And there is was again, that word: team. The natural thing would have been to give SG-1 time to strengthen their connection again, to rebuild their bonds as a unit. But circumstance hadn’t allowed for that. There was the other mission to be considered now, the one only he, Jack and a handful of others knew about.
“One of our own, sir?” Jack had been dubious when Hammond had first informed him about the Tollan and Asgard suspicions.
“I know what’s going through your head, Colonel,” Hammond had replied. “I daresay they’re the same thoughts I had when I met with High Chancellor Travell and Thor. It’s hard to accept that someone you work with day in and day out could be a traitor.”
“General, you’re not saying that you think one of SG-1–”
“Not for a second, Jack. But there are other teams out there. Nearly all of them have had the opportunity to commit the crimes we’re talking about here, and as much as it sickens me to accept it, one of our own is responsible.”
Jack had shifted in his chair, as if he knew what was coming. “So I’m here because… ?”
“We need someone on the inside for this. Both the Tollan and the Asgard have requested you, and I can’t say I question their judgment on that.”
Jack had nodded slowly, his gaze flicking around the room, not agreeing as such, just considering. He, of all people, knew what it meant to go undercover. He knew that it meant changing who you were, that it meant lies and deceit for those closest to you. “Me,” he’d finally said. “Just me.”
“Yes. Just you.”
“And what am I supposed to tell them, sir?”
No need to ask who he meant by ‘them’. “No one can know, Jack. Not even your team. The future of the planet depends on the success of this mission.”
“They won’t believe it,” he’d objected. “They won’t believe I’d jeopardize our alliances just to get my hands on some alien gadgets. They know me better than that.”
“It’s not going to be easy, Jack, but you’ll have to convince them.”
O’Neill had shaken his head, looking unhappy. “Convince them that I’d walk away from the SGC? That I’d team up with Maybourne? How? How can I make them believe that without completely destroying their trust in me?”
There’d been a moment then when Jack had just stared, a slow and horrible realization dawning. Then his eyes had closed, his shoulders rising and falling with a deep breath. When he’d opened his eyes again, he’d already looked fractured.
“Whatever you need to do,” Hammond had tried to assure him, “they’ll understand.” There was a moment’s pause before he’d added, “I’m not making this an order, Colonel.”
Jack had given a hollow laugh at that, raising his eyebrows, and Hammond had smiled ruefully in response. They’d both known he had no choice.
So Hammond had watched as O’Neill began his role in earnest, wedging a chisel into the cracks between himself and SG-1, cracks which had only just begun to heal, and widening them a little bit further every day. Destroying their trust in him.
And now he watched the silent gate, wondering where they were and what was happening to them, and he knew that O’Neill would still be working on those cracks. He could only hope that SG-1 wouldn’t break apart completely before they came home.
CHAPTER THREE
Stop the bleeding. That was the first priority. Everything else could wait.
“Daniel?” Jack tapped his face and got a vague response, but Daniel’s skin was clammy and cold and his pulse was thready. He was going into shock.
Working fast, Jack pulled away the sodden dressing and mopped out as much blood as he could from the wound. He could sense Carter hovering behind him and Teal’c further out, securing their position, but he had no spare attention for either. He grabbed the packet of FastClot from the med kit, tore it open and started pouring the granules into the wound until the blood was absorbed and not leaking to the surface. Packing the wound with more gauze, he reached for a pressure bandage. “Carter,” he barked, “give me a hand with this.”
Without a word, she took the bandage from him and started winding it around Daniel’s abdomen while Jack kept the pressure on the dressing. When she was done she tied it off nice and tight and sat back on her heels. “That’s the hemostatic agent they reverse engineered from the stuff SG-3 found on P3M-453,” she said after a moment, nodding toward the FastClot. “I’ve never seen it used in the field before.”
He peeled off the latex gloves and dropped them onto the ashy ground. “Your lucky day then, Major.”