“I appreciate your apologies,” Huang said, placing his glass on the table. He stroked his beard quietly for a moment before continuing. “As I said earlier, I understand what drives Colonel O’Neill.”
“Thank you — ”
“But I am not convinced your colonel can be trusted. I have read enough of the reports sent to the Security Council to be familiar with his ability to disobey orders.”
Major Carter looked at George for permission to speak. He gave her the go. “With all due respect, sir, if it wasn’t for Colonel O’Neill’s disregarding certain orders, you wouldn’t be here having this discussion with us.”
“The truth is,” added Davis, “the world owes its very existence to Colonel O’Neill several times over.”
Huang bowed his head in acknowledgement.
“I assure you,” George said, “Major Carter has been already instructed to take over command of SG-1 if necessary.”
“Then I am satisfied.” Huang picked up the metal box, offering it to Major Carter. “We should configure these as soon as possible.”
She took the box and smiled graciously. “Whenever you’re ready, Mister Ambassador.”
Satisfied, George got up from the table. “I’ll go notify the rest of the team. If you’ll remain here, Major Davis will keep you company.”
“Thank you, General.”
“And I’ll be happy to see to any needs you have,” said Dr. Frasier. “Medical or otherwise.”
Huang pushed aside his glass. “If it wouldn’t be too much trouble, I would like some tea.”
“General?” The doctor looked toward George for approval.
“Anything the ambassador needs, Doctor. I’ll leave him in your capable hands.”
George stopped by the watch desk on his way out and ordered a pot of tea for the ambassador. Hurrying down the steps, he considered how he would explain to Sergeant Siler the strange circumstances surrounding SG-1’s tactical needs.
* * *
Two hours later, Jacob Carter returned to the S.G.C. Thanks to the High Council, he’d been able to secure a cargo ship on a planet with a gate which was only a day’s ride away from Yu’s homeworld. He quickly made contact with George and then headed toward the locker room to change into generic BDUs since he’d be on base for at least the duration of the rescue mission. Jacob actually preferred his Tok’ra uniform, but for once, just once, he’d like to get a meal in the commissary without the kitchen help giving him odd looks.
He walked past the armory, picking his way around an SG unit signing out some M-16s and zats. He slid past, only to find himself hugging the wall, as a couple of lab technicians raced through, rolling a cart laden with a basketball sized octagonal device showering sparks. Though Jacob was pretty sure it wasn’t Goa’uld in design, that didn’t make the thing any less dangerous.
He hadn’t been kidding when he shared with Jack his fear that the S.G.C.’s ongoing directive to find weapons to fight the Goa’uld was going to end up getting his favorite planet wiped out.
The technicians disappeared through a blast door and Jacob continued on down the corridor. Getting the ship so easily had been a damn fine stroke of luck. He’d considered fudging the details when explaining the ship’s need to the High Council, but in the end, Selmak convinced him to tell the truth. Dr. Jackson had enough supporters amongst the Tok’ra to shut down any bitching or moaning the more isolationist faction tended to do.
Do the Tau’ri not say, honesty is the best policy?
Selmak at his finest.
Jacob chuckled aloud, ignoring the odd stares of S.G.C. personnel who hadn’t a clue that he could have entire conversations with himself — and his symbiote, of course — and not be bored for a moment. It was like carrying your best friend around in your head at all times.
More than best friends. There were things Jacob shared with Selmak — hopes and fears, desires and needs — things he’d never admit to anyone else.
Sometimes, even to yourself, dearest friend.
Too true. The blending of host and symbiote had forced Jacob to not only accept, but embrace ugly truths about himself. He’d become a better man for it.
He reached the men’s locker room and was about to shove the door open when the shouting started from inside. The first voice was unrecognizable.
“You held him back and now look what’s happened! Making him play soldier when he should be flourishing in his element.”
A second voice responded. Soft, barely a murmur. Jacob couldn’t quite make out who it was.
“It’s Hopkins, you half
e’diat
,” the first voice yelled with what Jacob was pretty sure was a Jamaican accent.
“You can’t even get a simple name straight. It’s a wonder Daniel wasted his time with a military lug head like you.”
Again, a muffled reply. Still unintelligible.
The door bashed open and Jacob jumped back to get out of the way. A tall, dark-skinned man, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt stormed out. From the non-regulation dreadlocks and thick rimmed glasses, Jacob could only assume he was a civilian scientist. Probably an archaeologist from the way he talked about Dr. Jackson.
The man stopped short and scowled at Jacob as if he was sizing him up and didn’t think much of what he saw.
He has probably never met a Tok’ra.
Well, too bad for him, Jacob silently responded. He instantly disliked the man.
The scientist asked, “And you are?”
“None of your damn business.”
“How come, man? ‘Cause I don’t have that ‘need-to-know’ everyone a’lies to around here?”
Jacob brushed past him and into the locker room.
Inside, he noticed the extra rows of lockers. Probably making more room for new SG teams, he thought. He made his way down the row, searching for his name. With relief, he found it in a corner, affixed to a brand new locker.
George had set up a place years back so Jacob could stow a couple of changes of clothes. He spun open the combination lock and pulled out a green set of BDUs and pair of boots.
Clink. Snap. Clink. Snap.
Jacob walked past the first line of lockers in search of the sound. It was Jack, flipping an old Zippo lighter. The colonel had changed into black BDU pants and operation jacket. A tactical vest was thrown on the bench beside him. On top of the vest laid an open Van Dyck cigar box filled with old photos. Jacob stepped closer. Jack threw him a sideways glance and then went back to flipping the lighter back and forth.
Over the years, Jacob had pretty much seen every one of Jack’s moods. Cocky, optimistic, cranky when frustrated. Impatient when the details got in the way. All understandable and normal behavior for someone who’d had the world’s survival on his shoulders. Repeatedly.
Jack’s current mood was different. He stared down at the lighter, never lifting his head. If Jacob didn’t know any better, he’d swear Jack was wallowing in self-pity.
Or, self-anger.
Which wouldn’t retrieve Dr. Jackson, or protect the team.
“I didn’t know you were a smoker,” Jacob said, hoping to get to the bottom of this, quick.
Clink. “Used to be. Gave it up years ago.”
“Thank God Sam never picked up the habit.”
Snap. “She’s smart that way,” Jack said.
Jacob dropped his BDUs on the bench, noting the shots of a kid, undoubtedly Jack’s dead son, inside the cigar box. There were some early photos of Jack as well, dressed in paratrooper gear, smiling broadly at the camera as if he was eager to make his first jump. A wedding band. A lottery ticket. A single cigar.
On top of the stack was a shot of SG-1. Sam’s hair was a bit longer so it must have been taken about three years ago. The team was dressed in Abydonian-style robes, even Teal’c. A young Abydonian boy with long black plaits stood beside Jack, his dark eyes filled with joy. From the little Jacob knew about Abydos, he could only assume the boy was Skaara.
Sam had shared enough for him and Selmak to be disgusted by Anubis’ eradication of Abydos. The planet and its people had been a shining light for the Tok’ra, their ability to find it within themselves to rebel against the System Lord Ra an amazing feat that stirred Tok’ra hearts to take bolder steps against the Goa’uld.
Clink.
Jacob cleared his throat, hoping to get Jack off whatever was troubling him and back onto the matter at hand. Lord Yu was a minor nuisance compared to the larger threat of Anubis. They needed to retrieve Dr. Jackson and get on with the fight.
“Any news from Dr. Frasier yet?” he asked.
Snap. “Nope. Not yet.”
“It’s going to be fine, Jack. You’ll get in there, you’ll get Daniel, and you’ll be back in time for the July 4th fireworks.”
Jack looked up, a sardonic grin on his face. “And here I forgot to buy my little flag to wave.”
“Jesus, Jack. If you’re going to be pissed, be pissed at Yu.”
Jack turned back to the lighter, turning it over in his hand a few times before flipping it open once more.
Clink.
“The Goa’uld took Daniel,” Jacob said. “Now you guys can go kick his butt.”
He still blames himself
, thought Selmak.
Talk about stating the obvious.
Snap.
Jacob grabbed the lighter out of Jack’s hand.
“That’s mine, thank you.” Jack snatched it back.
Jacob frowned. “You can’t protect your team twenty-four/seven and you know it. It doesn’t work that way.”
Clink.
Jack thumbed the wheel and the Zippo lit up. “Still wish you could come?”
Startled by the question, Jacob picked up the cigar box and sat down next to Jack. “You know I do. But I’m too recognizable in Yu’s court. Besides, the Tok’ra High Council never would’ve agreed to it.”
Jack blew out the flame. “And does your High Council have any idea why Yu took Daniel in the first place?
Jacob sighed. “Not a clue.”
“Of course not.” Jack took his cigar box from Jacob’s hands, looking at its contents as if taking inventory. “Not that I don’t believe you, but I’m not so sure your little Tok’ra buddies always tell you the truth.”
A small pressure nudged in Jacob’s head. Selmak’s way of raising his hand, wanting a turn to speak.
Jacob bowed his head and mentally stepped aside.
“
You should not fear for your friend, Colonel O’Neill
,” said Selmak. “
Our operatives within Lord Yu’s lower ranks insist Dr. Jackson is still very much alive, though why Yu has taken him remains unclear.
”
“No offense, but I’ll believe Daniel’s all right when I see him with my own eyes.” Jack stood, shoving the cigar box into his locker. He slammed the door shut, spun the combo, and then shrugged on his jacket.
Believing there was nothing more to be said that could shore up Jack’s confidence, Jacob pulled off his tunic and slipped on a black tee. The colonel would have to come to terms with his demons on his own. He was a big boy, he’d been through plenty. If he needed to go through this moment of self-doubt to pull it together, so be it.
Respecting Jack’s need for silence, Jacob turned back to the task of changing. He tossed his Tok’ra uniform into his locker and sat down to tie up his boots. Though Jack no longer toyed with his lighter, he thumbed the metal cap repeatedly, seemingly lost in thought.
After a long pause, Jack finally spoke up. “Let me ask you something — ”
“Anything.”
Jack shook his head. “Actually, it’s a Selmak question.”
Though astonished, Jacob happily stepped aside.
“
Colonel
?” asked Selmak.
“You’ve lived for what… two thousand years?”
“
That is correct. I was born directly of Queen Egeria, in the time of your Roman Empire.
”
Selmak observed as Colonel O’Neill’s eyes fell to the object in his palm. Wrapping his fingers over the dull, scratched metal case, the colonel looked up. “So, over the centuries, you’ve probably had lots of hosts. Your symbiote pals had lots of hosts, too.”
“
And each and every host remains a fond memory within the Tok’ra. No one is forgotten.
”
“Okay.” The colonel grabbed his tactical vest and slipped it on.
“
Have I answered your question
?”
“One more thing,” the colonel said. He grabbed his pack, opened a side pocket, and stuck his lighter within. “As time marches on… What’s it like for you snakeheads? How do you watch everyone you’ve ever known die?”
STARGATE COMMAND
STATUS: COMMENCE SEARCH AND RESCUE
2 JUL 03/1500 HRS BASE TIME
The Stargate powered up, its inner superconducting ring spinning clockwise across in search of coordinates to lock. Normally, Sam enjoyed watching the massive machinery, the thrum of the gate-room floor beneath her feet could charge her up for anything and anywhere.
This mission, however, was anything but normal.
She looked on as General Hammond and her father escorted Ambassador Huang into the gate-room. Huang clutched his metal box to his chest
The ring’s forward momentum ground to a halt and the first chevron lit up. As the ring changed directions, Colonel O’Neill entered with Teal’c and Bra’tac at his side.
“
Chevron One encoded
,” Sergeant Harriman announced over the PA system.
The colonel looked as out of place without a P90 slung across his chest as Bra’tac and Teal’c looked without staff weapons. Sam’s hand drifted down to the zat strapped to her leg. Small solace though it was better than nothing.
“
Chevron Two encoded
.”
“Everyone’s got their pendants?” her father asked.
“Lovingly stowed away,” said the colonel with a pat to his vest pocket. “Where’s our packs?”
“Right here, sir!” Sergeant Siler ran through the blast doors with three specialists in his wake. Since Bra’tac wore his Jaffa armor, he was given a messenger bag with a sleeping roll tied to its strap.
“
Chevron Three encoded
.”
“Tell me you packed my Gameboy, Siler,” said the colonel.
“Of course, sir. Wouldn’t dream of letting you go without it.” Siler strapped on Colonel O’Neill’s pack while two of the specialists assisted Sam and Teal’c.