Chapter 11: Off the Grid

CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN BASE - SGC - STAR GATE CONTROL ROOM

General Landry rushes up the stairs to his office and heads to where Walter is sitting, dialing the door to the main console.

"Chevron four encoded."

"Chief, how long are they overdue now?"

"Two hours, Sir. Colonel Mitchell's never missed a check in."

On the screen in front of Walter, the fifth symbol for the door address comes into place.

"Chevron five encoded."

Colonel Reynolds appears behind General Landry.

"General Landry, Sir. I just spoke with Doctor Lee. He's determined the plant contains a highly addictive psycho-stimulant."

"Which just confirms what we already knew."

"But we didn't know it was engineered, which means that it didn't evolve naturally."

"Chevron six encoded.". General Landry looks at the stargate as his inner ring spins, then stops.

"Chevron seven will not lock."

"Why not?"

"I'm not sure, Sir, I'm not showing any malfunction at this end."

"Run a diagnostic and try again."

"Yes, Sir."

CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN BASE - SGC - GENERAL LANDRY'S OFFICE

Hank usually enjoyed his conversations with Jack O'Neill, but when it came to SG1 and their endangerment, the conversations were anything but pleasant. Jack O'Neill was particularly protective of his former team.

"How long have they been missing?"

"Over two hours. Any attempt to connect to the gate will fail before the seventh chevron is engaged." A tense silence lingered on the line.

"Send the Odyssey to the planet."

"Jack, the Odyssey is still in the testing phase and the hyper..."

"Hank, it wasn't a suggestion. SG1 is in danger, we're not leaving anyone behind. Emerson will be leaving to scout with his crew, within the hour."

The connection was abruptly cut off. Jack O'Neill had abruptly hung up the phone, cutting off all negotiations. Hank sighed and put the receiver down. There was no arguing with the head of Homeland Security's orders, even when you disagreed with them. The Odyssey was their last defense ship after the Prometheus exploded, so it wasn't fully operational yet. But orders were orders.

WASHINGTON - HOMELAND SECURITY - OFFICE OF GENERAL JACK O'NEILL

The handset landed hard on its base. Julia Hoswald winced on the other side of the partition as she heard the thud of the battered handset. Obviously SG1 was in danger. It was only when the team was in danger, when the general had no news of them, that General Jack O'Neill would lose his temper. During the last mission, when the Earth had lost all contact with the Prometheus, its transmitter had abruptly stopped transmitting after Colonel Pendergast had made a last call to Earth to signal that the ship was under attack and in distress. Lieutenant Hoswald had seen something in her superior's eyes. General O'Neill had held on, he was in the situation room, decisions had to be made by him but, she had seen something. It was as if any spark of life had been blown out of his eyes. It had suddenly gone out. And Hoswald knew why. Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter was aboard the Prometheus. And if the Prometheus had ceased to exist, so had Samantha Carter. She had been under the Brigadier General orders for over six months, she liked the man and the military. He had thought of giving a gift to his subordinate's daughter at Christmas, he thanked her when she stayed late to support him. He was a good man, marked by life. O'Neill was happy when he arrived in Washington, and Julia had quickly realized that this happiness was largely due to his relationship with Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter. She had organized her trips to Washington almost every weekend for five months. She didn't say anything but, she knew. At Homeland Security everyone knew about SG1's exploits, everyone knew what the Earth owed them. She guessed that the relationship between her superior and the scientist was recent. Outside the chain of command, they had had the opportunity to live their relationship. Julia was happy for the General. In his office, the photos of SG1, of Cassandra, of his dead son were exposed to the shelter of the eyes, on the side of the desk that only Jack O'Neill could see. But since the appearance of the Ori in their Galaxy, something had changed. Jack O'Neill's equilibrium had changed. He was bored with work, sometimes even sleeping in his office. He was darker, more agitated, more angry. Jack O'Neill's balance had shifted.

CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN BASE - SGC - CORRIDOR

Walter and General Landry walk quickly to the control room.

"We've made repeated attempts to connect, Sir. There's no signal whatsoever. There's got to be a problem with the off-world gate."

"Get me Colonel Emerson on board the Odyssey."

"Yes sir, right away."

SOMEWHERE IN THE UNIVERSE - P6G-452 - WORREL CAMP

"And until my Stargate is returned to me, things will continue to go wrong."

The SG-1 team was strapped to a bench. Their hands were restrained behind their backs and leather choke chains chained their necks to the wooden backrest. They had been interrogated again and again, together. Their faces bore the marks of those blows and bloody gashes. Thirst was beginning to set in, Cameron's attempts to draw attention to himself were not working. Worrel was no fool, he understood that the SG1 Leader could not stand to see his comrades being tortured. Samantha bore more marks of blow than Teal'c and Daniel, Worrel seemed to think that it was she who would crack first, or who would make Cameron crack. She took it stoically. She gritted her teeth, didn't scream, didn't whimper, much to the chagrin of Worrel's men. She just took it. Her thoughts drifted as she was hit in the face for the nth time. She felt the skin crack at the level of her cheekbone. She winced.

"For the last time, where is my stargate?" Worrel stood over her, menacing. She spat the small amount of blood in her mouth at his feet, she had bitten her tongue on the impact of the fist against her cheek.

"For the nth time, we don't know!" Daniel was losing patience, Sam straightened up, resuming a more upright position on the bench, the leather collar around her neck had bitten her skin painfully. Worrel walked away in the company of his men, seeming to hold a conciliation on the manners to employ.

"Sam, are you okay?" Cameron whispered as he detailed his teammate.

"Nothing too bad, a few bruises ... " She answered softly, trying to reassure him with a smile. She was forgetting that if Cameron had an unwavering admiration for the first SG1 team and had read all the mission reports, he was still "new" on the ground. "Reinforcements are on their way Cameron."

(...)

CHEYENNE MOUNTAIN BASE - SGC - GENERAL LANDRY'S OFFICE

Lieutenant Colonel Carter's report lay before Landry's eyes. Added to the pile of the rest of the SG1 team. As with every return from a mission where physical damage had been sustained, forensic photos were attached to each team member's file. Carter's face had been cleaned and stitched after her visit to the infirmary. Nevertheless, in the photos she looked pretty bad. Hank Landry sighed.

"WALTER!" The sergeant bursts into his superior officer's office seconds later.

"General?"

"Transfer the SG1 reports to the Pentagon and Washington would you."

"Right, General."

Hank crossed his arms, waiting, his eyes fixed on the phone on his desk. It was only a matter of minutes before it started ringing.

HOMELAND SECURITY - OFFICE OF GENERAL JACK O'NEILL

The report trembled under his fingers. The marks on her face, the nicks and bruises. His hand tightened even more on the report. He was no longer there to protect her, and that was perhaps the hardest part for him. Knowing that she was going on a mission, that they were all leaving, without him. That if anything happened to them, he wouldn't be able to be by their side.

"Julia?"

"Sir?"

"Put me through to General Landry."

"Yes sir."

A few minutes later, the secure communication was established.

"Jack, I've been waiting for your call."

"In what condition are they ?"

"They've seen more. But thank goodness Carter has a sharp mind... Emerson was delighted to learn that he didn't let SG1 die in Ba'al's ship. The Odyssey should be back by tomorrow. The ship has suffered but it has proven itself."

"Right. SG1 is off?"

"Yes, for a week."

"Good."

COLORADO SPRINGS - SAMANTHA CARTER'S HOUSE

She undressed with a grimace. The shower she had taken at the SGC before the debriefing had been beneficial in erasing the traces of dust and blood on her body. But, not effective enough to alleviate the pain related to the hematomas that were now blooming on her ribs. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror and the grimace on her face deepened. She had known worse. But, it was necessary to admit that the hematomas on her chest were of a beautiful purplish coloring. They had not gone there with dead hand. She approached to observe her face more closely. She would have to be careful not to wet the adhesive sutures that held the edges of the wound on her cheek in place to promote a seamless healing. The area around the cut was painful, chewing, laughing, talking was not without pain. She sighed and retrieved the tube of painkiller that Dr. Laam had prescribed from her bag. She didn't like to overdose herself with medication, but a night of pain-free sleep would be the best way for her to recover more quickly. She swallowed the pill with a little water and turned off the water in the bathtub. She had poured some bath salt in the bottom of the tub and put some music on in the background. She then placed a large glass of Diet Coke within easy reach of the bathtub. She had once again come close to death on a mission today. Her body would still bear the marks of that day in a few days and then her body would recover. But would she forget? She plunged into the water. A groan of pain escaped her, as the water hit her sides. She closed her eyes and rested her neck on the edge of the tub. The house was so quiet. She sighed and tried to relax. But stray thoughts kept looping through her mind. She had almost died twice in the last two weeks. She had almost died once more, for her country, for the Galaxy. A shrill ringing broke the calm of the room, she straightened up and grabbed the cell phone she had left within reach.

"Carter." She announced as she picked up the phone.

"It's me." Two simple words. That warm voice sent a jolt of adrenaline through her body. She didn't think he would call. She was thrown off balance. "Carter?"

"I'm here." She realized that she couldn't tell if this call was making her happy or if it was annoying her. "Why are you calling on my personnal cell phone, Sir?" She asked, all warmth had disappeared of her voice.

"Sam..." His voice was soft, soothing. "I needed to make sure you were okay. I read your mission report."

"It's all in the mission report, General." She drew her legs up against her chest. Sam nestled her face between her knees. She struggled to keep that cold, ceremonial voice in the face of his softness. But, he was the one who had pulled her away. He was the one who had told her that everything was over. He was the one who had ordered her to return to the SGC.

"Sam..." Jack O'Neill's voice was almost pleading. "I thought you were dead ... When the Prometheus exploded ... I thought you were dead. And today ... you were dead, for a few more minutes ... Sam, please. Twice in less than a few days, you've been declared 'MIA'." She closed her eyes, touched by the noticeable crack in his voice. "Sam please... open up." She abruptly opened her eyes and just as briskly got up from the tub. Grabbing her robe, she draped herself in the terrycloth and walked over to the window that looked out over the front of her house. There he stood, outside her front door, in his formal attire crumpled from hours of flying in the jump seat of a military plane. Jack eyes were raised to the lighted window. "Samantha."

She opened the door, her feet bare, shivering in her wet bathrobe. Jack quickly closed the door behind him. They were facing each other in silence, Jack in his uniform, Sam only protected by her terry bathrobe. The light of the ceiling lamp drew shadows on the face of Jack, accentuating the signs of tiredness and concern in his eyes. They were silent, devouring each other's eyes.

"Samantha." A plea, a prayer, a thank you to the gods whatever they are. Three syllables. Her name. It was enough to make Samantha flinch. He took a step forward, intertwining their legs and wrapping his arms around her. She snuggled against him, insensitive to the pain that radiated from her ribs. He breathed in her scent deeply against his hair. She understood that he cried only when she felt a tear wet her cheek. She will be it stronger between his arms. "I thought you were dead." He whispered in her ear. "I can't imagine surviving in a world without you." He pulled her away from him slightly to gaze at her, his eyes still wet with tears. His mouth sought hers. They knew that it didn't change anything between them, that there was still in the same chain of command. Nevertheless, when Jack gently took her lips, kissing her with an almost sacred fervor, Sam forgot everything. She had almost died twice in just a few weeks. Each time, her last thought had been for him. She slipped her hands under the military jacket, brushing his sides with her palms, rising on her toes so she could kiss him more deeply. "Sam." He sighed, and she placed her index finger on his lips.

"Don't say anything. Make me feel alive, Jack." He didn't hesitate. He lifted her gently into his arms and headed for the bedroom. Words had no meaning at that moment, there was only them and life. He deposited her gently on the bed, being careful to spare her injured ribs. In suspension above her, the weight of his body supported by his forearms, he kissed her more deeply. She shuddered, her legs encircled her size, bringing it closer to her. Always closer, still closer. It rectified itself and removed his jacket, he unbuttoned his shirt. Her fine fingers lost themselves along his chest, savoring the full and the untied ones of his musculature, he shuddered, retaining a groan. He bent down and slowly, he undid the belt of her bathrobe, gently revealing the curves of Lieutenant-Colonel Samantha Carter.

"Oh Sam." The complaint escaped him when he discovered the bruises that marked her ribs. Gently he placed a few kisses along the wound, making her quiver deliciously." I do not want to hurt you." He sighed. Sam made him quiet with a kiss, encouraging him to let free the contained passion that he retained, not to spare her.

"It is by staying away from me, that you hurt me... Come..."