oh, as usual, dear
Damn plot-bunny wouldn't die. But I may have fed it enough to keep it quiet for a little bit. I don't think this'll turn into anything else, because I don't actually have a plot. Except for NID-related stuff, and so forth. You know the drill.
He was where they'd been told he would be, leaning against the splintered wood of the old bridge over the harbor entrance, looking at the small flotilla of sailboats at anchor in the protected channel. O'Neill and Daniel dropped behind her to wait at the end of the bridge, and Sam walked out alone, heels tapping on the wooden planks.
He was about as tall as O'Neill, she realized as she came closer, but built more heavily, wearing jeans and a faded blue short-sleeved shirt. As she approached, he didn't turn his head, but kept looking at the boats, eyes hidden behind sunglasses.
She stopped about three feet away, not pressing him, and leaned with her back against the railing, facing the other way. From here she could see the breakwater on the harbor, and a fishing boat heading west into the Gulf. It was cold and grey in Colorado right now; it felt good to stand in the sun, and she resisted the urge to close her eyes.
"Major Carter, I presume?"
Sam glanced to her left: he wasn't looking at her.
"Yes."
"No uniform?" There was an edge to his voice. He'd spotted the Colonel and Daniel, she was sure of it.
She shrugged. "We'd like to keep this meeting as quiet as possible, Commander Crichton. I *do* have ID, if you want to see it."
"Yeah, I would." Giving nothing away. He still hadn't looked at her.
She fished out her identification in silence and slid it along the railing toward him. He picked it up, looked at it, gave it back. "Okay," he said. "What do you want? Why couldn't we have this meeting at the Cape?"
She gave a small flick of her fingers, out of his sight, signaling the Colonel that the target had been acquired. "Because the Cape isn't secure. And we *really* don't have a good excuse to get in there, or at least no better excuse than a hundred other agencies."
"Secure from what?" He sounded, finally, a little interested.
"That's what we need to talk to you about." She nodded towards the end of the bridge, where O'Neill was lounging unconvincingly on a park bench. Daniel was tossing bread to a couple of ducks in the water. "Can we take a walk? Maybe get some coffee?"
Crichton stared at her, finally, for a long minute, face hard, then nodded. "Okay, we can do that. I missed coffee."
They walked in silence for several minutes, up the road from the harbor, over the rise, and down into the small business district. O'Neill and Daniel followed at a safe distance. Teal'c was in the van, keeping tabs on the radio frequencies. They'd bring him out if they needed to, but it seemed unlikely that this man, of all people, needed to be convinced of the existence of aliens.
At the end of the block was a coffee shop with several tables outside. The van was around the corner, but he didn't need to know that. He took the inside chair, the one with the best view down the street. Sam left him there and went inside for coffee.
When she came out, Daniel was just pulling a chair up to the table. O'Neill hovered in the doorway.
"I don't think we've been introduced," said Daniel, flashing that first-contact smile. "I'm Doctor Daniel Jackson. You've met Sam. And that's Colonel Jack O'Neill over there. You'll have to forgive him, he's grumpy without his coffee and it's really early for us."
"John Crichton," he replied, but didn't offer to shake Daniel's hand. "But you knew that. Now, you people gonna tell me what you *want*?"
Daniel looked at Sam; Sam looked at O'Neill. O'Neill rolled his eyes and sat down at the table. Sam slid her coffee cup over to him, and he took it with a nod. "Thanks, Carter."
"Teacher's pet," muttered Daniel, and Sam resisted the urge to kick him.
"Here's the deal, Commander," said O'Neill. "This whole thing is completely under wraps because until ten minutes ago we weren't entirely sure you were who you said you were. But we couldn't just come out and ask because any reasons we would have for questioning you are beyond top secret."
"And what happened ten minutes ago?" Crichton asked. He hadn't touched his coffee; Sam wondered if it was because she'd handled it.
"I met you. Now we know you're not a Goa'uld." She smiled brightly.
"Of course," interjected Daniel, "that doesn't mean you couldn't be under *other* alien influences--"
O'Neill raised a hand. Daniel stopped talking. Sam really needed to learn how to do that.
Crichton shook his head. "Goold? What are you guys *on*?"
"Carter?" Jack raised an eyebrow.
She nodded. "Commander, bear with us a few more minutes, please. Just -- let me ask you some questions. First, when you were out there --" she waved vaguely skyward, "where were you? Did you bring back star charts? How far from Earth did you get?"
To her surprise, Crichton laughed, the first indication of a sense of humor he'd shown. He pulled his sunglasses off and dropped them on the table, revealing a blunt and open face with bright blue eyes. "Well, that's the problem, right there. I went through a wormhole, and wherever I ended up, it wasn't anywhere I could identify. For all I know, it wasn't even in this galaxy. Although I *think* it probably is, from something Sco-- someone said to me."
Sam blinked. "A wormhole?" None of the scanty information they'd received had included anything about a wormhole. She was going to have some words with Agent Barrett.
"Yeah, big blue swirly thing, sucks you down like a toilet. Turns Prowler pilots into goo." He smiled briefly. "Hard to forget."
"Colonel--" Sam appealed. They *had* to come clean to this man, or they'd never get to the bottom of this.
O'Neill finished his coffee and pushed back from the table. "Hold that thought; I'm gonna make a call." He walked a few dozen yards away and stopped under a tree. Sam didn't try very hard not to eavesdrop, but all she caught was "Jacob--" before O'Neill turned away.
He came back after no more than two minutes, snapping the cell phone shut and dropping it into his pocket as he sat down again. "Carter's dad vouches for you and your dad, Crichton. I'm relying on that. If you shaft us--"
"It's in his interest to keep it quiet too, Jack," pointed out Daniel. "The NID has got to have informants all over IASA by now."
"So?" Crichton leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "You gonna tell me what all this cloak and dagger voodoo is about?"
Sam smiled. She was out of uniform, sitting in the Florida sun, and she got to tell someone about her job. She'd had worse days. "All this cloak and dagger stuff is about the fact that you're *not* the first human being to walk on another planet, Commander Crichton."
He was where they'd been told he would be, leaning against the splintered wood of the old bridge over the harbor entrance, looking at the small flotilla of sailboats at anchor in the protected channel. O'Neill and Daniel dropped behind her to wait at the end of the bridge, and Sam walked out alone, heels tapping on the wooden planks.
He was about as tall as O'Neill, she realized as she came closer, but built more heavily, wearing jeans and a faded blue short-sleeved shirt. As she approached, he didn't turn his head, but kept looking at the boats, eyes hidden behind sunglasses.
She stopped about three feet away, not pressing him, and leaned with her back against the railing, facing the other way. From here she could see the breakwater on the harbor, and a fishing boat heading west into the Gulf. It was cold and grey in Colorado right now; it felt good to stand in the sun, and she resisted the urge to close her eyes.
"Major Carter, I presume?"
Sam glanced to her left: he wasn't looking at her.
"Yes."
"No uniform?" There was an edge to his voice. He'd spotted the Colonel and Daniel, she was sure of it.
She shrugged. "We'd like to keep this meeting as quiet as possible, Commander Crichton. I *do* have ID, if you want to see it."
"Yeah, I would." Giving nothing away. He still hadn't looked at her.
She fished out her identification in silence and slid it along the railing toward him. He picked it up, looked at it, gave it back. "Okay," he said. "What do you want? Why couldn't we have this meeting at the Cape?"
She gave a small flick of her fingers, out of his sight, signaling the Colonel that the target had been acquired. "Because the Cape isn't secure. And we *really* don't have a good excuse to get in there, or at least no better excuse than a hundred other agencies."
"Secure from what?" He sounded, finally, a little interested.
"That's what we need to talk to you about." She nodded towards the end of the bridge, where O'Neill was lounging unconvincingly on a park bench. Daniel was tossing bread to a couple of ducks in the water. "Can we take a walk? Maybe get some coffee?"
Crichton stared at her, finally, for a long minute, face hard, then nodded. "Okay, we can do that. I missed coffee."
They walked in silence for several minutes, up the road from the harbor, over the rise, and down into the small business district. O'Neill and Daniel followed at a safe distance. Teal'c was in the van, keeping tabs on the radio frequencies. They'd bring him out if they needed to, but it seemed unlikely that this man, of all people, needed to be convinced of the existence of aliens.
At the end of the block was a coffee shop with several tables outside. The van was around the corner, but he didn't need to know that. He took the inside chair, the one with the best view down the street. Sam left him there and went inside for coffee.
When she came out, Daniel was just pulling a chair up to the table. O'Neill hovered in the doorway.
"I don't think we've been introduced," said Daniel, flashing that first-contact smile. "I'm Doctor Daniel Jackson. You've met Sam. And that's Colonel Jack O'Neill over there. You'll have to forgive him, he's grumpy without his coffee and it's really early for us."
"John Crichton," he replied, but didn't offer to shake Daniel's hand. "But you knew that. Now, you people gonna tell me what you *want*?"
Daniel looked at Sam; Sam looked at O'Neill. O'Neill rolled his eyes and sat down at the table. Sam slid her coffee cup over to him, and he took it with a nod. "Thanks, Carter."
"Teacher's pet," muttered Daniel, and Sam resisted the urge to kick him.
"Here's the deal, Commander," said O'Neill. "This whole thing is completely under wraps because until ten minutes ago we weren't entirely sure you were who you said you were. But we couldn't just come out and ask because any reasons we would have for questioning you are beyond top secret."
"And what happened ten minutes ago?" Crichton asked. He hadn't touched his coffee; Sam wondered if it was because she'd handled it.
"I met you. Now we know you're not a Goa'uld." She smiled brightly.
"Of course," interjected Daniel, "that doesn't mean you couldn't be under *other* alien influences--"
O'Neill raised a hand. Daniel stopped talking. Sam really needed to learn how to do that.
Crichton shook his head. "Goold? What are you guys *on*?"
"Carter?" Jack raised an eyebrow.
She nodded. "Commander, bear with us a few more minutes, please. Just -- let me ask you some questions. First, when you were out there --" she waved vaguely skyward, "where were you? Did you bring back star charts? How far from Earth did you get?"
To her surprise, Crichton laughed, the first indication of a sense of humor he'd shown. He pulled his sunglasses off and dropped them on the table, revealing a blunt and open face with bright blue eyes. "Well, that's the problem, right there. I went through a wormhole, and wherever I ended up, it wasn't anywhere I could identify. For all I know, it wasn't even in this galaxy. Although I *think* it probably is, from something Sco-- someone said to me."
Sam blinked. "A wormhole?" None of the scanty information they'd received had included anything about a wormhole. She was going to have some words with Agent Barrett.
"Yeah, big blue swirly thing, sucks you down like a toilet. Turns Prowler pilots into goo." He smiled briefly. "Hard to forget."
"Colonel--" Sam appealed. They *had* to come clean to this man, or they'd never get to the bottom of this.
O'Neill finished his coffee and pushed back from the table. "Hold that thought; I'm gonna make a call." He walked a few dozen yards away and stopped under a tree. Sam didn't try very hard not to eavesdrop, but all she caught was "Jacob--" before O'Neill turned away.
He came back after no more than two minutes, snapping the cell phone shut and dropping it into his pocket as he sat down again. "Carter's dad vouches for you and your dad, Crichton. I'm relying on that. If you shaft us--"
"It's in his interest to keep it quiet too, Jack," pointed out Daniel. "The NID has got to have informants all over IASA by now."
"So?" Crichton leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms. "You gonna tell me what all this cloak and dagger voodoo is about?"
Sam smiled. She was out of uniform, sitting in the Florida sun, and she got to tell someone about her job. She'd had worse days. "All this cloak and dagger stuff is about the fact that you're *not* the first human being to walk on another planet, Commander Crichton."