Disclaimer: see Prologue
CHAPTER FIVE
09:43 AUGUST 10
When Jack arrived at the General's office he found the General on the telephone deep in conversation. Rather than interrupt him, Jack perched on the end of the briefing room table to take the weight off his knee and closed his eyes.
To say that his last two days had been busy was a gross understatement. In his position of second in command at the SGC he had been helping oversee the search for the two compromised members of SG-14, and was growing more and more frustrated with their lack of success. The Major and Lieutenant had just disappeared into thin air. None of their bank accounts had been touched, they hadn't been spotted at any airport, military or civilian, and neither of them had been in contact with their families.
But that was nothing compared to his frustration over a certain questionable Californian blonde. Jack was still feeling particular sore about that – especially the rumour that had begun to circulate the base about him being a 'damsel in distress' and having to be rescued by petite girls.
He'd eventually found the time to print off a few pages about the Sunnydale disaster two months ago and had been even more puzzled after his brief foray into research mode than before. A whole town knowingly built on a network of unstable underground tunnels and caves? In a geographical location known for earthquakes? The question wasn't why had it happened, but rather, why hadn't it happened a lot sooner? And, if no one had reported pre-quake tremors of any kind, why had the whole town up and deserted like rats from a sinking ship just before the disaster? Why hadn't any other town nearby experienced an earthquake? The whole thing stank, Jack had decided, suspicious of the fact that the outcry over the Sunnydale story had died down so quickly. Weren't there supposed to be ongoing investigations or something? Then again, given the fact that the death toll had been minimal, rather than numbering in the thousands it should have been, maybe people were not willing to question their good luck.
Jack would have been pulling his hair out if he'd had any to spare.
At zero two hundred that morning he'd relinquished command to Colonel Reynolds and retired to his quarters where he'd tossed and turned for what had seemed like forever until sleep had reluctantly granted him a brief respite.
Jack rapped lightly on the wall with his knuckles when he saw the General had finished his call. At the noise, General Hammond looked up from his desk and beckoned Jack in with a wave of his hand.
"Come in, Colonel. I was just about to send for you," he said, closing down the lid of his computer as Jack entered.
"Then I'm glad I saved you the trouble," Jack said mildly, shutting the door behind him and crossing the room with only a hint of a limp to stand before the General's desk, his hands slipping habitually into the pockets of his pants.
"Take a seat," General Hammond ordered. "How's the knee?"
"It's fine, really, good as new," Jack lied, gratefully pulling up one of the spare chairs the General kept for visitors. General Hammond smiled knowingly, and restrained himself from commenting on the slight wince that crossed Jack's face as he sat down.
"Any word from Miss Summers?"
"Squat – not that that's a surprise," Jack replied sourly.
"It's a pity," the General remarked ponderously.
Jack felt a twinge of guilt, wishing that his approach to the woman hadn't gone so spectacularly badly. He'd tried to be polite and diplomatic but she'd irritated the hell out of him when she'd refused to even give him the time of day, let alone hear him out, and he'd stupidly lost his temper. General Hammond had been amazingly accepting of the whole incident, reasoning that the woman would have doubtless behaved the same in response to any method of approach, but Daniel had been giving him reproachful looks all weekend… It had been a very long weekend.
"By the way, Colonel," General Hammond continued, "I'd like Airmen Winters and Green returned to their normal duties." He fixed Jack with a stern look.
"Sir?" Jack said innocently.
"I give you a lot of leeway, Colonel, but I don't appreciate you commandeering the personnel of this base for unsanctioned operations. The surveillance of Miss Summers goes against a direct order from the President of the United States – need I say more?"
"I wouldn't exactly call what they're doing harassment, General…"
"Many would," barked General Hammond, but his manner softened a little as he continued, "and please bear in mind that I haven't said anything about the tracking device you installed on her car, or the bugs in her–"
"Thank you, Sir," Jack interrupted quickly, "much appreciated. I'll have Winters and Green recalled immediately."
"Now," General Hammond said, briskly changing the subject, "in light of this morning's news I've stepped up the search for Major Brooks and Lieutenant Parker." Jack leaned forward to take the paper the General was proffering, unfolding it across his lap. "SG teams three, twelve and fifteen are liaising with local law enforcement until further notice – hopefully we can avoid a mass panic."
Jack's eyes flittered quickly across the front page of the tabloid for the second time that morning. "You think the disappearances are connected? Bit of a leap, Sir?"
Hammond shook his head. "Major Carter doesn't think so, and neither does Major Davis."
"The Pentagon's involved, already?"
"I don't think you appreciate the seriousness of the situation, Colonel. Four employees of this facility have apparently risen from the dead…"
"Point," Jack conceded, sliding the paper back on top of the desk. "Doc Fraiser gotten any closer to figuring that one out yet?" he asked.
"Unfortunately not: she's having just about as much success as anyone around here," General Hammond said tiredly. "We've communicated the details to the Tokra, but they didn't recognise the symptoms – if you can call them that. In fact, they've asked if they can send Anise through to observe our 'patient', and I think Fraiser's so stumped on this one she might actually accept."
"Oh, just what we need," Jack groaned dramatically. "Can this day get any worse?"
As he spoke there was a precise knock on the door from the corridor entrance, and Sergeant Davis entered in response to the General's order.
"General Hammond, Sir, Senator Kinsey has arrived. Would you like me to show him in?"
"Why, why oh why do I ever open my mouth…"
12.52 AUGUST 10
The café was surprisingly busy, the down-town lunch hour traffic descending in hordes. Barely a table was unoccupied and flustered looking waitresses hurried from customer to customer, taking orders and serving food and drink at breakneck speed. At a small table near the entrance facing the bar, Buffy sat and stared out of the window onto Nevada Avenue, absently twining a strand of long blonde hair around her fingers. She tuned out the bustle around her, and alone with her thoughts concentrated on watching the passers by as the crossed her line of vision. She hadn't caught sight of the two men who'd been trailed after her and Dawn over the weekend since mid-morning, and she wondered if they'd finally given up or had just gotten better at making them selves invisible. Thinking of Dawn…
Buffy's shoulder bag was lying on the table and she opened it to pull out her cell phone and check the display. Still no messages. Buffy felt a surge of annoyance that Dawn hadn't bothered to call to say she'd be late meeting her for lunch. She'd probably gotten side-tracked by clothes shopping or something and forgotten to watch the clock. It wouldn't have been the first time. Returning the phone, Buffy's hand brushed against a small slip of square paper tucked inside the top of the bag, knocking it to the floor. Her suspicion that it had been planted there was confirmed when on picking up the paper she found it nearly identical to the note that had been pushed under the motel room door when she and Dawn had been at dinner the previous evening. After swiftly removing them from Dawn's sight before she'd noticed them, Buffy had forgotten about them, determined to keep her promise. She turned over the note and reread the now familiar scrawl of blue ink that ran across its surface.
IF YOU CHANGE YOUR MIND LEAVE A MESSAGE FOR COLONEL O'NEILL ON
719 724 9712
Her mouth pursed in irritation and she curled her fingers into the palm of her hand, crumpling the note into a tight wad before dropping it on the table with a disdainful air. He should have realised by now she wasn't going to play ball, though if anything, she was surprised he hadn't tried stronger tactics since the incident in the parking lot – after the Initiative, just being watched continually was rather tame in comparison.
"Would you like to order, Ma'am?"
"Hmm, sorry?" said Buffy, glancing up to see a falsely cheerful waitress standing over her, pen paused expectantly above a small pad.
"What would you like to eat?"
"I'm waiting for someone," Buffy explained for the second time since she'd arrived, gesturing at the empty seat opposite her. She gave the waitress an apologetic smile.
Once again left alone, Buffy turned her attention to the interior of the café, reading the advertisements posted on the walls. There were the usual flyers promoting local heath clubs and weightloss clinics, intermingled with offers of aromatherapy and miracle drugs, 'just five dollars a week for the first month, then both your arms and possibly your right leg…' Above the menu board was a wide screen television turned to a music station, blaring out the latest hits over several strategically placed speakers. Buffy watched a woman with spiky blue hair and no dress sense jump up and down shouting something undecipherable into the microphone before growing bored and staring back out of the window. Her stomach growled hungrily. She hoped Dawn would appear before she died of starvation, either that or the waitress told her to order something or leave. Given the annoyed looks she was getting from the woman operating the till, it wouldn't be long.
Dividing their forces to shop this morning had been Dawn's idea, and Buffy had hesitantly agreed. Partly because Dawn was being secretive about what she wanted to buy, giving Buffy the suspicion that it would be in her interest to give Dawn some space, but mostly because Buffy was interested to see what their pair of tails would do. As Buffy had hoped, rather than dividing their forces and follow Dawn on her jaunt, they'd both stuck with her and followed her all round down-town 'Springs.
As the hour reached one o'clock, the incessant stream of popular music mercifully halted and changed to a round up of the local news and weather. Buffy wasn't an active Slayer anymore, but she still possessed her Slayer hearing, and picked up the news-readers words over the reverberant commotion of commerce.
'Police are continuing to search for seventeen year-old Stephan Howard after he was reported missing on Saturday by his parents after a friend's birthday party. His family are appealing for anyone with knowledge of Stephan's whereabouts to come forward. State Officials are still maintaining that there is no connection between this case and the abduction of an Italian student in Manitou Springs yesterday. The abduction, believed to be a kidnapping, happened in broad daylight at a local resort, shocking local residents and tourists alike. Witnesses described the kidnappers as Caucasian, but further identification was impossible as the armed men were wearing masks. A spokesperson for the police say a thorough investigation is under way, but that the kidnappers have yet to issue any ransom demands.
'In other news, there is mounting concern for the welfare of a five year-old girl not seen since Saturday morning when she was picked up by her father. The police have not released any details yet, but we have heard that the girl's parents have been locked in a paternity battle for the past four months after what neighbours have described as a 'messy' divorce last year.'
"Excuse me, is anyone sitting here?"
Buffy tore her eyes away from the television screen to stare blankly at a middle-aged man standing on the far side of her small table, one hand resting on the back of the empty chair opposite, the other balancing a cup of coffee and a sandwich.
"No, I'm going anyway," Buffy said, the decision made in an instant, rising quickly to her feet and picking up her bag in one smooth movement. On an impulse Buffy closed her fist around the scrap of paper littering the table, tucking it into the safety of her jeans pocket.
"I didn't mean to drive you away–"
"You didn't."
Hooking her bag over her right shoulder, Buffy stepped out onto the sidewalk and stared up and down the street, searching for a brunette head of hair bobbing her way. With no success ensuing, Buffy sighed, pulled out her cell phone again and brought up the recent call list. She thumbed the phone into action and tried not to pace back and forth as she waited for Dawn to reply. There was no answer, and it wasn't until Buffy lowered the phone and went to disconnect the call that she heard a familiar high pitched tone coming from somewhere to her right. Turning her head experimentally, Buffy localised the sound and moved towards the source, her still active phone momentarily forgotten. The sound, a regular, shrill beeping, was emanating from a narrow alley that ran between the café and the neighbouring establishment, or more precisely, Buffy found, from behind a row of rubbish dumpsters lined down one side.
Crouching down, Buffy picked up the slim, fold-up cell phone and felt a chill of fear shudder within her as she recognised it as the one she'd given Dawn as a going back to school present nearly a year before. It was half open on the ground, the outer casing scratched all down one side as though it had been crushed against a wall. Buffy rose slowly, looking all around herself for further signs of evidence, clues as to what had happened. Finding nothing, she turned off her phone, plunging the alley into relative silence, and stared thoughtfully at the triangular beams of sunlight slanting down its length.
"Dawn?" Buffy called, then fell silent, waiting for a reply that didn't come. "DAWN," she yelled, growing more worried, walking deeper into the alley more out of instinct than from any indication gained from her brief search of the immediate area. At a crash from beyond the end of the alley, Buffy broke into a run, slowing only as she rounded the corner into a small courtyard at the rear of the café.
The crash, it was evident, had come from a trashcan, now lying on its side, innards of rotting food spilling over the cracked paving slabs. It was what was standing behind the disembowelled bin that had Buffy reaching for the waistband of her jeans. Reaching for the stake that unfortunately wasn't there. Unfortunately, because the large figure of a man bearing the twisted, deformed features of a vampire was standing over her sister, who it seemed, had been partly responsible for the mess at her feet.
As the vampire advanced on the seemingly submissive Dawn, still crouching low against the ground, Buffy readied herself to intervene. But just as she was about to launch herself into the fight, she noticed Dawn's hand snaking surreptitiously behind herself to close around handle of the trashcan cover. Buffy raised an eyebrow, smiled, and ceded the floor to her sister.
With a nerveless patience that would have made even a veteran Slayer proud, Dawn waited until the vampire was practically on top of her before swinging the sharp rim of the metal disc into his knees and rolling away out of reach and scrambling to her feet. At his howl of anguish, Dawn bared her teeth with vicious satisfaction and dropped easily into a fighting stance. Buffy would have been swollen with pride if she hadn't been immensely annoyed that Dawn hadn't taken the opportunity to make a run for it. How many times had she told Dawn (as well as the potential Slayers) that the best attack sometimes was to run away. Very, very fast. Too many, Buffy sighed, and she still didn't listen…
The vampire lunged at Dawn with the finesse of a bulldozer charging a herd of sheep, missing her entirely as she dodged nimbly out of his way. While the vampire realised his mistake and collected himself, Dawn pushed the hair away from her eyes, damp with sweat brought on quickly from the intense heat and activity. In the next attack, Dawn wasn't so lucky. The vampire had grown more cautious, and while Dawn managed to duck under his blows and bring an elbow up against his gut, she didn't have the strength to execute the move properly and caught the tail-end of a fist on the side of the head, sending her staggering sideways with a faint grunt of pain. The hit hadn't dazed her though, and she dived out of the vampire's reach before he could follow up the move.
Deciding the fight had gone far enough, Buffy acted quickly, stamping her foot through a wooden pallet and picking out two suitable splinters of wood.
"Dawn!" she shouted, sending one of the improvised stakes spinning through the air towards her sister.
The look of relief in Dawn's eyes as she heard Buffy's cry was almost palpable, and she caught the stake awkwardly with both hands, moments before the vampire barrelled into her. Twisting round, Dawn muddled her feet with those of her attacker, causing the momentum to pitch them both inelegantly towards the ground with a thump. A cloud of dust burst over Dawn who lay stunned on her back for a moment, the stake held before her chest, before gagging and rolling over to cough hard.
Buffy was at her side in an instant, an arm around her sister's shoulders to help her sit up. As Dawn caught her breath, Buffy cupped Dawn's chin an angled her face to the light in order to take a closer look where she'd been hit. A red mark was blossoming along Dawn's cheekbone and Buffy knew it wouldn't be long before it began to swell and darken. She'd probably get a black eye with it, Buffy thought grimly.
"The skin isn't broken: you'll live," Buffy said, letting go and rocking back on her heels and frowning. "Hey, how come I'm not allowed to slay and you are?"
Dawn looked up nervously until she saw the amusement in Buffy's eyes and laughed sheepishly.
"You're unbelievable, Dawn," Buffy shook her head. "I turn my back for one moment and you get into trouble."
"And we're not in Sunnydale," Dawn grimaced. She took Buffy's outstretched hand and allowed herself to be pulled to her feet.
"Nice move though – if a little unorthodox," Buffy grinned, her expression fading to concern at Dawn's wince of pain. "You hurt?"
"My butt… it'll heal," replied Dawn, brushing the dirt off her pants with grazed hands. "How much did you see? Did you see where I dodged his attack? I had it all planned out – honestly."
"Right…" Buffy drawled, unconvinced, though she had to admit Dawn had done a competent job of looking after herself. "Still, you did better than that Colonel the other night – vamp took him out in less than a second. Although, to be fair, he didn't know what he was doing and it was pretty daaaa…"
"Buffy?"
Buffy's voice came out as almost a whisper. "It was dark."
After she'd decided to let Dawn fight her own battle as it were, Buffy had been concentrating so hard on making sure things didn't get out of hand that she hadn't stopped to consider that a vampire attack in broad daylight was unusual. Impossible. Dawn evidently had been so surprised and understandably scared at being yanked unexpectedly into an ally and forced to fight for her life, that the thought hadn't crossed her mind either.
"Impossible…" Buffy breathed.
Yet, in stark contradiction, the early afternoon sun beat unabated down on both her and Dawn.
"Gem of Amarah?"
"Staking wouldn't have worked if he had that, and Giles said there was only one, plus Angel said he'd destroyed it… oh…"
"What?" Dawn stared at the expressions of comprehension and anger that flooded Buffy's face.
Aside from magic there was only one group Buffy had come across that could alter a demon's capabilities; one that could create super demon/human/machine hybrids, or, less worryingly, render them harmless. Like Spike's chip did… The vampire didn't burn up in the sun; that didn't happen naturally. Someone had to have manipulated the demon in some way. What way, she didn't have a clue – that wasn't her area of expertise. The clue she was seeing however was the huge neon flashing sign above the empty space where the vampire had been that screamed 'INITIATIVE' in twenty foot high capital letters.
Seventeen year-old … missing … no connection between this case and the abduction … kidnapping … broad daylight … wearing masks…
Oh crap.
Buffy dug in her pocket and pulled out the crumpled slip of paper she'd stuffed in there only ten minutes ago and tossed it to Dawn.
"Remember Riley's friends?"
Dawn nodded and looked over at Buffy with sudden understanding.
"Buffy, promise me something?"
"What?"
Dawn held up the scrap of paper. "We do this together."
13.49 AUGUST 10
Ignoring the twinges of protest from his leg, Jack strode into the briefing room, coffee in hand, to find his team already assembled round the long table. Major Carter was pouring water from a decanter on the drinks trolley, her back to him as he entered. Daniel was leafing dispassionately through several pages of typed notes, and Teal'c was standing at the window, his hands clasped behind him, staring down on the Stargate in the Embarkation room below.
"Am I late?" Jack tapped his watch with a frown, nearly spilling his drink.
"No. We're still waiting on Doctor MacKenzie and Janet," Carter told him, sitting back down after leaning across the table to retrieve her notes from Daniel.
"Um, Jack?" said Daniel, swivelling his chair to face him. "I saw those two Airmen in the commissary just now." Daniel raised his eyebrows, obviously expecting Jack to know exactly which two Airmen out of a whole base crawling with them he was referring to.
"Oh yeah," Jack said, finally cottoning on. He sat down with a tired sigh and wondered briefly if he should be worried about the covetous way Daniel was eyeing his coffee. "Hammond wasn't too happy so I ordered them off; we've still got the bugs thought, right Carter?"
"Sort of…"
The coffee froze on its way to Jack's mouth. "Sort of?" he echoed.
Carter looked uncomfortable. "In the sense that they're physically installed, yes."
"And in the 'are they working' sense?" said Daniel.
"We've been having difficulty picking up a decent signal. There seems to be some unexpected interference with our equipment."
"What, like some sort of eavesdropping jamming gizmo?" said Jack, tapping the coffee mug with his index finger.
"That's what we thought originally," answered Carter, "but it turns out the interference is actually being caused by the scrambling function of another surveillance device at the frequencies–"
Jack cut her off with a pained expression accompanied by a wave of his hand. "Another surveillance device – I assume by that you mean not one of ours?"
Carter nodded.
"Then we are not the only ones interested in Buffy Summers," Teal'c stated, turning away from the window and crossing the room to join them at the table.
"You're kidding me?" Jack said disbelievingly.
Carter shook her head.
"So," said Daniel, leaning forward and staring seriously at Carter, "by our bugging her we've also inadvertently blocked the signal for the other buggers…" Daniel frowned, "…that came out wrong."
"Not necessarily. The equipment used sends out a transmission at a particular frequency but has the added capability of scrambling the adjacent frequencies to limit the signal being detected by anyone else. The bugs we used simply transmit a single frequency, unfortunately within this range, but the upshot of it is that anything we've installed has probably had no effect on their equipment," Carter explained.
"And we've alerted them to our interest in Summers," Jack stated into his coffee.
"In a nutshell, Sir: yes. With the added bonus that we don't know who 'them – they,' are."
"Well, this day just keeps getting better and better, doesn't it," Jack groaned, leaning back in his chair with an expression of resignation. "Teal'c, you wanna add anything?"
"I believe there is a shortage of pie until next Tuesday."
Carter smirked evilly across the table at Daniel.
"Thanks, Teal'c – very helpful."
Teal'c nodded slowly, a hint of a smile on his impassive, broad face.
"So, Daniel. You got anything on…" At the sound of feet on the stairs Jack let his voice trail off. He twisted round in his seat to watch the two tardy doctors descend the spiral steps, Fraiser following after MacKenzie, her arms laden with a set of dark blue official report folders. Jack waited until MacKenzie was facing him before looking pointedly at the clock. His various, and altogether too frequent, encounters with the Air Force Psychologist had left Jack with little good will towards the man, and Jack had no qualms about making the Doctor feel bad about keeping him waiting.
"Colonel O'Neill," said MacKenzie, acknowledging him with a tight nod. "Major, Doctor, Teal'c."
"Doctors," replied Jack, waving at them to sit down.
"Sorry about the delay," MacKenzie apologised, setting his briefcase down at the place next to Teal'c. "There was a hold up at the hospital; unavoidable I'm afraid."
"Is the General not attending?" asked Fraiser, having diplomatically taken the empty chair next to Daniel. That kept MacKenzie beyond arms reach of the archaeologist, but not out of glowering range, Jack noted.
Jack shook his head. "He's with Senator Kinsey until fourteen-thirty, keeping him… occupied. Shall we start?"
Doctor Fraiser nodded, rising slightly to pass round the folders. Jack flipped the cover of his open and made a face. Inside were several A4 size close-ups showing the injuries sustained by SG-14 as well as those inflicted on the two pathologists in full colour. He glanced over at Daniel and saw that the other man was evidently regretting his visit to the commissary.
"I've been able to make a preliminary study of the results gathered by Geller and Forbes before the attack," said Fraiser, extracting several prints from the remaining folder and arranging them on the table before her. "The cause of death was definitely loss of blood from the wounds on the neck area. The wound here," she said, pointing at a particular graphic picture, "is not a clean cut but more of a tear, similar to that an animal would inflict on prey. I'm not able to verify the exact method of death absolutely because the surveillance cameras were, as you know, disabled in the morgue before the staff were killed, but I would say the wound in each case was inflicted by a bite, the size and diameter of which incidentally matches the current dental condition of Forbes."
"Forbes?" queried Jack. He peered closely at the photo, trying to see the supposed teeth marks in the wound and failing.
"Alexander Forbes, the second pathologist found in the morgue."
"Oh."
"What, are you saying he bit himself?" Daniel frowned in confusion.
Doctor Frasier smiled at Daniel. "No, I'm saying that whatever has infected him caused identical physical changes to that of his murderers."
"You think there's some sort of contagion then that passed from SG-14 to Forbes?" asked Carter.
"That's the latest theory although we won't know for sure until the contagion is isolated."
"If it's contagious don't you think we should have the base under lockdown or something?" Daniel said worriedly.
"No," Fraiser shook her head. "It's definitely not bacterial in nature and isn't airborne so requires more than mere touch to infect. One of my nurses came into direct contact with Major Brooks during SG-14's escape and he's shown no symptoms at all."
"So we're talking about an exchange of bodily fluids?" asked Carter.
"That seems to be the case, yes."
Jack put the prints down and stared across at Doctor Fraiser. "Can you cure it?"
"Honestly, at this point I can't say," Fraiser replied with a bland smile. "The thing is Forbes was medically dead – still is, apart from his neural activity. His body is emitting no heat, has no heartbeat and doesn't need to breathe. However, he appears awake, responds to pain stimuli and sedatives which means his body his functioning to some extent."
"You might need to dig a cross out of your office after all, Danny," Jack murmured teasingly.
Daniel gave Jack a sidelong glance that spoke volumes. "Funny," he muttered back, his voice conveying the complete opposite. "Janet, if he doesn't breathe and this is the same thing SG-14's got, how did Samuels talk to Jack?"
"He doesn't need to use his respiratory system to import oxygen to his red blood cells, but he does have the ability to draw air in and out of his lungs, and hence force air though his vocal chords."
"Has Forbes said anything?" said Daniel.
"His throat was badly damaged in the attack," Fraiser said, shaking her head once again. "The most we've got out of him is incoherent grunts – usually when he's trying to attack someone. Due to his violent behaviour we've had to keep him sedated for the majority of the time."
"The citizens reported missing," said Teal'c. "Is there any medical reason to believe SG-14 is to be held accountable?"
Janet shrugged. "I don't know, Teal'c. Until either those missing turn up, or a body is found, there's no way of knowing if the events are connected."
"Anything else you can tell us?" asked Carter.
"We're running further tests but I won't know anymore until the results come back from the lab. The only thing I have to add is that there were abrasions recorded as being on the wrists and ankles of SG-14 as well as cuts, bruises and burns on their arms, legs and torsos indicating they were restrained and quite possibly tortured before being killed."
"What about Sergeant Hayward?"
Doctor MacKenzie opened his briefcase and extracted a manila coloured file and a small silver Dictaphone, placing them side by side on the table before him.
"Sergeant Hayward is severely traumatised and has to be constantly supervised for his own safety. I've been trying hypnosis and some alternative regression techniques to get him to recount his experience off world, but I don't want to push him too hard, you understand."
"Has he said anything?" asked Daniel.
"So far the sessions have been mostly unproductive. I've established the order of events as witnessed by Hayward up until SG-14's embarkation through the Stargate, but beyond that things get hazy. I've brought a recording," MacKenzie announced, holding up the Dictaphone. He pressed play and set the miniature tape player down, settling back in his chair and folding his arms as voices began to wind their way from the small speaker.
'We sent back the MALP. Standard procedure.' The voice sounded emotionless and sleepy, a strange lack of intonation to its speech.
'What did you do after that?' asked a second voice, evidently Doctor MacKenzie.
'Major Brooks gave the order to secure the perimeter. Samuels and Parker…'
'What did Samuels and Parker do, Mark?'
'T-t-they were… they were screaming.' The 'dead' quality of Hayward's voice lifted as panic began to creep its way back into him mind.
'Go back to earlier, Mark,' MacKenzie said calmly. 'Major Brooks ordered the perimeter secured. Is that what they went to do?'
'They were screaming,' Mark repeated, his voice rising in pitch as well as volume, terror knifing through his words.
'Mark, I want you to–'
'God-dammit, they were screaming!'
Okay, we'll leave it there for today." MacKenzie's words were accompanied by two loud claps.
MacKenzie glanced over at Jack and shrugged his shoulders. "We haven't managed to get past the 'screaming' yet, but the next part should interest you, Doctor Jackson."
'Mark, Mark… look at me.' Hayward sounded confused, shouting words in a slurred mess. There was the sound of a chair being knocked over. 'Nurse, 10 milligrams.'
"Yes, very interesting," Daniel said to MacKenzie, an edge of anger colouring his tone.
"It's just coming up now," MacKenzie explained hurriedly over the sounds of a scuffle, the screech of a table being dragged against rubber flooring.
The recording was suddenly full of incoherent mumbling which grew clearer as the microphone was brought closer to the now semi-sedated Hayward. Daniel leaned forward, his curiosity piqued, his forehead furrowed in concentration as he listened closely to strange words.
'What are you trying to tell me, Mark? What is it?'
It sounded to Jack like Hayward was reciting the same phrase over and over again, his voice growing fainter and fainter as the drugs kicked in, pushing him over into unconsciousness.
MacKenzie pushed the stop button off with an audible click and looked round the table with an expectant and rather self-satisfied expression.
"What was that? Arabic? Alien? What's he saying?" Jack asked.
"Me?" Daniel pointed a finger at his chest.
"You're the linguist," Jack reminded him. "What's he saying?"
"I don't know," replied Daniel.
"You don't know?"
"No Jack. I don't."
"Why not?"
Daniel sighed, setting his hands flat on the table top. "Jack, I don't know all the languages on this planet, let alone the galaxy."
"They're just words," argued Jack. "You speak what, thirty-odd languages – how many can there be?"
Jack found himself being fixed with a bland look from Daniel.
"Only about three thousand we know existed, one hundred of which have been properly documented… and that's just on Earth."
Jack did the math. "Oh." That was quite a lot of languages.
"Daniel, do you think you might be able to translate it?" Carter asked politely.
"If it's some he picked up off world?" Daniel raised his shoulders in a non-committal fashion. "Maybe, maybe not. It depends on when and where it originated. Take Abydos for example, we got lucky – the pronunciation of ancient languages is conjecture a lot of the time, even when the writings from that period are syllabic instead of ideographic. And, might I add, I had the written form to work from as well as the spoken variation. Even if the language he's speaking is from Earth it's going to have evolved over the hundreds, probably thousands of years since its transplantation."
"How long do you need?" Jack asked. "Ball park figure?"
"A week, month… year? He might just be talking gibberish, you know."
"I'm aware of that," nodded Jack, "but you know General Hammond'll be all over it as soon as he hears the recording."
"True," Daniel agreed. "If I can find a common point of reference the–"
"Colonel O'Neill, Sir," a voice barked from the corridor entrance, cutting Daniel off mid-sentence.
"What is it, Airman?" Jack asked tersely, standing up stiffly.
"There was a phone call for you, Sir. A Miss Summers. She left a message," the Airman reported. Jack noted for the first time the envelope he was holding in his right hand.
"Give it here," Jack ordered. He took the envelope from the Airman and turned it over in his hands finding it unsealed. "Thank you, you're dismissed. Finally, something we can work with," Jack said, turning back to the table and sitting down while his eyes scanned the brief note scribbled on the enclosed sheet of paper.
I CHANGED MY MIND. WE NEED TO TALK.
The note went on to list the time and place of the proposed meeting. It was short and concise, yet informative. Jack smiled at the name of the café she'd chosen.
"What does it say?" Carter said impatiently.
"She wants to meet," Jack cheerfully informed her, pushing the message across the table.
"You?" Daniel raised his eyebrows.
"Of course me, who else?" replied Jack.
Daniel shifted in his seat with a cautious air. "Jack, I don't think after what happened last time you're the best person to meet with her. Why don't I go instead?" he suggested.
"She doesn't know you," Jack argued.
"Well, she doesn't 'like' you," Daniel countered heartlessly.
"What gave you that idea?" Jack said in an injured tone of voice.
"Buffy Summers made her feelings towards you quite clear, O'Neill," Teal'c said, cocking his head to peer at the message over Carter's shoulder.
"Whoa there, big guy," Jack frowned. He was chairing this briefing wasn't he? Didn't that command him at least some respect from his subordinates?
"There's a simple solution, Sir," said Carter, passing the message over to Daniel who scanned it quickly. Jack looked sharply at the Major who was smirking altogether too much at his expense. "Daniel can act as chaperone."
The words 'to make sure you behave yourself' didn't need to be spoken. No, they hung in the air between them for all to see. The day had just gotten worse. Again.