Word count: 4,418 (3 of 10)

Rupert took one last look around the large room. "This'll do. I'll take it," he told the eager young woman from the estate agent.

It was the third house she'd shown him since breakfast. It wasn't that he was too particular about where he lived, but there were certain requirements if he was going to be comfortable.

It needed to be easily defended and set back from the road, with a large private yard in the back. For the wards he preferred to use to be most effective, it had to be constructed from natural wood and local stone. There were only a few older large homes in the outlying areas of Colorado Springs that had met his initial requirements. The rest had been converted into office space or split into smaller apartments years ago.

The only other option would have been to build one, assuming he could do the impossible and convince the Council bean counters to pay for it. But he didn't really expect to be in the area long enough for that. And he certainly didn't want to pay for it himself. He didn't need another house. The estate in Bath he'd inherited from his grandmother would still be there when he retired. That Travers had approved a generous enough stipend to allow some housing flexibility was a minor miracle he wasn't going to argue with.

With himself and two young women sharing a house it needed to be big enough to allow them all some semblance of privacy. Four bedrooms would be plenty he hoped. One for himself, one for the current slayer when she was in town, one for Ms. Dinkley, and a spare for unexpected visitors.

The large study, with enough shelf space for his private collection of rare books had been a major selling point. And there was a space above the garage that could be turned into a training area for the Slayer. The kitchen was big enough to be used for more than making toast and the living room he was standing in was roomy enough for small social events.

The Slayer had never impressed him as being too concerned about her clothes and Ms. Dinkley was a complete mystery, but he'd made sure that two of the bedrooms contained large closets just in case. He'd already staked out the master bedroom and its private bath for himself.

Looking out of the front bay window, all he could see was the cul-de-sac. No other houses were in sight, giving much needed privacy. The nearest neighbor was over a mile away. And the house was far enough from the base that it wasn't in their lap, but not so far away that it couldn't be reached quickly in an emergency.

He'd have to have his furniture from his last semi-permanent home in the States, in Sunnydale, taken out of storage and sent to the house. It wasn't much but it would be better than the bare house. And anything would be better than a hotel room, he thought, pulling out a small pad and starting to put together a list of things the house needed. After his afternoon meeting he would also get a cot.

"Doctor Giles?" the agent asked, interrupting his thoughts.

"Yes?" He turned away from the window.

"When do you want it?"

"Today, if possible," he told her.

"We can fill out the paperwork back at the office," she said, giving him a large smile. "You should be able to take possession late this afternoon."

He must be getting old, he thought, when his only reaction to her excitement was amusement.

Pausing in the doorway, Rupert looked around the small meeting room. He would be working with these people and their subordinates for the next few months. Or longer if Quentin Travers had his way. The Council Head had been trying to force him out of the field and into a research position away from direct contact with the Slayer for years.

They'd been arguing about the role of the Council in the relationship between watcher and slayer for as long as they'd known each other. Quentin wasn't a cruel leader but he claimed there should be an emotional distance between a slayer and her watcher to protect them both if the other should die.

Rupert suspected there was some element of control at play in that belief. A slayer without such close ties to a watcher was easier for the Council to control. That the current slayer had managed to survive without a permanent watcher seemed to confirm Travers' opinion. But Rupert knew that she'd survived in spite of the best efforts of the Council. She'd told him about some of the impossible missions Travers had sent her on. He was also sure that Travers would use this as an opportunity to lessen any influence they thought he had over her.

He saw no reason to correct their mistaken impression. She might tolerate him enough to work with him on occasion but he'd spent enough time with her over the years to know that she often did things for her own reasons. Frustrating reasons only another slayer would understand. Which brought him back to this meeting.

The borrowed conference room wasn't huge but they were still a small group. The U.S. military was moving quickly to renovate a section of the vast labyrinth of tunnels carved into the mountain deep below their existing NORAD facility, but it would be at least a month before it was completely habitable. Until then they were working in a small secure building on the edge of the Air Force Academy grounds.

In addition to the facilities, the U.S. Air Force had been instrumental in providing a large pool of trained personnel to staff the facility once it was ready for them.

His eyes moving around the room, Rupert mentally reviewed what he knew about each of the people present. He'd had a chance to read the Council's background files on all of them, put together from various sources the night before. The Pentagon had provided heavily edited files for the military members of the team as part of their collaboration with Groupe Seven but while the amount of black ink had been impressive they hadn't given him the insight into them he'd hoped.

The General watched the others with a calm expression on his face. In their earlier meetings General Hammond had displayed a good grasp of the intricacies of the situation. A well respected career officer close to retirement, he'd seemed comfortable with the idea that a large part of his command would be non-military. He hadn't demanded proof of the supernatural when Rupert had explained where Groupe Seven's interest in the Chappa'ai really lay.

Of the people present, only Doctor Carter had a direct connection to the Council. Her Council file had made for interesting, if somewhat intrusive, reading. Leaning back in her chair against the far wall, she wore her uniform like she'd been born in it, her blonde hair now carefully trimmed to what he assumed was regulation length. She certainly didn't look like the angry woman who'd stormed into the General's office just days ago.

Noting the ribbons proudly placed on her uniform, he reminded himself to refer to her by her rank. A respected astrophysicist, at this point she was the only true scientist in the group, a condition that would correct itself at the end of the month when several other scientists from the original Project Giza joined her department.

His sun bleached hair and dark skin a sign of extensive periods spent outdoors, Dr. Daniel Jackson looked ill at ease in the room. Rupert could sympathize. One of the Council's artifact retrieval teams had tracked down the infamous linguist and archeologist deep in the Arabian desert, where he was searching for a fabled library lost in the sand. He hadn't been given much time to adjust to the situation. It had taken a promise of funding from Groupe Seven for a future expedition before he'd agreed to join them in Colorado.

Feeling himself being watched, Rupert turned his attention next to Jack O'Neill, a formerly retired colonel in the U.S. Air Force. General Hammond had convinced the Colonel to come out of retirement. He'd joined the investigation for reasons of his own. If he hadn't seen excerpts from his file, Rupert would have wondered what his role was to be. Even the parts that weren't heavily blacked out read like some pulp novel or John Wayne movie. If they actually managed to reopen the portal, men he selected and trained would go through it. Reading between the lines, Rupert suspected the General expected the Colonel to lead those men.

The project's Chief Medical Officer, another Air Force officer, hadn't arrived yet and wouldn't be joining them for another week. The Council report on her had been exceedingly brief, even compared to the others. There had been a note saying she was aware of the Council but mysteriously no indication of how or why. Rupert wasn't sure what part she would play in the initial investigation but the Council hadn't objected to her inclusion.

Over the next few months, others would join the investigation to flesh out the various departments focusing on the Chappa'ai, but this was the core leadership. Satisfied with his thoughts, Rupert stepped completely into the room. Placing his stack of folders down on the table, he took one of the remaining empty seats.

General Hammond patiently waited for him to be seated before starting the meeting.

"You are all aware of the task before us," he began. "Due to recent events, we have been asked to determine as quickly as possible if there is sufficient reason to continue with the investigation carried out by Captain Carter and her team."

"This is a joint project with Her Majesty's DMN Groupe Seven. They will be providing a portion of our funding and limited oversight. They've also graciously loaned Dr. Giles to this task force for as long his expertise is needed." General Hammond said. "Groupe Seven has also procured Dr. Jackson's services for the duration of the project."

Dr. Jackson nodded, somewhat reluctantly Rupert thought.

"Colonel," the General said. "I believe you are first."

"Yes, sir." He looked around the room, giving all of them a look as if he were trying to see into their souls. "The General has asked me to set up the ring security for this project, in addition to putting together the mission teams."

"Mission teams?" Rupert asked, frowning.

"Infiltration and reconnaissance experts," the Colonel said. "If I understand it correctly, this ring is some kind of doorway to other places."

"We believe so," Rupert told him.

"The evidence currently points in that direction," Captain Carter added.

"If you manage to open it, we will need trained personnel available to assess what is on the other side," the Colonel explained. "Think of it as an outward looking, offensive capability. They'll start to arrive in a month. The first Ring security team, a platoon of Marines, should arrive tomorrow."

"Isn't there already security at the mountain?" Rupert asked. He'd passed along the list of men the Colonel had selected for his teams to the Council but he hadn't seen any mention of an entire platoon of Marines.

"The security up at the mountain is just there to keep out the nosy and the garden variety spy," he said. "While the mission teams are playing offense, Ring security will be made up of personnel specializing in defense."

"Defense?"

"We've already had one person come through your ring without any help from us," he said. "If someone decides to use the ring to invade, we want to be able to stop them before they can get out of the mountain."

"You can't use the same people for both?" Doctor Jackson asked curiously.

"No," O'Neill said, in a tone that allowed for no argument. "The mission teams will be available when needed to support Ring security but that isn't their primary mission."

"Captain?" General Hammond nodded at her. "What can you tell us about the ring?"

"We're not sure what material the ring is made from," she said. "We were unable to take any samples of the material with the instruments we had available. We were able to conduct a few experiments but nothing extensive."

"The Ring was discovered in an abandoned secret Nazi research facility in the Black Forest after the Second World War. The Nazis burned or destroyed everything before they left but they apparently were unsuccessful in destroying the ring itself. It was shipped back to the States along with a number of other artifacts."

"I was researching pre-war Nazi rocket experiments in the German National Library when I came across this picture." She handed out copies.

Looking closely, Rupert saw a picture of three people, a woman, a Nazi officer, and another man standing in front of the ring.

"When I discovered the ring was in a warehouse in Washington I was able to convince my PhD advisor to use his influence to set up a group to study it. We were never able to figure out how to get it to work."

"How did you know what it was supposed to do?" Dr. jackson asked.

"I also found a short film, apparently of the ring in action." She held up a DVD case. "It was very convincing. I brought a copy of it with me. If I may?"

General Hammond nodded.

Putting the DVD in a player in the corner, the Captain dimmed the lights and then stepped over to the screen that came down to cover one wall. "It's only a couple minutes long and the quality is rough," she told them before starting it. "I suspect it is part of a much longer record of the German experiments but this is all that survived."

There was no sound, Rupert noticed with no surprise. The three people in the picture stood several dozen yards back from the ring. Behind them was a large group of soldiers wearing the dreaded SS on their black uniforms. Several had their guns pointed at the three.

There were sparks as several men in white lab coats attached thick cables to the ring. Rupert winced in memory as the inner ring was rotated by several soldiers. Something happened that he couldn't make out and a cloud of steam shot out several yards out of the ring when it stopped turning.

The man and woman were pushed towards the ring. Stopping just in front of it, they engaged in a heated discussion with the Nazi officer. Shaking his head, he pointed at the ring. Stepping back he gestured towards the soldiers behind him. Four stepped forward and forced the woman and man through the ring. A minute after they disappeared there was a large flash and the large pool in the center of the ring disappeared. The officer was still staring at the empty ring when the film ended.

"From this we know that it takes seven symbols out of the thirty nine present to activate it. It's almost like dialing a phone number. Though there was some speculation at the time that it was an address we were unable to figure out the coordinate system being used," Captain Carter told them. "From its recent activation, we also now know that it doesn't require any energy for an incoming connection to be made."

"Comments gentlemen?" General Hammond said once she'd finished.

"It's potentially dangerous when it's running," Colonel O'Neill said. "Notice how they all stay back until it stops moving and that cloud disappears. We'll need to know how much clearance it'll require. We also need to know how to prevent anyone from coming through it."

"Well, now we know what happened to Catherine Langford and Ernest Littlefield," Rupert said.

"You recognized them?" Captain Carter asked.

"Catherine Langford's father headed the expedition that discovered the Chappa'ai," Rupert said. "Ernest Littlefield was a Groupe Seven field researcher."

"So Groupe Seven was involved with the discovery of the ring?" Captain Carter asked. "Not just funding the expedition?"

"Dr. Giles has put together a brief overview of how he came to become involved with the ring," General Hammond said before he could answer her. "Now would be an excellent time to go over it." He nodded at Rupert to begin.

"The ring, or the Chappa'ai as it was known, was discovered by a Groupe Seven sponsored expedition in 1928," Rupert said.

"How did the Nazi's get their hands on it?" O'Neill asked.

"It was one of the things Rommel carried back to Berlin when he left Africa," Rupert said. "Professor Langford was killed trying to prevent them from taking it. His daughter disappeared and was assumed dead. After the war it was moved to Washington where it's been gathering dust ever since. Other than Captain Carter, everyone seemed to have forgotten about it until recently."

"Why did you start researching it now?" Carter asked.

Rupert rubbed his glasses for a moment while he collected his thoughts. Travers had given him permission to tell them some of the psuedo-historical background of Groupe Seven. A background that included nothing about the true purpose of the Council.

"Some of you might not be aware of this, but DMN is the surviving offshoot of an organization that claimed to date back to per-Christianity. There is some evidence that indicates an even older beginning. DMN has archives of the writings of its members that appear to go back several millennia, we believe supporting this claim."

"Assuming that is true," Dr. Jackson said excitedly, "how much older are we talking about?"

"The oldest records in the DMN archives are in Greek," Rupert said, "but they often contain references to even older materials. If you wish to look through them for proof of your theories about the age of the pyramids, Dr. Jackson, we should probably discuss that possibility later."

"Right. Sorry." Dr. Jackson said. "Please continue."

Rupert nodded. "I first ran across references to the Chappa'ai several years ago while translating several old manuscripts that had come into the possession of Groupe Seven at the turn of the last century. And then, several months ago I was reading newly discovered letters in the archives when I came across mention of an ancient legend."

Rupert pulled a sheet of paper from his portfolio. "This is a rough translation," he said, reading several lines. "'If I remember the tale correctly, Alinosa was one with Sineya when she drove the demons of Ra through the Chappa'ai.'"

"Can I see that?" Dr. Jackson asked, taking the sheet from Rupert. "Do you have the complete legend?"

"No, but there is still a lot of material to go through," Rupert told him. "It'll probably take years."

"Gentlemen," Hammond interrupted.

"Sorry," Dr. Jackson said. "What else do we know?"

"While further researching the Chappa'ai', I came across a report from Dr. Langford's original expedition. Unfortunately, most of the records from that and later expeditions disappeared during the war," Rupert said. "All we have left are several early reports."

"What about the Nazis?" O'Neill asked. "They had it for several years. Weren't they obsessed with keeping records of everything they did?"

"As Dr. Carter mentioned earlier, not much is known about the experiments performed on the Chappa'ai by the Nazis during the war. However, it wasn't the Nazis who destroyed the facility."

"It did sound a little too convenient," O'Neill said. "The Nazis left a lot of things behind as they were forced back to Berlin. So, who did cleanup for them?"

"Groupe Seven had a team scouring Europe for Ernest Littlefield at the end of the war. There'd been rumours that he'd survived. There is a brief account of their discovery of the Chappa'ai that mentions they destroyed anything to do with it that they couldn't carry, but the Chappa'ai itself seemed to be indestructible."

"Why would they do that?" Jackson asked.

"Whatever they found they felt was too dangerous to leave behind," Rupert said. Reading between the lines, Rupert suspected they'd found more than just the Chappa'ai. Most likely something related to Nazi research on the slayer, but this group didn't need to know that.

"Is there a list of what they brought back?" Carter asked. "If they destroyed what they couldn't carry then they must have saved something."

"The Groupe Seven archivist is working on that now," Rupert said. "She'll send copies of anything relevant she finds."

"Dr. Jackson?" General Hammond asked, when Rupert had clearly finished.

"I've briefly examined the photographs of the writing on the ring," he said. "It's not any language I recognize."

"What can you tell us?"

"From this?" Jackson waved the photo of Catherine Langford and Ernest Littlefield. "Nothing useful. The two videos of the ring in action were interesting, but provided no useful information on what the symbols mean." He pulled out a drawing of the ring. "If those are coordinates, as Dr. Carter believes, they are in no language I recognize. They don't appear on any artifacts I've seen."

"Would this help?" Rupert asked, sliding two black and white photos across the table. "They were in the Giza expedition file."

"Yes," Jackson said excitedly, looking closely at the photos. "These were found with the ring?"

"Yes. The original tablet seems to have disappeared," Rupert said. "Professor Langford speculated that it was written by whomever buried the Chappa'ai.

"What do we know about the woman who came through it?" O'Neill asked.

"Nothing we can confirm," Rupert told them. "She claims to work for NASA, though they have no record of a Velma Dinkley. She doesn't appear to remember anything about traveling through the Chappa'ai. She claims to have been in an underwater city before going through the ring."

"When can we speak with her?" Carter asked.

"She's currently in hospital, recovering from malnutrition and exhaustion," Rupert said. "A colleague of mine, Ms. Summers, is bringing her to Colorado Springs when she's cleared to travel."

"Do we know if her health was affected by traveling through the ring?" Carter asked.

"That will be one of Dr. Frasier's tasks when she arrives," General Hammond said. "I expect all of you to fully cooperate with her and her staff when she arrives."

"Summers?" O'Neill asked, perking up. "Buffy Summers? Short, dirty blonde hair, with an attitude?"

"Yes."

"Isn't she a bit of a loose canon?" O'Neill asked.

"You've encountered her?" Rupert asked, only marginally surprised with what he knew of the Colonel's history.

"Not directly," he said, with a slight shrug. "It's a small community. You hear stories."

"Who's this Buffy Summers?" Carter asked.

"You've seen the video of the Chappa'ai when it activated in the warehouse." Rupert stated.

"Yes," Carter said.

"She's the fast moving streak that knocked me out of the way when it opened."

"So you owe her," O'Neill said, smirking at some private thought.

"It's not the first time," Rupert said with a shrug. "And probably won't be the last. She's the best active Groupe Seven operative available."

"Is she the..." Carter paused, letting Rupert fill in the blanks.

"Yes." He gave her an intent look but her face had gone blank. He suspected he'd be in for a grilling later from the Captain.

"Is she joining our little party?" O'Neill asked the General.

"There was no one of that name on any personnel lists I've seen," the General told him with a frown.

"She won't be directly involved," Rupert said. "She's too busy with her own responsibilities for Groupe Seven. However, she has been made responsible for Ms. Dinkley so she'll be around. General, I believe you'll find her on the list of Groupe Seven employees requiring access to the project facilities."

"Ah," the General nodded and made a note on his pad.

Standing in the entrance, O'Neill looked around the bar. On the wall in one corner was a large television showing some sports news show. It was still early and while a few of the tables had occupants, one or two in uniform, it was mostly quiet. Running his eyes along the bar, he spotted a tall blonde who seemed to be absorbed in a glass of beer.

"Captain," he said in greeting, as he sat to her right. "Been in town long?" he asked as he waved the bartender over.

"Colonel O'Neill," she said, looking up from her glass and acknowledging his presence. "Since Monday," she added.

"How'd they drag you into this little adventure?" He asked. He'd been surprised to find her name on the list of potential candidates for his teams. Her file had made for interesting reading but there were some distinct gaps towards the end. Including her reason for quitting the Air Force. "What'd they offer you to come back?"

"Offer sir?" She gave him a puzzled look.

"Huh," he muttered in surprise. "They didn't, did they. Just told you to be here."

"Yes, sir." She said, glaring at him.

He just gave her his friendliest, 'don't mind me' smile. "So you probably didn't volunteer for one of my teams. You do come highly recommended," he added.

She looked back at him in surprise. "One of your teams?"

"Once you get your little gadget working, someone has to test it."

"I'm not qualified, sir." She said, an undertone of bitterness in her voice.

"If you say so," he said. "You seemed to already know about Dr. Giles' Groupe Seven. Have you worked with them in the past?"

"Not officially."

"Unofficially?" he asked.

"I spent several years in Europe with my father after my mother died," she told him. "They have a training facility near one of the bases he was posted to."

He waited for her to say more. When she didn't he sighed and asked the one thing her file hadn't told him that he thought he should know. "Why did you really leave?"

"It was personal. Sir."

"Personal enough to throw away your career?" he asked.

"Yes, sir." Gulping down the rest of her beer, Carter dropped several bills on the bar and stood up.

"Carter?" he said, as she turned to leave.

"Yes, sir?"

"Find room in your schedule for a weapons refresher."

"Sir?" She looked at him in surprise.

He just nodded to her in dismissal and turned back to his drink. He could feel her standing there for a minute, staring at his back, before she left.