A Matter of Honor

by Stargate

  "Before we go," General Hammond said, placing his fists firmly on the conference table, "there is one avenue of investigation we have yet to cover."

  Opposite him, Crawford shook his head. "General, you're really pushing your luck. Councilor Damaris has been very patient, and I think when Senator Kinsey hears of this he will-"

  "I'm sure the Senator will understand." And that was a lie as big as the Lone Star State. In fact, he hoped that Kinsey wouldn't understand at all. He bared his teeth in lieu of a smile. "With your cooperation, Ambassador, it won't take long."

  Suspicion radiated across the table in waves. "My cooperation?"

  Hammond turned and nodded to the man standing discreetly at his left shoulder. "If you'll permit Major Barker to search through your briefcase and laptop-"

  "I will not!" Crawford jumped to his feet like a target in a shooting gallery. "How dare you imply that I have any involvement with this sordid affair?" Red-faced, he was spluttering with anger. "You've gone so far over the line I don't even know where to begin with my report to Kinsey. You can kiss goodbye to that cozy office of yours because-"

  "Mr. Ambassador," Hammond cut in. "If you have nothing to hide then you have nothing to fear."

  "Of course I have nothing to hide!" He turned to Councilor Damaris, as if for confirmation. "This is ridiculous!"

  With a slight nod, the councilor also stood. "We have no reason to suspect Ambassador Crawford of this crime, General. And on Kinahhi we would certainly never allow a person of your status to level such an accusation. However -" her glance moved and came to rest on Crawford - "since we have no doubt of your innocence, Ambassador, perhaps it would be expeditious to allow the search to take place?"

  Crawford's feathers were still ruffled, but the councilor's assurance seemed to carry some weight. "Very well," he said stiffly, addressing his words to Damaris. "As you say, Councilor, it will hurry things along." He turned back to Hammond. "Frankly, the sooner the SGC gets its nose out of Kinahhi the better for us all."

  Hammond felt his own hackles rise. "I can assure you, Ambassador, that for as long as you are using the Stargate, the SGC will be involved with this and every other world we encounter."

  A slight, dangerous smirk toyed with Crawford's mouth. "We'll see, won't we?" And somehow, it sounded like a threat.

  The Kinahhi Council Chamber was hardly the place for that discussion, however, so Hammond swallowed his anger, filed his suspicion, and turned back to Barker. "Take a look at Ambassador Crawford's belongings, Major. And be thorough."

  "Yes sir," came the enthusiastic response; the ambassador hadn't made himself any friends at Stargate Command.

  "You're wasting your time," Crawford said, pushing his briefcase and laptop across the table. "You'll find nothing there. In fact, you're just doing my job for me."

  "And what job is that?"

  He didn't even try to deny it. "Cleaning house at the SGC, General."

  Hammond made no reply, returning his attention to Barker, who had emptied all the papers from Crawford's briefcase and was starting to take apart the lining. He just hoped Jack's suspicions about Crawford were right and that he'd find the smoking gun. Because, without it, things were looking pretty damn bleak for SG1.

  Things were looking pretty damn bleak for SG-1.

  "Fire in the hole!" Jack hurled one of his two remaining grenades and dived for cover. A barrage of enemy fire burst overhead as the explosion shook the entire building. He held his breath, waiting for the roof to give way and send them plunging down. It didn't, and he almost regretted it. It would have been one way out of their current mess. As it was, they were surrounded on three sides by angry Jaffa. Reinforcements had come, and come with a vengeance. The three of them were crouched in the bombed-out remains of a storeroom, barely keeping the enemy at bay. And unless they did something crazy, it would only be a matter of minutes before they were overrun.

  "Sir!" Carter yelled, right on cue. "I've got an idea!"

  "Do it!" he shouted back. Whatever the hell it was, it had to be better than the alternative.

  "You'll have to cover me."

  "You got it. Daniel, take Carter's position."

  Daniel moved in a low crouch. "I'm running out of ammo," he warned. "I'm gonna have to start throwing stones soon!"

  "Whatever it takes." He risked a glance at Carter. There was some life back in her face, at least. Ironic, really, since death was stalking closer with every minute. "Ready?"

  She nodded.

  "This gonna work?"

  "Maybe."

  Good enough. It was Carter, after all. She'd make it work. "On my mark."

  "Yes, sir."

  A Jaffa showed himself, firing twice before diving back into cover. The blast spat shrapnel up into Jack's face. "Gah!" He flinched away and pressed the back of one hand against his stinging cheek. It came away bloody. "Whatever you're gonna do, Carter, do it fast!" Returning fire he started the countdown. "Three, two, one. Mark!"

  As Carter vaulted over the top, Jack threw his last grenade. The explosion knocked her sideways, but she was up on her feet and racing away from the Jaffa within moments. Two of them made her instantly, but Jack took them out with a couple of rapid shots. Then he stood up, presenting a better target. "Hey! Losers! This way."

  "Damn it, Jack!" Daniel yanked on his tac vest. "Get down!"

  He did, just as a wave of enemy fire exploded overhead. When he peeked over the wall again, Carter was gone.

  Sprinting across theroof, Samkepther eyes on theprize. Aplasma bolt hissed past her face, its static heat scorching her cheek. Ignoring it, she ran on. Almost there. The prize was half a death glider tipped up on its back end with its staff cannons aimed skyward. Crucially, they looked intact.

  Skidding in beneath the ship's shattered wing, she flung herself flat on the ground and waited. She wasn't taking any fire. The colonel must have taken out the men on her position. She pushed herself to her feet, took a quick look at the smashed canopy of the ship, and started climbing up the outside. Her injured shoulder protested, but she ruthlessly ignored its weakness. Scrambling above the canopy, she wedged the heel of her boot against its edge. A hefty kick sent it screeching open, falling backwards and crashing to the ground. So far, so good.

  Boots first, Sam lowered herself into the cockpit and jammed her feet against the back of the pilot's chair. She hit the ignition and hoped for the best.

  The best didn't happen; it was dead as a Dodo. "Damn it!" She'd have to resort to plan B. Pulling up every scrap of information she'd ever read about the X301, Sam searched the cockpit. The staff can ons mounted on the ship were removable and self contained; she'd once seen one dissected in Area 51 during the retro-fit of Apophis's death glider. They had their own supply of liquid naquadah and a docking port designed for swift exchange by repair crews. Question was, where was the release mechanism?

  Instinct told her there had to be a manual release. It wouldn't make sense to leave valuable weapons tied to a dead machine. Her fingers ranged across the controls, down the side of the seat, searching for a lever or a handle. Anything that might-

  KABOOM.!

  The ground detonated with a bone-jarring impact. Chunks of stone exploded up into the air and the concussion knocked her out of the cockpit. A death glider shrieked overhead.

  "Carter!" O'Neill's voice barked out of her radio. "Carter, come in."

  Feet scrabbling for a hold, she dragged herself back up the side of the glider and toggled her radio. "I'm okay, sir."

  "Carter, get out of there!" His voice was taut, the rattle of gunfire almost drowning it out. "We can't hold them. Get back to the `gate and-"

  Another screaming pass of the glider cut off his words. Explosions strafed the landing platform, rocking the wrecked glider until it threatened to topple over entirely. Clinging on with one hand she yelled into her radio. "Colonel? Daniel? Come in!"

  There was no answer. As the glider soared up into the sky, she realized the sound of fighting had sto
pped.

  "No." She slipped her fingers over the lip of the wing and pulled herself up far enough to peer over the top. She had a good view of her worst fear. Their position had been overrun. Daniel was on his knees, hands on his head and a staff weapon aimed at his back. The colonel was face down on the ground, a booted foot on his neck as his arms were roughly pinned behind him. He was still struggling. Sam felt sick; she knew what awaited them. And so did they. The colonel might have destroyed the gravity wall, but cruelty was imaginative and could be practiced anywhere. "Not this time," she promised them. "Not this time."

  Sliding back down to the cockpit, her mind emptied of every thing but the need to save her team. She saw nothing extraneous, focusing entirely on the glider and her memories of the X-301. The mental map in her mind guided her hands as they skimmed across the console and up to the overhead controls. To the right, and down. A small black lever you hooked with a finger. Heart hammering, she slipped her hand over the damaged upper controls until- There it was! Holding her breath, she slid her index finger under the lever and pulled back. A quiet hiss and click were her reward. Yes! Adrenaline pumped hard through her chest as she slithered down the glider to land on the ground with a soft thud.

  Pulling her zat from her waistband, she activated it and ducked down low enough to be able to see under the glider's broken wing. The Jaffa were milling around their captives, watching the colonel being dragged to his knees and thrown toward Daniel. He wasn't struggling anymore, but there was defiance in his posture. Good. Hold that thought, sir.

  The staff cannon was mounted beneath the wing, which meant she'd be in full view when she removed it from the undercarriage. She figured she'd have thirty seconds, pushing a minute, to get it off the glider, aimed and firing. You could do a lot in thirty seconds. In thirty seconds a single drop of acid could bum right through your eye and-

  You just keep going.

  Orders were barked on the far side of the platform. A search party would be sent to find her any minute. Sucking in a deep breath she slid under the glider and out into the open. Thirty seconds and counting. Her spine prickled, whispering of enemy eyes on her back as she reached for the staff cannon. She ignored the sensation and just kept going.

  Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven...

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  his is outrageous!" Crawford was beginning to sound like a broken record as he stared in disbelief at his laptop, lying in pieces on the table.

  Hammond wasn't buying it. Arms folded, he watched the young man. "This isn't the first time we've had rogue operatives stealing alien technology." He directed the words at both Crawford and the Kinahhi councilor. "Who are you working for, Crawford? The NID or someone else?"

  Crawford's dark eyes blazed. "I didn't do this, General."

  Disturbingly, Hammond almost believed him; Crawford was either one hell of an actor or there was truth in his words. But the evidence was incontrovertible. "The blueprints are right here, Ambassador. Inside the lid of your laptop."

  "It's a set-up." Crawford glanced over at Councilor Damaris, whose face wore a mask more impenetrable than ever. "You believe me, Councilor."

  Damaris inclined her head slightly. "I have no reason to suspect you, and yet here is the evidence before me."

  A dark flush stole over Crawford's face. "You can't-"

  She stalled him with a curt hand gesture and rose to her feet. When she spoke, her attention was fixed on Hammond. He met her cool gaze with equanimity. "Given that this crime has been committed under Kinahhi jurisdiction, General, I invoke the right under paragraph 3.4.1 of the treaty to detain Mr. Crawford here for-"

  "You can't do that!" Crawford yelped, suddenly panicking. "General, this is wrong! I didn't do this. It was O'Neill! He had the plans. He-"

  "Silence!" Damaris's voice was sharp as broken glass. Just like her eyes. "You have no choice, General Hammond, but to acquiesce to the terms of our treaty." Then she turned her gaze on Crawford, meeting his appalled expression with one that gave little away. "Justice will be served, Ambassador," she assured him after a moment. "Have no fear of that."

  Hammond shifted his weight from foot to foot, nervous and not entirely sure why. This should be a victory, made all the sweeter by Crawford being the architect of his own destruction. And yet, as duplicitous as Crawford was, the idea of leaving him to the mercy of these people jarred with everything Hammond knew to be right. "Councilor, I would like to return to the SGC with the evidence and with Mr. Crawford. We can do tests on the documents to determine who has touched them and who-"

  "This matter is nonnegotiable," Damaris informed him, giving a brief nod to two of the soldiers at attention around the room. "Mr. Crawford will be held here while we investigate. We too have our methods of ascertaining the truth, General."

  "Councilor, I-"

  "She's right, General," Crawford broke in, stepping back from the table, hands raised, as the soldiers came to take him away. "You don't have a choice." The panic had receded, replaced instead with a cold anger. "But remember this; when the truth comes out, you and SG-1 will be buried so deep you'll never see daylight again."

  One of the men placed a hand on Crawford's arm, coaxing him away. He shook it off angrily, turning on his heel and stalking toward the door. The two Kinahhi soldiers fell in behind him, leaving Hammond with the distinct impression he'd just made matters a hell of a lot worse.

  The staff weapon dug painfully into Daniel's back, a nice counterpoint to the dull throb inside his skull. The head-wound was courtesy of a hefty blow at close range; they might not have the accuracy and fire power of a P90, but when the bullets ran out, the staff had all the advantages.

  Jack knelt next to him, bristling with insolence and sporting a large collection of scrapes and bruises to the side of his face. He looked drawn and tense. "You okay?" Daniel whispered.

  "Peachy," came the dry reply. "You?"

  "Looking forward to getting out of-"

  "Silence!" Another swift jab in his back. Daniel made no comment, just glanced over at Jack. His roll of the eyes was eloquent.

  Turning away, Daniel glanced around the rest of the platform. Sam was out there, hopefully alive and well and planning a rescue. And Teal'c was out there too, although the return of one of the gliders had ominous implications. What could a tel'tak do against a couple of heavily armed fighters anyway?

  "On your feet!" An abrupt yank on his arm dragged him to his feet, his bruised hip sending needles of pain down through his thigh.

  Grimacing, he struggled for balance as Jack was hauled upright at his side. "Our rooms ready so soon?"

  The Jaffa made no answer, simply pushed them into motion. Daniel's stiff hip wouldn't cooperate, and he staggered, falling down to one knee as he... saw something. On the far side of the landing platform, he saw movement. A flash of blond hair behind the rusted remains of a death glider. Sam! Afraid of betraying her position, Daniel immediately looked away. But a spark of hope ignited as he was dragged back to his feet. His hands were unbound, resting compliantly on top of his head, and he relished their freedom. If Sam was planning something, then he'd be ready.

  There was no way to warn Jack, however, without raising suspicions. So he slowed his pace as far as possible, exaggerating a limp and trying to keep half an eye on Sam's position. She'd have to hurry. Ahead of them a set of double doors stood open, leading to a dark flight of stairs. Once they were inside, rescue would be much more difficult. He found himself counting his paces as they approached the doors, waiting and waiting. Hoping.

  Something flickered in the corner of his eye. With an instinct born of seven years in the field, Daniel flung himself at Jack. "Get down!" They hit the ground just as a massive plasma blot came blazing overhead, taking out five Jaffa in one fell swoop. Chaos erupted as another explosion sent Jaffa tumbling in bloody agony. A third hit blasted shrapnel high into the air. Orders were barked and a pair ofrough hands grabbed at his arm. Letting himself be pulled to his feet, Daniel used the upw
ard momentum to fuel his fist, swinging hard against the Jaffa's jaw and sending him crumpling to the ground. Yanking the staff weapon from his limp hands, Daniel swung around in a swift three-sixty as Jack scrambled to his feet.

  "Nice," O'Neill commented, glancing down at the fallen Jaffa. "Teal'c teach you that?"

  "He-"

  Fire rained from the sky. The glider was back, roaring overhead, guns blazing. The roof shuddered with each detonation, flinging Daniel back to his knees. But this time it kept on shuddering.

  "Oh crap!" Jack yelled. In front of them a huge section of the roof began to fold in on itself. Three Jaffa fell howling into the chasm. And Jack kept shouting, seizing Daniel by his vest, "Get back. Daniel, move!"

  Cracks raced across the roof, filigreeing the surface under his feet like the glaze on old pottery. He lurched backwards, still at Jack's side, heading toward the edge of the roof. But they couldn't move fast enough. The network of cracking stone was all around them. Everywhere. "The whole thing's gonna go!"

  The glider came in for a second pass, cannon blasts battering the weakened structure. The chasm widened into a huge, black pit as more and more of the roof slid toward the center and fell. Backing up, they were almost at the low parapet that surrounded the roof. There was no where else to go. And then, with a crack, the floor listed steeply. Daniel slipped, his right knee hitting the ground hard. Shards of pain jolted up his leg as he fumbled for purchase on the gritty, undulating ground.

  "Daniel!" Jack had his wrist, fingers digging deep. "Grab hold!" He did, clutching at the fabric of his friend's jacket. Bracing himself against the parapet, Jack hauled Daniel to safety. Barely. He'd scarcely grabbed hold of the wall when the roof beneath them collapsed with a deafening roar.

  "Hang on!" Jack yelled, flinging both arms over the quaking wall.