Author's notes: Thanks you so much for all your wonderful reviews, I really appreciate them! Special thanks to Bronny - just loved your little blessing: 'May chocolate find you at the low times of day and smiles greet thee on the streets'!!!
The battle between Jack and Adam(s) is certainly coming, read on. And a few possible plot twists, possible visitors and more yet...
Thanks to the anonymous reviewer who queried the word google (gaggle?) in chapter 17, but on this occasion it was deliberate. My local newspaper's IT section claims that to google is a term in common use, and means to undertake an Internet search (using the search end Google). Really and truly. The Sydney Morning Herald said so!!
I thought I'd better get in early on this week's word - a palimpsest is a parchment or painting which has been written on twice or more, with the earlier writing erased to make room the later versions. Some manuscripts of enormous historical value have been recovered by removing the palimpsests...
Thanks once again to Village Mystic and Jezowen for the beta. Thanks also to Celeste for a timely intervention.
Page breaks hopefully restored, 7.8.04
CHAPTER 18 COMING BACK
Jack closed the file in front of him carefully, and glanced up again at the screen showing the cell. He gritted his teeth. Adams lay sprawled, face expressionless, on the bunk, arms stretched out behind his head. He looked very relaxed. So much for letting him stew for a while.
All the same, there was little point going in completely cold. He needed to consider his tactics. Jack looked around at the piles of goodies spread out on the floor around him, and tried to decide where to go next on his search for enlightenment. Adams' file had been picture perfect, and totally useless. And he was pretty sure from just glancing at the piles in front of him that there wasn't much there either.
Jack took another sip of his coffee, and debated whether to call General Hammond for a progress report. He decided against it - after all, the General was likely to make the progress report a two-way thing, and he had nothing yet to offer. Besides, he was sure the General would tell him the moment he had anything useful.
Daniel had already provided as many details as he could remember on the Adam Pierson identity. It would be a while, though, before they got anything back from Paris. And while Jack was hoping for more from the team searching Adams' apartment, if the sparseness of this little collection was anything to go by, his wishes might well go unfulfilled.
Of course, the team had first to actually get there - rounding up a search team with the necessary clearances at this hour of the morning, at a time when most of the SGC were in lock-down inside the Mountain was likely to be something of a challenge.
Jack looked back up again. He frowned as he watched Adams glance at his wrist-watch. He automatically looked at his own, and noted the time: 0630.
He reached for his radio, to get an update. "Jacob, has Sam found anything at all in the computer? Over."
The hiss of interference on the radio echoed in the near-empty room. "Nothing on the main computer, Jack. She's headed up to her lab now. Anything specific we should be looking for? Over."
Jack admired the enthusiasm in Jacob's voice - he had to admit that the Tok'ra symbiote certainly gave Jacob endurance well beyond human norms. His own voice, he knew, sounded as tired as he felt.
"Nope, just a hunch. He's still refusing to talk, and I have a bad feeling about it. You'd better get someone to go over everywhere Adams has been again just in case.
Sam tried to ignore the SF that her father had insisted accompany her until the base was declared secure, and sat down at her desk with a sigh of relief. It was like a robbery, she supposed. She felt as if Adams had violated her inner sanctum, invaded her privacy, even though she herself had invited him into the lab originally. Not to mention the risk that he had booby-trapped the computers in the lab.
Sam forced herself to look around the room. It all looked okay, at least at first glance, provided she ignored the mess in the corner. Her reactor still sat in its place on the lab bench-top, and a quick glance at the shelves showed nothing obviously missing.
The corner showed the most impact: a broken chair with bits of duct tape strewn about gave mute testimony to the reaction of the SF Adams had taken out. She quickly averted her gaze, and decided to start with the things where his touch was less obvious.
Her PC was an obvious priority, given that Adams had almost certainly triggered the computer virus from here. Warily, she turned it on. Somewhat to her surprise, the log-in screen appeared, just as normal, and the computer actually did work.
She waited for a few moments in case she had triggered some built-in trap. Nothing happened, though, so she quickly set about removing all traces of the infamous screensaver, and checked the hard drive. It was clear.
Sam tried to get up, but found herself sagging back in the chair instead, exhausted. Somewhere between the drama in the control room, and the system checks she had run, the adrenaline-burst had run out. She sat, staring at the screen, sucking in the normality of it all, and trying to forget how close they had all come to being destroyed.
"Is everything in order, Major Carter? " the SF said politely, causing Sam to jump. "Sorry, Major, I didn't mean to startle you, " he quickly added apologetically.
"That's okay, Mason, " she replied. "Not a problem. In any case, so far, so good. But it'll take me a while to be sure. Why don't you go and check the armory and the rest of this floor while I'm working?"
"But my orders were to stay with you, Ma'am, " he said.
"I'll be fine, " she said. "And Colonel O'Neill did specify that he wanted a recheck done of everywhere Adams had been." He still didn't move. "Jump to it, Airman. NOW."
"Yes, Ma'am, " Sgt Mason replied unhappily.
As Mason left the room, Sam managed to haul herself up. She walked over to the super-computer terminal tensely, and prepared to go through the same process of checks. But when she quickly but thoroughly screened the computer for hidden traps, once again she found absolutely nothing.
Letting out a sigh of relief, Sam pulled the satellite data back up onto the screen, and started checking to see whether the observation data for the two satellites knocked out of orbit was still intact. It was, she quickly realized, although she would bet on it having been thoroughly subverted. A pattern caught her attention, and she started trying to unlock it.
It wasn't long before she became oblivious to her surroundings, engrossed in the intriguing puzzle in front of her, all thoughts of the need to complete the search of the lab completely forgotten.
Next to her on the bench-top, though, the naquadah reactor turned bomb continued its count-down.
Jack was just about to start on the next pile of material when Sgt Lucan knocked, then entered the room.
"The contents of Lt Adams' locker from Space Control, Sir," Sgt Lucan said, waving a box in his hands.
"Ah, thank you Sergeant," Jack replied eagerly. "If you'd just put it down there." He pointed to an empty space on the floor. He watched as Lucan set it down, then reached over and up-ended the box to add its contents to the accumulating piles around him.
"Uh, stay, Sergeant, would you. I might need you to follow up on something for me."
"Yes, Sir," Lucan replied, talking up a parade rest position near the door.
Jack knelt down to take a look at the contents of Adams' locker, his knees creaking as he moved. He ignored them.
The wallet, he found, was completely devoid of personality - little more than a palimpsest of a person. It contained some cash, a driving license, military ID and a credit card, all in the name of Michael Adams. There had to be something more to the man, Jack thought, no-one, not even someone straight out of school, had that little clutter in their lives.
The other items looked equally enigmatic: a cell phone and a rock. Well, more accurately, a crystal. In fact, it looked suspiciously like an Asgard control crystal. Yet Jack was fairly certain it didn't match any of those normally stored on the base. It was an odd talisman to have. Was it Adams' version of a voodoo doll, a focus for thoughts of revenge or retribution?
"Sergeant, take the cell up somewhere where there's reception would you. Check out his last calls, his phone list, messages - anything that might give us a few more clues about the guy. And you'd better drop off the rock to Major Carter's lab for testing on your way," he said, handing over the last two items in the pile. "Oh, and better give her back the piece of equipment he stole from her lab at the same time, " he added, pointing to the Asgard device on the table.
As the Sergeant left the room, Jack moved to the next pile on the floor, and fanned out the files Adams had grabbed from the archives. They were equally puzzling. Some were mission files, others containing general background on the program, and lists of key contacts in DC. It was almost enough to rule out the NID at least - they already had all of this stuff.
Finally, Jack turned to the last pile - printouts of the responses to the emails he had fired off almost a day ago, courtesy of the General's office assistant. He picked them up, and sat back up at the desk, his legs on the table. He put them down again, and straightened up. Finally, something a bit more concrete.
Adams, it was clear, had never darkened the doors of MIT, at least under that name. His journal article, though, was real: the editor had responses that seemed as if they were from all three of the authors to comments from the journal's referees. Email made setting up fake identities so much easier, Jack reflected. Just why Adams had published the paper in the first place, though, was still a mystery.
Jack mentally ticked off what they knew about Adams. Firstly, he was older than he looked. Daniel had first known him almost twenty years ago as a less than motivated graduate student in linguistics. So whoever he was working for, presumably they had been around for a while.
Secondly, the most likely explanation for his apparent youth was that he wasn't an Earth human. His super-fast healing ability, his targeting of the SGC, the crystal, and superior technical knowledge; all this suggested alien origins. All the same, as yet they had absolutely nothing that would identify who - or what - Adams really was.
Thirdly, he was extremely bright. Daniel had apparently consulted him from time to time on translation problems, and there could be no doubt about his computer and physics skills.
The paper really puzzled Jack. If he was working to destroy Earth, why help them by hinting at how to detect the enemy? Had he been trying to help them, but then thought better of it? Or had it just been a way of gaining entry to the SGC in order to destroy it? If so, it was a pretty risky tactic.
Jack decided to try and test his thinking. Adams had come here playing a military officer; perhaps he could be induced to continue the role a little longer? He levered himself out of the chair, and marched down the corridor towards the cell.
Methos lay in his favorite posture, sprawled bonelessly, deep in thought. He might be confined in a holding-cell, but there was no reason to be uncomfortable. He ignored the pounding sound of boots in the corridor moving closer to him, and replayed once again the Colonel's reaction to his triggering the Asgard communication device, trying to read his expression.
Could the Asgard still be around, he wondered? Had the Colonel been worried at the prospect that they would drop by?
Colonel O'Neill hadn't really looked that worried, he thought. All the same, the man had reacted. He had been.....he had been what, he thought to himself. Disturbed? Annoyed? Amused?
All the evidence pointed to this little nest of snakes being responsible for destroying an entire Asgard battleship. If they could do that three years ago, then his emergency signal was not going to bring Thor roaring to his rescue now. All the same, it was hard not to hope.
He thought with warmth about the little alien. Thor and the Asgard had freed him from his symbiote, Death. He just hoped that he would be able to repay the favor. At the very least, he could take revenge for the destruction of the Asgard ship, even if he hadn't been able to do anything for that ship's crew.
The boot-steps came closer, and someone entered the room in which he was housed. Well, perhaps housed was the wrong word - stuck in a cage in the middle of a room, with guards sitting in each corner didn't exactly suggest home and hearth, Methos thought, acerbically.
As the visitor entered the room and requested the guards to leave, he resisted the urge to wave at the camera trained on him. Did they really think he would believe this was just a little 'you and me all alone' chat?
Stop it, he told himself. Focus on how to play the visitor. So far, he'd been subjected to every medical test they could think of - and a few more, courtesy of General Goa'uld-Carter - but no one had seriously tried to interrogate him. He expected that was about to change.
"Lieutenant Adams, you should stand to attention in the presence of a senior officer, " Colonel O'Neill's voice said sharply.
Interesting tactic, Methos thought. And one he could use to his advantage as well. He glanced down at his watch. He just needed to stall them for a little while longer. Should he play innocent-led-astray?
He cursed again the logic that had made him set the naquadah device on such a long count-down. 'Seemed like a good idea at the time' really just didn't cut it.
True, he had wanted enough time to examine the files, collect whatever data he could about the mystery object in orbit, then try and con his way past the guards. He'd needed plenty of time to be safe. Yup, that was it. His self-preservation instincts had kicked in, stopping him from wanting to be blown up. Except that now, the waiting just prolonged the agony. The longer he lay, the smaller the pieces he could imagine himself being reduced to...STOP, he told himself. Deal with the Colonel.
"Sorry, SIR," he said, pointedly not moving. "But I'm thinking we're long past the stage of worrying about a few breaches of Air Force protocol."
"You could be right about that son," Jack replied. "But why don't we just pretend for a moment that everything is normal. ATTEN-SHUN," he barked.
He went with it, leapt off the bed and snapped to attention. He could guess what was coming next.
"Look son," the Colonel said. "You're in a lot of trouble at the moment. You're facing possible treason charges. That could mean the death penalty. But if you tell us who you are working for, we might be able to help you."
Methos kept his face rigidly controlled. They would have to do a lot better than this if they wanted him to talk.
"Look, Adams," O'Neill said. "If you've been forced to do this against your will, we can protect you. You have some things going in your favor - our systems only went down temporarily, you haven't killed anyone, and none of the injuries are serious. Just tell us about your mission, and we'll see what we can do."
Methos quickly suppressed the flicker of contempt that he was sure had crossed his eyes. It was only a matter of time after all.
He wished he could move around to see the Colonel's face. Unfortunately, he was standing just out of eyeshot.
"Look, Lieutenant, you've got nothing to lose at this point, you've already failed in your mission. Why not tell me why you felt the need to put the SGC out of action?"
Methos couldn't help the tightening he felt around his eyes as he struggled to maintain his façade. Weren't they going to at least offer him the chance to work for whatever God it was they served?
"Sir, I have nothing to say at this time," he replied, continuing to look straight ahead.
The Colonel finally moved into his line of sight.
"I just want to understand why you did it, Adams. Who are you really - what are you? And who are you working for?"
Methos wondered for a moment if he should turn the tables, demand to know who their God was? Still, there was plenty of time left yet, he figured, for the game to play out. He maintained a stony silence.
"Look we know you aren't an Earth human," O'Neill said. "If you're just looking for a way to get back to your home, we might be able to help you."
Right, he thought, like I should believe that. All the same, it was interesting that they had made the offer. At least they obviously didn't know anything about immortals, even after all those tests. He let a slight smile quirk at his lips, but said nothing, waiting to see what the Colonel would come up with next.
"Look, Adams, we've got some mysterious object up in Earth's orbit, biffing up our satellites and destroying our defenses. Your friends, are they? Can't you at least tell me who it is? You published that physics paper after all - why stop helping us now?"
Methos stared straight-ahead, debating how - and whether - to respond. But there was nothing to be gained from talking, he realized. They hadn't even offered him any real information. He broke his parade rest stance, and went back to lie once more on the bunk. After a few more minutes, the Colonel left the room.
One game to me, he thought, and resumed his gloomy thoughts on the statistical probability of being pulverized into pieces so small that even immortal healing powers wouldn't save him.
"Yes," Jack snapped in reaction to the knock at the door.
He was still trying to sort through Adams' reactions - or lack of them - to round one of the interrogation. It was going to take time to break him down. And time was something they were short of. Time for good cop, bad cop, he thought?
Although, given the interrogator he had in mind, would it be more of a case of good cop, smother-in-kindness-and-understanding cop? He grinned to himself at the idea of Daniel trying to do a tough interrogator act. He turned around to see who it was that wanted to enter the security station.
"Sir," Lt Zeala said, poking her head around the door. "I have a message from Sgt Lucan. He found a message on Lt Adams' cell phone - seems to have been the results of a background check he requested on Dr Jackson. From the wording, he thinks the message was from someone staying with the Lieutenant."
"Shit," Jack said, "We'd better alert the search team, we need to capture whoever it is straightaway. I'll get onto the General. Lt, ask the Sergeant to get the transcript of the message to him in the Combined Command Center straightaway would you, and then get one down here?"
"Yes, Sir, consider it done, " Zeala replied, hurrying out the door.
Jack picked up his radio and started talking. "Patch me through to General Hammond immediately, over."
"Hammond, " he heard a few seconds later.
"Sir, Sgt Lucan just reported in on Adams' cellphone, " Jack said. "Seems as Adams phone had a message on it. If it's not too late, tell your team that there may be someone in Adams' apartment. Over."
"Acknowledged, Jack, hold please, " the General said. Jack heard voices murmuring in the background. Eventually, the General's voice came through the radio again. "Good timing, Jack, the team is still en route. Get the Sergeant to bring me a copy of the phone message asap, Jack. Over"
"On its way, sir. Over," Jack replied.
"Any luck interrogating Adams yet, by the way? Over," the General added.
Jack glanced up again at the screen showing the cell containing the man calling himself Lieutenant Michael Adams. The Lieutenant had returned to slumping on the bed, unmoving.
"No, Sir, nothing much yet. Since he obviously identified Daniel I think we can take the Pierson identity as confirmed. I'm going to let Daniel do a round with him while I head over to help Sam with the satellite data. Over."
"Okay, Jack, Keep me posted. Over and out."
Jack sensed rather than saw Daniel start involuntarily with surprise when his name was mentioned. Daniel had obviously thought he was being stealthy as he had entered the room. "So Daniel," he said, without turning around, "feel like having a shot at talking to your old 'ami.'"
"You want ME to talk to him?" Daniel asked, recovering quickly. He looked quizzically at Jack, as if suspecting a trick.
Jack turned around to look at him, and hastily sought to reassure his team-mate. "Well, Dr Fraiser seems to think he may not actually be an Earth human," he said, "but he wouldn't talk to her. And I certainly didn't have any luck."
He grinned at Daniel. "I've tried treating him as a junior officer in trouble. No go. Maybe you'll have more luck if you try using that former identity of his, Pierpoint, Pear, what ever."
"Why do you do that, Jack, pretend to be dumb?" Daniel demanded, visibly annoyed. "You know full well that it's Pierson. You only asked me for all the details on him half an hour ago, and I heard you use his name to the General just a few minutes ago."
Jack stared down at his feet, and cursed. He really was gong to have to work this through with his team. Daniel for one, was clearly not going to let him go back to playing the dumb-old Colonel. But he didn't have time to deal with it now.
He looked up and gave Daniel his best contrite grin. "Sorry, Daniel, it's automatic. But we really do need you to try - he might be able to tell us something about whoever it is up their playing catch with our satellites, and for the moment, you are our expert on him."
Daniel looked back at him, clearly unmoved.
"So WHY is it automatic, Jack. Explain it to me."
"Not now, Daniel. We're running a little short on time," he replied impatiently. Seeing the belligerent look on Daniel's face, he changed tack. "Later Daniel, we'll talk. I promise."
Jack waited while Daniel thought it over.
"Alright," he said, eventually. "But I'm taking you at your word on this."
Jack watched as the stubborn look faded from Daniel's face, and Daniel glanced up at the camera feed from the cell.
"So, Daniel," Jack seized the moment. "I was thinking you could do your 'we're just peaceful explorers' routine and use what you know about him to see if you can get anything before I have to give in, and let the Tok'ra use their mind reading machine on him."
"Well it wouldn't actually be the peaceful explorer speech, seeing as how we are on Earth, and as far as we know he has been too for the last twenty or so years. But I'm willing to have a go," Daniel replied. "How much can I tell him?"
"As much as you think you need to. Hell, he's been wandering around sabotaging the base, reading our files. I'm thinking he pretty much already knows what's going on. Besides, he's up for treason. I don't think he'll be going anywhere he can tell all about us anytime soon," Jack said grimly.
Daniel stood up and started heading out the door. Jack moved after him, grasping his shoulder before he could escape.
"You might want to take a look at what we've already collected on him before you go in." He picked up the file from the table and handed it over. "This is his official file, complete with background checks, plus a few extras from my own checking. And his things." He gestured towards the desk. "I'm just going to go down and give Carter a hand. Let the guard know when you're ready to go in. And be careful. This guy's good."
"OK, Jack, " Daniel replied, rolling his eyes. "I'm not a complete idiot you know. I'll let you know as soon as I get anything out of him."
When his cell phone started ringing, Joe thought about ignoring the annoying buzz, but then realized it might be Methos, so he levered himself up, and went to pick it up.
He glanced down at the time on the phone's display. He'd missed a call, he saw - must have come while he was in the shower. He glanced at the time. It was now well past the end of Methos' normal shift. Joe shivered. If Methos was right about what lurked in Cheyenne Mountain, then his failure to return from work was not a good sign.
"Yes," he snapped into the cell, the habits of a lifetime undercover as a Watcher of immortals keeping him from identifying himself too readily.
He was disappointed when the voice wasn't Methos'. His caution, though, was apparently warranted, as the voice at the other end also avoided names. "Look I know it's pretty early, but have you seen your local paper this morning yet?"
"I've only just gotten up properly, " Joe replied grumpily, "What's the problem?"
He moved over to the window. In the street below a car horn beeped. He glanced down, distracted at the unexpected movement in the quiet street.
"It's your pet project," the voice replied. "Seems like you may have had some new additions to the clan in your area over the last twenty-four hours. We have six separate babies found in your area alone. And yours aren't the only ones. We need to confirm that they are, um, candidates though."
"Six!" Joe said. He continued his surveillance of the street, and saw two vans enter the street. The looked like original clichéd covert ops vehicles. Roach or pest exterminators? Gas servicing? Alarm bells started ringing in his head, but he dismissed them as Methos-induced paranoia. He sat, tense, but continued to focus on the phone.
"Sounds pretty unlikely," Joe said. "The last time we had more than one in the same place there was a fifty year gap between them! I'll look into it. May be a bit of a problem getting confirmation though. My friend is unavailable at the moment."
"Not a permanent problem, I trust?" the voice at the other end said, in a tone devoid of emotion.
"No, no, nothing like that," Joe responded. "Just a work crisis."
The vans, he noted, had come to a halt outside the apartment building, but the drivers were still sitting in them. Nor had any of their side-doors opened.
"Right, well, do what you can. You can get the details of the other possibles from the system. I'll leave you to it," the voice replied, and clicked off the line.
A baby plague, Joe thought to himself, still watching the vans. Just what he needed to complicate his life. Still, as a problem, it paled into insignificance beside Methos' aliens.
He thought about what to do next. He was now dressed and ready to face the day, but there was still no sign of Methos. Given what he now knew, this was not a good thing.
A flash of movement in the street below cut into his thoughts. The doors to the vans were opening. Heavily armed, uniformed men complete with flak jackets started to climb out of the vans and head towards his building. Oops, he thought, looks like Methos has been caught. Time to get the hell out of Dodge.
Joe moved as quickly as he could, anxious to get out before the searchers could snatch him. He pulled out Methos' laptop from its docking station in the computer set-up, grabbed his wallet, and headed for Methos' side door. He tried not to panic. He leaned on his walking stick, and tried to move faster, but knew it would be worse if he fell. It should take them a few minutes before they realized that there had been someone home. He hoped it would be long enough.
Please, please, do review - you give me so much inspiration, as well as the impetus for some perspiration!!