UNENDING: MITCHELL

He ran.

Along the corridors, he ran. Through the storage bays, the engine rooms, the labs, the hangar decks, he ran. Up the gangways, and emergency stairwells. Through the mess hall, along the crew deck, up to the bridge, circle twice, exit through the conference room, along the corridor by the officers' quarters, down the emergency stairwell, and back through the mess. Everywhere there was breathable air, he ran.

He felt General Landry's eyes on him as he passed the arboretum. Could he avoid the General tonight? One more lecture on patience and he would go stark raving mad! Give Colonel Carter time, Landry kept saying, time to solve the problem. But time was the problem! And it had been seven months! Seven long, useless, monotonous, idle, sanity-robbing months!

He tried not to be angry with Sam. If she hadn't done what she did the Ori beam would have hit the ship, and they would all have died. He knew that; he knew she had done the right thing. At least this way they were still alive. And they had a chance. Or so he kept telling himself. But did they really? Or had Sam condemned them to a living Hell of stagnation?

Anger and frustration – and guilt – boiled up again.

So he ran. Down the long ramp into the cargo bay, across the catwalk above the dormant naquadah reactors, through the hanger under the wings of the dozen X-305's housed there.

He ran on and on…