AN: This story has been brewing for over a year. It was inspired by Overload (another story in this archive). That story reminded me of a MacGyver episode. I combined the two, added a character from MASH, and stirred in the results of watching too much JAG. The result is this story. All of these elements are the intellectual property of others. I have borrowed them and reused them to create something new. No infringement is intended.

The Court Martial of John Sheppard

Chapter 1: A Prologue of Plotting

The sky was clear and the mountains stunning on the planet of Alyria, and the government offices, built on the side of a mountain, offered beautiful views. The young man gazing out the window of the second minister's office, however, was not admiring the view. He wore a uniform of a sort, but even without it, his military bearing would be apparent. His back was rigid. His brows were drawn down in concentration, and his eyes, when he turned back toward the occupant of the office, were empty of all but hatred.

"He has to suffer before he dies."

The man to whom this remark was addressed was softer than his visitor, but his eyes revealed a calculating and manipulative nature. Seated behind a large desk, his forefinger resting on his chin in a contemplative manner, he seemed comfortable in his role of conspirator. A few nervous twitches, however, gave away his unease in the presence of his more violent visitor. The second minister of Alyria considered his words carefully.

"But surely, simply killing him would be adequate revenge."

The visage of the soldier grew even darker. "No, my father suffered before he was killed. He lost everything that mattered to him, his position, and his respect. My vengeance must include humiliation and the realization of loss."

Realizing his mistake, the minister rethought his next statement. "But is this the way to achieve it?"

The soldier slowly turned from the window to face the desk completely, his eyes boring into those of the other man, forcing him to look away from the committed hatred he saw there. His voice, when he spoke, was soft and deadly.

"Are you getting cold feet, Sani?"

The minister picked up the danger signs and stood from his desk to disguise his nervousness.

"No, I understand what you need. I am concerned that we will not have everything in place in two weeks."

"Remember, Sani, all I really need is privacy, and you are being paid well to provide it."

"I know, I know, but, after all, a betrayal . . . and on Alyria . . ." The minister spread his hands as if to say such a thing was unthinkable. The words sounded concerned, but the look was still calculating. Was there more money to be made?

"Yes, but you will survive to become prime minister, and you will have the means to rescue the treaty and come out a hero. If all goes according to plan, no one will be hurt but the one who deserves it." There was a veiled threat in there, and the minister caught it.

"But what of his colleagues? What of our agent?"

"His colleagues will not die but will suffer for their part in my father's downfall. As for the agent, well, she is expendable."

The second minister sat back in his chair, again contemplating the serious young man in front of him. "While I don't agree with your cavalier attitude toward the lives of your employees, I do understand your reasons." He met the eyes of his visitor, disturbed again with the burning focus he found there. Reaching for paper and a writing implement, he began to compose a memorandum.

"This letter will grant you admission to a private wing in our mental hospital as well as assure that no questions are asked of you or your patients." He signed his name with a flourish and looked up.

"I assume you will have all the pharmaceuticals you will need?"

"Yes, I am fully prepared and will not have to bother innocent Alyrians with my evil plans." The last was said with a sarcastic sneer, plainly displaying the soldier's contempt for the minister.

Pausing in his writing, Sani added, "And do you have the medallion ready?"

"Yes," the visitor replied, handing over a wooden box about the size of a book.

The minister opened the box and examined its contents. "Excellent." He closed the box and put it on a shelf behind him. Turning back to his desk, he folded and sealed the memorandum, stood, and handed it to the man.

"I trust this concludes our business and we will not need to see each other again?" It was a good try, but the nervousness behind the words was clearly apparent, as if the older man found the transaction distasteful.

"No, this should be sufficient," he said, putting the letter in an inside pocket. He was not fooled by the other man's statement, and he realized he might need to check on his confederate again. "In six weeks you will be prime minister and I will be avenged."

The two did not shake hands or observe any other leave-taking rituals. The second minister slowly sat down as the door closed behind his visitor. He wondered at what could have inspired such hatred, and he hoped he would never be its target.

Tapping the all important letter as he left the building, Acton Kolya checked off one more task in his plans for John Sheppard.