From Here to Alternity: Canon minus A Major: Good News, Bad News
I do not own "Stargate: SG-1" or its characters or plotlines. That's reserved for Gekko, Double Secret, MGM/Sony, SciFiChannel, etc.
If I did: a) Daniel and Teal'c would do battle naked in a ring of Jell-oon a weekly basis; b) Sam wouldcheer for the blue jell-o contenderfrom the pool table as she earned enoughmoney hustling gorgeous guest stars to fund the entire program, and; c) O'Neill would have found SOME reason to do the Pee-Wee Herman 'Tequila' dance over the six years I've seen. Possibly more than once if I had any rights to "Window of Opportunity". ;-)
So, me no own. Please not to sue. Or snicker too loudly.
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Security Chief's Office, Administration Building
Grand Canyon National Park, AZ
Downtime Day 12, late afternoon
Jack O'Neill sat his weary bones down in a chair in front of the chief's desk and rubbed his eyes. In the forty-five minutes since Agent Chris 'Tina' Anderson had reluctantly left them to their own devices, Generals Hammond and Carter had managed to conference in Major Davis, get SG-1's orders faxed to a machine down the hall, argue ferociously about Agent Anderson and what she could know, and run him and Jonas ragged making arrangements to get this whole mess shipped to Colorado ASAP. He was actually looking forward to getting into Doc Fraiser's clutches once Carter was found. Rest and milkshakes. Fishing shows on Jonas' TV. Oh, and donuts. 'Do-nuts…' his inner Homer Simpson drooled. He smiled.
Of course, that was the intergalactic signal for the office door behind him to come slinging back on its hinges and nearly splatter his head all over the wall.
"What the hell?" O'Neill sputtered as nearly 300 pounds of pissy Jaffa came barreling in the door, followed by a Kelownan pushing an overburdened evidence cart and a tiny, furious redhead.
"According to Jaffa tradition, I must now inform you that I seek the death of Agent Michael Tapping." Teal'c's threat boomed over the phone lines to Cheyenne Mountain and snapped George and Jacob to attention.
"I second that," Jonas scowled.
"I thought we agreed on dismemberment first," Agent Anderson snarled furiously.
O'Neill's eyes widened as Teal'c began to pace in the minute office. "Okay, now I gotta know. T, the last time you talked like that was… four years ago. What happened?"
Jonas squinted curiously at his team leader. "Four years ago?"
"Maybourne," Jack muttered, casting an eye towards the FBI Agent in their midst. As Jonas nodded his understanding, Jack asked, "So what's going on?"
"You won't believe what that… that… slimeball did! He had the nerve to –"
"This ha'taka has no honor! He has endangered a fellow warrior through – "
"Of course, dismemberment is a wee bit messy. Beheading? Or a pitchfork carrying mob? Ooo, with torches –"
"QUIET!" roared Selmak and Hammond in unison.
The chief's office went pin-drop silent. Jonas, who'd heard the metallic Goa'uld voice clearly, and Jack, who knew how acute Anderson's observations were, glanced at each other in suppressed panic. Teal'c simmered without a sound, but he didn't seem to care that they may have provoked a breech of security. Hammond and Jacob could almost be heard wincing over the secure line.
Christina Anderson looked at the phone, looked at the guys in the room with her, and looked at the phone again. "Okay, then," she said breezily. "Now, I'd ask if you want the good news or the bad news first, but I'm still too pissed off to care what you want or what you two are hiding from me. So, the bad news..."
A general (and General) babble arose after she broke the silence. The sound ebbed and flowed for thirty seconds of meaningless cacophony before Anderson broke out the shrieking whistle she'd demonstrated during their first meeting in this office. As before, she got silence in response.
"Okay, George? Colonel Jake? Read my lips: I. Don't. Care." Anderson gestured imperiously towards the two other seats in the room and Jonas sunk into one. Teal'c was, of course, unmoved. "I don't care what Tio's real name is. I don't care what the name of his tribe is or from what bizarre culture that tattoo he keeps trying to hide originates. I don't care what voice effectColonel Jake was playing with instead of paying attention. So chill out and listen up. Your turns to talk will come." Anderson's controlling tone held them all spellbound as she stalked to the vacant seat and sat down. "Personally, I think your turns should wait until we barbecue my soon-to-be-ex-partner's entrails over an open flame, but that's just me." And she folded her arms over her chest and waited for their reaction.
Jack couldn't resist. "Mmmm. Entrails." His Homer voice brought a tiny snicker from Jonas and an ease of Teal'c's frown.
Anderson and the two generals ignored him, although she did shoot him an exasperated look. He gave it a four out of ten on the Fraiser scale.
"Tina –" Hammond tried.
"Aht!" she squelched with a universal 'talk to the hand' gesture. She took the floor again and stepped closer to the phone; pacing was the only thing that kept her enraged exuberance leashed. "My turn now. For the bad news." She faltered for a moment and dropped into Chief Ludlow's desk chair.
"I think I'll be sanctioned and possibly fired within the week. Tapping heard us talking through the open door earlier and he's beyond pissed. Usually, he's a great guy, but this case has brought out the jerk in him and he's determined to believe the worst of you guys. And me." A flicker of pain vanished into her usual unflappable agent mask. That might have fooled the guys before her non-professional personality came to the fore, but the lack of animation on her face only accented the depth of her hurt.
"Tina, why would you be sanctioned?" Jacob asked in his own voice.
She gave a little sigh, but Jonas jumped in to answer the question before she had time. "I think her… relationship to Sam precludes her from involvement with the investigation. She's supposedly too personally involved to objectively investigate. I'm guessing that you didn't tell your boss right away?"
Chris nodded as a disgruntled frown unfroze her face. "Plus, Tapping has a rule book stuck up his ass for situations just like this. I thought that there was enough time and distance between me and George that no one would care if I opened the investigation for him. I didn't really expect to find anything here, so it wouldn't have been a problem. But now we have an interdepartmental brouhaha because of the classified materials and military involvement." She glowered at the phone in case the disgusted frustration in her voice wasn't clear enough. "Plus, there was a little incident early in my career. When my first partner was framed for destroying and fabricating evidence in an investigation of an NID office, he got convicted and I got 'administratively disciplined' for pursuing the investigation and trying to prove his innocence. So there's a strike against me already."
Jack and Jonas had both jerked a little as Chris mentioned the NID, but it stood to reason that the main civilian investigative agency charged with finding public corruption would cross swords with the NID sooner or later. A considering frown crossed Jonas' face as he contemplated the repercussions of Chris' admission. From what he read, a letter in her file wouldn't be enough to get Chris fired from the FBI, but the NID made a powerful enemy with a long and vicious institutional memory. If it felt threatened by Chris' cooperation with SG-1, there was no telling what could happen to her career. Maybe even her life.
"Sooner or later, I'm toast. I might not actually be fired for this, since it's not a huge ethics violation, but I have a feeling the Bureau's going to want a scapegoat if this case gets messy. Which it has. And I'm definitely off the investigation as soon as Michael can make his case to our boss." Her matter-of-fact tone couldn't hide a flavor of stunned grief infusing her words.
The men within earshot could sympathize with her sudden plight. All of them were doing a job they loved and/or were born to do, and more than once the SGC or the Tok'ra had been threatened with permanent annihilation. Losing your life's work was a lot more devastating than just being fired. Not that being fired didn't suck enough. Of course, none of them would've chosen differently, either. Every man within earshot was a member of Sam Carter's blood or honorary family and none would be happy handing the search over to, say, SG-3 under the direct command of the Pentagon. Because they were "too close" to the investigation, they'd each rather give up their life's work than be excluded and forced to rely on others to find Sam and bring her home.
"How long do you have?" Hammond asked quietly.
Christina sighed. "Well, it's past business hours on the East Coast and my boss is busy this week with his granddaughter's high school graduation. Normally he lives in his office, but I have it on good authority that he's strictly a nine-to-fiver for the next few days. Or else." She leaned forward and propped her elbows on the desk, hands twined in a prayerful pose of intense thought. "So despite his most frantic efforts, Tapping can't get me reassigned until the morning after tomorrow. Tomorrow is the actual graduation day and the director will be incommunicado all day. That gives us a window."
"A window to what?" Jacob asked patiently.
"And here comes the good news." She flashed a shark-like smile at the phone. "We've got a lead on Sam."
A second's silence preceded tumult from the generals and O'Neill. Jonas and Teal'c already knew this much. It was the source of their bloodlust.
"Hang on!" Jonas shouted. "Let her tell you. We've only got the bare facts from her, not the lead itself!"
"Talk." Teal'c's demand was as ominous as an avalanche's rumble. It silenced the other men as they tuned in to her every breath.
"Well, the 'dancing about on his grave, singing alleluias' discussion has a few facets. The first one is that while we were having our earlier conversation, Tapping traced the van registration back to its owners. The second part, and the part that has me voting for disembowelment, is that he hid that information from all of us because he was pissed at me. The third part is the actual lead, which I got from Robert Alvarez approximately seven minutes ago. This is his recollection as verbatim as I can recall it." Chris closed her eyes and began to remember aloud.
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Video Surveillance Monitoring Room, Administration Building
Grand Canyon National Park, AZ
Downtime Day 12, earlier this afternoon
"Found it!"
Ranger Robert Alvarez whipped his head around to watch the FBI agent fairly wriggling in his chair with delight. That was a huge change from the behavior he'd displayed for the last interminable 24 hours. Agent Michael Tapping had spent yesterday either hooking up 'the kid with the photographic memory' to various databases or calling his partner everytwenty minutes. So far the line of people willing to strangle him included everyone who'd come into the video room or had to deal with his partner's increasing crankiness. By agent-in-charge fiat Anderson had declared herself "fine, Michael" and turned her cell phone's ringer off except for hourly status reports by yesterday afternoon. Tapping had been sulking in caffeinated silence ever since. If he weren't so dedicated to following the white van's registration through an interstate maze of Department of Motor Vehicles databases, the FBI would be out one special agent by now. Unfortunately, he seemed to be making the only progress so far.
Not that he was the only one working. The facial recognition programs had shown Jonas Quinn possible partial matches for video stills of Major Carter's assailants for the last twenty-four hours. After a frustrating and fruitless evening, night and morning scanning the FBI, TSA, NSA and CIA offerings, the young man had gone to check on his friends' progress with the argument over classifying the evidence collected yesterday. In other circumstances he might have enjoyed perusing the information available on hypersecure servers, but by the time they broke for lunch today he'd cursed the invention of the World Wide Web. Neither Deputy Alvarez nor the rotating parade of park rangers helping him had managed to get an image of the escaping van on local traffic cameras. It was as if the damn thing had generated its own black hole.
"Uh, 'found it'?" Robert inquired gingerly. The atmosphere in the room had gone from cordial to poisonous in a very short time, and it was hovering on the venomous side. Not only were they getting no answers, the fight over custody of the evidence had spilled over to a temporary truce that was tensing with each unsuccessful search. Jonas was a good kid, and no one could blame him if he'd cut out as soon as he got a chance.
"What is he talking about?" Alvarez's assistant grumped.
"I don't know," Alvarez said. "Agent Tapping, what did you find?"
Silence was all he heard.
His assistant tried his own luck. "Agent –"
"What!" Tapping screeched at his screen. Now Alvarez and his assisting ranger colleague were both staring at the rumpled man.
"Whadd'ya mean, 'what'?" the other ranger growled. He'd lost all sense of humor after the fifth hour of fruitlessly skimming roadside cameras. None of them minded painstaking information analysis (usually known as tedious scutwork) in pursuit of the missing major. Tedious scutwork without result, however…
"Agent Tapping?" Alvarez tried again.
Tapping didn't seem to have heard them. His lips moved urgently as he read something fascinating on his laptop screen. He'd first glowed with the satisfaction of a puzzle solved, but now his frown grew deeper with every second. He scowled at the screen and slumped back, raking his fingers through his floppy dark bangs. "Crap!" he muttered.
"Uh, Michael?" Alvarez's assistant contributed. He, too, was ignored.
"Tapping!" Robert barked as the last of his patience left him. It took channeling Colonel O'Neill to finally get the agent's attention. But the tall, dark haired agent didn't seem to realize that they'd been calling his name. When he finally looked up, Alvarez tried to prompt him with, "What!"
Tapping blinked in bewildered irritation. "What 'what!' All I said was crap. That's barely even a curse word."
Robert sighed in irritation. "It wasn't that, Agent Tapping. You said you found something and then you reacted loudly to it. What did you just find?"
Tapping blinked again. "Oh, that. Well, I finally got into the Nevada Department of Motor Vehicles and got their ancient system to search by VIN number. We were kinda right about the falsified plates, by the way, but they weren't stolen. At least I don't think so."
"And?" Alvarez saw the haze of possible researching-stolen-plates methods dancing in the agent's eyes. He exchanged a completely frustrated glance with his assistant as Tapping's attention visibly slipped away from them.
"Agent Tapping, what did you find?" The assistant ranger grasped fleeting patience in his clenched fists and held on.
"I was getting there." Tapping really didn't see his onrushing death in the eyes of his fellow searchers. Strange, that. "The van is registered to a corporate fleet out of Las Vegas, but the corporation name rang a nasty little bell. So I did a Federal Commerce Department and Department of Justice search. I cross-referenced through the Nevada Secretary of State's website..." Tapping's attention threatened to slip away again and Ranger Alvarez rose up in front of him. Tapping noted the change in background not at all. He continued, "And then I realized."
Alvarez and his assistant had a sudden psychic moment. 'If he doesn't get on with it right now, I'll kill him. A lot.' Luckily for Tapping,he kept talking.
"That company is on the watch list for links to illegitimate domestic covert operations. I can't get past the corporate stonewall here, but if I could come up with another angle, I could know for sure..." Tapping scrolled down again, chewing his bottom lip.
The assistant's grip slipped and he struggled to keep his tone even. "What kind of 'illegitimate domestic covert operations'? Corporate espionage? Tax evasion? Links to terrorism?"
Tapping focused momentarily. "Oh. The covert operations are all about gathering information on new technology applications. Some of them seem to be monitoring unusual industrial projects, but there's another kind, too."
"And?" Alvarez prompted. "What other kind would that be?"
"The kind that are funded by an agency I can't get much on. At least not anything I'd need to verify their involvement here. I wonder…"
"The name of the agency?" Robert prompted again. Tapping had commenced navigating his new thought process and barely looked up.
"The agency you were just talking about?" Alvarez's assistant contributed. Tapping gave him a puzzled frown.
"Which! Frickin'! Agency?" Robert Alvarez demanded.
Tapping gave a supremely annoyed look and told him. Alvarez and the other ranger turned to each other, bug-eyed. 'Crap' hardly seemed to cover it.
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Security Chief's Office, Administration Building
Grand Canyon National Park, AZ
Downtime Day 12, late afternoon
"And the agency in question?" Anderson purred. "Everyone's favorite scumbags. The NID."
Another second of silence held them all in its grasp.
"I'll call the President," Hammond offered, moving to hang up the phone. "Let me call you back."
The click on the line was followed by a flash of grim enthusiasm from Jonas and O'Neill. Apparently Tapping was not forgiven.
"Dibs on a pitchfork," Jack called, raising a hand.
"Torch," Jonas grinned fiercely, shooting his arm into the air.
"Machete!" Chris called in berserker joy.
They all turned to Teal'c, who simply flexed his huge hands. They were suitably impressed.
"But there's a problem here, guys," Anderson offered.
"Indeed," Teal'c seconded.
Anderson gave him an odd look, then shook her head. "Okay my problem is that I can't wait here for my boss to call and drag me back to D.C. in disgrace. That does us no good. If you guys are really planning to take this to the NID, you'll need my help."
"Oh, we're pretty good at takin' those guys down," O'Neill bragged. Anderson and Teal'c both raised a brow at that assertion.
"Indeed. But do you not believe there is danger of retaliation for MajorCarter's recent assistance destroying rogue NID operations?" Teal'c's eyebrow rose as he stared O'Neill down. "I believe this abduction is more complicated than it would at first seem."
"You think they're gonna come after us? It's been what, eight weeks? And I thought she and the other guy got the leaders of their little treason club," O'Neill asserted. He had been imprisoned at the time of Carter's crusade with Agent Whatshisname and he'd accidentally forgotten to get a copy of the report to read for the two weeks they'd had before Maybourne's Moon… and all the time afterward. Whoops. Accidents seemed to happen a lot to Jack's paperwork – some of them he didn't even arrange ahead of time.
"I so want to know, but I know better than to ask. 'Classified'." Anderson muttered darkly. Still, any enemy of the NID...
"Sorry," Jonas offered with an apologetic smile.
"Look, I'll let you guys debate specifics later. And I want everything you can tell me about getting around those guys. My ex-partner is still in prison, and if I've got nothing left to lose in the Bureau's eyes…" She shook her head a little and pinned each member of SG-1 with a look. "I can help you by continuing the investigation into Sam's disappearance in the most public way possible. If I can get them focused on my supposed cluelessness, it fosters the illusion that we know nothing about the NID's involvement here.
"I can go to San Diego and give you the cover of normal friends and family interviews, clue collection, federal horning-in on local investigation, all that stuff. We need to make this caselook as normal as possible if you want any chance of taking the NID by surprise. While I'm off making noise and stirring up trouble, you can sneak your samples off to your secret hideout and start collecting real evidence." Her cool recitation couldn't mask the frustration of a born detective watching clues float just out of reach. "I know this case hasn't got a prayer of prosecution now, but I need you to keep me informed of what you find."
"That may not be possible," Colonel O'Neill regretted.
"Look, I know you won't let me into your secret little reindeer gamesthere inthe big ole mountain of doom, but I need to know which NID buttons I need to push to cover what you've found. For that, I have to know at least part of whatthe evidence revealsand what you plan to do with it."
Even obstreperous O'Neill seemed impressed with Anderson's matter-of-fact offer. For a straight laced, squeaky clean good guy she seemed to have an excellent grasp of subterfuge. He decided he liked this warrior woman version of the calm peacemaker they'd seen over the last few days. Too bad she was a Feeb without high enough clearance, because he had a feeling she could've been a real help with tracking the actual rogue NIDguys they wanted.
She continued. "What I need you to know, and to tell the generals, is that I'm taking the car now to pack up my hotel room and book a flight. If you want transportation, one of you needs to come with me and drive the colonel's car back here. That means Tapping willprobably be stranded here, but I frankly don't care since he was holding out on me when he knew how important it was to me to find Sam."
"Asshole," O'Neill supplied for her. The curve of her lips went from pinched to almost grinning as she responded.
"Personally, I was thinking asshat, but you gotta call 'em like you see 'em." Despite her jovial tone, her eyes blazed with betrayal as deep as Tapping's when he found her connection to the case. This was definitely the death knell of their partnership. Only Jonas could see the edge of grief and desperation lingering around her fury. "I'll rent another car and drive to San Diego. That should misdirect any observers and give you a day or two of cover if I leave a paper trail. It might not be much, but it's what I can do to help before I get yanked back to D.C."
"Thank you, Chris. That'll be great," Jonas said softly. He knew what it meant to go against the people who depended on you when you discovered the path to truth diverged from theirs. His sympathy extended along with his hand towards Agent Anderson. "Chris, really. Thanks."
She smiled sadly and shook his hand firmly. She did the same to Jack as he offered his wordless look of gratitude, then offered Teal'c a polite return nod. "This isn't the last you'll see of me, guys. I want to know what you find out about Sam. You tell the generals that – classified or not – I need to know how she is. Can you do that for me?"
"Absolutely," promised O'Neill.
"Indeed," Teal'c agreed as she closed the door behind her, asking the other driver to meet her in the hall after their team conferred.
The men observed a tiny moment of silence before Teal'c spoke up again. "AgentAnderson's offer may be a partial solution to the problem I envisioned."
Jonas cocked his head and asked, "what problem?"
"I believe that we must find assistance within the organization we seek to compel. The NIDmust give up the rogueunits responsible for MajorCarter's abduction," and here the unholy gleam of a 'Jaffa revenge thing' lit Teal'c's eyes, "and return her to us. For that we must have a plan."
"Yeee-ahhhh," Jack drawled, "and how do we plan to do that other than busting in, guns blazing?" He caught Jonas' alarmed look and amended it to, "Okay, fine. Metaphorical guns blazing."
Teal'c's silent raised eyebrow made all the comment he needed. Jonas looked from one team member to the other and slowly began to nod.
"Since the NID brass is so grateful to Major Carter for her help breaking up 'The Committee', this kidnapping has to be off the books. Who better to give up the bad guys than the NID agent they have going after them already?" Jonas sat back in satisfaction. Now this wasa plan he liked. "Plus, he owes us one."
"What makes you think you can trust this guy as far as you can throw him?" O'Neill demanded.
"I do not," Teal'c declared. "However, with superior Jaffa strength, I can throw Agent Barrett quite a distance." His ferocious smile reassured the agent's non-existent fans in the room not one bit.
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Author's Notes:
Hey, guys! Thank you so much for reviewing, those of you who did. I really love to know that people are still interested in this story – it helps me write faster! As for those of you who didn't… I'm probably a lot more like you than I should be. (I lurk, therefore I am.) Still, please review! I like to know what you like, what you hate, what you think will happen to Sam…
We should have all the evidence we need to find Sam in the SGC's possession within the next two chapters. I challenge every one of you (except technetium, who actually knows the answer) to review and let me know your theory. Of course, finding out what actually happened to her is the point of the whole story, so it'll take a while to get there. I hope it's not too obvious.
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious thanks to technetium for the excellent beta reading and wondering how Anderson knew about the NID. You rock! You roll! You wield a wicked hand device! Ouch! ;-) Please be aware, dear readers, that I got all edit-y after technetium saw this last, so any weird construction or awkwardness is my fault.
Also, muchos gracias to my editrix for her ruthless paring skills.