Chapter 11

SGC, Control Room, two weeks later

George Hammond fingered the well-worn note in his pocket. He should have rewritten it in his own hand and destroyed it as soon as he opened up the mysterious envelope postmarked Paris and saw what it contained, but he couldn't bring himself to do it. Once he realized what he held and who had sent it, he had felt such a sense of relief that his legs almost gave out, and he had to reach back to the arm of the leather couch in his Washington apartment to keep from falling. He'd sat down and stared at the paper with its old-fashioned type for minutes, not even fully processing, at first, the message it contained: 1) Tka spoke of px—2 and travelers. Contact?; 2) ship from Melna?; 3) Gt to bylia gt; 4) if Tr returns: what last message; how long to respond; radio signals escape bh?

Hammond, despite everything he'd seen in his years, or perhaps because of it, was a religious man, and he thanked God right then and there and continued to give thanks afterward: He'd made it. Daniel Jackson was alive.

Up to that moment, Hammond hadn't allowed himself to hope. When he'd seen the report and photographs of the carnage at Dr. Jackson's house, he had feared the worst. What else could he think? Daniel was either dead or the prisoner of men who would not hesitate to do anything to reach their goals. For weeks afterward, George had woken up in the middle of the night with nightmare visions of his friend being tortured, screaming for help that never came, and he fully expected to hear any day that Daniel's body had been found.

The government searched for Daniel, but it wasn't with rescue in mind. The jackals had taken full advantage of the situation and had started a massive manhunt for a man they now labeled not only a traitor, but a murderer and told their people he was to be considered armed and dangerous. Hammond had lodged a protest, spoken to the President himself, and others who knew and worked with Daniel had done the same, but to no avail. Major Ferretti and Colonel Reynolds had been outraged by the charges and both had requested that their teams be assigned to lead a true, Earth-side, search-and-rescue mission. Hammond hadn't been able to grant the request, had been forbidden to do so, but he did ask Elizabeth Weir to assign Colonel Reynolds to ferret out any other moles that might be working still in the bowels of the mountain. Unfortunately the colonel's search turned up nothing and left too many questions unanswered. They had all been shocked by the revelation that one of the men killed at Dr. Jackson's house had been attached to SGC security, and Hammond's sense of responsibility for Daniel's fate had increased tenfold. What had Jorgans been doing there that night with two mercenaries wanted by Interpol and their own CIA? Who had he been working for?

A month passed, then six weeks, and they knew nothing more. There was no sign of Daniel. Hammond was forced to give his attention to his myriad responsibilities as head of Home World Security but, still, he remembered his promises to Daniel. Shortly after Daniel had disappeared, George himself had driven up to tell Cassie of the fate of SG-1. She had been devastated by Jack's death and the disappearance of Sam, Teal'c and Daniel, her only family left since Dr. Fraiser had herself died so tragically not even a year before. He'd taken her back to his elder daughter's house, and she and his granddaughters had slowly become a new surrogate family for the young girl. Hammond still visited her as often as possible.

And of course he'd made certain that the search for Major Carter and Teal'c continued. It was the least he could do for Daniel and for Colonel O'Neill. Gate travel had resumed, and Dr. Weir had been reassigned to lead the Atlantis expedition. Her replacement, Hank Landry, was a good man—no nonsense, did not suffer fools lightly—and probably just the leader the SGC needed after all the turmoil. Hammond knew he was overstepping by interfering in the handling of the search, but Landry had, far from protesting, made it a standing order that, as part of every mission, the teams were to seek out any information or any technology that might help them discover the fate of the last two members of SG-1. Landry knew—they both knew—that their efforts were likely in vain: everything pointed to Major Carter and Teal'c having disappeared into the black hole. But they continued to do what they could.

With no results.

Until now . . . maybe. Hammond thought about what was in Daniel's note. He didn't have to pull it out to look at it—he'd memorized it weeks before. If he were to be honest with himself, he only kept it as a talisman of sorts. If Daniel Jackson, by some miracle, had been alive to type it, then most certainly it would bring luck to anyone who held it.

Hammond had immediately pursued the first two of Daniel's suggestions, as he could easily reconcile the needs of the SGC and Earth with the effort made. They contacted the people of PX3-241, said by the Tok'ra to be great travelers, and the Ziroschoen had provided them with valuable information about the Gate network and even some addresses that they didn't have in their database, but the nomadic people knew nothing of travel beyond the galaxy. The SGC also stepped up the search for the ship spoken of by the people of Melnahotic, rumored to possess technology that rivaled that of the Ancients. The search had been going on sporadically for some years, and it came as a great surprise when a survey team had actually found the ship, buried beneath a temple. Unfortunately it had proved to be nothing more than an ancient Goa'uld vessel, lacking even hyperdrive. The historians and Daniel's old team of archaeologists were fascinated. For everyone else it had been a grave disappointment.

The other items, it had taken Hammond a while to sort out. Why would Daniel suggest they go to Byliason, a bleak planet at the edge of the galaxy that was little more than a barren rock? And why the strange phrasing: gate to the gate? And his questions for the Asgard, should they ever hear from that ancient race again, seemed like little more than stabs in the dark. If Hammond hadn't had complete faith in Dr. Jackson's brilliant mind and the intuitive leaps it took, he might have discounted the rest of the note as mere wishful thinking.

So, he'd made discrete inquiries of the scientists at the SGC concerning the gate at Byliason with the pretense of filling some holes left in an old report, and was surprised to receive an enthusiastic response by phone from a Dr. Kalai saying that he had only just, based on a theory of Major Carter's about the unique electromagnetic field of the planet and its location at the edge of the galaxy, figured out how to boost a transmission signal farther than they'd ever attempted and that maybe, eventually, they would be able to use the same theory to power the gate from there to other galaxies. Hammond understood just enough of what the man was saying to ask if they could use this discovery to increase their likelihood of contacting the Asgard, and Dr. Kalai, after a moment's hesitation, had said that yes, that might work if they. . . .

Hammond let the rest of the excited scientist's words slip past him as wondered how in the world Dr. Jackson had known about this research when Hammond hadn't, even though Hammond was supposed to know of everything that went on at the SGC.

"General Hammond?" Dr. Kalai asked, interrupting his thoughts, and Hammond realized that the man had finished his explanation. He cleared his throat, but before he could say anything, Kalai continued:

"Contacting the Asgard? I know we have been trying to contact them concerning the Antarctica data, but would that also be to ask them about Major Carter and Teal'c?"

"That had crossed my mind, yes, Doctor," Hammond responded.

"Oh, oh, I would be so pleased if my research could. . . ." The man stopped and seemed temporarily overcome.

"Doctor?" Hammond had asked kindly. He remembered the man he was talking to now: young, almost impossibly shy, blond hair so pale it was almost white.

"I would be so honored to do anything that may help them, sir," Dr. Kalai finally continued. "It would mean so much to all of us, and I know that Daniel, I mean Dr. Jackson. . . . Except for Major Carter, Dr. Jackson was one of the few people who ever asked me about this research, sir, and he would listen as if he were truly interested. Sometimes we're so isolated here, and it was nice to. . . . I never got to tell him how much that meant. . . . If my research could help. . . ." Dr. Kalai stuttered to a stop.

"I understand, son," Hammond had responded. "I agree. Dr. Jackson would be very pleased and not at all surprised, I'm sure, by your good work."

Dr. Kalai had sputtered his thanks, promising to have a report to General Landry on a new attempt to contact the Asgard by morning.

And now, almost two month's later, the Asgard had finally received the subspace message to contact the SGC, and Earth had in turn received a brief message to stand by in 12 Earth hours' time for contact from Thor. Hammond, with the blessings of the President and the Joint Chiefs, who were anxious to retrieve the data Thor had taken and to hold the Asgard accountable for the violation of their treaty, had flown out to Colorado Springs on the first military transport available.

He didn't, of course, give a rat's a** about the supposed treaty violation. George headed to the mountain because he was thrilled to have discovered that Thor and some of his great race still survived, and because he was anxious to fulfill Dr. Jackson's wish and transmit his questions. He again reminded himself that the likelihood that Major Carter and Teal'c were still alive was infinitesimal, and yet. . . . If Thor had survived, if Daniel had survived, couldn't another miracle occur? As Daniel had reminded him months before when this whole nightmare had begun, this was SG-1 they were talking about. And there was something else: Hammond had eventually realized why Daniel had wanted to ask the questions in his note. It was the only explanation that made sense: Daniel suspected that the story Thor had told him of Teal'c and Major Carter's demise that day was not the whole truth; he suspected that the Asgard were lying.

Hammond was torn from his thoughts by Walter Harriman's voice. "Receiving subspace communication, sirs," he said, glancing at General Hammond and General Landry before looking back at his console. "It's Supreme Commander Thor. The signal is weak but steady."

"Put him through, Sergeant," Landry responded.

Walter worked the keyboard, and the sound of static jumped out before the words, "This is Supreme Commander Thor of the Asgard Fleet. I apologize for not appearing in person, but our war with the replicators continues. I fear I have only a few moments before I must turn my attention back to that battle."

Landry nodded at Hammond to go ahead.

"Thor," he said, "this is General Hammond. Thank you for responding to our signal. I will be brief. First, I must ask you about the technology and data you took from Antarctica. As you know, that action was in direct violation of the treaty between our peoples." This last was said with clear apology in his tone, and he hoped that that would come across even in the static-filled signal.

"General Hammond, it is an honor to speak with you again," Thor said, and then, "I regret that I cannot yet travel to your galaxy to return the technology, but I am sending a data burst now with everything we have thus far learned from the data you have stored in Antarctica, some of which your scientists may well find useful. We have also discovered mention of what appears to be a weapon against the replicators, and our best scientists are studying this now. As we had hoped, the information received from Earth may well be our salvation, and for this the Asgard people are deeply grateful."

"Receiving data burst now," Walter said.

"Thor," Hammond said, Joint Chiefs be damned, "I and the people of Earth are more than pleased to know that any information we provided may help you defeat the replicators, and we thank you for the data you have just sent." Remembering his promise to be brief, Hammond added, "There is one more thing you may be able to do for us."

"I will do what I can, General."

"I know you have more pressing needs, but if you can find a way, I have three questions I would like you to pass on to the captain of the ship who responded to Major Carter and Teal'c's distress call—if he has survived." Hammond fingered the note again, seeing the shorthand type before his eyes.

Landry, Walter and the others in the control room looked at Hammond in surprise. He had of course told no one of the note, nor had he given a hint that he wished to ask about Teal'c and Carter.

"He has indeed survived," Thor answered, "and has played an integral part in both our battle and our development of the new weapon. What are your questions, General Hammond?"

"They are quite brief. We would like to know how long it took your ship to respond once it first heard the distress calls, what exactly that last message was and how that transmission may have escaped the pull of the black hole."

There was a brief, static-filled silence before Thor answered. "I see," he said, finally, and Hammond knew that Thor realized the import of the questions. "I will ask Captain Tyr myself. I regret that it may be some time before I can inform you of the answers, but I will do so as soon as I am able. I must depart now. The battle still rages."

"Of course, Thor," Hammond replied. "Our thoughts will be with you."

"Thank you, General," Thor responded. And then the transmission ended.

Well, thought Hammond. That is that. He'd done everything he could. Now all they could do, once again, was wait.

Brazilian rainforest, Upper Xingu Dig 17

She had made him laugh. Not that half-laugh and sad smile he'd give sometimes, but a full-out laugh and a smile that actually reached his eyes. More than six weeks after Jacques Perrault had first set foot in the camp, he'd actually laughed. Elena had felt a kind of a thrill to see Jacques light up for just a moment, and to see him look at her as if she were the most brilliant, funny person on the planet, and all over a joke about Egyptian and Mayan gods trying to read one another's handwriting. The moment had passed quickly, though, as the distant sound of thunder rolled across the hills and through the forest, and they had all rushed to roll out the tarps over the dig site and to pull their laptops and equipment undercover.

Now, under the rapidly darkening sky, as the first drops of rain started to fall, Elena looked from the kitchen, where most of the camp had gathered to wait out the storm, to Jacques's tent, where he had gone after giving Charles a little wave, and she took a chance. She headed for Jacques's tent, unzipped the flap and ducked inside.

Jacques sat on his cot in the dim light of the tent. He wore a white singlet, khakis and leather sandals. He was holding what looked like an old-fashioned journal open on his lap, a ball-point pen in his other hand. He looked up startled for a moment, then gave her a small smile. "Elena?" he said.

"Jacques," she said, then nothing more, letting the silence stretch.

There was another rumble of thunder, this time much closer, and the sky opened up. The raindrops began to drum on the canvas of the tent and set up cacophonous symphony on the tin roofs of the kitchen and the lab. There was a flash of light visible even inside the tent and a loud crack of thunder that made them both jump.

Elena laughed a little and raised her voice over the racket. "I was going to ask you to join us in the kitchen before the rain started," she said, "but. . . ." She gave a little wave of her hand.

Jacques continued to look at her with his unnerving blue eyes, and she almost wanted to step back his look was so intense, but instead she found herself taking a step forward. She could see his desire, could feel it.

But instead of coming toward her, then, he sighed and repeated her name, but his voice was filled with apology and regret: "Elena."

*****

Daniel looked at the woman who stood before him in his tent, staring back at him expectantly. She was so beautiful, so . . . Elena. What harm could it do to reach out and brush the hair from her eyes, to take her in his arms, to kiss that small frown from her lips. She took a step forward and he could almost feel the heat from where he sat, and he knew she felt it too, that they both had from almost the first time they'd set eyes on each other.

But he knew there were a thousand reasons he couldn't. The man she was attracted to was nothing but a figment of his imagination; his life was a lie. He'd have to leave soon, could not stay in one place too long, not with those dead-eyed men searching for him, ready to kill him and the people around him. And he had no right, he thought, to find that kind of happiness, not with Jack dead, Sam and Teal'c gone, Cassie alone.

"Elena," he said, longing and apology combined in his voice.

"Jacques," she said, and there was the smallest hint of a plea in her voice. "I know you feel it too. I'm not asking for a lifetime, Jacques. Just for this moment. Would that really be so terrible?"

Just for this moment, Daniel thought. Just for a moment, to forget the pain and the guilt and the loneliness. He looked at Elena. She was so beautiful, and it had been so long. Knowing in his heart that this wasn't just for a moment, that there was something between them that was more than a passion stirred by the storm outside, he let himself believe the lie: It was just this moment, just this little piece of time.

"No," he said, "it would not be so terrible." He put the journal he still held in his hand down on the cot and dropped the pen to the floor, then he rose, taking the two steps to where she stood, brown eyes open wide now, mouth open in a small O.

He pulled the scarf from her head, letting it fall, and ran his hand through her dark hair until it came to rest gently on the side of her face. Elena reached up and placed her hands on his chest, letting her fingers run lightly down to his stomach and he let out a long shuddering sigh. God, it had been so long.

Daniel drew Elena to him, then, and bent down to kiss her, and she pulled herself up on her toes to meet his lips. "Jacques," she whispered as they came together, and Daniel pretended not to hear the false name. It's just for this moment, he thought. There was no past, no future, just the rain coming down outside in torrents and the rolling, roaring thunder sending tremors through their souls.