The Hidden One
by Gracie - paintbyletters@hotmail.com


RATING: Mature - mild language, disturbing scenes. 

CATEGORY: Science fiction, Action/Adventure, Angst.

PAIRINGS: No. Teensy bit of S/J in a couple of scenes, but this is not 
an S/J fic.

SPOILERS: References from seasons one through four up to D&C, big ones 
for 1969, Legacy, and, in the Epilogue, for Pretense and Serpent's 
Venom.

SUMMARY: SG-1 has found God - and everybody wants a piece of him.

DISCLAIMER. Stargate SG-1 et al is not mine. I only pretend to own it. 
And I only pretend to have scads of money that I pretend to make off of 
pretending to own it. "/

In other words:

DISCLAIMER: Stargate SG-1 and its characters are the property of 
Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret 
Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment 
purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is 
intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the 
property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without 
the consent of the author.

AUTHOR'S NOTES: *important.* All the Earth-based equipment mentioned in 
this fic really does exist and works pretty much the way I've described 
them. (At least I hope they do.)  I have taken some liberties with their 
capabilities - especially the infrared scanner whose performance I've 
really beefed-up. (This is science fiction, after all. ") I therefore 
ask you to suspend belief for the sake of the story, just like you do 
with the whole concept of wormhole travel.  

The Heliopolis mentioned in this fic is *not the one that Earnest 
arbitrarily named* in Torment of Tantalus, but the historical one where 
the gods of Egypt held council. 

This fic goes into quite a bit of Goa'uld history, biology and ship 
spec. All this is the product of my imagination rather than canon, so, 
depending on how seasons five, six and any subsequent movies turn out, 
this might have to become classed as an AU fic. - I'm just covering all 
the bases, here. ")

Acknowledgements, along with the usual plea for feedback will follow at 
the end of the story.


                         *******************

Prologue

God was lonely.

He slouched against his gilded throne and contemplated the unchanging 
scenes painted on the walls before him: Heru'Ur, Nirrti, Apophis, 
Cronus, Seth, even Ra himself, paying homage to the Great Maker. Let the 
others fight endlessly amongst themselves over territory; it was of no 
consequence to him. No matter who claimed title to worlds and peoples, 
was not all of it in reality, his? Did he not come and go as he pleased, 
always and everywhere being well received, yes, even adulated by his 
peers? He had no enemies - who would dare be anything but a friend to 
the Creator of the gods? And power: more even than Ra himself. Had the 
counsel of the gods at Heliopolis not acquiesced to his demand and 
bestowed upon him the title of "Amon," King of the gods? 

' "Thus it is said of Ptah, and recognized and understood; that he is 
the mightiest of all the gods." ' 

So it had been decreed. 

The other System Lords gained power and influence through brutal 
conquest. Amon-Ptah's power was the result of his benevolence, from 
generously giving his brothers what they thought they wanted, whenever 
he decided that they wanted it. They depended upon Amon-Ptah to furnish 
them with the means to continue their power-struggles. It made him the 
most sought-after, the most needed, the most powerful of them all. What 
more could a god want?

A shovel would be nice. Or, rather, a thousand shovels. 

A thousand slaves with a thousand shovels digging for a thousand days. 
This was the scenario he envisioned as he regarded the beautiful fresco 
on the wall: all the gods who would gladly kill each other for the 
prestige of finding the Hidden One.

He had long ago invented a cover story explaining his absence; this was 
nothing less than a test by the Great Maker, Amon-Ptah, who had given 
much to his children. Now, how would they use these gifts? The god that 
managed to find where Amon-Ptah had concealed himself would be richly 
rewarded. Yes, that would work. 

And, it was not so very far from the truth. He really had hidden 
himself, and it really would be a test of skill and intelligence for the 
one finding him, to extract Amon-Ptah from this place. That Goa'uld 
really would be rewarded, with technology that far surpassed anything 
the Great Maker had shared with them thus far.

He frowned when his gaze fell on Sokar's image. Well, perhaps it would 
not work with all of them. That Devil-god had fallen out of his favor, 
claiming that he should share the title of Amon equally with Ptah. 

True, Sokar produced ingenious tools forged in the fire, but the process 
was excessively cruel and a waste of perfectly good minds. His creations 
came about at such high cost in skilled Goa'uld and slaves that finally 
the artists and crafts gods had called out to the council for justice: 
to Thoth, the Great Judge, to Osiris and to Isis, King and Queen of the 
jurisdictional districts of the Goa'uld, and to Ptah, the Amon, and 
Creator of the gods. And so, by decree of the council, Sokar had been 
banished to the far western quadrant of the Goa'uld's realm, and Amon-
Ptah's title remained his alone. 

Amon-Ptah sighed. The King of the Underworld would love to see him in 
this place. Sokar would most certainly leave him here for eternity and 
take the title and power of Amon in his absence, if he hadn't already 
done so.

Never a great fan of irony, Amon-Ptah found that there was little else 
to contemplate these days. He had plenty of time to appreciate all its 
subtleties. Originally, he had brought his people to this place in order 
to build a ship - one superlative to any that the other gods would ever 
possess. The politics of his brothers were becoming more complicated, 
more dangerous. His experience with Sokar had shown him the wisdom of a 
backup plan, in anticipation of the day when other System Lords would 
try to usurp him. Now, not only were he and Sokar on philosophically 
opposing sides, but they were physically separated on opposite sides of 
the galaxy as well; Sokar, banished to the west by the judgment of 
Heliopolis, Amon-Ptah, banished to the east, by his own misjudgment. 

He had thought himself to be so cunning, but ultimately, the planet on 
which he'd hidden proved ill chosen. It was well outside Goa'uld 
territory, and abandoned by the mighty alliance of the Asgard, the 
Furling and the Nox. A thin layer of charged particles in the planet's 
troposphere interfered with communications outside its atmosphere, 
further assuring secrecy in case some devious System Lord had planted a 
spy in Amon-Ptah's ranks. It also made a call for help impossible.

What was more, the planet itself exerted a negative influence on his 
naquadah-based technology. Had not Sokar warned him that he put entirely 
too much trust in that mineral? It irked him no end that his old enemy 
had been right. 

He snorted derisively at his self-inflicted dilemma: The very same stone 
that had let him rise to power now rendered him impotent. The Great and 
Powerful Amon-Ptah, Sculptor of the gods and of all their toys, and with 
him three thousand of the finest minds in the galaxy. Yet he was unable 
to dig himself out of a mere hole in the ground.

The slaves, succumbing to starvation when supplies had run short, had 
died first. Then the Jaffa. Finally, the Goa'uld underlings that refused 
to give up their lives for their master had been systematically 
executed, most in blood contests among themselves, the rest by Amon-
Ptah's own hand. There was only one sarcophagus and he intended to be 
its sole beneficiary. 

Nevertheless, the loneliness aggrieved him, more even than the crushing 
weight of the planet. How he missed walking among his children, teaching 
them, watching them flourish under his direction. Now, he was a creator 
bereft of creatures, a god unblessed by worshipers. Today, there was but 
one left standing to worship him. After this day, there would be no one. 

Amon-Ptah considered the creature standing before him. His First Prime, 
ever by his side, had somehow managed to survive the harrowing period of 
famine and conflict, to emerge, as always, untouched and disposed to 
serve. He stood at attention, guarding access to his master as though 
some threat might still exist from which to keep him. Solitude and 
emptiness were the Goa'uld's only enemies now and from such things there 
was no protection. 

There was nothing left to eat, for either of them. Now, even the 
presence of his most trusted slave caused the Goa'uld unease. It was 
time to end it for this one as well.

"Sen'k," he spoke in the tone he used to bestow a blessing. "You have 
served with valor and faithfulness. It is time for you to receive your 
just reward. Look into the eyes of your god."

The imposing metal osprey beside Amon-Ptah stood as still as its 
matching stone statue. Presently, the head of the great raptor folded in 
upon itself to reveal the gaunt features of the Jaffa within. Eyes 
front, he continued to stare dully through dry, sunken sockets, 
apparently disregarding his Lord's command. The Goa'uld stiffened. Now 
that it had come down to just the two of them, would the Jaffa put his 
own survival above his god's? His left hand clenched around the ribbon 
device he wore. 

"What would you have me see, my lord?" the Jaffa spoke quietly, his 
voice steady despite his weakened physical state. "What would I see that 
has not been evident for a great many days now? That the creator is 
fading away as surely as the creature? My lord is less and less a man 
with each passing hour.

Amon-Ptah's hands gripped the armrests of his throne and he tried to 
rise. "I am no mere man! I am your god!" he asserted with a roar. The 
emotional and physical exertions winded him, belying his words, and he 
sank back down into the seat. The Jaffa's one raised eyebrow betrayed 
his opinion.

"The Goa'uld are not gods."

Amon-Ptah's eyes flared. "What is this blasphemy?" he growled.

The Jaffa was unfazed by the display. He finally turned his head and 
looked directly at his master. "Oh, Great and Powerful Amon-Ptah," he 
intoned, reciting a prayer that had gone up from three thousand lips day 
after day, since their entombment, until finally there was no one left 
to utter it. "You who brings all things into being with a thought and 
makes them live by the word from your tongue. You who, alone, possess 
the ear which hears. Hear now my petition and deliver me from the 
underworld for the sake of your glory." 

Those accursed words. The fire died in Amon-Ptah's eyes. It had been 
some time since he'd last heard them. Thoth, the god of wisdom and 
justice, had formed that prayer in honor of Amon-Ptah, and it had 
pleased the Great Maker greatly to hear its melodious intonation on the 
lips of slaves and gods alike. He had even come to believe the words 
himself. But that was before he his imprisonment in this place. Sen'k 
was right, a true god would have liberated his people long ago. He eyed 
his Jaffa. Apparently, he had not been the only one to draw this 
conclusion. He sat back and smiled ruefully.

"Ah, Sen'k, you always were a smart one. Smart enough to see through our 
ruse."

"You were never one to suffer a dull wit in your presence, Lord," the 
Jaffa responded, unmoved by the compliment. "All of your slaves knew 
what you are, though we never dared speak of it."

"Until now."

Sen'k raised, then lowered both eyebrows, the equivalent of a Jaffa 
shrug. "You have always valued truth, my Lord. Would you have me lie to 
you with my last breath?"

The Goa'uld sighed and nodded in approval. "So tell me, Sen'k, if you 
had always known, why did the slaves not rise up against their Lord from 
the start?"

"Your own words provide the answer. The Jaffa are a slave race. The fear 
of the gods has been ingrained in us since birth. You gathered the best 
and brightest minds about you, and even we, with all our knowledge and 
insight, found it unthinkable to raise a hand against you. We need you 
just as surely as you need us." There was no anger in his gaze, no 
bitterness in his words, just the resigned acceptance of a slave's 
position in a society of gods.

The two regarded each other candidly for some time. Sen'k had seen 
through a ruse so long perpetuated that even many Goa'uld believed it. 
Amon-Ptah found his First Prime's honesty to be liberating. He felt a 
twinge of regret at what he was about to do. Pity they hadn't had this 
conversation sooner. Perhaps then he would not have felt so alone. 

"I grow weary of this existence." 

"It is time for you to return to the sarcophagus, my Lord. This time you 
must not re-awaken until rescue comes from one of your brothers."

"You have more confidence in my brothers than I, Sen'k," the Goa'uld 
said dryly. "They are fools. You were right. I gathered the best and 
brightest around me. I fear there is no one left intelligent enough to 
find this accursed place, let alone rescue me from it."

"Ra will not rest until he has found you."

Amon-Ptah shook his head. "Ra is the greatest fool of them all. He has 
become vainglorious in the extreme. It has dulled his wit. He will die 
at the hand of slaves."

Sen'k allowed his schooled features a small smile. "A bold prophesy, 
even for my master. Is my Lord perhaps a god after all?"

"One does not have to be a god to see that a fool will be destroyed by 
his own stupidity," he answered. "Consider the lowly hah'cha worm. Does 
it not serve the mighty cedars of Avon-Re, aerating the soil and fixing 
nutrients beneath their roots so that they grow to magnificent heights? 
But when the tree grows too mighty, does not that same worm then consume 
it? Would it not be a fitting end for the haughty Ra?"

Sen'k's features reformed to their normal stoic look. "Whether or not he 
meets such an end, I will not live to see it, but you must sleep now. 
Deliverance will come sooner for you than for slaves."

Again, the fingers of Amon-Ptah's gloved hand lightly caressed the 
armrest of his throne. "And you, Sen'k? You who know me for what I am, 
who managed to survive when all the others failed. What do you plan on 
doing while I sleep?"

"If I wanted you dead, you would be dead," the Jaffa assured him simply. 
"I live to serve, and I will die in your service." 

Amon-Ptah's eyes glowed with a fire that spoke to the Goa'uld's surprise 
and respect. "So be it, Sen'k," he said softly. "You who have out-witted 
Goa'uld and man alike. Perhaps you will live to see rescue. If it is to 
be so, then I will grant you the desires of your heart. Live, and serve 
me until the end of your days."  


The creature that would be god rose stiffly from his throne, and slowly, 
the frail couple made their way to the sarcophagus. Amon-Ptah set the 
bed of miracles to stasis mode and Sen'k helped him climb into it. As 
the lid of the stasis chamber closed over him, they gazed upon each 
other for the last time. Amon-Ptah's eyes filled with regret for his own 
impotence. He had no illusions that his First Prime would survive the 
long night until rescue arrived. Then, soft light from the sarcophagus 
swaddled his failing body, and lulled him to sleep - a sleep destined to 
last ten thousand years. 

                         *******************

The Hidden One

Scientists!

SG-1 sat in the briefing room with General Hammond, watching an aerial 
view of the terrain on P4N-285. The world looked uninhabited around the 
Gate. Flat, treeless savanna stretched out over the horizon and beyond 
the range of the UAV's camera. The only things breaking the monotony 
were the nearly perfect circles that dotted the landscape. No vegetation 
lived within them. Filled with what looked like gravel, some were 
smaller than a manhole, whereas others measured several kilometers in 
diameter. Carter was droning on...and on, theorizing about the circles, 
saying how there was nothing of value to Earth that she could detect, no 
heat signatures or signs of life other than the vegetation.

"So. Either you've found the home world of the infamous crop-circle 
aliens, or you're briefing us about a place that we have absolutely no 
interest in going to," Jack interrupted her. He grimaced in annoyance. 
Why did scientists do that anyway? Why did they feel the need to share 
every little new thing they discovered, no matter how boring? Not for 
the first time, he found himself gazing with longing at the remote 
control in her hand, wishing that scientist's brains were wired with 
some kind of neural remote of their own so that he could just fast 
forward to the good parts. He pursed his lips and gazed at her impishly 
as he tried to put down the mental image of the verbose Major's mouth in 
fast forward.

Carter failed to suppress a grin. "Aha! I thought the same thing...about 
it having nothing of interest to us, that is. As a matter of fact, I was 
bringing the UAV home when it caught something on its return arc. I 
think you're going to like this, Sirs."  

Carter's smug tone made Jack sit up a little straighter. He *knew* it, 
she was doing it on purpose, just to bug him. 

"We were doing a high-altitude sweep of the area using the new, ground-
penetrating infrared scanner technology we developed with the help of 
the Orbans. As you know, we had the UAV fitted with this new technology 
in the hopes that . . . ."

Carter droned on some more, about heat signatures, subterranean 
disturbances and EM pulses. Beside him, General Hammond sighed quietly. 
Jack studied his second in command through narrowed eyes. She was 
pushing the limits today. What the hell had she found to make her this 
cocky? "Now, here's the good part," she said. 

It had better be, Jack thought dryly.

She pointed her mouse at the monitor. The image froze on flat, non 
descript grassland. With another click of the mouse, the image changed. 
A mass of colors on the infrared scale from yellows to red melded 
together to form a familiar shape, its warm colors making it stand out 
from the green to black tones of its colder surroundings. 

Jack stared, open mouthed, along with the others, completely oblivious 
to Carter's mischievous grin. She loved doing that to him. 

"Wh.. hoa!" Jack managed to say.

"That's a...." Daniel gulped in surprise.

"A Goa'uld warship," Teal'c finished for his teammate. 

"It's so...."

"....Big," Jack finished for Daniel.

"It is indeed unusually large," Teal'c agreed, awestruck.

Carter clicked the mouse again and a cube shaped grid overlaid the image 
of the buried ship. "Its area measures six hundred meters from base to 
pinnacle, and a kilometer on the side. Its peak is about seventy meters 
below the surface."

"How did it get there?" General Hammond asked. "Underground like that?"

"Its angle is steep," Teal'c said as he studied the garish colors 
splashed over the awkwardly canted ship. "It appears to have crashed 
into the soft terrain."

Carter dismissed the idea with a shake of her head. "I don't think it 
crashed, Teal'c."  

"Then how did it get there?" the General repeated his question.

"It sank, Sir."

Jack blinked in surprise. "The spaceship...sank?"

"Yes, Sir." She advanced the slides until she found the one she wanted. 
"Teal'c is right, the terrain is soft. There's no bedrock in this area, 
and as you can see from this image, the ship is partially submerged in 
an underground river. I'm guessing there weren't any geological surveys 
done before they set down. The ground's under structure must have been 
significantly eroded and the ship just sank under its own weight."

"Well, why didn't they just take off again?" Daniel asked.

"Good question," Jack agreed, turning to look at Teal'c for the answer. 

"I have no explanation," Teal'c said, looking, in turn, at Carter, who 
simply shrugged and shook her head.  

"Maybe they buried the ship themselves," Jack mused. "You know, to hide 
it from their enemies, as it were, 'til they could bring back a 
tow...ship."

Carter cocked her head and nodded. "Yeah, I suppose that's a 
possibility, Sir, but there's something else." 

The view on the monitor changed to reveal the ghostly outlines of the 
ship's interior structures. A tight column of fire-red grew out of the 
base and up the center of the pyramid ship, almost to its apex - the 
reactor core. Points of red and orange burned in each image as Carter 
cycled through the images. Jack gave a low whistle of appreciation. 
These images were downright pristine compared to the impossibly scant 
image quality of IRT he had had to work with in his black ops days. Even 
Jack knew that Earth didn't have any kind of infrared radar technology 
like this. Orban was turning into one of the best allies they had found 
to date. Jack smiled inwardly. And all because he had taught a little 
girl how to have fun.

"The scans don't reveal any apparent life signs. As you can see by the 
abundance of red and yellow, there's heat radiation coming from within 
the ship, indicating that it's still in some kind of working order, but 
there's no movement anywhere on board, which suggests --"

"That the crew either died or abandoned ship," Daniel finished. "I'd say 
it's been there for quite awhile," he went on. "The surface looks 
virtually undisturbed, and with the hole a ship that size made, it would 
have taken a long time - at least several centuries to refill it by 
natural means, possibly even longer."

Carter found the image she sought. The monitor showed a large room 
housing a long rectangular object. The object emitted a faint regular 
pulse that radiated the barest amount of heat. "Teal'c, is this what I 
think it is?"

"D'oh!" Jack exclaimed in disgust. "Teal'c, *please* say that's not what 
she thinks it is." 

"It is a sarcophagus, O'Neill," Teal'c answered gravely. "What is more, 
it appears to be in operation."

Sam's eyes never left the monitor. "The good news is, this is the only 
sign of life we've been able to detect. My guess is that whoever's in 
there is probably in stasis, awaiting rescue."

"So...you suggesting a little "rescue mission" of our own, Major?" 

Sam smiled at the Colonel triumphantly. "Actually, Sir, I was thinking 
of a little salvage operation. Imagine! A fully equipped Goa'uld 
warship."

                         *******************

General Hammond was fairly beaming. He had grasped the implications 
immediately. 

"This is exactly the kind of thing we've been looking for. SG-1, you can 
have whoever and whatever you need to get this job done. We'll reconvene 
here tomorrow morning at oh-eight-hundred hours for a second debrief." 
The General stood, allowing the others to do the same. "Good work, 
Major!" he complimented the young officer warmly.  "Dismissed."

The General left the room for his office to apprise the President of the 
good news - something  his Commander in Chief didn't often get from 
Cheyenne Mountain. Stargate Command was more often than not the source 
of bad news for the President, and not a few Senators were growing 
impatient with the increased budget demands of this one program. 

Opinions in Washington were divided among those whose heads were in the 
clouds and wanted the Stargate to become public knowledge, and those 
with their heads in the sand who wanted nothing more than to bury the 
Gate again. At least now they were convinced that the threat was real. 
Apophis' attack from space and SG-1's unauthorized eleventh hour rescue 
had put the fear into even its sternest opponents.

Fortunately, cooler heads held sway at the moment. The President and the 
Joint Chiefs felt as George did. But the dissidents in Washington were 
getting increasingly difficult to manage. What the SGC needed was an 
advantage: something Kinsey and his kind would not want to share with an 
uninformed world, something that would keep the United States of America 
on top. A fully equipped and functional Goa'uld warship should fit the 
bill. If they could pull this one off ...well ...George couldn't repress 
his grin as he picked up the phone. 

"Mr. President, General George Hammond here. Sir, I have some good news 
for you." His smile widened. "Yes, Sir, I did say good news."

                         *******************

"What do you mean, 'no?'" 

SG-1 stood around the organized chaos that hid the long table in Sam's 
lab. It was covered in components she would need to outfit the balloon 
that would serve as an information and communications relay between the 
Gate and the ship. 

"I mean, 'no,' Daniel, as in 'uh-uh,' 'no way,' or maybe you'd prefer to 
hear it in another language. How about," Jack put his mouth over the 
nozzle of a helium tank. "'Nyet!'" The Russian word came out in a high 
squeak as Jack exhaled. Sam giggled and held her hand out to the Colonel 
for the tank, trying to look stern. The two officers exchanged playful 
glances before Jack relinquished his toy to her, moving on to handle the 
next interesting gadget to catch his eye.

"C'mon, Daniel, stop ruining it for the rest of us," Jack chided. 
"Anyway, this should be right up your alley." He picked up a small wind 
vane and blew into one of the cups, watching it spin in his hands.

Daniel closed his eyes and shook his head. "Spaceships are not up my 
alley," he muttered. "I don't even like spaceships."

"Hey, there's nobody home but a sleeping god wannabe," Jack said. "Just 
think of it as, you know... a giant, sunken, temple or something."

Daniel sighed. There was no use trying to talk to Jack about this now. 
Not with him in such high spirits, but he had the feeling that everyone 
around him had thrown caution to the wind. "Guys, this is serious." He 
turned to Sam for support. "Sam! You don't think we should leave them 
out of this, do you? Don't you think we're getting in way over our heads 
here?"

"Yes to both questions, Daniel," she answered almost casually, turning 
back to her work. "Yes, I think we should leave the Tok'Ra out of this 
and," she shrugged. "Yes, I think we're getting in a little over our 
heads, but..."

"Way," Daniel corrected her. "Way. Over. Our heads."

"Think, Daniel," Jack said impatiently. "If we tell the Tok'Ra, then 
they'll want to take over the whole operation and we'll be left high and 
dry. Don't you remember what happened with Hathor's stuff?"

Daniel winced. "It seemed like a good idea at the time," he answered 
lamely.

The Tok'Ra were running low on new technology. Hathor had plenty of 
that, including the ability to phase shift. And her base was a secret to 
the other System Lords, thus, a good hiding place for the resistance. 
And, technically, the Tok'Ra had gotten there first, with their tunnels 
and their operative. Daniel had simply mentioned that fact. It wasn't 
like he had had any real say in the matter. Nevertheless, he had always 
suspected that Jack somehow held him personally responsible. 

"Yeah, it did seem like a good idea - at the time," Jack said cynically. 
"And what do they do as soon as we turn our backs, hum? They pack up the 
whole she-bang and high tail it outta there. And they've been shafting 
us ever since."	

Teal'c raised an inquiring eyebrow at O'Neill's latest bizarre 
expressions. "They had reason to believe that Heru'Ur had found them," 
he said, jumping to the defense of their alien friends. "Which is quite 
likely given the number of Horus guards on the planet. One of them could 
easily have been a spy. Do you not believe they are sincere when they 
say they will share any new technology with us?"

"Define 'new,'" Jack shot back. "And just how long has it been since 
they packed up and left? And what have we gotten back from them?" he 
asked "Nothing. Zero. Zip."

"What about that memory enhancing device Hathor used on us," Daniel 
reminded Jack. "Doesn't that count as new technology?"

Jack rolled his eyes in answer. "I meant technology we could use to hurt 
the Goa'uld, Daniel. So far the only good stuff the Tok'Ra have given us 
has been good for them, bad for us."

Sam looked down. "The Tok'Ra do consider us kind of...primitive," she 
put up a hand, forestalling another outburst from the Colonel. "Which is 
why I agree with you, Sir." She looked at Daniel, her eyes glittering 
possessively. "That ship is ours. We found it first, and I'm thinkin' 
that with Teal'c's knowledge and maybe...just maybe, with a little help 
from Jolinar, we can make that ship work."

"How do you figure?" Jack asked her quietly, uncomfortable whenever the 
name of the dead Tok'Ra came up.

"About Jolinar?" Sam looked at Teal'c. "You once told me that Jolinar 
led an attack against some System Lord but was defeated when Apophis 
joined the battle."

Teal'c nodded, smiling in understanding. "That is correct, Major Carter. 
Jolinar was in command of a fleet of ships, you believe you can retrieve 
memories having to do with ship functions from her." 

The Major grinned back at Teal'c. "Yup. Sir, we can use the memory 
enhancing technology. All we need to do is get into the ship's controls. 
If I have the device on, Teal'c can coach me, helping me remember what 
Jolinar hopefully knew about ship functions. I'm sure that together 
we'll be able to figure it out."	

"So am I!" Jack asserted, loudly confident. Teal'c's smile said that he 
was certainly up for the challenge.

"What about your father," Daniel asked, grasping at one last straw. 
"Couldn't he help keep the ship in Earth's possession while we benefited 
from the experience of Selmac?"

Sam grimaced. "Daniel, much as I love my dad, he works for the Tok'Ra 
now - takes orders from them. Normally, I don't have a problem with 
that, but --" 

"But, this is our show," Jack said. "Look, if things get out of hand, 
we'll have the Tok'Ra to fall back on. But personally, I have every 
confidence in Carter and Teal'c." He grinned, fixing a challenging gaze 
on his friend. "What's 'a matter, don't you?"

Daniel shrugged in defeat, recalling Lantash's warning when Apophis had 
been their prisoner and they thought they could hold him: 
"Overconfidence was their undoing O'Neill. I hope it has not become 
yours as well."  He kept the thought to himself, having said his piece. 
He would go along with them and do whatever he could to help. He still 
had a bad feeling about this, but, 'I told you so's', if they came at 
all, would have to wait until later. 

                         *******************

Sergeant Everett Siler sat at the briefing room table with SG units one 
and eleven, hiding his excitement under quiet discipline. It had helped 
him build a good reputation at this, arguably the most exciting military 
installation on the planet. His work on amalgamating Orbanian and Earth 
technologies into the ground-penetrating infrared scanner had boosted 
Major Carter's appreciation of his talents,  and now, at the request of 
Major Carter, he was going off world for the first time.  

Everett observed the easy confidence of the seven officers, four 
civilians and the lone alien that made up the two teams. They were old 
hands at this and despite the danger, the injury and even the loss their 
adventures sometimes brought them, it was obvious that they were 
impatient to get right back out there.

General Hammond entered the room and everyone stood in acknowledgment of 
his rank. "Good morning, people," he greeted them jovially. "What have 
you got for me."

Colonel O'Neill took his seat after the General, and the others followed 
suit. "Well, Sir, SG units one and eleven along with Sergeant Siler will 
go to P4N-285 to do some preliminary work," the Colonel said. "We'll 
establish long range communications with the SGC, then we will proceed 
to the ship and attempt to find a way in and to secure it." He pointed 
at the monitor showing the lightly glowing sarcophagus. "We'll start by 
taking out the garbage. Then Scotty, Geordi and B'Leanna here," he 
gestured to Everett, Teal'c and Major Carter, "will fire up the 
dilithium crystals. Daniel and I will re-arrange the furniture, do some 
light dusting, and then, well, we'll invite the President and Joint 
Chiefs over for a little house-warming."

The Colonel's words were met with soft chuckling all 'round. The mood in 
this room, Everett noted, was decidedly light, almost euphoric.

"Sergeant Siler and I are going to launch a tethersonde balloon equipped 
with monitoring equipment that will record any developments from the sky 
or from underground," Major Carter continued. "There'll be radio signal 
boosters on it so that we can stay in contact with you and a ground-
penetrating, heat-sensitive scanner like the one on the UAV, so you can 
see us once we're in the ship. Part of SG-11 will remain at the Gate 
until we've put them in place, to calibrate the signals with the MALP. 
Data will be recorded continuously, so each time the Gate opens you can 
download the new information for study." 

"The engineering team will accompany SG-1 to the site and do a ground 
survey in order to determine the safest and most efficient way to 
retrieve the ship, Sir," Lieutenant Colonel Luke Jones, US Army Engineer 
Corps, and the leader of SG-11, spoke up. "I'd like to start moving as 
much equipment as possible through the Gate. And, I can tell you right 
now, Sir, this operation is going to require a lot of manpower."

"How much manpower are we talking about?" the General asked.

"I won't know for certain until we do a thorough on site inspection. 
"Jones shrugged. "Based on what we know so far, a thousand people, if we 
plan on getting the ship to the surface within six months." Colonel 
Jones pulled a sheet of paper from his folder and handed it to the 
General. "This is a preliminary list of specialists - engineers, 
draftsmen, miners and geologists - that I'd like to have on board. 
They're good people, Sir, I can vouch for them."  

General Hammond frowned. "Good or not, Colonel, this is the country's 
most secret facility. It'll take some time to process this many people 
through security. I'll see what I can do to speed things up," he assured 
him. 

"Anything else?" the General asked, "No?" His eyes took in those seated 
around him. "Let me tell you people, Washington is as excited as you are 
about this. It'll be a feather in all our caps if we do this right. P4N-
285 is a go."

Everett grinned along with the others as they considered the happy 
implications. Only Doctor Jackson seemed not to share in the exuberance. 
The archeologist was staring, unseeing at his notes, clearly pre-
occupied. Everett shrugged. Doctor Jackson was a hard one to figure out, 
sometimes. For the moment, though, thoughts of promotion and of his 
impending adventure competed for Everett's attention and he quickly put 
the civilian out of his mind. 

                         *******************

Seven people made their way across P4N-285. The Field Remote 
Expeditionary Device took point, followed by SG-1, Sergeant Siler and 
two members of SG-11: Lieutenant Wayne Harris, their engineer, and 
Doctor Emma Ryder, their geologist. 

Rain-laden clouds scudded across the sky, soaking the land in patches 
and causing rainbows to appear in the pristine air all around them. Four 
of the planet's moons and its pale, lesser sun winked in and out of the 
clouds, drying the air without overly warming it.

Small rodents scrambled out of the way as the humans encroached on their 
territory. The tough high grass was resilient and sprang up behind the 
FRED's caterpillar tread, forcing the group to lift their feet high to 
avoid tripping in the tangle. Clouds of insects, disturbed by their 
passage, danced excitedly about their heads and crawled all over them. 
Other than these, the humans saw no other evidence of life in the area.

Sam walked with Emma Ryder. A sturdily built woman, she was taller even 
than Teal'c. The geologist had joined the SGC three months after Sam 
had, and was now the only surviving member of the original, ill-fated 
SG-11 unit. Like Daniel, her expertise was often required on other 
missions, and because of that, she was not with SG-11 either time that 
unit had become a casualty. Her supposed good luck lent a sort of 
superstitious fear to the SGC, and the new SG-11 was rarely sent off 
world without her. It also tended to make the already quiet woman even 
more aloof.

"So, what do you make of the circles, Emma?" Sam asked.

Though many circles dotted the land, none were near the Stargate. After 
nearly an hour of walking they had yet to encounter any. The geologist's 
practiced eye took in her surroundings unhurriedly. "Could be sinkholes, 
but I can't be sure." 

Sam frowned. "They don't look like any sinkholes I've ever seen. I mean, 
they're not sunken or anything." She swept an arm over the flat, 
featureless plain. "I thought this would be the wrong kind of terrain 
for sinkholes." 

The geologist shook her head. "Sinkholes can be found just about 
anywhere."

"Really?" Sam said. "I didn't know that."

Ryder just shrugged, obviously not interested in exchanging opinions or 
theories or speculations. Sam sighed inwardly. It was a long hike to the 
sunken ship. Just her luck that she was stuck with the only scientist 
she knew of who didn't like to talk.    

A slight rumble shook the ground. SG-1 stopped in their tracks. 
"Earthquake," Colonel O'Neill said in a grunt. He looked inquiringly at 
Sam.

"*Earth*quakes only happen on Earth, Jack," Daniel said, automatically 
correcting his friend, but he, too, looked to Sam for reassurance. 

Sam looked up and studied the busy sky. A fifth moon was now peeking 
over the horizon. "The moons might be the cause of these rumbles," she 
said. "Earth's solitary moon causes tidal movement on landmasses, 
imagine the influence all these must have here." She shrugged. "There's 
nothing here but grassland and the grounds' pretty flat. I don't think 
we're in any danger even if the 'quakes get stronger." She looked up at 
Doctor Ryder. "Right?"

The geologist answered with a nod.

"Felt like a shear wave," Lieutenant Harris said. 

The Colonel looked at SG-11's scientists expectantly. When neither 
offered to elaborate, he blinked in surprise. "Shear wave?" he prompted.

"It's the name of the surface movement caused by a specific kind of 
quake," Harris answered. "You may have noticed that during the quake the 
ground seemed to roll like a wave on the water."

"Yeah, I noticed that." the Colonel smiled. Apparently, neither of SG-
11's scientists wasted words. Sam knew that the Colonel could live with 
that. "Just the same, people, watch your step," he cautioned. 

                         *******************

Four hours after leaving the Gate, the group came upon a fair-sized 
circle. About six meters in circumference, it looked like it had been 
shaped by a cookie cutter, so clean was the demarcation between grass 
and gravel. 

SG-1 hesitated at the grassy edge, but the two members of SG-11 walked 
confidently into the middle of the circle. Doctor Ryder bent down and 
picked up a handful of the stones. They were of varying shades of gray, 
but otherwise, not like gravel at all. These stones were uniformly round 
and smooth, like perfectly spherical marbles. Aside from the stones, the 
circle was clean - no soil or other debris was mixed in among them. 

"I've never seen anything like these before," Wayne Harris exclaimed as 
he rolled several of the stones around in his palm. 

"Welcome to Marble World," Jack quipped. He picked up one of the stones, 
examining it closely. "No cracks, no air bubbles, no chips. These babies 
are perfect. Anyone here ever play ringer as a kid?"

Siler grinned. "All the time, Sir."

"Cool!" Jack said. "Maybe we could play a little game later. Carter, you 
must'a played with marbles."

"Yup. And I still have my best winners: Christmas trees, flaming 
dragons, golden rebels, supermans, tiger-eyes," she listed some of her 
favorite marbles by the names of their designs.

"Wow!" Daniel exclaimed enthusiastically. He dropped to his knees beside 
Jack and picked up a handful of stones. "I liked the supermans best. You 
got any hand-mades?"

Jack raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "*You* played with marbles?"

"I was quite good, actually," Daniel said smugly. Jack smiled. Tonight 
was going to be fun for a change.

All the humans were in the circle now, rummaging through the alien 
stones like kids looking for that special, lucky aggie to add to their 
collection. Jack looked up at Teal'c. The Jaffa wore a bemused 
expression as he watched the antics of his colleagues. "I take it you 
never played with marbles as a kid?"

"I did not." 

"Well, we'll teach you," Jack said. "Tonight. It's an Earth rule, you 
know. Every kid has got to know how to play marbles."

Teal'c frowned. "We are not kids, O'Neill."

"Ah, c'mon, Teal'c," Jack cajoled as he pawed happily through the little 
spheres. "There's a kid inside all of us, even you." He looked up at the 
Jaffa again. "And I'm not talking about Junior either." Teal'c remained 
standing. He looked out over the land, his expression appeared 
unchanged, but Jack recognized the slight spread of his lips that said 
the Jaffa was leading him on. Teal'c, you devil, Jack thought with a 
grin.

Daniel seemed pretty confident in his abilities, and if Carter played 
marbles the way she played pool, she'd be hard to beat. Those two would 
have to be on separate teams. Jack would team up with Teal'c. He'd play 
the old, "c'mon, we gotta be fair to the new guy," routine to the hilt, 
then he and Teal'c would walk away with all the marbles. No one would 
expect an ambush by the noble Jaffa. 

Ryder wriggled her hand into the circle of stones. She dug downward 
until her arm was buried up past her elbow. Jack watched her 
quizzically. "Ah, yes," he joked. "It's a well-known fact that the best 
marbles are always at the bottom of the pot." The quiet woman smiled 
distractedly. Her face took on a look of concentration, then, surprise 
and then, alarm. She strained to pull her arm back up, but the more she 
pulled, the more deeply into the stones her arm sank. 

"Ryder!" Jack jumped to his feet and went to help the struggling woman. 
As one, the rest of the group backed away. Jack managed to pull her free 
of the ground, but the effort left them both shaken. He put a steadying 
hand on her shoulder. "You all right?" 

She nodded, her face pale. "Thank you, Sir."

"What was that?" Daniel asked nervously.

Ryder studied her arm a moment. "I'm not sure," she said. "The stones 
seemed to pull on me the deeper into them I went." 

"You're kidding!" Carter stared with new appreciation at the stones in 
her hands. "I wonder if this has anything to do with the ship still 
being in the ground."

The geologist walked back into the circle and knelt on the stones. 
"Ryder, what are you doing?" Jack growled. She laid both hands flat on 
the stones and pushed down. Her hands remained on the surface. Carter 
followed her into the circle and mimicked the geologist. She then 
wriggled her fingers into the stones, stopping when she was buried up to 
her wrist. "Carter!" Jack rolled his eyes in exasperation. "For cryin' 
out loud, what is it with you people?"

Carter's eyes closed as she concentrated on what was happening just 
below the surface. "There's  definitely a pull, but it's not too bad at 
this depth." She looked at Ryder. "It almost feels fluidic, except that 
it's dry." The geologist nodded her agreement. Slowly Carter pulled her 
hand back. It came out of the ground easily. She looked up at Jack. "The 
stones must generate some sort of field the deeper into them you go. It 
isn't strong on the surface, though. We're probably safe as long as we 
don't try to stick anything into it."

"Oh, you mean like body parts?" Jack said sarcastically. "Now get out of 
there, both of you," he commanded.

The women obeyed. "Why are the stones contained in these circles?" 
Carter persisted. "Where are they coming from?"

Ryder slowly shook her head, baffled. She looked over at her teammate. 
"Let's shoot it." 

"Shoot the marbles? Sounds a little drastic," Jack said. He turned to 
Teal'c and muttered. "Scientists. What they can't understand, they 
shoot." 

Carter chuckled. Jack noted that although she was equally mystified by 
what Ryder wanted to do, she didn't appear worried. Jack was good at 
reading her. Maybe he didn't know much science, but he knew his people. 
He trusted Carter's judgment implicitly in these matters. In spite of 
Ryder's bizarre experience, as long as his Major wasn't alarmed, he 
didn't feel the need to be. 

"A shot-point, Sir," Harris explained. "We shoot a probe through this 
stuff, then we track its echo on our sensors. Hopefully it'll give us a 
clue about how these circles formed, the geological stability of the 
crust, seismic activity, you know, that kind of stuff."

"How long will all that take?" 

Harris shrugged. "Depends on what we find. Could take twenty minutes, 
could take a couple of hours."

"Do it," Jack commanded. "Long as we're stopped we'll break for lunch. 
Carter, don't let 'em shoot all the marbles. I'm sure you'll want to add 
some to your rock collection. Just skim 'em off the top. No more 
stickin' your hands where they don't belong. And make sure you pick up 
enough for tonight's tournament."

She grinned. "Yes, Sir."

"Shooting" the site was easy. The probe met little resistance as it sank 
deeper into the loosely packed stones. They set up the seismometer. 
Almost immediately an image began to form on the graph on the screen.

"Huh!" Harris grunted in surprise. He stared at the image. It was not 
the jagged lines of normal seismic activity, but hundreds of tiny dots 
that quickly covered the page. "Whaddya make of that?"

Ryder knelt over the seismometer, pondering the image in silence as a 
seismic picture formed. The planet continued to tremble, but the 
vibrations, too subtle to be noticed by humans, were easily picked up by 
the sensitive equipment. The screen quickly filled with tiny dots, 
turning the page a solid black. "Lahar." 

"What? Wait," Daniel sputtered. "Lahar? How's that possible?"

"What?" Jack said. "What's a lahar, anyway?"

"Debris flow." Harris said, equally disbelieving.

"It's an Indonesian term," Daniel offered. "It describes the movement of 
a body of material propelled and controlled by gravity, like from lava 
and mudflows. See, gravity propels the flow downward from, say, the top 
of a volcano." He held his right hand high and to the side, palm open, 
and made to bring it down as though descending a slope. Jack grabbed his 
arm.

"Okay, a mudflow. I got it."

"Lahar can move incredibly fast," Daniel continued, unperturbed. "That's 
what buried Pompeii. The wall of hot mud even overtook horse-driven 
chariots." He turned to Ryder, his tone challenging. "Lahar only happens 
where there's slope. This area's too flat."

"I know." The geologist said. 

Harris frowned as he studied the darkening screen. "But that's what the 
data appears to be telling us."

"That's not all it's telling us." Carter pointed at the monitor. Jack 
caught the shift in the Major's tone. He ignored the monitor to study 
her face. She wore the beginnings of a frown, her lips were set in sober 
curiosity, not quite turned down enough for worry. Not yet. He looked at 
the monitor. 

"The probe is still moving," Harris said. "And not just downwards, 
either. It's deviated westward by point-seven degrees already." He 
looked at Jack and shrugged. "I can't explain it, Sir. I guess we 
shouldn't be surprised, though; this isn't Earth, after all. It's not 
the first time we've encountered unlikely geology."

"What, you too?" Jack exclaimed, feigning surprise. If there was one 
thing all the SG teams had seen since their first forays through the 
Gate, it was just how "unlikely" the galaxy could be. "You want to 
revise your risk assessment, Doctor?" 

Ryder stood up and looked out over the prairie a long moment, lost in 
thought. "Nope," she finally answered.

Jack raised both eyebrows, unfailingly surprised at the scientist's 
brevity. He glanced at Carter who was failing to hide a smirk, and 
allowed his wariness to lower just a notch. "Well, since you put it that 
way," Jack shrugged. "Lunch is ready. Let's eat."

                         *******************

The group sat in the grass, well clear of the circle, and tried to avoid 
eating bugs along with their lunch. The insects swarmed in a chaotic 
dance around them, eager to investigate the exotic delicacies that were 
MREs.

"I have given much thought as to which Goa'uld may be in the 
sarcophagus," Teal'c said. 

Daniel looked up from the pasty bland mush that claimed to be lasagna, 
happy for the distraction. "So...who?"

"I believe this Goa'uld is Amon-Ptah."

Jack's head shot up from trying to fish a bug out of his coffee. His 
mouth dropped open and he looked quickly from Teal'c to Sam, and back to 
Teal'c again. "Excuse me? Samantha!?" 

Teal'c cocked his head and stared at Jack, confused. Daniel smiled. 
"Amon-Ptah," he said slowly and clearly. "What makes you think it's 
him?" 

"What?" Jack asked, his wariness notching upwards again. "Who is 
this...Am-an-tah, guy, anyway?" His eyes shifted to Sam and he shrugged 
at her reproving look.

"I cannot be certain that it is he," Teal'c answered. "But I believe it 
is possible. The Goa'uld call Amon-Ptah the Hidden One. He has been 
hidden from sight for ten thousand years. The belief is that whoever 
finds him will be rewarded beyond all expectation."

"Ten thousand years." Jack looked impressed. "So, who's he hiding from?" 

"Amon-Ptah was the master craftsman in Egyptian mythology," Daniel said, 
trying to reason out the answer himself. "He created with stone, whereas 
Sokar, his counterpart, created with metal. He's said to have sculpted 
the gods and created all living things. When he was finished, he just... 
disappeared."

"Whoa, wait a minute, back up! Did you say he sculpted the gods?" Sam 
asked. "What, as in, made the gods?"

"That is correct, Major Carter." Teal'c's eyes took on an angry glint. 
"It was also he who made the Jaffa what we are." 

"Thus it is said of Ptah:" Daniel quoted the Egyptian mythology from 
memory. "He who made all things and created the gods. So be it 
recognized and understood: that he is the mightiest of all the gods." A 
theory formed in his mind. "Of course! The greatest difference between 
modern Goa'uld and primitive Goa'uld, --"

"Is that there's no naquadah in primitive Goa'uld," Sam said. "Are you 
saying that Amon-Ptah --" 

"Figured out a way to elevate primitive Goa'uld - maybe...accelerate 
their evolution," Daniel finished.

"And naquadah may have been part of the process." Sam frowned. "I don't 
know, Daniel. There's no naquadah on the Goa'uld home world and the Unas 
we met there were primitive. I find it hard to believe that a natural 
Goa'uld could be that intelligent." 

"Unless he infested a host who happened to have naquadah in its system," 
Daniel countered. "Being a parasite, maybe he could have taken advantage 
of that." 

"Who besides the Goa'uld have naquadah already in their system?" Sam 
asked.

"The Ancients?" Wayne suggested. "Maybe he infested one of the Ancients 
when they came to install the Gate on the Goa'uld home world"

"Biologically, it wouldn't have been that simple," Sam argued. "The 
Goa'uld couldn't pass naquadah onto their offspring simply because 
they'd infested someone with naquadah. Though they are a highly 
resourceful species, so I suppose it's at least possible."   

Daniel shrugged. "Well, all of this is just speculation, anyway. We 
don't have a lot to go on, except for what the mythology says - both 
Egyptian and," he gestured toward Teal'c. "Apparently, Goa'uld myth, as 
well." 

Teal'c continued his story. "Ptah found much favor with the System Lords 
who conferred upon him the rank of Amon - King of the gods. However, 
instead of territory, Ptah demanded and was given whatever resources he 
desired both for his ease and for his scientific pursuits."

Jack shook his head and held the index finger of both hands up in front 
of his face as he tried to take in what he had just learned. "So...a 
snakehead scientist?" 

"Precisely, O'Neill." Teal'c answered.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Great!"

"Ptah also sent out his servants to seek the most intelligent hosts 
among all the holdings of the Goa'uld," Teal'c went on. "He was welcomed 
wherever he went, since it meant technological advancement for the 
Goa'uld hosting his entourage. He is reputed as being benevolent, both 
toward the Goa'uld and toward his slaves. 

"A benevolent Goa'uld?" Jack snorted in disbelief. "I don't buy that."

"Ptah had no naquadah mines, no land holdings, and what few slaves he 
had were scientists and artisans."

Daniel nodded. "It stands to reason that he'd treat his people well. I 
imagine it would be pretty hard to think creatively after a long day in 
the mines."

"Oh, I don't know," Jack said sardonically. "After a few days starving 
in Pyrus' mines we came up with some pretty creative ideas about where 
he could stick his naquadah."  

Daniel's face flushed with embarrassment at the memory of his month with 
Shyla, living in the lap of luxury, while his team languished in her 
father's naquadah mine. He was grateful when Teal'c spoke again.

"Ptah gave great gifts to the System Lords. It is he who built the 
ha'tak vessels and death-gliders."

"I thought they stole those," Jack said, returning his attention to the 
bugs that were swimming in his coffee.

"Whether he invented them or merely stole the designs for them, I cannot 
say," Teal'c replied. "Amon-Ptah has been missing for ten thousand 
years. He is highly regarded by the Goa'uld, and I know only what the 
legends tell of him."

"This ship doesn't look like anything we've ever seen before, so, 
there's a pretty good chance that it is, uh...Amon-Ptah," Sam said, 
shuddering in distaste. It was true, Daniel thought, the name did sound 
like Sam's, but without the S.  

"To this day, the search for the Great Maker is a sacred quest for many 
Goa'uld who aspire to become System Lords," Teal'c said. "This quest may 
even have extended the boundaries of Goa'uld exploration. I doubt there 
are any worlds known to them that have not been thoroughly searched, but 
there has never been so much as a trace of Amon-Ptah or of his 
servants."

"Well, P4N-285 isn't on the Abydos cartouche," Sam reminded them. "It's 
one of the addresses the Colonel uploaded to our computer from the 
Alliance library."

"So, you're saying Amon-Ptah found this place, where no one would think 
to look, to work on, what, some top secret project, maybe?" Everett 
asked, an edge of excitement in the quiet man's tone.

Daniel shrugged. "Why not? I mean, if he's as intelligent as Teal'c says 
and if he had limitless resources, he could have found a way."	

"He can't be so intelligent," Jack muttered. "If he's been stuck here 
without a crew for ten thousand years."

"Well, since this planet isn't in Goa'uld territory so to speak, then 
maybe that ship didn't just sink by accident." Sam added. She gestured 
toward the circle of stones. "This planet's geology is weird. We were 
wondering why the Goa'uld didn't just turn on their engines and lift 
themselves out of their hole. What if they can't? What if the energy 
field in those stones is strong enough to negate the energy in 
naquadah?"

"Like Thor's cave back on Cimmeria?"

"Yes, Sir," Sam answered, surprised by the Colonel's insightful comment. 
"I hadn't thought about that, but it makes sense. Something in Thor's 
cavern made Teal'c's staff unusable. We just assumed that it was some 
sort of Asgard technology, but what if it wasn't? What if it was a 
naturally occurring phenomenon that the Asgard knew how to exploit? Come 
to think of it, I couldn't get the ribbon-device to work while we were 
hiding out inside Olaf's cave either. Sir," she said excitedly, "if 
you're right, then these stones may be as big a find as that ship."

"The sarcophagus is working," Daniel reminded her.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe the ship's interior is shielded, whereas anything 
directly exposed to the soil isn't."

"It is possible," Teal'c agreed, equally excited, despite his even tone. 
"These stones could become a potent weapon against Goa'uld technology." 

"Throw stones at the Goa'uld? That's something we haven't tried yet," 
Jack said.

"Humans have used this tactic successfully in the past," Teal'c reminded 
him. "Your Bible speaks of a young shepherd boy who struck down a giant 
with one well-aimed stone."

"David and Goliath," Daniel said. "The classic mix of human 
resourcefulness and Divine intervention, of right over might, good over 
evil."

"And these aren't just any old stones, Sir."

Jack grinned. "Your right, Major, they're Thor's stones. Soon as we get 
home you can build us some fancy slingshots. The Goa'uld won't know what 
hit 'em right between the eyes." 

"Individually the stones don't appear to be very dangerous," Doctor 
Ryder reminded them. 

"True," Sam agreed. "It's more likely the field they generate that's 
important. And if Ptah's first host was one of the Ancients then maybe 
his host knew that. Maybe he influenced the Goa'uld to come here, hoping 
that the planet might take him out." 

Silence fell over the group. Daniel stared down at his plate, not seeing 
the flies that feasted on his untouched meal. Sam was right. It had 
happened before. Kendra had persuaded her Goa'uld to go to Cimmeria 
where it died by Thor's Hammer. When the Colonel and Teal'c had been 
caught on Klorrel's ship, Daniel was convinced that it was Skarra who 
made Klorrel disobey Apophis' command and spare the lives of Jack and 
Teal'c, long enough for him and Sam to rescue them. 

And Sha're. She had been so strong, so faithful despite the years and 
the unimaginable abuse. Back on Abydos, she had somehow blinded her 
Goa'uld to Daniel's presence as he and his teammates hid from Apophis. 
Then, the last time he had seen her, Sha're had not tried to escape 
death at Teal'c's hand. She had consoled her husband, had shown him what 
was in her heart and told him to forgive Teal'c. Yes, Sha're had proven 
how well she could control both her parasite and her heart. If Sam was 
right, and Ptah's host had brought him here to die, then SG-1 owed it to 
him to finish the job the planet had started.

"Break's over," Jack said curtly. "Let's get moving."

                         *******************

It took another five hours before they finally reached their 
destination. Major Carter stopped and studied the readouts from her hand 
held sensor. "We've arrived at the coordinates, Sir," she called out. 
The ship's apex is...." She covered the ground in several long strides 
and stopped. "About seventy meters straight down."

"All right!" O'Neill clapped his hands eagerly. "Let's get this show on 
the road. Harris, what can we do to help?"

"We'll start by demarcating the perimeter," the Lieutenant said. "If you 
could follow us around and plant stakes that would be good." 

"Sir, I'd like to set up my equipment over there," Major Carter said, 
extending her arm and pointing due west of their position. "About one 
klik away from the ship's edge and out of the way of the excavations."

"Do it," O'Neill said. "Teal'c, Siler." He gestured with his head that 
they should go with the Major.

Once at the site, Teal'c prepared the balloon while the two scientists 
unpacked the equipment it would carry. He adjusted the restraining 
straps that held the balloon as it filled with helium. Deflated and 
folded, it took up no more space than a large pillow. The material 
seemed flimsy to Teal'c and he privately wondered how this limp mass of 
thin plastic was going to hold aloft so much equipment. Major Carter and 
Sergeant Siler seemed unconcerned however. They were busy arranging the 
balloon's payload into six different groupings, giving them a final 
check before packing each group into separate, lightweight plastic 
cages.

As Teal'c's balloon grew, it took on the appearance of a giant orange 
missile with fins. The lighter-than-air gas forced in through an 
inflation tube in its nose caused the tethered balloon to stand on end 
above his head. Looking up at it, Teal'c imagined himself as that 
unfortunate cartoon coyote he enjoyed watching - the one that was always 
inevitably crushed by his own ingenious devices in his schemes to 
capture the roadrunner bird. He glanced over at the scientists. They 
must have imagined the same scenario, for they had stopped working, and 
were grinning at the sight. Teal'c pulled out his boonie hat, making a 
show of solemnly covering his head against the bomb. The pair dissolved 
into loud peels of laughter. Teal'c smiled back. Tau'ri humor would 
never be as good as Jaffa humor, but it had its moments. 

He had developed a liking for cartoons, and of them all, the antics of 
the coyote and the roadrunner were the most entertaining. To him, they 
served as an apt analogy for SG-1's frequent encounters with Apophis. 
Like the coyote, Apophis' cunning plans were ingenious and convoluted. 
Like the roadrunner, Teal'c's team always seemed to get the upper hand 
of him and escape more or less unscathed. And, like the coyote, Apophis 
always came back, even when his own schemes literally blew up in his 
face. 

Teal'c's smile vanished. There were a lot of coyotes among the Goa'uld, 
some wilier than Apophis. If it was truly Amon-Ptah buried in that ship, 
then SG-1 would have to use extreme caution, for he may just be the most 
guileful of them all. Perhaps it would have been wiser to enlist the aid 
of the more experienced Tok'Ra. 

Although he understood O'Neill's desire to procure weapons to protect 
Earth, he also knew that pride played a big part in his decision, 
whether the human admitted it or not. Teal'c's first allegiance was 
toward the Tau'ri and he would stick by them, come what may, but to him 
it made little difference who saved the galaxy from the Goa'uld, as long 
as his people could finally know freedom.

In good time the balloon and its precious cargo was aloft. Teal'c set up 
camp while Major Carter and Sergeant Siler contacted SG-11 and 
calibrated their equipment with what had been set up at the Gate site. 
Through the radio he could hear the engines of earth-moving machinery 
coming through the Stargate in preparation for the mammoth excavation 
project. Spirits were high at both sites as work progressed without a 
hitch.

After supper, Sergeant Siler pulled out the large bag of "marbles" and 
the group taught Teal'c how to play the Tau'ri game under the brightly 
lit night-sky. 

Eleven moons of various sizes crossed the sky in tight formation, 
eclipsing each other as they raced toward the eastern horizon. The group 
talked long into the night of the strange phenomenon of the moon's 
retrograde orbits. 

Usually, moons behaved like Earth's solitary satellite, rising in the 
east and setting in the west. Occasionally, the Stargate brought them to 
planets with a different angular rotation than normal, but this was the 
first world on record with so many moons that all defied the norm. 
Theories and stories about their observations on other planets were 
tossed around like the marbles they played with. Teal'c quickly mastered 
the Tau'ri game, and he and O'Neill finished with the lion's share of 
the marbles. Finally, the group settled down for a few hours of sleep.

                         *******************

Jack was shaken awake. He stood up abruptly, as did the hairs on his 
neck. Teal'c stood beside him, the whites of his eyes huge as they swept 
over the land. 

"Something is not right, O'Neill. My symbiote has become agitated."

Jack's jaw clenched in alarm. "Reetou?" he breathed. 

Teal'c shook his head. "I do not believe so. My symbiote is not in pain 
as when Reetou are present." His voice dropped to a whisper. "It is 
afraid."

Jack shot him a look. "Afraid?" Teal'c said nothing. The men stood back 
to back, scanning the area for signs of danger. The dawn was still as 
death. No breeze rustled the long grass and even the ubiquitous insects 
had vanished. Jack looked toward the east. "Maybe Junior doesn't like 
the light-show." A large moon was just touching the horizon as it set. 
Three smaller moons appeared to hang inside the circle of the large full 
moon. 

Teal'c turned and studied the sky with his companion. He frowned deeply 
with discomfort. "Perhaps."

Suddenly a blinding flash shot forth from the horizon and spread like a 
shockwave, igniting the surface of the world. The planet's main sun was 
rising. "Argh!" Jack put a hand to his face, massaging his eyes and 
temples vigorously. He put his sunglasses on.

"Unh!" Teal'c grunted. He pulled up his Tee shirt and stared at his 
pouch. Its x-shaped orifice pulled open and Teal'c's larva darted 
partially out, up to half its body. It let out a high-pitched, anxious 
keening as it waved to and fro, retracting into its shelter and then 
pulling out again, as if undecided what it should do. 

Suddenly a sound like canon fire boomed loudly on the horizon. The land 
before them heaved, rising up then bowing low as though doing obeisance 
to the pantheon of moons and the rising sun. 

"Quake!" Wayne Harris shouted as he joined the two men. "A big one!"  
The rest of the team, alerted by the noise, rushed toward the trio. They 
watched in helpless fascination as the huge groundswell raced toward 
them and the wave hit. The ground beneath them heaved and rolled, 
violently knocking everyone off their feet.

Jack rode the wave like a kid rides the roller coaster, knowing enough 
to be terrified, but not enough to keep from being exhilarated. He was 
aware of the others rolling around next to him. Then, as quickly as it 
had begun, it was over. 

He lay still, reveling in the sensation of the ride. He made a quick 
body count, noting with relief  that the ground hadn't opened up and 
swallowed anyone. However, the tables laden with the scientist's 
delicate equipment had not fared as well. He had seen them rise on the 
wave and then collapse in a heap. Carter was going to be ticked. 

"*Damn!*"

He looked toward the sound and saw Sam, already standing, staring in 
dismay at her equipment, and confirming his thought. "Everyone all 
right?" he called out. Various muttered replies confirmed that none of 
the team was any the worse for wear. Sam rushed over to her precious 
equipment and sank to her knees, clucking over her do-hickeys like a 
flustered mother hen. "Carter?" he called out.

"Oh I'm just peachy, Sir," she ground out angrily. "Wish I could say the 
same for this." She held up a small machine. About the size of a 
shoebox, it's casing was cracked and its little monitor was broken. She 
dropped it in disgust.

Jack walked up to her and surveyed the damage. Most of the equipment had 
shared the same fate as the piece Carter was grieving over. He toed the 
broken monitor. "Does this mean we won't be able to watch the soaps 
while we're here?" 

Sam closed her eyes and shook her head, too exasperated to be mollified 
by the Colonel's humor. "Yeah, something like that." She sighed and her 
shoulders drooped. "Now we have no way of seeing what's going on inside 
the ship."

Jack frowned as he looked up at the sky. "I thought that's what all that 
stuff up there was for." He gestured to the balloon, its burden still 
safely in place on the tether-line. Sam didn't even look up. She just 
shook her head again.

"What's up there is useless unless what's down here can access it." She 
reached out to the radio signal booster. It, at least, was still intact. 
She re-calibrated it.

"...eill!" A voice rang out from the radio. "This is Sierra Golf eleven-
niner. Respond!" 

Sam's hand froze over the controls, the urgency in Colonel Jones's voice 
was chilling. She looked up at her commanding officer as he answered the 
hail. "O'Neill here. What's going on, Luke?"

A sound like crashing thunder almost drowned out the shouted reply. "All 
hell, Jack! We got hit by a quake. Fisk is gone." Harris and Ryder 
shared a horrified look. 

"And so is the Stargate!" 

                         *******************

Jack stood absolutely still, the color draining from his face. The Gate 
was gone? 

An image flashed up from his memory: a barren gully on Edora. The 
Stargate, lost under tons of soil impenetrable by the primitive tools he 
had had on hand. The Gate was gone.

"Jack, do you read?" Colonel Jones's voice was raw with emotion. "The 
goddamn Gate is gone! The quake just swallowed it up." 

"Sir, this is Harris," the engineer answered his commanding officer's 
call through his own radio. "Is everyone else all right?" The sound of 
his voice shook Jack out of his stupor, but still he remained silent, 
letting Harris talk.

"Yeah," Jones responded. "The quake's stopped, but...."

"Sir," Wayne spoke calmly but forcefully into the radio. "Put some 
distance between you and the hole."

"Yeah, yeah, we're moving," Jones responded breathlessly, having to 
shout over the crashing sound that accompanied his voice through the 
radio. "It's the damnedest thing I've ever seen, Harris. Gravel is 
filling the hole back up as though there's some kind of conveyor belt 
dumping the stuff into it. Fisk never had a chance. Gate opened right on 
top of him. I--" His voice broke. "I couldn't help him."

Jack noted the shock in the man's voice and took over again. "We're on 
our way," he said grimly.

Jack set the team a brisk pace as they marched across the plain. The 
land around them was eerily still; there was no breeze, no animals, even 
the insects had abandoned them. Only the explosive sound that 
accompanied the aftershocks broke the silence as the team moved forward. 

There were definitely more quakes today than there had been yesterday, 
and they were far more intense. Carter theorized that the moons must be 
the cause, and that their alignment probably meant the planet was in for 
a few weeks of moderate to severe quakes. 

After each tremor the two teams spoke to each other over the radio. 
Jones and his men had gotten the heavy machinery, along with the MALP 
with its radio relay station to more stable ground for the time being. 
The DHD was intact.

In their march back to the Gate Sam took point along with Emma and 
Wayne. The three were spread out in a wide, triangular formation, 
sweeping the ground with their sensor equipment in the hopes of avoiding 
the more dangerous areas.

"Heads up," the Colonel's quiet warning came through the radio. Sam 
looked up. Everyone had stopped and was looking toward the geologist. 
She was slowly going over a patch of ground with her hand-held sensor.

"Ground here is stable, but I'm picking something up," Ryder called into 
the eerie silence. She shook her head - a big, side-to-side movement 
that clearly said she did not believe what the readings were telling 
her.  

As Sam and Wayne converged on the geologist, their sensors started 
emitting a popping sound, and row upon row of number sequences played 
out on their small screens. "Readings from the probe?" Wayne exclaimed. 
"That can't be right." 	

Emma's frown deepened and she shook her head again. "It's the probe."

Wayne stared at his teammate, unbelieving despite the certainty in her 
voice. "Emma, this has gotta be at least four kliks from where we 
anchored it." 

The Colonel and the others caught up with the three scientists. "What's 
up?" Daniel asked.

"What's *down* is more like it," Wayne muttered.  "And apparently, the 
answer is, the probe is down," he pointed at Daniel's feet. "There. A 
good ten meters down."

"The probe. *The* probe?" Daniel cocked his head, both eyebrows raised 
as he tried to comprehend what Harris was telling him. "The probe you 
shot into that crop-circle," he swept his arm out in an arc, pointing 
off into the distance. "Way over there?"

"Yes," the tone in Wayne's one word answer both agreeing it was 
impossible and confirming that it was the case. 

"All right," Jack said. "Even I know this is screwy. So, how is that 
possible?" The group looked at each other a moment, as though trying to 
read the answer off the other's faces.

"Lahar."

Everyone turned to Teal'c. Teal'c looked at Emma. "Colonel Jones spoke 
of gravel re-filling the hole where the Stargate lies, as though there 
was a conveyance mechanism in the ground. Is that not like the lahar of 
which you spoke earlier?"

"Lahar requires gravity to work," Emma said.

"But yesterday you said --" Daniel started.

"I *suspected* that lahar may be at work deep underground, not near the 
surface where gravity wouldn't enter into the equation. This runs 
counter to any mass movement mechanics I've ever observed." She put a 
hand to her head, pinching her eyes tightly closed as though all that 
talking was giving her a headache. Guilt was evident on the frustrated 
woman's face. 

"Not your fault, Ryder," the Colonel said quietly.  Unlikely geology, 
remember?"  She frowned the more deeply and kept her eyes closed, but 
acknowledged the Colonel's words with a nod. "Back into formation, 
everyone," he commanded. "Move out." Wordlessly, the group returned to 
their positions and resumed their march. 

Sam advanced cautiously over the ground, her senses on high alert. If 
gravity wasn't moving the probe, what was, she wondered. The energy 
field in the layer of stones? Colonel Jones said they were moving fast, 
filling in the hole that had opened under the Gate. Rocks weren't 
supposed to move around like that.

Suddenly Teal'c's voice sounded over her radio.  "We are about to 
experience another quake." 

Sam stopped. She scanned the horizon, watching for the telltale wave the 
quakes caused in the land. Her mouth went dry and her blood fled deep 
within her, protecting her organs - an autonomic reaction to fear that 
was getting a thorough workout this day. 

She saw it; the now-familiar undulating roll of prairie several hundred 
meters wide, bearing down swiftly upon them. She stared, both enthralled 
and terrified, Her hand-held sensor let out a high-pitched warning, too 
late, of imminent collapse underfoot.

The wave hit, and with it, the accompanying sense that everything was 
happening in slow motion. Sam watched as first Emma, and then Teal'c and 
Wayne were lifted up and thrown down by the violent pitch of the land 
swell. Then it was her turn. The land rose up to meet her. It snapped at 
her soles like a whip, sending a painful jolt through her body. She fell 
facedown and clutched the grass, enduring the ride, holding tightly to 
the mane of tough vegetation while the earth bucked beneath her. The 
ground hunched again and reared up, tossing Sam off its back as easily 
as she would flick an insect from her skin.

For a second, as time continued to move in slow motion, Sam hung 
motionless in the air. Then she fell. Sam's arms flailed, windmilling as 
her body tried to right itself. She fell, instinctively aware that she 
should have landed by now. Finally she landed in an awkward crouch that 
pitched her onto her back. She was in a hole, its lip just beyond the 
reach of her outstretched hand. The ground beneath her shuddered 
insanely as though still in the throes of the quake. 

Sam gained her feet with difficulty as she scrambled clumsily against 
flowing gravel. An inexhaustible torrent of little round stones vibrated 
madly as they gushed from their place in the walls and fell, gathering 
in a Saint Vitus's dance around her legs. Sam felt like an ant that had 
fallen into a hole with a working jackhammer. She reached up for the 
surface, but it had further receded from her. She was sinking fast. 
Already the stones pouring out of the walls had buried her almost to her 
knees. Sam panicked, remembering the difficulty Emma had just pulling 
her arm out of the ground, and the probe that had been found, ten meters 
deep and four kilometers away from its mooring. 

"Colonel!" she screamed as the stones rose to mid thigh.

"Major Carter!"

She looked up into the face of Teal'c. He was on his stomach, body 
dangerously extended over the lip of solid ground above her, one arm 
extended. "Teal'c!" she gasped, reaching up to grab his hand. Teal'c 
engulfed her right hand in his giant palm and pulled with all his 
strength, his face tense with exertion. Sam grasped his wrist with her 
left hand and bent her elbows, using Teal'c as leverage against the pull 
of the stones' energy field. 

Sam couldn't breathe. The stones climbed higher, and despite Teal'c's 
hold on her, she sank deeper into the pit. They buried her up to her 
chest. Pressure forced the air from her lungs. Still Teal'c held her. 
The stones poured from the walls, relentless. They were up to her 
armpits. Her left hand slipped away from her grip on him. She flailed 
wildly at the encroaching stones in a futile attempt to brush them away.

                         *******************

Teal'c's ears filled with terrifying sounds: of the ground rumbling, of 
Major Carter's grunts of exertion as she fought with him to free 
herself, grunts that changed to harsh gasps as the rising flood of 
stones crushed her. He felt her hold on his hand weakening, and he 
squeezed all the harder. 

He heard shouting, felt pressure on his waist and legs as the others 
took hold of him and tried to pull him and the Major back from the pit. 
Teal'c's entire upper body now hung over the sinkhole. With one hand he 
held onto the Major while with his other he vainly sought purchase on 
the collapsing earth. 

Teal'c grit his teeth in fear. He was no match for the sinkhole; the 
harder he pulled, the more deeply into the pit he followed his teammate. 
The stones reached to the Major's shoulders now. Desperation sent a 
reserve of strength and he heaved with all his might. The sharp pull 
tore her shoulder from its socket, dislocating it. For a few seconds the 
two hung in suspension, staring at each other. The stones rose to her 
chin and she could no longer move her head. Her eyes were wild with 
terror and disbelief. They pleaded with him to save her, but he could 
only watch helplessly as more stones flooded around her face, submerging 
her completely. He squeezed her hand, desperate not to lose her, and 
felt the sickening crunch of bones breaking in his too strong grasp. Her 
arm and then both their hands disappeared into the gravel as the planet 
prepared to swallow him along with her. He was yanked back, away from 
the hole, and he lost his grip on her. 

Disbelieving, his eyes raked the ground where Major Carter had 
disappeared, but already there was no trace of his friend. The stones 
continued their rise. She was gone.

Teal'c screamed.

                         *******************

George Hammond made his way to the clearing on the mountain. SG-1 had 
dubbed this spot 'AT&T' in honor of their three closest allies - the 
Asgard, the Tok'Ra, and the Tollan. George knew it well, even if he 
wasn't the one who usually placed the calls to the aliens. It was a good 
place to get a clear look at the stars, and from time to time George did 
just that. Looking skyward, he'd have a one-sided chat with his old war 
buddy, keeping Jacob up to date with the goings-on of the world in 
general and of his daughter in particular. 

Jacob Carter had been a close friend since '70. They had served together 
in Vietnam, as well as on a lot of missions not always officially 
recognized by the USAF or the American government. He had been a Captain 
at the time, and Jacob, a Major. When, in '72, Jacob had invited him to 
his home and he had met young Samantha, George knew that it wasn't for 
the first time. Three years earlier, she had been twenty-seven years 
older, and an Air Force Captain. Knowing what lay ahead for both of 
them, George had taken a real liking to the energetic and inquisitive 
child, following her rapid progress and considerable accomplishments 
with all the interest of a proud uncle. Meeting her then, and knowing 
what the future held for him,  had given the younger George the boldness 
to keep taking the high risk assignments that had put him on the fast 
track to promotion. 

Years later, during his stint in the Pentagon, a paper passed his desk - 
a thesis by a brilliant young officer on the use of black holes as a 
theoretical means of interstellar travel. It wasn't long before Captain 
Carter was working for him, on the project of her dreams. He was careful 
to keep his distance at that time, watching from the sidelines to see 
when and how she would hook up with the three men who would accompany 
her on that fateful trip through time. A trip, he had no doubt, that 
would have something to do with a certain alien artifact: the one that 
General West's people and his were trying to get to work again, as it 
had on August 11, 1969, when four people, a woman and three men, had 
activated and passed through it, literally disappearing into thin air. 

But on this night, George had no good news to relay to his friend. SG 
teams one and eleven had made it home, but not all of them. They had 
come hurtling through the Gate amidst a hail of stones, haggard, 
injured, in shock, and minus two of their group. The Gate on P4N-285 was 
on its back in a deep hole, and the planet seemed bent on burying it for 
good. George sighed. It could have been worse. He could have lost them 
all. 

He set the Tollan communication device on the ground and activated it. A 
compact beam of bright light instantly shot from the device and headed 
unerringly to its intended recipient hiding among the stars.  

It shouldn't have been such a shock for him. He knew that every time 
anyone passed through the Stargate, the risk of losing someone was 
great, but, of the four people making up SG-1, Sam Carter usually 
managed to return uninjured. If collectively, SG-1 had a reputation for 
having the nine lives of a cat, then of the four, Sam had always been 
the one most likely to land on her feet. 

Not this time. Sam was dead. Buried alive. 

Years spent fighting powerful human and alien enemies against incredible 
odds and coming out the victor had almost led George to believe the 
young woman was charmed. But what do you do when a planet conspires 
against you? Apparently, you lose. He grimaced. Everybody's luck runs 
out, eventually. 

George bent to retrieve the device. He trudged through the forest, back 
to the base where a related task awaited his attention.
                                          
Captain Bernie Fisk had shared Major Carter's fate, and there were 
letters to the family that had to be written. All personnel who worked 
under him had a cover story in the event of their deaths. Necessary as 
it was, George would never be comfortable lying about the loss of good 
people to a war their grieving family members didn't even know was being 
fought. They deserved better. George shook his head wearily. He 
straightened his stance and squared his shoulders as he left the woods, 
carrying his burden of responsibility alone, as was expected of him. 

                         *******************

Teal'c sat cross-legged on the floor in his room. It was brightly lit by 
every candle he had in his possession. Their flickering glow marked the 
hours as they burned down. The air was stiflingly warm and close. He 
stared down at his hands: big, strong, dependable. He hated them. They 
had betrayed him. They had betrayed Major Carter. 

His symbiote fidgeted within him, demanding that he relax and allow the 
healing that they both needed, but Teal'c was not in the mood for Kel-
no-reem. Every time he tried to empty his mind the image of his friend 
filled it, filling him with deep remorse. He knew he had nothing to feel 
guilty about. He was only a Jaffa. He could not hope to defeat a planet. 
Kel-no-reem would give him balance - a more reasonable perspective. 

Teal'c had lost one of his best friends. She had literally slipped 
through his fingers. He didn't want to be reasonable, he wanted to be 
miserable. He felt a perverse jealousy toward the humans who could 
prolong the physical pain of grief for weeks or even years, seemingly 
without relief. 

He decided to go to the lounge down the corridor from his quarters. 
Perhaps if he imbibed enough coffee he could put off Kel-no-reem for a 
little longer. 

Teal'c reached a hand out to the nearest candle. Thumb and forefinger 
closed over the flame, snuffing it out. His hand froze in place over it. 
The smoke from its fragile wick ascended like an ephemeral body between 
his large fingers. Teal'c's jaw worked constantly as he stared. The 
planet had snuffed his friend's life as easily as he had suffocated the 
flame on the candle. 

Slowly, he pulled his hand away, his eyes, fixed on the wick. His lips 
began to tremble. He closed his eyes tightly and inclined his face 
toward the ceiling, straining hard to keep the wetness in his eyes from 
forming into tears. His jaw locked against the grief and rage he felt at 
his loss, until every muscle quivered from the effort and he finally lay 
back in a torpor. 

Teal'c was asleep before his head hit the floor, breathing the deep, 
harsh, shuddering breaths of grief-induced exhaustion. The larva within 
him got to work, releasing hormones and enzymes that would quickly re-
set its host's nervous system to normal. Within minutes Teal'c's 
features softened and his breathing became more regular. The other 
candles continued their flickering vigil around the sleeping Jaffa and 
the blackened wick of their extinguished sister. 

                         *******************

Lieutenant Colonel Luke Jones lay in the infirmary, a prisoner of Doctor 
Fraiser, who wanted to keep him there, "for observation." He had broken 
his collarbone and had gotten a concussion from a few nasty bumps on his 
head during his descent into the pit that had swallowed the Gate on P4N-
285, but that wasn't why he was here. 

God, he could use a drink! A lot of drinks. 

He looked over at the man sleeping in the bed next to him. While they 
were being lowered into the hole where the Gate was, a quake had caused 
Colonel O'Neill to lose his grip on the cable and he had fallen through 
the open wormhole. As well as some nasty looking bruises, he had 
wrenched his knee pretty badly in his spectacular entry into the SGC. 
But Luke knew Jack wasn't here just because of his knee. Both of them 
had lost their seconds in command, so Doc. Fraiser was keeping them here 
because she felt they were in shock. He swore inwardly. What the hell 
did she know about shock, anyway? 

O'Neill made a sound - a choking, gasping moan - and Luke knew what 
nightmare the man was reliving: the nightmare from which the sedatives 
forbade escape. He turned his head toward the ceiling, grimacing at the 
sour taste at the back of his throat. He didn't want a sedative, what he 
needed was some whiskey to knock back that taste, to knock back the 
memories. He groaned as those memories resurfaced....

Luke had stood on the topmost step of the Stargate and gazed out at the 
horizon, waiting for the sun to rise. P4N-285 had two suns and god knew 
how many moons. At the moment, no less than six moons were about to set, 
and at least three of them would be in conjunction, maybe more. Major 
Carter had told them earlier that this was a rare event, even for a 
galaxy as large as their Milky Way spiral. She had gone on about the 
moons being caught in a retrograde orbit and traveling around the planet 
counter to the usual east-west orbit. He hadn't understood a word, but 
she had been pretty excited about it. That night he had seen it for 
himself, and had felt like the luckiest man in the galaxy. He wished his 
wife, Arlene, could be here with him to see this. One day, he had vowed, 
if the Goa'uld threat was ever eliminated, if the Stargate ever became 
public knowledge, if he could survive long enough, he'd pull every 
string he could in order to bring her to this magical world. He sighed 
bitterly, wondering if he'd ever be able to see beauty in any sky again. 
	
All that night, from their place near the Stargate, Jones and his crew 
had watched the moons rise in a column over the western horizon and race 
each other across the sky, making spectacular eclipses as they passed 
each other. Then, with dawn just moments away and the moons prepared to 
set, one moon had made a total eclipse of two others, while three 
smaller satellites appeared to hang, suspended inside its huge circle. 
Jones had been delighted, thinking the best was yet to come: moons-set 
was about to meet sunrise. It had been beautiful, and awesome, and 
deadly....

"Fisk, you getting this?" Luke called, not wanting to take his eyes off 
the sight. 

"Yeah, I'm getting it all right," his second in command said, but if you 
wouldn't mind moving, Sir, I'd like to get a shot of this through the 
Stargate."

"Oh, yes Sir, Mister artsy-fartsy director, Sir," Jones teased. Pulling 
away from the stone ring, he had joined the rest of his team behind the 
camera-wielding Captain. "Watch your eyes, boys," he said, putting on 
his sunglasses. "Fisk, you got a solar filter on that camera?" Jones 
asked.

"Course, Sir," he answered distractedly. "Whoa! That's *un*believable!"

Jones whistled in appreciation. The flash of golden brilliance as the 
sun peeked over the horizon was enthralling. He had seen the day dawn on 
a good many planets during his time with SG-11, but none compared to 
this morning. He had to agree with Fisk; the Stargate was the perfect 
frame for this spectacle. He felt like the galaxy had just handed them a 
great gift. Then the galaxy dropped the other shoe. Hard.

It had started out like the rumble of thunder that got louder as it 
approached. In the bright light of the merging heavenly bodies, Jones 
saw the tall grass crest and fall like waves on a golden sea. A tingling 
that started in the ground ran up his body like a shiver, making the 
hairs rise at the back of his neck.

He and his men stood rooted to the spot as they watched the approaching 
groundswell. In its wake, sections of grass were thrown high into the 
air and fell back to ground, collapsing into newly formed holes. 

A new sound caught his attention. The Stargate. Earth was sending its 
first equipment-run of the day, right on schedule. Jones mouth dropped 
open in terror, his eyes went from the activating Gate to the rolling 
wave of the quake bearing down upon it. "Move out!" 

Fisk had just turned to run when the quake hit, smashing everybody onto 
the ground. The fifth chevron lit up on the Gate and the ground 
collapsed under the artifact's weight. As though caught in a drain, it 
spun round as it started to sink, tilting towards Fisk. The sixth 
chevron activated. Jones could only watch as the heavy naquadah ring 
slammed onto the hapless Captain and pulled him into its deadly downward 
pirouette. The seventh chevron lit. Quicksilver energy exploded outward 
and disintegrated the Captain's body, as well as a wide swath of grass 
and soil as the Gate sank. In a matter of seconds it was over. The quake 
rolled on, indifferent to its murderous wake. 

Luke sat bolt upright in his bed, gasping in panic, oblivious to the 
wrenching pain in his shoulder. He had to get out of here. 

"Sir?"

Had to get a drink. Had to forget....

"Sir? Doctor Fraiser, come quick!"

Luke became aware that someone had a firm hold on his good arm. He 
looked over to see Wayne Harris, watching him with concern. "Harris? 
Harris, ya look like hell. C'mon, let's get outta here." His voice 
sounded thick in own his ears. "Quick, 'fore the Doc, --"

"Sorry, Colonel, you're not going anywhere just yet," Doctor Fraiser 
said with authority. Harris, the traitor, helped her force him back down 
on the bed and he felt the prick of a hypo-spray against his neck. Luke 
sagged in defeat. There would be no escape, now. 

"Godammit, Doc," Luke growled. "I don't want to sleep." He turned his 
head toward Jack who was tossing and turning but unable to awaken. "I 
gotta get outta here, just need to forget for awhile, ss'all." He shook 
his head, keeping his gaze on Jack. "Don't...want...."

                         *******************

From his seat beside Jack's bed, Daniel watched Janet and Wayne exchange 
weary glances as the distraught man relaxed into sleep. "He's right, you 
know," Janet said. "You do look like hell." Wayne frowned. "Go to bed, 
Lieutenant."

He looked down at his commanding officer, his friend, and opened his 
mouth to protest. "If not in your quarters, then here." Janet gestured 
to the bed next to Jones. "He's not going anywhere for a while, 
Lieutenant," she assured him gently. "Sleep now, and be awake when he 
needs you."  

Wayne nodded his thanks and with a weary sigh, climbed onto the bed. 
"You too, Daniel," she said a little more sternly. 

"I will, I will." Daniel rose to his feet and approached the bed Janet 
had pointed out for him. With one last look at her patients, she turned 
and swiftly left the infirmary. 

Daniel hesitated at the bed, then, when she had left, he turned and 
followed her out of the room. It wasn't that he didn't need to sleep, he 
was exhausted, but he needed to talk more than to sleep right now. He'd 
hardly said a word since....

His mind refused to go there. It had not accepted what had happened, 
even though Daniel had seen it with his own eyes. Seen her....

He thrust his hands deep inside his pockets, clenching his fists. The 
action reminded him of how he and the others had held on to Teal'c and 
tried to keep him from going over the edge when....

And then, when Teal'c had lost it, they'd had to hold on to him even 
tighter. The guy was strong, and it had taken all their efforts to keep 
him from throwing himself into the hole after Sam. It wouldn't have done 
any good; Sam would still be dead and they'd have lost him too.

Daniel had reached the cafeteria, and he had to lean against the doorway 
as the realization sank in. There; his mind had finally thought it. Sam 
was lost to them. Sam was dead. 

He looked around the room. In the furthest corner Janet sat alone, 
huddled over a cup of coffee, holding her head in her hands. Daniel 
slipped quietly into the chair across the table from her. She kept her 
reproof at his disobedience to a knowing glare, then went back to 
staring into her cup. Neither spoke for some time, both lost in their 
own grief.

"This shouldn't have happened. It's too soon." 

Daniel looked up, bringing his exhausted eyes and mind back into focus 
with difficulty. Janet was still staring into her cup. 

"She wasn't supposed to die. Not so soon. Not until...until much later, 
you know? Years from now." Her voice rose an octave higher as she forced 
the words past the tightness in her throat. "She promised it would be 
years from now."

Daniel pulled his hands out of his pockets and put them on the table, 
slowly reaching toward her. If she saw the gesture, she didn't make a 
move to take the offered comfort. She tilted her head up to face him. "I 
always thought one of you guys.... But Sam, she wasn't supposed to."

"It's all right. I understand." Daniel said. He was unable to make any 
sense of her words, but he shared her disbelief. How could Sam be dead? 

"No," Janet shook her head emphatically. "It's *not* all right. You 
*don't* understand." She stared at him with a strange expression that 
made Daniel frown.

"I understand she was your friend. Sam was my friend too, --"

"No!" She dropped a hand onto his and clasped it tightly. "I mean she 
wasn't *supposed* to die. At least," she sniffed. "Not until Cassie was 
older. After that, well, all bets would be off, of course, but we're not 
there yet and I'm sure it hasn't happened because Cassie's not old 
enough to --"

"Janet!" Daniel's brain was too tired to make sense of her rambling. 
Gently he sandwiched her hand in both of his. "What are you talking 
about?"	

"About the future, of course," she snapped irritably.

Daniel stared at her, perplexed. Janet looked up at the ceiling, taking 
a deep breath as she tried to corral her thoughts and emotions. She 
looked back at Daniel. "A few months ago, Sam and I had a 
little...disagreement, over Cassandra's future. I didn't want Cassie 
anywhere near the Stargate program."

He looked at her in surprise. "You didn't?"

"I'm a doctor, Daniel. I know what working here does to people - in all 
its gory details. I don't want my daughter to get hurt." Daniel 
grimaced. He knew it was hard enough on Janet when her friends came back 
injured or, worse. He couldn't fault her for worrying about her 
daughter. 

"Sam was always encouraging Cassie to think about working here when she 
grew up. No matter what Cassie happened to be interested in, Sam would 
find some way to tie it into a career at the SGC."

Daniel smiled sadly. "Sam was always a bit... focused. She was happy 
here. She couldn't imagine anyone not being happy here."

Janet rolled her eyes in agreement. "Yeah, well, I got angry. I told her 
she had no business meddling in my daughter's future. She insisted she 
wasn't meddling, that Cassie's future was at the SGC."

Cassie's future. A spark of understanding lit in Daniel's eyes. Of 
course! He had forgotten all about that. "Sam told you about the 
future," he said, his voice incredulous. He couldn't believe it. Sam? 
"She told you about Cassie's future?"

Janet nodded. She glanced surreptitiously around the mostly empty room. 
"Sam confided in me, after she saw how...upset I had become." She smiled 
ruefully. "I even said I'd resign my post before I'd let my daughter 
work here." She kept her voice low. "So, Sam told me how you had once 
traveled to the future where Cassandra met you and sent you back to our 
time. The very old, and very alive Cassandra said that when she was old 
enough --"
	
"Sam would explain all this to her," Daniel finished, remembering their 
encounter with the white-haired woman who had been preparing all her 
life to send SG-1 back to their proper time. He bit his lip, not willing 
to acknowledge the surge of excitement that flashed within him. He shook 
his head. "Sam must have decided Cassie was old enough."

"No!" Janet answered with conviction. "She didn't. We agreed that Cassie 
was too young, and that I would be there when Sam and Cassie had that 
talk - years from now."  

Daniel stared past her a long moment as he pondered, the excitement 
mounting. "So, Sam's alive."

"Daniel, --"

"No. She's alive." Daniel set his jaw as he thought. "Somehow."

"She was buried alive, Daniel."

"She was alive when she was buried," he countered. He stood up, pulling 
Janet to her feet. "C'mon."

"Where are we going?" Janet protested.

"To take a quick course in unlikely geology," he answered.

                         *******************

George glowered at the three people sitting before him. "It's oh-three-
hundred hours people," he growled. "What is so important that it 
couldn't wait another four hours?"

"Yes, Sir" Daniel said apologetically. "We're sorry for the late hour, 
um, early.... But this couldn't wait. It's about Sam. We think she's 
still alive."

George blinked, and for an instant he wondered if he was dreaming. He 
shook his head as though to clear it. "Come again?"

"We've gone over the data again, Sir," Daniel began. The geology of P4N-
285 is unlike anything we've ever seen before. We have reason to believe 
that Sam could have survived being swallowed by the sinkhole.

George looked at the three doctors incredulously. "How?" Daniel nodded 
toward Doctor Ryder, encouraging her to explain. The geologist looked 
uncomfortable, and George realized that not everybody shared Doctor 
Jackson's convictions. 

"P4N-285 has a unique geology, Sir," the geologist said dutifully. She 
pushed a printout of a computer-generated image across the briefing room 
table. George picked it up and examined it as she spoke. The lines and 
cross-hatching on the paper showed a cross-section of the planet's 
crust. "These appear to be bands of regolith - mineral debris as the 
planet re-cycles itself. This regolith flow, for lack of a better term, 
consists of perfectly spherical pebbles that are extremely hard and 
smooth. It is a new mineral to us and we're still trying to understand 
its properties. We're theorizing that the energy field the stones create 
causes the stones to travel around the planet in currents. So far we 
haven't been able to figure out how the topsoil manages to remain intact 
above the flow."

George blinked again, debating that he could, in fact be dreaming. 
Doctor Ryder was not usually this talkative. She continued.

"We saw no debris whatsoever in the regolith. No sand or clay, no water 
or plant material. Consequently, it's relatively light and easy to 
penetrate, but the field it generates exerts an irresistible --" the 
woman stopped abruptly. She looked away, distraught.

George held up a hand, his tired and aggrieved mind trying hard to focus 
on what he was learning. "Which is why Major Carter was irretrievably 
buried." His words caused a coldness in the pit of his stomach. "All of 
you, together, couldn't pull her out of the sinkhole. So far, you 
haven't provided much of a case for proving she survived."

"General, the Stargate fell into a formation similar to a Karst cavern, 
here on Earth." Daniel explained. "It's a solution cavity formed below 
the Earth's surface when erosion dissolves water-soluble minerals in the 
more solid bedrock. The Gate on P4N was sitting on one of these Karst 
formations. The day before yesterday you opened the Gate several times 
and sent heavy excavation equipment through it. That would have caused a 
lot of vibrations through the ground, weakening the substructure under 
the Gate. When the quake hit--"

"The ground collapsed under the Gate. I read the report, Doctor. How 
does this relate to Major Carter?"

"The areas of exposed stones all share some rather unique similarities," 
Ryder answered. "They are all perfectly circular and are level with the 
surrounding topography. My theory is that over time something akin to a 
blister forms at the roof of some underground caverns. When these 
blisters break, the regolith falls through them. The flow continues 
until the cavity is completely filled."

George sighed. "So I take it you believe Major Carter got pulled into 
one of these underground caverns through a blister?"

Emma looked down, her face clearly disbelieving. "Yes," Daniel said with 
conviction.

George gazed at the younger man sympathetically. "That doesn't mean 
she's alive, son." 

"True," he answered slowly, carefully. "But, there's another factor that 
we haven't considered yet."

"And what is that, Doctor Jackson," George couldn't hide the impatience 
from his voice.

Daniel turned to Ryder as he spoke to the General. "Could, ah...Doctor 
Fraiser and I have a word with you in private, Sir?" 
	
George nodded to the geologist. "Thank you for the information, Doctor 
Ryder. Try to get some rest," he said by way of dismissal. Ryder 
furrowed her brow, plainly curious as to what "other factor" there could 
possibly be. Reluctantly, she stood up and left the room. When the door 
closed behind her, George turned to Daniel, waiting for him to proceed. 
Daniel sat up straighter in his chair. He glanced over at Janet, then at 
George. 

"P2X-555."

George sat back, totally surprised by this apparent tangent. He looked 
over at Doctor Fraiser who had been silent since the start of this 
discussion. His eyes narrowed. "What about it?"

"Sam hasn't told Cassandra yet."

George raised his chin as understanding registered. He looked directly 
at Janet as he continued to speak to Daniel. "And how do you know this?"

"I'm sorry, Sir," Daniel said quickly. "I let it slip." Janet shot him a 
startled look. "I was trying to think of any reason why Sam could still 
be alive and, Janet and I were talking about Cassandra and how she was 
gonna take the news and...."

"And so you told Doctor Fraiser." George glared at him. "Son, you know 
there are plenty of good reasons why you're not supposed to reveal 
classified information."

"I know, Sir, but --"

"Especially *this* kind of information," George exploded. He turned to 
Doctor Fraiser. "Exactly what do you know, Doctor?"

Janet sat up straight and met her commanding officer's glare steadily. 
"That the mission to P2X-555 did not go as planned. That instead of 
arriving on that planet, SG-1 were sent to the future where they met my 
daughter, here, at the SGC, alive and well. That Major Carter was to 
tell Cassie what to do when she was old enough to understand."

George worked his jaw a moment as he thought. "Maybe Major Carter 
already told her."

"No." Janet said, too quickly. "She didn't."

George's eyebrows shot up. "How do you know she didn't?"

Janet swallowed. She glanced at Daniel for help.

"Sam would have told us," Daniel interjected quickly. "I mean, me, or 
Jack, or you, definitely...you," he finished lamely. "Look, the point 
is," Daniel argued passionately, "We're here, in our time! Cassie sent 
us back. That means Sam has to be alive. Otherwise how is Sam going to 
tell Cassie what she has to do?"

George looked from one intense face to the other, knowing there was more 
to this than either was willing to reveal. He frowned and stood up, 
going to the window that looked down on the Stargate. He felt an 
unreasonable surge of hope.

Because of what had happened back in '69, a cocky, youthful George had 
taken a lot of risks, absolutely confident that his future had been 
mapped out for him. As he had matured and learned more about the 
subject, however, he had understood his foolhardiness. Time appeared to 
be malleable; the future, the present, even the past. Humans had no 
business mucking about with such things. That hadn't stopped him from 
doing a little mucking about of his own, though. He'd bent the rules 
wherever SG-1 was concerned, doing whatever it took to keep those four 
together long enough to fulfill their destiny, and his. He was still 
doing it; making allowances for his premier team was a habit hard to 
break.

He shook his head at the thought that Sam Carter, of all people, had 
discussed the timeline. He had no doubt that it was she. He smiled sadly 
at her friend's naive confidence, that they wanted to cover for her, 
more concerned that Sam would be in trouble for her indiscretion than 
that she could be dead. After a long moment George sighed. "Whether 
Major Carter is alive or not, I'm afraid rescue is impossible at this 
time." 

"What!?" the two people behind him exclaimed in unison.

"Even if Major Carter did survive, we have no way of getting help to 
her," he reasoned gruffly. "You know what the situation is with the 
Gate. You had enough trouble getting to it yourself. The Gate on P4N-285 
is on its back and as it is, we've got a team off-world re-opening it 
every hour on the hour, just to keep it cleared of rubble until we can 
devise a way to get it out of the hole." 

"We should tell the Tok'Ra," Daniel urged. "They could send a ship."

"I can't do that."

"General, if Major Carter is alive --"

"It's not my decision," he interrupted Janet. "The only reason we're 
trying to keep the Gate open on P4N-285 is because Washington still 
wants a shot at that ship."

"And they don't want to share it with the Tok'Ra," Daniel said bitterly. 
"They'd rather let Sam die than lose the ship."

"I understa--" 

"It's not like we're asking the Goa'uld, here. We're talking about the 
Tok'Ra. Last time I checked they were still our allies."

"Doctor Jackson, --"

"So, you're going to lie to her father, too? Tell Jacob his daughter 
died on...on what, some training mission?"

Janet took his arm. "Daniel!"

"That's the policy, isn't it? Lie to the family? You think that's going 
to work with Jacob? I thought he was your friend."

"Doctor Jackson!" George swung around. The grief and anger on his face 
stopped the younger man cold.

The two locked eyes, until Daniel finally looked away, ashamed. "I...I'm 
sorry," he murmured sincerely. "I.... General," he pleaded. "We can't 
just leave her there."

George sighed heavily. "I'm sorry too, son. But I can't go to the 
President with this. If you'll recall, we all agreed that even the 
President and Joint Chiefs not be informed about your trip to the past. 
If Major Carter is alive, and I'm not convinced that she is, then she's 
going to have to take care of herself for the time being." 

"Sir,--"

"Dismissed," he said, making it clear that the discussion was closed. 
Then his tone softened. "Get some sleep. I'll call a briefing as soon as 
Colonel O'Neill is released from the infirmary. We'll see what we can 
come up with."

Long after the others had left him, George remained at the window, 
staring out at the quiet Gate. Wide-awake, now, he let hope rise in him, 
despite what he had said. Was it possible? Could Sam Carter have beaten 
the odds yet again? "I hope to god your friends are right, Sam," he said 
softly. "But you're going to have to hang on. This could take awhile."	

                         *******************

"Chevron five, engaged," Sergeant Davis said.

For the past three days, ever since the two SG teams had returned minus 
their seconds in command, a team had been sent off world with no other 
mission than to keep the fallen Gate on P4N-285 cleared of rubble. They 
did that by establishing a wormhole to the Gate and keeping it open for 
thirty-eight minutes once every hour. This time, though, it was the SGC 
that was dialing P4N-285.  

Everett Siler sat at the UAV remote control station in the control room. 
A helicopter version of the UAV squatted on a platform in the Gate room, 
ready to embark on its maiden voyage through the Stargate. The 
helicopter had been outfitted with equipment that would activate the 
sensory instruments on the tethered balloon. It also had a ground-
penetrating infrared scanner. Everett would fly the Unmanned Airborne 
Vehicle via remote control, following the same route they had traversed 
on foot, three days earlier. Today, the scanner had only one purpose - 
to pick up a heat-signature: the Major's.

"Chevron six, engaged."

Everett turned on the UAV's internal systems and its electric engine. 
The propellers started spinning, picking up full rotational speed in 
seconds. The little 'copter rose from it's mooring and hovered patiently 
while, from his station, Everett activated the systems strapped to its 
underbelly. All systems looked good.

"Chevron seven, locked," Davis' even voice rang out.

Everett kept his eyes on the controls, working the joystick carefully, 
squeezing rather than pushing it, coaxing just a little movement from 
the 'copter as he aligned it with the cross-hairs on the screen. The 
rotating blades on the helicopter were only twenty centimeters shorter 
than the inside diameter of the Stargate. That didn't leave Everett with 
a lot of room to maneuver.

Slowly the 'copter climbed the ramp and hovered a moment, appearing to 
hesitate in front of the singularity as though in awe of it, just as 
every first-time traveler did. Then, as Everett adjusted its position, 
it slipped safely through the shimmering wall, and disappeared.

Sergeant Davis calmly began his countdown. "Object should reach 
destination in five, four...." Everett remembered to breathe. "Three, 
two, one."

Almost instantly an infrared image formed on the screen before him as 
the 'copter rose vertically from the fallen Gate on P4N-285, showing 
seven points of red on a black ring, encircling an even deeper shade of 
black - the wormhole. 

The 'copter shot upwards, wasting no time in clearing the hole. Stones 
were still falling into the pit and Everett didn't want to risk damaging 
his precious toy. "UAV's out of danger, Sirs," he reported.

"Let's have a look," the General commanded.

Everett lowered the 'copter back down to the mouth of the hole and 
switched on the digital camera attached to its front, tilting the lens 
to sweep the interior of the hole where the Gate lay. He was taken aback 
by how much the hole had changed.

The cavern the Gate had fallen into was enormous. SG teams one and 
eleven had had to rappel down forty meters from the surface to the 
cavern floor, and the cavern had extended into tunnels that went well 
beyond the reach of their powerful flashlights. Yet now, a mere three 
days later, the area surrounding the Gate was covered in small mountains 
of stone that reached almost halfway to the surface. Colonel O'Neill 
reached forward and tapped a finger onto the screen. "Zoom in here." 
Everett obliged, zooming in on a layer of substrata roughly five meters 
below the surface.  

"Well I'll be damned," the General exclaimed softly. Everett nodded, 
unable to tear his eyes from the image of the wall of moving stones. 
Colonel Jones had called it right; the stones did act like they were on 
a conveyor belt, converging on the hole from all sides, vibrating as 
they rolled against each other and then falling when they passed the 
threshold of solid ground at the lip of the hole.

The wall of moving stones was emptying itself into the cavity below at a 
rate that was, in geological terms, frighteningly fast. If it weren't 
for the fact that they were constantly re-opening the Gate, it would by 
now be irretrievable.

"Wormhole has been active for ninety seconds, Sir" Sergeant Davis 
reminded the General. The wormhole could only be kept open for thirty-
eight minutes, and they had a lot of ground to cover, so Hammond gave 
the command and Everett took the 'copter up and headed it toward the 
sunken ship. Within minutes the 'copter covered the same distance that 
had taken them hours to traverse on foot.

The room fell silent as all eyes searched the screen for the warm colors 
that would indicate Major Carter's presence. From its altitude, the 
'copter could cover a wide swath of land without sacrificing speed. 
Occasionally, tiny smudges of deep red color showed up on the infrared 
images, the little creatures indigenous to the planet, but nothing big 
enough to be a human, either above or below ground. "Not a trace." 
Doctor Jackson said in dismay. 

Everett frowned. What, really, were they expecting? Major Carter was 
dead. Even if her body were right under the scanner, it would not pick 
up a heat-signature. Not after three days.  

In good time the UAV arrived at its official destination. The orange 
blimp of the tethersonde came into view, still in the air, though it had 
lost altitude as the gas holding it aloft slowly ozmosed through its 
thin skin. 

The wreckage caused by the quake was as they had left it. Rodents 
scurried away from the pile of alien rubbish at the 'copter's approach. 
Everett noted with relief the flashing green light on the naquadah 
reactor he had set up three days ago to power the equipment. It was 
still functioning normally. 

"UAV has arrived at the site, Sirs," Everett said unnecessarily.

"Wormhole has been open for thirty-two minutes, nineteen seconds," Davis 
reported.

"Will you have time, Sergeant?"

"I will, Sir," Everett said, his voice confident. He set about remotely 
calibrating the signals on the tethered equipment with the instrument 
package lashed under the copter. The control room was silent as Everett 
worked, trying to get everything accomplished before the Gate shut down 
and he lost control of his craft. He would only get one shot at this. If 
he was unable to establish a link between the balloon and the MALP near 
the Gate, he would not be able to resume radio-control of the UAV when 
the Gate re-opened.

"Link established, Sirs," he said finally.

"Seventy seconds to shutdown."

"Get as much data as you can while the link is up, Sergeant," Hammond 
said to Davis. 

Everett set the instrument package down gently on the ground beside the 
naquadah reactor and released the clamps holding it to the 'copter, then 
he found a space to land the little UAV. He switched off the engine. Six 
seconds later, the Gate shut down. 

"Re-open the Gate to P4N-285." Hammond commanded. He turned to Everett. 
"Good work, Sergeant. Now, I don't suppose you have any ideas on how to 
get the Gate out of that hole?"

Everett shook his head. "Not yet, Sir, but we're working on it."

The General nodded. "Good. Keep me informed. Making the Gate passable is 
our top priority at this time." He watched as the General and O'Neill 
locked eyes. "I'll be damned if I let two fine officers die for nothing. 
We are going to get that ship."  

Colonel O'Neill's expression was wooden. He nodded once. Everett watched 
the exchange between the two officers: the deep regret in their eyes, as 
though an expectation had been dashed. General Hammond left the control 
room. 

Teal'c and Doctor Jackson closed ranks around the Colonel. "Okay, so 
what do we do now?" Doctor Jackson asked.

The Colonel looked at Everett. "Bring the 'copter back to base," he 
commanded quietly. "Let's work on getting that Gate up."

"Jack."

"Daniel!" The men stared at each other, locked in a wordless battle 
Everett had often witnessed between the two. It was a sure bet the 
Colonel would be winning this one. Colonel O'Neill's voice was gruff. 
"We have our orders."	

The wormhole re-established. Everett turned away from the battle of 
wills, back to his station. He re-activated the UAV, smiling broadly 
when the little craft responded immediately. As it rose into the air, he 
felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Head back in an arc," Colonel O'Neill said. "Let's cover some new 
ground, you know, follow the flow of the gravel."

Everett looked up at the Colonel. "I can't take her too far off course, 
Sir," he reminded him. "The UAV has to stay within range of the radio."

O'Neill nodded. "Just, take it out as far as you can, Sergeant."

Everett turned back to his console and, shaking his head once, he 
pointed the 'copter toward the south-east, turning the infrared scanner 
on once again in a futile search for something he knew could not be 
found.

It was true, SG-1 had gotten themselves out of some impossible 
situations in the past. He had learned from experience not to write any 
one of them off merely because the situation appeared hopeless. But this 
time....

"We're following a river, right?" Everett acknowledged Doctor Jackson's 
question with a nod.

"And the river runs by the ship, right?"

"One corner of the ship is partially submerged in it." Teal'c said.

"So?" Colonel O'Neill asked.

"So, Sam could've made it to the ship," Daniel surmised, his voice 
hopeful.

"Daniel, get real!" the Colonel snapped angrily. 

Everett couldn't believe what he was hearing. Doctor Jackson was in 
denial, big time. It wasn't like Everett didn't care that she had died, 
he had always liked the Major, had considered her a friend. They even 
shared a common interest outside of their work at the SGC: a passion for 
motorcycles. But he had been there when the planet had swallowed her up. 
She was gone.

"If you're thinking the Major may have ended up in the water and that it 
carried her to the ship, Doctor Jackson, I have to tell you that's very 
unlikely."

"Why?" Daniel asked, his tone challenging.

Everett persisted. "Even if she could have survived being buried and 
found a way into the same cavern this river is in, it would have been a 
long drop to the cavern floor. She probably wouldn't have survived the 
fall."

"But it is not impossible." Teal'c persisted.

"Ah, for cryin' out loud, Teal'c, not you, too," the Colonel muttered, 
clearly troubled by the conversation.

Against his better judgment, Everett pressed home his point. "Even if 
she could've survived the fall, that water's cold. She wouldn't have 
lasted for long in there, and the ship is about ten kliks from where 
she--" 

"Look, all of you, cut it out!" the Colonel ordered harshly.

Everett concentrated on his flying. Here's a novel idea, Siler, he 
thought to himself. Why don't you just shut up and do as you're told. 

The control room filled with an uncomfortable silence that accompanied 
the 'copter's uneventful trip back to the Gate. 

                         *******************

Daniel sat on the sidelines, watching Jack stare out the control-room 
window at the active Gate. The slump of his shoulders told Daniel that 
his friend was dying inside. Again. What little hope Daniel had managed 
to give him had evaporated with that lousy helicopter flight and Siler's 
dammed pessimism. The man hardly ever spoke at all. Why'd he have to 
pick today to be so talkative? Daniel frowned and shook his head. Where 
was Jack's eternal optimism? Where was the Jack who was so fond of 
saying: "We've been in situations way worse than this before." 

Jack never gave up. Why was he doing it now? C'mon, this was Sam! She 
could think her way out of anything. True, she was alone, this time, but 
just because she was on a different planet, didn't mean she was really 
alone. She'd only be alone if her friends gave up on her.

The helpless inactivity made Daniel restless. He agreed that securing 
the Gate was important, how else were they going to get Sam out of 
there? He just wished he could do something to put the hope back into 
Jack. 

He looked around the control room as though a solution could be hiding 
behind one of the computers. Many of the monitors showed progress bars 
as they downloaded information from the tethered balloon on P4N: 
monitoring equipment that would have recorded any developments from the 
sky or from underground. 

Underground? Daniel turned to Sergeant Davis. "I want to help," he said 
briskly. "Can I get a look at what's been downloaded so far?"

Walter Davis pointed to a computer console and said: "You can access the 
first data dump from there. I'll set it up for you." He typed in a 
command on his own keyboard. "It should be up now."

"Thanks," he said, and slid into the chair. "How do I see inside the 
ship?" he asked. He did not miss the knowing glances that Siler and 
Davis exchanged. 

"Use the function keys." Davis listed off the keys for the various 
information-gathering devices on the tethersonde. Daniel hit F5 for the 
infrared scanner on the tethersonde that was aimed at the ship. 

"How old is this information?"

"Eight hours, tops," Davis answered distractedly, busy with a dozen 
different tasks that suddenly demanded his attention. "There isn't 
enough memory in the camera to store more than that. Then it starts 
recording all over again in a loop." 

Daniel studied the screen. Sam was nowhere to be found between the 
sinkhole and the ship. That meant that if she was alive, she had to have 
gotten on board, somehow. His jaw clenched as he tried to block out what 
Sergeant Siler had told them. The rational side of him admitted that so 
many obstacles made her survival highly unlikely.

But, it was not impossible. 

Teal'c was right, Daniel thought. To hell with rational thinking. Where 
had that ever gotten them? What if Teal'c had done the rational thing on 
Chulak, and had remained loyal to his god and his way of life, rather 
than to side with three, unarmed prisoners from Earth? What if Daniel 
had been thinking rationally when the Gate had malfunctioned, marooning 
Sam and Jack in Antarctica? Had Sam been thinking rationally when she 
went back for Jack, alone, into Hathor's lair, even though she knew full 
well that he had a Goa'uld? Weren't those impossible situations? How was 
this any different?

Daniel clung to Teal'c's words as he scanned the exterior of the ship. 
All was as it had been the first time they had seen the image. The 
exterior gave off only the faintest traces of heat from whatever energy 
field surrounded it.

He switched to the ship's interior. The colors were warmer inside the 
ship, more orange than yellow. A little more orange than before, 
perhaps, or was that just wishful thinking? He cycled through the rooms 
on the vast ship, looking for a telltale smudge of dark red against 
ghostly white - a smudge that would indicate a warm, living being.	

Sam had to be alive. Teal'c and he willed her to be. And dammit, Jack, 
Daniel growled inwardly, what's wrong with you? Whatever happened to 
"where there's a will...there's a...there's a.... 

"Ohmygod!" Daniel froze, staring at the monitor in wide-eyed amazement. 
"Jaaack!" 

Before he got the word out Jack and Teal'c were by his side. There, 
moving about on the ship, was a dark-red smudge.

                         *******************

Teal'c! Oh god! Help me!
 
Entombed. No room to move, to breathe, to scream. Sam's every nerve and 
muscle convulsed with an energy suffocating for expression. Hard stone 
ground against soft flesh as the planet dragged her down, away from 
help. Out of reach.
 
Teal'c!  Don't leave me!  

He was just there, hanging over the edge of the hole, his large hand 
welded to hers. He looked so afraid, so helpless. 

Teal'c! Don't let go! 

Then he was gone. Sam couldn't see him, couldn't feel his hand, couldn't 
sense his symbiote.	

Oh god! Don't leave me, Teal'c, please!

The stones, like an unstoppable army of ants, carried their stricken 
burden deeper and deeper underground. Panic surged in Sam. It became her 
new champion. It shook her firmly, allowing no acceptance of the fact 
that she was drowning in stone. Her toes wriggled inside her boots, the 
only space that still allowed for movement. After an eternity, the 
pressure eased against her ankles. They jerked madly from side to side 
as Panic pressed them into the fight. Little by little, the planet lost 
its hold around her legs until her knees, and then her hips were free. 
She dangled over empty air, bucking and thrashing wildly. 

Sam dropped from her would be tomb, breaking her fall on a mountain of 
moving stones. She landed on her back, knocking the stale breath from 
her lungs, and sucked in fresh air in great, painful gasps. Stones 
poured from the hole and pelted her from overhead. She twisted onto her 
side in an effort to protect herself. The freshly fallen spheres fell 
away under her in an avalanche, pulling her down with it. She slid, 
tumbling end over end atop the stampede of stones, until empty air found 
her again.

A new sensation assaulted her: an icy, fluid silence held her in 
suspension as Sam hit the water, feet first. She floated downward, arms 
above her head, sinking like the stones that fell with her. One way or 
another, the planet seemed bent on drowning her.	 

The shock of the cold water was too much, and Sam's body shut down. 
Panic abandoned her, submitting itself to the voice inside her mind: 
"Relax now, it's over. It almost doesn't hurt anymore."

Sam knew a moment of languorous peace as a vision, like a waking dream, 
filled it. A sweet, soft voice sang with a purity that reminded Sam of 
the tinkling of little bells:

~~ To every thing, turn, turn, turn,
    There is a season, turn, turn, turn,
    And a time to every purpose under heaven.
    A time to be born, a time to die. ~~

A kitchen window with a white dentelle curtain. A sunbeam shone through 
the spaces in the dentelle, laying cutouts of shadow and light across 
her hands. Sam's hands plunged into a sink full of warm, soapy water and 
pulled a plate from it. One hand held a sponge and she swiped it over 
the plate, clearing away the suds and revealing the lovely blue-willow 
pattern beneath. Her mothe