by Karen Miller
Oh thank God. Thank God. She had to wait again before replying. “That’s excellent news, sir.”
“It is indeed.” He turned to Teal’c, and Dixon. “Welcome home, Teal’c. Colonel. I don’t know what to say.”
Dixon grinned. “Well, sir, due respect, you could say I’m dismissed to go find a telephone. I’d kind of like to call my wife.”
“I’ll bet you would,” said Hammond. “Colonel, you’re dismissed.” As Dixon withdrew, with alacrity, Hammond again looked at Teal’c, his expression sober. “Anything I say to you will sound… sadly inadequate. Nevertheless, I’d like to try. A little later, when things have settled down.”
Teal’c bowed. “Of course, General. At your convenience.”
He shook his head. “No, Teal’c. At yours. Now why don’t you head on to the infirmary? Doctor Fraiser and I will be along in a moment.”
“General,” said Teal’c, and left them alone.
“Well, Janet,” said Hammond. His tone was cool, his eyes warm. “In light of recent events, anything I say to you on the matter of orders, the following of, must surely smack of pots and black kettles.”
She cleared her throat. “Yes, sir. Sir — ”
He smiled. “Not now. You and I will be having a conversation, of course. But right now I expect you’d like to see how SG-1’s getting on. And then you’ll need to get that wrist taken care of.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, feeling her face heat.
“Lead the way, then,” he said. And added softly, as she turned, “By the way, Janet. Good work. Well done.”
“You too, sir,” she replied, not looking back. “You too. And thank you.”
The evening of their return to Earth, O’Neill sat in the infirmary with his team, minus Dixon. Not because he was still feeling hostile towards the man, but because this was a moment just for them, alone. Besides, the guy was glued to a phone catching up with his regular command. Or else he was lying, and still talking to his wife.
“So,” he said, lounging in a chair at Daniel’s bedside. “That was interesting, wouldn’t you say?”
Sitting opposite, with Daniel between them, Carter pulled a face. “I can think of a few other ways of putting it.”
She was looking herself again, thanks to the Tok’ra. No longer translucent. A long way from death. So was he, for that matter. Blisters cleared up, scabs scrubbed off. All his aches and pains a memory. Whatever was in that Tok’ra vaccine, it was pretty cool.
Damn. And now we owe them.
Except he wasn’t sorry, not really. Not with Carter sitting there grinning at him, brimful of life.
“All that matters,” said Daniel, sleepily, “is that we saved the Adjoans.”
He was still looking peaky. Exhausted. In pain, despite the morphine. A pity the Tok’ra couldn’t vaccinate him for the post-op blues.
“Hey,” O’Neill said, and nudged the bed with his knee. “When are you going to show me your scar?”
Daniel frowned. “I’m not.”
“Spoilsport.” He looked sideways. “So. Teal’c. You’re awfully quiet.”
Standing against the wall, Teal’c shrugged. “I have nothing to say, O’Neill.”
Maybe not. But I do. He cleared his throat. “Okay. Here’s the thing. I was wrong. You were right. And I apologize.”
“Yeah,” said Carter, her amusement swiftly fading. “Me too, Teal’c. I’m sorry… and thank you.”
Teal’c had come damn close to killing himself, to save them. Before she’d gone up to the base hospital to have her wrist set, at last, Janet had told them just how close a call it had been.
And what can I say about that? I don’t have the words.
But he could say this… “Seriously, Teal’c. I let you down. I made fun of your beliefs. I was a jackass. If anyone nearly got us killed, it was me.”
“Ah, no, sir,” said Carter, with a troubled glance at Teal’c. “I didn’t support him either. I’m just as much to blame here.”
“Don’t be greedy,” said Daniel, his eyelids at half-mast. “I’m the fairytale expert, remember? I’m sorry too, I should’ve — ”
“Be silent,” said Teal’c. His eyes were gleaming. “Your apologies are appreciated but unneccessary. We are in the business of risk, are we not?”
O’Neill exchanged another look with Carter. “Well, sure, but — ”
“Apportioning blame now is pointless,” said Teal’c, serene. “And despite the unpleasantness of the mission, a good outcome has been achieved. As you say here on Earth, let us count our blessings.”
He looked at Carter, restored to health. Looked at Daniel, minus his appendix but on the mend. Looked at his hands, no longer covered in blood-filled pustules. Took a deep breath, and felt his healed lungs fill with air. Looked at Teal’c, and smiled at him gently.
“Yeah. Okay. I guess I can do that.”
A nurse came and threw them out then, because Daniel needed his rest. The three of them walked to the elevator together. After so long on Adjo — God, it felt like a lifetime — there was something surreal about the grey concrete walls.
“You going home, sir?” said Carter.
He nodded. “Oh, yes. You?”
“Yeah…” she said slowly. “Only first I thought I might — ”
“What?” he prompted.
Her cheeks were pink. “You’ll think I’m an idiot.”
“Oh, I already think that,” he said, so innocent.
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir,” she said dryly. “I was going to say, I thought I might go up top for a while.”
He stared. “Up top? Of the mountain?”
“Yes, sir. As top as we can get, anyway.”
“Well… okay. Why?”
She shrugged. “Why not?”
He raised an eyebrow at Teal’c. “Good question.”
“Indeed.”
So they all went up top, all three of them. Sat on the wild grass and looked at the endless midnight blue sky, silent and brilliant and stitched with familiar constellations. Breathed in the cool air, the Earth air, the sweet air of home.
They counted three shooting stars… and called it a night.
The Adjo mission debrief was held at 1500 on the day after SG-1’s return. It went pretty much as Dixon expected: long, loud, and full of vigorous debate. The only player not present was Jackson, still stuck in the infirmary recovering from his ruptured appendix. He did tender a statement, however, which was read into evidence by O’Neill, with snarky asides.
When at last it appeared that all the arguments had been exhausted, Hammond summed up the official response from on high.
“Although several questionable decisions were taken, by more than one person now present at this table,” he said, “the President has decided that, on balance, the positive outcomes from this mission have outweighed the negatives. Therefore no action will be taken against you, Doctor Fraiser, for disobeying direct orders and exposing yourself to viral contamination while on Adjo. There will be a note made on your permanent military record, but the matter will end there.”
Fraiser, her broken wrist healed by the Tok’ra, nodded. “Yes, General. Thank you, sir.”
The look Hammond gave her was hard to read. Affection. Exasperation. Admiration. Awe. “In closing, Doctor, I’ll pass along something the President said to me, regarding your actions.”
Fraiser stiffened. “Sir?”
“He said, and I quote, ’Tell your damned doctor she’s spending too much time around Jack O’Neill.’”
“Yes, sir,” said Fraiser, and kept her eyes on her notes.
“What about you, General?” said O’Neill, ready for a fight. “Bottom line is you saved our butts. They better not be hammering you for going to the Tok’ra.” Not even a lingering trace of illness remained in him. He and Carter looked as healthy and refreshed as though they’d just come back from three weeks at a spa.
Man. Those Tok’ra are something else.
He was disappointed he hadn’t got
ten to catch up with Carter’s father, but Jacob was off at another secret location, causing some Goa’uld somewhere a world of grief.
Ah well. Maybe next time.
Hammond was frowning. “That would be between me and the President, Colonel.”
“But — ”
The tips of Carter’s fingers touched O’Neill’s arm. “Of course, General,” she said, as he subsided. “But we would like to say, for the record, how much we appreciate what you did for us. Risked for us. Colonel O’Neill’s right. We’d be dead right now if you hadn’t gone to my father and asked him for help. I know Washington’s not pleased with the deal you made, but — ”
Hammond snorted. “Washington has belatedly come to recognize that in giving the Tok’ra cautious access to such an unprecedented supply of naquadah we have — for the first time — put them a little in our debt,” he said, teeth bared in a sharkish smile. “What’s more, as a result of their pecuniary interest in the planet, they’ll be assisting us in figuring out how to decontaminate Adjo. All in all, it’s worked out quite well.”
“Even though Bhuiku’s only agreed to grant us conditional access to Mennufer’s naquadah mine?” said Carter.
“Washington is confident his position will soften, sooner rather than later.”
“Don’t bet on it,” said O’Neill. “That kid’s not stupid. He knows not to give too much too fast. And he’ll have the rest of Adjo’s village leaders singing the same tune inside a month. Good kid.” He pulled a face. “It just sucks we couldn’t save Lotar for him. I wish — ”
He glared at the desk. There was a moment’s silence. A chill of sorrow. Dixon felt the ache of grief, renewed. Saw it echoed in O’Neill’s set face.
Yeah, Jack. Don’t we all.
“I’ll need your completed mission reports by 1500 tomorrow, SG-1,” said Hammond, eventually. “After that you’re on two weeks’ leave. It’s overdue, and well-earned.”
The team exchanged pleased, relieved glances. “Thank you, sir,” O’Neill said quietly.
“People…” Hammond sat back. “That concludes our debrief of the Adjo mission. It turned out to be one hell of a ride, but you know what they say: any landing you can walk away from is a good one. You’re dismissed. Ah — except for you, Colonel Dixon. I’d like a word.”
As the others filed out of the briefing room, Dixon stood behind his chair.
“Your wife was pleased to hear from you, I take it?” said Hammond.
Pleased was an understatement. They’d both bawled like babies. “Yes, sir.”
Hammond smiled. “Good. Colonel, I’ve sent a separate report to General McCreary, regarding your contributions to the Adjo mission. But I’d like to say in person how impressed I am with what you achieved in your short time with us. Doctor Fraiser is adamant you saved Jackson’s life.” He shook his head, sighing. “You know, in the three years this base has been active I can only think of two other missions that come close to this one, in terms of threat level and complications.”
“Actually, General,” he said, grinning, “I’d say three. And strangely enough they all involved SG-1.”
“Three? Well, you could be right,” said Hammond. “But be that as it may, Colonel… I want you to know this. If ever you’re looking for a change of scenery there’s a locker with your name on it at the SGC. All you have to do is ask.”
He sucked in a deep breath. Let it out with care. “Sir, I am flattered. And I’ll give your offer due consideration, I promise. For now, let me say it’s been an honor and a privilege serving under you. And if things fall out that way I’d be proud to do it again.”
He saluted. Hammond saluted him back.
And then it was time to say his goodbyes.
Fraiser first, typing medical notes in her infirmary office. She looked up as he tapped on the door. Smiled. “Colonel Dixon. You’re leaving?”
He nodded. “Yup.”
“You pleased?”
“Ecstatic.”
“Really?” She pretended to pout. “Gee. Hurt a doctor’s feelings, why don’t you?”
“Nah, not really,” he said, relenting. “It’s been… Chinese.”
He watched her work that one out, and grin when the penny dropped. “Yes, indeed,” she murmured. “Around this place we live in very interesting times.” She stood and held her hand out. “So, goodbye, then, sir. Doctor to doctor.”
Instead of shaking her offered hand, he kissed it. “You’re awesome, Janet. You’re one of a kind.”
She grinned. “I’m pretty sure the same can be said of you, Dave. Be good to yourself. Enjoy being a dad. Send us a photo when the baby’s born.”
“I will,” he said, touched. “How’s Jackson doing? Is he up for a visit?”
“A quick one. He’s still pretty run down.” She spread her fingers. “Five minutes. That’s all.”
But when he found Jackson, the guy was sleeping. He didn’t have the heart to wake him up, so he scrawled a note and left it propped on the nightstand by the bed. Sorry I wasn’t Martha Stewart with a needle, Daniel. Call me when you’re back on your feet. I’ll take you to dinner.
He found Carter in her lab, playing with the first naquadah samples they’d sent back from Adjo. Area 51 had refined them, and she was dancing like a little girl. When she saw him her face lit up in that glorious smile.
“Hey. Colonel Dixon.”
“Major Carter. Having fun?”
The smile widened. “You’d better believe it.” She shoved her hands in her pockets. “So. You’re going home?”
“Fast as my little transport flight can carry me.”
She nodded. “You’ll be missed, sir. We owe you, big time.”
“Enough for you to call me Dave? Now we’re not in a chain of command?”
She laughed. “Yeah. Okay. Dave.”
“And if I hug you goodbye, Sam, are you going to report me for conduct unbecoming?”
Her answering smile slipped, and suddenly her eyes were full of tears. “I’d report you if you didn’t,” she said, and stepped into his embrace. “Thank you, sir.”
He nearly missed Teal’c, heading offworld to his family. The wormhole was engaged and shimmering and he was half-way up the ramp.
“Colonel Dixon,” he said, turning back, and fisted one hand against his heart. “You are a worthy warrior of the Tauri. I would go into battle with you again without hesitation.”
Dixon nodded, and returned the Jaffa’s salute. “Back atcha, Teal’c. If I have a son I hope he’s half the man you are.”
Teal’c smiled. Nodded. And stepped through the Stargate. Dixon watched until the wormhole collapsed, then turned round.
O’Neill was standing in the control room, just to the left of the gate technician.
Okay, then. A case of last but not least.
By the time he reached the top of the spiral staircase, Sergeant Harriman had disappeared. It was just him and O’Neill and the looming gray Stargate on the other side of the glass. Dixon drifted over to stand, not beside him, but near by. Shoved his hands in his pockets. Stared at the gate.
It had killed Frank Cromwell. Indirectly it had nearly killed him, or at the least come perilously close to getting him stranded on the other side of the galaxy. And yet it looked so peaceful. So harmless. Just a big metal ring.
Sure. Turn it on. Hell, what could go wrong?
Beside him, O’Neill rocked a little on his heels. “So. Hammond offered you a full-time gig here?”
He slid his gaze sideways and swiftly back again. “Yeah. But don’t worry. I said thanks, but no thanks.”
O’Neill shrugged. “Pity. I asked him to offer it.”
“Yeah, right,” he scoffed, without thinking. Then turned his head to stare. O’Neill wasn’t joking. What the hell? “Why?”
Another shrug. “Why not?”
There were so many reasons, they all tangled on his tongue.
O’Neill sighed. Shook his head. “You handled yourself like a pro, Dave. You saw the m
ission through. And… you took care of my team.”
He looked at O’Neill, and O’Neill looked back. No mask. No armor. Naked honesty. Simple truth.
His turn to sigh. “You’re never going to talk to me about Frank, are you?”
“Nope,” said O’Neill.
He was surprised, then, to realize it no longer mattered. Or didn’t matter so much. Or mattered in a different way. Maybe because the others had spoken for O’Neill, whether they meant to or not. Or maybe because O’Neill had spoken for himself… not with words, but with actions.
I’ll just have to hope, Frank. I’ll just have to believe that before you died you got the absolution you needed. And who knows, my friend… maybe one day I’ll get this stubborn bastard to change his mind, and we’ll drink a toast to you. I believe in miracles, now.
He grinned. “Well, Jack, I got me a plane to catch. So long. Take care of yourself. And don’t think I’ve forgotten I owe you a zat blast.”
He walked away then, without looking back. Slowly. Comfortably. Knowing that one day, some day, they’d see him again.
And you know what, Frank? I think I’m looking forward to it.
About the author
Karen Miller is an Australian speculative fiction writer. Her mainstream fantasy titles include the Kingmaker, Kingbreaker duology (#1 debut in the UK 2007) and the Godspeaker trilogy, releasing in the US and UK in April 2008. Her first Stargate novel was STARGATE SG-1: Alliances. Her website is: www.karenmiller.net.
THE ADVENTURES CONTINUE....
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