CHAPTER SEVEN – Music, Literature, and Blackmail
But do thy worst to steal thyself away,
For term of life thou art assured mine;
And life no longer than thy love will stay,
For it depends upon that love of thine.
Then need I not to fear the worst of wrongs,
When in the least of them my life hath end.
I see a better state to me belongs
Than that which on thy humour doth depend:
Thou canst not vex me with inconstant mind,
Since that my life on thy revolt doth lie.
O what a happy title do I find,
Happy to have thy love, happy to die!
But what's so blessed-fair that fears no blot?
Thou mayst be false, and yet I know it not.
Sonnet 92 by William Shakespeare
Agent Malcolm Barrett had always been of the opinion that some of his agents deserved Academy Awards. Certainly more so than some of the actors in the film industry who won them. Certainly Rachel Grier did.
She sat behind her desk in a neatly pressed, burgundy-colored suit, her hair piled atop her head in a manner that somehow succeeded in being perky. She gave him a very pleasant, very generic smile. "Good morning. Can I help you?"
"Agent Malcolm Barrett. I'm with the government. I wondered if I might have a moment with the Senator." He flipped open his I.D. and displayed it.
She flipped a book on her desk and ran her finger across the top of the page, tapping the pencil in her other hand against the glass surface of the desk. "You don't have an appointment," she said levelly, looking back at him. She looked very disapproving. "The Senator is a very busy man, and he's got several important interviews lined up for—"
"Please," he interrupted, wishing he could laugh. Rachel had been the one to tell him this would be an excellent window of opportunity to catch Kinsey relatively unoccupied. "It'll only be a moment."
Rachel looked over his shoulder to the man standing by the door. "Jerry," she said with over-patience.
"He's here on Fed business, Rachel," the man said apologetically. "I had no choice. He's clean," he added.
She sighed. Glaring back at Barrett once more, she pushed a button on her phone. "Senator?"
"Yes?"
"There's an Agent Malcolm Barrett here to see you. He says it'll only take a minute."
The calculative pause that followed left Barrett to wonder what sort of cogs were rapidly spinning in the manipulative Senator's head. "Show him in."
"Yes, sir." She stood up. "Follow me."
For someone who lived as affluently as Robert Kinsey, the office was surprisingly Spartan. A few pictures and degrees on the wall, a slim computer, very little furniture. Barrett took one of the two light chairs before the desk without being asked, as Kinsey shut the door behind his retreating secretary.
"Always happy to speak with the NID folks, Agent Barrett," he said, using his politician's voice. "Although I don't believe we've been introduced." He looked expectant as he took his own seat.
"We haven't," Barrett said simply. "But you seem to know a lot of my people very well, Senator. Which is funny, because, I never gave them approval to be working with you."
You had to hand it to Kinsey, Barrett decided. He certainly knew when to drop the act. His features immediately hardened. "What is this about?"
Barrett pulled a gray disk out of his pocket, placed it face down on the brightly polished wooden desktop, and slid it across to the Senator, tapping his finger on it meaningfully. "I have another copy of this, of course," he said. "But I think you'll find it's quite incriminating. Bribery, conspiracy, any number of other charges." He cleared his throat and straightened his tie casually. "All pointing straight to you, Senator."
Frowning, Kinsey popped the disk into his computer, and Barrett waited patiently while he inspected its contents. It had been very difficult compiling the information it contained, especially without blowing Rachel's cover, but Barrett had focused his attention on little else in the past few weeks.
"What is it that you want?" Kinsey finally asked. "It must be something, otherwise we wouldn't be here having this nice, private chat, would we?"
"No, we most certainly would not," Barrett agreed. "You see, Senator, the problem is, this evidence convicts you, but the people I'm really after are the ones you're working with. I happened to stumble across your involvement by mere happenstance." The lie fell easily from his lips. True, his goal was to clean up his organization, but he'd know Kinsey was somehow involved for quite a while. "As you can see, they've been very good at covering their tracks. But you must know something more than I've been able to find."
He leaned forward. "Tell me how to find these people, and you're home free, Senator."
Colonel O'Neill had been gone for three days and Jonas had enjoyed two more violin lessons by the time he made further progress with the devices from PX3-651. By then it was pretty late, and Sam had gone home for the night. So were General Hammond, Doctor Fraiser, and just about everybody else Jonas was friends with, except for Teal'c, who was kelnoriming. As such, Jonas was forced to wait until morning before sharing his discoveries with anyone.
Sam and Teal'c were eating breakfast in the commissary when he found them the next morning. "Guess what," he said eagerly, sitting down at their table. He set his notebook and papers by his elbow.
"Good morning to you too," said Sam wryly. She nodded at his notes. "What's up?" she asked, taking a bite of her pancake.
He held up a page where he'd scribbled the results of his work the previous night. "The obelisk, "he said. "The one on 651?"
"Yeah?" Sam said, with genuine interest this time. She reached over and took it from his hand. "You found something?"
"I think I know how to open it. Well, sort of."
"How?"
He opened a folder and pushed it to her. "Your connection to the Sentinel device was really helpful. I did a little bit of research about wave physics, and all that helped me to understand the text of the holocube better. The obelisk is the doorway to the mine, as we guessed, but it's activated and controlled by this." He pointed at the picture of the hand-held device.
"So it is the key," Sam said.
"It's musical," Jonas said, eagerly. "The colors of the keys represent the pitch they create. I'm not sure what the keys underneath do," he confessed. "I haven't tried those yet."
"But how are we to use this information to open the obelisk?" Teal'c asked. "Are there not an infinite number of combinations that may be employed with this device?"
"True. I'm not sure about that yet, but that's why I wanted to try and talk to General Hammond today. The holocube does indicate that turning on the control console of the obelisk isn't a problem. All you have to do is turn this thing on, and—" he gestured with a hand as if he were using the hand device.
"Pick a note, any note," Sam finished.
"I'm hoping that if we can accomplish that much, we can learn more."
"Sounds good. We can talk to him today. Maybe set something up when Colonel O'Neill gets back. Did you figure out what this one does?" she asked, pointing at a picture of the headphones.
"Still working on that one too," he confessed. "By the way, did SG-8 ever find any trinium?" Jonas asked.
Sam shook her head around another bite of her breakfast. "No," she said after she swallowed. "As of now, this lead on the Ancient device is the only reason we're continuing to explore the planet. The trinium hopes have pretty much washed out at this point."
"Bummer," said Jonas. "So what's for breakfast today?" He twisted around to look back at the line. "Are they doing the blueberry waffles again anytime soon?"
"You mean you're asking us?" Sam asked with a laugh. She glanced curiously at Jonas's papers again and shuffled them off the top of his book. "Jonas, what are you reading?" She held up the book and looked at him with a highly amused expression.
"Oh," he said, "Amelia lent it to me. It's really good ! I'm just about done with it, though."
"Harry Potter?" Sam asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Is there something wrong with that?" he asked slowly, eyeing them with confusion.
Teal'c looked nonplussed. He seemed to be much more interested in his bacon than in the subject of their conversation. Sam only laughed again. "No," she said. She flipped through the book's covers. "I'm not much of a reader, but I hear they're pretty popular."
"It's certainly more interesting than reading Doctor Fraiser's medical journals through for the third time," Jonas said.
"I can imagine," Sam said. "So...do you like her, then?"
"Amelia?"
"Well, yeah. I mean, if you've gotten to know her well enough to ask to borrow books..."
"She's really nice," Jonas said. "I like her very much. Why?"
"I guess I'm a little bit curious. I know you're a pretty open-minded person, but Colonel O'Neill's right. Due to our past experience, the rest of us can't help but be kind of wary, considering her family connections."
Jonas shrugged. "Hasn't bothered me. Certainly doesn't seem to bother her." He stood up. "I'm getting something to eat."
Due to the fact that nearly the entire Tretonin supply had been lost in the accident, and that Malek had been prematurely called away the very same day, Doctor Fraiser informed Amelia that she was unwilling to begin a treatment on her own yet. "Malek said he'll be back soon. If worse comes to worst, I'd rather save the sample we have as a fallback. In the meantime, I'm going to continue your chemotherapy treatments."
Amelia had cried a long time that night.
After the first round of chemo, she hadn't felt like doing very much. Now she was beginning to recover, but still didn't feel like doing very much, for her spirits were decidedly low. However, she had promised Jonas yet another violin lesson, and as she knew it was probably better she kept up some measure of activity in her life, she packed up her instrument and headed upstairs to his lab for their appointment.
When she got there, he was not alone. The big alien named Teal'c was with him, and Amelia took an almost reflexive step backwards when she first saw him. He was rather intimidating, and she'd never been so close to him before. The sound of her footfall caused the two men to look up.
"Amelia," said Jonas, smiling. He glanced at his clock. "Wow, I didn't realize it was time already." Then he looked back at her, puzzled. "What did you do to your hair?"
For the first time in days, Amelia smiled. She'd put on a new wig, this one with longer, straight, dark auburn-colored hair. It changed her whole face completely. "I thought it was time for a change," she said.
He still looked puzzled. "Then you—" he looked to Teal'c, as if for help, but receiving none looked back at Amelia.
"Chemotherapy makes you lose hair," she said simply.
Sudden clarity came rushing into Jonas's green eyes. "Right!" he said, almost overenthusiastically. "I knew that, I just… you took me by surprise. So that's not...real, then?"
"Nope," she said, setting the instrument on his worktable. "My real head looks a lot like General Hammond's or—" she glanced hesitatingly at Teal'c and stopped, blushing slightly.
The Jaffa gave a small nod of his head, and she detected amusement in his expression. "I do not believe we have formally made one another's acquaintance, Amelia Kinsey," he said.
"Really?" asked Jonas, looking up. He had been halfway finished opening a candy bar from his pocket.
"No," said Amelia. She looked at Teal'c. "I've read a lot about you, Mr. Teal'c," she said. "In the mission reports they let me read. I find it all very interesting. I'm honored to meet you."
"As am I," he replied, nodding again. "What is this device you bring?" he then asked, resting his gaze upon her violin case.
"Music," she said with a smile.
"Amelia's teaching me to play," Jonas said helpfully, though his words were muffled by his chewing.
"Jonas, is the food really bad on Kelowna?" Amelia asked him with an ironic smile.
He frowned and swallowed. "No. Why?"
She laughed and shook her head. "Never mind." Snapping open the latches on the violin case, she looked back at Teal'c. "Here, I'll show you," she said.
After a few bars of a bright, lively reel, the Jaffa seemed more interested in the instrument and inclined for conversation. "I believe O'Neill favors much of this type of music," he commented. "I must confess I prefer to see it played such as this rather than merely listening to Tau'ri recordings."
Amelia studied him curiously and sat down on the nearest stool. "What sort of music do Jaffa have?" she asked.
"Music and songs are an important part of Jaffa culture," he said knowingly. "There are many songs which inspire courage and help to focus the mind before engaging in battle. There are also songs of lament for fallen warriors."
"Are there any for love as well?" Amelia asked.
"Yes."
"I didn't know you liked music so much, Teal'c," said Jonas surprisingly.
"I do not favor music as do some of my fellow Jaffa," said Teal'c. "My life has taken other paths. But I do appreciate the role it has played in the history and culture of my people." He nodded at the violin. "We do not have such instruments as these, however. Traditional Jaffa instruments are usually small and durable. The most common are those which are blown or beaten."
"Woodwinds and percussion," Amelia said, smiling.
"Indeed."
"We have something like a violin on Kelowna," Jonas said.
"Really?" Amelia asked with interest. She was finding herself enjoying this conversation immensely, surprised she'd never taken an interest in offworld music before now. It was a welcome reprieve from her gloomy disposition of the past few days. "How come you've never mentioned it?"
He shrugged. "Never thought of it, really. It's called a vitaraung," he said, taking the violin from Amelia. "It's shaped differently, actually closer in proportion to your dulcimer, but it's small like a violin and played with a bow. You hold it on our knee." He demonstrated by propping the violin upright on his own knee and scratching out a couple notes before handing it back to Amelia. "Bow's a lot shorter, too," he added.
"I can understand that," Amelia said thoughtfully, trying to play her violin like a vitaraung as Jonas had described. "In this position, a long bow would be a bit cumbersome. But that sounds really cool," she added. "Kind of like a cross between a violin and a cello."
"Yeah, except you can't play it standing up," Jonas said. "I never studied music on Kelowna, but I think the fingering might be totally different on a vitaraung, too."
"I'd like to see that someday," Amelia said eagerly.
A flash of sadness swept suddenly over Jonas's features and he looked at the floor awkwardly. Amelia felt like kicking herself. "I'm sorry," she mumbled.
"No problem," he said.
"If you will excuse me, Jonas Quinn," Teal'c said, breaking up the awkwardness to some extent. "I will leave you to your lesson."
"Thanks, Teal'c. Hey, have fun, okay? Say hi to Ry'ac for me."
"I shall. Good day, Amelia Kinsey."
"Bye, Teal'c."
When Teal'c was gone, Amelia turned to Jonas. "Who's Ry'ac?" she asked.
"His son," Jonas replied simply.
"Oh," said Amelia, taking a moment to digest this surprising tidbit of information. Not sure what to say to that, she asked, "So does it ever hurt? I mean, that Teal'c gets to go home and you can't?" She wasn't sure what possessed her to ask such a personal question, but the words seemed almost to spill out of their own accord. She winced.
Jonas didn't seem offended. "Technically, Teal'c actually can't go home either," he said, his voice thoughtful. "Chulak is deep in heavily occupied Goa'uld territory. But his family was rescued from there a long time ago and they've lived various places ever since, mostly with the other rebel Jaffa. I think Ry'ac's been traveling around with Teal'c's Master, Bra'tac, ever since his mother died."
"Do you have a family, Jonas?" Amelia asked softly.
He gave a weak smile, but it was not really a happy one. "No," he said. "I was an only child, and my parents died not long after I got out of school, within a year of each other. I was born kind of late in their lives, and totally unexpected. By that time," he said with a sigh, "I was already becoming completely devoted to my work with the government. I didn't think about much else."
"So you never married or—" Amelia trailed off.
"No. I guess I figured I had time enough for that sort of thing, you know?" He looked thoughtful. "But when I stop and think about it, maybe it was for the best. I'm not sure I would have been able to make the choice I did if I'd had such strong ties back home. I'm still amazed Teal'c was able to do it."
"Are you happy here?"
"On a day to day basis, yes. It's a fulfilling life, but I just wish my future was a little less uncertain." As he spoke, he traced the edge of the table idly with his fingers, not looking at her as he spoke. "I'm content, but I've never really felt like I belonged here. It's like I just...exist. I just live from day to day, because there's nothing else to do." He looked up. "What about you?"
"What about me?"
"Are you happy?"
His eyes were gentle and intent, the genuine concern so profound that it took Amelia by surprise. Her stomach flipped a little. Happy? she asked herself.
"I think in some ways I'm in the same situation," she said slowly, trying to ignore the weird feeling she was having. "Granted, I still have my family, but I don't necessarily have my life anymore. I was happy, and I think I can be again— if I survive this— but right now I'm sort of...in limbo."
"Well, the Tretonin's gonna take care of all that, right?" Jonas asked with an encouraging smile.
She returned it weakly. "Here's hoping," she said.
"I think it will work out fine, Amelia," he said earnestly. "Should we get started?"
His sudden change of subject seemed to jar her back to reality. "Oh!" she said, taking note of the instrument still clutched in her hands. "Right. Where were we?"
Jonas had been progressing remarkably well in their handful of lessons. Before long, she would have to start teaching him to read music. Perhaps she could order a couple of books online.
She had taught him first position and was well into a thorough explanation of whole steps and half steps when a young airman knocked on the door, interrupting the lesson.
"Miss Kinsey?" he asked, standing stiffly at attention. "Teal'c said I would be able to find you here."
"Yes, what is it?" she asked, lowering her hands from where she'd been shifting Jonas's fingers on the fingerboard.
"I'm sorry to interrupt, ma'am, but I'm afraid I have some bad news."
"What's wrong?" she asked, taking a confused step towards him.
"Your father's been assassinated."
A/N: Um... not much to comment on. Believe it or not, the delay was due to the fact that I needed to sit down and find a new Sonnet for this chapter. Turns out the one I used originally I've used already for chapter five in the revision. For some reason this chapter was really hard to match.
Chapter Eight might be a bit of a delay, because I still need to type it up and there are eighteen pages. :-P
Enjoy!
