Chapter 7 - Subterfuge

The rain beating against the small window that overlooked nothing more than a drab grey street behind the docks had finally caused her to snap.

"Oh, for crying out loud!" said Jen Hailey, her patience having worn out. "Just remember why we're doing this, *Lieutenant*." Grogan stepped a pace back from her side and looked really upset at her use of his military rank - the first time she had done it since they had begun their monumental game of hide-and-seek with the Andan authorities.

"It has never strayed from my mind,*Ma'am*!" he responded, snapping to attention. "Permission to leave and drown my sorrows while you spend another evening with your favourite SHB security guard, Ma'am! And don't worry, I won't be anywhere near your bar, so you can make out as much as you want with him."

Jen sighed and put down the iron she had been using to smarten up her best work dress. Her shoulders slumped and she sounded dejected. "Jeff, look, I know it's hard for us, but I really don't need this kind of pressure right now. You know why we're doing these things. I've told you before; whatever we mean to each other is on hold until we can see we're getting off this shitty planet! And if you forget that, or you screw up and set us back after we've got this far, then so help me, I'll.." Her voice had slowly risen in volume and she didn't realise that she was nearly shouting.

"I'll do it for you." came O'Neill's quiet voice in the background. They both looked round suddenly, unaware that he had arrived 'home'. The three- roomed hovel in the back streets of the port of Jobe had sheltered them since they had arrived, and they were now regarded by the locals as just another family of travellers working out the year as casual labourers. Each of them could have told anyone who asked that they had been here for one hundred and sixteen days without looking it up.

"Just can it for now, OK kids?" Jack continued, the water dripping off his face onto his wet clothes. "I got a small problem here that needs attention first." He swayed gently in the doorway and for the first time they noticed the red stain spreading around the edges of the hand that he was clasping to his left side.

"Jesus, Jack!" cried Jen, moving across to help him onto one of the wooden chairs by the small table. "What happened?"

"Territorial dispute. You should see the other guy." he gasped as he sat down. "Just clean it up, OK? I don't think his knife penetrated far." Jen and Jeff helped him off with the oversized, rough tunic that he'd 'inherited' from Teal'c, and suddenly he looked a little more like the Colonel they knew and a little less like the rough street beggar whose persona fitted like a glove. His grey beard was a good match for his hair, which had lost all vestiges of its former colour since they had arrived on Andar. Grogan and Hailey knew that they wouldn't get much of the story out of him unless it was relevant to their escape plan and didn't try, just concentrating instead on stripping off his undershirt, then cleaning and dressing his wound. Their investment of hard-earned money in a comprehensive range of medical items was paying off, and not for the first time.

"You gonna carry on with this, Jack?" asked Grogan. "I could get you signed on in the warehouse I'm working in at the moment if you want. They're looking for clerks and tally-men. Easier than walking the streets."

"No, but thanks anyway." Jack replied. "The other beggars won't try that again after today. No, this gets me around town, and the spot under the bridge opposite the local Safety and Health Bureau building is just right to see who's coming and going. Pay's better too!"

They couldn't argue with that. On some days Jack brought home 'takings' from begging that were nearly equivalent to Jeff's weekly pay as a labourer, or Jen's wage as a bar-girl. But she was rapidly catching him up as she had grown more skilled and confident in ways of leading on the men who frequented the place, knowing how to get their interest but keeping them at just enough distance to avoid the attention she definitely didn't want. More than once her hand-to-hand combat training had proven an aid to keeping things running to her agenda and not theirs. As she got better at this job, so Jeff had felt more uncomfortable, and had long since learned not to hang around in the bar when she was working.

The current object of her attention was a security guard who worked at the Safety and Health Bureau. He was quite smitten as well as being quite married, and spent most of his time in the evenings at the bar flirting with her before going to his duties. Using this to her advantage, she had persuaded him that she needed an additional job to make ends meet and had got an introduction to the head cleaner at the Bureau, who took her on. And so, for the last fifty days she had grown increasingly tired after finishing the bar work at midnight and then moving on to the night cleaning shift, only returning home at dawn to flop into bed exhausted. Frequently it coincided with Jeff's time to rise and go to his work in the docks. But the documents she'd seen in the empty offices had given them all an insight into the real nature of Andan society, and the sure knowledge that almost any risk taken to get away was worthwhile. The Andan government reminded them of nothing so much as a version of Orwell's '1984', where simple, unquestioning obedience brought a certain level of satisfaction in the form of a simple, unquestioning life, all regulated by a bureaucracy that made other societies seem like orgiastic butterflies. This in turn meant that corruption was endemic, and life outside the elite ruling corps was cheap.

Every rest-day the three of them updated their cumulative knowledge of the Andans and any means by which they might get through the Stargate. Jack had explained at the outset that the Gate had to be used for interplanetary trade, and so there must be regular sea traffic from a port to the island where the Gate was located. And if there was traffic, then there was a way off. Likewise, if the trade was regulated by the SHB, an insider's knowledge would help them on their way. Simple as that. But one hundred and sixteen days spent to date - with maybe many more to come - had been a severe test of everyone's patience, and both the junior officers knew only too well that Jack's guidance in keeping them focussed had been a life- saver.

But he too was prone to periods of bleak introspection when he lay alone, the cold knife of self-doubt pricking his heart. Only his unwavering determination to see his current 'kids' safe and off-world kept him from showing the world his concern. He cursed himself for his weakness after waking from vivid dreams of people dying either at his hands or those of others, and of loves lost - his son, his ex-wife, his ex-future.

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"I don't like it either, Major." said General Hammond, and Sam knew that he meant it. "But this order comes directly from The Pentagon and is unequivocal. Both Doctor Jackson and yourelf are regarded as assets too valuable to be risked in off-world missions until the security risk is deemed to have diminished. And with the effective suspension of SG-1, Teal'c is to be permitted to return to his people as requested. He leaves tomorrow."

Sam knew by now not to argue with the General. She had pushed her CO to the limit during the last three months by her continual protests over the failure to mount a rescue mission, coupled with the different plans she had submitted for large or small-scale attempts. Hammond had sympathised at first, but the unyielding refusal of the Joint Chiefs to authorise any such operation had tied his hands.

She was about to ask permission to leave his office when the surprise came. "However, Major, in view of your noted concern about this matter," said Hammond dryly, "I have arranged for the Andan Ambassador to be escorted via this office in a few minutes time on his way back from Washington. If you were to question him - in a civil manner, of course - then we may be able to accomplish a small step forward. I am under orders not to discuss the matter of Colonel O'Neill with him, but you were not mentioned specifically. Understood, Major?"

"Yes, Sir. Thank you." she replied curtly, as she started to think furiously about how the question could be put. The noise of footsteps outside gave her only seconds.

"Ah, Ambassador." said Hammond as he stood to greet the man. "I trust your meeting was able to make progress?"

"General." replied the man in a rather cold fashion. "Progress is always a feature, although of necessity some steps forward are longer than others." He turned to Sam and smiled. "And who might this charming lady be?"

"I'm Major Carter, Sir." Sam replied, fighting the wave of repulsion that came over her. "I led the negotiating teams on Andar for a short while a few months back. We had to leave quickly when your guards tried to detain us."

The Ambassador's face fell. "Ah. So you were the reckless soldier that left two of our militia wounded at the Stargate and two others who were fired upon in their boats. A regrettable incident. Are you here to apologise?"

"I do regret that those men were hurt when we defended ourselves, Sir." she replied, still standing at attention.

"As I said, a regrettable incident." he replied, the false smile reappearing. "It held back the trade pact for some time. But steps forward have, as I said, been taken."

Sam knew that the moment of her last chance with him had arrived. "When will Colonel O'Neill be returned to us, Sir?"

The Andan looked at her sharply. He paused before responding, "When we have found him, Major Carter. After he has been tried and sentenced for the murder of an army officer - the favourite nephew of one of our elders, in fact. His body will be returned to you after execution."

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