Disclaimer: see Prologue
Note: Can I just say a big thanks to 'Wizathogworts' who pointed out I should be using the terms morgue and pathologist rather than mortuary and mortician… whoops. Editing has been done!
Thanks to everyone who's taken the time to review. Sorry the story has been a little slow so far, but the fun starts now! Enjoy, and if you've got an opinion about the chapter, let me know...
CHAPTER THREE
02:35 AUGUST 7
Jack squinted in the near darkness, trying not to trip on the debris that littered the ground. Wooden beams propped hazardously at head height, narrow planks spanning metal poles bolted into position, spare washers and nuts strewn un-noticed in the dirt. A stray beam of moonlight glinted as it sneaked in through the bare structure and struck the silver of pipe cladding and the beginnings of ventilation installation, left treacherously dangling from the floor above.
Quite exactly why he'd followed her in here, Jack didn't know. Part of it, he reasoned, was that he'd had an overwhelming curiosity to know why a young girl was breaking into a building site for Colorado Springs' newest shopping complex, other than she 'just couldn't wait for it to open'. He'd also been impressed by the ease at which she climbed the perimeter fence, a fence that had given him several nasty scrapes on his stomach as he'd gone after her.
Jack stumbled against a protruding spine of scaffolding and cursed at the ripping sound of his jacket sleeve as it tore. Giving in to fear of paperwork, Jack lit up his flashlight and resigned himself to betraying his position. Walking backwards in a lazy circle, he shone the flashlight round the site, the powerful beam hitting light metal ladders that snaked up through the building, disappearing into empty elevator shafts and escaping through non-existent walls. As he took in his surroundings, Jack realised he had no idea where the girl had vanished to, and that his chances of finding her were probably next to nothing. He pulled his radio from his pocket and was just about to check in with Teal'c, when there was a soft crunching sound from beneath his feet and the unmistakable grind of metal rasping against wood.
His radio in one hand, flashlight in the other, Jack made his way towards where a section of web-like scaffolding disappeared into the ground, descending down into the maintenance levels of the construction. Tied, Jack hoped securely, to the scaffolding was a narrow wooden ladder, worn smooth by use, which dropped down onto a platform suspended over the first basement level. Tucking the radio into his pants pocket and clamping the flashlight firmly between his teeth, he swung himself onto the ladder and climbed the several metres downwards until his feet hit dusty boards. For a few seconds he hesitated there, straining his ears for any further sound, and low and behold, further away but still beneath him there came soft footfalls and the crunch of dirt being ground against concrete.
Not pausing for a moment to consider that he was being lured deeper and deeper into the sublevels of the building, Jack looked around for another ladder, finding one immediately to his right disappearing off the edge of the platform and through a gap in the thick stone floor and into the next level. Wrapping his hands around the vertical beams of the ladder, Jack stepped onto the rungs and slithered his way down to the next platform where he stopped, taking the flashlight out of his mouth and shining it around himself, surprised at the cavernous size of the space he was in.
It wasn't until he stepped closer to the edge of the scaffolding that Jack guessed what the rasping noise he'd heard earlier had been, and his world gave way.
The air was knocked out of his lungs as he impacted with the concrete below, and instinctively he cradled his arms around his head to shelter it from the broken wood and occasional metal pole fell on top of him. He lay still as the dust settled, waiting for the rest of the scaffolding to collapse around him, but it never did, and eventually he risked a choking cough that raised another cloud of dust. Casting about himself, his hand collided with his flashlight and he pulled it towards himself and ran his fingers over it cautiously. There were a few nervous moments where he thought the bulb might have been smashed, but his thumb found the on switch light and swelled thankfully into being, illuminating his unwelcome landing pad.
The flashlight picking out the poles rising like spears around him, Jack could see that wooden platform on which he'd been standing moments earlier had splintered and broken such that he had actually fallen down inside the bars of the scaffolding, the planks creating the penultimate platform breaking a fall that could have been a lot worse.
"Oh crap," he grunted as he attempted to push himself to his feet and found with a stab of pain that he must have twisted his left knee at some point. With a low moan of discomfort, Jack struggled upright, trying not to pull too much on the scaffolding in which he'd lost all faith, and hopped over to a support pillar, leaning his back against it as he tentatively experimented with the extent of his injury by putting increasing amounts of weight onto it. Painful, was what Jack concluded after gathering some fairly agonising data, but he could walk if he was careful and did most of the work with his right leg.
Although his flashlight had survived the plunge to the ground, his radio wasn't such a happy story, and he pulled the broken plastic out of his pocket with a weary sigh, feeling it fall apart in his hands in a mess of broken circuitry.
Listening to the waves of sound die away, Jack suddenly knew with perfect clarity that he wasn't alone.
"Hello?" he called, shifting himself round the pillar until he could see the faint outline of his companion, lit dimly from the light filtering down through the hole in the ceiling. To his astonishment he saw not the small figure of the girl he'd followed, but the tall, broad shouldered form of a man. Jack raised the beam of his flashlight, playing it slowly up the body of the man until it picked out a face, staring back at him with a twisted upturning of lips.
"Colonel…" replied the man, and Jack did a double take, recognising him the moment he spoke.
"Captain Samuels," Jack said authoritatively, drawing himself upright with the aid of the pillar, "you're to consider yourself under arrest for the murder of SGC personnel." Always good to get the legal blurb before anything regrettable happened, thought Jack.
Captain Samuels opened his mouth, and to Jack's utter surprise, laughed.
"The General sent his prize bloodhound to fetch back the disobedient soldier," he said, walking slowly towards Jack, his eyes glinting dangerously, not showing any irritation at the flashlight that flicked across his face. "He will learn to be more patient in the future; we would have returned to claim that which shall be ours…"
"Whatever – that's close enough," barked Jack as Captain Samuels continued his advance.
"Oh, I really don't think it is," came the reply, and Jack hissed as Captain Samuels' face shifted and distorted, the brow becoming more pronounced, ridges forming over golden eyes, lips parting into a mirthless grin, revealing lengthened, razor sharp incisors.
"You heard me," snapped Jack, pulling out his Berretta from where it had been secured in a holster under his jacket, gripping his fingers firmly around the handle, his wrists coming together to make an X, the hand directing the flashlight steadying his aim. "I will fire," he warned, the beam wavering ever so slightly as Captain Samuels continued his menacing advance, a deformed smirk spread over his misshapen features.
"Don't!" Jack shouted, his thumb rising to remove the safety with cold efficiency. He clenched his face in regret as the Captain took no heed, mindful of General Hammond's instruction that SG-14 were to be detained alive if possible. Telling himself he had no choice in the matter, Jack squeezed the index finger of his right hand and felt the answering kick of the weapon, the barrel jumping upwards as the gun discharged with a bang that set up echoes bouncing round the enclosure. He watched the Captain stagger, momentum spinning him off course as the bullet ripped through his shoulder, without emotion; he wasn't the first man Jack had shot, and it wouldn't be the last – of all the things in the universe, of that he was sure. Jack's finger relaxed on the trigger and he took a step forwards, gun still trained on the Captain, before he realised that proceedings weren't going as normal.
Captain Samuels was staring back at Jack with a malicious grin, standing firmly on his two feet. His left arm wasn't hanging, damaged and slack like it should have been. His stance was not borne of defeat, Jack recognised with a disturbing crawling sensation down his spine, but of anger, and primal desire for revenge…
Three more bullets were fired from Jack's gun before it was forced from his hand, dropping earthwards and skidding across the floor with a clatter, the sound nearly totally masked by an inhuman guttural roar from Captain Samuels. Jack had no time to react as a hand clamped vice-like around his throat, slamming him backwards with unimaginable force against the concrete pillar, knocking nearly all the air from his lungs. He tried to strike at Samuels head with the flashlight, but it was deflected swiftly and fell to the floor and rolled away, plunging everything into darkness.
The speed and ease at which he'd been incapacitated would have been laughable, thought Jack, if the situation wasn't so deadly. He was an Air Force Colonel with decades of hand to hand combat experience and black operations training behind him, yet, try as he might, all the knees in the groin and frantic twisting couldn't loosen the steel grip of the Captain that pinned him to the pillar, and a chill began to settle in the pit of his stomach.
With all his strength, Jack pushed hard against the Captain, grunting with the effort, unwilling to give in without expending all he had to give; stunned at the predicament he had so suddenly found himself in. His endeavour resulted in what sounded troublingly like a growl form the Captain, and Jack's head was thrust back forcefully by the hand at his throat, lifting him inescapably upwards until only the tips of his boots scrapped the ground, scrabbling frantically as they tried instinctively to find purchase. He couldn't breathe, his chest contracted, the diaphragm spasming painfully as his lungs tried in vain to suck air through his restricted windpipe, blood pounding rhythmically in his ears – so loud he thought his head would burst. Loss of consciousness beckoned to Jack as his brain became more and more deprived of oxygen, and his attempts to free himself relaxed in their intensity.
"Know this, Colonel," snarled Captain Samuels, triumphant and gloating, finally lowering Jack who was dazed and unable to resist, until he was almost level with the Captain's malformed face. "The human plague on this planet will soon fall. Dominion shall be won over all living things, day will fall to night, and a new age will rise."
The hand shifted its grip to lock firmly under Jack's jaw, forcing his head backwards to expose his jugular. Eyes closed, he waited for the slash sideways, the wrench of those elongated teeth that would tear open his throat like that of the first body he'd seen in the morgue.
But it never came.
Without warning, the hand around Jack's throat was gone and he sank to the ground, hunched over in pain, coughing as he gasped for breath, his forehead scraping against the cool, dusty concrete. For a few long moments all Jack was capable of being aware of was drawing large gulps of air into his lungs, the feeling of blacking out finally start to recede, the pounding rush of blood in his head fade gradually away until he began to hear the sounds of combat, or more accurately, Captain Samuels' cries of anguish. Still bewildered at his unexpected, but welcome, freedom, Jack sat up, his fingers dabbing tentatively at the bruised skin of his throat as he tried to figure out what on earth had happened. Had Teal'c found him? That was unlikely, thought Jack, seeing as the Jaffa didn't even know he was in trouble.
"You will pay for this," Captain Samuels snarled and Jack heard what he could only interpret at feet circling one another; the precursor to an all out fight. He wanted to shout to his liberator, warn him that the Captain was far, far stronger than he looked, but his throat wouldn't work and all that came out was a dry, rasping croak.
"Oh please," came an answering rejoinder, carrying clearly to Jack through the darkness, "could you at least come up with something original."
The retort was dripping with contempt, and Jack got the shock of his life as he identified the unmistakable register of a female voice. A female voice with a west coast accent. 'There's no way…' Jack whispered to himself, not even wanting to contemplate the idea of his rescuer being a woman; she would be torn apart by Captain Samuels.
On hands and knees, Jack fumbled frantically round the pillar, searching for the dropped flashlight. It seemed to him to take hours upon hours for the beam of light to pick out the two circling figures; the large form of the Captain in stark contrast to the small, waif-like stature of the girl that had misguidedly taken him on.
Suddenly, the Captain lunged forward and Jack tensed unconsciously, waiting for the girl to be caught by grasping fists. But it never happened. With lightening speed, the girl wove in under her opponent's arms and dealt her own blow, striking hard at the groin then ducking swiftly away as her victim slumped forwards.
"Holy buckets!" breathed Jack.
"That's the problem with you guys nowadays," continued the girl, circling Captain Samuels once again, "you're all bite and no bark."
Captain Samuels attacked again, but his blow was neatly blocked before it reached its target, being met by one in return, followed by a kick that had him staggering backwards. The next punch from the girl however was dodged by the Captain, who caught her by the wrist and powerfully flipping her onto her back so she had to quickly roll out of reach to avoid a sharp boot in the gut.
"Hey, you can fight!"
Jack was totally nonplussed at the pure pleasure he could hear in her voice as she got back up and stalked deliberately forwards, her approach more cautious than before but there was still something intensely feral in her bearing. He had trouble staying with the contest that followed, the two adversaries dancing in and out of the beam as they traded and blocked blows. He could hear the fight though, and listened with white knuckles to the familiar sound of two people attempting to beat the crap out of one another.
Then, abruptly there was silence. Jack searched anxiously with the beam until it landed on the girl, lying on her back, Captain Samuels standing aggressively over her. He was about to throw the flashlight, the remains of his radio, anything to create a diversion, when the girls' legs shot out with a scissoring manoeuvre and cut the Captains' feet from under him. Some kind of weapon materialised in her right fist, and crouching over the prone form of the Captain, she plunged it down towards his chest, and with a strange rushing sound, he was gone.
"What…" said Jack, grimacing at the throbbing in his oesophagus as he tried to speak.
The girl's head shot up from where she knelt, fixing him with wary eyes, before rising slowly and crossing the distance between them, the echoes thrown by her boots sounding loud in the comparative stillness. She squatted down in front of him, long blonde hair falling forwards as she leant over to examine his neck, and Jack saw for the first time that it was no girl that had saved him, but a young woman.
"How…" Jack whispered, raising dust coated fingers to touch disbelievingly at the thin boned wrist of the woman, unable to comprehend how she had defeated a man at least twice her size. He peered hard at her, trying to find the weapon she'd used to disintegrate Captain Samuels, but whatever it had been, it was no longer visible.
How in the world did she fight in those heels?
"I'm sorry, I got distracted," she said, ignoring Jack's question, her fingers lightly tracing the line of his throat before pulling away and wiping her hand on her pants. "Are you going to be okay?"
Jack stared at her blankly.
She reiterated the question, reaching down to shield herself from the light of the flashlight, staring intently at him.
"Yeah…"
Jack climbed stiffly to his feet, steadying himself with one hand on the pillar behind him.
"My gun," he said in a low voice, casting his eyes over the ground.
"They don't work you know," she said, making a face at him, but still raising her left arm to point at the weapon lying several metres away from them where it had spun to leaving a faint outline of its path in the dirt.
"I got it," Jack quickly, even though the woman made no movement towards the berretta, and retrieving the weapon, returned it securely into the holster. He felt disapproving eyes watching him and he turned back to the woman, giving her a lopsided smile, half gratitude, half bemusement. "Who are you with?" he asked.
The woman frowned, "what do you mean?"
"NID, NSA, ATF… Orkin…"
She was unable to prevent a small smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "No."
"No?"
The silence hung between them, broken only by a tired sigh from Jack. She evidently wasn't going to tell him who she was; just stared back at him with wide, sad blue eyes.
"What now?" asked Jack, recognising the standoff.
"Now?" she replied, her voice devoid of all feeling. "Now you go home. Forget you ever saw me."
"I don't think I can do that," he told her, shaking his head.
"You'd be surprised," she shrugged, turning to leave.
"Wait," Jack snapped, but she ignored him, fading away into the shadows. He stepped quickly after her, momentarily forgetting his injured knee and grunting as it threatened to collapse under him, and by the time he'd regained his senses, it was too late; she'd gone.
04:16 AUGUST 7
"Argh… dammit!" Jack swore as Doctor Fraiser pulled his shin forwards, holding his thigh steady and manipulating the tender joint with cool, assured hands.
Jack sat in his t-shirt and shorts on the edge of one of the many Infirmary beds trying not to swear as Fraiser did painful and sadistic things to his knee. He couldn't get too mad at her because after all, the injury was entirely his own fault, but of course, that didn't stop him complaining. God, he was worse that Daniel, Jack berated himself. What had he been thinking, climbing around on that building site without telling Teal'c where he'd gone? Jack thanked his lucky stars that the night guard had turned up to investigate the noise when he did, sparing Jack the tricky assent back up the scaffolding alone.
Not for the first time he wondered where in hell the woman had disappeared to…
"I'm sorry, Colonel," Fraiser apologised, but still failing to halt her activities Jack noted in disgust, "but I have to make sure you haven't ruptured a ligament."
"I haven't," replied Jack, a little more sharply than he'd intended, shifting his leg away from her, "it's just pulled. I know my own knees."
"It looks like that would be the case," Fraiser sighed, straightening wearily and retrieving her clipboard, her pen pirouetting across the attached chart.
Jack felt suddenly guilty, remembering that the Doctor must be as shattered as he, having worked solidly through the night in spite of pulling a full day shift beforehand.
"I've recommended your removal from active duty until the swelling has gone down," Fraiser said, purposefully avoiding his eyes as she informed him of her decision, knowing that he would be less than happy.
"Oh for crying out loud," Jack griped, his fingers digging into the mattress angrily. "General, tell me you didn't," he said, seeing General Hammond entering the Infirmary and glancing around with a slightly lost expression before locating Doctor Fraiser.
"Didn't 'what', son?" said General Hammond, joining them.
"Stand down?" Jack said scathingly.
"I'm sorry, Colonel, but I have to agree with the Doctor here," General Hammond replied, giving Fraiser a supporting nod.
"But they're still out there," Jack grumbled, not quite willing to admit defeat.
"All except Captain Samuels it would appear. Care to tell me what happened out there, Colonel."
"I screwed up, Sir… ahhhh, will you just leave it!" Jack snapped irritably at the nurse wrapping a thick support bandage around his left knee. She paid him no heed and continued her ministrations despite his narrow-eyed glares that shot daggers in her direction. "I was unfocused," Jack admitted with a grimace, determining to ignore the nurse in return, "ended up following this woman into a building site, and, well, to cut a long story short I fell through some scaffolding. Captain Samuels turned up all homicidal and tried to strangle me – his face did that morphing thing Major Brooks' did." Jack shuddered before continuing, wishing the General wasn't so hard to read. "I put a bullet, several actually, in him and… well, I thought my goose was cooked until the woman reappeared and took Samuels out," he finished, shrugging his shoulders in bemusement. How was he supposed to explain something when he himself, the primary witness, didn't understand?
"Where is Samuels now?" General Hammond asked, though Jack was pretty certain he'd been told of the Captains unusual demise.
"Gone, Sir. The woman had some sort of doohicky that disintegrated him."
"Any idea who she was?"
"None at all – she wasn't all that talkative, but I'm thinking NID maybe? They seem to be behind most things one way or another… Thank you, I'll do that myself," he said dismissively to the nurse who was now trying to apply cream to the abrasions on his neck. The nurse rolled her eyes and slapped the bulging tube into his hands before stalking away with an aggrieved air. "She knew what she was doing, General; I don't think she was there by chance."
If it 'was' chance, Jack thought uneasily, then he was damn fortunate to be alive. With his knee in such bad shape there was no way he could've fought Captain Samuels on even terms, but even so, he was still acutely embarrassed by the lack of fight he'd displayed. It was auspicious that he'd managed to get a couple of rounds off from his gun and wounded Samuels before the woman had fought him. Jack supposed if he hadn't the outcome would have been very different.
"Have you got a description?" General Hammond asked.
"Short. Skinny. Blonde," Jack replied after several moments' careful consideration, and then added the word, "cute", as an afterthought.
General Hammond wasn't amused. "That's all? Nothing about the weapon she used?"
"It was dark, Sir," said Jack, looking suitably penitent.
"Would you recognise her again?"
"Yes, Sir," Jack answered with certainty, knowing hers was a face he wouldn't forget in a hurry; something about the world weariness present in her eyes that he'd instinctively identified with.
"I'll have a few words with some people," said the General, "see what I can find out."
"With respect," started Jack, "I'd like to rejoin Teal'c and–"
"Request denied," General Hammond cut him off.
"But, Sir…" Jack protested weakly.
"You're exhausted, Colonel, you said yourself that you screwed up and I can't risk that happening again – not with the stakes so high. One more person out there is not going to make any difference to the outcome of this problem. I believe you have several mission reports overdue that could use your attention," the General Hammond said, combining the stern military reprimand with a measure of paternal concern that Jack found hard to disregard.
Exhausted, thought Jack, unreliable was more like it. He had made errors of judgement that could have been fatal, errors that had resulted in his being unable to bring a member of SG-14 into custody alive. If he continued would a call he subsequently made result in yet more deaths?
Grudgingly accepting the General's wisdom, Jack nodded, sliding down off the bed after picking up his clothes from the bed behind him and limping towards the exit, snagging his boots off the seat of a chair as he went.
"Colonel," he heard Doctor Fraiser call after him, making him pause in the doorway. "You know the drill?"
Jack rolled his eyes, calling back to her as he walked off down the corridor towards the lifts. "Rest, ice, compress, elevate. I haven't forgotten, Doc."
14:30 AUGUST 7
Ten hours, six complaints (from various, fraught Airmen), fifty minutes of quality sleep (taken with head flat on desk), and one slightly crumpled report later Jack entered the briefing room by way of the stairs: assaulted gingerly and with much caution.
The upside, Jack pondered as he tackled the last step, was that the complaints hadn't been made 'to' him; hence he hadn't had to bother to do anything about them. However, the flipside was that they'd unfortunately been made 'about' him, and consequently one Major General George Hammond wasn't likely to be in such a good mood with a certain grey-haired Colonel. Like he'd been overjoyed before, Jack thought sourly. Oh well, one couldn't have everything in life, and if he had to stalk a few Airmen in order to be kept up to date on the continuing search for SG-14, then so be it.
He only wished his left knee didn't feel so opposed to bending or bearing his weight. Its neighbour did so with only minor objections, and Jack felt that it should be taking better notice of the good example. The truth of the matter was, that in a nutshell, age was catching up with him. It had reared its sly, ugly head when his mind, and usually body, had been otherwise occupied with more important affairs. Which, with the planet often at fate was probably a good thing, but the result was that Jack was getting to the point where he could no longer ignore the obvious: he was an 'old man' doing a job meant for the lithe and youthful.
His body no longer recovered as fast as it used to, sometimes forgetting almost entirely that joints were supposed to be flexible first thing in the morning, the spring in his step returning with more and more reluctance each time it took a battering. Having always been incredibly fit and active throughout the majority of his adult life Jack hated the feeling that his body was wearing out on him with a vengeance. He knew he should sensibly start to slow down a little, stop demanding things of his body that would have been acceptable in his twenties but now resulted in niggling aches and pains that lasted for days afterwards.
The problem was that Jack simply wouldn't know what to do with himself.
"I'm just saying," an earnest voice greeted him, "we have no idea what their natural behaviour is. We don't know whether violence is a 'default setting' if you like, or just a reaction to confrontational situations."
"Morning… afternoon," Jack corrected after staring quizzically at his watch and tapping it several times even though it was digital: old habits die hard. "Whatcha talking about?"
"Afternoon, Sir. Daniel and I were just discussing…"
"Arguing," Daniel pedantically interjected.
"…arguing about the General's decision about involving local law enforcement over SG-14," Major Carter informed him.
"Oh," said Jack, taking his customary seat at the large octagonal briefing table opposite Carter and Teal'c. "Speaking of the General?" he asked, gesturing at the unexpectedly empty setting to his right.
"In his office," said Carter, nodding towards the transparent star-map, behind which was the General's inner sanctum. "He said to go ahead without him."
"Jack, what do you think," Daniel said suddenly turning to Jack, his long fingers toying distractingly with a silver ballpoint.
"About what?"
"SG-14, or whoever they are – do you think they represent a danger to the public?"
"Oh yeah, you should have heard Samuels spouting all sorts of fanatical crap," Jack emphatically replied.
"Fanatical?" Daniel frowned.
"You know: humans are a plague, darkness will prevail and blood shalt flow like water. That sort of thing," he explained.
"Apocalyptic?"
"I was thinking megalomaniac, but that'll do."
"Well, whatever he said, General Hammond contacted the Sheriff's Department this morning. Gave them description of Major Brooks and Lieutenant Parker and issued a statement saying they were AWOL, unpredictable, armed and dangerous: not to be approached by non military personnel," said Carter.
"Media caught on yet?" Jack asked.
"No so far," Carter shook her head. "There's been neither sight nor sound of either Brooks or Parker since daybreak; hopefully we'll be able to keep this out of the news until they're been apprehended."
"Pictures have been sent to all the airports and boarder checkpoints so if they try to skip the state we'll get a heads up," added Daniel.
Jack was not convinced those methods would be adequate to rein in two highly trained soldiers, and one look at Carter told him that she didn't think so either. The reality of the situation was that if either of the two members of SG-14 wanted to leave Colorado there was nothing they, or the entire State Police could do about it.
"What about my friendly neighbourhood ninja, know who that was yet?" he asked, changing tack.
"Yes, Sir: Buffy Anne Summers."
"Buffy!" Who saddled their kid with a name like that?
"Is Buffy not a common name on Earth?" Teal'c asked, not understanding Jack's reaction.
"God, I hope not," Jack heard Daniel murmur beside him.
Carter grinned and referred to a fawn coloured file before her. "Summers was caught on camera near the building site and we managed to match her face to…" She trailed off, her eyes rising to watch General Hammond exit his office looking more than a little flustered.
"I just got off the phone with the President," General Hammond announced, walking the length of the table and pulling out his chair, "concerning our Miss Summers."
"That was quick, Sir," said Carter, surprised.
"He called me," the General said meaningfully. He sank into his seat with a sigh that seemed to drain all the air from his lungs. "It appears that the digging Major Carter has been doing has stirred up one mother of a hornets nest."
"But I ran her though the computers less than half an hour ago?" exclaimed Carter, her eyes wide.
"I know, but your search triggered a number of alarm bells very high up in both military and civilian circles. It has emerged that Miss Summers was involved with a governmental agency in the past, whose actions where somewhat controversial."
"Which one?"
"The President didn't say, Colonel. What he would tell me however is that Miss Summers is a young lady of the utmost integrity, but is not presently associated with either him or any governmental enterprises at this time. His direct instructions were that all enquires pertaining to Miss Summers' military and classified records are to desist, effective immediately. I believe his exact words were 'Miss Summers is a private citizen of the United States and should be treated accordingly.' He also warned that under no circumstances is Miss Summers to be harassed or coerced by this Command."
"Whoa, that's pretty heavy," whistled Jack.
"What did you find, Sam?" asked Daniel, intrigued at the maelstrom she'd unintentionally initiated.
"Nothing!" Carter said defensively. "Seriously – a few police cautions for arson and violent behaviour, but no charges. She did have an FBI file as well, but it was empty."
"Suspicious?"
"Very," replied Carter, nodding and thumbing though the thin file. "If she has been involved in classified projects then the documentation must be incredibly well buried. All I could find that was remotely interesting is the fact that for the past seven years she resided in Sunnydale, California – until recently of course," Carter concluded.
"What's interesting about that?" asked Jack. He wondered why everyone turned to stare at him like he'd just proclaimed he was a Goa'uld.
"Err, because the entire town collapsed into a giant sink hole," said Daniel, eyeing him strangely.
"When was that?" said Jack, returning the look with intense mistrust.
"Two months ago, O'Neill," Teal'c told him, one eyebrow cocked in what passed as Jaffa concern.
"Jack, it was all over the news – are you seriously telling us that you didn't know?" Daniel's expression changed to one of amazement.
Jack glanced pensively around the table at everyone. He felt strangely out of his depth, unsure whether or not they were playing some bizarre practical joke on him. Nope, they all looked worryingly solemn.
"I might have missed… it…" he finally admitted.
"It was indeed most fortunate that the towns' people deserted Sunnydale the night before the catastrophe," remarked Teal'c.
Okay, now they were having him on.
"Yes that was odd, wasn't it," Carter said gravely.
Or maybe not…
How could he have missed hearing about this? It was true he'd been blinkered recently by a stupidly heavy workload after Daniel's surprise return, but even the de-ascended archaeologist had picked up on the event! Carter, who'd been practically sequestered in her laboratory, working on what she'd told Jack before his ears had threatened to implode was a new and improved Naqahdah generator, evidently knew about it.
Feeling distinctly inadequate, Jack turned his mind back to the conversation discussing, or for everyone else, re-discussing, the cataclysm that had befallen the inauspicious Californian town.
"Mass E.S.P?" Jack hazarded, receiving a poorly disguised look of irritation from Carter.
Jack made a mental note to look up Sunnydale and see for himself what all the fuss was about. He'd use Daniel's computer, he decided. This was not because Daniel's computer was in any way superior to his (apart from the 'dance like an Egyptian' wallpaper obviously) but for the uncomplicated reason that Daniel, in an attempt to be helpful, or possibly to speed Jack's departure from his office, would inevitably end up taking over; hence saving Jack the trouble of actually using the damn thing himself.
This, unfortunately, Jack sighed, demonstrated his comparative age with his friend. It wasn't that he couldn't use computers or the 'net, after all he got his reports typed up (occasionally on time as well) and had learnt how to use countless gismos and gadgets as part of his black operatives training, he just preferred not to if he had a choice in the matter.
Yes, definitely Daniel's computer. It was safer than Carter's – she would try to teach him and the whole enterprise would end up taking twice as long than if he used his own. Daniel's office was also the least dangerous environment for a Colonel who had trouble keeping his inquisitive hands out of trouble. Each room was packed floor to ceiling with 'toys' that just begged for Jack to fiddle with, push around, and intermittently juggle. As least in Daniel's office he was fairly confident that if he dropped something it was unlikely to detonate (unless one counted Daniel himself exploding with fury).
That would all have to wait to later though, Jack reflected, because General Hammond was being summoned, rather loudly in fact, to the infirmary, and SG-1 of course would accompany him.
In the glass Jack could see his reflection staring back at him with a puzzled expression. His mirror image double was looking baffled because Jack himself couldn't remotely understand the scene in front of him. On the other side of the pane, past the faint image himself, lay one of the infirmaries three operating theatres cum observation rooms.
It was in fact the same one Sergeant Hayward had been in only the night before, and there were many similar aspects to the scene that had greeted him then as well. The bustling medical personnel, Doctor Fraiser wafting in with a threatening snap of her rubber gloves. General Hammond, Carter, Daniel and Teal'c standing alongside him, waiting once again for Doctor Fraiser's report on the situation.
The man on the bed had what might have once been a white, and now rather bloodstained, sheet draped across his loins and down to his knees. His chest, peppered with gaping bullet holes, had been left on clear display. What Jack couldn't understand why there was so much medical attention for someone who was quite obviously very, very, very dead? But after further careful observation, Jack realised that there was something bothering him about the sight even more.
Hands in pockets, Jack turned to Doctor Fraiser.
"Since when did we put corpses in restraints?"