The Cost of Honor

by Stargate

  "He's an innocent man," Hammond said, very quietly. "Framing innocent men is not what we do, Colonel. Not ever. Leave that to the NID."

  "This is different-"

  "He damn near spent the rest of his life locked up in a Kinahhi jail, Colonel!"

  The curveball knocked him sideways. "What?"

  "You didn't know?" Hammond snorted an angry laugh. "Our treaty with the Kinahhi has an extradition clause, Colonel. If their technology hadn't proven his innocence, Crawford would still be there."

  Shit. A vivid memory erupted; strong, strangling fingers around his neck on the floating city of Tsapan. Quadesh had said it was used as some kind of prison, and as much as he loathed Bill Crawford... "I had no idea, sir. I didn't think we did extradition treaties with alien worlds."

  "Apparently you thought wrong, Colonel," Hammond snapped, chewing on words he was trying to keep from spilling out. He failed, exasperation and disbelief pouring out in an avalanche of resentment. "I defended you, Jack. When Ambassador Crawford accused you, I said it was impossible. I told him that we didn't operate that way."

  "Sir-"

  "I trusted you!"

  The disappointment in the General's face cut deep, but he had no answer to the accusation. It was impossible to explain his rock-solid certainty that Crawford needed to be taken out; from the first moment he'd seen the man, he'd felt the insidious threat, like the eyes of a predator boring into the back of his head. But he had no evidence, nothing but the gut instinct that had kept him alive for the past couple of decades. To a man like Hammond, that wasn't nearly enough. And good job too, in the grander scheme of things. So Jack didn't bother to explain, just dropped his gaze to the floor and offered the only thing left. "I'm sorry, sir. It was a bad call."

  Hammond was silent. In the quiet of the cell, Jack could hear the General's slow breathing and it sounded like reproof "You're in trouble here, son," Hammond sighed eventually. "I don't think I can help you."

  "I don't expect you to help me, sir." Nothing was said for a moment, but when Jack lifted his gaze their eyes locked. He swallowed hard and said, "Carter, however..."

  "Jack..."

  "She had nothing to do with Crawford! She doesn't even know about it. None of them do." He took a step forward, lowering his voice and edging close to things he normally ran from. "Sir, she only did it because I asked."

  Hammond blew out a short, angry breath. "I'm not sure that helps her case, son. Or yours."

  "She was following orders."

  "Illegal orders, Colonel. That's no defense."

  Damn it. Jack dropped onto the thin mattress of the cot, head in hands. "What about Daniel and Teal'c?"

  Hammond's feet scuffed against the floor as he moved toward the door. "I don't know yet." He paused. "A lot's changed since you've been gone, Jack. I'm afraid it's out of my hands."

  Looking up sharply, Jack caught the note of foreboding in the man's voice. "Sir?"

  Hammond stood by the door, grim-faced. The usual glint in his eyes was missing and he looked his age. Jack suspected the same could be said of himself "You know what they say, Colonel. The Captain goes down with his ship."

  Jack sat a little straighter, a gunshot of adrenaline tightening muscles and accelerating his heartbeat. Fight or flight. He could do neither, and the tension was a killer. "Are we sinking, sir?"

  Hammond said nothing, but his expressive face failed to hide his disquiet as he rapped loudly on the door. It was opened immediately by the airman on guard, but Hammond hesitated before he left. Then his shoulders lifted and fell in a resigned sigh and he turned back to face Jack. "I'll do what I can for your team, son."

  Jack rose slowly to his feet. "Thank you, sir."

  Hammond's scant nod was a brief acknowledgement, nothing more, and with it he was gone. The door closed, but Jack remained standing, staring silently at the wall. Something was wrong. Badly wrong. He could sense it deep down, like the oppressive sweep of a death glider coming in for the kill.

  And he had the sudden, horrible sensation that he was responsible.

  CHAPTER NINE

  aniel Jackson was ablaze with the kind of fury that had earned him a reputation back during his first years at the SGC. He could feel it coiling inside, like an overwound spring threatening to fly loose at any moment. As he stalked through the gray corridors of the SGC he'd never felt so trapped by the military institution in which he worked. The weight of the mountain above pressed down on him, compressing his outrage into diamond-hard slivers of rage. He refused to allow this injustice to happen. It was a travesty.

  Hurrying around a corner, he almost collided with a young airman. Daniel's strapped shoulder was still painful, and he dodged out of the way without missing a step, muttering a curse under his breath. He barely heard the murmured apology. His mind was still back in General Hammond's office, trying to grapple with the fact that the man seemed unable and - far worse - unwilling to help Jack. Hammond had looked haggard, his round face sagging and his eyes clouded with disappointment. Colonel O'Neill broke the law, Dr. Jackson. And he lied to cover it up. Even if I wanted to, there's nothing I can do to keep justice from being done.

  Justice! They'd saved three people's lives, brought them back from the dead. And now the establishment bureaucrats were going to hang Jack out to dry.

  Grinding his anger between his teeth, Daniel slowed as he approached his destination and rapped twice on the door.

  "Enter."

  He stormed into Teal'c's quarters, then stopped abruptly. It was dark, lit only by the candles his friend bought in bulk from Wal-Mart. Blinking against the gloom, he saw Teal'c sitting as if in kelno'reem, although Daniel knew the Jaffa could no longer perform the ritual meditation for real. Perhaps he found the familiar routine relaxing? Daniel envied him. But as he gently closed the door, Teal'c opened his eyes and there was nothing relaxed about the incisive gaze that immediately fixed on Daniel.

  "You were unsuccessful in persuading General Hammond to intervene on behalf of Major Carter and Colonel O'Neill."

  "Yup." Daniel cast around for a chair and sank down gingerly. "He says his hands are tied."

  Teal'c remained cross-legged on the floor, hands resting on his knees. "I had expected more from General Hammond."

  "Yeah, me too. It's almost as if..." Daniel shook his head, trying to identify the feeling of dislocation he'd sensed in the General. "I don't know - I just feel like there's something going on that we don't know about."

  In a single fluid motion, Teal'c swept to his feet and blew out the nearest candle. "I believe you are right, Daniel Jackson." He moved to the next flame and extinguished it with his fingers. "I believe there is much happening of which we are unaware."

  Daniel's mind drifted back to the moment he'd stepped through the gate. He'd instantly spotted the tall men lurking in the shadows, neat rows of alien boxes stacked up behind them. "The Kinahhi for one," he said sourly. "Looks like Kinsey's got his hands on the sheh fet after all."

  "Without your presence, Daniel Jackson, who was here to oppose its introduction?"

  Daniel sighed. "General Hammond? He was as opposed to it as Jack and me when we discussed it after we got back from Kinahhi. But," he shrugged and shifted in his chair, "he did say it was out of his hands. Kinsey's project."

  Teal'c put out a third candle and turned to face him. "You would have protested louder, would you not? As would O'Neill. You would not have been bound by the military structure."

  Daniel nodded slowly. "No. No I wouldn't. And Jack... Teal'c, what are you saying?"

  An eyebrow rose. "Only that it was fortunate for both Ambassador Crawford and the Kinahhi that SG-1 has been absent for the past five months."

  Fortunate...? Realization dawned like a cold, damp morning. "It was a set up." Like a pair of dice landing on sixes, everything fell into place. "Damaris knew we'd oppose the treaty. She let Quadesh give the plans to Jack just to get us out of the way." He slapped his forehead in frustration. "I knew it was too convenient."<
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  Teal'c inclined his head. "You are correct. Councilor Damaris could have had no doubt of our opposition to the treaty."

  Daniel frowned, remembering his outburst in the Kinahhi Council Chamber. He couldn't repress the creeping sensation that this was all his fault. Over the past seven years he'd learned to curb his natural openness, but in this case he clearly hadn't curbed it enough. Not that Jack had exactly been diplomatic either. Yet, surely Damaris had understood that Crawford spoke for the government? SG-1 had just been the `military escort' after all. Unless... "I think it's more than that," he said suddenly, sitting up straight and grimacing at the throb in his shoulder. "Teal'c - the sheh fet. They read our minds. They knew we were going to recommend to Hammond that we abandon the treaty. They knew exactly what we were thinking and they manipulated us accordingly."

  Teal'c growled softly. "They are indeed a cunning enemy, Daniel Jackson."

  "Oh yeah, we've been suckered." Daniel sank back into his chair, pulled his glasses from his face, and pinched the bridge of his nose. "They must have known that simply taking the plans would be enough to undermine SG-1's authority and ability to oppose the treaty. It was a poisoned chalice."

  Moving to the door, Teal'c flicked on the overhead lights and dispelled the darkness in his quarters. The remaining candles dimmed to insignificance. "The situation is grave, Daniel Jackson," said Teal'c. "The Kinahhi have successfully emasculated opposition to their foothold in this world."

  "Foothold?" Daniel doubted his choice of word was accidental; Teal'c always said precisely what he meant.

  "We must assume their intentions are hostile."

  The dull pain in Daniel's neck twinged as his muscles tensed, and nudged at a lurking headache. He was exhausted, his previous anger turning despondent. "This treaty is Kinsey's pet project, Teal'c. They're already testing the technology upstairs. And General Hammond..." He paused, remembering his recent encounter, and carefully met his friend's frank stare. "To be honest, I don't even know if he's on our side anymore."

  Shock fractured Teal'c's face into momentary alarm, and he sat down abruptly on the edge of his bed. "I cannot believe-"

  "I'm not saying he's siding with Kinsey," Daniel explained. "It's just... I think there's something going on between him and Jack. More than Jack just bending a few rules to get the job done."

  A slow nod from Teal'c confirmed Daniel's fears. "Then, perhaps, we should first discuss this with O'Neill?"

  "Under the nose of the guards in the stockade?"

  There was a long pause before Teal'c frowned slightly and said, "Is O'Neill not entitled to private discussions with his legal representatives?"

  "Yeah, but we're not-" Teal'c cocked an eyebrow, and Daniel winced. "He's really not gonna like that idea."

  "Perhaps not," Teal'c agreed, "however, there are more important matters at stake than O'Neill's pride."

  "True. So..." Daniel raised an eyebrow. "Who's going to-"

  "I believe you would be best suited to the task, Daniel Jackson."

  "You don't even want to draw straws...?"

  Teal'c rose, the hint of a smile playing around his mouth. "I do not. Instead, I shall attempt to discover the nature of the experiment the Kinahhi are conducting here." And with a polite bow of the head, he turned and made a swift exit.

  Daniel didn't stir. Partly because he hurt too much to move, and partly because he dreaded talking to Jack. He was under no illusion: trying to help Jack O'Neill was tantamount to pulling the thorn from the lion's paw. An apposite analogy, he thought, as he came to his feet and headed for the lion's den.

  Sam Carter perched on the edge of a bed in the infirmary, staring at nothing and trying to ignore her guard, who had stationed himself near the door. In case she made a break for it, presumably. He needn't have bothered. Escape was the last thing on her mind. Where would she go, anyway? The SGC was as close to home as it got, and she'd never been the sort of woman to run away from her responsibilities. Truth was, she'd known exactly what she was doing when she'd first taken the Kinahhi plans from the Colonel's hand, and she wasn't about to cry foul now.

  "Sam?" Dr. Janet Fraiser's voice was patiently insistent, nudging Sam out of her thoughts.

  She mustered a smile for her friend. "Hey, Janet."

  "How's the wound doing today?"

  "It's better." Which was what Janet wanted to hear; whether it was true, Sam didn't know. Her injury didn't matter, her mind was filled with other memories. The Jaffa - the boy - bloodied by her angry fists. Dead now. All of them dead in the blazing remains of Baal's palace. And Reed, burning too, consumed by the inferno she'd sent through the Stargate. A victim of her failure. If they hadn't crashed on that Godforsaken world, if she hadn't gotten the ampage wrong...

  "Sam?" Janet said again, the word accompanied by a soft touch on her hand. "You with us?"

  Shaking her head, Sam muttered an apology. "Sorry, miles away."

  "Somewhere nice?"

  "Not really."

  Janet nodded, compassion softening her professional scrutiny. "Colonel O'Neill said you had a tough time," she commented mildly, lifting Sam's shirt to expose the bandaged wound beneath her collarbone. "If you want to talk about it...?"

  "The Colonel said that?" For some reason, it surprised her. He had his own problems.

  "He's worried about you." Janet removed the dressing carefully. It stung and Sam risked a glance down. The short red rope of a scar was mostly healed, but one end was still weepy with infection. In her mind's eye, she could see the knife falling, feel it cutting through her flesh as if through raw chicken, and abruptly looked away. "It's getting better," Janet assured her. "We'll keep going with the antibiotics for the next few days."

  Sam nodded absently. It didn't much matter. Soon she'd be fit enough to transfer to Lackland and await her court martial - she doubted General Hammond would want to keep her under local confinement any longer than necessary. Dad would be mortified; she was probably the first Carter to ever take up residence in a military prison. She knew it should bother her, but all she could think about was that if Reed had made it back to the ship instead of her, then everything would have been a hell of a lot easier. If only... Story of her life.

  The gentle tugging of her shirt back into place distracted her, and she realized that her wound had been freshly dressed. "Thanks," she said, offering another weak smile.

  Janet's hand closed over hers. "It's going to be okay," she said quietly. "Sam, we'll sort this out. It won't end here."

  The warmth in her friend's voice stirred something deep, penetrating the gray lethargy that seemed to stand between Sam and the rest of the world. Tears lumped in her throat, shaking her voice as she murmured, "It's already over, Janet. There's nothing-

  "Carter?"

  She turned at the sound of the voice, and saw Colonel O'Neill standing near the door watching her. "Sir." His escort, Major Lee, lurked uneasily behind him.

  O'Neill's gaze flitted between herself and Janet. "How you doing?"

  "Fine, sir," Sam lied. "You?"

  "Fine." His lie was equally transparent. The bruising on his face might have been fading, but she could see pain in his eyes and doubted it had anything to do with his injuries. "Look," he said, taking a step closer and lowering his voice. Lee didn't move, but his jaw tightened. Probably praying the Colonel wasn't going to cause trouble. "I've talked to Hammond. You just tell them you were following my orders and-"

  "Sir?" Lee edged forward. He looked like he wished he was pinned down by a battalion of Jaffa rather than confronting Colonel O'Neill, but he did his job nonetheless. "I'm sorry, sir, but you can't discuss the case with Major Carter."

  The Colonel flung him a deadly look. "Excuse me, Major? I thought you-"

  "Sir," Sam interrupted, "he's right. And I've already told them the truth."

  "That is the truth!" the Colonel protested. But she didn't turn around. "Carter!" His voice was cut off by the closing door, and silently Sam followed her guard back toward her ce
ll. What was the point of fighting this? She deserved to be punished. She'd broken the rules, she'd deceived General Hammond. She'd beaten a boy to a pulp and incinerated Lieutenant Reed. Shouldn't she be held to account?

  And she was so tired of fighting. So, so tired.

  "I'm sorry, sir, you don't have access." The young Sergeant who barred Teal'c's way appeared nervous, his fingers clamped around his weapon as though he would use it as a club. Teal'c ignored his words, looking over the man's head into the empty corridor beyond. Level seventeen was a little used part of the complex, reserved mostly for the storage of equipment. A strange place, he thought, for the trial of the Kinahhi technology.

  "Do you know the nature of the experiment being conducted within?" It was a vain hope that the man would answer, but he had to ask nonetheless.

  "No, sir. Only Senator Kinsey's staff are permitted inside."

  "And the Kinahhi?"

  The Sergeant nodded. "Yes, sir. But I-" His attention snapped to something behind Teal'c, and as the Jaffa turned he saw a line of approximately twenty orange-clad men snaking down the corridor. Their jumpsuits, he knew, were those of prisoners and their wary eyes darted from side to side as they walked, in manacles, along the quiet corridor. "Excuse me," the soldier said, stepping around Teal'c and taking an armful of paperwork from the man escorting the prisoners. And then the snake was on the move once more, disappearing through a doorway on the far side of the security checkpoint.

  Teal'c made no comment, but looked steadily at the young Sergeant. Under his scrutiny, a faint flush rose to the man's face. "If you're going to ask me why they're here, don't bother, sir," the soldier said. "I have no idea."

  "Then these men are not the first to arrive?"

  A shake of the head was the only answer forthcoming. "Just doing my job."

  Teal'c nodded a silent acknowledgement and turned away. It was clear he would get no answers here, yet he had learned enough for now. The base was still nominally under the command of General Hammond; he would seek the truth there. Despite Daniel Jackson's concerns, Teal'c could not believe that O'Neill's deception had so damaged General Hammond's faith in SG-1 that he would hide the truth if he knew it. However, if O'Neill's actions had weakened the General's authority within the hierarchy of the Air Force, then matters were grave indeed.