oOo Chapter Two
"You asked to see me, sir?"
Hammond could see the hope on Major Carter's face, but he had not summoned her to give her what she wanted, which was to be sent through the gate to go after Colonel O'Neill. Her arm was not fully healed yet, and she knew that meant she couldn't go off-world. Someone had to, though. Incidents were springing up all over the base as people argued over Colonel O'Neill. Some called him a traitor for setting the enemy on an SGC team. Others said he was a victim of alien brainwashing. Still others were in-between the two extremes. Fewer and fewer were reserving opinion until more facts were obtained. He decided to dispense with her main concern first, then move on to his reason for calling her.
"Colonel Morgan will be taking her team to PR5-SL9 at the next opportunity." Morgan was experienced, cool and calm under pressure. Her priority was actually to find out why O'Neill had prevented his own rescue, so the facts could be used to determine whether he now presented a threat to Earth. Any answer would also ease the pressure building on the base. Given the results of the last mission, she was to use her own judgment about attempting to extract O'Neill. Hammond wouldn't tell Carter, or anyone but Morgan, that.
"Yes, sir." Her reaction seemed mixed; glad someone was going, but still wishing it was her and the remaining members of SG-1.
"I have an assignment for you. The diplomatic team has been working with the government of PS3-994. The Antonans are willing to trade technology, provided we can reciprocate with something they find valuable. So far, the technology offered by the diplomatic team has not been of interest. An Antonan delegation will be arriving later today. It's their first visit, so there will be some welcoming formalities in the gate room. Then I want you to show them some technology classified as sharable and try to find something they will trade for. Here is a list of what they have rejected." He handed her a sheaf of notes. It's thickness was evidence of how many options the diplomatic team had already tried.
"Yes, sir." She turned to go.
"Major."
She turned back.
"We'll get him out of there."
oOo
Jack stood in the training room, trying not to look -- or feel -- worried as he waited for Keyna. Mayree in training were watched closely, so it was likely someone was looking now, and maybe noting his reaction to the intriguing objects set up in the room today.
Strips of metal heated over a cheery fire in a wide, low stone pot. Coils of leather, an inch wide and a yard or so long, lay next to it, as did a pair of pincers. A taller, narrower pot hid its contents under a rough-hewn lid. The final object was a small basket, heaped with something currently covered by a stained cloth.
What would Keyna make him do today? Or do to him? Hot metal and leather straps had scary possibilities. Were they better or worse than what was under the lid or the cloth?
"Mayra!"
Jack jumped at the sound. He had not heard Keyna enter, and wondered if he'd been there long. He looked at Keyna's chest, demonstrating he was paying attention without making the forbidden eye contact, but did not speak since he had not been asked a question. Keyna sauntered across the room to the objects in the center. He made a show of picking up the pincers and turned.
Jack stiffened, steeling himself to accept whatever happened; it would still be better than being punished. He watched Keyna's hands rise ominously, expecting him to use the pincers to pick up one of the metal strips, and surprised when he just dropped them into his own pocket.
He soon found out that the 'reprieve' from the pincers was no such thing. His task was to take a small stone from the basket, clean it with the cloth, and then drop it on the appropriate strip of hot metal. In about 30 seconds, he was to turn it, and in 30 more, remove the now-glowing stone from the searing plate, and set it in an indent on the leather strap to cool. Without the pincers, he burned his fingertips on each stone, and that made it hard to follow Keyna's rapid instructions.
"Blue stone, red stone, green stone…"
The orders for stones came faster and faster, and he struggled to keep track of what was next and when each one would be ready to flip or remove. It was only a matter of time before he made a mistake, taking a blue stone off the fire too soon. It sat on the leather, its dull slate color drab next to the sparkling hues of its mates.
"There will be punishment, Mayra." He waved, and one of the enforcers stepped out of the room to prepare.
Jack was so upset he almost forgot about the remaining stones. He caught a red one a little too late, but it sparkled, even if its deep wine color was darker than its ruby colored companions. The others he rescued in time, lining them up on the leather.
Keyna beckoned him, and Jack responded, moving to kneel just in front of him. "What did you do to deserve punishment, Mayra?"
*Nothing, you bastard,* is what he wanted to say. Aloud, he responded thoroughly, trying to cover as many bases as possible. "I did not do as you ordered, Keyna. And I caused the stone not to sparkle. I was not fast enough, or careful enough."
"Very good, Mayra. You must do everything you are told, exactly as you are told."
"Yes, Keyna."
Outside, he could hear the sounds of the enforcer returning. Keyna heard, too, looking toward the door. Jack felt a twist of dread; Keyna was really going to do it.
"Keyna, please…." his voice sounded piteous even to his own ears. Keyna raised eyebrows at him in surprise. Maybe it would help to beg. Oh, please, please, let it help! "… don't do that punishment. Something else. Anything else."
"There will be punishment, Mayra."
*No! Please, no!* He screamed it in his head, half-falling forward in horror. He curled the rest of the way, pressing his face against his knees to keep from howling aloud. Keyna was going to do it twice now. Twice. He couldn't stand it. He couldn't.
The first enforcer was entering the room, huge hands easily able to carry what he'd returned with.
"What did you do to make this happen, Mayra?"
Always the question was phrased to remind him of his guilt. Jack took a shuddering breath, raising his head just enough to be heard. At least the reason was obvious this time. "I spoke without being spoken to, Keyna. And without your leave to speak on my own." He straightened his back before he finished, and turned his head toward Keyna, suddenly afraid there might be a rule about speaking while not showing attention.
"Very good, Mayra," he confirmed. He waved, and the enforcers passed one another as the first returned to begin the initial punishment and the second left to prepare for the next. "Your words are very important to you, aren't they? You choose to talk even though it means there will be a correction."
The comment hadn't included the word 'Mayra,' so Jack didn't dare respond. He seethed at how it must sound to the young Mayra who had accompanied the first enforcer's return. Keyna's disappointed look confirmed that it had been an attempt at tricking him into a third punishment.
oOo
Major Carter sat down on her chair and picked up the phone with her good left hand. Hammond would be surprised to hear from her so soon. She glanced over at the pair of Antonans chortling with delight over their find.
"General Hammond."
"General, this is Major Carter. We've found some technology they want to trade for." She watched as one Antonan shrieked as the other tricked him with the device. Always try the simple solutions first, as her old science teacher used to say.
"Already? That's good news. Will it be difficult or expensive to gather or make sufficient quantities?"
"No, sir. A trip to the local hardware store ought to do it."
"Hardware store?" The amazement was evident in his voice. "What exactly is the technology you've promised them?"
She smiled then. He hadn't asked for the details right away, so he'd expected it to be something complicated to explain. "Hinges, sir." The Antonans had never even made it all the way into the room; they'd all but collapsed with laughter on the threshold. "The Antonans use their retractable plastic for doors and lids. They've never seen a hinge, and certainly not on a door. They're very amused." They'd spent the past twenty minutes swinging it back and forth, giggling as it moved, watching it go fast or slow depending on how hard they pushed. Once, they'd slammed it by mistake, erupting into near hysterics after a moment of stunned silence.
"I'll contact the diplomatic team immediately. We should complete the agreement before the novelty wears off."
oOo
"Enough." All the Mayree responded to his one-word command. The enforcers executing the correction stopped instantly, of course. The pair of servants standing at the wall sagged against it in relief that the spectacle had ended. The Mayree-in-training sighed, a shivery half-sob of a sound, but he did not move from his assigned position.
Keyna waved, and the servants came forward to clear up. He did nothing else, allowing all eyes to focus on them so the correction would sink in all the more. It was one of the most fearsome disciplines he'd ever devised, and he wanted the full impact of each to minimize the total number required. It was working; while the Mayra's body was still, his muscles all bulged, giving away that he was incredibly tense rather than relaxed. His breathing was shallow, and Keyna could hear its shakiness even from where he sat. It would not take many more corrections before this one broke.
One of the servants carried a bloody bundle out of the room while the other returned to his post by the wall.
"Mayra, sear a blue stone. Then a red stone, red stone, green stone…" He deliberately did not preface the new command with any lecture, or allow a rest period. A Mayra must be ready to serve at all times.
The Mayra's speed as he leapt to obey would have been comical had the mood in the room been any different.
"Red stone, green stone, green stone, red stone, blue stone…"
Two strips of leather were filled with stones now, and a third was begun.
"…green stone, blue stone, yellow stone -- throw that one into the fire."
The Mayra quickly tossed it toward the flames.
"…when I tell you to."
The Mayra gasped, lunging for the stone, catching it barely in time and nearly knocking one of the metal strips as he did. He looked up at Keyna's chest with trepidation, waiting for judgment.
Keyna nodded shortly at him. "Red stone, red stone…" This minor success, coming after back-to-back corrections, would encourage the Mayra that total submission led to relief.
The Mayra sighed with relief and then jumped as he realized two of his stones were nearly overdone. He grabbed them quickly, and Keyna watched as closely as he to see if they would sparkle. They did, though not so brightly as their mates.
"Blue stone, green stone…" Keyna saw the Mayra's eyes flick to him in gratitude. Another good sign.
oOo
General Hammond sighed, closing the latest report and filing it away in his drawer. The incidents were becoming more frequent, not less, as the base polarized over whether Colonel O'Neill was captive or criminal. Only one physical altercation so far, but if Colonel Morgan didn't return soon, he was sure there would be more.
The phone rang, and he closed his eyes and took a deep breath before answering. The last call had been from the infirmary. Apparently, someone had supported their belief that O'Neill had turned with the fact that Teal'c himself had once changed loyalties. Hearing that, Hammond had had a moment of fear that the big man had killed the speaker. He'd almost laughed aloud when he heard the rest of the story. Teal'c had carried the man to the infirmary, plopped him unceremoniously into a bed, and pinned him there as he calmly informed the staff that their new patient had been asking to be injured and would be safer kept away from those who might oblige. Hammond had heard the speaker's vain struggling in the background as the doctor asked for advice.
He doubted all his calls would be so entertaining, and he was right. At least this one wasn't about O'Neill. There had been some sort of incident with the Antonans. He hurried off to Major Carter's lab. The door was open, and he could hear raised voices even before he arrived.
"You will give it to us or you will not get the retractable plastic!"
Hammond was glad to know the stakes before he went in, but angry that it should come to this. The Antonans should not have seen any technology that couldn't be shared.
"Arcule, I already told you, I can't. I don't know how."
Hammond hid his frown as he entered. What could they have seen?
"Ah, here is General Hammond! He will order you to produce it!" Arcule's voice was triumphant.
"I can't!" The fact that she snapped back at Arcule instead of acknowledging Hammond demonstrated her frustration.
"May I ask what it is you want, Arcule?" Hammond kept his voice neutral.
"No."
"Excuse me?" It made no sense for Arcule to insist on seeing him and then not explain.
"He means 'snow,' sir," Carter explained with a sigh.
"Snow?" He must still be hearing things wrong.
"Yes!" Arcule folded his arms. "You will make it snow on Antona or we shall not trade with you."
Make it snow on a desert planet. It made dealing with the fights between his staff sound fun.
oOo
Jack made it through the rest of the day without further punishment. He was thrilled when they headed him toward the Mayree enclosure for the night. Now that he did not have to focus intently on Keyna, he knew memories of the day's events would replay themselves in his mind. It would be miserable, but bad memories were still far better than being constantly at risk of causing a real repeat.
They turned him loose into the high-walled yard that served as 'home' to the Mayree at night. He headed for the corner he had staked out, pausing when he realized that a child was lying on the ground, whimpering from injuries, as his mother crooned over him. Nearby, another was also being tended by her weeping parents. Keyna was so cruel as to heal adult Mayree but not children?
Two adult male Mayree approached him. They were bare-chested despite the chill night air. Jack realized that all the other men were, and that their shirts must be the makeshift blankets warming the wounded children. One of the pair demanded the top of Jack's black Mayree uniform, and he slipped it off, happy to offer some bit of help. Mayree clothing was thin, and the night was getting cold already.
The men frowned at him, and a third joined the pair. "I told you! Look at him! Not a single mark!"
Jack's eyes flicked to the other men's bodies. It was easy since they were all gathering around him now, and not in a friendly sort of way. Every one sported cuts, bruises, minor burns, or other indications that they had fought back against Keyna and his evil training methods. Why was he the only one Keyna used the healing ointment on?
One of them spat some word, calling him a name in their language, no doubt.
Jack tried to explain, to tell them what Keyna had done, but they were not in the mood to listen to anything he said. The name-caller advanced, and the others moved with him. Jack faced the mob, wondering briefly if it might be a more merciful end to let them beat him to death than to continue under Keyna's tutelage. Even if he was ready to die, it probably wouldn't work; Keyna's watchers wouldn't stop a squabble among Mayree but they would step in eventually to save their master's property from total destruction. His best bet would be to take out the first one dramatically enough to warn off the others.
The name-caller struck at him, a nice clean right cross. Jack grabbed the fist and moved with it, adding his own force to speed them both through one full turn. If the others jumped him before he made it around, he'd have no chance. Luck or surprise was on his side, and he was able to force the man to his knees in front of the others. His left hand held his opponent's right high up behind his back, while his right braced the man's neck to prevent escape or even choke if he chose. Jack yanked up on the wrist, and name-caller cried out. "I can break his arm," Jack warned.
They stood, watching him and muttering among themselves.
He didn't want to fight for prison-yard supremacy. Being one of the guys was obviously out of the question. He'd have to take the part of the strange guy everyone stayed clear of. "Just leave me alone, ok?" He punctuated the request with some groan-inducing pressure on name-caller's arm. His captive jerked in a vain attempt to escape; Jack clenched his right hand to stop him, drawing blood with his ragged fingernails.
They muttered more among themselves, so he elicited another moan from the name-caller. They grudgingly backed away a few steps.
Jack released the name-caller, pushing him toward the others.
They exchanged distrustful warning looks as the man rose and walked to the others. When he joined them, the group backed away a little more.
Jack took the opportunity to move warily toward his corner. He slid down and sat, knees raised in front of him, arms crossed against the cool air. At least he had a wall on two sides to block the wind and maybe reflect some body heat. The others migrated back to the other corner, furthest from the entryway, and grouped together for warmth, the children in the center.
oOo
Colonel Morgan settled into the shrubbery for the day's watch on this side of the compound. Major Evans was a quarter of the perimeter away from her. Between them they could watch half the compound. The other half was made up of window-less, door-less walls too high to see over. They'd had their first sighting of Colonel O'Neill this morning, trooping along with a large group of black-dressed men under armed guard out one door and into another.
She was sure already that he was not a traitor. No one would voluntarily be treated the way she'd seen others in the black uniforms handled. She didn't think he'd been brainwashed, either. Surely if you could control someone's mind, you'd make them behave without the harsh disciplines they'd been witnessing. So why did he stop his own rescue? They were doing something to keep him here, obviously. If they were, or would, also do something to elicit information dangerous to Earth, he could still be classified as a risk.
They would keep watching until they knew. She and Evans here, Finney and Archer over the city common area. Finney and Archer were watching the people, the way they interacted, the locations of critical buildings in the city. If Hammond ever agreed to military action, they would know exactly what to target. They had pages and pages of notes on how the society interacted, intended to help if diplomacy or insurrection were attempted. Morgan was beginning to doubt either would really be possible; there seemed to be unusual behavior around every little action. You didn't just walk up to another person and talk; you exchanged a complicated handshake that would make a college fraternity proud. People responded in a variety of ways when passing another on the street; ignoring them, nodding, bowing, kneeling, or stepping out of the way apparently based on some status indicator that they hadn't quite figured out yet. All in all, she'd much rather let her P-90 do the talking and take the Colonel home.
oOo
Keyna sat on his raised chair and surveyed his trainees. Their ranks were swelling; the magic circle was lighting up often now, and battles were almost continuous as they fought to stop their enemy from using it. The Forever Feud must not end with the other side mastering magic.
He could no longer train each of his Mayree personally. He had gone back to the traditional way; a personal consultation with each at the beginning and end of each day, sending most off under the supervision of enforcers in between. The most interesting or amusing ones he'd still handle himself. He'd dispensed with the women and children already this morning. The men had been filthy; they'd removed their shirts to protect their young, and last night's wind had coated them with fine black silt. It was sensible to build compounds like this on unpleasant land no one wanted to live or farm on, but it was annoying at times like this. He'd sent the males off to bathe and dress in clean clothes, but it put him behind schedule. He should be done with assignments by now, and working with those he chose, but he still had a handful remaining before him.
He beckoned the next one forward, and the Mayra dutifully advanced and knelt. This one had bruises on his neck that were not there when Keyna saw him last night. He knew why, of course; though he tried to hide it from them, the Mayree pen was closely watched to monitor whether they were really changing or just behaving in front of their master. Plus, as for his stone-searing Mayra, it sometimes revealed weaknesses that could be exploited to further training.
"Where did you get those marks, Mayra?" Keyna asked the Mayra. This one's name had been Rilla when he was free. While in training, he, like all the newly taken, was simply 'Mayra'. Later, he would become Rillamo, the suffix forever marking him as Mayree. With their increased numbers, Keyna had to start thinking of them by names to keep them straight.
The man flushed, but answered. "I made advances to someone, Keyna."
Keyna laughed, at the lie as well as the fool thinking he could get away with it. "And who was it who spurned you so cruelly, Mayra?" Mayree figured out pretty quickly that they were made to repeat things they disliked. Would he identify another who would happily cooperate, thinking to be given a training task that was actually a pleasure?
"Him, Keyna" the man pointed to the Mayra who was his most challenging. The one who had even refused to give a real name on his first day. He'd been exceptionally defiant, claiming names that did not even end with "a," like "Oneel" and "Jack." Keyna learned later that the battlefield cleaners, who had groups to retrieve, to strip, to clean, to heal, and to document prisoners, had done their worst to pull a name from him and even severe pain only elicited an agonized mantra that added a made up suffix to what must be his true name, "Jonathononeel, Jonathononeel, Jonathononeel." Keyna was sure that if he were to ask today, Jona would call himself Jonamo and admit that no other suffix had any value to him.
Keyna's eyebrows rose at Rillamo's choice of Jonamo. This pair did not get along. He recognized an ill-concealed smirk on Rillamo's face, and it explained much. He had chosen Jonamo because he did not like him. Logically, if Keyna chose to take action, he would either punish Jonamo or else order him to submit to advances. Rillamo would get to see or do something Jonamo would not like.
Keyna considered. Rillamo would not be too difficult to train; he had basically accepted the loss of his freedom, but still had some spite and self-righteousness toward other Mayree. That could be dispensed with by humbling him until he realized he was no different than any other Mayra.
Jonamo was a more difficult case. Since Keyna had found his key to controlling him, Jonamo had silently obeyed every command given. But he was not truly Mayree yet; he merely did as he was told to avoid punishment. He had to be broken, to totally and unconditionally surrender to his master, in order to become a quality slave. If Jonamo vehemently opposed unwanted intercourse, this could be an opportunity to drive him to submission.
He beckoned to Jonamo, choosing his words carefully to get the response he wanted. "He says you refused him. Did you hurt him, Mayra?"
"Yes, Keyna."
Keyna eyed him. "Make it up to him, Mayra."
"I don't understand, Keyna." Jack said.
"He is right here. Give him what he wants, Mayra." Keyna sat back expectantly. What would Jonamo do, he wondered? He hoped the Mayra would resist so that he would have the focal point he needed for the battle of wills that would inevitably end with the Mayra's surrender.
The Mayra did not hesitate. He embraced his accuser, nipping his neck and whispering something in his ear. Far from enjoying his triumph, Rillamo froze, responding as if he were hearing threats rather than endearments. Jonamo nuzzled him and whispered again.
Rillamo thrust Jonamo violently away.
Jonamo stumbled back, and then started after Rillamo.
"No!" Rillamo cried. "Keyna please!" He held up his hands to ward off Jonamo.
Jonamo stopped and looked questioningly at Keyna's chest, indicating a request for direction without meeting his eyes.
"Do as you are told, mayree!" Keyna snapped. He was fairly sure now that Jonamo had whispered some dire threat into Rillamo's ear to avoid the situation without refusing an order himself. This might just be the training tool Keyna needed to break Jonamo.
Jonamo started toward Rillamo again.
The other man backed away. "No, Keyna, I beg you! Not with him!" He circled around, avoiding the pursuing Jonamo. "Keyna, please! He, he, he is diseased!"
"What?!"
The panicked man blurted out that the other mayra was diseased. Even the hair below was a different color. He had seen it this morning in the baths. He begged his master for mercy.
"Is this true?" demanded Keyna. "Show me, Mayra."
Biting his lip, Jonamo showed him.
Sure enough, the hair at his groin was darker than the unusual silvery color on his head. Keyna wondered which was the healthy shade. He'd heard stories of people living so long that the hair on their head turned some other color, but those were legends from before the Forever Feud. Now, everyone joined the military on their seventeenth birthday. A woman returned to civilian life when her belly swelled with her first child, a man when his firstborn could stand before the commander. A mother returned to lifelong military service after fifteen years, and a father when his firstborn enlisted on the child's seventeenth birthday. Keyna had known old soldiers, even one who managed to survive to the amazing age of forty-three, and their hair had not changed colors. This Mayra must indeed be diseased.
Disappointed, Keyna rescinded his order. He saw relief in Rillamo and muted triumph in Jonamo. He forbid Jonamo sexual contact with anyone. He did not want his healthy stock infected. For good measure, and to snatch victory from Jonamo, he also imposed the traditional control on overly aggressive Mayree. If Jonamo hurt anyone without orders from Keyna, the same would be done to Jonamo. A slow smile spread on Rillamo's face, and it was Jonamo's turn to freeze. Keyna knew Rillamo would make sure the other Mayree knew Jonamo was now defenseless, and they would turn on him. Jonamo would have no real rest at night, and if the exhaustion didn't speed him toward surrender, the mistakes and corrections it caused would.
Keyna was even further behind schedule now. He decided to give Jonamo another outside test. He sent him off with instructions to wash all the dirty Mayree uniforms in the river. The Mayree would change into them before being brought before Keyna in the evening. If he found silt on them, there would be punishment. It sounded simple enough, as if it were a test to prove he was working hard when unsupervised. But the wind from the previous night had never died down. Anyone and anything outside the compound would be coated with the fine sand.
oOo
Jack had been sent to the river with nothing but the uniforms and some soap. The enforcer had made a point of removing them from the laundry bag first, so there was no use asking for something to cover them with, even if he had been allowed to initiate a conversation. He was clearly being set up to fail, but he'd do his best to succeed anyway. When he'd reached the river, he stripped out of his own uniform and tied knots in the waists, one wrist and one ankle. After washing each other uniform, he held it underwater as he turned it inside out, wadded it up, and stuffed it in either the open wrist or open ankle of his uniform. He would wring the bundles out when he was done, and carry them back inside the makeshift "bags." For Keyna to see it, any silt would have to get through his uniform as well as from inside to outside of the others. He dearly hoped it would work.
Jack had seen someone stealthily creeping closer. Not by much, just some reeds 'blowing' for a brief moment after the fickle wind had paused. He had been anxiously considering what to say. If he gave the alarm again, a second team would probably take him out on the spot. They may be planning to do it anyway, depending on what they thought of Wood's report. He kept working. They would make contact if they intended to.
A reed rustled when the wind was calm. That was deliberate. A subtle request for attention. Jack looked in its direction a long moment later. A face appeared briefly between the fronds. Morgan. Thank god. He could trust her to protect his secret. Keyna's training method would be effective on Jack anywhere in the universe. If it got out, he would be useless. Worse, he'd be available as a tool for anyone ruthless enough to use him.
He wanted to lie, but he hadn't come up with anything remotely believable for his refusing rescue. Even if he pretended to be brainwashed, they would simply abduct him. Keyna wouldn't know, or care, about the difference.
oOo
Carter, Teal'c, and Daniel waited with Hammond as the iris opened. Evans, Archer and Finney appeared. A brief pause, then Morgan came through. She looked up at the hopeful faces behind the glass and shook her head. The wormhole closed behind her.
A grim party made its way silently to the briefing room.
"Colonel?" The habitual smirk that Morgan laughingly called a birthmark was missing, replaced by a cold stillness that he recognized as controlled anger.
Morgan got right to the point. "He can't be taken by stealth, sir. Suggest attempting a diplomatic solution while we plan for replacing the ruling party."
"Replacing the ruling party?" Daniel echoed. She couldn't be serious.
"We are by far the superior power. We can take them in a single military strike," she told him matter-of-factly. "We could end their current war and have a new indigenous government in place -- on both sides if necessary -- in a matter of weeks." She looked toward Carter and Teal'c for support. "You have to admit ending the war would save a lot of indigenous lives."
Carter bit her lip and cocked her head, considering. She didn't like the idea of overthrowing someone else's government per se, but Morgan did have a point. The battle they had unintentionally 'gated into had erupted within the minutes between sending the MALP and the team; and both sides had already been intense enough to turn on the newcomers without hesitation.
"It would be possible," Teal'c confirmed.
Morgan looked to her team, who each nodded in turn. She saw the reluctant agreement around the table and turned back to Hammond. "Request permission to begin planning, sir."
"Denied. We don't just overthrow an alien government."
"Insurrection, then." They would have to study the population, hopefully not for too much longer, but then surely they could instigate some actions to make the locals bring down their government on their own.
"Enough, Colonel." Hammond stared at her; she didn't look away but neither did she speak. "We'll send a raiding party to extract him with whatever force necessary."
"You can't, General. He's secured. Even if you do manage to drag him out, he'll end up back there."
"Secured how?"
"I can't tell you, sir."
"Would you like to step into my office?" He half-rose, expecting her to follow him and explain in private.
"I can't tell you there, either, sir."
"Why not?"
"Answering could endanger military personnel and/or operations, sir."
Hammond frowned. As the commander of both the personnel and operation involved, it was highly unusual for the military version of the fifth amendment to be invoked against him. Morgan's expression and all those extra "sirs" in her speech showed that she knew she was on shaky ground. This was not the place for that conversation, however. "We'll discuss this later, Colonel. For the time being, are you sure he can't be extracted by a raiding party?"
"Yes, sir. We have to change at least the local leadership."
"Change them how?" Hammond wasn't stupid, but he wanted to be absolutely certain he understood her intent.
"I'll be happy to blow them all to hell for you, sir."
"We are not going to overthrow their government!"
She pursed her lips. Overthrow, insurrection, stealth, and surgical strike all out of the question. "Negotiate, then. If political attempts fail, I recommend assassination."
"Colonel!" Carter gasped.
Teal'c's fists clenched.
The General just stared.
"What?" Daniel looked around. "You consider toppling an entire government, but you're shocked at shooting one guy?"
Carter tore her eyes off Morgan and turned to her friend. "She means the Colonel."
It was Daniel's turn to gape. "Did you mean it? You'd assassinate Jack?"
Morgan looked at him levelly. "I won't leave him there. There are things worse than death."
oOo
Major Carter strode into the base eagerly. It was Sunday morning, maybe the summons meant they had information about the Colonel. She went straight to the General's office.
The Antonans were there, along with Hammond and the diplomatic team. Carter tried to hide her disappointment. She bowed her head in the Antonan greeting.
"General Hammond, how thoughtful to invite Major Carter's sister to this auspicious occasion as we make our partnership official!" the Antonan leader, Arcule, complimented.
Hammond shot her a confused look before pointing out that this was Major Carter herself, not a sister.
Arcule's eyes narrowed, as if he suspected a joke was being played. When no punch line was delivered, he elaborated. "Meaning no disrespect to your lovely sister, your eyes are larger and your lips fuller than hers. You may appear identical to Earthlings, but we Antonans can clearly see the difference."
"Oh, um, thank you." Carter tried to phrase her response carefully. You couldn't always tell when another culture would take something the wrong way. "It's me, Arcule. I'm wearing makeup today. It's a temporary coloring that Earth women use to enhance their appearance. I don't usually wear it at work here on the base."
He looked suspicious, as if still expecting that punch line.
"I'll go wash it off. You'll see." She turned, and found Arcule and his entourage following. She hesitated, then continued on. Having a group of aliens watch as she washed her face would hardly be the strangest thing she ever did at the SGC.
Finney, one of Morgan's team, came out of one of the bathroom stalls as she was drying her face. She washed her hands in a nearby basin, her face carefully blank before the higher ranking officers.
Carter froze, keeping her own mildly amused look on her face as an idea began to form. A way to rescue the Colonel.
oOo
Jack walked to the Mayree pen with mixed feelings. He'd been ecstatic to bring those uniforms back clean and avoid a correction. The pissed look on Keyna's face did not bode well for tomorrow, though. Would Morgan and the SGC be able to think up a way to get him out of here before he got punished again?
He was so absorbed in his own thoughts that he started toward his usual corner without noticing that something had changed. He almost bumped into the adult male Mayree who were blocking his path. There was no mistaking their hostility. Glancing between the threatening faces of the men, he saw the women and children in their usual corner, but with the children by the wall and the women's bodies blocking their view of this area. No one was lying on the ground today, but the women's grim expressions showed they weren't celebrating that fact. The women started loudly chanting a Mayree song, no doubt intended to cover any noise from this end of the enclosure.
Forget about tomorrow, he was in trouble right now.