STARGÅTE SG-1—Sam & Janet (& Jennifer Hailey) in...
		A WORK OF BONDAGE FAN-FICTION—by Van ©2007
		Chapter 2

PELLUCIGOR
THE SWAMP

---

"Sam," Janet said, quietly, "I lost my sidearm."

"Where?"

Janet swiveled her head and glared at her friend.

"Okay, okay," Sam said with a smile, "I mean close, or did it go flying as we fell?"

"Flying," Janet sighed.

Sam sighed as well, then started groping through the mud.  "We gotta try," she said.

For the next several minutes they thoroughly acquainted themselves with the thick, creamy mud of the immediate area.  Janet's Beretta remained lost.

"Enough is enough," Sam said, finally.  "Don't worry, I'll endorse your loss report when we get back."

"Very funny," Janet said, with a weak smile.  "I'm more worried about needing the pistol to help us get back."

"Not to worry," Sam responded, with a chuckle.  "I'll loan you my—"  her grin abruptly faded.  "My zat's gone too!"  Sam had taken to carrying one of the SGC's many captured zats strapped to her right thigh.  The non-leathal stun feature of the strange, Z-shaped pistol made it a useful tool, but like much of the Goa'ulds' military technology, zats were designed to impress and intimidate, with tactical utility as an afterthought.  The specially fabricated zat holsters were a compromise between rapid-draw and security, and this time, security had lost.  Sam could feel the empty holster's dangling safety straps.  "I guess you can endorse my loss report, too," she sighed.

Janet smiled, sweetly.  "I don't know, Sam.  Losing a zat is pretty careless."

"Shuddup!" Sam responded with a laugh, then nodded towards the stone platform.  "Let's see if we can climb up there and get our bearings."

They sloshed and dragged themselves to the platform.  Its sides were dressed stone.  Horizontal watermarks and rings of green moss suggested a history of seasonal flooding, and it would appear the swamp was currently at the "dry" phase of its cycle.  The top of the platform wall was only about four meters above the current level of the swamp, but they might as well have been trying to scale a tower.  Starting from deep in the semi-liquid muck, they just couldn't make the climb, even when Sam tried to give Janet a leg up.  And there was nothing in the area suitable for rigging a ladder.

"Well," Sam said, "let's find some higher ground and dry out.  Maybe I can find a branch suitable for a grappling hook and we can come back.  I need to inspect that arch."

Janet lifted a dripping brown arm from the muck and pointed to one side.  "It looks marginally higher over there," she said, "at least, from down here."

"From up here, too," Sam said, with a grin.

"Remind me to do something terrible to you, later," Janet growled.

"Deal!" Sam chuckled, and they started sloshing, crawling, and slurping their way through the mud, in the direction indicated.  "You haven't seen my cap, have you?" she asked.

Janet's cap was still on her head.  "It's over by my pistol, and your zat," the doctor answered with a muddy grin.

"That's what I was afraid of," Sam sighed, and continued forward, with grim determination.

"Sam," Janet said, quietly, "we don't know that they're dead."

"I know," Sam answered.  They struggled along for several meters.  "Deep spot."

"Wha—Glub!"

Sam fished through the mud until she found a handhold on Janet's vest, and pulled her up.  "I said—'deep spot'."

Janet coughed, sputtered, and glared.  "A little sooner with the warnings from now on, okay?"

"I'll try," Sam grinned.  "C'mon.  I think the ground is higher up ahead."

ELSEWHERE

---

Hailey opened her eyes, when squeezed them tightly closed.  The light hurt.  Everything hurt.  She had a headache that wouldn't quit, and she was lying at an awkward angle on something hard, and the ropes were digging into her armpits and...  Ropes?  She opened her eyes and blinked, ignoring the pain.  Ropes??

She was in a spherical cage of iron bars.  Her arms were folded behind her back and her wrists and arms were lashed to her upper body by a tight, symmetrical web of braided rope.  Her ankles were bound as well, as were the insteps of her feet and her big toes.  And she was naked—totally and completely naked!

The cage was about three-meters in diameter, and there was a gate-like hatch on one side, secured with what appeared to be a heavy padlock.  The closely-spaced bars were at least an inch thick, and were horizontally braced at regular intervals.  It was like being on the inside of a heavy, wire-form globe. 

Beyond the bars was a jungle encampment—small cooking fires, camouflaged tarps rigged as lean-tos and canopies, bundles of supplies—and moving about the camp were at least a dozen women.  It was difficult to get an accurate count, both because of Hailey's headache, and because all of the females were of similar size and appearance.  It didn't help that they were all identically dressed—if you could call what amounted to bikinis, camouflage bodypaint, and leather harnesses clothing.

All of the women were brunette, and were armed with knives and what were probably the energy weapons that had been used in the ambush.  Hailey watched her captors for several seconds.  All had very athletic figures—like a beach volleyball team gone to war, she mused.  She craned her neck and continued her cautious observation.  There was no sign of her SF's or Sam and Janet—as fellow captives, or in any other capacity.

"She's awake," a voice announced.

Hailey snapped her head back—Ow!—to find one of the female warriors unlocking the door of her cage.  "Who—Why am I a prisoner?"

The warrior reached in, grabbed a handful of Hailey's bonds, dragged her to the door, then seized her by the hair and pulled back her head.  "Quiet, war-slave," she growled.  She then used her teeth to pull the stopper from a small leather flask, and began pouring its liquid contents into Hailey's mouth.

Hailey did her best to resist.  "No!" she gasped, coughing and spitting.

A second warrior appeared and helped the first by pinching Hailey's nose shut with one hand and clamping her chin with the other.  Meanwhile, the first warrior forced the hard mouth of the flask between Hailey's teeth and squeezed a healthy dose of the bitter liquid directly down the captive's throat.  She then tossed the now empty flask aside and sealed Hailey's lips with a firm hand-gag.

Hailey had no choice but to swallow.  She kicked her bound feet and tried to break free, but her captors were too strong.

"Squirmy little sleen-cub, isn't she?" one of the warriors chuckled.  "Stop struggling!  It's just medicine to ease the effects of the stun-blast."

Hailey's nose and mouth were released, and she coughed and gasped.  Whatever they had given her, it seemed to be fast-working.  Her headache was already fading.  "We—we're peaceful explorers," she panted.  "There's no need to..."  She shook her head, trying to concentrate.  "Where are my people?  Let me see my—m'mmf!"

One of the warriors had stuffed a distressingly large wad of some sort of soft cloth into Hailey's mouth, while the other dropped what amounted to a harness-gag over her head.  It had a thick leather strap that cleaved her lips and forced the stuffing back in her mouth.  A suede panel covered her lower face from just below her nostrils to under her chin, and several thin straps encircled her head and throat.  The warriors secured the buckles of the gag's numerous straps, forcing her jaws to bite down on the wad in her mouth and pressing the panel tightly against her lips.  They then closed and locked the cage door.

"Where are your men, Sleen-cub?" one of the warriors sneered.  "We're sending them back to where they came from, of course.  None of their kind are allowed on PelluciGor."

Hailey's eyes popped wide and she forced a mewling, well-muffled protest past her gag.  They couldn't send her men back through the stargate, not to earth!  Unless they received the proper G.D.O. code, the SGC wouldn't open the titanium iris protecting the stargate and the SF's bodies wouldn't be able to rematerialize at the far side of the wormhole!  They'd be killed!  She tried to shout through her gag, again, but the warriors had already turned away... and her vision was beginning to swim.  The pain was gone... but...  Drugged, she realized.  Apparently, the "medicine" she'd received did more than cure a headache.  My men!  Can't keep my eyes open... Can't stay... awake.

One of the warriors turned her head and looked back over her shoulder.  Caged, naked, bound, and now gagged, Hailey was fast asleep.

"Don't even think about it," the other said.  "If Kyna catches you playing with her, you'll get squad punishment."

Her companion laughed.  "Hmm... It might be worth it, to get first crack at an un-trained pleasure-slave.  The kajirae at the regimental brothel are all so... docile."

EARTH
STARGATE COMMAND

---

The gate alarm and CMSgt Harriman's voice echoed throughout the SGC.  "Unscheduled off-world activation!  General Landry to the control room!"

"What have we got, Walter?" Landry asked as he descended the stairs from his office.  Through the window to the gate room he could see that the gate was active.  The iris was closed, as per protocol, but blue light from the wormhole's event horizon was dancing on the wall behind the gate.

"It's P69-758, General," Harriman answered, nodding at his monitor display, "Colonel Carter's mission; only there's no radio or telemetry."

Landry frowned, then thumbed the microphone attached to the console.  "Colonel Carter, are you there?  Colonel Carter?"  He turned and looked at Harriman.

"No G.D.O. code has been received," he confirmed.  "Nothing has been received."

Suddenly, a female voice crackled over the radio link.  "Our instruments tell us you are attempting to block the chap'ai.  Remove the barrier, immediately!"

Landry frowned.  "Chap'ai" was the Goa'uld word for stargate, but it was a commonly used term throughout the galaxy.  Perhaps the woman was a Goa'uld, and perhaps not.  In either case, if she had technology that could detect the iris protecting the stargate, her people were very advanced.  "This is General Landry.  We will not remove our... 'barrier' until we ascertain your intentions.  With whom am I speaking?"

"No man may come to PelluciGor," the unknown woman intoned, ignoring Landry's question.  She continued speaking, but apparently to another audience.  "Offset the destination plane by seven spans, and send them through."

The rippling light behind the iris changed color from blue to green.  At the same time, an alarm sounded from Harriman's console and his monitor flashed red.  "UNKNOWN ERROR—431" was displayed in a new window.

"431," Harriman read.  "That's one of the unmapped signal paths."  Not having a DHD, the SGC had been forced to develop their own computer interface to control the stargate, and several signal channels of no known function had been bypassed in the process.

Down in the gate room, there was a green flash in front of the closed iris.  Simultaneously, three figures appeared on the ramp.  They were the SF's of Carter's team, and they rolled down the metal incline as if they'd been tossed through the stargate from the far end.  Their weapons, vests, and web-gear were missing, they appeared to be unconscious, and they were bound with rope, hand and foot.

Landry hit a selector switch and keyed the microphone.  "Medical team to the gate room.  In the gate room: clear the ramp, and stay alert."

Several members of the gate room security force slung their weapons and began dragging the SF's off the ramp.  The remainder kept their weapons trained on the gate.

Landry hit the selector switch, again.  "With respect, let me speak to Colonel Carter," he asked.

"Heed my words," the female voice intoned.  "No man may come to PelluciGor.  You are no longer ignorant.  You have been warned.  Death to all that follow!"

"Let me speak to Colonel Carter—to any of my officers," Landry demanded.

Abruptly, the wormhole disengaged.  At the same time, a second alarm sounded from the control console.  "Another unknown error, General," Harriman said.

"Get them back," Landry growled.

Harriman typed the P69-758 gate address into the computer.  The gate began to turn, then all the chevrons flashed red and another alarm sounded.  "The gate's not responding, General.  I'm running a diagnostic."  He tapped several keys, and a series of windows flashed on the monitor.  "It's not the dialing computer, General.  The gate's buffer is refusing the address."

"Whoever these people are," Landry said, "they know more about gate technology than we do... possibly more than the Goa'uld or the Tok'ra."  He put his hand on Harriman's shoulder.  "Walter, channel 431 just became your first priority.  Figure out how they got past the iris—and fix it.  Use every scientist on the base and at Area 51, if you need them.  Next time, they could send a bomb."

"Yes, sir," Harriman said.  "I just wish Colonel Carter were here," he continued, shaking his head.

"Because she's our greatest expert in gate technology?" Landry asked.

Harriman turned and looked up at the General.

Landry gave Harriman's shoulder a squeeze.  "Enough with the puppy-dog pout, Walter," he ordered, a smile softening the rebuke.  "It's not like it's the first time she's gone missing off-world.  We'll get Colonel Carter back—and Major Fraiser—and Lieutenant Hailey."

"Yes, sir," Harriman sighed, and began typing at his keyboard.

Down in the gate room, the medical team had arrived and was easing the now untied, but still unconscious, SF's onto gurneys, for transport to the SGC's hospital.

Landry turned and headed for his office.  "I have some phone calls to make," he said as he climbed the stairs.  "The stargate isn't our only option."

PELLUCIGOR
NEAR THE SWAMP

---

The ground was higher in the direction Sam and Janet had chosen.  They came to what could almost be called dry ground after only about a hundred meters.  Negotiating a thicket of brush, they entered a large clearing, looked up, and could finally confirm that they were still on P69-758.  The gas giant hung in the sky, and one of the system's twin suns were nearing the edge of its huge disk.

"We'll have half-eclipse in about three hours," Sam observed.

"Let me see if I have this right," Janet said, as they slogged along.  "Full-day means two suns in the sky, half-eclipse means one sun behind the gas giant, full eclipse means both suns, and night means... night?"

"Correct," Sam confirmed.  "The day-night cycle is—"

"About 36 hours," Janet interrupted, "and the eclipse cycle about 80.  I didn't sleep through the entire mission briefing.  The result is semi-random periods of light, half-light, and dark, varying from six to ten hours."

It's not 'semi-random'," Sam responded.  "There's a perfectly straightforward Fourier series that describes the pattern.  Take the integral from t-1 to t-2, where—"

Janet interrupted her with a raised hand.  "Ah-ah-ah!  No mental calculus!  I'm wet and filthy and don't need a headache on top of it all.  In any case..." she nodded at the sky, "...that celestial dance is going to play hell with our diurnal cycles."

"We'll adapt," Sam responded, then pointed ahead.  "Look!"

Through the trees across the clearing they could see a jagged rock face.  They continued forward and came to a jumble of loose rubble at the base of a very tall, very vertical cliff.  It was hundreds of meters in height, and stretched to either side, as far as they could see.

"I think we can climb a little higher over there," Sam said, nodding to the left.  They picked their way up the slope until they were above the treetops, then surveyed their surroundings.

The cliff formed a complete circle, several kilometers in diameter.  They were at the bottom of what was either an ancient impact crater or the caldera of an extinct volcano.  There didn't appear to be any breaks in the wall of the cliff, and the floor of the crater was a patchwork of swamp, forest, and small lakes.  Several small waterfalls poured into the crater from above, and in the distance, far beyond the clifftop, they could see the jagged peaks of a range of mountains.

"What you say to a shower?" Janet asked, pointing to the nearest waterfall.

"Good idea," Sam answered, lifting her muck-encrusted P90.  "I need to clean this thing before we meet more of whoever or whatever ambushed us back at the gate."

The waterfall fell into a pool of clear water surrounded by a grassy clearing.  The clearing, in turn, was surrounded by a forest of tall trees with gnarled branches.  Off to one side, the ruined remains of several large canopies hung from sagging ropes that stretched between the trees.  The material was chamois-like in appearance, varying in color from light tan to medium brown.  The jagged sheets fluttered in the breeze, like the ragged banners of some long-forgotten battle.

Janet reached up and tugged on one of the lower remnants.  "I think this stuff is synthetic," she said, "or chemically treated cloth.  It's not tanned leather, that's for sure, and it doesn't seem to be rotten or sun-damaged."

"Wind damage," Sam said, scanning the trees with the P90 at the ready.  "Years of wind damage.  Whoever rigged all this, I don't think they've been around for a very long time.   We'll do a recon, nonetheless."

A search of the area revealed no other signs of human habitation or visitation.  Several game trails led into the trees, and there were numerous sets of small animal tracks around the water; but they found nothing, other than the ruined canopies, to suggest the presence of anything large or intelligent.

Remaining alert, Sam and Janet cleaned the majority of the mud from their vests and gear with handfuls of leaves and grass, then removed their uniforms and boots.  Clad in only their military brown panties and bras, Sam stood guard with the P90 while Janet rinsed their clothing in the pool.  They used the survival cord from their vests to rig clotheslines on the side of the clearing with the most sunlight.  Soon, their now reasonably clean pants, shirts, T-shirts, boots, socks, vests, and web belts were hanging on the line or dangling from low branches.

Sam separated her survival knife and shelter-half from her gear, grabbed Janet's knife as well, and ambled back to the pool.  She spread the camouflaged shelter-half on the grass, like a picnic blanket, then broke down the P90 and laid out the pieces.  Working quickly, she used a swab from the cleaning kit to give everything a protective coating of oil, then reassembled the weapon and snapped in a fresh clip.  With the P90 ready at her side, Sam rinsed the knives and their leather sheathes, then used the still oily swab to carefully wipe down the keen edges of the blades.  She looked up, and smiled.

Janet was standing under the cascading water, using her fingers to scrub the last of the swamp from her hair.  The diminutive doctor removed her panties and bra and rinsed them under the stream as well.  She looked at Sam and grinned.  "This is great!  Cool, but not cold."  She tossed her balled-up underwear to Sam, then held out her hands.  "Gimme your skivvies!"

"What?" Sam asked, then dropped Janet's underwear on a corner of the shelter-half.  The sopping wad landed with a wet plop.

"Your panties and bra.  As long as you insist on standing guard against alien Dinocrocs and the like, and I get to be Interstellar Charwoman, I might as well do a good job.  C'mon, Sam, gimme.  That way everything will be dry at once."

"Can't argue with logic," Sam responded, stood, and stripped.  She tossed her muddy underwear to Janet, knelt and retrieved the P90, then watched as her friend rinsed her intimate garments clean, rubbing them together to dislodge any stubborn grime.

Dripping but clean, clad only in her dog tags and watch, Janet retrieved her underwear, then padded across the clearing and hung both sets on the clothesline.  She then strolled back to Sam.  "You're relieved," she said, and took possession of the P90.

Sam stepped into the pool and sloshed to the waterfall.   She scrubbed the mud from her feet and legs, torso, arms, shoulders, neck, and face; then, massaged her hair and scalp.  Finally, as clean as she could get without soap or shampoo, she emerged from under the splashing cascade.  Janet was watching the tree line and the cliff, weapon at the ready, slowly turning in a full circle.

The light had diminished, half-eclipse having passed some minutes earlier, but the light from the single, remaining sun was still several times brighter than the light of a full moon on earth.

Sam waded ashore, then began wiping the excess water from her limbs and body with her hands.  "Can I borrow your towel?" she asked.

Janet laughed.  "It's over by—"

"—I know—it's over by your pistol and my zat and cap."  Sam ran her fingers through her dripping hair, slicking it back.  "Actually, our towels are in our packs, lashed to a rack on the ATV back at the stargate.  We gotta start thinking about food."

Janet's expression was suddenly sober.  "Sam," she said, quietly, "if we don't get back—"

"—We'll get back!" Sam interrupted.

"If we don't get back," Janet continued, "Cassie will be all right, won't she?" Cassie was Janet's adopted daughter and Sam's chess buddy.

Sam smiled.  "Mama Fraiser" was just looking for reassurance.  "If we don't get back, General Landry will take care of her.  She'll start college next year, as planned, and life will go on."

"Without me... or you."  Janet's eyes were welling.

"None of that," Sam whispered, put her hands on her friend's shoulders, leaned forward, and kissed her forehead.

Janet's lips curled in a sheepish smile.  "I'm sorry," she whispered.  "I know I'm being silly.  I just had to hear it... out loud."

"I know," Sam answered, and took a step back. 

"Oh great," Janet muttered, using her left hand to brush away the water that had been transferred from Sam's still dripping body.  "Now I'm wet, again."

Sam laughed and took possession of the P90, then pointed at the knives and sheathes still drying on the shelter half.  "Keep your knife with you at all times," she ordered, "'til our stuff dries."

"Sam!" Janet said, a suddenly worried tone in voice, "what stuff?"

Sam followed Janet's wide-eyed gaze—then did a half turn and went down on one knee, P90 at the ready with the safety off.  Uniforms, underwear, vests, web gear—even the clotheslines—all of their clothing and equipment had vanished!