by Stargate
Daniel mentally cursed himself for not having gone through all of Nick's papers sooner; there just never seemed to be enough time.
"Oh, all right," snapped Wodeski. "Are you in front of a computer? What's your email address?"
Within minutes the glyphs appeared on the computer screen. Daniel's stomach clenched in excitement; they were identical to the ones in Nick's journal.
From an archeological point of view, the discovery of a written language at Teotihuacan was the find of the century. More importantly, it could confirm his theory that the Orbanians had originated from the ancient Mesoamerican city.
Daniel turned the screen so that Teal'c could see. "Professor, I'd be willing to...uhm...bring Nick's notes to you personally."
"So you can use my find to propagate your family's insane alien conjectures? Not going to happen!"
"I can assure you that I no longer have any desire to promote my.. previous theories," said Daniel. Which is why he had no intentions of letting Nick's notes out of his possession. Of course if Wodeski didn't agree, he would have the dig quarantined faster than the professor could howl `academic impropriety'.
Wodeski's gnashing teeth made an interesting noise over the phone. "When?" he demanded.
Daniel glanced at the wall clock. If he left now, he could be in Mexico City after lunch. "Early this evening."
Wodeski hung up; another of his infamous mannerisms.
Sighing, Daniel glanced across at Teal'c, whose face had adopted a look of stoic resignation. "What? What is it?" Daniel demanded.
"I would be happy to accompany you, Daniel Jackson."
"Oh, look Teal'c, that's not - "
"Where?"
Daniel almost jumped. He turned and stared at the man standing in his doorway.
Hands stuffed in the pockets of his wom leather jacket, a blankly innocent look on his face, Colonel Jonathan `Jack' O'Neill strolled in. "So," he continued, his eyes coming to rest on Nick's open journal. "What's goin' on?"
Teal'c replied, perhaps a shade too quickly, "Daniel Jackson wishes for me to accompany him to Mexico."
"Acapulco?" Jack's face registered astonishment. "I thought we were going fishing?"
Glancing at Teal'c with a look of understanding, Daniel said, "Um, yeah....ah this just came up, Jack, and..." He grabbed a leather satchel from the floor and tossed it onto his desk. "If you'd like to come, of course. I mean it could be a complete waste of time, but my undergraduate professor in anthropology - he's actually an archeologist now, he gave up anthropology after that incident with the Australopithecines, then his father died and left him an income in excess of several small countries. Anyway, he's just found a tomb, well he didn't actually find it, but - "
"Daniel!" Jack abruptly cut off his rapid-fire explanation.
"Okay, well." Daniel closed Nick's journal and packed it into the satchel. He pulled out his passport, scrunched from being jammed at the back of a drawer, and waved it at Teal'c. "You'll need to get the one that General Hammond organized for you."
Teal'c made for the door with a speed that belied his Olympian frame.
Looking like a kid who's just learned that someone else was throwing a better party, Jack called after him, "Buy me a T-shirt. Extra large!"
"I will do so, O'Neill."
"Sorry, Jack." Daniel snatched up his bag, turned off his desk lamp and all but ran out the door.
Jack was silent for a moment, then called after them, "Have fun. And don't forget to tell Hammond where you're going!"
Daniel waved an acknowledgement and hurried after Teal'c. "Oh," he called to Jack over his shoulder. "Could you let Sam know? I was supposed to have lunch with her. And if we don't get back sooner," he flashed a brief smile, "Merry Christmas."
Despite briefly switching bodies with Teal'c, Jack had never really gotten the whole kelno'reeni thing, so it should have come as no surprise that Teal'c had never really gotten fishing. To each his own. But Acapulco? Jack tried to conjure up an image of Teal'c and Daniel sitting on a beach under a coconut tree, sipping Pina Coladas sprouting paper umbrellas and four pounds of decorative fruit. He was still trying to picture it as he walked past Carter's lab - and did a double take. The door was open.
"Carter," he demanded, walking inside. "What the hell are you doing?"
Sitting on the floor of the lab was a large, butt-ugly contraption. The long-fingered hand of a woman appeared over the top of the titanium casing, stroking it with a lover's caress, or perhaps maternal protectiveness. A mop of short blond hair extracted itself from the gizzards, then a set of wide blue eyes stared up at him. Carter's cheek was smeared with gunk and she had that early-morning, disheveled look. "Sir? I thought you'd left already." She stood and grabbed a rag from her workbench.
"I just came back to get... something. And don't change the subject."
Her eyebrows lifted innocently as she wiped her hands on the rag.
Jack glared at her. "General Hammond ordered SG-1 to take two weeks off. It's almost Christmas, Carter. Weren't you going to see your brother?"
She looked down at the machine. "Mark's taken the family to Hawaii, so I was just - "
"Ah!" Jack held up his hand. "Time. Off. Carter. Teal'c and Daniel have left the building, now it's your turn."
"I was supposed to have lunch with Daniel." She blinked in surprise.
"Yeah, well, he and Teal'c are going to Acapulco."
Her hands froze. "You're kidding."
"I'm sure we'll hear all about it when they get back. Unfortunately. Now why don't you leave that ...that ...?"
"Generator for the X-302."
Memories of its ill-fated predecessor threatened to elevate an incipient headache into a full-blown migraine. "Yeah, that," he replied, wincing. "Anyway, if you want to drop by the cabin sometime, I'll make you a cup of coffee. Real coffee," he added, frowning in the direction of her empty cup.
Carter continued to stare at him, her face reflecting uncharacteristic confusion. About what, he wasn't entirely sure. It was straightforward enough. She had to go find a life for two weeks. And if his Minnesota cabin wasn't exactly a five-minute detour, the casual offer seemed less problematic than an outright invitation.
"You're going fishing at this time of year?"
He considered for a moment, then tried for nonchalance. "Icefishing?"
She blinked.
What the hell, nonchalance was overrated. "Okay, well." He tossed her a wave and left. No point waiting for a definitive no.
Jack was halfway down the corridor when Carter called, "Sir?" He turned to see her hurrying out of her lab, still wiping her now clean hands on the rag. Her fingers betrayed her uncertainty but he saw resolution on her face. "You know.. .maybe I could just -"
Klaxons rang and the familiar alert echoed throughout the subterranean complex, "Unscheduled off world activation!"
Staring at her in disbelief, Jack lifted his arms in surrender.
"What's happening?" Jack asked when he arrived in the control room. Reflections from the lucent blue puddle rippled across the gray walls. He glanced down at the Stargate, surprised to see the iris open.
General Hammond shot him a disapproving frown. The frown intensified when Carter walked in. "I thought I ordered SG-1 to take some down time?" A small sigh of resignation escaped the General's lips when Daniel and Teal'c ran into the room. "Never mind."
Jack lifted an inquiring eyebrow at Daniel.
"Eh... the next flight to Mexico isn't for a couple of hours." Daniel stuffed his hands in his pockets. "What's going on?"
"It's SG-10," replied Hammond. "They're not scheduled to return from M4D-376 until tomorrow."
"Sir," said Sergeant Harriman, looking up. "They're transmitting now."
Carter moved to stand behind Harriman, no doubt to watch the incomprehensible stream of incoming data. Jack gently nudged her and mouthed, "M4D-376?"
She stared at the screen. "It's a moon orbiting a gas giant. SG-10 accompanied a geological team there to collect
geothermal naquadah samples. They've been gone almost two weeks."
Jack had known SG-10 was off world with a bunch of rock hounds, but he could never remember the alphanumeric designations of the planets.
Telemetry from the MALP fuzzed and spluttered, and then a bloody-faced visage appeared. A familiar tension tingled Jack's spine and he exchanged looks with Hammond. The General's expression had switched from annoyed to alarmed. "Major Anders, is that you?" asked Hammond.
Onscreen, a shaky Anders replied, "Sir." He sat down heavily, lifted a roughly bandaged hand and pushed back the hood of his parka. A few flakes of snow settled in his matted hair. Whatever had happened to the team, the immediate danger was past. Or was it? Anders cast a suspicious look back over his shoulder. The sky was bruised and sullen, but that wasn't what caught Jack's attention. There was something peculiar about the clouds capping the mountain. They pulsed rhythmically, changing hue from amber to a charred red. Jack's lips thinned in revulsion. It might have been five years, but the false memory of Daniel dying in a wall of flames on Oannes raised its ugly head and snapped at him. He almost recoiled from the screen.
Carter actually did take a step back, and bumped into him. "Sony, sir," she whispered.
Jack held out a hand to steady her, but Carter was already examining the scene with clinical detachment. He envied her ability to reduce even the worst situation down to something that could be analyzed and catalogued like a bug on a pin. More than that, he depended on it. "Volcanoes," he muttered under his breath. "Great."
Hammond's order broke the momentary spell. "Medical teams to the `gate room. On the double, we have injured." He turned back to the screen. "Major, what happened?"
"Big quake, sir," wheezed Anders. "We were setting up the last seismic station on the ancient mud-bubbles above Frying Pan Lake, when it hit." He paused to get his breath. "The ground turned liquid, and then geysers shot out everywhere!"
Vapor trails from Anders' mouth fogged the camera lens. Grimacing, he held his ribs and leaned forward to wipe it clear. "Dabruzzi and Jablonsky are bringing back Sergeant King." Behind him, two people were carrying a makeshift stretcher up the long, narrow ramp. "She's scalded real bad. Peterson and MacDougall can't walk. Need a medevac team for them, ASAP, sir."
Jack turned and went downstairs. Boots clumped on the concrete as Daniel, Carter, Teal'c and General Hammond followed. Dr Fraiser arrived in the `gate room from the other direction, a train of medical orderlies in her wake.
The ripples in the event horizon barely moved when the men stepped through the `gate. Jack recognized the civilian volcanologist, Robert Dabruzzi. His beard was crusted with bloodstained ice, probably because of the deep cut on his cheek. Mud caked his orange ski pants and his woolen shirt was tom and filthy. The second man, a geologist named Jablonsky, looked worse. The stretcher, fashioned from survey poles and the men's knotted parkas, carried Sergeant Amanda King. Her bums weren't evident; they were hidden beneath her clothes, but her normally attractive ebony face was gray with pain and shock.
Fraiser was up the ramp directing everyone. "Get her on the gurney - gently," she said, examining King. "And set up a morphine drip immediately"
The `gate shut down and Anders staggered down the ramp. Jack grabbed him before he fell. "Take it easy, Major."
"I'm...okay. Just - " Anders coughed. A smattering of blood sprayed from his mouth.
Remembering the truly exquisite feeling of broken ribs puncturing lungs, Jack carefully lowered Anders onto a stretcher. Before he could move back, the Major grabbed his arm and said, "Sir... you gotta listen. MacDougall and - " His words turned into a choke and he began bringing up blood - a lot more blood.
Fraiser speared Jack with an icy glare and inserted herself between them. "It'll have to wait, Colonel. Major Anders is hemorrhaging. Infirmary, now!" she ordered the medics.
"The dam holding back Frying Pan Lake," said a voice from behind, "is on the verge of collapsing."
Jack turned around. Dabruzzi didn't look up as he continued to speak; he was too busy untying his parka from the makeshift stretcher. "There's a blizzard forecast tonight. I have to get back."
"You're not going anywhere until I've seen to that laceration!" Fraiser called sternly on the way out.
Dabruzzi started to object, but Hammond said, "Where are MacDougall and Peterson?"
"We got them to the instrument hut." The volcanologist's eyes were filled with concern as he watched Anders carried out. "It's up in the next valley. When the dam gives way, the floodwater won't reach them."
"What are their injuries?"
"Peterson's ankle is busted and MacDougall's knee is wrecked." Dabruzzi pulled on his parka.
"How long do you estimate the dam will hold?" asked Hammond.
"I'm not an engineer, but at the rate it's crumbling, I'd say a day, two at the most -unless we get another of those weird quakes, then it's anyone's guess. The Stargate should be safe enough. It and the DHD are embedded in a raised basalt platform about ten feet off the ground. It's located in a hanging valley, so the water will just flow straight past and out the other end. I'm more worried about Peterson and MacDougall."
"Sir," said Jack. "Request permission to -
"If Peterson and MacDougall are safe for the moment," interrupted Hammond. "And you're sure the `gate will weather the flood, it might be better to wait until after the dam breaks."
"Absolutely not, General." Dabruzzi shook his head decisively. "If the blizzard is as bad as predicted, the men could be in serious trouble. There are minimal supplies in the hut, and next to no heating. We'd moved everything down into the main camp in anticipation of returning to Earth tomorrow."
Hammond considered a moment. "Get that taken care of" He pointed to the volcanologist's cheek. "Then report to the briefing room."
"General?" Jack prompted.
Staring at each of them in turn, Hammond said, "Alright, SG-1 report to the briefing room as well. Meanwhile, I want a medevac team prepared to move out. But I'm not giving the order to go until I have a more thorough understanding of the situation."
Fifteen minutes later, Jack was scratching at a tiny blob of wax that some overenthusiastic cleaner had smeared across the briefing room table. "Although most folks call 'em mudslides," he said, interrupting Dabruzzi's explanation of the particular species of volcano on M4D-376, "it's actually liquefaction."
Silence followed. He looked up. Carter and Daniel were staring at him like he'd grown another head, while Teal'c seemed vaguely amused. "What?" Jack demanded innocently. He bulldozed the tiny curls of wax onto the carpeted floor. "I was just reading up on Io's volcanoes." And if he sounded like he knew something about it, maybe Dabruzzi would cut his briefing in half. The sooner they got this over with the sooner they could retrieve McDougall and Peterson. And the sooner he could quit stomping all over his personal demons. Well, one of them. The conditioned terror that Nem had instilled in them on Oannes had almost succeeded. Believing Daniel to be dead, they had almost abandoned him. Nothing, especially not fear, could justify leaving anyone behind.
"So these so-called `frozen' mud bubbles are like a house of cards that's full of water?" said Hammond.
"That's right, General." Dabruzzi ran a hand across his scraggly beard. The gash on his face was taped together, but he hadn't had time to get cleaned up. "Earthquakes generate seismic waves. When these waves travel through the mud - it's actually a form of high silica clay - at a certain frequency, the silica structure collapses and releases the water in a process that Colonel O'Neill correctly described as liquefaction. The moraine dam holding back Frying Pan Lake is also made from this high-silica clay mixed with glacial rubble. The earthquake has severely weakened it."
"Strictly speaking, shouldn't they be called WD-376-quakes?" Jack instantly berated himself; he was just feeding into Dabruzzi's delusion that he was paying attention.
Confusion crossed Dabruzzi's face. He shot Jack an odd look, obviously trying to figure out if he was being suckered
. Still frowning uncertainly, the volcanologist reached across the table and sorted through a dazzling array of readouts. "General, the entire planet is like Iceland. There are hot springs and lava tunnels, ice fumaroles, mud pools, colored mineral lakes, in fact, just about every hydrothermal and volcanic formation you can name. It's practically a theme park for volcanologists."
"Because the moon is in orbit around a gas giant," explained Carter, "it's normally subjected to intense tidal forces. However, the orbit is somewhat erratic, and every fifty-two years the forces exerted by the primary planet apply an even greater than usual pressure on the crust."
"Triggering even more tectonic activity that'll peak in a couple ofweeks." Dabruzzi nodded agreeably. "We expected that, General. The liquefaction that burned Sergeant King is a textbook example of how geothermal naquadah forms."
"Nothing textbook about the injuries," said Jack, somewhat irritably.
The volcanologist looked at him squarely. "Colonel, Air Force Academy textbooks teach men how to kill and maim thousands. Volcanoes aren't malevolent."
There was a short, embarrassed silence. Carter did a little shuffle in her seat, while Daniel cleared his throat. Hammond said, "The lake, Doctor?"
Dabruzzi's gaze shifted from Jack to Hammond. "The level of Frying Pan Lake rose alarmingly last night. That, and the forecast blizzard, is why we'd decided to leave today. We were installing the last sensor when an unusually shallow quake triggered the liquefaction."
"Unusual?" said Carter.
"It felt almost magmatic."
"Which means?" Hammond prompted.
"The volcano could be on short fuse." Dabruzzi rubbed his eyes. "Thing is," he added, "I can't tell what's going on unless I get the information the sensors are feeding into my laptop. And it's back at the camp. If we wait until after the dam breaks, the flood will take everything in its path. The campsite, my laptop - and the rock samples that indicate this moon may prove to have the richest source of naquadah we've ever found." He sat back and folded his arms.
Slick move. Hammond's face lit and Carter looked like she'd been given an early Christmas present. "Sir, I - " she began.