Section 30: Briefing
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Jack sighed contentedly as he sank into one of his usual chairs in the briefing room. Tired and freshly clean, the familiarity around him was comforting. Daniel sat across from him with a cup of coffee, Teal'c, tall and straight next to him. Sam's shoulder wound had kept her in the infirmary where John and Aeryn were also waiting at the Doc's request until their blood tests came back from the lab. D'argo had just come out of surgery when the three members of SG-1 had left for the briefing.
"At ease people," said General Hammond before Jack even had half a chance to rise. Settling himself at the head of the table, the General turned to Jack. "So, an alternate reality," he began the briefing.
Jack took it from there. "There's this whole thing with wormholes . . ."
"Jack," said Daniel gently with a smile. The Colonel graciously let the archeologist continue. "According to John Crichton wormhole systems open into every place and time giving us alternate realities. He thinks that the stargate essentially keeps us in one system that shares the same time so we can go to different places in the same reality. I'm sure Sam will go into it in depth in her report, but that's the basic idea. What he and Sam think happened was a breach in our stargate system that let us out into the overall wormhole and then into their reality."
"And how did you get back if you could have ended up anywhere?"
"Crichton can navigate wormholes," said Jack. "He wasn't too clear on how he did it."
"He told Major Carter and me that he navigated by smell," Teal'c spoke up. "I believe he mentioned French toast."
"French toast?" both Jack and Hammond chorused, wondering just where that had come from.
"I do not understand what breakfast has to do with wormholes either," said Teal'c archly.
"And these people," said the General. "What are your impressions of them?"
"They're good people," said Jack immediately, seconded by Daniel and a nod from Teal'c. He went on to explain briefly about Chiana and how they met D'argo and Rygel. "They trusted us on their ship and to help them rescue John and Aeryn. And then they got us back here. They're very committed to each other and I don't suggest pissing them off."
"How dangerous are they?" Hammond asked sharply.
"I believe they'll only be a threat if we provoke them," said Daniel. "And I promised Aeryn we wouldn't let anything happen to them here." Daniel looked at Jack as he said this. The Colonel read the determination and silent defiant demand for back up should anything go down and solemnly nodded.
"From what little they said, I gathered that they've survived their own share of being hunted, captured, and tortured," Jack added quietly.
"Understood," said Hammond. "Colonel, if you would offer them the VIP suites for their stay until their companion has recovered. You're on stand down for the next three days once you get your reports in. Dismissed."
"Thank you, sir," Jack stood as his CO retreated to his office. Without a word, Daniel and Teal'c fell in beside him and they headed back to the infirmary.
"So, pizza and movies at your house tomorrow night?" suggested Daniel with a sideways glance at Jack. A little surprised that Daniel was the one suggesting the get-together, Jack nodded.
"Sounds good," he said.
Daniel smiled. "Good."
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"Mr. Crichton?" the doctor's soft voice roused John from a light doze. A quick glance around found Aeryn paused in her conversation with Sam on the next bed, wondering what was going on. "We weren't properly introduced earlier. I'm Doctor Janet Frasier, chief medical officer for the base. I was wondering if I could have a word with you in my office?"
"About what?" asked John, surprised by the request. She didn't look particularly threatening, but still, what did she want?
"I'm just curious about some of the test results we got back," Dr. Frasier answered with a reassuring smile. Beside him Aeryn tensed, but Sam remained calm.
"What's going on?" the downed scientist asked
Frasier shook her head. "I'm not sure. That's why I'd like to talk to Mr. Crichton." She waited for John to rise and follow her.
Curious himself now and still a little leery of the situation, John settled into the offered chair while the doctor closed the door.
"First, I'd like to reassure you that I don't think anything is wrong. Your blood tests all came back fine," said Dr. Frasier. She sat behind her desk and picked up a brain scan from the top of the paper clutter. John just knew what she was going to ask about. "But your CAT scan . . . was interesting. Did you know that you have an anomalous section of brain tissue?"
John met the intense eyes that were probing his. "Yeah," he said shortly, not wanting to think about that dark time. "What of it?"
Dr. Frasier looked back at the scan, self-consciously. "Well, it almost looks like a transplant," she began, "and given how deep it is, I'm surprised you don't have serious brain damage." She looked at him again. "Frankly I'm not sure what to make of it."
"Frankly, it's none of your business."
"If it makes you a threat to this base, then it is my business," the doctor replied. "If it was the result of a recent wound or torture there could be other trauma. I have experience dealing with neural implants. I can help you if you let me," she added sincerely, and John saw that she really was concerned about the mismatched part of his head.
"It happened two years ago," John offered. "Done by a professional with this tool thing that isolated what I needed out. He replaced it with a close match from a donor. Except for some memory loss, there was no lasting damage."
"No lasting damage?" the doc repeated with a skeptical raise of her eyebrows.
John shrugged again and let her read what she would from it. He really didn't want to talk about chips and Scorpy right now. "Do I look crazy to you?"
"No," Dr. Frasier sighed. "You don't. Why that section though?"
"Had to get rid of a little voice in my ear," said John dryly.
"Voices, huh?" the doctor gave him a sour smile.
"Voice?!" Harvey echoed indignantly. "Do I look like a voice to you?" In the middle of an idyllic green pasture, Harvey wore a light blue body suit with a golden halo on his chest. White fluffy wings sprouted from his back, extending out in an impressive display. In a ridiculous yellow bodysuit of his own, John glared at him, unimpressed.
"Alright, Mr. Crichton," the doc drew his mind back to the matter at hand. "I understand you don't want to talk about it." She smiled at him, perhaps not happily, but it was still a smile, and for that John was grateful. "You'll be happy to hear that your friend is recovering nicely. I got the Goa'uld out and patched his tentacle back together. I'm not sure how his blood toxin affected him yet but he should be up and around within a day or so."
"Thanks, Doctor," John said, getting to his feet as she did. "When can we see him?"
"Once he wakes up," she said sternly, leading him back into the main room. As they rejoined Sam and Aeryn at the major's bed, the rest of SG-1 came back from their briefing. Aeryn pulled John aside while the others greeted Sam.
"What was that about?" she asked quietly in Sebacean.
"She was wondering about my brain surgery," answered John in the same language.
"Are we going to have a problem?"
"She was just concerned. Really, Aeryn," he added off his mate's suspicious stare. "I got the impression that she takes her job very seriously. D'argo's going to be fine, by the way."
Aeryn nodded, glancing around the room as she did so. John followed her eyes taking in the people around the bed nearby, the nurses working in the corner, the guard by the door. "It's not them I don't trust," she said.
"One thing at a time, baby," John took her hand in his. "One thing at a time."
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Quick AN, 12/9/03: Pathways has been updated, but as you can see with no new post. I just got through revising sections 1-30 and reposted them. If you see anymore typos or grammar flubs, or stuff that just doesn't sit well, let me know and I'll fix it. Thanks for sticking with this story. It really means a lot.
*
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Jack sighed contentedly as he sank into one of his usual chairs in the briefing room. Tired and freshly clean, the familiarity around him was comforting. Daniel sat across from him with a cup of coffee, Teal'c, tall and straight next to him. Sam's shoulder wound had kept her in the infirmary where John and Aeryn were also waiting at the Doc's request until their blood tests came back from the lab. D'argo had just come out of surgery when the three members of SG-1 had left for the briefing.
"At ease people," said General Hammond before Jack even had half a chance to rise. Settling himself at the head of the table, the General turned to Jack. "So, an alternate reality," he began the briefing.
Jack took it from there. "There's this whole thing with wormholes . . ."
"Jack," said Daniel gently with a smile. The Colonel graciously let the archeologist continue. "According to John Crichton wormhole systems open into every place and time giving us alternate realities. He thinks that the stargate essentially keeps us in one system that shares the same time so we can go to different places in the same reality. I'm sure Sam will go into it in depth in her report, but that's the basic idea. What he and Sam think happened was a breach in our stargate system that let us out into the overall wormhole and then into their reality."
"And how did you get back if you could have ended up anywhere?"
"Crichton can navigate wormholes," said Jack. "He wasn't too clear on how he did it."
"He told Major Carter and me that he navigated by smell," Teal'c spoke up. "I believe he mentioned French toast."
"French toast?" both Jack and Hammond chorused, wondering just where that had come from.
"I do not understand what breakfast has to do with wormholes either," said Teal'c archly.
"And these people," said the General. "What are your impressions of them?"
"They're good people," said Jack immediately, seconded by Daniel and a nod from Teal'c. He went on to explain briefly about Chiana and how they met D'argo and Rygel. "They trusted us on their ship and to help them rescue John and Aeryn. And then they got us back here. They're very committed to each other and I don't suggest pissing them off."
"How dangerous are they?" Hammond asked sharply.
"I believe they'll only be a threat if we provoke them," said Daniel. "And I promised Aeryn we wouldn't let anything happen to them here." Daniel looked at Jack as he said this. The Colonel read the determination and silent defiant demand for back up should anything go down and solemnly nodded.
"From what little they said, I gathered that they've survived their own share of being hunted, captured, and tortured," Jack added quietly.
"Understood," said Hammond. "Colonel, if you would offer them the VIP suites for their stay until their companion has recovered. You're on stand down for the next three days once you get your reports in. Dismissed."
"Thank you, sir," Jack stood as his CO retreated to his office. Without a word, Daniel and Teal'c fell in beside him and they headed back to the infirmary.
"So, pizza and movies at your house tomorrow night?" suggested Daniel with a sideways glance at Jack. A little surprised that Daniel was the one suggesting the get-together, Jack nodded.
"Sounds good," he said.
Daniel smiled. "Good."
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"Mr. Crichton?" the doctor's soft voice roused John from a light doze. A quick glance around found Aeryn paused in her conversation with Sam on the next bed, wondering what was going on. "We weren't properly introduced earlier. I'm Doctor Janet Frasier, chief medical officer for the base. I was wondering if I could have a word with you in my office?"
"About what?" asked John, surprised by the request. She didn't look particularly threatening, but still, what did she want?
"I'm just curious about some of the test results we got back," Dr. Frasier answered with a reassuring smile. Beside him Aeryn tensed, but Sam remained calm.
"What's going on?" the downed scientist asked
Frasier shook her head. "I'm not sure. That's why I'd like to talk to Mr. Crichton." She waited for John to rise and follow her.
Curious himself now and still a little leery of the situation, John settled into the offered chair while the doctor closed the door.
"First, I'd like to reassure you that I don't think anything is wrong. Your blood tests all came back fine," said Dr. Frasier. She sat behind her desk and picked up a brain scan from the top of the paper clutter. John just knew what she was going to ask about. "But your CAT scan . . . was interesting. Did you know that you have an anomalous section of brain tissue?"
John met the intense eyes that were probing his. "Yeah," he said shortly, not wanting to think about that dark time. "What of it?"
Dr. Frasier looked back at the scan, self-consciously. "Well, it almost looks like a transplant," she began, "and given how deep it is, I'm surprised you don't have serious brain damage." She looked at him again. "Frankly I'm not sure what to make of it."
"Frankly, it's none of your business."
"If it makes you a threat to this base, then it is my business," the doctor replied. "If it was the result of a recent wound or torture there could be other trauma. I have experience dealing with neural implants. I can help you if you let me," she added sincerely, and John saw that she really was concerned about the mismatched part of his head.
"It happened two years ago," John offered. "Done by a professional with this tool thing that isolated what I needed out. He replaced it with a close match from a donor. Except for some memory loss, there was no lasting damage."
"No lasting damage?" the doc repeated with a skeptical raise of her eyebrows.
John shrugged again and let her read what she would from it. He really didn't want to talk about chips and Scorpy right now. "Do I look crazy to you?"
"No," Dr. Frasier sighed. "You don't. Why that section though?"
"Had to get rid of a little voice in my ear," said John dryly.
"Voices, huh?" the doctor gave him a sour smile.
"Voice?!" Harvey echoed indignantly. "Do I look like a voice to you?" In the middle of an idyllic green pasture, Harvey wore a light blue body suit with a golden halo on his chest. White fluffy wings sprouted from his back, extending out in an impressive display. In a ridiculous yellow bodysuit of his own, John glared at him, unimpressed.
"Alright, Mr. Crichton," the doc drew his mind back to the matter at hand. "I understand you don't want to talk about it." She smiled at him, perhaps not happily, but it was still a smile, and for that John was grateful. "You'll be happy to hear that your friend is recovering nicely. I got the Goa'uld out and patched his tentacle back together. I'm not sure how his blood toxin affected him yet but he should be up and around within a day or so."
"Thanks, Doctor," John said, getting to his feet as she did. "When can we see him?"
"Once he wakes up," she said sternly, leading him back into the main room. As they rejoined Sam and Aeryn at the major's bed, the rest of SG-1 came back from their briefing. Aeryn pulled John aside while the others greeted Sam.
"What was that about?" she asked quietly in Sebacean.
"She was wondering about my brain surgery," answered John in the same language.
"Are we going to have a problem?"
"She was just concerned. Really, Aeryn," he added off his mate's suspicious stare. "I got the impression that she takes her job very seriously. D'argo's going to be fine, by the way."
Aeryn nodded, glancing around the room as she did so. John followed her eyes taking in the people around the bed nearby, the nurses working in the corner, the guard by the door. "It's not them I don't trust," she said.
"One thing at a time, baby," John took her hand in his. "One thing at a time."
**************************************************************************** ********************************************************************
Quick AN, 12/9/03: Pathways has been updated, but as you can see with no new post. I just got through revising sections 1-30 and reposted them. If you see anymore typos or grammar flubs, or stuff that just doesn't sit well, let me know and I'll fix it. Thanks for sticking with this story. It really means a lot.
*