"So this isn't something strange that just sort of happened and could be talked about when the time is right?" Hayes said without anger or judgment. He was merely attempting to assess, or rather, assimilate, the situation.

"Uh, no sir," Adams said into the phone. He still had not come to grips with how this new president thought. "If Jackson had stayed on the planet that might have been the case, but apparently the situation is much more than we had initially anticipated."

"Uh-huh." The president leaned back into his chair and thought about how best to articulate his thoughts. "So our sending a team to Abydos that first time precipitated a chain of events that lead to our current situation."

"Uh, yes sir." Adams hesitated, unsure as to how best to proceed. "Clearly the gate goes to more than just one place. There is also clearly more than one, for lack of a better word, god among the stars. From what I can tell, they are focused on utter control of the galaxy, and as such, will seek to eliminate us."
"But we are not bent on galactic domination."

"No sir, however they view any technological civilization as a threat to their dominance."
"We also have a desire to destroy them."

"Sir?"

"What, you think that we would just sit back and let the dammed goa'uld enslave millions of humans?"

"When you put it like that…"

"I don't know how I'm putting it. On the one hand, it would be foolhardy to engage the goa'uld. On the other, these people deserve the right to self determination. Are we capable of not just defending against the goa'uld, but of defeating them?"

"I don't know sir. With limited resources, a few dozen men…"

""What? Oh, I see. Keep the stargate secret you mean. No I mean, if we could somehow mobilize the entirety of Earths resources against this threat, would we succeed?"

"I don't know sir. We have very little knowledge of what's out there. The enemy could number in the trillions for all we know. And that's not even considering their technology."

"So maybe were doomed and we just don't know it yet. How could we go about getting more information?"

"Well, there's really only one choice. We would have to send people through the gate. Besides being ricidulously dangerous, this would likely only bring attention to us. The only other option, unfortunately, would be to bury the gate and hope like hell that the goa'uld choose to ignore us."

"Those aren't very good options."

"No sir."

"Very well, I'll have to think about this. Is there anything else?"

"No sir."

"Alright. Let me know if anything comes up."

Henry Hayes hung up the phone. Damn, he thought to himself. If he was just some random civilian hearing about this, things would be easier. Sure, the news would be frightening and exhilarating, fantastic and horrifying, and that alone would be hard enough to deal with. However he was the one responsible for how the situation played out. All he wanted to do was be president, not become arbiter for the future of humanity. Damn the stargate.

After a minute though he abandoned that line of thought. It was no use complaining about his situation. He was here now, and he had to deal with it. It was easy to think ethically about the situation when dealing with it in the abstract. Hey, those bastards are holding humans as slaves? Let's kick their ass! It was equally terrifying to work through the problem realistically. An advanced, probably vast, alien empire that would happily destroy Earth? Nothing could be done against that. It would be pure idiocy to try and take that on. Sure, it makes for a valiant story, fighting a hopeless fight in name of righteousness. But ultimately, dying in defense of others without securing their safety does them no good. The best option seemed to be to try and hide – bury the gate, monitor the skies, and hope.

But Hayes was not a coward. He hated the idea of hiding. He tried to imagine a unified Earth, standing in defiance to the goa'uld. He quickly dismissed the idea as wishful thinking. If the stargate went public, there would be mass panic, hysteria, scathing accusations, mistrust, and hatred. In time, maybe in a few generations, people would get used to it, and then, maybe, they could unite. But the only thing that revelation would do now is cause harm, ultimately making it easier for the goa'uld to attack.

If they were to make a stand, it would be best to do it in secret. But then, what hope could a small organization have against the might of the goa'uld? Sure, they might be able to make certain tactical strikes, or possibly collect information, but the risks of failure, of capture and discovery? If the goa'uld weren't already looking for Earth, they certainly would be then. Not to mention what would happen if the stargate was leaked! That would be ten times worse than simply telling people about it. A lie admitted could be forgiven, but a lie uncovered? Not a chance.

Hiding would be the most sensible path to take. They could watch the skies for any threat and bury the gate. That would of course mean that if an attack did come, Earth would be completely defenseless. Maybe Hayes could prepare a statement or something that would be sent to other world leaders in case an alien craft was spotted. Maybe that would at least give them the chance to defend themselves. It probably wouldn't work, but it would be something. Dammit, no! Hiding would be ridiculous. There must be some way to mitigate the threat without having to rely on luck and hope. Maybe if we….?

The presidential brooding vacillated continuously between options, attack and defense, cowardice and bravery, hope and despair. Those who worked with Hayes noticed that he was markedly distracted. For days he would shut himself up in his office, where he could be seen pacing restlessly. He wasn't sleeping well, and had developed an uncharacteristically short temper. No matter how hard he tried, no matter how much he thought about it, he could not come to a decision.

/ / /

Adams had ordered a few radio and visual telescopes to be trained on the skies, to scan the edge of the solar system for unusual activity. He didn't phrase it quite like that, of course. He said that it was an exercise in faint signal detection. He commanded them to observe certain Oort cloud objects, and to attempt to pick up signals from the Voyager and Pioneer spacecraft. A few telescopes were simply told to scan the outer solar system in an attempt to discover unknown objects.

It was not unusual for strange assignments to come from Adams or others who worked on equally clandestine assignments. It was well known that they worked on top secret projects, and so the odd orders were accepted without comment. The only anomaly was that this time, instead of the reports going to some obscure office or random email account, the reports were to be kept strictly confidential and sent directly to Adams.

So Adams gathered up the reports, dismissing those that were clearly unnecessary for the task and thoroughly examining those that were. He started thinking about how to go about creating a world wide observation network. He spoke with leaders in the field, astronomers and telecommunications experts. He read reports on telescope design and capabilities. He started to hear rumors about his work, that the NSA or CIA or military were designing a new covert monitoring network. Adams let the rumors run wild. Besides, those agencies, and others, did have secret programs running, though his work was wholly unrelated.

Finally it became clear. While no one report was definitive, it was obvious that something was hanging out in the outer solar system. Honestly, he had not expected one single report to unambiguously reveal such information. He had deliberately set up his orders so that no one source would be able to piece together his intentions. He had worked too long in secrecy to make such a childish mistake. Ultimately his conclusion came from inference. Too many reports of odd things in the sky, blips on the monitor that would be there one night and gone the next. Often these sightings would happen far apart, far too far apart to be natural. Since no one besides him was looking for unnatural things, no one paid it any mind. It was just a part of the noise that one expects to see when looking for faint signals.

Nevertheless he had bade them report oddities and report the oddities they did, which was why Adams found himself waiting outside the door to the Oval Office, nervously fondling the briefcase holding the pertinent reports. He had requested to meet in person. It wasn't so much that he mistrusted the phone lines, but that he wanted to read the president, gauge his reactions. When he decided it was time to report his findings, Adams had to decide how he would report his findings. Ordinarily he would try and shape the meeting in a way that fit with his superiors thought processes. Unfortunately in this case, he did not know his superior all that well. Besides, there had never been a briefing quite as unique as the one he was planning. No, the only way he knew to proceed was by adopting the approach that he himself would want: Barebones facts without editorializing.

After an agonizing eternity the secretary waved him into the office. There were the usual pleasantries, Hayes being affable and congenial naturally. However, Adams noted the bags under the presidents eyes, the stress evident on his face. He quickly got down to business. While he didn't detail every report, he did highlight the more critical ones. Hayes listened carefully, saying little but nodding frequently. The briefing was short.

When he was done Adams sat back and watched his commander in chief. Hayes took a moment in quiet reflection. Adams was not one to shirk responsibility. You do not become a three star general in command of secret military operations by being unwilling to uphold ones own responsibility. In this case, however, Adams was quite glad that the decision, and thus the responsibility, fell to another. However, seeing how weighted the presidents shoulders were, he had a moment of doubt. That didn't change anything; Adams had no solution to the problem facing Earth.

Hayes had been pacing behind his desk. Now he was standing still, staring into the dark night of Washington that lay beyond his window. Only Hayes himself knew what he saw.

"What are our options?"

Shit.

"Well sir, it's clear that something, or rather, someone is visiting us."

"Yes, that would be an accurate summation of your report," Hayes growled.

"Uh, unfortunately that by itself tells us little."

Hayes glared at Adams over his shoulder.

"It's reasonable to assume that the goa'uld are monitoring us. While there hasn't been any sightings in that past thirty six hours, I think it would be foolhardy to assume that we are no longer under surveillance."

Hayes sighed. "What are our options?"

"We need more information."

"Dammit man."

"I think we should send a team to Abydos. Maybe they will find out more. They might not, but at least it's better than sitting here on our hands."

Hayes finally turned away from the window. "True enough. Ok, send a team. But this is to be strictly a, uh, fact finding mission. Get more information, nothing else. Is that understood?"

"Yes sir. I'll get right on it."

When Adams left Hayes resumed staring out the window. He imagined the people of this world, all their varied customs and traditions, the lives they led. He imagined the people of his own country, those he had sworn to protect. He imagined the people of this city, asleep in their beds or taking a late night break at the bar. He pictured his family, his brother and sisters, his children and grandchildren. He wondered if he had done the right thing. For the first time in years, Henry Hayes prayed.