From Here to Alternity I: Canon minusA Major: Classify This!
Me no own. Me no make money off. Please not to sue. See explicit disclaimer in other chapters.
Author's note at end, after the usual evil cliffhanger. ;-)
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Hallway, Administration Building
Grand Canyon National Park, AZ
Downtime Day 12, midafternoon
'Tio Murray' loomed calmly over the CSI team in a quiet hallway just outside the park's security chief's office. Truth be known, he didn't even need to alter his normal impassive expression to make the three techs nervous. They'd had all yesterday afternoon, from a midmorning roll out to the last bits of daylight, to dread his insistence on keeping a personal inventory of every piece of evidence collected.
After they'd arrived on the scene and taken pictures to establish the initial position of everything in and around the crime scene, the techs divided up the responsibility for collecting the relevant samples. Teal'c had initially made himself the silent shadow of a petite woman assigned to inspect and fingerprint every part of the SUV and every surface within it. She remained determinedly nonchalant throughout the initial inventory, even when Colonel O'Neill had to explain the metaphor 'breathing down her neck' to Teal'c. However, once he peered in the third successive window she was trying to fingerprint, she started to get a bit wigged. O'Neill had had to explain that term to the incredibly literal (and bald) alien as well; by this point, Jack was nearly sure Teal'c was enjoying the - probably unnecessary - slang lessons. The fifth time the tech dropped her fingerprint powder out of sheer nervousness, her boss had called O'Neill over and politely asked him to have Teal'c take a breather. Jack just groaned at the politely curious look on his teammate's face. The colonel didn't know why Teal'c was tormenting him in this subtle fashion, but it needed to stop.
Once O'Neill had explained 'take a breather' (which he knew Teal'c knew, dammit!), the Jaffa had silently inclined his head and then faded into the background. Coincidentally, that fading had taken him just far enough away from the car to follow the efforts of the two techs quartering the rest of the scene. He spent the rest of the afternoon dividing his eagle eye between O'Neill's concentration on the vehicle search, Anderson's supervision of the outlook sample collection and the techs' quest to retrieve forensic traces off the asphalt. Who knew there were so many ways to say 'you missed a spot' without actually uttering the words?
After dusk, which coincided with the last of the search, the techs had seen their tormentor pause near the sample collection kits and give a grave nod in Colonel O'Neill's direction. The colonel had given a grim little head shake in return and informed them that all the material they'd collected, including any digital or photographic images, was now classified as a matter of national security. They were instructed to turn the evidence over to him - and the anal-retentive mountain of muscle - for further processing. He'd barely gotten through the speech when their site boss took exception to it. The resulting commotion had attracted the attention of the resident Fed.
That was 21 hours ago and the argument over custody of this evidence was still on going. For the first six hours the techs had been on the side of truth, justice, and possession being nine-tenths of the law. However, when the man-mountain gripped the handles of the evidence cart and stared at them… Their boss had muttered that he wasn't sure whether he wanted to never see the big guy again or recruit him for their seedier crime scenes. After all, an eye for detail and all that brawn – not to mention that Look! That had even gotten a half-smile out of Tio. At roughly 1 a.m., a low-ranking night shift CSI had turned up for guard duty and they had cheerfully abandoned their posts, sure that the evidence would be theirs by tomorrow.
Well, it was tomorrow. And the evidence still wasn't theirs. Actually, the CSI's were on loan to the FBI in this case, since the local FBI office was understaffed and the national park was under federal jurisdiction rather than state. So, technically, their office was already out of the running in the evidence sweepstakes, but they stayed to protect the chain of custody for the eventual winner. As long as it was the FBI or the National Park Service. If the Air Force managed to get this stuff classified, the man-mountain would take it off to whatever black hole he worked in and they'd never be able to figure out exactly which of the blood drops, hairs, fibers and photos was a threat to national security. They were just the tiniest bit tempted to take a few more samples and find out for themselves, but the man-mountain's eagle eye was upon them. No dice.
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The CSI techs couldn't tell, but Teal'c wasn't paying them any attention at all. Well, none beyond his usual instinctive threat assessment. His eyes never left the naqahdah-laced samples they'd secured on a cart as he stood in his casual parade rest, arms linked behind his waist and head cocked attentively. However, he was fiercely following the debate in the security chief's office behind them via his superior hearing. That's why Teal'c tensed and pivoted to face the brisk steps coming from the direction of the video monitoring room before the techs even knew they had company.
"JonasQuinn, are you well?"
"Teal'c! I'm so glad to find you. Do you know where the colonel is right now?" Jonas came to a halt in front of his large teammate and glanced around the hallway with a distracted air.
"I believe he is discussing the terms of a security decree issued this morning. All the evidence you see here has been classified and will be released into our possession." Teal'c's faint disappointment could only be heard by someone who knew him well. Not that he thought DoctorFraiser's ability to pull clues from the evidence was any worse than the techs'. It was more accurately a feeling that he and his team would locate MajorCarter more quickly with civilian assistance.
"What's to discuss?" Jonas frowned. "If it's classified, no one else can take it. And if we have orders to collect it and transport it…"
"I believe the idea of classifying these samples is the heart of the contention. After an airman arrived with the initial orders, the security chief invited the airman and ColonelO'Neill to perform an anatomical impossibility. AgentAnderson speculated on the species of O'Neill's mother, then they moved the discussion inside the chief's office. The airman retreated to his vehicle to await our departure." Teal'c related the battle's initial salvo while concentrating on the current engagement. ChiefLudlow was louder, but O'Neill seemed confident of victory.
However, something in AgentAnderson's tone made Teal'c wary. The gentle peacemaker he had heard described by JonasQuinn and the calm professional agent he'd observed at the crime scene had dissolved into a female version of O'Neill. Well, not precisely. But AgentAnderson was sarcastic, intelligent, observant, determined, and stubborn to the point of hoarseness. The parallels were unmistakable.
"Ah. Oh." Jonas was stuck between really wanting to know the colonel's response to those goads and really not wanting to draw his teammate's attention from the discussion. "How long have they been… discussing?"
"They have been debating a course of action for quite some time, JonasQuinn. If they do not come to an agreement by 1600 hours, ColonelO'Neill instructed me to contact GeneralHammond and have him 'make some calls'. After he does so, I believe the obese woman will perform a song. Why do you inquire?"
Jonas frowned. "Oh. Well, I've been in the video lab with Agent Tapping and two rangers for most of the day. I wanted to know if there was anything new before we made our report to General Hammond." He leaned closer to his teammate and murmured, "I actually wanted to get out of there for a little while. Ever since Chris divided us up yesterday, when they had their little meeting down the hall while we discussed, ah, national security, Tapping has been depressed and grouchy. I hoped I'd find someone in a better mood out here."
"That is not likely," Teal'c stated baldly, glancing menacingly at the gathered techs. "The opposition to the security decree is widespread. I do not believe that O'Neill is making any progress in convincing ChiefLudlow and AgentAnderson that we are the best caretakers of the evidence."
In the small silence after Teal'c spoke, an angry bellow rang out from the nearby office. All heads but Teal'c's swiveled to the security chief's door. The sound of a meaty fist pounding on a desk carried through the hollow wood.
"How long till you're supposed to call Hammond?" Jonas inquired.
"Approximately three minutes," Teal'c replied, opening his huge hand to show a tiny cell phone.
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Security Chief's Office, Administration Building
Grand Canyon National Park, AZ
Downtime Day 12, midafternoon, 30 minutes later
"Boy, I don't know how you did this and you just better hope I never find out! Who the hell do you think you are, coming in here and turning my park upside down and then tellin' me exactly diddly squat!" Chief Ludlow's lean, sun darkened cheeks held a crimson flush as he bellowed. "And after me and my staff bend over backwards to help you, this is the thanks we get!"
Agent Christina Anderson of the FBI and Colonel Jack O'Neill of the US Air Force sat bolt upright in their chairs as the security chief thundered. Agent Anderson was completely expressionless as she focused on the lanky 'military observer' who had so complicated her investigation. And Jack O'Neill concentrated on not gloating or snapping anyone's head off while maintaining a proper military posture. Slouching just didn't go with matters of national security… outside the mountain at least.
"Who the hell do you know in Washington anyway? I'm no damned conspiracy theorist, but this just isn't right. What the hell are you tryin' to hide?" Ludlow wound up to a point of speechless rage and had to settle for glaring until his blood pressure settled into human range again.
They'd been at this on and off all afternoon. He, the colonel and the agent would negotiate almost to the point of agreement about jurisdictions and procedures and reporting channels, but then the matter of testing and keeping the evidence would come up in a new and less acceptable way and they'd all start shouting again. None of them could give up or change their positions much, although each screaming match between two participants led to the third calling a truce and letting them all gather new instructions and fresh ammunition from their bosses. Every partial compromise was hard won and fragile, and it was inevitably destroyed in the next round of argument. This could go on forever. Ludlow was bone tired and hoarse and he glared at O'Neill before a flick of his eyes tagged Agent Anderson as the new prosecutor for the civilian side.
A nearly expressionless soprano took over the questioning. Any sensible debater might have welcomed a sweet voice of reason right about now, but O'Neill wasn't about to get one to his liking. "I fail to see how you can have the entire body of evidence classified, Colonel. Your justification is less than convincing. So far all we have is a letter from a local Air Force base authorizing transportation of your team and any baggage or samples on the next available aircraft. That doesn't automatically give you the right to walk off with my case." Christina Anderson had been the managing peacemaker since the first moment they met, but hours of frustration and bureaucratic wrangling had worn away her immense patience.
"And I keep telling you that this is the only order I have in writing because it's the only order that's local. My boss, General George Hammond, has gotten permission from the Pentagon to take the evidence back to our base. I spoke to him and to Major Davis, the liaison from the Joint Chiefs, earlier today." O'Neill's olive complexion was limned with a red undertone just as his voice strained for a polite tone. "Now, I told you both this yesterday and again when we met this morning; you've been a great help, thanks for letting us play with your toys and in your sandbox." His glare swept Anderson and Ludlow in order. "Now it's time to go home and the evidence is coming home with us. It's classified, for cryin' out loud!"
"And as I told you earlier, I don't work for the Air Force, I work for the FBI! I don't care who told you what – unless and until I hear otherwise from my boss that evidence is mine! You haven't shown me a damn bit of proof so far that the evidence has anything to do with national security." Anderson's hands crept to her hips even as she kept her seat.
"The paperwork is coming. It's not my fault there's a snag in the red tape!" O'Neill snapped back. He couldn't decide whether to smack Paul Davis on the back of his skull for dropping him into the middle of this mess or take the man out for a beer to apologize for all the stupid stuff he must've gone through for SG-1 over the years. He tiredly shook his head; he'd endured Goa'uld ribbon devices to the brain less painful than this.
"Look, let's be reasonable about this," Ludlow rasped wearily.
"I am being reasonable!" Jack retorted. "I could've just gotten Teal- Tio to grab the blood in the middle of the night and left you people to figure it out!"
If Anderson had ever struck him as the sweet-talking good-cop type, he knew better now. She fairly pounced on his admission with all ten claws. "And we would have pursued you back to your oh-so-secret base and arrested you for obstruction of justice! And that's before I got creative!"
Jack locked eyes with his former ally… well, the agent most likely to be on his side. Right about now he'd take big, snide Tapping over this too-clever verbal street fighter with her inch-long manicured nails. He wanted to call the damned cliché writers' guild and correct a little oversight of theirs. 'Don't judge a book by its cover' should have included 'or its first few chapters, especially if you like them'. This argument was taking time that Carter might not have. If he weren't dependent on Jonas and Tapping finding the probable kidnappers in the DMV records, he'd have busted his team out of here – with the evidence – last night.
"Colonel O'Neill, if I remember my biology correctly, every animal on this planet has blood." Anderson's saccharine sarcasm made his teeth ache. "Why should the presence of Samantha Carter's blood samples shut down the entire investigation? The presence of blood at the scene of an assault is not a matter of national security!"
"Carter's is," Jack insisted. Inside he cursed his slip of the tongue. Over the last few hours of negotiation he had managed to keep the SGC's true interest to himself, but he'd just given Anderson ammunition to blast away at any logical foundation for his claim to all the evidence. If he kept this up, pretty soon he'd fall down exhausted and let them take his blood to analyze if they wanted it.
"How exactly is that possible?" Christina Anderson replied, her sarcasm not abating. "And why would all the other trace elements get lumped together with it if all you wanted was the blood sample?"
"Can't tell ya. It's classified." His weary expression of unholy glee made the agent's blood boil.
"That's the most idiotic thing I've heard during this entire investigation," she snapped.
"And having met your partner, I think that's an accomplishment," O'Neill returned in his classic sarcastic tone.
"Oh, I always had faith you could top him," she remarked sweetly. "And you didn't answer my question. You just admitted you only want the blood!"
O'Neill struggled briefly for a cutting reply to her counter taunt. He also searched frantically for a way to distract or obfuscate his non-response to her demand. He came up blank, but what did you expect after hours of this crap?
Ludlow choked on a laugh as the phone rang. He scowled as he snatched up the handset. "I thought I said not to put any calls through!" His expression went straight to shocked as he said, "Put him through. Yes, I'll hold."
O'Neill and Anderson abandoned their sniping contest to listen, though neither was under the illusion that their contest was over. Their curiosity was quickly rewarded.
"Yessir," Chief Ludlow's face blanched as he came to a seated form of attention. "Yessir, I understand. Well, sir, it's just not usual for us to have this kind of problem and then to have it unsolved… No, sir, I don't. Well, sir, if someone had made that clear from the start… No, sir, I'm not blaming Agent Anderson or Colonel O'Neill. Yessir, I can do that. Fine, sir. No, thank you." He put the handset gently back down on the base and faced the silent pair for an eternal moment.
"Colonel O'Neill, remember when I said I wanted to know who you knew in Washington? How 'bout I don't ask and you don't tell me." Anderson stared at their host as O'Neill stifled a wry grin at the security chief's twist on that infamous phrase. Ludlow continued in a daze. "I don't know or care how, but that stuff's officially top secret, are-you-now-or-have-you-ever-been, don't-call-us-we'll-call-you, I'd-tell-you-but-then-I'd-have-to-kill-you classified."
Jack was quietly impressed by Ludlow's turn of stolen phrases as he clamped down further on his triumphant amusement. Senator Joe McCarthy, the Tok'ra and the CIA all in the same sentence? His inner Mr. Burns wiped desiccated hands together and hissed 'Ex-cel-lent'. And he was getting the evidence, too.
Anderson, her suspicions already aroused, asked the obvious question. "Okay, so who was that?"
"That, Agent Anderson, was the President of the United States." O'Neill's smug voice cut across Anderson's query and the chief's stupor. She gave him a 'yeah, right' glare and turned to Ludlow.
He shook his head in wonder. "Not quite."
Jack scowled at the phone and wondered who the heck Hammond had called if not The Big Guy.
"That was the Secretary of the Interior on speakerphone with the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. As far as this office is concerned, that's two steps from God. Colonel, call your general and tell him we'll release the evidence within the hour." Ludlow gathered himself from behind the desk with a brisk, I-was-never-speechless nod and went to notify his deputies.
That left Chris and Jack in the office with the speakerphone as Jonas filed in. Jack quirked his eyebrow at his teammate and peered around him.
"Teal- Tio's watching the evidence," Jonas responded.
Jack grunted and punched the speakerphone button. Then he turned to Anderson and said, "Did you need something?"
"Yes," she responded sweetly with a shark's smile. "I need to speak to General Hammond."
"I don't think so," Jack replied, all politeness gone.
"Funnily enough, I do. Either you call him with me here or I'll use my cell phone, but I'm talking to your boss."
Her implacable ire made Jack pause. Throughout the entire investigation she'd been the grown up, the calm-cool-and-collected one who kept them all on track. Ever since he announced that the investigation was over for all intents and purposes and, by the way, all the evidence was now off limits and leaving with him, he'd seen a side of her that proved valid all the clichés about redheads and tempers. He really hated clichés. Added-on-to or not.
"Listen, Anderson –" But Jack was cut off before he began.
"Do you need me to give you the number?" Chris asked, as if he were a child too young or too stupid to remember his own digits.
"Fine! I'm calling," Jack snarled. "But when he boots you off the case, don't take it out on my team."
As the colonel dialed, Jonas gave Agent Anderson his best apologetic smile. She didn't respond verbally, but she rose from her seat and came to the edge of the guys' personal space without offering violence to either one of them. That had to be a step in the right direction.
"Yeah, Colonel O'Neill for General Hammond, please." Jack turned to block his teammate from the agent's line of sight. "You find anything?" he muttered to the Kelownan.
"Nope," Jonas replied. The colonel gave him a vaguely disgusted glare.
Suddenly the speakerphone burst into life. "Colonel O'Neill?"
"General, Jonas and I were about to give you an update on the evidence, but we've got a stubborn civilian here who won't leave." His gaze clashed with Chris' from a fairly short distance. He saw her open her mouth to protest and sneered. "Excuse me. We have a stubborn federal agent. She says she won't leave until she can speak to you." Jack's gaze never wavered as his frustration lashed Anderson.
Hammond sighed over the line. "I think I can guess who. I have Jacob Carter here as well," he informed them.
Jack closed his eyes for an intense second before speaking quietly. "I'm really sorry about this, Dad."
Christina spoke before Jacob Carter could respond. "Colonel Jake, I'm sorry, too. I know this is upsetting. I'm working as hard as I can to find Sam and I promise I won't give up until she's safe."
Jonas looked sharply back at his commanding officer and mouthed, 'Colonel Jake'? O'Neill gave a bewildered shrug.
"Please don't take this the wrong way, George, Colonel Jake" she continued, "but what the hell were the two of you thinking?"
And a loaded silence fell.
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AN:Be honest. Who saw that coming? ;-)
A particularlysupercalifragilisticexpialidocious thank you to technetium, beta extraordinaire, and my editrix for their patience and support. As usual, the good stuff is better because of their help and the bad stuff is my doing, not theirs.Onekick-ass line in particular here belongs to technetium - see if you can guess which one I mean. The winner gets... well, something non-monetary but heartfelt.
Thanks to everyone who reviewed (you know who you are... and so do I - mwah!). I decided to post this because I got a particularly detailed review for the last chapter AND I overcame major plotter's block for the next section. Yay feedback! Yay brain cells! I hope you all enjoyed this part and I am, as always, COMPLETELY GRATEFUL for those of you who tell me what you liked (or hated) and why. Your opinions make it that much easier for me to write - either I know you like the same parts I did or I know I'm not saying what I mean to... or I just have a freaky sense of humor. That, too. ;-)