A Matter of Honor Page 12

  A glimmer of disquiet passed over O'Neill's face; it was the equivalent of an emotional storm in most other Tauri. "I'm just surprised. He, uh, seemed like a nice guy. You know, not that we saw a whole lot of him." Kenna's eyes narrowed suspiciously, and O'Neill cleared his throat. "Well, now that's cleared up, we'll be heading home. Okay?"

  Still reeling, Damaris fumbled for an objection. In the end, all she could muster was, "Vow do you understand what we face?"

  "Understand what?" the colonel asked. "That you have enemies? We all have enemies, Councilor."

  "And we all do what we must to protect our people from them, do we not?"

  "Within reason."

  "Reason?" The councilor's smile spoke of shock and desperation as she waved her hand around the devastated `gate room. "Where is the reason in this?"

  There was a long pause and Teal'c could sense a shift in O'Neill's demeanor. When the colonel spoke again his voice was kinder. "The trick is, Councilor, to defeat the enemy without getting down and wrestling in the mud with them."

  Her lips pressed into a defiant line. "We do what we must."

  "Yeah." Slowly he bent down and helped Daniel to his feet. "Hope that works out for you."

  Then heturned andfixed Teal'cwith asteady look. Go! Teal'c had no hesitation in following the silent order. The deadweight of Major Carter was beginning to tax even his strength, and the increasingly bluish tint to her lips was perturbing. With a slight bow to the Kinahhi Councilor, he turned and stepped into the fierce embrace of the wormhole, glad to shake the dust of Kinahhi from his feet. Forever, he hoped.

  Lieutenant James glanced up briefly, hands poised over the `gate controls. "Sir, it's SG-1's IDC."

  At last! But Hammond's relief was tinged with apprehension. "Open the iris." Like a camera shutter, the titanium shield twirled back to reveal the iridescent glimmer of the event horizon, rippling gently and expectantly. The general held himself still, waiting. He'd ordered Crawford to ensure that SG-1 get in touch, and to his surprise it seemed that the man had followed his orders - although the delay between the `gate opening and the transmission of SG-1's IDC remained unexplained. Bracing himself, Hammond lifted his gaze to the video screen, hoping to see O'Neill's face appear at any moment.

  Instead, Lieutenant James sucked in a quiet breath. "Sir."

  The wormhole shivered and Teal'c stepped out, Major Carter's limp form in his arms. Hammond grabbed the intercom, heart plummeting. "Medical teams to the `gate room, now!" Then he turned and bolted down the stairs.

  By the time he reached the foot of the Stargate, Teal'c had laid his unconscious friend on the ramp and O'Neill was lowering a woozy Dr Jackson down at her side. They all looked battle-damaged. "What the hell happened?"

  O'Neill grunted. "Got caught up in some local politics, sir."

  Behind him Hammond heard medical personnel pour into the room, clattering gurneys in their wake. The diminutive figure of Doctor Janet Fraiser pushed her way past him and onto the ramp. She crouched at Carter's side, checking her pulse, peering into her eyes. "Did she take a hit?"

  "Bomb blast," O'Neill replied. "Close quarters."

  She glanced over her shoulder and barked, "Get her down to the infirmary ."

  Stepping over the major, Fraiser knelt in front of Daniel. "Hey," she said, fishing a penlight out of her pocket and checking his pupil reflexes. "Do you know where you are?"

  "About five minutes away from a morphine shot?"

  She smiled and stood up. "Two, if you're good."

  Gurneys trundled to the foot of the ramp and Carter and Jackson were whisked away, Fraiser trotting ahead and issuing orders until the closing blast doors cut off the sound of her voice. Behind Hammond the wormhole collapsed in on itself, and suddenly all in the `gate room was silent.

  Slowly O'Neill rose, and he and Teal'c trudged off the end of the ramp. The colonel looked troubled, and not just because his team had gotten hurt. Which provoked a question in Hammond's mind. "Where's Crawford?"

  O'Neill shook his head and snatched off his cap, dislodging a small cloud of dust. "Still negotiating." He paused for a beat, dark eyes serious. "Sir, we need to talk."

  Not liking the sound of that one bit, Hammond simply nodded. "Hit the showers, Colonel. Debrief in an hour."

  As O'Neill and Teal'c trailed wearily out, Hammond glanced up at the control room. He thought he could feel the eyes of Senator Kinsey boring into him, but only Lieutenant James was up there quietly going about his business.

  Shaking it off, the general followed his team from the room and tried to imagine what kind of trouble SG-1 had gotten themselves into this time.

  The water was hot, blasting off the grime that caked his hair and skin, easing the stiffness in his neck. Jack figured he must have landed badly when the blast had thrown him back; it felt like a distinct case of whiplash. But the hot water helped. He stood for a good ten minutes, letting it pound his aching muscles, while he ferreted through his mind and tried to sort out the confusing events of the past twelve hours. Top of the urgent list was the matter of what, exactly, he was going to tell Hammond.

  The documents -he'd had a brief look and they appeared to be blueprints - were still concealed inside the Mainstay wrapper and secured in his locker. They sat there, evidence of his guilt, and he had half a mind to bum them.

  Quadesh had detonated the bomb, despite swearing he wasn't involved with the terrorists. Jack had been suckered in like an old fish who should have known better. He'd taken the bait because he'd wanted to believe Quadesh. He'd needed to believe the councilor wasn't involved so he could let himself accept the stolen plans.

  But if he kept them now, wouldn't it be tantamount to being in league with the terrorists? The woman and her child were vivid in his memory; he refused to be part of that. Ever. But if he destroyed them, he'd be abandoning Boyd. Again. And no one gets left behind. Ever.

  He let his forehead come to rest against the cool, white shower tiles. There's no such thing as a free lunch. The cliche ran thinly through his mind and brought a grim smile. He should have known better. He should have damn-well known better! People don't just walk up to you and give you exactly what you're looking for out of the goodness of their hearts. There's always a price to pay. In this case, he was afraid it might just be his soul.

  "O'Neill? General Hammond requires us at the briefing in less than twenty minutes."

  Teal'c's call roused him from his contemplation. He grabbed his towel and started to dry off. By the time he emerged into the cool air of the locker-room, Teal'c was already dressed.

  Jack reached for a clean T-shirt. "I'm gonna stop by the infirmary on my way."

  Inclining his head, Teal'c sat back on the bench and waited. Obviously he intended to tag along. While Jack dressed he could feel his friend watching him. He ignored him for as long as he could, pulling on his pants and standing to reach into his locker and stuff the Mainstay wrapper into his pocket. But Teal'c's gaze didn't budge, and at last Jack was forced to turn and face him. "What?"

  The eyebrow rose. "You appear distracted, O'Neill."

  He sat and pulled on his boots. "I do?"

  "Ever since our visit to Baal's palace." There was a pause, and Jack hoped his friend had gotten hold of the wrong end of the stick. "Something occurred there that disturbed you."

  He concentrated on pulling his laces tight. "You mean other than the creepy guys that attacked Carter and me?"

  "I do."

  Damn him. Jack glanced up, toying with the truth. If he told Teal'c, he'd have to tell the rest of his team. And then they'd all be part of the lie, because he knew hell would freeze over before they ever breathed a word to Hammond, or anyone else, of what he'd done. When the proverbial hit the fan, they'd all be caught in the stink. However, if he kept the secret to himself he kept the blame to himself. And so with a small shrug he said, "I guess it creeped me out. You know... Baal."

  Teal'c's cocked eyebrow screamed disbelief, but Jack refused to be drawn out. He'd made h
is decision. He was keeping the plans, and he was keeping them to himself. For now.

  He stood and slung on a shirt. Blue today, just for a change. "I'm going to check on Carter and Daniel."

  "I shall accompany you."

  As they walked together along the corridor, Jack was struck by the obvious hole in his own logic. Protecting his team from the consequences of his decision was all well and good, but without Carter, who the hell was going to make sense of the plans?

  By the time Daniel made it to the briefing, Hammond was on his feet and in full swing. Jack sat rigid, hands folded on the table, lips pressed into a tight line, while Teal' c watched them both with silent fascination. None of them heard Daniel's polite knock on the open door.

  "Arrested?" the general exclaimed. "Colonel, are you telling me the Kinahhi ejected you from their planet?"

  Jack grimaced. "Well, not exactly ejected so much as reluctantly allowed us to-" He stopped when his eyes landed on Daniel, eyebrows climbing. "Daniel? Does the word `rest' mean nothing to you?"

  Hammond's head snapped around, and even Teal'c turned so that he could stare at the newcomer. Daniel offered a weak smile. "I persuaded Janet to let me, uh, take a walk. General, I really need to discuss the Kinahhi technology with you because-"

  "Already covered it, Daniel." Jack was tetchy, tapping his pen on the tabletop in a short, staccato pattern. "Now, go and lie down before you-

  "No." Daniel moved into the room and pulled out the chair next to Teal'c. He sank into it quickly, before his knees could give way. "Jack, I know you don't want to break off relations with the Kinahhi, but we can't let Kinsey-"

  "Easy son." Hammond took his seat again with a quick, curious glance at Jack. "Colonel O'Neill's already told me about the technology under negotiation. And I agree with him that it-"

  "No!" Daniel objected again. "I'm sorry, General, but if we let Kinsey get his hands on it he'll use it to...to...to destroy everything we stand for! Our rights to-"

  "Doctor Jackson!" Hammond's voice cut right across him, as soft and strong as silk. "I agree with Colonel O'Neill's suggestion that we break off negotiations with the Kinahhi, but-"

  "But you-" Wait. Break off negotiations? He glanced at Jack and received a `now-do-you-believe-me?' smirk in return. "Oh."

  Hammond smiled slightly, but there was little pleasure in it. "However, I have to tell you, I have no influence over Senator Kinsey. This is his project."

  Looking between the two men, both grim and resigned, Daniel felt his heart sink. "We can't just let him get away with this. Jack, you know how important this is..."

  Jack made a face, as if his conscience had been pricked, and turned to Hammond. "What if we designated their planet as hostile? Seemed hostile to me."

  The general shook his head. "With Crawford still there, Kinsey won't buy that. In fact, he's more likely to order an investigation into the reasons for your team's arrest, Colonel."

  Clearing his throat, Jack cast half a glance at Teal'c, who remained pokerfaced. Daniel suspected that their attempt to bring home the anti-gravity technology hadn't been mentioned. He sighed and Jack slumped in his chair, the heels of his hands pressing into his eyes. They were both exhausted - neither had slept for a good twenty-four hours. And thanks to Janet's miracle drugs there was too much cotton wool in his brain for Daniel to think clearly. But he knew there had to be a way. There had to be something they could do to keep Kinsey's paws off the Kinahhi's 1984 technology. "What about the President?" he suggested at last.

  O'Neill's hands dropped from his face, faintly hopeful. "Go over Kinsey's head, sir?"

  "I can try," Hammond offered, although there was doubt in his voice. "But with the election coming up the President has more pressing concerns."

  Snorting in disgust, Daniel ignored his headache and sat forward. "More pressing than the potential destruction of our civil liberties? If Kinsey gets this technology we-"

  "Think about this, son," the general suggested. "If the President loses the election to Hayes, Kinsey will become Vice President. What'll that mean for our civil liberties?"

  It didn't bear thinking about. Letting his aching head drop into his hands, Daniel felt the stirrings of despair in his chest. Kinsey as Vice President? Good God...

  Across the table Jack's chair pushed back, the soft brush over carpet the only sound in the pensive room. "Yeah, well," he said defiantly, "that's never gonna happen."

  Daniel closed his eyes and mentally crossed his fingers. Kinsey in the White House? He'd rather see Anubis in the Oval Office.

  CHAPTER TEN

  he next morning Sam awoke to the noisy clatter of the infirmary, at least three hours earlier than she would have if Janet had let her go home. But when she'd suggested the idea the night before, the doctor's eyes had narrowed and she'd rattled off a litany of injuries. The only one Sam could remember was `possible concussion'. But long experience had taught her that arguing with Janet Fraiser was pointless, so she hadn't even tried.

  Daniel, however, clearly possessed talents she lacked because he'd managed to sweet talk his way out long before lights-out, and he hadn't come back. Levering herself upright, Sam ignored the sudden sway of vertigo and put a hand to the bruise on the back of her head. It hurt! Her face felt tight too, and her roving fingers found a neat little row of stitches near the hairline close to her left ear. Other than that, she felt pretty good. Too good to waste time in bed. Pulling back the bedcovers she looked around to see if her uniform was anywhere in sight.

  "Oh, no you don't." Dr Janet Fraiser strode into view, her shoes click-clicking on the vinyl floor.

  Sam grimaced. "I feel fine."

  "Uh-huh," Fraiser nodded. "Lie down."

  Knowing resistance was pointless, Sam did as she was told. "Really, Janet," she protested, "I feel fine. Great!"

  The doctor produced her ubiquitous penlight. "That's what you all say." The bright light flashed into Sam's eyes. "Any nausea? Headache?"

  "No," Sam assured her. And when Janet fixed her with a searching look she added, "Really! Actually, I'm a little hungry."

  Slipping the penlight back into her pocket, Janet stepped back and cocked an eyebrow. "Okay, Sam. Go get some breakfast. I want you back in two hours, though, for a follow-up CAT scan. There's no fracture, but you took a nasty blow yesterday. I just want to make sure it's not a concussion. Okay?"

  Sam smiled, sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "Okay. Thanks, Janet."

  Her feet hadn't even touched the ground before the doctor added, "And you're officially off-duty. Make sure you tell Colonel O'Neill."

  "The colonel? Why?"

  "Make sure you tell him," Janet insisted, waving vaguely toward the door. "He's been... hovering." The doctor lifted an eyebrow and Sam found herself studying the weave of the hospital blanket. Hovering? "Didn't say why, exactly - but I don't want you working until I've had another look at your head. Okay?"

  She nodded, although her mind was drifting back to the Kinahhi plaza. The colonel was hiding something, she remembered. Question was, would he tell her what? And if not, could she ask? Dared she?

  By the time she'd showered and changed, her stomach was growling, and she decided to satisfy her hunger before her curiosity. She opted for pancakes in the commissary and all but swallowed them whole. Still hungry, she grabbed a Danish on the way out and headed back to her lab. There were one or two results she wanted to check on, and despite Janet's warning she doubted it would aggravate the gooseegg on the back of her head.

  When she opened the door to her lab, she was greeted by the slightly stale air of a few days' disuse. It was the familiar, reassuring scent of homecoming and she relished it. Danish in one hand, she pulled out the relevant files and had just dropped them onto her workbench when a familiar voice spoke from the doorway, "I thought Fraiser said no working, Carter."

  She glanced up with a smile as the colonel sauntered into her lab. Hands thrust into his pockets he looked pensive, and the half-smile he briefly o
ffered was uncomfortable. Maybe he still hadn't forgiven her for hiding Baal's ancient link to the Kinahhi? Her own smile faded. "Something I can help you with, sir?"

  At first he didn't say anything, just paced the short length of the room and back before quietly closing the door and turning to lean against it. "Best guess," he said after a long moment. "From what you saw in the floating city, what are the odds of you being able to come up with something to bring Boyd's team home?"

  "From what I saw? Not good, sir. I really didn't have time to see much at all. I couldn't even begin to try and replicate it without more information or-"

  "What if you had it?"

  Her eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

  "What if you had more information?" His face was set, deadpan. "What if you had blueprints?"

  Holy crap! She vividly remembered him snatching up the old Mainstay wrapper from their jumbled kit after they'd been searched. "Sir, do you have them?"

  "Answer the question, Carter. What are the odds?"

  She shook her head. "Unless I saw the schematics I couldn't say. Maybe. But we'd have to generate a hell of a lot of power, sir."

  "But is it possible?"

  "I'm sorry, Colonel. I just don't know. It might be. It might not." He said nothing, his eyes fixed on her as if trying to see into her mind and read the answer there. Good luck to him. "Sir? Do you have the plans? The ones Councilor Damaris said had gone missing?" And how the hell had he gotten hold of them?

  At last the colonel looked away, brow furrowing as he pushed away from the door. One hand withdrew from a pocket, long fingers clutching the Mainstay wrapper. So she'd been right!

  He glanced up from under his eyebrows and dropped the wrapper onto the workbench. "No one knows about this," he said. "And neither would you, if I had a choice. But you're the only one who has a chance of making sense of it."

  Sam reached across the bench, but as her fingers touched the foil his hand closed over hers. "If you open it, then you know. You don't have to, this isn't an order. It's not even official. It's your choice, Carter."