DISCLAIMER: All publicly recognisable characters and property of Stargate SG-1 belong to MGM/UA, World Gekko Corp. and Double Secret Productions.  This fan fiction was created solely for entertainment purposes and no money was made from it.  Also, no copyright or trademark infringement was intended.  Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.  Any other characters, the storyline and the actual story are the property of the author.  Not to be archived without permission of the author(s).

Part Seven: by PHO

Daniel struggled to focus on the material draped over his arm. Ignoring Boch's presence, he gingerly rose to his feet, clutching the new clothing. It appeared to be some sort of silk, intricately woven, soft and sensual to the touch. Shirt, pants. Okay, he could go with that. But the sash? What the hell? Blood red and long ... very, very long. Confusion played over his features bringing a loud snort to Boch's lips. "It goes around your waist, Doctor."

"I knew that." He tossed the clothing to the floor. "But if it's all the same to you, I'll just keep my uniform, thank you very much."

"Ah, but it isn't 'all the same to me'." Boch smiled as he pointed a zat gun at the young man. "I'm sure you know what this does."

Daniel nodded grimly. "You won't kill me."

"No, but I will give you enough of a charge to incapacitate you. Then of course I'll strip you and dress you." Boch ran his eyes up and down the young man, whose features reddened with embarrassment. "Don't normally go in for that sort of thing, but ..."

The young man stared unblinking at his feet. "I..I'll wear your clothing."

Cantor Boch smiled a predatory grin. "I thought you'd see it my way."

Turning, he pressed the keypad fastened securely to his wrist, and stepped quickly through the opening door. A quick wave over his shoulder was all Daniel saw as the metal plates snapped shut once more.

"Any action out there?" The voice from the doorway startled the young Airman on duty in the control room.

Whirling, he smiled nervously and started to salute the pretty SG-1 Major.

Sam waved off his salute. "Any word?"

"No, Ma'am. We've been receiving reports, every hour on the hour, but so far they've been status quo."

"I see." Sam moved to stare at the gate. "Impressive, isn't it."

"Yes, Ma'am, it is."

"Johnson, isn't it?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"Like pulling the third shift?"

"Ma'am!" He put all the indignation he dared into the almost protest, never noticing Sam entering commands into the Stargate computer.

She smiled and turned to face the young man. "I see. Coffee fresh?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

Nodding Sam walked to the coffeemaker and poured a cup, then started back to the controls. The young Airman was staring in confusion at his display. "Something wrong?"

"Ma'am, I'm really glad you came in. This display's gone all ... all loppy-jawed."

Sam moved quickly to his side. "Is that a technical term, Airman?"

"No, Ma'am, I just don't... It's stopped." He looked in disbelief at the monitor.

"Well, whatever was wrong is fine now. Leave a message for first shift to run a full sequence diagnostic." Turning to leave, Sam lost her balance and stumbled into the startled man, her cup of coffee pouring down his pants.

Yelping, he jumped backwards and began grabbing for napkins to mop up the mess.

"Holy Hannah! I am so sorry, Johnson."

"It's all right, Ma'am. Accidents happen."

"Johnson, I'll watch the control room. You go change your pants."

"Ma'am."

"It's okay, Airman, I do know what to look for." Sam smiled as she spoke.

"Yes, Ma'am." The young man took advantage of the Major's generosity and quickly left the room. Sam watched him leave, then sadly shook her head, doing mental somersaults as she tried to justify her duplicity. She moved her hand to start the dialing sequence, when the Klaxons began their warning sequence. "What the..."

"Carter?" Jack's voice came through her ear phone loud and clear. "You should already be down here."

"Sir, I didn't dial. We've got incoming."

Cursing under his breath, Jack motioned for his team to abort.

Jacob Carter breathed a sigh of relief as he entered the briefing room and spotted his only daughter already at the table. O'Neill sat across from her looking glum, Teal'c was next to him looking ... unreadable, as usual. The Tok'ra sitting next to Colonel Makepeace was well known to Jacob's symbiont, but was unknown as yet to the SG teams. General Hammond nodded a greeting as Jacob and Martouf took the remaining empty seats at the table. "Gentlemen. I apologize for the late hour, but fortunately," Hammond eyed the SG-1 team members suspiciously as he spoke, "SG-1 and Colonel Makepeace were already present. I believe you know Vardon?"

Selmac moved into control of Jacob. "Indeed. Old friend, it is good to see you alive."

Vardon nodded. "Likewise, Selmac, but I bring news of an adequate nature."

Jacob / Selmac's eyes widened. "Indeed. What?"

"Daniel Jackson has arrived on Torvahn. He is as yet unharmed."

"Then we're too late." Jack's voice was downcast as he spoke.

"No. Apparently there is a late entrant into the bidding who cannot arrive for a few days. The auction has been postponed. We have time to get there."

"And exactly how will we do that, Vardon? I don't think a Tok'ra ship will exactly be welcome on Torvahn."

A slight smile softened Vardon's harsh features. "No, but Aris Boch should have no problem getting a team in place."

Hammond templed his fingers. "Aris Boch? SG-1 has experience with the man, don't you?" His question was addressed to Jack.

Not daring to meet his teammates' eyes, Jack muttered softly. "Yes, sir, General. We've had an 'encounter' with Mr. Boch."

Aris Boch eyed the text before him with something akin to dismay mixed with exhilaration. He loved a challenge, but ... Torvahn? Ugh! But then again with Sok'ar dead, maybe it wouldn't be a problem, and the opportunity for profit was great. He closely studied the terms of the agreement proposed by the Tok'ra. Generous, very generous, but then they were seeking the return of Daniel Jackson. Aris shook his head at the thought, then grinned. There were other good things to be said of this new venture ... Samantha Carter being one of them. True, he'd have to deal with O'Neill and that Jaffa again, but the pretty blond might just be worth it. Might. Checking the wording one last time, he fixed his seal on the document, then opened a channel and idly watched as the holographic image sped its way back to the Tok'ra.

The mood in the Gate room was subdued. The three remaining members of SG-1, plus one stubborn Marine, were watching as the Chevrons began to engage. George Hammond stared at the group, wondering once more just how he'd been talked into this. He should have sent SG-11. The diplomatic unit would have been more than capable of handling the negot... But it wasn't negotiations, was it? His people were going in, undercover, as buyers. The thought made him shudder. They were going to attempt to buy Dr. Jackson. No, they were going to succeed in buying Dr. Jackson. The voice announcing that the third Chevron had engaged attracted his attention. It was now or never. "Colonels, a word."

O'Neill and Makepeace moved hastily toward the General. "Sir?"

Hammond studied the gate for a moment, as the fourth Chevron began to glow. "Colonels, two things. First of all good luck with your assignment." He held up a hand to forestall their thanks. "Secondly, if you ever try a stunt like you did the night before last, I will personally see to it that you are reduced to cleaning latrines for the remainder of your military careers."

The stunned expressions on the two Colonels' faces confirmed for Hammond what he'd really only suspected, but years of command allowed him to conceal that reaction. The two men recovered, responding with a brisk, "Yes, sir! Thank you, sir!"

"Chevron seven engaged!" The loudspeaker pulled the two Colonels back to where Teal'c and Sam stood waiting, as the flux from the Star Gate energy field rushed down the ramp, then retreated.

Jack took one last look at the General, then motioned to his people. "Let's go, kids."

Makepeace favored him with a frown, then led the way up the ramp. A startled Carter gave a sideways glance at O'Neill before falling in step behind the Marine. Teal'c followed closely on their heels. O'Neill never looked back as he pushed his way into the energy flow. As the Star Gate shut down, Hammond said a silent prayer. "God speed, my friends."

He'd never been so scared. Well, that wasn't quite true. But this rated right up there, along with his first night in the orphanage, and losing Sha're. Cantor Boch had delivered him to the people, he used that term loosely, who ran the auction. Daniel supposed he could count his blessings that he'd been considered valuable enough to be kept separate from the other slaves. And the once-overs. God! The only thing they hadn't done was count his teeth. Shit!

Oh God! Footsteps. Marching footsteps. It was time. Oh God! Daniel stood quickly, determined to maintain his dignity for as long as possible. A shaking hand straightened the sash that wrapped around his waist. He really didn't care for this outfit. As far as he was concerned, he looked like Zorro, sans sword and mask. The black pants were tight at the ankles and waist, but loose and flowing in between. The slit along the outer legs from ankle to waistband annoyed the heck out of him, but there wasn't anything he could do about it. And the shirt. Shit! The sleeves tightened almost uncomfortably around his wrists, then turned into something akin to sails as they approached his shoulders. And there were no buttons. The front of the shirt opened in a V-shape that only stayed together at the bottom because of the sash. And that had gone around his waist three times before it was short enough not to trip him as he walked. He just wished they'd let him keep his shoes. The floor was really cold on his bare feet.

He thought it odd that those in charge had chosen to keep Cantor Boch's choice of clothing for him. But he wasn't arguing. He'd expected some sort of short, revealing tunic. Shuddering at the thought, he turned to face the door. The metal plate slid smoothly open and four, count them, four very large guards entered the room. Guess they considered him dangerous. Ha! Jack would get a laugh out of that. Restraints were quickly placed on his wrists and ankles, and just as quickly he was urged from the room. Oh God! Jack, help?

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