"So, Jack...how far do you think we are from the Stargate now?" Daniel lowered the travois to the ground, then stretched painfully, straightening his spine, stifling a groan at the muscle twinges that surged through his body. Wincing, he flexed his cramped and aching fingers. His whole body hurt, but that was endurable. It had to be. With a toss of his head to get the sweat-stained hair out of his eyes, he turned to his injured companion, while the third member of their party flung himself down in the grassy verge of the trail and closed his eyes.

"Oh, I'd say about ten minutes down the road since the last time you asked me." O'Neill's voice was wry, but Daniel could hear the pain that laced through it although the older man tried to hide it. Jackson knelt beside him and put his hand on Jack's forehead. Too hot. He'd been afraid of that. Too hot and too dry. This was bad. The Colonel's mouth was tight with pain. When Daniel reached for the bandage, he batted the scientist's hand away.

"Don't tell me, I already know." Able to read Daniel's face before he could speak a word, the Colonel nodded. "Yeah, I've got a fever. Yeah, it's probably infected. I've been through this before. I know how it feels."

"I cleaned it out thoroughly." Daniel knew his protest was futile before he spoke it. "I cleaned it." The words were meant to justify an action that really couldn't be justified, but even more, they were an attempt to deny the possibility, to prevent Jack from getting worse out here, miles from anywhere--to make sure he didn't die. Daniel had lost too many people in his life already. He wasn't prepared to lose the man who had become closer to him than any friend he'd ever had before, the man who bound his new family together.

O'Neill's eyes sparkled wickedly, as if he knew what Daniel was thinking and meant to cheer him up. "I kinda remember that party."

The cheering-up attempt didn't work. Jackson bit his bottom lip. Even knowing how necessary it had been to cleanse the knife wound, he had felt the agony that had torn through O'Neill's body as he had worked on the injured leg. Jack's hand had dug into his forearm so tightly bruises had formed. For the first second, Daniel had been afraid the Colonel had crushed a bone in his paroxysm of pain. After inflicting such agony on his friend, it had almost seemed fair that he suffer, too. Stranded miles from the Stargate, he couldn't take a chance on Jack's injury becoming infected.

But it looked like his urgent first aid hadn't been good enough. Jack's condition was worsening before his eyes, and there was nothing Daniel could do about it except get them back to the Stargate and home as rapidly as possible so that Dr. Frasier could take care of it.

Only there was probably half a day's march between them and the Stargate. Jack couldn't walk. The natives who injured him might be lurking in the trees, waiting for full dark to attack. They'd attacked in broad daylight before, only to be frightened away by Jack's HK MP5 but Daniel couldn't be sure they were gone. They might be lurking just out of sight, lulling the Earthmen into complacency, waiting until Jack passed out and the weapon dropped from his fingers. Galen's bow and arrow wouldn't be good enough to fend off angry tribesmen. And the sun had just sunk beneath the horizon.

What am I going to do? Daniel thought helplessly as he opened the water bottle Galen had brought along and offered Jack a sip. I can't move him and hold a weapon at the same time. The path he walked, pulling the travois behind him, led directly to the Stargate. Galen had said so. But Daniel still wasn't quite sure he trusted the man. Not with Jack's life. Look at him now, sitting there in a heap beside the track, his face and hair damp with perspiration from the unaccustomed activity of walking a few miles. He'd pulled the travois once for two breathless miles, the second for less than one before he was spent and needed to relinquish it to Daniel again. Okay, so he was an extra pair of eyes, and he was good with his bow, but Jack didn't trust him as far as he could throw the Goa'uld pyramid. And that meant Daniel couldn't trust him either, even though he wanted to like the little man.

They never had intended to move so far away from the Stargate when SG-1 went on a mission to P3R 888. The planet hadn't even seemed dangerous at first. The Gate was set in a tranquil wooded area with no evidence of local traffic at all, except for a couple of trails through the woods and the clearing around the gate itself. Untended and untrimmed, long grass grew along the ramp that led down from the Stargate and swayed rhythmically in the light breeze that had plucked at Daniel's hair. Gigantic, ancient coniferous trees soared up to scrape the sky, leaving the air pungent with a piney scent. Daniel could remember O'Neill taking deep, appreciative breaths, letting the tranquil scene ease some of the tensions of past missions, although he never lowered his guard. Jack never did. He considered himself responsible for the team's safety--it wasn't just the military side of him that put him in command. It was Jack's nature to never lower his guard on a mission, to never trust a smiling stranger who might have a weapon just out of sight, to rein Daniel in when he wanted to run off eagerly to explore fascinating ruins that might prove dangerous. Daniel thought it was because of the way Jack's son died; it wasn't his fault that Charlie had found Jack's gun and accidentally killed himself, but Jack believed it was. He believed he'd been careless with the weapon. Remembering how stiff and unhappy Jack had been when first they met, Daniel knew Jack didn't intend to be careless with the team he led now. The team who had become his family.

That was the whole problem. They'd been alert. They'd been ready for danger. Teal'c had held his staff weapon in his hands, prepared to fire should hostiles burst out of the forest and attack. But the thing that swooped down at them out of the sky was too unexpected, too silent, and it gave no warning. By the time they noticed its shadow and sensed the breeze of its diving movement, it was already too late. The flying device looked like a combination of organic being and machine, as if someone had created a robot bird bigger than a condor. Silver and glittery, it dove for them, claws outstretched and, before Teal'c could swing his staff weapon around to fire, it had grabbed Daniel and Jack. They tried to duck away from its rushing flight but its talons encircled their waists as it launched skyward again, lifting them right up off the ground.

Daniel could remember Sam yelling, "Don't fire, you'll hit Daniel and the Colonel," and Teal'c trying to aim his staff weapon in front of the creature to deflect it's path and force it down before it mounted too high. But it merely altered course, soaring high, higher, up into the thinner air, mechanical wings beating. The words of an old poem slid idiotically through Daniel's mind. O, I have slipped the surly bonds of earth. He shook away the fanciful image and concentrated on the wings that stirred the air. They were sculpted with synthetic feathers to spread and catch the wind, but a faint hum of directed energy emanated from the device. It could probably just glide and still maintain flight once it was actually airborne. Daniel was fascinated with it. Although it represented a high level of technology, it looked like something a primitive people would accept, even as they feared it. Was that why it had been created the way it was? Who had designed it? Why? Where were he and Jack being taken? Daniel was full of questions. The stylized designs on the belly of the bird had a vaguely Egyptian cast. Goa'uld? The remnant of another settlement originally from Earth?

And then he looked down at the forest far below and his stomach twisted in blind, unreasoning panic at the vast distance between his feet and solid ground. He wasn't good with heights. He just wasn't good with them at all. Shivering, he squeezed his eyes as tightly shut as he could and hoped he wouldn't lose it--or that its grip wouldn't loose him and send him plummeting down to the forest below.

"Well, this isn't the way I like to get my frequent flyer miles," complained Jack. When Daniel risked opening his eyes, he realized the quip had been meant to reassure him, to ease his height-induced tension. He smiled weakly.

"We're too high to break free." Daniel was uneasy at the look on the Colonel's face. Jack was a take-charge kind of guy, who met challenges head on. This one would have to wait for confrontation until they landed. He hoped. Free fall might be a good thing, but they didn't have parachutes.

"I kinda had that figured already." O'Neill had lost his sun glasses when he was snatched, and he squinted down at the distant ground, raising a hand to shield his eyes from the glare of sunlight off the metal wings. "We're moving awfully fast. I hate to think how far we're getting from the Stargate."

"Do you think somebody sent this thing for us? That they can tell when the Gate opens?" Daniel speculated. He felt his fascination overriding his fear, although it hadn't entirely faded away. The swoop of his stomach up into his throat proved that as he risked a glance down. Hastily averting his eyes, he considered the symbols on the belly of the flying machine instead. At least he didn't have to see how far he would fall.

"From this far away? We've come miles." O'Neill craned his neck. "I wish I knew who sent this thing."

"And why it took us," Daniel countered. "When we were on Kendra's planet, the transporter was right at the Gate and it took Teal'c because of his Goa'uld larva. This time it took us instead of him. Do you think it could be a Goa'uld design? We haven't seen anything like it before that I can remember. It doesn't resemble the death gliders."

"It's only designed to grab two." Jack stared up at the silver flyer as if searching for a weak point. "We were probably just the first two it could get. I haven't seen another one pass us going after Captain Carter and Teal'c."

That hadn't occurred to Daniel. He'd been concentrating too hard on fighting his fear to think of other gliders. He hoped Jack was right. There was no sense in risking all four of them.

Gasping for breath in the thinner air, Daniel risked another uneasy glance down and saw a building below, a pyramid, a Goa'uld pyramid. This wasn't good at all. He pointed. "Jack! Look down there. Do you think that's where we're going?" The bird-machine began to circle as he spoke. "I guess we are." He grimaced. "So it is a Goa'uld device. I just don't get it. Why would they settle so far from the Stargate? Unless they had a lot of ground transportation here it just doesn't make sense. I can't think why they'd do it. I don't remember seeing things like that on Abydos, or even on Chulak, though."

"I don't like the look of that place." Jack glared at the pyramid as if he meant to file a grievance the minute they landed. Once they'd attained too high an altitude, they hadn't dared to struggle, but as they neared the ground, the Colonel tightened his grip on his handgun. "Think I could disable this thing and make it drop us before we get right up to it?"

"I wouldn't until we're a little lower," Daniel objected hastily with a quick grin. "I've got a constitutional objection to shattered bones. I'm not really that crazy about high places."

"If we get too close to that pyramid, we're in trouble." Jack squinted down at the structure, looking for evidence of a welcoming committee. "It's got 'Goa'uld' written all over it."

"It looks too much like Ra's pyramid on Abydos to make me happy," Daniel concurred. "Do you think this bird-robot really is a Goa'uld artifact?"

"You're just full of happy thoughts, aren't you?" Jack checked his weapon.

"But I want to know why it's happening," Daniel protested.

The bird-robot circled the pyramid in lazy arcs, maintaining too much altitude for Jack to risk disabling it yet. "Well, look at the head," Daniel pointed out. "It's stylized, not exactly like the helmets of Ra's Jaffa or those of Apophis. But it does kind of generally look Egyptian. I've got a bad feeling about this."

"No, ya think? We got snatched by a robotic bird and we're heading straight for a Goa'uld stronghold. I can't imagine why anybody would feel bad about that."

"So what do we do?" Daniel asked. When the chips were down, it was natural to turn to Jack for answers, especially since it looked like they were heading for a confrontation. Daniel might be fascinated by the creation of the device and what he could learn from it, but in a possible shootout, it was Jack he'd turn to for guidance.

"I kinda think playing it by ear has got a lot going for it. The minute we get low enough, we're gonna try to drop. If we can get it to drop us, then we make for those trees before anybody sees us--" He gestured toward the nearest stretch of forest.

"We're a long way from the Stargate," Daniel pointed out. "Maybe there's a way to program this thing to take us back. Do you think it is programmed to react like this every time somebody comes through the Gate?"

"You mean it might be automatic?" O'Neill frowned, remembering automated devices that had caused them trouble on previous missions. "That's not a good thought either, buddy. Then there's probably a reception committee down there."

As they grew close enough to get a better look, both men peered down at the ramp that led up to the pyramid where a small cluster of men stood, gesticulating skyward. "Yep, there they are," Jack groused. "Ready and waiting." He checked his gun again, bracing himself for the fight they both expected.

"Those aren't Jaffa, Jack," Daniel cried in surprise. "Those are primitives." There were only four of them, humanoid beings, staring up at the silver bird-robot, gesturing with spears, yelling in an unknown language that had a lot of grunts and clicks in it--the only Earth language Daniel could compare it to was that of the Kalahri Bushmen, and this was very different. They wore loincloths, braided straw bands around wrists and ankles, and a great deal of body paint in bright colors. Their hair was sculpted with mud into jagged spikes, and huge white circles had been drawn around their eyes. Daniel wasn't sure they were human--their bodies were a little too elongated and their faces too sharp to look fully homo sapiens--but they were certainly humanoid.

"And they just seem so happy to see us."

"But they probably don't have the technology to control this flying machine," Daniel objected, gesturing at the device that carried them. "And I don't see anything more advanced moving down there. Maybe the Goa'uld are gone and these guys just hang around and take what they can get of the technology."

"You think it could be automated?" theorized Jack, trying to work out the nature of the problem. "Opening the Stargate triggers it and it retrieves whoever comes through? Could that work from such a distance?"

"The Goa'uld probably could rig something. Although they didn't have anything like it at Chulak. Two at a time, obviously. Maybe it just grabs a couple from each party and then whoever is in charge here can decide if they're friend of foe. Or maybe it just happened by or does regular patrols or something."

"We're getting lower," Jack warned. He aimed the gun at the underbelly of the machine, gesturing with it. "Does that look as much like a control panel as I hope it does?"

"Go for it," Daniel nodded, bracing himself for the drop that was sure to follow.

O'Neill fired three quick rounds at the robot-bird. It shuddered, jerked, and the talons spasmed tighter for a second, forcing the air from their lungs. The flying machine swerved around in a jagged circle that brought them directly over the armed party waiting below, then opened up the talons just before the grip would have done nasty damage. Gasping for breath, Daniel hit the ramp hard, not ten feet in front of the dancing tribesmen, who lunged at him with spears and stone daggers. He heard Jack fall behind him, rolling to break the impact, coming to his feet in one swift movement that automatically put himself between Daniel and the primitives. Daniel had never quite figured out how he did things like that, but it seemed instinctive for the Colonel to protect his team that way. Fighting to control his breathing and mask any difficulty, O'Neill yelled, "Stay back!"

In the distance, the robot-bird spiraled out of control and pitched into the pines. A faraway explosion marked its destruction. It dawned on Daniel that they might have just destroyed their only rapid transportation back to the Stargate.

He didn't have any time to worry about that. Howling with rage, the natives flung a spear at each of them. Daniel scrambled sideways, the point catching his sleeve and momentarily pinning him to the thin layer of dirt that covered the stone ramp. It only took a second's yanking to break free and wiggle sideways before the man jabbed at him again, this time with a knife. Daniel kicked at him and jumped backwards out of range. O'Neill ducked the spear that soared through the air at him, firing a short burst over the natives' heads. They flinched at the sound, eyes widening in surprise, but didn't stop coming. The two nearest hit O'Neill hard and flung him to the dirt as effortlessly as NFL linebackers. Daniel dodged the other two and fired over their heads, trying to work past them to help Jack.

A sudden, sharp cry of pain from the Colonel made Daniel yell, "Jack!" and lunge for him, firing at the nearest man, who jumped back, dropping his spear to grasp his right arm. Jack's gun went off and another of the natives reeled away clutching his shoulder, blood oozing between his fingers. He shouted something in his unfamiliar tongue, and all four men pelted down the ramp, howling in superstitious terror. The only word Daniel could make out in their strange, clicking language was, 'Jaffa'. They vanished into the trees, their shouts growing more distant until Daniel couldn't hear them at all.

"They think we're Jaffa," he said, flinging himself down at the O'Neill's side. "Jack, are you hurt."

O'Neill's hands were pressed tight against his thigh not far above the knee. Color had bled from his face, leaving it stark and white, a smear of dirt from the ramp leaving a dramatic streak on his left cheekbone. Blood oozed up between his clutching fingers. At the sight, Daniel's stomach knotted. Jack wasn't supposed to get hurt. He was supposed to be tough and strong and handle everything that came their way. Seeing him down and vulnerable felt very wrong.

"They...got me with a knife," Jack confessed through gritted teeth. His face was white and his muscles had tensed up to battle the pain he was feeling. "Hurts like all hell."

"That could be nasty." Daniel shuddered, disgusted with his understatement. They were miles from the Stargate on a planet peopled with lethal natives who would soon realize the two of them were not Jaffa, they had only a few weapons, and Jack was hurt, probably unable to walk. A puncture wound like that could be dangerous, too, driving foreign matter deep within the wound. Infection was not only possible, it was likely. For a moment, he felt a surge of blind panic. Jack would depend on him. He had to get him to safety, but how? Were there other bird devices, and how did one control them? He gripped Jack's shoulder, giving him a comforting squeeze. He'd think of something. All that time on Abydos had taught him it didn't take technology to solve every problem. He just hoped he'd learned enough while he was there to be able to help his friend.

"You drove them away. Marvelous!"

The new voice stunned Daniel, who had been so wrapped up in trying to get a look at Jack's wound that he hadn't heard the arrival. Jack had noticed, though. Even hurt, one hand fumbled for his gun, pointing it past Daniel at the newcomer. Spinning around, the anthropologist leveled his handgun at the newcomer, too, then hesitated doubtfully.

The stranger looked utterly harmless. He was little, four or five inches shorter than Daniel, a slender man with delicate, pointed features and hands too white and smooth to have ever done much manual labor. He wore a white, pleated tunic that looked vaguely Greek and his hair was arranged in tiny, flat curls all over his head. "The bird-beast brought you," the stranger said, staring at them with near-set eyes. "Why did you destroy it? The temple would have opened for it and landed you safely inside."

"It's not like we knew that, is it?" Jack objected, catching his breath sharply as he struggled to sit up. "I don't remember hearing anything about fastening seatbelts before takeoff and putting the seatbacks in the full upright position."

Daniel put his hand on Jack's chest to keep him flat. He shouldn't try to exert himself. "No, stay down, Jack. We have to stop the bleeding before we do anything else."

"Let it bleed a minute to clean out the wound," Jack urged tightly as Daniel used a small knife to cut the cloth of Jack's pant leg open to expose the injury. God, there was a lot of blood. Jack's hands were slick with it.

Daniel shuddered. "I think it's bled enough. Come on, Jack, let me see it." He tried to pry the clutching hand away.

The stranger didn't understand Jack's reference, so he ignored it. "I am Galen, the last of my people," he said, his mouth twisting with sadness at the claim. "You are not Jaffa, but you drove the primitives away."

"Not in time," Daniel said ruefully as he got his first clear look at the welling injury, catching Jack's bloody hand to keep it away from the wound. God, he hated things like that. Better if it had been him. Jack was the one with the military training, who knew what to do in the field. He'd know just how to handle this. Digging out a pocket handkerchief, the anthropologist pressed it over the wound and instructed Jack to hold it in place. "Do you have a doctor?" he demanded of Galen.

"No, I have only myself, my books, and the remnants of a technology that came with this Goa'uld pyramid. I have sheltered here, always hoping the great bird would bring others of my kind. Or those who might allow me to go with them through the Gate to a world where I would not be alone. But none ever came."

"How long have you been alone here," Daniel asked, his attention never leaving Jack's wound. "Don't try to do anything but hold that, Jack. You've lost a lot of blood."

O'Neill elevated a wry eyebrow. "Ya think?" The attempt at humor didn't reassure Daniel one iota, although he suspected Jack had meant it to.

"Three years," Galen confessed. "That looks like a bad wound. Stone knives can cause much sickness. The natives never clean them. The blood poison will kill if untreated. Three of my family died to the stone knives."

"Well, I didn't want to hear that," Jack complained. He winced as he held the handkerchief in place. Daniel dug frantically in his pack for the first aid kit he carried.

"Don't press too hard, Jack. If there's anything in the wound.... I'll need to flush it out. Ordinarily I'd just get you back through the Gate and let Dr. Frasier do it once we stopped the bleeding, but we don't have that luxury. If they don't have modern medicine here, they probably don't have anything to disinfect wounds. I've got some antibiotic ointment in my pack. It's not great, but it's better than nothing. It's what I should use until I can get you to proper treatment. But we'd better get to shelter first in case they attack again. I hate to move you, Jack, but there's no choice. Galen, can we come into the pyramid?"

The little man hesitated. "You are not Jaffa? There was a Jaffa at the Gate with you. I saw him through the far-viewer."

"Yes, but he's a good Jaffa," Jack insisted quickly. "He doesn't work for the Goa'uld any more."

"Neither of us are Jaffa," Daniel explained. "The Goa'uld are our enemies too. You said there was the remains of a technology in the pyramid. Can we go and see? There might be something to help Jack in there."

"Of course. Please be welcome to my home." Galen looked a little suspicious, not entirely reassured about Teal'c. That meant they could be walking into a trap. But the Colonel's leg needed treatment quickly and it just wasn't safe out here. Daniel cast a quick glance over his shoulder at the encroaching forest. Nothing moved. The natives didn't return. Once Jack was in shelter, Daniel could make sure the bleeding was stopped, treat the wound, try to ease his pain until they could figure out how to return to the Stargate. Tying the handkerchief lightly in place, he tucked his gun into his belt, then gathered up Jack's and stuffed it into his backpack. When he was ready, he gestured Galen to take one side while he took the other, the colonel's arm draped over his shoulder, his other arm around Galen's.

"Bad idea, bad idea," he muttered, knowing they would probably start the wound bleeding again. One arm around Jack's waist, he placed his other hand flat against the colonel's chest to support him and keep him from pitching forward if he lost consciousness. The natives could return at any moment. They had to get to shelter. Jack hung on his shoulder like a dead weight, unable to support himself with the injured leg without crying out. He was one of the strongest men Daniel had ever met. Seeing him reduced to such pain made Daniel sick at heart.

*****

The inside of the pyramid reminded them of Klorel's ship, hieroglyphics on the walls, curving passages and openings behind panels that led to interior rooms. The floor was dusty, swept clean in the center by Galen's repeated passage but not as if the lone resident had made any dedicated effort at housekeeping. As the three of them moved, Jack suspended awkwardly between the two healthy men, they stirred up dust and Daniel couldn't help sneezing. It was dim in the passageway. Some of the illumination had died over time, but there was enough light to see by.

"I live in here." Galen gestured with his free hand to an opening. Light glowed out from behind the panel and they entered a high-ceilinged chamber. In the center of the room sat a Goa'uld sarcophagus in several pieces as if Galen's people had destroyed it deliberately. Daniel shivered at the unhappy memories the sight of the device evoked. One of the wings that usually closed over the victim to be healed was swung out and did double duty as a table. A ceramic lamp patterned in Greek designs with a wick still glowing sat beside a stack of scrolls, a flat plate with the remnants of a meal upon it, and a hand-blown bottle of red wine. Beyond the sarcophagus were a series of screens that gave views of distant planetary vistas. At first Daniel thought they were simply pictures, but then he realized he was looking at view screens. Through one of them, he could see the Stargate--and Teal'c and Sam moving in random circles around it as if scouting the area.

"Can we talk to them?" he asked hopefully. At least if the other members of the team knew where they were, they might be able to arrange a rescue.

At the question, Jack raised his head and stared at the other two members of SG-1. "That's how you saw us and knew we were coming," he realized. " Can we talk to them, Galen?"

"No. There was once a voice communication, but it died and we did not know to mend it." Galen waved a disparaging hand to excuse his ignorance. "Put him here," the man urged, guiding them over to a pallet in the corner. "I sleep here. I am sorry the sarcophagus no longer works. It would heal him."

"We've had a few problems with those things," Jack muttered. "I'd rather take my chances with the old-fashioned method."

"We, too, had troubles," Galen admitted. "Two of my kin fought over its use, and both of them died. It was damaged in the fight. I could not repair it, so I simply use it for mundane things."

Daniel eased Jack down on the pallet while Galen stood watching. The wound must hurt but Jack didn't cry out. He had braced himself against the pain as if he'd seen the fear in Daniel's face and wanted to avoid anything that would make it worse. "Okay, Daniel, do your stuff. I think it's time for the wonders of modern medicine."

Daniel shrugged himself out of his pack and removed the first aid kit again. "I'll have to clean it first," he said, hunting about in the kit. He should irrigate the wound, but that really needed water under pressure and he wasn't going to get that here. He'd have to pour water onto the wound and hope it would flush out any foreign matter. He set aside a set of tweezers in case he'd need them to remove anything. "It's going to hurt. Galen, we'll need clean water. A lot of it." It wasn't as if the man would have bottled water, but that was a luxury they didn't have. He didn't even want to think about the alien microorganisms that might lurk in the 'clean' water. If only it wouldn't make Jack worse. Flushing out any dirt and foreign matter from the wound had to take priority. Jack was tough. Look how long he'd held out at the Stargate in Antarctica, when he'd been hurt worse than this.

Galen nodded, edging toward the door. "Yes, immediately. The water recycles here. It is clean." He scurried purposefully out of the room.

"You trust that guy?" Jack nodded after him, skepticism in his eyes. His fingers curled around his gun.

"Well...no, but he's all we've got right now. I don't know where water is, and we have to have it. I wish we had bottled water. We'll have to boil it. I'd be sure of that, and I'm not sure of his, but, Jack, this wound just isn't clean. There's whatever was on the blades, and it will have taken some fabric with it. Puncture wounds are bad--especially when we're a long way from proper treatment. We have to go with it. I know a lot about primitive medicine. I had to learn on Abydos. But what I do know is that something like this can be really nasty."

The colonel grimaced. "Thanks. I needed to hear that."

"I'm sorry," Daniel said futilely. He'd had to level with Jack. He wouldn't hold that information back, but he wished he'd had something better to say, something more reassuring. "I don't have any easy answers. If we could communicate with Sam and Teal'c, we could get help sooner."

"Well, we can't. So do the best we can and we'll start for the Stargate. Once you get my leg bandaged, and maybe find a big stick or something to use for a crutch to give me a little help, we'll head back."

"Oh, come on, Jack," Daniel burst out, frustration and worry tightening his muscles and causing him to sound angry. "Walking on it, exerting yourself, will only make it worse. You're not Rambo. You can't take forty-seven bullet wounds and still save the world."

Jack managed a thin smile that served to emphasize the pain he was feeling. "Lying here waiting to croak in a Goa'uld pyramid isn't exactly high on my priority list, either. Just do the best you can. If I'm not strong enough to last a day, we've got problems. I don't want to just lie here and die of it and strand you alone this far from the Stargate."

"God, Jack, I'm not worrying about that." But he was, not that he'd be stranded, but that Jack would die. He'd come to know and trust the Colonel better than anyone else on Earth, and he meant to take Jack back to the Gate if he had to carry him on his back. "Besides Sam and Teal'c will find us. They won't quit on us, you know that."

Galen bustled back carrying a large bowl full of water, careful to avoid spilling any. "I will bring more," he said as he deposited the bowl on a nearby table, and hurried away. Surveying the bowl didn't reveal any obvious dirt, and the water was clear. Not ideal, but all they had. At Daniel's urging, Galen stoked the fire he must keep burning round the clock against the far wall. He probably did his cooking on it. Producing a small, bronze cooking pot, he poured the water into it and set it over the fire. When it had boiled, he wrapped a cloth around the handle and carried the pot over, pouring the water into the bowl that Daniel indicated.

The scientist undid the loose binding that held the handkerchief in place, relieved when no new blood welled from the wound. "I think it's stopped bleeding. I'm going to have to clean it now. It will hurt."

"You think it's only gonna start then?" Jack demanded wryly. "Come on, Doctor Danny, just do it. I don't like the idea of going the way of Galen's buddies."

Jackson went to work, first putting on a pair of latex gloves from the kit. The minute he started to clean the wound, every muscle in O'Neill's body went rigid. His hand came up and grabbed Daniel's arm, fingers digging in so tightly the scientist had to bite his lip to hold back a pained cry. Forcing himself to continue, Daniel irrigated the wound as thoroughly as he could, aware of involuntary tears of pain in Jack's eyes. After he noticed them, he was very careful not to look that way again; he meant to allow Jack his dignity--and, to be honest, the sight disturbed him. He expected Jack to be able to handle anything. He'd seen Jack go through a lot and it wasn't fair to expect him to have it together when he was hurt. But seeing how the Colonel fought the pain made him feel sadistic. O'Neill had bitten his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, and he was breathing harshly, struggling for control. "Just do it right," he gritted out, every muscle braced against the pain. "And don't take a year."

As Galen brought more boiled water, Daniel used it to wash out the wound as thoroughly as he could. He stiffened when Jack grimaced as he flushed it out. "That's clean enough," O'Neill complained.

Daniel winced, too. "I'm sorry, god, Jack, I don't want to do it any more than you want me to. But I have to. Isn't there any quick way you could learn to be a...stoic or something?"

The question produced the desired result. O'Neil sputtered with pained laughter. "Oh, yeah, sure, I'll make that...my first priority." His fingers were still tight on Daniel's arm but he made a conscious attempt to ease the grip.

Daniel knew it would have been better to leave treatment for Dr. Frasier, but that wasn't one of his options. He had to make sure he got it as clean as possible and he didn't dare risk using peroxide to clean out the injury because it wasn't wise to use it in deep puncture wounds. It was a good thing they'd all kept their first aid training as part of their duties as members of SGC.

"Ya practicing for your class in Torture 101?" Jack hissed between clenched teeth. As an attempt at banter, it failed miserably. Or maybe it was just that Daniel wasn't taking it right.

"I have to, Jack," Daniel repeated.

"Yeah, but can't you 'have to' faster?"

"I'm trying." Daniel squashed down a surge of blind, helpless panic. One thing at a time. There were always solutions. He'd figure something out.

Galen brought a third bowl and hovered at Daniel's back, watching the cleansing process. "Shouldn't you just wash it really hard?" he asked helpfully.

"No, that would be bad," Daniel explained without looking up. "I'd only cause bruises. I've got it as clean as I can, I think."

Bending down to squint at it up close, he couldn't see any foreign matter in the wound. It probably needed stitches, but Daniel hesitated. It wasn't, quite, that he was afraid to. He'd stitched a wound on Abydos once, under even more primitive conditions than these and the wound had healed cleanly and without complications. But if he closed the wound, he could be promoting the infection. Remembering his first aid training, he knew he couldn't even use butterfly bandages. Instead he packed the wound with the antiseptic cream, a process that made Jack's body jerk even harder. Expected to work under primitive conditions on worlds where return through the Stargate might not be immediate, even on simple reconnaissance missions, the team had all been trained in first aid. That the treatment they could give each other in the field had to be rough and ready was a given, but no one had ever expected an injured team member to be stranded this far from the gate. At least they wouldn't unknowingly and in good faith give the wrong treatment. Covering the wound with a couple of gauze pads, he bound them in place, then pulled off the latex gloves and put them into a disposable plastic bag. O'Neill finally eased his grip on Daniel's arm and sagged back against the pallet.

Jack's skin was a little clammy when Daniel finished and, afraid he was going into shock, the anthropologist put a pillow under his knees and feet to elevate them. The motion won a grimace from his friend. "Oh, for crying out loud, aren't you done yet?"

"I am now. Really." He covered Jack with several blankets from Galen's supply, then clasped his shoulder, giving him a comforting and apologetic squeeze before letting go. "Just rest, Jack. I'll see what I can find out," he offered, smoothing the top blanket into place.

"Figure it out so I can hear it," the Colonel instructed tightly. His clenched muscles began to ease, and he gripped the blankets tightly, huddling into them as if he were desperately cold.

"I will, unless there's something useful for me to see somewhere else in the pyramid." Daniel pulled up a stool and sat down beside his injured friend, letting his hand fall on Jack's arm. He wasn't sure which of them the touch was meant to reassure, but he felt better for doing it. Casting one quick glimpse at the screen that revealed the Stargate he saw that Sam and Teal'c had disappeared. Whether they had started after him and Jack or gone back through the Gate for reinforcements he didn't know. He hoped it was the latter. Even if the two of them walked to meet him and Teal'c could carry Jack, it would still take time, time the injury might not permit.

Reluctantly, Daniel made a decision. They couldn't wait here for rescue, not when Teal'c and Sam didn't know where 'here' was. They had to take steps to rescue themselves, even if it risked encounters with the hostile primitives. He turned to their new helper.

"Galen, we have to get back to the Stargate, and we need to go quickly. We can treat this wound properly once we're home and make sure Jack doesn't...well, that he can recover. Other than the bird machine, is there any form of quick transportation here?"

"No, none at all. The natives have beasts of burden, but they are small and slight, and only carry minimal loads. They would not support a human for more than a few minutes." And the natives wouldn't exactly rush to offer their pack animals, either, Daniel realized.

"What about Goa'uld stuff?" Jack persisted, pulling an arm free of blankets and gesturing at the pyramid that rose around them. "They've got equipment and this place is one of theirs. That bird thing must have been, too. They might have a handy little gizmo stashed away that we can use."

"My kind have lived here for many centuries," Galen replied. "No Goa'uld has been here for over a thousand years. We have searched thoroughly. We know every corner of the pyramid. If there had been a useful machine to carry us about like the bird device we could not control, we would have welcomed it and used it. There were none."

"Unless you were too afraid of the Goa'uld to try?" Jack muttered, eyeing Galen without much appreciation.

The little man took no offense. "No, we believed the evil ones gone. We used the sarcophagus for many years to heal our injured. We use other Goa'uld equipment now, such as the screens to warn us of the primitives." He gestured at the wall of view screens, causing all three men to look. One of them showed a couple of natives but the terrain in that picture didn't match the land around the pyramid. There was still no activity at the Gate. Galen shrugged. "But, for travel--we found nothing. Once a chariot," he corrected, his brow wrinkling as he concentrated, "but no creatures to pull it, and it was too heavy for us to take turns pulling each other. Decco would have tried a winsa--the native animals--but we had none, and I think the chariot was too heavy. I have not seen it since I was a boy."

"I don't remember seeing the Goa'uld using ground transport anyway, Jack," Daniel said thoughtfully. "If there were any death gliders here we could use one of them--"

"Assuming we could fly them? You had any Goa'uld flying lessons lately, Daniel?"

"I thought you could figure it out. You're in the Air Force. Isn't that what you do?" Daniel made himself smile.

Jack grinned enthusiastically. "It'd be fun to try. After all, I've been in a Goa'uld flying machine before, even if Bra'tac did the flying part. I could wing it."

"I am sorry, sirs, but there are none here, at least none that we have seen," Galen offered ruefully. He bowed his head as if to admit failure. "And my people have explored this pyramid thoroughly."

"No locked rooms? No secret places where there should be rooms but aren't?" Daniel persisted. There had to be a way to get Jack back to the Gate. Just because they didn't have one now didn't mean there was no answer. He cast his mind back to the primitive cultures he'd studied, trying to think of ways to get around in cultures without horses and oxen. Who knew what might be concealed in this very pyramid.

Galen frowned, his mind busy as he contemplated the implications to Daniel's question. "I never considered that, but I think not. I know this structure too well. There are no spaces that might hold hidden rooms. I am sorry. I have no way to help you."

"I can make it back to the gate," Jack insisted. "Don't you see, I have to. I don't want to lie here until I'm too weak to move on the off chance that Sam and Teal'c will find a way to get to us. Just let me rest a little and we'll do it." That was Jack. He wasn't passive. He would never be happy with a waiting role.

Although he understood, Daniel shook his head. "No, Jack. If that wound gets infected, all that moving will just pump the poison through your system." Suddenly he grinned. "I've got a better idea. If we can't have high tech, we'll use low tech. I'll make a travois."

"You mean one of those thingies the Indians used to use to haul stuff around?" Jack looked interested. "And how are you gonna pull it. There aren't any horses here, just little critters that couldn't hold a human, remember? And it's not like we can stroll into the primitives' camp and buy one."

"I'll pull it myself," Daniel explained. "I'm sure The Indians used to do that too. They didn't always have horses. The Europeans brought horses to the New World. That way we can at least go as fast as I can walk. I have to get you back to the Stargate, Jack. If it takes us a day, we'll do it, and who's to say Teal'c and Sam won't be looking for us and meet us halfway and then there'll be three of us to take turns with the travois. Or that they haven't gone back through the gate to get transport."

"Sure, they're gonna drive a Buick through the Gate and just take off after us." Jack gave a wry grin. "It's not like there's a handy dandy Interstate Highway leading right here."

"Well, maybe they could adapt a M.A.L.P. or something. Or bring...dirt bikes like some of the teams have been discussing or an all terrain vehicle. A Hummer?"

Jack laughed out loud. "I love it. Can't you see Teal'c on a dirt bike. And Sam?"

"I wouldn't put it past Sam to already know how to ride a motorcycle," Daniel replied. "There's not much she can't do. And Teal'c's probably the most adaptable man I've ever met. Don't write them off. I just have to get you to them, as fast as I can." He couldn't remember if Teal'c had spent any time with the team that was working on the possibility or not but he couldn't imagine the Jaffa holding back if such a task was necessary.

"What is this travois?" Galen asked, interested. Even though he hadn't understood Jack's contemporary references, he was obviously a quick study. "I have supplies. I will help. Perhaps in return, you would take me with you from this place? It is very lonely here. There are other worlds where I might live, away from the solitude and the hostile tribes outside. I could come with you?" he asked hopefully.

"You forgot about the hostile tribes, Daniel," Jack muttered, shifting restlessly. "What's to stop them jumping us when you're pulling me through the woods. I weigh more than you do, and your hands won't be free. Or they can throw spears from cover and we don't happen to come equipped with Goa'uld personal shields. I don't think it's a very good idea."

"Oh, fine, Jack," Daniel snapped, frustrated and irritable because he was so worried. "We stay here and hope the antiseptic cream works, and if it doesn't, then you die of blood poisoning. I'd rather try to get you back. We're armed. Even if my hands aren't free, you'll have a gun, remember. They ran when you wounded one. If they think we're Jaffa because of that, they might just stay away. We have to try, don't you see? I'm not going to sit here and watch you die."

O'Neill was silent a moment, then he reached out and gave Daniel's arm a swat. "Okay, Colonel Jackson, what are your orders."

Daniel surprised a momentary twinkle in the Colonel's dark eyes. He smiled back. "Well, first we have to figure out what to use to make the travois. Why don't you rest and I'll draw Galen a picture of one and we'll see what he can find to use to make one. It's just a stretcher for one person to carry, Jack. It won't be an easy ride but it will be better for you than walking."

"Go for it," O'Neill urged. "And maybe we can recruit one of those beasts of burden for part of the way."

"I'll find out," Daniel said. "Get some rest now, though."

He didn't expect Jack to obey, but the Colonel must have felt worse than he was willing to admit. He pulled his free arm back under the blankets and closed his eyes. Worried, Daniel led Galen over to the table and reached for the abandoned stylus. Galen held out a scroll and gestured at the ink. While Daniel sketched, he hovered, watching. "Ah. We call that a litter, although usually we would have a man at each end. Yes, we can make one. I have the very thing for the poles." He went over to a door Daniel had not noticed and returned carrying two staff weapons.

Daniel's cry of surprise made the Colonel open his eyes. "Staff weapons! You didn't say you were armed."

"I am not," Galen admitted reluctantly, his shoulders slumping as if he felt he had let his new friends down. "These no longer function. Perhaps they are very old, perhaps the power in them has died. But they are long and strong and will serve for the litter, perhaps?"

"Yes, they will serve very well," Daniel agreed. "Do you have any that work?"

*****

Jack slept until the travois was ready, the central part lashed with braided rope, covered with several fur pelts for comfort. It was sturdy and strong, and it would do the job. The part of the staff weapons that discharged power would drag on the ground while Daniel would hold the other ends. He was sorry Galen had no working staff weapons. It would have given the little man something to carry on the journey. Jack was adamant about refusing to give the Greek one of their guns. As a result, the little man had tucked a sling into the belt of his tunic, and he carried a bow and quiver of arrows--"I am very good with arrows"--slung over his shoulder. They had decided to take Galen with him. He could provide additional cover, he might be able to pull the travois for short periods to give Daniel a breather, and they could watch him to make certain he did nothing to endanger them. If he really meant to assist them, Daniel hated the idea of abandoning him to his lonely existence. Maybe he could find a home in the Land of Light or on one of the other worlds SG-1 had visited.

"Besides, I feel sorry for him," Daniel had muttered to Jack as Galen scurried around, packing a few possessions, mostly books and scrolls, in a makeshift bundle. "I'd hate it, being alone here with no one but people who want to kill me."

"You spent a year on a primitive planet," Daniel reminded him.

"But I wasn't alone. The Abydonians were wonderful people, Jack, and I had Sha're, and her father, and Skaara, and I had so much to teach them. They did all they could to make me feel as if I were home--and it was home. Galen's alone, the last of his people. Those natives out there are savages who would kill him without hesitation. They killed his family. We have to take him. Besides, I think they're actually aliens--the natives of this planet instead of transplanted humans, and it's pretty obvious Galen's folks were seeded here from Earth long ago. It's the right thing to bring him."

"At least we can keep an eye on him that way," Jack conceded as Galen pranced up, possessions tied in a neat bundle that he had bound to a stick like a hobo.

"You see, I can carry this on my shoulder. If we fall under attack, I will drop it and fight. I am ready now." He looked around the room he had made into his home and sadness filled his hazel eyes. "This is all I have ever known--but to stay here alone now that I have once again experienced companionship...." His eyes glittered brightly with emotion.

Sympathetically, Daniel clapped his shoulder. He knew all about being alone. After his parents were killed, he'd always been alone, even when he was with other people, until Catherine brought him into the Stargate project. Then he'd found Sha're and her people, and later, the family he had now, SG-1. He wouldn't condemn anyone to solitude. "This will be dangerous, Galen. Are you sure?"

"Yes. I will help as I can. I am not--a strong fighter. I cared more for books and learning than for fighting, and those of my people who were taller and stronger protected me, though we were always smaller than the tribes. But I will help with the litter. And I will fight if I must. You are kind, you offer me a new life. I must buy it with my assistance." He gathered everything together as Daniel eased Jack to his feet.

"I've got a bad feeling," Daniel said as he helped the man limp to the door where the travois was waiting.

"If you mean Galen, I don't know that I trust him," Jack replied in an undertone, hard to do while trying not to bite his lip in pain.

"He seems like he wants to help us."

"He looks sly," Jack returned. "He's got shifty eyes. I don't trust him."

"We need him, Jack. I'm not sure I can pull you the whole way. He can spell me. And he's at least another pair of eyes. Besides, wouldn't you rather know where he is?" Somehow, he thought those arguments would work better with Jack than his instinctive sympathy for Galen's solitude, although Jack knew about being alone, too. Listening to him on the rare occasions when he talked about coming home from the first mission to Abydos to discover Sarah had left him and the life he'd lived before he was recruited to rejoin the team, Daniel was positive Jack knew far more about enforced solitude than he'd ever be comfortable admitting. Maybe that was the real reason Jack had agreed to let the little Greek come with them.

"Good point." O'Neill hobbled a few more steps to the waiting travois. Each movement hurt him. He could never have walked as far as the Stargate, even if Daniel had been willing to let him try. "So this is my taxi?" he asked.

"Top of the line, Jack."

"How do you know things like this?" The Colonel's mouth was tight as he worked himself down, careful not to put pressure on his injured leg. It hurt him a lot, and Daniel was afraid that meant infection was setting in although it was probably too soon to tell.

"Anthropology 101," he replied lightly. "Here." Reaching out to assist his friend, he helped to situate the older man on the pallet. Galen arrived in a rush with the blankets, and the two of them spread them over Jack, Daniel automatically smoothing away any wrinkles.

"It's too warm." The Colonel pushed at them fretfully.

"Jack, you need them. You're probably in shock and that should be treated at a hospital. I have to do everything I can for you, and it's the nature of the travois that I can't elevate your feet unless we put you on it backwards--and then the blood would run to your head. Don't fight me. I know what I'm doing." I know what I'm doing? God, what am I saying? I only wish I did.

"I will check for the tribesmen," Galen volunteered and hurried ahead.

"Go with him, Daniel." Jack gestured at the door.

Jackson ran after Galen. The two of them emerged from the pyramid into the golden light of late afternoon. That meant they'd be traveling in darkness a lot sooner than he liked. Or if they stopped and made a fire to keep Jack warm, they'd give away their position and be sitting ducks. But what other choice was there? He couldn't think of any other options. Sam and Teal'c had not been visible in any screen while they made the travois. Jack had watched the viewers part of the time, between dozing, and Daniel had made a point of looking up every few minutes. If he knew for sure that rescue was coming he would feel a lot better. But he had seen nothing, no gate activity, not even any tribal prowling around outside the temple. At least that much of it was good, although the pine forest was thick enough to mask them if they waited, biding their time, just within its green shade.

No natives lurked around the pyramid now, and none emerged from the evergreen forest while Daniel watched. Okay. They'd have to go. But it wouldn't be easy.

Their weapons positioned around Jack on the travois, Daniel picked up the handgrips that he and Galen had padded with a cottony fabric laced firmly in place, and nodded for Galen to fall in beside him. The travois was heavier than he had expected, but it wasn't going to be impossible. He was a far fitter man than he had been before he went to Abydos. He could do it. He had to do it. There was no other acceptable choice.

*****

Captain Samantha Carter forced herself to stop running after the first few steps. There was no way to keep up with the mechanical bird on foot, not at the speed it was making. All they had to do was get a good fix on its direction so they could go after the Colonel and Daniel. With a frustrated sigh, she watched it disappear into the distance, vanishing behind the thick wall of evergreens.

She turned to the Jaffa who had run at her side. "Have you seen one of those bird things before, Teal'c?"

"I have not. I have heard tales of them, but have never seen one. They are very old, a technology long abandoned. But they are Goa'uld."

"There doesn't seem to be any evidence of settlements nearby." She frowned at the empty sky. "Where would it take them? Do you know?"

"Perhaps a more distant settlement. We must go after them." Shielding his eyes, Teal'c stared into the distance, his mouth taut. Perhaps he blamed himself for allowing Daniel and the Colonel to be taken, although it had happened so quickly there had been nothing he could have done.

"They've gone a long way." Sam eyed a rough trail that led into the trees in the general direction the bird had vanished. "It might bring them back or return for us, but we can't count on that. We have to go after them."

"It went many miles before it passed from sight." Teal'c's words confirmed her fears on that head. "And it may return for us when it has taken them to its destination."

She considered the options. It might have taken their missing teammates to a Goa'uld stronghold some distance from the Gate. Death gliders or a troop of Jaffa could arrive at any minute. O'Neill and Jackson were prisoners, even if the retrieval system was automated. With no helpful natives to answer questions, Sam had to consider her strategic options. "We can't just wait here on the off chance it does. I say we scout this place out as thoroughly as we can to see what's in the immediate vicinity, then we go back through the gate for ground transportation."

"There are no obvious settlements." Teal'c frowned as he stood surveying the terrain. The Stargate sat in the midst of a small clearing with a narrow trail branching off in two directions, one the way the bird-machine had gone, the other opposite. From the grass and small bushes that sprouted in the midst of the trails, they were not widely used, but they must experience some travel or they would have become completely overgrown.

"It doesn't look like anyone comes here--at least not for a long time." Sam measured the length of the long grass in the clearing with her eyes. Vines grew around the base of the DHD. The only thing different from other sites was a tall, narrow metallic pole that sat near the dial home device. Was that an electric eye or sensor apparatus mounted atop it? Something to alert a more distant settlement of a Gate opening? It, too, was unmaintained, with vines curling around it and growing up nearly two-thirds of its length.

"Teal'c, could that device warn of Gate activation?" She pointed.

The Jaffa went to the base of the pole and eyed the artifact mounted at its top. "Perhaps. I have not seen a similar device, but the Goa'uld do possess sensor equipment. This world has not seen activity in some time, evidently. Perhaps no one installed newer equipment."

"The site isn't maintained. Would the Goa'uld have a settlement far from the Stargate? If the bird machine came when we initially opened the gate, it didn't fly off with the M.A.L.P.," she concluded with a wave of her hand at the survey vehicle.

"It might be programed only to bring living beings. It could have come here at the Gate activation and retreated when the M.A.L.P. came through." Teal'c frowned, considering it. "Perhaps the device is slaved to the Stargate, reacting when it opens. Such things may be possible."

"I wonder if we could get the M.A.L.P. to go after the Colonel and Daniel," Sam speculated, eyeing the probe vehicle. "No," she disagreed with herself. "It would be too slow. We need something that would move faster, like the bikes SG-5 has been working on. Col. O'Neill and Daniel could be in danger."

"We do not know that they are hurt," Teal'c reassured her in a deep rumble. "This is not like Thor's Hammer, removing me to the labyrinth because I was Jaffa. If it were, I would have been the one taken, not O'Neill and Daniel Jackson."

"Yes, but there were locals to help us there," Sam remembered. "Gerwyn could explain what had happened. For now, let's just scout the surrounding terrain and see if anyone lives near the Gate. We might be able to find transportation here, but if not, I think we can go back and get something small and mobile."

They stayed close together, dipping into the trees at intervals, fallowing the path that would lead to Daniel and Jack for a short distance. The only sounds they heard besides their own footsteps were the wind in the trees, the calls of birds, the rustle of the grass. There was nothing to suggest a technological society or the presence of less advanced natives nearby. They found no trace of artifacts except the Gate itself and the trail they explored. Maybe the locals had moved away from the Gate in hopes of protecting themselves from Goa'uld arrivals.

It was beautiful and peaceful under the trees, the air heady with the crisp tang of pines, the breeze just strong enough to cool them as they walked. A carpet of pine needles made their footsteps quiet. No one would hear them coming, if anyone waited nearby.

But they weren't helping their captured teammates. Sam pointed down the slope toward the Stargate and they retraced their steps. "I don't like this," she admitted unnecessarily. "I hate it when we get separated and don't know what's going on. They could be in danger right now."

"Perhaps not," Teal'c disagreed. "They could have simply been taken to confer with the locals. We do not know they are in jeopardy." He sounded as if he would like very much to believe it but did not. The worry was imperfectly concealed in his stoic face. Assuming safety when there was no guarantee would not have been a survival characteristic for a Jaffa.

"True, but we don't know they aren't, and I think I'm going to have to proceed on the assumption that they're in trouble. The device that took them away was Goa'uld. That has to mean something. Unless this world is a Tokra stronghold, they'd be in major danger. I don't think it is, though. I'd pick up something from Jolinar's memories if it were, at least I think I would. And even if the natives of this world control Goa'uld technology, Col. O'Neill and Daniel still might need help."

"We do not know where they have gone," Teal'c pointed out.

"I know. But I want to go back and get vehicles. Maybe a backup squad. It seems peaceful here, but our friends are still gone."

They headed back for the Stargate. This was not like the time Teal'c had vanished on Cimmeria. That time, Gerwyn had been there to direct them. This time they had no idea what had happened. Better to go back for help. She stood before the DHD, sinking into thought, struggling after any useful information that might linger in her mind, but she got no wisps of memory left over from Jolinar, no matter how hard she sought it. Perhaps the Tokra had never been to P3R 888. The only choice was to go home and come back with another team, and transportation.

*****

Daniel's fingers were cramping. After the first few miles, he had carefully wrapped them in cloths to prevent blistering, but that didn't make the grip any easier for long periods of time. The angle of the travois made it necessary for him to lean slightly forward to compensate for Jack's weight, and he suspected he would ache all over before very long. Only the exercise and training he'd received as part of SG-1 and the year of hard living on Abydos made it possible for him to do it at all. The academic he had been when Catherine had recruited him would have found it far harder, although he had done some field work and had never been totally helpless, even then.

As if he'd guessed that Daniel had a need to flex his fingers, Galen bounced over. "I can do it for a time," he volunteered. The little Greek had attached himself to them, hovering at Daniel's side, pointing out rough spots in the trail, scouting ahead. He might not look very strong, but he was certainly energetic. He couldn't haul the travois for more than a mile or two before he spent his strength, but those miles always were enough to give Daniel back enough energy to continue.

"All right, but let's stop for a minute. I want to check on Jack." The colonel had been quiet for the past half hour, and Daniel was worried about him. It wasn't like O'Neill to keep from wisecracking, not when it was the tool he used to relieve stress in a crisis. The scientist was afraid it meant he was getting worse--or that he had passed out.

Lowering the travois in a grassy spot in the shade of a nearby pine, Daniel straightened up, stretching his back and flexing his fingers. They'd only been moving for an couple of hours, and the day was beginning to die. It had already been afternoon when they'd arrived on P3R 888. Daniel didn't know the length of the planetary days but they must be a little longer than Earth's. He thought they had maybe an hour of daylight left then some twilight Eventually they'd have to stop for the night, simply because his body would demand it. If they could find a sheltered, easily-defensible spot, they'd hole up there until morning.

He surveyed the tree line, narrowing his eyes and forcing himself into a listening posture, holding up a hand when Galen opened his mouth to comment. He could hear nothing but the sounds of nature around them, sense no presence but their own.

"I can't tell if anyone is there," he said. "And I don't feel like I'm being watched."

"Well, I do," Jack said abruptly. Par for the course. Even weakened and ill, Jack hadn't lowered his guard. He never did unless he was unconscious. A natural wariness was part of his being, and only in times of complete certainty and safety, with the other members of SG-1, did his guard really go down.

"So you're still with us." Daniel knelt beside him and produced a smile for his friend. "How do you feel?"

"Useless question #37 for the afternoon," Jack muttered. He didn't look good at all. His face was flushed, and when Daniel laid his palm against the Colonel's cheek, it was too hot.

"You've got a fever, Jack."

O'Neill's mouth quirked. "Give the man a gold star."

"Why didn't you say something?" Daniel challenged accusingly, panic surging through him. He'd been afraid of this all along. A fever didn't seem as threatening back home at SGC. Dr. Frasier had access to top of the line medical treatments and all the right antibiotics. She'd have had Jack's fever down right away. But out here, far from shelter, there was nothing to do, nothing but what Daniel had done already, and that hadn't worked.

He lifted away the blankets to check the wound. The dressing didn't seem saturated; that had to be good. He was reluctant to check it yet. His first aid classes back at the base said to change a dressing like this as often as it became soiled or dirty, and it didn't seem to be. That had to be a good sign--but it could mean the infection wasn't very far along either. It had only been a few hours. But from the way Jack looked and sounded, he wasn't on the road to recovery either. Daniel gritted his teeth. There had to be a faster way to get him back to the Gate. Or some native herbs or plants he could use to draw the fever out of the wound. He'd learned all those things on Abydos, which plant worked for a fever, what ground up crystals helped someone who had been exposed to the burning desert sun too long, what to use to ease pain, how to cure a belly-ache. But this wasn't Abydos, and its flora was unfamiliar. He couldn't risk experimenting on his friend. Without knowing what he was doing, the cure could be worse than the disease. Even if Galen knew some useful plants, Galen's people had not lived on Earth for millennia. What worked for him might not work on Jack--and besides, Galen's knife-wounded family members had died. Daniel shivered.

"Well, Doctor?" Jack prompted, and the look in his eyes said he'd been able to guess at some of Daniel's thoughts. He was trying to snap the scientist out of his unhappy funk.

"Well...there's no pus leaking through the dressing," Daniel admitted as if he should be rewarded. It wasn't much of a triumph, but it was the only positive offering he could make.

Jack grimaced. "Score one for the good guys, huh?"

"Exactly. Galen, when your people suffered knife wounds, how long did it take for the infection to set in?"

The little man knelt opposite Jack. "It was different for each," he admitted, pushing back the curled bangs from his forehead and massaging his temples. "Some were sick by this time. Others took longer, others who were strongest. My own brother Decco took three full days to die." Pain flared in his eyes at the memory but he pushed it aside. "We did not have the medicine you used and we could no longer use the sarcophagus. So Decco died as I held him, and left me here alone." A tear slid from one eye and traced a path down his cheek. He didn't seem to notice.

Daniel reached over and patted the smaller man's shoulder. "I'm sorry about your brother." Even Jack, who had not yet come to trust the local man, nodded in compassion. Jack knew all about the pain of loss. This was probably the first time he'd been in sympathy with their guide.

Galen was back to business in moments, collecting himself. He rubbed the back of his hand across his cheek in a hasty motion and bent to sniff at Jack's wound.

"What the heck is he doing?" O'Neill demanded, eyes narrowing as he watched.

"Sometimes you can smell the infection," Daniel explained. "They taught us that in the first aid classes, but I learned it on Abydos, too. It's not foolproof because there isn't always an odor. If there was, we'd know it was infected."

Galen straightened, shaking his head. "I cannot smell the poison," he remarked. "This is a good thing. I will pull the litter now. The Gate is still many miles distant."

Daniel helped him bind his hands, then the two of them lifted the travois together, Daniel balancing it until Galen was ready. They moved a little slower when he pulled, but it meant they were still moving while Jackson recharged his own energy. Carefully, he flexed his fingers again, then he bent and took one of the guns from O'Neill.

"I need you to listen, Jack," he told his injured friend. "You're a lot better than I am at telling when somebody's watching us." He wanted to offer Jack a distraction. It had been a long time since the Colonel had offered to walk on his own. Usually the most stubbornly determined of the team when it came to carrying on in the face of injury, Jack had to be feeling pretty crummy to keep quiet now.

"Yeah, you get distracted by some science things and a whole marching band could creep up on you," Jack returned. There was an edge of pain in his voice that Daniel didn't like. Next time they stopped, he'd check the wound and clean it out again. At least they were moving toward the Stargate. Help should be coming soon.

*****

"And the flying machine didn't come back in the entire time you were searching the area?" General George Hammond demanded. He and the two remaining members of SG-1 had met in the briefing room when they returned to the base without Col. O'Neill and Daniel.

"Not while we were there. And there's no evidence of anything like that in the preliminary M.A.L.P. images either," Sam admitted. "It's possible the 'electric eye' only responds to living tissue. It isn't selectively programmed to seek out Jaffa, either, the way the device was on Cimmeria. When it took the Colonel and Daniel, I think it was simply because they were the closest, the easiest for it to grab. Whether it would have come back for us if we'd waited long enough, we can't tell. It's possible Jack or Daniel had to disable it to get away."

"And you saw no signs of civilization or people in the vicinity?" Hammond did not look at all happy. He had only been through the Gate once, trying to rescue SG-1, when the need had been diplomatic. Sam suspected he always worried about his teams when they were set out, and she also had an idea SG-1 was his favorite team, although, as commander of the project, he could not play favorites.

"There was no sign of life," Teal'c volunteered. "The Gate was in an untended area and the DHD was partially overgrown. I do not believe anyone has used the gate on P3R 888 in may years, possibly decades or centuries."

"But the trails were not completely overgrown, sir," Sam replied. "I believe the planet has inhabitants, simply that they do not live near the Stargate. It's possible the mechanical bird took Jack and Daniel to a settlement. They may be fine. But we don't know that. I request permission to take transportation back through the Gate with us and go after them."

Hammond frowned. "From what you've reported it is almost night on that planet right now. Even if you took transportation with you, you'd be trying to find your way in the dark on overgrown and unfamiliar trails."

Sam was sure he meant to insist they wait for planetary morning before going back. "Begging your pardon, sir, but we could at least make a start today. It's true we don't know that our missing teammates are injured or need us immediately, but we don't know that they don't. Besides, Teal'c says the mechanical bird is an ancient Goa'uld device. It's possible there may be other useful artifacts to bring back to satisfy the brass."

Hammond frowned. "I'm not stalling you, Captain Carter. And I don't need to be tempted with devices with possible military applications to consider sending you back, not when my people are in trouble. Naturally we must rescue the rest of SG-1. I'm simply considering the level of risk."

"Sir, we know the risk," Teal'c said levelly. "We choose to take it for our comrades."

"That was never in question, Teal'c." Hammond frowned. "What would you want to use for transportation, Captain?"

"Some of the SG teams have talked about motorcycle transport," Sam replied. "You've seen SG-5's reports on their tests, I'm sure. Modified dirt bikes to handle rugged terrain seem appropriate. Captain Harrison and Lt. Ryder from SG-5 took a couple of bikes up Pike's Peak a couple of weeks ago and liked they way they performed. Dr. Cleaver in SG-8 said something about attaching sidecars to use to bring back injured teammates or artifacts we might locate. Aren't there tests being run on the possibility? Couldn't we use them for a test run now? It would get us to the others faster. If they were mobile and able to use the mechanical birds to return to the Gate, they would have returned to base already."

Hammond considered her words, then he nodded. "Do it. I'll order SG-5 to accompany you. They're not on a mission now and aren't scheduled to leave again until next week. We aren't dealing with a primitive society living directly in the presence of the Stargate. If there's a Goa'uld presence on the planet, which seems unlikely unless they came by ship rather than through the Stargate, you'd benefit by the speed you'd gain. But one thing, Captain. Do either you or Teal'c know how to ride a motorcycle?"

Sam grinned. "My brother had one when we were kids, sir. He taught me to ride it. I was pretty good."

"I do not," Teal'c admitted. "But for O'Neill and Daniel Jackson, I will learn quickly."

*****

Exhausted, Galen lowered the travois to the ground. He had dragged it further than Daniel had expected, and he had to respect the little man for the effort. Daniel could understand his own willingness to work himself into exhaustion for Jack--Jack was his best friend--but the Greek need only have pulled the travois a mile or two, to give Daniel a breather. Instead, he had persisted. They must have come five miles.

The sun had gone down a little while ago, but it was not yet full dark. With the fading of the light had come a little breeze, one that held an edge of chill. When the full night came, it was going to be a cold one. Jack would need his blankets more than ever.

Flinging himself to the ground to catch his breath and work his stiffened fingers, Galen lifted his eyes to the scientist, and Daniel saw that they gleamed with pride. "I am small but I work hard," he said. Remembering the delicate white hands of the man who had first met them, Daniel could only smile at him in gratitude as he went to Jack.

O'Neill's eyes were closed but he did not look comfortable. When Jackson rested his palm on the older man's forehead, it was far too hot, and the Colonel didn't open his eyes at the touch. He hadn't noticed their stop either, and that was bad. Daniel would have expected him to warn about a break, a period of distraction when the natives might decide to attack. Always wary in a field situation, Jack should be in there pitching right now, alerting them to the danger. Instead, he lay shifting restlessly on the travois, his mouth twisting slightly as if in pain. Daniel's heart sank down to rest against the soles of his feet.

The dressing was stained. Bad. This is bad, bad, bad. With a grimace, Daniel removed it. Oh, no. The wound leaked pus, a greenish-yellow color. Infection, all right. He'd seen wounds go like this on Abydos. They had a medicine for it there that worked a lot of the time, a crystal substance they'd ground into powder with primitive mortar and pestle. Daniel had none of it, and this world must have no counterpart or Galen's brother, Decco, need not have died. What do I do now, Jack?" Daniel thought in helpless panic. I'm not going to let you die. It had taken Decco three days. But then Decco was native to the planet and might have resistance to some of its native microbes. Jack could go faster, and all Daniel's determination to save him might not change a thing.

Galen sat up and edged closer, his eyes widening. He opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again and proffered his water flask. They had brought five of them with them, filled with water they'd boiled before they left, most of them lying on the travois by Jack's feet, but Daniel could see it wouldn't be enough. They had to find a water supply. An open stream was probably unhealthy but it would be better than this, and they could boil that water too.

Bathing and cleaning the wound didn't bring Jack from the dark place he had gone. But when Daniel worked more of the antiseptic cream into the wound, he moaned and twisted, struggling to pull away from the bad thing that hurt him, even in his unconsciousness. Daniel felt like a brute. Quickly he put on a new dressing, knowing the wound would need to be changed far more often now. Peeling off the latex gloves, he sagged back on his heels, spent and miserable.

It was then that the natives attacked. They did it so silently only the swish of the spear that missed his head by inches warned him. With a yell of warning at Galen, he grabbed up the gun and whirled, firing. Beside him, Galen drew arrow after arrow and loosed them with amazing precision at the poorly-seen shapes in the trees.

The natives didn't emerge from the forest, but he could see movement there, and he fired at it, raking the position with bullets. More spears flew, then he heard cries of pain and panic and knew he'd hit at least one, maybe two of them. A spear missed Jack by mere inches, impaling itself in the fabric of the travois between the staff weapon pole and Jack's side. Daniel stared at the quivering shaft for a stunned moment, then his eyes moved to Jack's shuttered face. He hadn't reacted at all.

Enraged and protective, Daniel grabbed Jack's gun, too, and, firing both of them at once, he ran toward the natives, yelling at the top of his lungs. Two more spears came at him, and he was so furious he didn't even try to duck. When they swished through the places a sane man might have jumped to avoid them, the natives in the forest shrieked superstitiously and fled. Maybe they thought he was a Goa'uld with his own personal shield device. Whatever the reason, their cries held sheer terror. Daniel chased them the way Han Solo had chased the stormtroopers on the Death Star for nearly a quarter of a mile, bellowing, utterly caught up in the fierce need to drive them away. Unlike the stormtroopers, they didn't turn on him and attack in a body. Instead, they vanished into the thicker growth of pines, finally disappearing altogether, their frightened cries fading with distance until he could no longer hear a sound.

Abruptly, the battle rage passed and he staggered to a stop, gasping for breath. The trees drew in around him and it was very dark in their shade. What the hell had just happened? Stunned, he remembered his furious passage and the fierce purpose that had driven him. No one was going to hurt Jack. No one!

But he'd left Jack alone with Galen. What if they'd circled around?

Racing back to the trail, he jerked to a breathless stop at the sight of Galen standing protectively over Jack, an arrow nocked in his bow, his face full of breathless panic. When he saw Daniel, he sagged back, relieved, and put the bow aside.

"You are still alive," Galen said in considerable astonishment. He looked down at the unconscious O'Neill then up at Daniel again, and his eyes held a combination of respect and understanding. "I did not see it until now. He is your Decco, isn't he?"

Lowering the guns, Daniel closed his eyes for a moment, then he came over to the travois and knelt beside O'Neill, touching the hot forehead again. "He's my friend," he said simply, remembering all the times Jack had been there for him, the way Jack had of yanking him back from trouble, the time he had comforted him when he was fighting the addiction to the sarcophagus, the way his face had warmed into overjoyed relief when he realized Daniel had survived the destruction of Apophis' and Klorel's ships over Earth. And for the first time in his life, Daniel came to the shaken realization that the word 'friend' was far too small and too limiting for what Jack meant to him, for what he owed the Colonel, for the devastation he would feel if Jack died. "Yes," he admitted, smiling shakily. "He's my Decco."

"I have never seen anything so brave," Galen said. "The way you drove them off...."

Daniel laughed shakily. "It wasn't brave," he admitted. "It was crazy, but when I saw how close they'd come to hitting him, I guess I just went berserk."

"It was a good way to go berserk," Galen reassured him. He stretched out a delicate, white hand and clasped Daniel's forearm in approval, his breath suddenly hissing between his teeth at the touch.

Daniel caught his wrist and pulled him free, turning his hand over. Blisters had begun to rise on his reddened palms and fingers. Galen wasn't used to physical labor. He'd never done any, not when he lived in a place where everything he needed came automatically.

"Let me put something on that for you," Daniel offered. "I don't need two of you sick."

"You, too, have blisters?"

In surprise, Daniel turned his hands palm-up. "No. Not yet." But he would probably have a whole crop of his own before they reached the Stargate. Prodding his left palm with the fingers of his right hand, he realized the flesh was definitely tender. It wouldn't take much more hauling the travois to bring up a blister or two. But that didn't matter. What did was getting Jack back through the Stargate so his wound could be treated. He had to hope Teal'c and Sam were on their way to him right now.

As he dressed the Greek's fingers, his eyes moved up the trail that sloped slightly uphill. "Do you know this path?" he asked hopefully, although he doubted Galen's people would have ranged far from the protection of the pyramid, especially since their numbers had grown so small.

"No, I have not come so far before. I am sorry."

"Well...the reason I asked is because I was just wondering; the trail's rising. If we could find some cliffs, we could camp with them at our back. That way, the natives couldn't sneak up on us from all directions. It would be easier to keep watch." He'd learned that from Jack, too. Put something at your back that's defensible and it's easier to fight off an attack. With two guns and a limited supply of clips, he wasn't sure how long he could withstand an all-out attack, but he had to make it as safe as possible, get them through the night.

"I do not think they will come back."

Daniel paused and stared at him in surprise. "Why not?"

"They believe you are a demon." He smiled faintly. "A Goa'uld. I can understand their language a little, and they were screaming and clicking about a demon when they ran. They are not subtle people, but they are hunters. They expect their prey to dodge when they attack. They throw their spears accordingly. You didn't duck. You just came right on, and their throws missed. A part of them can't conceive of that. They think you are protected by the gods--or by evil demons. I do not think they will attack again--at least not before morning."

Daniel blinked in surprise. It had just been so necessary to drive them away from Jack that nothing else had mattered. When that spear had hit so close to his friend, Daniel hadn't even stopped to consider the consequences. He'd heard of battle rages but he wasn't a soldier. He had never imagined himself in the situation, although he'd learned it was in him to kill, given the provocation. He'd shocked Sam down to her socks when he'd blasted the container holding the infant Goa'uld larvae on Chulak and he didn't want to think how many Jaffa he'd blasted. Before he'd met Jack and gone to Abydos, he'd never had anyone he wanted to protect, needed to protect, since his parents died. Now he had family, people who depended on him as he depended upon them. He would keep Jack alive and safe, get him back to the Stargate, or he would go down trying.

He returned to Jack, checked his bandage, then resettled the blankets and stood up. "We'd better keep going. We'll have to start looking for shelter. It's getting awfully dark." The pine forest loomed around them, shadowy, mysterious, and menacing. The natives could have crept back, lurking just out of sight, although he couldn't sense their presence.

Galen put out his hand for one of the guns. "I will carry it. I watched you fire and I think I can do it." His earnest eyes scrutinized and waited. He was asking for trust.

Daniel hesitated, glancing down at Jack, who hadn't even roused when Daniel was firing right over his head. He wasn't able to keep watch, and the few arrows from the bow wouldn't help. Galen's quiver was seriously depleted already. But it was the small man's understanding of Daniel's concern for his friend that made the decision easy. With a tired smile, Daniel passed the gun over and explained quickly how to use it. "It has a kick," he added with a grin. "You get used to it, but at first it feels...weird. I never fired a gun in my life before I met Jack. I'd never had to."

Galen took the gun and held it proudly, careful to point it away from his new allies. His pointy face lit up in delight as he realized Daniel trusted him.

Wrapping his hands quickly, Daniel knelt to pick up the ends of the travois, determined to resume their journey and find them shelter for the night.

*****

"It's too dark to go on."

Sam balanced her feet on the ground, shutting off the dirt bike beside Captain Deke Harrison of SG-5. Over the past fifteen minutes, the trail had grown progressively harder to see, even in the glow of the motorcycles' headlights. They'd only had time to ride for about half an hour, once the path they followed plunged into the thicker forest. If P3R 888 had a moon it was rising late because only distant stars overhead added faint illumination to the headlights' offering. Besides, there was no way to tell how far Daniel and Col. O'Neill had been taken. They might even now be on their way back, or camped for the night off the road where the rescue team might pass them without seeing them.

"They're still out there," Sam reminded the other officer. Deke Harrison was a good man and he'd done excellent work with his team. But it wasn't his teammates stranded on an unfamiliar planet. He didn't have the same urgent need to go on that she and Teal'c did.

Teal'c had taken a few practice runs on the bike under Harrison's coaching before they went through the Stargate. Then, as good as he was likely to get without a great deal more training, he had declared himself ready. General Hammond gave the go ahead and the six of them, she and Teal'c and Harrison's team, had walked the bikes through the Stargate. Two of Deke's team had machines with sidecars fitted in case the missing men were wounded. The minute they had come through they gate, they had deployed in case the bird-machine should return. It had made no appearance.

A search of the immediate area detected no evidence that anyone else had been there. The trip wires Sam had left to test the site's isolation remained unbroken. "No one's come since we left," she announced, relieved.

"Then we'd better move out." Harrison surveyed what they could see of the trail through field glasses. They all had night scopes for later. "Fairly rough, but used occasionally," he decided. He was a tall, lean man with a bony face and prominent eyebrow ridges over deepset eyes such a light hazel as to appear almost golden. In his off-duty time, he liked to play the guitar accompanying himself in a very mellow baritone voice. Sam remembered an evening in the rec room not long ago where Harrison had played Irish folk songs Sam remembered from the Clancy Brothers albums her father had enjoyed when she was a child, everyone joining in on the choruses. Jack had sung along with great gusto, having a wonderful time, and Daniel had surprised them all by knowing nearly all the words. He and Jack had done an impromptu duet of The Minstrel Boy while Harrison strummed chords softly in the background.

They had to be alive out there somewhere. Sam remembered the warm companionship she had felt for her team that night, the way Teal'c had listened earnestly to the words and, when prompted, had sung several ballads from Chulak in a voice both deep and true. That had led Daniel to offer a song he'd learned on Abydos, and after that he'd grown quiet and reflective, thinking about Sha're. While Sam had watched, Jack had gone over to sit beside him, murmured something in an undertone that made Daniel look up and smile, and then Jack had plunged into Let It Be. After that, they'd gone on to other Beatles songs, and then further back, old Kingston Trio music. Where Have All the Flowers Gone. Sam had seen General Hammond pausing in the doorway once, a smile of contentment on his face as he watched his teams enjoying themselves.

That night seemed a hundred years ago. Staring up through the pines at the unfamiliar constellations so far overhead, Sam wanted to grab Deke Harrison's arm and shake him, insisting they keep going.

But this was an unexplored world. There could be dangers she couldn't imagine just over the next ridge. Deke was right. They had to stop for the night. Even the night scopes couldn't provide the visibility they really needed.

"I could continue," Teal'c volunteered. "I could scout the trail." His loyalty was unquestioning and she knew he admired Jack beyond his ability to express it and that he had felt protective urges for Daniel that would make him search until he dropped. He had a determination that couldn't be rocked. She would have loved to reward that with permission to continue, but they couldn't take that chance.

"No, you might miss a vital clue in the dark," she decided. "The Captain's right, Teal'c. This is as far as we can go."

Lt. Jake Ryder, Harrison's second in command, turned back from a side path he'd been investigating. A tall, dark-haired man who was one of the best chopper pilots on the base, Ryder was known to be a little hot-headed with a quick temper, but he was as loyal to Harrison as Jack's team was to him. "There's a sheltered spot down the trail, Deke," he said, gesturing with his thumb. "We can camp there for the night."

Teal'c looked disappointed, but he bowed his head in acquiescence.

Harrison started wheeling his bike down the side trail. "We'll move out at first light."

*****

Daniel had been a little iffy about the campfire; it would bring the natives and, even if it didn't, it would reveal the camp's location. On such a dark night, the glow of the flames would reflect off the stone face of the cliff at their back and show through the trees for many miles. But Jack was still too hot to the touch and he seemed to be shivering a little, so Daniel sent Galen to fetch dried branches while he cleared a spot and marked it off with big, flat stones. Soon the blaze was crackling merrily, adding warmth to the chill of the planet's night. They lay the travois next to it so Jack could feel its heat.

He was glad of the light when he exposed Jack's bandage and found it was saturated again. He took a pan from his backpack and boiled water from the nearby stream for cleaning. Nearly gagging at the sight of the pus that oozed from the wound, he washed it out as thoroughly as he possibly could. Galen hung at his shoulder and watched, his face twisting into a moue of distress.

"Decco's wound did that," he said reluctantly.

Daniel rounded on him. "Jack's not going to die! When I get him home we have powerful medicines that will drive the poison out of his system. He'll be fine." God, he was shouting because he so desperately wanted to convince himself. He had to believe that. He had to know he was going to get Jack home.

"He'll be fine if he can sleep without somebody yelling in his ear," muttered a weak voice at his side. Looking down, Daniel realized Jack was awake, alert, and watching him.

"Hey, Jack," he said softly. "Welcome back. You were out of it there for awhile."

O'Neill looked past him to the dark forest, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face before he concealed it. "I take it we're still on P3R 888?"

Daniel nodded. "We've stopped for the night. It was just too dark to keep going. It wouldn't help your leg if we fell off a cliff." There was no way to have gone further, not when he and Galen were both too exhausted to pull the travois, and it was too dark now to expect rescue before dawn, but he couldn't help thinking he'd failed Jack.

"Only thing you could have done." The Colonel sounded weak and tired, but there was reassurance in the thinness of his voice, as if he'd guessed what the scientist was thinking. A struggle to prop himself up on one elbow failed miserably and the best he could do was to lift his head a little to peer down at the exposed wound. "Infected, huh?"

Daniel nodded. "It's draining pretty bad. I'll keep cleaning it through the night. We've got plenty of water here." He waved his hand off in the direction of the stream. "We'll boil what we need and make sure it's clean."

"Get some sleep yourself," Jack urged. "You've been hauling me all this way. ...need your rest."

"Galen and I are taking turns," Daniel explained. "We split up the night into a series of watches."

"You trust him?"

Daniel nodded. "We've been through some things together. He can handle it."

"Daniel fought off an attack single-handed," Galen put in softly, startling Jack, who had not for a second looked beyond the anthropologist.

"What have you been up to?" Jack quirked an eyebrow, his eyes twinkling. But there was a question written in his face.

"They--nearly got you with a spear." Daniel bent over the wound again, unable to meet that look. "And it made me--kind of mad."

Galen pitched in and described the attack with a wealth of detail that embarrassed Daniel. He busied himself with the antiseptic cream, avoiding Jack's eyes.

A hand caught his arm and stopped him. It wasn't the pain he had to be inflicting that caused it. Jack's fingers tightened. When Daniel looked up, O'Neill smiled. "Rambo Jackson," he teased gently, but there was understanding and gratitude in his words--and a frustrated worry.

"I had to, Jack."

"It was a stupid risk," O'Neill growled. "You could have turned into a pincushion. Next time, convince them you're possessed by devils without making yourself a target, okay?" The fingers shook his arm lightly. "Thanks."

"They'll probably be back at dawn," Daniel said ruefully. He knew he'd taken a crazy risk and that it was probably bad strategy, but there was respect in Jack's eyes and that made up for a lot.

Sensing his discomfort, O'Neill turned his head and surveyed the small clearing Galen had discovered. The rock wall rose a good two hundred feet at their backs, the stream ran along the edge of the cliff, bubbling and dancing amid stones as it plunged downhill in a series of rapids that would make it impossible for the natives to paddle down in canoes, at least not without full daylight. A series of boulders that had fallen from the rockface a long time ago, to judge by the vines that grew around them, provided shelter in the direction of the trail, and the cliff curved around to block the other side. It would be a hard place to attack even in daylight. Given enough rounds of ammunition, they could hold off an assault for a long time. "At least we've got shelter here. Good site."

"It was the best place we could find in the dark. Jack, we've got some soup. It's pack rations and hardly gourmet stuff, but you need to take some. If I propped you up, do you think you could eat."

O'Neill's mouth twisted with sheer distaste. "Not hungry," he muttered succinctly.

"I know you're not. But you need to keep your strength up. I think we can expect Sam and Teal'c to find us not much past first light, but we have to get you through the night first, and you need something hot in you. It's going to be cold."

"Yeah, and I have...all the blankets." He tightened his grip on Daniel's arm. "You can't pull the travois if...you're a lump of ice."

"Don't fight me on this, Jack. You need the blankets. We've got a fire, and it isn't bad here." He was cold already and knew the night would be endless. But pulling the travois would warm him up in the morning. Taping the new dressing into place, he cleaned up quickly, shedding the latex gloves. He was running out of them too. Then he reached out for the bowl of soup Galen had fetched. "Time to eat, Jack."

O'Neill had flinched when Daniel taped the dressing in place, but now he turned his slightly blurred expression on Daniel. "Smells good, Sarah," he murmured.

Oh, no. He was fading out, confusion setting in. Daniel's stomach twisted. "Teal'c would say, 'I am not Sarah'," he tried, mimicking the Jaffa's voice as best he could. Jack's face didn't clear or rouse to humor. He murmured something else that sounded like, "Time to get Charlie off to school."

Galen's eyebrow lifted. "Decco was confused, too," he said under his breath, shooting an apologetic glance at Daniel as if he hated having to say the words.

"Time to eat, Jack," Daniel insisted stoically. Handing the bowl to Galen, he eased Jack up into a near-sitting position, letting the injured man rest against his shoulder. Galen pressed the spoon against his lips.

"Eat, Jack." Daniel kept his voice from quivering with an effort. He could feel the heat radiating from his friend's fevered body. "It's all right to eat. You're safe here."

By dint of much coaxing, they convinced the Colonel to take about two thirds of the bowl before he turned his head away petulantly. He shivered into the curve of Daniel's shoulder. "Don' wan' any more."

"We'll have some more later." Daniel started to ease him down again but Jack resisted, curling more tightly against him. Sighing inaudibly, Daniel pulled him close again and rested his chin against the top of O'Neill's head. A few minutes wouldn't hurt, and maybe he could get Jack to sleep. Holding him protectively, he gave Galen a helpless glance. Galen smiled and tactfully eased away to remove the soup. He busied himself about the camp, tactfully giving Daniel time to regain his control again. Seeing Jack like this was just so hard. Jack had always been strong, holding crises at bay with ready quips. Maybe Sam had seen him like this in Antarctica, but she had never said so. She'd granted Jack his dignity, and Daniel would, too. He closed his eyes and began to hum gently under his breath a lullaby he'd learned on Abydos.

When he was sure O'Neill was sleeping, he eased him down on the pallet again, propped a pack under his legs to elevate them, and covered him with all the blankets. "Rest now, Jack. It's okay," he soothed, letting his fingers drift across the too-hot forehead. Jack didn't stir.

Galen drifted back and passed Daniel his own dinner. "You need to eat too," he said. "You worked very hard today."

"What choice did I have?" Daniel asked bitterly.

"None, of course. But you must rest now--and build your own strength. He needs it of you."

That was true. Daniel took the soup, although he wasn't much hungry either, sat cross-legged at Jack's side, and made himself eat every spoonful. At least it traced a warm path down to his stomach, and that was good in the chill of the dark night that was sure to become far colder before the dawn.

"It's harder when the strong become weak," Galen offered sympathetically.

"Jack isn't weak." The words burst from him in defiance and frustration. Galen had not seen Jack at his best. He couldn't possibly understand the bedrock strength of the man. He knew what the smaller man meant, of course, but the urge to defend his friend was all mixed up with the need to protect him.

"No, it would not be his nature. But you depend upon him to be strong." He smiled. "And he is the strong one, a very strong man. But so, too, are you strong, my friend, and I believe he depends upon you as well. Your strengths and his are simply different. That makes you a better team--and better friends."

Daniel found a weary smile and rewarded Galen with it. "You're a wise man."

"No, just a solitary thinker. When you live alone with none for company, you create many odd fancies for yourself. I had almost forgotten what it feels like to talk to another. I cannot talk to the tribes, although I know something of their tongue. But you and your friend are civilized men." He heaved a massive sigh. "You have both been kind to me, but I think perhaps I will have no place in your world."

"Why do you say that?" Daniel looked up in surprise from his inspection of his palms for blisters.

"Your weapons are strange and powerful, like the weapons of the Gods. I think, too, your ways are strange. Your people know as much as--as the Goa'uld. My people were simple, peaceful. We are thinkers and dreamers but we are not builders and inventors. Listening to you talk, I realize there is so much I would not know or understand. Yet, if you take me, I will come with you, because to go back to the solitude when I have known companionship again would be to die inside." He shivered, his pointy face full of pain. "I could never go back. I would rather take a native spear through the heart than accept solitude again."

Daniel's heart ached for the lonely man. "Maybe we could find a home for you with people not unlike yourself. There are many worlds beyond the Stargate, and some of them have become our allies. They would be kind to you."

Galen's eyes widened with dazzling hope. "You would do that for such as I?"

"We've done such things before. Besides, you helped us. You need not have done more than given me shelter to bandage Jack and then send us on our way. You helped me fight the natives. I think there's a debt to pay here." He suspected a strong core of pride lived in the little Greek. To know he had earned his way would make it easier for him to accept it. He smiled at the little man. "Besides, we try to help people when we can. It's the way my people are--when we're at our best. Tell me about your people and your life here--if it doesn't upset you too much?"

Galen's eyes were shadowed but that could have been because the light from the fire was intermittent and dancing. He twisted his mouth around a little as if pondering how best to start, then he said, "We called this world Elysium when we first came here because it was so beautiful. I have seen the old records. Our forebears loved the world. It was only over the centuries we began to see the problem."

"Problem?" Daniel hadn't expected that. "You mean the natives?"

"No, they were always there, sometimes friendly, sometimes antagonistic. They are much like us but not of our blood. There are differences; they are a different race. We know this is a planet far from the one where our race was born. Perhaps you come from that planet, for you and Jack look human."

"Yes, you came from our world, I think. From a place called Greece, I think."

Galen's head bobbed in agreement. "That name sounds familiar. I am sure I have seen it in my writing. So your world is the ancient home? Maybe that is why we went so wrong here. Because there is something in the ancient home that is missing here."

"Missing? What do you mean?" Daniel was fascinated but he tried to hold down his eagerness for answers because he was sure Galen was talking about the death of his race. "Some chemical element missing, you mean, that would have let your people survive?"

"Something missing from what we ate or breathed or drank here--or something added that was not healthy for us. We never knew. But over the centuries we saw it happen. Fewer and fewer of us were born each year. Those who lived were often sickly. We grew smaller physically. Weaker. Long ago, we had a big civilization here, beyond the pyramid." He pointed back the way they had come. "But there were fewer and fewer of us; we could no longer grow crops for ourselves. We went to live in the pyramid a generation or so ago. Decco was the youngest of us, the last child born. He and I lived longest because we were the strongest of our generation. When he was gone, I had nothing, but it is not our way to end our lives deliberately. We know of such possibilities but consider that a great evil. So I had to live on alone, hiding from the primitives, who knew they could possess the pyramid if they could but kill me." He gave a wry shrug. "Maybe that is why so few of them followed me. When I left, perhaps they took it for their own."

Daniel had heard of such things happening, items missing from diets, although it was more a science fiction staple than something he'd witnessed in his journeys through the Stargate. The Land of Light had faced that problem with the sickness that attacked the histamines in the blood. Elysium must be similar to Earth, but not enough for the race to thrive. Humans were tough and could get by on terribly unhealthy diets. It had taken several millennia for Galen's people to die. Now there would be no more of them--but at least Daniel could make sure Galen didn't have to live alone. He was a civilized man, learned in his way. There had to be a world out there among Earth's new allies that would take him and make him feel welcome and wanted.

"That could be," he admitted, imagining the natives gleefully possessing the pyramid. "But I think they might still come. We'll have to stand watch, taking turns through the night." He opened a bottle of drinking water and passed it to Galen. "I'm very sorry about your people."

"I, too." Galen shivered, rubbing his upper arms energetically. His robes were thin, a fine line that left his legs bare below the knees. "I will go and sit by the fire. I will take the first watch. You pulled him a long way. You need to rest first."

Daniel ached with tiredness. He shuddered to think how his muscles would have stiffened up by morning; already he could feel the tightness in his back, shoulders and arms, and he suspected his leg muscles weren't far behind. No matter how fit he was, pulling a travois was an action most people on Earth didn't practice for. He'd used his strength in a new way, and he'd pay for it. Even lying down for an hour or two would make getting up that much harder. But he was afraid he wouldn't be able to stay awake for his watch, and he thought Galen could. Slight and wiry though he was, the Greek was as fit as the planet allowed him to be, and he hadn't pulled the travois nearly as far as Daniel had.

Besides, there was a trust issue here, although it was a tough one. Galen had proved his trustworthiness to Daniel's satisfaction. He felt sorry for the little man, for the loss of his people, for the death of his brother, leaving him alone on a world full of enemies. But Jack was the one who would pay the price if Daniel's trust was misplaced. He was willing to take the chance with his own life--but not with Jack's.

"I'll take the first watch," he said, standing up and stretching painfully. Already, the motion hurt, and he winced, beginning to massage his shoulders. "If I don't move around a little my muscles will be too stiff for me to get up in the morning. Rest an hour, and then we'll trade."

Galen tilted his head to look up from his seat beside the fire. Curled up there, his hands outstretched to the warmth, his face held understanding, not only of Daniel's aching muscles but of his protectiveness. "I would not have left Decco for the first watch either," he said, nodding. "All right." He lay down as close to the blaze as was safe, curling up still further, tugging the skirts of his pleated tunic down to cover as much of his legs as possible. Daniel would have liked to share the blankets with him, but Jack needed them more. Galen would not be comfortable, but he would not freeze either.

"I'm...sorry," Daniel breathed.

"I do understand." The Greek closed his eyes. He must have been far more exhausted than he'd let on because his breathing steadied immediately, slow and regular.

Suddenly Daniel felt more alone than he could remember experiencing in a long time. Grabbing up a gun, he sat down with his back against a boulder, as close to Jack as he could. Reaching out with his other hand, he let it rest on the Colonel's head. O'Neill shifted position slightly but didn't displace the touch. Instead he made a faint, inarticulate sound of contentment as if he knew, even in the depths of unconsciousness, that the hand did not belong to a stranger, that it was someone to trust.

Daniel gnawed on his bottom lip. "Easy, Jack," he said. "It'll be all right." If only he could make those words true. If willing them true could do it, rescue would come sailing around the edge of the bluff in the next five minutes.

Daniel shook his head in exasperation. No one was coming, not in the solid black night of Elysium. Not even the natives could find their way to sneak up on them noiselessly. The fire might reveal the location of their prey, but it wouldn't make it that much easier for them to creep up undetected. Besides, Jackson suspected Galen was right, that they wanted the pyramid. He hoped that desire would be enough to keep them away until Teal'c and Sam came for them, probably with another SG team in tow, first thing in the morning.

The night was huge and still with only an insect chorus, distant croaks that sounded like Elysium's equivalent of frogs, and the rustle of the pine needles in the breeze to break the stillness. Breathing deeply of the tangy air, Daniel made a point of getting up and moving around the perimeter every five minutes, wincing at the way his muscles pulled with each bend and stretch. Briefly setting the gun on a flat rock, he did a series of exercises. It was an lesson in masochism.

To distract himself from the pain when he had reclaimed the weapon and returned to Jack's side, he thought about the planet, so beautiful, so deadly. Was there really something missing from the environment that had gradually wiped out Galen's race? Or was there something added, a chemical in the food chain, perhaps, that weakened humans over a long period of time? He and Jack would be safe from that, whatever it was. It had taken millennia for the race to die out, and here was Galen, a lone survivor, small and delicately built but strong enough. Would he thrive on a different world or wither and die of loneliness among people not his own? From the eagerness with which he'd attached himself to them, Daniel knew how much he craved companionship. But eventually it would hit him that his new companions were not his own people. Daniel remembered a willingness to risk Nem's machine that might kill him because death had seemed preferable to never seeing Sha're and his friends again. But Galen's friends were gone and his brother had died in his arms.

Daniel shuddered. He'd never had a brother in blood. His parents' only child, he had gone to foster homes after their death, and none of the children he had met in such places had ever understood him, accepted his love of learning, his fascination with the unknown. None of them had become a brother, a kindred spirit.

Jack wasn't as interested in the complexity of an unsolved problem either--but, in maturity, Daniel had realized a brother didn't have to be a man who shared every interest. He had to be someone who mattered, who cared.

Daniel was terrified that his brother might die in his arms like Decco before rescue came.

Before it was time to awaken Galen, he cleaned Jack's wound again, irrigating it thoroughly. It was still seeping green pus, but cleaning it regularly was the only option until Daniel could get him home through the Stargate. Jack didn't awaken during the process, and his face was still hot with fever. Worse, he was restless, muttering to himself and shifting, trying feebly to push Daniel away. He soothed the injured man with reassuring words that won no response, then put clean gauze pads over the wound. He was afraid his supply of them would run out before he could get Jack home, but he had to do the best he could and trust that Sam and Teal'c would find a means of rescue.

After another circuit of the camp's perimeter to make sure no one had crept up on him while he'd been absorbed with his doctoring, Daniel made his way painfully back to the campfire and tossed a few more branches on it so it wouldn't burn itself out. The movement and the snap and sizzle of the piney branches in the fire roused Galen. He yawned and sat up, briskly rubbing his arms to stir his blood and warm himself up.

"I am rested now," he proclaimed, knuckling sleep-heavy eyes before he reached for his bow and quiver. "I will watch while you rest. Did you change the bandage?"

"Yes, just now. Wake me if you hear anything that might be the natives--or other dangers," Daniel warned. He hadn't meant to sleep yet, but it was necessary. He'd had to fight sleep for some time now, in spite of the anxiety that coiled in his stomach like a snake and the way his muscles twinged when he shifted inadvertently the wrong way. Taking off his glasses, he rubbed his eyes, but that didn't help. "But only for an hour." He stowed his glasses in a pocket and fastened the flap under them, then knelt beside Jack. He couldn't be warm enough. Even though his cheek was warm to Daniel's touch, the scientist worried that he would chill.

There was only one thing to do. Putting his gun within reach of his hand, he lifted the edge of the blankets and eased in beside Jack, pulling the unresisting body against his own. It would keep them both warm. He could remember a night when he and Skaara had been caught by a sandstorm and had to seek shelter in a distant oasis. Returning home into the night, the chill had caught them and they had huddled together for warmth, just like this, coming through the night because they could depend on each other.

Remembering Skaara's face as Klorel when he had tried to destroy Daniel with his glove weapon, he shivered. He couldn't save Skaara now, or Sha're. But Jack was here and Jack needed him.

O'Neill stiffened momentarily, then wiggled involuntarily closer to the warmth of human contact, coming awake with a jerk when the change in position jarred his leg.

"Easy, easy, Jack," Daniel breathed softly. "It's all right."

There was a long pause, but Daniel didn't think Jack had gone back to sleep. He tightened his grip on his friend. After a second, a hoarse voice muttered against his ear, "Does this mean we're engaged?"

Daniel couldn't help the laugh that sputtered free. "I'm a married man, remember," he countered, squashing down the pain at the memory of his lost wife. "It's okay, Jack, I'm just making sure you're warm enough."

"I'm too hot." The voice was fretful, but Jack must have heard how he sounded because he called himself to order and turned himself into Col. O'Neill, taking charge. "Fever, huh?"

"Infection," Daniel admitted. "It's nasty, but I'm on top of it. Jack, go to sleep. I think Sam and Teal'c will find us in the morning. You know they won't give up for a second. They'll find us."

"Just like you and Teal'c didn't quit when Sam and I were at the other Gate in Antarctica," Jack remembered.

"Just like the rest of you didn't stop trying even when you thought I was dead the time Nem had me," Daniel countered. They were a team. They took care of each other, they cared what happened to each other. He tried to express what he was feeling.

Jack listened. His was weak and feverish but his mind was clear. "You've got it wrong," he said after a minute. "Yeah, we're a team--we're the best team at SGC--goes without saying. But we're a family, too. We look out for each other because that's what families do." A shadow passed over his eyes. Maybe he was remembering how he hadn't been able to look out for his own son. Daniel's heart twinged, and he tightened the hold into a hug before he relaxed his grip enough for them to lie there comfortably.

Jack's face warmed. He understood the gesture for what it meant, a confirmation of the family status of SG-1, a willingness to share the pain because both of them knew loss so well, a friendship that had become brotherhood.

"I think they'll be here at dawn," Daniel said, picking his way through his overloaded emotions with care because he didn't think Jack would want him to break down. But that was wrong, too, because Jack had been there when he'd lost it over the addiction to the sarcophagus and Jack had held him through the worst of it. Later, when he was starting to heal, he'd been there every step of the way, offering support--and the trust Daniel had feared he'd lost. "And we'll be ready for them," he added, strength filling his voice. "Both of us, Jack, and I mean it."

"Good for you, Daniel, you've got power over life and death." Jack grinned. "Listen up. I'm not gonna die of this. It hurts like hell, and I'll probably be a lot sicker before I feel good, but if I can't hang on for longer than this, then I deserve what I get." His arms tightened in turn. There wasn't as much strength in them as Daniel would have liked, but there was fierce determination. Jack was no quitter.

"You better be fine," Daniel replied, smiling. "But right now, go to sleep."

"You trust that guy?" Jack jerked his head at Galen, who sat cross-legged on the other side of the campfire, nocked bow resting at ready on his knees.

Daniel nodded. "Yes, I do. He'll wake us if there's trouble. Go to sleep."

It was a sign of how the infection had drained him that O'Neill closed his eyes obediently and let the darkness take him without one word of complaint. Lying there, limp and drained, he looked both younger than his years and a hundred years old. A huge lump grew in Daniel's throat at the sight of him. He swallowed hard.

Shutting his own eyes, he hugged his friend against him to protect him from the night and followed him gratefully into sleep.

*****

"Captain Carter. Captain Carter, wake up."

Sam groaned. Sleeping on the ground always left her feeling battered and sore, no matter how many times she did it. Training and motivation let her awaken alert, and she blinked up at Teal'c, shadowy in the darkness. "What's wrong?"

"Dawn comes soon," Teal' said. "We must be ready to move at first light. O'Neill and Daniel Jackson need us as soon as possible."

So he had felt it, too, the niggle of alarm that had prodded her all the evening. It had crept in while she and Harrison talked strategy, while Teal'c and the other members of SG-5 searched the perimeter of their camp and set up sensors to warn of movement in the night. She knew they couldn't hope to find Jack and Daniel in the darkness; they might pass within two feet of their teammates and fail to see them. But the feeling had grown stronger and stronger and, finally, Sam became convinced that they really were in trouble.

It worried her that the bird-machine had not come to investigate when the Gate opened for them. Could the first time have been a fluke? Maybe Jack had destroyed the device. Had the Goa'uld been waiting for her teammates at its destination? Were they approaching now? Why had the Gate been unguarded when they returned? All through the evening, she had experienced an uneasy tightening in her muscles, a prickle on the back of her neck. Now, and she and Teal'c stared at each other in the dying light of the campfire, she could see the same apprehension written in his dark eyes.

Wiggling out of the sleeping bag, she ran her fingers through her hair, noticing the others stirring to wakefulness. Ryder had put a pot of coffee on the fire and the familiar smell made her drift that way as soon as she'd cleaned up and rolled up her sleeping bag. The team ate a quick breakfast of field rations and washed it down with trail coffee. Ryder favored it strong enough to strip paint off walls, but Sam was glad of it, though she usually preferred her coffee a little tamer. It drop-kicked her awake. Curling her hands around the cup for warmth against the morning chill, she realized the sky was just beginning to lighten. The nearer trees gained definition as the sky paled, and the stars faded.

"Let's break camp," Deke urged. "I want us on the move in ten minutes."

Where are you? Sam thought to Daniel and Jack as she sipped her coffee. Hang in there. It won't be long now.

Her eyes met Teal'c's as he finished his own. The Jaffa drank coffee with them when it was offered, but he had never sought it out. She wondered if the caffeine would awaken him as thoroughly as it did her. Even from a few steps away, she could feel his impatience to be moving. He had given his loyalty to the team, and he was determined to rescue them. She had never once, in all the time she'd known him, seen Teal'c give up, or fail to support the people he respected. It was good to have him on the same side.

Gulping the last swallow of her coffee, she rinsed out the collapsible cup and stowed it away in her pack.

By the time supplies were stowed and the bikes readied, the eastern sky was ablaze with the dawn. Pearled light hung between the trees in little patches of fog, stabbed through by the first beams of sunlight as they lanced through the forest. Sam yawned, drew a deep, steadying breath, and mounted up.

In loose formation, the rescue team roared down the rugged trail on their way to bring back their own.

*****

Daniel yawned and stretched, wiggling out from under the covers, and suddenly wincing. Even the slightest twitch hurt. In the night, his muscles had locked up on him and just sitting up was agony. Biting back a cry of pain, he fumbled in his pocket for his glasses and settled them on his face, blinking at the clearing. Dim light made the mist between the trees look like hovering ghosts. It was nearly morning. Galen had let him sleep the night through.

The Greek was still awake, eyes heavy-lidded as he heated something over the fire. It smelled strong and pungent but not unpleasant, and it made Daniel's mouth water. "Is that breakfast, I hope?" he asked, testing his shoulders with a cautious motion.

"The morning drink," Galen explained. "I brought a supply in my pack. We make it from brownberries. It is different from your coffee, but it has the same properties, I think. It makes the blood stir and the sleep go away." He poured some into a shallow cup and passed it to Daniel, who hesitated only long enough to tuck the blankets around Jack before he took it.

The flavor was nutty and tangy at the same time, as if peanuts and orange juice could be mixed and still taste good. He swallowed carefully--it was still quite hot. Maybe it was mildly narcotic, because it really did make the blood surge in his veins. He'd have been more wary of it if he hadn't needed that rush so badly. Gulping the rest of it, he passed back the cup and stood up. Another exercise in masochism. He caught his bottom lip in his teeth, then made himself let it go. He'd bite right through it if he wasn't careful.

"I looked at his leg twice in the night," Galen offered, dishing up something brownish yellow onto their camp plates that might have been scrambled eggs. "You did not awaken, and he stirred once but called for someone named Sarah. The wound still drained so I cleaned it with the boiled water and used your medicine and my healing salve. He woke at that and growled at me like a bearbird but then he went back to sleep."

"What's a bearbird?" Daniel asked. He wasn't sure he liked the sound of such a creature. They had enough threats to face already without tossing a savage avian into the mix.

"A fuzzy bird. Many of the birds on Elysium have a kind of furry feathers. Bearbirds are brown and shaggy. They only fly short distances. But they lay very good eggs. I found a nest and I have more eggs for Jack." He gestured at three brown, speckled eggs about twice as big as hens' eggs. He handed Daniel the plate. "Eat, then check his wound. We must go soon. I smelled native smoke."

"You did? When?"

"Just as you awakened," admitted the Greek. "I think they have followed us. They are not far, too far for us to hear them, but I have a good sense of smell. They put herbs into their campfires to make the flames blue. It is said to be an omen they will have a good battle, if the flames burn blue. Just now I smelled them and was just ready to awaken you when you sat up. Eat quickly."

Daniel stared down at his plate, his nose wrinkling. "It's...brown."

"It is supposed to be. The taste is excellent."

Daniel took one cautious bite and discovered that the eggs weren't too different than the ones he ate at home and were, in fact, quite good. The taste made him realize how hungry he was. Quickly he polished off the breakfast, then hurried over to Jack.

The smell of cooking roused O'Neill, who blinked up dazedly at Daniel, squinting in the dim light. "Is it morning?"

"Nearly. It's dawn. Galen thinks the natives followed us and are camped a few miles from here. We have to move fast."

"You think you can outrun those guys and their spears while you're pulling me?" Jack grimaced. "Not a chance. I want you to hide me and go for help. Get yourself clear, Daniel, and that's an order."

"Then it's a good thing I'm not in the military," the scientist replied, a faint grin on his face to cover the sheer, stubborn determination he felt. "I'm not leaving you. I mean it, Jack. I'm just going to change the dressing and then we'll get going. If you can carry your gun, I'll let Galen use the other one. It'll make us safer than his bow and arrow would. They're scared of the guns. We can hold them off." I hope.

"Sometimes I wonder if anybody remembers I'm the Colonel," O'Neill lamented, but he let Daniel irrigate the injury. Galen had done something different with it, he realized, spreading a greenish paste over the surface. Native medicines? He'd said something like that but Daniel had been half awake and it hadn't registered until now. Alarm ran through him, then he took a second look, eyes narrowing. The wound didn't seem to be draining quite as much this morning. Daniel's first aid classes didn't tell him if that was a hopeful sign or a bad one. Had Galen's treatment helped? Made Jack worse? Daniel didn't know. All he knew was that Jack's muscles turned into corded steel when he cleaned the injury and applied the antiseptic cream. Feeling like a sadist, Daniel finished up as quickly as he could. There were a lot of times when O'Neill was 'the Colonel' to him, but not now, when he was lying there, his hair tangled, his face flushed. The fever hadn't broken. It wasn't 'the Colonel' lying there, his body poisoned from a native's stone knife. It was Daniel's best friend, and he suffered every twinge of the pain right along with him.

"What did you use, Galen?" he asked, when he had the dressing in place and the blankets spread over O'Neill again.

"You mean he put something on this?" Jack's eyebrows shot up. "Oh, goodie. I always kinda wanted to try herbal medicines--not! Whatever he's got didn't work on his own buddies, after all."

Galen flinched as if Jack had bludgeoned him. Even the Colonel realized his skepticism must have hurt the little man. His mouth twisted wryly.

"I think it might have helped, Jack," Daniel offered. "It's dried the wound out a little and it doesn't look quite so inflamed. Maybe what they have isn't enough for a total cure, but combined with the antiseptic, it might do some good. You do look a little better this morning." Was that wishful thinking? He couldn't be sure but there could be a slight improvement.

"He is still feverish," Galen put in doubtfully. "I would do no harm on purpose. I was for my people a healer and I know the plants that work best. We learned them from the natives over the centuries, and in the early days when our people and the tribes were not enemies, they taught us much of this world's healing herbs. But there were none strong enough to save Decco."

"Who's Decco?" Jack asked in a weary aside, shooting a questioning glance at Daniel.

"His brother," explained the anthropologist. "He was the last of them to die. Galen couldn't save him and he died holding him in his arms. That was three years ago, and he's been alone ever since."

Galen began to smother the fire, his face closing away. Jack bit the inside of his cheek, his face thoughtful. Maybe he was remembering Daniel holding onto him in the night, or maybe he was thinking of the way his son had died. Whatever the reason, he didn't look happy. "Galen?" the Colonel called.

The little man's head came up just as a first beam of morning sunlight filtered through the trees, spotlighting his unhappy face. Fatigue darkened the shadows under his eyes and carved lines into the pointy features that hadn't been present yesterday.

"Sorry, okay?" Jack held out a hand. "I know you were only trying to help."

Galen beamed. He clasped the hand and pumped it twice as if sealing a bargain. Then he tensed up, sniffing the wind. "They have put their fires out. Soon they will come. Quickly, quickly, we must go from here."

"That sounds like a plan," Jack agreed. "How about you, Daniel? Up to playing porter another day?"

"It's not like we have a choice here, is it? I'm getting you out of here, Jack, and that's final."

They threw their supplies together in record time, then Daniel wrapped his hands and stooped to pick up the handles of the travois. His muscles screamed in protest but he braced himself against the pain and turned to trudge back toward the path. His fingers twinged as he tightened his grip, but he ignored the rising blisters because he didn't have the luxury of pampering himself, not if they were to survive.

For a time, their side path paralleled the cliff. Up ahead, the sun turned a misty clearing into a blaze of silver. Out of it emerged figures with mud-daubed hair, their vividly-painted faces full of anger, spears in their hands.

"We're trapped," Daniel cried, looking around for shelter. Jack scooped up the HK MP5 and took aim at them, flinging aside the blankets. He didn't have much energy, but he got himself sitting up, disrupting Daniel's hold on the travois. He lowered it gently to the ground, trying not to spill Jack off in the process. "Can you move, Jack? If we can get behind those stones...."

O'Neill fired off a quick round at the natives, who shrieked and darted sideways, but didn't stop their advance. This time there were more of them than the last raid, more than a dozen, probably, and maybe more hidden in the depths of the low-lying fog. Daniel eased an arm around Jack's shoulders and helped him stagger into the shelter of a clump of boulders, some the size of armchairs, others as big as Volkswagen buses. The two of them and Galen lined up in a row behind one of the smaller boulders, giving themselves room to fire and duck back to safety. With a sigh, the little man passed Daniel the HK MP5 he'd been carrying and worked his arm free of his bow, drawing an arrow. He didn't have many left. The sling tucked in his belt would be even less useful than the arrows.

"Never quite wanted to act out Custer's last stand," Jack muttered, his breath hissing out in surprise and pain as his injured leg took his weight.

"Sam and Teal'c should be here soon." Daniel fired quickly and dodged back just as a spear bounced off the rock in front of them. The natives had their range. "I wish we didn't have to shoot them, Jack. It was their world first."

"Fine and I'll give it back to them in a second if they'll let me get to the Stargate." The battle had energized him, but he still didn't look good. His face was flushed and Daniel could tell he was going on adrenaline and stubbornness alone. The pain of his wound glistened in his eyes, and he was hanging on to conscious awareness with his fingertips. All this exertion had to be spreading the infection through his system. But they hadn't been offered a choice. It was either fight or die.

"They will not let us go," Galen offered, loosing another arrow that found its target in one of the onrushing tribesmen, who cried out and fell backwards, spear dropping from his nerveless hand. "I do not think they know of the Gate. I myself have only seen it in the picture screens." He ducked to avoid a flung spear that almost made a new part in his hair. "As children, we were told it came alive with a surface like water and to step through it was to go to another world. Look out!" he cried suddenly, pushing Daniel sideways. When the spear had crashed against the boulder behind them and bounced away to splash into the creek, he resumed his speech. "We talked about the world of home, where we came originally. But we did not know how to make it open for us. If we, who knew we had come here through it, did not know, they will not know. Daniel! Look out!"

Daniel ducked as the spear whizzed over his head to ricochet off a huge boulder behind him. Seeing it, Galen darted over and collected it, looking wistfully after the one that bobbed away down the stream. "We can use them in return," he exulted. In the heat of battle he had found himself unafraid, exalted by the danger, and the knowledge had energized him.

Jack was too quiet. He kept firing grimly, taking out the enemy with his usual skill, but his mouth was drawn tightly, and his eyes were glazed. He had nothing left in him to give; the infection had taken away his strength and left only his indomitable drive. Even a man like Jack O'Neill could not hold off unconsciousness much longer. Daniel ached to tell him to lie down and rest, but he couldn't do that. Jack deserved the right to go out as a military man, fighting for his survival. He couldn't even ask Jack how he felt or fuss over him now at this moment of crisis. Impossible and wrong to diminish him. Besides, Daniel had to keep fighting, too.

There were probably only twenty five or thirty of the natives but the mist made it hard to find the targets, and the spears that rained down on their position forced them to duck repeatedly. They may have taken down half the enemy, but they couldn't stop them all. Daniel watched them darting through the trees, ducking into shelter when he and Jack fired, then coming on again and he knew with sudden certainty that this was where they were going to die.

He edged closer to Jack and caught his eye.

Groggy as he was, O'Neill understood the gesture, and he groaned. "Oh, now, come on, Daniel, you're not giving up on me, are you?"

"Unless Sam and Teal'c show up any minute, they're going to overrun our position." He hated to say it. He was no more a quitter than Jack was or he'd have given up on the search for Sha're a long time ago. But there were just too many of them.

"Come on, buddy, we've got better weapons and we're in a good position here." Jack's eyes caught his, and Daniel could see the struggle he had just to focus. If Jack wasn't giving up, neither was he. Popping up for a second, he loosed a burst of fire at the nearest tribesmen. God, they were too close. There was no time, not nearly enough time.

Sliding down behind his rock, he again sought out Jack's eyes.

The Colonel met his gaze. "I'll cover for you. You and Galen take off that way." He gestured downstream with the HK MP5. "Find a place told hold out until Sam and Teal'c come."

"Well, that's a stupid plan, Jack. After dragging you across half this planet, I'm not about to take off and leave you here."

"And if I ordered you to go?"

"I'd have to refuse to obey it." Daniel stood his ground. "We stick together. That's what teams do. That's what families do. I'm not leaving you here, so forget it." He glared at O'Neill, not out of anger but out of fierce determination.

Galen yelled a warning. "Get down!"

The spear passed over Daniel's head with no more than an inch to spare just as Jack lost his battle with consciousness and slid down to the ground in front of him. For a second, Daniel had the absurd idea he'd been hit, though the spear had clearly missed.

"Jack!" he howled desperately.

Galen's inarticulate warning nearly drowned the clash of the spear against the huge boulder behind him. It bounced back wildly and crashed against the side of Daniel's head.

Stars exploded before his eyes and he felt his muscles let go of their strength and pitch him downward. A fierce buzzing, roaring sound filled his ears as he sagged down over Jack's unconscious body, struggling to shield him even as awareness trickled out of him and dumped him sprawled across his friend, arms outflung. Time had run out, and he had failed.

*****

The rescue team heard the sound of weapon fire long before they saw its source. Teal'c held up a hand. "Listen." His shout was so compelling everyone strained their ears.

Distant fire greeted them. "They're in trouble," Sam cried. "That doesn't sound like zat guns or staff weapons. It's ours. The Colonel and Daniel. Hurry."

Harrison must have sensed her urgency because he didn't point out they were already moving as fast as they could. The trail led toward the sound and if she could have consciously willed her bike to move faster, she would have. Keep firing, she told her missing teammates in an urgent reflection. As long as you're firing, I know you're still alive.

The sound of weapon fire broke off just as they breasted a rise and saw a collection of motley tribesmen, their faces painted in bright patterns, their hair sculpted with mud, diving through the fog, flinging spears at the targets. An anguished cry of, "Jack!" stabbed through the mist, and Sam felt her heart clench. That was Daniel, and he sounded desperate.

After the shout and a cry of warning, there was silence, filled by the triumphal cries of the tribesmen. The firing had stopped entirely.

They roared toward the attacking natives who slowed, then stopped, at the unfamiliar sound of the bikes' approach. Headlamps aglow, charging out of the mist like retribution, the bikes must have looked like the tribesmen's worst nightmares because they squawled in superstitious panic. Maybe they thought the rescue team was a Goa'uld party. A few spears sailed halfheartedly toward the bikers and fell short, but some of the natives dropped their weapons where they stood. Harrison and Ryder opened fire on them. For a second they hung unmoving, and two of them dropped, hit. Then, as a man, the rest of them turned and fled through the trees, screeching in blind panic.

Sam looked for her friends. Teal'c had not even halted at the sight of the native attack, and she guided her bike after him down the treacherous slope. The grassy field was wet with morning dew, littered with the bodies her friends had stopped, and slippery as an icefield. Teal'c stopped his bike impatiently and ran toward the boulder field where a little man in a dirty, pleated tunic popped up, waving his arms and yelling, "Hurry, hurry fast. They are hurt."

Teal'c vaulted the rock with an agility that would have gained him a perfect 10 at any Olympic competition. "O'Neill!" he cried. "Daniel Jackson." Sam abandoned her bike without a second's hesitation and ran madly after him, conscious of Harrison posting guards before he followed her.

"You are Teal'c," the little man said, setting aside a bow and arrow with relief. He looked past the anxious Jaffa and beamed. "And you are Sam. Daniel knew you would come. But...." His voice trailed off ruefully.

She peered over the stone. Col. O'Neill and Daniel lay sprawled in a heap, Daniel's arms spread protectively as if he meant to shield Jack with his own body. The sight of them lying there so still slammed pain into Sam's chest. Too late. They had come too late after all.

"They still live." Teal'c looked up at her for a moment's reassurance, although his expression was anything but comforted. "O'Neill is very hot, feverish. Daniel Jackson has been knocked unconscious, but he is breathing well."

"Jack fainted," the little man explained hastily. "His wound troubled him and he was not strong enough to fight, but he fought anyway. He is a very brave man."

"He is," Teal'c confirmed, gently moving Daniel to lay him flat beside the Colonel. For such a big, strong man, the Jaffa's touch was amazingly gentle.

The stranger spoke again. "Daniel dragged him here on the litter. He called it a travois. He never stopped trying to get Jack back to the Stargate. I watched them. Each would have died for the other. I am glad my people and your are kin." Sam's eyes stung at the words. She hoped they still wouldn't have to die.

Teal'c discovered the wound in Jack's leg and bent to examine the bandages. "This is infected. Dr. Frasier must treat immediately."

"Then we have to get back through the Stargate right away." Sam gazed down at her fallen friends in shock. She had never envisioned both of them hurt. "How do we handle this?"

Lt. Ryder rose to the occasion. "It's a good thing we brought the sidecar bikes. We'll put one in each. Then it's only thirty miles of familiar terrain back to the Stargate."

"He's right," agreed Deke Harrison. "Actually this was one of the contingencies we planned for. Teal'c, will you take Col. O'Neill up to the bikes? Jake, I want you to carry Dr. Jackson." Ryder wasn't as muscular as Teal'c but he was strong with good, solid muscles. He bent to lift the scientist with as little evidence of strain as Teal'c as he settled O'Neill into his arms for the trip up the slope.

The little man hesitated, hovering around trying to help. "Daniel said I could come with him through the Stargate," he volunteered, and Sam could see the fear on his face that, without Daniel to speak for him, he might be left behind. She thought he had the loneliest face she had ever seen.

Harrison looked doubtful, but Sam shook her head at the other Captain. "He was helping them, Deke. He knew my name and Teal'c's. We take him. If the Colonel and Daniel say he's wrong, we can return him here. But I'd hate to leave anyone to the mercies of those mud people."

"Thank you, Sam," the little guy said, a glowing smile illuminating the sad face. "It has been very lonely here."

"He's...the last of his people." Jack's voice was gravelly and tired, but his eyes had opened. "Bring him. He helped us." He lay propped in Teal'c's arms, blinking up at the rescuers. "Where's Daniel?" he demanded urgently, trying to look around.

"He took a blow to the head." Sam captured the Colonel's hand. "But we hope it's not serious."

Jack had spotted the unconscious man by then as Ryder eased him into the sidecar of the nearest bike. His eyes softened. "Then, let's get him back through the Gate, kiddies. I won't be sorry to leave this party."

*****

Thunder and lightning crashed and rumbled in his head, and Daniel didn't want to open his eyes because he knew it would only be worse if he did. The pain was everywhere but, as he lay dazedly trying to think, it gradually localized just over his left ear. Raising a cautious hand, he explored and discovered a swollen, sensitive place there that made him wince when he fingered it.

"Oh, no, you don't." A hand captured his questing fingers and tugged them gently away from the wound. He knew that voice--but it wasn't Jack's voice. Jack had...had passed out. His wound was too badly infected. Jack was.... He couldn't let himself finish the thought or it would hurt too much so he concentrated on the speaker. Female...but it wasn't Sam either.

"Sha're?" he ventured doubtfully, but even as he spoke he recognized the familiar tones of Dr. Frasier and his eyes popped open to find the base doctor bending over him. He was home!

She must have seen the realization in his eyes because she didn't correct him. "Don't try to sit up just yet."

That wasn't the answer he wanted. "Jack!" Raising his voice he screamed the name, pushing at Dr. Frasier's restraining hands as he tried to sit up. The whole room swayed around him for a dizzying instant and Frasier caught him by the shoulders when he would save sagged. "Jack!"

"Don't yell," ordered a familiar and grumpy voice from the next bed.

Relief pulsed through Daniel so strong it nearly flattened him. Leaning into the support of Dr. Frasier's hands, he turned his head and saw a slightly blurry O'Neill lying there, an IV dripping medicine--antibiotics?--into the back of Jack's hand. He still didn't look great--the glassy look hadn't entirely disappeared from his eyes--but he was here, he was receiving the treatment Daniel had meant him to get, and he was alive. Daniel closed his eyes to squeeze back the moisture that filled them at the sight.

"Daniel?" Jack's voice held alarm. "You're not passing out on me again, are you?"

He straightened up and opened his eyes again. Dr. Frasier passed him his glasses and he rubbed a hand across his eyes before he slid them on. "I'm okay, just a knock on the head. You were the one who scared us."

Frasier propped pillows behind Daniel, who ignored them and stood up, holding onto the edge of the bed for balance until he was steady on his feet. He took a couple of steps that brought him up against the side of Jack's bed. "How are you, Jack?"

"He's recovering," Frasier said. "I'm giving him a massive intravenous treatment of antibiotics that should kick the infection back. But he'll have to stay off that leg until I say otherwise. And I mean it, Colonel," she added pointedly.

"Heck of a bedside manner, Doc."

She made a face at him and drifted away. "Call me if Daniel decides to fall down or anything," she instructed over her shoulder. Daniel realized from the tone of her words that he wasn't much hurt and probably didn't even have a concussion. Yes, his head ached and he'd kill for some aspirin, but it was nothing he couldn't endure, not when they were home, not when Jack was going to live.

"How long has it been?" he asked, discovering his hands were bandaged. His palms were sore, but not painful enough to have registered when he first woke up. The blisters from hauling the travois....

"Since we got back? Evidently you got bopped on the head with a ricocheting spear, and the tribes were about to turn us into hash when Teal'c, Sam, and SG-5 showed up on dirt bikes."

"Wow, I bet the natives thought they were Goa'uld, the way they must have looked and sounded, coming out of that fog." Daniel was fascinated. He wished he'd seen it. "It must have been great."

"I missed that part myself, but I was awake for the ride home."

"And you're really going to be okay?"

The Colonel must have sensed his need for reassurance because he shot out the hand without the IV and encircled Daniel's wrist. "Yes, I'm gonna be okay. Sooner than the doc thinks I am, too." He grinned. "I wouldn't dare not be, after all your hard work."

"It wasn't hard work," Daniel insisted. Never mind his muscles still throbbed from the effort and his hands were torn up. It was simply what he'd had to do. When the need was so great, you just did what was necessary, and the strength to do it was just there. "I had to, Jack. I didn't know they'd come on the bikes. They might have met the natives before they found us if we'd stayed at the pyramid. I couldn't just wait--and neither could you." Their eyes met.

O'Neil smiled at him, and in the smile was gratitude for Daniel's hard work, approval of his fortitude and determination, and the light of friendship. It made the pounding of his head and the sting in his hands completely unimportant. "Thanks, Daniel."

Relief weakened Daniel's knees and he backed up just far enough to sit down on his own bed, unable to hold back the blazing smile that spread across his face. They'd made it, against all odds, they'd made it. Then a thought struck him. "Galen! If both of us were out of it, they wouldn't realize he was helping us. They didn't leave him there?"

"I knew you'd have ten fits if we did," Jack replied, stretching comfortably and wincing as the movement pulled at the muscles of his leg. "That hurts," he muttered in mild annoyance. "I woke up after the rescue team arrived." Amusement sparkled in his eyes. "You should have seen him. Sam took him behind her on her bike, and he was thrilled, just like you get when you find some weird alien hieroglyphics, or like a kid with a new train set. Didn't faze him for a second."

It wouldn't. Daniel had to smile at the image. He hadn't known what to expect of Galen at first, but the man had all the courage he'd ever need to start his new life. "Is he still here? They haven't sent him off through the Gate already?"

"Daniel, we've been here maybe two hours," Jack explained with mock impatience. "Dr. Frasier said you didn't take too hard a knock on that thick skull of yours, and that you were mostly just asleep. She heard about you pulling me over half the planet and said you were so tired your body just shut down for a little while. It wasn't that lump on your noggin that was keeping you out. You were sawing logs with the best of 'em. Made so much noise I didn't have a chance to sleep."

"And he wouldn't have anyway." Sam appeared in the doorway, with Teal'c right behind her. "He insisted on watching over you until you woke up. Dr. Frasier said we could have five minutes and then she wants both of you to sleep."

"It is good to see you awake, Daniel Jackson," Teal'c announced as the two of them approached the beds.

"It's good to be awake. I knew you two would come for us," he added around a cavernous yawn. "Thanks."

"I don't think the Doc will have to order him to sleep," Jack muttered. "He'll do it without a single order. And if it comes to taking orders, I've got a bone to pick with you when you're better, Daniel." The warmth in his eyes removed all threat from his words. "Hi, people. Where's that little guy?"

"He's talking to Dr. Cleaver from SG-8," Sam explained. Daniel nodded. His fellow anthropologist would be the best person to understand Galen's unique situation. "They're talking over a huge meal. Then Dr. Frasier's going to run some tests on him. He explained that his race gradually died out, and Janet thinks they can find out why with a few tests to see what's lacking or diminished in his system. It shouldn't be a problem for Galen himself, though, now that he's away from Elysium."

Daniel tried to swallow a second gaping yawn and failed miserably. Exhaustion, the stresses and strains of the past twenty four hours, and his relief at being home and safe with Jack alive and recovering combined to nearly suffocate him with exhaustion. "Good to see you, Sam and Teal'c," he muttered sleepily. "But I think I'm gonna take a nap now."

Teal'c and Sam helped ease him down on the bed again, and the last thing he saw before he sank down into the sheer delight of sleep was Jack's reassuring grin.

*****

"Wish I was coming with you," O'Neil said three days later. Leaning on the cane Dr. Frasier insisted he use for a few more days, he balanced himself in the embarkation room with Sam hovering at his side. His balance wasn't as steady as he would have liked and Frasier still frowned on him spending too much time on his feet, in spite of the fact that the infection had really kicked back and his fever was gone. The Colonel was still on oral medication but in spite of the cane, his casual fatigues, and the lines of pain that occasionally tightened his mouth, he was recovering even ahead of the doctor's schedule. He wished Daniel was willing to wait a few days to take their little buddy to his new home. But maybe his going now was for the best. The sooner he got there, the sooner he could start making a life for himself, finding friends.

"I'm only going over to take Galen to his new home, Jack," Daniel reminded him. Kitted up for a journey through the Stargate, the little Greek stood at his side, wearing clothes the base personnel had found for him. He was excited, a little wistful, a little apprehensive. Daniel grinned at him then turned back to Jack. "You know it's safe enough. Sam and Teal'c went yesterday to clear it, and Teal'c's still there visiting Drey'Auc and Rya'c. He'll come back with us. I can't possibly get into any trouble over there."

"Ya think?" Jack favored him with a wry and lazy grin. "I know you, Daniel. You can get into trouble making your bed, let alone wandering around an alien planet, even a friendly one." Jack could never tell what weird alien device or native custom would set the scientist off. Letting him head for a planet, even a ally planet, on his own, or only with Carter, was the kind of thing that would give Jack ulcers if he let himself think about it too much.

On the other hand, it was Daniel who had taken charge on Elysium, who had dreamed up the idea of the travois, who had pulled it for hours, who had fussed over him and treated his basically pretty nasty and ugly wound, who had kept him warm, worked with Galen to learn what he could, and fought off the natives as long as possible--not to mention a certain insane berserker run that Galen had described to Jack with a wealth of detail when Daniel was still sleeping on the first afternoon home. No, Daniel wasn't safe without a keeper--but Jack was glad of him. He clapped the anthropologist on the shoulder. "Be careful over there. No chasing armed tribesmen all by yourself. Talk about a crazy thing to do...."

"Well, it kept them away for awhile," Daniel defended himself uncomfortably. He gave his glasses a little shove with his forefinger to settle them into place. "Galen said they thought I was a Goa'uld--or a demon."

"An idiot who needs a keeper." But Jack said it warmly. He knew he owed Daniel his life.

"Don't worry, Colonel, I'll keep my eye on him," Sam volunteered, joining them. "It's peaceful over there now that we don't have to face the Touched any more. High Counselor Tuplo will meet us at the Stargate and Teal'c will be there, too."

General Hammond, in the command room overhead, spoke over the P.A. "Activating gate." The system began to power up.

Galen looked around the room, his eyes still full of wonder. Intelligent though he was, he found the technology of Earth intimidating; it was written in his eyes. He'd be a lot happier on a simpler world, one that was proving good at taking in SGC's strays. "I go to a new home," he said excitedly, bouncing on his toes. Waving up at Hammond, who watched from above, he called, "Thank you, General."

"Glad we could help," Hammond replied.

Galen turned to O'Neill next. "Goodbye, Jack." He wrapped his arms around the Colonel's waist and hugged him hard. "I am glad you were spared Decco's fate."

Uncomfortable, O'Neill patted him on the shoulder, and he let go.

"Chevron seven locked."

They turned as one to watch the gate swoosh open. "I like that," Galen said. "It's beautiful. I had never thought to go through the Stargate and now I go a second time."

"I'll take him through, Jack," Daniel said, and fell into step with Galen, who turned and hugged him, too, with even greater enthusiasm. Those two had held watch together through a long night. Daniel would miss Galen, perhaps even something like the way Jack had missed Skaara after his first return from Abydos. Daniel returned the hug and let him go, a little smile touching his lips. At once Galen picked up the backpack he'd acquired during his stay, and a stack of scrolls he had brought from home, along with a few books written in Greek that Daniel had found for him. He could read the language, although not easily; there had been changes in his people's writing. But he wanted to learn.

"And I'll bring Daniel back," Carter promised.

Jack leaned on his cane as they went up the ramp to the Stargate, Daniel and the little man side by side and Carter a step behind them. One, two, three, they passed through the event horizon and vanished from sight, taking Galen to his new home.

With a grimace, Jack dragged up a chair and plopped down in it, stretching his leg out before him and rubbing it absently. He meant to wait here no matter what anybody said, until his team came home.

© June 6, 2001 The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.