Author's Note:
This is a painfully short chapter (sorry), but there is a reason. At least, I'm pretty sure there is . . .
Chapter 12Sam slept restlessly, waking after only a few hours of shuteye before her mind began processing the events of the previous evening. She finally rolled off the couch and sat up, looking around the office assigned to her at Prime's top-secret research facility. She was surprised to spot her suitcase sitting by the office door. It was disconcerting in so many ways, the thought of an invasion of her privacy. It was not like she had anything in there that was classified. Nor was there the idea that anyone had to pack up for her – she had not even unpacked before she was on the road to Prime with Rachel. Whoever had gotten her suitcase had an easy job of simply walking out the door of the hotel with it. Sam had no doubt Rachel had arranged for the delivery.
She should have been so lucky in the Air Force. She had her own bathroom, a posh little room that was stocked and had a shower. The decision to catch a quick shower was easy. It refreshed her enough to tackle her entry into Prime's huge database. Archie was accommodating. The fact that she could conduct queries by speech sped the process.
"Archie," she called out after making sure the office door was closed and locked.
She half-expected the computer's voice to resemble that of the cartoon character, but it responded in text on her computer screen.
"How may I help you, Major Carter?"
"I need to see Prime's secure files."
"Please input credentials," it responded.
Sam opened the folded sheaf of paper Rachel had given her the previous night. Using the keyboard, she entered the username and password. The screen went blank for a moment. Then, Archie responded an affirmative acceptance of the entry.
"Please state your query," Archie displayed.
"Show me recent ongoing transactions between Prime and government officials."
Archie's display began spewing line after line of data. The volume was overwhelming and barely readable.
"Stop display," she commanded. "Show recent ongoing transactions with special provisos between Prime and government officials," she said, refining her search.
There was a pause as Archie tried to process the request. "Define 'provisos'," it said.
Sam smiled with irony as the synonyms rolled off her lips. "Kickbacks, bonuses, payola, sweeteners," she supplied.
Again, Archie paused. She half expected the system to not understand the request, but then it began showing a very manageable list, one with abundant information Sam never dreamed she would be reading.
The list almost made her laugh in its detail. Most of the names were not surprising. Many were ones that made perfect sense, although there would have been a sweet revenge to have an investigation launched on them. Senators, corporate leaders, researchers, various officials – they were all sweetening the pot for Prime Power. None, though, presented anything more than a one-way door for the company to thrive. The kickbacks were unethical, but nothing screamed "danger" in any way. Almost all those listed were paid off in the form of luxury items. Boats, planes, and land were the main prizes. There was no evidence of a transaction where a beneficiary received inside technology as produced by the Stargate program. As far as Sam could see, the services provided by the recipients were in terms of paving the way for Prime to thrive in a bureaucratic world. It was as Rachel had said, that Prime had protected the Stargate program's interests with gusto. The outcome was unexpected. Sam thought there were would be more impropriety on the part of Prime, but there were no signs of scandal other than allocating money for "entertainment purposes" to butter up influential resources. After two hours, she concluded the avenue of the search was a dead end. It was time to look closer to home.
"Show me the primary researchers working on the MALP project," she commanded.
The first face she saw was not surprising. Holleran Dekker was the lead interface engineer in charge of reconditioning and developing the communication systems for the MALP. Sam's curiosity got the better of her. The fact that Rachel had a brother was intriguing enough. She and Sam had been friends for a long time, but there had never been a mention of a sibling. Sam began reading every line of his biography and employment history, wanting to know more.
His work in virtual reality was unprecedented. Educationally, he had been a prodigy, entering graduate work in college when most people were still figuring out what they wanted to be when they grew up in high school. His childhood had been a myriad of accomplishments that were in line with some of the best researchers Sam had ever known. It was at MIT where he developed his best VR work. From there, Rachel had brought him into the fold at Prime, stealing him from any other prospective employers. His entire biography read like a cheerleader for Prime Power. He was a team player whose skills were top notch.
Many of the other bios Sam read were similar. The scientists who were a part of the MALP project were exemplary minds, contributing their best knowledge to the Stargate project, just like Holleran. The idea that Rachel employed the best of the best was glaring and clear. They had all been plucked from the grasp of what appeared to be dream jobs outside Prime. Prime was where it was all happening.
One of the biographies contained an extra search option. Newton Vineland, lead communications designer, was assigned to the MALP's transmission system design. She read through his biography, impressed with his accomplishments, and almost closed the file when a small icon in the bottom caught her eye. She queried Archie of its meaning.
"Classified level seven personnel information," it responded.
"Open it," she said, feeling a thread of excitement for the first time since opening the files. It had been a boring run through egghead biographies, as O'Neill would have put it. Vineland presented a change in pace and perhaps a little intrigue.
Archie displayed his biography. A communications engineer, Vineland was responsible for MALP communications through the wormhole and back to the controller. His work had been exceptional, but the level seven information presented a different side of him. Carter read with ensuing interest as his criminal record was put on display for her consumption. His juvenile rap sheet was long and distinguished, but it was his adult habits that were a myriad of the directions he had taken in his life. If he had not been labeled by the justice system, he might have been considered a child prodigy at the tender age of ten. His penchant for theft and violence reared its ugly head at around that same time, marking him and putting him on the court's radar.
His psychological evaluation was page after page of interviews that showed how enraged he was and illustrated how he had graduated to adult crimes. At first, it was more of the same – theft, simple assaults. Then his tastes changed. There was a muddied era on the timeline where he was tracked as a for-hire technician, doing work for whoever would pay. As part of his reward for his loyalty, he coveted anyone he wished for his own pleasures. It was his brilliance that kept him alive in some cases. He was not discerning when it came to employers. The Pentagon had utilized him more than once, and Prime had finally won his loyalties. In between those two contacts were a number of jobs with what were easily classified as enemy governments and entities.
Sam read each page of the file, more and more shocked by what she saw. Vineland was heinous in his crimes, most of them sexual and violent. He reminded her of the worst of the worst she had seen in her missions with SG1. His list of exploits was a timeline of short jail sentences, probation, and outright dismissal of the justice system's power to confine him. The fingerprint of intervention of secret national government agencies was all over his perpetual freedom. He was a predator who should have been locked away for good, or, in Sam's opinion, should have been eliminated all together, since that was the only way to ensure someone like Vineland could not hurt any others. His kind was making the galaxy a miserable, terrible place on some planets. His fate should have been no different than any other system lord except for the fact that the SGC and other Pentagon-support agencies relied on his expertise to a fault.
That got her to thinking if he was a suspect for having pulled her files. It was creepy at best if he was the one, but Sam also knew she could not arbitrarily accuse him of anything without proof. That would require additional searching. There would be no need to ask the SGC or O'Neill to pull information for her on Vineland. Archie's repository contained what Sam suspected was every piece of data available on him.
His company record was a rash of complaints filed against him by his coworkers for rude behavior and even minor threats. He lacked professionalism, was unabashedly sexist. It came as no surprise to Sam to see that Bainbridge had filed numerous insubordination complaints against him, resulting his demotion in Prime's infrastructure.
As Sam delved into his historical files, she could not get Vineland's face off her mind. It kept coming back to her – white male, forty-six, trim but paunchy in his later years. His blonde hair was meshing like camouflage with the white of age. His darker goatee was unnatural, as though he colored it to offset it from nature. It was his eyes, though, that were the worst. They were dark, piercing orbs that looking like they were probing, selecting prey whenever the mood suited him. Sam closed her eyes for a moment, her memories of Jolinar mingling with hers of every obsessive, violent being they had encountered. The stream of images was shocking and sustained. The door to Jolinar's travels opened ever so slightly, letting through some of the most profound of emotions of her former symbiote's life seep into the fore of her mind. It was a torrent of flashes and sensations that prickled Sam's skin with stress. Her heart rate increased as she was caught in the flood, unable to escape.
"You okay?"
The words stabbed through Sam like lightning, causing her to jump and nearly stand from her chair.
Rachel Dekker stood before the desk, looking down at her with concern.
Sam sat back, running a nervous hand through her tousled hair, the images still firing fresh in her mind.
"Yeah," she said shortly, not sure if she wanted to launch into any questions about Vineland. "I thought I locked the door?"
Rachel held up a key card. "I knocked, but there was no answer. I got worried."
Sam tried to regain her composure, but the emotional torment of seeing Newton Vineland's profile still shook her. Instead of letting it silence her, she used it to her advantage, playing off the feelings coursing through her.
"Who's Newton Vineland?" she asked, her voice surprisingly steady in her ears.
Rachel's stoic face was stony. Sam could practically see the spin-doctors in the executive's mind going to work.
"Lead communications engineer on the MALP," she answered simply, giving a stock description.
"He's a real boy scout," Sam said evenly.
Dekker did not relent. "If I didn't keep him hired here, he'd go to work for someone else. That someone else might not be a Pentagon favorite."
"I take it he and Bainbridge didn't get along?"
"She thinks he's a pig, and I'm not inclined to argue that."
"Maybe that's why she didn't want to work on the MALP project – because she was afraid of him?"
Rachel sat down across from Sam. "You're reading into things."
"Really?" Sam challenged. "He's got a record longer than War and Peace. He's been screwed up since he was a kid, but you're giving him house room."
"I'm supplying my country with the best minds it needs to make sure your Stargate program doesn't fold," Rachel countered. "No one ever asked me to make sure they were poster boys. If you ask half the powers that be at the Pentagon, they'll tell you they don't care. All they want is their product."
"I'm willing to bet Ellen Bainbridge cared last night around nine o'clock. Where was Vineland?"
"Not here," Rachel answered immediately.
It took a moment before it dawned on Sam what the swiftness of her answer meant. "You're worried he did it, aren't you?"
Rachel cradled her forehead in her hand, resting her elbow on the arm of the chair. "They never got along from day one," she confessed. "It was like babysitting some days. Their arguments would get so heated that I'd have to separate them."
"Anything physical?"
"Came close a few times. I even had Mitchell detain him once until he calmed down."
"Where is he now?"
Rachel looked somber. "I have people out looking for him. When they find him, they'll bring him here for questioning."
Sam looked away from Rachel, feeling a sudden and overwhelming sense of disappointment. She struggled to put it all in order.
"You're the one who asked to look at the files," Rachel said, as if hearing Sam's inner struggle. "I told you it wasn't going to be pretty."
Sam looked at Rachel again, seeing her friend in a new light. "Is this all just a matter of business to you?" she asked pointedly. "I mean, I know what you told me in Colorado, but you don't seem too worked up that Vineland may have put a woman Holleran views as his surrogate mother in a coma."
"It's more complex than that."
"Enlighten me, because I'm having a hard time putting this all into perspective."
Rachel smiled. "You know the stakes better than anyone, Sam. This is not a perfect world, and Prime is not a perfect company. Sometimes, you have to deal with a situation by compromising. Newton Vineland is the man who allows you to talk to your MALPs. He developed that language all by himself. I've got friends from MIT who'd sell their firstborn to have a tenth of his insight."
"You're justifying a monster."
"I'm giving the SGC what it needs to prevent a Goa'uld invasion. To do that, sometimes you have to make a pact with the devil. In Vineland's case, he brought his knowledge to Prime, and I kept his ass out of jail."
All at once, Sam regretted ever having taken on the assignment of looking into the inner workings of Prime. She was rapidly learning more than she ever wanted to know about a company upon which the SGC relied heavily. More than that, the revelations from Rachel Dekker were becoming painful and were evoking anger that was beginning to cloud Sam's common sense.
"We need to talk to him," Sam said.
Rachel looked more tired than ever. "He'll be brought here as soon as they find him."
"But do you think he did it?" Sam asked again, being as direct as possible.
Rachel smiled once more, seeing the angle of attack and successfully blocking it. "It's not going to change the status of his 'get out of jail free' card. I don't know how I'll handle him being around here, but he has Teflon skin. It's not going to stick to him, no matter how much you want it."
"This is not about what I want!" Sam shot back hotly. "He's hurting people, Rachel. We fight the Goa'uld because they do the same thing."
"You're convicting him without proof."
"Your own files on him say he's done it in the past. Those same files say he'll probably do it again."
Rachel rubbed at the corner of her eye to satisfy an itch. "I don't want to go Machiavellian on you, Carter" she said, slouching in the chair, "but Vineland's the best. He's a rat bastard, and he'll probably burn eternally in hell, but he's the best in his field. The Stargate program needs him."
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The observers had been tasked to monitor all transmissions within the target and to report to the rest of the hierarchy. Subject 20192 was communicating with Subject 1. The contents of the communication were speculative, but Subject 1's behavior was vehement.
The observers had done massive studies on human behavior in order to understand the more random complexities versus expected or predetermined outcomes. This understanding was crucial in order for the hierarchy to be able to report back to The One. Probabilities and statistics had been compiled within the hierarchy, but no logical pattern could be discerned amid human behavior. The hierarchy had determined that the solution was to make its carrier perform needed tasks and functions. This had become a most invaluable decision when Subject 3 had nearly compromised the hierarchy's mission. It had become necessary to suppress Subject 2's natural interaction and simulate proper human responses in order to attain new information. Subject 3 was mobile and able to accomplish the task without detection.
Prime Power's computer system had provided the perfect information conduit for the hierarchy, allowing the observers to travel from subject to subject freely, entering and exiting each environment undetected as designed. The One would be pleased with the newly acquired information. The current subjects were exchanging details necessary to complete the mission. First and foremost, the hierarchy's mission was to fulfill the commands of The One. The task of observation had been accomplished on Day Zero of arrival. It was simply a matter of correlating data.
For the observers, the goal had been simple – to infiltrate the enemy's stronghold and gather crucial data to be returned to The One for use in battle. When the observers had capitalized on a number of opportunities already. Now, a new, more useful opportunity had revealed itself without any intervention. Subject 1 had been reclassified when it was determined to be a member of the enemy's stronghold, and had become available and was even a possible target for transport. According to calculations by the observers, the possibilities were endless.
Nonetheless, the observers were nearing the point of the need to return to The One and report the findings. The collected data was nearing capacity, and there was risk of discovery. Subject 2 had nearly compromised the mission, but it had been quelled in time. There was also the option of adding more observers, if necessary, from the current environment. However, it would take time to assimilate to the current collective.
The observers continued the task of collecting information. The hierarchy had determined at the onset that Subject 1 was the answer. Soon, it would be time to report to The One and announce that the mission had been accomplished.