originally printed in Now Departing on Gate 1

The grass rustled in the breeze, the warm sun beat down on four backs and on a verdant valley where the bodies of a defeated army provided meals for crow-like birds and small fuzzy scavenger animals. They hadn't been dead long--a day, two at most--but their gear had been picked clean, anything useful missing. On a spire of rock stood a tall sentry, guarding the small battlefield, a wicked-looking spear in his hand. His head was tilted in a listening attitude and his face was turned in the direction of SG-1, who lay in a row behind a thin cover of brush and weeds. He was probably on the side of the victors, who were likely to be jumpy enough to doubt the peaceful intentions of the team from Earth. Teal'c had seen the motion of the tribal guardian, his metallic armor glinting in the brilliant sunlight as he climbed to his vantage point, and had offered warning. As one, they had flung themselves flat in their meager shelter. The very atmosphere of the battlefield suggested discretion might be the better part of valor.

"Jack, he knows we're here." Daniel's voice was a mere breath, inches from Colonel O'Neill's ear.

"He did not have time to see us, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c corrected. "He did not turn in this direction until we took cover." The Jaffa regarded the watchman warily, one brow lifting as he considered the possibility that they had been spotted.

Daniel lifted an abrupt hand. "Wait," he breathed in a voice too low to carry. "Watch."

The sentry was staring right at them. Daniel had the odd feeling he could look across the intervening distance and meet the native's gaze head-on. Maybe he'd seen a motion out of the corner of his eye, but that could have been dismissed as one of the carrion birds from the battlefield. Yet his face was turned directly toward the SG-1 team.

"I think he's right, sir." Captain Samantha Carter wiggled a bit deeper into the tangled undergrowth. "Every time we move or speak he knows it."

"ESP?" O'Neill asked wryly. He wasn't the type to like bizarre abilities in native tribesmen--or in anyone he encountered.

Teal'c lowered his rumbling voice still further. "I believe he can see us and hear us."

"From so far away? Nobody can hear that far."

"Nobody from Earth, you mean, Jack." Daniel plucked a burr out of his hair. Why did this sound so familiar? "Just because he looks human from this distance doesn't mean his people came from Earth originally."

The Colonel scanned the battlefield with his field glasses, his mouth tight as he observed the abandoned bodies. "I don't see any trace of SG-4 down there."

"But the locals could have stripped their gear, sir." Samantha fell silent, then added regretfully, "If they walked into the middle of this little war, they could be among the dead..."

"I hope they didn't precipitate it," Daniel muttered. He didn't want people he knew to be lying down there, hacked and mutilated. Yet those bodies all had had families and friends to grieve for them. Daniel had been forced to fight before, sometimes hand to hand, sometimes in a wider scope, once to save the Earth itself. They had no information on this particular little war except the dead. "Sometimes a couple of hostile tribes can get a little touchy if a stranger wanders by."

"If everybody's as alert as that character," Jack jerked his head at the tribal sentry, "I don't think they could have gotten very far. This guy just might have been elected for guard duty because he has the best hearing in his tribe. We're only a quarter of a mile from the Stargate. They'd want to keep anybody from getting too close without warning."

Teal'c frowned. "You believe the natives fought each other for possession of the Stargate?"

"Well...they could have, with the battle so close," Daniel put in thoughtfully. "Jack! You don't think SG-4 had to fight off all those people on their own?" He shook his head almost immediately. Under direct attack, SG-4 would have done everything possible to return through the Stargate rather than gun down dozens of primitives armed with spears. Maybe there had even been Goa'uld here, although there was no evidence of staff weapon wounds. Jack would have mentioned it as he surveyed the dead and, besides, Daniel could see spears jutting up from several of the bodies.

SG-4 had come through the Stargate to P4K 621 nearly two days ago. When they had not returned or sent signals and the M.A.L.P. had sent back nothing but a view of a tranquil scene, General Hammond had ordered a quick reconnaissance mission to investigate their disappearance. Daniel hoped the missing men weren't lying down there in that field. Although he could see only one style of costume among the bodies, which might suggest the victors had removed their own dead, it didn't mean SG-4 hadn't been there, too. As strangers from the other side of the Stargate, their bodies might have been carried home in triumph; they might be prisoners, or their heads might stand on pikes outside the village of the conquering tribe. In spite of his protective armor, the man on the opposite hill was not dressed like the dead. His costume contained a lot of gauzy drapes under his armor and theirs was more given to leather and metal studs. They had shorter hair, too.

"I think our friend was on the winning side," Daniel said into Jack's ear and explained his reasoning.

"Yeah, makes sense." He passed the glasses to Daniel, who lifted them to his eyes to scan the sentry.

Very dark eyes stared directly back at him.

Daniel nearly dropped the glasses. It needn't mean the guard had seen him, just that he was looking in their direction, but there was in his expression the awareness of someone who is sharing a look. As if to prove it, the man lifted a hand and stabbed a slender figure in their direction as if to say, 'you're next'.

Another man shifted beside the sentry. He had been sitting so quietly at the guard's feet none of them had noticed him before but now he stood up and put his hand on the taller man's arm and spoke to him. The first man shook his head in a quiet reassurance, then he pointed at Daniel and the rest of SG-1 again, speaking urgently.

Daniel gave the glasses back to Jack. "We've been busted."

Jack pushed his sunglasses up on his forehead and peered through the binoculars. His muscles tightened. "Okay, kiddies, that's it, we're out of here. Maybe we can come back after dark with night scopes. No matter how good this man's vision, that should even the odds." He pulled his sunglasses into place and wiggled down the hill toward the Stargate. Teal'c hung behind as they moved, providing the team cover with his staff weapon. The sentry watched them go, arms folded across his chest, then he moved after them, not as if he meant to attack, but more to see them off his land. He never challenged them outright, but he followed them all the way, coming a little closer while Daniel dialed home. When they finally stepped through the Stargate, he stood behind them like a beacon on the nearest hilltop, watching them depart, his companion at his side.

"I can't help thinking I've come up against something like that before," Daniel said in the briefing following their return to the SGC. "Someone with heightened senses, I mean. That man looked human, rather like a South American tribesman. I don't know as much about the native culture there as I do about the European and Mesopotamia-based cultures, but I'd pinpoint him from the Andean region, with progress."

"How do you figure the progress?" Jack challenged him.

"The metal armor," Daniel replied. "Not that the Andean cultures didn't work metals--they did a lot with gold--but the style has altered. They might be Incans, transplanted; they even look a little like some of the tribes of the 20^th century. They did seem territorial. At least the sentry didn't call down an attack on us. He merely waited for us to leave his land."

"Yes, but he didn't wait for SG-4 to leave his land," objected Sam.

Jack shook his head. "No, but they might have walked into that war. Everybody would have been a little trigger happy. It's not a good time to welcome tourists. What bugs me is how we get them back. That guy not only could see us from a great distance, he could hear us too. Hell, he could probably smell us."

"But if those people were transplanted from the Andes on Earth by the Goa'uld," Sam said, reasoning it out as she went, "then either that man possesses unusual abilities and was chosen by his people as a watchman for that reason or the natives have evolved since being taken through the Stargate."

"Or the abilities developed because of conditions on P4K 621," Daniel theorized.

"I do not believe the man who accompanied him possessed the same abilities." Teal'c frowned. "I observed both. My vision is acute, but not enough to notice the second man before he stood up. He looked in our general direction, but not as if he could see us in our concealment."

"That's right," Jack agreed. "So not all the natives evolved after winding up on P4K 621."

"That's really interesting, Jack." Daniel's mind was going full tilt.

"It might be interesting to you but I don't know what it means. I get the feeling you're gonna tell us, though?"

Daniel grinned. "I read something once about tribal guardians with heightened senses. If we could figure out how that sentry does what he does, maybe we could come up with a way around it, at least long enough to find SG-4."

"You think it's more than the guy with the best vision and hearing getting tabbed to watch the battlefield?" asked Samantha. "Not just a question of assigning resources where they can best be used?"

"Well...that, too," Daniel conceded. "But I know I read something about how a primitive tribe would have a special guardian. His senses were enhanced; he could detect changes in the weather and the sound of invading armies, things like that."

"And that's going to help us how?" Jack always came up with the practical questions. Pure theory didn't hold much appeal for the military man.

"Because I met someone once at an anthropology conference who had made a study of it," Daniel remembered. "He'd found lots of people with at least one heightened sense and was looking for someone who had them all. It works better in a primitive environment, he said, when the person can be isolated from society."

"That was definitely a primitive environment, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c put in. "The concept is known to me. Persons with heightened senses are a special target for the Goa'uld, who wish to possess such beings to enhance their own abilities. I am told that the gifts generally wither after a period of time, although the Goa'uld make no such admission. If they know of such powers on P4K 621, they would make periodic raids on the planet. Which would explain the sentry's presence so near the Stargate. He would be able to hear it open and his people could take cover."

"So you're saying that, when we go back there, those people will know the minute the gate opens?" Jack frowned.

"As soon as it powers up, most likely," Sam agreed.

"Then at this juncture I'm reluctant to approve a return mission," Hammond decided. "Dr. Jackson, is there any way you could contact the man you mentioned? Perhaps he might know of a way to neutralize the threat."

"I don't know if he'd have clearance," Daniel volunteered. He'd gotten to know Blair Sandburg fairly well during the conference, enough to realize the man had enjoyed an unconventional upbringing. "His mother is a hippie and I think he spent some time in communes as a child."

"Oh, for crying out loud," Jack sputtered. "I can see I'm gonna believe everything this guy has to say."

"Blair Sandburg?" Hammond frowned. "He can provide us with information without knowing about this project. If he's like most scientists I've met, he'll be happy to give us more information than we can use." He saw Daniel's eyes widen and added, "No offense, Dr. Jackson."

"I'd rather have too much information than too little," Sam, herself a scientist, said stiffly.

"So would I, Captain Carter," the General conceded. "Dr. Jackson, do you know how to reach this Sandburg?"

"Yes, he's working on his doctorate at Rainier University in Cascade, Washington. He's an ABD--all but dissertation," he clarified when Jack grimaced. "He's a teaching fellow there."

"We don't have time to send you out to talk to him," Hammond decided. "I'll start procedures to investigate him for at least minimal clearance, and we'll have him brought here. Not to the base itself, of course but to Colorado Springs. If he checks out and has any helpful information, we'll proceed from there. In the meantime, Captain Carter, I want you to work with our research team to develop a damping field or protective shields we could use if we return to the planet. I don't want to leave SG-4 hanging out to dry any more than you do. The sooner we implement a rescue, the better."

Blair Sandburg, quite possibly the world's leading expert in the subject of Sentinels, or tribal guardians with enhanced senses, was eating a bowl of granola when someone knocked at the door of the loft he shared with Jim Ellison. Blair's research subject and best friend, the only full Sentinel Sandburg had ever met, had just emerged from the shower, clad in his slacks and socks, a towel slung over his shoulder. It was 7:30 in the morning and the two of them had planned a fishing expedition, since it was Saturday and Jim didn't have to work.

"Who the hell is that?" Ellison muttered.

Blair put down his bowl. "Get up on the wrong side of the bed?" he teased.

"No, I did not get up on the wrong side of the bed, Sandburg. I just didn't spend enough time in it. And don't sit there gloating because you can pull an all-nighter without turning a hair. Answer the door."

Blair sketched a salute in his direction. "Yes, b'wana." Jim would be fine once they set out for their fishing expedition. He ambled over and pulled the door open, staring when he saw an Air Force Officer standing there stiffly in full uniform. Casting a doubtful glance over his shoulder at Jim, who had been in the military and might be expected to know the guy, he said, "Can I help you?"

"Blair Sandburg?"

"Yes, but--"

"I'm Capt. Gregory Stiller. I'll need you to come with me, Mr. Sandburg. I've been ordered by General George Hammond to bring you to Colorado Springs for a briefing."

"Whoa! A general wants to have a briefing with me?" This time the look he threw at Jim was an urgent one. Bail me out, Jim. I don't know what's going on here.

Ellison moved at once to his side. "What's this all about, Captain?" he asked.

"Private business with Mr. Sandburg, Mr. Ellison."

Oops. This guy not only knew Blair, he knew who Jim was. A sinking sensation grew in Blair's stomach. What if the military had discovered Jim was a Sentinel? But then they'd want him to come, too, wouldn't they? Colorado Springs? Not the Pentagon? What was in Colorado Springs? Omigod, NORAD.

"You want me to come to NORAD?" he blurted. "What's going on here? I don't know any government secrets." Could it be something to do with his mother? Naomi didn't seem the type to get mixed up in the defense of the nation but maybe she'd been picketing.

"No, this has nothing to do with NORAD, other than the proximity of the base," Stiller replied. "You are not in trouble, simply an expert we need to consult. We'll require your expertise for perhaps two days. You will be returned here afterwards."

"My expertise?" Blair blurted. The only thing he was that much of an expert on was the subject of Sentinels. Just to be sure, he tested the waters. "What do you want to consult me about?" Don't give yourself away, Jim, he thought urgently.

"General Hammond will discuss that with you. We need to leave within ten minutes, sir. Transportation has been arranged on military aircraft."

"I'm coming with you, Chief," Jim insisted firmly, his jaw tight. "I don't know what this is about, but you're not going alone. I've got a lot of contacts and I'll call in every single one of them."

"Your presence would be acceptable, sir," the captain said. "But you must be ready in ten minutes."

They had to know about Jim or they wouldn't have allowed that for one second. Someone had done their homework, learned about the Sentinel concept, discovered that Blair had suddenly began to work with Jim Ellison, and that he even shared his apartment. 'Big Brother' knew too much about him and Blair had a nasty premonition about the whole thing. He should insist Jim stay behind but he knew Jim wouldn't. Jim was his 'blessed protector' and he wouldn't let the military walk in and make off with him, not when the military's interest had to center around Jim's abilities more than Blair's knowledge.

Jim hurried up the stairs to his bedroom to finish dressing while Blair went to his room and threw some clothes in a backpack. He had a feeling that, if they didn't agree to go, this character would whisk them away at gunpoint. Besides, Blair was curious. He couldn't imagine why the Air Force would want him. Covert types from the Pentagon, sure, but not the Air Force. Oh, man, this sucked.

No sooner had Jim returned with an overnight bag than Stiller whisked them downstairs to a waiting car with military plates. Sitting uneasily beside Jim in the back seat, Blair braced himself for the trouble to come.

They discussed the problem briefly in the military plane, isolated from Stiller, who sat apart from them, probably to avoid questions he could not answer. "Jim, you've gotta watch your every move. I don't know who these guys are or what they're after, but if they just agreed nicely that you could come it says they've checked out your background. They might know you're a Sentinel. So keep it really low-key, if you can. Maybe you should have stayed in Cascade."

"Come on, Sandburg, let a trouble magnet like you run around loose? I've gotta be there, to protect my interests and keep my eye on you."

Blair grinned. "Unless this is some weird deal about Naomi, it's got to be because I know more about Sentinels than anybody else. That's the only thing special about me."

Ellison's eyes lit with wry amusement. "If you're fishing for a compliment, Chief, you'll have a long wait."

Blair poked him in the side. "Just watch out. Because even if I hadn't agreed to come, I'd still be right here. That sucks."

"We'll play it by ear," Jim agreed. "I know more about the military mindset than you do. Nobody could ever imagine you as anything but a civilian. You don't know how to deal with these guys."

"Thanks for coming, Jim." Blair grinned, but he couldn't hold back his uneasiness.

The trouble was slow to present itself. He and Jim were flown to Colorado Springs and taken from the airport to a nearby hotel rather than to NORAD itself or any other military base. Still escorted by Stiller, but joined by another officer who was never introduced, they were taken to a conference room on the second floor where five people awaited them. Only the older man was in uniform. He must be the General Hammond who had requested the briefing. The guy beside him was in his forties and had an army haircut and the look that Jim shared of being constantly on alert, a holdover from Jim's military days. The civvies he wore didn't disguise it, although the laconic expression on his face suggested blatant skepticism and a cynical humor. Next to him was a very attractive blonde woman who made Blair and Jim both perk up a little. She stood beside a tall, muscular black man with a body like a pro wrestler's and a hat pulled down low over his forehead. And behind him--

"Blair." It was Daniel Jackson, a fellow anthropologist. So that was how they'd heard of him. Daniel must have put in a word for him. Weird. Maybe this wouldn't be as bad as he'd thought. He hadn't seen Jackson for a few years; he'd just finished up his bachelor's degree when he'd met Daniel at an anthropology conference. Daniel's doctorate was shiny and new at the time and his brilliance in ancient languages and cultures was well known. Some of his ideas about all that had been weird--wasn't he one of those who had claimed that the ancient Egyptians hadn't built the pyramids? Ancient astronaut stuff? As the conference progressed, he'd realized he liked the other man and that there might be some sense to his theories. Had he found backing from the Air Force?

He shook the taller man's hand. "Daniel. I heard a rumor that you'd disappeared."

"Well, noooo. I was just...away for a year, living with a...remote tribe." Daniel exchanged a quick glance with the soldier in civvies, and in that glance Blair saw a flash of sadness, a shared amusement, and the kind of camaraderie that exists between good friends. "I've been back for awhile now, working on a project--"

"For the government," Blair finished when Daniel stopped abruptly without finishing his sentence. "Daniel, this is Jim Ellison. I work with him. I'm doing research on the effects of an outsider on a closed society. Jim is with the Cascade Police Department."

"But formerly an Army Ranger," put in Daniel's friend. "I heard about your mission to Peru, stranded in the jungle. We...have an interest in Peruvian tribes at the moment. I'm Jack O'Neill. This is General Hammond, Sam Carter, and this is Teal'c." He waved his hand at the big man with the hat.

Teal'c? What kind of a name was Teal'c? One of the newly invented names popular among African Americans? He'd never come upon that one before. Blair's mind was going furiously. If their interest was in native tribes, maybe Jim had been allowed along for his eighteen months' experience in the jungle rather than because anyone had guessed about his Sentinel abilities. But there were anthropologists with far more knowledge of South American tribes than Blair. He didn't even have his doctorate yet.

"How do you do, Blair Sandburg," said Teal'c formally, swallowing up Blair's hand in a bone-crushing grip.

"Blair's fine," he said hastily, flexing his mangled fingers. "This is Jim Ellison."

Jim shook hands with Teal'c, unfazed by the grip. "What kind of interest in Peruvian tribes?" he queried. "Mine is limited to the Chopecs. I went down in their region and lived with them for part of the time."

Daniel hesitated. "Well, that part might be useful to us; you'd have a general idea of tribal customs. That was why, when we had you investigated..." his voice trailed off. "Sorry, but they tend to work that way. Clearance, that kind of stuff." Maybe the brass had decided that Daniel should explain because the others stood aside and let him, although Blair could sense an gravity in their faces, even in their postures, that suggested the need was urgent. He wasn't sure how a knowledge of Sentinels might be critical to the 'project' or what it might have to do with pre-Columbian tribal cultures.

"Go on," said Jim warily, his posture suggesting he was ready for trouble.

"I've read some of your papers on the Sentinel concept, Blair," Daniel said. Although Sandburg had expected that, he had halfway hoped he was wrong.

Jim's expression was careful to reveal nothing but exasperation. "That stuff," he said.

"I bore Jim with my research all the time," put in Blair hastily. "He's heard more about Sentinels than he ever wanted to know. Why do you want to know? They're not exactly common in the 20^th century. I've found a lot of people with one heightened sense and even found a couple with two but there aren't Sentinels running around everywhere these days."

"Suppose you found a remote tribe who had a sentry with signs of heightened awareness?" asked Samantha Carter. "Would you assume he might be one of your Sentinels?"

"And just what exactly is a Sentinel anyway?" asked the general.

"Well, the concept was first written of by Sir Richard Burton in the 19^th Century," explained Blair. "The Sentinel's job would be to protect the tribe by warning them of danger, that of enemy tribes, wild animals, weather changes. He could detect the threat because his five senses were enhanced; it appears to be genetic and is apparently activated by isolation. Just being lost on a camping trip or choosing to live in isolation wouldn't be enough. Only someone with the genetic predisposition would turn into a Sentinel. Even then, his burgeoning senses might overwhelm someone who didn't understand it. I suspect the primitive tribes learned who had the abilities during manhood rituals, a rite of passage alone in the jungle or the bush. Anyone with the predisposition might be trained. And I believe that male and female Sentinels have a genetic imperative to...propagate the species." He didn't look at Jim as he spoke. He wasn't sure he wanted to see the look on his face when reminded his recent encounter with Alexis Barnes. "It doesn't seem to be common in modern society and there's not very much written on the subject, a book, some old journals."

"Anyone with the ability might be some kind of primitive throwback," Jim had an edge of wryness in his voice that only someone who knew him well would catch.

"So it's more likely to happen in a primitive culture?" put in Daniel. "Have you found any in your field studies?"

"I've been with tribes in several parts of the world," Blair replied, on safer ground. "I haven't found anyone on those trips who had the full ability. I did find three or four people who had heightened sight and hearing, but that was all. Even the remote, primitive tribes today tend to wear Pearl Jam tee shirts and carry a Walkman. It's harder and harder to find a tribe remote enough to stick to the old ways."

"But if you found a--a Sentinel?" put in O'Neill, "would you be able to get past him, to confound his senses?"

Blair and Jim exchanged a doubtful glance. They'd expected the others to indicate a knowledge of Jim's abilities and a need to use them, but this sounded as if they had found a Sentinel of their own. Wow, that was great. But they were here in Colorado, not in a primitive jungle, far up the Amazon or high in a remote Andean village. Where on earth had they found a remote tribe with a Sentinel watchman? And why was it so urgent?

"Well, there might be ways," Blair said thoughtfully. "But it would be tricky. White noise might block off the sound of an approaching enemy. But that wouldn't block the other senses."

"Suppose there was a sound that couldn't be masked before the white noise emitters could be set in place?" O'Neill asked.

"Then your best bet would be to make it seem like a fluke," Blair said thoughtfully. "If you could get downwind and had good cover--even at night a Sentinel can see more than you'd expect. Even if you went in at night and set up white noise dampers and wore night scopes, you might just even the odds. There are ways to temporarily put a Sentinel out of commission." He very carefully avoided looking directly at Jim. "Can you tell us what this is about? I could answer better if I knew the layout and what you needed it for."

"The most we can tell you is that we need to get past someone with heightened senses to rescue members of an exploration team," O'Neill explained.

"All the senses?" Blair asked eagerly.. If the answer was yes, Jim couldn't go with him, even if the military would permit it. He couldn't risk a repeat of what had happened when Jim had come into the orbit of another Sentinel.

"You're snowing us," Jim said abruptly. "It's not usually the job of the Air Force to go on rescue missions like that."

"No, but this one is," O'Neill replied, rolling his eyes at Daniel. "You've been in the service, Ellison. You understand that this is a 'need to know' situation. You don't need to know. All we can say is that four Americans might die, if they haven't already, unless we can bypass a threat that Sandburg understands better than anyone else on the planet. Time is short; we have to do what we can within the next few hours."

That meant whatever it was most likely was somewhere on American soil. Possibly Mexico or Central America, but that would be pushing it because they'd have to transport to the site and even if they could jet most of the way, he'd still have go to in either in jeeps or on foot. Unless it was someone holed up in the mountains nearby. Survivalists? Religious fanatics? "It'd be best if I could go along and handle it," Blair volunteered. He didn't like the idea. It was bound to be nasty. Jim couldn't come, either. Blair wouldn't put his friend through a close encounter with another Sentinel again.

"You don't have clearance," O'Neill objected immediately.

"He's right, Jack," Daniel insisted. "He can tell us all he knows and something could still come up unexpectedly that would throw us off. We don't want to kill the guy. We just want to get SG-4 back."

SG-4? The missing team. Blair wondered fleetingly what it stood for and decided the odds against them telling him were high.

"I don't like it, Dr. Jackson," the general said. "It's too risky, taking a civilian through--" He didn't complete the sentence.

"I'm a civilian," Daniel reminded him.

"A fact that gives us all cause to ponder." O'Neill's words were wry, but they were also amused and teasing. Daniel grimaced, humor in his eyes.

"I, also, am a civilian, General," Teal'c reminded him.

"This is a rescue mission," put in Samantha Carter. She didn't deny being military, Blair noticed. "If Blair wants high tech equipment, I can produce it. I would suggest devices to induce high pitched sounds, or a sudden bright light might momentarily render the Sentinel helpless, but I wouldn't know how far to take it. We don't want to blind and deafen the man. We just want our people back." She turned to Blair. "Could such equipment work?"

"Yeah, but it might be risky. If it wasn't done quickly, he might still have time to give a warning. And then there'd be the shaman or guide to consider."

"I didn't see that mentioned in the material I read while we waited for you to get here," Daniel said. "We got some of the Burton material and all your published sources, but there was only a fleeting mention of that. The 'Sentinel' we saw did have someone with him. Is that what you mean?"

Blair cast a quick, uncomfortable glance at Jim. Daniel was smart enough to have already figured out what Jim was. And if they'd already researched Blair's published papers and knew about Jim's Peruvian experience, they probably all suspected the truth. The more he told them, the more he made it possible for them to control Jim.

Blair considered. "Somewhere, you've found a Sentinel and his people have captured four of your men. That's what you want me to do, help you get past him so you can rescue your people, right?"

"Are you willing to do that, Mr. Sandburg?" asked the General.

He nodded. "I'll help. But I'm working on my doctoral dissertation and I need to use the material I've already researched for that. I don't want my work to be sealed up under a top secret classification just because you've pulled me in. I know I can't use specifics of a classified mission, but I have to publish my information in general."

"This project cannot be mentioned," Hammond insisted. "Even if you discover that we have located a full Sentinel, you will not be able to use that fact in your research. You will be required to sign a non-disclosure contract before we go any further."

"He means it, Blair," Daniel said. "It's classified. They won't do anything to halt your existing work but if you mention any of this they'll know. You'll gain knowledge of a sentinel in the field, and that might help your dissertation generally, but you can't refer to this mission."

"Don't forget, they've got missing people who are prisoners, chief," Jim reminded him. "It's dangerous. Somebody's taking hostages and you might be next."

"It would be worth it, to see a primitive Sentinel in action." In spite of the danger, Blair was excited. Working with Jim had accustomed him to danger. He'd been shot at--he'd even been shot. He'd nearly been blown up in an elevator. He'd wound up face down in a fountain. His experience had taught him to think on his feet in a deadly crisis, something he might not have learned otherwise. He wanted to help, even if it meant signing the form the General had mentioned.

Papers were produced and he and Jim read them. It seemed pretty clear-cut. They were involved in a top secret action and disclosure of anything learned involving that mission was forbidden. The least the military could do to them involved legal action, it seemed. The worst was pretty bad. Even if he couldn't refer to that Sentinel, he was bound to gain useful information. It was worth it. Too fascinated to back down, he signed his form. Formerly military, Jim already understood the value of security clearances. He didn't like it, but he signed, too.

It didn't sound like this was about Jim except peripherally. Except--they'd mentioned Peruvian tribes, but they couldn't get to Peru in three hours. "Only it can't be in Peru." As he said that, he remembered that members of the Chopec tribe had come to Cascade once. Surely they hadn't wandered into Colorado?

"We don't know that they're Peruvian," Daniel said. "Take a look at this and see what you think." Now that the papers had been signed, the evidence was appearing. Blair took the paper Daniel passed him.

It was a computer enhanced photo of a man standing on a hill. At first glimpse, Blair would have said 'Peru', too. The facial features, the hair, the angle of the forehead, everything about him suggested an Andean-based culture, nearly Incan. Not Chopec. But this was not a drawing; it was a modern photograph. "This is so cool," Blair exploded. "Who took this picture?"

Daniel's team considered the question for hidden snags. "That doesn't matter," General Hammond said just as Daniel opened his mouth, probably to say, "I did." He got the 'I' out before Hammond cut him off.

"This is your Sentinel, though, the guy you have to get past to rescue your team? First of all, he sees you. You can tell. He's practically mugging for the camera. Second, here's his guide." Blair pointed to a shape at the bottom of the picture. "He's there to keep the Sentinel focused but to stop him from being too focused. There's something called the zone-out factor. The best way to get past this guy is to find a way to induce a zone-out. He'll focus so closely on one of his senses that he'll go into a kind of trance. You can walk right by him. The guide is there to shake him out of it if it happens."

"We can trank him," O'Neill volunteered. "If we can get close enough to the Sentinel, even if he's doing this zone out number, we can stun him long enough to go after our missing team. But we can't stop him from knowing we're coming."

"Why not?" asked Blair.

"That's another of the things you don't need to know," Carter told him. She turned to the general. "I don't know of any means of neutralizing the sound of--our arrival, at least not from...here." Maybe they had to go in by helicopter.

Jim was ultra alert, not to the point of zoning on any of his senses, but probably measuring the heart rate and watching to make sure Blair didn't accidentally give him away. But he was also putting together clues from the things these people were not saying. Maybe he'd understand them better than Blair would. He did have the army background.

"If you can't stop him from knowing you're coming," Blair said, "then you need me to stop him from doing anything about it. I'm probably the only person alive who knows can do that."

"I think he's right, General," Daniel replied.

"I understand the high tech equipment he might need," Sam put in. She turned to Blair. "I'm a theoretical astrophysicist."

"But you wouldn't know the human factor," Blair argued. "You don't want to kill the Sentinel, just rescue your people. But you could do irreparable damage to his senses. A full Sentinel is a unique human being. There can't be many of them in the world."

"If they can do what needs doing--" Jim began. He didn't sound remotely happy. Blair wasn't sure if it was the risk to his guide he didn't like or the fact that Sandburg was so excited at the idea of encountering another Sentinel.

"I don't know if they can," Blair objected. "They'd probably wind up killing the Sentinel, and if the guide is right there, they'd have to kill him, too, or he'd go and tell the tribe they killed the Sentinel, and then they'd never get their people back."

Hammond intervened. "We'll discuss the option privately. We'll as you to wait while we do." He gestured at O'Neill, who went over to the door and beckoned in the two officers who had brought them from the airport. They ushered Blair and Jim were ushered across the hall to a small, bland room with chairs, a table, and a stack of old magazines. The door closed firmly, sealing them in.

"Oh, for crying out loud," O'Neill burst out the moment they were alone. "You can't mean to take that--that hippie through the gate with us? I think it's a crummy idea ,General. Any time we come up against a specialized need, we recruit an outside expert? We might as well send the story to the National Register and be done with it. They can let the NORAD tours come down and wander around SGC while they're at it." He gave a snort of exasperation. He'd known this was a bad idea.

"Jack, I know Blair Sandburg," Daniel put in, spreading his hands in a placating manner. "Okay, I don't know him as well as I know all of you, but he is the only expert in this particular field." He began to pace around the room. "If Blair can get us past the sentry, we have our best chance of rescuing SG-4."

"Assuming the sentry really is a Sentinel," Jack argued stubbornly. It sounded like serious scientists didn't acknowledge the concept. It was something the Sandburg kid had dreamed up, something obscure that maybe couldn't be disproved, something he could write a book about to suck in bucks from the gullible. "Okay, so that sentry could see and hear us, but there's no saying he's one of the Sentinels Sandburg is so hung up about."

Sam looked thoughtful--and intrigued. "I know you don't like the idea of Sandburg or even of his Sentinels, but I think the sentry on P4K 621 might well be one. I suspect Ellison is, too. Why else would Sandburg suddenly start working closely with a specific police officer. That 'outsider in a closed society' thing sounds like a cover-up to me, especially if his dissertation is about Sentinels. I can understand why they'd want to keep it a secret. If Maybourne heard about a person with Sentinel abilities, he'd be locked away to be studied so fast his head would spin, probably even have his brain dissected."

"As Maybourne would have done with me," Teal'c reminded them. "And would still do, given opportunity." He sounded sympathetic to a potential fellow victim. Jack had to admit that he would tend to side with Maybourne's victim rather than with Maybourne himself.

He made an impatient gesture. "I've heard of Ellison. The man's covert ops--or was. Army Rangers, special forces. Stranded alone in the jungle for eighteen months. If Sandburg is right about solitude triggering the heightened senses, then he's a perfect candidate. He has to know being exposed would mean major trouble. We've been through it, trying to keep Teal'c out of the limelight. If he is a Sentinel, he'd be more useful to take through the Stargate than that long-haired kid. He'd probably have better security clearance, too."

"No, Jack, Sandburg is the expert." Daniel frowned. "Think about it. Suddenly, all your senses go haywire. How would Ellison even understand it? And he's military. His mindset is more rigid than Sandburg's. Think how you'd react if it happened to you. You wouldn't exactly be open to it, even if it could be useful."

"Ya think?" Jack countered wryly. "So I'm rigid and closed off to new experiences?" He cast Daniel a baleful glare.

Daniel grinned apologetically. "Come on, Jack, you know you don't like things you can't understand and explain. Scientists enjoy the unknown, and you don't."

"Scientists," O'Neill grumbled. He'd never quite understood the scientific mindset, even now that he knew Daniel. Jackson was tried and true, someone he would trust with his life--and had, many times. That Sandburg kid made Daniel almost seem restrained, and that long hair...

"It's Sandburg who understands the process. I got the feeling he didn't think it would be a good idea for Ellison to go. Maybe putting two Sentinels together is like putting two pit bulls together. Or maybe the things neutralizing the native Sentinel would neutralize his friend, too. We need Sandburg. If SG-4 hasn't managed to free themselves, I think he's the best chance we have to recover them without bloodshed."

"What about you, Captain Carter?" Hammond asked. Jack had always admired the fact that he would listen to all sides and make an informed decision rather than going with his immediate gut instincts. That characteristic had saved their lives more than once. "Considering the fact that there are some questions about his security clearance--"

"What questions?" Jack demanded.

"Background questions. His mother was a hippie and had some radical beliefs and friends, and exposed Sandburg to them while he was growing up. His current references are excellent. His scholarship is respected at Rainier University, and the Cascade Police Department has a high opinion of him, although they say he can be a loose cannon, in that he is not police trained and he doesn't always follow procedure. He can think on his feet and present unique answers when the need arises and has saved his own life and that of others because of that ability."

"I think those sound like high marks," Sam replied. "His arguments suggest he is thoroughly conversant with the field, and he is willing to work with both high and low tech options. It's obvious the native Sentinel's people are willing to kill without mercy, although we don't know the provocation for that battle. If SG-4 is to have any chance, I think we need Sandburg."

Jack could understand the rationale. Sometimes the only key to a dangerous mission was using what worked. That was why Daniel had come on the first mission to Abydos, because he had claimed he could find the symbols necessary to activate the Abydos gate and return them home. Daniel had proven himself repeatedly since. He didn't think very highly of the long-haired Sandburg, but how much of that was simply because of his prejudice against scientists and the hippie hair? If Ellison, whose entire demeanor still screamed 'military' could tolerate him, maybe it would work.

He turned to the Jaffa. "What about you, Teal'c?" He was inclined to be taciturn, but he saw more than he ever acknowledged, and his opinions were usually well reasoned.

"I believe Blair Sandburg speaks with genuine knowledge. Ellison appears to trust him. It would seem reasonable to suspect that Ellison is a Sentinel. I believe I could work with both men."

"There you have it, General." Jack fought the exasperation in his voice. "Sandburg needs to have it made very clear what would happen if he revealed anything." Jack could still remember that reporter who had approached him when he and Sam had gone to D.C. for the medal ceremony. The sickening thunk of the car hitting the man still brought a bad taste to O'Neill's mouth. "He'll be all excited about meeting another Sentinel, and he might get carried away. I want him to understand from the onset that at the very least he could be imprisoned for disclosure."

"He knows that from the non-disclosure statement," Hammond said. "I don't like it, but short of sending over an army to retrieve our people, I don't see another way. All right. Sandburg goes. But remember, people, this is a need to know situation. Even if he goes through the Stargate, he doesn't need to know where it takes him."

"He'll know the minute he sees the night sky," Daniel murmured.

"But he won't know it officially," Hammond replied and nodded for Daniel to go after the others.

"Jim, you can't go," Blair insisted the minute they were alone. "You remember when Alex came to Cascade. You can't have two Sentinels together. It would give away the secret from the start, besides what it would do to you. I don't want to put you through that again."

"I know how I reacted around Alex, chief," Jim said tightly. "I don't want to face that--or risk your life, either, not after finding you face down in that fountain." He shivered reminiscently. "But you'd be going into a hostage situation without backup. They'd shove you into the front lines and I wouldn't be there to back you."

"I know, Jim." He raked his fingers through his hair. "I know you didn't want to hear me tell you about Alex, but I could have made it clearer to you what was going down. I should have figured out you were reacting to a threat to your territory and to whatever happened to the two of you when you were seeing those visions. I understand now, and I know you can't go. I'm not sure where I'd be going and they won't let me tell you. That sucks, but they've got people in trouble and I'm the only one who can help." He gazed up at the taller man. "Are you okay with this?"

"Not really," Ellison admitted honestly. " I hate it, but I won't stop you. I know who O'Neill is, though I've never met him. He's a hard man. If he's the one I'm thinking of, he had a family tragedy. His little boy got hold of his service revolver and accidentally killed himself. They say O'Neill only got harder after that. I'm not saying don't trust the man. From what I hear, he's honorable. But he won't watch your back the way I would."

"Oh, man, that's terrible." Blair could imagine O'Neill's reaction to the loss of his son. He had felt wary of the unfriendly O'Neill but it seemed the man had a reason for being that way. Yet he was Daniel's friend and Daniel had a good heart.

Jim pursed his lips, deep in thought. "And that character, Teal'c..."

"What about him?" The tall, silent black man had made Blair uneasy. He'd felt strength radiating from him and something else, something he didn't understand.

"I was monitoring heartbeats and respiration in there, to try to tell if they were all telling the truth," Ellison explained. "And I've never come across what I felt from him before. His heartbeat, his pulse, everything--they weren't normal. I focused on him pretty closely, and I'd halfway swear..."

Blair's eyes widened. "Swear what, Jim? You're making me nervous. What is it?"

"I'd halfway swear there's--another life form inside him. I know it sounds crazy. But there's something, a kind of energy I've never encountered before."

"Another life form inside him?" Blair knew his eyes were as round as saucers. "Like a Trill on Star Trek?"

"Oh, sure, aliens right here on earth," Jim scoffed. "I don't know what it is. I just want you to watch out for him. Got it, Sandburg? You'll be out there without backup. Sure, they'll cover you if they can, but it won't be safe."

"I know, and it sucks, Jim, but I have to."

"Because you're gung ho to see another Sentinel?"

The way Jim's words landed flatly in the air made Blair reach up and catch his arm. "It's not like that. You're my Sentinel. I always thought this Sentinel and shaman thing was a bond; one Sentinel, one shaman, especially after Incacha said I should watch out for you--and after sharing that vision with you when I was drowning I know it is. I got carried away, wanting to study Alex, too. This time, I might be able to get more information that will help you--without endangering you in the process. I have to do it, Jim. Besides, the missing men need what only I can do."

"So you're willing to go through with this?" Jim asked. Blair wasn't sure Jim understood but he could tell that Ellison wouldn't stand in his way.

"I don't want to," Sandburg admitted. "Though I do want to see a Sentinel in the field. That picture--he was a primitive Sentinel. That's what I can't figure, Jim. That's why I'm so excited. Where would they find a primitive Sentinel within a few hours of Colorado Springs? Do you think maybe they found a lost civilization in the mountains? It would explain why they had Daniel on the team."

"Lost civilization?" Jim shook his head. "You come up with the wildest theories I ever heard. I don't think there's anywhere within a few hours of here remote enough for that."

"Well, maybe they've got supersonic transport or something."

"We walk through that?" Blair stared at the circle before him, eyes wide with awe and disbelief. Its surface rippled like a pond, glowing with energy. He'd never seen or imagined anything like it and he couldn't guess its purpose. "Where does it take us?" So that was how they could reach their destination so quickly. Not supersonic transport after all, just ultra-high tech, science fiction stuff. "What is it, a teleport system, like the transporter on Star Trek?"

"Something like," O'Neill conceded wryly. Blair's wild guess must be closer to the truth than he'd realized and the only reason O'Neill had admitted it was because he'd find out for himself in another minute.

He, Daniel, Teal'c and Sam were dressed in military type fatigues--they'd found an outfit for Blair, too. Except for Sandburg, they were all armed--even Daniel had a sidearm, and Teal'c carried a long staff thingy that might have been a weapon. Not only that, the removal of the hat he had worn had revealed a weird gold tattoo on his forehead. He remembered what Jim had said about this man. What did it mean? That Teal'c wasn't...human? That was crazy. He looked human. He wasn't another Sentinel or Jim would have known. A 'life form' inside him? That was just too weird. He couldn't be a Trill. No spots.

"It will feel a little strange at first," Daniel said. "You get used to it, but the first trip is a real doozy."

"To where?"

"Classified," said O'Neill shortly.

Blair kept running up against that. He knew this place was called the SGC--signs here and there proclaimed it in no uncertain terms--and he figured the 'C' stood for 'Command' or 'Control'. He'd heard a voice over the p.a. system talking about chevrons being engaged and figured it was some military thing he didn't understand. But there had been seven chevrons and there were seven glowing wedges around the circle. What was more, he could swear he'd seen that seventh symbol before somewhere, although he couldn't recall where. Had it been somewhere in the Andes? That time he'd gone along on an archaeological dig because they'd wanted an anthropology team because of the natives? Professor Flood had taken him and Gretchen Wyler, and when he and Gretchen had sneaked off for a little extracurricular activity, they had found a huge, carved stone, propped crookedly up against one of the massive walls so common in the region. Blair was almost positive he'd seen that symbol incised upon it. He'd have to mention it to Daniel later.

It seemed that walking through that ripple effect would cause a physical dislocation. Oh, man, that was so cool! Was this some secret military project to shift troops behind enemy lines? Or was it more than that? It looked both high tech and ancient, filled with bizarre symbols that might have been an ancient language Blair didn't recognize, but it was run with a complex computer system the likes of which he'd never seen this side of Silicon Valley.

"It will be night when we get...where we're going," Sam told Blair. "So put on your night scopes before you go through. I want you to stay behind us at first; we're armed and you're not." He was glad of that. He'd had to handle handguns a few times working with Jim and had never liked it. Besides, he had his equipment to carry to neutralize the native Sentinel.

"How close will the Sentinel be?"

"They know we came through the gate," Daniel offered. "So I'd think he'd wait nearby in case we came back. Not near enough for us to kill him out of hand. They'll know from SG-4 that we have weapons that can kill from further away than a flung spear. But he'll be close enough to sense us."

That gave Blair a better idea. SG-4? Gate? Maybe the 'G' in SGC was 'Gate'. But what kind of gate? He realized the team was waiting for him, so he pulled the goggles down over his eyes and walked up the ramp with them to the glowing circle--gate--activating the white noise generator. From the noisy hum of the gate he already realized what would alert the native Sentinel to their arrival. That evidently couldn't be masked. But maybe their presence could be.

The liquid surface hummed with a near-subliminal energy. He put up a cautious hand to touch it.

"Oh, for crying out loud," O'Neill muttered in exasperation. "Let's move." He grabbed Blair by one arm and the massive Teal'c grabbed the other, and they stepped through--

--into the wildest roller coaster ride Blair had ever experienced, zipping through an endless twisting tunnel full of light and motion. His stomach heaved up in violent protest and he had to clamp his mouth closed firmly for fear he would lose the light meal he'd been offered before being taken to this base deep beneath NORAD. It went on and on and on....

And then he was through, shaken but alive, dumped unceremoniously onto a packed-earth ramp that led down from the gate, or an identical one, into a night filled with glowing stars, brilliant and undimmed by pollution. He lifted his head to the sky and reeled when he saw two moons hovering near the horizon. Two moons! Omigod. He wasn't on Earth any more. The gate went to another planet. Behind him, the liquid field shut down, leaving only the sounds of night and the subliminal hum of the white noise generator to fill the silence.

Utterly boggled, he nearly forgot to check the generator. Teal'c helped him to his feet--Teal'c, who might be an alien, after all.

"You aren't from Earth, are you?" he blurted out.

One eyebrow lifted--Blair could see it clearly through the night scopes. "No, I am not," Teal'c replied. "How did you know that?"

"Jim could sense--something inside you." Oh, damn it! Now he'd given away Jim's secret. Ellison would never forgive him. The shock of realizing he'd passed through some kind of--of wormhole or translocation device to another planet, another solar system because no planet in the Sol system could match this world or have a sky with such unfamiliar constellations--had shaken him so badly he didn't know what he was saying.

"Quiet," O'Neill ordered in a harsh undertone. "We might as well have brought a marching band." He waved them to move out away from the gate.

"Jack!" The white noise generator couldn't have hoped to compensate for Daniel's alarmed cry.

"Will you be quiet!" the Colonel ordered, making damping motions with the hand that didn't hold his weapon.

"The DHD!" blurted Daniel, gesturing at the spot where the DHD--whatever that was--must have once been."It's gone, Jack."

"It can't be gone," Samantha objected automatically, staring around wildly.

"What's a DHD?" Blair asked. Its disappearance was obviously a bad sign.

"It's the device that activates the Stargate," Sam explained. "Without it, we can't dial in the code for home. We're stranded."

"They want to trap us." O'Neill readied his gun and Teal'c aimed his staff into the darkness.

"You mean we can't go home?" Blair yelped. His mind was busy. 'Stargate'. SGC. Stargate Command? Stargate Control. Wow! He gazed wildly over his shoulder, then let out a warning shout just as dozens of armed tribesmen charged down the hill at them, yelling their heads off and brandishing spears and bows and arrows.

"I'd say it's worse than that." Jack fired a burst over the natives' heads as a warning. The troops ducked and scattered--evidently they understood that much about Earth weapons--but they didn't stop coming.

A flung spear swooped for O'Neill and Daniel let out a wild yell and launched himself at the Colonel, knocking him to the ground. The spear missed them both by inches.

Jack's breath whooshed out and he struggled wildly, winded. "Thanks," he wheezed as Daniel sat up and pulled him into a sitting position. They checked each other for wounds and relaxed when they realized the spear had missed. "Damn it, Daniel," Jack growled, irritated and annoyed, a layer of gratitude nearly smothered by the concern the Colonel felt for the risk his friend had taken. Blair recognized the tone. It was the same one Jim used when Blair risked his life to save him.

"There are too many of them for us to fight, O'Neill." Teal'c set his staff before him on the ground, just as the natives reached him, surrounding him in a fury and screaming what sounded like, "Jaffa," over and over again. Their spears jabbed at him, some poking him lightly. They didn't wound him, but it was pretty clear he only needed to look at them cross-eyed for them to skewer him.

"Yes, but he's a good Jaffa," O'Neill panted, still struggling to control his breathing. Daniel dusted him off, checking him unobtrusively for injuries.

"There are no good Jaffa!" scoffed the tallest man, his face twisting in scorn. "They serve the Goa'uld and steal our children." He spat on the ground at Teal's feet. "No Jaffa who comes through the Chapa-ai mean us well. When the Goa'uld return, we shall offer you to them in trade to get our children back."

"Fighting among yourselves won't keep the Goa'uld away," Daniel said hastily. "We saw your battlefield this morning."

"Those would sell us to the Goa'uld. They are better dead," the tall man insisted. He must be their chief. The clothes fascinated Blair. They were vaguely similar to pictures he'd seen of Incan tribesmen. But why would Incas be on another world? Some kind of alien cross-pollenization? He didn't know who the Goa'uld were or the Jaffa either, although Teal'c must be one of the latter. Maybe the tattoo told them as much. It was the only thing about him that was different, at least on the surface.

"They have a strange weapon," one of the men said, shifting uncomfortably. "It...makes faint distant noises in my head and blocks away the sounds I alone can hear."

The Sentinel. Eagerly, Blair whirled to stare at him. "You are the guardian of the tribe?" he cried eagerly.

At once the warriors turned their attention--and the points of their spears--at Blair. "How do you know this?" the man demanded, his voice weighted with suspicion.

"Because I'm a shaman to one like you," he replied hastily.

At that, the headman approached Blair and stood staring down at him. He was very tall. "Your kind has Sentinels?" he asked as if Blair had just announced the sun could dance sideways in the sky.

"Not very many," Blair admitted. "But yes, we do."

"Why are you not with your Sentinel now?" a smaller man asked, edging up beside the native Sentinel. He must be the man's guide. Blair was interested to see how in tune with each other they seemed. Sentinel and Guide were friends here, too.

"Because some of our people are missing, and I came along to help to rescue them," Blair explained.

"To use Goa'uld tools against me," growled the Sentinel. "To dampen my power with your magic. You are a traitor to all we stand for. I spit on you." Instead, he spat on the ground at Blair's feet. Grimacing, Blair jumped backward.

"Well, this is going really well." O'Neill had his breath back. He pushed in beside Blair. "We came here in peace. We aren't those Goa'uld guys. They're our enemies, too. We brought Sandburg because we didn't want to have to fight or hurt any of you. We only wanted to take our people away. We could have come here with an army, but we didn't. You might want to think about that instead of just jabbing spears at us."

The chief blinked suspiciously at Jack. "When have the Goa'uld ever needed an army?" he scoffed. "Just Jaffa with their staff weapons to blast us and drive us back while they take away our children. Why should you be different? You have a Jaffa. You have a staff weapon. You have the guns that stun and the guns that kill." He pointed to a strange device Teal'c wore on his belt, and one of his tribesmen stripped it away. The rest of the team's weapons were also confiscated, and one of the natives took Blair's white noise generator, too.

"Well, hey, we stole the zat guns from the Goa'uld," Jack insisted.

"We destroyed two of their ships, when they came to attack our world," Sam added. "We blew them up before they could hurt us. The Goa'uld hate us."

"We came here because we wanted to learn about your people," Daniel added hastily, but Blair scarcely heard him. Alien ships coming to destroy Earth? That had to be science fiction. It couldn't be reality. But what about those unexplained bright flashes in the night sky a few months back that had set off wild speculation among the UFO crowd? What if it was true? What if there was a big galactic war going on and Earth was mixed up in it because of this 'Stargate'? This was soooo awesome. Blair shivered. Home seemed impossibly far away.

"Why do you wish to learn of us?" demanded the chief, never lowering his spear.

"Because our people are like that," Daniel informed him. "We're curious. Knowledge for its own sake is valuable. We also look for allies against the Goa'uld. When we realized you had a Sentinel, we found a shaman to bring with us in hopes of retrieving our people without trouble. If your world wishes no contact with us, we will go away and never disturb you again."

The chief shook his finger at Daniel. "Ah, but you forget. You are our prisoners. We will offer you to the Goa'uld to make them go away. If you are their allies, they will wish for your freedom. If you are their enemies, they will reward us for helping them."

"Wrong," O'Neill corrected. "They won't reward you, no matter what you do. They might make promises but, even if they do, they won't keep them. If we were Goa'uld, they'd be mad at you for taking us prisoner, and if we are who we say we are, they will take us and keep right on coming here. You can't make your children safe that way. The only way is to bury your Stargate so they can't come through."

The chief shook his head. "You think us fools. You said yourself that they have sky ships. They will come across the black night of stars in their sky ships and blast us without even coming down to the ground. Only with hostages can we be safe."

"They won't believe you, Jack," Daniel said. "We have to show them we're on their side."

On their side? With a spear shoved up against his stomach, Blair wasn't inclined to side with the locals, but he understood where Daniel was coming from. It would be better than calling in the marines and blasting the missing men free. Blair liked peaceful solutions.

"You may try," the chief scoffed. "Come, the dark is advanced. We return to the city. You are our prisoners. Tomorrow, you may talk to us at council. We will hear your words--but we will likely not believe them. We didn't not believe your friends who dressed as you did, and we were wise. They had no Jaffa among them but now your true nature is revealed." He gestured to the spearmen. "Bring them. Tonight we will consult the oracles. Much needs to be done. The priests will prepare sacrifices." He wheeled and strode away, leaving his men to surround SG-1 and Blair, and force them to follow at spearpoint.

Sacrifices? What if he meant human sacrifices? "Oh, man, this really sucks," mourned Blair. He could imagine Jim, waiting in the upper reaches of the secret base, incommunicado, never knowing what had happened to his guide. What if he never got home? What would happen to Jim then? And what if the natives sold them to these Goa'uld characters?

More than anything in the world, Blair Sandburg wanted to go home.

Rubbing a sore elbow, Daniel picked himself up off the floor of a windowless, stone house that had been built into the side of a rocky cliff. There was one door and it was guarded by three husky warriors with spears. There was no escape that way.

Once away from the Stargate, the tribesmen had led them to a road made of fitted stones, very smoothly placed. Even in the darkness, the night scopes enabled Daniel to spot what they had missed before, terraced fields marching up the sides of the mountains. There was a more advanced civilization here than he had expected. Still, the Incas on Earth had grown their crops in terraced fields, too.

Then they came to the 'town' and Daniel's jaw had dropped, for it was not a town but a city, vast and well laid out, displaying a superior knowledge of stone masonry, reminiscent of sites like Macchu Pichu. The streets were lit by torches set at intervals and fitted smoothly along the cliff face that would provide both shelter and a wall at one's back in the event of attack. People peered from doorways at the prisoners as they were led well into the town. Escape wouldn't be easy; they were too well surrounded. Designs and carvings on some of the edifices indicated a religion based upon sun-worship. Another similarity to the Incan civilization.

True, the culture was primitive when compared to that of end-of-the-century America, but these were a more sophisticated people than Daniel had expected. If this culture was indeed based upon the Incas, and the style of the buildings suggested as much, there would be dozens of different political groups and tribes, loosely banded together. They would likely battle among themselves--and obviously did--and this group, who were in possession of the Stargate because of location, was probably the dominant group on the planet. The Incans had been known for their superb engineering skills. But their culture had arisen many centuries after the Egyptians had buried their Stargate. Daniel frowned. Other cultures taken from Earth had been the same; the Mongols, the Vikings. Could there be another Stargate, a third, on Earth? Had the Goa'uld come to Earth in ships before the invasion that SG-1 had managed to stop?

"Well, this really has all the comforts of home," Jack groused, glancing around the windowless room. True, there were beds set along the walls, but they were rough cots, such as one might find in a prison cell. "And where's SG-4? Come on, Daniel, give. What were they saying about sacrifices?"

"They didn't say 'human sacrifices', Jack. I don't think the Andean tribes were as prone to that as the Aztecs. They said they were going to consult the oracles. That's typical if they did come from the Andes. The Incans worshiped the sun. They also had a highly organized political system."

"What did they do with prisoners?"

"That would depend. They did say we could talk at council. If they have a Sentinel, they'll want to know more about us because our society evidently does, too." He glanced apologetically at Blair, who tried unconvincingly to look noncommittal.

"They believe us allies of the Goa'uld," Teal'c said grimly, "because of my presence. That was why they removed the DHD and posted the troops at the Gate to await our return."

"It wasn't anything to do with you, Teal'c," Jack told him. "Maybe they were a little touchy, that's all. SG-4 didn't have a Jaffa and they were still taken prisoner"

"We hope that's all they did." Sam edged over to the door and peered out. The three guards instantly pointed spears at her, but didn't force her back. Apparently it was all right to look as long as they stayed put. "I wonder if there are other cells like this one."

Daniel gnawed on his bottom lip. SG-4 might be dead already. Should they escape and make their way back to the Stargate, the locals had removed the DHD and, without it, there was no way to dial home. The natives had removed their backpacks as well as their guns but hadn't searched their pockets. That didn't leave them with much. Jack carried a Swiss Army Knife but one knife against three spears wasn't exactly great odds.

"Does this happen a lot?" Blair ventured. "Getting taken prisoner, I mean?" While frightened, he was in control of himself and Daniel suspected he was thinking furiously. "This really is a different world, isn't it? The...the Stargate takes you to other planets? That is so cool." He glanced around the cell and some of his excitement faded. "Well, maybe not so cool."

"We've gotten out of tough situations before," the Colonel told him. "We'll take care of this one, too. Just keep thinking about ways to bypass that Sentinel when we take off."

"What's all this Jaffa and Goa'uld stuff?" Blair ventured to ask.

Jack frowned, but Sam intervened. "Colonel, he'll have to know the basics. If they question us separately, at least he'll know what's going on." She proceeded to give him a quick history.

"Wow," breathed Blair, eyes huge with wonder. "So your theories were right," he said to Daniel. "Oh, man, that's amazing. All this going on and nobody knows anything about it." He was silent a second. "So you think these people might have originally been brought here from from Peru, maybe by these Goa'uld guys? I saw a carving there once that had a symbol like that last one on your Stargate."

"You did? Where?" Daniel was utterly intrigued. "Jack, that could be the answer. Another Stargate on Earth, perhaps in the Peruvian Andes? We might have to investigate the area and find out. Do you remember exactly where it was, Blair?"

"I know it was in Peru. But I didn't see anything there like the Stargate. I would have remembered that. It does kinda stand out."

"Could what you have seen been a cover stone or cap stone hiding it?" Daniel prompted eagerly.

Blair frowned. "Well, maybe. It was a partial circle--the whole might have been big enough." He sketched the dimensions with his hand, his brow wrinkling as he tried to recall something observed in passing so long ago. "If so, I don't think there could have been a Stargate under it any more. It was broken in half and sort of propped up against a wall. You mean you found the Stargate buried under a stone? You didn't invent it?" Then he shook his head. "No, I don't think you could have, because your people came here through it for the first time. There must be a system of them and when you found one, you learned how to use it. Wow. That's so great!" He was practically bouncing up and down with excitement.

"What can you tell us about the culture in the area where you saw the broken capstone?" Sam asked, intrigued.

"Nothing to suggest anything like a Stargate but it was in an area that had once been part of the Incan empire. There's an understanding of the Sentinel concept in that region, but I never could find much about it when I studied the Incas. I think they were a little too advanced. They had a major political system, engineering, agriculture, public works, all that stuff. They weren't tribal. If they'd ever had Sentinels it would have been before they became a powerful nation."

"Still, they weren't as far from tribal as we are," Daniel reminded him. "And a translocation to another world probably caused some reverting. It's taken them centuries to work up to what we see here."

"Oh, no, he's got somebody who talks his language," Jack groaned. "Daniel, I want you and Sandburg to see if you can remember anything about these Inca guys that will help us to cut a deal and find out about SG-4."

"If they want to trade us for their missing people these Goa'uld took, they probably want to do the same with SG-4," Blair pointed out. "So it just depends on how often they come here. And I don't think they could have taken SG-4 away yet."

Jack eyed the long-haired man suspiciously. "And you know that... why?"

"Because none of you think the Goa'uld would buy it," Blair reminded them. "If they'd been here and turned up their noses at the deal, the locals wouldn't think we're useful for trade, either. We'd be lying out there full of spears." He shivered at the thought.

"But we've got Teal'c," Daniel reminded them. "They think we're allies of the Goa'uld because of that."

"Yeah, but SG-4 would be dressed like you and have the same kind of weapons," Blair persisted. "Even if they didn't have a--a Jaffa with them, once these people saw you this morning, they'd know you came from the same place as SG-4 did."

"He's right, Jack," Daniel said. "They must have known we came for our people, even before we told them so. I think they're alive, just prisoners like us. This room isn't big enough to hold nine people. Maybe they're in the next house."

"Colonel!" Sam turned from the door, where she had been watching the narrow stretch of street. "Something's going on out there. I think we're about to have company."

Jack whirled to confront a new threat, and Teal'c fell in at his side just as the tribe's Sentinel strode into the cell, followed closely by his shaman. They seemed aware of each other's movements as if in complete tune with each other. Daniel had noticed some of that with Blair and Ellison; Blair had directed the conversation a couple of times to cover the fact that Ellison was probably a Sentinel.

Blair tried to edge past Teal'c, who put out an arm as solid as an iron bar to stop him. "It's okay," the guide said reassuringly, ducked under the arm, and edged up to the Sentinel. He was a tall man, prominent of nose and dark of complexion, with wary black eyes and long ebony hair that he wore in three braids that escaped from the cap he wore on the back of his head. His guide was smaller, though still taller than either Blair or Sam, with shorter hair and a giant pectoral medallion with a stylized sun upon it lying against his chest. The Sentinel himself wore no ornaments but a gold earring in his left ear.

The Sentinel pointed at Blair. "We have come to talk to that one. He has spoken of Sentinels on your world. We had no notion that the Goa'uld understood the concept, and we have long struggled to keep it from them."

"Them?" Jack cast a quick glance at Carter, lifting one eyebrow. "You don't believe we're from the Goa'uld?"

"No. Although they all do." A careless hand gestured to encompass the entire Incan city. "I have watched them come; I have been seen on occasion, but they have no awareness of my function besides sentry. You did. I watched you this morning. You understood that I could sense you from afar. You went away but returned with this one." A long finger stabbed at Blair. "You thought to neutralize me with your technology." When Daniel looked surprised at the word, he added wryly, "Do not think that because we live the way our ancestors did who came from the First World that we are ignorant. We have trade with those who come from the sky and through the Chapa-ai. Not all who use the Gate, as you call it, are enemies."

"Wow, that is so great," breathed Blair. "You deal with more advanced races and it hasn't spoiled you? I study anthropology--do you know what that is?" When the man nodded, he went on, "Daniel and I both do. On the 'First World', when we find less advanced peoples, exposure to our culture corrupts them, no matter how careful we are."

"We have progressed, but in our own way," the Sentinel told them. "My function, guardian of the tribe, would have eventually have been bred out of us, but for the arrival of the Goa'uld. Yes, some of our own people war against us and we need to guard against them, but we maintain the old traditions because of the Chapa-ai. We need warning if the enemy approaches, and who but a Sentinel should do that. I am Topec, Sentinel for my people." He nodded toward his guide. "This is Manca Lana, who protects me from the dangers all Sentinels must face." He drew the guide forward.

"I'm Blair Sandburg," Blair introduced himself. "These people have come to rescue their friends. We mean no harm to you or your people. When they recruited me, it was because they didn't want to harm you to get past you--they could have killed you from a distance or brought an army through the gate, but they didn't do that."

"I have thought of this, and I have spoken of it to our ruler, the Inca. He says, no, you wanted to come by stealth to steal our wealth, and so you brought only devious weapons, to block my hearing and my sight."

"That's not why we did it," Jack burst out disgustedly. "We came to rescue our team. We didn't want to fight you. We have our own wealth and don't want to steal yours. Though there are always people who will try to steal valuables, even among my people."

"What Blair says is true, though," Daniel offered. "We don't want to steal your wealth. We only wanted to free our friends. Are they still alive?"

The guide nudged the Sentinel, but he shook his head and answered anyway. "Yes, they, too, are prisoners. The Inca means to exchange them, and you, for those who were stolen by the Goa'uld."

"But you must understand why the Goa'uld steal people," Sam blurted out. "They use humans as hosts, and the ones you try to rescue are Goa'uld now and could not be turned back even if you brought them home."

The Sentinel's eyes grew shadowed. "I do know this. They implant their nasty snakes inside them, such as the one this Jaffa carries."

Blair stared. "Omigod, Jim was right. He said you had another life form inside you."

SG-1 stared at him. Daniel said, "He could tell?"

Blair hesitated, obviously reluctant to give his friend away to the military, though he had already spoken of Sentinels to Topec. Jim's secret was definitely out in the open and he must realize SG-1 suspected as much. "Yes," he finally admitted, adding under his breath, "Oh, man, Jim will kill me."

Daniel gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "It's all right, we'd pretty much figured it out already. We had to do a thorough background check before we could let you near the project, and Jack knew Jim had been stranded in the jungle. We put it all together. We aren't going to use it. We know of military types who would try to use him--they tried to do the same thing to Teal'c. They don't need to know about this." He could imagine Maybourne's reaction when he discovered they had brought a civilian through the Stargate, and Maybourne wasn't entirely stupid. He might figure it out. But none of SG-1 would confirm it.

"Jim will just kill me," Blair muttered again.

"You Sentinel must exist in secret?" Manca Lana asked, staring at Blair. "I would not relish the First World. Even our own is too complex, but yours..." He shook his head in amazement.

"What will happen to us?" Teal'c asked practically. "If it is necessary to free my friends, I will stay in their place, as hostage."

"No, you won't," Jack said without hesitation. Daniel knew he wouldn't give up Teal'c. He clapped the Jaffa on the shoulder. "The last I heard, I'm the Colonel. It's my decision, and I say the team sticks together."

"The Goa'uld won't agree to a trade," Sam told the Sentinel and guide. "They may pretend they will, but they will take us and continue to raid your people. Those who have not become Goa'uld by now are dead. We've seen this on other worlds."

"The Goa'uld take many and use few," Teal'c agreed. "Before I began to fight against them, I and my fellow Jaffa would kill those who were not selected once the choice had been made."

Blair's eyes were practically standing out of his head. "You did not know of this?" Topec asked him.

"I never heard of Jaffa or Goa'uld until tonight," he admitted.

"Then the First World is a safer place than here." Topec heaved a sigh.

"I came because they said there was a Sentinel here," Blair explained. "On...the First World, our society has become too complex to allow for Sentinels. You said it would have been bred out of you here, if not for the Goa'uld. It has been mostly bred out of us. When I found a Sentinel, I was thrilled. I'm learning all the time, and I thought this would be a chance to learn more. Mostly we have people with only one sense heightened or maybe two at best."

"So it is with us; many have one sense, but few all five. I guard the Chapa-ai. It is well you did not bring your Sentinel with you, for two Sentinels do not deal well together. He and I, male and male, would resent each other with a power beyond our control. Male and female is different. You and Manca may deal easier. On your world of technology, do the spirits still speak to you?"

Blair hesitated, then he nodded. "Yes, if you mean the spirit guides." Jack groaned and raised a skeptical eyebrow. Daniel was fascinated and would have loved to ask more, but he knew any understanding that could grow between Topec and Blair would help their cause. Even if the Inca himself suspected them, it was obvious that Blair was being honest. "We don't understand it all. I only found Jim a few years ago."

"Amazing. Here, we know from childhood and Sentinel and Shaman find each other early. After schooling, we live apart from the tribe. You saw the battlefield yesterday. Sometimes others fight us for possession of the Chapa-ai, so it is my task to guard it."

"But if you live isolated, aren't you in danger?" Sam asked.

He stared at her in disbelief. "Who would harm a Sentinel? Distract and confuse him, perhaps, but actual harm? That is not our way. I am safe enough. Even from strange guides, it seems," he concluded, turning to Blair. "For I believe that you did not intend my death. We looked at the device that confounds my hearing. It did not harm me and, once it was controlled, I could hear as before."

"We just wanted to get past you," said Jack. "We didn't want to make war on you, just retrieve our own people. Can we see our friends?"

"Not tonight. The Inca will consult the priests and they will perform the usual rituals."

"Oracles?" Daniel asked.

"Trances?" hazarded Blair.

Jack looked from one to the other of them and rolled his eyes.

The Sentinel studied the two anthropologists. "You know of my people from the First World?"

Both nodded and Daniel continued, "But I don't know whether the priests will tell the Inca what they think he wants to hear or whether they will speak the truth."

"Perhaps some of both." Topec frowned. "Manca, what do you feel?"

The shaman opened his eyes. He had been standing silent for some time, and Daniel realized he had been concentrating, maybe even on an inner vision. "I feel that their guide is a good man who means well, and that he believes these others mean well too. What of you?"

"They did not lie. The heartbeats did not speed when they talked of their friends and of the Goa'uld. The breathing was normal. The eyes did not flicker and dilate. I saw and felt none of the signs of the liar upon them. So I will tell the Inca."

"Wow, you were testing us," exploded Blair. "Jim can do that, too. He's still learning. He wasn't trained from childhood like you were, but he's getting better at it."

"Then you, too, learn fast and well, to assist him. I will think on this. Come, Manca." He turned and led the way from the tent. The shaman paused, met Blair's gaze head on for a long moment, then followed.

"That was so cool," cried Sandburg as the guards resumed their silent positions outside the doorway. "Jim can do that, too, pay attention to the heartbeat and respiration and get a sense of whether somebody's faking. If the Sentinel has respect of the Inca and the others, he can put in a good word for us."

"It is to be hoped he will do so," offered Teal'c.

Blair turned to face the Jaffa. "I could see his reaction when you offered to stay if he let the others go. I'm used to watching reactions with Jim, and when you said that, you really made him think. I don't know anything about Jaffa, but... What was that about a snake inside you? Jim could sense something...."

Teal'c pulled open the front of his shirt to display his symbiont Goa'uld, and Jack groaned. "Not that thing."

As the Goa'uld larva emerged slightly from its pouch, Blair stared in wide-eyed disbelief. "Oh, man...." he groaned, taking an involuntary step backward. He caught himself at once and leaned closer, torn between fascination and repulsion. "I never saw anything like that before."

"It is an infant form of the Goa'uld," Teal'c explained. "In exchange for carrying it within me, I am granted health and long life. It functions as my immune system." The larva drew in again and Teal'c fastened his shirt.

"It's all true," Blair blurted out, nearly breathless with excitement as all the information he had been forced to assimilate finally caught up with him. "You're an alien and we're really on another planet, and there are these Goa'uld people who really tried to attack Earth!"

"And you will forget all of that, once we're home," Jack reminded him. "This project is classified." He frowned at Blair, suspicious of his eager enthusiasm.

"I know I can't talk about it," Blair admitted. "But it's so great." He looked around wistfully, fascinated. Daniel could appreciate the attitude. It would be incredible to study an Incan culture, an actual living one. Sometimes when he went through the Stargate, what he saw was so absorbing that he could close his mind to the risk entirely. Of course Jack watched his back and yanked him away from trouble if he became too captivated by his studies.

"Do you think he believed us?" Sam asked Blair.

The long-haired man nodded. "He did. But I got the idea there were political factions here and some of them wouldn't care if we told the truth--they'd want to see what they could get from us, turning us over to those Goa'ulds. If you try to escape, they'll believe we've been lying in spite of what the Sentinel tells the Inca."

"So we're supposed to just sit here and wait to be turned over to the Goa'uld?" Jack frowned. "Breaking out right now might not be the best option, but they didn't take everything we've got. They never searched our pockets. We could put together enough to make a break for it."

"If we do, Jack, they'll assume we tried to con them," Daniel argued, catching O'Neill's arm and shaking his head. "The Inca is their leader. If the Sentinel can convince him, we'll have a good chance. They've traded with people from offworld before so they might come around to dealing with us, too. Give the Sentinel time to talk to the Inca. Why fight and make things worse if we don't have to?"

"I don't like just sitting and waiting," Sam said. "But we don't know enough to try anything yet. Another ally against the Goa'uld would be good and, if they're trading with more advanced cultures, they might lead us to allies who might be able to help us with technology."

"What do you know about this world, Teal'c?" Jack turned to the Jaffa. "Have you been here before?"

"I have not. I do not believe Apophis ever came here. But there are many Goa'uld. It could have been Ra, or it might be Heru-er, or any of the System Lords." He frowned, considering. "I do not remember mention of a world such as this one. But I believe that, should the Goa'uld learn of the abilities of a Sentinel, they would very much wish to possess one. They relish possessing those with heightened abilities, but they may not know such exist on this world."

"You mean they'd want to--put one of those things inside Jim if they knew about him?" Blair shivered. "But if they have them and Teal'c has one, what's the difference between a Goa'uld and a Jaffa?"

"The Jaffa merely host immature larvae," Teal'c replied. "It does not influence my identity or control my actions. A mature Goa'uld possesses the host and controls his mind. All that he was before is suppressed. The host's identity survives but has no control. We have seen instances where a host can temporarily gain control or the Goa'uld will step aside, but such moments are rare." He didn't say anything about the Tok'ra but Blair didn't need to know that.

Daniel flinched, remembering Sha're, how he had seen her again when she was pregnant with the child of Apophis, how, for a little time, her identity had come to the fore. She had not given him away, even after the Goa'uld within her had resumed control. He had to hope that meant one day Sha're would be herself again.

Jack let his hand rest on Daniel's shoulder in brief understanding, then he drew the group closer, cutting short the information to be shared with Blair. "I want to take inventory," he said. "Find out what useful little gadgets we've still got. Then, what do you say we ask them to feed us? I don't know about you, kiddies, but it's been a long day and I wouldn't say no to a nice, juicy steak."

Jim Ellison was frustrated. They'd taken him and Blair to NORAD--actually to NORAD, which was driving him crazy. Blair didn't have any experience with the military and Jim would have bet good money that, in spite of his work with the Cascade Police, he wouldn't be cleared for Level 1 security. Whatever he saw and experienced on the mission would be so classified that if he even talked in his sleep he'd probably spend the rest of his life in Leavenworth.

Armed guards had taken them down ten or fifteen levels in an elevator and left him in a waiting room, guarded by two marines. He had a TV set that picked up the local stations and a few of the prime cable channels, a few shelves of books on every topic under the sun, and some magazines to help him kill the time. Then they'd whisked Blair away, and General Hammond had lingered long enough to say, "We'll get back to you as soon as we can, Detective Ellison. I apologize for the lack of amenities, but there wasn't time to arrange anything better," before he, too, hurried off in the wake of the others.

That had been hours ago. Even though he knew it was too soon for Sandburg to return, he couldn't settle down to TV, not even the ball game he found. Instead he paced the floor, prowling around the room like a caged jaguar. This was crazy.

They said they had another Sentinel. He'd lost it when Alex had shown up in Cascade, and Blair wouldn't let him within missile strike range of another Sentinel if he could prevent it. That part made sense. But Sandburg wasn't used to military raids. He could handle himself fairly well with the police part of things, but this sounded dangerous. A berserk Sentinel holding troops at bay? A standoff like Waco or Ruby Ridge? That was the last place Ellison wanted to see his guide. They wanted him to neutralize the Sentinel to get their men back. That meant whoever they wanted to rescue to was guarded by people already on the alert. They already had prisoners. It wouldn't be just one Sentinel out alone. There'd be backup. O'Neill had to know that, but he'd want his people back. He'd want to neutralize the situation. Would that make one guide with shaky clearance expendable? It had better not.

Poking his head out the doorway had proven that the marines didn't mean him to leave. He'd been Army long enough to know he couldn't push that part of it. But he wanted more information. So he said, "I want to speak to General Hammond."

"General Hammond is busy now, sir. We'll see the message is relayed, and he will come to you when he can." They waved him back into the room and pulled the door shut.

It wasn't much, but, since he had no choice, it would have to do--for the moment.

Ellison went back to his pacing.

To Jack's disappointment, dinner hadn't vaguely resembled steak. It was some kind of ground cornmeal mush, with tubers that vaguely resembled sweet potatoes, and thin strips of something that tasted a little like chicken--which meant that it could have been anything from reptiles to animals Jack didn't even want to imagine. They were given something mildly alcoholic to drink that tasted so lousy Jack nearly spit out his first mouthful, and didn't take a second. Daniel's wild theories about the milky contents of the glass didn't improve his stomach.

It wasn't a bad meal, though Daniel remarked that too much stone-ground corn would mean the natives were eating a lot of corn-ground stone, which was bad for their teeth. "They've all got kind of flattened teeth," he pointed out. "I think they've probably improved dental care over what their ancestors had but their teeth are still a little worn."

Jack had been too busy checking out weapons, the layout of the streets, and the danger they'd face getting out of here to have given any thought to cavity prevention. "Remind me to go to the dentist the minute I get home," he muttered. "Do you know everything?" he challenged Daniel.

"He's right about the teeth," Blair chipped in. "They've found skulls in Mayan cenotes--sacred wells--and you could tell from the teeth that they ate a lot of stuff that ground them down."

"Between the two of you, I now know a lot more about pre-Columbian dentistry than I ever wanted to," Jack grumbled, hiding a grin when the two anthropologists fell into an esoteric discussion of what they might expect from a post-Incan culture that had been transplanted to another world. It did Danny good to find someone who'd listen to his weirder theories. Jack had to cut his explanations short on missions when the need was immediate. He wasn't interested in the cultural aspect of their jobs; he had their safety to attend to and the mission to complete. But it wouldn't hurt his friend to have a sounding board. This mission might need whatever information the two of them could put together on how the natives were likely to operate.

Some of their ideas sounded a little farfetched, but it kept them busy and, who knew, they might even come up with something useful. Daniel's amazing knowledge had bailed them out more than once. Jack shook his head, smiling a little. Hard to believe the geek he'd met before the first Abydos mission had turned out so well. That year Daniel had spent living on Abydos had taught him any number of useful things to help the team, and he was the quickest to pick up odd little quirks on the worlds they visited, to keep SG-1 from doing things to alienate the natives. He could trust Daniel, and had, with his life.

Sam was completely reliable, too. She could think on her feet, she knew the high tech stuff they sometimes needed, and she didn't have a stuffy bone in her body. She had really proven an ideal second in command. And Teal'c, a Jaffa, originally an enemy, who had taken a gamble because he believed Jack could help him fight the Goa'uld, Teal'c had proven indomitable, loyal, thoroughly reliable, and so much more than he appeared on the surface.

Jack would have gone to the wall for any member of his team. Who'd have thought, when he returned to the service and was put in charge of SG-1 that he'd manage to turn a motley command into a new family?

Then there was Sandburg. At first sight, Jack had been inclined to distrust him, but he had come to realize his snap judgments about people weren't always exactly on the money. Daniel was his best friend, and look how he'd started out. So maybe there was more to Blair Sandburg than met the eye. He evidently knew this Sentinel stuff inside out, had practically invented the study from some chance references he'd found in musty old books. He was right on top of the subject, a quick thinker who hadn't been remotely daunted when he looked up at the night sky of P4K 621 and saw two moons in the sky. The experience thrilled him, maybe not the spears aimed at his gut, but all the rest. Jack would have preferred him to be a little less hyper, but in spite of failing to neutralize the Sentinel so they could sneak to the rescue of SG-4, he was proving more useful than Jack had expected.

A couple of natives took away their empty plates, eyeing Teal'c uneasily and scurrying away without speaking. On their heels came Manca Lana, pausing in the doorway and watching them. "Sandburg. You come," he said, pointing at Blair.

"Whoa. Hold on. Wait a minute." Jack erupted to his feet. "We're a team here. If one goes, we all go."

"One I can safely sneak to the Inca. All I cannot, especially the Jaffa. His kind are not loved here, and the no one will stop to distinguish him from the rest of his people. They are not happy to know that he is here. Two I can take, if you demand it. Not more."

"Then I'll go," Jack decided, pushing himself to his feet. He was in charge of the mission and the last thing he intended to do was to let someone who didn't have a clue about first contact with a new culture handle things. He could trust his own people to watch themselves but Sandburg was a wild card. "He's not a usual member of our team. I'm in charge."

"Colonel, I have spent time living with native cultures," Blair defended himself, pushing his hair back from his face and fastening it at the back of his neck. "I've lived among various tribes, been accepted by them. That's what a cultural anthropologist does. Don't your teams all have anthropologists like Daniel here? I'd think it would be mandatory."

They didn't. Some were more strictly military, to scout out potential worlds, some had specialized tasks. "You still don't know enough about us to handle it," Jack said. "Nothing against your experience or abilities, but I'm in." He lifted an eyebrow expectantly at Manca Lana.

"Then come now, and quietly. And whatever you do, attempt no escape. There are those who do not believe Topec and who would find any evidence of deceit as proof you are our enemies."

"It could be a trap, Jack," Daniel warned, coming to his feet and facing O'Neill. "I know you won't like it, but take your lead from Blair. He knows more about this particular culture than you do. Of course what he knows is based on those who stayed behind on the 'First World' and customs could have changed over the centuries. But still, he'll have some ideas."

Great. Now he was going to have to listen to the little hippie. Even if he did seem smart, it made Jack uneasy. "So who's this Inca guy?" he asked quickly.

"The leader of the people was called the Inca," Blair explained, edging toward the door. "He's the guy with the power--like talking to the President. You're doing a 'take me to your leader' thing, Colonel. It's your chance to put in a plug for Earth."

"He's right, sir," Sam agreed. "But remember, they want Blair because he's a shaman or guide. The Inca will understand his function since they have a parallel in their society. They won't be sure about the rest of us, but it sounds like a Sentinel here is in a pretty protected situation. Take advantage of that."

"I will," Jack said wryly, and nodded Sandburg toward the door.

In spite of the late hour, the city was still brightly illuminated with flaming torches, and a huge fire burned in the central square. O'Neill could hear music coming from occasional structures, high and reedy melodies from pipes, vaguely reminiscent of the weird Andean music Daniel had played in the background once when they'd all gone to his place for dinner. The lighting in various buildings looked as if it might have a more modern power source than the torches. Maybe these people's trade with off-worlders had given them more technology than he'd thought at first. Once he heard laughter coming out of a building that might have been a tavern, and another time he saw two men standing in a doorway arguing over what looked like a collection of knotted string.

"Quipu," said Blair in Jack's ear.

"Gesundheit."

"No, that's what those guys have. The Incans didn't have writing. Instead, they used a means of record keeping made up of a series of elaborate knots. That's what those two men have. Maybe they're working out a business deal."

"You know our language and customs?" Manca Lana asked, lifting an eyebrow.

"I know some words in Quechua. Which reminds me, why is everybody speaking English? I didn't think of that before; there was too much going on."

Jack shrugged. "That's one of those odd techie things that Sam has a theory about. When we went to--the first planet we visited, Daniel had to learn the language so we could communicate. He could read it but didn't know how to pronounce it. But we haven't really had language problems since then. Sam theorizes that there's a function inherent in the DHDs that enable communication. We didn't have one on the first mission. It was missing on Abydos. But all the worlds we've visited since have them. Usually if there's a subject or concept we don't have, we hear the native word. Most of the time, we can just communicate." Blair was one giant question mark, just like Daniel. The difference was that Daniel was part of the team. He had a reason to ask questions.

"Wow! That is so cool! I didn't know we had any kind of technology like--wait a minute. If other people have been coming here before anybody from Earth did, that means we really didn't invent the Gates. We're just using them. Oh, man, that's incredible!"

"You are new to this," Manca Lana said to Blair. "To the travel through the Chapa-ai. But not to our people's customs. You, I think," he continued to O'Neill, "have traveled to many worlds, but do not know of the Inca's people?"

"That's about right," Jack conceded as they approached a huge, spreading building. Like the others here, it was a miracle of engineering, the massive stones perfectly fitted, and no more than two storeys high.

"Then I must caution you to be respectful to the Inca at all times. He is the ruler of our entire world. He is constantly attended by those who would sway him, but he decides on his own. Allow Sandburg to speak to him. Also, do not speak to him directly unless he allows it. He does not often see those from other worlds but, because you are from the First World, he will do so. He is suspicious, but he is also wise." He added thoughtfully, "He is Topec's brother."

The door swung open for them, servants or guards bowing Manca Lana through and eyeing O'Neill and Sandburg suspiciously. They found themselves in a passageway that led to a set of double doors heavily inlaid with gold, each sporting a gigantic rendition of the sun with stylized rays. Blair nodded at it knowingly. Jack had been right about the lighting. Although there were flaming torches set in wall sconces, there were panels here and there in the walls that glowed with a softer, steadier light. Interesting.

Guards sprang to open the doors, and a man standing just inside squinted at them nearsightedly, then turned to face the room. "The Shaman Manca Lana, sire. Also, the alien shaman and a soldier from the First World."

"They may enter."

The Inca sat on an elaborately carved bench on a raised platform at the far end of a huge room littered with courtiers, priests, and servants. A trestle table ran along one wall with the remains of a meal being surreptitiously cleared away by servants so as not to disturb their ruler. The Inca himself bore a striking resemblance to Topec, who stood at his right hand. His hair was longer than his brother's and straight, held back from his face by a golden circlet that might have designated his rank. His clothing looked like fine linen, a tunic that hung in neat folds and probably would drape to his knees when he stood. Topec, in more serviceable fabric, leaned down and said something in his ear. It wasn't until then that he turned and looked across the hall. He lifted a hand and beckoned. Other than several of the servants, there were no women in the room.

"Are we supposed to bow or anything?" Jack asked Sandburg out of the corner of his mouth.

"Just bow your head. If that's not enough, we should be able to tell by the way they react. This guy's a big shot. We have to be respectful." He fell silent when Manca Lana nudged him hastily in the side.

Stopping before the platform, O'Neill copied Sandburg's head bobbing. No one acted offended. Actually, the Inca appeared rather pleased that they had done it. A point for Sandburg.

"So, Manca, you bring the First World shaman to me. And who is this other man?"

"He is the leader of his band, Inca. He would not let his man come unattended. He is called O'Neill. The shaman is Blair Sandburg. Their custom accepts either name."

"So. That is wise. The leader may stay. You. Shaman of the First World. You have come with tools to harm my brother, Topec. Is this correct?" He nodded at the man at his side. If they were not twins, there could be no more than a year between them.

"Not to harm him, Inca," Blair defended himself. He sounded nervous but that didn't stop him from answering firmly. "The people of O'Neill's command sought me out because they did not want to harm him. They came in secrecy so we could rescue our own people and leave without doing permanent damage. Your Sentinel knows that what I used did not harm him."

Topec again spoke in his brother's ear, the words inaudible.

"The guardians of your cell listened to your conversation," the Inca said. "Perhaps you knew they would do this and you lied for them, but Topec and Manca Lana do not believe you lied. Yet you have as one of your team a Jaffa. This indicates you are liars who ally with the evil Goa'uld."

"May I speak?" Jack ventured. The Inca's comment left an opening for conversation but maybe only Blair was approved.

The Inca gestured for a tall man with a huge hooked nose who stood opposite Topec. Clad in red ceremonial robes and glittering with gold jewelry, the man glided closer, sneering at O'Neill. Whoever this character was, he was not an ally.

The Inca smiled gently. "He is respectful, Cuzo. You said they would not be. He asks my permission to speak."

"He has, no doubt, been coached by the Shaman." From the way his lip curled on the last word, O'Neill got the idea that he considered Manca Lana's position as primitive and unimportant in the overall scheme of the world's religion, although he wouldn't come right out and say so.

"Do not mock my brother's companion, Cuzo. The position of Sentinel is as vital to our people as that of High Priest, and it cannot be revoked for political gain. You would, I think, do well to remember that," he concluded gently, but Jack heard the implied threat in the words. So did Cuzo. He bowed and backed away a step before continuing.

"A Sentinel is human--and a shaman is but a servant to him. Where is the worthiness of this?" His sneer expanded to include Blair, who bristled like a bantam rooster and tried to stand three inches taller than he really was.

"You may speak," the Inca told O'Neill.

"The Jaffa who is a part of my team has renounced the Goa'uld. They enslaved his people and stole others from many worlds, and he could no longer tolerate this. He rescued me and the others of my team and many innocent victims of the Goa'uld, and I took him with me from his homeworld to join my team. To free his people, he has accepted a voluntary exile from his home and family. He is an honorable man and I would trust him with my life, my sanity, and my soul." He hoped that didn't sound as pompous as he thought it did, but it was true and needed to be said.

"Besides," added Blair, "every member of a race of people is not identical. Otherwise, Cuzo could not offer disagreement to you, my lord Inca."

"A wise point." The Inca beamed, and Jack had to hold back a smile at the disgruntled expression on Cuzo's face. The priest looked as if he had swallowed something indigestible. Beside Jack, Manca Lana gave a smothered snort to hold back a laugh, and Topec's eyes danced with amusement.

"Tell me directly to my face why you have come to the Second World," the Inca told Blair. "I warn you, I will sense a lie."

"I came because I heard you had Sentinels here and I wanted to learn more. I don't have the training that Manca Lana received to work with Topec, and there is a lot I just don't know. I don't want to risk my Sentinel. He's my friend, and we got in a lot of trouble recently because I didn't have any idea what would happen if two Sentinels were to come face to face. My friend Daniel is on the Colonel's team and knew about my work. They asked me to come because they wanted to find a way past Topec without harming him. All they want is to rescue their original team."

"Could they have lied to you, young servant?" Cuzo insinuated slyly, propping his fingertips together and peering at Blair over them.

O'Neill could tell Sandburg didn't like the 'servant' part but he was careful not to react to it. "I don't think so. Because I know Daniel, and he's as honest a guy as you can get. I know they didn't tell me everything, but your own military people don't tell their business to civilians, either, I bet."

Jack raised his hand like a student in a classroom. The Inca was more inclined to listen than Cuzo was. The final decision might be his but the priests were sure to have influence. There were half a dozen richly dressed characters lurking around the edge of the platform who might be wealthy merchants or the nobility or whoever were the power brokers here. Sycophants. They would have their two cents to toss in, too. So if talking without permission was a bad thing, Jack would just have to play along. He wished he had Daniel at his side because he was used to working with Daniel and trusted him, and he didn't know Blair well enough to guess how he'd handle a crisis.

"You may speak," the Inca told O'Neill, lifting an eyebrow at Cuzo.

"Sandburg is right. We didn't give him the history of our journeys through the Stargate or much background. We recruited him for this one mission because we needed someone who knew about Sentinels."

"It was not enough." The speaker was the man they'd earlier thought was the chief of the 'tribe'. O'Neill realized he must be in charge of the local militia or the army. He held a ceremonial spear decorated with feathers and totems. "We removed the device which opens the Chapa-ai and awaited you. It was far too easy. You are either complacent or foolish."

"Or desperate to rescue our friends." O'Neill didn't think he needed permission to speak to the 'general'. "You're a military man. Would you leave some of your own people prisoner if you could rescue them? If you could go after the Goa'uld and bring back your people, wouldn't you take the risk? The men in SG-4, the ones we came to rescue, they're friends of mine, they're part of the team. Even if it meant taking crazy risks, we had to come after them. We came with stealth because we had no wish to kill your people. I could have brought an army with me. I didn't."

"No, because it might have been easier to come in stealth, to use technology tools to defeat the Sentinel and creep in the night to rescue your friends." The 'general' frowned. "His words may be taken that way, Inca."

"True, but not even the first men tried to harm us," the Inca replied. "Topec assures me he was not hurt, simply made slightly uncomfortable by the machine that blocked his hearing. Had your troops not awaited the strangers, they could have passed him and come to free their friends. They would not have found it possible, but they could not know from the battlefield that we were not primitive and helpless."

Jack waved his hand again and the Inca nodded at him. "We came this way because of the battlefield we saw," he explained. "We thought somebody who's been fighting a war might be touchy about strangers. We didn't see enough the first time for Daniel to identify your people and your culture."

"If they had, they'd have done it differently," Blair put in. "Daniel and I know a little of your customs, even if things have changed since you were brought here from the First World. Jack's people would have sent a delegation if they'd realized you were the people of the Inca."

Jack knew Daniel well enough to realize he'd have probably urged just that. General Hammond would have gone along with it, too, if he'd believed they stood a chance. He'd have sent a diplomatic team through the Stargate and negotiated. Daniel had suspected the people here had an Andean-based culture, but he hadn't known more.

"You believe we would rate a delegation?" the Inca asked whimsically.

Blair's head bobbed energetically, and Jack was glad he'd bound back his hair instead of leaving it loose. "Yes. Because O'Neill's people are explorers. When they come through the Chapa-ai, they don't know what they're going to find." He slanted a quick, questioning glance at the Colonel to make sure he was on the money, and Jack had to give him credit for that. His mind was probably going as fast as Daniel's when he was reasoning something out. Using the term 'chapa-ai' impressed the Inca, too. "I think SG-4, the first team, walked into trouble because of your battle. When they didn't come back, O'Neill's team was sent to investigate, and when they saw the Sentinel, they sent for me. If I screwed up--uh, did it wrong--it was because I'm new to all this. It's not O'Neill's fault. I just wanted to find out about Sentinels. My own Sentinel, Jim, and I are learning about it together. So I came through the Chapa-ai with O'Neill's team."

"In order to protect your Sentinel better?" Topec asked, smiling benignly at Blair. At least Sandburg had the local Sentinel on his side. Maybe bringing him hadn't been such a screw-up after all. At least he'd gotten them an audience with the Inca.

Blair nodded enthusiastically. "He helps to protect me," he added. "He says I'm a trouble magnet. Maybe I am. But I have to watch out for him, too, because he can zone out--uh, I don't know what you call that. When he concentrates so hard he loses himself in it."

"We, too, have that danger," Topec admitted. "We call it a sensory trance. As he learns more, he will learn to focus with less risk of it. You and I will talk privately, with Manca. When my brother the Inca permits it," he added with a bow in that direction.

Jack thought that was all very well for Sandburg, but it wasn't getting him anywhere. He put up his hand again. The wealthy guys who had been hanging around all turned to look at him, like spectators at a tennis match. Their smooth, impassive faces didn't give him a clue what they thought.

"Speak, O'Neill, and speak freely," the Inca bade him.

O'Neill was no diplomat, but he'd had to learn since heading up SG-1. "Inca, my people and yours share a common enemy, the Goa'uld. One of the reasons we go through the Stargate is to seek out allies against them."

"Your technology outshines ours," the Inca reminded him. "What have we to offer to such as you?"

Daniel would have been better at this. At least he knew what the Incas were like. "It doesn't have to be technology," he said. "We've made allies--and friends--of people with far less technology before. We don't come to take, but to share. We might have ways to help you. We have teams who can negotiate for our people. We could send back a team to you and work out a treaty."

"So I should let you all go back to the First World and leave the chapa-ai open? General Camec will tell me I am a fool, that you will send armies. High Priest Cuzo will claim that I will risk the People of the Sun. My advisors--" he gestured at the wealthy men who clustered around-- "will claim that I ignore the possibility of trade with a race of powerful beings. And I, myself, wish very much to see the First World and meet any of my people who remain there. So, as you see, simple answers are not easy to come by. And I am also a man who is grateful that you planned carefully to bypass my brother without harming him."

"Maybe it can't be worked out in a minute," Blair replied. "But I'd go with the negotiators. Times have changed on the First World. The Incans are now part of Peru, a modern country, and many of your people's ancient sites are but ruins. I've visited some of them. But the Incans are not forgotten. Every child learns of the people of the Inca in school."

"He's right," Jack agreed. "I'm not a scholar or a scientist, Inca. I'm a soldier. But even I learned of the Incas in school. My people, those of us who know of the Stargate, will be thrilled."

"We have much to learn from you," Blair agreed. "And much to teach. Isn't the best kind of partnership when both sides have something to offer? It's like Jim and me. I learn so much from him; I'm learning all the time. And I'm teaching him, too, how to control his senses, how to make the most of his abilities. Topec and Manca Lana will probably tell you what it's like." He glanced up at the two who stood on the dais beside the Inca. Both men nodded.

"You are a negotiator yourself, as well as a shaman," the Inca decided. "Both of you are. O'Neill. Your missing people are not dead. They may go home. I will send them now. They will tell your people that you and your team are to follow."

"Inca, you mean to believe them?" demanded Cuzo, eyebrows crawling up his forehead in irritation.

"Yes, I do. Because a Sentinel knows a shaman. Topec told me this man was honorable, and his people, too. I do not think, as the General does, that they came in stealth because it was easier for them. I believe they genuinely did not wish to harm us. Also, they are a powerful race. Their weapons prove this. They never saw our city and did not know how impregnable it was, so they would not have known an armed assault would be long and arduous and might well fail. They have offered us friendship and trade, and these are good things in a universe where the enemy is very powerful. We have not been safe here. Even in our city, we are vulnerable to the Goa'uld. Perhaps these from the First World would help make us less so. General. You are to take the men they call SG-4 back to the Chapa-ai and send them home. They will tell their people, their General Ham-mond to send a diplomatic team of negotiators to us." Jack wondered where he'd picked up Hammond's name, whether SG-4 had said something or whether they'd eavesdropped enough to pick it up. "As good faith, I will send back the Jaffa as well, and the woman. The other man, Daniel, knows of my people. He will remain with the shaman, until the negotiators come. They will talk with Topec and myself." He turned to Jack. "So you see, O'Neill, you must be quick and honest and do as you have offered."

"You mean to hold Daniel and Sandburg hostage?" Jack asked quickly. He hated that, although he was pretty sure Daniel would be delighted. Blair looked thrilled at the idea.

"No, not as hostage. As proof that you are what you claim. While I believe you, I am not simply a man. I am the living representative of the Sun, and the protector of my people. So the Shaman and the one called Daniel will remain until your negotiators come. That is all." He gestured Blair to step up onto the platform beside him.

"It's cool, Colonel," Blair said quickly. "I want to talk to them anyway. Just tell Jim I'm all right and I'll be back soon. He's probably climbing the walls by now." He grinned. "He's not a patient man."

Jack, who wasn't particularly patient himself, could sympathize. "Fine," he said to the Inca. "If they stay, so do I, because this is my mission, and I won't leave any of my people behind. The rest of my team will arrange for the negotiators."

"Now that I have spoken with you, I expected no less," agreed the Inca.

When he was escorted back to his team, Daniel was already gone. Sam flew at him in alarm. "Colonel, armed guards took Daniel away and wouldn't say why. Are you all right? Where's Blair? What's going on?"

"They're sending you, Teal'c and SG-4 back to Earth," O'Neill explained. "The Inca guy, the big shot, goes for what we told him, but his advisors don't all buy it. The ones who think they can clean up on a trade agreement are all for making peace, but the high priest thinks he's gonna lose power over it, and the military guy is pretty hostile. The Inca overruled them."

"That sounds good," said Sam, looking past him for signs of Daniel or Blair. "But why did they take Daniel away?"

"Is Daniel Jackson in trouble?" Teal'c looked as if he meant to walk through the guards at the door to retrieve him.

"I hope not. But the Inca is gonna keep him and Blair until we can send a diplomatic team through to work out a treaty, and I'm going to hang out here just to make sure those two don't get in over their heads."

"Hostages," Teal'c growled. "You cannot permit this, O'Neill."

"I'm not real crazy about it." Jack wondered if he'd get points for understatement. "But from what Daniel and Sandburg have said, there's a lot of politics going on here. The Inca wants a treaty, and I'm pretty sure nobody's gonna hurt them. That's why I'm staying, though, just to keep an eye on them."

Sam let herself be edged toward the door by a couple of warriors armed with spears, but she seemed far from happy about it. "Are they keeping them because they're not military?" she asked.

"No, because they're anthropologists." Jack grimaced. "Sandburg knows all the same kind of stuff Daniel's always spouting. I've gotta say he did good with the Inca." It galled him to admit it but the kid would probably work out well on an SG team. Maybe it might be good to have a Sentinel along, too. Of course that would mean putting up with the long-haired kid on a fairly regular basis. If anything came of it, he and Ellison would have to be part of a new team, and not of SG-1. "It sounds like the only way we can free SG-4 and work out a treaty with this planet. The Goa'uld come here, but so do other races. There's too much to lose if we don't go along."

Sam eyed him knowingly, imagining how much it would have cost him to leave Daniel--and Sandburg--behind while they arranged for a diplomatic team to work out a treaty. It didn't matter that Daniel would probably love every minute of it. He was one of Jack's team, and his best friend. She understood why the Colonel was staying.

Jack insisted on walking them back to the Stargate to make sure they got home as planned. As they left the city behind, they could see another group in the distance ahead of them. It was definitely SG-4. By the time they came down the hill to the Stargate, it was already active and SG-4 were going through. Jack was close enough to see that the four men really were SG-4 and not Incans in their clothes. The DHD was back, and the spearmen waved them toward the event horizon, pausing to hand them back their arms, even Teal'c's staff weapon. General Cuzo approached them. "I do not like this, O'Neill," he told Jack. "You and I, we are fighting men. But the Inca has made his decision."

"Maybe someday we can fight against the real enemy, the Goa'uld," Jack suggested.

"I would enjoy that."

The Colonel shooed Sam and Teal'c toward the gate before him. Damn it, Daniel, Jack thought as he watched Sam and Teal'c vanish into the gate, you better not get yourself into trouble before I get back to you.

Jim Ellison erupted from the wary doze he had fallen into and jerked to his feet as he sensed a presence in the doorway. The sight of Captain Carter alone, without Blair beside her, offered no reassurances and he stormed over to stand in front of the blonde woman. "Where's Sandburg?"

"He's not hurt," Sam said hastily. She didn't look like she was enjoying herself at all, and Jim was glad of that. If anything had happened to Sandburg everybody on this base would be sorry.

"But he's not here. So talk."

Carter gestured him toward the sofa, but he remained stubbornly on his feet. "Go ahead, Captain."

"I can't talk about some of it. You know the mission was classified. All I can tell you is that Blair is still there, and so is Daniel Jackson, and the Colonel stayed to watch their backs. We expect them within a couple of hours." She must have sensed Jim's desire to erupt in all directions at once because he continued, "When I left, he was having the time of his life. Daniel will too. Colonel O'Neill probably won't, but he's used to reining Daniel in, so he can do the same for Blair. Everything worked out peacefully and they're letting us send in negotiators. He's all right."

Jim knew she was as worried about Jackson and O'Neill as Jim was about Sandburg. She was just repeating what she'd been instructed to tell him, instead of giving him genuine information. "What is he doing? Was there really a Sentinel for him to deal with?"

"He's learning about Sentinels, I think," Carter replied, choosing her words carefully. "He'll be able to help you better as a result of it."

"Help me better?" Damn it, she knew what he was. If Sandburg had told her--

"He didn't give you away, Detective Ellison," Sam said reassuringly. "He wouldn't. We knew before we even met you from the information gained in checking your clearance. It wouldn't be obvious to anyone else, and since our missions are classified on a need to know basis, that information will go no further. It won't even go in our reports."

He eyed her suspiciously. "Why not?"

"Because we've run up against a certain military mindset that would take advantage of the fact and use you. We...have no reason to like that side of it, and we choose not to endanger you." She grinned suddenly. "The worst you might have to endure is Daniel showing up for a visit with a notebook full of questions. He's a lot like Sandburg."

Jim groaned. He still wasn't sure he trusted any of these people, and he wouldn't be remotely comfortable until Sandburg was back and they were safe in Cascade. If they'd wanted to use Sandburg once, what would stop them from using him again?

"Blair was a major asset on the mission," Carter continued quickly. "He was the one who got us an audience--uh, a meeting--with the leader. Without him, it might not have been possible."

"Audience?" Jim focused on that one word. People didn't have audiences with terrorists. They had confrontations. "What the hell is going down?"

"You know I can't tell you any more," Carter said regretfully. "If it was possible, I'd explain, but I can't. We couldn't have carried out the mission without Blair. When he comes back, he won't be able to tell you either. He hates that part but he accepts it. It won't be long before you see him again."

Jim wanted to push until she told him the whole story, to insist he be taken to Sandburg, but it wouldn't help. He'd been covert ops long enough to understand he would get no further with his questions. It all came down to waiting for Sandburg's return, and Jim Ellison had never been a very patient man. Stomping down his wild theories--like the possibility that Teal'c was either the result of a top secret biological warfare experiment or an alien from another planet--he gave up his questioning.

She must have sensed that because she smiled, her whole manner easing. "Would you like some dinner, Detective Ellison?"

"With you?" Carter might be as stubborn as he was but she was a very attractive woman. This mission didn't have many fringe benefits but he might as well enjoy the ones offered.

"That could be arranged." Was she laughing at him? No, it was a genuine smile.

"Then arrange it," he urged. "And the name's Jim."

Col. Jack O'Neill propped his shoulders against one of the fitted stone walls--it was cold against his back--and watched Daniel and Sandburg having the time of their lives. Blair knew no secrets to give away and Daniel had learned to watch himself, but there were no security clearances on the subject of what a Sentinel did and how he did it. The questions flew back and forth between the two anthropologists and the local Sentinel and shaman. The subject under discussion wouldn't be Jack's first choice but he got a kick out of seeing Daniel enjoying himself so much.

The Inca was present, too, though he sat a little distance off, a couple of priests and the general hovering around him. He was listening to the conversation with an indulgent smile. If the Sentinel ability was genetic, did that mean he had the potential for it, too? From the quick looks Blair sneaked in his direction, the little guy probably wondered, too. He knew they were here on the Inca's whim, so he was being careful and trying to hold back his eager excitement. It was like watching out for two Daniels.

"My brother is the elder," Topec admitted when Blair finally worked up to asking. "He was destined to become the Inca. I had the ability, so I was trained, along with two other boys who possessed it as well. As we grew, everyone realized I had the greatest ability, so I was given additional training and the other two went to live with distant tribes to continue their education. The old Sentinel was still here, so I was sent to a remote location where I could be trained apart from him."

"What about you?" Blair asked Manca Lana. "Were you trained from when you were a kid, too?"

"Those of us who were not to be Sentinels took lessons with those who were. We study our history since coming to the Second World, knowledge of government, farming, administration, mathematics, contact with people from other worlds, everything my people learn, but we also learned what our people know of alien technology and the threat of the Goa'uld. Topec was also taught to be with other people without falling victim to sensory trances. It was a test to see which of us he felt comfortable with, which of us he could work with best. Topec and I became friends and I was chosen as his Shaman. At that point, I was given additional training to assist a Sentinel, how to guide him through the use of his senses, to coach him in his ability to focus, to learn to read his reactions so I could sense danger. And especially to learn to accept and work with the spirit guides who speak to us."

"I wouldn't mind a little training on that myself," said Blair. "It's all pretty new to me, but I know there's a bond between the Sentinel and Guide. I nearly died recently. I was--well, I was actually dead for a few minutes there. Jim's spirit guide coached him and he brought me back. It was incredible."

Daniel's eyes widened. "You mean he used Sentinel powers to heal you?"

"Not really heal me. The doctors at the hospital wouldn't admit it could have been anything like that. They said the brain was shutting down and I was seeing things because of that. An endorphin thing. But Jim saw the same things I did, and his body wasn't shutting down. It was real. He saw Incacha, who'd been his mentor when he lived in the jungle, even though Incacha is dead now. Incacha told him to bring me back."

"Sort of like having his own personal sarcophagus," Jack interjected.

Daniel turned and glanced at him, frowning. "You mean this Incacha's ghost appeared to you?"

"To Jim," Blair corrected.

"Right." Jack shook his head. This was crazy. "Who you gonna call?" he muttered under his breath.

Daniel ignored that, smothering a smile. "It wouldn't be like the effects of a Goa'uld sarcophagus, Jack. Maybe the bond between Sentinel and Shaman has a psi link. There are huge areas of the brain we don't use. With a Sentinel's heightened senses, he might link into more of the brain than the average person."

"So you're saying a Sentinel is the next evolutionary step or something?" Jack frowned. "I thought only primitive cultures had them. Is this evolutionary regression?"

"Oh, thanks," Blair said wryly, and Manca Lana gave a snort of amused disgust.

"He speaks some truth," offered Topec. "The ability fades with civilization. Which is why I do not, in general, live in the city. I could live here and retain my powers, of course. But in general, the more technology in a society, the less need of Sentinels. Some of the people we encounter through the chapa-ai or who come here in ships have equipment that do the same things I do for my people. Distance viewing equipment, machines that can not only hear far sounds but can measure vibrations in the earth, tools to tell how much moisture is in the air. They do not need Sentinels. We have adapted some of their technology. There is power for lighting here that some prefer and use in their homes." He gestured at the glowing wall panels. "We have better tools to grow our crops, and there is some talk of creating machines to pull wagons and to transport people. That will not come in my time, but it will come. The Inca is wise and knows that our people must make progress slowly so that it will not overwhelm us. That way we can understand what we use. Eventually we can make our own tools."

"That's the best way," Daniel agreed. "Take it slowly, learn what it all means. I lived among people far less advanced than yours for a year. There were things that would have helped us--advanced medical techniques, for one thing. But if you have a choice, make sure you really need the technology. Wanting it simply because it is new isn't enough."

"A wise statement, Daniel Jackson," the Inca said, raising his voice to be heard.

"Perhaps he wishes to retain power by denying us the things he has," purred Cuzo in the Inca's ear.

"I think not. You do not welcome these visitors, Cuzo, when all can see we can learn much from them. I wonder, do you wish to control power among us, to hold onto your own power. Or do you have a hidden agenda I cannot see?"

"Of course not, Inca," Cuzo soothed. "I simply caution wariness. Do not rush into alliances. I am not entirely hostile to these people even if they came among us by stealth and brought with them a Jaffa."

"You don't care for Sentinels," Topec called to the priest. "Because we can do things with our abilities that your magics cannot do."

"We cannot cut the stones like the masons can, either. Yet we do not covet their powers." Cuzo beamed smugly. "If I did not caution the Inca, I would be shirking my responsibility. Because this one is a shaman does not mean they are trustworthy."

"No, but I feel that they are. And so would you, old man, if you would try with an open heart."

"I will try," Cuzo replied, but something about him made Jack uneasy.

A door opened to admit servants with trays of drinks in tall goblets. While one carried a drink to the Inca and passed it to him, others set one before each man at the table. When a glass was offered him, Jack saw it was that same white milky stuff they'd been given with their meal that Daniel had suggested might be fermented goat's milk. "Or the local equivalent of goats," he'd added, sniffing it. Jack thought it tasted like fermented goat piss. He took the glass only because the Inca was watching him, but he resolved not to drink it. No thanks, I'm on a low goat diet.

Blair sipped his, trying to avoid his grimace. Only Teal'c had liked the stuff before. Daniel drank to be polite, watching in disbelief as Manca Lana took a healthy gulp and sighed with pleasure.

"Perhaps it is an acquired taste," he told Blair. "Our people enjoy it."

"Maybe they aren't man enough to drink it," muttered the general.

Jack stiffened, but Daniel shot him a quick, warning glance and shook his head fractionally. Carefully, O'Neill relaxed his muscles. Daniel was right. It didn't do any good to let himself be provoked.

The Sentinel discussion resumed while General Camec talked to the Inca in low tones then headed for the door.

"I have sent him to guard the chapa-ai since Topec is here," the Inca said to Jack. "There are still those on this world who would ally with the Goa'uld. We would watch for them, and also for the arrival of the snake gods themselves."

"Jack, see if you can find out which of the System Lords come here," Daniel suggested. He took another sip of the drink then made a face and pushed the glass a little distance away.

Blair didn't pay attention to that. He didn't know about the System Lords but he wasn't really listening. Flushed with excitement, he was comparing notes with Manca Lana about those zone-outs he'd mentioned before. "...and one time he went in so deep I couldn't get him out of it so I grabbed a glass of water and I threw it in his face. I thought he was ready to murder me, man." He chuckled reminiscently, running his hand across his forehead. He was sweating.

Daniel laughed much more uproariously than the story called for. He slapped Blair on the shoulder. Were they getting drunk on the stuff? That ought to look good to the Inca. Jack started to push himself away from the wall to intervene when Daniel stiffened, a strange expression passing over his face. One hand went to his stomach and he folded over it, landing face-down on the table so hard his glasses went flying. Topec caught them neatly.

O'Neill's stomach tightened. "Daniel!" He sprang to Jackson's side and tried to lift him up. Blair stared at him owlishly, then he gasped as if he'd been gut punched and doubled over, too, all color draining from his face.

"What occurs?" The Inca sprang to his feet. "Are they ill?"

"Perhaps they carry a plague to us," Cuzo suggested, raising his voice in alarm. Fake alarm, Jack decided.

"Maybe somebody drugged them," he challenged, his fingers feeling for the pulse in Daniel's neck.

"You accuse me?" asked the Inca.

Jack hesitated, then he shook his head. "Not you, Inca. You welcomed us here. So did your Sentinel and shaman. Others weren't so keen."

"You appear unharmed," challenged Cuzo.

"Yeah, because I didn't touch my drink. What did you put in it, High Priest? If they die..." He could hear Daniel breathing, a harsh, rasping sound. Damn it, Daniel, don't you go and die on me.

Manca Lana slapped his palm against Sandburg's forehead. "The sweating sickness," he proclaimed, whirling to snatch up the guide's glass and thrust it at Topec. "Examine this, my friend," he urged. "See if the poison lurks inside."

The Sentinel accepted the glass and sniffed it carefully. Rolling the remaining liquid around in the bottom of the goblet, he focused his eyes on it as if he could see it down to the molecular level. He touched it with his fingertip and very carefully brought it to his tongue. A moment later, he spat violently and Manca Lana thrust another glass at him. Rinsing out his mouth with the contents, he spat onto the floor.

"It is the poison! The sweating poison, the one that kills."

Kills? Oh, shit! Jack tightened his grip on Daniel's shoulder. "It better not kill," he ground out, his other hand on Daniel's sweaty forehead. He was writhing uncomfortably under Jack's grip, moaning faintly. Blair, too, was coiled up tight, his breath escaping in little pants while Manca Lana hurried to stand at his side.

"My Inca, it was not me," Cuzo wailed. "I had a much more subtle plan to trap them in their lies, for I was certain they would lie. Poison--pah! It is a game for the weak. Ask your brother to test me if I lie. He will know. True, I have never appreciated the Sentinels but now, I realize I must place myself into Topec's power to exonerate myself."

"Exonerate yourself on your own time," Jack snarled. "Is there an antidote for this poison?"

"I have it," Manca Lana had already pulled a pouch attached to a thong from around his neck and was shaking powder from it into two clean mugs. A man raced up with a jug and poured water from it into the mugs. "Topec?" asked the guide, holding them out.

At once the Sentinel picked up each glass and sniffed them, running his tests all over again. It seemed to take an hour but Jack knew it was probably less than a minute before he lifted his head and nodded. "It is pure."

The Inca gestured for two men to hold Cuzo, who stood, haughty and proud, in their restraint, head high. Jack cast the priest a resentful glare, then turned back to Daniel and Sandburg. "Hold his mouth open," encouraged Manca Lana, scooping up the nearer of the glasses and pressing it against Daniel's mouth. It clattered against his clenched teeth.

"Daniel, you have to drink," Jack urged. "It's an antidote. You need it. Open your mouth, Daniel."

The helpless writhing continued for another moment, then Daniel's head tilted in a listening attitude. "Ja-ack?" he faltered. "It hurts.... It burns...." He bucked up against Jack's hands, almost sending the glass flying.

"Daniel, open your mouth," Jack barked desperately.

Trusting and obedient, Daniel obeyed, shivering in spite of the sweat that matted his hair against his forehead. When the glass was pressed up against his mouth again he sputtered and tried to turn away.

"Daniel, if you don't drink it, I'm going to hold your mouth open and pour it down your throat! It's an order, dammnit."

"I don't..." His voice trailed off, hands clenched across his middle, tears of pain blurring the blue eyes as he squinted dazedly at O'Neill.

At Blair's side, Topec used another method. "Shaman, I call upon your animal spirit to tell you what I mean to do. You must trust me, spirit of the wolf. Listen. Hear my voice." Blair's head came up and he stared at Topec, awe fighting the stabbing pain reflected in his eyes. Struggling to overcome it, he opened his mouth obediently and took the liquid in.

"You have to drink it." Jack tipped the glass, spilling the liquid into Daniel's mouth. When Jackson would have spit it out, too confused and agonized to understand, Jack forced his mouth closed and pinched his nostrils shut. Daniel swallowed wildly and fought to breathe. When he was sure the liquid had gone down, Jack lifted his hands, and Daniel coughed and sputtered but didn't bring any of it back up.

"Very good, O'Neill," Manca Lana praised. "Now, we will see if it is enough and in time. He will convulse. You must hold him to keep him from injuring himself. Watch Topec and copy him."

Jack turned. The Sentinel seated himself on the floor, positioning Sandburg in front of him, between his spread legs, facing away from him then pulled the long-haired man back against his chest, wrapping his arms around the man, one across his shoulders, one around his stomach. A guard took hold of Blair's ankles. Several men helped Jack position Daniel in the same way and held his feet. Poison must be common here if everybody knew the treatment. Nice folks, Jack thought bitterly.

Daniel was no sooner in place than the first convulsion ripped through his body. He arched back against O'Neill, twisting and contorting with a force that nearly threw him from the Colonel's grip. His head hit Jack's chin causing him to see stars and, as it forced his bottom lip hard against his teeth, to fill his mouth with blood. He turned his head to spit it out then shifted the grip across Daniel's shoulders and caught him by the forehead, holding him steady as he fought the thrashing agony of the reaction. The worst part about the whole thing wasn't the force of the paroxysms that racked his body. It was the realization that Daniel was conscious and aware of the incredible pain that made him heave and twist. He kept muttering over and over, "I'm sorry. Jack, I'm sorry."

"Hey," panted O'Neill, fighting the contortions to hold his friend in place, conscious of the heat that burned in Daniel's body. "Not your fault, Danny boy. We'll find out who did it and I promise you he'll pay." He slanted a glare at the High Priest, who shook his head in denial, something akin to pity upon his usually-sneering face.

Nearby, Topec murmured in Sandburg's ear. The younger man jerked and spasmed as much as Daniel did, but Topec babbled about wolf spirits and for Blair to let go and allow the spirit to guide him. Sandburg's face was distorted with pain, but he was clearly listening, then focusing in on something inside himself. "Jim!" he gasped, writhing helplessly. "Where are you, Jim?"

Setting aside his fork as he finished the last of his pie, Jim Ellison ventured a smile at Samantha Carter. They had progressed to first names over the course of the meal. If Sandburg weren't still missing, Jim would be feeling pretty good. But he kept slamming up against the wall of Sam's secrecy. She'd had food brought to the waiting room rather than allowing him to go any further. Every time he tried to work the conversation around to--

The pain hit him hard in the stomach, so fierce and agonizing that he blurted out a stunned cry before he could repress it, his hands pressing tightly across his middle to contain the torment. Jumping to her feetm Sam stared at him in alarm,. "Jim? What's wrong?"

As she asked the question, the waiting room blurred away from him and a shadowy jungle closed around him. Out of the mist that hovered between the trees, a wolf padded up to him, then collapsed on the ground, spasming with pain. Beyond it, watching him, stood Incacha, holding his hand toward Jim, palm outward. "Help him," he whispered. "You know the way."

The scene at the fountain stood sharp and clear in Jim's memory, Blair sprawled unresponsive, wet hair spread out in limp tendrils. That time, he had been dead, trapped in a dark place from which only Jim could save him. But now Sandburg wasn't even here. How could Jim help him if he couldn't reach him?

He is no further away than your own mind and heart.

The words wafted across the pressing fronds of the jungle as the jaguar spirit ran toward him through the trailing branches, leaped for his chest. Jim closed his eyes and felt the spirit take him. He remembered Blair's eager excitement in the hospital that their visions had been the same. Maybe distance didn't matter. Maybe the bond between Sentinel and Shaman could reach across the distance to Sandburg, wherever he was now.

The wolf shuddered with convulsions, but its head lifted as if it had sensed the jaguar spirit nearby. Jim leaped for it, merged with it, and, for a second, felt the explosion of pain that throbbed in Blair's body. Then it was spreading, disseminating, fading between the two of them as it began to disperse. He could feel the spasms ease....

Abruptly, the vision ceased and Jim blinked up dazedly at Sam from the couch. She hovered over him in alarm, a second woman professionally taking Jim's pulse. "He's back, Captain Carter," she said. Jim didn't know how long he'd been trapped in the vision, but it must have been long enough for Sam to summon help.

"What's wrong with him, Janet?"

"As far as I can tell without a much more thorough examination, nothing. Heartbeat, respiration, blood pressure, are returning to normal."

"But he was in great pain."

Janet lifted the stethoscope from Jim's chest. "This may sound crazy, but I am almost positive he was reacting to an external source of pain."

"He kept talking to Sandburg." Sam's face was doubtful. "Telling him to let the pain go, that he was all right." Jim didn't remember speaking; in the vision, words had not been necessary. Weird that he'd spoken them aloud.

"But Sandburg is...." Her voice trailed off.

"Where is he?" Jim's hand shot out and grasped the doctor's wrist. "Where's Sandburg? What happened to him?"

"I have a feeling you might know more about what happened to him than we do," Sam said gently. "Can you tell that he will be all right?"

Jim closed his eyes a moment in fierce concentration, then he felt a smile begin. "I don't understand it any better than you do, but yeah. Sandburg will be all right."

"What about Colonel O'Neill and Daniel?" Sam asked, her brow wrinkled with concern. "Can you tell anything about them?"

Jim concentrated. Already the vision had faded and he couldn't even sense Sandburg any longer except at such a subliminal level he wasn't sure if it was real. "No, I'm sorry," he said, sitting up. The doctor let him, a hand at his shoulder. "I can't tell. But I think Sandburg was poisoned."

Alarm flared through both women. "What do we do?" Janet asked.

"I'll talk to General Hammond. I think we should go after them," Sam decided. "I'll go now. Jim, you wait here with Dr. Frasier." She gave Jim a doubtful, uneasy smile and left the room.

"And now, Detective Ellison," Dr. Frasier said, "I want to check you out and make sure you aren't suffering any aftereffects to that amazing link. I'd like to take a blood sample just to be safe."

It might help Sandburg. Jim nodded, trying to focus his thoughts on his guide. But the wall in his mind spoke of a distance too incredibly vast to cross now that the crisis had been passed. Blair was on the other side of it, as far as half a galaxy away.

Maybe, whispered the remnants of the link, deep in his mind, maybe he is.

Daniel twisted and moaned, the pain stabbing through his stomach and radiating outward in pulsing waves. Behind him, Jack held him steady, arms like steel bands as they blocked the worst of the jerking twists that wanted to tear his body apart. Conscious and alert, Daniel could scarcely think past the talons that dug into his gut, but the warmth of Jack at his back and the soothing voice that murmured reassurances in his ear were a better focus for his attention than the pain. He let Jack's words settle into his consciousness and concentrated on them and the grip that controlled the spasms.

"How long does this go on?" Jack demanded hotly of someone Daniel couldn't see.

"They were treated very quickly. Not more than ten minutes." Daniel recognized the voice of Manca Lana. If they can last that long, they should recover."

They? Daniel struggled to turn his head, concentrating with all his strength as alarm fought the pain for dominance. "Jack? D-did you--" His body heaved up in a fresh paroxysm and Jack's arms tightened around him.

"Easy, easy. No, I hate that stuff, so I didn't drink it. I'm fine, and you're gonna be fine. Just hang on."

"B-blair?" he faltered. He had recruited Blair for this mission; if Sandburg died, he'd be the one Ellison held accountable, but he would hold himself accountable, too. The pain struck again and his thoughts blurred but when the convulsion passed, he tried to see the young guide.

Topec held Blair, much as Jack must be supporting Daniel, using his own body to prevent the tremors from hurting him, his arms wrapped around Sandburg. "He will protect you," Topec chanted soothingly in Blair's ear. "Let the jaguar spirit guide you, son of the wolf."

In spite of the pain that made Blair jerk against the Sentinel's grip, his eyes were wide and awed at the sight of an inner vision. What was it Topec had asked about spirit guides? Could he guide Blair into a spirit realm where he could find a focus other than the pain? Could he even drive the poison from his body through a link like that? Jack wouldn't buy it but--oh, god, that hurt--but Blair was already relaxing. His hair was lank with perspiration and rivulets of sweat ran down his forehead into his eyes. Blair just blinked them away, staring eagerly at a vista only he could see.

"Hang in there, Daniel," Jack spoke in his ear, his voice quiet yet urgent. He sounded as shaken as he had when Daniel had been shot in Klorel's ship and Jack had been forced to leave him behind. "I'm not giving up on you," O'Neill insisted. "We got to you in time. Just ride it out." His hand was cool against Daniel's burning forehead.

The worst of the spasms began to loosen their grip on him and the pain ebbed. He sagged back against O'Neill, only to twist up against one last convulsion. When it passed, he felt himself go limp, suddenly cold in the chill of the vast stone room, yet sweating from every pore.

Jack must have felt his body relax because he demanded, "Daniel?" anxiously. "Come on, Danny, you can do it. Don't fade out on me now."

"I'm...here, Jack." It took an effort to speak. He was utterly exhausted; he felt like he'd been hiking up a mountain for a year without pause to eat or drink, a raging thirst burning in his throat, a frantic urge to counter the sour taste in his mouth, but the thought of lifting his head was impossible.

"Quickly, give him water," someone urged, and Jack shifted him slightly sideways so he could rest his head against the older man's shoulder. The glass Jack pressed against his mouth contained water. "Make him sip it slowly," instructed Manca Lana. "Slowly but he can drink it all. His body will crave it to replace what he has lost. When he has drunk, we will bathe him and wrap him in warm clothes."

The water was better than the finest wine Daniel had ever tasted, cool and soothing, a blessing. Beyond the glass, Jack's face swam into focus, his mouth hard and tight, blood on his bottom lip, his eyes shadowed with his concern. "Come on, Daniel, take it slow. Yes, that's good. A little more." He made himself smile. "That'll teach you to drink that goat piss."

"Better than that...rotgut stuff you liked...on P4X 831," Daniel managed, then he sipped greedily again. "What...happened to you?" he asked, making a feeble gesture at Jack's mouth.

O'Neill ran his tongue over his bottom teeth. "You whacked me with the back of your head. Cut the inside of my lip. It's nothing."

"Sorry, Jack." Daniel could imagine how his wild thrashing might have done that. A man came and offered Jack a sip of water to rinse out his mouth. "I'm okay, though...."

Daniel's words made some of Jack's tension leach away and he could feel the rigid muscles of the Colonel's body unbending, although he held himself hard and ready for trouble.

"That was...so wild," Blair burst out behind Daniel, his voice weak but full of excitement. Jack had turned him so he couldn't see Sandburg. "I could...feel Jim in my vision. He knew...I was in trouble. He was there, just like the time I drowned...Oh, man!"

"You had drunk more of the poison than Daniel," Topec explained. "Without the bond with your Sentinel, you could not entirely fight off its effects. He helped you, gave you strength. Now, you are recovering."

"He really mean that mystic mumbo jumbo?" Jack asked in a wary undertone.

"I think he does...mean it, Jack." Another swallow of the water, easing down his throat, cooling the heat that lingered in his stomach. "I wish we could...study it."

"You're not going to study anything until you're on your feet again," Jack chided sternly. "Just drink your water and let us figure out who did this to you."

"Camec," Daniel suggested. "He went away just...before it happened. I don't think he likes any of us."

"Not the high priest?" Jack wondered.

"I told you I am innocent," whined Cuzo in the background. "Even this man does not believe I am the guilty one. Test me, Sentinel. Prove I did not stoop so low."

Manca Lana gave a scornful snort. "You mean not this time?" he muttered under his breath.

Cuzo ignored the shaman's words. As half a dozen women entered the room bearing bowls of water and folded cloths draped across their forearms, Topec rose, leaving Manca Lana with Blair. "While the women bathe Daniel and the First World shaman, I will test the high priest," offered the Sentinel.

Daniel's eyes widened in alarm. "Women bathing me?" he echoed.

"Oh, come on, Daniel," Jack snorted in amusement, "you got bathed on Abydos, didn't you? Live with it. Of course I could take your place if you really wanted me to."

Daniel felt filthy, his clothes chilly and soggy. "No, I think I'll...go for it," he replied. "Sorry, Jack, maybe next time."

He and Blair were efficiently stripped of every stitch of clothing they had on and laid on the cots. Fires burned in braziers beside each to provide warmth as the women moved in, three to bathe him and three for Blair. They were comfortingly matter of fact, and the cool, soothing water eased his aching muscles as well as cleaned his sweaty body. Sandburg looked like he was blushing, but he was grinning too, probably storing up the memory to tell Jim about it. Explaining he'd been bathed by three beautiful women wouldn't violate the mission's security, and he was probably going to capitalize on every moment, although he looked startled when he realized the three women meant to bathe every inch of him. Daniel was a little startled himself, but he made himself concentrate on Topec instead of the practical intimacy of the women's touch.

Satisfied that Daniel was in good hands--literally--Jack watched Topec, too. The Sentinel approached Cuzo and put his hands on either side of the High Priest's face. "Was the poison of your design?"

"Answer," instructed the Inca.

"No, Inca, I did not poison your guests from the First World. I did not trust them as you did, but I believed that, if they were false, their own words and behavior would condemn them. I relied upon my wisdom and the promise if their deviousness. If I was wrong about their intentions, then I am sorry they were made to suffer. But I did not cause it."

Topec was nearly in a trance. Daniel knew the Incas had practiced religious trances but this was a sensory trance, sight, hearing, smell and touch focused upon the high priest. Lie detector tests could be confounded by those who knew how to respond to them, but this went far deeper. It was as if Topec could put together the clues from his senses and use them to penetrate still deeper, into the very soul. No wonder Blair was fascinated by his field of study. Fending off the bathing women, he propped himself up weakly on his elbows, staring with wide, awed eyes.

Then Topec stepped back, freeing Cuzo. "He is innocent, my brother," he said. "I can sense duplicity in him, but not over this. He resents the First World people, but he would not harm them physically. He did not order the poison. And none of his people would do it on their own initiative."

"Send for General Camec," the Inca commanded tightly. "Guards. Take many men. Secure him. If he has done this thing, I will depose him."

Jack frowned. "Sandburg?"

The long-haired man raised weary eyes. "Colonel?"

"You know this Sentinel stuff. Is all this for real? Not just something they've staged for our benefit?" He glanced over at the Inca. "Not to doubt but I want to be sure."

The Inca took no offense. "You are wise, O'Neill. I, too, am angry about what has happened. It was against my command and I mean to take strong action. I want peace with your people."

Sandburg nodded. "The Sentinel stuff is true, Colonel. I may not know as much about it as these people do, but I understand what just went down."

"Besides, the Incas on the 'First World' were highly political, Jack," Daniel pointed out around a capacious yawn. He knuckled his eyes before continuing. "You won't find everybody here holding the same views--but you wouldn't back home. I think the negotiation team should be able to work out an agreement."

Jack turned to the Inca and raised his hand to speak. When the ruler nodded, Jack continued, "I'm grateful to your people for their help with my team." He nodded to the two men on the cots. "When my people come, they will see what kind of treaty we can work out. We do have a common enemy, and I don't just mean General Camec."

"The more of us who ally against the Goa'uld, the better," added Daniel.

Blair had been watching Topec and Manca Lana, but now he sagged back as the women began to rub him with towels. Daniel realized his own women were toweling him with equal vigor--it did wonders for the chill in his bones. A few minutes later he was put into a linen tunic and leggings, cloth slippers embroidered in reds and greens onto his feet. Seeing that they were finished, Jack grabbed his glasses from the table and passed them to Daniel to put on.

"I like your tailor," O'Neill teased, his eyes full of relief at Daniel's recovery.

"That is so cool," Blair remarked, snatching up a handful of fabric to study it. He let it go immediately. "Whoa. I've got as much energy as a pair of dirty socks." Daniel understood the feeling perfectly.

"Energy will quickly return," promised Manca Lana. "Now, you must sleep."

Daniel wanted to wait for the General's return to see if he were the guilty party, but the very mention of sleep made it imperative. "Gonna take a nap, Jack," he muttered and closed his eyes.

"So Camec did poison us?" Blair Sandburg demanded, gazing up at Col. O'Neill. They were still in the same room but the Inca had gone away while Blair and Daniel were sleeping, and had not yet returned. A couple of the inevitable guards stood over by the door and the Second World Shaman, Manca Lana sat cross-legged atop the table nearby, listening but not speaking.

"That's what they tell us," O'Neill replied. He dropped down next to Daniel on the pallet; Daniel had tried to sit up and was leaning back against the wall in the boneless attitude of exhaustion. The Colonel looked like he wanted to break things. "Turns out he was the one who snatched SG-4 in the first place. They told him they were here to make peaceful contact but he wouldn't listen. He'd just had a good battle and he was gung ho for more. When he realized we were from the 'First World' all he wanted was to take over the Stargate and then the rest of Earth."

"Apparently their legends say the First World had streets paved of gold, and that even plates and cups were made of gold," Daniel explained. "Sounds like the PR the Conquistadores pushed to try to find the 'lost cities' in the jungle. General Camec had one plan in mind. He wanted to conquer the First World."

"Course we know they couldn't," Jack put in. "We can..." He slanted a quick, measuring look at Blair. "We can block the Stargate, never mind how. Even if he had managed to bring troops through--"

"He'd have had to fight with all the military stationed at NORAD," Blair realized. "He wouldn't have had a hope, and he'd be nowhere near the ruined cities of the Incas anyway."

"Delusions of glory," Jack finished. "He admitted poisoning us. He wanted to prove that his people could stand up to us, to show the Incas that we were just ordinary people who could die, that we weren't Gods or Goa'uld."

"Nobody ever doubted that," said Daniel.

"The negotiation team just came through the stargate," Jack admitted. "I came to see if you two were ready to go home."

Sam appeared in the doorway with Teal'c behind her. "Are you all right?" she asked. "We came with the negotiation team to guide them to the city." She hurried over to Daniel and put her hand on his forehead. "You look terrible."

"The scary thing is that I probably look better than I feel," Daniel returned, sketching a reassuring grin in her direction. "But it's a lot better than it was."

Teal'c followed her. "Were you injured, Daniel Jackson? Ellison claimed that Blair Sandburg had been poisoned. Were you poisoned as well?"

"Jim knew I was poisoned?" Blair erupted off the cot, staggering as a wave of weakness flooded him. The Jaffa caught him effortlessly and put him back on the cot.

"Easy, easy," Manca Lana soothed. "Of course he knew."

"But he's light years from here."

Maybe Manca Lana didn't know what a light year was, but he understood. "He is your Sentinel. Your spirit and his can speak on the supernatural plane, and it exists in an inner dimension that time and space cannot touch."

"Here we go again with that mystic stuff," groaned O'Neill.

"Sir, we've seen so many unlikely things since we first went through the Stargate that this is just one more of them." Sam lifted her hand from Daniel's forehead and smiled down at him. Jack pushed himself to his feet. "Dr. Frasier said it was obvious that when Jim collapsed he was reacting to an external stimulus."

"Jim collapsed?" screeched Blair, struggling to stand again, although Teal'c kept a hand on his shoulder to restrain him. "Is he okay?"

"He's fine. He's climbing the walls, that's all."

Blair's mind was boggled. Jim might be reluctant to take that step, to involve himself in the psychic elements of being a Sentinel, when the chips were down, he hadn't hesitated. A wide grin spread across Sandburg's face. He couldn't wait to get home and talk to Jim about it. Then his face fell. "That part's not classified, is it, Colonel?"

O'Neill grimaced. "What's classified is where you've been and who you talked to. I don't think we're gonna be able to classify this supernatural stuff." He hummed a few bars of the Twilight Zone theme.

"It's not 'supernatural, Colonel," Blair objected. "It's genetic, biological. It's natural for a Sentinel and a shaman, isn't it, Manca Lana?"

"It is indeed," the other shaman agreed.

"Sir, the negotiation team is meeting with the Inca now," Sam said. "And General Hammond wants SG-1 to come home."

"I think we'll have to carry these two to the Stargate," Jack said, dropping a hand on Daniel's shoulder. "They'll be fine, but they're pretty much wrung out. Daniel, I swear, if there's trouble to find, you find it."

"Me?" Daniel challenged. "I seem to remember you had your share of it, too. Breaking your leg in Antarctica, getting that arrow through you when you were just standing there...." He grinned. "Want me to go on?"

"You're both human pincushions," Sam said, smiling at them fondly.

"What is a pincushion?" Teal'c demanded dryly.

O'Neill stood in the corner of the sickbay watching Frasier fuss over Daniel, then turn and fuss over Sandburg. What was it about women that made them react that way to injured men? Not that either anthropologist was injured, but both had been dehydrated from the poison and were now hooked up to IV's. Heavy lidded, they fought sleep, their faces weary. They were talking psychic links, Daniel as excited about it as Blair was. In a few minutes, the doc would probably insist they rest.

Sam led Jim Ellison into the room. "I thought he didn't have clearance for this level," Jack challenged.

"General Hammond said I could bring him down as long as I stayed with him every step of the way and took him up again as soon as he was done," Carter explained. The General was happy with the outcome of the mission. SG-4 was intact and SG-1 had managed to make a new ally, one who not only opposed the Goa'uld but who had contact with other alien races more powerful than themselves. Good things could come of the mission. Jack shrugged. Ellison was under guard and Sandburg knew very well exactly how much he could share with his friend.

Ellison didn't listen to Sam or even glance in Jack's direction. He had spotted Sandburg.

"Hey, Jim," Blair crowed, waving him over. "We had another of those double visions, didn't we?"

"I don't know what it is with you, Sandburg. You are definitely a trouble magnet. How the hell did you manage to get poisoned?" He dropped a hand on Sandburg's shoulder, squeezed lightly, and let go, his face intent with concentration. Remembering a similar expression on Topec's face when he scoped out the poison in the glasses, O'Neill realized he was using his Sentinel senses to check out his shaman. It was obvious when he realized Sandburg was on the road to recovery. That faraway look faded and he grinned.

"Power struggle, Jim," Sandburg responded. "We just happened to get in the way. The 'general' there kind of wanted to take over the whole world." He slanted a quick glance at O'Neill. Never mind which world he was talking about. "Anyway, they caught him and he's out of power now."

"Sandburg, these people think they know about me," Ellison muttered under his breath.

"I didn't tell them, Jim," the younger man defended himself in an urgent undertone. "You know I wouldn't give you away. They already knew. I swear it."

"We did." O'Neill raised his voice. "The evidence leaned pretty heavily in that direction. It's not going any further than this room. Nobody's going to turn you into a guinea pig in a lab, Ellison."

The detective looked doubtful, but he didn't try to disagree. He probably wasn't comfortable with disclosure, even among people who had promised silence. Instead he turned back to Sandburg. "Did you see your other Sentinel, Chief?"

"Oh, man! I sure did. Jim, it was incredible. The things he could do--he says you'll be able to do them, too. They have the spirit guides just like--well, they have them, Jim. It was wild. He could see the poison in the glass and tell what it was! That's how they saved us, because he knew in time to give the antidote."

"The antidote needed instant administration," Dr. Frasier added. "The Colonel brought back a sample of the poison and I've run tests on it. It's a compound that I haven't seen before..." Her voice trailed off as she realized she couldn't mention an off-world source. "Much more of a delay and the antidote wouldn't have come in time. Apparently the Sentinel and his Shaman, who carried medications with him, were able to administer it so quickly that there will be no aftereffects. By this time tomorrow, Daniel and Blair will be ready for discharge."

Jack and Ellison exchanged a glance, both of them acknowledging in that moment how close it had been for their friends. Relief flashed in two pairs of eyes.

"So, in spite of the poison thing, the mission went well?" Ellison asked. "Did you get to use your techy stuff to get past the Sentinel wherever you went, Chief?"

"It would have worked," Blair said instantly. "The Sentinel even said it did. But I didn't need it. It was so great. When we get home, I've got all sorts of ideas for tests to see if you can manage what that Sentinel can. I wish I could tell you all about it, but I can't. They say I can tell you about the kind of things the Sentinel does, and what his Shaman does, and that's it. But I have to watch what I say."

"Otherwise we'd have to kill him," O'Neill put in wryly, winning amused grins from Sam and Daniel and a quizzical lift of Teal'c's eyebrow.

Blair chuckled. "And that wouldn't be great. I can tell you about the women who gave me a bath though. Three of them, Jim, and every one was beautiful." He gave his friend a wicked grin.

Ellison grimaced. "Why doesn't that surprise me? I should have known you'd find women wherever it was."

"It's okay, Jim. All I can say is that I hope these people need a shaman again one day. I'd volunteer in a minute. After all, I'm the shaman of the great city."

"I thought you were the 'son of the wolf'," Daniel put in.

"Well, that, too." He grinned up at Jim.

Sam smiled at them. O'Neill caught Daniel's eye. Jackson grinned at him, enjoying the mood in the room. "Let's all do this again, some day," he said.

"I've got a better idea," Jack retaliated as Dr. Frasier intervened to end visiting hours. "Let's not--and say we did."

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