"You seem kinda quiet, Chief," Jim observed, shifting uncomfortably in the tight confines of the Volvo as he watched his roommate warily. Blair hadn't said much at all since Simon had surprised him with the offer of a full time job if he attended some courses in the Academy, like weapons use and marksmanship.

Sandburg cut his friend a quick look and then returned his attention to the road. He'd just dropped Naomi off with her friend, Windchimes, and was headed home to the loft. "Yeah, guess I am," he murmured softly. "There're so many things to talk about, I guess I'm not really sure where to start."

"You don't seem too excited about being my permanent, and official, partner," Ellison said, his voice tight and defensive as he continued to stare at Blair, trying to read the lines in the pale face and the tension in his friend's muscles. Heartbeat was pretty normal - but Blair was wound tighter than a spring, and seemed infinitely weary. "I…we…thought you'd be happier about the idea."

Blair swallowed as he glanced up to the rearview mirror and then back at the street ahead. "Why would you think that, Jim?" he asked a little hoarsely. When Ellison just gaped at him in consternation, Blair gave him a hard fast look before turning his attention back to the traffic. "Seriously, man, why would you or Simon ever think I'd want to be a cop? I mean, it was a really generous offer, and it - it blew me away, to tell you the truth. I never expected that. Especially after the University kicked me out and no one there will even look at me, let alone speak to me, I sure never expected the law enforcement community to welcome me with open arms. But everyone there this afternoon seemed really happy about it all. I don't get it. You guys are all about honesty and trust. How could a self-confessed liar and fraud who betrayed his partner's trust ever succeed in that community? Ever be accepted?"

Jim turned away, hunching a little into himself as he crossed his arms and stared sightlessly at the passing street. "Well, you've been a fixture there for almost four years, and you've done a good job. Nobody in MCU thinks you're dishonest…"

"No? Then you've got a problem, Jim," Blair replied darkly as he pulled into his parking spot outside the loft. Turning off the ignition, he turned to face his best friend. "If I'm not a fraud, then the diss was true and that makes you a Sentinel - just exactly what you didn't want anyone to suspect or know for a fact. Something you don't want to be, have never really wanted to be. Sure, Simon and Megan know, and it looks like the others have figured it out for themselves, but if I keep working with you then the whole PD will realize something's fishy, and it won't be long before the media get a whiff of it, too. How long would your secret last then?"

"Well, I…" Jim began, but faltered, not having really thought about the implications.

"Uh huh," Sandburg drawled, reading his Sentinel as well as he ever had and knowing that while Jim had had the best of intentions, he hadn't really considered the downsides. "I can't be your partner, Jim," Blair said then, gently. "It's over, man. Just the way you said you wanted it to be the other day, remember? You said you wanted to go back to the way things were before. Wanted to turn your senses off. And you wanted me to accept that it was over and time to let go."

"I was angry," Jim muttered as he looked away.

"You were scared," Blair countered. But he reached out to pat Ellison's arm lightly as he said, "And I don't blame you. You had every right to be." Turning away to open the car door, he added, "But, regardless, I don't think I'd make a very good cop."

"Why not? You've been doing most of the job for years now," Jim countered, and then shifted to open his own door as Blair climbed out of the car. Sandburg jogged around the vehicle to help Jim get out of the low-slung vehicle, conscious of his friend's bad leg.

As he steadied Jim, and reached inside to retrieve Ellison's cane before closing and locking the car door, Blair replied, "Yeah, I know…the research stuff, and the analysis, that I can do. And I have to admit, I've loved every minute of working with you, but how could I testify in court? My credibility is blown, man. And I'm not really sure I want to carry a gun, let alone be ready to use it. Oh, I know I've held weapons before, even shot them in emergencies, but I don't know - being a cop hasn't been my life's dream, you know?"

Blair pulled Ellison's carryall from the trunk, only too aware that his best friend had only just been discharged from the hospital, and was looking wan with pain darkening his eyes and lining his mouth. "Here, lean on me," he offered, as they made their way to the entrance.

"I'm fine," Jim replied tightly as he limped ahead, stubbornly self-sufficient, though he leaned heavily on his cane.

Blair sighed and shook his head. "Yeah, I guess you are," he muttered as he sprinted ahead to unlock the door and hold it open for Ellison.

Silently, they made their way to the elevator and then to the apartment. Once inside, Jim hobbled to the refrigerator while Blair dumped Ellison's bag and his own backpack on the floor and pulled off his coat to hang it on a hook.

"Want a beer?" Jim asked.

"Sure," Blair replied as he crossed the floor to divest Jim of his coat. Taking it and the proffered beer, he hung up the garment before turning to the living room. Jim had settled in his favourite chair and Sandburg dropped into his usual place on the sofa.

Ellison was frowning as he sipped from the bottle. Lowering it, he pinned Sandburg with a worried look as he asked, "If you don't go to the Academy, what will you do?"

Chuckling without humour, sounding edgy, Blair replied, "I can understand why you'd wonder about that, given how things have turned out. But, oddly enough, I've actually been offered a pretty good job."

"What job?" Jim asked, surprised and then ashamed of himself. He'd been thinking of Blair as a victim, vulnerable and a little helpless, and he realized he should have known better. The kid had taken care of himself for his whole life. But that didn't mean it was a decent job, one worthy of him - Sandburg had done everything from driving a truck to working on the docks to construction work to being an orderly in a hospital to pay his way at school. Honest work, sure, but nothing that used his amazing brain.

"Well, I've blown away my PhD, but my Master's Degree is still good for something," Blair replied as he studied the coffee table. "An old friend has been trying for a couple of years now to talk me into joining a project he's working on - a kind of longitudinal study of how ancient myth and legend impacts on communities today, influencing their choices and actions. It sounds pretty intriguing. Anyway, I've always turned him down before, but when he called again yesterday, I accepted." Looking back at Jim, he cleared his throat and then continued steadily, "It's not in Cascade, though. It's in Colorado…"

"Colorado?" Ellison echoed, looking like he'd just been sandbagged. "You're moving away?"

"Yeah," Blair sighed, but then his jaw tightened as he continued, "Jim, I really think we need a break from one another. I mean, you did say you wanted it all to be over, and that you wanted to go back to the way things were before. It's not the first time that you've signaled how much you resent your senses and hate being a Sentinel. And if I stay, well, people will always wonder why you'd keep putting up with me…"

"Maybe because we're friends," Ellison snapped, hurt that Blair had evidently made his decision without discussing it first. "At least, I thought we were friends."

"We are, man," Sandburg replied wearily as he pushed his hair back off his forehead. Leaning forward, he cajoled, "But you have to see that this is best for you right now. It's not like you really need my help anymore. You don't zone and you've got really good control of your senses. Or, if you want, you could just turn them way down…or off. Incacha said a Sentinel has to choose to be what he is - but you've never really felt you had any choice. You said you just want to be a normal cop, to do your job and be left alone. As much as I really hate to say it, maybe it's time for that choice, Jim. And, regardless, you really can't afford to have me hanging around, not if you want your secret to remain secure. Man, as far as the world is concerned, you should hate the sight of me."

Jim looked away as he took another sip of his beer. Everything Blair was saying made sense, and yet it felt wrong. It didn't help that Sandburg kept throwing his own words back at him, either. "I can't believe you'd just up and move out without ever discussing it with me," he said bleakly.

"Well, I'm not moving out, exactly, not unless you want me to put all my stuff in storage," Blair replied. "I kinda hoped that wouldn't be necessary. I'd like to keep thinking about this place as my home, for a while, anyway."

"It is your home," Jim said firmly. "Make no mistake about that."

"Thanks, I appreciate that," Blair sighed. "This job, well, I guess it's supposed to be permanent, but if things cool down here, maybe someday I could come back. I'm still hoping to finish my PhD, maybe use the stuff on the closed society. Maybe Cascade PD will consider hiring a forensic anthropologist - some of the other big cities are doing that. But, well, maybe you'll find that you won't really want me back as your partner - if you turn off your senses, it's not like you'd need me anymore or even need me now, for that matter…"

"You don't have to leave," Jim cut in, realizing that Sandburg really didn't want to leave but simply felt he had no choice. As he'd felt he had no choice but to deny the validity of his paper.

Swallowing, Blair looked up to meet Jim's eyes, and Ellison felt sick at the depths of sorrow he saw darkening the normally bright blue gaze. "Yeah, I do have to leave, Jim," Sandburg said hopelessly. "For all kinds of different reasons, I really do have to go away, at least for a while. You know it as well as I do."

"When?" Ellison asked.

"I'm catching the flight tomorrow morning to Denver. My friend, Daniel Jackson, is picking me up at the airport and I'll be crashing at his place in Colorado Springs until I find an apartment," Sandburg replied sadly. As if realizing how weary he sounded, Blair made an effort to invest some energy and enthusiasm into his voice as he continued, "It sounds like a really interesting project, and it fits with my skills and education…"

"Has your friend seen the press conference footage on the news?" Jim asked then, hating himself for even raising such a painful subject. But if Sandburg thought it killed his credibility, why then was this Daniel Jackson still offering him a job?

Blair winced but nodded. "Yeah, he called me right after it aired nationally. Said he didn't know and didn't need to know the whole story, but that unless I'd been taken over by aliens, he wouldn't ever believe that I'd lie about something so important. When I started to, well, obfuscate, he just cut me off, saying again he didn't need to know the details and that he respected my effort to protect my sources, but it didn't make any difference to his belief in me. And that was it. I guess, well, up until yesterday, you and Naomi were the only people who were still talking to me. I gotta tell you, I really appreciated his continued confidence and trust…"

Though Blair had spoken softly, with no note of recrimination in his voice, Jim felt the words land like blows. Looking away, he thought about how much Blair had given up for him, not just his paper and his PhD, as significant as that was, but his whole identity as an ethical man, and he'd suffered for it. More than Jim had realized while he was in the hospital, because Blair hadn't let on that he was being shunned and treated as a pariah. No wonder the kid felt he had to get away, and had grabbed onto this offer like a kind of lifeline. The sheer fact that someone still believed in him, regardless of the press conference, had to have been a much-needed balm to his aching soul. Swallowing, infinitely sorry, Jim realized his own words during the debacle hadn't helped, and that he and Simon had waited too long to offer an option for the future.

"Colorado Springs seems an odd place for the kind of project you described," Jim observed then with a frown. He knew there was a military installation in Cheyenne Mountain, but couldn't recall if there was a university in the community, other than the Air Force Academy.

"I guess it's just the headquarters," Blair answered with a shrug. "Daniel said there's a lot of field work, and that I could be away for weeks, maybe even months, at a time."

Jim boggled a little at the 'months', but didn't say anything. Blair had given up so much for him, had turned down other field work projects that were important for his own career, so he didn't really feel he had the right to challenge it further. Months. God. "You'll stay in touch, though, right?" Jim finally asked.

"As much as I can, but it can be difficult from field locations, depending on how remote they are," Sandburg sighed. Shifting, he stood as he said, "I've really got to finish packing. What do you say we order in some pizza or Chinese later? I really don't feel like going out tonight…"

"Sure, whatever you want, Chief," Jim answered evenly. But inside, he was talking about more than dinner. For years, Blair had accommodated him. And last week, Sandburg had destroyed his dreams for him. So what if Jim wanted to rage that he didn't want Blair to go, certainly not for months that could too easily turn into forever? He didn't have the right to make demands anymore. He'd relinquished those rights a little at a time over the past few months, first over being so defensive about the dissertation chapter, then with his bizarre behaviours over Alex Barnes - and most recently by being so quick to assume the worst when the paper got leaked. This Daniel Jackson hadn't assumed the worst of Blair - Jackson had continued to believe in him, regardless of the national media coverage and Sandburg's own words; had instinctively known there was more to the story because he trusted Blair.

Jim watched Blair walk to his room, and then began to pick at the label on his bottle. He'd given up the right to challenge this decision when he'd assumed the worst and then hadn't done anything about it when Blair had trashed his own credibility. The Sentinel had failed his Guide, had allowed him to be wounded and ostracized by his own people. So, for now, he had to respect his Guide's decision to leave, to find a place to be himself, to do work he was trained to do and loved to do.

Sighing, Jim leaned his head back against the chair and rubbed his eyes as he struggled for calm. Sandburg was right; part of him did want, very badly, to be able to go back to the way things had been before. But part of him wondered if it were even possible, and if he could function without Sandburg there to back him up. All he knew was, deep down, he didn't really want to find out. Sandburg was the best friend he'd ever had and Ellison felt suddenly very bereft at the thought that the kid was leaving, maybe for a very long time.

Maybe for good.

It just felt so wrong.

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

Blair kept a tight rein on his emotions as he sorted out his clothes and stuffed them into his bags. He tried really hard not to think about how much he'd hoped Jim would fight him on this decision, would insist that he couldn't just up and leave. But he had to have work. There were so many debts to be paid - his student loans, the repayment of grant money - his first priority had to be to get a decent job or he'd have to declare personal bankruptcy. To be offered a well paying position that required extensive fieldwork, so that he wouldn't have to also pay rent someplace, was better than he'd dared hope for.

So what if he didn't really want to go? There really wasn't any choice, not anymore. He'd never get work in Cascade, not after the press coverage. And, despite Simon's offer, Sandburg knew he couldn't keep working with Jim, not without compromising his Sentinel's secret, and he didn't have the right to do that. More, he didn't want to risk Jim's well-being if the truth ever came out. So, he had to go away. And, besides, it was what Jim wanted, whether he'd admit it now or not. He'd been very clear about how he felt just a few days ago. Jim would be okay - he didn't really need help anymore, hadn't needed it for some time. So, leaving to give them both space and time to get on with their lives was the right thing to do.

But if it was the right thing, the only thing, to do…why did it feel so wrong?

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

The packing done, Blair filled his time with tidying up the small room, aligning books in the bookcase, and ensuring everything that Jim might need was sorted into a box he planned to leave under the bed. Once that was done, he sat quietly on the edge of the futon, thinking about the years he'd happily spent in this apartment and wishing he wasn't about to leave the only place he'd ever called 'home'. But those thoughts were dragging him down into a well of despair he couldn't afford to lose himself in, so he had just stood to go back out into the main living area when the pizza arrived.

Jim hobbled to the door to pay for it and then carried it to the table while Blair got plates, paper napkins and two more beers from the fridge. Sitting down across from one another, both men kept their attention focused on the food and the business of eating, both lost for words.

When the silence became oppressive, Blair gave himself a shake and said, "I've left all my notes and cassettes and the only hardcopy of my paper for you in a box under the bed…"

"Thanks," Jim replied quietly, though he kept his head down.

"I'll leave Daniel's number by the phone in case you need to reach me," Sandburg continued, only to stop when Jim stiffened and his head turned toward the door.

"Somebody's coming," the Sentinel said.

"Probably just Kenny Mitchell, the guy who bought my car. He said he'd come by for the keys and registration this evening," Sandburg explained as he went to the door, opening it before Mitchell had a chance to knock. Blair had to suppress a reflexive grin. He'd always wanted to do that, but it was usually Jim who opened the door, startling the visitor who hadn't had a chance to knock. With little ceremony, he handed over the keys and registration in return for a cheque, and the Volvo's new owner left to take possession of his new car.

When Sandburg closed the door and turned around, stuffing the cheque in his shirt pocket, he found Jim staring at him bleakly. "What?" he asked.

"You said you'd be back," Jim accused. "So why did you sell your car?"

"Ah, Jim," Sandburg sighed as he moved back to the table. "I would have driven it to Colorado if Daniel hadn't stressed how quickly he wanted me there and arranged the air ticket. There's no point in it sitting around here getting rusty. I need the money, man…"

Jim blinked at that. He hadn't considered the financial pressures Sandburg must be facing now that his academic career was over. "How bad is it?" he asked, frowning in concern.

"Bad enough," Blair replied hollowly. "The loans come due as soon as a person leaves school. I've arranged a payment schedule I can manage, but I really need the job to start paying them back. And, uh, well, my last grant was forfeit, so I had to take out a loan to repay what I'd used of it. Again, the job was critical to being able to get credit."

"Can I help?" Ellison asked tentatively. He knew how independent Blair was, but Jim hated to think about more pressure that the kid really didn't need.

"Thanks, but I think I can manage," Blair sighed as he sat back down and took a sip of beer.

Ellison pondered the new information and then looked up, a spark of hope in his eyes that had been lacking moments before. "So, uh, you didn't accept this job to get away from me," he ventured.

Blair gaped at his best friend. With a slight smile of understanding, feeling warmed by Jim's concern for him and fear that somehow he just didn't want to be around Jim anymore, he replied gently, "Well, yeah, I am leaving mostly to get away from you, but not because that's what I want. Jim, if I stay now, people will wonder why you tolerate having me around, and that will just lead to questions you don't need. I wish I could stay, but I have to go to protect you - just like I had to deny the paper, to protect my source. It's an ethical issue, Jim, a professional responsibility. But I wouldn't go so far unless I was positive that you could manage without me - and, yeah, I also really need the income. This job pays a really good salary."

Ellison nodded, his throat suddenly tight, too tight to eat so he pushed his plate away. Rubbing his sore leg absently, he thought about how Blair had been protecting him since the first day they had met.

"Dial it down, Jim," Sandburg murmured.

"Huh? What?" Jim stammered, his thoughts having been far away.

"Your leg. Dial it down."

"Oh, right," Jim acknowledged with a sharp nod as he closed his eyes and focused on the dials Blair had shown him were there. When the pain receded, he looked back at Sandburg as he said, "I'm going to miss you."

"Yeah, like you'd miss a sore tooth," Blair quipped with a grin. "You'll hate the peace and quiet, and the lack of chaos in your home. And I'm sure you'll really miss having to explain why you've got this weird hippie tagging along with you at work. Face it, Jim - you're going to love having your space back. But don't get too used to it, because I do plan to come back at least to check on you from time to time."

Ellison looked around the loft as he mumbled, "It won't be the same."

Blair's attempt at humour fizzled away, more than he could sustain in his own grief. "I'll miss you, too," he admitted softly as he stood to clear the table.

They spent the evening reminiscing until it was time to retire, and found a certain solace in their mutual joy and laughter at some of the more ridiculous memories. They weren't parting in anger or indifference, but in friendship, and that meant a great deal to both of them.

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

The next morning, Blair was up early to make breakfast before his cab came. Jim had wanted to drive him to the airport, but Sandburg refused, citing Ellison's bad leg and the need for him to take it easy. Besides, Sandburg figured that neither of them could handle a protracted 'good bye'. He'd done the grocery shopping the day before so he knew Jim had enough supplies to see him through his week of recuperation.

"I'll explain to Simon," Jim offered over breakfast.

"No, that's all right," Blair responded, trying to sound matter-of-fact. "I plan to call him from Colorado Springs, to thank him and, well, to let him know where to reach me if it's ever necessary. Though I'm sure it won't be - you'll be fine."

Before Ellison could reply, the cab's horn sounded from the street below the balcony, and Blair stood to put on his coat. Jim followed him to the door, feeling as if this moment had come too soon, and that there was still so much that needed to be said - but his throat was once again too tight, and he couldn't find all the words.

Blair opened his arms and Jim grabbed him in a tight hug. "I'm sorry, so sorry," Jim stammered, his voice thick with emotion. "You've lost everything because of me…"

"Ah, Jim, don't be sorry, man," Blair whispered back. Standing away, though he kept a tight grip on Ellison's arms, he looked up at the older man, his eyes shining with sincerity as he said with the strength of utter conviction, "I'm not sorry, not one bit, for having met you. Jim, my whole life I dreamed of finding a Sentinel - and you made all my dreams come true. More, you're the best friend I've ever had. Nothing happens in this Universe without a reason, Jim. Nothing. So, it must have been time for us to find our own way again independently. But our friendship is not over - will never be over. You mean way too much to me for me to ever forget you or ever stop being glad to have been a part of your life. I didn't lose, or give up, anything that mattered anymore to me - believe that. And don't imagine this isn't some kind of final farewell - we'll see each other again. This is my home, I know that, whether I'm here or not - where you are will always be my home."

The horn sounded again. It was time to go. Blair squeezed Jim's arms and then let his hands fall away as he bent to lift his backpack over his shoulder and to pick up the duffel bag. "Don't do anything stupid, okay? Don't use only one sense at a time. Stay off your leg until it's better. If you ever need help, call me or let Simon or Megan help you," he directed soberly, before adding with visible reluctance, "Well, I guess I have to go."

And then, utterly unable to choke out the word, 'good-bye', he turned and quickly left the apartment, looking back to wave at Jim - who was standing in the open doorway - before disappearing down the stairs.

Jim closed the door and hobbled as rapidly as he could to the balcony, waving when Blair looked up a last time before getting into the cab. With his sentinel sight, he could see the brightness of unshed tears in his Guide's eyes and, with his hearing, he could hear Blair's whisper, "I love you, my brother. I always will."

As the cab pulled away, Jim murmured hoarsely, "I love you, too, Chief."

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

Blair moved with the rest of the passengers as they collectively followed the signs to retrieve their baggage. As he stepped onto the escalator to descend to the arrivals' level, he scanned the crowd, looking for his friend, Daniel Jackson. Instead he saw, with no little surprise and a sudden shaft of trepidation, a sign with his name on it, held by two men in Air Force uniforms. Frowning with uncertainty, he approached the airmen who had begun to move through the crowd toward him, as if they recognized him. "I'm Blair Sandburg," he introduced himself, confusion in his eyes. "Where's Daniel Jackson?"

"Mr. Sandburg, we're pleased to meet you, sir. I'm Sgt. Wilkins and this is Corporal Myers. Dr. Jackson was detained at the project, and asked that we meet you. The baggage carrousel is this way," the tall, black airman told him as he gestured toward the moving belt.

"Oh, okay," Sandburg acknowledged with a nod as he turned to get his duffel bag. Well, this was weird. What could Daniel have to do with the military? A hard ball of anxiety began to grow in his gut, getting colder and larger as he followed the airmen from the airport and got into the back of an official vehicle. This didn't make any sense.

Sgt. Wilkins turned to look back over the seat as he said, "I know you'll be staying with Dr. Jackson, but you'll also have accommodation at the project. With your permission, we'll head straight there."

"Yeah, sure," Sandburg shrugged. There wasn't a whole lot of choice since he didn't have a key to Daniel's apartment. Besides, the sooner he found out what was going on, the better.

They drove away from the big city, driving some distance in silence along the highway heading toward Colorado Springs, but turned off before getting there, onto a switchback road that wound up the mountainside. Blair swallowed as they climbed higher into the wilderness, and tried to remain calm as he watched the forest flash past. But the sight of the wire mesh electrified fence and manned gate at their destination didn't help his confidence any and, when they drove into the mountain itself, he tried not to allow his feelings of paranoia to overwhelm him. 'Daniel's a good friend,' he told himself firmly. 'He wouldn't set me up to get at Jim. He just wouldn't.'

But no matter how hard he tried to convince himself there was nothing to worry about, Sandburg was very afraid that somehow the military was going to use him to lure his Sentinel into danger. Damn that paper, and damn Syd Graham, and damn the media for printing details. And he damned himself for a fool, for believing that everyone would accept his denials. 'Cause he sure couldn't imagine why the Air Force would be taking him to work on a project inside a mountain unless it had something to do with Jim. Well, he'd lie and bluff and talk his way out - and if they wouldn't let him go, he'd just clam up and not say anything at all. How bad could it be? He really didn't think they'd torture him; that was a little too melodramatic even for his well-developed imagination. 'What the hell,' he thought ironically with a trace of black humour he recognized as false bravado to offset his rising anxiety, 'at least it'll be free room and board.'

Finally, the car stopped and he was escorted through another checkpoint before being led to an elevator. Sandburg moved stiffly, wondering if he should try to make a break for it, but knowing it was a hopeless thought. There were too many soldiers around for him to escape. If this was a trap, it had been quickly executed. He should never have identified himself to the soldiers at the airport, but even as he'd approached them, he'd realized that they had also been moving toward him. They'd known what he looked like and had recognized him. Even then, he couldn't have escaped. What the hell was going on?

The airmen led him to a small and utilitarian, but comfortably furnished, bedroom where he could leave his bags, and then led him back to the elevator. They remained courteous and deferential, giving no hint of any form of intimidation beyond the fact of having brought him into a maze of concrete corridors that he couldn't easily escape from. "What's this project about?" Blair ventured as he watched the indicator numbers flash downward, his voice tight with the strain of his effort to retain some vestige of calm.

"It's best if Dr. Jackson and the General explain it, sir," Sgt. Wilkins replied neutrally.

The door opened and Blair was led down another hall and around a corner. The sergeant knocked on a door and then pushed it open. "Mr. Sandburg has arrived, General," he said.

"Thank you, Sergeant, please show him in," came a voice that was warm and welcoming, confounding Blair further. 'Maybe they plan to confuse me with courtesy and kill me with kindness,' he thought ruefully.

The airman stepped aside and Blair entered the room, pausing when he saw Daniel Jackson coming toward him from a conference table, around which were two men and a woman in Air force uniforms, and another large black man in fatigues. They all stood to greet him, and they were all smiling in courteous, if not exceptionally warm, welcome - well, except for the big black guy with the odd gold tattoo on his forehead who had all the expression of a very impressive, if somewhat intimidating, statue.

"Blair!" Daniel called out, his smile broadening with apparently completely sincere warmth and enthusiasm, "I'm so glad to see you. Welcome! Here, let me introduce you to everyone."

Sandburg found himself being moved around the room, to shake everyone's hand in turn. "This is General George Hammond, our boss. And this is Colonel Jack O'Neill, who heads up our team. Major Samantha Carter," and she interjected to offer, "Just call me Sam." "And this is Teal'c." Teal'c did not shake his hand, but lowered his eyes and inclined his head in formal welcome as he rumbled, "A pleasure to meet you, BlairSandburg."

"Uh, you, too," Blair mumbled uncertainly, feeling more and more disoriented. Turning to Jackson, he asked with a voice that quavered just a little, "Daniel, what's going on?"

Jackson waved him to a chair and then sat down beside him as he said, "I'm sorry I couldn't give you more information before you got here, Blair, but you have just joined the most exciting project on Earth. There's a ton of work, and we need your expert help. I have to tell you, I'm really glad you're here."

"Help to do what, exactly?" Sandburg pressed as he looked around at the others in the room.

"Dr. Jackson, if I may?" General Hammond cut in.

"Of course, General," Daniel deferred agreeably.

"Mr. Sandburg," the General began, "you have been recruited to work on the Stargate project. This is a highly classified, very secret project, to make contact with and study the civilizations on other planets."

"Stargate?" Sandburg echoed as he blinked in surprise. "Other planets?" Swallowing, he turned back to Daniel, an uncertain and tentative smile broadening into brilliant excitement as he put the pieces together and comprehension dawned. "Your theories were right, weren't they?" he exclaimed with exuberant wonder and more than a little awe. "The pyramids were built by aliens…"

"Uh huh," Daniel drawled as he smiled back, his eyes dancing. "And we've found a way to open wormholes in space that allow us to travel to other planets all over the galaxy in seconds."

"You're kidding," Blair breathed, astonished. "You're not kidding," he added when Daniel just shook his head. "Oh my God."

"Mr. Sandburg, you will be an adjunct to the SG1 team, led by Colonel O'Neill," General Hammond continued briskly, though his tone remained warm and friendly, and he smiled slightly in response to Sandburg's evident enthusiasm and very quick adaptation to the extraordinary. "Your overall role will be to follow up on first contact when we encounter civilizations that require more time and study to understand them in order for us to reach agreements on mutual benefit treaties. There is much we have to learn from other civilizations, and much we can share in return. But Dr. Jackson has taught us well about the risks of just barging in, in terms of how we might inadvertently damage another society without understanding how we've impacted upon them. Though Dr. Jackson has worked miracles of communication and understanding with virtually all of the societies we've encountered for some time now, he's stressed how much we need someone who is specially trained in observing other cultures on particularly sensitive missions. Dr. Jackson has assured us that you are the man we need."

"Well, it's not like Sandburg here had a lot of other choices, is it?" Jack O'Neill intervened dryly. Though he'd agreed to bring in this new guy on Daniel's strong recommendation, Jack wasn't all that thrilled about another egghead joining the team. And this guy looked particularly undisciplined, not to mention very, very young for all that his file said he was almost thirty years old.

"Sir!" Sam Carter remonstrated, her tone clearly indicating her discomfort with his words and manner.

"No offence, Sandburg," O'Neill added with a wry grin. "With apologies to my colleagues, we're all misfits of a sort. It's just that your press conference pretty much destroyed any hope you might have had for a career in academia, right?"

"Uh, right," Blair conceded, his defences again rising. "If you know about that, then I'm surprised you'd trust me with this information."

"Relax, Blair," Daniel murmured with a quelling look at Jack. "Nobody believes that press conference. Like I told you on the phone, I know you. No way would you misrepresent your work, or outright lie, unless it was to protect your sources. You found your Sentinel, didn't you?"

"Look, maybe this was a big mistake," Sandburg replied, his gaze dropping away from Daniel's too discerning eyes. He began to rise, though he wondered where he would go and how he'd get out of the secure complex.

"It's all right, Mr. Sandburg," General Hammond soothed, astutely reading Blair's behaviours and appreciating his continued loyalty to the police detective he'd been studying. Though it was evident that Sandburg had been greatly excited by the prospect of what his job would entail, it was equally clear to the General that he would walk away before he would violate a trust. As he had, evidently, walked away from his career and sacrificed his own personal credibility to protect his Sentinel. It seemed, as Daniel had assured them, that he was, indeed, a truly ethical man. Well pleased, Hammond hastened to reassure Sandburg, who was looking at him warily. "We are interested in your knowledge of sentinels, not in the sentinel himself," he said firmly. Leaning forward, he continued, "We believe we have found a civilization in which many of the members have enhanced sensory capacity. Further, we have seen evidence that suggests that others may well exist on several of the worlds that we've visited. We need someone with your knowledge and skills to make sense of what we've found, both in terms of sentinels specifically, and more broadly in an anthropological context. On Dr. Jackson's strong recommendation, we accessed your records and publications and what we saw convinced us that he was right. While I won't deny that I would welcome someone with Detective Ellison's capabilities on my team, you were the one we most wanted to recruit."

"You're a genius," Sam interjected enthusiastically. "Your work, even as an undergrad, was brilliant. You seem to intuitively grasp the subtleties and nuances of other cultures, illuminating key elements that help others to understand and value them as well. Your, uh, eclectic upbringing has made you unusually non-defensive and open to new experiences and different belief systems. I know the disaster around your dissertation must have been very hard on you, but it was the opportunity we needed to offer you this job. And not a moment too soon."

Blair pushed his fingers through his unruly hair, shoving it back behind his ears, nodding slowly as he tried to absorb the mind-blowing information, but mostly he just felt vastly relieved that no one here seemed to be any threat to Jim. They had found a way to travel, in seconds, to other worlds. It was incredible! And they wanted him to be part of the adventure. It was all very hard to take in, but then, no one had believed sentinels could really exist either. The Universe was a very big place, and it had always only ever made sense to him that other worlds and beings could exist - it was the thought of the only sentient life in all of creation existing in splendid isolation, solely on a single, relatively insignificant planet, that made him quaver with disquiet. So, years back when he and Daniel had first met on a dig in Egypt, he'd actively encouraged Jackson's theories, as Jackson had encouraged him in turn. The facts that they shared similar belief systems, were both smarter than the average genius and had each grown up in dislocating circumstances only served to hasten their bonding as fast friends.

Dragging his thoughts back from the past to the issues at hand, it occurred to Blair that if humans could travel to other planets, then aliens could also travel to Earth. 'Teal'c' was an unusual name and there was something very different that Sandburg could sense in the somber man across the table. Biting his lip as he gazed at each of them in turn, he decided to take a chance on his intuition when his eyes came to rest on Teal'c. "So, uh, I'm guessing you weren't born in our planetary neighbourhood, right? Where are you from?" he asked, a spark of undeniable fascination in his eyes.

"Got you in one, eh, Teal'c?" Jack laughed as he playfully poked his colleague's arm.

"So it would seem, O'Neill," Teal'c replied with typical solemnity and then turned to face Sandburg. "I am a Jaffa, from the planet Chulak."

"Jaffa?" Blair repeated. "Does that mean 'warrior'?"

"It does," Teal'c allowed with a dignified nod. "One who is trained to the highest level. I was First Prime to the false god Apophis before realizing the truth."

"False god…" Sandburg echoed with a frown as he noted the derisive venom that laced Teal'c's words. "That would be another being who uses advanced skills or technology to intimidate or control your people? And, uh, you're here now because you're helping us fight this false god, or others like him that could pose a threat to us as well as to your people?"

Teal'c nodded again as Daniel sat back with a broad smile. "Told you he was quick on the uptake," he said with evident satisfaction.

"That you did, Dr. Jackson," General Hammond rumbled, but he, too, smiled sparingly in approval. "Perhaps it would be best if you gave Mr. Sandburg a thorough briefing. We haven't much time, as you know. We need him on PX2299. But first, Mr. Sandburg, I need your word that what you learn here you will never reveal to anyone outside this mountain."

"You have it, General Hammond," Sandburg replied soberly. Chuckling wryly, he added, "Not that anyone outside would believe me anyway. I mean, I'm the guy who's famous for lying in his doctoral thesis about the existence of sentinels, right? If I started spouting off about aliens, I think they'd just lock me up and throw away the key." Blair paused, took a breath, and then said with utter sincerity, "I really want to thank you for your trust in me. I'll do my best to ensure you never regret it."

General Hammond nodded soberly in acknowledgement, as Daniel stood.

"The General's right, Blair, we don't have a lot of time," Daniel hastened to say, as he lifted his hand toward the door. "If you'll come with me, I'll do my best to explain what's going on and why we need you so badly."

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

For the next twelve hours, Sandburg was given a crash course on how the Stargate worked and a history of its use. He was told about the existence of hundreds, even thousands, of other worlds and the nature of their societies as derivatives of old and even ancient Earth cultures. While his mind boggled at the vast amount of details being given him, Daniel continued to add more and more information. When Sandburg learned about the Goa'uld, he shuddered, stunned by the magnitude of their hideous enslavement of other cultures and the very real threat they posed to Earth.

"Whoa!" he finally exclaimed, holding up his hands in surrender. "I may be a 'quick study' as you put it, Daniel, but this is all - overwhelming! I mean, from what you've told me, I could make it a lifetime project just trying to better understand the cultures you've already encountered. I have to tell you, I'm fascinated - hell, I'm practically foaming at the mouth at the chance to be involved in all this. But I'm a little confused, too…"

"Only a little?" Daniel teased, laughter dancing in his eyes.

"Okay, a lot, about a lot of things, but mostly about what it is you want from me and why everyone seemed to think you needed me urgently," Blair explained as he stood to walk around while he talked, his hands gesturing with a life of their own. "You clearly need a research assistant of sorts and, with my masters, I'm qualified, I guess, to help you get a better handle on some of these cultures. But why did I get this sense of urgency?"

"It's not your degree we need, but your mind and your particular area of specialty," Daniel replied. "You're a lot smarter and better informed than any of the professors I ever worked with."

"Thanks, but that doesn't really answer my question," Sandburg replied as he gazed earnestly at his old friend.

Daniel rubbed the back of his neck and then pushed his glasses up as he explained slowly, "As an archeologist, I have a pretty good knowledge of many ancient cultures, and what I know of the ancient Egyptians has been really useful because the Goa'uld have drawn a lot of their own civilization from those roots. I've been able to establish basic communication using my knowledge of certain ancient languages and dialects, particularly those from Egypt and Mesopotamia, as well as Latin and Greek. I've done okay, I suppose, but it's been a stretch for me to engage with living cultures - I used to deal with stone and encryptions, mute evidence of what once was, not with the living, breathing people themselves. Mostly, I've tried to be guided by certain basic principles of respect and courtesy, and that's worked pretty well. But you're an anthropologist, you have different and very specialized communication and observation skills, as well as a lot of the same core knowledge that I have. Plus, because of your fascination with sentinels, you've studied some cultures I haven't, like the ancient Mayans and certain Asian societies and languages which are completely foreign to me."

"Okay, so you have a culture that you need to interact with that is more in my area of study…" Blair extrapolated.

"Yes, exactly, only we aren't just curious about them," Jackson continued. "We really need to engage in a treaty with them, and they need to affiliate with us for protection. The world we designate as PX2299 has incredible reserves of naquada, a metal of sorts that the Goa'uld use in their weapons and spacecraft. The people of that world don't have the means to defend themselves, and we could help them in very real ways - in return for mining rights. We need the naquada to protect ourselves, and them, from the Goa'uld."

"Okay, first, I'll bet they don't call their planet 'PX2299'," Sandburg observed dryly. "What's their name for their world?"

"Ixlana," Daniel replied with a faint grimace of embarrassment. He'd been spending too much time with the others and had slipped into their kind of objective referencing - an unintended insult to the people they were discussing.

"And since there is some urgency, I take it things aren't going well in the discussions about the proposed treaty," Sandburg reasoned. "They don't want you digging up their world - it violates their principles or beliefs, right?"

"Right," Jackson admitted. "Look, I know where you're coming from here and, normally, I'd agree with you that we should honour their beliefs and just disappear from their lives. But it's only a matter of time before the Goa'uld remember them and go back to check on their development, if only to take them as slaves to host the symbiotes. We can't afford to have the Goa'uld discover the naquada reserves there - and believe me, the Ixlanans would be a lot better off letting us mine, and then restore their land, than they would be with the Goa'uld. They're helpless, Blair - a precivilized culture that appears to be a mix between Mayan and Aztec, that still uses blow darts, arrows and spears. The Goa'uld would destroy them utterly."

"So what's the hold-up? Why haven't you been able to convince them of the threat looming over them?" Blair asked.

"Well, first, I haven't been able to figure out their language so communication has been a big problem. From what we were able to discern, the Grand Chieftain is old, and often he doesn't seem at all lucid. There's a sort of political game going on over who will be the new leader, one candidate favouring a treaty with us, and the other absolutely against it. Somewhere in the shadows, I think there's a Shaman influencing the Chief, maybe drugging him, I don't know," Daniel explained with an exasperated sigh. "From what I can gather, there's some kind of test that the successful warrior has to pass to become the Heir to the current Chieftain, and that's going to happen soon."

"You've done exceptionally well to figure out that much if you haven't established any verbal communication," Blair reflected as he thought about the situation. "You think this Shaman is against the idea of a treaty with Earth." When Daniel nodded, he went on, "Do you think that's simply because of tradition, or is there a more insidious reason, like maybe the Shaman has links of some kind with the Goa'uld?"

"We don't know, and that's part of the problem," Jackson replied bleakly.

"You think this guy might rig the test?"

"Maybe; probably," Daniel concurred. He hesitated and then said quietly, "We need to send our own Shaman to help the candidate we'd like to see win."

Sandburg rolled his eyes as he threw up his hands. "You've got to be kidding me!" he exclaimed. "You want me to act like some kind of Shaman? To give an edge to another world's selection of Chief? Are you nuts? Wait a minute! There's more that you haven't told me, isn't there?"

"Yeah," Jackson nodded. "From what we can tell, we think that part of the competition is to identify the best sentinel in their society. Maybe you could think of yourself as a Guide instead of as a Shaman. In any event, you can, uh, see why we really needed you."

"Daniel, you know as well as I do that an anthropologist ethically cannot interfere in the culture they are studying. It's just wrong," Blair protested.

"Is it ethical to sit back and allow them to be enslaved by the Goa'uld?" Jackson countered with no little frustration. He felt like he was playing Jack O'Neill while Blair made the protests he understood only too well. "Blair, the Goa'uld are the personification of evil. Trust me, I know that for a fact. If they gain control of Ixlana, their power would be increased exponentially and the whole universe would be even more at risk. We can't let that happen. We just can't."

Closing his eyes, Blair turned away, his hands stuffed into his jeans. His lips thinned as he bowed his head and thought about all Daniel had told him as he struggled to accept that it was all real, all true. He trusted Daniel implicitly; if Jackson was certain about something, then Blair accepted it as more than a working hypothesis. So, could he stand aside and refuse to help a whole people that would inevitably be subjugated by pitiless, abusive overlords? Could he do that also knowing that eventually his inaction would put other worlds, even Earth, at risk? What if he got involved and failed? Surely there was someone better suited - but no, there wouldn't likely be anyone else who understood sentinel talents and behaviours, their strengths and weaknesses, as well as he did. On one level, it was clearly ethically wrong to intentionally influence the direction of another culture, most particularly for one's own gain. But on another level - did he have any real choice but to try?

Blair swallowed hard and then took a deep breath as he turned back to face Daniel. "Okay, I'll do what I can. When do I leave?"

"We leave immediately," Daniel replied with visible relief. "SG1, er, our team will go with you to back you up."

Immediately?

It was all happening too damned fast.

Sandburg held up his hands as he thought about what he'd need. "Before we go, I need some supplies, like a white noise generator that runs on batteries, and another set that can be fitted like earplugs, and I need heavy duty sunglasses as well as a sleeping mask. Also, some hypoallergenic skin lotion, maybe a pair of rubber gloves and some silk sheets. Do these guys wear boots, clothing that covers their extremities?" When Daniel shook his head, Blair continued, "Okay, then a pair of jeans that would fit our candidate for Chief and a long sleeved shirt - a Kevlar vest wouldn't go amiss. A surgical mask. And some baking soda. We might not need all that stuff, but I'd rather have it with me than wish later we'd brought it along. Oh, and I need to make a phone call."

"You got it," Daniel said as he stood to lead Blair out of the briefing room. "I'll get started on your list of supplies while you get fitted with a uniform as well as be issued your weapon."

"Weapon?" Sandburg squeaked. "I, uh, don't carry a weapon."

"You do on this team," Jackson replied soberly as he motioned to Cpl. Myers who had been posted outside the door. "Take Mr. Sandburg to Supply to get him outfitted, then back to his room to make a phone call. When he's ready, bring him to the Stargate."

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

"Simon, I'm sorry to bother you at home," Blair began when Banks picked up the phone. "And, uh, I know it's kinda late…"

"What's this about, Sandburg?" Banks cut in, frowning at the odd effect of hurried hesitancy in the younger man's voice. The kid wouldn't call after midnight without a good reason.

"Well, things have happened kinda suddenly in my life," Blair replied as he ran his fingers through his hair while quickly marshalling his thoughts. "First, I want to thank you, and everyone else at MCU, for the incredible offer you made me yesterday…"

"But, you're not going to accept are you?" Simon guessed, his voice resonating with regret as he filled in the silence on the other end of the line.

"No, I'm not. I guess I just don't think I'd make a very good cop and, well, I also think that there'd be too many questions if I kept working with Jim after all that's happened. Questions none of us want to answer," Sandburg replied, his own voice revealing how hard it had been for him to turn his back on the offer that would have allowed him to continue backing Jim up.

"What are you going to do, Blair?" Banks asked then, sincerely worried about the fate of the former grad student. He'd come to both respect and like the kid over the years, and he knew as well as anyone the price Sandburg was paying for denying his dissertation on the national news.

"Actually, I've got a job, a really great job as it turns out, only it's not in Cascade," Sandburg told him then. "It's a kind of longitudinal study of societies and the influence of ancient myth and legend - right up an anthropologist's alley. Uh, Simon, the job requires fieldwork where I won't be easily reached, if I can be reached at all, and it turns out they want me to head out immediately on a current study. I wanted you to know so you could keep tabs on Jim, make sure he's all right. Well, you know what I mean. I'm sure he'll be fine, but…"

"You can't help but worry about him. Yeah, I know," Banks cut in on the rambling words. "I understand and I'll look out for him. Won't be the same as having you around, but Megan and I will do our best."

"Thanks, Simon, I really appreciate that," Sandburg replied sincerely. "Uh, Jim doesn't know that I'm heading out immediately, though he does know that fieldwork was a part of this deal. I'd call him, too, but I'm really pushed for time here…the team is waiting for me. So, um, I really needed to call you, to thank you, but could you let Jim know I'll be in touch as soon as I can? So he won't worry if he tries to reach me and can't find me?"

"Sure," Banks agreed, but his antennae were suddenly up. Blair had a tendency to ramble at the best of times, but he also used a surplus of words to confuse or obscure the fact that he wasn't really saying much in terms of real substance - and he sounded downright nervous. "Where are you headed?" There was enough hesitation after his question for Simon to know that he was about to receive one of the infamous Sandburgian obfuscations so he tried a preemptive strike. "Don't try to snow me, Sandburg. Fieldwork isn't usually a big secret."

"No, it's not," Blair agreed quietly. "But for the integrity of this project, I can't really say. Let's just say I'm headed to a jungle. No big deal, really, nothing that I haven't done before, sort of, anyway. I'm sorry, Simon, but that's all I can tell you."

"And that's the real reason you aren't calling Jim yourself, isn't it? He'd expect clearer answers," Banks snapped back, feeling more than slightly manipulated and not liking it.

"Like I've always said, there's a reason you're the Captain, sir," Sandburg returned with forced levity. But then he sobered as he concluded, "I'm sorry, Simon, I really am. But I'm new here and this job is important - I have to respect the rules. Thank everyone for me, please, and tell Jim not to worry. And now, I really do have to go. 'Bye!"

"Sandburg!" Banks shouted into the receiver, but the kid had already hung up. "Damn it, Blair, what have you gotten yourself into that you can't talk about? Jim is not going to be happy about this." Shaking his head as he hung up the phone, Simon muttered, "And, frankly, I'm not very happy, either."

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

All decked out in his crinkly new combat fatigues, and feeling uncomfortably like a junior GI Joe, Sandburg followed Cpl. Myers through the maze of underground corridors and stairwells. "What time is it?" he asked, trying to get his bearings in all the muddle of activity that had been going on.

"Just before 3:00 am, sir," Wilkins responded.

"Oh, man," Blair mumbled to himself, realizing how very late it had been when he'd called Simon.

Moments later, down yet another flight of steps, Myers led him into a massive cavern and Sandburg got his first look at the Stargate.

"Oh, wow," Blair breathed as he gaped at the massive structure.

"We're ready to go," O'Neill called out as he looked up over his shoulder at the Control Room. Immediately, the big wheel began to spin, and then stop momentarily as individual settings were encoded and locked into place with a loud metallic thud.

Blair could hear someone over the intercom crisply confirming the individual chevron settings just before the big wheel would start to revolve again. Daniel handed Sandburg a backpack and drew him to the side as PX2299 continued to be coded in. Blair found out why Daniel had moved him from the bottom of the ramp, and flinched in surprise, when the event horizon gushed into the chamber like a massive wave, and then settled back to form what looked like a horizontal pool of water that defied gravity. Immediately, O'Neill, Carter and Teal'c started up the ramp and Daniel drew SG1's newest member along with him.

"It's okay, nothing to be alarmed about. We just walk through the Stargate and there's a short period of disorientation before we walk out the other side. Nothing to it," Jackson assured Sandburg as the younger man mounted the ramp beside him.

"Oh man, I'm not sure I'm ready for this," Blair muttered, his eyes wide as he watched the others disappear from view.

"You'll be fine. Trust me," Daniel said with a smile as they paused at the Gate. "Go ahead, touch it."

Tentatively, feeling like a wimp, Blair reached out to touch the veil of water, gasping in surprise as his hand penetrated the curtain. Though it looked wet, it felt dry, and there was no resistance. It was warm and tingled a bit, but that was all. Taking a deep breath, he looked up at Daniel and nodded.

"Mr. Sandburg," General Hammond called out over the intercom. "Good luck."

Blair looked back over his shoulder and waved. Then he and Daniel Jackson stepped through the Stargate together.

Sandburg hardly had time to gulp at the flow of light and the odd rushing sensation he felt before they stumbled out the other side.

"The first step is the worst," O'Neill said with a grin. "You get used to it."

Sandburg shook his head, and breathed, "What a rush," as he took in the other team members at the base of the platform that held the Gate on this side, well, on Ixlana. Then he looked up and around at the rich, thick foliage of a tropical jungle, already feeling the heavy humidity that covered them like a blanket. Though it had been the middle of the night back on Earth, it was at least early morning here judging by the position of the sun. He could see two moons low on the horizon over the purple, and snow-capped mountains that rose in the distance, but otherwise the place looked and felt a lot like Peru or any other jungle he'd ever been in. But it wasn't any other jungle. He was on another planet! It was incredible.

"Let's move out, people," O'Neill called out, though his tone was relaxed. One by one, they followed him into the jungle.

"If we're on a peaceful mission, why are we armed?" Sandburg asked Daniel, his voice low as he regarded the weapons the others carried, uncomfortably conscious of the service revolver in the holster around his own waist.

"Because you can never predict what will happen on one of these missions," Jackson replied stoically. He'd objected to carrying a weapon at first, too, but hard experience had taught him the necessity of being armed. "Like I said, we have reason to believe the Goa'uld could arrive at any time."

"What reason?" Sandburg asked, curious and more than a little nervous. He hoped never to meet a Goa'uld face to face.

"We have other allies, on other planets. The Tok'ra, for example, are a race of people who also have symbiotes but they do not 'take over' the host and they are sworn enemies of the Goa'uld. They've successfully infiltrated many of the Goa'uld worlds and they've warned us that this planet is likely to be checked on soon."

"Oh," Blair murmured, wondering how 'soon' that might be.

They'd been walking for about fifteen minutes when O'Neill dropped back to wait until they caught up to him, letting Teal'c take point. "So, what's our story when we get there, Daniel?"

"Well, we don't want to give away all of Blair's capacities, I guess, not at first anyway," Daniel replied slowly.

"Always good to have a few tricks in reserve," O'Neill agreed cheerfully.

"Yes, well, I thought we'd try to convey that he's our best expert from Earth on societies like theirs, so we asked him to come to meet them and to lead our discussions about a possible treaty," Jackson suggested, wishing they'd had time to thrash all this out before arriving. His lips twisted into a grimace as he wondered how to get across such advanced concepts if Blair was also unable to decipher their language.

O'Neill scratched his cheek as he nodded. "Well, I guess the truth works," he drawled. "Often the best thing, I've found, when trying to recruit allies."

"Yeah, that's what I thought," Jackson returned with the shadow of a grin.

"Who are the principal players that I'm going to meet?" Sandburg asked, badly needing some specifics to give him a sense of what to expect.

"Well, let's see, there's the Grand Chieftain Ixzut'l," Jack supplied. "And his unseen advisor, or Shaman or whatever, Tex'chin. The two contenders for Grand Chief designate are Xic'tal, not our favourite, and Pana'tul. He's the guy we especially like - the one we hope you'll be able to help. As soon as they find out why we're back and what your role is, they'll both likely make themselves known fairly quickly. The two of them really don't get along at all well."

Frowning in concentration, Sandburg asked, "How are the contenders chosen? Are they relatives of the current Grand Chieftain?"

"No, not necessarily," Daniel supplied. "I gathered that they are the best warriors of this world, but also men that others have come to respect as thoughtful and successful leaders."

Nodding, Blair murmured, "So it's basically a merit-based system, not entirely patriarchal or nepotistic. That's good - makes for better, stronger, leaders usually. Anyone else I should be prepared for?"

Joining the conversation, Carter replied, "There's the Priestess, L'teel. She seems to be trying to remain neutral, and the Priest Char'ten who seems to be afraid of the Shaman."

"These contenders are sentinels, right?" Blair asked and then clarified, "They have heightened senses?"

"Yes," Daniel replied succinctly. "So far as we've been able to observe."

"Then, who are their 'companions' or 'guides'?" Sandburg asked and then realized he had to explain though he felt uncomfortable giving out any specific information about sentinel vulnerabilities, "A sentinel needs someone who watches his back and helps him manage his senses, particularly when he or she is really focused on one sense. They can be, uh, somewhat oblivious to everything else when they focus like that and it makes them vulnerable."

The others looked at one another and shrugged. Teal'c had slowed to give them time for their discussion before getting too close to the walled city and now answered for them all, "We have seen nothing that indicates such a companion, BlairSandburg."

"Uh, just call me, Blair, okay?" Sandburg replied.

"As you wish," Teal'c agreed with a nod.

"Why didn't I ever think of that?" Daniel muttered to himself, having found Teal'c's propensity to use his full name disconcerting, though he'd gotten used to it.

"It doesn't make sense that there's no companion or guide," Blair continued thoughtfully. "Even if they've been trained from childhood, in a competition a companion would seem to be essential, especially if one side isn't playing fair. This invisible Shaman is likely giving his contender personal coaching and assistance."

"Makes sense," Jack replied briskly. "So, you'll do the same for our guy, right?"

"They may not let me play, Colonel," Blair cautioned.

O'Neill slung an arm around Sandburg's shoulder as he said amiably, "You can call me, Jack. And, Blair, it's your job to make sure they let you play. Okay?"

"All I can do is offer, Jack," Blair retorted. "Pana'tul will have to accept."

"Daniel says you're great, and I believe him. So I'm sure you'll have no trouble convincing Pana'tul," Jack returned in a tone that, while bantering, held an edge of command. "You'll do just fine."

"I hope so," Sandburg sighed as they resumed their trek along the jungle path.

"Don't pressure him, Jack," Daniel warned. "Blair understands how serious and important this is."

"With respect, sir, Daniel's right. Blair's absorbing an awful lot, awfully fast," Carter added quietly.

"Pressure? What pressure? It's not like the fate of the galaxy and maybe the entire universe depends on our success here," Jack replied sarcastically. "Oh, wait, yes it does. Failure isn't really an option, now, is it?"

"No, sir," Carter agreed somberly.

Blair just rolled his eyes and kept walking. He felt more than a little surreal, as if it was all some kind of very weird dream. In part, he knew he was just really tired, drained emotionally from all that had happened over the past couple of weeks, and physically worn out from lack of sleep over the same time period. His mind was spinning as he grappled with the reality of being on another planet; and the thought that Jack was serious, that the fate of the universe rested on his shoulders, frankly terrified him. For the first time since he'd landed in Denver, he had a few minutes to just think about everything that was happening and he felt nauseated by the tension that roiled in his gut. Failure might not be an option, but it was a possibility, and his fear of not living up to their expectations tightened in his chest so that he had to consciously breathe deeply to keep from hyperventilating. 'God, Jim, I wish you were here,' he thought dismally. 'You'd know what to do, how to handle this pressure. You'd be practical and take one thing at a time and you wouldn't be as scared as I am.'

But Jim wasn't there, wouldn't ever be there. Blair sighed heavily as they emerged from the jungle and then he lifted his head and got his first look at the major city on the planet. Ixlania, named in honour of the planet, was a holy city, and from what Daniel had told him, the center of this world's government. And it was huge! A great wall stretched in either direction and behind it rose a massive city built of stone in an architectural style very reminiscent of the ruins of the great Mayan cities on Earth. Sun and star symbols were carved into the walls and on the arch over the two-story high gate through the thick wall. Flowers grew in vines and garlands over the walls and on the buildings beyond, lush and beautiful. Tall, bronzed guards dressed in ceremonial leather armour stood on either side of the gateway, and each held a deadly looking lance festooned with feathers at the base of the wicked, serrated, blade, as well wearing blowpipes hooked on their belts next to pouches that no doubt held poisoned darts. He could hear the cacophony of voices from inside, the high-pitched squeals and laughter of children at play, the banter of women gossiping or haggling at the market which was likely somewhere very near the entryway. The deeper voices of men rumbled, like thunder in the distance. He listened intently to the cadences, picking out the sounds of vowels and consonants, unconsciously referencing memories of source material about ancient dialects and vocabularies, relaxing when he found that he could pick out some words and guess at their meaning.

And for the first time, it all felt real. The life and society of this alien people was vibrant and Sandburg found his sense of excitement rising to defuse the tension inside. Any anthropologist who sincerely loved his work would kill for an opportunity like this - to be the first to observe a wholly new society - to study and learn about a never before known people. Squaring his shoulders and lifting his chin, Blair told himself he could only do his best - and he'd give no less.

Jack was watching him and, at the visible signs of engagement and determination, he grinned and winked at Daniel. The kid would be okay.

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

Jim had awakened with a sharp jerk, panting from being so badly startled. Getting himself under control, he stared up at the skylight, his sense of hearing reaching out to determine what had wakened him so abruptly. But he only heard the soft sounds of the night, the whish of a car passing on the street below, the low rumble of snores from the apartments around him, and the utter silence in the rest of the loft. He rubbed his eyes and then sat up, squinting as he concentrated, trying to remember if he'd been having a nightmare.

A flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye caught his attention and he stiffened warily as his intense gaze raked the darkness of the floor below. Maybe it had only been the shadow of an owl flying past the balcony - a dark sensation of motion with no sound.

But something had startled him awake. Something that had set his heart racing with alarm.

Cautiously, silently, he made his way to the steps and slowly descended, certain there was something down there.

And then he heard it - the low growl of a hunting cat.

Swallowing, he blew out a breath to steady his nerves. God, he hated these visions - they were always so damned cryptic, and they never boded well. Slipping down the stairs, he finally spotted the black jaguar prowling outside of Sandburg's room as if it were looking for something or, more likely, someone.

"He's not there," Jim muttered wearily. "He's in Colorado."

The cat looked up at him, the green eyes piercingly bright in the darkness, and then it snarled. Clearly agitated, it suddenly whirled and bolted into Sandburg's bedroom, only to leap back out, this time with a sharp yowl that sounded as if it were in pain. Again, the jaguar glared up at Ellison, its teeth and claws bared as it pawed at the floor, and then it turned and stalked into the bedroom, clearly expecting Jim to follow.

When Jim got to the doorway, the big cat leapt onto Sandburg's bed, turned to Jim, and then it just disappeared.

Ellison sagged against the doorframe as he rubbed his hand over his head. "What the hell was that all about?" he cursed in frustration, an uneasy feeling growing in his gut.

Turning back toward the staircase, he paused as his eyes swept the darkness of the loft, his gaze landing on the small sticky note by the phone on which Blair had left Daniel Jackson's number. Ellison looked at his watch. It was just after two am. Not a reasonable hour to be making calls to a time zone where it was only three o'clock in the morning. Sandburg would think he was going nuts and no way did he want to worry the kid the first night he was gone…no way did he want to worry Blair, ever, for that matter.

…but what if the kid was in some kind of trouble?

Sighing, Jim started back up the stairs only to pause when the jaguar snarled again, though the cat didn't reappear.

"You're going to have to be a hell of lot clearer if you want something from me," Jim growled back to the darkness around him. "I'm going back to bed. Send me a dream or something, you know, where you change into me and say incomprehensible and annoying things. Maybe then I'll have some chance of understanding what you're trying to tell me."

But though he tried, he couldn't relax enough to get back to sleep. The cat had been more agitated than Jim had ever seen it act before, and it had sounded like it was wounded or something. Why had it chosen to disappear on Sandburg's bed? Had something happened to his Guide?

Finally admitting to himself that he wasn't going to get any more sleep that night, Ellison got up and pulled on his sweats. Moving downstairs, he made himself a cup of coffee and then went out to the balcony where he stood blowing idly on the hot liquid until it had cooled enough to drink.

Restless, feeling anxious, he found himself staring up at the distant stars as he wondered what the jag had been trying to tell him.

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

The guards at the city gate recognized the visitors from their last visit, just over a week before. They nodded formally, speaking slowly in their language as they crossed their spears and blocked the entryway.

"Oh, come on, what's the hold-up here?" Jack groused impatiently. "Daniel? Blair? Do something."

"How did you communicate with them the last time?" Sandburg asked as he studied the burly men, his head tilted unconsciously as he struggled to make out their words.

"Drew pictures mostly, played some charades," Daniel replied. "Why? Do you understand any of the language?"

"Maybe, a bit - it's sorta like what we know about the Mayan language," Blair replied as he diffidently stepped forward. He bowed formally to the guards and, with a hesitation borne of his unfamiliarity with the sound of spoken Mayan, he introduced himself and the others.

The guards laughed at his odd pronunciation, but seemed relieved that he could communicate, if rudimentarily, with them. Their relief was nothing compared to the sighs of happy approbation behind him. Emboldened, Sandburg went on to request an attendance with the Grand Chieftain Ixzut'l, indicating that they had brought the Chief a gift to show their respect and their concern for his health. The two guards exchanged a look and moved closer together to speak softly without being overheard. Blair noted that they were barely moving their lips and realized they had to have enhanced hearing ability.

"Daniel, who's got the white noise generator?" Blair called back quietly over his shoulder.

"I do," Jackson replied as he rummaged in his backpack. When Daniel handed him the small battery powered instrument, Blair waved at the guards to get their attention. When they turned to him, he held out the generator and flipped the switch, mimicking the act of sleeping as he tried to explain that this was a gift to help the Chief rest.

Startled to find all their hearing of the loud confusion of sounds from beyond the city wall and the jungle around them vanish, so that they only heard what was in their immediate vicinity at a normal level, the guards approached and warily touched the small white machine. Blair turned it off and looked at them hopefully, doing his best to convey concern for the Chief and only the best of friendly intentions. One of the guards smiled and nodded. He'd have liked one of the magical boxes himself on nights when the noises of his world kept him awake. Turning back to the gate, he called out and another guard appeared. Waving at the newcomers, the man indicated they were to be taken to the palace.

Blair smiled and nodded, offering his thanks as he waved to his companions to follow him through the gateway into the passage carved out of the massive wall.

Jack moved up beside him and slapped him on the back. "Way to go, professor!" O'Neill crowed softly as he smiled in congratulation.

"You do realize that they think it's magic?" Daniel mumbled as he moved alongside.

"Yeah, well, you wanted them to mistake me for a Shaman," Sandburg replied, not altogether happily, but relieved that he'd been able to establish some limited communication, and had gotten them in the gate.

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

Blair felt he was balanced between a state of perpetual awe and outright terror as they made their way along the wide ceremonial approach to the palace. The street was paved with a stone that resembled pink marble but glowed softly and felt warm underfoot. Covered porticoes lined the broad road, and the sidewalks they shadowed were tiled with tiny, brightly coloured ceramic squares. Behind the porticoes, there were shops that held an impressive and rich array of goods, from clothing and jewelry to pottery and weaponry. Tall three-story buildings rose up from either side; solid, well designed structures built of stone. The townsfolk, curious and apparently without fear, watched them from the sheltered walkways and from apertures in the walls of the buildings that loomed above them, and Blair could hear them murmuring in speculation, wondering why they had come.

Ahead of them, the wide paved road branched around a huge round pool of crystal blue water that held a fountain shaped like a bird, something like a phoenix, in its center. Around the fountain, there was a low stone wall, broken at intervals with statues of jaguars. Sandburg cocked his head, wondering if there were actual jaguars, or something very like them, on this planet or if this was evidence of ancient mythology still holding mystery and meaning for these people. Beyond the fountain, two tall edifices, at least six stories high, commanded the view. One was very obviously a temple, built clearly along the lines of the ancient Mayan pyramids. And the other was the palace, a breathtaking structure of glistening white stone festooned with crimson flowers that bloomed on the thick emerald green vines twining up the walls. There were balconies and palisades, decorative arches over window embrasures and carved within the stone itself were representations of many different animals and birds, some of which Sandburg recognized, like the jaguar and wolf, the cockatoo, serpents and eagles, while others were distinctly alien in nature.

"This place is incredible," he murmured, unconsciously smiling in appreciation of the beauty of the design and craftsmanship.

"Isn't it?" Daniel sighed in return. Neither of them noticed Jack rolling his eyes at their academic rapture or Sam's indulgent grin.

As they approached the palace, a statuesque, lightly bronze-skinned woman with large beautiful eyes, and long, straight ebony hair crowned with an elaborate headdress of deep blue feathers, moved out of the shadows at the top of the staircase that led to the main entrance. She was garbed in a flowing gown of something that looked like cerulean silk, with one shoulder bare. On that arm, she wore a heavy bronze-like band that was encrusted with gems that glittered in the sunlight, while her other arm was covered by the drape of fabric. She waited patiently, perfectly still, for them to climb up to meet her.

"The Priestess, L'teel," Teal'c rumbled in a low voice for Blair's benefit.

Sandburg flashed the big man a smile of gratitude as he began to mount the steps, the others following close behind him. His palms were sweaty, and his mouth felt dry as he swallowed against the lump of anxiety in his throat.

"Okay, Shaman, do your stuff," Jack encouraged softly.

"Please don't call me Shaman," Blair muttered back. "It's a title of reverence and respect that has to be earned and, believe me, I don't qualify."

"Maybe not, but you're the best we've got, so perk up and look like you know what you're doing," Jack counseled firmly.

"Right," Sandburg sighed but he lifted his chin to meet the steady gaze of the priestess who awaited them.

When he reached a position two steps below her, he stopped and sank to one knee, his head bowed. "Most honoured Priestess L'teel, we come in peace and bring a gift for the Grand Chieftain, Ixzut'l," he tried to say and hoped his message approximated his intent.

"I welcome you in peace," she replied, her voice low and musical.

Lifting his head, Blair smiled up at her as he said haltingly, "You have met my companions before. My name is Blair Sandburg. May we enter?"

"You may," she replied, a slight smile touching her lips as she stepped back a pace and turned to wave them forward.

"You're doing good, kid," Jack mumbled as they climbed the rest of the way up and followed her into the cool shadows.

"Real good," Sam echoed softly.

L'teel led them through exquisitely decorated hallways that were tiled in elaborate mosaic designs and populated by massive sculptures of the same animals and birds that decorated the outside walls. The air was light and cool, and Blair was impressed to see an internal waterfall that fell from the top floor within the inner circle of the wide stone stairwell that climbed up to the roof. The slight waft of a cool breeze indicated the palace was open to allow in air that would circulate around the waterfall and refresh the palace.

"It's like the Palace of Knossus," he murmured.

"The Palace of who?" Jack asked.

"The Minoan palace on Crete, the original maze of the Minotaur," Sandburg explained quietly. "It's an amazing feat of engineering…"

"Whatever," Jack replied, not really impressed.

"You don't understand," Sandburg explained. "It could indicate some kind of sharing of knowledge between those two early cultures, before the ancestors of these people were brought here. There's never been any evidence found of such contact on earth."

"And that matters because…?" Jack prompted, pretty sure the information was esoteric at best.

"Because it's fascinating," Sandburg snapped back, finding O'Neill's continued sarcasm and jibes irritating, and too tired to ignore them completely. But he swallowed and explained more patiently, "And also because it might give us some other clues about how these people think, what they believe."

"Okay, I can see how that would be helpful," O'Neill capitulated with a lift of his hands in surrender.

"Jack, would you give him a break," Daniel protested in irritation. Turning to Blair he added, "He's only half as dumb as he acts."

"That's a relief," Blair replied straight-faced, but his eyes twinkled when Sam snickered and Teal'c unbent enough to let a smile twitch on his lips. Jack just snorted. It was then that Sandburg realized what they, and especially Jack, were up to. They were trying to help him relax with the light byplay and he was more than willing to aid and abet their efforts on his behalf. His stomach was tied in knots and he was so very afraid of screwing up, he needed all the help they could possibly give to let some of the tension go, so that he could concentrate on the tasks ahead. He felt oddly comforted by the behaviours that reminded him of how Jim teased him in that dry way of his, to get him to loosen up when he was on the edge of panic.

L'teel continued to guide them up five flights of stone steps and then she turned into a spacious hallway, more a palisade that was open to the air, the ceiling supported by intricately carved columns. They could look out over the whole city and see the tropical rain forest and mountains beyond as they followed her across and into the most richly appointed chamber they'd yet seen. Elaborate, multi-coloured tapestries graced the walls and miniature waterfalls cascaded down either side of the inner doorway, to disappear into the floor below. There were exquisite statues with inlaid gems and fine metals around the walls, and arrangements of small groupings of stone benches made comfortable with plush pillows. As a waiting room, it was pretty impressive.

The priestess turned to Blair as she said, "The Grand Chieftain rests. Wait here, and I will come for you when he is ready…"

Blair nodded and motioned his companions toward the benches near the inner doorway.

"What was that?" Jack asked.

"We're supposed to wait here, I think," Blair replied. "If I understood her right, the Chief is resting right now."

"And we're going to wait how long, exactly?" Jack pressed, impatient as always.

"Until he's ready to see us," Sandburg replied with a shrug as he sat down, weary to his very bones. Actually, 'resting' sounded like a pretty good idea. "I, uh, I think I'll just lie down, if nobody minds," he said to anyone who was listening, and then he promptly curled up on the bench and closed his eyes. Even his acute state of anxiety wasn't enough to keep his exhaustion at bay.

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

Jim's leg had begun to ache hours before from standing too long in the damp darkness. So he'd sat down on one of the balcony chairs as he'd continued to contemplate the heavens. Gradually, the dark gave way to a pale, watery gray, and the light grew as dawn became early morning.

Blinking, Ellison stretched and looked at his watch for the umpteenth time since he'd come out to stare at the sky nearly four hours before. Rising, he went into the loft and directly to the phone. It was seven AM in Colorado, a semi-reasonable time to call to catch his friend before he headed out to his new job.

But the phone only rang until the voice mail with a strange voice, presumably that of Daniel Jackson, clicked in. "I'm sorry, I'm not available to take your call. Please leave a message at the beep and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

Frustrated, Jim left his name and number, and the brief message that he'd like to speak to Blair Sandburg, and then he hung up.

Sighing, he made himself a pot of coffee and some toast, but then didn't feel like eating it. His sense of disquiet had grown during the night to the point where he felt itchy with irritated helplessness. Chewing on his lip, he was debating the wisdom of making flight reservations to Denver when the phone rang.

Grabbing it, he didn't bother with the usual 'hello', expecting it to be Blair returning his call. "Sandburg?" he asked immediately, hopefully.

"Sorry, Jim, it's Simon," Banks replied somberly. "Look, I apologize if I'm calling too early, but I think we need to talk."

"What about?" Jim asked, butterflies twitching in his stomach at the grave intonation of Simon's voice.

"Sandburg called me around 1:30 this morning to tell me he had this other job and that he was going out immediately on some field assignment," Simon explained. "But - he got cagey when I asked him where he was headed, especially since he didn't think he'd be reachable while he was away. He wanted me to tell you not worry, but…"

"But…?" Ellison echoed when Banks' voice trailed off.

"But what's so secret about an anthropological field trip?" Simon asked. "And where can you go that is that far out of reach?"

"I don't know, but Naomi seems to manage that little feat on a regular basis," Jim replied with no little sarcasm to cover the anxiety that twisted inside.

"Yeah, I guess, but there's something very odd about all this," Banks continued. "I called the phone company to find out where he'd called from, intending to call him back - but when I learned the caller number and location, I thought I'd better talk to you before doing anything else. Jim, what kind of project would Sandburg be working on in a military establishment inside Cheyenne Mountain?"

"What are you talking about?" Ellison growled, startled into aggravated and very active worry.

"The number he called from is listed as an Air Force establishment, Jim," Simon clarified. "You see why I'm a little confused - and concerned."

Jim frowned in consternation. "He said he was going to work on some kind of project that studies the impact of myth and legend on modern day societies…" he finally answered. "You're right. It makes no sense. But he knew the guy, a Daniel Jackson, who offered him this job, and it was pretty clear that he thought it was a legitimate position. I honestly don't think he was lying to me about the job offer, at least as to what he thought it involved. I've even got Jackson's home phone number…it's 713 555-5280. I tried the number a little while ago, but only got the voice mail."

"Why'd you call this early in the morning?" Banks asked, only surprised that Jim had caved so soon to his not unexpected need to be in touch with Blair.

"Ah, Simon, you're not going to like this," Jim sighed as he pinched the bridge of his nose. "The black jaguar appeared around two this morning and acted really weird, like he was hurt or something. He led me to Sandburg's room and then disappeared after he jumped on the bed."

There was a long silence. "You're right, I don't like it, and I don't understand it, but now I'm more worried than ever. Let me run a check on this Daniel Jackson and see what I come up with," Simon rumbled. "I'll get back to you as soon as I can. And listen up, Jim - I know what you're thinking about doing. Don't, and I repeat, don't leave town until you hear from me, okay? Let's get a little more information before you fly off to Colorado, so we have some idea of what we're dealing with."

"Okay, thanks, Simon," Jim replied and then hung up the phone. For a long moment, he stood and stared at it, wondering what was going on, and if somehow the military had tricked Blair into something, maybe related to his dissertation. But that didn't make sense, either. If they were interested in sentinels and didn't believe Blair's public denials, then wouldn't the military have come after him and not Blair?

Turning, he looked toward Blair's room and thought again about the jag's mysterious behaviour during the night. Something was wrong, very wrong. Blair was in some kind of trouble.

His expression grim, Jim limped across the loft and up the stairs to his room to get dressed and pack a bag. Carrying it downstairs, he pulled out his personal phonebook and looked up Jack Kelso's number, to have it handy when Simon called back.

And then he sat down to wait with increasing impatience by the phone.

It was a long hour before Simon finally called back and Jim practically pounced on the phone. "What have you got?" he demanded.

"Dr. Daniel Jackson is an archeologist who lives at 62 Ridge Road, Apartment 11, in Colorado Springs. He achieved a certain notoriety a few years back with his theories that the pyramids had been built by aliens and then he dropped out of sight. His tax return indicates that he's employed by the US Air Force. That's it," Simon reported.

"Got it," Jim replied as he finished scribbling down the address. "I'm going to call Jack Kelso, to see what he knows about this project, whatever it is. I'll call you after I've met with him, and then I'm heading out to the airport."

"Want company?" Simon asked.

"I don't know yet, but thanks for the offer," Jim replied carefully. Simon was just out of the hospital himself and still recuperating from a very serious gunshot wound through his back and chest. No matter how much he wanted to be a part of this, Ellison had no intention of dragging him along. Still, Jim didn't have time to debate it with Banks, so he used avoidance instead. "I'll get back to you on that."

Immediately after disconnecting, Jim punched in Kelso's home number. "Hey, Jack, it's Jim Ellison. I need a favour. Blair's accepted some job from an old friend of his, an archeologist named Dr. Daniel Jackson, that Sandburg said was a study of the impact of myth on society. I've just found out that this Dr. Jackson is employed by the Air Force inside Cheyenne Mountain in Colorado Springs. Blair called last night to say he was heading out on a field trip and would be out of reach for a while, and the number he called from is one of those assigned to the military establishment in the mountain. I need to know what's going on."

"You guys get into the weirdest stuff," Jack replied sardonically. "I've heard a few vague rumours about the mountain, but let me check with my sources to see if I can get anything more specific. Can you meet me in my office in, oh, say an hour?"

"I'll be there," Jim confirmed.

And then he called the airline to book the noon flight out to Denver.

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

Jim hobbled into Jack Kelso's office at the University, a cane in one hand and his duffel bag in the other, precisely one hour later.

Kelso, a former CIA agent disabled in the line of duty, and now a professor of Political Science, looked up, a quizzical expression on his face as he waved Ellison to a chair. "How's your leg?" he asked with evident concern.

"It'll do," Jim replied briskly. "What have you got on Daniel Jackson and this project in Colorado Springs?"

"Well," Kelso sighed as he scratched the back of his head, "you're venturing into X-files territory, I'm afraid."

Blowing out an impatient breath, Jim grated, "Look, I don't have time to beat around the bush here. What's Sandburg gotten himself into?"

"I'm sorry, I couldn't get much," Jack replied unhappily. "This is a very hush-hush project, linked directly into the Joint Chiefs and the President. All I could find out was some iffy speculation about the amount of money that disappears into that mountain, and some outright mockery about the uselessness of a project that is designed to learn about alien civilizations, you know, a little like Area 51. As for Daniel Jackson, he's an archeologist who was considered brilliant at one time and then dismissed as flaky because of his theories about aliens building the pyramids. The Cheyenne Mountain operation is headed up by a General George Hammond, a very solid and highly experienced, respected senior officer. Not someone given to pursuing fairy tales. I also found out that a Colonel Jack O'Neill was called out of retirement to work on this same project. Jack O'Neill is not someone to mess with - he had extensive combat experience and some covert ops classified assignments. Maybe you know…"

"Jack O'Neill? I know him," Jim muttered, surprised to hear that he was involved in this somehow. Frowning, he considered what he remembered of O'Neill from his Covert Ops days - the man had been his first unit commander and something of a legend, until he'd been rotated out to HQ for his next posting; unfortunately, Oliver had been promoted in, and it had all gone downhill from there. But Jim had heard a while back that O'Neill had gotten tired of the politics in Washington and had retired. Ellison didn't know General Hammond, personally, but remembered his reputation as a very sensible, ethical officer who was broadly trusted throughout the force. Some of his anxiety eased just in knowing that men like that were a part of the mystery, though it only left him with more questions. What could they want with Sandburg? And what the hell was this shit about aliens?

"Does any of that help?" Kelso asked into the prolonged silence.

"Uh, yeah, I think it might," Jim said absently and then he focused back on the former CIA agent. "Thanks, Jack. I owe you a big one."

Kelso shrugged, a worried frown on his face. "You'll let me know - I mean, I wouldn't want Blair to be in any kind of trouble. Regardless of that press conference, well…I know there's something up between the two of you, but you don't owe me any explanation about that. But if anything in that paper was true, the military might be very interested in learning about sentinels and their abilities. Let's just say I don't think he was lying in that paper. Blair's not the sort to commit fraud."

Jim gazed at Kelso for a long moment and then nodded briefly as he stood. "You're right. He's not. We'll tell you what we can when we get back."

"Have a good and successful trip - call me if there's anything else I can do to help," Jack said as Jim turned to leave, unsurprised that the detective was evidently heading to Colorado.

Outside, Jim called Simon while he waited for the taxi that would take him to the airport. As the cab pulled up, he finished his report, such as it was. "Given that I know both Hammond by reputation and O'Neill from the Black Op days, I'm going to head out on my own. If it turns out I need some back-up, I'll give you a call."

"All right, Jim. Good luck…and keep me posted. I don't want you disappearing on any fieldtrips where I can't reach you, you hear me?" Simon directed.

"I hear you, Simon," Jim replied with a grim smile. "I'll do my best to keep you in the loop, sir."

He heard Simon's snort as he disconnected and got into the taxi.

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

"Blair, wake up!" Daniel called softly as he shook the younger man's shoulder.

"Huh, what?" Sandburg mumbled, slightly disorientated as he blinked and tried to remember where he was.

"The Grand Chieftain is ready to see us," Jackson told him.

"Oh, right," Blair said as he sat up and ran his fingers through his unkempt hair. Smothering a yawn, he stood to bow to Priestess L'teel and then, backpack over his shoulder, he followed her into the inner chamber; the others close on his heels.

Blinding late afternoon sunlight poured in through the open window embrasures, making Blair wince in reflex. Even this high above the city, he could hear the cacophony of sound, voices calling out shrilly, drums beating and bells ringing. Sniffing, he caught the bitter tang of smoking herbs in the air, and then his eyes found the Grand Chieftain and he moaned in unconscious empathy, "Oh, you poor guy…"

Ixzut'l would have been a tall, strong man in his prime, but now he was old, his shoulders rounded and bent as he huddled under a woolen blanket on a throne-like chair made of finely woven, but rough, reeds. Lines around his eyes and mouth revealed the presence of some terrible pain - he looked as if he'd been battered by life.

Over his shoulder, Blair murmured, "Don't say anything unless you have to - and if you do speak, whisper." And then he moved to kneel by the Chieftain, biting his lower lip as he studied the old man. Bowing his head in respect, he said very softly, "Most honoured and wise of men, I am Blair Sandburg, and I bring you treasures from Earth to ease your pain and aid your rest. Please, may I approach and present you with our gifts?"

The old man stared into space as if he hadn't heard, and Blair's eyes grew dark with concern. Turning to L'teel, he said, "Chieftain Ixzut'l is in great pain, but I believe I can help him if you will allow me."

The beautiful priestess studied him in silence for a long moment, but having read the honest concern in his eyes, she nodded. "Do what you can and we will be forever grateful."

Nodding, Blair stood and stepped away from the suffering man to murmur to her, "Could you bring me some fruit and herbs that have a slightly sweet smell? And some morsels of his favourite food, and his most preferred drink?" She nodded and left the room. Turning to the others, he directed quietly, "Close the blinds on all the windows and get that smelly herbal stuff out of this room. I need someone to put the silk sheets on his bed, and I also need the sleep mask and the skin lotion." As he spoke, he pulled the white noise generator from his pocket and clicked it on. Jack took care of the windows while Teal'c pulled the sheets from his bag and moved to the bed in an alcove behind the throne. Sam handed Blair the skin lotion and the sleep mask while Daniel gathered up the smoky pots of herbs and carried them out of the chamber.

Blair moved back toward the Chieftain, setting the white noise generator on the polished wood floor as he knelt beside the old man. Gently, Sandburg removed the coarse blanket from the Chieftain's knees and cast it aside, wincing at the sight of inflamed and irritated skin. Murmuring softly, he did his best to explain what he was doing so that he wouldn't startle the ruler with his ministrations.

"I know it hurts, that everything hurts, but I can help you," he whispered softly as he laid a gentle hand on the old man's arm. "We will dim the light so that it will not burn your eyes any further, and I have a mask for you to wear when you lie down to bring you soothing darkness. I am going to put medicine on your skin and, while I do, I want you to picture five flowers, each of them a different colour, and each of them fully in bloom. Can you tell me their colours?"

Slowly, Ixzut'l blinked and then turned his head to face Blair. "Red, yellow, green, orange and white," he replied in a low, hoarse voice.

"Good," Blair murmured. "The red flower represents the pain in your body. As I soothe this medicine into your skin, I want you to imagine that flower closing as it does as the end of the day. As it closes, the pain will diminish…"

Smoothly and ever so gently, after he warmed the lotion in his palms, he stroked it over the irritated skin, and all the while he kept up a low, encouraging murmur. Under his hands, he felt the old man begin to relax. "There, the red flower is half closed, but it can still close more. While it is closing, think of the white flower, which represents bright light. It too is fully open, but as you picture it, imagine it also closing and the light in the room becoming dimmer…"

Blair continued to soothe on the lotion, his voice a soft melodious murmur as he instructed the Chieftain. "Now, the yellow blossom is your sense of smell. Right now, it is fully open and you can smell the sharp bitterness in the air, but as the flower closes, the bitterness goes away." When L'teel returned carrying a large basket of fruit in one hand and a plate of delicacies in another, a maid behind her bearing a pitcher and goblet, Sandburg whispered, "Can you smell the fruit, how fresh it is? The food? Your favourite?" Ixzut'l nodded, and sighed. "Very good, my lord, very, very good. And now the green flower is what you can hear. I've brought a gift that already silences the noises that have grated upon your ears. But the flower is still open, and it needs to close…"

Tentatively, Blair touched the nubbly shawl that covered the Chieftain's shoulders and back, drawing it away from the skin and then he applied the cream to the man's reddened shoulders and down along his spine. "The orange flower is what you taste." The old man twisted his lips unhappily. "Yes, I know, you have a bad taste in your mouth, but we've brought you food and drink, only that which you enjoy." Having finished with the lotion, Blair looked around for something with which to clean his hands, and found that L'teel had anticipated his need. She moved forward with a pottery bowl of water and a length of soft cloth over her arm.

"Thank you," Sandburg said softly as he washed and dried his hands. "You are most helpful. And now, if you would bring me his food and drink?"

Delicately, Blair fed the old man one small morsel at a time after first smelling it and tasting it himself to ensure the flavours weren't too strong. As he watched Ixzut'l chew and swallow, he was gratified to see that the lines of pain on the man's face had eased. Still, he continued his murmuring, and kept one hand lightly on the Chieftain's arm. "The flowers are closing up, the noise has disappeared, and the light is soft on your eyes. Your skin is warm and soothed. You smell fresh fruit and good food, the flavours dancing on your tongue. The pain has drifted away…you can truly rest now, and sleep."

Ixzut'l nodded and allowed Blair to help him stand. Slowly, they walked to the bed where Blair settled him on the cool silken sheets. The old man sighed with pleasure as he relaxed. Finally, Sandburg held out the sleep mask. "I wish to place this over your eyes to bring the ease of darkness. May I?"

"Yes," Ixzut'l allowed, so Blair slipped it over his head and down to cover his eyes.

"When you have rested well, perhaps we may speak again," Sandburg whispered. "But, remember always the flowers. When the pain and discomfort is great, think of the flowers and watch them close, taking the pain away."

He withdrew his hand from the old man's arm, but Ixzut'l fumbled to grab at his hand. Smiling, Blair asked, "Is there something you wish?"

"To thank you, young Shaman," Ixzut'l rumbled, his voice stronger and less strained than it had been. "You have powerful magic and wondrous gifts. You are generous and I call you friend. I look forward to knowing you well."

"It's been my honour to serve you, my lord," Blair murmured and then withdrew, gesturing to the others to leave the room with him. They'd been standing aside, silently watching him minister to the most powerful man on Ixlana, amazed at how the Chieftain had responded. By the time he'd finished, Ixzut'l had actually looked younger, and had been smiling in contentment. Though they'd not understood the old man's words, they'd all noted that he was more alert and stronger than they'd ever seen him. Indeed, in the past, they'd rarely seen him able to speak at all.

When the wooden doors to the inner chamber were closed behind them, Sandburg turned to the Priestess. "L'teel, I suggest that the blinds always be closed against the bright sun, and that bitter herbs never again be burned in his presence. Get rid of that reed chair or cover it with soft pillows. Here, you may keep this medicine for his skin - apply it twice a day until the redness goes away."

She took the plastic tube in her hands, studying it and then looked up at him, as she replied, "You counsel very differently than does Shaman Tex'chin. It was he who ordered the herbs and bright light. He who required us to use coarse woolen materials to make the demons tormenting the Chieftain abandon his body. But you use gentleness, and soft, sweet-smelling ways to bring him comfort and peace."

"Demons no more plague Ixzut'l than you or I," Blair said, his tone sharp with anger and unconscious authority when he realized Tex'chin had been deliberately torturing the man, albeit subtly. "Your Grand Chieftain was chosen because he has powerful senses, of sight and hearing, of touch and taste and smell. They no doubt made him a great warrior and defender of your people. But the senses can be irritated, causing pain. I have shown him how to control them better, but you and others can help by easing his environment."

She nodded thoughtfully and then, glancing at the others, she said, "You must all be tired and hungry. Come, I will show you to your chambers and we will bring you food and drink."

"Thank you for your kindness," Blair replied as he bowed his head in respectful gratitude. When she turned away, he signaled to the others to follow. "She's taking us to our chambers and will have food brought to us," he explained.

"That's nice," O'Neill muttered absently, his eyes narrowed as he studied Sandburg. The kid was full of surprises. He might seem little more than a teenager, with his wild, unkempt hair and wide innocent eyes, but he'd taken charge back in that chamber without conscious thought. And, he'd worked a minor miracle by the look of things. The last time they'd visited Ixlana, they hadn't been accorded the privilege of rooms in the palace. As they crossed the glossy wooden floor of the spacious waiting area, he loped a few steps to catch up with Sandburg and then said, "You did good in there, but, uh, what did you do, exactly?"

"The Grand Chieftain has very heightened senses which were out of control. He's not sick, but he was in a huge amount of pain. I eased that and showed him how to control his senses better, that's all," Blair replied matter-of-factly.

"That's all?" Jack echoed, his brows lifting. "What did he say to you when he grabbed your hand?"

"Well, uh," Blair hesitated and the others noticed a slight blush creep over his cheeks, "he called me 'shaman' and said I had powerful magic, that we were friends and he wants to get to know me better."

"Way to go, Sandburg!" O'Neill crowed as he slapped the younger man on the back. "'That's all,' he says," he added mockingly. "We're in!"

They had just crossed into the open palisade when Blair felt a jolt of pain lash through his body like a hot flame. He stumbled, lifting his hands to his head.

"Hey, are you all right?" Sam asked, hastening to give him a shoulder to lean on.

"I…yeah, I'm fine," he muttered as the pain washed away as if it had never been. "Just for a moment, it felt like fire was racing through me…"

Sandburg straightened and looked around. The hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end and he felt as if someone was watching him, but the palisade was high above the ground. The only building tall enough to give a vantage point was the Temple. Squinting into the bright light of the afternoon, Sandburg stared across the courtyard that separated the two edifices. "Tex'chin," he muttered to himself.

"You can see him from here?" Daniel asked, surprised as he followed Blair's gaze. Teal'c also looked across the wide intervening space and then back at Sandburg, a considering look in his eyes that turned to surprise when he heard Blair's response.

"No - I can feel him," Blair stated flatly and then turned to L'teel who was watching him with a worried look in her eyes. "I'm fine," he assured her so, after a slight hesitation, she turned to lead them back down the steps to the level below.

They were shown into an opulent suite that consisted of a large central lounge with smaller but still airy sleeping quarters opening from it. They each had their own private chamber with a couple left over, and yet another doorway led to a large communal bath area complete with indoor plumbing.

"This place is amazing," Sandburg muttered as he examined the facilities. Looking up at Daniel, he added, "This is beyond anything we've found in the ancient ruins. These people have evolved their engineering to an extraordinarily sophisticated level."

"Yes, they have," Jackson replied thoughtfully. "It only makes sense, though. They're an intelligent people and they've been here a long time. But - again, there are what I would call Minoan influences. Maybe there was some early contact?"

Scratching his cheek, Sandburg reflected, "The Minoans were accomplished sailors and their craft resemble that used more than a millennia later by the Polynesian peoples when they crossed the Pacific. I suppose it's quite possible that they could have crossed the Atlantic." He looked up at Daniel, his eyes glowing with excitement, "You know what this means, right? If we could make the links between these cultures back on Earth, it would revolutionize the way we look at both peoples!"

Jack overheard the conversation as he came to the doorway to tell them the food had arrived and shook his head. It never ceased to amaze him that such discoveries about long dead civilizations could get Daniel, and apparently his little buddy, so excited. "Chow's on," he told them, an amused glint in his eyes.

They all settled onto cushions around the low table, curiously eying the ceramic dishes loaded with unusual foods. There were raw fruits and vegetables, as well as cooked meats and something that resembled pita bread. The others recognized most of the offerings from their last trip, though this time the meal was presented with more style and flair with a variety of accompanying sauces and relishes.

"Most of the meats taste like either beef or chicken," Sam told Blair as she helped herself.

"And the fruits and vegetables are most flavourful," Teal'c offered, also digging in.

Sandburg grinned as he served himself generous portions - he was starving. "Well, lizard tastes like chicken, too, and fried locusts are very similar to corn chips."

"Eww, that's disgusting," Jack whined playfully as he grinned at the kid. At least Sandburg wasn't a complainer and he seemed comfortable eating whatever was put in front of him. The grin faded, however, as he asked with a gesture up toward the palisade above, "What did you mean that you could 'feel' old whatshisname?"

"Tex'chin," Blair mumbled around a full mouth. Swallowing, he suggested, "I think he was using magic."

"Magic?" O'Neill repeated. "Come on, you're kidding me, right?"

Teal'c looked up from his plate, listening intently, while Sam and Daniel exchanged hidden smiles of amusement at Jack's predictable reaction.

"No, I really think he used magic," Sandburg replied seriously. When Jack looked away, a profoundly skeptical look on his face, Blair continued, "I know, it sounds crazy. But so does going through a wormhole to another planet, or that a man can have such advanced senses of sight or hearing that he can read a shoulder insignia from a mile away, or hear the flap of a butterfly's wings. I mean, do you really know how the Stargate works? Maybe it's magic - it's as good an explanation as any for what we don't fully understand. In our modern world, we discount anything we can't objectively prove scientifically, but that doesn't mean that other realities, other powers, can't exist. In any case, the mind is a powerful instrument that can manipulate energy over time and space if you know how to do it. This Tex'chin is a powerful and dangerous shaman and may well be a sorcerer who can conjure up evil things."

"Soooo - you think he put a spell or something on the Chief?" Jack asked, cocking his head a little as he waited for the answer, thinking that this kid dropped into lecture mode as quickly as Daniel had a tendency to do.

"No, not at all," Sandburg replied, anger again tingeing his voice. "That was deliberate, very subtle, torture. Tex'chin obviously knows how to prey upon a sentinel's weaknesses. He had prescribed exactly the opposite of what Ixzut'l needed to bring his spiking senses under control. This is one scary guy, Jack. Don't take him lightly."

"But whether he's doing this to get control of the world for his own ends, or whether he's working on behalf of the Goa'uld isn't clear yet, is it?" Daniel mused.

"We have to get closer to him," Sam said then. "To see if he is a Goa'uld."

"You can tell by looking at someone?" Blair asked.

"Often, if they make their eyes glow," Sam replied. "But, I was once a host to a Tok'ra and that left me with the ability to sense the presence of a Goa'uld."

"Really?" Sandburg exclaimed, his brows lifting in sharp interest. "What was it like? I mean, to host a symbiote?"

Sam looked at Teal'c who nodded once and then said, "It depends upon whether the symbiotic is fully mature or not. I host a young symbiote, as it requires another body in which to develop. Occasionally, when in deep meditation, I have been able to sense its thoughts and feelings. A mature symbiote shares consciousness with the host, if it is a Tok'ra, as they do not treat their hosts as mere vessels. The Goa'uld, however, are arrogant and they use their mental powers to subjugate the host, taking full control of the mind and body."

Blair's lips had parted as he listened to Teal'c's explanation, for the first time realizing that the big man carried another intelligent being within him. "What will happen when your symbiote matures?"

"It will have to be destroyed as it is a Goa'uld," Teal'c replied darkly. "And I will need a new larva immediately, or I will die."

"What! Why?" Sandburg stammered.

"Because its union with my body provides my immune system, my own having been completely suppressed and destroyed by its presence," Teal'c explained patiently. "It also gives me more physical strength and stamina, but without it my body is greatly weakened."

His appetite gone, Sandburg set his plate aside. "So - that's how they enslaved your people and made you dependent upon them," he murmured, disgusted by the way the Goa'uld preyed upon their victims.

"It is how they enslave them still," Teal'c replied, sadness and anger mingled in his eyes.

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

Ellison rented a car at the Denver airport and, cursing his sore leg, he found he had to drive more slowly than was his wont because the stiffness did a real number on his ability to react quickly and reflexively. Arriving in Colorado Springs in late afternoon, he went first to Jackson's apartment, just in case someone was home. But the apartment was dark and silent; he could tell it was unoccupied from the street below.

His jaw tight as he battled a combination of pain, fatigue and anxiety, he headed out of town and up the mountain to the entrance of the military installation. Outside the electrified gate was a small parking area for visitors where Jim locked and left the rental vehicle. Leaving his cane in the vehicle, as he didn't want to give anyone any reason to suggest he wasn't 'fit' to go into the field after Sandburg, and trying not to limp too obviously, he approached the gate, his gaze taking in the line of the fence and the well-guarded opening into the mountain beyond. An Air Force corporal stepped out of the gatehouse to meet him, courteous but also wary in her demeanor.

"Can I help you, sir?" she asked.

"My name is Jim Ellison. I'm here to see General Hammond," he replied without expression.

"Is he expecting you, Mr. Ellison?" she enquired, knowing there was no such name on her list of approved visitors for the day.

"No, I don't think so," Ellison replied, unfazed. "Tell him I served in the same unit as Jack O'Neill in Covert Operations and that I'm here about Blair Sandburg. I'm pretty sure he'll see me."

"If you would wait a moment, sir, I'll call his office."

A few moments later, she emerged again from the small gatehouse and motioned him forward as the gate swung open. Another corporal approached from the tunnel entrance. "Makins, please escort Mr. Ellison to General Hammond's office."

Jim followed the young man into the tunnel, through another checkpoint and then into an elevator. They descended rapidly down through several levels and Ellison swallowed against the slight pressure in his ears. Then, they walked through a maze of corridors until the Corporal rapped smartly on a door and, when permission to enter was given, showed Jim inside.

General Hammond rose from behind his desk to wave Ellison to a seat.

"General, thank you for agreeing to see me, sir," Jim acknowledged as he sank gratefully into the padded chair, though his carefully controlled expression betrayed nothing of his relief.

"Detective Ellison, I wasn't expecting you, though in retrospect, perhaps I should have," Hammond replied as he too sat down and studied the tall man across from him. "What can I do for you?"

Jim noticed the designate 'detective', though he'd not identified himself as a police officer, but he wasn't really surprised. They would have done a thorough backgrounder on Sandburg before offering him the job. "You obviously know who I am," he began. Hammond nodded, and Ellison continued, "I'm worried about Blair Sandburg. With all respect, sir, I don't think he had a clue about what this job was really about when he came out here."

"That may be so," Hammond replied neutrally, "but he was thoroughly briefed on arrival and has accepted the position we offered. There's no need for you to be concerned on his behalf."

"What kind of Air Force project hidden away in the middle of mountain, in an old missile silo, requires the skills and abilities of an anthropologist?" Jim asked bluntly.

"I'm sorry, but that's classified information, Detective," the older man replied blandly. "I'm sure that, with your own military background, you understand what that means."

"General, you tricked him and misrepresented his duties when he was offered this job," Ellison argued.

"How so?"

"He believed he was joining a project to study the impact of myth and legend on current societies," Jim replied, his voice tight with control. "Not likely something the Air Force would be engaged with."

"You might be surprised at the breadth of our interests," Hammond replied calmly, a slight smile on his lips.

This was getting him nowhere and Jim knew it. The General could stonewall him into the next week if he so desired, or have him forcibly ejected at will. He stared at the older man for a long moment while he weighed his options and decided he didn't have many - and hiding what he was, was probably a waste of time. Ellison rubbed the back of his neck and then sat a little straighter, unconsciously assuming a military posture. "Sir, we've never met before, but your reputation is that of a fair-minded, ethical, trustworthy man."

"Thank you," Hammond replied, wondering why Ellison had come looking for Sandburg.

Licking his lips, Jim continued, "I have reason to believe that Blair is in some kind of danger."

Hammond shifted a little in his chair, pursing his lips as he leaned back and shook his head. "I have no such knowledge," he hedged. "What reason, specifically?"

Jim scratched his cheek, his eyes roaming the ceiling before coming back to meet the General's steady gaze. "General, I'm assuming you're aware of Sandburg's dissertation."

"I am," Hammond allowed.

"And you suspect it contained accurate information notwithstanding his recent public disavowal of the paper?"

Hammond sighed and leaned forward, clasping his hands on the top of the desk. "Detective, let's stop fencing, shall we? Yes, I believe you are a sentinel, a man with extraordinary sensory gifts. Let me assure you, however, that our interest is in Mr. Sandburg's academic and personal qualifications; his work here has nothing to do with you. But, you are obviously very worried about him and I'd like to know if you have any specific reasons for your concern or whether you simply suspect your nation's military of acting for nefarious purposes."

'Well, that was blunt,' Jim thought as he chewed on his cheek. His senses told him that Hammond was telling him the truth, but that still didn't explain why they had sought out Sandburg. Everything he knew about Hammond suggested that he was a man who valued candour and could be trusted unquestionably to act with decency and honour. Taking a deep breath, Jim made his decision. "Okay, I know this is going to sound, well, crazy, but being a sentinel includes more than sensory advantages," he began, his voice flat and resigned. "I, uh, see spirit guides, mine and Sandburg's and on one other occasion, another sentinel's. Last night, around three AM your time, my spirit guide, a black jaguar, appeared in my apartment and behaved oddly, as if it was wounded. It led me to Sandburg's room, jumped on his bed and then disappeared. I later learned that Blair had called my boss for personal reasons concerning a job offer the Cascade Police had made him, but also indicated that he was leaving on a field trip immediately - that call was shortly before the jaguar appeared to me. It's my belief that this trip puts Sandburg in grave danger. I'd like to know where he is because it's my job to protect him. He's my Guide."

"I see," Hammond murmured, frowning in thought. It was a wild story, but so was the idea of mini-dragons taking over human beings as hosts. It was the General's turn to chew on his inner lip, his fingers tapping unconsciously on the desk as he pondered Ellison's revelation. "Detective Ellison, it's true that this assignment is not without its risks. However, Mr. Sandburg was accompanied by my best team, which is led by Colonel Jack O'Neill, who I've been told you know. I can assure you that Jack will let no harm come to your Guide."

"Where is he, General?" Jim pressed.

"I'm sorry," Hammond replied, looking honestly regretful, "but I can't tell you that."

"Dammit," Jim cursed softly as he stood to pace the office, grimacing at the ache in his leg. But his attention was caught just then by distant thudding sounds. Cocking his head unconsciously, he narrowed his eyes in concentration as he strained to hear more. Distantly, he could make out, "Incoming off-world signal. SG15's signal is verified. Open the iris."

Off-world?

Spinning around, Jim gaped at the General in astonished understanding. "He's not on this planet anymore, is he?"

"I beg your pardon?" Hammond replied, pretending innocence.

"I just heard someone say, 'Incoming off-world signal. SG15's signal verified. Open the iris,' Jim replied, a look of incredulity on his face. "You've found a way to travel to other planets. That's it, isn't it? And you needed an anthropologist to help understand the alien cultures…"

Hammond looked away, shaking his head bemusedly. "I should never have allowed you into the facility. Your senses are more powerful than I imagined," he said ruefully. Turning back to Ellison, he continued, "Only a few hours ago, I told Mr. Sandburg I'd welcome someone with your talents on my team. I'm sorry, Detective Ellison, but only the people who work here, my superiors and those who support them are privy to the details of our activities. Mr. Sandburg is in good hands. The best. When he returns, I'll have him call you immediately to reassure you of his wellbeing. For now, you may as well just go home."

"I'm not leaving here until I see Sandburg," Jim stated unequivocally. "Don't force me to make threats, General - I don't want to do that, and you don't need the hassle of media attention."

"Detective, you could threaten me till the cows come home but it wouldn't make a whit of difference," Hammond replied, a note of steel coming into his voice and glinting from his eyes. Leaning forward, he continued, "Let me assure you, my people checked you out as thoroughly as they screened Mr. Sandburg. And you know what they learned? You, sir, are a brave and an honourable man. You are loyal, even devoted, to your country and you would do nothing to willfully prejudice efforts to ensure its security. So, I don't believe your threats, Detective. If I did, I'd have you tossed in the brig for national security reasons. Please don't force me to change my mind."

There was a reason this man was a general and had earned the reputation he enjoyed, Jim reflected wearily. He swallowed and his shoulders slumped, only too well aware he couldn't fight the battle on this level. God, he was helpless unless he could convince Hammond to let him go after Sandburg. Jim's feeling of desperation was very real and he didn't dare ignore the warning the jag had given him. But how the hell could he find Sandburg, help him, if he wasn't even somewhere on Earth? Blair's life could depend upon what was decided now, in this room.

Frustrated, Jim was wondering what he could say or do next when he froze at the sound of a cat's snarling yowl.

Hammond frowned at how Ellison froze, and his sudden pallor. Rising in concern, he moved rapidly around the desk to take Jim's arm and draw him back