Chapter 7 – Picking Up the Pace

Elapsed time on board (ETOB): LD Plus 16. Elapsed time at origin (ETAO): LD Plus 17 days 1 hour

She had done this 'concealment' thing for so many years on SG-1, so why was it proving so difficult now? The inner Sam was in turmoil over Jack's reply, which she had viewed over and over again yesterday evening. Joy and despair intermingled: holding her nerve in public yet sure she could lose it any moment.

"The procedure to reel in the Bio-pod back to the Prometheus has gone a lot more smoothly than the effort it took to run the cable out to the full forty kilometres distance." Sam was explaining to the TV cameras. "The rate of spin was gradually decreased to just enough to maintain light tension in the carbon fibre cable connecting them, so it could be wound back into the mother ship without snatching or twisting."

Once more, computer graphics cut in to demonstrate her point, and she waited for a few moments to let viewers take in the manoeuvre. She'd always hated commentators and producers who felt that they had to fill every second of transmission time with verbiage, and had caught herself starting to do just that during her first week on the job. Bregman had been a constant goad in her ear-piece but she now had enough experience and presence of mind to be able to mentally blank him out when she felt like it. The fact that he didn't make criticisms at post-broadcast meetings told her that he must at least not dislike the way the show was going. Of course, the global audience had declined after the first few days, with only the scientifically-minded and genuinely curious hanging in after the thrill-seekers and couch potatoes had deserted back to 'reality' shows and soap operas. Even the paparazzi trying to shadow Sam had been pulled onto other targets more likely to titillate the press. But at least the viewing figures and syndication revenues were still ahead of Bregman's projections.

'You know I love you too, Sam.' Jack's recorded voice kept running through her mind, forcing her to repeatedly snap her attention back to the job in hand.

"The two craft are now mated again and the artificial gravity generator has been switched back on." she continued. "The crew seem to have decided that they'd like to stay at one-sixth g – remember that's how heavy you feel on the surface of the Moon – rather going into the next wormhole jump at full Earth gravity, and so the generator is not running at full capacity. I remember when we built it that we wanted to run at one-half g as standard on voyages as it consumes so much less power, but we got vetoed. Too many brass hats wanted to feel comfortable, I guess."

"Nice." was Emmett Bregman's only comment to her.

"Most things are working well on board." said Sam. "The ice nose cones seem to be standing up very well to the occasional impact with gas or dust molecules that they've been ploughing through at forty percent of the speed of light. The ice absorbs these high-energy particles and melts along the impact path as they slow up on penetration, but the water soon re-freezes behind trails in the intense cold of inter-galactic space, which is only a degree or two above absolute zero of minus two-seventy-three degrees Celsius. They've taken a long time to inspect for scarring, because when they come out of the next wormhole, the impact damage risk increases along with the higher speed that they'll be travelling at. Any signs that this last stage was problematic would mean restricting themselves to the current speed, or at worst abandoning the mission altogether. In the unlikely event, as they say on your favourite airlines, that something the size of a small rock should hit the nose cones at these speeds, then severe damage or even total destruction of the ship would result. If that happened, all we would see would be a faint gamma ray emission in an extremely powerful telescope, so caution is most definitely the watchword here."

And while the next raft of TV advertisements played, Sam sipped her coffee and inwardly heard 'his' words for the thousandth time. 'But I don't see how this can work, Sam. To be honest, you won't wait twenty years for me if it comes to that. Hell, you couldn't wait twenty weeks three years ago, so let's not kid ourselves about that.'

That was the phrase that had hurt, because it was true. Until Jack had come out and said it, Sam had somehow felt that turning to Pete had been good for her and would somehow be all right with him, leaving her options for the future. She had been given for the first time a real insight into the distress that she had caused him, and it was understandable that he might reject her this time round. And yet...... And yet he had just told her that he loved her too.

"Sam, there's a schedule change coming up." Bregman's voice interrupted her reverie. "We got a surprise visitor to the studio and I want you to interview him about his contribution to this project for the next fifteen or so."

"Who is it?" she asked, snapping back to the present.

"Says he's a close friend of yours. Dr. Rodney McKay. On air in three – two – one."

Perceptive viewers watching the live transmission could have sworn that the program restarted with an un-feminine expletive, but this mysterious half- sound was edited out of the tapes re-broadcast later.

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"Time to stop the air circulation from the Bio-pod and disconnect all umbilicals." said Jocelyn Stevens in her usual clipped tones. Back at the astrophysics data-logging station in the rear of the flight deck, Sonja Meyer sighed and smiled at Mohammad Sesele beside her.

"So, back to stale air on board Prometheus." she said to him. "It was such a pleasure breathing the air coming from the growing decks for a couple of hours anyway. These recirculation filters are fine, but the air is not so fresh like when the plants change it."

Mohammad smiled. "It was fresh, yes. But the odour of wet vegetation is perhaps more familiar to you than to me. I found it rather unpleasant for the first hour. After that, I suppose I was getting used to it a little. I must confess that I try to avoid staying on the growing decks for any long periods when I visit the Bio-pod. It makes my skin itch."

Sonja smiled back. "Ya, and I have to admit that Jack and Chen spend so much time there that perhaps they have begun to pick up the plant odour permanently on their clothes and hair. To me it's not unpleasant, but I could see you keeping your distance from them."

"I hope that I have not offended them." said Mohammad quietly. "It is impolite....."

"No!" replied Sonja, laughing. "Jack does not take offence so easily. Otherwise he would not put up with the jibes that the captain makes towards him. He is 'thick-skinned', ya? And Celia – I think she has Jack as a role- model, don't you? She nearly always volunteers to help with the tasks he is assigned outside official duties."

"Yes, it would seem so." he replied. "It is strange, too. Celia is attracted to him despite their age difference. If it were Vittorio, I would be concerned for her, but I believe that O'Neill is to be trusted."

"Ya, I agree." said Sonja. "I do not mind him making precautions about our activities for safety. You can see the sense in them. I think that Jos doesn't like the fact that he is a natural leader, even though he doesn't question her authority."

"All umbilicals disconnected and stowed." announced Vittorio from the co- pilot's seat. "Bio-pod retaining arms locked and secure. Ready for the next wormhole entry."

"Good." announced Stevens. "Let's go for it." She clicked on the switch to the sub-space communicator. "Sam, you there?"

"Ready and waiting." came Carter's faint voice through the speaker a few seconds later. "Someone here with me wishes you good luck also. It's Dr. Rodney McKay."

"Hi boys and girls!" the Doctor's effusive voice broke in. "Look after my hyperspace accelerator, now. I designed it to be operated by real scientists, you know, so don't let O'Neill get anywhere near it!"

"Copy that." replied Stevens. "Starting entry procedures now."

"Look after them, Jack. And yourself." were Sam's last words before the link was cut.

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Sam was staring at McKay across her studio presenter's desk with no small degree of hostility to her expression. Oblivious to this, he was trying to figure out whether the camera pointed at him was the one currently broadcasting, and to make sure he wasn't caught unawares, he wore a synthetic smile that seemed to Sam to be some kind of rictus.

"Start grilling him now, Sam." was Bregman's instruction through her ear- piece. "And don't pull any punches when you're questioning the little creep."

She took a deep breath. "So, Dr. McKay, your hyperspace acceleration device is really being put to the test now. This should boost them from forty percent of the speed of light to sixty five percent, right?"

"That's right, Samantha. You can call me Rodney, you know, seeing that we used to be such close colleagues in the SGC."

"No we weren't, Dr. McKay. As I recall you were an occasional visitor called in when we needed extra resources." Sam retorted.

"Oh! I understand, Samantha. Feeling peer pressure, are we?"

"So, Dr. McKay, would you care to explain to the public how the accelerator works?"

"Why of course, my dear. I'll keep it simple so that even you can keep up." He turned his fixed smile back towards the camera. "I predicted that the strength of the force field protecting a ship traversing a wormhole would give it the same exit velocity as the entry speed provided that the force remained constant during the transit. However, if the force field decreased while the ship was in hyperspace, then to balance the energy equation in normal space-time, the speed, or 'kinetic energy' would increase. Conversely, increasing the field strength while inside the wormhole would decrease the speed. Simple in concept, and simple to carry out as soon as I had perfected a control device. Did you have any trouble following that?"

"None at all, thank you, Doctor. Tell me, did you credit the Japanese scientist Dr. Umo Makeshi for his pioneering work in this field when you published your paper and applied for patents? I understand that he's currently pursuing a lawsuit against you for infringement of intellectual property rights."

"What? That charlatan? I grant that he may have been stumbling towards the first inklings of my theory, but I was the one to recognise its full implications and develop a practical control device. He has no chance of succeeding in court, by the way."

"And the control device – you based that on a Goa'uld design that an SG team captured during a raid on one of their Death Glider storage areas, right?"

"I wouldn't say 'based', Sa...... Dr. Carter. It was more of an inspiration that lead me down the right path to success. Like all the great inventors, I observe things closely in order to adapt, refine and improve."

"And how often was the control device field-tested before being installed on Prometheus, Doctor?"

"Well now, there's the thing. We felt sufficiently confident that the engineering aspects were sound and the usual tests protocols were not strictly necessary. Also there were no other test vessels available."

"So it's been used once before today when they made their first jump, and now they're using it for the second time as we speak, right?"

"In a manner of speaking, yes. But we are fully confident of the performance characteristics. I guarantee it."

"In a manner of speaking, you've been lucky so far and we're all praying that things stay that way, isn't that right, Doctor? How will you make good on your guarantee?"

"That's too negative a stance, Dr. Carter. Why are you being so hostile? Could it perhaps be related to the fact that your former Commanding Officer is on board and you are overly protective of him?"

"I am concerned for all of them, Doctor McKay. Especially as their lives would seem to be dependant on an ego-maniac plagiarist such as yourself." Sam looked up at the camera and smiled. "Let's take a break now for a word from our sponsor. After that, we should be hearing the next transmission from Prometheus after they've exited the wormhole at sixty five percent of the speed of light. God willing."

As the red lights in the studio went out, Sam rose from her seat at the same time as McKay got up. He glared at her and uttered a single word as he stormed out.

"Bitch!"

"Parasite!" she called back. He hesitated in his walk and then continued his theatrical exit.

Emmett Bregman was looking forward to tomorrow's TV ratings measurements like never before.

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"Control. Prometheus reporting." Stevens' voice was faint through the sub- space transmitter. "We may have a situation developing."

"Specify, please Jos." said Sam. "Are you in danger?"

"I don't think so." replied the distant voice. "First measurements of red- shift from known observable galaxies indicate that we are travelling at nearly seventy percent of c instead of sixty five. Wormhole exit point is approximately correct but direction is off by about five degrees. We will be OK provided that we limit transit time through normal space to just seven days before the next wormhole, otherwise we run the risk of getting too near to slightly denser interstellar gas clouds, which the ice shields won't withstand."

"Copy that, Jos." Sam responded. "How long before a 'go – no-go' decision?"

"We're going ahead." replied Stevens. "There's nothing we can't control and we'll just have to be a little more careful."

"Does your Safety Officer concur?" asked Sam, her heart-rate increasing as the question was uttered.

"That's irrelevant. He must defer to my decision. Prometheus out."

Meanwhile, the onboard naquadria reactor was running two degrees Celsius hotter than before.

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