Chapter Seven

Amelia pulled up outside the small single storey house and surveyed the street. Perfectly groomed lawns stretched along both sides of the street. It was Sunday and people were washing their cars, children were playing, neighbours were chatting. Not what she would have hoped for really. Anonymity worked better for her in situations like this. She took a deep breath, opened the car door and slid out. She automatically checked her weapon, grabbed her briefcase and headed for the door. She didn't get to knock. A short, slender blonde woman had opened the door before Amelia had even reached the steps.

"I have nothing to say!" The woman folded her arms across her chest defiantly. "I'm not going to give you an interview. He's my father, not an exciting story for a tabloid. You people are sick!"

Amelia held out her card. "Mrs Avery, I'm not here to drag your father across the newspapers. My name is Amelia Hendrik. I'm a consultant Neurologist seconded to the US Airforce. I just want to find out what happened and help your father if I can. It would perhaps be better if we didn't conduct our business in the street though."

The woman seemed to consider this for a moment, staring at the card that Amelia held out but not taking it from her. Her shoulders sagged. "My name is Madison," she said, finally. "Come inside."

Amelia quickly followed her inside and closed the door.

"I'm sorry, Doctor Hendrik. I've had all kinds of vultures knocking on my door since this happened."

"Please, call me Amelia and there's no need to apologise. I can imagine. All I want to do is help. If his actions were a result of a medical condition, then I will find it. From everything I've been told, your father was not an aggressive man."

"He wouldn't hurt a fly. Certainly, would never have hurt his family. We always wondered how he'd got on so well in the military. It just didn't seem like 'him' if you know what I mean." They walked through to the kitchen and Madison offered Amelia a seat at the kitchen table. "Can I get you something to drink? I just made lemonade."

Amelia accepted a glass. "I've been over his medical records from the base and I couldn't see that he reported anything out of the ordinary. It isn't uncommon, though, for dedicated military personnel to conceal anything that they think might threaten their career. Do you recall your father talking about headaches, dizziness…anything at all?"

Madison stared down into her lemonade, her expression flickering between resolve and conflict. Eventually, she looked up. "You said you're seconded to the Airforce. You're not military yourself?"

"Civilian," Amelia replied.

"If I tell you something, are you obligated to report it to them?"

Amelia shook her head. "I'm a doctor first and foremost. I only report back anything that might be relevant to the safety of other service personnel. If it has no bearing, then it has no need to be in my report."

Madison took a deep breath. "About a month ago he started talking about a secret project he was involved in. He said he wanted to tell me, but it would put me in danger. He said he was going to 'blow the lid off it' and he might not come out alive." Tears were welling in Madison's eyes. Amelia opened her briefcase on the pretext of handing Madison a tissue. She palmed a small glass vial and closed the briefcase again.

"You said that was a month ago."

Madison nodded. "It seemed to get worse. Rambling about alien technology and invasions. I honestly thought he was losing his mind. I begged him to go and see a doctor, but he insisted there was nothing wrong with him. The day he killed his wife…"

"Sorry…his wife?" Amelia interrupted.

"She was his second wife. Not my mother. The day he killed her, he called me. He told me that everything he'd said was the truth. That nobody would believe him, but he had a document. He'd hidden it but that it proved everything he was saying."

"Did you find it?" Amelia asked, her body tensing. Madison seemed like a nice woman, devastated by the recent horrific events but that wouldn't stop Amelia doing what was necessary to protect the project.

"No." She sighed and chewed her lower lip. Amelia waited. She had interviewed enough people to know there were two sure-fire ways of getting the information you needed. In this case, she was opting for the less labour intensive. Waiting and letting her subject talk. "I didn't look, to be honest. I think his mind snapped. I don't know what he was involved in, but someone should put a stop to it before it does the same thing to other good men. He swore he didn't touch her. Swore to me that it was someone else, sending him a warning to keep his mouth shut but the police investigated and there was no evidence that there had been anyone else in the house." She stared into her glass and then suddenly looked up. "He did keep a…a sort of diary."

"Do you have it?" Amelia asked. Madison nodded, stood and vanished into the hallway. Amelia shuffled the vial further up her fingers and coughed to disguise the sound as she snapped the top off.

"As I say," Madison said as she returned with the cheap spiral bound notepad in her hand. "I've had a look through and it just seems to be…well rambling and random pictures if I'm honest but you might see something that I've overlooked."

"May I take this with me?" Amelia asked as she took the book from Madison. The woman nodded. "Thank you for your time, Madison." She picked up her glass and finished the lemonade, carefully watching as Madison did the same.

"Are you going to speak with my father?" Madison asked.

"Yes, I plan to go in the next couple of days." She stood and made her way to the door. The two women shook hands.

"Doctor Hendrik, when you see him ask him about 'trust'. He kept going on and on about trust and how it was the reason he was in this mess. It seemed important and I just wondered if…I don't really know. The psychiatrist suggested that his wife was cheating but there was just no way…"

Amelia forced a smile and nodded. "I'll do that. Thank you. I'll be in touch."

The door was closed by the time Amelia reached her car. She slipped inside and pulled out her phone. It rang twice before it was answered at the other end.

"She doesn't know anything for certain but she said her father had a document. If it exists, we need to find it. I need to see him." Amelia said.

"Make it soon, Hendrik. I need to know what he knows. For now, they just think he's a madman. We might need to neutralise the threat though," the voice on the other end asked.

"She gave me a notepad. I'll read through and then I'll pay him a visit."

"And the daughter? She'll not be any trouble?"

"No."

"Did anyone see you visiting her?"

"Half the street. It's Sunday and it's a beautiful day. That, and she yelled at me from the door before I even got up the driveway but they'll assume I was another reporter. There have been a few of them hanging about according to Madison."

"Keep your head down, Hendrik. We can't afford any mistakes."

"I know what I'm doing!" she snapped. She did, and until recently she had never questioned it.

.

Mitchell paced the briefing room, intermittently looking at his watch and the door. He wasn't sure if he was irritated by her tardiness or hoping that she wouldn't turn up at all. He heard her footfall on the steps as she entered from the operations room and his stomach lurched.

"You're late," he said, taking his seat and shoving a copy of the mission briefing across the table to her. He couldn't look at her.

"I was early actually so I went to observe the embarkation of SG15. Jason very kindly offered to take me with the team, but I felt that I could be more useful where you're going."

"Jason?" he mumbled under his breath but said nothing more on the subject. Instead, he launched into a speech he'd spent half the night thinking about. The other half had been spent tossing and turning in bed, trying to push out the memories that had resurfaced and shut off long since buried emotions that were churning inside him. After a sleepless night, part of him was regretting not agreeing to have Amelia travel with a different team.

"Off-world travel can be a bit rough. We don't know what we're going to find on the other side. It's important that the team work as a unit which means obeying instructions. Don't wander off. Don't eat anything or drink anything that you didn't take through with you. Don't go trying to be a hero. It's a desert planet. You'll need to make sure you wear the right kit. There's a list in the folder. Make sure you stick to it. The planet is susceptible to sandstorms. If you end up in the middle of one of those, you'll be glad you listened to me."

"Very considerate," she replied.

He looked up from the folder, meeting her gaze for the first time since she had entered the room. "When I said that you needed to do as you're instructed, I meant it. You'll be safe enough if you obey orders, don't ask questions and watch your back. I've not lost a man yet and I don't want you being the first. It's hard enough having to take civilians through…"

"I didn't want to go at all, remember?" she interrupted.

He nodded. "Any questions?"

"Plenty," she replied. "Will I be issued with a firearm?"

"No, not this time."

"Wait! This time? I don't plan on making a habit of this. I'm not a part of your band of merry men. I'm a doctor and my work is here, on Earth in a medical unit. I'm really not comfortable..." Her fear was tangible.

"You'll be fine. As I said, first time can be a bit rough…"

"I'm more concerned about what we're going to find on the other side – assuming we make it to the other side and our atoms aren't rearranged into something from an Alien movie. You've seen the state of Velez. You saw how Munroe was going to attack Doctor Kaufmann. If the people on that planet are suffering from the same thing then they could be aggressive…murderous even. We don't know if this condition is progressive."

"The MALP showed nothing near the gate and there's sure as hell nowhere to hide."

She sighed, rolling her eyes and giving up. "You'll be armed though, right?"

Mitchell chuckled and shook his head. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

A memory jolted in the back of her mind. Those same words. The first time she had ever ridden a horse. The first time he'd taken her home to meet his parents.

"I thought you said you were brought up in the country? You must have ridden horses." Mitchell had cried as he'd helped her into the saddle of the chestnut stallion.

"It was a cottage, Cam. Not a bloody country estate. I've never been near a horse."

"I'm not going to let anything happen to you," he had reassured her.

"Anything else?" Mitchell's voice cut in.

"No," she said abstractedly.

"Are you sure you're okay?"

Her attention snapped back. "Fine. I'll meet you in the embarkation room in…" She glanced at her watch. "Half an hour."

"You know, we just call it the gate room," he smiled.

.

Amelia stared at the watery blue circle shimmering before her. Jackson had already vanished. Colonel Carter and Vala were already halfway up the ramp but she was almost certain her boots had been glued to the floor. Mitchell glanced at her from the corner of his eye.

"Time to move, Hendrik," he said as he watched Carter and Vala follow Jackson through the gate. As he moved past her his hand accidentally caught hers and her heart skipped. She cursed in her head. She was done with him, she told herself. No going back.

"Right," Amelia said. She took a deep breath and walked up the ramp. Tentatively, she reached out and touched the fluid-like barrier.

"It won't hurt a bit," Mitchell said, shoving her through and following immediately behind.

She emerged on the other side staggering and dropped to her knees, promptly throwing up her breakfast. Carter squatted beside her and put a comforting hand on her shoulder. Amelia's jacket was open and as she knelt, Carter was sure she caught a glimpse of a concealed holster.

"First time's always the worst. I'm surprised Mitchell didn't warn you though," she said, casting a censorious look at Mitchell who simply rolled his eyes.

"He did. I underestimated how bad," Amelia she said as she pulled herself to her feet and rinsed her mouth out with water from the canister she'd been given, spitting it onto the floor.

"Alright, boys and girls, let's move out," Mitchell said, setting off at a march. Carter and Vala quickly followed but Amelia hesitated for a moment, looking around, taking in the surroundings.

"We're not tourists, Doctor Hendrik," Mitchell yelled to her, walking backwards as he watched her.

"I think that rather depends on your definition, Colonel Mitchell," Amelia bit back.

He turned away and continued walking. Jackson looked at him for a moment, appearing determined to speak but unable to bring himself to do so.

"What?" Mitchell said staring straight ahead.

"Bit harsh? It's her first time off-world. I remember the first time you went through."

Mitchell glanced at him but continue silently at his marching pace.

"What's going on with you two?" Jackson ventured.

"Nothing," Mitchell replied.

"Come on, Mitchell. I'm not blind."

"It's a long story and this isn't the time," Mitchell replied, picking up his pace.

Carter shrugged as she joined Jackson. "I don't know what's got into him. He's so..." she began.

"I do and she's right behind us," Vala whispered. Carter frowned and shook her head. "Oh, come on. Don't tell me I'm the only one who's noticed. I think there's something going on between Colonel Mitchell and the good doctor."

"I can tell you what I did notice," Carter whispered to Jackson. "Our Doctor Hendrik is armed."

.

Amelia jogged to catch up, her eyes still searching and a frown furrowing her brow. Finally, in the distance, she could see what appeared to be a settlement. It looked like something from a film set. A huge pair of wooden gates stood open in the protective walls and Amelia could see movement within. She discreetly felt for her weapon. As they entered the town, the people seemed not to notice them as they went about their business, wandering slowly- a little too slowly Amelia thought, around the town square. Ramshackle buildings nestled against the outer wall. Most were wooden, with rooves that seemed unlikely to shelter the inhabitants. At the far end, beyond the town square and the communal well, was a larger building made of stone. Amelia squinted and raised her hand to her forehead to block the sun as she gazed around. In the distance stood a large grey stone building. It appeared to sit both within and beyond the walls, going back further than Amelia could see. As she stared, a panel in the door slid open. She heard the sound of metal grinding against metal as it slammed shut again.

"Colonel Mitchell," she called out without removing her eyes from the door in the distance. There was no answer. She turned around and found herself alone. "Great, thanks a lot," she mumbled to herself. She pulled the rucksack from her back and withdrew some clear plastic tubes.

Unscrewing the yellow lids, she approached the well. Carefully, she drew the wooden bucket to the top and dipped the tube in, collecting a sample of the less than appealing water. She placed it into a foam lined box to protect it and then repeated the exercise with the sand at her feet. She'd have the lab run tests when they returned to the SGC. She stuffed the box back into her rucksack and brushed her hands off on her trousers. As she looked up she noticed that the door in the grey stone wall was ajar. She glanced around. The rest of SG1 seemed otherwise occupied. She considered for a moment, staring at fixedly at the door ahead of her until curiosity got the better of her.

Cautiously, she made her way across the town square, her heavy black boots sank into the soft, powdery sand. She withdrew the Glock 17 she had concealed in her waistband and took the ten steps at the front of the building two at a time. Holding the weapon steady in her right hand she gently pushed the door further open. She realised that the door was not wood, as it appeared. It was metal. Relieved the hinges didn't give her away, she moved inside. Pressing her back against the wall, she pointed the gun towards the door and pushed it closed. She felt herself relax a little when she discovered nobody was hiding behind it. As her eyes became accustomed to the limited light she was able to take in her surroundings. It looked exactly as she had expected it to from the outside. A relatively large room with grey stone walls and floor. There was a narrow staircase visible through a low doorway at the far side of the room. To the left, there was a corridor. It would have been the perfect medieval setting except for one thing. The light, although dim, was not coming from traditional fiery torches. It was coming from an artificial power source. With cautious step, she made her way along the corridor. Her boots didn't make a sound against the stone slabs. Her eyes darted left and right, looking for a doorway but the walls were solid. By the time she had reached the end of the corridor, her disappointment was almost palpable. A dead end. She stood perfectly still for a moment, listening. She held her breath, concentrating harder, then turned sharply towards the wall that blocked the end of the corridor. She raised her hand and touched it. It wasn't stone. It wasn't even rough. It was cold and smooth, metallic. She pushed. It didn't move. Steadily she ran her hands down the wall on either side. One of the stones moved. She re-holstered her gun and removed a hunting knife, ramming it behind the panel. It flipped open and she jumped back. Inside, there were a number of coloured crystals.

"Well, I doubt that King Arthur installed that," she muttered to herself.

"No, he didn't," came a low, forbidding voice. Amelia felt something press against her spine. "Please place the weapon on the floor and step away."

.

Mitchell looked around the village. The ill-fitting doors of the numerous houses were closed but he was sure that they were being watched and then he saw it. A small, black box shape, sat in the upper window of one of the houses. He walked closer and it moved, the sun glinting off the lens. CCTV, or a close approximation anyway. He looked over to Carter and spoke to her from the corner of his mouth.

"I don't think these guys put those up," he said.

"No, it seems a little out of place, doesn't it?" Carter replied.

"Colonel Mitchell," Vala called as she joined them. "Doctor Hendrik is…"

"She'll have to wait, Vala," Mitchell replied irritably then returned his attention to Carter. "They're all over,"

Vala pressed her lips together and waited. She watched him as he looked around the village, spotting more and more of the little black camera's, noting their positions in his mind.

"Right, Carter, Vala, Jackson, Hendrik," he called out. The group gathered together. Still, Vala remained silent. Mitchell's eyes went from face to face. He sighed and lowered his head for a moment, shaking it slowly. Raising his face again he turned from his colleagues and yelled out Amelia's name.

"She won't hear you," Vala said smugly.

"Why?" Mitchell asked.

"Because she disappeared inside that." She pointed to the building at the other end of the village.

"Damn it! That woman's enough to make a preacher cuss!" Mitchell said under his breath. "This is why I hate civilians."

"All civilians or just that one," Vala said, attempting her most innocent expression and failing. Mitchell glared at her and headed off through the square.