A/N: Hi guys. Here's the next chapter, but just a short one this time. Not much action, it rather serves as connection link between chapter 8 and chapter 10. Hope you still like. By the way, thanks a million for all your nice reviews. I honestly didn't expect so much positive reactions.

PS: The chapter's title is 'going native'. Going native is a term used, among others, in anthropology or sociology. It means the method of participant observation. The explorer doesn't just study the situation he's interested in, but he or she takes an active part in it. Like, not just watching a rain dance, but dancing along with the natives. But it's also a term used to describe the danger of identification with the observed situation and therefore losing objectivity.

Chapter 9: Going native

At the end, Colonel Tigh got his will, well kind of. Right after their 'jump', Daniel and Sam were summoned by a group of security guards, removed from the CIC and escorted to the infirmary. Accordingly to the events of the last hours, there was an unholy chaos in the hospital ward. Almost every spot was filled with, often badly, injured crewmembers.

The infirmary was about three times as big as the one in the SGC. Lined up along the walls stood metallic beds with thin foam mattresses, including the obligatory plastic curtains to provide some privacy. At the other end of the room, a part was separated from the rest and also covered with plastic sheeting. The beams of surgical lights gleaming through the sheer material, betraying the fact that someone was forced to perform an emergency operation. A woman in a white coat rushed past them and towards the operating room, carrying several blood bottles in her arms.

Apart from the medical staff inside the operating romm, there were four more crewmembers who apparently had a medical education. They made their rounds through the mass of injured people. Armed with nothing more but a pen and their eyes, they worked on identifying the injured and distinguishing between life threatening and less severe injuries by marking the patients with signs representing the different injury grades. Seriously injured crewmembers were brought into another area, appearing to be temporarily separated with grey folding screens. Probably because the less injured shouldn't notice the possible struggle for life and death that was taking place right next to them. Those who could still work had to stay focused and shouldn't be distracted. And certainly not confronted with the death of their friends and colleagues. Or with the possibility of their own demise.

The two security guards had left immediately after they had delivered their 'prisoners' to the infirmary. So it was up to Sam to help Daniel with finding a place in the hustle and bustle of the wounded. There were so many with worse injuries than Daniel's gunshot wound, but Sam's focus was still on her friend.

She dragged him to a free bed and helped him with his injured leg. Daniels face contorted in pain as he hauled himself onto the cot. At least, the pain was good for something. It helped to dispel the rest of confusion and derangement. His eyes were clear and alert while he looked around curiously.
"We are so good at getting into trouble." His comment was only part sarcastic, there was a good dose of honest frustration in it too.
Sam nodded in agreement and stepped aside when two men in orange jumpsuits passed them, carrying a third one between them. They hoisted him on a cot near and helped him out of the uniform, throwing the fabric carelessly to the floor. Immediately, a woman in a white coat took up a position beside them.

She inspected the burns on his upper body and then searched for someone specific. When she found him, she waved him over animatedly.
"Dr. Cottle! Do you have time to make a diagnosis?"
The man called Cottle had just emerged between the plastic sheets of the separated operating area. He was old. Sam appreciated his age at the end of 60, maybe even a bit older. His hair was completely white and deep wrinkles graced his forehead and mouth. Apparently, he was a surgeon. His clothes were covered in blood.

When he heard the woman call to him, he stripped of the used gloves and let them fall on the floor. He didn't appear to be overly happy as he approached them.
"What is it?" He asked, clearly in a bad mood.
"A superficial burn, but I'm not sure whether…"
He brusquely interrupted her. "The man will survive. Give him a dose morpha and that's it. I've got bigger fishes to fry."
Then, without a further glance or word, he simply walked away, lighting a cigar instead. Sam and Daniel looked at each other confused. The archeologist asked her silently to let this particular grumpy cup pass him, but his friend was adamant. Someone qualified had to take a look at his gunshot wound. With the opportunity to get said help without further ado, Sam left his side and blocked the rude doctor's way.

Dr. Cottle took the cigar out of the corner of his mouth and eyed her grimly.
"Lady, who are you?"
She choose to ignore the surly salutation.
"My friend has a gunshot wound. He needs help."
"Well, he's got to wait in line." He growled back and tried to walk past her. Quick as a flash, her hand darted out and grabbed his white coat. Carter couldn't quite believe it. A doctor who apparently didn't care much about the welfare of his patients. This guy was no comparison to Janet Fraiser's dutiful way. After all, she wasn't demanding some kind of special treatment for Daniel. But from experience she knew, that in especially hectic situation you had to be persisted to get what you wanted.
"It'll take you just a moment to look at him. We won't bother you further."

The doctor rolled his eyes, but still gave in. Mumbling something like "damned hypochondriacs", he pulled Daniel's shredded pant leg aside. He didn't bother to put out his cigar, clenching it between his teeth. Instead, he blew a gust of smoke their way. Unmotivated, he examined the wound.
"Your work?" he asked with a quick glance at Carter as he removed the bandage. His voice was muffled.
"Yes." She replied confidently. She knew it was a good bandage. A little battered certainly, but she was convinced that there was nothing wrong with her technique. After all, she'd treated many wounds over the last years.
The old man just grunted in reply.
"Exit wound?"
Again, she said yes and apparently he trusted her information. Anyhow, he didn't question her assessment.

Daniel groaned when the doctor suddenly put his finger in the wound. Literally.
"Hurts?"
Jackson's eyes widened in disbelief and he wondered, what kind of doctor this guy really was. He must've skipped all classes concerning sympathy and sensitivity.
"Yes!"
"Good. Means the tissue's not necrotic."
Daniel snorted. "And that's supposed to be good?" He asked because he wasn't sure what the gruff doctor was telling him.
But Dr. Cottle had already turned away. He reached into a shelf above his head and slammed additional bandages on Daniel's lap.
To Sam he said "You friend will survive it. He needs a new bandage, though. Call me again if the wound suppurates or something sticks out strangely."
Without waiting for her answer, he walked on, grumbling on his way and leaving behind just the smell of his cigar.

Skeptically, Daniel touched the bandages and looked after the most cranky physician he'd ever met.
"The medical staff is not what it used to be." He commented dryly, fiddling with the plastic wrap of the gauze. Sam took the package from his hands and casually began to apply a new dressing.
"He's definitely an original."

Because there was no one around she could ask, Sam helped herself and grabbed a bottle with a transparent liquid from one of the operating tables. She studied the imprint of the ingredients, but couldn't identify all of them. She took the cap of and sniffed it. Definitely a antibacterial disinfectant and exactly what she was looking for.
"Good stuff?" Daniel wanted to know and Sam noticed delighted, that her unconventional test method amused him. That was a good thing. Whiny Daniel was seldom seen, but when he was, it was almost unbearable.
"Best kind of to taste?"

Daniel blinked with a somewhat tortured looking smile, but still gave her a go. He knew that would hurt. In anticipation of the pain when the disinfectant would touch his open wound, he buried his hands in the thin foam mat. He inhaled sharply when Sam dripped the liquid on his skin.
"I'm sorry." She apologized with a whisper, although she had no reason to feel sorry. He was happy that she was treating his wound.
"Is this okay?" Sam asked as she carefully applied the clean bandage. He nodded again and she wrapped the entire fabric around his leg and fixed the end with a metallic clip. Exhausted, he dropped his head on the thin pillow.

It had been a long day. His eyes were threatening to shut, although it was loud and still hectic in the infirmary. He wanted nothing more but to sleep, his body demanding rest. But he couldn't. His mind wouldn't let him. Under the greatest effort, he tried to comprehend what had happened to them today. What kind of consequences they faced. But the dimensions were difficult to grasp. It wasn't foreseeable what would happen from now on. Who were they fighting, and why? Who were the goody guys and who the bad ones? Was good and bad even a definition that could be maintained in this universe? Had the whole civilization really been wiped out and what did it mean for his and Sam's fate? Questions, his head was full of questions. But no answers in sight. And there was not much they could do themselves. This wasn't their universe, their reality, planet or even military. They were completely helpless and at these people's mercy. There seemed to be nothing else for them to do than waiting until someone came to speak to them.

And then, there was also Jack. Or rather, the Jack O'Neill of this reality. It was important to maintain this distinction. Daniel didn't want to make the mistake of confusing this man with his once best friend. They were not the same, he had to keep that in mind. Certainly, at first glance, there were many similarities. A responsible rank in the military, pilot, sarcastic, moody, dutiful and with a big problem concerning authority, apparently especially with Colonel Tigh. Nevertheless, they couldn't follow their hopes and assume that he would, or could, automatically understand their situation and help them. Although they'd made some experience with meeting their doppelgangers from different universes, there was nothing guaranteeing them that this Jack wasn't cunning and dangerous. Perhaps he was even part of the military forces that had started this war? Under no circumstances, should they let themselves be fooled by the identical looks. They were completely on their own, that's why Sam and he had to remain vigilant and critical.

But as he looked at Sam out of half-closed eyes, he was not sure that they were currently thinking the same thoughts. Something told him that his long-time colleague and friend had already started to lose her objectivity. At the same time, her military shaped instinct was important for them right now.

She leaned her hip on the hospital bed, watching the hustle and bustle in the infirmary. There was something gauging and plotting in her eyes. Small wrinkles formed at the corners of her mouth when she frowned. Yes, he knew that look. Without a doubt, she was planning something. This was her secretive facial expression.
"So, what are we going to do now? Do you have a plan?" Daniel tried to attract her attention. She didn't respond to his question. Instead, she seemed to be interested in the two deckhands that were busy holding down their injured colleague until help came. Was she thinking about helping herself?
"Sam? Sam!" He called to her with vigor and finally received a response. She blinked and looked at him.
"What did you say?"

Daniel stifled the urge to snap at her. He was tired, hungry and in pain and it didn't look like something of that would improve anytime soon. His patience was severely affected. Honestly, he neither had the desire nor he strength to repeat himself.
"I asked if you have a plan?"
She eyed him quizzically, as if she didn't understand his words. He began to worry about her. Was she suffering from a head injury she'd gotten while being locked up in the flight pod? This mental absence was not typical for her.
"What should we do now?" He clarified his question. "Are you all right?"
Sam combed a hand through her short blond hair and nodded casually.
"Yes, everything all right."

He wanted to ask again if she was sure that everything was okay, when there was a loud wailing. The injured man with the burns, which had to be restrained by his colleagues, had started to sob painfully. Just as the nurse wanted to give him a shot, he yelled something about being okay. Assuring it was just a superficial injury and that he had to get back to his team. He insisted on being fit enough to travel with this fellow deckhands to Ragnar Station. He was struggling until the nurse could finally sink the syringe in his vein. Daniel guessed that the pain made him aggressive and he could understand that, as he looked back at Sam and noticed that she was absent again.

"Sam! Could you for a change focus on us?"
He knew he was barking at her, yet couldn't do something against it. But his harsh tone was working.
"Daniel, stop yelling at me."
He counted to ten in his mind and used those seconds to calm down a bit. Quarrelling wouldn't help them.
"I just wanted to know, if you have any idea what we should do now?"

To his astonishment, she said yes.
"Yes, I have." She told him so casually, that he almost missed it. It took him by surprise, that she indeed seemed to have a plan. For a moment, he stared at her open mouthed. His anger at her displayed disinterest vanished as he was once again surprised by her ingenuity.
"Oh, really?" he uttered eventually. "And what do you have in mind?"
She grinned in reply and he didn't know what to think of it.
"Information gathering. Going native, as the anthropologist would say." She explained cryptically.

Before he could ask what she meant by that, he had to watch speechless as she strode confidently to the injured, now immobilized and sedated man, and grabbed his carelessly tossed to the floor uniform. As if it was the most normal thing for her to do, she came back to him and began to slip into the orange jumpsuit. His eyes widened in surprise. He stared alternately at Sam and the other people around, because he feared that someone would notice what she was doing. But everyone was so busy, that they had no time to glance a second time at the two strangers. By the time she pulled up the zipper and was now dressed entirely in an oil-smeared uniform, he'd found his voice again.

Stunned, he gesticulated towards her new clothes.
"What are you doing?"
"I'll take a look around."
"What? Now? Here?" he exclaimed. Surely, she didn't plan to walk around all alone among this total chaos?
"Yes, yes and yes. We've done that many time before. I disguise myself in the typical clothing of the indigenous and mingle." She stated and smiled at him winningly, tried to convince him of her plan.
Daniel shook his head stubbornly. "That's not quite the same thing."
"Why? Because this is a spaceship and not a rural village?"
"No, because you're all alone, without back up."
Now, she avoided his eyes and tugged at the right sleeve of her new uniform. This ugly, orange thing was too big for her.
"I don't intent to wander around aimlessly."

Daniel took a moment to think about her words. He understood that she had an infallible sense of direction. She always found her way around Goa'uld ships. But that was also a result from her experience and Jolinar's memories. Still, he couldn't imagine that she already knew this ship inside out. She hadn't seen more than him. Well, perhaps they could find their way back to the CIC and on their way to the infirmary they'd passed a compartment appearing to be a docking station, but otherwise….oh, wait a minute! He gave in the urge to roll his eyes when he realized what exactly was included in her so called plan.

"I don't think that's a good idea." He pointed out and Sam could hear in his tone that he knew what she wanted to do.
"But we need to find out more about the situation and this people. And, for me, it looks like we can only help ourselves. No matter what we plan to do, we can't do it without more information." She tried to convince him of the merits of her fact-finding mission. But he wasn't easily deterred.
"And you think you can do this by following O'Neill to this Ragnar Station?"
"He is the only person we know and can trust."
"We don't know that!" he argued and appealed to her common sense. "Don't let yourself be blinded by looks. This man is not Jack."
"I know that!" she retorted, also sounding frustrated and turning the tables with her next words. "You got a better idea?"
As much as Daniel struggled, his brain didn't come up with something. "Not really, but…"
"I definitely won't sit around while someone is shooting at us." Sam explained stubbornly.
"Sam, think about it. Whoever this enemy is, they're not really shooting at us. They're fighting with these Colonialists. We don't belong here and we can't know who is aggressor and who is victim. I don't know if it is wise to interfere." Daniel tried to make her keep in mind that this wasn't their war, but she quashed his objection with a defensive gesture.
"But we are here, on this ship with these people. And if we don't want to die, we need to help them."

From this perspective, her chain of reasoning sounded pretty plausible.
"Nobody knows us. For gods sake, they think we're terrorists, Sam! They'll never accept your help." He tried again.
"I know. That's why I'm pretending to be one of them. Look around. The whole ship is one big mess. Fat chance that they don't even notice that I'm not part of their team."
Daniel eyes his friend. He knew her well enough to interpret the defiant look on her face correctly. She would carry out her plan and there was nothing he could say or do to keep her from doing this.
He rubbed his burning eyes, his limp shoulders testifying surrender.
"Be careful, okay? Don't even think about leaving me alone here."
Sam grabbed his hand and squeezed tight.
"It's just a little trip." She calmed him, knowing full and well that it was not just that.

They'd accidently stumbled into a full blown war. This was about life and death, literally. Possible, that she wouldn't come back. Anything could happen. She nodded encouragingly at him, spontaneously kissing his cheek in an attempt to cheer him up. Then, she left the infirmary. Daniel looked after her for a long time, hoping that he would see her again.