*Our good Colonel once more hits the ground, this time somewhere hot.

****************************************************

I knew that there was no way of avoiding the inevitable, that eventually Terra Firma would win, but, you know, seeing as we were encased in a heck of a load of steel with a still functioning rotor on top, the impact was still so - oh I guess the word would be - 'violent'.

Far more 'violent' than I had been prepared for, that’s for sure.

…

"Sir?"

I heard my pilot, Lieutenant Brooks shift in his seat, his voice concerned, but all I could do was lay where I had been thrown, feeling the heat of the sun’s rays against my face and cursing my luck.

Damn, what is it about me and deserts?

"Colonel O’Neill?"

I felt a cool hand probe my neck, and heard his gasp of relief as he found out that I was still alive.

Okay then, if I was alive, then it was high time I made a move.

The problem was, as hard as I tried; I could not open my eyes. In fact, I was having a hard time moving at all.

Panic warred with common sense as I felt the wreck shift. At least, I thought we were in a wreck, which was usually what happens to a helicopter when it has its tail rotor sheered off by God knows what.

Screw with centrifugal force and gravity wins, every time.

Give me a fixed winged means of transport any day. At least then, when the fan on fixed to the front stops, they tend to glide.

They definitely don’t act like blocks of concrete.

The wreck shifted again, disturbing broken things that clattered and tinkled.

"I’m coming sir."

"Crap."

"Sir?"

I couldn’t hold back my curse as I smelt something new, aviation fuel.

"Take your time," I drawled.

One spark caused by his hasty movements and -

Dammit, I needed to move, and move now.

Gritting my teeth, I tried, straining against what seemed like an unyielding barrier, finally managing to move one arm slightly. The moment I felt the jagged metal against my wrist I realized what had happened to me.

Somehow, I was pinned into the wreckage.

Lieutenant Brooks confirmed this.

"Hang on sir." His voice was close, and I realized that I must have blacked out for a second or two.

"What--" I coughed harshly, gasping as a wall of pain assaulted me.

Head, chest, legs. Dammit. Why me, dammit? Why always me?

His voice was faint, scared.

"We crashed sir."

"No, really?" I said, waiting for a chuckle that never came.

Damn, the kid was scared witless. Not that surprising seeing as we were more than likely smeared on the ground somewhere near Death Valley in Nevada. Not a wonderful place to be, believe me.

"I’m sure that someone at Nellis is aware that we have gone down, Brooks," I said encouragingly. "Not everyone that works there are dimwits"

Just the NID, I thought privately to myself, jerking back in surprise as Brooks’s hands once more found my throat.

"Your helmet has been partially crushed sir," he said in a rush. "It’s been forced forwards, covering your eyes."

"No shit," I said dryly, hiding my relief. Thank God. I had thought I had been blinded.

"And you are trapped from the chest down sir."

"Ah, that would explain why I can’t scratch my nose."

His lack of response was worrying me.

"Brooks, you okay?

"I was thrown clear sir." His voice was bitter. "Lucky me."

I hate defeatists.

"Indeed, lucky you. At least now you have a shot of getting all this shit off of me."

His voice was incredulous.

"No chance sir. We hit the side of the hill before rolling into this valley. Don’t you remember sir?"

No, not that I would tell him.

"So no chance of freeing me then?" I asked hopefully.

His voice was doom laden. "Not without some serious mechanical help, sir."

The wreck shuddered again, and I heard him gasp softly.

"Sir there is blood coming from your foot area." His voice took on an accusing air. "Why didn’t you tell me that you had been hurt?"

Because up to now I hadn’t realized? That sounded lame, but was the truth.

I settled for a more macho approach. It couldn’t hurt my reputation any.

"What was the point, if you are certain that you can’t get to me?" I grimaced, wishing that I could see his face. "Rather wait for rescue."

"If it comes, he said miserably. "It’s been over an hour now and we can’t last too long in this heat."

This kid needed direction, and fast.

"Remove my helmet," I said firmly.

His hesitation spoke volumes.

"Is that wise sir? You obviously have a head injury."

I was in too much pain for niceties.

"Lieutenant Brooks," I said clearly and concisely. "If I am to die here, I would rather see the sun again before I go, okay?"

His soft gasp reminded me of Daniel, and I felt like a heel. Nevertheless -

"Please Tommy."

My soft voice must have done it, or the fact that I knew his name. Heck, I knew the first names of all the personnel at the SGC. I just didn’t like them knowing that. It kinda dispelled the dumb Colonel act that I had tried so hard to cultivate.

His sigh was gossamer soft.

"Okay sir, but - "

"No buts Airman. Just do it."

His voice was wry.

"Like Nike, sir. When there are no other options left, just do it anyway."

I had no idea what he was talking about, and truth be told, I no longer cared, for in the midst of his statement he yanked my helmet off, sending me spiraling into welcome darkness.

…

"Sir?"

Oh God had the sunshine always been so bright?

"How long have I been out?"

"Minutes only sir."

He looked frightened to death, and belatedly I remembered the smell of aviation fuel.

"You shouldn’t be here Brooks," I said hoarsely. "If the tank goes up--"

He slapped away a fly and regarded me with gray eyes, struggling for calm. Finally finding it.

"It’s at least 100 degrees sir," he said gently, as if to a child, and with a start I realized that I had hardly noticed.

"Any fuel we had left in our tanks would have long since have evaporated."

"Then why do you look so spooked?" I asked, genuinely confused. Brooks was SGC trained, and should have more backbone than he was showing.

He reached behind me and pulled out a canteen of water. "This is all we have left sir."

"What?" I was slow on the uptake, but I swear we had packed more water than that.

"This is the only canteen that survived sir."

"Crap."

He gave me a small smile.

"Precisely sir."

Mega crap. We were stranded in the middle of the desert with only one canteen of water between the two of us. Dear God, if we weren’t found soon we would be severely dehydrated, if not dead.

"Nellis?"

His expression was bitter.

"So far there has been no activity, sir, despite me managing to radio out a mayday."

He shrugged, his young face suffused with anger. "It’s been almost two hours now sir. If they were going to respond, they would have done it by now."

I tried to shift, impossible to do in my makeshift coffin of smashed Plexiglas and twisted metal, and made do with a grimace.

"So we’re on our own?"

He nodded, his face sinking back into that of a worried person.

"Yes sir, and if they don’t come soon --"

"You’ll have that canteen all to yourself, Brooks," I said impatiently. " However, I’m not ready to kick the bucket just yet, thank you."

I glared up at him. "Think like a soldier, airman," I snapped, unworried about the contradiction. "Have you scouted out the surrounding area?"

Brooks nodded, making my heart sink.

"Yessir, he said. " Does the phrase ‘desolate and arid wasteland’ ring a bell?"

I ignored the implied insubordination. At least he was thinking again.

"And your cell phone doesn’t work?"

He looked at me incredulously. "What?"

My head was killing me, and from the bright flashes that danced across my vision at worrying intervals, I knew that I was losing blood. I had no time for idiots.

"This isn’t Iraq man. Does your cell phone work?"

He looked at me blankly for two heartbeats then desperately scrabbled in his pocket, withdrawing the tiniest phone I had ever seen. Not that I cared, so long as it worked.

"Yes." The word was music to my ears.

"Call the SGC," I warned. "I have a suspicion our losing our tail rotor was not an accident."

He froze. "The NID?"

See, the NID were making us all paranoid, even lowly lieutenants.

"I never saw the bird we hit." I gave him a level stare. "It would have to have been a pretty big bird to have bought us down, and its remains should still be splattered all over the tail section. What’s the bet that there aren’t any remains to be seen?"

His expression was wry.

"There isn’t any tail section left for any remains to be seen," he said. "Which in itself isn’t too surprising." He gestured to my predicament. "We did hit pretty hard sir."

"No kidding," I said wryly, wishing with all my soul for even a tiny sip from that canteen. However, I knew better. If Brooks was unable to reach anyone on his cell phone toy thing -

"Hello?" My heart leapt as he shouted into the phone, and I closed my eyes in relief.

Thank God.

…

"Sir?" I was aware of him shaking my shoulder. "Sir?"

"Wha?" The sun was bright and my tongue was stuck to the roof of my mouth.

"Here sir."

I felt the metal of the canteen tap against my teeth and drank greedily of the brackish water he offered.

Eventually some warning bell went off in my mind and I turned my head away.

"Brooks?"

My voice was faint and thready, worrying me.

He leaned over me, his face in shadow.

"Both the SGC and Nellis are responding sir." He hesitated. "Colonel Moore at Nellis insists that he had no idea we were even en-route there."

"Uh-huh," I said dubiously. The request for me and me alone to urgently visit Nellis to discuss some artifact they had found out to be a weapon had come from the office of Colonel Moore. If he had no idea that we were en-route, then he was deaf, dumb, blind, and even more frightening, incredibly stupid.

Or he was NID. That I could believe.

…

"Colonel, please stay with me."

I felt Brooks desperately shaking me and opened my eyes, wondering just when I had shut them again.

"I’m fine, stop it Brooks," I said irritably, jerking my head away from the offered canteen. To deplete our water with no rescue in sight wasn’t a smart thing to do.

"We need --"

I stopped with a gasp as another wave of pain hit me, gritting my teeth and hoping Brooks wouldn’t notice.

I had more chance of it snowing.

"They’re coming sir," he said encouragingly, his face shimmering like a mirage. "Don’t you hear them?"

And I did. Far beyond the hills I heard the thump-thump of what could only be our salvation, coming closer with every heartbeat, the noise echoing deep into our little valley, disturbing the sand.

"You’re a good man Brooks," I said softly, making him lean in close.

His voice was equally as soft.

"So are you sir, so are you."

EINDE

BeTa Tested By CiGiK - Cape Town, South Africa - 8th April 2003