Medalling With Old Wounds
“Stand down, Sergeant.” I stepped protectively in front of President Hayes, bumping into Stan, who was doing the same thing from the opposite direction. I saw the recognition creep into the face of the SF pointing his weapon at us, and watched his eyes shift to take in the two figures with me. He paled, gulped, and took a couple of steps back, lowering his rifle as he did so. His squad took their cue from him, and relaxed slightly, but I was pleased to note, still held themselves ready.
“General O’Neill.” Colonel Harper’s surprised voice echoed from the speakers connecting the Gate Room to the Control Room. I looked up to the observation window set high in the wall above me and gave a cheerful wave.
“Yes, lock up the dogs, I’m back.” I was sure I heard Stan snigger, but somehow it didn’t suit the image of the burley head of the President’s Secret Service Agents, so I dismissed it as imagination and turned to wave my guests to the door. “After you, Mister President.”
“Thank you, General O’Neill.” Hayes was looking around curiously, taking in his surroundings. “So this is the Gate Room?” He turned. “And the infamous Stargate.”
Despite its looming presence, I couldn’t help but give the huge ring an affectionate smile of greeting. I had missed it these last few months.
“Yes, sir, that’s it alright. Would you like to have a demonstration of how it works?”
Hayes smiled and nodded, and I turned back to the observation window, giving Colonel Harper a quick questioning lift of the eyebrow. I knew I had no right to give orders in the base anymore, but the presence of the President next to me was the coup de grâce. Colonel Harper gave me an answering smile and I looked back to Hayes. “Normally Colonel Carter explains it, but I don’t see her here, so you’ll just have to put up with me. Would you step over here please, sir.”
When I had the two men in a safe position, I ordered the iris opened, and launched into an explanation of wormhole physics. I interjected the science babble with pithy little jokes and watched, with a well-concealed smile, when Hayes flinched slightly as the wormhole established
“Can I touch it?” The President stared at the blue liquid looking surface with longing, but I caught Stan’s eye and shook my head. “Sorry, sir, but we better close it up. The longer we keep it open, the more of our taxpayers money is spent, and we wouldn’t want to do that, would we, Mr President.”
I knew by his smile that he understood the true reasoning behind my words, but he nodded and stood back. Stan let out the breath he had been holding and gave me a look of gratitude, the President’s safety of paramount importance.
“Now, sir, with your permission I’ll give you a tour of the SGC.”
Our first stop was the Control Room. Carter had just arrived, joining Daniel who had been there when I checked before, and their expressions were priceless. I left the President in Carter’s capable hands and took Colonel Harper aside to have a quiet word. I knew I wasn’t officially back at the helm of the SGC yet, but it was only a matter of time before Hayes made it official, and I wanted to give General Vidrine a heads up on the situation.
Vidrine wasn’t in his office. This could be awkward, it wasn’t like I could just waltz back into the SGC and take over, much as I’d love to. There were procedures.
I drifted back over to the group at the control panel in time to hear President Hayes interrupt Carter.
“No need to explain that to me, Colonel. General O’Neill has already given me a run down on how the thing works. Quite amazing.”
“He did, Mr President?” Carter saw me listening and paused, obviously trying to think how to word her next question diplomatically. She was saved by Daniel.
“Jack gave a pretty good explanation, actually, Sam. Even threw in a few jokes"
“Jokes?” I could see her consternation growing. For Carter, wormhole physics wasn’t a joking matter.
“Very funny ones too, Colonel Carter.” Hayes caught Stan’s eye and started laughing. “Especially the one about the astrophysicist that walked into a bar…’
Whoops – time to make my presence known.
“May I speak with you privately before you continue the tour, Mister President?” I smiled innocently, ignoring the daggers being cast in my direction from a certain scientist of my acquaintance.
“Of course, General O’Neill.”
“Perhaps…” I thought for a moment. I could hardly use my old office, I wasn’t officially in command. “…the Briefing Room.”
Before leading the way I called Carter over and gave her whispered instructions to let no one in or out of the Control Room. Hayes, Stan Taylor, and I were soon seated around the large table. I swallowed, trying to compose my thoughts, knowing that now was not the time to speak impetuously.
As if I ever did.
“Sir, how many people know you’re here at the SGC?”
Hayes thought for a moment, exchanging looks with Stan before replying. I could see the slight worry on the agent’s face. This was not the sort of question he would normally advise the President to answer.
“No one, General. The last communication I had with my people was from Commander Thor’s ship. I imagine they still think I’m on board the…” he paused, “I don’t actually know the name of his ship.” Then laughed, “But I probably wouldn’t be able to pronounce it anyway.”
Okay, now this was embarrassing.
“Ah, well, actually it isn’t hard, sir.” I found myself looking down at my fingernails.
Oh, look, a dirty bit.
“Really? What is it?”
I hooked my right index fingernail under my left thumbnail and flicked the tiny speck out.
“The O’Neill.”
“Sorry, I didn’t catch that, Jack.”
Oh crap. I looked up into the grinning face and knew I had been played. Oh well, what was that old English expression? In for a penny, in for a pound.
“It’s the ‘O’Neill II’, Mr President, and technically it isn’t Commander Thor’s ship. It’s mine.” Which was true. We still hadn’t swapped the title back. “I won it in a poker game a year or so ago.”
President Hayes was nonplussed. I would venture to say that his plus was very non. I grabbed the opportunity to get the discussion back on track.
“Sir, I want to be completely frank with you. I can’t see General Jumper and the Joint Chiefs agreeing to my reinstatement as Commander of the SGC the way things are at the moment, and although it is nice to think you can wave your magic wand over me and have everything back to normal, it just isn’t going to happen.”
Shit! Did I really just say that? I thought I had ordered myself to engage my brain before opening my mouth? I obviously didn’t even obey my own orders.
I saw the frown on Hayes’ face, and hurried on. “General Jumper made it quite clear to me that he thinks I’m a loose cannon that’s being unduly influenced by our alien allies. It’s obvious he doesn’t trust me, and frankly, even if you did get me back my command, I wouldn’t want it under those circumstances. Now, I don’t know why the General has formed this opinion of me. Only a few months ago he was here and gave me his full support. Something has happened to change that, and we need to find out what it is.” I saw his dawning comprehension, and hammered the facts home. “I shouldn’t even be here. I’ve made sure no one who has seen us on the base has been allowed to communicate that fact to anyone outside the Control Room. We can use this situation to our advantage, sir.”
“How so, General?” He leaned forward, his elbows on the table.
“Whoever is behind the attempts on our lives has been planning for a very long time. I don’t think they would have relied solely on those two agents. There are other ways of undermining a government, and influencing people in a position of power could be even more effective than assassination.”
“Are you suggesting there is someone orchestrating General Jumper’s actions?”
“Yes, sir, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” I hastened to continue. “I’m not saying that the General is involved, sir, just that we should try and find out why he no longer trusts me.”
“I agree with General O’Neill’s assessment of the situation, Mr President. We need to investigate the reasons for General Jumper’s change of heart.” I nodded my thanks to Agent Taylor, grateful for his support.
“So how do you want to handle this, Jack? I assume you have a plan?” I saw the glint in the President’s eyes, and was reminded that this was the man who had apparently faced down Anubis in the Oval Office.
“Would you like to come to my place for dinner, Mr President?”
I was pleased to see I hadn’t lost my capacity to confuse.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
One of the many advantages to having a direct line to the Supreme Commander of the Asgard Fleet was the ability to call on his help whenever he was in the neighbourhood. I left the situation at the SGC in the more than capable hands of Colonels Harper and Carter, and President Hayes, Stan, and I took our own personal flashy beam cab service to my home.
After pulling the drapes and turning on a few lights, I took a quick look around to make sure there was nothing too offensive lying about the living room. Nope – in fact it looked remarkably mess and dust free. My team must have been carrying on the tradition from our old days on SG-1 of looking after each other’s houses. I was touched that they had made the effort, despite not knowing when I’d return.
“Please sit down, sir.” I gestured to a lounge chair, and took a seat opposite him. Stan did just what I expected him to do – began a quick recon.
I had laid my plan out to Hayes before we left the base. It was simple. Go somewhere where we wouldn’t be disturbed, and get Thor to beam in General Jumper. He would have no choice but to listen with the President sitting right beside me, and hopefully we could persuade him to discuss the matter. I wanted to make it as unthreatening as possible though, avoiding the possibility of inquisitive ears hearing what they shouldn’t, and to that end I had suggested the dinner at my house. Hopefully the conditioning of politeness to your host would win over anger and give us time to talk.
An essential part of my plan was – food.
Damn.
I excused myself, and hurried to the kitchen. It didn’t take a lot of time to work out that there was nothing suitable to feed the President of the United States and the Air Force Chief of Staff. At least not unless they would be happy with some stale crackers and a tin of crushed tomatoes.
I popped my head back around the door. “Would you like a coke, sir?”
“I’d rather have a beer if you’ve got one, Jack. It isn’t often I get to have dinner in private nowadays. Usually I’m dining with heads of state and smiling for the camera.” He grinned up at me. “And have one yourself. I hate drinking alone.”
I snagged two bottles of warm beer and a can of coke from the cupboard and made my way back to the living room.
“Sorry, sir. I forgot the refrigerator would be turned off.” He took the beer I held out anyway, and I placed the coke on the coffee table for Stan when he got back from whatever part of my house he was giving an in-depth examination. I knew better than to offer alcohol to the agent, he was way out of his comfort zone as it was with the President sitting in a private house miles from Washington and unprotected apart from one agent and an Air Force general of dubious pedigree. I didn’t think he would be drinking a beer any time soon.
“We’ll have to order pizzas, sir.”
The look on the President’s face was priceless. I don’t think he got to eat pizza very often these days.
Stan was back with us by the time I had phoned our order in to the local pizza parlour. Funny, the agent hadn’t looked like a ham and pineapple sort of person to me. Just goes to show that appearances can be deceiving.
Then we put together the next - and just recently added - part of my plan. We needed an extra person on the guest list. I pressed the button on my Asgard communication device and General Maynard suddenly appeared in front of us, dressed in casual clothes, with a mug in his hand, and a look of incredulity on his face, abruptly changing to alertness within a second as his training kicked in.
“Francis.” Hayes held his hand up, making sure the chairman of the Joint Chiefs saw him.
“Mister President?” He turned slowly, seeing Agent Taylor, and relaxed his stance. The knuckles of the hand he held the mug in regained their colour. “What’s going on? How did I get here? And where is here?”
“Shall we just say, General O’Neill has friends in high places.”
“You’re in my home, sir.” I held out my hand. “May I take your cup?”
He gave it to me, more I think out of instinct than necessity, and I placed it on the coffee table next to the beer bottles and listened while President Hayes explained.
I didn’t know General Maynard well, but I did know he was a strong supporter of the Stargate Program. We needed to get him on board. Okay – I had to be honest – I needed him. I needed another player in my corner, someone that Jumper could relate to and not just take orders from.
It didn’t take him long to agree to go along with my plan, but with reservations. It was the shock of the news of the attempted assassination that brought him round to my way of thinking. A quick call to his family to explain his sudden absence from his den, and he sat back.
I signalled Thor and within two minutes the guest of honour had arrived.
Just as the doorbell rang.
“I’ll get it, Jack.”
Shit!
I don’t know who moved faster, Stan or I. We both managed to leap in front of Hayes before he left the living room. He gave us an abashed look and sat down again. I took the pizzas, keeping the door as closed as possible, and walked back to the waiting men.
General Jumper was seething.
I brought plates, napkins, and some now slightly cold beer from the kitchen, and took my uniform jacket and tie off. Hayes followed suit, hanging his jacket over the back of a chair.
General Jumper still seethed.
He didn’t say anything. But, boy, was he pissed.
“Mister President…”
Hayes interrupted him.
“Have a piece of pizza, John.”
“No thank you, sir…”
“Go ahead. I insist.” Hayes held out a beer. “Here, have this to wash it down.”
I pulled a piece of pepperoni pizza from the cardboard and took a bite, hoping against hope that the plan was working.
Jumper kept looking from one to the other of us, General Maynard sharing the ham and pineapple pizza with Agent Taylor, and the President and I sipping our beers. He took a slice from the nearest box and held it as if it was about to leap out and bite him.
The President’s voice broke the silence.
“I’m going to give Jack the Air Medal, John.”
I interrupted. “Ah –“ And then paused, swallowing. Should I say something or not? The questioning look from Hayes answered that one for me. Aw, hell, me and my big mouth. “Umm, excuse me, sir, but I already have that one.”
“You do?”
“Yes, sir.”
There was another moment of silence, this time broken by General Maynard. “If I may suggest, Mr President, I think that given the circumstances, Jack should be awarded the Air Force Cross.”
Hayes smiled. “Sounds good to me. What do you think, John?”
Jumper looked like he was going to burst. I could almost hear his strangled protests, but to give him credit he managed a very reasonable answer.
“I think I would like to know what’s going on.”
“Funny, that was exactly what I was going to ask you.” The President relaxed back on the chair cushions, his hands interlaced behind his head, his legs outstretched and crossed at the ankles – his body language screaming that he was in charge, and knew it. “I’d like to know why a man who has done so much for this country is being treated like a pariah by his superior.”
“Is that what this is all about?” Jumper lived up to his name and jumped to his feet. “If General O’Neill has any problems with his punishment for disobeying orders he should have gone through the right channels, and not come running to you, sir.”
“If he’d done that, the President would be dead now, John.” Jumper stilled and stared at General Maynard.
“What are you talking about?”
“John.” Hayes took up the story. “Jack came to you with a warning today. You chose to ignore it, and when he realized the consequences of that, Jack managed to make it into the Oval Office and save my life, almost losing his own in the process. It’s only because of the good graces of the Asgard that he is with us tonight. Now I’d like to know exactly what information you had that could possibly make you ignore a threat like that.”
General Jumper looked over to me in consternation and I suddenly felt like finding a corner to hide in while the grownups had their discussion. His face paled as the President described what had happened.
“But that can’t be right. I was assured there was no danger to you, sir.” He found his way back to his seat, looking like an old man, hunched over and aching. “That it was just a ploy by General O’Neill to get his command back.”
Okay, now it was my turn to be pissed, and it didn’t look like I was the only one. Both General Maynard and President Hayes leaned forward. It was the President who spoke first.
“Why in God’s name would you believe that?”
“I don’t get it, John. You were the one who recommended General O’Neill for sole command of the program.” Maynard’s forehead creased into a frown. “Given Jack’s service record, what could possibly have made you change your mind?”
“That’s just it.” Jumper gave me a quick glance as if weighing up what he was about to say. “I was given information that put a completely different slant on the events in his record.”
I spoke for the first time. After all, it was my career we were discussing, and I wanted to know who was trying to destroy it. “What information?”
“Some of your actions behind enemy lines during Operation Desert Storm were questionable. Several of your comrades were put at risk by your disobeying orders. One of the worst examples was the operation in which you were captured. You disobeyed an order to retreat, resulting in the deaths of two of your teammates, and your own capture.”
“What! Son of a bitch!”
I shrugged off Stan’s hands, and stopped my forward momentum.
“How dare you!” He might be my boss, but what he accused me of gave me the right to be angry. “I obeyed my orders to the letter. Nothing I could have done would have saved those men. I had four months to play that mission over and over in my head, and it was just bad luck, nothing more. How dare you even suggest I was the cause of their deaths.”
“Just a minute, Jack.” General Maynard stood. “Calm down.”
“Calm down! Don’t stand there and tell me to calm down. Not once…” I swallowed down the shout and paused. When I resumed I did it in a calm voice, spitting every word from between my gritting teeth. “Not once have I ever put a teammate in danger through disobeying orders. I’ve done many things I’m not proud of, but they have all been because I’ve been ordered to, and I resent the implication that I would ever do otherwise.”
I stood and glared. If I had had a glove I probably would have slapped it across Jumper’s face and challenged him to a duel.
Maybe I had one in the bedroom.
“Jack.” The President’s warning tone was like a bucket of cold water in my face. I moved back a step and sat back down, Maynard following suit a moment later.
“I think we need to clear this up immediately, don’t we gentlemen?” Hayes reached out and grabbed his beer. Should I have given him a glass? The improbable sight of the President of the United States sitting in my favourite chair, eating pizza and drinking beer from the bottle, suddenly struck me, and I was hard pressed to not pinch myself to see if I was asleep.
I blinked, trying to clear my fron and concentrate.
Oh crap!
Now was not the time to revert to Ancient. I had to focus, and not let my emotions take over.
“Jack? You okay?”
I looked into the President’s concerned face and nodded. “I’m fine, sir, thank you.”
“Then let’s get down to business.” He turned back to General Jumper. “Where did you get this information?”
For a second I thought Jumper wasn’t going to answer, but then he spoke, his voice clear.
“It was an impeccable source, Mr President. Retired General Peter Ramsey.”
Ramsey.
I felt my heart freeze over, and for a second was back down under the ice.
Ramsey.
“Do you know General Ramsey, Jack?”
“Oh yes sir, I know him.” I glared coldly at General Maynard. “He was my CO for a time when I was in Special Ops.”
And a more devious son of a bitch I had never met. He had made it clear from the first moment I saw him that he hated me. Once, when I had had enough drink to loosen my normally careful tongue, I had asked him what I had done to him to make him feel like that towards me. I’ll never forget the chilling look in his eyes when he had answered. I had done nothing. He just didn’t like me, and that was enough for a man like him. He was used to removing obstacles from his path and I just refused to move.
He had been the one to deny Frank Cromwell’s request to launch a rescue mission for me when I was captured.
He had been the one to suggest my name to General West for the first mission to Abydos.
Maybe, on reflection, I should thank him. I would never have walked through the Stargate if it hadn’t been for Ramsey.
How long had Ramsey been working behind the scenes, undermining everything I tried to do?
And how to explain it to the men sitting here with me?
Then I had a brilliant flash of inspiration. We had been assuming that whoever had been influencing General Jumper was a part of the conspiracy to undermine the government. Taking that thought one step further, and they were in league with the Goa’uld.
Now that we had a name, could we backtrack communications between the two?
It was with a shock that I realised just how far ahead of the others I had leapt. But then I had an advantage –Ramsey was a lying bastard. Now it was up to me to convince the others of it.
I started by being honest. I told the three men exactly what my relationship with Ramsey had been. It wasn’t pretty.
I admit, I didn’t like him either, and just might have inflamed the situation somewhat. Yes, surprising though it was to think it, I could be annoying at times. One of the main problems I had had with the then Colonel Ramsey, had been when I was seconded on special missions. He hadn’t liked that one little bit, especially as he could get no information about them. I remembered coming back from one assignment, exhausted after three days without sleep tracking a target through hostile terrain, and being ordered out before I had even had a shower.
That had been the pig of an operation that had almost cost me my life.
I caught General Jumper nodding when I related this story, and wondered if it had been one of the incidents told to him by Ramsey. By the time I had finished, I knew it was. Maynard flinched when I described the result. The botched instructions for the drop zone. The chute that didn’t open that I hadn’t had time to pack myself – breaking every personal safety rule I had. The walk back through the desert. And, after nine days with a fractured skull and various broken bones, and several weeks in hospital, the reprimand placed on my file by my caring CO.
At some point in my narrative, someone put whiskey at my elbow, and I found myself sipping, allowing myself the brief indulgence because of the exceptional circumstances. Funnily, the level of the liquid never seemed to drop, and as more and more Ancient slipped into my speech, I realised what they were trying to do.
It worked. I found myself saying things I would never normally have revealed. Deep down I knew I was doing the right thing. It was more than just my career at risk here. They had to know what sort of person Ramsey was.
And by the time I had finished speaking, they did. From the role he played as my CO right through to his spurned advances that first week I had been under his command, the groping hands on me in his office, and the spit I had left on his face.
I had no proof, but it sure was a reason.
When I finally finished, I realised just how good these men were at what they did, and why they had gained the positions they had. They had beaten down my defences as if they were made of matchsticks.
“I’m sorry, Jack.” Jumper held his hand out to me, and I shook it. “I should have listened to George Hammond. And I shouldn’t have taken Ramsey’s information at face value. It’s just that I’ve known him for a long time.” I could see by the stunned look in his face that my revelations had shaken him to the core.
“I’ll go warm up the pizza.”
Let’s face it, I don’t do emotion well and I needed to get away from their looks of understanding mixed with pity.
When I returned from the kitchen, the reheated pizza in hand, I found a council of war. Now that Ramsey had been identified as a member of the conspiracy, we had a starting point to begin to trace the other members and weed them out, but it had to be handled carefully. There was still some uncertainty about who we could trust.
Well, I knew some people I could trust.
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
I hadn’t told them what was going on at all, ever mindful of unsecured lines, so they walked right into the middle of it with no warning.
Daniel actually staggered back. I give Carter credit, she stiffened and her face blanked into the perfect military officer. Teal’c’s reaction, of course, didn’t surprise me. He raised an eyebrow and bowed, the twitch of his lips visible only to someone who knew him very well.
“Come on in, kids. Want a drink?”
“Thank you, General O’Neill.” Teal’c took up a position behind the chair I had vacated to answer the door. “I do not require refreshment. I partook of the noon meal just before I left the rebel Jaffa.” He actually smiled then. “I am glad to see you home at last.”
I heard the depth of meaning behind his words and smiled in response. “Back at ya, T.”
“Here, Colonel Carter.” General Maynard moved some papers from beside him. “Take a seat and we’ll show you what we need.”
“Sir.” She gingerly sat, awkward at first, but relaxing as the chairman of the Joint Chiefs explained what was happening.
“Ah, Jack? Can I speak to you for a minute.”
I followed Daniel into the kitchen, taking the opportunity to dispose of some of the empties.
“What’s going on? Yesterday you were pushing paper around an office in Washington, today you’re having the President round to dinner. Care to explain.”
I raised my hands and opened them wide. “Hey, Daniel, what can I say? I’m an enigma wrapped in a conundrum.”
“More like a genius wrapped in a kid that never grew up.” He sniggered as he opened the fridge, sighing when he realised there was only beer inside. “Trust you to fall into a pile of manure and come up smelling like roses.”
“Well, I’ll tell you one thing for free, Doctor Jackson. You saved the President’s life today.” I put a hand on his shoulder and steered him back out and into the living room. “Come on, I’ll explain how your annoying phone calls may have stopped a Goa’uld plan for domination of our planet.”
I grinned at the scene. Teal’c was eyeballing Stan from his guard position behind my chair. Stan stood behind the President’s, a perfect bookend to the Jaffa. It was obvious where each man’s loyalty lay.
Carter had forgotten her initial reaction to all the brass in the room, and was animatedly conferring with Jumper and Maynard, her ever-present laptop open on the coffee table in front of her.
Hayes gestured Daniel over and offered him pizza. The President seemed to be making his pizza last for a very long time, savouring every mouthful. I pictured a regular delivery being arranged to the White House from now on.
As I watched, I put thought to what I could do to help. All the bases seemed to be covered here at the moment, but what about when the communications were traced, what then? Then it hit me. We had a floating resource right above our heads. Why not use it?
A quick word to the others, a buzz to Thor, a press of a magic button, and I found myself beamed up to the ‘O’Neill II’.
A few minutes later we had the hologram communication system set up. It was as if Thor and I were sitting with the others, except we had access to the ship’s computers and tracking devices.
We worked like a well-oiled machine. Carter relayed information to us as she found it, and Thor and I entered it into the Asgard computers. At first it was frustrating, as each snippet of downloaded communication petered out before we could make anything of it, but after I boosted the power input things started to become clear.
There had been numerous communications between Ramsey and the Goa’uld over the time period we could access, dating back months. One turned my stomach.
I had been set up and Janet had paid for it. The moment SG-13 had set foot on that planet with the Ancient ruins, the Goa’uld had been informed. Dixon was right – they had been waiting for me, and they had known I was coming. Ramsey had seen to that. It had only been luck that saved my life that day.
I saw the moment the rest of my team realised the implications in what they were hearing. I saw Daniel shut his eyes as if in pain, Carter put her hand to her mouth, and Teal’c stiffen. And I felt a crack form deep inside myself, knowing that yet again, a friend had been lost because of me
o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o
“General O’Neill.” Sergeant Kelly smiled at me as I signed in at Paper Pusher Central. “It’s good to see you back, Sir.”
I smiled back. “Oh, I’m not back, Sergeant, at least not for long. I’m just here to collect a couple of things from my old office.”
He took the pen and returned it to its holder. “Have you been reassigned, Sir?”
“You could say that, Sergeant. I’m going back to my old command.”
“I’m sorry to see you go, sir.”
I bent and picked up my briefcase from beside me, turning to walk to the elevators. “Thanks, Kelly.”
I headed down to see Captain Hoffman and have the same conversation with her while putting the few personal items I had in the desk drawers into the case. I looked around at the dull, boring office and grinned, determined to never ever do anything to risk returning to a place like this.
As I left, I had a sudden thought.
“Captain, I’d like you to come to a little ceremony being held in a couple of hours.” I wrote the details on a post-it note. “That’s if you’d like to. It isn’t an order.”
She read the note and nodded, smiling. “I’d be happy to come, General.”
Sweet.
She was clever, a good conversationalist, and as an added bonus, wasn’t bad looking.
I wasn’t her commanding officer anymore.
Sweet.
I started whistling as I walked down the corridor.
Two hours, twenty minutes later and I was standing, new ribbon pinned to my chest, making nice to the assorted dignitaries.
A tap on my arm had me turning to find the beaming face of General George Hammond behind me, my team alongside him.
“I heard you’ve been busy while I’ve been gone.” He patted my chest like a proud father. “Congratulations, son, it’s well deserved. And you’ve got the SGC back. I knew you would.”
“Yes, sir.” His obvious approval meant more to me than all the others combined.
“I suppose it’s pointless telling you to not do anything to risk losing it again.”
I grinned. Honesty is the best policy, after all.
“Probably is, sir.”
I must have said something funny, because they all laughed.
It was then that I saw him, standing over at the side of the room, staring at me.
Ramsey.
I quelled the desire to kill that stinking excuse for a human being, and pasted an insincere smile on my face.
“Excuse me a moment. I’ve just spotted an old acquaintance.”
I knew the others were watching curiously as I approached my ex-CO.
The trick here was not to act any differently to the way he would expect. The last thing we needed was to let him know we were on to him, knowing one of the top people in the enemies’ camp was much more valuable than the satisfaction of kicking his ass in front of everyone.
“Mr Ramsey.”
“General Ramsey, O’Neill. It is customary to address a retired officer by his rank.”
I didn’t dignify that with an answer.
“What are you doing here?”
He glanced around, obviously noting eyes watching the guest of honor, and took a sip of his drink. “Just keeping tabs on your career, Jack. I must say I was surprised to hear about this little ceremony.” His eyes flickered to the figure of General Jumper talking to Hammond, but were back on me almost immediately.
“Cut the crap, you over ripe piece of offal. I’m not under your command any more and frankly, if you don’t get out of here within the next five seconds I’ll take you out back and shoot you.”
He blinked, breaking eye contact. I saw the sweat begin to bead on his shiny, bald forehead. “I see you haven’t changed a bit, O’Neill. You always were a rude, insubordinate prick” His voice was an icy whisper. “God knows how you managed to get where you are”
“Well it wasn’t by rolling over for people like you, Ramsey.” I smiled again, and knew the man heard the hidden meaning behind my words. He flushed, and his eyes flickered again, but this time to a young man standing at the bar. No, he hadn’t changed, any more than I had.
“I believe your five seconds are well and truly up. Don’t be here when I come back.” I stepped back and held my hand out. He took it, a look of apprehension on his face. I raised my voice slightly. “Good to see you again, sir. We must get together and catch up one day soon.”
I turned and headed for the men’s, knowing he’d be gone when I returned.
That lying piece of scum was going to pay.
The End
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