AMBITIONS

by Soledad

Title: Ambitions

Author: Soledad

Disclaimer: The settings and the canon characters belong to Showtime, Gekko and other PTB. Only a few original characters and the plot belong to me.

Rating: General, for now.

Genre: Action-adventure, Drama.

Summary: This is a prequel to my story "Choices" and basically shows Kavanagh's time at SGC.

Timeframe: from the 6th Season SG1 episode "Redemption" to the 7th Season SG1 episode "Lost City", roughly.

Archiving: my own website, the Otherworlds Library Yahoo Group and the Hidden Realms LJ community. Everyone else, please, ask first. I prefer to know where my stuff goes.

PART 01

Like many other people, Dr. Calvin Thomas Kavanagh had once believed in love at first sight. It had been like that with his wife – well, ex-wife now – whom he'd married at a much too young age, without ample consideration of the possible consequences. He'd never known, however, that there also was such thing as hate at first sight, and that it could be just as intense and logic-defying.

Not until he met Rodney McKay, that is.

Granted, their first encounter didn't happen under ideal circumstances. It happened in the early 2002, when Calvin was defending his second thesis at CalTech about fluid mechanics and transport processes by complex and multiphasic fluids. By that time, he'd worked for CalTech for almost seven years, after having started his studies at the tender age of sixteen and graduated at the age of twenty.

He'd chosen a topic for his thesis that had been thoroughly researched by the John F. Brady Group of Stokesian Dynamics, and being a member of said group himself, his fellow alumni had all come to watch his performance, even the ones like Ganesh, Asimina or Sanjah, who'd defended their own thesis before him. He didn't really mind attracting quite the audience. He was fairly certain of his abilities (not to mention the godawful amount of research he'd done for this project), and attention was always a good thing in the scientific community. His theories were always soundly based on well-researched fact, so he didn't have to fear embarrassment.

Of course, he couldn't have taken into consideration the unexpected appearance of one Rodney McKay, an astrophysicist as well known for his brilliance as for his insufferable arrogance. Why McKay chose to come in and witness his performance in the first place, Calvin had no idea. Chemical Engineering wasn't even the Canadian's field of expertise, although, he dabbled in it sometimes, like in just about everything that caught his interest.

Which, of course, didn't keep McKay from questioning Calvin's every single sentence. After half an hour, they were practically shouting at each other, to the tolerant amusement of Professors Brady and Brennen who were leading the committee, and the pitying looks Ileana and Alejandra were sending him made clear that they didn't think their fellow grad student would ever achieve his second PhD.

To tell the truth, Calvin was getting the same impression.

So he was understandably surprised when he not only passed with flying colours but even got additional appreciation "for originality and devoted defence" of his thesis. Life was full of surprises.

Margie, the head of the support staff, threw an impromptu party in honour of his newly achieved second doctorate, inviting the recent post-docs as well as all the professors of the faculty. Given the international mix that was their research group, the food was… exotic, to say the least, but aplenty, from Indian through Mexican to Chinese, and Calvin began to relax and enjoy himself, when he was approached – well, yelled at – by McKay.

"You! Kavanagh!" the Canadian scientist – and all-out pain in the ass – was waving with his fork. "Do you have a moment?"

Calvin suppressed an irritated sigh. He hated it when people didn't address him properly – having two PhDs at the age of twenty-seven was no small feat, and he'd worked very hard to get them. Besides, after his ordeal McKay was the last person he wanted to get sociable with.

"Not really," he said, not even trying to be polite, "but if you keep it short…"

"I can do that," McKay promised, taking a huge bit of his soddy, dropping taco. Calvin took a careful step back. He didn't want chili sauce on his only good suit. "Can you tell me what exactly are you doing in that Stokesian Dynamics group?"

"Well, it's not so as if our research would be confidential or whatnot," Calvin replied, irritated that the Canadian couldn't look it up himself. It was all on the Internet, after all. "Our group's research interests are in fluid mechanics and transport processes, with a special interest in problems at the interface between continuum mechanics and statistical mechanics(1)."

"No, no," McKay interrupted. "I mean what you are doing? Personally."

"Fundamental studies of complex fluids," Calvin shrugged. "I specifically study liquid crystals. It's mostly lab work."

"Hmmm," McKay pulled a face, which didn't hinder him in eating his taco at the same time. "That's a criminal waste of a true researcher's abilities."

"It's an interesting challenge," Calvin corrected, a little angrily. "And it feeds me and my family. I'm lucky that I got this job after graduation. It keeps me in touch with the latest research."

"Nonsense," McKay waved impatiently, and Calvin neatly sidestepped the flying drops of chili sauce. "The real work is done elsewhere. There are project where you could be put to much better use."

"Well, for some reason the government hasn't contacted me yet to go to Area 51 and help them to solve the mystery of the Roswell UFO's hyperdrive," Calvin replied with biting irony.

"Isn't that a shame?" McKay said blandly, finishing his taco and looking around absently for a napkin to clean his greasy fingers. "Well, perhaps they'll realize their mistake yet."

As soon as the party was over, Calvin drove to the nursery school to collect Tommy, who was finally showing some very slow progress due to the new therapy, although, as the lady therapist said regretfully, he would need a better one to make a considerable difference. Calvin knew that, of course, but a special school would have cost more money than he could afford at the moment. The four-year-old seemed content enough, looking at him with enormous, cornflower-blue eyes. With his curly blond hair, the kid was like those little angels in renaissance paintings. Nobody would guess at first sight that something was not right with him.

They rushed to Liam's school then, where Calvin was treated with another impromptu speech by Mrs Eckles, Liam's teacher, about how the kid would really need to go to a school for specifically gifted children. Well, that was nothing new, either. Unfortunately, schools for gifted children cost a lot of money, too, which he didn't have, either. Perhaps when Dion has graduated… although it might be too late by then. Liam's eager interest and hunger for knowledge could be gone, due to the lack of proper stimulation. But that was not something he could change right now.

Returning to his sister's place, where he and the boys had been living since the divorce, Calvin gave a short summary of the big event, leaving out the unpleasant details that they wouldn't have understood anyway. Academic bitching was a phenomenon completely baffling for outsiders. Thus everyone was delighted by the good news, they ate together, then watched together Tommy's favourite cartoon, and the kids were put to bed. Aside from the never-ending financial concerns, Calvin was having a good time, and soon he completely forgot about his weird encounter with McKay at the party.

Until a few weeks later, when a pretty blonde woman in her early thirties entered his lab that was situated near Professor Brady's office at Spalding.

"Dr. Samantha Carter," she introduced herself. "I'm a theoretical astrophysicist."

"Then you must have taken the wrong turn," Calvin said. "This is Chemical Engineering, and we are currently researching the development and solution of macroscopic equations to describe transport in heterogeneous media."

"Such as an oil reservoir, a packed bed reactor, or the flow of a suspension?" she asked, and at his surprised look, she added with a smile that was surprisingly charming. "I do have a degree in Engineering as well, although my field is a different one. As for taking the wrong turn… you are Dr. Kavanagh, aren't you?"

"What if I am?" he asked, admittedly a little unfriendly, because he wanted to finish the series of experiments in time, for a change.

She gave him a wide, ear-to-ear grin, full of understanding, from one scientist to another. "I'm sorry to interrupt you, but I was sent here to make you an offer. Would you like to work for the government?"

All of a sudden, the short conversation with McKay at the party started to make sense.

"To help them figure out how the hyperdrive of the Roswell UFO works?" he asked sarcastically.

She rolled her eyes and groaned. "I swear, one day I'm going shoot McKay. In fact, I'll shoot him the next time he dares to set foot in my lab. Surely, generations of scientist are going to worship me for that," then she became very serious. "No, doctor, this is a lot bigger than the Roswell UFO. You'll have to move to another location, more or less permanently, if you accept. And you'll have to sign an oath of confidentiality."

He shook his head. "I can't leave Pasadena. I'm a single parent with two small children who need me, and…"

She interrupted him. "We are aware of your situation, Dr. Kavanagh. We'll provide your family with proper accommodations, near your workplace, and we'll help your sister and his husband to find acceptable jobs. It's not as if they'd have much to leave behind."

That was painfully true. Patrick had been unemployed for years, despite being a good construction worker, and Siobhan's shitty job was far from being secure, too. It was a bit unsettling, though how much this woman, whom he was seeing for the first time in his life, knew about him.

"I cannot," he said. "My children need special education, and I've just found a nursery school for the younger one…"

"…which you won't be able to pay for much longer," she said. "You barely manage on your salary as it is. There are schools for your sons within reach where you will be working. And the job I'm offering you would mean a considerably bigger paycheck as well as a challenge you'd hardly find anywhere else."

All of a sudden, Calvin heard the inner alarm sirens howling in his head. There was only one way how she could know this much about his situation.

"You're from the military, aren't you?" he asked.

To her credit, she didn't deny it.

"I'm also the leader of several scientific projects on which we want you to work," she said.

Calvin frowned. "Military research, huh?" It made sense. He had a PhD in both mechanical and chemical engineering. "Do you want me to build you the new generation of the H bomb or what? Because that's not something I'm willing to do. I happen to have a problem with weapons of mass destruction, national security notwithstanding."

Dr. Carter nodded, showing no sign of surprise.

"We are aware of that fact," she said. "My… superiors have been studying your psychological profile to find the post where you could be the most useful – and that's not the labs where the bombs are being built."

"You've got a psych profile of everyone here at CalTech?" he asked with a scowl.

She shook her head, grinning. "Nah. Only of the most promising ones."

That knocked the wind off his sail. He'd always been very proud of his work, and knowing that it had caught someone's eyes in the Pentagon felt… well, nice. Reassuring, even. The military didn't waste its attention on dilettantes.

"And where would I be living, assuming that I accept the offer?" he asked, somewhat mollified.

"Colorado Springs," she replied. "We're looking for new researchers for the Air Force Space Command. You'd be working at the Cheyenne Mountain Operations Center."

Calvin gulped, half from surprise, half from a slight anxiety. "You mean inside Cheyenne Mountain?"

She nodded. "Yep, two thousand feet underground. Would that be a problem for you?"

"No," he replied dutifully, although he was certain she knew he wasn't claustrophobic. "But would I need to live at the base, too? Because that would be a problem."

"Of course not," she said. "All science staff and most of the officers have houses or apartments assigned to them, unless they want to stay at the base all the time."

"I see," he said, still a little suspicious. "What sort of research are we talking about?"

"Deep space telemetry," Carter answered blandly, and Calvin knew she was lying. But he also knew she wouldn't give him any other answer, unless he accepted."

"That's not exactly my field," he reminded her mildly.

"I know," Carter grinned. "We need you for developing better propulsion systems for the satellites and to provide new sorts of fuel, if it's possible."

He knew she still wasn't telling him the truth – well, not the entire truth anyway – but his curiosity was piqued already.

"This is something really big, isn't it?" he asked slowly.

Carter nodded, with a big, happy grin practically splitting her pretty face. "The biggest thing you can probably imagine… nah, it's actually a lot bigger than anything you could imagine, even in your wildest dreams. Besides, it pays extremely well."

"How well?" he asked.

She named a sum that made him dizzy. He wouldn't be able to make that much money in two lifetimes at CalTech, even if he had the hope to take over a faculty chair by the age of thirty. Which was not a likely thing to happen.

"All right," he said. "Where's the catch?"

"Should there be one?" Carter asked.

"Definitely," he said. "This sounds too good to come without any strings attached."

"You are right, of course," Carter admitted. "The catch is, you'll never be allowed to speak about your work, to anyone outside the base. If you write another thesis, which I actually expect from a man as smart as you are, you won't be able to publish it for decades… if ever. No one but your co-workers will probably read it, and even though they are the best and the brightest this planet can offer, it's not a very big audience."

The peculiar phrasing caught his attention.

"This planet, huh?" he said. "So this isn't another joint effort between the US military and Canada alone, is it?"

"You're very observant. I like that in a fellow scientist," she said approvingly. "No, this is not a purely North-American project. Event though we do have the ultimate control, dozens of the best scientists from all around the world work for us."

"And you just happened to pick me, a practically unknown young researcher, with the ink still wet on my second PhD?" he asked sarcastically.

"We've been following your career for a few years by now," she replied calmly. "Your first thesis caught a lot of attention in certain scientific circles, but we wanted to know what else you are capable of. So we pulled a few strings to keep you at CalTech – you didn't really believe that Professor Brady would have invited you into the Stokesian Dynamics group without some… encouragement? And saw that you got really challenging tasks assigned to you?"

"You've been manipulating me," Calvin realized numbly. Here he'd been thinking that all his achievements had been made due to his talent and his hard work, while he had to thank his post to the intervention of the military… It was a bitter pill to swallow."

"We've been testing you," she corrected. "We can't invite someone in just because they look promising. The work we do is too important for such mistakes. We have been testing several dozen other aspiring young scientists in different countries at the same time. Only four of them showed the sort of talent and the working ability we need. You are one of those four."

Well, that was actually flattering. He knew he was good, but other people tended to overlook that fact, just because he lacked certain social skills and didn't have the time – or the nerve – to hang out with his colleagues. It was kinda hard with two small children who needed their father. He knew he could rise to any challenge science made him face. However, the magnitude of the offer was somewhat frightening.

"I can't really say no, can I?" he asked carefully.

Carter shrugged. "Of course you can, don't be ridiculous," she said. "We don't draft civilians to work for us. Sure, you won't become famous, although your work will be possibly more important than that of some Nobel Prize winner. But you're offered an opportunity other people can't even dream about, not to mention a generous paycheck. And don't forget that we have access to educational facilities you'd never be able to afford otherwise."

She was trying to lure him through his children. It was blatant blackmail… and it was working. How could he refuse the offer when it gave him the chance to get better therapy and a steady rehab for Tommy, and better education for Liam? And the money… if they really paid him that much, Siobhan would not need to waste her time in the fucking K-Mart, standing behind the counter and getting shit from rude customers. She could stay home with the boys as she'd always wanted, give them all the love and attention they needed and that she was so willing to give. And Dion could finish college without delivering pizza all night to pay his student fees.

Was a published thesis, were a few articles in some geek magazine worth giving up all those chances? Could he afford to say no and condemn his siblings to struggle for a living for the rest of their lives?

"I'll… have to discuss this with my sister," he finally said. "She'd be the one to put up with all the changes in the first place."

"Of course," Carter handed him a business card. "Call me when you've come to a decision. But I'll have to ask you to make it within the week. We need to start some new projects in a month's time, and we need to have all future co-workers firmly settled by then.

TBC

Notes:

(1) Last sentence quoted directly from the CalTech website. I don't even pretend to understand what it means, but McKay does, and that's enough.