General George Hammond

"Sir."

"Sergeant. Whenever you're ready."

Carefully I watch the man at work, meticulous, professional. Hiding the thoughts of what might be or could be happening on the other side of that alien ring below us. Were they killed, captured or just unable to answer because something broke? I need to have...

"Yes Sir, entering PBX 123 into the dialing computer now."

...positive thoughts, communication will be established this time. Everyone will be just fine, just one of those stupid glitches that seems to happen around the man. Damn, I hope something has changed. Twelve hours, twelve long hours, anything could have happened in that time. After I find out why they didn't answer, maybe I can have Teal'c join the mission. That would ease my mind. But...

THUNK "Chevron one encoded."

...then if they don't answer my only plan is to contact our allies, ask... beg one of them to go there. Find my people and bring them home. That would end O'Neill's, and my, plans for the Mirror Site. Even worse, it would ruin Jack's plans for that boy, a boy...

THUNK "Chevron two encoded."

...he's taken a real shine to. Too bad about what happened to Lt. Van Sickle, he and I both have tried to convince Jack that what happened wasn't his fault. That stubborn ass takes it personally, too personally. He didn't hold the lieutenant down and force...

THUNK "Chevron three encoded."

'General...?'

Ripped from my thoughts, my eyes focus on an airman holding a phone aloft as in offering. What could possible happen now? No, I don't want to know. Probably a flood in the locker room. Again! I'm not a plumber... I'm a god damned General! Yeah, of a whole base, who else would they call? O'Neill has it so easy.

THUNK "Chevron four encoded."

Hesitating I glance at the spinning gate, I'd rather stay here. It takes mere seconds to reach the offered wrench in my day. Please, let this be quick.

"Hammond..."

THUNK "Chevron five encoded."

My irritation doesn't come across in the word, I've had years to learn how not to put my feelings into the words. Calm and competent, that's what's needed at all times. It's a damn 'monkey see monkey do' world when you're in command of a base.

"Repeat that..."

THUNK "Chevron six encoded."

What I'm hearing over the phone and here in the Control Room is enough to blow out a blood vessel. The deafening sound of the Gate operating and that irritating countdown is more than I can stand. However, the incident I'm hearing about from the Mountain's security entrance drowns out the din. ' Just what the Hell is happening?'

THUNK "Chevron seven encoded, and locked."

"Airman, report to your supervisor. Request a refresher on security protocol. Now!" Angrily and loudly I bang the handset into its cradle, disappointed when the Gate connecting drowns out the expected satisfying crash.

KAWOOOSH!

Dragging in a long-suffering breath I pivot, starting towards Sergeant Davis. Striding across the room I feel no remorse in my words to the sergeant I'd just spoken to. He didn't do his job, making mine more difficult and I really needed to leave and delve into this new problem. However, I also had to know about the situation on PBX 123. The sergeant's hands are moving across his keyboard swiftly, his whole focus on contacting our people. A hand flashes to his earpiece, that's a good sign. My steps falter when he twists round to find me, his face tells me what I need to know, but conventions demand I ask anyway.

'Sergeant?"

"Sir, I'm sorry. No change," his face is all too readable. Walter is an excellent technical master sergeant, but he should never play poker. Even with O'Neill, who is shameless in losing to him. "Shall I change the mission status? Sir?"

"No Sergeant, no change in status. We'll give them another twelve hours. Thank you." My hand is on his shoulder, reassuring him as well as me.

"Yes Sir."

Walter's eyes are suspiciously shiny in the dim lighting that's normal along the control stations, before dropping my hand I squeeze his shoulder in thanks. If I weren't in charge, my eyes would look the same as his.

This mess is unresolved, now I need to discover the extent of the new one.

***

"Doctor?"

Her cut off laugh tells me the man she is treating is not seriously injured as she turns from her examination of Dr. Jackson to face me.

Thank God.

Details on this whole mess are sketchy at best. All I know is that Teal'c and he returned with injured prisoners and Jackson had been roughed up.

This is unacceptable.

No more acceptable then the sergeant at the gate delaying contacting me when they all arrived at the gate. I'm of two minds as to whether they should have been held there or held elsewhere, but held they should have been until I was notified. That decision was mine. It would have been entirely different if O'Neill had been with them, he's Second in Command. He's here to do the dirty work of this command. This idea that any one member of SG-1 can be viewed as O'Neill's proxy has got to end. It's not a case of trust; it's a case of procedure. Even if it were just the trust issue, I couldn't be sure if their actions were on Jack's behalf or the SGC's. Jack would have a bloody fit if the SGC came last when he and it were the only choices.

Right now SG-1 could be operating in 'protect Jack mode.' Sigh.

I've only read half of the reports on this 'Van Sickle' incident. Jackson's is not one of them, nor Teal'c's. Did I even have Teal'c's? However, from what I gather, this goes back to O'Neill and an offer by Daniel Jackson to find out what happened to the boy.

"Dr Jackson."

Doctor Frazier's face closes up once she gets a good look at my face, I nod and hold a hand up, she's to stay during this one. She doesn't look happy. Join the group. Teal'c was the one who 'asked' the sergeant at the gate to delay informing me of their arrival. He isn't here; I don't see any SFs anywhere, no obvious prisoners, only two curtained beds near the entrance. Accident cases?

"Looks like you'll live," letting my disgust leak into my words I pin Jackson with a look.

"Err... yes, I'm fine."

"Good, maybe you can tell me what in Sam Hill is going on."

He has the decency to looked embarrassed, he's avoided contacting me after I requested it. Even if he's not military he should by now understand that a request from me is an order. Civilian or not.

"Well, it's a personal matter General Hammond."

"Dr Jackson, when anything impacts this command there's no such thing."

"I'm... sorry. I have to disagree." Pushing his glasses up his nose he furrows his brow before crossing his arms over his chest and desperately looked defiant while propped up in that hospital bed. But I know the words that will crumble his resistance.

"Son, you are about to find yourself in Holding. I've lost contact with the group on PBX 123 and it looks as if you might have answers pertaining to that. Answers I will have or you will be staring at an empty room. Do I make myself clear?"

"What...? You've lost contact. When?" My hand restrains him from moving from his position as he attempts to struggle upright.

"Not so fast Dr Jackson, you first," he looked truly shocked and... scared. The struggle with his conscience is visible, waves of emotion surge across his face, making me feel like a heel at pushing him so hard. But damn it, there could be lives at stake and this has been going on behind my back way too long.

Major Carter revealed that this was a promise of help to the Colonel and Daniel had gone about it in such as way as to endanger the friendship between them. That was why she became involved; to insure that nothing untoward happened to that friendship. Commendable. Foolish, but commendable.

The words tumble from him, reluctantly at first, each admission appearing to cause him pain, but he reveals the whole story. It truly was a personal matter in the beginning, friends helping friends. It was just that the truths that were found were bigger than what they could handle and from what he has told me, he doesn't know anything about the other group involved.

"Dr Jackson did you know that Dr Mackenzie was also investigating this problem?"

"Ah... no, not actually. Not until Teal'c and I followed Captain Cochran to that old grocery store. I'm not sure, but I think they were working together. I was just a little dazed at the time, so I'm not certain."

"And Teal'c?"

"That's strange, he came to me and asked to help. He seemed to know a lot about what was happening and I told him I didn't think Captain Cochran was giving me the whole story. So he... ah, we decided to follow him, putting a tracer on his SUV, we all wound up at that store and things... just happened."

Teal'c knowing more than Dr. Jackson didn't surprise me. Little escaped him and he seemed to take O'Neill's personal security as a sacred trust, but always working in the background. Almost as if he didn't want Jack to know what he was doing.

"Where is Teal'c now?"

"He said something about securing the truth and left. General, please, is Jack alright?"

"Twelve hours ago they missed a scheduled check in and I've just come from our second attempt to reestablish communication with them. The Stargate connects but we cannot raise the original or second MALP. No signals at all. Sorry, son, I just don't know if he alright or not."

"Oh God."

SG-1's archeologist looked devastated.

"Dr Jackson, if I had known about this sooner I could have corrected a grave error I myself made, one that left Colonel O'Neill in the dark about Lt. Van Sickle. The reason why the NID is pursuing the boy, a reason I kept from him, in the name of friendship." His ignorance of what I'm talking about shows clearly on his face, it's a good thing the man is so honest. There is no way he could lie with such an expressive face. Breathing deeply I continue with my own guilty admission, "This whole mess has happened because we all just wanted to help someone. We need to step back and reevaluate where duty and friendship begins and ends. The work we do here... well, there may be no line between the two. SG-1 is an example of one needing the other. I for one resolve that feelings be damned, no evading of the facts, ever again."

"I'm sorry, I... I don't know what to say."

"Son, your heart was in the right place. Just think about what has happened and what might still happen. As for the future you may depend that there will be a debrief for this." Since I hadn't noticed Cochran and Mackenzie I needed to ask. "Where are the last two members of this debacle?"

Both doctors pointed at the curtained beds I had dismissed. Well, no longer, I stalked down the row of beds bent on kicking more butt.

"Gentlemen you're next on my speaking tour," my hand pushed the first curtain aside. The bed was rumpled, but empty. The next was the same. Turning back to Fraiser and Jackson with a questioning look I received shrugs as my answer.

"Sir, they must have slipped out during our conversation," offered Doctor Frazier. 'Our' conversation indeed, she was lucky she had done the right thing and fessed up at the first hint of trouble."

"No matter, I'll catch up to them soon enough. First I'll find Teal'c, he I have a notion of where to look for."

This whole mess was beyond belief, a SG-1 foul up of major proportions, only on this side of the Gate. How novel.

Dr Jackson's comment about Teal'c 'securing the truth' gave me a bad feeling, my pace quickened.

Captain Isiah Cochran

"Hey. Hey! Not so much."

"But, it has such a unique favor, what is it called again?"

"Ouzo, and it has a kick, so watch it will ya!" Jeez, he'll drain the bottle at this rate. "Can ya hold your liquor?" Snatching the bottle from him I tipped it back and downed a long swallow. Bet alcohol doesn't affect 'colonel's', only lowly captains. Just why did I stop that goon from plugging him? Coming to my office wasn't that good of an idea I'm beginning to think, but I wasn't gonna be a stationary target in that bed either.

When General Hammond arrived in the Infirmary I knew it was time to make a hasty exit. Why did I think dragging the Bird Colonel with me was a good idea? I don't know? All he seems to be doing is drinking my stock of Christmas gifts. Sure, yeah, I created the problem, I felt the need for a snort, and like the well-brought-up boy my mom remembers, I offered him one too. So I only have myself to blame here.

"I've never had a problem before? Why do you ask?"

Leaning over me, he actually smirks and lowers himself to a knee and slips an arm around my shoulders. Yes, smirks. Then he jerks the bottle from my hand as I try to keep it away from him, and drains it. If my eyes don't fall on the floor and roll away under this kinda shock, they never will. Didn't think the man could smile, let alone smirk! And just why is he so damned close?

God! I feel like I'm corrupting a minor here, providing drink and bad habits. He's older than I am by more than ten years, I'm sure. There the 'older' part ends; he has the worldly experience of a five year old. I remember being shown the ropes by my older brothers and sisters, being the youngest; I probably had more than my fair share of corruption from the worldly wise.

"I just wanna to be certain you can still stand when you're done. What's the hardest stuff you've had? And wine doesn't count; so let's not hear about that at all. 'kay?" Damn, wine is nothing more than simmered down kool-aid, kid's stuff.

Just why am I feeling so responsible for the schmuck? He's a holier than thou 'colonel to my captain,' totally not above pointing out the difference in rank at every opportunity. He has absolutely no clue of what he's doing. It's a wonder it wasn't killed back there in that grocery store. Yeah, I know, I had a lot to do with preventing that, and I'm still not sure why I did that, I coulda been hurt or worse, killed myself.

"But wine is so civilized, surely you indulge in wine, I have detected traces of intelligence in some of your actions."

He's practically draping himself on me while he's insulting me, and I kinda shove him away, nodding my head like I'm listening or something. If I'd said no, I just know he'd start in on the history of wine. The long version. Maybe then he'll try to crawl up onto my lap. Eww! And what the Hell does me mean 'detected,' like you automatically like wine if you have a brain. I'm damned sure Colonel O'Neill doesn't drink wine. Good beer and single malt all the way!

"The most potent liquor I've drank in the past has been whiskey. Cheap rotgut whiskey, on a dare in college. Although, I prefer a better pedigreed scotch to that." To stop that train of thought I lift a hand and do a hurry up, move it along whirl. "Ah, the dare, I drank a whole fifth in thirty minutes and then did a skateboard skill course. Completed it with a perfect score and they thought I'd never used a board before. Cretins!"

"Hey!" He suddenly pushed me aside and began to rummage in my desk. "Just what do you 'ink ya d'ing?"

Shit, was that me? I didn't drink that much! MacKenzie should be under the table by now if I'm slurring my words. Maybe it has to do with him being the only kid of single uncaring parent? And a parent he doesn't seem to be fond of at all. I bet all of his strange ways can be traced back to his mom. From the habits he has, she's probably a socialite that got knocked up and wound up marrying the guy, the wrong guy. Or maybe it was the right guy and MacKenzie wound up with the wrong parent. Gee, that makes me kinda sad. I have lots of family and we're all real close. How would that feel, living with someone who thought of you as a burden? Bummer.

"Looking for more, you have exotic tastes and I like exotic tastes. Bingo!"

Well, he's said that word before. Probably goes to Bingo with his mother every Friday night and loses. Crap, not the anisette, I got that for my sister's birthday, and that brand is really hard to find. Trying to rescue the bottle, the next thing I know I'm chasing him around the desk like he were a sexy secretary and me playing the lecherous exec, not that I would do that, at least not without her asking me to. Love role-playing. That gets consenting adults excited in the funniest ways. Having stopped to consider my wayward thoughts, the Bird Colonel is suddenly drawn to me, like a moth to a flame. He slides up behind me and presses himself against me, I shuffle away and he snugs up to me again, breaking my wonderful daydream to shards with the shock of just what the Hell he is doing. He coos into my ear.

"Why are you grinning like that? Here, have some. It tastes like licorice." He shoves the bottle at me with a wide grin on his mug. Meanwhile, his arm has my waist in a grip that I can't wiggle our of. And, Damn it, yes, a grin. It's nice to know that he's a happy lush. He's just too damned 'friendly.'

"You do know that we are probably in hot water with General Hammond now. Don't you?" And by God, his grin just got bigger as he moved closed, sliding bodily across my back and round my side to stand face to face with me. Or is that chest-to-chest, I look up into his eyes.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure of that. And there is the proof," he pointed a finger towards the door behind me and he grinned even wider. A big white blinding fence of teeth.

Staggering around in place, tripping over my own feet, MacKenzie was suddenly there holding me up in such a way that for all the world it appeared we were indulging in an intimate embrace. Damn I am drunk! From my position in the Bird Colonel's arms, his lips gusting breath in my ear, I saw what he wanted me to see. Two SFs. Shit! And they didn't look happy at all. Hell, I wasn't happy.

"Ladies. We have the prefect honeymoon suite just for you."

Teal'c

The hireling is just that, he reveals nothing of value.

This lack of value had no effect on me; he was, after all, just a hireling. His mistake was in describing an encounter with young Lt.VanSickle, so involved did he become in the telling that he further erred by showing his utter delight in what he had done. That did have an effect on me, and as if of their own accord, my fingers sank into his vulnerable neck before his amusement at tormenting a mere boy could be fully transported through it. My pleasure in what I was doing was extremely gratifying. The hireling slowly turned blue, eyes bulged, and then he went limp. Just as the life was beginning to fade from the windows of his vile soul I remembered the anguish my Warrior Brother has shown when forced to kill, an anguish which grew greater when he saw a member of SG-1 kill, so great is his pain that he cannot entirely hide it.

So swiftly did I release my death hold, that man and chair both were flung to the floor. My heart pounded in my chest and my primta rolled sickeningly. My Brother's seldom seen horror hung before me. I have forsaken a god to follow him, how could I ignore O'Neill's ways so blatantly. He is the new way, the golden path, the future of my people. This I am careful to never reveal to him, he would not tolerate my elevation of him.

'Teal'c, I'm just a man.'

A man like no other, the spearhead of a world's step into the universe, its shield against aggressors and kindler of peace between his world and the truly great races residing beyond the Stargate.

'Just a man -- fallible.'

Only a truly great man admits to fallibility. Would I be arrogant to admit this weakness that is not a weakness? The new ways are difficult to follow, more so when my guide is missing. He walks unknowingly in danger on another world, there to nurture one who could step into the breach when he finally falls. This fall I intend to delay as long as possible, far beyond that point when either Lt.VanSickle or another is confirmed as his successor. My fondest hope is that Rya'c will dedicate his life to the protection of the successor and in time earn his trust and friendship, both of which can be bread to a starving man. And my people are a race of staving men.

O'Neill has conjured victory from the ashes of disaster. As he is my guide I shall emulate him, this mistake will be the beginning of success. My thoughts, lengthy as centuries, were in fact mere seconds, no one has moved until now. And that movement is Mr. A. Whole, who stirs and blinks on the floor, now safe from death at my hands. Only he would not know this.

'Ya think.'

My Brother's words come with a flash of that expression that DanielJackson calls a 'smart ass smirk.' MajorCarter calls it by another name, 'cat that got the canary.' I prefer to call it 'victory from defeat.'

Reaching down I grasp the chair and fling it unerringly at the large mirror centered in the wall to my right, using just enough force to bounce it off the fragile glass, not breaking it. O'Neill would be proud and exclaim something like, 'shock value.' I wish to gain the attention of the false doctor who I know is imprisoned behind that mirror, he should not miss a moment of my time with his hireling.

The man on the floor watched my performance with rapidly widening eyes, scrabbling back from me in abject terror. Good. For I intend to 'scare the tar' out of him and enjoy every minute of it. I do not believe that O'Neill would disapprove of terrorizing the terrorizers.

Never breaking eye contact with the frightened man I follow his path to the wall, he startles when his back strikes it. Insuring the direction of his next escape I step to his side, between him and the mirror. His reaction is swift, using feet and hands he scoots away from me along the wall. Intending to trap him in the corner I step slightly away from the wall and begin to decrease the distance between us. His eyes begin to oscillate between me and the two SFs guarding the door. His silent plea for help I know will go unanswered, I chose the guards myself and explained my plan of action. A plan I had, at the time, no intention of following, then I intended to kill them both and took steps to stifle any timely interference.

Now, perhaps I shall visit them in the place of their imprisonment and wish them long life.

Mr. Whole now has no escape; he pushes up the wall and presses himself back into the corner, making himself as small of a target as possible. Stepping up to him, I smile and lean closer, the better for him to hear me.

"Scream."

No words escape his rapidly working mouth. Placing a hand to either side of him, bracing myself against the two walls I breathe my request in different words.

"If you wise to live convince me of your fear."

Slowly I lean back to bring my hands to his neck, only to brush them down his chest. But he is already screaming as if I were gutting him. From the mirror I know that it appears that I am doing something to him, his screams confirm this.

His eyes tell me he is calming, nothing has happened to him. He has only heard requests. This I cannot allow. Reaching down I tug at his belt, his scream goes up, sounding nearly like a woman's. Unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants I reach in and seize him.

"I am not convinced."

Gently I pull upward. He explodes into truly frightening shrieks and attempts to burrow backwards into the wall, away from me, arms and legs spread as wide as possible. His fingers leave bloody trails across the wall they scrabble at. His eyes remain locked to mine, each time they flick down I tug upward and squeeze gently. Leaning in to him I press him into the corner, holding him upright, pinning him in his panicked frenzy. No true harm is coming to him, but I have convinced him otherwise.

His performance is masterful. It is time to end it.

Slowly I begin to withdraw my hand from his pants, at the slackening of his frenzy I reverse and grab hold again, he is a fast learner. Smiling my approval I quickly explain my next request, my lips touching his ear, his screams and struggles never slackening

"Tell me with your eyes that you understand the term 'play dead.' "

His answer is emphatic affirmative, pleasing me; maybe I will only visit him once a year rather than every month. Now he will have to prove his understanding to me.

"Play dead."

His scream is cut off in mid breath and he slithers to the floor, forcing me to hold onto him and break his fall. His portrayal of death is excellent, even producing a spreading puddle of urine and smell of loosened bowels convince me.

A truly masterful performance.

General George Hammond

Only O'Neill's absolute trust of this man holds me back, prevents me from sending in the SFs and putting a stop to the cold blooded torture happening before my very eyes. Never have I seen Teal'c so... involved before. It is difficult to equate the gentle giant I know with the man in that room right now.

Yes, I know he was First Prime of Apophis, that he killed hundreds with his bare hands. Gave orders to kill yet thousands more. Watched as whole populations were exterminated. I know this in my mind, intellectually. I've never witnessed it.

Violence and death cannot be explained through words or even pictures. It must be experienced in person, felt, smelled, heard, tasted. Only then can it be understood. That is only the first step; true understanding can only occur after being its victim. O'Neill is an expert, on both sides of violence. While in Black Ops he dished it out and then reaped it a thousand fold in Iraq.

Teal'c has never known the victim's side of violence that Jack lived through, the part that haunts him still. The Jaffa has never truly been the victim. Oh, he's had a taste here and there, but nothing that can hold a candle to Jack's experiences.

The man shackled to the chair has watched the same event as I have; he squirms and twists at his bonds. He had not spoken to me when I entered the room, but as the scene played out his eyes slide to me more and more. Suddenly he was begging for my help. I just shook my head and refused to speak. The two SFs at the door never moved, never spoke, statues. Good men.

Jack O'Neill is a good man, I trust him. That trust is what allowed this to happen. That trust may have died in that room at Teal'c's hands.

Slowly it sinks in. It is done. Teal'c has finished, gone too far. A man has died. And I did nothing.

My eyes watch O'Neill's friend turn and leave, his face as serene as ever. He will come here and repeat his actions.

Can I stand by and still do nothing?

Light and sound pour through the door, filling the darkness. All too soon it is as if it never was. Darkness again reigns to the tattoo of steps.

Teal'c strides across the room, ignoring the two guards and me. He swiftly and violently jerks the prisoner and chair to face him; the horror beyond the glass is now behind his newest victim. I'm puzzled by this, surely forcing the man to face 'that' while being questioned would produce answers faster. What was the purpose of killing the other man if not to show this one his coming fate?

My answers come in the form of Dr Fraiser and a team of medics entering the room behind the glass. Why would a dead man need a doctor? And from the actions of my CMO the man in that room is not dead. This is confirmed when the good doctor looks right into the mirror and her hand forms an okay sign. I've never been slow on the uptake, but it's a shock to realize the whole killing was a sham. It was just too real and I've seen real. Teal'c did what he did to fool Dr Means into believing that we didn't care if he lived or died, very deliberately allowed him to watch him 'kill' his cohort. Only Dr Means and I had no idea that it was a fake.

Teal'c didn't even bat an eyelash at Fraiser's signal; nothing betrayed that he had even seen it.

All I can see is Dr Means' back. With a shiver I see just how close I came to endangering Teal'c's plans by even being here. I had no idea what was happening and he couldn't stop to explain. He had to trust me. God, he put a lot of trust in me to not interfere, a trust born of Jack's own faith in me. And here I stood losing that trust because my eyes told me something I knew couldn't be true. Maybe it is time for me to retire?

"You will tell me what I wish to know before you die."

Teal'c words startle me from my shameful thoughts His voice is angry and Teal'c is never angry. But what I had just seen in that other room I had never seen either. Jack is a master at portraying himself as other than he is. Maybe Teal'c shares this talent? I decide to wait and see. To trust.

"Your answers will decide how much pain you will suffer. Your pain would please me greatly."

He gently cups the man's chin, bringing up his head and smiles gently at him before loosening his grip and caressing the man's face, shockingly leaving streaks of thick red across unmarred skin. Slowly he rotates that hand before his helpless captive, to allow the man to admire the blood smeared along those long powerful fingers.

"Beautiful is it not?"

Gulping my eyes flick to 'that' room. No blood, at least not that much, only the smeared marks on the wall. Where...?

"Only there is not enough, I desire more of this decoration."

Means jerks at the cuffs on his wrists and ankles jarring the chair, moving it slightly as Teal'c wipes the blood off the back of his hand across the man's bare throat... Suddenly that hand grasps at his shirt and jerks, buttons bounce off unseen surfaces, Means is immobile. Dripping sounds draw my attention to the liquid pooling beneath the man's chair.

"Tell me all."

Like a bursting dam the words tumble from Dr Means' mouth, hurried and incoherent.

"Stop."

The man actually stops breathing in his haste to please his tormentor.

"Slowly, clearly, and all that you know. Resume."

Nodding, he does. Each word clear, each sentence easy to understand. He paints a picture of what he knows. Teal'c straightens, crosses those powerful arms over his massive chest and smiles benignly down on his entertainment. Clearly pleased.

Teal'c has succeeded, I may not approve one bit of his methods, but they do work. I hope that I can salvage enough to entice justice through official channels and to do that I need to have this 'confession' recorded. Retribution may be enough on Chulac, but due process is demanded here. Let's hope that I can keep them focused on the villain's deeds and not methods employed here.

Feeling the need to act I'm totally unable to be still and to my surprise I draw Teal'c's into eye contact, just long enough for him to draw my attention to something above and behind me. Slowly, afraid to break the rhythm of the confession before me, I look. It's the security camera, and it's running.

Teal'c knew, goddamn it! He knew enough to plan this charade, but couldn't take the time to tell me!

O'Neill and I will have a very long talk when he returns.

Lt. Eric Van Sickle

No trace of a body could be found when I left the search after three hours, but the water could have carried it down onto the plains. We would never find him there. It wasn't possible and I refused to believe that. Reviewing the aerial digital recordings of the immediate area on one of the laptops I was looking for chances. The UAV had followed the creek upstream at one point, why no one had checked for this I don't know.

Thinking back I remember the Colonel and I had sat through the footage, but neither of us noticed that the creek canyon had narrowed so dramatically. We probably didn't notice it still existed. Zooming in I could see a faint dark line of what must be a slot canyon, a very dangerous type of canyon that took the lives of many hikers on Earth, both experienced and inexperienced.

I didn't care for walking up the canyon; I was more interested in walking the top of the canyon wall, staying out of the danger zone. The lip of the sinuous dark line appeared to be even and clear of vegetation, cutting through a gentle undulation of valleys and rises. Those valleys would be our greatest test, they appeared to be choked with vegetation, but the greater stretches of higher ground had minimal plant cover. It was the type of rock the water had cut through, butter to the rushing water, but iron to trees and bushes. A FRED would be able to traverse the canyon top easily.

As for who went with the FRED, that was the problem. I would go. I had to go. But I needed to leave someone in charge, someone I could trust. It had to be Major Drake even if she was, someone I couldn't trust to make a grab for command. It had to be her because she had the most experience at command, and she needed to stay and solve our flooding problem. All I can hope for is that her natural zeal for following up a puzzle in her area of expertise would distract her from her overdeveloped sense of command structure.

But if the unthinkable happened, and I returned with O'Neill alive, she could have command.

Captain Ellis and Everett would go with me, they were both mobile and had skills that would come in handle.

We couldn't leave soon enough for me.

***

Her every movement screams disrespect. No salute. No attempt to stand at a quick nano-second of attention. Things that I find don't really matter to me. But her dismissal, that... that I do care about. Even if she refuses to recognize my position as head of this team, she should at least pay lip service to my position for the good of the team.

Each of us has to do our best to get along, to cooperate, to achieve our common goal. Surely, by now, she knows that I'm not some kind of little jumped up dilettante eager to order people around for the pump it gives my ego. I've made myself approachable, always bowing to the experts just asserting my power when no popular consensus occurs. I've guided, rather than commanded. I've bent over backwards to accommodate everyone. Maybe I've only succeeded in showing myself to be a soft touch.

God! This is nothing like I'd imagined. All the good grades and all the words I've read don't provide the answers to the questions I have before me. Now is when having Colonel O'Neill here would really help. He is so good at laying out the pros and cons of conflicts like this. Although he is very capable of just ignoring everyone sensitivities and ordering something done in no uncertain terms. He's so strong and confident in his command.

I'm not really certain that I'll ever be that secure in my command abilities.

Secure or not I am now going to have to convince this woman that I know what I'm doing. I must command her obedience for the good of us all.

"Captain Drake, I am going to leave you in charge here. But, your main responsibility will be to find a way to drain the Gate Canyon."

"Yes."

Yes, no 'sir' to go with it. It's a bad sign; Marines just don't forget such etiquette. However, I'm prepared to overlook her deliberately bad manners, her problems with my being in charge is meaningless. Only the survival of the team has meaning. And right now, I have a man missing.

I feel the desperation his image provokes and shove it away; I can't afford feelings right now.

"This whole expedition is stranded here, lives may depend on your success."

"I understand."

"I hope you do, we need you to do what you are trained for. And I need to do what I've been trained for. Do you really understand?"

Watching her face intently, a flicker of something crosses it. I hope what I have just said will spark the right kind of thoughts in this brilliant engineer. She's a Major because of her engineering skills, not her command skills. Does she really understand that?

I'm very young, but I've been trained, tested and am told I have the ability to Command. I'm not an Engineer I can't do what she does. My biggest fear is that she may believe she can do my job too.

So much depends on her being able to recognize her own limitations; I hope her bitterness doesn't blind her to the edge of her envelope.

Too many lives now lie in her hands.

***

I tried to force myself to sleep, but was mostly unsuccessful. I found myself standing on the knoll in the gray before dawn. My thoughts are not nice.

Visions of a familiar figure bloating in the sodden grass under a golden green sky. A foot protruding from under a jamb of trees, rocks and brush up the canyon compacted between the cold stone wall and an immovable boulder. Standing before an empty flag draped casket in an obscenely beautiful cemetery, hearing the screams of three jets overhead in a cloudless sky. Of sleepless nights, wrapped in cold sodden sheets trying not to think about how fucking useless I am.

My agitation late yesterday, after speaking with Major Drake, translated into roaming along the broken down wooded cliff that would be the approach to the upper lip of the canyon. I was looking for the best route to urge the FRED up with my two teammates in tow. My roaming had an unexpected side benefit; all this time many of us had wondered where all the excavated rock had gone. Even wondering if the builders had some kind of Zat technology and disintegrated it.

So wooded was the rough incline up the cliff it disguised a ramp of broken rock. I trotted back to camp and nearly dragged Captain Ellis to the mountain. He was able to confirm my notion that this was the missing rock. I had just solved and added another puzzle to our increasing store; this was at least a fortuitous one.

Shaking the distasteful images from my all too vivid imagination, I returned to our temporary camp in the tunnels.

I hoped to eat and gather my little group, to pass on last minute instructions. In case we didn't return, a real possibility on an unknown planet.

I used my last couple of weeks well; with my new security clearances I read every field-action report written by Colonel O'Neill and SG-1 and as many of the other teams as possible, which were not many. The Colonel and SG-1 had a lot to say in the last five years. Dr. Jackson was the most prolific writer I had ever seen, so I skimmed most of his reports. O'Neill's and Teal'c's I read word for word soaking up ten years worth of experienced warrior observations. What I read was devastating, not just to my own ego, but to the idea that Earth will survive our new role of citizen of the universe.

As I walked across the already dusty stone towards the darkened ramp my mind roamed over those reports, of how SG-1 beat the odds and survived longer than any other team. The average life expectancy of a member of a SG Team was less than three years; death or disability ended their association with the SGC in that time. This average has improved over the years mainly to the efforts of Colonel O'Neill, one of the few who has beat the odds and survived mostly intact the longest. This thought improved my mood. The man claimed to have bad luck, but to me it appeared he had the best of luck. Impossible good luck. If anyone could survive the fury of nature I had witnessed it would be him.

A new optimism suffused me, stepping with a firmer lighter step; the world brightened just a bit. I would find him and bring him home. I have found his presence important to me and we needed to talk about that.

I stepped onto the dark ramp and finally into the too bright common room of our camp, breakfast was underway. Major Ellis was not in the room, as I helped my self to the food I asked where she was.

"Left hours ago, down to the lower level. Denise is also gone," softly offered Lt. Wong.

I smiled at the big biologist fondly; he was the easiest member of the team to get along with. His gentle optimism nearly overwhelmed by his shear size, once you got used to looking up at him he was funny, helpful and always genuinely pleased to see anyone. He appeared to walk through life with rose-colored glasses.

"Gone?" I asked smiling at him, but puzzled at his last statement.

"Denise and Major Ellis spent most of last evening in the diagram room. I could not but help to notice, they spoke loudly and angrily at one point."

The big man frowned and shook his head.

"Okay, but where is Kent... ah, Denise now?"

"Down in the diagram room, mutter to herself when not talking into her digital recorder."

"Do you have any idea what they were so excited about?"

"Denise was trying to convince Major Ellis that there is some kind of control that can empty the cisterns into the Gate Canyon."

That was interesting, if that were true, then it could be possible that part of that control may have shunted the excess water into the canyon rather than flood the lower level of the tunnels. Lucky for us and unlucky too.

"So?"

"Denise could not tell her exactly where to look, so she is searching in likely places for it. Neither could agree what would constitute a likely place."

He smiled, as if he had uttered the world's best punch line.

"Thanks Dennis, I appreciate you telling me."

"You are in charge, you needed to be told. I do not believe that Major Ellis can do a better job or that Colonel O'Neill is telling you what to do. I see that you are doing the job. I have watched you with great interest. Maybe it is the lack of animal life here, you are the only interesting thing to watch besides O'Neill."

"You watch Colonel O'Neill?"

"Yes, I watch him watch Major Ellis, like an alpha wolf watches the beta. He favors you to be alpha, not her."

"Uh...thanks. I think."

"People are animals. What applies to one will apply to the other. Simple."

"Why do you watch me?"

"Because O'Neill threats you as offspring."

I am stunned, shocked. 'Offspring,' as in son? How can that be?

"But..."

"It is true, he sees many as children to him, but he chooses to nurture you. That made me curious, so I watched. You are like him, maybe very like him before he was damaged."

"Damaged?"

"Yes, in the past he was hurt badly, physically and mentally. Most likely more than once."

"You don't by chance have a degree in psychology do you?"

"I found it prudent to have one, yes. As I have said humans are animals..."

"Applies to the other... yeah, yeah, I remember. And you can see this... damage?"

"If you look, yes."

"I..."

"Haven't seen it. You cannot see what you refuse to see in yourself. You too are damaged, but not as badly as he."

My shocked fury showed.

"Please, I would never presume to pass on such knowledge as this. I only tell you because you both care for one another. I wish you both to see the other for who they truly are. If you are not careful great pain can be caused, instead of being friends you could become bitter enemies. I would not like to see that."

I thought back to my thoughts after the Colonel handed me this assignment, so easily I could have hated him. Not just at that moment, but for the rest of my life. I had so unknowingly come close to what Dennis alluded to. I felt faint.

"I see by your face that you have already come close to hating him. He makes many bold moves, not all are immediately recognized as benevolent. I am sure he would willing die, rather than hurt you in any way."

I abruptly sit down; thank god, we were both in the far corner, alone next to one of the wide sills that serve us as seats. Lt. Wong sits down next to me, very close, the better to speak and not be overheard. I look up into his eyes and see compassion there. I know he can see my desperation as that compassion turns to sadness.

"It is part of his damage, this willingness to die. You must never present him such an opportunity, he is not suicidal, but he does not have a great deal of self-preservation. He lives for those around him; he feels he cannot live if they do not. To safeguard him, safeguard yourself."

"But..."

"Yes, as I said you very like him. So, the converse is true. Although I believe that you can actually defeat this tendency in yourself, it has not taken root yet."

"I'm surprised that you can see all of that."

"I have spent all of my life in observation of other's interactions and I believe my father's genes help. The Wong's are long lived and very wise."

Our conversation is interrupted by the arrival of Captain Everett. We both turned to face her, she appeared nervous.

"Sorry, to interrupt. But Monty... Uh, Captain Ellis has the FRED ready to go."

"Thanks, Marie. Tell him I'm be there soon, just a matter of a few minutes."

Dennis and I watched her quick retreat to the surface. I turned my face to this gentle wise giant who knew way too much about Colonel O'Neill and me. I intently searched his eyes for his motive; his only response was a smile. Dropping my eyes, I began to speak:

"Dennis, I don't know what to say. You probably know both of us better than we ourselves do. I'll think about what you've said. But, right now, the only thing that matters is finding Colonel O'Neill. He some how holds the answer to my future and maybe I hold his. Guard the fort. I am loath to leave it in Drake's hands. No choice."

"I shall endeavor to keep her too busy to do other than her job, the rest will help. Do not fear, I feel this will all work out."

"I hope you're right."

***

Getting the FRED up the wooded slope to the top of the creek canyon was easier than I anticipated. It seems that the rubble ramp had a gentler slope, not being at all business like in reaching the top; it angled up the cliff, decreasing the incline and taking longer to get there.

Captain Monty Ellis, our geologist theorized that the builders did it deliberately, maybe there where other ruins further up into the mountains. Heavy traffic would have an easier time on a shallow incline. He even wondered out loud if another such ramp led down to the plains.

He could be right; no one has really looked for a way down there. Even to my untrained eye there didn't seem to be enough rock used in the construction of this ramp to account for all of that missing in the construction below us. There are so many questions about why this whole base, facility or what ever you wanted to call it is here or who built it. Why is it abandoned? Why and when was it built? The biggest question is who built it.

Dr. Kent has only found the a few symbols in the Diagram Room. Symbols that are common to dozens of unrelated languages and probably dozens more that are related. She is still looking for inscriptions or traces of any kind of data storage. It looks hopeless; she is constantly forced to revise backwards the age of the complex, thereby decreasing the chance of translating anything if it is found.

Captain Marie Everett is taking advantage of our slow pace by procuring additional plant samples. She is tireless, dashing ahead and dashing back, making me dizzy. And driving Monty insane, with his bum knee and brace he can't afford to follow her around, yet for some reason he feels obligated to keep her in sight. Afraid that he'll tire himself out, I intersected one of Marie's dashes past me and asked her to keep an eye on Monty letting her know that I think maybe he should ride the FRED from time to time. I had no idea that I had just created a monster. I guess you have to be a little maternal to be a botanist. Marie is a lot maternal. She did get him to ride and involved him in her sampling. He rode while writing tags for the sample bags, something she finds hard to do with the nerve damage in her shoulder. She tends to hold the whole arm close and only uses it as a prop. I watch her dash around selecting next plant victim. Actually, it worked out well like this I could increase the speed of the FRED just a tad, not much, but it made me feel better.

I had made a minimal list of equipment I wanted on the FRED and left the rest up to Monty and Marie. I did specify that we might have to transport Colonel O'Neill back to camp on it. Monty impressed me by reciting to me exactly what was on the FRED. He added more rope, and stripped our camp of as much of the First Aid supplies as he thought were safe. He found climbing equipment, I had totally forgotten it was with us. I hadn't thought of extra clothes and a sleeping bag, Marie's contribution. It embarrassed me a little to think that I hadn't thought of this, we had found O'Neill's pack. He had nothing. Great leader I am.

It took us three hours to climb the wooded ramp, which took us in the opposite direction we wanted to go. That added another hour to our eventual arrival at the lip of the creek canyon. Once there, Monty and I scanned the canyon with binoculars, him looking at the rock and I looking for the Colonel. He was more successful than I was.

Monty was able to tell me that the canyon got frequent floods, the rock was not prone to landslide and the creek was serpentine in form. Meaning that there would be frequent places for debris to pile up when the floodwaters lowered to the point that large objects started to drop out. These objects would catch and collect other objects, creating jambs. If the Colonel had been caught in the canyon and not carried to the plains, he would most likely be in a jamb. The bad news about that is we may never know it and he would probably be dead.

I was hoping to find him up here where we are. Alive.

We made slow progress up the canyon; frequently stopping to use our powerful glasses cover every inch visually. I was relieved that we didn't find as many jambs as Captain Ellis expected, nor were they are massive as he feared. This is where Marie came in handy, she visually

***

What I would give for a Zat right now. Stupid bushes!

"Eric, ah... Sir, let me give you a hand out of there."

Above me, Capt. Monty Ellis' arm was stretched down to me, fingers splayed in invitation, while his face twitched simultaneously in specific places, giving me a hint of his thoughts. My spontaneous and totally unexpected fit of laughter echoed over the water he's offered to help me from as ripples ringed out over its surface, caused by my sudden tiny quick movements of uncontrolled mirth. Now Ellis' face fairly undulated as he attempted to keep it straight, making stifling my own reaction to my tumble into the stream even harder to control.

After all the hours of worry and strain while searching the canyon, this somehow seemed the only thing I could do, just cut loose and laugh at the ridiculous situation I now found myself in. So in contrast to the awful truth that I was out here in the slight hope of finding my commander and newest friend alive and well. That slight hope died by infinitesimal increments with each step further into the wilds of PBX 123 we traveled.

The devastation we found all along the creek canyon was mind numbingly complete. Ancient forest giants were reduced to so much kindling. Boulders had tumbled like empty grocery bags in a stiff breeze, boulders that would normally take a few charges of C-4 to move a few feet. Debris jambs appeared so tight that even a nuclear device seemed inadequate to break them apart.

Our passage had been ridiculously easy until we hit the first of many streams that empted into the canyon we followed. Our pace slowed by the incline down to stream responsible for digging such a mammoth ditch, but the tangle of bushes and the rock-choked stream itself was the hardest obstacle. Stopping us dead in our tracks.

The stream was protected by a barrier of bushes too high to just force the MALP over and too thick for any of us to wiggle our way through. And since there were no large animals on this planet, we couldn't follow a game path that might have crossed it. We were faced with an extremely effective living security fence that we needed to breach to get to the next impediment. Crossing the stream itself.

It was at this point that I could have kissed Capt. Maria Everett. Actually I would have been tempted to do that at the slightest opportunity, but this was special. She had in her possession a machete, two in fact. One was hers and the other belonged to Lt. Wong, our xeno-biologist, and according to Capt. Monty Ellis each had already proved their worth in helping set up our first ill-fated camp. And now they were more precious than gold and gems. They were our key to pushing through our first setback.

Marie rode the MALP while controlling it one handed, it was slow going, but Monty and I could swing the machetes with more impact than she could and even with two of us hacking she spent more time stopped, than moving ahead through the tangle. It really didn't take long to hack through about six feet of brush, but it felt like a lot more. The water was a pleasant reward after the sweat we worked up.

After enjoying the water I discovered it also presented me with a whole different set of problems, requiring additional solutions. Lucky for me I had two savvy people with me, because this not so outdoors boy would be up the creek without a paddle if left to my own experience of the great outdoors. Sure they train us to get down on our bellies and slither through it, but getting a rescue mission across wild country. Well we talked about it. And talking is nowhere near doing.

Monty suggested that we stick closer to the canyon edge when we have to cross a stream, as they tend to be shallower there than back from the edge. And Marie suggested that all the bushes we chopped down could make an excellent fill for the rough spots in the creek. And so it went, we hacked a hole in the brush to the inevitable waterfall and used it and rocks to fill in the deep holes to ease the MALP across, and then we hacked through the bushes again on our way back to the high ground. We did this at each and every stream, except one. That one was devoid of any water. No water, no bushes, hardly an obstacle, I wish there were all that way. Every muscle above the waist feels stretched beyond shape, burning and trembling with exertion. And that fatigue led to my current watery downfall.

Stretching up my own good hand I grasped Monty's and he pulled me from the stream. I caught Marie hiding her giggles behind a hand before she made like she was busy. I grinned. For a moment, for just one moment, I forgot.

Jack. Colonel O'Neill.

He was out here, somewhere, and I had just forgotten that. None of us were here to have fun, to explore or collect specimens. We were probably looking for the body of my newest friend, a man I was finding that I needed. And maybe I couldn't live without. And I had forgotten.

"We'll find him."

"Of course we will," I grinned at Monty, not feeling at all the emotion that should be behind such an expression. His own told me he somehow knew what I was thinking, how I was feeling. With a reassuring smile he stepped back, giving me the space to recoup under the guise of shaking off the excess damp that clung to me. Inside, I knew no matter how hard I tried, I would not shake the damp that lodged around my heart and soul. My only recourse, rather than catatonia, was to slip back into that state of being called 'taking care of business.'

The physical side of taking care of business readily dried my clothes during our now familiar routine of getting across the current stream and through the next brushy barrier, we were forced to zigzag up a rocky slope, rougher than any we had traversed before, so I stayed close to make sure both of my people were doing okay. Previously I had hugged the cliff line, searching in vain for Colonel O'Neill.

The long shadows of the lowering sun would soon give way to full dark and I knew we would have to make camp. Even under the brilliance of the crowded starscape further travel would be dangerous. And the thought of missing something in the sunless canyon during that time would be beyond my endurance. Just as the long wait for the sun to return, test it.

We had traveled further than even I had dared hope, despite the streams, bushes and rough slopes.

My last long endless night in our temporary tunnel quarters had not been spent in soul damning despair, not that I didn't experience that also. But I studied every scrap of digital video that showed our course of travel. Burning every detail deeply and forever into my memory, never would I forget this alien landscape for as long as I lived. Nor the lesson soon learned that those images in my head did not necessarily give me the ability to accurately translate them into a sure knowledge of my path. Such as our difficulties at the creek crossings, this current rough slope and what would the upcoming smooth stone ahead reveal that mere images could not?

It was with relief that our group finally crested the heights. Before us was an open expanse of dark shiny green-black rock that seemed to shimmer with the latent heat of it birthing, stretching nearly to the horizon. An occasional tree or bush and boulders dotted it. The boulders were strange, nearly white, blindingly so in the swiftly dropping sun. Capt. Ellis explained they were glacial erratics, they excited him a great deal, Marie headed for the plants, while I controlled the MALP to a group of rocks intent on stopping there for the night. I pushed the little vehicle as fast as prudent; I too wanted to check out the area, to see into the canyon before darkness fell.

Tossing the control box atop the bungee webbing securing the load to the MALP, my swift steps took me to the precipice. The air tugged me towards nothingness as it plunged into the narrow cold slot water had sliced from the stone. The canyon edge was as if a knife had cut it, dropping straight down, smooth, featureless and daunting, below a light patch of drifted sand rose in height above the dark floor to my right. A trapped tree poked skeletal limbs from the top of it, close to the sheer wall.

Slowly I let my eye drift through the canyon, hoping to see a familiar figure, one that I had somewhere lost the hope of ever finding. Unwilling to go far from my two companions I walked up stream a couple of thousand feet searching all the way, then reversed my direction, using my binoculars to slowly search every anomaly until I reached the skeletal tree again, and what seemed to be a bush catch between it and the rock wall. Then I repeated my actions downstream. But the dead tree kept drawing my attention, I had the feeling I was missing something.

Halfway back to where I had first stood on the canyon's edge, I noticed the partial circle of a crater in the downstream side of the drift of sand; a truncated limb seemed to lie partially across it, like a strange sundial in form. Dropping to my stomach I decided this was a good place to do a last slow look before darkness made seeing impossible. Slowly I worked my way up the canyon floor to the tree, stopping I studied the depression, and blinked. Movement, did I actually see movement, or only thought I had? Frozen I watched and it did, move. Or appear to. Since my accident my depth perception has not been the greatest, so...

"Captain. Ellis," I spoke quietly into my radio.

"Sir?"

Crap! That was close, startled, I rolled partially over to find him standing close above me, a worried look on his face.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you, but you've been here for awhile and you weren't moving." He shrugged sheepishly; he had been concerned for me. That emotion from others was still very new, illustrating the motive behind this little trip. I craved this from others, just as I craved to give it.

"Yeah, guess I have. Would you mind looking at something for me? I... I can't make it out," I could feel my face heat at such an admission of weakness. Teal'c had told me that I share this jaded misconception of a perceived lack of ability with a certain colonel we both were acquitted with. Physical inability was no one's fault and one should not feel shame because one's body had limitations. He makes a good argument, but it is difficult to convince one's self of it.

"No problem," he said as he flopped down on the cool stone at my side. Pointing to the 'bush' I handed him the binoculars.

A wave of weariness swept over me as Monty raised the glasses and began to adjust them, I rested my warm forehead against the stone, letting its cold suck the heat from my skin until chill began to spike into my brain. Something touched my shoulder, and then moved up to my back, it was comforting, warm, I pulled myself from my drift.

"There's a man down there, I'm sure of it," the warm pressure increased, it was Monty, he had looped his arm over my shoulders before telling me the first part, somehow I knew there was more. "He isn't moving."

Holding in the sob I answered, "Colonel O'Neill is a survivor Monty, I'm not worried."

General George Hammond

Angry. Damn right I'm angry.

Nothing, the man told us nothing. He knew nothing. He hardly knew as much as we did.

At least I won't have to worry about the violation of his constitutional rights. There is little chance of prosecution because he knows absolutely nothing. Can't even jail him for being in the Mountain, he was brought here against his will. It's called kidnapping.

He readily admits he works for the NID, only he doesn't know any names. Not even the men on the plane, whose photos were taken by Cochran and Mackenzie, God only knows where those two are at the moment.

This embarrassment to my base insists that his name is Means. Somehow I believe him.

Dr Means knew what he had to do, but there is only his word that he was 'ordered' to convince the young lieutenant that he was worthlessness. And when the boy was lost and alone, let the NID know where to find him. Though Dr Frazier was certainly excited when he gave detailed information about the drugs he was using to accomplish this task. Apparently the young man's new roommate had screwed the mental programming schedule just enough for Colonel O'Neill to arrive 'before' the boy was broken down enough for delivery.

Lt. Van Sickle must have a guardian angel. Now he has a Black Ops Colonel and a formal First Prime too. If only that were enough to keep him safe, for I know that his newest guardians are followed by hordes of devils and demons.

Money just appeared in our bad doctor's account, each time from a different one time use only account, Major Carter spent a great deal of time hacking for me this time. Untraceable.

His orders received, by e-mail, phone or personal visit. All untraceable. Even his retirement package couldn't be traced. And from the looks of that package all of us were working on the wrong side.

Currently he and, er... 'Mr. A. Whole'? And I have yet to hear the explanation behind that name. Both men are sedated in the Infirmary, well, that's not entirely true. Seems Mr. Whole is catatonic and needs no sedation. He is in full restraints. Now that we need Mackenzie he's not around.

There are two squads of SFs looking for Dr Mackenzie and Captain Cochran, they will have a great deal of explaining to do once they are found.

All other participants in this non-conspiracy have spent the day in the conference room outside my office awaiting my pleasure. When I have a question or need information I visit them. They are a most subdued group presently.

Teal'c was not subdued. He has spent most of this day inside my office, sporting an extremely pleased look. Causing me to double take every time my sight crossed his face, it was so unnatural and sinister on him. Unable to stand that smug satisfaction I told him about losing contact with O'Neill. The difference was startling and unsettling. It is times like these that remind me that Teal'c is not a man, even if he looks like one and I insist inside that he is.

He is alien, like Thor or the Nox, unpredictable and dangerous no matter how much they profess to care for humans. How O'Neill can make that kind of leap of faith with the unknown is beyond me. These beings hardly have the same values as we. Yet, Jack places his life in this 'man's' hands routinely and trusts him with lives that are important to him, mine included.

Is there wisdom in that? Or folly?

Teal'c's reaction to my news has me feeling petty. After all, being alien, he did his best to meet the challenge of our culture. Some humans I know would not have done half as well. Who am I to crush him like this? Jack's friend and O'Neill's commander, that's who. I have the duty, responsibility and pleasure of looking out for the man. Despite what his other friends do.

As for the performance in Holding, Teal'c was less than forthcoming with an explanation. And what little he did say was steeped in Jaffa tradition. As O'Neill would say 'that Jaffa revenge thing.' That statement I'm afraid is more truth than not. It seems that these men messed with Teal'c's adopted family and that is not tolerated by any Jaffa. One group wiping out the out, to a soul, solves similar squabbles on Chulac. Needless to say such squabbles don't happen often there. Making me wonder just what he had originally planned and why did he change it. Don't get me wrong, this shows promise; Jaffa can learn to change their ways and accept a different morality. This one did. Would there have to be an 'O'Neill' for each Jaffa to achieve this? Let's hope not.

Further proof of Teal'c's acceptance of a different morality showed when I lectured him extensively about his behavior and circumventing my authority. Pointing out that O'Neill was my subordinate as an example. He took it well, in near silence, but did offer up a monosyllabic apology, I think. But no promises to avoid repeat performances.

Now I wish I could get this man to O'Neill, put that fierce determination to a better use. Protecting someone who needs it, Jack would have a hard time convince this 'man' to back off. Having Teal'c at his back right now would make me feel much better. First we have to establish communication with PBX 123, sending people through the Stargate blind is foolhardy. Anything could have happened and in my experience probably has.

This whole thing is a mess, there will be some very private conversation and memos generated from this. As for action, all I can do is ship the two prisoners on to an outside legal group that deals with this kind of thing. They will spend time in a military lockdown until a solution is come to, which I hope is long in coming.

Damn! Not knowing what happened is frustrating. The only real fact I know is that the Stargate exists and works, as for the planet. Lord knows.

Lt. Eric Van Sickle

Monty helped tie the knots in my makeshift rope harness, my bound fingers were getting good, but this was difficult. I fidgeted unceasingly, anxious to get to the Colonel. Marie lay on her stomach at the lip of the canyon, binoculars glued to her face. She'd been that way all the time Captain Ellis and I worked to get me roped up for the descent down to the unmoving man.

It had taken all three of us to get the FRED lifted and wedged onto rocks that held all four wheels above the ground. We placed the front against a convenient boulder wide enough to use as a stop, before lifting the chassis. The wheels would be used as powered pulleys; the boulder would stabilize the FRED against the pull of the rope that would lower me down the rock wall. Since the front wheels would be used, we could angle them via the steering control, enabling us to place the drop point of the rope in a wide area along the canyon lip before it. Thank goodness the FREDs used air filled tires; we deflated the tires. The empty tires would now cradle and hold the rope. We had a winch.

Monty turned to place the rope on our makeshift winch, while I picked up an armful of rope, carrying it to the jump off point, about twenty feet to left of the FRED. I stopped beside Captain Everett's awkwardly positioned body; she was using her bad arm as a prop. She used the good one to hold the glasses as she leaned over the precipice.

"Captain?" I let her rank hold all my questions and hopes. Not moving she answered.

"I'm sorry Sir, no signs of life from the Colonel yet. He could be asleep or..."

"Unconscious or dead," my voice flat. I felt shame wash over me, such a stupid thing to say. "Damn, I really need to kick this trend for pessimism, it's really depressing," I put a lot of optimism and an unfelt lightheartedness into those words. Trying to reassure Marie and possibly myself that all would turn out well, despite my constant assumptions that it would not.

A hand clamps onto my shoulder.

"I don't see how Marie can see anything down there, it's too dark."

Captain Ellis' words has me checking the sky for the position of the sun, I hadn't noticed how long the shadows had become. Night was coming on fast. Would I be able to get the Colonel out before full dark?

"Then we should get this show on the road," I declared.

Marie got up, putting the binoculars safely on the ground; she would control the rope as it slides over the edge of the canyon. I sat, legs dangling, next to the folded plastic tarp the rope would slide across rather than the cutting rock. Monty returned to the FRED to take up the slack and engage the drive. I heard the quite whine of the engine, then felt a gentle tug on the rope harness telling me that the rope was now tensioned, it was time for me to go over the side. I nervously eyed the drop into the gathering gloom below me. I wasn't afraid of heights; I just had a very heightened respect for them. Very heightened.

I glanced back to Monty getting a thumbs up, then over to Marie who smiled reassuringly. I took one last look down.

"Here goes," I puffed out as I slithered over the edge.

I hung by my elbows for a nano-second before I felt the rope slacken, I let myself slide, groping with my feet for purchase on the smooth unseen rock face I hung against. Finding my feet, I pressed against the stone and leaned back into nothingness, bouncing just a bit I tested my stability. I glanced up to see Marie still smiling at me; I nodded prompting her hand signal to Monty. I began a slow, short bite repel down the wall. I had a good one-handed grip. As my maimed hand wasn't much of help at this, I crooked my elbow around the rope, thankful for the tough fabric of my BDU jacket. I felt the fabric begin to heat as my arm slid down the rope.

We had all decided that I would go down the wall a good twenty feet downstream of the Colonel's position. None of us wanted to bring any debris down onto the injured man during my decent. Having better than 150' of clear canyon lip to use, we could move the rope above or below that mark with ease.

And, I was, bringing down debris. Dislodged, stones clanged loudly on other stones below on the canyon floor. Many boomed and bounced repeatedly; nearing the bottom many no longer had multiple landings, as they could no longer achieve the velocity necessary to energize those bounces. Skittering was now the sound they made.

So intent on the distracting sounds of the falling rocks I staggered and nearly went down, I had attempted to repel without anywhere to go.

'Stupid, Eric. Pay attention damn it!'

I twisted to lean my back against the wall, fumbling with the knots, to unleash myself from my now unnecessary support. My legs trembled. I stretched out my maimed hand trying to loosen the burning bicep of that arm; I had hung a lot of my weight on that crooked elbow. As the rope dropped away from me, I keyed my radio.

"I'm down. Haul up the rope and send down the packs."

I received three clicks in response no words were necessary. There was no new information to pass.

I hastily stepped over the writhing rope headed for the Colonel.

[see Chapter Twelve]