As normal own nothing but this story.
There was a problem downloading the last chapter, it didn't appear on the SG1 section, :o( strange????
============
Jonas awoke feeling uneasy and stiff. He massaged his shoulder and stretched the tendons in his injured leg, trying to get some feeling back. He sat up from the bed, running his fingers through his hair and touching the metal of the chain around his neck. He pulled it from under his tunic and held the ring that was threaded on the links, taking some comfort from its texture. He had not worn the band since he'd been back, since Sam had returned it, since he'd given it to Cassie.
He got up and limped across to the sink, splashing the sleep from his face with cold water. He checked the time, it was still early, he'd been asleep for less than an hour.
He looked down at the unwritten report on the desk and the black and white stills from the massacre wondering if Dr Kieran's dream, for change, was even now, a long way off.
There was a knock at the door, shattering his thoughts like a fine wine glass on the hard wood floor of reality; he opened it to find the First Minister waiting for him.
She gave him a small, tired, smile as she looked into his equally exhausted face, "Jonas, were you resting?"
He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips and shook his head, "no, Ma'am."
"Good, I'd like to run through the incident at the refugee camp with you."
Jonas looked back into the room and started to stutter a response but Dreylock held up her hand, "just verbal for now, you can write your report up later," she soothed, "would you walk with me?"
He nodded and shadowed her into the corridor, "have you eaten?" She asked.
Food, when had he last eaten? His faced creased, the First Minister smiled, "very well, would you join me for supper, Jonas? I've made some humfla, it was my grandmother's recipe."
She was rewarded with a smile, "I would be honoured, Ma'am," he said, dutifully.
Dreylock turned to the City Guard who was two steps behind them, "that will be all for now, Sergeant, thank you."
The guard scowled, "I have my orders Ma'am."
"Yes, and I have my own Parliamentary Guards who will take very good care of us, now please."
The Sergeant went to argue but the Minster's face was firm, he nodded with a quick salute and skulked off.
Jonas held back a triumphant grin, knowing he would probably end up paying for this later but still he felt a wave of freedom cause through his veins.
Dreylock stole a glance at him and buried her anxiety, calling to the leader inside her to help her through the next few, precious, hours. She knew Jonas was perceptive, uncannily so, and she had put a lot of trust and responsibility on his young shoulders but boys in Kelowna had a habit of maturing early or dying young and she knew that Jonas would do his duty, whatever she asked.
As they walked, the rhythm of their footsteps surrounded their journey, "were there any survivors?" She asked with hope.
Jonas shook his head; Dreylock stopped and touched his arm, "not even the children?"
He looked into her face, which was pleated with the gentle lines of responsibility and fought with her eyes, "there were no survivors, Ma'am," he added, quietly.
She touched her forehead, trying to hide the emotion racing through her, "the guards, where were the camp guards?"
"The official report states that the mob was just too big, they lost control."
"Did you question them?"
He nodded and looked away.
"Did you believe them?" She enquired.
He turned back, watching the light display in the streams of sliver highlighting her auburn hair, "no," he whispered, so that the corridor would not pick up the echo.
She sighed, knowing it was the answer she'd expected and continued to walk towards her private rooms, "Why?" She posed, wondering what misplaced words had turned everyday people into murdering hordes.
It was Jonas's turn to sigh, "they believed the refugees were infected with Goa'uld lava."
The First Minister stopped outside her door, closing her eyes for a moment in silent reflection then she opened them and nodded to Jonas to follow her inside.
The smell of the thick root soup dashed across the room to Jonas and squeezed his taste buds dry. Dreylock motioned for him to sit at the small wooden table as she dished the potage into two rustic bowls, "I've given my staff the night off," she said apologetically, hoping he wouldn't sense the strain in her voice.
She handed him a bowl and he drank from it, as was the custom.
They sat talking politely for half hour about trivial things to pass the time but Jonas was all too aware that her mind was on other matters.
He placed his empty bowl on the table and held her eyes, for a moment, reading her face, "First Minister," he began but she got up abruptly, leaving most of her soup and turned her back on him.
"Jonas, I'm sorry," she said, quietly.
"Ma'am?"
"I'm sorry for asking you to return, for telling you that you would not be considered a traitor. I sincerely believed it to be true; that people would see what you did was for the good of Kelowna, for the planet. Especially when I saw what the Goa'uld were capable of, I knew the only way we stood a chance against them was to unite the planet."
Jonas stood up, her words sounded so final, "First Minister, I."
"Please, please let me finish," she said turning to meet him with a soft smile. "I thought everyone would see this great threat to our world and that we would all pull in one direction for the common good; but I was wrong. I am losing the struggle with the Andari and Tiranians over petty disputes and Ravel is in the wings waiting to pounce and rip this government to pieces."
She paused for a moment taking a gulp of water from the tall glass on the table. She looked at Jonas as if he was the only person left she could trust, "Jonas, Ravel is planning a coup."
The room seemed to grow still, "Do you know when?"
She raised her hand leaving the question unanswered; she didn't want to lie. "I have a spy in his camp, someone close to him whom he trusts. He managed to get a garbled message through to me but without any details and I need those details, Jonas, they're vital."
She let the words hang in the space between them, hoping she hadn't stumbled their sentiment and shown him her soul. "You want me to meet with your informant," Jonas stated, his eyes never leaving her face.
Dreylock let her head drop and fell against the table for support, "I've no one else to ask, there is no one else I trust more."
She looked up at him and he nodded, she took a deep breath, "I've arranged transport for you on a mobile canteen with two men from my personal protection unit. They know the streets, they've run many clandestine meetings for me, they're the best I have. You will all be disguised as City Guards and head towards the Southside of the city, to the docks. There are several of Ravel's units stationed there to stop looting and generally keep the peace. My informant will make himself known to you."
"How?"
She went over to a drawer and pulled a small box from within. Opening the box she placed a gold and onyx band on her middle finger and showed it to Jonas. "We still want to change our world for the better, Jonas, and try to keep within the boundaries of what's moral and right, only now we have to fight for those values."
She closed her eyes and bowed her head in shame, "Doctor Kieran was a good man, I knew the Naquadria had affected his mind but I was too scared to voice my concerns and jeopardised my position on the Council. I am sorry Jonas I should of done more."
Jonas looked away, "I've been there," he said plainly.
"Yes and now maybe I have a chance to redeem my actions as you have done," she looked at the timepiece on the wall, "we must hurry."
She pulled out a spare uniform and gave it to Jonas, "Please," she motioned to a small office.
Jonas nodded and entered the room.
She waited, watching the ornate clock, mesmerised by the ticking of the seconds and feeling her heart crash against her rib cage.
Jonas didn't take long to change and was soon stood before her, threatening in the dark garb of a City Guard. She furnished him with a side arm and cap and stepped back to view their deception, nodding approvingly.
"Jonas, I've one more thing to give you," she handed him a cylindrical container, "it's microfiche containing all the documentation of the investigation into your sister's murder. I know you requested it several times in the past."
He looked down at her outstretched hand and took the gift from her without looking up. Their hands touched and just for a moment he felt something stir deep within her, something she was fighting to restrain, something that was shrouded in a veil of control; he stepped back.
"Here, you'll need another glove," she ventured, taking one from the pocket in her tunic, "the one gives you away."
He nodded, "they're waiting for you outside the red zone," she continued opening the door for him, "good luck Jonas."
He was aware of something, a nagging voice tickling his senses, he turned back to Dreylock, "Ma'am."
She stopped him, "you must go, Jonas," she replied with the stern voice of a leader.
He hesitated before nodding and went out into the corridor closing the door behind him.
"Fate and fortune Jonas Quinn," Dreylock whispered, falling against the wood of the door knowing, now, she was truly alone.
==========
Until next time, on the streets of a city destroyed!!!
Take care,
:o)
There was a problem downloading the last chapter, it didn't appear on the SG1 section, :o( strange????
============
Jonas awoke feeling uneasy and stiff. He massaged his shoulder and stretched the tendons in his injured leg, trying to get some feeling back. He sat up from the bed, running his fingers through his hair and touching the metal of the chain around his neck. He pulled it from under his tunic and held the ring that was threaded on the links, taking some comfort from its texture. He had not worn the band since he'd been back, since Sam had returned it, since he'd given it to Cassie.
He got up and limped across to the sink, splashing the sleep from his face with cold water. He checked the time, it was still early, he'd been asleep for less than an hour.
He looked down at the unwritten report on the desk and the black and white stills from the massacre wondering if Dr Kieran's dream, for change, was even now, a long way off.
There was a knock at the door, shattering his thoughts like a fine wine glass on the hard wood floor of reality; he opened it to find the First Minister waiting for him.
She gave him a small, tired, smile as she looked into his equally exhausted face, "Jonas, were you resting?"
He rubbed his forehead with his fingertips and shook his head, "no, Ma'am."
"Good, I'd like to run through the incident at the refugee camp with you."
Jonas looked back into the room and started to stutter a response but Dreylock held up her hand, "just verbal for now, you can write your report up later," she soothed, "would you walk with me?"
He nodded and shadowed her into the corridor, "have you eaten?" She asked.
Food, when had he last eaten? His faced creased, the First Minister smiled, "very well, would you join me for supper, Jonas? I've made some humfla, it was my grandmother's recipe."
She was rewarded with a smile, "I would be honoured, Ma'am," he said, dutifully.
Dreylock turned to the City Guard who was two steps behind them, "that will be all for now, Sergeant, thank you."
The guard scowled, "I have my orders Ma'am."
"Yes, and I have my own Parliamentary Guards who will take very good care of us, now please."
The Sergeant went to argue but the Minster's face was firm, he nodded with a quick salute and skulked off.
Jonas held back a triumphant grin, knowing he would probably end up paying for this later but still he felt a wave of freedom cause through his veins.
Dreylock stole a glance at him and buried her anxiety, calling to the leader inside her to help her through the next few, precious, hours. She knew Jonas was perceptive, uncannily so, and she had put a lot of trust and responsibility on his young shoulders but boys in Kelowna had a habit of maturing early or dying young and she knew that Jonas would do his duty, whatever she asked.
As they walked, the rhythm of their footsteps surrounded their journey, "were there any survivors?" She asked with hope.
Jonas shook his head; Dreylock stopped and touched his arm, "not even the children?"
He looked into her face, which was pleated with the gentle lines of responsibility and fought with her eyes, "there were no survivors, Ma'am," he added, quietly.
She touched her forehead, trying to hide the emotion racing through her, "the guards, where were the camp guards?"
"The official report states that the mob was just too big, they lost control."
"Did you question them?"
He nodded and looked away.
"Did you believe them?" She enquired.
He turned back, watching the light display in the streams of sliver highlighting her auburn hair, "no," he whispered, so that the corridor would not pick up the echo.
She sighed, knowing it was the answer she'd expected and continued to walk towards her private rooms, "Why?" She posed, wondering what misplaced words had turned everyday people into murdering hordes.
It was Jonas's turn to sigh, "they believed the refugees were infected with Goa'uld lava."
The First Minister stopped outside her door, closing her eyes for a moment in silent reflection then she opened them and nodded to Jonas to follow her inside.
The smell of the thick root soup dashed across the room to Jonas and squeezed his taste buds dry. Dreylock motioned for him to sit at the small wooden table as she dished the potage into two rustic bowls, "I've given my staff the night off," she said apologetically, hoping he wouldn't sense the strain in her voice.
She handed him a bowl and he drank from it, as was the custom.
They sat talking politely for half hour about trivial things to pass the time but Jonas was all too aware that her mind was on other matters.
He placed his empty bowl on the table and held her eyes, for a moment, reading her face, "First Minister," he began but she got up abruptly, leaving most of her soup and turned her back on him.
"Jonas, I'm sorry," she said, quietly.
"Ma'am?"
"I'm sorry for asking you to return, for telling you that you would not be considered a traitor. I sincerely believed it to be true; that people would see what you did was for the good of Kelowna, for the planet. Especially when I saw what the Goa'uld were capable of, I knew the only way we stood a chance against them was to unite the planet."
Jonas stood up, her words sounded so final, "First Minister, I."
"Please, please let me finish," she said turning to meet him with a soft smile. "I thought everyone would see this great threat to our world and that we would all pull in one direction for the common good; but I was wrong. I am losing the struggle with the Andari and Tiranians over petty disputes and Ravel is in the wings waiting to pounce and rip this government to pieces."
She paused for a moment taking a gulp of water from the tall glass on the table. She looked at Jonas as if he was the only person left she could trust, "Jonas, Ravel is planning a coup."
The room seemed to grow still, "Do you know when?"
She raised her hand leaving the question unanswered; she didn't want to lie. "I have a spy in his camp, someone close to him whom he trusts. He managed to get a garbled message through to me but without any details and I need those details, Jonas, they're vital."
She let the words hang in the space between them, hoping she hadn't stumbled their sentiment and shown him her soul. "You want me to meet with your informant," Jonas stated, his eyes never leaving her face.
Dreylock let her head drop and fell against the table for support, "I've no one else to ask, there is no one else I trust more."
She looked up at him and he nodded, she took a deep breath, "I've arranged transport for you on a mobile canteen with two men from my personal protection unit. They know the streets, they've run many clandestine meetings for me, they're the best I have. You will all be disguised as City Guards and head towards the Southside of the city, to the docks. There are several of Ravel's units stationed there to stop looting and generally keep the peace. My informant will make himself known to you."
"How?"
She went over to a drawer and pulled a small box from within. Opening the box she placed a gold and onyx band on her middle finger and showed it to Jonas. "We still want to change our world for the better, Jonas, and try to keep within the boundaries of what's moral and right, only now we have to fight for those values."
She closed her eyes and bowed her head in shame, "Doctor Kieran was a good man, I knew the Naquadria had affected his mind but I was too scared to voice my concerns and jeopardised my position on the Council. I am sorry Jonas I should of done more."
Jonas looked away, "I've been there," he said plainly.
"Yes and now maybe I have a chance to redeem my actions as you have done," she looked at the timepiece on the wall, "we must hurry."
She pulled out a spare uniform and gave it to Jonas, "Please," she motioned to a small office.
Jonas nodded and entered the room.
She waited, watching the ornate clock, mesmerised by the ticking of the seconds and feeling her heart crash against her rib cage.
Jonas didn't take long to change and was soon stood before her, threatening in the dark garb of a City Guard. She furnished him with a side arm and cap and stepped back to view their deception, nodding approvingly.
"Jonas, I've one more thing to give you," she handed him a cylindrical container, "it's microfiche containing all the documentation of the investigation into your sister's murder. I know you requested it several times in the past."
He looked down at her outstretched hand and took the gift from her without looking up. Their hands touched and just for a moment he felt something stir deep within her, something she was fighting to restrain, something that was shrouded in a veil of control; he stepped back.
"Here, you'll need another glove," she ventured, taking one from the pocket in her tunic, "the one gives you away."
He nodded, "they're waiting for you outside the red zone," she continued opening the door for him, "good luck Jonas."
He was aware of something, a nagging voice tickling his senses, he turned back to Dreylock, "Ma'am."
She stopped him, "you must go, Jonas," she replied with the stern voice of a leader.
He hesitated before nodding and went out into the corridor closing the door behind him.
"Fate and fortune Jonas Quinn," Dreylock whispered, falling against the wood of the door knowing, now, she was truly alone.
==========
Until next time, on the streets of a city destroyed!!!
Take care,
:o)