CHAPTER TWO
Half a galaxy away, a phone rang.
Major General Jonathan 'Jack' O'Neill sat at his desk, with a thundercloud on his brow, reading his e-mail. He ignored the first two rings of the phone, staring hard at his computer monitor. The third ring seemed to startle him, like he'd just noticed the sound, and he jumped a little before testily answering the annoying ring.
"What?!"
"Is that any way to be answering the phone, General?"
The silver haired man immediately recognized the voice on the other end of the line and apologized. "Sorry, sir. I just…" His voice trailed off, and the caller finished for him.
"I take it you just read your e-mail?"
"Yes, sir. How did you know?"
"I received the same message about an hour ago."
"I see."
"I think you should know that there's no rescue mission planned."
"I see."
"The facility described by Colonel Mitchell appears to be impenetrable."
"Yes, sir."
"It would take more man and firepower than we have at our disposal to achieve success in this."
"Yes, sir."
"I know this is hard, Jack, but we have to concede they may already be lost to us."
"Yes, sir."
"The President is under pressure from the IOA, and they are unwilling to allocate resources to this at this time. We need a proper defense force for Earth right now."
"I understand, sir."
"Do you? Do you really know what I'm saying here, son?" The voice softened a bit when asking this last question, concern evident in the tone.
"Yes, sir, I do. But I also know that you wouldn't have called to tell me there's nothing I can do."
The smile coming through the phone was nearly visible. "You got that right. The President HAS authorized a small task force…unofficially, of course…maintaining plausible deniability…"
"Of course, sir."
"The task force mission would be to recon the situation and report back if a rescue is remotely possible. It is not to take any unnecessary risks or engage in the actual rescue attempt unless deemed absolutely mandatory by extreme circumstances by the commanding officer."
"I see."
"Jack, I'm too old and too long at a desk to do this…but…you know I have to tell you that you're not supposed to be involved…that the President considers you too valuable to be put in the line of fire…that if you choose to be involved, it should be in an advisory capacity…"
"I understand, sir."
"I know you do, son. But I also know what needs done here. Godspeed, and good luck."
"Thank you, sir."
With that, both men hung up their phones, and Jack O'Neill stood. He had a job to do. After a minute of pacing his office, he returned to his desk and re-read the e-mail he had received.
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Generals Hammond and O'Neill:
Forgive the intrusion and use of personal e-mail accounts. I knew of no better way to reach you with this, and I didn't want it to wait until the official channels finally decide what to do about it.
SG-1 has been captured and detained on P5X-462 while on a routine mission for intel about how far the influence and word of the Ori has spread. Apparently this planet's people know nothing of the Ori, but this planet is home to an indigenous population of xenophobes, and there are two powerful factions on the planet that are constantly at each other's throats. They live in complete paranoia. Any stranger is thought to be an agent for the other side, and treated as such. The society embraces torture as a means of getting information, and if it doesn't work, they accept the death of the captives as proper punishment for the crime of trespassing.
This information was gleaned from Colonel Mitchell, who managed to escape and get through the gate to warn us of what has happened. Mitchell is in the infirmary now, with some substantial injuries, but he should be fine. It's not clear at this time what exactly occurred on the planet, but it seems that all of SG-1 was ambushed, with no time to defend themselves. They went along peacefully with their captors at first, and Dr. Jackson attempted to communicate with them. This is how we know a little bit about their society. Mitchell did not understand the language, but Jackson seemed fairly confident things were going well. However, he apparently made some sort of mistake and offended the natives, because shortly into their captivity, the guards began shooting randomly at objects near the team, like they were trying to scare them. Several team members were injured by stray fire and debris, Mitchell among them. He was shot with some sort of weapon, and fell into a shallow ravine, sustaining a head injury and losing consciousness. Thus he was not noticed or presumed dead when the rest of the team was taken away. He was able to get to the Stargate and gate home after recovering consciousness and finding himself alone. He has no idea where the others were taken, but suspects it is a high security facility that the team scouted before encountering the enemy. I have included all information on the facility that we have from Mitchell's accounts, and video footage he shot with a portable camcorder as an attachment to this message.
I'm not sure what you can do with this information, sirs, but I thought it was important that you know. It will take time for briefings and meetings and decisions to be made, and that is time that Dr. Jackson, Colonel Carter, and Teal'c may not have. The alien woman, Vala Maldoran, was not present for this mission, as her lack of immunity to Earth viruses has finally caught up with her. She has the chicken pox and has been temporarily relieved of duty.
If there's anything you can do to help, I leave it in your capable hands.
If there is anything I can do, I offer my assistance, in any capacity.
Thank you, sirs. I hope to hear from you soon.
Best Regards,
Walter
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After his conversation with General Hammond, Jack O'Neill knew there was only one thing to be done. He had to do this. Himself. No one else could go. This would be a semi-sanctioned, rogue extraction mission. Stargate personnel involved would likely be court-martialed for disobeying orders if they participated in this. Personnel outside the SGC, in 'normal' black ops units, were not cleared for involvement. This left only those, like himself, who didn't give a rat's ass if they were punished as long as it brought those people home, and who had the approval of some of those high enough in the government to get away with a few things.
Those people…his friends…his family…Jack's thoughts turned inward as memories of the times he had spent with his team came back to him unbidden. He knew only one thing at that moment.
He had to bring them back. He had to bring them home.
There was no way he could do it alone, though. He needed a team. A small one, but at least someone to watch his back on this. Which brought up his first problem. Everyone he trusted was on that damn planet.
Well, almost everyone.
Only one possible helper came to mind as O'Neill thought it over. He kept rejecting his only idea, trying to come up with someone else. There was no one. Finally, realizing that time was indeed of the essence, he reached for his coat and put it on. As he left the office, his secretary looked up quizzically from her desk. The General put on his best poker face and lied about his destination.
"Just stepping out for a bit, Cindy. I'll be back later."
"Yes, sir. You don't have any appointments this afternoon, anyway. Would you like me to clear any non-emergent meetings for tomorrow?"
O'Neill thought for a minute before answering.
"No. That's ok. Just leave things as they are." He didn't want to raise any suspicions about where he was really going and what he was about to do.
"Yes, sir."
Jack nodded his thanks to the younger woman and stepped into the hall. After a few minutes of escalator rides and twisting corridors, he left the Pentagon behind. When he reached his truck, he pulled a seldom used cel phone from the glove compartment and punched in a number he knew by heart. He turned up the radio, and waited for an answer.
The voice on the other end was jovial, far too loud, and surprised, but it carried a hint of seriousness in it that Jack's long practiced ears picked up.
"Hey, buddy! Long time, no talk! What's up?"
Jack's answer was to the point. "I need your help."
"No problems. Lady trouble again?" The small laugh that followed the question let O'Neill know his friend wasn't alone. He couldn't talk now.
O'Neill had no inclination to talk now anyway, so he ended things the only way he could.
"Shut up, Burke, and get your ass up to Minnesota ASAP."
"Can do, buddy. Can do."
Jack disconnected, and sighed. He hated to call Burke. It was a blow to his pride and brought up all sorts of sticky questions, but Burke was a pro, and Jack had nowhere else to go. Besides, when it came down to it, they were friends, and that counted for something, even with everything that had happened between them through the years. Jack's trust in Burke was not without reservations, but the younger man had proven his mettle once before, and Jack hoped that maybe, just maybe, luck would smile on the two of them again and they would bring Jack's friends back a second time.
He just prayed it wouldn't be too late.