Stargate SG-7

by Kitipurr

Summary: After the deaths by plague of SG7 on PX3-987 (S1 E14 "Singularity"), Jack O'Neill is tasked with the formation of a new SG-7.

ONE

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Come in, Jack."

Jack O'Neill took the chair his commanding officer indicated, settling back and clasping his hands on his stomach. It had been a long few weeks - well, a long year, really - and he was thoroughly enjoying the downtime his team had been given the last three days. Personally he thought they deserved some serious vacation time, but at the moment the brass wanted them available for additional debriefings. As if four in three days wasn't enough.

"Jack, I have a special assignment for you."

"Sir?" Jack raised an eyebrow as he watched his boss. Major General Hammond was making that face that usually said Jack wasn't going to be too thrilled with the coming request. "I thought we were being allowed to play hooky for a bit. I mean, we did just save the world and all. No big deal, would do it anytime, but still..."

"This isn't a team mission, Jack," the general said. "I need you to do something for me."

"Personal favor, sir? Just so you know, I don't do windows, dusting, or dry-cleaning."

"Not personal, exactly." Hammond furrowed his brow. "Jack, I need you to feel out a new SG team leader."

"We're forming another team?"

"Sort of," Hammond sighed. "I have orders to replace Team Seven."

Jack met the general's eyes solemnly. The former SG-7 team had been wiped out on PX3-987 after being exposed to a viral plague at the hands of the Goa'uld Nurrti several months ago. A memorial service had been held and the members laid to rest with high honors; most people had assumed that the team number would be essentially retired. Jack had known better, since the Air Force was hardly that emotional. He had known that someday there would be a new Team Seven; he just hadn't expected it to be so soon.

"That won't go over to well with the ranks," Jack said carefully. Not that he had a problem with voicing an objection when he felt strongly enough, but this was something he knew was inevitable; he just thought perhaps it was a little premature. "I don't suppose they've considered just adding another team number?"

"You know how the Pentagon works," Hammond said. "They would be under the assumption that because we have a team thirteen that there are in fact thirteen teams. And of course..."

"We can't have only thirteen teams that would be bad luck," Jack said, rolling his eyes.

"This isn't my call, Colonel," Hammond sighed. "I happen to think it's too soon myself, but Washington wants us back at a full contingent as soon as possible, and you know as well as I how hard it is to put a team together for this position. I have a stack of personnel files of people who have been suggested as team leaders, and you're the best man for sorting through them and determining who really should be considered for the job."

Jack cocked his head. He had suspected for a while now that he might get pressed into this particular service. "General, if you really want to trust me with this job, I already have someone in mind."

"You do?" The general leaned back in his chair, studying his man carefully. "Anyone I know?"

"Probably not, sir," Jack conceded. "Navy man, actually. Old friend from a few joint missions back in my glory days; saved his butt once or twice and vice versa, and we just clicked really well. He was a SEAL leader for a long time before he retired and moved to Arizona. He has a good sized ranch outside of Phoenix; raises horses I believe."

"And you think he'd be interested?"

"Chris always had a taste for the completely insane missions, sir," Jack grinned. "And let's face it, you have to be just a little bit on the crazy side to play this game." The general chuckled, which Jack took as a good sign so he continued. "Last I had heard from Chris was about two years ago, just after his wife and son were killed. Not long after that I went on the Abydos mission and sort of got distracted. About a year ago, right before Apophis showed up, I had run into an old friend of his, one of his SEALs, and heard Chris wasn't doing too well."

"And now?" Hammond asked. "I assume since you're suggesting the man that you've done some more recent research?"

"Well, based on the check I ran two weeks ago he's stopped getting arrested for drunk and disorderly," Jack said with a wince. Hammond would hear all the black marks at some point, so Jack figured he might as well tell all right up front. That way he could put his own spin on it. "He's no longer dropping a C-note a week at his local liquor stores and he's been paying his bills on time for almost six months now. So while he's probably still the surliest bastard this side of a wet tom cat with a bad case of mange in a cage full of hungry pit bulls, it sounds like he's pulled himself back together."

"Sounds like a prince," Hammond said wryly. "But if you think this is the man for the job, I'll leave it to you to make the first approach. Now, I know you've done this before, but I'll remind you anyway of the limitations of what you can tell him."

"Not to worry, sir, I remember the drill well."

"Alrighty then, I'll arrange for a plane to take you to Luke. I hope he's as good as you think he is."

"Well, if he's not it costs the Air Force nothing more than a quick trip to Arizona, right?"

+ + + + + + +

"Larabee, you old dog!"

"Who you calling old, O'Neill?"

The two men clasped hands in a firm shake before moving in for a 'manly' hug complete with a good deal of back pounding. Those around them in the bar saw nothing more than a reunion of old friends and for the most part ignored the men once they made their way to a booth at the back corner. A waitress took their orders for food and drink and retreated hastily, well aware that they wished to be left alone.

"So how have you been, Chris?" Jack asked cheerfully, folding his hands on the table. "You're a hard man to find."

"Can't be that hard if you found me," the blond replied chuckled. "Things are good, actually. Got a nice stretch of land, peace and quiet and all that, a small herd of horses that keeps me busy enough, but still plenty of time to watch the stars at night. What's up with you? Last I heard you were retired."

"Got offered a position that actually interested me," Jack replied. "Besides, men like us just aren't made for retirement."

"Speak for yourself," Chris said with a small smile. "So what brings you out this way?"

"Had an errand at the base outside Glendale," Jack shrugged. "Just figured I'd look you up, see how things were going." The older man studied his friend seriously for a moment. "So how are things really, Chris?"

Chris deliberated carefully. One of the things they had bonded over in the past was their family lives - both wives named Sara, both sons born within two years of each other. They also had the unfortunately experience of losing their families in common; Chris lost his family to a car accident while only Jack's son had been lost in death, but the similarities were enough for both men.

"It's... been rough," he conceded at last. "But you know that."

"Yeah," Jack sighed. They sat quietly for a moment before Jack added, "But you look like you're doing better."

"Getting there, I guess," Chris nodded. "Stopped getting shit-faced and in trouble every night, so I guess it's improvement." He toyed with the label on his beer. "Burned a few bridges in the meantime though. Managed to trash a few friendships I didn't think I could ever..."

He trailed off, and Jack frowned, wondering. "Care to share?"

Chris' smile was a bit sour. "Nah, what's done is done, right? Can't change the past and all that shit, so no point wallowing in it." He chuckled softly. "Funny how it took losing the person to get me to see the wisdom of their words."

Jack wasn't entirely sure he followed that last thought, but he'd long ago learned when it was time to change the subject. "So," he said carefully. "What have you been up to lately?"

Chris shrugged. "Not much besides the horses, really. Been soaking up the ambiance of retirement; sleeping late, catching up on my reading, remembering how much I like to cook. I have nearly perfected my Anitra con la Farsa, I'll have you know, and I can now make a mean paella that is guaranteed to burn a hole in your gut. And I just started playing with a chocolate flan recipe my mother sent me. I'm a busy man."

"So I see," Jack chuckled. "Done any star gazing lately?"

"Absolutely. Caught some great photos of that big asteroid burn-up a few weeks back. If you have the time you should come out to the ranch and see them - I'm damn proud of them."

"You ever thought about doing consulting with the military?"

Chris shook his head, smiling. "Nah, I don't think I could sit on the sidelines or behind a desk offering opinions that will just likely be ignored anyway. Besides, I suck at the political games, and even if I was any good I don't have the energy for them anymore." He cocked his head at his old friend. "Is that why you're paying me this mystery visit? Trying to con me back to work at some R and D program?"

"What makes you think that?"

"Last I heard there was very little action in studies in deep-space radar telemetry," Chris asked smugly. "Unless you're wandering around a corn field trying to find your little fallen failures."

The colonel quirked an eyebrow. "Checking up on me, Captain?"

"Jack, you don't seriously think I would get a call from you asking to 'do lunch' and not do a little research on your recent activities, do you?" Larabee smiled politely at the waitress as she delivered a couple of beers and a basket of nachos. "Come on, drop the small talk and spit out what you're here to propose before the food arrives. I don't need you ruining a perfectly good steak, especially when I'm not paying for it."

Jack O'Neill shook his head, chuckling. Larabee's bluntness was something he had always appreciated, more so than most of Larabee's colleagues ever had. Chris Larabee had been reprimanded more than any military man Jack knew without actually being disciplined or outright court-martialed for insubordination. That alone put him at the top of Jack's list of 'good people' and was one of the reasons he was sitting here.

"Alright, without going into details that... well, that I can't go into, I have a proposal for you. A job really."

"Not interested."

"Chris, you don't even know what it is."

Chris sighed. "Whatever it is, I'm not interested, Jack. When I retired I knew that was the end of it. I don't want to do R and D, and I don't want to fly a desk somewhere while watching a bunch of snot-nosed kids go off and have the adventures. I'm an action guy and you know it."

"And you're getting a lot of action on a ranch in West Bubafuck raising horses, are you?" Jack countered. Chris glared, but said nothing. "Chris, what if I told you it was something interesting enough to pull me out of retirement? Twice, no less?" Chris cocked his head and took a long swig on his beer, and Jack pounced on that teeniest of pauses. "Come on, Larabee, just give me a chance. Hey, I'm buying you a twenty-dollar steak, for crying out loud. Onion rings, even. Doesn't that deserve a few minutes with your ears open?"

Chris Larabee sat back and studied his old acquaintance carefully. There was no way Jack O'Neill hadn't done his homework; the man sitting across from him probably knew more about his life right now than he did himself. So exactly what was the man doing here? "Alright, O'Neill, I'll stop being a major pain in your ass if you'll stop tap-dancing and get to the point." He grinned as he speared a nacho into the salsa. "Food only goes so far, ya know."

Jack grinned. "Okay, here's the deal. I've been set in charge of setting up the leader of a new team to work in a very specialized project. It's part exploration and recon, part scientific study, part special defenses. Teams are being devised with a combination of science nerds and military staff, and my superiors have given me authorization to try to draft the people I think are right for the job as far as the military parts are concerned."

He took a swig of his beer before continuing. "Chris, you're one of the best in the business. You're a damn good leader; an exceptional strategist, and you're fast on your feet. You're also very smart book wise, at least enough to follow most of the scientific crap that goes on in this division, which is probably more than I can say for me."

"Don't start, Jack," Chris countered. "You've gotten very far by playing dumb, but I know you're not." He chuckled. "I believe you can even spell 'intelligentsia'."

"Aw, nothing like flattery," Jack grinned. "I won't shit you; yeah, I've got a few brains behind my beauty, but trust me. In this job I often look like the big dumb brother. My team has five masters and three PhD's between two of the three of them."

Chris whistled. "Okay, that's a little intimidating. And they're on a recon team?"

Jack nodded. "This is like nothing you have ever been involved in, nothing you could even imagine being involved in."

"And you want me to re-up and play nice with the kiddies?"

"Yup. I'm looking for a military team leader who I think can handle being in charge of a team that has to work more as a group than a military unit. Sometimes the leaders call the shots, sometimes it's the geek squad doing it."

"The scientists leading the team? That's a little unusual."

"This whole thing is unusual, but yeah, there have been times when I'm just not the right person to make the big decisions."

Chris frowned. "I gotta tell ya, you're very good at saying a lot without saying anything, Jack. So far you've done a striptease without taking off so much as a glove. You plan to get to the pasties anytime soon?"

"Unfortunately there's only so much I can tell you without breaking protocol." Jack sighed in frustration. "Damn, this is always so fucking complicated. Do you know how hard it is to try to recruit someone for a classified project without actually divulging any details?"

Chris chuckled. "I recall that from time to time. Luckily I usually was recruiting people I knew would follow me into hell in the dark if I asked, without caring why."

"Yeah, well I don't have it that easy," Jack groused. "You, however, would. If you opt to join, you would be able to pick and chose your team. Mind you, everyone drafted has to pass an extremely high clearance level. But since it's obvious to my superiors that every team has to function smoothly, the leaders are given significant leeway in selecting the members. It's vital that there be minimal personality clashes within the unit." He grimaced slightly. "Between units is another story, but that's for another time."

Chris chuckled. In the military it was not unheard of for the members of a single team to become practically part of each other, and for different teams to go at each other like cats and dogs. "So, you're trying to recruit me to lead a specialized team for a top secret project of scientific research missions, and I get to pick my own people. Within parameters."

"Pretty much."

"And it's vital for the team to be cohesive because..."

"Because what we do, where we go, is often volatile and very dangerous."

"Scientifically."

Jack gave Chris a withering look. Larabee was enjoying this way too much. "Come on, give me a break here."

"Jack, you still haven't actually told me anything that would indicate what we would be doing."

"That's because... I just... I can't. Really. Not beyond what I've already said."

"Which is nothing."

Jack slouched, thankful that the waitress appeared at that moment with their food. Chris savored the moment, his hazel eyes twinkling over his beer bottle. When the waitress left again, Chris decided to cut his old friend some slack.

"I don't suppose if I say I'll take things under consideration that will get me any further information."

"Probably not," Jack replied. "Look, you're already set with some pretty high clearances. I'll check with my superiors, see if there's a shot in hell you can get the grand tour without having already signed up."

Chris raised a sandy brow. "Really? That would be pretty out of the norm, wouldn't it?"

"I want you, Chris. You're one of the best. You'd be perfect for this assignment, and I promise, you won't regret it. This is the opportunity of a lifetime. Of five lifetimes. I sometimes act flippant about it, but this is the most important thing I could be doing with the time I have for my life." Jack leveled his eyes at Chris, all seriousness. "Trust me Chris, you join us and you will never, EVER regret it."

Chris studied O'Neill's face carefully. The man seemed absolutely sincere, which really was more than enough to convince him to consider whatever this was. Still, he hated to agree to anything while essentially blindfolded. "Tell you what," he said. "Ask about the pre-sign-up tour and see what happens. If they say no, I promise to think about it anyway. Deal?"

"Works for me," Jack said solemnly, but inside he was grinning madly. Chris Larabee agreeing to think about it anything was almost as good as a 'yes'.

"So," he changed the subject cheerfully. "Watch the Army-Navy game last week?"

He wasn't quite fast enough to duck the flying French fries.

+ + + + + + +

"Interesting place to meet," the man said as his companion slid into the seat next to him. "Not that I'm complaining; mind you. I'm always willing to enjoy the offerings of a place this expensive when someone else is buying."

"Don't get carried away," the companion snapped back. "This club is expensive enough that we aren't likely to be spotted by any low-level people, and any upper level people who might wander in will know better than to ask any questions. Assuming they know who I am in the first place."

"Let me guess, the assumption that you could be just having lunch with a friend is probably out of the question," the first man grinned. "Considering your cheery disposition and all."

The second man gave a mock smile and fiddled with his fork as the waiter appeared with menus. The two men listened to the day's specials and gave their orders, waiting to continue their discussion until the waiter had moved away. The first man, younger with thick auburn curls, leaned back and surveyed his 'friend'. The other man was slightly older than himself and decidedly softer in face and form, as well as probably an inch shorter. He had a receding line of mouse-brown hair above two brown beady-looking eyes, and quite frankly looked just a tad dopey.

Go figure, he worked for an Intelligence division.

"So. What exactly are you looking to hire me to do?"

"Straight to the point," the older man said. "I can appreciate that. Alright, then, Seymour. There's this military installation in Colorado; my department needs to gain access to their computer systems without them knowing we have it."

"Aren't you military?"

"Yes, but this installation is the epitome of top secret. That's part of the problem - they're so secret that they've managed to convince the president and joint chiefs that they don't have to share the information they're collecting with the intelligence division. We're concerned they're gaining perhaps too much power that, if gone unchecked, could lead to a coup within the government. The people of the United States could be at risk."

Seymour leaned back with a chuckled. "Bullshit, Maybourne. They've got some toy you've been denied the ability to play with, haven't they?" Maybourne pursed his lips and Seymour shook his head. "Look, I don't care what they're doing or why you want me to break in and do whatever you want. You pay me enough money and don't screw with me on the details, and I'll get done whatever you want done. But your information on how to get in and out better be damn good, because if I get caught don't think I won't rat you out in a heartbeat to save my own neck."

"You assume you know enough about me that I should be worried," the government man said smugly.

"Harold Reginald Maybourne, Colonel in the United States Air Force. Born May 3, 1958, in Seattle, Washington, to Amos Michael Maybourne and Margaret Lillian Devonshire. You have two older brothers if you don't count your mother's two stillborns and one miscarriage, and a younger sister who hates your guts after you let her take the fall in high school for damage you caused to your father's car. You suck at poker and pool but you tell everyone that you're good at both, you've moved up the ranks of the military because you're a slimy little worm who knows which butt to kiss and which palm to grease, and you just happen to be very good with computers and subterfuge, but have a deplorable lack of morality according to your great-aunt Louise O'Brien of Oyster Bay, Long Island. You are allergic to crawfish but strangely not lobster or shrimp, you prefer cats to dogs even though you own two Yorkshire-Dachshund mixes - named Ernie and Bert, although Bert is a female. You prefer to write with an Onyx Rollerball pen, and you are particular to blue. You have a thing for Kathleen Turner, hate the Simpsons - mostly because you don't get most of the jokes - and one of your life-long dreams is to learn to do a flawless Elvis Presley impersonation." Seymour smiled sweetly. "Shall I go on?"

Maybourne narrowed his eyes. "I think I get the point."

"I hope so," Seymour said with a sudden turn of seriousness. "I will concede that you're an exceptional sneak and spy, but I'm a damn lot better. That's why you're hiring me and more than willing to pay my positively outrageous fee."

"That, and I need someone who's not connected with the government or military in any way," Maybourne admitted grudgingly. "Don't worry; if you've done your homework this well you know I honor my bargains."

"When you have to," Seymour nodded. "Alright then, let me see the schematics of this place you want me to break into, and then we can discuss how much this is going to cost you."

"No, price first."

"Get real, Maybourne. My starting cost for anything you'd want me to do, right down from making a run to the deli, is one million flat. The real price will depend entirely on how impossible your little plan is."

+ + + + + + +

Hammond watched as Colonel O'Neill paced the length of the briefing room. He had planned to meet their potential new team leader himself at the airport, but there had been the whole thing with Carter being possessed by a Goa'uld and go figure, it just had not been feasible. Major Wainwright, second-in-commend of Team Eight had been sent, advised to treat Chris Larabee with kid gloves and serious respect but to offer no information on the project. Jack had assured the general that Larabee wouldn't ask - Chris was the sort of man who got told things without asking - but that had only made Hammond reinforce his orders.

"I must reiterate that this is all highly irregular, Jack," the older man said, more to break the unnerving silence than because of a need to converse. Jack already knew his superior was less than happy with the special request, and Hammond had had to pull quite a few strings to get it approved. Luckily for everyone involved Larabee held a Medal of Honor, earned in the course of saving the life of a relative of the current president - second cousin or something - and thus the brass were inclined to approve his visitation.

"It's not a gamble, sir, I promise," Jack said, rather distractedly. "Once he sees what we're doing, he'll jump at the chance to join us."

"I just wish I could be certain of that," Hammond sighed. "Or that he's even right for the job."

"You've read his jacket, General. Chris Larabee has seen more and done more than most men twice his age. He's got a shoulder full of medals and a reputation for success that withstands scrutiny."

"He's also got a reputation as a cowboy," Hammond countered, not really arguing but happy that Jack had at least stopped pacing. "Based on my inquiries I'd say the man has barely avoided serious reprimand on dozens of occasions."

"And I managed to pull an Air Medal out of a court martial offense," Jack snapped, a little more edge in his voice than he probably intended. Hammond held the man's eye evenly, and Jack eventually conceded, "Okay, so saving the world might have helped with that a little."

"Jack, I'm not knocking the man. The fact that you have so much respect for him alone is enough for me to take the risk. I just would have preferred if we could have done things a little differently."

"I know, sir," Jack sighed. "Believe me, if I could have convinced him any other way I would have. But Chris has had enough covert ops experience on shaky Intel to be unwilling to jump in blind if he can avoid it, and I respect him too much to insist if I can get around it."

At that moment the room's phone rang, music to the general's ears. If he survived this interview without adding an ulcer it would be a miracle. Hammond took the call with relief, hanging up to find Jack trying not to look like he was hovering. "They've arrived and are on the way down."

Jack breathed out heavily. Showtime.

Now where the hell was Daniel?

+ + + + + + +

Chris refrained from sighing on the elevator ride down. His interest was beyond peaked after the trip from the airport with the nervous major who was trying far too hard to maintain pointless small talk, and then the security checks which exceeded anything he had ever been through - why on earth did they require an MRI and an ultrasound of his stomach and spine just to get entrance to the base? Add to that the fact that he was currently dropping twenty-eight levels (according to Major Nervous) to the bowels of a supposedly decommissioned missile silo... well, under his stern and stony expression, Chris was positively giddy with curiosity.

The doors opened to what appeared to be a complex maze of tube-like corridors through which Chris followed his escort at a brisk clip. He was rather surprised that, while many of the people he passed nodded to him or saluted in deference to the insignia on his uniform and the medals on his shoulder, they regarded him with open - if relatively muted - hostility and suspicion. What kind of work were these people doing that outsiders were so clearly mistrusted?

Major Nervous stepped up to open a door and saluted as he moved to let Chris pass. The blond strode into a conference room and grinned at the sight of Jack O'Neill in full dress blues. "Didn't know you could clean up so good," he jabbed as Jack shook his hand heartily.

"Me? You're the farm hand these days."

"Ranch hand, Jack; ranch hand." Chris glanced at the man in general's stars. "If a man who can't tell a pedigree stallion from a plow mule is being entrusted with the defense of this country, I may well have to reconsider this offer."

Jack chuckled. "You have no idea, Chris." He turned toward his superior. "Major General George Hammond, meet Captain Chris Larabee, United States Navy." He turned back to Chris. "General Hammond is the king under the mountain, as it were."

"Honor to meet you, sir." Chris took the general's hand in a firm grip, slightly surprised at the solid grasp that was returned. Hammond looked a bit out of shape - not surprising for someone who'd been flying a desk for quite some time - but the man still had muscle in his hand shake.

"Glad to have you with us, Captain," Hammond said. "I know you told Jack you hadn't made up your mind yet, but I'm sure after we show you around the job we've been doing here, you'll see there is no more important work on the planet."

"I have to admit, I am thoroughly intrigued," Chris said as he took the seat he was gestured to and accepted a cup of coffee that Jack offered. "The amount of security around here and the extreme clearance blocks... hell, I called in just about every marker I have in military, government and shadow circles and nobody could give me any idea of what you folks are really up to. As far as anyone can confirm, you're doing the satellite research you claim to be doing, but I've never seen any R and D site this blacked out."

Hammond chuckled, apparently not offended that Chris had been checking them out. "When you've been shown around a bit, you'll understand the need for all the precautions." He settled into his own chair, acknowledging the coffee Jack set in front of him. "Now, I was hoping we wouldn't have to start without our resident specialist on the project, but Doctor Jackson seems to be missing in action at the moment."

"Probably got distracted by some sort of ancient and fascinating whatsimajiggey," Jack said in a stage whisper. "Toss him the least important clay pot fragment from some remote sand dune and the kid loses all track of time."

"I called down to his office just after I received word you'd arrived," Hammond told Chris. He was about to say something else when the door was wrenched open and a tall young man in a rumpled suit and brown tweed jacket rushed in, polishing his glasses absently. Behind him followed a fetching blonde woman in dress blues and captain's bars, looking mildly entertained.

"I am SO sorry," the young man gushed to Jack and the General. "I just got wrapped up in the translation of the scrolls we just brought back from Nassya and I was just getting into the second passage and there's this whole section on the history of..."

"Breathe, kid," Jack cut the young man off, chuckling. Chris glanced around the room and saw nothing but patient amusement on the faces of the Air Force personnel.

"Sorry," the 'kid' muttered, slipping into the seat next to Jack as the General introduced him.

"Captain Larabee, this is Doctor Daniel Jackson. Doctor Jackson, Captain Chris Larabee."

"Navy, right?" Jackson asked as Chris nodded a greeting across the table. "The only branch of the military where the rank of Captain is a sixth-level officer rather than a three, equal to the level of Colonel in the Army, Air Force and Marines. And their Lieutenant is the level of the others' Captain, and..."

"Daniel is easily fascinated," Jack interrupted affectionately. "Of course, the fact that we would actually KNOW all this stuff is hardly a deterrent from his lecturing us on it."

"And speaking of captains, this is our Captain Samantha Carter," the general continued, with the put-upon patience of a father waiting to hand the kids back to his wife. "Captain Carter is Jack's second-in-command."

Chris regarded the blonde carefully. She certainly was beautiful, even if she looked a tad pale at the moment, but her eyes and easy manner indicated a woman who was very sure of herself in more than a few ways. He had a feeling this lady might actually be able to take him in a fair unarmed fight. Maybe in an unfair one too. He offered her a smile and a nod.

"Pleased to meet you, Captain. The colonel has told me a lot about you." Carter cocked her head with a twinkle. "Don't worry, I didn't believe a word of it."

"She never does," Jack sighed.

"I thought you said your team had four," Chris stated more than asked. He noted how the eyes of his hosts flicked toward each other before the general replied.

"Their fourth member is in the infirmary at the moment," the older man said; rather carefully, Jack thought. "We had an incident over the last few days and he's assisting our medical people with a few things by serving as a guinea pig. You'll meet him later, I promise."

It didn't escape Chris that the fourth member's name had not been given.

"Captain Larabee, what you are about to be told and shown is, as I'm sure Colonel O'Neill has told you, highly confidential. I have been assured that, should you decide you do not wish to participate, you will maintain complete silence regarding everything you are to become privy today."

"I understand, sir, and am prepared to sign any confidentiality clause required," Chris nodded. "Trust me, General, if I'm not interested, I'll have probably forgotten all about this by next week."

The people around the table smiled or chuckled, causing Chris to wonder just what he was about to learn. He watched as the general looked to Doctor Jackson.

"Captain Larabee," Jackson began, and Chris could almost see the man's winding up for the big pitch. "To understand exactly what we do here, you first need a little background information. For example, it is important to understand that the pyramids around the world - Egypt, Mexico, South America - they were built by aliens as opposed to the long-time belief that they were built by the people of our world. Those pyramids are in fact the landing platforms for the spaceships of an alien race who once ruled over our world."

"That race is called the Goa'uld," Sam continued. "For years they passed themselves off as the gods the people of our world worshipped - mostly the Egyptian gods, but also the Mayan gods and those of the Greek and Roman empires, among others."

"We have a research team specifically working on links between all the various cultural mythologies so we can determine all of the possible gods they may have impersonated," Daniel said.

"But there was an uprising here on Earth and the so-called gods were overthrown by the humans and kicked their ugly butts right off this world," Jack gloated.

"Wait a minute; gods?" Chris asked, blinking. "Are you saying you guys - a military operation - are spending lots of government money under top-secret blackout regulations to study mythology that is actually the history of little green men?"

Daniel chuckled and held up his hands, stopping both Jack and Sam from starting to speak. "Guys, I think we're skipping around a bit," he said. "Captain Larabee, let me start from the beginning in brief. In nineteen twenty-eight, Professor Abram Langford led an archeological exhibition in the Giza plateau that discovered a fourteen-foot-tall ring made of a metallic material such as had never before been seen on Earth. For the next sixty-eight years Professor Langford - and then his daughter Doctor Catherine Langford - worked intermittently in conjunction with the United States military researching the symbols on the ring, as well as on a set of cover stones which were covered with carvings."

"About two years ago, Doctor Langford hired Daniel to work on the project translating the picture-thingies," Jack continued the narrative.

"Cartouches," Daniel said with put-upon patience.

"Whatever," Jack sighed. "Anyway, so Danny took three weeks to figure out what Catherine's team hadn't figured out for two years."

"Which is that the ring is called a Stargate," Daniel said firmly. "And it was two weeks, actually."

"Whatever," Jack groused. "Anyway, that's why I was originally called in. The Air Force had been put in charge of the project, so the then-commander of the division, General West, brought me in. The idea was to perform a standard recon, assess any threat that might exist on the other side, and take appropriate action."

"If only it was that simple," Daniel sighed.

"Wait a minute," Chris said, shaking his head. "Other side of what, exactly?"

"The Stargate," Daniel replied.

"Which is the big metal ring."

"Right."

Chris blinked. "I'm missing something."

For the first time in a while, Hammond spoke up. "People, as usual you've gotten so excited in your recitation of the history of SG activities that you've skipped explaining exactly what the Stargate does."

"Oh!" Carter said, laughing. "Sorry, Captain, we sometimes get ahead of ourselves. A Stargate is a device which creates an artificial wormhole through space-time. It's technology of alien origin and design that really is a very advanced form of interplanetary travel."

"Interplanetary?" Chris asked slowly. This was a little hard to wrap his head around. He had thought he was just being polite to an old friend and anticipating a boring lecture on their work with satellite research. Were they really talking about travel to other worlds?

"We've personally visited twenty-five different worlds at this point," Carter beamed. "That's not counting worlds the other SG teams have been to."

She glanced to the general, who smoothly assisted. "I believe the current count is a total of fifty-three new worlds. Right now there are only twelve teams on the roster; teams one through six have been our standard first-contact recon teams, while seven on have been designated return teams for research and further study."

"However, that doesn't mean that your team would necessarily be one or the other," Jack perked up, knowing Chris would be less interested if he thought he might end up with just a 'homework' team. "A few recent experiences by some of the units have encouraged us to reorganize the teams so they can be capable of either capacity if the situation arises." Chris' nod said this had been the right thing to mention.

"Okay, so just to confirm that I didn't get slipped something funny in my Wheaties this morning, let me recap. You all spend your days going to other planets." He glanced around carefully. "As in... not Earth."

"As in not Earth," Jack chuckled. "I know it's a little hard to wrap your head around at first, but it's true. Honest Injun." He held up his hand in an old salute that had become a pact swear between them and their sons so long ago. Chris smiled fondly, knowing Jack wouldn't use it if he wasn't being one-hundred percent truthful.

"So... what do you do, exactly?"

+ + + + + + +

Jack chuckled. Chris was hooked. He probably wouldn't admit it for a while yet, but the man wouldn't even bother asking what they did unless he was sold on the job. For all he probably cared they could be trading beads with the natives; he wanted in.

Jack listened as Sam and Daniel started to expound on some of their exploits as examples of what Chris might expect. Daniel was in his typical faster-than-light lecturing mode, complete with all the hand gestures and occasional stutters that were his norm. Sam, however, was less than her usual self. Oh, she was engaging and charming and just as informative as always, but Jack could tell she was forcing it rather than just being her naturally cheerful self. Her recent experience being possessed by Jolinar of Malkshur was still wearing on her, something that had Jack a little worried. But so far she seemed to be putting on the brave face, and Jack was happy enough with that effort.

Wouldn't stop him from keeping an eye on her.

Most of the stories being told by Jack's teammates were their less-stressful experiences... not that that was saying much. It didn't escape Jack how the Abydos story - both their original expedition and the return trip - were covered in less-than-full description, something Chris probably suspected from the squint of his nose. Daniel's wife was not mentioned at all, and Skaara barely at all. The pair skipped to their experiences on Simarka pretty quickly, preferring apparently to show how they had improved the lives of the women of the Shavadai, and then to their adventures on Argos. Jack noticed they didn't hesitate to talk - in great detail - about the affects of the Goa'uld aging 'disease' as far as his experiences were concerned... or how he managed to contract it.

They expounded on meeting the crystal entities from P3X-562 though they didn't go into the details that involved Jack's family, and they discussed the important discoveries found on Heliopolis. Daniel spun an enthralling tale regarding his experiences with the Oannes, which was easier for them all now that it was a few months in history, and Carter regaled the Navy man with the discovery of the second gate in Antarctic (glossing just a tad over the 'how we nearly died' part). Together the two reveled in the telling about Harlan's world and their robotic duplicates - a story the two scientists still found far more fascinating than he did, even if he wasn't the one of him who had been forced to stay behind.

Chris seemed thoroughly engrossed in the stories, but Jack was still able to see the man's mind calculating carefully behind his eyes. Part of him was analyzing each tale and determining if things were being carefully edited, and where those edits might be occurring. Chris wouldn't be easily diverted from getting the full truth.

"You certainly have been busy," the blond said carefully when the pair paused for breath. "But I suspect everything you've experienced isn't exactly the wine-and-roses picture you're painting me here." The guilty looks on Daniel and Sam's faces had Jack and the General smothering smiles. "I suspect there have been a few not-quite-happy endings as well, right? Why don't you tell me about a few of the thorns in this little garden?"

"Uh, well," Daniel stuttered. "Um, I've died... once or twice."

Jack coughed down his chuckle - trust Daniel to go from the really good to the really lousy without segue. "But, you know, he got over it."

"I can see that," Chris smiled saltily.

"We won't lie to you, Captain," the General said firmly. "We've lost some good people along the way. Unfortunately, as I'm sure you deduced from the extremely abbreviated version of the Abydos missions, there are some real dangers out there in the universe. In fact, if you agree to this position, you'll be the first man on a complete replacement team. The original team seven suffered total casualties a few months ago, may they rest in peace."

Hammond looked to Daniel, giving a small nod for the man to get on with it. Truth time, people.

"The main threat is the Goa'uld," Daniel said reluctantly. "They're a parasitic race..."

"Little wormy-looking nasties that burrow into a human's head and take over the body," Jack clarified, his bluntness obviously annoying his teammate, but Daniel continued without comment.

"The Goa'uld appear to have been around for thousands, maybe hundreds of thousands of years. Their MO is to overpower and enslave less-evolved races and use them as slaves to suit their purposes. They were, in fact, the race that built the pyramids in Egypt, as opposed to the currently accepted belief that they were built by the pharaohs. The pyramids, it turns out, were built to be landing structures for the Goa'uld's spaceships."

Sam continued, "The Goa'uld found that human bodies are easy to invade and easy to maintain in good health for long periods of time. Many of the Goa'uld-infested bodies we've encountered appear to have lived for hundreds of years. Of course, if the human host body does eventually wear out the Goa'uld can simply move on to another host body."

"Which means even if the human form is only a few years old, the critter inside the body could be thousands of years old," Chris said.

"Exactly," Sam nodded, happy that Chris was following. "According to a temple on Abydos which contained the history of that people, Ra was the first Goa'uld to come to Earth and discover humans. He then kidnapped a large number of humans from this world and transplanted them to Abydos so that they could mine the mineral which makes the Stargate."

"Naquadah," Jack interjected. "The Goa'uld seek it the same way the Spanish conquistadors sought gold."

Daniel nodded. "When the people of Earth revolted against Ra and buried the Stargate here, Ra forbade reading and writing on Abydos so that the same thing wouldn't happen there. The people would never find out he wasn't a god after all, like we did here."

"Until we showed up," Jack gloated.

"However, since then we've discovered that Ra, and other Goa'ulds, transplanted humans from Earth to any number of planets," Sam said. "The people of Simarka appear to have been from the Earth cultures of ancient Mongolia, while the people of Cimmeria share their ancestors with our modern Norwegians."

"The Argosians were probably kidnapped from ancient Greece," Daniel added. "I suspect that there might be thousands of worlds populated with descendants from Earth, and thousands more that have life that originated either there or elsewhere in the Universe. We've encountered at least fifteen other species - some more human than others - that are not descendants of Earth."

"This is all fascinating, but let's get back to the original question," Chris said. "So these Goa'uld... by the way, what's the correct way to say that? The three of you each seem to be saying it differently."

"The correct pronunciation is 'goe-ah-oold'," Sam said with a smile, flicking her eyes mischievously at her team leader. "Some people seem to have a bit of difficulty saying it properly."

Chris chuckled. "Okay, so these 'goe-ah-oold'," he said, lingering over the syllables as Jack stuck his tongue out at him. "They're the main bad guys in the universe, is that it?"

"God, let's hope so," Jack muttered darkly.

"As far as we can tell at the moment," Sam said more diplomatically. "While it appears that the Asgards have visited Earth in the past - numerous times, perhaps - and we know of several species that could be considered hostile, the Goa'uld are the only ones who seem to have the technological capabilities to be an immediate threat."

"The Jaffa are a human-looking race that serve as guards and servants of the Goa'uld," Daniel said. "The Goa'uld have mutated them so that they can be used as living incubators for their larva."

"Nice," Chris grunted.

"We also encountered a member of a race called Unas," Jack added. "Ugly big toad-looking things that were used by the Goa'uld as hosts before they discovered humans make better houses."

"We've only encountered one of those so far, but we aren't counting out the possibility that there are more out there," Sam said.

"And what about the Asgard?" Chris asked. "You said they've visited Earth?"

"We haven't actually met any of them yet," Sam answered. "But we left a greeting box with the people of Cimmeria in the hopes they will pass it on to one of the Asgards at some point. We're hoping the Asgards will choose to aid us in our fight against the Goa'uld."

"What about some of the other species you've encountered? Or the other human cultures?"

"Most of the other human cultures we've encountered so far have been less developed than we are," Daniel addressed Chris' question. "We've made some good friends, but none that have anything to really offer us to defend against the Goa'uld. The cultures and species we have encountered who are more advanced have been rather reluctant to share their technologies with us."

"We're too young," Jack said sourly. He still thought that was a tad bit harsh. On the other hand, it was still better than the Tollans calling them 'primitive'.

"We're hoping to prove ourselves worthy of friendship with the Nox," Sam said. "They seemed appreciative of our efforts to help the Tollans when their planet was destroyed."

"Even if the Tollan themselves didn't," Jack grumbled.

"Not all of the Tollan were ungrateful," Sam countered.

"Just the leader of their merry little band," Jack shot back.

"We have also made a few friends among the Jaffa," Daniel said, ignoring the tit-for-tat of his teammates.

"I thought you said they were in league with the bad guys," Chris frowned.

"The Jaffa are essentially enslaved to the Goa'uld," Daniel said. "The mutation that allows them to host the infant Goa'ulds also compromises their immune systems to the point where they cannot live without the symbiote. If the symbiote is removed and not replaced with another, the Jaffa dies."

"This has led to the development of a small number of rebels among their people," Sam said. "Jaffa who recognize that the Goa'uld are not the gods they have always been taught they are, and who are working covertly to undermine the Goa'uld System Lords from within their guard ranks."

Jack glanced at Sam, wondering if she would chose to bring up the Tok'ra; however, it was obvious by the way she averted her eyes and squirmed slightly that she was still not ready to talk about her most recent 'unique' experience. When Daniel spoke up, he couldn't decide if he was happy or not.

"Um, we also recently learned that there may be a small group among the Goa'uld themselves that are organizing against the System Lords," the linguist said. "They call themselves the Tok'ra. We have met only one so far, but we have good reason to expect there are more out there somewhere."

"Interesting," Chris murmured.

"Keep in mind we've been actively using the Stargate for only a year now," Sam said, apparently taking Chris' tone for disbelief or criticism of some sort. "We're still pretty new at this."

"So what happened recently that you're reorganizing your team structures?" Chris asked, looking directly at the general. "I assume there was some defining moment that led to that decision?"

The room grew silent for a moment as the general pursed his lips. "Jack tells me you're something of an amateur astronomer." Chris nodded. "Do you remember that big asteroid burn-up in the night sky a few weeks ago? That wasn't an asteroid, Captain."

"They were two Goa'uld ships crashing together and exploding in orbit around Earth," Jack said. "The Goa'uld System Lord Apophis was mounting an attack on Earth. We got damn lucky and were able to stop it by causing his ship and the ship being run by... another Goa'uld under him to fly into each other. Big boom, and we get to be heroes."

"Colonel O'Neill is simplifying it," Hammond said. "More than a bit, really, but I suppose that's enough to know at the moment. It is a fairly complex story in the long run."

"Yeah, there's stupid politicians, funky mirrors, alternate dimensions, court martial offenses, new weapons and toys, skin-of-our-teeth escapes, and another one of Daniel's many near-death experiences," Jack shrugged. "I'll tell you the whole long story some time over penicillin cocktails when we're both recovering from some alien-inflicted puncture wound. Trust me, it's a good one."

"Sounds like it," Chris replied. He glanced around the room at each person, and Jack noted the expectant looks on his friend's faces. He wondered idly if he had a similar expression.

"Any other questions?" Jack asked.

Chris shook his head. "Not sure I would even know what to ask. This is all out of left field. Maybe even out of the parking lot." He shook himself. "Okay, let me just see if I followed this whole thing. Once upon a time a big round metal ring was found in Egypt, and this ring is a transport device between planets. And you're looking for me to sign on as the head of one of these teams who go through this ring to other worlds to... what exactly?"

"Explore, meet different cultures," Daniel said. "Some of the research we do can give us insight into not only our world and past, but how cultures evolve both here and on the other worlds."

"Collect information about the science of the universe," Sam added. "We've learned of new elements, new medicines..."

"Attempt to procure new weapons and technologies to use in the fight against the Goa'uld," Jack finished. "Now that you know what we do and the nature of the work, you understand why this is so important. You also understand why we're trying to make all the teams a good mix of scientists and military. You're one of the best military field leaders I know, Chris, but you're also capable of working with the academics."

"Captain, we're offering you a chance to participate in the most extraordinary work anyone can do," Hammond said, his tone obviously saying it was sink or swim time. "What we do, without being melodramatic, could very well hold the fate of the world in the balance at any given moment."

"Like I said the other day, Chris," Jack grinned. "This is the big one; this is the job that guys like us dream of. And we want you for that job."

"You'll have the right to hand-pick your team," Hammond said. "Of course any choices will need to have proper clearance first, but we've got a significant pool of candidates to chose from, some already cleared and others who can be quickly enough. We've concluded that our teams function best when they work as a well-oiled clock, and with the special circumstances that can arise from so many complex types on the same team, it takes a delicate touch to balance those personalities."

Chris chuckled and shook his head. "Enough, General, I'm sold. Where do I sign up?"

TWO

The tour of the SGC lasted most of the afternoon, with Jack and Sam escorting Chris through the labs, lockers, study rooms and research facilities. Jack allowed Sam to do most of the talking, seeing how she could actually explain in detail what was going on in the labs, while he had saved his comments for the 'big adventure' stories on where some of the things came from and how. They showed the naval officer the collections of artifacts that had recently been brought back from various planets and introduced him to the scientists and support staff who populated the facilities under Cheyenne Mountain. Despite his many years of experience with government set-ups, Chris was still blown away by the extent and diversity of the operation.

They arrived at the library rooms around three o'clock to find Daniel embroiled in a rather hot debate with another man. Chris was surprised to see the archeologist, who had been so enthusiastically subdued in the meeting room, arguing passionately with a short pudgy man who all but screamed 'bachelor-at-fifty-nerd'. The room contained three other people as well - one lanky brunette in fatigues, another short pudgy nerdlet-in-training, and a bulky-looking man with graying blond hair and mustache in a rather eclectic ensemble of khaki parachute pants, black long-sleeved shirt under a loose colorful poncho, and a pair of 'Jesus' sandals to match the wood-bead rosary that hung from his neck.

"Budge was an idiot!" Jackson was declaring as they collected in the doorway. "Translating based on his work is about as useful as washing dishes in a mud puddle!"

"Look Jackson, I've been doing this a lot longer than you," the older man huffed, his eyes glittering angrily. "You may be the General's little darling just because Jack O'Neill's willing to cover your ass, but don't try to tell me how to do my job."

"Isn't your job to attempt to translate the tablets correctly?" the rosary-wearer asked. "And since Doctor Jackson has been proven right on at least two dozen occasions in the past year and in fact lived for a year before that among a people who actually spoke the same language which Budge had no practical experience with, I would have thought you might have realized that Doctor Jackson's notes on the dialect would be far more accurate than anything Budge might have theorized."

"This coming from the world's oldest hippy-priest," the bachelor-nerd hissed. "David and I were making great headway before you showed up and..."

"Started pointing out that you weren't doing it right?" the 'priest' replied cheerfully. "Sorry to spoil your fun. I just thought perhaps you'd like to earn your paycheck for a change rather than waste the collective time of the entire base by doing it wrong, so we can redo all your work later. I do apologize if I was mistaken."

It was at this point that Jack apparently decided that, as much fun as it was to watch geeks cat fight, he'd better stop it before either bachelor nerd or Daniel ruptured something. "Gentlemen, do I need to call you to your corners?"

Everyone in the room - except the hippy-priest, Chris noticed - looked up in surprise. The priest just grinned at him and leaned back in his chair, looking almost like he might have been sunbathing rather than watching an argument. "Just a little healthy debate, Colonel," the man replied. "Nothing like it to get your blood going."

"Or cause a little blood flowing," Daniel grumbled under his breath, glaring at the bachelor nerd. "Markinson here has decided that he knows better than anyone else and rather than following the guidelines he was given to translate the Nassyan scrolls he would use Budge's works as a point of reference."

"Who's Budge?" Chris asked lightly, hoping it would divert Jackson's vehemence a little - the man looked like he was about to dissect the bachelor nerd for study under glass.

"Ernest Alfred Thompson Wallis Budge," Sam began. "He was an archeologist and linguist..."

"Moron," Daniel interjected.

"... who was the curator of Egyptian and Assyrian Antiquities at the British Museum from 1894 to 1924," the priest continued.

"Moron," Daniel said again.

"Budge is known for translating the Papyrus of Ani," Markinson said with an air of 'I know more than you do' that had Chris gritting his teeth.

"Badly," Daniel muttered darkly.

"Daniel has essentially proven just about everything Budge ever wrote either completely wrong or at least grossly misled," the priest said. "Yet for some reason some people who should know better still insist on using him as a reference point."

"Moron," Daniel said a third time, and this time it was obvious he wasn't referring to Budge. Chris couldn't help but chuckle at Markinson's beat-red expression.

"The man was knighted," Markinson snapped.

"So was Andrew Lloyd Webber," Daniel retorted. "And Bernard Ingram, who was a press secretary, and Matthew Stanley who was a freakin' soccer player! Apparently a knighthood isn't so hard to come by since Victoria's day."

"Markinson, if Doctor Jackson gives you a set of guidelines to work from, next time you might consider using them," Sam chided the dumpy scientist. "Doctor Jackson has actually lived what you have only read in books, and you would be wise to pay attention to him if you have plans to keep your job."

"They won't fire me," Markinson challenged. "I'm one of the top scientists in field and I know all about the Stargate program."

"You're right," Jack shrugged. "You won't be fired. You'll just be detained indefinitely as a threat to this country and very likely the world, contained until you can be determined to be no longer a danger."

"Which, considering how the military works," Chris said, leaning against the door frame nonchalantly, "means you'll probably be released in forty or fifty years."

Markinson paled slightly, but also flushed at the sound of a soft chuckle behind him. Chris caught sight of the priest jiggling slightly in his chair, trying to contain his laughter.

"You don't need to be so smug, Sanchez," Markinson growled. Turning to collect a few things off the table, he glared at Jackson for a moment before stalking out silently. The other science nerd - David, Chris assumed - paused briefly before scurrying out after him. Once both men were gone, the tension lessened dramatically.

"Sorry, sir," the female airman said to Jackson. "I know he's a prick, but I'd still have been court-martialed if I had actually ripped his arms off."

"I know," Jackson sighed. "Thanks for stepping in anyway. Your presence probably kept ME from ripping his arms off. And while I can't exactly be court-martialed, I somehow think they'd at least have restricted my coffee intake for a while, maybe sent me to my room without supper."

"Don't forget no TV for a week," Carter grinned.

"If you don't mind, sirs, I was on my way to the showers when I overheard the argument, and I'd really like to continue that plan," the officer said, mostly to Jack. "I was throw-wrestling Teal'c for Doctor Fraiser's stress tests, and I smell a little like sweaty Jaffa."

"More than I needed to know, Ames," Jack said, waving a hand in front of his face. "Dismissed, run along, and all that stuff."

"Thank you, sir." Ames saluted her superiors, including a calculated look at Chris, before slipping out the door.

"Thanks, Josiah," Jackson was saying to the priest. "It's nice to have someone else put The Weasel in his place for a change."

"Always happy to help," Josiah said with a welcoming nod. "This the new kid on the block?"

"Very perceptive," Sam chuckled. "Captain Chris Larabee, this is Doctor Josiah Sanchez, linguistics and anthropology."

"Another double PhD?" Chris asked. "Like Doctor Jackson?"

"Not really," Josiah shrugged. "He's archeology, I'm anthropology."

"What's the difference?"

"Dead people verses living," Jack said cheerfully

Daniel sighed patiently. "Not exactly. Archeology is the scientific study of material remains of past human life and activities - buildings, artifacts - while anthropology is the study of the people specifically - the social structures, the behaviors and rituals, culture, physical character, and so on."

"Dead people verses living," Jack repeated.

"Well, technically I do both the living and the dead," Josiah chuckled. "Daniel has a Masters in anthro verses his PhD in archeology. I'm the other way around." The older scientist looked fondly at Doctor Jackson. "Of course, it only took me twice as long to get there."

"Doctor Sanchez is being a bit modest," Jackson said. "It took him twice as long to get his PhDs because he was too busy applying his knowledge, as well as becoming an expert in the intricacies of nearly a dozen religions."

"Thus the priest thing," Sanchez said.

"Most doctorates who achieve the level of study and the number of degrees Daniel and Josiah have do most of it in a library or university, with very limited field work," Carter explained. "Josiah has done almost five times as much field work in his studies as most other PhDs."

Josiah shrugged. "I like people better than books."

Chris nodded; he could relate.

"Josiah's one of the few scientists in the community who didn't treat me like a pariah for my 'outlandish theories'," Jackson told Chris, the emphasis telling Chris this was a bit of a sore subject.

"Unfortunately, I myself have always been considered a bit of a lunatic," Josiah said, shaking his head. "So I'm afraid that support didn't mean a lot."

"Meant a lot to me," Jackson said firmly. "Knowing there was at least one person who thought I might be on to something... well, it was everything. Even if at the time I thought he might be a total crackpot."

"Coming from the community's leading crackpot, I'll take that as a compliment!" Sanchez laughed, his deep baritone rumbling in a way that made Chris like him even more.

"Well, now that everyone's back in their corner, why don't we continue the tour?" Jack suggested. He tipped his head and Chris followed him into the hall.

"Colonel, I'm going to go talk to General Hammond about Markinson before this happens again," Sam said. "Daniel doesn't need this, and it undermines the atmosphere of the whole lab."

"Have at it, then," Jack nodded. Sam nodded to Chris politely before disappearing up the hall.

"Sam is unofficially the head of the research labs," Jack said as he guided Chris up the hallway. "Since she's on my field team, she can't be the official head; nerd territorial instincts are apparently very intense. But, since she's been working on the Stargate longer than anyone else here, Hammond tends to defer to her opinions on things and everyone knows it."

"Carter's the longest? But I thought Daniel was the person who translated the original tablets."

"He did, but Sam was working on the science of the gate itself for a few years prior to that."

"That must have stung a little."

"She was less bothered that someone else made the thing work than she was that she didn't get to go through it the first time. Probably why Hammond insisted on sending her with on the second mission - he'd have never heard the end of it otherwise."

"I take it she was capable enough, or you would have insisted on her being taken off your team," Chris commented as they turned a corner.

Jack grinned. "Oh, she's capable enough. In one of our very first missions she kicked the ass of a Mongol warrior, which if I wasn't convinced of her capabilities as a fighter before then pretty much sealed the deal. Of course, she proved she was smarter than me just by walking into the briefing room, but..."

"That doesn't take much?" Chris asked innocently.

Jack scowled. "I was going to say 'typical of a scientist."

"You know, it's funny, Jack," Chris said as Jack led them into the cafeteria. "The last thing I ever pictured of you was a guy who was willing... or even able... to work this closely with scientists."

"Yeah, well, Daniel and Sam are a little unusual for scientists," Jack defended. "Sam's a good soldier who just happens to be big-brained."

"And Daniel?"

"He's..." Jack smiled fondly. "Give me a few more years and he might even be a normal guy. I mean, you should see this guy watch a baseball game! He spends the whole time discussing the socio-political symbolism of hitting a ball with a bat! It's just wrong!"

They stepped up to the serving line as Jack continued to expound on Daniel's weirdness, but the undercurrent of the conversation was clear; Jack adored the young scientist. Chris smiled, knowing what Jack must have felt when he lost his son. Somehow, Daniel had stepped in to fill the void Charlie's death had left - someone for Jack to teach about the simpler things in life, someone for him to look after and care about. Daniel might be more little brother than son, but what mattered was that he had filled a space in Jack's life that desperately needed filling.

For that Chris was glad.

And a touch envious.

+ + + + + + +

The thief studied Maybourne's information carefully, frowning. At least now he understood why they couldn't just hack into the computer systems from the outside: the base had its own private network completely unrelated to any outside systems. They did have internet connections on a limited number of computers, but those computers were not on the same network as any of the internal computers. Whatever sort of work was going on here, the only way to get hold of any of it was to physically go inside the base.

And Cheyenne Mountain was one of the most secured facilities Ezra Standish had ever come upon.

As he read through the schematics and blueprints of the mountain, he couldn't help but feel a little nervous about this. Yes, he was the best in the business and had a resume that included even breaking into the White House and the Pentagon once upon a time, but this job was going to be different. He could feel it in his bones.

He was most particularly puzzled by some of the labels on the schematics. It wasn't unusual for military plans to be labeled in code, but this code confounded him. What he believed he understood of the code indicated numerous staff quarters and barracks, weapons lockers and storage rooms, laboratories, offices and briefing rooms. However, if he was reading this right, there were also libraries, artifact rooms, a sizable infirmary, and something called a 'gate room'. What sort of military research involved artifacts and book research, and could apparently be dangerous enough - in the middle of the Colorado Mountains - to require facilities to house numerable injured persons?

And what the hell was a 'gate room'?

Ezra started making notes, committing all the information to memory before attempting to start the formulation of a strategy. This was going to be particularly tricky.

Best to have several backup plans.

+ + + + + + +

It had been nearly a week since Chris' first official day on the job, and he still hadn't gotten used to the food in this place. Given, base food in any military branch was notorious for being lousy, but at least usually he could recognize it.

"So, have you thought about your choices for your team?" Jack asked over his coffee as he watched Chris trying to figure out what the Meat of the Day was. "Just eat it, Larabee, you don't want to know anyway."

"It's at least from this planet, right?" Chris asked suspiciously, prodding the gravy-covered item next to his soupy-looking potatoes. "Yeah, I've been thinking on it. Hammond gave me a list of suggestions for positions to be filled, and my new desk contains nothing but a handful of pencils and a stack of personnel files."

"Just remember, this will be your new family."

"I know. Kinda like a SEAL team, I suppose."

"Pretty much." Jack sat back and studied Chris intently. "What about Buck Wilmington?"

Chris glanced up, a mix of annoyance and regret flashing in his eyes. For a moment Jack though the man planned to say something barbed, but instead he just dropped his eyes back to the meat. "He wouldn't be interested."

Jack frowned. "Not interested? Are we talking about the same guy? Yay-tall, gangly, usually wears an obnoxious walrusy cookie duster on his lip and - to quote my ex-wife - 'is sexier than James Dean and Pierce Brosnan squished into a Robert Redford suit'?"

Chris sighed. "Remember when I said I burned some bridges?"

"Wilmington?" Jack asked, incredulous. "The man with more loyalty than a basset hound? I didn't think that was possible. Well, unless..." Jack narrowed his eyes, focusing on Chris who did a very good job of avoiding his friend's gaze. "Chris, you didn't hack anything off, did you?"

"No, I didn't hack anything off," Chris snorted, keeping his eyes down. "But I might as well have. After Sarah and Adam..."

Chris trailed off and Jack sighed. The older man knew all too well what kind of destructive behavior could come from grief. His own grief had brought about the implosion of his marriage; of course, it had also led him to where he was today.

"Chris, you know I know what you've been through. We didn't go through exactly the same things, but the results were about the same. What you don't know is that I almost gave up completely. When they came to reactivate me from leave I was actually sitting on my son's bed with a gun in my hand, considering putting a few teeth marks on the barrel." Chris looked up sharply, only his eyes betraying surprise. "I was that bad, Chris. In fact, it was why I got called in for the Stargate mission; they wanted someone suicidal, who wouldn't care whether he came back or not. That was me. So desperate to die - or at least uninteresting in living - that I was willing to put myself at ground zero of a nuclear explosion."

Chris shook his head, and Jack knew what he was likely thinking. Jack was certain if Chris ever said he had attempted to kill himself, Jack wouldn't believe it either. It wasn't the sort of men they were. Yet Jack still had nightmares that relived those moments in Charlie's room with the gun sitting comfortably in his palm, and he suspected that somewhere in the nights after his family's death Chris had done something very similar in nature. And yet, neither of them had accomplished it.

Jack knew why he hadn't; General West's offer had given him the chance to accomplish what he had been afraid to do for himself. And then Daniel and the kids on Abydos had given him a reason not to do it at all. Certainly Chris had had similar support or likely he would have accomplished the job. After all, Chris had always been more efficient than Jack anyway.

And if Jack knew Chris, that support had come in the form of a tall lanky man from Kansas City, Missouri.

"Look, Chris, I'm not telling you what to do here, but you and Buck were friends and teammates long before I met you. He was your SIC for six years, the best man at your wedding and godfather to your son. And more important than any of those things, he was your best friend from the day you met. Isn't that how you introduced him to me?" Chris paused long before nodding reluctantly. "I don't care what you said or what you did. There is no way Buck Wilmington considers that bridge burned." Jack let a small grin grace his face. "Maybe in need of a few repairs, a little paint..."

Chris chuckled wryly and Jack felt a little relief at the sound. This Chris was not the Chris he knew from before; the Chris he had known before was eternally young and wild, fun-loving and eager, and only at the very end was he also the military man with discipline and responsibility. That Chris had been fast with a smile, faster with a friendly hug or a brotherly shoulder, and as open as a book. But at least the chuckle was a sign of promise.

Jack had seen Chris at the funeral for his family, a few months before his own son's accident. Not surprisingly, the man had been devastated and sullen, angry at the world and at himself. The fact that the explosion was being pursued by the police as suspicious circumstances didn't help much. But then Charlie had died and Jack had been busy doing his own grieving and lost track of his friend. It was only after the encounter with the energy beings from P3X-562, the one that had given him the opportunity to see his son one more time, that he had really thought to look Larabee up again. That idea was encouraged when he ran into now-Lieutenant Commander Sean Carmenetti, who was in Colorado skiing with his new wife. Carmenetti had been a member of Chris Larabee's SEAL team back in the day and had kept in touch with Chris' old SIC; it was Carmenetti who had relayed to Jack the sad state of his former commanding officer's life.

Jack had thought to get in touch with Chris back then, but as people tend to do he had allowed time to pass while he was occupied with other things. It was only after his near-death experience in Antarctica that he had thought of it again and decided he really was going to do it, and he'd made a few quiet inquiries. It had been encouraging to hear Chris was doing better, and Jack had thought perhaps it was time to look the man up in person.

Of course, saving the world had interfered with that plan, but then Hammond had given him a very good reason.

"Why don't you give him a call?" Jack suggested lightly, blowing on his coffee. "Worst that happens is he says no. Can't hurt to try, right?"

Chris shrugged and continued to poke at his food, silent, but Jack could practically hear the thoughts screaming in the man's head. It could hurt a hell of a lot.

+ + + + + + +

Buck Wilmington stood at the corner of the bar, wondering if this was a smart idea. Then again, he didn't tend to think when it came to Chris Larabee, he just reacted. Which was likely the exact reason he was here now - Chris Larabee called and he came running.

Well, maybe that was being a bit harsh.

Perhaps it was guilt that had led him here. After the deaths of Sarah and Adam Larabee, Buck had tried so hard to be the good friend that Chris needed. He had known Chris since they were teenagers, been his second-in-command, his best man and his best friend, and after the funeral he had been as strong as he knew how to be for the man whose world had come crashing down in a single instant. He had weathered over a year of Chris' attempts to kill himself through drinking, fighting, and generally misusing himself, and Buck had never thought about it twice. He had even taken a long leave from the service, with their reporting admiral's approval, to spend his time holding Chris' head over toilets and driving him to the hospital for stitches.

He had gone with Chris when the man retired his command and moved to the ranch he had inherited from his aunt out in the Arizona desert. He had repaired the dilapidated old ranch house on the property while Chris was sleeping off his hangovers and he had even found a way to make the place profitable with minimal resources and staff by getting the place registered as a federal tree farm. For a month he had to pay a large staff to plant desert-friendly trees on forty percent of the land, but once that was done he only had to keep a handful of people on to maintain the trees. The federal subsidies paid for the staff as well as any equipment, while also providing enough money for household expenses.

And finally, when he could no longer weather Chris' verbal and physical abuse, Buck had hired a couple to live in the guesthouse and serve as housekeeper and handyman, as well as keeping an eye on his old friend.

It had taken a lot to get to that point. One too many punches, one two many vicious words while in a drunken fury, but finally Buck had reached his breaking point. He loved Chris too much to watch him continue to try to kill himself, and he had finally come to realize there was nothing he could do to change the direction Chris was headed. So when the call came from an old commanding officer, offering him a consultant's position at a SEAL training facility, he had taken it reluctantly.

That had been a little over six months ago. For six months he had been living and working in Annapolis, trying not to wonder when he would receive the call that would have him attending the funeral of his oldest friend. Instead, it had been that friend who had called, asking him to meet him for drinks. Saying he had something he needed to discuss.

So here he was.

The bar was fairly upscale, not the kind of joint Buck had come to associate with Chris. This place was bright, cheery, the kind of place where perky coeds and preppies in nice sweaters met for Cosmos and Pink Squirrels over mozzarella sticks. Chris was more a dark, grungy, smells-like-stale-beer place where the floor was littered with pretzels and used napkins. The kind of place where the bartender didn't have a clue what a cocktail was and the fanciest thing served was a gin-and-tonic with a twist.

Buck watched as the door opened and another couple entered - two young men in business suits with fashionable-yet-conservative ties and briefcases that indicated they had just come from work. Probably some finance-related job, Buck thought. Or maybe lawyers. Buck hated lawyers.

"Checking out your competition, stud?"

Buck turned, surprised. He had been here an hour and had his eye on the entrance the whole time. So either Chris had gotten here even earlier, or...

"Snuck in the back," Chris said, answering the unspoken question. Buck had to smile; figured Larabee would know what he was thinking.

"So, not watching me then," Buck chuckled. "Good to know."

The two men considered each other carefully for a moment before Buck finally cracked a wide grin. "Chris," he said warmly, stepping up to give his old friend a big hug. "How you doing, you old war dog!" Chris returned the hug fiercely, almost relieved, Buck noticed, which only made Buck tighten his hold. "God, it's been a long time."

"Too long," Chris said, pulling back to look Buck over. "You look good, Wilmington."

"You too, Chris," Buck said, feeling a lump form as he looked Chris over. The blond really did look good; had gained some weight, looked clean and groomed, and the eyes were clear and bright. Not the look of a man who was coming off a long bender at all; very encouraging.

"Yeah, I've finally got my head out of my ass." Chris handed a twenty to the bartender for two beers.

"No thanks to me," Buck muttered as he moved to a nearby table. Chris took up the opposite chair, eyeing Buck closely. Eyes Buck wasn't willing to meet.

"No thanks to you?" Chris asked. "All thanks to you, Buck. You kept me out of the morgue."

"How do you figure?" Buck asked, looking up. Chris was looking at him, just as puzzled as Buck felt.

"Buck, for over a year that I mostly don't remember, you kept me out of trouble in a way I didn't deserve. If it were anyone else, they'd have left me to rot in jail after the first bar brawl. Or they'd have let me drown in my own vomit, which I well deserved."

"You were suffering," Buck retorted. "What kind of friend would hold that against you?"

"Pretty much anybody but you," Chris sighed. "Buck, I was a drunk and a jackass. I abused you as much as I did myself. You became my babysitter when you should have been focusing on your career and your own life. If you hadn't taken the time off to look after a selfish heartless bastard you'd have had a command of your own, rather than be playing teacher."

Buck cocked his head. "Been doing your homework?"

Chris shook his head, smiling wryly. "If only I could claim to be so smart. Believe it or not, you owe this visit to Jack O'Neill."

"O'Neill? That Air Force guy we paired up with in Iraq a few times?"

"Yup. He's a colonel now, working at Cheyenne Mountain."

"And he's checking up on me?" Buck frowned. "Why?"

"He offered me a job with his current assignment."

Buck's eyes widened. "Seriously? Get out! That's great! You take it?"

"As a matter of fact, I did," Chris grinned, taking a long swig of his beer. "After making them sweat for it, but yeah, I took it."

"Good for you," Buck said. "Anything you can talk about?"

"Not exactly, but there is one thing I can say." Chris sobered, clasping his hands on the table. "Look, Buck, I know after all the shit I gave you, you're probably not even remotely interested in working with me, but Jack wants me to make you an offer."

Buck stared at Chris. The man looked more nervous than Buck could ever remember him, even on his wedding day. Chris Larabee was a man who faced fear head on and didn't blink. But yet here, now, the man was just short of sweating. At the idea of asking Buck Wilmington to work with him.

"I'll have to give the academy at least two weeks notice, you know."

Chris looked up, barely concealing his shock.

"You don't even know what's involved."

Buck grinned. "Hell, Chris, you oughta know me better than that by now. Wherever you are, whatever you're doing, it's gotta be more fun than anything I could be doing on my own."

Chris stared for a moment, then smiled wide.

+ + + + + + +

Jack was in the lab with Daniel going over their notes from the Hadante mission. Daniel was still considerably disturbed that he hadn't pegged Linea as a threat, and even more so that they had helped her escape the prison world. As a result the linguist was throwing himself into his work like a man possessed, trying to find redemption in the translation of some archaic tablet that SG4 had brought back with them from P3X-111. Jack had taken it upon himself to keep his friend company whether the younger man wanted it or not, making sure Daniel ate and slept as often as Jack could convince him to do it. It wasn't the easiest job to give himself - Daniel Jackson could be annoyingly fixated when he wanted to be - but it was better than anything else he could be doing, and Daniel did need a babysitter.

So he was playing idly with some old stone something-or-other when Chris Larabee arrived with Buck Wilmington.

"Jack, there you are," Chris said easily. "You remember Commander Wilmington."

"Hey! Sure, yeah. Take it he's signed on to your squad?"

"Yep," Buck responded. "Gotta tell ya, O'Neill, I always said I'd follow Chris to the ends of the earth if he asked, but can't say I ever thought I might be asked to leave the earth."

"General Hammond gave him a Cliff Notes version," Chris grinned. "A little less colorful than the version I got, but just as entertaining."

"Yeah, well, the general doesn't have Daniel's storytelling abilities," Jack chuckled. "Daniel Jackson, this is Commander Buck Wilmington, US Navy. He's going to be Larabee's second-in-command. Buck, this is Daniel Jackson, archeologist and linguist; he's on my team."

"The guy who figured out how to make the star-thingy work," Buck nodded, stepping forward to shake Daniel's hand. "Good to meet you, Jackson. Sounds like you're the go-to guy for crossword puzzles."

Jack and Chris both choked as Daniel grinned. "Well, depends on the language it's in, but I could probably help in a pinch."

"Well, seeing how I usually do mine in English and you seem to speak that one pretty good, I'll call you up when I'm stumped for a seven letter word for a substance obtained from the salivary glands of leeches."

"Hirudin," Daniel replied easily. "Used as an anticoagulant."

"See?" Chris laughed. "I told you he'd know it." Buck smiled as he pulled a news page from his pocket and snagged the pen in his shirt pocket to scribble quickly while Daniel spelled.

"So, giving Buck the grand tour?"

"Yep, we've covered most of the base," Chris said. "Was just looking for you, actually. We were going to head down to the cafeteria and were looking for reinforcements." Chris turned to Buck. "Very dangerous, not a place to venture into without backup."

"Ah, and today it's Mexican," Jack nodded wisely. "Best to go in groups and carry many weapons."

"You guys go ahead," Daniel said, turning back to his tablets. "I want to finish work on this section."

"Which is going to take you how long, exactly?" Jack asked, his patience tried. "Daniel, you haven't eaten since eight this morning, and it's going on two. And your breakfast was a bagel. A BAD bagel."

"I'm fine, Jack," Daniel replied, his attention already back on the stones. "I'll eat when I'm hungry."

"Which means you'll eat when you actually remember to realize your ARE hungry," Jack sighed. He turned to the new arrivals. "Larabee, take right please."

Chris nodded and moved to latch onto Daniel's right arm. Jack moved at the same time to attach to the left, and the two men hoisted the linguist away from his table.

"Hey!"

"Daniel, as your superior office, I am ordering you to take a break," Jack announced.

"Jack, you can't order me - I'm not in the military!"

"Okay, so how about the old 'you're outnumbered and we're bigger than you' argument?"

"Uh, he's actually about the same size as Chris," Buck said cheerfully. "But Chris and I could trade places I suppose."

"Jack!"

"Come on, Danny-boy. Don't make me sic Carter on you."

The group moved down the hall until they reached the cafeteria, at which point the smell of food had gotten to Daniel's nose - and brain and stomach - and he had stopped arguing. Of course, the incredibly loud rumbles of his stomach probably helped. It also didn't hurt that Buck had managed to ask the right questions to start Daniel off on a lecture about the origin of the Stargate.

They arrived at the mess at the same time as SG-9, and Jack saw the moment that Buck's attention was diverted; that is, the moment he laid eyes on SG-9's fetching Marion Rodgers, a tall muscular army lieutenant who served as the research team's communications technician. Even Daniel had to smile as the gangly commander drifted instantly to the woman's presence.

"Well hello there, darlin'," Buck was cooing to the lieutenant, who eyed him with wariness and a touch of irritation. "Buck Wilmington, new to the base. How about you give me the grand tour, hm?"

Jack shook his head as Rodgers apparently debated whether to flirt back or drop the man in his tracks. "Lieutenant Rodgers, Captain Brennan, Lieutenant Dorn, this is Commander Buck Wilmington; former Navy SEAL and second-in-command of the new team seven. This is Captain Larabee, Navy, who will be heading up the team."

"Nice to meet you, Captain," Dorn said on behalf of his team as hands were shook all around. "You've got some mighty big shoes to fill, you know."

"So I've heard," Chris said solemnly. "I hope we're up to the task."

"Maybe you'd be willing to give a guy a few pointers," Buck said to Rodgers as he held her hand tightly. "Take pity on a poor Navy man so far from the water?"

"If you were a SEAL I doubt you need any help," Rodgers said, eyeing him warily. "Besides, I'm army, would hate to have people think I was betraying my team to the enemy."

"Aw, now, you could just tell them you're teaching me the error of my way," Buck said, guiding the woman into the cafeteria as her teammates watch in surprise. "For instance, I hear this room is one of the most dangerous on the whole base. Maybe you could offer your expert advice on the safest way to proceed?"

The man kept up a soft chatter, saying something the rest didn't hear but which made Rodgers laugh outright and relax visibly. The couple moved toward the chow line as the men left behind watched in amazement.

"Did that just happen?" Brennan asked in awe. "Did a man just sweet-talk the Rottweiller?"

"That's Buck for you," Chris chuckled. "The man could sweet-talk the devil into giving up fire for Lent. You get used to it after a while."

The members of SG-9 moved off with Daniel to get in line while Jack and Chris watched Wilmington taking Rodgers' food tray in hand. "He's still got it, huh? Never ceases to amaze me."

"It's his true calling," Chris sighed. "If the universe was truly fair, courtesans would be revered and Buck would be the king of them all."

"He still pursues everything in a skirt?"

"Skirt, pants, muumuus... he's a menace, but you gotta love him." Chris sighed, watching the retreating form. "Think he stands a chance with Captain Carter?"

Jack shrugged. "Nah. Carter only dates people with an IQ bigger than hers. Which is pretty much... Daniel. And he's oblivious. Might have luck with Doc Fraiser though."

"Doctor?"

"Janet Fraiser, one of our resident physicians. Head of our medical staff." Jack held his hand up to his waist. "About yay high, pert and perky as all get out, cute as a bug's ear. Kind of frightening to mortal man, but I could see her taking a shine to Buck in that 'you annoy me but I like it' way."

"Nah," Chris chuckled. "Buck gets nervous around female doctors. Says he doesn't like that they know more about his anatomy than he does before they've even given him a physical."

The two laughed as they watched Buck carry the two food trays to a nearby table and then insist on pulling out the lady's chair to seat her, to the lieutenant's smug delight and her comrade's amazement. Good old Buck, Jack thought. Things would certainly be more interesting with him around.

+ + + + + + +

"Oops! Sorry," the young man said breathlessly, looking up at the man he had just plowed into head-on. "Um, sorry, Major. Wasn't watching where I was going. Really, sorry."

"It's okay, Airman... Dunne," the major said firmly, glancing at the boy's name strip. "Just keep your eyes a little more up from now on."

"Sir, yes sir," the boy nodded, shifting his armful of materials so that he could salute his senior officer. The boy was relieved when the major smiled kindly, green eyes twinkling and dimples showing. "You're new here, sir? I don't remember seeing you before."

"New enough," the major nodded. "I'm standing in for the liaison to the Senate appropriations committee; he came down with the flu at the last minute."

"Do you need a guide? These tunnels can get a bit confusing."

"No thank you, Airman, I'm familiar with the layout. Been here a year ago, can't imagine things have changed that much."

"No sir," Dunne nodded brightly. "Well, if you need anything, I'm just down the hall here in the computer core running a test simulation on the effects of solar flares on the wormholes."

"Sounds interesting," the major smiled. "I may stop in later for a briefing, if you're not to busy."

"Never for a superior officer, sir!"

"Well, move along then, Airman Dunne, and prepare to impress me!" Dunne saluted again and scurried off. The major shook his head and sighed as he continued his way up the hall.

With luck, all the personnel he ran into would be so easily deterred from questioning his presence.

+ + + + + + +

Chris sighed as he tossed aside the latest jacket on a brilliant up-and-coming military so-and-so who could be considered ready to join an SGC team. Chris had gone on one short mission with SG-4 just to get his bearings on Stargate travel and ended up in a surprise firefight with a small Jaffa contingent on an out-of-the-way planet that was supposed to have been abandoned by the Goa'uld a few hundred years back, and had had all his notions on what he was getting into completely challenged. What exactly was different he couldn't exactly say - after all, it was a firefight with a ferocious enemy, nothing new about that. Aside from the staff weapons, anyway. And the gate travel.

Perhaps it had been the planet's four pink moons, five-footed dog-like species and kelly-green sky that had royally fucked with his head.

Whatever, he had a new understanding of the kind of emotional and psychological make-up was required to make a good gate traveler, and it made him very glad that Jack had talked him into calling on Buck. Buck Wilmington had the ability to take the weird and the unexplained and the totally unexpected without blinking, and that was just the kind of man he wanted at his side on this adventure.

Now he just needed two more.

Not that he was required to have four. Hammond had made that quite clear from the start; if he wanted to go it with six or seven that was fine, and even three would likely be accepted so long as there was a proper balance. However, Hammond had indicated that four or five seemed to be the preferred minimum, and Chris had agreed after a little thought on the subject. Buck could be a diplomat if called upon, despite his 'good ol' boy' demeanor, and he had a lot of knowledge in a variety of subjects - explosives, engineering, tactical, reconnaissance, and survival just to name a few - so he could be priceless in the right situations. So what Chris really needed what a brain - someone to be the Daniel to his and Buck's Jack. Chris had studied Jack's team with admiration, and the General had quietly confided that he thought Team One had the best military-to-educational balance of all the other teams.

But all the brains being offered to him were wishy-washy geeks with the survival skills of a newborn puppy in an alligator swamp.

"You look like a man with a quandary," a deep voice rumbled. Chris looked up from the table he had commandeered in the corner of the mess to find Doctor Sanchez looking down at him in amusement. He glanced around and had to chuckle - the table looked like a file cabinet had exploded.

"Personnel files of possible team members," Chris sighed, waving the linguist into a chair. "Bunch of babies who haven't even seen front line duty at a political protest yet, much less real war actions. Not sure I like the idea of having them watching my six."

"I hear you," Sanchez nodded, slipping into the seat with a surprising grace for a man of his bulk, causing Chris to take a closer look at the man. Sanchez was dressed in loose sweatpants and a comfortable tee which showed off more muscle than Chris had expected to be under the poncho. "Need some help? I've been around here for a while, I might know some of the candidates more than on paper."

"Won't say no," Chris said. "I'm not even sure I know what I'm looking for exactly."

"Well, what have you been looking for up to this point?"

Chris frowned. "I need a scientist. I've already got me and Buck."

"Wilmington, right?"

"Met him?"

"Oh, indeed," the big man smiled. "Not a man you forget easily."

"No, he's not," Chris grinned. "Between the two of us we've got the military aspect pretty well covered, so I need someone to help with the exploration part of it all. Someone good with languages would be nice."

"Hm." Sanchez thumbed through the jackets loosely before pulling one out. "Gerard Peterson; I've worked with him once or twice. Has several masters in various languages."

"Can he handle himself in the field?"

Josiah shrugged. "Kid's a scholar at heart, but you could probably whip him into shape pretty quick." Josiah caught Chris' skeptical look and sighed. "Well, maybe not real quick. But hey, not every scientist can be Stallone too. If you're looking for a Daniel Jackson, the pool is pretty shallow."

"Yeah, I'm getting that." Chris tossed Peterson's jacket in the reject pile. "Next. How about someone who has both a brain and has seen some combat?"

"Hm, not too many of those," Sanchez said. "Honestly, the only ones I can think of are Ronald Jurgens, Lashayna Walshan and myself."

Chris felt his interest rise. "You've seen action?"

Sanchez shrugged. "Was in the marines for ten years; made sergeant before I decided to go back to school. It's been a long time."

"You look like you're still in good shape," Chris commented.

"I work out," Josiah said cheerfully. "Wouldn't do to spend all my days sitting around getting fat, would it?"

"So let me get this straight. You were in the Marines, you have two doctorates and three masters, you are an expert in several religions, you run around dressed like a hippy and have a reputation as a crackpot. Any chance you can also bake a cake and are a black belt in some obscure martial art?"

"Well," Sanchez said, pondering the question carefully. "Can't bake a cake, but I make a decent chili."

Chris waited for a punch line for a second before he realized that he wasn't going to get one. He studied the man carefully, watching the clear grey eyes studying him back. It only took a moment to make up his mind.

"Doctor Sanchez, have you ever considered joining a field team?"

+ + + + + + +

Buck had taken up haunting the computer labs in an attempt to make time with Lieutenant Rodgers, who was currently doing simulations on the weather patterns on P6N-493, part of their preparations for their next mission. In the process he had managed to pocket the phone numbers of at least a dozen female base staff and made strides with a few others. In less than a week the Wilmington Charm was already an SGC legend, and the team leader of SG-12 had even suggested that should they ever encounter a planet populated by male-hating Amazons they could just send in Commander Wilmington and an alliance treaty would surely be signed in short order.

Today, however, his attempts to woo the lovely lieutenant had been thwarted by a call from the elusive Captain Carter. Buck had heard much about the blonde astrophysicist but he had yet to actually meet the woman, and now she was calling away his current intended conquest to work on the dialing computer's back-up systems. So instead he was wandering from lab to lab, trying to find something to occupy himself while Chris and their new team member Doctor Sanchez continued to sift through personnel files in search of a fourth member.

"No, that doesn't work," he heard a voice mumbling from the far end of what he had at first thought was a storage room. The room looked like his old work shed out back of the house he and Chris had shared in Norfolk before Chris had married Sarah - a place that had seen no small accumulation of crap and a significantly limited amount of anything which could be called 'work'. He stepped inside, looking around carefully, and finally found the mumbler perched on a small stool by a trio of computers on a tiny table in the corner. "Maybe if I... no, that won't work either."

"What'cha doing?" Buck asked casually, but still managed to spook the kid. The young man couldn't be more than twenty-two, Buck guessed from the innocent look in the eyes peering over a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.

"Uh, hi," the kid said, scanning Buck's appearance. Buck glanced down at himself and realized he probably didn't exactly exude authority at the moment, dressed in light khaki fatigue pants and a Navy sweatshirt. "You new here?"

"Commander Buck Wilmington, Navy," the tall man said easily, stepping in further and looking around with interest. "Still getting my bearings around here, just snooping a bit. So what's this lab about?"

"Um, well, it's not a lab really," the kid replied. "It's part storage room for Doctor Jackson's stuff that he's not currently working on, and part stock room for the base." Buck grinned as the young man's eyes flicked toward a shelf that housed an obnoxious amount of toilet paper.

"So you're in here why then?"

"Captain Carter asked me to do some calculations on a couple of the sites from the Abydos maps that appear to have gone completely off-route from the original coordinates. I hooked up a few of the spare computers to interlink their memories, and this was the only place I could find the room to set up."

"Works," Buck acknowledged.

The kid cocked his head, studying his visitor carefully. "Aren't you the second louie of the new Team Seven?"

"Yeah, that's me."

"Captain Larabee's team."

"Yup."

"Cool," the kid breathed. "Sam says you guys are gonna be da bomb."

"Uh, sure," Buck said, confused. "Who's Sam?"

"Captain Carter?"

"Oh, right," Buck nodded. "Haven't met her yet, but she sure is the talk of the town, ain't she?"

The kid smiled broadly. "She worked with Doctor Langford on the Stargate program long before Doctor Jackson came on board. Most of the original work and almost everything involving the design of the dialing computer was her doing. She's spearheaded the unit responsible for most of the computational advances we've achieved in the last year and been the one to come up most of the ideas which have saved this planet time and again."

"Take it she's kind of your hero," Buck grinned suggestively. Sure sounded like the kid had a little crush on the infamous captain.

The boy took a moment to catch Buck's implication before he made an outraged face. "Uh! She's my cousin!"

"Oh?" Buck leered, before he actually caught the comment and backpedaled quickly. "Oh! Oh, well, hey, cousins can be heroes too." The youth scowled, and Buck attempted to change directions. "So then the Air Force is a family tradition? Does that make you a mini-Carter?"

"I wish. JD Dunne, Airman E-2. My mother was Sam's mother's sister; I guess the knack for studies comes from the Ahndersonn side of the family. The Carters have all the military and tactical talent." The kid sighed and turned back to his computer. "The Dunnes seem to be lacking in that area."

"You made it through basic, so you can't be that bad," Buck chuckled.

The kid shrugged. "I passed. Not the top of my group, but I did okay. Sam said it didn't matter since I'm a really good researcher. She was the one who got me into the Stargate program despite my low rank and young age; she showed her supervisors my school grades and test results from my Air Force application exams and they were willing to give me a chance."

"And here you are," Buck said cheerfully. "They've kept you around, so you must be doing a good job."

"I wouldn't let Sam down," the boy said darkly. "I owe her a lot."

Buck was sorely tempted to ask more, but decided against it. It was obviously a touchy subject with the kid. "So, what to you do for fun around here?"

"Fun?" The kid frowned slightly, pushing up his glasses. "Well, we have a considerable library on level ten - I have been working my way through The Chinese War and the Collapse of the Javanese State by Willem Remmelink as well as German Battle Tactics on the Russian Front by Steven Newton. Or if you like, Major Montgomery has been teaching yoga in the gym everyday at six. And Doctor Jackson arranged that we get a regular rotation of reports from various scientific conferences. And of course, we're all encouraged to watch the videotapes of the mission briefings of the field teams after they've been cataloged." The kid grinned excitedly. "I've watched every SG-1 mission briefing about a dozen times! They have such cool adventures!"

"Videos of mission briefings?" Buck shook his head. "Kid, do you even know what fun is? Do you guys watch movies? You know, stuff involving fictional characters, actors, pretty girls? Or have a basketball court? Hell, I'd even settle for some checkers. You know, something that isn't educational or involves training and learning?"

"Uh... there's a chess set in the mess closet," JD said nervously. "Some of the lab guys have a Wednesday club there."

"I guess that will have to do," Buck said. "So when do you get off duty?"

"Uh, well, I'm not actually on official duty at the moment," the kid reluctantly admitted.

"Well good!" Buck's arm was around the kid's shoulders in a heartbeat, pulling the younger man off the stool and out of the room. "So let's go play a game of chess!"

"But..."

"No buts! All work and no play makes JD Dunne a very dull boy. And while we play, you can tell me all about your cousin!"

+ + + + + + +

Ezra sighed as he slipped into the small room that was serving as his base of operations. He had been here for nearly two days and still not made any significant progress in getting access to the server backup rooms. He had managed to ingratiate himself with several of the lower ranking staff on the base and learned an awful lot about the activities going on here - not that he completely understood what he had learned. It was difficult to weasel information out of the lowest ranks, who didn't really seem to know much beyond their specific responsibilities anyway, without asking questions which would be too suspicious from someone who supposedly already knew what the base was all about. The lower level scientists would have known more, but they seemed to run in packs and be too busy conversing amongst themselves for Ezra to be able to strike up a casual conversation he could then steer in the right directions. And he had to be careful to avoid anyone above an E-7 rank except in passing until he had been around long enough to be mostly taken for granted.

He also had decided on a cover which meant he could only be seen roaming the base for limited amounts of time each day. Unfortunately, since he had not yet managed to get his hands on a security key lock, he spent much of his time hiding in this backup generator room. He had chosen the room specifically for its low level of importance - being a third backup, it was inspected and maintained on a monthly basis just to make sure it was functioning properly. Otherwise it was pretty much left alone unless the base sensors advised there was a reason to do otherwise. Ezra had specifically chosen the timeframe for his operation to begin four days after the scheduled monthly maintenance.

So for now, he was doing what a thief did best: biding his time. He had noticed that Sergeant Dobbs of the janitorial crew had a tendency to clean the General's office at three a.m., and that he usually didn't close the door to the office while he worked.

And he wore headphones while he mopped.

+ + + + + + +

"John?"

Buck looked up from the game as the pretty blond approached. This HAD to be the elusive and much-awed Captain Samantha Carter; in the last two hours he'd spent playing chess with her cousin, he had learned practically the woman's entire history from family life to education to military career. He knew about her favorite foods and activities, far more than he would have liked about her ex-boyfriends and one ex-fiancé, and not a small amount about her rather complicated relationships with her father and brother.

To say she was JD's hero was an understatement; the young man positively worshipped his cousin.

"Sam!" JD grinned as he moved his pawn. "I thought you were doing a briefing with Team Eight on P3X-299."

"We got done early," Sam said, her gaze shifting from Buck the board. "I thought you were working in the lab."

"I dragged him out for some food and fun," Buck said easily, moving his bishop before leaning back in his chair. "You must be Captain Carter. I've heard a lot about you."

Sam glanced at JD suspiciously. "I can only imagine," she said self-consciously. "I'll warn you, though; John has a tendency to make me something of a superhero."

"I do not," JD said firmly, grinning as he moved his knight. "I tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

"Just without the jagged edges," Sam chided her cousin. "You've always seen me through rose-colored glasses, kiddo." She turned her focus solidly on the man who was in the process of considering the board. "So you are...?"

"Hang on a second." Buck nibbled at his moustache for a moment before moving his queen; then he looked up at the captain with a brilliant smile. "Nice to meet you, ma'am, I'm Commander Buck Wilmington. Looks like I'm going to be second-in-command of the new SG-7." He stood and offered his hand, which Sam took in a firm shake. "Gotta say, I've been looking forward to meeting you."

"I can only imagine," Sam chuckled, her eyes flickering once more toward JD. "So what has you playing chess with a Grand Master?" She studied the board. "And holding your own, actually. Not bad."

"Grand Master?" Buck blinked at her, then looked at JD. "Grand Master?"

"You didn't know?" Sam turned to her cousin. "John Daniel, were you going easy on him to try to soften up a superior offer?"

JD slumped. "No, he was actually doing okay on his own."

"Wait, I thought the idea of this was to have fun!" Buck declared. "Kid, that's it. Next time we're going to actually leave the base, maybe hit the bars, do a little dancing, a little wooing... wait, you are old enough to go to a bar, right?"

"You were trying to get him to have fun?" Sam asked, smiling. "Good luck on that. Then again, Jack always tells me I don't know what fun is either. After all, I think fun is trying to figure out how to build a cold fusion reactor using stuff found in a typical kitchen. So what do I know?"

"Well, I suppose I'll just have to make it my life's goal to teach you two how to have fun!" Buck declared firmly. "Tell you what, how about the three of us make it a night out, grab a pizza and a movie?"

"Uh, not tonight," Sam said, suddenly nervous. "John, you can go if you want."

"Nah, I have stuff to do in the lab," the kid said, watching his cousin closely. "Those calculations you wanted."

"They can wait if you want to go," Sam said. She leaned down, putting a hand on the kid's shoulder. "John, you don't have to spend every living breathing minute trying to be like me." She smiled fondly at him, then turned to Buck. "As for you, Wilmington, just remember this is my kid brother." She smiled, but the snap of her eyes flashed a friendly warning.

""Yes Ma'am," Buck said solemnly. He knew better than to mess with a woman trained in hand-to-hand combat. They didn't tend to fight fair.

He watched the blonde as she strode away, shaking his head. After a moment, he returned to his seat and considered his companion. "Grand Champion? And we've been playing for an hour now and I'm holding my own against you?"

JD squirmed slightly. "Uh, well, you've been doing really good, honest!"

"Uh-huh." Buck leaned back, grinning. "So. John Daniel, huh?"

"I prefer JD," the young man said firmly, his gaze becoming more confident. "Only my cousin calls me John."

Buck chuckled. "John Daniel Dunne. Johnny D. Jonathan Daniel-san."

JD sighed and moved his rook.

"Checkmate."

THREE

"Chris, how are you doing?"

"You're asking me?" Chris asked, studying the man sitting on the infirmary table. "You're the one who was held in an alien prison for days, and then a week after escaping that got trapped in a virtual reality loop."

"Eh, it happens occasionally," Jack replied casually. Chris cocked an eyebrow, but didn't push further. He was vaguely familiar with the time Jack had spent in prison in Iraq, and could only imagine the recent experiences had brought back some less-than-pleasant memories. Then a week later to have to relive an old friend's death over and over... "How's the formation of your team progressing? I would have thought you'd have gone on your first as-team training mission by now."

"Yeah, well, Hammond seems set on us having at least four members," Chris sighed. "I haven't found a fourth person I think I can spend this much time with without wanting to smack them around."

"But Chris, you're such a tolerant, patient human being," Jack teased.

"Yeah, well, ya know, we humans get less sufferable was we get older." Chris stepped aside as Doctor Fraiser moved in to take a blood sample.

"With the exception of some bumps and bruises, you seem okay," the pretty doctor said lightly. "But I'm ordering the entire team to take at least a week off after this. Daniel's still got a sore neck and throat from his experience on Hadante, and all of you have some puncture wounds from those machines, and I won't even bother to bring up the emotional stress he and you experienced with the Keeper's little games."

"I'm fine," Jack countered.

"Of course you are," Janet said in a tone that said she didn't believe him. "Not to mention you could all stand to eat some decent food for a few meals."

"So you're ordering us off-base?" Jack said hopefully.

"So I'm ordering you off-base," Fraiser chuckled. "If you want, I'll even order you to have a nice barbeque with all the fixings, so long as I get invited."

"Hey, there's a Cubs-Mets double-header on tomorrow starting at one," Chris suggested.

Jack brightened even more. "Great! Battle of the Underdogs!"

"Shall I bring the beer?"

Jack's energy was returning in spades. "Bring Wilmington, too. Doc, you're invited so long as you bring a big pan of your potato salad." Jack looked to Chris eagerly. "She makes this potato salad with mustard and little bits of celery and egg that is just to die for." Chris chuckled as the colonel looked back to his doctor. "You can even bring that guy from the hospital you've been seeing."

"We're not dating," the pert woman argued. "He's been helping me with the tests we've been running on Teal'c's blood."

"Whatever, you've been spending an awful lot of time with him," Jack asked. Chris shook his head; sometimes Jack could be nosier than an old blue-hair.

"He's very helpful," Janet said patiently. "Besides, if you must know, he's married. Has a lovely wife named Raine."

"Well, bring him anyway," Jack said. "Tell you what, you can even bring his wife." Jack looked at Chris knowingly. "If she exists."

Janet chuckled and shook her head. "For that, not only will I bring Nathan, AND Raine, but I'll ask Raine to bring this peanut butter fudge she makes."

"Oooh, peanut butter fudge," Jack said, nearly drooling. "That's not fair, cuz when she turns out to be a figment of your imagination, so will the fudge!"

Chris laughed as Janet smacked Jack lightly on the back of the head and walked away. "Okay, so anything I can bring besides Buck and beer?"

"Lots of beer would be nice," Jack said, climbing off the table and buttoning up his shirt. "And sodas - I think just Coke and Diet Coke, maybe two cases of the first, one of the second. Maybe some chips? I have a feeling by the time we get done we'll have about a dozen people or so. Janet will bring her daughter Cassie, and Sam's been dating Captain Russell from Team Six."

The colonel considered as he pulled on his shoes. "Of course we'll have to invite the general, and since Major Kovacek is still in town I should probably ask him, seeing how he was valiant in his efforts to try to get the Taldor to release us and all. Oh, and you should bring Sanchez, right? New member of your team and all, would be rude not to invite him. Oh hey, ask him to bring his chili - rumor has it he makes a chili that will eat through the Tupperware."

"Okay, so beer, soda, chips, and chili," Chris nodded. "I assume you're going to get the hamburgers and hot dogs?"

"Daniel will bring a huge salad, but it's actually tasty. He tosses it with this Italian dressing that makes the rabbit food edible."

"And Sam?"

"Sam brings cookies," Jack grinned in anticipation. "Made from scratch, sinfully delicious chocolate chip cookies."

"I take it these are worth skipping the salad for," Chris laughed.

"Oh, you'd sell your own mother for one of these things," Jack smiled dreamily.

"What about Teal'c?"

"He'll bring shrimp."

"Shrimp?"

"He's got a serious thing for shrimp," Jack said. "Carter once said that if the Goa'uld ever wanted to convince Teal'c to betray us and go back to their side, all they'd have to do is offer him permanent assignment on Earth with all the shrimp he could eat. You should have seen his eyes light up the day he saw a Red Lobster commercial for Shrimpfest."

Chris chuckled. "Alrighty then, let's go shopping."

+ + + + + + +

The weather was perfect for a barbeque - nothing like July in Colorado Springs, Jack thought as he leaned back with his beer. Earlier in the day the both the yard and the living room had been filled with good friends and excellent food. The twelve had balloon into about thirty after friends of friends had been added to the party list, but that had only made for more variety at the table and more people to chat with as you moved from the baseball game in the living room to the backyard picnic.

An hour after the last pitch much of the group had petered out, leaving only a small handful of friends. Janet and the very non-fictional Raine Lone Tree-Jackson were with Cassandra at the far end of the sofa playing a word game while Sam, JD, Josiah and Daniel were having a vigorous discussion about some scientific theory. That left Buck, Chris and Nathan with Jack arguing the most minute aspects of the game, while Teal'c sat with them looking thoroughly confused at the entire debate.

Jack couldn't remember feeling this comfortable in a long time.

"I don't agree," Nathan was saying, gesturing avidly with his beer. "Instead of watching baseball players we're stuck watching a bunch of specialized athletes. Every man on the field should be required to play both the offense and the defense."

"Pitchers are necessarily special," Buck countered. "And they get paid for that specialty, to perfect that specialty. Why should they waste time practicing batting when they aren't ever going to be anything more than adequate, and in the meantime be distracted from their actual job?"

"The designated hitter removes the need for strategy," Jack said firmly. "Instead of planning your defense and offense based on the strengths and weaknesses of all nine players involved, you simply heavy-weight your batting line up and stick in a ringer for the inevitably weakest link."

"It's no different than the place kicker in football, is it?" Buck asked. "Or the special rules for the goalie in soccer and hockey? Why not have completely separate offensive and defensive teams in baseball like you do in football?"

"How can you say that?" Chris asked, incredulous. "Nathan, Jack, I have to apologize for Buck and his insane ideas. It's not really his fault - his mother raised him a Royals fan and had a huge crush on George Brett. If he wasn't so cute we'd have locked him away years ago to save the world from his radicalism."

"I am not...! I simply realize that as the world changes so should the game!"

"Baseball is one of the last remaining staples of pure American creation, Buck," Chris sighed. "The whole point of the game is the balance of nine players against nine players, the combinations of skill levels in the various requirements."

"The designated hitter improves the overall quality of the game," Buck said firmly. "Offensively it means that a manager doesn't have to coordinate his batting line around an obvious easy out. Defensively, it allows the manger to put out his best field team and hire pitchers for their throwing arm while not having to worry if he's going to cut into his offensive strategy. And is it really so wrong to have a rule that allows you to protect your pitcher - the most valuable player on any baseball team - from the inevitability of injuries that come from running bases?"

"Why not have a designated runner for the catcher, to protect his knees? Why not be able to put in anyone who's better than the other player? Why not have a designated free thrower for when Shaq gets hacked, so we don't have to watch the big man waste time at the free throw line?" Nathan asked, shaking his head.

"Buck, face it, when it comes to opinions on sports, you're a lunatic." Chris chuckled as he handed Buck another beer.

"I just happen to think the DH is a good idea," Buck groused.

"And we forgive you for being completely wrong," Chris said sympathetically, patting his friend's knee. "So," he said in a voice that said he was changing the subject. "Nate, you're a doctor at the Air Force Academy Hospital?"

"Yeah, both Raine and I are," Nathan nodded. "I've also done some research work for Janet in the base labs; we have SGC clearance and have stepped in when Janet and Doctor Warner needed some backup support."

"So I understand," Chris said. "Josiah's had a number of good things to say about you. I understand you've seen some field time as well? On Earth, at least."

"I put myself through school on the GI Bill," Nathan replied. "And I'm still in the Army reserves."

"We've called him in a few times when we've needed a medical expert on a mission," Jack mentioned. "Nathan's been to four different worlds now on medical containment assignments."

"I thought all people with gate-travel clearance were assigned full-time to the base operations," Buck asked.

"That's preferred," Jack said. "But with the medical support staff and research people it's just not always practical."

"Think of it like a brain surgeon," Nathan suggested. "You wouldn't have him just sitting around waiting for a brain to work on, and not let him go off somewhere and do something else while he's waiting."

"Makes sense," Chris nodded. "But isn't that a security risk?"

"Not any more than it would have been to let you wander back to your ranch after the tour," Jack replied. "Anyone called in has been thoroughly vetted before they're allowed any information about the Stargate project. In the rare case that we feel we need the help of someone who doesn't pass clearance, someone like Nathan is called in to liaise between that person and the program, so that the non-cleared person can accomplish what we need from them without the project being compromised."

"Sounds tricky," Buck said.

"You have no idea," Nathan sighed. "We actually had that experience fairly early on in the active missions' roster - one of the guys on Team Six got accidentally zapped with some weird alien device that caused his heart to nearly solidify. We had an antidote, provided by the same aliens who created the original device, but it had to be administrated directly into the heart in a very particular way that required an extremely experienced heart surgeon. Just imagine trying to explain to a doctor with years of experience beyond anything I have that this is the way to solve the problem, without explaining what the problem was or how we were sure this was the solution."

"Can't think it went over too well," Chris said.

"Not really," Nathan chuckled. "I got a lot of 'what can you possibly know about this' and 'how dare you deem to think you can tell me what to do'. Was a little tiring."

Jack watched as Chris and Buck engaged Nathan in some of the particulars of his missions, which Jack knew had mostly been benign second-contact situations and cleanup-type trips. Josiah had mentioned - rather casually, but frequently enough to be noticeably - that he thought Nathan Jackson was an overlooked gem of the Stargate staff, but Jack had to admit that he had never really thought about what else the man could be used for. After all, Nathan Jackson was a doctor. A good guy, fast on his feet, smart as a whip and all that; like Janet and several other members of the civilian contingent, he had stepped up in several situations to prove himself more than just a scientist or doctor. In the end, though, he was just a doctor. Right?

But now as he sat listening to the man talk, sharing stories of his military experience with two other veterans of action, Jack was beginning to get a new look at the tall doctor. Out of the corner of his eye he caught Josiah watching them, smiling that knowing smile the man got when other people were finally catching up to something he had known all along, and Jack found himself smiling back. A glance at how caught up Chris and Buck were with the man, comparing encounters and tactical ideas on how previous missions could have been handled better, theoreticals on how to deal with the Goa'uld in different situations, and Jack was sure that Nathan would be receiving an invitation to Team Seven.

Even if he had to kick the point home with Chris Larabee.

+ + + + + + +

Ezra leaned against the back of the door as it closed, thrilled beyond belief that after just over a week he was finally making progress on his objectives. This morning he had been able to engage the delightful Master Sergeant Reyanne Colleschi in conversation and the discussion had been enlightening. The sergeant had recently been tapped to offer a tour of the facilities to some key congressman and she was terribly nervous about making a good impression; Ezra had immediately offered to critique her intended presentation by pretending to be totally ignorant of the facilities. She had jumped at the chance.

What had followed had been one of the most fantastic stories he had ever heard, and it made many of the little drips and drabs he had picked up over the past week make a lot more sense. It was all so utterly fantastic, but at the same time it was now becoming real; and it was now completely understandable why the intelligence community would be royally pissed about being shut out.

And now that he had managed to snag a security card from one of the cleaning crew, he was ready to move.

Earlier today he had heard that a large number of the major players on the base were heading out for the day to a party at Colonel O'Neill's house. Taking advantage of that, he had let himself into Doctor Jackson's office and snapped photographs of as many pages of the linguist's notebooks as he could (who in this day and age still wrote long-hand?) and then worked his way on to Captain Carter's office to download most of her data onto several memory chips.

He just made the mistake of looking at the stuff and trying to make it make sense.

"Hey, are you supposed to be in here?"

Ezra looked up to see the face of the young airman he had encountered on his very first day on the base - Downy? Donner? Dunne, maybe Wasn't the kid supposed to have gone to the party? His eyes flickered to the clock and he realized a lot more time had passed than he had realized; it was nearly ten-thirty at night.

Crap.

"Yes, Airman, it's alright," he said with as much confidence as he could exude. "The captain offered me access to her files so that I could make the best presentation to Senator Kinsey." He was so glad Colleschi had a perchant for name-dropping.

"Oh, I didn't realize," the young man said nervously. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Well, I was just reading over the basic rules of using the dialing computer in order to try to determine if there are any possibilities for streamlining the process, making it more cost efficient."

"The dialing sequence?" Dunne frowned, and Ezra hoped he hadn't misunderstood Colleschi's lecture points. "Well, it's all done by computer so I can't imagine you can save any money there."

"It's entirely done by the computer?" Ezra frowned, his mind racing. "Why did I think there was a physical element involved in the chevron locking process?"

"Well, I guess you could say the actual process of the gate itself locking the sequence is physical, but there's nothing you can do to change that," the boy said thoughtfully. Ezra was pleased to see that the kid's intellectual tendencies had diverted his attention from the question of his presence in the captain's office so quickly. "I mean, it's like watering a lawn with a hose. If the computer is controlling turning on the water and directing where the hose is directed, you still can't get away from the fact that the water has to physically move through the hose."

Ezra blinked; he wasn't entirely sure he understood the analogy, but so long as the kid thought he was making sense it didn't really matter. "Okay, maybe I'm misunderstanding all this. Why don't you run me through a typical dialing sequence?"

"Uh, well," Dunne said. "I don't know if you'll totally get it just on the computer. Maybe you should ask General Hammond to let you sit with Sergeant Davis on an actual dialing launch. I'm kind of surprised he hasn't had you do that already - that and the base tour are usually the first things he does with government representatives."

"It just hasn't been convenient yet," Ezra said. "Being just a minor underling filling in for the real liaison hasn't exactly made me a high priority on the General's schedule. Though I suppose you're correct. Perhaps I should push the issue. But I won't be able to ask General Hammond at least until tomorrow, and I have to submit a report on this tonight, so could you do me the favor of just giving me a theoretical lesson? Just a basic tutorial - how it works, how you operate it, that sort of thing. That way when I get to observe a true dialing, I'll have a point of reference."

"Of course, sir," Dunne said, nodding respectfully. Ezra smiled warmly, knowing it would encourage the young man to be the most helpful he could be.

Every day he thanked god for the military's unnatural training of following the orders and requests of a superior officer without thinking about it.

+ + + + + + +

Sam yawned as she waved to the duty sergeant at the check in desk. JD had caught a ride back to the base with Janet and Teal'c hours ago, saying he wanted to finish one of his simulations, but she had opted to stay on after Raine had offered a recipe exchange of her fudge for Sam's cookies. Then had come the men's shouting match over Mike Piazza verses Sammy Sosa, which she had completely not followed at all but apparently Raine had found terribly amusing. Finally, nearly two hours after JD had left, Nathan had chased them all out in following with Janet's parting orders to 'not stay too late' and 'get some rest'.

Daniel and Josiah had stayed to help Jack clean up before heading home themselves, so since Sam had ridden with JD to the party she had caught a ride back to the mountain with Chris and Buck. She had planned to run a few more tests on some samples in her lab before going to bed, however now that she was actually back on base the exhaustion of a long enjoyable day was catching up.

"Going back to the lab, ma'am?"

She glanced up from signing in at the front desk to see Airman Weaver, one of the evening guards of the lab, coming off duty. "Just for a minute, then I'm going to crash in the barracks. Did JD sign in?"

"Yes ma'am, I think I saw him in your office with that new major from the appropriations committee."

"Major?" Sam frowned. "I don't think I've met a new major." She glanced at Chris and Buck, who shrugged and shook their heads.

"Yeah, Major Donovan. He's been here maybe a week now?" the airman shrugged. "Nice enough guy, really." The man frowned. "I'm surprised you haven't been introduced."

"I'll have to ask General Hammond," Sam said, puzzled. She glanced at Chris and Buck. "I would have thought he'd at least have mentioned a new senate liaison."

"Might have skipped his mind with everything going on around here," Chris suggested.

"Yeah, probably," Weaver nodded. "I mean, he was only arrived while you were off on the prison planet; trying to get you guys back was pretty much the priority at the moment. Then when you guys came back and debriefed, then ended up on the VR world, and team four came back from P8A-249 with that chicken pox-like illness and all..." She trailed off, looking a bit uncomfortable. "Well, just not surprising it didn't come up."

"Probably didn't want to bother you with more politics," Buck agreed. "Would have thought he'd have mentioned it to Chris though."

"Buck, our team hasn't officially been formed yet," Chris replied. "I doubt I rate an introduction to the politicos. But he's right, Sam, you've been a little busy lately."

"Good point," Sam conceded. "Maybe I'll stick my head in before I hit the sack."

Sam trudged to the elevator with the two men behind her, and was surprised when the door opened to reveal General Hammond on his way out. "Good evening, sir, I thought you went straight home from the barbeque."

"I did," Hammond grumbled. "Then I got called back by Major Dorry because she forgot to have me sign about six million forms before I left this morning."

Sam chuckled. "I know you're friends with her father, sir, but perhaps you should consider reassigning her to something that requires less responsibility?"

"The only thing I could reassign her to would be janitorial duty, and that would be an insult to her father," Hammond sighed. "I'm thinking about trying to get her assigned to Senator Kinsey's office. That could work in our favor."

"Speaking of the Senator, Weaver mentioned we've been hosting a new liaison to his office?"

Hammond looked at her, puzzled. "Not that I was aware of."

Sam cocked her head. "Weaver said he's been here about a week now. He's currently with JD in... my office."

The two looked at each other for a moment, their alarm growing. Then the general reached for the nearest phone.

"This is General Hammond. I want this Major who's saying he's a liaison to the Senate brought to me immediately. He is to be considered a hostile intruder until I say otherwise."

"General, with your permission I'm going to run down to my office and check if he and JD are still there," Sam said nervously. "If this man's an intruder, JD could be in trouble."

"We'll come with you," Buck said firmly.

"Back up can't hurt," Chris added, glancing at the general for approval, which was given immediately.

Sam nodded and headed into the elevator, the men following behind her. She pushed the button for twenty-one, resisting the urge to push it repeatedly in the vain hopes it might make the elevator go faster.

She could only hope her fears were unwarranted.

+ + + + + + +

Ezra studied the computer carefully. Airman Dunne had been incredibly helpful, giving him a complete demonstration of how the dialing computer worked by running a typical embarkation simulation. Of course, the kid hadn't realized that the entire demonstration was being downloaded directly onto disc as it ran. At the rate he was collecting information this evening, he could leave and feel confident he had achieved his goals. Later this evening he would activate the data transmitters he had installed on the inter-base network and then slip out the small ventilation shaft which had been his access into the base.

JD was chattering on energetically in a way that made Ezra a little remorseful. Odds were the senior officers would hold the kid responsible once the break-in was discovered; Ezra regretted that, since it certainly wasn't the kid's fault that he was the best thief and con man in the business. Well, hopefully it would be a long time before the SGC realized there had been an infiltration and wouldn't be able to pin-point exactly when it had happened, thus the kid would be free of the blame.

"Thank you, Airman Dunne, this has been most enlightening," he said as he slipped the computer disks into the briefcase he was using as part of his costume. "I wish I could stay longer and have you run a few more examples for me, but I'm afraid I have another meeting early in the morning and should get at least two or three hours of sleep."

"I understand," Dunne nodded, smiling. "Thank you for the opportunity to work with you, sir. It's been a big honor."

"You've got real promise, son," Ezra chuckled. "I expect I'll be hearing more from you in the future; don't disappoint me."

"Yes sir!" JD said, snapping to attention and saluting smartly. Ezra saluted back and slipped out the door, striding down the hall with confidence and satisfaction. In a little over two days, he would be enjoying mai tais on a private island resort off the coast of Bali with the rewards of this little venture.

He was practically skipping inside as he slipped into his last targeted room, the artifacts storage room. He didn't need anything else to satisfy Maybourne's agenda, but wanted to make a rubbing of a particular tablet he had found fascinating during his earlier snooping. He was in the process of closing the door behind him when a conversation floating up the hall stopped in him in tracks.

"If he's been here a whole week there's no knowing what he's managed to gain access to," a deep voice was saying, a voice Ezra recognized as that of General Hammond, the base commander. A peek out the nearly-closed door showed the general stumping by with a small squad of underlings in tow as he barked. "We need to find this man and find out what he knows and who he works for. I want the entire base on lockdown until he's under warps and we've done a full sweep for any signs of sabotage. He's been passing himself as a Major and has been seen mostly in the mess and research facilities so far, but that doesn't mean he hasn't gotten into the mainframes or systems. I want a complete review of all security tapes over the last two weeks, I want to know how he got in, every place he's been, and I want to interview everyone he's talked to. Consider this a foothold situation, people!"

Ezra quietly closed the door and sighed, leaning his head against the door. There was no question - they had to be talking about him. Time was up, he had to get out of here now.

He waited for the hall to quiet down again; apparently a general alarm was not going to be sounded, probably on the idea that they could catch him off-guard. Ezra bit his lip and carefully stripped off his major's jacket, leaving him only in his black tee and pants. At this time of night it would be believable on a secured base such as this to find minor staff wandering out of regular uniform, and he would use that to his advantage. He removed the computer disks and digital camera and slipped them into his pockets and down the back of his underwear. Finally he rumpled his hair and mussed his shirt and pants, hoping to resemble someone who had crawled out of bed in search of a midnight snack, at least until he could find a uniform bay and get a complete change of costume - maybe a staff sergeant or a senior airman, something nice and low and unimportant.

He wandered down the hall, relieved to not run into anyone he knew until he snuck into the small locker room at the end of the hall. There he was relieved to find several laundry bins with marked bags, which he searched through until finding one marked 'S. Johnson'. Nice common name, and with at least 300 on-site staff the odds were there were at least four or five on base. Who would notice one more? He opened the bag, sniffing in disgust when he realized this was the dirty laundry, but was relieved that this Johnson person was a nice lowly technical sergeant. He sighed as he pulled the dirty rumpled uniform shirt over his tee and traded his smart khaki slacks for the dirty black military fatigues he found in the bag. Most important was the hat, which he pulled over his hair, trying to carefully tuck in every curl in the hopes of appearing to have a much shorter cut. Then once again, he ducked carefully back into the hall and continued on his way.

"Sergeant?"

Ezra glanced left to the voice that called to him from the hall he was passing; his eyes flickered quickly to the pocket, thankful for the military's need to put names on uniforms. "Yes, Captain Carter?"

The pretty woman stepped up to him; behind her stood the tall ladies' man he had seen flirting with the ladies in the mess, and a blond man he hadn't seen before. "Sergeant," the woman said, "have you seen Major Donovan?"

Ezra put on a frown. "The guy from the appropriations committee? I saw him a few hours ago in the mess playing checkers with Rommak, but I've been sacked out since then. Just got up a little while ago."

"Keep an eye out," the blond man said sternly. "He's an imposter. If you see him, try to apprehend him but use caution."

"An imposter, sir?" Ezra blinked, hoping he looked confused and less-than-quick-witted.

"We aren't sure of anything at the moment, Sergeant," Carter told him. "Don't take any chances."

"Yes ma'am," Ezra said, snapping a sharp salute. He stepped to the side as the trio continued on down the hall. As soon as then were far enough along, he continued on his way, stepping up his pace.

+ + + + + + +

"John!"

The airman looked up as Sam entered the room with Buck and Chris behind her. It had taken longer than he thought to close down the computers and straighten up after his demonstrations, but he was done enough that he didn't feel embarrassed. "Hey Sam. I'm surprised you're still up."

"Just got back from Jack's house. I heard you were showing Major Donovan around?"

"Yeah," JD nodded. "He asked for a demonstration of how the dialing computer works, so he had a practical experience to go with his notes. I think he actually understands the process now." JD smiled proudly. "He said I showed real promise, Sam! You think maybe he'll put in a good word for me with the general? Maybe I'll get a chance at being on a field team after all?"

Sam put her hands firmly on her cousin's shoulders. "John, do you know where the major went?"

"Uh, he mentioned he was going to grab some sleep," JD frowned. "He only left about ten minutes ago."

"Ten minutes ago?" Chris shook his head. "Ten minutes is like ten hours around here. He could be anywhere."

"Well, we're turning out the base to look for him," Buck shrugged. "Can't get that far, can he?"

"He can if he manages to avoid anyone who knows what he looks like," Sam sighed. "John, what exactly does he look like?"

"Major Donovan?" JD cocked his head. "What's going on, Sam?"

"JD, we think that Major Donovan is an imposter," Chris said. "Supposedly he's the new senate appropriations liaison, except General Hammond's never met him and was unaware that we had a new liaison."

JD shook his head. "No, that can't be right. The man is so knowledgeable about everything..."

"He's a good con artist, kid," Buck said simply. "He conned a lot of people, if he's been here a whole week and not been caught up till now."

"Geez," JD breathed as it all caught up to him. "Sam, he knows how to work the computers, he knows tons about the network, I know he's spent hours in the research labs with Jacobs and Lodanis..."

"Man's been busy," Chris growled. "So let's find him and find out exactly what he's in this for."

"John, report to General Hammond, tell him what you know," Sam said. "Be careful - if you run into the man again, don't let on you know he's a fraud and don't try to take him down yourself. Just find an MP on the double, you got it?" JD gulped but nodded solemnly, then watched as the trio left.

"I can't believe he conned me," JD said to himself. He took in a deep breath to steady himself, his mind racing with ideas of just how bad this could be. How many top secret things had he just handed over to the man? "So much for getting to be part of a field team," he muttered darkly. "I'll be lucky if I don't end up in the stockade for the rest of my life."

Shoring up his nerves, JD started out into the hall. He had only been to General Hammond's office once, when he was first assigned to the SGC. Most enlisted personnel didn't even get that, but as Samantha Carter's cousin the general had made time to welcome him. Since then he had only seen the general in passing, all his reports going through either his cousin or one of the senior researchers. As such, JD still found the Commander in Chief extremely intimidating.

Having Sam send him to report directly was worse than being sent to the principal's office in second grade.

He turned down the C hallway just as he saw a man reaching the stairwell. After spending the last two hours with the man, JD knew exactly who he was looking at. Except now the 'major' was dressed as a sergeant. JD narrowed his eyes as he glanced around - there was no one in sight. He shook himself and decided to follow.

+ + + + + + +

Ezra slipped into the backup computer room, looking around quickly. If he could get everyone's attentions distracted, he could make his escape. The best way he could think of would be to activate the Stargate. The gate room was on one of the lowest levels of the facility; if he could draw most of the personnel down to the gate room by engaging the dialing computer, he could get up to his ventilation shaft and out without being noticed. He would have to activate the network bugs remotely, but he had planned for that possibility. All he had to do was get out.

Working feverishly, he skirted the security protocols for the dialing programs. It would take a bit for the bug Ezra was uploading to take affect, but in just under ten minutes the computer should start the sequence and chaos would ensue. That was all the time he would need to make his getaway.

"So you're an imposter, huh?"

Ezra's head jerked as he heard a hard voice over his shoulder. He was surprised to see young Airman Dunne as the speaker - he would never have believed the kid capable of so harsh a tone.

"What are you up to?" the kid asked, stepping closer, trying to look threatening. Ezra hesitated; in the hours he had spent with Dunne he had, much to his own dismay, developed a true admiration for the youth. The boy had mentioned, as casually as a kid that age was able, how much he wanted to someday be a part of a field team just like his cousin, and Ezra had found himself envious of the boy's optimism, ambition and spirit. It had been so long since he had had that sort of belief in his future...

"Look, I'm just doing my job," Ezra said carefully. He couldn't see any weapons but that didn't mean the boy wasn't a threat. He had at least passed basic training, and even though he was a scientist it was easy to see the kid had some muscle on his bones. If he planned to get on a field team, he would be keeping in good physical condition at the very least. "My job was to test the security of the facility, how easy it would be to break in and steal information."

"Why don't I believe you?" Dunne replied. "But if that's the case, then you and I are going to go see the General together and you can explain yourself to him."

Ezra shook his head. So much for his bluff; the kid wasn't as naive as he'd hoped. "Look, I don't want you involved in this; you're a nice kid..."

"You don't want me involved?" Dunne growled, stepping closer. "You involved me the minute you suckered me into downloading all that top secret information onto computer disks you could sneak out of here! God, I'm so stupid!"

"No, you're not," Ezra said, wondering why on earth he wasn't just getting the hell out of Dodge. "I'm just really, really good at what I do, okay?"

"I completely bought your act!" Dunne hissed, turning to slap the door frame. "I helped you! And now I'm going to be the one who turns you in so I can get my butt out of the sling!"

Ezra sighed, he really wished he could have avoided this. "Dunne, I'm sorry that you got pulled into this, really. But if it makes you feel better? You're not the only one." He stepped forward, a small step, his hands out as he tried to appear harmless. "And I wish I could make it up to you..."

Dunne turned his eyes up at Ezra's soft tones, just as Ezra's open palm suddenly shaped a fist and swung in. The boy moved to duck, but in the process Ezra snaked his foot in to yank knock Dunne off balance by the ankle. The kid toppled over, and Ezra ran like hell.

+ + + + + + +

Chris and Buck tagged behind Sam until she arrived at the monitoring station on level twenty-two. The Captain was in prime 'take charge' mode, a position Chris was used to being in and by rank might have claimed easily with the exception that he was too new to the base to receive the base staff's instantaneous obedience. Carter, on the other hand, had no such problem, something that spoke highly of the young woman. Chris was impressed as he watched her issue orders, directing the base personnel in the search with precision he would not have expected in a scientist. Then again, he reminded himself, she was also career military.

And then the gate alarms sounded.

"What now?" Chris growled.

"Captain, the computer is attempting to dial out," the technician named Davis announced over the intercom.

Sam hit the com switch. "Who's running it?"

"No one that I can tell, ma'am. It appears to have just started up by itself."

"Can you shut it down?"

There was a small pause before Davis replied, "No ma'am, it appears to have locked out any manual override."

"What does that mean?" Buck asked.

"It means the gate's going to open and there's nothing we can do about it," Sam hissed.

"The work of our intruder?" Chris suggested. "But why would he do that?"

Sam turned back to the intercom. "Davis, do we know what world is being dialed?" The 'kawoosh' sound let them know that the gate had completed its connection and was now wide open for transport.

"It's not a set of coordinates I've called up before, ma'am."

"Great," Sam sighed. She glanced at the viewing window. "Well, I suppose we should call a squad in to guard the gate room. We can at least insure that wherever he's dialing, he doesn't get the opportunity to get there."

Buck stepped over to the window, then shook his head. "Um."

Chris and Sam glanced at each other before hurrying to the window. The scene below was surprising; JD Dunne, Airman E-2 and scientist, was involved in a rolling fist fight with the sergeant they had encountered earlier. The three spent a moment blinking at the picture for a moment.

"Major Donovan?" Buck asked.

"He traded clothes," Sam said. "I talked right to him. I just assumed it couldn't be him because he was the wrong rank Why didn't it occur to me the guy might change clothes?"

"You're not a con artist," Chris replied. "Don't feel bad, didn't occur to us either."

They watched as JD struggled with the intruder, who appeared to be doing his best to simply stave off the obviously irate youth.

"Crap," Sam growled. She reached for the base intercom. "Squadron to the gate room, on the double! The intruder is in the gate room!" She stared back down at the room. "Damn it, John Daniel! What part of 'don't do it yourself' didn't you understand?" She started for the stairs, with Chris and Buck in tow.

+ + + + + + +

Ezra ducked as the youth threw another punch in his direction. Who would have thought a lab rat would have such notable fighting skills or such a wicked left hook?

Or be able to get quite so mad...

Ezra darted left as Dunne charged again, looking around wildly, trying to figure out a plan of action. He had originally intended to head up to level thirteen and out his escape route, however that option was cut out when he realized - belatedly, unfortunately - that one of the first actions when the gate was activated was an automatic general lockdown of all stairwells and elevators until the threat level was determined. Considering that Dunne was hot on his tail, and levels nineteen and twenty were separated by another locked doorway, he had no choice but to head down.

He had tried every door on the way down, barely staying ahead of the boy most of the time, occasionally not even. By the time the doors would open again, he was all the way down to the gate room level and had taken a half-dozen good punches on the times the kid had caught up to him. The kid had barely a scratch on him by comparison, but then, while he was out for Ezra's blood Ezra was trying his best not to harm his opponent.

Figured that little speck of conscience would rear its ugly head at the worst possible moment, Ezra thought ruefully.

He hadn't even realized where he was when he stumbled into the gate room, so engrossed was he in his defense, until Dunne's flying tackle flattened him at the moment of a sudden rumbling. There was a swooshing noise and Ezra felt the air pressure just over his head change dramatically as out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of bright white; only then did he realize he had been standing directly in the line of the vortex. Had the young Airman not pushed him to safety, he would be dead by now.

As the vortex receded he found himself rolling down the ramp with the stocky youth wailing at him with short jabs to the stomach. Ezra struggled to roll them over and push away from the kid. He moved to run for the door, but the airman dove at him again and he stumbled, falling sideways up the ramp. Resigned that he was going to have to throw at least one punch to get away from the kid, Ezra pulled away just enough to aim one shot at the kid's jaw. Unfortunately the kid saw his aim and turned so that his punch just skimmed Dunne's jaw.

More unfortunately, that was enough to spark the kid's anger into a pure rage and Dunne dove at him with a vengeance.

And then the world when crazy.

+ + + + + + +

"NO!"

Sam pressed against the observation glass as the two combatants below fell into the event horizon; seconds later, the wormhole closed behind them. She stared, disbelieving, at the room that now housed only a few armed guards who had entered during the fight but been unable to intervene in time. She felt a hand on her shoulder and turned to see Buck Wilmington's solemn face.

"We'll go after him," the man told her. "Chris had already gone to the dialing room to get Davis to bring up the coordinates."

"I don't know that planet," Sam said, trying to steel herself. "It's not been charted, not even been MALPed."

Buck nodded, understanding her fears; JD and the intruder had just tumbled through to a completely unknown situation. It was possible the planet had no oxygen or an intolerable atmosphere for humans. They could have landed in the middle of a Goa'uld stronghold or other hostile alien state of affairs, or they could have gone through to a buried gate. Bottom line, even if a rescue was launched in minutes, it might already be too late; they might already be dead.

"Come on, Captain," he said gently. "Best we can do is organize fast and hope. Don't give up until we have to."

Sam looked up into the naval officer's deep blue eyes and found the resolution she couldn't seem to find in herself. She let him pull her into a gentle hug, leaning against the tall strong body and allowing herself a moment of fear before she shook it off and strode for the door. She knew the man who had such a fondness for her cousin would be right behind her.

They had a rescue operation to plan.

+ + + + + + +

How many years now had he been coming to this spot? Since he first came to live with the clan, probably, about once or twice a season. These days though, not a cycle of the moon went by that he didn't spend at least one night sitting on this ridge, staring up at the night sky. The Heavenly Fires twinkled particularly brightly tonight, winking at him as if they had secrets to tell, and in the light of the Night Mother in her Full Figure the wide plain glittered, its sands reflecting Mother's shining love as though alive in their own right.

Tonight the East Wind blew a mild chill, promising rain in coming days which was badly needed this season. The gardens had been getting too dry, and Carkoa and the other wives had been worried their harvest would be scarce and that would make the Season of the Dead a hard one for their people. If East Wind delivered his promise, the gardens would flourish again and the harvest would likely be bountiful. For that, he offered his silent thanks to the Sky Spirits who influence East Wind's decisions.

He pulled his blanket around him and added another handful of wisdom-plant to his small smoldering fire, taking a deep breath as the herb permeated the air and soothed his soul. He loved his adopted family and always would, but still after so many years he did not feel completely at peace among them. Rica-talma had never treated him as anything less than a full-blood son, his wife and children the same, but still he knew he could not remain with them forever. He was not of their skin, no matter that he wear their shrifts and adorn himself in their customs. His hair was not dark enough, his eyes blue instead of brown. No matter how much he loved his life here, he did not belong.

And so here he came from time to time. Here by the Great Mystic Ocean, that which had given him birth as a small child. He sought guidance from the womb, but always it remained silent, unspeaking. Old Kalasana, the story keeper, had told him that in the Old Legends there was a time when people traveled through the Ocean all the time; one day that had stopped, the reason no one knew, and the knowledge of the way to travel had been lost. That was long ago, before the Greatest Tree had been born, before the Biting River had found its way from a creek bed in the mountain to reach the wide plains of the people. No one had traveled through the Great Mystic Ocean since.

Except for him.

He had only vague recollections of that day. For a long time right after his arrival he had had nightmares that he could never relay to his new family, but in time the nightmares had left him alone. Now, so many years later, he could only recall small snatches; otherwise, he had what Torga-lana had told him about his nightmares and that was all. Stories and fragments of distant memories about where he had come from, who he might have been once. He had given them his name, a name that was more important than life to him, and the memory of a beautiful woman with long brown hair and eyes the color of the sea. He could remember her smile, hear her laugh in the very corners of his mind. Sometimes, when the West Wind blew warm and friendly through flowers, he was sure she was whispering to him even now, though he knew she was very far away and no longer drew breath to her body.

Tonight he could feel her watching him from the Other World. She had told him to come here tonight to seek communion with the Spirits, a command Kalasana had confirmed. He didn't know the reason but he knew to obey her advise. The beautiful woman had never once led him astray, and he had faith she would not this night. So he had come just before sundown and built his small fire, made a pitcher of cool tea and caught a nice prairie bird for his dinner. Then he had settled in to commune with the winds and the flowers, the birds and the creatures of the ground. He had settled in to wait.

Now dawn was edging closer, the beauty of the Night Mother starting to grow pale as the Father of Day began his journey into the heavens. Not long now and He would begin showering his warmth and life down on all things, giving nourishment to that which would one day nourish the bodies of his faithful children. Once Father arrived he would need to go back to the village again, to perform his duties to his family and the clan; but if the beautiful woman said, tonight he would return to his vigil.

The night had been mostly peaceful. He had listened to the crickets and cicadas sing their songs and had watched as a large white night bird hunted the mice of the meadow. At one point a small pack of laughing dogs cavorted across the plain, chattering to each other in their high-pitched ways, making him laugh at their antics. They must have been young, he thought, and recently well-fed, to be so casual in their travel, less hunting than playing; they had reminded him of the children of the tribe after a harvest feast or the return of a successful hunting party. And now, for the last few hours, all the world had seemed to be sleeping but for himself, blissfully silent and at complete peace.

He waited a bit longer, until the Father of Day had begun his ascent, casting his long arms over the landscape and chasing the Night Mother into her hiding place. When the warmth of the Father touched his cheek he smothered his small fire and collected his things, preparing to return to the tribe.

Suddenly he felt a rumbling and heard the sound of thunder. His eyes turned to the circle of the Great Mystic Ocean, amazed to see the color of fire appearing at the points. When seven lights had appeared, the Ocean spit forth a wide white wave before settling into a beautiful shimmering spanse just as Torga-lana had described from the day it bore him to her. Fear consumed him momentarily, wondering if the beautiful woman meant him to step through the Ocean once again; however, she had never mentioned any such thing and he was loath to make such a decision without guidance from the Spirits.

He watched in amazement for a long while as the Ocean glimmered in the rising sun, and then his eyes widened as two figures tumbled through. They rolled down the steps that lead to the Great Ocean and collapsed onto the grass, both looking up to the Ocean as it winked out of existence again. The two figures frozen in place on the ground, looking up at the now-empty ring which had given them birth.

Now he understood. He had been sent to greet his new brothers.

+ + + + + + +

"Shit."

JD rolled over at the muttered word, and his eyes quickly found the Stargate. The now closed Stargate. It took a moment for it to sink in that they had actually fallen right through the wormhole.

His first trip through the gate, and he had been too busy throwing punches to really notice.

"That was... uh..." The guy JD still thought of as Major Donovan was staring at the big ring, his jaw practically in his lap. JD had to grin; in all the time the guy had been on base, he probably had never actually witnessed a true gate activation. After all, Hammond made a point of being at every embarkation and arrival possible, and when he wasn't available either Brigadier General Drudge or Colonel Giabene was on hand. Since the intruder would not have risked an encounter with any of three men who were said to know every face on base, he would never have had the opportunity to be in the observation room during any gate activation.

And on his first real view of it, he had gone through it.

"What a rush, huh?" JD said, unable to contain his enthusiasm. "Cold, but that's apparently only the first few times until your body adjusts to the experience. Sam said it took about five times before she adjusted to it."

"Uh-huh," the man replied, simply staring. JD chuckled; he had never gotten to see someone's response to their first gate trip before. Obviously, all earth people had their reactions off-world, he had never seen one of their visitors arriving on their first time either. It was kind of cool.

"You okay?" The man turned his head to him, green eyes blinking rather owlishly. JD marveled at how funny it was that the man he had looked upon as the epitome of smooth confidence and assurance currently looked like he had been smacked in the face with a flying pie. "You feeling any upset stomach or headache, anything like that?" All those conversations with Sam, having her redescribe her experiences over and over, were coming to fruition as he checked his own physical being and that of his unintentional companion. "Hey, you okay?"

"Uh... yeah, I guess." The man shook himself, visibly pulling himself together. "How about you?"

"I'm fine," JD shrugged. He watched as the man's hand moved to his stomach and touched delicately. "Uh, yeah, sorry about that."

The man's expression shifted slightly, confused for a moment before following JD's gaze to his stomach. He then looked up with a slightly sheepish grin. "No you're not," he said wryly. "Nor should you be. You were doing you level best to capture me and defend your position." The man rubbed his bruises gently. "Though I wouldn't have argued if you had missed a few more times. That's a mean left jab you've got going."

"I've been taking boxing lessons from Colonel O'Neill," JD grinned. He leaned back and looked around. "I can't believe we actually fell through the gate! This is incredible!"

"Uh, okay," the man said. "I suppose if it delays my arrest and summary execution, I'll agree with you. But shouldn't we go back? I mean, no offense, but the coordinates I had the computer dial were one of those uncharted planets you were talking about, so we have no idea how safe this place is."

"PXA-460," JD nodded. "And while you're right on us having no idea how safe this place is, we can't go back."

"I see a DHD," the man said, glancing at the stone device off to the right.

"Guess no one ever explained to you about GDOs, huh?" JD sighed as he leaned back in the grass. "The Earth Stargate has an Iris made of pure titanium; when closed, it is less than three micrometers from the event horizon. If we don't transmit an accepted code through the wormhole prior to going through, the SGC will close the iris and deny us access." JD made a face. "Splat. Bug on a windshield."

"Ouch." The man leaned back on his elbows. "So, any ideas?"

"Wait here," JD shrugged. "They'll send someone through to get us. I mean, Jack's gonna want to ring your neck personally, and Hammond's gonna want to know who you work for."

"You don't think I'm in this alone?"

"Nah, you don't seem the type," JD shrugged.

The man cocked his head, frowning. "The type?"

"The stuff you were collecting, the information... it's not really anything that in individual or a private company could make use of," JD said. "I figure you have to be working for the NID."

"NID?"

"Probably Maybourne's division," JD nodded. "Little worm. They want control of the Stargate program. We had a thing a while back where Sam's team rescued a bunch of people from an advance civilization whose planet suffered volcanic destruction. Maybourne got them transferred to his authority so he could lock them away and use them for forced intellectual labor; he wanted to force them to make new weapons.. After that Hammond overhauled the entire security set-up at the base to make sure Maybourne and his people couldn't get any information without his approval - or at least knowledge."

"What good will all this information do Maybourne anyway?" the man asked. "I mean, all I found was stuff he already knew about how the system operates, and a lot of stuff on archeological finds. I can understand them wanting me to set up the remote hacking devices so they can keep an eye on anything you might bring back in the future, but Maybourne made such a stink about getting copies of Doctor Jackson's and Captain Carter's investigation notes... I don't get that."

"Well, Sam's done tons of studies on the science of the gate itself, but the NID has access to all of that," JD said, thinking. "As for Doctor Jackson...I can't think of anything right now, but I bet he can." The young man looked carefully at his companion. "You realize if you go back you'll be arrested as a threat to national security."

"Yes, I know." The man studied him carefully. "Just curiously, why would you warn me of such a thing?"

JD shrugged. "Well, you're a thief and a liar, but you don't seem like that bad a guy. I mean, the whole time I was taking you out, you didn't throw more than five punches total. You weren't doing anything but trying to get away from me, when you could have cleaned my clock and made a clean get-away. You went out of your way to avoid hurting me." JD frowned. "How come?"

The fake major sighed. "Look, kid, I'm a professional hacker and a con artist, and in general make my livelihood by taking things that don't belong to me. But I make a point not to harm innocent people unless they deliberately give me the opportunity. If you chose to sit down at a poker table with me, I wouldn't hesitate to clean you out completely. If you were dumb enough to open your home to me, I'd pocket your watches and rings without hesitation. But this was you following orders, just doing your job. I was a senior officer - well, so you thought, anyway - and you followed your military training to the letter. It felt... kinda cheap taking advantage of you. I'm not proud of it."

The man chuckled to himself. "God help me, I feel bad about the fact that my actions could get you in trouble. You're smart and talented; you've got a real future ahead of you." The man gave JD a fond appraisal. "I like you, kid." The man looked away quickly. "Of course, if you repeat that to anyone I'll use my evil genius to clean out your bank account and erase your school records. Instead of being a half-semester from your Masters degree in astrophysics and a few more to computer engineering you'll have barely passed high school with a C minus average."

JD grinned. "Got it." JD climbed to his feet and watched as the other man did the same. "Well, it will probably take at least an hour for them to retrieve the dialing coordinates from the computer, put together a retrieval team, send a MALP through for the standard recon prelim, and then send through the full team." He glanced at the sky. "From the looks of it, it's just after dawn here. We might as well find a place to get comfortable and wait."

"You're probably right," the man agreed. "Probably out of the sun would be a good idea. We don't know how hot this place can get, or if the UV rays are more or less dangerous than on Earth."

JD nodded and looked around. "Those trees over there will probably do. Like I said, it should only be an hour or so." He glanced at his companion, who indicated his agreement, and they started walking towards the shade. "By the way, what should I call you? I mean, no offense, but I'm not about to continue calling you Major Donovan."

"Hm, point. Why don't you call me Ezra? It's as good as any of my other names."

+ + + + + + +

"Davis just confirmed the coordinates," Daniel said as he hurried into the locker room. Jack looked up from lacing his boots with a raised eyebrow. "Apparently the program Donovan ran buried them only one layer under the usual system information, so it didn't take long. Are we ready to go?"

"Just about," Jack nodded. "Hammond's agreed to let Chris' team join us, so Josiah went to get Doctor Jackson."

"Josiah's gone to get me?" Daniel asked slowly, causing Jack to chuckle. For such a brilliant man, sometimes Daniel was amusingly slow on the uptake.

"Nathan Jackson," Buck Wilmington said from the far corner as he adjusted his gun clip. "The doc from the hospital."

"Chris has offered him a position on SG-7," Jack explained. "Once he and Josiah get here we'll be ready to go."

"A medical doctor on a field team?" Daniel asked. "I mean, I'm all for the medics having more field experience, but as a permanent part of a team? I mean... is Larabee that dangerous a leader?"

Jack exchanged a merry look with Buck. "Well, that's a question too loaded to cover accurately in the span of five minutes. But the fast answer is no. Jackson also has active military experience. The combination could prove useful in certain circumstances."

Daniel nodded just as Chris entered the room with Sam. "We're ready to go as soon as Josiah and Nathan get here," Chris said. "The MALP sent back clear readings of a lovely morning on an arid plain similar to Nebraska or Kansas. Long flat grasslands, moderate temperatures, good breathing air, Earth-style atmosphere and radiation levels. Should be a cakewalk."

"I've got their packs ready, so they just need to suit up and we're gone," Buck replied. "What's the plan?"

"The MALP didn't show them in the immediate vicinity of the gate," Sam said, obviously displeased with that fact.

"They probably just moved to a more secure location," Jack countered. "Sam, I know the kid's never done any field work, but he's been dropping hints for months now. If I know your cousin, he's committed to memory every ounce of tactical strategy ever discussed in class, manual or mission briefing."

"Yeah, he's probably just got himself to a defendable position in case of hostiles," Buck agreed. "I'm sure he's fine."

Sam nodded reluctantly, wavering between belief and worry. The men around her exchanged glances, and Jack watched as Buck stepped over to her. The big man said something low and quiet that he couldn't hear... something that caused the worry to lessen in Sam's eyes. Whatever it was, for that Jack was grateful.

It was less than twenty minutes later that they were standing in the gate room as the vortex flashed out toward them. Having never seen it before, both Buck and Josiah were wide-eyed with astonishment; their most experienced teammates were only a touch less so. Jack found himself smiling at their expressions, knowing he still wore it himself from time to time.

"That never gets old," he murmured to Sam, who despite her concerns grinned back at him. It was like seeing a gorgeous sunset or the majesty of the mountains all over again; some things just were amazing every single time.

"You're right about that," Daniel said over his shoulder. Jack caught the anticipation in the linguist's eyes, and chuckled.

"Alright kids, let's go," he said briskly, stepping up to take point. Out of habit, Chris Larabee stepped right next to him, which caused Jack to grin. Chris was as natural a leader as they came, and couldn't help but take the reigns no matter who else was around. "Buck, Josiah, remember to breathe out before stepping through."

"You're natural instinct when you step out on the other side will be to inhale," Sam explained. "If you don't have any room to take air in to, it will be kind of uncomfortable."

"You're also gonna be a bit cold," Chris added. "First couple of times, it's a little like jumping into the ocean in January."

"We'll leave the lights on, boys and girls," Hammond said from the control room. "Bring them home safely."

"That's the plan, sir," Jack nodded. He glanced at Chris with a wry grin. "Age before beauty, Larabee?"

"I'll agree to that," Chris chuckled. "Go ahead, I'll be right behind you."

Jack snorted and rolled his eyes, then stepped through the gate.

FOUR

"Whoo, doggie!" Buck stumbled a little as stepped out of the Stargate into the sunshine of mid-morning, grateful for the warmth that was rapidly counteracting the frigidness of initial gate travel. He felt a pair of hands on his shoulders encouraging him to sit on the steps, but it took a moment to look up into Nathan's concerned face. "Damn, that's quite the experience, ain't it?"

"Take a few deep breaths," Nathan said. "Any nausea? Dizziness?"

"I'm fine," Buck said, though the slight shaking of his voice didn't apparently do much to encourage the medic. Across the steps he saw Josiah sitting with his head between his knees, Daniel and Sam kneeling next to him talking quietly. "Josiah okay?"

"Doing alright," the big man replied, his voice equally shaky. "Reminds me of a trip on peyote after too much of the Lakota's homemade gin."

"It's a little rougher on us elders the first time or two," Jack grinned. "First time I stepped out I promptly puked my guts on the floor of an ancient Egyptian pyramid on the other side. Kawalsky never let me forget it."

"Any sign of JD or the imposter?" Sam asked. Buck noticed that Jack and Chris had stepped out to the front corners of the gate's location, while Teal'c had taken a position to cover their backs. Buck glanced around, seeing nothing besides themselves, the gate, and a big open grassy plain. Reminded him a little of Chris' home state of Indiana, actually. Big and flat, and mostly empty.

"Nothing at the moment," Chris answered. "But seeing how the nearest shelter looks to be that tree line over there, I figure that's where they would have gone."

"So let's start walking," Jack said. "I'd like to be home for the Cubs-Diamondbacks game tonight, and it starts in just under five hours."

"Aren't you from Chicago?" Nathan asked.

"Yeah," Jack replied carefully. "Your point?"

"Nothing," Nathan shook his head. "Just didn't realize you were such a masochist." The black man grinned as he followed Buck who had started trees.

Jack scowled as Chris laughed. "Good thing he's on your team," Jack growled to the navy man. "That sort of insubordination wouldn't be tolerated on SG-1."

"Insubordination my ass," Chris said brightly. "Face it, O'Neill, the Cubs suck. The truth shall set you free."

They continued exchanging light-hearted barbs on the long walk to the ridge, which took nearly an hour as they learned the ridge was a good bit further away than it had first appeared. Sam, Daniel and Josiah argued several scientific reasons for the illusion which completely confounded Jack, but by the look Chris' eyes apparently the navy man could follow. Meanwhile Teal'c and Nathan appeared to be in a discussion about something that was fascinating to the medic - as usual, Jack couldn't tell if Teal'c was interested, bored, or comatose. Sam and Daniel both chided him that the Jaffa was actually quite expressive if you knew what to look for, but after a year hanging out with the big guy Jack still couldn't tell if he was even awake half the time.

It was Teal'c that called them to a halt in their trek, however. A sudden, commanding hand gesture that caused all seven of his companions to freeze in their tracks. "We are being watched," he said factually in a soft tone. "I cannot tell if there is hostile intent."

Jack glanced at Sam before indicating that she and Daniel fan left. At Teal'c's confirmation, he gestured for Buck and Nathan to fan far right, and for Chris to move ahead with Teal'c. Josiah dropped back to find his flank and the two of them dropped to a crouch in the tall grasses while Teal'c and Chris cautiously moved forward. Every member of their company had instantly checked their radios were operational, a fact that had Jack smiling grimly. There was comfort in the fact that a man like Josiah, who hadn't seem field action in nearly fifteen years, and Nathan, who was more physician than combatant, could so easily fall into the military mind set. They were already forming a cohesive working unit, which proved Chris' choices were sound.

"I see signs of struggle," Teal'c voice came over the ear receiver. "I fear the two Tauri have encountered at least a dozen members of the race of this world."

"Do we know what that race is?" Daniel's voice inquired.

"I am not familiar with this world, Daniel Jackson."

"The footprints would appear human," Chris' voice interjected. "Shape and size would be of several large men. Looks like they're wearing moccasins or something similar."

"Indians?" Sam asked.

"It would make sense," Daniel said. "Once the Egyptian gate was buried, we know the Goa'uld made at least one attempt to use the Antarctic gate. And since Hathor's sarcophagus was found in Mexico, it's reasonable that the Goa'uld might have taken people from the native North American cultures at some point."

"Okay, but are we talking a warrior tribe like the Comanche, or are we talking a friendlier bunch like the Cherokee?" Buck asked. "I ain't too fond of the idea of gettin' scalped my first day on the job, ya know?"

"Can't tell from the footprints alone, Buck," Chris said. "Although the fact that the footprints of our dynamic duo seem to disappear suddenly doesn't sound like the result of a peaceful encounter. On the other hand, we don't have two bodies either, so..."

"So now what?"

"They could have been taken prisoner out of fear," Sam suggested hopefully. "Maybe they were essentially trespassing."

"Which would mean we are, too," Josiah said. "Teal'c, can you tell how many are watching us?"

"It would appear just the one at the moment, Josiah Sanchez. He is hiding in the rocks to the far right in front of us. He is most expertly camouflaged; I almost did not see him."

"Scout?" Nathan suggested.

Jack shook his head. "Alright, for now let's just go about our business and let him watch. If he approaches us, we'll deal with it then."

"I believe the captors took their prey in the direction of the river," Teal'c said, cocking his head left. "We should follow their path if we intend to retrieve Airman Dunne and the intruder."

"Agreed," Chris said. "What say we all meet up at that big tree with the knot about six feet up?"

Jack judged the distance as about two hundred feet ahead. "Everyone keep your head down, just in case our scout decides he wants to start evening up the odds in his favor."

The group moved stealthily through the trees until they converged at the appointed sight. A quick head count confirmed that everyone had arrived, and Jack glanced over his shoulder back toward the hiding place of their watcher.

"He is no longer there, O'Neill," Teal'c advised. "Though I must admit, I did not see when he moved from his position."

Jack shook his head; the guy had to be damn good to avoid Teal'c's keen senses. "Well, so far he doesn't seem interested in more than a show. Let's keep moving. Maybe he'll get bored and go home."

+ + + + + + +

Chris tossed another glance over his shoulder. It was a bit unnerving to know there was someone out there watching you, and even a Jaffa as skilled as Teal'c had been unable to keep tabs on him.

They had been walking for nearly three hours now, following Teal'c who was following the trail of the people who had apparently abducted their wayward scientist and his quarry. What was supposed to be a fast and easy retrieval operation had fast bloomed into a probable first-contact situation with hostage takers; not exactly what Chris had envisioned for his team's first real mission, but then this was Stargate travel. What was it Doctor Jackson had said? Expect the impossible, the improbable, the uniquely unlikely and the perfectly ordinary all at the same time. What looks like a piece of stone could be a living entity.

Well, at least Jack was right - it wasn't boring.

Jack called for a break at the bend in the river they'd been following, telling everyone to grab a snack and some water and sit for a few minutes. Chris gratefully dropped onto a soft-looking patch of grass and stretched out his legs; he was hardly out of shape by any means, but he also hadn't done a three-hour hike through uneven woods for a while either. Buck appeared to be doing much better, as did Josiah, surprisingly. But then the big man had been conversing with Teal'c at the barbeque about the similarities of several Earth martial arts programs to some Jaffan discipline, so perhaps Chris shouldn't be surprised really. Nathan was holding his own, but the doctor looked like this was a bit more than he was used to as well. Of course, SG-1 had been doing stuff like this for a year now with regularity, so they all looked just dandy.

Jack dropped beside him and let out a soft huff.

"I'm getting too old for this," the colonel sighed. "Three hours traipsing over rocks and branches and underbrush is just not what my knees want to be doing these days."

Chris grinned. "And here I thought you had called this break on my account. Looks like I'm not in the shape I thought I was."

"You'll get it back pretty quick," Jack shrugged. "The knees never get it back. Nowadays it's stock in Ben Gay and Myoflex for me."

"Eh, you're doing okay in my eyes," Chris chuckled. "So long as you can still run away from a bad guy, you're in good shape."

"That I can do," Jack grinned. He glanced at the sky, then at his watch. "Damn, no way we're making the first pitch."

"You're hardly going to miss anything. Sosa may swing nice, but Rodriguez has a fast ball that will put him away every time."

"Geez, you've been living in Arizona for less than two years and you've already mutated?" Jack groused. "I thought you were a diehard Tigers fan?"

"Nah, my dad was the Tigers fan, I just rooted for them because it was easier than fighting with him," Chris grinned. "I always took after my mom when it came to baseball."

"Your mom?" Jack narrowed his eyes. "Your mom was from... Oh dear god! You're a Cards fan? Heathen! Sycophant! Spawn of Satan!" Chris laughed aloud as Jack held out his crossed fingers to ward off evil.

"What can I say? I was a mama's boy."

Jack shook his head. "And to think I recommended you to Hammond. I obviously didn't do enough homework."

"Too late now, bucko," Chris retorted. "I'm here to stay. But don't feel bad. Every time my team creams yours, I'll be sure to send flowers."

"Demon," Jack hissed. Jack glanced at the sky again. "It look like rain to you?"

Chris glanced up. "Hard to say. On Earth in Arizona or Colorado I would say likely, but here, who knows?" He stood and stretched. "Take a few more moments; I'm gonna walk up to the bend and take a peek around it, see what there is to see."

"That works," Jack nodded. "Keep your head down, though. Take Teal'c with you."

Chris nodded and climbed to his feet. He hated to admit that if he sat too long after walking so far he was probably going to stiffen up. He gestured for the Jaffa to follow him and was surprised when Nathan stepped up too. "Nate, take a load off. I'm just going about a hundred yards down river."

"Nah, I need to keep moving. It's been a while since I did a field mission, and I'm realizing my morning jogs aren't quiet what I guess I need them to be."

"Same here," Chris grinned. "Alright, let's go."

The trio moved along the river bank, stepping carefully on the slippery stones. They reached the bend in about ten minutes and Chris peered cautiously around the large rock formation that served as the corner barrier. "Nothing," he told his companions. "Just more rocks, trees, and shrubs."

"It would appear we still have a ways to travel," Teal'c added, taking his own look. "The path of footprints continue on at an even spacing, indicating we are not close to our destination."

"Man, these people have stamina," Nathan noted. "Not just the fact that they're walking all this way, apparently at a decent speed no less, but they're carrying two prisoners with them. I sure hope we don't have to fight them."

"I would agree," Teal'c said. "They are fleet of foot and strong of back. Should they have cunning to match they will be formidable adversaries."

"I hear ya," Chris sighed. "Let's get back to the group and saddle up. Hopefully Josiah and Daniel can come up with some way to approach them that won't royally piss them off."

"I would go a ways further," Teal'c said firmly. "I wish to ensure the person who has been watching us is not laying in wait for our arrival."

"Alright, but don't go too far ahead, and keep radio contact." Teal'c nodded and walked away, following the edge of the bank.

Chris glanced around as he started back down the river, marveling at how similar to Earth's Midwestern forests this area was. The trees looked like spruce or pine - he had never been good with his botany - and he was sure he saw ground plants that looked like his mother's ferns and the ivy that annoyed the hell out of his dad. There were flowers in the underbrush that looked awfully familiar - certain little pink petals and russet bursts that reminded him of his sister's repeated failed attempts at a window box. He looked up; the sky was the same delicate blue that he would see out his bedroom window when he was growing up, peeking out from the lush green leaves. The occasional wispy cloud drifted in that blue, just a decoration to add variety to the view. Chris shook his head; if he didn't know better, he would never believe he wasn't on Earth.

He turned when he realized Nathan wasn't directly behind him and chuckled. Nathan had paused as the scientist in him was drawn to a collection of flowering plants, stooping down next poke at them with a pen. The physician was completely absorbed in whatever he was observing that he didn't even hear when Chris called his name. It reminded Chris of some of the stories Jack had told him of Daniel, how the man could become fascinated with some minor thing that to everyone else appeared pointless. Farther up the river, Teal'c was examining the rocks along the river for things most likely only a Jaffa could see.

Chris paused on a small incline to watch Nathan exploring the small buds with a look that mixed awe and scientific evaluation, and he smiled. Chris shook his head; looked like he had found his own Jackson to fill the role.

His smile was cut short when a body dropped out of the trees.

Nathan's shout was muffled as the man went face-down in the grass with a heavy thud. Chris shouted into his radio for assistance, knowing that Teal'c had made it a good distance ahead of them. His panic rose as he saw another body drop from the trees... and another. And then he was on the ground himself, a heavy weight pinning his shoulders to the ground.

And then the weight dropped heavily and fell off to the side. He pushed out from under and rolled to a crouch, catching a glance out of the enemy body lying in a lump at his side, resembled pictures Chris had seen his son's history books on the old west, akin to the Sioux Indians at Custer's last stand. He had no idea what had cased his own attacker to fall, but he didn't have time to figure it out; Nathan was now under attack from two men similar men. The Indians were dressed in garb fitting what Chris would have expected in a raiding party, but they seemed rather an odd target for such men. Maybe this was just an abduction of opportunity?

A noise behind him had him rolling without warning, just missing a blow to the head by a large stick-wielding brave. He lashed out with his foot, catching the brave behind the knee and sending him tumbling to the ground. Another kick, this time to the head, sent the brave sprawling. Chris got to his knees again,, trying to get his bearings. Teal'c was nowhere to be seen, and Nathan was dangling barely conscious from the arms of two warriors. They were surrounded by at least five warrior braves with various weapons, primitive though they might be.

All in all... not good.

And then the braves started dropping like flies.

First the one to the left of Nate, then the one to the right. By the time the one struggling next to Chris fell the others were yelling to each other and running for the hills. Nathan landed with a bit of a flop but otherwise alright; as Chris watched he rolled on his side and slowly sat up. Buck, Daniel and Sam charged through the clearing, taking Chris' waving hand as guidance to continue on past him, especially since he could see Jack racing up the hill with Josiah bringing up the rear. Buck stopped by Chris while Sam raced with Daniel to Nathan's side before leaving one Jackson to the other and racing after the enemy. Jack followed after Sam, leaving Josiah to check on the three fallen attackers.

"They're out cold," the big man reported. "Assuming they're human and I'm feeling their pulse, of course."

"They appear human," Buck nodded.

"So did the Nox," Daniel countered. Buck considered for a moment before conceding the point.

"Well, whatever, their pulse is slow and steady and their eyes are slightly dilated, indicating a drugged state," Josiah said. "It looks like they were hit with some sort of tranq darts." The man held a small thin wedge of white about the size of a toothpick.

"Must be potent," Chris said as Buck helped him to his feet. "Those guys literally dropped in their tracks. One minute they're holding Nate back, the next they're face down in the dirt."

"It is the tears of the kohana plant," a voice informed them, floating down from the trees above. "They will sleep until well into the nighttime."

Chris looked up, as did everyone, but could not see the speaker. "I am sorry I did not foresee they would attack you as they did your brothers. I did not think they would be willing to go against your superior numbers. But then, they did not really, did they?"

"No, I guess they didn't," Chris said, rubbing his neck.

"We're grateful for your help," Daniel said, glancing at Josiah. "We would be honored if you would reveal yourself so we may show our appreciation personally. Among our people it is customary to offer thanks face to face."

There was a moment of silence, and then a soft whooshing noise preceded the appearance of a man stepping from behind a tree. This man too was dressed as an Indian, but his clothes were notably different from the others. The others wore dark color pants and shirts with many feathers and much fur sewn onto the edges. They had worn knee-high boots and had their hair braided back, with beads and decorations entwined in the long black locks. Their bare arms and faces had been painted with various colorful designs and tattoos, and they had carried a variety of weapons from knives and staffs to sharp tomahawks and spears.

This young man's pale colored leather pants were plain, and he wore soft moccasins rather than war boots. His left wrist wore a thick gold bracelet while his right upper arm wore a similar band. His chest was bare, except for the strap which ran from shoulder to hip to hold his thin quiver against his back. A bow was slung over his back in similar fashion, and at his hip hung a reed about six inches in length next to a thick-looking leather pouch. A sheath for a hunting knife was strapped to his thigh, and a smaller dagger was hooked across the front of his pants where a belt buckle might go. His long hair was light brown, worn long and free around his shoulders as it fell to his midback, with the exception of a single thin braid on either side of his face. Chris pegged him at an Earth age of about twenty-five or so.

The young man considered each of the Earthlings with calm blue eyes. "You are from the Great Mystic Ocean?"

"Great Mystic Ocean?" Daniel repeated, glancing at Josiah. "Oh, yes. But we call it the Stargate. We come through the gate from a place called Earth."

"Stargate?" The young man frowned. "But there are no stars."

Josiah chuckled. "Well, we've never been accused of being the most logical race. You said these others took our brothers?"

"The two who came before you, yes?" Josiah nodded, and the Indian nodded in reply. "I saw them come this morning, just as the Father of Day began to awaken. I thought to greet them by the Ocean, but they moved away and went to sit among the trees. It took me much longer to get there from where I had been sitting on the cliff above the valley. By the time I arrived at their camp, they had already been taken by the Muy-otan."

"Muy-otan?" Daniel asked.

"They who dwell in the dark hills," the Indian explained patiently. "Long have they been at odds with my people. Your brothers would have been safe had they remained on the meadow, but once they stepped into the trees they were on the common ground. I do not know why the Muy-otan would wish to take them, but they are not always a most logical race either."

Josiah chuckled at the young man's use of his own phrase. "Most humans aren't, I'm afraid."

The group looked up at the sound of their comrades returning, looking rather winded. "They got away from us," Jack groused sourly, puffing just a tad. "I see you caught at least the one, though."

"Actually, this young man came to our aid," Josiah replied. "He used his blow darts to take down the attackers."

"I am sorry I did not act sooner," the young man said, bowing his head. "I only wished to climb to a better vantage point from which to aim, but in doing so gave the ookane time to damage your friends."

"Just a little winded is all," Nathan said, waving off the man's contrition. "If it gave you the aim to take them down quickly and not have them fight back, I can stand a few bruises."

"Ditto," Chris said.

Josiah stepped in again, to get off the sore subject for the Indian. "My name is Josiah Sanchez. This is Daniel Jackson, Commander Buck Wilmington, Captain Chris Larabee and Captain Nathan Jackson. That over there is Captain Samantha Carter, and Colonel Jack O'Neill."

"I am called Vin-ko-taneck-o-pentay," the young man said, taking Josiah's offered hand. "I am of the clan Koeai of the people of the Corel-ain. You are most welcome to our land, travelers."

"Well, not by the Muy-otan," Chris said, offering his own hand for shaking. "Thanks for saving our necks."

"Yeah, nice job that," Jack agreed. He glanced around the group. "Uh, where's Teal'c?"

Chris groaned. "You didn't see him?" Jack shook his head. "Damn. He was scouting ahead of us on the river. I thought maybe you caught up with him and he was checking the bad guys' trail."

"We never saw him," Sam said.

"The Muy-otan may have taken him," their new Indian friend said darkly. "A warrior of such size and ability would be a capture of great value, proving their cunning and courage."

"Great, just great," Jack sighed, wiping the back of his neck. "We come here to rescue two, and instead we lose a third. This is NOT a good day."

"Vin-ko-taneck-o-pentay, do you think you can help us rescue our brothers?" Daniel asked. "We have come specifically to bring them home with us."

"It will not be easy," the young man frowned. "The Muy-otan are difficult people, and their camp moves often. Perhaps we should consult with my father on the matter. He has long had dealings with their people and may have insights I am not yet wise enough to see."

"Great, there goes the ball game," Jack muttered. "Alright, Daniel, this is your expertise. Shall we go powwow with pops?"

"It would be the most reasonable," Daniel said. "The elders of the tribe may know the best way to approach the Muy-otan. Similar to when we were on Simarka and Moughal helped us get Sam back."

"Yeah, that involved a fight to the death," Jack reminded his friend. "Hopefully we can avoid that this time?"

"Ideally we also don't have to trade an M60 for their freedom either," Sam added. "And did I ever mention how not thrilling it was that my price went from four hundred weights of gold to a gun?"

"They were putting a price on your head and you actually cared what it was?" Nathan asked, incredulous.

"I'm not saying I was happy with any of it," Sam countered. "But let's face it, if you're going to hear people bargaining for you, wouldn't you like to be worth a lot of gold over one gun?"

"I suppose pointing out that the gun was considered highly prized and valuable for its magical powers won't improve things," Daniel said under his breath.

"Give it up, Danny, you can't win this argument no matter how you slice it," Jack sighed. "Okay, Vin-tampa... Vin-peko... how about Vin, can I call you Vin? Let's head off to the elders and play it by ear from there."

"This is agreeable," Vin said. "Follow in my footsteps, one at a time, and we will make better time. The Great Father will soon be asleep and it will be easy to stumble in his darkness if you are not familiar."

The young man started off through the woods back the way they had come, the various SG members falling into single-file step behind him.

+ + + + + + +

Rica-talma stood watching the Heavenly Lights, considering. All day he had watched for his son's return, but the boy had not been seen. Torga-lana was nervous, as were their daughters who cherished the boy's easy-going ways. The sons of their blood were angry, feeling the Sunatay was being neglectful of the family who had given him a place, but Rica-talma knew better. Vin-ko-taneck-o-pentay would never shirk his duties without due cause. The youth had said he would return at dawn, and the old man was sure he would have done just that if he could. Which meant that something had happened to change the boy's plans.

"He will return soon," a voice said over his shoulder. He turned to see a craggy old woman wrapped in a colorful blanket hobbling toward him, leaning heavily on her walking staff. "But this will be the last night he spends with us for many seasons."

"You have seen this?" Rica-talma asked.

"I have seen this," the woman nodded. "It is why I told him to visit the bluff last darkness. It is time, my child. Your son must return to the people of his mother to fulfill his destiny. It is time for him to remember his own tribe."

"I am not ready for him to go," the man sighed. The crone chuckled as she put a comforting hand on his arm.

"No father ever is," she said simply. She leaned on her staff as she lifted her eyes. "But he has grand adventures ahead of him, Rica-talma. He is to go among the Heavenly Lights and see many things we do not even imagine. This I have been shown. He will be the greatest warrior our people have ever known, and he will help to fight a war that is protecting our kind even though we do not know it at this time."

"I believe your words, Honored Mother," the man replied. "But it does not make my heart lighter. I shall not wish to see my wife's face when I must tell her she will lose her child. Nor his sisters. They will make war on me!"

The crone cackled. "Ah, foolish man, then you must bribe me to do the telling while you yourself run and hide with the wisdom of your age and position!"

"I offer you my eldest in marriage," Rica-talma teased. "And a dozen warm furs for your wedding bed."

"I will take your eldest and your next born, and will need two dozen furs for two separate beds. I am old, but being woman I have far more stamina than just one boy!"

The two laughed together, their voices drifting across the plain easily on this night in the Season of the Dawn. When they stopped again it was to listen to the sounds of life coming from their camp - the crackle of the evening fires, the chatter of those found in discussion, the laughter of the children in final play before slumber. These were the sounds of peaceful life, sounds which said there was no hardship to be found among their people for the meanwhile. These were good sounds.

They were interrupted by the calling of a young boy, one of the village eyes, running and shouting to announce visitors. Vin-ko-taneck-o-pentay had returned... and apparently he had brought guests.

+ + + + + + +

Chris watched as the villagers came out to greet them; there had to be about a hundred of them. He could easily tell the differences between clans - some people, like Vin, wore gold bands on their right arms and left wrists, while another group wore headbands of black leather with a red stone in the center. A third group wore a green ribbon woven into their hair on the same side, and a fourth wore a long silver band that coiled up each forearm. Chris could count at least ten different clans, each with about seven members; some had a few more, some a few less. But in each clan there appeared to be men and women, children and elderly. Absently he wondered who determined how a clan was devised, when a new one spawned from an existing one...

Perhaps Josiah would know.

Vin was promptly engulfed by two lovely girls in their late teens and a woman in her early fifties - family, Chris assessed. Behind them three boys - two older than the girls and one younger - stood off to the side, looking irritated if Chris was any judge. It looked as though Vin and the oldest boy were probably about the same age. Once the women had smothered their lost son with kisses and hugs, the oldest boy stepped in to offer Vin his arm which Vin clasped with a solemn expression to match his brother's wary gaze.

"We wondered at your absence, brother," the boy said. "You told Father you would return at break of day, and that time has long passed."

"I was witness to much wonder this morn," Vin told his brother. "I will tell all I have seen once Father has arrived."

"And so I have, my son." The deep voice announced the arrival of an older man dressed in slightly finer clothes than the rest of the tribe. "My heart worried for your absence, Vin-ko-taneck-o-pentay."

"Forgive me, Father; all shall be made clear in short passing." Vin dropped to his knee before the man, who laid a gentle hand on the brave's head and stroked the brown hair lovingly. Chris frowned to notice that the people of Vin's tribe closely resembled the Muy-otan in coloring and complexion; Vin appeared to be the only Caucasian-appearing person around. Curious.

"Father, I present to you the people of Earth." Vin stood and stepped behind his father, gesturing for the foreign warriors to approach. "They have come from the Great Mystic Ocean this day. Their leader is Colonel Jack O'Neill."

Jack stepped up to Vin's father and extended his hand. The old man glanced at his son before hesitantly taking the offered greeting. "I am Rica-talma, leader of the clan Koeai, of the Corel-ain people. I welcome you to our village, Kamo O'Neill."

"Uh, that's pronounced 'colonel'," Jack said.

Several of the Indians laughed as Vin shook his head. "Kamo, Colonel. It means 'honored brother' in our language."

"Ah," Jack said. "Sorry, my bad. Nice to be here." He gestured toward his group. "May I present my team. Captain Larabee, Commander Wilmington, Captain Carter, Doctor Sanchez, Captain Jackson and Doctor Jackson."

"No relation," Nathan quipped lightly, getting a few chuckles from his teammates.

Daniel stepped up and bowed slightly to the older man, a gesture Sam and Josiah imitated, causing the rest of them to do the same. "We are privileged to enjoy your company," he said. "Your son brought great honor to your people today when he saved our lives."

The old man looked to Vin, who bowed his head respectfully. "The Muy-otan took two of their brothers this morning. These followed the Muy-otan's path along the Biting River to the Turn where they were also attacked and now a third has been taken."

"Your son's intervention kept us from all falling victim," Nathan said. "He saved my life in particular, for which I am very grateful."

"He was very brave," Sam added. "He showed wisdom in his tactics."

Chris refrained from smiling; apparently the team had been listening to Josiah's muttered lecture into the radio about buttering up the tribal elders. Vin's father puffed out his chest with pride, thought the look in his eyes had Chris suspecting the man was doing it more for show than because he was falling for the flattery.

"We now seek your guidance, good Father," Vin said. "They wish to retrieve their brothers from the ookanes. I have told them you would offer the most knowledgeable council in how to proceed."

"Indeed," the old man nodded. "Many seasons have I dealt with their kind." The man snorted indignantly. "They are a quarrelsome breed, but I have had success in times passed. Come, we must feed our wayward son, and I suspect my wife shall insist on feeding you as well."

"It would be rude not to, my husband," the woman who had fussed over Vin said in a reproving tone. "Besides, they are all so pale and sickly looking, a healthy meal would do them good." She gestured to her daughters. "Run and tell the wives we have guests to put to the table. I shall be along shortly, once I have seen my son to his nunkaro." She cast Vin a disapproving look. "Boy needs a good bath," she declared, causing the young man to blush deeply and his brothers to laugh. The woman turned a suspicious eye on the two Indian boys. "You laugh, tumakai? Then you shall bring the water from the well for his bath. Hotay!"

The two boys looked thoroughly chided as they dashed for the other side of the camp, followed by the girls at a slower pace. Vin and his mother brought up the rear, the mother dragging her son by the strap of his quiver to the amusement of the white people. Rica-talma shook his head at his family's antics.

"Come," he said to his guests. "We must find you tents to stay in for the night so you may unburden yourselves."

"Your hospitality is most gracious," Josiah said. "I don't know that we will be able to repay your kindnesses."

"You will care for Vin-ko-taneck-o-pentay in days to come," the old man said with a firm nod. "That shall be thanks enough."

Jack exchanged a glance with Daniel, who stepped forward. "It will be our honor, sir."

The old man smiled and moved off, leaving the SG teams to trail after. Jack fell back with a signal for Daniel, Chris and Josiah to do the same. Sam, Nate and Buck took the hint and stepped forward to walk with their host, hopefully distracting him from the conversation going on behind.

"What did he mean by that?" Jack asked.

"I suppose he means Vin will be the one to lead us to the Muy-otan," Daniel shrugged, looking to Josiah for confirmation.

"Makes sense," Josiah agreed. "Rica-talma is probably too old to go off engaging the enemy. Or, perhaps it's custom that the leaders of the tribe do not go to trade or do battle."

"Possible his previous dealings with the Muy-otan were prior to becoming clan leader," Daniel nodded.

"But Vin didn't look like his eldest son," Chris said. "That one boy looked to be about a year older, didn't he? And the way Vin deferred to him..."

"True," Josiah frowned. "And isn't it curious how Vin is so much lighter in coloring than the rest of the tribe? Makes me wonder..."

"Wonder what?" Jack asked.

"Well, on earth if someone like Vin was found among an Indian tribe it would likely be that he was born to white parents and somehow ended up in the tribe."

"Either by abandonment or by raiding," Daniel nodded. "But the Koeai don't appear to be the raiding sort, do they?"

"I wouldn't say so," Josiah said. "Abandonment then. Maybe there are white people somewhere on this world?"

"I suppose we can find a way to ask at dinner," Daniel mused. "I'm more interested in their history with the Stargate. Even though it doesn't appear that they use it, it also wasn't a surprise to them that we came through."

"But they weren't afraid of us either," Josiah countered.

"So, we're assuming that at least they don't get regular Goa'uld visits?" Jack asked.

"Or if they do, maybe it's not that big a deal to them," Daniel suggested. "The Nox didn't think much about visits by the Goa'uld."

"These people don't appear very technologically advanced," Jack said.

"Neither did the Nox," Daniel replied.

"Good point." Jack scratched his chin. "Well, for now we smoke the peace pipe or whatever they want us to do and see where it gets us. At least it sounds like there's munchies involved."

"Munchies," Daniel repeated with a sigh. "They're probably laying out a special feast for us of their finest food, and Jack calls it 'munchies'."

+ + + + + + +

"Easy there, big guy."

Teal'c rolled over onto his side, trying to clear his head. It wasn't often he could be surprised, and even more rare he could be overpowered. The Indian braves had done both, however, though it had taken two of them to take him down. He had been caught unawares when they dropped from the trees as he walked along the river. He had not been more than a hundred yards from his companions, but the braves had acted quickly, connecting hard with the back of his head and rendering him unconscious. Now he was waking again, his senses telling him he was in a small enclosed space that smelled of mold. The person beside him was helping him to sit up, a help he took gladly.

"You okay, Teal'c?"

The Jaffa turned his head, recognizing the voice of Captain Carter's young cousin. "JD. I am glad you are well. They have not harmed you?"

"Not really," JD shrugged. "I mean, I guess you fought them so they knocked you out. Us, they just surrounded and let us surrender."

"The imposter is here with you?"

"That would be me," the voice attached to the helping hand said. "Ezra P. Standish, at your service. You appear to have taken a solid blow to the cranium, so you might want to take it easy for a while."

"I will be fine," Teal'c said.

"Teal'c symbiote will heal him pretty fast," JD told the man brightly. "One of the benefits of being a Jaffa is that they hardly ever get sick and they heal really easy. Cool, huh?"

"Indeed," Teal'c said. The young man's enthusiasm about his unique constitution had always baffled him, and today was no different. "I shall be well again shortly."

"Well, that's nice to know," Ezra drawled easily. "I certainly would hate having to support your considerable weight in our escape efforts." The man cocked his head, considering the Jaffa. "I assume your presence here in our lovely little cell is in fact the harbinger of impending freedom?"

Teal'c frowned at Ezra's speech, which caused JD to chuckle. "Man sure does talk funny, doesn't he?" the young airman said. "Ever since he stopped deliberately talking like an Air Force major, I can only understand about every other word his says."

"A man of breeding uses exceptional dialogue," Ezra huffed.

"A learned man can be told by the nature of his conversation," Teal'c agreed.

"Great, so you understand him?" JD sighed. "Figures an alien would be able to follow that gibberish."

"So was your capture part of a greater plan of events?" Ezra asked Teal'c, ignoring JD's grumblings. "Perhaps you are here to impart weapons and strategy?"

"I am afraid that is not the case," Teal'c said regretfully. "My capture was an unforeseen event, one I was unable to avoid. However, that I was not joined by Chris Larabee or Nathan Jackson in captivity does bode well for us."

"Captains Larabee and Jackson are here too?" JD asked.

"Team Seven accompanied Team One on this retrieval mission," Teal'c nodded.

"Cool, Chris Larabee is a legend," JD said, explaining to Ezra. "Man was a Navy SEAL for years before retiring, and has a rep as one of the biggest bad-asses on the planet. He and Jack should have us out of here lickety-split."

"And yet the biggest and most dangerous of their little party is sitting here in Indian jail with us," Ezra pointed out. "Why does this not exactly bolster my confidence?"

"If necessary, Colonel O'Neill will request reinforcements to assist our recovery," Teal'c said. "However, I would expect that Daniel Jackson and Josiah Sanchez will encourage him to attempt a diplomatic solution before resorting to such a tactic."

"Well, in the meantime, I hope you won't take offense if I make an attempt to achieve a diplomatic solution of my own," Ezra replied. "They provided us with something I can only assume was to be considered food earlier for what I suspect was the midday meal. I am hoping they will provide an even sustenance as well, and at that time I believe I shall be able to achieved connection with one of the locals."

"What do you have in mind?" JD asked, curious.

"Ah, it would spoil the fun to tell you in advance!" the man winked merrily.

Teal'c shook his head. He too was curious what the man was planning. This Ezra was certainly a different human from those he had encountered until this point. It would be interesting to see what unfolded with Ezra P. Standish in the picture.

+ + + + + + +

Jack sat back and rubbed his belly contentedly. If he didn't know for a fact that both Daniel and Carter would smack him on the back of the head - hard - he would have let out a nice long belch in response to the vast quantities of fine food and homemade beer that had been forced upon him by the women of the tribe. Vin's mother and a woman called Carkoa, whom Daniel had explained was the 'senior wife' of the tribe, had practically shoved the eats down their throats physically, acting a lot like stereotypical Italian mothers with their declarations of 'too thin' and 'must eat to be strong warriors' and all that. Jack had only been too happy to oblige - the food had been fantastic. Even if he didn't know what half of it was.

Daniel and Josiah had made friends with another elderly woman who held a place of honor in the tribe. Kalasana was apparently the tribal historian, and she had kept them entertained with legends of the Corel-ain people. Rica-talma obviously regarded the old lady with good humor and affection, and Vin treated her as a revered grandmother. It was an interesting family dynamic, Jack had to admit; not unlike one of the O'Neill family's extended reunions, actually. Just without a lot of drunken Irishman.

Daniel had been dropping hints rather heavily for the last half hour now about Vin's past, but so far the storyteller had either not caught them or had been ignoring them. The archeologist had shot a few meaningful looks to Josiah for assistance, but the big man was only grinning at his friend's frustration. For the longest time it looked like Daniel's ever present sense of tact and decorum was going to stymie their ever learning the unique man's history.

Thank god Buck Wilmington didn't suffer from that failing.

"So, Chief, how'd Vin come to live with your people?" the tall man asked suddenly, leaning back against his log. Jack watched as the old man studied Wilmington carefully; Buck's natural charm and charisma had not been lost on the women of the village, particularly the chief's two lovely young daughters who had been fluttering about in giggly girlishness, and Jack had to wonder how well that was going over with the father.

"Forgive Commander Wilmington, sir," Daniel said with an expression that mixed annoyance with relief. "He does not intend his impertinence."

"Oh, no, definitely not," Buck nodded hastily, apparently realizing from Daniel's comment that he might have caused offense. "Just curious as hell and it tends to shut off my edit button."

"Buck, they don't have a clue what an edit button is," Chris sighed. He looked to the chief with a small smile. "Buck is a unique creature even among our people. He's harmless and means no disrespect. He just tends to jump in with both feet before checking if the water's deep first."

Jack watched as the old man's lips formed a tight line, but there was a twinkle in his dark eyes. "I understand. We too occasionally find warriors who are grown on the outside, yet retain the inner ways of the very young."

"Mm, very young," Jack said. "I've been called that myself once or twice."

Daniel gave Jack a smirk before turning his attention solely to the Indian leader. "We are simply wondering how it is that Vin's appearance is so different from the rest of your people, and whether that meant there are other people on this world besides the Corel-ain and the Muy-otan."

"It is understandable," Rica-talma said as his son blushed slightly. "Our world has numerous tribes that we have met, and a few more which we have not. But to my knowledge, none share my son's light features and coloring." The man gestured to his wife, who sat on the other side of their son. "My Torga-lana gives the tale best, as it is her story to tell."

Torga-lana ruffled Vin's hair affectionately. The young man smiled and lowered his eyes respectfully as she leaned to kiss his temple before sitting back and making herself comfortable. "It was some nineteen summers past now; my husband and I were joined merely six summers and had been blessed with two sons; our eldest, Tyril-oka, and our second, Dumato-cohn. But Dumato-cohn was not long to this world, and when he was three summers the head fires taken him from us. We gave him back to the ground on a small hill in the valley where the Great Mystic Ocean stands."

The men grew soberly quiet as the woman spoke, her eyes distant. "I would go there every day to lay flowers on his eternal bed," she said softly. "Many hours would I speak to him of my grief, and pray to the Spirits that they might ease my sorrows. I felt my heart could not survive the loss of my child. Then one day as I prayed, there was a great rumbling of the ground, and a sound of thunder. As I looked up at the Great Mystic Ocean, its points began to light up, capturing the color of fire, and as I watched it called forth a great wave. The wave receded and left the shimmering Ocean of which I had heard in legends. I was much amazed, but even more so when moments later, a small child stepped forth, no more than five passings of the seasons. The boy wore only a blanket, his eyes the color of the clear sky were wide with fear."

She reached to take her son's hand, her eyes misting over. "As a child his hair was the color of straw, though with time it has grown darker, and his skin was the color of a new-born pig. He was most certainly not of the people, but he looked so frightened. My heart was moved to approach him and offer my hand. At first he was wary of me, but once he had considered me he smiled. I was sure the Spirits had sent this boy to me to heal my sorrows. I brought him home to my husband, who accepted him into our tent with gladness."

"He could tell us nothing of himself," Rica-talma said, resting a hand on Vin's shoulder. "Only that he was called Vin, and that he was of the Tanners. And so we called him Vin-ko-taneck-o-pentay, which means Vin, Child of Blessing Come From the Great Beyond."

"Within months of Vin-ko-taneck-o-pentay's arrival, the Spirits blessed me with another child," Torga-lana said, smiling broadly. "And six more have followed."

"Six?" Sam asked. "We've only met four."

"Incomate and Temantelko are too young yet to join the warrior tables," Rica-talma said proudly. "They are with the unmarried girls this night."

"Children would not be invited to a gathering of the elders with visitors," Josiah said. "It is to offer the visitors a calm reception without the activity of the young, and also to protect the children should the visitors be hostile or have undesirable habits." More than one set of eyes involuntarily shifted toward both Buck Wilmington and Jack O'Neill, who responded in unison.

"Hey!"

Rica-talma chuckled at his guests. "You are wise in understanding our ways."

"I have studied the culture of people from our world whose ways appear very similar yours for many years," Josiah said. "I have always admired your people and how you chose to deal with outsiders."

"On our world, the people of your culture have always been peaceful and generous until such time that people from outside your culture give them reason to behave otherwise," Daniel said. "Unfortunately, our world contains many varied races of people, not all of whom are as wise as yours."

"On our world, all people are of the same race," Rica-talma nodded. "And we have found that, like the Muy-otan, not all people are as wise as the next either."

"I suspect that is probably the case for all races in one form or another," Josiah agreed.

"So, in regards to the Muy-otan," Jack said, trying to be delicate. "Can you offer guidance for getting our people back from them?"

"We will give you a good fur and a young calf to trade for each man," Rica-talma said firmly. "The Muy-otan are a poor people, their hunters not as skilled as ours. My son shall inform them that if they do not accept the trade, it will be considered an act of war against the Corel-ain. They should wish to avoid such a thing, as in our last war they were banished from the meadows."

"We appreciate your willingness to offer your possessions on behalf of our people," Jack said. "But we would rather offer our own things in trade."

"No offense, Kamo O'Neill, but I doubt you have anything they would want, or that we would want them to have," the old man said with a smile. "We are a simple people, and would prefer that they remain the same."

"Chief Rica-talma has a point, Jack," Daniel said. "Most of what we could offer could alter the balance of power between the tribes."

"But we don't want to put them out, either," Jack countered.

"We appreciate your wish to not take things from our people," Rica-talma said gently. "But it will be payment for our future debts to you."

"You need not worry," Torga-lana said. "What we offer would be the same as an offer to the family of my son's future wife. It is only right we would give the same to his new family."

"New family?" Jack asked quietly.

Daniel exchanged a look with Josiah, then shrugged. "Perhaps they think Vin came from our world, and therefore we would be considered his brothers," he said quietly. "It would be insulting not to accept." He turned back to the chieftain. "We would be honored to accept your generous assistance."

"It is our honor to assist you," Rica-talma nodded solemnly. "For now, I believe we should seek our furs for until the dawn. You should leave at early light if you are to reach the Muy-otan camp by tomorrow's darkness."

"I shall have Tyril-oka and Markan-to prepare horses during the waking meal," Torga-lana said.

Her husband nodded. "Tell them to use the gartos; they are not as fleet, but their footing is more sure in the high hills."

"As you say, my husband," the woman agreed, before bustling off into the village. Rica-talma indicated several young warriors who stood by at attention. "We have prepared three tents for your people, if Captain Carter does not mind sharing quarters with my daughters."

"It would be an honor, sir," Sam said, surprised by the offer.

"Then we are settled," the old Indian said with a smile. He climbed to his feet and turned to Vin. "You shall sleep with the guests this night, my son," he said. "It is now your place to watch over them."

"I understand, Father," the young brave said soberly.

Jack frowned at the finality of the statement; something about the way Vin's father kept speaking to his son felt very off for some reason. He just couldn't put his finger on it.

"Alright then; Daniel, Josiah, you guys are tent one. Buck and Nate, you're tent two. Chris and I will bunk with Vin in tent three." Jack got nods from his people and they collected themselves to follow the way to their quarters for the night as Sam followed after Vin's two giggling sisters looking like she was being taken a slumber party. Hell, Jack thought, for all he knew that's exactly where she was going; the two girls seemed awfully eager to play with Carter's blonde hair.

Their tents were in a small circle at the edge of the camp, and from the looks of it they had been hastily erected in the last few hours. They had been provided with large and surprisingly comfortable beds made of very soft furs and a small warming fire had been prepared in the center pit. They had been provided with water skins that hung from the sides and a large bouquet of jerky meat had been dangled overhead - apparently the wives were concerned that after more food than a Thanksgiving dinner for twenty, their guests might still need a nosh.

"If you have need of anything, you will let me know," Vin said as Jack flopped down on a pile and unbuttoned his pants with a relieved sigh.

"Trust me, with the exception of a good bush in about fifteen minutes, I am down for the count," Jack said. He watched as the blond across from him nodded in agreement. At Vin's puzzled expression, Jack added, "You know, to... um... to..."

"When Mother Nature calls," Chris said lightly, grinning at Jack's attempted tact. He grinned wider as Vin's look went from puzzled to amused.

"Of course," the young man said. "There is a small hut at the end of the camp, with a collection of dried herbs hanging above the entrance. When the flap is pulled down, it is currently occupied."

"Nice," Chris chuckled. "Well then, let's get some shut eye. Big day tomorrow, you know. And Jack's likely to be up half the night at the little boy's tent after all that rich food."

Jack narrowed his eyes at his friend. "Watch it, Larabee."

+ + + + + + +

JD looked up when the door opened. It felt like they had been here for days rather than just hours; at least he had his watch so he could keep track of the time his body was used to being on. He estimated that this planet's days lasted around thirty-nine hours, based on the amount of daylight to the anticipated ratio of nighttime for a full rotation at this time of year, assuming the seasons on this planet were comparable to Earth. So really, not a huge shock that he was exhausted.

Teal'c had been meditating for about two hours, helping his symbiote to help him repair his injuries, and appeared to be mostly recovered. For his part, Ezra had done a little stretching and some exercises that JD recognized as tai chi but had remained mostly quiet and thoughtful. JD had spent their entire captivity alternating between trying to get the attention of their captors and brooding about not being able to convince the Indians to release them. It had been a long day of accomplishing nothing.

The Indian that stepped through the doorway bore a large bowl of stew. Behind him, another Indian bore several smaller bowls and wooden spoons. A third Indian carried a large loaf of bread in a towel and several water skins. JD watched Ezra perk up at the sight.

"I see dinner is served," the man said with a smile. "And it smells most appetizing. We are grateful for your offerings."

JD worked hard to keep from frowning at Ezra's cheerfulness, the man almost seemed happy to be a prisoner. He watched as the first Indian set the stew in the center of the room before turning to the con man. "You may think us villains, but we do not treat our enemy any harsher than required."

"And we are grateful for that as well," Ezra replied, bowing slightly. "But I am sorry you think of us as your enemies. We are but peaceful explorers from far away, here to learn of your people and your ways."

"You came from the plains," the Indian argued. "We believed you to be of the Corel-ain."

"You are mistaken," Teal'c said simply. The Indians regarded the Jaffa carefully.

"Admittedly, you do not look like Corel-ain," the leader said. "But you are most certainly not of our tribe."

"We are not," Teal'c replied. "However, we are not your enemies simply based on that fact."

"Your fellow warriors were rescued from our capture by a Koaei," the second Indian pointed out.

"I can only guess to that occurrence," Teal'c said. "Until the moment of your attack, we had not met any outside our party."

"Are the Koaei your enemy?" Ezra asked carefully. JD watched as the Indians glanced at each other, but he couldn't tell what their expressions meant.

"They reside of the plains," the lead Indian said. "We live in the dark hills. So it has been for generations."

Ezra frowned. "Does that make them your enemy?"

The Indians glanced at each other. "They are of the plains," the leader said, obviously confused by the question. "We are of the hills."

Teal'c exchanged a look with Ezra. "I see," the Jaffa said, in a tone that JD suspected meant he really didn't. At least, JD didn't.

"Well, gentlemen, perhaps we could negotiate for better accommodations while we remain in your fine company," Ezra said cheerfully. The Indians consulted each other before the leader nodded reluctantly. Ezra smiled and gestured to the refreshments which had been set in the middle of the floor. "Please, join us as we appreciate this fine repast, and let us discuss this matter further."

The Indians looked rather confused but the leader nodded and moved to kneel at the bowls. Ezra and Teal'c followed suite, and after a moment so did JD. Several of the other Indians joined them in the same fashion. JD watched in fascination as the leader raised his arms and gave a blessing for the food.

This was getting weird.

+ + + + + + +

The morning saw the teams getting their gear together after a hearty if simple breakfast. The tribal wives had plied them with a meal of some sort of flatbread fried in a sweetened egg mixture that was extremely similar to a typical American French toast recipe, served with a fresh fruit chutney made of some kind of apples and berries and goat's milk that was apparently kept cool by storing it in sealable clay pitcher in a deep hole in the ground. There was also a grits-type cereal drizzled with honey, sausages that Jack suspected were bear meat, and just in case they weren't satisfied a vegetable omelet was available as well as biscuits and gravy. No one would be allowed to walk away hungry. Or actually able to walk at all.

Chris stretched carefully as he watched each person checking his or her equipment. At breakfast the old Indian chief had confirmed that Vin would be their guide on this little adventure, but again his choice of words had caused brows to furrow among the Earth teams. Now the blond captain was watching as the young brave sat with Josiah as the anthropologist explained the use of an M60.

"You look worried," Buck said quietly from behind him. "What's up?"

"Nothing," Chris replied, shaking his head. "Just thinking about our new guide. Did you get the impression that his father was..."

"Giving him to us?" Buck cocked his head. "Yep, got that myself. But it ain't like we're real up on their customs, ya know, they may take loanin' out a son as a real serious to-do."

"But giving the equivalent of his wedding gifts to get back our people," Chris countered. "And the way he keeps referring to us as Vin's new family."

"Gettin' cold feet at the idea of marriage?" Buck chuckled. "Don't worry about it, Josiah and Daniel seem to agree it's just their weird turn o' phrase and not something we need to get our panties in a bunch on."

"If you say so," Chris said. "Not like we could do anything about it right now. We need the kid to get JD and Teal'c back, and it wouldn't do to offend his father. We'll just deal with any misunderstandings after we've done the whole rescue routine."

"Sounds like a plan," Buck agreed. "One thing at a time."

"Amen," another voice chimed in. The two former SEALs turned to see Jack O'Neill approaching, munching on a piece of the French toast stuff. "And first thing on the list is a long horse ride."

"Well, I'm up for a trail ride," Buck grinned. "Doesn't look like Nate is, though."

The group turned to see Nathan struggling to mount his ride, much to the amusement of the Indians who were helping him.

"Do not fear," Vin said, stepping away from the group clustered around Nathan, which included Josiah, Sam and Daniel all added their various forms of encouragement and advice. "Eloae is a most gentle horse; he will not allow harm to befall Captain Jackson."

"Good to know," Chris grinned. "On our world, not everyone is trained how to ride a horse from birth."

"How then do you travel?" Vin asked, frowning. "Surely you do not all stay in the same place all your lives?"

"Well, that's getting into some complex territory," Buck said tactfully. "Long story for another time, I think."

"I agree," Chris said. "If we answer your first question, that will inevitably lead to others and we don't have time right now."

"I understand," Vin nodded. "There will be plenty of time for questions later. Shall we begin?" He turned and walked toward the group by the horses, leaving Buck and Chris alone again.

"Guess he thinks we're gonna be hanging around a while after, too," Buck said.

Chris shrugged as Buck moved to collect the horse he was being guided toward. They have to get JD and the prisoner back, but it might not be a bad thing to stay a day, if Jack's team could get back without them. But they could decide that later. For now, it was time to mount up.

FIVE

The ride was pleasant enough, once he got the hang of it. Nathan Jackson had been born in Atlanta, moved to Chicago when he was eight, then to Houston when he was fourteen. He'd gone to college at Duke and done his basic training at Lackland. He could ride a motorcycle, drive a stick and a big rig, and even a snowmobile. But a horse was completely out of his league.

Luckily, Vin hadn't been lying when he'd assured him that Eloae was a good horse for a beginner, and the Indian saddle offered a certain amount of security. Still, he felt like he was going to be bounced to death, despite holding on for dear life. What he wouldn't give for a souped-up Harley right now.

He was impressed at his fellow Earthlings. Chris had a horse ranch so it made sense that he looked like he was born to it, and Buck had apparently spent some time working that same ranch. Josiah and Daniel had both spent plenty of time on expedition to remote areas where horse travel was likely the only method beyond walking that was viable, so that made sense too. But Sam Carter and Jack O'Neill were both city kids just like him, yet they seemed at ease in the saddle. And Vin... well, the Indian was so at ease he practically became part of the animal.

And Nathan just kept bouncing.

By the time Vin brought them to a halt and indicated they should all dismount, Nathan was barely able to walk straight and he was sure he had blisters on his butt. He gratefully accepted Buck's supporting hand as he walked after the group trying to loosen up his muscles. After helping to secure all the horses in a small clearing Chris and Jack had stepped up to where Vin was, letting the rest fall in line behind them as they started climbing a visible path that led up into the high hills thick with lush green overgrowth. The 'dark' of the dark hills, Nathan guessed, glancing at the heavy canopy of the leaves overhead.

The trail was steep, and most of the team were panting heavily by the time they reached a plateau. Nathan was impressed by the young brave's stamina - the man was barely even breaking a sweat. He called for them all to sit for a few moments, which Nathan did gladly even though he knew that between the horse and the climb getting up again was going to hurt like hell. Still, he was grateful for the moment's respite.

"From here we have only an hour's journey before we reach the Muy-otan camp," Vin told them. "We should be very cautious from here on out."

"What is the relationship between your people and the Muy-otan?" Daniel asked.

"We have been adversaries for many generations," Vin said with a shrug. "According to the stories, the Muy-otan people were once our friends and allies. Our children intermarried, our families shared land. Then came a day when several young men became dissatisfied by their place in the tribe. They believed that as warriors they should be given then highest regard over that of the elders and the wise ones. They were removed from the tribe and forced from our tribal lands into the hills. Some of their families went with, but most did not. The people of the hills were considered outcast from our people for several generations before Rica-talma's great-great-grandfather Omacan-mataka first made overtures to them in peace.

"Since that time we have suffered their raids on our camps and stealing our crops. Omacan-mataka and his descendants have led our tribe by treating their acts with tolerance. Omacan-mataka believed that in time we could convince the Muy-otan to rejoin our tribe, or at least to live in peace within similar territories. With each passing generation the Muy-otan have gotten weaker, their resources lessen while our tribe continues to flourish. My grandfather made the most progress, securing a treaty with the Muy-otan leader of that generation that no longer would they steal from our camps proper.

"My father and the current Muy-otan leader have had some successful interactions, moving us closer to the day when we might welcome them back to our lands in peace, but the young warriors are proud on each side." Vin shook his head sadly. "Young men are more like oak trees than reeds. I am afraid it may still be a few generations before an understanding is truly reached."

"It is the effort that matters, as much as the result," Josiah nodded. "In every attempt you step closer to the success you dream of."

"Wise words," the brave replied reluctantly. "May they come to pass in reality as easily as they pass from your lips."

"Amen," Josiah chuckled.

"So is there anything in particular we should know about how to deal with these people?" Jack asked. "Keep a head lower, not look at their feet, whatever?"

"Simply be respectful, and do as I advise," Vin said. "I shall do the negotiating. I do not think this will take very long. That they have captured your friends and we must offer in trade for their safe return will be of much pride for them. They will not likely push further."

"It's kind of your father to offer us the means to retrieve them," Daniel said carefully, glancing at Josiah. It had not escaped Nathan's attention that the two team leaders and their respective societal specialists were wary of something regarding the young warrior. "We will try to repay him."

"You need not be concerned," Vin said, cocking his head with a frown. "In time you shall repay the debt many times over." The young man glanced at the sky. "We must continue; there is rain in the future, we will not want to be caught outside their camp or it will be difficult going. There are large dust hills in our path that will become deep and slippery."

"Great," Nate sighed. "I was hoping for an evening with my wife on the pool deck watching the stars; instead I'm going to be wallowing in mud puddles."

"Penance for our sins, brother Nathan," Josiah said, grinning. "To labor in the throws of nature is to remember our place in it."

"Hey, I'm down with nature," Nathan argued. "I just believe in enjoying the messier parts of it from behind a nice window."

The group collected themselves and continued up the path after their guide. It was nearly an hour later when Vin suddenly held up his hand, his entire body coming to rigid attention as he cocked his head.

"What's up?" Chris asked quietly.

"We are surrounded," the young man said simply. "Please kneel with your hands behind your back."

Jack and Chris looked at each other and frowned, but followed when Daniel and Josiah immediately did as the young man commanded. Nathan carefully moved to position Sam between himself and Buck as they followed suit along with their leaders. Vin was the last to kneel, positioning himself ahead of the group on the trail.

"We commit ourselves to your good will," he announced carefully. "We have come to negotiate for the release of those you have taken from us."

"Declare yourself, ookane," a voice called from in front of their group.

"I am Vin-ko-taneck-o-pentay of the clan Koeai, second son of Rica-talma, Chieftain of the Corel-ain. I bring with me travelers from the Great Mystic Ocean, in search of their brothers whom you have taken."

"I am Toa-crawmo," the voice called. "Brother of the Chief of the Muy-otan." The speaker stepped into view as he spoke, approaching cautiously; he was tall and thin, and not much older than Vin. Slowly, other warriors were stepping out from the trees, warily studying the off-worlders. "You are brave to come to our lands, ookane."

"I have no reason to fear you, Kamo" Vin said calmly, raising his face to meet the gaze of their captor. "Our people once were brothers; we are all kin to the Mother Earth and Spirits."

"Our people have not welcomed your clans for many seasons," Toa-crawmo said, cocking a dark brown. "And you are not of the blood, young warrior."

"I call Rica-talma Father, and he calls me son," Vin said evenly. "I have known the ways of our people since I was a sprig to the bush, and I call the Corel-ain my family. You have no cause to question me, no matter the shade of my face."

There was a long period of silence as the warriors considered each other, and Nate held his breath. Minutes ticked by, and soon enough Jack looked ready to start shooting at any minute out of impatience. Chris didn't look much better, quite frankly. Buck was casting worried glances at the blond man, while Carter and Daniel were doing the same to Jack. The only person who didn't look worried or irritated, actually, was Josiah. The man was annoyingly calm-looking.

Finally Tao-crawmo chuckled, an encouraging sound. Vin's expression didn't waver, but something about the young man's demeanor relaxed slightly; it was slight, but enough to ease Nathan's tension. "I like you, Vin-ko-taneck-o-pentay. You, I will not kill." He cast a mischievous eye around the rest of the kneeling group. "And because I like you, I will consider not killing your friends."

"How kind," Jack muttered. Vin cast a dark eye at the colonel which impressively shut Jack up in a way that forced Nathan to stifle a laugh.

"Come, we are feasting tonight. We have been blessed with a visit from the messenger of the spirits." Tao-crawmo gestured his prisoners to their feet before starting up the path. The Earth teams struggled to their feet, and several of their captors stepped up to assist with more kindness than Nathan would have expected. He himself accepted the help of a much shorter man with gratitude as his knees screamed against the abuse.

There was definitely an advanced gym membership in his future.

+ + + + + + +

They trudged along the path behind Vin and Toa-crawmo in silence, though the physician was certain Josiah and Daniel were both dying to know what the Muy-otan had meant by being visited by the gods. At least it didn't sound like they were preparing to use any captives as human sacrifices.

They arrived at the camp not too long after their capture, and Nathan was surprised by the appearance. The village of Vin's people was well kept, spaciously spread, and had obviously had much time and effort spent in developing it. There were large huts and tents, gardens and smokehouses. There were at least a dozen deep wells to provide drinking water, and there was also a nearby creek where the people washed their clothes and bathed when it was warmer and got the water to heat for baths when it was cool. There were fields of crops on the western plateaus outside of the village proper - tall waves of corn and grains - and groves of fruit trees to the south. The village was thriving, with bountiful food and materials to make their lives.

This place was not. Not that the village looked any less kept, but it was small and crowded. There were only a few very small huts made of logs, and the tents that made up the bulk of the residences were rather small. There were no wells to be scene, which made sense since most of the ground appeared to be very rocky. The only garden in sight appeared to be struggling at best, and since the entire settlement was surrounded by thick woods it was doubtful there were any crops being grown nearby. The people seemed to be surviving just fine, but thriving was a very different matter.

Buck brought up the rear of their group as they were directed into a small area around a cooking fire. Toa-crawmo indicated that they should find seats on the logs and ground around the fire, and a pretty young woman in a simple deerskin dress offered them a small selection of roasted meat and dried fruits. Another woman offered a basket of chunks of bread, and third a plate of fresh vegetables. An older woman was making the rounds with a water skin, filling small cups that had been carefully hewn out of wood and polished smooth. The water had been sweetened slightly and there was a touch of berry juice in it, but mostly it was just plain cold water. Buck couldn't help but compare the simple fair of the Muy-otan with the surplus and variety of the Corel-ain. Only the meat was cooked, everything else was either raw or dried, and the bread was served plain without any sauces for dipping or butter as the Corel-ain had offered.

Buck shook himself. It wasn't fair to compare the two tribes. One had many more people and the resources of a wide and fertile plain. The Corel-ain had also lived on that plain for about three hundred years longer than the Muy-otan had been a tribe at all, living in the hills among thick trees and rocky soils. Rather than wells and rain barrels, the Muy-otan had to rely on the rivers alone for water. The Corel-ain had a large lake for fishing, where the Muy-otan had to catch the fish as they rushed past in the river's current. The heavy forest cover made it difficult for the tribe's gardens to flourish as they had limited direct sunlight. The hills did offer a variety of animals for hunting, but most were small - rabbits, possums and the like - as opposed to the large plains animals the Corel-ain had to provide their meat; meaning more warriors had to spend more time hunting for less gain than their brothers in the valley.

The women finished serving and set the platters of food down before pulling back to the very edge of the fire circle, making room for Toa-crawmo and the man who was obviously the chief of the tribe. If the man's costume didn't tip them off, the fact that he could have been Toa-crawmo's twin would have... that is, if a twin could be a few years older.

"I present Cro-atoman-te, Chief of the Muy-otan," the warrior said. "My brother, this is Vin-ko-taneck-o-pentay, warrior of the Corel-ain. He brings these travelers from the Great Mystic Ocean. It is there brothers whom we took from the woods."

"Welcome, warriors," the chief nodded solemnly. "You are here to bargain for their freedom. And yet, you too appear to be in need of release."

"We allowed your men to take us captive," Vin said firmly. "Had we not wished it, your men would not have held us for even a moment."

"So you say," the older Indian chuckled. "Would you prove this now, I would be of a different mindset."

"Look," Jack started to say, but a sharp gesture from Daniel and a hard glare from Chris cut him off. Vin appeared to ignore the exchange, his gaze never wavering from the chieftain.

"You would that I take your life to prove I could?" the young brave asked coolly. "I had not realized the Muy-otan had so little regard for life as to insist such a thing."

"I would that you prove you could without having to do so," the chief countered, his tone a touch harsh. "How otherwise should I believe your boasts?"

The two men stared at each other, expressions icy. Buck held his breath, wondering exactly what the correct play was. If they attacked, they could very easily defeat the warriors with probably minimal injuries, but the Muy-otan would sustain many deaths in the process and it would certainly not promote peaceful relations. On the other hand, if they did nothing, the Indians would likely see it as a sign of weakness. Buck felt like his entire being was going to explode if something didn't happen soon.

Of course, when something did happen, he was in no way prepared for it. And it certainly was an explosion of sorts in itself. Vin moved from his crouch near the fire to put a dagger to the chieftain's throat. The move was so fast Buck was sure it had happened in the span of two heartbeats. He heard gasps that he was sure came from Daniel and Nathan, and might as well have gasped himself. The Muy-otan chief's head was pushed back by the flat of the blade which Buck would have sworn had been in its sheath on Vin's thigh only seconds before.

Cro-atoman-te froze for a moment, then chuckled. "I am impressed, son of Rica-talma. Not even I in my best moments can move so fast."

"These warriors from the Great Mystic Circle are equally impressive in their skills," Vin said, maintaining the knife as the man's gullet. "They may not have similar speed, but they are skilled and cunning in their battle."

Buck glanced at Chris, who was suppressing a grin. The kid sure knew how to shovel it on.

"They don't look like much," the Muy-otan chief said doubtfully, raising his hand to push Vin's knife away.

Vin smirked as he slipped his knife back into the sheath. "Neither do I," he said, narrowing his eyes.

The chief grunted but didn't respond. He stepped back and moved around the circle to settle on an empty space of log next to Josiah while Vin returned to his seat between Chris and Jack. Silence reigned for a few minutes, and Buck contained his own anxieties by focusing on Jack's nervous toe-tapping and Nathan's lip-nibbling. Even Daniel and Sam, who Buck considered the more patient of their group, had their anxiety-processing methods - Daniel was fidgeting with his pant leg, and Sam was clasping and unclasping her fingers. The only ones who seemed completely calm were the Indians and Josiah. Quite frankly, Josiah's calm was a little unnerving.

"You are comfortable in your skin," the chief said to the big man, noticing the same thing Buck had.

"I have faith that all will resolve itself as it should," Josiah said with a shrug. "The benefits of age and wisdom."

Cro-atoman-te frowned. "I suppose there is precedence for such a view."

"It's one of the reasons the Corel-ain have thrived while your tribe has not," a voice said, startling the group. Buck felt his jaw drop as their imposter entered the fire pit, followed by JD and Teal'c and several Indians. "As we have discussed, your pride has allowed you to make some rather foolish choices."

"So we have discussed." Cro-atoman-te shook his head as he stood and offered his seat to the imposter. "Please, take my seat, komalento."

"Komalento?" Jack asked Vin.

"Wise counselor," Vin said simply. Of course, there was no reason for the brave to see anything odd about that.

" 'scuse me?"

Well, it didn't get past Jack.

" 'scuse me?" the colonel asked again, incredulous.

"Jack," Daniel said, his tone low and warning. He didn't give Jack a chance to speak again. "Teal'c, JD, good to see you both again."

"Indeed," Teal'c said. "We are gratified you are all well as well." The Jaffa tipped his head toward the 'komalento'. "We have been treated well, and had a most interesting time in the company of the Muy-otan."

"And Ezra," JD said, amused.

"Ezra?" Vin asked, glancing at the imposter.

"Ezra P. Standish," the man introduced himself to the brave. "Nice to meet you."

"He is Vin-ko-taneck-o-pentay of the Corel-ain," Cro-atoman-te introduced. "It is as you anticipated."

The Earth people glanced at each other. "What is?" Chris asked carefully.

"Kamo Ezra told us that his brethren from the place called Earth would seek the help of the people of the plains in achieving your release from our keep," Cro-atoman-te explained. "We did not consider this a good thing at first, believing that you would seek their help to bring war on us."

"I advised them that would not be your first choice of address," Ezra said with a dimpled grin. "Based on my discussions with Teal'c and young master Dunne here on your previous missions, it seemed reasonable to assume you would attempt a communion with a rival tribe."

Buck watched as Chris and Jack exchanged glances, even as Vin nodded. "And you advise them as much?"

Cro-atoman-te bowed his head. "We were not open to such ideas at first. Kamo Ezra was most patient with teaching us to be more open to ideas."

"Really," Jack said, his tone doubtful. "And what ideas did he open your mind to, exactly?"

The tribe's leader leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and clasping his hands tightly. The older man looked at the brave from the plains with soulful eyes. "Your grandfather and mine once negotiated a treaty between our people which brought a delicate peace to our tribes. Yet we were unwilling to see beyond the need to keep a war from destroying our people. We have kept our eyes closed to truth for many seasons, for no reason other than pride."

Cro-atoman-te took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "We have been foolish. But my father did not have eyes to see it. I myself have been unwilling to see for many years, but now comes the time to open and see, even if we must admit our failings in the process." The man's gaze shifted to Standish, who was leaning easily against a tree just outside the fire ring. "I have tried to follow my father's teachings, and to my shame have only now realized that in doing so I have condemned my people to the same fragile existence. My grandfathers broke from the Corel-ain because they believed warriors should lead the tribe. And yet our tribe has not flourished. We have struggled, our children suffered for our choices."

"My father has offered you to rejoin our tribe," Vin said slowly, his focus intense on the Muy-otan leader. "All you need do is recognize that our elders have wisdom which we warriors cannot expect to have at our age. It is with experience and wisdom that we choose when to cull the herds, when to plant the crops, when to move our village for the Season of Death. We will happily welcome your people home to our hearts and homes, but only if you will recognize that to be a leader requires more than simply strength of the hunt."

"It will be hard for some of our braves," Cro-atoman-te said, sounding tired. "It will take time to adjust our people to the idea."

"They can have time," Vin agreed. "You shall come to visit my father and the elders, to discuss. You need only ask."

"Patience will be required on both sides, I'm sure," Standish said casually. "But you have shown yourself willing to change; I'm sure the Corel-ain will be willing to give you the time to do so." Green eyes shifted to Vin. "After all, from what you have told me they are a most wise and generous people."

"To their great credit," the leader of the Muy-otan nodded. The man stood and offered his hand to the brave from his people's enemy. "To this I pledge, son of Rica-talma: if you are willing to give us the chance, I will all I can to find us worthy of your trust."

Vin stood and took the man's arm without hesitation. "I will tell my father to expect you before the next night of no Night Mother, to talk details of your return to our lands and our families. May today see the first of many good meetings among us."

"So shall it be."

+ + + + + + +

"Okay, so would someone please explain what the hell went on out there?" Jack asked as he tossed his pack one of the small beds. The Earth people had been given a small hut for the night, told they were honored guests whose presence had led to the beginnings of a new age of peace. Except Jack was pretty sure they hadn't actually DONE anything. "JD, what the hell went on while you guys were being held captive the past two days?"

"Ezra," JD shrugged. "Man has a way with words. The Muy-otan mentioned to us that we were taken prisoner because we came from the land of their enemies, but when Ez got'em talking, he learned that the reasons for the disagreements between the tribes were so old pretty much no one could actually remember what they were. The people here basically are barely getting by, and kinda jealous of the Corel-ain, but then it turns out that their all family if you go back far enough."

"Mister Standish was most persuasive in his discussions," Teal'c added, nodding to the man who was simply leaning against a wall, watching in amusement as Sam practically smothered her cousin as she and Nathan checked his physical condition. "He convinced the tribal council that perhaps it was time to change their ways of thinking."

"Pretty risky, don't you think?" Sam asked sharply. "Most people don't like being told they're wrong."

"Oh, my dear, at no time did I tell them they were wrong," Standish said. "I simply asked questions which forced them to reexamine their views on some things, gently forced them to challenge their own beliefs and opinions while making it impossible for them to blame me for their doubts. I was merely attempting to ensure that when you finally arrived to emancipate us from our predicament there would be a minimal amount of bloodshed." The man shrugged. "Quite frankly, it went considerably better than I had believed it would. But then, I did not expect you to show up with only one member of the opposing tribe."

"Wasn't our idea," Chris said. "Just following the advice of Vin's father."

"That would be Rica-talma," Standish nodded. "The Muy-otan have spoken of the man with grudging respect. I was pleased it was his son whom you found in your company. I believe Cro-atoman-te took it as a sign of great respect for his position that the chieftain's son was sent to negotiate for our freedom."

"My father is a wise man," Vin said simply, settling on a bed. "But I am most curious. The Muy-otan are not known for listening to the thoughts of outsiders so willingly. How did you convince them of the wisdom of your counsel?"

"Yes, that would be a good question," Daniel said, narrowing his eyes. "Tao-crawmo mentioned before that they had been 'blessed with a visit from the messenger of the spirits' and I'm suspecting he was referring to you. Just why did he think you're from the spirits?"

Ezra blushed slightly and ducked his head, waving a hand absently. "Ah, well, just being a silver-tongued devil is all."

"I do not think that was the reason," Teal'c said, frowning. "Would you not suppose that when you produced a date from the man's ear, he did not think it was magic?"

"Come again?" Jack asked.

JD chuckled. "Ezra got them to listen to him by doing a few magic tricks."

Jack blinked. "Come again?"

Ezra sighed. "They're a simple people, you realize. At first I was being dismissed by the men as nothing but an outsider of no consequence. So I... uh, well..."

"You suckered them," Sam said.

"In a manner of speaking," Ezra mumbled.

"It was great, colonel!" JD gushed. "They were going to leave and lock us in again, but Ezra stopped him by making him think he had the power of the spirits in his hand. Did the whole 'make a coin disappear and reappear' trick, and then did a couple of card tricks, making the cards dance and that sort of thing. It was really cool - he's really good, Sam. It was enough that the Indians thought he had magical powers and made them willing to listen."

"After that, he simply talked to them about the basis of their belief systems," Teal'c said, showing his approval. "He did not lecture or preach, only led them to face the error of their beliefs in their own time."

"Basic psychology, really," Ezra shrugged.

"You hoodwinked them," Nathan snorted.

"Well, it obviously worked for the good," Buck countered. "Not only did we not have to fight, we didn't even need to offer up goods in trade."

"And apparently they are willing to broker further peace as Rica-talma has said would be beneficial to all of them," Josiah chuckled. "I'm impressed."

"Somehow, I don't think conning the natives into peace is in our job description," Jack countered.

"Well, it doesn't exactly matter now, does it?" Daniel asked, his hands in a placating motion. "If he didn't mislead them into thinking he was magical for his own gain, and it leads to the benefit of both tribes, there's no real harm done, right? And we'll be taking Ezra with us when we leave."

"Just don't seem right," Nathan argued, shaking his head. "Making them think he's some kind of god."

"I did no such thing," Ezra retorted. "At no time did I tell them I was anything other than what I am. I merely did not dissuade them from their erroneous assumptions."

"Kind of the same thing, isn't it?" Nathan asked darkly.

"Kids, now let's all play nice," Buck interjected, trying to lighten the mood. "No real harm done, just like Daniel says. We're leaving tomorrow, and they'll be dealing with each other on a level playing field. Sometimes it just takes shaking things up to get people to see what's what, and that ain't too bad so long as it ain't taken advantage of. And we ain't gonna, so all's well that end's well, right?"

Chris smothered a chuckle as the group fell silent. Trust Buck to 'aw shucks' people into agreeing with him. "I say we call it a night, get some sleep, and try to get an early start tomorrow. If we make good time like we did today, we can be home for a late supper."

"I'm all for that," JD yawned. "These thirty-nine hour days are really tiring."

"Thirty-nine hours?" Jack gasped, looking at his watch. "Damn, I didn't even realize. No wonder I'm pooped. I'm getting suckered out of my beauty sleep." Daniel opened his mouth to comment, but stopped short at Jack's sharply raised finger. "Not a word, Doctor Jackson. Not - a - word."

Daniel put on a face of 'what, would I say something?' that had everything smothering laughs as they settled down for the night.

SIX

The morning came too soon, considering the night should have been longer than an average eight hours or so. Chris crawled from the warmed of his furs to find Teal'c, Vin and Standish all sitting together in a sort of group meditation, with Josiah and Daniel watching with interest. JD, Jack and Buck were all gleefully snoring away, still dead to the world, while Sam and Nathan appeared to be running through some basic yoga moves. It appeared that breakfast had been delivered before Chris had awoken, due to a large basket of fresh bread and fruit in the middle of the floor and a few full-looking water skins set next to small cups. Chris would have killed for a nice strong cup of coffee, but since they hadn't been planning on staying on this world this long, they hadn't packed any.

"You know," he said thoughtfully as he rolled out of bed. "Hammond must be having kittens by now. Even with our stop on the way here to send a message on our status, we're nearly four Earth days past how long we expected this trip to take."

"Wouldn't be surprised if there's a whole battalion camped around the gate when we get there," Sam shrugged. "Not something we could really do anything about."

"We'll just see when we get there, I suppose," Josiah said cheerfully. "Gonna be one hell of a mission debriefing, that's for sure."

"Someone want to wake the three stooges so we can get going?" Daniel asked. "If we wait for Jack to wake on his own, we could be here for another week."

"Ditto on Buck," Chris agreed.

"JD will sleep as long as someone else is snoring in his vicinity," Sam grinned. "His subconscious take the sound as permission to continue making it himself."

"Marvelous," Standish said, rolling out of his position in the meditation circle with a sigh. "I have been taken into custody by Sleeping Beauty, Snow White, Rip Van Winkle, and their merry band of dwarves." The man moved to the basket of bread and picked up three sizeable chunks, each of which was tossed in turn with no small amount of force at one sleeping man's head. Each man awoke with a start. "Good morning, campers. We hope you have had a pleasant evening's stay at Chez Teepee, but check-out time is in half an hour so that the chamber maids can proceed with their responsibilities. If you would be so kind as to get your collective asses in gear?"

"You're in that big a hurry to get back to face prosecution?" Buck groaned as he struggled to untangle himself from his covers. "Would think you'd be more than happy to let a man sleep."

"While I assure you I am not enthused with my prospects upon my return, a federal prison cell on Earth is still infinitely preferable to roughing it on an alien planet populated but a rural civilization," Standish said with a sigh. "What I wouldn't give right now for a double espresso latte with extra foam and a good croissant."

"Espresso?" Vin asked. "What is this?"

"Beverage of the gods, my dear boy," the con man answered with a wicked grin. "Nectar sublime."

"You guys don't have coffee?" JD asked. "I mean, I know the Muy-otan didn't have it, but I figured it was just cuz they live in the forests."

"I have not heard of coffee," Vin said. "I look forward to experiencing it."

Chris shared a look with Jack. "Well, we didn't bring any with us on this trip," he said carefully.

"That is fine," Vin replied. "I shall wait until we have returned to your world."

The entire group except Vin and Standish paused at the comment, before Chris cleared his throat carefully. "Vin, are you... um, do you think you're coming to Earth with us?"

"It is as the spirits have foretold," Vin said with a frown. "I am of your people, am I not?"

"Well, uh, yeah," Daniel said slowly. "But..."

"Then I should go with you, should I not?" Vin asked. "Old Kalasana has said this is as the Spirits had advised. I am to go with you, to rejoin my birth tribe and join your fight against the false gods who would threaten my people."

"False gods?" Daniel asked.

"Those who once ruled our world," Vin nodded. "It is said that many generations ago, perhaps five hundred or more, there was a time of war for our people. Not among the tribes, but against a race who enslaved us. There were called the False Ones, because they pretended to be gods. The Spirits were not pleased, and sent warriors from the sky to defeat them. These warriors were the opposite of the False Ones; where they were handsome of face, pleasing to the eye of our people, their hearts were black, their souls that of the serpents. The warriors sent by the Spirits were strange in appearance but pure of soul and fierce of heart; they defeated the False Ones and freed us from tyranny. But it was foretold that one day the False Ones might again attempt to take our people under their feet. That is why we are ever vigilant in raising strong warriors."

"Goa'uld," Sam breathed what everyone was thinking. "I wonder who the warriors of the Spirits were."

"Asgard maybe?" Jack asked. "They'd fit the 'strange' part."

"I don't see them as 'warriors' exactly," Daniel said. "Of course, five hundred generations ago I suppose things might have been a little different. Vin, is there a description of the warriors?"

"Only that they were not as we appear," Vin replied. "They were the gift of the Spirits sent to protect our people, and to teach us that beauty without is not as important as beauty within. It was a lesson we have long reinforced to all our children."

"Think there could be another race of beings out there against the Goa'uld?" Josiah asked.

"Oh, wouldn't that be nice," Jack sighed. "Can't have too many people picking on those guys, if you ask me."

"But Vin..." Daniel said, trying to return to the original topic. "Our world is very different than yours. You may not be happy with us. You'd be the only one of your kind among us."

"Gentlemen, would it be indelicate to point out that Master Teal'c is the only one of his kind among you?" Ezra spoke up. The mischievous glint in his eye was not lessened by the irritated glares he received from Jack and Chris. "And it would appear he is quite satisfied with his life among the Earthlings."

"I am quite satisfied," Teal'c answered before anyone had the chance to intervene. "I am fighting for a noble cause, for the safety and freedom of my people."

"So shall I be," Vin nodded, as though the subject was settled.

"You probably won't get to see your family for a long time," Chris pointed out. The young man seemed so close to his family, he had a hard time believing he could leave them behind so easily.

"As I would expect," Vin nodded. "I shall be sad to be away from them, but a warrior must follow his destiny."

"And perhaps he would have the opportunity to find his original people," Buck suggested directly to Jack. "Much as you and Daniel are seeking Sha're and Skaara."

It was a point made deliberately, Chris knew, so that Jack and Daniel could not argue with it.

Jack sighed. "Alright, we'll give it a try." He was shaking his head slightly, and Chris could imagine he was trying to formulate his arguments to the general. Temporary visitors were one thing; permanent guests were a little trickier. Teal'c's successful participation in the program might have opened the door, but it was a door that hadn't exactly been tested since.

All further discussion was thankfully terminated at the arrival of Toa-crawmo and Cro-atoman-te, along with two lovely women. Vin did not appear surprised or concerned that the chief of the most fierce rival tribe of his own people intended to return with them to the plains, along with his brother and their wives, so the Earth folk kept their mouths shut - even Jack, who Chris was sure was dying to voice a whole bucketful of concerns. Probably would have, too, if Daniel hadn't 'accidentally' stepped on his foot just as the colonel was opening his mouth to protest.

The trip down the hills was considerably easier, but took just as long due to all the sore muscles being suffered by the non-Indians of the group. The natives were amazingly patient, seeing how they had to keep stopping and waiting for the rest to catch up. Once they reached the horses things went much better, and Chris settled into the saddle with a relieved sigh. He glanced around at the rest of the teams so see Buck, Daniel and Sam settling in with matching happiness. Josiah, Jack and Nathan looked like they weren't any happier being mounted than they had been walking, but at least it wouldn't affect their pace. Teal'c took to the saddle easily, while JD appeared confused and uncomfortable but adapted quickly under the tutelage of his cousin and Buck in 'big brother' mode.

To Chris' surprise, their prisoner looked like he had been born to ride.

"I have many talents," the man said with a shrug when Chris asked. "Mother always advised that the best thing in life was to be prepared for all eventualities."

"Your mother considered being able to ride a horse Indian-style on an alien planet after spending two days as a prisoner an eventuality?" Buck asked with a grin.

Standish smiled mischievously. "You, sir, have never met my mother." He clucked to his horse and started off after the Indians, leaving Chris shaking his head.

Chris wanted to hate the guy, he really did. But he just couldn't. The man was a criminal, sure, but he was charming, engaging, and obviously very intelligent. If JD wasn't exaggerating, the man had deliberately avoided hurting him during their physical altercation, and had done his best to protect the boy from any aggressive intentions by their captors. He had secured their freedom through nothing more than a little slight of hand and a lot of silver tongue, and used logic and persuasion to make steps in a feud that had latest for generations among a people he didn't know and had no reason to help.

Plus, Teal'c liked the man. The Jaffa wasn't known for trusting anyone at first, second or even third sight - Daniel had mentioned under his breath that he considered Teal'c to be an excellent judge of character - but the big man had expressed his admiration for Standish without reservation. Plus, in conversation Standish had displayed a decent grasp of physics, mathematics, science, philosophy, religion, history and art. Chris had gotten the impression Standish could hold his own with any member on both SG teams on just about any subject. Which, quite frankly, made a certain amount of sense for one of the world's top con artists... yes, the man had also shown just a teeny touch of ego, too.

And, in the two days he had been with the Muy-otan, Standish had gained a fairly solid grasp of their culture and their Ancient language of Kauchi. Bringing the total number of languages the man spoke to sixteen, if he was to be believed.

If Chris had followed the explanation Standish had given, most of the individual tribes had their own languages which were completely different from the English which was apparently considered the 'common' tongue used by all the tribes of this world. Daniel had been fascinated by the fact that people who had been transplanted from Earth thousands of years before Columbus discovered America had still somehow learned the English language. Vin's only explanation had been that, as he understood it, the warriors of the Spirits had spoke the common tongue and taught it to the various tribes so that they would be able to communicate more easily with each other. This tidbit had Daniel and Josiah, along with Nathan, Sam and JD, all foaming at the mouth in the hopes that Hammond would permit more extensive future visits to this world.

In the meantime, there was Ezra Standish. Cunning, clever, calculating, coy and charming as hell. He had already charmed Sam in ways Buck hadn't been able to in two weeks of trying, had JD completely snowed, and was easily making friends with most of the rest of the teams. The only ones who seemed immune to the man were Jack and Nathan, and Nathan appeared to be deliberately fighting it. Given time, Chris suspected the doctor would find himself sucked in, too.

Jack, however, was another story.

Chris nibbled his lip thoughtfully as he watched the con man chatting it up with Vin and JD; apparently Vin had asked about what magic the man had used to convince the Muy-otan to listen, and Standish was obliging cheerfully. Chris watched as the man slowly walked the two young men through a card trick, demonstrating each move with careful purpose, repeating each move if asked. Vin seemed fascinated by the idea of slight of hand, and Chris would swear he could see the brave's mind working rapidly to consider the possibilities of how this new knowledge could be applied.

The ride seemed to go quickly, spending the time watching the con man's interaction with the others of their group. Once Vin had procured the cards to practice the trick himself, Standish had found himself engaged in conversation with Josiah regarding his experiences in his chosen field. The men exchanged views on philosophy and morality - and the flexibility of both concepts - before Daniel moved in to join. Chris had always had the impression that Daniel Jackson was rather rigid in his moral stance, but the man seemed swayed to some of Ezra's arguments. No argument - Ezra Standish certainly had a way with people.

"Man sure can talk, can't he?"

Chris turned to see Buck pulling his horse up beside him. "That he can. Doubt it will keep him out of a life sentence in Federal isolation, though."

"Damn shame," Buck said, pursing his lips. "He's got a way with people that could be right useful in situations. And based on what JD was saying, he's too smart for his britches when it comes to the technology and physics of gate travel. Seems a waste to lock him away for the rest of his life."

"He's a criminal, Buck," Chris said, but he couldn't keep the sigh out of his voice. "He's a thief, a con, a liar..."

"Yup," Buck said. "And the best in the business, apparently." Buck shook his head. "Just seems like it might be smart to give him a reason to be on our side, is all."

Buck clucked to his horse and pulled ahead, reining his horse next to Sam's while spouting some horribly obvious opening line. The blonde rolled her eyes and huffed in exasperation, but Chris suspected it was more for show than any real irritation. Whether she would ever admit it or not, Sam Carter had fallen for the Wilmington charm just enough to enjoy the man's company. She didn't seem the type to fall into bed with him anytime soon, but then again, she didn't seem the type to fall for him in the first place so...

The sun was just about set when they came within greeting range of the Corel-ain's village, and a good-sized crowd was waiting for them with apprehension. The presence of the four Muy-otan with their party had apparently created quite a stir, bringing out just about every member of the tribe regardless of age. The youngest children were being corralled by the older folks, but those elder folks themselves were nearly giddy with excited gossip at the site. As for the rest, the tribe's warriors were making a particular showing of their weapons and physical prowess, ranging themselves carefully in front of the rest of their families and the middle-aged men. Only Rica-talma had stepped out in front of the group and he had a son standing on either side, the young men stances indicating their readiness to fight at a moment's notice.

"Welcome home, my son," the chief said. "I see you have been victorious in your quest."

"More so, my Father," Vin said solemnly. He slipped from his saddle and stepped forward, then turned to gesture the Muy-otan forward as the rival men found the ground themselves. Chris wondered whether their teams should dismount, but as neither Daniel nor Josiah moved to do so he remained where he was.

"Father, I present to you Cro-atoman-te, Chief of the Muy-otan. This is his brother and second, Toa-crawmo." The two men stepped forward, and Cro-atoman-te bowed his head low to the older man as he dropped to one knee, his brother following suit.

"Honored Father," the younger chief said in a respectful tone. "I represent those whose ancestors were led astray by pride and guile. I am leader of those who would put aside our foolish ways and return to the fold of our heritage."

Rica-talma raised an eyebrow, but otherwise did not change his expression. "Long have your people waged war on us," he said, allowing skepticism to color his words. "Even unto recent times have you stolen our crops and hunted our lands. Why should we open our hearts to you when you have only stolen without return?"

"It is to our shame that such crimes cannot be denied," Cro-atoman-te replied. "Many things have we to atone for, this I will not argue. I can only offer my word that it is our true wish to face our shame and repent our previous behaviors. We have lived in darkness, in imprudence, and we wish to find redemption in the eyes of your people. I have traveled here, my wife and family to commit to your hands, that you might understand the sincerity of my request."

Rica-talma studied the man before him carefully for a long moment, then reached out to place a hand on the younger shoulder. "Then come, join our feasting table, and let us discuss this matter to resolution." Cro-atomoan-te followed the older chief's encouragement to stand, and followed Tyril-oka and Markan-to into the camp. Two other warriors assisted the Muy-otan women to dismount before they were collected by Vin's mother and sisters to follow their husbands. Once the group had been escorted into the camp, Rica-talma turned to his son, and to the Earth people who were finally allowed to dismount at a signal from their guide.

"My son, this is a most surprising development," the old man said, shaking his head. "I see you were successful in collecting your kindred, but you yet have the trading supplies you were given to use in procuring their freedom, and also bring home the chief of the enemy tribe?"

"I can claim no pride in this matter, my Father," Vin said with a shrug. He gestured for Ezra to step forward. "It is this man whom the Muy-otan call Komalento. Ezra is most clever in his persuasions."

"Nonsense," Standish said. "I was merely doing what I felt must be done to ensure my person remained unscalped, if you will."

"He convinced Cro-atoman-te of the wisdom of seeking your acceptance," Vin said, ignoring the con man's protestations.

"Then he is indeed Komalento." Rica-talma extended a hand to Standish with a bow. "You have done what we for many generations have been unable to do," the older man said. "For this, you are always welcome in my home, and shall be called Kumra-peca-toma."

Ezra blinked in surprise as Chris and Jack looked to Vin for translation. "Son who brings healing to the family," Vin explained quietly.

"Colonel O'Neill," the chief continued. "It is comforting to me to know that my son will be spending his time with such wise men when he leaves our fold."

"Yeah, about that," Jack said, trying to ignore Daniel's warning glare. He could not, however, ignore the small warning kick in the shins he got from Josiah.

"We are just concerned that perhaps the decision for Vin to accompany us to Earth has been made a little hastily," Chris said carefully.

Rica-talma placed an affectionate hand on his son's shoulder. "The Spirits had deemed it the path he must follow. I will miss him as I would my own arm be taken from my body, but it is not wise to disregard the wishes of the universe."

"No, definitely not," Daniel said wryly, his eyes focused on Jack. The Indians had made up their minds on this, and nothing they could say would change it. "We simply wished to be sure. It is a big step for Vin. We may not be able to come back here for a long time."

"Kalasana has said as much," Rica-talma sighed. "At least a dozen moons or more shall pass before Vin may return for a visit. But she has assured me that his six brothers will ensure his health for many seasons to come, so that I shall not worry. Now, shall we feast? You must be going soon, and Vin's mother will need her time to say goodbye." The old man cast an eye at Buck suspiciously. "And I suspect my daughters wish to see you off as well, Commander."

The man turned and strode toward the feasting ring as several SG members turned to the lanky Missourian. "I didn't touch them, I swear!" he gulped as the Indian brave cocked his head at him, eyes narrow. "Swear, Vin, I didn't!"

The Indian held a severe glare for a long moment, before cracking a wide mischievous grin. Without a word, Vin took the arms of Ezra and JD and guided them into camp, leaving the rest of the teams to exchange glances.

"Damn," Chris sighed. "We are in seriously deep shit with this kid."

"Yup," Josiah grinned. "Should make things interesting."

"Just be glad his dad's not coming with," Sam chuckled, patting Buck's arm as she passed.

"I don't need this," Buck muttered. "Really don't need this."

+ + + + + + +

Daniel watched as Vin stepped out of the gate, his eyes wide with wonder. The 'going away' party had been quite something, with the members of the tribe showering them all with various gifts, and Vin with enough supplies to last a year it seemed. A good-sized stallion had been heavily laden with furs, food and items of worth to the tribe no matter how much Daniel and Josiah had politely tried to explain that Vin would not need to bring anything at all with him. Explaining that they had never attempted to bring a horse through the gate was also ignored, leaving Buck and Chris with the job of trying to figure out the logistics of convincing a horse to step through an event horizon.

Jack was the one who got to explain a horse exiting the gate to Hammond.

Daniel smiled; he would forever remember the face of General Hammond as Jack was explaining that in a few minutes a 1100 pound Indian war horse would be coming into the gate room. It was only surpassed by the sight of the same man's face as he watched said horse being led down the ramp by members of his newest SG team. The whole situation bordered on ludicrous, except for the fact that they had a brand new alien friend currently staring around the gate room in stunned disbelief. Apparently, Josiah's carefully worded lecture on what to expect had been a little too vague.

"General Hammond, sir," the linguist said, stepping forward to stand beside the Indian brave. "May I present Vin-ko-taneck-o-pentay, son of Rica-talma, chief of the clan Koeai of the people of the Corel-ain, of the planet Elsoneia." A quick review of his introduction had Daniel giving a mental sigh of relief that he had pronounced everything correctly and gotten it in the right order.

"Call him Vin," Jack added lightly, as usual unable to face a solemn moment with its due seriousness.

"Vin, this is General George Hammond, son of..." Daniel blinked and glanced at the general for help. Luckily, the older man seemed to understand the importance of family references in tribal culture and supplied his father's name under his breath. "Donald James," Daniel repeated with a small smile of thanks, "of the people of the town of Austin in the state of Texas, of the planet Earth."

"Pleased to meet you, son," Hammond said to the young alien. "I understand your father has entrusted you to our family for a while."

"He has indeed, sir," Vin nodded. "I have brought gifts to offer in return for your hospitality." He gestured to the heavily packed horse. "This stallion is of my father's finest breeding stock, a mere ten seasons old. His burdens contain some of the finest furs my family has culled over the past Season of the Dead, several skins of our finest ales, and some of my mother's best woven blankets." The young man frowned slightly. "My mother wished to send a small collection of her best goats, but Doctor Jackson explained that your people do not drink the milk of the goat, nor do you use them for food?"

"Uh, no, we haven't... um, well, he's certainly right about that," the general said as diplomatically as he could while obviously trying not to wince at the idea of a herd of goats running around the SGC. "We are pleased to have you with us." The General turned to Doctor Fraiser, who stood off to the side. "May I present Doctor Janet Fraiser. She is one of the leaders of our medical team. I would like her to give you a complete physical."

"Doctor Jackson has explained the procedure," Vin said, looked slightly uncomfortable.

"I promise it's just routine," Janet said, putting on her most charming smile; it probably helped that the woman was a good six inches shorter than the Indian. "If anything makes you uncomfortable, just say the word and we'll stop."

"Captain Jackson and Doctor Sanchez will accompany you," Hammond said, gesturing to the two men.

"I would that the Komalento accompany us as well," the brave said with a furrowed brow. "I mean no offense, but it is his word I trust above all others."

"By all means," the general said, before he realized Jack and Chris were making desperate slashing gestures. The older man frowned, and glanced to Daniel. "Doctor?"

"Um, General, Mister Standish is the Komalento."

The general pursed his lips tightly as he realized who Mister Standish was. Too late to retract his agreement to their new guest, he released a short huff. "Standish, is it?" The con artist shrugged lightly, apparently not too concerned that he was facing the man who held his fate. "Captain Carter, Teal'c, why don't you accompany Airman Dunne to the infirmary at the same time. Make it a group trip." The look in the general's eyes conveyed easily that Sam and Teal'c had a higher responsibility than simply a visit to the doctor.

"Of course, sir," Sam said nervously. She led the group in following Janet and Vin out of the gate room, and Daniel fought hard to not smile at the easy grin the imposter had allowed to grace his face. The man was in trouble up to his ears, and he looked like he was about to receive the key to the city. Daniel couldn't help but like the guy.

"Alright, would someone like to explain to me what just happened?" Hammond growled after the infirmary-bound had cleared the room. "Why is it the man I intend to prosecute to the limit of my abilities for criminal activities is somehow the man most trusted by my new houseguest? What the hell is going on?"

"Well sir," Daniel said, fidgeting slightly. "it's a long story really. Perhaps we should save it for the debriefing?"

Hammond studied the linguist closely for a long uncomfortable moment, before finally nodding. "Alright, but let's do this soon, shall we? Everyone stop by the infirmary for clearance and let's rendezvous in the briefing room in one hour. And people, this had better be good."

Daniel exchanged glances with Jack as the general strode out of the gate room. Jack wasn't too happy about the whole situation either. This was going to be one hell of a debriefing.

+ + + + + + +

Buck leaned back, listening to the heated debate and studying Hammond's face as multiple arguments were presented. They had been back for exactly two weeks now, and they had finally reached the point where it was impossible to ignore the need to make a decision. Not that they hadn't been trying to put it off. There had been the medical exams, the basic debriefings, the individual debriefings, and the group reviews of the debriefings. And there had been dealing with their newest team member.

Hammond had been thoroughly impressed by Vin and had killed some time by taking a very personal interest in the young man's future. Vin's education on the average life on modern Earth had been entrusted to Hammond's brother-in-law, a history teacher. The brave had been shipped off for a few weeks to live on the man's ranch just outside Houston, under the watchful eye of Janet Fraiser and with help from Cassandra who could relate to what Vin would be experiencing. Vin had been carefully instructed not to discuss the Stargate or his home world, only to say he had been born on a small island just off of Hawaii by his missionary parents who had died when he was a child, and that he had been raised by the tribe who had limited contact with the modern world. Vin had quickly grasped the importance of secrecy. According to Hammond, he was also quickly picking up on his teacher's heavy Texas accent and countrified speech patterns, something that amused the general to no end.

But now it was time to face the issue of one Ezra P. Standish. Ezra's actions on Elsoneia, both in protecting JD and in helping to heal the rift among the natives, had definitely muddied the waters a good bit. General Hammond was a decent man who felt obligated to consider the good the man had done in contrast to his previous actions. It hadn't helped that Standish had also provided a complete written confession of his actions in extreme detail, who they were on behalf of, his intentions, and his acceptance of any and all punishments that were deemed fitting.

The man seemed almost eager to receive a life sentence. Or death sentence, depending on the mood of the person sentencing him.

Over the past two weeks Buck had developed a real liking for the con man. Aside from his actions on the planet, Ezra had shown that for the most part he was a decent guy who just happened to have fallen into a less-than-savory occupation. The fact that the man was completely accepting of his responsibility in the situation only helped Buck like him more. After the initial debriefing with the teams, Buck had sat in on the interrogation of Standish and watched as the man cheerfully gave up a treasure-trove of information about the people who had hired him. He had not been remorseful of his actions, something that had apparently bothered Jack and Hammond, but Buck suspected Chris saw behind the words not being said. After all, how could a man feel guilty about taking money from one government agency to spy on another agency of the same government?

And so here they were. Every ounce of information Ezra had provided had been discussed, analyzed, considered and acted upon. But it didn't excuse the fact that Standish had essentially committed an act of high treason along with about two dozen lesser infractions. So the general had convened the two teams most closely involved for discussion of the situation.

It was a rather amusing quandary as far as Buck was concerned. After all, they couldn't court martial a civilian, but to press charges in either criminal or civilian court would likely require disclosure of classified information. Of course, it would be easy to detain the man for the next forty or fifty years - by then odds were that the gate would be public knowledge anyway - but that just didn't sit well with anyone, especially after all the valuable information Ezra had given them regarding the NID operations. Not to mention that the man had offered to help them redesign their security to avoid anything like this happening again in the near future.

But they couldn't just let him go either. The list of charges he could possibly be pressed with was as long as Buck's arm, assuming they could figure out a way to press them... even if his actions were taken on behalf of another branch of the government, which actually only made it all more complicated. Which left them with... what, exactly?

"We could add him to Team Seven," Buck spoke up suddenly.

The room fell dead silent for a long moment before exploding into chaos.

"Are you insane?" Jack asked him, wining out over the other comments. "You want to add a thief and a liar to an official SG team?"

"Just saying, we can't exactly let him run around loose, and we can't keep him under lock and key either," Buck shrugged. "So why not take advantage of the fact that the man is obviously very smart, very cunning, and very capable of taking care of himself and other people?" He looked to his oldest friend. "Chris, you've always said that it's never a bad thing to have a con artist on your team."

"Chris, tell me you're not considering this," Jack said.

Chris shrugged. "Jack, General, Buck has a point. We can't keep him against his will and we can't let him go free without a lot of assurances that we aren't likely going to get. Especially considering what he does to pay his bills. He said himself this experience was the biggest rush of his life, and that he envied what we do for a living. We have other civilian team members, so why not him?"

"Captain, let me just be clear," Hammond said seriously. "You already have added a rookie airman and an alien to your team, and now you want to add a confessed criminal and spy?"

"Well, General, it certainly would keep things interesting, wouldn't it?" Chris said with a grin. "And if the man's willing, it would solve the situation."

"He's not trustworthy!" Jack argued.

"No kidding," Chris said. "On the other hand, wouldn't you have said the same thing of Teal'c initially?"

"That's different!" Jack said. "Teal'c proved himself when he turned on his own guard and saved our lives."

"Mister Standish saved the lives of Airman Dunne and myself," Teal'c interjected.

"Lives that wouldn't have been in danger in the first place except for him," Jack growled.

"Well, technically it was JD's fault that they went through the Stargate, sir," Carter said tentatively. "But I suppose he wouldn't have shoved Standish through the wormhole if he hadn't been trying to apprehend him for trespassing..."

"Look, it'd be one resolution," Chris said. "I'm willing to give it a shot, if the guy's willing."

"He'd be your responsibility, Captain," Hammond warned. "And he would need to understand that he would be considered a prisoner of this base, under permanent house arrest when not on off-world assignment until I decide otherwise."

"General, you're not seriously considering this!"

"Jack, do you have a better idea?" The general studied Jack's face for a long moment before the colonel finally shrugged and turned away. "Alright, Chris, you have my permission to extend the invitation to Mister Standish. But I will hold you personally liable for his actions, clear?"

"Crystal, sir," Chris nodded seriously. "Permission to offer Standish a position on our team, sir?"

Hammond nodded, dismissing the room. The naval captain saluted and then exited the room, Buck following closely on his heels. Buck refrained from chuckling when he heard Chris mutter, "You better be right about this Buck, or I swear I will neuter you myself."

"Don't worry Chris, I've got a good feeling about this," Buck grinned. "Besides, think about it: seven members for SG-7. I'm sure it's karma or something."

"That's it - no more late-night snacks with Josiah," Chris sighed. "I can't take two of you spouting new aged mumbo jumbo."

Buck chuckled as he followed his boss up the corridor on their way to make Standish an offer he wasn't in a position to refuse. Vin was scheduled to return to base the end of next week, and then they could start officially training as the new SG-7. Chris was obviously trying to hide the fact that somehow this turn of events was making him very happy. Chris was never so satisfied as when life was following his decisions while at the same time remaining nice and unpredictable. Having Ezra and Vin in the mix certainly would make things unpredictable, no doubt about it.

Buck grinned as he watched Chris enter the commissary where Ezra was currently eating under the guard of several burly airmen, two of whom were losing to their prisoner at poker. The blond approached the table, clearing the game away with a word, to a sour reply from Standish. Chris flashed a wide grin and took the seat opposite the man, and two minutes later was dealing five-card stud as he made his proposal. Standish was chuckling, Chris was grinning...

It was a beautiful thing.

"Damn if we aren't set for some might fine adventures," Buck muttered to himself.

Time for some blue-raspberry Jell-O with Airman Amy Jarkespy...

FINI