by Stargate
Anger vied with relief in the General's heart. This man had betrayed him, had almost cost him his job and his reputation. Yet there was a mute appeal in the Colonel's eyes that seemed like an apology. And then Jack looked away, wearily turning to watch as Daniel Jackson and Teal'c traipsed through the gate, both walking wounded, and trailed by a downtrodden Major Carter.
Where the devil had they been? To hell and back, by the looks of it. Hammond was already heading down to the gate-room when Harriman's voice stopped him. "Sir..."
The Sergeant was staring in astonishment through the window, and a ripple of disbelief whispered through the control room. A ghost had stepped out of the Stargate. Major Henry Boyd, followed by Lieutenant Jessica McLeod and Captain Roger Watts. Abruptly the wormhole disengaged and seven exhausted people were left standing silent and still on the ramp.
"Impossible," Hammond heard himself whisper.
At his side, Crawford looked like he was chewing nails as he glared at O'Neill. "Son of a-" He spat the words. "Lock him up. Lock them all up." Hammond guessed Crawford's anger was justified; O'Neill had condemned the man to an alien jail for a crime he hadn't committed. But still... SG10. Jack had surpassed himself; he'd saved three people who'd been dead for five years.
And he lied to you.
The truth refused to be silenced, but for the moment he ignored it. Without comment, he brushed past Crawford and raced down the stairs, along the short patch of corridor and into the gate-room. Major Lee hadn't lowered his guard, and none of the travelers had made a move. Pushing through his men, Hammond came to a halt at the foot of the ramp. For a long moment he just stared at his people. Alive. SG-1 were alive!
"Colonel O'Neill," he said at last. "I..." He was lost for words.
"Been a while, sir," O'Neill replied, squinting around the gateroom. "Sorry about that." Then, with a vague wave toward the team warily following them down the ramp, he added, "We found some old friends."
Hammond's eyes fixed on Boyd. The young man's face was no different from the day he'd stepped through the Stargate five years ago. "So I see, Colonel." Boyd stopped at the end of the ramp, shell-shocked and bewildered. "Welcome home, son."
"Thank you, sir." His gaze ran over the defense team in confusion, and Hammond realized their weapons were still raised.
He turned to Major Lee. "Stand your men down." Then, dredging through his memory - damn, shouldn't he have all the men lost under his command memorized? - he returned his attention to Boyd. "Your fourth, son?"
"Lieutenant Reed, sir. He didn't make it."
"I'm sorry to hear that."
"Thank you, sir."
"I suggest you take your team down to the infirmary," Hammond added, standing back to let SG-10 off the ramp. "We'll begin the debrief tomorrow morning."
"Yes, sir." Boyd waved his team toward the door, but before he followed he said, "General Hammond? I just want to thank you for not giving up on us. Colonel O'Neill said it's been five years." He shook his head as if the truth were impossible to believe. From his point of view, it probably was. "Thanks for coming after us, sir."
Hammond was reluctant to take the misplaced credit, but equally reluctant to say more in front of so many open ears. "Get some rest, son," he said instead. And with a nod of thanks, Boyd led his team out of the gate-room and back into a world that had considered them dead for five long years.
When they were gone, Hammond turned back to face O'Neill. "Why the hell didn't you tell me, Jack?"
"Sir, if I had..." He shrugged, and left it hanging.
You wouldn't have let us go. Maybe. Maybe not. "I assume this is why you stole the plans for the Kinahhi technology?"
O'Neill winced. "Sir, about that-"
"Not now, Colonel." The euphoria of relief was fading, and other darker realizations were crowding in. Senator Kinsey was sitting in Hammond's office, and this mess was not going to disappear.
"I was given-"
"Save it for your legal representative, son." The words came out harsher than he'd intended, and O'Neill recoiled.
"Ah...what?" The question came from Dr. Jackson. "I'm sorry, I don't know if I-"
"Daniel." The single word from O'Neill cut Jackson off in mid flow, plunging him into a brooding silence. His blue eyes radiated indignation and Hammond was forced to look away.
In the control room above, Bill Crawford was watching them intently. Never had General Hammond felt his duty weigh so heavily. But he lied to you! And there was no choice. "Major Lee, please disarm Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter. Escort them to the infirmary and place them under guard." His eyes lifted to Jack's and held his gaze. "I'm placing you both under arrest on charges of theft, deception, and conduct unbecoming to-"
"No!" Daniel's heated outburst chimed in with O'Neill's.
"Carter? Sir-"
Hammond held his hand up to silence them both. "I have no choice, Colonel. You've been AWOL for five months, you stole alien technology. And you lied to me." He encompassed the whole team with a single look. "You betrayed my trust."
A shocked silence followed. O'Neill clamped his jaws shut, at once ashamed and defensive. Daniel just blinked in shock, while Teal'c's face was stony. There was disapproval beneath the surface, mingled with the instinctive understanding of a fellow warrior. Discipline was everything to the military mind.
"He's right." Major Carter sounded drained as she trudged forward a step and handed her weapon to the nearest airman. "We knew this would happen."
"No we didn't!" Daniel objected. He was clutching one arm against his chest in obvious pain, but his eyes were ablaze. "General, we saved the lives of three people. We brought them home. How can you...? This is crazy!"
"Daniel..." O'Neill's voice was resigned, as he unclipped his weapon. "He has no choice."
Pushing himself forward, Daniel was shaking his head. "No, he has a choice. General, you have to-"
"Daniel!" O'Neill whirled on him. But there was only frustration in his voice, not anger. "Not now."
"But-"
"It's not the time," he insisted, voice lowering. He threw a significant look at the Kinahhi, mutely observing from the edge of the room. "And there are more important things."
Daniel's gaze followed O'Neill's, eyes widening in surprise, then closing in something that looked very much like defeat. "This is wrong."
Jack didn't answer, but his focus shifted past Daniel to Teal'c, who stood silently behind them. Something passed between them, some kind of acknowledgement. Teal'c stepped closer and placed a firm hand on Daniel's uninjured shoulder. Wordlessly, he nodded to O'Neill.
Turning, the Colonel cast a sideways glance at Major Carter. Her answering shrug was lifeless, as though all the fight had been beaten out of her, and he looked away unhappily. Then, after a moment's thought, Jack's back stiffened and he met Hammond's gaze with a steady look. "So," he said quietly, "Let's get this over with."
CHAPTER EIGHT
ouncilor Tamar Damaris sat alone in her office high above the quiet streets of the Kinahhi capital and gazed at the report that lay on her desk. As usual, the Colonial outposts were demanding more money and more men. Did they think the funds were bottomless? Did they expect another tax increase to fund their inefficiency? Her fingers tapped irritably against the iridescent surface of her desk, and she looked up at the man who had presented the report. "Commander Kenna, you must know that these requests are unfeasible."
The Commander's weathered face hardened. "It is not more than we require, Councilor, to maintain the Cordon."
He was ugly, Damaris thought. His face was creased by sunshine, coarsened by the wind. "The Cordon has endured for fifty years, Commander."
"It has," he agreed, jaw jutting slightly in a gesture that seemed to imply defiance. "However-"
"There is no more money," she informed him, closing the report with a soft snap. "There are no more men."
"Councilor, you must understand that the Mahr'bal population is rising and without-"
She stood,
her chair scraping softly as she rose. Kenna halted and swallowed his words. "Are you questioning me, Commander?" She allowed a note of menace to creep into her voice.
"No, Councilor."
"Good." Picking up the report, she moved to the window. Outside, all was quiet. Peaceful. She tapped the report thoughtfully against the window frame. "Perhaps," she mused, "it is time for a cull."
There was a long pause. Very long. But Damaris did not move, she merely waited for the man to answer. At length, in a voice more austere than usual, Kenna said, "Such a thing has not been contemplated since before the Cordon, Councilor."
"No, indeed it has not." She turned to face him again. His expression was neutral, but his hands were balled into fists where they hung by his side. "But if the population is ungovernable..."
"We will find a way, Councilor," he told her sharply. "With the resources available."
Damaris smiled. "Very good, Commander. Then I shall-" A soft rap on the door interrupted her. Most irritating. "Come."
One of her aids entered, hands folded apologetically. "Councilor," he began with a slight bow, "Ambassador Crawford has arrived from the Tauri. He says he bears news of some urgency."
Damaris cast a glance at the Commander; he had traveled to Earth - what a ugly name for a world - and might be able to shed some light on the Ambassador's `news'. She doubted it would be of much interest; the internecine politics of this crude people bored her. But it would behoove her to learn all she could; the price of ignorance was always high. "Let him enter," she answered, resuming her seat at her desk.
Commander Kenna made to leave, but she stopped him with a gesture. "Remain." Compliantly, he retreated to the far wall. But she noted that he watched the little Tauri official strut into her office with eyes as sharp as a bird's.
"Councilor," the Ambassador began, easy and impolite. "I see you are well."
"I am," she replied. "However, I am surprised to see you here. What news do you bear that could not wait until Councilor Athtar returned?"
Crawford glanced at the Commander, clearly wondering if he could trust the man. Damaris ignored his silent question, and after a moment he hesitantly said, "It's to do with SG-1."
"I see." Perhaps this would be of interest after all. "Please explain."
With another wary glance at Kenna, Crawford rocked forward onto his toes. His eyes, dark like dirt, narrowed with a strange, aggressive triumph. "They're back."
"Back?"
"Yup. So much for their return being `extremely unlikely'." His arms folded across his chest. "And they brought SG-10 with them. They're goddamn heroes."
This was unforeseen. "They escaped from the black hole? Impossible."
"Apparently not!" He was pacing now. "I trusted you, Damaris. You said you'd get them out of the way. It was part of the deal!"
"Calm yourself," Damaris snapped. "This is unexpected, but not catastrophic." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "Have they been apprehended for the theft of our technology?"
"O'Neill and Carter have. But not with any enthusiasm, I can tell you." He stepped up to her desk, fingers impudently resting upon it as he leaned forward. "They have friends, Damaris. Powerful friends. And if they find out about your deal with the Senator you can kiss your plans goodbye, because they'll-"
"Our agreement," Damaris insisted, "will remain secret." Slowly, she rose to her feet and moved around the desk, thoughtfully. "In fact, this may work to our advantage." O'Neill's mind was strong; his aura on the sheh fet had intrigued her. Resourceful, deceptive and ruthless. Yet loyal, intense and principled. A dangerous combination. And a powerful one... "When you return to your world, Ambassador, inform General Hammond that the Kinahhi Security Council intends to invoke the extradition clause of our treaty with the Tauri."
Crawford stopped dead. His dark eyes glittered with untrammeled glee. "You mean...?"
Damaris permitted herself a thin smile. "I would know more of Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter. Their minds will prove most... enlightening." Her smile faded. "And you can rest assured, Ambassador, that they will never again give you or your master reason for concern."
Crawford bristled. Did he not like the term `master'? She spoke only the truth.
"You know Hammond will fight this, don't you?"
"He may try." She was indifferent to his concern. "But he is bound by the laws of his land."
"But he-"
"Commander Kenna?" The soldier stepped forward, face schooled. "Did you not meet General Hammond?"
"I did," Kenna replied. His cool gaze gave away little; so different from the lurid emotions on display in the Tauri's undisciplined face. "He appears to be a man of honor." He paused, and then more quietly added, "As does Colonel O'Neill."
Damaris stared at him. "Commander?"
He lowered his gaze, adopting the proper deference. "Merely my observation, Councilor."
Indeed. She studied him for a long moment before saying, "Escort Ambassador Crawford to the Stargate, Commander." He moved instantly to obey. Crawford looked like he might have more to say, but few argued with Commander Kenna. He had almost ushered the disgruntled man from her office before Damaris said, "Upon your return, Commander, ensure that you pass through the sheh fet."
Kenna stopped, only for a fraction of a moment, but the hesitation was clear. "As you command, Councilor." Without lifting his eyes to hers, he closed the door and left her in peace.
But not in tranquility. Kenna's muted defiance aside, the return of SG-1 was troubling. How was it possible that they had evaded the snare? With an irritated sigh, she smoothed down her robes and returned to her contemplation of the city that stretched out before her, beautiful in its passive serenity.
Stretched out on the narrow cot in one of the SGC's premier holding cells, Jack O'Neill listened to distant footsteps penetrating the base's ceaseless electrical hum. He counted the steps as they approached, then passed, his door, and wondered if Carter was listening too. She was over the hall. He'd glimpsed her through the door's narrow window a couple of hours after he'd been locked up. Like him, she'd been patched up in the infirmary, but she'd still looked wan. Nothing like the Carter he knew. He just hoped Doc Fraiser had taken a good look at her - and not just at the physical injuries. Carter had been holding on by her fingernails ever since they'd left Baal's palace; he was afraid Reed's death had loosened even that tenuous grip.
Closing his eyes, he pushed aside his anxiety and tried to focus on the positive. Boyd was home, his family was whole again. That was something worth celebrating, right? And yet... There were Kinahhi crawling all over the SGC, Carter was locked up and driving herself crazy with guilt, and he had no idea what would happen to Teal'c and Daniel. But he seriously doubted that being allowed to continue their fight against the Goa'uld would feature very large in their futures. It was a high price for the lives of three people, and he couldn't help wondering if he'd been foolish to risk so much just to ease his pangs of conscience. No one gets left behind. It was beginning to sound like a cliche.
The metallic slide of the lock opening drew him back into the moment, and he swung his legs off the bed. When the door opened and he saw who stood outside, Jack rose to his feet and came to attention. This damaged bond of trust was another casualty of his personal quest for redemption.
General Hammond dismissed the guard who'd let him in, waiting for the door to shut before he spoke. "At ease, son." His voice was flat.
Cautiously Jack relaxed his stance, but he was far from easy. He owed the General an apology, not to mention an explanation. Hammond knew it too; he was watching Jack, eyes astute but distant. Something had changed between them, something profound. And, Jack realized, something that meant a hell of a lot to him. "Sir," he began, but Hammond cut him off.
"I don't know what to say to you, Jack. I don't know where to begin."
"If I'd told you, and you'd approved the mission, knowing that the plans were stolen-" He shook his head. "Sir, I didn't want to involve you in this."
"Considered?" Past tense.
Hammond ignored the interruption. "You told me to investigate Ambassador Crawford. You made me complicit in framing an innocent man for a crime you committed."
The truth of that hit like cold water. "I didn't-"
"Didn't what?" Hammond demanded. "Didn't plant the plans in his laptop?" Damn it, but there was a hint of hope in the man's voice. Even now, Jack realized, the General wanted to believe the best of him. Too bad.
"No, I did that, sir. But I didn't mean for you to-" He shook his head. "I screwed up. I'm sorry, I never meant for you to be involved."
Hammond's fury hadn't abated. If anything, it had gotten stronger. "Just tell me why, Jack. Why condemn another man to jail for your crime?"
Kill or be killed. That was the short answer; one he'd learned the hard way during a decade in Special Operations. Sometimes you just had to get things done - it was the law of the jungle. And if Hammond didn't realize that then he was a fool. And George Hammond was no fool. "Crawford's a threat," Jack said at last. "I knew it the first moment I saw him. He's Kinsey's lapdog, sir. He was just looking for an excuse to bring us all down."
"An excuse you gave him."
"He'd already written his report."
Hammond took a step closer. "Revenge, Jack?"
Perhaps. He wasn't above vengeance, or any of the other baser emotions. "You said it yourself, sir. This Big Brother stuff Kinsey's after is dangerous. And there isn't a damn thing you can do about it." Taking a deep breath, Jack lowered his voice. "I did something about it. I threw a wrench in the works. Turns out, I needed a bigger wrench."