[Note: Spoilers for 'Shades of Grey', non-SG1 POV.]
- - - - -
Cancer (June 21 - July 22)
Money will come from an unexpected source. If you put it in a mesh bag and run it through the washer, you'll get most of the smell out.
- - - - -
Colonel Robert Makepeace sighed as he looked around the base. The NID had offered him a choice role in the shaping of the Earth's future. Liaison, they called it. Travel off world with SG teams. Scout potential new sources of technology and act as a courier for the items that the NID teams had... liberated from alien sources.
It was good.
He could make a difference and follow the mandates of the program. Not the mandates of Doctor Jackson and the scientists... the true mission directives of the SGC... find and acquire alien technology in order to defend the Earth from the Goa'uld. He sighed, remembering the disdainful way Maybourne spoke about Jackson. He bore the scientist no particular ill-will. If anything, he respected him. He was only doing what he was trained to do.
Just like Makepeace.
There are things you are trained to do. You can be trained to obey. Trained to shoot. Even trained to kill. But defending what you love wasn't trained. It came from deep down. There were no options, you did what you had to do.
In the end, it wasn't about dogma and it wasn't about uncertain allies. It was about setting a goal and reaching it by whatever means necessary. O'Neill understood that. He was an old trooper, an old hand. He understood the price of freedom.
A stain on the hand to save a life. Save a country.
But could you save a soul?
He sighed again and pushed open the door to the locker room. It was good. In the end, that was all the comfort he had. It was good. In the long run, it might even be... right.
Daniel Jackson turned and looked at Makepeace as he came through the door. His inexplicably ancient blue eyes burned into Makepeace for a long moment until Robert found himself holding his breath. In that moment, he felt that Jackson knew. He had just plumbed the depths of the Marine's soul and found the truth.
And then he turned away.
"Should be a relatively quick operation, Colonel." Jackson fastened the straps of his pack. "Quick in and out with a short ground survey." All business. None of the easy banter of SG1 of old.
"Have you slept at all, Doctor Jackson?"
"I..." Now the scientist was confused, not wanting to like the interloper. Not wanting to relate.
"It's okay." He shrugged it off and tried to grin. "I had a few of those kinds of days myself."
"It gets easier?" The words were almost too soft to be heard.
Makepeace smiled. "You take consolation in the fact that you know you're right and that you're doing the right thing."
"And if you're wrong?" Somehow, Robert knew this conversation was no longer about him or the archaeologist.
"I guess you just hope like hell that someone will be waiting when you come to your senses... and that it's not too late when you do."
"Too late?" Those inquisitive eyes were on him again. He deflected, turning away to shield himself. There was a pause. "Colonel?" Jackson's voice was quiet, encouraging. Now Robert pulled away. He didn't want to be bound to these people, any more than they wanted him. Black and white. Right and wrong.
"We better go, Doctor Jackson. We've got a universe waiting for us." He shouldered his pack, mind back on his duties. There was a package waiting for him under the DHD. Focus on the job. He had work to do and a planet to save. He was right and he was doing the right thing.
Right?
- - - - -
Cancer (June 21 - July 22)
Money will come from an unexpected source. If you put it in a mesh bag and run it through the washer, you'll get most of the smell out.
- - - - -
Colonel Robert Makepeace sighed as he looked around the base. The NID had offered him a choice role in the shaping of the Earth's future. Liaison, they called it. Travel off world with SG teams. Scout potential new sources of technology and act as a courier for the items that the NID teams had... liberated from alien sources.
It was good.
He could make a difference and follow the mandates of the program. Not the mandates of Doctor Jackson and the scientists... the true mission directives of the SGC... find and acquire alien technology in order to defend the Earth from the Goa'uld. He sighed, remembering the disdainful way Maybourne spoke about Jackson. He bore the scientist no particular ill-will. If anything, he respected him. He was only doing what he was trained to do.
Just like Makepeace.
There are things you are trained to do. You can be trained to obey. Trained to shoot. Even trained to kill. But defending what you love wasn't trained. It came from deep down. There were no options, you did what you had to do.
In the end, it wasn't about dogma and it wasn't about uncertain allies. It was about setting a goal and reaching it by whatever means necessary. O'Neill understood that. He was an old trooper, an old hand. He understood the price of freedom.
A stain on the hand to save a life. Save a country.
But could you save a soul?
He sighed again and pushed open the door to the locker room. It was good. In the end, that was all the comfort he had. It was good. In the long run, it might even be... right.
Daniel Jackson turned and looked at Makepeace as he came through the door. His inexplicably ancient blue eyes burned into Makepeace for a long moment until Robert found himself holding his breath. In that moment, he felt that Jackson knew. He had just plumbed the depths of the Marine's soul and found the truth.
And then he turned away.
"Should be a relatively quick operation, Colonel." Jackson fastened the straps of his pack. "Quick in and out with a short ground survey." All business. None of the easy banter of SG1 of old.
"Have you slept at all, Doctor Jackson?"
"I..." Now the scientist was confused, not wanting to like the interloper. Not wanting to relate.
"It's okay." He shrugged it off and tried to grin. "I had a few of those kinds of days myself."
"It gets easier?" The words were almost too soft to be heard.
Makepeace smiled. "You take consolation in the fact that you know you're right and that you're doing the right thing."
"And if you're wrong?" Somehow, Robert knew this conversation was no longer about him or the archaeologist.
"I guess you just hope like hell that someone will be waiting when you come to your senses... and that it's not too late when you do."
"Too late?" Those inquisitive eyes were on him again. He deflected, turning away to shield himself. There was a pause. "Colonel?" Jackson's voice was quiet, encouraging. Now Robert pulled away. He didn't want to be bound to these people, any more than they wanted him. Black and white. Right and wrong.
"We better go, Doctor Jackson. We've got a universe waiting for us." He shouldered his pack, mind back on his duties. There was a package waiting for him under the DHD. Focus on the job. He had work to do and a planet to save. He was right and he was doing the right thing.
Right?
