"Klinger!"

"Yes, oh top-of-the-heap?" Corporal Maxwell Q. Klinger, new company clerk, pushed the door to his CO's office open. It was about 2300 (11 pm in civilian time), but Max had already learned that being clerk was a 24/7 job.

"I want you to make some phone calls. See if anyone knows anything about a General Jack O'Neill and Lt. Colonel Samantha Carter of the United States Air Force, Dr. Daniel Jackson, or a Murray, no last name."

"Our visitors in the VIP tent?" Klinger guessed. The colonel had returned to his office in a huff earlier following a talk with those folks; apparently they'd been less than forthcoming with details of how they ended up here. Then something that the Colonel had said clicked. "A General?"

Potter nodded. "Yes. And neither he nor the others are willing to give me the answers I need, so we need to go looking."

"Yes sir," Max acknowledged, his mind already working on how to convince the new officer to sign off on a Section 8.

One thing to be said for Colonel Potter: he knew his people. "Can the cons, Klinger. Find out where those people are from and how the heck they wound up here!"

"Yes sir," Max sighed. "Does the colonel want me to do this immediately or can it wait until morning?"

"The sooner the better, son."

"Yes sir." Klinger started for his desk, but was stopped when Potter spoke again.

"Klinger, just ask the questions tonight and have people call you back. I know that it's late."

"Yes sir. Thank you sir." Klinger made it to the desk and moved a pile of forms that were covering the phone. Fighting to keep his eyes open, he managed to crank up the power and patch through to the 8063rd. "Hello, Sparky? Klinger here. Look, can you put me through to the Air Force?"

The strangers remained in the VIP tent while Sherman Potter waited for answers to Klinger's inquiries. None came in the morning, but a fresh batch of wounded arrived, forcing everyone to scrub up and miss lunch.

"Well, at least the cook didn't get his usual shot at killing us," Hawkeye quipped as he walked with Potter, BJ, Margaret, and Charles over to the Mess Tent for coffee.

"Colonel Potter! Sir!" Klinger's voice caused Sherman to stop at the door and turn around. The clerk was running over from the office with a sheet of paper in his hand.

"What is it, Klinger?" he asked as the man caught up. "Any news?"

"So far, no one knows anything. The Air Force folks I spoke with said that if there was a general of theirs in the area, they didn't know about it."

Potter didn't like the sound of that. "What about the names? Do they have any officers of the names I gave you?"

"The closest was a Second Lieutenant Jacob Carter who's currently in Guam. No O'Neill, no Samantha Carter."

"Maybe she's a relative," BJ suggested as he held the door open. The others had already gone in, grabbed their drinks, and were sitting down.

Potter nodded his thanks to the young man and entered, heading for the serving line. "Maybe," he agreed, "but the Air Force should still know if she's an officer. What about the others?"

"Since we don't have a last name for him, nothing's turned up on Murray. And we have an almost-match for Dr. Jackson. Sparky says that he's heard of a Dr. Melburn Jackson, who's an archaeologist back in the States."

The last bit of news had been delivered as the trio reached the table the others were sitting at. "So you're saying you've got nothing," Pierce commented.

"Unfortunately," Klinger agreed. "But I'm still waiting for a couple of calls to come in."

"Thanks son," Sherman replied. "Better go back and wait." Klinger nodded and moved off as Potter filled in the others on the details they missed.

"I don't think I like this," Pierce spoke up. "Not only do we have four strangers drop in unannounced, two of whom are supposedly very high-ranking officers in the Air Force, but said Air Force doesn't know anything about any of them!"

"I don't like it either son," Sherman assured the younger man. "But what can we do?"

"Is it worth tracing those near misses?" Margaret asked.

"I don't see how we can't." Potter sipped his coffee. "I need to know if those people are dangerous."

"Colonel," Winchester spoke up, "Mother is an avid scholar of ancient society; she may have heard of Dr. Jackson. With your permission, I will call her in Boston and inquire."

"Permission granted," Sherman agreed. The major could be pompous in the extreme, but was a decent surgeon and could occasionally prove useful outside the operating room, as well. "Head on over to the office and take care of it ASAP. And while you're at it, tell Klinger to try to reach Lieutenant Carter on Guam."

"Margaret, gentlemen." Winchester stood and made his way out of the tent.

"What do we do in the meantime?" Hunnicutt asked.

Sherman took a sip of his coffee before replying. "Let's just keep 'em in the VIP tent for right now. I don't want them running around until we know that they can be trusted."

"What about calling Intelligence?" Margaret asked. "If they're enemy spies someone needs to come take charge of them."

"No Intelligence," Pierce broke in before Sherman could say anything. "With our luck they'd send Colonel Flagg and then everything would make less sense than it does now." Beside him, Hunnicutt nodded his agreement.

"Captains," Potter addressed the two surgeons, "let's leave the command decisions to the commanding officer, shall we?" He turned to Margaret. "Pierce's point aside Major, we don't have any evidence that these people are spies. I'm not about to drag Intelligence into this unless it becomes necessary. Otherwise it's a waste of perfectly good red tape."

Margaret nodded her understanding. "If you like, sir," she offered, "I can arrange to have a nurse on duty in there at all times."

Potter nodded agreement, and the talk turned to the other patients, the latest news in Stars and Stripes, and the possibility of a cease-fire being agreed on in the near future.