jackson idly wondered if the queens of this world loaned their men out to their nobles for stud duty. He had no doubt that that would be an immense aid to the maintenance of royal power. It could also be real interesting, his hindbrain whispered traitorously. He ruthlessly quashed that idea.

During his abstraction, Charin had been watching his face like a hawk, alert to each expression that flitted across it. When Jackson grimaced and sighed, the older man mistakenly assumed he was starting to come into acceptance, or at least resignation, and said soothingly, "It will be all right, you'll see."

"Is there any way I can see my friends?" Jackson asked carefully. "Can I at least send them a message?"

Charin smiled broadly, pleased to be able to impart some good news that might calm his new brother somewhat. "You will see them tonight. Queen Ro'jel is holding a great feast this evening in honor of you and your friends. You are to sit at her right hand as a sign of her favor."

"Oh." What else was there for Jackson to say? At least he'd get to talk to O'Neill, Carter, Teal'c, and Makepeace, and they'd find some way to get him out of this mess. As far as he was concerned, the Marines could storm the place and break him out of the harem by force. He'd go with them willingly enough. To hell with the mining treaty.

Jackson's expression lightened with that thought. Seeing that, Charin patted his shoulder cheerfully. "You should start preparing for the feast. Everything must be perfect so that you do both your former lady and the queen honor. Come and see what has been chosen for you to wear." He turned and walked into a wall chamber that, like everything else in the harem, was sumptuously furnished. Two attendants waited before the large bed with folded hands. Across the bed lay the garments and jewelry that "Daniel of Earth" would soon be dressed in.

Jackson stared at the narrow strips of embroidered and bejeweled fabric, appalled. It was better than the nudity favored within the men's quarters, but not by much. "Are you serious? I'm supposed to wear that? In public?"

"It is of the latest fashion. Queen Ro'jel has spared no expense. No one will be able to take their eyes from you."

"Oh, that's for sure."

"You do not approve?"

"It's...different." When Charin looked confused and a little insulted, Jackson elaborated, "Where I come from, it's customary for men to dress more...conservatively...for important occasions."

"Then you are fortunate to be here," Charin told him reprovingly. "Those clothes you were wearing looked quite uncomfortable, and were most inappropriate to our climate. You should be grateful the queen is taking such great interest in your welfare."

"But...." Jackson stopped himself. It was no use trying to talk sense to this complacent idiot, he realized with frustration. His only hope for escape lay outside the harem walls. "Jack, you have got to get me out of here," he muttered almost inaudibly as, skimpy clothing in hand, the attendants moved towards him.

Still clad in their BDUs, SG-1 and SG-3 were escorted through the castle by the chamberlain and a few attendants to the great hall. O'Neill knew that Daniel would probably disapprove, what with his "when in Rome" attitude and all, but sometimes a man just had to put his foot down.

After viewing Tyrech's offerings, he had politely declined the offer of "more suitable attire." Every last one of his teammates had done the same, even Carter, although the ensemble offered to her had at least been dignified: a knee length tunic with split sleeves that was belted at the waist and embellished with gold embroidery, loose silk trousers, and low heeled sandals.

The costumes deemed appropriate for the men were a whole different story. Skin was definitely the order of the day for those unfortunate enough to be of the male gender.

Teal'c got off the easiest. He had been presented with a sleeveless, belted tunic that hung to mid-thigh, similar to that which Tyrech's assistants wore but made of richer material, sandals that laced up the calf, and bracelets and armlets of gold.

To their consternation, Johnson, Andrews, and Henderson were given a one shouldered tunic, a wraparound kilt, and a simple skirt, respectively, plus sandals and accompanying jewelry. When Johnson complained about the brevity of his tunic, Tyrech mouthed some inane platitude about the dictates of fashion.

SG-3's fearless leader was the clothier's next victim, and had been offered nothing more than a sapphire blue loincloth, sandals, and some gold and sapphire jewelry to accessorize.

Makepeace had been speechless.

O'Neill didn't get the opportunity to enjoy the Marine's discomfiture, since he had found himself the recipient of a brightly colored skirt, as short as everything else he'd seen and slit on one side clear up to the waistband, a pair of the unavoidable sandals, and a broad copper collar with matching armlets.

That "when in Rome" stuff could only be taken so far. The men were unanimous in their decision to keep their own clothes. They were also fairly vocal in their rejection of the suggestion that they at least wear some jewelry and perfume. Tyrech clucked disapprovingly and commented in a chiding tone that they were such nice looking men, and it was such a shame they didn't make the effort to present themselves more attractively. At that point, O'Neill noticed that Carter had turned away, no doubt stifling laughter, and in deference to her male colleagues she had also declined a change of attire.

O'Neill found the memory of that bizarre fashion show to be a little creepy, and the sight of all the local men unselfconsciously parading around in just those kinds of skimpy outfits did nothing to soothe his irritation at this reprehensibly backwards culture. The only individuals in their group who got treated with any respect at all were Carter and, for reasons that eluded O'Neill, Teal'c. Must be his manner or something. The rest of them were regarded by the women in a tolerant light and received both the same formal courtesy and mild condescension as the native men. O'Neill hoped Jackson was having better luck with the queen and her advisors.

"Guess next time we come to this planet, we should send an all female team," he found himself muttering to no one in particular.

"I think that would be a prudent idea, sir," Carter replied. Although her eyes danced, she managed to keep all traces of smugness from her voice.

O'Neill clenched his jaw. She must regard this whole trip as payback for that Shavadai incident last year. She'd probably been wanting to say something like that ever since he'd thrown similar words at her.

He'd never admit it, but he was starting to understand how she must have felt in that particular situation. Men obviously were number two in the social order here, and behaved as though it was the most natural thing in the world. Well, that might be fine and dandy for the locals, but O'Neill was getting twitchy. At least the queen seemed to have some forbearance for the idiosyncrasies of foreign cultures; after all, she hadn't made a change of clothes a mandatory condition of attending dinner. Which was just as well.

The party arrived at the entrance to the great hall. A goodly number of guards stood by, alertly watching the passersby and supervising the crowd in general. Richly dressed noblewomen, in costumes similar to that Carter had declined, and their "suitably attired" consorts filed through the large doorway. O'Neill noticed that some of the women had more than one man in their train, and wondered if perhaps the extras were servants of some kind.

"You may not take those weapons into the queen's presence."

O'Neill looked sharply at the owner of that gruff voice. A pair of humorless brown eyes stared back at him from beneath a steel helm. The woman had to be six foot five, with muscles to spare. Nonetheless, he cracked, "But they've got sentimental value. They belong to my favorite uncle."

The guard looked bored. "They will be safe right here. I promise not to let them out of my sight." She had obviously been briefed about the queen's eccentric guests.

O'Neill scratched his head and glanced back at his resigned looking colleagues. "I'm getting awfully tired of checking my stuff at the door," he grumbled.

"Me, too," Makepeace muttered. "Maybe we should try to work the system for a change." He then moved closer to the guard, directed a wide, blue-eyed gaze at her, and smiled fetchingly. To O'Neill's utter amazement, the guard smiled back and relaxed a hair. The two began a low, murmured conversation.

O'Neill was flabbergasted. If he hadn't seen it for himself, he'd never have believed it. Who'd ever have guessed the hard-assed Marine was such an accomplished flirt? He had that "I'm not dangerous, I'm just a clueless innocent" act down almost as good as Jackson. It must be the blue eyes, O'Neill decided. That was the only thing he could think of that Jackson and Makepeace had in common.

As he waited impatiently, his eyes flickered over the rest of SG-3. Those stalwart individuals were all keeping determinedly straight faces, but an air of entertainment surrounded them. It was obvious they'd seen this particular floor show before. O'Neill wondered just exactly what details might be missing from SG-3's official mission reports, and swore to himself that he'd sit in on their next post-mission debriefing.

In the end, all of Colonel Makepeace's considerable, if heretofore unrecognized, skills at wheedling were for naught, and he'd been unable to cozen the amused guard into allowing him and his companions to retain their weapons. In fact, O'Neill reflected sourly as he watched his teammates once again disarm themselves, the only thing he'd most likely accomplished was to reinforce the local stereotypes about men in general.

Once they met with the guard's approval, the two teams were led into the hall and seated upon floor pillows at a low, round table near the front of the room. The hall was full of such tables, which were occupied with the colorfully dressed gentlefolk and arranged with studied asymmetry, but in such a way as to leave open paths for the servants that already moved purposefully about. A short, rectangular table and two well-padded chairs were set upon the dais. All in all, both the organized pandemonium and the pageantry were quite impressive.

A slightly discordant blare of trumpets interrupted conversation, and all eyes turned to the rear of the hall. In the sudden silence, Queen Ro'jel stepped through the arching doorway. She was magnificently dressed in hues of brilliant crimson set off with heavy jewelry. A golden fillet, glittering with precious gems, bound her forehead. After a brief pause, she held out an imperious hand. Daniel Jackson emerged from the doorway and, with only a slight hesitation, formally placed his hand on her wrist.

Seemingly, he took his official duties as an Earth ambassador more seriously than the rest of his teammates, for he was garbed in the style of the local noblemen, that is to say, in very little at all. Gone was any remnant of Earth clothing, even his glasses. His present outfit consisted of a deep green loincloth, embroidered with gold and gems, a broad gold and emerald collar, and assorted armlets, bracelets, and anklets. The ensemble made it quite apparent that he spent no little time at the gym--something that no one had realized until this moment--and somehow, doubtless through great effort, he managed to look dignified instead of embarrassed.

"Oh, my." Carter's jaw dropped at the sight, and she leaned forward to get a better look.

"Close your mouth, Carter," an amused O'Neill told her, "or you'll catch flies."

The queen led Jackson through the hall, nodding graciously to all as she went. As they passed the Earth table, Jackson locked his gaze with O'Neill's and made a peculiar, half-frantic face. Before O'Neill could figure out what that was all about, Jackson and the queen had moved on. The couple ascended the dais and took their places at the high table.

Queen Ro'jel rose and spoke in ringing tones, "My loyal subjects, this evening marks a most auspicious occasion. For the first time since our holy progenitors settled this world, we have visitors who have come journeying through the Gate of Dagoth: a noble delegation from Earth with whom we have made a mutually advantageous trade agreement. Their world holds many wonders which will benefit us greatly. In acknowledgment of my willingness to cement this alliance for as long as I hold the throne, I make known to you the newest addition to my household, Doctor Daniel Jackson, whom their leader, Captain Carter, has presented to me as surety of her sincere and peaceful intentions. Arise, good friends from Earth, that my royal court may do you honor."

"Ah," said O'Neill, enlightened at last about what Jackson had been trying to communicate during his procession to the dais.

A little wild-eyed at the implications of the queen's announcement, the entire Earth group quickly stood and sat back down again, to thunderous applause and cheers of approval from the assembled nobles. Ro'jel smiled and gestured to the waiting servants, then seated herself--a sign that the feast should begin. The servants moved among the many tables, serving the court with a vast array of tempting dishes.

Makepeace shoved aside a vase of bright blue flowers and leaned across the table. "Okay, so what do we do about this little problem?"

"I'm working on it," O'Neill replied. In truth, he really had no idea what to do.

"It would be best to explain the misunderstanding to the queen privately," Teal'c told him. "She would not be pleased to have her mistake broadcast to her entire court."

"So you're saying that, for now, we should just pretend to enjoy the feast and catch her during a quiet moment, and hope like hell she's mellowed out a little?"

"That is correct."

O'Neill and Makepeace exchanged a glance. The Marine shrugged and said, "Sounds like a reasonable plan to me."

"We're just going to leave Daniel up there?" Carter asked.

"Why not?" O'Neill replied. "He's in plain sight. We'll keep an eye on him until we can have a chat with Her Highness. After she spends enough time with him, she'll probably be begging us to take him back."

"Sir," Carter said reprovingly.

"Relax, Captain Carter, we'll get him back. One way or another," Makepeace promised her. Carter did not look particularly appeased.

A servant came over to the table, bearing a large metal pitcher. He started pouring an opalescent drink into the waiting goblets.

"Hey, hey," Johnson said. "What's that?"

The servant bobbed his head respectfully and replied, "It is nelamm, my lord, from the queen's own private stores. A wonderful beverage, served only on important feast days."

Johnson sniffed his cup. "Smells sweet," he observed.

"I believe you and your companions will enjoy it." With that comment, the servant moved on to the next table.

Henderson took a small sip and rolled the liquid around on his tongue experimentally. "I don't taste no booze, but it's nice," he said.

"Yeah, it's pretty good," O'Neill agreed after he tried his own drink. "I wonder what's in it?"

The group concerned itself with keeping half an eye on Jackson while eating dinner. The food was delicious and abundant. The servants kept everyone's plates and cups full, and time passed swiftly. As O'Neill took a long swig of the queen's nelamm to wash down a tasty morsel of spiced meat, a familiar voice hissed into his ear, "Jack, what the hell do you think you're doing?"

He swung around, startled, and found himself confronted with a nearly naked and highly irritated archeologist. "Daniel! Queenie let you off the leash?"

Jackson's lips twisted. "I told her I needed to talk to you. She didn't seem to have a problem with it."

"Guess she must like you, then."

"You don't know the half of it! You heard that speech of hers. Did you even understand what she meant?"

"She thinks Carter gave you to her as part of the treaty negotiations."

"Oh, good. You were paying attention for a change," Jackson said sarcastically. "Jack, in this culture, men are little more than chattel. She thinks I'm her property, now! She's keeping me in a harem, for Christ's sake!"

"A what?" Makepeace stared at him askance.

"A goddamn harem, full of the biggest collection of twittering nitwits it has ever been my misfortune to encounter. How grown men can act that way is beyond me--"

"We're going to talk to Queen Ro'jel as soon as we can, Daniel," Carter said, biting her lips.

"What do you think I've been doing all night?" Jackson snapped at her, displeased with her apparent amusement at his predicament. "She just pats my hand in this really annoying way and tells me that everyone's nervous at first, and I'll get over it. God!"

"Well, it'll probably sound more credible coming from us," O'Neill said, "rather than her 'gift.' When you do it, it probably just sounds like wedding night jitters." This tactless statement provoked some poorly repressed chortles from the rest of the group.

"Oh, that's right, yuck it up. I'm the one who's stuck--"

"Daniel, relax. We'll talk to her when things quiet down a little. Teal'c thinks the situation might get even worse if we just publicly announce that she jumped the gun. God knows what these people will do if they think we're insulting their queen, and we're all unarmed, you know. The swords and spears those guards are carrying look awfully sharp."

"Yeah, I guess," Jackson muttered, conceding the point. He glanced over his shoulder at the dais. "I suppose I'd better get back before Queen Ro'jel starts to wonder what we're up to."

"Don't worry, we'll take care of it. This party's bound to start breaking up pretty soon."

With visible resignation, Jackson made his way back to his place by the queen's side. He plopped down in his chair and, in lieu of sulking, which might offend Ro'jel and get them all into trouble, he drained his goblet, held it out for a refill, and proceeded to make great inroads into his dinner.

Another hour passed and, contrary to O'Neill's expectations, the party-goers showed no inclination to break up and go home. They did, however, show distinct signs of turning both rowdy and randy. Occasionally, a noblewoman or two would stop by the table to meet the queen's new acquaintances. After paying appropriate respects to Carter and Teal'c, they invariably found an excuse to socialize with rest of the men in the Earth delegation. Teal'c noticed that none of his teammates objected to the attention. In fact, they were remarkably relaxed about their present circumstances, and seemed intent on behaving as boisterously as the revelers all around them.

"Shame on you, Carter," O'Neill laughed, teasing her mercilessly. "You shouldn't keep peeking at poor Daniel like that. He's already embarrassed enough, without you drooling all over the floor."

"It's nothing so prurient! I just happen to have a firm appreciation for the human form, that's all," Carter proclaimed, indignant that she had been caught.

"A very firm appreciation, obviously," Makepeace snickered. "Carter, you have no subtlety at all."

As Teal'c listened to the silly banter, an odd wave of lightheadedness passed over him, and a contented, buzzing sensation emanated from his womb. He rested a hand lightly on his stomach. If he didn't know better, he'd swear that his symbiote was snoring. Absurd.

Additionally, all of his Tau'ri companions were showing unmistakable signs of inebriation. That was most peculiar. There was no trace of alcoholic content in either the food or the nelamm--of that Teal'c was certain. He flinched as the entire group burst into unrestrained laughter at something rude that Sergeant Andrews had said. Teal'c eyed them dubiously and considered how fortunate it was that his own faculties were unimpaired. It seemed his friends would need a keeper for the rest of the evening.

His symbiote thrummed again, drawing his attention away from the foibles of his teammates. Could the nelamm be provoking that reaction from the young Goa'uld? Teal'c acknowledged that he had consumed a fair amount of that beverage. Perhaps an experiment was in order. He lifted his goblet and took a deep swig. The Goa'uld within him buzzed euphorically. Teal'c raised a brow at the interesting reaction. This was possibly the first drink he had ever encountered that his symbiote enjoyed. He idly wondered if the queen would permit him to take some of it home with him.

More laughter made him turn his head sharply. Carter was standing, arms akimbo and glaring down her nose at her male compatriots. "I'm going to find the ladies room," she announced haughtily, and stalked off. Snorts and snickers followed in her wake. Teal'c assumed that her teammates had continued to give her a hard time, and didn't blame her in the least for the strategic withdrawal.

When she was out of sight, several gaily dressed women descended on the Earth men with a predatory light in their eyes. They reminded Teal'c strongly of Terran vultures--or perhaps poachers might be a better analogy.

Like the rest of the team, Teal'c was now aware that the queen of this world kept a harem of male consorts. It was likely that the people here assumed the same of Earth's leaders, of which Carter was representative. Did the locals believe O'Neill and SG-3 to be Captain Carter's harem? It was an entertaining thought.

Teal'c surveyed his companions and realized that none of them were discouraging the advances of the women as they ought to. In fact, they weren't protesting the slightest bit. That could be a problem. They had already lost one member of their party to the odd local customs. It wouldn't do to lose any more, and if things proceeded any further, they might be in danger of losing all the men. Recovering Daniel Jackson was going to be problematical at best; recovery of three-quarters of their personnel might prove to be nigh impossible.

Teal'c knew that he was the only man present whom the women of this world treated with any respect. He didn't really understand why. He wondered if his gold tattoo singled him out somehow. It was possible they thought it marked him with special significance, perhaps as the protector of Carter's harem, or even her senior husband--and as such the individual responsible for the behavior of the others. If either of those options was truly the case, then he was being most remiss in his duties. His lips quirked and he decided to try an experiment.

Slowly, he stood up, crossed his arms, and glowered at the interlopers while saying in his most authoritative tone of voice, "That is enough." In response, the men all looked up at him, startled. The women merely looked amused. They acknowledged his authority with small, rueful shrugs and sauntered away. Teal'c watched them, intrigued. It seemed his suppositions were correct.

"Aw, Teal'c, wha'ja go an' do that for?" Johnson asked with a hangdog face.

"It was for your own good. Those women intended to seduce as many of you as they could away from our group," Teal'c said disapprovingly.

"Yeah, we know," Henderson said. "That was the whole idea."

"It would be inadvisable for us to separate. Were you not inebriated, you would recognize this fact for yourself."

"Spoilsport," Andrews grumbled.

Teal'c didn't bother to dignify that with a reply; instead, his attention was caught by a small disturbance in the center of the room. Captain Carter was on her way back to their table. As she crossed the floor, she was waylaid by a Naerythian noblewoman with two scantily dressed men in tow. A brief but spirited discussion followed, with the noblewoman gesturing at the Earth table. Carter looked surprised and not a little thoughtful, then shook her head. The noblewoman gestured some more, arguing all the while, with Carter repeatedly shaking her head throughout the entire discussion. Finally, the noblewoman gave up and went her own way. Carter returned to the table, staggering slightly, and flopped down on the pillows next to O'Neill.

"And what was that all about?" O'Neill asked her.

Carter looked remarkably uncomfortable. "Oh, um, one of the local customs around here is husband swapping, I guess," she managed to choke out without stammering too much. "She wanted to trade for one of you. Um, she had a favorite all picked out, and was willing to let me have whichever of her, ah, her consorts most appealed to me. Sir, I assure you I didn't give it any consideration at all," she added hastily.

"Of course not."

"Just out of curiosity, who'd she want, Cap'n?" Henderson asked, a little loudly to be heard over the snickers of his teammates.

Carter suddenly found her manicure to be a source of immense fascination. "Lieutenant Johnson. She was impressed by his size. I think."

The other members of SG-3 erupted into whoops, hoots, and catcalls. Johnson looked like he couldn't decide whether he should be flattered or embarrassed. Teal'c nodded to himself, pleased to have his suspicions about how the locals viewed their team confirmed. It now seemed clear that they regarded O'Neill, Makepeace, Johnson, Andrews, Henderson, and quite likely himself as the personal property of Captain Carter. He sought to repress a guffaw at the thought, and hiccuped instead.

Makepeace expelled a deep, nelamm laced breath and made a sweeping gesture with one arm. "This place just keeps gettin' weirder an' weirder. I say we just go collect Jackson and get our butts off this rock."

"Ya know, that idea has a lot of appeal," O'Neill replied, grinning wolfishly. "Not very diplomatic, but--"

"O'Neill, may I remind you we are here to obtain trinium?" Teal'c interrupted. "We agreed that we would discuss matters with the queen privately."

"Sorry, Teal'c, but I think we've stalled long enough," O'Neill replied repressively. "Doesn't look like this party's gonna settle down any time soon. We'll just have to go an' convince Her Royal Holiness to see things our way."

Carter had been swirling her goblet, watching the vortex of glimmering liquid within. At O'Neill's alarming words her gaze jerked up, and she protested, "Sirs, I don't know that that's such a good idea right now. I think our judgment is off," she added, looking across the table at O'Neill and Makepeace with unfocused eyes. "Way, way off. Has it occurred to you that we might all be in--intoxicated?"

"Don't taste like booze," O'Neill said, frowning down at his own goblet.

Makepeace commented, "You never know. Might be the local equivalent of vodka or everclear. They're kind of tasteless if you mix 'em with something sweet."

"Ah, the voice of experience."

Carter shook her head, then grimaced and scrunched her eyes closed, raising a hand to her forehead. After a moment, she recovered some of her equilibrium and said woozily, "No, sirs, I don't think it's got the right effects for alcohol. It might be a mild narcotic of some kind, though. Or maybe something else, I don't know, but we really need to stop drinking this stuff...." Her words trailed off as, eyes still closed, she lay back against the pillows.

"Carter, you okay?" O'Neill asked, a little concerned. "Carter? Don't tell me you've passed out already." The only reply to that was a delicate snore. O'Neill stared down at her. Carter's lips were slightly parted, allowing a tiny dribble of clear fluid to escape her mouth and roll down the side of her cheek. She snuffled gently, oblivious to everything. O'Neill chewed his lip, mulling over everything Carter had said, and slowly his disjointed mental processes coalesced into something vaguely resembling a thought. "I've got an idea," he announced in portentous tones.

"Does it hurt?" Makepeace asked snidely.

O'Neill considered that comment beneath his notice. "The way I understand it, we've got us a big problem, diplomatically speaking and all. We all know Teal'c's right. If we go around shootin' and blowin' up stuff to snatch Danny back, we probably won't be getting any trinium from these folks."

"No shit, Sherlock."

"Well, I think I've got a solution to our little dilemma." O'Neill paused a moment to refocus his eyes, which, when they weren't trying to close, had an annoying tendency to cross. The last thing he wanted was to see double, especially when the center of his attention was Makepeace's ugly mug. "Carter gave me the idea. Um, it'll need your buy in, but it'll keep us on Queenie's good side."

"Do tell."

"Daniel's a civilian, right? And we're all military, right?"

"Yeah, so?" Makepeace was having difficulty following O'Neill's logic, such as it was.

"Us military types are supposed to protect civilians."

"That's the usual theory," Makepeace agreed, nodding his head.

"Well, you know how that crazy woman wanted to swap one of her guys for Johnson? Maybe the queen bee would take one of us in exchange for Daniel. That way Queenie still gets her tribute or whatever the hell she calls it, and we get Daniel and the trinium."

"You think we oughtta try to trade?" Makepeace pursed his lips and took another swallow of nelamm as he considered the idea. He nodded slowly. "Might work. We sure as hell can't leave a dumb civvie holding the bag, after all."

"Right." O'Neill smiled broadly, satisfied that his Marine counterpart was finally on the right wavelength.

"Anyone got any objections?" Makepeace asked his men. They merely shrugged.

"Okay, we'll, uh, we'll do it, then," O'Neill said, pleased. He drained his goblet and burped loudly.

Teal'c looked at him with concern. "O'Neill? Are you unwell?"

"I'm fine, Teal'c. Just...fine." With that, O'Neill lay down on the pillows next to Carter and closed his eyes.

"O'Neill?" Alarmed, Teal'c reached down and shook him, but there was no response.

"Relax, Teal'c," Henderson said with a distinct hiccup. "He's just passed out. Like Cap'n Carter."

"Figures he'd pass out on us. Goddamn wingnuts can't hold their liquor worth shit," Makepeace slurred, directing a derisive sneer at O'Neill's recumbent form. "We still gotta rescue Jackson, so I guess it's up to us, guys."

"Like usual," Johnson sniggered. "So how do we decide who's gotta go?"

"Draw straws?" Andrews suggested.

"What'll we use for straws?"

Henderson slanted his head and eyed the flower arrangement at the center of the table. "Maybe this'll do," he said as he pulled five long stemmed blossoms from the vase.

"What are you doing, Henderson?" Andrews asked.

"Making straws," Henderson replied. He snapped the flower heads off, then methodically stripped each stem of its leaves. The result was five "straws" of roughly equal length.

"But they're all long," Andrews complained. "That won't work."

"Keep yer shorts on, loser, I'm workin' on it." Henderson picked a stem, broke it in two, and let one piece drop onto the floor. He arranged the other among the four long stems in his hand, so that the ends protruding from his fist were all even. "Okay, draw," he said, shoving his fistful of stems right under Teal'c's nose.

Startled, Teal'c flinched back a little, removing his face from such close proximity to Henderson's fist, then cautiously selected one of the stems and examined it. "I believe this is a long one," he stated the obvious, smiling broadly at his good fortune.

"Yeah, you got lucky," Johnson drawled. He pulled a stem from Henderson's handful and crowed with glee, "Mine's long, too."

Makepeace drew next. Four pairs of eyes stared at him as he held up his stem.

"It's the short one, isn't it?" Makepeace asked, holding the straggly piece of stem less than one inch away from his face. His eyes crossed as he attempted to identify it.

Four heads bobbed up and down in confirmation of that sorry fact. "Yup, sure is, sir," Andrews elaborated.

Makepeace made a wry face, then shrugged and tossed the stem over his shoulder. "Well, guess that's it, then," he said as he struggled to get to his feet. About half way up he lost his balance and sat back down abruptly, looking a little confused. "Shouldn't I be standing?" he asked plaintively.

Johnson and Henderson started laughing. They leaned against one another for support, snorting like mad cows, then toppled over, sprawled on the pillows beside O'Neill and Carter, and giggled hysterically. Andrews blinked owlishly at them and looked blank. Teal'c raised both brows, bemused by their antics.

Makepeace scowled at his men and tried to get up again. When the second attempt proved no more successful than the first, he turned a drunken, morose gaze onto Teal'c and said, "I think the floor must be broke or something."

Teal'c sighed deeply, then grabbed Makepeace under the armpits and hauled him to his feet.

Makepeace treated him to a decidedly lopsided grin and said, "Okay, that's more like it. Now let's go see Her Royalness."

"I believe that, were he conscious, O'Neill would say, 'We're off to see the wizard,'" Teal'c told him, straight-faced, as he steadied the swaying Marine with one hand under his arm.

Makepeace looked bewildered. "What wizard? I thought the problem here was a queen?"

"An eeevil queen," Andrews intoned.

"Yeah, like in Snow White!" Johnson called, lifting his head from the pillows.

"That's the one where she had to be kissed, right?" Henderson asked.

"The queen?"

"No, dummy, Snow White," Andrews said with a superior air. "The only way to rescue people in those stories is to kiss 'em. I think it's a rule or something."

"I might kiss Snow White, but I sure as hell ain't kissin' Jackson," Makepeace proclaimed indignantly.

"You will not be required to kiss Daniel Jackson," Teal'c told him with long-suffering patience.

"Really?" When Teal'c nodded, Makepeace said, "Okay, then what're we waitin' for?"

Teal'c was wondering that himself. However, all he did was incline his head in agreement and steer the unsteady Marine towards the queen's table. Whoops, hoots, and cheers of "Go get 'er, sir!" which dissolved into incoherent laughter, followed after them.

Queen Ro'jel was slouched against her cushioned chair, a dispirited expression on her face. Jackson was sitting next to her, talking a mile a minute. From what Teal'c could hear, Jackson was speculating about the possible origins of this world's culture--a theory in which male infertility featured prominently--as well as analyzing every last piece of minutiae in the decor that surrounded him. Even though stoned on the queen's nelamm, or perhaps because of it, he managed to pontificate in a manner that was both irritating and soporific. No wonder the queen looked bored.

As he moved closer, Teal'c saw that Ro'jel's eyes were glazed over. She sighed deeply, leaned forward against the table, and rested her chin on both fists. He smiled to himself. It appeared that an exchange might not be too difficult to achieve.

The queen perked up when she noticed Teal'c and Makepeace approaching and her expression became expectant. She straightened, her mien shifting with the effortlessness of long practice from ennui to regal, and made a sharp gesture to stop Jackson's lecture. The archeologist looked put upon, but paused in his monologue and also eyed his two erstwhile companions.

"My lady," Teal'c said, inclining his head to the queen as a token of respect.

Queen Ro'jel regarded the hand Teal'c had on Makepeace's arm with wary interest. "Another gift?" she asked neutrally. "I assure you, one is more than enough for the sake of diplomacy."

Teal'c's brows shot up. It sounded to him as though the queen was tolerating Daniel Jackson for political reasons. Certainly, neither her tone of voice nor her previous body language had conveyed any enthusiasm about her newest acquisition, nor any great attachment to him. In fact, if Teal'c read her right, she would be well pleased to be rid of the man. Teal'c hadn't anticipated such good fortune, but intended to make the most of it. "Queen Ro'jel," he said, "this night my noble lady, Captain Carter, and I have observed a certain...dissatisfaction with Daniel Jackson on your part."

Mild alarm flashed across Ro'jel's face, quickly masked, and she demurred, "I am most pleased with him, I assure you."

Teal'c permitted himself a moment of satisfaction. He was certain now that the queen was merely being diplomatic--it wouldn't do to reject an offering from potential allies. When it came to gifts, as O'Neill might say, it was the thought that counted. Besides, in a martial culture like this one, such a rejection might possibly be grounds for a declaration of war, if the rejected party took offense. Teal'c allowed a tiny trace of a smile to grace his lips. "You have no cause for concern, Queen Ro'jel. Indeed, the concern is ours. We feared that we had offended you, and we wish to rectify a most unfortunate misunderstanding."

"Misunderstanding?"

"Yes, my queen. Daniel Jackson was never intended to be our gift to you."

"No?"

"He is quite unsuitable for such a purpose."

"Oh?" The queen's tone invited further explanation.

Teal'c cast his eyes downwards. "My lady, Daniel Jackson is useful only as a scholar, and a peacemaker. He has certain...physical detractions which make him...less than desirable as...." He cleared his throat, then finished uncomfortably, "As a bedmate."

"Ah," Ro'jel said, not the least bit embarrassed by the topic of conversation. "And why is that? Certainly, he is attractive enough." She reached out and stroked Jackson's hair. Jackson gave her a goofy grin, too plastered to object to the condescension.

The queen seemed determined to make this difficult. Surely, she didn't want to keep the archeologist? Teal'c raised his gaze and realized that Ro'jel's eyes were gleaming with suppressed laughter. This was perhaps the most entertainment she'd had all night; Teal'c was also sure there was a tiny element of revenge involved. Jackson must have tried her patience excessively. Teal'c mentally reviewed the theory Daniel Jackson had been expounding on to the queen and formulated what the Tau'ri referred to as "a trump card." He played it, certain that it would do the trick: "Daniel Jackson is unsuitable as a bedmate because he is impotent, my lady."

"I see." Looking thoughtful, Ro'jel took a sip from her goblet. "That explains much. I was told he confessed that he had never sired any children, and I wondered why he was deemed a suitable token. But tell me, Lord Teal'c, why not mention this earlier?"

Teal'c chose not to correct her misassumption about his status. To be considered one of the nobility could only make dealing with her easier. "My lady, you selected him yourself. In our culture, it would have been a terrible impropriety to correct you. We did not realize that you might wish us to do so."

Queen Ro'jel had not bestowed that honorific by accident. Captain Carter was the leader of the Earth delegation, and naturally should be accorded all the honors and entitlements due her by virtue of her high position, but the woman was obviously not an experienced negotiator and her use of language was appalling, to say the least. Although he was only a man, Teal'c was someone the queen could communicate with in a manner with which she felt comfortable, and by dignifying him with a courtesy title she hoped to subtly encourage him to continue to act as Captain Carter's intermediary.

"But he was put forward by your lady, Captain Carter, he...." The queen tilted her head, understanding lighting her expression. "You said he was a peacemaker. He was merely intended to help with the formal negotiations, was he not? A diplomat, of sorts." That made sense to Ro'jel. Daniel Jackson talked at least as much as any diplomat she had ever met, and he had actually been quite well spoken earlier in the evening, if a bit strident and inclined to foolish subjects and unnatural ideas, before he became too intoxicated to be coherent. She found it strange that Earth utilized males in such positions, but one had to make allowances for the odd humors of foreigners, after all. It was well that Captain Carter had two such negotiators in her party, else this abhorrent misunderstanding might never have been put aright--and Ro'jel would have found herself the less than proud possessor of inferior goods.

"Yes, Queen Ro'jel," Teal'c said, relieved that she had so obligingly filled in the cracks herself. "His purpose was to assist during the negotiations. Please, do not be angry."

"No, I am not angry," she told him. "You were correct; it was a misunderstanding, on both our parts." She smiled then, a sunny expression that conveyed her amusement with the situation, and prodded, "You spoke of rectifying the mistake?" Her gaze shifted from Teal'c to Makepeace, and back again.

Teal'c felt like crowing aloud. Success! The trade was as good as made. He glanced over to Makepeace. The Marine had been so quiet throughout the exchange that Teal'c wondered if he had fallen asleep standing up. He was gratified to see that Makepeace's eyes were open, if somewhat unfocused. He addressed the queen, "Queen Ro'jel, this man, Colonel Robert Makepeace, was the gift we intended for you, as an expression of our regard and as surety for the treaty. It would honor us if you would accept him in exchange for Daniel Jackson."

Teal'c tugged Makepeace's arm. The Marine shuffled forward a few steps and nearly toppled over in the process. Teal'c steadied him and turned an apologetic look on his hostess.

"A bit too much nelamm?" Ro'jel laughed. "It affects many that way at first. Eventually, one becomes accustomed to it."

"I am relieved by your understanding, Queen Ro'jel."

"There is nothing to understand. Tell me of this man. You say he is suitable?"

"Most suitable, my lady. He is of high rank, and has fathered many strong daughters," Teal'c told her, keeping a straight face in spite of the way Ro'jel's eyes lit at his statement. Never let it be said that he didn't understand the less technological cultures of the universe. It was only the Tau'ri madmen and their ilk that bemused him. "He understands his duties, and is well trained in all manner of pursuits. I hope he finds favor in your eyes. We greatly desire an alliance with you, and hope to make amends for our inadvertent insult." He nodded to Jackson, who was gaping at the conversation.

Ro'jel was more than pleased with the way events were falling out. However, she smiled calmly and said, "Then permit me to examine this man, Lord Teal'c, and I shall determine if the exchange is acceptable."

"As you will."

At an imperious gesture from the queen, two guards appeared and took hold of Makepeace. They immediately started divesting him of his clothing. Still drunk, Makepeace only giggled inanely and didn't offer so much as a single word of protest to the activity.

Teal'c watched impassively, Queen Ro'jel with high interest. After Makepeace had been stripped naked and turned several times so the queen could make a very thoughtful and very complete inspection, she tapped her index finger against her chin and said to Teal'c, "Many daughters, you say?"

"Many," Teal'c confirmed.

"Very well, I accept the exchange." She clapped her hands sharply. As the guards snapped to attention, she ordered, "Take this one to the men's quarters and instruct the attendants to have him bathed and prepared."

The two guards saluted, then half-carried the staggering, nude Colonel Makepeace out of the great hall. Queen Ro'jel gripped Jackson by the upper arm, bodily lifted him to his feet, and led him down the dais to Teal'c.

Teal'c supported Jackson by wrapping an arm around his back, then asked the queen, "What of his personal effects?"

"Will those not do?" she asked, gesturing at the heap of camouflage clothing on the floor.

"Those garments will not fit him."

Ro'jel made a moue and nodded to a servant, who vanished briefly, then reappeared with a neatly folded pile of olive drab clothes, topped by a pair of boots and Jackson's glasses. "It really is a shame to cover him, especially with such unattractive garments," the queen sighed. "For all his inadequacies, he's really quite decorative."

Teal'c made no reply; instead he busied himself with removing the jewelry from Jackson. Like Makepeace, Jackson had a tendency to giggle while under the influence of the queen's intoxicating drink, and made the process far more problematic than it needed to be, but Teal'c was determined to get him out of the palace as quickly as possible, with nothing on his person that the queen might use as an excuse to reclaim him.

Teal'c handed the jewelry to the servant, taking Jackson's clothing in exchange. He executed a courtly bow to the queen. "My thanks for your generous hospitality, your tolerance, and your understanding, Queen Ro'jel."

Ro'jel bestowed her most gracious smile upon him. "It has been a pleasure, Lord Teal'c. You may inform Captain Carter that your people shall always be most welcome in all of my domains."

Teal'c bowed again and shifted his grip on Jackson. The inebriated archeologist squinted at him, slurred, "Hey, thanks, Teal'c," and promptly passed out. Teal'c sighed, then slung Jackson over one shoulder and strode back towards his companions with as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances.

As he approached their table, he was pleased to see that, not only were the remaining members of SG-3 still semiconscious, but also that O'Neill and Carter had regained some semblance of awareness, and were cheerfully imbibing more nelamm.

At the sight of his friends consuming the potent beverage, his larva hummed again in his womb. That really was the most disconcerting sensation. The young Goa'uld didn't seem to be distressed or in any discomfort, just--happy. Most peculiar. Teal'c still couldn't place the experience within any context, but since it wasn't unpleasant he chose to ignore it. He shifted his grip on Jackson as another wave of that peculiar lightheadedness swept over him.

Johnson stood up, swaying gently, and gazed at Teal'c and his unconscious burden with bleary eyes. "Looks like ya got 'im, Teal'c," he said.

"Yes," Teal'c said simply. "We must leave now." He dropped Jackson's bundle of clothes and assessed his soused companions. The Marines were reasonably conscious and there was a decent chance that they could walk--or at least stagger--on their own. O'Neill was looking unsteady but at least was attempting to sit up. Carter was flopped on her back and staring upwards, singing a soft, little nonsense tune. Occasionally her hand fluttered and waved at something high in the air. Teal'c looked up, but couldn't detect anything of interest beyond the mosaics that decorated the vaulted and carved ceiling. He sighed and told the assembled group, "Gather your things." Not too surprisingly, his order was ignored.

"Teal'c," O'Neill sang out in the over-exuberant welcome of lushes everywhere. "Hey, buddy. That Danny boy you got there?"

"It is, O'Neill."

"Cool. Is he naked, or am I just wasted?"

"Daniel Jackson is wearing a loincloth, and you are indeed quite inebriated."

While O'Neill took a moment to digest that, and Carter continued to count imaginary specks on the ceiling, Teal'c eased Jackson down onto the pillows next to Henderson, who grudgingly moved aside to make room for him. The archeologist moaned and blinked. Encouraged even by such unenthusiastic signs of life, Teal'c patiently attempted to get Jackson into his clothes. The operation wasn't exactly an unqualified success, but at its completion Jackson was again reasonably decent in his tee-shirt and pants. The flap of his loincloth hung limply from the partially zipped fly, having gotten caught in the zipper.

After coaxing Jackson into his jacket and glasses, Teal'c turned his attention to the rest of his comrades and spent the next few minutes convincing them that they could stand if only they put what was left of their minds to it. They were wobbly, but all of them, even Carter, managed to remain upright.

Teal'c guided them out of the hall and collected their weapons and gear from the guards that were overseeing them. He suppressed a twinge of apprehension at the idea of arming a bunch of drunks, a concern that apparently wasn't shared by the guards, who laughed derisively at Johnson's pathetic attempts to sling his rifle over his shoulder. Teal'c assuaged his conscience with the thought that none of his comrades were cognizant enough to even differentiate one end of a rifle from another, not to mention remember how to remove the safety.

After a great deal of effort, Teal'c managed to get everyone all geared up. The various pieces of equipment might be attached to the wrong body, but as long as nothing was left behind, Teal'c didn't care. Carter sagged against him and smiled mistily. Jackson leaned against the wall, and O'Neill simply stood and swayed in time to some rhythm only he could hear, a goofy grin on his face. Andrews and Henderson chose that moment to start bickering about who had whose rucksack. Johnson was attempting to emulate his absent CO by chatting up one of the guards, and having even less luck at the endeavor than Makepeace had.

At least no one was throwing up. Yet. Teal'c counted his blessings.

His Goa'uld larva hummed at him again and shifted lazily in his womb. Teal'c interpreted that activity as encouragement. He wrapped one arm around Carter's waist and gripped Jackson under the arm with his other hand. "We need to go to the Stargate now," he told his companions. The only reply he got was a large belch.

O'Neill and the Marines had huddled into a circle and were engaged in a farting contest. "Oh, yeah?" O'Neill was saying. "Well, check this out." He aimed his rump into the center of the group. A loud raspberry sound filled the air, closely followed by disgusted gagging noises and a great deal of raucous laughter.

"I got to get me some of this," Carter announced. She pulled away from Teal'c and staggered over to the group. Amid much giggling and smirking, the four men made way for her. Carter treated them to a haughty look and cut loose the noisiest, smelliest fart it had ever been Teal'c's misfortune to experience. He was amazed that the air didn't turn green with the noxious effluvium. "Whaddaya boys think of that?" Carter asked. "Pretty good for a girl, huh?"

"Pretty good for a rhino." Andrews covered his nose and mouth with his hands. "Oh, man, I need a gas mask after that one."

"Carter, I'm impressed," O'Neill said, gazing at her with admiration. "I never knew ya had it in ya."

"She doesn't anymore," Henderson chortled.

Johnson laughed out loud. "Looks like we got us a winner!" he called jovially. He slapped a meaty hand to her back, nearly knocking her onto her face, and said, "You're okay, Cap'n." Carter grinned at him, immensely pleased with herself.

Teal'c decided to step in before the bizarre Tau'ri bonding rituals got completely out of control. Still supporting a semiconscious Jackson, who thankfully was too far gone to participate in the current activities, Teal'c said in his most commanding tone, "That is enough. There will be no more of this childish behavior. We are leaving. Now."

The five miscreants looked contrite. Teal'c pressed his sudden advantage and, pulling an uncooperative Jackson along, managed to successfully herd all his charges out of the castle and into the courtyard. It was fortunate, he reflected, that the Marines, O'Neill, and Carter were all doing their part to keep each other upright. Intoxication seemed to have improved their relations, for there was a fair amount of good-natured leaning and jostling going on. Teal'c wondered despairingly whether they would make it back to the Stargate before they all passed out.

Salvation came in the form of Captain Aresh. Teal'c felt as though he had never been so relieved to see anyone in his whole entire life. The guardswoman surveyed the soused and jovial group with knowing eyes, listened to Teal'c's tale of woe with twitching lips, and, when Teal'c insisted that he and his companions did not desire lodging in the castle, summoned an oxcart to carry the whole misbegotten crew to any destination Teal'c desired.

Makepeace awoke slowly, drowsing in the cozy warmth that surrounded him. Lazily, his eyes drifted open. He was cocooned in a swathe of blankets, in an enormous, canopied bed. Opulent curtains, richly embroidered with gold and precious gems, hung from the top canopy and filtered the morning light. Makepeace idly wondered whose bed he was in, then sudden awareness slammed into him. He was on a mission to negotiate a mining treaty. They had attended a feast and discovered that Doctor Jackson had been shanghaied into the local queen's harem. And now he was naked--in some strange bed, without any idea how he'd gotten there. Oh, shit, what the hell was going on?

He turned his head, and saw that there was an equally naked woman snuggled in next to him.

Uh, oh.

Of all the damn fool stunts to pull--getting falling down drunk and going to bed with some strange woman on an alien, and possibly hostile, planet. Stupid, stupid, stupid! He'd be lucky if Hammond didn't bust him down to janitor, third class, for this. A little flirting to ease interplanetary relations was one thing, but actually propositioning an alien woman.... He paused on that thought, reconsidering. The way this culture worked, she had probably propositioned him, and from what little he remembered of the previous night, the women here weren't necessarily inclined to take no for an answer. Not that it mattered who had instigated things. He was in an utterly untenable position.

Hell, he didn't even remember the woman's name.

It was the height of bad manners to forget such an important piece of information. He turned on his side and peered down at the woman's face, taking great care not to move too suddenly and disturb her.

It was the queen. Double uh, oh. He was in serious trouble, now.

The queen's eyes slitted open, and for a moment she looked for all the world like a sleepy cat. She sighed deeply, propped herself up on one elbow, resting her head in her hand, and gazed into his face. "Good morning," she said, as though it was the most natural thing in the world to have an alien stranger in her bed. Makepeace stared at her.

"Nothing to say? What a refreshing change. Most men are such chatterboxes," Ro'jel murmured, stroking his arm with her free hand. The hand moved to his shoulder, then trailed down his flank in a gentle caress, sliding under the blankets and coming to rest lightly on his butt. Ro'jel grinned mischievously. Makepeace yelped when he felt her pinch his cheek.

"The Lord Teal'c was right about you," she purred, clearly amused at his reaction.

"The Lord Teal'c?" Makepeace repeated, gaping at her. He reached around and removed the offending hand from his anatomy.

Ro'jel's grin became wider, and she laced her fingers with his. "Indeed. Lord Teal'c assured me that you would be most responsive to my desires, and provide me with strong, healthy daughters. He was correct about the first assertion, so I find it easy to believe that he is also correct about the last." Ro'jel released his hand, then sat up and stretched, a long, languorous series of movements that were redolent of her satisfaction.

Makepeace stared at her dumbly, too startled to appreciate the show she was putting on for him. What the hell? Daughters? In fact, Makepeace did have two daughters, who were even now happily residing with his ex-wife in Oregon, but he wasn't about to share that information with Queen Grabby here.

"I am quite pleased that you do not talk too much. That Daniel Jackson was such a prattling bore, in addition to his other shortcomings. I made a most excellent bargain. I look forward to doing more business with Lord Teal'c."

Bargain? Business? Makepeace sat up abruptly. "Are you telling me that Teal'c traded me for Jackson?" Teal'c, he thought sourly, must have been a lot more affected by the local hooch than he had let on, if he thought this was a good idea.

"Of course. I understood the mistake once Lord Teal'c explained it to me." She cupped Makepeace's face in her hands and kissed him deeply.

Normally, Makepeace wouldn't object to being kissed by an attractive woman, but the present circumstances were anything but routine. If he understood his situation correctly, he had been bartered for Doctor Jackson and was now Queen Ro'jel's personal property. That might be the stuff of fantasy and many a porn story, but in reality it was nothing less than slavery. He decided then and there that he was going to kill Teal'c first chance he got.

He pulled away from Ro'jel, saying, "Look, I think there's been a mistake...."

"Yes, there was," she agreed, "and Lord Teal'c has rectified it."

"Teal'c," he said with great indignation, "had no right--"

"Are you a talker, after all?" Ro'jel interrupted with mild irritation. "Why am I always plagued with talkers? You can chatter with the other men later. Right now, I'd rather--" She stopped at the clanging of an iron bell from somewhere within the palace.

"Is it truly so late?" The queen sighed with disappointment and pulled open the bed curtains, revealing a luxurious bedchamber flooded with brilliant sunlight from large windows and overhead skylights. "Yes, I see it is," she answered her own question. "Pity, but even queens cannot while away the day abed."

Ro'jel got out of bed and dressed herself in a silken robe that was heavily brocaded with jewel tinted designs. Makepeace watched her warily, not trusting himself to speak. She smiled at him, her eyes traveling the length of his body, and he felt a sudden urge to pull the blankets up to his chin. "Perhaps I can tolerate a little bit of talking," she said indulgently as she tied a matching strip of fabric around her waist to secure the robe.

Once she was decent, she moved across the room and tugged on a cord. Several large, well muscled, and very well armed female attendants entered the room. "Escort him to the men's quarters," the queen instructed them, gesturing at Makepeace, "and see that he is made presentable."

Makepeace remembered how Jackson, not to mention all the local men, had been dressed at the previous night's feast, and reflected that his idea of presentable and the queen's probably differed by a significant degree.

"I will see you later," Ro'jel promised over her shoulder as she sauntered out of the bedroom. That time her smile was downright lascivious.

Makepeace glared after her, then scowled at the guards cum harem-keepers that were approaching him. No way in hell was he going to be a happy little harem boy.

By the time O'Neill finally managed for pry his eyes open, the morning was well underway. The sun shone down brightly, and from the surrounding bushes and trees came a multitude of chirps and screeches and caws, accompanied by a great deal of rustling.

Off to his left, O'Neill heard Johnson grumble in sleepy tones, "Damn birds."

O'Neill could appreciate the sentiment. "Or whatever they've got here," he muttered, levering himself up. Surprisingly, other than feeling a little tired and logy, he was doing pretty good for having gotten hammered the previous night. No hangover. That was a hell of a change. He wondered if maybe they could sneak some of that nelamm home with them.

Teal'c was sitting next to the DHD with a large, beatific smile plastered on his face. "Good morning, O'Neill," he said placidly. "I trust you are well rested?"

O'Neill shot him a nasty look and climbed to his feet. He took a quick count of the bodies that were sprawled or sitting on the ground in various states of consciousness. Seven, including himself. That was good--it meant they hadn't managed to lose any more people.

"Screw you, you stupid birds!" Andrews stood and lobbed a fist-sized rock into the nearest tree. There was a sudden flurry of flapping wings as the birds--yes, O'Neill noted disinterestedly, they were birds--took off. The flock circled the tree twice, then resettled in its branches, screeching their tiny little heads off in outrage.

Henderson winced at the early morning racket and complained, "Oh, God, that didn't help any." Andrews shrugged and looked annoyed.

O'Neill grimaced in sympathy and scrubbed his hands through his hair, staring at the Stargate the whole time. "God, that was one potent brew. I don't remember much of anything that happened after dinner. How the hell did we get back here? Did we walk?"

"Indeed not," Teal'c replied. "Captain Aresh was kind enough to arrange for an ox drawn cart to carry us back here. We are fortunate that we encountered her as we were leaving the castle. You were all quite...unsteady, and I doubt you would have managed the journey on foot."

"Oh," O'Neill said, somewhat subdued. "Well, that was nice of her. I take it you were our babysitter?"

Teal'c inclined his head.

"Ah, we weren't kicked out of the castle, were we?" O'Neill cast a covert glance at the Marines, surreptitiously checked his own knuckles, and added, "We didn't bust the place up or anything, right?"

"You did not." Teal'c paused. When O'Neill looked at him expectantly, he continued, "You did, however, engage in some peculiar behavior."

"Peculiar, how?"

"You were interested in determining who could produce the most flatulence."

"A farting contest," Andrew clarified.

"Yes. It is fortunate that the queen did not witness that particular activity. After that, we left her fortress and returned here. At that time, everyone except Colonel O'Neill and Lieutenant Johnson...went to sleep," Teal'c said delicately.

"Uh huh." O'Neill kept his face blank. It was that, or laugh out loud. So much for diplomacy. They were lucky they hadn't been thrown out on their asses.

"You and Lieutenant Johnson then engaged in what you termed, 'a pissing contest,' to see who could produce 'the most prodigious stream.'"

"Ah." Having participated in similar activities many times before, even when not totally smashed, O'Neill was unfazed by the revelation. "And who won?"

"Lieutenant Johnson."

With a softly hissed, "Yes!" Johnson made a small but triumphant gesture with one fist. His teammates were less discreet and congratulated him with a rowdy burst of back-slapping and a few jovial insults.

"Shortly after that, the two of you also...went to sleep," Teal'c finished.

"We passed out," O'Neill interpreted.

"Yes."

Andrews asked, "Hey, Teal'c, just out of curiosity, who won the farting contest?"

"Captain Carter," was Teal'c's unhesitating answer.

The Marines all stared at the captain with awe. "Shit, ma'am, that's no fair," Henderson laughed. "Everyone knows you officers got more hot air than us regular grunts."

Carter buried her face in her arms and groaned in embarrassment.

"Way to go, Sam," Jackson grunted sardonically as he tried to push himself into a sitting position. His glasses were askew on the bridge of his nose, and he took a moment to adjust them.

"Daniel! You're back!" O'Neill exclaimed. "That's great!"

"Yeah, I guess I am. I've even got clothes again." Jackson looked down at himself and fingered the flap of his loin cloth, still stuck and hanging limply from his fly. "Plus a souvenir, I guess." He fiddled with his zipper and managed to get the cloth loose, then stuffed it into his pants and re-zipped his fly. "Lucky me," he mumbled. "Wish I could remember what happened."

"Guess that nelamm's pretty heady stuff," O'Neill quipped. "Anyone remember how we got Daniel back?" Everyone shrugged and shook their heads, with one notable exception.

"I convinced the queen to return Daniel Jackson to us," Teal'c said, lounging in a most atypically relaxed manner against the DHD.

"Okay," O'Neill drawled with studied patience. "And how did you manage that, Teal'c?"

"I traded Colonel Makepeace for him."

"You what?"

"I traded Colonel--" Teal'c stopped when O'Neill waved a hand and shook his head. The three remaining members of SG-3 looked shocked for a brief moment, then started to snicker.

O'Neill took a second inventory of personnel. Sure enough, Makepeace was missing. He guessed he should have counted faces earlier, instead of just warm bodies. He sighed and rolled his eyes heavenward. "Oy," was all he trusted himself to say under the circumstances.

Carter said, "I don't understand. How'd you convince her to accept a trade?"

"I told her that Daniel Jackson was impotent," Teal'c replied.

"You what?" Jackson yelped.

"I told her you were impotent," Teal'c repeated calmly, "and I assured her that Colonel Makepeace had no such physical liabilities. She seemed quite pleased by the exchange."

Jackson made a strangled, inarticulate noise of pure outrage. O'Neill bit his lip and closed his eyes while he counted to ten. "You know, Teal'c, this really didn't help any."

"It was, in fact, your idea to attempt a trade, but you...." Teal'c paused a beat, then continued, "You...went to sleep before it could be implemented, so SG-3 drew straws." The remaining three Marines looked amazed at his words.

"My idea?" O'Neill stared at Teal'c. "You've got to be kidding. Are you sure the booze didn't affect you?"

"Personally, I think it's still affecting him," Jackson muttered under his breath.

"Yeah, why else would he admit this like it was a good idea?" Henderson chortled. Teal'c merely looked serene.

"This isn't funny, people," O'Neill snapped, struggling to come to terms with his own part in the current disaster. He couldn't have come up with such a stupid plan, could he? And Makepeace went along with it? They both must've been hammered but good. That nelamm sure packed one hell of a kick.

The snickers were all muffled immediately, although just about everyone--except Teal'c, who appeared unruffled and self-satisfied, and Jackson, who was still fuming--had that pained look on their faces that comes from trying to hide a smirk. O'Neill knew that his own expression wasn't exactly regulation, and conceded, "Okay, I admit it, it is kind of funny, but we still have a big problem on our hands. Instead of a civilian archeologist being held prisoner, now it's a high ranking line officer with a lot of valuable strategic intel in his head."

As O'Neill had hoped, the last of the amusement vanished at that dampening statement. He honestly didn't believe that Queen Ro'jel was interested in intelligence about Earth's offensive and defensive capabilities, but that didn't make the security risk any less real, and they needed to take it seriously.

"Doctor Jackson, what did they do to you while they held you?" Andrews asked.

Jackson shrugged. "Nothing much. There was no physical abuse, if that's what you're asking--they don't believe in using force or coercion, and really, the men all seemed to like it there. They get just about anything they ask for, and the harem quarters are quite luxurious. I was treated with remarkable indulgence. It wasn't terrible, just kind of humiliating. The queen believes in keeping her men naked and barefoot," he added with a wry twist to his lips. That revelation provoked another round of snickers, quickly stifled.

"All right, so Makepeace probably isn't in danger of anything except acute embarrassment for now," was O'Neill's assessment.

"Yeah," Johnson agreed, "but that might change. No offense, Doctor Jackson, but Colonel Makepeace isn't likely to be as accepting of the situation as you were."

"I wasn't exactly accepting--" Jackson protested.

"But you probably weren't violent, either," O'Neill pointed out. "If I know you, you tried to talk your way out, and bored the queen to death." The annoyed expression that crossed Jackson's face confirmed O'Neill's words.

"So we're pretty much back to where we were last night," Johnson said. "Somehow, we're going to have to break Colonel Makepeace out of the castle."

Andrews added, "Preferably before he irritates the queen too much."

O'Neill nodded. "All right. Let's take stock of the situation. Teal'c, looks like you were the only one who managed to stay sober last night. What can you tell me about--" He stopped as a loud snore buzzed in the air. Teal'c was slumped against the base of the DHD, eyes closed and breathing very deeply. Henderson knelt down by the Jaffa and checked him out.

"He looks okay," Henderson said. "I think he's just passed out. Maybe that stuff we all drank affects Jaffas differently than the rest of us."

"Ya think?" O'Neill said sarcastically.

"I'd say it's a pretty good assessment, Jack, to judge by Teal'c's recent activities," Jackson commented. Teal'c smacked his lips and snuggled in closer to the DHD. Everyone stared at him, nonplused.

"Can you wake him up?" O'Neill asked.

Henderson slapped Teal'c lightly on the face several times, and even splashed a little water from his canteen on him. There was no response. "He's dead to the world. Sir."

O'Neill rolled his eyes. "All right, it looks like we'll either have to do this without Teal'c, or wait for him to wake up. Personally, I think we oughtta wait for Teal'c. Makepeace'll be okay. He's smart enough not to rock the boat, and wait for us to get him out." I hope, he added mentally, wondering how well he, himself, would take to that kind of gilded cage. Probably not too well. Somehow, he doubted Makepeace would do any better.

"I agree, sir," Carter said. "Obviously, Teal'c managed to develop some kind of rapport with Queen Ro'jel. That might prove more useful than covert or direct action."

Johnson looked like he'd swallowed something sour, but didn't disagree with her.

"Fine," O'Neill said. "But if Teal'c doesn't wake up in an hour or two, we'll have to try something else. Johnson, how about we have a little strategy session? You know, work on Plans B and C."

"Yes, sir." Johnson brightened at the thought of planning some mayhem. Henderson and Andrews also looked a little happier.

"Okay," O'Neill said. "Plan B will have to involve talking. Daniel and Carter better handle that. Plan C will be busting Makepeace out." He looked at each member of SG-3. "I seem to recall that you guys have some experience at that kind of thing."

"Yes, sir, Colonel O'Neill," Johnson confirmed.

Andrews offered, "I was part of a hostage rescue just a few years ago."

"We've all been involved in a few covert actions here and there," Johnson added. "You know how it is, sir."

O'Neill did, indeed. "Great, then let's figure out how to infiltrate the castle." He knelt on the ground and smoothed out a small area of soil. He started to draw a crude map of the area in it with his finger.

Carter and Jackson moved off to one side to discuss the arguments they would try to use with the queen. SG-3 hunkered down with O'Neill to draw pictures in the dirt.

A little over an hour later, Teal'c finally started showing signs of life. He shifted and grunted as his eyes blinked open. He looked around, confusion evident on his features. Jackson was by his side in an instant. "How do you feel, Teal'c?"

"Daniel Jackson," Teal'c said as he stood up and dusted himself off. "I am pleased to see you. How is it that Queen Ro'jel released you?"

Jackson looked startled. "You don't remember what happened?"

The rest of SG-1 and SG-3 gathered around Teal'c and exchanged knowing glances. "Looks like the nelamm strikes again," O'Neill said wryly.

Teal'c's brows knitted, and his lips turned down in bewilderment. "I do not understand."

"Relax, buddy. That stuff seems to induce a little amnesia or something."

"Nelamm?" Teal'c's frown deepened. "It is true I do not remember leaving the queen's feast last night. What has occurred? How was Daniel Jackson retrieved?"

Jackson crossed his arms and regarded the bemused Jaffa with sympathy. "Ah, Teal'c, maybe you'd better brace yourself."

Teal'c cocked his head enquiringly.

"You traded Colonel Makepeace for me," Jackson told him bluntly.

"I did no such thing," Teal'c said, affronted by the mere suggestion of such dishonorable behavior.

"Teal'c, believe me, you did it. You told us all about it this morning. Look around you. I'm here, Makepeace isn't. We think the nelamm must have affected you a little differently than us."

"Intoxicating substances do not affect me. My symbiote purges them from my system before they can have any debilitating effects," Teal'c replied stubbornly, but a look of sudden doubt crossed his face as he vaguely remembered an odd, buzzing sensation in his womb and a certain feeling of lightheadedness.

O'Neill seized upon the Jaffa's hesitation. "Look, Teal'c, we've all got memory problems from most of last night. Now, so do you. And you were passed out just a few minutes ago. I'd say you were affected even worse than we were."

Teal'c looked stricken. "O'Neill--" he began.

The thunder of hooves interrupted the conversation. A large group of armed women was riding towards them on horseback. In their midst, mounted upon a pure white steed, wearing ornate, gold chased armor with a billowing purple cloak, was Queen Ro'jel. She looked furious.

Riding to one side and a little behind her was Colonel Makepeace, gripping the pommel of the saddle with hands that were bound together with a satin cord. Except for the gold jewelry that adorned his ears, neck, biceps, wrists, and ankles, he was completely nude. O'Neill winced at the sight of all that bare skin in contact with the leather saddle. That had to chafe.

A grim-faced guard held the reins to Makepeace's mount. The party drew up right before the clearing amid a flurry of dust and loud neighing from the animals.

"Captain Carter! Lord Teal'c!" Ro'jel shouted angrily. "I demand that you speak with me! Immediately!"

"Hoo boy," O'Neill muttered. "Carter, Teal'c, maybe you guys better talk to the lady."

Teal'c and Carter both nodded and stepped forward. Although he didn't remember his prior encounter with the queen, Teal'c was determined to redeem himself and minimize Captain Carter's involvement. This unfortunate situation was his fault, not hers. "We are here, Queen Ro'jel," he said, before Carter could utter a word. "Is something amiss?"

"Is something amiss? Tell me you didn't cheat me deliberately by giving me this-- this--" Ro'jel gestured wildly at Makepeace, sitting placidly on his mount and watching the proceedings with interest.

"You are dissatisfied with Colonel Makepeace?" Teal'c asked.

"Yes! He was lovely while he was intoxicated, but when the nelamm wore off he became even more difficult than that annoying Daniel Jackson!" the queen practically shrieked. "It would be immoral to keep him drugged all the time, and he is far too disruptive an influence to keep in the harem! In fact, I do not even want him anywhere on my world!"

A few choking noises emanated from behind Teal'c. He turned slightly to direct a quelling glare at the culprits, and noticed that even O'Neill's lips were twitching.

Ro'jel elaborated, "Daniel Jackson only talked too much and was unable to perform. Colonel Makepeace performs adequately, but he talks even more than Daniel Jackson, he's aggressive and violent, and he has incited my entire harem to rebellion! The whole palace is in an uproar!"

"I can do nothing about that," Teal'c said.

"I refuse to accept such inferior and defective goods--not even to seal a treaty with your people. I demand another trade!"

There was a slight stir behind Teal'c at her words, followed closely by the sound of weapons being cocked.

"He is the best we have to offer," Teal'c told the queen solemnly.

"Then keep him! Keep all of them!" Ro'jel shrieked. A guard shoved Makepeace from his saddle, and he tumbled to the ground. "And never, ever return to my domain--on pain of death!" With that, she wheeled her mount around and galloped off. Her entourage hurried after her, leaving behind a cloud of dust and one sprawled, naked Marine colonel.

O'Neill gripped Makepeace under the arms and hauled him to his feet. "Gee, Makepeace, I never would have guessed that you were a lovely drunk. I always figured you for the type that gets mean."

"Just untie me," Makepeace grumbled, holding out his bound hands.

"Well, you're in a bad mood." O'Neill noted that Makepeace didn't have a mark on him. It seemed that Queen Ro'jel was even more tolerant than Jackson had implied. She also apparently had either a dirty mind or an extraordinarily twisted sense of humor, or both, to judge by the...interesting...placement of a few pieces of jewelry that hadn't been noticeable when Makepeace was sitting on the horse. O'Neill forced his eyes up with an effort.

"What kind of a mood am I supposed to be in? Your pet Jaffa traded me for your pet archeologist!"

"In Teal'c's defense, he was a whole lot drunker on that damn stuff than the rest of us were. It really hammers Jaffas. Hell, even Junior was probably buzzed." O'Neill was careful not to mention his own role in the debacle, or that Makepeace had apparently agreed to it. That could come out later, during what promised to be a very uncomfortable debriefing. Hopefully, Makepeace would be a little calmer by then, or at least less likely to commit murder with General Hammond watching.

"I know that!" Makepeace snapped. When O'Neill raised his brows, Makepeace added, "That much was obvious when I thought about it, and I promise not to shoot him or anything. Now, will you hurry up and untie me, already?"

"I can see why the queen was so hot to unload you on us. Although from what I hear, if you'd bothered to make nice with her you could have lived in the lap of luxury for the rest of your life. Are you sure you really wanna leave?"

"O'Neill...." The name was delivered in a deep growl.

"Daniel, dial us home," O'Neill called, "before Queenie changes her mind." Jackson nodded and moved over to the DHD. As O'Neill started working at the silken ropes around Makepeace's wrists, he couldn't resist adding, "That's some nice jewelry you got there, Makepeace."

"I'm warning you, O'Neill...."

"You know, it would be a lot easier to take you seriously if you weren't buck naked." O'Neill pulled the ropes away with a flourish.

Makepeace swallowed his bile and rubbed his newly freed wrists. He suddenly realized that everyone was staring at him. Being naked in front of a bunch of men wasn't a new experience for him--that was SOP in every locker room on Earth, and he'd gotten used to it a long time ago. Unfortunately for his equanimity, the locker rooms he frequented were never coed.

For her part, Carter had the grace to turn away, but every so often she would cast a quick glance over her shoulder. Makepeace was forcibly reminded of her "firm appreciation for the human form." Self-consciously, he covered his groin with his hands and turned his side to her, trying to align himself so that she wouldn't get quite such an eyeful the next time she "accidentally" looked his way.

The Stargate exploded to life, providing a welcome distraction. "As soon as I send the iris code," Jackson announced, "we're outta here." He looked like he was in a hurry to leave. Makepeace definitely sympathized.

"I'll bet you're gonna make quite a splash back home," O'Neill shot at Makepeace, unable to keep his mouth shut. "They'll probably make copies of the security tapes and sell them at the Christmas party."

That did it. Life sucked bad enough without O'Neill's running commentary. It didn't help Makepeace's temper that Carter kept sneaking peeks, or that the rest of SG-3 could barely contain their snickers, and that last comment had finally pushed him over the edge. "I want my clothes!" Makepeace howled. "I'm not going through that wormhole like this!"

"Look, we don't have your clothes." O'Neill rolled his eyes. "I don't know what happened to them. Maybe the queen kept them as a souvenir or something."

Johnson and Andrews both had to turn away, muffling their laughter behind their hands. Henderson had greater self control, but still barely managed to keep a straight face. Teal'c looked contrite, and Carter sneaked another peek. Jackson shot Makepeace a commiserating glance.

"Jackson got his clothes back!" Makepeace complained.

"Well, we didn't get yours back. Here," O'Neill said, stripping off his jacket and handing it to the nude Marine. "Wrap this around your waist if you really need to preserve your modesty so much."

Makepeace snatched the proffered garment with decidedly bad humor and tied it around his waist, taking great care to make certain that nothing too non-regulation was on display. The jacket was somewhat inadequate to the task, but with some artful manipulation Makepeace managed to cover all of his critical attributes. Carter surreptitiously watched the operation out of the corner of her eye, and when Makepeace threw her a very hostile look, rapidly shifted her gaze towards the Stargate and tried to pretend that she hadn't noticed anything out of the ordinary.

She was a pretty lousy actress, O'Neill thought, grateful that Teal'c had let SG-3 draw straws, instead of just trading him to the queen. He couldn't deny that it would have served him right, but he found it difficult to feel guilty for something that he didn't remember instigating.

The indicator on Jackson's GDO lit green. "We can go now," he said, edging towards the Stargate.

"Okay, people," O'Neill called. "You heard the man. Let's head on back."

Jackson and Carter immediately went through the 'gate, followed closely by Johnson, Andrews, and Henderson. Teal'c silently cocked a brow at the two colonels before he, too, vanished through the event horizon.

Makepeace stepped up to the Stargate and hesitated, his hands clutching at the jacket around his hips. O'Neill gave him a hard shove and smirked as the Marine stumbled gracelessly into the event horizon. Whistling a cheerful tune, O'Neill stepped through the Stargate and headed home.

General Hammond stared out the control room window at the activated Stargate below. It hadn't even been twenty-four hours, but already the duty tech had received SG-1's signal, indicating that they and SG-3 were on their way back from P2Z-494. Hopefully, with a mining treaty in hand, although that seemed improbable, considering how early they were.

Still, it wasn't an impossible scenario. Could they really have managed an agreement in such a short time? Perhaps the natives were friendly, after all. Hammond snorted to himself. Nothing ever went that easily. It was far more likely that the two teams had managed to irritate the locals, if for no other reason than their own internal bickering.

As Hammond watched, Jackson and Carter emerged from the event horizon and walked down the ramp. Johnson, Andrews, and Henderson appeared immediately after them. Nobody was rushing; rifles were slung. That was a good sign. At least they weren't high-tailing it home amidst the chaos of weapons' fire.

Teal'c came through next and joined his comrades at the base of the ramp. The six teammates clustered together and turned towards the Stargate, waiting for their respective commanding officers to make an appearance. Their posture suggested anticipation, and not a little amusement. Jackson threw a quick glance up at the control room and, spotting the general, swiftly looked away.

Hammond frowned. What kind of stunt had O'Neill and Makepeace pulled this time?

As though in response to Hammond's unspoken question, Colonel Makepeace stumbled through the Stargate. The man was almost completely naked; decency was barely preserved by the olive-drab jacket wrapped around his waist. He was decked out in an extraordinary amount of gold jewelry that glinted under the harsh fluorescent lights.

"What the devil?" Hammond muttered as O'Neill strode through the Stargate with a smug expression on his face. He was missing his jacket. The general surmised that it was that particular article of clothing that kept Makepeace's modesty intact. As the Stargate deactivated, a few amused murmurs rose in the control room, which General Hammond quelled with a single, forbidding look. Satisfied that discipline would be maintained, he headed down to the 'gate room to get some answers.

The two teams had formed a loose cluster around both colonels, shielding Makepeace somewhat from curious eyes and omnipresent security cameras. As usual, O'Neill's mouth was open and flapping, although Hammond was unable to make out the words. They couldn't have been very circumspect, for Makepeace, in his turn, looked like he was getting good and ready to start swinging. Hammond paused a few feet away from them and decided he'd better get all his people back on their respective leashes before things got completely out of hand.

"Colonel O'Neill," he called peremptorily, startling the members of SG-1 and SG-3 alike, "how did the negotiations go?" He received a number of wide-eyed looks in return.

"Oh, not so good, General," O'Neill replied airily. "Makepeace kind of ruined them for us. Not that I blame him or anything, considering that he would have had to spend the rest of his life in the buff."

Makepeace uttered an inarticulate growl.

"Personally," O'Neill continued, "I think he should have discussed it with the rest of us first. Might have been a good deal for Earth, you know? A jarhead in exchange for trinium mining rights seems like a bargain to me. Besides, he might have liked it there. Sounds like it would have been a pretty cushy life, what with being the queen's squeeze and all."

"Shut up, O'Neill!" With a murderous expression, Makepeace took a step towards him, but aborted his plans for violent retribution when the jacket around his hips slipped. He snatched at it desperately, his whole body coloring bright red in embarrassment.

Hammond stared at both of them in bafflement, wondering if his interpretation of O'Neill's words and Makepeace's behavior and state of dress--or rather, undress--could possibly be correct. "Let me get this straight. You people are telling me that the natives of P2Z-494 wanted Colonel Makepeace in exchange for the mining treaty?"

"Their queen, actually," Jackson said with a grimace. "It was all a misunderstanding." He scratched his nose, looking oddly self-conscious, and muttered, "It's kind of a long story."

"All right, I can see this is going to be complicated." Hammond rubbed his eyes. "I want written reports from each of you. Now go get cleaned up and checked out in the infirmary. You can debrief...." The general hesitated a beat, wincing a little at his unfortunate choice of words, then brazened it out, "You'll debrief at fourteen-hundred."

A round of snickers rippled through the 'gate room, quickly stifled when Hammond surveyed his personnel with a scathing glare. Makepeace clenched his teeth and ground out a tight, "Yes, sir." He drew himself up and adjusted the jacket around his waist. Then, cloaked in as much dignity as he could muster under the circumstances, he strode towards the exit.

Jackson followed after him. "Colonel Makepeace," he began diffidently. When the Marine paused at the door and half turned to cock an annoyed glance at him, he continued, "Uh, could you please remember to drop the jewelry off at the archeology department?"

Makepeace goggled at him, doing a credible imitation of a stunned fish.

"They could be important cultural artifacts. It's amazing what you can determine about a society just from its jewelry...." Jackson's voice trailed away at the silent bile Makepeace directed at him.

Makepeace savagely stripped off the earrings and wrist bracelets, and flung them at Jackson. The archeologist only managed to catch one bracelet; the rest of the jewelry clattered to the floor. "You can have the rest after I figure out how to get it off," Makepeace snarled and stalked off.

"Touchy, touchy," O'Neill called after him, smirking. "What a beautiful day," he said to no one in particular, as he sauntered out of the 'gate room. Carter, Teal'c, and the remaining members of SG-3 hurried after him, wavering between embarrassment, guilt, and amusement. Jackson bent down and retrieved the rest of the jewelry. Clutching the baubles to his chest, he flashed a quick look at Hammond before scooting out the door. The expression on his face was unreadable.

General Hammond shook his head and wondered if he should anticipate or dread learning the details of this latest escapade. Dread, he decided, going over the behavior of all the players in the current drama. Definitely dread. With a heavy sigh, he sought refuge in his office. It was going to be a long day.

March, 2001

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