Fraiser, her broken wrist healed by the Tok’ra, nodded. “Yes, General. Thank you, sir.”
The look Hammond gave her was hard to read. Affection. Exasperation. Admiration. Awe. “In closing, Doctor, I’ll pass along something the President said to me, regarding your actions.”
Fraiser stiffened. “Sir?”
“He said, and I quote, ’Tell your damned doctor she’s spending too much time around Jack O’Neill.’”
“Yes, sir,” said Fraiser, and kept her eyes on her notes.
“What about you, General?” said O’Neill, ready for a fight. “Bottom line is you saved our butts. They better not be hammering you for going to the Tok’ra.” Not even a lingering trace of illness remained in him. He and Carter looked as healthy and refreshed as though they’d just come back from three weeks at a spa.
Man. Those Tok’ra are something else.
He was disappointed he hadn’t gotten to catch up with Carter’s father, but Jacob was off at another secret location, causing some Goa’uld somewhere a world of grief.
Ah well. Maybe next time.
Hammond was frowning. “That would be between me and the President, Colonel.”
“But — ”
The tips of Carter’s fingers touched O’Neill’s arm. “Of course, General,” she said, as he subsided. “But we would like to say, for the record, how much we appreciate what you did for us. Risked for us. Colonel O’Neill’s right. We’d be dead right now if you hadn’t gone to my father and asked him for help. I know Washington’s not pleased with the deal you made, but — ”
Hammond snorted. “Washington has belatedly come to recognize that in giving the Tok’ra cautious access to such an unprecedented supply of naquadah we have — for the first time — put them a little in our debt,” he said, teeth bared in a sharkish smile. “What’s more, as a result of their pecuniary interest in the planet, they’ll be assisting us in figuring out how to decontaminate Adjo. All in all, it’s worked out quite well.”
“Even though Bhuiku’s only agreed to grant us conditional access to Mennufer’s naquadah mine?” said Carter.
“Washington is confident his position will soften, sooner rather than later.”
“Don’t bet on it,” said O’Neill. “That kid’s not stupid. He knows not to give too much too fast. And he’ll have the rest of Adjo’s village leaders singing the same tune inside a month. Good kid.” He pulled a face. “It just sucks we couldn’t save Lotar for him. I wish — ”
He glared at the desk. There was a moment’s silence. A chill of sorrow. Dixon felt the ache of grief, renewed. Saw it echoed in O’Neill’s set face.
Yeah, Jack. Don’t we all.
“I’ll need your completed mission reports by 1500 tomorrow, SG-1,” said Hammond, eventually. “After that you’re on two weeks’ leave. It’s overdue, and well-earned.”
The team exchanged pleased, relieved glances. “Thank you, sir,” O’Neill said quietly.
“People…” Hammond sat back. “That concludes our debrief of the Adjo mission. It turned out to be one hell of a ride, but you know what they say: any landing you can walk away from is a good one. You’re dismissed. Ah — except for you, Colonel Dixon. I’d like a word.”
As the others filed out of the briefing room, Dixon stood behind his chair.
“Your wife was pleased to hear from you, I take it?” said Hammond.
Pleased
was an understatement. They’d both bawled like babies. “Yes, sir.”
Hammond smiled. “Good. Colonel, I’ve sent a separate report to General McCreary, regarding your contributions to the Adjo mission. But I’d like to say in person how impressed I am with what you achieved in your short time with us. Doctor Fraiser is adamant you saved Jackson’s life.” He shook his head, sighing. “You know, in the three years this base has been active I can only think of two other missions that come close to this one, in terms of threat level and complications.”
“Actually, General,” he said, grinning, “I’d say three. And strangely enough they all involved SG-1.”
“Three? Well, you could be right,” said Hammond. “But be that as it may, Colonel… I want you to know this. If ever you’re looking for a change of scenery there’s a locker with your name on it at the SGC. All you have to do is ask.”
He sucked in a deep breath. Let it out with care. “Sir, I am flattered. And I’ll give your offer due consideration, I promise. For now, let me say it’s been an honor and a privilege serving under you. And if things fall out that way I’d be proud to do it again.”
He saluted. Hammond saluted him back.
And then it was time to say his goodbyes.
Fraiser first, typing medical notes in her infirmary office. She
looked up as he tapped on the door. Smiled. “Colonel Dixon. You’re leaving?”
He nodded. “Yup.”
“You pleased?”
“Ecstatic.”
“Really?” She pretended to pout. “Gee. Hurt a doctor’s feelings, why don’t you?”
“Nah, not really,” he said, relenting. “It’s been… Chinese.”
He watched her work that one out, and grin when the penny dropped. “Yes, indeed,” she murmured. “Around this place we live in very interesting times.” She stood and held her hand out. “So, goodbye, then, sir. Doctor to doctor.”
Instead of shaking her offered hand, he kissed it. “You’re awesome, Janet. You’re one of a kind.”
She grinned. “I’m pretty sure the same can be said of you, Dave. Be good to yourself. Enjoy being a dad. Send us a photo when the baby’s born.”
“I will,” he said, touched. “How’s Jackson doing? Is he up for a visit?”
“A quick one. He’s still pretty run down.” She spread her fingers. “Five minutes. That’s all.”
But when he found Jackson, the guy was sleeping. He didn’t have the heart to wake him up, so he scrawled a note and left it propped on the nightstand by the bed.
Sorry I wasn’t Martha Stewart with a needle, Daniel. Call me when
you’re back on your feet. I’ll take you to dinner.
He found Carter in her lab, playing with the first naquadah samples they’d sent back from Adjo. Area 51 had refined them, and she was dancing like a little girl. When she saw him her face lit up in that glorious smile.
“Hey. Colonel Dixon.”
“Major Carter. Having fun?”
The smile widened. “You’d better believe it.” She shoved her hands in her pockets. “So. You’re going home?”
“Fast as my little transport flight can carry me.”
She nodded. “You’ll be missed, sir. We owe you, big time.”
“Enough for you to call me Dave? Now we’re not in a chain of command?”
She laughed. “Yeah. Okay.
Dave
.”
“And if I hug you goodbye,
Sam
, are you going to report me for conduct unbecoming?”
Her answering smile slipped, and suddenly her eyes were full of tears. “I’d report you if you didn’t,” she said, and stepped into his embrace. “Thank you, sir.”
He nearly missed Teal’c, heading offworld to his family. The wormhole was engaged and shimmering and he was half-way up the ramp.
“Colonel Dixon,” he said, turning back, and fisted one hand against his heart. “You are a worthy warrior of the Tauri. I would go into battle with you again without hesitation.”
Dixon nodded, and returned the
Jaffa’s
salute. “Back atcha, Teal’c. If I have a son I hope he’s half the man you are.”
Teal’c smiled. Nodded. And stepped through the Stargate. Dixon watched until the wormhole collapsed, then turned round.
O’Neill was standing in the control room, just to the left of the gate technician.
Okay, then. A case of last but not least.
By the time he reached the top of the spiral staircase, Sergeant
Harriman had disappeared. It was just him and O’Neill and the looming gray Stargate on the other side of the glass. Dixon drifted over to stand, not beside him, but near by. Shoved his hands in his pockets. Stared at the gate.
It had killed Frank Cromwell. Indirectly it had nearly killed
him, or at the least come perilously close to getting him stranded
on the other side of the galaxy. And yet it looked so peaceful. So harmless. Just a big metal ring.
Sure. Turn it on. Hell, what could go wrong?
Beside him, O’Neill rocked a little on his heels. “So. Hammond offered you a full-time gig here?”
He slid his gaze sideways and swiftly back again. “Yeah. But don’t worry. I said thanks, but no thanks.”
O’Neill shrugged. “Pity. I asked him to offer it.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, without thinking. Then turned his head to stare. O’Neill wasn’t joking.
What the hell?
“Why?”
Another shrug. “Why not?”
There were so many reasons, they all tangled on his tongue.
O’Neill sighed. Shook his head. “You handled yourself like a pro, Dave. You saw the mission through. And… you took care of my team.”
He looked at O’Neill, and O’Neill looked back. No mask. No armor. Naked honesty. Simple truth.
His turn to sigh. “You’re never going to talk to me about Frank, are you?”
“Nope,” said O’Neill.
He was surprised, then, to realize it no longer mattered. Or didn’t matter so much. Or mattered in a different way. Maybe because the others had spoken for O’Neill, whether they meant to or not. Or maybe because O’Neill had spoken for himself… not with words, but with actions.
I’ll just have to hope, Frank. I’ll just have to believe that before you died you got the absolution you
needed. And who knows, my friend… maybe one day I’ll get this stubborn bastard to change his mind, and we’ll drink a toast to you. I believe in miracles, now.
He grinned. “Well, Jack, I got me a plane to catch. So long. Take care of yourself. And don’t think I’ve forgotten I owe you a zat blast.”
He walked away then, without looking back. Slowly. Comfortably. Knowing that one day, some day, they’d see him again.
And you know what, Frank? I think I’m looking forward to it.
Karen Miller is an Australian speculative fiction writer. Her mainstream fantasy titles include the
Kingmaker, Kingbreaker
duology (#1 debut in the UK 2007) and the
Godspeaker
trilogy, releasing in the US and UK in April 2008. Her first Stargate novel was
STARGATE SG-1: Alliances
. Her website is:
www.karenmiller.net
.
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