Chapter 22
Kerry Johnson's residence
Washington D.C.
6 October 1995
"2-Butoxyethanol is a colourless liquid found in most cleaning products as an organic solvent. Exposure to 2-Butoxyethanol will first cause the victim to exhibit severe flu-like symptoms, a condition that degenerates into multiple organ failure, high blood pressure and acute blood disorders within a week. If left untreated, death will follow in two weeks to a month."
Sam watched the pretty woman with glossy auburn locks take a sip of water in her own glass after explaining the human body's reaction to the poison, pondering how Jack's revelation had thrown all of them into a loop so unexpected.
There was so much she needed to discuss with Jack; it was clear that he'd gotten the whole picture as much as she did. Having just determined the cause of Sean O'Neill's death however, made her next step uncertain.
Jack's reaction and thoughts, as always, were closed to her unless he chose to reveal them, and she wasn't entirely sure how exactly he was faring in coming to terms with the shocking news that his grandfather was a victim of 2-Butoxyethanol poisoning.
Especially after having gone through his son's death not too long ago.
She looked at him, unwittingly admiring the hard lines in his face as he sat silent and stared at the floor, his forehead creased in concentration.
Then his face changed, softening slightly as he took in the brunette who was looking at him with sadness and understanding.
Kerry commiserated, "You've told me stories about him, Jack. It felt as though I knew him too."
"I always thought he died from a particularly virulent strain of influenza that had hit the town in the winter of 1965, or at least that was what my father told me," he told both women awkwardly, the thought of revisiting another private moment in his family history making his stomach clench involuntarily.
"Jack-" Sam began "It-"
It was as though he hadn't heard her. "He's buried up north in his cabin in Minnesota," he finished roughly, "and if there's anything to be found, it's there."
Their gazes met and held in that interminable second. Sam was the first to break the contact.
"I think," he said at last, getting to his feet, "that we can't thank you enough, Kerry."
The CIA agent hesitantly stood up. "Where are you going? Do you have a place for the night? I could, you know – "
But Jack was already shaking his head. "I think this should be the extent of our conversation," he told her with finality, "for your own safety. We've had –", he glanced at Sam, "too many close calls, too many people getting hurt because of us."
"So, that's it," Kerry said quietly, but not without a hint of bitterness. "You sweep into my life and leave, before I can even start to figure out what's really going on with you–"
"It's for the best, Kerry," Jack said gently. He was standing near enough for her to remember how he used to smell like – a heady combination of musk, sunshine and pine that had always brought to mind the great outdoors. She took another surreptitious breath, which turned into a tiny gasp when he placed a chaste kiss on her cheek in farewell. "Goodbye."
They turned to go, the blonde lightly touching his shoulder in a show of support.
It was then she knew there was more between them than it looked. Taking a deep breath, she made a decision. "Wait."
He turned back to her, a surprised look on his face.
"You should have these," she said, thrusting at him the file containing all the papers that they had gone through earlier, knowing it was an inadequate compensatory act for what she did to him years ago. "I've a feeling you will need it more than me in the coming days. I have copies, anyway."
For a moment Jack didn't move. Then he reached out and took it from her, as though he recognised her gesture for what it was.
A rare smile twisted his lips. "Thanks."
She watched them leave her apartment, then picked up the phone in the living room. Glancing at the clock, she hoped to God that he was still awake to take her call.
It was a relief to hear his Texan twang that always seemed to be more pronounced when he was tired.
"Hammond."
"Thank god you're awake, General," she told him. "They've just been around and there're some things you should know."
They had left Kerry's apartment hurriedly, running through the steadily-falling rain down the street, sheltered under his jacket that he held over both their heads.
And they'd barely gotten into the car when Jack palmed the steering wheel hard and cursed, "Son of a bitch. Those bastards."
His controlled anger amazed her. That tightly coiled spring of tension stayed as it was, held in place by a strong, inner grip of restraint.
"Do you remember much of your grandfather?" She responded quietly, taking his hand in hers.
Jack looked down at their joined hands and tightened his grip around hers. "We did lots of stuff together. He used to take me fishing in a cabin up in Northern Minnesota from time to time," he said a little unsteadily, and looked up, finding her eyes, "And he was the deciding factor in me wanting to become a pilot. I never knew what he did in the military, never asked, only knew that he liked to fly."
"When did you last see him?"
He shook his head. "Don't remember. Only that my dad came in one day saying that he'd died."
"Do you –," she swallowed than began again uncertainly, "do you really think that he might have left something behind? Any proof of implicating evidence of the Aegis before he died?
He turned to her, considering her words. "Maybe. No one in my family ever mentioned anything about it. But if he did, there would only be one place where it would be kept."
"The cabin in Minnesota?"
"The cabin was his sanctuary. That much I know. And I can't think of any place better. But I haven't been there since he died and my grandmother abandoned the place a decade after his death."
"Think it'll be there still?"
"I hope so. But only god knows the state it's in now."
But Sam had stopped listening, unable to shake off the feeling that there was someone else nearby.
So caught up were they in his personal reminiscence that they hadn't noticed the shadows creeping up on them. Before she could say anything to him, the car door had been flung open and she was dragged out onto the wet concrete.
The rain dimmed the brightness of the city lights, allowing her only to see a blurred movement behind her reflected in the car window. Her combat instincts kicked in and she twisted herself upright, bucking her assailant into the sharp edge of the car door.
Sam lunged at him before he could recover, using the force of her body to hem him in. His strength was however, superior, and a hard palm to her face made her stumble again to the slippery ground.
Pain exploded in her face and her side, leaving her suddenly breathless and light-headed.
Behind her, she heard the muted sounds of another scuffle taking place.
Jack!
But before she could cry out, a hand had clamped hard over her mouth, flipping her face forward. She felt her hands being tied together tightly, then she was forcibly hauled upright, seeing Jack overpowered by three men dressed in black, their faces shielded by masks.
There were as always, the same two options, the most basic of human primal instincts.
Fight or flight.
Weakened from exertion and the blow to her face, she probably wouldn't be able to hold up on her own for long. Running meant risking exposure to gunshots and bullets, all of which would be easily muffled in the harsh sounds of the rain that pummelled the concrete ground.
Even the fight, as short as it had been, was suddenly over for her.
She was shoved into a waiting SUV with tinted windows after being thoroughly frisked, realising that Jack was already seated in there, his hands bound like hers were. A quick glance at him told her that he'd scraped his face and arms on the hard ground during his own struggle.
Then she saw him shake his head minutely.
Not a word.
She understood.
The SUV squealed off the curb, accelerating past the suburban row of houses, then swung onto a parallel road that bordered the motorway for some distance.
Lined on both sides by high dividers, the vehicle sped down the single lane.
Her mind raced with the possibilities of escape and drew a blank. Any attempt to overpower their attackers would only cause the car to swerve on the slick road and slam into solid concrete walls.
The impact would shatter bones.
Without warning, the high-beam lights of a fast-moving, tailgating car shone straight through the SUV's rearview mirror, temporarily creating a blinding effect for all its occupants.
The SUV steered off course just as its back window shattered into a million pieces.
The impact of an exploding flash-grenade thrown through the hole in the back tossed the vehicle up into the air as though an invisible hand had flung it upwards.
The first explosion had made Jack dive instinctively as low as they could. He tried to brace himself, crouching in a position that would minimally impact his joints and spine, hoping that Carter had followed his cue.
A second later, the car fell back to the ground roof first, the impact of its crash flattening the top completely, sending a spray of mangled metal and glass across the road surface.
The screech of a braking vehicle resounded through the single carriageway from a distance.
Approaching footsteps and a few shots from a muffled gun reached his ears.
Disoriented from the effects of the stun grenade, all Jack could do was blink to clear his head, his sight still hampered by the dark spots that swam across his eyes. He tried to take in his surroundings, feeling a quick burst of panic running through him as the shapes and the outlines of everything looked wrong. Then he realised he was held tight in an awkward position, seated the wrong way up as the seatbelt dug into his neck, pinned by half of Sam's body weight on him. Thinking that he had lost a vital few seconds in negotiating their escape, he turned to her, realising that she wasn't doing very much better.
But at least she wasn't unconscious, and was struggling to get free of her seatbelt. The crash had turned her partially atop one of the dead men, the heavy weight of his body trapping her left leg and arm.
"You OK?" He murmured gruffly.
She groaned in agony as she shifted her free arm and leg experimentally. "Apart for having whiplash, scrapes and bruises, yeah, still breathing."
Their captors were dead from the gunshots, but whoever it was who had shot them hadn't done much else. Sam abandoned the faint hope that they would have an easier time getting themselves free, especially if the violent lurch of the SUV during the explosion had punctured the fuel tank.
"C'mon, Carter. You can do it."
It earned him a glare as she worked, and despite their dire situation, he was more than happy that she was by his side, getting his sorry six out of the mess.
Struggling out of their entangled belts, she finally managed to get Jack free after she moved her weight off him. As much as he could in the confined space, he gave her a slight boost out of the rear window then followed her out as invisible hands seemed to tilt the overturned vehicle one way so they could clamber out the other side more easily.
"Colonel O'Neill? Captain Carter?" A gravelly voice pierced her consciousness.
They turned quickly to face two men dressed in civilian clothing.
It wasn't lost on her that they had used both their military ranks. It was an unpleasant reminder of how much her world had changed since her ordered, daily routine in the labs. How it now seemed like a lifetime away.
"I assume this is your doing?" Jack raised his eyebrows and pointed at the carnage around them. "Not that I'm ungrateful, gentlemen, but–"
"It's General Hammond's request that you come with us," one of them said, gesturing to their own vehicle parked by the side of the road.
"Never heard of him," Jack put in.
"I promise nothing will happen to you. In fact, we've even retrieved all your things from your car that is still parked near Agent Johnson's apartment complex."
"Why?" Sam asked without preamble, grimacing as she examined the scrapes on her arm. "And," she looked around her as realisation dawned on her, "is Agent Johnson safe? The men who took us would have wanted her too."
He didn't answer her question. "The General is someone Agent Johnson thinks you should meet."
Had they read Kerry Johnson wrongly? Had they, in fact, fallen into a trap she'd set up?
Yet the way that these men had taken care of their captors seemed to suggest otherwise. Caution made her take half a step back unconsciously as she took in her surroundings in preparation to run.
They must have seen her nervousness and confusion emerge. "Sir, Ma'am, I can assure you that Agent Johnson is safe, and that you are both safe with us. General Hammond guarantees it."
She turned to Jack to see a cautious look appear on his face, which soon turned to reluctant acceptance as the second man handed them back their weapons.
Relief – blessed relief coursed through her.
Jack nodded back once at her when she had holstered her own gun.
"Alright, take us there."
Washington D.C.
7 October 1995
They were escorted to a relatively wealthy-looking suburban home, and ushered into what looked like a family room beautifully decorated with differentiated shades of colours, materials and textures.
The man who emerged from the back room was portly and bald with piercing blue eyes and wore an experienced air of command that draped like a heavy coat on his shoulders.
He gestured to a grey couch behind them. "Colonel, Captain, please, take a seat. I promise you're safe for the moment. Can I offer you anything?"
They settled down uneasily, sitting such that their hips were touching.
"No thanks, Sir. And…actually, it's just Samantha, or Sam if you like, and Jack. But you probably already know we're so far gone beyond the regulations that the ranks don't quite matter at all," Jack said.
The man snorted in part-resignation and part-appreciation at his audacity, then continued, "My name is George Hammond. Officially, I'm the deputy commander of 6th Special Operations Wing in Eglin Air Force Base, Florida. Not that that's of any concern to you. What I do unofficially however, does. Earlier this evening, I received a call from Agent Kerry Johnson who told me that she had just met you, along with the details of a particular conversation you had with her."
He waited for the information to sink in and for the questions to start. The young blond Captain didn't disappoint him.
"So you're indeed the high-ranking officer whom she's been talking about. The one who was managing this investigation all along. From the very beginning of her career," she said in dawning comprehension.
"Agent Johnson has been working on uncovering the Aegis for me," Hammond replied. "But it's the Colonel whom I've been following closely since this all began, something Ms Johnson doesn't know I've been doing.
Jack didn't flinch at that particular revelation, but then again, Sam thought, very little seemed to faze him.
Hammond turned to her, assessing her with a sharp gaze. "You, Captain, were the wildcard. The surprise twist in the story."
"Me, Sir?" She asked warily, still uncertain where the General was heading.
"You're good at this disappearing act, both of you. There were times when you completely fell off my radar. But when I heard that you had turned to Ms Johnson, I knew it was time that we met."
"Please enlighten us, Sir." There was sardonic anticipation in Jack's voice.
Hammond sighed. "What I'm going to say is off the record, Colonel O'Neill. I've read your file, Jack, about your maverick and sometimes-insubordinate tendencies and your incredible field and flying abilities. But I also know why you ran. I know why you countermanded your orders and took Captain Carter with you, despite knowing what you had committed a grave offence that would doubtlessly get you court-martialled in ordinary circumstances. And I think that you've also realised that there are larger things at stake here, Colonel. Which was why we didn't think you should be left in the lurch when the Aegis's henchmen ran you down."
"We?"
"Sir –"
Hammond held his hand up. "I'm not your commanding officer, so call me George. In fact, you're in my vacation home, so that makes the both of you my guests. And I'd prefer for it to stay that way. In fact, I'd offer you a place to stay tonight, but something tells me that you're both eager to go off on your own to do some recon."
Stoic faces met his statement, then turned silently to regard each other wordlessly.
"I still don't think I got that part down yet. Why are we here?" Sam asked slowly, unable to understand what exactly Hammond wanted from them.
"The long and short of it, Captain," Hammond said, "is that Ms. Johnson's not privy to everything that I know and what she has told you is merely part of the set-up. The fact is, the President is well aware of the alleged existence of the Aegis and has commissioned a group dedicated to exposing their activities. And the more information that we could gather, the better."
"So it's information that you're looking for?" She asked in disbelief, knowing she was treading the thin boundary between insubordination and polite expression of confusion. "You're mistaken if you think that…with due respect Sir, it was Agent Johnson who furnished us with all the details, but you also know that already."
"So what can we give you that you don't already have?" Jack asked shrewdly.
Hammond heaved a sigh of impatience. "What do you think, Jack?"
"Sir?" That term of address wasn't lost on Hammond.
He had to hand it to O'Neill. It was less out of habit than it was of strategic positioning that the Colonel had deliberately kept the ranks, maintaining the formal boundaries of superior officer and subordinate until he proved he had something to offer them.
Hammond walked to a window and stared out to the rain that had lightened into a drizzle. He knew that nothing but the full truth would suffice and he just wasn't looking forward to the long conversation and the slew of revelations that would follow.
"Might I remind you, Colonel, that everything here is on a need-to-know basis and that you've been told more than you were supposed to?"
"You wouldn't have gotten us here if you already didn't see the need for us to know, George," Jack replied steadily.
With a frown, Sam turned to him, then to Hammond. "General? Why don't you start from the beginning?"
Hammond turned away from the window slowly, and Jack thought he caught a glint of irritation in his eyes before it disappeared as quickly as it came. "You already know that the Aegis was formed out of the original Majestic-12 with the sole purpose of protecting the Earth from alien threats. The Roswell incident on American soil proved it. And if it happened once, it can happen again. If you haven't already connected the dots, the alien device under Cheyenne Mountain was only until recently, a latent threat. It wasn't until the USAF decided to take it out of a military storage warehouse and begin serious research that it was considered again by the Aegis as an utmost danger to Earth. That's where you, Captain," he looked at her steadily, "come into the picture."
"I think I get that part," Sam spoke in turn. "My job was to figure out how the ring technology worked," she endeavoured to explain, "then things started happening."
It was suddenly as clear as the distinction between night and day. The paranoid fear of the Aegis had merely resulted in a list of unimaginable, innocent deaths, and would have resulted in hers and god knew how much more had Jack not turned on his orders.
"The grey ring, in short, was acknowledged to be another source of danger, apart from the threat of the Roswell aliens. It was another gap to plug in their security network," he said, "but that isn't all. My own intelligence reports claim that they are convinced that Earth is somehow going to be subjected to –," Hammond grimaced at the preposterous-sounding statement that he was going to make and said, "to an even bigger incident than the Roswell crash. Something akin to a hostile invasion. All of which have been hinted at given the widespread solar storms in the past few weeks."
"Just as McKay predicted," she muttered in reply, eliciting a slight upturn of Jack's lips.
Hammond ignored her quip and continued, "Having you eliminated, Captain, was to prevent the activation of the ring portal in case it opened the door to something out there which is more lethal, more destructive than a nuclear warhead, be it a renewed attack from the Roswell beings or not. Not knowing those beings' purposes for coming is in fact, exactly the problem. For the Aegis, the safest, but perhaps not the wisest method to prevent such an occurrence from happening is to make sure that Earth's atmospheric and stellar boundaries are tightly controlled."
The Captain was already shaking her head. "You can't control Earth's atmospheric boundaries the same way immigration controls the flow of human traffic," she pointed out then added as an afterthought, "that's short of impossible unless there's some planetary shield that can encase the whole Earth. That sort of technology exists only in science fiction."
"Exactly, Captain. As far as the Aegis is concerned, the recent spate of power outages caused by an apparent appearance of solar flares is merely symptomatic of a coming catastrophic event, simply proving Earth's vulnerability to threats coming from whatever it is out there," Hammond replied. "Finding out the actual cause of these severe outages has been the recent prerogative of the Aegis's Research and Development team as far as my sources tell me. And until then, everything else is conjecture."
It didn't quite make sense in Jack's book. At least, not yet.
His initial uncertainty turned into scepticism and suspicion. There was something else that Hammond wasn't yet saying, an aspect of their belief in a pending alien invasion that hadn't fit their consistently offensive modus operandi that he'd witnessed first hand.
"General, let's just assume they've got it right about doomsday. So their solution is to just keep the Stargate a secret and bury their asses in the sand?"
"There's another part to the story, Jack," Hammond replied in grudging admiration of the Colonel's offhand but astute questioning. "I have several investigative reports of the Aegis's key members suggesting their involvement in certain clandestine activities. For years, we have been searching for sufficient evidence to link some of them to the illegal import of nuclear arms and technology from the Caucasus and the Middle East in exchange for the designs of some of the US military's defence systems. If you haven't known by now, a river of dirty money runs through the underbelly of the Pentagon."
"So the illegal weapons stockpile is, presumably, their answer to a potential invasion," Jack murmured. "Nice to see their concern for the whole Earth when things screw up."
God, it was worse than he'd thought.
Hammond was quick to answer. "If it comes to that, we're looking at an extinction-level event. The world cannot handle another war fought with nuclear weapons. I know that full well, Colonel, which is why I think we might need to do something about it."
There was no mistaking that pronoun. "We?"
"You heard that right. But not in any official capacity. "
Jack didn't move a muscle. "Sir?
"We're biding our time, Colonel, and I think that the both of you would be a great help to me."
Jack's curiosity won out. "What are you asking?"
Hammond gave them a meaningful look. "Agent Johnson told me that you had discovered that your grandfather was an early casualty of this organisation. Perhaps you would like to see if that trail leads anywhere significant."
The Colonel smiled humourlessly. "Yes, Sir, we were already intending to do that."
"Go to Minnesota, Jack," Hammond said evenly, "I hope you find what you're looking for. And," he hesitated for a millisecond, "you have my word that you'll have everything you need for your journey there."
"Everything?" Sam repeated guardedly, drawing his piercing blue gaze to her own questioning ones.
"Everything," Hammond echoed and looked straight at the both of them, "And in return, we'll keep an eye out for you. Report whatever findings you have in a week."