"So have you received any new reports, George? Have there been any other sightings?"
Hammond shook his head, even though he was talking on the phone and the person on the other line couldn't see it.
"No, Mr. President. NORAD hasn't been able to find the ship – or any others – any where within their tracking range."
"Well, that's good news, I suppose."
"Yes, sir."
There was a tired sigh on the other end of the line.
"Of course, it's the only good news I have, right?"
"Sir?"
"I have leaders from pretty much every nation on earth calling me and asking if I have any idea what's going on – and if the ship that the entire world saw is one of ours."
"I can understand how that would be difficult, sir."
There was a chuckle from the other end.
"You have a knack for understatement sometimes, George…"
"I'm sorry, Mr. President. Is there anything I can do to help?"
"You can be ready to receive several important guests within the next twenty-four hours."
"Oh?"
"I'm calling a summit. The Stargate program is about to become news, and there are definitely a few leaders who deserve to hear the news from us, first – before CNN gets hold of it, any ways."
Hammond leaned back in his chair, already starting to consider the ramifications of that.
"How many are you inviting, sir?"
"Oh, it should be an intimate group of at least a couple dozen. And they'll probably need overnight accommodations."
"Yes, sir. And yourself?"
"I think I'll stay with you at your place."
Hammond smiled – one of the first smiles since this whole thing started.
"Yes, sir. I'll turn down the blankets in the guest room."
Hayes laughed on the other end – a much needed break from the seriousness that he'd been stuck with all day, too.
"Expect us sometime this evening," he said. "We'll land at the Air Force Academy and come straight here."
"And the others?"
"I don't know, George. I'm sure they'll be here as soon as they can. We'll hammer out the rest of the details once the invitations are extended."
"Yes, sir."
"Keep in touch – and if anything happens, let me know immediately."
"I will, Mr. President."
The line went dead, and Hammond sighed and hung up his phone as well.
"Problems?" Jacob Carter asked.
He was sitting in one of the chairs on the other side of Hammond's desk, where he had been before the President had called.
"The Stargate program is about to go public, I believe…"
Carter's eyes widened.
"Really?"
"Maybe. It certainly sounds that way. The President is coming in tonight – and he's inviting an assortment of world leaders to join him here for a summit regarding the Goa'uld ship – and presumably the Goa'uld. Which will, of course, lead to the questions; how did we find out about the Goa'uld in the first place."
"And why did we keep it all a secret…" Jacob added.
Hammond nodded.
"It's going to get messy, that's for certain."
"Should I go?"
Hammond hesitated, and then shrugged.
"It's up to you, really. Our relationship with the Tok'ra will probably come out – but I'm not so sure the world is ready to know about Selmac."
Of course, he could just stay and be retired General Jacob Carter if he wanted to.
"I'll wait around until Sam comes back," Jacob decided. "If nothing's happened by then it probably won't happen right away, and I'll head back and see if we've got any news you can use."
"The more the better with the President and the others coming in," Hammond said.
Jacob nodded, and looked at his watch.
"They should be getting close…"
"Last I heard, they were only half an hour out from the Academy."
"I think I'll go topside and meet them," Jacob said, standing up. "What about you?"
"I have to arrange quarters for a large group of VIPs. Tell them to report as soon as possible when they arrive."
"Okay."
OOOOOOOOOO
The landing was a greaser, but it felt like the fighter was going to fall apart any minute to Ian. He wasn't complaining, though. Especially once they came to a stop and there was a hissing as the cockpit regulated its atmosphere and the hydraulic systems all turned off at the same time.
Copeland turned to look in the mirror at his passenger.
"How are you doing?"
"I'm fine."
He was just queasy and felt like he'd left his stomach – and pretty much every other organ in his abdomen – at 15,000 feet. The descent had been a pretty steep one when they'd come in for their landing.
Copeland didn't look exactly convinced. The Lieutenant was so pale he looked transparent, his eyes were a bit glassy, and there were beads of sweat on his upper lip and cheeks – which was all that the Major could see of his face with the helmet on. But he hadn't tossed his cookies in the cockpit, for which Copeland was extremely grateful.
"We'll get you out in just a minute, Lieutenant."
Ian just nodded, and took a few deep breaths. He was never going to fucking fly again. Ever. Even if it meant making a transporter beam like the Asgard had and carrying the bastard thing with him everywhere he went.
"How ya doing, Ian?"
Jack's voice came over his earpiece, and Ian looked to the right where the other fighter had landed. He could quite clearly see Sam and Jack both looking over at him from their cockpit.
"Great…"
Just fucking great.
Jack smiled, clearly not fooled.
"We'll meet you on the tarmac in a few minutes."
"Yeah."
Copeland was as good as his word. He was quick to call the ground crew over to help him with his post flight check of the plane, and then just as quick to motion for them to help Ian out of the plane first. Strong hands half lifted him up and out, and he found himself standing on shaky legs at the top of a small rolling stairway, much like the one he'd used to get in the fighter in the first place. Maybe Tom Cruise could hop off the wing of his airplane, but Ian was lucky if his legs even held him up.
He stumbled on the way down, but managed to catch himself, and even managed to fight off the urge to crumble to the tarmac. Instead, he stood there, waiting for Sam and Jack to join him – which they did almost immediately. As did Major Copeland.
Sam frowned when she saw just how bad Ian looked up close, but she didn't say anything about it. Instead she turned to Copeland.
"Thanks for the help, Major."
Copeland smiled.
"Any time."
Before Sam could say anything else, several vehicles drove up. The fueling trucks and the maintenance truck were obviously for the planes, but the other two were passenger cars – and one was driven by Hammond's Aide de camp, who got out immediately and headed for them.
"Colonel O'Neill? General Hammond asks that you go straight to the base, sir."
"You're driving?" Jack asked.
"Yes, sir. The other car is for Major Copeland, here, sir."
Copeland smiled.
"I could use a shower and a bite to eat," he said, not at all upset at being excluded from whatever it was that was going on. He didn't have the need to know, and that didn't hurt his feelings at all. He'd spend the night here at the Academy and then find a wheelman for the flight home tomorrow.
Jack nodded, and offered Copeland his hand.
"Thanks, Major."
"Any time, sir." Copeland turned to Ian. "Are you going to be okay, Lieutenant?"
"He'll be fine," Sam said. "He's just not much for flying."
And wasn't that just an understatement?