Daughter
Chapter 23 – Candidate
A/N: Wow. Huge thanks for your continued support. The alerts were poppin' off with favorites and follows. -Nerd Alert- I bow to you like a Jaffa would in gratitude. As of this writing, I have a pretty good idea of the journey our heroine will embark upon, with fun twists and turns along the way. It may or may not be what you expect. Still working out the kinks, but stay tuned. For now, please enjoy the comedy and action below. And when I say action… well… you'll see. -Wink Wink-
"What would you do if he ever popped the question?" Vala asked casually as she sat with Carolyn at a coffee shop.
"Huh?" She looked perplexed. "Where did that come from?" She brought her drink up to her mouth to sip from the plastic spout attached to the cup.
"I dunno. Just wondering." Vala sipped from the straw that came with her drink, looking as innocent as she possibly could.
Carolyn raised an eyebrow at her. "You're not asking me," she decided. "You're asking yourself."
Vala blinked. She had years of experience swindling and manipulating. Her skillset was built on a strong foundation of lies and deceit. But this doctor, this deceivingly sweet woman, saw right through her bullshit like a hot knife through butter.
This is why Vala absolutely adored Carolyn.
Vala let out a breath of feigned frustration with her. Vala wasn't worried about offending her, though. Carolyn knew that this was simply part of Vala's daily dramatic foray into the world of acting. A master thief had to keep her skills sharp. The doctor only stared back at her, waiting for her to spill.
"It sounds like he's willing to spend the rest of his life with me," the space pirate now confessed. "And I'm kind of wondering if that would mean anything in particular." She shrugged.
Carolyn considered her. "Would you want him to ask you?"
Vala gazed down at her drink, using the straw to mix it up a bit. "I dunno."
Carolyn smirked. "Yeah. You do."
Her friend sent her a look of irritation. But again, it was fake. "I don't see what difference it would make if he married me."
The doctor merely tilted her head, listening.
When she didn't say anything, Vala felt compelled to fill the void with more words. "He's obviously a faithful, committed sort of person." She slurped her drink loudly. The sound of her anxiousness seemed to reverberate off the coffee shop walls. "Piece of paper with a stamp of approval from the local government wouldn't change anything."
"Uh huh," Carolyn intoned with a knowing expression. "Except the only problem here is you."
"Me?"
"Yes, you. You with your penchant for shiny objects."
Vala adopted a haughty look, tilting her chin up and closing her eyes briefly. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about."
"You want that ring."
Vala sighed and dropped her chin into her hand. "I want a ring." Her voice was laced with a bit of a whine.
"Well, have you two discussed this sort of thing? At all?"
"Errrrr… ahhh… ummm, no?"
Carolyn shook her head at her, amused. "I think you ought to 'talk' with Daniel about this first," Carolyn said while putting up air quotes with her fingers. "You know, try that 'honesty' thing everyone's been talking about."
Vala huffed. "Honesty is soooo hard."
Her friend chuckled. "I'm not saying it would be easy." She leaned forward for dramatic effect. "But when have you ever met a challenge you couldn't meet head-on?" Carolyn tilted her head at her with an encouraging smile.
The raven-haired woman pointed an accusing finger at her. "You know exactly how to manipulate me into talking. Whether it's confession under threat of emotional torture or… or… sending me off to have a serious conversation that I don't want to have, but should." She sucked in a breath as she crossed her arms across her chest. "How do you do that? How."
Carolyn leaned back in her seat, satisfied. She took a deliberately long drink from her coffee. "A magician never shares her secrets." Her eyebrows waggled.
Vala laughed. "No wonder Cameron can't keep his paws off you."
The doctor bit her lip as she smiled.
The pirate leaned forward now and spoke in a conspiratorial tone. "So what would you do if he proposed to you?"
Carolyn could tell Vala was asking a genuine question now. It wasn't a veiled attempt to seek advice this time. She opened her mouth to respond, but no sound came out.
Vala squinted at her, challenging her to answer.
"I haven't thought that far ahead." She could tell her friend didn't believe her. "Honestly. We're so busy that we barely have time to breathe when we're off duty."
Vala swirled the remaining ice cubes still left in her drink. The loud clatter they made only served to add to the confusion swirling in Carolyn's mind. Marriage was the last thing she was really looking for. She had already tried it once. Didn't think she'd want to go back. Not after it had blown up in her face.
"You never did tell me who Mister Lam is."
"Was," Carolyn emphasized.
"Yes, and yet, here you are. Still using his name." Vala tilted up her chin to look at her through the slits of her eyes. She was daring her to come up with a way to sidestep the topic, already certain she was going to win this game. Vala was determined not to lose this time.
Carolyn wouldn't meet her eyes. Instead, she attempted to drink from her coffee cup to serve as a distraction. She was disappointed, however, when nothing flowed through the sipper. She'd just run out. Her eyes flitted back up to Vala, who hadn't stopped staring at her.
She huffed as she watched a couple walk into the coffee shop together. The barista behind the counter greeted them. "It's too much hassle to fix my name." Vala placed her elbow on the table and let her chin drop into her hand, showing Carolyn that she had all of her attention. Now the doctor felt the tables turning on her. "I just reminded you of how busy I am. I wouldn't even know where to start with that sort of paperwork."
"I'm sure I could help, if you wanted."
Carolyn waved a hand at her. "No, no. Don't have to do that." She sighed, tapping her coffee cup on the table absent-mindedly. "I actually was about to try and do it. Change my name back to my maiden name. But then Uncle Jack called me and presented me with this opportunity. My entire career was built upon having the name Lam. I thought maybe it would be less confusing to just let it be."
"Save yourself the inconvenience of having to explain," Vala guessed.
"Right. Exactly. And then I found out my new boss was actually my dad. And at that point I knew I wasn't going to change my name back."
"Because…"
"Because back then we weren't on the best of terms. And the last thing I wanted was to be regarded as someone unqualified who was only there because of nepotism."
"And that's why it took a while for most people on the base to find out who you actually were related to," Vala concluded.
Carolyn nodded emphatically.
"If it's worth any consolation, your little plan worked. Most of the people I spoke to had no idea at first. But by the time they found out, you'd already earned their respect."
The doctor's eyes blinked rapidly at Vala's kind words. It was one thing to hope that you'd done something right. It was quite another to hear feedback saying that you actually did. She pursed her lips in a sort of embarrassed, but thankful expression.
Vala reached out to pat her hand reassuringly. It was her silent 'you're welcome' for Carolyn's quiet 'thank you.'
"And what does Mister Lam have to say about you co-opting his name for the furtherment of your career?" Vala asked cautiously.
Carolyn's expression changed to one without enthusiasm. "I could care less what he thinks."
Vala leaned back. "Youch." She didn't say anything more, simply hoping Carolyn would supply the details she was desperately eager to know.
Her friend knew she wanted to hear them. Had asked her on and off for years. But talking about him meant revisiting certain undesirable experiences she would rather forget.
Vala got the hint. Carolyn wasn't ready. So she wouldn't push it. Instead, she tried diverting her friend's thoughts away from the past and toward the future. Gracie's little bet popped up in the back of her mind. Maybe she could do her daughter a favor. She'd already found her a nice dress to try on, if ever there was a wedding for her to attend.
"If Mitchell did happen to ask you, would you take the opportunity to change your name then?"
Carolyn blinked. "I…" she started but then stopped short. She was weary of placing any sort of expectations on a post-marriage relationship. It decreased her chances of being disappointed. She could be content with whatever companionship she got. And for a while there, she figured Vala was right there with her. But now this pirate was aspiring to become someone's wife and leaving her behind.
Vala raised her eyebrow, waiting.
"Uhh… I don't know actually." She stared at the table, not really focusing on anything in particular. "I guess it would be weird to maintain my ex-husband's last name while being married to someone else. So… yeah, I probably would change my name."
"To his, right?"
"It's what normally happens."
"Normal is just an expectation, not a requirement."
Carolyn somehow found that statement profound. It could be applied to almost any situation.
"I have a feeling Mitchell, or whoever, would very much like it if you accepted their proposal and their name."
"Or whoever?"
Vala put up two palms. "Not trying to pressure you, Darling."
Carolyn adopted a grim look. "Wish you were my mother, then."
The raven-haired woman laughed aloud. "Get in line."
"Darling, what do you know about Carolyn's ex-husband?" Her voice was so casual. So innocent.
Daniel just knew this would be trouble.
He feigned indifference and simply turned the page of the newspaper he was holding up. He raised it a little higher to hide his face better. "Don't really know anything. She used to be married?" he responded nonchalantly.
Vala wouldn't have it. She pulled the paper down to make him look at her. It crinkled loudly with her action. She gave him a warning look from across the small table in his kitchen.
He took in a long breath. "I don't see how it's any of our business."
She got up.
Oh no. But he had just started the article about how the town's local football team had been knocked out of the state championship. He was just dying to know how they could have let this happen.
Vala gingerly pried the newspaper out of his fingers. She neatly folded it and placed it on the table without a word. Daniel stared in trepidation the whole time. When she gently removed his glasses and placed them on the table, he became truly nervous. That was never a good sign. She promised him she'd never break his glasses again. That meant that whatever she was about to do, it couldn't be good.
She maneuvered herself on top of him in the chair, straddling him. Trapping him.
Daniel was doomed.
"What. Do you know," Vala repeated with a tone that belied danger. She ground her hips into him for emphasis.
His body began to respond automatically. "Uhhh…" She wiggled again. Daniel began to sweat. "I know very little."
She didn't believe him. She began nibbling on the skin behind his ear. His eyes closed.
"Honestly. I wasn't even involved in her background check or hiring. That was all Jack. And some other people," he rambled.
She wasn't satisfied with this. Now Vala rubbed her pelvis against him slowly. Methodically. She switched to his other side, biting his earlobe. His mouth dropped open.
"I mean, okay. They might have asked my opinion on a few resumes. I don't really remember reading any of them."
It wasn't enough. She began nipping lightly at his neck, letting hot breaths warm his skin.
For the love of… "Okay, so maybe I did look over Carolyn's file. But it didn't really explain much about who…"
Vala dropped a hot kiss on his mouth. She pulled back as quickly as she'd arrived. Her pelvis started grounding against him with more force.
"…she was. Just that she used to work for the CDC. And before that she was working at a teaching hospital."
Now Vala knew she was getting somewhere with her interrogation. She rewarded him with a massage of his shoulders. His head dropped to her chest as he enjoyed her attention. Daniel's hands grabbed at her hips, encouraging her to keep that pelvis of hers moving.
She stopped momentarily to use one hand to tip his chin up to look at her while the other continued massaging his upper back and neck. Vala tilted her head in amusement at his glassy-eyed stare. His eyes locked onto her tongue as she licked her lips and then bit them gently.
"Her ex-husband worked at the teaching hospital with her," he then said.
"Oh?" Her free hand now reached down to fiddle with the fly of his jeans. Vala's mouth began sucking on his neck.
"Gahhhh yeah. I think they met in medical school."
"Really?" she said in a low voice. It was absolutely arousing, as if Daniel needed any more encouragement. She kissed him on the lips as a reward for this little detail. It was hot. And wet.
"They probably got married while they were still…" Vala's hips did that thing he liked. He regretted that they were still fully clothed. "…residents."
"Any idea why they divorced?" Her breath was hot on his mouth. Their lower halves were moving as one. Her fingers played with the skin just under his waistband.
"That I really don't…"
Vala's fingers invaded lower.
"…know." He groaned. "Fuuuuuuuuuck."
She suddenly stopped, but didn't let go. "Any other details that would be pertinent to share, Darling?" she half-whispered in his ear.
"No, I can't…" Daniel's breath hitched when her fingers twitched. "…think… of anything else."
At this point in the interrogation Vala knew he was being completely open and honest. Daniel couldn't lie for the life of him right now. He'd told her all he knew.
She got up.
He felt the loss of her heat immediately and his eyes shot open.
Vala leaned down to place her face near his. "Thank you, Daniel." She turned around to walk out of the kitchen.
"Hey!"
Vala didn't answer as she disappeared.
He shot out of the chair to chase after her. Daniel captured Vala, flipped her over his shoulder, and carried her down the hall to the bedroom. She didn't bother to protest. He all but threw her onto the bed.
She sat up on her elbows, looking quite amused with him as he stripped down faster than she'd ever seen before. He then moved in to do her the favor of removing her own clothes. She let him.
As he climbed on top of her, he complained, "You are evil."
"I prefer the word 'talented.'"
"Yes. Yes you are," he said in a low voice. His mouth captured hers for a moment. Then it wandered lower.
"You ever heard of an intar, Elda?" Baker asked. They were offworld, geared up as any SG-team normally would be. The area they were in was a training ground. It offered prospective candidates an opportunity to prove themselves worthy of assignment on a team.
"Training weapon," Gracie replied. "Red crystal gives it away as a fake."
"Well, look at you. Okay, you ever used one?"
"If I did would that mean we could skip the lesson?"
Baker's jaw moved side to side. "Answer the question."
She shrugged. "I've used intars that look like hand blasters and staff weapons."
"Alright, I'm not even going to ask. But those are offworld-made weapons. I want you to learn how to use what we got."
Her eyes lit up. "Okay."
He went through the motions of introducing her to a few automatic weapons, including the P-90 that Mitchell had already shown her. Gracie listened attentively as Baker pointed out basic features. He demonstrated a few intar shots on static targets around the training ground.
Baker handed one to her. "Okay, you give it a go."
She carefully received the weapon, testing its weight in her arm. Gracie took aim at a target and fired off a round. It hit its mark.
After what he'd already seen her do, Baker was less than surprised. Maybe he could skip ahead a little bit. "Alright, good enough. Now, the point of us being here is to see how you'd perform in concert with an actual team."
She nodded.
"Where we come from, chain of command is important. For this scenario, I'm in charge. Then it's Crawford. Next Smith. And lastly you."
"Where's Colonel Reynolds?"
"He's busy."
"Doing what?"
"Elda," Baker warned.
She let out a breath. "Okay, okay. What do you want me to do?"
"Follow orders."
"What are the orders?"
"You'll find out as we go."
He turned around to walk toward a rusting drum. She followed. A panel was set into its lid. When Baker flipped the cover, a series of buttons were revealed. He pointed at a worn-out looking manufacturing facility behind him. "In there is a valuable piece of alien technology. Our job is to secure it and high-tail it back to the gate."
Gracie peered over at the building. Her eyes scanned its structure, guessing there were two levels and possibly a hidden sub-level. She saw obvious access points in front and on both sides. If she squinted hard enough, there were stairs just barely visible on one corner, indicating a possible access point on the far side, maybe to the roof. She looked back at Baker. "What's the payday on this tech?"
"What?"
"How much is it worth? That will give an idea of how much risk will be involved in its acquisition."
He squinted his eyes at her with mouth slightly open. "It doesn't matter. The point is to get in, grab it, and get out."
"Well then, how much resistance can we expect? Or is this more of an Indy-thing?"
"An Indy-thing?"
"Indiana Jones? Booby traps and the like?"
"You know about Indiana Jones?"
"Yeah. Dr. Jackson suggested those series of movies to me. Said I might like them."
Now Baker had to ask, even though they were getting off on a real good tangent just about now. "What did you think of 'em?"
"First one was the best one."
He grinned at her. He knew he liked her.
"Sir," Crawford said, stepping up. Smith was following close behind. They were both carrying intar training weapons meant to look like P-90s.
"Nice of you to show up," Baker deadpanned. Now he had to start over with the explanation of their training scenario. He pointed back at the crumbling facility behind him. "Objective is to locate and secure alien tech in that building. Bring it back to the gate. Resistance level is unknown," he said, looking pointedly at Gracie, "but we are to proceed under the assumption that whatever is in there is heavily guarded."
Gracie nodded. "Okay. So people. We might have to shoot at people instead of dodging booby traps." Crawford and Smith glanced between her and Baker.
Baker sighed slightly. "Probably. Be ready for anything." He twisted to hit a button on the panel. Fires began to blaze from gas tubes hidden among the various drums and rubble scattered in front of the facility.
"Oooh, warm and cozy," Gracie commented.
Smith quirked a smile but quickly dropped it when Baker glanced his way.
"Here we go," Baker said, not quite sure what to expect. "Smith, Elda, you two advance together. Take turns with me and Crawford. Let's take cover and wait for my signal."
They nodded. Gracie picked a drum and crouched down next to it. When Baker flicked his hand, she and Smith moved quickly, remaining low. They paused a few feet away behind some rubble. She watched as Smith nodded to his 2IC. Then Baker and Crawford did the same as them, only this time creeping closer to the facility than they had. Gracie decided she understood. She'd observed them do something similar up on the Zershan ship while they were escaping to the shuttle bay.
The group met up at the front entrance to the facility. Baker motioned for Smith and Gracie to watch their backs while he and Crawford moved ahead. She would have preferred not to walk right in through the front door, but held her tongue. She wanted to understand how they thought and why they chose the approaches they did. She figured there must be some good reason behind their actions.
With her fake P-90 at the ready, Gracie's eyes carefully panned the facility as she stepped backwards. She and Smith dutifully followed their teammates deeper and deeper in.
Baker chose a set of metal stairs to use. She wondered if he was pretending to have some intel on the objective's exact location within the facility. If it was all the way up on the next level, Gracie would have snuck up to the roof access instead and then gone down to get it. In her experience there were fewer chances of getting caught and having to engage with local security that way.
She merely went with it. The point was to see how they operated. And she could readily admit she'd never done a job that required more than two people, namely her and her mother. Vala never trusted anyone else enough to bring them into the fold. It limited what jobs they could sign up for. But Gracie's safety was more important than scoring a bigger payday.
Now on the next level, the group split off into pairs, with Smith and Gracie now taking point. Smith had since taken out some sort of hand device and was pointing in the direction of a specific crate. Apparently his job was to examine its contents and decide if whatever was inside would be the thing they were after.
With Baker and Crawford standing guard, Smith opened up the crate. Inside was a box. Gracie didn't recognize it nor could she guess its function. She looked for some indication of what it was but found none. Her eyes darted around as Smith carefully reached in. They should have been met by some resistance by now. It was suspicious. What kind of training scenario was this?
Movement caught her eye on the lower level. Her intar immediately began tracking it. But so far, she remained silent. She wasn't going to shoot indiscriminately at something unless she knew what it was.
Crawford noticed her actions and began aiming his weapon as well. Smith was still carefully pulling the box out and indicating with hand signals to Baker that it was indeed what they came for. The item was large and bulky, leaving him unable to reliably use his weapons. Gracie expected this and drew closer to him to act as his defender while they got out.
Silently, Baker led them away, heading for a side exit instead of going back the way they came. Through the metal grate that made up the floor of their level, Gracie noticed a small animal scurrying about on the level below. But it was too small to match the movement she spied earlier. Her eyes darted around as she backed up, following Smith with her ears more than her eyes.
As Baker reached a ladder that would lead them out, Gracie whispered, "Get down!" She pushed Smith down behind some sort of machinery and began shooting at dark figures creeping along the ceiling platforms. Her intar shots glowed red as they hit targets, three in all. Each resembled a person that fell harmlessly to the level below.
She spun around to check behind her. Her eyes darted up then down. A dark figure seemed to be creeping up behind Baker. She fired a shot that zipped past his head. The force of the charge singed some of his hair. Another fake security guard fell to the ground in a heap. The holographic image blinked randomly, confirming what Gracie suspected. Their resistance was made up of fake images. When she looked, light from outside was reflecting off of holo-emitters placed strategically around the perimeter of the facility's ceiling.
Crawford's jaw dropped as he watched a wisp of smoke emanate from his 2IC's hair. He promptly closed it when Baker glanced his way with a frown on his face.
The group ventured outside, pretending to carefully watch for anyone following. They stopped at the ready line, where surprisingly, Colonel Reynolds was waiting. Smith dropped the bulky box at his feet.
"Colonel," Baker acknowledged, stepping up to his side and turning around to face the others.
"Elda," Reynolds called out with a somewhat flat tone. "What the hell was that?"
She stepped forward. "A poor excuse for an acquisition job." She glanced at Baker, who wasn't very amused. "Not how I would have done it."
"Oh really?" the Colonel replied, hardly impressed.
Gracie could tell he wasn't interested in details of how she would have approached the scenario. She waited for him to speak further.
"She single-handedly shot all the targets, sir," Baker reported.
"Didn't leave any of the fun for me," Crawford pretended to complain.
"Hang on, you knew there were only four?" Gracie was surprised. Baker nodded. "Wouldn't that have been prudent to share before we went in?"
Reynolds and Baker shared a look. The Colonel explained, "It's a training scenario. A very, very simple one."
Gracie tilted her head and squinted her eyes. The way her face crinkled showed she was as unimpressed as the Colonel was. "Sooo… what's next?"
"We're going to try one that's a bit harder."
"Oooh, I know. What about one where we have to rescue someone from a derelict space ship that's leaking fuel and losing altitude? Or… find a way to break out of an Oranian penal colony?" She paused as she tried to think of more scenarios. "Ahh, I've got it. Acquisition again…" Gracie held up a finger before Reynolds could interrupt. "…but this time the objective is deep within the bowels of a space station. And we not only have station security to worry about but also… our competition." She looked at the Colonel with enthusiastic anticipation.
He just stared back at her.
"No? None of those?" Gracie glanced around at SG-3. "Well, what else have you got?"
"An Oranian penal colony?" Jack repeated over the phone.
"Yes, sir," Reynolds confirmed with exasperation.
"I take it we don't have that scenario ready on the offworld training grounds."
"No, sir."
"Sounds like… she might have been talking from experience."
"That's what I was thinking."
"And what's your assessment of her abilities, Colonel?"
"Long story short, she can kick ass."
That's mah girl, Jack thought. His face broke out into a grin, but his voice stayed carefully controlled over the line. "And I take it, you're still interested in adding her to your team?"
"Sir, I don't doubt we could take advantage of her skills while out in the field. I just have reservations about how well she'd be able to follow orders and stick to the plans."
"Were those problems you identified during your evaluation?"
Reynolds was hesitant. "Every scenario we engaged in, she did what was asked of her."
"I'm not seeing the problem, then."
"She did what was asked… but then did other unexpected things. I'm afraid that sort of 'acting without thinking' is gonna backfire. And we'll be the ones paying for it."
Jack rubbed his chin. It sounded like Reynolds was having a hard time separating Elda from the supposed big sister. They had both heard Mitchell's complaints about Vala's behavior in the field, noting she was too quick to overlook protocols. She preferred to reach the objectives of their missions in unconventional ways. Eventually, however, Mitchell learned to just suck it up and go with her antics. He'd even take advantage of them on the fly. They were all still alive. And Mitchell clearly loved her to pieces. Ultimately he just had to figure out how to work with her. That's what it came down to.
Maybe something like that could happen with Gracie and SG-3.
"Do you want her or not?" Jack said, cutting straight to the heart of the matter. "I seem to remember it being your name signed on the bottom of the request." Part of him would have been okay with Reynolds saying no. It would mean Gracie would be placed in much less danger on a day-to-day basis. But another part of him wanted to see just how high his little girl could soar.
"Sir, I'd like more time before making a final decision."
All this dilly-dallying was starting to give Jack a headache. "Colonel, what was the point of the request if you're undecided?"
"I was… encouraged… by General Landry to request that she be evaluated."
"You're pawning off the idea on General Landry?"
Reynolds was quiet for a beat. "He ordered me to consider it. The request in front of you is a formality to ensure Elda has the proper permissions to even be at our offworld training ground."
Jack could have groaned. Paperwork. Protocols. Bureaucracy. It could all go to Hell. "Alright, Colonel. Evaluate away. But don't take too long. She doesn't deserve to be hanging in limbo forever. And you and your team have a schedule to resume."
"Yes, sir. Understood, sir."
"Malcolm, I heard you could use some help," Sam said as she stepped through the gate. She was dressed in full offworld gear, complete with an SG-1 patch to show she was an original member of the elite team.
"Sam," Reynolds greeted her with welcome. He eagerly shook hands with her. "How's the little girl?"
She grinned. "Oh, she's great. Growing nonstop. Making Jack pull all his hair out."
He chuckled as he motioned for her to follow him over to the main bunker. "Yeah, I bet he's loving all the sleepless nights."
She frowned momentarily. "You hit the nail on the head."
Reynolds opened the door and let Sam through first. They found their way to some private meeting rooms, barely bigger than closets, so they could discuss matters privately.
"Who watches her when both of you gotta work?" he said as they took seats across from each other at a small table.
"There's a daycare in the Pentagon."
"Ahh, got it. What about when you're both over by the SGC?"
She blew out a breath. "That's a little tougher. It ends up being Vala or Carolyn. Depending on who isn't busy offworld themselves."
"Geez. I don't miss those days, struggling to find a sitter. Wife could only take so much on her own when the kids were little. And I was always half-way across the galaxy." He looked up, pretending to survey the small room they were in. "I'm still always half-way to bufu and back."
"Yah." She shook her head a bit then smiled at him. "What about you? Heard you've got yourself a bit of a babysitting challenge here."
"If you call watching a grown woman defeat all of our training scenarios, then sure, it's babysitting," he groused.
Sam laughed. "You're joking." She pretended to be incredulous, but in truth, she was the proudest Mama Bear one would ever lay eyes on.
Reynolds leaned forward and dropped his voice for emphasis. "Seriously. How the hell does anyone as young as her get that good?"
Sam leaned in now, too, matching his lowered volume. "She's been training her whole life."
He sat back. "I don't get it, Sam. Where did she even come from?" He seemed genuinely confused. "Vala never mentioned any family. Ever."
"You really think she would have brought anyone up, though? Come on. It's Vala. We didn't even know who her father was until he showed up at our doorstep."
"Yeah, well…" He didn't have much of an argument there.
Sam had a feeling part of this offworld trip was going to be more than just helping Reynolds challenge Gracie. She was going to have to reinforce her daughter's cover. Now she felt even more glad she was here. If Reynolds was asking questions, then surely, lots of others might be, too.
"So why now, Sam?" At her questioning look, he clarified, "Why did Vala decide to bring her 'round, now?"
Sam bit her cheeks and pursed her lips. "Elda reached out when things got a bit hot."
"Hot? Like what… a job gone wrong? Another intergalactic bounty?"
Sam became hesitant. She had to spin this in a way that used actual truths in a misleading way. Easier to keep the stories straight when nothing said was technically a lie. Too many people were read into Gracie's situation. There were too many opportunities for her cover to get blown. She tried to imagine how Vala would have done this. "Something like that. She had Goa'uld on her trail for a long time."
"I heard your husband and Dr. Jackson were the ones to actually pick her up."
Shit. "Yeah, they did. Elda was calling for help around the same time Vala was offworld protecting Gracie. I was on Atlantis… I can't speak to how that all went down. She was already in the SGC by the time I came back." Reynolds gave her a dubious look. "Look, Malcolm, it's a touchy subject. There's a lot of… trauma… involved. At this point, we should just discuss why I'm here."
He tilted his head one side to the other, frowning apologetically. It was his fault they'd gone off on a tangent. She was a Colonel in the U.S. Air Force. He needed to respect her time. "Alright, sorry, let's get down to business."
She nodded to accept his apology. "So? Tell me how Elda's been doing. And then I'll give you some ideas of how to test her limits."
He smiled at Sam's willingness to do this. There was a reason he had called her. SG-1 was number one at training.
Gracie groaned as she pulled on both of Baker's arms to drag him across the floor. "Ugh. Do you really have to be dead weight!"
"I'm supposed to be unconscious, remember?" he said quietly.
She barely heard him. Around them, the sounds of mini-explosions and gunfire invaded their ears. They were currently staying low in a smoke-filled corridor, attempting to steer clear of the enemy. Gracie found an open doorway and dropped Baker's limbs to peek through it, intar P-90 at the ready. When she saw that the room was clear, she resumed her laborious effort to get him to temporary safety.
Gracie briefly checked the hall, seeing that it was devoid of people. She had lost the fake Jaffa guards for now. She knelt down next to Baker inside the room, going through the motions of packing his supposed gunshot wound with gauze and applying an adhesive dressing. If he were truly bleeding, the dressing wouldn't hold for long. The time she spent playing pretend was necessary to simulate what would really be happening out in the field.
Now that one task was met, she needed to complete her other time-sensitive task. Gracie carefully peered out into the hall. She ducked back into the room immediately when she sensed movement. She took in a breath to steel herself. Then she rushed out into the hallway, firing shots in the direction of the Jaffa enemy warriors that were after them in this rusted-out facility.
The corridor was zig-zagged, offering her opponents multiple places to take cover and defend their positions. Unfortunately, her next objective was behind them. Gracie systematically fired at her targets, red intar shots spreading through their holographic images and dispersing them within the clouds of smoke. Beads of sweat poured down her brow. This was taking far too long. She knew she was running out of time. She tried to time her shots to land when she anticipated opponents peeking out to fire.
Once through this small group she reached a large hall. In its center was a circular platform. Atop it was a Goa'uld naquedah bomb. Her mother had taught her how to disarm these things, but the process required time and attention. On top of that, she would be exposed to enemy fire by venturing closer.
Instead of heading straight for it, which would have been stupid, Gracie hugged the perimeter of the smoke-filled hall. She searched for opponents standing guard, silently shooting at anything that moved. She was confident there were no small animals here to distract her. Every target was instead big and dangerous. Supposedly.
Why they had Jaffa guarding an active bomb was a mystery to her.
She checked her watch. By now she had learned how to tell time the Earth way. She knew she had twelve minutes left. It would take up to seven to disarm it. Gracie moved quickly. She approached the platform and circled it, checking for booby traps that would delay her progress further. Satisfied that none were present, she stepped up. She drew a knife and carefully inserted it into the space between the lid and the box. With much care, she let the knife slide across. If there were any triggers linked to the opening of the lid, the blunt side of her blade would run into them and prevent her from making a fatal mistake. This would force her to approach the inside of the bomb from another angle. Luckily this time, there was no such trigger.
She opened the box and began fiddling with the components inside.
Meanwhile, back in the main bunker, Sam was watching on the camera feeds. She glanced at Baker on another monitor. He had folded his arms behind his head as he laid on the floor. He looked like he was taking a nap. She spied Crawford and Smith, supposedly locked out of the facility. They should have been pretending to get inside to help, but instead were sitting against the outside of the building, casually talking. Clearly, the three men were bored. They'd run through this training scenario at least twice already.
Sam heard a door open and shut behind her. "How's she doin'?" Reynolds asked. He stepped up next to her with a thermos in hand.
"She made better time this go, but still cutting it close."
"If she doesn't get past this one, I say we call it."
"Yeah, she could use a break."
"I could use lunch."
Sam smiled sideways at him.
Reynolds leaned down toward the tech who was manning the controls for the training scenario. "Throw a few more Jaffa in there."
"You want her to succeed or fail?" Sam wondered.
As Sam spoke, the tech was complying with the command, programming a handful of holographic Jaffa to approach Gracie's location.
Reynolds sipped from his thermos. "She could probably disarm the bomb in time. Let's see what happens if she has to disarm a bomb under enemy fire."
"I have a feeling most Jaffa wouldn't shoot toward a naquedah bomb while they're in range of its explosion, Malcolm."
"Yeah, well, not every Jaffa is as smart as the rest."
Sam shook her head as she watched Gracie's eyes dart up on the monitors.
Back in the hall, her daughter's hands were busy with the bomb. It was the sound of boots approaching that told her they were coming. "Aww shit," she muttered. She quickly glanced at the door, then back down at the components of the device she was still taking apart systematically. Her eyes took stock of the connections yet to be severed. If she didn't do this carefully and in the right order, the bomb would blow up immediately.
The boots grew louder.
Gracie knew it would be useless to stop and fight off potential attackers. The bomb would detonate before she was done defending her position. And their shots in her direction could easily trigger the bomb as well. She tried to think of how she would react in this clearly impossible scenario. If those were real Jaffa, she could just tell them there was a bomb about to detonate. If this were real life, she never would have allowed herself to end up here in the first place!
So. What was one to do about this? Was this one of those unwinnable situations that Reynolds described, where no solution was the right one and sometimes you just ended up dead?
Gracie certainly didn't want to be dead, hypothetically or otherwise.
She made a snap decision. She would let the bomb explode. Baker might be far enough away to survive. If she could get to him, she could find a way to keep him from being completely buried in rubble. Meanwhile, her approaching Jaffa attackers would be killed in the explosion. Her work would be done for her.
Gracie took a quick look at the timer counting down in Goa'uld. Then she hopped off the platform.
"Hmm," Reynolds intoned from the bunker as he watched her.
"Oh boy," Sam mumbled.
They both expected her to unbuckle her intar P-90 and begin aiming in the direction of the door. But Gracie did no such thing. She completely ignored the oncoming Jaffa and found a place to scale the wall. There were plenty of leftover divots in the concrete from previous training runs that she could use as hand- and foot-holds. The two Colonels, each from a different branch of the U.S. military, raised their brows.
"What is she doing?" Reynolds asked suspiciously.
Sam shook her head, unsure of the answer herself.
The cameras lost her as Gracie made it up to the top of the walls of the training facility. Beyond the fake walls separating the space into a maze was an open upper portion. All of the rigs for the cameras, speakers, and projectors were set up there. The holographic Jaffa entered the hall with staff weapons raised. They scattered about the room in search of her, finding nothing but a ticking bomb.
Gracie suddenly dropped into sight on the monitor covering Baker. They watched as his head popped up in surprise.
"Where the hell did you come from?"
"Aren't you supposed to be bleeding out?" Gracie grumbled as she scanned the room. She began pulling on fiberglass pillars serving as decoration for a fake Goa'uld throne room. She easily rearranged them in a tee-pee formation, assuming that the cone shape of the structure and the strength of the material might possibly hold in the event of a real detonation. She imagined it would make a great place for a slumber party, too, having learned that concept from her father. She left an opening for her and Baker to get in. She then slid over a heavy box, ordained in intricate carvings that she knew were just gold paint.
She went to Baker and sighed. He was still laying on the floor, although his eyes were wide open watching her. Gracie bent down to grab his arms again and pull. With some effort, she maneuvered him into her makeshift hidey-hole. Then she grunted as she pulled the box in front of them to cover the opening.
Gracie squat down and peered at the LED display on her standard-issue watch. She had just seconds left.
The timer went off.
"Boom," Baker deadpanned.
She glared at him, unamused.
"So what was that?" Baker asked, now sitting up and looking around.
"That was me deciding to save you and let the bomb simply go off. There was no point disarming it when I had more enemy fire about to bear down on my position. Plus the supposedly valuable naquedah we could have acquired from that defused bomb wasn't worth all this trouble. I could name you five other places that are much less hassle than this," she complained.
His eyes narrowed at her in exasperation. "So you purposely ignored one of the objectives?"
Gracie rolled her eyes. "I could have ignored you instead." She let her mouth twist into knots in annoyance. "Of course, I'm sure you would have protested if you were conscious enough." She glared at him. "Were you taking a nap?"
He opened his mouth indignantly.
But before he could answer, Reynolds sounded off on their radios. "Report back to the ready line."
Baker leaned his head down toward the radio clipped to his vest. His hand reached up to activate it. "Copy."
Gracie placed her hands on the heavy box serving as their door and looked back at him. "Help me move this thing."
"You're the one who put it there."
"Yes, and now you are alive, thanks to me. The least you could do in gratitude is put those gigantic muscles of yours to good use."
Baker rolled his eyes but helped her push the box out of their way anyway. It slid outward easily.
Gracie considered him. "I might have to give you a new name, now." She would have picked 'Muscles,' but that one was taken already.
He glared at her as they began walking out. "Don't even think about it."
"Too late. Already am."
Baker took in a long breath and let out a sigh. Once outside, Reynolds was waiting with Crawford and Smith. He was glowering impatiently as they casually exited the building.
"Elda… I don't even know what to say this time."
"Say you want lunch. Because I'm starving," she answered. She stepped up to him with eyes squinting from the bright sun. The immediate onslaught of light was painful after spending extended time in a darkened, smoke-filled training facility.
Crawford and Smith stifled laughs from behind Reynolds.
"Why'd you let the bomb go off?"
"I had to make a choice," Elda explained. "It was either die fending off oncoming combatants or die when they shot me as I desperately attempted to disarm it. Neither of those options was very appealing. So I made myself a third option."
"A third option?"
"Yes. I climbed up and scurried across the top of the walls… which suggests a multitude of security holes for your little training facility, by the way. I simply took a shortcut to get to my other lovely objective here." She held up a flippant hand at Baker next to her. "Sleepyhead." She'd also learned that one from her father. He used it to refer to her little sister every time she fell asleep, which seemed quite appropriate.
Reynolds cracked a smile.
Crawford and Smith both began to shudder with silent laughter.
Baker scowled at them all.
His CO let go of his amusement to address her again. "You cheated," he declared in a flat tone.
"I would rather refer to that as 'being creative.' That scenario was all kinds of wrong. No Jaffa in their right minds would approach a known, active Goa'uld naquedah bomb. The smarter idea would be to let whoever they wanted to kill die when it explodes." She tilted her head. "I think I've heard someone say, 'path of least resistance.' Sounds like this was a fitting time to apply the concept."
"Are you fucking kidding me, Elda?"
"No. There was absolutely zero resistance up on the top of the walls. So I chose that path…" she said with a small smile, sweeping her hand across the air.
From behind their CO, Crawford and Smith covered their faces. Their mouths were snapped shut, desperate not to let any sounds of laughter out.
Reynolds just stared at her again. He could easily start yelling. But it wouldn't do anyone any good. Elda wasn't military. She wasn't from Earth. She wasn't even the least bit intimidated by him. Or any of them. Treating her like an overenthusiastic drill instructor in marine boot camp would be pointless. Raising his voice would do nothing.
He blinked once. He briefly closed his eyes and shook his head. When he reopened them, Elda was simply waiting. God help him. Despite her unconventional approaches and the inevitable migraines she would offer him, she was too damn good to pass up for the team. She could think her way in, out, and through a scenario and still find a way to skim off the top. She could have her cake and eat it, too!
"How 'bout some grub?" Reynolds said, changing tracks.
Elda raised her brow, not understanding his meaning.
Baker lightly patted her on the back. "He means lunch."
"Ooh! Finally."
Reynolds clenched his jaw momentarily. "Dismissed."
Crawford and Smith took that as their cue to relax and invite Elda along with them. They brushed shoulders with her as they left, laughing about her Sleepyhead joke aimed at Baker and just about everything else she had said so innocently that tickled them to no end.
Their second-in-command was about to follow when Reynolds stopped him with a palm held up. "Sir?"
"We're so fucking screwed, Baker." Reynolds let his eyes roam, not really focusing on anything as he griped.
His 2IC pursed his lips, smiling slightly at his commanding officer. "She's hired, isn't she?"
"Goddammit," Reynolds complained.
Baker laughed now.