Part 3: Approaching the speed of sound
The chopper took them to an airstrip where a twin-engine plane was waiting. Loaded on the plane, the man in black, and his colleagues still would not provide explanation. Though they offered Sam and Jack food and blankets, and all around seemed like super nice guys, Jack's stomach was still clenched in suspicion and anxiety.
Sam didn't realize that she'd dozed off during the flight with her head on Jack's shoulder. Until she woke and had no idea how long they'd been in the air. Lifting her head, she met Jack's eyes and intuitively knew he'd remained alert and had some idea of where they were.
Jack whispered in her ear, "I think we passed the ranges north of Mongolia."
She nodded slightly and noticed that the plane was descending. It was likely what woke her.
Upon landing, they were escorted to a three-story building among large warehouses beside a railway track.
Being led through corridors was eerily familiar, and Jack lost his patience with the entire cloak and dagger 'we'll explain later' attitude.
"Are we being held against our will?" Jack demanded to the new henchmen showing them the way.
"No, Colonel," the man replied, a bit of confusion obvious in his tone. "I assure you this is for your own safety. There are people who want you and the Major dead. A meeting will commence in the morning. Your President has requested your presence at it."
The man in black led them around a corner and further explained, "In the meantime, we can provide you with some accommodations, food, and medical attention if necessary. I am positive you are exhausted from your ordeal."
The intuitional hallways twisted and turned, and the man almost treated it like a tour guide might by informing them, "We took over an abandoned mental hospital for our base of operations."
Jack's sarcastic sense of humor never missed an opportunity. "Seems appropriate," he commented. But the absurdity of the situation seemed to be lost on their guide.
Sam asked, "Whose operations specifically?"
"A coalition of officials from various governments that trust each other, but have lost faith in their comrades. We are working for the best interest of Earth's future."
Jack and Sam met eyes, silent reactions cataloged.
They were led to an empty room, one that was not locked but shut behind them. It contained a bed, table and chairs, and an attached bath. The stark look of the place matched the explanation that this was once a hospital. But it was clean, and vastly improved over their previous quarters, so Sam had no complaints.
Another person, a woman this time, came by with towels and a change of clothes for each of them. A tray of food was brought soon after. Jack gladly munched on a sandwich while Carter took the shower first.
Sam striped the clothes she never wanted to see again, putting them immediately in the garbage can. She stepped under the hot water, closed her eyes and sighed. It felt like heaven after weeks of bathing with a cold rag at the little sink in that God-forsaken cell. A bar of soap and a bottle of what Sam assumed was shampoo even though the writing on it was foreign to her, were on the ledge. She used them gratefully to scrub her skin and hair.
It felt like more than just grime washed from her body, relief, tension, and worry also disappeared with the dirt down the drain.
She knew that they probably shouldn't relax because they could still be in danger. But if these men turned out to be bad guys and not good ones, they were at least bad guys with compassion and a bar of soap.
The light outside had faded to night. That was the first thing Jack noticed after emerging from his shower. Second, his gaze settled on Sam seated in a chair, wearing clean clothes that were a little baggy on her. She looked like a kid wearing her older sister's outfit two sizes too big and for a moment, Jack saw her as vulnerable. But then it passed and he only saw his strong, capable Major once again.
Despite Sam's nap on the plane, her head was doing that bouncy thing, drooping down and then popping up when she caught herself drifting. Jack couldn't blame her, they'd spent weeks sleeping in shifts, keeping alert to any opportunity to escape, and survived on way more adrenaline than was probably healthy.
Jack seriously wondered if they were any safer here than they had been back in the Laos prison. Because of that, they should still be doing the same routine and staying alert. But a decent shower, clean clothes, and a room that didn't smell like vomit and dead animals certainly made him want to let go and finally relax too. Maybe Sam had the right idea. At least for tonight, trust and sleep well.
Jack moved to Sam's side and put and hand under her arm. "Hey, sleepyhead," he said gently, "over here."
He guided Carter to the bed and she opened her eyes long enough to see him pull the covers over them both, and shut off the lamp on the table next to them.
For a brief moment, Jack realized this would be the first time his superiors might have hard evidence to prove that he and Sam were disobeying the rules. If he cared, he shouldn't be in this bed with Sam. He certainly shouldn't be pulling her closer and hugging her tight in his arms this way. But it was only a brief, passing thought.
It was mid-morning and the sun filtered through frosted windows in to a room not unlike the briefing room at the SGC. Other than the natural light instead of florescent bulbs, both rooms shared all the basics of any conference room– table, chairs, and stale coffee.
Sam sat next to Jack and she clutched the mug in her hands. It was the first coffee she'd had in… she couldn't remember how long. So it tasted far better than it probably should.
The room eventually filled with men in suits, carrying folders or papers, shaking hands with one another, greeting Sam and Jack as if they were coworkers down the hall from accounting. It was creeping Jack out. Two final men entered and it seemed to be the cue for the meeting to begin.
"So," Jack quipped, "how are the fall sales figures?"
The pale man at the head of the table squinted ever so slightly in confusion. Sam was sure he didn't get Jack's quirky sense of humor, and was maybe convinced that Jack was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder.
The man ignored Jack's comment and responded, "I am Parker Burns and these are associates of mine. We're in an underground organization closely tied to the major heads of state, those that have not been taken over by a Goa'uld. We have been given the means to operate outside of the laws of any one country.
The President of the United States and other leaders believe that desperate measures need to be taken in order to save us from the total annihilation of the human race. We are tasked with doing this by using any means necessary."
While Sam looked around the room, a tingling sensation went up her spine and it wasn't due to stress or worry. There was one, and only one, explanation for that sensation. Despite what Parker Burns was describing, Sam knew someone in the room had been taken as a host. What she had no way of determining was if it was Goa'uld or Tok'ra. So, she kept quiet for the moment.
As the meeting went on, it became clear that these men were asking Sam and Jack to participate in one of their methods for saving the human race. Though, they were being awfully vague about specifics.
"So, in short," Parker Burns concluded, "you are both hereby granted honorable discharge by the President of the United States, who personally also wanted to send along his thanks for–"
"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Jack started to react the moment 'honorable discharge' was voiced. "Just hold up a minute… Burns."
Jack said the name in a uniquely 'Jack' tone of voice. Sam knew that he was finding the name ironic. She was ready to hear plenty on the subject once they were alone.
"I'm not retiring," Jack grouched, "and you are certainly not gonna do that to Major Carter. I'm sure whatever plans you've cooked up are… well, hopefully they work out for you. But Carter and I are needed on the front lines. We know these sneaky snakes probably better than anyone else on the planet, and we should be out there fighting."
Burns smiled. "A very admirable sentiment, Colonel O'Neill. But I can assure you, that is not what your President wants."
"Yeah, see… I'm not sure I believe you. Very well spoken and all that. But I know the President and I'm pretty sure I've got a good handle on how the guy thinks. I'd like to hear it from him myself."
"We cannot arrange that at this time."
"Then you don't have a deal," Jack said and stood, as if he was about to leave the room.
One of Burns' friends grabbed Sam and pulled a gun. He held it steady to her temple.
Jack halted and glanced at Burns, "Well, this is an unexpected turn of events."
Burns stared at Jack hard. "I hate to do it this way, but I will force you to participate if I have to."
Sam caught Jack's eye, and he knew something was wrong. Well, other than the obvious gun to her head part, which he knew wouldn't worry Sam. She trusted him and was too well trained to let a little thing like a gun bother her much.
Therefore, Jack guessed she knew someone in the room had a symbiote. Not entirely sure why he guessed that, but such was the strange connection they had and ability to read each other's thoughts sometimes, particularly in the field. The problem they both faced was that there was no way to know if it was Goa'uld or Tok'ra, and apparently there wasn't time to ask.
"You'll do as ordered," Burns repeated
Another associate in the room added, "No need for such distasteful methods." He seemed to direct that comment at Burns, then his next toward Jack. "I'm sure that the Major and the Colonel understand. Their country is simply asking for them to serve in a different capacity, that is all."
"Yeah, fine," Jack grouched. At least he had to go along for now and buy them some time. "Just quit pointing that gun at her and I'll do whatever you want."
The man holding Sam pushed her forward. She stumbled into Jack and he put an arm around her to steady her.
The guy with the gun and two others led Sam and Jack through another series of corridors. Finally, they entered a large warehouse housing a Stargate and a DHD.
Jack grouched, "Nothing surprises me anymore."
She whispered, "Do you think it's from the SGC, or somewhere else?"
As the Gate started to move, Burns handed Jack and Sam duffle bags and an envelope.
Burns smiled and said, "I believe you will find your government has asked far worse things from you in the past. Colonel, Major, good luck. You will be briefed further on the other side."
The Gate engaged and a wormhole was established. Neither Jack nor Sam said a word. The gun on them clearly spoke volumes.
They walked side by side up the ramp, and through the event horizon, having no clue what they would find on the other side.