Author's Notes: Firstly, a million apologies for my slowness in updating. I know the last chapter was a very bad place to leave you hanging, but a combination of factors just meant I couldn't get the next bit out any faster. Try dying computers; family visits, overseas travel, followed by jetlag; and then finding it hard to get restarted (I tried rereading from the beginning, but found myself rewriting chapter 1 instead of getting back to where I needed to focus!) to name but a few....

Still, here it finally is – no promises about the end of suspense yet however!! Hope it's not a disappointment after all that time....In any case, you get an extra long chapter by way of compensation.

Anyway, a special big thank you to the stream of reviews from people over the last week or so requesting that I update. Each one gave me another spur. So thank you Bug-eyed Monster, Tannim2, Moonbeam, Janreti, Banner, ge, Teri, Obaona, and various members of the crossgate list.

Thanks also to those who reviewed the last chapter when it came out. I will attempt hence forward to fulfill your wishes for faster updates as best I can! Will try again for those internet cookies for a fast update kitkat!!

Thanks to Shadowsdancing for the point about UNISA – it's actually the University I assigned his supervisors (at MIT) to, rather than one I planned for Methos to have attended. I actually thought it being a correspondence Uni it might be plausible that it was harder to track down the professors, but I will reconsider this!

Minty – on Sam's character. I have to admit I'm not sure I've completely got her down pat, but I do think its plausible that she would try and stop Jack being in command if she thought he was unfit for duty. I see Sam as very smart, caring but finding it difficult to show it, and a bit oblivious of the world around her – not that great at reading other people (hence her string of awful boyfriends!). But most of all she is goal oriented – and if she thought someone would get in the way of achieving the goal, she could be fairly ruthless. I think she would see acting by getting Janet to check Jack out as her duty as his 2IC to protect the SGC, and perfectly within the rules. And let's face it – Jack has done the same thing to her or worse on at least a couple of occasions (think Orlin).

Lastly, wanted to say how thrilled I was when I learnt on Friday that I'd been nominated for the SG awards in the new Gen author category (if you want to know more about the awards, or are just looking for some great fiction to read, take a look at the website: http:www.sg1-awards.com). So a big thank you to everyone who has supported this story as I've gone along. Most particularly, though, a big thank you to my betas, who have worked so hard to get me to improve the quality of this (despite my resistance) – Jezowen, Village Mystic and Teri, thank you so much. It's a real testament to their efforts above all that someone added me to the list!

Chapter 19: GAMES

Not knowing where to go, Joe drove almost randomly, and found himself heading down the Interstate towards Denver. Not a good choice, he realized as soon as he became conscious of his location. If the searchers had been the military, they could easily have set up roadblocks by now. He needed to get off the road, under cover as soon as possible.

Remember the drill, he told himself, you've only been retired a week, you stupid old man. But it was hard to think clearly when his heart was still thudding, heavy at the narrow escape.

Taking the car had been a risk. But a man with only artificial legs had no chance of evading determined searchers on foot. It was his only choice, unless he wanted to take his chances with an 'I'm dear old totally ignorant, Dad' act. Methos might be adept at bluffing, but Joe was a watcher, not a player.

All the same, he had to pay tribute to Methos' healthy instincts for self- preservation. After all, you couldn't call it paranoia if people really were out to get you.

Thanks to Methos' security arrangements, getting out using the car had been a calculated risk – after all there could have been cordons and roadblocks already up – but one worth taking. He'd followed the route Methos had shown him the night before – down the elevator to the basement, through the not-very-well-marked tunnel to an adjacent building, and into the car park. Of course, the night before his heart hadn't been thumping quite as loudly.

The car-park exited into a side-street two back from the building's main entrance. Luckily the searchers hadn't discovered it in time. Not that it would stop them backtracking him, he reminded himself.

Joe ran through the drill in his head. One, turn off your cell phone – while on, it can be traced. Already done. Check. Two, get your car out of sight, preferably lose it with lots of others while undercover to beat the street cameras and satellites. Three, don't go anywhere you are known, they'll check out anything they can link you with. Four, don't use any traceable credit cards. And five, don't get caught.

He saw a shopping center, and quickly turned off to head for the car-park. Fortunately it was fairly empty, so he headed for a dark corner obscured from the cameras, and got out of the car. First for some shopping, he thought, and headed into the mall. Ten minutes and a cash transaction later, he was back, proud owner of a new cell.

Next for somewhere to go. He considered his options. There were no other Watchers based in Colorado Springs; no safe-houses. And with Methos still presumably at the base, he was reluctant to leave. Hotels and the like were out – they would all be searched. Besides, he needed a way to get to Methos.

Quickly, he booted up the laptop, and looked up an address. He studied the map to work out how to get there. He was ready. Casually, he climbed out of the car again, picked up the screwdriver and swapped number plates, blessing the watcher emergency kit secreted in the trunk of his car.

Seconds later, he was ready to pull out. He glanced at the gas gauge. It was showing half full. Good enough, he thought. So far, so good.

"Thank you, Jacob, I really appreciate your help," Jack said, as he absorbed Jacob/Selmak's report on the progress in restoring the SGC's operational status.

He'd dropped into the Control Room on his way to Carter's lab to get an update on how things were going. He sighed. He really hated not being able to co-ordinate the recovery from the electrical black-out generated by Lieutenant Adams' computer virus himself. But finding out exactly why Adams had attempted to sabotage the SGC – and tracking down whatever it was in orbit that was playing catch with their satellites – was a higher priority.

Besides, he was finding a certain perverse pleasure in watching the former two-star General struggle to get the SGC personnel treat him as just that – and not as an alien ally of somewhat dubious status. It was a delightfully subtle revenge for those snide put-downs the Tok'ra specialized in. Not to mention the unspoken but ever-present threat of what would happen if Sam was ever seriously hurt – mentally or physically - as a result of his actions or while under his command.

Jack surveyed the Control Room once more, half expecting the lights to suddenly start flashing an alarm, but everything remained calm. Better touch base with General Hammond before I head out, he decided. He picked up the phone.

"Good morning, Sir. Just a routine check-in," he said. "Any luck picking up our friend?" Jack inquired, on the off-chance that there had been a breakthrough they hadn't yet had time to inform him of.

"No, Jack, I'm afraid he got away," the General replied in a disgruntled tone. "And took the hard-drive from the computer in the apartment with him – by the looks of it, he was using a detachable lap-top. But on the plus side, he may not be that hard to find – he's probably disabled. They found a wheelchair, and it looks like the place was set up for it."

"Well that should certainly make him a bit easier to find. What about the rest of the place?"

"Nothing specific yet that you can use, but the apartment itself seems to be a bit of a treasure-trove. Lieutenant Adams was evidently planning to be here for the long-haul."

"What have they found, Sir?" Jack inquired.

"Books on every imaginable subject, and in multiple languages, according to the search team. I'm rounding up a linguist to help them. A lot of fairly valuable looking art work. And more than a few stray weapons – swords, guns, and a lot more. They've only just gone in, but we seem to have struck pay-dirt."

"Excellent, Sir. Daniel could certainly use some help. Adams is going to be hard to crack."

"How about your situation, Colonel?" the General inquired.

"Well, Carter's given an all-clear on the computers, and the security systems are all back online, but I've ordered another sweep of the base before we go back to full operational status. Now that we've got a starting point, Sam's working on setting up the parameters for closer surveillance on the spaceship or whatever it is up there and Space Command is going to call me as soon as they think they are ready to start continuous tracking, Sir."

"Of course, Jack. The sooner we can keep a proper eye on that thing up there the better I'll feel. Any more details you can give me on the object?"

"No, Sir. We know it's big, and we've got a location, but that's really about all we've got so far."

"Right, well, keep me appraised of any developments."

"We'll do our best to work it out, Sir," Jack replied. "By the way, Sir," he added. "What have you done with Colonel Edwards? I could do with some help if he's suitably contrite and prepared to follow orders."

"I doubt that he is, Jack," Hammond replied. "Anyway, I haven't had a chance to talk to him yet. A few hours to reflect on his sins won't do him any harm. Sorry, Jack, you'll just have to do the best you can."

"Of course, Sir."

Joe pulled up in front of the brownstone apartment block and considered his options. He really needed to get his car out of sight. He drove around to the side entrance, and pushed the button to contact the security guard.

"I'm here to visit Dr Jackson's house, "he said. "I'm a friend, and he asked me to take care of a few things for him."

"Sure," said a disembodied voice. "Drive right on in. He called to say to expect someone to drop on by."

This was turning out to be a lot easier than he had expected.

Daniel entered the room nervously, and stared at the bars of the cell that separated him from his friend. His former friend, he reminded himself.

He wondered what had happened to turn the shy, naïve graduate student who had been one of his few friends into the enemy he now faced. Or had it all just been an act back then?

It was hard to reconcile the images in his head. When they'd been students together in Paris, Adam had been one of the few people who could match Daniel for speed of learning, for making the intuitive leaps that solved longstanding linguistic puzzles. And Adam – unlike Daniel – hadn't been that anxious to complete his thesis quickly. Instead he had both practiced and preached the virtues of living the traditional student life - which he argued, consisted of hanging out at bars and bookshops, and drinking beer.

Daniel's eyes swept around the room. Apart from the cell, with its bunk and toilet, it was stark and empty. The only furniture consisted of the straight-backed chairs placed strategically in the corners occupied by the guards. The utter silence - apart from the ever-present hiss of the air- conditioning - was a far-cry from the busy, warm Paris streets of his memory.

Daniel had been a regular member of Adam's little Parisian group. They had spent hours debating everything under the sun. And playing silly linguistic games, contorting the voices into all the sounds human vocal chords could make. And had argued about silly things, like the origin of the pyramids, and how to solve the mystery of Linear B. Not so silly in retrospect of course.

Through the monitor, in black and white, Adam had looked just as he had when they had studied together – thin and earnest, his aquiline nose poised as if to sniff out another good linguistic puzzle to solve. It was really only the hair that was different in the flesh, Daniel thought. Why on earth had he chosen to go red? Well, he guessed, it certainly drew the eyes away from his face.

And that was the other thing. Where Adam Pierson's eyes had been soft, shy, or alight with humor, those of the man in the cell were not. They were hard eyes – old eyes.

Daniel looked into the cell, trying to see if there was more he could understand from seeing him in person. But the body stretched out on the bed refused to morph into something less familiar.

"So, Daniel, are you actually going to ask me some questions?" His voice was soft, almost gentle.

Yet it was Adam's voice, not the deeper, mid-Atlantic drawl of Lieutenant Adams. Daniel almost jumped, jolted out of his musings. It really was Adam.

"So was it all just an act back then?" Daniel demanded reflexively. "Were you truly a friend, or working for them even then?"

He was met with a stony silence.

"I thought you were willing to answer some questions?" he said. Adam appeared to ponder for a moment.

"No Daniel, I simply asked if you were going to ask me something instead of just standing there. I didn't say I'd give you anything. Certainly not questions which you already know the answer to."

"Do I?" Daniel shot back. He couldn't help it coming out sounding like a querulous old man. What did Adam mean, he knew the answer? Nothing seemed in the least bit clear, most definitely not Adam's behavior. He glared once again at Adam, but it had no effect.

Daniel considered. Was he trying to suggest that it hadn't been an act? He wanted to believe – it would be so much easier than accepting the alternative.

But it simply didn't stack up. For it was obvious now, in retrospect, that Adam had known much more than he'd let out back then. How much more and how, though? It was also obvious that Adam wasn't going to enlighten him willingly any time soon.

Daniel knew from experience that if Adam didn't want to answer a question, no amount of persuasion - alcoholic or otherwise – would get him to budge. There was no reason to think that had changed. So he needed to try the indirect approach. He gave Adam his most imploring look.

"So you're saying that if I try and interrogate you, you're not going to respond?" Daniel said. He craned over to see Adam's face.

"Probably not, "came the response from the prone figure, sounding as if from a great distance.

"Well, how about I just talk then?" Daniel replied. "Feel free to join in any time."

Sam sighed to herself as she worked. She felt tired and depressed. She had, after all, now been on duty for almost twenty four hours. Worse, she hadn't been able to make sense of the data Adams had subverted - until the Colonel had waltzed in and asked her a few, seemingly simple, questions. She'd almost fallen for it to, probably would have too, except for her new heightened awareness of his hidden abilities.

So instead of her simply going back to work and solving it herself, having been given the vital nudge by the Colonel, she'd cornered him and made him help work it through. In a few short minutes they'd worked out what Adams had done, untangled the mess, and pinpointed the location of what they now assumed was an alien spaceship in orbit above them.

She thought back over their missions, and the hours they had spent together in this lab. Now, knowing what to look for, she remembered all his odd but insightful questions, the ones that had so often pointed her to the solution. She remembered the many times he had played with the equipment despite her attempts to stop him, only to find the right configuration as if by serendipity as soon as he had left.

How often had he solved her problem for her without her even realizing it? She felt like a fool for having been suckered by his apparent inability to remember the official planetary designations and his malapropisms.

Sam tried to focus her mind back on the job. Well, even if he had helped her, it had still been her efforts that had delivered the product. She tried to comfort herself: it was just a case of genuine, perfectly appropriate scientific collaboration. Except of course that she'd never even realized it was happening, let alone acknowledged his contributions. She couldn't help feeling embarrassed.

Sam forced herself to run down her mental checklist of things to do in an effort to cut off the train of thought. She realized she had better check up on Mason's progress. Reaching over, she clicked on the button on the radio. "Sgt Mason, this is Major Carter. Report please, Over."

"Mason, reporting, Ma'am," he said. "I'm just heading for the armory now. I've checked the East side rooms, but I wanted to do a double-check in here. Security report that he spent more time than can reasonably be accounted for collecting up his stash, and it would be pretty easy to rig a bomb with the stuff here. Estimate another half hour to complete the inventory, Ma'am, then I'll resume the rest of the search . Over"

"Very well, Sergeant, carry on. Let me know as soon as you've finished. Over and out."

She quickly reported in to her father, and passed on the update, then turned back to her computer. She wanted to make some progress before the Colonel returned.

Methos propped his hands under his head so he could discretely watch his interrogator. Daniel, for his part, was in the process of pulling a chair, provided courtesy of one of the guards, up in front of the cell. He flopped down into it. Methos waited as Daniel started fiddling with his glasses.

In lots of ways Daniel had changed beyond recognition, and for the better. He looked tanned, fit, and well muscled, although tired. Still, a far-cry from the shy, awkward student he had known so many years ago..

But some things clearly hadn't changed, and Daniel fiddling with his glasses when he was nervous or wanted to think something through was one of them.

Methos watched him work it through. Why was Daniel here, he wondered for the hundredth time. Was he being forced? Had he been brainwashed? Or had he just been subverted by the knowledge on offer, the chance to prove all of his theories?

He really hadn't planned to play ball with his interrogators. But Daniel represented an opportunity he couldn't reject outright. He wanted to know – needed to know – what had happened to Daniel.

He made so few mortal friends. And most of them – like Daniel – he was forced to abandon after only a few years when he moved on to his next identity. With each one, he suffered a little death before their all-too- soon real death. He relished, therefore, every scrap of information he was able to turn up on his former companions. The Internet age was proving a real boon to his desperate curiosity, his hunger to know how things turned out before yet another person lived only in his thoughts and memories, or in the pages of his journals.

Besides, if he talked to Daniel now he might glean some intelligence on the activities of the SGC that could come in handy in the mopping up operation. Assuming of course that he survived the coming explosion.

Yeah, okay, so that was all just rationalization. But at worst, listening to Daniel would provide him with a distraction - it was getting harder to maintain his equanimity as the clock ticked down. He stretched himself out, trying to look comfortable.

"Right, well," Daniel said, "You remember of course my crazy theories about the age of the pyramids – you know, 10,000 years old, not 3,000? Built by aliens? Well, seems I was right. But of course you knew that, or why would you be here?"

Methos carefully smoothed his face to blandness, and cocked an eyebrow back to Daniel. He pulled an arm out from under his head, and waved his hand to invite him to continue.

"And it seems some other people thought my theories weren't so crazy at all – the military had the evidence all along, in the form of a stone circle discovered in Giza back in 1928. They've been trying to work out how to use it on and off since the 1940s."

Poor Daniel, Methos thought to himself. All those lonely years being an academic outcast, when the proof of everything he believed had just been sitting there. They must have found it easy to recruit him. All the same, he was getting some useful intelligence from this. He decided to give Daniel something, and so pulled himself up to sit cross- legged on the bed. Well, a posture of involvement was the first stage of active listening wasn't it?

Daniel swallowed as he met Methos' eyes, but continued. "Then a few years ago, Professor Langford's daughter, Catherine, recruited me for the project after I'd been tossed out of Columbia. I figured it out and we made it work. It was a gateway, capable of taking us to other planets."

So the military had managed to get the Chapp'ai to work, courtesy of Danny boy. "Except of course that there was a catch," Daniel continued. He sat up straighter in the chair.

Oh, yes, there was a catch alright, Methos affirmed to himself. A snaky, insidious one. He found himself nodding at Daniel. He couldn't, though, stop the memories of the Goa'uld from welling up within him.

It must have been a real shock for the military to find that all those 50s sci-fi horror films were right - the galaxy was not a safe place to be. No benign United Federation of Planets had been waiting for them; no carefully reserved Vulcans waiting to guide them in the ways of peace.

"Seems some evil aliens called the Goa'uld rule much of our galaxy. They are parasites, using humans as both hosts and slaves. Earth had been a prime base for one of the most powerful of them, named Ra. But for some reason or other - we're not sure exactly what happened - they abandoned it around 8,000 years ago."

Methos watched, controlling his surprise as Daniel stood up abruptly, and started pacing up and down the narrow corridor in front of the cell. This wasn't exactly the language he would have expected from a Goa'uld stooge to use to describe the rebellion against Ra. Nor would he expect this level of agitation from someone under the influence of Nish'ta or some other drug.

After a moment, Daniel sat down again and went on. "Unfortunately when we reactivated the Gate, they found us again. On our first trip, we went to the planet Abydos, and managed to destroy Ra. But then Apophis came to visit and it just escalated from there."

So Apophis had moved in and taken over from Ra. The question of course, was just who this 'we' consisted of – which Goa'uld had used them to take out Ra? Methos found himself leaning closer to the bars. Had the mystery God in turn been destroyed by Apophis, or was it Apophis he was now dealing with? Either way, it was clear that humanity's quest for knowledge had caused it to dig its own grave.

Ah, curiosity, he thought. The undoing of us all. It made sense now. He felt his anger at the sheer pointlessness of it all start to boil up. Could he have stopped it earlier if he had only told Daniel the truth, he wondered? It was a bitter thought.

Jack watched the screen wearily, and grimaced as his knees protested the cramped posture he had had to adopt to see the screen perched high above his head. Daniel hadn't exactly gotten Adams talking, but Adams did looked engaged, even a little agitated. It was progress of a kind, he supposed. And Daniel was really getting into the role he had assigned him to. One team member back on board, two to go.

He sighed. His latest visit to Carter just seemed to have reinforced the tensions in their relationship. Well, she would just have to get over it, he thought, he really couldn't deal with it now, so he returned to watching Daniel attempting to romance the stone.

"Anyway, to cut a long story short, the military set up this base and formed teams to fight Apophis and the System Lords," Daniel said, the tinny sound echoing through the loudspeakers at the security station. "We go out and explore the galaxy, looking for allies and technology to protect Earth from the Goa'uld. I'm on one of those teams, SG-1, along with Colonel O'Neill, Major Carter and Teal'c."

Pay dirt! Jack thought as he watched Adams pull himself up abruptly from the bunk. Adams stalked over to look at Daniel through the bars.

"Well that's a very nice little fairy tale," Adams spat. "Except that somehow or other you seem to have missed out the bit where Apophis became your God. Come on, Daniel, you were doing so well! Surely you can do better than that? I've seen Apophis' Jaffa, even his first Prime, walking your corridors. So cut the bullshit, Daniel, and tell me why you're bothering to tell me this rubbish."

Well, well, well. At least they now had confirmation that Adams knew more than he was letting on. And if he knew about the Goa'uld, even recognized Apophis' symbol...they were clearly on the right track. The real question was just who Adams was working for, what the connection to the ship in orbit was.

Jack watched as Adams glared another moment then abruptly turned his back to the camera. Jack reached and flicked to the other camera, but it was too late. Adams' face was completely controlled.

Jack was torn. He really wanted to stay and watch this play out. But he also needed to check up on Space Control's progress. Well, if there was another Goa'uld in play, it wasn't all that likely that Daniel would persuade Adams to change sides or give them much more information any time soon. It sure looked like this little show had a way to play out before the denouement. He hurried out, heading towards the elevators.
Sam picked up the jangling phone distractedly, and used her free hand to finish typing the keystrokes to complete her program. She cursed to herself as the fingers not accustomed to reaching so far across the keyboard hit the wrong key; she backspaced, wedging the phone between her shoulder and her neck to free her other hand.

"Major Carter, "Teal'c's bass boomed down the line.

"Yes, Teal'c, what can I do for you?" she said automatically, as she finally was able to hit the return key and set the program to run. She reclaimed the phone with her hand and turned her attention to Teal'c's voice.

"I am preparing to send you the data from my flight recorder. The technicians have found some interesting anomalies in the data which they are unable to interpret. I believe you may be better placed to assess this material. Is that acceptable?"

Sam shifted the receiver in her ear, and watched as the screen in front of her spun through rows of code. Teal'c's material would provide a useful diversion while she waited for the results of her program.

"Sure, Teal'c, by all means! I've pretty much gone as far as I can with the data I've got from NORAD so far, I'm just waiting for the programs to finish running. Anyway, maybe your stuff will help fill in another piece of the puzzle. Just send it to my computer over the secure link."

She couldn't help glancing across at her PC – the computer that had almost led to the destruction of the SGC.

"I am aware of the procedure, Major Carter," Teal'c replied. "I was not sure, however, that your computers had been secured as yet. Have you now completed your checks of the system?"

She accepted his gentle rebuke. Teal'c had carefully learnt all of their procedures, and always had a logical reason for any failure to follow them.

"Yes, the computers are all fine," she replied. "I've been working on the data the Colonel compiled from NORAD's tracking systems."

She couldn't help grimacing as she mentioned Colonel O'Neill's name. There was no point complaining about his behavior to Teal'c, though. He would undoubtedly point out that the Colonel's skills and intelligence were obvious to anyone who had eyes to observe. In fact, he had made his views clear on a number of occasions now that she thought about it. She wondered how to let Teal'c know of her chagrin at her failure to listen to him more closely.

"Very well, Major Carter," Teal'c said. "I will transmit the data immediately."

Sam walked over to the other computer to check that the transmission was coming through. She unlocked the screen, and clicked into the icon for the link. The data unfolded on the screen in front of her.

"I've got it Teal'c, it looks fine. I'll take a look at it and get back to you if I find anything." An idea occurred to her. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" Sam asked. "You know you are welcome to use my house if you need a break from Patterson, since you can't come back to the SGC at the moment."

"Thank you, Major Carter. In fact, Daniel Jackson has already made the same offer. I was considering visiting his abode shortly as I understand our 'shift' is about to be stood down. As his accommodation is closer to Patterson Air Force Base, I believe it will prove more convenient for my needs. Nonetheless, I thank you for your offer of hospitality."

Sam wondered whether she should take his words at face value, or whether his reluctance to accept her invitation was an unspoken reproof for her earlier behavior. No, she was getting too paranoid, she decided. Teal'c hadn't even been on the base for most of the events of the last thirty six hours.

"Well, let me know if there's anything I can do. Bye, Teal'c."

Methos glanced up as the camera in the corner whirred to catch his face, but his calm façade belied his inner turmoil. He turned back to face Daniel, but almost turned away again at Daniel's earnest, pleading expression.

"Look, Adam," he said, "you've got it all wrong. We have no God, no System Lord. I joined the SGC because Apophis took my wife and brother-in- law and made them hosts."

Methos couldn't help glaring back at him angrily.

"Daniel, I'm not a babe in the woods here. I know what glowing eyes mean. And I saw your 'General Carter's' eyes glow. Not to mention the Jaffa I've seen wandering around the base. And Teal'c sounds AWFULLY like a Jaffa name to me. Nothing you've said explains what I've seen for myself on this base."

He tried switching to Dutch. It was Daniel's native language after all – and modern languages were far less likely to be known by the Goa'uld than the ancient Earth ones. "Are you under surveillance, are you being forced to do this Daniel?" he asked intently.

"No!, "Daniel exclaimed in the same language. "Why do you think that? Everything I've told you is true. Let me explain."

"You don't need to explain, Daniel," Methos said angrily, but the soft sounds of the language seemed to help him regain his composure. "Just tell me if there is a way you can talk. The truth is you went out into the galaxy, happy to prove your theories right, and got caught. But it's not too late, I can help you," he pleaded.

"You don't understand," Daniel replied, still in Dutch, "the Tok'ra and Jaffa are here to help us."

Methos felt the anger finally run out, leaving him completely deflated. He reverted to English. "I know about the effects of Nish'ta and the other techniques the Goa'uld use. I suppose I can't really blame you," he said, staring at his feet.

"I need to explain, Adam," Daniel replied sharply. "Since you have it totally wrong. But how about you tell me something. How do you know about the Goa'uld? And who are you working for? Who are you really?"

Methos lifted his eyes up from the ground, and stared hard at Daniel. How could he get through to him? He swapped to Goa'uld, so there could be no mistake.

"I'm not working for anyone, Daniel, " he replied. "It's obvious now that you went through the Chapp'ai, and brought back the enemy. You've infiltrated the military, managed to set up this base for your invasion. I saw the Asgard ship you managed to destroy crash into the Pacific Ocean." He dropped his eyes, and sat back down on the bunk. "I thought I was helping when I encouraged you with your theories. And I had so hoped I was in time," he said, more to himself than to Daniel. "Earth shouldn't have to go through that again."

He watched as Daniel shook his head in apparent disbelief. Truth, delusion or good acting? He couldn't decide. He let the bitterness he felt seep into his voice.

"And as for how I know all of this, well I WAS Goa'uld. Until the Asgard freed me. So now I'm just hoping that emergency signal I set off will bring Thor to the rescue before it's too late for Earth once more."

Sam looked to see Janet come into the room, carrying two cups of steaming coffee.

"Knock, knock," Janet said. "Sorry to interrupt, but I thought I should prescribe you a caffeine hit. How's it going?"

Sam almost snatched the mug from Janet's hands, gratefully inhaling the steam.

"Thanks, Janet, I really appreciate it. I'd just gotten the Colonel's data re-analyzed when Teal'c sent me the flight recorder data from his mission to try and make sense of. Which it isn't, at least so far."

"Oh," said Janet. "Then maybe I should leave you to it. I was actually passing by to see if you could take a look at the readings I got on Lt Adams, but it sounds like you've got enough on your plate. Still, at least the computers are okay I take it?"

"Yes, no problems there at least, "Sam replied. "Go ahead and show me your data, Janet, I'm not making any headway on any of the rest of the stuff I've got here. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I was actually about to call and see if Colonel O'Neill was free yet to come and help."

"Still can't get used to Smart-Jack?" Janet queried. "Have to admit, he really has that dumb act down pat. But don't let it get you down. I mean, it's not as if he did all your work for you, is it? Besides, he has been at it a few more years than you. You know he used to head up Space Command in NORAD, don't you?"

"You're kidding! How come you never told me that before, Janet?"

"Well, it was in his medical file, but I just assumed it was a cover story for his covert ops assignments. I checked his open record though, now that we know. After Iraq, Jack went back, did his PhD in astronomy, took a few other assignments with NORAD; ended up back here."

"So how come he had retired before Daniel managed to activate the Stargate the first time?" Sam queried. "I mean, I can understand that he wasn't up to active duty on a covert ops team after Charlie's death, but if he was really working as a scientist, couldn't they have just given him a research job?"

Sam watched as Janet hesitated for a moment. "Well, reading between the lines of his file I'd say he had a serious falling out with some of his staff – and his commanding officer – and retired before they could court- marshal him."

Sam rolled her eyes. "Well I can certainly believe that, "she replied. "I wonder what it was over? Anyway, Janet, I really had better get back to work. Do you want to show me your data?"

"I've got it here, "Janet replied, handing over a data stick. "It's the energy readings from Adams I'm puzzled over. His tests mostly come up normal, except for this energy-field he gives out. It doesn't fit any of the parameters we've collected do far, so I wanted to see if you had any ideas."

Sam plugged in the data, and brought it up on the screen. "Hmm," she said, "that's certainly unusual. Look at those odd fluctuations in the reading. There's almost a pattern to it. It actually reminds me of the stuff Teal'c just sent me. Hang on a second."

She quickly split the screen, and put the two patterns up next to each other.

"Wow, look at that, Janet. This is incredible. They are resonating at exactly the same frequency, and the wave pattern is in sync, except for those surges there."

Sam felt Janet leaning over her shoulder, so she pointed to the spikes in the data. "And I'm betting that's when Teal'c's craft entered the object's space," she said.

Sam clicked on a few keys in order to pull up the timer for the two datasets, then reran the data from the beginning. "Yes," she said triumphantly. "It is. So we do have a connection between the object and the lieutenant."

Janet stared at the data for another moment, then moved around to look at Sam. "Are you sure its not just coincidence?" Janet queried.

Sam shook her head before Janet had even finished talking. "No way. The odds of a coincidence would have to be something like a trillion to one. He has to come from that object. We have the proof that he's alien."

"Then we'd better alert everyone straightaway," Janet replied. "You contact General Hammond, and I'll go tell the Colonel and Daniel. It might help Daniel's interrogation of Adams."

"All right, Janet, agreed," she said to Janet's back as the doctor headed out the door. "And thanks for the coffee," she called.

Methos watched as disbelief then what looked suspiciously like awe flooded over Daniel's face at the revelation that he had been a Goa'uld. He wanted to believe it was a genuine reaction. But he wasn't sure that he could afford to.

"You were Goa'uld!" Daniel parroted back at him, gulping. "Then we are on the same side!" he said, waving his hands in the air.

"Maybe," Methos replied stiffly, "but you need to prove it."

"Look, hopefully Thor will show up pretty soon and prove it to you," Daniel said excitedly.

Methos looked at him hopefully. Daniel certainly sounded confident. His puppy dog eyes shone with apparent sincerity. But then, if the Asgard were truly their allies, why had O'Neill reacted so badly when he had set the signal off?

"Unless they're in the middle of another crisis with the Replicators. We've been expecting him before now."

"I see," Methos said, schooling his face to hide his disappointment. For a moment there he had almost been convinced. "So if the Asgard don't turn up, its not because you've managed to destroy them, its because they have some other enemy they are fighting. Very credible."

"Look, Adam," Daniel said earnestly. "If you saw the Belisknor crash, maybe you saw the remains of metallic bug things? The Asgard have been fighting them for some time now – and they're losing. We've been trying to help – it seems our primitive approaches can sometimes work better against them than the Asgard's sophisticated approaches."

"Daniel, all I saw was one of the most sophisticated spacecraft in the galaxy crash into the Earth's atmosphere. And the military busily salvaging whatever they could. Anyway, you still haven't explained away the Jaffa and Goa'uld I've seen on the base."

"It started with Teal'c - he saved us from Apophis and has been working with us ever since to free his people. We have a large group of rebel Jaffa working with us and the Tok'ra at our off-world base," Daniel replied. "They're helping us."

Yeah right, Methos thought to himself. He'd 'helped' a few people in his time too. They hadn't much appreciated the attention. He couldn't help probing Daniel's story though.

"Just what is this 'against Ra' you keep talking about Daniel. I've never heard the expression before."

"The Tok'ra are a group of symbiotes dedicated to fighting the System Lords and all they stand for. You've met General Carter/Selmak. They may be snakes, but they reject goa'uld ways – they only take voluntary hosts, and share the host's body equally."

This was too much, Methos thought. How could Daniel look at him so earnestly and say something like that with a straight face? He looked like one of those late night tele-sales hosts, desperate to convince you that the latest piece of equipment would transform your abs, no effort required. "Time share Goa'uld!" he drawled. "I love it. Do keep going Daniel, I can't wait to hear more." He smothered a laugh.

"So we've finally got something concrete, I hear Carter?" Jack said, peering into Carter's lab.

"Yes, Sir," Major Carter replied, "Although I'm not really sure how to interpret it. The unusual aura Lieutenant Adams is projecting has very similar characteristics to the force-field or whatever it is that surrounds our mystery object. Not the same strength or anything of course, but still, its too unusual to be a coincidence."

"So what conclusion do you draw from this, Major?"

"Well, Sir, Janet and I have actually been working on using electrical field detection as a security device for the Gate, since aliens typically have fields with different strengths to humans. We know that every living thing carries an electrical charge of some sort. The range of electrical fields our bodies generate tends to be pretty consistent, not withstanding the various claims about auras. But aliens tend to be different – Teal'c for example, simply doesn't fit the standard human parameters, nor did Jonas."

"Get to the point, Major," Jack grated out impatiently. "I SO don't need this lecture right now."

"Sorry, Sir. Of course not." Sam looked as if she had been kicked, and he cringed.

"Sorry, Carter, I didn't mean to snap, but I have actually read your reports on this work. And understood them, even if I mightn't have let on." He grinned disarmingly at her. She regained some color in her face. "So the bottom line is?" he prompted.

"Adams is from the same race that built the object, Sir. It seems the logical conclusion."

"Right, good work. Stay on it then, Major" he said. "I'll go see what Adams has to say to this."

Methos sobered. Daniel's story was so over-the-top that it hardly seemed worth trying to sell to him – unless it really was true. Rebel Jaffa he could believe in – indeed, it was extraordinary that the Goa'uld had managed to keep the Jaffa in line as long as they had, even with their genetically programmed dependence on the larval Goa'uld, the prim'ta, to provide their immune systems.

The so-called Tok'ra though? He would have thought that the genetic memory that drove the Goa'uld would prevent them from turning on each other, or changing fundamentally. But then nature had to provide ways for species to evolve if they were to survive.

He tried to apply Holmesian logic – if you eliminate the impossible then whatever explanation was left, no matter how unlikely must be true. The problem was, he had no basis yet on which to eliminate even the obvious explanation that a Goa'uld had simply taken over and was using them.

All the same, why go to the bother of concocting such an amazing story? And if what Daniel was speaking the truth – and it did all fit, he had to admit – then he needed to act quickly. He glanced down at his watch. He was running out of time to decide what to believe.

"And you expect me to believe your frantic fabrications, just like that? Without any proof whatsoever?" he demanded.

"No," cut in the Colonel's voice.

Methos froze. He had been so focused on Daniel, he hadn't even heard the Colonel enter the room. The Colonel walked up to Daniel, put an arm on his shoulder, squeezed it gently, then turned back to face Methos.

Methos glared back at him.

"We don't expect you to believe anything, "Colonel O'Neill said. "It's you who have the explaining to do. You've tried to put this base out of action, injured half a dozen of my men, and now we can prove that it's your ship up there in orbit. So stop toying with us, and tell us who, exactly, you are working for, and why your ship is attacking defenses."
So, did you like first installment of the Danny-Methos stand-off??