** See Part 1 for disclaimers and story details.
AUTHOR'S NOTES: The moment some of you have been asking for has arrived! I hope you enjoy Harm's introduction to the SGC. I sure enjoyed writing it. Thank you all for your continued comments, kudos and subscribes. Still working on story #5 as it simply didn't want to stay as short as these first ones. A few more scenes and it'll be done!
Still unbetaed so any mistakes are all on me. I try to catch as many as I can, but something always sneaks through. As always, any and all feedback is appreciated.
"I haven't been around security this heavy since the Atef tribunal," Harm said, accepting his driver's license back from the security force sergeant manning the third checkpoint. Each of the previous guards had carefully scanned his ID with a barcode reader, compared the image against his face, had him sign in and compared the signature, and had verified his presence with Colonel O'Neill through a duress check. It had been a very subtle challenge and response. Harm doubted anyone not trained or experienced in sentry TTPs would have caught it.
O'Neill grimaced as he scanned his ID over the elevator sensor. The light flicked from red to green. "We've been screwed a few times before we went a little overkill. Don't worry. This is the last one." He tucked his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels as they waited for the car, also the third they'd taken since entering the Cheyenne Mountain Complex itself.
Sending his eyes wandering randomly, he scanned the area, searching for the telltale hints this particular checkpoint held more security measures than the previous two. The two cameras angled to cover the entire area were a bit larger than expected for CCTV, especially in a facility known for its high tech equipment. The mat they now stood upon was too thick to simply trap dust and mud. The elevator call scanner had read O'Neill's ID, but the SF manning the desk had already triggered a button to approve it. He'd done it discretely enough for the average person to miss it. All of that in addition to the verbal duress procedure. Harm couldn't see how any unauthorized person could pass through this gauntlet successfully.
The doors slid open with a quiet whoosh and O'Neill waved him in ahead. After swiping his ID yet again, he tapped one of the buttons on the bottom row with the card. He leaned against the back wall and crossed his arms over his chest. "Assessment?"
"Impressive," Harm said, mirroring the colonel. "The second SF could use some more practice with the duress code. He was a little hesitant finding a way to work it into the conversation. You could have helped him out a little." O'Neill just grinned. "Double call buttons for the elevators. Even if someone was able to steal an active ID it wouldn't do them any good unless they took out the guard as well. Weight mat in front of the elevator is a nice touch. Since you've already told me about devices that can mimic a person's appearance, verifying weight against records would be one way to provide additional confirmation of identity."
He'd managed to surprise O'Neill with that one. The grin slipped just a fraction accompanied by a widening of his eyes before he got control of his face. "Anything else?"
"I also assume the weight sensors guard against some sort of camouflage or cloaking device." He couldn't believe the words were actually coming out of his mouth, but he was trying to adjust his way of thinking. If he was going to work with these people and their new levels of crazy, he needed to adapt and overcome immediately. "Now the cameras I'm not sure about. Thermal sensors maybe? They're too big for basic security video."
"I knew this was the place for you, Commander."
"I haven't accepted anything yet, Colonel."
O'Neill merely nodded, gesturing Harm to proceed him as the doors slid open. The walls were a uniform grey, almost the same shade as the ships Harm had served aboard. A wide yellow stripe ran horizontally along one side of the hallway with a large number 27 painted immediately across from the elevator. More colored stripes ran down the length of the hallway. Another pair of the oversized cameras tracked their movements as they walked down the hall. "You're correct on everything except the cameras, Rabb. They're transphase scanners not thermal, though that's a good idea to add some of those as well. Some species and beings are able to phase out of our visible spectrum. Yes, like cloaking or invisibility. But some other beings simply inhabit a universe out of phase with our own."
Harm twisted to look at the other man, stumbling slightly when his right foot smacked into the heel of his left. O'Neill didn't look like he was joking. "And I thought thermal sensors were a reach."
"I've found its safer to assume anything is possible, Rabb. It's saved our lives more than once."
They stepped to the right side of the hallway as three marines moved at a fast walk toward them. Each gave the colonel either a nod or a greeting, which he returned. They were relaxed, cheerful even, Harm noted as they passed. Before he could continue their conversation, red emergency lights stationed at intervals along the corridor began flashing, accompanying the klaxons that sounded at an almost reasonable level, at least to Harm's ears. He tensed, readying himself for whatever orders O'Neill gave.
Instead of concern, however, a broad grin stretched across his face. "Hurry up, Commander. You don't want to miss the show." Without waiting for a response, the colonel took off in a long, ground-eating stride.
Harm hurried after him, the spike of adrenalin from the alarms shifting into a coil of anticipation. He'd been surprised repeatedly over the past week. What was one more to add to the stack? O'Neill took the half a dozen stairs in two bounding steps and Harm followed closely as the klaxons continued to sound. The open door led to a large briefing room with an elegant table surrounded by six chairs. A flat screen TV was mounted on one wall, a flag stanchion with the National Colors and the service flags filled one corner, a set of stairs circling downward were tucked away in another corner, a door leading to an office was adjacent to the stairs, and a transparent writing board covered in what appeared to be astronomical markings lay against the far wall. All this Harm processed in the two seconds it took to cross the room to stand at O'Neill's side at the room-width window overlooking-
"Holy Moses," he murmured.
The giant ring was standing at the far end of the bay, a metal grated ramp leading up to the opening. Some sort of inner ring was spinning with a harsh, grinding noise easily heard in the breaks between the klaxon. Without warning, the open center of the ring collapsed like a camera shutter and Harm jumped at the unexpected motion. O'Neill's smirk would bother him later. At that moment, Harm was too busy staring at what had to be the Stargate itself. The inner ring jolted to a halt, a mechanism at the twelve o'clock position snapped down and up, and one of the markings around the outer ring began to glow. "That's the same orange as the device Major Davis had."
"Could be. The Asgard integrated some Ancient technology into their own whenever they could."
Harm wanted to ask more than a few clarification questions after that bomb of confusion, but the ring came to full stop followed by a strange whooshing sound. A bright blue glow bounced off the rear wall, distorted and shifting like a flashlight held under the water's surface. He waited, patient. O'Neill had wanted him here to see this in particular so it had to be something worth their dash through the halls.
"IDC confirmed," a male voice spoke over what Harm assumed was the base intercom. It was echoed from the direction of the spiral stairs back to his left, but without the tinniness of electronic amplification. The klaxon cut off in mid-squeal. "SG-12 scheduled return."
The shutter slid back open and blue light poured out from the center of the Stargate. What looked like water stood vertically within the ring, lapping gently like an early morning lake against the shore but without escaping its confines. "It's beautiful," he said, hands resting on the sill so he could lean closer to the glass.
"That it is, Commander," O'Neill replied just as quietly.
Suddenly, the serene blue shattered as a boot broke through the wavering surface to step onto the metal grate with a clang followed immediately by the rest of a man in BDUs. Three more people slurped out after him, each carrying a rucksack, a rifle strapped to their chests, and a modified holster on one thigh with a side arm and a silver curve of something carried below each pistol. The first man looked up, his eyeline aimed roughly below where Harm and the colonel stood. The man nodded, sending a lazy salute in the same direction.
"SG-12 report to medical for post-mission scans. Debrief scheduled for 1430. Welcome home," a different voice said over the speakers. Whereas the first one had been middle America average, the second was laced with a Texas drawl Harm hadn't heard since Meg Austin had last gotten riled up at him. All four members of SG-12 waved acknowledgment with the ease of familiarity then moved as one toward the wide doorway on Harm's right.
He watched them exit, the comfortable way they moved around each other at once familiar and yet foreign all the same. The Stargate flickered at the corner of his vision and he turned back in time to see the water-like blue vanish with a strange susurration. Movement again caught his attention and he finally registered the presence of four highly armed security personnel, two at each of the large doorways on either side of the room. His eyebrows raised at the level of hardware they carried. "I take it you learned the hard way to have them stationed down there as well?"
O'Neill tapped the sill with the heel of one hand before turning back toward the desk. "Unfortunately."
Harm followed him, though his gaze kept returning to the now silent and still Stargate. "What was SG-12 doing out there?"
Before the colonel could answer, the sound of quick footsteps on metal came from the direction of the spiral stairs. After seeing the team's arrival, Harm concluded there was some sort of control room or observation deck directly below where they stood. The design made sense from a strategic standpoint. Unobstructed visual field to the Stargate while the hustle and bustle of a command deck stayed safely separate.
The footsteps soon brought a balding man into view as he climbed the staircase. He was older than Harm and dressed in Air Force blue, the service B's only unfamiliar due to the color. Two stars graced the man's epaulets and Harm, yet again, fought the instinct to come to attention. Colonel O'Neill, he noted, didn't straighten from his relaxed stance leaning against one of the chairs. Major General George Hammond either didn't enforce as strict adherence to military protocol as Admiral Chegwidden had or O'Neill had a special privilege due to his position and seniority in the command.
"SG-12 was concluding a routine check-in with our allies on P3X-797, called by the inhabitants the Land of Light. Commander Rabb, it's good to meet you." The general extended his hand to shake and Harm met him halfway. The man's hand was firm, confident, with just a touch of fleshiness that matched his slightly rotund figure.
Harm shot a look at the colonel, who merely smirked with a shrug. The other man knew he wasn't about to correct a two star over a title he was no longer entitled to use. Though it sent a pang of regret through him every time he heard it. "General, thank you for taking a chance on me."
"Well, I don't much consider it a chance." He waved them both into chairs as he settled into the one closest to the staircase. "I assume Colonel O'Neill has given you the basics of what we do?"
"Between him and Major Davis I think I have a solid grasp on what my duties would be here," he said, ignoring the quiet snort from his left. The general's gaze ticked to O'Neill briefly before returning to Harm. "I know this is a joint command, sir, but I'm unaware of any Navy personnel assigned here. The mission doesn't seem to align with the strengths we're known for."
"That's only because Secretary Sheffield, and before him Secretary Nelson, refuses to release any of his personnel to us. There are numerous positions within the SGC where Navy experience would be beneficial."
"And right now I'm the only one the SECNAV can't deny you access to." He felt O'Neill shift next to him, but maintained eye contact with General Hammond. Yes, he wanted nothing more than to serve once again, despite all of the acid feelings his departure from JAG had left within him. But he was no one's tool, no one's token. He was especially no one's pet Navy commander to show off like a prized Pekinese.
A hint of a smile creased the corners of Hammond's eyes, though no other sign of it appeared in his expression. "That is one factor, Commander, but merely a small one. Have you given thought to which capacity you might serve here?"
The unhesitating response soothed the ruffled feathers of his pride. He'd been used one too many times in the last year to let it slide off his hide like he usually did. He wanted say screw it and accept his commission back. He'd given it up for all the right reasons, he might as well get it back for the same. There was one huge stumbling block in the way, however, and although O'Neill and Major Davis had waved the concern aside it was a valid one. "I believe it would be difficult to get Secretary Sheffield to agree to my return to active duty, sir. I've used up all of my goodwill in that office."
"Colonel," he said, gaze not leaving Harm's, "how much of the tour has he been on?"
"We only just arrived when SG-12 gated in. I skipped the basics so he could see them."
The smile finally spread across Hammond's face, turning him from stoic general to happy grandfather in the space of a couple of heartbeats. "Take him up then. Show him what we have to offer." He rose and they followed suit. The general took two steps toward the office, paused, then turned back. "Commander?"
"Sir?"
"Make the decision that's right for you. You let me deal with Sheffield."
"Aye, aye, sir."
General Hammond simply shook his head with a muttered, "Navy," just loud enough for them to hear before continuing into the office.
Harm turned just in time to see O'Neill with that almost familiar smirk once again on his face. He had a feeling he'd be seeing a lot of it in the future. "Take me up where? We just got down here."
The colonel didn't answer, just walked passed him to the spiral stairs.
Following, Harm was forced to speak to the colonel's back. "O'Neill, take me up where?" he asked again as he ducked to avoid the floor above him while taking the last few stairs. The action was automatic. Years of sea duty had him well trained to avoid cranial damage from low hanging barriers aboard ship.
But O'Neill was already speaking quietly with a man also in service B's with sergeant's chevrons on his shoulders. Since he was being ignored, he scanned the new room, which was the operations center he thought would be down here. Another wall of windows overlooked the Stargate from a slightly lower vantage point than the briefing room above. Computers, monitors, sensors and workstations filled the small space with just enough room for a few people to stand without getting in the way. Another glass window of astronomical markings separated the command area from a second room filled with yet more computers. Something settled deep in his gut as he listened to the murmuring of voices and keyboards clicking. It felt like standing on the bridge of a carrier. Controlled chaos and competency.
He felt the colonel's presence at his side, but didn't look over. "Hold on to your hat, Rabb."
"I'm not wearing-"
A tingling broke out over every inch of his skin, cutting off the obligatory reply. A blinding flash of white filled his eyes as the tingling began to ease. O'Neill was going to owe him for whatever stunt he'd just pulled. Did the man do this to every new person attached to the SGC? Blinking to clear the spots, he first noticed the difference in lighting and the gentle vibration beneath his feet. It wasn't the familiar feel of a ship underway, but it was a close cousin to it.
"Rabb, over here," O'Neill called and Harm's vision finally cleared enough to process what his eyes had been trying to tell him.
O'Neill stood a few feet away, hands tucked into his pockets. His feet drew him closer without thought, bringing him to the colonel's side, who partially turned so he could observe Harm and the scene below.
It was Earth. The familiar land masses and oceans and clouds and every picture he'd ever seen taken from the space station. He'd flown the Aurora through the stratosphere not that many weeks ago and he'd been breathless at the beauty of his home stretched out beneath him. This? He couldn't even find his voice.
"Commander Rabb, welcome to the Prometheus."
fin
Continued in "Honor Bound" Pt. 4 "Pride Falls"