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Passages of Time part 6

Passages of Time - Part Six:

When Daniel finally arrived at the main entrance to the base, he
sauntered up to the security desk and waited for the duty officer to
complete his telephone conversation. He glanced around idly, staring at
the two monitors that transmitted back pictures from outside the lobby
elevators and the eleventh floor corridor.

The guard completed his morning report to his superior and replaced the
handset. Looking up, he recognised Daniel and smiled at the personable
young man who always had a friendly greeting for the security staff each
morning, "Doctor Jackson! What can I do for you?"

"Hello Harry, I wondered if you'd seen Colonel O'Neill since he signed
in?"

"No, Sir. He went down in the elevator awhile back. I did see him on the
monitor, waiting on sub level eleven, but then I got distracted, I
assume he carried on down." The older man glanced at him curiously,
"Something wrong?"

"No, I must have just missed him," Daniel assured him, "I guess I'll
head back down to my office and call around, see if I can track him
down."

The duty officer regarded him thoughtfully for a moment, "If it's any
help, I can bring up the other security cameras from here. We could
check the lower levels for him."

"Thanks anyway Harry, but it's not that important. So long as he's in
there somewhere, I'll find him," Daniel smiled gratefully. "But if he
does come back up without me, can you call me again?"

The security man nodded, watching curiously as the young man wandered
away, heading back around the corner to the bank of elevators with a
seemingly perpetual frown on his face. Harry wondered for the umpteenth
time in recent weeks just what was going on with that team. None of them
appeared to be quite themselves lately and today was the first time he'd
seen the Colonel in weeks, even then he looked a shadow of his former
self.

And goodness only knew what had happened to his hand! From such an
excess of plaster, Harry knew it wasn't a simple broken finger. And his
gun hand at that! The Colonel certainly wasn't telling, he'd remained
tight lipped throughout the whole conversation when Harry had signed him
in not long ago, definitely nothing like his normal sardonic
personality.

Now nearing retirement, Harry often reflected upon his many years
working security for the military, most of that time spent at Cheyenne
Mountain. He had rarely encountered a more courageous group of people
than those working on the front line of the SGC. Being at the main desk
he heard all the stories, even allowing for rumour and exaggeration. He
knew that particular team had saved the lives of many on the base
countless times, not to mention every person on this planet. And yet
now....... well he had never seen such an obviously troubled and
distracted set of people. It even seemed to be effecting the General
himself, and Hammond could usually be relied upon to live up to the
classic image of hard nosed career military, at least in public.

Harry glanced sideways at the screens monitoring the exterior of the
elevators. Doctor Jackson was still waiting, pacing up and down
impatiently. The doors eventually opened and he stepped inside, just as
the telephone rang at the security desk and Harry immersed himself back
into his daily routine.

~~~~~~~~~~

"It's good to see you again, Colonel," the bulky Slav smiled
sadistically at the defenceless man, recalling their last encounter with
satisfied glee as he closed and locked the office door behind him,
before producing his favourite handgun from beneath his uniform jacket.

The career soldier in O'Neill vaguely identified the weapon as a Czech
made CZ75, about as popular a choice for Eastern Europeans as the
Beretta was for anyone trained in the American military. Jack stared at
it silently, his throat constricting as he tried to swallow, attempting
to keep his face blank, to not reveal his fear as his nightmare came
true. The Slav gestured him to move and Jack stood slowly and painfully,
backing away until he felt the concrete hardness of the far wall against
his spine.

He blinked rapidly, wishing this was just some vivid and agonising
hallucination. The doctor had warned of possible long term effects of
the LSD he had been injected with, the chance of renewed flashbacks
later in life. Maybe this vision was just one of those instances. Yet
somehow Jack was unsurprised at the sight of this man, his nightmares
had become increasingly ever present, they almost foretold a renewed
encounter with the Slav. Every time he closed his eyes Jack saw one of
his tormentors leering over him, it had only been a question of time. If
only he had been more prepared for the inevitable.

"How did you get in here?" Jack finally found his voice, dimly wondering
just how badly security had deteriorated since he was last at the SGC.

"It pays to have friends in high places," the Slav said simply, "And
this one in particular has given me a job to do. One which I might add
will be a pleasure to complete." The Slav lowered a canvas tool bag from
his shoulder and dropped it onto the desk, fishing inside to withdraw an
instantly recognisable rectangular shape with a digital readout
attached.

Jack paled at the sight of the high explosive charge. "What are you
going to do with that?" He asked in a strangled whisper.

"Them, actually!" The man gave a snort of laughter, "I've already
planted the rest. You know what they say about the early bird, Colonel?
Well your colleagues will be the worms!"

"Why?" Jack's mind raced, fighting overpowering images of his last
encounter with this malevolent man, to think clearly through the fog,
trying to understand what was happening.

"Well, since Mr Marshall failed in his attempts to get the Stargate
program rehoused, my employer decided to settle for a nice little act of
terrorism, initiated by a mentally disturbed member of the SGC's best
team." He pointed towards Jack, "That would be you, Colonel." He
finished setting the timer and crouched down beneath the desk, keeping
his 9mm trained on Jack as he secreted the C4 charge in the space
between the drawers and the wooden back panel.

"You'll never get away with this," Jack's voice sounded feeble to his
own ears.

"Oh, but I already have," the Slav stood up with a smile, enjoying every
minute of his task, "The explosives were signed out of the armoury in
your name, Colonel. Noone can argue with the unreadable signature of a
man who has lost the use of his writing hand!" He grinned widely,
revealing a row of brilliant white teeth, "And I've already placed the
other charges."

Jack licked his lips nervously. "Where?" He asked, stalling for time as
he tried to focus on a way out of this trap, never expecting such a
detailed answer in return, but the Slav obviously wanted to gloat.

"Oh, here and there, you know. One in the General's office, the
infirmary, your friend Doctor Jackson's research lab, the control room,
a few in the briefing room. You know it's truly amazing how the right
attitude and a current badge pass can render even someone as impressive
as myself completely invisible to the general populace. People can be so
trusting of a telephone technician with the right papers! Even your
security cameras hide more than they can see and, when the time is
right, all will be revealed!" He laughed maliciously.

"A little over twenty four hours from now, the first bombs will explode
at a time that is guaranteed to eliminate at least a few annoying
members of staff and ensure that the project is immediately relocated to
a more secure environment," the Slav declared smugly. "It will be a
wonderful display of military pyrotechnics, that will echo deep in the
bowels of Cheyenne Mountain for at least two days."

"Why wait until tomorrow?" Jack asked, gaining some hope from the fact
that anything could happen in one day.

"We have to ensure all the pieces are in place. That includes you, my
dear Colonel," he leered. "By then, you will be dead and your suicide
note explaining why you decided to decimate your own team, your own
friends, will have been completed."

It didn't seem possible for Jack to turn even more pale, but somehow he
did. His voice was wary as he was impelled to ask one more question,
"And why would I do something like that?"

"Oh, the mentally deranged act in extremely mysterious ways sometimes.
Don't worry, Colonel, your reasons will be convincing enough," he smiled
sadistically, "After all with the hearing looming on Friday, it won't be
difficult for people to believe that you simply could not take the
strain any longer.

Well that explained some things, Jack thought to himself, trying to
focus past his fear and concentrate on understanding the situation.
Obviously someone didn't want him to make it to the hearing. How ironic,
Jack thought to himself, didn't they realise he didn't even want to
testify!

Still, at least this man wasn't simply out for revenge. Jack almost
snorted at that ridiculous thought. Revenge for what, Jack? It's not
like you defeated the guy or anything! He beat the crap out of you,
remember, he thought soberly.

Who could he possibly hurt by testifying at the closed Senate hearing?
Marshall and the Russian were already dead. The leader of the Cairo
mafia gang had already been convicted and jailed, Egyptian justice moved
swiftly. The electrician had quickly joined him, leaving the Slav to be
extradited to the United States because he was the only non-Egyptian
resident left alive who may provide vital clues to what had taken place.
So how did this guy escape without at least General Hammond hearing
about it? And who was he taking his orders from? It could only be the
Senator, but Jack didn't even know who that was, how could he be a
danger to the man?

The Slav regarded the confused look on the Colonel's face. He was really
going to enjoy completing his work for the Senator this time. He almost
didn't need to be paid all that money to carry out this task, almost.
Now he only had one tricky manoeuvre left and he would be home free. He
waved his CZ75 in the Colonel's direction. "Now, you and I are going to
leave this base in an orderly fashion."

Jack silently regarded the man, pushing his hand into a pocket and
forcing himself to relax casually against the wall, boldly challenging
the Slav's overconfidence in a gesture that said 'no way, I'm not going
anywhere'.

"How easy you make this depends on where your loyalties lie," the bulky
man leered knowingly at the flicker of concern that crossed O'Neill's
face.

Withdrawing a small electronic transmitter from the canvas bag, the Slav
tuned the dial to the correct frequency. "As you well know, there are
other methods to detonate these charges apart from simply awaiting the
passage of time. And there is one I would particularly enjoy witnessing,
if you would care to oblige."

"Where?" Jack asked hoarsely, feeling himself being drawn inexorably
back into the game.

"See for yourself." The Slav put the transmitter down gently and bent to
retrieve the telephone that was still lying on the floor where the
Colonel had dropped it. Setting it in place back on the desk, he lifted
the receiver and listened for a moment, checking it was still working.
Gesturing towards O'Neill, he held his hand tightly over the mouthpiece.
"Dial two, two, two, one. I think you'll recognise the extension."

Jack silently regarded the man, keeping his face a blank mask, but his
heart sank. He knew immediately what office that number would ring in.

The Slav shifted the hand still holding his semiautomatic across to the
desk, letting his little finger waver deliberately over a red button on
the transmitter. He shook the telephone handset in his direction, more
threateningly this time. Reluctantly Jack did as he was ordered, moving
away from the far wall to dial the number. With the receiver being held
near to his ear, Jack prayed there would be no answer, but the call was
picked up quickly. A bright female voice said, "Doctor Fraiser
speaking!"

The Slav quickly pulled the receiver away from the Colonel and replaced
it with an abrupt click. He picked up the transmitter. "One touch of
this button and the good doctor will be no more. Sufficient retribution
for a bullet in the leg, don't you think?" He smiled cruelly, knowing
that he had the Colonel snared once more. "Unless of course you would
prefer to join me on a journey out of this mountain."

Jack swallowed dryly, his mind racing, trying to estimate how far such a
transmitter could reach through the concrete floors of this deep
mountain structure. From here to Janet's office was way too close, but
what about higher up, before they reached the main entrance? Maybe there
was still a chance to escape. Jack nodded slowly, "I guess I could use
the fresh air," he said grimly.

~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow the journey back out of the mountain didn't seem nearly so
daunting, especially not with a 9mm semiautomatic pressed into Jack's
left side through the pocket of the Slav's uniform jacket. It dug
painfully against his fractured rib anytime his step faltered, in a way
that had to be on purpose. Jack gritted his teeth, fervently wishing
that some time soon he would get an opportunity to finally give back
some of what he had endured from this man.

Jack was escorted down the corridor to the elevator, the large bald
headed man remaining close enough to control the situation without being
obvious, a facade necessitated by the ever present security cameras. The
Colonel was well aware that the man's finger was hovering over the
button of the transmitter secreted in his other pocket, so he attempted
to look as casual as possible. He studiously ignored anyone that
happened to be passing, relieved that his lack of uniform meant there
would be no salutes to acknowledge along the way. He simply stared ahead
as they neared the elevator up to sub level eleven, unsure whether he
was more nervous of the ride up in that tiny car or of what might
follow.

Knowing what this man was capable of, Jack really didn't want anyone
else's blood on his hands. He had to find a way out of this situation
that would avoid injuring innocent bystanders, even if that meant going
all the way out of the mountain without trying anything. He was
reluctant to admit to himself, but right now Jack valued the lives of
everyone in the SGC over his own. Even so, somehow he needed to survive
long enough to tell someone about the explosive charges.

An elevator finally arrived and the Slav nudged Jack towards it, into
the back of the car where they could watch any other passengers come and
go. The journey seemed to take forever and Jack forced himself to focus
inward, away from the close walls. His best chance would be in the
second trip up to the surface from the eleventh floor, especially if the
car was empty. He was almost certain the transmitter wouldn't work from
that far away. Almost! Jack, are you sure you can afford to play with
Janet's life like that? Well if he didn't do something, his friends
would all go up in one big explosion in twenty four hours anyway. He had
to try.

The doors on the eleventh level opened and Jack moved forward
unprompted, striding along the corridor, determinedly ignoring all the
images this hallway conjured up. At the second bank of elevators, he
pressed the call button and glanced up at the digital readout with a
feeling of reverse deja vu. This time the car seemed to arrive much
faster and Jack couldn't help notice the irony in the fact that it
seemed so much quicker to leave the base than it had been to enter.

~~~~~~~~~~

At the main entrance to Cheyenne Mountain, Harry was still sitting at
the security desk, it was the quiet mid morning lull, a time for him to
catch up on paperwork and reflection. He stared idly at the monitors and
noticed Colonel O'Neill standing outside the elevator bank on the
eleventh floor. There was another man with him, whom Harry didn't
recognise, but Doctor Jackson was nowhere in sight.

Reaching for the phone, he dialled an extension from memory, after all
these years, he pretty much knew the number for any of the offices deep
within the base. Numbers had always been his thing, he could recite
baseball scores and important historical dates for hours if so prompted.
The call was picked up quickly, "Doctor Jackson? It's Harry at the main
desk. Did you find Colonel O'Neill, because it looks like he's on his
way back up from the eleventh floor at the moment." He listened to the
younger man's response before finishing, "Yes, certainly. I'll try to
stall him for you. No problem."

~~~~~~~~~~

Down in the lower levels, Daniel Jackson flew out of his lab and down
the corridor, punching the button on the elevator several times
impatiently. He glanced up at the readout to see the car was nowhere
near his floor. "Damn!" Without a second thought, he turned away and
headed for the stairs, glad for all the exercise he'd had lately
climbing up and down them. He could easily make it to sub level eleven
faster than the elevator would manage.

~~~~~~~~~~

Stepping into the empty car, the Slav pushed Jack into the far corner
and selected the button for ground level, then he pulled the transmitter
from his pocket. "In case you're having any ideas, Colonel, you should
know that I also planted a charge at the main security desk. The
transmitter may not reach all the way from here to the good doctor's
office, but it will certainly set off the one at ground level. Of
course, you may not actually care what happens to the people that work
up there, in which case I'll be only too pleased to dispose of them for
you." He switched the dial to a new frequency and allowed his finger to
waver over the button menacingly, "You know how it is with explosives,
the bombers always yearn to view the results of their handiwork!"

Jack stared at him numbly, he was really beginning to hate this game and
he couldn't help wondering what would have happened if he'd simply gone
with his first instinct that morning and headed for a liquor store
instead. Was he ever going to get the better of his tormentors or should
he just give up trying? Okay, bad idea Jack, remember it's not just your
life at stake this time, somehow you've single handedly endangered the
lives of all your friends and everyone else on this base.

Narrowing his wandering thoughts, Jack tried to concentrate on the
matter at hand. There had to be a way out of this that was safe for
everybody in the mountain. He glanced up at the opposite corner, there
was a security camera inside each of the elevators, monitored from a
dimly lit room with wall to wall screens displaying multiple views from
all over the base. He had tried watching them once, but his eyes had
started to cross after about three seconds, it never ceased to amaze
Jack that the security guards could sit and stare at those displays for
hours and rarely miss a trick. He could only hope one of them was
watching now.

Waiting until the Slav was distracted, staring at the changing digital
display panel by the door, Jack looked directly at the camera and
mouthed one simple word. Bomb! His jaw snapped shut rapidly when the
Slav glanced at him, almost as if sensing he was up to something. Jack
slouched back into the corner casually and stared at the transmitter
almost hidden in the man's overly large but lethal hand.

"So," he took a slow breath and attempted to relax the tension
constricting his voice, "Do I get to know who it is that wants me dead?
Or am I supposed to die blissfully ignorant?"

The Slav smiled at the question, "I believe the latter would be more
appropriate. After all, it seems like the ultimate failure, for you to
die without knowing why!"

Jack's anger at the situation boiled over explosively. He launched
himself off the back wall of the car and lunged towards the gloating
man, but the Slav simply stepped aside and turned. With his hands full,
he brought his right foot up sharply to impact the Colonel's left side,
in a solid kick. Jack was propelled back into the metal wall of the
lift, banging his shoulder and trying to stay on his feet. The pain
flaring in his ribs was excruciating and he fought a wave of sickening
dizziness, desperate to avoid blacking out. He leaned against the wall,
eyes tightly shut as the blood roared in his head. His chest heaved,
gasping for air.

Nice move, Jack, he berated himself furiously, let the guy know all your
weak spots up front, why don't you! Anyone would think you didn't want
to come out of this in one piece! Jack's rasping breath caught in his
throat at that thought, surely noone could expect him to just keep
trying? How many times did he have to get beaten before he was allowed
to give up? How many times before he allowed himself to give up?

The truth suddenly dawned on him and the realisation was almost a shock.
He did want to come out of this alive! He had come this far, been
through so much, he refused to die a failure. He was too stubborn for
that. And after all that had happened, how could anything he now faced
be worse? Somehow he would find a way to win.

Jack shook his head, trying to focus beyond the pain in his side. A
malevolent voice reached his ears, "You really shouldn't push your luck,
Colonel. Don't you realise how itchy my finger gets around explosives?
You can only push temptation so far before I will gladly give in and hit
this button!"

Jack tilted his head sideways slightly, noticing that the digital panel
indicated they had just passed the first level, soon they might be close
enough to be hit by the explosion. He glared at the smiling man,
deciding to test his true intentions by calling his bluff, silently
praying that it was a bluff, "Then why don't you just do it, now that
you have a front row seat?" He taunted.

"But the game is only just beginning, Colonel. It would be a shame to
end it so soon!"

Jack didn't know whether to be hopeful because the Slav had passed on
the opportunity, or fearful because of what else he had in store.

With an effort, Jack pushed himself upright, sadistic laughter ringing
in his ears as the elevator car finally came to a halt. The doors opened
and the Slav's expression became all business again. He gestured for
O'Neill to move out and put his hand back into his pocket, concealing
the transmitter in the same way as his 9mm semiautomatic, still trained
directly at the Colonel's side.

Together they emerged into the lobby area and walked towards the double
layer of doors which led out to the visitor parking spaces inside the
tunnel. The automatic inner doors, made of glass, served to maintain a
constant ambient temperature inside the lobby, whilst the outer vault
like door, a huge inches thick block of titanium, was used to seal up
the mountain during times of crisis, but ordinarily remained open.

"Colonel O'Neill, wait!" A voice shouted from the security desk,
bringing Jack to a sudden halt. He hesitated, not knowing what to do,
but the Slav knocked the barrel of his handgun against Jack's side
nudging him towards the exit.

Jack heard the sound of footsteps coming up behind them, "Colonel
O'Neill! Doctor Jackson wanted to see you before you left," the voice
said more urgently. As Harry drew closer, Jack tried to think fast, he
could sense the Slav tensing beside him, the gun's aim beginning to
slide away from him, in the direction of the approaching figure. If he
didn't do something, the Slav was liable to simply turn and shoot.

Stopping a few feet away from the door, Jack turned around, drifting
across in front of the Slav's right arm to block his line of fire. "It's
okay, Harry, I saw Daniel downstairs. I'm going to meet him later on, I
just have to go out for awhile," he smiled as genuinely as possible. The
security guard nodded, a slight frown on his face as he regarded the
Colonel curiously, then he shrugged and headed back to the front desk.

Jack expelled the breath he hadn't realised he was holding, then he
turned back towards the exit and stepped forward once more. Reaching the
pressure pad for the automatic doors, he was almost relieved when they
opened with a whoosh, a cold breeze drifting in from the tunnel outside
to mix with the air conditioned interior.

At the security desk, Harry was about to settle back into his chair,
when he glanced at the monitors and saw the black and white image of
Doctor Jackson stepping from the lift that had just arrived at the
ground floor. Realising something was amiss, Harry hurried out from
behind the desk again, crossing the few yards around the corner to where
Daniel was just appearing. The younger man looked hot and harried after
his race up umpteen flights of stairs before he had been lucky enough to
catch a waiting elevator at the eleventh floor.

"Doctor Jackson!" Harry exclaimed loudly, pointing in the direction of
Jack who was about to step through the doors into the tunnel.

Jack froze when he heard the name, turning fearfully to look behind him.
It seemed like the whole world slowed down as he caught the look on the
Slav's face. He saw the hand withdraw from the pocket, the transmitter
still tightly held, an index finger hovering purposefully over the
button.

"Daniel!" Jack screamed a warning, shoving his whole body against the
larger man beside him. But the attempt to push him off balance and knock
the transmitter from his hand was like moving a mountain, the
heavyweight barely budged. Instead, widening his stance, the Slav lifted
his right hand from his pocket, still gripping his 9mm. He quickly
wrapped his arm around O'Neill's neck in a choking stranglehold, pulling
hard against his larynx to drag the floundering Colonel backwards on his
heels out through the open doors.

Jack gasped for air under the suffocating constriction, digging at the
arm with his fingers, trying to pry the hold free as he went bright
crimson and everything began to swim around him.

The Slav raised his other hand, in front of Jack's face to make a
dramatic show of his finger depressing the red button on the
transmitter. Jack couldn't even shout a warning, he had no breath left
to expel.

It was timed perfectly, the doors closing several yards in front of them
as the blinding flash of light bloomed. The glass shattered and then the
sound of the explosion impacted Jack's ears, painfully loud. He felt the
heat of the shock wave as he was pulled towards the parked vehicles in
front of the main entrance. The last thing Jack saw before he passed out
from asphyxiation was the sight of Daniel and the security guard
engulfed by fire in the midst of the explosion.

~~~~~~~~~~

By the time Jack came round, he was trapped inside a speeding jeep. He
could feel the wind whistling past his numb ears, hearing nothing but
ringing and the blood roaring in his head. The open vehicle was swiftly
negotiating the twists and turns down the mountainside. He tried to sit
up from his slumped sideways position, finding his left wrist was
manacled to the roll bar behind the seat. The bright sunlight hurt his
blast sensitised eyes as he tried to open them.

The Slav was driving, a grim look of concentration on his face as he
whipped the steering wheel around the hairpin bends as fast as he dared.
Vaguely Jack wondered how they had got past the security at the gate,
but then he realised perhaps he was better off not knowing.

The vehicle bounced around another curve and pain flared in Jack's side
at the crunching vibration. He gasped, struggling to swallow against the
bruising in his throat. The final image of Daniel pushed to the
forefront of his dazed mind, the vision of his friend being engulfed by
fire imprinted on his retinas. Jack screwed his eyes tightly shut, tears
pricking his sore eyelids. Desperately he fought back his grief, needing
to turn it into something useful. There was no time for sorrow, not yet.
He had to get revenge, even if it was the last thing he did.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of the explosion was still echoing around the mountain when
the first members of the security team burst out of the emergency exit
twenty yards outside the tunnel. As they hurriedly approached the scene,
the sergeant in charge made a rapid assessment of the situation. The
sprinkler system had kicked in automatically, extinguishing any fires
that might endanger personnel on the levels directly below.

He wondered how many people were in the vicinity at the time of the
explosion, knowing there had to be at least one. Harry had been the duty
officer as usual, everybody liked the friendly man, he had been here so
long he was practically a part of the furniture. The sergeant could only
hope he hadn't been caught in the blast.

They moved into the damage zone, shattered glass crunching beneath boots
as they began to search the rubble. "Over here!" One of his men suddenly
shouted, holding a hand high to indicate his position. Buried beneath
the expansive fronds of several large potted palm trees toppled by the
blast, lay two unmoving figures. Harry's dark blue security uniform was
clearly identifiable despite the brick dust and debris, he was partially
covering another body that was too obscured to recognise.

Stooping down beside the victims, the sergeant checked each body for a
pulse, before pulling his radio from his belt. "Chapman, here. Where are
those paramedics? Send them out the emergency exit, we've got two men
injured. We'll continue to search for others, but looks clear at the
moment."

Daniel Jackson gradually drifted down to the land of the living, his
thoughts hazy and undefined. He knew he had been about to say something
important, but he couldn't recall what, nor could he remember what had
stopped him. He shifted slightly, feeling a weight atop his back and
legs slowly being removed.

Someone grasped his shoulder, shaking him gently. "Doctor Jackson?" A
voice he did not recognise pushed into his dazed thoughts, trying to be
heard above the ringing in his ears. "Can you move? Where does it hurt?"

Daniel's eyelids fluttered, increasing to a rapid blink as he forced
them open, attempting to focus, but all he could see was the negative
image of a blinding white flash. Lifting a shaking hand to his face, he
felt for his glasses, they had slipped askew, still hanging twisted
around the back of one ear. He fumbled them back onto his face and tried
to peer through them, squinting myopically against the light.

"How do you feel, Doctor Jackson?" The voice persisted, attempting to
pierce the fog. He felt a hand on his arm helping him to sit up. Daniel
groaned, coughing painfully as he felt the bruises of his heavy landing.
A hand reached across in front of him, probing his chest and abdomen,
"Any ribs broken?"

Ribs broken? That rang a bell, Daniel thought vaguely, still trying to
remember what he had been about to say. Suddenly his eyes opened wide
and alert and he scrambled to stand up, pushing away from the person
beside him. "Jack!" He exclaimed frantically, then the altitude hit him
and his vision swam violently, blood roaring in his head.

"Doctor Jackson!" The paramedic placed an arm around his waist, holding
him steady until the dizziness passed. "You really should sit down, Sir.
Let us finish checking you over."

"No, I have to find Jack!" Daniel said, noticing the sound of his own
voice for the first time as the ringing finally faded and his ears
popped, returning his hearing to normal. His senses slowly recovering,
he glanced around, gazing at the state of the main entrance lobby,
decimated by a single explosive charge. "What happened?" He asked in
astonishment.

"We were hoping you could tell us that," a new voice joined the first
one and Daniel turned to see a staff sergeant, presumably the leader of
the security detail currently sifting through the wreckage of the
building.

Daniel's eyes fell on another paramedic who was looking after the other
victim. "Is Harry going to be all right?" He asked with concern, whilst
he thought about the sergeant's question.

"Hope so! He's got some shrapnel wounds, cuts and bruises and a bang on
the head, but I think you were both extremely lucky. Looks like the
reception desk was the centre of the blast. If Harry hadn't been
standing with you, he'd probably be dead right now," Chapman shook his
head in disgust. He knew that somehow there had been a major breach of
security here today, it would be his job to determine how and who was to
blame. If he wasn't careful, it could be his head on the block over the
incident. "Do you remember seeing anything suspicious before the
explosion?"

Daniel opened his mouth to speak, but before he got a chance another
voice shouted from outside the main entrance. "Sergeant Chapman! We've
got another report coming in, gunfire at the main gate! We haven't been
able to raise the guards on the radio!"

The sergeant ran outside into the tunnel and Daniel followed, unsure of
what he was planning to do until he found himself striding rapidly
towards the parking lot and his car, jamming his hand into his pocket to
dig for his keys. His vehicle was parked way over on the far side, the
closest space he could find when he had arrived late that morning,
exhausted after a difficult weekend with Jack spent trying to ensure he
didn't drink, but that he did eat and sleep for a change. Daniel's own
attempts to doze had been frequently disrupted by harrowing screams from
the depths of his friend's nightmares.

To top it all, Jack had thrown him out the previous evening, told him to
go home and get some rest, he would meet Daniel at the base and not
before. Trust him, he'd be fine, Jack had said. "Shit!" Daniel exclaimed
uncharacteristically, finally reaching his vehicle, his hand still
shaking from the shock of the blast as he tried to insert his car keys
into the lock.

~~~~~~~~~~

The bank of elevators leading up to the main entrance was undamaged by
the explosion around the corner, but the sight that met Doctor Fraiser
and General Hammond as they hurriedly stepped from the car was shocking.
A few yards away was the edge of the blast zone, a ring of destruction
spreading out from the security desk, only broken when it met with a
more immovable force, the concrete walls behind the desk and in the
corridor to the elevators.

The room was strewn with shattered glass and paper, plaster dust and
pieces of furniture, the lobby chairs and potted plants. As the
reception area for all visitors to the base, it was the only place the
military had expended any money on niceties, all now part of the debris.

Doctor Fraiser got straight to work on Harry, taking a report from the
paramedic who had been first on the scene as they lifted the patient
onto a gurney which had been brought up in the elevator. The security
officer was dazed and bleeding from a knock on the head, his eyes
unfocused and his skin pale. "I thought you said there were two
victims?" Janet asked as she checked for breath sounds and signs of
internal injury before they took the barely conscious man down to the
infirmary.

"There were, Doctor Jackson ran out of here like a bat out of hell a
couple of minutes ago!" The medic shrugged, "He didn't look badly
injured, a few bruises, a bit shaken up, but he didn't stick around long
enough for a thorough check."

Hammond stood nearby, listening intently, a concerned frown on his face.
The main entrance did not come under his direct responsibility, the
ownership belonged to Norad. However, if one of his people had been
involved, he wanted to know about it. He stepped closer to the security
officer who had been caught in the blast, smiling kindly at him. "Harry,
can you tell us anything about what happened?" He asked gently, trying
to get his attention.

Harry's lips moved slowly as he tried to mouth the words. Nothing came
out at first and the older man coughed dryly. "It was Colonel O'Neill,"
he whispered hoarsely, a frown of concentration on his face as he tried
to complete the important sentence, but he never managed it. His body
needed to rest, his head dropped back to the gurney and his breathing
slowed as he passed out.

Janet looked at the General worriedly, "Surely you don't think
that.......," but she never had a chance to finish her sentence. Hammond
turned away, heading towards one of the security men who was still
sifting through the rubble near the desk, trying to determine the cause
of the blast.

"Who's in charge here, airman?" The General asked authoritatively.

"Sergeant Chapman, Sir. He went down to the main gate. There were
reports of gunfire down there," the man responded quickly.

"Anyone hurt?" Janet asked immediately.

"Don't know, ma'am. He hasn't radioed in yet."

Hammond strode towards the shattered main entrance, his boots crunching
glass with each step. Janet turned to the paramedic, "Get Harry to the
infirmary, make sure he's stable and start getting him fixed up, I'll be
down shortly." With that, she ordered the second medic to follow her and
dashed out into the tunnel.

At the main gate, the scene was more grim, two security guards had been
shot at point blank range. Doctor Fraiser and the second paramedic could
do nothing but confirm their deaths before heading back down to the
infirmary to look after Harry instead. Sergeant Chapman was still trying
to figure out what was going on, but it was clear that whoever had
bombed the main entrance had made a fast getaway.

Reporting to the SGC commander, he added with some irritation, "Doctor
Jackson came through here a few minutes ago, Sir. He wouldn't stop. Damn
near ran one of my men over! Very foolish, he could have been shot as a
suspect if we hadn't already seen him as a victim in the blast!" He
shook his head, mystified by the whole incident, "At least we should be
able to get a full playback of what went down from the security camera
system, both here and at the main entrance. I was just going to head
over there now."

Hammond nodded, his round face creased in a worried frown, "I'll come
with you, Sergeant. If my men are involved here, I want to know how."

~~~~~~~~~~

A large military truck was slowly crawling its way up the steep mountain
roads, a common sight on a highway that only led to one place, unless
you counted the viewpoint stops along the way. Fathomless drops straight
down that only the most insane base jumpers would find tempting.

The driver shifted to bottom gear to round the tight bend, the truck
drifting across to the opposite side of the road as he did so. Rounding
the curve, he changed back up and began to climb again, noticing an open
jeep speeding down the hill towards him.

The airman driving the truck, smiled, waving his hand to acknowledge the
other driver, a large bald headed man. He allowed the jeep to pass, then
pulled hard on the steering wheel to swing the vehicle diagonally,
blocking the road. He switched off the ignition and waited for signs of
company.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daniel was driving recklessly and he knew it, but he had to catch up
with Jack. Somehow he had to help the Colonel. He tried to recall
exactly what he had seen in those few seconds after exiting the ground
floor elevator. He remembered seeing Jack with a much larger man who
seemed strangely familiar. Daniel tried to concentrate, but his head was
still fuzzy, he was having trouble focusing his mind on anything other
than the image of Jack struggling against recapture in the midst of that
blinding white flash of light.

Rapidly approaching another bend, he took it much too fast, careering
across into the oncoming lane as he fought the wheel of his speeding
vehicle, his shocked senses forced to narrow their attention back to the
road. The tyres squealed, dangerously close to the edge and he found
himself praying there would be nothing ascending the mountain around the
curve. Straightening out again, Daniel shakily eased his foot off the
accelerator, realising he would be no good to anybody if he was
splattered across the front of an oncoming supply truck or, worse still,
went over the cliff to become part of the scenery somewhere below.

Shifting gears, he stared down the stretch of highway before him,
wondering how far they could possibly have gone, he had to catch up
before they hit the open road at the bottom or he'd never find them. He
swung the vehicle round the next hairpin, more gently this time.
Directly in front an army truck was spread across the middle of the
road, temporarily blocking the way.

Daniel hit the brakes hard, jerking forwards against his seatbelt,
fighting to keep control as the rear end of his vehicle slewed
dangerously. He gasped in shock, swearing under his breath, wondering
why anyone would even attempt to turn around on this mountain road and
counting himself lucky that he had slowed down a little.

The driver made a show of trying to start the stalled engine, gesturing
with his hands and thumping the steering wheel in frustration. A few
more attempts and it caught. The vehicle began to move painstakingly
slow in a multi-point turn, gears shifting with a crunching grind.
Daniel idly studied the face of the uniformed soldier as the truck
drifted dangerously close to the gravel edge, noticing the dark skin and
dark hair, unmistakable looks which sent a shiver down his spine. To all
intents and purposes the man could be Egyptian. Daniel searched through
his memories of the last month, but could not recall having seen the man
anywhere before. However it did make him remember another face.

Warning bells sounded and his mind switched into overdrive as suddenly
all the pieces slipped into place. With growing horror, Daniel realised
where he had seen the other man before, the one who had forcibly dragged
Jack from the base entrance. It was the man whom Janet had shot in the
leg inside the boat museum! But how could it be? He was supposed to be
in prison pending trial, he had only been transferred to the United
States the previous week. The extradition proceedings rushed through by
agreement between the Egyptian and American authorities.

It might seem impossible, but Daniel could think of no other logical
explanation for what he had seen. He had to assume the worst. He had to
assume that the fate of his friend was now in the hands of the one man
they had all thought was locked up tight in a Federal jail.

The truck in front finally completed the turn and the Egyptian driver
signalled his thanks for waiting so patiently. Daniel fought the urge to
put his foot down, instead easing back on the accelerator to drift a
hundred yards behind the slow moving vehicle. There was no way past on
the winding mountain road. He would have to wait and hope the driver was
heading the same way as Jack had been taken. If not, the Colonel was in
very deep trouble once more.

"Christ, when is this ever going to end!" Daniel shouted in frustration,
thumping the steering wheel with the ball of his hand, his heart racing
and his stomach tightening in the grip of fear.

~~~~~~~~~~

Deep within Cheyenne Mountain the gate room was a hive of activity,
expectantly awaiting the arrival of an incoming team. SG3 was on its way
back having been out on a recon mission for six days, the usual group of
four bulked out by the addition of two members of SG1. General Hammond
had sent Captain Carter and Teal'c along for the ride, trying to give
them something to focus on other than their own perceived guilt at what
had happened to their leader.

Hammond had been tempted to send Doctor Jackson along too, but something
had stopped him. He was concerned about the young man's possible post
traumatic symptoms. Something he had noticed himself rather than
consulting with Doctor Fraiser, who was still not exactly enamoured with
her commanding officer over what had happened. Right now it was too
difficult a subject for him to discuss with her and in the end the
General felt it neither wise nor necessary to send Daniel out with
another team. After their phone conversation on Saturday morning, he had
been glad of his decision. It seemed the Colonel needed his friend's
help as much as Doctor Jackson needed to help the Colonel.

Captain Carter and Teal'c had been another matter. Both were brooding,
angry and frustrated, neither one able to help the situation, nor did
they have anything else distracting enough to focus on. So General
Hammond had discussed it with Colonel Makepeace, explained that he would
have to tread carefully, but may need to push them as far as they could
go before they responded with any kind of fighting spirit. Hopefully it
would be a peaceful exploration of another planet, there would be no
danger in carrying two extra members who were not psychologically at one
hundred percent.

The ploy seemed to work well, Colonel Makepeace was pleased with the
performance of the two SG1 members and was all set to make a statement
to General Hammond to that effect. However, for the first time in his
recollection, the SGC commander was not around to take his report.

"Where's General Hammond?" Makepeace asked Lieutenant Simmonds, who had
been left in charge of inventorying and recovering their mission
equipment.

The man had a pensive look on his face as he tried to concentrate on his
job, "Up top, Colonel Makepeace, Sir! There's been an explosion at the
main entrance."

"What! Anyone hurt?" The leader of SG3 asked immediately.

"Don't know. There were two people caught in the blast. I heard they
took Harry to the infirmary, but I don't know what happened to the other
one. Though, word is it was Doctor Jackson," he glanced uncomfortably
towards Captain Carter.

"Daniel!" Sam was shedding her gear a few feet away, listening with only
a distant curiosity, her mind immediately returning to concern for
Colonel O'Neill as soon as her feet had hit the Gate room ramp. Then she
heard Doctor Jackson's name mentioned, "What happened to Daniel? Is he
all right?" She glanced around worriedly, looking for her team mate. The
Jaffa was just emerging through the wormhole. "Teal'c! There's been an
explosion upstairs, Daniel was caught in it!"

The Jaffa's hurried steps thudded down the metal ramp, "What of his
condition?"

The Lieutenant hesitated, "We don't know for sure what happened to
anybody, but the General's up there now investigating."

Before he could finish, Sam turned to Colonel Makepeace and received his
nod of approval, they were free to go and check on their friend. The
Captain dropped the rest of her gear into the hands of a surprised
Simmonds, Teal'c solemnly relinquished his staff weapon to another team
member, and both left the Gate room running.

Sam was practically hopping from one foot to the other as she waited
inside the elevator, watching the numbers drag inexorably closer to sub
level eleven, where they would have to change cars. When it finally came
to a halt, she breathed a sigh of relief, stepping out into the corridor
to come face to face with one anxious General and a security sergeant.

"General Hammond, Sir! We heard there had been an explosion," Sam
blurted out, "What happened? Where's Daniel?"

"Captain Carter, welcome back," Hammond said grimly, his surprise at
meeting the two SG1 members failing to register on top of the shocks he
had already received that morning. He paused, choosing his words
carefully, "Doctor Jackson is apparently fine, he left the scene and we
have yet to track him down. We're just on our way to the security room
to investigate further," he finished, deciding not to mention the
implications of Colonel O'Neill's involvement in the bombing, until he
had a better idea of what had occurred.

"General, permission to accompany you?" Both Teal'c and Sam exclaimed in
tandem.

Hammond nodded, he knew how tricky it would be to determine exact
circumstances from the black and white security footage, four pairs of
eyes would be better than two.

~~~~~~~~~~

Jack stretched up his left hand to grip the roll bar a foot behind the
front seat, hanging on as tightly as he could in preference to the
bashing and wrenching his manacled wrist was getting every time the jeep
careened wildly around the twisting curves down the mountain. He tried
to sit up from his slouched sideways position, but the wrench on his arm
was practically dislocating, all he could manage was to kneel on the
seat, which at least helped to cushion his hurting rib cage, something
else that seemed to be deteriorating about as rapidly as this whole
situation he found himself trapped in once more.

He rested his forehead onto the back of the seat, his ears still buzzing
as he tried to narrow his dazed thoughts to concentrate on something
other than the fear rising in his gut. Jack took a slow steadying
breath, wincing at the ache in his side as his lungs filled with air,
using the pain to focus his mind on the need for revenge. Right now he
may be helpless to fight back, but that couldn't last forever. Or could
it?

That thought provoked unwanted reminders of an interminable struggle to
overcome his enemies in the dark confinement of an underground tomb.
Fending off incessant questions in a war of attrition between captor and
captive, wondering what new agony would be inflicted for each negative
response. The deliberate grinding of shards of bone in his fingers, the
bolts of electricity searing through his body, or perhaps worse, a
simple painful beating at the hands of the man who now held him prisoner
once more, an attack with the sole purpose of wearing the victim down
inch by inch. Memories all too harrowing, that left Jack unable to
ignore a growing fear that he would get no further chance to control his
own fate this time.

Gradually Jack became aware of the jeep slowing slightly, turning onto
the wide valley highway to head south. It sped up rapidly, finally freed
from the switchbacks and constant gear changing of the mountains. Gazing
behind them, O'Neill saw no sign of the truck that the Slav had
signalled to, presumably a colleague waiting to hinder anyone that might
give chase. Not that it seemed necessary, who was there left that knew
what had happened? He was on his own again.

~~~~~~~~~~

Inside Cheyenne Mountain, four pairs of eyes were reviewing the optical
discs of security camera footage as Sergeant Chapman called them up from
the computer store via the keyboard in front of him. Sam could feel the
tension increase as they went over each scene. Before the explosion had
destroyed them, the lobby cameras had recorded the sight of Colonel
O'Neill yelling a warning to his friend, his lips clearly readable as he
mouthed Daniel's name. Then he was dragged through the entrance towards
the parked vehicles. Teal'c sat beside her, his expression taut, his
body held under tight control as they helplessly watched the recapture
of their team leader.

The film that followed was even more grim. Two different cameras showed
the jeep approach the main gate, with what they could only hope was an
unconscious Colonel in the passenger seat, his slumped body completely
unmoving. Shots were fired without warning as one guard stepped toward
the vehicle to check papers. The second guard inside the security hut
had been killed by a bullet through the glass window, hitting him in the
head before the jeep sped away, smashing through the barrier.

"Damnit!" Sam heard the General mutter under his breath, then he turned
to look at her, "Captain Carter, do you recognise this man?"

"No, Sir, but maybe Doctor Fraiser will?" She suggested.

"We'll ask her later. First I want to go back further." Hammond glanced
at the security man who was busily taking notes for his investigation,
"Sergeant Chapman, what about footage from the elevators? >From the
details his driver gave us, Colonel O'Neill had plenty of time to go
inside the base before the explosion."

The Sergeant nodded, turning to the computer keyboard to call up the new
discs and rapid scan the digital picture until he found an image of the
Colonel travelling inside the elevator. At first glance it looked like
he was alone, then they all saw a large hand move into shot from beneath
the camera position. Thick fingers toying with a small transmitter,
switching a dial on the front.

Sam watched her team leader stare at the threatening gestures, wondering
what on earth could have been going through his mind at that point,
after everything he had already endured. She could barely believe that
even this base had proven a risk to his safety.

As the recording continued to play, Colonel O'Neill glanced directly at
them, the effect unnerving as Carter found herself staring straight into
his dark eyes. She could detect the look of nervous fear he was trying
to conceal behind a confident air. His lips mouthed a single readable
word. "Bomb!" Then his jaw snapped tightly shut and his gaze shifted
back to the person standing below the camera.

They witnessed Jack lean against the corner of the elevator, his mouth
moving in apparently casual conversation.

"Can anyone here read lips?" Hammond asked.

"No, but Doctor Fraiser can," Sam answered, uncomfortable memories of
her surveillance of the General one dark rainy night in Denver, quickly
suppressed as the scene continued to unfold before their eyes.

O'Neill lunged forward and they got their first view of the man
accompanying him in the elevator as he stepped to one side of the car.
Unsurprisingly, it was the same large bald headed man from the other
footage. Sam gasped in horror when she saw him brutally deflect the
Colonel's attack with a solid right kick. She could feel the pain as
Jack hit the back wall and almost collapsed, struggling to stay on his
feet, chest heaving, eyes squeezed tightly shut.

Teal'c stood up abruptly, his chair falling backwards with a crash, a
look on his face that revealed what everyone else was feeling. They all
wanted to find this vicious person who had invaded their base and
attacked the Colonel, and they also knew what they wanted to do with him
when they found him, even though regulations and morals might stop them.

"Get Doctor Fraiser up here immediately," Hammond exclaimed angrily, his
feelings of helplessness boiling over as he was forced to watch one of
his own people being beaten within the supposed security of his own
base. The General knew how hard it must have been for Jack to return
inside the mountain, only for this to happen. It scarcely seemed
possible, if he wasn't seeing it with his own eyes.

They watched the remaining few minutes of footage as they awaited the
doctor's arrival. Janet looked harried and flushed by the time she
reached the security room after rushing up several flights of stairs.
The General waited long enough to get a report on the bomb victim Harry,
glad to hear he was resting comfortably, before explaining to the woman
what was required.

Janet watched the security film from the elevator, frightened by the
look in Jack's eyes as she slowly read his lips, "'So, do I get to know
who it is that wants me dead? Or am I supposed to die blissfully
ignorant?'" She quoted, her hands clenching the rubber tube of her
stethoscope still hanging around her neck as she watched what happened
next. "Oh my God! I think that's the Slav I shot in the leg," she
whispered hoarsely, her eyes glued to the screen. "Not the Colonel's
ribcage again!" She exclaimed with a wince, all thought of detachment
lost as she was forced to look on helplessly as her friend suffered
excruciating pain.

She saw Jack shake his head to clear it. He appeared to listen before
tilting his face and glaring at the speaker, "'Then why don't you just
do it, now that you have a front row seat'," she quoted softly, puzzled
at his words, taken out of context as they were. Wondering what was
going on behind his dark eyes. Then Jack slowly pushed himself upright
and moved towards the door, stepping out of sight of the camera, the
elevator becoming empty once more.

"That man is supposed to be in a Federal prison! How could this have
happened?" Janet exclaimed.

"I don't know, Doctor, but I aim to find out as soon as this crisis is
over," Hammond vowed bitterly.

"That transmitter had a frequency dial on it, Sir," Carter spoke up,
determined to push past the feelings of helplessness and do something
constructive, "We have to assume he planted more than one bomb. What if
any of them are on timers as well as remote?"

Hammond regarded her solemnly, "I want you and Teal'c to head up search
teams. Use Colonel Makepeace's team and all other available personnel to
make a sweep of this entire base. I don't want to be hit with any more
surprises today."

~~~~~~~~~~

Daniel's heart sank when he eventually pulled onto the road through the
valley and saw the driver of the army truck signalling him to overtake
as the military vehicle continued at a slow crawl. He had no choice
except to pass, or it would become apparent that he was attempting to
follow.

Reluctantly accelerating ahead, Daniel faced a long stretch of black
tarmac, shimmering in the increasing heat of the June morning,
completely devoid of any other military vehicles as far as he could see.
No sign of any jeep pulling away in the distance among the light
civilian traffic.

All he could do was put his foot down in the hope he might catch up
before they turned off. If he didn't find anything, he would have to
pull in somewhere and wait for the truck to pass, assuming it did not
turn off before it reached him. And, what if the jeep had gone in the
opposite direction to the truck, what if the truck driver was simply a
decoy? Surely there was no reason for that, they could not suspect he
had recognised them, could they? Daniel's fingers clenched tighter on
the steering wheel as he pressed down harder on the gas, the speedometer
needle creeping ever higher.

He rapidly covered thirty miles, seeing nothing and counting the
turnings off the main highway with fading hope. If the jeep had taken
one of those side roads, how could he possibly know which one? About to
pass a filling station, Daniel yanked on the wheel and pulled onto the
forecourt with a screech of brakes. He leaned out to question a mechanic
who was leaning against one of the pillars which held up the canopy,
chewing tobacco as he rubbed grease and oil from his hands with a dirty
rag.

"Have you seen an army jeep heading south in the last half hour?" Daniel
shouted from his car window, "The driver is a large bald man."

The mechanic pondered for an interminable moment before answering,
"Nope! Don't recall seeing anything like that come by this morning."

"You're sure?" Daniel asked. The man nodded slowly. "Have you got a
phone?" Looking in the direction the man was pointing, Daniel spotted
the pay phone at the corner of the garage building. He pulled his car up
beside it and jumped out, digging his hands in his pockets to find some
quarters. If the truck had maintained such a slow speed, he might still
have time to get back and find it, maybe follow it to wherever the jeep
had been driven, but if he couldn't find it, he would need some help.

Frantically feeding the phone, Daniel punched in the number of General
Hammond's direct line, drumming his fingers on the window as he waited
impatiently for it to be answered. Sweat trickled down his spine in the
heat of the glass booth, barely any breeze coming through the open door.
"Come on, come on........It's Daniel Jackson!" He yelled when someone
picked up, "Where's General Hammond?" He paused whilst an airman rapidly
re-routed him to another extension.

The telephone only rang once before it was quickly answered. "General
Hammond! It's Daniel Jackson, Sir!" He was interrupted by a gruff voice
yelling at him from the handset. "I know I shouldn't have left the
scene, but you don't understand, General, he's gone! Jack's gone!"

"We know son!" Hammond's grim voice responded in his ear, "We saw what
happened. Now where are you?"

Daniel rapidly blurted out his explanation, the General had already
obtained the registration number of the jeep from the driver pool and
contacted the County Sheriff's office. Daniel added the details of the
army truck, but he still hoped he could track that down himself if he
hurried. Even if they found the vehicles, they couldn't let the local
deputies alone deal with the situation. Jack would effectively be
captive and Daniel knew that hostage negotiations run by inexperienced
officers rarely turned out well, or perhaps it was the simple
psychological need for Daniel to help save his friend a second time.

"General, you have to tell the Sheriff to back off and let us deal with
this when they find them," Daniel pleaded anxiously, "You have to give
us the chance to get Jack out safely."

"They have to find him first, son," Hammond reminded him grimly. "For
now, I want you back here immediately. I don't want to have to widen
this search to two missing men, understand?"

"Yes Sir," Daniel replaced the handset on the hook, fully aware that he
had just lied to the SGC's commander. He pushed his way out of the
booth, jumped into his car and headed back the way he came in a cloud of
dust and squealing rubber.

~~~~~~~~~~

The open jeep had turned several times since leaving the highway until
eventually it lurched off the road onto a rough dirt track. The trail
was strewn with large dried up potholes and with each sickening crunch,
Jack was driven deeper into an inescapable hell. Each jolt felt like one
more boot kicking his ribcage, one more vivid image, impossible to
suppress, that left him weakened as the faces of his enemies seemed to
surround him now. A pale faced Russian, a thin electrician, an Egyptian
guard with a thirst for vengeance, each face closing in as densely as
the green forest in which he was now trapped.

The vehicle bounced along, enclosed by thick undergrowth, on a track
darkened by the unbroken canopy of trees and Jack realised he had once
again allowed himself to be snared like some helpless wild animal,
caught in a desperate struggle for survival. Not only was he fighting
against a man who already knew all of his weaknesses, but he was
battling against his own mind, which threatened to topple him into
insanity with the strobing images that continued incessantly, flashing
before his eyes with increasing intensity, until Jack began to believe
he would never be free again, physically or mentally.

Journeying through the confinement of the narrow tunnel of trees, Jack
was dragged back to the dark alleyways beside Giza plateau, a violent
attack led by a moustached Egyptian. For a moment, Jack thought he could
hear the cruel laughter that would have accompanied that malevolent
smile. Then the sound repeated closer to his ear and he felt hot breath
on his face, opening his eyes to face the Slav gloating over his visible
fear.

And at that point Jack knew for certain that he could never win. He had
tried so many times and failed. Now the memories and the pain, were all
just another part of his reality, different chapters in time mixing
together into one until he no longer knew who he was fighting or even
why. He just wanted it all to end, here and now, thoughts of revenge
becoming secondary to his need to escape this hell the only way left
open to him.

One more crashing lurch through a deep rut on the trail sent a piercing
pain through Jack's side, as if to accentuate the inevitability of his
defeat, and then the trees opened out, revealing a large clearing. An
old stone cabin stood at the centre of the sloping hillside, reasonably
maintained, probably a vacation home, the base for winter ice fishing or
summer breaks of water sport at one of the nearby lakes.

The Slav pulled the jeep beyond the house, under the protective canopy
of tree cover. Out of sight from the trail or the air, a precaution that
seemed unnecessary given the peaceful isolation of the location.
Overwhelmed by a feeling of hopelessness, Jack focused on the sounds of
the surrounding forest, all his fight and resolve now spent.

Birds sang sweetly, high branches rustled their leaves in the light
breeze as the Slav released his seatbelt and climbed from the vehicle.
He stepped around to unlock the handcuffs from the roll bar, twisting
Jack's wrist behind his back and jerking him roughly from the jeep,
propelling him round the side to the front of the house.

Jack almost stumbled up the porch steps, his legs stiff after his long
trek down the stairway into the bowels of the SGC. Well all that effort
had been a monumental waste of time, he thought numbly, given the zero
possibility of him ever returning to that place. Although he never would
have made it inside again after what happened today, it was probably a
good job the opportunity would not arise.

The Slav shoved him through the door to the cabin. Inside it was dark
and shadowy, the shutters closed tightly, secured against intruders.
Jack blinked, trying to adjust his eyes as he was pushed further into
the house. At the end of a hallway, they stopped. Reaching for a nearby
lightswitch, the bulky man waved his semiautomatic in Jack's direction
threateningly, "Empty your pockets!"

Jack shrugged and did as he was told, he didn't know why it was
necessary, but he had nothing to hide that could possibly help him. As
far as he knew, his Swiss army knife was lost somewhere in Cairo and his
wallet wasn't going to do him any good in the circumstances. His SGC
access badge was worthless to someone who already had full run of the
base and that only left a few coins jangling loosely in his pocket which
he emptied on the floor along with everything else.

It occurred to Jack that something was missing, his mind slow to grasp
the absence of the dogtags he had placed in his pocket just before
things went straight to hell with the appearance of the Slav at his own
office door. After all his time in the military it seemed ironic that he
would now die without the guarantee of positive identification those
stamped pieces of metal served to provide. Vaguely, Jack wondered what
had happened to them and whether they would ever be found, perhaps years
from now, long after his body had turned to dust.

The Slav used his free hand to check the pockets of his jacket and pants
were empty. Finding nothing else concealed about the Colonel's person,
he bent down to lift the corner of a rug, drawing it back with a
sadistic smile to reveal a trapdoor into the basement below the house.
And Jack realised that perhaps he was not going to die soon enough after
all.

~~~~~~~~~~

Daniel neared the fourth turning on the way back along the highway from
the gas station and could still see no sign of the army truck anywhere
up ahead. Despite the slow pace it had been moving, surely he should
have passed it by now? Slamming his hand against the steering wheel in
frustration, he realised it could only mean one thing, the truck must
have turned off somewhere already. Now he had to figure out where.

"For crying out loud, Danny Boy, there are at least eight turnoffs. You
may as well give up now!" His defeatist words, spoken aloud, echoed
hollowly and he wondered what might be happening to Jack, a mix of fear
and guilt welling up inside him.

"God, Jack, I should never have pushed you so hard to come back to the
base," Daniel's soft words were plaintive, "Then you wouldn't be in this
mess!" He stared ahead once more, before gazing forlornly down the
turning he was about to pass. Not even pausing to check his mirror for
other traffic, Daniel suddenly stomped on the brakes, slewing his car in
a squealing U-turn, going almost full circle as he turned east.

At the crest of the long stretch of tarmac now ahead of him, he had
spotted a whisper of dust clouds, a hint of the passing of a heavy
vehicle, enough to set off his gut instinct. Straightening the car out
he accelerated hard.

Crowning the hilltop three miles ahead, Daniel searched the roadway for
any sign of military traffic in the distance. The two lane blacktop
stretched as straight as a ruler for miles, but there was no sign of an
army truck. Either he had been imagining things, or it had turned off
again already. Daniel slowed the car, veering onto the gravel shoulder
several times as he descended the back of the hill, peering into the
trees running along both sides.

About four miles down was a side exit. Daniel nearly went on by, but at
the last minute something told him to turn off. He swung the wheel onto
the slightly narrower paved road and kept driving, scanning down either
side for any sign of a clue.

Glancing all around, Daniel suddenly caught a glimpse in his rear view
mirror of a dark hole in the treeline back up on the other side of the
road. He came to a halt and turned the car around, pulling up on the
shoulder and jumping out. His breath caught in his throat when he
spotted the tell tale tracks of large heavy tyres in the dry earth,
leading off on a potholed dirt track that dropped off the road and
disappeared into the forest, almost unnoticeable to anyone not searching
for it.

Staring at the tyre marks, Daniel noticed the distinct shape of a set of
dogtags lying amidst the roadside dust. Crouching down, he nudged them
with his finger until he could read the identification stamped into the
flat metal, already knowing what it would say. His heart raced,
realising this was proof that the Colonel must have been taken this way.

Vaguely Daniel wondered about the deeper significance of his find, how
long it had been since Jack had worn these dog tags. It wasn't something
he had thought about much, but Daniel had noticed their absence way back
on that fateful Sunday morning at the hotel in Giza. Originally he had
thought the identity tags were stolen along with Jack's passport, but
then he realised that more likely the Colonel's principles would have
prompted him to leave them behind before flying to Egypt, before
disobeying a direct command and going AWOL, acting outside the realms of
the military he had always served so loyally, in order to save his
friend.

With renewed resolve, Daniel picked up the dogtags and rammed the chain
into his pocket, he would return the tags to their rightful owner if it
was the last thing he did. Jumping back into his car, Daniel drove off
the road, feeling the potholed track hammering at his vehicle's
unprepared suspension.

He drove slowly, not knowing how far in he might encounter the truck,
the dense foliage of the forest darkening the interior so he couldn't
see more than fifty yards ahead. After a couple of miles the track
widened slightly and Daniel caught a glimpse of sunlight in the
distance. He stopped on the trail, the engine quietly idling, looking
for a place to abandon his vehicle, but there was nowhere to hide it, he
could only leave it in the middle of the track. In fact, Daniel
realised, he would never even be able to turn it around in such tight
confines, he would have to reverse all the way back out to the main road
in order to escape.

That thought stopped him short and it occurred to Daniel how unplanned
his actions were. He had no weapon and noone knew of his whereabouts.
And, if he found where Jack was being held, he certainly wasn't going to
leave him there whilst he went for help! With the hope of finding the
Colonel spurring him on, Daniel left his vehicle and plunged into the
line of trees, rushing headlong to face whatever lay ahead.

~~~~~~~~~~

Fearfully Jack stared at the trapdoor in the floor, his heart thudding
painfully, panic rising, as he understood the ominous implications. He
knew that if he went back into that box, he would never escape again, he
would die there for sure this time and the circumstance of such a death
terrified him far more than the end of life itself. If he died in that
dark hole, Jack was certain he would be destined to spend eternity
trapped within it.

Barely able to breath, he watched helplessly as the trapdoor was
unlocked and opened, the air escaping from within smelled musty and
dank. Slowly overcome by terror, Jack considered just how shortsighted
he had been to think that nothing worse could be done to him than he had
already endured, his hope that death was imminent had been a foolish
dream.

The Slav stepped back and gestured for him to descend the darkened
staircase. Sweat trickled down the back of Jack's neck despite the shady
cool of the interior. "Why wait?" He finally managed hoarsely, surprised
by the sound of his own weak voice, speaking aloud a death knell that so
far he had only dared to think, "Why don't you just get it over with and
kill me now?"

The bald headed man smiled, "We have to make your suicide look
convincing, that will take time to arrange. Meanwhile, I thought you
would like your new home. Dmitri told me how much you enjoyed his
similar hospitality."

For the first time in this torturous affair Jack could no longer let his
stubborn pride get in the way, fear overwhelmed him, cloaking him in its
smothering hold, surrounding him as claustrophobically as any tiny
prison cell, until the only option left to him was to beg. His panicky
words sounded hollow and frightened to his ears, pathetic and feeble, "I
can't do it. Don't make me go down there, please."

He stared at the sadistic leer of his tormentor with pleading eyes,
knowing how low he had truly sunk, but powerless to do anything to claw
his way back. The Slav gestured again, waving his 9mm in the direction
of the dark hole in the floor. Jack shook his head, resolute in this one
remaining decision of his life. The hulking man glowered at him
malevolently and then simply shrugged, lowering his weapon as if giving
in to O'Neill's plea for mercy.

Jack expelled a held breath in relief, but before he got a chance to
inhale another the Slav grabbed his arm and brutally shoved him towards
the gaping black entrance. Caught off balance, O'Neill stumbled at the
edge, floundering to grip something, anything, that would stop him from
plummeting into the dark depths.

Instead, he toppled through the trapdoor, landing on the flight of
wooden stairs with a bruising crunch, his body tumbling, headlong out of
control. Desperately he scrambled for something to hold on to, something
to break his descent, knowing if he fell all the way, he could still die
in the one place where his death might prove to be no escape.

His long fingers caught the open stairway, clutching feebly until the
rubber sole of his flailing boot hit a lower step, gripping hard enough
to reduce his breakneck fall to a banging slide all the way to the
bottom. His lower back bruisingly exposed to the wooden treads as his
leather jacket rode up to protect his shoulders and neck.

Jack lay gasping, suffocating under the weight of overwhelming darkness,
aware of the distinctive malevolent laughter fading away as the trapdoor
slammed behind him, the click of the latch and the dragging of the
carpet being moved to recover it, to hide all trace of his final
confinement.

Shuddering at the sound, Jack felt a ripple of pain throughout his
entire body, but as he tried to fill his lungs with a slow breath, the
greatest source of agony revealed itself, emitting from his left side,
the area of his original fractured rib, and the Colonel knew without a
doubt that the single point of weakness had definitely spread.

Jack's anguished cry was cut short by lack of air, the excruciating pain
in his ribcage stopping his lungs from refilling. The intensity of it
sharpened his senses as if needles were stabbing them into alertness,
focusing his hearing, sight and touch into a powerful trio, seeking a
way to reduce the agony and ease his suffering.

For a long while, Jack remained still, lying against the bottom treads
of the staircase, breathing shallowly, not daring to move in case of the
pain. Slowly his eyes adjusted to the dark, not registering the tiny
amount of light emanating from the farthest corner. He strained to
listen for any sounds, seeking comfort in their noise as his fear began
to overpower all cognitive thought.

He could hear birds calling faintly and, for a moment, he thought he
heard a gust of air whistling through a gap in the wall somewhere. But
how could that be, wasn't he underground? Jack shivered at that thought,
producing another bolt of agony from his side that pushed him even
deeper, until he was running on instinct alone, his diminished mental
capacity desperately seeking a way past the paralysing fear, goading him
with reminders of his final conversation with the Slav, his feeble words
repeating over and over in his head.

God, Jack, you sure know how to hit rock bottom! A silent voice berated
him caustically. What the hell did you think you were going to achieve,
begging the guy for mercy? I know you're scared, but if you were just
going to give up, don't you think you should have done that in the first
place, before you put the whole of the SGC in danger? Before you caused
everyone such misery, not to mention worrying Sara! And what about
Daniel?

The last words almost screamed at him as realisation struck. "God!" Jack
gasped a strangled cry, grief hitting him full on as the image of his
friend suddenly replayed in his mind, engulfed by the white hot blast of
the explosion, murdered by the very person who had now forced Jack back
into this unfathomable hole. He shielded his eyes with his hand,
struggling against a turmoil of grief and sorrow and harrowing memories,
all struggling for supremacy inside his head.

Out of nowhere an unfamiliar scene pushed to the fore, his Russian
torturer and an Egyptian, both standing beside a bed in a room he did
not recognise. Jack wondered if he had finally gone insane and for a
moment he couldn't decide whether that would be a bad thing or not. If
he was going to die in this box, it would be better if he were beyond
awareness, completely past caring.

But he did care!

Stunned by that sudden thought, Jack opened his eyes, blinking in
astonishment. Deep down, somewhere beneath the fear and defeat, the
utter helplessness overwhelming him, he really did still care whether he
lived, or at least he cared how he died. If he was going to die today,
he wanted to do it on his own terms, not at the whim of a sadistic
mercenary who had yet to pay the ultimate penalty for what he had done.

If Jack O'Neill's final act were to come on this day, at least let it be
of his own making, in a fight for vengeance against the man who had
murdered Daniel. And somewhere during the struggle, perhaps there would
be an opportunity to spoil the Slav's plans, to stop him from succeeding
in causing further mayhem at the base, to stop him from being paid by
some maniac to blow up the SGC in the Colonel's name!

Spurred on by the idea, Jack found himself beginning to focus on revenge
not defeat, retribution not fear. He had to take control of his life
again instead of losing all hope, to command himself to fight back one
last time. That's all it would take, he promised himself. Come on Jack,
if you were going to give up you should have done it in Iraq, died in
that hellhole instead of beating the odds, instead of surviving to see
Sara again! If you were ever going to pick a time to curl up and die,
you've had much better opportunities!

"And don't even think about that box again!" Jack shocked himself when
he gasped the angry words out loud. His heart racing, pumping with
adrenaline, "So what if you're afraid, Jack!" He added caustically,
"Deal with it. You've done it before."

Gradually he lifted his head and tested movement in each limb before
daring to shift his torso from its painful resting place. With a slow
drawing of breath he filled his lungs as far as he could bear before
pain flared, then gingerly pushed himself up on his elbows.
Concentrating all his energy on shallow breathing, Jack clutched his
plastered arm across his chest in support and pulled himself to a seated
position with a grunt of agony.

He carefully stood up, feeling the ache of new bruising across his back,
but nothing worse, so long as he ignored the intense pain in his left
side, and he could almost do that if he kept his breathing shallow and
tried not to make any sudden moves. Speaking of moves, Jack stretched
his arm out to feel in front as he gingerly stepped forward, realising
with a mixture of shock and joy that he could almost see his fingertips,
there was faint light coming from somewhere. His eyes desperately sought
the brightness in the dark surrounding him, gradually zooming in on the
lightest area of the room, doing his best not to stumble into the
numerous obstacles lying in his path.

The cellar was large, seeming to stretch under the entire house. In the
very far corner the slope of the clearing gave way to the chance for
occasional ventilation of the damp interior, a tiny basement window. It
had long been covered with a steel mesh, another security precaution,
but the metal was old, rusting, and suddenly Jack saw a light at the end
of his own psychological tunnel. Something to work on, to focus his
tormented mind. Maybe even a much needed means of escaping the box. If
he could only pry it open and squeeze through.

In a store room this cluttered there had to be something to aid his
task. Quietly, not wishing to attract attention, Jack began to feel
around in the dark, searching for tools. He found a workbench against
one wall, looking for anything that could aid his long overdue escape
from this nightmare. His hand knocked something hard, causing the thud
of metal against wood as his fingers scrabbled for it in the dark,
knocking it from its perch. It landed with a loud clunk on the concrete
floor and Jack froze, praying noone would hear the sound. Nothing moved
above, there was no sudden rush of footsteps, no dragging back of the
rug to open the trapdoor.

He slowly bent his knees to crouch down, feeling with his fingers for
the object, about to give up when his hand brushed against solid cold
metal. He picked it up, feeling the weight of a chisel in his hand, that
would do just fine. Jack made his way back towards the light and slid
the flat end beneath the edge of the metal grille, straining to pry it
away from the crumbling mortar, the rusting screws reluctant to give up
their timeworn hold.

Finally one side gave way in a burst of brick and rust. With shaking
fingers, Jack grasped at the remainder of the mesh grille and pulled
hard, feeling the effort rip through his side until the pain forced him
to rethink his method. Wedging his plastered arm behind the mesh, he
leaned all of his weight against the grille until he managed to bend it
back far enough to uncover the window. An old pane of glass, distorted
by heat and age, covered in dirt and years of fallen leaf mulch, which
made it impossible to see anything beyond, but that was a risk he would
have to take.

Jack fought the latch, the strength in his fingers rapidly diminishing.
It was rusted solid. Instead he slid his jacket part way down his right
arm and thumped hard with his plaster cast, the leather muffled the
tinkling of shattering glass. He ran his plastered wrist around the
window edge to clear the jagged shards out of the way. Regarding the
opening and the outside air beyond with a relief that left him feeling
almost light headed, Jack sized it up. Maybe about a foot high, eighteen
inches wide. It would be a tight fit, but he didn't care, this was still
a chance to escape his confinement.

Reaching up with both arms, Jack stretched high, ignoring the pressure
against his chest, to try and pry himself up and through the hole. His
boots scrabbled against the wall, finding a brief purchase to push
higher. Halfway through his foot slipped and Jack landed heavily against
his ribs. Tears of pain sprang to his eyes and he bit off a gasp of
agony, focusing his breathing into short shallow rasps. He tried to
remember if his side had ever hurt that much before, either when he had
originally received the injury from the booted foot of a Cairo gangster
or when the Slav had punched him during the beating in the depths of the
ancient pyramid, memories that were still tormentingly fresh in his
mind.

The thought of the Slav spurred him on again, lifting himself once more
and gritting his teeth as he wriggled through the tight gap. It occurred
to Jack that if he hadn't lost so much weight he might never have made
it through. There was a bright side to everything, he thought, well,
almost everything.

As Jack finally crouched on the soft ground outside, he fought back a
feeling of elation, turning slowly to study his surroundings. He had
exited at the back of the house, the dirt trail just in view, prompting
him to consider the jeep. Creeping towards the side, he peered around
the corner at the vehicle hidden beneath the trees. All was quiet except
the birds and the rustling leaves.

Keeping low, he headed across the open clearing, ten yards to the car,
and crouched down to check the ignition, but the keys were gone. Jack
felt beneath the seat, then moved around to the passenger side, but the
Slav must have taken them with him. He was just trying to decide if he
would be able to hotwire the vehicle one handed, when he heard the low
gear rumble of an approaching truck. Time's up, Jack, he thought grimly.
Glancing at the dense trees beyond the jeep, he hurried into their
enveloping safety.

All he could hope for now was to work his way around the clearing back
towards the road, if he could get out of the forest, back to
civilisation, he might be able to get a warning to the SGC about the
explosives. He tried to remember how far the highway had been, but all
Jack could recall was panic stricken thought, a mind totally unable to
fight back, helplessly trapped. He swallowed a shudder, renewing his
resolve to never sink that low again, no matter what happened to him.

Somewhere behind him, he heard the truck draw up near the cabin, the
welcoming shout of an Eastern European accent and two voices drifting
away back inside the house. Jack pushed deeper, forging a path through
the thick foliage, thoughts of putting some distance between them
overriding his initial need for revenge.

For a moment his step faltered as Jack realised that he actually did
have a real chance of escaping now, if he could only stay focused and
keep his wits about him. Perhaps there really was some hope of getting
away, but how would he feel if the Slav was still running around free?
Would that come back to haunt him?

~~~~~~~~~~

Creeping through the dense trees, Daniel finally reached an open
clearing. In the centre stood an isolated stone faced cabin, peaceful
and silent, the windows shuttered, blind to his movements. He dashed
across the open space, keeping low, crouching breathlessly at the side
of the house and straining to hear any movement within.

Slowly he crept around the back, stopping to listen intently beneath
each window. Five feet from the far corner, the muffled sound of a
familiar guttural accent suddenly emerged from the room he had just
passed, accompanied by the banging of a wood frame hitting the closed
shutters outside. Daniel froze.

"How do you open these things?" A muted Egyptian voice asked irritably.

"Just shove it hard, it'll soon spring the catch," an Eastern European
accent replied.

The window rattled again and the shutters burst open, swinging back
against the side of the house with a thud, their wooden latch rotten and
weak. Daniel pressed himself against the stone wall his heart thumping
in his chest.

"So what's the plan?" The voice sounded loud through the open window,
the words followed by a puff of cigarette smoke drifting out to foul the
clean air. Daniel felt his nose begin to itch, pinching it to stop the
sneeze from growing.

"We wait until dark, before we do him, make it more convincing. There's
a typewriter in the back room, we just need his fingerprints on the keys
and the paper, we don't really even need him to sign the note if he
refuses. Noone's going to be able to argue with a scrawled left handed
signature. Then by the time the shit hits the fan we'll be well away
from here!" Daniel could hear the confident smile in the Slav's voice.
"He's in the basement, we may as well make some preparations."

"Don't we get to have any fun with him first? He killed the others
remember!"

"Depends, we can't mark him any worse or it'll raise suspicion, but he
does already have a few well known weak spots," the Eastern European
laughed cruelly.

Daniel winced at the vicious sound, as an arm suddenly reached from the
opening to flick a still burning cigarette butt in his direction.
Jumping backwards, his boot crunched glass underfoot, hidden amidst the
mulch of rotting leaves gathered against the side of the house. He held
his breath, glancing down to see where he had trodden, missing the fact
that the hand at the window also stopped moving for a split second.

Inside the kitchen, the Egyptian spoke again, "What weapon are we going
to use?" He asked, signalling with his hands for the Slav to get outside
fast.

"Standard military issue Beretta 92F," the man said loudly as he headed
towards the door, "I signed it out in his name from the armoury this
morning. It's in the other room, I'll go get it." He moved swiftly for
his bulk, down the hall, bursting out the side door and rounding the
corner before Daniel knew what had hit him. He was still concentrating
on the voice inside the kitchen window, which now speculated on how much
he was going to enjoy seeing the end results of their work.

The Slav grabbed him from behind, lifting him up off his feet with ease
as Daniel gasped in surprise, struggling to free himself. Glass crunched
under the Slav's heavy boots and he glanced down to see the broken
basement window. "Get down to the cellar!" He shouted to his colleague,
hauling Daniel bodily around the corner to the side door.

Dragging him into the shady interior, the Slav met the Egyptian in the
hallway, dragging back the carpet to raise the trapdoor. Turning on the
basement light from a switch on the wall, he dashed down the stairs, gun
drawn. "He's not here," the dark haired man shouted a few seconds later,
"He's gone!"

Daniel's heart jumped at his announcement. Jack had escaped, maybe there
was hope for the Colonel yet, but the Slav's response wiped any hint of
a smile from the man's face. "Don't worry, he can't have got far and
he's hardly going to leave his friend behind, is he?" The man gloated,
"After all, this is the one who rescued him from Kheops!" Daniel's hopes
were shattered as he realised he was about to become a pawn in Jack's
final downfall.

~~~~~~~~~~
 

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