A/Ramble: I'm gonna miss these! *sniffle* who will listen to my bursts of random blabbering about the important things like work and sport and COMIC-CON? Good thing I got Live Journal. I also posted an SG video on YouTube that alludes to the alternate ending that MYOTOS will follow. In this AU, the US and USSR are walking on political eggshells with each other. Naslazhdaĭtesʹ!
~ 6 ~
2143h MSK
Saturday, 27th November, 2004
Lipetsk, USSR
In preparation for tonight's outing, I'm certain I went through every single non-uniform item of clothing possible: a futile expedition really, given the weather warranted boots, jeans and my lovely thick jacket. I fell into the trap in which most women find themselves. This is too dressy, that's too casual, this isn't warm enough, they always see me in green or blue. It doesn't really matter, but it's been a long while since I've deliberately sought to please the eyes of other men.
I miss it.
So now I find myself sitting around a table with Colonel O'Neill on my right, Marko on my left and a small handful of our friendlier counterparts, including Daniel Jackson. It's fun to toy with the idea of pursuing something deeper than friendship with Daniel, but I know I'd have as much luck with either of the men sitting beside me. Zip. But that's fine. There is safety in the regulations.
"I'm going to the bar; would you like another drink?" Marko asks, pulling me from my musings. My glass is still half full.
"Thank you, but I'm fine," I give me glass of Merlot a gentle wiggle.
I didn't expect this to become a habit, but it has. I normally wouldn't drink wine, but every time the occasion arises - infrequently, I assure you - in which the Colonel and I have a drink together, we order the same. If he's willing to play along, then so am I. I'm also starting to notice some of his 'bodyguard behaviours'; the way he'll always run off to go to the bathroom upon arriving at a new venue, when I know he's checking exits. I've also caught him inspecting my drinks, but not on every occasion.
In Marko's absence, Daniel takes accommodation of the seat beside me. Clearly he's had more than one drink, which is more than enough to loosen his tongue and increase his laughter.
"Hey, Sam?"
"Daniel..." I give him my best 'I'm listening' look and take a long sip of my drink. Once Daniel gets started, he's difficult to stop.
"I had an idea."
"And what's this idea of yours?"
"You know the thing..."
I smile widely and shake my head, "I probably do Daniel, but you'll have to be a little more specific."
Daniel lifts his beer and begins to draw a circle in the condensation left on the chipping vinyl table top. "That thing we like to look at during the day." His eyes come up to mine, only to drop down to the table while he continues to shape the tiny puddle. The artefact. 'Stargate' as Daniel had managed to identify it. He's being discreet, but the fact that he's brought this up here makes me question his sobriety.
"I know the one, Daniel. Can this wait until later?" I say in a quieter voice, in spite of the lack of attention we were receiving from our Soviet friends. I can feel the Colonel's eyes burning the back of my neck. He may not be looking, but he'd certainly be listening.
"Probably... Forget it."
A flash of sober concern glistens in his eyes and inflames my curiosity. I regret silencing him. Fortunately, he isn't so willing to give up his effort to relay whatever important information that's concerning him.
"It's a bit cold in here," he rubs his shoulder and looks to the fireplace across the room, "really need something to fire it up."
My brow twitches in a frown. Does he know something I don't? The thought momentarily offends my intellect but then again, Daniel is not only an expert of ancient cultures and dialects, but modern ones too. He picks up nuances of speech and behaviour that my own inspection cannot.
I jump at Marko's booming voice behind me.
"You will play Pyramid, Major Carter?" his hand on my shoulder urging me towards the billiard table. I can see the Colonel putting his drink on the table and begin to rise, but the wave of my hand sees him settle back into his seat. I'm still learning Moscow Pyramid and I wasn't completely keen on playing tonight, but Marko's never reallygiven me reason to worry. His ability to make the men currently using the table surrender it without protest does tie a knot in my stomach. I must scold myself for this apprehension! I'm an Air Force Major; I've earned my place beside very capable and commanding men. That sounds remarkably similar to the mantra I once used to spare my self esteem whenever I realised how much power Jonas had over me.
I find pyramid like a backwards game of billiards, at least where the colours are concerned. The cue ball is red and the rest are white, and depending on which variation of the game you're playing, the rules dramatically change. We're halfway through the game when Marko brings me up short with a sudden change of subject. At one point we're relaying some holiday memories, the next; he's close behind me with a serious warning.
"I would not be trying to make it work."
It takes me a moment to figure out to what he was referring. "What?"
"You know what I'm talking about, Major..."
"Why not? Tell me why I should stop trying."
"When refined, the compound gains significant characteristics that would be very useful in the wrong hands." He offers me the cue and continues to give his interest to our game, despite the nature of our conversation.
"Whose hands?"
"Ours." I fumble on the cue ball; looking down the table I see Jack watching me. Something in my expression must have aroused his suspicion because his cold demeanour quickly thaws. "Stop pushing, Captain. Accept that you will not make it work. It will not be allowed."
"But I can, I can make it work..." The words fall from my lips like water off a table's edge. Marko's silence frightens me. Eventually it breaks. His stern glare across the table falters and is replaced with conflict. I can almost hear the gears turning and the loud screech as they halt and his jaw tightens in resolve.
"It is getting late and I must not keep you. We need to return to base."
~ SJ ~
I should tell the Colonel. I have to. He needs to know exactly what Marko told me. It's hard to contain myself while the Russian in question is walking behind me, albeit engrossed in serious conversation with another female Officer. Given his determined silence, my Colonel is listening in. My Colonel.
"Good night Major, Colonel," Marko bids us with a firm nod. "I will see you at breakfast."
"Goodnight, Captain Mikheyev," I reply quietly. The Soviets disappear into the sprinkling snow until only the back of their black boots can be seen. Without hesitation, I grab the Colonel's sleeve and pull him into the dark corridor just inside our building.
"They're trying to refine the compound for weapons."
"What?" I'm not sure if he is confused by my rushed statement or understands my meaning perfectly.
"I mean, he didn't exactly spell it out for me, but that's the most obvious answer."
"Captain Mikheyev told you this?"
"Yes."
His features are shrouded in darkness but I can make out the deepening of his frown and the flare of his nostrils when he sighs pensively. He raises his wrist and presses a button on the side of his watch to illuminate the face. It's after midnight.
A faint light moving high on the wall behind the Colonel attracts our attention to the entrance. Two vehicles are slowly moving down the road towards our building. When they kill their headlights and the engines about a hundred yards away, I feel the Colonel's hand on my stomach, pushing me flush against the wall beside him.
No one has exited the vehicle yet, but I catch a glimpse of a shadow passing between two adjacent buildings.
His grip on my wrist is like a vice and I feel a pop in my shoulder when he begins pulling me down the corridor, passing our rooms.
"We gotta go," is all he says to me. I've got enough combat experience to detect the danger he senses, but I'm not sure I like being dragged around like a damsel in distress.
We carefully skid to a crouched halt at the opposite end of the accommodation block and the Colonel raises a finger, asking for silence. Again, I am pressed into the wall beside the door and his open hand orders me to stay. I will oblige him- Damnit! The man's trying to protect me; I need to shut up my newly awakened defiance. As a precaution, I pull the scarf around my neck up to cover my mouth, earning an approving nod from Colonel O'Neill. He beckons me to his side with a tilt of his head.
"Level three, hand to hand. Still remember?" he whispers so quietly I have to lean in to hear. I nod slowly. It's been a while but I was once an excellent fighter. "Good. Stay here."
He's out the door like a ghost, leaving me hugely vexed. I am not useless!
My anger will have to wait; there is a commotion outside. Frantic crunching of boots and snow. A grunt and a distinct snapping of bone that makes me want to twitch. It's the ping of a suppressed weapon discharging that causes me to lose my balance. In the same instant, I moved to stand and then crouch lower. The result is my knee hitting the door and pushing it open a fraction. I only get a few seconds to look at the man laying on in the snow... the snow. The blood looks black in the pale moon light. Snowflakes land on the growing puddle and disappear in the warming sludge.
There is another one only a few feet away.
I don't get the opportunity to ponder his demise because I'm being pulled very quickly to my feet, which slide on the wet cement.
It's unusually dark but we weave and glide between the buildings easily. How often has the Colonel traipsed these paths? He would know this base like the back of his hand by now. I hope. Lights begin to ignite in our building and outside, forcing us into the shadows. It doesn't escape that the Colonel is now carrying a sidearm, which I assume he took from one of the men who tried to enter our building. He's also picked up a small branch off the ground, most likely to attempt to conceal our tracks.
It's a quarter of a mile to the nearest part of the perimeter, across a flat and very open pasture. The risk would be too great. I point towards an enclosed yard that homes a lot of the disused armaments and vehicles in need of a service. After much cursing and forceful persuasion, the Colonel separates the chained gates enough for us to squeeze through. There is an increase in commotion and I'm immediately looking for a place to hide. A large pile of tyres against the fence that is covered by a thick green canvas catches my eye. The Colonel must agree because he follows my lead. It takes a joint effort to manoeuvre the canvas without disturbing the snow covering it, but we are soon underneath.
My mind is racing, but offering little sense. What happened?
I know what happened... sort of. I'd hate to think it was Marko's warning that catalysed the sudden turn in events. In likelihood it was, but would he have said something? Did one of the other Officers overhear us? What were they going to do to us if they managed to catch us? I admit, I'm impressed with the man lying beside me. I'm not sure if he killed both men, but I clearly haven't given him enough credit. He's been relatively inert since our arrival, but has sprung into silent action beautifully.
"What about Daniel?" I whisper to Jack, my breath shuddering with a full-bodied shiver.
"If he's lucky, he'll just get shipped home... We can't do anything about it."
We sit in cold silence for... I might guess about an hour, before a siren sounds throughout the base and the tumult outside escalates.
"We can't stay." I hear the canvas move and the way his speech changes, he must have turned his head towards me. "Ready to run?"
From your mouth, Colonel... "Only if you can keep up, Sir."
~ SJ ~
Finishing off the last chapter of 'Meet You On The Other Side'. Your emotions will become my playthings *Evil grin* And thank you everyone for reminding me that Sam is a Major. I will be updating sooner from now on. Such a large gap is unacceptable.
MUAHAHAHA
AWWWW :O scandalised!
I'm leaving this in!
Readers: Don't ask. Ignore us.
