The Matchmaker by Cjay

Chapter Two: Operation Checkmate

Colonel Jack O'Neill arrived at the mountain bright and early Monday morning, rested and in good spirits. Whistling softly, he rode the elevator down into the bowels of the SGC and stopped briefly in the commissary for a cup of coffee. Scanning the dining area for his friendly foe and finding it basically deserted; he headed for his office. Except for the usual SF on guard duty, the corridor outside his office was empty this morning as well. Nodding slightly to the eager young airman, Jack warily unlocked the door and flipped on the lights. He fully expected some sort of booby trap, or gag, to have been placed there by his own personal substitute kid brother, the ever-eager to bedevil him, Daniel Jackson. Scanning the small space, he was a bit surprised to find nothing amiss.

'Well, this is odd. It's not like Daniel to hold back this long.' By now his friend, the reformed geek and Jack's avid pupil, had usually, at the very least, dropped some smart comment or sight gag, hoping to rattle Jack's cage. After all, he'd had a master to teach him the fine art of razzing, one Jack O'Neill.

Never one to be lulled into a false sense of security, he knew he'd have to keep his guard up. Danny would eventually show his hand. Jack's dalliance in the wonderful world of the matchmaker was just too ripe a plum for the archeologist to pass up. Once the cat had been let out of the bag and Daniel had been made privy to Jack's covert machinations, he'd waited for the proverbial shoe to drop, but as yet, it hadn't. Now a week later, he'd heard nothing from the younger man and frankly, he was a bit disappointed.

Actually, Jack was bored. Nothing of interest had happened lately. His team, SG-1, had been on light duty for several weeks now and Jack, ever the antsy man of action, was having difficulty channeling his innate energies.

He'd been testing and training candidates for a few open positions on several of the SG teams for the last week. While this duty was somewhat challenging, it was not taxing, and he found himself wishing for a distraction of some kind. Even if that distraction involved one of Daniel's lame, yet good-natured attempts to top his own expertise in the role of jocular tormentor.

Intending to check his morning memos and e-mail, Jack set his coffee cup on a napkin and fired up his laptop computer. As his messages began to pop up on the screen, he sipped the hot brew and leaned back in his chair stretching a bit. One by one he read and addressed the memos and alerts listed, his boredom growing with each passing second. That is, until he received an e-mail marked urgent.

The sender, one "spurned troglodyte," was unfamiliar, as was the Internet address: 4lorn. It read:

Dear agent of the lovelorn; I am pining for companionship of an affectionate nature. Thought perhaps, your expertise appropriate for my needs. Please advise ASAP.

Smirking, Jack had to applaud Danny's method of torture this time. Unlike Joshua at the battle of Jericho, Danny boy was mounting a much more silent form of siege, subtle, yet right to the point. Instead of tumbling down a few walls, he was hoping to quietly yank Jack's chain.

Moaning, Jack realized that his thoughts had been running wildly down a manure littered path of clichés and similes! GAD! Danny boy was so going to pay!

Clicking the search feature on his computer menu, Jack set out to teach Daniel a lesson.

***

Jack was once again up bright and early, waiting for his generally punctual paperboy. The youngster, his neighbor Bud Drake's son, was unusually responsible for his age. He'd a knack for knowing when the Colonel was in residence and made his home first on his route so his hero, Jack, could read the latest hockey scores along with his morning coffee. Noting Tommy's arrival, Jack stepped out on the front porch of his abode. Tommy grasped the thick bundle and pitched it smartly. Seeing his paper sailing neatly through the air, Jack nimbly caught it with a smile and a wave. Tommy graced him with a smart salute and proceeded to bike his way up the street.

Jack watched the kid pedal along throwing his papers with surprising accuracy and wondered if the child still dreamed of joining the Air Force when he grew up. Tommy reminded him of another eager child he'd once known and loved. Squelching the sudden rise of melancholy such thoughts generally awakened, he returned to the kitchen and poured himself a nice mug of java. Pulling up a chair, he sat at the table eating his morning fruit loops and scanning the singles column. Eureka! There it was. The advertisement he hoped would factor into his latest diversion, "operation checkmate." He'd placed various versions of the advert in several papers as well as on the Internet. This one read:

Highly intelligent, blue eyed, attractive, buff, former geek and Mercury Ham in mid-thirties with government job, seeks companion for intimate liaison. Apply ASAP via Internet or send letter and recent photograph to Dr. H. Mercury Troglodyte, 222 Mason Street, Apartment 4B, Colorado Springs, Colorado.

'Yup, this'll do,' he thought. The insistent pealing of his cell phone prevented his further perusal. "O'Neill."

"Morning, Sir." The sunny voice of his second stated perkily.

Sitting up a bit straighter, Jack wondered what could be so urgent that Carter would be phoning him at the butt crack of dawn. "Carter?"

Hearing the suspicion and concern in his voice, Sam came right to her point. "Ah Sir, do you remember our conversation regarding a wager?"

Relieved Jack smiled, 'this could be fun!' Assuming his most vacuous attitude he queried. "Wager, Carter?"

'Oh no, could he really have forgotten?' Sam wondered. "Remember Sir. I was finishing yesterday's crossword in the commissary and you asked me what could be so intriguing that I failed to listen to your latest joke?"

'Sweet! Here it comes, the challenge. He was so going to get a few chuckles out of this one!' Groaning loudly, he conceded. "Oh, that wager."

"Yes Sir, the wager we made over today's crossword, Sir." Sam replied cannily suppressing a laugh. "Do you have the morning Herald Sir?"

Jack located the crossword challenge for the day and refolded the newsprint. Today's topic had escalated to nuclear physics. 'Me and my big mouth!' "Ah Carter, don'tcha think you've got an unfair advantage here?"

"As I recall you said any crossword, Sir. And I quote: 'Carter, any simpleton can do a crossword puzzle.'" At the time, she'd understood all too well that he'd just been more than a bit exasperated that one of his best wisecracks had gone unappreciated by his second in command. Now he was so going to pay.

Amused, Jack feigned petulance. "Fine! The bet is on!"

Feeling a bit as if she was taking candy from a baby, Sam hesitated. "Are you sure Sir?"

Smirking, Jack noted her tone with satisfaction. "A bet is a bet Carter. I will have the whole shebang completed for your viewing pleasure upon my arrival at the SGC."

"If you need more time Sir...?" Sam was feeling guilty. After all, nuclear physics was not the T.V. guide crossword puzzle.

"See ya soon Carter." Jack hung up the phone and briskly ripped the puzzle free of the rest of the paper. With operation checkmate now in full swing, he was free to engage the Major in one of his favorite pastimes - mind games. At least he was getting a bit of attention from her once again.

A nice hot steamy shower had cleared the last of the cobwebs from his head. Jack wiped the misty residue from his mirror as he studied the crossword puzzle he'd taped beside his unshaven reflection.

Lathering his cheeks, he studied the now crinkled newsprint.

This was not going to be easy, the answers kept popping into his head willy-nilly and finding inane substitutes was proving a bit harder than he would have at first thought; maintaining his dense façade was an art form after all. In order to really yank her chain and keep Carter off balance, he'd have to add one or two correct answers. Otherwise, she'd think he never listened to her at all and he didn't want to bruise her delicate ego.

O.K. O'Neill, number seven across asks for: "a five-letter word invented by Joyce in his work Finnegan's Wake, circa 1939." Gad! That is just too easy! A quark... lets see...'It's also a type of European cheese. Alright, got it! Clutching his pencil stub in his foam covered fingers, Jack scribbled in the word curds. Consumed with the next question, he shaved his face a bit roughly and nicked a place just under his nose; annoyed he grabbed his once again jingling cell phone. "O'Neill."

"Jack!"

Great! Daniel's voice had that 'I'm excited, where are you when I need you,' tone. "Daniel?" Half listening, he continued to shave and gaze at the puzzle. Number eight across; stable elementary particle with a positive electric charge? Ah, proton. Penciling the answer in awkwardly, Jack vaguely heard the words SG-2, colonnade, Ancients' library of knowledge and P3X-429. The word Ancients registered. Warning bells began pealing in his cerebrum, drawing his attention back to Daniel's voice.

Listening more attentively it became obvious old Danny boy wanted to make an immediate trip to P3X-429, an idea, which Jack O'Neill wasn't too keen on. Last time he'd tangled with a so-called repository of knowledge, he'd almost gone totally gaga and died. If not for the intervention of his little pals the Asgard, he'd be singing with the angels right now! Did Daniel learn nothing from that little fiasco? CRAP! "Daniel I'll be there in half an hour." Shutting his mind down, he rinsed both his cell phone and razor, in the water he'd left standing idly in the sink's basin. About to end the call, he had a flash of twisted genius.

Soliciting Daniel's help with one of the more abstract questions from the puzzle, he ignored the correct response and shut the phone off. Then continued with his ablutions, knowing full well that Danny would slyly inform Carter that he'd asked for help.

Riding the elevator down toward the level of the briefing room, Jack continued to fiddle with the crossword puzzle. An airman leaned over and shook his head as he added another idiotic answer. Jack gave him an affronted frown and stared the man down, effectively preventing the fellow from venturing the correct answer.

As he'd expected, the elevator opened slowly and Jack took in the irate presence of the remainder of SG-1. Pressing his lips together in order to prevent a smile, he pretended innocence as Carter snatched the puzzle out of his still tightly clinging fingers and began to scoff at his answers. Continuing his vacuous act, he responded sarcastically as they made their collective ways to the briefing room.

The General threw an ironic welcome Jack's way, which smarted a bit. He'd been unaware his C.O. was also waiting on his arrival. Sitting up a tad straighter in his usual chair, he threw Daniel a questioning look.

'I should have realized that the little geek would rush full tilt into the ever greedy jaws of unknown peril and headed into the base earlier.' The General was speaking once more and Jack returned his attention to Hammond. George was voicing his surprise that Jack would undertake this mission. 'Mission?' He too was surprised and voiced it succinctly.

Daniel gave Jack one of those looks. A look designed to show off Daniel's aptitude for tolerance.

Affecting a tone of polite irony, Daniel initiated the debate. "Well why wouldn't we want to gain access to the greatest repository of knowledge in the known universe; once and for all find the lost city of the Ancients and use their advanced technology to save the entire galaxy from the evil oppression of the Goa'uld?"

Jack had no argument there. "Well, there is that."

The next thing Jack knew, he and the rest of his team were headed for the destination Danny was so keen on, along with SG-3 and SG-5. Shortly after, he was interfacing with the head-sucking repository of knowledge on P3X-429. Events snowballed after that.

The new President, a true political shrub, had bowed to the evil whims of Kinsey's political machinations had replaced Hammond.

Due to this political upheaval, the SGC had been over run, with civilian types. And, the Stargate had been effectively shut down, trapping SG-1 on Earth. The new head of the SGC a Dr. Elizabeth Weir, political scientist, persuaded by the zealous members of SG-1 and Master Bra'tac, had finally allowed the team use of a Goa'uld cargo ship. Hence Jack, his body and mind already beginning to employ the knowledge of the Ancients, along with SG-1, had found themselves on a trip to a galaxy far, far away. Braving the hostile environment, he'd procured the power source for a big honking weapon, which just happened to be beneath the ice of Antarctica.

Once he'd eradicated the cliché Anubis, Jack had been weakened and near death. Teal'c had understood his halting direction to place him into a stasis device, where he'd be essentially frozen, until they could find him help. Hopefully, his little Asgard buddy Thor would come to his rescue.

As his mind was slowly eroded by the vast amounts of knowledge the device had downloaded into his brain and his already freezing body stiffening, Jack O'Neill's last clear thought was that he'd miss the look on Danny boy's face when the seeds of his carefully orchestrated "operation checkmate" came to fruition. Crap!

***

Over the past several weeks, Daniel had been sequestered in his office trying to figure out how to help a frozen Jack O'Neill, who still remained a virtual prisoner in stasis under the ice flows of Antarctica.

Various nations had become cognizant of the events surrounding the battle with Anubis and were currently arguing over the newly discovered Ancients outpost, debating just who had jurisdiction. The fact that it contained the world's most fantastic weapon added considerably to the confusion.

After weeks of intense arguing, things remained at an impasse and Daniel's frustration had grown.

He missed Jack's presence. Missed his wiseass remarks and irreverence. Jack wouldn't take the load of crap he and the rest of SG-1 had been forced to tolerate. Hell no! If any one of them had lain frozen and alone like a Popsicle beneath the ice on Antarctica, Jack O'Neill would have found some way to line up all Earth's resources. He'd have saved their ass and thawed them out! Gone to another galaxy or beyond to do it! He'd do whatever was necessary. Hell, he'd done it multiple times before! Jack would sacrifice his very soul to save one of his team. Ironically, he may have done just that this time and Daniel was becoming ever more desperate to change that imminent possibility.

Fully aware of SG-1's frustrations and efforts, Dr. Weir had ordered them all, Daniel, Teal'c and Major Carter, to take the weekend off and rest. She'd been increasingly concerned over their cumulative obsession to rescue their team leader and friend. Negotiations were slow and while she too was anxious to help the valiant Colonel, things would still require delicate care and patience if they were to succeed.

Annoyed at first, each member of SG-1 eventually capitulated. What choice did they have?

Teal'c sought solace in the embrace of his new love, Beverly, who along with the rest of the SGC mourned the loss of their crusty Colonel and hero.

Now that he was finally going home for a day or two, Daniel itemized the chores he needed to attend to. Arriving at the front door of his apartment, he was stunned to find a huge bag of mail awaiting him. Opening the bag with his usual curiosity, he became even more perplexed. The letters were addressed to one Dr. H. Mercury Troglodyte? Dragging the enormous bag inside, Daniel opened an envelope, careful not to tear it just in case he needed to reseal it for forwarding. Scanning the missive, his confusion increased with each written word. Who in the heck was H. Mercury Troglodyte and why was he using Daniel's address?

Samantha Carter was shocked. Checking her new e-mail account, she was astonished to find she had over 500 new mailings! She'd expected, well more accurately, she'd wistfully hoped, to receive only one response on this new account! Or, more likely, none at all! What the devil was happening?

Opening one e-mailing after the other, she was shocked to discover they were all responses to a singles advert. That fact became patently clear, as she scanned one lovelorn letter after another. Many of the respondents had simply used the reply feature, which had attached the original posting as a tag. Scanning the wry composition, Sam, her eyes filled with tears broke into an affectionate smile.

The Colonel could be quite adept when it came to practical jokes in reverse. The posting was clearly intended, as a devious method to get even with the person he'd assumed had sent the original e-mailing. Judging from the description, the Colonel had thought that person had been Daniel. The reference to "Mercury Ham" confirmed that little tidbit. The first monkey that the U.S.A. had sent into space in 1961 had been a Chimp named Ham, and said monkey, had been riding a Mercury rocket! Although it had been awhile since the Colonel had called Daniel by that affectionate nickname, he'd clearly chosen to use it as a telling signature now.

Once she'd had a good cry, Sam called Daniel, and together they marveled over the Colonel's ingenuity. Then they contacted Teal'c. Gathering at Sam's for lunch, the two filled him in. The resulting reminiscing conversation and the carefully thought out prank, added to their sense of loss; they missed their cheeky and occasionally childlike, friend and team leader even more. Both Sam and Daniel couldn't wait to deal with their missing duplicitous jester. And, following the revelation that it had been Major Carter who had sent the original e-mailing to O'Neill, and factoring in it's contents, Teal'c was even more determined to act as O'Neill's Banebdje'det.

Hence, it was an even more determined SG-1, who returned to the SGC on Monday, each determined to find a way to rescue Jack O'Neill.

On to Chapter Three