Chapter 2: Cause and Effect
Brigadier General Harold Maybourne sat in his office at the SGC, infinitely pleased with himself.
The last twelve years had been an absolute dream.
After the disaster that came from recruiting Jack O'Neill to head up his 'alternate' team, which stole alien technology from races who were unwilling to share it, he found himself discredited and ousted from his position at the NID. He had gone from having everything he wanted to being the most wanted man around. That had changed, however, when a benefactor had gotten an idea, and a lot of funding, to pull off one of the most intricate power plays Maybourne had ever had the pleasure to be a part of. He'd been reinstated into the NID without question to fulfill his end of the bargain.
Because of his loyalty and service, and his willingness to make things happen, he'd gotten everything he ever wanted. George Hammond's death had been necessary to keep the man from exposing Harry's little covert operation to duplicate SGC acquired technology and sell it to the highest bidder, but it had also paved the way for his new and improved NID faction and its sympathizers to gain control of the Stargate project. A new base commander, a new administration and a new policy had ensured Maybourne's quick rise to the top. Shortly after Hammond's death, and after Jack O'Neill had been safely removed from a position of influence over the project, Maybourne had become second in command of Cheyenne Mountain. After a few more years of faithful service, a promotion to Brigadier General and command of the base had followed.
Hammond's idealism had died along with him, which had allowed the project to move in an entirely different direction. New allegiances with powerful races had been made, alliances with races that were more than willing to share their technology. These new alliances ensured Earth's continued survival in the universe. However, Maybourne was nothing if not cautious. By relegating O'Neill, Carter, Teal'c and anyone else who'd been sympathetic to Hammond's way of thinking to an off-world base, Maybourne had suffered no opposition. In addition, he'd allowed O'Neill to maintain the alliances that had been forged while Hammond had been in command. After all, you never knew when you'd need a favor from the Asgard or the Tok'ra. Those races would only deal with SG-1, so Harry had kept SG-1 around. All except for one member, of course. But even Dr. Jackson had been easily replaced.
All in all, the plan had been flawlessly executed and Harry was only too happy to bask in the glory. A knock on his office door broke his train of thought. He looked up, irritated at being interrupted.
"Come in," he snapped and glared at the intruder. He sighed when he saw that it was SG-11's archaeologist. "Dr. Rothman, what can I do for you?" Harry asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
He was surprised when Robert Rothman stood his ground and returned the glare. Maybourne smiled, gratified to see that after fourteen years at the SGC, the doctor had finally learned to play the military game.
"SG-11 is on stand down until Captain Gregory recovers from his broken leg, so I would like to request a few days leave."
"Leave to go where, Doctor?"
"A friend of mine is recovering from a severe illness and I would like to go visit her," Robert replied
"How many days will you need?" Maybourne asked. As long as the man wasn't needed off-world or on base, he'd let him go.
"Three days, General."
He thought it over for a few minutes.
"I'll do better than that, Dr. Rothman. Captain Gregory won't be able to return to duty for three weeks and you're not needed on any other team at the moment, so I will give you a week's worth of leave. Do what you want with the extra time, but report back on schedule. Understood?"
Robert nodded once, apparently surprised at the General's generosity. "Understood. Thank you, sir."
With that, Rothman did an about face and quickly left the office.
Maybourne frowned. The man would forever be a mystery to him. He was a scientist, of that there was no doubt. But aside from that, Robert Rothman was a stubborn son of a bitch who had learned how to play the game. Harry knew that hadn't always been the case. He remembered meeting Rothman once, a while back, during a debriefing. The archaeologist had seemed introverted and very out of place with the rest of his teammates and Harry had given the guy a year, tops. He'd been surprised when Rothman had not only lasted more than a year, but he'd adapted himself and his attitude to better fit in with the people around him. He hadn't become military at all, but he'd learned to accept his place on the base and make the most of it. He'd never been a threat to Maybourne, so Robert had been left on Earth.
An hour after Rothman's departure, there was another knock on the door.
"Come," Maybourne called, annoyed at being interrupted for a second time. He glanced up to see one of his most trusted Majors entering the office.
"What is it, Joseph?"
Major Joseph Corelli quickly swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, which Maybourne took to mean that he had bad news to report.
"I just received a phone call from my contact in the Colorado State Penitentiary. Colonel Adamson never showed up for the parole hearing today."
"What? Where the hell is he?" Maybourne exploded, glaring at his subordinate.
Corelli shrugged. "No one knows where he is, sir. He's not answering his cellular phone or returning his pages."
Maybourne got up from his chair and walked around his desk so that he was standing directly in front of Corelli. "I want you to find Adamson and bring him to me so that he can answer a few questions." He paused as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Jackson walked, didn't he?"
Corelli simply nodded, since no words were really necessary.
"Damn it! Jackson was never supposed to leave that place. If you'll recall, we decided that since your idiot contact at the prison couldn't permanently get rid of Jackson, we'd simply make sure that he never left the place. Parole was never supposed to be an option, and now you're telling me that he's out of prison, out on his own?"
Corelli remained silent.
"You do realize what this can do to us, don't you, Joseph?"
"I don't think he remembers what happened, sir. If Jackson had remembered, he would have made more of a fuss to get released, but that didn't happen. Even if he is out on parole, where is he going to go? He has nothing, since his most of his personal belongings were destroyed when he was sent to prison. He has no family and the only friends he had are off world at the other base. He's alone with nowhere to go. I think his main concern for now is survival, not revenge."
Maybourne said nothing. Instead, he thought of the visitor he'd entertained before Corelli had walked in. Inspired, he quickly picked up his phone and dialed the check in point on the surface.
"Has Dr. Rothman left the base yet, airman?" Maybourne asked. He nodded at the answer he was given, and then hung up.
"Rothman?" Corelli asked, puzzled.
"The good doctor came to my office earlier asking for three days leave to visit an ill friend. I don't know much about the man's personal life, so I saw no reason to deny his request. I do know, however, that he and Dr. Jackson go way back and that Dr. Rothman was one of the few supporters of Dr. Jackson when he was indicted for murder. Somehow, Rothman knew of the parole hearing yesterday and the subsequent outcome. I want you to send a couple of men to Rothman's house so that they can follow him from there and see where he goes. He left the base a half an hour ago, so that should give you plenty of time to get to his house and watch him. With any luck, he'll lead us right to Dr. Jackson."
**~~**
Robert Rothman quickly got into the waiting cab and shut the door. He glanced back at his house once, before speaking to the cabbie.
"Airport."
"What airline, Mister?" the man asked, glancing at Robert through the rear view mirror.
"Delta Airlines," Robert replied and sat back on the seat, settling himself for the ride ahead.
He had been very surprised when Maybourne had given him seven days leave instead of the three that he had asked for. Robert didn't know why the general had been in such a giving mood, since the man was not known for his kindness. However, Robert wasn't about to complain about the general's sudden surge of good will, because he could definitely use the extra time.
General Maybourne hadn't been very supportive of the few archaeologists that had remained on the project after the NID had taken control. He'd shipped most of them to the off-world base, claiming that they could be of more service over there. Robert had been kept on Earth for reasons that he couldn't quite understand, even if it had been more then a decade since it had happened. He wasn't a field archaeologist, nor had he ever entertained plans of becoming one. In all truth, the term "field archaeologist" was something that Robert used to call Daniel, since he'd spent most of his time off-world with SG-1 and rarely with the rest of the archaeologists. Robert knew that he could never handle half of the situations that Daniel had been exposed to, so he'd been content to remain on base and examine artifacts or go off-world to archaeological missions with SG-11. He was a civilian, after all. His first loyalty would always be to archaeology.
SG-11, which was the only archaeological team that had remained on Earth, was the team sent on missions where alien technology was involved. They were the ones to go and examine whatever was found, before SG-7 took over the delicate negotiations involved in reaching an agreement with the inhabitants of whatever world they happened to be on.
Jack O'Neill had offered Robert a place on SG-9, which was the archaeological team for the off-world base. Robert had been very surprised at the offer, since he hadn't ever been a favorite of the general's. He hadn't gotten a chance to accept or turn down the assignment, however, because Maybourne had made it absolutely clear that Robert was to stay on Earth with SG-11. Robert had not understood Maybourne's reasons for wanting him to say on Earth, but he hadn't been in a position to argue.
"We're here."
The driver's voice snapped Robert out of his thoughts. He took some money out of his wallet and gave it to the driver. After grabbing his overnight bag from the seat beside him, Robert made his way into the airport.
****
"Attention passengers of Flight 1534, nonstop service to Chicago, Illinois, please prepare for boarding from gate 4B."
"That's the one," Lieutenant Mitchell said to his companion. "Dr. Rothman has a ticket on that flight.
He'd gotten Rothman's plans from Maybourne, who had attained them from the base computer. It seemed that Dr. Rothman had purchased his ticket that same day from his office at the SGC. That allowed the tech guys to get into his workstation and trace his steps. That and the fact that the techs doing the digging were highly trained in electronic surveillance, which would have yielded Rothman's flight plans without the need to get into his office workstation.
"I wonder what's in Chicago," Sergeant Wilson said.
"I have no clue. General Maybourne thinks that Rothman is going to meet with Jackson."
"Daniel Jackson? I thought he was still in the slammer for murder?"
"Not anymore, Wilson. He was paroled yesterday. What surprises me is how quickly word got to both the general and to Rothman."
"What does Maybourne want with the man?"
Mitchell shook his head. "I'm not exactly sure. All I know is that I'm supposed to see where Rothman goes so that the general can send his own men. Now we better hurry up if we're going to make sure that Rothman is actually going to Chicago."
The two men deftly made their way to the appropriate gate with little difficulty. They were wearing civilian clothing so they blended in with all of the other passengers. They each even carried a small overnight bag so that security wouldn't get suspicious of them.
"I don't see him," Wilson stated as he looked around the waiting area in front of the departure gate.
"There he is," Mitchell said, motioning with his chin.
Wilson saw Robert sitting at one of the chairs closest to the window, facing the ticket counter where the agents were making their last minute preparations. He was wearing jeans and a white sweatshirt and seemed completely relaxed. He was reading a book and ignoring everyone else around him.
"Let's sit here and observe," Mitchell stated and sat on one of the chairs so that he was as far away from the archaeologist as he could while still keeping him in sight. "I bet a month's pay that the good doctor has no idea that he's being watched."
They both made themselves comfortable and covertly watched the archaeologist.
"Attention passengers, we are now boarding those of you in first class."
Mitchell and Wilson looked up and saw that Rothman had put his book up and was waiting patiently for his turn to board the plane. After a few minutes, the gate agent's voice came through the speakers once again.
"Now, all passengers with seats in rows fifteen through twenty, please board."
Robert got up and made his way towards the gate. He waited in line to board, and then handed his boarding pass to the agent, before making his way into the walkway that would take him to the waiting airplane.
Mitchell waited until Robert had disappeared from view before pulling out his cellular phone. He quickly dialed General Maybourne's line and waited for it to be picked up.
"Maybourne," came the reply.
"He's on his way to Chicago, General."
"Good," Maybourne replied. "I'll have some of my people standing by at O'Hare waiting to track him. You did good, Mitchell, now return to the base."
Mitchell nodded as he heard the line go dead. "Our job here is done, let's go."
****
"Damn it! I am not cut out for these cat and mouse operations," Robert muttered to himself as he glared at the offending wall.
He rubbed his arm where the uneven metal that made up the wall of the walkway had cut into him and grimaced. Carefully, he made his way down the steps to the ground below. The Boeing 767 jet he was supposed to have boarded loomed to his right and he hoped that someone in the cockpit wouldn't decide to look down and see him sneaking out of the gate that led from the terminal to the plane itself.
When Catherine had called him the day before to inform him of what had happened at Daniel's parole hearing, she'd been very specific with instructions about what he would need to do to get to where Daniel was. He was doing his best to follow them, even if he was having a little trouble.
The reasoning behind what he was currently doing was simple: for the past few years, ever since Daniel had been eligible for parole, an Air Force Colonel had been showing up at the hearings to testify against Daniel. The hearings always resulted in Daniel being denied parole. Catherine told him that the parole board had reconvened for Daniel's hearing because the last one had been cut short and they felt Daniel hadn't been given a fair chance. The difference in this hearing was that the Colonel didn't show up to testify and Daniel had been paroled. That fact only served to make them even more convinced that the Air Force, in part, was behind the events that had culminated with Daniel being convicted of murder.
Catherine and Ernest had both been sure that once word got out of what had happened and that Daniel was out of prison, the NID faction responsible for General Hammond's murder and the Air Force personnel involved, would want to do something about it. Because of the risks, Robert had bought the fake ticket to Chicago. Daniel was currently staying with Catherine and Ernest, who lived in Denver. However, in order for Robert to make it there, he had to make sure that Maybourne's people thought he was going somewhere else.
Robert had been so lost in thought that he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going. He had made it to the side of the terminal, where the carts that carried baggage to and from the planes were parked. Fortunately, he'd headed away from the gate where the plane he was supposed to be on was parked and headed towards an empty gate, so the possibility of him being seen was remote. In front of him, he could see a door that led to the inside of the terminal. He didn't want to take that, because he'd be spotted immediately and asked for identification. He had to find a way to get to the front of the terminal without going inside.
"Now what?" he asked himself.
He hadn't exactly planned his impromptu escape from the airport; all he'd been thinking about was that he had to pretend to get on the plane while not actually boarding it. Going out the door that led from the gate to the ground before reaching the plane had seemed like a good idea at the time.
'I can't go inside the terminal again, because the lower levels are only for airport employees and they'll surely notice me right away and arrest me for trespassing,' he thought, glancing around. 'On the other hand, if I stay out here or attempt to cross the runways, someone will spot me. Great, Robert. just great. You've gotten yourself stuck with nowhere to go.'
He shook his head, disgusted with himself at his failure. If he couldn't do something as simple as get out of the airport unnoticed, how was he supposed to help Daniel find out who'd really killed General Hammond?
'I should have stayed at NYU and ignored Daniel when he told me about this wonderful program he was involved with.'
Robert glanced behind him again and suddenly spotted an opening hidden in between the door to the terminal and the next gate. He quickly walked over to it and saw that it was a small corridor. Having no other options, he took it, and hoped that no one would spot him as he crossed it. Suddenly, he found himself at the front of the terminal, next to the baggage check in for one of the airlines. He sighed in relief at finally being where he was supposed to be. The guy at the baggage counter gave him a strange look, but Robert just gave the man a wave and a small smile, and quickly walked away. When he was halfway down the terminal, he spotted a cab that was dropping off a woman and her two kids. Quickly, Robert walked over to the cab and waited for the woman to exit, before getting in.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm not supposed to pick up passengers here," the driver told Robert. "The Taxi stand is in the upper level."
"I'll give you $50 if you make an exception this time."
The driver pondered the offer. Deciding it was worth it, he floored it and took off towards the exit.
****
Daniel sat on a bench beside the small pond, shivering slightly in the wind. His longish hair fluttered over his face, concealing his features from curious bystanders. Not that there were many people out today, because the temperature had dropped to the lower 30s. The sun was shinning brightly on a blue sky, which made the scenery seem that much brighter and livelier. He had felt compelled to come here, however, even if it was just to stare at the water.
He wrapped the afghan he'd borrowed from Catherine tighter around his shoulders, taking in the smell of lavender that permeated it. It felt good to be alone again. Daniel had forgotten what it was like to be away from the noise and racket of the prison and he liked the feeling of peace that it gave him. Out here, in the small park he found himself in, he was alone with just the wind for company. Occasionally, a brave man or woman on roller blades would skate by and smile at him, but not very often. Daniel was content to simply sit on the cold bench and stare at the ripples in the water, trying to figure out what he had to do next.
First and foremost in the rules of survival was a way to make a living. He had to find a job somewhere and he had to find it fast. Catherine and Ernest had made it absolutely clear that he was welcome to stay with them for as long as he needed to, but Daniel wasn't about to take advantage of their generosity. He had to find work so that he could be independent.
Daniel chuckled suddenly as the memory of the last time he'd wondered about how to find a job came to him. Catherine had found him then, after his disastrous lecture, and had given him a second chance. Ironic that she was the one offering him one again.
"So what's the joke?"
Daniel turned away from the pond at the sound of the voice, his lips forming a smile as he caught sight of the man standing a few feet away.
"Robert, you made it," Daniel said. He got up from the bench and walked over to his friend. He stood awkwardly in front of Robert, until Robert reached out and embraced him. Daniel stiffened for a moment, until he returned the embrace and patted Robert's back warmly. "Catherine said you were on your way," Daniel added as he stepped back from Robert.
"Yeah. I got a little delayed. I was never good at this cat and mouse stuff, you know."
Daniel frowned. "What happened? Did Maybourne have you followed?"
"I don't know, but I wouldn't doubt it. Catherine told me to set a false trail, so I bought a ticket to Chicago and went to the airport, where I pretended to board the plane, then got out of the gate, went down to the ground and out of the terminal. No one saw me, which I still can't believe."
Daniel laughed at the look of utter horror on Robert's face. He'd always been the cautious, do it by the book type, so Daniel knew how much of a stretch subterfuge was for him.
"Chicago, huh? You didn't by any chance say that you were visiting Steven and Sarah, did you?"
Robert laughed. "Hell no! They wouldn't be happy to see me anyway. No, I told Maybourne that I was going to see a sick friend."
Daniel nodded and led Robert to the bench he'd been sitting on. He picked up the afghan he'd discarded at the sound of his friend's voice and wrapped it around his shoulders again.
"You really should be wearing a jacket you know," Robert chided as he took a seat next to Daniel on the bench.
"I didn't have one, and the one Ernest let me borrow was too small."
Robert shook his head, smiling sadly. "I still can't get used to the new you, Daniel. Not even while you were on SG-1 did you put on that much muscle."
Daniel shrugged. "It wasn't as important to me while I was on SG-1. Jack, Sam and Teal'c were there to protect me so I didn't have to worry about it. Of course, on SG-1, I also had a weapon so I could protect myself. In prison, I didn't have a weapon."
"Does that explain the missing glasses too?"
"Sort of. A long time ago, while we were on a mission and ended up in prison in Hadante, Jack told me that glasses were a sign of weakness. He was right. They were the first to go when I got to the penitentiary. Not by my choice, by the way." Daniel paused, taking his gaze off Robert and directing it to the pond. "It became much easier to go half blind than to give them a reason to come after me. I got used to it. After a while, I was able to get contact lenses, so I can see again."
Robert's silence let Daniel know that his friend was digesting everything he'd just said. He knew that he didn't have to sugar coat anything for Robert, because he'd been there for most of the last twelve years and had seen first hand what prison life had done to him. He had stayed a friend through everything, which Daniel truly appreciated.
"How long do you have?" he asked, returning his attention to Robert.
Robert took a deep breath, and then released it. "Seven days."
"Wow, that's a lot of time. How'd you manage that?"
Robert chuckled. "I actually only asked for three. The general must have been feeling generous and gave me a week. That, and the fact that SG-11's leader is laid up with a broken leg for three weeks and we can't go anywhere."
"How is that going?"
"What, SG-11?" Robert asked, confused. "It's going okay, I guess. It's not like it used to be. Then again, nothing else is either." Robert was quiet for a moment, before speaking again. "What's the plan, Daniel? I'll do what I can in the time I have, you know that."
"I know, Robert and I appreciate it. I don't have a plan yet, but I'm working on one. I need more information. I need a laptop with a good enough connection to gather the information I couldn't get while in prison."
"Well, you're in luck. I brought you a little gift. Ernest is setting it up as we speak," Robert said, his voice merry. "There is one more thing, though," he added, his voice losing the humor it held.
"What is it?"
"I told O'Neill about the parole and where you were going to stay."
Daniel's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't say anything for a while. "Why?" he finally asked.
"He has a right to know, Daniel. He wants to help you. He's always wanted to help, you just wouldn't let him."
Daniel felt his stomach clenching at the thought of having to face Jack again and felt irrational anger at Robert for telling him.
"How did you tell him?"
Robert narrowed his eyes and stared at Daniel, as if trying to gauge his reaction.
"I sent him a letter through an airman, disguised as an archaeological survey. I haven't spoken to him, so I don't know if he got it."
Daniel shook his head. "I didn't want him involved. I don't want Sam or Teal'c involved either, Robert."
"Why not? Do you have any idea how much they tried to help once they got back to Earth? They would have moved heaven and earth for you if they'd thought it would do any good. It was devastating to all of them, especially O'Neill."
Daniel snorted. "I didn't know that you and Jack were such close friends."
"That's low, Daniel and you know it," Robert replied, his voice hardening slightly. "O'Neill and I aren't good friends. You didn't have to be close to him to see how much having you in prison hurt him and all of SG-1. The entire base knew it. And they did try to clear you, just like we did. But there was nothing there."
"I don't want to face them, Robert. I'm not who I used to be and I don't want them to take one look at me and decide that I'm not worth the effort anymore," Daniel said sadly.
"What makes you think that they'd take one look at you and not want to be bothered?" Robert asked.
"I don't know. I just know that we're not like we used to be anymore. We've all changed."
"Why don't you let them decide that for themselves? You owe them that much, you know."
Daniel glared at Robert, fighting down the urge to punch him. After a tense moment, he got up from the bench.
"Come on, Robert, let's head back before Ernest gets mad that we missed dinner. He's very picky about that, you know."
Brigadier General Harold Maybourne sat in his office at the SGC, infinitely pleased with himself.
The last twelve years had been an absolute dream.
After the disaster that came from recruiting Jack O'Neill to head up his 'alternate' team, which stole alien technology from races who were unwilling to share it, he found himself discredited and ousted from his position at the NID. He had gone from having everything he wanted to being the most wanted man around. That had changed, however, when a benefactor had gotten an idea, and a lot of funding, to pull off one of the most intricate power plays Maybourne had ever had the pleasure to be a part of. He'd been reinstated into the NID without question to fulfill his end of the bargain.
Because of his loyalty and service, and his willingness to make things happen, he'd gotten everything he ever wanted. George Hammond's death had been necessary to keep the man from exposing Harry's little covert operation to duplicate SGC acquired technology and sell it to the highest bidder, but it had also paved the way for his new and improved NID faction and its sympathizers to gain control of the Stargate project. A new base commander, a new administration and a new policy had ensured Maybourne's quick rise to the top. Shortly after Hammond's death, and after Jack O'Neill had been safely removed from a position of influence over the project, Maybourne had become second in command of Cheyenne Mountain. After a few more years of faithful service, a promotion to Brigadier General and command of the base had followed.
Hammond's idealism had died along with him, which had allowed the project to move in an entirely different direction. New allegiances with powerful races had been made, alliances with races that were more than willing to share their technology. These new alliances ensured Earth's continued survival in the universe. However, Maybourne was nothing if not cautious. By relegating O'Neill, Carter, Teal'c and anyone else who'd been sympathetic to Hammond's way of thinking to an off-world base, Maybourne had suffered no opposition. In addition, he'd allowed O'Neill to maintain the alliances that had been forged while Hammond had been in command. After all, you never knew when you'd need a favor from the Asgard or the Tok'ra. Those races would only deal with SG-1, so Harry had kept SG-1 around. All except for one member, of course. But even Dr. Jackson had been easily replaced.
All in all, the plan had been flawlessly executed and Harry was only too happy to bask in the glory. A knock on his office door broke his train of thought. He looked up, irritated at being interrupted.
"Come in," he snapped and glared at the intruder. He sighed when he saw that it was SG-11's archaeologist. "Dr. Rothman, what can I do for you?" Harry asked, sarcasm dripping from his voice.
He was surprised when Robert Rothman stood his ground and returned the glare. Maybourne smiled, gratified to see that after fourteen years at the SGC, the doctor had finally learned to play the military game.
"SG-11 is on stand down until Captain Gregory recovers from his broken leg, so I would like to request a few days leave."
"Leave to go where, Doctor?"
"A friend of mine is recovering from a severe illness and I would like to go visit her," Robert replied
"How many days will you need?" Maybourne asked. As long as the man wasn't needed off-world or on base, he'd let him go.
"Three days, General."
He thought it over for a few minutes.
"I'll do better than that, Dr. Rothman. Captain Gregory won't be able to return to duty for three weeks and you're not needed on any other team at the moment, so I will give you a week's worth of leave. Do what you want with the extra time, but report back on schedule. Understood?"
Robert nodded once, apparently surprised at the General's generosity. "Understood. Thank you, sir."
With that, Rothman did an about face and quickly left the office.
Maybourne frowned. The man would forever be a mystery to him. He was a scientist, of that there was no doubt. But aside from that, Robert Rothman was a stubborn son of a bitch who had learned how to play the game. Harry knew that hadn't always been the case. He remembered meeting Rothman once, a while back, during a debriefing. The archaeologist had seemed introverted and very out of place with the rest of his teammates and Harry had given the guy a year, tops. He'd been surprised when Rothman had not only lasted more than a year, but he'd adapted himself and his attitude to better fit in with the people around him. He hadn't become military at all, but he'd learned to accept his place on the base and make the most of it. He'd never been a threat to Maybourne, so Robert had been left on Earth.
An hour after Rothman's departure, there was another knock on the door.
"Come," Maybourne called, annoyed at being interrupted for a second time. He glanced up to see one of his most trusted Majors entering the office.
"What is it, Joseph?"
Major Joseph Corelli quickly swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, which Maybourne took to mean that he had bad news to report.
"I just received a phone call from my contact in the Colorado State Penitentiary. Colonel Adamson never showed up for the parole hearing today."
"What? Where the hell is he?" Maybourne exploded, glaring at his subordinate.
Corelli shrugged. "No one knows where he is, sir. He's not answering his cellular phone or returning his pages."
Maybourne got up from his chair and walked around his desk so that he was standing directly in front of Corelli. "I want you to find Adamson and bring him to me so that he can answer a few questions." He paused as a sudden thought occurred to him. "Jackson walked, didn't he?"
Corelli simply nodded, since no words were really necessary.
"Damn it! Jackson was never supposed to leave that place. If you'll recall, we decided that since your idiot contact at the prison couldn't permanently get rid of Jackson, we'd simply make sure that he never left the place. Parole was never supposed to be an option, and now you're telling me that he's out of prison, out on his own?"
Corelli remained silent.
"You do realize what this can do to us, don't you, Joseph?"
"I don't think he remembers what happened, sir. If Jackson had remembered, he would have made more of a fuss to get released, but that didn't happen. Even if he is out on parole, where is he going to go? He has nothing, since his most of his personal belongings were destroyed when he was sent to prison. He has no family and the only friends he had are off world at the other base. He's alone with nowhere to go. I think his main concern for now is survival, not revenge."
Maybourne said nothing. Instead, he thought of the visitor he'd entertained before Corelli had walked in. Inspired, he quickly picked up his phone and dialed the check in point on the surface.
"Has Dr. Rothman left the base yet, airman?" Maybourne asked. He nodded at the answer he was given, and then hung up.
"Rothman?" Corelli asked, puzzled.
"The good doctor came to my office earlier asking for three days leave to visit an ill friend. I don't know much about the man's personal life, so I saw no reason to deny his request. I do know, however, that he and Dr. Jackson go way back and that Dr. Rothman was one of the few supporters of Dr. Jackson when he was indicted for murder. Somehow, Rothman knew of the parole hearing yesterday and the subsequent outcome. I want you to send a couple of men to Rothman's house so that they can follow him from there and see where he goes. He left the base a half an hour ago, so that should give you plenty of time to get to his house and watch him. With any luck, he'll lead us right to Dr. Jackson."
**~~**
Robert Rothman quickly got into the waiting cab and shut the door. He glanced back at his house once, before speaking to the cabbie.
"Airport."
"What airline, Mister?" the man asked, glancing at Robert through the rear view mirror.
"Delta Airlines," Robert replied and sat back on the seat, settling himself for the ride ahead.
He had been very surprised when Maybourne had given him seven days leave instead of the three that he had asked for. Robert didn't know why the general had been in such a giving mood, since the man was not known for his kindness. However, Robert wasn't about to complain about the general's sudden surge of good will, because he could definitely use the extra time.
General Maybourne hadn't been very supportive of the few archaeologists that had remained on the project after the NID had taken control. He'd shipped most of them to the off-world base, claiming that they could be of more service over there. Robert had been kept on Earth for reasons that he couldn't quite understand, even if it had been more then a decade since it had happened. He wasn't a field archaeologist, nor had he ever entertained plans of becoming one. In all truth, the term "field archaeologist" was something that Robert used to call Daniel, since he'd spent most of his time off-world with SG-1 and rarely with the rest of the archaeologists. Robert knew that he could never handle half of the situations that Daniel had been exposed to, so he'd been content to remain on base and examine artifacts or go off-world to archaeological missions with SG-11. He was a civilian, after all. His first loyalty would always be to archaeology.
SG-11, which was the only archaeological team that had remained on Earth, was the team sent on missions where alien technology was involved. They were the ones to go and examine whatever was found, before SG-7 took over the delicate negotiations involved in reaching an agreement with the inhabitants of whatever world they happened to be on.
Jack O'Neill had offered Robert a place on SG-9, which was the archaeological team for the off-world base. Robert had been very surprised at the offer, since he hadn't ever been a favorite of the general's. He hadn't gotten a chance to accept or turn down the assignment, however, because Maybourne had made it absolutely clear that Robert was to stay on Earth with SG-11. Robert had not understood Maybourne's reasons for wanting him to say on Earth, but he hadn't been in a position to argue.
"We're here."
The driver's voice snapped Robert out of his thoughts. He took some money out of his wallet and gave it to the driver. After grabbing his overnight bag from the seat beside him, Robert made his way into the airport.
****
"Attention passengers of Flight 1534, nonstop service to Chicago, Illinois, please prepare for boarding from gate 4B."
"That's the one," Lieutenant Mitchell said to his companion. "Dr. Rothman has a ticket on that flight.
He'd gotten Rothman's plans from Maybourne, who had attained them from the base computer. It seemed that Dr. Rothman had purchased his ticket that same day from his office at the SGC. That allowed the tech guys to get into his workstation and trace his steps. That and the fact that the techs doing the digging were highly trained in electronic surveillance, which would have yielded Rothman's flight plans without the need to get into his office workstation.
"I wonder what's in Chicago," Sergeant Wilson said.
"I have no clue. General Maybourne thinks that Rothman is going to meet with Jackson."
"Daniel Jackson? I thought he was still in the slammer for murder?"
"Not anymore, Wilson. He was paroled yesterday. What surprises me is how quickly word got to both the general and to Rothman."
"What does Maybourne want with the man?"
Mitchell shook his head. "I'm not exactly sure. All I know is that I'm supposed to see where Rothman goes so that the general can send his own men. Now we better hurry up if we're going to make sure that Rothman is actually going to Chicago."
The two men deftly made their way to the appropriate gate with little difficulty. They were wearing civilian clothing so they blended in with all of the other passengers. They each even carried a small overnight bag so that security wouldn't get suspicious of them.
"I don't see him," Wilson stated as he looked around the waiting area in front of the departure gate.
"There he is," Mitchell said, motioning with his chin.
Wilson saw Robert sitting at one of the chairs closest to the window, facing the ticket counter where the agents were making their last minute preparations. He was wearing jeans and a white sweatshirt and seemed completely relaxed. He was reading a book and ignoring everyone else around him.
"Let's sit here and observe," Mitchell stated and sat on one of the chairs so that he was as far away from the archaeologist as he could while still keeping him in sight. "I bet a month's pay that the good doctor has no idea that he's being watched."
They both made themselves comfortable and covertly watched the archaeologist.
"Attention passengers, we are now boarding those of you in first class."
Mitchell and Wilson looked up and saw that Rothman had put his book up and was waiting patiently for his turn to board the plane. After a few minutes, the gate agent's voice came through the speakers once again.
"Now, all passengers with seats in rows fifteen through twenty, please board."
Robert got up and made his way towards the gate. He waited in line to board, and then handed his boarding pass to the agent, before making his way into the walkway that would take him to the waiting airplane.
Mitchell waited until Robert had disappeared from view before pulling out his cellular phone. He quickly dialed General Maybourne's line and waited for it to be picked up.
"Maybourne," came the reply.
"He's on his way to Chicago, General."
"Good," Maybourne replied. "I'll have some of my people standing by at O'Hare waiting to track him. You did good, Mitchell, now return to the base."
Mitchell nodded as he heard the line go dead. "Our job here is done, let's go."
****
"Damn it! I am not cut out for these cat and mouse operations," Robert muttered to himself as he glared at the offending wall.
He rubbed his arm where the uneven metal that made up the wall of the walkway had cut into him and grimaced. Carefully, he made his way down the steps to the ground below. The Boeing 767 jet he was supposed to have boarded loomed to his right and he hoped that someone in the cockpit wouldn't decide to look down and see him sneaking out of the gate that led from the terminal to the plane itself.
When Catherine had called him the day before to inform him of what had happened at Daniel's parole hearing, she'd been very specific with instructions about what he would need to do to get to where Daniel was. He was doing his best to follow them, even if he was having a little trouble.
The reasoning behind what he was currently doing was simple: for the past few years, ever since Daniel had been eligible for parole, an Air Force Colonel had been showing up at the hearings to testify against Daniel. The hearings always resulted in Daniel being denied parole. Catherine told him that the parole board had reconvened for Daniel's hearing because the last one had been cut short and they felt Daniel hadn't been given a fair chance. The difference in this hearing was that the Colonel didn't show up to testify and Daniel had been paroled. That fact only served to make them even more convinced that the Air Force, in part, was behind the events that had culminated with Daniel being convicted of murder.
Catherine and Ernest had both been sure that once word got out of what had happened and that Daniel was out of prison, the NID faction responsible for General Hammond's murder and the Air Force personnel involved, would want to do something about it. Because of the risks, Robert had bought the fake ticket to Chicago. Daniel was currently staying with Catherine and Ernest, who lived in Denver. However, in order for Robert to make it there, he had to make sure that Maybourne's people thought he was going somewhere else.
Robert had been so lost in thought that he hadn't been paying attention to where he was going. He had made it to the side of the terminal, where the carts that carried baggage to and from the planes were parked. Fortunately, he'd headed away from the gate where the plane he was supposed to be on was parked and headed towards an empty gate, so the possibility of him being seen was remote. In front of him, he could see a door that led to the inside of the terminal. He didn't want to take that, because he'd be spotted immediately and asked for identification. He had to find a way to get to the front of the terminal without going inside.
"Now what?" he asked himself.
He hadn't exactly planned his impromptu escape from the airport; all he'd been thinking about was that he had to pretend to get on the plane while not actually boarding it. Going out the door that led from the gate to the ground before reaching the plane had seemed like a good idea at the time.
'I can't go inside the terminal again, because the lower levels are only for airport employees and they'll surely notice me right away and arrest me for trespassing,' he thought, glancing around. 'On the other hand, if I stay out here or attempt to cross the runways, someone will spot me. Great, Robert. just great. You've gotten yourself stuck with nowhere to go.'
He shook his head, disgusted with himself at his failure. If he couldn't do something as simple as get out of the airport unnoticed, how was he supposed to help Daniel find out who'd really killed General Hammond?
'I should have stayed at NYU and ignored Daniel when he told me about this wonderful program he was involved with.'
Robert glanced behind him again and suddenly spotted an opening hidden in between the door to the terminal and the next gate. He quickly walked over to it and saw that it was a small corridor. Having no other options, he took it, and hoped that no one would spot him as he crossed it. Suddenly, he found himself at the front of the terminal, next to the baggage check in for one of the airlines. He sighed in relief at finally being where he was supposed to be. The guy at the baggage counter gave him a strange look, but Robert just gave the man a wave and a small smile, and quickly walked away. When he was halfway down the terminal, he spotted a cab that was dropping off a woman and her two kids. Quickly, Robert walked over to the cab and waited for the woman to exit, before getting in.
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm not supposed to pick up passengers here," the driver told Robert. "The Taxi stand is in the upper level."
"I'll give you $50 if you make an exception this time."
The driver pondered the offer. Deciding it was worth it, he floored it and took off towards the exit.
****
Daniel sat on a bench beside the small pond, shivering slightly in the wind. His longish hair fluttered over his face, concealing his features from curious bystanders. Not that there were many people out today, because the temperature had dropped to the lower 30s. The sun was shinning brightly on a blue sky, which made the scenery seem that much brighter and livelier. He had felt compelled to come here, however, even if it was just to stare at the water.
He wrapped the afghan he'd borrowed from Catherine tighter around his shoulders, taking in the smell of lavender that permeated it. It felt good to be alone again. Daniel had forgotten what it was like to be away from the noise and racket of the prison and he liked the feeling of peace that it gave him. Out here, in the small park he found himself in, he was alone with just the wind for company. Occasionally, a brave man or woman on roller blades would skate by and smile at him, but not very often. Daniel was content to simply sit on the cold bench and stare at the ripples in the water, trying to figure out what he had to do next.
First and foremost in the rules of survival was a way to make a living. He had to find a job somewhere and he had to find it fast. Catherine and Ernest had made it absolutely clear that he was welcome to stay with them for as long as he needed to, but Daniel wasn't about to take advantage of their generosity. He had to find work so that he could be independent.
Daniel chuckled suddenly as the memory of the last time he'd wondered about how to find a job came to him. Catherine had found him then, after his disastrous lecture, and had given him a second chance. Ironic that she was the one offering him one again.
"So what's the joke?"
Daniel turned away from the pond at the sound of the voice, his lips forming a smile as he caught sight of the man standing a few feet away.
"Robert, you made it," Daniel said. He got up from the bench and walked over to his friend. He stood awkwardly in front of Robert, until Robert reached out and embraced him. Daniel stiffened for a moment, until he returned the embrace and patted Robert's back warmly. "Catherine said you were on your way," Daniel added as he stepped back from Robert.
"Yeah. I got a little delayed. I was never good at this cat and mouse stuff, you know."
Daniel frowned. "What happened? Did Maybourne have you followed?"
"I don't know, but I wouldn't doubt it. Catherine told me to set a false trail, so I bought a ticket to Chicago and went to the airport, where I pretended to board the plane, then got out of the gate, went down to the ground and out of the terminal. No one saw me, which I still can't believe."
Daniel laughed at the look of utter horror on Robert's face. He'd always been the cautious, do it by the book type, so Daniel knew how much of a stretch subterfuge was for him.
"Chicago, huh? You didn't by any chance say that you were visiting Steven and Sarah, did you?"
Robert laughed. "Hell no! They wouldn't be happy to see me anyway. No, I told Maybourne that I was going to see a sick friend."
Daniel nodded and led Robert to the bench he'd been sitting on. He picked up the afghan he'd discarded at the sound of his friend's voice and wrapped it around his shoulders again.
"You really should be wearing a jacket you know," Robert chided as he took a seat next to Daniel on the bench.
"I didn't have one, and the one Ernest let me borrow was too small."
Robert shook his head, smiling sadly. "I still can't get used to the new you, Daniel. Not even while you were on SG-1 did you put on that much muscle."
Daniel shrugged. "It wasn't as important to me while I was on SG-1. Jack, Sam and Teal'c were there to protect me so I didn't have to worry about it. Of course, on SG-1, I also had a weapon so I could protect myself. In prison, I didn't have a weapon."
"Does that explain the missing glasses too?"
"Sort of. A long time ago, while we were on a mission and ended up in prison in Hadante, Jack told me that glasses were a sign of weakness. He was right. They were the first to go when I got to the penitentiary. Not by my choice, by the way." Daniel paused, taking his gaze off Robert and directing it to the pond. "It became much easier to go half blind than to give them a reason to come after me. I got used to it. After a while, I was able to get contact lenses, so I can see again."
Robert's silence let Daniel know that his friend was digesting everything he'd just said. He knew that he didn't have to sugar coat anything for Robert, because he'd been there for most of the last twelve years and had seen first hand what prison life had done to him. He had stayed a friend through everything, which Daniel truly appreciated.
"How long do you have?" he asked, returning his attention to Robert.
Robert took a deep breath, and then released it. "Seven days."
"Wow, that's a lot of time. How'd you manage that?"
Robert chuckled. "I actually only asked for three. The general must have been feeling generous and gave me a week. That, and the fact that SG-11's leader is laid up with a broken leg for three weeks and we can't go anywhere."
"How is that going?"
"What, SG-11?" Robert asked, confused. "It's going okay, I guess. It's not like it used to be. Then again, nothing else is either." Robert was quiet for a moment, before speaking again. "What's the plan, Daniel? I'll do what I can in the time I have, you know that."
"I know, Robert and I appreciate it. I don't have a plan yet, but I'm working on one. I need more information. I need a laptop with a good enough connection to gather the information I couldn't get while in prison."
"Well, you're in luck. I brought you a little gift. Ernest is setting it up as we speak," Robert said, his voice merry. "There is one more thing, though," he added, his voice losing the humor it held.
"What is it?"
"I told O'Neill about the parole and where you were going to stay."
Daniel's eyes widened in surprise, but he didn't say anything for a while. "Why?" he finally asked.
"He has a right to know, Daniel. He wants to help you. He's always wanted to help, you just wouldn't let him."
Daniel felt his stomach clenching at the thought of having to face Jack again and felt irrational anger at Robert for telling him.
"How did you tell him?"
Robert narrowed his eyes and stared at Daniel, as if trying to gauge his reaction.
"I sent him a letter through an airman, disguised as an archaeological survey. I haven't spoken to him, so I don't know if he got it."
Daniel shook his head. "I didn't want him involved. I don't want Sam or Teal'c involved either, Robert."
"Why not? Do you have any idea how much they tried to help once they got back to Earth? They would have moved heaven and earth for you if they'd thought it would do any good. It was devastating to all of them, especially O'Neill."
Daniel snorted. "I didn't know that you and Jack were such close friends."
"That's low, Daniel and you know it," Robert replied, his voice hardening slightly. "O'Neill and I aren't good friends. You didn't have to be close to him to see how much having you in prison hurt him and all of SG-1. The entire base knew it. And they did try to clear you, just like we did. But there was nothing there."
"I don't want to face them, Robert. I'm not who I used to be and I don't want them to take one look at me and decide that I'm not worth the effort anymore," Daniel said sadly.
"What makes you think that they'd take one look at you and not want to be bothered?" Robert asked.
"I don't know. I just know that we're not like we used to be anymore. We've all changed."
"Why don't you let them decide that for themselves? You owe them that much, you know."
Daniel glared at Robert, fighting down the urge to punch him. After a tense moment, he got up from the bench.
"Come on, Robert, let's head back before Ernest gets mad that we missed dinner. He's very picky about that, you know."