• Summary: A treasure map has Jack and Daniel encountering real pirates and one of the Ancients.
• G [A]

Prologue

Doctor Freshman gave a visible jump as the metal detector beeped loudly in his ear. Bare trees and sparse vegetation pushed at the deep sandy beach, his location just within the shade of a scrawny palm. Towering above the scene, the Stargate shimmered in the midday sun. He raised his eyes quickly to where the rest of SG19 were returning from their abortive search; their khaki-clad forms mere specks in the distance. The island was long and slim, bisected by a tract of trees that, though not thick, effectively hid the further shore and bays. Idyllic came to mind as the soft breeze blew around him and the sun shone warmly on his back.

Freshman scanned the detector over the area one more time; just one hit in the hour he had been wandering along the beach. Major Marks had been less than enthusiastic about bringing along an archaeologist, and, after confirming that there were no visible life signs anywhere nearby, had sent Freshman back to the ‘gate where he had amused himself looking for artefacts that might have been buried under the loose earth - the island looking as though it had stepped from the pages of Treasure Island.

Flagging the epicentre of the hit, he sank down on his knees and began to move the soft sandy earth with careful fingers. By the time the team had rejoined him, he had dug down some two and a half feet until he had exposed a fragment of cracked wood. Working with care, hanging headfirst into the hole he had excavated, he brushed delicately at the tantalising find. As more of the wood came to light, he felt his stomach tighten with anticipation – there were the faint signs of writing etched into the fragile material. Suddenly the light was blocked out above him as Marks came to stand at his side.

"What are you doing, Freshman? Pack up, let’s go. There’s nothing on this island but birds and guano. Lots and lots of guano." The major snorted his contempt. This was the third fruitless mission he had been on in the last month, and he was itching to do something more interesting than watch Freshman ooh and ah over vague scratchings on crumbling walls.

"I think," said Freshman, looking up at the man looming over him, "that you might want to take a look at this."

With a sigh, the major dropped to his knees and leaned over the hole. He could barely make out the slight indentation of letters against the age worn wood.

"What am I looking at?" he asked impatiently.

"This is one of the symbols Colonel O’Neill deciphered when he had the Ancients knowledge in his head."

Marks grinned, slapped Freshman on the back, and asked what he needed.

Chapter One

Daniel eyed the box from every angle. SG19 had brought it back through the Stargate over four hours ago. Security had x-rayed it immediately, revealing a solid object within its depths. It had then been subjected to a massive array of tests. Further scans revealed no indication of any form of radiation or hidden Goa'uld booby traps - in fact it seemed just an innocuous box, except for the writing that was barely legible on each of its sides.

It had been photographed in situ and again here at the base. Pictures taken from every vantage-point, the images having been rushed through processing, were now pinned up around his work board. Nothing on the box made sense though. It seemed that the letters had been scattered at random -–or in code, he thought suddenly.

Jack wandered into the office, hands tucked into his trouser pockets; an air of studied unconcern almost radiating from him. Daniel wasn’t fooled. When Marks had announced what they had found he had seen the anticipatory gleam in the older man’s eyes, swiftly followed by something that could have been concern. Though the latter had been but a brief shadow across the familiar features.

"Well?" Jack’s brow raised in inquiry.

Daniel's devil imp prodded at him and he decided to play dumb. Jack had been particularly annoying the last few days, having caught up with his paperwork and no mission to prepare for. The colonel had been in and out of Sam's lab, had badgered Teal'c to play basket ball with him, and had spent time rearranging Daniel's shelves by picking up every artefact and asking him for its history. Enough was enough.

"Well what?" he replied, raising his own eyebrow.

Jack nodded toward the box. "Anything interesting?"

Daniel launched straight into lecture mode, knowing how much it annoyed his friend. "Well, the wood is very similar to oak, hence the fact that it’s survived this long. The banding looks like silver, but it’s hard to tell right at the moment…"

"Daniel," Jack said dangerously.

Blue eyes gleamed with mischief, then he relented. "I haven’t opened it yet, but…"

"Well come on then. Open her up, let’s see what the Ancients left behind."

"You may be disappointed; I haven’t been able to decipher the box yet. It could say, ‘danger, do not open’, for all I can tell you right now – or it might have nothing to do with the box at all."

"Well there’s only one way to find out, right?"

Daniel pursed his lips, thinking. His overwhelming curiosity got the better of his good judgement. "Okay. But shut the door, just in case." Janet hadn't ruled out some form of microbe or airborne disease that could be trapped within the box. Though it seemed highly unlikely. Why bury a bio weapon? Why bury it at all for that matter? For a moment he thought about telling General Hammond what they were about to do, then quickly changed his mind. Time enough to bother the general when he had something definite to report.

Daniel took up a small probe and carefully slid it under the lid, raising it cautiously. Nothing leapt out, there was no sudden gust of wind to indicate he had released a genie from its bottle, just the stale smell of old wood assailed his nostrils. Jack came to stand at his shoulder, peering down at the box, his impatience barely controlled and almost palpable.

With gentle fingers, Daniel raised the lid further, tipping it back to reveal the dark interior. There, lying in solitary state, was what looked like a solid gold rod bare of any design. He frowned. This was getting more and more bizarre.

"Is that…" Jack's voice thundered suddenly in Daniel's ear.

"Yes, and I'm not deaf Jack, not yet anyway. Can you give me a little room here?" He shouldered his companion back and, with a piece of soft cloth, lifted the rod from its nesting place at the bottom of the box. It was heavier than he had anticipated, weighing his hand down. Turning it over carefully, he examined it for any markings. Smooth, glistening gold looked back at him. As he tipped it up, he felt something move within its length. The slightest adjustment of weight from one end to the other; and yet there seemed no sign of an opening, no crack to indicate that there was any access to the rod.

"Well?"

"I think," said Daniel slowly, "there's something inside this thing." He moved it under the desk lamp, turning it slowly around and around.

"Oh, give it here!" Jack exclaimed, grabbing it from the archaeologist's hands and ignoring the protestations. With a deft flick of his wrist, and a touch on the base of the golden receptacle, one end sprang open and a loosely rolled piece of dark coloured material fell onto Daniel's desk. One edge crumbling under the impact.

"How'd you do that?!" Daniel's protest echoed loudly. "You said you didn't remember anything that the Ancients put in your head." His eyes narrowed contemplatively, as though Jack were now a specimen for his dissection.

O'Neill shrugged, eyes firmly turned away from Daniel's penetrating gaze. "Guess something stuck after all. So, what is it?"

Questions whirled in Daniel's mind, each fighting for supremacy. How did Jack know how to open the rod? How did he know it even opened! Just how much of the Ancient's knowledge was still floating around in that military mind? His eyes coming to rest on the rolled material, his thoughts changed direction.

Tweezers were rescued from the back of a drawer and, with infinite patience, Daniel teased open the first layer, rolling back the leathery material millimetre by millimetre. The quiet was only disturbed by the soft sounds of air conditioning working hard overhead and the muffled thump of Jack's boots as he paced up and down in the cramped office space. Every couple of minutes he would come and stand at Daniel's shoulder, would open his mouth to ask his question, would be silenced by the aggravated look from those piercing blue eyes, and would return to pacing once more.

It had been a long time since Daniel had worked on something this delicate. Not since his restoration work in Egypt had something this fragile and potentially historic come his way. In all their travels through the Stargate they had found little evidence of the foremost race. Their writings having been limited to the circle on P3R 272 and the one photo he had from Ernest's planet. And although Jack had read the symbols, they had not had time to really go into the language structure. While some of the symbols on the box corresponded to those they had partially deciphered, others were totally new. And though the spoken language was close enough to an ancient form of Latin, the written letters were something completely new and different.

Each tiny movement caused another piece of the fragile relic to disintegrate. And it was with genuine relief that the he made the last turn of material and the full piece lay open for his review.

"Well?" Jack's voice made him jump. The colonel had been so quiet the last five minutes that Daniel had almost forgotten he was there.

Only the faintest of marks could be seen on the age darkened material. A bare outline seemed to enclose a number of symbols just too faint to be seen by the naked eye.

Daniel changed the bulb in his lamp, switched off the overhead lighting and watched with satisfaction as the faint marks became slightly clearer.

"Okay. I need Jameson down here, with all his equipment. I can’t risk moving this, it's already too fragile."

"But what is it?" Jack rumbled impatiently.

"I'm not really sure, but… I think it's a map."

***

SG1 sat around the large conference table waiting for General Hammond to appear. O'Neill, impatient as ever, drummed his fingers lightly on the dark wood.

"What did Daniel say this was?" Sam queried.

"Didn't. In fact our wonder boy threw me out of his office and spent the next three hours with Jameson taking numerous photo's, spraying something that smelled very unpleasant onto the thing - I swear that is still in the system. Can you smell it? Last I saw he was running up the stairs to Hammond's office, a very excited gleam in his eye!"

"Didn't he say anything at all about it?" Sam persisted. Knowing that the colonel had spent over two hours in Daniel's office before being summarily ejected.

"A map. Maybe. Possibly. That's all he'd say. And if he doesn't get here soon, I'm gonna…"

Hammond, Daniel at his heels, entered the room, effectively silencing Jack's implicit threat. Taking his seat at the head of the table, he indicated to Daniel to begin.

Lights dimmed and on the screen behind them the first shot of the box appeared.

"This is the artefact SG19 brought back earlier today. As you can see the markings are clearly symbols that we know were used by the Ancients. When we opened it this was inside." A crisp image of the gold rod appeared on the screen.

"Jack managed to open this… somehow. Anyway, this," the image changed again, "was rolled up inside. I was a little concerned about the material. As you can see it was already beginning to crumble in places but we managed to preserve the majority of it. After treatment you can see these symbols have appeared, here, and here, and here."

"Okay, we see them. Now what does it mean? What is 'it'?" Jack’s brittle tone cut across the table.

Daniel gathered their attention with a quick look around the room. "This is a map, as I first surmised. The symbols are those of the ancients, though it appears to be in code. At least nothing on here relates to the writings we have already found. From the layout, and the way the map is designed I would say this is a clue to something of great value."

"Are you telling us this is a treasure map? Oh come on."

"Colonel." Hammond's brisk tone brought back a little order to the room.

"The material also indicates that this has great importance…" Daniel hesitated. "I thought at first it was leather, but Janet confirmed that it is human skin. Or at least as close to our own constitution as to be almost undetectable. The symbols are tattooed with human blood…"

Every eye now focussed on the innocuous looking image behind Daniel's shadow.

"Why would anyone do that? That's barbaric!"

"It is not unheard of within the Jaffa, Major Carter," Teal'c replied. "In battle with certain system lords it was required that the mark of your enemy be brought back to prove how many had perished."

"Like taking scalps or marking notches on the bedpost - I get the idea," Jack uttered quietly.

"Right, that's it. But I need time to figure out what the symbols mean. I think they are directions, north, south, etc. And here, do you see this faint marking?" Daniel indicated the ghostly outline of a mark just on the very edge of the map. He moved on to the next slide. Seven symbols appeared and one partial. Stargate symbols. An address. But unlike any they had dialled before, except to the Asgard home planet, where an extra symbol had added something special to the equation. "I had them run a comparison through the computer, there are five possible matches for this partial symbol."

Daniel raised his eyebrows in expectation, thinking that everyone around the table had followed his own intuitive leap. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he waited.

"And?"

Annoyed that no one seemed to follow his logic, Daniel turned to the symbols once more. "Look, I recognise all the symbols except," he hit the screen with his finger, "this one. Am I right Sam?"

She nodded. "Yes, the others all tie in with our Stargate but that one."

"But," Daniel changed slides once more, "it does appear on this gate. On P4S 111 where the box was found."

Everyone sat a little straighter now, the implications becoming clearer.

"A point of origin? One not on any Stargate we have ever been through."

Daniel's voice was dry. "Now do you want to go treasure hunting, Jack?"

***

Chapter two

It was two days later before General Hammond gave them the all clear to perform a further search of P4S 111, Freshman having had only an hour to search on the initial survey. This time Daniel, with Jack, would go back and perform a more thorough excavation, using specialised high tech equipment that had arrived at the mountain that morning. Sam and Teal’c were concentrating their efforts on the possible combinations and destinations for the new Stargate address.

A pleasant flutter of excitement roiled in Daniel’s midriff. The Ancients seemed finally within sight. The Asgard and the Nox were now known to them, the Furlings were yet to be found but here was their chance to meet the builders of the Stargate system. The race that had possibly created the wonderful libraries and elegant language of Rhodes. Impatient to be on his way, Daniel was up the ramp and at the event horizon long before Jack had their MALP on the move.

"Will you slow down, for crying out loud!" Jack boomed at him from the bottom of the ramp. Then he joined him, walking backwards as the MALP followed at its own sedate pace. Daniel was through the ‘gate and travelling as Jack made it to the top of the ramp. Still pacing backwards, his foot caught at the edge of the platform and he tumbled unceremoniously through the rippling blue pool.

Daniel walked out of the event horizon and straight into a tropical storm of mighty proportions. Gasping for breath as the water attacked every part of him, he turned his back to the barrage and was just able to dodge Jack’s ungraceful exit; the colonel landing hard on the rocky base that held the Stargate.

"Oh this is just dandy," Jack yelled over the high winds. "I thought this was a tropical paradise."

Jack’s voice made little impression on Daniel at that moment, he was more aware of the soggy weight of his fatigues clinging uncomfortably to every millimetre of his body. The bandanna he had tied around his head that morning now oozed warm water across his face and down his back, and pools of water were congregating in his boots. A second later the event horizon blinked out of existence before the equipment laden MALP had made it through. That did draw his attention, and Jack’s too. Their shared looked spoke of confusion and a touch of anxiety. This was not supposed to happen.

"Dial her up. Let’s get off this god-forsaken piece of dirt and wait for a nice sunny day! The Ancients aren’t going anywhere, at least not in this weather." He spluttered, as the rain suddenly switched direction and blew directly into his face. "Now, Daniel!"

Nothing loath, Daniel dialled in Earth’s address, watching the wheel spin, catching sight of the new symbol as it flashed past. He got as far as the fourth symbol when the Stargate died. Power drained from it between one heartbeat and the next. Starting again, Daniel pressed symbol after symbol with no result, not even the tiniest blip or movement.

"What is it?" Jack yelled over the raging winds.

"Won’t dial. No power," Daniel called back through the slew of water that had filled his mouth the moment he opened it. Oh he really wanted to get out of this weather. Soft drizzle he didn’t mind - hurricanes he could live without. Not for the first time he longed for the hot winds and gentle rains of Abydos; conveniently forgetting the incredible sand storms that plagued the planet.

"We need shelter," Jack yelled, his keen gaze scanning the area from under the peak of his cap. Trees were sparse in every direction, and at that moment, bending to the power of the storm. Not a safe option.

Skirting the platform, they noted the sheer drop on the other side, maybe ten feet down to sandy earth, turned to muddy pools by the torrential rain. It was their best option. Throwing down his weapon, Jack dropped to the floor, moving quickly to one side allowing Daniel to drop down beside him. Instantly, the raging winds abated, allowing the two to converse at a more reasonable level.

Daniel's thoughts were racing. What the hell had caused the gate to close down? And was the MALP now tiny atomic particles floating in hyperspace? Or did it still rest on the ramp at the SGC? He could imagine the concern if the latter were true. Jack was right in that there was nothing they could do for the moment except wait out the storm and hope for the best.

In his pocket resided the gold tube and an enhanced laminated copy of the map. Over the last two days he had worked diligently at trying to transcribe the writings, so far with little success. Only one word had arisen from his enthusiasm - new - at least he thought it was new. But new what? Without the context he was stranded, much as they were right now. With nothing better to do, and no sign of abatement in the weather, he pulled out the rod and emptied the map into his hands.

Jack had disappeared around the edge of the mound, gun in hand, some five minutes before. Daniel didn't see him returning any time soon and when he did he wouldn’t be in a pleasant mood. He had read the mission report, birds and guano, just the thing to aggravate an already pissed off colonel.

Even with the rain beating on the page the pale images still seemed to leap out at him. Sets of four 'letters' grouped together, top and bottom and to either side. At the very edge, the partial Stargate address. It was frustrating. He tried to recall Jack's translation of the circle at the repository. The times he had cursed himself for not taping that momentous occasion. Though at the time he had made copious notes of both that translation and the inscription on P3R 272, there were too many different symbols on this map for him to make heads or tails of. Frustrated, but determined, he grabbed a marker pen from his kit and began various combinations of the letters.

Jack returned, sunk down on his heels at Daniel's feet and cursed roundly. "Nothing but bird shit and trees in every direction. What the hell were the Ancients doing putting a Stargate on this…" he waved his hand about him.

Daniel looked up from his doodling and gazed out to where the sea was being driven ashore in massive waves. "This probably wasn't a tiny island when it was erected. SG19 said you could see small islands off in the distance. At a guess the sea has been encroaching for millennia. After all, we don't know how old the gates are." Daniel warmed to his theme. "You realise that this could be one of the oldest gates in existence? It's certainly the furthest out of the ones you put in the computer. I don't mean that the Ancients lived here but…."

"Daniel!" Jack interrupted, and was talked over. "Daniel!" he yelled.

"What?"

"I don't care. All right? I just want to get off this, this…"

"Eyot?" Daniel chipped in helpfully, getting Jack's full glare for his pains.

"I - don't - care. Okay?"

"You did ask." Daniel shrugged and turned his attention back to the puzzle and immediately forgot about the weather, about Jack's foul mood, and the fact that his boots were sinking slowly into the rain swamped mess that had pooled around the two men.

It was Jack who spotted the wind-torn sails coming toward the island. The ship, being forced toward certain grounding, bucked and yawed as though physically battling the elements. There was nothing they could do but watch as the prow lifted one last time, the sea pulling out from under its keel, leaving the ship high on the beach, and leaning at a precarious angle.

Jack was picking up his P90 to go to their aid when Daniel's hand on his arm stopped him. He turned, surprise on his face. Daniel was usually the first one into the fray at times like this - as he knew to his cost.

"Hang on. Did you see the flag they were flying? We may want to try and find that elusive shelter you were looking for." Daniel was more than a little concerned.

The colonel turned his gaze back to where he could see men scrambling over the side of the wreck. Some obviously injured. The flag at that moment was blowing straight at them so that he couldn't see the emblem on its face.

"Skull and crossbones, Jack. Pirates. We really don't want to get caught by them. They outnumber us easily twenty to one. And we only have your gun and my side arm. If they rush us, we're done for." Seeing Jack's obvious amazement that he took the threat so seriously, he continued. "Trading in slaves was possibly their worst crime, but most pirates, in the seventeen hundreds at least, sank their enemies and if you didn't join up, you died. So, let's make a strategic retreat - at least until we know who they are."

"You going military on me? That's just too much for me to take." But Jack turned and, with Daniel close behind, they made their way toward the other side of the island. There was no shelter, nowhere to hide, but perhaps it would serve long enough until the pirates got their ship seaworthy and on its way.

Unfortunately, some days everything that can go wrong does. And this was one of those days.

***

Bending low against the driving rain, Daniel and the colonel exited the tree line and staggered to a halt. Bearing down on the beach, a second ship, battling the elements, was being driven to destruction. Just one mast and sail remained, though it was rent from top to bottom. As they watched, the vessel seemed to hit an obstacle in its path, rocks perhaps. Even over the storm's noise they heard the ripping crunch of splintering wood. The ship heeled over, throwing men over the side into the wildly tossing waves.

"Crap," Jack cursed loudly, his eyes rapidly searching the immediate area. "Back into the trees. Let's take stock of the situation."

"I'd say it's pretty bad." Daniel's voice was the driest thing on the island.

They headed for a small clump of trees mid way between the two beaches and took position behind one solid seeming trunk.

"What do you think, this other lot are pirates too? What I would give for a few grenades right now!"

"I can't see why two pirate ships would be converging on the same island," Daniel answered, puzzled. "Especially as there are other places to make landfall nearby." His brows creased in concentration as he thought through what he had read of the marauders. He had looked at records from the seventeenth and eighteenth century, more as light reading matter rather than with any purpose in mind. He supposed he had been as fascinated by the concept of pirates, swashbuckling their way across the seven seas, as much as anyone else. The truth about them was not so romantic. Greed did appalling things to men's morals, and although the term 'pirate' had become synonymous with the likes of Errol Flynn, the reality was far different. True pirates were, with a couple of exceptions, hard men who thought nothing of taking the lives of their victims. If they were caught between two rivals, then they were in dire trouble indeed.

From his top pocket, Jack extracted a small spyglass and trained it on the men who were making their way to shore, being summarily tossed onto the beach by wave after wave like so much driftwood.

"Here, take a look." He handed the glass to Daniel who observed closely the looks and clothing.

"The dress is right for the seventeen hundreds, and they look human, but I don't recall any legends about boats disappearing then. And I don't see…"

The wind had dropped now and the rain had eased down from hurricane to mildly heavy. Without that distraction both men heard the unique grind of the Stargate beginning to turn. Keeping low, Daniel followed Jack's rapid form as they headed the short distance back to the plateau where the Stargate stood. Crouching behind the tree line, they watched as the power died once more. On the wind, Daniel could hear the curses and imprecations quite clearly. English, with little or no inflection. Curiouser and curiouser.

"What now?" Daniel whispered.

"You reckon these two are going to be friendly to one another?"

"Doubt it," he responded. "Though I guess they both knew about the gate, or why else risk shipwreck to land here? And, for that matter, where were they dialling too?"

"Then I think we are going to have to pick sides. Damn. They're about evenly matched."

Daniel scanned the group huddled around the DHD. Stocky men; wild haired, hard eyed. He didn't like their choices.

Some inborn instinct made the hairs on Daniel's neck stand up on end. Turning quickly, he found himself looking up into the business end of a heavy pistol, the like of which hadn't been seen outside of a museum for the last three hundred years. He heard Jack's grunt of pain as a heavy fist took him full in the face as he raised his gun to fire at their assailants. With a vicious downward movement, the pirate reversed his pistol and brought it into sharp contact with Daniel's head.

***

It was the sound of hushed voices that brought Daniel back from the warm embrace of unconsciousness. He lay still, not wanting to draw their attention to him; plus he really didn’t want to aggravate the pain that pulsed insistently over his left eye. He could just remember the sound of metal against bone, the sudden double vision and then nothing.

"What do we do now, Captain? Jake's already at the circle and he outnumbers us. Not that he's going anywhere by the looks of it." The rough voice dropped into an unpleasant chuckle.

"We wait, we watch - and when the time comes, we'll have Jake, his ship, and the treasure. After all, we have something he does not!"

The other man, the Captain, Daniel presumed, had the softest burr to his voice, French he thought. And cultured, which was a surprise. There had been a few privateers turned pirate back in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Men who found that handing over their booty to the crown less to their liking than sharing it with the crew and living off their own ill-gotten gains. Perhaps this man was one of them. It made their position maybe a little less dangerous, but not by much.

"Aye, but what about these two?"

Daniel's flesh crawled as he imagined their gaze now fixed on himself and Jack. He knew that the colonel was still alive only because he could feel the weight of Jack's body pressed against his, could hear the rasp of his breathing close to his ear. Hands and feet tied together, the two men had been dragged further back into cover, and piled together like sacks of rubbish.

We'll deal with them too, never fear."

"You think they are Black Pete's men? He," Daniel felt the prod of a hard boot in his ribs, but let his body roll with the blow. "He had the key on him. Pete wouldn't tell anyone where he'd hidden it, not unless he trusted them real well."

"Keep your voice down, Boyes. Only you and I know the true value of that key."

The rough voice lowered its tone a notch. "Ah, but only Pete knows how to use it. Unless these two…" There was the sound of something scraping, as though a knife had been drawn from its sheath.

"Stow it. For now at least. If Pete's around then the sooner we get off this island and away the better. Now we have the key we can take our time, come back when we are sure of no interruptions. We'll deal with Jake, then get ourselves back to harbour. Keep a sharp look out for the black sails, Boyes."

Daniel felt Jack move beside him; there was no way to warn him with the pirate's eyes on them both. He opened his eyes a fraction, trying to see the faces of the two men whose conversation he had overheard.

Scuffed black leather met his gaze. The shoes seemed overly elaborate to his twentieth century gaze, and yet the tarnished silver buckles and soaked ribbons did not seem out of place. His eyes lifted, taking in the practical hose, the sodden knee length breeches, and upward to the waistcoat visible under a dark brown coat. All had seen better days, and yet the original quality still showed in the material. The face that topped the outfit was not quality. The homely features were harsh from a life at sea. Burned brown by the sun, lined and sunken, it was difficult to gauge the man's age.

"Ah, awake are yer? Good. Now me hearty, let's you and I have a little chat."

"Boyes!" The ruffian turned his head and scowled at the man standing over them both.

The captain was tall and wiry. His face was lean, almost cadaverous, as though from some long illness, and yet there was nothing weak about the dangerous dark eyes or the hard set of his mouth. His clothes were slightly better than his crewman's but only by the addition of a fairly rakish hat that currently kept the light drizzle from his features.

Further speech was interrupted by the arrival of a crewman who whispered agitatedly into his captain's ear. Daniel watched the hard eyes narrow and cast across the clearing to where the other crew were still surrounding the Stargate. From his prone position Daniel could not see what was happening, but his hearing assured him that someone, possibly several someones, were heading in their direction.

"Muster the men. Sharp now."

"What about these two?" Boyes gravelly voice queried softly.

"Leave them. They are not going anywhere. Not yet. They can await my pleasure. First we deal with Jake."

All around him Daniel could hear the sound of footfalls, heavy, purposeful, as the captain's men headed toward conflict. At that moment he had no idea who he wanted to win. It probably didn't matter anyway, the pirate's code would see both he and Jack come to a less than pleasurable end if they couldn't escape back through the ‘gate.

Wriggling around in the muddy earth, he twisted his body until he faced Jack lying face down beside him. Jack's eyes were closed, his mouth hanging slack as he breathed slowly and with apparent effort. What the hell had happened? Daniel remembered Jack going down from a fist to his chin but that would hardly cause this extended unconsciousness.

"Jack? … Jack, wake up. Jack?" His voice low and urgent.

Not even the barest flicker indicated that his friend had heard him. This just got better and better, he thought to himself. Now that he no longer had a guard standing over him, he tested the strength of the bonds that tied him. Rope, heavy with water, gave slightly under his struggling ministrations. Casting his eyes upward he tried to see where his captors had gone. From the distance he could hear the sounds of men screaming in anger as the two pirate crews took sight of one another. The sudden blast of a pistol shattered the air, followed by the clash of steel against steel. All spurred him to further effort.

One hand slipped free of its bindings, pain lancing through his wrist as rope burned hard against flesh. Daniel eyed the bleeding mess with disfavour before tackling the knots around his ankles, all the while terribly conscious of the sounds of battle close by. A pain filled scream rent the air and Daniel redoubled his efforts. Seconds dragged by, each ticking past with a slowness that set his heart pounding. Finally the ropes slipped from him and he turned his attention to Jack.

If he thought his ropes had been tight they were nothing compared to the colonel's bindings. Those wrapped around his wrists had cut off circulation, leaving his hands almost bloodless, the nails white. And still there was no sign of a return to consciousness. Daniel shook the recumbent man's shoulder to no effect. He really needed Jack up and mobile if they stood even the remotest chance of surviving this. If the Stargate were out of action they would have to rely on Sam and the SGC to fix it, and that meant staying alive, and on this island, until rescue arrived.

Daniel was bending over Jack's tied feet when he heard the footsteps pounding up behind him. No chance to run - nowhere to hide. He stood quickly, ignoring the sudden rush of blood to his head and the weakness in his ankles where ropes had cut deeply through the thin material of his trousers, cutting off the blood supply. He found himself face to face with a ruffian he had not seen before. Shorter than Daniel, maybe five eight or nine, the man's eyes were hungry with an anger that seemed to emanate from him. Built like a wrestler, the man still moved with a grace and agility that put Daniel immediately on the defensive. Jack had insisted he do some combat training, hand to hand stuff, and Daniel had done it, albeit unwillingly. How he would fare against this pirate and the knife he wielded would have to be seen. For that moment nothing existed for him except the dark blue eyes of his attacker, the swish of the blade through the soft rain, and the unpleasant grin that had spread across the grimy face.

"You have it don't ya, eh? Well not for much longer. "

Daniel stepped back quickly from the sudden lunge, the blade scraping across his out flung hand, leaving a bloody weal across the flesh.

The pirate chuckled. "That's right my pretty, dance for me then. Won't stop me getting the key from you though."

Daniel took another step back, barely missing Jack's head. That momentary lapse of concentration nearly cost him his life. He stumbled, the pirate lunged once more and Daniel felt the man's breath on his face as he closed for the kill. And then a shot rang out. The dark blue eyes opened wide in shock, swiftly followed by pain. Blood gurgled out of the open mouth as the ruffian fell forward and straight into Daniel's arms bringing them both to the ground.

It was all Daniel could do not to gag as the pirate’s dead weight seemed to suffocate him. Pushing with all his strength, he heaved the body from him only to find himself looking up into the captain's cold eyes. There was fresh blood on the cuffs of the once smart coat, dark stains on the blade that dangled from the left hand, smoke issuing from the pistol held loosely in the right. The man was straight from some piratical nightmare. Nothing glamorous about this image of controlled savagery. Daniel mentally vowed he would never watch a pirate movie again.

The thin mouth moved as the captain strung together a series of colourful epithets. Daniel had been right, the man was French. The accent thick and archaic.

In perfect French, Daniel spoke to his captor. "Monsieur, my friend and I are travellers, shipwrecked on this island as you were. We ask for your help."

Dark brows came together in a frown as the captain eyed Daniel. With one fluid movement the sword was resheathed, and then the pistol tucked securely into the thick leather belt.

"You are French?" the captain queried. "But I think not. Your accent is… strange. Who are you? And remember, I know what you carried." One hand tapped his coat pocket significantly.

Daniel's mind raced. They knew nothing of this culture, knew nothing of the map's origin or significance to these pirates. One wrong word now could be disastrous. He licked his suddenly dry lips.

"We were shipwrecked as I said. The gold rod was by the circle. I picked it up, just to look at it. We saw a ship coming in to shore; we knew the flag and ran…"

"You lie so poorly," the captain said. "Pete would never leave this just lying around when any one of us could find it. He knows its secrets. He knows its worth. Do you?"

Daniel kept his lips firmly closed. He needed to find out just what this pirate captain knew about the map. That he knew more than the SGC seemed a given.

Moments later the rest of the crew arrived, surrounding their captain and the two captives. Dark, weather beaten faces, with eyes that seemed to strip Daniel down to his bones. He’d been in tight situations before, some times with virtually no hope of survival, but he didn’t think he’d ever faced such enmity as these men exuded.

"The ship?" the French captain called over his shoulder, his eyes not wavering from Daniel’s.

"Seaworthy. The sea is calming; we can get her back out to sea with little effort once the tide comes back in. It’s already on the turn." It was Boyes harsh tones that answered.

"The crew?"

There was a murmuring among the men, an uneasy anger that Daniel could feel in the air.

"We lost two, Dangers and Smith; three more with wounds likely to take them. Other than that, just a few scrapes."

"And Jake’s men?"

"Six dead, five not likely to make it. The rest are fit enough. Jake lives, along with that blackamoor of a first mate."

For the first time Daniel saw the captain’s eyes betray some emotion, fleeting yet predatory in its sudden hunger.

"Bring them," he indicated. Rough hands grabbed his arms, taking little heed of the damaged wrist or the stumbling gait. Four swarthy individuals grabbed Jack by the arms and legs, and dragged him along behind them, cursing his dead weight pulling at their arms.

Daniel knew that any protest on his part would only make things worse, so he watched with an apparent calm as the colonel was summarily bumped and jostled over the uneven ground.

***

Chapter three

The rain had stopped, leaving the air heavy with moisture that clung to the lungs and made breathing difficult. Above them a tiny break in the clouds let through a few shafts of brilliant sunshine that held promise of the heat to follow.

Two men knelt before the Stargate, hands bound behind them. One, a huge moor who would put Teal’c to shame in the muscles department. He had fared badly at the pirate’s hands; raw cuts sliced across his upper arms, a gash, oozing a slow trickle of blood, ran from his left shoulder down toward his right hip. Even though his eyes were almost closed from the bruising, they glittered with a deadly ire. Daniel sympathised with him, knowing his own eye probably sported a similar colouring; his vision in that eye blurred where lids almost met, an unending ache centred around his temple.

From his pocket, the French captain removed the gold rod, turning it with slender fingers as he watched Jake's eyes follow every movement. Daniel saw the greed that gold produced reflected in every eye around him. These men would do anything for the benefits that shiny metal would produce.

As though forced unwillingly from him, Jake spoke. "How did you find it, Mission?"

Daniel saw Mission's lips twitch into a smile, one that did not reach his eyes, and felt a shiver run through him. In his head he was trawling back through all that he could remember from his research. The only 'Mission' he could recall was a Frenchman who had been known for his humanity to his prisoners, and for his freeing of slave ships. That didn't seem to tally with the cold-eyed man who paced slowly in front of his captives.

His silent observation drew another question. "The box?" Jake asked hoarsely.

It was all Daniel could do to hold back his own questions. What significance did the box hold? Were the map and the box used in conjunction with one another? How the hell had he missed that implication? The notebook in his top pocket held his initial sketches of the box; that was if it still resided there. He dare not reach for it yet; not whilst he was surrounded by watchful eyes.

And then he noticed Mission's suddenly intent gaze. The man had not known the box was important! Maybe he had not know about it at all, his whole attention focused on the slim piece of gold held now between suddenly stilled fingers.

Casting his gaze quickly around the crew, Daniel noted that Boyes now held both Jack's weapon and his own, though it seemed he had no idea what could be done with either or there would have been a massacre on the beach rather than hand to hand combat. The man's eyes were wary and totally focussed on the conflict between the two captains.

"Pete took this from you Jake, you know what it does, what treasure it protects. You will tell me… won't you?"

Mission's question hung in the air between the two captains. Though his voice had been pleasantly light, the underlying threat was evident in every line of his body.

Jake's spittle landed inches away from his captor's foot. Boyes, stepping close, used Daniel's side arm to smash into the man's face, leaving his nose bleeding profusely.

"Enough. Jake just needs a little persuasion. I'm sure he'll come to his senses soon enough." As Mission turned his back, the moor surged to his feet and barrelled into him, sending them both crashing to the floor. Hands that had seemed securely tied just moments before now ripped free and latched around the Frenchman's throat.

The gold rod went flying, landing inches from Daniel's foot. With a yell every crewman leapt into the fray, fists flew, knives were unsheathed, and Daniel found himself standing alone. For the barest instant he held still, then dove for the rod, hiding it within his jacket before returning to his place at Jack's side. With one foot he nudged his fallen commander - still no response. His original concern escalated but before he could bend down to reassess Jack's condition Boyes was at his side, knife in hand.

The blade found the soft spot under Daniel's chin, forcing his head up. "Going somewhere?"

"My friend needs medical help. I just wanted to see…" The blade dug deeper and Daniel could feel the warm trickle of blood as it dripped against his neck.

"What matter if he dies? He is of no importance to the captain. We have the key, we have you."

Daniel had to gamble that this man's greed and knowledge of the map would outweigh his casual attitude to Jack's demise.

"But you don't have the box. He knows where it is; he can decipher it for you."

Boyes eyes became wary. He did not have his captain's instincts but he sensed that Daniel's words were not all they seemed. "If he knows then you know. If he can read it then so can you!"

Daniel shook his head, sending another trickle of blood trailing down his throat.

"The Ancients trusted him with their knowledge, they…"

"Quiet!" Boyes growled.

He knew he had hit home then as Boyes' eyes narrowed at the Ancients’ name. For the briefest moment fear had reflected in the pirate's eyes. If these men feared the Ancients… It left him frustrated and wary, a condition he had become accustomed to over these last few years with SG1.

The melee finished as quickly as it had started. Captain Mission stood nursing his throat, where even now the livid marks of the moor's fingers glowed against his pale skin. At his feet, the massive bulk of the now dead assassin, his body oozing blood from numerous wounds. He wasn't the only casualty, another five lay dead, more nursed injuries. Daniel still couldn't decipher who belonged to which crew; they wore no insignia, nothing to mark them in any way.

"Black sails!"

The sudden stillness at those words hit Daniel like a physical blow. There was panic in the air, not the anticipatory fear of a forthcoming battle, but true soul-tearing terror.

Mission came to his senses first, barking out his orders in a hoarse whisper. "The ship, get it ready. Boyes, how far away is he?"

"He's trying to come in against the wind, we have maybe twenty minutes, maybe less. Good job Jake's ship is fast."

"You can’t leave me here…. Mission!" Jake’s voice followed them to the sands, his voice laden with terror.

Fear was driving the pirates ahead; no one had the time or the inclination to listen or to act for the pirate captain. Daniel saw the French captain turn briefly to where Jake still struggled with his bonds; there was no clemency in his gaze. A moment later he turned his attention to the activity below him.

Men were running back down the beach to the stranded vessel, which even now was beginning to ride up on each incoming wave. Daniel couldn't see how they intended to get it back out to sea. But he didn't count on the powerful effect fear had on a system. Every pirate joined together in their struggle to get the ship afloat. Jake's men and Mission's working side by side. What hold did this Black Pete have?

"Come along," Boyes voice rasped in Daniel's ear as he was dragged along at a rapid pace toward the ship. Too busy watching his footing to turn and see what they had done with Jack, though from the cursing coming from behind him he hoped they were bringing him along too. In all the mad panic it seemed the gold rod had been temporarily forgotten - he would do nothing to remind them.

***

Chapter four

Daniel had never been a good sailor, even avoiding the little boats on the pond near his first foster home. Now it was all he could do to stop the heaving of his stomach. The tossing of the ship, in addition to the rank smell in the hold where he and Jack had been stowed, causing havoc with his senses.

Now that the initial danger was past Daniel had time to take stock of his surroundings. The hold was cramped with boxes and barrels and the stench of unwashed bodies. Probably used as a slaver at some stage; the rank smell of sweat and fear still lingered, all pervading. It hadn't taken him long to get his bonds undone again. In their anxiety to be out of Pete's purview no one had checked to see what might be in the hold. One of the crates had rusty nails protruding from its side, harsh enough to wear through the ropes with much patient rubbing. From there he had unbound Jack, laying him out a little more comfortably, though still unable to rouse him. Checking Jack's pulse, he found a strong steady beat. Colour had returned to the colonel's face and his breathing seemed a little easier. Daniel could only wait and hope.

Mouth dry, he was getting desperate for a drink, but there was nothing in the hold, and he guessed the pirates didn’t give a damn about his thirst. Their water packs had been on the MALP, along with those wonderfully unappetising Air Force rations. He licked gently at his chapped lips, sighed, and tried to ease his mind away from the planks heaving under his feet and the roiling in his stomach.

Little light entered the hold, just the odd glimpse of sunlight where hasty repairs had not quite covered holes in the wooden sides. Even in this predicament he had to wonder what had caused them. Cannon fire maybe? That had been the weapon of choice among the pirates of Earth. He had been hurried below before he could get so much as a glimpse of the weaponry aboard this ship, but he ventured that they would be heavily armed.

Moving to where a small glimmer slanted into the gloom, Daniel reached for his top pocket, relief flooding through him as his fingers touched the notebook. Tipping open the rod, he emptied out the map, then sought a hiding place for the gold piece. It could be that the pirates did not know what the rod contained, or even if it opened. It had seemed to Daniel that neither Jake nor Mission really knew what this was, only that it was the key to some great treasure - and he doubted that they really knew what the treasure was. In his own mind there had been the dawning of an idea that, if he were right, would lead them straight to the Ancients. The thought fascinated him; he felt the thrill of prescient discovery tingle through him. Plus it took his mind off the heaving of the ship under his feet.

A groan from the darkness cut his musing short. Jack, eyes open, was trying to drag himself into a sitting position.

"Hold on." Daniel grabbed Jack's arm, and helped him to lean back against the nearest crate.

"Oh God that hurts. Where…?"

"You've been unconscious nearly two hours. What happened?"

It appeared the colonel wasn't firing on all cylinders just yet. His eyes roved around the hold in a vague way, then closed again.

Daniel slapped him sharply across the face. "Wake up, Jack. Come on, stay with me." Now that he had the colonel conscious he had no intention of letting him lapse back into his semi comatose-like state.

"Do that again and you’re a dead man." The colonel's voice was raspy and weaker than normal, but it gladdened Daniel's heart. He had been getting seriously worried.

Daniel grinned. "Oh yeah?" Wincing as his black eye protested at the crinkling of his face.

With an effort Jack opened his eyes once more, his vision seeming clearer, his mind now turning over almost at its normal pace.

"Cosy accommodations. Could do with a bit of paint - and some air freshener though."

"Pirate's special rates, just for land lubbers."

"Ah. Wondered about the…"

The ship suddenly heaved to port, sending both men sprawling.

The colonel grimaced, catching Daniel's eye. "I take it we're at sea?"

Daniel nodded. "Want the good news?"

"Do I get a choice?"

"While you were out I recovered the map. I also found out that the box holds a clue to deciphering it." He opened up his notebook and waved the sketches at Jack.

"Great, but let's get off this ship and back to the island, huh!"

"That could be tricky."

The ship heaved again, and this time both men heard the thud and resultant whoosh of something heavy hitting the water very close to where they were.

"That didn't sound good," Daniel murmured slowly.

"What the hell was that?"

"Cannon most likely. If we take a hit below the water line we are in serious trouble."

Rolling up the map he tucked it back in his jacket, adding the notebook as well. Daniel moved to the steep ladder that led up to the next level. With another deck above that, it was almost impossible to hear what was happening above them. Then the sudden muted roar of their own cannons firing; the ship rolling over slightly as it recoiled. Daniel's stomach roiled in answer and he clenched his teeth against the sudden rush of bile.

Jack struggled to his feet, weaving like a drunk. "Time to go. We'll be better off on the deck."

Daniel headed up the steep wooden ladder, closely followed by the colonel. A sudden grunt of pain made him turn. Jack had one hand pressed tightly to his side, his face had paled dramatically and his eyes were pressed tightly closed.

"Jack?"

A dismissive hand waved in his direction. "It's nothing, get going. The sooner we are on deck the better. I'd rather give us a fighting chance of coming out of this alive. Besides you probably look worse than I feel."

Daniel hesitated, not too sure about the logic of Jack's reply.

"Now!"

Instead he began to climb back down the ladder. He needed to assess Jack's injuries before they moved any further.

"Daniel!" Jack hesitated for a fraction; he knew how stubborn the younger man could be. "Okay, look, I think they cracked a couple of ribs, that's all. It's nothing life threatening."

Another loud whoosh landed closer still to the heaving ship.

"Unlike that. Move."

Daniel resumed his climb. Years of working beside the colonel meant he knew how little the man appreciated anyone's concern. No, that wasn't true, he admonished; he did, he was just damned if he'd let anyone know. And Daniel could respect that. There had been more times than he cared to remember when just the presence of this man, or Sam, or Teal'c had made the difference as to whether he could make himself carry on. They had been there for him time after time. So he climbed resolutely, putting his shoulder to the trapdoor and studiously ignored the grunts and muttered imprecations that emanated from below him.

It took only a few well-placed shoulder rams before the half-rotten wood splintered. Light from a hatchway illuminated the hallway they had come up into. The sounds of running feet pounded above them. The rumble of the cannons as they ran back and forth across the decking sounded like faint thunder echoing all around them. The noise reverberated in his head, adding to the gentle pounding over his black eye.

A heavy thud sounded above and then a huge hole appeared almost directly overhead. Dark grey metal fell past their faces as the cannon ball tore through the decking at their feet. Daniel pushed Jack back, trying to avoid the gaping wound in the deck.

"That was a little too close for comfort!"

The next ball tore through the ship's hull below them. Daniel heard it rip through the wood, felt the ship lurch. And then another, this time closer to their position.

As he and Jack raced for the companionway up to the main deck his heart was pounding to bursting point. He had faced Jaffa, Goa'uld and the NID, but the thought of being caught below decks on a sinking ship got his adrenaline rushing like nothing before.

It seemed as though chaos held reign on the wooden deck. From the poop, Mission was co-ordinating his attack against the massive black-sailed ship that was bearing inexorably down upon them. Even with one eye virtually closed and his depth perception shot to hell, there was no way Daniel could miss the fact that with each passing moment the huge black ship was cutting the distance between them. Their own little vessel was tacking this way and that, doing it's best to avoid the barrage of fire coming their way. And with each pass the ships were getting closer and closer. Before long cannon fire would not be an option, grappling hooks would be flung from one ship to the other and then it would be hand to hand combat. Daniel sized up the other ship, much bigger than the one dancing beneath his feet - and with a compliment of pirate crew to match he assumed. Every inch of it had been painted solid black. From the water line up to the topmost sail and even the flag flying there, not a hint of any other colour was to be seen. From this distance he could just make out the forms of Pete’s crew as they manned the heavy cannon. The one thing in their favour seemed to be that 'Black Pete' appeared intent on boarding and not sinking them. Cannon shot flew overhead, tearing into the sails, sending men scurrying for cover even as they manned the pitifully few guns aimed at Pete’s ship. The air was redolent of gunpowder and the crew’s fear. From their vantage point under cover of the housing, Daniel and the colonel watched in fascinated horror. There was nothing they could do.

He wants his property back, Daniel thought, his gut clenching at the methods that might be used. They were stuck on this ship, in the middle of an ocean they did not know, miles from the Stargate. Even if the SGC knew they were in trouble and had found a way to open the ‘gate, where could they begin to look? This day just got better and better.

"Crap!"

Jack’s softly issued curse summed up Daniel’s feelings at that moment. He turned to where the colonel was watching the action all around them.

"We need to get off this damn ship, somehow."

"There’s no way off, Jack. And even if there were, we have no idea which direction to head." Daniel’s eyes scanned the seas around them; nothing but waves as far as the eye could see in every direction.

Daniel could almost feel the frustration that consumed the colonel. He was military, black ops trained, and here he was in a situation that nothing he could do would turn it to his advantage. Without their weapons… He stopped short on that thought.

"Jack, our guns? Where do you think they stashed them?"

The sudden glint in O’Neill’s eyes told Daniel that he had given Jack some hope. It felt good, and strange too; usually it was Jack that had to steer Daniel through a crisis of confidence.

"Not below decks." The crisp military tone was back. "Either one of these guys has them with him, or they’ll be tossed to one side. They obviously don’t know what they are – yet. And I think they are a little too busy to be playing with them right now."

The ship lurched again as the helm was turned savagely hard to starboard in an effort to avoid the latest barrage of fire. From above them came the crack of wood being torn asunder as a cannon ball tore through the rigging. Jack’s hands slammed into Daniel’s back as he pushed him back under cover. A moment later timber crashed to the deck, a tangle of rigging and sail that missed them by a few inches. Others were not so lucky, one of Mission’s pirates had missed his footing as the mast fell and now lay trapped under its weight. There was nothing to be done for him; glazed eyes dimmed as his life ebbed away.

From the upper deck Captain Mission’s voice rang out. "Prepare for boarders!"

Cannons were abandoned; swords and knives were drawn, as men lined the rails. Stripped to just their breeches to allow for ease of movement, feet bare for better purchase on the heaving deck, Daniel didn’t think he’d seen a more savage collection of individuals in his life. Faces grimy from the cannon blasts highlighted eyes that glittered with fear and blood lust.

Pete’s ship loomed over the decks, its high sides sliding up against the battered hull of Mission’s craft. Every able-bodied pirate was now waiting for the first grappling hook and line to sail across the gap. Making the most of this opportunity, Daniel and Jack stole across the deck, eyes everywhere, searching for their weapons. Jack’s hand on his arm stopped Daniel in his tracks. With a nod of his head, the colonel indicated to a spot close to Mission’s place on the upper deck. Almost at the pirate’s feet was the P90 and Daniel’s side arm. Although Mission’s attention was firmly engaged on the conflict about to happen, Daniel didn’t think they’d get close enough to grab the guns without some resistance. That didn’t seem to worry Jack though. The colonel crept forward to where the deck stood just above his head, the guns were some three feet away. Quietly he crept along to where a short ladder led up to the deck; keeping low he poked his head above the top of the ladder and then slid himself up and over. Lying prone, the colonel inched his way across the deck, not making a sound. Daniel could see the sweat standing out on his forehead, the tight line of his mouth as he fought down the pain of his broken ribs aggravated by this manoeuvre. His hand was just a foot away from the P90 when, as though by some inner warning system, Mission turned and spotted O’Neill.

Daniel raced up the ladder as he saw the Frenchman’s arm come up, sword glinting in the sunlight. Jack, seeing the danger, rolled to one side, his hand reaching for a weapon. Mission’s foot lashed out, sending both pieces tumbling to the lower deck even as Daniel barrelled into him. From below a mighty cry rose as the first of Black Pete’s men swung across from the great black ship.

Daniel heard a muttered oath from behind him as he went sprawling against the rail, Mission’s sword arm trapped between them. Adrenaline pumped wildly through his system as the Frenchman’s eyes met his. The world seemed to stop for an instant as they took each other’s measure, then a scream of pain from the decks below broke the spell between them. Daniel saw the pirate’s eyes widen, then the head turned to where men battled hand to hand below them. When his eyes returned to Daniel’s he was shocked to see something close to despair in their depths.

"If you value your life, you will let me go. If you value your life and that of your friend, you will fight beside me," the man rasped out in guttural French. The panic of the moment throwing him back to his native tongue. "You will fight as you have never done before, or we are all surely dead."

It took but a moment for Daniel to decide; there had been something terrible and true in the man’s voice. He released his captive and took a quick step back, then another, trying to remove himself from within the range of the deadly blade still held in Mission’s hand. The pirate’s reply was a harsh laugh that held no hint of amusement. And then he had flung himself down the steps to join his men, sword slashing from side to side, cutting a swathe through the heaving mass of human flesh that seethed back and forth in deadly combat.

Turning his attention to Jack, Daniel stumbled to a halt. The colonel lay on his back, face perfectly white, hand clutched tightly to his side, his breath ragged. Daniel was almost positive he could hear a bubbling noise with each exhalation. He was on his knees in a moment, hands reaching helplessly to Jack. There was nothing he could do here, nothing that his field training had prepared him for. If he were right, then one of those broken ribs had now pierced a lung, collapsing it. He dare not move him for fear of aggravating the problem, but how the hell could he leave him here untended? My God, they had only been on this planet for less than a day and Jack was facing his second medical crisis.

For once he would have welcomed the staccato click of Janet’s high heels, the smell of antiseptic, the soft hum of the infirmary’s numerous machines. Anything but the sway of the ship, the screams of anger and pain from below, and the rasp of Jack’s breathing that seemed to echo so loudly in his ears. The colonel’s eyes were open but he seemed unaware of anything but the pain he was in and that scared Daniel more than anything; he had known Jack to joke his way through every kind of injury.

A harsh whisper brought him out of his temporary musing. "Fraiser’s going have my ass for this!"

"God, Jack… I thought…"

The attack came almost without warning; one moment all the fighting had been on the deck below them, then suddenly one of Black Pete’s men came hurtling up the ladder, knife between his teeth, murder in his heart. Some of Daniel’s training must have stuck, for without thought he launched himself at his opponent before he could reach the top and reclaim his weapon. With a grunt of exertion they fell the few feet to the deck below and into the bloody battle taking place there.

He had landed on top of his assailant, knocking the wind out of them both. Raising himself up quickly, Daniel had no thought but to disarm the pirate. His fist connected with the pirate’s solar plexus, driving the last of the man’s breath from his body. Grabbing quickly for the blade he reversed it and brought it down in a hard swift blow to the temple. It gave him some small measure of completion to know that this man would be sporting a black eye similar to his own very soon. His complacency didn’t last. He had barely made it to his feet when another of Pete’s men came barrelling at him. One swift movement and Daniel’s recently acquired weapon flew out of his hand, leaving him helpless.

This pirate’s choice of weapon was a cutlass. Just the sight of the large heavy blade, discoloured with the blood of his victims, was enough to send any sane twentieth century man running in the opposite direction. Daniel didn’t have that luxury; he had nothing with which to defend himself. No way to…

***

Chapter five

"Leave him."

Instantly the pirate’s hand dropped at that softly spoken command.

Daniel dared to raise his eyes from his attackers. Walking with calm assurance across the deck came a man Daniel assumed to be Black Pete. As the man moved the men who had been at one another’s throats stepped back, leaving his way free from hindrance. Once he had passed, they closed behind him, continuing their life or death struggle.

Heart pounding with no chance of lessening its frantic beating, Daniel tried to steady himself. The pirate captain that stood before him was a picture of elegance. Not for this man the rough leggings, the hard wearing coats. For him it was silks and crushed velvets. From the tips of his shiny black shoes to the top of his rakish hat he was the epitome of studied perfection. His hair was the softest of pale gold, more suited to a woman than a man. His skin was untouched by the sun, his eyes a blue that rivalled Daniel’s own, though without his warmth. The only thing that set him apart was the unrelieved black of his garb.

"Black Pete, I presume?" Daniel managed.

The pirate’s laughter rolled across the decks.

"What gave me away?" The voice was a pleasant baritone with a hint of laughter in it that did not reach those strangely lifeless eyes. The captain looked down at his clothing, following Daniel’s gaze. "Ah, you think this is what gives me my name. No, no, I might just have easily decided on puce or red this morning."

Pete murmured an order to the pirate at his side, and nodded pleasantly to Daniel. "You will wait here for me. I have something to attend to." The black clad captain strolled to the ladder, making his way casually up to the deck above. As Daniel watched, he saw the man note Jack’s body, saw the slight tip of lips as they almost made a smile, then the pirate was facing the still fighting men on the decks below him.

"You will stop, now. My crew, stand down. Mission’s crew step back or I will deal with you myself."

Though he had not raised his voice, every man on the ship heard his words. Men who had been fighting for their very lives stopped, turning bewildered faces to the emaculate pirate. The power of his voice seemed to leach the murderous rage from every heart. As one, Pete’s crew put away their weapons. Mission’s men reluctantly followed suit, their fear of the black captain suddenly re-established in their hearts and minds. Soon no one was armed save Captain Mission himself, who stood alone on the deck, the pirates having moved back from him as though he carried the Black Death.

Daniel could feel the deadly tension in the air between the two men. The feeling made worse by the solemn faces of all the men around him. There was no hint of passion, or anger on any of Pete’s men, just a bland acceptance that something was about to happen. Mission’s crew seemed filled with the same hopeless capitulation.

"My dear Mission, do you still defy me?" The tone itself was a studied insult and it seemed that its only purpose was to goad the French captain to some rash act.

"This is my ship, Pete! Mine! Get your filthy crew off my decks!"

Slowly the black clad pirate made his way down to the deck and strolled unhurriedly up to the, by now almost frantic, Frenchman.

"Henri, this is not your ship. You know as well as I that this…" he cast a disparaging look around the deck, noting the fallen mast, the tangle of rigging, the bloody bodies, "vessel belonged to my so very dear friend Jake. Not that he has much use for it now of course." The cold blue eyes flicked to his own ship and every eye followed his movement. Hanging from the main mast, just below the first of the huge black sails, swung Jake’s severed head, eyes bulging as if fear had followed him even to this moment.

Daniel could not remove his gaze from the grisly trophy. With each fresh wave it danced in the clear air, hypnotic in its grotesque fascination.

"Now, down to business. You removed from the island something that belonged to me. Don’t attempt to deny it," he over rode Mission’s hurried denial. "Our mutual friend Jake assured me that he had seen it in your own hands. I want it back, now."

Daniel dragged his gaze back from Jake’s terror-filled face with a strange reluctance. He had never understood the fascination of the crowd for a traffic accident until now. There was something compelling in the grim spectacle that drew him even though he felt contempt for himself for feeling that way.

Henri Mission was a brave man, one for whom death was a means to an end if required – but not his own. Even from this distance Daniel could see the growing fear in the man’s eyes, the subtle drop of his shoulders indicating defeat as Pete strolled closer to his victim. Suddenly Mission’s blade flashed out, surprising every man aboard the ship. With a scream of defiance he leapt forward, striking out at his apparently defenceless tormentor. Beside him Daniel’s guard took a hasty step toward his captain, and for the briefest moment his grip relaxed on his captive’s arm. Seizing the moment, Daniel ripped his arm away and made a dash for the upper deck. His only concern at that moment was for Jack who may even now be dying, alone, untended. He made two steps before being caught. The blow to his back sent him spinning around in time to see the outcome of Mission’s attempt on Pete’s life.

Time slowed, or so it seemed to Daniel and those watching the confrontation. The Frenchman’s blade flashed towards Pete’s unprotected neck as the pirate stood motionless, apparently waiting his demise. Then Daniel saw the sudden sparkle that engulfed the black clad pirate and watched in horror as Mission’s blade bounced off the shield to go skittering across the deck – his defeat total and uncompromising.

"Goa’uld?" Daniel muttered under his breath. But that didn’t seem to fit. Since the reluctant co-operation of the Tok’ra, the SGC knew pretty much every system lord. Every name was more than familiar to the archaeologist whose knowledge of ancient races and their belief systems was enormous. He had never come across a deity called ‘Black Pete’ in any of his researches, and never had there been a pirate who held the sort of sway that could turn him into a god-like being. No Goa’uld they had come across lived like this, with followers who did not bear some symbol of their slavery. But if not a Goa’uld then where did the shield technology come from?

Ash blonde hair blowing in the wind, Pete’s head tipped back and his laughter echoed on the breeze, chilling every heart. Daniel felt his guard’s hand grip a little tighter, communicating a sense of expectancy.

"Henri, Henri, when will you learn to curb that temper of yours. Now, where is my box and where is the key?"

Mission remained quiet, all the fight knocked out of him, or so it seemed. Then he raised his head; the implacable eyes met those of Black Pete in defiance. Daniel couldn’t understand the man’s reluctance to give up Jack and himself, for surely he knew that they had more than a little to do with this current impasse? Unless… perhaps he believes it to still be on the island, Daniel speculated.

Pete moved closer to his victim, his foot knocking against the side arm that had been kicked to the lower decks by Mission earlier. Stooping down, he lifted the weapon, turning it over in his slender fingers. The elegant head turned to where Daniel stood, a smile lit the handsome face, the cold blue eyes seemed to bore through Daniel, rooting him to the spot.

As though he had been using the gun for years, Pete slipped off the safety catch and aimed it at a point right in the middle of Daniel’s forehead. Sweat already beaded his brow and now Daniel could feel the dampness increase under his arms and down his back. It seemed his mind had become divorced from the traitorous actions of his body, for he felt suddenly very calm, in control. He had nothing to fear; after all, he knew where the key was, and the box. The fact that he didn’t possess either didn’t seem to matter at that moment. Pete’s gaze, hypnotic, compelling, made him want to speak, want to tell the man everything he knew - and yet somewhere inside himself he was screaming, no, no, no!

Black Pete turned his attention back to Mission, releasing Daniel from his strange influence bare moments before Daniel had intended to speak. Shudders ran through him, reaction to the sudden release of his mind. Not Goa’uld, not Goa’uld, he kept repeating to himself, over and over. He had yet to meet one of those arrogant bastards who he wouldn’t cheerfully spit in their eye. Not this man, damn, it was hard enough to meet his gaze without faltering. He would have to warn Jack to keep his eyes down. Jack! God, if this didn’t end soon, Jack was going to die on the deck above him, alone. Dare he let Pete know that he held the key, dare he try to barter for Jack’s life?

There was a sudden loud blast, and splinters of wood leapt into the air at Mission’s feet. Pete turned his gaze back to Daniel, "An interesting weapon, my thanks for the gift." Aiming the gun higher so that the muzzle pointed straight at the Frenchman’s heart. "I think, yes I truly think, my dear Henri, that you must tell me where my property is."

Daniel watched the slim finger begin to pull back on the trigger once more, could see the acceptance in Henri’s eyes and spoke.

"Wait. Wait. The captain doesn’t have the key any more, I do." As Pete turned, Daniel dropped his eyes slightly, resting his gaze on the intricate folds of the pirate’s neck adornment.

"So. Andre, search him." The gun never wavered from its target even as Pete waited for Andre’s words.

Unfriendly hands delved into every pocket; patted him up and down in an intimate foray of his person. The only find the ruffian made was the copy of the map that he tucked back into Daniel’s top pocket, that action telling its own tale.

"Nothing, Captain, the gold isn’t on him." The ruffian’s scornful voice echoed loudly in Daniel’s ear.

He had Pete’s full attention now, the side arm swinging in his direction, the barrel pointed at his chest. "You don’t look to be foolish," mused the black captain’s soft voice, "so why are you so eager to put your life on the line?"

"I do have the rod, just not on me. I hid it below decks before you arrived. I’ll show you." Then he made the mistake of letting his eyes rise to meet the vivid blue of his captor’s. Once again he felt as though his mind were being picked over like bargains in a sale.

"Lead on, then. Andre, go with him, if he is lying you may take the appropriate action, though don’t damage him too much. Now, Henri, we have a score to settle."

As Daniel was marched through the corridor to the steps leading down into the storage area he had so recently escaped from, he heard the spit of his gun again, and heard a thud above him.

The sound halted him in his tracks, almost feeling the impact of bullet against flesh. Unthinking, he tried to turn around, to do what he could for Mission, even though he knew that the man must be dead. The look in Black Pete’s eye had held no compassion, no hint of mercy. Andre’s hands shoved him roughly ahead, allowing him no time to make a plea. In his heart Daniel felt one more piece of guilt wrap its way around him, even as his head assured him that there had been no way to prevent what had occurred. His heart and mind warred often, leaving him emotionally battered and scarred. Something he hid as best he might from the penetrating gaze of the rest of the team. He knew they cared for him, worried about him at times, but they had their jobs to do, and he was determined not to undermine their resolve with issues of his own.

It didn’t take long to find the golden receptacle. Even though the ship had taken on water, and the crates had been strewn across the hold, the bright gleam of metal shone in the gloom.

"Pick it up. Now give it to me," Andre ordered as Daniel complied. The sudden snatch of the pirate’s hand told much about the man’s greed.

Daylight almost blinded him as Daniel exited back onto the deck. Pete had moved to the ship’s rail and was bellowing orders across to his own ship. With wary eyes, Daniel scanned the area, looking for the Frenchman’s corpse. Two swarthy individuals were dragging the captain’s body toward the stern. With a couple of hefty swings, Mission’s body was summarily thrown overboard, the resultant heavy splash sending a shiver down Daniel’s spine.

There was a sudden hush, the raucous voices all around him suddenly stilled, all eyes turning to where a plank had been secured between the two vessels. Coming slowly across was a woman, dressed in purest white, gold hair coiled around her head accentuating the classically perfect features. Pete waited for her, the air of cheerful superciliousness gone, deference sat in every line of his body, in the way he held out his hand to help her to descend to the gently swaying deck, in the slight bow of his head.

Daniel found himself almost open-mouthed at the vision. She was familiar, and yet he was positive that had he met someone so flawlessly beautiful he would surely remember where – and he could not pin down a time or place. It was frustrating, irritating, and he knew the puzzle would stay with him, bugging him, until the mystery was solved.

Escorted by the pirate captain, the woman made her way up to the poop deck and bent over the fallen form of Jack O’Neill. Daniel wanted nothing more than to join them but Andre had tight hold of his arms so he watched with anxious eyes and prayed for a miracle.

Seconds passed, each one seeming to last an hour to Daniel’s torment, finally she rose, nodded to the pirate, and made her way back to the deck. Behind her, Pete barked his orders. With infinite care four stalwart men lifted Jack from the deck and bore him in her wake.

"What’s going on?" Daniel pleaded with his captor, not really expecting any reply. To his amazement, Andre spoke.

"Captain wants your friend alive it seems, and ‘she’ has agreed. There’s not many she’ll do that for."

"She?" There seemed no harm in asking; his situation couldn’t be much worse.

"Xera," Andre replied, his tone almost hushed as though afraid she might hear.

***

Chapter six

Xera’s hands rested lightly on Jack’s torso, her eyes slipping shut as she concentrated on finding and healing the internal damage. At her insistence everyone had left the room, leaving just Daniel to watch the woman work from his place on the dusty floor. Rope cut deeply into his wrists once again as he tried to ease his hands free of their bonds with no success.

The healer seemed unaware of his scrutiny as her slender fingers slid over bruised flesh, probing, testing. With each passing moment her face seemed to lose some of its colour, lines of fatigue etched themselves into her face leaving her grey. Under her ministrations Jack suddenly moaned, the first sound he had uttered since being brought on board. Daniel could only hope it was a good sign. With a gasp, Xera pulled away from the bed, her hands groping blindly for support, staggering toward Daniel’s place on the floor: finding none she sank to the floor, leaning back against the wall her head in her hands. She had landed bare inches away from him, and Daniel could see the shaking of her fingers where they rested against her face, sheer exhaustion seemed to have taken her completely.

"Xera," he called softly.

She raised her head; then, with a soft sigh she fainted, landing across Daniel’s chest, bearing him down to the floor. With his hands tied behind him, there was little he could do to make the situation more comfortable for either of them. She rested like a dead weight against his chest, pushing his bound arms tight to the floor, the circulation even now beginning to lessen. If he moved, she would surely hit her head on the wooden floor and somehow Daniel didn’t think damaging the healer would go over well with Black Pete.

So he lay still, listening to her breathing, feeling her warmth seep into him, smelling the soft scent of her. It was familiar and yet exotic. Flowers maybe, or … She moved, her hand reaching out blindly to push herself upright, landed on his midriff and pushed the air out of his lungs. His gasp seemed to bring her to her senses and she struggled up under her own steam, eyes wary on his.

The awe that everyone seemed to have for this woman had been itching at him like a sore. The fear in which the Ancients seemed to be held made him wonder if she were one of that powerful race who had gone from the galaxy so long ago. Dredging his memory for all that he could remember of the Ancient’s language, he spoke.

"Xera, are you okay? You fainted," at least he hoped he had the right word there as he watched her eyebrows rise.

"I am well, I thank you." Her tone was soft though each word was perfectly formed and easy to hear.

Right, very formal in speech, so maybe their culture had progressed technologically but kept the formality of an earlier age. It could be the reason that they had reached so far. Rules of behaviour, rules of conduct to limit war-like tendencies, Daniel found himself musing.

"You know our speech though your accent is strange. It is long since I heard it from any not of the Xeen."

Daniel wasn’t sure he’d properly translated that last name, but that was the closest his brain could manage from the softly whispered syllables.

"I think we may have ancestors in common. We are from Earth, we came through the Stargate - the circle of symbols."

"I am unfamiliar with the name ‘Earth’." Her voice held curiosity. And, he noted she did not query his coming through the Stargate, nor the name of the circle.

Putting on his most earnest face, he turned the full force of his blue eyes on her unwavering brown. "If I were untied I could draw the symbol for you. I think you would know my home."

The minute he mentioned freeing him from his bonds, Xera had moved back from him, her face reflecting her thoughts. As clearly as though she had spoken, her eyes flashed ‘deception’.

Daniel half expected her sudden exit to bring forth one of Pete’s charming crew to wreak retribution but the door remained firmly shut after her quick exit.

"Lost that famous Jackson charm then? Always knew it would wear off at the most inappropriate moment." Jack had propped himself up against the back of the bed and was now contemplating his friend from that lofty position apparently none the worse for his ordeal.

"It’s hard to be convincing with ‘both’ hands tied behind my back!" Daniel quipped back, then let his concern echo in his voice. "You feel up to getting me out of these?"

Jack ignored him, eyes searching the room. "How many on board this ship. What are the odds?"

Relaxing back onto the floor Daniel contemplated the ceiling and did a mental head count. "At least thirty I should think. Not good odds, huh? So I guess that means I stay trussed up like a turkey until we find out what Pete has in store for us."

"Until we can get some weaponry in our hands, and get anywhere near land, I think we’ll have to play possum."

Daniel didn’t miss the frustration in the older man’s tone, nor the fact that the colonel was just itching to do something, anything, to get them out of this.

"Possum, huh? New military term for me – Jack O’Neill special?"

Dark brown eyes caught his, and then Jack shrugged, turning away again to once more reassess the room.

"So, who was the woman you offended. By the way, what on earth made you think she’d untie you?"

Shock ran through Daniel like a physical wave. "You understood what I said to Xera?"

"Oh, was that her name, yeah, sure I did. Why?"

"Jack, I wasn’t speaking English."

"You weren’t?" The frown between his eyes seemed to indicate genuine puzzlement. "Then what…"

"She is one of the Ancients, Jack. You had their whole language in your head, remember? I thought the Asgard wiped it from your memory. But…" His mind was racing. Back in his lab Jack had opened the gold receptacle with an ease that hinted at long acquaintance and familiarity.

Using the ancient language, he asked, "Are you sure you do not remember any of the Ancients language?"

"Look, Daniel, how many times do I have to tell you, I don’t remember a damn thing. Thor and his little buddies wiped it out of my head. There’s nothing left, nada, zip, zilch, okay!"

Switching back to English, he replied seriously, "You just answered me in the Ancients tongue, Jack."

Jack threw himself back on the bed. "Oh crap!"

****

It was dark in the cabin before anyone came to see how the prisoners fared. Jack had been surmising that the pirates intended to starve them into submission when the door was flung open to bang loudly against the wall. Xera entered the room, behind her stood one of the swarthy band that followed the black captain. In his hand was Daniel’s side arm, pointed squarely at the colonel’s midriff.

"Don’t even think about it, "came the gruff order. "Captain may not want you dead but he won’t mind a little bit of damage done if you understand me." The last statement was followed by a most unpleasant chuckle that boomed around the cabin.

Xera turned her eyes to the pirate and he immediately paled. He muttered something under his breath and she turned away from him, her eyes cold. She snapped her fingers and a young lad of maybe thirteen came into the room bearing a loaded tray of food. With a gesture Xera indicated that Daniel should be untied.

Even the rank smell of the pirate couldn’t wash out the sudden overwhelming hunger that set his stomach rumbling. The nausea from the ship’s motion seemed to have subsided a little and his body was now protesting his lack of sustenance. He waited impatiently as the long bladed knife sawed through his bonds. The sudden rush of blood to his hands sent waves of pain shooting up his arms. Pins and needles pricked at his fingers leaving them as useless as before. Xera came and knelt before him, her hands capturing his; his eyes widened in surprise at the sudden flow of warmth that seeped into him. In moments the blood had returned to its normal circulation, the pain had gone from his arms and her hands were gone from his to move to the now festering wound over his eye.

Without thinking he raised his hand to capture hers, only to find her guard’s knife at his throat. "Don’t touch her!"

From the corner of his eye, Daniel could see Jack easing himself off the bed and raised his hand to stop him. "It’s okay, Jack. Just a misunderstanding." Turning his eyes to the pirate, "I’m sorry. I won’t touch her."

He so wanted to speak to Xera, to apologise in her own tongue, to try and form some rapport with her, for in both his head and his heart he was sure she was their only chance of survival. But he and Jack had agreed that their knowledge of the Ancients tongue must be held secret, or Jack’s at least. There was always the chance that Xera had already told Black Pete of Daniel’s use of the long dead tongue.

Once again her hand raised to his face and he watched her closely, keeping perfectly still. The pirate had stepped back out of her way at her signal and now stood glaring at them from the doorway. Once more he felt the tingle of warmth seep into him; saw the almost involuntary narrowing of her eyes as she concentrated on healing him. This close he could see every fine line on her face. Though her skin was the colour of porcelain it had the soft texture of a child, and yet she was no child. There was something compelling about her, something that reminded him of the classical statues of ancient Greece.

When she was done, Daniel found that he had his full vision once more, the ache that had radiated from the swollen eye had also gone, leaving him almost giddy with relief.

Her eyes were on his again and a faint hint of a smile lingered around her mouth. He smiled back, feeling tension drain from him. Very softly, so that the man at the door could not hear him, he thanked her in her own tongue. With a graceful bow of her head that would have done Teal’c proud, she rose and left them to their food

The minute they were alone again, with Daniel surprisingly unbound, Jack began his interrogation.

"Okay, what happened just now? I thought she was a healer, like the ship’s doctor or something. The way that pirate looked at her I thought he was gonna drop dead of fright there and then!"

"I have no idea. It could be she is Pete’s…" His hand waved vaguely in the air.

"Yeah, yeah, I get your meaning but I don’t think so somehow."

"Agreed. You didn’t see the deference with which he treated her earlier. I’m not sure he speaks her language though. They didn’t speak at all on Mission’s ship, just escorted her to you and saw her back to his ship when she indicated she was ready to leave." Daniel gave him a quick run down on all that had happened on the ship, ending with… "And yet, I can’t see anyone with her healing skills putting up with a killer like Black Pete."

"Hey, who knows what women will do? Damned if I know. Never did understand ‘em, never will."

Daniel sent his friend a quizzical look. "You talk about them as though they were a different species."

"And so they are," Jack nodded. "Right, so how do we make use of this one to get us off this bloody ship before someone decides its time to test my patience any further."

"If I could just talk to her for a while," Daniel began, then the door opened once more.

"Gentlemen. I am glad to see you well again." Black Pete’s presence seemed to fill the cabin. Daniel immediately dropped his eyes to focus on the intricately tied cravat around the pirate’s throat and hoped that Jack had taken his warning seriously.

In the pirate’s hand rested the gold rod that had caused them so much trouble. With a flick of his wrist he opened it, showing the empty tube to both men. "So, a little question for you both. Where is the map? And where is the box?"

Daniel spoke quickly, "You have the key in your hand, I didn’t know that it opened. It’s just as we found it…"

Pete stepped forward, his face like thunder.

Jack slid off the bed and put himself between Daniel and the pirate.

"Hey, listen big guy, what Daniel’s saying is the truth. When you found us on the island there was only the rod, no box, okay. Screaming about it isn’t going to change anything."

But Jack had made the mistake of letting his eyes rise to meet Pete’s. The captain moved closer, holding the colonel’s gaze with his own. "So, but your friend said that you knew where the box was. Mission’s men were very voluble after some small persuasion. Is it back on the island?"

Daniel saw the struggle on Jack’s face as he tried to keep from answering. With a gasp he blurted out, "No, it’s not on this world any more," before managing to drag his eyes away from Pete’s unwavering gaze.

Pete seemed thunderstruck, then anger boiled visibly in his eyes. "You fools. You sent the box through the circle! You lost the map! You have condemned us to life on this miserable planet! Damn you. Xera could have taken us to the Ancients, could have sent us home!"

Jack and Daniel moved slowly away from the demented pirate, taking opposite directions. Pete, as though knowing that Daniel would be the easier option, leapt for him, hands outstretched to wrap around his neck. All the deadly calm that he had evinced during the battle on Mission’s ship had been wiped away by the discovery. And Daniel was damned if he was going to tell him that the map and the symbols from the box resided in the top pocket of his fatigues.

Even though Daniel had been partly prepared for the attack, the sheer speed and ferocity had him trying to dance back from the outstretched hands but not quickly enough. Slim fingers wrapped themselves around Daniel’s throat and it was only seconds before his vision blurred as he fought for breath.

Just as the pirate’s grip seemed certain to spell unconsciousness for Daniel, his grip relaxed and Pete slid to the floor, leaving Daniel gasping for air.

Jack, his face grim, put down the thin cord he had used to throttle the man.

"Dead?" Daniel managed through his crushed vocal cords.

"No, thought that might not be wise. Give me a hand, we’ll put him on the bed and call for help. Perhaps your lady friend will come and tend to him and we can get some answers out of her. Like… does this mean we are stranded here too!"

Through the open door, one of Pete’s men suddenly appeared. Daniel recognised him as Andre, the pirate who had been his captor on Mission’s ship. There was no way to hide the fallen body of Black Pete or cover the fact that they must have been responsible.

Moments later they were surrounded, ropes were brought and the two men were once again tied up. Andre had disappeared the instant they had been restrained and now returned with Xera.

She sent a searching glance to where Daniel stood defiant, seeming to note the angry marks around his throat, before moving to the black pirate’s side and making a quick assessment. Her soft voice with its broken English directed the crew to remove Pete. As she left she caught Daniel’s eye once more, her gaze solemn.

It was the first time Daniel had heard her speak anything except her own language. The fact that she was not fluent gave him pause, perhaps she was not alone on this world, or perhaps she had not been here long, or… the possibilities were endless. Even more he wanted to sit with her, talk to her; she fascinated him.

That was the last time they were to be left alone. From that moment there was a guard with them every minute of the day. Even taking care of personal matters was done with an incurious yet vigilante pirate at their shoulder. There was no opportunity for speech, no way to plan or plot, just mind numbing boredom laced with the fear that when Pete was up again life was going to take a turn for the worse.

***

"You hear that?"

Daniel had been half-asleep, lulled by the gentle rocking of the ship and lack of food that allowed his stomach some rest from its bouts of seasickness.

"What?" His attention still not really focussed.

"I think we just moored somewhere. Listen."

From above came the sounds of activity: feet running, chains clanking, the shouts of the crew to one another. Daniel sent a quick glance to the guard who stood, back against the door, watching them. He too seemed to stop and listen, a small smile lightening the savage face.

"I think you’re right. Dry land seems like a good idea to me, wherever we end up."

He could almost guess at Jack’s thoughts at that moment. That once on land they might stand a better chance of escape, of finding a way back to the Stargate – of getting home. Though for Daniel his curiosity was still unquenched. He wanted to know where the Ancients were now, wanted to know what the extra symbol meant on the gate, wanted to decipher the language that still resided in his pocket, undetected by Pete’s men.

***

Bright sunlight beat down upon them as they stood on the deck. The heat was incredible, leaching the moisture from them in minutes. Already dehydrated and lacking food, Daniel felt the world spin for a moment.

Before them, spread out like a haphazard patchwork, lay the town. Built almost to the wharf, houses jostled one another for space and then, further back as the land sloped in and up, the houses seemed bigger, less densely packed. In the far distance tree bedecked hills glistened in the morning light.

Anticipation, barely held in check, radiated from Jack like a beacon, though the pirates who escorted them off the ship seemed oblivious to the changes in O’Neill’s attitude.

Feeling solid ground under his feet for the first time in four days, Daniel felt like dropping to his knees and kissing the filthy stone quay. The moment he had stepped off the gangplank his stomach had stopped churning, the sick headache had miraculously vanished, and his mind once more began to function on all levels.

While he knew Jack would be looking for an opportunity to escape, Daniel was more fascinated by the teeming populous that parted before them and their escort. The clothing was predominantly what he would have expected from the seventeenth century, though lighter weight in concession to the relentless heat. Curious eyes watched them, then turned to where the huge ship rested at anchor. Daniel turned to see what held their attention, ignoring the insistent prod from his jailer. Coming down the ramp, Xera, head held high, paced slowly, behind her Black Pete, his throat still bearing the red weal of Jack’s garrotting. For a moment their eyes locked, and he shivered, seeing the enmity in the icy blue depths. He had often wondered over the past few days why no retribution had been forthcoming; perhaps it was only that Pete wanted time and privacy for his revenge.

"Move!"

He stumbled forward, bumping into Jack, using the diversion to whisper; "She didn’t heal him!"

Jack’s glance showed he understood the implications. Either Xera could not, or perhaps would not, heal the pirate captain. Which meant that maybe, just maybe, they had an ally on this godforsaken planet.

Marching quickly through the crowd they soon reached their destination – what appeared to be a storage room. Their accommodation was cramped; the walls, thick against the noonday sun, still did little to protect them from the intense heat. In their favour their bonds had been removed and a small jug of water had been left for them, though at least one fly had drowned in the brownish liquid.

Jack fished out the corpse, then handed the jug to Daniel after taking a small sip himself. His face creased in disgust. "I’d take it easy on that stuff, I think more than a fly might have died in it!"

Daniel sipped cautiously and agreed. The bitter taste sat in his mouth unpleasantly but it was the first water they had been given in over twelve hours and his body was beginning to protest.

"What now?" Daniel asked, as he watched Jack prowl the tiny room. Only one door led to freedom and they had heard the solid thud of a barrier being brought down as they had been pushed into the cell. The walls, bare of any decoration, seemed solid, their construction precise, maybe too precise for the era that it seemed they had been brought to. And then Daniel thought of Xera, of the legacy she might hold, and his mind was swamped with questions once more.

Jack slid down the wall and sat opposite Daniel, wrists resting lightly on his knees. Leaning his head back, he gazed at the ceiling and sighed. "You know, there are days when being locked up with no hope of escape really loses its appeal. We wait."

"I wonder if Xera can get us off this planet," Daniel murmured.

Jack’s eyes fell to contemplating the intense gaze opposite him. "I thought our pirate friend said there was no way through the gate without the box?"

"I know, but…" he fished in his top pocket and brought out his notebook. "When the SGC went over the box they found no technology, right? So maybe it’s not the box itself we need, just the symbols that were on the box. Perhaps they are instructions of some sort."

"’Perhaps’, ‘maybe’ - Daniel, SG19 came through the gate just fine. No codes, no instructions just dialled up and came home. There must be something in the box."

"Okay, but what if…"

"Don’t start with the what ifs. We need the box, we don’t have the box, it’s that simple."

"Jack…"

"No."

An uneasy silence settled between them. There was no talking to Jack in this mood so Daniel returned the notebook to his top pocket, shut his eyes and let his mind sift through what little they knew about the Ancients, about the box, about the writings – which was basically damned little he sighed to himself.

***

Chapter seven

"Daniel."

No reply.

"Daniel!" Jack’s foot caught him in the thigh, rocking him over. The assault unexpected so lost in contemplation had he become.

"Company," Jack hissed.

Outside he could hear the sound of voices, though the words were indistinguishable. He rose quickly to his feet to stand by Jack, waiting expectantly. Deep inside he had the feeling this was going to change everything. He didn’t know why, he didn’t know how, he just knew.

***

From outside the building was no different to any other except for its size and location. Perched on a hill on the outskirts of the town, it looked down upon the denizens below as though watching all that went on. Inside, slender columns, marble floors, and clean lines diametrically different to the scruffy houses they had passed on the way here confronted Daniel and Jack.

Seated on a raised dais, Xera surveyed them. All his instincts warned Daniel that even though they seemed to be alone, the guards having left them with some relief at the door, they were still observed. There was something about her that commanded respect, not just her beauty, but some inner quality he could not define. He bowed his head in greeting, noting with surprise that Jack had followed his lead and was standing patiently beside him. Perhaps all the arguments they had had over the years about rushing into situations was finally paying off.

"We will talk now and then I shall make my decision upon your fate. Your names; your planet; the method of your arrival, I wish to know all this." Her eyes moved from one man to the other, the soft tones of the Ancient’s language whispering around the room. "You will show me the symbol," her eyes now on Daniel.

He stepped forward to where ink and paper lay ready. "My name is Daniel Jackson. This," he indicated Jack with a nod of his head, "is Jack O’Neill. We came through the Stargate, the circle of symbols." With quick strokes he sketched the symbol that positioned Earth in the galaxy.

Xera’s eyes rested thoughtfully on the drawing before lifting to meet Daniel’s bright blue gaze. The frown between her eyes seemed wrong; worry didn’t belong on such a wonderful face. Daniel almost jumped at the sudden rush of feeling that swept through him; he wanted to brush the lines from her face, tell her there was nothing to worry about. He shook himself, trying to get the strange sensations from his head.

"We had thought the devices buried beyond finding. It is disturbing to know that they still exist. Hermes could find no trace of any of the three."

"Hermes?" Daniel stuttered.

"Three?" Jack barked, stunned.

If Xera noted the men’s different concerns she made no acknowledgement. Her eyes and her attention were still for Daniel.

"The name is known to you? That is strange. He was supposed to have observed only. Though I am far from knowing what my people have done this last millennia."

"Are you telling me you’re stranded here too? Oh that’s just peachy!"

"Jack, Hermes! Do you realise who that was…?"

"And did you hear her say three Stargates?!"

"Yes, but…"

"Ah…"Jack held up a hand warningly suddenly deciding to take part in the conversation. His whole attention focused on the third gate.

"Listen, Xera, we know of two gates on Earth…"

"Were others of your race on Earth too … Apollo, Aphrodite?"

Jack and Daniel’s voices collided.

"Silence!"

Her voice, though soft, held limitless authority. Both men quieted much to their mutual surprise.

From behind them they heard the doors swing open, brisk footfalls echoed on the marble flooring, and Daniel knew their nemesis had arrived.

He saw Jack’s head turn, heard the muttered, "Oh crap!" and made himself stand a little straighter, moving back from the table, giving himself room to manoeuvre should the need arise. Tucked in the back of his mind was the knowledge that even if they did escape this room, this town, there was nowhere to go. No way off the island save for Black Pete’s ship riding at anchor on the quay, no way to dial up the Stargate even if they could find their way back across a hostile sea. Defeat settled in him, uncomfortable in its newness – he didn’t give in, he never gave up, and he always fought back somehow. His eyes lifted to Xera’s and found her watching him, a message in her eyes that gave him hope.

A thin red weal still circled Pete’s throat just visible above the casually knotted cravat. His eyes rested briefly on Daniel and Jack then he moved to stand a few feet from where Xera was seated.

"You were not summoned. Why do you intrude?"

Her English seemed to have suddenly improved much to Daniel’s fascination. But at least he now knew that Pete was not an Ancient, or why not use that language? Xera knew that her captives, well he at least, was familiar with her language.

"My dear Xera, you have my prisoners and I have unfinished business with them." The harsh rasp owed much to the damage Jack had inflicted, the rest to the anger so obviously held back.

"They are your prisoners no more. I informed you before we landed that they were now my concern, not yours. You will leave now."

"I don’t think so." The menace in his voice made the hairs on Daniel’s neck stand on end.

"If you ever want to get off this planet you need me, my ship, my expertise. These two know where the box is. I don’t believe for a minute that it’s beyond my reach." His gaze moved to Jack, who quickly lowered his eyes.

"I am questioning them myself, you will be informed of anything I believe relevant." Xera snapped her fingers and from every side came her personal guard. Daniel recognised some of the faces from the ship, men he had thought loyal to Black Pete.

"You deny me! They are mine, I will deal with them in my own way!"

Pete took two steps toward where Xera had now risen from her seat. Daniel spotted the movement first. Pete’s right hand had been in his capacious jacket pocket throughout; now he pulled forth Daniel’s own side arm. He saw the man’s intent and threw himself in front of the apparently unprotected woman.

"Daniel, no!"

He vaguely heard Jack’s yell as he lunged into the bullet’s path; he couldn’t stop himself even if he had wanted to. One person was already dead because of him he would not add another to the list.

Pain blossomed through him with amazing speed. Fire spread from the bullet’s entry point just below his sternum, reaching to every part of him in seconds. Blood pounded in his head as his blood pressure rocketed then sank. He felt himself falling, unable to do anything to stop himself. For one moment he cast his eyes to where Xera stood, her eyes wide, the golden glitter of a shield encompassing her. All for nothing, he thought as unconsciousness took him. He didn’t feel the impact of his body against the marble flooring, nor hear Jack’s curses as he ran to where he lay, blood seeping across the white floor.

***

Xera’s fingers touched the small globe that protected her from attack. Pete had thought her unaware of its theft and had taken little precaution in hiding it. Had he really thought he could take her property with impunity? There had been no danger to her person, but the young man, Daniel, had thrown himself into the line of fire, an act she would not forget nor allow to go unrewarded. They interested her, these two humans. The one so obviously a warrior, full of caution and controlled aggression, the other so open, so trusting. A contrast that one would not expect to find so tightly bound to one another, and yet their bond was almost visible. It pleased her that humans had evolved with a sense of curiosity that would, one day, match that of her own race.

***

A cool breeze brushed lightly against his skin, a welcome relief to the day’s heat. Daniel was aware of the soft sounds of rain on earth, of the discomfort in his midriff, the feel of bandages against his skin and a sick headache that battered against his skull. Carefully he opened his eyes to the pale moonlight that washed into his room. He turned his head to try and lessen the unpleasant pounding, searching for a comfortable place to rest his head. From the shadows something moved.

"You awake?" Jack’s voice barely made it above a whisper.

Daniel gave the question serious consideration. All things being equal, he didn’t think he could feel this bad and be dead.

"Yes."

"Good. What the hell did you think you were doing? Charging in like Sir Galahad. You just have to see a damsel in distress and there you go! You don’t stop to think do you! Damn it, Daniel, what do I have to do to beat this damned white knight complex out of you?"

Jack’s raised tones were doing nothing to improve Daniel’s headache and he closed his eyes in reflex to the sudden upward spiral of noise.

"Daniel? You okay?"

"I have… a headache."

"Serves you right! Damn, I didn’t mean that. Look Xera could only do so much to help you, you’d lost a lot of blood..."

"Xera is okay?" The scene played itself out again in Daniel’s mind. Pete’s raised hand holding Daniel’s confiscated gun, Xera standing alone, the gentle squeeze of the pirate’s finger on the trigger. He vaguely recollected barrelling into the bullet’s path, pain and then darkness.

"She’s fine. Protected with what looked way too much like a Goa’uld shield for my liking. " Jack paused for a moment. "Why the hell did you do it?"

"She has to be one of the Ancient’s, Jack. I just couldn’t let Pete kill her. Besides, there’s something about her, something special. You would have done the same thing."

Jack’s gaze left Daniel’s to search out the darkness, avoiding the all too knowing gaze. "No, I wouldn’t." But his voice lacked conviction.

"What happened to Pete?"

"Damnedest thing I ever saw. She walked up to him, touched him, and he keeled over."

"He didn’t try to stop her?"

"Like a deer in the headlights."

Daniel found the image difficult to assimilate. "Pete is dead?"

"The pirate is no longer your concern." Xera stood in the doorway behind Daniel’s bed, her voice gentle on the night air.

Unable to turn to see her, Daniel shot an enquiring glance at Jack, who gave a slight negative shake of his head in warning.

"There is a bath and food waiting for you in the adjoining room, please make use of both." Xera’s tone was pointed and Daniel could understand why. It had been some time since either man had washed; even he could smell the rank odour of stale sweat emanating from himself. It wasn’t pleasant.

The request was politely given, but neither man had any doubts that she would enforce it should the need arise. With visible reluctance the colonel backed out of the room, one wary eye on the willowy woman who now stepped to Daniel’s bedside.

Daniel was hardly aware of Jack’s departure; the minute Xera had moved to his side his whole attention was focussed on her. He took in the sculpted features, noting the classic beauty of her face. Classic! He had been saying that to himself for days, now, finally, he made the connection.

She sat herself on the edge of his bed, the slight movement aggravating the ache in his stomach. One hand pressed gently on his forehead the other hovered briefly over the bandages, then rested lightly on his wound. He felt the sudden rush of warmth, saw the tension gather in her face, lines of exhaustion beginning to mar the normally smooth skin. He grabbed her wrist pulling her hand away from him.

"There’s no need, I’ll live. Don’t do this to yourself for me," he pleaded quietly in the Ancient’s tongue. "Thank you for what you have done."

For a moment their eyes locked and even in the dim light Daniel could see the sudden softening of her gaze.

"There are statues of you, did you know?"

"There are statues of me? I am surprised."

"They named a city after you."

Her eyes narrowed slightly, "You know then who I am? I had thought my people long forgotten. When we departed your home there was nothing left but the elements. Hermes returned many centuries later to make sure that all our portals were undiscovered. He reported back once then no more was heard from him. Is he there still?"

Daniel’s mind boggled at the thought of Hermes still being alive, his shock must have registered on his face for Xera patted his hand as though he were a child and shook her head.

"I suppose it was too much to hope for. But you came through a portal which means he was not wholly successful in eradicating us from your history."

"Um, he didn’t eradicate you at all, though I guess he had a vivid imagination. And as for the Stargates, it wasn’t his fault… I mean they weren’t discovered until recently. We only know of two though…"

Xera’s sigh cut him off, "We should have taken them with us. Still it is long past time for regrets. You must tell me what happened to our home after we moved on."

The headache that had been sledge-hammering its way into his brain was easing down, perhaps in response to Xera’s healing touch, perhaps to his own recuperative powers which had amazed him on occasion – or maybe the subject matter just fascinated him beyond thought of his own pain.

"Why did you leave?" His curiosity was almost overwhelming.

For a moment he thought she would not answer; sadness had settled on her, reflecting in her eyes. When she finally spoke her voice was laced with her emotions.

"Our scientists predicted that a terrible cataclysm was going to take place on the planet, so bad that most inhabitants would be destroyed. Our numbers were diminishing, we had to leave."

"You gated, I mean you travelled, to another planet?"

She rose and moved to the open window, looking out over the hillside to the vista of stars above.

"We called the council of four together. Our plight was such that we had to make sure our knowledge would be available to others when they were ready. My race was dying out even then and we are scattered far and wide. I do not know how many still survive."

Her sadness seeped into Daniel as he felt her loneliness.

"We found a repository that had data from all the council but…" How did he tell her it was gone forever, lost in the depths of a savage ocean on another planet that was doomed.

"Is it lost?" she asked, as though already aware of his answer.

"I’m sorry. I… we didn’t have time to save any of it." Daniel remembered vividly the almost overwhelming sense of loss that had held him then. The anger he had felt at Jack for taking him away from that storehouse of knowledge even though it would have been suicide to remain. And he still carried the guilt that he had not made more effort to record what little they had seen.

Though he couldn’t see her smile he was sure that she was not unduly upset. With thought to cheer her he added, "We did find one of your own repositories. A device that downloads your knowledge straight into the brain."

"Ah, that explains your knowledge of my language. You must be more advanced than I at first believed."

Daniel knew Jack would have bridled at her condescending tone, but he had a more realistic outlook on just where Earth stood in the evolutionary scale.

"Um, actually, no. That is, it does and it doesn’t. Jack got trapped in the machine and it... well it took him over. He lost all speech except for yours and it took me a while to translate it. In the end the Asgard had to take it away from him before it killed him."

She made no acknowledgement of the Asgard, as though she already knew that they had become acquainted.

"Believe me, it wasn’t pleasant!" The colonel had come back into the room without either of them hearing him. How long he had been there, Daniel couldn’t guess.

Xera rose to meet him, reaching out to touch his temple. Instinctively, Jack moved back.

"No offence, but I’ve seen what your touch can do, lady!"

"I have no intention of harming you."

Jack took another step back. "Easy for you to say."

"Jack, don’t be a total ass," Daniel’s voice came wearily from the bed.

Xera’s fingers reached out again; this time the colonel held his ground, flinching slightly as they brushed against his skin.

"Yes," she said softly. "I see."

"See what?" None of Jack’s suspicions were allayed.

Xera smiled and nodded and ignored the question. Turning to Daniel she spoke. "We will talk again later, when you are more rested. I look forward to hearing what Hermes has been up to."

"You know I really hate that!" Jack exploded, after Xera had left them alone.

"What?" Daniel’s headache was back, pounding at his skull. Perhaps he should have let Xera treat him after all; then he recalled the exhaustion he had seen on her face and knew he had made the right decision.

"The whole, ‘you’re too young, you’re not ready’, thing the big four have about us."

"We’ve only met two, three if you include Xera."

"Right. The Asgard think we are too primitive, the Nox think we are like children playing with matches…"

"Your point, Jack?"

The colonel dropped into the chair next to Daniel’s bed. "Hell, I don’t know. What I do know is that for all her ‘hello, let’s be friends’ attitude, we still have at least two guards outside the door. There are another four patrolling the gardens below this window and it wouldn’t surprise me to find this room is bugged. We are prisoners Daniel, like it or not getting out of here won’t be easy."

Daniel shifted uncomfortably on the soft sheets. He wasn’t sure if it was the warmth of the evening, or his wound, but he could feel sweat forming under his bare skin, sticking him to the material, adding to his discomfort.

"And where do we go even if we did escape? Could we really run Black Pete’s ship on our own, and which direction would we head in, and how do we get the Stargate up and running again, and…"

"Okay, okay! I hate it when you’re right."

Daniel smiled, then grimaced as pain shot through his midriff. "Ow, don’t make me laugh."

Jack felt Daniel’s brow, his palm coming away wet with sweat. "You’re burning up; I’d better see if one of our jailers can get her ladyship back here."

"No! No, don’t. It takes too much out of her, almost as if she is giving her own life force to heal. I’ll get through this, just let me rest, okay?"

***

Chapter eight

Daniel woke to the soft glow of dawn washing through the open window. His fever still burned in him; his body still ached at every movement. Thirsty, he needed water. With great care he propped himself up searching the room for water or wine, he didn’t care which, anything to quench the thirst that dried his mouth and throat until they felt like sandpaper. On a table, just out of his reach, rested a glass pitcher full to the brim and an exquisite glass goblet. Swinging his legs around, he sat on the edge of the bed, unaware of the damp sheets he left behind as testament to his illness. The room swayed, then settled and he reached for the glass so temptingly near. He hit the floor hard as his legs buckled under him, the impact sending the table and its contents crashing to the floor. Glass smashed and flew in all directions but Daniel was unaware of anything but the pain in his stomach and the pounding of his head.

There was the muffled sound of a voice that seemed to reach him from a great distance, the feel of hands on his arms, then blessed darkness as unconsciousness took him once again.

***

Evening, with its soft warmth and tranquil sounds greeted him when next he woke. Disorientation held him captive for a moment, then with a rush of memories he recalled where he was, what had happened. A sound to his left attracted his attention. Xera sat slumped in a chair, exhaustion in every line of her body, her eyes closed, her breathing short. Andre hovered protectively over her, shooting daggers at Daniel. Behind them, two stalwart pirates whom Daniel recognised from Xera’s personal guard, flanked Jack. His worried eyes met those of his friend.

"Jack?"

"When I came to check on you this morning I found you flat out on the floor, bleeding all over this nice rug. Xera did her thing, put you right."

"My mistress…" Andre began, his voice angry.

He was stilled by the touch of Xera’s hand on his arm as she sat herself more comfortably in the chair. "All is well, Andre, you may go. Take the guards with you, I am in no danger here."

From the pirate’s face, Daniel could see he did not concur, but such was Xera’s presence and command, he had no option but to obey.

Jack glared at the retreating back, spine stiff and unyielding, until they were gone.

Daniel raised himself up, waiting for the stabbing pain which did not come. He drew down the sheet and looked hard at the expanse of flesh that met his gaze. Only a puckering scar remained to mar his pale flesh.

"There are questions which must be asked. Answers I must have."

Both men stiffened at the change in Xera’s voice. There was nothing weak about her now, and Daniel sensed rather than saw Jack’s almost instinctive reach for his side arm. Neither were armed, there were guards still outside the room, there was little they could do except overpower this slender woman and use her as hostage. Everything in Daniel rebelled against such a course.

From her pocket she withdrew the bloody pages of Daniel’s notebook. The leaves, now dried red and brittle, still showed the faint outline of the symbols he had sketched. Her fingers smoothed out the wrinkled pages, then her eyes locked to Daniel’s.

"These symbols are from the box that held a gold receptacle, which in its turn held one of my peoples most treasured heirlooms.