STARGATE SG-1
OUT OF TIME
PART 1
Infection Plus Four Months
It was war. And as far as Jack was concerned, any tactic, any strategy, any advantage he could gain was fair game. The people under his command were his responsibility after all, and if he wasn't going to look out for them, sure as hell no one else would. He'd go to George Hammond himself, if that's what it took. Maybe even the Big Guy on the other end of the red phone. But there was no way in hell he was going to let this situation continue as it was: there would be blue jello in the commissary if he had to hunt down every box in the whole damned military.
"Walt…"
"Yes, sir." The sergeant stood in his office door before he could even get his name out. Spooky how he did that. Kind of creepy too. Like the little guy could read his mind. Jack still wasn't used to having someone constantly at his beck and call. Truth be told, he still wasn't used to a lot of things that had come with the increased paycheck, the better parking space and the pair of single stars that now adorned his shoulders. One of them was having Walter treading on his heels at all hours of the day and night. Another was watching his team…he mentally corrected: Carter's team…go off through the gate without him.
Walter's omniscient omnipresence he was coming to terms with; not being able to watch his team's six…well, he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to completely get used to that one. The incident with Anubis a couple of weeks ago had brought the whole picture quite clearly into focus. He was The Man now, not one of the team. He couldn't confine his vision to protecting the three of them; their welfare had to be no more or less important than the welfare of every man and woman on the base. And if that meant shooting Daniel, or zatting Carter or locking down the whole damn base for a month, then he was going to have to live with that.
Maybe.
In his head he'd started his resignation letter a half dozen times. Dear General Hammond, Wish you were here, and I was not…. So far he hadn't gotten much farther than that. Whether he ever would, he didn't know. Mounting an offense against a fortress of requisition forms didn't exactly inspire him to get out of bed in the morning. But the thought of turning over the SGC to someone who really didn't have a clue as to what was out there wasn't an option either. Too much had been sacrificed over the past seven years to do that to his people. Still, he found himself wondering if the day would ever come when he'd affix his signature to that letter, grab his coat and head out the door without looking back. Something about not knowing the answer to that question bothered him. But then, a lot of things bothered him. Things he really didn't want to think about at that moment.
Not with the jello crisis looming.
"I've tracked the shipment, general. According to the records we should have received three cases of blue raspberry gelatin last week. Apparently there was a mix up and Peterson got two of our three cases. The third is still MIA."
"Good work, Sergeant," nodded Jack approvingly. "Now…."
"I've already contacted Peterson and faxed them the appropriate forms. We'll have our two cases here by 0700 tomorrow."
Spooky. Really.
"Excellent. Well done. Promotion-quality work, Walter."
"Thank you, sir. I'm actually up for review in a few months."
"You'll get my highest recommendation, I promise," replied Jack with a smile. Walter's glance was…indulgent. But then most of Walter's glances were indulgent, Jack decided. He was almost certain the sergeant rolled his eyes every time he walked out of Jack's office.
As he was doing now…except this time he stopped and turned around.
"Sir…if you don't mind my asking…"
"Anything, Walter. Feel free to speak your mind."
A crease furrowed the very high brow of the technician.
"Why was it so important that we track down those boxes of blue jello?"
Jack stared at the man. He had to. If only to stall for time. Because the one answer he couldn't give Sergeant Harriman was the truth. At least not the real truth.
"Balance," he said finally. "It's all about balance, Walter. Too much red jello…too much yellow jello…and, God forbid…too much green jello…it throws the digestion off. And…." Oh boy. He was really struggling here. He swallowed. "It's a sort of…gastronomic…feng-shui…thing…you know…." His voice trailed off. The furrows in Walter's forehead deepened. Good. If nothing else, he'd confused the hell out of the guy.
"Yes, sir," the technician replied in a voice that clearly indicated he didn't buy a word of what Jack was selling. And there was that indulgent look again. Jack didn't care. And really; he didn't have to explain. Not even to himself. It was one of those benefits of that pair of stars. He could do anything he wanted.
Within reason.
And if he wanted to make sure that the commissary always had blue jello on hand—because, maybe it was someone's favorite flavor—then that was totally within his right.
And quite reasonable, as far as he was concerned.
Absolutely reasonable.
Thinking of the jello made him hungry. He'd missed breakfast. Conference calls with the IOA gave him indigestion on the best of days; starting out the morning with Woolsey and his Greek Chorus of pompous international pricks hadn't done much for his appetite. But he was most definitely feeling the lack of food now. Maybe Carter…
No. He dropped the hammer on those thoughts instantly. He couldn't do that any more. Not like he used to. Not like before Shanahan came into the picture. He could sense her discomfort whenever she was around him now. Like a kid who'd just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar. Half the time these days she wouldn't even meet his gaze.
He knew he shouldn't let it bother him. She was getting on with her life, exactly as he hoped she'd do. He'd held her at arms length long enough that she finally must have talked herself out of those feelings they'd had. The ones they couldn't discuss—ever—because when they almost had, he'd nearly let them cloud his judgment, and he never, ever wanted to go through anything like that again. It was too much like Charlie. Too close to that path that took him to dark places in his soul he never wanted to visit again.
Besides, she needed…someone. Someone who wasn't him, So Shanahan was a good thing. And at the right time too. Time for a clean break all the way around. Her moving on. Him moving on. Accepting the promotion had been the right thing to do. Even if it did leave him stuck in an office that was, ironically, visible to all yet as isolated as solitary confinement.
Confinement he just could not take one more moment of. Maybe Daniel was free. With Teal'c on Chulak for a few days, geekboy was his only hope.
Walter nearly plowed into him as he stepped through the door to the hallway. He couldn't help himself. An expletive escaped his lips.
"Damn it, Walter!"
The technician was apologetic.
"Sorry sir…it's just…they're patching through an urgent call from General Hammond."
Jack glared at him, all hope of lunch fading.
"You couldn't have buzzed?"
If Jack's anger bothered the sergeant he didn't let it show. In fact there was a look of what Jack could only describe as paternalistic patience on the guys' face.
"If you recall, general…you sort of…well…broke that feature off the phone the first week…."
Crap. He had. Damned buzzer anyway.
"Right. Yes. Well…fine, then…put him through," said Jack with resignation, heading back to his desk and sitting down. A moment later the phone beeped. With a sigh he picked it up.
OOOO
Even under the best of conditions it irritated him when he saw Carter force herself to sit still when he entered the room. Today it damn well made him mad when he saw her start to bob up, only to catch herself half way through and sit back down. Not like he wasn't already seething. Only not at her. Unfortunately, she was the proverbial straw.
"Damn it, Carter!" he snapped, much more harshly than he'd intended. "Do I have to glue you to that goddam seat?"
Her eyes widened and the color rose to her cheeks. He suddenly felt like crap—he'd never come down on her that hard for anything…even when she'd inadvertently gated them through that sun. Regret didn't exactly help his mood.
"Sorry…sir," she apologized, looking for all the world like a wounded doe. Jack forced himself to look around the room at anything else except her. What he'd give to rewind those last 20 seconds and do that entrance again.
"Just…" he tried to soften his tone. "Just…knock it off, okay? I thought I'd made that an order."
"Yes, sir." Her tone was formal. He saw her posture straighten, even if she wasn't standing. "Is there something I can help you with, General?"
Damn but that word grated on his ears. It was almost as bad as her popping up like a toaster every time he walked in to the room. He never thought he'd miss "Colonel" this much. It was like someone had given him a completely new name. Not to mention that it just sounded so wrong coming out of Carter's mouth.
Which was completely beside the point at the moment, he reminded himself.
"I just got off the phone with Hammond," he told her, trying to not sound as exasperated as he was feeling. She wasn't the source of his problem after all. No point in taking it out on her. "Something's turned up from the CDC that's raising red-flags at the Pentagon." He sighed. "There's concern that it might be alien in origin."
Carter's brow creased. He could see the wheels already turning.
"The CDC? So it's something…biologic? A virus of some kind?"
Jack shrugged. Hammond hadn't been very forthcoming. That alone had sent Jack's blood pressure up a few notches. When George didn't shoot from the hip that meant someone was sitting on his tail, keeping him quiet. And there was only a handful of people who could do that, three-quarters of whom Jack didn't trust as far as he could throw them.
"They're not sure," he told her. "Hell…they don't even know for sure if it's alien. It might be some kind of lovely home-grown concoction. Probably some kind of bio-terrorism. That's what the CDC is speculating, anyway. But it tripped all the right levers at the Pentagon, and Home World Security wants to make sure it didn't come through the gate. And that is why they're sending someone to review the last six months worth of mission reports—to see if there's any chance we may have screwed up royally and brought something really nasty back with us."
Carter seemed lost in thought. Oh yeah. Those wheels were definitely turning.
"Is it possible it was something Anubis released during the dog-fight over Antarctica?"
He'd actually thought of that…which for some reason made him feel a moderate sense of pride.
"Dunno. I guess there's a chance. It could also just as likely be some guy in a hovel with a chemistry set. We don't know enough yet. But…" Here was the clinker. "I've been ordered to suspend all gate travel until they can get a handle on this. All off-world teams are reporting to the Alpha Site until further notice."
He was at least gratified to see his own irkedness and worry reflected in her face. She was a good barometer. He felt vindicated in his concerns.
"You've got to be kidding!" She wasn't so formal now. "What about Teal'c? He's on Chulak...and what about the Atlantis expedition? They're due to depart in three days!"
Jack sighed.
"Yeah…I already contacted T. Told him he could stay put if he wanted to. And I called Weir and put the trip to Pegasus on hold. Until we can prove we're not the source, for all intents and purposes, we're out of business."
Carter was shaking her head.
"It could take months to sort through those mission logs…besides…post-mission medical examines are SOP. Janet…or Dr. Warner, should have picked up on something if it had come through here."
Jack tapped the top of her table distractedly.
"That's what I told them," he agreed. "But they're sending someone anyway. Some epidemiologist. Supposed to be top in her field, I guess. Look…" he sighed. "I know this person is supposed to be working with Warner on this…but half the time Warner doesn't know his stethoscope from his…butt…and no one can hold a candle to you when it comes to this alien crap." He saw her blush slightly. Just like she had when he'd told her once she was a national treasure. "So anyway…I'd like you to work with her too and try to get through this as quickly as possible. With any luck it'll have nothing to do with us and we can get back to normal in a few days."
Carter nodded.
"Yes, sir. Of course."
Jack felt suddenly weary. Maybe it was the lack of food kicking in again. He momentarily reconsidered asking Carter to join him for lunch, but just as quickly dismissed it. She looked busy any way.
Having nothing else to say except to mutter: "Good," he turned to go.
"Sir…" Carter called after him. "If you don't mind my asking…what exactly is it that's got the CDC concerned?"
Hadn't he told her that? Obviously not.
"Miscarriages," he said, quietly. She looked confused.
"Sir?"
"Miscarriages…you know…babies. Apparently the numbers are off the charts, and no one can figure out why.
"You're kidding?" she exclaimed. "I mean…no…obviously you're not kidding…" she stammered. "But…wow. That's incredibly…."
"Yeah. It is," Jack interrupted her. Somehow talking babies and pregnancies with Carter made him vaguely uncomfortable. "Anyway…Hammond's sending the report. I'll give it to you so you can get up to speed. Lunch?"
Damn. Had he actually said that out loud? It had slipped out before he even realized it. And for the second time in almost as many minutes he wished he could take back something he'd said. She was turning red again and suddenly whatever was on her laptop screen seemed quite captivating.
"Thanks…but…."
"Sure…no problem," he cut her off. He wondered if she could sense how relieved he was. She glanced up at him and tried to smile. It never left her lips.
"A rain check, maybe?" she offered. It was a courtesy. Fine. He'd play.
"Yeah—sure…anytime." He threw the response at her even as he was half-way out the door, unusually relieved to be out of her presence. Oh yeah. That had gone so well. As well as the rest of the day, so far. Maybe there was a remote possibility that things would improve after lunch.
Somehow he doubted it.
Trying not to dwell on the devastated look he himself had personally put on Carter's face, Jack headed for Daniel's office, suddenly bereft of any appetite.
OOOO
There were three messages on the answering machine. As Sam scrolled through the caller ID she could see they were all from the same person and she couldn't help the sigh that escaped from deep within. Pete. Pete again. And yes…Pete the third time. He'd called her three times since leaving Colorado Springs that morning. And it was only one o'clock.
She knew she ought to listen to them. Maybe he'd forgotten something. He'd told her he didn't know the next time he'd be able to get away for a weekend…let alone if the weekend would match up with when she'd be off. So if he'd left something behind…. She glanced around quickly and saw nothing obvious. It probably wasn't anything like that at all, knowing Pete. More than likely he had just called to tell her the he'd had a great time, that he missed her already and that some sappy song on the radio made him think of her.
She shook her head slightly and hung the phone back up on the cradle, ignoring the insistent flashing "new message" light. She wasn't up for Pete at the moment. She had a single scant hour before she had to head back to base and really, Pete was the last person she wanted to think about. Not after how her morning had gone.
And it wasn't likely that the rest of her week was going to get any better.
She eyed the bathroom door and considered taking a long hot shower before going back to work. If she was going to have to hand-hold some epidemiologist until she could clear the SGC, she figured she was going to be spending a lot of time in her base quarters. Which meant foregoing the luxury of a lengthy, private shower for a while. She glanced at her watch to see if she had time. Crap. No. She didn't. All she could do was throw a few items in a bag and grab a quick bite to eat. Not that she was all that hungry anyway.
The General's invitation to lunch came back to her. He'd caught her off-guard with it. She'd almost missed it completely…it had only been a beat or two later that she realized he'd tagged it on to the end of his comment. If she hadn't already planned to visit Cassie at school she would have accepted…but he hadn't even let her get her explanation out. In fact, if anything, she thought he seemed relieved that she'd declined. That had never happened before. Lunch was a usual thing for them. Well…it had been a usual thing for them. Before. She just wasn't sure before what. Was it the promotion? No. Although that had certainly compounded the problem. But it wasn't the promotion. In fact she was pretty sure she could pinpoint the exact day and hour their relationship had been altered. And she knew the person who had altered it.
She glanced again at the blinking light on the answering machine. Pete.
Sam sighed and headed for the bedroom; if she was in for an extended stay on-base she'd need to bring a few extra thing. Grabbing her overnight bag she started packing, but her mind wasn't so much on the contents of her dresser drawer as it was replaying the scene in her lab that morning.
She should have seen it coming, now that she thought about it. The tension between them had been building like an over wound e-string. His behavior around her had been becoming more and more distant for months. Oh he pretended there was nothing wrong…kept up his usual repertoire of quips and commentary. But she knew he'd been avoiding her, careful not to spend any time alone with her if he could at all help it. He had a difficult time meeting her eyes, and it seemed to her that every time he spoke to her there was an edge to his voice that she didn't hear when he talked to Daniel or Teal'c. Today had been inevitable. It was merely an extreme example of what had been bubbling below the surface for a long time.
Still…she didn't quite understand what was bothering him. It had been obvious for quite some time now that those feelings for one another that they'd confessed to so long ago hadn't been quite so enduring on his part. She could understand that. Too many things stood in the way. The team. The regulations. The propensity they had for getting themselves into lethal situations and only escaping by the skin of their teeth. Without anything to feed it, the flame had died. At least on his part. She had carried the torch for quite a while longer. At least until her concussed subconscious on the Prometheus had helped her to clarify a few thing.
What she couldn't quite grasp, however, was, if he had let go of her so long ago, as she'd believed, then why was he behaving now as though he hadn't. Unless she was reading this all wrong, of course—which she supposed was entirely possible. Maybe it had nothing to do with Pete at all.
A cold thought slapped her in the face and Sam stopped, mid-step. What if it wasn't personal—what if it was professional?
Could that be it?
She turned this possibility over in her mind.
Maybe he had his doubts about giving SG-1 over to her. Maybe he didn't think she was ready to head up the flagship team of the SGC. Maybe he didn't believe she was capable of taking command. Maybe he didn't think she was ready.
No. That wasn't it. It couldn't be.
She batted the thoughts away and resumed her packing. If that was what he thought he never would have promoted her in the first place. He'd have given SG-1 over to Reynolds or someone else who was already a Full Bird Colonel.
I trust you.
That's what he'd told her on the tel'tak when he'd turned command of the team over to her on the way to Proclarush. She remembered the sound of his voice. He'd been slipping away from them even then. But he'd given her a look—it had bolstered her confidence. What had happened after that had come almost by instinct. Right up until she'd seen him frozen in that stasis chamber. Only then had her certainty begun to waiver.
Later, though, he'd told her how proud he was of her—after he'd pinned those silver leaves on her shoulders. And she knew he'd meant it. His eyes had matched the smile on his face for the first time in a long time.
And then it had been back to business as usual.
Except today had been incredibly unusual in far too many ways. On the Prometheus, her concussed vision of the General had tried to convince her that he wasn't that complex. Well…she begged to differ. Jack O'Neill was one of the most complicated, frustrating individuals she'd ever known. Not that that knowledge really helped matters much at the moment.
Sam finished zipping her bag. The complexity of a certain Air Force general had no bearing on anything now anyway. They had moved on. Both of them. So really—what was the point of dwelling on it.
Sam checked her watch. Time to go. She glanced around and the strangest feeling settled over her. It was almost as if she were leaving for the last time. Silly, she knew. But…odd. She wasn't given to flights of fancy and yet some vague notion that she was saying good-bye continued to linger.
Get a grip, Sam, she told herself, grabbing the bag off the bed. As she passed through the kitchen she plucked an orange from the bowl of fruit on the counter. She still wasn't hungry; she'd save it for later.
As she locked the door behind her and tossed the bag in the back seat of her car she paused and looked again. That feeling was back. Like she was taking a last look. Sam shivered involuntarily and slid behind the wheel, wondering if there was anything about this day she was ever going to like.
OOOO
"Tell me we didn't bring this thing through the gate."
Sam watched the General ease himself into the chair at the head of the briefing table. His knee was bothering him, she could tell. She could always tell. He favored it ever so slightly when he walked, giving him a slight loping gait. And the way he sat down, so he didn't have to bend it too fast…although for all the world she knew he hoped he was giving the impression of a lazy, so-what decent into the chair. It only just then struck her how attuned she was to him, how she could read his every movement, understand what was behind his every gesture, interpret what was behind his every inflection…except, of course, when it came to her.
The shuffling of papers beside her aborted her train of thought. Dr. Stanton was passing her a small stack of papers and she slid the duplicate set across to the General. As he reached for them his hand momentarily brushed across hers. Her reaction to his touch startled her: she felt her breath catch ever so slightly. Glancing at him to see if he'd noticed her reaction he seemed absolutely oblivious; Sam relaxed. Well…as much as she could relax under the circumstances. She was tired and more than a little frustrated after spending six days with Dr. Stanton going over mission reports. Things like her CO's hand briefly resting on hers should have had no effect on her whatsoever. She was sure it was just the fatigue.
"I wish I could, General." Dr. Stanton was answering the General's question. "But I'm afraid I can't. Not when I examine the evidence."
Sam heard the General sigh from deep within. Not his long-suffering, "I'll-put-up-with-this-crap-if-I-have-to" sigh, but his "damn-but-I-knew-this-was-coming" sigh. The kind he usually gave when he heard the telltale sound of a weapon being cocked and aimed in his direction. And in this case he was right. There was a really big gun in place and it was targeted right on the SGC.
"Whadcha find?" he asked wearily. He looked at Sam and so she answered.
"That's the thing, sir. Nothing. Absolutely no evidence that any SG team brought anything back with them through the gate. Every medical check came up clean, going back a year."
"So how is it our fault?"
Sam leaned back and let Dr. Stanton take that one. The epidemiologist picked up the remote and aimed it at the monitor. A map snapped onto the screen.
"When we look at outbreaks of disease, we try to follow the trail of breadcrumbs back to the beginning. This is a map of where the current problems have appeared."
The map of the continental United States became dotted with clusters of red.
"If we back off each area in reverse chronological order, based upon when the miscarriages first started appearing, we get this."
Screen after screen blinked by. In each screen fewer and fewer clusters appeared, like watching ripples in a pond shrink rather than expand. One location remained constant throughout each slide: Colorado Springs.
"As you can see, the earliest and…"she switched images so there was a street map of the Springs on the screen. "Densest outbreak occurred right here. In fact, thirty percent of women in the area who miscarried either knew someone who worked at the SGC or at NORAD, or else worked here themselves. There are at least five instances of wives of SGC personnel who miscarried, including Colonel Dixon's wife."
"Oye," groaned Jack. Sam had felt the same way when the data had been presented to her. She remembered Dave's grief at the loss. He moaned a lot about his kids, but she knew he adored his family.
"Even though we haven't been able to pinpoint the exact cause, I think the evidence speaks for itself, General. Whatever this is, it had to have originated off-world. Your people have brought an alien contagion to earth."
Sam couldn't help but shoot a small glare at Dr. Stanton. The woman had been surprisingly easy to work with. She was smart and quick and hadn't been afraid to roll up her sleeves and get the job done; in a lot of ways she reminded Sam of Janet. But she also was sharp-tongued and really had no finesse when it came to the matters at hand. It made her…prickly.
"Carter? What do you think?" The General seemed to have let the epidemiologist's remark slide off him. She felt a twinge of admiration. In spite of what he himself might think, Sam thought he made a fine base commander. His style wasn't exactly the same as General Hammond's, but it was uniquely his.
"I hate to say, it, sir, but I have to agree. Even though our people came up clean, there's no denying the evidence. It may be circumstantial, but it stands up to the rigors of proof. We've got an outbreak of something, and I'm afraid it came through here."
Upon her confirmation of Dr. Stanton's conclusions, the General seemed to deflate. Sam wished she'd been able to contradict the findings, but the facts were too hard and fast to dispute.
"Okay…so…now what. We've already closed down the gate…though that's rather like shutting the barn door after the horse has left, dontcha think?"
"Unless…or until…we know exactly what we're dealing with here, I can't, in good faith, recommend that you bring your people home, General. If they're infected, they could just spread this further. Or start a whole new outbreak. I'll be making my report during this afternoon's conference call with General Hammond and the Joint Chiefs, but I can't in good conscience recommend resuming normal gate travel until we know exactly what we're dealing with here. I'm afraid the SGC is under an indefinite quarantine."
Sam stared at her. They'd never discussed this.
"Quarantine? Why? The virus, or whatever it is, is already out there! How is putting the SGC in a lockdown going to do any good?"
"As I said, Colonel. Containment. We have no idea as to the virulent nature of this thing. It could be incredibly contagious…it could be very limited. We just don't know. I think the evidence points to the former, considering the spread. And I didn't even put up the map of the rest of the world. It's starting to appear in several other countries. We're going to have a world-wide pandemic on our hands if we're not careful. It has to stop here."
Sam shot the General a look. She wondered if he was going to fight this. Fine…the base lockdown she could understand; not necessarily agree with, but understand. But not being able to bring their people home—she was certain the General would argue that point. Even though the Alpha Site was equipped to support a far greater number of people than were there now, it's conditions were still make-shift at best. They'd only just begun to set up a facility like that had here at Cheyenne. She knew that a RED HORSE squadron was there now, working on the site. Still, it was a long way from being done.
The General, though, had his brows knit together, his eyes studying the paper in front of him. She thought she saw a heave of his shoulders as if he were getting ready to give one of his long-suffering sighs, but then he gave a slight shake of his head.
"Fine. Until we hash this out with Homeworld and the brass at the Pentagon, we'll go into lockdown mode. Carter—contact Pierce at the Alpha Site. Tell him he's got some long term guests."
"Sir?" It came out half question, half disbelief. He cast a similar questioning look in her direction.
"What?"
Sam found herself suddenly stumbling for words. In seven years she'd gotten use to giving her CO her honest opinion on most matters. He'd always welcomed them…okay, mostly welcomed them, even if he didn't agree with them. Somehow, though, seeing him now at the head of the table instead of by her side, as they'd become accustomed to sitting while in this room, made her almost second-guess her desire to speak. And yet, she wouldn't be doing her job if she didn't.
"I think stranding our people at the Alpha Site is, quite frankly, overkill. If contamination has already occurred, then exposure is a moot point. It's better to have them here under quarantine than off-world, in my estimation. There's no added risk in bringing them home as long as they don't leave the base."
She saw his eyes flit from her to the woman sitting next to her, and then back. For a moment she thought she saw…something…in his glance at her. Sympathy? Apology? It was too fleeting to tell, and just as swiftly it was gone.
"For the time being my orders stand. No gate travel. You can make your case this afternoon, Colonel. But until then, we're still closed for business." He pushed his chair back and stood…too quickly, Sam noted. There was a slight wince in his face as the knee must have protested. Then, without looking at her, or even lingering for their usual side- bar conversation, he turned and walked out.
It hit her, then. With no less force than a stun gun. Intellectually, of course, she'd known it. But knowing and knowing were two completely different things. He really didn't belong to her—to SG1, she corrected—any more. He belonged to everyone on the base. And everyone on the base belonged to him. It was as if a great chasm had opened between them. So many things had separated them lately. Maybe Pete was only a part of the problem. Maybe the greatest change had in fact come from this.
A profound sadness came over her. Even when she'd accepted that there was no future for them outside of Cheyenne Mountain, she'd taken comfort in at least being able to work with him, be with him, almost daily, even if it was only as friends…colleagues…team members. Now even that was gone. He'd accepted the promotion and walked away, as he had just done now, and never looked back. That closeness, that—bond—had been shattered. It would never be the same again.
She suddenly felt like she'd just lost her best friend.
Time Incursion #3
Infection Minus Fourteen Days
The room was nearly dark. Not quite blinding-light-in-your-eyes dark, like she'd seen in some of the old movies her dad had once shown her, but then again, not too far removed from that either. She'd noticed the observation window high and in front of her when she'd first walked in. Dark forms were moving in its unlit depths. She would have an audience, of that she was sure. And at this point, it was fine by her. This was the farthest she'd ever gotten; the most credibility she'd ever earned. There was of course the small matter of the two armed guards just outside the door. And the fact that this time around they'd flown some NID guy all the way from Washington to interrogate her. But she also knew whose forms those were hovering behind that glass, and she knew if she could get them to believe her this time, it didn't matter what the suit from DC said; she'd have won the game.
She heard the door before she saw it open. The slight click might have been imperceptible to most human ears, but not her enhanced ones. They hadn't discovered that about her yet, which was good. The more they figured she was just like them, the less reason they'd have to be afraid of her…and by that fear, doubt her story. Because her story was real. And far too terrifying to ignore.
The man was tall. Not bad looking, if you went for that type. Personally it wasn't hers, but she could see how, at the time, some women might have found him attractive. Given his size, he might have been intimidating, but for some reason he wasn't. She felt comfortable with him. He even managed a faint smile as he nodded to her, sitting down. Maybe this time was going to be even easier than she'd thought.
He adjusted the chair slightly and reached across the table to reposition the microphone a little closer to where she sat. She could see the video camera perched on a tripod in the corner of the room zoomed in, she knew, tightly on her face. The Commander had told her to expect this. It was how things were done here. She had to admit it gave her a vague sense of discomfort to be under such intense scrutiny. Still…anything for the mission. There was nothing more important than that. There was no one more important than that. Not even her.
"I'm Agent Barrett of the NID, and if you're ready, we'll begin," said her interrogator. She nodded. Good. Short and to the point. The sooner she got on with this the quicker it would be over.
"For the record, will you please state your name?"
"Jade."
"And your last name….?"
"Jade will do fine."
He studied her for a moment, an odd look on his face ever so briefly.
"Very well. Ms. Jade…."
"Just…Jade, please."
He raised both eyebrows, a little taken back, but nodded slightly before continuing.
"As you wish. Jade…you claim to come from the future…approximately…." He studied notes on a notepad he had withdrawn from a briefcase. "Thirty years in the future, to be exact. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"And you say you've returned to your past…."
"It's not my past," she interrupted him, needing to clarify. "It's earth's past. I won't be born for another two years."
"All right…you say you've returned to earth's past so that you can prevent some cataclysm from happening that will set earth on the path to total annihilation."
"And the human race to near extinction. That's right," she added.
Jade could tell Agent Barrett was used to dealing with the nearly inconceivable. He never batted an eye. She liked the man even more.
"As best as I understand the phenomenon of time travel," Barrett went on. "Isn't what you're claiming to do against the rules, as it were? Don't you risk initiating the Grandfather Paradox by interfering in the past?"
"That's the point. I need to interfere. To stop the future from happening. Even if it means that in that future I don't exist. My mission is that important."
Barrett frowned.
"You talk about your mission. Could you explain that a little more carefully for us?"
"No."
Barrett, who'd been studying his notes, already formulating his next question, snapped his head up and looked at her in surprise.
"No?" he repeated, obviously taken aback.
She shook her head to emphasize the point.
"No. I won't. Not until you let me tell you the whole story. Only when you understand what's at stake here will my mission make any sense to you whatsoever."
"I see," murmured Barrett, jotting down some notes.
"No…I don't think you do," rejoined Jade. Maybe this wasn't going to be as easy as she'd first thought.
"Fine, then. We have two hours of video tape in the camera. By all means, let's hear your story." He sat back, crossing his arms and looked at her. A typical defensive posture if ever she'd seen one. So he was indulging her. Well. Perhaps he would change his tune when she was done. She certainly hoped so. She didn't really want to do this a fourth time.
She could tell in her peripheral vision that the people in the room above were settling in to seats as well. The time had come. She hoped this time she could make a difference.