A Matter of Honor Page 13

  Her choice? Hardly. "If there's a chance I can save Henry Boyd and his team, sir, I'm not going to ignore it. There is no choice."

  A flash of something lit up his eyes. Understanding, perhaps? Or regret. But he lifted his hand and nodded. Picking up the wrapper, Sam reached inside and pulled out the wadded documents. The paper - if that was the right word - was tissue-thin, but strong. Undamaged, the plans rolled open on her desk. The language and markings were obscure, but it was unmistakably a blueprint. She looked up. "I'll need Daniel to help translate the specs and-" The colonel was already shaking his head. "What?" she asked.

  "Need to know, Carter. The fewer people who know, the better."

  Sam nodded slowly, smoothing out the blueprints. "You don't want Daniel or Teal'c to know?"

  "The plans are stolen, Carter."

  He didn't need to say more. If the truth came out they'd both be facing a dishonorable discharge, perhaps worse. And if Daniel and Teal'c knew... "You want to protect them." She hadn't missed the irony.

  But he obviously had. "I wouldn't have told you unless I had to."

  She smiled and shook her head. "You don't think they'd want to help?"

  "Oh, I know they would. Point is-"

  "Point is, it's okay for you to protect us but not for us to protect you, right?" She couldn't help herself, and it was worth risking his anger to see those eyebrows climb in astonishment.

  "Excuse me?"

  "I said-"

  "I heard what you said." The eyebrows contracted back into a frown. "And it's a completely different situation."

  "Is it?"

  "I'm in command" He fixed her with a weighty look. "That's the difference, Carter. It's my call. My responsibility. Always."

  Lowering her eyes, she gazed at the spidery drawings in front of her. "Not this time, sir. My choice, remember? This isn't official." He said nothing and she looked back up. "We need Daniel's help."

  Irritably, he shoved his hands back into his pockets. "And if I tell him, he'll have no choice either will he? He couldn't refuse, anymore than you could."

  "Or you," she pointed out. And from his mild look of surprise she gathered that he hadn't considered that before. "It's a matter of honor, sir. For all of us."

  There was a slight pause - she could see him weighing her words -before he gruntedhis reluctant agreement. "I'll go find Daniel." Turning, he opened the door. Then stopped, his fingers tapping an uncertain pattern against the handle. "Carter?"

  "Sir?"

  "I understand why you didn't tell me about Baal." She winced; the less said about that the better. But he wasn't finished. "I appreciate it, but it can't happen again."

  "It won't," she promised. "I'm sorry, sir."

  He nodded slightly. "Me too."

  And then he was gone, leaving her alone with the strange Kinahhi plans and a whole new conundrum to drive away the more perplexing problems of her life.

  "Okay," Daniel said, pacing across his office, "let me get this straight. Councilor Quadesh followed us to Tsapan, cornered you behind a pillar, and gave you the plans to the anti-gravity technology? Just like that?"

  Jack sat sprawled in a low chair, flicking sightlessly through one of the many books cluttering Daniel's office. He glanced up, annoyed by the skeptical tone. "Something like that."

  "And you didn't tell us?"

  "I'm telling you now."

  Daniel stopped, cocked an eyebrow, and added, "Don't you think that's a little... convenient?"

  "He wanted a favor."

  "A favor?" Carter lifted her nose from the blueprints she was studying, like a tiger scenting prey. "What favor?"

  "He wanted me to raise the concerns of the dissidents with Hammond." Jack snapped shut the dull tome with a loud thud. "Obviously, it'll be a cold day in hell before that happens."

  Eyes dancing between Carter and Jack, Daniel frowned. "Ah, why not?"

  "Are you kidding?"

  "No. Why not raise the concerns of the dissidents? Given what Quadesh told you-"

  "Quadesh blew up the damn government, Daniel!" Good God, was there no cause the man wouldn't champion? "He was a terrorist. You saw what he did."

  Daniel's face flattened and sobered. He nodded. "I saw, Jack. But if it's true that people disappear just for holding the wrong opinion..."

  ` If it's true."

  There was never any black and white for Daniel; he always had to try and see everyone's point of view. It was something Jack had grudgingly learned to respect, even if it did make his life a hell of a lot more complicated. "Look," he began, in a more conciliatory tone, "I-"

  "O'Neill." The interruption came from Teal'c, who stood, hands behind his back, watching the proceedings with his usual equanimity. "Do you not think it is curious that Quadesh went to such lengths to enlist your assistance, only to alienate you by detonating the bomb in the Kinahhi `gate room?"

  Jack turned and stared, as did Daniel. Teal'c wasn't exactly a chatter-box, so when he did open his mouth it was always worth listening. "You think he was set up?"

  Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "The Kinahhi knew that the documents had been copied. If they suspected Quadesh's involvement, this would have served to both remove the enemy within while ensuring that his credibility with you was destroyed."

  Flopping into the low chair next to Jack's, Daniel spoke quietly. "Teal'c, you're suggesting that the Kinahhi blew up their own government."

  "I am."

  "That's insane!" Jack objected.

  "Yeah, but Teal'c's right," said Carter. "Why would Quadesh give us the plans and ask for our help, then risk injuring or even killing us in the explosion? That doesn't make sense either."

  Frustrated, Jack ran a hand through his hair and leaned forward. "So where does this leave us?"

  Daniel gave a dry laugh. "With no one to trust?"

  That wasn't quite true. "There's one person," Jack said, glancing over. "Hammond."

  "Something else to tell the President?" Possibilities flew across Daniel's face. "If the Kinahhi are willing to destroy their own government to prevent us from hearing the case from the dissidents, that might be enough to persuade the President to break off the negotiations."

  Jack smiled. "It might."

  "On the other hand," Carter added, "General Hammond might be forced to hand the blueprints back."

  Stop Kinsey or save Boyd? Again, the same choice. Jack grimaced and pushed himself to his feet. "Get as much out of it as you can, Carter. Daniel, help her with the translation." He took a deep breath, gritting his teeth against the silent voice of Henry Boyd - don't leave me behind, sir! "I'm going to see Hammond."

  General George Hammond sat at his desk, staring at the man in front of him. A cold, outraged anger bubbled in the pit of his stomach, but he refused to allow it to show in his voice or his face. "If what you're telling me is true, then SG-1 will be guilty of stealing alien technology. That's a very serious allegation."

  Dark eyes narrowed and the man leaned forward, his hands spread widely on the edge of the general's desk. "I'm aware of that. But the evidence is overwhelming."

  "I'd like to see that evidence, Mr. Crawford."

  A feral smile split the man's narrow face. "Of course." From his jacket pocket he pulled a small device, not much bigger than the palmpilot Hammond's daughter had bought him for Christmas. The one still sitting in his desk, unused. As Crawford touched a button on the top of the smooth, gray device the whole thing became a screen and the general could see tiny figures moving about in what looked like a dimly lit room. "This," said Crawford, "is Councilor Quadesh illegally accessing blueprints for sensitive Kinahhi technology."

  Hammond looked. Truth be told, he could have been watching anything. "This is hardly convincing."

  The ambassador didn't seem bothered. He pressed the button again. "And this," he said, "is SG-1 stealing a Kinahhi transport." Hammond recognized his team flattened against the side of a square, alien craft before executing a textbook search-and-secure maneuver. Very elegant.
"Colonel O'Neill has already told me about their visit to the Kinahhi floating city. I agree it was reckless - perhaps a little imprudent - but no damage was done and no-"

  "No damage? I assure you, General, a great deal of damage was done to our negotiations." Crawford paused and allowed himself a selfimportant smile. "Fortunately, I was able to smooth things over."

  "Ambassador, unless you can show me hard evidence that my team has stolen schematics from-"

  A cursory knock on the door interrupted them, and Hammond winced at the timing as Jack O'Neill poked his head into the office. "Sir, I need to-" Then the colonel saw Crawford and froze. "I'll come back."

  "No!" Crawford exclaimed. "Come on in, Jack. We were just talking about you."

  Jack? The disrespect was deliberate and did nothing to quell Hammond's irritation. But the ambassador did have a point. "Come in, Colonel. I'm sure you'll be able to clear up a few matters for us."

  Cautiously, O'Neill stepped into the room. He eyed Crawford with a mixture of contempt and suspicion, leaning back against the far wall with his arms folded firmly over his chest. You didn't need to be a genius to read that body language. Hammond felt a moment of discomfort - was O'Neill hiding something? "So what's going on?"

  A foot shorter than the colonel, Crawford strutted like a peacock. "As you know, Councilor Quadesh has now been revealed as a dissident. The Kinahhi have evidence that he stole technical designs from their central database - designs for the anti-gravity technology you were so keen on gaining, Colonel."

  "Fascinating." O'Neill glanced down at his watch, adjusted it, and started playing with its buttons.

  Crawford plowed on. "hi addition, they have footage of your little adventure to the floating city of Tsapan. And of Quadesh, seen close to your guest quarters that very night!" He paused, triumphant. "What do you have to say to that, Jack?"

  O'Neill looked up from his watch, bemused. "Sony, I must have stopped listening when I realized you were talking."

  Repressing a smile, Hammond decided it was time to step in. "Colonel, did Councilor Quadesh give you any stolen technical designs?"

  There was a minute pause before O'Neill said, "No, sir."

  "That's good enough for me, Colonel." He turned back to Crawford. "And it's good enough for you too."

  "But the Kinahhi-"

  "Searched us before we left the planet!" O'Neill snapped. "They found nothing, Crawford, and you know it."

  Hammond rose. "I suggest, Mr. Crawford, that you tell the Kinahhi to investigate this among their own people. From what I've heard, they've got enough trouble there without importing more."

  Crawford's face darkened, a mass of bruised dignity and outrage. "I can assure you that they will investigate. And I have no doubt that we'll find SG-1's fingerprints all over this mess!" Leaning forward, he hissed, "You won't be able to protect them for long, General."

  "I think you've said enough, sir," Hammond growled. "I suggest you leave, before I have you removed."

  Snatching up his little palm-pilot, Crawford fixed him with a killer look. "Make the most of your last days in that chair, General." Then he turned, flinging a parting barb at O'Neill. "You too, Jack. I hear McMurdo is great this time of year. I'm sure you'll have a ball."

  He left the threats hanging in the air like a bad smell as he stalked out of the room. O'Neill said nothing, pushing his hands into his pockets and meeting Hammond's gaze with a wary look. The general sighed as he sat and leaned back in his chair, studying his second in command. He trusted him. He trusted him to do what was right for his people and his planet. But there was something in his eyes that spoke of concealment. "You've made an enemy there, Colonel."

  O'Neill shrugged. "He's his master's servant."

  "Yes, he is," Hammond agreed, trying to read the truth in the colonel's deadpan features. "Was there something else you wanted to see me about?"

  "Oh, it was-" Blinking, as if he'd forgotten entirely, O'Neill hedged. "It was Daniel, sir. Actually, the whole team. They took a beating on that last one. I was gonna ask to be pulled from the mission list for a couple of weeks."

  Hammond frowned. "Doctor Fraiser has already spoken to me, Colonel. SG-1 is on stand-down for fourteen days. There was a memo..."

  "Ah. Well, that explains it then." O'Neill flashed him something between a smile and a grimace. "I'll go... read my memos. Sir."

  Letting him leave with an amused shake of his head, Hammond felt his humor fade as the door swung shut and his office slid into silence. Colonel O'Neill was hiding something. But one thing he knew for sure - if O'Neill was keeping secrets then there was a damn good reason for it. For now, he'd let it ride and hold onto his faith in his people. SG-1 had never, ever let him down. And if it came to a choice between Jack O'Neill and Bill Crawford, then he knew damn well who he was going to trust.

  There was no choice at all.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  he living room in Sam's house had become the temporary headquarters for SG-1. Books were piled in cockeyed heaps, empty coffee mugs decorated every free space, and a makeshift chalkboard half obscured the window, cutting the light and making the whole room dimly reminiscent of the SGC. Even in the middle of the day the lights were on.

  Daniel sat slumped in a deep chair, one leg dangling over the arm, stomach rumbling. He glanced at his watch and hoped Jack would be back with the take-out soon. To distract himself from thoughts of hot and sour soup, he buried his nose in the stack of photos he'd taken of the mosaic ceiling on Tsapan. He'd finished his translation of the documents hours ago; the Kinahhi language, as it turned out, was closely based on Goa'uld and hadn't proved a challenge. At least for him. Sam, however, was having problems. She'd been staring at her computer screen all day, trying to make sense of the incomprehensible diagrams in front of her.

  On cue, she sighed heavily. "Daniel?"

  He glanced up. "Mmrnm?"

  "This figure," she tapped the screen, "you're sure it means two hundred?"

  "I'm sure." His nose was already back in the photos; she'd asked the same question four times. "Just like I was last time."

  "Sorry."

  Teal'c shifted where he sat on the floor, stood and came to peer over her shoulder. "You do not believe that this technology will be able to aid Major Boyd?"

  Sam looked defeated. It wasn't an expression Daniel had often seen on her face, and he found it oddly troubling. "Theoretically, this device could produce an anti-gray field of massive proportions. Far stronger than anything we saw on Kinahhi. I just don't know how we'd power it. A naquadah reactor - even a naquadria reactor - wouldn't be nearly enough." She landed a controlled fist with a little thump on the desk. "I shouldn't have told the colonel it was a possibility, Teal'c. I mean, a black hole! What was I thinking?"

  Teal'c raised an eyebrow. "You were thinking of Major Boyd and SG-10."

  With a rueful grimace she nodded. "Maybe if I had an unlimited budget and a team of researchers..."

  The rest of her words faded as Daniel found himself staring in astonishment at the photograph in his hand. He hadn't noticed it when looking at the images on-screen, but as he studied the mosaic of the Thunder-god wielding a fist full of swirling black clouds, he was struck by a lightning bolt of his own. "Uh, Sam?" Slowly he undraped his leg from the arm of the chair and sat forward, still studying the picture.

  "What is it?"

  Glancing at her over the tops of his glasses, he said, "This is interesting." He handed her the photo. "It's the ceiling on Tsapan."

  Pushing herself away from the computer, Sam took the picture. She stared at it for a moment, but its significance eluded her. "What about it?"

  "Look." He pointed at the thunderhead. "See how it's swirling?"

  She looked more closely at the dark mass, black in the center and fading to silver-streaked blue at the edges. Like a whirlpool or a- "Oh my God, it's a black hole."

  "Yes!" Daniel exclaimed. "Exactly what I thought. Teal'c?"

  The Jaffa took the photo from Sam and s
tudied it carefully. "Re' ammin the Thunderer," he mused. "The name is-" His head jerked up. "I have been foolish, Daniel Jackson!"

  "You have?"

  He handed the photograph back with a clipped motion that spoke volumes about repressed irritation. "It is a tale told on Chulak to frighten children into devotion to the false gods."

  Sam smiled slightly. "The Jaffa bogeyman?"

  "Perhaps. It is said that Re'ammin the Thunderer sought to challenge the gods. His power was vast. He could darken the sun and cast whole worlds into oblivion."

  "Whole worlds?" Her eyes widened.

  "But the gods would not let his hubris go unpunished. His Divine Palace was destroyed, his spear shattered and his shield rent asunder. He was made mortal and fled the power of the gods, taking his broken shield and hiding his face in the mud ofAsdad." A slight hint of a smile touched Teal'c's lips. "A fitting fate for any who would seek to challenge the power of the gods."

  Daniel smiled at that, but Sam didn't seem convinced. "If this Re'ammin is really Baal," she said, "the myth is wrong. He's still alive."

  Teal'c cocked an eyebrow. "It is possible that the myth refers only to his host."

  "Maybe. But if-"

  "Actually," Daniel interrupted, "Baal is a god of rebirth. Death and rebirth. As a Canaanite deity he was said to have defied Death, in the form of Mot, but was eventually taken down into the underworld only to be restored to life after Anat, his sister..." He stopped, glanced at their blank faces, and cleared his throat. "The point being, Teal'c's legend could well relate to Baal. And if it's right and if this", he waved the photo for emphasis, "is what it looks like, then-" He left the thought hanging.

  Sam picked it up, her tone awed and wary. "Then, at some point, Baal possessed a technology powerful enough to manipulate massive gravitational forces. As a weapon."

  "And cast whole worlds into oblivion."

  A grim silence filled the room. The thought of Baal in possession of such technology... Daniel shuddered. He was all too aware of the man's - monster's - capabilities.

  "The question is," said Sam, her voice hushed, "why hasn't he used it against the other System Lords?"