Captain Isiah Cochran

The Bird Colonel catches on fast. That, I gotta admit. He followed these guys to their meet and even figured out where they were going before they got there.

When their car turned in at Peterson Air Base and he drove past I nearly panicked though. My head snapped around to watch their car stop at the gate before wrenching it back to MacKenzie.

"Hey..."

"Do you propose we expose ourselves by driving up behind them? You did say we didn't want to stop them."

"Yeah, I did, but..."

"All we have to do is see them, correct?"

"Yeah, that would...

"Will this do?"

He pulls the car across the road from the Base's fence, and up into a makeshift parking area.

Hey, I recognize this. Lots of people come here to watch the planes. It's higher than the fence and ignored by the guards, low security. You need binoculars or a telescope to see anything during the day, too far away for conventional weapons fire. Only a rocket would reach the buildings or landing strips from here and that would be noticed by the heavy military traffic along this road.

This Bird Colonel is one smart cookie, even if he doesn't have the slightest idea what he's doing.

"Perfect. Pictures right?"

He nods a yes; unlike me he's still watching the car. I pull the telephoto-equipped camera from between my feet, pop the cap and zero in on the gate.

Shit! No car!

A sudden tug on the heavy nose of the camera has me seeing a blurry dark streak, I steady the camera on the streak and it resolves into the car, which swiftly disappears again. I move the camera slightly back and forth to reacquire the car. There they are.

The road they're on I recognize, it leads to a landing strip that's strictly for non-military aircraft use. That road and the plane parking area are right across from us. This couldn't be better.

Blindly reaching behind my seat I grope for another item I always carry. While handing it to the Bird Colonel, I snap off a shot or two.

"Excellent."

At his one word comeback, I let a smirk build across my face, I hear him remove the binoculars from the case and assume he is using them to watch also. My eyes never leave the goons.

 The dark car stops at the edge of the runway. Nothing stirs for nearly an hour. During that hour, I try to engage the Bird Colonel in conversation, but he ignores me. I've noticed he does that a lot.

Zeroed in on the car, I'm still waiting for them to make a move. This time, I've gotten the license plate number off the car using the telephoto. Suddenly my arm is whacked, hard.

Ow!

It takes a second to focus on my fellow officer across the van cab from me; I've been peering through that camera way too long. He looks unhappy as he waves a hand in front of my eyes, like he's checking if I'm blind or something. As my eyes start following his hand he uses it to point into the sky, then he jabs in that direction a few times when I don't immediately response.

"What the hell..."

"Plane."

He jabs his finger in the same direction again. I squint. I don't see anything?

"Too high, headlights."

Scanning lower in the sky, I, Oooh... those headlights. They do seem a little high for a car and there wouldn't be any cars in that direction anyway. Bringing up the telephoto again, I center those lights in it and nearly get blinded. Thank God MacKenzie batted the camera down or I might have been. Thinking to thank him, I stop to reconsider when he starts shaking his head and tsk-ing. Acting like I haven't two brain cells to rub together in my whole head. Guys with PHD's behind their names can be so arrogant.

We both sit quietly and watch the plane land and taxi up to the car. The car door begins to open...

"Now."

"Now? Now, what?"

"Now would be the time to use that camera."

Oh, yeah...

***

Jeez the guy is just outside the door. He's been like a leech since Petersen. He actually reached across me and locked my door, and then he broke the button off. I thought, 'Ha!' Grabbing the door handle, I pumped it. Oops. Child safety regs. The door won't open from the inside without lifting the button. It's a really, really good idea, but it sure sucked right then. Oh, well, I guess I'll never get my deposit back now.

'The Doc is acting like my boss or... oh, yeah. Colonel to my Captain, I keep forgetting.'

Wham! Ow!

'Shit, feels like I ripped my leg in half or something.'

Damn it, can't they get some decent state of the art equipment, darkrooms are so passé these days. Maybe when the Colonel finally shows up he and I can discuss it.

'Ah, face it Isiah you'll be lucky to be able to breathe in the presence of that living legend.'

Snap.

'There, the film's in the solution.' Walking my invisible hand across the counter till I feel the lump of the timer, I thump it a few times until I can hear it ticking away.

'Yep, all the leads are being developed, right here, right now.'

For that one, I let loose a real chuckle. I crack me up.

Yep, the two guys we'd followed to Petersen stepped out of their car and stood waiting for the Lear to come to a smooth rest a couple dozen feet from them. I snapped a few long framing shots and a few close ones. Can never get enough close ups, makes good evidence. Might need those clear ID shots in court.

The plane's hatch swung up and the steps dropped to the ground, shiny black leather shoes appeared below expensive trousers, expanding rapidly upwards to reveal a matching suit coat. A red glint of a power tie below a pale face crowned with dark hair. Snapping off a few more frames, I mentally tick off just how much film I had left in the camera. Needing a good close up I suddenly notice the appearance of more shiny leathers on the plane's steps. Two more men followed the first, both in uniform. They gathered in a knot at the base of the steps.

Our guys walked over to them, standing with their backs to their bright car headlights and me. Jeez, like they read my mind or something. Three darkness paled faces shown in the viewfinder. I twisted the lenses to zoom in on each in turn, repeating the shots twice for each man. Bracketing insures I have at least one good shot.

Watching through the telephoto, I could see them speaking. Hell, why didn't I bring the camcorder, It's zoom is just a good as the camera in my hand, I could've recorded the conversation. Shit, now I'll have to just remember. Watching carefully, I see enough of their faces to read their lips and I impress each word I catch onto my mind.

This is something that MacKenzie need not know. This is my case and I will solve it. This information is mine and mine alone.

In their conversation the names 'Van Sickle' and 'Healing Device' were repeated enough for me to be absolutely sure that those where the words spoken. Lip reading is pretty hard close up for those with hearing and nearly impossible at such a distance. So I picked up only some of their conversation. What I did catch was pretty eye opening.

BUZZZZ!

In the dark, I drain the developer from the canister and pour in the fixer. I thump the timer again.

Jeez, I should've had prints by now. Going to a one-hour place would'a been faster. They could've sucked the film from its can, right through the machine and had nice double glossies before I could've gotten through a McDonalds's drive-up for coffee. Jeez, they would've even have put them on a CD for me.

The Bird Colonel wouldn't let me use the one-hour place though. Or the drive-up either. Who does he think...? Yeah, Colonel to my Captain. Crap!

He said that would be a breach of Security. Breach my ass! I am Security, wouldn't I know?

The Air Force is still in the dark ages with this darkroom.

Yeah, dark like watching those guys at Petersen I lost the thread of their conversation when the anger started. The guys from the plane started shouting and waving their arms. Our guys just took it.

'I've got to ditch the Doc. He's cramping my style. And this is taking forever!'

I'll make two sets of prints, but he won't know about me digitizing a set and e-mailing copies to my office and Dr. Jackson. At least this dinosaur has a scanner and computer terminal.

Jeez!

Dr MacKenzie

Savoring my coffee, I review my evening.

Not my typical evening of a good meal, wine and excellent music. No reading of journals or files to review.

Such sacrifices must be made to redeem myself.

Like waiting.

Actually, I'm guarding the doorway, preventing that simpleton from escaping from my presence before I see the fruit of our joint labors.

This will be such a waste of effort if the man is not capable of taking decent photographs. All my time spent on prodding him to action for naught.

The man wanted to go to a public one-hour film processing service. How did he get into Security let alone become head of it? It's beyond my comprehension.

The photos will help identify the organization that is behind that doctor. There must be some 'agency' behind all of this, I'm sure of that. Especially after watching that conversation through the binoculars. Thank goodness, I had learned to read lips long ago. However, reading them at such a distance is extremely difficult, but I prevailed. Obtaining the names, 'Van Sickle' and 'Healing Device.'

To discover the link between those two names, I need to get into Means' office. Well, beyond the obvious of course. The young lieutenant was helped by the Tok'ra Selmac who wielded a Healing Device to repair what damage he could, that much I already know. But the conversation out on that dark airstrip implies a different kind of link.

Two military officers, a well dressed official and a private plane. Met by two hirelings at night. It reeks of the unofficial interest of someone in the official line of knowledge. Someone sees profit or power in the innocence of Colonel O'Neill's act of succor.

To go back to Means' office, unaccompanied, I need to occupy Captain Cochran with something

The answers I need will be there. That quack has got to be stupid enough to write it all down.

Dr Janet Fraiser

Have we sent a team to P3X-989? Is this another one of those copies? I thought Harlan promised not to do that anymore.

It's the only plausible explanation I can arrive at.

As this can't be the silent withdrawn young man that showed up at my office door a little less than a week ago.

Lt. Van Sickle can hardly sit still; his restlessness is causing me some concern. Is spontaneous combustion possible? Obviously his mind is somewhere else; he is anxious, excited and elated all at once.

Again, I check his dog tags.

This is not the young man described in Dr Means' files either. Not that I ever saw defeat or depression.

Now... Now, there is no more staring at the floor; gone is the lack of curiosity and expressions of emotion actually flash across his handsome young face. His green eye blazes with excitement. He exhibits the eagerness that puppies develop after discovering they can run. And, from the way his legs are bumping against the exam table he can hardly wait to sprint away.

One person and three distinct views of his mental state?

Over the last few days, his introverted outlook has taken a 360-degree shift and his physical condition has improved just as impressively. He looks good, his stamina is returning, he's gained six pounds, apparently all muscle. The puffiness around his face has finally subsided.

However, his hand... that is the wonder.

He can awkwardly flex those two joined fingers. Putting them to good use, actually picking up objects and using his palm in place of the nub left of his thumb. He has improved sensation, so much improvement. Not complete recovery by any means, but miraculous just the same. I foresee further improvement; having a purpose can work wonders.

"Dr Fraiser?"

"Lieutenant, you have just achieved your goal. I'll release you for limited off world duty under Colonel O'Neill's supervision."

His reaction is truly heartwarming; I can't help but smile.

"HOT DOG!" Rings through the Infirmary as he jumps off the exam table and into the air with a further whoop of joy. Yes, the Colonel's boy is ecstatic.

Heads poke out around curtains and through doorways, I see puzzled expressions on their faces. Even a worried looking SF sticks his head in from the hall. He smiles and disappears after I silently reassure him

"Ah, hmmm," I clear my throat loudly.

"Jeez, I'm sorry Dr Fraiser." Eric's face burned brightly but his smile never diminishes, so very different from a few days ago.

"It's okay, just wait until you're in the hallway next time."

"Yes, Ma'am. Can I go now? I have lots to do."

"Yes, we're all finished. I'll just need to see you before you depart for the standard pre-mission check. The Colonel will confirm when that will be."

"Thanks, Ma'am."

He scoots out of the Infirmary quicker than an eel down a greased chute. With a silly grin on my face, I shake my head in wonder. His attitude is infectious.

How the change was effected in him I really don't know, but I have a suspicion that the Colonel's responsible for it. Being unable to catch up with him at all about the troubling things I have discovered about Lt. Van Sickle convinces me of that suspicion.

Through the most peculiar circumstance, Dr MacKenzie chanced across a Captain from Security looking into what happened between the young lieutenant and Dr Means, so the Colonel does know something about what's going on. As to whether he knows that MacKenzie and his man have joined forces, I don't know.

Moreover, since the Colonel seems to be avoiding me, I won't know for a while yet.

Lt. Eric Van Sickle

Poking as fast as my seven fingers can move across the keyboard, limping where once they flew, I realize that I have only a couple of hours before I have to present my selection of personnel to Colonel O'Neill. Typing is just another obstacle to work through. Puffing out a held breath, I backspace to type a word correctly, again.

Over the last few days, I've worked hard, using every spare moment to work on the pilot project.

Even infringing on the conditions that Dr Fraiser had set for my physical conditioning. Walking faster and longer and I even jogged when I could get away with it. Cheating recklessly, I snuck into the gym and lifted some light weights, just reps rather than pounds. Not being totally crazy, I was careful to eat right and get plenty of sleep. After all, if I didn't live up to the spirit of her rules, I'd leave the Colonel high and dry when she grounded me. And I wasn't going to let that happen.

I'd already let too much happen.

One sleepless night convinced me of that. How could I let some jerk shrink convince me that I'd brought the farm, or at least put money down on it? Getting me to dig my own grave and I was willing to lie in it too. All because someone told me that I had no future.

I'd let myself down.

The strange thing is that it wasn't the Colonel's manipulations that convinced me I had a future. It was Teal'c. His offer to help me adjust to my new limitations, that my lost eye and fingers were just inconveniences convinced me.

My brain works just fine thank you and I'm alive, I have another eye, a hand, and both legs that work. This loss I can work around, and besides, it's only a loss if I allow it to be.

They both showed me the only thing stopping me, was me.

Would I have ever arrived at this point on my own?

No, I really don't think so.

Therefore, the Colonel does play a big role in my revelations; he got me away from the negative influence of Dr Means and his goons. He may not have provided the argument that finally changed my mind, but he gave me the opportunity to hear it.

It's a mystery why Means did what he did, and I wish I knew why he did it.  Never again will I let anyone tell me what I can or cannot do. Only I can decide that and if I can't do something, it wouldn't be from a lack of trying.

Of course, trying doesn't always work. I tried very hard to get my fingers to work, harder than I'd ever tried anything. It didn't work. Brute force isn't always the answer; sometimes brainpower is the only force needed. Knowing when you have to just let things happen can be the answer, don't dwell on it, just do it. That worked with my fingers, I didn't think about picking up that folder, I just did it. They worked because I didn't force them.

It's a lesson. Forcing something is not good. Like Dr Means forced me to see his view of my condition. From now on I need to remember to let things happen, not force them.

I'm already much happier and I intend to remain that way.

My new goal is to spread my new happiness. The first recipient will be Colonel O'Neill. My hard work on his project is a small part of that, setting everything up to let the project happen. All I need to do is get the right people together, show them what needs to be done, and let nature take its course. The project needn't be forced; I can just allow it to happen. Arranging the right circumstances is the key to success. See, I learned my lesson.

My hard work on the project is rewarding; freeing me from my self imposed depression, giving me a sense of accomplishment and worth that I have been missing since my foolish accident. I've discovered many interesting things as I dug around base records and the Internet finding out what I would need to convert the tunnels found on PBX 123, turning it into a viable mirror of the SGC.

The rudiments of running an operation had been taught to me, but nothing quite like this. Not knowing everything, or anything, I lacked experts to tell me what needed to be done. So, through a little research I found out which experts would be required. It was so easy to discover that I needed a geologist, a structural engineer, an electrical engineer, and probably an architect. That's just for the physical conversion of the tunnels. Additionally, I'll also need a botanist, a zoologist, and archaeologist.

At first that sounds kind of odd, two distinct groups, or more like three.

The archeologist will investigate the site, drawing out all of the information possible, providing answers to our questions. Maybe he'll be able to tell me why it was abandoned, that could have a direct bearing on us using the site. And why the planet possesses a Stargate that wasn't on the Ancient's list.

Not being on the Abydos list I can understand, the Goa'uld don't know the location of all the Gates. They had to discover each Gate on their own. However, the Ancients built the Gate system, they know where all of them are. It could be very important to discover why this planet isn't on their list.

The botanist and zoologist are important to determine if there is dangerous or beneficial plant or animal life on PBX 123. Especially if the SGC is forced to evacuate, they might conceivably be forced to live off the land and having certain knowledge of what one can or cannot eat would be crucial.

The geologist has a two-fold role. The soundness of the tunnels will need to be evaluated and working in conjunction with the structural engineer, he can determine what modifications are needed and what would be the best location for various parts of the new base. Providing a judgment of the stability of the planet and the surrounding area would be helpful too. Finding a reliable source of water and power production will be necessary.

The engineer and architect will be mainly concerned with the conversion of the tunnels to our use.

Having someone along to scope out the orbit of the planet and point out any possibilities of problems from space would be of great benefit. Meteor showers for instance, like the one that I had heard had stranded Colonel O'Neill on Edora for three months.

After careful consideration of the candidates for this venture, I believe that I have found just the right people and I am lucky enough to have them located nearby. Maybe not lucky, the deck was stacked; all of the files I had been given to go through were of people injured mainly right here at the SGC. The shear numbers lost due to injury every year is staggering. Even a major training base doesn't lose people this fast, only bases in conflict zones do.

Then again, the SGC is a conflict zone.

Dr MacKenzie

Before effectively 'ditching' Captain Cochran, I ordered him to hand over the negatives and copies of the photographs he took at Petersen Air Base. He colored a rather bright shade of red and blustered somewhat but he complied, he had little choice, unless he enjoys the stockade.

I did promise to see that a set got to Colonel O'Neill. I just didn't specify when.

Then I suggested that he stay away from those two ruffians. The man is so predictable. He took the bait like a hatchery trout to kibble, nearly digested before lips met again.

Now that the good Captain is wasting his time following Dr Means' 'goons', I can visit the quack's office.

Having the foresight to check a neighboring business, I acquired information on the habitual hours that Dr Means keeps at his office. For a paltry sum of cash, the proprietor informed me that the man keeps banker's hours. The charlatan never comes in early and never stays late. Perfect.

At dusk, I plan to return to that office and rifle the files. Yes, rifle, that is the correct word.

Dr Daniel Jackson

"Humph!"

Startled, I jerked my head up nearly braining myself with the magnifier. I had been using it to study an inscribed metal plate. Oh, that would have hurt. I glance at the open door, expecting to see Jack there.

"Captain Cochran."

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you like that."

At our last meeting, he had not been happy at all, so I had a feeling that he didn't mean what he just said. He was no doubt getting back at me for believing that I had deliberately mislead him into believing that Jack was the one he was to meet with.

He stepped into the room and began looking at everything closely, not touching, but he would stand very close bringing me to the brink of believing he was about to touch something. I didn't think anyone could be worse than Jack, but Jack actually touched things, ending my suspense.

Standing, I tried to get between him and the artifacts arranged around my office.

"Is there something I can do for you Captain?"

"I'm not sure. However, there is something I can do for you, or at least for Colonel O'Neill."

He stopped and I nearly fainted when he reached out and touched my computer screen -- not an artifact.

Darn, the things that I do for Jack.

"Yes... and that would be?"

He reached out to my computer screen again and tapped it.

"Have you checked your e-mail lately?"

"Ah... No. Why?"

"You should have mail as I e-mailed you some photographs... interesting photographs."

His smug expression warned me that I would probably have to pull every iota of information from him. No doubt under force of siccing Jack on him. Ah... no, that would really work for him, not me and especially not for Jack. Deciding to indulge the man, I smiled. Maybe he would crack and give something up willingly. Moments like this always cause me to wonder just why SG-1 never bothered to acquire a pain stick.

"Should I check it right now?"

He nodded and I sat down and opened up the intra-base flash mail system. There, just like he said was an e-mail from him, with multiple attachments. Highlighting all of the attachments, I clicked them open. They rapidly begin to display as large thumbnails across my screen.

"Wow! That's impressive, my computer can't do that. What kind of program do you have in there? I have to open attachments one at a time. Can I borrow your copy? This would come in real handy in my line of work."

During his barrage of words, he moved so close to me that he was practically standing on me, getting as close to the screen as possible.

"I..."

"Here, this one, blow it up." He impatiently tapped one of the lower thumbnails. Once I clicked on it, it expanded across the screen until it filled half of it, pushing the now reduced thumbnails to the bottom.

"How's..."

"Great, great. Jeez, I really would like to have a copy of this program. Now this guy here is the main character in our little drama. Don't know who he is yet, but I really haven't looked either. Now, this one."

"Okay," I complied.

"This guy came with the suit, he's an officer and I think the suit is some kind of spook from some government agency. This one."

Yielding, I expanded the indicated thumbnail.

"He was with the other two, another officer. They all arrived on a Lear that landed at Petersen. At night yet. Mysterious, isn't it."

He turned to smirk at me, nodding as if he expected me to agree. Not knowing who all of these people were, I was a little confused.

"They are connected to Dr Means -- how?"

Now he looked confused, then smiled knowingly.

"Right." He pulled the word out. "I followed Dr. Means' muscle. Here."

He tapped another photo, which I expanded.

"Muscle?" I raised my eyebrows, widening my eyes and tried to look innocently ignorant. It worked with a vengeance.

"Oh, sorry Doc. Muscle, as in these guys work for Dr Means, like aggressive body guards. Only worse."

He treated me to a lengthy and colorful narrative of his apparently daring exploits on Jack's behalf. Totally dwarfing Jack's best efforts to drown me in the spoken word, Captain Cochran took that tactic to rarified heights of which even I never dreamed were possible.

He did make it clear that what was going on with Lt. Van Sickle wasn't just stumbling across an unprofessional therapist, but a conspiracy involving the military, subtly echoing Jack's earlier fears. Fears that may be truer than anyone has realized. I do not intend to tell everything to Jack because of this. He has been hurt too much in the past by such people. No, before informing him, I will find out exactly what is going on. I want to spare him as much as possible; he has too much to deal with right now.

He is desperately trying to salvage Eric's life and hopefully doing so will bring a little brightness into his own. Neither of them needs this additional complication.

Captain Cochran will be continuing his investigation and I can take the photographs and work on discovering who these people really are and maybe a connection can be found.

Since the majority of the new actors in the drama are military, I'll need help identifying them. Cochran will be working towards that end, but I'm sure that Cochran is keeping something from me. So to insure that I'm getting all the information, I will need to have someone else working on the identification too. Only who?

Colonel Jack O'Neill

Drumming my fingers on my desktop, I'm nervous as hell.

In just a few minutes, Lt. Van Sickle will walk into this office with a mission plan. Sink or swim time, for both of us.

God, I hate this kind of stuff. To see him fail, seeing such promise die. That's one thing I don't want to see. It would really hurt both of us.

It's possible that he'll just give up; his attitude last time that we talked was so defeatist.

Did I give him enough time to turn his thinking around? Did I give him enough reason to? Did I do the right thing?

Or, is this, like he said, just about my guilt? God, I hope not!

Damn, it's just so confusing sometimes. Could I have totally misread the kid the first time I met him?

No! He's a survivor. I've got to quit doubting my decision.

No matter how this meeting turns out, I am going to find out how anyone got that close to one of our own with such intentional malice.

Daniel tells me that Captain Cochran is working on finding out just what is going on with Dr Means, but he didn't have any actual information. Damn, I had hoped for something, anything, even if it's just a direction to go in. Hard evidence is what I need, clearly proving what had been done to the kid, the kind of hell he went through. Anything that would prevent it from happening to anyone else would help.

Why did I let Daniel take this on? And just how did he talk me into it? Sometimes I find it difficult to refuse him. Danny is a lot like Charlie that way, twisting me around his little finger. When faced with those wide hopeful pleading eyes I can be so spineless. What father could resist that?

I'm surprised by that last thought. I think of Danny as a son? Well, I guess that isn't that strange, I think of all of these young kids coming into the SGC in a fatherly sort of way, someone has to watch out for them.

'Face it O'Neill you miss Charlie so much you see him in every youngster you come across.'

Well, let's think about something else shall we?

Okay, but the only good thing that's happened this week is that Hammond and I have finally whipped the budget into presentation shape. Ironclad, presentation shape, those pencil pushers would have to be insane to deny anything there.

Who am I kidding, they are insane and totally clueless, Hammond winds up fighting for a lot of the budget every year.

The knock on the door wipes budgetary concerns from my mind, and just about every other thought too. Kicking my brain back into gear I yell, 'come.'

This time I watch him come in, he walks up to the front of my desk and salutes, and I return it without standing. I indicate a chair; he sits placing a handful of files in his lap. He looks better. He also looks nervous, just as nervous as I feel.

I smile.

He smiles back, just a tentative smile, but it's a start. Holding my smile, I wait.

Oh, I guess I should say something. Lieutenants don't usually begin conversations with colonels.

"Lieutenant what do you have for me?"

'Brilliant opening O'Neill.'

"Sir."

He hands me a folder, his overall mission plan. Opening it I sink back into my chair and start reading. It's well lain out, concise, very to the point. Just the way I like 'em. I hate a lot of rhetoric.

The kid sits stiffly in the chair watching me read, all very correct. What did ya expect O'Neill? That he'd be tickled pink with the way you handled him the last time he was here? Something must have gone right because what I've seen of his work on the project is excellent.

He recommends a five to eight day mission, contingent on the availability of personnel; I like what I see and wonder who he's rounded up.

"Personnel?"

"Here, Sir."

With an assurance he lacked at our last meeting, he hands me eight more folders. Each labeled with name, rank and specialty. Picking up the first one, I read the name.

"Sgt. MacDowell, electrical engineer. Give me the short story."

Resting my elbows on the chair arms, I straighten in my seat and lace my fingers together, giving him my full attention.

"Formally of the SGC, highly recommended by Sgt. Siler. Lost left arm from the elbow down nearly a year ago when General Bauer headed the SGC."

Yeah, I remember something about that... At the time I was more concerned with what was going on with George, there had been some serious accidents in the SGC because of the idiot Bauer.

Unclasping my hands, I reached out to pick up the next folder, glancing at it briefly. The kid gave such a short answer on the last one I think I'll let him fill me in, later I'll read the folders to get the whole story.

"Major Drake, structural engineer. Experience?"

"Worked on the refit two years ago of Cheyenne Mountain, injured six months ago in a wall collapse at Offutt, lost lower left leg. Placed on the disabled list two days before scheduled promotion to light colonel."

"Damn, that's rude," I bark out harshly, startling the kid who gives me an abashed look. Hurriedly, I go on to the next folder. "Captain Ellis?"

"Geologist, knee brace, fall from a cliff while assigned to SG-15."

My mind dredges up the background, I really felt bad about letting that one go, that could have so easily been me. What with the bad knee already, a brace in my future could be more than sheer chance. I open the next folder.

"Captain Everett?"

"Xeno-botanist, nerve damage left shoulder, spear thrust, formally assigned to SG-17."

Janet was sorry to lose that one. She swore that discoveries of new curative plants dwindled down to nothing after that accident.

"Lt. Wong?"

"Xeno-biologist, lost right hand, attacked by indigenous animal while assigned to SG-15."

What's with SG-15, are they jinxed or something. Oy!

"Brent?"

"Civilian, some kind of genetic disease causing palsy. Brent's retired and needs to be recalled. Major Carter says it won't be a problem. Astronomer, specialty, orbital dynamics."

If Carter says okay, it's okay. I don't know this next one at all.

"Captain Iron Horse."

"Architect, worked on Cheyenne Mountain refit also, lost right arm in a car accident."

"And Kent?"

"Dr Jackson recommended him, Archeologist and linguist. Cancer, currently in remission."

"I remember, refused a Tok'ra symbiote. I liked... like that. But I do have one question?"

"Yes, Sir?"

"Do you have problem with female personnel?"

Now that got a reaction from him, he blushed hotly before an angry look crossed his face. Welcoming the emotion he's giving me I grin at him and wait for what should prove to be an interesting explanation.

"What...? I'm sorry Sir, I don't understand."

He's trying so hard to be calm about this.

"Your selection of personnel is heavily weighted towards one sex, why is that?"

Evilly I throw a little iron in my voice, losing the grin for effect, just to rattle him a bit.

"Ah, oh... Well, it's just the way it worked out. Sir."

He's retreating into protocol, emphasizing our rank difference. The hard ass colonel act is a bit much; I need to back down a notch. Putting on an innocent face, I ask a slightly different question.

"Then one sex is more prone to injury than the other?"

"That's correct, Sir. Only this group is not representative of that trend. Males represent 85% of those released through injury. Our group is mainly female, even when adjusting for males being the largest percentage in the SGC, females hold the lowest injury percentage by half."

"So, the women have the best credentials?"

And why not, they have to work so much harder to be taken seriously. Women aren't better or worse than men, just different. When will the rest of the military realize this?

"Yes, sir. Is that bad?"

"Hell no, women are great. I like women; I've even grown to like women scientists. Actually, I've grown to like certain scientists regardless of their gender. You've done an excellent job of picking your team."

To show my pleasure at a job well done, I allow my face and eyes to openly show it, giving him my best tooth-filled smile.

"Thank you Sir."

His crooked grin lightens my mood considerably and I want to include him in it.

"Lose the Sir. At least when we're alone, you sound like Carter."

I grin hugely at him, daring him to grin back.

"Yes, Si..."

"Ack..."

I chuckle and wave an admonishing finger at him. He smiles and ducks his head in embarrassment as he utters his choice.

"Colonel?"

"Sweet."

The kid is relaxing. Back to business.

"I gather you have a preliminary list of requested equipment?"

"Right here Colonel."

The kid's still smiling, glancing into the folder I lose mine fast.

"A Naquadah reactor!"

'Shit!' Carter will blow a gasket. No way is she letting one of her children out of her sight. Glancing at the kid, I realize I scared him. Double shit! Stunned at my blunder I watch him begin to speak.

"Yes, sir...Colonel. Major Carter has a new model she'd like field-tested and has made it available for our use. She's offered to personally train Sgt. MacDowell. Sgt. Siler indicated that MacDowell has experience with the previous two models. It seems a safer solution than a gas generator involving volatile, hard to transport fuel. A lot smaller too."

An explanation! A good one. Pride swells in my chest for the kid, I'd scared him, but he kept his head and explained. Now this is the gutsy kid I remember.

"Good point, just kinda startled me there. Ah... from the amount of electrical wire you intend to put up a few lights."

Grinning sheepishly at him I offer an unspoken plea for forgiveness and receive that crooked grin again. Bonus points! I see a little laughter in that moss green eye of his. I'm relieved. I thought I blew it.

"Yes, those tunnels are dark, light will give us more time to do things right -- safely."

"You even have electrical cooking units, who's going to cook?"

"Everyone on a team pitches in and Teal'c says you make excellent omelets."

Damn, he's pitching it back at me now. I like this kid, so I kick back to enjoy the friendly exchange.

"Yeah, but not from powdered eggs I don't. Teal'c talks too much, have you noticed that?"

He gets the best confused look I've seen since Daniel first saw Sha're.

"Ah, not yet."

Spontaneously, I actually chuckle at his reaction; such a look of disbelief crosses his face.

"Okay, so far so good. Defense?"

He holds up his final folder. He looks a little uncertain about it's reception.

"A proposal, I believe that the team can provide it's own defense, most are from SG Team units, trained in weapons use. However, I intend to run them through the firing range for re-certification. Just to be on the safe side."

Taking the folder, I scan it quickly, liking what I see and I let it show on my face. His relief is instantaneous.

"Lieutenant you've done an excellent job, better than I could do. For missions like this, I'm a little too old-military. Thank you, you've make this pilot project possible."

Pouring my pleasure at his achievement into my words, I smile openly; he looks a little stunned and drops his head to hide his reaction. His head doesn't stay down long, and when he faces me again, gone is the little boy grin of a moment ago. In its place is a serious, guileless expression that I find difficult to interpret. That expression drowns my playful mood like ice water on a hot skillet. Through the confusing steam, I am drawn by the sound of his voice.

"Colonel, I need to apologize for... well... Ah, our last conversation. And to thank you for your confidence in me."

The sincerity in those words puts my attempt at emotional openness to shame. My guilt rises unbidden; I quickly squash it down, now is not the time. Only Eric's feelings matter in this meeting, building his confidence is my only concern here. Dragging him from that dark place I dwell in too often.

"No need to apologize, I should be the one doing that, I was rough on you, but I needed you to see that I had faith in you. My intention was to shock you out of your lack of belief in yourself and it appears to have worked. That's all I care about, that you have your confidence back."

"My allowing myself to get that way, I feel like such a fool for that. And you went to all that trouble for me, I really don't see why?"

"Like I said before, you're a rare commodity. And, having experienced a similar period in my own life, I wanted to help you. As children, we're taught to trust those in authority. Life teaches us to question, but sometimes not soon enough. And, you should know that I have instigated an informal investigation into what happened to you during your counseling. Hopefully, this will lead to an official inquiry. This should never have happened and for that, I'm sorry. If I'd paid more attention to you after you left the SGC, I might have been able to prevent what happened."

"Colonel, I wish that you had kept tabs on me, but I'm sure that what happened would have happened anyway. All you might have been able to do would be to catch on quicker and put a stop to it sooner. But, there is no way that you or anyone could have known what Dr Means planned to do, that's just impossible. I'm just glad that you're here now."

"Fraiser is looking into a new counselor for you, someone who can help you work out what Means tried to do. I won't force you to go, but she will want you to go. You can trust whom she recommends. Just consider it, there's no rush. If you need to talk, I'm here. And, I'm sure that Fraiser, Major Carter, Dr Jackson and even Teal'c would gladly listen too."

At the mention of a new counselor he stiffens and nearly blanks his face. He relaxes as I assure him that he will not be forced. This young man has been through enough without having good intentions shoved down his throat. I so relate to his feelings on this.

"Well..."

"You don't even have to talk about it. Sometimes just talking about nothing to a living breathing person can help. Teal'c would love it. He found you fascinating. He's also itching to get you out onto a training mat, he sees potential in you. You do know that his offer is sincere don't you?"

Hopefully, he'll take one of us up on the talking. There have been many times in the past that just being in the room with one of my team made going on easier than giving up. All of them would like to get to know him better, I'm sure. And I have a selfish reason, I want him to stick around, I find that his presence fills a need in me that I wasn't aware of.

"Thank you, I'll think about the talk and Teal'c's offer. I find him 'fascinating' too. Everyone here has been so helpful, like a family."

"Yep, family. And like a family we help each other."

***

As the kid leaves my office, I feel a swell of pride; he is what I imagine my son would have been.

A stab of pain flares through my heart; I bow my head and ask forgiveness for my betrayal of Charlie's memory.

Looking for his replacement can't be right, but then what is Daniel to me? And Eric is becoming close too, feelings that I have only had with Charlie are being awakened in me and Eric is the source and focus of them.

Am I betraying Charlie by allowing such feelings to surface?

God! I hope not.

[see Chapter Six]