Placed against the slots on the control panel, the stone attached itself like a magnet. Jack was rewarded with a subsonic thrumming that permeated his bones and sent a peculiar tingling sensation through his knees. Not knowing if that was a good thing or a bad thing, he decided it didn't much matter.
“Here.” Daniel twisted around and handed him a second stone.
Attaching it to the panel achieved nothing, so Jack twisted it slightly. Half one side of the pod turned translucent with a HUD insert on which a bunch of Asgard diagrams rapidly flashed across the screen, like the thing was trying to reset itself. Hopefully it would skip through the engineering primer for Beliskner class escape pods and get straight down to business.
A slight adjustment of the stone and much of the hull turned transparent. He knew that because through the hull he could see a pair of boots, but on the HUD the same boots appeared upside down. The system's computer was compensating for the inverted perspective. Nice, but not helpful at the moment.
“Why don't you try—?”
Jack shifted the stone forward half an inch, and the pod abruptly moved in a vertical direction—straight down into the flatbed. The boots vanished; their owner either thrown off or he'd jumped clear as the pod's force field rapidly disintegrated the base of the truck and axle in quick succession, followed soon after by the road. The inertial dampeners must have kicked in as well, because the there was no sense of motion whatsoever.
Naturally, the truck had come to a grinding halt. Jack knew that because the view through the screen offered a surprisingly well-lit but slightly fuzzy image of what remained of rubber tires oozing across a rapidly melting asphalt and concrete road, and soldiers scattering in every direction.
“Jack!”
“Whoops.” He flashed Daniel an unrepentant grin. “Had the silly thing in reverse.”
In all fairness, it wasn't so much reverse as their currently inverted situation. He couldn't hear the racket outside, but he reckoned that, by now, they were making enough noise to alert a fair percentage of the population of New Mexico.
“Jack.”
“Not now, Daniel.” He rotated the stone one hundred and eighty degrees. They both tumbled backwards, crashing into each other—which sent a jolt of agony through Jack's chest, as the craft also rotated one hundred and eighty degrees.
Maybe the inertial dampeners needed work.
Their vision promptly vanished, presumably because the pod had taken off in a vertical direction—this time, up—and carried the canvas covers away with it, which blocked the viewers. Either that or he'd bumped the second stone.
“Jack, I think we're airborne. Can you get us cloaked—aside from the canvas hood flapping around the place, I mean?”
“If you get your elbow out of my mouth.” Yeah, it was definitely the stone, because a slight twist to the left and the HUD cleared to reveal stars.
“Ah... Jack... have you noticed the stars aren't twinkling?”
He glanced up. Okay, so they'd left the scene of the heist at Mach Several and were approaching orbit, which meant the inertial dampeners worked just fine. Maybe the artificial gravity needed tweaking, since Daniel's elbow was now digging into his shoulder.
“And isn't the moon getting kind of close?”
“Daniel, who's driving this thing?”
He ignored the mumbled reply 'Duck Dodgers', conceding he'd brought that one on himself. At least they weren't staring at Jupiter. Which reminded him. “We should probably let Teal'c know we're coming.”
“How we going to do that without breaking Sam's cover?”
“Got the cloak working...I think. We'll park behind the jumper and wait until she calls.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Teal'c was intrigued by the knowledge that events long dismissed by the Air Force and much of the Tau'ri population as fictional, were indeed entirely factual.
The mythology that had evolved as a consequence of the crashed Asgard escape pods had been but one of many such beliefs for which certain members of the Tau'ri had developed a deep, indeed, almost spiritual fondness. The crash sites near Roswell had been enshrined by some, with rituals that involved prayer, the giving of flowers, meditation, and a memorial plaque, which read: We don't know who they were. We don't know why they came. We only know they changed our view of the universe.
Despite their misplaced sympathies for what was now evidently Loki's clones, Teal'c empathized with the deeper need of the Tau'ri to understand the truth of their place in the universe. Like the Jaffa, they, too, desired to invest their faith in something greater than themselves, naive and blind in their desperation. And seemingly willing to follow any path in their search for enlightenment. To his dismay, even Jaffa as astute and powerful as Gerak and the Sodan leader, Haikon, had foolishly chosen to follow the path of Origin—until learning the true nature of the Ori.
While their initial willingness to exchange one set of false gods for another disturbed Teal'c, a part of him understood the reason. To a Jaffa, Ascension was the ultimate achievements, beyond their reach because of their enslavement to the Goa'uld. And yet freedom from those false gods had brought only dissent among the Jaffa, and Ascension had proven to be flawed. The Ancients cared nothing for mortal beings, while the Ori preyed upon them. If the Sangraal could truly kill them, then their immortality was also a lie.
But one thing could not be taken from the hearts of all true Jaffa: their sense of honor. It was the same sense of honor that had driven some Tau'ri to enshrine the crash sites near Roswell.
Sadly, others were far less honorable, and viewed the recovery of the Asgard and their escape pods as an opportunity to gain wealth and power. It was that which Teal'c was now witnessing.
A military truck escorted by two jeeps carrying enlisted men had earlier driven several packing cases to what he immediately identified as Bomb Pit #1. Located less then one hundred and fifty feet from where he had stationed himself on the roof of the jumper, the bomb pit had been the site of constant activity throughout the day. The most recent had seen those crates loaded from the pit into a C-54 aircraft that had taxied to a stop nearby. Although Teal'c had been unable to hear the soldiers conversing, their bearing demonstrated a heightened level of tension and uncertainty.
According to several accounts, the crates were filled with the remainder of the wreckage acquired by Captain Cavitt and Major Marcel, and were bound for Washington DC and Fort Worth. Presumably certain military personnel aligning themselves with the civilian members of the nascent NID had had the contents diverted from this assigned destination.
A short while before Colonel Carter had reported from within the base hospital, three additional wooden packing cases had been trucked to an area just fifty feet from the end of the runway, close to where the jumper lay hidden.
It was no coincidence. Records would show that the commander of the base, Colonel William Blanchard, had supposedly gone on leave at this point in the day, however it would be later revealed that he had only left the base to investigate the Brazel crash site. Some accounts claimed that the alien bodies had been kept within Hangar P-3. Others insisted that the fumes given off by the bodies during the aborted autopsies had been so disturbing that before leaving the base, Blanchard ordered them removed to the far end of the main runway. They would then be loaded aboard the flight that Teal'c knew was scheduled to depart at 0200 hours the following morning.
What Teal'c was witnessing now gave credence to the latter scenario, based on the testimony of Sergeant Melvin Brown. The crates were not merely placed on the ground, but inside a hastily erected tent guarded by eight MPs. A short time later, an officer arrived in a jeep and, upon greeting the guards, said to the sergeant, “Come on, Brownie, let's have a look inside.”
“Nothing to see, sir, 'cept a couple of crates.”
Nevertheless the officer switched off the engine, climbed out of the jeep, stepped inside the tent and remained there for several minutes. Upon exiting, he said, “So, what's inside t
hem? UFO parts?”
To Teal'c's ears, Sergeant Brown's brief laugh sounded forced. “The General's furniture is all I know, sir.”
“Uh huh,” the officer replied. “And I suppose that other crate they were hammering a lid on when I left is his kid's bunk.”
“Guess so, sir. I hear tell Pappy's going to be flying it all out.”
“Pappy's had a right busy day.” The officer's gaze turned to the road immediately outside the base. “Lookie here. General Twining's must be moving his entire house with all that furniture coming in on a flatbed—holy cow, you see that?”
Even through the distorted light of Teal'c's night glasses, the pallor that enveloped the officer's face was evident. While the MPs turned to stare fearfully at the road, the officer withdrew his service pistol and leaped back into his jeep.
Carefully twisting around to see what had disturbed the soldiers, Teal'c noted a line of military vehicles had abruptly come to a halt on the far side of the barbed wire fence. The reason for their stopping was no doubt due to the fact that the Asgard escape pod was attempting to depart the flatbed by burrowing into the road. This had precipitated considerable commotion among the accompanying soldiers, who, calling out in terror, were now fleeing their vehicles.
Given the last discussion between O'Neill and Colonel Carter, it was evident O'Neill was experiencing some difficulty with the controls.
The pod abruptly rotated and lifted from the now destroyed flatbed covered with a tarpaulin that fell to earth as the pod accelerated at a velocity that indicated it would soon enter orbit.
This was not a scenario that had been suggested in the many versions of the Roswell incident, which left Teal'c to conclude that any attempt to restrict their impact on this time had now been abandoned.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
“You got it to drink, I hear.”
Cancer Man was followed by two orderlies carrying a large, straw-filled wooden crate. They wasted no time in collecting the dead clone, unceremoniously dumping it into the crate, and then leaving again with barely a glance at An.
“Good work, Lieutenant,” Cancer Man added to Sam. “If it starts talking to you, call me straight away. I want to interrogate it as soon as possible.”
Sam was well practiced in biting back responses to grossly stupid remarks, but she managed a barely civil, “Yes, sir.”
Lighting a cigarette, the agent strolled over to the side of the bed and stared down at An. “Ugly little critters, aren't they?”
An failed to react to the comment, however when Cancer Man blew cigarette smoke into his face, the Asgard's nostrils flared and he coughed several times.
That elicited a smirk from the agent. “Weak, too.”
Keeping a tight reign on her anger, Sam stood with her hands clasped together, hoping he wouldn't notice the edge of the radio protruding from her uniform. Now was not a good to time get herself captured.
An air raid siren went off in the distance. The door slammed open and an MP burst into the room just as a second air raid warning sounded nearby. “Sir! We're under attack from the... flying saucer space beings!” Further sounds of running feet and panicked shouts followed him into the room.
Barely glancing at Sam, Cancer Man spun around and rushed out of the room in a cloud of tobacco smoke. Sam immediately positioned herself so her back was to the door. Anyone glancing through the window would be unable to see her and An conversing. She withdrew her radio and spoke rapidly. “Sir, we're alone again, but possibly only for a few minutes.”
“Hey, Sam. We've got the pod,” Daniel replied.
An's response to that news was to sit further up in bed.
“Jack's having a little difficulty steering, and I'm not entirely certain we're cloaked.”
“Sir, did you use any Asgard weapons?”
“Just pranged one of their flatbeds is all,” O'Neill replied in a distracted voice.
That, at least, explained the panic now permeating the base.
“Right now, Carter, all I want to know is how we beam you both outta there. I can't figure out the controls on this thing.”
“Loki...” An trailed off and slumped back onto the bed. “My fault.”
Just what they needed, a morbidly depressed Asgard. Biting her lip to contain her impatience, Sam said to him, “Ah, yes... well, actually, our jumper hit your ship when it emerged into this space-time coordinate. We're very sorry about that, but if you can explain how the transport—”
“Then it was no accident,” An interrupted. “The chances of two craft emerging out of hyperspace in the same moment of time and space are infinitesimal.”
Sam had worked that out for herself a heartbeat after they'd collided with An's ship but she could worry about the implications of that, later. For now she needed An to act a little more Asgardy. “You can't blame yourself for Loki's actions.”
“But I am responsible for foolishly ignoring Loki's inexplicable absences.” He met her gaze. “Several days ago I discovered he had secretly developed four Asgard-human hybrids and grown them as clones.”
Shocked, Sam stared at him. That explained the unusual looking Asgard in the operating theatre, the one giving off toxic green gas.
“Having already become concerned I would discover his work, I fear Loki compounded his transgressions by doing something that is against our highest laws.”
“Which was...?”
An shook his head sorrowfully. “He transferred his consciousness into a clone, while still retaining his original body. Worse, he failed to complete this task correctly, and the clone then cloned itself five times. Loki damaged the transport device on my ship before he and his clones stole a several escape pods and fled. I followed.”
Still shaking his head in disbelief, An closed his eyes. “Such things no Asgard has done for a thousand years. They fired upon me. I had no choice. I could not allow them to land on this planet.”
The impact of what he was telling her was staggering. “You returned fire.”
He nodded. “Loki beamed out just before his escape pod exploded. I believe he attempted to beam the clones from their pods, but miscalculated and the fall killed all but one. I beamed the surviving clone aboard, but failed to collect Loki, who fired upon my ship. That's when I crashed.” An seemed to hunch down like a despairing child in the too large bed. “I am appalled by what has happened. In all the millennia we have been coming to Earth, no human has ever noticed us. We have been so very careful. The Council....” He sighed. “I will be punished, as I should be, for not paying more attention to Loki's activities. And now, it seems, we are also responsible for creating a rift in the timeline. Oh, Loki,” he mumbled. “What have you done?”
An wasn't acting at all like any Asgard that Sam had met. Then again, he'd had several days to contemplate Loki's malfeasance and his own error in not preventing the disaster. Now, dehydrated and very ill, he was also confronted by a new reality; that members of the human race, a species the Asgard had been studying like lab rats, were considerably more capable than he had suspected.
Not to mention the unfortunate realization that an Asgard was now the lab rat.
There really wasn't time to sit around and offer commiserations, which weren't exactly her strong suite at the best of times. Fixing an encouraging smile to her face, Sam said, “In our time, General O'Neill—the human I was speaking to on the radio—caught Loki a few years back. Loki is being punished for some of what he did, and when we get you back to the future, you'll be able to inform the High Council of everything else. Meanwhile, we really need to get out of here, and to do that, we need your help.”
An blinked a few times, sat up, and placed the last of the red food cubes into his mouth. This time he chewed them. He also managed to down half a glass of water without any help from Sam. Whatever was in the red cubes was having a dramatic impact on the Asgard, because his skin had cooled and was regaining some of its natural gloss. “What is it you require?” he asked.
“Is the tran
sport device in your pod operational?”
“It was only designed to operate at close range, as a safety mechanism. That is how Loki managed to bring my pod down.”
“How close?”
“Perhaps one hundred and fifty of your feet.”
That was all Sam needed to recover Vala and Mitchell, especially if they could keep the jumper cloaked. “Can we extract the transport device from the pod?”
“I am feeling much better, now.” An closed his eyes, but this time, he seemed far more relaxed. “I could undertake the task in twenty minutes, perhaps.”
She lifted the radio. “Sir, are you reading all of this?”
“All ears, Carter.”
“An, can you explain the procedure to the General to beam us out?”
Stargate SG1 - Roswell Page 22