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 ma