Revised 10.15.04

CHAPTER 10:

Methos sat down, bemused, as Major Carter hurried out of the room, leaving him alone in front of the computer. Well, here he was, all alone in the middle of the mysterious SGC. Where to start, he thought, rubbing his hands together.

And more to the point, how much time did he have before his promised 'escort' arrived? Well, perhaps he had better make it look good, just in case. Within moments, he had the data flashing on the supercomputer's screen.

Although he was anxious to start exploring before anyone arrived to keep an eye on him, Methos couldn't help taking a quick look at the data.

As he expected, though, it simply mirrored the results he had looked at in his quarters. It seemed like weeks ago that he had last seen this data - before he'd moved into his new apartment, before he'd been sure of what was going on in the SGC. In fact, it had been less than a day. Nor had the results changed - something honking big was sitting out there.

Methos thought for a moment before settling down to rework the report so it showed nothing. Something reasonably sophisticated would be required – after all, Carter had detected the transposition of the data-tracks he had put into the OSCAR data.

A few random alterations to the source data, combined with a few changes to the analysis structure, should render the results suitably meaningless, though, he thought. He set the program to rerun, then stood up so he could take a look around.

Major Doctor Janet Fraiser MD was furious. She glared at her reflection in the elevator, and tapped the metal impatiently. After what Sam had told her about the Colonel's state of mind, she'd decided she couldn't afford to wait and go through the normal channels.

Clearing Colonel O'Neill to do a little make-work was one thing. But being in charge of the whole of Cheyenne Mountain and the considerable firepower it wielded was quite another.

The man was still a long way from recovered – either physically or mentally - from torture and psychological trauma. And from what Sam had said in their brief conversation, it seemed that the Colonel really had lost it this time.

As the elevators finally opened, Janet pushed her way out the doors, and stalked over to the guard desk.

"Locate Colonel O'Neill for me at once, please Airman," she demanded.

She ignored his 'yes, ma'am', and stood, tapping her foot impatiently as he made a couple of calls before timidly informing her that the Colonel was still over in Space Control.

She felt a moment of guilt as the hapless airman quailed beneath her gaze. She was in her stompy-wompy mode she realized. She should probably tone it down a bit. Then again, she thought, as she took in his six foot three companion. Maybe the intimidation effect was needed right now.

"Alright, Airman. So how do I get to Space Control?" she demanded. She had vague memories of the various buildings from her orientation session a few years back, but she couldn't really recall which building housed Space Control.

"No wait a moment," she decided, thinking it through. If she was going to relieve the Colonel of command, and haul him back down to the SGC, she needed to tell the next person in the chain of command. "Where will I find the second-in-command of the Mountain at the moment?"

"That would be Colonel Campbell, Ma'am," the young man replied. "He should be in the Operations Center. Building 1, right next to the tunnel door. Though you'll need clearance to get inside."

"Thank you, Airman," she replied. "I'll deal with that when I get there." She headed out the door.

He looked relieved to see her go.

Methos turned away from the state-of-the–art, multi-million dollar supercomputer, and surveyed the rest of the laboratory curiously.

Scattered on the bench he could see a range of devices, some based on conventional Earth technologies, some using Goa'uld crystals, others totally unknown to him. One of the devices - fortunately only a fragment - looked as if it was Asgard in origin. The evidence of alien infiltration was everywhere.

Typical bloody Goa'uld, he thought with disgust, stealing from anyone who came along.

Still, his mind countered. If they are Goa'uld, why risk leaving you here unattended? Was he so little threat - or were they so self-confident?

Major Carter's behavior had been odd, to say the least. He reflected on the bizarre tit-bits of information Major Carter had exchanged with the woman she had introduced as Dr Fraiser. Just what exactly was the power structure down here?

He'd observed the tension between O'Neill and Carter now several times. It wasn't all that surprising if Carter was a Goa'uld, while O'Neill was under their control, acting as their front man. But her exchange with Dr Fraiser about O'Neill's fitness for duty didn't quite fit. Unless of course, Dr Fraiser was also a Goa'uld. Was it a code, he wondered? Or was it genuine concern? Or was it just a typical Goa'uld power play?

He didn't know these people well enough to tell. If only one of them would slip up for a second, he thought. If he could just catch the flash of a Goa'uld's eyes, or hear the harmonics of their true voice in the distance - he had to be sure before he acted.

Janet's eyes glinted dangerously as she faced her reluctant host. Colonel Campbell, the beta watch commander, was a very unhappy camper. He had been very reluctant to let her in – even more so when she explained why she was there.

Janet's eyes wondered across her surroundings. The Operations Center - or Combined Command Center as it was often known - was the link point for all of NORAD's functions across North America. It was located in one of the buildings just inside the massive granite doors that protected Cheyenne Mountain from any external threats. The original theory had been that it could survive even a direct blast to the former missile silo that now housed the SGC's gate room, with the impact dissipating through the tunnel that ran right through the Mountain.

Unfortunately, the development of bigger bombs had rendered the Mountain's safety in the event of a nuclear attack questionable. Let alone the more esoteric threats posed by the Goa'uld and others.

Still, the underground three-story building she was now in was a pretty impressive piece of engineering, even more so in some ways than the SGC's rabbit warren of tunnels deeper in the Mountain.

Now, though, its current boss was trying to obstruct her plan to drag the Colonel straight back down to the SGC, and make him stay there.

"Can't you just give him another hour or two," he said, hands running through his light brown hair. "We are at DEFCON 3, and Jack really is the best person for the job."

She looked at him disbelievingly. She wondered what the Colonel had done to gain this support.

"What do you mean?" she said. "I know Colonel O'Neill is technically next in the chain of command as 2IC of the SGC, but he's hardly the obvious choice to be in command when the problem is primarily a science-based one."

It wasn't that she doubted the Colonel's skills in the field - she'd seen them exercised upfront and personally. But that had been in the face of more tangible threats – the things requiring direct action. Jack was, after all, Special Forces, not a scientist.

"What do you mean," Campbell replied. "Jack's the best scientific thinker I know. I've worked with him on and off for over ten years now, and with General Hammond out of play, we really need him."

Janet did a double-take. A memory of something she'd seen on Jack's file - and dismissed – came back to her. But it couldn't be true could it?

"Look," Campbell went on. "I know a bit about what you guys really do, but not enough to deal with a situation like this. Couldn't you get your medical kit sent up and give him something to keep him going?"

"It's not as easy to fix as that, Colonel," she replied. "The Colonel was severely injured on his last mission. He was tortured. And from what I hear, he hasn't exactly been acting normally."

"I don't know what you've been told, Major, but as far as I can see, he's handling whatever happened to him just fine," Campbell replied. "I certainly haven't seen any abnormal behavior. More to the point, he's doing everything I could think of and more to handle the current crisis."

He looked back at her, almost begging.

"Alright," she said at last, capitulating for the moment. "I'll get my bag brought up and check him out up here. But if he doesn't pass, he can't stay in command."

Campbell nodded at her, but carefully didn't say anything.

Methos finished his circuit of the laboratory bench which totally dominated the room. On it, he could see a complicated looking device, hooked up to monitoring equipment. He peered at the indicators. Whatever it was, it was generating considerable amounts of power. It obviously wasn't nuclear - it was far too small.

He leant over the bench to examine it. The device seemed to be metal-based, but had no obvious moving parts. As he concentrated, a memory pushed its way to the surface, and gave him the answer. It was made of naquadah.

Naquadah! Methos thought, horrified. He hastily squashed the memories the word conjured up.

If the SGC had naquadah, they had weapons under their control beyond imagining. They had to be dealt with, and quickly.

Assuming, of course, that they were Goa'uld; were the enemy. His mind kept going around in circles, unable to decide.

Still, if they were Goa'uld, he needed a plan that would ensure that none of the vipers could escape from the nest when he destroyed it.

Janet Fraiser lurked at the back of the Cheyenne Mountain Operations Center as she waited for Colonel O'Neill's return, doing her best to keep out of the way of the technicians and officers who were bustling about. Not that the waiting was proving at all onerous.

She noticed that her escort, Corporal Ligetti, was fidgeting nervously beside her. Strictly speaking, she didn't have clearance to be in this room. She was glad Colonel Campbell had let her stay though – what she was watching was riveting.

On the big screens in front of her, she could see and hear the two F-302s - one piloted by Teal'c, one by Major Steward prepping for launch, the voices of the two pilots and their navigators echoing one another as they worked their way systematically through the pre-mission checklists. Every now and then a familiar voice - but one she couldn't quite place - would cut in over the top, to announce the next stage of the countdown.

"T minus 30 minutes and counting. All systems show clear, no orbital impediments, weather conditions remain clear," the voice said.

On another screen, Janet could see Sam huddled over a computer screen with Captain Peters, quietly muttering to each other in the SGC's control room. It was the formidable Sgt LeBeau, she could now see, whose quiet alto was supplying the audio for the countdown.

The other side of the room - almost equally fascinating - was devoted to the publicly acknowledged business of NORAD: tracking domestic flights in the US to counter potential terrorism threats; keeping an eye out for stray missiles; as well as watching out for things like potentially hazardous asteroids near Earth.

From time to time, she couldn't help glancing at the little screen showing the track of the General's flight. He'd called in a couple of times since she'd been there to get updates on the situation.

His eyes still locked on the naquadah reactor, Methos' mind started spinning through the options. Of course, he suddenly realized, relieved, a weapon like this was always a two-edged sword.

This was getting too easy, Methos thought. First, the free ticket to the SGC, now the means for its destruction.

First, though, he needed to make sure he wouldn't be disturbed. Methos pondered whether to call the Major to report his failure to find anything. She hadn't specifically asked him to - but Colonel O'Neill was obviously hoping or expecting that he would deliver. He decided that attack was, in this case, the best defense, and headed over to the phone on the desk.

Janet didn't notice the Colonel's entrance at first, so gripped was she by the process of preparing for the launch. Normally, she was stuck in the infirmary while all the excitement was taking place, praying that everything would go well, but preparing for the worst. She was jolted back to duty though when she heard his voice.

"I have command. Lieutenant, can you..," the Colonel said, and was clearly about to continue. The words were out of her mouth before she had even really thought about it.

"Oh no you don't, Colonel. I certified you fit for light duties, not command of the whole Mountain. Leave Colonel Campbell in command, or turn it over to someone else for the moment. If you want to stay, you need my clearance."

"Not that you look like you will get it," she added, as she looked at him more closely. "Haven't you had any sleep since I last examined you?"

Jack turned and glared down at her. The effect was ruined by the sunken look of his eyes, and the lines that ravaged his face. "Doctor, I'm sure you mean well, but I assure you I'm fine. And I've been ordered to take charge in the General's absence by the joint Chiefs. We have a serious situation here, as you can see," he said.

"That's all very well," she replied," but as you well know, medical orders override all others. If you had made them aware of your status...."

Jack jumped in before she could continue. He gripped her elbow, and started steering her towards a door. She realized suddenly that the entire room had lost interest in their panels, and were staring at them instead.

"Let's take this into the office if you don't mind," he said, "Colonel, if you wouldn't mind joining us?" he added, gesturing at Colonel Campbell.

This wasn't really something that should be played out in front of junior officers, she realized, and let him lead her towards the office he was pointing at.

"Lt Griffiths," he said, almost as an afterthought from the doorway. "Could you ask Colonel Wajevsky to join us here as soon as possible please? If he's not available, ask for the next available SGC officer on the HAL list, just in case."

He pulled the door of a small office closed behind them.

Sam seethed with annoyance as the phone in the control room started ringing.

"Get that would you someone," she snapped, distractedly as she continued to study the K index data she had in front of her. The solar flare forecast had worried her, and she was studying the chances of a serious geomagnetic storm.

It was bad enough, she thought, to have been dumped into a job she was not at all prepared for, and where lives could hang on her decisions, without having to cope with more distractions.

She glared at the swelling crowd in the room, in the vain hope that she could terrorize some into leaving. No such luck. She thought about ordering the hangers-on to leave, but decided against it - after all, it was their comrades who were going up there, and they deserved to know what was going on, even if it did increase her own stress levels.

"It's for you, Ma'am," Sergeant Siler said. "A Lieutenant Adams reporting on some data you asked him to examine?"

"Alright," she said, reluctantly, "put him through."

"Sorry to interrupt, Major," Lt Adams said, "But I thought I should report that there was nothing conclusive in the OSCAR II data you ran," he said sounding disappointed.

"There are a few anomalies in the results, but I'm not convinced that we've got anything yet. I will need some more time to rerun the data with a new filter on it, and see what I can get from the HAL III data."

"That's all right, Lieutenant, I wasn't really expecting instant results," she said, consciously modulating her voice to prevent the irritation she felt at this pointless interruption from creeping in. Mind you, it was just as well Adams had rung, she realized. The Colonel was bound to ask for a progress report, probably sooner rather than later.

"Anything that you need in the meantime?"

Inwardly she couldn't help gloating just a little – hell, she was human wasn't she? So she couldn't help taking some pleasure in the fact that the Colonel's new protégé hadn't come up with the goods yet.

She had been telling the truth when she told the Lieutenant she hadn't expected anything - as the Colonel would have realized if he really had known anything about the subject, science was 99 percent inspiration, only 1 percent inspiration.

Sure, serendipity happened - the happy accidents where things just turned out right first time, where solutions just dropped out of the sky, or new discoveries came out of nowhere - but it was the exception not the rule for things to work out that way.

It had taken her three months to build a particle generator so they could retrieve the Colonel from Edora, not three hours.

She wished that the Colonel would sometimes remember that, rather than taking her ability to regularly pull a scientific rabbit out of a hat for granted.

She had given the young Lieutenant the tools and space he needed to get on with it, unencumbered by interruptions. Now, she anticipated, he mainly needed time.

"Well," Lieutenant Adams said, cutting across her thoughts, "I did have a bit of an idea, but it would need a fresh observation run from the NORAD network. It would involve---"

She cut him off quickly. "That's alright, Lieutenant, you don't need to give me the details at the moment. I'll arrange for it to be authorized."

She plonked the phone down, and went back to worrying about the launch.

Jack pushed back the thump of his raging headache, and tried to smooth his face, put on a good show.

"Look, Janet, it's only for another hour or so," he said, trying desperately to persuade her to let him stay in command.

He walked over to the desk in the small office off the Cheyenne Mountain Control Center, and pushed a button, activating a wall screen displaying the control room they had just left. An ear symbol appeared on the screen.

"How long until the General gets here, Lt Griffiths?" he asked.

"ETA forty-five minutes, Sir, subject to any delays to accommodate the launch," the Lieutenant replied.

"See if they can speed up the plane, please. I want it on the ground the instant the F-302s have launched."

As soon as the Lieutenant had acknowledged the order, Jack pushed a few buttons to get rid of the sound, but left the screen on.

"One hour, Janet. Please? I really am the best person for this one - it has to be someone from the SGC, and most of our qualified team leaders are out in the field at the moment or with the General. I'm told Colonel Wajevsky, who is supposed to be holding the fort, is currently in residence in your infirmary with the flu."

He stopped as Janet snorted, and muttered something that sounded suspiciously like 'more like recovering from being beaten by your drill'.

He ignored it and went on. He was finding it hard to marshal his arguments, hard to divert his attention from the essentials of the task in front of him and still stay upright. He forced his brain to focus on convincing Janet.

"As you know, Colonel Edwards is off-w-- on a mission and can't be recalled in time. Colonel Campbell here is observing and is ready to back me up, but I'm really the only one available who has sufficient knowledge of the F-302s, the SGC and the satellite situation."

Campbell nodded in agreement.

"I'm sorry, Sirs, but medical clearance is required for a reason," Janet replied. "Your judgment could be impaired, Colonel O'Neill. There's a chain of command for just this situation - you'll just have to get the next person on the list in. What about Sam?"

Jack reigned in a sudden burst of anger, and kept his expression controlled.

"I've already assigned her two key tasks; I have her where I need her. In any case, she doesn't have the rating required for the Command Center." Jack responded, controlling his voice tightly. As he spoke, his hand reached up to pat his Master, Space and Missile Command badge, which he had taken the precaution of pining onto his uniform when he had been called in. Of course, he'd thought he was wearing his badge for the benefit of some of the NORAD people who didn't know him, not someone from his own command.

Surely, Janet knew that Sam was only rated Senior.

"Besides, I feel fine. Why don't you give me a quick pick-me-up from your bag of magic potions, and then once the General gets back, you can drag me down to your lair and have your way with me?" He smiled winningly at her, and glanced at the bag she was clutching in her hands.

The effort was only a grim echo of his usual good humor.

Before Janet could respond though, a voice interrupted. "Colonel O'Neill, I've got Major Carter online. ACE is showing increased solar activity - the probability of an M class flare has gone up to 90, and the Major wants to know whether to abort."

Jack cocked his eyebrow at the Doctor, seeking permission to answer. When she didn't object, he pushed the buttons to activate the screen showing Carter down in the SGC.

As Sam waited, twitching impatiently, the screen suddenly shifted to show the Colonel in a small office, along with Colonel Campbell. Janet, she saw with satisfaction, was also seated with them. She had done her best to get Jack the help he needed. Now it was up to Janet.

"What's the probability of an X class, Major?" the Colonel demanded irritably. She looked at him, surprised. She had expected Colonel Campbell to take the lead in the circumstances. She pulled herself together - this was just Jack after all.

"50 percent, Sir," she replied steadily. "The readings should be coming up on your screen."

She pushed the keys to transfer the data, and waited for him to ask her to explain it to him, as he always did. Instead, she watched in disbelief as he played briefly with his terminal, and turned the data into a graph. Janet, she could see was similarly taken aback. Sam watched as Jack leaned over the table to consult with Colonel Campbell.

"What do you think, Bob?" the Colonel said. "I know we'd can it if it was the shuttle, but it's only an M2, and even a low X class shouldn't really be a problem for the F-302s. Mind you, we might lose our links with them, and I don't really want to do that with who knows what up there. Still, we're running out of time here."

Sam sat, stunned into silence, as techno-babble ran in streams between the two Colonels. There was none of her Colonel's normal mangling of scientific jargon, none of his muddling of concepts. Not even any jokes.

Part way through the discussion, the Colonel called up Lt Griffiths, and had him add more data to their screens, along with an electronic representation of the roiling sun.

Before she could recover enough to even attempt to contribute to the discussion, Colonel Campbell drew it to a close. "I think we have to go Jack, if you're sure the F-302s can take it. Even if we do go to major flare status, we'll still have almost an hour's warning, and those birds can certainly get down in that time."

"Any objections Major?" Jack said.

"No, sir," she managed to get out, hoping that it sounded like something close to her normal voice. She couldn't, however, control the flush of red that was suffusing her face. The screen didn't let her see whether he had noticed.

"Very well then, we will proceed with the countdown at this stage. I'll get Lieutenant Griffiths to make sure you have a priority live feed from ACE and GOES just in case."

She was still staring at the screen when Jack reached over, and the screen flicked back to a view of the Operations Center proper.

"ACE? GOES? What is all that?" Janet asked, diverted despite her best intentions. "And how come you suddenly know all this stuff Colonel? You normally struggle even to use a computer to write up your reports!"

"Hum, well, ACE is the Advanced Composition Explorer - it's a spaceship sitting between the sun and Earth to monitor solar winds and flares. It's situated far enough away from us - about 1.5 million kilometers away - to give us early warning of major solar storms and potential blackouts. In theory, we should get about an hour's advance warning of anything serious coming from the sun."

He paused to see if she was following.

"Go on," she said, "it's fascinating. So what's an M class when it's at home?"

"An M class flare is a medium sized one, which can cause a few blackouts, and definitely causes problems for a space shuttle launch. An X is a biggie - potential for worldwide blackouts, and potentially serious problems for astronauts, at least ones in conventional spacecraft. The worst we've recorded since ACE has been up was on Bastille Day in 2000 - it was an X6, and that caused a fair amount of damage. You know, blackouts, malfunctioning satellites, that kind of thing."

"So what's that picture there showing," she asked, pointing at the electronic image of the sun sitting next to the graphs on the screen.

"You're looking at pictures from the Solar X-ray imager on the GOES 12 spaceship. There are still a few wrinkles in the data," he said, "but it sure looks pretty," he said, reverting to his usual style when it came to things scientific in briefings. He hoped he could lighten her mood a bit, and perhaps encourage her to relent.

"As for how I know this stuff, I thought I'd already been busted by Sam. I thought she would have told you all about it," he said more seriously. "Anyway,Janet, I though you at least might have seen through me earlier - you must have noticed from my file that I used to work in NORAD before the SGC?"

She frowned. "Well, yes, but---"

"But you thought it was a cover story?" He said. Actually, it was in part - he had continued to be given the odd covert assignment even after he had changed career tracks.

"Yes," she said, looking a bit ashamed.

"Okay, so I might have lead you all on a bit. I do tend to downplay my computer skills and knowledge a little when it doesn't really matter," he went on.

"A little team-building tool you might say - let the resident geniuses work together and help the poor old dumb Colonel out," he added cheekily.

He saw respond to his attempt at humor.

"I see, Sir, so that's why you let your hair go gray, " she said. " A little extra help to the doddering image? Not that it doesn't make you look distinguished," she added hastily.

He grinned in response. Actually, he had learnt to play down his science skills in self-defense while in training for special ops. Most of his training had been in joint forces schools - and Marines weren't called jarheads for nothing.

Colonel Campbell glanced at the countdown clock and interjected for the first time.

"Look Doctor, Colonel O'Neill invented half the techniques and procedures we're using today in Space Control, he said. "He trained me, but I really don't have the detailed knowledge of the F-302s to oversee a launch, let alone deal with what we might find up there. Besides, we're running out of time. We'll have to abort the launch if you won't let him stay in charge, and any delay could pose a serious danger to Earth."

"In any case, he can't turn over command to me - under the HAL protocol it has to be an SGC officer."

"Okay, I'll buy it," she said. "But I have to be satisfied that you really can keep going Colonel. And I'm not forgetting about your little disobedience to medical orders either."

"Let me take a quick look at you and I'll see what we can do. I'll give you a call when I've finished, Colonel Campbell," she said, effectively dismissing him.

Methos had only been working on his newly acquired data for about five minutes when alarms started whooping through the complex.

A voice boomed out of the speakers. "Off-world activation," it said, "Repeat, Off-world activation."

Well that explained a lot, he thought. They had a Chappa'ai. A gate that could take them instantly to virtually anywhere in the galaxy, well at least anywhere that had a matching gate at the other end. A gate that might allow them to escape if he gave them any warning of the destruction of their lair.

He was still contemplating the implications of the Chappa 'ai when he heard the sound of boots marching in the corridor, and voices.

He poked his head out the door, but the guard who had arrived a few minutes previously politely directed him back into the room. "If you would stay inside out of the way, please Sir."

He retreated, but not before he saw three Jaffa - one a prime, from the flash of gold - in full armor, complete with staff weapons, followed by a tanned, balding, older man in oddly plain clothes for a Goa'uld. Not that there was any doubt about his identity. The glowing eyes and distorted voice was a dead giveaway.

Shaking inwardly, Methos reflected grimly on what he had seen. There was no doubt now - the SGC had to be destroyed. He couldn't let them steal more bodies, or destroy this world. The only issue was the best moment.

As Methos sat, thinking through his game plan, he noticed that Ferretti's screensaver had popped up on the computer. He grinned ferally. He watched the little cartoon figure say, "Get off my ship" once again, and thought about the irony of it.

He had added his virus to it when it was still being developed, still had an innocent façade, snatching the chance when one of the SGC people in Space Control had gone on a dinner break a few days previously. It was only later, when Colonel O'Neill had come across it that he had discovered that even its façade wasn't so innocent.

He wondered how widely his little surprise had spread.

"So Colonel," Janet said, "How are you really doing? You may as well relax, my instruments will tell me the truth regardless of what you say."

Five minutes later, they returned to the main control room, and Janet reluctantly let him assume command. She had given him some painkillers and a mild stimulant, but fairly soon he was going to have to rest.

She hesitated near the doorway, not wanting to miss out on the fun - or to let her patient out of her sight. On the wall chart, the countdown was now at t minus twenty. No one from the SGC, she noticed, had yet appeared, so it was just as well that she had decided to let him stay on, she thought grumpily.

"Hey Doc, want to stay and watch?" the Colonel said, obviously detecting her reluctance to leave.

"Yes sir, thank you," she said eagerly, glad to get the chance just for once to see it all happening. And glad to, to be in the right place so that she could be ready to pick up the pieces when the Colonel finally did fall apart.