The Tollan Curia required an update on the SGC’s investigation into the theft of allied technology, and the only news he had to give High Chancellor Travell was bad. Both races — Tollan and Asgard — had made it clear that their relationship with Earth was contingent on O’Neill uncovering Maybourne’s mole within the SGC. How they might react to the colonel’s disappearance was a question Hammond feared to answer.
Would they suspect SG-1 of complicity? Nonsense, of course, but the whole debacle had already damaged their trust in Stargate Command. And what if, God forbid, O’Neill didn’t return at all? Would that mark the end of Earth’s relationship with their allies? That prospect frightened him and he wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Without their allies, they were extremely vulnerable.
The thought made him antsy and Hammond got up from his desk to pace over to the window that separated his office from the briefing room. He could just make out the arc of the Stargate in the gate room below, still and silent. Waiting, like the rest of them.
He didn’t enjoy thinking about worst case scenarios, but in this job it came with the territory and he didn’t shy away from it. If O’Neill didn’t make it back, then Earth was in trouble. Period. And he took some of the responsibility for that himself. One man should not have been allowed to become so critical to the fate of the planet. And their alliances should not — could not — rest entirely on the shoulders of Colonel Jack O’Neill. More than that, the security of Earth could not depend entirely on those fragile alliances. It was untenable and it was something he was determined to change, no matter what had become of SG-1.
Struck by a thought, he walked over to the bookcase behind his desk, scanned the narrow spines, and pulled out a report. It was a proposal for a permanent off-world Alpha Site that would provide both operational support for the SGC’s front line teams and a refuge of last resort in the event of enemy incursion. He flicked through the pages, reminding himself of the detail. O’Neill had written it over a year ago and it was a damn good piece of work that spelled out, in O’Neill’s pithy style, the strategic and tactical necessity for a permanent off-world base. Hammond had been happy to sign off on it and to start the preliminary work on establishing the Alpha Site. They’d even got so far as locating a suitable planet and starting to consider personnel. Hammond had been minded to give O’Neill the command. He was more than ready for the challenge and Hammond had suspected that the colonel wouldn’t be averse to a slight sidestep in chain of command.
But then the Pentagon had pulled the plug — for budgetary reasons — and the whole thing had been shelved.
It was difficult for men like him and O’Neill not to feel undermined by those kinds of decisions, made as they were by people so far away from the sharp end that they couldn’t even begin to see the point. But that point was getting clearer to him by the day and he was under no illusion what it would mean for Earth if their relationship with their allies broke down, most especially with the Asgard. The truth was, without the Protected Planets Treaty, Earth was a sitting duck in a vast and hostile pond.
They’d grown complacent, Hammond realized. They’d relied too heavily on the protection of the Asgard and too deeply on O’Neill’s ability to garner their trust. Now, with both those struts weakening, the whole edifice of Earth’s security was teetering on the brink of collapse. And they had no Plan B.
“General?” Captain Austen popped his head around the door, making Hammond jump.
“Son, I thought you’d gone home hours ago.”
“No, sir,” Austen said. “Just catching up on some email, but I was about to leave if there’s nothing else?”
“No, there’s nothing else. Get yourself home.”
The captain nodded, then said, “Ah, General, don’t forget that High Chancellor Travell is expecting you to contact her tonight.” He glanced at his watch. “The working day on Tollana starts at 0330 hours, mountain time, sir.”
“Thank you, Captain,” he said, repressing a smile. Keen as mustard, this one. “I’ll be sure to contact the High Chancellor before I leave.” Not that he was planning on leaving. Not that he knew what to tell her.
“Yes, sir,” the captain said. “Major Lee is on duty in the control room tonight, sir. I’ve briefed him.”
“Sounds like everything’s in hand, Captain. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
When Austen had pulled the door shut behind him, Hammond sank back into his chair to think. He had to talk to Travell, of course, and he’d have to do it in person; this wasn’t a conversation he could have in the middle of the control room. But he didn’t want to travel to Tollana alone — he needed backup, someone else in his camp. But with SG-1 missing, who else could he bring? More importantly, who else could he trust? Someone inside the SGC was Maybourne’s mole.