Chapter 20 – I Am Who I'm Not

"Jen!" cried the familiar voice behind her. "Where have you been?" Even though this was the very reason she had waited to be here on the street near the Safety and Health Bureau at just the right time, a nervous shudder ran through her and she composed her features quickly before turning round.

"Karra!" she cried on seeing him, hoping that the tone of her voice conveyed the right note of pleasure. "It's good seeing you too!" She gave an obviously admiring glance at his grey SHB uniform. "Don't you look handsome like that! I don't think I've ever seen you in full daylight before."

"That is so." he replied. "So many things are changing since the Gate disaster. I have other duties now at the Bureau and I just don't get to the bar in the evenings like I used to. How is it?"

"I, er, don't work there any more." said Jen a little sheepishly, having rehearsed not only her story but also the points of inflection. "I got sick and the boss didn't like me staying away that, and he told me not to come back. So then I went home with my father for a big family celebration and we only came back recently. Isn't it awful what's happened?" As she said the words she briefly hated herself, but at the same time wondered how she felt so confident that she could not only continue with this charade, but would see it through no matter what. She thought quickly about various ways of diverting the conversation away from herself.

"How has your wife been?" she said in a conspiratorial voice. "She didn't suspect anything about you coming to the bar every night, did she?"

"No, I don't think so." he replied equally softly, leaning towards her and looking around nervously as he spoke. "And your betrothed? Did he.....?"

Jen shook her head. The thought struck her that Jeff had been upset for so long with her work as a bar girl, but now that she respected and maybe loved him more than before, it was annoying that he didn't seem to be as jealous when she had suggested getting back with her previous contacts as a means to further their campaign. Bringing her thoughts back to the job in hand, she saw her opportunity with the man who had been so smitten with her.

"Karra, look, I know it isn't right to ask you, but I really need to find paying work right now. The head cleaner at the Bureau wouldn't see me because I was away for so long after I was sick." She paused and gave him a sultry smile. "Do you think you could, well....."

"Of course I will, Jen." replied Karra quickly. Fantasies of the two of them stealing moments together flashed through his mind and she didn't even need to finish asking. "I'll get him to take you back, just you see. Don't concern yourself." Illicit trading was nothing new between guards and other, more menial workers at the Bureau. A favour given was a favour owed – and would Jen owe him for this!

Jen looked round furtively to see that no-one else in uniform was watching them, and kissed him quickly on the cheek. "Thank you, Karra. You're nice." She smiled as he blushed.

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The back-street drinking room was as unwelcoming on the outside as it had been before the tidal wave caused by the Stargate explosion had flushed away years of grime from the narrow street near the docks, depositing a trail of sea-sand and jetsam in its wake. Anything remotely useful had been pillaged straight away, leaving only piles of timber from broken crates, trees and fences littering the cobbles. The warm Andan climate had quickly dried out the street and lower parts of buildings after the flood, bringing back the familiar smell – some, like Sam who hadn't lived here before, would say *stench* - of the slum area.

Jack entered the bar with a confident air about him, in spite of his obvious limp. Closely behind, Sam looked carefully but nonchalantly around at the chorus of rough male inhabitants, surprised into momentary silence by the presence of a woman, but more so by the return of Jack himself. They walked to an empty table at the side and sat on the wooden bench against the wall where they could look across the dimly-lit room in relative safety. A small man sauntered from behind a serving-desk in the far corner and approached them.

He looked at them both for a moment before speaking. "Didn't expect to see you back here, Mister Jak. Thought you might have drowned or been taken like old Tonn. His brother has been hoping you would come. Wants to know what happened that day at the Gate."

"That's between him and me." said Jack in a low voice that he knew would remind them all that he was indeed back, and still his own man. "A quart of ale and two clean cups, now. Look sharp!" The barman cast another glance at Sam and returned to the corner.

Minutes later, a swarthy man with only thin wisps of grey hair on the sides of his head approached them as they sipped at the deep brown liquid in their pewter cups. He sat opposite them and stared at Sam, who had yet to speak since she entered. She stared back at him, wearing an expression of mild distaste. He soon turned his gaze to Jack.

"You owe me." said the man gruffly.

Jack withdrew a small leather pouch from his tunic pocket and tossed it towards the stranger. It landed on the table in front of him. "There's half the down payment agreed. It's all you're getting for now. In all the excitement, the SHB guards didn't take it away from me at the Gate. The paper money dried out quite well, though."

"Where's the rest?" demanded the ruffian.

"It's all you're getting for now, as I said." replied Jack. "The other two didn't get through the Gate, so you've not strictly done anything for me yet."

"We kept our bargain and got you there. Not our fault if they didn't make it through." came the response. "What happened to Tonn?"

"He got shot before me, that's all I know." said Jack, shrugging his shoulders. "My friend who got us away from there didn't take him. If you want a guess, I'd say he's probably living in luxury in the basement of the SHB building, or gone to one of their camps already."

"We want our money." repeated the man, anger flashing through his eyes. "Perhaps you're offering the woman instead?" He nodded towards Sam as he spoke, and reached for the money pouch on the table.

His shock was complete as Sam quickly produced her combat knife from under the table, and scythed her arm down in one swift movement, just scraping the skin of his forearm as the weapon firmly pinned his tunic sleeve to the wooden table top. He tried to pull away but couldn't, and alarm spread to his features.

"Are you deaf as well as stupid?" she said belligerently, not taking her stare from his look of shock.

All eyes in the room were cast in their direction and silence reigned. Everyone heard Jack's next words. "I don't believe you've met my new wife. I could walk out of here now and she'd still carve your guts out. So be nice."

After another moment's tension, the man suddenly relaxed and laughed out loud. He glanced at Sam and she pulled the knife away, feeding it back into the sheath at her waist. The noise of background conversations slowly started up again and the waiter brought another metal cup to the table, which Jack filled from their ale jug.

"So, why have you returned, Jak?" the man asked.

"As you said, Brelok, we had a bargain." Jack replied. "The money was only the first part. I'm keeping the rest of it as *expenses* for the other part of our deal."

"What?" his adversary asked in surprise. Quickly the realisation dawned upon him. "You mean, you'd still help us free our families from the SHB camps? Why?"

"Because it's personal now." Jack replied. "They would have taken or killed us all at the Gate. You think I'm going to wait around until they try again?"

Brelok looked at Sam again and frowned. "But you just got bonded and brought your wife along? That doesn't make sense." He was unnerved by the way she carried an expression of dismissal every time she glanced back at him.

"Her choice." Jack muttered tersely.

"I was bored." Sam added. "You think perhaps I'm just some kind of house- keeper and bed-partner for him?"

"Obviously not." replied Brelok, as a flash of envy passed through his mind. But only the briefest of visions – he'd seen Jack take down opponents before and didn't want to be on the wrong side of him. He turned back to face him. "We hear tell that you were rescued at the Gate by a strange flyer. One that took you and then smashed the ferry boat afterwards. Who was that?"

"A family friend." said Jack nonchalantly. "And that's all you're going to know. But we're wasting time here. We'll only meet in private in future, no more discussions like this in public. The SHB was tracking Tonn to the Gate, not us." He paused for effect. "Tell Klint I want a meeting soon to plan the next steps."

Brelok's features could not conceal the shock he felt at Jack's use of that name.

"That's *Field Commander* Klint, in case you think it's a coincidence." said Jack. "We are acquainted."

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Sam waited until they were well out of earshot of anyone as they walked along the street together, her arm in his. "*Carve his guts out*, did I hear?" she asked, a note of amusement in her voice.

"Bed-partner?" he replied, a smirk across his own face.

She couldn't help smiling back. "Yeah, well, Jen's been teaching me some of the choicer expressions. It seems her time working in the bar was very *educational* in some respects."

"Expressions don't come any choicer than that round here." he replied. "Did she, er, explain any more about it?"

"No. Why?"

"I'll demonstrate tonight, if you like."

"Should I be worried?"

"Try 'thrilled'."

"Before or after?"

"Both, and 'during' as well."

"Now I'm worried."

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"Jen, you don't have to do this." Jack said calmly, intending for her to understand that it really was her free choice. "We have enough useful intel to go with the next phase right now."

"No, Jack." came her determined reply. "You know that the risk now is much lower than it will be later. I can do this. One last time."

That was the wrong thing to say, she suddenly realised. Jack's stare was unnerving: they all knew that superstitious actors never mentioned the name of a certain Shakespearian play, and that the fatal words 'One Last Time' were an omen that hard-nosed ops personnel couldn't quite square away with a rational outlook. Jen looked around the table in turn at Sam and Jeff: even he was not disposed to argue with her.

"So I go." she added with finality. "Quit worrying..... Dad." She grinned at him, rose and walked to the small room that she and Grogan had labelled 'theirs' and quickly got changed into her normal attire for another night- time spent as a cleaner. But this time, knowing that Jack would probably want her to do it anyway before she left, she strapped her Beretta around her waist under her overalls and put two extra clips in her inside pocket.

"See you back here at dawn!" she said cheerily, kissing the top of Jeff's head as he remained sitting. He quickly squeezed the hand she had placed on his shoulder before she left the room quickly. The others remained seated in a silence that seemed to be driven by Jack's attitude.

"Jack?" asked Sam at length. He was almost radiating concern, something she had seen him do occasionally over the years, and she had come to respect it as a sign that whatever he did next would be based on instinct rather than logic. She trusted his instincts more than his logic.

He looked back at her quizzical expression, taking in Grogan's air of expectancy at the same time. He realised that he wouldn't have to justify what he was planning, that they would both accept it as necessary. The bond that was developing between the four of them was becoming increasingly evident to him as each week had passed.

"How many of those multipliers have you brought back here?" he asked Jeff.

"Twelve so far." replied Grogan. "I can't make it too obvious. The salvage crews in the docks are searched at random by the SHB, and a few of the guys have been arrested. There's all kinds of stuff being 'liberated' and....."

"That's OK." Jack interjected. He turned to his wife. "Carter, you've worked out how you can use them to blow the electricity supplies to the building, yes?"

"Yes." she replied immediately, smiling inwardly at his continuing habit of calling her by her old name. "I've made some couplings to connect them in series. That should overload the circuits and damage the generator beyond immediate repair. But getting into the generator room undetected may be problematic."

"Maybe." he mused. "Grogan, you and Carter will be the break-in team. I'll be covering you from that old stone tower opposite the SHB building with the M-82. I can see most of the grounds from there, and also the corridor and rooms where Hailey will be working. I'll guide you in over the radios. When I give a signal, Carter – you cut the power with your doohickey. As soon as it goes down, you get the hell out of there, don't wait for anything or anyone. Hailey and the other staff will probably be evacuated from the building. If it looks like she can't get away from them easily, I'll create a diversion. If I think you can assist, I'll instruct you what to do. We RV back here and proceed to evacuate as we planned."

"Is the weapon working properly now, Jack?" asked Grogan. "It *was* buried for the last few months."

"Pretty well. he replied. "Packing it in grease like you suggested seems to have saved it from sea water damage. You get to clean it next time, too!" Jack wouldn't forget the hours he'd spent transferring the viscous oily fluid from the gun to himself and his surroundings.

Without being told to, the three of them proceeded to pack anything they would be taking with them and destroy the rest in the hearth fire, just like before. It didn't take long, and as midnight passed they set out on their mission along dark, deserted streets. Near the SHB building Jack left them and found his way to the old building with the stone tower that would be his vantage point. He easily forced a small window at the back and climbed in awkwardly, and ascended the narrow stairs winding up the tower.

Settling into place in one of the openings at the tower top, he assembled the rifle with care in semi-darkness, the only light source being the distant glare of the single searchlight that illuminated the front of the SHB building.

He adjusted the earpiece of his radio – one of the many items given to them unofficially by the crew of the Prometheus when they had left them on the planet. "Comms check." was all he said. He was fairly certain that the frequencies they were using were well outside those normally used by the Andans, but he was cautious nonetheless. He was relieved to hear the single word 'Check' coming back from both Grogan and Sam. He settled down to watch the movements in the grounds and in the well-lit interior of the building through the sniper scope, and to calm his nerves.

It struck him that this was possibly his first test of life-threatening military ops with the woman he had cared about for so long, but who now meant more than ever. In idle musings in times gone by, he hadn't thought that it would change his outlook if he and Sam were actually married or just together. How wrong he had been! Just being willing to die for someone was no longer enough. He was aware too that Hailey and Grogan were getting under his skin in ways he would never have imagined.

Pushing these thoughts to the back of his mind with some effort, he prepared himself to direct them on an operation that, if it went wrong, would take away everyone he wanted to be in his life.

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