"Incoming Wormhole!"
"IDC Sig?"
"SGC, Ma'am"
"Get the shield down."
"Yes Ma'am."
Thousands of Light-years and a galaxy away, the Stargate in Atlantis exploded in that familiar blue burst, which receded as quickly as it had burst, leaving six figures standing in the gate room. Or more accurately, six more figures were standing in the gate room, for the six had not even gotten fully over the familiar cold, damp feeling of going through the gate or from the momentary blindness from the usual light to notice the great number of people who had crowded the gate room.
Due to the fact that visitations from Earth were few and far between, and the fact that these were especially dignified (some would say legendary) guests; there had been a great anticipation to meet the "great" SG-1. The rest of the city that had been explored had been garrisoned with a skeleton staff (there was, after all, no need to hand the city on a silver platter should the Wraith decide to pay a "surprise visit.") However, for all the crowded space in the room, there was stark, sheer silence as the gate deactivated.
Sam was not pleased. Though that was an understatement. Sam was pissed! She had barely gotten around the whole Felger thing, which had finally been laid to rest when he (FINALLY) realized that his assistant Chloe loved and that he loved her. She was genuinely happy, make no mistake, but that was sweetened by the fact that it meant one less person who had a crush on her. You would think the universe would be kind enough to allow her a chance to soak in and enjoy that triumph, BUT NO.
She knew that she was the heartthrob for many of men (and, she suspected, some of the women) on base; but at the top of that list lay two names, names she grew to dread (or at least groan at): Rodney McKay and Jay Felger. She though she could get a brief respite, with the latter now in a committed relationship, and the former safely in another galaxy. However, due to the necessity of finding the Furlings and getting an alliance or at least some sort of agreement, she was forced to deal with the former just when she was getting ready to celebrate after the latter was removed.
However, no use crying over spilt milk. Now how to go about surviving.
She was brought out of her stupor by the fact that a familiar face was approaching them from the crowd.
She had worked with Elizabeth Weir previously, during the crisis with the Lost City, and she had changed quite a bit but at the same time had not really changed much at all. She was still the brown-haired career diplomat-scientist she had been before, but since taking control of Atlantis, she seemed to have become more confident, more sure of herself, with a healthy grasp for command.
However, it did not escape Sam's grasp that her walk was filled with uncertainty, that she was not as confident as she portrayed herself to be. And Sam could not blame her. It was always more than a little bit unnerving.
After proceeding a few steps, Elizabeth said "Generals, Colonel, Dr. Jackson, everyone; how was the trip?"
"Not bad enough to require surgery. Yet." Quipped a very certain (and very attractive) Colon-General.
To this, Elizabeth merely nodded, and led the way through the crowd. The usual greetings, exchanges, and talks were exchanged with the Athosians, the staff, and the scientists; until they had eventually forced their way through the crowd of people, and reached the hall.
Strangely enough, Rodney was acting rather...controlled. Normally that would be a good sign. But this was Rodney, and knowing the usually-hyper Canuck, that was thus not likely a good thing.
Oh well, only way to find out what he was planning was to keep an eye peeled and wait.
The mass of humanity had largely dispersed in their various directions, though even when he was submersed in his own musings, he could not fail to note the number of people who had taken a "wrong turn" into his quarters. However, he was largely left alone to be submerged in his thoughts, and all the misery that accompanied them.
However, he was called out to eat, and since not doing so would attract some worry and suspicion, and he needed nor wanted either. So he went, and would try to keep as low profile as humanely possible.
And he succeeded to an extent, figuratively huddled in an equally figurative corner, eating as quickly and quietly as possible, trying not to draw attention to himself.
He succeeded for a while, but than was shoved from his solitude by a simple, inoffensive, polite sentence.
"So, General O'Neill, it is an honor to meet you at last. We have heard so much about you."
The comment, from the Athosian leader, Teyla; shook Jack out of his thoughts, and he came to the unpleasant realization that he could no longer NOT draw attention to himself, feeling the eyes of a good deal of the room on him.
"Yes, well thank you... Teyla, wasn't it?" he said, hoping that he was not being too obvious.
"Yes, you said it right. However, we were wondering why you have been so quiet. Surely someone of your standing has something to tell us?"
"What is there to tell? Anyway, I'm Stuffed, 'Night."
He didn't mean to be rude, but he didn't want to be disturbed, so he made his way back to his bunk.
"Colonel Carter, is General O'Neill always this reserved?" The Athosian asked.
"No, this is not usual for Jack." Sam attempted to remain a calm appearance. In reality, she was afraid. Deeply afraid. Jack was not his lively, joking self, and she worried. Something must be wrong. Terribly wrong.
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Somewhere, in the sprawling Atlantean cityscape, in one of the countless shadows of one of the endless corridors in one of the forgotten, derelict levels that honeycombed Atlantis; one creature, lying in wait, added his thoughts:
'There is. At least from his perspective. And his Adjutant, however she may worry, has no proof, and is unable to reach O'Neill to find out what is wrong.. Thus is the curse of this Tauri emotion "Love;'
'The unfortunate General has obviously not told anyone, and will hardly even admit it to himself.'
Though he did not admit it aloud, it was almost as bad an insult as the one the locals had pulled back near base called him the name of a glossy, dull Tauri cloth.
'Enough about the locals, they can be dealt with at my leisure. For now, I must focus on the now.'
'They are all gathered HERE. IN ONE SPOT! It was almost too good for him to believe, and with the relapse coming into play soon, he could bag all the Ymalandyrs with but one stone if he was lucky. If not, there was always the backup plan...'.
'But one mustn't get ahead of oneself. The first thing was to give his dear "friend" Jack a message, and than build the snare of the final one to be added, and the first one to be tried. And even should that one fail, there was more than enough to try again. And again. And again and again.'
The beast in humanoid form, having finished his thoughts, stepped out of one of the countless shadows in one of the endless corridors of the city's numberless abandoned levels, his mind poised, and his eyes glinting with fiery red, like a predator on the hunt.
There was work to be done.