by Karen Miller
“Thank you, General,” Aldwin said, his voice soft and mild as ever, despite the seriousness of the situation. “The energy source that your SGC teams discovered, that both we and the Goa’uld detected with our long-range scans, is called b’tac’nesh. It is a substance highly prized by the Tok’ra and the Goa’uld. Because it is created by a random confluence of natural events, which cannot be reliably duplicated in a laboratory, it is very rare. Whole planets have been destroyed in the pursuit of b’tac’nesh. Thousands killed. Jacob Carter says that not even the Tau’ri lust for gold can match the Goa’uld’s hunger for it.”
“And it’s up to us to make sure they stay hungry,” Hammond said, his face bleak. “I’m told the weapons they can power with this b’tac’nesh make their staffs and zats look like feather dusters. We cannot let the Goa’uld get their hands on whatever there is of it on that planet. Unfortunately, despite the Tok’ra’s heroic efforts, the Jaffa on ’114 had time to send Cronus a message before they were wiped out. Which means —”
“That’s been confirmed, sir?” Jack put in. “Sorry, I just don’t want us going off half-cocked if —”
“Yes, Colonel, it’s confirmed. High Councilor Per’sus informed me twenty minutes ago that according to their intel, Cronus has recalled his First Prime and his best Jaffa from a conflict with Yu, intending to send them to ’114 so they can appropriate all the b’tac’nesh they can find.”
And just like that, the tension around the table ratcheted up several notches. Jack rapped the conference table with his knuckles. “So now it’s a race. How much of this stuff is on ’114? Does anybody know?”
“Our scan of the planet suggested the b’tac’nesh is located only in the village area,” said Aldwin. “But there may well be more than one deposit.”
“Great,” Jack said, scorchingly sarcastic. “Hide and seek with the Goa’uld breathing down our necks. General, you said there were recent deaths. This stuff’s toxic?”
At a nod from Hammond, Janet opened the folder she’d brought with her and checked her notes, compiled through a long and sleepless night of studying her own test results and Tok’ra research.
“There are similarities between the biological impacts of b’tac’nesh and beta radiation, as well as the cosmic radiation that’s been measured by NASA,” she said, in her best detached lecturer mode. “This means that in the very short term — a matter of hours, a day at the most — an exposed, unprotected human will suffer skin lesions and some compromise of the respiratory system.” She pulled a face. “Our people are textbook examples. Fortunately they’re responding to treatment. But any longer term exposure than a day and b’tac’nesh is almost certainly fatal. As you’d expect, Tok’ra and Goa’uld symbiotes offer complete protection against its effects.”
“So that’s yay for Teal’c and Aldwin,” Daniel said, eyebrows raised high above the rims of his glasses. “And for those of us playing hooky when the symbiotes were handed out?”
“The Tok’ra have told me that the deep space radiation vaccine they helped us develop will provide sufficient protection for this mission.”
Jack shot her a dark look. “And if they’re wrong?”
“Your caution is understandable, Colonel,” Aldwin said. “But unnecessary. I have studied the chemical properties of the radiation inoculant and in sufficient concentration it will suffice to protect you.”
“You’ve studied —” Jack laughed, disbelieving, as everyone else stared. “You’re a scientist in your spare time?”
“Yes,” said Aldwin, unsmiling. “We Tok’ra pride ourselves on honing more than one skill, Colonel.”
Janet exchanged glances with Hammond, then cleared her throat. “Colonel, I checked Aldwin’s findings and I’m satisfied that you will all be fine, once you receive an extra dose of the vaccine. In fact it’s the active components of the vaccine that are giving us the best treatment results for our people. Trust me. I’ve got this.”
Jack stared at her, and she stared back. After a moment, he looked down. “Okay.” He looked up again, glanced at Griff and Bridget, then settled his gaze on Hammond. “So what’s the plan, General? You want us to blow this stuff to kingdom come?”
“Only as a last resort,” Hammond replied. “The preferred option is for the SGC to provide ground support while a team of Tok’ra experts extracts the b’tac’nesh for their use.”
“Tok’ra use? General —”
Hammond flattened his palms to the table. “Yes, Colonel. Currently we cannot make use of this material. However, in return for our assistance High Councilor Per’sus has agreed that we will retain a sample large enough for us to begin scientific investigation of its potential Earth applications. In the meantime we’ll be keeping it out of Goa’uld hands, and that’s a win in my book.”
“General Hammond is correct,” Teal’c said, before Jack could respond. “We must do everything in our power to deny the Goa’uld this victory. Even detonation of the b’tac’nesh is preferable to their procurement of it.”
“Ah — what happens if we do detonate it?” Daniel said.
Teal’c shrugged. “Depending upon the size of the deposit, Daniel Jackson, the resulting explosion could easily tear P5X-114 apart. Even a handful of b’tac’nesh crystals contains the power to destroy many hundreds of square miles.”
“So you’re saying it’s the Goa’uld equivalent of a thermonuclear warhead,” Dixon said, breaking the shocked silence.
“Indeed,” said Teal’c, gravely. “Which is why detonation should be a last resort. It is likely that in doing so we would be killing many humans on the planet.”
“But it’s perfectly fine for us to — what?” Jack demanded. “Shove it in our pockets and bring it on home?”
“If necessary,” Aldwin agreed. “Although that is unlikely. We will have purpose-built receptacles to hand. B’tac’nesh crystals are relatively harmless, Colonel O’Neill. While they do emit what you call radiation, and cause devastating destruction upon detonation, there is otherwise little to fear from them. In their unprocessed form, that is.”
Another silence. Then Jack slewed round to glare accusingly at Teal’c, seated beside him. “Why do you never tell us this stuff?”
“I apologize for my oversight,” Teal’c said, with a nod to Hammond. “In truth I never dreamed we would stumble across any b’tac’nesh. The last find was many years ago, when I was still a child.”
Hammond raised a reassuring hand. “No apology required, Teal’c.”
“Just backtracking for a moment,” Bridget said, fingers tapping the table. “How are we going to locate this b’tac’nesh? It took our people hours to pinpoint it the first time.”
“Yes, Major, but this time we’ll have our very own tour guide,” Jack said. “Tomic can —”
“No, he can’t,” Janet interrupted. “Captain Tomic is grounded. Complications from his head wound. He did manage to rough out a map for you.” Over her strenuous objections. But Mads would crawl across broken glass for the SGC. “I’m sorry, but it’s the best I can do.”
“The Tok’ra, then.” Jack looked at Aldwin. “Your long-range scanners picked up the stuff from orbit, right?”
Aldwin’s expression became guarded. “Our long-range scanners are not designed for detailed searches.”
“Okay, but you’ve got something that’ll sniff it out,” Griff said, sitting a little straighter. “You must have.”
“Sure they do, Griff,” Jack said, not even trying to hide his disgust. “They just don’t want to share their gizmos. They never do, unless their backs are against the wall.”
“Aldwin?” Hammond said, as the Tok’ra stared at the table. “We understand your people’s instinct to safeguard your technology but surely, in this case, priority must be given to outwitting Cronos.”
“I agree,” Aldwin said
, after a long and uncomfortable pause. “And I will speak to High Councilor Per’sus before we depart.”
“Very well,” Hammond said, relieved. He looked around the table. “If there are no further —”
“Actually, sir?” Jack frowned at Dave Dixon. “Not to appear ungrateful, but given the importance of this mission shouldn’t we be putting our best best foot forward? As in Carter —”
Hammond shook his head. “No. It’s not feasible. Barring a problem with your physicals you’ll be gating out within the hour. Dr. Fraiser?”
Acutely, uncomfortably aware of Dave Dixon’s abruptly spiked interest, Janet flipped closed her manila folder. “Yes, sir. SG teams Two and Seven are being cleared and inoculated as we speak, and Drs. Warner and Bradley are waiting on SG-1, Major Griff and Major O’Connell. I’ll be handling Colonel Dixon’s physical myself.”
“Then I suggest you hop to it, people,” Hammond said, standing. “Gear up and report to the gate room as soon as you’re given the all clear. Aldwin, you’ll return to Vorash for your team, and bring them back here?”
“Yes, General,” said Aldwin. “And, as I said, I will consult with the High Councilor.”
“Thank you.”
And with that, they were dismissed. As Aldwin headed for the spiral staircase leading down to Ops, and Hammond returned to his office, Jack shoved his hands in his pockets and looked Dave Dixon up and down.
“Not that I don’t appreciate a sharp set of dress blues, Dixon,” he drawled, lightly biting, “but you’re going to look a mite over-sartorial in the wilds of P5X-114.”
“No need to feel insecure, Jack,” Dave said, unfazed. “I dumped my duffel at security on the way up.” He turned. “Doc? Are you ready?”
“And waiting,” Janet retorted, file in hand. “On all of you.”
“Even Teal’c?”
“Even I, Colonel,” said Teal’c, heavily. “Dr. Fraiser is nothing if not thorough.”
“That’s one word for it,” Jack muttered. “But I can suggest a few more.”
“Please don’t,” she said, and shooed them. “After you, people.”
The SGC’s elevator wasn’t what anyone would call roomy, so she and Dixon held back to let the others crowd in, and waited in silence until it returned. She didn’t have to look up at him to know that his thoughts were churning at high speed. She could feel them, like a dynamo. Sam’s absence was a gaping wound in the team; that swift exchange between Hammond and Jack a flashing neon sign. When the elevator doors opened again they entered, still silent, and traveled up the six floors to the infirmary level.
“Okay,” Dixon said, as she closed the door to her office behind them. “What the hell is going on?”
Heart pounding, Janet tossed the folder onto her desk and opened his most recent physical report, which had been emailed over from the Pentagon. She’d already read it once but now she read it again, buying time. Wrestling with her conscience about how much to reveal. The after-action mission report on the alien entity incident had touched briefly on the fact that Sam had been wounded, without going into detail. Reports intended for eyes outside the SGC, even eyes with high clearance, were compiled by Hammond himself into Readers Digest versions of the actual events. Not just for security reasons, but also to protect, as far as he could, the privacy of the personnel whose wellbeing he guarded so fiercely. Only the President and the Joint Chiefs ever got the whole story. And not even they’d been told about the Jack and Sam fallout from the za’tarc incident, or the complications of their unorthodox relationship following the SGC’s most recent near miss.
Now here she was, seriously considering a breach of Hammond’s decision. Those difficult confidences. And to think she’d worried about confessing the truth to her diary…
“Dr. Fraiser?” Dixon prompted. He’d stripped off his jacket and tie, and was busy unbuttoning his shirt. “Come on. Blind Freddy could see something’s up. Where’s Carter? And why does O’Neill look like he’s ready to blow a gasket? Or worse.”
Oh, how she wanted to confide in him. A friend. Someone who knew the players in this terrible drama. But how could she? It wasn’t her heartbreak to share. Turmoiled, she tapped her computer screen. “Says here you tested all clear for the chickenpox virus. But I can guess what it was like, nursing two little ones through it. How are you feeling?”
“I’m good,” Dixon said, impatient. “I promise. Doc —”
“Colonel, please. We need to start your physical.”
He sighed. “Sure. Whatever.”
She grabbed her stethoscope off the desk and began the familiar routine. Heart. Lungs. Quiet, please. Deep breath. And again. And again. Buying more time. Seeking the elusive balance between medical ethics and military pragmatism. Once upon a time there’d have been nothing to consider. But these days? Not so much. Trouble was, the longer she worked at Stargate Command the more it seemed that her cherished ethics were hardly getting a look in. Pen-light next, testing Dixon’s visual reflexes while he perched on the edge of her desk. Then the thermometer, for his temperature. Everything normal.
“Doc…” He looked at her, his expression a mix of compassion and irritation. “Does Carter not being here have anything to do with that alien entity business? Because I have to tell you, the after-action report you guys sent us was even vaguer than usual.”
She shouldn’t be surprised. Before Adjo, she doubted Dave Dixon would’ve been able to recognize a vague after-action report if one bit him on the butt. Now, having lived through that catastrophically dangerous mission in person, it seemed he could smell official prevarication at fifty paces.
“Hey,” he said, his voice gentle. “Janet. Whatever you tell me stays between us. You don’t even need to give me all the gory details. Just — a heads up.”
She stared at him, fingers fisted inside her lab coat’s pockets. This man had helped her save Daniel’s life. Helped save hundreds of sick and suffering Adjoan villagers. Picked up the burden of command when Jack was no longer able to carry it, then set it down again, lightly, when he was no longer needed. If she couldn’t trust Dave Dixon, who could she trust?
Oh, lord. Please let me be doing the right thing…
“Okay,” she said, feeling her heart pound. “David. I’ll tell you this much…”
The breeze that greeted them as they stepped through the gate on P5X-114 carried with it a sickly-sweet taint of death. O’Neill grimaced. Great. Wasn’t that the cherry on this lousy cake’s frosting? Decomposing flesh and radiation poisoning… and no Carter. Just Dave Dixon. An okay guy, sure, battle-tested and dependable, but he had the nasty habit of seeing too much.
Just like Frank. Crap, he better not start talking about Frank. I am so not in the mood.
The gate’s event horizon whooshed to nothingness. Which meant he and his SGC cohorts — and Dixon — were stranded in hostile territory with only the Tok’ra for company.
Oh, joy.
Another gust of stink-laden breeze. “Yuk,” said Daniel, pressing his forearm to his nose. “You’d think after all this time I’d be used to that smell.”
“Indeed,” Teal’c agreed. “It is most unpleasant.”
O’Neill waited for Dixon to chime in, but Frank Cromwell’s second-in-command was too busy blissing out over being off world again. Sure, he’d expressed his sympathies for the injured from SG teams Six and Nine and, absolutely, he was sincere. But despite that stark reminder of danger, and any lingering memories of their time on Adjo, Dixon was downright giddy to be here. Not even the risk of this gig shriveling his gonads had blunted the edge of his enthusiasm. He stared at the man, morose.
God, give me strength.
“Colonel O’Neill.”
And that was Aldwin. He swung round. “That’s my name, don’t wear it out.”
Aldwin gave him The Look. The on
e that said I have no idea what you’re talking about, you stupid monkey-man, but I will humor you because I have a snake in my head which means I am superior to you in every way. He really, really hated that look.
With a quelling glance at his three disapproving, generically Tok’ra colleagues, Aldwin joined him. “Colonel, I know we have discussed this, but I feel I should once again urge you to consider —”
“No,” he said. “You shouldn’t. Three SG teams are not hanging around this gate twiddling our thumbs and picking our noses while the sun climbs ever higher and you and your pals play hunt the b’tac’nesh. I mean, I know it chaps your butt that Per’sus gave the okay for us to use your precious gizmos, but you’ll just have to deal with it.”
“Our gizmos are highly sensitive and complex pieces of equipment, Colonel. I am merely concerned —”
“Don’t be,” he snapped. “We’ve got opposable thumbs, just like you. Aldwin, for crying out loud. You saw the UAV footage. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover before Cronos’s goons get here and, according to your embedded spy, not much time. The faster we get this done and get out of here the happier I’ll be, so we will all be playing today. Understood?”
But Aldwin was a persistent bastard. “Colonel, while Cronos will surely send ships he will also, I promise you, send Jaffa through the Stargate. Someone must stay here to keep watch for them and defend our only means of escape.”
“It’s only our only way out because you guys couldn’t rustle up one lousy little —”