Title: Fire in the Sky
Part: 1/10
Fandom: Stargate: SG-1
Pairing: Sam/Jack
Genre: Adventure, romance
Season: Post-season 10; after Continuum
Summary: When Jack goes AWOL, SG-1 must follow his interplanetary trail - but they can't do it without the help of some old enemies. Sequel to 'Smokescreen' and 'Smoke on the Water.'
A/N: This story is third in a series of stories that depict separate, self-contained missions but contain continuing strands of character development. That means you can read any of them as stand-alone, but reading previous stories will give you deeper insight to where the characters are at. Check out the links under my profile.
PART ONE
As far as Sam Carter was concerned, Jack O'Neill's impromptu marriage proposal had been one of his finest moments.
It had been during their first trip to the cabin after Sam had returned from Atlantis. Regardless of their late arrival, they had gone out by the lake to cast their lines under the stars. They had talked, joking together at first, though things had become a little more serious after that. The topic had been a little more painful for him than for her; she had apologised, and tried to move the conversation on. He had cut her off in the middle of her sentence with two words.
Marry me.
No ring, no flowers, no semi-prepared speech; she suspected from his tone of voice that it had been as much as a surprise from him as for her. But Sam loved that it had been so spontaneous, so genuine, so... Jack.
And it seemed that he hadn't given up on surprising her just yet.
"Jack," she said, gazing at him in disbelief. His face grinned at her from the screen on the wall; around her, the constant hum of the Hammond's engines filled the room. "I thought we said..."
"No private communications when you're offworld?" Jack replied.
"Yes. If you're not contacting the ship on official business..."
"Ah, but I am," he told her, mischief in his eyes. "I'm just taking care of a little personal business at the same time. Good job you've got a secure communications feed to your quarters, huh?"
"Jack," she began, giving him a stern look. It was spoiled slightly by her lingering smile.
"Sam," he replied, calmly. "It's our anniversary."
He said it with such relish that she felt a thrill of joy go through her.
She reigned herself in, shaking her head in spite of herself. "It's not fair on the crew. I'm their commander – I can't expect them to go weeks without seeing their loved ones if I can't live up to it myself."
He looked at her with fond exasperation. "Perhaps I should rephrase that," he said. "This is our first anniversary. Besides, I think you underestimate the amount your country – your planet – owes you. Speaking of owing you something... have you, uh, spoken to Marks lately?"
"Marks?" Sam looked confused for a moment; his face fell. Then she laughed. "Oh, the champagne. Yes, I discovered that last week."
Jack stared at her. "I told him it was a secret!" he exclaimed, scandalised. Sam grinned at him.
"You're forgetting about ship regulations," she answered. "No alcohol on board without my express permission. I almost had to discipline him when I caught him trying to smuggle it aboard. He didn't have a choice, Jack," she added, amused at his disappointed expression.
"But that's all he gave you, right?" Jack answered. "Just the champagne."
"Yes. Why?"
A mischievous look entered Jack's eyes, but his face remained otherwise passive. "No reason. So, Daniel came round this morning bearing home-baked cake, the latest Simpsons box set and a crate of Guinness." He beamed at her. "Samantha, you know me too well."
Sam grinned back at him and answered, "I was going to ask Teal'c to pass it all along to you, but he insisted that he would have to deliver it with a traditional Jaffa love-song on my behalf."
"In which case," Jack replied, deliberately raising an eyebrow, "I'm grateful you gave it to Daniel instead. They both send their love, by the way. Mitchell and Vala too."
Sam smiled, though she felt a pang of loneliness at hearing their names. She told herself that it was silly to miss them: missions aboard the Hammond weren't nearly as long-term as her year-long excursion in Atlantis. Yet it was still early days for her as ship commander, and she often found herself missing the support of her friends on both SG-1 and Atlantis. Most of all, though, she missed Jack.
Even so, she knew her absences were harder on him than on her. She was in the thick of it, always busy, always needed; he was left behind, knowing the danger she faced but powerless to protect her. He tried not to show how much it troubled him; but every time she caught a glimpse of the fear in his eyes, she wondered how much longer she would be able to put the safety of the galaxy ahead of the one man she loved so deeply.
She looked at his face, gazing at her from the screen, and longed to be next to him.
"So what was the official part of this message, sir?" she asked, trying to keep her tone light, desperate to move on from her melancholy thoughts. She could still think of him as her commanding officer sometimes, when she needed to; it made seeing him from light years away that little bit easier. It pained her to do so, but sometimes it was the only way to keep control.
"Well, Carter..." – he gave her a half-amused look – "...the nerds at Area 51 are desperate to get their hands on the mission data so far. Specifically, your tests with the Chimera optical protection whatsit..."
"Chimera Optics Projection System," she corrected, smiling. He grimaced.
"I knew that," he told her, and concluded: "The rest of us wouldn't mind a look at the numbers, either."
Sam smiled again, slipping easily into an explanation. "Well, the results do look promising. After making some adjustments to our latest long-range prototype, we've conducted a number of tests in which we've been able to successfully project a holographic image to the surface of a planet from low orbit. However, projection seems to have been attenuated in several cases; our data suggests that a strong planetary electromagnetic field may affect the quality of the projection."
A familiar look of incomprehension passed over Jack's face but he didn't ask for clarification, instead jumping to a more practical question: "Can we overcome that?"
"It shouldn't be a problem," Sam answered. "To be honest, that's not really the main issue."
Jack arched his eyebrows. "Oh?"
"So far we've been unsuccessful in our attempts to get the technology to work through electromagnetic shielding," she explained. "For the moment, that rules out any application of the Chimera system in most infiltration operations. On top of that, some instances of electromagnetic interference have been causing difficulties with the audio and visual signals received by the person whose image is being projected."
"Why?" Jack asked bluntly. "I thought this was Asgard technology. They never had any problems popping up in strange places."
"That's what it's based on, yes sir. But the Chimera system itself is eighty-two percent Earth-built. It's being developed not only for immediate practical application but also with a view to produce something made completely from Earth materials. The more we try to incorporate Earth elements into alien designs, the more problems there are to solve. To be honest, sir, we still have no idea how the technology enables the person using it to see and hear the environment into which their image is being projected. It should be impossible."
"You'll figure it out," Jack told her confidently.
"Maybe," Sam replied. "I've got some good scientists on the Chimera team. I just wish I could spend more time on it myself, and even then I'm not sure..."
"Sam."
She trailed off, realising that she had been about to embark on a feverish list of all the problems they were facing with the Chimera device. She grimaced, but Jack was looking at her with a knowing expression.
"Sam, you're right to keep a little distance between you and the projects that go on under your command. Your priority has to lie with the execution of your orders – and more importantly, with your crew."
She nodded. "I know. It's just... wherever I am, I always feel I could be doing something more."
Jack gazed warmly at her. "You're already doing more than anyone has asked of you, Sam. You always have."
At that moment, the ship's alarm began to blare; a voice came through the intercom summoning Sam to the bridge, and then the whole ship shook. Sam stumbled but managed to keep her balance, dimly aware that Jack was calling her name.
"Jack–"
"I know," he answered, and added urgently: "I love you."
Before she could reply, another impact rocked the ship; the screen went dead. Without hesitation, she ran for the bridge.
The daylight shone bright and strong on Aurelis, but little of it touched O'Neill.
It had been eighteen hours since they had lost contact with the Hammond. At first he had tried to convince himself that it was just a technical problem; Sam would fix it. A few hours after that, he had told himself that the ship must have been engaged in a minor scuffle with an enemy vessel; sustained some damage to a few internal systems; just needed time to repair the damage and get communications back online.
He hadn't been able to hold onto those hopes for long. He simply knew the dangers too well.
He still projected his typical, wry self. He still filled awkward silences with ironic jokes and inappropriate comments, though perhaps his humour had been a little darker than usual. His cynicism – something that had been gradually easing since his engagement to Sam – seemed to have gained new depths since they had lost contact with her ship. And despite Jack's dry and careless manner, his insides felt as cold and hard as steel.
He had chosen his clothing and equipment very carefully for this mission: black fatigues instead of the standard green; a heavy combat vest full of emergency supplies. He had wanted to take more ordnance along, but the sergeant in charge of the SGC armoury had told him that he was only authorised to take a nine-millimetre and some extra clips. The pistol was currently strapped to his right thigh, and the bullets were stowed away in one of the multiple pockets of his vest.
He eyed the P90 of the airman in front of him. Now that's what he should be carrying...
Jack heard the familiar sound of the Stargate shutting down behind him. The DHD was a few yards to his left, perched on the lip of the hill. In front of them, the land sloped down into a densely populated little valley. Tall buildings clustered around a narrow but fast-running river; livestock grazed on the hillsides around. It all looked so simple, Jack thought; yet he knew they harboured a renewable source of energy that could be invaluable to the sustainability of the human population on Earth.
He knew what he was risking.
"Thinking of old times, sir?" his escort, the newest member of SG-17, asked. He had apparently misinterpreted Jack's silence for a reminiscent pause. O'Neill threw him a questioning look; he added uncertainly: "I heard you came here with the rest of SG-1 a few years ago, General, before you took command of the SGC. I thought that was why the elders specifically requested that you be at the negotiations."
At first Jack didn't answer, glancing briefly at the DHD.
"That's right, Lieutenant," he said at last. "But they're the ones that set up this whole shebang. They wouldn't have done it if they don't plan to give us something, regardless of who actually turns up."
"Sir?" the lieutenant asked, and Jack realised that his final sentence had sounded as though he was addressing himself. Maybe he was. Jack shook his head and gestured the junior officer to lead the way.
They had gone only a few steps down the hill before Jack slipped awkwardly on the uneven ground. He let out a cry but managed to break his fall; the young lieutenant whipped round and hurried back towards him.
"General! Sir, are you alright?"
"I'm fine," Jack replied angrily. He had been asked that question countless times over the past eighteen hours, whenever anyone had found out Sam was missing. The lieutenant stretched out a hand to help him up, but Jack knocked it aside, muttering, "What am I, an invalid?"
"No, sir," his escort replied, abashed. Jack sighed and hoisted himself up. He seemed to lose his balance for a moment, and quickly grabbed hold of the other man's shoulders.
It only took Jack a couple of seconds to get hold of the lieutenant's zat gun. He slipped it out of its holster and stepped back before the young soldier could comprehend what was happening.
"Sorry, kid."
The serpent-like weapon sprang open. He fired.
A field of blue energy hit the junior officer and he fell, convulsing, to the ground. Jack paused a moment, his conscience objecting; he pushed the self-recriminating thoughts away, hunkering down to relieve the lieutenant of his weapons and ammunition. He worked quickly, leaving nothing he could use; this planet was safe enough, and SG-17 would find their youngest member as soon as they came investigate why he hadn't shown up at the settlement with O'Neill. It caused Jack a slight twinge of guilt to leave one of his own unarmed and vulnerable, but it couldn't be helped.
He stood up and ran back towards the DHD. After a brief glance around to check no-one was watching, he punched in the co-ordinates he had memorised before leaving Earth. The Stargate activated with a rush of energy. Jack readied his P90, cast one last glance over his shoulder, and then ran into the fluctuating blue of the event horizon.
End of Part 1.