Hostage Situation

Part Two

The streets around the building had been cordoned off, and the media was pretty heavy at the blocks.

"Everyone loves a good story," the Colonel said, cynically, as a few enterprising reporters attempted to take photos of them inside the car.

"You have to admit, sir, it makes for news," Sam observed, somewhat relieved he'd come out of the ominous mood that had gripped him since they'd discovered that Sara was one of the people in the building. "A decorated former Special Ops soldier holds a floor of office workers hostage." She didn't add, 'And asks for one of his former colleagues, whose ex-wife is among the hostages he's holding.' The look the Colonel gave her indicated he knew the direction her thoughts had taken.

"Have I mentioned how much I hate the news, Carter?" He asked lightly. "So depressing. They never print anything uplifting in there."

The tone was conversational, a relief from his introspective silence. Sam smiled faintly, recalling various discussions on various worlds. "What would you have them print, then, sir?"

"I dunno. Something that makes you laugh."

"Mad Magazine jokes?"

She got a severe look for the nudge about his cartoon reading, but all he said was, "It'd be a start."

The car stopped, and Sam glanced behind them, automatically checking that Teal'c and Daniel were behind them. The Colonel smirked as she caught him doing the same thing.

"Nervous, Carter?"

He knew her far too well. They all knew each other too well, Sam acknowledged wryly as she got out of the police vehicle.

For instance, the tension in the Colonel's shoulders meant he was disturbed by something; probably the thought of Sara in the hands of one of his former colleagues. Daniel's owlish blinking was a sure sign that he'd been surprised, possibly by the crowds of people around them. Teal'c's swift, calculating survey of the area showed him ill at ease with the attention upon them and wary of an unexpected enemy that might present itself from among the multitude.

All her team-mates were slightly unnerved by the people staring, and Sam was right there alongside them. They were garnering a fair share of attention from the personnel around, clearly the odd ones out among the many police uniforms running about the building.

"Sam!" The voice came out of the crowd, and she turned with just enough time to glimpse the face of the man approaching her before she was greeted with a hug and a possessive kiss on the mouth. "I wasn't sure if you'd be coming or not," Detective Pete Shanahan told her, his arm still around her shoulders as he turned towards the command centre, his voice lowered so only she could hear.

"Why wouldn't I?" She asked, forcing herself not to go rigid beneath his arm.

"It's a hostage situation, Sam," he said, surprised at her question.

Gently, trying not to be too obvious about it, Sam increased her pace to catch up with her team. "I thought the guy asked for the Colonel and his team," she said, continuing to talk, even as she surreptitiously slid out from under his arm. The stares of the people around them had intensified, drawn by their obvious intimacy. Over by the roadblock, an older man was saying something to his companion with a smirk, and the second man's eyes met hers for a split second before he looked away. She felt the flush start on her neck and ears and cursed her pale complexion.

Pete hadn't done it deliberately, she reminded herself briskly. He was just...glad to see her. She hadn't had much time for him lately, what with a really hectic work schedule. Oh, they'd started off calling each other every couple of days, which, in the last week, had only been once. And they'd talked a bit about what they'd do when they did catch up, but the actual getting together never happened.

In fact, their last date had been...nearly a month ago.

Pete hop-stepped to catch up with her, not apparently noticing her evasion, but cluey enough to sense that maybe this was not the best time to do reunions. "He did," he said, answering her previous question as they approached the point where the rest of SG-1 was waiting for Sam. The guys nodded at Pete.

"Shanahan."

"Pete."

"Detective Shanahan."

"Colonel, Dr. Jackson, Teal'c."

Sam felt a bubble of laughter rise up in her chest. If it weren't for the gravity of the situation, the rather polite meeting of the four men would have been comedic. But as another man came towards them with Detective Wallace at his heels, the urge to laugh died.

Tall, about Sam's height, and bulky, the newcomer glanced over SG-1 with the cool, judging eye of someone who would not laugh in a grave situation. "Detective?" He addressed Pete. "You know Colonel O'Neill and his team?"

"Uh, yes, sir. Major Carter and I have a...personal acquaintance."

Sam hid her wince, but her team-mates weren't quite as tactful. Daniel's expression went decidedly, 'Oh boy!' Teal'c raised an eyebrow. The Colonel raised both.

Being described in a way that effectively labelled her as Pete's girlfriend was not exactly the kind of recommendation Sam wanted in the present situation. Among these men, the label of 'girlfriend' probably meant a woman who was a lot of things Sam was not.

The newcomer barely glanced at Sam, then turned to the Colonel, "Colonel O'Neill..."

"You have me at a disadvantage," the Colonel interrupted, dryly. "I know Detective Shanahan, and I met Detective Wallace at the heliport, but you haven't introduced yourself yet."

"Uh, Jack..."

"We're just observing the niceties, Daniel," the Colonel said, conversationally. But his eyes were hard on the man who looked up at him with a beady-eyed gaze. "I prefer working with people whose names I know. Makes it seem nicer than yelling 'Hey you' all the time."

Daniel caught Sam's gaze and flicked his eyes upwards in exasperation. It seemed Colonel O'Neill had decided to take exception to this man, for whatever reasons of his own. She tendered him a twitch of the lips before she looked back at the staring competition happening between the two men.

Unstoppable force meets immoveable object. On SG-1, the Colonel and Daniel usually filled those roles, although it really applied to any of them when they got on their hobby horse.

"Chief Vic Geraldton, Denver Police Department," the man said at last.

"Pleased to meet you," the Colonel declared. "You already know me, or at least of me. This is my team: Major Sam Carter, United States Air Force; Dr. Daniel Jackson, PhD; and Murray Tilk. I don't leave home without 'em." He smiled pleasantly, but Sam could sense the teeth lurking beneath the surface of the smile. Colonel O'Neill was mildly riled and if the Chief was sensible, he'd see it was unwise to antagonise the Colonel further.

Cogs turned over in Chief Geraldton's mind, plain enough to see. The Colonel's inclusion of herself and Daniel as members of his team meant that the Chief could ignore them, but at his own peril. Colonel O'Neill had effectively drawn a line in the sand, saying 'love me, love my team.'

The Chief didn't seem inclined to protest just yet, although his expression was somewhat sour. "Pleased to meet you." There was definitely ice there. "There've been some new developments in the situation since Detective Wallace went in to pick you up..."

"Yeah, we have some new developments for you, too."

The Chief seemed a little more interested at that. "Such as?"

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours." The Colonel's expression was utterly straight, but there was more than one choke in the background. Luckily, his team was accustomed to the Colonel's sense of humour, and Sam merely quirked a brief smile at the levity.

However, Chief Geraldton appeared unimpressed by the Colonel's wit, and scowled a little. "Wait until we're in the command building, Colonel."

He started off without waiting for SG-1. After a quick look around at his team-mates, the Colonel followed.

They'd taken only a couple of steps towards the centre, when someone plucked at her sleeve. Pete smiled at her, and she summoned up a smile for him in return.

"I haven't seen you in so long, Sam," he murmured. Sam felt a little ashamed of her earlier shake-off. He didn't know how sensitive she was about being patronised, although she'd hoped he might have picked it up in the months since they'd started dating. And it was good to see him again.

"It's been a busy month," she told him, thinking of all the developments at the SGC since Daniel's realisation that Atlantis was accessible - just outside Earth's galaxy cluster. Denied the opportunity to go to Atlantis with Dr. Weir's team, Sam had been heading up workgroups, setting up the technology for the new base and trying to find the patience to work with McKay and not hit him over the head with a naquadah reactor every time he made some smarmy comment about how he was going and she wasn't. Most nights she hadn't even gotten home, let alone had time for her boyfriend.

Downtime was something other people had, and even when she'd had free time, she simply hadn't felt like interacting with anyone - even Pete.

"So you kept telling me." Was there an edge to his voice? Maybe she was just hearing things.

She glanced at him. He looked slightly peeved off. "So much stuff has been happening," she began by way of explanation.

"Stuff?"

Sam couldn't tell him everything. The clearance he'd been granted had allowed her to tell him about the existence of the Stargate and the Goa'uld, but without actually working on the project, he wasn't authorised to know about every single thing that went on beneath the mountain.

And the expedition to Atlantis was very much top-classification material.

"Classified stuff," she said.

His expression closed up. "It's always classified stuff with you." Since their first argument that morning, the matter of her work and its secrecy had come up more than once. Pete hated being left out of her work, but there was nothing Sam could do about it. Without the appropriate clearance, he wasn't permitted to be told about anything current. She could make references in general, but nothing specific.

"My work is classified, Pete." She kept her voice low, but as the Colonel glanced back at her, arching a brow, she met his gaze firmly. I can handle this, sir!

The Colonel lifted a shoulder in a half-shrug, and turned away.

"Maybe you should find a new job, then," Pete said, shortly.

Sam bit back the retort that she liked this one.

This was a recent angle that had come up. Pete had suggested she leave the SGC; find another job that didn't require such rigorous hours and such complete secrecy. Sam had laughed the first suggestion off, thinking it a joke. She'd ended up apologising profusely when he went into what she tried not to think of as a sulk.

She'd thought keeping up a relationship would be easier than this.

Concentrate, Sam.

The small group reached the community centre across the road from the cordoned-off building, and their presence, flanked by the Police Chief, and two Detectives gained them easy entry into the building.

As SG-1 walked into the room, causing heads to turn and conversations to halt, Sam caught the slightly startled eye of a man in a black vest. He looked them over with cold grey eyes that narrowed a little as they approached. Sam glanced over herself and her team-mates and only then realised that they'd subconsciously fallen into 'vanguard' position. The Colonel was point, Teal'c was rearguard, and she and Daniel walked flank.

It was instinct more than conscious choice, years of practice contributing to the way she and Daniel both faced slightly outwards from the 'centre' of the formation. However, this man wasn't to know that. The fleeting expression of astonishment was as satisfying as any adrenaline rush.

Her mouth quirked a little and, to stifle her amusement, Sam looked around at the people working on this situation and the technologies they'd brought with them. Even as someone who was more or less a bystander, it would be interesting to observe the way the Police and SWAT forces dealt with a hostage situation.

The people who usually used this centre would hardly have recognised the room. Oh, the posters had been left in place, talking about aged care and warning against domestic violence, but the rest of the hall was filled with uniformed men and women, and nearly as much equipment as Sam's lab. The items they had were much less interesting than her own stuff, though.

And there were people everywhere. Most wore the uniform of the Denver Police Department, but another distinct group stood over in the centre of the room, by a large table covered with papers and weapons.

They were geared up in black, with their affiliation blazoned in white on their back. And even in the busy and rather crowded hall, the men and women in the blue uniforms were keeping a moderately wide berth around them.

Sam was reminded of the tagline of a movie: 'Even cops call 911.'

"Interesting," she heard Daniel mutter.

"Indeed." Teal'c responded from behind them.

"Commander."

The man turned in his chair to regard them with narrowed eyes. "Chief."

The Colonel turned a little in her direction and quirked a sardonic eyebrow. No love lost there.

Police Chief Geraldton waved a hand at SG-1. "Commander Andrews, this is Colonel O'Neill and his team."

Heads turned, faces peered out from behind the fine lines of building blueprints and notepads of scribble paper.

Sam saw the way the gazes ran over each member of SG-1, and kept her expression carefully neutral as she saw more than one face look over her, insultingly slow, before glancing back at the guys. The question didn't need to be spoken, but it was being asked anyway. I wonder which one of them she's screwing...

Over sixteen years in the Air Force had taught her that men were going to think what they liked of her. The only chance she would be given to prove herself was in action. And even then, she could only change the minds of those who were willing to have their minds changed.

These men were closed as tight as the iris over the wormhole during an unscheduled off-world activation.

Beside her, Pete was bridling at the open scrutiny of her. Sam resisted the urge to reach out and reassure him that it was okay. He would have to deal with the gazes of other men on her in this setting. It wasn't something that he could make go away.

If her team noticed the looks, they didn't say anything to Sam, or indicate anything with their expressions. In fact, it seemed the Colonel was being very affable - for him - as he introduced them, "Major Sam Carter, Dr. Daniel Jackson, Murray Tilk."

Commander Andrews' upper lip hid behind a bushy moustache, and his eyes were the hardened ones of a man who'd seen enough trouble to last him two lifetimes. "Colonel. We've heard a lot about you."

"It's always good to be noticed," the Colonel said, presenting the easy-going, bantering personality behind which he hid the razor-sharp military commander. "So, what are these new developments Chief Geraldton was telling us about?"

His tone of voice might have been affable, but the response to the question was not. The men shifted a little in their places, looking rather more like kids caught in a prank than professionals in a debriefing.

It was a few seconds before Commander Andrews spoke, and his hesitation became clear after only a few sentences. "We had the opportunity to take back the floor without having to accede to Stambaugh's demands," he said, brusquely. "An hour ago, armed with the data we had from the first team's attempt, the risk was judged acceptable to go in and take Stambaugh out..."

Police Chief Geraldton was not pleased, "The risk was judged acceptable to your division, Commander. Not to mine."

The clear delineation between divisions was disconcerting - SWAT and the Police were usually in moderate harmony with each other - but not, apparently, in this precinct. Sam saw Daniel's slight frown at the wording before he asked, "What happened?"

Both Police Chief and SWAT commander looked at Daniel, not a little surprised that someone - a civilian someone - had interrupted them. Then they looked to Colonel, who merely arched a brow, silently indicating that they should answer the question.

"They lost three more men." The chief jerked a thumb at the commander.

For some reason, Sam was reminded of her nephew and niece, and the recriminations and finger-pointing that usually followed an upset. It was at once a surprisingly absurd image, and yet quite frighteningly accurate. There was definitely no love lost here.

"What do you mean by 'lost'?" Daniel asked, sharply.

"They're still alive." That came from one of the SWAT guys, but Colonel O'Neill looked at Commander Andrews in disbelief.

"You gave him more hostages?"

"Believe it or not, they didn't just stroll in there and hand themselves over," Commander Andrews snapped, but his cheeks reddened at the implied rebuff.

"The guy had new stuff set up," said a new voice, quiet and cutting in the midst of the angry men.

Sam focused on the speaker, a young man standing by the table with his finger on one of the notepads. A discarded pen angled away from his fingertips. Beneath his hand, scribbled diagrams ran spiderlike across the paper, and the notations were crisp, informative. She'd have to have a look at the diagrams later. Right now she had other things to worry about.

"New stuff such as what?" She wasn't qualified to enter into headbutting competitions with the men; for one, she lacked the testosterone levels. She was qualified to ask about technology and infiltration techniques.

The guy who'd spoken was quite young, maybe in his mid-twenties, slim and lean with intent eyes. He was geared up in a flak jacket, but unlike the others, he was openly armed. He spoke now, quiet with the assurance that if people wanted to hear, they'd listen to him. "A force field."

Sam felt the start of a tingling cold begin at her nape and slide down her spine like dry ice.

There were more than a couple of coughs from people around the room – not just the SWATs, but also the listening cops. There were no laughs from SG-1, though. Instead, the Colonel raised his eyebrows and tilted his head. "A force field?"

"That's what I'd call it."

"Can you describe it?" Sam asked.

The young man looked at her, then at his CO, then, when the commander nodded at him, looked back. The slight was unconscious, but Sam felt its sting, even as Commander Andrews gave his approval. "It wasn't visible until Cap hit it. One minute he was moving, the next he'd hit something and fell back."

"Something?" That was Daniel's query.

"I don't know what it was," he said, simply. "It went blue – electric blue – and made a crackling noise. It looked like ice hanging in the air where he'd run into it. But when Cap fell back, it vanished."

The Colonel frowned. "What happened then?"

"Mark and Jim went out to help Cap up, but as they did, I heard something rolling out at them, and then there was this flash of light..."

"Concussion grenade," Colonel O'Neill muttered. He glanced at Sam, the kind of look that said, 'We're going to have to talk about this in private.' But he turned back to the young officer. "Anything else?"

"Not that I saw." There was an avidly intent expression on his face as he asked her, "Do you know what it was?"

Sam glanced at the Colonel, who shrugged. Her answer was truthful, but deliberately uninformative. "Yes."

They waited for her further clarification. None came. As the silence grew, the SWAT commander's expression grew incensed. Sam resisted the urge to tell more; they didn't have the classification and she wasn't authorised to tell them.

"My team and I will need to discuss this," the Colonel said into the quiet. "Got a room we can use?"

"What the hell is this all about, O'Neill?" Commander Andrews was in no mood to be obstructed.

"This is about my team and I discussing this matter," the Colonel replied coolly, before he pointed at one of the offices lining the far wall of the centre. "We'll take that one."

Less than a minute later, SG-1 was congregated in the glass-windowed office.

"I feel like one of my fish," Daniel muttered as he sat down on the desk.

"Just don't sit there and look like one," the Colonel retorted. "Now, was it just me, or did this sound like a Goa'uld force field to anyone else?"

"It appears to be, O'Neill."

"Carter?"

"From the description... Yes." And the implications of that were huge.

The Colonel pointed a long finger at Daniel. "Get hold of Paul Davis. Now."

"Jack..."

"Don't argue with me, Daniel! Tell him we'll need authorisation to take over this operation. Get him to take it as high as he can and run it down through the appropriate channels. I hate the bureaucracy, but they won't accept it any other way."

Daniel frowned. "Jack, are you sure you want to do this? I mean, the guys out there aren't looking happy..."

"We're not in this to make friends," the Colonel said, firmly. "You want to be a bleeding heart, go right ahead. Just be a bleeding heart after you call Davis and let him know we have Goa'uld technology in the hands of a former Black Ops Colonel, okay?"

The dark-haired man rolled his eyes, but pulled out his cell phone and began dialling. "Carter..."

"As far as I know, nothing's been reported missing, but..." There was no way of telling. After eight years, the inventories of technology acquired through the Stargate were huge, and impossible to track completely.

"Get hold of Coombs and ask. Get hold of Markov, too, and see if she knows anything. The breach isn't necessarily ours."

She nodded and pulled out her cell phone as the Colonel turned and began telling Teal'c to get hold of the layout of the building, and all the operation detail on this situation. SG-1 would need to be fully informed and up-to-date on the situation.

There was a peremptory knock on the door as the SWAT commander demanded entry into the room. The Colonel gave him an exasperated glance, and then signalled him to enter.

"O'Neill, what the hell is going on?" Behind him, in the larger room, the buzz and chatter had died down, the better to hear the conversation going on in the office.

Sam paused in the middle of a transfer through to the science department at the Area 51, as Daniel flipped his phone shut and glanced over at Colonel O'Neill. "Paul says we have a go. He'll have the authorisation of the Pentagon in less than half an hour."

The Colonel nodded once, then addressed the man who stood before him, trying to use his considerable physical bulk to intimidate the leaner man. "Commander, this operation is about to become the province of the United States Air Force."

And the stunned silence that fell across the outer room was as eloquent as Commander Andrews' angry retort.

"The hell you say!"

End Part Two