Act II
The dark cinderblock room, lit only by a small window near the ceiling, took the general by surprise. Frowning, he looked around. "This looks like a prison."
"Got it in one, my general." Urgo replied.
The lights came on suddenly and Hammond realized he was in a small conference room, used for interrogations or attorney's visits, but not much else. The metal table in the center of the room could have been surplus from World War II. The chairs with their faded orange and brown upholstery were obvious relics from the '70s, but totally out of place in a military establishment. Before he could ask any more questions, the door opened and a guard entered, did a quick visual search of the room, and motioned for someone to enter. A middle-aged man, in civilian clothes, but with a military bearing, moved into the room, glanced around, and nodded. "This will do. Bring him. Now."
The guard left quickly and the man casually took a seat facing the door. He opened his briefcase and removed a folder. As he did so, his face was now fully revealed to Hammond, who snarled. "Colonel Simmons! What has he got to do with my people?"
"Not people, General. Just Jack."
Hammond's reply died on his lips as the door swung open once more, revealing Jack O'Neill in prison garb.
"Ah, Colonel O'Neill. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Your record is most impressive."
"That's 'was most impressive,' I'm retired." O'Neill replied quietly. "Who are you?"
"Colonel Frank Simmons, retired, now special attaché to, uh, never mind that."
"What do you want?"
Simmons shrugged. "To talk." He motioned to a chair at the table near him. "Have a seat."
O'Neill eyed the 'civilian' suspiciously before sinking slowly into a chair as far from the other man as possible.
Simmons barely contained a frown. "As you wish." He paused for a few moments, then went on. "You're in serious trouble, Colonel."
O'Neill sat silently, neither acknowledging nor ignoring the other man.
"The Stargate project is highly classified."
"No! Really?"
"Sarcasm does not become you, Jack - may I call you Jack?"
"It's all I have left, and no, you may not."
"I see. Well, as you wish."
"I'm asking you again, what do you want?"
"All right, Colonel, I'll spell it out simply." Simmons voice took on a note of steel and he glanced down at the paperwork in front of him. "As I said earlier, the Stargate project is highly classified and the charges against you are serious. Let's see, dereliction of duty, conduct unbecoming an officer, insubordination, quite an impressive array of charges."
"I do my best."
"Right. Did you do your best on Abydos?" Simmons growled.
"Of course."
"I don't think so, Colonel. Your actions left this nation, hell, this planet vulnerable to an unknown enemy!"
"Ra is dead. We, I killed him!"
Simmons casually replaced the folder and its contents into his briefcase. "Is that so? Might I remind you that four solders are dead and one is missing from the SGC facility! The monitors revealed the presence of an entity garbed quite similarly to your Ra."
"I was already told this at the SGC, just before being formally arrested for those charges you mentioned earlier. I'll tell you this again. Ra is dead. He could not possibly have survived. Whoever your invader is, it wasn't Ra."
"It's a pity that a man with your security clearance is so blind."
Jack shrugged, but his eyes betrayed his annoyance, and confusion.
"Allow me to explain. Cooperation will buy you leniency. It's as simple as that. You tell all you know--"
"I have told all I know." Jack cried out in frustration.
"I seriously doubt that, Colonel O'Neill." He cleared his throat and continued. "The Stargate program is, as you know, classified SCI… you do know that, don't you?" It was Simmons' turn to be sarcastic.
"SCI - Secret Compartmentalized Information, make that TOP Secret Compartmentalized Information."
Simmons applauded, then rose to his feet. "You can expect to be tried by a secret tribunal, and when you're found guilty, and you will be found guilty, they will lock you up and throw away the key."
"My God, Simmons was in the background from the beginning." Hammond was horrified.
Urgo looked equally surprised. "You mean you didn't know or at least suspect?"
"No!"
"Pulease! You have got to be kidding me! It should have been obvious all along that someone at the top wanted this program to take on an entirely different tack. The signs were all around you!"
"What signs?" Hammond asked irritably.
"Lotsa signs."
"What signs exactly?"
"Well, well, all right, I have one for you - the way Jack was called back to the SGC." Urgo looked inordinately pleased with himself.
"You mean after Apophis came through the 'gate, killed the guards and kidnapped the lone woman among them?"
"Well, yes." Urgo was slightly nonplussed.
"What else?"
"Well, there was, uh, no not that. How about, no, that doesn't count. I know there's…"
"Just as I thought, there weren't any signs. I wish to the heavens there had been."
"There were too signs." Urgo responded petulantly. "I just can't think of any right now."
"I see." Hammond responded, a touch of malice in his tones.
"I thought you wanted to find out about Jack?"
Jack O'Neill sat alone in his cell, bouncing a small round ball against a wall. The pencil marks near the window showed that he'd seen twenty-seven sunrises since he'd been rousted back to the SGC. Not all, of course, had been spent in this god-forsaken location somewhere in the middle of nowhere. The middle of a very cold nowhere, too. The early morning chill had lessoned somewhat as the antiquated furnace groaned its way up to full capacity, but the fact remained that this prison was somewhere very, very cold. Probably Alaska. Jack thought idly, although he couldn't be certain - the solitary window was much too high for him to reach, even standing on his cot.
Footsteps in the hall caused him to temporarily stop bouncing the ball. Two sets - one belonging to the day guard, the other, an unknown quantity. He'd find out soon enough who the newcomer was, so he resumed the rhythmic noise that had been his sole companion of late.
"Visitor, O'Neill." The guard spoke quietly as he unlocked the door and motioned the other man to enter. "I advised him against meeting in here, but he insisted." Turning to the Lieutenant Colonel who'd entered the cell, the guard said, "I'll be just down the hall if you need me, sir."
O'Neill watched the stranger suspiciously as the guard vanished. "I could break your neck before you called out."
"What good would that do?"
"None. None at all." The colonel admitted quietly.
"Then why bother?" When O'Neill failed to respond, the man continued. "I'm Lee Richards. Your attorney."
Jack looked up surprised. "My attorney?"
"Yes. You didn't think you'd get one?"
"Not really. I figured this was my final destination."
The other man nodded in understanding. "It might yet be, but I'll do my best to defend you, provided you're straight with me."
The colonel frowned. "I can't tell you anything."
"Why do you think it took so long to start your trial? They wanted this done by the book, and needed judges and lawyers who had, or could get, the appropriate security clearances."
"How do I know that?" Jack asked calmly.
"My credentials--"
"Could be faked."
"You could trust me."
"Not a snowball's chance in hell, you're a lawyer."
"You don't like lawyers, do you, Colonel?"
"Nope, they're almost as bad as scientists and no, I don't trust them either."
"You trusted Doctor Daniel Jackson on the first mission through the 'gate." Jack looked up in surprise as Richards continued. "Yes, I know about that. Told you I had clearance. Now, about Daniel Jackson--"
"Yes, I trusted him, but he died over a year ago on Abydos. I had to leave his body behind, along with several of my men."
"I'm sorry."
"So was I. No one should be left behind."
"Tell you what, Colonel, let's cut out the sparring and get down to preparing your defense. I really am trying to help you."
Jack O'Neill stared into earnest blue eyes, nodded, and put away the ball. It was time to start fighting again.
"He lost, didn't he?" Hammond asked sadly.
"We have to watch the trial to find that out." Urgo replied.
"Bull shit, mister, I know a railroad job when I see one."
The remark confused the alien completely. "Railroad? What do trains have to do with this?"
"No, I mean a frame."
"Actually, he was technically guilty--"
"And I'm sure the tribunal would have no problem finding him guilty. Being able to keep a wild card like Jack O'Neill silent would be a necessity once he refused their generous offer - at least I assume it was generous - to come over to play on their team."
"Well, at the trial, his attorney did an outstanding job of--"
"He lost, didn't he?"
"We should really watch the trial."
"He lost, didn't he?"
"Yes." Urgo responded sadly.
"Fine. Then show me Daniel Jackson."
"I can't."
"Why not?" Hammond bit back his angry words.
"We're not finished here yet."
"Then. Get. On. With. It."
"Uh, right. Get on with it. I can do that."
Once again fate found Jack O'Neill sitting alone in a cell, bouncing a small round ball against a wall. Only this time the cell was one of a block of many cells, each with at least one occupant. From the marks on the wall, he'd seen almost ninety days in this location. Security concerns prevented him from having a cellmate, just as he was prohibited from contact with other prisoners on his twice-daily exercise periods. He ignored the footsteps in the hall as they drew near to his … home. It wasn't time to walk the yard, and breakfast, if it could be called that, had been served less than two hours before. The footsteps came to a sudden stop in front of his door. "Got your good clothes on, O'Neill?"
Jack cast a sideways glance at the door, and continued to bounce his ball.
"I asked you a question, O'Neill."
Jack shrugged. "And I didn't answer it."
"Looks to me like you don't want to know why I'm here." The guard smirked knowingly, taking no small delight in taunting the prisoner.
The ball hit the wall one more time.
"Stop that!"
The ball bounced off the wall, then rolled under the bunk as the keys jangled in the cell door. "What do you want?" Jack asked nonchalantly as the guard entered the cell.
"You got a visitor in the meeting room."
Jack frowned. There were only two, uh, three friends who had the security clearance to visit unfettered; even Sarah had been denied unsupervised visitation. They'd chitchatted for thirty minutes by means of a phone, separated by a wall and a sheet of bulletproof glass. The only friendlies with access to the meeting room were Ferretti, Kawalski and his attorney; at least he assumed he could count his attorney as friendly. He rose slowly, cursing under his breath. He'd told - no, ordered, Ferretti and Kawalski not to come to the prison. Personal contact with him would severely damage what was left of their careers. Technically, the weekly letters from the pair could be held against them by malicious superiors, but Jack hadn't been able to bring himself to stop them and somehow he knew that one or both of them were at the end of the hall. Casually following the guard down the corridor, Jack recited the speech he would give whichever of his well-meaning but misguided friends had come when they were alone. The guard opened the door to the meeting room, and motioned the prisoner inside. Jack kept his emotions well hidden until the door closed, but the speech he'd planned never materialized. To his consternation he heard himself say, "Ferretti! It's good to see you."
Ferretti smiled broadly and moved to shake Jack's hand. After a short moment, he pulled the older man into a hug. "It's good to see you, too, sir." Pushing back, he frowned as he studied his former commander. "You're looking pale."
Jack shrugged. "Not too many places to get a tan here."
"I'm sure…" Ferretti hesitated, giving Jack time to interrupt.
"Hey, I really appreciate all the work you and Kawalski have done trying to get me pardoned."
Ferretti looked surprised. "How did--"
"Richards, my attorney, you remember him?" Jack elaborated as Ferretti's confusion lifted. "He told me about the letter campaign, and how you're bugging the heck out of anyone who'll listen."
"Oh, well--"
"Look, I do appreciate it, but you two have got to protect yourselves. Just last week Kawalsky sent me--"
"Sir!" Ferretti's look of pain took Jack by surprise.
"What's wrong?"
"Kawalski's dead, Colonel."
Jack sank into a chair. "What? How?"
"Motorcycle accident." Ferretti spoke softly.
"How did it happen?"
"He lost control and skidded under a van."
Jack fought back tears as he studied his feet. Looking back at his friend, Jack asked, "What aren't you telling me?"
"Nothing, I told you everything." Ferretti had the grace to blush under Jack's penetrating stare. "Guess I could never put anything over on you, could I, sir?"
"No. Now spill."
"He, uh, sir, he was very upset that his last attempt at getting you a new hearing failed. He took off from the courthouse at a high rate of speed. A group of kids started crossing the road, and he swerved to avoid them, lost control and he and the bike slid under the van."
"But the kids weren't hurt." It was not a question.
"No, sir. Not a scratch."
Jack sat silently for a few moments then slammed a fist onto the table. "Dammit to hell, Ferretti, I'm not worth his life. I'm not worth anyone's life."
"Sir, Abydos was not your fault."
"We're not talking about Abydos." Jack snapped angrily.
"Aren't we?" Ferretti held his ground.
Sighing heavily, Jack replied, "Whatever. But listen to me. Please, please stop trying to help me. It won't work."
"Sir, I'm not giving up. I'll find a way to get you out." Ferretti's words touched Jack deeply, but the older man shook his head.
"No. No, you won't, Louis."
"We don't leave anyone behind, sir!"
"Sometimes we do." Jack whispered, then raised his voice. "You listen to me. The fix is in, so to speak, and they'll never let me go. Alive that is."
"That won't happen, sir, I won't--"
"You'll do nothing, Major." Jack said severely, but his tone quickly softened. "I'm beyond help, Louis. I've screwed up everything I've ever touched. My career, my marriage, my child." His last words were barely a whisper. Shaking his head suddenly his voice rose again. "But you've got a chance for a real life. Make the most of it. And Louis?"
"What sir, uh, Jack?"
"Don't come back." Holding up a hand to forestall his friend's protest, Jack continued. "For your own sake, don't come back." Turning his back on his friend, he called out. "Guard! I'm ready to leave." Without looking back he hastily left the room, his thoughts whirling as he preceded the guard down the hall. Abydos. If he'd followed his orders to begin with… Ra would still be alive. Why didn't someone, anyone see that? But he'd chosen to blow Ra to hell, and leave Daniel Jackson behind. Had that been one mistake, or two?
Hammond stood by helplessly as Jack O'Neill, aka prisoner 1969, was led back toward his solitary cell. The truth of the situation hit him like a ton of bricks - Kawalski was dead in this reality, too. Ferretti would never rise above the rank of major, memories run long in certain military circles. And Jack O'Neill, God, Jack, was serving a life without parole sentence for his 'crimes'. Staring pityingly at the good man he'd once called friend, the general asked quietly, "But what of Abydos? What of Doctor Jackson?"
