Author's notes:
First an apology - despite all your enthusiastic support, it has taken me a while to update. I've had more than a few diversions to cope with in RL over the last few weeks, some positive, others rather less so. Your reviews did however spur me to get back to it, so here it finally is. Hopefully I should get a reasonable amount of writing time over the next few weeks - but please do keep up your prods!
And now for the thank yous. Thank you first of all to the fabulous Jezowen and Village Mystic. They are making this story much, much better than it otherwise would be, as well as far more fun to write. They put up with at least seven attempts at bits of this chapter, and still managed to keep track of the ever changing plot development order!
Secondly, a big thanks to all of those reading this, especially those who have reviewed. I've been amazed at the number of hits this story has received. And I was totally overwhelmed by the reviews for chapter 16, it was a fantastic response, thank you so much.
I really treasure all of the feedback you send. I'm pretty sure I couldn't keep writing if it wasn't for the level of interaction my betas and your reviews provide. I really appreciate the concrete suggestions and reactions. For the Danielites, (SallyK, Moonbeam) a little taster in this chapter, more on the way very soon (along with more of the rest of the team)! Kyra, hopefully things are continuing to come a bit clearer, although don't think its all over yet!
Thanks too, though, to those who just said more please (and from Myst...moremoremore) - you really do push me to get back down to it. Of course, I'm sure it was the threat of the headhunting zombie pygmies coming to my house that finally did the trick!
One other note - Moonbeam, your review of the revised chapter 7 is on the mark - there are some hints dropped there that will become important to the story later (although for those who don't want to reread, don't worry, I'll recapitulate enough for you to follow).
Thanks again and bear with me,
Magda
***************
CHAPTER 17: CAPTURE
Jack stared, transfixed, as the body in front of him convulsed and then drew a massive, racking breath. Adams' eyes flickered open momentarily, then slid shut again. Jack noted that Adams' chest had started to rise and fall again, but there was no sign that he was conscious.
What was this, he thought, Terminator? Would nothing kill him? Adams had been dead, he was convinced. No-one - or at least no-one purely human - could survive two zat blasts.
Jack pulled out his P90, and hoped it would work. "Hey Ferretti," he called. "Come and give me a hand, he's still alive."
Troops started pouring into the corridor. He waved them across to help with the injured and secure the area, even as he continued to watch the body tensely. Adams didn't move.
"Sergeant Gardner, check on the others, would you, " he said to one of the newcomers, and pointing in the direction of the downed SFs. "Lou, you search Adams. I'll cover you." He gestured to one of arriving troops to come over and help.
Jack took stock of the situation. Adams had managed to take out three well trained SFs in seconds. Although Elder was at least awake, Bollard and Surma were still out of it, sprawled unconscious in the corridor in front of him in the wake of their attempt to capture Adams.
Jack wondered why Adams hadn't killed them. Why had he used a zat rather than anything more permanent? If Adams survived, they really needed to interrogate him.
"Bollard and Elder are fine, Sir," Gardner interjected. Jack spared a glance to see that Sgt Bollard was starting to wake up. Gardner had moved over to Surma. As he did so, the medical team appeared in the corridor. Jack gestured at them to stay out of his line of fire. Gingerly, they moved around him, and prepared to move the injured airmen to the infirmary.
Jack watched for any reaction as Ferretti carefully patted Adams down. There was none. Lou gingerly handed off the zat, then removed a gun strapped to an ankle. As his hands reached Adams' arms, he stopped to remove stilettos from each of his wrists, before carefully unzipping Adams' vest.
Jack grimaced as the contents of the level 19 armory started appearing in front of him. Why did they let SG-3 have toys like this anyway?
Lou started warily pulling weapons and ammunition from the vest's pockets. After several spare rounds came first another Goa'uld sonic grenade, another handgun, two conventional grenades, some C4 and a smoke bomb. Each item was handed over to Gardner who in turn was handing them off for storage at a safe distance.
Jack was still watching Lou pass across more items from the small arsenal when suddenly Adams' hand reached up and pulled Lou down on top of him. Adams' legs snaked up and wrapped around Ferretti's before Lou could react.
Lou grunted in surprise at the throttling grip around his neck. His body jerked about spasmodically as he struggled to free his legs.
Jack sighted his weapon, but sighed in frustration as he was unable to get a clear shot. He was forced to watch helplessly as Lou's arms flailed about, unable to get any leverage.
Before Jack could run over and help him, Lou slumped, unconscious. Adams grabbed the item that Ferretti had been trying to remove. Jack couldn't quite see what it was.
"Stop, " Jack yelled, "or I'll shoot. And I'll make sure it's permanent this time."
Time slowed as Adams stood up carefully, dragging Lou with him, a hand firmly wrapped around Ferretti's neck. Adams released Ferretti abruptly, letting him slide to the ground. Jack barely saw the sudden blur of movement as a leg kicked out viciously. He did see the SF who had been creeping up from behind Adams fold to the floor with a thud. But before he could take advantage of the moment, Adams yanked Ferretti back up in front of him, as a shield.
"If you kill me, Ferretti will die as well, " Adams sneered. As he spoke, a flash of light shot out from his hands, and the object made a loud pinging noise.
Jack seized the momentary distraction, and took the shot.
Blood spurted from Adams' shoulder, and he gasped in pain. He released Ferretti , leaving him to crash back to the floor, still unconscious. The object tumbled out of Adams' hands, onto the concrete floor, still beeping.
"Damn," Jack said in dismay. It was the Asgard communication device that they kept in the arsenal near Sam's lab that Adams had been playing with, and he'd just set off the emergency alarm. Sooner or later, Thor would swoop in, and on past performance, beam him up to his ship without warning. Just what Jack needed to make his day.
Adams took in the look on Jack's face, and slowly lifted his arms into the air in surrender. He then moved his left hand across to clutch his bleeding shoulder. "I give up," he said.
*********
Joe Dawson rolled over onto his side, and glared at the green glow of the clock radio. He sighed to himself: this hour of the 'morning' was not his idea of a time to be awake. He listened intently for a moment, but the only sounds in the apartment were the hiss of the air-conditioning, and the normal creaks and groans of the building. It wasn't Methos returning home that had woken him, then.
The room was still shrouded in darkness, so Joe tried to relax his mind and get back to sleep. Unfortunately, he felt wide awake.
Restless, Joe reached down to rub the stiff stumps of his legs, then rolled over again to shift onto his back. He lay there for a while, pondering the clues the enigmatic old immortal had thrown him the night before. Playing Methos' Dad could be fun. But he wanted to know just what his 'son' was up to first. Resolution gripped him - it was time to take a little look at the computer belonging to a certain Really Old Guy. He levered himself out of the bed and into the waiting wheelchair.
He turned on the lights, then started maneuvering his way around the books and cartoons still strewn across the floor of the main living area. It didn't take long before he was sitting at Methos' computer, a cup of coffee steaming next to him as he switched on the system. Joe looked idly out the one- way floor-to-roof window onto the still-dark street below, and thought again about the contradictions that made up his friend.
The apartment was chromium-new in style, with white walls, wooden floors, and cream colored furniture. In the kitchen area, metallic appliances gleamed above the black granite breakfast-bar. Only the beer bottles left over from the previous night undermined its pristine clarity.
The starkness of the color scheme, though, was offset by the splashes of color on the canvasses stacked ready to adorn the walls, the scattered artifacts, and the still half-empty bookcases that blocked off two long walls of the open-plan living area.
And Methos hadn't neglected his physical security either. Apart from the panoramic view of the street below, the apartment had three exits that Joe had been able to find so far. Joe wondered if the windows were bulletproof. Probably.
All the same, Methos' specifications hadn't all been self-serving. Joe had been touched by the effort that had been made to make the place wheelchair-friendly, even down to his own specially adapted bathroom.
It was the computer, though, that was the real irony. The oldest man in the world was also the world's greatest techno-geek. The computer positively bristled with every new toy available. It had all the latest security features too: the system was built around a docking station for his laptop, giving him a removable hard-drive.
Joe carefully entered the password Methos had provided, and placed his finger on the scanner-pad to be read. Damn if the computer didn't then demand the answers to some rather personal questions. Joe shook his head and answered reluctantly. He hadn't even known Methos knew all that stuff about him.
Once in, dozens of programs jostled for his attention. He went into the directory to see what was there. It was, as Joe had expected, logically laid out and clearly labeled. Joe could see folders such as journal, personal papers, translations, and astrophysics.
The biggest folder contained what appeared to be another of Methos' infamous databases. Joe sighed. Didn't Methos ever learn? His last database - on immortals and their Watchers - had caused havoc when it had nearly been made public.
Joe clicked on the X-Files folder to see what was there. The database had sub-directories for the US military, Cheyenne Mountain, UFOs, Roswell grays, and more. A quick perusal of the latter two sections showed that Methos had apparently caught the alien conspiracy bug.
Joe decided to leave the database for a moment and try opening the journal first, as a short cut. He quickly found that it was password protected - and not by the password Methos had given him either.
The familiar theme tune of Mission Impossible started playing through the state of the art sound system. A warning message popped up. "You have attempted to access a protected file. This file will self-destruct in thirty seconds unless you enter the correct password or press escape now...Joe, if that's you, no cheating!" Joe hurriedly pressed the escape key and backed out.
*********
Jack sagged against the wall as the last of the medical teams and guards exited the corridor.
"All clear, Sir," Ferretti reported. Jack watched Ferretti rub his neck gently, wincing when it apparently set off a twinge of pain. "No sign of anything in the archive room, and no other casualties found on this level," he said.
"Thank you, Lou," Jack acknowledged. "You had better get down to the infirmary and get yourself checked out. You need a break anyway, you look ready to drop."
"With all due respect, Sir, so do you. And you were injured and in the infirmary before this whole thing started." Ferretti moved closer. "I can keep going a while longer if you want to take a rest, Jack," he said in a softer voice.
"Yeah well, this time I wasn't the one who was nearly strangled. Besides, Adams or whoever he is managed to activate an Asgard communications device. So I'm waiting around for Thor - or maybe Loki - to do his beam me up thingy. No way am I going to be sleeping or something when that happens."
Jack glared down at the floor to hide his discomfort at the thought of the Asgard's transporter device. Just why HAD Adams triggered it?
Was it an accident? Was he just trying to cause confusion? Or could he be working with Loki, or perhaps some other renegade Asgard?
The thought that Loki might be lurking up there in the mysterious object in orbit was almost worse than the notion that it was concealing an alien invasion force. He pulled his hands behind his back so Lou couldn't see that they were trembling. He wouldn't come out sane if he had to undergo another torture session masquerading as a genetics experiment - with him as lab rat.
Things were pretty bad, he reflected, when he actually hoped that, communications device notwithstanding, Adams proved to be a Goa'uld, or at least working for them.
"Anyway," he said. "I want to have a crack at interrogating Adams before I call it a day. We have to know if he's working with whoever it is that is playing around in our sky. I heard from the General just before we came up here - the mystery object seems to be on the move again, and its up to its old tricks of destroying anything that gets in its way."
"Well at least come and grab something to eat while the Doc does her thing," Ferretti replied.
"Only if you go down to the infirmary and get yourself checked out, "Jack replied.
"Deal," Ferretti responded.
**********
Joe leaned back and stretched his arms above his head until he could feel his joints creaking. He could feel the tension in his body from sitting still for too long, so he decided to get something to eat before he launched into Methos' database. Reveling in the chance to stay off his artificial limbs for the moment, he rolled his chair into Methos' kitchen and fixed himself more coffee. He found some bread and toasted it, added some jam, and took his breakfast back to the study.
He moved to the 'X-Files' folder on Methos' computer. The US military section proved to be a record of strange events surrounding any and all US military bases. Many had zero entries, or only one or two, most of which appeared to have been quickly discounted. Joe could see from the date of the entries that Methos had originally started with all bases in scope, but had gradually lost interest in all but a few sites - including Cheyenne Mountain and something called Area 52 - which had reasonably extensive listings.
It was fascinating to see Methos' meticulous research skills at work. As Joe dug further, he realized he was reading the research that had led to Methos' current job. Methos had, for some reason, been hunting for the center of activity associated with some UFOs, one of which he had noted himself as the observer. And he had found that center here, in Colorado Springs.
He looked at the most recent entry for Cheyenne Mountain - it was about sightings of 'alien bugs'. The media had reported it as the side-effect of a chemical spill. Methos, though, had noted that the military, rather than the civilian authorities, had put the whole town into quarantine. Moreover, he had managed to obtain and test a pill that had been given out to those affected. It had proved to be a simple placebo, nothing more than sugar.
Joe looked back further. There were several instances of the Mountain being sealed and troops being brought in. Other entries were much weirder: repeated influxes of large groups of oddly dressed refugees speaking languages no-one knew and requiring urgent medical treatment; claims that time had run slower around the Mountain for a few days; and reports of mysterious people dressed like something out of the 60s version of Lost in Space, who could walk through walls.
It was an impressive catalogue - and each of the entries had extensive links. It must have taken Methos months to put together. All the same, the content was like something out of the worst tabloids, notwithstanding the careful documentation and analysis. If it had been anyone other than Methos, Joe would have been inclined to dismiss it as paranoid sci-fi rubbish, or perhaps the rabid jottings of a manic fanfic author.
Reading between the lines though, it was evident that Methos had been torn between two paradigms: was a case of MiB rule, with the good guys protecting the Earth and hiding the truth from an unsuspecting public? Or was it an X-Files style evil alien invasion by stealth?
Joe stared out through the window, sightless, absorbed in thought. His mind was still reeling in disbelief. He was dying to quiz Methos. Not that he could count on getting any more out of him in person than he had already, if past experience was anything to go by. He grinned to himself as he remembered some past attempts to extract information from the slippery immortal. Had he really shared a stage with both Julius Caesar and the Rolling Stones? Truth or lies, life was never dull with Methos around.
But the thing that really aroused his Watcher instincts was that Methos claimed that at least five immortals actually weren't. According to Methos' records, they were ordinary humans infested by an alien parasite that gave them abnormally long lives, coupled with the ability to take over a new body when the old one wore out, or got too old.
He had to admit that there was nothing in the Watcher files to disprove Methos' claims - and with few exceptions, the purported immortals numbered among the less pleasant, more dangerous of those the Watchers had been observing for centuries. It was really no more incredible than the existence of immortals in the first place, he supposed.
It was pretty clear from reading the files that although he hadn't been absolutely sure, Methos had originally assumed that the military were aware of the threat, and were secretly trying to deal with it. The files suggested that Methos had been covertly helping them, planting clues to the whereabouts and nature of the pseudo-immortals on the Internet. He'd even published a physics paper that Joe didn't even pretend to understand, but which seemed to be aimed at helping their operations - and giving Methos an entry to their team.
But the last few entries to the database painted a different picture. Since starting work at Cheyenne Mountain, Methos had begun to fear that his other scenario was closer to the truth. He had started to think that the covert ops team fighting the aliens had been subverted, the military infiltrated as a prelude to the invasion of Earth. And as ever with Methos, he had activated multi-layered plans to counter the menace he perceived.
Joe remembered with a start that Methos had actually asked him to look into a Dr Daniel Jackson's background. He wondered what the connection was. Maybe if he could find something, it would give him an excuse to call Methos, and see if he could find out more about what was going on.
He checked Methos' database first. The man did feature as a proponent of some - he hesitated, now, to call it loony - theory that aliens had built the pyramids, but it was just a passing reference. Joe opened the Internet browser, and did a google.
The first few hits were clearly not his guy, unless he'd switched his academic fields from archeologist to computer scientist or chemist. He tried narrowing the search by adding in archeology as a key word, and bingo - the pyramid articles appeared. He scanned down the results, and decided to try the alien conspiracy website that came up fourth in the list.
As the site opened, Joe sat back in his chair, a smile creeping onto his face despite himself. You had to just love the Internet. It seemed that Dr Jackson had a fan. Admittedly, a slightly twisted one.
The website gave a complete bio of one Dr Daniel Jackson. It seemed archeology was the family profession, as both his father and grandfather were also listed as archeologists. Daniel himself had Ph.Ds in archeology from the University of Chicago, anthropology from UCLA, and linguistics from Paris.
Unlike a certain laggard Immortal, Daniel had actually completed his degrees quickly, and returned to Columbia to teach. After only a short time though, his publication record abruptly ceased, as did his employment record. The next entry was a death notice, issued in Colorado Springs, Colorado. It gave a whole new meaning to the 'publish or perish' imperative of academia.
Except it seemed that Daniel hadn't been dead. He was now, at least according to the website, living in Colorado Springs, working for the military. It was at this point that the website went feral: Daniel's return was attributed to him being mixed up in a complicated alien conspiracy, centered on a shadowy military project based in Cheyenne Mountain.
Joe looked again at the dates on his academic record. No wonder Methos had been interested - unless he was much mistaken, Daniel Jackson had done his linguistics work at the same time and place as one Adam Pierson. Joe wondered if Methos' cover had been blown.
Joe emailed off a request for a proper search on the guy to Watcher HQ, then decided to call Methos to let him know what he had found out so far. When he dialed the cell though, all he got was the message bank. Joe started talking into the phone, quickly summarizing what he had found so far. He hoped Methos would get the message, and find it useful. He then settled back down to read more of Methos' database. Before he glanced down at the keyboard once more, he noticed that the sky outside was finally starting to lighten.
***************
Jack stared down at the subject through the glass of the observation room. He looked too normal to cause so much trouble. The momentary defiance after the corridor fight had disappeared. 'Adams' now looked supremely unconcerned, almost relaxed, despite the restraints on his wrists and ankles, and the half dozen or so heavily armed SFs surrounding him.
"There's no sign of a Goa'uld, Sir," Janet reported to him, also watching the scene below them. "We eventually got the MRI to work on him, and it shows human physiology, no parasites included. No nanobytes either. I've run every test I can think of, plus a few Selmak suggested, and can't find any evidence that he's under alien influence."
"What about his wounds, how serious are they?" Jack asked.
"He doesn't have any," she replied. "Not even a scratch. And no after effects of the zat either."
Jack turned back from the window to look at her directly. "But I zatted him twice, and shot him in the shoulder, " he said. "I saw the blood."
Janet waved in the direction of the isolation room below. "Well there's a bit of dried blood there - but no sign of a wound. Are you absolutely sure, Sir?" She leaned back against the wall, rubbing her head tiredly.
"Totally," he replied. "I was at point blank range."
Jack waited for Janet to proffer an explanation as to how Adams could have survived untouched. The silence between them stretched on. Clearly uncomfortable, she turned back to stare at Adams in the room below. She jumped slightly when he reached over to touch her shoulder.
"So, Janet, any explanations spring to mind? Could he be the product of Asgard experiments? Or another of Nirrti's attempts to create the perfect host?"
He saw her shudder. They all had their own nightmares. Jack's might be Loki's mad-scientist routine as he attempted to solve the Asgard's reproduction problems. But Janet's was Nirrti, the Goa'uld who had destroyed her adopted daughter's people, and nearly killed Cassandra twice with her genetically implanted time-bombs.
"It'll be a few more hours before I received the results of his DNA test, but there are a few anomalies in his other test results. Nothing, mind you, that would explain disappearing wounds and miraculous recoveries."
She turned back to lean against the glass separating them from the isolation room they were housing him in. He waited as she reapplied her professional mask.
"What sort of anomalies?" he inquired.
"We had a lot of trouble getting the MRI to work on him. You'd need to quiz Selmak to get the details, Sir, but as far as I could follow, he's giving off quite high energy readings. Not radiation or anything, just a super-active aura."
"So, like glowing red instead of green or yellow? I didn't realize auras were a medically accepted diagnostic device, Doctor, " Jack said dryly.
Dr Fraiser stood up straighter. "Well no, Sir, but we do all emit a mild electro-magnetic charge. Seems his is a bit stronger than normal. And that's not his only oddity," she said.
He nodded at her to continue.
"His brain scan shows that he's using much more of his brain than is normal. In fact, it's a lot like yours looked after you downloaded the Ancients' database."
Jack could see that she was watching him carefully for a reaction. "Except that he hasn't lost the ability to communicate or anything, " Jack replied evenly. "Although I suppose that could account for his scientific knowledge. But how could he have gotten access to one of the Ancients' databases?"
Jack suppressed a shudder as he remembered his knowledge of English being slowly stripped away, his brain being overwritten by alien thoughts. When the Ancients' device had grabbed his head, and dumped the contents of their database into his brain, he had slowly gone mad under its influence. First he had lost the ability to speak anything but the Latin-hybrid that was the tongue of the Ancients, the mysterious missing fifth race of the old alliance against the Goa'uld. But he had also developed a knowledge of the Gate-creators' technologies, sufficient to save a team trapped on a world with a non-functioning Dial-Home-Device.
Finally, faced with no other way to save himself, he had built a booster to provide sufficient power to allow the gate to transport him clear across to another galaxy entirely, to the home-world of the Asgard. The Asgard had been able to cure, then return him, to the SGC. It had been the real start of their alliance with the little gray aliens.
"I said a lot like, Sir, but not identical, " Janet replied. "The locations of his brain that are more active aren't the same as your ones."
"But he is human?" Jack asked, still facing her.
"Yes, as far as I can tell, " Janet replied. "Until the DNA test comes back I can't be absolutely certain. Still, he fits the range of variation we have found on other planets."
Jack turned back to look at the scene below him. "So you're saying human, but not from Earth?" Jack probed.
"I really can't say, Sir. In most ways he tests out absolutely Earth normal."
Jack looked more intensely at the puzzle in front of him. The medical tests just seemed to be deepening the mystery of Adams' background, rather than providing any clues.
"So, any enlightenment from Adams himself?" Jack queried.
"No, Sir. He has co-operated, but he hasn't opened his mouth since he's been here. Just does as he's told and looks mournfully at you. It's spooking the nurses. Well that and that gaggle of SFs that you've insisted stay with him." She waved at the scene below them.
"Well then, I guess we had better get the SFs out of your way, and try more direct tactics. If you've finished for the moment Doctor, I'll have him escorted to a holding cell."
**********
Please, do review - I love hearing your suggestions, comments and critiques. Or even just if you are still enjoying.
First an apology - despite all your enthusiastic support, it has taken me a while to update. I've had more than a few diversions to cope with in RL over the last few weeks, some positive, others rather less so. Your reviews did however spur me to get back to it, so here it finally is. Hopefully I should get a reasonable amount of writing time over the next few weeks - but please do keep up your prods!
And now for the thank yous. Thank you first of all to the fabulous Jezowen and Village Mystic. They are making this story much, much better than it otherwise would be, as well as far more fun to write. They put up with at least seven attempts at bits of this chapter, and still managed to keep track of the ever changing plot development order!
Secondly, a big thanks to all of those reading this, especially those who have reviewed. I've been amazed at the number of hits this story has received. And I was totally overwhelmed by the reviews for chapter 16, it was a fantastic response, thank you so much.
I really treasure all of the feedback you send. I'm pretty sure I couldn't keep writing if it wasn't for the level of interaction my betas and your reviews provide. I really appreciate the concrete suggestions and reactions. For the Danielites, (SallyK, Moonbeam) a little taster in this chapter, more on the way very soon (along with more of the rest of the team)! Kyra, hopefully things are continuing to come a bit clearer, although don't think its all over yet!
Thanks too, though, to those who just said more please (and from Myst...moremoremore) - you really do push me to get back down to it. Of course, I'm sure it was the threat of the headhunting zombie pygmies coming to my house that finally did the trick!
One other note - Moonbeam, your review of the revised chapter 7 is on the mark - there are some hints dropped there that will become important to the story later (although for those who don't want to reread, don't worry, I'll recapitulate enough for you to follow).
Thanks again and bear with me,
Magda
***************
CHAPTER 17: CAPTURE
Jack stared, transfixed, as the body in front of him convulsed and then drew a massive, racking breath. Adams' eyes flickered open momentarily, then slid shut again. Jack noted that Adams' chest had started to rise and fall again, but there was no sign that he was conscious.
What was this, he thought, Terminator? Would nothing kill him? Adams had been dead, he was convinced. No-one - or at least no-one purely human - could survive two zat blasts.
Jack pulled out his P90, and hoped it would work. "Hey Ferretti," he called. "Come and give me a hand, he's still alive."
Troops started pouring into the corridor. He waved them across to help with the injured and secure the area, even as he continued to watch the body tensely. Adams didn't move.
"Sergeant Gardner, check on the others, would you, " he said to one of the newcomers, and pointing in the direction of the downed SFs. "Lou, you search Adams. I'll cover you." He gestured to one of arriving troops to come over and help.
Jack took stock of the situation. Adams had managed to take out three well trained SFs in seconds. Although Elder was at least awake, Bollard and Surma were still out of it, sprawled unconscious in the corridor in front of him in the wake of their attempt to capture Adams.
Jack wondered why Adams hadn't killed them. Why had he used a zat rather than anything more permanent? If Adams survived, they really needed to interrogate him.
"Bollard and Elder are fine, Sir," Gardner interjected. Jack spared a glance to see that Sgt Bollard was starting to wake up. Gardner had moved over to Surma. As he did so, the medical team appeared in the corridor. Jack gestured at them to stay out of his line of fire. Gingerly, they moved around him, and prepared to move the injured airmen to the infirmary.
Jack watched for any reaction as Ferretti carefully patted Adams down. There was none. Lou gingerly handed off the zat, then removed a gun strapped to an ankle. As his hands reached Adams' arms, he stopped to remove stilettos from each of his wrists, before carefully unzipping Adams' vest.
Jack grimaced as the contents of the level 19 armory started appearing in front of him. Why did they let SG-3 have toys like this anyway?
Lou started warily pulling weapons and ammunition from the vest's pockets. After several spare rounds came first another Goa'uld sonic grenade, another handgun, two conventional grenades, some C4 and a smoke bomb. Each item was handed over to Gardner who in turn was handing them off for storage at a safe distance.
Jack was still watching Lou pass across more items from the small arsenal when suddenly Adams' hand reached up and pulled Lou down on top of him. Adams' legs snaked up and wrapped around Ferretti's before Lou could react.
Lou grunted in surprise at the throttling grip around his neck. His body jerked about spasmodically as he struggled to free his legs.
Jack sighted his weapon, but sighed in frustration as he was unable to get a clear shot. He was forced to watch helplessly as Lou's arms flailed about, unable to get any leverage.
Before Jack could run over and help him, Lou slumped, unconscious. Adams grabbed the item that Ferretti had been trying to remove. Jack couldn't quite see what it was.
"Stop, " Jack yelled, "or I'll shoot. And I'll make sure it's permanent this time."
Time slowed as Adams stood up carefully, dragging Lou with him, a hand firmly wrapped around Ferretti's neck. Adams released Ferretti abruptly, letting him slide to the ground. Jack barely saw the sudden blur of movement as a leg kicked out viciously. He did see the SF who had been creeping up from behind Adams fold to the floor with a thud. But before he could take advantage of the moment, Adams yanked Ferretti back up in front of him, as a shield.
"If you kill me, Ferretti will die as well, " Adams sneered. As he spoke, a flash of light shot out from his hands, and the object made a loud pinging noise.
Jack seized the momentary distraction, and took the shot.
Blood spurted from Adams' shoulder, and he gasped in pain. He released Ferretti , leaving him to crash back to the floor, still unconscious. The object tumbled out of Adams' hands, onto the concrete floor, still beeping.
"Damn," Jack said in dismay. It was the Asgard communication device that they kept in the arsenal near Sam's lab that Adams had been playing with, and he'd just set off the emergency alarm. Sooner or later, Thor would swoop in, and on past performance, beam him up to his ship without warning. Just what Jack needed to make his day.
Adams took in the look on Jack's face, and slowly lifted his arms into the air in surrender. He then moved his left hand across to clutch his bleeding shoulder. "I give up," he said.
*********
Joe Dawson rolled over onto his side, and glared at the green glow of the clock radio. He sighed to himself: this hour of the 'morning' was not his idea of a time to be awake. He listened intently for a moment, but the only sounds in the apartment were the hiss of the air-conditioning, and the normal creaks and groans of the building. It wasn't Methos returning home that had woken him, then.
The room was still shrouded in darkness, so Joe tried to relax his mind and get back to sleep. Unfortunately, he felt wide awake.
Restless, Joe reached down to rub the stiff stumps of his legs, then rolled over again to shift onto his back. He lay there for a while, pondering the clues the enigmatic old immortal had thrown him the night before. Playing Methos' Dad could be fun. But he wanted to know just what his 'son' was up to first. Resolution gripped him - it was time to take a little look at the computer belonging to a certain Really Old Guy. He levered himself out of the bed and into the waiting wheelchair.
He turned on the lights, then started maneuvering his way around the books and cartoons still strewn across the floor of the main living area. It didn't take long before he was sitting at Methos' computer, a cup of coffee steaming next to him as he switched on the system. Joe looked idly out the one- way floor-to-roof window onto the still-dark street below, and thought again about the contradictions that made up his friend.
The apartment was chromium-new in style, with white walls, wooden floors, and cream colored furniture. In the kitchen area, metallic appliances gleamed above the black granite breakfast-bar. Only the beer bottles left over from the previous night undermined its pristine clarity.
The starkness of the color scheme, though, was offset by the splashes of color on the canvasses stacked ready to adorn the walls, the scattered artifacts, and the still half-empty bookcases that blocked off two long walls of the open-plan living area.
And Methos hadn't neglected his physical security either. Apart from the panoramic view of the street below, the apartment had three exits that Joe had been able to find so far. Joe wondered if the windows were bulletproof. Probably.
All the same, Methos' specifications hadn't all been self-serving. Joe had been touched by the effort that had been made to make the place wheelchair-friendly, even down to his own specially adapted bathroom.
It was the computer, though, that was the real irony. The oldest man in the world was also the world's greatest techno-geek. The computer positively bristled with every new toy available. It had all the latest security features too: the system was built around a docking station for his laptop, giving him a removable hard-drive.
Joe carefully entered the password Methos had provided, and placed his finger on the scanner-pad to be read. Damn if the computer didn't then demand the answers to some rather personal questions. Joe shook his head and answered reluctantly. He hadn't even known Methos knew all that stuff about him.
Once in, dozens of programs jostled for his attention. He went into the directory to see what was there. It was, as Joe had expected, logically laid out and clearly labeled. Joe could see folders such as journal, personal papers, translations, and astrophysics.
The biggest folder contained what appeared to be another of Methos' infamous databases. Joe sighed. Didn't Methos ever learn? His last database - on immortals and their Watchers - had caused havoc when it had nearly been made public.
Joe clicked on the X-Files folder to see what was there. The database had sub-directories for the US military, Cheyenne Mountain, UFOs, Roswell grays, and more. A quick perusal of the latter two sections showed that Methos had apparently caught the alien conspiracy bug.
Joe decided to leave the database for a moment and try opening the journal first, as a short cut. He quickly found that it was password protected - and not by the password Methos had given him either.
The familiar theme tune of Mission Impossible started playing through the state of the art sound system. A warning message popped up. "You have attempted to access a protected file. This file will self-destruct in thirty seconds unless you enter the correct password or press escape now...Joe, if that's you, no cheating!" Joe hurriedly pressed the escape key and backed out.
*********
Jack sagged against the wall as the last of the medical teams and guards exited the corridor.
"All clear, Sir," Ferretti reported. Jack watched Ferretti rub his neck gently, wincing when it apparently set off a twinge of pain. "No sign of anything in the archive room, and no other casualties found on this level," he said.
"Thank you, Lou," Jack acknowledged. "You had better get down to the infirmary and get yourself checked out. You need a break anyway, you look ready to drop."
"With all due respect, Sir, so do you. And you were injured and in the infirmary before this whole thing started." Ferretti moved closer. "I can keep going a while longer if you want to take a rest, Jack," he said in a softer voice.
"Yeah well, this time I wasn't the one who was nearly strangled. Besides, Adams or whoever he is managed to activate an Asgard communications device. So I'm waiting around for Thor - or maybe Loki - to do his beam me up thingy. No way am I going to be sleeping or something when that happens."
Jack glared down at the floor to hide his discomfort at the thought of the Asgard's transporter device. Just why HAD Adams triggered it?
Was it an accident? Was he just trying to cause confusion? Or could he be working with Loki, or perhaps some other renegade Asgard?
The thought that Loki might be lurking up there in the mysterious object in orbit was almost worse than the notion that it was concealing an alien invasion force. He pulled his hands behind his back so Lou couldn't see that they were trembling. He wouldn't come out sane if he had to undergo another torture session masquerading as a genetics experiment - with him as lab rat.
Things were pretty bad, he reflected, when he actually hoped that, communications device notwithstanding, Adams proved to be a Goa'uld, or at least working for them.
"Anyway," he said. "I want to have a crack at interrogating Adams before I call it a day. We have to know if he's working with whoever it is that is playing around in our sky. I heard from the General just before we came up here - the mystery object seems to be on the move again, and its up to its old tricks of destroying anything that gets in its way."
"Well at least come and grab something to eat while the Doc does her thing," Ferretti replied.
"Only if you go down to the infirmary and get yourself checked out, "Jack replied.
"Deal," Ferretti responded.
**********
Joe leaned back and stretched his arms above his head until he could feel his joints creaking. He could feel the tension in his body from sitting still for too long, so he decided to get something to eat before he launched into Methos' database. Reveling in the chance to stay off his artificial limbs for the moment, he rolled his chair into Methos' kitchen and fixed himself more coffee. He found some bread and toasted it, added some jam, and took his breakfast back to the study.
He moved to the 'X-Files' folder on Methos' computer. The US military section proved to be a record of strange events surrounding any and all US military bases. Many had zero entries, or only one or two, most of which appeared to have been quickly discounted. Joe could see from the date of the entries that Methos had originally started with all bases in scope, but had gradually lost interest in all but a few sites - including Cheyenne Mountain and something called Area 52 - which had reasonably extensive listings.
It was fascinating to see Methos' meticulous research skills at work. As Joe dug further, he realized he was reading the research that had led to Methos' current job. Methos had, for some reason, been hunting for the center of activity associated with some UFOs, one of which he had noted himself as the observer. And he had found that center here, in Colorado Springs.
He looked at the most recent entry for Cheyenne Mountain - it was about sightings of 'alien bugs'. The media had reported it as the side-effect of a chemical spill. Methos, though, had noted that the military, rather than the civilian authorities, had put the whole town into quarantine. Moreover, he had managed to obtain and test a pill that had been given out to those affected. It had proved to be a simple placebo, nothing more than sugar.
Joe looked back further. There were several instances of the Mountain being sealed and troops being brought in. Other entries were much weirder: repeated influxes of large groups of oddly dressed refugees speaking languages no-one knew and requiring urgent medical treatment; claims that time had run slower around the Mountain for a few days; and reports of mysterious people dressed like something out of the 60s version of Lost in Space, who could walk through walls.
It was an impressive catalogue - and each of the entries had extensive links. It must have taken Methos months to put together. All the same, the content was like something out of the worst tabloids, notwithstanding the careful documentation and analysis. If it had been anyone other than Methos, Joe would have been inclined to dismiss it as paranoid sci-fi rubbish, or perhaps the rabid jottings of a manic fanfic author.
Reading between the lines though, it was evident that Methos had been torn between two paradigms: was a case of MiB rule, with the good guys protecting the Earth and hiding the truth from an unsuspecting public? Or was it an X-Files style evil alien invasion by stealth?
Joe stared out through the window, sightless, absorbed in thought. His mind was still reeling in disbelief. He was dying to quiz Methos. Not that he could count on getting any more out of him in person than he had already, if past experience was anything to go by. He grinned to himself as he remembered some past attempts to extract information from the slippery immortal. Had he really shared a stage with both Julius Caesar and the Rolling Stones? Truth or lies, life was never dull with Methos around.
But the thing that really aroused his Watcher instincts was that Methos claimed that at least five immortals actually weren't. According to Methos' records, they were ordinary humans infested by an alien parasite that gave them abnormally long lives, coupled with the ability to take over a new body when the old one wore out, or got too old.
He had to admit that there was nothing in the Watcher files to disprove Methos' claims - and with few exceptions, the purported immortals numbered among the less pleasant, more dangerous of those the Watchers had been observing for centuries. It was really no more incredible than the existence of immortals in the first place, he supposed.
It was pretty clear from reading the files that although he hadn't been absolutely sure, Methos had originally assumed that the military were aware of the threat, and were secretly trying to deal with it. The files suggested that Methos had been covertly helping them, planting clues to the whereabouts and nature of the pseudo-immortals on the Internet. He'd even published a physics paper that Joe didn't even pretend to understand, but which seemed to be aimed at helping their operations - and giving Methos an entry to their team.
But the last few entries to the database painted a different picture. Since starting work at Cheyenne Mountain, Methos had begun to fear that his other scenario was closer to the truth. He had started to think that the covert ops team fighting the aliens had been subverted, the military infiltrated as a prelude to the invasion of Earth. And as ever with Methos, he had activated multi-layered plans to counter the menace he perceived.
Joe remembered with a start that Methos had actually asked him to look into a Dr Daniel Jackson's background. He wondered what the connection was. Maybe if he could find something, it would give him an excuse to call Methos, and see if he could find out more about what was going on.
He checked Methos' database first. The man did feature as a proponent of some - he hesitated, now, to call it loony - theory that aliens had built the pyramids, but it was just a passing reference. Joe opened the Internet browser, and did a google.
The first few hits were clearly not his guy, unless he'd switched his academic fields from archeologist to computer scientist or chemist. He tried narrowing the search by adding in archeology as a key word, and bingo - the pyramid articles appeared. He scanned down the results, and decided to try the alien conspiracy website that came up fourth in the list.
As the site opened, Joe sat back in his chair, a smile creeping onto his face despite himself. You had to just love the Internet. It seemed that Dr Jackson had a fan. Admittedly, a slightly twisted one.
The website gave a complete bio of one Dr Daniel Jackson. It seemed archeology was the family profession, as both his father and grandfather were also listed as archeologists. Daniel himself had Ph.Ds in archeology from the University of Chicago, anthropology from UCLA, and linguistics from Paris.
Unlike a certain laggard Immortal, Daniel had actually completed his degrees quickly, and returned to Columbia to teach. After only a short time though, his publication record abruptly ceased, as did his employment record. The next entry was a death notice, issued in Colorado Springs, Colorado. It gave a whole new meaning to the 'publish or perish' imperative of academia.
Except it seemed that Daniel hadn't been dead. He was now, at least according to the website, living in Colorado Springs, working for the military. It was at this point that the website went feral: Daniel's return was attributed to him being mixed up in a complicated alien conspiracy, centered on a shadowy military project based in Cheyenne Mountain.
Joe looked again at the dates on his academic record. No wonder Methos had been interested - unless he was much mistaken, Daniel Jackson had done his linguistics work at the same time and place as one Adam Pierson. Joe wondered if Methos' cover had been blown.
Joe emailed off a request for a proper search on the guy to Watcher HQ, then decided to call Methos to let him know what he had found out so far. When he dialed the cell though, all he got was the message bank. Joe started talking into the phone, quickly summarizing what he had found so far. He hoped Methos would get the message, and find it useful. He then settled back down to read more of Methos' database. Before he glanced down at the keyboard once more, he noticed that the sky outside was finally starting to lighten.
***************
Jack stared down at the subject through the glass of the observation room. He looked too normal to cause so much trouble. The momentary defiance after the corridor fight had disappeared. 'Adams' now looked supremely unconcerned, almost relaxed, despite the restraints on his wrists and ankles, and the half dozen or so heavily armed SFs surrounding him.
"There's no sign of a Goa'uld, Sir," Janet reported to him, also watching the scene below them. "We eventually got the MRI to work on him, and it shows human physiology, no parasites included. No nanobytes either. I've run every test I can think of, plus a few Selmak suggested, and can't find any evidence that he's under alien influence."
"What about his wounds, how serious are they?" Jack asked.
"He doesn't have any," she replied. "Not even a scratch. And no after effects of the zat either."
Jack turned back from the window to look at her directly. "But I zatted him twice, and shot him in the shoulder, " he said. "I saw the blood."
Janet waved in the direction of the isolation room below. "Well there's a bit of dried blood there - but no sign of a wound. Are you absolutely sure, Sir?" She leaned back against the wall, rubbing her head tiredly.
"Totally," he replied. "I was at point blank range."
Jack waited for Janet to proffer an explanation as to how Adams could have survived untouched. The silence between them stretched on. Clearly uncomfortable, she turned back to stare at Adams in the room below. She jumped slightly when he reached over to touch her shoulder.
"So, Janet, any explanations spring to mind? Could he be the product of Asgard experiments? Or another of Nirrti's attempts to create the perfect host?"
He saw her shudder. They all had their own nightmares. Jack's might be Loki's mad-scientist routine as he attempted to solve the Asgard's reproduction problems. But Janet's was Nirrti, the Goa'uld who had destroyed her adopted daughter's people, and nearly killed Cassandra twice with her genetically implanted time-bombs.
"It'll be a few more hours before I received the results of his DNA test, but there are a few anomalies in his other test results. Nothing, mind you, that would explain disappearing wounds and miraculous recoveries."
She turned back to lean against the glass separating them from the isolation room they were housing him in. He waited as she reapplied her professional mask.
"What sort of anomalies?" he inquired.
"We had a lot of trouble getting the MRI to work on him. You'd need to quiz Selmak to get the details, Sir, but as far as I could follow, he's giving off quite high energy readings. Not radiation or anything, just a super-active aura."
"So, like glowing red instead of green or yellow? I didn't realize auras were a medically accepted diagnostic device, Doctor, " Jack said dryly.
Dr Fraiser stood up straighter. "Well no, Sir, but we do all emit a mild electro-magnetic charge. Seems his is a bit stronger than normal. And that's not his only oddity," she said.
He nodded at her to continue.
"His brain scan shows that he's using much more of his brain than is normal. In fact, it's a lot like yours looked after you downloaded the Ancients' database."
Jack could see that she was watching him carefully for a reaction. "Except that he hasn't lost the ability to communicate or anything, " Jack replied evenly. "Although I suppose that could account for his scientific knowledge. But how could he have gotten access to one of the Ancients' databases?"
Jack suppressed a shudder as he remembered his knowledge of English being slowly stripped away, his brain being overwritten by alien thoughts. When the Ancients' device had grabbed his head, and dumped the contents of their database into his brain, he had slowly gone mad under its influence. First he had lost the ability to speak anything but the Latin-hybrid that was the tongue of the Ancients, the mysterious missing fifth race of the old alliance against the Goa'uld. But he had also developed a knowledge of the Gate-creators' technologies, sufficient to save a team trapped on a world with a non-functioning Dial-Home-Device.
Finally, faced with no other way to save himself, he had built a booster to provide sufficient power to allow the gate to transport him clear across to another galaxy entirely, to the home-world of the Asgard. The Asgard had been able to cure, then return him, to the SGC. It had been the real start of their alliance with the little gray aliens.
"I said a lot like, Sir, but not identical, " Janet replied. "The locations of his brain that are more active aren't the same as your ones."
"But he is human?" Jack asked, still facing her.
"Yes, as far as I can tell, " Janet replied. "Until the DNA test comes back I can't be absolutely certain. Still, he fits the range of variation we have found on other planets."
Jack turned back to look at the scene below him. "So you're saying human, but not from Earth?" Jack probed.
"I really can't say, Sir. In most ways he tests out absolutely Earth normal."
Jack looked more intensely at the puzzle in front of him. The medical tests just seemed to be deepening the mystery of Adams' background, rather than providing any clues.
"So, any enlightenment from Adams himself?" Jack queried.
"No, Sir. He has co-operated, but he hasn't opened his mouth since he's been here. Just does as he's told and looks mournfully at you. It's spooking the nurses. Well that and that gaggle of SFs that you've insisted stay with him." She waved at the scene below them.
"Well then, I guess we had better get the SFs out of your way, and try more direct tactics. If you've finished for the moment Doctor, I'll have him escorted to a holding cell."
**********
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