Part 8. Sweetening the Pot.
General George Hammond was accustomed to SG-1 and SG-101 encountering Jaffa. They were first contact teams, and despite every precaution taken to avoid the enemy, it was to be expected that they would occasionally crop up.
He did not expect it of SG-7.
As the Enkarans were once again being relocated, this time by Lotan, Hammond had sent his science and medical team in to survey the effects of the terraforming before P5S-381 became completely uninhabitable.
The fact that an alkesh showed up out of nowhere was, in itself, suspicious enough. The address had been taken from the Asgard library; there had never been any Goa'ould activity on the planet before, no sign the system lords had ever heard of it. But, Hammond reasoned, if the enemy was going to find it, it would be by ship.
He wasn't worried about Lotar. When the alien came back and finished his work, the planet would become uninhabitable and therefore of no colonization interest to the Goa'ould. And Lotar's ship had shields—Jack's failed naquadah bomb proved that. No doubt with warning, the Gadmeer would consider the Goa'ould a minor annoyance.
And SG-7 had escaped, if a little shaken and battered, without casualties.
But then Teal'c was captured on a visit to Chulak, and SG-11 encountered Jaffa at another address taken from the Asgard library. Teal'c was rescued later by SG-1, but Edwards came in hot, pulling his team back through the wormhole by the skin of their teeth.
The most telling part came from Edward's report. Despite nearly losing Duncan to a staff blast, Edward's assessment was clear: the Jaffa had not been using lethal force.
General George Hammond didn't need things spelled out for him. When he pulled them into his office on a Saturday morning, neither did either O'Neill.
"We're compromised," Jack said.
The words weighed heavily on Hammond. "From within."
J.C. stated the rest of the obvious. "They're trying to take SGC personnel captive."
"Except for Teal'c," Hammond said, "they've shown up places we've deemed safe for science teams."
"Looking to capture technology," Jack assessed. "And those who understand it."
"Softer targets," J.C. tossed out.
Officers were always a target, as the enemy sought to compromise methods and command protocols. They all knew the SGC was brass heavy. One didn't hand the kind of classified information they handled on a daily basis off to first year privates. While he couldn't predict how someone would react to switching bodies with a coworker, Hammond had staffed his crews with the experienced simply because he needed people who were mentally tough enough to handle bizarre situations and encounters. Therefore, any member of an off world team could compromise vital information.
But, science teams were larger, and they were, by default, full of geeks. Geeks tended to get involved with what they were doing, distracted by pretty sparklies. Which was why they were accompanied by marines whose sole purpose was not, as many scientists complained, to throw roadblocks in the way of discovery, but to make the scientists themselves as hard a target as possible.
"I cannot," Hammond said, "conscionably put another team in the field until we have this matter resolved. If I stop operations when the next team is due out on Monday morning, I could be tipping off our mole and losing our only advantage." Which was why he had called both colonels in for an unannounced meeting. "I need a solution, people."
"What else do we know?" Jack asked.
Hands folded on his desk, Hammond gave them the bare, ugly bones of it, laying out the facts he had, letting them draw their own conclusions, to see if they concurred with his own.
"Jaffa were waiting for Teal'c," Jack thought out loud. "But SG-7 and 11 were on planet several days."
"They came by ship," J.C. said. "The Goa'ould probably didn't have a gate address."
Jack followed. "Whatever the mole is using to transmit locations, they're not able to send details like an address."
"So they don't have a vo'cume."
"While we still don't know enough about the vo'cumes to replicate them," Hammond said, "science teams have discovered the subspace communicators give off an energy signature when in use. Scanners have been installed on base, so I'm certain whatever it is isn't being activated inside the SGC. Nevertheless, given the time required for hyperspace travel, and the out of the way locations of the targeted teams, the mole has to be using some kind of long range communication."
Eyebrows lifted, Jack and J.C. said together, "A homing signal."
"So," Jack followed, "they're moving off planet to activate whatever it is."
"How long," J.C. wondered, "between the time Teal'c decided to go back to Chulak and the time he went?"
"He put in a request on Wednesday, asking for the weekend. There were two teams to go off world before he left."
Checking the paperwork to see which ones, Jack asked, "Who overlaps with 7 and 11?"
Coming to it at last, Hammond opened a drawer, placing twelve thick personnel files in the center of his desk.
Reluctantly, Jack rested eyes on the stack of files. They had done their best to reduce the suspect pool through logic. Now began the distasteful task of looking at those familiar names.
Major Lorne was on top, followed by Captains Anderson and Lynch and two other marines. On the science missions that might be on planet for weeks, marines were cycled home every few days. These five were from different teams because marine units often tapped others for training or to supplement when members of a team was down. The list of overlapping marines was so short simply because neither SG-7 nor SG-11 had been on planet for more than a few days before Jaffa had been encountered.
Dr. Billings was no surprise, either, as the Bug Lady was often called upon to determine if the local insect life was going to eat anyone in their sleep. Send a marine in to face a horde of Jaffa, they don't bat an eyelid. Find a hairy little, multi-legged something in a sleeping bag, and listen to grown men scream like little girls. Despite the clerical acrobatics required to justify it, the presence of an entomologist on Hammond's deep space telemetry project was crucial.
The seventh file down in the stack was Samuel Carter's.
Deliberately placed, J.C. knew. Not at the top or the bottom to focus or diffuse suspicion, but obscured in the middle, after Hammond had seen her reaction to others. But she wasn't going to play favorites any more than Jack would have, and of all their suspects, Sam had a clearer possible motive than any of them. J.C. handed the file off to Jack. At his look, she said, "No one might know more about gate technology than the Goa'ould. Sam wants to get home. I can't eliminate him at this point." No one could. Her gut, now that was another matter. But you didn't argue gut with someone who didn't share it.
Jack set the file back on Hammond's desk. If it had belonged to his Sam, he would have kept his mouth shut, too. Vouching for anyone at this point was pointless.
"I can think of only one alternative to starting a witch hunt," Hammond said.
"Get them all off planet," Jack said, "and see how they draw the Goa'ould." Or if they did.
If their traitor wasn't one of those twelve people, they had a bigger problem than they thought, and Hammond would have no choice but to instigate a full scale shakedown of the SGC. "Monday morning," the general said, "Jack will lead a scheduled survey of P3C-125. I can adjust the expedition size to include all our suspects." Hammond opened another drawer, pulling out a battered Grell watch and placing it on his desk in front of J.C. "It is my intention to send you in early, let you set up for surveillance. If we're wrong and a vo'cume is involved, this will give you the opportunity to spot it."
And if they couldn't spot their mole activating any kind of device, then they would have a holdout in position to provide the survey team with some back up.
J.C. put the last file back on Hammond's desk. "If we're going to bait a trap, let's bait it with the best."
"SG-1," Jack said.
Any other time, J.C. might have jibed that he had named the second string, but there was no O'Neill playfulness here. "If it's Carter, Samantha would be the one to sell up the river. And if it isn't, we're laying a two-for temptation out there."
A two-for-one twice over, Hammond didn't need to point out. Not just key scientists, but two of his most experienced Majors as well. But, it did nothing for them if the pot wasn't sweet enough.
"General," J.C. said carefully, hoping her words sounded to Jack like nothing other than typical O'Neill overprotectiveness, "There's nothing of archaeological significance on this planet. Civilians might get in the way."
"Dr. Billings is a civilian," Jack pointed out.
"The Doctors Jackson are members of your teams," Hammond said, following J.C.'s reasoning. "It might arouse suspicion to leave them behind."
J.C. nodded reluctantly. She'd had to try.
After that, it didn't take them long to finalize what they were going to do.
That afternoon's beer and pizza night for SG-1 and 101 was a picnic at Little Springs Park. It was one of those rare, golden autumn days just warm enough for shorts while there was still daylight, cooler dusk driving everyone to the picnic fire. Janet and Cassie came, which lightened Samuel's mood. Jack made what he called hobo packs, wrapping spiced meat and vegetables in aluminum foil and putting them directly into the fire while everyone else divvied up for a football game.
Despite the casual, playful atmosphere of the gathering, it didn't take long for Daniel to realize something was up. In between the time she had taken that phone call summoning her back to the SGC that morning, and her arrival at the park, something had changed for Jacqueline.
And it wasn't just her. Both O'Neills stood slightly away from the fire, not quite opposing each other in the circle of their friends, but offset, as if distancing themselves. It was a similar pose they took when partnering on a watch, only now their eyes weren't constantly assessing their surroundings, but resting on the fire, lost in thought.
Both of them must have been called in, Daniel realized. For Hammond to interrupt a rare weekend off, it had to be for something pretty serious.
It was late when J.C. announced, "Think I'll take a week off."
Janet, who worried often about the sheer volume of unused vacation time that tended to stack up around the lead SG teams, said, "Everything going okay?"
"Just, ah, thinking I could use a little down time."
"We've got a big survey next week," Jack pointed out.
J.C. nodded, kicked at a leaf by her foot. "Hammond's tapping a couple teams for it. But Sammy and Dani can go with your team, right?"
"Are you abandoning me to babysit the geeks?"
"We're kind of redundant on this one, you and me. I think I can afford to sit this one out, maybe spend some time up at the cabin, get some fishing in."
Janet suggested, "Sounds like a good opportunity to take that boyfriend of yours for a little alone time."
"Eh."
Dani perked up at the carefully indifferent tone. "You two have a fight?"
"Nah. Just don't think he'll enjoy a week of fishing."
"Did he say that?" Daniel asked, he hoped not too pointedly.
A shrug. "Didn't ask."
"Not too promising, there, J.C.," Jack noted. At her look, "Not if you decided he doesn't like fishing. Next thing you know, you'll find out he doesn't like hockey."
J.C. considered. Daniel was usually reading something when she watched the games. "No, not a fan."
"No wonder you think he's temporary," Dani put in.
"What? I didn't say that."
"Oh, come on. It's been months and you haven't brought him around. Jack's right. If he doesn't like fishing or hockey, and you don't want to introduce him, you've pretty much decided it isn't going to last."
"We don't have to share everything, you know."
"It's fine, Jack. You're grown up enough, you can indulge in a fling."
"Oh for—you know, there's a reason I don't bring him over. A good one."
Yeah, thought Daniel, you're terrified of Jack. But then, he was in no position on that one to criticize.
"We can talk about things other than work," Samantha laid out her own motive for not bringing an occasional date. "Don't feel like you can't bring him because we won't be able to relax and enjoy down time."
J.C. was touched by the offer. "Thanks, Sam. But, you know, it's not you I'm protecting him from."
Jack pursed his mouth. "Protecting? Who needs protecting?"
Her eyes took on a more typical O'Neill mischievous glint. "Look, even if the man didn't wet his pants when Teal'c gave him the hairy eyebrow—yes, that one." J.C. pointed at the Jaffa brow that went up. "Even if he made it past that, don't think I don't know you," she pointed at her counterpart. "You're just waiting to get his name so you can give him a background check that makes a rectal probe look like just a handshake."
Innocently, "Moi?"
"Yes, you. But you," she pointed at each Jackson, "you two are the worst."
"Us?" Dani exchanged a look with Daniel.
"Yes, you two, with your innocent, wholesome faces and your pretty little blue eyes. Ten minutes with you and the poor bastard is pouring out a lifetime of secrets he doesn't even know he has. You think I want to subject my boyfriend to the Jackson equivalent of the Spanish Inquisition?"
"We're not that bad. Are we?"
Daniel pushed glasses back into place. "I don't think so." He was far more concerned with how neatly the two O'Neills had steered the conversation away from the real question. It struck him then: the two were working something. Working in the same way Jack had been working when he had stolen a piece of Tollan technology almost two years ago. Working them all.
And he knew from experience, from knowing both of them, whatever distasteful work they were up to, they were holding themselves apart because when the shit hit the fan, they didn't want it to splatter the rest of the team.
A knot formed in Daniel's gut. Crap.
J.C. drew on her beer. Daniel was looking entirely too thoughtful about all that. Since he wasn't really worried about meeting their friends, it was time to distract him from whatever was putting that little crease up there between his eyebrows. "You know what? If it's that important to you guys, we can settle this."
Daniel's heart jumped a little in panic as he realized what she had just said. Now? A little heads-up would have been nice.
"Oh, it's important," Jack said, thinking of the names he had put into the betting pool. "Vitally important."
"Fine," Jacqueline said. "I'll ask him if he's free next weekend."
"Will you, now?"
Dani pointed with a knitting needle. "You will so chicken out."
J.C. shot back, "Will not."
"Will too."
"Not."
"Too."
"Get with Reynolds and kiss your last bet goodbye."
"You mean it's not Williams?"
Not falling for the bait, "I don't talk to Reynolds. How would I know who you bet on?"
"You think you're so smart."
J.C. looked at the others. "Who's the scary one?"
Daniel thought it was Jack, but with everyone else, he agreed, "Dani."
"Next weekend," J.C. waved her empty bottle. "Just you wait and see."
Dani said, "Oh, I'm holding my breath."
It wasn't until they were packing up to leave that J.C. had a chance to pull Samuel aside, away from the others. "Got a second?"
As they stepped away, he opened hands. "Look, ma'am, I'm sorry about what I said."
She did a double take. "What?"
"About you settling in." At her blank look, "Back on P63-934."
"You're still thinking about that? You'd just taken it in the nuts, Carter. I didn't take it personally. Besides, you'll have to be a lot meaner than that if you want me to boo-hoo in my Fruit Loops."
"Oh."
Looking at him sharply, "Are we okay on that?"
Relieved that wasn't what she wanted to talk about, "Yes ma'am."
"Good." She glanced back at Jack, who was loading an ice chest in the back of his truck. "I need some help with something."
"What can I do?"
"It's a little, ah. Something I need you to keep quiet. Here." She reached in her pocket, turning so the others couldn't see what she pressed into his hand.
Samuel recognized his own handiwork on the old Grell watch. "I thought this went to Area 51."
"I intercepted it."
He looked at her. "Ma'am?"
"Put it in your pocket, Carter, before someone sees it."
Reflexively, he obeyed.
"They took it apart," she told him. "I need you to fix it."
"Ma'am?"
She had to respect his troubled frown. She would have been disappointed if he hadn't at least been concerned that his CO had apparently stolen a classified piece of technology. "Look, this isn't an order. If you can't do it for me, just give it back."
Both hands in pockets now. "Who else—?"
"No questions, Carter. The less you know, the better. Don't let anyone else see it. Will you fix it?"
Not, can you do it? But, will you? For her. No questions asked. Samuel slowly nodded.
"Thanks, Sam. I'll come by your house for it tomorrow."
He didn't say anything else as he walked back to his compact car.
Jack didn't miss the unhappy look on the man's face. He doubted J.C. had risked their operation and tipped Samuel off, but he had to wonder about the exchange.
Daniel spent the drive home and the rest of the evening worrying about what J.C. was up to. There was no point asking. Whatever it was, she couldn't talk about it. There was also the chance that, as with Jack's Tollan mission, they might be monitored. Not a thought he found very comforting.
So he said nothing when she came in, nothing as she showered away the picnic smoke so he wouldn't cough all night, and redressed for bed, slipping under the sheets next to him. Still holding herself slightly apart, he noted, their sides not quite touching.
In the darkness of his bedroom, she said, "I know you don't like fishing the way I do."
"Don't."
"It's true."
"I said, don't." He leaned up on a hand, clicked on the light. When she started to say something else, he put a fingertip on her mouth. "Don't lie to me." He watched the relief, then concern flicker in those chocolate eyes. He let that fingertip trace her lips, soothing. "I'll be here when you get back."
You're too damned perceptive for your own good. "What gave me away?"
If she could ask that, then she didn't think they were being monitored, at least. "Phone call," he enumerated on fingers. "If you were planning on a week away, you would have told me. You and Jack were just a little too coordinated. And despite what you think, I'd love to go fishing with you."
"Really?"
"Yes." Because it would be time with you.
"You think anyone else caught on?"
No need to tell her about her and Jack's telltale body language. If anyone else had picked up on it, they had wisely kept their mouths shut, and he didn't need to give away all his secrets. "I've had a little experience helping you with subterfuge."
A little frown. "Um. About next weekend."
"I'm not afraid of Jack." He reconsidered, added, "That much."
She reached up and touched that precious face. "It's these two archaeologists you should be afraid of. Clever. Insidious. And one of them can be a very, very bad boy."
"I like bad." That finally got a smile out of her. He could breathe again. Whatever it was she had to do, things were still right between them. When he turned out the light again, she curled along his back.
You're not bad at all, J.C. thought. You're good. You're certainly too good to me.
Hours later and across town, Jack blinked at the glowing dials of his alarm clock. 3:23 a.m. That couldn't have been his doorbell, could it? No. Just dreaming.
The doorbell sounded again, followed by a knock.
Okay. Light. Adjust sweatpants, shuffle down the hall. At another knock and he called, "Coming, coming! A little patience for the gray hair, all right?" Fumble the lock, open the door.
Samuel Carter stood on his doorstep, blinking in the sudden porch light. "Sir."
Not someone Jack O'Neill expected to see on his doorstep in the middle of the night. "Major?"
Hands in pockets, the younger man looked at his feet. "Could I talk to you, sir?"
Had J.C. said something, spurred his conscience? Was he coming here to confess? Coming fully alert, Jack stepped back. "Come in." Shut the door behind him, hit the living room light switch. "Have a seat, Carter. Forgive the mess."
Carter looked around before perching on the edge of one of the recliners. "Actually, it looks pretty clean, sir."
"Does it?" Jack blinked suspiciously at his living room. "Been gone a few days. Don't worry. It'll be back to normal soon." He took the couch, folded hands around a knee. "What's on your mind, son?"
Carter pushed fingers through thinning hair. "I need some help, sir."
Sadly, Jack felt a familiar weight settle in his gut. So, this was it after all. He just had to let the man play it out. "What can I do for you?"
"It's, ah, Colonel O'Neill, sir. The other one. My colonel."
"J.C.?"
A nod. Carter frowned. "She's done something, sir."
Well, this wasn't what he expected at all. "What happened?"
Samuel pulled the watch from his pocket.
O'Neill took it, recognizing the one from Hammond's desk. "Where'd you get this?"
"She asked me to repair it by tomorrow morning." Fingers twined, knuckles white. "She didn't want anyone else to know she had it."
"Did she say why?"
Samuel shook his head. Then, passionately, "I don't think it's malicious, sir. She wouldn't do anything to harm Stargate Command or anyone there. But." He swallowed.
He's been sick about this since the picnic. "But what?" Jack prompted.
Samuel took a breath. "She's worried about me, sir."
"Yes, she is." They all were.
"I think she might try something crazy because of me. That's the only thing I can think of that would make her—make her do something like this. I know she's not supposed to have it. But, she thinks I'm desperate, so I'm pretty sure she came up with some crazy idea that might help get us home. I don't know what, but maybe because you think the same way, you could help me figure it out. And maybe you can help me, help her, stop her before she goes too far. Believe me, sir, I know how important your respect is to her, and Hammond's respect, and I don't want her risking that, or losing it, because of me, because she tried to do something for me."
Not a confession after all. Rather, not the one he was expecting. Jack felt that stone in his gut slip away. Just a young officer worried about his CO. "I'm sure you're right," he said. "I'm sure it's not malicious." That much small comfort he could offer.
"It's still enough to get her in trouble, isn't it?"
Carter knew the answer to that just as well as he did, but Jack answered anyway. Careful not to hint at the necessary subterfuge. "If she's caught with it unauthorized, yes."
"I don't know what to do, sir. I could give it back to her without repairing it, tell her I couldn't fix it, maybe get her to tell me what she needed it for."
"Can you fix it?"
Since the only thing wrong with it was someone had put the battery crystal back in backwards, Samuel nodded.
Jack tapped the watch against his wrist thoughtfully. How to play this? "You know I have to get to the bottom of this."
"Yes, sir. But if anyone can help her, you can."
"And if you're wrong?"
Eyes hardened. "Then it's better you find out, sir."
Because the man understood duty and honor and what it meant to do the right thing, even if it meant choosing between his superior officer and his own integrity. And he came to me for help. Jack was really touched at the thought. "Thank you, Major, for trusting me with this."
"Sir."
"Can you trust me a little more?"
"Sir?"
"I want you to go ahead and repair it for her." He handed the contentious item back. "Can you do that?"
"Yes sir."
"You give it back to her, Major, and I'll take care of the rest."
Relief warred with uncertainty. At last Samuel nodded again.
Jack put a hand on his shoulder. "Good man."
J.C.'s cell phone went off at 3:52 a.m. Daniel fumbled it into the floor, had to roll halfway out of bed to fish for it, managed to hand it off, but not before the call went to voicemail. J.C. sighed, saw Jack's number, dialed back. A sticky mouthed, "What?"
Jack's voice, "Guess who was here?"
"You tell me."
"Your astrophysicist was worried about you."
"Yeah?"
A pause. "Carter's a good man."
Oh, yes he is. She couldn't have been more proud. Slowly, "Thanks, Jack. For calling." For letting her know Samuel was off the suspect list.
"Actually, I was kinda hoping the boyfriend would answer."
She hung up on him.
Daniel's sleepy voice, "Everything okay?"
She trailed fingers soothingly over his shoulders. "Yeah. Just took care of something."
"Let me guess: he was disappointed I didn't answer the phone?"
A chuckle, legs twining back with his. "You got our number, don't you, Jackson?"
"Someone has to keep you humble. Oh," he remembered, "there was some change in Reynold's pool. Someone put a dollar on me."
"Any idea who?"
"No. Happened last week some time. No one else followed up."
"For just a dollar, they're probably just hedging bets, even on the most unlikely candidates."
"Yeah. Someone even put a buck on Reynolds."
"Oh, poor Daniel. Feeling just a little invisible?"
A laugh. "Not when you do things like that with your fingers."
Innocently, "Was I doing something?"
Quickly, "I'm awake."
J.C. left right Daniel's after breakfast the next morning. She had to pick up the watch from Carter, get to base and double check her supply and equipment list and tack it on to Jack's, then make some noise about asking for the week off and putting the request on Hammond's desk.
Down in supply, the HK-SL8 was right where Hammond said it would be. She did a weapons check and got it stowed on Jack's FRED. Then she slipped out of the equipment rooms, taking a side trip by the cafeteria, and made a fond farewell to everyone, ostensibly leaving base.
Harriman answered the phone in the morning when she called in to confirm her vacation request.
When he reviewed the security tapes later, Hammond had to shudder at the efficiency with which his two colonels infiltrated his base that morning. What couldn't be achieved with the watch's limited phasing was done with a low drawn baseball cap, coordinated side steps into hallways or doors, and Jack's smooth interception and distraction. Everyone was used to the quirky colonel, so no one thought anything of a little extra coffee mug waving and nonsequitor greetings. J.C. was quickly ensconced behind the general's door, where she would wait for gate activation before a final dash out of phase to get through the gate when the MALP was sent.
She and Jack had radios with dedicated channels, but there was none of the usual O'Neill chatter. J.C. sent one double click, letting Jack know she was safely on the other side of the wormhole.
The hard part accomplished, Jack left the observation deck and went down to Teal'c's quarters. While he didn't explain everything, he needed extra eyes on the ground, and Teal'c would do as he asked without all the details or discussing it with anyone else.
Then Jack had an hour to kill before even the Jacksons showed up for breakfast.
"What are you doing here this early?" Dani wanted to know.
Always with the questions. Jack waved his third cup of coffee vaguely. "I thought I'd see how the working class lived, slum with the proletariat."
The Jacksons did that eye thing where they exchanged a look without turning their heads.
God, it was too early in the morning for Jack to see that. "You kids have fun now." He'd better get some decaf, hide out somewhere. Maybe drift by the labs. Oh, mistake—the geeks had gotten notice they were going on a field trip and were packing all their little geek gear. Someone might want him to lift something, and there would certainly be none of that.
Eventually 0700 rolled around and it was time for the Monday morning staff meeting. There were reports from departments, but, sadly, no one to play table football with. Assignments were handed out, further briefings scheduled, and Jack handed off his folder full of doodles for Harriman to file.
"I'm glad you find my reports so absorbing," Daniel said wryly.
"That was half as many doodles as I did last time," Jack pointed out.
"Just how much coffee have you had this morning?"
"Not as much as you've had."
"Why don't you hand me the coffee cup, before someone gets hurt?"
Jack pulled his mug of decaf closer to his chest. "Field coffee tomorrow."
"Good point."
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