Annika felt the sudden excited shift of her husband’s mood, however she didn’t get a chance to mention it before Daniel erupted from the bushes and skidded to a halt.

"I’ve got it!" he announced triumphantly.

"Got what?" Jack and the others of SG-1 had bolted to their feet, their training kicking in to take a defensive stance in that second it took for them realize Daniel wasn’t being chased by a threat unknown.

Daniel spoke in one continuous stream. "Up in Mom and Dad’s workshop there’s a marble tablet with a man sitting on a chair the craftsmanship is exquisite with gold and jewels inlaid but there is a sloppy repair job with one of the jewels making up the armrest of the chair."

"Space Monkey, take a breath and let us catch up."

The archaeologist sucked in some air. "The misplaced jewel, it’s sticking out like a tiny drawer."

"The throne!" Annika caught on to where he was leading. "Of course! It’s got secret compartments."

"It’s the perfect hiding spot." Sam found Daniel’s enthusiasm contagious. "Ba’al spends the majority of his time there where he can keep an eye on it, and when he’s not, the troop of Jaffa on guard would stop any would be thieves. It’s never left alone…" As she realized the implications of what she’d just said, her shoulders slumped. "Crap."

"How can you be so sure it’s there?" Jack did his best not to get swept away by his kids’ enthusiasm.

"Logic," Daniel said matter-of-factly. "It’s the only place we haven’t looked."

"Snakes aren’t known for their powers of logic." The colonel kept playing devil’s advocate. Lost the battle when Teal’c added his two cents.

"When it comes to hoarding their prized possessions the Goa’uld are predicable in their actions."

"Okay, first order of business is to confirm it’s there, and swipe it if we can. If we’re lucky we can be out of here long before the summit."

They all tried to look hopeful at the idea, however in the back of their minds they were thinking that their brand of luck didn’t work that way.

"What are you talking about?"

SG-1 spun around at the baffled question from Melinda, all of them having temporarily forgotten they weren’t alone. The cover story they’d so carefully devised back in the rebel cave died on Daniel, Annika and Sam’s lips. None of them were able to tell the lie to the people who had raised them to tell the truth. Wordlessly they sought the opinion of their teammates.

Annika took a breath, deducing their collective decision. "Um…let’s just say today is going to hold quite a few surprises for our self-proclaimed god."

The parents conducted their own silent chat, their years of imprisonment forming as tight a bond as SG-1’s.

"You’re planning a rebellion?" Carrie asked.

Sam darted a look at Jack, wondering how much they should reveal. He gave a slight nod. "Of sorts," she answered. "As of right now there are three groups intending to take Ba’al down before the summit ends."

More looks, this time they reached a conclusion.

"What can we do to help?" The question came from Melburn, but they all looked expectant, eager.

"It’ll be safer for you down here." Daniel balked at the idea, his innate sense of morality rebelling. It would be wrong on so many levels to have their parents fight for what would ultimately be their own deaths. Charlie was different, he knew what the stakes were, but his parents…nope, he couldn’t let them do it.

"Safer be damned!" Justin waved their concern away. "We’ve been waiting for this day for years!"

"Dad, have you ever even fired a gun?" Annika countered. She was equally abhorred by the suggestion.

"Well, no…but neither have you…" He cut off at the subtle change in his daughter’s expression. "When?"

"More times than I’m happy with."

"The best form of assistance you can provide is to remain here," Teal’c stepped in. "Your kin will have enough to worry about without adding concern for your safety."

The belligerent, stubborn set to all five of their jaws, left no doubt in Jack’s mind that was another trait that had been passed down to their children. "Please, folks, we have a plan worked out, with contingencies." He paused. "We’ll see you when it’s all over."

None of his team visibly reacted to the promise that technically was true for the most part, just not in the way the older people took it.

Reluctantly they nodded their acquiescence, with Justin grumbling half seriously, "You kids get to have all the fun."

More coffee was fetched, along with breakfast once they realized that dawn had long since come and gone. SG-1 hashed out the finer details of their plans given this new development, plus they received an update from Janet, which they could use to their benefit.

The parents quietly observed a little off to one side.

Melburn kept his voice low, speaking to the people who had shared his life for the better part of eight years. "There’s something different about them."

"Yes, there is," Melinda agreed. "But I can’t put my finger on it."

"A confidence that I’ve never seen before." Carrie was specifically focused on her daughter, the way she interacted with not only the man she called her fiancé, but with the others. "They draw it from each other."

"Did they mention how they all met?" Justin wondered. It hadn’t taken a genius, even locked away as they were, to figure out that Ba’al had gone out of his way to make sure that at least Annika, Daniel and Samantha never crossed paths.

A half an hour later the whine of the rings announced that they had a visitor. A peek through the leaves identified Tarn’el, who headed in the direction of the building, assuming that Annika was inside.

"Okay, everyone set?" Jack raised an eyebrow at each of his team. They nodded. "Right, since Hammond’s not here to say it, good luck and Godspeed." He turned to Sam’s mom. "It was a pleasure to meet you, ma’am." He looked to the other parents. "A treat to meet all of you. And don’t worry, I’ll take care of your kids."

From within the house they heard the Jaffa calling for Annika.

"Let the song and dance begin," the colonel quipped. "Casper, do your thing…and, folks, remember," he grinned at Claire, the Jacksons and the Murdochs, placing his index finger to his lips, "Shhhh."

The rest of SG-1 rolled their eyes at their leader’s antics as Annika wove the fold of air around him and he disappeared.

All five parent’s mouths dropped open, but before they could utter a word of exclamation the four visible members of the team mischievously held their own fingers to their lips, mimicking their CO, and the older people’s mouths snapped shut. Daniel, Sam, Teal’c and Charlie blended into the foliage a few seconds before the Jaffa appeared.

He gave a half bow. "My Lady, Lord Ba’al is requesting your presence."

"No rest for the wicked." Annika gave mock sigh then stepped over to her parents. She hugged them tightly, knowing that this would be the last time she would ever get to do so, fought back the tears that threatened to spill over. "Love you," she whispered, giving them each a kiss.

"Love you too, kiddo," Justin replied for both him and his wife. Their reciprocated embrace equally as fierce, though for them it was wishing her good luck, unaware of the finality of the moment.

Tarn’el waited for her, giving slight nods of acknowledgement to the others. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt like there were more sets of eyes watching him than the prisoners’. He mentally shook the feeling aside, dismissing it as ridiculous. There was no one else in sight. "My Lady, Our Lord is impatient."

"Yeah, there’s a shocker." Annika pulled herself together, and drew away. "Okay, lead on, McDuff." She couldn’t resist one final look back at her parents, who gave her a small wave, doing their best to mask their anxiety for her safety. A wave back and Annika turned her mind to the mission. There would be time for reflection, and most likely tears, later. She felt Jack touch her arm, letting her know that he was with her and she began walking with her escort from the sanctuary the prison had provided for the night.

Annika waited until they had ringed up and were walking through the ship’s corridor before taking a deep breath, steeling herself for the verbal tap dance to come. "Tarn’el, I’ve been approached by a few of Our Lord’s subjects about the Dor’maeti’us."

He waited patiently for her to continue.

She linked her arm with his. "They’d like to participate, to show the visiting gods how much Lord Ba’al means to them." She kept her voice low, though it was unnecessary. Though still quite early the corridors were bustling with people rushing to get the preparations for the upcoming ceremony done in time. The consort and her guard weren’t acknowledged except for them to automatically step from their path with lowered eyes. "They want to pay homage by presenting some gifts."

"I see." He regarded her solemnly. "Does Our Lord Ba’al know of this homage?"

"Nope. I thought it would be a nice surprise." Annika stepped into the elevator, being careful to allow room on her right for her invisible CO to follow her in.

The Jaffa studied her for a long moment, not buying her innocent expression. "You play a dangerous game, My Lady." He tapped the glyph to take them above.

"You know me, live life on the wild side."

"Why do you tell me this?"

"Well, they’re a little nervous about performing for so many gods, and I was wondering if you could meet them at the gate and escort them here. Give them a friendly face to ease the butterflies."

"I assume they will be bringing the gifts with them?" His tone was unreadable.

"Yep. There wasn’t time to send them in earlier." Annika waited with baited breath for his response. It didn’t help that she could feel Jack tense beside her, knew that he had the zat’ poised to fire.

"When are they expected to arrive?"

Jack tapped her elbow then gave a second lighter tap.

"A hour and a half."

There was a lengthy pause.

"That does not leave much time to before the Dor’maeti’us," he said slowly. "It would not bode well for you if they were late, delaying the summit. I shall make sure they are not detained upon arrival."

"Thank you, Tarn’el." Her heart pounded in relief and she gave his hand a pat. "You have been a good friend."

"Forgive me, My Lady." His hand closed over hers, stopping their exit into the corridor that was even busier than the levels below. "But that sounds like a farewell."

Annika pretended to ponder her words. "It did come out that way, didn’t it?"

The Jaffa’s next words were very carefully phrased. "If time does not permit for me to say in the future, I believe you have always conducted yourself honorably in a dishonorable position."

She had to swallow the sudden lump in her throat. She’d been right. This warrior who should have been her enemy had formed a friendship with her counterpart. The knowledge eased a little of the pain of what her other self had gone through, knowing that she hadn’t been entirely alone through it all. She gave him a watery smile then started walking again. She really needed a change of subject before she caused a blubbering spectacle of herself. "You’ll be at this hoopla today?"

He was amused by the question. "As your personal guard it is my duty to protect you, where else would I be?"

"Of course." Annika frowned. Talking to this man was worse than deciphering Oma Desala’s riddles. She understood why he spoke so formally and so carefully to her. If their conversation was overheard, for both her safety and his, the subject matter had to be easily explained away. Knowing that didn’t make it any easier to read between the lines. She focused on the inflections he used. "You protect me from everyone, Tarn’el?"

"Our Lord’s instructions were quite clear. Your well being is my primary directive. I have oft been reminded that this mandate supersedes any and all subsequent orders."

She was quiet as she deciphered his words. Had he just said he would protect her even if Ba’al himself were holding the weapon?

He saw her confusion and lowered his voice even further. "It is what you think, My Lady, and it is my great honor to do so."

"Like I said, Tarn’el, you are a good friend." One of the kitchen slaves dashed passed them, her arms laden with bolts of richly colored brocade that would decorate the dining tables. "The hoopla should be quite exciting."

"Indeed, if things go to plan," he agreed, opening a side door to the throne room that was just as busy as the corridor. "Do you require assistance in the final preparations given your altered plans?"

"No, everything’s under control." Annika knew he wasn’t talking of the ceremony. She didn’t think he knew precisely of their plans, only that something was going to happen. She also knew that he would not betray her to Ba’al. "But maybe afterwards those Jaffa muscles of yours could come in handy."

"I am at your service," he replied, holding the door open for her to precede him.

Despite being forewarned thanks to Janet’s update, Annika stopped short when she received her first good look at the throne room. Hid the grin that threatened to spread across her face. "Mishap with the sprinklers?"

"Observant of you, My Lady," Tarn’el teased from the side of his mouth, though to the casual observer he maintained the formal stance of his station.

Annika lifted her skirt slightly so it wouldn’t get wet and with wide eyes, that weren’t really an act, began picking her way across the puddle strewn floor. Everything in sight was completely drenched, including Ba’al who looked like a drowned rat, angrily pacing the area in front of his throne, his shoes squelching with every step, glowering at the slaves scurrying around him with mops and buckets. The urge to laugh was just too strong and she lowered her eyes so he wouldn’t see the mirth in them. "You sent for me, My Lord?"

The Goa’uld’s expression softened fractionally at the sight of her, then his eyes flashed gold as a trickle of water partly blinded him. "Who has been sabotaging my ship?"

She pretended to ‘search’ for the answer. "I sense no malice, My Lord."

"You are certain?" His gold-black depths narrowed suspiciously.

"As certain as my gift allows." She raised her head a little, her eyes seeming to follow Ba’al’s agitated strides but really were focused on the throne itself. Like when searching for the zatarc intel, the glyphs and patterns that had repeatedly been touched with ‘intent’ stood out to her third eye. There were four possibilities; one on each armrest, the other two in the side casing. Also, beneath the residual essence of Ba’al that covered the golden seat there was slight lingering ‘whisper’ of Daniel, not the Daniel of this time but of her husband. And the only way that could be was if her Daniel had touched something being held within it. She should have been happy to have this confirmation that the mirror attachment was there, however something nagged at her that she couldn’t quite put her finger on. "The incidents must be a series of unfortunate malfunctions."

"On the day of the Ka’laeti’is? I think not."

Still puzzling out the mystery of the throne, she didn’t have a chance to react as Ba’al took a single step detour from his pacing towards her and snapped a coil of cold metal around her neck.

"I ask again, who is sabotaging my ship?"

Annika’s hand scrabbled to the jeweled necklace, tugging in vain to remove it, feeling a minute vibration as the technology activated. She heard McKay’s warning in her head from when he had explained what he knew about the collar that had inspired his modifications to the memory device, and what she herself had learned from her visions of this time. First and foremost, don‘t lie. Fighting down the surge of panic at being collared, she replied, "I don’t know, My Lord." Technically it was the truth. She didn’t know who any of Janet’s spies were that had caused the stream of mishaps that had kept Ba’al frustratingly busy all night.

"You will come with me to the affected areas. Touch everything until you see who is behind this." He gripped her roughly by the arm, dragging her towards the door.

Images flashed across her vision. Heart in her throat she deciphered what she’d been shown, scared that SG-1’s plan would be revealed. The fright gave way to a thud of relief. "My Lord, some of the other god’s will begin to arrive early…within a half hour."

His hold tightened painfully. She didn’t need her sixth sense to guess the dilemma Ba’al found himself in. Find a possible saboteur, or look like an incompetent, unorganized fool in front of the other Goa’uld he was trying to impress if they arrived to find the ship in such a shambles. Reaching a decision, he thrust her away. "Go to the guest chambers. The last ‘malfunction’ flooded them as well. Use whomever and whatever you need to see that the quarters are made presentable before the first of them arrive." He spun on his heel, splashing through the puddles to his private chambers, intending to change from his sopping clothes, his own presentation as important as his ship’s.

"As you wish, My Lord," Annika called after him, though if the Goa’uld hadn’t been so distracted, he would have questioned the absent tone she used. She had turned around to watch his stalking retreat but the slave woman wiping down the throne was what caught her attention. Under her breath she muttered, "Houston, we have a problem."

She felt a familiar tap at her elbow, Jack telling her that he had heard her. She did a one-eighty and practically ran from the room. It gave a good impression of the loyal consort rushing to do her god’s will, when in reality she was anxious to get to the privacy of the guest quarters so she could openly talk with Jack.

Tarn’el, though a little surprised by her immediate willingness to obey Ba’al, followed her out as was his duty, being hard pressed to keep pace with her. Any slave she saw not doing a task she ordered to go with her. By the time she reached the elevator she had a dozen people in tow, none of whom were too happy about being commandeered, however all too scared of what she may do to them if they said they had other assignments. As the doors slid open and two men stepped out, her hand shot out, pointing a finger at them.

"You, you’ve just got a change of duty. You’re both coming with me."

Both men’s eyes widened at her haughty demand, then the older of the two gave disdainful snort. "You have no authority over me."

Annika waved the slaves behind her onto the elevator. "Go to the guest chambers and start stripping the sheets and replace anything water damaged. You’ve less than thirty minutes to get the entire floor spic-and-span or answer to Lord Ba’al."

The slaves crowded in the small carriage and she rounded back on the men.

"Right at this moment I have every authority. Now turn your butts around." She gave a small twist of her wrist and both men suddenly found themselves facing back the way they’d come.

"Your parlor tricks don’t scare me," he scoffed. "I’m on Lord Ba’al’s business."

"Yes, you are, rock boy," she smiled sweetly at him. "But you’ve been promoted to the rank of scullery maid."

When he looked like he was about to object again, Tarn’el stepped in. "My Lady speaks with Lord Ba’al’s full authority in this matter."

Blue eyes stared balefully at him, then he gave a reluctant shrug. "Fine, as My Lady wishes." He motioned with his head for the younger man to follow with them.

They waited in stony silence for the lift to come back. When it did, there were two more people inside who never got the chance to exit.

"Oh good, two more lucky volunteers." Annika blocked their path and the others stepped in.

Clearly still annoyed at having to acquiesce to the redhead, the first man pushed up his glasses on his nose and gave a retort of ‘explanation’ to the bewildered pair. "We’ve been promoted to domestics."

The ride down was tensely silent. When they emerged one level down, it was to find the earlier slaves already madly working to prepare the first of the rooms.

Annika cast a glance at Tarn’el. "We’ll start at the other end. Can you grab us some mops, please?"

The Jaffa warily eyed the four latest recruits but she nipped his doubts in the bud. "Don’t worry, I can keep them in line." She gave a waggle of her fingers, indicating her telekinesis.

Tarn’el gave a short bow. "I shall return presently."

She nodded and led the way down the hall.

When they entered the room farthest from the other slaves, their belligerent attitudes disappeared.

"Rock boy?" Daniel chuckled.

"Parlor tricks?" Annika countered, releasing her hold of the Nox trick and Jack reappeared.

"Alright, Casper, what’s up?" the colonel demanded.

"It’s the throne."

"The device isn’t there?" Sam asked anxiously.

"I’m pretty sure it is," Annika relayed that fear. "There are four compartments that I could tell. But the servant cleaning it…" she tapered off, her hand distractedly tugging at the jeweled collar around her neck. "Jeez, this thing is tight."

"What about the servant?" Daniel moved behind her, pushing her hair aside to get a closer look at the necklace, to see if he could remove it. Frowned when he could see no identifiable seam in the metal indicating the clasp.

"Well, she was dabbing on some sort of oil with her fingers to buff the gold." The psychic held still, hoping Daniel could figure out how to get the collar off. "By fluke she touched the glyphs in the right sequence."

Jack, who had also witnessed the slave woman, picked up on where Annika was going. He gave a frustrated sigh. "The compartment didn’t open."

As the significance of that sunk in, Daniel was still focused on the jeweled necklace. "Teal’c, have you seen something like this before?"

The Jaffa leaned forward, visually inspecting it. "I have seen similar designs on the lo’tars of other System Lords. It indicates their position as first concubine, however the lack of a discernable clasp is a puzzlement."

"Ba’al must have some sort of failsafe in place so that not just anybody can open the throne’s compartments." Sam speculated, also leaning in to inspect the collar. "Wow, the workmanship on this is beautiful." She traced the intricate pattern etched into the solid band of gold.

There was a soft click and the metal at the base of Annika’s neck separated.

"What did you do?" Daniel demanded incredulously. He was positive he’d touched that segment of the necklace.

"Nothing." The major was just as bewildered.

"Care factor, zilch!" Annika yanked it away and threw it on the bed.

Charlie was the first to pick the jewel technology up with a small frown. "Well, there goes McKay’s theory out the door."

"What theory?" Jack quirked an eyebrow.

"Oh, he had some far out idea that only Ba’al could remove it. Apparently in the early years there was evidence that Annika had tried to remove it herself, scratches and welts around her neck." He gave Annika an apologetic smile. "You know, he was the only person I know who ever entertained the notion you weren’t willingly doing Ba’al’s bidding, at least not to begin with." Upon impacting the bed, the necklace had once again snapped shut, and Charlie was trying to open it again with no luck. "But I guess the fact that Samantha got it to open just proves there’s nothing more than a knack to it."

"Let me have a go."

Charlie tossed the jewelry to his dad.

The second it landed in the colonel’s hand, the clasp once again separated.

A second of stunned silence and recognition dawned on the faces of SG-1. Wordlessly Jack closed it and passed the necklace to Annika, who no matter how she tried couldn’t open it. Teal’c had no more problem than Jack and Sam.

"It’s not specific to one particular Goa’uld," Sam explained to Charlie, the only one of the group left in the dark. "It’s specific to naquadah. Teal’c has it in his blood because he is Jaffa. Jack and I have it because we were both once hosts."

Charlie’s mouth dropped open in shock. "You were Goa’uld?"

"No, we were Tok’ra." Jack repressed a shiver at the memory. "Apparently there’s a difference, though I have doubts about my so called benevolent snake."

"Tok’ra?"

"Long story, one I really wish I could forget."

Teal’c was thoughtfully studying the technology in his hand. "If this is designed to work for Goa’uld and Jaffa, then would it not stand to reason that other devices work in the same manner?"

Annika grinned. "Like the throne."

"Well, that throne room is busier than grand Central Station. Even if one of us three," Jack indicated himself, Sam and Teal’c, "could get close enough with Casper making us go Marco, someone is gonna notice the compartments magically popping open."

The others agreed. Even in the short time they’d been on the ship this morning, they’d noticed the anxiousness of not only the slaves but the Jaffa. The night of malfunctions, while serving their purpose, had made the ship’s personnel highly jumpy and highly observant, especially with the start of the summit so near.

"So we wait until all hell breaks loose after the Dor’maeti’us?" Sam said it more as a statement than a question.

With their plan finally agreed upon, now that they had located and confirmed all that they needed to know, it was both an anxious, yet contradictorily peaceful two hours. They maintained their covers by doing as Ba’al had ordered, drying and preparing the quarters. It kept them ‘busy’ in what on any other mission would be the ‘hurry up and wait’ stage, as they waited for their window of opportunity. The necklace was replaced around Annika’s neck, though her thick waves of hair concealed the strip of material that had been secured over one end of the clasp preventing it from closing.

Knowing how demanding one Goa’uld on his own could be, SG-1 were laying their bets that once the other System Lords began arriving early, Ba’al wouldn’t have the time to focus on his pet Tau’ri. And they were right, for the most part. Apophis made a grand entrance, hovering his ha’tak above Ba’al’s, ringing into the base grounds with two troops of Jaffa escorts and his personal slaves. Within minutes Bastet and Zipacna had also arrived each with just as large an entourage. Teal’c had to duck out of sight whenever Apophis or his Jaffa were near, especially when they realized that Bra’tac had been reassigned as First Prime due to Teal’c’s unexplained disappearance. Jack also had to lie low when Ba’al walked the halls, on the off chance that the Goa’uld deigned to actually look at the slaves and recognized him as one he’d supposedly killed. However as more Goa’uld arrived, the corridors were filling with unfamiliar faces and it made blending in easier. Daniel and Annika were commandeered at different points to escort the visitors to their quarters, and like dutiful little slaves, they did as asked, which was all the attention that Ba’al paid to them.

True to his word, Tarn’el was at the main entrance to the base when the ‘tribute’ gifts arrived. He barely batted an eyelid as he ordered the forty odd men and women to follow him. None of the gate Jaffa questioned his authority to skip the required search of all deliveries; his position as second in command to their First Prime was well known. Tarn’el escorted the rebels to a side room on the throne level, where Annika and her team were anxiously waiting. After they had filed in, he gave a short bow to Annika. "My Lady, I shall see that you are not disturbed so you might finish preparations for your performance."

"Thank you, Tarn’el." The redhead gave him a grateful smile.

The door had barely shut before the crates were cracked open. Hammond had really come through for them. Crate after crate revealed gold, jewels and finery that made Tiffany & Co seem like a cheap discount store. One of the final boxes revealed what they really wanted. Wrapped carefully in bolts of the finest silk was a collection of guns, grenades, their P-90s and a small cube of C-4.

Feeling much better about their plan now that they were fully armed, they curiously opened two extra crates. There was a note from Hammond pinned to the item packed on top.

SG-1 rifled through the contents with surprise.

"Where did Hammond find these at such short notice?" Jack asked with a smirk. He always knew the General had a sense of humor underneath that no nonsense exterior.

"Just because Ba’al banned Christmas didn’t mean we stopped celebrating it," Charlie grinned, then a frown creased his brow as he noticed a post script on the back of his 2IC’s note. "That’s odd."

"What?" Sam was rummaging through one of the bonus crates.

"George said he would have sent your packs, but they seem to have vanished."

"Someone took them?" Daniel tilted his head puzzled. Charlie’s rebels were a moral group, anything they ‘stole’ was from the Goa’uld, not from their own. "We didn’t have anything important in them, did we?"

"Well, my dirty socks are of vital national importance," Jack quipped.

"Yeah, as a new bio-weapon," Sam said drolly.

"No," Charlie answered Daniel’s question. "They had it on camera. The packs just vanished."

"Seems to be a common occurrence lately," Annika mused, referring to their counterparts’ vanishing acts.

They nodded, and though still puzzled they refocused on the task at hand.

Charlie had just finished a final run through with his people when Tarn’el reappeared. His eyes widened at what he saw but didn’t comment, his gaze searching for Annika.

"The Lords are ready for the Ka’laeti’is to begin."

Annika gave a nod, fighting down a bout of nerves, looked to her team who all took a deep calming breath.

Jack did a once over sweep, making sure that everyone and everything was in place. "Okay, kids," he addressed everyone in the room. "Traditionally this would be the time to say ‘break a leg’, but I personally don’t recommend that to anyone."

Tense chuckles rumbled throughout the rebels.

"We all know what do to, why we’re here. So without further ado, let’s give Ba’al the tribute he so richly deserves." Though Jack was careful not to let sarcasm inflect his tone, he wore a wicked grin, one that was matched by everyone in the room.

They gathered up their ‘tribute’ and marched out across the corridor, stopping at the closed throne room doors.

Daniel helped Annika adjust the hooded robe she wore, something she could have done herself, but it gave him an excuse to ‘openly’ caress her cheek as he tucked a lock of hair inside. "You okay?"

She nodded, tilting her head slightly so she could place a light kiss to his hand. "This will be the easy part." Took another breath. "Let’s get this show on the road."

Tarn’el opened the massive door for her and hefting the sack of ‘placating’ goodies over one shoulder, she slowly began the long walk of the room. Thirteen thrones were lined up, each one occupied by a Goa’uld, the glitter of their clothing outshining the gold of the chairs. Ba’al sat in the middle, his throne raised on a small dais so the six on each side, were sitting a head shorter than their host.

Annika found it totally unnerving to have so many snakeheads focused on her. Her heart pounded as Ba’al’s eyes narrowed at what she was wearing, for it was a far cry from the sexy costume he was expecting. She stopped a few meters from the Goa’uld and bowed low, removing her hood to reveal her face.

"My Lords, before the official opening ceremony that you are expecting, I could not forsake this opportunity with such distinguished guests present to express my devotion to my one true god…" she addressed the other Goa’uld, "to show my and the people of Earth’s gratitude that Lord Ba’al enlightened us to our misguided and heathen ways." Annika dared a look at Ba’al focusing more on his aura than his unreadable expression. His curiosity was piqued, and when she gave him what she hoped was an adoring shy smile, some of the wariness was replaced by indulgence. She continued on with her speech, still addressing the other Goa’uld. "Lord Ba’al in his infinite wisdom has let us retain some of our quaint customs, for we are a simple folk unaccustomed to change. In honor of his understanding we have adapted one of our tribute rituals, which we shall perform here on this auspicious occasion, in the traditional ceremonial garb of our people."

As she removed the sack from her shoulder, she saw that all of the Goa’uld were now curious though they did their best to hide it from the others. Holding the sack open with both hands, she gave them her most winning smile. "But first a gift for our prestigious guests." Focusing her will she lifted the individual items from the sack, lining them up to hover at chest level before floating them over to the dozen Goa’uld. She couldn’t help the twinkle to her eye as the Goa’uld pretended not to be impressed by this display of ‘magic’, examining their treasures for evidence of how the trick had been performed.

Apophis leaned close to Ba’al, his gaze never leaving Annika and he whispered, "Your lo’tar is enchanting."

Ba’al’s expression was smug, his annoyance at her improvisation dimming at the hushed astounded murmurs of those around him, envying his possession of such a gifted slave. "Yes, she is. And I will not trade her at any cost." He openly smiled at his rival’s flash of irritation at the preemptive refusal of negotiation.

Annika gave a demure bow, "My Lord, I humbly present to you our tribute." She swept an arm aside, walking backwards at a slight angle, so that all eyes were drawn to the entrance.

On cue there was the sound of drums and four men dressed in Santa suits, complete with beards and fur trimmed hats, stood abreast, paused for half a beat then marched in, drumming out the introduction of the song ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’. A dozen steps in and Annika began reciting the first line of the lyrics that they had adapted.

"On the first day of Ka’laeti’is your true love gave to thee…"

The drummers divided off into pairs, revealing two more Santas carrying a large topiary shrub in an elaborate gold pot. By total fluke, one of the trinkets Hammond had included was a delicate golden wire bird, inlaid with jewels.

"A partridge in a pear tree…"

When the second verse started the Santas with the tree joined their voices with Annika’s, depositing their tribute at the front of the dais and walked diagonally backwards to the opposite side of the room from the psychic, making room for the next tribute to be placed down. The gift this time wasn’t ‘themed’ to the lyrics, but the Goa’uld didn’t seem to mind. Their greedy little souls were transfixed by the sparkling shining gems and jewelry that was being laid before them.

And so it went. The singing became louder as each new group of Santas lent their voices to the repetitive melody. Chest after chest of baubles and glitter and fine brocades of cloth were paraded in, the Santas growing in numbers with every verse, splitting into two lines on either side of the great room. If the Goa’uld had been able to drag their eyes away from the mounting pile of treasure, they might have noticed that there were four of the fur trimmed slaves dressed in the same garb as their host’s lo’tar. Rather than the coat and pants of a modern day Santa, they were cloaked in the more old fashioned Victorian Saint Nicholas. Long velvet robes with hoods that hid their bodies underneath. As the final verse drew to its conclusion and the last gift was delivered, the slaves closed in, forming a red and white line behind the tribute. On the last note, the suited Santas dropped to their knees in humble subservience, leaving the five robed slaves standing in the centre.

Annika paused for dramatic effect then spoke directly to Ba’al. "My Lord, I hope this homage pleases you."

"Indeed, My Beloved." Ba’al’s smile was gloating. "It is a suitable display of your affection. One for which you will be rewarded."

"I can hardly wait, My Lord." She gave him a sickly sweet smile. "But it would be wrong for me to accept your kind reward if I did not perform the original Dor’maeti’us as you requested."

"Then by all means please continue." He gave a regal wave of his hand. "Entrance us with your sensual dance."

Her expression turned coy. "As you wish, My Lord. I believe the Dor’maeti’us is a dance of seduction, what we Tau’ri call a strip tease." Slowly she began to fiddle with the trim of her robe, being careful not to reveal what she wore underneath.

The male Goa’uld shifted slightly in their seats, leaning forward in anticipation.

"You’re sure you want this, My Lord?" she asked huskily.

"I’m positive, My Beloved," Ba’al purred.

Annika gave a nonchalant shrug. "Okay." She let the robe fall from her shoulders, tugging the collar free from her neck and tossing it on the pile of trinkets in front of her. Her teammates did the same, pulling off the beards that had hidden their identities.

Ba’al rocked back his seat, recoiling from the sight of the five military garbed people, staring defiantly at him. Recognizing the team he had so painstakingly kept separated for all these years; that somehow despite his efforts ‘SG-1’ had found each other.

"Greetings from the true timeline," Jack snarled, raising his P-90.

"I’ve brought you some nourishment." He glided across the room, placed the tray he carried on the small table by her side and sat down. "Has there been any movement?"

"I saw a glimpse." She picked at the variety of nuts, her gaze not shifting from the two viewing devices she’d been staring at for more than a day by Earth’s measure of time. "But it was too quick to know if they are making progress."

"At least they are in the vicinity." He paused. "Was that necessary?" He pointedly looked at the five identical canvas bags stacked neatly in the corner of the room.

She gave a slight shrug. "They did not belong there." Her finger swirled a repetitive pattern in the armrest, an unconscious display of uncharacteristic anxiety. "Do you think they will retaliate?"

"Is that not what we are relying on?" He titled his head in confusion.

"I don’t mean there," she gestured to the viewing portals. "I mean against us."

"You know them better than I, what do you think?"

"They are a passionate people, this group especially. Ruled by their hearts more than logic, and that makes them erratic, unpredictable. We have manipulated them into this position…"

"Others would call it guiding."

"A distinction they may not be in any fit state to recognize if they are successful."

He gave her hand a pat. "Then we shall have to…what is that quaint term they use?…Cross our fingers, that their capacity to forgive is greater than their vengeance."

She didn’t answer and the room descended into silence as they both watched, waited and hoped.