by
Doc
A breeze has sprung up, pulling the sting of the
afternoon heat. The low sun etches out furrows in the sand and sprinkles a
ribbon of fool’s gold across the Pacific. Pa-ci-fic. Latinate. Peace-making. Peace-inducing. Right
now it is. To humanoids anyway. A
soft surf sweeps in, obeying its own obscure rhythm, soothing said
humanoids. Different ballgame altogether for the oyster-catchers, which seem to
shy from getting their claws wet. And so, like affronted maiden aunts, they
scurry from the veils of foam that sidle up the beach.
Water played around his toes. The cool wind stroked
his bare arms and chest and made fine hairs stand on end. He shivered. Fingers
splayed, he pressed his hand into the sand, watching as the rising tide slowly,
inexorably eroded the imprint. Time and tide waiting for
noone. Everything was ephemeral, nothing was written in stone, loss was inevitable. True and trite at the same time, and
either way he didn’t like the thought. He’d lost far too much to relish waxing
philosophical over it. Another gust, another brief shudder.
He rose and walked back to his towel.
On the sand, tracks cross back and forth, meandering evidence of earlier
visitors, terrestrial and extra. A pair of five-toed, one-heeled size nines
accompanies the three-pronged patter of a diminutive ET. Or a sea fowl.
He collected his things, pulled on a bleached-out
black sweatshirt, and made his way to the rickety stairs that lead to the top
of the bluff. Narrow, elegant feet slipping in hot sand.
He was feeling cold again.
************************
“Ooooh, the weather outside is friiiightful
-”
The
caterwauling was drowned out by a pained chorus of “Danny! Shut!! Up!!!”, “Holy
Hannah, Daniel …”, “DanielJackson, I entreat you to desist”, “Dr Jackson,
please …”, “
Colonel Jack
O’Neill, Major Samantha Carter, Teal’c, Dr Janet Fraiser, Major Louis Feretti,
and the offending Dr Jackson sat around a table in the SGC’s
commissary, midway through the fourth hour of a Scrabble tournament. The main
challenge of the game so far had consisted of stopping O’Neill from cheating
outrageously. A short while ago this had culminated in a drawn-out argument
between him and Daniel about whether or not ‘Chulak’ was a geographic name. The
Colonel had had his sights set on triple points for the ‘k’ and pulled rank on
the archaeologist. Whereupon a vengeful Daniel had proceeded to demonstrate to
everyone within earshot that he did indeed know a song that got on their
nerves. Daniel singing was trying. Daniel singing a capella was
traumatic. Daniel singing a capella and being on the
fifteenth encore of the same verse was enough to bring Teal’c out of an
advanced state of kel-no-reem.
“Alright …
alright”, said Daniel, raising his hands. “Calm down. It’s just a song …”
Meanwhile,
Jack had used the distraction to sneak in ‘pizeria’
and leaned back, his face a cross between Cheshire Cat
and pure Pollyanna.
“Jack!!! I’m
gonna … start singing again! ‘Pizzeria’ is spelled with two ‘z’s!”
“Not in
Sam giggled.
“Really, sir …!”
“Carter! …”
“Colonel, may
I remind you that you’re due for a physical soon?” Dr Fraiser asked sweetly.
“Aw
…” Muttering, Jack removed four letters, leaving a puny ‘pie’ on the board.
It was
Feretti’s turn next, and he put down ‘bagels’.
“Ha!”, said Sam and topped them with ‘sausage’.
Janet offered
a triumphant ‘sandwich’.
Teal’c was
arranging his letters into ‘coleslaw’, a Tau’ri delicacy he had become partial
to.
Jack groaned.
“Anyone else feeling hungry?” He shot a baleful glance
at the food counter, where offers were down to mint-flavour protein bars, lime
Jell-O, and a strictly rationed stash of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups. At
lunchtime, lengthy negotiations and a fair amount of grovelling to NORAD
kitchen staff had yielded one measly jar of pickles, which they’d emptied in
record time. They’d be on MREs next …
It was the
worst blizzard to hit
A dreamy look
in her eyes, Sam broadcast her latest deprivation-induced
stream-of-consciousness. “Pizzeria … pizza … there’s this great little Italian
restaurant round the corner from my place … they do a fantastic Fiorentina … spinach … egg … garlic … loads of garlic … and -”
“Uh-uh”,
Daniel chimed in. “Give me a nice lasagne, dripping with béchamel sauce …”
“What is a
lasagne?”
“Oven-baked
pasta, Teal’c”, explained Janet. “Mince, mozzarella, tomatoes, thyme -”
“For
the love of God, Doctor! Stop it …” Feretti begged, salivating
like Pavlov’s dog.
“Let’s see if
they’ve got anything hidden away under the counter”, Sam proposed hopefully. “You coming, sir?”
“Nah”, said
Jack. “I hate protein bars …” He gave the Scrabble board an impatient shake.
Sam, Daniel,
Teal’c, and Janet initiated a cunning flank attack on the food counter.
O’Neill, chin propped up on his fist, rummaged through the jumble of letters on
the board and lovingly spelt out ‘Fiorentina’. “I
wonder if Carter’s Italian place does deliveries …”
“Sure”,
grinned Feretti. “Give’em a week or
two. They’ll shovel a track up here!”
“Reckon take-out’ll be quicker, then?”
Feretti
looked at Jack, his eyes narrowing. “No way, sir.
You’re not gonna get through.”
“Wanna bet?”
“Uhunh.
Fifty bucks says you won’t make it, Colonel.”
“Watch me.”
************************
The jeep
inched a path through the snowstorm, which was about to turn into a
full-fledged whiteout. Jack was going on instinct, unable to make out any
landmarks, more or less guessing where the road might be, and hoping he guessed
right. This probably hadn’t been such a shit-hot idea after all … Still, it’d be worth it, just for the pinched look on
Feretti’s face when he had to cough up fifty bucks. Not to mention - … Uh oh!
Where’s the road gone? Seen the ground, anyone? Terra firma? …
His vehicle
had given an uncontrollable lurch. Now it idly pirouetted down a steep slope …
Get out of the damn car, Jack! Chances are, you’ll be airborne in a second and
end up with your innards splattered all over the foot of a cliff … He was
struggling with his seatbelt when the jeep hit a strategically positioned tree.
The Colonel’s last thought as his head impacted on the steering wheel was,
‘Carter’s gonna be so pissed off …’
************************
Carter wasn’t
pissed off. Carter was fuming, fuming, and, oh yeah, had she mentioned
‘fuming’? She clung to her anger for dear life. The longer she stayed angry,
the less time she had to worry about that impossible overgrown elf someone had
seen fit to stick into a colonel’s uniform … Jeez, sir! Of all the cretinous
ideas …!
“Feretti,
you’re an idiot!”, she shouted. “How on earth could
you let him go? For a stupid bet!!”
When Colonel
O’Neill hadn’t returned after two hours, his partner-in-crime had started
having second thoughts and owned up. At the moment he was bearing the brunt of
the combined wrath of SG-1 and the CMO and looked more contrite by the minute.
Daniel was practically bouncing off the walls, periodically threatening to do
unprintable things to Feretti’s privates, while Teal’c seemed to be
contemplating whether to have the Major’s liver, fried, with fava beans.
Finally,
Janet suggested, “I say we go look for him. He probably didn’t get very far.
And when we find him, so help me, I’ll … I’ll run every test I can think of!!”
************************
Jack had come
to with a prize-worthy headache and small trickle of blood tickling his
forehead. He wiped his face on the sleeve of his jacket, then
wiggled the rest of his anatomy, to see if there was any further damage.
Apparently not … Now that was a
novelty! But considering the mood Doc Fraiser would be in, it was just as well
if he didn’t give her too many excuses to poke him … By his watch he’d been out
for half an hour, and the interior of the jeep was getting cold. Freezing, actually. He put the gear into neutral and tried
the ignition. Surprisingly enough the engine started … Yes! … O’Neill cranked
up the heating, checked the fuel gauge. Plenty to keep the motor running until
Feretti came and rescued him … hopefully … Shame about Carter’s pizza, though …
Ten
uncomfortable minutes later it dawned on him that, far from getting warmer, the
temperature in the car was dropping rapidly. While the engine had survived the
crash, the heating system obviously hadn’t … Go figure! … Oookay.
Time to take a hike! He turned up his collar, pulled a beanie hat over his
ears, and clambered out of the jeep … Whoa! The wind-chill was brutal. And he
still couldn’t see a damn thing … Well, he’d come down the hill, so up probably
was a good direction to take. Should have brought gloves … Hands tucked under
his armpits, he started walking … No. Make that ‘wading’ …
************************
One of the
MPs who stood guard topside confirmed that he’d seen Colonel O’Neill leave the
facility, “about … uhm … one-and-a-half, two hours ago? He said he needed to
get something from his car -”
“And naturally,
it never occurred to you that something might be wrong when he didn’t return”,
snapped Sam.
“No,
ma’am.” The hapless young man blushed, at a loss to
understand what his buddy Graham found so attractive about this vile-tempered
Major. “Sorry, ma’am … I guess, I wasn’t thinking …”
She wasn’t
mollified. “Try it some time. Works wonders for your -”
“Sam!” Daniel
put a hand on her arm. “Ease up. It’s not his fault.”
“I know …
Let’s go!” Sam shook him off.
Janet,
Teal’c, Daniel, Feretti, and Sam, all armed with flashlights and bundled up in
snowsuits, heavy boots, and an extravagant collection of hats, trotted along
the road to the mouth of the tunnel. Outside the blizzard continued to rage
with undiminished force. The snowfall was so heavy that footprints would be
indistinguishable after all this time, but the tracks of a jeep … Well, there
was a slim chance. They fought their way to the perimeter gate.
Suddenly
Teal’c’s voice boomed over the din of the storm. “SamanthaCarter!”
Brushing
snowflakes off her goggles, Sam squinted to spot what the
“Feretti!
Teal’c!” she yelled against the wind. “Take point! Stay on the tracks.”
Sam rounded
up Janet and Daniel and herded them on to catch up with the two men. As quickly
as they could they began following the trail of the jeep down what had to be
the road.
************************
It was
painfully slow going, and O’Neill had no idea how far he’d been climbing. That
stupid slope couldn’t have been that high, could it? He harboured a nasty
suspicion that he’d been walking in circles. Up or down made no difference,
really. The madly eddying flurries of snow disoriented him, and half the time
he could barely tell whether he was moving or standing still. In places the
drifts came up to his waist, and he’d long ago given
up on the notion of keeping his hands warm. More than once he’d had to dig
himself out of a hole … At least it makes a change from forever digging
yourself into a hole, Jack! … God,
he was cold! And so sleepy … Don’t even think about it! Don’t lie down! … Maybe
just for a minute … A minute can’t hurt … Carter’s gonna be so sore! … Maybe
two … or three … just to rest a little …
He sank into
a snowdrift and curled up. Within seconds he’d fallen asleep.
************************
With Teal’c
pitting his bulk against the storm like an icebreaker, they’d made good time
down the mountain, despite the weather. At least on the way up they’d have the
wind at their backs, Sam observed grimly as another violent gust snatched the
breath from her mouth. How anyone could survive out here for any length of time
… Oh, great, Carter! Keep those positive thoughts coming, why don’t you? …
Abruptly, the
“What is it,
Teal’c?” Sam padded to the front of their little column.
“I seem to
have lost the trail. Perhaps we should retrace our steps, SamanthaCarter.”
She nodded
and motioned the others to turn back. Five minutes later Feretti picked up the
trail again. The tracks veered off the road and over the edge of a slope.
“Shit!” he said feelingly.
“Shit!” echoed
Sam and plunged a few yards down the hill before pausing to let her team catch
up. If she remembered her topography correctly, the bottom of this slope fell
off into a ravine … Eyes straining, she still couldn’t make out anything but
white. She was beginning to loathe that colour with a rare passion. Teal’c,
Janet, and Feretti slid and skidded to a halt around her. Sam pointed downhill.
“Let’s go! But stay to-”
Daniel came
bumbling past them in a gangly, gravity-driven gallop.
“-gether … Daniel!! Be careful!!!”
Bang on cue,
Daniel tripped, turned a tidy forward somersault, and vanished in a spray of
snow. Teal’c went after him and dragged him out of the drift he’d landed in.
“Hey,
“Shut it,
Major!” Janet said. “Come on, let’s go.” She and Feretti joined Teal’c who was
busy dusting off Dr Jackson.
“Hey! Hang on
a sec …” The howling wind made Sam’s shout fizzle, and they didn’t hear her,
but she was too preoccupied to care. Daniel had tripped over something. Okay,
so he wasn’t the most coordinated person alive, but usually even he had to have
a reason to stumble. A root, a rock, or … The odds were astronomical, but she’d
better check. Sam staggered over to the spot where Daniel had launched into his
acrobatic display, and started digging. Moments later she’d uncovered a
shoulder, the SGC insignia on a sleeve … My God! … She kept shovelling snow
with both hands, until she’d cleared the Colonel’s head and neck, tore her
gloves off with her teeth, and felt for his pulse … Dammit, sir! … Don’t you
dare … There! A tad slow, but nice and strong. She almost cried with relief.
Then her anger resurfaced.
She pulled
him up and shook him, none too gently. “Colonel! Wake
up! ‘nough played, sir! Time
to come home for dinner … Janet!!” she hollered at the top of her lungs.
“Janet! Up here!”
“Oh,
for cryin’ out loud! Stop shouting in my
ear, Carter!” O’Neill croaked. “What the hell …?”
“My thought
precisely, sir.” In the beam of the flashlight, she examined his face.
He blinked at
the light. “Carter, do you mind -”
Uh
oh. She recognised those telltale white blotches on his
skin. “Permission to strike a superior officer, sir …” Sam slapped him. Twice. Hard.
“Ow!! …
Major! I know you’re mad at me, but -”
“Sorry,
Colonel. Your face is getting frostbitten. Best way of
kick-starting circulation. Besides … you deserved it! Sir!”
The others
were ploughing their way back up the hill, following Sam’s shouts. Dr Fraiser
was the first to arrive.
“Thank God! …
You okay?” she gasped.
“Peachy,
apart from getting beaten up by my 2IC. Anyone else
want a go?”
Janet glared
at him. “Don’t tempt me, Colonel!”
Jack pulled
his hat over his face.
************************
“Okay, sir.
I’m keeping you in overnight, for observation”, Janet announced and scribbled a
few notes on his chart. Without even looking up, she continued, “No use giving
me that Aw, mom! look
of yours. You’re staying. But if you want to argue the point, we always can let
General Hammond decide …”
“Aw,
mom! … Carter started it!”
“Colonel!”
The doctor grinned. “A personal favour, please? Try acting your age, not your
shoe-size!”
“Doc-”
“Good
Night, sir.”
************************
During the
night, the blizzard blew over at last, and in the early morning hours the first
snow ploughs and supply trucks reached
Sam stood in
the control room, supervising the preparations for a MALP survey of P2W 873.
The probe sat on the ramp, ready to go, and the stargate was spinning up.
“Chevron 5
encoded”, Lieutenant Graham Simmons called out. “Chevron 6 encoded. Chevron 7 …
locked.”
The watery
cascade of the event horizon leapt out into the embarkation room and retreated,
settled into the familiar luminous membrane inside the gate. The device rolled
towards it, into it, and disappeared.
“Tracking
the object. Object will reach destination in four …
three … two … one …” Simmons switched on the video and audio monitors, and
punched up environmental data on the computer.
“Morning,
Carter!”
Sam turned
around and watched the Colonel saunter up the last few steps into the control
room, spilling coffee from the two mugs he was carrying. “Morning,
sir. How’s the head?”
“Better. More
than can be said for my jaw … Where did you learn to hit like that? Ah! … Don’t
tell me, I know: Level 3 Unarmed Combat …”
She bit her
lip. Maybe should have pulled your punches a bit, Carter? … “Sorry, sir …”
“Forget it.
As a wise woman said at the time, I deserved it … I … uh … Sam, I … Here!”
O’Neill thrust a mug of coffee at her. “First batch, fresh
from the machine. Peace?”
Knowing her
CO well enough to interpret this, correctly, as abject apology, Sam took the
mug, grinning. “Peace, sir. Thanks for the coffee.”
“You’re
welcome … And no, Simmons, it’s not what you think, whatever it is you’re
thinking”, Jack said in the direction of the Lieutenant who’d listened to their
conversation with his mouth hanging open. Then the video transmission from the
MALP caught O’Neill’s attention. “So, what have we got there?”
“Live footage
from P2W 873, Colonel. The General has just scheduled a team to assess the
feasibility of mining operations. Preliminary surveys have shown that the
planet is rich in naquada and other rare ores and minerals, sir”, replied Sam.
“And by the
looks of it, it’s also the home of a new species of yak, Yeti, and the
Abominable Snowman. Who are the lucky guys to win a trip to this permafrost theme
park?”
“Uh
… SG-1 … sir.”
Jack choked
on his coffee, coughed, and spluttered, “No way, Carter! … I … I’m allergic to
snow!”
************************
“… so,
people, your primary mission objective is to ascertain whether or not there is
an indigenous population on the planet and, if yes, to find out whether they’ll
be amenable to mining operations. We don’t want another Salish
incident, if we can at all avoid it. Also, we need you to survey and chart
areas with promising naquada deposits. Which means you’d
better count on at least five days off-world.”
The mission
briefing for P2W 873 was winding down, and General Hammond was summarising
details. “Any questions?”
“Yes,
sir. How about sending SG-2 instead?” Colonel O’Neill
asked brightly. “I hear Feretti has a scientific interest in snowdrifts …”
Sam hid a
smile.
“Unfortunately,
Colonel, Major Feretti is otherwise engaged. He’s shovelling snow in the
parking lot, which should cool his betting fever at least temporarily. However,
if you’d like to join him …”, the General offered
deadpan.
“No,
sir. That … uhm … won’t be necessary.”
Jack sneezed. “Sorry, sir! Uh … Allergies …?”
Daniel
snorted. “Bless you!”
There was a
knock at the briefing room door. An Airman entered and quietly conferred with
General Hammond.
O’Neill
scanned the faces of his team, scowling. “Right!” he said in a low hiss. “Who
spilled the beans?! … Teal’c? … Daniel?! … Carter …?”
The only
response he got was barely suppressed laughter from both Sam and Daniel, and a
blank look from Teal’c. “Beans, O’Neill?”
“Very funny
…” Jack sneezed again.
“Gesundheit!”, said
Daniel.
The Airman
saluted and left.
Struggling to maintain a stern face, the General stared at O’Neill. “If
you’re looking for the stool-pigeon, Colonel, try a mirror. With the ruckus you
caused yesterday, I’d have to be deaf and blind not to know what’s been going
on. Personally, I think the less said about it, the better. Besides, I take it
that Major Carter has already … hmph … conveyed
everybody’s opinion of your little excursion.” His gaze wandered to Sam, whose
ears had taken on a flattering ruby tinge. A moment later
“Guest?”
Daniel mouthed, and Sam shrugged her shoulders.
Teal’c arched
an inquisitive eyebrow.
“Guest, sir?”
asked Jack, unconsciously mimicking Teal’c’s expression.
The General
cleared his throat, very ill at ease all of a sudden. “Yes. In view of the
strategic importance of finding a viable source of naquada,
“Excuse me, General, but didn’t I just hear you say ‘expert’?” Daniel
cut in, semantically astute as ever. “So, what’s it to be? An
expert or a student?”
“- and is
training to be a mining engineer”,
“Ah
… General?”
“Colonel?!”
Weighing his
options and deciding on a tactical retreat, O’Neill looked down and began
doodling on his notepad. “Never mind, sir … It’ll keep.”
“I thought
so, Colonel … Please, people -”
The door
opened, and Airman Guttridge ushered in their
‘guest’. “Sirs, ma’am. Miss Farrell.”
************************
If Caroline
Farrell was aware of the somewhat reserved reception, she never showed it. She
was tall and in possession of a rich auburn mane, sleeked into a French braid;
high cheekbones; the soft, liquid eyes of a doe; and a sensuous little pout of
a mouth. She was stunning and impeccably turned out. She also was articulate,
self-assured, and obviously undaunted by her surroundings.
Well, if
you’re used to calling the President of the United States ‘uncle’ and popping
round to the White House for dinner every so often, a mere room full of brass,
geeks, and aliens at some top-secret facility would leave you cold … Sam watched curiously as Miss Farrell, yet
another scientist, weathered Colonel O’Neill’s scrutiny.
A few years
ago she herself had walked into this same room and come up against this same
mocking mask, comprised, at even parts, of coldness, arrogance, and
condescension. God, she’d been so green by comparison! Bright-eyed and
bushy-tailed and oh so green … Caroline Farrell acquitted herself more
elegantly than Sam had at the time, countering borderline rudeness with suave
charm, instead of issuing an invitation to an arm-wrestling match. Then again,
Farrell missed out on the considerable pleasure of seeing the Colonel’s jaw
drop a fraction, just before a glint of amused respect crept into his eyes …
************************
When the
briefing had concluded, Sam took their guest to the locker room to help her
assemble her gear. “Don’t worry about Colonel O’Neill, Miss Farrell, he -”
“Oh, please,
call me Caroline”, the geologist replied. “And rest assured, Doctor … or do you
prefer Major?”
“Sam”,
offered Carter.
Farrell broke
into a grin. “Sam. Rest assured, the Colonel doesn’t
worry me in the slightest. On the contrary. Makes a nice
change from those simpering, sycophantic preppies that waddle around campus …
He’s an interesting man. Quite a challenge. Knows what
he wants and how to get it, I’d say. I respect that. I’m the same. I guess,
Colonel O’Neill and I have more in common than -”
“We’d better
hurry. We’re due in the ‘gate room in ten”, Sam said brusquely, nipping that
particular conversation in the bud. She’d rather eat Feretti’s boots than get
into a discussion about the compatibility of the Colonel and Miss Farrell. And
she’d have his socks for dessert before investigating why such a discussion
should bother her that much.
************************
A winding road through the
mountains. Craggy slopes gape to reveal a vista of infinity,
kissed to blushing point by the evening sun. Hill crest upon hill crest recedes
into gauzy haze, impossibly sharp colours and outlines dissolve to contour-less
pastel and finally to the mere idea of hills unravelling in the distance.
He pulled
over and got out of the car, started climbing towards the pass, fully aware
that it was futile. Even if he sprouted wings, he’d never reach that distant,
delicate silhouette that looked like peace itself. Need overcame reason, so he
kept walking. Walking in that peculiar gait of his, which she would have
recognised instantly, had she been there to observe. Seemingly always at the
brink of breaking into a run, a slight bounce accentuating each long stride. He
slowed down at last, came to a halt at the top of the ridge.
The ocean
wind gripped his hair, tousled and tugged at it, without leaving any visible
effect on what already and always was your basic crow’s nest. Now that he saw
the valley spread below him, he couldn’t fathom what had driven him up here. It
was beautiful, but he viewed it as through a glass pane, incapable of reaching
out and touching it or letting it touch him.
Without
noticing, he hugged himself. He was shivering again. Escape from the cold was
what had brought him out here in the end. Escape from the cold and fulfilment of
a self-imposed duty he would have given anything to avoid.
************************
The binary
suns of P2W 873 shone down on a breathtaking mountainscape,
and their light refracted on glaciers and snowfields in myriads of prismatic
sparks. The ‘gate stood in open terrain on a ridge between two peaks,
overlooking a deep, shadow-cloaked valley. Apart from SG-1 and their newly
acquired geologist, there wasn’t a soul in sight.
“Great!”, Jack muttered acerbically, adjusting his sunglasses and
glaring at an innocent forest that clung to the mountainside several hundred
yards below the ‘gate. “My life is complete: snow and trees! Who’s a lucky boy, th-” He
sneezed.
“Salud y pesetas!” Daniel exclaimed happily.
“Daniel … !!”
“Just being
polite, Jack”, sniggered Daniel.
“Don’t be!”
The Colonel unloaded a pair of skis from FRED, stepped into the bindings, and
shouldered his pack. “Come on, kids! Let’s go. We haven’t got all day!”
Aided by Sam,
Teal’c put on his skis and doubtfully eyed the appendages on his feet.
“O’Neill? Are you certain that walking on boards is the type of locomotion
appropriate for this environment? I understood that it was an ancient naval
diversion.”
O’Neill
looked at the
Even from the
distance, Sam could detect a rare glow of joy on the Colonel’s face. “Having
fun, are we, sir?” she whispered under her breath, smiling.
Caroline
Farrell had skied over to Sam, watching O’Neill with the air of a connoisseur.
“Not bad. Be interesting to see if I can beat him. I hope you don’t ski as well
as he does, else I’ll develop an inferiority complex.”
Fat chance of
that ever happening, Sam thought.
The Colonel
was getting impatient. “What’s taking you so long?! … Carter? … Daniel?
…Teal’c? Come on, Teal’c! It’s easy! Just keep your legs bent! …”
Grim
determination in his eyes, Teal’c planted his poles in the snow and levered
himself into the slope.
“Teal’c!!
Wait!!!”
Daniel’s
warning came too late. Two-hundred-odd pounds of
Jack went
after him. “Teal’c! Turn! Dammit! You gotta turn!”
Upon analysis
of the situation, Teal’c concluded that the wisest course of action would be to
sit down. Which he did, in the process creating a sizeable
trough in the mountainside, before shuddering to a halt within a yard or two
from the rock. Moments later the others caught up with him.
“Teal’c? You
okay? How’s Junior?”
“I am in
satisfactory condition, O’Neill, and so is my symbiote”, Teal’c growled, his
pride being the only casualty of the little escapade. “I had not anticipated
the degree of skill this … skiing … requires.”
“Yeah, well …
You’ve gotta learn how to turn … I’ll teach you …” O’Neill cast a wistful
glance at the alluring expanse of virgin powder snow and gave a little sigh of
self-denial.
Sam opened
her mouth, but Daniel was quicker. “Look, Jack … Let me! I’m not that keen on
this off piste, knee-deep-in-powder lark. You guys go and enjoy, and I’ll give
Teal’c a skiing lesson.”
“You’re
sure?”
“Yeah.
Buzz off!”
“Cool … Meet
you at the bottom!” O’Neill traversed back towards the steepest part of the
slope. Suddenly he stopped and turned around, grinning broadly. “Hey, Danny?! … Thanks!”
“Uh
… Daniel?” Sam tapped Dr Jackson’s shoulder. “Not keen on this
off piste lark??”
“Shh. Don’t
spoil it for him … When’s the last time you saw him look this happy …?”
“Oh?”
Caroline Farrell waited for an explanation.
Daniel
frowned. “Uhm … Okay, Teal’c. You ready?”
“I am ready,
DanielJackson.” Teal’c had examined the contents of his backpack for any
breakage. Now he awkwardly came to his feet and slipped on the pack.
Clearly not
used to having her queries deflected, Farrell gave an angry frown of her own
and skied off to join the Colonel.
“Hey,
Carter!? Any time this century’ll be
fine …”
“I’ll race
you, sir!”
“In
your dreams!” Jack shouted, put his cap on back to
front, and set off, leaving Farrell standing.
Oh, yeah?
You’ve got another thing coming, sir! … Sam started after him, losing herself
in the rhythm of her movement. The only sounds were the hiss of metal edges on
icy crystals, the rustle of dislodged crests of snow flying away in her wake,
and her short, steady puffs of breath in the crisp air. Oh, yeah! This was fun! Sam gave a soft little laugh.
Shift, turn, shift, turn, sh-
Farrell cut
across her path, close enough almost to scrape the tips of Sam’s skis and
breaking her flow.
“Dammit!!” …
Shift … Wrong. She’d wrong-footed herself. Instead of gliding into a turn, Sam
toppled over the edge of her bottom ski and sailed out of the slope. A moment
of weightlessness, then she began falling out of control, tumbling
head-over-heels down the mountain, past Farrell, past the Colonel, every now
and again hitting the ground, only to rebound … Get on your back, Carter! Get
your arms and legs out of harm’s way! … When she realised that it wouldn’t
happen, she started panicking, hyperventilating. Her left ski tore off,
clipping her leg as it ricocheted away. Where are my gloves? … Someone’s
punched your ticket, Carter! … Why the hell doesn’t that binding release?! …
What a totally dumb-ass way to die! … Totally, totally - … Her right ski bit
into the snow, twisted inward, and with a final forward roll she came to rest
in the hollow that had broken her fall.
For a few
long seconds Sam just lay there, savouring the miraculous absence of motion. At
last she sat up, dazed and disoriented, brushing snow from her face and digging
it out of her collar. The glacier stuck in her underwear would have to melt on
its own. Her pack was gone, and so were her hat and shades. And
the poles. But she was still alive … You’d have to be alive to feel that
sick … And something hurt like merry hell! Wow!! Oh, wow … She panted against
the pain and dimly recollected how, during that last nosedive, she’d felt
something snap in her ankle.
“Sam …?”
Now, why did
the Colonel look so damn green around the gills? After all, he hadn’t gone down
the hill like a tumbleweed on acid. Sam went back to
straightening herself out … Boy, this hurt! Wonder where that other ski’s ended
up …
He’d cast off
his skis and skidded down to her. “Carter! … Are you alright? … Dammit, Major,
I asked you a question!”
“I’m fine”,
Sam mumbled, trying to get to her feet. “Ouch!” She slumped back into the snow,
cackling hysterically.
“Uhunh.
‘Fine’. Right.” Recognising shock
when he saw it, Jack opted for a practical approach. He crouched and removed
her ski.
Sam yelped,
and the manic laughter stopped.
“Sorry,
Carter. You with me now?”
“Yes,
sir. Sorry… This hurts!”
“I know,
Carter. It’ll hurt some more in a minute. Feel free to scream at me, Major …”
She didn’t,
but it was a close call. He’d stripped off her boot and sock and gently
manipulated her foot. Between clenched teeth, she spat, “That’s great, Colonel!
Now it’s cold and hurts … Ouch! What the hell is it? A
break?”
“Don’t think
so. Much more entertaining than that. Looks like a
torn ligament …” He slipped the sock back on her foot. “In a few hours your ankle’ll be the size of a pumpkin … more colourful,
though.”
“Can’t
wait!” She started shaking.
Jack took off
his jacket and draped it around her. Then he pulled her close, rubbing her back
and arms to keep her warm.
************************
They’d made
camp on a sheltered ledge in the forest, below the overhang of a cliff. By the
time they’d finished rigging the tents, both suns had set, and the temperature
had sunk well below freezing. Teal’c and the Colonel had gone to secure the
perimeter; Farrell was in her tent, checking equipment; and Daniel was
searching the packs in the forlorn hope of unearthing macaroni cheese MREs that
didn’t taste of chicken.
Wrapped in a
thermal blanket, Sam sat by the campfire and inspected her foot. The Colonel
had been right. The ankle had swollen to a spectacular size, and its colour
display could compete with a parrot in mating plumage. Under her breath she
muttered a curse that would have startled a Marine. As soon as she’d said it,
she was annoyed with herself for even remembering the phrase. It had been one
of Jonas Hanson’s choice expletives. To be sure, she’d heard it often enough …
And what on earth had opened up that old can of worms? Leave off, Carter! The
man’s dead. Has been dead for over two years … She shook her head as though to
dispel the memories.
A loud sneeze
made her turn. By the sounds of it, the Colonel and Teal’c had completed their
rounds of the perimeter. Sam grinned. “Skål!”, she called, drawing a dirty look from O’Neill and an
indignant grumble from their resident linguist whom she’d pipped to the post.
Daniel wasn’t
about to be beaten at his own game. “Skål,
that means -”
“Good
Health”, Teal’c supplied obligingly and to Daniel’s dismay.
Jack sneezed
again. “Ah! … Nastrovye! That means: Shut up and go away!”
With a
chuckle Daniel wandered off to sort out dinner, while Teal’c disappeared into
his tent, presumably for a sane, sensible colloquy with Junior.
“How’s the
ankle?”, asked O’Neill, warming his hands over the
fire.
“I’ll have to
borrow a spare boot from Teal’c”, Sam replied. “If it’s all the same to you,
sir, I guess next time round I’d prefer a common garden-variety fracture. This
sucks …”
“Believe me,
I know.” He sat down next to Sam. “‘Far as I’m concerned, the only thing worse
is a dislocated shoulder …”
“Been there
and done that, sir?”
Jack nodded.
“What did you
do?”
“Nothing.
It was done for me.” From one moment to the next his face had become closed,
impenetrable.
Inadvertently,
they’d blundered into a no-go area. One of the many … Sam recalled Farrell’s
remark, ‘an interesting man’, and almost laughed. It didn’t even begin to
describe him. ‘Walking minefield’ might be more appropriate, as full of
contradictions as an NID report to the Joint Chiefs … God only knew what this
was all about.
O’Neill
misread her reaction, deliberately perhaps. “You want to keep that foot up. Hurts less that way.” He carefully lifted her leg and placed
it across his lap. Suddenly he grinned. “I hope you realise that I’m the most
highly classified footstool you’re ever gonna use …”
“And the
noisiest … So, what’s the prognosis, sir? Am I gonna run the miracle mile any
time soon?”
“I wouldn’t
count on it … What actually happened, Carter? I mean, how -”
“Uh … Colonel O’Neill? …
Sam?” Caroline Farrell was watching them from across the campfire. “I want to
apologise … I’m afraid what happened was my fault. It was meant to be a joke …
If I’d thought for a moment it’d throw you, Sam …” She winced at the
unintentional pun. “I’m really sorry. I should have acted more responsibly -”
The Colonel
exploded. “Dammit, Farrell, who the hell do you think you are to -”
“Sir!
Don’t. Please …” Sam had placed a hand on his arm in a subtle warning. O’Neill
got the message and backed down reluctantly. She turned to Farrell. “Forget it,
okay? It happened. I’m fine. Mostly, anyway. Just keep
in mind that this is not a skiing holiday and that mountain rescue’s half a
galaxy away.”
“I really am sorry, Sam. I didn’t mean any harm. It’s
just that I tend to assume that, simply because I can do something with ease,
other people can as well …”
Sam suspected
she’d been insulted, but the insult, couched in what seemed a sincere apology,
could have been accidental … Yeah! About as accidental as Farrell cutting
across her on the slope … Oh, for Pete’s sake, Carter! Pull yourself together!
How paranoid can you get?!
Still
fighting to control his temper, O’Neill said softly, “Just for the record, Miss
Farrell: if it were up to me, I’d send you home with Major Carter. As it is, I
suggest you blend into the background for the next few days!”
“I’m sorry”,
Farrell mumbled. “I -”
“Uh
… Sir?”
“What?!”
“Home?”
“Tomorrow
morning we’ll take you up to the ‘gate and send you back, Carter, so Janet can
take care of your foot”, he stated, his tone declaring Sam’s return a foregone
conclusion.
“No,
sir.”
His eyebrows
shot up.
“I know it
says ‘Colonel’ somewhere on your uniform, sir, but, as it happens, you’ve got
only one expert on naquada running around in this place. And that’d be me. You
need me -”
“’Running around’?”
“Alright,
hobbling around.
I’ll be okay, sir.”
There was a
long pause. Finally he sighed. “I’ll probably regret this, but I’ll let you
stay. For the time being. That ankle gets any worse,
you’re going home. And Major?”
“Yes,
sir?”
“Do something
about that following-orders-thing of yours …”
“Yes,
sir!” She grinned.
Caroline
Farrell walked away.
************************
Sam had
insisted on standing … alright, sitting
… watch as she normally would. Eventually, the boys had given in, on the
condition that she took first watch and got some uninterrupted sleep
afterwards. Everyone had gone to bed, and she was back on her perch by the
fire, listening to the night sounds.
The eerie
silence was broken only occasionally. Small furry hunters or scavengers tiptoed
through the undergrowth, sometimes loud cracks echoed from the mountains. At
first they’d mistaken the noise for the report of gunshots, until they realised
that it was the sound of crevices bursting open on the glaciers. They’d seen no
signs of human life at all. Then again, it was early days. There might be a
native population further down in the valleys. Somehow Sam doubted it. No place
inhabited by humans, however remote, could exude such barren loneliness …
Involuntarily, she shuddered. Just as well that she was due to be relieved in
little over half an hour.
She heard a
sudden, faint rustle from the direction of the tents, and started. Footsteps squeaking in the fresh, freezing snow. Someone approaching her. Her fingers curled around the gun.
“Hi”, said
Caroline Farrell. “Mind if I join you? I couldn’t sleep and thought I’d keep
you company for a while.”
“Be my
guest.” Sam waved a hand a the log beside her and
shifted uncomfortably. She felt no inclination whatsoever to make small talk
with Miss Farrell.
Farrell sat
and gazed at the flames. It was her turn to fidget. Hesitantly, she began, “I
did it again, didn’t I? I upset you.” She looked sidelong at Sam. “I didn’t
mean to patronise you or to infer that you’re a bad skier. It just came out
wrong …”
“Don’t sweat
it”, mumbled Sam. “I’m more thick-skinned than you might think.”
“No, I feel I
should explain. See, growing up the way I have doesn’t exactly hone one’s
social skills. I’m an only child. Fairly old, very rich parents who thought
everything I did was sensational, who indulged me like you wouldn’t believe.
Even now, anything I want, I get. This jaunt is a case in point. Christ! I
shouldn’t even know about all this, let alone be here … Dad dropped an
unguarded remark, and I kept probing until he told me about the programme. In the strictest confidence, of course.” She gave a brief
laugh. “Once I found out, I wanted to go, obviously. I mean, who’d go stumbling
through swamps in
Wow! Cheers
and applause for the Poor little rich
girl routine … Sam settled for a non-committal reply. “So?”
“I’d very
much like for us to be friends … if you can put up with me …”
“Caroline,
it’s not a question of putting up with you, it’s -”
“So we’re
friends?!”
Jeez! Nobody
can be that naïve, least of all you! … But somehow Sam didn’t have the heart to
tell Farrell that they hardly knew each other, and that, in all probability,
any form of friendship would be even more unlikely upon closer acquaintance.
Instead she said, “Sure.”
“Oh, I’m so glad … After today, I didn’t think
you’d even want to speak to me! I don’t have many friends, you know …” Farrell
beamed at her.
Terrific,
Carter! Here we go again! … ‘Healer of the emotionally wounded’ … Oh, damn you, Jonas! But perhaps that was the connection. She
had that old, familiar sense of being pushed into doing something, being
something she didn’t want to do or be … Sam wearily massaged her temples,
trying to banish the ghosts of the past and a dull throb that promised to
blossom into a roaring headache.
Oblivious to
Sam’s strained silence, Farrell was on to a new topic. “Colonel O’Neill is very
angry with me, isn’t he?”
With a sigh,
Sam raised her head. “He’s responsible for his team’s safety, and he takes that
very seriously. So, yes, he’s angry.”
“Sam? Can I
ask you something?”
“You can
try.”
“You and
Colonel O’Neill … Are you … you know … an item?”
“Hell,
no! Whatever gave you that idea?!”
“Well, you
seem … very close …”
“We are.
We’re team-mates. End of story.”
“Oh …”
Farrell smiled. “So, you wouldn’t mind, if I … I fancy him, but I wouldn’t want
to step on your toes, you know …”
Fancy him?! … Sam’s headache erupted to full glory, just as
she heard herself say, “No. I don’t mind.”
Yes, I do.
Don’t. Do, too … No, you don’t mind, Carter! You couldn’t mind, even if you
wanted to … You! Don’t! Mind! … God, her head hurt! Had to be from the fall …
“That’s
great!”, chirped Farrell. “Just thought I’d ask, you
know, get things straight and out in the open. By the way, any hints you can
give me would be much appreciated …”
“Excuse me?”
“Oh, like, what
to do to get him interested … You could tell me a bit about him … You’re all so
secretive!” Farrell nudged Sam. “Like, what did Dr Jackson mean when he said he
hadn’t seen Colonel O’Neill this happy in ages? What was that all about? … He
wouldn’t say”, she added accusingly.
Sam pinched
the bridge of her nose. She’d thought her headache couldn’t possibly get any
worse, but it had. “Look, Caroline, if -”
“Hey,
Carter!”
She looked up
and saw the subject of this absurd conversation coming towards them. Of course. He had second watch … Ten to one that this was
the real reason why Farrell was out here! … “Hi, sir!”
He ambled up
to the fire, running both hands through his hair in an effort to undo the
aftermath of what had to have been a pitched battle with the pillow. Sam
smiled. How on earth did he manage to do that? … She struggled to get up and
was punished by surges of pain from opposite ends of her anatomy. “Shit!” she
gasped, staggering.
The Colonel
caught her. “Whoa! Steady on! …” With a quick glance at Sam’s pasty face he
said, “You look like death on toast, Major! I’m not gonna tell you I told you
so, but I told you so. Bed!” Unceremoniously, he
picked her up and carried her to her tent.
He all but
tucked her in. “Get some rest, Sam …”
“I will,
Colonel.”
“You know,
for a minute there today I thought …”
As his voice
trailed off, Sam felt his fingers tentatively brush her forehead. “Still here,
sir”, she whispered, catching his hand and giving it a quick, reassuring
squeeze. “Night, sir.”
“Night,
Carter.” Quietly, he left.
Falling
asleep, the last image in Sam’s mind was the ugly flare of fury she’d seen
racing across Caroline Farrell’s face as the Colonel had carried her away from
the campfire … Get a life, Farrell! …
************************
Between her
ankle, the headache, and Farrell’s odd behaviour, Sam hadn’t slept too well. In
the morning she was woken by angry shouting.
“Dammit,
Daniel!! How many times do I have to tell
you?!”
“I’m sorry,
Jack, I -”
“If
you can’t hack it in the real world,
Holy Hannah!
What the hell was the matter with the Colonel? This wasn’t just your average
O’Neill Had a crap night so stay away from me early-morning-grump.
This was serious. Sam crawled out of the tent just in time to see him stalk
away, leaving behind a dismal looking Daniel who slowly crumpled onto a log and
began stoking the fire.
“Oh! Rise and
shine!” intoned a jaunty voice. “How are you this morning, Sam?”
Farrell. What
else could go wrong before breakfast? … Caroline Farrell seemed pleased with
herself, and Sam had a strong hunch that Caroline Farrell pleased with herself
was not a good thing … Oh well. At least she looked friendlier than last night.
“Morning”, Sam said. “I’m better, thanks. What was that all about?”
“Dr Jackson
left his sidearm lying in the snow. I think Colonel O’Neill was a bit put out
…”
A bit put out?!? Yeah, you could call it
that, if you were of an incurably cheerful disposition. The outburst had been a
wild overreaction to Daniel’s peccadillo. It had been designed to hurt, and
that was very unlike Jack O’Neill. Sam limped over to Daniel, discovering along
the way that, although her ankle screamed, it didn’t scream quite as loudly as
it had the day before.
“Hey,
Daniel. Care to tell me what’s going on between you and the
Colonel?”
“Hi, Sam … uh
… Looks like Jack’s contrived a way of getting up on the wrong side of a
sleeping bag …” He attempted a smirk and failed miserably. “Whatever’s bothering
him seems to be confined to me, though. Teal’c he treated like a normal human …
uhm …
Over
breakfast they found out that Daniel’s assessment wasn’t entirely accurate.
Whatever was bothering Colonel O’Neill clearly extended to Sam.
He was civil to Teal’c, made a point of talking to Caroline Farrell, and
completely ignored Sam and Daniel.
Eventually he
announced, “Okay. We’ll look for the natives, if they exist. Any naquada or
other interesting rocks you stumble across, chart the position, and we’ll
explore it later. Invalids with me, everybody else with
Teal’c.” He rose, signalling that it was time to move out.
Sam swallowed
a sharp reply.
************************
He had been
in this place before, hiding in the cold comfort of an empty soul, not
touching, not being touched. Until first Daniel, and later Sam and Teal’c had
matched his own stubbornness refusal for refusal, forcing him into a radical
reappraisal of his sense of self-worth. The notion that he might deserve friendship,
kindness, caring had appeared alien beyond belief. But with acceptance had come
recovery.
If
it could be called recovery. Who said it wouldn’t have been
wiser not to let them breach his defences? Wiser to have stayed where he’d
been, not feeling, not caring, not being alive, ultimately? He had re-learnt
how to feel, care, live, and had laid himself wide
open to being hurt again.
A reluctant sun creeps towards the ocean, giving a gilded farewell to
the hilltops. Shadows rear from the valley, and gradually the landscape’s
vibrancy is dulled. Here and there in the dusk, lights emerge like pointless
stars, trapped in deadening twilight.
Physical pain
he could deal with. He’d known times when he’d greeted it as an old friend,
because it was the one iron-clad assurance of having cheated death for another
hour, another day. But this, this hopeless void where a face
had been, a smile, a voice always arguing with him, always being infuriatingly
right, this he couldn’t bear. Cold. He felt so
cold.
************************
Teal’c’s group had gone north, descending into the
valley below their camp, while Sam and the Colonel had headed west, snaking
along the lower reaches of the glaciers to see what lay beyond. Nothing much, so far. They’d been walking for almost three
hours at the brisk clip set by O’Neill. He hadn’t uttered a word since they’d
left.
Initially, Sam had promised herself that, if he didn’t
slow down of his own accord, she’d say something. That had been nearly an hour
ago, and she’d changed her mind in the meantime. She was plodding on doggedly.
Two could play at this game. If he expected to wear her down, he’d got his
facts wrong in a big way. Ah, Farrell could have him, foul moods and all! …
Damn, but she wished she knew what had got into him!
They climbed
down to the mouth of a glacier, a wide dome of translucent, unreal blue,
arching over a clear stream that issued from deep within the ice. The descent
was murderous. Finally, blessedly, the Colonel stopped in the field of boulders
that stretched away from the cavern and lined the stream. Sam stifled a gasp of
relief.
O’Neill spun
around. “As I recall, Major, yesterday I offered to send you back. You insisted
on staying. So don’t complain now.”
“And as I
recall, Colonel, I didn’t complain!”
“No, you just
slowed me down for the past three hours!”
“Then, with
respect, sir, you should have said something!” She’d had just about enough of
this, and to hell with insubordination. “Dammit, sir!
At least have the courtesy of telling me what I did to piss you off like that!
What the devil’s the matter with you?!”
“Oh, wouldn’t
you like to know that?! So that you can run to Miss Farrell again and have
another intimate chat about your CO’s personal problems, I presume?”
For a second
or two, Sam just stood there, shell-shocked. “What on earth are you talking
about, Colonel?” she whispered at last.
“I’m talking
about you discussing me with the nearest stranger!” shouted
O’Neill. “I’m talking about a breach of trust, Major! That’s what I’m talking
about!” His voice carried a fierce edge of disappointment.
As it
happened, Sam knew exactly how he felt. “How dare you, sir?! How dare you for a
moment assume that I would do something like that? Or Daniel?
I suppose that’s why you tore into him this morning?”
“What did you
expect me to do? Congratulate you two?!” His defiance was crumbling ever so
slightly.
“Colonel,
please! Is it really so difficult to believe us rather than that little
witch?!”
He stared at
Sam, arms tightly folded across his chest, as though to protect himself. “Right now I don’t know who or what to believe,
Carter.”
He could be
so irritatingly obstinate! What does it take, sir?! … Ouch!! That foot hurt!
And she was feeling sick again … Ignore it, Carter! Think of something else …
That rock formation over there looked kinda funny … Naquada? Maybe … What the
…?! Oh no, Colonel! You’re not going to walk away from this! No way!
“Sir, listen
to me, please!” The urgency in her tone made him turn back. She carried on.
“Sir, yesterday, on the slope, Daniel said something about how he couldn’t
remember the last time he’d seen you look this happy. Farrell overheard it,
asked Daniel to explain. He ignored her. Then, last night while I stood watch,
she tried to pump me for information. I was about to tell her to mind her own
business, when you turned up. That’s all. I don’t know what she said to you,
but I swear to God it’s either pure conjecture or she’s got it from someone
other than us. Can I sit down now, please, sir?” Sam swayed.
Jack grabbed
her arm and eased her onto a flat rock. “For cryin’ out loud,
Carter! Why didn’t you say something?!” The
look she gave him made him wince. “How the hell do you put up with a pig-headed
idiot like me?”
“Oh, I don’t
know, sir … As far as pig-headed idiots go, you’re quite endearing …”
“I’m sorry,
Sam …” He stood there, restlessly bouncing on his toes, unsure of what else to
do or say.
“It’s okay …
For God’s sake, Colonel, sit down, you’re making me nervous!” She patted the
rock next to her and he sat. “You mind telling me what Farrell said, sir?”
“Oh … We got
talking, well, she did, mostly, and she … she was kinda vague at first … she
kept dropping hints …” He shook his head impatiently, forcing himself to voice
what needed to be voiced. “With what she was saying, Farrell made me think you
or Daniel had told her about Charlie.”
Oh, boy! Sam
sighed. No wonder he’d been in such a state. It had taken him years to even
begin to come to terms with his son’s death … You had to admire Farrell’s instincts.
She’d zeroed in on his weakest spot. And she’d succeeded, however temporarily,
in undermining the Colonel’s trust in his team, isolating him, making him
vulnerable. What on earth was she playing at?! … “What did you do, sir?”
“Told her
about Charlie …” Jack grimaced. “To set the record straight, I suppose.
Normally I’d never … not to somebody like that …
Sam felt an
overwhelming desire to throttle Caroline Farrell. Which
obviously wouldn’t help the Colonel right now. She took a deep breath.
“You’ve been suckered, sir. Next time the fair’s in
town, remind me to take you to a clairvoyant’s booth. They’ll show you how it’s
done. You throw some pretty general bait and wait for the other person to bite
and supply the details.”
“Why, Sam?
Why would she do that?”
“She’s got a
crush on you.”
“She
what?!”
“Last night
she asked me for pointers on how to get you into bed with her …” Oops, Carter!
Care to rephrase that?
The Colonel
didn’t miss a beat. “And which method did you recommend, Major?”, he asked, looking the picture of innocence.
“I … uh …
skirted the issue, sir.” Sam blushed.
“Well, that’s
never gonna get you anywhe-”
God, the
whole place was dancing before her eyes! … The roof of the dome caved in and
crashed into the water. Only then Sam grasped that, this time, it wasn’t she
but everything else around her that was swaying.
A
split-second later a strong arm had clasped her around the waist. She was
dragged away from the boulders that drunkenly reeled and lurched and toppled
everywhere. Through the deafening rumble she heard a shout. “Shift it, Carter!
Run!!”
They made it
back up onto the ice, where at least there was no immediate risk of being
squashed by a rock the size of a delivery truck. Sam limped along, supported by
O’Neill, both of them struggling to maintain their balance amidst the heaving
of the quake. Suddenly, a buzz rose from the glacier, and without warning the
Colonel let go of Sam’s arm. She whirled around just in time to see him fall
and slowly slide over the edge of a crevice that was tearing open next to them.
“Sir! …”
“Carter!
Don’t move!!”
Dropping flat
on her stomach, Sam snatched his right wrist. He managed to grip her free hand
with his left, and they hung on for what felt like an eternity until the
tremors had ceased at last. Jack found a foothold, then another and, with Sam
pulling, hauled himself out of the fissure. They lay in the snow, hands still
clasped.
“Dammit,
Major”, he breathed, gazing at her. “One fine day you’ll actually follow an
order, and with my kind of luck I’ll probably miss it …”
Don’t you
dare cry, Carter! … Sam didn’t notice that her teeth had begun to chatter. The
Colonel was alive and grousing at her, and that was all she cared about for the
moment.
“Hey,
Sam?” He gently squeezed her fingers, and she raised her
head. “Still here, Sam …”, he said with the tiniest
trace of a smile. “Still here …” Abruptly, he let go of her hands and stood up.
“We’d better get back to camp, see if the others are okay … Carter?”
“Yes,
sir?”
“Thank you.”
************************
“Hi, guys!”
Colonel O’Neill carefully deposited his 2IC on a log by the fireside, before
slumping down next to her.
“O’Neill. SamanthaCarter. I am pleased to see you unharmed. We were
concerned for your safety.”
Daniel,
similarly excited as Teal’c, wrapped Sam in a hug. When he let go, he cast a
wary glance at Jack. “Glad to see you back …”
Farrell cut
off O’Neill’s reply. Wrapping a proprietary arm around his shoulders, she sat
down between him and Sam. “Jack, I was so worried! I -”
With a
sneeze, the Colonel slid away from her, tipped over the side of the log and hit
the ground. “Well?” he said into the pregnant silence that followed, looking at
Daniel.
“Well, what?”
“Well, do I
get to pick the language?”
“Santé, mon
colonel!”, Daniel said with a huge grin and
extended a hand. “Peux-je toi aider en lever ton derrière?”
“Twenty-three
languages, and that’s the best you can do?” Jack let himself be pulled to his
feet and joined Daniel on another log, at a safe distance from Farrell. “Danny
… uh … I -”
“It’s okay, Jack.”
“No, it’s not
okay. I behaved like a complete shit this morning, and I’m sorry! … Now, will
you tell me what happened to your face?”
“Oh, that …”
Gingerly, Dr Jackson touched a deep, nasty scratch that ran from the corner of
his eye down the length of his cheek. “I … uh … kinda hugged a tree when all
hell broke loose this afternoon …”
Teal’c’s team
had been caught out by the earthquake much like O’Neill and Carter, except they
hadn’t had the advantage of being in fairly open terrain. Nor had they
discovered any signs of civilisation. It had been an all-round bad day: no
ruins, no artefacts, just rocks of the flying variety, and more of those than
they’d bargained for. The only encouraging news came from Sam who announced
that there probably was a naquada deposit near the stream they’d found.
“And I
suppose you didn’t feel like telling me while we were there, Carter?”
“We were
kinda busy at the time, sir …”
“True … Miss
Farrell?”
Caroline
Farrell hadn’t said a peep since Jack had snubbed her. Now she looked up with
pathetic eagerness. “Yes, Colonel?”
“Anything you
want to add about this quake?”
“It looks
like this place is tectonically unstable …”
“Ya think?!”
“Well, I’m a
geologist, not a seismologist, so you’ll have to take this with a grain of salt
… It’s difficult to say without the proper equipment, but I’m as certain as I
can be that the quake was tectonic, not magmatic -”
“Meaning
what?”
“These
mountains represent the edges of two continental shelves. The shelves are
pushing against each other, the edges rise, and that’s what causes the tremors.
Pretty much like the fault line in
“I get that,
Farrell. But what brought it on now, as opposed to last week or next month?”
“I don’t
know. See, the bad news is that tectonic quakes are unpredictable.”
“Sweet.
What’s the good news?”
“The chances
of us getting caught in a major volcanic eruption are next to zero.”
“Oh, that’s
reassuring … So, how does all this affect the viability of mining operations? I
guess, what I’m asking is if there’s any point in staying and looking for
naquada?”
“Absolutely.
Mining won’t be a problem. We definitely should keep looking!” Farrell put
considerable aplomb behind her last statement.
O’Neill
studied his hands, wondering whether he could trust her motives … Don’t be an
ass, Jack! … “So we stay …” He looked up. “Alright.
What’s for dinner, kids?”
************************
Minor tremors
had recurred throughout the night, too weak to do any
serious damage, but strong enough to keep everyone from getting a good night’s
sleep. Tiredly, Sam heaved herself from her sleeping bag, put on her boots …
well, her left and Teal’c’s right … and crawled out of the tent. Colonel
O’Neill was up already, and so was Farrell, not surprisingly.
Farrell’s
face was long and her greeting a lot less chirpy than it had been the day
before, Sam noted with a small surge of satisfaction. Obviously, she’d been
read the Riot Act … Pitching a sunny “Good Morning” in Caroline’s direction,
Sam hobbled over to the Colonel.
“Morning,
sir!”
“Hi,
Carter! Take a look at this!” Jack pointed at the two suns
that stood above the peak east of the ‘gate. “Notice anything?”
Sam frowned.
“Seems like they’re closer together …”
“A+, Major.
You may sit down.”
Suddenly, she
understood what he was driving at. “Gravitational pull, sir? You think that’s
what brought on the quakes.”
“You’re the
astrophysicist, Carter.”
“It’s
possible, sir. It also means that, if you’re right, the quakes are gonna get
worse the further the suns move into alignment …”
“Morning”,
groaned Daniel, joining their little group.
Jack turned
to him and froze. “Whoa! Danny!! ‘Quasimodo’ mean
anything to you?!”
“That
good, eh?” Half of Daniel’s face was bloated, and his left eye
was swollen shut. Overnight the scratch had become infected, and he seemed to
be suffering a severe allergic reaction on top of it. “I don’t know … Maybe I
should stay away from trees today, hunh?”
Teal’c, who’d
been following Daniel like a momma bear her cub, proclaimed, “DanielJackson has
a fever, O’Neill.”
Daniel shot
him a one-eyed lour.
“Oookay”,
said the Colonel. “This just keeps getting better and better. I love this place
… Teal’c!”
“O’Neill?”
“You and I,
my friend, are going to take Daniel up to the ‘gate and post him back to
Fraiser. I don’t know what he’s got, but it kinda looks like it’s beyond herbal
remedies.”
“But, Jack
…!”
“Daniel! …
This is not open for debate. Do I make myself clear?”
Daniel nodded
dejectedly.
“Thank you! …
Carter?”
“Yes,
sir?”
“It’s your
decision, but if you feel up to it, go back to that stream and see if your
hunch about the naquada is correct.”
“I’ll go,
sir. No problem.”
“Okay. Be
careful, though. And take along Farrell … A little diversion might cheer her
up”, he added, ignoring Farrell’s furious glare.
Gee, thanks,
sir! Just what I needed … But Sam couldn’t risk going on her own, and it was
obvious that it would take both Teal’c and the Colonel to lug Daniel up the
mountain and to the stargate.
************************
From her
resting point at the far end of the second glacier, Sam took a last look at the
three men on their steep march back to the ‘gate. They were about halfway there
by now. Count your blessings, Carter! Trekking across comparatively flat
ground, even with a sulking Caroline Farrell in tow and an unknown number of
tremors ahead, was better than having to make that climb … Her foot ceased
complaining. She started moving again, down a little ridge. When she reached
the bottom, she received a push in the back that almost knocked her over. “What
the hell …!”
“You lying
bitch!” Farrell flew at her, screaming and flailing. “How dare you?! Do you
have any idea of who I am?! You bitch! I’ll -”
“I know,
you’ll tell ‘uncle’!” Sam recovered enough to stop Farrell’s onslaught,
dropping her with a deft throw. She pinned her down by the shoulders. “Now,
let’s get a few things straight, Caroline. First of all, you watch your mouth,
or I’ll wash it out personally. That’s not a threat, that’s a promise.
Secondly, I never lied to you. You, on the other hand, go around telling lies
about me and a team-mate to my CO -”
“Your ‘CO’!!”, hissed Farrell. “Don’t make me laugh! I know exactly what
you two got up to yesterday while you were too ‘busy’ to check out if there was
naquada by that stream! God, it was so obvious!! He couldn’t even look at me
when the two of you came back! And the things he said to me this morning … You
bitch!! You set me up! You jealous bitch!”
“I warned
you!” Sam took a fistful of snow and shoved it in Farrell’s face. “Not that I
have to justify myself to you, Miss Farrell, but if you have to know, yes, I
was busy as hell! Busy undoing the damage you’ve done. Whatever it was the
Colonel said to you, I reckon you deserved it! And now I suggest you start
acting like a grown-up, and do what we’ve come here to do!” With that, she got
to her feet and stomped off.
“Oh, I will!”
Farrell yelled after her. “And I’ll make you regret this!”
“Sure you
will”, muttered Sam … Holy Hannah! Farrell wasn’t just spoilt, she was
seriously disturbed. Like Jonas … The ranting, the fury, the need to control,
to manipulate, so like Jonas … Jonas, in the throes of irrational jealousy,
using the Colonel as a pawn to force Sam into obedience … God, she hated this!
************************
Jack had
watched Carter and Farrell disappear down the little ridge and a sudden sense
of unease rippled through him. The scene this morning had been ugly. He’d stood
last watch, and Farrell had turned up halfway through it. She'd practically
thrown herself at him … Might have known it, Jack! Carter warned you … Not at
his diplomatic best at that hour of the day, he’d
resorted to telling Miss Farrell a few home truths. Slick move!
He ran uphill
to catch up with Daniel and Teal’c.
************************
Sam and
Farrell made good time. At most, it would be another half-hour until they reached
the stream. Sam had given that near-fateful crevice a wide berth, and was
approaching the mouth of the glacier from further below, following a rocky
outcrop that jutted from the ice. Farrell lagged behind, cloaked in resentful
silence. Just as well! … Ahead, she could see the fringes of the glacier, and
the boulders by the stream.
She heard the
rumble moments before she felt the quake. The ice began to moan and twitch
under her feet in a mad cakewalk. Stones shook loose from the ledge above and
peppered her. Sam ducked and raised her arms to protect her head, but kept
walking. With a sharp crack, a crevice split open in front of her and was
pushed shut almost immediately. Farrell squealed. Sam whirled around and saw
her stumble and hunker like a cornered rabbit. She
staggered back, pulled her up. “We can’t stop here! Too dangerous! Move!”
Verifying
that Farrell was behind her, Sam made for the stream. It had to be over soon!
None of the other tremors had lasted this - … Searing pain at the back of her
head. A stab of nausea. Knees
buckling. Black.
************************
By the time
they dialled up Earth, Daniel was too ill to launch even a feeble protest. In
fact, he had been dangerously docile all along, and that scared Jack more than
anything … What would it take, once, just once, for a mission to go according
to plan?! … His fruitless line of questioning was interrupted by the stargate
whooshing into action. He punched the iris code into his GDO, then helped Daniel stand up.
“Come on,
Danny. Doc Fraiser’s waiting: nice warm bed, nice big needle in your butt, no
trees anywhere in sight.”
Daniel
collapsed, gasping for air.
Jack and
Teal’c picked him up, carried him the few steps to the ‘gate, placed him into
the vortex, and watched him disappear.
“SGC, do you
read me?”
“Go ahead,
Colonel!”, came
“Have Dr
Fraiser standing by, General. Daniel’s coming home, and he’s in bad shape.” In
the background, Jack heard shouts of ‘Medical team to the ‘gate room, stat!’.
The
General again. “What happened, son?”
“Dr Jackson
fought a tree and lost … uh … We’re having a little earthquake-problem here,
sir. Nothing too critical at this time, but it could get worse. I want the lab
guys to look at those survey data again. Carter and I think there might be a
solar alignment in the offing, and we’d like to know how that’ll affect seismic
activity.”
“Consider it
done, Colonel. Where is Major -”
“Thank you,
sir. Carter and Farrell have gone back to a site we found yesterday. Could be a naquada deposit.”
“Good work,
son. How’s Miss Farrell doing?”
“Having her
nuisance value defined. Frankly, General, she’s a pain
in the neck …”
“Colonel,
kindly keep in mind who and what her father is!”
“I’m thinking
of nothing else, sir!”, Jack snapped angrily.
“That’s
enough,
At that
moment a new quake began rocking the ‘gate, more violent than anything they’d
experienced before. “Uh … General? Things are getting
a tad dicey around here … I’ll make contact again in an hour.” The event
horizon flickered and dissolved.
Once the
tremor stopped, O’Neill sat down heavily … Hope Danny’s gonna be okay … The kid
had looked awful, struggling to breathe, his face a swollen red and purple
lump. Jack furtively clenched his hands to conceal their trembling. “Well,
we’ve got an hour to kill, Teal’c. How about a nice game of ‘I Spy’? I spy with
my little eye something that is … white!”
Teal’c wasn’t
fooled for a second. He cocked his head, gazed at his friend. “DanielJackson
will be restored to health, O’Neill. Dr Fraiser is most reliable in that
respect.”
“Yeah,
Teal’c. I know.”
************************
The news they
received sixty minutes later weren’t good. General Hammond informed them that,
according to the lab team, it wouldn’t be a mere solar alignment. It was going
to be the whole nine yards: a full planetary alignment.
“Syzygy”,
said Jack and whistled through his teeth.
“That’s
right, Colonel, syz - … How do you know?!”
“As Major
Carter would advise you, sir, I don’t have a telescope on my roof just to look
at the neighbours … General? How is Daniel?”
“Not
terrific, son. He’s on antibiotics, plus antihistamines
and oxygen, to counteract the asthma attacks he’s having. Dr Fraiser is working
on it. I’m sorry.”
“Thanks,
sir.”
“Colonel.
Our people predict that seismic activity will increase massively. I want you
and Teal’c to get Major Carter and Miss Farrell and come back immediately.
That’s an order!”
“My
pleasure, sir. We’re on our way back to camp now. O’Neill out.”
************************
Dodging
aftershocks and small avalanches caused by them, Jack and Teal’c reached camp
just over an hour later and found Caroline Farrell by the ashes of the fire. Alone.
“Farrell?
Where’s Major Carter? … Carter?! Carter!!”
Farrell
raised her head. On her face stood the blank look of shock.
Oh no … No! …
Don’t be ridiculous, Jack! They’ve had words, and Carter’s gone into the woods
to cool off …
“Farrell. Where. Is. Major. Carter?”, he asked again, slowly, carefully, stressing every
syllable as though that would conjure up the answer he wanted to hear.
Farrell
pointed west, across the snowfields. “Out there”, she whispered.
Panic hit him
so abruptly and so brutally that Jack struggled to bring it under control. When
he spoke at last, his voice sounded deceptively even. “Where, Caroline? You’ve
got to show me. You’ve got to show me the way.”
“No!!” A wail fraught with terrified hysteria. “I can’t!”
“Yes. Yes,
you can. You have to. We’ll get Sam, and then we’re going home.” He took
Farrell’s arm. “Come on. Let’s go.”
Following
Farrell, they practically ran along the track the two women had laid earlier in
the day. Leaden clouds were pushing over the mountains, bulging with snow and
obscuring the tallest peaks. The first tiny flakes began to fall, settled on
Jack’s face, melted with a soft tickle. He had a spontaneous memory of Carter
digging him out of a snowdrift, yelling, her voice
high with anger. The tone she reserved for, With
respect, sir!,
telling him off when he’d committed something especially moronic. When had that
been? Two days ago? Three? It seemed like a lifetime …
Oh God, let her be alright! … Please, let her be alright …
They had to
be near the stream now. O’Neill recognised the points of interest, like that
delightful grouping of rocks over to the left … Sure enough,
Farrell was slowing down, turning indecisively, and finally extending an arm.
“There”, she mumbled.
Oh no. No can
do, Farrell! You’re wrong. I don’t see Carter. Farrell, you’re wrong! Wrong,
wrong, wrong …
Teal’c walked
in the direction Farrell indicated. “O’Neill!”
Mechanically,
Jack followed the voice. He came to a halt by Teal’c’s side, gazing into a
half-closed crevice. Four or five yards down lay Sam’s backpack, partly trapped
between the walls of ice, straps torn. The snow next to it was stained dark. Blood.
“I was scared
of the quake, and she came back for me”, Farrell stammered. “We walked on. Sam
led the way. Stones flying everywhere. One of them
must have hit her. She stumbled, then the crevice opened, and she was gone …
Like the ice swallowed her … When I got there, it had begun to close again. All
that was left was the pack … I couldn’t reach it … Sam never even called out …”
She was sobbing now.
Wordlessly,
Jack shrugged off his backpack and made ready to climb into the fissure. A
firm, unyielding hand grabbed the collar of his jacket.
“Let me go,
Teal’c! Dammit, don’t you get it? Sam’s down there!! Let me -”
With immense
kindness, the
Jack never
knew that the pitiful scream he heard had come from him.
************************
Swiftly, silently, completely, darkness falls.
Westwards, inky blackness blots out all trace of colour. Beyond the hills to
the north, a man-made orange blister of city lights inflates, smothering infant
stars that struggle for ascendancy and lose.
Trembling
with cold now, he turned and began his descent, step by step feeling his path
through the dark. Tomorrow morning he would do what he’d come out here to do.
************************
General
Hammond, Dr Fraiser, Lieutenant Simmons, and the usual complement of SFs and
medics had assembled in the embarkation room. The initial relief on their faces
was replaced by concern when they realised that SG-1 had arrived without their
second-in-command.
“Colonel!
Where is Major Carter?! I thought I’d made myself clear!”
Colonel
O’Neill fought to stand to attention. “General Hammond, sir! I regret to -” His
legs gave and he nearly fell. Steadied by Teal’c, Jack pulled himself upright
again. “Carter’s … not coming back, sir”, he whispered. “I’m sorry. I should
have -”
A brace of
medics guided them through the corridors to the infirmary. As though we didn’t
know the way, O’Neill thought wearily, trying hard not to weave from wall to
wall. Fraiser had stayed beside him, silent and protective. The sight of beds,
curtains, and medical equipment brought the sudden, guilty recollection of
Daniel … Oh God, Jack, you selfish bastard! What kind of a friend are you?! …
“How’s Danny?” he asked softly … Please, Janet, no more bad news …
“He’s out of
the woods, Colonel. I’ll discharge him tomorrow.” Janet gave a small, forlorn
smile. “It was touch and go for a while, but he’s awake now, and he knows
you’re back. He’ll want to see you all …” She trailed off, biting her lip. “Sit
still now, sir. Let me have a look at you.”
Fraiser had
the good sense not to ask him how he felt, and Jack was grateful for it. She
was bound to have a fair idea, anyway. Sam had been her best friend. He
patiently submitted to the doctor’s prodding, not saying another word.
At last,
Janet seemed satisfied. “Okay, Colonel. Nothing a few days’ rest wouldn’t cure
…”
Jack
flinched. Wrong, doctor. No amount of rest’s gonna cure this …
She caught
his reaction, cringed. “Sorry, sir”, she mumbled. “You can go and visit Daniel
now, if you like. He’s down at the far end, where it’s quiet … Colonel? I
wouldn’t tell him yet!”
Naturally,
that strategy had lasted all of three minutes. It hadn’t been for want of
trying, but even drugged and exhausted, Daniel was nothing if not perceptive.
Jack had no idea that it was his very control that had given the game away.
Daniel had seen that studiously impassive façade one too many times.
************************
Two days of
fatality reports and debriefings. While they were taping his, Teal’c’s, and
Farrell’s statements, Jack had caught himself searching for the first stirrings
of confusion. Caught himself begging for the same
glimmer of uncertainty that, during those dreadful days when they believed
they’d seen Daniel burn to death, had alerted them to the fact that he might be
alive after all. This time, however, no doubt arose. By the end of it, the
Colonel had repeated the words “Major Carter was killed in the quake; we were
unable to retrieve her body” so often that, somehow, it sank in. Sam was dead.
The more
inescapable that truth became, the more Jack shut himself off. Cold, crippled,
desperately wounded, terrified of going home and getting drunk enough to allow
himself to feel, he stayed on base, spending hours over paperwork, obsessively
crossing ‘t’s and dotting ‘i’s.
Anything to stop himself from thinking, from feeling, from
confronting the loss.
On the third
day after their return, he insisted on going over astronomic and seismic survey
data for P2W 873 and stood poring over the charts with Daniel and two technicians.
One of them pointed out a rat’s tail of mathematical formulae and launched into
a convoluted discourse. “The figures here represent the overall increase in
gravitational forces caused by the syzygy versus the gravitational pull exacted
by a regular planetary constellation. From that we’ve extrapolated a
probability estimate by which -”
“For God’s
sake, speak English!” barked O’Neill. “Daniel? Somebody?
Go and get Carter in here, I need her -”
He stopped
himself, turning white as a sheet. The technicians froze in embarrassment, but
Daniel looked at him with boundless compassion, and that was more than Jack
could take. He ran from the lab and stormed down the halls with nowhere to go.
In his wake he left a score of rattled personnel who’d already been given the
sound advice that, these days, the safest place to be was as far away as
possible from Colonel O’Neill.
Eventually he
holed up in a deserted storage room. Sitting on the floor, shuddering, knees
hugged tightly to his chest, he stared into the darkness … Don’t let it happen,
Jack! Keep it down, bury it, don’t let it out. It’ll
hurt too much if you let it out. Don’t let it happen … He closed his eyes and
started rocking gently … Bury it … Bury it … Bury it …
Which
was how Daniel found him half an hour later. He knelt
beside his friend and carefully touched his arm. “Jack? … Jack, it’s -”
Jack clutched
the front of Daniel’s shirt. “Danny … she’s dead … Sam’s dead …”, he whispered, shaking with pain.
“I know,
Jack. I know …” Daniel took him in his arms.
Finally at
last, Jack wept.
************************
That night,
he decided to drive to
And he needed
time on his own, away from the SGC, away from the cold, away from that cursed
heap of snow that was
The first
night of the trip he’d spent in a run-down motel in some godforsaken town in
The following
afternoon he’d ended up on a remote little beach in
************************
Just before
lunchtime the next day, Colonel O’Neill rang the doorbell of a suburban house
on the outskirts of
“Mr Mark
Carter?”
“Yes. Who the
hell are you, and what do you want?”
“I … come
about Samantha …”
“We got the
letter, so you might as well take a hike.”
Letter?
Had to have come from the General … “Mr Carter, I’m here because … I felt that
Sam’s family needed more than just a letter … I served with her -”
“Well, isn’t
that dandy? Then maybe you can elaborate on how anybody can get killed in a
training accident while doing research on deep-space radar telemetry?! Go on,
say your piece. A few more lies won’t matter now. Sam’s dead, in case you
hadn’t noticed!!”
Oh, I’ve
noticed alright … every minute, every second … ‘training accident’?! For cryin’
out loud, General, couldn’t you have come up with something convincing at
least? … Jack couldn’t possibly tell the truth, couldn’t confirm that he
deserved every last ounce of the bitterness and loathing he heard in Mark’s
voice because he’d allowed Sam to stay on some planet that didn’t even have a
name. “Mr Carter, I can’t tell you how sorry I am about Sam …”,
he said quietly, inadequately.
“What’s going
on out there?” Jacob Carter appeared in the door behind his son. His face lit
up a fraction when he recognised the visitor. “Jack! Good to see you. Come on
in!”
“Jacob …”
“Dad, this is
my house, and I don’t want him here!”
“For God’s
sake, Mark! He was a friend of your sister’s! Come on, Jack …”
“No. Jacob,
please! I understand.”
In the end,
he and Jacob went for a walk in a nearby park. After a long while, Jack turned
to Sam’s father and broke the silence. “When did you arrive?”
“Yesterday.
George Hammond contacted the Tok’ra, and they sent me back. He told me … what
happened. Then I flew out here straightaway. Mark’s taking it badly. In a way,
he holds me responsible. Again … How are you holding up?”
“I’m fine …”
Jacob smiled
briefly. “Sam always said you were a lousy liar … I have to agree, you know…”
“For what
it’s worth, Jacob, I wish to God it had been me … It should have been me. It
was my fault.”
When the
reply came, Jack looked up in surprise. It was the resonant voice of Jacob’s
symbiote that answered. “Samantha would not want you to blame yourself. She
cared greatly about you.”
“I should
have sent her home, Selmak. She was injured.”
“She decided
not to go, and for good reason. Do you blame her?”
“No!”
“Then do not
blame yourself.” Jacob’s head dropped, and when he lifted his eyes again, their
glow had faded, and his voice was his own. “Selmak is right. It wasn’t your
fault. And about the other thing, too: Sam thought the world of you.”
“I … I miss
her, Jacob … God, I miss her …”
************************
Two days
later, O’Neill was back at the SGC, marginally calmer, marginally more
approachable, but still not knowing where to turn or what to do. The funeral
would be held in a week, and they’d be burying an empty coffin. General Hammond
had tactfully attempted to broach the subject of Sam’s replacement, and Jack
had simply stood up and walked out on him. He wasn’t ready even to think about
anyone taking her place, and he very much doubted that he’d ever be.
Powerless to
act differently, Jack watched himself still driving people away in a
self-defeating attempt to protect them from his grief: Teal’c, Janet, Feretti, Hammond. The only one to keep coming back with typically
dogged tenacity was Daniel. Daniel who guessed why Sam’s
death was so soul-destroying, even if Jack never admitted it. Daniel who, having lost one friend, dreaded the prospect of losing
another. Daniel who saw to it that Jack ate, slept,
breathed, sometimes even talked.
Daniel
who, four days before the funeral, tore into Jack’s office, without knocking as
usual and with Teal’c in tow.
“Jack, we
need to talk!”
O’Neill
winced. Jack, we need to talk! was Jacksonese for Let’s have an argument!, and he sure as
hell didn’t feel up to that. “Can’t it wait?”
“No, Jack.
Check this out!” Daniel planted a GDO on the desk in front of Jack.
“It’s a GDO. So? Am I to be amazed or bewildered or thrilled or what?”
“It’s Sam’s GDO.”
“’Was’,
Danny”, Jack replied automatically. “Past tense.
You’re the linguist, you should know. It was
Sam’s GDO …” He picked up the small device, turned it in his hands. It was Sam’s GDO. There was the tiny crack
in the casing from when he’d come crashing down a flight of stairs on P3X
something-or-other and landed on top of her. Jack smiled. She’d been pulling
his leg for days after - … Abruptly, as though it had scorched his fingers, he
set down the GDO. “I repeat: So?”
“Dammit,
Jack! Use your head! What’s it doing here?”
“What do you
mean?”
“Teal’c found
it among the gear you guys brought back with you from P2W 873. How did it get
there? Sam never … never! … took it off. You know that!”
“Maybe she
did take it off that time.”
“Yeah,
sure! I can see it! She takes it off, hands it to Farrell
for safekeeping, and then jumps into the crevice … Don’t be wilfully obtuse,
Jack!”, Daniel spat.
His brutality
was rewarded by a timid trace of hope creeping into Jack’s eyes. “You’re saying
that Farrell’s been lying to us?”
“Even if Sam
had left it off accidentally, which I don’t believe for a second, you didn’t go
back to the camp, right? Which means the only way Farrell or
anyone else could have got that GDO is directly from Sam. You bet I’m
saying that Miss Farrell is lying.”
Teal’c spoke
up for the first time since entering Jack’s office. “I concur with
DanielJackson, O’Neill.”
Jack clenched
his hands … Oh God, kids, I know what you’re thinking.
It’s written all over your faces. For your own sakes, don’t go there, please! …
“Teal’c, you’ve seen that crevice. So have I”, he whispered. “The chances of
Sam being alive -”
“In other
words, you’ll do nothing, except sit here, feeling sorry for yourself!” burst
out Daniel. “Are you really such a coward, Jack?! Are you really so afraid of
hope?”
Oh yes,
Danny, I really am such a coward … I’m scared stiff of hope … I can’t
lose her all over again …
“I never said
I’d do nothing, Daniel. But the fact that Farrell’s lying can mean any number
of things. It could mean that Sam didn’t fall but was pushed … I’m going to
find out. And if I find out that Caroline Farrell is in any way responsible for
Sam’s death, then God help her!”
“What do you
intend to do, O’Neill?” Teal’c enquired.
Jack
shrugged. “I’ll get on a flight to DC and pay a visit to Miss Farrell.”
“Can I be of
assistance?”
“Uh … Thanks,
Teal’c, but no, thanks. I need to do this on my own … Well, actually, there’s
one thing you can do. Both of you. Don’t breathe a
word of this to
“Indeed,
O’Neill.”
“Sure, don’t
worry.” Daniel gave a faint grin. For a moment there, Jack had sounded like
Jack again.
Colonel
O’Neill requested and was granted two days’ leave and caught the red-eye flight
to
************************
The flight
had been delayed, and it was mid-morning when he arrived at
Oh! … Not
quite, but close enough. His face was drawn, he hadn’t shaved in he’d forgotten
how long, and his eyes were bleary, from lack of sleep and … yeah, well … “Yuck!”
he mumbled at his reflection, deciding to buy some shaving gear and a tooth
brush and freshen up before he went anywhere near the Farrells’
home. In his current state he’d probably be shot on sight by the butler.
A shave and a
wash had improved things somewhat. Maybe should have worn uniform after all …
Then again, if his little scheme went wrong, he’d be up shit creek without a
paddle, and he’d rather be there in civilian clothes. He left the terminal to
pick up the car he’d rented.
Taking a few
wrong turns along the way, O’Neill finally found the Farrells’
Jack had no
idea where or what he’d eaten. Some diner, some burger … It didn’t matter, just
as long as it kept him going. Tired as he was, he didn’t sleep, though. Every
time he closed his eyes, he was back on the glacier, staring into the crevice.
So he sat in the car, trying to relax and not to think of Sam. Sam’s frozen
body, shrouded in blue ice … With a low moan, he
bolted from the car and started running. Sprinting at full tilt until every
gasp of breath threatened to sear his lungs and his muscles ached so much that
he’d scream if he took another step.
Panting, he
looked around to get his bearings and realised that he’d ended up only about a
block away from the Farrell mansion. He checked his watch. Just before three
o’clock. Show time.
************************
The Farrells didn’t have a butler, they had a housekeeper, and
she was unarmed, Jack was pleased to see. Then again, with the glare the woman
had on her, she probably didn’t need a gun. She killed on contact.
“I’m here to
see Caroline Farrell.”
The
housekeeper stared at him as though trying to determine just how many species
of wildlife he concealed on his person. “I don’t think Miss Farrell -”
“My name is
Jack O’Neill. Caroline knows me. Will you tell her I’m here? Please?”
She slammed
the door in his face.
Five minutes
later it was flung open again by an outraged Caroline Farrell in a clingy
little shift of a dress, her long legs bare. “Colonel O’Neill! I am so sorry! I
can’t believe Jenkins left you standing outside. Please, do come in.”
“Hi,
Caroline”, he said and entered. So the gargoyle was called Jenkins. Wonder what
her first name is … Ethel? Charity? … Charity’s good.
Charity stood in the rear of the entrance hall and scowled disapprovingly … Fly
back to your cornice! Shoo!
“Jenkins,
we’ll be in my suite. Bring us some coffee. And lighten up!” Miss Farrell
ordered, taking Jack’s arm. “I’m so glad you came. I was about to get in touch
with you, see how you were doing … Let’s go upstairs.”
O’Neill
followed along, fighting something so close to physical revulsion, it scared
him … Hathor … Oh yeah, that train of thought is
really helpful! … Don’t lose it, Jack! Tossing your cookies won’t do … Please,
Sam, help me out here! Sam holding him after he’d come out of cryo, after he’d killed Hathor …
Better, even if the memory hurt beyond belief.
Farrell
ushered him into a large, bright sitting room on the second floor, installed
him on a sofa, and bided her time until Jenkins arrived with the coffee. She
sent the housekeeper on her way, poured, handed him a cup, and sat down next to
him. They made small talk for what seemed like ages, until Jack thought he must
be going insane.
Finally,
Farrell came to the point. “So, Colonel, what brings you here?”
“Jack … the
name’s Jack”, he said, taking her hand. “Caroline, I think I need to explain
something to you. See, what happened between us that morning … I didn’t have a
choice …” He left it hanging, waiting for Farrell’s reaction. In the back of
his mind he heard Sam’s voice again, filled with a mix of concern and anger:
‘You’ve been suckered, sir … You throw some pretty general bait and wait for
the other person to bite and supply the details.’
“Jack, I
know. I’m not blind. I could see how unhappy you were all along. It must have
been so difficult for you … You don’t have to worry anymore. It’s over. All
over now …” Farrell tilted her head, smiling at him.
Jack’s lips
touched hers, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him down with her …
I’m sorry, Sam … Farrell bit him. He flinched, and she deepened the kiss … Oh
God, he hated this! Hated it, hated it, hated it … At
last she came up for air. Jack forced himself to look at her. “Wow! Caroline -”
“Shh. You
don’t have to say it.” She put a finger on his mouth. “I know I’m good, Jack.
I’m good for you. She suspected it. That’s why she was so jealous. What do you
think … shall we take this to the bedroom?”
I’d rather
die! … Not now, not ever! … “Caroline, maybe …”
“Jack,
there’s nothing to be afraid of. She can’t come back. I’ve made sure of that …”
So it was
true! He drew a sharp breath and tried to control his trembling, praying that
she’d mistake it for the thrill of arousal. “How?” he murmured softly.
Farrell
giggled. “I took her code-thingy, whatever you call it. You know,
the one that gives the signal to open the iris …”
“But
why? I mean, she was dead, anyway …”
“Oh
no. I hit her with a rock and she passed out. I thought
about killing her … You should have heard the things she said to me! … But then
I thought, no, why not leave her where she can’t get in anybody’s way ever
again? … All I had to do was stage a tragic accident … Jack?”
He’d backed
away from her, pale as death.
“Jack, what’s
the matter?
“I have to go
… I …” His voice cracked. “I have to go
… bring home a friend … If she’s still alive …”
It took
Farrell a few seconds to understand that he’d tricked her. “You son of a
bitch”, she hissed. “You miserable bastard! By God,
you’ll regret this, you hear -”
Unsteadily,
he rose to leave.
Caroline
Farrell started shrieking like a banshee. Within moments the door flew open and
the gargoyle flew in, followed by a distinguished-looking elderly man who
pointed the business end of a 9mm Beretta at O’Neill. Obviously, Jenkins had
conveyed her misgivings to the master of the house.
“Who are you,
and what the hell are you doing in my daughter’s rooms?” roared Martin Farrell.
Jack slowly
raised his hands.
Before he
could say anything, Farrell had flung herself at her father. “Oh,
daddy! Daddy! It was awful!” she sobbed. “Daddy!
He … he tried to rape me …”
“Wha-”
“Shut up!”
the Senator barked at O’Neill. “One word out of you and I’ll shoot you like a
dog, I swear!” He turned to Jenkins. “Call the police, Charity!”
Jack’s eyes
widened. Amidst the bouts of nausea that shook him, he felt an impossible,
perverse urge to burst out laughing. But Farrell Senior
looked way too trigger-happy to argue with, and so he bit his tongue while Miss
Caroline supplied the lurid details, fictitious but hugely imaginative.
************************
By the time
the police arrived, the Senator had been informed about who exactly O’Neill
was, and things started getting really interesting. While Miss Farrell made her
statement to the officers, her father was on the phone to the President who,
undoubtedly, would make General Hammond his next port of call.
Jack was
Mirandized, held at the
As was to be
expected, General Hammond hit the roof when he heard who was at the other end
of the line. “Have you completely lost your mind, Colonel?! I’ve just come off
the phone with the President, and Senator Farrell’s been ranting at me for half
an hour before that. Do you realise what you’ve done?! Do you -”
“General!
Please, listen to me! I didn’t touch that woman, I swear! … Well, we had a
smooch, but that was consensual, at least on her part -”
“I don’t want
to hear it, Colonel! Whether or not you tried to rape Miss Farrell is for a
court-martial to decide -”
“You can’t
honestly believe I’d do something like that … Dammit, sir!”
“With the
state you were in when I last saw you, I’d believe anything. You told me
yourself that Miss Farrell was ‘a pain in the neck’. Your own
words, Colonel. Went and sorted her out, did you?”
“No!! … General, please -”
“Apart from
anything else, you’ve compromised this facility. It’ll be next to impossible to
keep this out of the media. Do you have any idea of what’ll happen if they get
wind of what we’re doing here?”
Nerves and
tiredness finally got the better of O’Neill. “Oh yes, sir! I have a very good
idea. The last poor bastard who got wind of it died in my arms. Sir! And I did
not compromise anything. You did that, General, the President did, and Senator
Farrell, by allowing an unhinged, spoilt little girl to go on a classified
mission!”
“That’s
enough, Colonel! You’ll be picked up by military police in half an hour.
They’ll bring you back here, where you’ll remain in custody.”
“Gen-” Oh
well done, Jack!
************************
Colonel
O’Neill and his watchdogs took a transport plane from Andrews Air Force Base
and reached
Upon arrival
at
“Proud
of yourself, Colonel? Being a bit of a
loose cannon is one thing, but this time you’ve really outdone yourself!
Senator Farrell already has as good as promised that from now on we can go look
for funding elsewhere. That possibility ever cross
your mind? No, obviously not! You’re feeling bad over Major Carter, so why not
bring the whole place down around you? Was that it, Colonel?! Was it?!”
“General!”
O’Neill wished he could stop swaying. At least the MP stood at ease now, and he
didn’t have to genuflect anymore. “I’ve got to go back to P2W 873. Please!
Carter may still be alive -”
“Oh, spare
me!”
“I mean it,
sir! That’s why I went to
Jack was
interrupted by a worried Janet Fraiser. “General, this is enough! Colonel
O’Neill needs rest. Five minutes more of this and he’ll collapse right here at
your desk. And, for God’s sake, can we get rid of those?!” She pointed at the
cuffs.
“Thank you!”
The Doctor put an arm around O’Neill, supporting him. “Come on, Colonel. Let’s
go and get you to bed.”
The MP on
their heels, Fraiser led Jack to a cell and, once there, gave him a quick
check-up. She was about to administer a sedative, when he suddenly grabbed her
wrist.
“Janet,
you’ve got to help me!” he breathed. “I didn’t do what they say I did, I swear.
You’ve got to get me out of here. I have to go back to that planet.
“Yes, sir …”
Janet sighed, her hand covering his. “And now, I want you to lie down and let
this stuff do its job. You need sleep …”
Jack heard
the pity in her voice, knew with a jolt of anguish that she didn’t believe him
either. “Dr Fraiser! Look at me!! … No, bad idea … Don’t look at me! I probably look
like homicidal maniac … Janet, I’m not mad, and I’m not hallucinating. Close
maybe, but not quite there yet. Go and talk to Daniel and Teal’c. Tell them
what I told you, hear what they’ve got to say. Then
come back to me and let me know if you still think I’ve lost it.”
Janet did
look at him. Searching his haunted eyes, she finally nodded. “Okay, Colonel.
I’ll do it. I promise! But you must go to sleep now. If you don’t get any rest,
you’ll be in no state to help anybody.”
She settled
him down, gave him the sedative, and watched as he fell asleep at last. “Good
God …”, she mumbled, and went to find Dr Jackson and
Teal’c.
The MP locked
the cell and took his post outside the door.
************************
Now, if somebody stopped that little dude with the
sledgehammer from thrashing about inside her skull, she might just be able to
open her eyes … A scream had woken her, but she couldn’t say how long ago that
had been. And she couldn’t recall anything before that scream … You gotta find
out what happened, so how about getting up, Carter? … Probably shouldn’t, but
my butt’s freezing to the ground … She’d heard that one before … In another
place with too damn much ice around … The Colonel … Screaming … Sir? …
Sam attempted
to sit up and discovered she could barely move. She also discovered a nasty,
fuzzy thing in her mouth … Yuck! What the hell was that, apart from a gag? Feretti’s
socks sprang to mind … Oh, please! … Okay, Carter. You’re hog-tied, you’re
gagged, your head’s been cracked open: the evidence
suggests you didn’t end up here of your own volition … Farrell! … Farrell,
slapping Sam awake once she’d been trussed up, telling her with vicious
enjoyment that she was in for an extended stay on this planet … Well, tough
shit, Miss Farrell, it ain’t gonna happen! The Colonel won’t leave without me.
She flexed
her wrists to check the give of the tie. Not much. Trust Miss
Caroline to have been an upstanding member of the Girl Scouts. Probably
won a knot-badge or two … And it was decidedly wiser not even to try and
stretch whatever was cinched painfully around her ankles … Hell, it hurt! Cut
right into the swelling … She had to get her hands free! The sharp bit of rock
currently digging into her ribs might do, if only … Wriggling like a caterpillar, she heaved herself around, doing her best to
ignore the sledgehammer going on the rampage again.
After a good
hour of fretting and tearing her wrists across the edge of the stone, the rope
came apart. Minutes later she’d untied her legs and removed the gag … Jeez! It was a sock! Not one of hers, though …
Oh well, Miss Farrell’s feet would get a whole lot colder before this was over,
that much Sam could guarantee. Only now she became fully aware of her
surroundings. A large cave in the ice. Most likely
close to where she’d passed out. Farrell couldn’t have dragged her far.
Supported on one side by solid rock, the cave seemed stable enough, but it
still might be a good idea to get out of here before the next quake. The
tremors had been getting more severe, and she didn’t want to push her luck.
Carefully Sam
stood up, gasping when a wave of dizziness washed over her. Once it had passed,
she took another look around. None of her gear was here. What on earth had
Farrell done with it? … Forget it, get moving, Carter! … Steadying herself
against a wall of ice, she hobbled to the mouth of the cave. Outside it was
snowing, and the light was beginning to wane. She must have been out for at
least three hours. If she wanted to reach the campsite before nightfall, she’d
better hurry.
Shortly
after, Sam stumbled upon the trail she’d made in the morning and found other
tracks leading to a nearby crevice and returning … So they’d come here. What
for? … The tracks branched off a little further along, heading uphill … Odd …
Never mind now, keep going!
When she
approached the campsite at last, she understood that something had to be wrong.
It was practically dark now, and she should have been able to see the shine of
the fire. Sam actually ran the last few hundred yards, only to find the camp
deserted. Farrell’s geological equipment was there, so were the tents, sleeping
bags, and skis, but all the backpacks were gone.
Groggily, she
sat down. She remembered the tracks leading away from her trail, up the
mountain, towards the east, towards … the stargate?! He couldn’t have …
Wouldn’t have! But even if he had, she’d gate to Earth in the morning, and give
him a piece of her mind! Unconsciously, Sam clasped her left forearm … The GDO!
Shit! Shit!!! Where the hell was it? … She must have overlooked it, lost it in
the cave. She’d have to go back. No point in trying the ‘gate without it. All
that would achieve was Sergeant Siler spending a few hours scraping her
sub-atomic particles from the iris, and some technician perhaps concluding that
Major Carter had come knocking at the front door at an inopportune time … Oh
well, a few miles more tomorrow wouldn’t matter now. At least with all the
sleeping bags still here, she wouldn’t freeze to death during the night …
Dammit, sir! How could you?! What happened to ‘Nobody gets left behind’?!
************************
Sam spent the
night thinking progressively uncharitable thoughts about her CO. Her anger at
him rose proportionally to the new heights the quakes achieved on the Richter Scale. By God, she’d castrate him with a teaspoon when she
got back home!!
She left camp
at first light, cold, hungry, and exhausted. Yesterday’s snow clouds had
drifted away, and the sky was clear once more, promising a bright day. “Be
thankful for small favours, Carter!” she muttered to herself. “More snow’s the
last thing you need!” While searching for the GDO, she might as well check
whether her sunglasses were there, or whether Farrell had dumped them somewhere
with the rest of her gear.
Five hours
later, half of which she’d wasted turning over every stone and chip of loose
ice in the cave, Sam finally had to face the fact that her GDO was gone. So
were her shades, coincidentally. She emerged into the sunlight, momentarily
closing her eyes … Now what, Carter? Dig in and hope for the best. Wait for
them to return. Could at least have pinned up a note, Colonel: ‘Back before you
know it - Godot’! … Despite her rage, she knew he
wouldn’t have left her here without a damn good reason. She just couldn’t think
of one right now … Okay, back to camp, then.
Passing the
trampled area near the crevice again, she decided to have a
reconnoitre and find out what could have been so fascinating about a gap
in the glacier … After all, she had time now, didn’t she? She didn’t have much
else, but time, yeah, there was loads of that! … The tracks led right to the
edge of the fissure, and she followed them, coming to a halt where they did,
taking a look down … Well, what do you know? Her backpack… Her back - …
“Oh, damn!”
It all made sense now. Farrell had been far cleverer than Sam had been willing
to give her credit for. The bloodstains were good, but the torn straps betrayed
a touch of genius. Malevolent genius, but genius nonetheless … There was one
reason, and one reason only, why Colonel O’Neill would leave her or any other
member of his team behind: He’d have to be convinced they were dead. And this
was nothing if not convincing.
Sam sank into
the snow, numb with shock. Suddenly she understood what that desperate scream
had meant. “Oh God, sir”, she whispered. “I’m so sorry … I should have known
better …”
And then the
next realisation hit home. He wouldn’t come back for her. Nobody would. There’d
be a nice funeral in absentia, moving
speeches, a few tears, and then, eventually, life would go on. Because Sam Carter was dead. Well and truly dead.
************************
She’d sat by
the crevice for ages, wrestling with the terror that had gripped her at the
thought of being marooned on this wobbling wasteland of a planet. What
frightened her more than anything was the knowledge that she was completely and
utterly alone. Robinson Crusoe’s island had been crowded by comparison!
At last, Sam
forced herself out of her stupor. Moping wouldn’t help. Here she was, here
she’d stay, so she’d better set about surviving. Someone had to come back
eventually. She’d seen the figures and prognostications for the naquada
deposits. They were too promising to give up on this place just yet.
She’d have to
get that pack. She needed it. There was a small medikit in it, some rations,
some cooking gear, matches, and a Swiss army knife. Possibly an extra pair of
gloves, but she couldn’t say for sure.
The gap was
narrow enough for Sam to wedge herself in and ‘walk’ down. Up would be slightly
more tricky, encumbered by a ruined backpack, but she’d cross that bridge when
she - … Oh hello, sir! Definitely been spending too much time around you! Sam
smiled. She reached the pack and, with her feet pressed against the opposite
wall of the crevice for hold, began pulling. It came free surprisingly easily,
and that was the first positive thing to happen since she’d got up this
morning. Clutching it to her chest with one arm, she slowly, laboriously worked
her way back to the surface. Ten minutes later she flung the backpack onto the
ice and hoisted herself over the edge, panting. So far, so
good.
Back to camp,
to have another, more thorough look around there and see what could be of use.
Sam slung the pack over one shoulder and drudged off across the glacier,
blinking at the relentless dazzle of reflected sunlight as she limped along the
path she’d already trodden once too often for her liking.
This time the
tremor came practically without warning. Jolted off her feet as the world
around her erupted into savage motion, Sam fell. She rolled over the precious
backpack to protect it and lay spread-eagled, digging her fingers and toes into
the ice, praying that it wouldn’t gape beneath her and make Farrell’s scenario
a reality after all. When the shaking petered out at last, Sam heard a rumble,
quiet at first, but steadily increasing in volume. She pushed herself up, never
letting go of the pack. The rumble had grown into a roar by now. Then she saw
it. The whole mountain seemed to be on the move. A massive avalanche had torn
loose from the slope opposite the stargate and came shrieking towards the
valley, the forest, the ledge, the camp … The camp!
“No!” she howled, weeping with frustration and despair.
She still
went back to the site, hoping against hope that there would be something,
anything, she could salvage. The camp had been razed to the ground, wiped away
as though it had never existed. All around lay broken and smashed trees, with
snow, rocks, and chunks of ice caught between them. Sam followed the trail of
devastation, moving further down into the valley, dreading another quake. But
she had no alternative. If rocks and ice could get jammed between the trees,
then maybe, just maybe … After an hour of clambering across fallen trees and
debris, all she’d found was a lone sleeping bag caught in some branches. Well,
better than nothing, anyway. With a dispirited sigh, she rolled up the bag, and
started the long climb up. She’d have to spend the night at the former
campsite. Logic dictated that the chances of a second avalanche in the same
place were slim. There was nothing much left on the mountain to feed one.
Night had
fallen when she reached the ledge. Sam lit a small fire under the overhang at
the back. At least she wouldn’t have any trouble finding firewood for a year or
five … Once the fire burnt steadily, she unzipped the sleeping bag, wrapped it
around herself, and huddled against a rock. Too tired to feel hungry, she saved
the MREs for another day. Sleep. She needed sleep. At the brink of dozing off,
Sam’s eyes suddenly popped open again. She recognised that scent. Of all the
annoying coincidences! It was Farrell’s sleeping bag … Wonderful, Carter! Now
you’re gonna go traipsing around this king-sized iceberg reeking of L’Air du Temps! … Always loathed that smell. Suits Farrell, though: Too sweet
by half! … Why couldn’t she have found somebody else’s sleeping bag?! The
Colonel’s … I’m gonna miss you, sir … I miss you …
************************
She woke late
the next day, shivering with cold and covered in a white fluffy layer. The sky
was overcast and it was snowing heavily, but Sam was grateful for the respite
it gave her face. If she went on squinting for much longer, the crunched-up
look would become a permanent fixture. So what? Does it matter? … Sam sighed.
About time you considered your options, Carter!
If anything,
this last night had proved that she couldn’t stay camped out on the ledge. She
had to find some sort of shelter. The valleys were out of the question for as
long as the quakes persisted … if they ever stopped. Who said they weren’t
simply part of the furniture in this polar bear’s paradise? Colonel O’Neill.
But if his theory was correct, then things would get a lot worse before they
started getting better. Either way, the fact remained that on high ground she’d
be safer than down there, where half a mountain could drop on her at a moment’s
notice. Not exactly spoilt for choice, Sam decided that the cave Farrell had
left her in would be the least dangerous out of a number of lousy
possibilities. The cave it was then.
The first
thing the move required was firewood, and lots of it, because she really could
do without having to make the trek over here every other day. Sam began to
collect armfuls of broken branches and piled them into the sleeping bag. With
any luck the pungent aroma of resin would overlay the stench of Farrell’s
perfume! … Among the debris she discovered a pair of small rat-like creatures,
crushed by a fallen branch. She flung their frozen little carcases into her
pack. “Dinner”, she snorted with a disgusted grimace. “Yum!”
Her MREs wouldn’t last forever, and before long she’d have to start hunting for
food.
Slowly
dragging the bulky bag behind her, she reached the cave at dusk. It had
withstood twenty-four hours of increasingly frequent tremors, and that at least
looked promising. Sam installed herself near the entrance. This way she might
have half a chance of escape if worse came to the worst. She’d skinned and
gutted the rats and roasted them over the open fire. Their meat tasted oily,
putrid, but she forced it down, plagued by tantalising visions of Giuliano’s Pizza Fiorentina.
During the night she dashed outside, retching and heaving, to throw up what
little she’d eaten. So much for rodent à la mode … It continued
snowing.
Sam had to
dig her way out of the cave the following morning. Smart call, Carter! At least
four feet of new snow … She wouldn’t have survived another night on the ledge.
The clouds were parting in places, revealing blue skies and glimpses of the
twin suns, now almost overlapping. Her eyes had started burning again as soon
as she’d stepped from the cave’s shadows. Conjunctivitis, Sam thought, wiping
away the tears that ran down her face. Her head was thudding with pain, her ankle throbbed along in time. Add to that the
heaves that still racked her, and it seemed a good
idea just to take the day off.
************************
In fact, she
took several days off. Lying near the fire, too ill to move, Sam was trapped in
a no-man’s-land of feverish dreams and nightmares. Caroline Farrell’s gloating
face, describing to Sam what would happen … ‘I fancy him … So, you wouldn’t
mind?’ … Yes, I would! God help me, I would! … Jonas, breaking another promise … ‘I’m having
a moment here’ … No! … Don’t kill him, Jonas! I’ll do anything you want … Sir?
Please, can I come home now, sir? … ‘Please, Jack, don’t leave me here’ …
Occasionally she woke up just long enough to throw fresh wood on the embers,
sip some water, swallow a painkiller, eat half of a
precious ration.
On the sixth
day her supply of firewood was almost used up. Sam was feeling better. Not
much, but the fever had dropped, and she was hungry. She knew she had to go and
fetch more wood, perhaps even find some native food she’d be able to keep down.
Groaning, she dragged herself out of the cave, trailing the sleeping bag behind
her. At least the weather was fine. And the suns had parted company. Maybe the
quakes would be coming to an end soon …
Too weak even
to consider taking the long, well-worn route across the glaciers, Sam attempted
a shortcut across gently sloping snowfields that brought her out a good two
hundred yards below the old campsite. There was plenty of wood there. No food,
though …
Early in the
afternoon she started walking back towards the cave. The suns stood high in the
west, the snow throwing back their light in brilliant flashes. Sam squinted,
trying to keep her eyes shut as much as she could. The horrible stinging had
returned, and it was getting more intense … Never mind! You’ll be home soon.
‘Home’! There was a comforting thought! …
She looked up
to get her bearings. Something in her eyes exploded. Sam doubled over and
slapped her hands over her face, keening in agony … Oh God, what was this? No
conjunctivitis she’d ever heard of did that! … Gradually, the worst of the pain
ebbed away. She dropped her hands and opened her eyes a fraction … No! Please,
not that! Not that … She couldn’t see.
************************
On her hands
and knees, still pulling the sleeping bag with the firewood, Sam felt her way
along the trail she’d left earlier that day and finally found the cave again.
Fumbling for wood and striking far too many matches, she managed to relight the
fire and curled up next to it, blinking. There was a dim glow, bizarrely
distorted shapes, blurred beyond recognition, and a whole lot of dark. And that
was it. That was it. Without sight she had no hope of survival. A few days from
now it would be over. She would die. Of starvation or cold or plain loneliness
… I’m sorry, sir. I did try …
************************
Knocked out by the sedative and sheer exhaustion, Jack
had slept for fifteen dreamless hours and woke to find General Hammond standing
in his cell. He sat up with a start, hitting his head against the top bunk.
“Ouch!”
“It’s the
thought that counts, sir …”, mumbled O’Neill, rubbing
his head. “How long have I been out?”
The General
told him.
Colonel
O’Neill swore. “Sorry, sir …” With a pleading look at
“Hold your
horses, son. Dr Jackson’s been giving me an earful while you were asleep, and
so has my CMO. Hell, even Teal’c got loquacious. Kind of.
I’m inclined to believe that there’s something to what you’re saying, but that
that doesn’t change the overall situation, Colonel. You’re under arrest.
However -” Jack had opened his mouth, and the General silenced him with a
stare. “However, Colonel, I’ve sent SG-3 to have a look-see. They’ve shipped
out to P2W 873 five hours ago. We’re expecting them back shortly. In the
meantime, why don’t you go and grab a shower and a change of clothes? You’ll be
under guard, though.”
“Thanks,
sir.” He meant it. All things considered,
“Don’t
mention it.” General Hammond knocked at the door and was let out of the cell.
MP Pint-size
had long been relieved by a sturdier colleague who now entered with a neatly
folded set of fatigues for O’Neill. “Shower, sir?”
Jack nodded.
On the way to the locker room he idly speculated whether his escort had orders
to strip and join him in the cubicle. As it turned out, he was granted a full
ten minutes of hot shower on his own. Not that he was complaining … And clean
clothes, too!
Feeling
slightly more human, the Colonel let himself be locked
up again, and spent the next two hours bleakly staring at the concrete walls,
fighting to keep his impatience in check. His agonising fear he didn’t want to
acknowledge, but it kept punishing him regardless. This was taking too long.
Far too long … Maybe SG-3 had found Sam, and that was why they kept everybody
waiting. Maybe she was injured and had to be carried. Maybe she was dead and
had to be carried … If she’s dead, you’ve killed her, Jack!
When he heard
the door lock release, he jumped to his feet. It was Janet Fraiser, a hopeless
look on her face.
“What?!”
“SG-3 just
came back, sir. They got into a pretty bad quake, but they’ve been to the
campsite … It’s gone, Colonel. Makepeace said it looked like an avalanche had
gone through there days ago. He thinks that, had Sam still been alive, she’d
have come back there, and … They’ve found no trace of her.”
“Dammit,
Fraiser! Makepeace couldn’t find his own butt with both hands
if you lit it for him!! … He didn’t look anywhere except the campsite, did he?”
She remained
silent.
“Did he?!”
“No,
sir. He said he’d been worried about risking his team if
there was another quake, and -”
“I’ve got to
go back myself … Janet, I have to see for myself … Please … Please, help me …”
“What the
hell else do you expect me to do, Colonel?!”
“Get me out
of here.”
Dr Fraiser
shook her head, at the brink of tears. “You know I can’t. Besides, General
Hammond has decided that P2W 873’s off-limits for the time being. It’s too
dangerous.” She left.
“Janet! …”
Half mad with frustration and despair he thrashed the door. The MP’s face
briefly appeared in the window and retreated.
Jack threw
himself on his bunk and turned against the wall.
************************
Some time
later the door opened again to admit Lieutenant Colonel Samuels. “Colonel
O’Neill. I’ve been assigned as defence counsel for your court-martial …”
Dumbstruck for
once in his life, Jack rolled over and stared at the visitor.
“Colonel, as
I said, I’m your defence counsel, and obviously I’m delighted -”
“I bet you
are, Samuels. Who assigned you? Senator Farrell?” O’Neill had found his voice
again.
Samuels’ chest
puffed up by at least two inches. “No, Colonel. Actually, my orders came from
the President.”
“Same
difference”, Jack muttered. “Look, Samuels, thanks for the concern and all, but
why don’t we skip this? I don’t pass ‘Go’, don’t collect my $ 200, and march
directly in front of the firing squad or whatever else Farrell and his buddy
the Prez have lined up for me.”
“No need to
be so despondent, Colonel. Yes, the charges look serious, especially in view of
the identity of the victim … alleged victim. However, there is a way around
this.” Samuels planted himself on a chair.
Oh, swell!
Get comfortable, why don’t you? … O’Neill closed his eyes. “This may come as a
disappointment to you, Samuels, but I don’t give a damn about the charges. I.
Don’t. Care. If you want to make yourself useful, get
me out of here.”
“I’m afraid
that won’t be possible, Colonel. But the good news is that, if you follow my
advice, this whole thing will be over within a week. My understanding is that
Senator Farrell and his daughter are willing, very generously so, to forget
about this sordid affair. Provided that you face up to what you’ve done and
apologise. You’d have to leave military service, I expect, but you’d be a free
man …”
For the
second time that evening Jack hit his head on the top bunk, which did nothing
to assuage his temper. “Samuels, you can tell Senator Farrell and his deranged
vamp of a daughter that hell’s gonna freeze over before I admit to, let alone
apologise for, something I haven’t done!”
“Colonel,
this isn’t helping!”
“Too right it
isn’t.” Jack walked over to Samuels, pulled him to his feet and to the door. He
banged against it. “Room Service!”
The MP’s face
filled the window, apprehensively gawking at Lieutenant Colonel Samuels who was
squirming in O’Neill’s grasp.
“Open the
door! Counsel wants to leave.”
The face
disappeared, the lock released, the door swung open.
Jack shoved
Samuels out into the hall. “See you in court.”
“Colonel, you
have forty-eight hours to think about it. Don’t be …”
The rest of
Samuels’ sentence was drowned out by the slamming of the cell door. Jack was on his own again. Desperate to vent his pent-up anger and
restlessness without damaging himself or the sparse furniture, he launched into
a gruelling string of push-ups.
… 77 …
Farrell’s clever … 78 … gotta to hand it to her … 79 … maybe daddy’s idea … 80
… false confession … 81 … would stop me … 82 … no more awkward questions … 83 …
84 … 85 … better yet … 86 … with me out of the picture … 87 … noone else … 88 …
would ask questions … 89 … or look for proof … 90 … or look for Sam … 91 …
somebody find her … 92 … help me … 93 … find Sam … 94 … 95 … Sam … 96 … Sam …
97 … Sam … 98 … Sam … 99 … Sam … 100 …
“Shit,
Carter! Why can’t you ever just follow an order? … And why the hell do you let
her get away with it, Jack?” He dropped on the floor, cradling his head in his
arms. “Because she’s way smarter than you are”, he whispered … Past tense, Jack
… Maybe … Maybe not …
************************
The guard
outside O’Neill’s cell had changed, and MP Pint-size was back on duty. At about
2230 hours he was approached by an enormous soldier with a funny golden
squiggle on his forehead. Whopper of a tattoo, that! Pint-size had seen Eagles,
he’d even seen himself a Grinning Seal once, but this beat them hands down.
“Airman”,
bellowed Teal’c.
“Yes,
sir.” The MP gulped and stood to attention. The guy wore no
rank insignia, but had the SGC logo on his sleeve. One of the weird bunch that did God knew what umpteen levels down in the
belly of the mountain. The Colonel he was guarding was one of them as well, and
look what he’d got himself into … “What can I do for you, sir?”
“Major
Feretti wishes to see you immediately. You will find him in his quarters on
Level 16. I suggest you make haste. I am under orders to guard the prisoner
during your absence.”
MP Pint-size
didn’t have the faintest idea who this Major Feretti was. What he did have,
however, was the distinct impression that arguing with the mountain of a man
before him might entail dire consequences. “Yes, sir!
Thank you, sir!” He sped off down the corridor.
As soon as
he’d turned the corner, Drs Jackson and Fraiser materialised from the other end
of the hall.
“Hi, Teal’c”,
said Daniel. “Did he buy it?”
“Yes,
DanielJackson. I believe he has purchased it.”
“And you’re
sure Feretti knows what to do?” Janet asked nervously.
Daniel
grinned. “Feretti invented a whole new Prisoner Transport Report Form:
USAF/MP/GT-01. They’ll spend an unforgettable hour filling it in.”
“Oh … okay …
What’s the ‘GT’ stand for?”
“‘Gullible
Twerp’, I think … Uhm … The coast is clear, let’s do it.” Daniel punched the
access code into the security key pad by Jack’s cell, opened the door, and
entered.
O’Neill was
still lying on the floor where he’d crumpled after working himself into a lather with his push-ups. Totally disinclined to find out
what this latest intrusion was all about, he didn’t even turn his head … God, this place was busier than Grand Central Station. Why
couldn’t they just leave him alone?! Time, Sam’s time, was ticking away, and
there was nothing he could do about it.
“Uh … Jack? …
Dropped something?”
Now, that
voice did pique Jack’s curiosity. He rolled on his back and sat up, grateful
for the fact that, by ways of a change, the top bunk was well out of reach. “Danny?! Who let you in? I thought you guys weren’t supposed
to -” He noticed Dr Fraiser and Teal’c hovering by the door. “Doc?
Teal’c? What’s going on?”
Janet
grinned. “Yeah, well … Where it comes to doing things we’re not supposed to do,
we learnt from the master, Colonel. I had a word with Daniel and Teal’c, and -”
“We have come
to liberate you, O’Neill”, Teal’c informed him solemnly.
It took Jack
one look at their faces to know that, whatever the current plan was, it hadn’t
been sanctioned by General Hammond. “Guys, are you sure about this? … If
“Don’t fret,
Jack”, Daniel said with engaging confidence. “If everything works out according
to plan, he’ll never know you’re gone.”
“Well, we’ll
… uh … swap you for one of Janet’s medics -”
“Oh, that’s
brilliant, Daniel! Nobody’s ever gonna notice that!”
“Will you shut
up, Jack?! I haven’t finished! In about thirty minutes the fake Colonel O’Neill
will be struck down by a mystery disease, and Dr Fraiser will see herself
compelled to rush him off to the
Jack had to
concede the point. “Okay … Then what?”
“Is it
correct that you wish to return to P2W 873, O’Neill?”
“Yes,
Teal’c.”
“I see. In
this case we will proceed to the embarkation room.”
“Just like
that?!”
Daniel
sighed. “Jack, we’ve got it covered. Sergeant Siler’s conducting operational
tests on the stargate tonight. They’re dialling up all manner of addresses.
We’ll just slip in the one we need. Siler and his boys won’t say anything.”
O’Neill
scrambled to his feet. “What are we waiting for then?”
A grey-haired
medic, roughly of the Colonel’s build, entered the cell, pushing an emergency
trolley. “You wanted to see me, Dr Fraiser …”, he
said, trailing off in confusion when he realised that, on cursory inspection,
everyone seemed remarkably healthy.
“Aw … You
can’t be serious, Doc! That guy looks nothing like me!”
“This isn’t
the time for vanity, Colonel” the doctor retorted with a brief smile, then
turned to the medic. “Thanks for coming so quickly,
“Janet, I …”
Fraiser
looked up at him. “Save it, sir. Just bring her back, alright? Go!”
“Thanks!” He
rushed through the door, Teal’c and Daniel on his heels. O’Neill came to a dead
stop, and they overshot. “Ah! Gentlemen! I don’t know what you think you’re
doing, but you’re staying here. I’m not gonna risk your lives as well. Is that
clear?”
Daniel nodded
placidly. “’Course, Jack. We’re just coming along to
the ‘gate room, in case you run into anybody. Won’t do if you’re caught
wandering around base on your own.”
“Uhunh.”
Jack eyed the archaeologist dubiously. A compliant Daniel Jackson was a menace
of the first order. His gaze wandered to Teal’c, but the
When MP
Pint-size returned half an hour later, after a thoroughly unpleasant session
with Major Feretti and his PTRF: USAF/MP/GT-01, Dr Fraiser was about to wheel
the prisoner out of his cell. “Wha- … Excuse me,
Doctor, what’s going on here? And where’s the guy that relieved me?”
“Mister, I’ve
got no time for explanations now, and neither has my patient. You’d better come
along, I’ll tell you in the ambulance. Hurry up!” She
rushed past him, a bevy of hassled nurses milling about the gurney.
Pint-size
followed them. Sick or not, the prisoner would have to remain under guard.
************************
After a quick
detour to Dr Jackson’s quarters, for Jack to change into a snowsuit and pick up
the gear Teal’c had put together for him, they reached the blast door outside
the embarkation room.
O’Neill
motioned them to a halt. “Daniel”, he whispered, “if they’re running the ‘gate,
somebody has to be in the control room. Had you thought of that?”
Daniel looked
hurt. “You don’t trust me at all, do you, Jack?”
“Not if I can
help it … That was a joke, Daniel!” he added when he saw
“It’s
Simmons, and you won’t have to get past him. He’ll be only too pleased to see
me …”
Jack raised a
puzzled eyebrow. “Why?”
“You don’t
wanna know, Jack.”
“Daniel?! …
What did you do to Simmons?”
Dr Jackson
pushed his specs up his nose, a sure sign that he was embarrassed. “I put a
hefty dose of laxative in the coffee I brought him a while ago, okay?”
“What is a
laxative?”
“Not now,
Teal’c. Daniel’ll explain it later …” Jack couldn’t suppress a mischievous
chuckle. The thought of the shy, overly correct young Lieutenant caught in the
quandary of either abandoning his post or crapping his
uniform was downright beatific. “Uh … Danny? Maybe you
should go and relieve Simmons, hunh?”
Daniel nodded
sheepishly and left. A minute later O’Neill and Teal’c heard hectic footsteps
hurrying away through the corridor.
Shortly
after, Dr Jackson returned. “Okay. I’ve set the coordinates. It’s dialling up
now.” Then, in the direction where Simmons had disappeared, “If I’m not
mistaken, that’ll be a new record …”
“Daniel,
you’re evil!” the Colonel said, still with a wide grin on his face. “Okay,
let’s get this show on the road.”
The blast
door slid open, just as the wormhole established. Jack’s glee faded in an
instant. This was it.
He turned
back to his friends. “Thank you. Both of you.”
Then Colonel
O’Neill ran into the ‘gate room and up the ramp, past a startled Sergeant
Siler. “This never happened, Siler!” he snapped and flung himself into the
event horizon.
Even before
he’d fully disappeared, Daniel raced through the door and dived under the ramp,
retrieving the pack and snowsuit he’d hidden there hours ago.
Teal’c
followed suit, grabbed his gear and loped up the ramp towards the vortex.
“Sergeant, you will not recall my presence!” He too vanished, and Siler nodded
in resignation.
Next, Dr
Jackson dashed past. By now the Sergeant was operating on the assumption that
SG-1 had come up with a new parlour game. “I know, Doctor, I know: I’ve never
even met you …”
Daniel leapt
through the stargate, a split-second before the wormhole began to destabilise.
************************
Five days
after she’d lost her sight, Sam’s firewood had run out. It had lasted a day
longer than the MREs. At first she’d forced herself to get up, feel her way
around the darkness, move, get her circulation going, get
warm for a little while. She’d lost track of how long she’d been trapped in the
cave, trapped on the planet, so she didn’t know when she surrendered to the relief
of having had the decision of life or death taken away from her. She stopped
moving, stopped fighting. Lying by the ashes of the fire, she stared into
distorted darkness, listening to the voices in her mind, sometimes talking back
to them: Jolinar, her father, Cassie, Janet, Teal’c, Daniel
… the Colonel.
He’d be so
very angry with her for giving up. He always was the one who bullied them into
surviving. Sometimes it seemed they survived simply because they were afraid of
what he’d do to them if they didn’t … ‘Where there’s a will there’s an or’ … Not this time, sir. Fresh out of ‘or’s … Not just a bad day … Bad fortnight … Probably been
that long … Won’t be much longer … Night, sir.
************************
Jack’s second
arrival on P2W 873 was somewhat more explosive than the first. Not only had he
thrown himself into the wormhole at twice the recommended speed and therefore
came hurtling out the other end in a graceless jumble. To top it off,
approximately five seconds after he’d landed face-down on the planet, he
suddenly felt like the planet had landed on him … Oh for cryin’ out loud!
You’re getting old, Jack! Ten years ago you’d have seen this one coming from a
mile off! Compliant, my ass … He groaned.
“Daniel!
Teal’c! One of you should take his boot out of my nostril, and the other one
should stop digging for my kidneys!”
“I apologise, O’Neill …”
“Sorry …”
The offending
items and actions disappeared and ceased, respectively, the weight that had
pinned him down lifted, and Jack pushed himself up. He was livid. “Dammit! Did
you two hear a word of what I said?! As far as Daniel is concerned, I’d be
worried if he hadn’t tried, but you, Teal’c, you really surprise me! I told you
I was going on my own! Now, get up, dial home, and get the hell out of here!
That’s an order!”
“No!” The
refusal came in stereo.
“Daniel! … Teal’c?!”
Daniel’s jaw
took on the stubborn cast O’Neill dreaded. “We’re a team, Jack. A team. You, Sam, Teal’c, me: team. That means if one of us
is in trouble, we stick together, we’re all in it together. Stop trying to go
it alone!”
“Daniel, you
know what this place is like! You remember that much from last time, don’t you?
You might get killed, Teal’c might get killed -”
“Only you can
set things right, isn’t that true, Jack?! And if it kills you, so be it. You don’t deserve help, that’s what you’re thinking,
isn’t it?! Because you’re convinced you’ve done to Sam what Frank Cromwell did
to you in
The Colonel inhaled sharply. With merciless accuracy
Daniel had just pinpointed what had tormented Jack ever since he’d found out
that Sam had been alive. His voice became deadly quiet. “You don’t know what
you’re talking about, Daniel. And even if you did it’d still be none of your
business -”
“You are incorrect, O’Neill.” The
Much as Jack would have wanted to argue with that, he
couldn’t.
Daniel piped
up again. “Can we go now? It’s gonna be dark soon.”
He and Teal’c pulled on their snowsuits, and then the
three men began their descent towards the valley and the old campsite. They
spent the night there.
************************
Jack hadn’t
been able to sleep and rose early. Daniel found him poking around by a rock at
the back of the ledge, where he’d cleared away the snow so carefully it would
have done an archaeologist proud.
“Hi, Jack.
What have you got there?”
“Incontrovertible
proof that Robert Makepeace is an ass! … Look at
this. Tell me what you see!”
“ … Uh …”
Teal’c had
joined them, peeking over the Colonel’s shoulder. “It would appear that these
are the remains of a fire that was lit after the avalanche had occurred,
O’Neill.”
“Thank you,
Teal’c.”
“Oh”, said
Daniel. “So …?”
“So, Sam
definitely wasn’t killed in the avalanche.”
“Then where
is she now? And why didn’t she make contact with SG-3?”
“How
the hell should I know?!” O’Neill was edgy and in no mood
to answer questions he didn’t have an answer for. The ashes looked old, at
least a week, maybe more. A lot could have happened in a week, even though the
quakes at least had become few and far between. He blinked at the suns … Yeah,
they were well apart again … Dammit, Sam, where are you?!
They decided
to search towards the glaciers first, to try and find the trail Sam and the
Colonel had first laid two weeks ago, but they soon realised that nobody could
have come along there for a while. A thick, undisturbed layer of new snow had
made the path unrecognisable, and there were no fresh tracks. The only
remaining option was down, further into the valley. The going was difficult
here. They had to fight their way through branches and over fallen trees and
rocks.
It was Daniel
who stumbled onto the first tracks in a little clearing amidst all the debris.
“Jack! Jack, over here!”
O’Neill and
Teal’c came running. “What?!”
Daniel
pointed out the boot prints at his feet. “Has to have been
Sam. Unless one of Makepeace’s Marines has taken to prancing about in a
tiny left boot and a Teal’c-size right …”
“Wouldn’t put it past them, Danny, but we know
they never came this far down …” Jack flashed him a quick grin, his relief
evident. Something at last … “Let’s see where this
leads!”
It led up a
short incline and across a vast snowfield and was accompanied, sometimes
overlaid, by another trail, which looked as though she’d been dragging
something heavy. O’Neill, Teal’c, and Daniel had followed the tracks for about
an hour when they reached a spot where the snow was flattened and disturbed.
After that point the trail looked different.
Jack’s face
tensed. “She fell”, he said tersely. “She’s been crawling from here on out.”
Neither
Daniel nor Teal’c contradicted, and for once O’Neill wished they had. He set
off again, at a fast trot now, getting ahead of his friends. Finally he came to
a halt by a rocky outcrop.
Teal’c and
Daniel didn’t see it until they’d almost caught up with him: the trail led into
a cave, its entrance camouflaged by deep shadows. They also understood why Jack
just stood there rigidly, not moving a muscle: there was no sign of a fire in
the cave, and no tracks came out of it.
Teal’c was
about to step past the Colonel and enter, when Daniel placed a restraining hand
on the
************************
The interior
of the cave was dark, cold, quiet. So quiet that Jack could hear himself
breathing. Too quiet. Too cold.
Too dark. As grateful as he’d been to Daniel for
allowing him to face this on his own, now he wished he weren’t alone. Too cold. Too dark. Too quiet. The beam of his flashlight glided over a still,
curled-up shape. She looked as though she were sleeping. Too
quiet. Too cold. He’d lost her all over again.
Drawing a ragged breath, he took a step closer, tripped. Sam, please … Please, don’t leave me alone … Too dark.
She stirred,
sat up clumsily. Face turned in the direction of the noise she’d heard, head
tilted so as to listen better, she whimpered with fear, feebly trying to crawl
away like a scared little night animal scuttling from the light.
Oh God, Sam,
don’t be frightened … Not of me … Never of me …
It had taken
long, confused seconds, but he understood at last. She couldn’t see him. He
stopped moving. “Sam?’
She froze at
the sound of his voice, a flash of almost childlike delight, and then sudden,
utter distress chasing across her face.
Smooth, Jack!
Real smooth … “Sam?”, he said again, edging towards
her carefully. When he was close enough, he crouched, slowly extending a hand.
“Sam, it’s real. I’m gonna touch you, okay? Don’t be afraid … and don’t bite
me!”
He slipped
his arm around her and saw something he hadn’t believed he’d see again. Just
for a moment, she smiled. She groped for his hand on her shoulder, found it,
held on to it. With her left, she haltingly reached for his face, touched his
cheek.
“… you’re crying …” It was barely a whisper.
“Allergies …”
“… lousy liar
…”
“So you keep
telling me … ” Finally pulling her into a hug, he felt
her huddle against him. Frail as a bird, her breathing too rapid, too shallow,
her face too thin and blistered by the sunlight, she was alive. She was alive.
She was alive. He closed his eyes, stroked her head.
He had no
idea how long he’d been sitting there, just holding her, softly murmuring to
her, but eventually he heard footsteps from the entrance. He squinted when the
glare of a flashlight hit his eyes. “Danny? Teal’c?”
“Gee, thanks
for letting us know, Jack!” grumbled Daniel, but clearly his heart wasn’t in
it.
“How is
SamanthaCarter?”
“She’ll be
fine, Teal’c! … She’ll be … just fine”, he repeated gently, as much to convince
himself as to convince her.
Daniel, on
the other hand, wasn’t convinced. But whatever was wrong, it could wait. “Look
guys, I don’t want to rain on your parade, but … uh … maybe we should get out
of here before the three-o’clock-quake arrives, hunh?”
“Yeah”,
nodded Jack. “Let’s go.”
He cautiously
let go of Sam and rose. When she started and began to feel around her to find out where he’d gone, Daniel realised. So did Teal’c. Neither
of them said a word, while Jack wrapped the sleeping bag around her and lifted
her up. It could wait. First of all
they had to get Sam home.
************************
The klaxons
started blaring, and on the tannoy a tinny voice announced, “Off-world
activation!”
General
Hammond had been contemplating the ramifications of the fact that he’d seen neither hide nor hair of Dr Jackson or Teal’c in nearly eighteen
hours, a time frame which just happened to coincide with the duration of Jack
O’Neill’s mystery illness. The conclusions he’d arrived at were … well …
inconclusive. Now he shot out of his
office and into the control room.
Through the
large window he watched as chevron after chevron on the stargate lit up and
shed a reddish glow. The seventh chevron locked, the wormhole engaged, and the
‘gate room swarmed with SFs, all armed to the teeth.
“Who’s due
back?” the General asked Lieutenant Simmons, knowing full well that none of his
teams were.
“I’m getting
a code signal, sir!” Simmons shouted excitedly, then
fell silent in astonishment.
“Lieutenant?!
I’m waiting!!”
“Uh
… yes, General! Sorry … uh … Sir, that’s impossible:
it’s SG-1’s code …”
General
Hammond knew better than anyone just how impossible that was. For starters, the
team leader was a) under arrest, and b) in hospital … So, the thing they’d been
dreading for months had finally happened: someone had got access to an SGC iris
code. “Close the iris!” he yelled, and was about to run down to the embarkation
room, when Sergeant Siler’s voice came over the intercom.
It had taken
Siler all of two seconds to decide that his career wasn’t worth three, possibly
four lives. “Belay that order!!” he bellowed. “Do not close the iris!! It’s SG-1!”
Simmons,
whose finger had been hovering uncertainly over the key, took away his hand.
“Yes, sir!” he replied.
The General
already was on his way downstairs. He got there just in time to see SG-1 step
from the event horizon. All
of SG-1. Colonel O’Neill was carrying his 2IC down the ramp, followed by
Dr Jackson and Teal’c. They looked tired, cold, filthy, and apprehensive.
Jack found
“Permission
granted, son. See that she’s taken care of. We’ll … uhm … debrief … in 60
minutes.”
************************
Dr Fraiser
had practically ripped Sam from the Colonel’s arms and shooed everybody out of
the infirmary, threatening to anaesthetise anyone who dared to get in her way.
Reluctantly, Jack, Teal’c, and Daniel had gone to shower, changed into fresh
clothes, and then had hurried to the briefing room, where the General was
already waiting for them.
“Take a seat,
people”, said
“General, the
whole thing was my idea. I’m responsible -”
“Oh I’d bet
my last shirt that you are, Colonel, but that’s not what I’m interested in. I
made a mistake: I didn’t listen to you before. I’m listening now. The whole story, son. From the beginning.”
O’Neill,
Teal’c, and Daniel filled him in, from the moment SG-1 had first arrived an P2W 873 to their return through the stargate an hour ago.
Sam hadn’t been able to tell them anything yet, but even without her side of
the story, it didn’t make for an edifying tale. By the end of it, the General
was furious, a large part of his anger directed at himself.
At last he
said, “I’d better call the President and -”
“Sir! If I may?” Jack’s fingers were nervously drumming on his
writing pad, occasionally stopping to flick away and recapture a pen. He became
aware of what he was doing, clasped his hands. “Call me a cynic, but you advise
the President now, the whole thing gets swept under the carpet … Miss Farrell’s
gonna deny everything and she’ll get away with it.”
“So what do
you suggest we do, Colonel?”
“In roughly …
uhm …” - O’Neill checked his watch - “twenty-six hours, seven minutes, and
thirty-two seconds, ‘Counsellor’ Samuels’s gonna come shimmying into my cell,
sir. He’ll be bursting to hear whether I’ve changed my mind. How about I tell
him that I have, and that I’m going to kow-tow to Farrell and Miss Caroline,
provided I can walk away from the charges?”
“You want to
do what?! What’s that gonna
achieve?” Daniel seemed to dislike that particular plan.
Jack grinned
like the cat that had swallowed the canary. Then he explained it to them. When
he’d finished,
“Alright,
Colonel. We’ll go with your idea … By the way, how on earth
did you three ever get past Simmons?”
“Uh …
Daniel’s probably the best person to clarify that point, sir … Oh, and sir? I
think someone should let Jacob and Sam’s brother know.”
“I’ll do
that. Dismissed … Not you, Dr Jackson!”
************************
Not waiting
to catch the foul glare Daniel undoubtedly had given him, Colonel O’Neill had
bolted from the briefing room and to the infirmary. Dr Fraiser seemed to have a
sixth sense for members of SG-1 descending on her domain. She headed him off at
the door.
“Shh! Be quiet, sir. She’s asleep. And yes, you can go in and see
her”, she added, answering the obvious question. “Just don’t disturb her.”
“How is she,
Janet?” … Don’t you dare and tell me anything I don’t want to hear, Doc!
“It looks
worse than it is, sir, I promise”, the Doctor said, gazing at him. “In a
nutshell: Sam’s weak, and she’s traumatised, and she’s got a pretty nasty
concussion. Her ankle could have done with surgery, but it’s too late for that
now. It’ll sort itself out eventually, though. She’ll be just fine in a couple
-”
“What about
her eyes?”
“Her - … Oh
God, I thought you knew! Colonel, she’s snow-blind. That’s all. Basically it’s a sunburn on the cornea. A bad one in Sam’s case, but it
should go away in a few more days, together with the burns to her face. She’ll
be fine”, Janet said again, holding the door open for him. “Now, go on in, I’ve
got reports to write!”
For a moment
or two he hesitated, like a child who’d just got a complicated new toy for
Christmas and didn’t have a clue of what to do with it. Then he stepped inside,
the door silently shutting behind him.
Oh boy,
thought Fraiser. When the hell are you gonna realise it, sir? … She shook her
head and rushed off down the corridor.
************************
Sam slowly
drifted awake to beeping noises, the acrid smell of disinfectant, and the fact
that, for the first time in ages, she didn’t feel cold or sick or in pain …
Home. She was home. They had come back for her. It had been the Colonel back in
the cave, not another morbid trick her mind had played on her. She gave a
contented little sigh and snuggled under the covers.
“Sam?”
God, he
sounded so tired! How long had he been sitting there? Dumb
question, Carter. For however long you’ve been lying in this bed … She
smiled. “Hey, sir. Hasn’t Janet told you to get some
sleep?”
“Only
about five million times. I don’t think she really means
it … How’re you feelin’?”
“Warm.”
“Good.” A smile in his voice now.
Sam could have
sworn she actually heard his smile fade in the silence that followed. “What,
sir?”
At last he
answered, speaking so softly she could barely hear him. “When Frank Cromwell
left me behind … I … I hated him … hated
him so much I could taste it … I could understand if you felt that way about me
… I -”
“Sir!
Don’t!! I saw that backpack. Jeez, if I hadn’t known any better, I would have believed I was dead! You
never left me behind, sir. You brought me home.” She waited for a reply. Something. Anything. “Are you
listening to me? … Jack? … There’s nothing to forgive.”
Sam reached
out, trying to touch his arm, missing by a mile. “Sir?
… C’mon, at least say ‘hot’ or ‘cold’. My vision isn’t exactly 20/20 these
days, you know -”
The fingers
that closed around hers were trembling. “Janet says not to worry. It’s a sunburn. Your eyes are gonna be okay. And you’re not
missing much. The décor hasn’t improved since the last time you were here, and
I look like hell anyway …”
So you can talk, sir. And yeah, I bet you look
like hell … Aloud she enquired, “Thinking about changing your beautician,
Colonel?”
That got a
small laugh. Then there was another pause. Suddenly, gruffly, he said, “Don’t
ever do that to me again …”
“Do what,
sir?” She smiled.
“You know …”
Sam felt his
head nestle in the crook of her arm and lightly ran a hand through his hair.
“Get some sleep, sir.”
“’kay …”
When Dr
Fraiser arrived some time later to check on Sam, they were both asleep. Jack
hadn’t shifted from a position that would have filled a contortionist with
envy, and Sam’s hand was still resting on his head. She sighed. “You guys gotta
stop meeting like that”, she murmured. “Any more of this and I’ll end up having
to refer you to a chiropractor, Colonel …”
************************
That
afternoon, a suspiciously buoyant-looking Colonel O’Neill was back in his cell,
suffering from nothing more than a slight crick in his neck. MP Pint-size,
ordered back from the hospital, stood guard outside the door, trying to put two
and two together and consistently coming up with five. This doomed exercise in
mental arithmetic was interrupted by the arrival of Lieutenant Colonel Samuels.
Pint-size snapped to attention, and let him into the cell.
“Well,
Colonel, I suppose you’ve had time to cool down a little?”
“Hi,
Samuels. Nice of you to stop by. Grab
a chair. What can I do for you?”
Samuels was
visibly taken aback. O’Neill being civil to him was so much of a novelty as to
be suspicious. “Uhm … I hear you’ve been ill”, he said, sitting down. “Still
feeling … uh … a bit under the weather, are you?”
Jack had clocked Samuels’ reaction and mentally kicked
himself. Lousy time to get careless, Jack! Keep up the insulted brute act, it’s
what he expects. “Cut to the chase, Samuels. What do you want?” Better.
Samuels
relaxed, regaining his air of self-righteous superiority. “Your
answer, Colonel. Are you going to accept the deal Senator Farrell has
offered, or do you want to risk a court-martial? Let me remind you that -”
“Yeah, yeah,
yeah … Spare me the reminders. I accept, alright?! So you can run back to Miss
Farrell and tell her I apologise. Now, can I get out of here?”
“Uh … It
isn’t quite that easy, Colonel -”
“Oh
for cryin’ out loud!” Jack had risen and started pacing.
“What else does she want?! My head on a platter?”
“Something like that.” Samuels’ eyes followed O’Neill’s path, tick-tocking back and forth like he was watching the US Open
Finals at Flushing Meadows. “You’ll have to understand two things, Colonel.
Firstly, the apology will have to be made in person and, secondly, it will have
to be as public as we can make it under the circumstances -”
“Great! Do I
get to wear a feather boa and tap-dance?”
“I daresay it
won’t matter what you wear, as long as you apologise, Colonel. General Hammond who, quite frankly, is appalled by your behaviour,
has suggested a meeting on base, in the presence of Senator and Miss Farrell
and the President. The General is very keen to impress on both the Senator and
the President that there won’t be any shenanigans and that you will be
dishonourably discharged after your release.”
“Yeah, I bet
he is! Won’t do if he lost a dime or two out of his precious funding, will it?
So when’s that circus gonna take place?”
“Provided
that the Farrells and the President agree to the
venue, it’ll be arranged for Monday. Two days from now, in other words.”
“Can’t
wait. Well, if there’s nothing else, don’t let me keep you,
Samuels.”
Samuels rose,
walked to the door and knocked. “Well, good luck, Colonel.” The door opened,
and he left.
Jack smiled.
“One down …”, he whispered.
Fifteen
minutes later the General entered. “Sorry it took so long, son. I had to see
Samuels off.”
“Don’t worry,
sir … How did he take it? He seemed a bit depressed to me. I think he was
looking forward to my court-martial.”
General
Hammond and Colonel O’Neill amicably strolled out of the cell and disappeared
down the hall.
Contrary to
what Pint-size had been taught at elementary school, he now was convinced that
two and two did indeed make five, and he wouldn’t have been at all surprised to
see a low-flying pig whirring through the corridors.
************************
At 1530 hours
the following Monday, all base personnel, including every SGC team currently
on-world, were ordered to assemble in the ‘gate room. A few knew why they were there, others had only heard rumours and were speculating
wildly. Apparently, Colonel O’Neill had really screwed up this time. And what
was that buzz about Major Carter not being dead after all? Major Feretti was
taking bets, although nobody could quite figure out on what. When the blast
door slid back to admit the President, the Farrells,
and General Hammond, the hum of conversation ceased, and they all stood to
attention.
“At ease”,
The President
was bewildered by the sheer mass of people in the room. “Was that really
necessary, General? All things considered, you might
have been better served by keeping it … well, more private.”
“Mr
President. The integrity of my command has been brought into question by the
actions of a single individual. Every man and woman here has been affected. Any
apology being made here today therefore needs to be extended to all of them as
well. They have a right to be here, sir.”
Martin
Farrell spoke up for the first time, obviously sharing the sentiment. “I
commend your decision, General. Maybe I have judged you too rashly -”
“Daddy, can’t
we just get this over with? I really don’t want to be here any longer than
necessary! My memories of these people aren’t altogether pleasant, if I may
remind you.” Caroline Farrell, dressed in a demure black suit befitting the
occasion, was fiddling with a handkerchief.
Guttridge
disappeared. Moments later he returned, followed by the Colonel.
Caroline
Farrell froze. Her father gripped
“Senator, I
assure you there is no need for a guard”,
Jack slowly
walked to the centre of the room and saluted, first his Commander-in-Chief,
then the General. His face inscrutable, he acknowledged the father and daughter
last. “Senator Farrell. Miss Farrell.”
“Well, get on
with, boy, we haven’t got all day!”, Farrell Senior
snapped.
A shocked
murmur spread through the room. The consensus seemed to be that the last person
to address Jack O’Neill like that probably didn’t exist. Not anymore, at any
rate. Jack himself never so much as twitched, he just stood and waited for the
drone to die down.
The President
had reached the end of his patience. “Colonel?! An apology. Now! We’ve been waiting too long.”
“Oh, I agree,
sir”, Jack said quietly. “An apology is definitely overdue.”
Senator
Farrell would have struck him if the blast door hadn’t reopened at that moment
to let Major Carter enter. Still having difficulties with her sight, she was
led by her father. Jacob guided her to O’Neill’s side. Sam crisply saluted the
President and turned to the Farrells. “Hi, Caroline.”
Caroline
Farrell blanched. “Daddy, I want to go … Please let’s go! … Now!!” she
screamed.
“Shh,
Caroline”, Farrell put a hand on her shoulder. “Remember what we’re here for.
You’ll get what you wanted.”
“General
Hammond! Who is this officer, and what is the meaning of this charade?!” the
President demanded.
“Mr
President, I need to inform you that I’ve committed a grave error of judgment
-”
“I should
think so!” Senator Farrell cut in. “Who the hell are you, miss?!” he barked at
Sam.
“Major
Samantha Carter, sir.”
“Bullshit!
There’s no way Major Carter could have returned, so who -” The Senator broke
off in mid-sentence.
“My
God! You knew all along …”, Sam
gasped. “She told you! And you would have wrecked Colonel O’Neill’s life and
left me to rot on that godforsaken planet, just to protect your daughter? What
kind of a man are you? You know she’s -”
“Don’t say
it, missy! I forbid you!”, Farrell roared. “Caroline
is worth twenty of you! What do I care if you die? What do I care about the
life of some snotty flyboy who comes into my house and tricks my little girl
into telling him what she’s done? You should have given Caroline what she
wanted, and there wouldn’t have been a problem. But no, you had to have it your
way, didn’t you? You’ll regret this, all of you! I’m gonna shut you down, you
hear me? You hear me, General? I’m gonna shut down your precious SGC! … Come
on, Caroline, we’re going!”
“I don’t
think so, Martin.” The President had regained his composure. With deep sadness
he looked at his friend, then at
Farrell
blustered, trying to say something, but the President cut him off. “Martin.
Caroline. It’s over. I’m sorry.”
The whole
room watched in silence as they were led away.
At last, the
President cleared his throat. “Ladies and Gentlemen, you’ve come here to hear
an apology, so you’re gonna get one. The gravest error of judgment in all this
has been committed by me, and it has compromised the safety of this facility
and its personnel. I deeply regret what has happened, and I offer my sincere
apologies to Major Carter and Colonel O’Neill.”
“Uh … Thank
you … uh … Sir!” Sam was fumbling for words. It isn’t every day of the week
that your Commander-in-Chief bothers to apologise to you if you’re but a humble
Major.
“It’s okay,
sir. Just don’t do it again”, said Jack.
General Hammond groaned.
“What?!”
************************
Jacob had
taken his leave, and Sam was whisked back to the infirmary. Daniel and Teal’c
had sat with her for a while, until they’d been turfed
out by Dr Fraiser who’d decided that her patient had had enough excitement for
one day.
It was just after ten o’clock at night when Colonel
O’Neill sneaked into the infirmary in fine commando style. All that was missing
was the camouflage paint on his face. To make up for it, he had a sports bag
slung over his shoulder. “Hey, Carter? You asleep?”, he whispered.
“Yes!” She
grinned.
“You’re not
supposed to lie to your CO, Major. Why aren’t you asleep?”
The grin
faded. “Guess I’m afraid to wake up -”
“- back in
that cave”, Jack finished for her. “Won’t happen, Carter.
But if it happens, I’ll come and get you. Promise … Now, Doc Fraiser tells me
you haven’t been eating properly. That true?”
“Doc Fraiser
talks too much.”
“She was
under duress. I pushed her into a corner and tickled her until she cracked.”
Sam giggled.
“Stop it,
Carter. This is serious!” Jack unzipped the sports bag, took out a cardboard box,
and placed it in front of her on the covers. “Can you see this?”
“Kinda. What
is it?” She raised the top end of the bed to sit up comfortably.
“Dinner.
Open it.”
Sam did, and
suddenly her nose crinkled. “Smells good … Smells like … Oh! Is this what I
think it is, sir?”
“If you think
it’s a concert grand, the answer’s ‘no’.” He smiled.
She’d torn
off a slice of pizza and sunk her teeth into it. “Mow!!
Isha Fiorentina”, she
mumbled indistinctly.
“Didn’t Jacob
ever tell you it’s bad manners to talk with more than
seven ounces of pizza in your mouth?”
“Shorry!”
“And, yes,
it’s a Fiorentina. Delivery got delayed, though.”
“What do you
mean, sir?” Sam finally had swallowed and looked at him curiously.
Jack
shrugged. “Well, I got lost in that blizzard, didn’t I? … The bet was Feretti’s
idea. I’d have gone anyway.”
Her eyes went
wide. “You never mentioned anything, sir!”
“You’d still
have hit me.”
“True. But
maybe not as hard …
Look, sir, I can’t possibly eat this on my own. You gotta help me
out here.”
“I was hoping
you’d say that, Carter”, he replied, grinning, and sat next to her.
************************
“Oh,
for heaven’s sake! Not again!”
Dr Fraiser,
doing a quick last round of the infirmary before going home, had stumbled on a
scene that somehow looked familiar. At least this time the Colonel was sitting
on the bed, legs stretched out on the covers, one arm wrapped around Sam who’d
curled up against him.
Quietly, so
as not to wake them, Janet removed the empty pizza carton from the bed and put
it in a bin, making a mental note to have a word with Colonel O’Neill in the
morning. His idea of the dietary requirements of Janet’s patients obviously was
in need of some serious adjustment. Well, at least Sam had eaten for a change …
With a little
yawn, Dr Fraiser dimmed the lights and left.
Fin.