Flight, Digger One. We read you. We have lost control of the craft to some sort of hidden recall device that apparently the scum-sucking, slimy, snake-ass Apophis installed in his death gliders. Over.
Just so we're clear on this, sir, it's gonna be me, Teal'c and the great outdoors. That means no cellphones, fax machines, not another living soul for miles. We'll be unavailable, inaccessible.
If there's an emergency at the base, better plan ahead and tell me now. If Thor needs me, he's gonna have to beam me up. If it's the Tok'ra... forget it!
(in an Old Man's Voice) One enemy is easier to target than many. Our spies believe that Apophis has agreed to the meeting because he is willing to use such an alliance to topple the system lords. Afterwards, he will deal with Heru-Ur. If he succeeds...
Ah! Wait a minute! Just... stop, hold it. If you're about to say you're gonna explain along the way , I'm gonna lose it! I've just about had it with the way the Tok'ra do business. I wanna know EXACTLY what we're dealing with here. Every mission detail you've got right now, or we go nowhere!
Obviously, I'm gonna need Dr. Jackson, and there might be some complicated mathematical calculations to be done, Sam would be a big help, too. [Jack clears his throat] Of course, Colonel O'Neill is --- always fun to have around.
