Disclaimer: Stargate SG-1 and all of its characters belong to several lovely people. I, unfortunately, am not one of them. This story was written for pleasure and I will be receiving no monetary gain from its publication.

Time frame: Mid-season 8

Contains vague references/spoilers for the episodes New Ground, Prodigy, Proving Ground, and Lost City Part 1.

PROLOGUE

07-12-2004, 03:17 MDT
07-12-2004, 09:17 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 28

"Repeat, unscheduled off-world activation!"

Boots thudding against iron, General Jack O'Neill descended into the control room. He sharpened his eyes on the 'Gate. Iris sealed, wormhole still active. "Sergeant?"

"It's '439, sir. IDC pending."

Hours of waiting coalesced into a mere fraction of a second. Signal analyzed and identified.

"Sir, it's SG-3."

"Open it!"

The iris retracted, metal hissing against metal. Time stopped.

Jack waited, arms stiff at his sides. "Come on, kids."

The wormhole rippled. Lieutenant Grogan of SG-3 stumbled through, breathing ragged. Two of his teammates followed, along with all four members of SG-7. None of them gave the control room a glance. Alien rainwater poured off their ponchos and pooled on the floor.

Jack's throat tightened. "Sergeant?"

"One traveler still in transit, sir."

"Just one?"

The Sergeant's voice dropped. "Yes, sir. Just one."

Colonel Reynolds stepped through the Stargate. Unlike his men, he looked straight at the control room. Straight at Jack. "The storm forced us back, sir."

"How bad?"

"DHD's already underwater. The rains must have triggered some flash flooding. If we hadn't been near the 'Gate when it hit... we wouldn't have made it back, sir."

The answer struck like a double-edged sword. Jack ground his jaw.

All of the members of SG-3 and 7 lifted their eyes to the control room. Their countenances screamed loss and defeat.

Behind them, the Stargate shut down.

"We were able to do a full sweep of the area, sir, before the storm came," Reynolds said. "We searched the ruins and every foot of ground within twenty klicks of the 'Gate. There wasn't a sign of SG-14. We couldn't even find where they made camp. It's like they were never even there. I'm sorry, sir."

"Not your fault, Colonel." Jack shook his head. The gesture was firm. Hard. "Blankets and hot coffee in the infirmary. Get yourselves checked out, then report to the briefing room."

"Yes, sir."

Hands tightening into fists, Jack stared at the empty 'Gate. No one gets left behind. No one. Unbidden, the thought assaulted him, each syllable a knife twisting into his flesh.

"General O'Neill?"

"What is it, Sergeant?"

"Sir, don't you think you should eat something? You haven't had anything except coffee since… since this started."

Jack shrugged, the tautness of his muscles making the motion almost painful. No one gets left behind. No one.

"General? I could bring a plate to your office."

"The commissary shut down hours ago, Sergeant."

"Yes, sir, I know, but... I had the cook save you a tray. Just in case."

The concept behind these words registered slowly. Jack blinked, then turned to the Sergeant. "You're a good man, Walter. Maybe later, after the debriefing."

"I'll hold you to that, sir."

With a tired smile, Jack trudged toward the stairs. "I know you will, Sergeant. I know you will."

CHAPTER ONE

THREE MONTHS LATER

10-18-2004, 07:02 MDT
10-18-2004, 13:02 Zulu
SGC, LEVEL 27

Jack stared into his coffee mug. A lone speck of dust was sloshing around in there, just like every morning. "Dang conspiracy."

Turning into his office, Jack fished the enemy out with an index finger and gave it a flick. Droplets of coffee landed in a spray across his desk—or rather across the stacks of paperwork covering his desk. With a frown, he gave one of the piles a shove. Sometimes he really hated being a General.

Now was one of those times.

Were he still a member of SG-1, he could be staring at an alien sunrise right now instead of the gray innards of the SGC; an alien sunrise and the members of his Team—Carter bright 'n fresh as always, Teal'c stoic as ever, and Daniel nearly comatose from a lack of coffee. The mental image hit Jack hard. An empty kind of ache settled in his chest.

His life with SG-1 was over.

The mounds of paperwork snapped back into focus. He gave the closest pile another shove, set down his mug, and kept moving. This was his life now. It lacked the overwhelming coolness of commanding SG-1, but as lives went it had its good points. On that thought, he squared his shoulders and headed into the briefing room.

Forward momentum crashed headlong into utter astonishment and Jack froze. So much for life having its good points. With measured steps, he approached the conference table—all fifteen feet of it. All fifteen, rock covered feet of it.

He was going to kill the archaeology department.

"Love what you've done with the place."

Somewhere in the back of his brain, Jack had registered the sound of approaching footsteps, but the voice was unexpected. He spun toward the door. "Jacob! Walter told me you'd dropped in. Beat me by a whole eight minutes, I hear."

"What can I say? I've got good timing." Moving into the room, Jacob ran an appraising eye over the table. "What's with the rocks?"

"Ah, yes, the rocks. Well, at exactly oh-nine-hundred, I am to be subjected to a talk on the state of the rock as we know it. I presume these are the bare-minimum, extra-cool samples they insisted on bringing for my benefit."

"Looks like the Mountain threw up on your desk."

"Yeah…" Jack grimaced and promptly changed the subject. "So, sorry you missed Carter. She and SG-1 won't be back until around oh-eight-thirty. Daniel made me schedule it special so he could add his two cents to the whole archa-logic, info-dump thing. Care to hang around for a while?"

"Actually, this isn't a social call."

Jack arched an eyebrow. Walter hadn't mentioned anything about their visitor having business. And if there was one thing Walter never forgot to mention, it was business.

"Jack, can we talk? In private?"

Aside from the rock pile, Jack was fairly certain they were already alone, but he didn't argue. With a nod, he indicated the office. His guest led the way, remaining cryptically silent and refusing to take a seat until both doors had been secured.

Jack dropped into his chair. "What's up?"

"De'nama."

"Oh. I'm... sorry to hear that."

"De'nama's a place, Jack. I think you know it as P3X-439."

Jack stiffened. There weren't many planet designations he knew by heart, but '439 was one of the few. "Not gonna happen, Jacob. De'mamma's or whatever you want to call it is off limits. None of my people are setting foot on that rock."

"No one's asking them to, Jack. Just hear me out. After your teams were forced to leave De'nama, the Tok'ra began monitoring the planet for themselves. They hoped after the flooding stopped, a pair of our operatives could make it through and finish what your people started."

"We did finish! I got my head sucked, Anubis dang near blew us up, we came home, end of story." Except it hadn't been the end. Voices of the lost and presumed dead still screamed in his ears, constantly reminding him. It hadn't been the end. He stared at Jacob. "SG-14 never should have been sent back there."

"Maybe not. But like the Joint Chiefs, several members of the High Council were convinced there might still be something of value in the Ancient ruins—something besides what you blew up with that Repository. It's taken almost three months, but we finally got lucky."

"Lucky?" The word came out bitter.

"Yes, Jack. Two of our guys made it through yesterday."

The response was firm, but somehow managed to avoid being argumentative. Obviously, the man was aiming for a quiet, tactful approach. Too bad Jack didn't feel like playing. "There's nothing there, Jake. We looked."

"I know. And you're right. As far as potential weapons and technology goes, our people struck out."

"Did your people also die?"

"No. They didn't. They made it home, Jack. And they didn't come back empty-handed. They found something. It just wasn't what they were looking for." Reaching into the pouch strapped to his hip, Jacob withdrew an oval shaped device. About seven inches tall, creased down the middle with matching scroll work on either half, it looked like it was made out of well-oxidized brass.

"And that would be, what?" The question wasn't born of curiosity. Jack meant it as a challenge.

Expression softening, Jacob almost smiled. "It was worth the risk, Jack. At least, it has the potential to be."

Jack pursed his lips. He wasn't convinced, not even close, but… "Let's see it."

Thumbing twin nodules fashioned into the device's scroll work, Jacob pulled the halves apart. A wavering field of blue appeared between the two pieces. Telescopic rods held the sides together, locking into place with a snap as the screen reached max width.

"It's a computer of sorts," Jacob explained, "very advanced in some ways—touchscreen navigation, holographic imaging—but archaic in others. Low memory, poor clarity, that sort of thing. Our operatives found it at the base of the Stargate's platform. Faint skid marks on the dais correspond with damage to the unit's outer casing, as well as depressions in the surrounding mud. Best guess seems to be it was simply thrown through an open wormhole, probably sometime during the last week. Any sooner than that, the flooding would've just washed it away."

"What's on it?"

Something between a sigh and a grunt rumbled in Jacob's throat. Finger raised, he swiped through a series of icons and selected an option. A picture appeared of four people: three men and a woman. Their garb was identical, drab green material and dirty black boots. They stood in a row, legs apart, carefully schooled defiance etched on their faces.

The embodiment of those lost, supposedly dead voices. The ones that never should have been left behind…

Major Thomas Czachowski. Leader, up and coming. Bit of a hot-head with a temper to match, but a good man. Loyal. Stubborn to a fault. Only son and sole supporter of his mother, Gina—a hole Jack had quietly tried to fill over the past three months. But he wasn't her Thomas and he never could be...

Captain Jennifer Hailey. Samantha Carter in pint-size. Fiery, brilliant, with a fresh promotion to her credit. Three years at the SGC had found the massive chip on her shoulder whittled down to a splinter. Her future had been bright and full of promise—until '439...

Nyan. Teal'c's unlikely friend and protege. Bedrosian refugee cum Lok'nel proficient wrapped in archaeologist's clothing. Young, eager, open-minded. A fighter who always sought the truth—no matter where it led, no matter what the cost. T still mourned his loss, as did they all...

Sergeant Marco Blocker, aka The Gentle Giant. Last spring he'd returned through the Stargate with four kids in tow. A boy hanging on his back, girl toddlers gripping each pant leg, and a baby cradled to his chest. Orphans abandoned on a war-ravaged planet. Marco and Janie—his wife and childhood sweetheart—had adopted all four. P3X-439 was to be his last off-world assignment. The transfer papers arrived two hours after their final check in...

A hammer pounded in Jack's chest. Czachowski, Hailey, Nyan, Marco. No one gets left behind. No one.

"It's SG-14."

Jack almost jumped, the unnecessary words jarring him from his thoughts. His vocal chords constricted, a dozen questions warring to be spoken at once. He swallowed. "Where are they?"

"I'm not sure. Take a look at this." Running his finger over the holographic monitor, Jacob selected another option. Alien text filled the screen. "It's a variation of primitive Goa'uld script. Selmak and I were able to work out a close translation."

"And?"

"There's a set of coordinates for a neutral planet and instructions for establishing contact once we get there. Apparently, whoever took SG-14 has decided they want to make a trade."

Jack's attention flickered from the meaningless lines of text to Jacob. A disquieted expression stared back at him, the eyes giving away everything yet nothing in the same moment. "What do they want?"

"They want you, Jack."

Author's Note: Well folks, it's all over but the posting! After being in the works for almost three years, this story is now fully written. I will be posting a new chapter every few days as life permits. Hope you enjoy!