24: Holt

There was something distinctly off-putting about these aliens. Maybe it was their purple-red exoskeletons, or the fact they had no 'mouth' or 'eyes' in the traditional sense. In their case, the mouth was a narrow, vertical slit flanked by a pair of short mandibles. Their eyes, if they could even be considered such, were little more than a narrow black slit. They appeared encased in some sort of biomechanical shell, armour that was as much a part of them as their veins and neurons. Almost crustacean, Holt noted, and he found himself looking at one of them directly in the narrow, black 'slit' where the eyes should have been. It was no wonder they spent most of their time here disguised as humans, utilising their very sophisticated holographic technology to do so.

Here and now, they had no need for the disguises. The warehouse interior was mostly empty, little more than a large open floor flanked by tall, sheet-metal walls. And in the middle, there stood Holt and his trio of bodyguards, men in black unmarked uniforms carrying submachine guns. Holt himself was in his own black business suit, a necessity when working out in the open. There was a table in front of him, placed between him and the pair of 'mimetic' aliens.

There was no official name for this species, so it was either 'mimetic' aliens in regards to their holographic disguises, or the 'foothold' aliens because they had established an actual foothold in stargate command once many years ago. Neither of them had names, although Holt had taken to considering the larger, darker one on the left as 'Purple' and the slightly smaller one to the right of him as 'Slim'. They were fanatics, by and large, followers of the dead Field Marshall who had attacked the SGC, Area 51 and Las Vegas roughly eighteen months before. Such attacks were the reason stargate command was back to its full operating status, and that in turn was part of the reason Holt's own superiors had become increasingly concerned.

Holt had gone before the Old Man and pushed for direct action. However, his boss had simply told him to 'wait and see'. Even in response to the loss of the Broadsword, he had kept that approach. It frustrated Holt to no end, and so he had taken some initiative by arranging a meeting with a couple of alien terrorists.

These two had been stranded on Earth since their Field Marshall had died. Purple and Slim had fled into rural Colorado, after having escaped stargate command during their raid. Since then, they had routinely caused trouble, attacking police officers, stealing guns and generally being a nuisance. They made sure to be disguised when they did such actions, going on with their personal crime sprees, moving from place-to-place and changing their holographic disguises whenever their previous one became too well-known. As a result, the authorities had never been able to get near these two, all the while remaining oblivious to the fact that Purple and Slim were from another planet.

Holt had his own sources, and Purple and Slim had caught his attention some months ago. He had put a few of his own people on their case, keeping track of the pair. They were getting desperate, it seemed, and they had also acquired a healthy stockpile of stolen wealth. Some of that was upon the table before them now, stuffed into a sizeable suitcase, ranging from gold and silver bars and coins stolen from banks and the like across middle America. Looking at it all now, Holt had to surmise there to be a couple of hundred thousand dollars' worth. These two had been productive, stealing metals instead of paper money. It seemed that where they were from, paper money was not actually a thing.

"I have to say, you two have brought in an impressive haul." Holt found himself squinting slightly as the afternoon sun streamed in through the high windows above. Purple and Slim said nothing, in fact they did not say much of anything at all. Purple had a small translator device around his neck, but even with that he remained an alien of few words.

"And, as I promised, I have brought you what you want." Holt motioned to the bodyguard at his left. The man was carrying a large, black case. He set it upon the table and popped it open, revealing the pair of prototype energy weapons inside. "These two are based on Jaffa staff weapons. They are powerful, with a near limitless supply of energy. With them you'll both be unstoppable." He paused, looking to the pair to gauge their reactions. It was impossible to tell with these two, although from the way in which Purple's mandibles twitched, he had to assume that they were pleased. He had learned, from his surveillance of these two, that their own energy weapons had run out of charge early on during their crime spree. From then, they had relied upon locally sourced firearms. To have two very efficient and very powerful 'staff rifles' at their disposal would help them immeasurably.

They would also help Holt, as both contained elaborate GPS-tracking devices that would allow him to keep better track of the pair. And with that information, he could control them, even guide them. These two would become his own personal assassins, he only had to bide his time and get them to like him enough.

Slim reached into the case and picked up one of the long rifles. It was a black-metal utilitarian weapon, with a long barrel and an inert yellow indicator by the trigger. Slim sighted down the weapon's scope, adjusting it with one hand, fingering the trigger but not firing.

"You'll need the power pack for each, of course," Holt said, and he pulled the two small, innocuous rectangular items from his jacket. "No shooting now. I wouldn't want any misfires." The implication was clear: he had depowered the weapons so these two aliens would not feel the sudden urge to shoot him. Besides, he had another man hidden watching them from up high, specifically through the window of the raised office within the warehouse. This observer had Purple and Slim set firmly in the sights of his rifle.

"Hand over the goods, and both are yours." Holt motioned for Slim, who very reluctantly put the rifle back into the case. Holt then tucked in the pair of power packs with it, before he closed the case and latched it shut. "Do we have a deal?" He might have put out a hand for them to shake, as one often does when making a deal. However, he had no intention of clasping hands with either of these freaks.

Purple exchanged glances with Slim. He said something that to Holt was indiscernible, for it sounded to be little more than a low, guttural croak. Slim nodded his head, before he shoved the case containing the stolen precious metals across the table towards Holt. With a smile, Holt closed the suitcase and picked it up by the handle. In turn, Slim picked up the case containing the pair of prototype rifles.

"Remember, you want anything else, you get in touch. You know how." The pair of aliens looked to him, with Purple uttering another low croak, before the pair turned around and started for the exit. Holt watched them leave, thinking of how upset they will be when both those 'limitless' power packs turned out to be duds. Sure, they would be good for several shots, but after that? Purple and Slim would come crawling back, demanding replacements. And Holt would be happy to provide them, as long as the pair did a few tasks for him in return.

As the aliens left, Holt felt his phone vibrating in his pocket. He pulled it out, glimpsing the familiar number that was flashing upon the display. He frowned before he started walking away from his bodyguards, putting some distance between himself and his lackeys as to provide some privacy to the conversation.

"What is it?" Phone to his ear, he waited for the caller to respond.

"There's been an intrusion, Mister Holt." The man on the other end was an associate of his who worked for him in the NID. The job of Deputy Director there had placed Holt in a very useful position, one that allowed him access to information many were not normally privy too. That included anything to do with the stargate program or Homeworld Command.

"What do you mean?"

"Someone broke into your office a couple of hours ago. A fire alarm was sounded and they snuck in when everyone else was clearing the building."

Holt frowned. He was not sure how worried he should be about this.

"Was there a fire at all?"

"There's no evidence of anything of the kind."

"Then it was a cover for the break-in." Now he felt some legitimate concern. Someone had targeted him. "Do we know who did it? The alarm and the break-in?"

"Well, the surveillance footage from that part of the building was lost in a computer glitch." Holt could believe this, if only because anyone breaking into his office in NID headquarters would have been smart enough to cover their tracks. "However, we pulled some fingerprints off of your desk and computer. Most are yours, a few are from your secretary and then there is one set that stands out."

"Go on…"

"Your notebook was tampered with. The fingerprints on there belong to Doctor Daniel Jackson, who signed into the building at reception about forty minutes before the alarm was sounded."

Doctor Daniel Jackson. Holt knew the name; he had needed to for his line of work. The man was a legend in some circles. He was also a troublemaker, and this time around was no different.

"Thank you for the heads-up," Holt stated, and already the gears in his head were turning, ideas as to how to rectify this situation morphing into plans. "I'll need to make some phone calls. You look into things at your end."

"Of course, sir." With that, his associate ended the call. Holt began to dial another number straight away. If Daniel Jackson was after information on him, then it could only mean that he and his compatriots had caught wind of his involvement in the stargate program's woes over the past several years. Among them, funding that had once been intended for the SGC had instead been siphoned off towards the construction of the Broadsword. There was also the shutdown of the Atlantis expedition, another thing Doctor Jackson and his do-gooder friends would no doubt have had issues with.

Holt put the phone to his ear again, with the one at the other end of the line ringing a couple of times before it was picked up.

"It's Holt," he announced. "I need hunters. Could be one man, could be a few. Targets are dangerous. Bring them in alive, if it's practical." He paused, waiting a moment as the person on the other end noted all of this down. "Doctor Daniel Jackson, SGC. He is likely to have accomplices. Find him, bring him in. I'll consult with the Old Man about what to do with him after that." The 'Old Man' would likely advise caution. Holt, on the other hand, was past the point of caution. It had been Doctor Jackson and his friends in SG-1 who had caused them to lose the Broadsword, and that had been a project Holt had devoted much of his time towards over the past several years. Its loss was his biggest failure, and if he could put an end to those who had caused him that failure, then he would happily snatch up that opportunity.


Evening had fallen over the east coast. McKay, Daniel and Teal'c had taken refuge in a cheap motel along one of the major highways winding away from Washington DC and south towards the city of Richmond, Virginia. All three were in the same room, with two single beds on offer and a modest kitchen and living area. McKay was seated at the single table there, laptop in front of him whilst he searched through the data recovered from Holt's office. Teal'c loitered near the window, the blinds over it closed, yet the Jaffa kept a close eye on what little of the outside could be seen. Every so often, he would separate a couple of the flimsy plastic blinds and peer into the car park.

The television was switched on. There, an old Western played, with gunfire and shouting carrying through the cheap television's speaker with a slightly tinny quality. Daniel was seated at the end of one of the beds, feeling a little better now that he had showered and changed into a fresh set of trousers and a clean shirt.

McKay rubbed at his eyes. The screen before him seemed hazy, and he realised that was more because he was tired than anything else. There was a lot to get through, much of it dull technical stuff, including plenty of NID reports that pertained to cases that were not at all relevant to what they were looking for. It had become apparent that the real interesting stuff, those things Conrad Holt would have preferred to keep to himself, were buried under a sea of mostly ordinary NID files. McKay's device had essentially cloned the hard drive on Holt's computer, copying everything no matter if it was a temporary file or something properly saved upon it. That included any emails that happened to be lingering on the man's computer, and it was through these that McKay had turned his attention.

It was all a bit too much for someone who had spent the better part of seven years living as a recluse. McKay needed some sleep, and he ran a hand through his hair as he skimmed through yet another ordinary email. It was about some NID case, and it had nothing to do with the stargate program, or anyone involved in it. No, McKay had to go deeper, and once he started doing that he found himself stumbling upon names he recognized. There were only a handful of them, but they were the names of prominent politicians and corporate CEOs, all of whom Holt had been corresponding with. One company, Sword Exports, seemed especially important.

"Daniel, you ever hear of Sword Exports?" McKay looked up then, turning to Daniel who had been watching the television. The name did appear to strike some recognition with him, and Daniel rose to his feet and walked over to where McKay was seated.

"I have, actually." Daniel wiped his glasses with the end of one sleeve before he set them back over his eyes. He peered at the computer screen, seeing the name there on one of the more recent emails. "Colonel O'Neill and General Janssen looked into them after that business with Darren McClintock." Daniel frowned, realising that McKay would not know the name. "It's complicated, but Holt got involved. They met him, warned them off and sent them on their way after they broke into a Sword Exports warehouse."

"Holt has a sizeable investment in them," McKay said.

"I bet he does. What else is there?"

"A lot of important politicians. Holt's been speaking to some powerful people. From the look of it, he's been doing so on behalf of someone else. Never names them, only calls them the 'old man'."

"Not naming them is a wise security decision." It was Teal'c who said this, and he turned from the window to look towards the pair. "Some of those other people, however, may offer us further information."

"I don't understand what this has to do with what happened to me," McKay countered, and he shook his head. "All I see here is an intelligence operative with powerful connections. That's not exactly unusual."

"Is there anything more on the 'old man'?" Daniel asked him.

McKay ran a quick search of the correspondences he had found. The term came up several times, but there were no specifics provided. Something else did catch his eye, and he pointed it out to Daniel, who leaned forwards to read the passage indicated.

"Looks like there's some kind of important meeting," McKay said. He had a feeling that this might have been their best lead, even if he was still unsure of just what to make of it all. They had gone on a flimsy lead to start with, and even sitting here reading through Holt's correspondences had him feeling uneasy. In fact, he had not been able to shake a certain uneasiness since they had left Washington DC. Every so often, his paranoia would ratchet right up, and it was sometimes what lead to similar episodes to the one that had occurred earlier at his cabin, when he had drawn a gun on Daniel. It was driven by what he had seen through that window he had opened at Atlantis, the abyss that had threatened to swallow him whole and now took precedence in his dreams. That void, and that was what it was, he was sure of it; that void which his experiments had opened may have been closed off, had been almost as soon as he had looked into it, and yet he could not escape the feeling that some small piece of it had clung to him somehow. It seemed like superstitious nonsense, and he might have written it off had this been seven years ago. Now, he was not so sure.

That paranoia, that intrinsic sense that something was not quite right, was what he felt now as he sifted through Holt's emails. Perhaps that indicated some kind of underlying relevance. However, he leaned more towards the fact that it was a warning, a gut instinct telling him that further pursuit of this would only lead to grave danger. Yet, he could not back out, not when he had the support of Daniel and Teal'c who appeared more aware of what was going on than even he did. And if they could lead him to the people responsible for Keller's death, then all the more reason to stick to this trail. Maybe he could finally get the heat off of him, put a stop to the people who had been after him, whoever they were. Holt certainly seemed to have something to do with them.

"Any details?" Daniel asked.

"Doesn't look like it. I'll have to do more digging." In truth, McKay was tired. He needed some rest, and he did not fancy spending most of the night awake searching through Holt's files. Daniel must have felt the same way, given what he said next:

"You do what you can, but if you want to sleep then go ahead. It's been a long day and I sure need the rest myself." Daniel checked his watch. "You mind keeping an eye out, Teal'c? We'll change over in four hours."

Teal'c gave a curt nod in acknowledgment. McKay did not know the Jaffa well, but he got the impression that Teal'c did not need too much sleep himself. He did not seem to mind taking on the watch duty, even if he had been doing just that since they had got here.

"Daniel, you know this is a crime, right?" The notion cropped up in McKay's mind then, and he looked back to Daniel. "We hacked a federal agent's computer."

"Yes, I know." Daniel did not sound terribly concerned. "Why?"

"Well, it's just that he could put the police on us. Holt doesn't have to come after us himself."

"No, he doesn't. But that's only if he knows we did it. Like I said, Barrett helped cover our tracks. He's a friend, and he'll do what he can to slow Holt's investigation. Hopefully that will be long enough for us to get to the bottom of what's really going on. I think this 'old man' he keeps referring to must be his boss. Probably the one behind the whole thing, even what happened to you.

For someone who had committed a federal crime earlier today, Daniel was strangely unfazed. He knew what they had done and he had deemed it necessary for the greater good. If there was a powerful group of people plotting to use alien technology to control the Earth, then they would find them and stop them. McKay was sure of it, he had simply been unable to get solid confirmation. Now that he had help, it appeared his odds of succeeding at this crusade for the truth had significantly increased.

Daniel, meanwhile, readied himself for sleep. As he laid back on the cheap mattress, staring up at the ceiling, he wondered how John and the others were faring. At least in their case, determining who the 'bad guys' were was made easy, for they had marched into a warzone. Here, for Daniel and McKay and Teal'c, they were plunging headlong into a world of distrust and conspiracy. Anyone they met could be working against them. Very few, if any, could be trusted completely. For all the work Daniel and the others in the stargate program had done to protect Earth from outside threats, it pained him to see that some of the greatest enemies they faced were right here at home.