Chapter 3

General Hammond shifted uncomfortably in his chair as he pulled out the last of his photos. Unlike the several files waiting for his attention, these photos were of a more personal nature, encased in small frames and set about his desk as a reminder to a life outside this buried base. Sometimes he needed every reminder he could get.

The stress of the job was already getting to him. On the one side there were people like Maybourne and the NID who wanted their chance at the growing mutant population and on the other there were people like Senator Kinsey who wanted to turn the project into a detainment camp and ultimately, though the senator was careful never to actually say it, a mass termination facility. Kinsey had no love for mutants.

And finally, beneath the growing school, buried so far underground only a handful of people had high enough clearance to know it existed, there was the ring. Apparently it had been around for decades, but it was only now that it drew attention, now when the scientists who had been given access to it were finally approaching something of a break through. No one knew what it did, just that it must do something. This was no ancient monument; this was a technological device made from a material that was found to be alien to everything the scientist's knew. The likely conclusion was that it was alien to this planet.

The doorway to heaven, that was what they were calling it. That was what the experts had translated, and even they couldn't say what it did. For all they knew, it could be a very advanced, power draining electric chair. All they knew was that it spun, with the help of a dialing program, designed by one Dr. Samantha Carter. No one could think of it as anything other than dialing, the obvious resemblance to a phone too much to ignore. Around it were glyphs, glyphs that no one could translate but that all the experts agreed must somehow be Egyptian in nature. So far, the dialing program had managed to lock into place six glyphs, based upon the only number they had been given. Apparently it wasn't enough. Or the machine was simply broken, but too advanced in nature for anyone to even begin to understand the problem. Hopefully that would change soon. The higher ups were getting antsy for results, not satisfied with their progress.

The scientists were not much happier with the sudden military presence. Nor did they care for the sudden flow of new recruits to their ranks in the labs, many taking it as a message that their own skills are lacking. The added difficulty surrounding the mutant phenomenon meant that paranoia was at a new high. Mutants did not trust the military; they did not want to become lab specimens, nor did they want to become pawns in power games or war tactics. Trying to blend all of the different groups with all of their different objectives was enough to give anyone a headache. If Hammond hadn't known that he was needed he probably would have fled right back into retirement.

But he was needed. They needed someone in charge, someone of high rank, who could represent the mutants' best interest. In short, they needed a mutant already of high rank within the system. Not only were mutants rarer in the older generations, but in the military they seemed practically non-existent. If there was another general with mutant abilities, he was keeping very quiet. Hammond sighed, settling back into his chair and surveyed the photo arrangement. Tessa and Kayla would not grow up in a world where being a mutant was synonymous to being a leper.

"General Hammond," a voice announced at the door and he looked up to see a woman advanced in age but spry in spirit entering his office.

"Ms. Langford," he greeted her, standing up.

"Stargate," she announced, a bright twinkle in her eye, "That is the name for this program of yours." She handed him a piece of paper covered in hieroglyphics. Beneath the Egyptian symbols was the translation, scrawled in a swift but legible hand.

"Dr. Jackson has done it," she announced, an almost smug note to her voice, "He will solve the ring."

"I thought Dr. Jackson was taken to the infirmary," Hammond answered, frowning slightly as he looked over the translation. The symbols on the page were vaguely familiar but the translation he had been given was changed, the most obvious being the name for the ring.

"He must be allowed to see the ring," Catherine insisted in a firm voice. She said nothing on why Dr. Jackson was translating the inscription when he was supposed to be being treated for a severe panic attack.

"I'm afraid I can't allow that," General Hammond answered, his voice filled with real regret. From what he knew of Dr. Jackson's mutant abilities, he could probably solve their mystery just by touching the ring. Unfortunately, there was still enough anti-mutant paranoia coupled with a fear of a security breach that he hadn't been given authorization. Dr. Jackson was there for his translation expertise, not his mutant abilities. "He will have to make do with the cover stone." Catherine mumbled something in reply that wasn't in English; if Hammond had to guess he'd say German.

"Has he been shown the cover stone yet?" Hammond asked when it seemed Catherine had finished.

"No," she answered, "He has not, in fact, been released by your infirmary staff. There have been problems with him taking the elevator."

"Claustrophobia wasn't it?" Hammond asked, having only had time to glance at the reports.

"No," she answered, "Sensory anxiety zoning." Hammond nodded his head slightly, despite having no idea what that meant. There was another item on the agenda: take a closer look at the medical files. He glanced once again towards the photos, suppressing a sigh, before he turned his attention back on Catherine Langford.

"He will solve your ring," she insisted, "He will open the Stargate."

'''''''''''''''''''

Samantha Carter marched forward with a steady resolve, determined to make her way despite the fact that she felt utterly lost. It wasn't the stark uniformity of the military walls that left her befuddled; she was used to military bases having grown up on any number of them. She wasn't even lost in any literal sense, knowing exactly where she was going and how to reach there. It was more a sensation that reached into her soul, the isolated hopelessness that was as familiar as it was wretched. She felt it every time her father's job meant moving to a new location; uprooted and friendless, the weight of having to prove herself all over again to a new set of faces.

She had only been there for one week and already she had stepped on a few toes. Though many of the other scientists were friendly, some openly in awe of her reputation, others seemed to resent her unwanted intrusion upon their research. The research itself was surprisingly familiar; it seemed that much of the work they were doing was based upon her own research. She even remembered an odd puzzle or two that she had been given back in Area 51 which, at the time, she hadn't been told to what it related. Now, she could clearly see her own results. If anything, this revelation annoyed her because she could also see her own flaws. Top secret paranoia meant she had had to work in the dark, and now that she had a better understanding of what they were trying to do she could already see the bugs in the system.

Pointing out these flaws, while endearing her to those of the overawed faction, had rankled with others as she pulled apart two years of hard work. To others her very personality seemed to irritate. To the military personnel they disapproved of working alongside civilians; to fellow scientists she came off as too military for their liking. Then there was the ever present hostility towards her being a woman. In fact, the only resentment she had become familiar with over the years that she didn't encounter was towards her being a mutant. That, at least, was refreshingly accepted.

Within the week she had also discovered an ally, a friend who accepted her for who she was without revering her. Like Sam, she was spurned for her intelligence and her civilian status coupled with strength of will. Now, as the dismal lost feeling pervaded Sam, her steps unerringly led her away from the labs to seek companionship, and perhaps go for a bite to eat. Finally, her steady stride took her into the infirmary, one of the newer and still growing additions to the facility. Having already suffered through an embarrassingly thorough physical, Sam confidently made her way through the infirmary towards Janet's office.

The doctor was there, just as Sam had hoped. She was sitting at her desk, looking over a set of patient's records with an intense concentration, despite the fact that Sam knew she should be on break now.

"Janet?" Sam called, knocking on the door frame and the small doctor jumped slightly, giving a startled look towards the door.

"Sam?" she asked, then glanced at the clock in surprise. "I was just going over a new addition," she explained as she closed the file and eased away from her desk, "It's fascinating how many mutant abilities actually endanger the very person the abilities serve. And quite often everything we know about medicine just doesn't…but we were going to lunch, weren't we?"

"I don't mind listening," Sam insisted as they started out of the infirmary, "So long as you don't mind me going on about subatomic reactions." This time Sam walked with an easy gait, her stance relaxed. The dismal, lost feeling that had been growing all day evaporated in a moment with the laughter of her friend.

'''''''''''

Colonel Jack O'Neill, sitting in a room brimming with activity and noise, had never felt so alone. An island of ice amidst the warm and bustling cafeteria, he sat isolated by his rank and stoic demeanor. In many ways, this was exactly what he wanted. He had been frozen from the moment the news had come. His boy was dead. He was killed for being a mutant with his mother. Jack hadn't been able to protect him; he wasn't even there. They had died alone while he was far from home doing the business of his country.

Ice had been his son's power. To let go of the ice that surrounded his heart would be to let go of his son. He would not let go.

"Hey Colonel," a voice permeated his silence and he turned his eyes to see the friendly attention of a man holding a tray. Reluctantly, Jack nodded his head inviting him to sit.

"Kowalski," he said and then, "Ferretti," as another person joined them. Sometimes, there was no escaping friends. Sometimes, Jack was no longer sure that he wanted to. Then his wandering eyes took in another figure, looking slightly lost as he gazed around the full room. Dr. Daniel Jackson, Jack repeated to himself, civilian scientist, sensory empath. The man finally settled on a table not far from Jack's where two women had waved him over. He hadn't seen Jack. Jack didn't know whether to feel relieved or disappointed.

"So you actually are taking a break, Dr. Jackson?" the smaller woman asked with a warm smile as Daniel sat down, "And at a decent hour too!" Jack missed his reply when Ferretti finally managed to pull his attention back towards them.

"Scientists and civilians," he announced with a theatrical shudder, "We really hit the jackpot with this assignment."

"Yeah," Jack answered dutifully, but soon his eyes turned once again towards long hair and glasses covering blue eyes. He was startled when a wave of concern broke momentarily over his icy interior and his eyes snapped back towards Kowalski and Ferretti. Sensory empath, he remembered, he must have started to mimic the scientist's power without even realizing. He made more of an effort to follow their conversation, though he remained quiet himself, finally allowing a small smile to break at their antics. He would never let go of the ice, he knew that, but maybe…maybe he could still feel the sun.