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PART FOUR
When he saw the crowd gathered outside the door to his building, Daniel
pulled up short, cursing. As he was pushing a bitching, moaning, persistently
touchy, happily feely Jack physically out of his front door last night, Jack had
warned him this might happen, that his only comment should be no comment. Daniel
knew he was not to say anything controversial or contradictory, he understood
Hammond's expectations.
He had his own way of dealing with things.
"How long have they been camped out?" he asked Fred the doorman, extremely glad
he had taken the precaution of routing all his phone calls through his service.
At least he'd managed to get some sleep before he had to face Jack, the world
and the hideously exposing morning after the double-dog dare kissing of the
night before.
"Since around four-thirty am, Dr. Jackson. I told them no, I wouldn't wake you."
"Thanks, Fred."
"My pleasure. You want me to call the cops on these vultures, you say the word."
"You're a good man, Fred."
Daniel walked boldly out of his own front door and was almost nailed to it by
the sheet of camera flashes going off before his eyes. Dictaphones, microphones
and TV news cameras were shoved in his face, he was surrounded, jostled, his
name called shrilly again and again and again, so many questions coming at him
from everywhere, at once, he heard nothing but noise.
Dealing with a pack mentality like this, he should assert dominance over it, he
decided. Or at least confuse the heck out of it.
"Anyone here from the History Channel?" he asked loudly. "I'm happy to talk with
anyone from there."
Professional courtesy prevailed for a few precious moments as the reporters
instinctively respected the right of a named, invited peer to step up and get in
that first, all-important ice-breaker question.
This bought Daniel about five seconds in which he achieved forward momentum. "In
that case, thanks for stopping by." He gave them a smile and a little wave. The
secret, he thought, was not stopping. He was moving, so he kept going, making
them chase along after him.
"Dr. Jackson! Dr. Jackson! Isn't it true you lost your research grants and were
evicted from your apartment because you claimed the pyramids were built as
landing sites for alien spaceships?"
"No. It most certainly is not true," Daniel denied emphatically to the pack at
large. "All I ever claimed was that evidence from the development of ancient
writing systems showed the pyramids were older than we thought. I was asked who
built them. I had no evidence to indicate who built them and stated clearly that
I did not know. Some wit in the audience called out that it might have been
aliens."
"But you lost your career!" the same, slightly daunted voice doggedly persisted.
"No, I changed my career," Daniel responded politely. "I chose to use my
linguistic skills in a field where the provision of empirical evidence is less
susceptible to subjective opinion and peer politics." This was true, to a point.
The point usually being Jack.
"Dr. Jackson! Dr. Jackson! Are you part of the cover-up of what really happened
on Cheyenne Mountain?"
"There is no cover-up." If Daniel hadn't been interrogated by disembodied voices
before, this experience might have bothered him. The press corps were lambs
compared to the Taldor, for example. They didn't particularly want to get caught
out live in front of their own cameras. "I'm sure I'm not the only one here who
watched the Air Force issue a forthright statement on the cause of the accident.
I don't know any more than I saw on my TV. I'm only a cryptographer."
"Dr. Jackson! How do you get from archaeology to cryptography?"
"In essence, cryptography is the identification of pattern in sequences of
numbers, letters, symbols. I speak twenty-three languages, ancient and modern,
the translation of which depends on identification of pattern in sequences of
numbers, letters, symbols." This should enable even monosyllabic tabloid snoops
to join the relevant dots.
"Twenty-three different languages?" someone asked, clearly startled.
"I read, write and speak twenty-three. Fluently."
"So you're a linguist and an archaeologist?" The questioner was so dubious, he
made this sound like Daniel was an axe murderer.
"I entered college at age sixteen, graduating UCLA with a doctorate in
anthropology, specialising in linguistics. I then studied for my second and
third doctorates – in archaeology and philology - at the Oriental Institute of
the University of Chicago, specialising in ancient languages and cultures."
"Dr. Jackson, with those qualifications, what are you doing working for the
United States Air Force?"
"I have secure funding, a dedicated, professional team, no pressure of peer
politics or the prevalent publish-or-die mentality, I don't have to compete for
tenure, and, if you'll forgive a little materialism, I make three times what I
earned as an academic."
Daniel had this phrase running through his mind, this bridge-burning feeling
he'd never work in this town again. Or rather in his profession. Not publicly,
not ever again.
"Now, if that's all?" he asked as nicely and diplomatically as possible. "You'll
excuse me."
He strode out with as much nothing-to-see-here-nothing-to-hide boldness as he
could muster in the direction of his car, parked far too far away in the
convenient residents' lot around the corner.
Unfortunately, the press pack strode right along with him, worrying at him like
terriers at a rat. The calling of his name so repeatedly, so insistently, felt
as if it were some kind of Pavlovian response to his presence. As long as he was
in sight, the reporters literally couldn't help themselves. They were unable to
accept there was no story here, no angle. Of course they were right, but that
didn't help Daniel.
"Dr. Jackson, isn't it true you were orphaned at a very young age and placed
into foster care in New York City?"
In the middle of unlocking his car door, Daniel faltered at the icy confidence
of this new voice. "Wh-wh-what?" he stammered, stunned by this invasion of
privacy. "What does that have to do with this?"
"Isn't it true you watched your parents die?" The questioner came forward, a
woman, bright, brittle, maybe even beautiful. "That at the age of just eight
years old you were orphaned and then rejected by your grandfather, the notorious
archaeologist Nicholas Ballard, whose famous Crystal Skull is exhibited in the
Smithsonian? Isn't it true Ballard was also disgraced in the archaeology
profession for insisting the Crystal Skull transported him to some otherworldly
place where he met with giant aliens? And isn't it true that as a direct result
of his lifelong obsession with finding those aliens, he was committed to a
mental health institute in Oregon where he resides to this day?"
Every precise, clearly enunciated word relentlessly cut scalpel deep, calculated
to stagger Daniel, to hurt him. To take the initiative from him. He'd had no
idea they'd be so quick, so thorough, or so eager to drag up the old pains of
his life and throw them in his face for the morning news.
"No comment," he said quietly.
"With this record of family obsession, do you still hold to your story that your
colleagues are to blame for putting words about alien landing sites into your
mouth?"
"It's the truth." Refusing to give this muckraker satisfaction of any kind, he
again politely, finally excused himself, ignored the clamouring of his name and
got into his car. His hands shook with the keys, on the wheel, a cold, hard hurt
in his chest. He drove and drove through the empty streets, onto Nevada Avenue,
south. The turn he took for Panera Bread was automatic, his usual morning
routine.
Coffee, large, and some days a pastry. Or two. They knew him here. Usually they
smiled. This morning they whispered, giggled behind the register, stared. Most
days, he would sip and savour his coffee as he drove. This morning he sat behind
the wheel of his jeep in the almost deserted parking lot, holding the coffee
between both of his hands, gulping down the scalding liquid, the ringing of his
cell phone so distant, so divorced from him, it didn't occur to him to answer.
He had nothing to say.
He dropped the coffee, the dregs, on his shoes, jumping violently when his
passenger door was yanked open and a frenzied Jack landed in on him.
"Are you trying to give me a coronary?" Jack raged. "Answer the damned phone!"
He brandished his own under Daniel's nose. Then he took a good look at Daniel.
"Talk," he ordered roughly, melting visibly. "Whatever it is, spit it out!"
"It was talking that got you kicked out of my apartment last night." Desperately
self-conscious, Daniel stared down at his damp shoes.
"I can't catch a break," Jack sniffed. "And it wasn't the talking." He patted
Daniel's thigh lovingly. "It was what came after the talking. Three beers and
you're anyone's."
"I was only thinking." Dealing with the hand on Daniel's thigh would mean
acknowledging its presence. "Just sitting here thinking."
"About last night? We were just getting to the good part when you threw me out
of bed. Or about your news debut this morning? You were doing great, bringing a
proud tear to Hammond's eye, until we got to the part with the insane,
alien-hunting grandpa."
"Are you going out of your way to be offensive about an old man's pain? An old
man I happen to love?" Still did, despite everything. Nick was his only family,
his only living link with his parents. Nothing would ever make him completely
let go.
"An old man you never mentioned to me before."
"Oh. So that's the problem. You're pissed because I'm keeping secrets from you."
"Would I be so small?" Jack snapped. Pouts were something Daniel had only ever
associated with Mick Jagger, but there was one on Jack's face.
Daniel snorted, not quite a laugh but close, feeling much more like he could do
this, actually look Jack in the eyes again. "I don't have the energy to smooth
those ruffled feathers, Jack. Get over it."
"Don't make me beg."
"I'm sorry," Daniel said softly, thawing because he had hurt Jack's feelings and
getting pissy was about the only way Jack could let him in on this. He could
hardly kiss him or – or show anything, not in the parking lot of Panera Bread.
Not that Daniel needed him to. Of course he didn’t. "Maybe you should be
grateful to him," he said quietly. "Nick is the reason I accepted Catherine's
job offer."
"He wanted you to chase aliens too? Carry on the family tradition?"
"No, he thought I was insane for sticking to what I believed to be the truth,
for losing all of the things he had lost and putting myself out on the street to
top it all off. He not only didn't believe me, he told me my theories were even
crazier than his. We had a huge fight. I was so mad and so depressed, I ran
right to Cheyenne Mountain." Daniel had thought about this, about why he had
given in and given up on everything he'd worked for. It wasn't pragmatism that
had made him accept Catherine's offer, not the money and the mere fact of having
the job.
"The evidence I had, my theories? I was right, Jack. You know I was right.
Everything we've learned since I opened the gate proves I was right. I knew it
was the truth. I knew it then. The pyramids were far older than we imagined,
they weren't built by the Ancient Egyptians. If no one believed me, not my
friends, not even Nick, if no one could see the same truth or even be open to
its possibilities, then what was the point of trying to hold on to them?
Catherine was the only one giving me a – a voice." Daniel could feel his face
burning but he struggled on, his voice husky. "She was the only one hearing me.
She saw my lecture, heard what I said, what was said to me, and still offered me
the translation and the chance to prove my theories."
What she had truly offered him was her Stargate. He couldn't begin to repay the
debt of gratitude he owed her for her expression of faith in him and in the
truth.
"I've thought about that visit to Nick, how it took almost the last dime I had
to get to Oregon and how all it got me was that last door slammed in my face.
When I think about decisions that split reality, that have impact, that's the
decision for me. I always come back to it. That's the difference between me and
all the Daniel Jacksons dying under Goa'uld attack, clinging to the lunatic
fringe of the profession in some scummy dig in the hind end of nowhere."
Jack was at a loss for a verbal response to this. Physically, he was doing just
fine. The patting had segued into disturbingly friendly stroking. Daniel wasn't
sure he wanted Jack to stop.
"Nick committed himself to the institute. It was voluntary. It remains
voluntary, his choice to stay or to go. He was – I can't tell you how
disappointed he was he never found the proof he needed. His obsession ruined
him, even his health. He needed help and rather than let his doubts consume him,
he had the courage to seek that help. I was proud of him for that." This was the
truth in all its many shades of grief and complicity. In Daniel's limited
experience, love was never simple. "Now, get out of the car, Jack, and please,
please stop following me around."
"I did not follow you," Jack stated with immense dignity. "I only know your
morning routine as well as I know my own. I know that exactly a half-hour before
you're due at the Mountain, you'll be here. Who do you think steals the pastries
you only thought you were so clever hiding behind all those fragile breakables?"
The ones Daniel left for Jack to sniff out? He liked his friend to have a sense
of accomplishment on even the darkest days.
"Out of the car, Jack. Out!"
Jack took some shoving and a general kick-start before he half-heartedly vacated
the jeep, giving Daniel a look that made him blush. He stuck his head right back
in. "You never said if you believed Nick about the giant aliens."
One of life's little ironies. Nick hadn’t believed Daniel, Daniel hadn't
believed Nick. Maybe they were both right.
"Aliens, Jack? Please." He tried for sarcasm but only sounded sad.
"Later," Jack promised him very gently. "I'll make the time." Then, reluctantly,
he got into his truck, which Daniel had been too absorbed to hear drive up
beside him. The truck – and Jack – hovered protectively. Feeling stubborn,
feeling tired before his day even began, Daniel went in for more coffee. Jack
honked frustration at him, then finally drove off. Daniel decided to get two
pastries. The youngest server – her name was Chancey – plucked up her nerve this
time to speak to him and asked him for his autograph.
Daniel was still mourning his certainty that people were their own worst enemies
when he cleared the final security checkpoint and started the first elevator
ride down. These shared upper levels of the base were always busy, people on and
off of the elevator most every floor. Most days, Daniel would drink his coffee
and zone out, but there was an atmosphere this morning, definably tense and
resentful. He guessed Jack's prediction that NORAD's General Deller was going to
have to offer up his resignation to appease the outraged public mob was coming
true.
He was absolutely amazed to find SG-1's locker room Jack-free. He probably had
General Hammond to thank for this. Or maybe Teal'c. No way would Jack
voluntarily pass on the chance to ambush him half-dressed, not in the gung-ho,
sexually combative mood he was currently enjoying. He was trying to snare Daniel
into a highly specialised game of chicken.
The last one to have sex...
Jack and General Hammond were waiting for him in the briefing room, along with
Major Davis, their Pentagon liaison. They were grouped in the three chairs at
the head of the table. Still feeling stubborn, Daniel put down his coffee and
pastries, taking the seat at the bottom, facing them down. He was doing a lot of
things at their behest he didn't feel happy or comfortable with and was
compromising himself to do them, in the full glare of publicity, to the best of
his meagre ability. He didn't feel like being on-board or on-message for
anything else.
General Hammond pleasantly – and carefully – wished him a good morning. Daniel
helped himself to one of the pecan-loaded pastries and began to eat it before
Jack's very eyes. He needed to assert some independence before Jack swallowed
him whole.
After a swift, sidelong look to Jack and the general, neither of whom seemed
exactly willing to lead the public relations charge, Major Davis decided to earn
his pay. "Dr. Jackson?"
"No comment!" Daniel replied thickly, licking away an errant crumb.
"Very good," Davis acknowledged encouragingly. He too was pleasant.
What a nice time they were all having together this morning.
"This meeting was intended to address the specifics of the Pentagon's
expectations of you with regard to acting as the de facto public face of the SGC,"
Davis explained.
"Deep-space telemetry project," Daniel corrected him. "It doesn't have a name."
"The name we're concerned with is that of Nicholas Ballard."
"Son, why is this the first time we're hearing about your grandfather?" General
Hammond asked him kindly.
"I don't know. You'd better ask Catherine," Daniel advised.
"Catherine Langford?" Davis clarified.
"Catherine hired me to translate the Stargate cartouche, she was the one sitting
in the limousine with all the files on me. She never mentioned Nick. I guess she
didn't think he was relevant."
"You're assuming she knew about your grandfather," Davis pointed out.
"Everyone knew about Nick," Daniel informed them laconically, almost enjoying
this. "Everyone who knew anything about archaeology knew Nick and his Crystal
Skull. And about my parents." Catherine and Ernest were too kind and too
generous to bring up Daniel's past when he was with them. They shared mutual
passions and passionate disagreements over their regular dinners, desserts and
debates. "In fact, the only ones who seem not to know are the Air Force," he
added incorrigibly.
"Uh," Davis muttered protestingly and then stopped, thrown by the self-evident
truth of this.
"Catherine was well-prepared. She had pictures of my first foster parents and
their son. I even remembered the picture. It was kept on top of the television."
"You had a foster-brother?" Jack broke in, frowning darkly. More secrets. More
to make Daniel spill. More retaliation to think up.
"My foster parents had a son," Daniel corrected him precisely. Some of his
foster parents had had children. Others had not. Daniel was an only child who'd
learned to not get attached. To be practical. To live and cope with
disappointment, with separation and uncontrollable change in his circumstances
without ever letting it define who he was. He didn't think himself better than
the people he was placed with, some of them had been kind and all of them had
done their duty by him. He was only apart from them. "Not that it's relevant to
this discussion."
He finished his pastry, drank some coffee and looked up brightly. "If anyone
goes to interview Nick, he'll simply have the sanatorium staff refuse them
entry. Whatever disagreements we may have had – and I'm sure Jack filled you in
on those – he would never, ever say anything to a reporter that would hurt me."
"You're sure of that?" Davis again. Worrywart.
"One hundred percent."
"So it's safe to resume our original plan of debunking those alien landing site
claims," Davis decided. "And, with respect, Dr. Jackson, your estrangement from
your grandfather can be used to strengthen our case. We can certainly play the
angle that because of what happened to him, you were even more careful not to
imply any kind of alien complicity in the building of the pyramids. No offence,"
he added hastily.
"Some taken."
"Is there anyone we can contact who was present at that last lecture you gave,
anyone who would corroborate the alien landing sites claim having come from a
member of the audience and not from you?" Davis persisted. "Do you recall any
names of attendees?"
"Catherine."
"Risky."
"Dr. Steven Rayner, a colleague from the Oriental Institute."
"Yes?"
"No. He hated me even when we were friends."
"Anyone else?"
"Dr. Robert Rothman, my assistant at the Institute. I supervised his doctoral
thesis. He's intimately acquainted with my research into Ancient Egyptian
writing systems and can verify that the term 'alien' never passed my lips."
"Excellent!" Davis looked relieved.
"Problem. He's unreachable. On a very remote, and I do mean remote, dig in the
Yucatan Peninsula."
"Any other colleagues?" Daniel gave him this, Davis was hard to rattle.
"Professor Jordan, my mentor. He's, um, he's disappointed. Very disappointed. He
wouldn't even attend the lecture to see me hang myself before a jury of my
judgemental, jockeying peers. This final research project was just too out there
for him. Ask him about it, and he'll tell you he warned me vehemently against
publication."
"Oh. Is there?" Davis nervously tapped his pen on the table. "Anyone?" he asked,
hoping against hope.
"Dr. Sarah Gardner, also a one-time friend and colleague from the Institute. She
knows my work, she, er, she knows me."
Davis's eyebrows went up but he seemed afraid to ask.
"She dumped me because of my work."
Davis sagged. This was in marked contrast to Jack, who had snapped bolt upright
and looked as if he was bursting. Subtle, he was not. Also, happy, he was not.
The morning after the night before was not a good time to bring up an ex right
out of the blue.
"Can we retrieve Dr. Rothman? Get him back here?" Hammond, a practical man,
enquired. He looked thoughtfully at Daniel, who was now avoiding looking at
Jack. "I know your opinion of our recent Air Force appointments, Dr. Jackson.
Would you recommend Rothman as a recruit to Stargate Command?" he asked
straight-forwardly.
"Absolutely!" Daniel replied without hesitation, getting just a fraction of his
bounce back. Robert! Here? "Thank you!" he beamed at the general. "But I should
be the one to go get him. He won't react well to, um, forgive me, to people like
you."
"People like us?" Jack, his dark eyes like gimlets, was wearing his Mick Jagger
face.
"Air Force, establishment types. You can appreciate that, Jack," Daniel added
wickedly, succumbing to an impulse to heap fuel on Jack's inner fire. "You've
been sticking it to the establishment the whole of your career."
Jack was outraged by this baseless slur. Hammond's lips twitched.
"Would Dr. Rothman perhaps respond more positively to a female officer?" Davis
hinted delicately.
"The only thing he'll respond positively to is an alien artefact," Daniel
declared with fond, complete conviction. "Just give me five minutes to go grab
one from my office."
"We could send Major Ferretti's team," Jack muttered to Hammond. "I don't know
about you, Sir, but my colon is unclenching a smidge at the thought of him being
safely out of the country – and broadcast range - while this three-ring circus
cranks down a notch or two."
It seemed General Hammond's colon concurred.
Daniel was pleased. There was a symmetry here. Kawalsky was the one who held the
umbrella for him when Catherine first took him into her car, her project and her
life. Kawalsky and Ferretti had made his life hell on the first mission to
Abydos and came back to drag his hapless ass home on the second. Lou Ferretti
and Robert Rothman together were a recipe for disaster, but this could only help
Ferretti's men to keep the vital edge they needed to cope with their volatile
leader.
"I think we're done," Davis admitted, looking to the general for confirmation.
Cautiously beginning to hope he might survive his day, Daniel pushed back his
chair, already running a mental eye over tempting artefacts from a dozen or more
worlds.
"Just a minute, Dr. Jackson," Hammond cautioned. He beckoned Daniel closer, Jack
obediently pushing out a chair for him. "Help yourself to more coffee, son," he
invited him warmly. "Try a doughnut. I guarantee you're going to need it."
"It isn't even seven am and already I'm asking myself, how could this day be any
worse?" Daniel commented wryly.
"Did you bring your nice suit? Kinsey will be arriving with Georgia Loughlin,
Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee, to kick our collective asses,"
Jack looked at his watch. "In approximately two hours."
A subdued Teal'c, Sam and Dr. Fraiser came into the briefing room. Teal'c peeled
off to come sit by Daniel while Sam and Janet took their seats next to Davis.
The pall of pseudo-biblical gloom and doom Senator Kinsey cast over the company
was palpable.
"Sit-Rep, people," Hammond instructed.
"The secondary Stargate is now in operation at a temporary facility at Area 51,"
Davis reported. "Colonel Maybourne is being held personally responsible for the
retrieval of all personnel stranded off-world. By order of the President, the
Air Force Chief Of Staff has direct oversight of the Stargate during this
interim period, not the Director of the NID."
Sam sat up straighter to make her report. "Sgt. Siler's repair teams have worked
around the clock to fill and concrete the crater where the Stargate was
destroyed. Although all repairs are proceeding ahead of schedule, we estimate
seventy-two hours before the concrete cures to nearly full compressive strength.
I recommend extending the width of the segment of the platform housing the gate
itself to ensure the four outer pillar supports are embedded in concrete
undamaged by the attack, the four inner pillars set into the new concrete."
"Give the orders," Hammond agreed without fuss.
"Sir," Sam acknowledged smartly.
"I have continued to monitor news bulletins from around this world," Teal'c
informed them. "Though there is much fruitless and ill-informed speculation, a
dual consensus is emerging that the United States Air Force is indeed
responsible for concealing the truth from all those who would hold them
accountable."
"You can't fault their instincts," Daniel commented.
"And what is the evil truth, big guy?" Jack was being especially nice to Teal'c,
presumably to throw into sharp relief his unhappiness with Daniel.
Daniel ate his pastry.
"It is believed by a significant proportion of the press outside of the United
States that the Air Force is conducting unspecified sinister experiments in
preparation for colonisation of a planet within this solar system. That planet
is agreed to be Mars."
Dumbfounded, Daniel choked on his coffee, then fought off Jack and Teal'c as
they helpfully tried to pound him into the table top to clear his airway.
"The accident is a result of the launch of space mirrors." Here Teal'c bowed to
Sam, "Destined to survey the planet Mars for evidence of alien life. Indignation
is being expressed that America's 'Manifest Destiny' is to poison the galaxy as
well as this planet."
"You said dual consensus?" Sam asked weakly.
"Indeed. An equally significant proportion of the press outside of the United
States are convinced the Air Force was launching illicit spy technology which
would have enabled this government to conduct illegal surveillance of the other
nations of the world, thereby gaining an unfair military, technological and
economic advantage over those nations, in breach of innumerable international
laws, alliances and treaties."
"And the press within the United States?" Hammond sincerely looked as if he
didn't want to know.
"They are infinitely more concerned with DanielJackson's marital status."
"God bless America!" Jack crowed ecstatically, throwing up sarcastically
prayerful hands.
Daniel had absolutely no idea what to say to this. He struggled for a response
and couldn't find one. He was sitting between the man who was seducing him and
the man who'd killed his wife.
"What a world," Janet Fraiser mourned.
"What am I supposed to do about this?" Daniel appealed to them all.
"Ride it out," Major Davis advised pragmatically.
"What are they thinking!"
"I know," Sam said unexpectedly, with a crooked smile that started Daniel
thinking about her encounter with Jack, what might have happened between them
and why she'd chosen to use the alien facsimile of him.
Jack had run straight from Sam to Daniel, believing that he wanted him and there
was nothing to hold them back from a sexual relationship. Daniel had been too
angry and too upset by Sam's betrayal, her invasion of their privacy, to
seriously think all of this through. She had gone to Jack to find out what he
felt for Daniel. Yet she couldn't have guessed at feelings Daniel had not
acknowledged and if she had, she would have come to him about it. Which left
only one option he could see. Just what were Sam's feelings for Jack?
"I know too," Janet seconded.
Jack frowned at them both. He probably knew too. And while it wasn't his
intention, Jack knowing left Daniel feeling terribly exposed and awkward in
front of Sam. She knew far more than she was supposed to about his private life
and his feelings, far more than he would ever have chosen to share with her. He
hated her knowing Jack wanted him before he had even come to terms with it
himself. He trusted her motives less than ever and couldn't help but think she'd
taken the coward's way to find the answers to her questions.
Would this awkwardness, this awareness, ever fade? Or was he going to have to do
his best to bury it and go on as best he could working with her until they
reached a space where they could deal with all this?
"Dr. Jackson has a certain quality," Janet said smoothly.
"What quality?" Daniel demanded, showing his discomfort in pugnacious terseness
Janet certainly didn't deserve. He had to make a conscious decision to lighten
the hell up and just get through this, get his job done.
"For want of a better definition?" Janet sounded as composed as when she was
delivering a diagnosis. "Adorability. The effects are – it's like a virus."
"There's no need to get insulting." Daniel was wounded. Janet was supposed to be
his friend.
"You charmed the press," Janet countered ruthlessly. "They lapped up those cute
remarks of yours. My entire female nursing staff is glued to the re-runs."
"Cute?" Not how Daniel would describe logic! "Cute?" He looked to the guys for
help.
Tilting his head to one side, Teal'c surveyed Daniel thoughtfully.
Jack opened his mouth and Daniel cut him off with a raised, dismissive hand.
"Never mind."
He knew what Jack thought. Jack thought he looked nice. Nice was a very short
stroll to cute.
"Cute," Major Davis repeated to himself, neatly making a note in his pad.
"Is this or is this not the single most surreal briefing we've ever had?" Jack
bitched.
"There was that time we tried to explain to General Hammond the precise nature
of the sexually transmitted disease the dancing girl Kynthia gave you on Argos,"
Janet replied with a bland smile.
"For the record." Jack directed this to General Hammond, not deigning to dignify
Janet's provocation with a response. "I for one don't find Daniel adorable. I
find him stubborn, aggravating and at times downright infuriating."
Daniel looked firmly at Teal'c.
"As do I," Teal'c confirmed obediently on cue.
Jack held up a warning finger. "I would also add loquacious."
"Thank you." Vindicated, Daniel settled back and awaited the prompt changing of
this discouraging subject.
"You asked," Janet reminded him smilingly, amused.
"Major, Doctor, as our resident 'experts'," Hammond asked humorously. "What's
your assessment of Dr. Jackson's value to us as a media decoy?"
Daniel felt this displayed a marked lack of sympathy or masculine solidarity and
was in pretty poor taste. He also didn't want to hear Sam's assessment of his
qualities. He didn't want her to have to think about his qualities, especially
not his versus her own. It wasn't a fight he thought either of them could win
because Jack's choice was his own to make.
"I think if he goes on like he did this morning, the History Channel will give
him his own show," Sam stated with unflattering certainty as Janet made 'what
she said' noises.
"It's the archaeology thing," Jack stated unexpectedly. "Wom–" Jack caught
Janet's eyes. "People think it's romantic."
"Romantic?" General Hammond blinked.
"Buried treasure, bullwhips, curses, temples, mummies, pyramids, pith helmets,"
Jack reeled off confidently. "Indiana Jones."
"Do you own a pith helmet, DanielJackson?" Teal'c wanted to know.
"No. And I don't have a bullwhip either."
"What a tangled web we weave," Jack declaimed, milking his moment. "We start out
tossing around an innocent little snowball and wind up buried in a full-scale
avalanche."
The clock on the wall and the watch on Daniel's wrist insisted it was only 0730.
He wanted to go home, crawl into bed and not come out until his life was over.
It hadn't occurred to Jack yet that Daniel being a spoilt media darling was
going to severely curtail the planned staking of his sexual claim for the
foreseeable future. There was no way he should be stalking Daniel romantically
around Colorado Springs. He'd be falling over reporters left, right and centre.
Orphaned, widowed, outcast and gay? Forget the History Channel people. Daniel
would be talking movie of the week rights with the Hallmark Channel.
Senator Georgia Loughlin, Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee,
was a heavy, striking woman of commanding presence and considerable force of
character, dwarfed by the massive General Mayeux, the Air Force Vice Chief of
Staff, who was escorting her into the briefing room. It made Jack feel warm all
over to see that fink Kinsey scuttling along forgotten in their wake.
"George," Mayeux greeted Hammond warmly, extending a glad-handing politician's
shake. "Good to see you."
Politics weren't Jack's game, but even he could see the Air Staff were sending a
clear message of support and solidarity through Mayeux. He was not inclined to
be the one to screw this up, confining himself to saluting smartly, shaking
hands firmly and smiling nicely when he was introduced to their august visitors.
Everyone made nice, at least on the surface, except for Kinsey, who merely went
through the motions, straining at the niceties like a pit bull at a leash.
Putting on the full floor-show for Senator Loughlin, General Mayeux made the
predictable fuss of their female Chief Medical Officer Janet Fraiser and of
Major Sam Carter's impeccable scientific and combat credentials.
Loughlin was much more interested in making a fuss of Teal'c. Seeing laugh-lines
up close and the other marks of a lifetime of good humour on her face, Jack went
with his gut and cut her some slack. Teal'c was her first alien and the big guy
could look out for himself. No chance of him saying anything Loughlin might use
against the SGC later and plenty of him opening Loughlin's eyes to the very real
dangers coming at them from the big bad world out there and the role the
Stargate had to play in keeping them all safe.
Conscience clear on all counts, Jack blithely suggested after the conclusion of
the hearing, Teal'c might show her around the SGC.
Teal'c, whose gut was as finely tuned as Jack's, bowed to Loughlin with sincere
respect. "I would be honoured."
Then it was the turn of the SGC's pouting poster boy, delicious in a dark new
suit and grey shirt that brought out the intense turquoise blue of his eyes. He
looked as if he wanted to bite someone.
"Dr. Jackson, I presume?" Loughlin smiled broadly.
Amazingly, after a good, hard look at her, Daniel unbent, smiled back and even
said a breathy hello. It was that thing of his, the quality Carter and Fraiser
had been waxing lyrical about, that thing only women and Jack could see.
Loughlin could see it just fine. She liked what she saw. Daniel's charm was
never conscious.
"An alien, a civilian archaeologist, an astrophysicist and a career officer all
serving together in this command?" Loughlin seemed fascinated. "I have questions
for each of you." Her smile widened to embrace all of them. It reached her eyes
and Jack's sensitive colon unclenched just that bit more.
Neatly double-teaming Kinsey, generals Mayeux and Hammond took the seats at the
head and foot of the table. Carter sat on Hammond's right, Jack on his left,
with Daniel next to him and Teal'c beyond Daniel. Loughlin was least interested
in Carter, Fraiser and Davis, so she took a seat between the two women where she
could watch the men, including Hammond. Cutting off Kinsey, Davis quickly took
the other seat next to General Mayeux. It was all smoothly executed, all
designed to isolate and contain Kinsey, keep the initiative from him
specifically.
Jack, with lives depending on his skill, was used to summing up people quickly.
He had a strong sense Loughlin was every bit as good as him. He could easily
follow her assessments of his people. Carter was thoroughly professional,
followed the rules and was something of a pleaser, while Davis was a Pentagon
mouth-piece, as much of a politician as he was an administrator. Fraiser could
be there simply as their token woman in a position of authority, the self-same
token that would be trotted out by anxious senior officers everywhere Loughlin
went. The Senator, he thought, wasn't looking to hear from anyone who obediently
toed the official Air Force line. He, Teal'c and Daniel were more her type.
What she made of Kinsey was anyone's guess. The man had managed to snow enough
people to become Chairman of the Senate Appropriations Committee. Kinsey meant
nothing but trouble for them, but what Loughlin intended, Jack had yet to
decide. She might be that rare breed, an honest politician. She was certainly
willing to listen, calmly suppressing Kinsey's opening volley of acidity to hear
the SGC's side of the story first.
Jack let Hammond's masterly summation of their disaster to date wash over him as
he took an indulgent time-out to thoroughly enjoy Kinsey's predicament, trapped
in the chair next to a brooding, exceedingly pissed Jaffa. Teal'c's ability to
loom menacingly from a seated position was hampering the fink's bombast
severely.
Hammond's briefing took time but he covered a lot of ground very
straight-forwardly, for which Senator Loughlin thanked him. Then the questions
started.
"What," Senator Loughlin asked, "if anything, would you have done differently?"
"We adhered fully to all established protocols and followed procedure for
dealing with a medical emergency," Hammond replied.
"So, your procedures are at fault?"
"With respect, Ma'am," Fraiser spoke up. "The procedures for dealing with
medical emergency of any scale are constantly evolving. My team conducts a full
review and revision each time emergency protocol is invoked. Every time we learn
something new about potential hazards, we refine our procedures for dealing with
them."
"And what conclusions has your review drawn over the way you dealt with the fake
SG-6 medical emergency which triggered the alien invasion of this base?" If
Loughlin was looking to catch Fraiser unprepared with this, she was
disappointed.
"That we need to perform an autopsy and a range of diagnostic tests with
existing medical equipment on the body of the sole alien to survive the
self-destruct intact," Fraiser responded authoritatively. "The alien is in the
custody of the NID and all attempts to have it released to us have met with
evasion and refusal. Apart from what we'd learn about the alien's physiology and
biochemistry, we could determine what, if any, medical scans and tests could be
used to counteract their facsimile technology."
"Facsimile technology?"
"Yes, Ma'am," Fraiser said crisply. "This was far more than merely cloaking the
alien body in an illusion. The injuries, the blood, shock and trauma, those were
real. The physical examinations conducted by the triage teams in the gateroom
itself revealed no indications that we were dealing with anyone but members of
SG-6."
"Were the team members conscious?"
"They passed out on their return through the Stargate. Our personnel held in
stasis here began to regain consciousness when their linked alien either escaped
through the Stargate or died in the self-destruct blast."
"Are the members of SG-6 accounted for?"
"Yes, Ma'am. They were sent back through the gate to us, presumably so their
linked aliens could resume reading their thoughts."
"And there we have it!" Kinsey erupted, banging his hand down on the table. "The
security of this base is totally compromised!"
"We've changed all access, security and GDO codes and locked the co-ordinates
for P3X-118 out of the dialling program," Hammond informed him.
"The dialling program that's no longer operational?" Kinsey sneered.
"Under the supervision of Major Carter, repairs are underway, Senator."
Hammond's cool face and tone belied his intense dislike.
"Our sovereign territory despoiled, our nation's security compromised?" Kinsey
ranted. "And this is all you can do?"
"Is it all you can do?" Loughlin asked intently, looking, it seemed, to Jack.
She was wise enough to know the men at the frontline often had a radically
different opinion of what needed to be done than the brass in the rear echelon
and she wanted to hear it.
"It is not." It was Teal'c who answered first.
Conscious of Daniel's concerned stare, Jack folded his hands together
deliberately, resting them on the table. It gave the impression of composure.
"No," he backed Teal'c up. "It's not." He did not want to get into this in front
of Daniel. He knew how he'd react.
"Explain?" Loughlin ordered.
"We can send a bomb through to P3X-118," Jack said quietly, all too aware of
Daniel stiffening up at his side.
Loughlin's brows snapped together as she looked around at General Hammond for
confirmation.
"It's the logical course of action and one the President has already
authorised," Hammond supported Jack. Neither of them was happy about this. It
was something that had to be done and that was an end to it.
"A bomb?" Daniel echoed in slow dawning horror.
Jack guessed this was it, this was the fundamental difference between them. In
all their discussions about the threat presented by the foothold aliens, their
running through of possible scenarios, Daniel had never thought of them
retaliating, had certainly never imagined retaliation on such a scale.
Daniel's naïveté had been artificially cushioned by circumstance. Abydos had
been threatened twice by nuclear destruction, once with Jack's collusion, once
over his strenuous objections. Daniel had seen how far Jack was prepared to go
in order to destroy Ra. He hadn't hesitated to take the Abydonians down with
him, even when he got to know and value them. There was also Jack's alternate,
who had sent through the bomb that destroyed Chulak in the other reality. If
Daniel was thinking Jack was better than this, that he'd learned something,
Daniel was wrong. Jack hadn't evolved, he'd been lucky.
"The aliens had access to our minds, Daniel," Jack explained patiently, loath to
make this any harder than it was going to be. "They read our thoughts. This base
is compromised, its personnel endangered. Look out there." He gestured towards
the empty gateroom. "You'll see proof how compromised. They know our technology,
our weapons, our strategic capabilities, our weaknesses, not just in relation to
the SGC but globally. All of that makes them a clear and present danger to us
and to our allies." He drove his points home remorselessly, hoping not to leave
Daniel room to fight him. He didn't want to fight when he was the only one
Daniel had to turn to. He didn’t want to take that away from him. "It's not only
about us." He was trying not to be harsh. The truth was harsh enough. "Who had
knowledge of the most gate addresses? The most off-world peoples and cultures?"
"I did," Daniel replied with almost physical repugnance, the words dragged out
of him.
"They got even more from me and from all the other SG team leaders and personnel
whose minds were read. So what do we do? Cover our own asses and kiss our
off-world allies goodbye? You want Tuplo's people strung up while the aliens
live off the fat of their land? The Madronans? What about our plant-loving alien
friends on..." On? Er. Why did he do this to himself? He never, ever remembered
more than it was P-something. Crap!
"PJ2-445," Carter piped up in the nick of time.
"They'd be an easy mark."
"DanielJackson, is it not clear to you that though these aliens did not attack
us with the full force of brutality and destruction we have faced from the
Goa'uld, the fact of their attack remains?" Teal'c questioned Daniel
compassionately. "So long as they are alive and allowed to spread unchecked
throughout the Stargate system, they remain a significant threat to the Tau'ri,
to the worlds we have explored and to those as yet unvisited."
"We have a responsibility here, son," Hammond told Daniel. "And to more people
than the men and women of this command."
"When the Stargate comes on stream," General Mayeux informed Senator Loughlin,
"A 25 Megaton thermonuclear warhead will be deployed through it to the target
co-ordinates, P3X-118."
"Do you support this?" Daniel demanded of Senator Loughlin.
"As a matter of fact, I do," she responded without hesitation. "It isn't an
action I take lightly but I agree that the risk here is much too great to
ignore. It reassures me greatly to hear the Joint Chiefs' assessment backed up
by that of the people on the frontline. That's an all too rare occurrence."
"Aren't you forgetting something?" Daniel said angrily. "These aliens have
ships. They attacked the SGC and Area 51 from orbit. What makes you think
sending a bomb through to what might be their homeworld won't send them straight
back here with an armada, only this time, they wipe us out?"
"We've considered that," Loughlin replied. "And our decision stands."
"That is so incredibly short-sighted!" Daniel seethed.
"I don't believe the aliens would hold Earth responsible for an attack, Daniel,"
Carter suggested. "As far as they're concerned, our Stargates have been
destroyed and we no longer possess the capability of gate travel. They'll also
think we're cut off from our off-world allies and have no means to retaliate
against them."
"How do you know?" Daniel demanded mulishly. "Aren't they just as likely to
realise from their scans of our minds that there's mistrust between the SGC and
the NID and the Stargate at Area 51 was never actually in our control? If it was
stolen once before, what's to stop it from happening again?"
"Our tactical assessment based on their actions to date is that the loss of life
from the thermonuclear blast will be an effective deterrent," General Mayeux
attempted to shut down this particular circular argument.
"What if the target isn't the aliens' homeworld? What if an innocent, captive
population is about to destroyed? Are we really prepared to risk that?"
"Acceptable losses when balanced against the risk to the Stargate!" Kinsey
climbed back on his high horse. "Now our only gate, may I remind you? These
people..." His sweeping condemnation took in all the SGC personnel. "Have
already proven they can't be trusted to protect it from invasion or assault!"
"Major Carter has already taken steps to prevent any future incursion by these
aliens," Hammond swiftly countered.
"That's correct." Sam turned her chair a little so she could face Loughlin, not
Kinsey. "We've already learned the facsimile technology is vulnerable to
disruption from a specific tone. A high-frequency blast from a harmonic
generator every time a team returns through the gate should prevent this ever
happening again. Similar technology can be supplied to our off-world allies."
"What about the attack!" Kinsey challenged. "The world's, and more importantly
the American people's, perception of NORAD as impenetrable is irrevocably
damaged. It's not just the security of the SGC that's been compromised but the
security of this nation. NORAD's primary mission is to deter, to detect, to
defend. Through your incompetence, you've publicly jeopardised NORAD's capacity
to both deter and defend, while barely averting public exposure of the
Stargate."
"I thought you wholeheartedly believed that which flourishes in secrecy,
eschewing the light of day, should wither on the vine?" Daniel retorted fierily,
displaying his highly inconvenient memory for stupid things said in the heat of
the moment. "Or have you reversed your stance since you became equally complicit
in preserving this particular secret? If the Stargate programme were to become
public now, your crusading zeal for open government would also be publicly
exposed for the worst kind of self-serving hypocrisy, your so-called principles
cast aside simply to maintain your personal power and position in the Senate."
"Dr. Jackson," Hammond uttered a rebuke, mild as a lamb.
"How dare you!" Kinsey raged at Daniel, too mad to back down even with a
protective Teal'c glaring murderously at him. "I want this man fired!"
"That," Loughlin interceded icily, "is not your call to make, Senator! I remind
you once again that you are here at your own invitation, not mine. National
defence is not within the remit of the Appropriations Committee. You are here to
advise only."
"Then my advice," Kinsey snapped, "is that a permanent facility for the Stargate
be created at Area 51 where the gate can continue to be monitored and protected
by the NID."
"The same organisation that lost the gate last year?" Jack said derisively,
rather enjoying seeing Kinsey slapped down with such venomous panache. "I
wouldn't trust Maybourne and his crew to monitor and protect the SGC's supply of
toilet paper."
"Project Blue Book, forerunner of Stargate Command, was based at Cheyenne
Mountain originally because no other military facility afforded the same level
of security to the Stargate," Senator Loughlin issued a timely reminder. "I have
yet to hear anything that convinces me it's the fault of the SGC or NORAD that
housing the Stargate within a disused missile silo presented any extraordinary
or even foreseeable risk of vulnerability to conventional attack," she declared
with magnificent disdain. "Evidence presented from the Goa'uld attack on this
facility in the alternate reality proved the silo to be as resistant to their
advanced weaponry as it is to our conventional warheads."
"That's right," Daniel agreed vigorously, the only one of them who'd been there,
done that. Realities confused Jack. "The Goa'uld forces entered the base by
breaching the surface blast doors, not the silo. The Stargate wasn't damaged in
the attack."
Senator Loughlin, Jack thought, was remarkably well-informed. There was no way
she was hearing all of this for the first time. Someone, some place, was feeding
her all the reports. The fact she was at the base, exposing her extensive
knowledge of the Stargate programme in response to this crisis, was a fair
indicator to Jack of how much trouble they were in. The President couldn't
handle Kinsey and his political allies publicly, so Georgia Loughlin was here to
do it for him. She did it damned well. Jack would not want to cross this woman.
"I've deduced that the compound the aliens painted the Stargate's iris with
generated a specific decay signature which the alien's sensors were calibrated
to detect from high orbit," Carter announced. "Just as we would paint targets
for our own missiles. We've previously witnessed the bombardment of the iris by
the decay of high energy subatomic particles small enough to reintegrate." This
was greeted by polite, slightly baffled silence, which Carter should've been
more than used to by now. "The Goa'uld System Lord Sokar used a particle
accelerator to project his voice and image through the iris and order us to turn
Apophis over to him or be destroyed," she clarified.
"This was similar technology?" Major Davis asked curiously, his perpetual pen
poised.
"No, but the principles are the same," Carter explained readily. "Although the
iris is a trinium-titanium alloy less than three microns from the event horizon
of the wormhole, the space is sufficient to allow miniscule high energy
particles to reintegrate. Without access to our minds and knowledge of the iris,
I don't think the aliens would have come up with a way to penetrate it."
"That's a huge assumption, Major," Loughlin criticised. "Which brings me to my
next point. There are key areas where operational convenience in my opinion is
endangering safety."
"Ma'am?" Hammond abruptly lost his poker face. He hadn't been braced for this
one.
"What provision is made for decontamination and quarantine of teams both
departing and returning through the Stargate?" she asked him directly. "Alien
parasites, viruses, organisms and technology have all endangered this base,
Earth's first, last and effectively only line of defence. Effective
decontamination, medical and other forms of scanning, and suitable quarantine of
gate travelling personnel, would help to eliminate future exposure to similar
hazards," she spelled out fluently. "General Hammond, see to it that all of
these measures, appropriate protocols and procedures are in place before you
attempt to bring the Stargate back on stream. I'll expect your full report on
all precautions taken to improve base security before I'll authorise the
resumption of gate travel."
Davis made a careful note on his pad.
Fraiser looked both regretful and triumphant. The SGC had taken a hit, but she'd
won a play.
"Then there's the issue of the SG teams themselves," Loughlin moved smoothly on.
"I am appalled that four-man teams are permitted to endanger themselves and this
facility by embarking without back-up on missions of exploration, first contact
and even combat."
"This formation has served us well in the past," Hammond tried to argue.
"It has not," Loughlin denied flatly. "The four SG team members sitting at this
very table have all died at the hands of our enemies. That you," and she
included Mayeux as well as Hammond in this scathing condemnation, "would permit
such a risk to invaluable, irreplaceable personnel is incomprehensible to me!"
"No one is irreplaceable, Ma'am," Carter disagreed, sticking up for Hammond.
"I disagree." After issuing this emphatic contradiction, Senator Loughlin looked
keenly at Teal'c. "We've already heard from Major Carter on the subject. Master
Teal'c, you're uniquely valuable to us as an alien, a Jaffa warrior and as the
one-time First Prime of the Goa'uld Apophis. Do you consider yourself
irreplaceable?"
"I do not. Were I to fall in battle my Master, Bra'tac, would take my place. If
he were to fall, there are others."
Loughlin appreciated his candour. "Colonel O'Neill?"
"Honestly?" Jack grinned roguishly. "You could go to any Air Force base, throw a
stone and replace me with the first guy you hit."
"Jack!" Daniel protested, flatteringly outraged by this.
"And you, Dr. Jackson?" Loughlin fired at him. "Are you replaceable?"
"Sure," Daniel said absently, still scowling reproachfully at Jack.
"By whom?"
This focused Daniel's wandering attention. "Um." He thought about it and came up
blank. Then he thought about it some more. "Teal'c can translate Goa'uld into
English," he finally offered. "Plus he knows a number of obscure dialects."
"And can you translate the other languages Dr. Jackson reads, writes and speaks,
Teal'c?" the senator enquired.
Teal'c smiled a little. "I cannot," he said smoothly.
"General Hammond, does anyone on the base match Dr. Jackson's linguistic
expertise? Or even his fluency in one alien language?"
"No," Hammond admitted, taking another hit. Not even a whole lot of anyones.
This criticism had to sting because the general had wanted to protect Daniel
here on the base, have him advise all the SG teams, while Daniel had wanted to
hare off-world with SG-1. Jack, a selfish bastard who wanted all of that
expertise at hand, had colluded.
"Anyone, anywhere?" Loughlin asked, a trifle sarcastically.
"If there was, Catherine Langford would have hired them," Jack said ironically.
"Much less trouble." Indignant, Daniel kicked him in the ankle. Jack kicked him
back. "I see where you're going with this, Senator, and I'll tell you straight:
you're wrong. If you want me to list the many occasions when having Daniel with
SG-1 off-world instead of being back here mouldering away in his lab saved the
team and coincidentally the world, I'll be more than happy to enumerate them."
Loughlin smiled suddenly. "I'm well aware of the justification for Dr. Jackson's
continued presence on SG-1, Colonel. What wasn't so clear to me was if you
valued what you've got."
If only you knew, Jack thought.
"Invaluable and irreplaceable skills and expertise, people," Loughlin mused,
seemingly to herself but actually playing to the room. "Gentlemen, the level of
risk you are prepared to tolerate is greater than the risk I'm going to allow.
When I'm satisfied the Stargate and this command are ready to resume gate
travel, SG-1 will be accompanied on all of its missions by the Marine combat
unit SG-3."
"You can't do that!" Jack wailed. Good God almighty, not Makepeace! Makepeace!
That crazy jarhead pissed off Jack with every single breath he took and thought
in stereotypes. Plus, Daniel didn't like him.
"I have done that, Colonel." Georgia Loughlin, damn her, was laughing at Jack.
"Every specialist SG team is to be backed-up by a combat unit on all off-world
missions. See that it's done."
"Our budget will not allow for the required increase in personnel," Mayeux noted
on the SGC's behalf.
"The President has already authorised the necessary expenditure to establish
additional SG teams."
Jack leaned around Daniel to smile unpleasantly at the smouldering Kinsey. "I
bet you just loved that," he smirked.
"Colonel," Hammond said warningly. His heart wasn't exactly in it, though.
"The silo was sealed once before. Seal it again," Loughlin ordered. "Only this
time, seal it against the level of technology you've experienced out there." She
jerked a thumb over her shoulder towards the place the Stargate should be. "Not
here."
"Then may I suggest we immediately investigate the tensile strength of trinium
in large scale construction?" Carter suggested sneakily. "We've located this
super-strong element on two worlds to date, one of them uninhabited, but have
been unable to begin mining due to budgetary constraints. By current economic
standards, the operation wouldn't be economically feasible if attempted here."
"You’re ignoring the larger picture, Major Carter," Loughlin purred, her eyes
dwelling on Kinsey. "What price are we to put on ensuring the perception of the
world and the American people is that NORAD is significantly more secure now
than it was prior to the 'accident'? With the technological leaps we're enjoying
in the press if not in reality, we should be able to milk our revolutionary new
construction process and the staggering cost which makes it unfeasible for
commercial exploitation, until it moos. I'm positive our patriotic brethren in
Appropriations will come out of this smelling like a rose to the American
taxpayer."
Now that was downright nasty. Kinsey was having a bad day in lots of ways.
Jack loved it. He loved Loughlin too and so long as she was breaking Kinsey's
balls, he and the Senator were going steady. She was as tough as anyone had to
be when riding the military and keeping it honest, but she was smart and Jack
was smart enough to see she was fair, giving a little for everything she took.
He was beginning to understand why a woman had been appointed to lead the Armed
Services Committee. It was no political stunt and Loughlin had no overt agenda;
she wasn't out to put men in their place, she didn't hate the military and she
didn't have anything to prove. She simply got the job done. The woman was
practically a miracle.
"I'll see to it," Mayeux said cheerfully as Davis made more notes.
"Now, I believe General Hammond, General Mayeux and I have some administrative
and procedural matters to clear up. Thank you all for your valuable
contributions." Senator Loughlin regally smiled her dismissal. SG-1 and Fraiser
rose sweetly to their feet, saluted – Daniel sort of waved – and departed in
good order.
As a parting shot, Loughlin made their day by informing Kinsey in steely tones
that Major Davis would escort him personally back to the jet. Which was waiting.
On the runway.
"Great gal!" Jack gloated, bounding exuberantly along to the elevator, where he
sincerely hoped they'd get to wave Kinsey off. "Even if she did saddle us with
that jarhead loser Makepeace."
"She's honest," Carter judged, her voice discreetly low. "I'll give her that."
"Smart, too," Fraiser approved, still basking in the glow of her decontamination
victory.
"A formidable adversary." Teal'c was evidently smitten too.
Daniel, eyes stormy, lips pinched, arms cramped across his chest, hands stuffed
under his armpits where he couldn't slug anyone with them, stamped onto the
elevator when the doors opened in front of him, then made a point of hitting the
button that closed them before anyone had a chance to join him. The doors closed
again in Jack's surprised face.
"It's the bomb," he muttered after a moment. Probably the bomb.
"I wouldn't want to be the one who has to talk him down. Sir." Fraiser smiled
serenely up at Jack.
Jack didn't want to be the one either. "There's a reason you don't have any
friends," he sniped, going for the diminutive target of opportunity, who was
definitely asking for it. "And it's got nothing to do with the needles."
"I think we should all go talk to Daniel," Carter emphasised unsubtly, breaking
in on this routine bickering. In other words, she didn't want Jack going off all
alone to corner Daniel. Treating him as a special case. Jack pretty much always
had, but today, Carter couldn't take it. Her ego had taken a few hard knocks,
none of which she'd seen coming and all of them comparing her unfavourably with
Daniel. "We should talk as a team."
"That is what I wish also." Teal'c graciously gave Jack the chance to surrender,
which was better, he supposed, than Teal'c just fucking off and doing what he
wanted anyway.
"For cryin' out loud," he grumbled in a feeble attempt to save face as their
fearless leader, wryly aware that if Carter didn't get to talk to Daniel as part
of their team, she wouldn't get to talk to him at all. "He'll think we're
ganging up on him."
"Are we not?" Teal'c deadpanned.
| Part 1 |
Part 2 |
Part 3 | Part 4 |
Part 5 |
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