The alarm blares, alerting me the Stargate has been activated. I'm not worried. These days the sound usually signals the return of an SG team or a visit from the Tok'ra, very different from the days following SG-1's first mission to Chulak. Hour after hour, obedient Jaffa threw themselves through the wormhole in a useless attempt to penetrate our iris. I still wonder how many of them had the same desire to free their people, the same hatred for their false god as Teal'c? But not the same courage to follow his lead.
As I rise from behind my desk, relief at the arrival of one of my teams mixes with dread at what they may have encountered on their mission. Many have died in our war against the Goa'uld with many more injured. Yet, everyone remains committed to our fight. As usual when I think of the men and women in my command, tears threaten my vision. My pride in their honor and their achievements has no bounds. I have been blessed.
Blinking rapidly, I square my shoulders and exit my office, descending the stairs to the control room. The technician straightens as I approach, obviously fighting the urge to stand and salute.
"It's SG-1, sir."
"Open the iris." I give the order automatically, my thoughts already focused on the returning team. They are an hour overdue. This is not unusual, yet I find myself holding my breath, expecting the worst.
Teal'c exits the wormhole first, supporting an obviously wounded Daniel Jackson. Numb, I order a medical team to the Embarkation Room. Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter back onto the ramp, weapons firing.
"Close the iris." I hear the colonel shout. I've grown accustomed to this tone, concern for his teammate, mixed with anger at those who inflicted the injury.
As Teal'c gently places his colleague on a stretcher, I make my way downstairs, closing my ears to the thuds impacting the iris. My head can forget these are living beings, but not my heart. Will their leaders feel remorse for needlessly sacrificing the warriors who trusted him?
When I enter the Embarkation Room and see the severity of Dr. Jackson's wound, I no longer care. One of my people is badly hurt. Now I'm angry. This man is a civilian. He shouldn't be in a position to be injured. But his knowledge and unique abilities have already proved invaluable in our fight. We need him and others like him. So, I have been forced to re-evaluate the standards ingrained in me as a cadet. In this war there are no civilians.
I lay an encouraging hand on the young archeologist's shoulder before he is spirited away. Hoping my command face is in place, I turn to O'Neill. "Report."
Handing his weapon to the armory officer, O'Neill explains, "We were about five klicks from the Stargate when a Goa'uld mothership landed. We almost made it back undetected. Daniel was hurt dialing home."
I didn't reach the rank of general without losing soldiers under my command. Despite O'Neill's efforts to keep his voice dispassionate, I hear his pain. A pain I not only understand but feel myself, so deeply I almost miss O'Neill's next words.
"We were covering Daniel. Obviously we didn't do a very good job."
My lips part to disagree. The words go unspoken. They wouldn't help. Guilt goes hand-in-hand with the position, along with sleepless nights. "Dismissed, Colonel. Debriefing at 19:00."
O'Neill is out the door before I finish issuing the directive. I don't blame him. He is only doing what I want to do myself. It was my order that sent SG-1 to P6J-768. I am more responsible for Dr. Jackson's injury than his teammates.
Though it is difficult, I return to my office to fill out the endless forms each mission creates. My hand automatically signs my name as my eyes rest on the telephone. This has always been the hardest part of my job. Waiting. Wondering if I've sent another man to his death.
My hand stills when the phone finally rings. Though it is what I have been waiting for, I hesitate. I want to know Dr. Jackson's status. And I don't want to know. Ignorance can truly be bliss at times. I still remember the heartache when we believed Daniel Jackson was dead once before. Reliving the memory of those days is hard enough without repeating them.
The phone jangles insistently.
With a shaking hand, I lift the receiver. "Hammond."
"Daniel will be all right, General."
I barely hear the remainder of Dr. Fraiser's report. Relief has left me weak, barely able to retain my grip on the phone. Silence at the other end of the line penetrates the fog clouding my thoughts. Hoping my voice isn't revealing my feelings, I acknowledge, "Thank you, Doctor. Inform me immediately, if there is any change."
"Yes, sir."
Once the receiver is back in its cradle, I allow a sigh of relief to escape my lips. It's over. Until the next time. Who will it be then? O'Neill? Jackson again? Carter? Teal'c? Ferretti? Warren? Colburn? Will they - and I - be as lucky as Dr. Jackson was this time?
Even as the questions pound at the protective wall I've built, I rise. SG-8 is waiting in the conference room. Waiting for my orders to send them to an unknown planet. An unknown fate. Once again, I steel my heart. We are at war. This planet and its people - our very civilization and heritage need me to continue. Just as my teams must.
One day, this war will be over. We will prevail. Despite what happened in alternate universes, I have never doubted the outcome of our fight. My only regret is the cost. The names of the fine men and women who sacrifice their lives might never be known to the world, but they will never be forgotten by me.
© The characters mentioned in this story are the property of Showtime and Gekko Film Corp. The Stargate, SG-I, the Goa'uld and all other characters who have appeared in the series STARGATE SG-1 together with the names, titles and backstory are the sole copyright property of MGM-UA Worldwide Television, Gekko Film Corp, Glassner/Wright Double Secret Productions and Stargate SG-I Prod. Ltd. Partnership. This fanfic is not intended as an infringement upon those rights and solely meant for entertainment. All other characters, the story idea and the story itself are the sole property of the author.