By Biltong

* as usual - there's no peace for SG-1

*******

"Evening…morning sir. Can’t sleep."

General Hammond gave his 2IC a fatherly look, taking in the hollows under his eyes and general disheveled look.

"So I see," he said.

If he had seen his second wander in looking as untidy as he did during the day, he would have put the man on report, but it was 02H00 in the morning, and SG1 were still recovering from being incarcerated in tiny steel boxes for five days before being rescued by SG3.

He sighed and turned away from the stargate, giving his second his full attention.

"What’s the problem Colonel?" he asked.

O’Neill shrugged.

"I dunno sir. All I know is that I feel…" He shrugged and looked helplessly at Hammond, his face pasty in the light from the computer monitors.

"I can’t sleep."

"P61 J88?" Hammond asked softly. He knew it was. He could see it in his second’s eyes.

To all outward appearances, Jack O’Neill looked fine. A bit bruised and battered, but besides that, he looked fine. He was also a bit thin, but again they all looked malnourished, even Teal’c. That was the end result of being locked in small metal boxes for five days on P61 J88 and left to starve to death.

According to Daniel, it had been five days of constant hell. They had baked during the days and had shivered during the nights, feeling the frost gather on the inside of their metal boxes. Luckily, this frost kept them alive. It melted when the sun came up, allowing them to lick the precious moisture off before it evaporated, thus keeping them hydrated.

O’Neill had given them the idea. In fact, according to his team, it hadn’t been for the Colonel, they all would have died.

Finally, SG1 had been found and extracted from P61 J88 by SG3, the marines having taken two days to eventually comprehend that the solid metal cubes littering a dry cornfield actually contained SG1.

Once they were located, it had taken almost another day for them to be set free.

Janet Fraiser and her medical team had arrived during that time, summoned by Major Coburn when the true awfulness of SG1’s predicament became apparent.

Eventually they had been released, but by that time, Jack O’Neill was deeply unconscious.

It was then that the rest of SG1 realized that, unlike them, the mysterious natives of this planet had savagely beaten the leader of SG1 before he was sealed in his box.

For days, he had yelled at his team, offering encouragement when they flagged, expending his own strength in order to keep their spirits up, especially in the breathless heat of midday, until finally a familiar voice was heard. Only then, once he knew his team was safe, did he finally give in to his body’s demands to shut down.

According to Doctor Fraiser, his mysterious assailants had concentrated on his kidneys, something he was still struggling to overcome.

O’Neill sighed.

"P61 J88, was a nightmare," he said simply, unlike usual, the designation rolling easily off his tongue. "I figured as seeing as I couldn’t sleep, and Doc Fraiser won’t allow me to go home yet, I could keep you company?"

Hammond nodded.

"You have three choices Colonel," he said sympathetically." You can either stay here in the control room and keep Sergeant Davies and myself company, go to your office and write up reports, or go back to Dr Fraiser."

"Can I stay here?" O’Neill asked pitifully. "I could take those pesky reports up to the briefing room and do them there, thus allowing you…"

"To finish up my own reports in the comfort of my own office," Hammond said gratefully.

"Exactfully," O’Neill said, looking hopeful.

Hammond gave his second a long look. "It’s also more spacious up there," he said eventually, twigging onto the real reason as to why O’Neill was restless.

"It was a small box," O’Neill said softly, his eyes dark. "They…" he shook himself, and laughed hollowly. " I guess I just have a bad history with small places."

"So it seems," Hammond grunted. "So it seems."

He rose to his feet. "Okay then, I’m sure that Sergeant Davies can handle his shift quite admirably without me leaning over his shoulder anyway."

He turned to face O’Neill. "You can finish up those reports in the briefing room, son," he said kindly. "I don’t mind."

"Thank you sir," Jack said gratefully.

General Hammond smiled and headed for the door.

"I’ll be in my office should anything happen."

…

The minute General Hammond left, Jack O’Neill sagged against the stair railing leading up to the briefing room and regarded Davies closely. To his credit, the sergeant returned his gaze unwaveringly.

"Anything I should be made aware of?" O’Neill asked after a while.

The small man smiled, and leaned back in his chair, more at ease with Colonel O’Neill than he was with General Hammond, and shook his head.

"Not really sir," he said. "SG6 are due back from a mineral survey of P88 N14 at 02H35, and SG3 are due to go out to M8H F54 at 05H30."

O’Neill nodded vaguely, in Davies’s eyes looking completely wrecked.

"Aha," he said blankly. " Again, Walter, and this time in English please."

Davies smiled easily.

"P88 N14 is one of Major Carter’s ‘random hit’ planets sir. An ice planet that tested positive for Naquadah. M8H F54 is a temperate planet taken from the Abydos cartouche."

"So no real problems expected tonight?"

Davies shook his head, feeling for the man. Beaten up, and left to bake in a small cage? Bummer.

"No sir."

"Good," Jack sighed. "So I should have half an hour of peace before SG6 return?"

Davies nodded. "Almost. Twenty three minutes, sir."

O’Neill gave a thin smile. "You forgot the seconds, Walt."

"Fifteen," Davies said promptly, guessing, but relishing of the reaction he’d get.

"Peachy, Jack muttered, heading for the stairs leading up to the briefing room.

"If you hear me scream, it means I‘ve lost all my reports to cyberwhatzit."

Walter looked at him worriedly. "Don’t you know how to retrieve them, sir?" he asked. "I can help, if you want."

"Just kidding," O’Neill said, pulling himself up the stairs. "I’ll be fine."

Technicians were like scientists. Absolutely NO sense of humor.

--

It was pleasant in the briefing room, Jack reflected twenty minutes later.

The coffee was hot, and more importantly, he was surrounded by space and brilliant light.

That had been his worse fear, those last few days, that he would never hear sounds and see light again. That he would die in the dark, as he had very nearly done in Iraq.

Small spaces didn’t bother him as much as the absence of noise and light that seemed to always go with it did.

In Iraq, he had been behind thick walls in the dungeon of some palace or the other.

On P61 J88 they had been in thick metal boxes, but for him, the same results as before had been achieved. In a small metal box you were just sensory deprived, unable to even hear the wind through the trees.

That he hated above all else, the absence of any hint of other life elsewhere. He guessed any incarcerated prisoner would.

"Offworld activation," Davies suddenly yelled, his metallic voice sounding robotic through the public address system.

"Incoming traveler."

"Punctual incoming traveler," Jack muttered, impressed. "How does he do it?"

He carefully saved what he was doing and headed down into the control room, watching the SF soldiers skid to a halt in front of the stargate.

Davies looked up at him as his monitor flashed.

"SG6 confirmed sir. Open the iris?"

Jack nodded.

"Opening the iris," Davies called.

Sagging onto a convenient table, Jack O’Neill looked at his watch.

02H35. Damn, Major Monroe had SG6 timed things to perfection.

Jack straightened, and wandered across to the control room window, staring down at the stargate, watching as the iris retracted, revealing a light blue pool of…whatever Carter called it.

It still got to him, even after all these years. It looked so harmless. It was hard to believe that it was connected to another stargate on the other side of the galaxy.

He smiled as the bearded form of Peter Monroe stepped through, accompanied by his five-man team.

" Ma, I’m home," he yelled, undoing his thick parka and waving up at the control booth. When no one answered, he pouted, and clumped down the ramp, dragging what was obviously a very heavy backpack behind him.

"Allen, where do you want these Goddarn rocks?" he asked his geologist, making O’Neill grin, despite his tiredness.

Yes, he had trained Monroe well.

"Someplace safe sir," his geologist said.

Monroe sighed. A long-suffering sigh.

" Lieutenant Allen, they are rocks for Chrissakes. They’ll be safe no matter where we throw…er put them."

He pulled out a perfectly rounded stone and brandished it at the hapless man.

"This had better be worth it, or so help me, I’ll use you as target practice."

Jack gave a bark of laughter and headed to the door. This he wanted to see in person.

"Davies, back in a moment," he called, seeing the sergeant nod.

…..

Daniel Jackson strolled down the corridors of level 24, looking vainly around for Jack O’Neill.

He had awoken in a cold sweat an hour ago, certain that he was back on P61 J88, suffering the heat and darkness once more. It had taken over half an hour for him to realize that he was in fact safe at the SGC, and finally vanquish his trembling.

Eventually, he had done so, and had immediately tried to seek out Jack, figuring that the man was more than likely plagued by the same nightmares as he, only worse.

That Jack wasn’t in his office wasn’t that much of a surprise.

The fact that he wasn’t in the canteen was. The infirmary had yielded similar results, sending him back down into the mountain in the hopes that he had just missed him.

Maybe Jack had gone to the toilet or something.

"He is not on this floor, Doctor Jackson," a deep voice said, and he turned gratefully to Teal’c, unsurprised to find the Jaffa still awake.

"Then that leaves one other option," he muttered.

"The gateroom," a tired feminine voice said from behind him. "Let’s go."

Daniel fell into step with Carter, heading for the elevator to take them downstairs, Teal’c trailing obediently behind.

"You too?" he asked.

She smiled, her eyes shadowed.

"I see the rivets every time I close my eyes," she said softly. "They used twenty seven on each side. I counted each and every one, over and over again."

"Join the club," Daniel said ruefully. "No wonder Jack doesn’t speak about his…" he pulled himself up sharply. "And we had only five days of it."

He pressed the button for the 28th floor

Sam smiled sadly at him. "Another defining moment in the road to life, Daniel," she said softly.

He smiled grimly. "What, another one?"

…

"Pete, I see you’re having just as much fun as you usually do."

Monroe looked up from supervising Lieutenant Allen’s pile of rocks and grinned.

"Yes sir," he said. "This time everyone is happy, which is rare for SG6. Not only did we find some Naquadah deposits that look interesting, we also found some perfectly round rocks."

He kicked at the pile with his foot. "Of course, we all know that is impossible."

Jack didn’t.

"Why?" he asked the geologist.

Lieutenant Allen gave him an odd look.

"Mother Nature doesn’t make things perfectly round, no matter where in the galaxy she is, sir."

Jack watched Monroe and the rest of SG6 as they carefully lifted and stacked the rocks into a crate one of the gate guards had procured.

"No, whatever these rocks are," Lieutenant Allen continued, "they have to be of Gou’ald origin."

…

"What has to be of Gou’ald origin?" a familiar voice asked.

"Daniel," Jack said, somehow unsurprised to see him and the rest of his team file into the gateroom.

"These rocks, apparently," he said before Major Monroe could speak.

He turned back to SG6’s C.O.

"Tell you what. We’ll take over the rocks, seeing as they were obviously intended for Doctor Jackson anyway. You go and get yourselves checked out by Doc Fraiser."

Monroe looked pleased.

"You sure sir?"

Jack took one look at Daniel’s shiny face as he knelt next to the box and nodded.

"I’m sure."

…

"So what are they?" Jack asked as soon as SG6 had left.

"Some type of disguised grenades, I think," Daniel said happily, unaware of his team taking rapid steps backwards.

"You sure?" Jack asked, glad that they hadn’t yet moved them from the sparse surroundings of the gateroom. "I mean, they look like rocks."

"I could be wrong," Daniel said slowly. "All I can tell for sure is that they are definitely explosive…I think."

"You think? Wonderful, Danny," Jack said sarcastically, silently using hand signals to clear the gate guards from the room. If something were to explode, he wanted no unnecessary injuries.

Daniel looked up, hurt. "They are definitely explosive," he said." It says so."

He gingerly held one up, holding it out to Jack. "See the writing?" he asked.

"They aren’t Gou’ald, despite what Lieutenant Allen thinks."

He pointed to faint scratch marks. "That tells whomever reads this that the rock they hold in their hands isn’t in reality a rock, but a device made with pride in order to show off the greatness of the gods."

"This is not a writing I am familiar with," Teal’c said slowly.

"That’s because it is cuneiform, Daniel said with a smile. "It’s not Gou’ald at all."

"What do they mean, the greatness of the gods? Gou’ald gods?" Carter asked, intrigued.

Daniel shook his head. "I’m not too sure," he said. "The writing really is tiny, and hard to make out. All I can tell is that it will either control the temperature, or be activated by the temperature, I think."

"What kind of temperature?" O’Neill asked irritably. "The Gateroom temperature?"

When no answer was forthcoming, he rounded on Teal’c.

"Have you seen anything like these before, Teal’c?"

"I have not," Teal’c said, looking intrigued.

"So what are these?" O’Neill asked impatiently. "Do we take them to the armory with big smiles on our faces, or toss back to the planet from whence they came and duck? I need answers people."

"Maybe I could take one to my lab and study it?" Carter asked hopefully.

"And maybe it explodes and brings down half of Cheyenne Mountain enroute?" O’Neill retorted sarcastically.

"Well, we can’t do anything with them stuck here," Daniel said reasonably.

Just then, the control room mike clicked on and the distinct voice of General Hammond was heard.

"What is going on, SG1."

"O’Neill looked up and faced the control room.

"SG6 have bought back what seems to be grenades sir."

Hammond peered at the pile.

"They look like rocks Colonel."

"Mother Nature doesn’t do perfectly round rocks," Jack said, sounding knowledgeable. "Besides, Daniel has deciphered some kind of writing on the side of each one, something about a kind of temperature controlled type of explosion."

"What kind of explosion?" Hammond asked.

O’Neill shrugged. "We don’t seem to know." He straightened the kinks out of his back and stared up at the distant control room. "Hopefully these are some type of grenade that has an affect on the temperature in a room, or wherever it is thrown. The alternative, that they explode when a certain temperature is reached isn’t very much to my liking."

"Nor mine Colonel," Hammond agreed.

"I think I can deactivate this one," Carter said, getting their attention. She held up Daniel’s rock and pointed to a thin crack that seemed to divide the rock into two halves.

"See here, there is an obvious crack."

"Why this one, and not the others," O’Neill asked, his innate sense of caution kicking in.

"I don’t know, sir," she said. "But if I can disarm it, we may have one more weapon to use against the Gou’ald."

O’Neill came to a decision.

"Sir, permission to move these rocks to Carter’s laboratory?"

General Hammond nodded.

"Granted Colonel. Take full security measures."

Jack O’Neill nodded emphatically.

"Yes sir," he called. "I work here too, you know," he said sotto voice.

…

"So, what are we looking at Carter?" O'Neill asked a half hour later.

Sam Carter welcomed his question with a sense of relief.

To his credit, he had been as quiet as a mouse at first, allowing her, Daniel, and to a certain extent, Teal'c, time to remove all the rocks from the crate and go over them with a fine toothcomb.

The results were more frustrating than encouraging, and when their abnormally quiet C.O. finally cracked, she was more than ready to take a break herself.

"We're looking at eight perfectly spherical shaped objects disguised to look like rocks sir", she said, plunking herself down and reaching for the coffee pot. "And one oval one."

His eyes flashed.

"Gee Carter," he drawled. " I could have told you that an hour ago. What else, besides the obvious, can you tell me?"

"Nothing sir," she said, discouraged. "Whatever they are, they are impervious to x-rays or anything else I have at my disposal."

"Janet may be able to help," Daniel said optimistically, snagging Carter's coffee and taking an appreciative gulp.

"And why's that?" O'Neill asked.

"She has more equipment that we have here at our disposal," Daniel said. "Maybe she can make some headway on identifying what is inside these…things."

"I’m sure she can help," Carter said optimistically.

"Sorry. We are in complete isolation," O’Neill said flatly. "Whatever it is, it will have to be figured out by yourselves."

"Well, the one we are studying has a liquid inside it," Daniel continued helpfully when he found himself riveted with dark brown eyes. "That may mean something."

Carter frowned. "I don’t recall it having liquid in it back in the gateroom. You sure?"

Daniel’s face went thoughtful. "I actually can’t remember if the sphere had a liquid in it back in the gateroom. All I can tell you is that it definitely does now."

"I on the other hand, seem to recall that all the rocks were perfectly round when SG6 came back from wherever," O’Neill said thoughtfully. "I don’t remember one being oval at all." He hesitated again. "No, they were all spherical, I’m sure. I distinctly recall Major Monroe brandishing one at Lieutenant Allen." He closed his eyes, thinking hard.

"Yep. He brandished one alright, but he also had thick gloves on."

"And as far as you can recall, all the rock’s were spherical?" Carter asked him, struggling for clarity.

O’Neill nodded. "As far as I can recall, yes."

"Then these rocks are indeed weapons, and are heat sensitive as Doctor Jackson stated, evident from the now oval rock" Teal’c intoned.

"Crap," O’Neill said succulently.

"Maybe you’re wrong," Daniel said desperately. "Maybe the oval one was always open slightly and no one noticed?"

"I doubt that," O’Neill grunted.

"We can’t afford to take that chance," he said, straightening in his chair, and staring at his team.

"Was it always open?" he asked in a deceptively soft voice. "Maybe. Or did it suddenly pop open when you and Carter handled it?"

He was aware of Carter looking at him curiously.

"Furthermore, did it have liquid in it back in the gateroom, or not? Is this a new development?"

Daniel gulped audibly. He hated it when Jack threw off his dumb colonel act and became super intelligent.

"Well, it, ah, yes, it had some liquid in it when I first handled it, I’m sure."

O’Neill raised an eyebrow, his eyes steady. " Okay then. As much as now?"

Daniel shook his head, feeling cold. "No." Shaking the assessing gaze off, he rose to his feet. "Maybe I can help if I can finish translating what is written on the rock itself," he muttered.

Teal’c replaced the phone quietly. " I have taken the liberty of speaking with SG6’s geologist, O’Neill," he said. "Lieutenant Allen insists that all the rocks were indeed perfectly spherical when they found them, not oval as this one is now."

O’Neill’s expression darkened. "Then--"

With an audible click, another perfectly round rock in the crate changed shape.

"Shit," Daniel said into the ensuing silence.

"Teal’c, O’Neill said slowly, "get Lieutenant Allen on the phone again. I want to know what temperature the planet he visited was. Once we know that, we can reduce the temperature in here to that level and --"

"Maybe slow whatever it is down," Carter finished for him, her eyes shining. "Brilliant sir."

" The prospect of imminent death does that to me," he said dryly, remembering Major Monroe and his thick parka. His very thick parka.

They waited patiently as Teal’c murmured on the phone, watching with hypnotized eyes as one by one, all the spheroid rocks rearranged themselves into oval ones, each with an obvious crack round the middle.

"How many rocks are there in the crate?" O’Neill asked Daniel quietly.

Daniel looked up from the one lying on Sam’s desk with a distracted air.

"Um, nine, including this one," he said.

"This is fascinating," he said before O’Neill could continue. "According to this, these are the devil’s breath, a weapon designed to be used against the Gou’ald."

"Wonderful," O’Neill said flatly, nodding to Teal’c as the temperature in the laboratory dipped sharply. "Does it tell you how to deactivate them?"

Daniel shook his head. "No, all I can tell you is what you already know, that they are designed to be heat sensitive. Once a certain level is reached, the sequence is started."

"What sequence?" O’Neill asked.

Daniel’s shrug spoke volumes.

"And if we refreeze them?" O’Neill asked.

"Dunno," Daniel said, shivering. "Is it me, or is it getting cold in here?"

"It is indeed getting cold in here," Teal’c said in his deep voice. "Major Monroe has informed General Hammond, and consequently us, that the temperature on P88 N14 was far below zero."

"Oh," Daniel said, looking sick. "Can’t we just stick them into Sam’s fridge or something?"

His voice trailed off as they all just looked at him. Indeed, he was being especially stupid. Sam’s tiny fridge would take four rocks at most, and there were nine of them. Besides that, the fridge was not a freezer, nor could it ever be made to be one.

"So we freeze?"

Jack nodded and reached for the phone. "We do." His eye fell on a coffin like box pushed to one side of Carter’s lab and he made a quick calculation.

"Well, at least, I do."

…

General George Hammond felt sick.

Why did all the bad things in life always seem to gravitate to SG1?

Okay, if it hadn’t been for them, the base might already have been blown to smithereens. If they hadn’t been in the gateroom, when SG6 returned, and Jackson hadn’t recognized those rocks for what they were -

Still, they deserved some peace after what had happened on them P61 J88. Not this. When would SG1 ever get a break?

"So you believe that we can slow down the process if we refreeze the rocks again?"

The voice on the other side of the line was already chattering in the cold they had subjected the laboratory to. Thank God for the foresight of Sergeant Siler all those years ago, who had deliberately insisted that the air conditioning be built in such a way that a total freeze of all the laboratories in the SGC be possible, just in case.

That man way due for a promotion.

"I believe so sir, and the rest of SG1 do so too."

Hammond’s heart clenched. "The scientists my side have done some quick calculations Colonel. You realize for the rocks to completely freeze again, the temperature in Carter’s laboratory will have to be maintained at minus God knows what for a factor of half an hour?"

The voice that answered him sounded hollow. "I know. Carter has already told me so. Can the temperature be maintained at such a low level?"

Hammond glanced at Siler, who was perusing some finely detailed notes on the other side of the control room.

"Sergeant Siler believes so, although the temperature won’t be too precise due to lack of proper insulation. It may fluctuate by a couple of degrees every now and again."

O’Neill laughed harshly. "Like we would notice." His voice took on a serious air. "When they are nice and cold, get the hell rid of them sir."

Hammond drew in a breath. This was the part he didn’t like.

"Son, the NID insist that when the - weapons reach the right temperature, they are immediately transferred to Nellis for further study."

For a moment there was total silence, then O’Neill sighed deeply.

"Yes sir," he said simply. "That is, after all our prime objective, to find weapons and technology to use against the Gou’ald."

Hammond felt for the man.

"What are you going to do son? None of you can survive such a low temperature for long, and as you know, the door is sealed, meaning we cannot give you warm clothing."

O’Neill’s voice perked up. "I have an idea on that one. Give me five minutes."

The phone went dead.

…

They were all shivering badly now, besides Teal’c, whose symbiote was obviously keeping him nice and warm. For a moment, O’Neill glared at him jealously, before the cost of such health came to him. Given a choice, Teal’c would be shivering along with the rest of them, Gou’ald free.

"What do you have in mind sir?" Carter asked. Her face was taking on a mottled blue white cast in the cold.

"That." He nodded to the coffin like structure against the wall.

"Isn’t that thing in which you investigate your infectious organism thingy’s?"

She nodded. "It’s an isolation booth sir."

He walked up to it, aware of the rest of SG1 following him.

What he saw was a rectangular cabinet, glass on top and steel at its base. Pairs of rubber gloves were attached to each side so that the scientists, obviously Carter and someone, could slip them on to investigate whatever was placed inside in complete safety.

What had his attention, and he was sure the others too, was two recessed panels situated to each side of the glass. Recessed panels that contained strips of light.

"How hot can this thing get?" he asked Carter.

Her face was suffused with hope. "Not very, but hot enough to keep someone alive."

His face was thoughtful, assessing the area inside.

"Or someone’s maybe?" His eyes found hers.

"Like two slender scientists perhaps?"

Daniel turned white as the full enormity of what Jack was suggesting occurred to him.

"Jack no."

O’Neill struggled for calm.

"I am too tall, Teal’c is too bulky, whereas you two, if you squeeze in real cozy like, have a good shot of surviving this."

Teal’c and Sam were already tearing away the insulation around the glass, removing the airtight seals so they didn’t suffocate inside.

"Jack." Daniel’s voice was a whine, tearing Jack inside. He did not deserve to have such a good friend.

"This is non-negotiable Danny," he said quietly, steering the man towards the others.

"And you and Teal’c?" Daniel asked, blinking as the lights came on inside the glass.

Jack’s laugh was hollow. optomistic

"Teal’c can kel’nor’eem, can’t you big guy?"

Teal’c inclined his head silently.

"And you?"

Jack’s eyes were bright. "I wrap myself up in whatever I can find and hope for the best."

Daniel couldn’t stand this plan.

"Jack--"

Jack O’Neill shook his head, a small smile playing on his face.

"Non-negotiable, remember?" he said gently. "Besides, it won’t be much warmer in there."

Daniel nodded, knowing that Jack was wrong. Lying spooned together, combining the heat of their bodies with the heat from the lights would make Sam and he a lot warmer that Jack would be.

They would survive, as would Teal’c. Jack might not.

"Jack," he said helplessly, frantically casting around for any other option.

"Now, get inside," Jack said calmly, reaching for the phone. "So I can tell General Hammond where you are."

…

"What we have to do now, in order to preserve the base, will not be pleasant."

General George Hammond looked at the assembled people, sat around the briefing room table, a mixture of SG6, Major Ferretti’s SG2, Sergeant Siler, Doctor Fraiser, and her chief nurse, Captain Stephen Milner.

"For us to be absolutely certain of moving these weapons without any consequences, we will be freezing Major Carter’s laboratory to a temperature of -35 degrees, the same temperature as found on P88 N14. "

He saw Doctor Fraiser’s face set into a stone mask, although she held her tongue, much to his relief.

She had been apprised of the situation with SG1, but this was the first time she had been told at what temperature he was determining was safe.

"Now, each of you has a task to do, which I know you will execute as rapidly as possible."

He glared at the members of SG6, although they weren’t really at fault.

"SG6. You are entrusted with the rapid removal of the rocks, weapons, whatever. I want them in that special freezer and on their way to Nellis within minutes, got it?"

They nodded silently.

He turned to Sergeant Siler.

"You, Sergeant, are entrusted with the slow and gradual reheating of the laboratory. We know Teal’c will be somewhere inside, who may, or may not, be still alive. Your job will be to concentrate on him. When the laboratory finally reaches room temperature, call in the medics."

Sergeant Siler nodded soberly.

Hammond’s eyes met those of the leader of SG2.

"Your job is twofold. Get the door open, which will be frozen shut, and remove that isolation booth to the infirmary as quick as possible."

Major Coburn nodded, aware that Major Carter and Doctor Jackson would be relying on him and his team.

"Yes sir," he said quietly.

Hammond sighed deeply

"Now, to Colonel O’Neill."

"He may survive", Captain Milner said unexpectedly.

That wasn’t what General Hammond had expected, nor from her stunned face, had Fraiser.

"It’s going to get way below freezing, Steve," she said gently. "He hasn’t a chance at that temperature."

He shook his head stubbornly.

"No sir, maam, you’re wrong." He took a deep breath, running a hand through his short black hair with a distracted air.

"Maam," he said. "You know that I worked mountain rescue before joining the Air Force and training as a nurse, right?"

Fraiser nodded, her eyes thoughtful as her lightening quick brain made all the right connections.

"You have seen this before?"

He nodded, the light of challenge in his eyes.

"I have." He used his finger for emphasis. No one stopped him.

"The normal temperature of an adult human is 98.6 degrees, right?"

Fraiser nodded. "Any lower that that, and we are dealing with hypothermia."

"It’s gonna get a lot colder than that for Jack O’Neill son," Hammond growled. "In fact, it’s already getting cold in there."

Milner nodded. "I know that sir. But if he’s really lucky, and we play our cards just right, Colonel O’Neill can survive this."

"How?" Hammond snapped.

"As the temperature plummets, so Colonel O’Neill’s core temperature will drop," Milner said slowly.

"At 95 degrees, he will have mild hypothermia, as in violent tremors."

"I know that," Hammond said testily, impatient with the studious young man.

"Quite," Milner said, refusing to be rushed.

"Colonel O’Neill’s cerebral metabolic rate will slow for every degree drop in body temperature, anything from 3 to 5 percent. He will be disorientated when his core temperature reaches 93 degrees, and in a stupor at 90."

"He will be extremely hypothermic," Fraiser muttered quietly.

Milner nodded in agreement.

"At 88 degrees, the blood starts to thicken."

"And at 86 degrees, the heart becomes arrhythmic, and we lose him," Fraiser said flatly.

Milner shot to his feet, his body suddenly animated.

"But don’t you see, it takes the average human body an hour for its core temperature to get that low. An hour."

George Hammond whooped in relief, startling everyone besides Captain Milner, who sat smiling at him like a Cheshire cat.

"And the scientists estimate that we only need half an hour for those rocks to be frozen solid."

"We may still have an acute hypothermia case on our hands," Fraiser warned, sobering them all. "Remember, please, that Colonel O’Neill is not dressed for freezing temperatures. This will significantly shorten his survival time, unless he finds something warm to wrap himself in."

"He informed me that he had found four white lab coats and a rain slicker someone had left," Hammond said. The last I heard, he was wearing them all."

"The last you heard?" Captain Milner said, looking worried.

Hammond nodded. "He was shivering too badly to speak coherently."

Milner’s face turned from worried to grave.

"We may have less time on our hands than I originally estimated," he said.

…

The room was still and dark, save for a bright spot situated against a far wall.

Inside their makeshift shelter, two human figures lay, spooned tightly together. Their forms were indistinct, the condensation from their juddering breaths long ago turning the inside of the glass white with frost.

Occasionally something tinkled and crashed to the floor, the extreme cold taking its toll on overhead fluorescent lighting and on the delicate experiments lining the shelves.

Two human figures could be seen on the floor, amongst the debris.

One figure was in a neat lotus position, his face serene. The other lay in an untidy heap, his face frozen into a rictus of pain.

Both figures were gray in the dull light, frosted into unmoving statues by the extremely cold temperature.

It wasn’t a nice way to die, to freeze to death, as Jack O’Neill had found out. Contrary to what people thought, contrary to what had almost happened to him in Antarctica all those years ago, not all people simply slept quietly until death finally claimed them.

Sometimes the extreme cold bought on illusions, cruel illusions bought on by a despairing imagination, infected by the extreme cold.

Most times, the illusions were of being warm again, maybe sat in front of a roaring fire. Sometimes the illusions seemed so real that people had been known to strip naked before finally dying, unaware of the final cruel irony.

Luckily, Jack O’Neill had been spared that final indignity, but still, he had not been spared.

For him it had been as if ants had trailed over his body, spreading fire wherever they went, and they had gone everywhere, making him scream in agony.

He had screamed and screamed in the sub zero cold, writhing in agony, making both of his friends, so near and yet so far away, weep unashamedly, until his cries finally turned into tortured whimpers that had finally slurred and mercifully stopped.

Until finally his brain finally froze to near immobility, stilling his convulsing body.

Now, lying alone and defenseless in the extreme cold, the specter of death for Jack O’Neill had never seemed so near.

Luckily for him, a whole lot of people and two medics huddled in the misty hallway on the other side of the laboratory doors had other ideas.

…

Captain Milner’s face was stern as he faced SG6.

"Get in and out as quick as possible."

They nodded, even the grizzled Major Monroe, who had a burning question.

"What are you gonna do with the Colonel?"

Captain Milner’s eyes met those of Doctor Fraiser.

"We are going to thaw him out."

Monroe screwed up his face. "How?"

Chief Nurse Captain Stephen Milner’s face turned grim.

"Slowly, sir. Very, very slowly."

…

The mission was quick, brutal and a total success.

SG2 rammed open the doors at the first attempt, their combined force snapping them open with a sharp crack, forever warping the brittle metal. They immediately dived for the walls, allowing unrestricted access to SG6.

Pasty faced, more from the cold than from anything else, SG6 swept the rocks into the especially made freezer and bolted for the door.

Once they were out, SG2 zeroed in on the isolation booth, yanking it into the hallway with their thick mittens, where the figures inside could be assessed by an impatient Doctor Warner.

Then it was the turn of the medics, who had by far the most important job.

No one stood in their way, neither in the lab, nor on their way down to the 21st floor.

…

"Go, go, go," Milner gasped, although he knew they were going as fast as they could.

He, more than anyone else, Doc Fraiser included, knew how critical it was that they got Colonel O’Neill to the O.R., and as quickly as possible.

For O’Neill to have even a fighting chance, they would have to follow a rigid set of guidelines, starting with the warm waterbed they had set up ready and waiting for him.

It seemed to take centuries for the elevator to sink two floors, but finally they arrived, and the marble-like figure was placed on the bed.

To Milner’s distress, Colonel O’Neill seemed frozen solid, lying stiffly where they had placed him, limbs rigid, making his heart quail.

This wasn’t going to be easy. But then, it he had wanted easy, he could have become a lawyer.

"He ain’t dead "til he’s thawed and dead," he muttered, taking a deep calming breath, unconsciously muttering a mantra leaned long ago.

"Remove his clothes," he ordered, "and try to straighten him out." As two nurses did his bidding, he wheeled to a third, aware of Doctor Fraiser watching him closely from the observation booth, General Hammond by her side.

"Your job is to keep this waterbed warm," he snapped to her. "That is your only job."

She nodded jerkily, realizing the importance of his words. For Colonel O’Neill to have even a slightest chance, he would have to be slowly reheated. This critical task was now entrusted to her.

To his relief, the other nurses had had some success in straightening out O’Neill’s limbs, to the extent that his naked figure was now lying awkwardly on the waterbed, with more skin in contact with the life giving warmth than before.

Working quickly, he inserted a special low temperature thermometer, nodding as electrodes were attached to O’Neill’s chest and a specially warmed saline drip was infused directly into his blood.

O’Neill’s temperature was low. Very low.

However - he had seen worse, so he told himself.

A long process now lay ahead.

Heat would have to be reintroduced gradually, via the warm waterbed, and via the specially warmed saline. If they were lucky, if some good star really did look down kindly on Jack O’Neill, he would survive.

He would however, need some serious help.

The speaker clicked on, making his heart leap.

"Steve, Major Carter and Doctor Jackson are alive, as is Teal’c."

Nurse Milner nodded his thanks, knowing how distressed his patient would be until he heard the news. Their job now was to make sure he did.

"Frostbite on the fingers of his left hand, his nose, ears, and on the toes of his right foot," a nurse called out. "None of it is severe."

Milner grunted in relief. So far, Colonel O’Neill’s luck held out. Severe frostbite could mean amputation, effectively ending his career.

The speaker clicked on again, making Milner look up hopefully. If this were not the news he was hoping for, then Colonel O’Neill would die.

"Hang in there people, the machine is on its way down to you now."

Milner offered a prayer of thanks, aware of the other nurses looking at him curiously. As yet, they were unaware of the critical importance of the cardiopulmonary bypass machine, but that would change.

"Make it quick, maam," he begged.

…

General George Hammond turned to his chief medical officer and raised an eyebrow.

"What machine?" he enquired.

To her credit, Fraiser was staying out of her chief nurse’s way, knowing that this was the one time when she would hinder rather than help. If Milner needed a doctor, he would ask for one.

"It is a cardiopulmonary bypass machine," she said. "Thankfully, we are in Colorado, where snow is abundant, and so are the idiots who always seem to get lost in it."

"What does it do?" he asked, mystified, watching as two masked technicians rapidly set up a machine next to O’Neill’s still form.

"It heats blood," she said quietly.

---------------------------------------

Slowly does it," Milner ordered, watching in relief as the machine worked exactly as it should. Colonel O’Neill’s life was now no longer their sole responsibility, but also now dependant on this modern machine, which slowly, by degrees, oxygenated and warmed his blood.

Hopefully, O’Neill’s core temperature could be raised at least a degree every couple of minutes, assuming all things went according to plan.

As if reading his mind, the speaker clicked on.

"Okay so far?"

He looked up gratefully at Doctor Fraiser. "I could use your help now maam," he said. "You and the defibrillator, just in case."

Steve Milner prayed that the defibrillator would not be needed.

At this critical phase, O’Neill’s temperature was still too low for his heart to be effectively started. Nevertheless, if push came to shove, they would try.

"Look sir," a nurse called, making him smile. As he watched, Colonel O’Neill’s limbs were slowly beginning to relax, evidence that the cardiopulmonary bypass machine was indeed doing its job.

One hour became two and still Milner and his team of nurses hovered over the inert form on the bed, watching as O’Neill was slowly bought back from the brink of death.

His blood pressure remained low, but the danger of cardiac arrest diminished with each passing minute as his blood slowly warmed and thinned, until Jack O’Neill finally muttered one word, one word that had the nurses laughing and crying and all trying to kiss Nurse Milner at once.

"Crap."

It wasn’t much of a word, and O’Neill was still far from conscious, but it was the first sign that things were going to be okay, and it had George Hammond sagging against one side of the glass observation booth, his face slack with relief.

…

"O’Neill."

"Teal’c?" Well, at least he tried to say the man’s name, but he wasn’t sure if he actually got it out. Everything seemed frozen, from his lips to - hell his entire body.

Crap, his entire body was one stiff icicle.

And he was so cold.

"C-c-col…"

That Teal’c heard, and understood.

"You were frozen, O’Neill, as was I."

Blinking against the strong light, O’Neill could just make out a black figure that had to be the one of Teal’c.

"Wha?"

Teal’c shifted in his seat, making the plastic creak in protest.

"As far as I understand from this male nurse, you too were in a deep state of kel’nor’eem, although in your case, such a deep state would not have prevented you from finally visiting Kheb."

"Uh?"

O’Neill tried hard to move his jaw, finally getting it to work.

"Danny, Carter?"

He allowed his eyes to flutter shut before Teal’c could answer. The Jaffa would know that he was still awake. It was just that the lights above him, although being warm, were way too bright.

"They are well, as am I," Teal’c rumbled softly.

"It is you that is not. Sleep now, and regain your strength."

Thus ordered, Jack O’Neill obeyed.

…

"Building seven at Nellis blew itself up yesterday," General George Hammond said comfortably."Whatever was responsible blew it into rubble, severely damaging building eight as well, and was responsible for a crater over half a mile deep."

"Luckily for them, they were forewarned, probably by scientists rushing out of there, screaming, so there was no loss of life, although some people were severely singed."

"Oh poor pitiful NID people," O’Neill muttered, fiddling with the bandages that covered his one hand.

"Our rocks?" Doctor Jackson enquired.

"I believe so," Hammond said. "Or at least, one of them."

"One of them?"

It had been almost a week since the incident, as it was being called, and Jack O’Neill was slowly recovering from his experience.

Doctor Fraiser had finally listened to the mutinous cries of her staff and released him into the care of SG1, although everyone could see that he was still far from well.

In reality, Hammond should have sent him directly home, where the rest of SG1 could care for him, but the Pentagon wanted a report, and it was his job to get one.

Working quickly, Hammond set up the briefing room, allowing he and SG1 to have their first full briefing since the incident

He was aware of Major Carter staring at him.

"One?" she asked again.

His grin was a grim one.

"So I’m led to believe, yes."

"Then your sacrifice, O’Neill, was not in vain," Teal’c said darkly. "Had all six of the weapons exploded--"

"Colorado Mountain would now be Colorado Canyon," Daniel said, looking sick.

"We have one of those already," O’Neill said vaguely, toying with a pencil with his good hand.

"We don’t need another."

He looked up to find everyone staring at him.

"Canyon. We already have one of those. We don’t need another."

"The Grand Canyon?" Carter asked, vainly following his thread of logic.

He nodded emphatically.

"Uh-huh, in Arizona. You get there by going towards the far left corner of Colorado," he said helpfully. "I always wanted to go there."

He looked wistful.

George Hammond made up his mind.

"So go."

Three heads snapped up. The fourth continued to play with his pencil.

"Sir?"

All of a sudden, he wanted to do this. In fact, he needed to do this, for O’Neill’s sake.

A week ago, he saved the SGC, and almost died in the process. Two weeks before that he and his team had been held prisoner on a hostile planet and he had almost died there too.

Now, battered and bruised, sluggish, and still on medication, Jack O’Neill had expressed a desire to see the Grand Canyon.

So be it.

"Go. I’ll manage without you, I think."

He waited patiently until O’Neill lifted his eyes to his.

"Go," he said gently.

He needed to do this, for O’Neill’s sake, before such earthly wonders were forever out of his reach.

Still holding the gaze of his 2IC, he waited until they flashed in understanding.

"We’ll send you a post card," O’Neill murmured.

Hammond laughed, a deep belly laugh.

"You do that," he said

EINDE

BetaTested by CiGiK - Cape Town - South Africa - 13th April 2003 - the day my home side qualified for the FA Cup
GO SAINTS!!