"We have to jump." I hear through the headset. I see my companions share glances. Jump? What will jumping accomplish?

"Out of the plane?" Daniel Jackson asks, his voice touched with skeptical disbelief. I still don't understand. Even a Jaffa can not hope to survive a fall from many thousands of feet. I wonder if perhaps the oxygen in the airplane had become tainted.

A member of the crew hands me...something. I examine this strange contraption. It is...I have no frame of reference to this. There is a large pack, vaguely similar to the ones we wear on our missions. But this one has just one large pocket which is full of ...something, not several small ones. And it is sealed. It is residing among a tangle of straps. I think if I hold it just right it would nearly resemble the spider that resides in a corner of my quarters. But how this...spider helps me...us, survive jumping out of this fully functional airplane...

"I do not understand O'Neill." The man gives me a reassuring look.

"It's called a parachute." Yes O'Neill, you have said that. But how will this...thing keep me from dying.

"It slows your descent after you jump out of a plane," Major Carter explains as she tames the spider, wrapping and fastening its legs around her body in a dizzying number of places.

She shows none of the trepidation and dread I saw on her face earlier when O'Neill announced we would jump. A trepidation I share. I can detect no anti-gravity beam, no superior technology. How exactly is this limp spider supposed to permit me to jump? Or more accurately, survive the sudden impact with the ground that will surely kill me? Am I supposed to land on my back and bounce on it?

"Don't worry about it. I've done it hundreds of times," O'Neill says. That does not make me feel better. I have had several Prim'ta, would you like to experience that O'Neill?

A few moments later the back of the airplane drops open, filling the belly of the craft with an ear-popping roar. A maelstrom of icy cold wind sweeps through the compartment and the lack of clutter and presence of netting suddenly makes sense.

I watch a candy bar wrapper of Daniel Jackson's come to life from its place on the metal floor where he had dropped it.

The wind I feel becomes a visible force as the crumpled bit of colorful plastic swirls sluggishly at first, then faster and faster as more wind forces its way in. Two airmen walk past me, pushing a large pallet of supplies. Their passing disturbs the wrapper and it whirls to the middle of the floor and follows them, like a curious child will follow its parents, oblivious to any danger.

The men tether themselves and push the pallet out of the plane. The ramp now makes sense. It is a very efficient way to discharge items from the vehicle.

We all step forward, now just feet from...nothing. O'Neill stands at the edge, confidence in his stance. I watch Dr. Markov, then Major Carter leap from the plane.

They fall away, growing smaller and smaller until they are indistinguishable from the frozen, barren landscape below.

"It's easy. Just jump and pull this," O'Neill instructs, gesturing to a metal ring on my harness.

I look again over the lip of the floor and at the ground speeding by, so far below. That speck...that is a truck. It is no larger than my thumb nail. Not even a hundred larvae could help me survive this fall.

Can we not contact the Tok'ra, see if they have a tel'tak we may use and avail ourselves of it's descent pods. Perhaps the Asgard would be willing to help.

I look down again. The candy bar wrapper has become caught in a crevice in the floor. It flutters and flies away. Lost forever.

"This does not seem wise O'Neill." Perhaps the pilot needs aid. Someone should contact General Hammond, inform him of our status. Going into an unknown situation, someone should remain in reserve.

"I said it was easy, not wise," O'Neill yells. His words do not make me feel better. I look down again at the ground. It is covered with ice and snow. It will be very hard when I smash into it.

"This does not seem wise." I can not move. My feet refuse to step forward. Given a choice I would rather return to Chulak and work to uncover every Jaffa loyal to Apophis with my bare hands than jump.

I feel an unexpected pressure on my back as O'Neill pushes me out of the plane.
HATAKA!!!!

~~~~~

I fall through the air to my death. Vaguely I remember the hurried instructions and I stretch out my arms and legs, giving as much resistance to the rushing air as possible. I am grateful for the goggles and helmet as the air chills my exposed flesh. It pushes back my lips and cheeks and I feel the skin flap. I want to scream but I can not. The wind has stolen all the moisture from my mouth.

My face is now numb. I feel a cold settling into my jaw that makes my teeth ache.

Facing downward I study the landscape, fascinated at the scenery before me. What looked like black stained cottonballs is revealed to be snow covered trees. That fine line amongst the trees is a road. I am rushing through the air as if I were flying a death glider without the protection of a canopy.

I...the ring I must pull the ring. Fighting the wind and gravity, I force my right arm across my chest and pull the handle. The roar of the wind is supplanted by a rustling flapping sound as I am jerked upwards with a force equal to the Goa'uld shield I ran into on P4X639.

The spider's straps cut into my flesh, most painfully around my hips.

When I wrapped the straps around my body the way to position them around my legs made little sense. It does now. If they were not there I would surely have slipped out of the harness. And they are wisely arranged in such a way as to prevent...injury to ones self

Now that my descent has been slowed from over a hundred miles an hour to a fraction of that I am struck by the silence. I can no longer hear the plane I left just moments ago. The howl of the wind is a mere whisper caressing my cold face. Even the frigid air feels warmer now that it is not speeding past me. I hear a tiny fluttering sound and I look up.

At first glance I think I am suspended by a cloud. The too tiny body of the spider has opened up to reveal a billowing white rectangular silken web.

There are two yellow cords dangling from the maze of thin ropes that connect the canopy to my harness. These must be the controls for this parachute. I grasp them, feeling a measure of security as I am not longer hanging helpless, at the mercy of the wind. I pull down with my left arm and I swing to the left. Pulling down with my right arm swings me to the right. I draw it down harder and I spin in a dizzying spiral like one of Ry'ac's toys.

I feel a giddy feeling sweep over me as I work the controls back and forth, weaving through the sky. I am flying. I laugh out loud as I realize gravity is not my mistress, not right now. And, unlike my time on board the shuttle, I am not breathing filtered air, surrounded by machines and technology. I am...free.

I look down upon the panorama below me. Details are becoming clearer now. I can see the differing shades of green in the trees, a dull sparkle of weak sunlight glinting off the heavy drifts of snow dotted with an occasional dark specter of a rock or boulder.

I am with in a couple hundred feet of the ground and I take a quick glance to get my bearing on the location of our destination.

Then, impossibly fast, the trees which seemed so tiny and delicate just seconds before are now growing larger at a dizzying rate. It is as if gravity is punishing me for defying her as it reaches out and forcefully pulls me down. I instinctively bend my knees to lessen the impact and literally hit the ground running.

It takes me a few moments to remove the harness and get the parachute under control. I gather up an armful of the material. It seems miraculous to me that this bit of fabric is capable of letting a man fly.

I wrap the parachute into a ball and shove it under my arm. As I begin my hike to the rendezvous point I pause and look up. Spread out above me is the heavens of Earth. Heavens, that with the aid of a deceptively simple Tau'ri invention, I have walked.
I put my thoughts aside and begin my trek through the deep snow to the Russian Facility. I have a mission to complete.

~~~~~

I sit in the commissary of the SGC, my hands wrapped around a coffee cup. I am normally not fond of the bitter Tau'ri beverage but I find the cappuccino they have begun serving vaguely reminiscent of a Jaffa drink.

I take a sip and cradle the cup, taking comfort in the warmth. Siberia was a most desolate and cold place. Far colder than the mountains of Colorado.

O'Neill takes a seat beside me, not asking my permission. He does not need to.
"Fraiser said there were no after-effects of that water...stuff, at least that she could detect," he says in lieu of a meaningless greeting.

"That is correct. It wished me no harm, it merely desired to return to its home."

He grunts. "You....aah...you know Teal'c, about the plane..."

"Had we been on Chulak and you laid your hands on me such, I would have been well within my rights..."

"Not that whole dismembering thing..."

"The penalty for striking a First Prime is removal of the offending appendage and a life spent in bondage."

"You mean..."

"I would have had the option of having your hands cut off and you and your family would become my property." At my pronouncement he pales a bit and I indulge in a moment of enjoyment as his discomfort. The penalty I related is actually an ancient punishment for a person daring to assault a Goa'uld, but O'Neill does not know that.

"Ooh...well look Teal'c..."

"There is a ceremony for forgiveness," I say in a tone that suggests he should partake in this 'ceremony'.

He frowns and shrugs, no doubt envisioning one of the many ceremonies we have witnessed over the years. The kind that usually consists of humorous costumes and odd food. "OK. If it's that important to you...what do I need to do?" His voice is resigned, full of dread.

"I wish to jump from an airplane again."

O'Neill cocks his head and raises his eyebrows. "Ex-cuse me?"

"I wish to jump from an airplane again. You will take me," I state.

O'Neill grins. "That's what I have to do to make it up to you for pushing you from a plane?...I have to arrange for you to do it again?"

"Yes."

"Look, Teal'c...I'm not sure if..."

"It is wise?"

"Actually I was thinking of easy. I mean I can't just pop over to Peterson, commandeer a C-130 just so you can jump. There's flight plans, restricted airspace, permits..." He pauses and I give him a look. "And I have a few favors I can call in. I'll see what I can do," he relents.

I incline my head as he gets to his feet and leaves the commissary.

Alone again, I take another sip of my cooling cappuccino and smile inwardly. I will jump from an airplane again. And this time, O'Neill will be in front of me.

~fin~

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