July 10 Cheyenne Mountain Level 27 08:45
A large conference table dominated the center of the room. By definition, the shape was octagonal, though, at first glance, one might see a rectangle. Wide enough to give the person seated here ample room to layout materials. Just past that expanse, shorter straight sides connected at forty-five-degree angles to where four empty chairs waited on each side. The heavily constructed conference table reflected the weighty decisions made over her. The design called for the expression of concrete facts and considered opinions. The outside four inches of a walnut border formed the perimeter of the table. As you move from the inlay toward the edge, a heavy leather writing surface surrounded a center eighteen inches of a deep walnut inlay. Omnidirectional microphones said in the exact center, waiting for spoken commands.
Directly behind the table's head, the four-foot by six-foot window provided a view into an office. The blinds opened allow visual access. The walnut desk held a red phone with one button, and an executive multiline phone waited for use. Several three-ring binders lay closed on the desk pad, red, black, yellow, and white with no identifying titles listed on them. The computer monitor showed only a screensaver that gave the impression of flying through a partly cloudy sky.
On the right side of the conference room, an open door led to a labeled down staircase. Closer to the head of the table on the right, a door opened to a short hallway—a matching entry on the left open to the empty office. At the far end on the right wall, a desk with a computer and the audiovisual controls waited for its operator. Mounted on the far wall, an eight by twelve-foot plasma screen dominated the area. A little bit further to the left spiral staircase open to a room below. Unless you stared directly down, the destination remained unseen. A set of closed steel shutters block the view of the knee-to-the-ceiling windows that dominated the left wall. Recessed fluorescent lighting filled the room. An industrial low-cut beige carpet covered the floor, diffusing any reflected light.
An order rang out from the hallway. "I need a status briefing in fifteen minutes," General George S. Hammond entered the conference room. He turned back toward the door to add, "and have the mess sendup coffee."
"Yes, General," the voice farther up the hall responded to the order.
Gen. Hammond paused, looking at the flags flanking the room. Slowly he walked toward the head of the table. He placed the stuffed portfolio down before taking a seat. The combined report in front of him contained details almost twelve hours old. Opening the cover, he placed the pen to his right and positioned his legal pad below it, a folder of photographs set above the portfolio and the statements obtained he laid out on the left side. He left the reports that generated his overview in their marked folders, red for CIA, black for FBI, yellow for DC Metro, white for NSA, and a green one from the NID. Having the NID share information provided a sense of foreboding.
Picking up the first photograph, he read the identifying tag. The Seidr Octahedron nagged at his senses in his posting at Stargate Command pyramidal shapes meant trouble. Now here was an engraved stone shaped like two square pyramids with those squares stuck together. He remembered his granddaughter Tessa had a game of this shape that was used for an eight-sided die. Refocusing, he concentrated on the picture the accompanying documentation stated the stone was excavated from a burial site on Greasholm Island in the Baltic Sea. Unearthed in 1936 by an expedition led by Herman Wirth, a Reichsführer-SS archaeologist out to prove that the foundations of Western civilization center around the Baltic. Dismissed as propaganda, the octahedron became lost to history in the closing months of World War II. The only known photograph displayed Norse runes, which could be loosely translated as how the "Seidr could shield the gifts of Loki from the powers granted by the first ones."
Four months ago, during a renovation at Berlin's Altes Museum, a hidden storage vault was discovered. An unknown curator had been moving items from exhibits on the museum floor into a series of vaults due to bombing raids during the Second World War. Crammed among the other artifacts lay the Seidr Octahedron. The runes on the remaining seven sides once again saw the light of day. What these runes were baffled, everyone. Except for two people Dr. Daniel Jackson and one Hermione Granger, a doctoral candidate from Oxford.
The octahedron became the centerpiece at a conference hosted at the Smithsonian. Teaser images released into the archeology community heightened speculation. The terms proto-Latin and proto-Etruscan caught the eyes of specific sections of the intelligence community who helped track Ancient artifacts found on Earth. Under the guise that it became necessary to imply that some terrorist organizations might use dead languages to exchange data. Some of the faces held the writing that had been first recorded by Dr. Littlefield on Heliopolis. Dr. Jackson jumped at the chance to examine the artifact and attempt to translate the wording.
Picking up the top packet, General Hammond poured through the combined analysis. Sometime around 22:15 EST, July 9, at least five individuals removed the octahedron after bypassing the alarms. Video surveillance showed doors opening and closing objects moving by themselves. Once the thieves gained access to the secure storage area, the video feed stopped. Examinations of the cameras showed that solid-state circuitry had been overwhelmed by some form of an electromagnetic pulse. Estimations based upon the localized area of damaged equipment, the effect was roughly a thirty-five-foot sphere. Unfortunately, the bodies of two security guards were found just outside the secured storage access door. The preliminary cause of death was blunt force trauma as both men had been propelled into the walls with such force that their bodies impacted the wall eight to ten feet above the floor. Pictures of the pair showed blood leaking from their ears, eyes, and noses. A detailed autopsy was underway, and results will be forwarded immediately upon conclusion.
That same night five minutes later, a separate team of four individuals entered the Global Luxury Suites Hotel near the National Mall. Two individuals encountered miss Granger as she was entering the elevator after a late-night swim in the pool. Video surveillance ended as soon as the doors closed. Seven minutes later, CCTV was restored. A similar localized EMP destroyed the televisions in miss Granger's room and the surrounding spaces. This was localized at 22:31. Upon entering the room, miss Granger's cell phone was found to be operational. The FBI was still trying to access the device. However, phone records show that her phone called an unknown number in London, England, at 22:30. The English authorities had yet provided who received that call. The connection lasted less than a minute. At 22:35, the entire Northwest corner of the hotel suffered its localized EMP. This one was measured to be approximately a one-hundred-foot sphere.
Three minutes later, surveillance cameras for the roof and third floor for the Hilton on the National Mall became locked in a seven-second loop. Five minutes later, the cameras started working again. On the third-floor ln suite, 317 Daniel Jackson was checking in via a secure video link with Stargate Command Security.
Last night at 0107 hours, 0307 hours in DC, contact was made from Dr. Jackson via the MTAC facilities at the Department of Defense. After delivering a cryptic message, Daniel paused. A Colonel stepped forward, informing General Hammond that Daniel was transported to Andrews Airfield, placed into an F-16D, and rushed back to Colorado by the president's order. Moments after the communication ended. The president's phone rang. Twenty-seven minutes later, Hammond sent to the infirmary for a bottle of TUMS.
He began reading Daniel's report. In the labeled revised second draft, he could see the first draft below. Fortunately, the archeologist's handwriting was clear and easy to read. A typed copy was being prepared, yet changes in the very writing's look could give insight to the author's thinking, still within the clutches of Dr. Fraiser in the infirmary. Strangely Daniel self-reported for an examination after personally giving Walter the report to deliver directly to him.
July 9 HILTON WASHINGTON DC NATIONAL MALL SUITE 317 22:35
"I believe that it would be in our best interest to have Hermione Granger vetted for potential inclusion for research support for the project." Daniel Jackson stared at the screen of the laptop, finding it eye-watering to avoid snickering. He hadn't been this giddy. Excited just wasn't the right term since the first dig he attended as an underclassman, remnants of an earthen mound believed to be from the Mississippi River Valley pyramid builders. "She seems to have an intuitive understanding not only Norse runic constructs but grasp on proto Latin and Etruscan." He glanced at the translation Hermione completed in their limited initial examination of the octahedron.
Gifts/offerings from the bright ones to her grandchildren's grandchildren.
Professor Hans Gruber loved the suspense. A devotee of anything related to Agatha Christie. Generally, his appreciation for the author led him down one of two paths. Of the two, the more palatable one was his diatribes about the differences between her play, "And Then There Were None" and the novel Ten Little Indians. Of course, Hans preferred using the original title, and it is now an infamously obscene racist term. Daniel didn't even like thinking that word in his mind. He placed his translated line next to hers.
Vivian of the Lake, beloved of Moros.
"Dr. Jackson," the voice came from the laptop. Returning from his thoughts, he focused on the airman in the center of the screen. "Sir, I need you to provide the response phrase."
Daniel smiled sheepishly. "Present the challenge," this was foolish. With the coded system changed from Jack control, at least there would be fewer Simpson references.
"Who would Phil the Phoenix defeat?"
Somebody deserved to be zatted, "Scotty."
"Thank you, Dr. Jackson," the airman looked relieved. "Next check-in will be after you wake up call." He looked down at something off to the side. "What time did you set that, Sir?"
The next session at Smithsonian started at 10:30 AM the following day. "I requested the call at 8:45 AM." By the end of the week, he would become acclimated to this time zone. He would back up calls thirty minutes every day. "That'll place my check-in time here at 9 AM, which would be 7 AM your time."
While the airman was jotting information down, Daniel took the time to look at his right insignia. The contact teams took pity on him and quietly translated to and from military time for him. Smiling, the Sargent continued, "I have that all set, Sir."
"Thank you, Sargent." Daniel's reply was met with a quick salute. It bothered him that sometimes you receive salutes. Yes, he belongs to SG1. Over the past year and a half, due to either immersion or cross-training, Daniel had gained several skills. He participated in exercises and qualified to use a P90, and a Beretta meant something to the airman. He preferred one of the cook's explanations better. If it is not human, be prepared to clean it, move it, or paint it. If it is seen with an officer or it wears a suit, you salute it.
Activating the shutdown sequence, he turned off the power at the surge protector. Stretching slowly, Daniel turned his head first to the left and then back to the right, stood up from the chair. Never one to doubt following his instinct something wasn't right. Sam, ever the analytical scientist, often described gut feelings as realizations gathered from subconscious observations. Jack would always say it's just a feeling go with it. Teal'c believed in situational or battle awareness.
"Petrificus Totalus," a soft voice came from the balcony.
Several things happened simultaneously. Part of Daniel's mind sought the entomology of the phrase. The root language was Latin. The first two syllables petra implied the word "stone", and fieri the past participle of factus, meaning "to become"; totalus comes from the Latin "totus", meaning 'complete'. Become ultimately like a stone. Of course, that was a rough translation. Then it dawned on him he could move. He was close enough to the bed so that he fell back onto it. From his mid-thighs down to his feet hung over the edge of the bed. There was no sensation of his quadriceps holding his legs out straight. The only thing he could move was his eyes. He wasn't even aware if he was breathing. That realization caused a bit of panic. He began waiting for the burning sensation one gets when holding one breath for too long.
"Winky be seeing him," a high-pitched voice came from the balcony. "They were watching pictures of a double-pointed to stone thing" It seemed as if the child were describing the events at the Smithsonian. "Mistress Mi-o-nee asked me to get etching parchment."
There was a pause, longer than needed for two breaths.
"How long has Hermione known you were watching over her?" The male voice was softer. There was a sound of latches on a briefcase popping open.
"Master Harry's Grangy discovered Winky on her second day at Ozzford."
"She let you work for her these past years?" The voice had a definite British accent. Not overly cultured or a stereotypical attempt at a disguise.
"Master Harry's Grangy said it was in-deer-ring. I could help her if I be sneaky-sneaky." The high-pitched giggle didn't invoke fear but made Daniel feel a bit concerned.
"I have a bad feeling," the man responded, "she's going to do something not-so-subtle."
If he were not a prisoner, Daniel might have felt a bit of empathy for his attacker. At the response of the child-voice, "youse be telling Winky to serve Mistress Mi-o-nee as her personal elf. As long as Master Harry is not hurt, Winky agreed to help Mistress Mi-o-nee get even."
There was a pause. Waves of tension swept across the room. Hairs on Daniel's forearms reacted as though there was static charge passing over them. His mind brought Jack's image staring at Dr. Fraser when she thwarted his attempts to escape the infirmary.
"Winky, please keep watch in the hallway. I need to make him more comfortable and ask a few questions."
"Winky, do that," there was an almost inaudible pop.
The man spoke one-word, "Somnulentus." Milliseconds after Daniel's brain translated this as sleep; he fell into a deep slumber.
Suddenly Daniel was awake. Taking stock of his surroundings, he realized he was sitting in the main suite in one of the overstuffed chairs. No one else appeared to be in the room. He started to rise from the seated position. His thighs and butt remained affixed to the chair. Daniel could lift his feet, bend at the waist, turned to look around, yet he couldn't stand up.
"Oh, it's good that you are awake." The voice came from Daniel's right. He turned and focused on the speaker. "I took the liberty to make us some tea."
The speaker stood no more than three feet from him. He wore a black leather trench coat. Wearing that in July in Washington DC should be debilitating. Refocusing his attention, Daniel knew he would need to look for details to describe during his debriefing. Even though drawn back into a ponytail, Daniel could tell that the ebony hair wanted to be unrestrained. There was a hint of a beard, and his captor wore a wry smile. The nose seemed proportion for the face; the only other detail he could see was a faint jagged scar above the glasses; moreover, the left eyebrow running up his forehead. He would be able to get my color or socket shape as the man wore mirrored sunglasses.
"I have used a high-tech adhesive to secure the back of your pintos the chair." The man placed a tea service on the coffee table. "May I call you, Daniel?"
"Only if I can call you, Harry," Daniel decided to channel Teal'c.
"That would be acceptable," he poured two cups, "cream or sugar?"
An audible pop caused Daniel to turn toward it. He could not twist that far to get a look.
"Master Harry," that had to be this Winky person. "Two bad wizzies be coming down the hall. They has 'mpearsed a man."
"Protect Daniel here." Harry then strode toward the door. A more resounding pop occurred.
"Be noos afraid. Winky keep you safe." The now shaky voice came from behind his chair, lower about elbow height as he was sitting.
Perhaps Daniel might be able to garner some information. "Winky, are you worried?"
"Master Harry's Mi-o-nee disappeared. Winky can't find her." The lights flickered. One of the reasons this hotel was chosen for use by the Defense Department for dignitaries, the walls were solid poured concrete, making them almost soundproof; however, muffled shouts filtered into the room. The lights failed. "I used Mistress Mi-o-nee's cell-pone to get Master Harry. He comes for her, but he was very tired one jump from England." Lights flashed under the door, red, green, blue, in random patterns. Then it stopped.
The door burst open, banging into the wall. Two bodies crashed onto the floor to Daniel's left; one wrapped in ropes, the other lay stiff. Over his right, a body floated to the other chair. "I have had enough, Merlin's beard." Daniel watched Harry run his hands over the man now sitting opposite him. "Sprained shoulder and some heavy bruising."
Daniel wanted to ask a bunch of questions. Teal'c's voice commanded in his mind, "Observe and report Daniel Jackson."
"Accio weapons," the two bodies on the floor bucked and twisted. Objects flew from the men on the floor. Harry snatched them from the air and tossed them on the bed. "Portus Obscura." Harry's voice sounded angry. The level of static electricity in the room increased. Using his foot, Harry forced the stiff body over. He knelt. "Hello, if it isn't Thorfinn Rowle," his voice dripped with rage. "Blink twice if you for yes." A black baton appeared in Harry's hand. "Where is Hermione?" He pushed the baton tip into Thorfinn's cheek."Legilimens…"
There was utter silence for 20 to 30 seconds.
'Obliviate."
Harry stood, walks over to Daniel. "Look in my eyes, Daniel." Harry removed his sunglasses, "it won't hurt at all."
Though he did not wish to look into green eyes wroth with power, "Legilimens." There was pressure and then a sense of calm.
"Daniel," Harry's voice called.
Opening his eyes, Daniel viewed Harry wiping his temples. "Have your General Hammond inform the President, the Prime Minister of England, ICW that the Grimmauld Accords are violated." Harry collapsed.
"Master Harry!"
Daniel had forgotten about Winy."
"I take you to the Merica House."
Accompanied by a now-familiar pop, Harry disappeared.
