Author's note: Special thanks to all the reviewers - reached 150 reviews, wow, thank you so much for the encouragement! I enjoyed the virtual cookies Penny! Hopefully more angst, twists, suspense and humor coming up, your comments are spurring me to knuckle down to it!
Thanks again to Village Mystic, Teri and Jezowen for suggestions and comments.
Revised 2/7/2004
Ch 12: Going down
Methos sat, frozen in place, as the screens in the briefing room turned to fuzz, and the voice to noise. He gripped his hands together, twisting them nervously, until he noticed what he was doing, and stilled them.
The only sounds in the room were the static coming over the speakers from the two spacecraft, and Major Carter's voice repeating a plea for them to respond.
It was not, however, the fate of the spaceship crews that was inducing his panic. As the launch had progressed, he had had more and more trouble concentrating on it, rather than the Goa'uld and Jaffa who surrounded him. This was much worse than the senior officer briefing, much worse than working with Major Maybe-a-Goa'uld Carter. Earlier, he had had suspicions only; now he was sure. And he knew the danger that could come at any moment from the infant Goa'uld concealed in the pseudo-wombs of the Jaffa; symbiotes biding their time until they were mature enough to be able to control a human host.
He looked again at the fierce-looking old Jaffa - Bray'tac, he thought he'd heard him called - and wondered what he had done to be able to survive this long. 'Old Jaffa' was normally a contradiction in terms. He suppressed a shiver.
Beam me up, Scotty, he thought. The Enterprise in any of her incarnations would be good right now.
It hadn't been so bad at first. At least when he had first entered the room, he had had something to do: convince them of his ignorance; try and gain Daniel's trust. He brought his hands up in front of him, locked together so he could control them, and leaned his elbows on the table.
He replayed the visual they had just seen in his mind. The force-field or whatever it was that had attacked the Jaffa's spacecraft had looked like nothing so much as a Quickening, the energies released when an immortal lost his or her head. It seemed unlikely, however, that there was a connection - energy manifestations, he guessed, inevitably looked similar.
As he cast a furtive glance around the room once more, he noticed that he wasn't the only one whose tension levels were rising. He was surprised at the reactions from the figures around the table. Concern from the other Jaffa for a comrade, he supposed he could understand. Maybe the 'General' was concerned about the threat posed by a mysterious object that could put a death glider out of action?
All the same, something seemed to be slightly off. It was odd for a Goa'uld - even one pretending to be a human at the moment - to seem so concerned.
Only Daniel's reaction seemed consistent with his nature, Methos thought. Daniel had leapt up out of his chair and started pacing, clearly desperate to do something - not that there was anything anyone here actually could do right at the moment.
There must be some way he could capitalize on the opportunity.
The screen flickered again briefly, showing an image of Major Steward apparently unharmed. A few seconds later, the Jaffa and his navigator appeared on the screen, both apparently unconscious.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of gold flick across the General's eyes then die, with the picture on the screen. So much for concern, he thought, as he noticed the face of the Goa'uld harden. He pretended not to have noticed the General's momentary lapse.
He had to get out there, and fast, he decided, before the Goa'uld could no longer control himself. He waited another few minutes, but the picture didn't come back. The screen cut to a view of Patterson Air Force Base.
He put his hands back down under the table, and pulled together what he could of his current persona.
"Dr Jackson, " he said, "With this emergency, everyone's going to be a bit preoccupied for a while. I wonder if I could go back to the lab so I can continue working? I have permission to tie into the telescope array, so I might be able to find something that could help locate the spacecraft and whatever caused it to be jolted like that."
"Well I guess that's OK," Daniel said distractedly, "If you think you can help?"
"Well there are no guarantees, " he replied, "But at least I can try."
He noticed the elderly Apophis Prime nod approvingly, and cringed inside. He had to get out of that room. He stood up, and took Daniel's shoulder, guiding him in the direction of the door. It seemed like a century had passed before they finally made it into the corridor, as Daniel kept looking back, clearly hoping that visuals from the spacecraft would return.
Once in the lab, he turned the screen back on so he could monitor any developments on the mission, then made a show of looking at the data flashing on the computer. He started typing, pulling the data into graphs and tables, feeling more and more frustrated as the minutes ticked by. Daniel, it seemed, wasn't planning on leaving quickly.
An idea occurred to him, and so he walked over to the other computer in the room. The screensaver disappeared as he touched the keyboard.
****************************************
Jack slammed his head down onto the desk in front of him with a resounding thump. The pain counter-balanced his previous headache quite nicely.
He looked up to see the Doctor wince in sympathy. He swung his now doubly aching head around so he could see the screen. To his surprise, it had regained a picture, and it was a doozy.
Thor was sitting in a golden throne, surrounded by the kneeling figures of his all-time favorite Goa'uld, including Osiris, Ba'al, Yu and Anubis. Way to go Thor!
He looked around the room, carefully. No one showed signs of seeing anything amiss. In fact, everyone seemed locked in frantic activity to regain contact with the spacecraft.
Could they be pretending, he thought, trying to psych him out? He turned around and studied Dr Fraiser. She returned his glance calmly.
He brought his hand up to his head. It had to be a hallucination. There was, after all, no way that Thor could be staring down at him from the screen, was there? Well, maybe there was, but not perhaps this particular vision.
Pull yourself together, Jack, he told himself. It's just sleep deprivation. You know, that thing that happens when you forego the dark bliss: a few flying pigs, the shakes, a bit of paranoia to stir the pot. Nothing to worry about really. He just had to remember his training, to fight it, so he could get Teal'c back.
He focused again on the screen. The vision tormented him, fading in and out like the Cheshire cat, until it finally disappeared. He turned back to the console, and added his voice to the activity. It felt like jello wrestling - slipping and sliding at half speed through gunk.
******************************************
Teal'c came back to consciousness with a jolt. He reached out to grip the controls of his craft tightly, and attempted to bring it under control.
The wild spasms that were ripping through his muscles, though, made him jerk the controls as he had when he had learned to drive, and struggled to use the illogically arranged clutch of his car. His motions exacerbated the wild gyrations of the ship as it tossed and turned in response to the bolts of blue lightning that surrounded them. He temporarily relinquished his attempt to gain control of the ship.
He noticed that the lightning did seem to be dying down somewhat, and the ship's gyrations were reducing in intensity.
"Lt Mintz," he mouthed, trying to ascertain the state of health of his navigator. Nothing came out of his rasping and dry throat. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Lt Mintz, are you injured?"
The response was a deafening silence. A positive answer in context, he realized. He tried looking over his shoulder to see if he could do anything for the Lieutenant. He was unsuccessful: his neck was locked in place.
He decided to attempt the instrument panel again, and reached over to it, trying to time his movements to fit between spasms. After three attempts, he managed to flick the external communications switch, and tried calling the SGC.
There was, however, no response, nothing in fact but white noise on the channel. He wondered idly for a moment how the Tau'ri had arrived at that term for the interference that grated in his ear, seemingly incorporating the entire audible spectrum. There was, after all, nothing to particularly associate the hissing sound that emanated from his equipment with the color.
His mind instantly flooded with possible dictionary definitions from which he could draw combinations to tease his friends - bleached sound, ashen dissonance, blanched clamor, and achromatic cacophony. He stopped himself.
If he wished to see those friends again, he needed to focus on the problem at hand. Achieve control. Exclude the unimportant.
He attempted once more to bring his muscles under control, trying to draw himself into Kel'No'Reem. It was a futile effort. Even at the best of times now, he found it difficult to achieve the state of meditation that he had previously been able to achieve with the help of the symbiote he had nurtured in his pseudo-womb. He had come to terms with the loss of the benefits to his health and strength that the symbiote that had once substituted for his immune system had conferred. The drug, Tritonin, kept him alive. But there were times when he felt his symbiotes loss acutely. This was one of them.
At least, he was conscious, even if only just. Teal'c was fairly sure he had a head injury of some kind, given that he was unable to rotate his neck. His arms and hands were still spasming, jerking almost uncontrollably as the lightning bolts rocked the ship. He bit his lip to stop from crying out with the pain as another surge hit him.
He tried to recall the events that had led to his current situation. The launch had gone smoothly, apart from the warning of increased solar activity, which no doubt accounted for the lack of communications.
He had started the agreed grid search on the likely locations of any alien body, with no success at first. Until suddenly, he had run into what seemed to be a force field. At first, the ship had just done a violent bounce, seemingly tossed away from whatever it was the force field was protecting. Now though, it seemed to be caught in some kind of alien energy field, one that showed no inclination to let him go.
Teal'c focused his attention on the panel in front of him, to see if there was anything he could do to regain control of his craft. Most of the instruments surrounding him looked dead.
As the energy jolted through him yet again, he realized he had no choice - he had to try and maneuver himself out of its grip. He seized the controls once more, and held on to them as he pushed the button to activate the thrusters for the craft. After several false starts - and a few more wild turns - he felt the craft slowly responding. He tried a burst of power to see if he could get himself out of range of the lightning. To his surprise, the forward thrusters actually worked, and he started edging his way out of the lightning zone.
***************************
The Operations Center was frantic as the picture on the screen flicked on and off, then died again completely. Jack looked much worse, Janet thought, as he turned from the blank screen to stare at her, stony-faced. The stimulant was obviously already starting to wear off. This was way too soon. He must have been far worse then she had thought to begin with.
Janet hoped that the General would arrive soon - when Jack crashed, he was going to crash completely. She knew though that there was absolutely no point in trying to pry Jack out at the moment, not with Teal'c and his teams in danger.
"Sir, Sir, we have something on radar, " one of the technicians said excitedly. "It's making a controlled descent, and should be on track to land at Patterson in approximately..." he paused for a moment, evidently doing a quick calculation. "One minute thirty seconds Sir".
Janet felt the depression start to lift, but then processed the words. Surprisingly, Jack articulated the thought before she could.
"Only one track detected?" he demanded. "Yes, Sir, " the technician replied. "I'm still searching." She saw him waver momentarily, and then straighten up again.
"Alright, alert Air Traffic Control and emergency response teams."
Jack reached over to tap the comlink to Space Control. "Commander Doull, focus the array on the two flight paths if you can. See if you can see anything out there."
"Already done, Sir," she replied. "I'll let you know as soon as we find anything."
Jack shrugged, clearly doubting the optimism her words implied, then focused on the screen now showing Patterson Air Force Base's Air Traffic Control tower.
Janet stood there, hugging the wall, and hoping desperately for news of the safety of the crew now headed towards them, and the safety of the other craft.
"We have visual contact, " a voice finally said, "Repeat we have visual contact."
"Second track now detected, " interrupted the technician. "ETA Patterson, two minutes." A cheer broke out in the room. Jack waved them down, his face still hard and pale. They weren't down yet.
As Janet looked around the room to watch the elated faces, she noticed the General slip quietly in the door. She moved up to him from her place against the wall, but before she could say anything, Jack had homed in on them.
"Sir, " he said glancing sideways at Janet, "You have command. The F-302s are on their way in, but no coms. We should know if they are ok in a few minutes."
"Thank you Jack. Bring them home, and then you can brief me." The General turned towards her. "Doctor, what are you doing up here?" he asked.
"Colonel O'Neill required some medical attention, " she replied sharply. "In fact, as of right now, I'm declaring him unfit for duty."
"I see," the General replied. He turned to stare hard at Jack.
Although the General was short, fat and balding, he had considerable command presence. He was more than capable of conveying his disapproval with little more than a glance. 'Could Colonel's quiver?', she wondered.
The moment was interrupted though, by the beeping of the monitors. The General's eyes moved quickly back to the screen above them showing the radar track of the two rapidly descending craft. She stood back to watch - she wanted to know as much as anyone that their friends were down and safe.
The room collectively held its breath. Suddenly, the signal from the internal cameras on the craft flicked back on as they reached the lower atmosphere. They could see that the crew was conscious - if barely. First one, then the other craft finally touched down. The room erupted in cheers. The mission hadn't been successful, but at least everyone was back.
"Right Sir, " Janet said, advancing on the Colonel. "You're mine now. Come along please."
"Please, Janet, just let me sit it out here. I won't be in command, and I promise I'll take it easy, scout's honor."
"No, Sir, not one minute more, " she replied, glaring up at him, "There are plenty of other people here who can brief the General on what's been happening."
Jack ignored her, and turned back to the General. "It might be a good time for alpha shift to take a break, Sir, " he said. "I've had the other shifts on standby for the last couple of hours while the F-302s were up."
"Yes, do it," General Hammond said, nodding at Colonel Campbell to order the shift change. "The Mountain stays sealed though, until further notice."
Janet spun around, and glared at the General. He waved his hands as if to protect himself, and started talking hastily.
"I think you had better listen to the Doctor, son. You can fill me in on anything that the others can't cover later."
"But, Sir," he protested, "I really need to bring you up to speed. And this is one of those one's that I really need to be here for."
Outraged, Janet advanced on him, put her hands on her hips and pitched her voice to carry. "Jonathon O'Neill, she said, eyes flashing, "You know perfectly well that my orders override anyone else's on medical matters. I've given you a lot of leeway. But it ends, now. You promised to step down as soon as the General arrived, and he's here. Do I need to call an MP?"
He started stepping backwards, towards the door as she moved closer. She heard the General asking Colonel Campbell to assemble a senior officer's briefing.
As the door closed behind them, she saw Jack sag against the wall. "Just give me a second, Doc, " he said, waving her away ineffectually.
She moved closer, in case he needed help. Before she reached him, though, his face turned abruptly green, and he slowly toppled to the floor.
*************
Hope you're still enjoying...do please review!
Thanks again to Village Mystic, Teri and Jezowen for suggestions and comments.
Revised 2/7/2004
Ch 12: Going down
Methos sat, frozen in place, as the screens in the briefing room turned to fuzz, and the voice to noise. He gripped his hands together, twisting them nervously, until he noticed what he was doing, and stilled them.
The only sounds in the room were the static coming over the speakers from the two spacecraft, and Major Carter's voice repeating a plea for them to respond.
It was not, however, the fate of the spaceship crews that was inducing his panic. As the launch had progressed, he had had more and more trouble concentrating on it, rather than the Goa'uld and Jaffa who surrounded him. This was much worse than the senior officer briefing, much worse than working with Major Maybe-a-Goa'uld Carter. Earlier, he had had suspicions only; now he was sure. And he knew the danger that could come at any moment from the infant Goa'uld concealed in the pseudo-wombs of the Jaffa; symbiotes biding their time until they were mature enough to be able to control a human host.
He looked again at the fierce-looking old Jaffa - Bray'tac, he thought he'd heard him called - and wondered what he had done to be able to survive this long. 'Old Jaffa' was normally a contradiction in terms. He suppressed a shiver.
Beam me up, Scotty, he thought. The Enterprise in any of her incarnations would be good right now.
It hadn't been so bad at first. At least when he had first entered the room, he had had something to do: convince them of his ignorance; try and gain Daniel's trust. He brought his hands up in front of him, locked together so he could control them, and leaned his elbows on the table.
He replayed the visual they had just seen in his mind. The force-field or whatever it was that had attacked the Jaffa's spacecraft had looked like nothing so much as a Quickening, the energies released when an immortal lost his or her head. It seemed unlikely, however, that there was a connection - energy manifestations, he guessed, inevitably looked similar.
As he cast a furtive glance around the room once more, he noticed that he wasn't the only one whose tension levels were rising. He was surprised at the reactions from the figures around the table. Concern from the other Jaffa for a comrade, he supposed he could understand. Maybe the 'General' was concerned about the threat posed by a mysterious object that could put a death glider out of action?
All the same, something seemed to be slightly off. It was odd for a Goa'uld - even one pretending to be a human at the moment - to seem so concerned.
Only Daniel's reaction seemed consistent with his nature, Methos thought. Daniel had leapt up out of his chair and started pacing, clearly desperate to do something - not that there was anything anyone here actually could do right at the moment.
There must be some way he could capitalize on the opportunity.
The screen flickered again briefly, showing an image of Major Steward apparently unharmed. A few seconds later, the Jaffa and his navigator appeared on the screen, both apparently unconscious.
Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of gold flick across the General's eyes then die, with the picture on the screen. So much for concern, he thought, as he noticed the face of the Goa'uld harden. He pretended not to have noticed the General's momentary lapse.
He had to get out there, and fast, he decided, before the Goa'uld could no longer control himself. He waited another few minutes, but the picture didn't come back. The screen cut to a view of Patterson Air Force Base.
He put his hands back down under the table, and pulled together what he could of his current persona.
"Dr Jackson, " he said, "With this emergency, everyone's going to be a bit preoccupied for a while. I wonder if I could go back to the lab so I can continue working? I have permission to tie into the telescope array, so I might be able to find something that could help locate the spacecraft and whatever caused it to be jolted like that."
"Well I guess that's OK," Daniel said distractedly, "If you think you can help?"
"Well there are no guarantees, " he replied, "But at least I can try."
He noticed the elderly Apophis Prime nod approvingly, and cringed inside. He had to get out of that room. He stood up, and took Daniel's shoulder, guiding him in the direction of the door. It seemed like a century had passed before they finally made it into the corridor, as Daniel kept looking back, clearly hoping that visuals from the spacecraft would return.
Once in the lab, he turned the screen back on so he could monitor any developments on the mission, then made a show of looking at the data flashing on the computer. He started typing, pulling the data into graphs and tables, feeling more and more frustrated as the minutes ticked by. Daniel, it seemed, wasn't planning on leaving quickly.
An idea occurred to him, and so he walked over to the other computer in the room. The screensaver disappeared as he touched the keyboard.
****************************************
Jack slammed his head down onto the desk in front of him with a resounding thump. The pain counter-balanced his previous headache quite nicely.
He looked up to see the Doctor wince in sympathy. He swung his now doubly aching head around so he could see the screen. To his surprise, it had regained a picture, and it was a doozy.
Thor was sitting in a golden throne, surrounded by the kneeling figures of his all-time favorite Goa'uld, including Osiris, Ba'al, Yu and Anubis. Way to go Thor!
He looked around the room, carefully. No one showed signs of seeing anything amiss. In fact, everyone seemed locked in frantic activity to regain contact with the spacecraft.
Could they be pretending, he thought, trying to psych him out? He turned around and studied Dr Fraiser. She returned his glance calmly.
He brought his hand up to his head. It had to be a hallucination. There was, after all, no way that Thor could be staring down at him from the screen, was there? Well, maybe there was, but not perhaps this particular vision.
Pull yourself together, Jack, he told himself. It's just sleep deprivation. You know, that thing that happens when you forego the dark bliss: a few flying pigs, the shakes, a bit of paranoia to stir the pot. Nothing to worry about really. He just had to remember his training, to fight it, so he could get Teal'c back.
He focused again on the screen. The vision tormented him, fading in and out like the Cheshire cat, until it finally disappeared. He turned back to the console, and added his voice to the activity. It felt like jello wrestling - slipping and sliding at half speed through gunk.
******************************************
Teal'c came back to consciousness with a jolt. He reached out to grip the controls of his craft tightly, and attempted to bring it under control.
The wild spasms that were ripping through his muscles, though, made him jerk the controls as he had when he had learned to drive, and struggled to use the illogically arranged clutch of his car. His motions exacerbated the wild gyrations of the ship as it tossed and turned in response to the bolts of blue lightning that surrounded them. He temporarily relinquished his attempt to gain control of the ship.
He noticed that the lightning did seem to be dying down somewhat, and the ship's gyrations were reducing in intensity.
"Lt Mintz," he mouthed, trying to ascertain the state of health of his navigator. Nothing came out of his rasping and dry throat. He cleared his throat and tried again. "Lt Mintz, are you injured?"
The response was a deafening silence. A positive answer in context, he realized. He tried looking over his shoulder to see if he could do anything for the Lieutenant. He was unsuccessful: his neck was locked in place.
He decided to attempt the instrument panel again, and reached over to it, trying to time his movements to fit between spasms. After three attempts, he managed to flick the external communications switch, and tried calling the SGC.
There was, however, no response, nothing in fact but white noise on the channel. He wondered idly for a moment how the Tau'ri had arrived at that term for the interference that grated in his ear, seemingly incorporating the entire audible spectrum. There was, after all, nothing to particularly associate the hissing sound that emanated from his equipment with the color.
His mind instantly flooded with possible dictionary definitions from which he could draw combinations to tease his friends - bleached sound, ashen dissonance, blanched clamor, and achromatic cacophony. He stopped himself.
If he wished to see those friends again, he needed to focus on the problem at hand. Achieve control. Exclude the unimportant.
He attempted once more to bring his muscles under control, trying to draw himself into Kel'No'Reem. It was a futile effort. Even at the best of times now, he found it difficult to achieve the state of meditation that he had previously been able to achieve with the help of the symbiote he had nurtured in his pseudo-womb. He had come to terms with the loss of the benefits to his health and strength that the symbiote that had once substituted for his immune system had conferred. The drug, Tritonin, kept him alive. But there were times when he felt his symbiotes loss acutely. This was one of them.
At least, he was conscious, even if only just. Teal'c was fairly sure he had a head injury of some kind, given that he was unable to rotate his neck. His arms and hands were still spasming, jerking almost uncontrollably as the lightning bolts rocked the ship. He bit his lip to stop from crying out with the pain as another surge hit him.
He tried to recall the events that had led to his current situation. The launch had gone smoothly, apart from the warning of increased solar activity, which no doubt accounted for the lack of communications.
He had started the agreed grid search on the likely locations of any alien body, with no success at first. Until suddenly, he had run into what seemed to be a force field. At first, the ship had just done a violent bounce, seemingly tossed away from whatever it was the force field was protecting. Now though, it seemed to be caught in some kind of alien energy field, one that showed no inclination to let him go.
Teal'c focused his attention on the panel in front of him, to see if there was anything he could do to regain control of his craft. Most of the instruments surrounding him looked dead.
As the energy jolted through him yet again, he realized he had no choice - he had to try and maneuver himself out of its grip. He seized the controls once more, and held on to them as he pushed the button to activate the thrusters for the craft. After several false starts - and a few more wild turns - he felt the craft slowly responding. He tried a burst of power to see if he could get himself out of range of the lightning. To his surprise, the forward thrusters actually worked, and he started edging his way out of the lightning zone.
***************************
The Operations Center was frantic as the picture on the screen flicked on and off, then died again completely. Jack looked much worse, Janet thought, as he turned from the blank screen to stare at her, stony-faced. The stimulant was obviously already starting to wear off. This was way too soon. He must have been far worse then she had thought to begin with.
Janet hoped that the General would arrive soon - when Jack crashed, he was going to crash completely. She knew though that there was absolutely no point in trying to pry Jack out at the moment, not with Teal'c and his teams in danger.
"Sir, Sir, we have something on radar, " one of the technicians said excitedly. "It's making a controlled descent, and should be on track to land at Patterson in approximately..." he paused for a moment, evidently doing a quick calculation. "One minute thirty seconds Sir".
Janet felt the depression start to lift, but then processed the words. Surprisingly, Jack articulated the thought before she could.
"Only one track detected?" he demanded. "Yes, Sir, " the technician replied. "I'm still searching." She saw him waver momentarily, and then straighten up again.
"Alright, alert Air Traffic Control and emergency response teams."
Jack reached over to tap the comlink to Space Control. "Commander Doull, focus the array on the two flight paths if you can. See if you can see anything out there."
"Already done, Sir," she replied. "I'll let you know as soon as we find anything."
Jack shrugged, clearly doubting the optimism her words implied, then focused on the screen now showing Patterson Air Force Base's Air Traffic Control tower.
Janet stood there, hugging the wall, and hoping desperately for news of the safety of the crew now headed towards them, and the safety of the other craft.
"We have visual contact, " a voice finally said, "Repeat we have visual contact."
"Second track now detected, " interrupted the technician. "ETA Patterson, two minutes." A cheer broke out in the room. Jack waved them down, his face still hard and pale. They weren't down yet.
As Janet looked around the room to watch the elated faces, she noticed the General slip quietly in the door. She moved up to him from her place against the wall, but before she could say anything, Jack had homed in on them.
"Sir, " he said glancing sideways at Janet, "You have command. The F-302s are on their way in, but no coms. We should know if they are ok in a few minutes."
"Thank you Jack. Bring them home, and then you can brief me." The General turned towards her. "Doctor, what are you doing up here?" he asked.
"Colonel O'Neill required some medical attention, " she replied sharply. "In fact, as of right now, I'm declaring him unfit for duty."
"I see," the General replied. He turned to stare hard at Jack.
Although the General was short, fat and balding, he had considerable command presence. He was more than capable of conveying his disapproval with little more than a glance. 'Could Colonel's quiver?', she wondered.
The moment was interrupted though, by the beeping of the monitors. The General's eyes moved quickly back to the screen above them showing the radar track of the two rapidly descending craft. She stood back to watch - she wanted to know as much as anyone that their friends were down and safe.
The room collectively held its breath. Suddenly, the signal from the internal cameras on the craft flicked back on as they reached the lower atmosphere. They could see that the crew was conscious - if barely. First one, then the other craft finally touched down. The room erupted in cheers. The mission hadn't been successful, but at least everyone was back.
"Right Sir, " Janet said, advancing on the Colonel. "You're mine now. Come along please."
"Please, Janet, just let me sit it out here. I won't be in command, and I promise I'll take it easy, scout's honor."
"No, Sir, not one minute more, " she replied, glaring up at him, "There are plenty of other people here who can brief the General on what's been happening."
Jack ignored her, and turned back to the General. "It might be a good time for alpha shift to take a break, Sir, " he said. "I've had the other shifts on standby for the last couple of hours while the F-302s were up."
"Yes, do it," General Hammond said, nodding at Colonel Campbell to order the shift change. "The Mountain stays sealed though, until further notice."
Janet spun around, and glared at the General. He waved his hands as if to protect himself, and started talking hastily.
"I think you had better listen to the Doctor, son. You can fill me in on anything that the others can't cover later."
"But, Sir," he protested, "I really need to bring you up to speed. And this is one of those one's that I really need to be here for."
Outraged, Janet advanced on him, put her hands on her hips and pitched her voice to carry. "Jonathon O'Neill, she said, eyes flashing, "You know perfectly well that my orders override anyone else's on medical matters. I've given you a lot of leeway. But it ends, now. You promised to step down as soon as the General arrived, and he's here. Do I need to call an MP?"
He started stepping backwards, towards the door as she moved closer. She heard the General asking Colonel Campbell to assemble a senior officer's briefing.
As the door closed behind them, she saw Jack sag against the wall. "Just give me a second, Doc, " he said, waving her away ineffectually.
She moved closer, in case he needed help. Before she reached him, though, his face turned abruptly green, and he slowly toppled to the floor.
*************
Hope you're still enjoying...do please review!