The warm evening summer air felt good. Carter signed herself out of Cheyenne Mountain Base, smiling absently at the guard on duty, and stretched. Hot sunlight beat down on her face—it was a fine thing to leave the job behind while the sun was still high up in the sky. That was the best part about summer: the long hours of daylight. Carter mentally gave herself permission for a three mile jog once she got home, to take advantage of the weather. She'd still have plenty of time to pack for tomorrow's mission. She'd need more clothing than usual; they were going incognito, with the Air Force insignia left behind. Even Teal'c was being supplied with clothing to camouflage his golden mark of First Prime to Apophis. Tee shirts, shorts, and sun tan lotion; that would be the bulk of her gear. Hopefully whatever motel in Peyote, Arizona they stayed at would also have a pool, if not a hot tub to satisfy the colonel. The summers could be brutal in the desert.

She spotted Daniel's name just three slots above her on the sign out roster, and grinned. Colonel O'Neill had promised Janet Frasier that he'd get the archeologist to go home for a good night's sleep before setting out tomorrow, and apparently the colonel had made good on his promise. True, the day was almost over, but for Daniel that was a major concession. Carter herself didn't mind putting in the hours—what's an all-nighter or two when there's a fascinating doohickey to play with?—but Daniel's motto was why sleep when you can drink caffeine?

She strolled out into the wide lot, scanning the herd of vehicles for her own little sports number. There it was, tucked under a turned off parking lot light. Despite the summer hours, staying late into the darkness was not unusual for any member of the SGC, and Carter tried to minimize any risk to herself whenever she could. Not that she felt herself to be in any danger—this was, after all, a military base with guards posted everywhere—but unnecessary risks were foolish. It was a good habit to get into.

Her gaze lit on a small group of men. Carter recognized Daniel's car before she recognized Daniel: the archeologist was pinned up against his own vehicle by two other brawny men in fatigues. A second look identified the men as the two sergeants from SG-12. It was the same pair that had mouthed off this morning in the gym, trying to goad a superior officer into unacceptable behavior.

The situation didn't look good. The three were in earnest discussion, but the set of two pairs of shoulders seemed a mite too aggressive for Carter's taste. If she didn't know better, she would have said that the sergeants were looming over her team mate. Okay, Carter did know better: those two were downright threatening. Option one: call Colonel O'Neill for back up. Carter dismissed that as too slow, and, if she called the colonel they'd have to take official notice of Banner and Crofts' actions. SG-12 had been through enough, and SG-12's own colonel was still hanging to life by a thread and a prayer and the skill of Janet Frasier and her people. Lassiter's team, and all of the SGC, didn't need that. Option two—look for someone else leaving the base at the same time or grabbing one of the desk sergeants—was also too slow. In five minutes Cheyenne Mountain would empty out as it hit five o'clock, but anything could happen in those five minutes.

Option number three sounded better. Carter tried to make her gait seem like a leisurely saunter but even with long legs she wanted to get there before anything irreparable happened.

The two sergeants were crowding Daniel against the side of his car, pinning him with no place to go. Daniel wasn't a small man, but each of his adversaries came in at well over six feet and a lot more muscle bulk.

"It's all because of you that our colonel is lying there," she heard Banner snarl into Daniel's face. "Damn geek civilian. Why don't you sit behind a desk, where you belong?"

"Better yet, go back to some school and teach whiny brats. That's all you're good for," Croft put in.

"You don't want to do this," Daniel said evenly. "This is the middle of a parking lot. There are security people all around. Back off."

"Afraid, little geek?" Banner jeered. "You're brave when you've got a big, strong Jaffa to look after you. Put you in a real situation, and you screw up. Go home, screw-up. Go home, and don't come back."

Carter arrived. "What's going on here?"

Banner didn't even look around, didn't bother to see who it was. A female voice had to be a civilian secretary. "Go home, lady. This doesn't concern you."

Carter pulled herself up straight. Her voice took on a knife-edged snap. "Come to attention when you address me, soldier!"

That penetrated. Banner and Croft whipped around, fear and shock in every line of suddenly stiffened bodies. "Uh…"

"That's Major Carter to you, soldier." She took in the sight of her teammate. Good; no damage. There was still time to get everyone out of this mess without any records, assuming everyone cooperated and stuck to their assigned roles. "Dr. Jackson?"

Daniel too wanted this to be over, and, typical of the man, was ready to forgive. After all, the sergeants' colonel was still struggling for life. And he really didn't want the SGC to turn into two factions: military and non-military with himself in the gross minority. General Hammond had enough trouble running the place without adding that to the list. "Just a slight misunderstanding, Sam." And very willing to let it stay unofficial.

"Really." That was for Banner and Croft's benefit. Let their victim plead for them, see how humiliating she could make it. This lesson would have to go a long way. And Daniel was sticking to his assigned lines just beautifully. Squirm, gentlemen. That's your part of this mess.

Neither sergeant was foolish. Both knew a way out when they saw it, even if it was at the hands of their victim. "Yes, ma'am," Banner hastened to say. "A misunderstanding. It won't happen again, ma'am. Major," he hastily tacked on, all but cringing.

If it weren't so serious, Sam would have laughed in his face, and wouldn't that have destroyed the lesson she was trying to deliver? "Dismissed," she said with a straight face, rapping it out with a curtness that O'Neill would have applauded. The pair hustled away, Carter knowing from just the way they walked that the matter hadn't been settled. She'd been on the receiving end too many times herself not to recognize the pseudo-passivity that oozed from every step they took, every glance they threw back over their shoulders to see if she was chasing them. Getting Daniel out of town for a few days would be a good thing. By then Frasier would have their colonel off the critical list, the sergeants would settle down, and things could get back to normal.

But, on to the matter at hand. She turned to her team mate. "Daniel? You okay?"

"Fine." The beads of sweat could be attributed to the hot sun beating down on them. Daniel stared off after the retreating pair. "I thought General Hammond came to a conclusion about the PJX-343 mission. Didn't Banner and Croft hear about it?"

"Oh, they heard." Carter too spared them a glance. The sergeants got into a single car, driving off in a roar of dust, barely pausing for the gate bar to lift to allow them to leave. "They just didn't want to accept the decision."

Daniel grimaced. "Not that I blame them. They report directly to Colonel Lassiter; they've followed the man to the proverbial Gates of Hell and back. How often do we refuse to believe what we hear about Jack until we see it for ourselves? I told Lassiter not to touch any of the women on PJX-343, and he did. End of story." He shook it off. "Let it go, Sam. We'll head off for the Arizona desert tomorrow morning, explore some ruins, find some Goa'uld technology, and by the time we get back Banner and Croft will have gotten over their snit. With luck, Colonel Lassiter will have recovered enough to be able to sit up and tell them what fools they were."

"You may be right." But Carter wasn't displeased with the thought of getting Daniel Jackson away from Cheyenne Mountain Base for a week or so. Should she warn Colonel O'Neill? No, she decided. Better not put the colonel into a situation where as second in command of Cheyenne Mountain Base he would have to take official notice. This would be the better option.

O'Neill caught the box that Teal'c tossed effortlessly to him, stowing it into the back of the SUV that Daniel had requisitioned for them. This mission had required a different sort of planning, and it felt odd not to have to think about survival gear. A pocket-knife instead of a seven inch blade, although the P-90 was standard issue; there was no mission that O'Neill would go on without it or something equivalent, and O'Neill was determined to be prepared. After all, even though Teknet was presumed to be hiding somewhere snaky, he could still show up for nuisance value. But there was no equipment for Carter to tinker with, no soil specimens that needed collecting, and any rocks with Earthly scribbling on it would be turned over to whatever archeology department Daniel had connections to for more mundane research. They didn't even need cooking gear; Daniel had pointed out the target zone which was near enough to the small town that could put them up for a week or two with no problem. Small towns had diners, and O'Neill had made do with worse. Any additional equipment they needed could be obtained by walking into the local hardware store. The only real tool that should be packed would be a credit card. This mission would be a cakewalk.

Then O'Neill cringed. Thinking like that led to carelessness, and carelessness led to problems. The early morning sun beat down on his shoulders, baking the tarmac around him, promising more heat to come unless they could escape in the SUV with its standard equipment air-conditioning very soon.

All right, problem number one: "Where's Daniel?" O'Neill asked, trying not to let his irritation leak out. The civilian member of his team was, as usual, late. It didn't matter whether it was the Gate Room or the loading dock, the man was always late.

Carter looked at her watch. "He said he was planning to get back to the base early this morning, pack up a few resources."

"Books, he means," O'Neill said sourly. "All he needs is the Teknet document and a couple of maps. He doesn't need heavy books to tote around." He picked up the phone on the wall, punching in a well-known set of digits. "Daniel—?" His voice trailed off as he realized that the voice on the other end was an office answering machine. "Not there. Think he overslept? He looked pretty wiped yesterday."

"I'll try him at home." Carter pulled out her cell phone, punching in the speed dial. "No answer, sir. Maybe he's on the road."

But there was no answer to the archeologist's cell phone, or any other way they could think of to get hold of him.

"This is most unlike DanielJackson," Teal'c noted. "It is now close to one hour of postponement. Although he may be moments late for an appointment, this sort of delay bodes ill."

O'Neill looked at his watch. "Yeah. Ill. Maybe I'll call the local police, see if there've been any accidents on the road to Cheyenne."

Carter too looked uncomfortable. "Sir, I think I should make you aware of something. I didn't think much of it at the time, but now…"

"Carter?"

Carter swallowed. "Yesterday, in the parking lot, I broke up what looked to be a confrontation between Daniel and the two sergeants of SG-12. I didn't think anything more would happen—they were just blowing off a little steam—but now I'm not so sure. Sergeants Banner and Croft were pretty angry."

O'Neill became grim. "Lassiter took a turn for the worse late yesterday, just before people were heading out for home. Banner and Croft would have been on top of the news. I ran into Major Vincent yesterday, and he was doing pretty much the same thing: angry, and wanting to blame Daniel. I got there a couple of moments too late to actually see Vincent in action, and you all know Daniel. Wouldn't tell on Vincent, wouldn't let me rip the guy a new one. Wanted me to wait for Lassiter to be up and around, let Vincent's own colonel handle it. That's assuming that Lassiter is going to pull through."

"That is probably what drove them to seek out DanielJackson, whom they perceive to be the cause of the colonel's injuries," Teal'c offered. "However, it does not prove that they are involved in his tardiness. DanielJackson may have fallen asleep at his desk. He has been known to do so on many occasions."

"Yeah." Even though O'Neill didn't think so. Damn trouble magnet. "All right: plan. Teal'c, go check out Daniel's office. With luck, you're right: he's asleep at his desk and we'll laugh when Daniel falls asleep on the road again to make up for lost time. Carter, you stay here as base of operations and finish loading the SUV. If he shows up, call me on my cell."

"And you, sir?"

"I'm going to check out Daniel's apartment. And the roads in between."

First bad sign: Daniel's door was unlocked. No, cancel that; the door wasn't unlocked, it had been forced open. There was a difference, and O'Neill for damn sure didn't like the implication behind the broken metal. He pushed open the door, careful not to touch the hard surface in case there was a fingerprint from a careless kidnapper that they could hunt for. Though it wouldn't be likely; anyone who knew enough about Dr. Daniel Jackson to want to hijack him would most likely be professional enough not to leave helpful hints behind.

Second bad sign: Daniel had put up a struggle. The coffee table was overturned, and a coffee cup had long since soaked its contents into the long suffering rug. O'Neill touched the damp spot: cold, meaning that the archeologist had been taken several hours previously, probably last night shortly after getting home. That narrowed it down but also suggested that whoever they were, Daniel's assailants had had more time to put some distance between here and their current location. O'Neill wished not for the first time that he'd insisted that the man move to one of the more secure complexes, something with an overage and overweight guard on duty to pretend to protect the apartment dwellers. At least there would have been some security camera footage to use.

He pulled out his cell. "Carter? Call the general. We're missing one slightly eccentric archeologist. No, make that an extremely eccentric archeologist. And get a forensics team over to Daniel's apartment. I'm going to start a search, see what I can pick up at the moment."

"Is he—?"

"No, looks like whoever it was wanted him alive. But he didn't go easily," O'Neill added grimly, noting the three smashed chairs around the dining table. Some of the souvenir artifacts that Daniel had stashed around the shelves didn't look as though they'd be easy to replace, either. Daniel himself wouldn't be easy to replace. "No blood that I can see."

"Banner and Croft?"

"They're our first suspects," O'Neill agreed. "Tell Security to detain them, and Vincent as well. Oh, and Carter?"

"Sir?"

"Make sure that Teal'c is in the room when Security questions them. I'd like to have a member of our team around to hear the answers." Never underestimate the power of a glowering Jaffa on a guilty conscience.

O'Neill started to survey the ruined apartment in detail, taking in the evidence in a careful and systematic circle. There was a lot of wreckage, more than he would expect from professionals. Maybe not professionals? Possibly several assailants looking for an easy mark? And Daniel, head buried in a book or document of some sort, would look easy for a mugging. Note to self: after completing survey, have Carter call the local hospitals and contact the police for news of a local mugging. Maybe they'd be lucky and find Daniel and a headache at the local Emergency Department. He moved on to the kitchenette.

Hm. The coffee-maker had been turned off. There was cold coffee turning to swill inside the pot. Not Daniel; the man constantly had the caffeine fountain going. Kidnapper had turned off the coffee-maker so that it didn't start a fire. That didn't sound like muggers. They usually weren't so considerate. If it were Banner and Croft, maybe they had an over-developed sense of cleaning up after themselves. At the least there might be another crack at a fingerprint.

More puzzles. Anything missing? O'Neill used a pencil to dig through the detritus, trying to think what might not be here. What would Daniel have brought home with him? Texts? Maybe, but he'd be packing them up for today's mission. Dinner? No, there it was on the countertop, leaking through the waxy container with Oriental symbols on top. O'Neill restrained the urge to clean it up. Might contain a clue, or worse, some bacteria. Let the Forensics boys touch that. The mere presence of the uneaten meal tended to discount Banner. O'Neill remembered the sergeant as still having the appetite of an adolescent despite being close to thirty. If it had been the pair of sergeants, Banner would have slurped down the Lo Mein before leaving.

Wait a minute. Daniel would have brought home a copy of the document that he'd discovered, that Goa'uld shopping list, and there was no sign of it anywhere. O'Neill's blood ran cold. Very serious. Not many people knew that the StarGate existed, and those who did who were outside the program would have a very good reason to want to purchase an archeologist on the cheap. Which also meant not Banner, Croft, or Vincent, who were all loyal members of the SGC. Unless someone had gotten to them? Too many unanswered questions.

O'Neill continued to move through the small apartment, noting anything and everything, and the further he got, the more puzzling it became. Only professionals would have taken items—both living and not—that were part of the StarGate program. But professionals wouldn't take the chance on being overheard by smashing up the place. Pro's didn't break furniture, didn't spill coffee, and usually had a long black sedan to carry away their victim.

He waited until the Forensics Team arrived before going outside where the reception was better. Then he made a few phone calls to numbers that were never committed to paper. And called in a few favors.