Chapter 12 - Running the Gauntlet
By mid-evening the catering staff were clearing away the last of the tables, chairs and other paraphernalia that General Hammond had imported for his many guests, who had now departed - some quickly to tell their friends and families, others lingering, wondering what to do next. He sat with Sam and Jack in his front room, they being his only overnight guests. George was reclining in his favourite armchair, while the O'Neill's ('strange to be calling them that.' thought The General) sat side-by-side on the large sofa.
"Are you sure about this, George?" Jack asked. "We know that some people don't like having dogs in the house. It kinda restricts our circle of friends."
"What? And have the kids in open rebellion?" replied Hammond, chuckling. "The damage you've done will last long beyond today. They've already been on the phone to their parents demanding to have one of their own. To them, the Stargate news was nothing compared to the urgency of that request. You owe me, Jack, and you're no better, Major... Sorry, *Sam*."
"Why, what did I do?" she asked in mock coyness.
"I overheard you asking them which breeds were most like some of the guests!" Hammond retorted. "And for the record, I am *not* like a bulldog!"
"I can't believe you did that!" said Jack to his wife in a tone so false that lie detectors in the next state should have been set buzzing. A thin, coy smile appeared momentarily on her face.
They savoured a few moments of silence before all their thoughts returned to the situation of the day, sipping occasionally from their glasses of fine malt whiskey. It was Jack who summed up their situation.
"At least the dogs will wake us up if any reporters come sneaking around in the night." he sighed. "With any luck, though, they'll hold off till morning and then it'll be the survival of the fittest."
"Yes, it's going to be a trial of wills, all right." said Hammond. "How little we can get away with saying until we're ready, while they'll want it all straight away. Are you really that worried about it, Jack? You've always handled the press easily enough in the past."
"It's not the initial contact I'm concerned about." replied Jack. "It's when someone spills the fact that I'm a walking encyclopaedia with no index and a lot of missing pages. If our own government doesn't get the men in white coats to link me up to the nearest supercomputer to try to extract what's left, I can think of a few others that would do it." He placed his empty glass back on the side-table. "I could use a few ideas right now, I'll admit."
"What about something like the Witness Protection Program?" asked Sam. "They could hide us away with new identities."
"No!" said Jack. "You've got too much to lose if we do that. And life certainly isn't too pleasant for people in that situation, Sam. No, I won't do anything that stops you getting the rewards and recognition for your efforts. If it weren't for you, there wouldn't be an operating Stargate. You're going to be famous."
"Even if I don't particularly want to be?" said Sam, much to the surprise of the other two. "We'll talk about this some more later, Jack. Whatever happens, we're in this together. Just bear that in mind."
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As the three of them lay in bed that night - yes, you know, Jack and his two Sam's - in the large guest bedroom, Jack hadn't said much at all. His elbow was planted firmly in the middle of his pillow to support his head and he lay facing his wife. She lay on her side facing him, her forehead resting on his chest. His free hand played softly with the hair behind her ear where he knew she revelled in his touch, while she plucked gently at the hairs on his chest.
"I've said before that I won't do anything to hold you back, Sam." he said in a low voice at last. "I want to stay with you more than anything in the world, but..."
"No!" she said firmly, pulling back a little and looking up at him. "You can cut that out right now! Read my lips, Jack. We're. In. This. Together. What did I just say?"
He sighed and mumbled something incomprehensible.
"What was that?" she insisted. "I didn't catch it."
"Undomesticated equines couldn't pull us apart." he said.
"That's right." she smiled. "Listen, before we got together, the fame and fortune bit would have meant a lot more to me. But don't you understand just how good you make me feel about my life and what we can do? I can still do some of the things I want to, important things to me anyway, but those I can't, well, I've got something better instead. I've got you for as long as you want me. I am so completely in love with you, Jack. Don't you dare take that away from me."
"That's a promise." he replied softly, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. He leaned over, pushing her head back onto the pillow, and they kissed gently, interrupted only by the canine grunts from the foot of the bed.
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As they had predicted, the media chorus was camped just outside Hammond's front gate soon after dawn. The first newsman to knock on the front door had been greeted by a snarling Sam 2 in full defence mode, and he leapt backwards from the doorbell as Jack opened the door. However, he quickly recovered.
"General Hammond?" enquired the reporter.
"No." replied Jack. "Get off his property. Now." He made as if to let go of his dog's collar and the newsman backed away quickly, as Jack shut the front door again.
"That's not going to work for long." said George Hammond. "I've called for a detachment of SF's to help control things. I'll go out to talk to them when they've got here and you've had a chance to get away."
"You sure?" asked Jack. "I don't want you to feel we're deserting you."
"I've handled worse in the Appropriations Committees." laughed Hammond. "Just you two get away safely, but be ready to come back in a week or so when we'll need you for the official press open day at the SGC."
Sam and Jack duly appeared out of the front door a short while later, throwing their overnight bag into the back of the truck and installing the dogs in the cab.
"Jonathan O'Neill?" yelled one reporter. "That's who the truck's registered to. Are you with the Stargate program?"
"One 'l' or two?" Jack retorted. "I'm the other one."
"What do you do in the program, Jonathan?" yelled a woman newshound.
"I'm in charge of the Stationery Section." said Jack, his voice level and steady. "I'm rightly proud that no planet has been visited without the requisite forms, report pads and wormhole-resistant paper clips. And all done at minimum cost to the taxpayer!"
"What's a 'wormhole-resistant paper clip, Jonathan?" cried another voice from the second row. "Are they de-classified yet?"
"That's 'need to know', feller!" replied Jack.
"Are you with the Program as well, Ma'am?" shouted yet another voice.
"Why, yes!" said Sam, her accent mysteriously changed to that of a Southern drawl, much to Jack's surprise. "I was his secretary, y'all know? Until they caught us frat'nising in the stationery cupboard, that is. Downright unsportin' of 'em to make me leave like that. I got my man, though." she said, wiggling her ring finger at them. Flashbulbs popped crazily.
Attention turned back to Jack. "Jonathan! Can you tell us if there are aliens amongst us now?"
"Not on this side of the fence!" he shouted back. "Say, does anyone want my manuscript for my autobiography?"
Cries of "Yes!" and "Over here, Jonathan!" came from several directions. The only sensible question came from a small man half-hidden by the hedge. "What's it called?" he asked.
"'Ten Years of Intergalactic Envelope Covers', or 'The Twilight of a Mediocre Career'." said Jack, keeping a straight face. "Any takers? Listen, guys, the General is the person to speak to. If you'll just be patient, he be out shortly. Now clear a space to let us out, will you?"
The crowd moved reluctantly out of the way as Jack climbed into the passenger seat and Sam got in behind the wheel. She gunned the engine and they allowed the truck to pass, expending reels of film as it eased into the road. They hadn't gone far when it became apparent that one press car was following close behind them.
"Do you think you can lose him, Sam?" said Jack, looking out the back.
"No problem." replied Sam with a grin. "The tow bar on the back's firmly fixed, isn't it?"
"Sure is." Jack confirmed. "Just don't blitz him too much, OK?"
"Brace yourself." she stated, only moments before slamming on the brakes. The reporter's car stopped with a screech of tyres just behind them, but the driver's reactions were far too slow to avoid Sam suddenly reversing into his car, the ball joint on the tow bar piercing the radiator just enough to terminate the pursuit.
Sam leaned out of the driver's window, looking back.
"Bye, y'all!" she shouted, and accelerated away. It was an enjoyable respite from the trials to come.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
By mid-evening the catering staff were clearing away the last of the tables, chairs and other paraphernalia that General Hammond had imported for his many guests, who had now departed - some quickly to tell their friends and families, others lingering, wondering what to do next. He sat with Sam and Jack in his front room, they being his only overnight guests. George was reclining in his favourite armchair, while the O'Neill's ('strange to be calling them that.' thought The General) sat side-by-side on the large sofa.
"Are you sure about this, George?" Jack asked. "We know that some people don't like having dogs in the house. It kinda restricts our circle of friends."
"What? And have the kids in open rebellion?" replied Hammond, chuckling. "The damage you've done will last long beyond today. They've already been on the phone to their parents demanding to have one of their own. To them, the Stargate news was nothing compared to the urgency of that request. You owe me, Jack, and you're no better, Major... Sorry, *Sam*."
"Why, what did I do?" she asked in mock coyness.
"I overheard you asking them which breeds were most like some of the guests!" Hammond retorted. "And for the record, I am *not* like a bulldog!"
"I can't believe you did that!" said Jack to his wife in a tone so false that lie detectors in the next state should have been set buzzing. A thin, coy smile appeared momentarily on her face.
They savoured a few moments of silence before all their thoughts returned to the situation of the day, sipping occasionally from their glasses of fine malt whiskey. It was Jack who summed up their situation.
"At least the dogs will wake us up if any reporters come sneaking around in the night." he sighed. "With any luck, though, they'll hold off till morning and then it'll be the survival of the fittest."
"Yes, it's going to be a trial of wills, all right." said Hammond. "How little we can get away with saying until we're ready, while they'll want it all straight away. Are you really that worried about it, Jack? You've always handled the press easily enough in the past."
"It's not the initial contact I'm concerned about." replied Jack. "It's when someone spills the fact that I'm a walking encyclopaedia with no index and a lot of missing pages. If our own government doesn't get the men in white coats to link me up to the nearest supercomputer to try to extract what's left, I can think of a few others that would do it." He placed his empty glass back on the side-table. "I could use a few ideas right now, I'll admit."
"What about something like the Witness Protection Program?" asked Sam. "They could hide us away with new identities."
"No!" said Jack. "You've got too much to lose if we do that. And life certainly isn't too pleasant for people in that situation, Sam. No, I won't do anything that stops you getting the rewards and recognition for your efforts. If it weren't for you, there wouldn't be an operating Stargate. You're going to be famous."
"Even if I don't particularly want to be?" said Sam, much to the surprise of the other two. "We'll talk about this some more later, Jack. Whatever happens, we're in this together. Just bear that in mind."
XXXXXXXXXXXX
As the three of them lay in bed that night - yes, you know, Jack and his two Sam's - in the large guest bedroom, Jack hadn't said much at all. His elbow was planted firmly in the middle of his pillow to support his head and he lay facing his wife. She lay on her side facing him, her forehead resting on his chest. His free hand played softly with the hair behind her ear where he knew she revelled in his touch, while she plucked gently at the hairs on his chest.
"I've said before that I won't do anything to hold you back, Sam." he said in a low voice at last. "I want to stay with you more than anything in the world, but..."
"No!" she said firmly, pulling back a little and looking up at him. "You can cut that out right now! Read my lips, Jack. We're. In. This. Together. What did I just say?"
He sighed and mumbled something incomprehensible.
"What was that?" she insisted. "I didn't catch it."
"Undomesticated equines couldn't pull us apart." he said.
"That's right." she smiled. "Listen, before we got together, the fame and fortune bit would have meant a lot more to me. But don't you understand just how good you make me feel about my life and what we can do? I can still do some of the things I want to, important things to me anyway, but those I can't, well, I've got something better instead. I've got you for as long as you want me. I am so completely in love with you, Jack. Don't you dare take that away from me."
"That's a promise." he replied softly, feeling somewhat overwhelmed. He leaned over, pushing her head back onto the pillow, and they kissed gently, interrupted only by the canine grunts from the foot of the bed.
XXXXXXXXXXXX
As they had predicted, the media chorus was camped just outside Hammond's front gate soon after dawn. The first newsman to knock on the front door had been greeted by a snarling Sam 2 in full defence mode, and he leapt backwards from the doorbell as Jack opened the door. However, he quickly recovered.
"General Hammond?" enquired the reporter.
"No." replied Jack. "Get off his property. Now." He made as if to let go of his dog's collar and the newsman backed away quickly, as Jack shut the front door again.
"That's not going to work for long." said George Hammond. "I've called for a detachment of SF's to help control things. I'll go out to talk to them when they've got here and you've had a chance to get away."
"You sure?" asked Jack. "I don't want you to feel we're deserting you."
"I've handled worse in the Appropriations Committees." laughed Hammond. "Just you two get away safely, but be ready to come back in a week or so when we'll need you for the official press open day at the SGC."
Sam and Jack duly appeared out of the front door a short while later, throwing their overnight bag into the back of the truck and installing the dogs in the cab.
"Jonathan O'Neill?" yelled one reporter. "That's who the truck's registered to. Are you with the Stargate program?"
"One 'l' or two?" Jack retorted. "I'm the other one."
"What do you do in the program, Jonathan?" yelled a woman newshound.
"I'm in charge of the Stationery Section." said Jack, his voice level and steady. "I'm rightly proud that no planet has been visited without the requisite forms, report pads and wormhole-resistant paper clips. And all done at minimum cost to the taxpayer!"
"What's a 'wormhole-resistant paper clip, Jonathan?" cried another voice from the second row. "Are they de-classified yet?"
"That's 'need to know', feller!" replied Jack.
"Are you with the Program as well, Ma'am?" shouted yet another voice.
"Why, yes!" said Sam, her accent mysteriously changed to that of a Southern drawl, much to Jack's surprise. "I was his secretary, y'all know? Until they caught us frat'nising in the stationery cupboard, that is. Downright unsportin' of 'em to make me leave like that. I got my man, though." she said, wiggling her ring finger at them. Flashbulbs popped crazily.
Attention turned back to Jack. "Jonathan! Can you tell us if there are aliens amongst us now?"
"Not on this side of the fence!" he shouted back. "Say, does anyone want my manuscript for my autobiography?"
Cries of "Yes!" and "Over here, Jonathan!" came from several directions. The only sensible question came from a small man half-hidden by the hedge. "What's it called?" he asked.
"'Ten Years of Intergalactic Envelope Covers', or 'The Twilight of a Mediocre Career'." said Jack, keeping a straight face. "Any takers? Listen, guys, the General is the person to speak to. If you'll just be patient, he be out shortly. Now clear a space to let us out, will you?"
The crowd moved reluctantly out of the way as Jack climbed into the passenger seat and Sam got in behind the wheel. She gunned the engine and they allowed the truck to pass, expending reels of film as it eased into the road. They hadn't gone far when it became apparent that one press car was following close behind them.
"Do you think you can lose him, Sam?" said Jack, looking out the back.
"No problem." replied Sam with a grin. "The tow bar on the back's firmly fixed, isn't it?"
"Sure is." Jack confirmed. "Just don't blitz him too much, OK?"
"Brace yourself." she stated, only moments before slamming on the brakes. The reporter's car stopped with a screech of tyres just behind them, but the driver's reactions were far too slow to avoid Sam suddenly reversing into his car, the ball joint on the tow bar piercing the radiator just enough to terminate the pursuit.
Sam leaned out of the driver's window, looking back.
"Bye, y'all!" she shouted, and accelerated away. It was an enjoyable respite from the trials to come.
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