Alliances

by Stargate

  Oblivious, Kinsey continued. “General Hammond, this hearing has been convened in order to—”

  To hell with Suck it up, Jack. O’Neill leaned forward, fists clenched on the table. “Hearing? Investigation? What crap are you trying to pull this time, Kinsey? Since when does a politician—” He spat the word like it was poison, ignoring Hammond’s thrumming alarm beside him. “—investigate the actions of a sanctioned military operation? Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’re not Chairman of the Congressional Oversight Committee any more. You don’t—”

  Belweather’s hand slapped the table. “That’s enough, Colonel O’Neill! Previous service to this nation does not give you permission to—”

  He turned to the Admiral. “Due respect, sir, you’ve been Chairman of the Joint Chiefs for less than three months. I’ve been dealing with Kinsey for over two years. Whatever he says he wants to achieve from this hearing, you can bet your last little rowboat what he’s really after is control of the SGC. And the last time he came within a whisker of that we were nearly wiped out by Apophis. I don’t know what crap he’s been spewing into your ear, or the President’s ear for that matter, but you cannot give it a moment’s credence. Put the safety of this country—this planet—into that man’s hands and we might as well surrender to the Goa’uld right now.”

  Silence, explosive with repressed emotion. Davis’s eyes were just about popped right out of his head. The other military reps—two Army colonels and a Marine major—stared at their folded hands as though their lives depended on the view. The civilian committee member was clearly owned by Kinsey; his beady gaze was stuck to the senator’s face as though glued there.

  “General Hammond,” said the admiral, eyes slitted in warning, “I suggest you control your subordinate. This is the wrong place and the wrong time for an—interesting—career to end.”

  Kinsey was smiling again. “And the President wonders why I call into question Colonel O’Neill’s fitness for duty.”

  Belweather’s narrow gaze swung towards him. “We all wonder, Senator. Only a fool complains if his own rough handling of a gun results in a self-inflicted wound. And you don’t strike me as a fool.”

  Under cover of Kinsey’s sharp response, Hammond leaned close. “Jack… ”

  “Yes, sir,” O’Neill muttered. “Sorry, sir.”

  His guts were so tight YoYo Ma could’ve used them to re-string his cello. He took a deep breath. Let it out. Across the table, Major Davis risked a tiny smile. Stupidly, it made him feel better. He turned to Belweather.

  “I apologize, Admiral. That was uncalled for.”

  Belweather nodded. “It was. Let me make one thing abundantly clear to you, Colonel: attachment to an important, top-secret project does not make you invisible or protect you from the consequences of your actions. You are as answerable for your conduct as anyone in this room. And no impressive tally of war wounds or unlikely victories snatched from the jaws of defeat will ever change that. Not while I’m the Chairman. Is that understood, Colonel?”

  Looked like Belweather’s reputation was right. If he didn’t dial it down, he was going to do more harm here than good. And George Hammond deserved better of him. O’Neill nodded. “Yes, sir. Sir, if I may speak candidly?”

  Belweather snorted. “You’ve been circumspect to this point, Colonel?”

  “No, sir. I’ve been tactless.” Releasing another deep breath, he met the admiral’s frowning gaze. “Sir, whatever misgivings or disappointments you may have with regards to the Eurondan mission I want to make it absolutely clear that General Hammond bears no responsibility for its negative outcome. I—”

  “Colonel O’Neill!” roared Hammond. “We have already had this conversation!”

  He shifted in his chair to face Hammond’s wrath. “Yes, General, I know. But all due respect, you’re wrong. It was my call and I made it. And I’m not going to sit idly by while Kinsey uses my failure to nail your career to his mast. I will not—”

  “Speak another word until I give you leave to open your mouth!” thundered Kinsey. On his feet now, all fire and brimstone. Moses in a three-thousand dollar suit. Fists planted on the conference table he leaned forward, alight with fury. “You are on my turf here, Colonel, and you will play by my rules. If you don’t I have the President’s full authority to punish you as I see fit and if you don’t believe me I suggest you find a phone and ask him. Is that clear? You have permission to answer.”

  Permission? O’Neill couldn’t trust himself to speak. God, he never should’ve come. He should’ve lied, told Hammond he had the 24-hour flu. Washington. Politics. He’d rather face a horde of screaming Jaffa with a worn-out slingshot, any day. He’d rather face Apophis. He didn’t belong in this human jungle. He was a soldier. A warrior. Bloodshed was ugly, but at least it was honest. Simple. Kill or be killed. This was a quagmire, where friends were enemies and enemies never fought fair…

  “Well, Colonel?” Kinsey demanded. “Have I made myself clear?”

  O’Neill nodded. “Perfectly, Senator.”

  Beside him, Hammond fractionally relaxed. Fresh guilt stabbed. Damn. The last thing he wanted was to make George’s difficult life more difficult. He had to keep a lid on things, no matter what provocation Kinsey used.

  He was career Special Forces. He could do that.

  “Good,” said Kinsey. He straightened, but stayed standing, lording it over the rest of them. “Your effrontery, O’Neill, has expanded beyond sane comprehension. Just because you’ve had one or two serendipitous victories over a godless alien foe you seem to think you’re invincible and beyond reproach. Somehow you’ve managed to hoodwink good men into turning blind eyes to your mistakes, your missteps and your military arrogance. Might makes right, that’s your motto. You think that because you hold a gun you hold the rest of us hostage to your narrow understanding of the world. Well, Colonel, I’m here to tell you you’re very wrong. You’re not invincible or immune from censure and this administration will not be bullied by a man who looks upon orders as mere inconveniences!”

  “Senator Kinsey, I really must protest!” said Hammond, firing up. “It’s no secret you and Colonel O’Neill don’t see eye to eye on some issues but—”

  “Some issues?” Kinsey laughed. “General, we don’t see eye to eye on anything. And that is because Colonel O’Neill’s vision is skewed. When he looks in a mirror he sees a man without a master. A man answerable to no-one.”

  “He is answerable to me!”

  Kinsey smiled. “I know.”

  It was a threat, and everyone in the room heard it. Hammond’s chin lifted. “Senator, you’re a busy man and so am I. Admiral Belweather is even busier. Why don’t you just get to the point?”

  “Certainly,” said Kinsey. “Put at its simplest, the President of these United States, your Commander-in-Chief, General, has tasked me to uncover the truth of SG-1’s mission to the planet Euronda. Colonel O’Neill, are you prepared, here and now, to answer for your actions?”

  Admiral Belweather cleared his throat. “Senator Kinsey, this is an enquiry, not a court martial. You might consider moderating your approach.”

  “And you, Admiral, might consider recalling you’re here by invitation,” retorted Kinsey. “It would be unfortunate if I felt compelled to rescind it. Colonel O’Neill, you haven’t answered my question.”

  O’Neill stared at the senator, abruptly off-balance. What the hell was going on here? Since when did Kinsey have this kind of influence? He’d been discredited after the near-miss with Apophis. Had lost some serious face. Something had happened since then. Something bad. While SG-1 was off saving the planet—again—someone had redecorated the corridors of power. Repainted them in Kinsey’s colors. He glanced at Hammond, who nodded. Let’s just get this over with, Jack.

  Yes. Get it over with, get out of here, and find out who’d slipped Kinsey the keys to the castle. Then figure out a way to get them back before the bastard brought it crashing down round all their ears.

 
He made himself meet Kinsey’s challenging glare. “I’m always ready to answer for my actions, Senator.”

  Kinsey sneered. “We’ll see. Colonel O’Neill, having read your mission report there’s really only one question to be asked.”

  “Then ask it already. Senator.”

  “The President wants to know—as do I—why one of the most potentially valuable allies in our war against the Goa’uld was not only rebuffed, but destroyed. Why their leader, with his incredible wealth of knowledge, was denied sanctuary from his enemies. Was in effect murdered by—”

  The small stuffy Pentagon meeting room turned scarlet. Dimly aware of voices raised in protest, of Hammond’s hand reaching for his arm, in vain, O’Neill surged to his feet. The chair crashed onto its side behind him.

  “It wasn’t murder, you sanctimonious sonofabitch! I warned him not to follow us through the ’gate. He knew about the iris. He didn’t listen. He killed himself. I did not murder him!”

  Kinsey’s face was alight with glee, his eyes on fire with malice. “No? Then if not murder, what? An execution perhaps? Yes! That role suits you to perfection, doesn’t it? The one and only Jack O’Neill: self-appointed judge—jury—and executioner!”

  “Screw you, Kinsey! It was self-defence. I couldn’t let him come through to the SGC. He was dangerous, he—”

  “Dangerous? To us?” said Kinsey, pacing. “You mean he had a plan to destroy Earth? I don’t recall reading that in your report, Colonel! As I recall he wanted to help Earth, he wanted to give us weapons and technology that would aid us in our fight against the Goa’uld! That is your purpose, Colonel, is it not? To procure weapons and technology that will help us defeat the barbarians at the gate you opened, who want to make us their slaves?”

  God. Was the man really that much of an idiot? “If you read my report, Kinsey, you know why he was dangerous! He was a monster. His father started that war and when his father died he kept it going, he slaughtered thousands, all in the name of white pride, he—”

  “Thank you, Colonel,” said Kinsey. He stopped pacing and rested his hands on the back of his chair. “I know what you claim were the circumstances on Euronda.”

  “What I claim?” Breathing heavily, O’Neill took a step back. It was that, or hit the bastard.

  “Well, we’ve only got your word for it, haven’t we?” said Kinsey, suavely.

  “Fine! If you don’t believe me, believe the rest of my team. Read their reports!”

  Kinsey waved a negligent hand. “I have. I place no more faith in their version of events than I do in yours, O’Neill. SG-1 is a cult of personality. You’ve made sure of that. I have no doubt they’d lie for you at the drop of the proverbial hat. But if they are telling the truth, then in my estimation Major Carter, Dr. Jackson and the alien are as culpable as you over the loss of the Eurondan technology.”

  “Major Carter was following my orders. And Jackson? Kinsey, if Daniel hadn’t opened his big mouth and argued with me till he was blue in the face we’d be in bed with Alar right this minute—and then God help us!”

  “Yes,” said Kinsey, unblinking. “Jackson’s actions border on treason. And you showed yet more deplorable judgement in allowing yourself to be swayed by his namby-pamby, hand-wringing, soft-soaping, limp-wristed liberalism! The moment he challenged your authority he should’ve been ordered back to the SGC and his privileged status revoked. And then you should’ve finished negotiating the treaty with the Eurondans. As you were ordered to do. Failing that, you should’ve brought Alar back to Earth as a refugee and guest in good standing and allowed the elected officials of this brave nation to determine whether or not he was a fit individual with whom we could conduct business. But no. You took that decision upon yourself, O’Neill, just like you always do.”

  “You mean like I did when you closed down the SGC just as Apophis and his motherships were getting ready to burn this planet to cinders? Is that the deplorable judgement you’re talking about?”

  Kinsey snarled. “Must I remind you we wouldn’t be having this conversation if you and your precious Dr. Jackson had left well enough alone? How many good men and women preceded President Alar into the grave, Colonel, all because of your Stargate? And how many more will follow them?”

  O’Neill stared, incredulous. “God Almighty, Kinsey, could you be any more melodramatic? You stupid—”

  Kinsey’s face flooded crimson. “Do not take that tone with me, Colonel, or blaspheme in my presence!”

  O’Neill moved round the table, past all the staring stone-silent witnesses, not caring he and Kinsey weren’t alone. He was glad others were here to see the truth of the man stripped bare. His hands were fisted by his sides, aching to punch and pummel, to reduce the politician to pulp. He stopped in front of Kinsey and let the senator see that.

  “You’re a lying manipulative bastard, Kinsey. You know damned well—”

  “There is only one liar in this room, Colonel, and I am looking at him!” said Kinsey, triumphant. “Your official report is a complete fabrication. You screwed up the mission to Euronda, you cost us the weapons and technology that would have given us victory over the Goa’uld and you’re attempting to cover up the fact you killed an innocent man who could’ve born witness against you!”

  “That is not true!”

  Kinsey’s eyebrows lifted. “No? So you’re saying you’re not a liar?”

  “That’s exactly what I’m saying!”

  “Then you convict yourself with your own words. Because when it comes to falsifying official military records you’re hardly a virgin. Are you? That first mission to Abydos…”

  How fast could a heart beat before it burst? Or shattered its cage of ribs to bony shards? O’Neill felt as though he were standing somewhere outside his own body. Time slowed, thickened, like molasses on a winter morning. “The first Abydos mission is irrelevant.”

  “On the contrary!” Kinsey spat. “What we’re seeing is a pattern of behavior that speaks to your total lack of fitness for holding command. You lied about detonating the bomb on Abydos and because you didn’t follow orders Apophis came here!”

  “I had good reason for what I did, innocent people were going to die, I made a judgement call to—”

  “Your judgement, Colonel, was suspect to say the least! When you made that decision to disobey orders you were suffering from a suicidal depression brought on by guilt over the death of your son, a tragedy for which—”

  “You leave my son out of this!”

  “For which you were directly responsible—” continued Kinsey, remorseless. “You killed him as surely as if you pulled the trigger yourself and I for one deplore—”

  Confusion. Voices shouting, hands grabbing, pulling him away from the man he had pinned to the wall. Kinsey. Pale eyes staring, fingers ineffectually tugging at the forearm threatening his throat, patrician face suffused with outraged fury. A desperate voice in his ear. “Back away, Colonel, please, please, for God’s sake back away!”

  It was Davis. O’Neill lowered his arm. Let himself be hustled backwards across the small conference room to hit the wall beside its curtained window. When he looked up Kinsey was in a chair, shaken, dumbstruck, his breathing irregular, his immaculate hair in disarray. He looked anything but suave. Hammond and Belweather flanked him, the other three military types stood to one side, shock showing through their rigorous façade of neutrality. Kinsey’s civilian aide gibbered in a corner.

  Davis’s fingers were still anchored to his shoulder. “Colonel…”

  “I’m all right,” he said. His voice sounded very strange. “Let me go.”

  Davis hesitated, then loosened his grip. “Sir—”

  Kinsey lurched to his feet, one shaking finger pointed. “I want O’Neill arrested. I want him court martialed. I want him in prison for the rest of his life!”

  Admiral Belweather stepped closer. “Senator, you’re upset. I suggest we adjourn this meeting until further notice. You have my word, Colonel O’Neill will be dealt
with.”

  Something in Belweather’s measured, deliberate tones breached Kinsey’s fury, caught his attention and dragged his gaze sideways. “Your word, Admiral? I suppose I can trust it, can I?”

  Belweather’s lips thinned. “If it’s good enough for the President, Senator, I assume it’s good enough for you.”

  “Yes. Well.” Kinsey tugged his jacket straight. Slicked his hair into place and became, once more, the consummate, urbane politician. “I’ll expect a full report of action taken in this matter. Sooner rather than later, Admiral.”

  “Certainly, Senator,” said Belweather. “My office will be in touch the moment a decision has been reached.”

  Kinsey’s head came up. “No, Admiral. You will be in touch. By close of business today, with the details of Colonel O’Neill’s preliminary hearing, or the first phone-call you receive tomorrow morning will be from the President, demanding your resignation as Chairman of the Joint Chiefs.”

  Belweather’s expression didn’t change. “Rest assured, Senator, you’ll be kept apprised of developments. Now I’m sure you have a busy schedule lined up for the rest of the day. Please don’t allow us to detain you any longer.”

  With a last, burning look Kinsey departed, his aide faithful at his heels. In his wake, silence.

  General Hammond heaved a sigh. “Admiral, I—”

  Belweather’s hand came up. “Major Davis. Escort Colonel O’Neill to the staff room and remain with him there until you’re relieved.”

  David nodded. “Yes, sir.”

  “Colonel O’Neill—”

  O’Neill snapped to attention. “Sir.”

  “You will accompany Major Davis to the tea room and remain there until further notice. If you attempt to reinterpret these orders you will regret it. Understood?”

  He couldn’t bring himself to look at Hammond. “Yes, Admiral. Understood.”

  “Good. You’re dismissed.”

  Davis opened the door for him, and closed it again once they were outside the conference room. The Pentagon corridor they stood in was clean and empty. Davis nodded. “Staff room’s this way, Colonel.”