The Measure of a Man

So. A new story with completely new characters. Something I haven't done for a while and thought I'd try. Hopefully you'll like it, or at least find it entertaining enough to read.

Disclaimer: I'm not making any money off this story, and mean no infringement when I use the SGC characters. It's all for fun.

That said, here we go!

OOOOOOOOOOOO

Sixteen Months Ago

Las Animas County, Colorado was a fairly quiet place. Not that it was perfect, because it had its share of drunk drivers, domestic violence, drug issues and even the occasional hunter with a quick trigger who was more than capable of shooting at anything that moved – human, animal or automobile – but aside from those, it was a fairly nice place. The people were friendly, entertaining, the crime rate was well in control, and if you were a hunter or a fisherman, it was at times, paradise on Earth.

"Unless you're in charge of keeping the peace…" Sheriff's Deputy Anthony Ruff muttered to himself as he was pulled from his inner musings by the sound of a car rapidly approaching.

Interstate 25 ran through the state of Colorado, connecting Wyoming and New Mexico and in most places the freeway wound through the Rockies, the land on either side of the road sometimes dropping as much as several hundred feet straight down with only a guardrail to protect you if you lost control. Not necessarily an environment that encouraged high rates of speed.

On this particular stretch of road, however, it was flat, with the land on either side going straight up instead of down and offering a fair amount of security to even the most timid of drivers. This was the stretch of road that saw the most speeders, and because of that, the most wrecks. A stretch of road that required constant patrolling to keep the accident rates down, and the fatalities to a minimum.

The car roared by Anthony's cruiser going almost 100 miles an hour – ninety-seven when he looked at the radar gun attached to the dash of his car. It was a muscle car, bright yellow and easy to see in the light of the full moon that had the sky lit up almost as bright as Anthony had ever seen it. He pulled onto the road and accelerated, even as he radioed to central command that he was in pursuit of a speeder, and would follow soon with a license plate number.

At the rate of speed the car had been going, he'd been lucky to even see what color it was.

Aided by the fact that he was intimately familiar with the roads, Anthony had no qualms about going over a hundred miles an hour as he tried to catch up to the car ahead of him. He purposely kept his flasher lights off, to avoid a car chase that he didn't feel like initiating, and was rewarded less than fifteen minutes later when he finally spied the taillights of the car ahead of him. It was the only car on the road beside himself, so even if it had been a brown Plymouth, chances were he'd have been able to identify it as his quarry.

By now the road had turned steep and winding, and the yellow muscle car had slowed down, the driver not as much of a moron as Anthony had first assumed. Which was good, because hopefully that meant this would be a simple citation and on their way type traffic stop. Not something more sinister – or dangerous.

He radioed in the license number of the car once he was close enough to see it, and could see by the way the driver kept turning his head that he'd been recognized as a police officer. If the guy was going to run, this would be the best time for it. Instead, when Anthony lit him up with his flashers, the car slowed even further, driving until they reached a turn around spot where the road widened, and then pulled over and came to a complete stop.

Now, as Anthony pulled his cruiser in behind him and hit him with the spotlight, the guy could take off as well. It wasn't as common, really, because he'd have already been identified by his plates – unless they were stolen, or the guy was too drunk to realize any of the above – but it did happen occasionally. Which was why he kept the car running as he stepped out and walked up to the driver's side, his left hand hovering over his sidearm, but not touching it.

The window rolled down and the driver turned off the car, a clear sign to Anthony that he wasn't going to try and run – or try to run him over, which was a relief as well.

"Good evening, officer…" the driver said.

Anthony nodded, his hand still close to his gun, but his manner relaxing even further as he noticed the man's hands were near the steering wheel and not hidden from sight. Clearly, this man had been pulled over before and knew the drill.

"Good evening, sir," Anthony said, looking in the car as well as watching the driver for any sign that there was more to him that meets the eye. "Do you know how fast you were driving?"

"When you pulled me over?"

Anthony had to smile at that, even though he'd already decided that the guy was going to get a ticket unless he had a pretty good story. Maybe even if his story was a great one.

"Before that, sir."

"Seventy?"

"Try ninety-seven."

The man looked surprised.

"Really?"

"Can I see your license, please, sir?"

The man nodded.

"I'm sorry, officer…" he said as he fished his wallet out of an inside pocket of the jacket he was wearing. "I'm not normally a speed demon like this, but I'm a doctor, and I'm supposed to be in surgery in less than an hour and I'm running behind."

He handed his license over and Anthony looked at his hand as he did so. They were smooth and unaccustomed to hard labor; they could be a doctor's hands.

"I'll get you on your way as soon as possible, sir," Anthony told him, taking the license from him and looking at it. Tobias Johnson, MD. Huh. "Could I see your-"

"Here's my insurance and registration," Johnson interrupted, reaching up to the visor and handing him a small stack of papers.

"Thank you, sir."

Anthony took all the information back to the cruiser, and used his onboard computer to check the registration of the car first. It wasn't stolen and was registered to Johnson, who Anthony then looked up as well. Several tickets for speeding, but nothing so reckless as the ninety-seven he'd been going tonight, and no warrants or outstanding speculations.

Relieved that he hadn't caught a serial killer or something, he wrote out a citation for the speeding in his crisp handwriting and got out of his car once more.

"No way I can talk myself out of this?" Tobias Johnson asked with a hopeful smile as he approached.

"You were putting yourself and others at risk, Doctor Johnson," Anthony told him as he handed him the pad for him to sign. "No operation is worth killing yourself to get to."

Johnson sighed, but nodded his agreement and handed the signed ticket back to Anthony.

"Thank you."

It could have been worse, and he knew it. He was a smart guy, after all.

"You're welcomed, sir. Have a nice night."

He pointedly left it at that and went back to his car. As he did so, he noticed a light somewhere around the moon that definitely wasn't a star. He frowned, looking up at it and didn't even notice when the doctor started his car and left. The light grew brighter, until it seemed to be hovering just above the valley, and he reached into his car for his radio.

"Dispatch, this is-"

There was a squawk on the radio, and then the hiss of static for an instant before the thing went completely dead. An instant later the dash lights went out as his cruiser turned off.

Anthony clicked the radio a couple of times, but nothing happened. He opened the door to get in and start the car back up when he was suddenly enveloped in a light that seemed to be brighter than the sun. An instant later, all that was on the side of the road was the cruiser. The sheriff's deputy that had been driving it was gone without a trace.