A/N: Well! At the risk of making the Update Police even more popular among you…here is a new chapter, as promised. I will try my best to update twice weekly from now on, or at least once a week if I'm away.
Chapter 26: Off Base
The black SUV drove swiftly down the deserted highway, alone and inconspicuous in the copper light of sunrise. Inside, its passengers sat in thoughtful silence, lulled deep into their thoughts by the steady whirr of the wheels against the concrete. The crisp early-morning breeze crept in through a barely lowered side window, its subtle hum another note in the uniform background melody.
As they passed yet another rusty road sign, it was Vala who broke the silence:
"Think anyone has noticed we're gone yet?"
Her voice was unusually subdued; whether for keeping to some unwritten rule of stealth, or because she felt the circumstances were close to overwhelming, no one could tell.
"I don't see why they should have," Sam finally replied. "It's too early for anyone to check the sign-out records…and they have no reason to suspect any of us. Well," she amended after a second, with a shake of her head, "they'll probably be trying to keep an eye on you…"
Sam diplomatically trailed off, but Tomin's name hung unspoken in the air. Vala scoffed, still obviously displeased at their governments handling of the matter. Sitting next to her in the backseat, Mitchell gave her a sidelong glance, but chose not to comment. Instead, he met Daniel's gaze in the mirror.
"Step on it, Jackson, will you? They're gonna notice we're gone at some point. Doubt Landry will think we're out and about at this ungodly hour for your average fishing trip."
"It doesn't go any faster," Daniel replied with a touch of irritation. "It's just a car, not an F-22."
"We're almost there, anyway." In the right seat, Sam was consulting the map she had unfolded in her lap. "There should be an unmarked wood path in a few miles."
"Why would your people build a hush-hush, secret hangar in the middle of nowhere," Vala inquired with an arch of her eyebrows, "then make it show on a map? You Tau'ri aren't very good at being stealthy, are you?"
Daniel rolled his eyes at her in the rearview mirror, but did not get to shoot back a reply. Sitting to Vala's left and looking decidedly uncomfortable in the crammed backseat of the car, Teal'c had taken her question as seriously as he took all things. He cocked his head at her.
"I do not believe the location of the hangar was originally marked upon the map."
"Exit here, Daniel," Sam indicated, then proceeded to guide him through a series of turns along smaller side roads, until eventually they could spot what looked like a long-unused forest path at the side of the road. "We should leave the car somewhere out of sight. They're probably monitoring the area around the hangar."
"Hold it!"
Sam kept her face carefully neutral, as she eyed the guard with only a vague hint of interest. Behind him, she saw the massive hangar doors, closed and marked with an assortment of warnings.
"This is private property," the guard informed her with a look of distrust. The Odyssey was kept too far off the beaten path to account for any casual visitors. "Don't make any sudden moves," he warned.
As he beckoned one of his colleagues to join him, Sam held up her palms in a placating manner, and slowly reached inside her jacket for an ID.
"I'm Colonel Samantha Carter," she started in a casual tone. "My team and I are scheduled to take the Odyssey on a mission in two days. I'm here to install some necessary upgrades prior to that mission."
The two men exchanged a wary glance. The first took the ID she held up and studied it for a moment.
"We weren't informed of any of that, Ma'am," the second guard told her, his tone a hint more respectful after seeing her credentials.
Sam gave them a smile, and shrugged.
"It was a bit last minute," she admitted, "but Colonel Davidson is expecting me. I'll be working with Major Marks on implementing a new optimization algorithm for plotting trajectory vectors in hyperspace windows." She could see their eyes glaze over. "It's safer to run the program during the pre-mission test flight, so we can assess the arc deviations and readjust the hyperspace buffers to compensate for—"
"Alright, Ma'am," the second guard held up his hands. "We're just security. I'll escort you to Colonel Davidson and you can discuss the details of your assignment with him." He hesitated for a moment. "Ma'am, I have to ask you for any weapons…"
"I'm not carrying any," Sam replied, unzipping her jacket and holding her arms wide apart to prove it.
"Right. Well, this way, then, Ma'am." He led her to a smaller side-door and held it open for her, not so much for politeness as for caution.
"Thanks," she replied with a good-natures smile, and was pleased to see the guard relax a bit. It occurred to her that boarding the Odyssey might in fact be easier than she had thought. Of course, the tricky part of the plan was just coming up.
He had just known it!
General Landry looked through the report that ground-level security sent up twice daily. Usually, of course, the general made but a cursory perusal of the list of people who had signed in and out of the base, then quickly shoved the report at the bottom of the daily paperwork. That morning, however, he had had a hunch of what that name list would contain.
And surely enough, five names leapt out at him.
The whole of SG1 had signed out (Vala without permission, naturally) before sunrise.
Landry hesitated for a long moment, holding the paper with both hands and staring at it thoughtfully. SG1 was definitely not out on a morning hike. He would have bet his General's stars that they were in the process of breaking the rules somehow (and he had a pretty solid idea of how, too.) Their actions were illicit, reckless, openly defying orders and most likely illegal, and his obligation was to stop them by all means possible. Doing otherwise would have bordered on dereliction of duty.
Concealing vital information.
Facilitating a crime.
Treason.
Some stunt they had pulled on him. He fantasized for a second about assigning Mitchell to clean the restroom facilities for a whole year. It brought a content smile to his lips. Unfortunately, it was but a fancy—at least for the moment. Black on white, reality stared back at him from the page, in the form of five names along with sign-out hours.
He stared at the clock on his wall. Seven thirty-five a.m.
He never read reports that early in the morning. Breaking routine was bad for a man his age. With a hum of contentment, he put the report back on the pile of freshly stacked paperwork for the day.
On second thought…he took the file and shoved it at the bottom of the pile. Oops.
Technically, if he hadn't read the name list…
A knock interrupted his musings, and Landry looked up, straightened his back and invited whoever was outside his door to enter. A second later, he was greeted with the spluttering, dishevelled sight of SGC's very own IOA representative.
"General!"
"Mr. Woolsey. You're here early."
Privately, he wished he had thought to check the sign-in records that ground-level security had sent up. That way, he would have known not to answer the knock on the door.
"I demand to speak to Colonel Mitchell!" Woolsey stammered, looking hassled. "Or—or Dr. Jackson! Or—"
Landry leaned back in his chair with decided slowness.
"Mr. Woolsey, why on God's green Earth are you telling me that?" he replied with his best puzzled tone. "Do I look like a secretary? Get an airman to take you to their quarters, if you wish to speak with either of them."
"I did! None of them are in their quarters! I looked in Dr. Jackson's office, and Col. Carter's lab, I can't find any of them, anywhere!"
"Have you tried the mess hall? Breakfast is one of the day's highlights here at the SGC..."
"They're not there!" The little man looked all wound up, his back ramrod straight, shoulders shaking with agitation and little droplets of sweat gathering on his ample forehead. "General, I see what's going on here—I demand to speak to a member of SG1—"
"Well, as you can see—and you're welcome to check, of course—" Landry solicitously offered with a large wave of his hand, "they're not hiding under my desk, either. In fact," he added after a short pause, with a great nod of realization, "it's no wonder you have trouble finding them. Given that you are in my office, I'd say you've been looking in all the wrong places."
Woolsey pursed his lips and gave him a narrow-eyed, you-don't-fool-me look. Leaning forward in his chair and placing his hands on the desk, fingers interlaced, Landry returned his most obliging expression.
"They're not on base, are they?" the IOA representative spoke icily.
"Mr. Woolsey," the general gave a kind laugh, the one you would give a naively stubborn child, "where else would they be?"
The smaller man kept his irritated frown for a moment longer, then finally broke eye contact. Silently, resentfully, he turned his back on Landry and headed towards the door, but changed his mind halfway and turned his head to look at the general once more.
"I thought I'd be here in time…" he said in a perfectly emotionless tone. "I'd given them at least two days to come up with a way to completely disregard orders once again."
Landry held his gaze with the perfect deadpan.
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't," Woolsey sighed. For a moment, he looked like he wanted to argue some more, perhaps make a threat, then he shook his head and his shoulders visibly slumped. "Well…I guess I'll go look for Col. Mitchell some more."
"I'd consider breakfast, if I were you," Landry deadpanned. "I'll tell Walter to give you a voucher."
A/N: Big thanks to everyone who's reading this and to those of you who sent me their thoughts on the last chapter! I love hearing from you every time:)
Until next time!
Myosotis