"Do you mean to tell me, Major Nelson," and O'Neill deliberately folded his arms, "that this snake has disappeared like a genie in a bottle?"

Fortunately for the major, he was wearing his camo's. Cringing didn't ruin the creases because there were no creases to be ruined. The tips of his ears did flame, and Carter suppressed a sympathetic moue. She hadn't often been on the receiving end of the colonel's displeasure, but she'd had ample opportunity to observe him in action. It was one of the reasons why she tried to avoid being on the receiving end.

They were inside the cabin: SG-1, Nelson, and three of his men. O'Neill had pointedly dis-invited Frauhoffer and his people for the time being. Micaletti wanted to complain but Frauhoffer acquiesced with a single request: "Just tell me what you want to go in my report, Colonel. Wouldn't want people to go nosing about later. Isn't that right, Agent Micaletti?" And then Frauhoffer dragged his subordinate out.

Which left Nelson. "Sir, we've sealed off the area. The feds helped to set up roadblocks, so we know he's still in the area."

"Oh, really? I could bypass those roadblocks without thinking twice, Major."

More reddening. "Yes, sir. We're running down the leads that those kids gave us, the ones that tried to bust up the Emergency Room."

"And the sniper?"

"Better luck there, colonel. We found the gun that the sniper used. The fingerprints matched the host Dr. Barsamian."

"Wonderful. Where is he?"

"Sir?"

"Barsamian. Where is he?"

"Still working on it, sir."

"Work harder, Nelson. Pretend this is a TV sitcom. You have to wrap it up in half an hour, minus the commercials." O'Neill caught sight a jeep pulling in with three people in it, two looking grimly determined and the third looking uncomfortable yet equally determined. "Dismissed, Nelson. Oh, and get those men of yours who are tearing apart the terrorist camp in here. As long as he's here, I want Dr. Jackson to hear what they've found so far. Daniel," O'Neill greeted the man walking up the dirt path who was trying to pretend that he was as healthy as a horse.

"Jack." Daniel beamed. "Sam. Teal'c."

"You can stop pretending now, Daniel," O'Neill returned acidly. "First, sit down before you fall down. Second, you can tell me why you are here in a difficult to defend cabin"—and he gestured at the three holes leaking stuffing in the sofa—"and not winging your way back to Cheyenne Mountain on an Air Force special, first class, with a couple of F-16's flying escort."

"I couldn't, Jack," Daniel said as if it were the most natural thing. Carter took his arm and guided him to the wounded sofa, encouraging the archeologist to sit. Daniel sat, his knees collapsing him just a trace faster than usual. Daniel ignored that as well. "I think I've almost figured out what that paper with the Goa'uld writing says. I just need to look at it a little more."

"I sent that back to Cheyenne," O'Neill lied. Daniel just looked at him. "Oh, all right, I didn't. But there's no reason why you can't study it there as well as here."

"Yes, there is. I need a map."

"There are maps in Colorado, Daniel."

"But not local ones."

"I can get you some of those. We'll pick some up in town on the way back." O'Neill was losing the battle, and he knew it.

Daniel knew it, too. "The clue came to me in the hospital. The stuff on that paper is directions, instructions on how to find something. The system lord Serus must have hidden something around here and written a cheat sheet for himself so that he wouldn't forget where he hid it. Something important, Jack. Something that he needs. Something that he needs right now." Daniel leaned forward. "Now just what do you think a Goa'uld might want to get out of hiding? Could it possibly be something that we might like as well? Hm?"

"Sir, Daniel may be right." Carter was hooked as surely as the fish on the end of Teal'c's line. "Why else would this Goa'uld be so intent on retrieving a single piece of paper?"

"Assuming that's what he wants," O'Neill grumbled. "All right, all right! Lemme get the papers." He crossed the room, stopping in front of a carefully dilapidated old safe, twisting the dials until it opened with a creak. The safe looked old, but the innards looked shiny new and resistant to breakage. He drew out the curled up document, handing it to Daniel. "And it says—?"

"Give me a minute." Daniel was lost within an instant. Then: "Map," he requested, stretching a hand out and not looking up.

Moments later a dog-eared ratty old map was spread out across the dining table, Daniel pouring over it and referring back to the papers that Micaletti had retrieved from the terrorists' vehicle. O'Neill could almost see the neurons firing in rapid order as the linguist's brain worked in hyper-drive, translating the Goa'uld symbols faster than O'Neill could read English. He traced a finger along the mountain ridge on the map, keeping the other hand on the document to keep his place, faltering once or twice but never stopping.

They watched him slide a finger along the route one more time, just to be certain in his own mind that he hadn't erred. Then he slowed, stopped, made a false start, and stopped again.

"Daniel?"

Daniel dropped heavily into the chair that Nelson shoved behind him, still keeping his finger on the map so as not to lose his place. "This map isn't good enough."

"The newer ones aren't any better," O'Neill informed him. "Cleaner, yes, but the roads around here haven't changed any and progress has fortunately forgotten this neck of the woods. What are you looking for?"

Daniel sighed. "Then I need a topographical map. Or I need to go to here," and he stabbed his finger on the map hopefully, "to see what this Goa'uld is talking about."

O'Neill surveyed his civilian archeologist doubtfully, not liking the color—or lack thereof—in the man's face. "You're not up to a hike in the woods, Daniel. Can't you just tell us where this doohickey is? Or even what it is?"

"I'd kind of like to know that," Carter put in. She'd been having a hard time keeping quiet while Daniel worked.

One corner of Daniel's mouth quirked up. "Would you believe a Goa'uld Daughter Ship?"

"A Daughter Ship? What's that, beside the obvious?" O'Neill rocked back expectantly on his heels, Carter salivating behind him with tech-lust.

Even Teal'c was taken aback by that one. "Those particular vessels, ColonelO'Neill, have not been in use for as long as my father's father could remember. They fell out of favor as the Goa'uld Mother Ships became faster and more luxurious; there was no need for a small and fast vessel to traverse the stars. I did not realize that any still existed."

"And his life span was a wee bit longer than ours," O'Neill reminded Daniel. "Are you sure?"

"No," Daniel admitted cheerfully. "But the dates seem about right. This thing has been covered over for at least a few centuries. Serus buried it more than a millennium ago when he thought he wouldn't need it. He had gotten himself a brand new Mother Ship and decided to put the Daughter Ship in the proverbial mothballs. Things went wrong, he was forced into hiding on the wrong continent, and it's only been in the last century that transportation here on Earth has improved enough for him to feel safe to try and retrieve it. At least, that's my guess."

"Wait a minute," Carter said. "You're saying that this Goa'uld was here on North America a thousand years ago? Wouldn't he have left some trace? Something to say that a Goa'uld masquerading as a god was here?"

Daniel shrugged. "A whole bunch of tribes were wiped out or assimilated into other tribes long before the white man came. The American Indians have their spirit world, and those legends are as complete as any I've seen in Egypt or elsewhere. Who's to say that one or two of them weren't Goa'uld? Maybe the legends involving Serus died out a few centuries ago."

"Bet that pissed Serus off," O'Neill commented. "They're bad enough when people are worshiping them, but they're ten times worse when they're being ignored." He peered intently at the documents and the map, the Colonel O'Neill in command coming into action. "This should be enough to go on. They may not be as big as a Mother Ship, but it ought to be big enough to be noticeable. Major Nelson, get your people in here. You and I are going to conduct an impromptu mission. Leave two people here with Daniel—"

"Hey!"

"—and the rest of us will go to the point that Daniel has deciphered."

"Jack!"

"Carter, I realize that I specifically told you to leave all of your gadgets and doohickeys at home, that this was a vacation. Am I correct in thinking that you did not follow that order to the letter?"

Carter pinked. "Uh, yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

"I'm not. As of now, you are back on the clock and we will hit up General Hammond for more leave time so that we can get a proper vacation. Actually," and he looked at his watch, "make that as of yesterday evening. Tracking down a team member who was taken out by a Goa'uld in hiding and his lackeys fits my idea of work. Teal'c, see what you can come up with around here for low tech weapons, in case this Serus character has scrounged up a shield device as well. Major Nelson, did you bring any extra weapons for us grunts on supposed vacation?"

"Yes, sir." Nelson snapped off a salute. "And I took the liberty of bringing Teal'c's staff weapon along. With General Hammond's compliments, sir." Nelson gave a crooked grin. "I believe his exact words were, 'only Jack O'Neill could find a Goa'uld in Minnesota."

O'Neill allowed a faintly annoyed look to cross his face. "Wasn't me, major. It was Daniel."

The archeologist took advantage of his name to re-insert himself into the conversation. "I'm coming along, Jack. You need me."

But the colonel wasn't about to be swayed on this one. "Yes, Daniel, I do. But this is going to be twenty miles of jouncing over unpaved road and back country. You signed yourself out of the hospital against medical advice. You are going to stay here and rest so that I don't have to spare any men to haul your ass back to the hospital, or Doc Frasier will have my liver for breakfast." He gathered up both the map and the documents with the Goa'uld writing on it. "And I'm taking all of these things along with me so that you won't be tempted to work any more on them."

"But, Jack, I didn't finish translating the document. There's still more to figure out."

"You have perfect recall, Daniel. Use it instead of the document. Better still, take a nap until we arrive at the target."

"Jack—!"

"And when we get to where you've pointed out, I will personally call you for more instructions. But for now, Daniel, you're grounded. See? I'm taking lessons from the doc. If you're not careful, I'll show you what else she taught me." O'Neill turned to Major Nelson. "If you brought a zat gun along, leave it here with your men. It may be the only way to keep Dr. Jackson out of our hair."

They ditched the jeeps after two hours of slow driving, mostly uphill and through several morasses of trees, and pulled their backpacks out to hoof it into the area where four-wheeled vehicles wouldn't fit no matter how determined the drivers. The trees grew close enough together so that the wooded paths demanded that they proceed single file, and several times O'Neill lost the trail altogether. Both he and Teal'c cast about more than once before regaining the thread of the destination that Daniel had won for them.

O'Neill looked around. There were trees as far as the eye could see, but nothing that looked anything like what Teal'c had described as a Daughter Ship. Trees, he thought. It's always trees. Blue ones, pink ones, leaves in magenta stripes. These just happen to be trees with green leaves. On good ol' Earth.

"Larger than a Death Glider," the Jaffa had said, "yet significantly smaller than a Goa'uld Mother Ship. Its purpose was to ferry the system lords from one planet to the next in a timely fashion with enough amenities so they would not be discommoded. It contained a ring transport for easy travel back and forth to the surface as well as a small but devastating array of weaponry. A crew of ten was recommended, with sparse accommodations for an additional ten warriors. The largest room, of course, was adorned for the comfort of the system lord."

"Of course," O'Neill echoed. "Mustn't allow the snake to be uncomfortable."

"No, indeed, O'Neill." The Jaffa's eyes twinkled wickedly. "For that would result in the rest of the Jaffa being uncomfortable. Or dead."

So O'Neill surveyed the area, looking for something bigger than a bread box. Substantially bigger than a bread box.

Carter came up to him. "Daniel said there was just a little further to go, once we got to this point, sir."

"I know that, Carter. Which way?"

"He said to look for a large boulder, something that looked like a brindit." Carter stumbled over the word.

"What's a brindit?"

"Beats me, sir."

"Teal'c!"

"Yes, ColonelO'Neill?"

"What's a brindit?"

"I do not know, O'Neill. The creature died out many years before I was born."

O'Neill gritted his teeth. "Now we know that it's fauna. Two feet, or four?"

"Six, with a long tail."

"Big?"

Teal'c cocked his head. "Actually, I believe that it was no larger than the housecat. The teeth, however, were sharp and poison-filled."

"And we're looking for a huge boulder type thing. I think we can ignore the poison part. As well as the size." O'Neill sighed. "Damn Goa'uld can't make anything easy, can he? Major Nelson," he called. "Have your men look for a large boulder. Any large boulder," he clarified, glaring at Carter as a substitute for the missing archeologist. "We'll decide later if it looks like a brindit-thing." He pulled out his radio, the only communication device that worked reliably in these mountains and that only because his cabin where the others were staying was only a few miles away . "O'Neill here. Daniel?"

"Sergeant Reynolds, sir. Dr. Jackson is asleep. Do you want me to wake him? We persuaded him to take a couple of pain-killers just an hour ago."

O'Neill grimaced. Decisions, decisions. Doc Frasier would have insisted on sleep, and Daniel—notorious for not wanting narcotics of any kind, said they clouded his mind—must have been a hurting puppy to agree to Reynolds' suggestion. On the other hand, Frasier wasn't here. And involving the linguist would go a long way toward forgiveness from Daniel for not allowing the man to come with. "Wake him."

Silence.

O'Neill tabbed the radio again. "Sergeant? You there?"

Nelson exchanged a worried look with Col. O'Neill and tapped at his own radio. "Reynolds? Come in, Reynolds."

More silence. It was deafening. The entire squad held their collective breath.

"Sergeant Reynolds? Daniel? Anybody there?" Colonel O'Neill came to the grim conclusion that they weren't. He glanced at his watch. "Over an hour away. It'll be a cold site by the time we get back there. Nelson, take four men and head back. Check in when you get there, let me know the story. The rest of you, you're with me." There was no need to say it, but he said it anyway. "That Goa'uld will be going for that ship somewhere in these hills. We need to get there first. With luck, Major Nelson will find everyone alive and well and in need of a fresh set of batteries for their radio. Without luck, we need to secure that ship before the Goa'uld does and there's nothing that the rest of us can do back at the cabin. Questions?"

There were none.