Chapter 47
O’Neill Farmhouse, Blaine County, MT
December 4, 2010
Cassie emerged from their eclectic rental with Boomer on a leash and headed through the snow for the farmhouse’s wraparound veranda. Barking dogs from within the house greeted the warmly dressed Hanka refugee, her husband, and his cameraman and soundman. Shortly after knocking on the door, the wooden panel was opened by Josh releasing a rush of warmth onto them.
“Hi Cassie, hi Dominic!” Josh enthusiastically greeted the two people he knew as he held their two dogs back from swamping the four people and their canine.
“Hi Joshua,” both Klerks returned the greeting and Cassie reached down to unsnap Boomer’s leash. The older Shiba Inu seemed resigned to the energetic antics of the young mutts as Josh let go of their collars and they proceeded to do their best to entice Boomer to play.
“Dad is waiting for you,” Josh waved them into the entranceway. “Matt!” Josh called into the house. “Come get Dominic will you? I’m supposed to take Cassie to Mom.”
Matt appeared before them and eyed the equipment Dominic and his two companions were carrying with interest. “Are you going to be in the living room again?”
Dominic nodded yes and then followed the younger boy as he led them into the house and pointed out the direction of the bathroom and kitchen to his cameraman and soundman on their way to the living room.
“Come on,” Josh said to Cassie as he donned his winter gear and slipped into his winter boots, “we can take the dogs with us and I’ll watch Boomer while you’re with Mom.”
Cassie nodded her assent and followed Josh out of the entranceway, back down the porch’s front steps, and across the yard to the mounded earth heaped over the root cellar. Snow crunched under foot but the morning was warm enough that their breaths did not release white puffs into the air. Leaving the three dogs outside the two humans entered the buried structure and headed for the east wall.
On one of the concrete slabs, after stripping of his mitt, Josh pressed his hand against the rough surface and waited until the spot grew warm. Once it warmed to his touch and still keeping his hand flat, he tapped his fingertips in a pattern and soundlessly a concrete slab further down seem to dissolve away, revealing a well-lit staircase descending into darkness.
Josh waved at the staircase, “Head on down. Mom’s waiting for you.”
A little wide-eyed at being so unceremoniously shown to the rumoured O’Neill secret base Cassie descended the steps. After descending the spiralling staircase of forty-eight steps, she emerged into a well-lit and warmly heated rectangular-shaped room stocked with various terminals and other alien looking things.
There was a quiet hum in the air from so many different electronics interspersed with infant giggling. The source of that happy sound was easy to locate as Hope squirmed underneath her mother’s tickling fingers.
Sam looked up with a welcoming smile and took a moment to wave Cassie over to join them before tickling her daughter for a few more giggles. Cassie crossed the space between them, fascinated as she had been last week during their visit to see the woman she had bonded with so tightly thirteen years ago during her rescue from Hanka freely show an aspect of her personality that Major Carter had rarely let out—Mother Sam.
“Hi Cassie,” Sam greeted as she turned most of her attention to the redheaded woman after Hope had become content with a toy. “Thank you for coming.”
“Getting to see this,” Cassie took a seat and waved her hand about to encompass her surroundings, “makes it worth it. Do you know how much the conspiracy nuts would pay to know this does exists?”
Sam chuckled in her chest and looked amused. The only thing that saved their home from being as frequently watched spot for aliens and other military conspiracy nuts like Area 51 was the simple fact that so far no one had dared to test what security measures might be in place. If she could create the dead zones, or so called Aschen tech killers, many were leering of finding out what else she could cook up. They did not realise though, that it was not her devices they had to worry about, but the devices that Jack had her create and implement.
He after all had far too much experience and training in the art of paranoia.
“So,” Cassie began to inquire as she shrugged of her winter jacked and placed it onto the back of her chair, “what do you want to talk to me about?”
“An SGC mission in 1998,” Sam replied as she reached out and pressed a few keys, activating a holographic projector in the center of the circular table terminal they sat at. Displayed was the entry screen for the Stargate Program Archive and Cassie wondered what about the online archive—the official AF documents relating to the program and its areas—had to do with what Sam wanted to talk about.
“Which mission?”
“Mission File 24398,” Sam responded as she gestured to the console in front of Cassie.
Cassie looked quizzically at Sam before typing ‘Mission File 24398’ into the search box and pressed enter. Within seconds the mission report appeared in the holographic display.
Cassie, after another look at Sam, settled into read the mission report about the assignment of SG-1 to P2X-555 for reconnaissance but the actually mission to the planet had been done by SG-5. Her brow slightly furrowed with a puzzled frown as she looked questioningly at Sam once again.
“What is the issue?”
“What does it say about SG-1?”
“That SG-1 departed for P2X-555 and…” Cassie trailed off as she really read what she had overlooked the first time. SG-1 had not just been pulled and SG-5 resigned for some reason but SG-1 had entered the established wormhole to P2X-555 and not arrived. Re-reading she caught reference at the bottom to a cross note with file 30185 and a time stamp for SG-1’s return days later. She clicked on the cross note and a new window popped up prompting for a name and access code.
Cassie looked questioningly at Sam, “I how that even though Kinsey wanted to disclose all the mission reports whole cloth onto the archive but that some—like the report for my rescue and implied fostering off-world—were modified. But I do not ever remember there being, or hearing about, files that required security clearance.”
“As much as Kinsey would have liked to have everything released—and succeeded for all files of SG-1,” Sam frowned every time she thought about it because it had not just been mission report, but things like psych evaluations released, “he was only able to have that done for inactive and complete missions and projects like research colonies. Ongoing missions are still classified.”
“It’s been twelve years, how could this mission be ongoing?” Cassie asked incredulously as she waved a hand at the holographic screen.
Patiently Sam smiled at Cassie and suggested, “Why don’t you enter your name and SSN.”
Cassie blinked at the suggestion but something in Sam’s blue eyes had her turning to the keyboard and after a moment’s hesitation entered her given name and adopted surname, Cassandra Fraiser, and her nine-digit social security number. She turned to look warily at Sam when both entries were accepted and as File 30185 loaded cautiously asked, “Sam, why did it accept my name and SSN?”
“Because Cassie, you are the one that will write the conclusion of this mission report.”