Under His Gaze
Wet slush pummelled their faces, hitting goggles and sliding down their parkas, as the huge helicopter's rotors churned up the air around them.
"Inside as quickly as possible." The direction wasn't necessary, any thought of sightseeing disappearing in the face of the fierce wind that buffered them. The group hurried after the speaker, heading for the large building sitting atop the ice.
Colin Godwin and Melody Stanmore were the last in, Melody putting out a hand to stop Colin from slipping on a patch of ice near the entrance, the man giving her a quick nod of thanks as they followed the rest in through the large doors.
The interior of the building wasn't much warmer, but the sheer relief from the elements had most of them smiling, the exception being the two green clad air force officers who had sat alone and unspeaking throughout the long flight.
"Follow me." The tall man who had greeted them on the surface pushed his jacket's hood back and took off his goggles as he spoke, revealing a thin, angular face, his small ginger moustache a mere wisp across his top lip. "I'll do the introductions when we're a little more comfortable." His breath puffed white vapour into the chill air. Turning, he headed for a small metal door slightly to his left, and pulling it open, gestured them forward. "I'm afraid it's a bit of a climb. There are plans to put in an elevator, but for the time being we have to make do with what we have." He twisted, entering the door backwards, and began descending the ladder that stretched away into the icy shaft.
There were a few exclamations of surprise as each person reached the top of the ladder and looked down before beginning their climb, and not a few were breathing heavily by the time they reached the bottom.
They were standing in a large cavern, lit by strong lights that illuminated the strangely shaped stalagmites and stalactites jutting out from the floor and ceiling. Several passages branched off in various directions, and it was down one of these that they were led, eventually coming to an even larger chamber.
"You'll find it's pretty warm down here." The man was already pulling off his blue parka, and the others followed his lead, peeling off the layers of bulky clothing gratefully and hanging them on hooks attached to a metal partition nearby. "I'm Doctor Peter Burton. At the moment I'm in charge of the scientific side of things here, but that, like everything to do with this project, may change at any time." He gave a short, half-hearted smile, and hurried on. "You're the first group of scientists to arrive and I'm afraid you'll find things are a bit rough and ready, as you saw from the access. Over the next few weeks we'll expect to see some changes as our presence here becomes more established."
"Ah…Doctor George Spiteri here." At Burton's nod of recognition the older, grey haired man continued. "I know we were all given some details before we left…at least I assume we were?" His gaze travelled to the still silence Air Force officers standing to one side of the group.
Burton nodded. "Yes, everyone has been briefed, Doctor. Please continue."
Spiteri looked around at the rest of the group, before continuing. "I don't know about the others, but I'm finding it a little hard to believe what I've been told. I mean…aliens and spaceships….it all sounds like a plot from a Hollywood movie." There were a few muttered sounds of agreement from the people beside him. He put up a hand to stop the other man before he could speak, and continued. "I'm sure the explanations we've been given for recent events are truly what the government believes, but, let's face it, they aren't scientists. Have they investigated other possible causes, atmospheric storms for example?"
"No, they didn't - they had no reason to. The cause of the destruction of our warships and the resulting deaths of thousands of our troops, both at sea and in the air in the later battle is fully known." The answer was terse, and Burton's eyes flickered to the two Air Force officers as he spoke. "Now, follow me please and I think you'll find all your questions answered by what you are about to see."
They trailed after him, some hanging back slightly as they stared around, fascinated by what their surroundings. Tantalising glimpses of strange architecture showed through the clear blue ice, grey metallic looking walls covered with strange decoration. Susan Pritchard, the archaeologist of the group, already had her notebook out, frantically scribbling in it as she walked practically backwards as her gaze shifted from doorway to wall and over to shapes looming out of the ice. So engrossed was she that she almost collided with the man in front of her, who had stopped suddenly. She gasped and looked up, startled.
Straight into a pair of vacant, downcast eyes.
"Hell!" Colin's soft exclamation broke the silence.
Standing, leaning slightly sideways, his eyes open and staring, was a man, his features obscured enough by the block of ice encasing him that all they could tell was he appeared to be middle aged, his hair grey, and his face lined and tired looking, his eyes ringed with fatigue.
"This sure wasn't in the briefing!" Spiteri turned to Burton, his arms up, his hands gesturing wildly. "Surely this body could be removed – studied under proper conditions. Why was it left here?"
"If I may, Doctor Burton?" The older of the two Air Force officers stepped forward, the light glinting off the eagles on his shoulders. He didn't wait for an answer, turning immediately to face the group. "Colonel Reynolds, US Air Force." He moved forward, the others parting to let him through, and came to a halt facing the icy tomb. For a few long seconds he stood silently, then, abruptly, he spun, glaring at Spiteri. The doctor took a step back, flinching. "This is Colonel Jack O'Neill, and…" He practically spat the words, "he is not dead. He's the reason you are all standing here. The reason this planet is still free from the Goa'uld."
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
Colonel Gary Reynolds walked slowly through the room, his eyes narrowing as he surveyed the activity going on around him. In the three weeks since his last visit to the Antarctica site there had been a noticeable increase in the number of staff at the isolated base. A team of international experts had augmented the original group of scientists as the need for particular specialities arose, and the need for appropriate facilities had grown with them. He thought back to those early days as the mismatched group of men and women had struggled to come to terms with the overload of information they had received.
He sought out one particular figure, finding the man on the central platform, bending to look at the base of the chair, and frowned. Spiteri had proven to be argumentative and extremely demanding. Unfortunately he was the best man they could find to try and figure out exactly how the alien device operated. At least Rodney McKay, finally recovered from his latest batch of flu, was due to arrive in a few days and would take over from Burton as the overall scientist in charge of the operation. Reynolds smiled grimly. McKay wasn't one of his favourite people, but he didn't suffer fools gladly and Gary hoped to see Spiteri firmly cut down to size. It had been understandable that the scientists had questioned the events leading up to their selection – after all, it must have been a shock for them to be uprooted from their comfortable jobs and sent to the ends of the Earth with only a few days notice and very little preparation. They'd certainly had no say in the matter – their participation wasn't voluntary – but the final straw had been Spiteri's reaction to Colonel O'Neill. Now, with the arrival of scientists from every nation, it was becoming harder and harder to maintain a military presence on site, even Doctor Jackson had been made to return to the States as the political posturing became more intense. Reynolds was just grateful he had been allowed to return, albeit under strict instructions that he had no authority except in one vital matter only. And hadn't Spiteri just loved it when he heard that!
Reynolds turned and carried on, putting Spiteri from his mind. The reason for his return to the base was the same as it had been on his original trip. There was one thing that couldn't be left in the hands of the scientists – these unknown people who had no personal stake in the matter.
He approached a section of the room, partitioned off from the rest by flimsy sheets of plywood, slipped through the side opening.
And stopped.
One thing hadn't changed. Jack still stood, sightless eyes gazing into the room. The activity in the rest of the complex was in complete contrast to the stillness surrounding the man, and Gary just managed to suppress a shiver.
No one knew just what, if anything, Jack was experiencing within his thick coating of ice, but looking into his eyes, Reynolds felt an almost overwhelming sense of loss.
After the first tentative investigations of the chamber's controls the decision had been made to not attempt to revive the Colonel. Doctor Jackson had concentrated his research on any information they could find on the chamber, but, apart from managing to interpret some basic readouts, he had come to a dead end, and he had finally been compelled to return to the SGC. At least they now knew the Colonel was still alive. Spiteri had almost won the argument to have the whole coffin-like box transferred to the States for study, assuming that the man inside it was dead. Reynolds peered at the small lights on the side of the contraption. The ones indicating heart rate were glowing a faint teal blue, a far cry from the dark blue light he had seen on his last visit.
"Doctor!"
"Yes, Colonel?" The soft Scottish burr heralded the arrival of Doctor Beckett.
"What's this mean?" Reynolds pointed at the offending lights, and watched as a look of regret crossed the face of the short man standing beside him.
"Ah, yes." Beckett shook his head. "I'm afraid the Colonel's vital signs appear to be fading."
"Fading? What do you mean, fading?" Reynolds kept his voice down, matching the low tones of the doctor. It was a phenomenon he had noticed whenever anyone was within a few feet of the Colonel – they lowered their voices as if in the presence of sickness or death.
"I'm sorry, Colonel, but I mean exactly what I said. From the reports, Colonel O'Neill's life signs were very weak before he was put in suspension. This was something we were expecting." At Reynolds look of enquiry, he continued. "His body is too weak to stand long periods in what seems to be a state of suspended animation. Remember that this is an Ancient device – designed for their physiology. Despite the Colonel having some Ancient abilities, his body is still that of a normal, average human being and the equipment obviously can't cope with the levels needed to sustain his life, given his condition on entering it. The fact he has survived this long I can only attribute to the adaptation that took place to allow him to use the Ancient technology."
Reynolds felt his heart begin to beat faster as the doctor's words sank in. He looked up at the face of the man he had respected for so long, the man he had followed into battle, the man who had saved his life more than once.
They weren't going to lose him. Not after everything he'd been through.
It wasn't an option.
