Author's Note: Here's the next chapter! I just wish to remind you, my faithful readers, that as a college student completing his final semester, real life must take precedence right now. I promise to finish this story, but you'll have to be patient. And now, on with the show!

The atmosphere on the ride back to the 4077th was almost as apprehensive as the ride to the crash site had been. Margaret had clearly seen the relief on her patients' face when they'd uncovered the strange craft, and had also seen the disappointment on their faces when they heard Colonel Carter's assessment of the damage. But also present was a determination to fix the ship, and faith in Colonel Carter's abilities to do so. Margaret still found it amazing that all three men listened to the Colonel as much as they did.

Apparently, Pierce did, too. "So Colonel Carter is the brains of the team?"

Margaret wanted to hit him. Even though he wasn't regular Army, he still should know better than to question a superior officer. (Not that that had stopped him before…) And hadn't they already gone through the intelligence of women "issue" with Inga and herself?

Surprisingly, General O'Neill didn't bite the captain's head off. "Yup. And after eight years, I've learned to trust her. Always." The emphasis on the last word was meant as a warning, and Pierce got the hint.

Margaret, not feeling at all sorry for Pierce, was elated to find another high-ranking officer who, like Colonel Potter, listened to the women under his command. Then she realized what he'd said. "Eight years? You've worked together for that long?"

"Boggles the mind, don't it?" the General replied, smirking. "Our former CO was a big believer in 'if it ain't broke, don't fix it'."

Obviously, Margaret thought. In the military where transfers were a way of life, for a team to be together for even eight months was almost unheard of.

Lost in her own thoughts, she didn't become aware of her surroundings again until she felt the jeep speed up. "Pierce, what--?" Then she heard it: the distinct thunk-thunk-thunk of the choppers.

Taking a good look at her surroundings, she realized that they were almost back at the camp. Up ahead, Hunnicutt's jeep was likewise accelerating. In no time, they were pulling into the compound behind an ambulance already parked there. Before Pierce had even stopped the vehicle completely, Margaret was scrambling out to help with triage. The first stretcher she saw was a simple gunshot wound to the shoulder. "Corpsmen!" she called.

"We can get that Major," a voice next to her said. Turning, she was surprised to see Dr. Jackson and Colonel Carter standing beside her. Her first instinct was to protest, as she didn't know if either one of them had any training as a medic. But given how busy they were, the fact that she could hear more choppers on the way, and the fact that carrying a stretcher wasn't rocket science, Margaret wasn't about to turn down any extra hands.

"Each of you take an end," she instructed them. "Gently lift, and get him into Pre-Op." She pointed at the building. "Tell the nurse on duty to start a unit type-specific." She needn't have worried; once they picked up the stretcher Colonel Carter began giving Dr. Jackson, who was walking backwards, directions. Margaret took a moment to admire their teamwork, because Dr. Jackson trusted Colonel Carter so much that he wasn't looking over his shoulder at all.

"Major!" Kellye's voice pulled her back to reality and over to the lieutenant's side.

"What is it Kellye?"

"I don't know, Major," Kellye responded. "Have a look." She lifted up the field dressing on the soldier's leg.

Margaret sucked in her breath. The smell of burned flesh was overpowering, yes, but after a career in Army hospitals and MASH units she was somewhat used to it. Her reaction was instead caused by the appearance of the man's leg. Red, angry looking skin outlined a half-moon shape that started on the outside of the leg and traveled in to almost the mid-way spot. The interior of the proscribed area looked like overdone hamburger: black and crispy. "Pierce!" she called, carefully examining the wound. The side of the leg was equally bad, and from what she could tell the wound continued around the back of the limb, as well.

"What the hell?" Pierce exclaimed as he arrived on the opposite side of the stretcher.

"I've never seen anything like it."

"We have," a voice stated from behind her. Turning from where she crouched next to the patient, she found herself looking up at General O'Neill.