** See Title Chapter for full story notes and disclaimers.

PART TEN NOTES: And the streak continues! Huge thanks to Kahuna and the many "Guests" who have reviewed so faithfully each week. You comments are greatly appreciated. I love reading them and hearing you enjoy the story.

To Lynette, rocking beta lady, thank you for the always insightful comments and suggestions. You always steer me in a better direction. To Annie, beta back-up awesomeness, thank you for the great assist. You both made this story a far better product. Any remaining mistakes are all on me.

As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.


Part Ten


PREVIOUSLY ON STARGATE: SG-1...

It was a waiting game of the worst kind. Glancing up once again, Jack met Martin's gaze. Something told him his late night coffee partner could read the worry hidden beneath the calm mask Jack had adopted somewhere around the time the second member of his Special Forces team had to be listed as KIA so many years ago. Martin nodded once then drained the remains of his coffee in one long pull but made no move to stand. The quiet continued unabated, a shiver running down Jack's spine. He'd always hated waiting.

AND NOW, PART TEN...


With a disgusted frown, Jack tossed the stack of papers away from him. How the hell was he supposed to concentrate on a freaking budget when a virus was silently lurking in the corridors just waiting to strike? He couldn't turn off his brain, couldn't force it to keep to the track he wanted it. You're getting soft, Jack, old man. The little voice came out of retirement to poke at his already fraying nerves. Times were you could be bleeding out your eyeballs and still get the job done. You're losing your edge.

Yeah, well, flying a desk would do that to a man. He refused to believe he was answering himself. And he wasn't making excuses either. He pulled the budget paperwork back toward him, determined to focus properly this time. He actually managed it for a whole minute, numbers and justifications dancing through his head when a knock broke his concentration. "What?" It wasn't the pleasant greeting he should probably use but he didn't really care at the moment.

The door opened and Maj. Davis stepped inside, closing it quietly behind him. "General, I hate to interrupt you, but I'd like to offer my services for whatever you need. I feel like I'm just extra weight dragging you down."

"Now that's not true in the least, Major." Jack held the other man's gaze steadily. Davis had started out in a rough spot with both Gen. Hammond and SG-1. His predecessor as liason with the Pentagon had been a back stabbing, ass kissing worm of a man and Jack had expected much of the same from anyone picked to replace him. And while Paul Davis had stood on the opposite side of the catastrophe of the week from SG-1, he'd done it out of logic and what he saw as the best solution. As much as Jack had hated his arguments, he had to acknowledge Davis hadn't come at them from a selfish perspective. They'd stood toe to toe on as many other occasions as they'd been perfectly in sync. Honestly, Jack admired the hell out of the man. It took guts to stand up to people three, four and sometimes five ranks above, and Davis had proved he was more than capable if the situation required it. "You don't weigh enough to drag us down."

The unexpected joke surprised a laugh out of Davis. He sat in one of the two chairs after Jack nodded toward them, his smile fading. "Thanks, sir. I think. But seriously, what can I do? The annual budget fight seems more than a little unimportant right now."

"I disagree, Major. What do you think I was just looking at? When we get ourselves out of this latest predicament," and he had to believe there was a when, "the money crunchers back east will still be expecting their budget on time. They don't care about highly contagious viruses." He'd meant it as another joke, one more funny to add to the collection against accountants the world over. It came out slightly bitter and not a little frustrated. Jack, you need to get some rest, he told himself. The trip to Antarctica, using the platform then flying back so quickly must have taken more out of him than he thought.

"I take it others have started showing symptoms?"

"Two of the 'Gate room guards and one of the medics. We officially have an alien virus." Silence fell and Jack let it simmer, let Davis absorb the news and all its gory repercussions. It didn't take anywhere near as long as he thought.

"I know you and everyone here at the SGC will do everything in their power to stop this, sir. I've seen you perform far more impossible things over the years." He paused, expression twisting around as if he wanted to say something but didn't know how it'd be received.

"Spit it out, Davis. Don't even pretend you're afraid to piss me off. Sometimes I think you live for that exact reaction."

The other man met his gaze steadily, face clearing. "I know it seems like it, sir, but it is my job after all. And yours is to send teams out to explore other worlds, gather intel, allies and resources to protect our planet. There are always consequences when working with the unknown and sometimes they're severe. But that doesn't mean we can simply hide here on our little planet and hope for the best. We've accepted the risks and hope for the rewards instead."

Jack's chest tightened, Davis's words reverberating through his head. He didn't need a translator to know what the other man was really saying. Davis knew he'd already been exposed to the virus, knew he wasn't one of the three potentially immune people. Jack's confirmation of the lockdown order had tied his fate with the SGC's. This wasn't the first time they'd been in this position, but it was the first situation they'd been over a barrel with less than nothing to go on. Davis had just forgiven Jack for preparing his death certificate. He looked away quickly, unable to meet the honest certainty in the green eyes any longer. "Yeah, but I think our ratio's been a bit off kilter for a long time."

"It'll swing back the other way. It always does."

"You have an astonishing sense of optimism, Major. Why don't we turn it onto these figures the pencil pushers laughingly call a budget?" He knew Davis wasn't fooled in the slightest by the obvious topic change, but there it was anyway. All the pretty words in the world wouldn't change the facts. SG-7 had brought a virus back to Earth, one the SGC-even with all its medical advances-never had a chance to prevent and had less than a snowball's idea of how to stop.

The budget, by far, was the lesser of two evils.


There were some moments-though admittedly they were few and far between-he wished he'd never set eyes on the Stargate. Over the years it had brought more pain and suffering to him than all but one instance in his life. But staring down at the giant ring from the briefing room, Jack found himself too drained to even wish things could have been different. What was, was. It was the one constant in his life, a lesson he'd learned the hard way many years ago. Even when he and Teal'c had been trapped in a time loop there had only been so many choices to take.

With a sigh, he turned away from the large windows, hands clasped securely behind his back. It wasn't the Stargate's fault. He was just in a mood to assign blame and the Stargate by its very nature was a supremely easy target. Until he could unleash his anger at the true source, it would have to do.

"Sir?"

The quiet voice snapped his attention to the doctor standing at the top of the stairs leading up from the control room. He shook himself mentally. She never should have made it up the noisy metal without him hearing it. "Any news on SG-7?"

"Yes, sir." She carried a folder in both hands, fingers clenched tight enough to leave white showing around the knuckles.

A sinking feeling grew in the pit of Jack's stomach. Whatever she had to say it wasn't going to be good. "Just spit out, doctor. It's not going to get any easier."

Nodding, she took a few more steps into the room to stand near the sprawling table, halting only a few feet from him. "Maj. Harris and his team have all slipped into comas. They haven't displayed any other side effects-no more fever, no sweating, no elevated heart rate." She looked down at the folder for a quick moment, as if gathering courage. "However, five other people have begun to display early symptoms of the disease. Fever, fatigue, dizziness. I know many illnesses can cause those same symptoms, but the timing and personnel are simply too coincidental."

"Who?" Jack held himself perfectly still. If he didn't move he couldn't pretend the stillness was a shield, separating him from the news. He could take Brightman's information and not simply dissolve. He could.

"Riker, Bailey, Cornwall, Astro and Martin."

Three more 'Gate guards and two supply personnel. The first people SG-7 would have come into contact with upon their return. His eyelids slid closed, his hands clenching into fists at his side. Hell, Martin. He knew as a commanding officer he wasn't supposed to have favorites, to hold any one person higher than another. But reality was a whole different story and he did have favorites, friends whose well-being he could not separate from his command. Reality also was Martin would not be the only one, merely the first. He swallowed harshly and forced the words past his throat. "Their status?"

"I've placed them in an isolation room and all medical personnel are using decon suits, but if these five really are infected..."

She didn't have to finish the sentence. If they were infected then everyone else within the SGC was as well. It was only a matter of time until they all started showing symptoms. Jack met her eyes, the folder trembling slightly in her hands. He wished he had something confident to say, anything to lift her hopes, but nothing came into his brain. She'd read the reports. Anything he could say would just be a lie.

After another long moment, she nodded, hugging the folder to her chest. "I'll keep you updated, sir."

At his stiff nod, Brightman turned and headed quickly down the stairs, leaving Jack alone in the silent room.

Riker, Bailey, Cornwall, Astro. Martin.

His frozen body shook as the names sank in. He knew each of them and not just as names under his command. He'd teased Cornwall just last Monday for his undying loyalty to the beleaguered football team of his home town of San Francisco. He'd seen pictures of Riker's new baby boy, only three weeks old. Bailey had given him the heads up on the Avalanche's benched forward and Astro had sneaked him the last piece of sweet potatoe pie when the head of the commissary staff had hidden it from him. He'd known there was one measley piece left and Brightman had put a gag order on the commissary. Desk duty had played hell with his blood pressure and she wanted it lowered before he could have his desserts back.

His eyes slid shut, fingers gripping so hard the knuckles began to ache deep inside. Not Martin. His fellow late night coffee addict could not be sick. The giant of a man had been with the SGC longer than even Jack. Only Hammond had surpassed his time on station. But the knowledge refused to be ignored. If they couldn't find a cure, his friend was dead. They were all dead. It was actually a minor miracle SG-7 was still breathing.

The virus lying dormant in Ayiana in Antarctica had spread through their small team in less than forty-eight hours. First the scientists who'd had direct contact with the Ancient woman, the others merely hours later. She'd given her life to save a group of people she couldn't even speak with. And while this strain had already passed the two day mark with only a few falling ill, Jack knew it was simply a matter of time. One infected became two, became four and so on until there was no one left unaffected. If Brightman was right, and Jack had to recognize she'd been spot on so far, he, Teal'c and Carter were the only ones with a possible immunity. There was no way to know for sure except to wait.

And there it was again. The damn word. Wait. Jack was beginning to hate the sound of it.

Turning abruptly, his limbs stiff from immobility held too long, he strode into his office. The damned blue folder sat in the center of his desk, the laptop shoved aside to make room. He flipped it open and spread every photo out on the smooth surface. There was something he was missing. There had to be. Now if only he could find it.

He stared down at the eerily familiar symbols and for the first time voluntarily opened his mind. If there was ever going to be a moment for his Ancient mojo to kick in, this was it. Yet the symbols remained silent, giving none of their secrets away.

That was all right. Jack had learned patience from a master. He wasn't going to give up that easily.


cont. in Part 11...