Chapter One
Three days earlier
STARGATE COMMAND
STATUS: STANDBY/MISSION READY
30 JUN 03/0850 HRS BASE TIME
Jack didn’t hover. That was normally Daniel’s department. He, on the other hand, preferred direct action. Get it done, move on. Next.
Yet here he was, doing just that. Hovering by the gate-room’s blast doors, staying way out of the way, while Teal’c received the honorary rank of Chief Master Sergeant at the hands of Walter and Siler. After all, it was an enlisted man’s ceremony, pretty much the highest rank one could get without being an officer. Jack, Carter and Daniel had been relegated to the back of the gate-room as observers. Which was fine. Anything to give the big guy his due.
Well, almost anything.
Walter recited the presidential decree in that thin little voice of his with quite a bit of showmanship. Not that Jack could blame the guy. Must get tiring, saying the same thing over and over again. Chevron One, locked. Chevron Two, locked. Etcetera, ad nauseam.
A sea of uniforms crowded the gate-room. SG teams, support personnel, the whole nine yards. Civilian workers had shown up as well. Researchers, medical support, even a few cooks had managed to squeeze their way in, though that was no surprise.
The kitchen staff’s fondness for Teal’c was legendary.
Jack fought the urge to wrench off the tie that was part and parcel of wearing dress blues. Loved the job. Loved the pay grade. Hated the uniform.
Bury me in my BDUs
.
To Jack’s right, General Hammond leaned in and whispered, “Any chance you’ll change your mind, Colonel?”
“Sadly, General, I’ve never been more sure of anything,” Jack whispered back.
As Walter droned on, and on, about enlisted men traditions and presidential decrees, Siler escorted Master Bra’tac up the ramp. Keeping with tradition, Bra’tac stood in for Teal’c’s family. Dressed in what seemed a mile of ceremonial robes, the normally solemn Jaffa Master seemed impatient today, as if he didn’t quite ‘get’ the fuss.
“Too bad Rya’c couldn’t be here to see his dad get his due,” Carter commented.
“Shhh,” Jack warned. “Let’s just get through this thing so we can get on to the important stuff.” Like cake.
Still, the major was right. Rya’c should’ve been there. Okay, it wasn’t the same as being First Prime, leading thousands of men into battle, but nobody got that job on Earth save for General Jumper or the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs. Considering what the kid had recently been through, forced to slave away on one of Baal’s labor prisons like a dog till Daniel paid a little walk down ascension memory lane, it might have been nice for Rya’c to see his dad get honored.
But Rya’c had volunteered to assist the relief effort at the Alpha site, after relocating the freed Jaffa prisoners from Baal’s little slave labor camp on Erebus. With any luck, Rya’c would recruit a few dozen rebels to the Jaffa Fifth Column. Every bit helped.
The kid had his priorities straight. As awesome a soldier as Teal’c was, he’d turned out to be an even better dad
.
For a brief moment, Jack tried to imagine Rya’c and Charlie as buddies. Charlie would have been only a few years younger.
Jack clamped down on that train of thought before it left the station.
That’s what happens when you go poking about in your old cigar box. Tucked away memories came spilling out.
Bigger and better locker rooms were fine. Having to clean out his locker to make way for said bigger and better lockers had sucked.
“In recognition of outstanding dedication to these principles,” Walter recited, “the President of the United States has placed special trust in the integrity and abilities of Teal’c of Chulak.”
While Walter continued his speech, Siler and Bra’tac tacked a honking pair of sergeant stripes onto the sleeves of Teal’c black wool pin-striped blazer.
For a Jaffa, he was a hell of a dresser.
“In recognition of the six times you have joined SG-1 in saving the world — ”
“Seven,” the Jaffa corrected calmly. Siler stifled a chuckle thanks to a glare from Bra’tac.
“In view of these special qualities and the demonstrated potential to serve, Teal’c is hereby awarded the rank of honorary Chief Master Sergeant.”
After a nod from Bra’tac, a round of applause filled the gate-room.
“Technically, Teal’c is under your command,” Hammond said with a tilt of his head. “I could order you — ”
“Technically,” Jack countered, “we’re all under your command, General. Plus you’re a far better speechifier, if I do say so myself, sir. I get up there and all I’m going to do is quote good old Marie Antoinette.”
On the ramp, Siler and Bra’tac stepped back. Teal’c raised his arms to show off his new stripes and the crowd cheered him on.
“Jack?”
“Daniel?”
“What does an eighteenth century French aristocrat have to do with saying a few words in Teal’c’s honor?”
“Cake, Daniel… I’ll talk of cake,” Jack said, thinking of the sweet spread awaiting them in the mess. “You know, as in ‘let them’.”
That got a smile out of Carter. At least she got his jokes… most of the time.
Daniel sputtered, his eyes threatening to pop. “You can’t be serious.”
“Oh, but I am,” Jack replied, inwardly pleased that even though Daniel had been through some hellish or heavenly bent in the past year, he could still tie the archaeologist up in knots when he wanted to.
“Don’t worry yourself, Daniel. Of course, I’m going to say something. It’s T’s big day.” With a nod, Jack signaled the general to lead the way.
And then, just because he could, “You think Bra’tac’s ever tried chocolate?”
* * *
Samantha Carter loved military ceremonies. The pomp, the circumstance, the coming together to celebrate the very reason she’d followed in her father’s footsteps, never failed to disappoint.
“Integrity first. Service before self. Excellence in all we do,” spoke the colonel from the podium. “Core values that look great on Air Force recruitment posters. Living them is another matter. Something that everyone in this command strives for every day.
“Teal’c here is no exception. We’re lucky to have him.” Colonel O’Neill paused, scanning the room. His eyes settled on Sam, and beside her, Daniel. A strange quiet filled the air for a moment, the sound of feet shuffling overloud in the concrete chamber. For a moment, she wondered if the colonel would really make good on his threat and talk of cake.
“But I think I’m safe in saying that he’s lucky to have us, too. They say that victory or defeat depends on the conditions of the landscape or environment. I don’t agree. I say our success depends on ourselves… and each other.”
An uproar of applause marked the ceremony’s end. Feet stomped. Whistles let out. At Siler and Walter’s lead, Teal’c came down the ramp. SG-1’s Jaffa rebel kept his face neutral as he received pats on the back from both officers and enlisted personnel, but as he passed by Sam and Daniel, he bent his head in recognition and Sam saw the faintest glimmer of a smile.
Behind them, Colonel O’Neill guided Bra’tac toward the exit with promises of Tau’ri delicacies. As they passed, he raised an eyebrow in Daniel’s direction.
The colonel’s not so subtle way of telling Sam it was her turn to probe and poke. Push and prod. Gauge just how well Daniel was adjusting to… well… life, really.
One look at the telltale way Daniel wrapped his arms around himself told Sam everything she needed to know. Lips pressed together, a smile that didn’t quite make it to his eyes. In a room filled with uniforms and lab coats, Daniel — dressed in a simple tweed blazer and black slacks — was sorely out of place.
Of course he was. In the year he was gone, presumed dead, ascended, whatever people had liked to call it, life had gone on for the S.G.C. Now he’d been back barely a month and though there were plenty of folks here who still knew him and were happy for his return, they’d gotten used to his absence.
SG-1 never did.
She touched Daniel’s elbow, as much to reassure herself he was really back, and really there, as it was to let him know she cared. “You all right?”
“I’m fine, really,” Daniel replied with the slightest of shrugs. “I didn’t know Jack had it in him.”
“When you left…,” Sam refused to use the word die, “the colonel had to play diplomat on a few missions. He got pretty good at it, actually. But yes, he’s still — ”
“Pithy?” Daniel asked.
“Something like that,” she said with a smile.
“That’s… uh… nice to know.” He faced the Stargate and fell silent.
For all of Sam’s efforts, even she couldn’t deny the awkwardness between them. What would it take to dispel an unease which had no place amongst them?
They should be celebrating, not tiptoeing on eggshells.
Lieutenants Simmons and Wood passed by, the last of the gaggle heading toward the mess for the post celebration. Other than the standard SF guards posted by the far wall, the gate-room was unusually empty. No SG units heading out, no technicians fine-tuning the gate’s temperamental capacitors. No immediate disasters to contend with.
Closing her eyes, Sam soaked in the quiet hum from the room’s electronics. The sixty-four thousand pound ring of naquadah at the end of the ramp tugged at her like a siren’s call. She assumed it was some distant molecular memory from her time as host to Jolinar, her former Tok’ra symbiote, but her own life had become entwined with the Stargate as well and she was fine with that. More than fine, actually.
“Nice, uh, ceremony,” Daniel offered from behind her.
Sam opened her eyes and turned to face him. “I’m sure General Hammond has some sort of recognition planned for you, too. If it wasn’t for you, Bra’tac and Rya’c — ”
“Sam,” Daniel said with a shake of his head. “I’ve got enough of my memory back to know rank and recognition aren’t why I’m here. I’m happy to be back.”
“And we’re happy to have you back,” Sam said. “Believe me.” She jerked a thumb in the direction of the corridor and Daniel nodded. Together they stepped out into the corridor, passed the armory, and headed toward a crowd waiting to use the freight elevator. Calculating how long it would take to get that many folks up to level twenty-two, and knowing that between Colonel O’Neill and Teal’c, there’d be very little chance of any desserts left unless they hurried, Sam grabbed Daniel’s arm and pulled him down the hall toward the smaller elevators.
Besides, it would give her a chance to better field Daniel’s mindset. Sam waited till they’d hung a left and gone a good fifty feet out of earshot before asking, “You’re sure everything’s all right? You’ve been kind of quiet since — ”
“Honest, Sam. I’m fine. It’s just…”
“Just?”
“Saving the galaxy’s great, sure. Like Jack says, it’s what we do. It’s important.”
“But?”
“Part of me wonders if this is why I took ascension in the first place.”
“What?” From what she knew, the only other choice he’d had was death.
“I’m tired of playing the soldier.” Daniel stabbed the elevator call button. “When do we get back to exploring? Meeting new cultures and understanding old ones? I miss being who I am, an archaeologist. An explorer. If nothing else, doesn’t Jack want to find technologies to defend us from the Goa’uld? Anubis is still out there, according to Bra’tac’s contacts inside the Fifth Column — ”
“What’s left of it, you mean.” Sam would never, ever get the image out of her mind of what they’d found on Kresh’ta when all those rebel Jaffa were slain. It’d been a miracle they found Teal’c and Bra’tac alive.
“Right, I read the report,” Daniel said. “The point is, we’ve no idea where Anubis is and in the meantime, the Lost City is still out there, advanced weapons waiting for someone to come along and use them.”
“And you’re beating yourself up because you haven’t personally found it?”
“I was so sure I could. It’s like the memory’s there. Just out of reach.”
“Give it time, Daniel. You were able to remember enough to save Teal’c’s son. They’d be dead without you.”
“I’ve tried. The pieces don’t fit. That’s why we need to get back out there. If I can find more of the Ancients’ writing, I might be able to put it all in context and figure out a gate address. You know… do my job as an archaeologist.”
“Be patient, Daniel. General Hammond and the colonel have been combing through the gate address databank, sending UAVs to destinations from the Ancient depository instead of the cartouche.”
“And?”
“So far, we’ve found three sets of ruins that might be Ancient in origin. P3X-666 is slated for recon as soon as the general decides which team to assign. I’ve seen aerial footage from a UAV run on P3X-439. I think SG-2 is taking that one when they get back from leave. There’s a colonnade a few klicks off from the gate that might be Ancient in origin.”
“Might is a pretty big if.”
The elevator finally opened and SG-13 shot out in a hurry, dressed in desert camo. Sam pulled Daniel aside as the team hurried off. They were next up on the mission roster and probably headed to P2X-787. MALP telemetry showed a few broken bits of ruins, but nothing too promising.
Daniel followed Sam into the elevator. Just as she tapped the button for level twenty-two, Colonel Dixon doubled back, sticking an arm in the elevator to stop the doors from shutting. “In a hurry, Major?”
“No, sir.” Sam didn’t know very much about SG-13’s leader, but had heard good things. Whether from the south or not, Colonel Dixon had that persistent Chuck Yeager-esque drawl that even Colonel O’Neill tended toward from time to time. Pragmatic, a good leader who ‘got’ the idea that he was only as strong as his team. And of course, the two colonels played poker together.
“We might have found something up your alley on P3Y-702.”
Before she could ask the question, Daniel cut in. “Cartouche or depository?”
Colonel Dixon raised an eyebrow. “Don’t know. Don’t care. I just go where they point me.”
“And you think we’d be interested because?” Again from Daniel.