CHAPTER FOUR

After landing at a small private airport and going on their way in a taxi briefly, Sean and Jeff paid off the driver and walked to a nearby bus stop to wait for the next ride.

A city bus took them to the closest stop to their destination, and the two men descended the stairs and walked along the road quietly for a mile or so. When there was no traffic, as if by some unspoken command, both men suddenly veered off into the dense forest on the side of the highway. They walked another half mile or so, then stopped.

The shorter one looked up at the taller. "You ready?"

A deadly serious voice answered. "Been ready. Let's do this."

Their bags were dropped, and Jeff and Sean discarded their khaki slacks and Polo shirts. The luggage was opened, and both men donned camouflage jackets and pants, along with vests for holding packs and supplies. Casual loafers were tossed aside in favor of military boots. Sidearms were holstered. The shorter man assembled a light shotgun, and tied a black bandana around his balding head. The taller one quickly checked over his P-90 and pulled a green baseball cap low on his brow.

Suddenly, two middle aged men who could have been mistaken for mild-mannered professors looked anything but. Their faces clouded over with a seriousness that betrayed their task, and they straightened up unintentionally. Their discarded clothes were shoved back into their bags, and left in the woods.

The men marched off to where they needed to go, keeping up a brisk pace.

XXX

Jack knew they'd be expecting him to do something like this. He knew the IOA would have men on all the maintenance and ventilation access points on the mountain. He knew that he and Burke would have their work cut out for them.

There was only one way they were getting to the Stargate.

Walter.

There was only one guard on the entry point Jack had chosen. He was easily incapacitated, but the fun was only just beginning. He and Burke still had to get down twenty eight levels to the gate room, and Jack had one minor detour to make first.

Thank God for Walter.

After re-allocating the guard's radio, Jack switched to a channel previously sent to the Sergeant from an anonymous spam e-mail account. He could only hope Walter had understood.

Jack thumbed the radio, making five short bursts of static.

Two came back at him. 'Oh, Walter,' thought Jack. 'You're worth your weight in gold.'

After getting through the outer perimeter, it was oddly easy to navigate the SGC, with Walter whispering short commands and helping O'Neill and Burke avoid detection. It was very early morning, and a skeleton crew was on, which also didn't hurt.

Although time was of the essence and Walter voiced a small objection to the General's actions, the sergeant understood when O'Neill suddenly asked where Cameron Mitchell was recovering. Walter allowed Jack his detour, knowing why it was important, and helped guide Jack and Burke to Mitchell's personal quarters, where the Colonel had been moved that morning after a brief infirmary stay. Mitchell was still pretty beat up, but he'd live.

Cameron Mitchell was asleep when O'Neill arrived. The General didn't care. He assessed the young man's injuries, confirming none were life-threatening at this time, then woke the Colonel, none too gently, with a shake of the shoulders.

"Mitchell!"

The younger officer looked up sleepily for a moment before realizing who was standing next to his bed. When he recognized the figure, his eyes grew wide, and panic infused his features. He tried to sit up, but succeeded only in knocking an empty cup off his bedside table.

"Easy, airman."

"General O'Neill. Sir. Um…"

Mitchell was fully awake now, and suddenly he couldn't look at the man in front of him or even speak. He took in the General's appearance, the time on the clock on the wall, and the second figure in the shadows of his quarters in an instant. He knew why General O'Neill was here, and he felt like it was his fault.

"I need to know what you know." Jack wasted no time getting down to business.

Detailing the mission was easier for Mitchell than actually talking to the General about what had happened, so he looked at a spot on the ceiling and told his tale. There wasn't much variation from what Jack already knew from Walter, but a few details did give the older man a better picture of what he would be facing when he gated to P5X-462 to try to save his friends.

When the tale was told and Jack was satisfied that he had as much information as he was likely to get, he turned and began to leave without so much as a good bye to the man in the bed.

Mitchell called after the retreating back.

"Look, sir…I wanted to go after them. I did. I just…"

Jack's teeth ground together and his shoulders tightened. A ball of rage was building inside of him, and he didn't trust himself to turn around. He paused and answered through tight lips.

"You did the right thing, Colonel. If you hadn't gated back, we'd have no intel at all on this and, in all probability, you would've all been dead before anything could have been done about it."

And the funny thing was, the General meant it. He knew that from a tactical standpoint, Mitchell had done everything as he should have. It was what had to be done. Mitchell hadn't known what was going on when he woke up on 462. For all he knew, the rest of SG-1 might have been back on Earth by the time he got here. It really was the smart play. Too bad that knowledge didn't stop Jack from thinking how much he wished that it was this Colonel that was stuck in some filthy prison on some God-forsaken planet in the middle of nowhere rather than his Colonel and best friends. Jack felt a little guilty for his lack of sympathy for Mitchell, who did have a twisted ankle, a nasty shrapnel-type wound to his abdomen, and multiple lacerations as well as a concussion, but he couldn't allow himself the luxury of caring right now. Jack radioed Walter that he'd done what he needed to do, and continued walking without looking back.