• SPOILERS :Heavy spoilers for Prodigy, minor spoilers for Stargate The Movie, Crystal Skull, Small Victories, Nemesis, Upgrades, Watergate, The First Ones, Point of No Return, Tangent, Serpent's Venom, The Light, foreshadowing of Enemies and Beast of Burden
• SUMMARY: Missing Scenes/Tag to Prodigy, The Prodigy Challenge posted to the HC list last spring
• PG [A] [Hc] [M]

"Where would you like me to put this, Doctor Jackson?"

Startled at hearing Sergeant Siler's question, Daniel lifted his head from cradled hands and blindly fumbled around on the cluttered desk for his glasses. Locating them and slipping them on, he blinked several times trying to focus his vision and his muddled thoughts. He must have dozed off he told himself as his vision cleared. The "this" the sergeant alluded to, was a rather large crated box sitting on a four wheeled dolly.

"Um, Sergeant, what is it exactly?" Daniel asked, puzzled, peering over the top of haphazardly piled reference books precariously balanced on one corner of his desk and in direct line of view to where the maintenance technician stood in the open doorway.

"The artifacts brought back by SG-8 from," the spectacled sergeant glanced down to his clip board, " that would be P1X-857, sir."

"Great, more artifacts," Daniel mumbled with little enthusiasm, as he surveyed his very cluttered office/lab. 

Immediately, he silently scolded himself. Better not let Jack ever hear he had just said that, and in that tone of voice. The colonel would tease him without mercy. Daniel Jackson bemoaning the fact he had more artifacts to play with. Still, Daniel sighed with resignation, he could swear some of these alien artifacts were reproducing when he wasn't looking. There was not an empty space to be had in his lab. In fact, Daniel was beginning to think of his office as his own modern version of King Tutenkamanen's tomb. Here, centuries from now, his mummified body would be discovered sitting at his desk, surrounded by all these odd things, obviously his most prized possessions, entombed here with him to ensure his successful journey to the afterlife.

"Doctor Jackson, sir?"

The pleading tone roused Daniel from his wandering thoughts and he forced himself to stand. "Ahh, right, Sergeant. Sorry. Well, um I suggest you leave it right there. That appears to be the only clear spot available." Daniel waved weakly at the sergeant's position.

"Yes, sir, if you like."  Siler went about getting the crate shifted off the low-level cart onto the concrete floor. Task completed, he began to push the cart out into the corridor.  "Ah, I'd suggest you get it unpacked and moved away from the entrance as soon as possible, sir. You know, with General Ryan's upcoming visit and base inspection, not to mention fire and safety regulations, sir.  I could send a couple of airmen to assist you?"

"Thank you, Sergeant. But I should be able to take care of it," Daniel assured, as he gingerly made his way over to the wooden crate, careful not to disturb, kick or trip over the other ancient and bizarre items arrayed and displayed on the floor.   

There was a very narrow pathway he could travel to get from his desk to the now blocked doorway. At least the second entryway was accessible, Daniel told himself as he turned to see it, too, was nearly blocked by the waist high shelving he had setup two weeks ago to store yet even more artifacts he had been unable to study much less categorize.        

Sighing loudly, Daniel lowered himself to the concrete floor to sit cross-legged before the crate. With the tool left by Sergeant Siler, he began to carefully loosen the wooden slats one a time, only half aware of what he was doing.

He had never been so far behind in his work as he was right now. Ever since they had lost Robert, Daniel felt a pang of sorrow at the memory of how the SGC's only other archeologist had died, he was once again the sole source for all things ancient, cultural and translatable in the Stargate program.  More and more he was beginning to feel like a museum curator and store room clerk than an actual practicing archeologist.  He should be the one out exploring other planets, the one getting his hands dirty excavating and studying the ruins of other off-world cultures, both human related and totally alien. Meaning of life stuff he had once called it. That was what he was educated and trained for, what he wanted to be doing.

Instead, here he was buried, literally and figuratively, in the bowels of Cheyenne Mountain trying to be archeologist, linguist, translator, negotiator, and recently, along with his teammates of SG-1, general all around problem solver to any matter which arose remotely related to the Stargate. Got a crisis, get SG-1.

"I ask you," Daniel addressed his cluttered office using one of Jack's favorite phrases, as the last of the wooden slats tore free, "what business do I have being a guinea pig for the Tok'Ra, a paratrooper in Russia, a pseudo private investigator breaking and entering into private homes and investigating lunatic fringe nut cases.  Well, okay, turned out Martin Lloyd wasn't such a nut case after all, but still. His associates were rather unpleasant to be around. Or flying Tel'tacs on rescue missions. But wait. I did enjoy piloting Jacob's vessel and pretending to be a Goa'uld." Daniel grinned at the memory of his microscopically brief life as the great and powerful system lord Oz. 

He continued to rummaged around in the open crate to lift out a platter shaped piece of reddish metal inscribed with markings he did not recognize, had no idea as to what they were, much less say. He set the platter aside and fished around for another object. 

"Or reprogramming bombs, I'm not a demolition expert." 

His searching hands found something else and pulled it from the packaging peanuts. This object, too, was metal, perhaps part of a helmet, possibly Roman in style. Sighing again, Daniel set the piece back into the crate followed by the red metal plate. Maybe he could study and interpret these objects in this lifetime.  He found the information folder from SG-8's mission debriefing tucked in along one interior side of the crate and took it out.  He opened it and perused the notes and photos dismayed at the skimpy information presented.

That's it, he thought slapping the folder closed in frustration. He needed to get back into the field portion of archeological work. He hadn't actually been on an off-world dig, since, well P3X-888, he recalled wincing. Okay, Daniel amended guiltily, P3X-888 was not a resounding success as far as archeological digs go.  Not only did Robert lose his life, along with all the members of the previous reincarnation of SG-11, he himself came within a hairsbreadth to being served on a spit at a Unas family gathering. At least he and Robert had the opportunity to work in the field again, getting their hands dirty excavating the fossilized Goa'uld larvae for the three weeks prior to disaster striking. 

Daniel would not count his recent sojourn to P4X-347 and the Goa'uld pleasure palace located on the planet as true field archeology.  Not only had addiction to the light caused the tragic deaths of all of SG-5, his own exposure encouraged him into an aborted suicidal leap from his apartment balcony.  Jack's very timely arrival was all that prevented him from killing himself. The return prolonged stay to the palace to gradually withdraw from the effects of the light had given SG-1 an unscheduled vacation and Daniel an unexpected opportunity to study a new Goa'uld dialect. Jack had dealt with nearly seeing Daniel commit suicide by passing the three weeks sunning himself on the beach, or playing with Loran, and just basically decompressing from all the accumulated stress garnered from four years of hazardous 'gate travel.

Daniel and Sam were sequestered in the palace, she interpreting how the alien device worked and he translating every scrap of Goa'uld text inscribed on the walls and pillars or anywhere else he could root it out. But he never got dirty, not once. So that didn't count as true field archeology.    

So now, for SG-1's next mission, Daniel would have the pleasure of accompanying Jack and Teal'c to M4C-862 to babysit their cadre of scientists, none of whom were archeologists.  Daniel groaned. He could envision it now. Seven days of an irritated and murderous Colonel Jack O'Neill and his aversion to scientists on one side. The very temperamental, demanding, and arrogant Doctor Hamilton on the other side and he, Daniel Jackson, stuck in the middle trying to keep the peace without shooting either antagonist. Oh, yes, he was very qualified for peacemaker and buffer.  No matter the ever expanding backlog of archeological and translation work piling up here, waiting for someone to attend to it. 

Daniel leaned forward resting his elbows on the opened crate, head in hands.   It was hopeless.   He could only logically assume General Hammond, contrary to what the older man had said, was still angry for that yelling incident in his office and the babysitting assignment to M4C-862 was part of the punishment.   To keep his sanity, Daniel realized, he would have to sharpen his groveling techniques, take his chances, and beg the general to let him go on an extended off world excavation.   He didn't care where, or with whatever SG unit, just as long as he could wallow in the dirt for an undetermined length of time and be an archeologist again.  That was his method of decompressing from the accumulated stress of his recent life experiences.

Sighing loudly in despair, Daniel stood.  Carrying the folder, he returned to his cluttered desk and sat down.  Too depressed to resume another translation job, he decided to attack his overflowing in box.  The first folder from the stack, marked urgent, was the preliminary UAV scans of P6T-348.   Initial mineralogical readings detected trinimun and naquadah deposits, and no signs of any recent habitation, human or otherwise, at least not within the range of the UAV.   Some of the blurry digital aerial reproductions showed unnatural geometrical shaped features on the terrain wholly or partially covered in native vegetation.  Now this looked interesting Daniel mused.  The enclosed memo was a personal one from Major Christopher Hill, the commander of the newly reformed SG-11.  Daniel had to wonder why the SGC didn't just admit SG-11 was a cursed unit and be rid of it.   After all, they didn't have an SG-13 either.  The major's memo was asking for specifics as to what he and his team should look for artifact-wise while conducting their mineral survey on P6T-348. 

Daniel had to admire the major's diligence.  He was grateful for the request for archeological input.  Most of the military commanders of the SG units made the request as an afterthought only  because General Hammond had issued it as a standing order. Some days Daniel wondered why he still bothered to remind everyone they were also peaceful explorers, that the scientific knowledge gained from 'gate travel didn't always have to be technological or military in nature. 

He reread Major Hill's written request.  The officer was certainly trying very hard to dispel the lingering scuttlebutt of SG-11 being the cursed unit.  Daniel had even overheard the new four member unit was using that as incentive to bond together and prove everyone wrong.  They were determined not to let the ghosts of SG-11s' past affect their ability to perform their duties.  Daniel could sympathize.  He knew everyone on base mistakenly thought he was blithely unaware of the Jackson Curse, that something very bad was destined to befall any SG unit he may journey off-world with.   He knew the talk was not meant to be overtly hurtful to him, but it still rankled. 

From nowhere, Daniel experienced a sudden jolt of mental insight.  Hadn't he just unfairly labeled SG-11 as the cursed unit?   Hadn't he done exactly what he wished the other base personal wouldn't do to him?  The only way to dispel a curse, he knew, was to defeat it, to break it, to prove it to be what it was, nonsense. 

So, with a sudden flash of insight, Daniel decided Major Hill and his team shouldn't need to keep their eyes open for artifacts while conducting their mineral survey on P6T-348.   Daniel would do that.   After all, he was a trained archeologist.  It was his job.

Clutching the folder in his hand, he exited his lab.  Convincing General Hammond, and Jack, to allow him to accompany SG-11 off-world would be a daunting task.  This would be his first off-world excursion since the Goa'uld pleasure palace.   It would also be with SG-11, whose previous third incarnation had all died horribly on P3X-888.   Daniel would have to utilize all the weapons at his disposal:  cajoling, definitely groveling, begging, even whining with several hurt puppy dog looks thrown in for good measure.  He had to convince both men he should be allowed to do this or he may begin believing in the Jackson Curse.   He and SG-11 both had something to prove to themselves and everyone else. 

As for the mission to M4C-862, Jack could deal with the arrogant Doctor Hamilton and the other scientists in his own military hardass way.  Besides, he and Jack were still a tad prickly with each other although the three weeks on P4X-347 had allowed them the opportunity to clear the air and discuss, rationally, what had been straining their friendship.   Still, the conjured image of Jack losing it with all those scientists buzzing around him did give Daniel a bizarre sense of satisfaction.  Of course he would never, ever let Jack know that.

****

George Hammond stood patiently behind his desk, struggling to maintain his dour, no nonsense military air of authority and not reveal how amusing he found the performance he was currently  privy too.   He glanced quickly through the glass partition separating his office from the Briefing Room.   The newly assembled SG-11 milled there, patiently awaiting their pre-mission briefing for P6T-348 to begin.  

His age-wise eyes again focused on the animated figure pacing on the opposite side of his desk.    A cavalcade of words were issuing from Doctor Jackson's mouth, tumbling over themselves.   A mission folder was clutched tightly in his left hand while he waved his right one for emphasis.   Doctor Jackson had engaged his full blown lecture mode, as Colonel O'Neill described it.  Aptly, too, George commented silently.

"...not that I objected to being a test subject and wearing the arm bands, to advance science and solidify our alliance with the Tok'Ra, but I'm an archeologist..."

That was the fourth time the good doctor had made the declaration in his current dissertation, George noted as the younger man continued his speech.  He was stating a rather emotional, but rational, case for being allowed to accompany SG-11 on their upcoming inaugural solo off-world mission.   Doctor Jackson was determined, lobbying hard and vociferously. 

"I'm not a spy, or a covert operative, General, although the experience with Martin was...interesting, I'll admit.  Still, I'm an archeologist..."

There goes number five, George tallied silently.

"...Jack forced me jump out of a plane in Siberia.  Me...I'm not a paratrooper, I'm an archeologist, fer cryin' outloud..."

A tiny smile threatened to break the general's military facade.  It's true...Doctor Jackson has been hanging around Jack O'Neill for too long.

"...or trying to reprogram a Tobin mine.  Well, yes, Sam actually was probably more essential to the success of that endeavor than I was.  I'm an archeologist, I don't know anything about mines

or how to blow things up.  That's Jack's area of expertise."

Number six.   George's grin was growing into a bemused smile.  How can the young man still be going full tilt without apparently slowing long enough to inhale.

"...although the tragic aftermath of the mission with SG-5 to the Goa'uld pleasure palace was not one I'd care to re-experience, I am an archeologist, after all, and studying ancient things is what I'm trained to do.  Now the ruins on P6T-348..."  Here Doctor Jackson actually ceased pacing to wave the folder around, "are definitely very similar to Mayan and other Pre-Columbian cultures. Just think of the archeological value of studying those nearly intact ruins. I may discover how the Mayan calendar is meant to work or interpret their written language.  Even today, the archeological community has no consensus on how exactly to decipher those hieroglyphs.   Besides, I strongly believe I'm owed this opportunity, General, to prove not every mission I go on will be a disaster."

Oh, hell,   George thought, he's heard the scuttlebutt about the Jackson Curse, damnit.   That declaration suddenly goes a long way in explaining why Doctor Jackson so badly wants to go with SG-11.  

"Now, I admit, my recent record for off world trips with other SGC teams hasn't been stellar.  Well, there was the Unas incident but, realistically, who could have predicted that happening.   I've already explained the Goa'uld pleasure palace.  I feel these incidents are unfairly held against my being allowed to join other off world teams by yourself, sir, or Jack. If I accompany Jack and Teal'c to M4C-862, Jack will just use me as a buffer or intermediary between himself and the scientists stationed there.  There is nothing of archeological value on the moon.  I'll be bored.  Now that the SGC is finally, finally, recruiting more civilian scientists into the program, Jack and the rest of the military personnel here will just have to learn how to deal with them.  This is one assignment I protest being coerced into performing, General.  Sam was allowed to go to the Air Force Academy to give her lectures.   She's being allowed to be an astrophysicist.  I'm an archeologist, not a babysitter."

George was somewhat taken aback by the adamant tone from the normally eager to please Doctor Jackson.  On the other hand, George thought, as he studied the now silent, expectant civilian, the doctor had, as usual, presented a strong case expressing his desire to be allowed to utilize his expertise --that of an archeologist.  True, SG-1 had undertaken a vast array of rather odd missions this past year, all of which Doctor Jackson obediently participated in whether he was qualified or not. If his team went, he went, too.   Probably residue from his appendicitis attack when he was left behind and the fate of SG-1 was unknown for nearly two agonizing weeks after the destruction of Thor's ship.  Doctor Jackson hadn't been this passionate about anything, aside from the excavation on P3X-888 and the opportunity to accompany SG-5 to the Goa'uld pleasure palace, in a long time.  George admitted he missed that enthusiastic Doctor Jackson.   Perhaps the young man deserved a reward for his perseverance and more importantly, an opportunity to disprove any notion of a Jackson Curse.

Once more the general glanced through the window into the Briefing Room.   From what George could remember from the reports on P6T-348, the ruins were impressive and the initial mineral survey promising.   More importantly, no signs of current habitation were detected.  It was a safe, simple survey mission, exactly why he had assigned it to SG-11 as their maiden solo off-world excursion.  Setting side Doctor Jackson's  habit of getting embroiled in unbelievable situations off-world, this mission just might be the one that goes smoothly.   It couldn't hurt to have a veteran gate traveler assigned to the still rookie unit.  Maybe together, they could lift both curses.  It was a risk, but one George was willing to take.

"Very, well, Doctor Jackson," the general began to issue his decision.   "You may accompany SG-11 to P6T-348."

"Now, General, I know wha...wha...what?"

"I said you made your case, Doctor Jackson.  You can go to P6T-348 and be an archeologist for a week."

"I...I can?"

"Yes."

"Ohh.   Ohh, well, thank you, sir.   Thank you.  Ahh, could you clear this with Jack?"

"I'll inform Colonel O'Neill you won't be accompanying him to M4C-862."    

"Great.   Well, SG-11 leaves tomorrow morning, right. I have to go pack my stuff."

Daniel continued his excited muttering as Hammond escorted him out of his office.   He watched the archeologist hurry from the Briefing Room before he turned his attention to the four saluting members of SG-11.   He'd give the good news to Major Hill after the briefing.  Then he'd tell Jack.

****

Jack stared morosely at Daniel's locker.  He still could not understand how Hammond could let Daniel weasel his way off the mission to M4 whatever and go with the newly revamped SG-11--the cursed unit--off-world.    What was Daniel, and the general for that matter, thinking anyway?  Wasn't Daniel's last escapade at the Goa'uld pleasure palace and the deaths of SG-5 enough to warrant not letting his archeologist off-world with any other SG team unless someone from SG-1 accompanied him?  Jack had lamely tried to get himself and Teal'c reassigned to do just that and had failed miserably in front of General Ryan, no less, the commander in chief of the Air Force  to whom the success of the scientific survey on M4C-862 was his personal pet project.   A personal project Jack had labeled as ridiculous in the general's presence.  Yeap, Jack never knew when to keep his mouth shut.  

The colonel sat on the wooden bench and picked up Daniel's neatly ironed, folded and stacked supply of head bandanas.  He had arrived just as the three junior members of SG-11 were departing from the Locker Room in search of their commanding officer.  Jack assumed they were headed to the 'gate room.  Daniel was going to be late--again.  Jack fingered the bandanas.  Of course, he could have said no, he told himself.   Daniel was his archeologist, after all.   Now that he and Daniel had aired their grievances from this past year, that was never more true.  SG-1's, and therefore, his, archeologist, not the SGC's.  It's just that Hammond had described how passionate Daniel had been in pleading his case.  Passion from Daniel about his work was something Jack feared he'd never see again.   He was somewhat annoyed Daniel wouldn't be available to run interference for him with that idiot Doctor Hamilton, but he could have said no.  Instead, he had agreed to let Daniel go with SG-11.  

A small grin graced his worried face.  Major Hill, and the rest of SG-11, Sergeant Kaleb Walters, Lieutenant Linda Parker and Sergeant Vijay Singh, were all very bright, capable officers, with extensive military field experience.  Lieutenant Parker's college education was in the sciences, geology mostly, which would come in handy on this mission.  The two sergeants were expert marksmen and field trained in first aide.   Major Christopher Hill, although of the new breed of Air Force officer, highly educated and intelligent, was not too full of himself and someone Jack actually took a liking to upon their first meeting.   All of them had excelled in their off-world training, easily accepting the fantastic concept of gate travel.   Their two previous joint missions with SG-2 and SG-9, had gone well. They had quickly bonded together as a team.   They were ready to go solo.   Jack just wasn't sure they were ready to go solo with Daniel Jackson accompanying them. 

He frowned suddenly remembering he hadn't gotten around to giving Major Hill, "the talk" concerning the care and feeding of one Daniel Jackson while off world and away from the protective embrace of SG-1.  Nor had he gotten the chance to emphasize the consequences to SG-11 if the aforementioned Daniel Jackson was not returned to the SGC alive, with all his body parts in tact and in perfect health.

The aforementioned archeologist chose that moment to bustle into the deserted locker room.

"Hey, Jack," he greeted nearly out of breath.  He set down a leather bound book on the bench and hurriedly gathered his vest and pulled it on over his field uniform.

"You're gonna be late," Jack drawled, rising from the bench to pick up Daniel's back pack and gear.

"I know, I know. I couldn't find Crutail's Notations on Pre-Columbian Cultures," Daniel explained in an explosion of words, waving his right hand toward the book.   He busied himself with getting his gun belt and holster wrapped around and secured to his waist and thigh.   "I only had last night to get everything I'd need packed onto the FRED."

"I don't know how you can unearth anything in that lab of yours," Jack commented dryly handing Daniel his week's supply of neatly folded head bandanas.   Daniel only scowled as the bundle of folded cloth disappeared into an inner vest pocket.

When that was accomplished, Jack helped his friend shoulder the vest/back pack combination.   The older man retrieved the book, slipping it into the pack and zipping the compartment closed.   "I'll walk you to the Embarkation room."

"Okay."

The two friends hurried toward their destination. They glimpsed the kitted forms of SG-11 entering the gate room ahead of them.   As they neared the opened doorway, Daniel slowed his pace then stopped.   The two men could already hear the rumbling of the Stargate as the seventh chevron was engaged.  

"Jack."  

The older man looked at Daniel. 

"You're really okay with me going to P6T-348 and not M4C-862 with you and Teal'c?"

Jack could see the uncertainty in Daniel's face.  "If I wasn't, I would've said no, right?"

"Right."   Still Daniel hesitated, eying his friend as the sound of the wormhole exploding into existence echoed into the corridor. 

"Okay, I admit I don't want you going off world with SG-11," Jack confessed.   He could never lie to Daniel.   "I was depending on you to help me keep those scientists in line.  I know you want to be an archeologist.  But, Danny, SG-11?"

"What, you don't believe in that cursed unit stuff, do you?" Daniel challenged.

Oh, hell Jack thought, keeping his sudden anger concealed.   He's heard that Jackson Curse scuttlebutt on the base.  Damnit, I guaranteed severe bodily damage to anyone who even breathed that within Daniel's hearing before Teal'c eviscerated them.  So this is the real reason he wants to go.  Damnit, Daniel.  The colonel knew it was too late to prevent his friend from accompanying SG-11.   To do so would broadcast he did believe in that curse nonsense and severely damage Daniel's self confidence, which was often fragile even during the best of times.

"Daniel. Go.   Be an archeologist.   Get dirty.  Dig up your rocks."

"Artifacts."

Jack smiled.   "Whatever.   Don't give Major Hill a hard time like you do me."   When Daniel began to protest, Jack lifted his right finger, "Ahh.   Eat when he tells you.  Sleep when he tells you.  Ration the coffee.   Don't touch weird things. Don't argue with the major's orders."  He zipped Daniel's vest closed before resting his hands on Daniel's shoulders.   "And don't let any stinky monsters drag you off, okay?"

"Okay."   Daniel smiled understanding this was Jack's way of expressing his concern.

"It's their first solo mission, Daniel.  Keep the babbling down to about a hundred words a minute, okay.   Be kind," he added.  He gently spun Daniel around and gave him a little friendly shove to get him moving.

When they entered the gate room, Jack saw a questioning blond haired Major Christopher Hill casting is blue eyes toward the control room.

"He's coming," Sergeant Davis' voice boomed over the loud speaker having obviously read the major's unspoken question.

Sergeant Singh glanced to his three teammates.  "He?" he questioned.

Oops , Jack thought.  They hadn't been told of their late edition to the team.

"Major?" Lieutenant Parker inquired.

Since the three junior members of SG-11 stood before their commander with their backs toward the door, they hadn't yet seen Jack accompanying Daniel into the gate room.   But Major Hill, who was facing the door, did notice their arrival.  Jack gave him a playful salute.

"Well, since there wasn't time  for a full briefing," Major Hill began as an explanation.  "We're on a simple survey mission..."

"If it's so simple why are we all packing extra ammo?" Singh interrupted, as he quickly assessed his ammo supply. 

Jack liked that.   The sergeant was observant and thankfully, the armory sergeant had followed his last minute instructions to requisition extra ammunition to SG-11.

"And I have three med kits," Walters reported.

"Three?   I have two AND four pounds of coffee," Parker interjected.

Jack detected the palatable sense of realization fall over the three junior members of SG-11.   The trio spoke simultaneously, but he couldn't quite hear what they said.

"Now look, it's not that bad," Hill hurried to reassure his teammates.   He glanced over to see Doctor Jackson was apparently oblivious to their conversation as the archeologist checked the equipment loaded onto the waiting FRED.  The major then favored O'Neill with an apologetic look.

"I'm sorry I'm late," Daniel said.  The three teammates turned at the sound of his voice. "I had trouble finding Crutail's Notation on Pre-Columbian Cultures," he repeated his earlier excuse.

From behind his friend, Jack favored Hill with a bemused look. 

"That's okay, sir," the major said, silencing his people with a glare.  

"Daniel, have fun." O'Neill patted his friend on the back.

"Thanks, Jack.   You, too," he replied following the subdued Singh, Walters and Parker up the  ramp.

Kaleb operated the hand control for the FRED and they slowly disappeared into the wormhole.

"We'll take care of him, sir," Hill reassured O'Neill.

"See that you do," Jack replied, his face hardening.

The major clearly understood Jack's unspoken warning and hustled to join his team.   He paused at the event horizon, gave one last glance around and saluted the general who was gazing benignly from the control room. "We who are about to die, salute you," he muttered as he strode into the wormhole.  Their first solo off-world mission and they were so screwed.

****

Daniel emerged from the event horizon onto a stone platform covered by late afternoon shadows.   He wobbled for a second regaining his equilibrium, having learned over the years how to adjust to the often rough arrival on the opposite end of the wormhole, and avoided bumping into the FRED halted directly in his path.  He began a quick visual of their immediate surroundings.  He saw Singh, Walters and Parker were all arrayed at the base of   the platform, guns raised performing their own reconnaissance.  

The sound of a thud and grunting behind him drew Daniel's attention to the dissipating wormhole.   Major Hill lay sprawled on the platform alongside the scientist’s booted feet.  Daniel quickly bent down and helped the embarrassed commander to stand. 

"It takes a while to learn how to exit gracefully from the wormhole," he said glad Hill did not wave off his offer of assistance.  "The first few times I went through I ended up flat on my ass."

"Yes, sir," Hill said smartly. 

Daniel watched the major quickly locate his team members and sensed the officer's relief they hadn't witnessed his less than graceful arrival on P6T-348.

Eager to begin exploring, Daniel moved down the stone paved ramp, noticing the MALP stood immobile to his left.  He quickly checked it out and determined the radio receiver and camera were undamaged before he hurried over to the DHD.  He thought Jack would be pleased he actually focused on establishing the threat assessment, or lack thereof, of the area before obsessing on the ruins so tantalizingly close. After nearly five years of his friend's influence, Daniel was thinking more like a soldier.  A quick inventory of the DHD showed it, too, was functioning so they would be able to get home.  

"The DHD and the MALP are functioning," Daniel announced. 

"Ah, that was my assignment, Doctor Jackson," Lieutenant Parker stated as she joined him at the DHD.

"Oh, right.   Sorry.  Habit, I guess," Daniel apologized.   He noted the brunette, hazeled eyed officer was not appeased even when he flashed one of his rare smiles.  Okay, not exactly getting off on the right foot, here Daniel mused his smile fading. 

He immediately focused his attention on the pristine ruins spread out before him beckoning to be investigated.  An intricately carved stele stood left of the platform.  Surrendering to his insatiable curiosity, Daniel rushed over to investigate feeling the surge of adrenaline whenever a new discovery was revealed waiting to be explored.  He began to caress the anthromorphic bas-relief features, definitely Mayan in style, before noting the pronounced carved twining snake body coiled around the stele.  Lifting his head, Daniel faced the gaping mouth threatening to swallow him.  The snake's head was an exact carved replica of a Goa'uld symbiont.   This could be a problem Daniel mused as he hesitantly brushed his fingers over the fully extended hood fins.

"Doctor Jackson?"

Major Hill's query intruded on Daniel's mental theorizing.

"Isn't this fantastic?" Daniel enthused.  "An exact representation of a Goa'uld symbiont, not at all zoomorphized like the Mayan carvings of the feathered serpent found throughout Central America."

"And what does that mean, exactly, sir?" Hill asked.

"I have no idea. But it'll be fascinating to try and find out, don't you agree?   And it's Daniel," he added as an afterthought hoping to create a more informal setting.

"Are there Goa'uld here?"

"Can you translate the hieroglyphic inscriptions?"

Both of these anxious questions issued from the sergeants.

"What?" Daniel turned around to face the gathered, suddenly wary members of SG-11. "I doubt it.  You can see," he waved his right arm toward the deserted city, "these ruins have been abandoned for a long time. We should be cautious, of course, but..."   

"Yes, sir," Hill interrupted.  He turned to address his team.  "According to the preliminary MALP data, we only have a few hours of daylight remaining.   I want to have our base camp established and secured before nightfall.  Doctor Jackson, you'll have to wait until tomorrow to begin your archeological investigation."

Daniel looked at the young major, about the same age as himself, and readied a protest.   Then he remembered what Jack had told him and he relented.  "Okay."

Hill favored him with a confused expression.  "Okay...sir?"

"Okay.   Good planning, Major," Daniel continued.  He began to survey the plaza and pyramid structures.  He pointed.   "Over there against that stone wall.  It's somewhat secluded and protected."

"And defendable," Sergeant Walters added.   

"And defendable," Daniel repeated.

After a few moments, Major Hill accepted the recommendation and ordered the team forward.   Sergeant Singh took responsibility for maneuvering the FRED down the sloping incline onto the flat plaza.   The team CO took point with Walters and Parker on the flank.  Daniel understood he was to stay behind the protective human shield with the FRED lumbering behind him. 

As the group of explorers made the trek through the ancient plaza, Daniel took in as much of the grandeur surrounding him as he could.  Scattered about were gigantic sculptured monoliths and alters, some standing erect, others fallen over or broken, their surface richly carved with masks, animals, human-like figures and inscriptions.  Huge pyramid-shaped structures peeked through the encroaching green and yellow hued jungle vegetation.  As they passed the deserted structures, Daniel observed some were not as undamaged as he first thought.  Remains of stairways, platforms, and walls, were all shattered by invading roots of trees and thick vines.  Which was comforting in a way, he mused since he didn't see blast holes or scorch marks in the damaged stone indicating desertion of the metropolis may have been caused by war.   Numerous, massive stone carved heads of Goa'uld symbionts had fallen from the building facades and lay tumble about.  There was a mystery here, Daniel knew.  He only hoped seven days would be enough time for him to at least develop a plausible theory to explain it all.

Surrounding this archeological treasure trove were steeply sloping jagged mountains whose sides were cut by broken terrain, ravines, and chasms.   As Daniel listened, he was certain he heard the distant rumble of waterfalls.  Everywhere the terrain was covered with lush venation.  He inhaled deeply, noting little aroma in the unusually dry air.   Being in a jungle habitat, Daniel expected the constant presence of humidity.  Instead, no clouds marred the pale blue yellowed sky and there was a definite chill in the air.   Daniel inhaled again and waited.   Apparently Janet's all purpose allergy medication was going to protect him from any airbourne allergens on this planet.  Pleased, Daniel eagerly anticipated his exploration and excavation activities.

The group arrived at the location they had scoped from the now distant Stargate platform.   While Lieutenant Parker kept watch, the four men efficiently set up camp.  Within an hour, as the planet's binary suns were disappearing behind the western mountains, four tents were erected, Singh and Kaleb were setting out the last of the perimeter motion sensors and a welcoming campfire was blazing.   Five MRES were bobbing in a pot of boiling water.

Chris surveyed their camp and felt satisfied with the result.  His teammates joined him as they removed the sleeping bags and still-to-be-inflated air mattresses from the FRED.  They noticed Doctor Jackson was sitting by the fire on a camp stool, MALP aerial photos in his hands and lying scattered around his booted feet.

"Looks like soups on, sir," Linda commented eyeing the MREs.

"Before we eat, we owe Doctor Jackson an apology," Chris announced.

"Why, sir?" Kaleb asked, a hint of his Texas upbringing in his voice.   A frown marred his rugged face.

"Because he overhead our conversation in the 'gate room," Chris explained.

The junior members of SG-11 shared a contrite, embarrassed look.

"Are you sure?" Singh asked.

"Oh, yes.   By the look Colonel O'Neill was lasering my way, he heard it, too."

"Oops," Singh said for all of them.

"Well, why didn't he say something then?" Kaleb wanted to know.

"Because he's a nice man, " Linda said.  "Too nice to even bring it up that's why."

"Let's get this over with," Chris ordered. "We're here for the next seven days and I don't want Doctor Jackson thinking he's unwelcome or unprotected."   Hill lead the procession, his contrite teammates following him.  "Doctor Jackson, sir," he announced their arrival as they fanned out to face the seated archeologist.

The civilian looked up from assessing the aerial photos, one finger habitually pushing his sliding glasses up his nose. 

Seeing SG-11 staring down at him must have been both intimidating and unnerving Chris suddenly realized silently berating himself for not selecting a less abrupt strategy.  

"Ah, the MRE's are almost ready," the archeologist managed to inform them.

"Yes, sir.   We, all of us," Chris indicated his team with a nod of his head, "would like to apologize."

"I'm sorry?" the doctor asked, puzzlement evident on his face.  "Apologize for what?"

"For our comments in the gate room prior to departure.  They were unprofessional and disrespectful.  I want to personally assure you your safety on this mission is our highest priority."

"I've no doubt I'm safe with your team, Major," Jackson said.  "I don't believe in the SG-11 curse, do you?"   Four faces became slightly indignant.   "Just like I hope you don't believe in the Jackson Curse."

"Sir," Chris began, angry.

The archeologist held up his right hand.  "I know.   It's unfair, to all of us.   Maybe we can dispel it by successfully completing this mission and prove to everyone there are no curses."

How does he do that, Chris thought, his admiration for the archeologist ratcheting up a few more notches.  Instead of becoming indignant with SG-11's bad manners, the civilian had put them at ease, offering to assist them in alleviating the unfair label of cursed unit.  "I like that plan, sir."

Doctor Jackson flashed a quick smile.  "Good.   So do I." He piled his photographs and set them on the flagstoned ground.  "MREs are ready."

One by one, the team selected their MREs before sitting on individual camp stools ringed around their fire.  Daniel opened his foil packet, fork stirring the contents before he took a hesitant mouthful, chewed then swallowed.  "Yeap," he declared, "packet says roast beef but it still tastes like chicken."

Singh chucked and shared amused glances with his teammates.  "If I may, sir, what is the story behind that?   Major Ferritti told us it's part of the SGC lore."

"The tastes like chicken?  I think Major Ferritti is pulling a fast one on you.  He does that to all the new recruits to the program."

"But there's a story behind it, isn't there, sir?" Singh persisted.

Relenting, the archeologist nodded.  "On the very first mission to Abydos, the Abydonian people held a banquet in our honor. They thought we were messengers from Ra.  However, that's another long story.  One of the delicacies they offered us was this roasted desert lizard thing--that's the closet translation. Anyway, to save face, I took the first bite.   It tasted like chicken and I told Jack the same.  Unfortunately," he held up his opened MRE, "this glop the Air Force insists is food all tastes like chicken to me, especially the macaroni and cheese.   It's sort of a running joke on SG-1."

There were several chuckles from SG-11. 

"The first trip through the gate. It must have been fantastic," Singh continued.

"We had no idea what we were doing," Doctor Jackson stated, "or what danger awaited us.   When we arrived, I had no clue how to get us back.  Good men died.   But you're right, it was enlightening and life altering for those of us who survived."

A silence encompassed the encampment.  The ink black of night smothered and surrounded them as they ate within the comforting glow of their campfire.

"I'm sorry about your wife, Doctor Jackson," Linda suddenly ventured.   Immediately after the words blurted out she wished to take them back unspoken. 

The uncomfortable silence lengthened and Chris glared at his 2IC over the dancing flames of the fire.

"Thank you," Doctor Jackson finally acknowledged, his voice soft.   "Here."  Suddenly he picked up his field journal.   He opened it on his lap and took out a small black and white photograph and held it toward Linda.

She took it.   The grainy photo showed a lovely dark haired young woman dressed in rough spun desert robes.   She was smiling, a coy, teasing smile.   "Your wife?" Linda asked feeling the catch in her throat.

"Yes, Sha're."

"She's very beautiful," Linda commented passing the photo on to Singh.

"Yes. I still miss her, every day."

All four members of SG-11 heard the sorrow in the archeologist's voice.  Chris looked at the photo before he returned it to its owner.   He doubted any of his team would look at the resin circle with the Abydos symbol hanging in the chapel the same way again.  They now had a face to match the name.

"Sha're is why it's of utmost importance for the Stargate program to continue and be successful," the archeologist continued, the passion carried in his words.   "The Goa'uld have to be stopped so no one else will suffer the fate of my wife.  Or she, and all the others who have died, will have sacrificed their lives in vain."

Chris looked into the blue eyes and saw the passion of a man on a mission burning there, not a geeky archeologist here to play in the ruins.  "We all realize the importance of those engraved circles hanging in the chapel and why we have to succeed as a team.   I don't plan on adding our names to that wall."  

Doctor Jackson secured his wife's photo in the field journal.  When he looked up again, the passion was gone from his eyes but Chris now knew it burned deep within.

"Speaking of missions, here are the duty assignments," the CO announced.   "Singh and Waters, you both accompany Parker tomorrow on the first mineral survey in the mines east of here.   I'll accompany Doctor Jackson.   We'll maintain radio contact every thirty minutes.  As to the watch schedule, since the preliminary MALP information noted this planet's night is about ten hours, I'll take the first and last two hour watches.   Singh, Waters and Parker in that order."

"Ahh, excuse, me," Doctor Jackson spoke up, right index finger pointing skyward.   "I can take a watch shift."   

Chris shook his head. "Thank you for offering, sir.  But as a civilian, your assignment is to study these ruins.   My duty is to complete the mineral survey and protect you."

"I don't want to be difficult, Major," the doctor stubbornly continued, "but my assignment to this team includes fulfilling my portion of the night watch, cooking and whatever other duties as needed.  I'm not a civilian, I'm a temporary member of SG-11.   So, I'd like to volunteer to take the pre-dawn watch.  I'll be awake anyway and I can get the coffee started.  I know you can make it an order but I hope you don't."

Chris looked at the determined Doctor Jackson and relented. "Very well, sir."

The pitch black night was disturbed by an unholy wailing echoing in the dark.   Immediately, the five explorers stood, P90's, and in Daniel's case, hand gun, all drawn and pointing into the surrounding darkness.

"Those motion sensors are working, right?" Doctor Jackson asked as he scanned the nearly impenetrable darkness beyond their tents and illuminated ring of comfort.

"Yes, sir," Walters answered.  "What was that?"

"Not sure," Daniel answered.  "Animal maybe.   Could have been the wind."

"Could be ghosts," Kaleb muttered.

"That's not as unbelievable as it seems," Daniel commented.   "Many cultures believe the spirits of their ancestors haunt the ruins of their earlier civilizations."

"This should be a fun night," Singh muttered in reply to his teammate.

"We are so screwed," Walters said under his breath.  He turned slightly to his right to catch the full wattage glare Major Hill was directing his way.  Kaleb understood the silent message very clearly:  keep your mouth shut.

****

DAY TWO   P6T-348

Daniel walked slowly behind the FRED as the all terrain vehicle crept along.   When he and Major Hill arrived at their destination at the base of the temple, he shut off the hand control and secured it to the carrier.   Retrieving a video camera, extra video tape cartridges and his field journal, the archeologist began to enthusiastically climb the steep narrow stone steps leading to the top of the pyramid.   He heard the reassuring clomp of Major Hill's booted feet behind him as the soldier followed him upward.

At least he didn't yell at me not to run off Daniel thought.  He did support my suggestion of storing the FRED here over Sergeant Walters' protests.   He began to visually survey every carved detail of the intertwined and coiled serpents decorating the edges of the stone staircase, the act  unintentionally slowing his ascent and allowing Major Hill to pass him in the climb.  

The two men finally arrived at the top and stood at the darkened entryway.  Daniel peered into the gloom and could barely see the outline of five doorways divided by pilasters decorated with stucco relief’s and panels of hieroglyphs.  Tilting his head back he saw the upper facade was a maze of sculptured designs.   Crowning the roof were the remains of an openwork crest, or comb, made of stucco and cut stone.   The architecture was very similar to Mayan ruins unearthed in the jungles of Central America.   This fact alone seeded several theories of origins in Daniel's mind.  Incredibly, he had six full planetary days to study, translate and validate any theory he may develop.   It was an opportunity he intended to take full advantage of.

"This is utterly fantastic," Daniel exclaimed.  "There's been very little erosion to the stonework, unlike the Mayan temples and ruins found in Central America."   Turning round Daniel surveyed the layout of the deserted metropolis spreading in all directions from the centralized temple.  "The entire plan is very similar to Copan in Honduras," he commented.   "After I study this temple I think I'll look at that building over in the second plaza." Daniel pointed to the selected building.

"The one with the doorway in the serpent's mouth," Major Hill observed.

"Yes.   With only six days, that's the best I'll be able to do.  I could spend years here and still not see it all," Daniel commented wistfully.

He took out his binoculars and scanned the surroundings.  Their perch offered an unimpeded view of the ruined metropolis far superior to the digital aerials obtained from the UAV flyby.  Lying in direct opposition to the Stargate platform, Daniel observed a naturally formed circular depression in the rock.   "It even has a cenote like the one found in Copan," he commented.

"Sir?" Major Hill asked, confused.

Daniel lowered is binoculars, and recalled Jack's admonishment to speak in less than a hundred words a minute.  "A cenote, a natural sink hole depression found in several of the Mayan ruined cities on Earth.  Apparently, they were used for sacrifices as jewelry, bones human and animal, and gold, silver or jade figurines have been dredged up from the one at Copan."

"I see," the soldier said but Daniel guessed he didn't and was being polite.   "I'm relieved we won't be meeting the natives then."

"Let's hope so," Daniel seconded.  He lifted up the binoculars again and scanned the near distant lower mountain range pockmarked with holes physical evidence of the once active mining activities.   He finally saw the three cammo clad figures of the remainder of SG-11, arriving at their first mine entrance to begin their survey.  "You'll be able to keep an eye on your team from here,"  he commented lowering the binoculars.

Major Hill raised his own field glasses to his face and found his team.  "Yes, as you suggested, Doctor Jackson."

"It's Daniel."

Hill looked at the archeologist.  "Sir, it would not be appropriate for me to address you as anything but Doctor or sir," he stated straight-faced. 

"Okay," Daniel surrendered, grinning as he turned again to face the gloomy entrance.   "I'm, ah, going to start in here."

"I'll go first, sir," Hill suggested, clicking on his flashlight clipped to his vest.   He strode past Daniel and cautiously entered the temple P90 aimed and primed for use. 

Taking out his own flashlight, Daniel followed.  Studying the temple interior corridor, he observed  three narrow vaulted chambers divided by stone partitions.    Set in the interior walls were three limestone tablets covered with hieroglyphs finely carved in low relief.  

"Oooh," Daniel breathed, fingers brushing over the carvings on the first tablet.” I think this is where I'll start."

"Perimeter is secure, Doctor," Hill declared.  He came to stand behind Daniel, silent and observant. 

"Tell me, Major," Daniel began conversationally as he drew out his video camera and loaded a cartridge into the device, "did you have a private conversation with Jack, er Colonel O'Neill, before we departed the SGC?"

"No, sir."

Facing the carved tablets, Daniel grinned.  Didn't have "the talk", he mused holding the camera to his face and activating it.  Guess I'll have to be on my best behavior then.  This is going to be a long six days without Jack here bothering me every five minutes because he's bored Daniel told himself before he became totally engrossed in deciphering the secrets the tablets would hopefully reveal.

The remainder of SG-11 arrived at their first sample location.  The gaping black hole in the hillside was evidence of long ago primitive mining activities.  Both Kaleb and Vijay stationed themselves in sentry positions, Singh having first shone his flashlight into the cave opening.  Detecting no surprises, he nodded to Linda Parker she could proceed with her mineral survey and sample collection. 

"Boy, do I feel for the major," Kaleb commented after a few quiet minutes had passed and no lurking danger had unrepentantly attacked them.   The stocky, muscular sergeant still had a bad feeling about those wailing noises from last night.

"How so?" Singh asked, his dark eyes scanning the well trod path they had taken from the city to the mine.

"You're kidding, right?" Kaleb retorted.  "Having to stand around all day watching Doctor Jackson work.   Boring."

The brown skinned sergeant shrugged his shoulders. "Maybe.  Could be interesting though, listening to what Doctor Jackson may discover.  Besides, it's important the good doctor have all his assets protected."

"You mean you'd babysit him if ordered to?" Kaleb asked.

"That's my job.   Yours too, don't forget."

"Yeah, but need I remind you what happened to the last SG unit Doctor Jackson accompanied off world?  SG-5 and they all died."

"So did Doctor Jackson, I heard," Singh countered.

"I hadn't heard that," Kaleb admitted.  "So spill."

"One of the SF's told me in the break room.  He was on duty when Doctor Fraiser and O'Neill gurneyed him in from the infirmary.   Said the man flatlined right there in the 'gate room.  O'Neill just tossed him over his shoulder and ran into the wormhole.  Luckily, Doctor Jackson revived back at that Goa'uld pleasure palace as Doctor Fraiser had hoped."

"Lucky for him, not so lucky for SG-5," Kaleb snorted.

"You saying you actually believe that Jackson Curse scuttlebutt?" Singh asked.

"All right, knock it off you two," Linda verbally reprimanded from her kneeling position as she scooped up more soil into a labeled glass vial.

"Look, Parker," Kaleb began in his defense, "don't get me wrong.   Doctor Jackson is a nice man and I have great respect for him and all of SG-1 for what they've sacrificed to the Stargate program.   Hell, the man is a certifiable genius but he's not full of himself, treats everyone as an equal, you know.   "

"And he knows his stuff off world," Singh interjected. "Erected those tents last night like a seasoned field veteran."

"And don't forget he shared his coffee with us this morning," Linda added.

"Yeah, coffee you had to lug here," Kaleb snorted.  Then he grinned at Singh.  "Ohh, Parker's got it bad," he teased.

"No, I don't," the 2IC denied.  "If we're all agreed we respect the man there's no need for us to be bad mouthing him, okay?   We're professionally trained soldiers here to complete our mission.  We all know how important it is to the major we succeed.  That is our primary objective."

Not having anything to counter the lieutenant's logic, the two sergeants concentrated on their duty.  Keeping watch on their surroundings, they anticipated their CO's first radio check in for the day. 

When the trio arrived at their base camp late in the afternoon, the fire was already blazing.   Major Hill had the night's MRE's cooking in the boiling water. He stood when his team members approached.

Lieutenant Parker handed him a sealed carrying case.  "Here, sir, our first day samples."

"Good. I'll send these through the Stargate and report in."

At that moment, Doctor Jackson emerged from his tent.  "I'll go with you, Major.  You shouldn't travel alone and I can study the serpent stele near the gate."

"All right, Doctor Jackson.  We'll return in thirty minutes," the CO informed his team.

The two men walked away from the camp toward the pyramid dominating the central plaza and the barely visible Stargate located on the other side.

"Vijay, look."  Kaleb bent over and picked up the leather bound journal from its resting place on a camp stool.   "Doctor Jackson's field notebook."

"Yeah, so?"

"So...."

"No, absolutely not," Linda admonished as she set her first set of empty soil vials next to her camp stool to prepare them for their second excursion tomorrow.   "That's the man's diary.   We have no right to nose around in his private diary."

"Aren't you the least bit curious about what he writes in these things?"   Kaleb continued, turning the closed journal over in his thick, calloused hands.  "I mean everyone at the base is always speculating."

"No," Linda stated emphatically taking out her second case of unlabeled sample jars from their supplies.

"Well, I'm curious," Kaleb continued opening the journal.   "Just a quick scan. If I find personal stuff I'll stop."

"The major will flay us alive if he finds out," Singh warned.  "Put it down."  Ignoring the command, Kaleb flipped slowly through the neatly scrawled pages.  "Well?" Singh asked his curiosity finally getting the better of his manners.

"Just notes on the ruins, some nice hand drawn sketches.  The good doctor is quite an artist.  And some possible translations."

"So, okay now we know," Linda fumed glaring at her teammate.   "Put it down."

Kaleb flipped to the first page of the journal.  His dark brown eyes quickly scanned the cursive. "Wow, listen to this.   He must have wrote this on his watch this morning."  He began to read the neat rounded cursive.

"Last night, Major Hill ordered his team to apologized for their less than complementary comments concerning my late addition to this mission.  It was nice but I know they didn't mean their remarks to be derogatory.   They were just discussing the Jackson Curse.  If Jack knew I've heard the talk around the base he'd go ballistic.  He thinks he's terrorized everyone into keeping their mouth shut.   After the troubles between us this past year, I'm gratified to know Jack was still protective, still cared for my well being, even when we were both mad as hell at each other.  

"Still, I don't blame SG-11.  This newest version of the team have their own burden to bear.  They're a good team.  They've bonded quickly, have a great camaraderie with each other, trust and protect each other.   Major Hill reminds me a lot of Jack when I first met him.  Way too military but very serious in performing his duties and protecting my ass.   I don't think Jack gave him "the talk" yet.  I'll ask him tomorrow.  The Major badly wants this, their first solo off-world mission, to be successful so he can begin to dispel the unwarranted curse of SG-11.  I agree.  I'm going to do all I can to help him succeed.  I know well the feeling of being unfairly labeled so I'll have to be on my best behavior.

"I like the individuals of SG-11.  Sergeants Walters and Singh are very soldierly and I mean that in a complimentary fashion.   I feel very protected in their presence. Lieutenant Parker is very bright and capable as the 2IC.  She offered her condolences to me about Sha're.    Lieutenant Parker is the first new recruit to the SGC to do so since Sha're died.  It was very touching and most welcome.  I'm not afraid to talk about you, my love.   I have the memories of our year together to sustain me.   Unfortunately, everyone else is afraid to ask, thinking they would upset me when just the opposite is true.   Talking about you will always keep you alive in my heart.

"It's nearly dawn.   Soon be time to rouse the others.   I wonder how Jack is doing on M4C-862.   He's had nearly ten hours of exposure to Doctor Hamilton and the other scientists.  I'm looking forward to returning to the SGC and have Teal'c tell me all the exciting details.  Jack will rue the day he introduced Teal'c to the concept of gossip.   I can tease Jack about how good he's had it with Sam and myself on SG-1 for the past five years.  After all, it's no secret how Jack feels about scientists.    He's made his opinions well known since our first mission to Abydos when he called me a dweeb and said I was full of shit.   I never would have even imagined from such adverse beginnings would evolve the friendship of a lifetime."

"Okay, that's enough," Linda declared.  She snatched the journal from Kaleb and closed it with a snap before replacing it on the camp stool.  "Well, aren't we a trio," she admonished eying her two teammates.   "Prying into a man's private journal."

"Yeah, we should apologize," Kaleb suggested, ashamed he allowed his nosy curiosity to overcome his good sense.

"Absolutely not," Linda countered, glaring at her two male teammates.   "We say nothing, to anyone, especially not to Doctor Jackson.  How's that gonna make him feel--people prying into his personal business, like we don't trust or respect him.  If Colonel O'Neill ever found out... we can kiss our careers and our asses goodbye."

Singh smiled.   "Sounds like the good doctor has another protector," he teased.  "Couldn't have anything to do with those baby blues, could it?"

Linda glared at the sergeant feeling the heat flushing her face a pale pink in the fading daylight.

"But you're right," Vijay relented under her scathing look.   "The first day of the mission has come and gone.   We're still here and in one piece.   The good doctor has tried very hard to make us feel at ease.  Time we returned the favor."

The three nodded in agreement and resumed their evening duties.  When they were becoming concerned with the absence of their CO and the doctor, the two men arrived as the blackness of night once again descended on P6T-348.

****

END OF DAY ONE M4C-862

"He's such a conceited, dull witted, unyielding military grunt who wouldn't know a scientific discovery if it was right in front of him.  I don't know how Doctor Jackson has put up with this idiot O'Neill for the past five years!"  Doctor Hamilton ranted. 

Both Doctors Lee and Thompson quietly followed in the wake of their defacto leader.   The group of three scientists rounded the corner of the main base prefab building, nearly bumping into both O'Neill and Teal'c, the silent sentinels. 

"That's Colonel O'Neill to you, Doctor," the soldier corrected.  His eyes, covered by his sunglasses added to his imposing stature.   "And I don't know.   Why don't you ask Daniel the next time you get together to do whatever it is you scientists do."

"I warn you, O'Neill," Hamilton began, matching the colonel glare for glare, "your intractable behavior is unacceptable. You will feature prominently in our report to General Ryan."

"Oh please.... spell my name right. That's O'Neill with two ell's.  And I'm quaking in my boots.  Now move along, gentlemen.  Time to tuck you in for the night."

In a huff, Doctor Hamilton stomped toward the barracks, followed obediently by this two associates.

"Give me strength," O'Neill muttered looking skyward.

"If it were possible, I would freely give you of my physical strength, O'Neill," Teal'c offered.  "Do you wish me to throttle Doctor Hamilton?"

O'Neill's shaded glare settled onto the implacable Jaffa, then quickly softened.   "Thanks Teal'c.   That will be my pleasure."   He removed his cap and raked his fingers vigorously through his silver hair.  "How many more days of this torture do we have to go?"

"Six."

"Six." O'Neill sighed replacing his cap on his head.  "I'll kill Hamilton before then, I swear.   Why I ever agreed to let Daniel..."   The remainder of the sentence went unspoken.  "I hope Daniel's having a fun time with SG-11.  I never gave Major Hill the talk.  Daniel had better be one hundred percent when they get back or else...."

****

DAY THREE P6T-348

"Now, this is interesting."

"What is that, Doctor Jackson?"  Hill, having heard the awed outburst from the archeologist, reentered the temple.   He had visually reconfirmed his team was hard at work at their second selected survey location for the day.

"Well, these hieroglyphs," Daniel pointed excitedly.  "If I'm translating these correctly, it says this temple was dedicated to Chac, which is the Mayan storm god.   Also the god of rainmaking, thunder and lightening.   This would make sense if the native population here were using this to describe an active Stargate.   The event horizon is water like, it rumbles like thunder when activated and I suppose the chevrons lighting could be described as lightening.  Which is interesting considering Kuklakan was the Mayan god represented by a feathered serpent, also the god of the aristocracy, which would aptly describe the Goa'uld and would explain the preponderance of the serpent carvings throughout the city."

Chris patiently waited for the archeologist to continue.  He had heard the scientist often developed outlandish and fantastical theories which more times than not became true.  He was amazed Doctor Jackson had been able to translate the first tablet and was completing the second tablet.  Although the ancient alien carvings were pleasing to the eye, Chris had no concept of the figures actually representing something. 

"Now, here, this says," Daniel paused, as his right hand traced over the figures, "yes.  It says the supreme sacrifice was humans, or the natives here, we shouldn't assume they're human without physical proof,  their blood was essential to sustain the gods.  The victims were naked," he paused at one section showing kneeling figures before an elaborate bedecked standing figure, obviously wearing a cape, jewelry and a feathered headdress, "painted blue, slit open to draw blood and thrown into the, I can't quite translate...yes, thrown into the well of sacrifice."

"The Stargate?" Chris offered.  From his orientation upon assignment to the Stargate program, he recalled reading many of the to date encountered off-world cultures, mostly primitive humans, often worshiped the Stargate or the Goa'uld who had transplanted and then abandoned them on these worlds.

Doctor Jackson favored him with a quizzical look, his right index finger pointed upward. "I wonder..." he moved to the third tablet.  "The sacred cenote is the well of sacrifice." He again faced the major.  "Now that's an interesting hypothesis, Major.  The natives could associate the Stargate with the cenote.   Since only the gods would know how to activate the Stargate, they may have tossed sacrifices into the cenote to emulate someone going through the Stargate, or seeking to appease the absent gods, or Goa'uld, in hopes they would return to the planet."  He grinned at Chris.  "That's very insightful of you Major, thank you."

"Glad to be of assistance, Doctor Jackson," Chris said. He had no idea what the archeologist was talking about.  The archeologist, however, was already engrossed in translating the third panel of carved hieroglyphs.  Hill's radio crackled, and Singh’s' voice filtered through.

"Major Hill.   This is Singh."

Chris moved to stand outside the temple room, his binoculars to his eyes, bringing into view the distant figures of his team before he activated his radio.   "This is Hill.  What is it, Vijay?  Check in isn't for another ten minutes."

"Yes, sir.   But, well, you'll think maybe we're a little spooked, sir.  But both Kaleb and I have our sixth sense going.  We think we're being watched but...Nothing to support it, just a feeling, sir."

Damn , Chris thought.  This is not what he wanted to hear.  The mission had been going so well.  He and Singh had served together for a time, even before they were both assigned to the Stargate program. In fact, Chris had requested the sergeant be transferred to Cheyenne Mountain and become a member   of his team.  He glanced over his shoulder to the oblivious archeologist writing in his field journal.  The CO again focused his attention on his distant team.  He trusted Singh and his feelings.  If he said they were being watched, they were being watched, whether by two legged, four legged or whatever legged manner of life forms.   It would be his call to make.  If he thought the danger was life threatening, he could end the mission early and return to the SGC.  He knew if he didn't return Doctor Jackson in perfect health Colonel O'Neill would eat him for lunch, while the other members of his team would serve as appetizers for Teal'c.

"Message received," Chris spoke into his radio, keeping his voice low so not to carry to the working civilian.  "Be vigilant.  How much longer before Parker is finished with her survey?" There was no immediate answer as he watched Singh converse with the kneeling Parker.  The CO's radio issued some static before he heard Singh's voice.  

"She says about another hour, sir." 

Chris looked skyward.   They were on the down side of the day.   He could call it with approximately two hours of daylight remaining.  No doubt Doctor Jackson would protest but he'd just have to put his boot down and get the man back to camp.  He wanted to re-evaluate their security and safety.

"Understood," Chris finally spoke into this radio.  "When completed, return to base camp.   We may have to reassess our mission.   Hill out." 

He turned to inform Doctor Jackson of the change in plans only to bump into the man who was standing directly behind him.

"You're thinking the natives may be nearer than we realized," the archeologist stated.

"How did you.." Chris began then became silent when he saw the civilian point to his own radio seated in his vest.

"Okay.   I'll be finished with what I have to do here within the hour.  Or, you just tell me when you're ready to leave and we'll leave."

"Thank you, Doctor Jackson."

"Not to question Sergeant Singh's feelings, but, it's probably nothing," the archeologist reassured before returning to where his notebook and video camera lay before the engravings.

"Yes," Chris muttered. "That's probably exactly what SG-5 thought, too, before it all fell apart."  

"Maybe we should do a recon of the area, see if we can discover signs of anything, or anyone," Kaleb suggested.  He maintained his vigilance, P90 aimed, his finger on the trigger, surveying the imposing jungle surrounding them and encroaching on the ancient city.    He was somewhat nervous but this only heightened his senses and focused his awareness on his surroundings, prepared for any threat, if it came.

"No, we should stay here, finish the survey and then return to base camp ASAP," Parker ordered as she scooped up her last soil sample.  "I'm finishing up my last sample for the day."

"Damn, I knew the past few days was too good to be true," Walters stated, a tightening to his voice.

"Now we don't know anything.  Could be nothing.   It could be we're just letting our imaginations get the better of us, " Vijay advised.   He, too, kept diligent vigil.

"Yeah, or it could be some creature sizing us up for lunch," Walters countered.   "Need I remind you that has happened to the good doctor before," he said speaking directly to his fellow sergeant.

Singh merely nodded resuming his visual reconnaissance as Parker gathered her equipment for the trek to their base camp. 

Frustrated, Daniel snapped closed Crutails Notations and laid the leather bound book on his scattered aerial survey photos of P6T-348.

"Problem, Doctor?" Major Hill asked. 

He was seated beside Lieutenant Parker filling out his report log for the day's activities.   Parker was busy labeling her soil vials for the next day's survey.  Walters was patrolling their camp perimeter outside the motion sensors.   Both he and Singh were still uneasy and jumpy, swearing their sixth sense was warning them they were being observed but nothing physical to support this had been discovered.   Singh was busy dismantling and cleaning his P90, but he would often pause and scrutinize their darkening surroundings.   He was searching and listening for anything unusual.

"It's frustrating," Daniel answered Hill's inquiry.   "Crutails Notations do not have references to several of the glyphs I've discovered in the temple.  Of course, some of the accepted translations maybe incorrect. Unfortunately, I can't correspond with the editors to let them know."   Daniel sighed, removing his glasses, and pinching the bridge of his nose.  "If this planet is proven a viable source for naquadah and trinium mining, someone else will return here for an extensive archeological survey."  He replaced his glasses and grinned.  "I apologize.   Usually by now, Jack is again reminding me SG-1 is a first contact field team, not a research team."

"Must be annoying having learned all you have in the past five years about human cultures and not being able to tell the world about them," Linda observed.

"In the beginning, yes.  But now, my priorities have changed.  It's not important."

"Destroying the Goa'uld is," Hill added.

"Yes."

"So, Doctor J," Walters asked, pausing in his circuitous route around the camp, "would you ever leave SG-1?"

"Not voluntarily, no."  Daniel looked directly to the sergeant.  He was pleased the soldier had spoken the less formal address many of the military personnel used.   "Why?  SG-11 recruiting an archeologist to join the team?" he asked, the faint grin returning.

"Well, things have gone smoothly so far.  Maybe we'll break that curse."

"I hope so," Daniel seconded.  His gaze moved from the pacing Walters to Singh, still occupied with cleaning his P90.

After a few moments, Singh sensed he was being observed and looked up from his task directly into the curious blue eyed gaze of the archeologist.

"Sir?" Singh asked.

"Oh....ahh, sorry," Daniel quickly apologized.  "Is it okay for me to watch you work?   I've only handled a machine gun once.   It wasn't a resounding success and afterward Jack swore he'd never let me touch one again.   Lately I've been pestering him trying to convince him I should learn how to use one."

Singh's brown hued brow furrowed in confusion.  "Ah, sir, no disrespect intended, but maybe Colonel O'Neill is right, you being a civilian."

Daniel raised his right index finger.  "I see your point.  However, to protect my team to the best of my abilities may require having to fire the machine gun.   I don't have to be an expert marksman, just hit whatever may be threatening us and avoid hitting my teammates."

Singh thought for a moment then shrugged his shoulders.  "Sure, glad to, sir.  Here," he held out the partially dismantled weapon.  "I'll let you reassemble the gun while I tell you what part goes where."

"Really?"   Daniel eagerly stood and carried his camp stool over to place it next to Singh.  He accepted the framework of the to-be-assembled P90.  

While the two men worked, Linda glanced at her obviously tense and worried CO.   "Sir?"

Chris focused his troubled blue eyed gaze on his 2IC.  He clearly understood her unspoken query.  "I need a sounding board, Linda."

"Part of my duty as your second, sir."

"Should I scrub the remainder of the mission and get us home?"

"Based on what, sir, an uneasy feeling?  I'm not confident that excuse will be accepted by the general."

"I know.   But when is the success of the mission of a higher priority than the lives of those conducting it?"

"Not to interrupt," came Doctor Jackson's voice.  He slipped the final piece of the P90 into place and handed the reassembled gun to Singh for inspection.  "From my perspective, never.  However, I've learned situations occur where sacrifice of a life is essential to a mission's success.  If you don't mind advice from a non-military person," he paused.

"Please, Doctor Jackson," Chris encouraged.

"You wouldn't have been given command of an SG unit if there was any doubt of your command abilities.  If you don't question, don't consider all the options, even the fantastical ones, you're not performing your duty to the best of your ability.  I've seen Jack have moments of indecision."

"Has he ever made a command decision based on a feeling?"

"Several times.   Sometimes, based only on the word of a certain archeologist.  I trust and believe in Jack's military instincts."

Chris gnawed at his lower lip, thinking.  Finally, decision made, he addressed his waiting team.  "All right.  Let's stick it out one more day.  If we still feel uneasy tomorrow, we bag the mission and go home.   I want us to pair up for watch duty in four hour shifts tonight."

"I'll volunteer to pair off with Doctor Jackson," Singh offered.  He faced the archeologist.  "Nice job, sir," he praised.  "Reassembled exactly the way it should be."

"Really?   Oh, that's great.   Now show me how to load, aim and fire it."

****

DAY TWO M4C-862

Teal'c watched with curiosity as the agitated scientists strode to the lab building, their angered protests at being refused permission to explore the caves, heard by his sensitive ears.  Once the three men were inside, he focused on O'Neill.  The colonel was as still as stone, but Teal'c knew his friend was angered at having his orders questioned.  The sunglasses hid his glare but also enhanced O'Neill's ire.

"Should we not explore the caves as Doctor Hamilton requested, O'Neill," he ventured.

There was a long silence before the human answered.  "We will," he said tersely.  "When I feel it's prudent and not a moment sooner."

"I do not understand.  Have you not often reprimanded DanielJackson for trespassing where it was unwise to do so?   Are not these scientists behaving in the same manner?"

"That's different.   Daniel always has a reason for wandering off.  These...scientists do it to be deliberately annoying. And it ain't gonna work, you understand?"

Decision made, he sat and resumed maintenance on his P90.  Teal'c remained at attention while he once again attempted to understand the unusual mannerisms of the Tau'ri.  Failing to achieve an answer, he speculated on how much longer O'Neill would allow Doctor Hamilton to live.

Several hours later, as he accompanied O'Neill through the forested landscape away from the caves toward the scientific outpost, Teal'c noted how reserved his friend was.

"You seem disappointed that we found nothing, O'Neill."

"No.   I just wanted him to be wrong so that he would be wrong and if he was wrong we'd have something to do."

Teal'c considered the rambling explanation.  "I see."

They walked a few more steps, then O'Neill paused.  "You hear something?"

"Indeed."

Teal'c had heard the unfamiliar buzzing and became instantly alert to any possible threat.   He and O'Neill spied the flitting, glowing green dot simultaneously.

"I have never before encountered anything like it," he informed his friend.

"Cool."

They watched the darting object for a few entranced seconds. 

"Now I really wish Daniel was here.  He could communicate with it and probably be having a wonderful, we're your friends, we're peaceful explorers conversation right now."

"I, too, do not doubt DanielJackson's talents in such matters."

"Well, since he's not here, why don't you try smiling at it Teal'c."

"Perhaps we should inform Doctor Hamilton of our discovery."

O'Neill sighed.   "Yeah, I guess you're right. Give them something to do and stay out of my hair.  You know, Teal'c, I sometimes get irritated with Daniel and Carter..."

"You are incorrect, O'Neill," Teal'c interrupted.  "You are, in fact, often irritated with DanielJackson and Major Carter."

"No, I'm not," O'Neill indignantly denied.  "They are never, I repeat, never as conceited and arrogant as these.....scientists."  He pronounced the last as it if left a disgusting aftertaste in his mouth.

"As you say, O'Neill."

****

MORNING DAY THREE   M4C-862

"Good news, Teal'c," O'Neill announced as he strode into the courtyard of the off-world base.  

Teal'c immediately noticed there was a lightness to O'Neill's stride which had been absent since their arrival on M4C-862.

"Just got word during the morning check in," O'Neill continued when he stood before the Jaffa.    "Carter's coming to join us.  And she's bringing a friend along, a scientist wannabe."

Teal'c's face softened.   "This is indeed, good news, O'Neill."

"Yeah, we don't have Daniel to run interference, but Carter'll do just as well, keep that Hamilton in line.  I'm off to wait at the 'gate and escort them in.  Keep an eye on things, will ya?"

Teal'c tilted his head in compliance.

*****

LATE DAY FOUR   P6T-348

"This is Hill.   Can you read me, Walters?" the major's voice sounded over the radio.

"Coming in clear, sir."

"We're finished here and returning to the base camp.  There's still three hours of daylight remaining so we'll allow Doctor Jackson to continue working until dusk."

"Understood, sir."  Walters clicked off his radio and turned to face into the temple interior.   "You hear the major, Doctor J?"

Daniel waved that he had and resumed his theorizing.  The archeologist sat cross legged before the three tablet panel in the wall of the temple sanctuary.  He was well aware of the pacing of Sergeant Walters behind him.  Actually, the clomping of military boots echoing off the stone floor was rather annoying.  Daniel tolerated it because he realized the sergeant was on edge as were the remainder of SG-11.   Major Hill had decided to alter the division of labor today, choosing to remain with Sergeant Singh and Lieutenant Parker and assigning Sergeant Walters to guard duty of the archeologist.   Daniel could understand the major's tactic.  This way he would be away from the deserted city and able to ascertain for himself if the uneasy feeling of being watched posed a real threat to their survey mission.   He was trying to find the balance between the safety of the team and successful completion of his mission.   If they returned early to the SGC based on nothing more than a feeling of being watched, well, it would not go well for the fledgling team.  Their integrity would be questioned as well as their ability to perform off-world missions as a team.  It certainly would do nothing to break the SG-11 curse. 

"How's it coming, Doctor J?"  Walters asked, pausing to stand behind the seated archeologist. 

A ghost of a grin flitted across Daniel's stubbled face.  At least he had broken the ice somewhat with the sergeant. "Well, I've finished my translation of the three tablets.  I'm theorizing at the moment."

"Yeah?   About what?"

"Well, the mysteries of the Mayan civilization.  We have no clue to where the Maya originated or how their civilization evolved and flourished in so hostile an environment to human habitation.  Then, just as quickly," he snapped his right thumb and forefinger, "they vanished.  Their mathematical system was highly advanced and they did create the zero, which I'm told all advanced civilizations eventually do.  It's a science thing, apparently.   We've often speculated the Antarctica gate was the first gate placed on Earth, possibly by the Ancients. The Giza gate was brought to Earth by Ra.   The gate address to this planet came from the Ancients library, not the Abydos cartouche.   It's possible the Mayan ancestors came from this planet, fleeing a Goa'uld invasion, via the Antarctica Stargate, which may explain the Goa'uld carvings we've seen here in the city ruins.  The Mayans may have left Earth to colonize another planet, which could explain how we met Quetazalquatl on the planet housing the Crystal Skull."  Daniel paused and peered over his shoulder.  "What do you think, Sergeant?"

The poor man looked polaxed, Daniel thought.  Jack had warned him not to go over one hundred words a minute he recalled.   His impromptu lecture would only reinforce his reputation of talking continuously on topics no one but he understood while subsequently boring or confusing any one unfortunate enough to be within hearing range.    

"I'm sorry, Doctor, I have no idea what you're talking about," Walters admitted, a slight frown marring his own stubbled face.

"That's okay.   Most times I don't either."   Daniel stood taking up his video camera.  "All I need is to video this fourth wall panel and we can go over to the second pyramid temple."  He held the camera to his face and tried to activate it but nothing happened.   Lowering the device, Daniel immediately noted he needed a fresh video cartridge.  "I need to get a new cartridge from the FRED," he announced walking toward the nearest exit and one of the four steep staircases. 

"You stay here, sir.  I'll go," Walters volunteered.  Before Daniel could protest the sergeant was gone, quickly disappearing from view but his clambering down the steep stone steps echoed in the desolation.  

Daniel busied himself with unloading the video camera.  Task completed, he shivered noticing the binary suns were slowly descending.   The air temperature change indicating night would soon arrive.  He bent over and retrieved his jacket putting it on before hefting his heavy vest and backpack shrugging into the garment. 

Two more days remained for him to study the ruined city and be a practicing archeologist.   Of course, this depended on Major Hill deciding to remain and complete the mission.   He wondered again how Jack was faring on M4C-862.    Daniel realized he had gotten the better of the two assignments when he convinced General Hammond to allow him to accompany SG-11 on this planetary survey.  Two more days to complete and SG-11 could return triumphant to the SGC proving the curse was no more than talk.  Two more days and he could prove having Doctor Daniel Jackson assigned to another SG unit was not the kiss of death.    

****

MORNING DAY THREE M4C-862

"Have you heard from Daniel?" O'Neill asked his 2IC as they walked along the newly beaten path leading from the moon's Stargate toward the science base.

"Yes, sir.   Major Hill completed his regular daily check in with the SGC and sent their latest batch of soil samples, well I guess it was this morning SGC time before Cadet Halley and I embarked through the Stargate.  Their mineral survey was going smoothly, and he said Daniel had made significant progress in his translations and investigations of the ruins in the city.   Should be an interesting report when they return."

"You're sure he said everything was fine?"

"Yes, sir.   A very successful mission so far."   Sam favored her CO with a quizzical look.  "Sir, you aren't saying---"

"Nope," O'Neill interrupted briskly with a slicing motion of his right hand for emphasis.   "I'm not saying and I'm not thinking anything."

"Yes, sir."

****

LATE AFTERNOON DAY FOUR P6T-348

The sudden cacophony of blood curdling screams tore through the silence like nails raking across a blackboard.  Walters, trained to react to any unexpected attack, was so startled he dropped the video cassettes he had taken from one of the FRED's storage containers.   He quickly deduced the sounds were coming from the direction of their base camp.   When his radio began issuing hurried orders he knew SG-11 was in big trouble with a capitol T.   Apparently the curse, for both SG-11 and Doctor Jackson, would play itself out once again.

"...Walters...under attack.....camp..." Hill's agitated voice issued from the sergeant's radio.  "...get .....Doctor....stargate....send backup..."

Walters waited only a few seconds longer for any additional messages but none came.   He activated his radio while running toward their base camp and shouted his own orders into the communication device.

"Doctor J, base camp under attack!!!.  Get your ass back to the Stargate and get backup!!!  Major's orders!  I'm going to see about my team!!" 

From his secluded perch atop the temple, Daniel had an unhindered view of the invasion occurring below in the plaza.  When Major Hill's first frantic message burst from Daniel's radio, he'd been so startled he dropped the empty cam corder. 

It shattered on the solid rock floor.

In that first moment of stunned shock, Daniel stared dumbly at the scattered pieces before the adrenaline created by anxiety surged through him.  He quickly reined in his emotions as he moved to the temple entrance and spied a horde of naked, spear laden, primordial humans swarm over and around their now devastated base camp.  Lifting his binoculars in trembling hands,  he could see three members of SG-11 valiantly fighting their attackers.   They were soon overtaken by shear numbers.  The soldiers were still alive, Daniel noted as the natives disarmed and bound their beaten, overwhelmed prey. 

For a second time, Daniel was jolted when Sergeant Walters radio message came bursting forth from his radio.  He instinctively turned down the volume, not wanting to give away his position.  Hearing the sergeant's subdued but frantic orders, Daniel turned to glance at the Stargate considering for one millisecond whether to follow the orders or not.  The Stargate was   surrounded by a second batch of natives effectively quashing any ideas of gating to the SGC for reinforcements.   Not that Daniel ever seriously considered abandoning SG-11.  No one is ever left behind.  End of story.   A smaller crowd of the natives broke free of the main gathering around the gate, awkwardly carrying the unwieldy MALP in their midst. 

Attention turned towards the demolished base camp, the scientist attempted to locate the avenging Sergeant Walters through his field glasses.  Daniel saw the soldier fall under another onslaught of natives.   This was a nightmare, he thought grimly.  Apparently the two sergeants' sixth sense of being watched proved prophetic.  Or, maybe there was something to that curse business after all he idly thought before chiding himself for even wasting time considering it.   SG-11 was in trouble, his team, and they needed his help. 

Daniel lowered the binoculars for a moment his right hand resting on the holster of his side arm.  "Okay," he told himself refocusing the field glasses with his left hand.   "This is what Jack says is risk assessment.   One man going into that mass of humanity armed only with a handgun is not going to rescue anyone.   Everyone in SG-11 are military trained.   They know in these situations their goal is to stay alive, to wait for rescue or attempt escape if the opportunity presents itself."  It sounded logical when he recited the litany out loud.  Yet he was tempted to rush to their rescue as he watched from the safety of his perch.   Having observed Jack in these situations over the past five years, Daniel knew he had to be patient, gather intelligence and then plan his strategy.  Right now all he could do was remain where he was, undiscovered, watch and pray.

Eventually, the surging mob arrived at their destination, the cenote.  As the MALP was slowly inched closer and closer to the edge of the sinkhole, Daniel suddenly realized what was to come.   He lowered the binoculars and glanced toward the first tri-part inscribed panel he had translated.  Oh no, his mind screamed. 

Again looking through the field glasses, he saw the MALP teeter on the stony edge.   One more coordinated push by the natives and the probe tumbled over the rim.  A few seconds of silence passed before it splashed into the mucky water rapidly sinking from view.  A hodgepodge of camp items followed, including tents, bedrolls, and folding stools disappearing under the watery surface.   

A second tense silence ensued before Daniel noticed a commotion in the crowd.   He could faintly hear yelling and shouting wafting up to his perch.  The crowd settled and someone was dragged before one native whom Daniel noticed with his anthropological eye was dressed similar to a Mayan upper caste priest or chieftain compete with flowing robe and feathered head dress.   The natives had forced someone to their knees before the priest.  He was reciting something and lifted a nasty looking dagger.   The kneeling figure was forced to stand, bound hands held away from a blue tinged body.  Daniel's insides clenched as he realized it was Lieutenant Parker, a very nude and dyed blue, Lieutenant Parker.  With a   flash, the knife slashed toward the captive soldier.  Daniel's breath caught.

"No, no," he muttered.

To hell with threat assessment he thought taking several steps toward the staircase.   He paused.  His held breath blew out.   Linda wasn't dead.  The knife had only sliced open her left forearm, a nasty wound yes, but not immediately life threatening.  With an accompanying roar from the crowd, she was hauled forward and unceremoniously tossed into the black slime of the cenote.   Daniel saw her twisting form splat before sinking below the rippling surface.  

"C'mom, c'mon, Linda, get to the surface," Daniel encouraged, his face still grimaced from imagining the stinging impact as her body hit the water.  

Again he exhaled a breath he was unaware of holding as he saw her slime covered head bob above the water surface.  In quick succession her three male, blue dyed nude teammates endured the same preparation and were manhandled to the edge of the sacred well before being tossed in.   Soon a cluster of four bobbing heads struggled to stay above the miasma of the cenote.   

Their ceremony completed, the natives began to disperse once more into the mountain jungles   surrounding the ancient city.   With hope rising, Daniel moved to the opposite side of his hideout.  His hope was immediately quashed when he noticed the second crowd milling around the Stargate were not leaving.  Instead, they had started some fires and appeared to be settling in for the night.   He could only assume since the natives had offered their sacrifices to the cenote, the gods would be pleased and honor them with a visit.

Cursing under his breath, Daniel returned to his original position.  He watched with mounting pity as the four members of SG-11 struggled to stay alive. 

"All right, what do we have and what do we need," Daniel said softly.   "I have to think like Jack.  SG-11 needs to be rescued followed by a diversion so we can go home through the gate.  What we have is one scared shitless archeologist and ..." Daniel glanced down.   The setting suns were nearly atop the western mountains when he saw a shimmer of metal in the fading light.   For the first time since this horror had began, he felt a glimmer of hope.  "And one fully functional and fully loaded FRED."  

The all purpose hauler remained motionless where they had parked it on their first full day, at the base of the pyramid concealed by several walls and part of a stone alter.   "Stay alive, guys, I'm coming," he ordered the members of SG-11.

With hand gun drawn, Daniel stealthily inched down the steep staircase, staying to the wall and the concealment the darkening shadows offered.  He probably could have moved faster but he was so afraid of being observed, thus eliminating any chance SG-11 had of survival.   Jack's voice lectured in his mind, constantly harping on remaining in control in these situations.   Rash actions got people killed, even the ones you were trying to save.  If you are their only hope, you had to keep yourself alive and free.  

After what seemed like eons, Daniel finally arrived at his destination.  The binary suns had now slipped behind the mountains and the nighttime dusk was quickly darkening the ruined city accompanied by a dramatic drop in air temperature.  A quick scan confirmed he was alone and undetected.  Holstering his sidearm, Daniel carefully opened the FRED's compartments taking inventory.

"I will never again complain about the illogic of the military mindset to unnecessary duplicate everything," he muttered setting aside several canisters of foot powder.  "Except for maybe the foot powder."

His search was quickly rewarded.  A pile of items began to accumulate beside him.  These included one coiled black nylon rope, a climbing harness, several metal hand grips, and four thermal blankets.

Daniel opened another compartment and took out the three extra field first aid kits.   "Thank you for the curse," he said removing his vest.  He opened the kits and took out what items he would need and secured them in the many vest pockets.   He slipped the bulging vest onto his back. 

Finally, Daniel opened the last compartment and took out one partially dismantled P90, and two small metal boxes, one labeled Ammo and the second C4.  In the twilight, he assembled the P90 recalling Sergeant Singh's instructions.  The assembly wasn't accomplished in record field time, but the final product would function.   Daniel allowed himself a brief moment of pride for his efforts and a reminder to resume pestering Jack on teaching him how to handle the rapid firing weapon when he returned to the SGC.   They were returning, he told himself.   All of them, alive.  

Armed with the metal box of C4 and the unfamiliar weight of the P90 clipped to his vest front, Daniel blended into the darkening night.  He hoped he would not have to kill anyone, but saving the lives of SG-11 was paramount. 

"Just stay alive, guys, I'm coming," he ordered his adopted teammates.

****

SGC

"Off world activation!!  Incoming traveler!!"

Master Sergeant Walter Davis' announcement boomed from the base's PA system.   This immediately initiated the routine gate room procedure as armed SF's rushed in, guns pointed to the activating Stargate anticipating the worse.

General Hammond hurried from his office into the control room. 

"No IDC code received, General," the sergeant answered anticipating the commander's question.

The anxious seconds ticked away.  The sergeant leaned toward his console.  "Receiving code now, sir.  It's SG-1."

"They're not due back," Hammond commented.  Before he could continue speaking, the protective iris dilated open and Davis was on the PA again requesting a medical unit respond to the gate room.

Unfortunately, this was status quo with SG-1, George thought as he hurried down the metal stairs to join the attentive SF's in the gate room.  Figures began to spill from the rippling wormhole.   The scientists from M4C-862 were in the lead, followed by Teal'c physically assisting an obviously injured O'Neill.  Major Carter and a wide eyed Cadet Halley were the last to arrive.

As the wormhole collapsed and the iris dilated closed, Hammond went to speak to the now seated O'Neill, who was grimacing in pain.

"Colonel?   What happened?"

"It was the most courageous act I've ever witnessed, General," Doctor Hamilton interrupted, awe highlighting his words as he favored O'Neill with a look of admiration. 

The arrival of Janet and her medical staff precluded any further discussions.   Hammond stood away from the swarming masses, paternally watching as the scientists and a protesting O'Neill were escorted from the gate room. 

"Major Carter, Teal'c," he addressed the two remaining members of SG-1.   "What happened?"

"We were attacked by those green glowing energy beings the colonel reported they had discovered on M4C-862," Carter immediately answered.

"Doctor Thompson is dead, General," Teal'c added, his voice and facial expression grim.   "We could not retrieve the body."  

"Could we debrief you, sir, after we check on Colonel O'Neill's condition?" Carter asked.

"Before you go," the general began, paused, then continued.  "SG-11's check in is now six hours overdue."

"Sir?"

"General, permission to travel to P6T-348," Teal'c volunteered.

Hammond raised his right hand.  "I'm not prepared to assume the worst just yet.  This is SG-11's first solo mission.  I'll have Sergeant Davis try to raise them via the MALP's radio.  If we haven't heard anything in six more hours, I'll send SG-2."

"Permission to---"

"Granted, Major.   Go check on the colonel.   I'll leave it to your discretion whether you tell him about SG-11 being overdue for check in."

****

NIGHT DAY FOUR P6T-348

Chris could hear the off beat chattering of his teeth joined by those of his teammates.   It was dark now.   The air was getting colder.  If he could feel his body warmth and stamina leached away by the icy water they were trapped in, he knew his teammates were experiencing the same.  They chose to say nothing of their physical discomfort giving each other incentive.   They continued to struggle to elevate their heads above the stinking slimy water keeping alive their slim hope of rescue.    The CO increased his own treading keeping his head above the muck crusting the ice cold water stored in the cenote.  

"Keep kicking your legs, everyone.  That's an order," he gasped, feeling his chin dip below the ghastly smelling slime.  

A frantic splashing next to him indicated Parker was quickly losing her battle to keep her head above water. 

"Kaleb, help Parker," Hill hoarsely commanded. 

The four bruised and battered members of SG-11 tightened their hold on each other, Kaleb hefting to get Parker's head above the water.

"...no ...good...can't...." she whispered through chattering teeth.   "....tired...."

"Hold on, damnit!!"  Chris implored.

"She's right, Chris," Singh said, his hoarse voice reflecting the effort it was taking to keep himself afloat.  "We're done for.  The curse of SG-11 continues."

"I don't want to hear talk like that!" Chris snapped.  The brief surge of anger encouraged him to tread faster.   Damnit, his first solo off-world command was not going to end like this, he roared in his mind.    The anger, however, was quickly squashed by the reality he had no clue of how to save his team.  To worsen the situation, he'd lost Doctor Jackson.   A larger portion of his mind began to insist drowning here on P6T-348 was preferable to facing Colonel O'Neill and having to explain how he had failed to protect the archeologist.  He had royally screwed up.  He should have swallowed his pride and ordered the team to return to the SGC this morning.  They would be ridiculed for imagining things, but at least they would still be alive.

The four continued to tread water, fighting the fatigue overwhelming them and the aching pain shooting through their legs as their strained muscles became affected by continued use and immersion in the icy water.

Walters had long ago abandoned his attempts to chew through the bindings on his hands.   He lay his head back on the surface and took in again the brilliant array of unfamiliar stellar constellations overhead.  The alien stars would be the only witnesses to the demise of SG-11.

"What do you think happened to Doctor J?" he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Maybe he escaped through the Stargate," Singh gasped, trying to instill hope in his exhausted teammates.

"Hear that, Linda?   Hold on, now, helps coming," Kaleb encouraged his quickly succumbing teammate.  He had her bound arms over his neck, her drooping head resting on his left shoulder.  In any other circumstance being naked with a good looking woman like his 2IC would be a fantasy come true. Right now, the pressing of cold flesh only reminded him of how soon they would all slip beneath the stinking surface forever.

When Chris also began to flounder, Vijay moved to his friend's side.  He hooked his bound hands under the commanding officer's right arm.   "C'mon, Chris," the sergeant encouraged.  "Help is coming."

"That would be a first," Chris snorted his teeth clicking loudly.   "Doctor Jackson is notorious for not obeying orders.   He could be dead for all we know."

The major felt something bat his soaked head.  Thinking Singh had hit him, he lost his self-control and lifted his bound arms to smack his insubordinate sergeant, friend or not.  Instead, his nearly frozen fingers became entangled in what he at first thought were vines.  Grabbing hold of the offending web, he yanked and then realized what he held was not a vine but a climbing harness.

"What the hell..." he began.

"What is that, sir?" Kaleb asked, struggling to keep Parker's head above water.

"Is that what I think it is?" Singh asked, assisting his CO in untangling the harness.

"A climbing harness," Chris identified.

"Jackson, it has to be," Kaleb said hope rising.

"I don't care if it's Apophis himself at the other end, get Parker over here," the CO ordered.

Quickly the three male members of SG-11 struggled to get their naked and nearly unconscious teammate secured into the harness.  Finally done, Chris yanked several times on the black nylon tie line.    A second later, Parker's form began to inch upward toward the barely seen cenote rim.

The three men watched in the deepening gloom as their fourth was slowly pulled higher and higher, the odorous slimy water draining off her body to splatter on their upturned faces.  They saw her limp, unmoving body disappear into the darkness as she was hauled upward hopefully to safety and freedom.

"Why didn't he go get help?" Kaleb muttered between chattering teeth.

"Don't know.   Maybe we'll get to ask him," Chris answered, his breath coming in short gasps as his own chilled body increased its shivering.

When Daniel saw the bowed head and unmoving body of Linda Parker level with the cenote rim, he locked the hand braces in place.  Reaching over he grabbed the straps of the harness and hauled the semi-conscious woman over the rim onto the solid ground.  He quickly undid the harness and pulled her slime caked, blue streaked naked form to a near by tree.  He sliced apart the bindings on her wrists and wrapped a thermo blanket around the shivering body.

He gently patted her face, alarmed at how cold the skin felt to his touch.   "Parker, Linda, come on, stay with me here," Daniel urgently whispered.  The time for formality was over. 

His free hand felt the cache of prepared antibiotic syringes and he selected one.   Swabbing an area of skin clean on her right biceps he administered the shot.  Syringe empty he tossed it away.  He opened the blanket and did a quick inspection of the knife slash along the length of her left forearm from elbow to wrist.  It wasn't very deep and there was no time to tend to it now.   He tugged the blanket around her shivering form.  

"C'mon, Linda, wake up," Daniel encouraged, again tapping her cold cheek.   In the starlight, Daniel saw her struggle to open her eyes and try to focus on him.  "That's it.  How are the others, are they alive?"

"....yes..." she croaked.

"Thank you, God," Daniel exhaled.  "Okay, you stay right here.  Keep the blanket wrapped around yourself for warmth," he emphasized tugging the thermal blanket tighter.

He crawled the short distance to the cenote rim.  Unlocking the hand grips, the scientist tossed the harness and attached nylon rope over the edge to begin the process all over again.  He barely heard the harness smack the water and tensed, waiting for the next yank on the rope signaling another member of SG-11 was alive and ready to be rescued.

For the second time, the rescue harness came down slapping Chris on the head.  

"Great aim, Doc," he muttered again struggling to untangle himself and keep his chin above the water.  His legs were starting to cramp and he knew he was losing the battle.  "Kaleb, you're next," he ordered.

The sergeant came over to his CO.  "Sir, you should go next."

"No argument.   Jackson...up...there...alone....protect his...six...go."

Thankfully, Kaleb didn't argue further as he and Singh struggled to get the harness around him.   Finally secured, Chris weakly tugged on the line.  As before, a second passed before the line grew taunt and Walters was jerked upward a few feet.

Singh moved over to his floundering CO.  With a surge of strength, he brought the man against his chest, lifted his arms up then down, his bound wrists now around his friend's waist.

"Didn't know you were that kinda...guy..."Chris muttered.

"Don't get any ideas, sir.  Your number is the next trip up."

"Such insubordination.  No," Hill ordered, his voice weakening, "commander always last to go."

"Not this time, Chris," Vijay told his now unmoving friend.

The muscles in Daniel's forearms, back and biceps burned with effort.  Even in the chilled air, perspiration sheened his face and blotted his T-shirt.  When he considered pausing a moment to take a mini-break, Daniel saw the top of someone's head breach the cenote rim.  Exhaling loudly, he braked the hand grips locking the rope in place. Again, he reached over and grabbed the slime coated body and heaved once, then twice.   He fell onto his rump with the sprawled naked body of Sergeant Walters on top of him.

"Doctor Jackson," the sergeant wheezed, then coughed several times.   He quieted, "You're one hell of a soldier."

"Thank you," Daniel mumbled as he rolled the shivering naked sergeant off to the side.   He freed Kaleb from the harness before dragging him the few feet to join his teammate.   Daniel repeated his ministrations.   When completed, he gave the more aware Kaleb his hand gun.   "Think you can keep an eye on things while I get the other two?"

"Damn right.   Hurry though.   The major don't look so good."

Kaleb took the hand gun, fumbled with it for a moment, got it situated before he peered to his left, scanning the darkness for any threat.

Once again, Daniel tossed the harness over the rim of the cenote.  As he waited, he wiped the wetness from his forehead, rolled his shoulders, massaged the back of his neck and flexed his fingers.    For once, he was grateful Jack pestered him unmercifully to get to the gym and participate in their nearly daily workouts.   He felt the tugging on the line signaling the next member of SG-11 was ready for rescue.  With determination, Daniel gritted his teeth, unlocked the hand grips and pulled.  This was a greater strain than either of the two previous attempts.  Was he that physically exhausted already?   Didn't matter, he chided himself as he strained to pull the rope upwards.  He had made a promise to himself to do what he could to help this SG-11 succeed.   In so doing, they could break the curse which hovered around all of them. 

"Damn!" Daniel hissed straining to shorten the rope by another two feet.   "Didn't realize Singh weighed as much as Teal'c," he muttered groaning to pull up another two feet of rope.

Finally, when Daniel knew he would have to rest for a moment, he saw the dark outline of the third head by the cenote rim.  With shaking hands, he set the grip brakes and leaned over reaching out for the body.   It was now he saw the faint outlines of two dangling bodies and realized he would have to use the hand grips again.   He put all his effort into hauling the rope once, then twice before resetting the brakes.  When he turned back he saw Singh struggling to push the unconscious form of Major Hill onto the flat rocky ground.

"I've got him," Daniel whispered, hooking his hands under Hill's armpits and dragging the cold body over the cenote rim.

"See to..the major..." Singh could barely talk his teeth were chattering so badly.   "I'll..hang....around..here...look at the view...."

"I'll be back for you as soon as I can," Daniel assured, patting the slimy head.

"No doubt 'bout that, Doc," Vijay replied before coughing.

Daniel dragged the unresponsive Hill to where his two teammates were slowly recovering.   Once again he went through the same procedures of slicing the binding around Hill's wrists, wrapping the chilled major in a thermal blanket and injecting him with the pre-measured antibiotic shot.  He saw Parker was a little more aware and sitting up straighter, keeping the blanket clutched tightly around her naked body. 

"How are you feeling, Linda?" Daniel asked, reaching over to vigorously rub her covered shoulders and upper arms.

"B..better," she stuttered.

"That's good.   Here," Daniel retrieved his jacket and helped her put it on, zipping it closed to offer her more modesty.   "This should help some.   Can you rub the major's arms here, get him warm?  I still have Singh hanging by the rim."

Linda dumbly nodded and clumsily began to rub her CO's arms.  Satisfied with her efforts knowing physical activity would help both teammates, Daniel hurried to the rim and the dangling Singh.  

"Have you up in a second, Sergeant," Daniel whispered.

He pulled the line once drawing Singh's sopping head above the rim before reaching over and tugging as the sergeant pushed with his bare toes on the rock face sliding himself over the rim and into Doctor Jackson's welcoming arms.    

A few minutes passed as the archeologist for the last time performed the initial ritual on the fourth member of SG-11.  Once Singh was wrapped and given the antibiotic, Daniel retrieved the bandages and other supplies he had scavenged from the extra med kits.  Supplies laid at his knees, Daniel took Singh's left arm and began cleaning the viscous knife wound.

"Don't take this the wrong way, Doctor, but what the hell are you still doing here?" Vijay asked, his voice a hoarse whisper, grimacing as the antiseptic swabbed across the laceration.  "The major ordered you to retreat to the Stargate and get reinforcements."

"It's Daniel," the archeologist corrected in a low whisper as he worked.   "You know my reputation.  I'm a civilian, I don't always follow orders."   He began to quickly, but efficiently, wrap the sliced arm in a sterile bandage.  "My team was in trouble.  No one gets left behind."  He finished the wrapping and securely tied the gauze keeping the bandage in place.

Daniel moved to Walters.  The two sergeants exchanged the hand gun, Singh now entrusted with watching the nighttime for any threat as the scientist began to clean Kaleb's knife wound.

"That's all well and good, Doc--er, Daniel," Singh continued, "but the major's standing orders on this mission was to protect you."

"I know," Daniel admitted as he worked.  "The Stargate was, and still is, surrounded.  I never would have gotten through, even if that had been an option, which it wasn't."

"Because no one gets left behind," Kaleb repeated, now inspecting his bound arm.   He grunted in satisfaction and slipped it under the thermal blanket.  "I, for one, thank you for disobeying orders, Doctor J."

Daniel had moved to Major Hill.  He frowned, noticing the CO was still unconscious while  uncovering the man's left forearm.  Even in the nighttime darkness he could feel the arm was slick with blood.   Apparently, his knife wound had been more damaging than the others. 

"This is not good," Daniel whispered beginning to clean the bloodied arm.

"What?" Linda asked softly.

"The major's wound was deeper than yours.  Explains why he passed out," Daniel informed.  "I'll bind it as best as I can, but you'll be proud owners of Janet's needlework when we get back."

"If we get back," Linda stated.  "You said the Stargate was surrounded."

"It is.   Before I came to rescue you, I set out C4 explosives around the city, mostly attached to already damaged structures.   If I set the timer correctly, we'll have a on command distraction.  We can also hopefully activate the C4 before, if we choose.   Explosives are not my specialty. That's Jack's department."  He completed his ministrations on Chris and moved to Linda.

"You set C4 explosives."  This stunned statement was whispered by Linda Parker as Daniel began to treat her sliced forearm. 

"Yeah.   That's why it took me so long to rescue you.  I decided I had a better chance of success if I waited until it was dark.  Sorry to leave you down there for so long.   I know it wasn't pleasant.  I was hoping your military training wouldn't allow any of you to give up."

"Don't apologize, Doctor J," Kaleb said.  His whispered assurance was tinged with admiration.  

Everyone was silent as Daniel finished his ministrations.  Kaleb and Singh looked at each other in the starlight and realized they both had the same thought.

"Ah, Daniel," Vijay began.  "Where did you get all of this stuff?"

"From the FRED.   The natives never found it."

"Guess it wasn't such a bad idea to leave it by the pyramid after all," Kaleb admitted recalling how they had been against the good doctor's suggestion to do just that.

"But we still have a problem," Singh stated.  "We can get to the gate, we can dial home, but without an GDO remote, we can't send the code to open the iris.  We'll just splat ourselves to death."

"Ahh, no," Daniel countered.  "I have my GDO remote.  We'll send SG-1's signal."

"Doctor J, I could just kiss you, son," Kaleb proclaimed.  For the first time in a while, the members of SG-11 felt they would survive and return home.

"I'll pass on that offer, if you don't mind, Kaleb." Daniel reached for the P90 and held it toward Singh.  "I also assembled this.  You should check to see if I have all the pieces in the right place." 

Singh took possession of the rapid fire weapon while returning the handgun to Kaleb.  

"Ohh, here."   Daniel held forth the C4 control device.  "Probably should confirm we can detonate on command."

Singh busied himself with inspecting the weapons while Kaleb resumed his sentry duty, handgun cocked and ready.

Daniel meanwhile, lifted Linda's left foot into his lap and quickly wrapped it in one of his head bandanas.  Finished, he did the same to her right foot.

"I knew these would be useful," he muttered now wrapping Chris' feet.   "Not much protection, but better than being bare foot."

When the four feet of the two sergeants were dressed, Daniel sat and looked to the soldiers for guidance.  "So.....what now?"

"We get the hell off this planet, that's what now," Kaleb answered keeping his voice to a low whisper.

Singh slid the flat key device into the C4 hand control.  He watched the blinking readouts.  "We can detonate on command.  You did okay, Daniel," he praised softly.

A low moan indicated their CO was reviving.  Linda resumed her now vigorous rubbing of his covered arms to stimulate body heat.

"I agree, Kaleb," Vijay continued.  "But we can't run to the Stargate with these," he tugged at his cocooning thermal blanket, "flapping in the breeze."

"We could just go naked," Kaleb suggested.  "Be a bit embarrassing when we get home but we'd be alive."

"Maybe not."   Daniel crawled to the still reviving Hill and unwrapped his body.  Taking his own dagger he folded the blanket in half and cut a slit in the center of the fold.  Maneuvering the CO's head through the opening, he draped the blanket around the man.   Measuring out a length of the nylon rope, Daniel tied the make shift belt around Chris' waist.  "Offers both modesty and protection," he said eying his handiwork.

"I like it, Doctor J," Kaleb declared.  "Hand over your knife." 

A few minutes later, SG-11 were all dressed in their thermal blanket cum ponchos.   Daniel resumed assisting Linda in rousing the major, grinning when he noticed the man's eye lids flutter open.

"Doctor Jackson?" Chris croaked, before coughing.

"Hey, are you with us now, Chris?" Daniel asked rubbing the soldier's upper arms.

"Yes," Chris breathed.  "Vijay?"

"Right here," Singh said, clasping a hand on his friend's shoulder.   "We're all here, Chris, and we're all alive."

"Can you walk?" Daniel asked removing his hands. 

"I will," Chris declared.

"Good.   Because as I told my Unas friend, not that this hasn't been a hoot, but I really want to go home now," Daniel said.

"You heard Doctor Jackson," Chris whispered struggling to stand.   "He wants to go home."   

With the echoing booms of the C4 explosives fading in conjunction with the flaring of their ignition blasts, the five explorers remained crouched behind a stone alter, watching as the terrified natives fled from the Stargate and the DHD disappearing into the blackness of the night.  The unattended campfires dimly illuminated SG-11's hope for passage to home and safety.

"Okay, let's move out," Hill ordered, his voice raspy as he stood on unsteady legs.   He was held between Singh and Parker.   Chris was still woozy from his greater loss of blood but as the CO, determined to get his team home regardless of his own physical impairment.

Kaleb lead their stumbling advance to the waiting Stargate, his hand gun wavering but pointed in the right direction.  Daniel covered their six, the P90 resting uneasily in his hands.  He divided his attention between encouraging the three injured members of SG-11 to keep moving and constantly surveying the darkness surrounding them for signs of any threat.   The group had only traveled half the distance to the gate before the first bloodcurdling screams rent the night to be answered by responding yells.   They were surrounded.   Apparently the natives weren't as terrified of the C4 pyrotechnics as Daniel had hoped they would be.

"Kaleb, keep going!" he encouraged the halted sergeant barely visible ahead of the group.  "Get to the DHD, dial in the coordinates I wrote on the paper then send the iris code."

Daniel saw the soldier hesitate for a second, peering over his shoulder to his struggling teammates, before bolting forward swallowed by the darkness.

"Go with him, Daniel," Hill panted as Parker and Singh continued to stumble along with the semi-conscious CO between them.  "You have to get through the gate."

"We'll all go through the gate," Daniel stated releasing his left hand from the P90 to steady and support the CO.

Renewed screeching erupted from the blackness behind them.  Daniel felt the hairs on his neck tingle as he stopped and spun around.   He aimed the P90 skyward and fired a round of bullets.  The archeologist waited in the suffocating quiet, listening for any movement.   He didn't hear any.  Hopefully the noise of the machine gun frightened off the natives giving them time to escape.  He heard the clanking of the chevrons engaging, followed by the rumbling and the distinctive burst of wormhole forming energy as the Stargate activated.   The illumination from the event horizon cast a faint, eerie bluish glow in the vicinity. 

"Doctor Jackson, move your ass!!"  This command was shouted by Walters as he quickly tapped in the iris code on the GDO and watched as his three teammates hobbled past him ascending the incline to the waiting wormhole.

Daniel responded to the command by turning and running toward their salvation.   He never saw the upended paving stone until his right foot stepped into the gaping hole.  Now trapped, Daniel tripped and went sprawling smashing onto the solid stonework of the plaza.  The impact forced the air from his lungs along with a yowl of pain.   He had instinctively tired to brace his fall with his left hand but heard only a crack/snap before flaring pain traveled up and down his forearm.  He lost possession of the P90 and heard it skitter away into the darkness.   His glasses also went flying destination unknown.  A second pain bolted along his right leg and he felt an unnatural pull on his right ankle.   He moved and both felt and heard the joint snap.  His agonized cry matched the pain radiating from his damaged foot.

Kaleb heard Daniel's cry and looked over his shoulder.  He could barely see the outline of the archeologist sprawled on the ground.  

"Go, sir!" he shouted to Hill.  "I'll get Doctor Jackson!!"

He spun around and hurried as quickly as he could to the fallen scientist.

"No, go,.....go!" Daniel shouted.  His uninjured right arm waved away the nearing soldier before it began feebly tugging at his leg trying to free his ankle.

The trapped archeologist heard the rustling of the natives approach.  His blurring vision saw Kaleb arrive and drop to his knees.   The sergeant anchored the hand gun in his makeshift belt before he roughly grabbed at Daniel's lower leg and ankle and began to tug unmindful of the additional agony his actions were causing.   Daniel felt lightheaded, his vision clouding as the level of pain increased.

"No, get to the gate," he weakly protested through gritted teeth.

"Hey, Doctor J, no one gets left behind, remember?" Kaleb admonished freeing the entrapped foot.  Successful, the sergeant slid his hands under Daniel's armpits and hauled the barely aware archeologist to his feet before throwing the man over his right shoulder.   If it worked for Colonel O'Neill, Walters thought as he began an unsteady trot to the beckoning ripple of the wormhole not daring to look at the screeching commotion pursing him.

"Just hold on Doctor J," he huffed passing the DHD to begin the short climb up the ramp leading to the Stargate. 

Ahead, the sergeant glimpsed his three teammates swallowed by the active wormhole.   This gave him incentive and a burst of speed.   He rushed forward, tightening his hold on his precious human cargo and never slowed as he entered the flux.   The pursuing natives arrived at the sacred well as the event horizon dissipated.   Once again, darkness and silence shrouded the abandoned city.  

****

"Carter, you and Teal'c find him. You find Daniel and SG-11 and bring them home!" the agitated O'Neill commanded from his infirmary bed.

"Colonel, please lie still.  All this squirming will dislodge the IV needles," Janet implored her hands holding the one arm with the aforementioned needles inserted.

"I'll lie still when Daniel is right here and I can see for myself he's okay." O’Neill snapped.  He refocused his glare on his 2IC.  "Carter, go damnit!!"

"Yes, sir.   We're on our way."

Before the two kitted members of SG-1 could begin their trek to the 'gate room, the warning klaxons began blaring followed by Sergeant Davis' voice booming over the PA system.

"Unauthorized gate activation, incoming travelers."

Carter and Teal'c remained immobile and shared an expectant look. Davis' voice again boomed over the PA system.  "Receiving iris code."  There was an anxious pause.   "It's SG-1!   Medical Team to the Embarkation Room!"

Janet spared O'Neill a withering, warning glare guaranteeing a most unpleasant stay in her domain if he did anything to undo her handiwork before she joined her rushing staff responding to the summons.

"Didn't I order you to go!!" O'Neill barked at his two teammates.   They immediately joined the last of the departing medical staff rushing into the corridor and the waiting elevator.

O'Neill watched them disappear knowing his place was here.   Daniel was okay, he had to be okay, the curse be damned.   Same for SG-11.   They all had to be okay.  Please let them all be okay.  His glare settled on the slumbering Doctor Hamilton reclining in the bed opposite him.  They had better be okay.

Sam and Teal'c entered the crowded Embarkation Room in the wake of the last of the medical staff.   They fought their way through the corpsmen and nurses to stand behind the armed and attentive SFs.   Sam noted three bedraggled figures had just emerged from the active wormhole and collapsed in a heap on the metal ramp.   Suddenly someone, or something,   tumbled through the event horizon.   Their forward progress was halted by the massed humanity blocking the ramp.  Two distinctive figures sprawled over the human road block.   For an intense moment no one moved or spoke as the wormhole collapsed and the protective iris dilated close.   In the sudden silence, Sam heard ragged breathing and some low moans of pain before the quiet was shattered by a loud Texas shout.

"Yehaw!!! Thank you, God!!!! Thank you, God!!," a very relieved male voice shouted.   "Hot damn, Doctor J, we made it!   We're alive!"

"What...you thought we wouldn't?"

At the sound of Daniel's quieter, but tense voice, Sam and Teal'c pushed their way through the crowd to approach the tangled mass of humanity on the gate ramp.   At least, Sam thought they were human.   She saw four bedraggled, dirty, and was that some sort of blue dye?, stained figures haphazardly wrapped in thermal blankets in which lots of discolored skin was currently being exposed.   Behind them sat a fully clothed, but dirty, Daniel Jackson, protectively holding his left wrist and forearm to his chest.  One of the half naked figures leaned over and planted a wet one on the archeologist's dirt streaked forehead.

Daniel grimaced and pulled away from the enthusiastic demonstration.  "Please, Kaleb, not on the first date."

"Daniel, you are one damn amazing man!"  This declaration came from Sergeant Singh, Sam identified, entangled in the mass on the gate ramp.

"Major Hill, report!"

Hammond's arrival punctuated by the barked command immediately restored order and quiet.

"General, sir," a very tired, raspy voice began, "it's a long story."   The CO turned his blue streaked, dirty head to the archeologist sitting behind him.  "Short version, sir, Doctor Jackson saved our lives."

"I'll consider that to be your report for now.  Doctor Fraiser," Hammond addressed the petite woman, "get these people to the infirmary."

The chief medical officer nodded her understanding.  She and her well trained staff waded in and began their initial diagnosis.   They gently, but efficiently, lifted all five arrivals onto individual gurneys for transportation to the infirmary, including a protesting Daniel who insisted he could walk.   His protestations were soundly ignored as he was laid on a gurney, Sam and Teal'c at his side.   The three friends shared relieved smiles but remained quiet on the journey to the infirmary.

****

The rapid pounding of booted feet rushing down the corridor caused a momentary expectant pall over the various infirmary conversations.  Curious, everyone turned to watch for the new arrivals.   A few seconds later, their curiosity was satiated when several corpsmen bustled in rolling two gurneys between them. Other corpsmen followed escorting two additional gurneys holding the recently returned SG-11.

Jack levered himself from the reclining position in his own bed to a sitting position to get a better view.  He was still mindful, however, of the IV needles inserted into his left arm and the sterile bandages dotting his body where the energy beings had lasered him in their attack.   His face was grim when he recognized the members of the dirty, disheveled half naked team,   Major Hill amongst them.  He noticed the young officer was not looking in the best of shape.   Jack eyed the team members.   They looked awful.   They were obviously in pain.  There was no sign of Daniel.

"Okay, let's get these folks cleaned up.  They'll all need stitches and the full round of antibiotic treatments," Janet issued the orders in her no-nonsense tone of authority as she breezed into the crowded infirmary.  "The usual MRI exams.  All right, lets move."   Accompanied by their individual set of nurses and corpsmen, one by one the gurneys rolled past the anxious O'Neill and the other patients in the infirmary.

Jack felt fear grip his heart.  No Daniel.   No, no, Danny, please.   There was another commotion at the infirmary entrance.  Jack looked to see a fifth gurney was being wheeled in accompanied by a relieved Carter and Teal'c.  

"I can walk.   It's just a sprain," he heard Daniel complaining.

"Janet think's it's broken, Daniel," Carter stated as the gurney halted near O'Neill's bed.

The colonel's worried brown eyes took in the view.  All he could see were the two scuffed booted feet of the dirty, prone form, the right foot encased in an emergency air inflated cast.  Finally, one of the attendants moved away to search for Doc Fraiser and the patient was revealed.

"Daniel!" Jack shouted relieved.  "Damnit, what happened!" he demanded wincing with the exertion.    When he saw Daniel roll his dusty head toward him, he relaxed somewhat.  At least Daniel's eyes were open and he seemed to be responding to stimuli.   Daniel's grimy face, sporting several day's worth of stubble, however, frowned at him with disapproval.  

"Jack, this is an infirmary.  You're not supposed to be shouting."

"I'm not shouting," Jack denied.  "What did you do to yourself?"

Daniel lifted his head and winced but kept it hovering above the pillow.  "Why do you always assume I do anything to harm to myself?" he snapped.  Then his frown deepened, having taken in Jack's reclining white cotton gowned form.   "What happened to you?"

"It's a long story and don't try to change the subject."  Jack's eyes narrowed.  "What the hell did SG-11 do to you?"

"Jack, it's not their fault," Daniel interceded.  He dropped his head to rest against the pillows.

Jack noticed Daniel was clutching a swollen and discolored left wrist to his chest protectively.  

"Major Hill told me you never gave him "the talk," the archeologist continued.

"Come again?" Jack asked.

"You know, Jack.   The talk. The same talk you give every new SG commander before you allow me to go off world with them?   The one where you threaten slow dismemberment of their body parts if I'm not returned to you alive, unharmed, and no hair out of place."

"Daniel, I don't know what you're babbling about," Jack denied.

"Like hell.   Jack, you're the only one who mistakenly believes I'm unaware of what goes on around here." Daniel sighed, then the skin of his face not smudged by dirt became even whiter when a corpsman inadvertently bumped the gurney as he hustled past.

Jack noticed and immediately became concerned.  "Danny, what's wrong?"

"Nothing," Daniel denied between clenched teeth.  "I just sprained my wrist and ankle, that's all."

"We'll soon confirm or deny that diagnosis, Daniel," Janet stated.   She had suddenly rematerialized and was writing something in the medical chart which she set on the gurney beside Daniel's right knee.   "You're off to get X-rayed."   She nodded to two nurses who pushed the gurney from the infirmary.

"What the hell happened?" Jack directed his irritated query to Carter and Teal'c.  

"We don't know, sir.  All Major Hill could tell the general was Daniel saved their lives."

"Indeed," Teal'c seconded. "DanielJackson will have a most interesting tale to relay to us when he is able."

"Ya think?" Jack asked, impatiently settling in to wait.

Daniel lay in the semi-darkness of the base infirmary.  He focused on not moving so the throbbing in his casted left wrist and right ankle--both of which were broken as declared by Janet--would be tolerable.   Not only had his ankle been broken, it had required surgery and the insertion of several metal pins to repair. Daniel was going to be laid up for a long time.

Seeking a distraction, he focused on the uneven deep breathing and slight snoring echoing around him.  SG-11, safe, tended to, and stitched together as promised, were slumbering due to the effects of Janet's patented happy juice as Jack referred to it.  Listening, Daniel heard the faint click of an overhead lamp being turned on.  He opened his eyes and realized the dim light was coming from the direction of Jack's bed adjacent to his own.   Obviously, Jack was finding it as difficult as he to sleep.  Probably in pain from the wounds inflicted from those laser entity being things or whatever.   Or upset about their little argument earlier.  Daniel slowly inched his right hand upward seeking his own light switch, turned it on.

"Can't sleep either?" came the whispered question.

Daniel rolled his head to look into Jack's brown eyes.  "No.  Both my ankle and wrist are aching."

"Maybe you need a pain killer," Jack suggested.

"And you don't?" Daniel countered.

"Yeah, well you know me and drugs."  Jack laid his right arm across his eyes.

"So..., it must have been bad, being attacked by those green glowing energy beings?" Daniel prompted.  He could see the reddened, circular scars on Jack's face.  As soon as he was conscious, Daniel learned Jack had been stung at least eleven times by those creatures.  They had left at least twenty burns on his skin, marking the entry and exit path of travel through his body.  He had been very fortunate nothing vital was damaged.  Apparently Doctor Thompson hadn't been as lucky.   His body was stranded on M4C-862, declared irretrievable.

Jack exhaled loudly.   "Yeah, it was bad."

"I'm sorry, Jack.   I heard Doctor Thompson didn't make it."

"No, he didn't.   He was my responsibility and I didn't protect him.  Danny, it was my worst nightmare.  Everywhere I turned on that moon, scientists." Jack moaned covering his face with his right hand.

Daniel grinned, despite the seriousness of the situation his imagination conjuring an image of a harried Jack surrounded by demanding scientists all vociferously protesting at once.

Jack lowered his hand and turned a frustrated gaze toward the bedridden archeologist. "They were everywhere, except where I told them to stay.  They got into everything, always going off on their own, not doing what they were told. I blew it, Danny.  I shouldn't have let my prejudices cloud my judgment."

Daniel quickly sobered, his vision vanishing with the sound of remorse and self blame he heard in his friend's voice.  "That's not what I heard.  Doctor Hamilton has been singing your praises to the general ever since you returned.   You protected them, Jack.  Those were your orders.  You risked your life and got everyone else home.  You did your best, just like you always do. You could have been killed."

Jack stared at the dark ceiling for a moment before seeking out his friend again.   "I guess.   Thanks, Daniel.  You always get me to see things in another light."   He smiled.  "So, how are you doing, Danny, really?"

Daniel knew Jack had fulfilled his quota of touchy feely talk and was ready to move on to other business.  "Fine."   At Jack's disbelieving frown, Daniel amended, "Oh, well, you know, the usual."

"What a pair we are.  I can't let you go anywhere without me, can I?"

"Apparently not," Daniel agreed.  "Seems I can't let you go anywhere without me either."

"So, when I last saw you, you were dirty.  Did you find any rocks?"

"Artifacts," Daniel corrected.  "Yes, I did, in fact.  It felt so good to be an archeologist again, Jack.  Wait until I show you the videos of the temple inscriptions..."   Seeing Jack's long suffering look, Daniel said, "well maybe not.  My fun ended when the planet's indigenous population apparently took offense to our trespassing in their sacred city."

"So, Daniel."

"Jack?"

"Explain to me how SG-11 arrived here in a state of undress and you appeared fully clothed?"

"Well, it's a long story.  I'll let Major Hill tell it in the debriefing.  What's important is we all returned alive dismissing any notion of a Jackson Curse or that SG-11 is a cursed unit."

"Not that I ever believed in that crap," Jack denied, "but yeah, I think you did.   Now, who did you hear that crap from," he demanded, his ire raising the tone of his voice.  

"Shh, Jack," Daniel admonished in a harsh whisper.  "No one."

"Like hell.   I want names so I can send Teal'c to do bodily harm as I'm laid up at the moment."

"Jack, don't," Daniel said, hardening his own whispered tone.  "Besides, isn't that why you let me go, to prove to myself I'm not the kiss of death?"

"No.   I let you go because you wanted to go.   I was beginning to worry with everything that's happened to you this past year, if I'd ever see Daniel the archeologist again.  I also let you go to show I have confidence in you and I believe in you, Danny.  I always have.  How many times have I told you that?"

"Well, um, I, I guess I just like hearing it," Daniel admitted, embarrassed and pleased with the praise Jack offered.  "Like you said, we haven't had a very easy year."

"No, we haven't. But we're still here."

"Yeah," Daniel agreed.  He quieted to contemplate that amazing fact.  "As for SG-11," he resumed,  "they're a good team, Jack," Daniel defended his adopted teammates.   "They're not the cursed unit.   They've proven that."

"Yeah, well I'll reserve judgment on that until after the debriefing."   Jack tried unsuccessfully to stifle a yawn.  "Guess we'd better get to sleep before the Dragon Lady comes by and jabs our butts with big needles of happy juice."  He reached up and clicked off his bed lamp.

"Okay," Daniel agreed switching off his own light.  "Um, Jack, about me using a P90."

"That discussion is over, Daniel.  No," came Jack's whispered dismissal.

"But, Jack," Daniel wheedled.

"Daniel, no."

"But on the planet I had to assemble one in the dark before I could fire it.   Sergeant Singh said I did it correctly."

A few moments passed and Daniel thought Jack was either asleep or ignoring him.   Deciding he would have to raise the issue another time, he closed his eyes. 

"I'll think about it."

Daniel grinned, satisfied he had won the argument.

****

Christopher Hill, clad in military issue pajamas and robe, thick gauze wrapping around his slinged left arm, sat motionless in the blessed silence of the SGC chapel.   He was staring thoughtfully at the wall on which the engraved resin circles,  honoring all those who had died or were missing while in service to this program, hung.  He focused on one in particular, the one engraved with the gate symbol for Abydos.   If not for the unbelievable courageous actions of Doctor Jackson, his name and those of his teammates would be hanging on this wall.  The scientist was something else.  After this mission, Chris realized the real man was a combination of the bigger than life hero spoken of in the outlandish tales told by Major Ferritti, the reserved, modest, humble, but brilliant professor and one hell of a stubborn son of a bitch.    He was ashamed he even gave credence to a notion of a Jackson Curse.  Chris would not hesitate to have the archeologist temporarily assigned to his team in the future.  He, in fact, would consider it an honor.

"We thought we'd find you here."

Vijay's quite declaration caused Chris to turn his head to see his three similarly dressed and slinged subordinates file into the chapel and join him on the bench.

"Praying for strength to get through the debriefing?" Singh continued.

Chris nodded. "I suppose."

"Especially since I heard Colonel O'Neill will be present," Linda added.

"He's gonna eat us alive," Kaleb said, resigned to their fate.

"I don't think so," Chris disagreed.  "I inadvertently overheard Colonel O'Neill and Doctor Jackson talking in the infirmary last night.  We have a staunch defender in the good doctor."

"Yeah...what else did you hear?" Kaleb asked.

"Private conversation and it's going to stay that way," Chris said.   "I will tell you I don't know how those two can be friends."

Kaleb, Linda and Vijay all shared a guilty look.  None of them had confessed to reading Doctor Jackson's journal on the planet.  

"You know, I ask myself that all the time."

At the unexpected declaration, the four soldiers awkwardly stood at attention.

"At ease.   Don't stand on my account," O'Neill ordered as he gingerly sat his own pajama and robe clad form on the bench opposite SG-11.

"Sir," Chris began, remaining at stiff attention.  "I take full responsibility for not protecting Doctor Jackson.   I promised you I would keep him safe and I failed."

"Yes, you did," O'Neill concurred.  "Promise to keep him safe, that is."  His stern face softened.  "But I've been on enough missions to know Daniel instinctively gets himself into trouble no matter how hard I try to keep him safe.  It's his middle name, you know, trouble," the colonel joked.

"But, sir," Chris protested.

O'Neill's right forefinger waggled.  "Ahh, ahh.   Sit, Major.  Sit, all of you."

It was a command, not a request.  SG-11 complied.

"Field command is not an easy job, Major.  You make decisions based on the available information.  But the bottom line is, you completed your mission, sort of, you brought your team home, a little bruised, a little bloodied, but alive.   You did your best.  Me, I'm just glad Daniel had fun, as he defines it, and he's alive.   I came to say thanks for taking care of my archeologist."

"You did, sir?" Linda asked, astonished.

"What?   Did you think I came here to chew on your butts, or something?" O'Neill asked, his silvered eyebrows arched.   When no one answered, he continued.   "Ahh.  Well, there is one thing you can do for me.   You may have noticed Daniel will be confined to a wheel chair and the base for a time.  He's already giving Doc Fraiser a hard time about the backlog of work he needs to be doing.  He's going to need someone to be his hands and feet for a time, help get his lab decluttered as it were.   Know where I can find some volunteers?"

"We'll volunteer, sir," Chris offered grinning.

"You sure? Daniel can be a real pain in the ass," O'Neill warned.

"Not possible, sir," Sergeant Walters said.  "In fact, you hear of anyone badmouthing Doctor J, you just send them to me.  I'll straighten 'em out."

"I'll keep that in mind, Sergeant.  Well," the colonel stood slowly, his body movements stiff and a tightening to his face.   "We have a lovely debriefing to attend.   Say, you like pizza?" he suddenly asked.

The teammates shared cautious looks.  "Yes, sir, we all do," Chris answered for them, unsure where this was going.

"Good.   After the debriefing, Carter and Teal'c are going to get pizzas, no beer unfortunately, Doc's orders, popcorn and videos.   We're having a little team get together in one of the VIP rooms.  One of the movies will be the latest version of The Mummy, Daniel's favorite.   Personally, just between us, I think he gets off on telling us how out of context those hieroglyph thingies are.   Daniel insists you come and so do I."  O'Neill gave them an inviting smile.

"Thank you, sir.   We accept."

"Good. That way I can get the unofficial version of what happened on P6T whatever.   I'd better warn you though," he continued limping from the chapel, SG-11 following, "Daniel has adopted you.  You'd better be prepared for TLC Daniel Jackson style."

*****

Daniel limped into the Briefing Room, still having difficulty maneuvering with the walking cane.   He stood aside to allow SG-15 to depart, nodding in response to their greetings, the team having completed their briefing with General Hammond.  The general, in fact, noticed Daniel's arrival and waved the archeologist toward the oval briefing room table. 

"Doctor Jackson.   Good to see you mobile once again."

"Thank you, sir."  Daniel stood beside the table.  "General, I wanted to table a proposition for your consideration."

"I see.   Am I going to be subjected to another "I'm an archeologist" speech?" the older man asked.   His eyes, however, were twinkling and his face held an amused grin.

"Ah, no, sir," Daniel assured feeling his face color slightly.   "Well, sir, as you know, my monthly trip to P3X-888 is at the end of next week.  Doctor Fraiser believes I'll be cleared for gate travel by then.   I also know you haven't put SG-11 into the rotation yet.   So, would you consider assigning them as the permanent team who accompanies me to the planet to retrieve the video logs and perform the MALP maintenance?  They're a good team, General, and I feel absolutely safe with them."

"I can see that, Doctor.  I'll take it under advisement."

"Thank you, sir."

Satisfied, Daniel limped from the briefing room.  He had a feeling the general would approve of his proposal.   The curse, or curses, were finally, truly broken.

This is my long delayed entry to the H/C Prodigy Challenge to write a story about Daniel's and SG11's adventure while the rest of SG1 were on M4C-862. My thanks to Denise for allowing me to borrow her incarnation of SG11 from her wonderful short story, The Damned. I suggest reading her story first before reading this. It is archived at Stargatefan. I may also have inadvertently taken the title of this story from another fic, and if so I apologize for borrowing without prior permission. Finally, many thanks to Val for beta work and to both Val and Joyce for continued support and encouragement. All spelling, grammatical and typo errors are mine. FEEDBACK: Please, on or off list, to the email listed above.

January 5, 2002 Stargate SG-1 and its characters are not owned by me. They are the property of Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions and Gekko Productions. This story is written for entertainment purposes only; no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement intended.