A/N: This chapter is long. I battled with myself over whether or not to cut it-but in the end, I decided it can stay. It is cut in the middle artificially because there just isn't a way to divide it into two parts in a more logical way-sorry about it.

Chapter 11, part 1

The Fourth Recon Team wasn't scheduled to go off-world for a couple days after that—time enough to rest and submit their individual reports. Whatever its advancements in technology and science, Atlantis sure produced a lot of papers (although usually in digital form), bureaucracy taking up a huge chunk of everyone's time. Alice suspected that only Mr. Woolsey didn't mind it—maybe even liked it. He was an okay guy, but a weirdo by the City's standards—which, of course, were vastly different than those considered normal on Earth. Such a concentration of personalities, both military and civilian scientists, was bound to create its own culture. And so it had—and different even from the SGC or Groom Lake. On Atlantis, the community was much more closely knit, there was no big divide between soldiers, scientists and technicians. But more than that, within these groups, there was not much place for hierarchy either; of course, each department had its own internal structure, but in day-to-day goings-on, nobody much cared about it. And even though inside the military detachment ranks were still respected, they didn't have as much weight as anywhere else; what counted was what you had to say. It was almost a meritocracy—almost, but not quite. Poor Woolsey seemed, at times, very conscious of the fact that he was constantly surrounded by dozens of people smarter than himself—although he wasn't a dumbass either. It was just the comparison to the likes of McKay and Zelenka that hurt him—but then again, such comparison would hurt anyone, Alice thought.

She was, for once, not in the lab, but in her own room, sitting on the chaise longue with the balcony door wide open and the gentle breeze of the afternoon tousling her hair as she bent over her laptop. She had moved from the lab because McKay and Zelenka were working there—loudly so, exchanging ideas on one of McKay's projects. Well, it was more like McKay was throwing ideas and Zelenka was pointing out faults in them—but it seemed to work quite well for the two scientists. Unfortunately, it meant that anyone else in the room had to scuttle away or risk constant distraction. Alice chose to continue her research in her private quarter, but she was finding that even in the peace and quiet of loneliness, she wasn't able to focus properly. There was something nagging at her, some half-formed thought that she couldn't quite banish, nor flesh out enough to do something about it. It had to do with their last mission, but what was it? Frustrated, she flung the laptop away, closing it with a snap, and went outside to stand at the railing of her balcony and look over the City. The sun was already descending towards the horizon, but it would still be several hours until it set. Bathed in its warm glow, soft wind in her hair, Alice suddenly realized that—despite the moment of exasperation just then—she felt happy. Happy to be there, happy to be surrounded by colleagues and, even, friends, happy to be working on something that really mattered, happy to be helping with the fight in every small way she could—just happy to be alive. She still missed her family and friends on Earth, and she was still anxious about so many things—but the pervading fear that she would prove to be unworthy, that she would fail, that she would die—the fear that stifled every positive emotion—it was gone. It had been gone for a while—ever since that mission on M2F-221, where she had to face her worst nightmares—and she came out of it triumphant. Well, that was maybe a bit of an exaggeration, she thought, smiling. But the fact was, it took away the fear, and though she was sure she'd have plenty opportunities to feel afraid yet, she knew it would not immobilize nor overwhelm her again. She had faced it and she'd won. She may still fail, or die, or whatever—but she was not useless, she had a place here, and she was going to do everything in her power to leave a mark.

Heartened and filled with a new sense of purpose, Alice returned to her chaise longue and opened up the laptop, but she found that the nagging thought was not gone. What was it? It was as if she forgot something important—as if something obvious was staring her in the face, and yet she couldn't see it… She frowned, eyes staring into the distance, unseeing, but it still wouldn't come—oh, how frustrating it was! She was concentrating so hard that she didn't hear the first ring; only the second one finally managed to break through to her consciousness. Shaking her head to clear it, as if she just surfaced after plunging into deep water, Alice got to her feet and walked to the door.

"Bonsoir, Capitaine," said Perrault, standing on her threshold and smiling his usual tight-lipped smile. "May I come in?"

"Yes, sir, of course," Alice ushered him in, her eyebrows arched. The commandant hadn't been to visit her since nearly three weeks earlier, when he came to ask about her Uncle Alastar. They usually met in the mess hall, or gym, or shooting range, or conference room—he never sought her out specifically. "How can I help you, sir?" She asked as they sat down opposite each other, him on the loveseat and her on the chaise longue, reminiscent of that evening when she played her ukulele for him and Karim. She didn't offer him a beer this time—it was a bit early for that.

"Well, I actually 'ave a mission for you, Capitaine," Perrault replied, his expression half-amused and half-exasperated.

"For me?" What, just her? Not the entire team? Maybe he wanted her to ferry some people around—after all, she still was a pilot.

"Yes. You will be glad perhaps to know that we are sending you back to Earth for a few days," he announced, taking her by surprise. To Earth? What for? Surely it can't be connected to Uncle Alastar? Alice suppressed the urge to roll her eyes at the thought. Since she didn't say anything, Perrault continued, confirming her suspicion: "Following our previous conversation on this subject, it 'as been decided to tell your Uncle a cover story, but it didn't work very well."

"He didn't buy it?"

"No. And he got a few other deputies asking questions, too, though we think if he shuts up, they will too." Perrault shook his head. "He is pretty obstinate."

Alice almost smiled; it was delightful to hear someone say the word deputy when they meant representative, but then use obstinate correctly. Instead, she nodded. "That he is. But what do you want me to do?"

"It's been decided to tell him the truth after all. The people who have sold 'im the cover story, 'e is not going to believe them anymore, so General O'Neill had an idea that you and your brother could tell him. He would believe 'is own family, wouldn't 'e?"

Alice cocked her head to the side, thinking. Would Alastar believe his nephew and niece? They were the ones who started this whole mess—not by choice, of course, but still, in his head they were connected. And he was big about family; he loved his sister very much, even though she had defied her parents and married the poorly Navy lieutenant and not a wealthy catch they had prepared for her. When Eric Boyd had died and Eileen's illness had begun spiraling out of control, Alastar had stepped up and helped with the residential care facility's bills; he and his wife Moira had been frequent visitors and although Alastar had proven reluctant to the idea of taking his sister to live with them when she was being released, in the grand scheme of things, he was still a good brother who never abandoned his family. Alice didn't see eye to eye with him on many points, but they shared an understanding about the importance of one's family.

"I think he will be more likely to listen to us than someone he doesn't know," she replied after a moment of thoughtful silence.

"We think so too," Perrault nodded. "So we count on you and your brother to tell him what he needs to know, but also impress upon him the reason why it has to stay secret."

"I don't think he's crazy enough to want to spread it around," Alice laughed. "I mean, to outsiders, it would sound like he was delusional. He cares about his reputation too much."

"Whatever works," the commandant agreed and then stood up. Alice got to her feet, too, though much more leisurely than she used to. "You will go today, your brother will be waiting for you on the other side. They'll beam you to Washington where you'll get a specific briefing about what you're allowed to tell him and how."

"Yes, sir."

"Good luck," he wished her with a touch of a smile. Alice watched him leave the room and then started preparing to go home—for the first time in over two months. Most of that time was spent healing after the unfortunate events on the M2F-221, but nevertheless, Alice was surprised to learn that she had been on Atlantis that long—in a way, it felt much more than that.

"You look okay, sis, can we go already?" Jake whined from the corner of the room, where he sat on a chair, ramrod-straight, trying not to wrinkle his khaki uniform. He was holding a service cap in his lap, shoes shined to a high gloss, his many ribbons slightly askew on his chest. Alice spared him only a perfunctory glance and returned to the mirror, where she was checking if her own uniform was in order. Light blue shirt, navy blue jacket, tie tab, skirt. And accoutrements: the two silver bars of a captain on shoulder epaulets, shiny US badge pinned to both lapels, metal nametag with Boyd written on it in blue letters on the right breast, her pilot wings on the left, and just below them—three rows of ribbons (although the top row with only two instead of three, making it unbalanced). Her low-heeled dress boots shined almost as much as Jakes'—she never could get quite that level of glow he somehow managed on his. She nodded to herself, got her service cap from the table and turned around to look at her brother critically.

"Stand up," she told him and he grudgingly did. She straightened the ribbons on his chest, brushed a tiny dust speck off his shoulder and then nodded again. "Now we can go."

"You're a real prima donna, y'know?" He complained but followed her dutifully out of the room and down the stairs. They were silent as they descended towards the Inn's lobby, Alice remembering the previous day's attempt to talk to their Uncle Alastar—only to be turned away with nothing.

As promised, Jake had been waiting for her in the Gateroom as she stepped off the ramp, still impressed to be in the Pegasus galaxy one second, and back on Earth the next. Well, actually, about three seconds—which is how long it took to transfer the matter from one Gate to another, although for the traveler it seemed instantaneous. After an uncharacteristically demure greeting, as they were both in uniform, he had taken her out to the surface (since the SGC was shielded against Asgard transporting technology), to be beamed up to a BC-304—in all the rush, Alice didn't even ask which one, though since the Daedalus was on his way back from Pegasus, and the Odyssey still on its mysterious mission, it only left Apollo and Hammond—and then immediately down to the Pentagon.

They had appeared in an empty room, with nothing but a big conference table in the middle and some filing cabinets by the walls. It looked drab and gray, the only color brightening up the place was on their own uniforms. They'd been there only half a minute before the door opened, admitting no other but General O'Neill himself. He returned their salutes rather dismissively and told them to sit down. Alice was surprised that he decided to spare the time to brief them personally—but then again by all accounts he was a rather unpredictable character. Unburdened by the awkwardness that had accompanied their last meeting, Alice looked at him with interest; he was, after all, the biggest legend of the Stargate Program. He had a curious physiognomy that seemed to speak of contradictions: there was gray in his hair and his face was lined with time, but his body was strong and lean; his jawline was angular and hard, but there were crinkles around his eyes and mouth, betraying a propensity for laughter; his eyes seemed to sparkle with mirth—or maybe sarcasm, who knew?—but his lips formed a straight line. From the moment he started talking it was quite clear he didn't take himself too seriously, and Alice found herself starting to relax, recognizing the same sort of lax attitude towards regulations that she knew from Atlantis.

They didn't talk long, though. He outlined some general rules for them about what could and couldn't be shared and how, and gave them some general advice on how to handle themselves if backed into a corner.

"Do you think he will fall in line?" He asked eventually. "Or will he try to cause more trouble?"

Alice exchanged a quick look with Jake. "I think he'll be alright, sir. If nothing else, I don't think he'd like to be known for leaking secret government information—not of this magnitude."

"Good." O'Neill nodded and then got up, Alice and Jake leaping to their feet a second later. "If you have any issues convincing him... Well, we can always use the Apollo to beam him up and show him the truth."

"Yes, sir, thank you," Alice replied for both of them.

"There's a car waiting outside, it will take you to the Capitol Hill. Keep me posted!" With that, O'Neill turned around and left.

Alice and Jake didn't talk much in the car; they didn't know if the driver was in the Program, or if he was just assigned to get them there and back. The Capitol building was as daunting as the first time Alice had been there—a long time ago, as a tourist—but they didn't go in, instead turning south towards one of the House Office Buildings. It actually wasn't all that easy to find their way around to Alastar's office inside, either. And when they arrived there, they were told to wait outside for almost an hour—"The Congressman is on a conference call at the moment"—and when he finally emerged from his inner office, Alice was already a little frustrated. Alastar acted as if he didn't know how disrespectful it was—they had an appointment, after all!—and greeted them quite cheerfully, though there were false undertones in his voice when he invited them in and asked if they wanted to drink something.

"No, thank you, Uncle," Alice replied sternly in her best don't-fuck-with-me voice. "We're not here for a social visit, I'm afraid."

"So I gather." He smiled oily, but there was something in his eyes—was it outrage? Did he feel insulted? "The appointment was put in by the Pentagon. So you're here on orders. Came to feed me some more lies?" His smile turned icy now. "To shut me up? I am an elected official now, kids, I do not take orders from the military. You may have silenced Simon but I will not relent!"

Alice sighed. "Actually, Uncle, we came to tell you the truth."

"Uh-huh."

"They realized that the cover story they gave you did not work," Jake put in. They were all three still standing in the middle of the room, Alice and Jake holding their caps under their arms, Alastar with a glass of whiskey in his hand. "So they decided to tell you the truth."

"Ah, but whose truth?" The congressman saluted them with his drink and took a sip.

"It's not a plot or a ploy, Uncle," Alice assured him earnestly. "The order came straight from the President. He is the only one who can give you clearance for this information." And she handed him an official-looking letter with the seal of the President on top, and his personal signature at the bottom. As Alastar started reading, Alice continued: "They are reluctant to share this particular information with anyone who doesn't strictly have a need to know, and since you don't belong to any relevant House committees, you didn't have the need to know."

Alastar looked up from the letter and focused on Alice. "So there is someone in the House who knows?"

"Yes. But they are forbidden to talk about it. In fact, they were the ones who came to the President with concerns about your asking questions left and right."

"It's too important to jeopardize in any way," Jake added solemnly. "And when you do find out, you will understand why."

"But I have to stress that if we tell you and you repeat any of this to unauthorized people, or endanger the secrecy of the information, you could be prosecuted under the Espionage Act," Alice cautioned.

Alastar huffed and waved the letter. "Do you know what's in it?"

"No." They hadn't read it, and O'Neill didn't say.

"More of the same. Threats, only political ones." He folded the paper and threw it carelessly onto his desk behind him. It slid from it and rested on the carpet, but he didn't make a move to pick it up. Instead, he looked at Alice for a long time and then at Jake. "You two are in earnest?"

"Yes, Uncle," they said in unison and both snickered at each other. Alastar didn't smile, though. He looked pensive for a moment, and then declared:

"Alright, I'll listen. Under one condition. I have three other congressmen now involved in this. They will hear it all, too."

Alice looked up at him in alarm. "We don't have authorization for that. We can only tell you."

"Well, tough." Alastar took a big gulp of whiskey and then turned around to put the glass down on his desk.

"Don't be a dick, Uncle," Jake asked, visibly exasperated.

"Then don't treat me like a misbehaving child!" Alastar pivoted around to face them, his voice raised, his expression now seriously pissed. "I don't care what your generals want me to believe. I will not suffer such treatment! I am a member of the United States Congress and I will have the respect due to me!"

"You still don't get it, don't you?" Jake sounded angry, too, the knuckles on his fists whitening. "It's bigger than you! It's the single most important issue there is, and you're just too stubborn to see that we're just trying to protect it!"

"Protect it from who?!" Alastar's nostrils flared. "I am part of the government, how dare you suggest that I have anything else than the good of this country in mind?!"

"You're quick to jeopardize it!" Jake sneered and then opened his mouth to say something more, but stopped—Alice had put her hand on his shoulder. He threw her a sideways glance, saw her warning look, and let out a long breath, half-closing his eyes, relaxing his muscles, visibly stepping down.

"Let's not do this," Alice pleaded both of them and then turned to Alastar. "I understand your frustration, Uncle, I really do. I hate feeling left out, too. But Jake is not wrong, either. This is extremely important, and we cannot let it leak out to the general public. Your meddling has already stirred some trouble. Fortunately, we've gotten pretty good at quelling rumors," she added with a touch of bitterness. It wasn't what the government was for—it shouldn't be lying to its people. But what else was there to do? They couldn't risk what they've seen in the alternative universe happen here too.

Alastar laughed dryly, but he was calmer, too. "I have no intention of leaking it anywhere. But I do demand to know what's going on, and I think that my colleagues also have the right to know." Then he added reluctantly: "I was the one who recruited them to help me find out, and I owe them nothing less than the truth."

Alice nodded. It was actually a pretty convincing argument—and one stemming from basic human decency, too, which was rare with a politician. "Who are we talking about, specifically?"

Alastar eyed her suspiciously. "Why do you want to know?"

"I don't think we're going to resolve this right now. We really don't have the authorization to tell anyone else. We need to get back to our superiors. They will bring it up to the President and he will decide whether it is acceptable to extend the group of those who know."

"Good, you do that." Alastar nodded, his face smoother now. "Their names are Macmillan, Rather and Whitworth."

All junior Republicans, Alice knew, except for Macmillan who served on the House Foreign Affairs Committee, but was not usually noticed on the national level. Although, Alice had to admit, something might have changed in the last few months—they received news from Earth on Atlantis, but she was never too interested, preferring to catch up on a vast array of scientific journals instead.

"Thank you," she said to their uncle and he nodded in response. "We will be going now, then. Make sure you and those other three gentlemen don't have anything on schedule tomorrow that can't be cancelled at the last minute."

"Tomorrow?" He was surprised. "So fast?"

Alice shrugged. "It will depend on the President, of course, but we're eager to go back to our normal duties. This is just a side job." She smiled and was rewarded with an eye roll and a smile in return. Then they said their goodbyes and walked outside into the corridor.

"Sorry, sis, I should've kept my cool better," Jake said as soon as they were alone—or as alone as one could be in a busy hallway.

"I don't remember the last time I've seen you so riled up," Alice acknowledged as they started towards the exit at a leisurely pace.

"To be fair, Alastar has always been the one to piss me off royally," her brother admitted, but without his usual cheerful undertone. Alice wondered if he was thinking about their uncle's views on gays—and how it touched him personally. She didn't say anything, though. He still hadn't come out to her, and she wouldn't breach the subject herself.

There was a flurry of activity when they got back to the Pentagon. O'Neill was not happy about the three additional people, but Alice managed to convince him it was the only way. They had made a quick work of it—Alice and Jake had barely managed to check into the Air Force Inn—which was basically an Air Force–operated hotel—before there was a call from O'Neill's office that the President had given his approval to tell all four of the congressmen. The Pentagon had taken care of fixing another appointment the next day, and so Alice and Jake made their way to the Hill once again, this time in a rented car.

"I'll drive on the way back," Alice offered as they were walking up the steps to the office building just south of the Capitol.

"No way, sis. You drive like a maniac."

"I do not!" Alice was outraged. "I drive within the speed limit!"

"Yeah, and like a maniac." Jake grinned as he sped up ahead to hold the door open for her. "You accelerate from zero to fifty in under eight seconds. On an in-city freeway. That's mad."

"It's efficient," Alice defended herself, but she couldn't help but laugh. "What do you want from me, I'm a fighter jockey!"

"Hence the madness," Jake agreed, but they fell silent as they approached the security check. There was a young man waiting for them on the other side—a short and scrawny guy in a crinkled suit and with a tired face, clearly some sort of staffer. He walked towards them purposefully and extended his hand first to Jake and then Alice.

"Sir, ma'am, I'm Ronald Terrence, I'm Congressman Kelly's assistant," he greeted them. Alice and Jake exchanged amused expressions, but neither of them made any remark. "The congressman asked me to show you the way to the room."

"We've been here yesterday," Alice said, but as the staffer was already walking away, she and Jake followed him at a brisk pace. "We know where is his office."

"Yes, ma'am, but for this meeting he has booked a conference room which is in an altogether different part of the building," the man explained, looking at her over his shoulder.

"I see," Alice subsided with another significant look at Jake. He shook his head and they continued on in silence.

It wasn't that far from the entrance; in fact, Alice thought, it was much closer than Alastar's own office. Terrence ushered them through a huge oaken double door and they stood on the threshold for a few seconds, looking around. It was a grand room, luscious with dark red mahogany furniture and red upholstery, cream curtains in two huge windows, and a couple expensive paintings on the opposite wall. There was a big table at one end of the room—not quite the size of that in the conference room in Atlantis, but close—and a smaller coffee table surrounded by plush armchairs on the other, with a fully equipped bar behind, currently open, as one of the men was pouring whiskey into low glasses.

The four of them were standing around the bar, for the moment intent on the drinks. Aside from Alastar, Alice had never met any of them, but she knew them from the news: the young, tall, dark-haired Whitworth, who had gotten elected either on his good looks or his daddy's fortune; Rather, older and smaller—at least in height, if not width—had very fair skin and hair, so much so that it was hard to say if it was platinum blonde or gray; and the middle-aged Macmillan, looking strong and stately behind half-specs, wearing a scowl on his face; and of course Alastar, with auburn hair that was almost the same shade as Jake's, green-gray penetrating eyes, and a small beer-belly that protruded from above his designer trousers and a leather belt.

"Thank you, Mr. Terrence," Alice said to the staffer as they stepped in after the few seconds of gawking around. The man pulled the door shut behind them and Alice and Jake walked a couple paces inside, stopping a few feet away from the group of congressmen. Neither of them stood exactly at attention, but they straightened up somewhat, in a sign of respect. "Mr. Kelly, gentlemen. I'm Captain Alice Boyd, United States Air Force, and this is Staff Sergeant Jacob Boyd, United States Marine Corps."

"My niece and nephew, in other words," Alastar added with a smile that was much warmer than any emotion he'd shown the previous day. Alice suspected it wasn't his first glass of whiskey. "Kids, this is Ray Macmillan from Arizona, Thomas Rather from Alabama, and John Whitworth from Texas."

"Pleasure to meet you," Alice replied smoothly, not showing the sudden flare of anger at being addressed as kids when in official capacity. Each of the congressmen shook hands with her and Jake, exchanging pleasantries.

"Would you like something to drink?" Rather asked, pointing at the bar and the open bottle of whiskey on the counter.

"No, sir, thank you." What other profession allowed people to drink on the job? And it wasn't even two in the afternoon. Alice felt a bout of distaste, but she held that out from her face, too.

"Water, then?" With a dazzling smile and a heavy, drawling accent that made Alice think of Father Lawrence of Alternative Earth, Whitworth offered them each a bottle of Evian. This, they accepted, and then Alastar shepherded the whole group towards the table on the other side of the room. Alice thought he'd sit at the top of the table, but instead, he installed himself in the middle of one side, with Macmillan on his right, Rather and Whitworth on his left; Alice and Jake took seats opposite the congressmen.

"So. The truth," Alastar began, looking at his nephew and niece with a half-smile and one raised eyebrow. "Let's hear what's so important that your folk want to shut us all up."

Alice nodded, but before she spoke, she gazed at each of the men in turn for a few seconds, not really searching for anything, but rather building the tension.

"Before we begin," she finally said, "I have to once again impress upon you how very important it is to keep what I'm about to say secret. This is classified on the highest levels; in fact, a whole new level of classification had to be invented for this specific range of information."

"That's ridiculous," Rather interjected. "Classification is a matter of law, and laws have to pass through Congress. I think we'd notice if we had voted on something like this."

Alice smiled placidly. "You are correct, sir. This new standard falls within the Top Secret clearance with codeword classification, it just goes deeper than that. It is also shared with a number of other countries."

"Excuse me?" Macmillan looked at her from above his half-specs. He was from Foreign Affairs Committee, it was his playground.

"It's a joint operation, of sorts," Jake supplemented. "But equally highly classified in each of the participating countries."

"So it is an operation!" Alastar exclaimed with a triumphant gesture. "I knew it!"

Alice smirked and then threw a sideways glance at Jake. He nodded and produced something from his pocket, putting it on the table, roughly in the middle. It was a small round object made of shiny metal, flat on the outside but rising towards the center, where there was a cavity with a tiny crystal inside.

"What's that?" Alastar raised his eyebrows questioningly at the two servicemembers.

"It's called Chimera Optics Projection System," Alice explained, pulling a small metal remote from her own pocket; it, too, was finished with a minuscule crystal at the end. It didn't have any buttons, though.

"What?"

"It's a hologram," Jake clarified just as the two crystals—in the object on the table and in the remote in Alice's hand—lit up with a soft, blue glow.

"A hologram?" All four men were so intent on the metal circle that they jumped when something appeared above it suddenly. Hanging about a foot above the table, it was almost at the level of their eyes as they sat; it looked real, the colors were rich, and one could see the texture of the material. It was a metallic seal: a golden triangle with a downward-pointing black-and-red chevron beneath it, inscribed in a thick gold ring, with blue background and red letters SGC on top.

"Wow," Alastar breathed, enthralled. "It looks so real." Then he tentatively reached out with his hand and waved through the image. It flickered as he did so, bright blue light issuing from the places where his palm entered into the field, but it returned to its perfect state of mimicry as soon as he withdrew his arm.

"That's impossible," drawled Whitworth, but his voice and face expressed as much awe as the others. "I mean, I've seen holographic projections before, but none so vivid, and in such bright light!" In addition to the lamps above their heads, there was some sunshine coming through the windows behind Alice and Jake.

Alice smiled and nodded. "You wouldn't. Most commercially available holographic projectors lack for quality that proper laser lighting can ensure. But even those best in class are merely toys compared to Chimera, in terms of quality, efficiency, and portability."

"How does it work?" Alastar waved his hand through the SGC seal suspended above the table again, producing more blue light and some flickering.

"It's based on crystals technology," Alice replied succinctly. It wouldn't do to say anything more; it was a complex question, but more than that, it couldn't be properly explained without delving into specifics about the Asgard and the Ancients. This was their purpose there, but it had to be presented in the right order.

"That sounds like something from sci-fi," Rather commented shrewdly.

"For a good reason," Jake mumbled, but he just shook his head when Rather shot him a surprised look.

"If I may begin, gentlemen…" Alice cleared her throat and squeezed the remote tighter in her palm. "As you know, this all started with an incident in the Pentagon, two months ago, at the beginning of April. That incident was unfortunately witnessed by the newly promoted Brigadier General Simon Boyd, and his son Cadet Tobias Boyd. The two had been ordered to keep silent on what they've seen or implied from the incident, but it did pique Congressman's Kelly's attention, too."

"Who couldn't be ordered around and wouldn't stay silent!" Alastar interrupted proudly. Alice resisted the urge to roll her eyes on him and only nodded.

"The congressman began asking uncomfortable questions and included you, gentlemen, in his quest to find out the truth."

"We know all this, Captain, we don't need a recap," Macmillan chided.

"Yes, sir. I was just setting up some context." She paused for a moment, and then continued: "It was decided that in order to stop his inquiries, a cover story would be shared with Congressman Kelly. I believe you met with our superior, General O'Neill," Alice said to Alastar.

"Yeah, funny fellow. Couldn't even lie very convincingly." He shrugged. "I remember him from Simon's promotion party. He was much more polite this time. But his story was simply ridiculous."

"What did he tell you?" Jake asked curiously. O'Neill never said.

"That the incident, as you say, in the Pentagon was a foreign infiltration. Spies," he added with a huff, his nostrils flaring. "But I already knew too much. We had his name since the event, we've been looking him up. He's like a ghost, his personnel file is nearly empty. He worked black ops before dropping from the face of the Earth around twelve years ago. But there were rumors. And then there was this curious affair with Vice-President Kinsey."

Alice nodded; in 2003, O'Neill had been publicly named as the then-Senator Kinsey's murderer. It turned out to be a ploy by a rogue NID element; Kinsey survived, and O'Neill was exonerated. The event helped Kinsey in his political career, though, which had eventually borne him to the position of Vice-President of the United States. He resigned in disgrace not long after, although the reasons weren't publicly known—those being his ties to the Trust.

"We also had some other clues. Daedalus and Homeworld Command was what Simon overheard from you two," Alastar continued. "It wasn't easy but we've managed to ascertain that the Homeworld Command must be some secret department inside Pentagon, dealing with global threats. And the Daedalus is some kind of new weapons system being developed by the brains in Area 51."

"Close, quite close," Jake commented appreciatively. "But not exactly."

"We just don't know how any of this connects to the incident in the Pentagon," Macmillan added coolly.

"Well—" Alice looked at the four of them seriously again; it was time "—they are both part of the same program. We call it the Stargate Program, and it's an umbrella term that encompasses a wide range of operations and activities, including both the Homeworld Command and the Daedalus."

"Stargate?" Whitworth repeated slowly, tasting the word.

"Yes, sir. That's the source of it all, the Stargate." With one finger Alice caressed the side of the remote she was holding, and the SGC's seal suspended in the air before them faded into nothingness, replaced half a second later by a holographic representation of the Gate. It was only a foot high, but the image was so sharp that all details could be seen; every chevron, every carved line, every crack and scratch. It rotated gently on its axis.

The congressmen all leaned over the table to take a closer look. Alice didn't speak for a few seconds, allowing them to take in the 3D image, and building tension again. Make them curious, was O'Neill's advice. If they want to know more, they're less disposed to dispute what they've already heard. Alice was not a good public speaker—she was not a good speaker, period—but she'd picked up a few things here and there. One did not go through college and postgrad studies without learning how to present.

"This story has many beginnings," Alice commenced in a hushed tone, audible but quieter than her previous words. "It begun tens of millions of years ago with Alterans. Or perhaps ten thousand years ago in Egypt. But for our purposes, we will settle for the modern era: eighty one years ago."

She saw Alastar exchange a look and a smirk with Macmillan and for a moment lost her confidence. Was this the right way? Maybe she should just say it, without embellishing; but then she remembered her own introduction to the Program, how Carter had been preparing her for the shock with smaller bits of information first, and how much of a shock it had been anyhow. But Alice was an engineer and she had known theories about wormholes and hyperspace. These four were completely in the dark. She glimpsed Jake's encouraging nod—an infinitesimal one, for her eyes only—and took a deep breath. Her subsequent words were a bit louder than the introduction, but still delivered in a perfectly calm, almost serene manner—she thought she was being very Karim-like. It almost made her smile.

"In 1928, on a dig in Giza, an archeologist named Professor Paul Langford unearthed a strange artifact which had been buried in the sand for thousands of years. This artifact." She motioned towards the projection. "It wasn't until the early forties that the U.S. government took an interest in it." She paused, and was not disappointed: Alastar looked up at her and asked the obvious question.

"Why would the government take an interest in an archeological find?"

"It was made of an element not know on Earth," Alice explained. "And had—has—enormous power-harnessing capabilities. In short, it's a giant superconductor. And it has moving parts. It wasn't long before Professor Langford realized it was not just carved stone, but a device of some sort." She pressed her finger to the cool surface of the remote still in her hand and then directed it to the top of the table. The holographic representation of the Stargate moved that way in a smooth motion and hung in the air in front of the wall; another touch on the remote, and the projection started to grow, not losing any of the sharpness of image or feel of reality, but becoming bigger and bigger until it stood from floor to ceiling. "This still isn't the original size of the artifact," she added. "It's almost twenty-two feet in diameter and weighs about thirty-two tons."

"That's heavy," Whitworth murmured. "You said it's a device? What sort of device?" He seemed to be more engaged in the story than the other three—but then again he had a good ten years on Alastar, the second youngest from the group; actually, Whitworth was only a year or two older than Jake. You're in for a ride, boy, she thought sarcastically, but on the outside only nodded.

"At first, it was thought to be a weapon. The Air Force studied it for a while, but abandoned the project after an incident which resulted in a death of a scientist, or so they thought." She paused for a beat, and then continued: "After that, the Stargate was shut up in a warehouse, gathering dust, until early nineties, when the project was reactivated and research began anew. This was done at Doctor Catherine Langford's urging." She noted the raised eyebrows when they recognized the now-familiar last name. "She had witnessed her father unearth the artifact in Giza when she was a little girl. Later, she was engaged to be married to the scientist that she believed lost his life in the original experiments. It was also her idea to hire Doctor Daniel Jackson to help translate the stone covers that had accompanied the artifact." Alice pointed to the projection, which changed again; now a short, white-haired old woman stood at the top of the table, looking at them from above her glasses. As Alice spoke, a second figure appeared next to her: a mess of light brown, almost blonde hair, round specs, aloof expression—the Daniel Jackson Alice had never met: the one from nearly thirteen years past. "He was a failed archeologist and linguist whose theories about the Great Pyramids were mocked by virtually the entire scientific community. He claimed they were much older than what we've always thought, and not built by Egyptians at all." Alice smiled. "He was, of course, correct, but I'll come to that later. It was Doctor Jackson who did decipher the glyphs on the Stargate and realized they were not words, but constellations. Those constellations represent points in space, six of them, with a seventh being the point of origin." The two figures faded away and were replaced by the Gate again, with glyphs glowing to make it easier to notice them. "Thus, the secret of the Stargate was unlocked."

"Spare us the flowery language, please," Macmillan interjected. "What does it do?"

Alice hid a smirk. He wanted her to speak plainly—but he was listening and engaged, and that was the point of her flowery language.

"It creates a stable wormhole in subspace, capable of transporting matter between Gates across immeasurable distances." She paused again, observing her audience—a little stumped at the moment, she saw. None of them were looking at her, which was what she preferred—they were all staring at the hologram at the head of the table, which was just now changing again. The Stargate blurred away and six points appeared in the air, pulsating slightly; thin tentacles of light issued from them and connected the dots, creating an empty cube. As Alice talked, new lines streaked it diagonally, meeting in the exact center, creating a new point. "It takes six already-known points in space to determine the location of an unknown one. Constellations in the Milky Way are the reference points that identify where you wanna go." A new dot appeared a few feet away from the cube and another thin thread of light connected it with the central point inside the figure. "With the point of origin being Earth, you can chart a course through space that way." The cube flickered and faded into nothingness, while the two points connected with the silvery-blue strand of light grew larger, becoming planets—one blue, and the other the color of sand. "The Stargate is a device that creates the connection that allows us to travel to other worlds. Wherever there is another Gate, we can go. Across millions, billions of light years—"

"You're talking about science fiction," Whitworth cut her off, his eyes large and excited, but his voice sounded doubtful. Weirdly, his drawling accent was less pronounced now.

"Is this a joke, Allie?" Alastar asked condescendingly, though he was still looking at the projection. "A prank or something?"

Alice shook her head and suppressed the urge to roll her eyes. Did he really think that lowly of her?

Jake didn't manage to rein in his temper, though. "You really think we'd disrespect you, and our uniforms, by playing a practical joke on U.S. congressmen?" His voice was just a shade off of outrage.

"What's the alternative?" Macmillan shrugged, his specs so low on his nose that they threatened to slide off completely any minute. "It can't be real."

"It is the truth," Alice assured him. "I know how ridiculous it sounds, believe me. I was the same when they told me, at first. An Air Force Colonel was the one that tried to convince me, I didn't believe her, I thought I was delusional. But it is actually true."

"We can travel to other planets? Through a wormhole in space?" Alastar's voice was dripping in sarcasm.

"Yes," Jake confirmed, unfazed. "We—and I mean the military with some civilian assistance—have been doing so for the past thirteen years."

"Uh-huh."

"This is a waste of time," Rather pronounced, but he didn't make a move to stand up and leave. Instead he continued to look at the hologram.

"Well—" Jake shrugged "—you've cleared your schedules, you're here. Might as well continue listening."

They all grumbled unintelligibly, but as no one protested, Alice cleared her throat and picked up her story.

"1996 was when Doctor Jackson joined the Program and deciphered the meaning of the glyphs on the Stargate." As she spoke, the hologram vanished like smoke in the air, replaced once again by the image of the Stargate, with six glyphs glowing. It was, however, smaller than previously, hanging in the air just above the table. "With the seventh symbol being the only distinct one, for it represented no known constellation, as the point of origin, they dialed the Gate for the first time." The projection moved, silently replicating the process of dialing: the inner ring spinning around, chevrons engaging one by one, and then the kawoosh rushing out from the event horizon, startling the congressmen; Alice and Jake expected it but even they jumped almost imperceptibly. Then the surface of the wormhole stilled, the ripples making it akin to water. "A wormhole was established and a group of pioneers was sent to the other side. Among them, Doctor Daniel Jackson and the expedition leader, then-Colonel Jack O'Neill."

"The guy?" Alastar's half-formed question was clear enough, but Alice noted that he was no longer denying the reality of their claim—just listening intently.

"The very same," she confirmed. "The party went through the wormhole unscathed and landed on a planet called Abydos. It was a giant desert, but not completely devoid of life."

"Aliens? Seriously?" Macmillan actually rolled his eyes at that.

"Yes and no." Alice nodded towards the hologram, which changed again, showing the image of a young man with olive skin, dark brown dreads, and dressed in sand-colored clothes that could only be called rags by first world's standards. "There were people there. Humans who spoke a derivative of Ancient Egyptian. But there was also something else. An alien, hidden in a human body." She paused again, but as nobody protested or questioned this, she continued: "Do you remember what I said about this story having multiple beginnings? We now have to come back to another beginning. Around ten thousand years before Christ, Earth was visited by aliens. They came in ships and because they were much more advanced than our ancestors, they quickly subdued the population and installed themselves as rulers of the land. They took names of our ancient gods, and who were we, primitive and scared as we were, to deny their divinity? They could kill with a twitch of a hand, or heal wounds that would otherwise be fatal, or even bring back the dead—such was the power of their technology." She saw Whitworth mouth the word aliens, but once again, nobody interrupted. "These creatures were parasites, they entered the body of a host and latched onto their nervous system, completely taking over." As she said this, the hologram showed the image of a Goa'uld symbiote, floating in the air beside the Abydonian—and then, suddenly, it lashed out, pierced the man's neck, and burrowed inside. As it did so, the wound on the back closed, the man straightened and his eyes glowed. "A human host could do nothing. They were there, but they couldn't stop the alien from doing anything they wanted. They called themselves Goa'uld. At one point, they ruled almost the entire Earth—Egypt was their favored place, it seemed, but other cultures suffered their invasions as well."

"See, that's the illogical part—I think we'd know if there were aliens on Earth in the past," Alastar declared. Alice smiled.

"No, we wouldn't. It was twelve thousand years ago and they posed as gods. Not to mention that you can tell if someone is infested with a Goa'uld only if it chooses to show itself to you." The eyes of the holographic Abydonian glowed again. "There are traces of them, archeologists have been finding them for years, but you have to know to recognize them. And their history came down to us in myths."

"Why did they leave, then?" Whitworth asked eagerly.

"Not of their own volition." Alice allowed herself to smile again. "There was a rebellion around five thousand years ago. It ended the Goa'uld dominion on Earth, but by then, human population was already seeded throughout the galaxy, the Goa'uld having taken people from Earth to other planets, both via ships and the Stargates. The descendants of those people were the Abydonians that O'Neill's teams encountered when they first went through."

"Humans on other planets." Macmillan shook his head with a disgusted look on his face; of all of them, he seemed the least taken with the story. It was as if he couldn't believe he had to waste time for something this ridiculous.

"The Abydonians were ruled by a Goa'uld named Ra," Alice continued after a beat. "We know Ra as the Egyptian god of the sun, but he was real enough. Our team got into a fight with Ra's forces. See, Colonel O'Neill's orders were to go through, assess the risks, and if there was anything hostile, detonate a nuclear bomb on them. This, he accomplished—the nuke was sent up to Ra's ship and blew up, taking Ra and his entire entourage with him, leaving the people of Abydos finally free of oppression. However, after they returned, the project was once again scrubbed."

"Why?" It was—predictably—Whitworth who asked.

"At that point, the working theory was that there were only two Gates, one here and one on Abydos. It wasn't until a year later that this was proven incorrect. The Stargate was set to be moved back to storage, but at the time it remained in the bunker under the Cheyenne Mountain complex, guarded by marines. They were in the room when the Gate activated on its own and a hostile party stepped through—one of them looking very much like Ra had."

The hologram morphed again, showing Apophis at the height of his reign—proud and undefeated, splendid in his golden armor.

"The glowing eyes kinda make it," Jake added. "And the voice. Deeper than human, kinda creepy if you think about it."

Alice nodded. "All devices to appear more fearsome than they really were. The Ra-lookalike and his men killed the guarding marines and abducted one of them. That's when the new commander of the base, General George Hammond, called for Colonel O'Neill."

"I knew George Hammond!" Macmillan exclaimed. "But he worked in the Pentagon before retiring!"

"He did, later," Alice agreed. "In '97 he had taken the command of what was about to become Stargate Command. There was a cartouche on Abydos—a sort of map, left there by the Goa'uld, that pinpointed locations of hundreds of worlds. That's how we learned Stargate goes other places. The universe keeps expanding, so coordinates that were written down thousands of years ago were not usable until we adjusted for stellar drift."

"That's when it really begun," Jake supplemented. "That's when the Stargate Program was truly established."

"Per the President's orders, nine teams were created." Alice touched the remote again and Apophis disappeared, replaced by the younger versions of the members of the SG-1, the old one. "Their mission was to explore the galaxy, open and maintain diplomatic relations with other worlds, obtain technology to help defend the Earth, and broaden our scientific and historical understanding and knowledge."

"Wait, defend the Earth?" Alastar's eyebrows arched high onto his forehead. "From who?"

"The Goa'uld, at the time, mostly. And any other aggressors. The galaxy is full of creatures, and not all of them are friendly."

There was a moment of silence when they were digesting this news. But Alice wasn't willing to give them too much time to think about it.

"The flagship team was called SG-1 and consisted of Colonel O'Neill, then-Captain Samantha Carter, Doctor Daniel Jackson, and Teal'c." She paused for a brief moment again. "Teal'c is an alien. They are called Jaffa, a human-Goa'uld hybrid, created as the Goa'uld blunt force and incubators." The hologram changed again: the humans faded away, and Teal'c was brought closer, his stomach pouch opening, the snake-like creature rearing its head from inside. The congressmen all leaned away in disgust. "The young symbiote, a Goa'uld in its larval state, cannot enter a human host the way an adult one can. It needs a very specific environment to survive and grow. A Jaffa's pouch is what sustains it until it's big enough to take over a host. In return, the Jaffa receive strength, quicker cellular regeneration and immunity to virtually all pathogens."

"They're badass." Jake decided to put it more plainly. "Born warriors, heal very quickly and don't get sick for anything."

"But, like the humans taken from Earth, the Jaffa were slaves to the Goa'ulds," Alice explained. "They were dependant on the larvae, without them they would die quickly. That dependence was what kept them—the formidable military force that they were—under the Goa'uld heel for thousands of years."

"And you invited this guy to be a part of our flagship team?!" Alastar seemed offended by the notion. Alice pursed her lips in an effort not to smile. He was accepting her words—maybe not as definitive truth yet, but he was going along, and that was a good thing. Rather and Whitworth seemed to be up there with him, and only Macmillan still looked sour and unconvinced.

"He turned on his oppressors," Jake answered with gravity. "He pledged his allegiance to this world, and to our fight to liberate the galaxy from the scourge of the Goa'uld, and later other threats. To this day, he remains a vital part of our struggle for freedom and balance in the Milky Way, and he's been a great comrade in arms and friend. Besides, he no longer carries a Goa'uld. A Jaffa dies without a symbiote—unless they regularly take a replacement drug, called Tretonin, which was developed by the human population of the planet Pangar and later refined by one of our allies, the Tok'Ra. Teal'c was one of the first to take the drug."

"He's a bit of a legend in the Program," Alice added. "They all are, the original SG-1. In the past twelve years they have done so much, sacrificed so much to keep us all safe."

"Seem they've succeeded," Whitworth commented light-heartedly. He didn't seem to be too concerned about the idea of hostile aliens, though maybe he was just too incredulous.

"For the most part," Alice agreed, thinking about the Prior Plague which killed a few thousand people on Earth. "The fight with the Goa'uld went on for years, and it was pretty desperate for most of the time. They had the advantage of the home terrain—we were only slowly exploring the galaxy, and they'd known it for thousands of years. They had ships while we had to rely on the Stargate network alone. They had superior technology—although, admittedly, our bullets killed them eventually."

"You need a real packing punch to down a Goa'uld or a Jaffa," Jake supplemented. "And when they noticed us, they began improving their own tech to match our growth."

"Eventually, the hegemony of the Goa'uld ended, and it wasn't even that long ago—just four short years. Many good men and women laid down their lives to keep us safe here, and to free the galaxy from the Goa'uld oppression. There were many near misses, when our very planet's fate hung in the balance… but we always prevailed. In time, we learned more about the galaxy, and about ourselves. We found new technologies that we could adopt or copy for our own use, and we made friends and allies, as well as enemies. The galaxy is full of creatures, and we still continue to discover new worlds and new civilizations to this day." Alice looked carefully at her audience, gauging their interest and level of belief. Then she gestured towards Jake. "Sergeant Boyd is actually part of the SG-5, a combat marine unit whose job is mostly to provide backup and security. There are many different kinds of units taking up such tasks as: exploration, combat, medical, science, culture, support, relations with other planets…"

"And this SG-1… do they still exist?" Alastar asked, throwing a quick glance towards the hologram, still presenting Teal'c with his erstwhile larva sticking out of the pouch. Alice touched the remote and this rather unsavory image was replaced by silhouettes of the current SG-1: Mitchell, Jackson, Vala and Teal'c, minus Junior.