Trojan Horse

Chapter One

October 13th

A civilian in command of the SGC.

Jack hadn’t thought that he would ever see the day. It wasn’t that he had anything against civilians, or anything, but he had never expected that the Air Force would ever agree to turn one of their most vital commands, if not the most vital, over to the control of a civilian, let alone a civilian with no experience of working on a military base.

There was no doubt in his mind that this was a political appointment, but who was it who had wanted Dr Elizabeth Weir in command of the SGC, and why? General Hammond had indicated that the President was looking towards the future, when the Stargate Program went public, and wanted the SGC to be led by a figurehead who was known internationally and who would present a friendlier, more acceptable public face than a military general would.

“I’ve heard of her.” Daniel seemed to be one of the few people at the SGC who knew anything about their new boss and he filled the rest of the team in on what he knew as they gathered together in the commissary for breakfast. “She's an expert in international politics. She mediates top level negotiations for the UN. I’m surprised that you haven’t heard about her, Sam,” he added, “her work on behalf of the 4400 is well known.”

“The name’s not ringing any bells.”

“She was the one who coordinated the international claimants in the class action suit brought against NTAC, the one that forced them to release you guys from Quarantine in the first place. She was also instrumental in putting together the international Charter of 4400 Rights,” he said, referring to what had been a very controversial international agreement put together after word of the first 4400s to develop powers had become public news and concerns had been raised about military exploitation of those abilities.

“She didn’t have anything to do with the inhibitor, did she?” Jack asked suspiciously. Since the full story had broken about the promicin inhibitor, and the number of influential people involved in it, Jack had been even more pissed off about it than Sam – and considering how angry she was over the whole thing, that was saying something.

“No, there hasn’t been any indication that she even knew about it. It was all Dennis Ryland and his people. Even most of the doctors giving the shot never knew what it was.”

“Or so he’s saying.” Jack muttered sceptically.

“Janet didn’t know.” Sam pointed out.

Walter entered the commissary, scanning the room and, spotting SG-1, he hastened over to their table and addressed Mitchell. “Excuse me, sir, but Dr Weir asked to see you in her office.”

“What have you been up to now, Mitchell?” Jack asked in a long-suffering tone.

The other man grinned good-naturedly. “I guess I’m about to find out, sir.” He responded, excusing himself and following Walter out of the commissary.

“The trial of Dennis Ryland begins today, does it not?” Teal’c observed, seeing the serious expression on Sam’s face and the mention of the inhibitor and guessing the cause.

“Yes.” Sam nodded confirmation.

“The son of a bitch is going to get what’s coming to him, Carter, just wait and see.” Jack said encouragingly. “He’s going to rot in jail for a long time.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that, sir.” Sam responded grimly. “There was a poll on TV last night – ninety percent of respondents believed that Ryland was right to do what he did. He nearly killed us – he did kill twenty-eight of us – and they believed that he was still right to try!”

“Well, the ten percent who aren’t idiots still know that he was wrong, and when the rest of them come to their senses they’ll realize it too.” Jack said in a calming tone, noticing her use of the word ‘us’ but deciding against calling her on it, especially when she was already angry.

“He’s right, Sam,” Daniel agreed, “it’s a lot for people to get used to, that all of the 4400s are going to have powers, and the idea of that change frightens them but once they get used to it, they’ll realize that you were given your powers for a reason and that Ryland was wrong to try to interfere. You’ll see.”

“Before the trial?” She asked pointedly, knowing that none of them could promise that people would see sense so soon, or that the demonstrations in Ryland’s favour wouldn’t secure him an acquittal, despite being responsible for the deaths of twenty-eight innocent people, each of whom had had a part to play in ensuring the survival of the human race.

They ate their breakfast, in silence save for an occasional remark, for a few minutes until Mitchell returned and took his place at the table, a rather dazed expression on his face. He didn’t say anything as he sat down, picking up a piece of toast but he didn’t eat anything.

“What the Hell did she say to you?” Jack demanded, wondering what could possibly have stunned his second-in-command into silence.

“I’ve been transferred off SG-1.”

Those five words were greeted with stunned silence, which was finally broken by Daniel.

“She can’t do that!”

“She’s in charge now, Daniel.” Jack reminded him impatiently. “She’s within her rights if she wants to shuffle the teams, or to have people transferred away from the SGC altogether. Has she said which team you’re being transferred to?” He asked Mitchell.

“She’s given me command of SG-3.” Now that the initial surprise was wearing off, Mitchell was starting to see a silver lining to the cloud. He loved being a member of SG-1, and had learned a lot from each of his friends during the two and a half years he had been on the team, but he couldn’t deny that the idea of having his own command had its appeal.

“But they’re Marines.” Daniel objected, looking from Jack to Sam before turning back to Mitchell. “If you’re in the Air Force, can you even be in command of Marines?”

“Yes, but it’s not usually the norm.” Jack answered, wondering exactly how much Dr Weir knew about the ins and outs of a military operation – and why she seemed to be so determined to make splitting up SG-1 her first official act. “Excuse me.” He said curtly, rising and leaving the commissary to seek out the new commander of the SGC.

“You know, that could definitely be an upside.” Mitchell remarked as Jack left, a slow grin spreading over his face. “I’ll get to order Marines around!”

It was certainly not an inviting room, Weir thought, as she surveyed her new domain, noting the large window looking out over the briefing room. If she left it open, then anyone who passed by would be free to look in on her, and she could forget the idea of having any privacy but if, on the other hand, she chose to close the blinds, it would look very forbidding, as though she was shutting herself off from the base she was supposed to be running. Once she had placed her own books on the shelves, some pictures on the wall and some personal ornaments on the desk it would make a difference, but this office was never going to be what she would call a comfortable place to be.

She knew full well how important appearance and body language were, but this assignment was completely unlike any of her previous ones and she was feeling out of her depth, something she didn’t want her new colleagues to pick up on. She had decided against having the base personnel assembled for a formal introduction, deeming it impersonal and, knowing that she would soon come to know those she was working with even without it, she felt it was better to get to know them on a one to one basis.

“Enter.” She called in response to the loud and insistent knocking on her door. “Colonel O’Neill.” She greeted when the man entered, thankful that she had a good memory for faces and that she had read through the files of the senior officers.

“Dr Weir.” He nodded briefly, but didn’t take a seat when she indicated that he should do so. “I need to talk to you.”

“About what, Colonel?”

“About the fact that you’re dismantling my team without consulting me.” He stated, without beating about the bush. Jack had been through this business before with Bauer when he had temporarily taken command of the SGC and he had no desire to repeat the experience.

“There’s a big difference between one transfer and splitting the whole team, don’t you think?” She observed in a carefully neutral tone, watching his reaction closely as she spoke, noting that he stiffened slightly at the mention of the possibility that the whole team could be separated.

“Is that the long term plan?” The question was blunt, but his tone was more restrained than it had been before.

“It’s not.”

Long experience of diplomatic negotiations had taught Weir the importance of masking one’s emotions and she had to inwardly applaud the poker face of the man standing before her. All she had heard of Colonel O’Neill indicated that he was a man who cared deeply about his team and that he would fight to keep them together – she had been able to gather that much from his willingness to challenge his new commander over her decision to transfer a member of his team away – but once she had alluded to the idea of Major Mitchell not being the only one to be transferred, he had tried to keep his emotions and his temper in check.

“There were some concerns about the concentration of experience and expertise on SG-1,” she told him, sparing him the discomfort of having to ask, “and as SG-3 was without a leader, having two experienced majors on one team seemed senseless. I understand that Major Mitchell has seniority over Major Carter, and your own evaluations have indicated that he is an excellent officer, so he seemed an ideal candidate for the vacant command position, don’t you agree?”

Jack nodded slowly, unable to fault the logic of her decision. Mitchell, like Sam, was an excellent officer and he had never expected that either of them would be left on the team under his command indefinitely. When SG-3 lost their commanding officer, General Hammond would probably have looked to one of the two majors on SG-1 for a replacement, and it was very likely that he would have made the exact same decision that Dr Weir had made, so why was he so irritated?

It wasn’t until he had actually left the office that it struck him; General Hammond would have spoken with him first, as a courtesy even if he wasn’t actually seeking his permission, or even his opinion about whether he should offer command to Mitchell or to Sam. Dr Weir had made her decision, and hadn’t even told him, leaving him to find out from Mitchell and, as far as he was concerned, that was not a good beginning.

Weir waited until he had left her office before exhaling softly, wondering what exactly she had gotten herself into.

When she had first been chauffeured to the White House, ushered into an office and told of the job she was being offered, she had been convinced that it was somebody’s idea of a joke.

An ancient device discovered in Egypt that allowed people to be transported to planets all over the galaxy? A race of parasitical alien beings that used humans as hosts and who assumed the roles of the gods of Earth mythology? Mechanical blocks that formed into deadly bugs, led by a woman crafted from microscopic metal blocks? A secret command that had already stood between the planet and total destruction several times?

And they expected her to assume leadership of it?

It was no exaggeration to say that she had had some serious concerns about the President’s sanity when he had told her that.

“The position was vacated very recently, and you were the best person I could think of for the job.” There was no doubt that President Hayes could be a very charming man when he so chose and he had hit her with the full force of that charm when he was coaxing her to take the job.

“What happened to their last commander, General Hammond?” She had half-expected to hear that he had been killed, but what she heard was even more surprising.

“After he called General Bauer... some less than diplomatic names, I had to ask him to retire.”

“Retire?” That had surprised her, given what she knew of the military. “He’s not in prison for insulting one of the Joint Chiefs?”

Hayes shrugged. “He’s an old friend – and it’s not like he said anything that everyone who’s ever met Bauer hasn’t wanted to say at some point or another.” As she had had the displeasure of meeting General Bauer, she could appreciate that. “So what do you say? Can I count on you?”

There had been little she could say to that save ‘Yes’.

She may not have asked for the job, but she had it, and she was going to do the best she possibly could with it.

Strictly speaking, they shouldn’t have been allowed to watch television while on duty, but under the circumstances, Jack gathered his team – including Mitchell, who he still considered to still be a member of SG-1 in everything but name – in his office to watch the coverage of the hearing, knowing that it wasn’t just Sam who needed the closure of seeing Ryland get what was coming to him.

Given that he was being investigated for the part he had played in the deaths of twenty-eight people, one would have expected Ryland to be nervous and remorseful, but he spoke calmly, with measured confidence, as he explained the rationale behind his decision to institute the inhibitor program.

‘The son of a bitch doesn’t even think that he was wrong to do it!’ Jack thought in disgust as he watched.

“The world has changed.” Ryland stated flatly. Sam got the distinct impression that he was speaking as much for the benefit of the cameras in the room, and for the millions of people who were watching coverage of the hearing, as for the panel who were to determine his degree of culpability. “Everything is different now. The Promicin Inhibitor Program was an international effort. Its goal was to prevent the coming of a world dominated by a tiny fraction of the population. In short, we were doing everything we could to prevent the 4400 from developing extra-human capabilities. We believe that without the inhibitor program, these abilities would show up in virtually every one of the 4400.”

“I don’t believe this!” Mitchell muttered, disgusted by what he was hearing. “He’s not even trying to deny what he did.”

“Dennis Ryland’s part in the Promicin Inhibitor Program is too well documented for him to entertain any hope of being able to plead ignorance, or to claim that he was not aware of the extent to which it was used worldwide,” Teal’c observed logically. “His only hope is to persuade others that his efforts were necessary, and that his decision to initiate the program was the right one.”

“And he seems to be doing a pretty good job of it.” Sam commented bitterly. Ryland was playing on fears that had existed since word of the extraordinary abilities the 4400 had been gifted with had first become known to the public, and people were responding.

“I don’t think I need to explain to this committee why that would be something less than the best-case scenario,” Ryland continued, his tone bordering on self-righteous. “Overnight, normal human beings, like you and I, and all the institutions we’ve come to rely on would be obsolete. The program wasn’t perfect. People got sick. Some died. That was not our intent.”

“Yet they didn’t come clean about it, even when everyone started getting sick or when they knew that it was killing people.” Daniel remarked, scowling.

“If people like Dr Burkhoff had known what the problem was straight away, we’d have had a cure sooner, and lost fewer people.” Sam agreed.

“But now it’s gone.” Ryland stated flatly, as though this was something to be sorry about. “And the future we were trying to prevent is here, and we are not ready. I believe it comes down to a question of power. Who is going to hold it? Us or them? Because, believe me, it’s going to come down to us against them.”

And that was it, Sam thought. Ryland had drawn a line between the 4400 and the rest of the population, dividing them into two distinct groups and setting one group against the other.

“People are going to see through that crap, Carter.” Jack tried to reassure her.

“I’m not so sure, sir.”

“Every day, the 4400 are changing and getting stronger. Instead of mobilizing to meet this challenge, we’re wringing our hands and trying to determine who knew what when.” Ryland continued, effectively turning those investigating him into the bad guys of the situation, “I will save this committee the trouble and expense of a long investigation. The inhibitor program was my idea. I was proud to lead it.” He gestured towards a chart, with the pictures of the six men named as his chief co-conspirators. The men on this board were simply following my orders. If there’s blame to be assigned, it’s mine. Mine alone.”

Sam was seriously tempted to turn off the television, if only to spare herself the irritation of having to listen to Ryland’s rhetoric as he justified his actions but her need to see how the hearing played out won, and she watched as the one of the members of the committee quizzed Ryland over his insistence that he and he alone had been responsible for the program, that there had been no approval at a higher level.

If there had been, it was unlikely that they would never find out.

Ryland’s words were interrupted by a steady whine, like feedback from a microphone, audible even through the television. Once it dissipated, the questioning resumed, but Ryland’s lawyer seemed to be very agitated, tugging on his client’s sleeve and speaking in a hissed whisper.

For the first time since the hearing had begun, Ryland looked discomfited, but that was nothing compared to his shock and horror when his own lawyer snatched a penknife from his briefcase and stabbed him in the stomach and chest.

Chapter Two

October 14th

“This is a message from the Nova Group. We are the defensive wing of the 4400. Today, the world has seen what happens to those who try to harm us. A second demonstration of our capabilities is planned for October 19th. A new era dawns.”

After the recording finished playing, the members of SG-1 sat in silence around the briefing table, absorbing what they just heard.

“That message was sent to NTAC today, and to all of the major news stations.” Weir said quietly, looking around at her new colleagues. “The six men accused of conspiring with Ryland regarding the Promicin Inhibitor Program have all been found dead. Ryland is still alive, but his condition is critical. The exact causes of death vary, but it is believed that they were all killed by a 4400 ability. This Nova Group has claimed responsibility.”

“And it sounds as though they’re pretty pissed off.” Jack stated.

Sam wasn’t surprised, she had half-expected that there would be reprisals of this nature; although she didn’t interact with other 4400s frequently, she knew that there were quite a few of them who had become fed up of the suspicion directed at them, at being treated like outcasts, like freaks – and that had been before they found out that they had been systematically poisoned for the best part of two years.

Once it became clear that Ryland and his co-conspirators might actually get away with what they had done, it was hardly surprising that there would be some 4400s who would lose faith in the justice system and take the law into their own hands, exacting retribution as they saw fit and knowing that it was highly unlikely that their crimes could ever be proven against them, or even traced to them. Now that the inhibitor program had been discontinued, there was no way of telling what kind of abilities people had developed unless they chose to reveal them.

Although she did not condone the Nova Group’s actions in targeting the six men, and was faintly sickened by the contents of the report Weir was passing around, Sam also couldn’t deny that there was a part of her that was glad to know that they hadn’t been allowed to get away with what they had done and that thought disturbed her.

“What kind of demonstration do you think they’re talking about?” Daniel asked, directing his question at nobody in particular.

“I’m afraid that I don’t know any more than you do, Dr Jackson.” Weir responded. “NTAC are attempting to track down the members of this group before the 19th, in the hopes of preventing this demonstration altogether, but we’re going to need to be prepared. I understand that we have a list of people who are to be evacuated to the Alpha Site in case of a global threat?”

“The Genesis List.” Sam confirmed.

“Do you really think that will be necessary?” Daniel was surprised by their new leader’s question. “The 4400 were sent here to save humanity, after all – are they really going to do something that will put the planet in jeopardy?”

“I don’t know, Doctor, but I know that I don’t want to take any chances. I’d feel a lot better if the people on the Genesis List, along with all non-essential SGC personnel, were at the Alpha Site on the 19th. Colonel O’Neill, I trust that I can leave the arrangements for SGC personnel in your hands.” Jack nodded confirmation and Weir rose, signalling that the meeting was over. “Major Carter, could you join me in my office for a moment?”

Guessing what this was about, Sam followed the other woman into the small office, shutting the door behind her.

Weir sat down, indicating for Sam to do the same, then looked at her with keen eyes. “Major Carter, are you a member of the Nova Group?”

“No.” Although Sam was far from surprised at the question, she was taken aback by Weir’s even, almost bored tone, as though she was asking the question as a mere formality and considered it a complete waste of both of their time.

“Have you ever been contacted by the Nova Group?”

“No.”

“If you are contacted by the Nova Group, can I count on you to tell me?”

“Yes.”

“Thank you.” The faintest of smiles crossed her face. “You can go back to work now.”

Evening

“So do you think that NTAC are going to be able to track down the members of the Nova Group in time to stop this demonstration of theirs?” Jack asked in a would-be casual tone as he chopped meat and vegetables intended for a stir-fry. As cooking wasn’t exactly one of Sam’s many talents, he had decided long ago that the meal-related tasks were to be his.

She shrugged in response. “I don’t know. They were trying to keep a list of any 4400s who developed an ability, but very few of us actually registered with them, and unless we actually tell them or use our abilities in public or something, they have no way of knowing what any of us can do.”

“You know, you’ve been talking like that a lot lately,” Jack observed, keeping his tone calm. The last thing he wanted was to make Sam feel like she was being interrogated or accused.

“What do you mean?” She was genuinely puzzled by his observation.

“Referring to yourself and the other 4400s as ‘we’ and ‘us’.”

“No, I...” She trailed off, recalling the last few days. “I guess I have.” It was strange; she had never identified herself with the other 4400s much in the past, preferring to put as much distance between herself and 4400-related activities, like Collier’s ill-fated reunion, as possible but now, a part of her wanted to explore more about that aspect of her life, instead of trying to ignore it as she had before.

“I can understand why you’d feel that way,” Jack continued, leaving his food preparations and taking her hand in his, looking her in the eyes. “The way Ryland and his people are talking, they make it sound like there’s going to be some kind of war between 4400s and everyone else on the planet, but that’s not going to happen. I don’t give a damn if you floated in on a ball of light, and from what you told me about the future, anything you can do to stop that happening is good in my book. Eventually, people will come to their senses and realize what you can do to help and that they’d be idiots to try to keep you from doing it. If you want to, then maybe talking to other 4400s wouldn’t be a bad idea, but they’re not the only ones you can talk to, you know that, right?”

“I know.”

He studied her for a moment, before assuming a mock-serious expression. “Are you sure? Because I have other speeches saved up.”

She suppressed a laugh. “That’s okay.”

He huffed, trying to sound offended. “I work and I slave for hours over perfectly good speeches and you won’t even listen to them!” He muttered, before grinning and returning his attention to the food he was preparing.

“Maybe some other time,” She promised, trying to sound contrite. “Jack?” Her tone became more serious and when he looked up, she smiled at him. “Thanks.”

“Any time – get that, would you?” He asked as the phone began to ring. As he finished chopping the food and began heating the wok, he could hear snatches of Sam’s side of the conversation.

“... speaking... you serious?... afraid I’m not interested...”

When she returned after hanging up a couple of minutes later, her expression was serious.

“Something wrong?” Jack asked, concerned. “Who was that?”

Her response was calm. “The Nova Group.”

October 15th

“I don’t understand,” Weir was bewildered by what she was hearing. “Of all the people they could have contacted, surely the Nova Group wouldn’t seriously consider that an Air Force officer would be willing to join them – and, as far as they know, you don’t even have any special abilities.”

“She’d have good connections though, and access to a lot of confidential information.” Jack pointed out rationally.

“I don’t think that they seriously expected me to agree,” Sam told Weir thoughtfully, thinking back to her short conversation the night before. She had briefly considered pretending to go along with her would-be recruiter, but there was a very real possibility that the Nova Group had a telepath or something along those lines at their disposal, someone who could have unmasked her before she had the chance to learn anything useful. “The guy who called didn’t sound angry or annoyed or anything like that.”

“I suppose that they didn’t really have anything to lose by asking you.” Weir mused aloud. “The worst you could do was refuse – but thank you for letting me know about this. I’ll let NTAC and my superiors know, but there’s really very little they can do with it. Is there any chance that we can track the caller?”

“We ran a trace on the call, but it was made from a payphone in Seattle, and there are more than a thousand 4400s living there – and those are just the ones that we know about.” Sam answered. “Whoever made the call will be long gone by now.”

Weir nodded comprehension. “Finding the members of this group is NTAC’s job, we can’t interfere with that. How are things progressing on our end?”

“Nearly all of the people on the Genesis List have been contacted, we should be able to get in touch with the rest by the end of the day, and all SGC personnel have been instructed to report in on the 19th.” Jack reported.

“Good.” Weir sighed softly, hating the feeling of helplessness, of being unable to do anything else save wait. “We’ve done all we can. Now all we can do is wait for the Nova Group to make their move.”

October 18th

By 1700, all SGC personnel had reported in, and over the next two hours, the people who had been selected for places on the Genesis List had been transported to the base.

Most of them already knew the drill, as there had been close calls before, but a few needed to be quickly briefed on the method of transportation they would be using to travel from the base to the Alpha Site, and once they had been reassured that they would be perfectly safe, and that once the situation was resolved, they would be brought back to Earth immediately, coordinating the transportation of so many people had been a headache, to say the least but by 2100, they had all been gone.

Once all but the essential personnel had been evacuated, the base was quiet, almost eerily so.

Under the circumstances, it was understood that there would be very little work done – even Sam and Daniel, both infamous for their single-minded concentration on projects that interested them had been unable to focus on any of the tasks they had begun in their labs – and most of those who weren’t on security duty or manning the control room were gathered in the briefing room or in offices, keeping an eye on any news reports as they waited, watching the clocks tick towards midnight and wondering what it was the Nova Group had planned for the world.

Mitchell’s new team members had all been sent through to the Alpha Site but he elected to remain, and waited in the briefing room with Weir, SG-1, Janet and McKay.

“You know, Doctor,” Jack addressed Weir, “there probably isn’t much you can do here, if you’d rather go through to the Alpha Site...”

For a moment, she wondered if he was testing her, to see whether she was somebody who would flee at first opportunity or whether she would stand her ground with them, but there was no censure or judgement in his eyes. If she did leave, she knew that neither he nor anyone else would think less of her, but she had already made up her mind on that count.

“I’m staying right here, Colonel – or are you eager to get rid of me?” She teased lightly, glad to see him smile in return.

“Not at all.” Jack responded honestly. He may have had his reservations about her, but he had a feeling that Elizabeth Weir was going to fit right in at the SGC. ‘We could have got someone much worse.’

“So how prepared are they for this thing?” McKay had declined the offer to go through to the Alpha Site, something that many of the rest of those staying behind had come to regret.

“They’re taking every precaution they can, Doctor.” Weir tried to reassure him. “All commercial air traffic has been suspended for the day, and the National Guard has been deployed to likely targets.”

“‘Likely targets’?!” He all but squeaked. “That could mean practically anything – they weren’t able to narrow it down any further?”

“There’s still time for you to travel to the Alpha Site, if you would feel safer there, McKay.” Sam suggested, although she knew that he would refuse.

As Seattle seemed to be the focal point for most things 4400-related, the digital clock on one of the computer monitors had been set an hour behind and it was it they watched as it ticked from 23:59:59 to 00:00:00.

“Looks like the world’s still here.” Jack quipped half-heartedly.

McKay scowled at him. “For the moment.”

Time seemed to creep by slowly as they waited, fortified by several pots of coffee and cakes that Mitchell had brought up from the commissary, to hear something – anything – about what was going to happen.

The volume on the television was muted, but after almost four hours of waiting, something caught Daniel’s eye and, with a muttered “Oh my God!”, he turned up the volume.

“What is it? What happened?” McKay demanded, panicked.

“It’s the Nova Group.”

The reporter on the television was animated, clearly awestruck by what she was reporting on, a broad smile on her face. “Certainly ‘miracle’ is an imprecise term, but I’m not sure how else to describe it. To repeat: I’m broadcasting live from the Nubian Desert, north of Khartoum, where overnight a thousand acre patch of barren sand has somehow been transformed into fertile wheat fields. Scientists are at a loss to explain the conversion, but tests confirm that the wheat is real and edible.”

Weir could scarcely believe what she was hearing. “There hasn’t been food growing in that part of the world for more than two thousand years!”

“I don’t understand.” Daniel said. “Why would they go through all the trouble to make everybody so terrified of what was going to happen if they planned to give us a gift instead of attacking us?”

“Our station has just received a statement from the radical 4400 organization known as the Nova Group, claiming responsibility for this morning’s transformation.” The reporter announced.

The voice was distorted to prevent the speaker being identified but the words were clear.

“You are witnesses to the beginning of a new era. What happens next is up to you. The 4400 can be mankind’s greatest ally, or its most dangerous adversary.”

There was silence for a few moments as they digested the words, broken by Jack, who turned to Daniel. “Don’t kid yourself, Daniel, they might not have attacked anyone, but it’s still an act of aggression.”

“What do you mean?” Daniel asked, bewildered by his friend’s reaction.

“It’s a demonstration of power.” Sam explained quietly. “The Nova Group just showed that they can turn desert into fertile farmland...”

“Which is a good thing.” Daniel interrupted.

“Yes,” she agreed, before meeting his gaze directly, “but what’s to stop them doing the opposite, and turning farmland into a desert?”

“They’ve just proven that they can change the world,” Jack said, “and that we can’t stop them.”

Chapter Three

One month later

“I’ve been keeping a watch on her, but so far she’s been staying inside the 4400 Center. She ventures out for walks every day, but as near as I can tell, she hasn’t been doing anything we need to worry about... but she has given my surveillance team the slip a few times.” Tom’s voice filtered over the phone as he filled her in, as he had each week since they had spoken in NTAC Medical about Isabelle Tyler and the plans the people from the future had for her.

One point they had been in full agreement about was that Tom wasn’t going to make any moves against Isabelle, not yet. Not only did they have no idea what they were up against, but it went against the grain for both of them to try to kill her when she hadn’t done anything wrong.

“Have you been able to find out anything about what she can do?” Sam asked. She had guessed that if those who hoped to thwart the 4400 were willing to set Isabelle against thousands of people, all with abilities, then she must have either been equipped with many, very powerful abilities, or have help... perhaps both.

“Afraid not,” Tom responded. “Shawn let us know when she grew up, and when Lily Tyler died, but we haven’t heard anything else. She’s not a 4400, so she’s not under NTAC’s jurisdiction, none of the children born to 4400s are. There have been some rumours, but nothing detailed, and nothing that can be confirmed. We haven’t even been able to work out whether or not she was responsible for her mother’s death. It’s too much of a coincidence that they would both start aging without it being connected, but that doesn’t mean that it was deliberate – and for all we know it might have been Lily’s ability that caused it, not Isabelle’s.”

“Any other casualties?”

“One – Matthew Ross died yesterday; the coroner’s report listed the cause of death as a stroke. It could have had something to do with Isabelle, or it could have been natural. There’s really no way we can tell which, and other 4400s have had abilities that could kill without being easily detected.”

“It’s not much to go on.”

“I know.” Tom sighed impatiently. “I don’t like sitting around waiting for her to make her move, especially when she’s living in the same building as Shawn, and a hundred other 4400s. They’re all starting to develop abilities – if they haven’t already. The Dinsmann-Lenhoff list has been getting much longer.”

“I can imagine.”

“You know,” Tom began in a would-be casual tone, “now that everyone’s off the inhibitor, the people who had abilities before but didn’t say so aren’t going to be able to keep quiet much longer. It was one thing when only a few 4400s were developing abilities, then we needed people to come forward themselves, but now it’s going to be the ones without them that’ll stand out.”

Subtlety might not have been a particular talent of his, but Tom brought up a good point, and one that Sam had considered already. Compulsory registration of 4400 abilities was an even more pressing issue now than it had been before. Tom and his partner had both suspected that she wasn’t being honest about developing an ability but they had not been able to prove anything, however not that the climate had changed, she wasn’t going to be able to get away with concealing her gifts much longer.

“I guess they’ll think of something to say,” Tom concluded innocently, “and only they will ever know the extent of their ability.”

Although he obviously couldn’t see her face, Sam suppressed a smile. She never thought that she would see the day when an NTAC agent would be giving her advice, however indirect, on how to get around the restrictions imposed by his own agency. “That’s true. I’ll be hearing from you again next week?”

“I’ll be in touch.” He promised, bidding her goodbye before hanging up.

A steady stream of data whizzed before her on the computer screen, but Sam scarcely noticed. Instead of looking at the screen, she looked beyond it, into the heart of the machinery that enabled them to use the stargate, finding the problem instinctively and fixing it with a thought, smiling in satisfaction when the dialling computer reinitialised, the glitch that had shut it down repaired.

Had she been solving the problem manually, it would have taken her a couple of hours, at minimum, whereas her ability allowed her to complete the same task in a matter of minutes.

“Thank you, Major.” Walter, well accustomed to witnessing demonstrations of her ability by now, didn’t even bat an eyelid at her less than orthodox method of solving the problem. He nodded his thanks, and got back to work without any further comment.

“That really is remarkable.” Weir observed from behind her, glancing up from the report Jack had handed her to watch.

“That’s nothing!” Jack insisted. “You should have seen it when Carter took out two Goa’uld without breaking a sweat – and that was when she was on the inhibitor.”

“Has it made much of a difference being off the inhibitor?” Weir asked curiously. She knew the basics about promicin and its role in giving the 4400 their abilities – it seemed that most of the country did by now – but she didn’t know the finer details. Doubtless she would have found out all she wanted to know, and more, if she had still been working with the UN. The international fall-out over the Promicin Inhibitor Program was considerable, with representatives from several countries accusing the US authorities of conspiring to deprive their citizens of their rightful abilities, and she was rather relieved that she hadn’t been the one landed with the unenviable task of smoothing it over.

She’d take Goa’uld and Replicators over that, any day.

Sam nodded confirmation. “Definitely. I didn’t think it would be all that different, not when I was already able to use them before, but they’re much easier to control now, and I can do more with them. It even feels different now,” she paused for a moment, considering which word summed up her feelings best, “more... natural, I guess.”

“Have you tried dialling the gate yet?” Jack asked, ignoring Walter’s frown at the suggestion. This was something he’d wanted to see for a long time.

“Sir...” Conscious of the fact that others in the control room were interested in the question, Sam tried to back out, at least until there were fewer people watching, but Jack would listen to no refusals.

“Just try, Carter.” He insisted, grinning when she turned her attention to the stargate, focusing on it as the six chevrons that made up the address of the Alpha Site lit up in rapid succession, then the seventh chevron locked and the wormhole formed. After a few moments, Sam disengaged the wormhole, glancing back at him with a faint smile. “Sweet!”

“Strictly speaking, that was illegal.” Weir observed, an amused smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Seeing the confused expression on Jack’s face, she elaborated. “You can’t order Major Carter to use her ability. No 4400 can be compelled to use their ability by the government or military of their country, under any circumstances.”

“I heard about that.” Sam remarked. The 4400 Center had circulated booklets detailing their rights, together with contact numbers at the Center for anyone whose rights were being breached, but given that they had been drugged – poisoned – without their knowledge, she doubted that the regulations would deter those in authority who would be prepared to coerce somebody to use their ability.

“So you’re telling me that Carter can’t be ordered to use her superpowers, ever?” Jack clarified. “Even if the planet will be destroyed if she doesn’t?” He saw that Sam was ready to protest that she would never refuse in those circumstances, and amended, “Hypothetically, I mean.”

“Technically, she can’t; when the first 4400s began to develop their abilities, there were concerns raised about the potential for military exploitation.” The meetings that had followed the discovery of the first 4400 abilities had been a nightmare. If Weir never had to endure a negotiation like that again, she would be happy. As more than half of the 4400 lived in the US, with another thirty per cent or so in European Union countries, there had been suspicions that the governments of those countries would take advantage. “Protecting 4400s from being forced to use their abilities by the governments and militaries of their countries was agreed on to prevent that.”

“Whose bright idea was that?”

“Mine – the alternative suggestion was to ban all 4400s from working in the public service or military.” Weir said.

“That would be bad.” Jack acknowledged.

Weir just nodded, before turning to Sam. “May I speak with you a moment, Major?” The two of them moved out of earshot, and she kept her voice low. “Has anyone contacted you about registering under the Dinsmann-Lenhoff Bill?” When Sam nodded confirmation, Weir hesitated a few moments, as though trying to decide how much she ought to say. “There haven’t been too many 4400s with multiple abilities, have there?”

“So far, it seems to be one per person.” Sam wasn’t sure why she would have had two abilities; although Janet had a few theories, she had no way of proving or disproving any of them.

“You know, the idea of your control over technology might cause some concern,” Weir said, keeping her tone light and non-committal, although she knew that both she and Sam knew that this was an understatement. “Telekinesis could be easier for them to accept.”

Sam smiled in response. “That’s why I registered it.”

Seattle

Dennis Ryland was aware of the fact that he was fortunate that he had faced no stiffer penalty than the loss of his position at NTAC – and given that he had exchanged it for a private sector job with a significantly higher salary and a better benefits package, it wasn’t much of a penalty in the first place.

He already owned shares in the Haspel Corporation, so when they had offered him the position, he had accepted, knowing that the company’s military contracts would make it much easier for him to keep his ear to the ground.

The 4400, especially the terrorists in the Nova Group, weren’t going to be resting on their laurels, and Ryland didn’t intend to either. He meant every word he had said in the hearing, and when the time came when humanity had to defend themselves against the 4400, he was going to be ready.

The buzzer on his desk sounded, and he picked up the phone, listening as his secretary told him who was waiting to see him. “I see.” Of all the things he could have anticipated, this was not one of them. “You can send her in.”

Isabelle Tyler, a sheet of paper rolled up in one hand, entered his office as though she owned it, her expression calm and confident as she strode up to stand in front of his desk, looking down at him.

“Miss Tyler.” He greeted her coolly. “What can I do for you?”

She set the page down on the desk, unrolling it to reveal a detailed drawing of a circle, decorated with a set of symbols he didn’t recognize. “I need to find a stargate.”

Chapter Four

Seattle

The lab was a small, spartan one compared with most of the others at the Haspel Corporation’s disposal but each of the scientists and technicians at work had been handpicked, for their trust-worthiness as much as for their knowledge and skill and their project was probably the most important one in progress – and not just for the company, for the whole world.

Swiping his access card, Ryland waited for the automated doors to slid open before striding into the room, glancing around at the activity in progress to check on their status. “How are we doing?”

“We’re good,” one of the technicians reported, before amending his statement. “Great, actually. We have enough of a stockpile to last us for almost two years.”

“Already?” At best, Ryland had hoped for a tenth of that. His gaze strayed to the young woman seated in the chair on the far side of the small room. She didn’t acknowledge his entrance, but he had no doubt that despite the serene expression on her face, she was alert to their slightest movement – and if they crossed her in any way, they wouldn’t live to regret it. Despite his best efforts to remain impassive, he couldn’t keep from shuddering slightly; by all accounts, this girl was far more powerful than any of the 4400, and she exercised those powers as naturally as she breathed. Even she did not yet know the limits of her abilities – or if she even had any.

He was very glad that they were working towards the same goal. He would have hated to have Isabelle Tyler as an enemy.

She glanced up, as though finally condescending to notice him. “Dennis.” Her tone seemed friendly enough, but her eyes were cold. She raised an eyebrow. “Well?”

“I’ve looked into what you told me,” he began, “and while I was able to track down your ‘stargate’,” no easy task, even for a man with his impressive list of contacts, both military and civilian, “I’m afraid that getting access to it is going to be impossible, even for you. It’s in Colorado, under heavy guard...”

“...at the Cheyenne Mountain base, under NORAD.” Isabelle finished, sounding bored. “I know that already – they have a 4400 working there.”

“They what?!” Ryland was appalled; during the period immediately following the release of the 4400, before he knew what Orson Bailey and Oliver Knox had been capable of, he had counselled the 4400 leaving Quarantine to keep their abilities a secret, in the hope that it would help them shield themselves from discrimination, and he had privately applauded those employers who had been willing to allow their former employees to resume their jobs after their long absences, but allowing a 4400 access to a device as powerful as the stargate appeared to me was nothing short of insanity.

Isabelle wasn’t interested in his outrage. She was focused on just one thing. “What about the other one? The one they found at Antarctica? Can you get me access to that?”

“You know about that?”

“Of course.” Her tone was dismissive, as though this was a stupid question for him to have even considered asking her.

He had no idea where she had managed to get her intel, and he suppressed his disappointment at not being able to hold back that particular tit-bit a little longer, in the hopes of retaining her services as long as possible.

If the small smile on Isabelle’s face was any indication, she could sense his feelings and found his frustration highly amusing. “Don’t try to keep things from me, Dennis. I don’t like it. I’m keeping up my part of the deal, so you need to keep up yours.”

“I will.” He promised hastily. “There are some strings I can pull, I can get you access.”

“You’d better.” Her tone was matter of fact as she turned away from him, watching as blood was drained from her arm, filtered through a machine and fed back into her other arm. The yellow fluid extracted from her blood was separated into test tubes, sealed and carried away to the refrigeration unit, joining the thousands of other doses of promicin already stored there.

SGC

The centrifuge made a whirring sound as it spun, so fast that its movements were almost a blur, the speed causing the blood in the vials to separate. Once the red blood cells had been extracted, the spinning resumed.

“There’s got to be an easier way to do that.” Sam remarked, knowing that the samples of blood Janet had extracted would only yield a small amount of promicin, despite the process taking so long.

“There is – but you wouldn’t like it.” Janet answered, conscious of the fact that if other doctors knew that she had access to promicin samples, along with official permission to run her tests, they would be green with envy. She wasn’t about to filter her friend’s blood just to satisfy her own curiousity. “Thanks for letting me take this sample – I think that just about every doctor in the country is dying to get their hands on it.”

She wasn’t exaggerating, Sam knew. Despite the fact that laws had been passed outlawing unauthorized experimentation with promicin, the idea of a fifth neurotransmitter, one that bestowed superhuman abilities, fascinated people, particularly scientists, who were willing to take the risk of breaking the law if it meant that they could be the one to unlock promicin’s secrets. She knew of several 4400s who had been offered considerable sums of money in exchange for their cooperation, and now that word was out that every 4400 would develop an ability in the very near future, if they didn’t already have one, the companies who had been vying to sign them up before had redoubled their efforts and were competing to offer more money and more tempting benefits packages.

Angry grumbling, audible even from the corridor, over the noise of the centrifuge, heralded the arrival of Rodney McKay, who stalked into the infirmary, his expression set and angry, his right hand cradled in his left, walking over to one of the beds and sitting down on the edge. Even from a distance, Sam could see that the skin of his hand was bright pink.

“What happened?” Janet asked, gently turning his hand over to inspect the damage.

“Jay!” He all but spat the name. “I just started talking to him about a mistake he had made with one of his projects and he knocked a pot of coffee over me – the man’s a menace!”

“Maybe you should consider not yelling at him around hot liquids.” Sam suggested, well able to guess what the ‘talking’ had consisted of and to picture Felger’s startled reaction.

McKay merely scowled at her before returning his attention to Janet. “How bad is it?”

“You’ll be fine,” she assured him, taking a cooling pack out of the refrigerator and setting it on his arm. “That should reduce the redness, and I’ll give you some cream.”

“What about pain relief?” He asked anxiously.

Janet managed to refrain from rolling her eyes. “If it’s really bothering you, take some aspirin.” She recommended. “You won’t need anything stronger.”

“Fine.” He was less than pleased with her response, but the centrifuge timer beeped and the spinning slowed to a stop, attracting his attention. He watched, fascinated, as Janet used a needle and syringe to extract the fluorescent yellow liquid, hopping up from the bed to watch the process. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Promicin.” Janet confirmed. “Sam was nice enough to give me a sample to run some tests on.”

“Wow.” His expression was awed as he looked at the syringe. “And it’s pure?”

“Yes.”

“Wow.” He repeated, glancing across at Sam. “It looks so... normal.” He said, sounding almost disappointed. “Considering that’s the stuff that gives you guys your superpowers, I figured it’d look more impressive.”

“Sorry to disappoint.” Sam quipped, but he wasn’t listening.

“What would happen – hypothetically speaking, obviously,” he added hastily, “if a normal person – a non-4400, took that shot? I mean, if it can give 4400s power, would it be possible, if someone was willing to volunteer, for it to give them...”

“No.” Janet said firmly, inwardly resolving to keep the sample under lock and key and to destroy it when she had finished her tests.

“But in theory, would it...”

“You’re never going to find out, McKay.” Sam told him, rolling her eyes and inwardly kicking herself for not anticipating this when she had offered to donate a sample of promicin for Janet’s research. Now that the biological cause of the 4400s’ abilities had been identified, of course people were going to be curious about whether or not those abilities could be replicated for the rest of the population. The prospect of superhuman abilities would be a very tempting one for a lot of people.

“Oh, come on!” His voice took on a distinctly whining note. “It’s not like you’re going to miss it – you produce the stuff!”

“NO!” Both women chorused.

McKay scowled. “You’re mean!”

“Master Bra’tac has had reports from spies in the ranks of several of the System Lords,” Teal’c reported. “The Replicators have been continuing with their attacks on Goa’uld strongholds. Thus far, they have been restricting themselves to minor Goa’uld.”

“So is that a good thing or a bad thing?” Weir asked, looking from one team member to the other.

None of them said anything for a while, and then Jack finally answered on all their behalves. “A bit of both, really; nobody here is going to cry if Replicarter and her little bug friends take out a few Goa’uld for us, the fewer of those we have to deal with, the better, but if they’re leaving the System Lords untouched, that will work to their advantage, and possibly against us.”

“Once the minnows are taken out of the equation, the sharks will be able to divide up the spoils amongst themselves?” Weir suggested.

“Precisely.” Teal’c confirmed. “I fear that with the resources and armies of the minor Goa’uld at their disposal, the System Lords will become more and more powerful.”

“He’s right.” Sam said. “If we’re lucky, they’ll fight among themselves over the spoils, and be weakened by the fight, or the Replicators will decide to take on the more powerful Goa’uld.”

“I see.” Weir regarded the other woman for a few moments before asking, “I don’t suppose you have any insight into what your double’s next move might be? Is she more likely to challenge the System Lords directly, or to keep picking off the weakest of the bunch? Or is there a chance that she might get bored of Goa’uld and target Earth instead?”

“I don’t know.” Sam said reluctantly. Although she had never been comfortable with the idea that an entity who was essentially based on her was threatening humanity, and the galaxy as a whole, she had become somewhat reconciled to the idea, especially after ‘Maia’ had filled her in on the part she was expected to play in their plan, and since she had seen the consequences of failure, but even when she tried to put herself in her counterpart’s shoes, and to anticipate her moves, she couldn’t predict what she would do.

It was something of a comfort to know that, despite outward appearances, they really weren’t all that alike in terms of personality, but that wasn’t much use when it came to predicting what the Replicators’ strategy would be.

“They’re not going to want to leave the galaxy, even if they do take out the Goa’uld.” Jack observed shrewdly.

“O’Neill is correct. The Goa’uld are scavengers of technology. They have been assimilating the technology of other races for thousands of years. The Replicators will want to consume that technology.”

“So even if the System Lords are defeated, we’ll still have to deal with the Replicators.” Weir sighed slightly. “Is it ever quiet and peaceful around here?”

“Never.” Teal’c stated flatly.

Weir smiled slightly. “I figured as much.” She rose, indicating that they could leave. “I’ll make my report to the oversight committee.”

As the team exited the briefing room, she saw Jack catch Sam by the arm, shaking his head reprovingly. “No running off to your lab, Carter, not until after lunch.” Turning a deaf ear to her protests, he hustled her out of the room, presumably in the direction of the commissary, with Teal’c and Daniel following, their amusement clear.

Weir’s expression was sombre as she watched them go.

Seattle

It wasn’t pure promicin. Kevin would have given just about anything to be able to get his hands on that, but he couldn’t obtain samples without attracting unwanted attention to what he was doing, and Tess, the only one of the 4400 he could have been certain wouldn’t either betray him or reveal his plans to another, was still a patient at Abendson Psychiatric Hospital, though it was hoped that they would be able to release her soon.

The serum he was using was a modified version of the promicin serum he had created to counteract the effects of the inhibitor, but so far, it seemed to be quite effective. He had been tracking the changes in his notes, and the initial results were promising.

He flexed his fist, observing the lesions on his hand with calm detachment as he tied at length of rubber tubing around his upper arm, tapping the vein inside his elbow before lifting up a syringe of the serum.

He didn’t flinch as he injected the yellow liquid into his vein.