Fic: Bring us back home (1/1)
Title: Bring us back home
Fandom: Stargate Atlantis
Characters: Samantha Carter, Steven Caldwell
Prompt: 127. Caldwell-Carter-centric (Gen or ship). Earth destroyed. Here they are, the two highest-ranking officers remaining, now what? Written for apocalypse_kree 2012.
Word Count: 4446
Rating: T
Spoilers: None.
Disclaimer: I do not own the Stargate characters or the universe. It belongs to MGM and the Sci-Fi channel.
Summary: She doesn't smile anymore. None of them do. Implied Carter/Caldwell. Implied Sheppard/Carter. SGA. Post-season 5.
Went to find you in the backyard Hiding behind our busy lives Dreamer of a lighthouse in the woods To help us get back into the world From “Lighthouse” by Patrick Watson BRING US BACK HOME Space is silent. Sam has felt the truth of that the hard way. When she floated above the supergate in an EVA suit, watching and unable to do anything when the Ori ships came through, she thought she was going to die. In those few minutes before the Odyssey showed up, she had plenty of time to envision how those ships would eventually hover above Earth, silent and deadly. As it turned out, it wasn’t the Ori who destroyed Earth. “Hammond, this is Daedalus. Are you picking up anything?” Caldwell’s voice echoes over the bridge’s speakers. He sounds cool and collected like always. So far from what Sam feels. Those working on the science station behind the captain’s chair shake their heads. Sam tries not to focus on the tension in their features, or the unshed tears in their eyes. Instead, she stares straight ahead at the dark, stormy planet in the bridge’s windows and hits the reply button on her armrest. “Negative, Daedalus. Do you want us to take another run?” Caldwell’s response is a tad slower than usual, almost hesitant, but it is enough to suggest to her that perhaps the man behind the mask isn’t as calm as he seems. Perhaps seeing Earth in person makes it impossible to deny the truth. Their home is gone. “No,” Caldwell says. “We don’t have time. The alien ships are on their way here. They’ve probably detected us. We’ll meet you back at the rendezvous.” “Copy that. George Hammond out.” With Daedalus equipped with a ZPM, Sam knows their sensor range is better. She gives a short nod to the helmsman. “Take us out, Major.” As the ship swivels around, Sam sees the once blue planet disappear from the windows, and she knows this will be the last time she’s here. Tomorrow, they might be dead. Everyone else is.
*** The aliens came while they were sleeping. In the euphoria of having defeated the Wraith superhive outside Earth, followed by a long but victorious battle against the Lucian Alliance, Homeworld Command believed they could finally have peace. Plans were made to have the stargate programme go public, to find a way to cooperate internationally, to expand to other planets. But the plans never had the chance to come to fruition. First, they lost contact with the Destiny’s crew. Then, planets on the outer rim of the galaxy went quiet. The Odyssey was sent on recon and never returned. Only when the stargate network collapsed and each stargate exploded did everyone wake up. In a single surgical attack, the Milky Way galaxy was crippled. Cheyenne Mountain and most of Colorado was gone in the blink of an eye. Atlantis only survived because it had been sent to Pegasus months earlier. Many of Earth’s finest were lost in those first few days. Before Earth managed to mount a proper defence, a single alien ship showed up. Black, massive and alien. Easily four times as large as the Wraith superhive and seemingly invincible. In the end, it took the sacrifice of the Apollo to take it down. By then, they had already lost so much. Millions, maybe billions of lives. Complete and utter destruction. No hostages taken. There were few options. Immediately, the remaining ships were recalled from their missions to begin shuttling people off-world to the Alpha, Beta and Gamma sites. VIPs were prioritised, civilians and military. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t proper, but it was their future. They ran trips non-stop for a week, then Daedalus reported that eight aliens ships were on the way to Earth. They couldn’t win. The surviving members of Homeworld Command ordered a full retreat. No fighting. With Odyssey and Apollo gone, they had only three ships left. This was about survival. They ran, but they had to look back. Their life was ending.
*** “Any word from the Beta site?” She is almost hesitant to ask. The Beta site is the new base of Homeworld Command. With never-ending news of death and destruction coming in from every corner of the galaxy, hope grows fainter by each silent hour. No news is bad news. Caldwell’s face is pale in the conference room’s monitor. He’s seated in a similar room on board Daedalus. This is the only time when they may talk in private. They can’t take the chance on a face-to-face. Something might happen while they’re off their ships. It’s a constant run. “We’re still waiting.” Caldwell’s face is tense, but solemn. He looks strong. Sam feels edgy, weak, but forces herself to sit straight. “Sun Tzu should’ve arrived there three hours ago.” With the aliens able to intercept and decrypt subspace messages, long-range communications have been reduced to meet-and-greets such as theirs, so it could be hours or a day before they know more. They just have to wait. She hates it. The inaction is making her restless. Sam can see Daedalus in the conference room’s windows. It looks as battered and beaten as the Hammond, but as the late General O’Neill would’ve said, at least they’re still flying. They could still make a difference. “The Jaffa are planning a counter-offensive,” Sam says, breaking the silence. “They’ve asked if we wish to join.” Caldwell meets her eyes head-on. “How’s your ammo?” “We still have the Asgard plasma beam weapons, but we’re down to about 50 % capacity on the railguns and missiles.” Sam holds back a sigh and rubs her eyes tiredly. “You?” “About the same.” On the monitor, Caldwell taps his fingers on the table and stares into the air. He looks conflicted, but only for a second. “We should take the fight to them. There’s been enough running.” Sam doesn’t reply right away. She stares out through the windows, running every possible scenario through her head. It’s not good. Nine times out of ten, she foresees a disaster. But they’re already down. Earth is gone and the Beta site could be too. They can’t get any further, can they? “Okay. Let’s suggest it to the higher ups,” Sam says. Caldwell gives an approving nod. It doesn’t comfort her. It doesn’t convince her that this is the best course of action. At the end of the day, half of her wants to fight and the other half wants to cut their losses and retreat to Pegasus and Atlantis. Today, the first half wins out when the Sun Tzu returns to tell them that the Beta site is gone. The top of their hierarchy now ends with the two of them. Sam has never felt so lost in her life. So she follows Caldwell’s lead. Wherever it may go.
*** Sparks from overhead exposed wires make Caldwell flinch. The bridge is dark save for the emergency lighting. All around him, his crew is doing damage control. A couple of consoles have already blown out. Debris litters the floor. Everyone look beat up, including himself. “Daedalus, this is Hammond. How bad is it?” Carter’s voice finally gets through the previously static speakers. Caldwell gives the communications officer a short nod of approval and then moves over to the captain’s chair to respond. “We’re still here,” Caldwell says while looking around. Although his crew looks bruised and injured, they look even more determined than before. Some even smirk and give him a salute. That’s the effect of a victory, however small. “You?” Outside the bridge windows, Caldwell can see the Hammond navigate through the debris field surrounding them. Chunks of what was once Ha’taks and enemy ships drift around amongst the four or five Allied ships still in one piece. He tries not to think about the dozens of Jaffa ships that didn’t make it. Today’s a victory. “We’re not going into hyperspace any time soon, but we’re alright,” Carter says. Her face eventually shows up on one of the monitors, tired and grimy, but alive. There’s a stony quality to her expression, however, when she adds, “Lost four 302s, though. Good men.” Caldwell closes his eyes for a brief second. He only lost one out of the seven fighters he had left, but he knows how Carter feels. He opens his eyes again and hardens his voice. “They’ll be honoured.” He believes in those words. Truly and fully. Until the end of time. “Yeah…” Carter looks thoughtful. “At least we’ve dealt the aliens a blow. Today.” She puts on a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. The action feels like a wake-up call. Against the loss of entire worlds, of half the galaxy’s population, their destruction of eight alien ships is nothing but a pinprick. That’s the harsh truth of it. Caldwell knows it, but he can’t acknowledge it. Thoughts like that are killer to morale. But in front of all these people, he can’t tell her that. So he lets the moment pass and makes plans for their next move. She nods and concedes to everything, and he wonders where the famous Colonel Samantha Carter with the backbone has gone. There’s a shell where she used to be. Later, he realises that she’s just surviving. They all are. One day at the time. So he leaves the matter for another day. Always another day.
*** The sound of klaxons jerks her out of a fitful sleep. Sam stumbles out of bed, feet caught in the covers, and punches the button for the intercom. “Bridge, this is Carter. Sitrep.” “Four alien ships just came out of hyperspace,” her XO reports. “They’ve launched fighters and are preparing to open fire on the Alpha site.” It’s no point asking how the aliens knew their location. They seem to know everything. Sooner or later, they invade even the places you thought were most secure. And by now, she knows the odds. Six ships against one and no ground-to-air planetary defence leave her with only one option. “Begin immediate evac,” Sam orders, zipping up the jumpsuit she hadn’t bothered to take off to sleep. “And signal Daedalus and Sun Tzu. We could use the back-up.” She only hopes they’ll be here in time. “Aye, ma’am.” Sam leaves the covers on the floor and makes a cursory glance in the mirror on her way out of her quarters. There are dark circles under her eyes, but that can’t be helped. You’ll need sleep, rest and peace of mind to get rid of those. She has neither. Now, she doubts she ever will. By the time Sam reaches the bridge, the ship is filled to the brim with evacuees and the battle is well underway. Like Earth all over again, she sees the enemy ships bombarding the planet where the Alpha site is located, leaving the surface a fiery mass of smoke and death. “Shields are at 53 % and dropping. Daedalus and Sun Tzu will be here in eight minutes,” says the navigator as Sam sits down. It’s pointless to remark that they might as well be here in an hour. They’re outnumbered and outgunned. If they escape with even a fraction of the evacuees, it’ll be a miracle. “What about the evacuation?” Sam asks. “We’ve beamed up 634 people and about 200 have managed to escape in the cargo ships the Tok’ra lent us.” The report comes from her chief science officer. “The rest have taken refuge in the underground base.” Being located about four kilometres beneath the surface, the underground base had held almost six thousand people in the past few months. No one knew if the alien weapons could penetrate that far, but if they couldn’t, the people could survive there for about two weeks with the current level of rations and water supply. The Hammond wouldn’t survive this battle more than thirty minutes. “We’ve lost Valkyrie 3 and 7 too,” reports the helmsman, his eyes on the screen. Impacts on the shields make the ship rock as the Hammond navigates the battlefield, trying to keep mostly out of harm’s way. It is becoming increasingly difficult. “The rest are engaging the enemy fighters.” Sam takes a glance at the screen where markers are pinpointing the location of all engaging ships. Her remaining 302s - four in total - are down in the atmosphere, dodging both fighters and navigating around the planetary bombardment. She makes her decision in an instant. “Recall all fighters.” She cannot afford to lose more of them. They can’t be replaced. “Then get me a line down to the base.” The crew complies without question, a testament to what they have been forced to do at other times. Within seconds, she has an audio-only link to the base. “Alpha site, this is Carter on the Hammond. Do you receive?” “We hear you loud and clear, Colonel.” It’s Colonel Dixon’s voice, of former SG-13. For a moment, Sam recalls the fateful day Janet died and her throat constricts. “Our hold is full, but Daedalus and Sun Tzu are five minutes out.” Sam cuts right to the chase. No point sweet-talking or downplaying the truth. From the base, Dixon should know what’s going on in space. He’ll know the odds too. He’ll understand her choice. “We have to leave.” It earns her a few sideward glances from her crew, but no one objects. They’ve seen too much to delude themselves any further. This battle can’t be won even with a sacrifice. There’ll only show up more ships, like on Earth. “I understand, Colonel.” Dixon’s voice emphasises that. Sam’s glad she can’t see his face, though. She feels like she’s leaving them behind and she doesn’t want to see the knowing look in Dixon’s eyes. Chances are, the aliens will kill them too. They’ve killed so many before. “We’ll return once we’ve shipped our evacuees to the Gamma site.” Her voice is hard, but inside she’s trembling. “We’ll be back, Colonel.” “Much appreciated,” Dixon says. “Godspeed, Hammond.” She doesn’t know what to respond to that, so she simply says, “Hammond out,” and turns to the helmsman as the ship rocks once more with weapons impacts. “Target the closest alien ship with Asgard weapons and prepare to jump to hyperspace.” “Ma’am?” The questioning tone almost makes her waver. Sam swallows and stares at the fiery chasm that’s opening in the planet’s surface below them, several hundred kilometres away from the Alpha site. Daedalus and Sun Tzu should hopefully manage to extract fifteen hundred more. But the longer they stay here, the Hammond’s chances to get away with their cargo intact is dropping. “We can’t hold the ships off any longer. Our shields will fail long before Daedalus and Sun Tzu gets here.” Sam meets the helmsman’s worried eyes. “So do it, Major.”
*** In the conference room’s monitor, Carter looks defeated. She sits by the Hammond’s conference table and stares into the air, her once well-kept braid in a slight mess. There is a picture in her hands, torn at the edges, blurry writing on the back. Caldwell has seen it many times, but never asked who’s in it. They’ve never been like that. Personal. But Carter’s that type. She wants to connect with people, to make them feel at ease. Except, she doesn’t smile anymore. None of them do. After all, what is there to smile about? Earth is gone, so are both the Alpha and Beta sites. The Sun Tzu was lost trying to extract evacuees from the Alpha site, leaving only the two of them, the Gamma site and the question they’ve asked themselves since they lost Earth five months ago: what now? “Tomorrow, we’ll meet up with the Tok’ra remnant. They’ve agreed to lend us more of their cargo ships and a Ha’tak, but they refuse to leave this galaxy.” Caldwell looks above the top of the papers in his hands. Carter doesn’t turn to look at him or even acknowledge that she’s heard him. He holds back a sigh and lowers the papers. “Carter.” She blinks and turns her head. When she sees his look, she straightens and returns the picture to her jumpsuit’s left front pocket. “Sorry. I spaced out.” This behaviour used to irritate him, but now he doesn’t comment. Five months of running and defeat will do that to people. He sees it everywhere these days. “The Tok’ra-“ “I’m guessing they won’t leave,” Carter says. “I figured they wouldn’t.” She reaches up to rub her eyes and heaves a long sigh, looking pale and undernourished. “But we got the ships?” “Yes,” Caldwell says. He looks at the papers in his hands. “I suggest you handle the exchange since you know them. Take the ships back here and I’ll have everything packed and ready.” “I’m sorry.” Carter’s looking at him. It feels like she is crawling under his skin. She has that effect on people. He’s seen it first-hand. Whether she’s on SG-1, Atlantis or the George Hammond, people gravitate to her. Some look like fools, others are understandable. But Caldwell is neither. He holds back, keeping the distance. He raises his eyebrow. “For what?” “I know this wasn’t what you wanted.” That empathetic tone, it’s like a knife sometimes. Like she knows. Like she’s inside his head with all her…her… The word won’t come to him, but he knows it’s something he must resist. If he doesn’t, he’ll break and then he’ll have nothing. He’s holding on to a string that’s about to snap and he’s counting the seconds, denying the inevitable. “We’re losing,” Caldwell says, not looking at her. “There’s no sugar-coating that. Best option is to retreat.” “If we still had Earth…” Carter drifts off and Caldwell sees now that there’s a bright sheen in her eyes. It makes his uneasiness dig deeper and fester, like something threatening to devour him from within. “We don’t.” His words come out a bit harsher than he’d planned. Carter glances at him, unshed tears in her eyes, and Caldwell swears inwardly. This isn’t how he used to be, and sometimes, his old self remembers. He puts aside the papers and faces the monitor, meeting her eyes, trying to bring forth some of that empathy he sees in her. “But,” Caldwell says firmly, “we have the people on our ships and on the Gamma site. We owe them a future.” Carter doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t release the tears either. She never does. She always comes just to the edge, but she never crosses. But she gets further than him, and for that he envies her.
*** The trip to Pegasus takes almost a month. Although they’re able to travel at different speeds, no one is left behind in case the aliens take up the pursuit. The strong must look after the weak. They take every precaution they can and as far as Daedalus can tell, the aliens are leaving them alone. It feels like a break for many, but Sam sits tensely on the bridge every day, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even when they reach Atlantis and friendly faces greet them, Sam can’t allow herself the guilty pleasure of relief or hope. She knows she’s changed. She sees it in the Atlanteans’ faces. They once knew her as the famed Colonel Samantha Carter. Now she’s a shell. A prisoner of war that hasn’t realised she’s out of the warzone. While the survivors are relocated to Atlantis and begin to live once more, Sam doesn’t leave the Hammond. She can’t. She hasn’t left the ship to go planet-side in nearly seven months. She fears that if she does, the world will come crashing down. The aliens will show up once more and this new life will die as quickly as the old one. Comfort comes in the form of her 2x3 metres quarters, of emergency rations and of the worn jumpsuit that’s been patched with mismatched textile. It comes from walking through corridors that show signs of countless damage and repairs, from a captain’s chair where she knows every nick and scratch. John doesn’t understand. He wasn’t there. She regrets this, regrets that what they might have had was torn apart by the circumstances. Regrets that she’s damaged goods. That’s she’s a shell that’s too scared to leave her ship and that she almost wishes she was back in the Milky Way.
*** “Permission to come on board, Colonel?” Carter’s head snaps up like a deer caught in the headlights. Her spoon clatters to the table, spreading porridge everywhere. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before finally saying, “Of course.” Caldwell steps through the doorway leading to the Hammond’s mess hall. He walks over to sit down opposite of Carter, and takes a moment to appraise her. “You look like crap.” He’s blunt because it’s the only way he knows. Carter’s eyes widen and, for a moment, they flash with emotion, but then she scoffs humourlessly and re-focuses on her porridge. “Thanks, I guess.” She peers at him. “What’s the dress-up for?” Caldwell brushes imaginary dirt off the cuffs of his dress blues, then clasps his hands on top of the table. “Memorial service. I assume you got the memo.” Carter withdraws her eyes. “Yeah. I got it.” “You didn’t leave your uniform on Earth, did you?” Caldwell is pleased with the hint of ire that flashes in her features, as if he just paid her an insult - or woke her up. “It starts in two hours.” “I’ll be sure to follow the broadcast,” Carter says. She picks up her utensils and plate and gets to her feet. Without another word, she’s disappeared down the corridor. Caldwell sighs and follows, catching up to her in the elevator. He shuts the elevator off and blocks her access to the control panel, crossing his arms. “It’s not a request, Colonel. It’s an order.” “We’re the same rank, Caldwell. You can’t boss me around.” Carter’s voice is laced with anger. Perhaps it’s the only emotion she can summon these days. Caldwell knows it’s the one most easily accessible to him anyway. “I’ve got seniority, Carter, and I’m telling you to get down there. Now.” “Goddamnit, Caldwell.” She tries to wrestle past him, to get the elevator moving again, but Caldwell stands firm. “Get the hell off my ship.” “No.” Carter eyes him for a moment and he knows what will happen. In the blink of an eye, she lunges for him and slams him into the wall. Despite looking malnourished and sick, her body’s has strength - or perhaps it’s sheer will. Caldwell pushes back, getting a grasp on the arm stretching for the control panel, and wrenches it around. She lets out a gasp of pain, but swings on her heel to deliver a sharp elbow jab to his lower intestines. Air escapes him for a moment and stars flash behind his eyes. He feels her reaching for the panel again and, with a shout of effort, he surges forward and slams her to the opposite wall. Grasping both arms tightly, he pins her against the steel. “Get off!” Carter struggles against his hold, but he’s strong too. She can’t get anywhere. “You’re a pathetic excuse for an officer, Carter,” Caldwell says, his voice dripping with frustration. “Look at you. Moping around on your ship. Mistreating yourself. Shutting everyone out. I can hardly believe it.” Angry tears are gathering in Carter’s narrowed eyes. “Like you’re any better. You may preach and pretend all you’d like, Steven, but admit it: part of you is still back there. You want to go back there as bad as me.” “To do what?” Caldwell growls, shaking her once. “Get myself killed? Get my crew killed? For what? Honour? Sacrifice? We lost, Sam. I have to deal with that. And so do you.” “There’s nothing for me here.” Carter’s eyes are wavering, filled to the brim with tears that are finally - as if having lingered on a cliff-hanger for months - released. The anger is gone, like it has been completely drenched by ice-cold water. Shocked by the sudden change, Caldwell’s grip loosens. Anger, he can handle. Tears, he can’t. He stumbles backwards until his back hits the wall, but Carter makes no attempt to reach the control panel again. Instead, she just stares at him with those large, blue eyes, pained and worming her way further beneath his skin. It’s too much. Caldwell closes his eyes, feeling his hands clench. “Then what did we fight for?” “I don’t know.” Her voice breaks. Caldwell opens his eyes, sees again the tears flowing freely down her cheeks, and believes that now he’s finally seeing something more than a shell. The mask is cracking. But his is too. Something wet drips down his cheek. He wipes it off and is shocked to find it came from his own eyes. Carter looks at him with a knowing look and steps towards him. He steps instinctively backwards as she reaches up, but the wall is behind him and he can’t escape. She brushes his cheek with her hand, and the warmth feels good.
*** It happens only once. But he seems to be fine with that. They both needed a physical outlet, and no one else could understand what their lives have been like. How it was to command a ship and be unable to save your world, unable to save thousands of people within your reach and forced to retreat when you were at the end of your sanity. Sam looks herself in the mirror and wonders if it’s easy to see her dress blues don’t fit her properly anymore. But she thinks she almost looks like her old self. Her hair is in a neat braid, her pale face and dark circles are covered with make-up. “How do I look?” she asks aloud, turning to face Caldwell who is sitting on the edge of her bed, pulling on his shoes. He sits up, his shirt unbuttoned and his tie askew, and gives an approving nod. It makes her smile. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but it feels better to do it anyway. And she needs that.
*** People brighten up when they beam down to Atlantis’s gate room for the memorial service. Many are happy to see Carter again, some eagerly so. And despite the moments when he can see she’s uncomfortable, she returns their smiles and shares their laughs. That’s what he’s wanted to see. Her smile. Her happiness. Because it makes him feel warm and comforted. Because it’s something old and familiar, and he needs that to move on. To accept that he’s not going to be killed in space by the aliens that destroyed Earth and killed his friends, but that life has moved on and they have a second chance. So he smiles too. FIN
Went to find you in the backyard Hiding behind our busy lives Dreamer of a lighthouse in the woods To help us get back into the world From “Lighthouse” by Patrick Watson BRING US BACK HOME Space is silent. Sam has felt the truth of that the hard way. When she floated above the supergate in an EVA suit, watching and unable to do anything when the Ori ships came through, she thought she was going to die. In those few minutes before the Odyssey showed up, she had plenty of time to envision how those ships would eventually hover above Earth, silent and deadly. As it turned out, it wasn’t the Ori who destroyed Earth. “Hammond, this is Daedalus. Are you picking up anything?” Caldwell’s voice echoes over the bridge’s speakers. He sounds cool and collected like always. So far from what Sam feels. Those working on the science station behind the captain’s chair shake their heads. Sam tries not to focus on the tension in their features, or the unshed tears in their eyes. Instead, she stares straight ahead at the dark, stormy planet in the bridge’s windows and hits the reply button on her armrest. “Negative, Daedalus. Do you want us to take another run?” Caldwell’s response is a tad slower than usual, almost hesitant, but it is enough to suggest to her that perhaps the man behind the mask isn’t as calm as he seems. Perhaps seeing Earth in person makes it impossible to deny the truth. Their home is gone. “No,” Caldwell says. “We don’t have time. The alien ships are on their way here. They’ve probably detected us. We’ll meet you back at the rendezvous.” “Copy that. George Hammond out.” With Daedalus equipped with a ZPM, Sam knows their sensor range is better. She gives a short nod to the helmsman. “Take us out, Major.” As the ship swivels around, Sam sees the once blue planet disappear from the windows, and she knows this will be the last time she’s here. Tomorrow, they might be dead. Everyone else is.
*** The aliens came while they were sleeping. In the euphoria of having defeated the Wraith superhive outside Earth, followed by a long but victorious battle against the Lucian Alliance, Homeworld Command believed they could finally have peace. Plans were made to have the stargate programme go public, to find a way to cooperate internationally, to expand to other planets. But the plans never had the chance to come to fruition. First, they lost contact with the Destiny’s crew. Then, planets on the outer rim of the galaxy went quiet. The Odyssey was sent on recon and never returned. Only when the stargate network collapsed and each stargate exploded did everyone wake up. In a single surgical attack, the Milky Way galaxy was crippled. Cheyenne Mountain and most of Colorado was gone in the blink of an eye. Atlantis only survived because it had been sent to Pegasus months earlier. Many of Earth’s finest were lost in those first few days. Before Earth managed to mount a proper defence, a single alien ship showed up. Black, massive and alien. Easily four times as large as the Wraith superhive and seemingly invincible. In the end, it took the sacrifice of the Apollo to take it down. By then, they had already lost so much. Millions, maybe billions of lives. Complete and utter destruction. No hostages taken. There were few options. Immediately, the remaining ships were recalled from their missions to begin shuttling people off-world to the Alpha, Beta and Gamma sites. VIPs were prioritised, civilians and military. It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t proper, but it was their future. They ran trips non-stop for a week, then Daedalus reported that eight aliens ships were on the way to Earth. They couldn’t win. The surviving members of Homeworld Command ordered a full retreat. No fighting. With Odyssey and Apollo gone, they had only three ships left. This was about survival. They ran, but they had to look back. Their life was ending.
*** “Any word from the Beta site?” She is almost hesitant to ask. The Beta site is the new base of Homeworld Command. With never-ending news of death and destruction coming in from every corner of the galaxy, hope grows fainter by each silent hour. No news is bad news. Caldwell’s face is pale in the conference room’s monitor. He’s seated in a similar room on board Daedalus. This is the only time when they may talk in private. They can’t take the chance on a face-to-face. Something might happen while they’re off their ships. It’s a constant run. “We’re still waiting.” Caldwell’s face is tense, but solemn. He looks strong. Sam feels edgy, weak, but forces herself to sit straight. “Sun Tzu should’ve arrived there three hours ago.” With the aliens able to intercept and decrypt subspace messages, long-range communications have been reduced to meet-and-greets such as theirs, so it could be hours or a day before they know more. They just have to wait. She hates it. The inaction is making her restless. Sam can see Daedalus in the conference room’s windows. It looks as battered and beaten as the Hammond, but as the late General O’Neill would’ve said, at least they’re still flying. They could still make a difference. “The Jaffa are planning a counter-offensive,” Sam says, breaking the silence. “They’ve asked if we wish to join.” Caldwell meets her eyes head-on. “How’s your ammo?” “We still have the Asgard plasma beam weapons, but we’re down to about 50 % capacity on the railguns and missiles.” Sam holds back a sigh and rubs her eyes tiredly. “You?” “About the same.” On the monitor, Caldwell taps his fingers on the table and stares into the air. He looks conflicted, but only for a second. “We should take the fight to them. There’s been enough running.” Sam doesn’t reply right away. She stares out through the windows, running every possible scenario through her head. It’s not good. Nine times out of ten, she foresees a disaster. But they’re already down. Earth is gone and the Beta site could be too. They can’t get any further, can they? “Okay. Let’s suggest it to the higher ups,” Sam says. Caldwell gives an approving nod. It doesn’t comfort her. It doesn’t convince her that this is the best course of action. At the end of the day, half of her wants to fight and the other half wants to cut their losses and retreat to Pegasus and Atlantis. Today, the first half wins out when the Sun Tzu returns to tell them that the Beta site is gone. The top of their hierarchy now ends with the two of them. Sam has never felt so lost in her life. So she follows Caldwell’s lead. Wherever it may go.
*** Sparks from overhead exposed wires make Caldwell flinch. The bridge is dark save for the emergency lighting. All around him, his crew is doing damage control. A couple of consoles have already blown out. Debris litters the floor. Everyone look beat up, including himself. “Daedalus, this is Hammond. How bad is it?” Carter’s voice finally gets through the previously static speakers. Caldwell gives the communications officer a short nod of approval and then moves over to the captain’s chair to respond. “We’re still here,” Caldwell says while looking around. Although his crew looks bruised and injured, they look even more determined than before. Some even smirk and give him a salute. That’s the effect of a victory, however small. “You?” Outside the bridge windows, Caldwell can see the Hammond navigate through the debris field surrounding them. Chunks of what was once Ha’taks and enemy ships drift around amongst the four or five Allied ships still in one piece. He tries not to think about the dozens of Jaffa ships that didn’t make it. Today’s a victory. “We’re not going into hyperspace any time soon, but we’re alright,” Carter says. Her face eventually shows up on one of the monitors, tired and grimy, but alive. There’s a stony quality to her expression, however, when she adds, “Lost four 302s, though. Good men.” Caldwell closes his eyes for a brief second. He only lost one out of the seven fighters he had left, but he knows how Carter feels. He opens his eyes again and hardens his voice. “They’ll be honoured.” He believes in those words. Truly and fully. Until the end of time. “Yeah…” Carter looks thoughtful. “At least we’ve dealt the aliens a blow. Today.” She puts on a smile, but it doesn’t reach her eyes. The action feels like a wake-up call. Against the loss of entire worlds, of half the galaxy’s population, their destruction of eight alien ships is nothing but a pinprick. That’s the harsh truth of it. Caldwell knows it, but he can’t acknowledge it. Thoughts like that are killer to morale. But in front of all these people, he can’t tell her that. So he lets the moment pass and makes plans for their next move. She nods and concedes to everything, and he wonders where the famous Colonel Samantha Carter with the backbone has gone. There’s a shell where she used to be. Later, he realises that she’s just surviving. They all are. One day at the time. So he leaves the matter for another day. Always another day.
*** The sound of klaxons jerks her out of a fitful sleep. Sam stumbles out of bed, feet caught in the covers, and punches the button for the intercom. “Bridge, this is Carter. Sitrep.” “Four alien ships just came out of hyperspace,” her XO reports. “They’ve launched fighters and are preparing to open fire on the Alpha site.” It’s no point asking how the aliens knew their location. They seem to know everything. Sooner or later, they invade even the places you thought were most secure. And by now, she knows the odds. Six ships against one and no ground-to-air planetary defence leave her with only one option. “Begin immediate evac,” Sam orders, zipping up the jumpsuit she hadn’t bothered to take off to sleep. “And signal Daedalus and Sun Tzu. We could use the back-up.” She only hopes they’ll be here in time. “Aye, ma’am.” Sam leaves the covers on the floor and makes a cursory glance in the mirror on her way out of her quarters. There are dark circles under her eyes, but that can’t be helped. You’ll need sleep, rest and peace of mind to get rid of those. She has neither. Now, she doubts she ever will. By the time Sam reaches the bridge, the ship is filled to the brim with evacuees and the battle is well underway. Like Earth all over again, she sees the enemy ships bombarding the planet where the Alpha site is located, leaving the surface a fiery mass of smoke and death. “Shields are at 53 % and dropping. Daedalus and Sun Tzu will be here in eight minutes,” says the navigator as Sam sits down. It’s pointless to remark that they might as well be here in an hour. They’re outnumbered and outgunned. If they escape with even a fraction of the evacuees, it’ll be a miracle. “What about the evacuation?” Sam asks. “We’ve beamed up 634 people and about 200 have managed to escape in the cargo ships the Tok’ra lent us.” The report comes from her chief science officer. “The rest have taken refuge in the underground base.” Being located about four kilometres beneath the surface, the underground base had held almost six thousand people in the past few months. No one knew if the alien weapons could penetrate that far, but if they couldn’t, the people could survive there for about two weeks with the current level of rations and water supply. The Hammond wouldn’t survive this battle more than thirty minutes. “We’ve lost Valkyrie 3 and 7 too,” reports the helmsman, his eyes on the screen. Impacts on the shields make the ship rock as the Hammond navigates the battlefield, trying to keep mostly out of harm’s way. It is becoming increasingly difficult. “The rest are engaging the enemy fighters.” Sam takes a glance at the screen where markers are pinpointing the location of all engaging ships. Her remaining 302s - four in total - are down in the atmosphere, dodging both fighters and navigating around the planetary bombardment. She makes her decision in an instant. “Recall all fighters.” She cannot afford to lose more of them. They can’t be replaced. “Then get me a line down to the base.” The crew complies without question, a testament to what they have been forced to do at other times. Within seconds, she has an audio-only link to the base. “Alpha site, this is Carter on the Hammond. Do you receive?” “We hear you loud and clear, Colonel.” It’s Colonel Dixon’s voice, of former SG-13. For a moment, Sam recalls the fateful day Janet died and her throat constricts. “Our hold is full, but Daedalus and Sun Tzu are five minutes out.” Sam cuts right to the chase. No point sweet-talking or downplaying the truth. From the base, Dixon should know what’s going on in space. He’ll know the odds too. He’ll understand her choice. “We have to leave.” It earns her a few sideward glances from her crew, but no one objects. They’ve seen too much to delude themselves any further. This battle can’t be won even with a sacrifice. There’ll only show up more ships, like on Earth. “I understand, Colonel.” Dixon’s voice emphasises that. Sam’s glad she can’t see his face, though. She feels like she’s leaving them behind and she doesn’t want to see the knowing look in Dixon’s eyes. Chances are, the aliens will kill them too. They’ve killed so many before. “We’ll return once we’ve shipped our evacuees to the Gamma site.” Her voice is hard, but inside she’s trembling. “We’ll be back, Colonel.” “Much appreciated,” Dixon says. “Godspeed, Hammond.” She doesn’t know what to respond to that, so she simply says, “Hammond out,” and turns to the helmsman as the ship rocks once more with weapons impacts. “Target the closest alien ship with Asgard weapons and prepare to jump to hyperspace.” “Ma’am?” The questioning tone almost makes her waver. Sam swallows and stares at the fiery chasm that’s opening in the planet’s surface below them, several hundred kilometres away from the Alpha site. Daedalus and Sun Tzu should hopefully manage to extract fifteen hundred more. But the longer they stay here, the Hammond’s chances to get away with their cargo intact is dropping. “We can’t hold the ships off any longer. Our shields will fail long before Daedalus and Sun Tzu gets here.” Sam meets the helmsman’s worried eyes. “So do it, Major.”
*** In the conference room’s monitor, Carter looks defeated. She sits by the Hammond’s conference table and stares into the air, her once well-kept braid in a slight mess. There is a picture in her hands, torn at the edges, blurry writing on the back. Caldwell has seen it many times, but never asked who’s in it. They’ve never been like that. Personal. But Carter’s that type. She wants to connect with people, to make them feel at ease. Except, she doesn’t smile anymore. None of them do. After all, what is there to smile about? Earth is gone, so are both the Alpha and Beta sites. The Sun Tzu was lost trying to extract evacuees from the Alpha site, leaving only the two of them, the Gamma site and the question they’ve asked themselves since they lost Earth five months ago: what now? “Tomorrow, we’ll meet up with the Tok’ra remnant. They’ve agreed to lend us more of their cargo ships and a Ha’tak, but they refuse to leave this galaxy.” Caldwell looks above the top of the papers in his hands. Carter doesn’t turn to look at him or even acknowledge that she’s heard him. He holds back a sigh and lowers the papers. “Carter.” She blinks and turns her head. When she sees his look, she straightens and returns the picture to her jumpsuit’s left front pocket. “Sorry. I spaced out.” This behaviour used to irritate him, but now he doesn’t comment. Five months of running and defeat will do that to people. He sees it everywhere these days. “The Tok’ra-“ “I’m guessing they won’t leave,” Carter says. “I figured they wouldn’t.” She reaches up to rub her eyes and heaves a long sigh, looking pale and undernourished. “But we got the ships?” “Yes,” Caldwell says. He looks at the papers in his hands. “I suggest you handle the exchange since you know them. Take the ships back here and I’ll have everything packed and ready.” “I’m sorry.” Carter’s looking at him. It feels like she is crawling under his skin. She has that effect on people. He’s seen it first-hand. Whether she’s on SG-1, Atlantis or the George Hammond, people gravitate to her. Some look like fools, others are understandable. But Caldwell is neither. He holds back, keeping the distance. He raises his eyebrow. “For what?” “I know this wasn’t what you wanted.” That empathetic tone, it’s like a knife sometimes. Like she knows. Like she’s inside his head with all her…her… The word won’t come to him, but he knows it’s something he must resist. If he doesn’t, he’ll break and then he’ll have nothing. He’s holding on to a string that’s about to snap and he’s counting the seconds, denying the inevitable. “We’re losing,” Caldwell says, not looking at her. “There’s no sugar-coating that. Best option is to retreat.” “If we still had Earth…” Carter drifts off and Caldwell sees now that there’s a bright sheen in her eyes. It makes his uneasiness dig deeper and fester, like something threatening to devour him from within. “We don’t.” His words come out a bit harsher than he’d planned. Carter glances at him, unshed tears in her eyes, and Caldwell swears inwardly. This isn’t how he used to be, and sometimes, his old self remembers. He puts aside the papers and faces the monitor, meeting her eyes, trying to bring forth some of that empathy he sees in her. “But,” Caldwell says firmly, “we have the people on our ships and on the Gamma site. We owe them a future.” Carter doesn’t reply, but she doesn’t release the tears either. She never does. She always comes just to the edge, but she never crosses. But she gets further than him, and for that he envies her.
*** The trip to Pegasus takes almost a month. Although they’re able to travel at different speeds, no one is left behind in case the aliens take up the pursuit. The strong must look after the weak. They take every precaution they can and as far as Daedalus can tell, the aliens are leaving them alone. It feels like a break for many, but Sam sits tensely on the bridge every day, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Even when they reach Atlantis and friendly faces greet them, Sam can’t allow herself the guilty pleasure of relief or hope. She knows she’s changed. She sees it in the Atlanteans’ faces. They once knew her as the famed Colonel Samantha Carter. Now she’s a shell. A prisoner of war that hasn’t realised she’s out of the warzone. While the survivors are relocated to Atlantis and begin to live once more, Sam doesn’t leave the Hammond. She can’t. She hasn’t left the ship to go planet-side in nearly seven months. She fears that if she does, the world will come crashing down. The aliens will show up once more and this new life will die as quickly as the old one. Comfort comes in the form of her 2x3 metres quarters, of emergency rations and of the worn jumpsuit that’s been patched with mismatched textile. It comes from walking through corridors that show signs of countless damage and repairs, from a captain’s chair where she knows every nick and scratch. John doesn’t understand. He wasn’t there. She regrets this, regrets that what they might have had was torn apart by the circumstances. Regrets that she’s damaged goods. That’s she’s a shell that’s too scared to leave her ship and that she almost wishes she was back in the Milky Way.
*** “Permission to come on board, Colonel?” Carter’s head snaps up like a deer caught in the headlights. Her spoon clatters to the table, spreading porridge everywhere. She opens and closes her mouth a few times before finally saying, “Of course.” Caldwell steps through the doorway leading to the Hammond’s mess hall. He walks over to sit down opposite of Carter, and takes a moment to appraise her. “You look like crap.” He’s blunt because it’s the only way he knows. Carter’s eyes widen and, for a moment, they flash with emotion, but then she scoffs humourlessly and re-focuses on her porridge. “Thanks, I guess.” She peers at him. “What’s the dress-up for?” Caldwell brushes imaginary dirt off the cuffs of his dress blues, then clasps his hands on top of the table. “Memorial service. I assume you got the memo.” Carter withdraws her eyes. “Yeah. I got it.” “You didn’t leave your uniform on Earth, did you?” Caldwell is pleased with the hint of ire that flashes in her features, as if he just paid her an insult - or woke her up. “It starts in two hours.” “I’ll be sure to follow the broadcast,” Carter says. She picks up her utensils and plate and gets to her feet. Without another word, she’s disappeared down the corridor. Caldwell sighs and follows, catching up to her in the elevator. He shuts the elevator off and blocks her access to the control panel, crossing his arms. “It’s not a request, Colonel. It’s an order.” “We’re the same rank, Caldwell. You can’t boss me around.” Carter’s voice is laced with anger. Perhaps it’s the only emotion she can summon these days. Caldwell knows it’s the one most easily accessible to him anyway. “I’ve got seniority, Carter, and I’m telling you to get down there. Now.” “Goddamnit, Caldwell.” She tries to wrestle past him, to get the elevator moving again, but Caldwell stands firm. “Get the hell off my ship.” “No.” Carter eyes him for a moment and he knows what will happen. In the blink of an eye, she lunges for him and slams him into the wall. Despite looking malnourished and sick, her body’s has strength - or perhaps it’s sheer will. Caldwell pushes back, getting a grasp on the arm stretching for the control panel, and wrenches it around. She lets out a gasp of pain, but swings on her heel to deliver a sharp elbow jab to his lower intestines. Air escapes him for a moment and stars flash behind his eyes. He feels her reaching for the panel again and, with a shout of effort, he surges forward and slams her to the opposite wall. Grasping both arms tightly, he pins her against the steel. “Get off!” Carter struggles against his hold, but he’s strong too. She can’t get anywhere. “You’re a pathetic excuse for an officer, Carter,” Caldwell says, his voice dripping with frustration. “Look at you. Moping around on your ship. Mistreating yourself. Shutting everyone out. I can hardly believe it.” Angry tears are gathering in Carter’s narrowed eyes. “Like you’re any better. You may preach and pretend all you’d like, Steven, but admit it: part of you is still back there. You want to go back there as bad as me.” “To do what?” Caldwell growls, shaking her once. “Get myself killed? Get my crew killed? For what? Honour? Sacrifice? We lost, Sam. I have to deal with that. And so do you.” “There’s nothing for me here.” Carter’s eyes are wavering, filled to the brim with tears that are finally - as if having lingered on a cliff-hanger for months - released. The anger is gone, like it has been completely drenched by ice-cold water. Shocked by the sudden change, Caldwell’s grip loosens. Anger, he can handle. Tears, he can’t. He stumbles backwards until his back hits the wall, but Carter makes no attempt to reach the control panel again. Instead, she just stares at him with those large, blue eyes, pained and worming her way further beneath his skin. It’s too much. Caldwell closes his eyes, feeling his hands clench. “Then what did we fight for?” “I don’t know.” Her voice breaks. Caldwell opens his eyes, sees again the tears flowing freely down her cheeks, and believes that now he’s finally seeing something more than a shell. The mask is cracking. But his is too. Something wet drips down his cheek. He wipes it off and is shocked to find it came from his own eyes. Carter looks at him with a knowing look and steps towards him. He steps instinctively backwards as she reaches up, but the wall is behind him and he can’t escape. She brushes his cheek with her hand, and the warmth feels good.
*** It happens only once. But he seems to be fine with that. They both needed a physical outlet, and no one else could understand what their lives have been like. How it was to command a ship and be unable to save your world, unable to save thousands of people within your reach and forced to retreat when you were at the end of your sanity. Sam looks herself in the mirror and wonders if it’s easy to see her dress blues don’t fit her properly anymore. But she thinks she almost looks like her old self. Her hair is in a neat braid, her pale face and dark circles are covered with make-up. “How do I look?” she asks aloud, turning to face Caldwell who is sitting on the edge of her bed, pulling on his shoes. He sits up, his shirt unbuttoned and his tie askew, and gives an approving nod. It makes her smile. It doesn’t quite reach her eyes, but it feels better to do it anyway. And she needs that.
*** People brighten up when they beam down to Atlantis’s gate room for the memorial service. Many are happy to see Carter again, some eagerly so. And despite the moments when he can see she’s uncomfortable, she returns their smiles and shares their laughs. That’s what he’s wanted to see. Her smile. Her happiness. Because it makes him feel warm and comforted. Because it’s something old and familiar, and he needs that to move on. To accept that he’s not going to be killed in space by the aliens that destroyed Earth and killed his friends, but that life has moved on and they have a second chance. So he smiles too. FIN