A/N: I still encourage you to give what you can to organizations helping the Ukrainian refugees or sending aid into Ukraine directly. Today, 1.5 million people have fled Ukraine into the neighboring countries... We're doing the best we can but we can't do it alone. And the vast majority of our aid is grassroots... not coordinated or controlled by the state at all. We're a country of 38 million that's already taken in over a million Ukrainian refugees. We need help to be able to help. Thank you.
Chapter 14, part 2.
Alice closed the door to her locker, nodded at the only other woman in the room, headed out into the corridor—and almost collided with someone walking past.
"Oh, I'm sorry," she apologized automatically, taking a step back.
"No, that was my fault, I should look where I'm going!" Daniel protested, throwing Alice a smile. "Heading out?"
She was wearing civilian clothes, which could only mean that she was leaving the base. "Yeah, gotta leave early to pick up my cousin from the airport."
"I'm going topside, too—let's walk out together," he proposed and made a gesture for her to join him.
"Sure," Alice agreed and they moved off the spot together.
"So, your cousin's visiting you?" Jackson asked kindly.
"Not exactly. Tobey's an airman, too—a first lieutenant, now. He's been working in Satellite Command and Control in Los Angeles, but he's being reassigned to Space Control at Peterson soon. He wants to get a place in town instead of at the base and I promised I'd help him house-hunt this weekend."
"That's nice of you." Daniel ushered her into an elevator and got in behind her. "Is there anyone in your family who's not military?"
Alice nodded and smirked. "The women generally aren't—I'm a bit of an outlier there. But my uncle, his son Tobey, my dad and my brother all were or still are in the service. My other uncle, my mom's brother, isn't, though."
"That'll be Congressman Kelly, right? The one who found out about the Program and who got a rather more interesting ride on a 304 than what he'd bargained for?"
Alice sighed heavily. "Yes, the very same. I wish this weren't public knowledge."
"I'm sure it isn't—I'm just exceptionally knowledgeable." He grinned at her before turning around to get out; they were at level 11, where they had to get another elevator to go up to the surface. "And on that note—did you hear about the new Atlantis leader?"
"No. Did they finally make a decision?" Alice was vitally interested. She may have not been part of the expedition anymore, but she still had many friends there; plus, she felt very self-conscious and even a little guilty about the whole Cox resigning thing.
"Yes. It was a real tough one, too. The IOA was pushing to get one of their own figureheads in there, but there had been too many internal struggles—you know, Shen's been waiting for years for that opportunity, but there were more countries than just the US concerned about China leading the expedition."
"I can't exactly blame them," Alice agreed. "I could hardly imagine it myself."
"They didn't want the military again—you know, with what Cox did, they had good arguments to stop that from happening. But they couldn't agree on who from among them should be the new Woolsey, so in the end, they decided on someone from the outside—completely, outside of the Program. His name's Trevor Childes, he's a global law professor at Notre Dame, former deputy ambassador to the UN, and a long-timer in the diplomatic world."
"That sounds eerily familiar," Alice remarked.
"Yes, I think they figured Elizabeth Weir was such a great first expedition leader, might as well try someone with a similar background." He sounded a little amused.
"Notre Dame is an interesting twist, though," she mused. "Coming to terms with everything we know of our origins as a species might be a tad overwhelming if he is a devout Catholic."
He nodded. "Indeed. I guess whoever is going to be tasked with bringing him up to speed is going to have their work cut out for them." Now his voice was almost mocking, and Alice got a little chill. They wouldn't stick her with the job, now, would they?
By this time, they were already on the surface and walking through the tunnel that led outside. They could already see the light at the end.
"I'm sure Sheppard will be right glad that someone is finally gonna step up," Daniel continued when it became clear Alice wouldn't take the bait. "He absolutely hates being in charge."
"I think he hates the administrative side of it," Alice clarified. "All the paperwork and stuff. Plus he loves going offworld and I doubt he'd want to give it up."
"Much like Mitchell," he agreed lightly. "I'm thinking about letting up, but I don't think he ever will."
Alice stopped in her tracks. "Really? You'd really give it up?"
He looked at her around his shoulder and halted, too. "Well, not the entire Program—just the SG-1. I've been doing this for sixteen years, Alice. Everyone else has moved on: Jack's heading the whole Homeworld Command, Sam's got the SGC to run, Teal'c left to be a leader to his people… and I'm getting a little tired of always running around, never able to focus on a single thing for long. I got into it—well, initially I was just happy that someone thought my theories were right. And then I joined in to find Sha're, and then stayed to fight the Goa'uld, and the Replicators, and the Ori… but we've dealt with all of them, and the galaxy is more or less safe. I know there's still some problems—the Lucian Alliance, and this Wraith you're hunting… but it's nothing like what we've faced before and for the first time I feel like I might actually walk away without feeling guilty, and give my research the focus it deserves."
Alice shook her head. One more person who didn't think of Jareth as the threat he was; but then again he wasn't cleared to know what Alice had seen in the future timeline, so it was understandable.
"Well, as long as you stay close and are ready to help out when needed…" She didn't finish, but he understood.
"If I'm ever needed, I'll be there," he assured her and they both started walking again.
"What'll happen to the SG-1 if you leave?" Alice wondered.
"They'll get someone new. There's plenty of brilliant young people in the Program. And it's not like there isn't a precedence." Alice knew he was referring to Jonas Quinn, the alien who'd joined the SG-1 briefly after Daniel had ascended. She shook her head. The kind of life this man had led—it was bonkers to even just think about it. But, then again, she had seen herself forty years in the future, so maybe crazy was just something that happened to you when you were in the Program for long enough.
"They'll have impossibly big shoes to fill," she said, already pitying whomever was going to try.
He shrugged. "Everything changes. We thought no-one was going to ever be able to replace Jack, but Cam's held his own. So does Jen—she's been mentored by Sam since she was still in the Academy, so there's little wonder about that. And now that Teal'c's gone to live on Chulak, Vala is the team's best source of information on how things work in the galaxy—not that we need it that much anymore, but she's very helpful anyway. Can't believe I said that," he added, amused.
Alice nodded understandingly, but didn't cop to how enormously she had misjudged Vala. "You have anyone in mind who could take your place in the team?" She asked instead.
"I have a few candidates, but I'll let Cameron make the decision. This job is as much about getting along well with your teammates as anything—but I'm sure you know it well."
Alice didn't confirm. She had really been thrust into the position of a unit leader and had no say on the composition of the team; they had been chosen for her. It was really only the SG-1 that had its pick of candidates. She was lucky to end up with a team she actually liked, though perhaps there was no great love between them yet; but then again, Watson and Morgan were enlisted airmen, and Alice and Rodriguez were not supposed to mingle with them too much. Still, at the SGC, mixed teams were closer than officers from different units. Aside from her own, Alice only ever hung out with SG-1.
"By the way, how is your covert mission going?" Daniel asked when she didn't reply, apparently not put off by her silence.
"Surprisingly good, actually." They were at the parking lot and halted by Jackson's car. "We're starting to get the business going, and already have a few contacts that are very promising long-term. It'll take time to build our brand and get noticed by someone bigger than simple merchants, though."
"Sounds like you're on the right track."
"I hope so." She nodded and then gestured at his car. "I won't hold you anymore. Have a good day, Daniel."
"You too." He smiled, waved at her and got into his vehicle. Alice had to walk a little further to get to hers.
Half an hour later she was standing in the arrivals section of the terminal at the Colorado Springs airport and scanning the crowd in search of dark hair and bushy brows of her favorite cousin.
"Allie!" She heard the familiar voice call and she pivoted on her heel to greet him.
"Hey, Tobey!" She gave him a hug; even though he was average height for a guy, he still towered over her by some five inches or so. "How was the flight?"
"Mercifully short," he responded as they started walking towards the exit. "Anytime I get to fly to Washington to visit Dad, it feels like my legs are gonna cramp to death."
"Being short has its drawbacks but at least I don't have that problem," she quipped in response.
"I bet your feet don't even reach the ground when you sit in an airplane seat." He chuckled.
She rolled her eyes. "I'm not that short. Actually, I'm pretty sure I'm perfectly average size for a woman in the US. It's just that I seem to be surrounded by giants all the time." She drew consolation in the fact that Hailey and Teyla were almost the same height as her; maybe half an inch to an inch taller.
"Yeah, well, Jake puts us all to shame," he agreed with a twinkle in his eye.
They got to her car and Alice opened the trunk so he could store his carry-on suitcase inside. Alice was already turning the key in the ignition when he got in on the passenger side.
"Listen, I wanna thank you again for doing this," he told her as they left the parking lot. "I know you're crazy busy, so it really means a lot."
"Of course, Tobey. What are older cousins for if not helping younger ones house-hunt?" She joked, throwing him a smile.
"Yeah, right. But, really—you didn't need to invite me into your home, I could get a room at the Peterson's Inn, you know—"
"Nonsense. I have a perfectly good guest room that stands empty most of the time. Besides, you gotta meet Deanna—it's a treat in itself."
"I can't wait." He grinned with just a shade of sarcasm.
"She won't be home yet, I'm afraid—she's usually back around six." It wasn't even four yet; Alice felt a little odd to be out of work that early. "When's this tour today?"
"Six-thirty. Can we make it?"
"Easily. We'll be home in ten minutes. Colorado Springs doesn't suffer from traffic jams so much—not like L.A. does, anyway," Alice explained. "It's a pretty good place to live."
"So I've read. Did you know it's something like the sixth best place to live in America?"
"I did not," she admitted. "Though I'm perhaps not the best person to ask about that. I mean, I've lived here for four months, but I can't say I know the city too well. I spend most of my time at work."
"Why does that not surprise me?" He chuckled. "I am surprised you live so far from the base, though—isn't Broadmoor like the other side of town?"
Alice side-eyed him for a second, before looking back to the road and sighing. It made no sense to try and keep up the pretense—he was going to know that she doesn't really work at Peterson soon enough. "Actually, I spend most of my time at the Cheyenne Mountain Air Force Station. Broadmoor is close to that."
"NORAD?" He whistled.
"Actually, NORAD's main Command Center's been moved to Peterson. Cheyenne now hosts its Alternate Command Center and some other units, including mine."
"Here comes the vagueness again," he noted. "I wish you could just tell me."
"I could be court-martialed if I did that," she countered.
"That would be sub-optimal," he agreed with amusement in his voice. "Still. You know, I haven't forgotten what happened in the Pentagon during my dad's promotion party, and what I'd heard."
She sighed. "I wish you would."
"I haven't told anyone if that's what you're worried about," he continued lightly. "Not even dad, and he tried very hard to get me to spill the beans, even though I hadn't really heard much more than he had."
"And I appreciate your discretion. Not that you had any other choice—you did sign an NDA, and now you're under orders."
He laughed. "So, limited appreciation, then." He paused for a few heartbeats, and then added speculatively: "I haven't stopped thinking about it, either. I even have a theory on what it all meant."
Alice arched her eyebrows. "Oh?" But they were just turning onto her street, so she dismissed it for a moment. "We're here."
She parked on the driveway—it didn't make sense to use the garage since they were going to leave in a couple hours again anyway.
"Nice house," Tobey opined as they got out, took his suitcase from the trunk and walked towards the front door. "How are you even able to afford that?"
Alice laughed. "By making a lot more money than a lieutenant does, Tobey."
He grinned. "I guess I have something to look forward to, then."
She just shook her head, amused, and opened the door to let them in. She didn't mention that she was getting sizable additional allowances, among them the Assignment Incentive Pay, which increased her monthly salary almost by half; all members of the Program received it as a way to compensate them for this unusual assignment, and those in frontline units—like Atlantis expedition members, BC-304 crews and SG teams—typically got the maximum possible amount, and because their positions were considered to be in combat zone, they didn't even need to pay taxes on it.
Alice got Tobey settled in the guest room and left him to freshen up while she went down to the kitchen to get sodas and some snacks for them both. She was just munching on a Pop Tart when her cousin came in and sat down on the other side of the breakfast island.
"Gosh, Allie, you're so thin, I didn't think you stooped so low anymore and actually ate," he joked.
Alice just rolled her eyes, feeling increasingly tired with this kind of remarks, and instead decided to get back to the earlier topic. "So, what's your theory on the Pentagon incident?" She prompted him, pushing the plate of warm sugary pastries towards him.
He picked one up and bit half of it off at once. Took him a second before he swallowed and was able to speak again. "Well, you know, I've had lots of time to think about it all—not just what happened and what I'd heard, but yours and Jake's involvement, and everything I'd noticed about you two's career paths."
Alice raised her eyebrows, but didn't interrupt him.
"You're supposed to be part of the 21st Space Wing, which is clearly a cover—but you have the Space and Missile Badge, so there's gotta be something in it. And the fact that Jake is somehow involved speaks volumes—it's not usual for Marines, so it's gotta be somehow operational, in the field I mean. You both got hurt in combat, so that supports that assertion. So with all that in mind, I think it's all about a space arms race—except with China and not Russia, this time around."
Alice tried to keep a poker face and just continued to stare at him without any reaction whatsoever.
"It makes sense—it's highly classified, in both countries. There's probably a lot of espionage and covert operations going on, you know, trying to sabotage their efforts and defend us from their attempts to do the same to us. So what I've seen in the Pentagon was probably Chinese spies trying to, I dunno, steal some documents or something. Somehow, they got in and were on their way, but were stopped by the poor Marine—so they killed him and then took hostages to find out where their objective was or something. Essentially, they fucked up. You stopped them."
Alice took another Pop Tart and nibbled at it, temporizing until Tobey decided to speak again.
"The things I've heard—it all makes sense, too. You mentioned Kull—I figure it's probably some kind of advanced armor or weapons system the Chinese have designed, super-duper secret, of course, but we have a way of neutralizing it—the Kull disruptor, whatever that is. And you also mentioned Homeworld Command, which is probably a department within the DoD that deals with the space arms race, located somewhere in the Pentagon. And then there's the Daedalus… Jake said something about it being in orbit, so it's either a satellite or a space station. I think keeping a whole space station secret from the world would be a tad difficult, so my money is on a satellite—probably a communications one, since it was somehow supposed to help you get this Kull disruptor thingy. I think we have a whole military space program that's completely separate from NASA. I even tried to look for this Daedalus at C2, but I couldn't find it. And I think you're somehow a vital part of this program—you always say that you mostly sit at a desk or in the lab, and sometimes do other things. So I think your job is mostly as an engineer, but sometimes you gotta go into the field to, I dunno, gather intel or sabotage them or something, bottom line is that your engineering expertise is needed both on the home front and in the field, which sometimes leads to you getting into ground combat." He waited for a moment, and then asked: "Am I even close?"
"I can't comment on any of it," she replied levelly, thinking that in some ways he was very close—and it all did make sense. This could be a good cover story, she decided. Of course, it would need to be refined; and it couldn't say out right that they were competing in a space arms race with China, but if they managed to imply it, it might actually do better than their current weak-ass covers…
"Oh, come on! Give me something!" He pleaded.
She sighed. "Well, I can tell you this—you're right that my engineering skills are useful both on the home front and in the field, and that I am sometimes going into combat. I can't confirm or deny anything else, though."
"HA! I knew it!" He pumped his fist in the air. "See, that's why I think whatever you do must be infinitely more interesting than sitting at a computer and staring at the satellite readouts all day. You did promise me you'll tell me what I can do to join your unit."
"I can give you some general advice, but it's not a guarantee," she cautioned.
"I know, I know. But you did tell me not to go for pilot wings, and steered me towards Space Operations for a reason, right?"
She shook her head. "You told me you wanted to be an astronaut. There are only two ways to do that from inside the military: either be an excellent pilot or an excellent engineer and/or scientist. The first path is harder to achieve—you need at least a thousand hours as a pilot-in-command, and that's paradoxically easier to do in commercial flying than in the military. As a fighter pilot, you'd be doing around a hundred and fifty to two hundred hours of flight a year—you can do the math yourself. And actually getting a rated position is not as easy in itself."
He threw up his hands. "I know, I know. I wouldn't get it, I'm not good enough." There was a bit of bitterness in his voice.
"It's not as much about being good enough as being right for that kind of work," Alice contradicted kindly. "It's all about having the right skills for the right job. You just happen to have a set of abilities that are not necessarily useful for a pilot, but are absolutely vital for an engineer."
"You seem to excel at everything you touch," he noted with a note of envy.
"That's not true." She shook her head again. "I've just been enormously lucky to get some opportunities that wouldn't otherwise be available to me… I only got into the flight school in the first place because the Air Force wanted a certain number of candidates to be women. That's not to say that I had it easier than my male colleagues," she hastened to add. "In fact, in a very real sense, it was harder to me, if for no other reason than because of their attitude, and that of my instructors."
"Yeah, I read the article in the Gazette," he admitted, nodding sympathetically. "It was awful. I'm sorry."
She looked up at the ceiling. "Is there anyone who hasn't read it?" She exhaled with frustration, and then decided to get back to the original topic. "Anyway, I got my chance to prove myself because of a PR stunt. If not for that, I probably wouldn't have become a pilot, either."
"Well, you're not a pilot now," he said, a bit hesitatingly. "It surprised me a bit, you know. That you just… gave it up."
She shifted her gaze back to his face. "I miss it sometimes," she admitted seriously. "But I am more useful doing what I'm doing now than I was flying fighters."
"That's pretty incredible. After all the money the Air Force has spent training you, they just let you move, just like that?"
She smirked. "They didn't let me move, Tobey—they ordered me to. I didn't really want it. But it is what it is. The Air Force can be very flexible—when it's in their best interest."
"You think there's a chance they can be flexible about me?" He asked, his eyes pleading, asking her to say yes.
"I think the bigger question is what do you want?" She arched her eyebrows. "Because I can guarantee you, if you go this way, becoming an astronaut is not going to be in your path."
This actually silenced him for the moment, and he frowned deeply.
"If your goal is to become an astronaut, as you've always wanted, C2 or Space Control are in fact, great billets to get you there. With a year of experience at C2 already behind you, in two short years you'll be able to apply to the space program at NASA. That is not a guarantee—they are looking for truly exceptional people, and you'll have to work hard to get in. But I know you can do it—you have the potential," Alice told him earnestly. "It's gonna take a lot of hard work over many years—even if you do get in. 13S is gonna get you there, if you're good enough. But if you're already bored with looking at screens…" She shrugged. There was no need to finish that sentence.
He swallowed hard. "And if I wanted to go into what you do?"
"It's a little more complex." She got up and started pilfering through the cabinets, looking for some more snacks; their Pop Tarts were no more. She found a bag of potato chips and poured them into a bowl that she deposited on the island between them. "First of all, you don't even know what it is. It is a lot more exciting than Space Control, that I can guarantee—but how do you know how much excitement you can deal with?"
"I don't know—but let's assume I can take it. What do I need to do to get in?" He asked and then shoved a handful of chips into his mouth.
Alice snickered. Sometimes, he was just like Jake. "Actually, there are many paths into—uhm, let's call it the Program. But basically, you need to outperform your peers, and preferably do something to bring positive attention to yourself. We screen thousands of prospective candidates every year, and only a few get the opportunity to actually join us. But it's not just about your abilities, it's also about your attitude and mental competences. There's a specific profile we're looking for."
"Wait, does that mean that I've already been assessed and rejected?" He was frowning again.
"Possibly," Alice allowed. "Although the bulk of our screening is done within tactical operations, so it's equally possible that you haven't been looked at yet. I can't tell one way or another."
"That's… concerning," he confessed. "I don't wanna be chasing after something that's already been decided is out of reach for me."
She nodded understandingly. "Which is why I think you should think it through really carefully." She paused, and then added encouragingly: "For what it's worth, I think you have a chance. You've graduated CalTech cum laude, I'm sure you're an excellent engineer—you just haven't had the opportunity to prove it in practice yet. So you gotta find a way to do that—show everyone that your technical expertise, or at least your potential is bigger than that of other people. And I'm afraid you're gonna have to work on some other aspects, too. One is leadership, of course, but also—well, you gotta be in top shape, physically, so time in the gym and on the shooting range is gonna be imperative."
"So, basically everything?" He summed up with a touch of amusement in his voice, but his expression was still mostly worried.
"If you don't bring the physical part up, you'd have to be a leading expert in your area—not just an engineer, but a real scientist. That usually takes years. But if you're a great engineer, in good physical shape, and you've got the right psychological profile, then I don't see a reason why you couldn't be selected for the Program. But I strongly advise you—very strongly advise you to think it through. It's not an easy way to earn a living."
"I know," he acknowledged gravely. "I mean… your scars and medals speak volumes. And…" He hesitated. "You know, you seem sadder."
"Sadder?" She looked at him dispassionately, even though inside her muscles tightened in surprise. Was it really so obvious to everyone?
"Yeah. You talk way more than you used to—but you smile less."
She closed her eyes for just a moment. He was not wrong. She used to be scared to open her mouth in fear of saying the wrong thing; her social competences have improved greatly in the past few years. She was older now, more experienced—and frankly, the things she'd been through had given her a lot of perspective. She still didn't particularly like talking to strangers or chatting about the weather and whatnot, but she was no longer terrified of social interactions. As to the second part of his sentence—she used to employ smiles instead of words; now, smiling mostly made her feel disingenuous. She had little reason for genuine mirth; which didn't mean that she never smiled. But most of it were sarcastic smirks or snickers, or fake cheer to make herself more approachable and less of a lonely mountain.
"Well, like I said—it's not easy. It… it takes a toll on a person." It was a moment before she realized she was repeating Carter's words from many years before. When the then-lieutenant colonel had first come to invite Alice to join the Program, she used the same exact phrase, talking about the downsides of it. "The good news is that it's volunteer-based. You don't get assigned there; you're invited. You can always say no, even after you've been briefed."
"Really?"
"Really." She paused for a heartbeat, and added: "I don't think anyone within the military ever said no, though."
He raised his eyebrows, but didn't respond for a moment, mulling it over and chomping at the remainder of the chips. "You know, it doesn't sound like these two goals are mutually exclusive, at least at the beginning," he finally declared, having swallowed the last bit. "Being an astronaut requires a great deal of physical excellence, too. Maybe not on the shooting range so much, but still—I can train with either prospect in mind, can't I? Honing my leadership or engineering skills can't hurt either of them, too, right?"
"Right," Alice agreed. "It's a good place to start."
"Then that's what I'll do," he decided, and then added musingly: "You know, if I got a place nearby, we could train together."
Alice laughed. "I think you'd be better served training with your squadron at the base. I only do the morning run here, and not every day anyway—I often stay at the base overnight and work out in the gym there."
"You work all night?!"
"No, no," she reassured him; though she often did work until the middle of the night, just because it was better than lying in bed idly, waiting for sleep to come. "I have a room at the base—nothing fancy, it's just a bed, a desk and a closet for spare uniforms, but it's assigned to me and I can get a few hours of shut-eye there."
He raised his eyebrows. "That's unusual, isn't it?"
She shrugged. "Not for us. Everyone has their own quarters on the base—not everyone's is personal, the enlisted personnel doubles or triples up in one room, and not everyone uses it anyway. Few people work as much as I do," she admitted.
"That I can believe with no reservations." He nodded.
Alice looked at her watch. "We should get going, we don't wanna be late for the tour."
He finished his soda and put it on the counter. "Let's get going, then."
Tobey had scheduled no less than six viewings during the two days of the weekend—one on Friday afternoon and five on Saturday. Alice insisted also on taking him to Peterson, so he could have a look at the on-base housing and all the amenities it offered—from the Exchange, through the different parks and restaurants, to the golf course located at the edge of the base. Tobey admitted it was all very convenient, but remained adamant about living off-base. At least, she thought, he seemed to have decided on an apartment mere minutes away from Peterson's North Gate.
"At least it's just a half an hour drive to your place," he commented, satisfied, as they were going back.
"Sure, because we'll have so much time to spend together," she replied sarcastically.
It didn't dampen Tobey's spirits. He was excited to start a new chapter, and Alice knew that getting away from the place that reminded him of Samantha was a part of it; but beyond that, he seemed just really glad for the prospect of moving on and learning new things. Alice couldn't help but remember herself at his age—or, rather, at the same stage of her career, since she had been younger when she had achieved his current rank—and reminisce that she had been much the same: just really ambitious and determined, and ready to learn. Nowadays, career advancement didn't seem that important to her anymore; and as much as she wanted to continue to grow, she was too wrapped up in her obsession with finding Jareth and trying to deal with her cloud of darkness to focus on it too much. She was doing a correspondence course from the Air Command and Staff College—the completion of which was a requirement to ever be considered for promotion in the future—and of course she kept working on her scientific and engineering projects, in between applying fixes to alien tech acquired as her undercover persona, but it was more because she needed a distraction from her thoughts and emotions rather than that deep-rooted need to grow that she had had as a young First Lieutenant.
On Sunday, Alice took Tobey and Deanna for a morning hike and then lunch at one of the nicer restaurants in town. Her cousin and roommate hit it off almost immediately, as Alice had predicted—they were both friendly and had similar sunny dispositions, so it was little wonder that they got along pretty well. Alice found it easier to spend time with Dee when there was someone else present—it took away a little of the awkwardness she still felt around the girl.
In the afternoon Alice drove Tobey to Denver to catch a flight back to L.A., and when she finally got home that evening, she found that she felt pretty good; normally, weekends were the worst part of her week, because they accorded too much free time to think and feel, but having Tobey there demanded most of her attention and gave her a bit of respite from herself. It didn't help at night, of course—nights were even worse than weekend days, and she was still only ever sleeping more than a couple of hours at one time if she resorted to the proven mix of Benadryl and whiskey. She knew it was neither safe nor smart, but she saw no other option; she could not sleep without it anymore, and it provided a little bit of relief to the perpetual hazy cloud of exhaustion she lived in now.
Mostly, she managed to hide just how bad things were, at least at work. Being able to let go for a moment while she was Nova Ray still brought her immense relief, even if it was just for a few hours at a time; and, when not off-world, she spent most of her time alone in her lab. She was recently finding herself staring blankly into space more often, instead of actually concentrating on her research, but even that could be easily explained if anyone noticed—she could always say she was lost in thought. The hardest part was being fully present when talking to her teammates or other people in the base; she had to make herself focus on what was being said, otherwise she had a tendency to drift away, especially when the conversation was becoming trivial—like when Watson spoke about his kids' shenanigans or Rodriguez enthused about his weekend bike rides, and suchlike. Life outside of the Program didn't seem real for Alice—even when she merely heard about it from others.
There were moments when it all came out, spilling like water poured into an already full cup. She tried to watch her temper at work, but even there it happened to her to snap at people; and Deanna, Aaron and Jake were regularly on the receiving end of her anger. It was still mostly in the form of coldness or biting sarcasm, but it was there; knowing about it did not mean she could help it, though.
It became apparent that her sorry state was starting to get noticed a couple weeks after Tobey's house-hunting visit. It was a Wednesday, after a string of wakeful nights; Alice was trying to cut out on her sleeping aids, which resulted in complete inability to sleep more than an hour or two max per night. That morning she spent with her team at the SGC training park, located on the Air Force Academy grounds. Rodriguez, Watson and Morgan practiced a lot there, when not off-world or otherwise occupied, and Alice joined them for a few hours every couple weeks; she figured it was important for the morale to train all together from time to time, and also to ensure they kept their team dynamics, especially seeing as they weren't really going on typical missions anymore. That day, she found the exercise scenario especially physically grueling, and although they achieved the objective and she thought they all did pretty well, overall, she came back to the SGC more exhausted than usual. It was little wonder, then, that, after she got to her lab to work on one of her research projects, she found herself slowly drifting away.
She woke up with a start some time later, lifting her head from above the lab table where she had been studying energy readouts from her latest experiment; the pages were lying on the surface all mixed up and crumpled and she was blinking in the harsh electric light.
"Good morning, Alice, slept well?" A familiar voice asked, amusement and concern audible in equal measure.
Alice cleared her throat, getting up from the stool and looking at the visitor. "General Carter!" She exclaimed, embarrassed. "I'm so sorry, I—I don't know what happened…" She grabbed her phone to check the hour. Thankfully, it was still early afternoon; she'd slept no more than half an hour.
"I do." Carter shook her head, taking a seat at the table and waving at Alice to sit back down. "You seem exhausted, Major. Are you getting enough sleep?" Now pure worry rang in her voice and her expression was kind—and pitying.
Alice blinked very quickly, climbing back up on the stool. "I'm fine," she lied.
"You're forgetting that I've known you for eight years," Carter reminded her, grimacing a little. "You're not fine—that's clear. And there's little wonder why—I mean the things you've been through…"
Alice shrugged, not looking at her mentor. "We've all been through tough times. I'll be fine."
"I'm not sure you will," the general contradicted severely. "I thought you just needed time, but it's not getting any better. You're gonna work yourself to death, Alice."
The younger woman didn't reply, still studiously watching her own hands lying on the surface of the table.
"Maybe you should talk to someone," Carter suggested delicately. "Doctor Rennel will—"
"No," Alice interrupted quickly, throwing her a wild look. "I don't want—I mean, I don't need to talk to him. I'm fine."
"Please stop repeating that phrase." Carter sighed. "You need help and he's the only one qualified here to give it to you." Then she frowned, seeing Alice's mulish expression. "You know I can make it an order."
"Please, don't." Alice shook her head violently. "Not him. I mean—" She stopped, unsure of what to say.
"You don't like him." It wasn't really a question, but Alice felt it needed to be answered anyway.
"I'm sure he's very competent. It's just that, uhm… we don't really see eye to eye," she explained lamely.
"Why? What happened?"
"Nothing, it was nothing…"
"Let me be the judge of that," Carter insisted.
Alice sighed. "I caught him being a sexist dick, once. Not the first and not the last guy—"
"What do you mean? What did he do, exactly?" The general demanded, a bit miffed now—Alice wasn't sure if it was because of her reticence or Rennel's behavior she'd alluded to.
"He was sitting with a group of SFs and they were comparing notes on my and Jennifer's bodies," she replied euphemistically.
Carter closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Why am I hearing about it only now?"
"I dealt with it. There was nothing more to tell."
"Are you for real?" The general sounded really irritated now. "You've just gone and admonished the entire Armed Forces for not creating a safer working environment for all women!"
"It was just one guy and—" Alice felt defensive.
"It wasn't just one guy—you said it yourself, it was Rennel and a group of SFs. And Rennel's the resident shrink—if he's a sexist dick, don't you think it would have an impact on any woman coming to him for help?"
Alice wet her lips nervously. She hadn't actually considered how Rennel's attitude would affect other women in the base. "I don't… I mean, he seemed normal and competent the one time I spoke with him in his capacity as a psychiatrist."
Carter shook her head. "You know better than that. I'm disappointed, Major."
Alice nodded, remorseful. Hearing these words from her greatest role model was hard, but it was well deserved.
"So it's not that you don't want to talk to a therapist—you just don't want to talk to this one?" Carter pressed after a momentary silence.
Alice swallowed hard. "I don't want to talk to a therapist because I don't need to talk to a therapist," she protested heatedly. "I really am fine."
"Alice…" The older woman shook her head, visibly frustrated. "Why don't you want to accept help? With what you've been through—"
"You've been through a lot, and you never needed a therapist," Alice pointed out insolently.
"How do you know I didn't?" Carter's eyebrows arched up. "Besides, you can't compare apples to oranges. It's not a competition who had it worse. Clearly, it's affected you—"
"Ma'am—" Alice interrupted her again, the temperature of her voice suddenly dropping to single digits "—are you dissatisfied with how I've handled myself in the field so far?"
"No, but—"
"Have I been slipping with any of my deadlines?" Alice pressed on, her rage simmering icily under a thin layer of composure. "Have you had any complaints from my team?"
"Of course not, but—"
"Then I don't really see a cause for concern, ma'am. I'm doing my job, aren't I?"
Carter sighed heavily. "Work is not all there is, Alice. You need to be able to relax or you're gonna burn out. Trust me, I know."
"I appreciate it, General, but I'm fine."
"You were asleep on the table when I came in."
Alice blinked. This was a good argument. "I haven't slept well last night, that's all," she dismissed it. "It won't happen again. Was there any particular reason why you came up here, ma'am, or were you always gonna bust my chops?"
Carter sighed again and shook her head, but apparently she decided further argument was pointless. "I wanted to talk to you about a couple things, actually. I've finally had some time to catch up on some topics I'd been putting off."
Alice nodded. With the financial year now closed, the general finally had more time to focus on her main job of running the place.
"First of all, I talked to O'Neill about the problem with your cover stories, and he agreed to change them if we can come up with something better. Have you thought about what it could be?"
"Yes, ma'am." Alice got up and walked to the filing cabinet by the wall. She pulled a thin folder out of it and handed it to Carter. The general opened it and read through the first page.
"This is ingenious," she praised. "Pretty elaborate, but it could work—not just as a cover story, but a whole clever misdirection for those who might be starting to ask uncomfortable questions. Good thinking."
"Wasn't my idea, actually," Alice admitted. "My cousin Tobey was the one who came up with it. He witnessed the incident in the Pentagon a few years ago—do you remember it?"
Carter frowned and then nodded. "Mercenaries got in, killed a few people, you stopped them, right?"
"Yes. I was there for my uncle Simon's promotion party, I heard gunshots in the corridor and went out to investigate. Tobey went with me. We found a dead Marine outside; I told Tobey to fetch my brother, and when he came we discussed the situation. Tobey heard it all—didn't understand what was going on, of course, and then he had to sign an NDA, since he was just a cadet back then—he's a first lieutenant in the Air Force, now. He's never told anyone about any of what he's heard, but he recently shared his theory on what he thought happened with me, and it gave me the idea to use it." She thrummed her fingers on the folder now laying on the table. "He's way off, of course, but it's still pretty clever."
"That it is. We may need to refine it a little bit, but I'll take it to O'Neill. The Chinese might not be happy about it, though."
Alice shrugged. "I think they'll go for it. It makes them look strong."
"Maybe you're right." She nodded, closed the folder and shuffled it aside. "Now, the other thing I wanted to talk to you about is somewhat related. Do you remember a journalist named Aga Foster?"
"Oh, no," Alice moaned. "She's been quiet so long, I hoped it would never come up."
"Unfortunately, she hasn't been quiet. In fact, she's been gathering information all this time. Her investigation has already resulted in half a dozen Freedom of Information Act requests—that's what initially alerted us to her snooping."
"What did she request?"
"Personnel files—yours, mine, O'Neill's, Landry's, Hammond's, and Mitchell's."
"How'd she made the connection?" Alice shook her head. "I mean, I get you and General O'Neill—it's the same chain of command, that's public record. But how did she go from that to Landry, Hammond and especially Mitchell?"
"She's good at her job," Carter admitted grudgingly. "After she made the first FOIA request, we put a tail on her. She talked to Julia Donovan and Emmett Bregman, and she'd been turned away from the gate of the Area 51. She must have a good network of contacts—quite impressive, especially for a foreigner. We don't think Donovan or Bregman have told her anything of substance, but still…"
Alice nodded reluctantly. "And let me guess—we tried to deal with the newspaper, but they wouldn't budge, so you want me to talk to Aga directly?"
"You got it," Carter confirmed. "The NYT prides itself on strict neutrality when it comes to reporting on all things government, and apparently making a deal would be unethical—or so they claim. Short of an injunction, there is nothing we can really do to stop them from publishing what they want—and that not only would require going through a civilian court, which is not optimal, but would most likely be overturned by a higher court."
"Damned First Amendment," Alice said half-jokingly. "What am I supposed to tell her?"
"Convince her to drop the story."
"How?" The major arched her eyebrows incredulously. "Is there a deal to be had?"
"We can't negotiate for an exclusive when this goes public—that's Julia's deal, but everything else is on the table. Get a sense of what she'd accept and come back to O'Neill and me, and we'll see what we can do."
Alice nodded unenthusiastically. "You know, we should really think about a way to break the news to the public. Not now," she added hastily. "But if we don't somehow prepare the ground, we'll end up repeating the same panic-and-riots scenario I've seen in the future, and you have in the alternative reality…"
"How do you know what I've seen in an alternative reality?" Carter asked with a mix of censure and amusement in her voice. "It's supposed to be classified."
"Rumors." Alice shrugged, snickering. "Nothing stays secret forever."
"Uh huh." The general didn't sound convinced. "But I agree with you—except they don't want to listen to me…"
"They?"
"The IOA. I think the President would go for it, but they are allergic to important decisions."
"So you actually have a plan?" Alice felt intrigued. Everyone seemed comfortable with the Program being kept secret for as long as possible; it was nice to hear that there was at least one exception.
"A draft of one." Carter nodded. "Long story short, I believe we should start with increasing the rate at which we share Stargate-related technology and science with the wider world—including some of the archeological breakthroughs we've made. Get people acquainted with the ideas that the pyramids are older than we'd thought, that we might not be the first iteration of life on the planet, that there might be more to all this… And then start spreading rumors. Most people won't buy it, but then we could start giving little bits of actual truth to respectable media, let it permeate into people's wider consciousness…"
"That sounds like a solid plan," Alice said, impressed. "The IOA refused to consider it?"
"It's hard for them. In the end, they are answerable to their respective heads of state—and nobody in their right mind wants to break the news to the public, because no matter how much we prepare them, it will have a profound impact on how much people trust their governments—and on politics."
"But if we do it like you say, it'll probably take a long time, what do they care what happens ten or fifteen years from now, or more?"
Carter smiled, a bit condescendingly. "That's why it might fly with our President, but not every country's government head has the same term limits, if any."
Alice sighed. "Right."
"I'm not giving up, though," Carter assured her. "I think you and I might be the only ones who truly understand how important it is, we just need to convince others to agree with us."
"The IOA should be term-limited," Alice grumbled under her breath, but the general heard and chuckled.
"You're not wrong."
"So when am I going on this trip to New York?" Alice asked after a moment of silence.
"Tomorrow afternoon. The Sun Tzu will give you a lift." Carter paused, and then added: "And once you're done with that, they'll get you to Indiana."
Alice felt her eyebrows travel all the way up. "What am I gonna be doing in Indiana?"
"Visiting Trevor Childes at the University of Notre Dame."
Alice put her palm on her forehead and closed her eyes for a few seconds. "You want me to tell him about the Program," she stated morosely.
"You know who he is?"
"Daniel told me he was selected as the new Atlantis expedition leader."
"Indeed." Carter smirked. "I'm afraid this is your own fault—the President asked for you specifically to be assigned to this task."
"The President did?" Alice dropped her hand and looked at the general with surprise. "Why?"
"He likes you. He thinks you have a talent for storytelling. You did a great job with Congressman Kelly and his colleagues, and with the British Prime Minister—and the President himself was very impressed with your tale of the future."
Alice stifled a curse.
"So you see, had you been bad at this, he wouldn't have asked for you. And, frankly, both O'Neill and I are very glad to delegate this particular task," Carter added, amused.
"Yes, ma'am," Alice replied with a deep sigh. "Does he know anything about the Program or Atlantis?"
"He knows he's getting a new job, that it's highly classified and potentially dangerous. Your role is to gently bring him up to speed on the highlights, answer his questions, and leave him with homework—he's gotta read all the most important mission reports, at least the ones from Atlantis."
"He's gonna have more questions after," Alice noted.
"That's for sure, and we'll answer them then. You just need to get him started."
"Right." Alice looked up at the ceiling for a moment, thinking longingly to the times when she had been a simple 302 driver and nobody ever asked her to talk to people. It was difficult for her to imagine how anyone could think she was a good public speaker—she hated it with a vengeance, even if it was a public of one person.
"And, Major"— Carter hesitated —"when you talk to him, get a read on him, will you? None of us know him—we've only heard of him, but he's essentially an unknown quantity. Just because the IOA figured a third-party candidate would be acceptable politically, it doesn't mean he's actually a good candidate."
Alice nodded. "I'll do my best, ma'am."
"Alright, that's it from me, then." She got up from her seat and turned around to leave, but halted in the door. "And, Alice—go home and get some rest." And, perhaps seeing defiance in Alice's face, she added gravely: "That's an order. I'll see you tomorrow."
And then she was gone and Alice was left scowling after her, knowing she had no choice but to follow the direct order, but remained very unhappy about it.