Disclaimer : Stargate and it's characters belong to Gekko, MGM, et all. The Sentinel belongs to Petfly. This is an amateur production and is not intended as an infringement of their copyright. Original characters are the sole property of the writers.

Publication Date : 11/06/1999

XO : Stargate SG-1/The Sentinel

Summary : SG-1 discovers Sentinels on a distant planet, and seek the help of the world's only known sentinel expert -- Blair Sandburg.

Allies (PG)

By Yvonne and Robert McCool

Colonel Jack O'Neill stepped out of the ring and visually swept the area. He was closely followed by Teal'c, Major Sam Carter, and Doctor Daniel Jackson. Planet PH-4506 was heavily wooded, and the air held a slight morning chill. A thick layer of dew clung to the foliage surrounding the Stargate and dripped off the DHD. Forty-three degrees Fahrenheit wasn't that cold, but the air always seemed sharper just after you emerged from the Stargate.

With the information from the MALP, the team was able to properly dress for the occasion. Even Teal'c had a black watchman's cap covering his bald head. Jack removed his black leather gloves from his belt and slipped them on.

O'Neill turned to look at his team. Carter was scanning the area with one of her electronic doohickeys. Daniel was making note of a pair of small statues that stood just in front of the DHD. Statues which Jack had failed to notice. As usual, Teal'c stood guard.

"Wide-band transmissions coming from the south," Major Carter announced. "It's probably a very large settlement. The pollution levels are almost nonexistent. We could learn a lot from them." Sam made immediate entries into her palm-sized computer. Jack had one of those too... somewhere. Obviously, he was not meant to carry a computer smaller than a laptop.

"Teal'c, do you recognize the markings on this statue?" Daniel asked from his kneeling position. "It looks like Bast." The anthropologist bent down by the statues and used his handkerchief to brush away the moisture from the engravings on the surface.

Jack smirked. Later as the chill air infuriated his sinuses, Jackson would be all but begging for a dry handkerchief. O'Neill vowed to let his friend have the extra one he carried for just such occasions, but only after a little whimpering on Daniel's part.

"It is Bast," the Jaffa said confidently. "She was once a very powerful system lord."

"What happened to her?" Jack asked.

"No one knows." Teal'c paused. "Her Jaffa were once greatly feared, then she simply vanished. There are many theories, but few facts."

Jack sighed. "So we could be about to tramp through Bast-Goa'uld territory?" O'Neill inquired.

"I don't think so," Daniel responded. "The Goa'uld guard their gates almost religiously. Even though the grounds around the gate are tended, there was no one standing guard."

"What's the second statue?" Carter inquired as she moved closer to Daniel.

"Bastet, which represents Bast in her full cat form," Daniel responded. "Bast was the daughter of Isis and Osiris. She was the protector of the hearth, center of civilization, and goddess of fertility and sex."

Jack felt a cold chill go up his spine. "Hathor?"

"No," Daniel responded quickly. "They seemed to have existed in different times and in different regions."

"Besides, Hathor is dead," Carter added firmly.

Thus reassured, O'Neill decided that other than watching the wet patches on Daniel's knees spread, there wasn't much going on around the gate. "Let's move out, kids."

Taking point, Jack moved along the brick paths away from the Stargate and toward Sam's readings. It was so quiet here, except for the sound of their footfalls on the path and a few early rising birds.

The path took them through a stand of trees which easily rivaled any Giant Sequoia trees back home. Jack kept looking up, not knowing what he was looking for or waiting for. Daniel nearly piled into the back of him.

"A little warning before you stop," the archeologist complained.

"Sshh," Jack warned. O'Neill looked around to see he wasn't the only one looking up at that time, both Teal'c and Carter were scanning the lower branches looking for...

Six warriors descended from the trees on cables. The green mottled uniforms of the six resembled the "forest gear" SG-1 was wearing in patterning. But the rest of their equipment was highly advanced.

Jack was fascinated by the intricate fit and texture of their armor. It was obviously lightweight and flexible. He wondered how it would hold up to a bullet. Resisting the urge to touch the armor, O'Neill met the gaze of the leader.

"Jest Umte pal-writh," the young woman directly in front of him announced. She was human, of Asian decent, delicate looking, and probably as deadly as they came. O'Neill based that assessment on the way the other warriors, all much larger, deferred to her. "UMTE PAL-WRITH," she repeated.

"I think she wants to know who we are," Daniel hazzarded. "Ute son Tau' Ri," Daniel responded.

"Ute siguahn Jaffa," she said pointedly while waving the end of her weapon towards Teal'c.

"Jaffa et Teal'c, um hedros, su Apophis," Jackson explained.

It was a good thing Daniel had a handle on this, because Jack had a serious question. How could she tell Teal'c was a Jaffa? His watch cap covered his forehead and his staff weapon was back at the base. The ZAT gun was currently out of out-of-sight. So, how had she known?

The young woman stepped toward Sam. "Ni este som Goa'uld," she accused.

"Ne, ne. Somma este," Daniel said passionately. "Somma este."

She gazed at him for a few seconds, then nodded. "You are a most interesting people," she announced, quite clearly, in English. It was touched with a British accent, but it was English. "You are a scholar traveling in a military unit with a Jaffa and an ex-host. I believe I will have the most interesting dinner-time stories for quite some time." She made a hand signal, and the warriors made two columns in an escort formation. "My name is Mira. Welcome to Gelvan. I will take you to the Hall of Elders in the capital city of White Mountain."

"Good," Jack said. "I can't wait to meet them." He fell into step with the others. "I'm Colonel Jack O'Neill." He pointed to the rest of his team. "Major Samantha Carter, Teal'c, and Doctor Daniel Jackson."

Once they cleared the woods, a magnificent city, rising up the side of a mountain whose peaks were hidden by clouds, could be seen.

"Holy Hannah," Sam exclaimed. "It's beautiful."

Daniel swiped Jack's handkerchief and cleaned his glasses. "I see Roman, African, and Egyptian building styles with an Aztec city plan." The archaeologist was probably about to launch into a lecture on why these styles were together or shouldn't have been together. Whatever it was, Jackson didn't get to it. Instead, all of them were looking where Teal'c was pointing.

"O'Neill," the big man gasped.

Spread out to the east was a vast plain spotted with crashed death-gliders, hopefully empty Jaffa armor, and what looked like part of a Mothership.

O'Neill wanted to know who these people were, and he wanted to know badly. They had fended off a Goa'uld orbital assault. That made them *his* kind of people.

"Wow," Daniel said appreciatively. "How old is that site?"

"Over a thousand years," Mira responded. "A scholar could give you a precise date. Along with a shot-by-shot recounting of the battle, presentation of artifacts, and possibly the introduction of the descendants of the combatants." Her martyred tone was going to make O'Neill laugh out loud. Jackson's face, which plainly showed he knew all scholars everywhere had been insulted, was making it worse.

"Can we be taken there?" Carter asked. "Our world barely escaped an orbital attack."

"I'm sure the scholars won't let you escape a tour," Mira smirked. Two platforms with seats glided down out of the sky.

Jack didn't want his group separated, but there was no way all of them were going to fit into one of the vehicles. O'Neill chose to ride in the vehicle with Daniel. The truth was while Jackson was far from helpless, Carter and Teal'c were far more able to defend themselves.

While O'Neill had been able to restrain himself from touching the unusual armor, Daniel had no such restraint. "This is fascinating," Jackson said as he brushed his fingers along the shoulder of the young man closest to him.

"Have you no armor?" the young man asked.

Jack judged the kid to be about twenty, maybe a little younger. His complexion was dark, his eyes black, his muscles a little overdeveloped, and he was almost as tall as Teal'c's 6'4".

"Nothing like this," Daniel whispered. "What is it made of?"

"A native mineral, which is strong and light, our ancestors discovered," the young man responded proudly. "It is tempered by the addition of other, more heavy minerals."

"I'd like to see the process," Jackson said hopefully.

"That will be up to the elders," the warrior responded.

Jack looked over at the obviously disappointed Daniel. "Translation: he's just a grunt."

"Grunt?" the warrior asked.

"A soldier," Daniel explained. "Someone low in the chain of command."

The warrior smiled. "That definitely describes me." He tapped his chest. "My name is Hanon."

As they got closer to the city, Jack began to realize the highest point which they could now see through the clouds was some kind of weapons platform. He lifted his binoculars for a better look.

"What is that he places against his face?" Hanon asked.

"Binoculars," Daniel explained. "They let him see far distances."

Hanon nodded. "But there are few settlements beyond the city. Mostly it is farming and a few designated manufacturing sites situated this close to the capitol. There are large cities and settlements many leagues to the south."

"Actually, I'm just looking at the platform," Jack explained.

Hanon frowned. "The platform and all upon it are plainly visible."

Jack lowered the binoculars and stared. The kid had to be joking. Without the binoculars he wouldn't have been able to distinguish a thing. Naturally, Daniel picked up on this right away.

"You can see the platform?" Jackson asked.

"Yes," Hanon responded confidently.

Jack raised the binoculars again. "What is the device beside the woman wearing the dark coat?"

"It is the sights they use to grid the battlefield. Every year more and more of it is cleared away and the metal reclaimed." Hanon pointed toward the battlefield which was all but a tiny dot on the horizon.

"You have incredible eyesight," Daniel remarked.

"Not for a scout," Hanon responded.

"Es summa ne donja," another warrior warned their new friend.

"What did he say?" Jack quietly asked Daniel.

"He says we wouldn't understand," Jackson whispered. "I guess they don't know the reason we are here is because we want to understand."

Jack got the distinct feeling that even though Daniel had whispered, every one of the warriors had heard. "We'll make them understand," he said just as softly. Hanon and the rest of the warriors smiled.

Stepping out of the vehicle, O'Neill was instantly reunited with the rest of his team. Carter looked like she was about to explode with excitement.

"Colonel, I believe that the scouts all have at least one enhanced sense. I've noted enhanced sight, hearing, and smell in at least two of them." She nodded toward two of their escort.

"Mechanical or biological implants?" Jack inquired.

Carter shook her head. "No. Other than their weapons and long-range communication equipment, they have no machines." She turned one of scanners towards O'Neill so he could read the display.

Jack read the numbers, which meant little to him, and grimaced. Could this ability be the result of genetic tampering or worse, could it be the result of nannites in their bodies? "Theories?" he asked when he realized his team was waiting for him to say something.

"It's not impossible for a human being to have several senses at levels which we would consider 'enhanced', but to find them so prevalent that an entire culture is influenced seems rather farfetched," Carter said firmly. "I don't think this is natural."

Jack turned toward the unusually quiet Daniel. The younger man was tapping his cheek with his fingers and worrying his thumb in agitation. "Daniel?"

Whatever information he was trying to get to the top of his brain, it remained elusive. Jackson looked up at his friend. "I remember reading something about enhanced senses, but it's just not coming to me."

"When we get back, you can look it up," O'Neill suggested. Daniel would probably submerge himself for days in his huge stack of journals. Jack would probably have to check on him every few hours just to make sure the younger man was eating and sleeping.

Jackson smiled. "Yeah, I can. But right now..."

Mira stepped up to the team. "This way please." The scout leader escorted SG-1 past the landing platform and into a glass-fronted building. It gave a beautiful view of the valley and the lake to the west, but it would give anyone with a strong fear of heights a heart attack.

For this reason, Jack kept a close eye on Daniel as they rode the elevators up six floors. Not that Daniel cared at the moment. The archeologist was putting young Hanon to a grilling which would have made any police detective proud.

"How many of your senses are enhanced?" Jackson asked the young scout.

"All of them," the man responded coolly. "But that's not unusual."

"Do you know what percentage of your people have enhanced senses?" Jackson spoke as if he were a bulldog given a new bone to hold onto.

Hanon looked toward his leader, but received no prompting from her. "A lot?" he hazarded.

"Okay, try it this way. If I were to invite ten people at random off the street to have dinner--" Daniel began.

"Is that a custom of your people?" Mira asked, sounding intrigued.

"Among some of them it is," Jackson answered.

"What kind of menu would you offer?" an older scout asked.

"A sit down or formal meal which encourages conversation and the sharing of stories," Daniel explained. "But the point is, of the ten guests I have invited, how many of them have enhanced senses?"

"Maybe six with at least one sense enhanced," Hanon answered after a pause.

"How many would have all five senses enhanced like you?" Carter asked.

Hanon frowned. "You would have to be very lucky to find one in such a small group, but if you were to invite ninety more--"

"And give up on the idea of a formal meal," Mira added. "Perhaps a buffet?" she encouraged.

"--you would have one with five realized senses," the young scout continued.

O'Neill had the distinct impression that the thought of randomly asking ten strangers to come to your home and share a meal was far more intriguing to the locals than how many extraordinary senses everyone had.

They were led into a large room with thick, rich carpets on the floors, tapestries on the walls, and silk banners hanging from the ceiling. All this was dominated by a huge polished stone table surrounded by seventeen people.

The Elders were not that old. In fact, only half of them seemed to be any older than Jack. But with their low pollution levels and emphasis on physical training, they probably just held up better. O'Neill firmly believed in the adage that "it's not the years but the mileage".

They sat at a table which was shaped like a horseshoe, with the petitioners standing or sitting in the center. "Welcome to the first city of Gelvan. We are intrigued by your visit," the oldest woman there pronounced.

"Este su mi retar don Goa'uld?" the lone blond male elder demanded.

Jack looked toward Daniel. "I don't know what he said, but I *know* I was insulted."

"He asked which Goa'uld we served or were in servitude to," Daniel explained. "Ne retar don Goa'uld," Jackson snarled. "Es beyonna flikva Koreth!" Daniel shouted. The anthropologist pumped his fist and chanted, "KORETH!" He glanced toward his teammates who followed his example. "KORETH, KORETH!" SG-1 declared. Soon all the scouts, guards, and even some of the Elders were also chanting along with them.

Without knowing how he knew, Jack realized they had just declared to the Gelvanians that Earth had no mercy for the Goa'uld.

======||(O)::::::::::::::::::(O):::::::::::::::::(O)||======

Carter made herself comfortable at the dining table of Elder Moyra. The meal promised to pack an extra five pounds onto her thighs, but Sam had no plans to skip a single dish.

Moyra was an artist whose work reflected her extraordinary eyesight and hand-eye coordination. It was one thing to see the everyday as art and quite another to bring it to life.

The dining area was surrounded on three sides by murals which made the diners feel as if they were in a lush, tropical garden overlooking an azure sea. Sitting in the corners, mimicking the support columns of an open pavilion, were statues of marble which were so realistic you almost expected them to speak to you.

"You do beautiful work," Sam said respectfully.

"Thank you, young one, but I only follow my muse," Moyra said as she passed the first dish down the table. They appeared to be tubers with thick green stalks and firm flesh. Sam watched how everyone seated before her crunched right into the vegetable and emulated them.

Despite their extraordinary abilities, these people were just as human as she. What would kill her would also kill them. The stalk was delicious and signaled the beginning of a meal she would make the people back at SGC jealous over.

"Tell us of your battles against the Goa'uld," a diminutive man with bronzed skin, black eyes, and a shock of cloud-white hair asked.

SG-1 had discussed exactly how much they wanted to share with these people before getting the go-ahead from General Hammond. She had the story formed in her mind before she even began. "The Stargate was discovered on our world, or should I say rediscovered, some 77 years ago."

Major Carter never thought of herself as good storyteller, but she had everyone's attention. Perhaps it was more the subject than her ability to present a concise narrative. When she had ended the tale, she was met with thoughtful silence.

"Well told," Teal'c announced from further down the table. The Jaffa lifted his wine glass in salute. His was the first of many compliments she received from those assembled.

After the praise had died down, she found her voice to ask one question which nagged at her. "How do you come to speak English?" she asked her hostess.

Moyra, whose ancestors must have come from North Africa, smiled. "That is a good question." The Elder paused and appeared to gather herself. "About one hundred years ago we had another visitor come through the Chappa'ai. Her name was Espa. She was half-starved and showed signs of having been beaten over a long period of time," the Elder began sadly. "Her homeland was overrun with Goa'uld. She had become so desperate she randomly activated their gate until she input a combination which activated the Chappa'ai. She had learned to do this from watching their overseers perform the task."

"Did she know where she had come from or her home symbol?" Sam asked.

"Only the local name," Moyra reported. "That was of little help to us as far as locating it on a star chart."

"What happened to her?" Carter inquired.

"She was welcomed and healed. Eventually her language was understood and taught to our children. To truly appreciate such a story, you must understand the language in which it is told." The Elder paused. "There are many translations available now, but our people still prefer to hear them in her voice speaking in her native tongue."

Moyra ruffled the thick black hair of her sinfully handsome grandson, Elton. He was twenty-two, of average height, strongly built, with a face that would make photographers weep with joy. The handsome young warrior gave his beloved grandmother his deepest, dimpled smile. "Her tales of hardship and slavery galvanized our people. The battlefield had to be cleared in preparation for the new threat that would come to our world." The Elder fell into silence.

"But it hasn't come," Elton continued, his dark eyes intent. "There are some of us who believe we need to take the fight to the Goa'uld," he said eagerly.

"How were you going to do that?" Carter asked. She leaned forward to hear the younger man's answer.

"We just need to find them, and the rest will sort itself out," Elton said confidently.

The major glanced at Moyra who looked as if she had heard this statement more times than she cared to remember. Carter recalled an outnumbered cadet in a military tactics class making a similar remark about "destroying the enemy fortress and then celebrating." He and his company were "killed" during the exercise. She turned to look at the young warrior. "Do you have addresses for any of the Goa'uld strongholds? Do you even know your own address so you can come home? Do you have a way to make sure that the DHD is operational before you come through?"

"What is a DHD?" Elton asked.

"The pedestal that controls the Stargate. We call it the DHD or Dial Home Device," Carter explained.

"How do *you* tell?" Elton asked. Moyra seemed pleased by this obvious question. Perhaps it showed that her grandson was doing more thinking.

"We have mobile surveillance equipment we put through the gate before we go. It does our first surveillance. Because once we get through and find there is no way back, it's already too late." Carter watched the young man process this information.

Elton frowned. "Our surveillance equipment is for extremely long range and orbital situations. I don't think we have much in localized systems."

"Of course not," Sam agreed. "If you wanted to see something you could easily detect it better than with most of the equipment we use for the task, but Elton, *you* couldn't do it without going through the gate."

Moyra tapped the table for silence and received it. "Perhaps the people of Gelvan and the people of the Tau' Ri," she paused, "can help each other with our mutual and sworn enemies."

Carter tried not to get too excited. During their meeting with the Elders, it was plain some of them wanted to join with Earth immediately, others were cautious, and still others thought the SGC would only use their people as cannon fodder. They debated, sometimes loudly, for about two hours then broke for dinner. Elder Moyra had invited SG-1 to her home which was just a short walk away from the Hall of Elders.

The blond man, who first spoke against them, had also been invited to attend the dinner. During the round of greetings, he was introduced to Sam as Scholar Ian. Ian was the recently retired head of the White Mountain Weapons Research facility. He had smiled broadly when she remarked that he seemed terribly young to be retiring. After that the ice between SG-1 and the scholar was non-existent.

"What will your people say about your discovery?" Ian asked Carter.

Sam stole a glance at Jack, Daniel, and Teal'c. Daniel was holding forth on some story which had the two women flanking him mesmerized. Teal'c was listening to a female warrior's tale. O'Neill was the only one watching Sam. His little head nod told her he expected her to speak for them.

"Actually, they will be quite excited," she said truthfully. "Except for intelligence from the Tok'ra and some scientific advice from other planets, we've pretty much been fighting this battle alone." She sipped more of the excellent wine. "Allies would be a great help."

"Who are the Tok'ra?" Ian inquired.

Sam thought carefully on how she should phrase this. From what she had seen, any Goa'uld who showed their face would be cut down faster than the blink of an eye. "They are of the same race as the Goa'uld, but they fight to bring about their downfall and free the slaves of the System Lords."

Elton rose to his feet and nearly tipped over the serving platter that was going past him at the time. "They are Goa'ulds?" he asked aghast.

"No," Carter said firmly. "They are the same race, but not the same people." Elton seemed unconvinced. "Elton, if someone were to challenge you, damage your property, or hurt your children, and you sought them out--after getting satisfaction from this person, would you then go on to kill his family, friends, and even nodding acquaintances?"

Elton looked shocked. "Of course not!"

"Why not?" she asked pointedly.

"They are not at fault for this person's actions and should not suffer because of them," Elton replied. He did not see the look of pride on his grandmother's face, but Sam did.

"Then would you blame the person and the people who sent them to your home?" Carter continued.

"Yes. They would be involved and fully responsible," the young warrior replied.

"Then you must understand what I am saying. The Tok'ra and the Goa'uld are not to be considered the same people. You can't lump them together." Carter hoped her point was coming across. If they were to be allies, they could ill afford for the Gelvanians to come after the Tok'ra as well as the Goa'uld.

"Well said," O'Neill remarked from his end of the table. The colonel made the mistake of leaving his wine glass unattended and a well-meaning diner refilled it for him. The local wine was delicious, but it would soon go to their heads.

"Was it easy for you to separate them?" Ian asked. The blond man's intent blue eyes searched her face.

"Not at first," Sam admitted, "but we have the same goals. What they do is more dangerous than most people can understand, but it is necessary. Their intelligence and help have kept millions of my people from dying."

Carter glanced toward her commanding officer, but O'Neill was loading up his plate with the delicate stuffed birds. He was the last one at the table and was encouraged to 'finish' each platter. Luckily for Jack, Teal'c was only a couple of chairs away and could help the colonel consume the food.

"Tell me, how did you defeat Bast?" Sam asked.

"Our people were selected from the best warriors the Goa'uld Bast could find," Ian began. "While we make good Jaffa, we were not suited for hosts."

This ended Daniel's private lecture and brought the archaeologist's attention firmly to the other end of the table. "Why is that?" he called.

"Our expanded senses drove them mad," Ian responded. "No Gelvanian has ever been joined for more than a week. The Goa'uld simply couldn't handle the stimulation. Most vacated or died inside the host."

"But because your people could still be made into Jaffa, they didn't try to wipe you out," Daniel noted.

Ian snarled, but not at Jackson or the statement. "We still had our uses. Fighting her wars, protecting her property... being her property. We made her one of the most powerful of the Goa'uld System Lords, but it wasn't enough for her."

"What provoked the rebellion?" O'Neill asked. "Not that I think it has to be anything more than waking up with a bad case of bed-head." The colonel smiled as he used his fingers to manipulate his hair into the classic "bad hair day" look. Those at the table chuckled, with the noted exception of Teal'c.

"She wanted more loyal Goa'uld to serve her. For that, she needed hosts." Ian paused to sip his wine. "Bast started a program to selectively breed more children with no enhanced senses--," Ian began.

"To be used as hosts," Teal'c finished.

Ian nodded. "You can say that it was the final weak brick before the collapse of a rotting wall. Our people galvanized together in a way which remains unchanged even to this day. They struck quickly and efficiently, and Bast was destroyed and her loyal followers were wiped from this world. No one was allowed to escape."

"What about the Jaffa who were once your people?" Teal'c asked.

Carter could see why this question was of special interest of the big man. What did the people think of the Jaffa?

"Sadly," Moyra began, "some were still loyal to Bast, and they died. Those who refused to stand with her were allowed to live. But as each of the Jaffa's Goa'uld became mature the parasites who would rule us were destroyed. As there were no longer any infant Goa'uld to re-implant them, the Gelvanian Jaffa died off."

"Bast must have been a queen, like Hathor," Carter suggested. "If she was in isolation here, where were the infant Goa'uld coming from?"

O'Neill shuddered and was immediately comforted by the ladies on either side of his chair. Sam could tell her commanding officer was eating that up.

"You have given us much to think about, Major Carter," Elder Moyra announced. "I believe tomorrow's meeting will go differently."

"Very differently," Elder Ian agreed.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Major General George Hammond met SG-1 at the end of the ramp. Their hurried message of the previous day had intrigued him--allies with advanced technology, superior weapons, and extraordinarily gifted warriors. O'Neill led the team down the ramp. The colonel was smiling, which was always a good sign.

"Welcome back, SG-1," Hammond announced in his rough baritone. Only those who knew him well could detect the almost boyish excitement in his voice.

"Glad to be back, Sir. I was afraid the Gelvanians were going to feed us to death." O'Neill held his hand over where he expected his potbelly to be located. "We had to roll Daniel through the gate." Doctor Jackson pretended to cuff O'Neill as he moved down to the floor. "Teal'c required a forklift."

"But I made a lot of friends, O'Neill," the stalwart Jaffa reminded his commander.

Jack sighed. "He's finally met warriors who are as serious as he is," the colonel lamented.

"Debriefing in one hour," Hammond pronounced. Any earlier, and the group would be too rushed to give an in-depth analysis of the potential of PH-4506 or Gelvan. Any later and the excitement would be too much for the general to bear.

It was rough being the sensible one.

"General, could we make that in about two hours?" Jackson asked. "I need to do a search on anthropology papers about enhanced senses. We're going to need some expert help."

"Okay, debriefing at 14:00 hours," George said gravely. How was he going to be able to wait that long?

Daniel dashed into his lab after dropping off his gear. He had spent the team's down time organizing and cross-referencing his research and journals so others could use them from the central computer. An early bonus of this organization was Sam had been able to look up the Goa'uld Hathor and assess her danger to the base.

Jackson tried 'enhanced senses' and 'tribal', the two phrases he was most certain he recalled. The problem with devouring journals was he couldn't find room in his conscious mind for all he had read. That was the job computers were meant to fulfill.

Eighteen seconds after making his request, the computer spit out sixty-two articles. The name, Blair Sandburg, appeared again and again. Daniel read the first article, 'Tribal Guardians in Pre-Columbian Peru', in the journal "Archive of Archaeology and Anthropology", also affectionately known as the Triple-A. One rarely read undergraduate work in the venerated publication.

There were seven articles in the Triple-A alone for this man. Starting when he was a nineteen-year-old undergrad up until his all-but-dissertation rank at the age of twenty-nine. The last three years of his publishing history, Sandburg had put out no less than sixteen articles on the police. Then the man just vanished from publishing. Another search found the reason.

Despite the preponderance of evidence that these 'tribal guardians' existed, and Daniel's own experience of these 'Sentinels', Sandburg had denounced his work. But only after his subject, Detective James Ellison, had been outed as a Sentinel and nearly killed by a vengeful escaped prisoner, who also had been a professional killer Ellison sent to prison.

Sandburg had left academia and gone on to the police academy where he graduated with honors. Those nearly four years at his sentinel's side had probably given him an edge over all the other cadets.

After only five months on the street, Sandburg had resigned and left Cascade. It didn't take long for Daniel to find out why. Three spree killers had escaped during a prison transfer and headed into Cascade. Their leader, Willie Tekko, had broken into the home of the woman who had testified against him. She and her elderly parents were tied to chairs and beaten.

Sandburg and Ellison arrived at the apartment, not because they had been called, but to warn and move the family. It was a stand-off between cops and criminals with the hostages providing the buffer.

Blair had summoned help, but his calls were ignored by the three patrol cars in the neighborhood. His help came from the downtown headquarters, but not before it hit the fan. Ellison took a gunshot wound to the side, the elderly man, Ronald Williams, died of his injuries, and Sandburg had to kill the three escapees.

The trial for the patrolmen had been a sensation. The four officers who had heard and ignored Sandburg's pleas lost their jobs, most of their worldly possessions, and four years of their lives to prison. Sandburg resigned. His simple statement that he couldn't protect the public if the police wouldn't back him up had brushed his earlier embarrassment out of the public mind.

So, where was Sandburg now? Jackson started a new search.

"Daniel, we require the pleasure of your company," Jack announced as he shook the archaeologist's shoulder.

Jackson looked up from the computer screen. "What? I've got two hours, Jack."

"Which you have used, Danny-boy. Come on, Hammond doesn't like to be kept waiting," O'Neill cajoled. He looked at the screen. "Did you find your article?"

Jackson got to his feet and shook the stiffness out of his limbs. "Actually, I've found several. All of them written by the same man."

O'Neill subtly pushed Daniel toward the door. "Aging, white-haired, and bespectacled?" the colonel asked as they went down the hall.

"No. Actually, he's younger than I am." Daniel grinned. He knew at times like this, Jack could get touchy about his age.

"Still in short pants?" O'Neill asked with a raised eyebrow.

"No. Just a little younger than I am." He turned toward his friend. "I *am* over thirty, you know."

"Yes, I do... Grandpa." Jack grinned.

Daniel gave Jack a friendly thump, then held the door of the conference room for him. They took their seats across from Hammond. Carter and Teal'c flanked Daniel and Jack. SG-1 made their report.

Hammond sat back and chewed on the information his people had given him. Even seeing the films and test results could barely force George to believe that (a) such people existed, and (b) they wanted to help.

But Carter's report had pointed out a flaw with these people. Despite years of training to use their special senses, the young warriors who had volunteered had little true battle experience. This lack of experience translated into occasional blank times for the sentinels.

According to Jackson, in the past sentinels were paired with someone who had one or no enhanced senses to stay with them while they worked their magic. These protectors or backup were almost forgotten now as centuries of no real threat had diminished the need for their help. This was where Blair Sandburg would be able to instruct them.

Daniel had reported that without any real help from anyone, Sandburg had turned his subject, James Ellison, from a man who seemed ready to commit himself to a many-times decorated detective in a high crime city.

But would a man who had been so let down by the police want to throw in with the military?

Carter cleared her throat and interrupted the general's thoughts. "Sir?"

Hammond looked at SG-1. "I was just thinking while Sandburg might be just what we need but, after the incident in Cascade, I doubt he would want to have anything to do with us."

Jackson smiled, taking more years off his already youthful face. "Sir, this man is and will always be an anthropologist. We will be offering him a chance to fulfill his dream in a way he could have never imagined." Daniel waved his hand toward the windows which looked out onto the Stargate. "It's what keeps me going since...." Daniel broke off. Quietly, the rest of SG-1 gently touched their teammate. Hammond was glad to see Daniel was still being supported through his grieving for the wife he had searched for so long, only to have her die within inches of him. Jackson looked toward his team and smiled. The archaeologist turned back toward the general. "Let me talk to him, Sir. He'll be here, I guarantee it."

The general allowed only the tiniest of smiles to touch his lips. He couldn't imagine anyone surviving a full-frontal Jackson assault. "Where is he now?"

"I don't know, but I'll find out," Jackson said firmly.

"Meanwhile, I'll do some research on this Ellison person," Jack volunteered. "His name sounds very familiar to me."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Blair hopped out of his battered jeep and dashed into the small house where he slept, occasionally ate, and worked. He had two more beautiful 'oral tradition' stories of the Seminole tribe of Southern Florida to put into his database. Advances in technology allowed him to maintain the tradition of not writing down the stories but still storing them for generations to come.

Sandburg pushed through his unlocked door to find three people sitting in his small living room, waiting on him. Two of them were Air Force officers, the third was obviously not. There was something familiar about this man, but nothing Blair could place at the moment. The older man rose and held out his hand.

"Blair Sandburg, my name is Colonel Jack O'Neill," he announced as he shook Blair's hand. "We've come here to offer you a job."

Sandburg looked at the three faces and wondered who was pulling a gag, and who thought he was worth their time to pull a gag. "That's... interesting," he said nonchalantly. "What kind of job?"

"Blair, my name is Daniel Jackson. I'm an archaeologist--"

Sandburg *knew* he had seen this guy before. "You're the one with the 'Cross-pollination of Ancient Civilizations' theory, right?"

Daniel blushed. "That's me." He shook Blair's hand. "At least I know you won't call me a crackpot. We've both been far ahead of the rest of our colleagues in our respective fields," he added seriously.

Sandburg pushed down the knot forming in his throat. If they were here to get Jim or make him show them how to control Jim, they were in for a big surprise. "That work was invalid." He reached back and held open the door for his guests. "I'm sorry you wasted your time."

O'Neill smiled. "Sandburg, we are not interested in James Ellison. I know you'd do anything to protect him from--"

"The establishment," Daniel threw in.

Jack glared, then continued. "The military. But, quite frankly, Mr. Sandburg, Ellison is too old for what we need."

"Too old? He's your age," Blair countered.

"Exactly," Jack agreed. "Too old." O'Neill grinned.

"Blair, my name is Major Samantha Carter," the woman began. "Can I call you Blair?"

Sandburg smiled. He couldn't help himself. Beautiful women were his weakness. Actually, women in general were his weakness. "Yes, Major Carter."

She offered her hand for him to shake. "My friends call me Sam."

"This is important, Blair. We can't tell you everything--" O'Neill was interrupted by Jackson again.

"But we will once you sign on," Daniel threw in.

"We have a tape for you to see," Carter announced. She held a video tape up. The tape was inside a tape lock which required a key and a code to remove. If you were to try to pry the lock off, the tape would be instantly destroyed. Funny the things you learn about when you worked with the police.

Sandburg had a VCR. It, like most of the equipment he was using, was borrowed from the University of Florida, Miami. Sam popped in the tape and moved aside for Blair. Eight minutes later, Blair knew he had to help these people.

Young men and women of varying cultural backgrounds, exhibiting full sentinel senses, dashed across the screen in some kind of battle exercise. The scene looked almost like something from a movie--an alien invasion or some futuristic genre. Watching these young sentinels zone out again and again was heartbreaking.

"*They* need your help, Blair," Carter said softly. "This isn't about the military or even this country. It's about those young people who want to work with us, but they have problems."

"I need to take care of some things before I can go," Blair said quietly.

"We can help you with that," O'Neill said, smiling.

Sandburg had expected to take *days* to pack, return the equipment he was responsible for, and finish up the paper which would accompany the stories on the university website as well as reside in the archives. He only had to worry about the paper. Whatever this "project" was, it allowed O'Neill to order about a large number of people who took care of all those details while Sandburg finished his work.

The only thing he had left to do was tell Jim he wasn't in Florida. His mother had two e-mail accounts she kept up with, and he sent a message to both of them.

Sandburg dialed the familiar number for the first time in two months.

"Ellison," the morning-rough voice of Jim responded.

"Hey, Jim," Sandburg said softly. "How are you doing?"

"Chief, it's good to hear your voice. How is your project coming?" Jim sounded enthusiastic--perhaps for the work or perhaps just from hearing from Blair.

"I've finished it. In fact, I'm moving onto another project," Sandburg said as he fought not to twist the phone cord. Ellison would hear that and worry. "It's not totally tacked down right now, but it looks good."

"Blair, I'm glad you're been able to continue your career. I..." Ellison paused. "I never really thanked you--"

"You're alive, and you're doing what you love, Jim. That's all the thanks I need." Blair clinched his fist to keep his nervous fingers from tapping on the phone. "How are you doing?"

"No real problems, Chief. Simon and Connor look after me. You've trained me well, and I appreciate it. Funny, I appreciate you a lot more now that you're gone, than I ever did when I *knew* you would always be here." Ellison chuckled.

"That's the sign of a good teacher, Jim," Sandburg said proudly. They both laughed for a few seconds, then went quiet. "I'll e-mail or call you when I get settled. Take care of yourself. Tell Simon, Megan, and Daryl I said hi." Blair was about to hang up the phone when he heard Jim call out.

"Chief?" the big man's voice was showing more emotion than Ellison liked to display.

Blair clutched the phone, fearing something was wrong with his friend. "Yeah, Jim?"

"Blair, you can always come home. Okay? I just want you to know that this is still your home."

Sandburg took a deep breath. "Thanks, Jim. That's good to hear." Blair's voice dropped. "I'm all right, and I'm doing what I love. Goodbye, Jim." Blair hung up the phone.

Sandburg slept most of the way from Florida to Colorado. He had flown to sites on military transports before, but those had all been older planes. This plane was almost luxurious. The seats were large and comfortable which, when combined with the comforting drone of the engines, soon had him fast asleep. The large dinner hadn't helped either.

Daniel nudged him awake. The plane had already landed. Sandburg excused himself to wash his face and come fully awake. O'Neill kept a protective hand on Sandburg's shoulder as the four of them left the plane and climbed into a Humvee. The move reminded him of Jim.

Their driver was a squared-jawed airman who looked like he could bend steel with his teeth. He neither spoke nor truly acknowledged Blair's existence as they thundered away from the airport and onto a private, "trespassers will be arrested" road. It made Blair very nervous. Not that he would ever let these people know that.

They went *into* the mountain. Sandburg's first thought was 'missile silo', but what would that have to do with sentinels? After going through the most intense scanning he had ever experienced, he was routed to the infirmary where a very lovely doctor, Janet Fraiser, examined him as if he were going into space.

"You're in excellent condition, Blair," the doctor said as she signed off on his charts.

"Thank you, Doctor Fraiser," Sandburg said as he slipped his shirt back on.

"Call me, Janet." The doctor frowned at the thickness of his medical history file. "I see that police work is as dangerous as they say."

Blair sighed. Before he had teamed up with Jim, the most danger he had faced had been some irate tribal members and the occasional bull-necked footballer he had just flunked. Since those days of innocence, he had been shot, drugged, gassed, kidnapped, and drowned. "They don't pay them enough." ~At least the good ones,~ he added to himself. But he was letting that go. Chewing on it only hurt him, not the men who had sworn to 'serve and protect' and failed to do so.

"How's our new consultant?" Colonel O'Neill asked as he stepped into the room.

"He could probably run us both into the ground, Colonel," Fraiser reported.

"That's not saying much," Jack responded sadly.

Janet snorted. "Speak for yourself, Colonel."

Blair chuckled. He definitely liked the doctor and was warming to the colonel. He wasn't cold at all. The man told bad jokes and acted protectively toward his people. When Jack placed his arm around Blair's shoulders as they walked down the hall, Sandburg knew he had already moved into the category of being one of Jack's people.

Waiting at the door to the conference room was a large, African-American man with a sect signet set into his forehead. Blair had never seen such a thing. Nor could he imagine the Air Force, the supposed party branch of the military, allowing it.

"Blair Sandburg, may I introduce Teal'c," O'Neill began. "He's from Chulak."

Chulak must have been an island nation somewhere near Africa. Blair had never heard of it, and you had to be pretty darn obscure for Sandburg not to have heard of a place. He shook the big man's hand.

"Interesting decoration on your forehead," Blair said casually. "Is it tribal?"

"No," Teal'c intoned.

Obviously this guy was not very talkative. Blair smiled at the man and followed the colonel into the conference room. Already seated were Major Carter and a general whom he had not met.

"Welcome to the SGC, Mr. Sandburg. My name is Major General George Hammond, and this is my command." The bald man indicated a chair. "Please have a seat."

"Thank you, General." Sandburg sat down and rolled his chair closer to the conference table. Daniel squeezed right into the seat beside him. "I really think I must be in the wrong place. I thought Cheyenne Mountain tracked spatial bodies for NORAD. This is not what I was expecting."

Hammond smiled. "You'll get used to that, Blair. Around here, strange is an everyday occurrence."

"Where are my students?" Sandburg asked anxiously. He had almost expected to be able to *feel* sentinels within his range, but he didn't detect a thing. Perhaps this so-called sensation was just a bit of leftover anxiety from his run-in with Alex Barnes.

"I'm so glad to see you're eager to help," the general noted, "without even asking what's in it for you."

"General Hammond, I never expected to become a rich man doing what I do. Once, I had other opportunities which *could* have made me a rich man, but I turned away from them and honored my inner voice." Blair gazed straight into the older man's eyes.

Hammond nodded. "Blair, I'm about to tell you a story. I want you to hear me out before you start laughing."

Sandburg leaned back and listened to the General. The story made for a great adventure series, but not real life. At least, that was what he thought at first. After looking around the base and signing his life away swearing he would never utter a word about what he had seen or even what he had signed. Naomi would have swooned at the cloak and dagger turn his life had suddenly taken.

As Hammond wound down, Blair found himself wishing with all his heart this story was true. "That's quite a tale, General."

"And he tells it so well," O'Neill quipped.

The general glared at Jack, but Blair could tell the two men liked to tease each other.

"Incoming traveler," someone announced over the intercom, and lights began to flash. Hammond rose from the table and waved Blair toward the window.

Sandburg stepped up beside the larger man and waited with barely concealed excitement. The metal divider rose and revealed a two-story high ring. "The Stargate," Blair gasped. Heavily armed soldiers rushed into the room and aimed their weapons at the ring. A metal shield curved back to expose a view of the back wall.

Suddenly a huge whoosh of liquid energy surged forth from the center of the ring, then retracted into a vertical, shimmering pool. Blair had never seen anything so beautiful.

Five soldiers, three men and two women, stepped out of the ring and walked down the ramp. They were scanned by portable Geiger counters, relieved of their burdens, then herded out of the room. The shining surface vanished, again revealing a solid wall behind it.

"My God, it is real," Blair whispered.

"Mr. Sandburg?" Hammond interrupted. "Do you have any questions for me?"

Blair tore his gaze away from the ring. "Yes, I do, General. When do we leave?"

Hammond clapped the smaller man on the shoulder. "O800," he answered. "That's 8 a.m. for civilians." The general smiled.

"I'll be there," Sandburg said sincerely.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Teal'c snapped the last of the heavy gear onto their guest. Sandburg was a great deal smaller than him, but made up for it in pure excitement levels.

"I don't know why I have to have all this stuff," Sandburg complained. "I'm going to teach not take over the city."

"It has been my experience, Blair Sandburg, that situations change quickly in the universe. We could return only to find the Gelvans fighting a pitched battle with the Goa'uld."

A look of mild shock crossed the anthropologist's expressive face. "I guess it's not *that* heavy," Blair admitted. The former policeman checked his weapons.

"Well, kids," the colonel called, "we're off to see the Wizard." O'Neill entered the gate room behind Carter and Jackson.

Daniel turned and gave one of the airmen in the control room the thumbs up. Teal'c knew Jackson had been tutoring the young man for his promotional exams. The young man returned the gesture, then blushed furiously when General Hammond said something to him off-mike.

Teal'c turned toward the gate. It wouldn't do for him to be seen smiling when they were about to embark on a mission.

"Ready to go, Blair?" Carter asked.

"I think I might be able to make it there without the gate," Sandburg announced.

Teal'c was about to comment on how unwise it was for Blair Sandburg to overexcite himself *before* they departed, when the gate activated. Young Jaffa could be overwhelmed by the combination of adrenaline and their first experience with wormhole acceleration. Often it caused incapacitating nausea and muscle pain. It would be important for Teal'c not to let the anthropologist feel shame over this common reaction.

"It never gets old," Jack commented. The colonel turned toward Sandburg. "It's all right to be a little nervous about going through the gate the first time, Blair. Many a seasoned--"

Colonel O'Neill was suddenly addressing the air because Blair had dashed up the ramp. The anthropologist reached out and touched the surface of the event horizon, gasped in awe, then stepped through.

"I worked on that speech all morning," O'Neill complained.

"You can tell him on the other side," Carter suggested as she moved up the ramp and through the gate.

"It won't be the same," Jack grumped.

"Come on, Jack," Daniel said as he stepped through the ring.

"I worked on it all during breakfast," the colonel continued. "It was going to showcase my *sensitive* side."

"I believe we have left the gate to the three scientists, O'Neill," Teal'c observed. "Didn't you say something earlier about being out numbered?"

O'Neill growled low in his throat and plunged through the gate just ahead of Teal'c. When they arrived on the other side, it was not to find Sandburg emptying his stomach in the bushes. Instead the anthropologist was grilling Carter and practically bouncing with excitement.

"Woo, my hands are *cold*," he stated as he rubbed his thighs. "So, Sam, you're saying it's the same sensation no matter which direction you are traveling?"

"I'm afraid so," Carter admitted.

"Cool!" Blair announced. "I've paid good money for rides which weren't half as fun." He looked around the gate and shouldered his pack. "Which way to the city?"

Teal'c took point with O'Neill bringing up the rear. The Jaffa knew Jack was nervous about having Sandburg here. It wasn't that the former policeman couldn't take care of himself. It was because so much of the success of this operation rested on the young man's broad shoulders.

At the end of the woods, two transports were waiting to take them to the city. Mira and her squad suddenly surrounded Blair, separating him from the rest of SG-1. They touched his face, sniffed his hair, and circled him like cats stalking their prey.

Sandburg didn't seem frightened. Quite the contrary. Though only Mira was any smaller than the anthropologist, he stood his ground firmly without even reaching for his weapons.

Blair lifted up his right hand and removed the snug, black leather glove he had only put on after they left the gate. With his hand now bare, Sandburg reached out, palm flat, to press it against Mira's.

It was both sensuous and intriguing to watch this silent communication between the two people. When they dropped their hands, Mira was smiling.

"Welcome to Gelvan, teacher," she said respectfully.

O'Neill released his held breath. "Mira, may I introduce Blair Sandburg of the Tau' Ri."

Teal'c watched the young pilot of their transport carefully. The Jaffa was cataloguing the instruments by their function, a poor substitution for proper instruction, but it might save their lives in an emergency.

O'Neill had tried to keep a hold of Sandburg, but the young anthropologist was sitting in a tight knot of warriors in the first transport while SG-1, a pilot, and one lone warrior occupied the second transport.

"Don't worry, Sir, they'll give him back," Carter said warmly.

O'Neill frowned. "I don't want to have to explain to General Hammond how I lost him, and I sure don't want to explain to Jim Ellison that something happened to his friend while he was under *my* protection."

"I thought you said he was *old*, Jack," Daniel teased.

"Some of us only get more dangerous and wily with age," O'Neill countered. The pilot and warrior snickered. "What are you *kids* laughing at?" the colonel demanded.

"Nothing, Sir," the pilot squeaked. The warrior stared straight ahead, but her lips quivered under the strain of not laughing.

"I read his files, studied his missions, and I know some of the people he ran with while he was still in the game," Jack explained. "The fact that he is still breathing tells me all I need to know about how dangerous he is. Add that to enhanced senses, and you have someone who knows how to deliver pain and get to you when you think you're safe." Jack smiled as the smug expressions on the Gelvans disappeared.

Mira escorted Sandburg into the Hall of Elders and a hushed crowd. SG-1 was acknowledged, but nothing else. Teal'c moved for a better view of what Blair Sandburg was doing.

The anthropologist stepped forward and, after a few statements of greeting, placed a curved, highly polished piece of metal onto the table. Sandburg removed a small bottle with an eyedropper top. He looked around the room and signaled Elton to come forward.

"I want you to track the progress of the drops of water along the surface," Blair instructed.

"Is he nuts?" Jack asked in a whisper. "That's just the kind of thing that had them freezing up before."

Teal'c saw several people nod their heads in agreement. It really did you little good to whisper around these people.

"All right," Elton said as he moved to stand beside the older man.

"But I don't want you to just see the water, I want you to hear it as it makes its way across the surface. It may be silent to me, but it isn't to you." Blair dribbled a few drops onto the metal.

Teal'c couldn't see much other than the metal now had water on it, but the audience's attention was glued to that one piece of metal as if it held the secrets to the universe on it.

As the water fell onto the table, people began to talk excitedly. Teal'c had no idea why, but Sandburg stood proud before the Elders, and they were smiling at him.

"It was beautiful, and it *did* make a sound," Elton remarked.

"Blair Sandburg, welcome to White Mountain," Elder Moyra announced. "We accept your teachings as the first offer of value from the Tau' Ri."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Sam Carter rolled right, leveled her weapon, and shot out the lifters on the armored vehicle which was rolling toward the rest of her team. Unlike the Zat'nika'tel or ZAT guns, this was a rifle with longer range, four settings for strength, and a shorter recharge time. The drawbacks of the ZAT rifle was that it was heavy. Very heavy for a rifle. Also, it had a recoil which nearly put her flat on her back the first time she fired it. But right now, she was very grateful that Teal'c had signed one out. With a new hole ripped into the body of the mini-tank, Sam was able to kill the five Jaffa inside.

Carter slung the weapon across her back and rushed to catch up with the rest of the team. She was watching their back as she was currently the only one not seriously injured. Sam scrabbled across the smoking ruin of the tank and saw her teammates hastily dive into the bushes just off the narrow road. Taking her cue from them, Carter pressed herself against a thick tree and waited to see what had caused them to hide.

A nine member squad of Jaffa rushed from the gate back to where she had taken out the tank. As soon as they passed, Sam opened up on them. The Jaffa died before a single one of them could return fire. The major ran to catch up with her team.

Daniel was dialing out while Teal'c held up the colonel, who was unconscious. The whoosh of energy had never looked more beautiful to Sam. Carter helped Daniel up the stairs, tapped in their code, and pushed the injured man through. Teal'c carried in O'Neill while Sam guarded their backside.

A second tank rumbled toward them. Carter kept firing as she backed through the gate. Jaffa swarmed toward her but died in the kill zone she had established around the gate.

Carter had never experienced the wormhole while facing toward the back before. The visual phenomenon was totally different from the front facing view. She made a mental note to write that down and find some time to postulate theories about travel perspectives. But not before she had a nice long bath and let her bruises have a chance to heal.

"Major, what happened?" Hammond demanded as O'Neill was wheeled away on a gurney. Teal'c and Daniel hobbled toward the infirmary with some much appreciated assistance.

"Sir, we found a staging area for a minor system lord called, if you can believe this, Cthulhu. It seems they were planning to invade Abydos. They consider it abandoned now that Apophis is gone," Carter reported.

Hammond let out a small hiss. "How many are we looking at?" he asked.

"We managed to take out one of their transports, but the other two were untouched." Sam paused as she shifted the rifle to take the weight off her bruised ribs. "I estimate we're looking at about four hundred troops still left of the ones we saw."

Hammond stiffened. "How long do you think we have before they make it to Abydos?"

"They don't need the ships to invade, Sir. They can just waltz through the gate. But they would have to leave behind the heavy equipment."

Hammond nodded. "So they're planning on making a stronghold on Abydos?"

"That's my guess. The Abydonian population would be overwhelmed by the invader's technology. If the Goa'uld take their ships, it would only give us nine days to prepare, tops."

The general looked at Carter thoughtfully. She knew her face was bruised, cut, and covered in dirt and blood. "Go to the infirmary, Major and get yourself looked at."

Hammond turned toward the command center. "Establish a wormhole to PH-4506 and send a message to Dr. Sandburg. We have a joint mission for the Gelvans and the SGC."

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Jack probably could have stayed in bed another four days, but this was Abydos. In the memory of Skaara and Shau'ri, he could not let them be beaten down by the Goa'uld again. O'Neill swallowed two more aspirins and headed to the gate room.

The celebration for the newly minted *Doctor* Sandburg had been put on hold until this situation had been dealt with. Part of the young man's bonus for coming to work for the SGC was that he could tender his dissertation, have it classified, and his degree conferred from the University of Colorado at Colorado Springs.

Jack thought the guy would have taken the job with no more than the salary being offered. But Hammond wanted his newest consultant to have his duly earned degree.

Sandburg was unworried about his ceremony, he was concerned about his students. Blair had done wonders in the nineteen weeks he had been on Gelvan. He had discovered something on his first day which had slipped past the rest of the SGC. Yes, the Gelvanians spoke English, but their lettering system was their own. He had spent a good deal of time making planet-wide broadcasts with word lists their volunteers might encounter.

When SG-1 had come by for a report and to relay Blair's messages and mail, Jack had found a huge list of "danger" words, "weapon" words, and "direction" words being displayed on a community screen.

The man definitely knew how to adapt.

The only thing bothering O'Neill as they prepared to move out was Sandburg was dressed in armor and was carrying both a ZAT gun and a rifle. "Come to see us off?" the colonel asked casually.

Blair looked at Jack as if he had sprouted antenna. "I'm going to look after my students," he said in a voice which would not allow an argument.

O'Neill backed off. It was out of his hands. Sandburg was a grown man, and Ellison could never get to Jack as long as he never left the base. The colonel knew how dangerous a former black ops person could be, and Ellison's file was heavy with sticky situations he had prevailed in. Plus, all those feats had occurred before the man's senses became turbo-charged.

SG-5, SG-2, and SG-9 all had a sentinel integrated into their teams. They would provide the prototype for all future augmented teams. Naturally, they were on this mission. Gelvan had sent thirty officers through for briefing. Once the mission was set, the Gelvanians had returned to their home world to gather strike teams.

Jack stepped through the gate just behind Daniel. On the other side, hundreds of Gelvans held the gate. "Damn," Jack whispered. Due to the sudden nature of the assignment, the Gelvans could only promise two hundred warriors to achieve the mission. They would seek volunteers from outside the established military.

Obviously the need for a good cause to fight for was even more pronounced than even Sandburg had suggested. "Have you got a head count for me, Carter?"

Sam looked around and smiled. "A lot, Sir." That was the shortest, most non-technical answer she had ever given him. Too bad he wouldn't have time to savor it. It was time to move.

Jack walked up to the side of his counter-part, Mira. "Are we ready to move?"

"Yes, a small force is coming to investigate why their Jaffa are not answering their calls." She pointed toward the recently and seriously deceased Jaffa. "A larger force follows them."

O'Neill nodded. "I want to remind your people we may have Tok'ra operatives in those ships. If they give you the hand signal, you must spare them." Jack used the American Sign language to spell out TOKRA. It was simple to learn, easy to remember, and had an instant association. It was Blair's idea. That alone had been worth the investment of both a salary and the settling of his student loans.

Mira nodded. "Blair has drilled us daily in this, Colonel. During battle, there is little we can do, but once they have been captured, the Tok'ra will be spared." The Gelvan military leader made a strange whistling sound, and the Gelvan forces melted into the hills.

"The only trail I see is the ruts of the anti-ship weapon they have," Teal'c remarked with admiration. The Jaffa moved away from the gate and back toward the staging area where he had come so close to dying.

O'Neill shook those thoughts from his mind. It was show time.

If someone had told him a year ago he would have his doctorate not from Rainier but from UCCS, be a former cop, and be running toward a war zone to save another planet, Blair would have laughed until he passed out. But here he was, running along side the anti-ship cannon they called the Thunderbolt. He was carrying an extra control panel, the lightest of the components, in case, God forbid, the person carrying the primary panel could not keep up. Not keep up for a Gelvan meant they were dead or on their way to death.

"Blair, hedes sun qua e Thunderbolt bay tomma," Herschel grunted.

"English, English," Sandburg demanded. He had to insist on this all the time.

"Blair, we need to move the Thunderbolt to the most solid and protected ground. It will be the first thing they target."

Okay, that made sense. His translation hadn't even been close--'we need to dance on the Thunderbolt and hiss.'

"Okay," Sandburg agreed. They moved to a good spot underneath a stone ledge. All around them, the enemy was being engaged. The anthropologist relieved one of the warriors and helped in the assembly of the weapon. He was a good shot, Jim had made sure of that, but these people had him totally outclassed.

The weapon fired up, waiting for its first target. They arrived within ten minutes of the Thunderbolt going on line. Teal'c's staff weapon was the first warning Blair had of aerial assault. ZAT rifles' energy blasts and LAWS rockets rose up in waves to meet the line of Death Gliders.

A larger support ship came up behind the gliders. The Thunderbolt fired. For a second, there was no sound. Suddenly, there was a flash which obscured the larger ship, followed by a crack. It was as if a heavy limb had broken off an extremely tall tree and fallen in a formerly silent forest. Where the ship had once been there was a fireball which surged forth and consumed three Death Gliders which had been flying too close to the support ship.

A second wave of Death Gliders came on. Instead of waiting for more of the larger ships, the Thunderbolt began firing at the fighters.

Sandburg kept doing visual sweeps on his crew. The constantly shifting soundscape might distract them, causing them to zone.

Ananya, one of Sandburg's best Guides-in-training, turned from where she had been monitoring the battle. "Blair, we have a lot of wounded on the ground. Some of us should go and help."

Sandburg agreed. He sent two of his five member crew out to help their comrades. Blair stepped up to take point and powered his weapon. He hoped he wouldn't need it. Not just because he didn't want to kill someone, it was because the first time he had fired one of these rifles, he had nearly ended up on his butt. He had never used a weapon with such a recoil.

The first of the wounded were brought into their protected position, forcing Blair and the other guards to move out into a less protected position. Sandburg couldn't explain how he knew he was targeted, only that he turned approximately 45 degrees and fired. Two Jaffa flew through the air like discarded dolls. It was utterly surreal.

Later, it would remind him of an apartment building and a hall with water-damaged walls. Later, it would remind him of three desperate men turned into three corpses, three terrified hostages pleading for their lives, a kindly old man's last breath, one detective's brush with death, and the help that hadn't come.

Sandburg scrambled up the hill in which their shelter was set. Six more Jaffa, seven more shots, and five more dead. Blair's arms were going numb as he continued to sweep the area with continuous fire. Four more Gelvanians join him and they stood side-by-side holding back the enemy and securing this haven for their wounded.

All around them, the firing stopped. From his vantage point, Sandburg could see rows of Jaffa on their knees, Death Gliders in pieces, and a screaming Goa'uld being held by a nonplused Teal'c. The Jaffa struck the Goa'uld in the face, and the screamer hung limply in the big man's grasp.

Now they just had to attend to the clean up.

/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/\/

Jim held still as Simon straightened his tie. "Can't go to Sandburg's graduation party looking like a slob," the captain teased.

Ellison smiled weakly. "Thanks, Simon."

Banks placed his hand on the smaller man's shoulder. "Are you okay, Jim? I thought you would be excited for Sandburg. I mean after Rainier..." Simon paused. "Not that he blames you--"

"I know he doesn't blame me, Simon. It's just that I've lost another reason for him to come back to Cascade. He has his degree."

"Jim, the fact we were invited means we're still his friends." Banks gave his detective a reassuring pat. "The man deserves this, Jim, and he deserves our *unfiltered* enthusiasm."

Ellison nodded. "I know." Jim shrugged. "Who knew I would miss the guy so much?"

Banks slipped into his coat. "I miss him too. But he's obviously made a new life for himself around here."

A loud knock on the door signaled the arrival of Simon's son, Daryl. The young man was a freshman at Duke University now. Jim let him in. "Hey, Daryl, nice suit."

Young Banks adjusted his button cover. "Someone has to hold up the honor of Cascade's 'Best Dressed'." He turned so they could see his well-fitting navy blue suit.

Simon rolled his eyes. "Where's Rafe?"

"The last time I saw him, he had cream all over his face," Daryl reported.

Jim snapped his fingers. "I *knew* that skin couldn't be natural." Ellison frowned and rubbed his face. "What was the name of this cream?"

"Any day now, gents," Andrew Rafe announced from the hall. The dark-haired detective was handsomely turned out in a charcoal-gray suit and red tie. "There are bound to be a bevy of beautiful and educated women--"

"Who will avoid you like the plague," Daryl finished.

Rafe scowled. "College has ruined you, Daryl. You used to adore me."

"I also used to have a thing for the Pink Ranger," the college student confessed. "But I outgrew it."

Simon chortled and hugged his child. "That's my boy."

"The Pink Ranger?" Rafe asked incredulously.

"Come on, guys," Ellison interrupted. "We need to get going early to find this place."

"Think he'll know we've only come for the free eats?" Daryl teased. He ducked under his father's swinging arm.

"Ease up on that stuff, Daryl," Ellison pleaded. "I want..." Jim trailed off. What did he want? He wanted his guide to come home. But was that the best thing for his friend?

Daryl squeezed Jim's shoulder. "He knows how we feel, Jim. But let's face it. He had *nothing* left in Cascade but us."

Ellison nodded. He didn't bother to refute what the college student had said, nor did he bother to take the stoop out of his shoulders. ~We have to let Blair have his own life.~

The Downtown Sheraton in Colorado Springs was the duplicate of its Cascade cousin, right down to its parking garage. The Cascade group--Jim, Simon, Daryl, Andrew, Megan, and Joel, found the Miner's Ballroom easily. Inside the ballroom, they found many Air Force personnel and civilians milling around. Blair was standing in a knot of beautiful women--as usual. Jim nearly gasped. Sandburg had sheared off his long hair in favor of a shorter, curlier style. He looked so different.

"I see the old Sandburg moves are still working," Simon noted. The big man led the group to Blair's side. "Hey, *Doctor* Sandburg," he called. "I like the hair."

"Simon! Guys!" Blair hugged the captain, then moved around his old friends giving out hugs, ending with Jim. The two old roommates clung to each other for a moment before stepping back. "I can't believe all of you made it."

Jim assessed his guide. Blair had been doing heavy, outside, physical labor on a regular basis. He wasn't staying where there was a lot of pollution because the lack of the muted stench of civilization covering Blair's personal scent.

Ellison didn't recognize the scent of either the younger man's soap or shampoo, therefore they were of foreign manufacture. Also, they had been purchased with an eye, or nose, to their effect on a sentinel. Something the younger man had fallen out of the habit of doing the last time Jim had seen him while Sandburg was setting up in Florida.

So, Blair had another sentinel.

Blair turned around and placed his hand on the arm of a beautiful, blonde major. "Everyone, this is Doctor Samantha Carter. Sam, these are my friends."

Carter smiled. "So, you weren't making them up. I bet I can guess who everyone is." She looked around. "Inspector O'Connor, Captain Banks, Detective Rafe, Detective Ellison, Captain Taggart, and you must be Daryl," she correctly assessed.

Blair placed his arm around the waist of a beautiful brunette. "Everyone, this is Doctor Janet Fraiser." Sandburg's arm stayed around the newly introduced woman's waist. She obviously didn't mind.

"What kind of a doctor is also an officer, Doctor Carter?" Daryl asked.

"I'm an astrophysicist," Samantha replied.

"Cool," Daryl said admiringly. "Funny that an astrophysicist would work underground."

"It's irony, Daryl. The world is ripe with irony," Carter responded.

"What kind of doctor are you?" Jim asked Fraiser.

"The old fashioned medical kind," Janet responded.

"She checks your heart and makes it race," Blair said before planting a kiss on Fraiser's cheek.

Ellison would have bet anything this woman was not a sentinel. Her response to Blair and his response to her notwithstanding, she was not the reason he was here. Jim scanned the room, looking for his replacement.

"Jim? Jim?" Sandburg interrupted. "Let me introduce you to my boss."

Ellison turned around and greeted the older, balding man. "It's nice to meet you, General Hammond. Blair speaks very highly of you.

"And we think very highly of him," Hammond responded in his distinct, deep, and slightly southern-touched tones. "He's been an invaluable asset to us."

"Tracking spatial bodies," Jim droned.

"Actually, Jim," Sandburg interrupted. "Cheyenne Mountain is just one of many facilities which are all tied in to keep us on top of what's happening in space. I work as a liaison with the new facilities which are in out-of-the-way places. I make sure the indigenous population is able to contribute as well as benefit from the partnership."

The rest of their friends babbled happily over Blair's important job, which would put his education and experience to good use. But Jim was silent. Sandburg wasn't lying, but he was holding something back. Where were these places? Who were these people? How much danger was involved? Why was it secret?

Blair had just intimated that he was somewhere beyond civilization, but then why did his hair and nails show he had regular access to professional grooming?

Jim barely paid attention as they met yet another doctor, this time a man named Jackson, a full bird colonel named O'Neill, and a big man named Teal'c, wearing a hat. The last man's rank was never mentioned, but he held himself like someone who was used to command. But what kind of name was Teal'c?

General Hammond made a nice speech, Simon had a few words, then Jim spoke for a few minutes. His speech was well received, but he honestly couldn't remember what he said. Ellison wandered out of the room and went to the parking lot where he knew his guide would find him.

"Hi, Jim." Sandburg said as he clapped Ellison on the shoulder.

Jim went right for the jugular. "Okay, Chief. Where are you really working?"

Blair crossed his arms and looked like a stranger to Jim. It wasn't just the short hair and the stylish clothes, Sandburg had changed on the inside. He had polish, he had poise, and he had people counting on him. It was written in the way he was standing.

"It's classified, Jim," Blair responded. "I *know* you know what that means."

"Okay, I do know what that means. But just between you and me, Sentinel to Guide, have I been replaced? Do you have a new sentinel?" Jim waited. He had no idea what he would do if Blair said there was a new sentinel in his life.

Blair smiled. "No, you haven't been replaced." Sandburg took the older man's arm. "Jim, just between you and me, Guide to Sentinel, you can't *be* replaced." He gently squeezed his friend's arm. "There are other sentinels, man. You and Alex are not the end of the line. Not by a long shot." Blair dropped his hand. "They need me. They have the people to be their guides, but no training to work together. I'm saving lives and making a difference."

Jim was incredulous. "For the military? Dear God, Blair, do you know what they will do to sentinels in the military?" Ellison waved his hands in agitation.

"Jim, these people were already in the military. I wouldn't recruit, you know that." Sandburg reached out and shook his sentinel. "You. Know. That."

Jim nodded, but was still a little shaken. "I'm sorry."

"Look, they want to be where they are and doing what they are doing. They just need some help. In exchange, the Air Force gets support and facilities to do their job. I am making difference here, and it feels good."

Jim's voice dropped. "You were making a difference in Cascade, Chief."

"Not in the end, Jim. Not at all. I had built something there, but Naomi stabbed it and eventually, it bled to death." Blair looked back at the glass doors which led back to his party.

"I noticed that she wasn't here," Ellison said gravely.

"Guilt trips should be solo journeys, Jim. If you think she had a hard time accepting me working for the police, just think how she reacted to me becoming a consultant for the military."

"Fainting?" Jim inquired.

"Something like that." He patted the taller man on the arm. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

Ellison sighed. Any hope he had of taking Sandburg home just died. "Take good care of yourself, Blair, and don't forget my phone number."

"Never, man. Never," Sandburg assured his friend as they hugged.

======||(O)::::::::::::::::::(O):::::::::::::::::(O)||======

"I'm here for an entire week, Janet," Blair purred as he gently pressed the doctor against the wall of the infirmary. He reveled in the warmth and strength of his lady's body. Three weeks apart was too long for him, and hopefully for her also. "I'm thinking about you," he kissed her fingers, "me," he kissed her palm, "and a private table for two at Catherine's." He kissed her mouth. "What are *you* thinking?"

"That I'll be very lucky to get anything to eat," she responded with a slow smile.

"I *like* the way you think," Blair said as he went in for another long, slow kiss.

An airmen cleared her throat. "Doctor Sandburg, General Hammond wants you to come to the conference room immediately."

Blair stepped back from his lady with serious regret. He was *supposed* to be on leave for a week, but when Hammond called, Sandburg jumped. "Don't forget where we were."

"I won't," Janet promised.

Sandburg hotfooted it to the conference room. That was the way they liked things to be done around here. He stepped into the room and found SG-1 and Mira at the table with the General. "You called me, General?"

"Have a seat, Doctor."

"What's up?" Blair asked as he slid into the chair beside Teal'c.

"SG-3 failed to report," Hammond announced.

Sandburg didn't like the sound of that. Colonel Makepeace's team was a tough and punctual bunch. After his week of R and R, Blair was scheduled to train SG-3 to work with Mira, their new Sentinel. Captain Stan Powell was to be trained as her guide. Now what?

"We need to send a team in to look for them." Hammond continued.

Sandburg was about to ask what this had to do with him. After all, he was a scientist not a scout. Then he looked over at Mira. She was to be paired with Stan Powell and no doubt wanted to find her guide. Until then, she needed a guide, and he was the only one currently available.

Despite the influx of soldiers, staff, and equipment from Gelvan, the SGC was busier than ever. The planned attack on Abydos had been just the beginning of several power moves by minor Goa'uld warlords. The Gelvanians were now manning forts on Abydos, PC-8774, PX-9921, and P3-2206, which meant they needed more training officers, coordinators, and teachers. Right now, SG-1 was the only team on base. They couldn't let anything happen to their people. Not just because of the strategic importance of SG-3, but because they were *their* people.

"When do we leave, sir?" Blair asked.

======||(O)::::::::::::::::::(O):::::::::::::::::(O)||======

Teal'c twisted the Jaffa's neck with quiet and brutal efficiency. Silently, he passed the deceased's weapons back to Mira. Her skill in finding this well hidden stash of weapons and food had impressed him. The converted cave was warm, dry, and blessed relief from the constant heavy, ice-touched rain.

"Man, I thought I left all this behind in Cascade," Blair Sandburg lamented as he attempted to squeeze the water out of his hat. The anthropologist pointedly did not look at the body Teal'c had moved to the back of the shelter.

"How close are we to the camp now?" O'Neill asked as he checked his weapons.

"We're about an hour away from the camp," Mira explained. "There are patrols between us and them. All on foot. I have not heard a vehicle in a long time. The tracks from the vehicle which took SG-3 away from the gate are still visible. The ground must have been very dry before this hard rain." The sentinel wiped her face with the towel Daniel offered.

"Is there any pattern to the patrols?" Teal'c asked.

Mira shook her head. "No. They seemed to be responding to various communications or just avoiding obstacles the storm is putting in front of them."

Jack squatted down beside the sentinel. "I know we've been running you pretty hard, Mira, but we need to keep pushing. The moment this guy doesn't check in, they will send someone to find out why."

"And we will be surrounded," Teal'c finished. The Jaffa knew the sentinel was probably very tired. In a sense, she had covered every bit of ground they had traversed by foot or by sight at least three times.

The extensive use of her faculties, combined with the unfamiliar terrain and unforgiving weather must have had the young woman at the end of her limits, but she rose to her feet with no more prodding from the colonel. "I'm ready," she reported.

Sandburg poured the last of the coffee he carried into a cup and pressed into Mira's hands. She sipped it gratefully while scanning around the enclosure. "They have a lot of equipment here. Why is all this so far from the camp?"

"This looks like a monitor's shelter. SG-3 must have come upon a training facility for Jaffa." Teal'c examined the hawk symbols emblazoned on the equipment. "Heru-ur," he reported.

"Sweet," O'Neill muttered as he stood up. "We're not exactly his favorite people."

"O'Neill, you are distinctly unloved by *all* Goa'uld," Mira said as she pushed her wet hair away from her face and back under her supposedly weather-proof hat.

Jack smiled. "That's the nicest thing anyone has ever said to me." The colonel wiped at imaginary tears. "I'm so touched."

Sandburg chuckled. "You're such a softy."

"Any chance they're only armed with Ihn'tar?" Carter asked.

"Ihn'tar?" Sandburg inquired.

"Training weapons which can only cause unconsciousness," Teal'c explained. "But this is not that kind of facility. It is for training special strike teams. These Jaffa will be more elite operatives."

"Joy," Daniel muttered.

"Then we need to move on." Mira stepped back out into the rain. She waved the rest of them out. Teal'c stayed closed to the Gelvan as she scrambled over the loose rocks which marked the edge of what was once a wide river. They traveled unerringly north for almost two miles, then they huddled down while three separate patrols went past them.

"The camp is across this open stretch. There are many guards. Our people are there." Mira paused and cocked her head. "They are being interrogated and tortured. We must hurry."

"That's a lot of open terrain," Carter responded.

"I don't see that we have much choice," O'Neill hissed. "We move."

Overhead, lightning was followed by a thunder crack so loud Teal'c was deafened. The sentinel's eyes watered.

Automatically, Sandburg began rubbing the woman's back and murmuring something. Within a minute, she was smiling. Teal'c had no idea how or why that worked. He would be a terrible guide.

Mira rose to her feet and began crossing the riverbed. There was a very narrow path of sure footing and the sentinel led them true. A flash of lightning provided Teal'c with a better view of their path. Sometimes, ignorance *is* bliss. The rock edges were sometimes razor-sharp and the rising water obscured both the safe and the deadly.

Due to the narrowness of the safe path, the team had been forced to spread out. Sandburg and Jackson were bringing up the rear. Teal'c turned from checking on his teammates to see Mira holding her head. "Run!" she screamed. "Run!" The sentinel dashed toward the shore.

The Jaffa followed the young woman as quickly as he could, even before he heard the roar of the flash flood. Carter and O'Neill barely made it out before the wall of water crashed down on them. Jackson and Sandburg were nowhere to be seen.

"They're on the other side of the water," Mira said as she rested her hand on Teal'c's arm. The Jaffa could not see the other side of the river. He had to take the sentinel's word that his friends were safe.

"Are they hurt?" Carter asked.

"A little banged up, but that is all." The sentinel paused. "They want us to go on and not waste the time on trying to get to them."

O'Neill looked toward where he thought the two scientists were. "Take care of yourselves, guys" the colonel said softly. "Let's get moving, kids."

SG-1 moved off.

"This is just great," Sandburg muttered as he wrapped the gash on Jackson's arm.

"I suppose you would rather have died in the river," Jackson countered. "We were closer to this side."

"I know that," Blair replied. "I mean we're still being rained on."

Daniel laughed. Here they were, separated from the team, surrounded by pissed off Jaffa, and being slowly drowned, and Blair had made him laugh.

"You're an original, Doctor Sandburg," Daniel said as he stuck his arm back into his jacket. Hopefully, the wound would dry now that it was bandaged and the tear in the jacket sleeve was mended with tape.

"That's what they tell me, Doctor Jackson." Blair looked around. "What do you think our next move should be?"

"SG-3 is probably in pretty sorry shape. They'll never make it back across that river without some serious help." He looked south. "The shelter had quite a few things inside it. We should go back and see what we can use to help them get across." Daniel re-shouldered his pack. He was still surprised he had managed to hang onto it as he and Blair had scrambled for their lives out of the path of the unforgiving water.

"What if they call him? I don't speak Goa'uld, and I *barely* can puzzle the written version out. Hieroglyphics were never my strong suit."

Daniel smiled. "You're in luck, Blair. I happen to speak *excellent* Goa'uld."

"You're a Jackson-of-all-trades," Sandburg quipped.

Daniel groaned. "That was horrible, Blair."

Sandburg grinned. "I know, but I thought you would miss your puns with Jack on the other side." The two went back toward the shelter. The going was quicker as the rain was finally slacking off--going from deluge to torrential levels. Growing up on the East Coast, Jackson hadn't been exposed to this kind of rain with any regularity.

"Do you miss Cascade?" Daniel asked quietly.

"The people, not the place," Blair answered as he pushed aside a branch. The anthropologist lowered himself suddenly, prompting Jackson to imitate him. Ahead of them, two Jaffa carried the dead Jaffa out of the shelter.

After placing him on the ground, one of the Jaffa lowered his head mike. Sandburg shot him squarely in the chest while Daniel finished off the second one. "Turn them face down," Jackson hissed. Sandburg complied immediately. The shots had blasted open the Jaffas' armor. If the Goa'uld they carried hadn't been killed immediately, the parasites might attempt to jump from their pouch and into Daniel or Blair.

Once face down in the mud, the larva would be unable to struggle from underneath the weight of their former incubators. Daniel pulled off one of the Jaffa's headsets and listened in. The conversations were plagued with static and cutouts. The electrical storm was playing havoc with their enemies' communications, but the storm was showing signs of easing.

The wonderful dryness and warmth of the shelter was just a siren song to make them linger in this potential trap. The two men needed to hurry. Sooner or later the patrols would figure out that coming to find the monitor was much simpler than continuing to call for him.

The scientists found three small powered flat boats. Not large enough to move both SG-1, SG-3, plus Sandburg and Mira, but it was a start. Blair and Daniel loaded them like sleds with extra rations, water, and medical supplies. The weapons they kept closer to their hands.

Plunging back into the cold and wet was made extra miserable by the short respite in the shelter. But now was not the time to linger on their misery. They had to avoid the patrols, cross the river, and catch up with SG-1--all of which currently sounded impossible.

Their return to the river left the men utterly despondent. The water was practically all rapids for as far as they could see both north and south. "Man, this sucks!" Sandburg complained as the two scientists came to a halt.

Daniel had to agree. "We'll have to continue north and hope for a narrower passage."

Sandburg shouldered the towing straps. "And every step north takes us further from our team and closer to a patrol."

Jackson nodded. "That about sums it up."

"At least sled dogs get a bone," Blair muttered.

"Arf, arf," Daniel teased. "Come on, King, we need to move."

Pulling their burdens with silent determination, the two men were almost upon the Jaffa before they knew it. The big man was urinating against a tree--bare butt shining eerily white in the occasional lightning flashes. Daniel raised his ZAT and fired twice. There was something extra cold about shooting someone in the back, even if you knew they would kill you. Even when you knew your people were counting on you.

Daniel stole a peek at Sandburg, but the smaller man was already moving the body out of the way. Blair returned with the Jaffa's headset, as the one Daniel had grabbed earlier had already shorted out in the constant rain. Jackson listened. The interference had cleared somewhat, but the patrols were still terribly disorganized. The flash flood, which had nearly drowned SG-1, also destroyed several other monitor's shelters. Warriors would suddenly find themselves surrounded by water, cut off from any support, and jumping at every sound.

"Daniel, how tall would you say that tree is?" Sandburg inquired.

Jackson looked toward where Blair was pointing. Sitting on a rapidly disintegrating mud bank was an enormous tree. It was one of the largest specimens of the local giant trees they had seen. Earlier, Mira had nearly fallen while scaling one of the trees to get a better view. Though their trunks were quite thick, the trees' limbs were somewhat brittle and hollow.

The tree was easily five stories tall and would make a great bridge for their team, but only if it fell across the water. "It's long enough, but we don't have much time to get it to drop into place."

"It's going to fall, it might as well fall to our advantage," Sandburg noted.

The two scientists debated over the weakest place in the bank to undercut the tree, but it was a short debate. While they were trying to figure out where they should shoot, the tree began to shudder as it lost more and more of its supporting soil.

Daniel shot the opposite bank, sending rock, mud, and water flying. With a crash which would surely bring every Jaffa within a mile, the tree fell across the water and nearly onto their heads. They had their bridge.

Most of the trunk was just above the rapids, but parts of it had water arcing over it. Also, debris was already starting to pile against it. Soon their bridge would be overwhelmed. It was time to move.

Pulling the flat boats across the tree was quite a task, especially as the rushing water kept trying to take the boats and the supplies away from them. Once across, Sandburg and Jackson hid the brightly colored flat boats in the thick brush

"Hopefully, we won't forget where we left them," Blair said as he pushed the last of the supplies into their hiding place.

"Are you kidding, Jack would never let us live it down." Daniel looked around for something to remind him of this place. "See that bush?" Daniel nodded toward a bush whose top looked vaguely like the "onion dome" of a Russian Orthodox church. "Little Nikita."

Blair smiled. "That's easy to remember." He turned south. "Do you remember how far Mira said the camp was from the shore?"

"I don't think she gave us a specific distance, just that it wasn't far," Jackson reported. Rolls of thunder obscured Blair's response. Sandburg took Daniel's hand, and the two men headed south to where, hopefully, their team waited.

Jack tried to escape his bonds again, but it was no use. He couldn't exactly blame any member of their team for their current position. Mira had led them straight to the camp with minimal wasted motion. SG-3 could be seen in the center of the compound secured to metal posts. Exposed to the cold and the rain, SG-3 didn't look like they had much time left before they succumbed to the weather and their injuries.

While SG-1 contemplated their next move, more of the Jaffa patrols made their way into the compound. They would have remained hidden if a lightning strike hadn't set fire to the tree in the center of their group. Though no one cried out, all Jaffa eyes had turned their way as the tree exploded. Surrounded, SG-1 surrendered.

Jack's only comfort as he hung from the post was that Jackson and Sandburg would report them missing before long. O'Neill looked over at Mira and cringed. The young woman had blanked out again. The first two times it had happened, Stan Powell had been able to bring her out of it, but now she was so still it looked as she wasn't even breathing.

Two Jaffas exchanged some words then laughed before going into the shelter closest to their semi-cage. "What did they say?" Jack asked Teal'c, even though a big part of him didn't want to know because he had his own translation.

"We are to be gifted to Heru-ur for implantation," Teal'c explained. "They don't know I'm a Jaffa."

O'Neill redoubled his efforts to remove his hands from the chains which kept him stretched and nearly hanging from the pole. Every member of his team, plus SG-3 was similarly restrained. It must have given the Jaffa quite a thrill to have people suffering like this.

"Colonel, Doctors Sandburg and Jackson are coming our way," Mira whispered. Sheets of water were pouring off the young woman's face as her pole was actually a corner of the guard shack where the water ran off the roof. Jack was startled as it had been a while since the young woman had spoken.

"I hope they run back for help," Makepeace grunted.

"I think they mean to rescue us," Mira said as she looked toward the colonel.

"Oh, Lord," Jack moaned. "I hope they will have the sense to see we would be better off if they went back for help from the gate."

"How many patrols do you think?" Daniel asked Blair as the two scientists lay flat on the ground in their reed cover.

"Ten, but what worries me is they seem to be about to break camp," Sandburg reported. They fell silent as two Jaffa walked past and chatted. "Could you hear what they were saying?"

Daniel scowled. "Yeah, it wasn't good. They plan on having *fun* with the team before giving them to Heru-ur."

"Damn," Sandburg hissed. Blair peeked over the edge of their slight depression. The water had already pooled around them and parts of his clothes seemed to be about to be sucked right off in the sloppy mud. "The guys are right in the open. If we open up, the soldiers will just kill them." Sandburg looked around and suddenly smiled. It was a very wicked smile.

"What?" Daniel inquired.

"Dog Parsley plant to the right," Sandburg responded quietly.

Jackson gaped. Dog Parsley plants were very dangerous. The leaves contained Coniine, which was similar to Curare. Close to it was a Thorn Apple tree. The thorns were sharp and strong and the juice of the Dog Parsley would be soaked right up. Daniel smiled and nodded.

"Darts," they said in unison.

Daniel was grateful for his heavy gloves, but even they were of little protection at times. The thorns seemed almost able to sense vulnerable flesh. Jackson hoped they were as tenacious when it was Jaffa skin.

Sandburg used the cup off his thermos to press the leaves. In an ideal situation, they would also boil the juice down to increase potency, but they didn't have the time nor could they start a fire in the rain.

Blair tended the soaking of the darts while Daniel converted some of the reeds into two blowpipes. The irony suddenly struck him, they were about to go after some of the most technically advanced people around with one of the most ancient of human weapons. Resisting the siren call of outlining a paper about ancient hunters, the archaeologist handed Blair his pipe.

Crawling on their bellies, the two men eased up on the their first targets. Daniel signaled that he would take the one on the right, and Blair nodded. The sound of their forcefully exhaled breath went unnoticed in the nearly ground shaking thunder. Blair's Jaffa dropped immediately, and Daniel's had only enough time to make an ineffectual swat at his neck before falling to the ground paralyzed. They pulled them into the bush.

Daniel had killed more Jaffa than he could count. He slept quite well with that knowledge, thank you. But this was different. They weren't charging. They weren't firing. They were unconscious. But they were Jaffa and soon the larval Goa'uld inside them would overcome the toxin. No one would escape. All of them would be implanted and their knowledge given to the Goa'uld. Jackson placed his ZAT against the Jaffa's chest and fired three quick bursts.

Sandburg seemed to hesitate, so Daniel disposed of the second Jaffa. He hand signaled for them to continue toward the compound and their helpless teammates.

Blair was going to puke right here in the mud. He couldn't believe Daniel had been able to kill that unconscious man... Jaffa. Damn! Even if his head was pointing out the fact that this man had been the enemy, would awake and kill them, and was part of the contingent which had beaten SG-3 and SG-1 and left them out in the rain like sacrifices. With all that, Blair had still been unable to pull the trigger. Even knowing what would happen if they didn't rid themselves of this Jaffa.

He was not meant for this kind of life. Blair was a teacher, not a soldier. But then again, this also could be said for Daniel. He was not a warrior born, but had come to this stage in life by being in the field and under fire.

Sandburg had heard through the base grapevine that Daniel's wife had been overtaken by a Goa'uld and died. Sandburg couldn't imagine losing someone he loved like that. How did you go on after something like that? Did you become cold and detached? Did you push it all aside? Did you buckle down and do the job so no one else would ever be in your position again?

Blair darted the next Jaffa and pulled him back into bush. As the thunder rumbled, Sandburg shot the warrior squarely in the chest. Once. Twice. Three times. He disappeared as if his mother had never bore him. As if he had never breathed. As if he had never existed. They moved on, darting the Jaffa to keep them quiet and using the thunder to cover the disposal of the bodies.

By the time they could see their comrades, there were only two Jaffa left they could see. "On three," Daniel instruct. "One, two, three." Sandburg and Jackson rose and fired rapidly. The two Jaffa fell first. Blair continued to fire the ZAT rifle, taking out buildings, vehicles, and pretty much everything *but* their friends.

Daniel rushed forward and fired his pistol into the chains which held Teal'c, trusting more in his regular sidearm rather than the new Gelvan weapon. He tossed his friend a ZAT. "Sorry we took so long, guys, but we took the scenic route."

Jack passed up the opportunity to use one of his famous quips. After he was released from his bonds, O'Neill concentrated on getting Makepeace, Powell, and Hubbard to their feet and moving. "Which way did you come?" the colonel asked.

"We have a bridge," Jackson began.

"But not for long if we don't hurry," Sandburg finished. The anthropologist waved toward the north. "It's a tree, and the river could take it at any minute."

Jack was so proud of the Space Monkey, he had no words. Makepeace would probably die of shame when the base found out they had been rescued by two scientists, but O'Neill would have taken help from the Tooth Fairy. Carter and Hu grabbed up their gear from the still smoldering ruins of the guard shack and redistributed them. The teams moved out as quickly as they could.

Lieutenant Colonel Donald Makepeace was as tough a man as was made. He had a quiet strength which he never boasted of, it was just there. Like Makepeace, you knew it was there, and you counted on it. The fact that Donald had tears rolling unchecked down his face told Jack they had little time before the man simply passed out from the pain.

O'Neill was still too close to his own experience with torture to be able to view it with anything coming close to detachment. Those bastards had beaten and shocked SG-3 for hours before SG-1 had arrived. Jack would have to be firm and make sure SG-3 got counseling.

His own brush-off of what he considered "useless psycho-babble" had come back and bitten him hard in the butt--prescription painkillers mixed with alcohol. Charles Kowalski had saved him by literally sitting on him and not leaving Jack's side until O'Neill got help. It was another debt he owed his badly missed friend.

"You might need to leave me," Makepeace grunted.

Jack rolled his eyes. "What, and miss the opportunity to hear you tell *everyone* how we were rescued by the anthropologist and archaeologist? There's no way I'm going to let you cheat me out of that. I won't rest until it's a base legend."

O'Neill wondered how far he could carry the larger man. Makepeace was losing more and more of his strength as they struggled through the dense, rain-washed foliage. Just as Donald began to slide to the forest floor, Sandburg pulled a strange, yellow device from underneath the bushes. Teal'c helped O'Neill lay Makepeace out of the platform. Teal'c swirled his fingers around a symbol on the end and the platform rose from the ground.

"It floats!?!" Blair shouted incredulously. "We dragged those damn things all the way."

"And they were heavy," Daniel added.

Jack nearly laughed out loud at the look on the two younger men's faces. Later, he would tease them. Right now, he only had praise for the two men. They had brought medical supplies, blankets, food, and fresh water--all things they desperately needed. With their most injured people on floating platforms, the SG teams were able to almost double their speed.

"Someone is crossing the river," Mira reported.

"They're using our bridge," Daniel suggested.

Teal'c traded weapons with Sandburg and took point. It would take a delicate touch to remove the Jaffa from the makeshift bridge without blowing it up.

Teal'c fired once, then waved the teams forward. Other than a slight scorch mark at about the two-thirds point, there was no sign of the Jaffa who had been crossing the bridge. O'Neill crossed with Makepeace as quickly as he could.

They were running out of time. Even without Sentinel senses, Jack knew Makepeace was dying. The beating, the electric shocks, and exposure had combined to shut the man's systems down. Donald's breath was rattling in his chest and slowing down.

Behind them staff weapon fire began to light up the forest all around them. Jack made the decision to keep going and leave their defense to Teal'c, Blair, Carter, and Daniel. Mira moved ahead and swept away the last of the Jaffa guards who were setting up a weapon near the Stargate.

These Jaffa may have been the elite, but they had trained to fight rational, professional troops. There was nothing like emotional, desperate people to muck up a battlefield.

Jack waited while Sandburg activated the gate. It was only after he had rushed through with Makepeace that the colonel wondered if Blair had even been trained to dial the gate.

At the bottom of the ramp, an anxious General Hammond waited. They had made it home. "Welcome back, SG-1, SG-3."

Medical teams, who never understood protocol when there were injuries, swarmed around the general and gathered the injured. Jack was surprised to see that he was considered to be among the injured. Airman Tate left him no room to argue as he was carted off to the infirmary.

Blair wanted to find a corner and fall down. He ached in places he had never been fully cognizant of owning before. He took a seat in the shower and attempted to wash some of the grime, mud, and sweat off himself. As the adrenaline wore off, Sandburg thought about the last few hours of his life. He had saved SG-1 and SG-3. Everyone came home. The rest was for his journals, the counselor, and quiet times with Janet. At least he could always talk to her about his missions.

"Blair, are you okay?" Jack asked as he stepped into the communal shower.

Sandburg looked up at O'Neill. "I thought you were in the infirmary."

Jack grinned. "I escaped." He peeled out of his clothes and stepped into the shower. "No mere hospital can hold Jack O'Neill." The colonel's attempt at levity fell flat. Blair's heart just wasn't in it.

Daniel crept in, struggled out of his clothes, turned on the water and just stood under the pounding spray. "God," he muttered, "I never want to do that again."

Blair stood up and instantly regretted it. He was covered in scratches, bruises, and cuts. His short time sitting had allowed his muscles to stiffen up. "I guess I need to make to a side trip to the infirmary myself. I just wanted for the serious cases to be seen to first." Sandburg grabbed a towel and wrapped it around his waist.

"Blair," O'Neill called, "you did good. We wouldn't have made it back without you and Daniel." He paused. "I hope that makes it better."

"It does... somewhat," Blair admitted. Actually, it was only a slight easing of his personal funk right now.

"Blair, if you think this is the first step on your road to hell, you're wrong," O'Neill said firmly. "The road to hell begins when you don't feel any kind of regret at all." Jack drew in a deep breath and released it. "Trust me, I know men and women who could have gone out there and never felt so much as a twinge. Being human is not something to be ashamed of, kid."

Sandburg paused in his flight. If anyone knew about this, it had to be Jack. Blair could take this man at his word. "Thanks, Jack."

"That was well said, Jack," Daniel said admiringly.

O'Neill smiled. "I have my moments."

Blair dressed and headed to the infirmary. Makepeace must have been feeling better because he was arguing with Janet.

"Doctor, I just want to check on my men," Donald grumbled.

Fraser smiled icily. She had experience dealing with difficult men. "Colonel, imagine me smiling and agreeing to that. If you can, you have a great imagination. Lie back and I won't have to embarrass you by tying you down on the bed."

"You better listen to her," Blair teased. "I can tell you for a fact that her knots are *real* hard to get out of without help." Sandburg gave Donald his most innocent smile, while Janet chuckled wickedly.

Makepeace started to laugh and continued to laugh until he clutched his side in pain. "That was a good one," he choked.

"Yeah. Now lie down and get better." Sandburg helped the larger man get comfortable on the narrow bed.

Makepeace smiled. "I will. I don't want to throw away your superior effort." The colonel suddenly clutched Blair's arm. "I want to personally thank you for coming after us, Sandburg. I've never seen anything like it. You brought my men home."

"You mean not bad for a scientist, right?" Blair asked.

"No, I mean you did good, Blair. It's just what we expect from members of the SGC," Makepeace said firmly.

-- The End --

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