James hit the stop button, freezeframing the snow, stood slowly and turned the lights back up to full. He returned to his seat before anyone spoke."Is that all you've managed to get so far?" the colonel asked once she was certain that her voice was under control. She'd seen and heard many things during her career but that scream was still ringing through her head.
James nodded. "I'm afraid so. Whatever was used in the attack managed to totally scramble the electronic data files of the images. I thought these might give us more of an insight. Guess I was right."
"It certainly seems that way. Now, we know that they were definitely under attack, presumably from the natives. I think this gives us some more to work on."
She turned to her second in command. "Mark, I want you to take a second look at that computer programme, combine it with the data from the recording. Ascertain the direction of attack etc. It should give us a clearer picture of what happened out there.
Melissa, I want you to finish working that journal. Everything you can find on the natives. Anything that might show us what they used on SG-1. Give the medics something to work on.
James, keep on with the video. Join up with Mark and see if you can get us a working model of the attack. Dismissed."
The three stood and left, each heading back to their respective areas. King watched them leave and then made a decision. She was now even more sure of what could have occurred to SG-1, which, combined with what she had just seen and what she had read previously, would tie in with the medical data the doctor had accumulated. There was just one more thing she needed first. She moved to the phone on the other side and dialled.
Colonel King arrived at the Infirmary and was met by a tall man, stern faced looking man dressed in blue airforce uniform under a long white coat. He looked at the Colonel over the tops of his square glasses.
"Colonel King?"
"Yes. Dr. MacKenzie?"
"The very same. Pleased to meet you. Now then, how can I help?"
"As you are aware I am conducting an investigation into the occurences on P2X351 and I would like you to conduct a neurological examination on SG-1 for me. I understand that so far an assessment has not been carried out?"
"That is correct. We have a certain...history." MacKenzie smiled thinly and the Colonel wondered for a split second if this was the correct move. Just as quickly she dismissed the thought.
"I know. I've read the reports." If MacKenzie was surprised then he didn't show it. King gestured towards the door. "Shall we?"
They entered the Infirmary and King was almost surprised when Doctor Frasier failed to materialise. Seeing no-one was offering any resistance to their presence, the Doctor and the Colonel entered SG-1's room.
The room was filled with the steady beep of four hearts, amplified through the machinery monitoring the inert bodies lying there. Monitors were filled with squiggly lines and numbers alerting the medical staff to any changes in the condition of the patients. So far there was none. MacKenzie moved to the end of the first bed and picked up Colonel Jack O'Neill's chart before turning to the only other conscious person in the room.
"What exactly would you like to know, Colonel?" he asked
"Current psychological condition in your opinion. Possible diagnosis based on that condition. Anything else you feel may be relevant."
"Oh course." MacKenzie moved nearer to O'Neill's bed, pulled a penlight and taperecorder from his coat pocket and began his examination.
"Patient: Colonel Jack O'Neill. Patient is unconscious, unresponsive to pain...."
MacKenzie straightened from besides Sam’s bed and replaced the chart, making a few notes of his own on the pad he held. Then he turned back to King.
“Finished?”
“Yes. I’ll be able to give you my report within the hour.”
“What is your preliminary diagnosis?” King asked. “Do you agree?”
“Your assessment of the situation certainly appears correct at this time,” MacKenzie agreed.
“However, It is still necessary for me to review my findings in light of all the data available to date. As I said I should be able to give you my full report within the hour.”
“Thank you. I look forward to reading it.” MacKenzie nodded and made his way from the room. As he did so, he saw a familiar figure walking in his direction.
“Doctor MacKenzie, what are you doing here?” Janet Frasier asked, certain she knew the answer and equally certain she was not going to like it.
“I was asked to run a neurological examination on SG-1. There were concerns that one had not already been conducted.”
“That information is none of your concern. Who authorised the exam?”
“I did, Doctor.” Frasier span on her heel and saw the Colonel leaning against the infirmary wall.
Seeing her attention was no longer on him, the psychiatrist made his escape. Behind him, third world war loomed.
“What gives you the right to interfere in the care of MY patients?” Janet was seething. The Colonel was infuriating.
“I deemed it necessary to complete my task and ascertain what occurred to SG-1 on P2X351. I now believe I have that answer and that Doctor MacKenzie’s analysis will merely confirm what I already suspect.”
“You should have cleared it with me first. They are under my care.”
“And you were obstructing my investigation. Therefore I did what I had to do. The rest is none of your concern.”
“It is if it affects those in my department. And that currently covers SG-1.”
“As does my mission, Doctor. Now if you will excuse me I have other matters to attend to.”
She left leaving Frasier to watch her temper barely restrained. Instead she stormed into the infirmary and headed straight for her office. As she did so she saw Doctor Warner moving in her direction.
“I thought you were going home,” he asked, falling into step beside her.
“I was, but I remembered I’d forgotten something so I figured I’d come back. Good job I did as well. I saw MacKenzie with that Colonel from SGI. She had the gall to inform me that I was interferingwith her investigation into what happened to SG-1 on '351. Can you believe her?” She looked up, saw the look on the Chief Surgeon’s face, and smiled suddenly. “I’m ranting again, aren’t I?”
Warner nodded. “’Fraid so.”
“Sorry. I know she has a job to do, she just gets on my nerves.”
“I know how you feel.” The two laughed and Janet found herself at the door to her office.
“Suppose I should do some work now I’m here. I can always grab a few hours later. Why don’t you go home get some rest. I’m sure you’re wife would love to see you.”
“You’re probably right,” he assented. “I’ll see you in eight hours.”
“Actually, could you cover my shift at the Academy Hospital. I really should stay here and…”
“Yeah, I can cover for you. Just let the general know not to have any major incidents that require my expertise while I’m away.”
The two medics laughed again and Warner disappeared, leaving Frasier alone with her staff, her paper work, and her thoughts.
Melissa sat at her desk, desperately trying to figure out the translation in Daniel Jackson’s Journals. She’d managed most of it but she was tired and the words were beginning to blur through the pages. She’d already moved from her temporary quarters on level eleven to Daniel’s in the hope that they may give her some clue.
She turned her chair away from the desk at which she was working to face the two metal bookshelves lining the opposite wall, filled with every conceivable book. And still she wasn’t sure of the translation. What she had certainly made no sense. The rest she’d given to Mark in the hope it made some sense when combined with the digital video recording and the computer simulation of the events occurring on 351.
Melissa turned back and reading the passage again, absently reached for the coffee-pot. She looked up when she realised it was empty. She stifled a yawn and decided to go and find some more. If she failed she could always go back to her quarters and get a few hours sleep. If the passage didn’t bug her all night, that was. Picking up the coffeepot, Melissa headed for the Commissary.
Wandering the halls of the SGC was a calming experience for the linguist but instead of finding the Comissary, Melissa found herself in the Stargate Observation room. It was the first time she'd been there and she watched as people in white coats and blue airforce uniforms moved around the array of computers and monitors, taking readouts and checking systems. In the room below, a large model glider sat on a pod.
As Melissa watched, a woman near the huge window leaned over the tannoy and announced clearly "Preparing to activate the Gate. Stand clear!"
In the room below people moved back behind the big yellow and black line and the huge inner ring of the Stargate began to turn ponderously before locking into place and then continuing like a giant combination lock.
"Chevron One encoded" announced the same voice.
People scurried around the room, checking the computers and the large contraption in the gate room. The Gate continued to spin.
"Chevron Six encoded. Start the UAV"
A flare fired from the back of what Melissa guessed was the UAV and the ring made its final turn.
"Chevron seven encoded and locked."
At that moment a spinning column of water shot from the center of the ring almost reaching the yellow and black line on the floor before receding back to form a shimmering water like mirrored surface.
The UAV's engine roared and then flew free of its moorings, straight for the mirror and disappeared through it. People in the room moved to watch its progress on a clear gridded chart, similar to those used to track ships by the navy.
"UAV should reach destination in 3, 2, 1 second"
All heads turned to a monitor and the images from the UAV appeared. A second monitor began to fill with scrolling numbers and letters. Then, downstairs the mirror disappered like a bubble bursting, leaving only an view of the grey back wall of the concrete wall.
Melissa stood transfixed watching the activity. In the gate room, people were moving again, wheeling in a second UAV, measuring the gate for radiation. It took her a moment to remember that she had her own work to attend to and the growling in her stomach reminded her that she still needed food.
This time she found the commissary and filled up the pot in her hand with the strongest source of instant caffeine available. Groups of SG personnel came and went and for a while Melissa found herself watching, giving her mind time to rest. While she was sitting there, a group of four, dressed in fatigues came in and flopped beside one of the vacant tables.
One of the team stretched back shoulders and ran a hand through the short military haircut. “I can’t wait to get to R39PAY. Sounds like it should be a nice, quiet mission for once. How long till we go?”
Another of the team answered. “About three hours the Major reckons. The whizz kids are playing around, seeing if they can open the gate for longer than before. Soon as the Gate’s charged again though, we’re outta here.”
The group chatted some more. As she listened, something about the translation nagged at her brain. Something she’d seen but missed. Then it hit her. "Of Course." Four heads turned in her direction and Melissa realised she’d spoken out loud. “Sorry,” she whispered, picked up her coffee and scurried out of the Commissary.
An hour after she'd first left, Melissa reached the door to Daniel Jackson's office. Having now taken time to eat as well as refill her coffee pot, she felt refreshed enough to restart work on that elusive passage. She opened the door and headed straight for the desk. As she reached it however something caught her eye. She moved around the corner of the desk and screamed.
The body lay on the floor, unmoving, blue eyes staring unblinkingly at nothing. Melissa backed away shakily, her whole body trembling, until she felt the table edge behind her knees. Still staring at the body, she felt along the edge for the phone. Only then did she turn her back on the figure.
"Hello? This is Dr. Thomas. I'm in Doctor Jackson's office. I need a medical team here, now. Please hurry."
Then she turned back to the room. Cautiously she moved toward the prone figure, trying to ignore the staring eyes, and reached down to check for the pulse she was sure wasn't there. She almost jumped out of her skin when she felt it thudding gently beneath her fingers. He was still alive then, she thought. But what was he doing on her floor? Convinced he wasn't going anywhere she began to check the room. Then she noticed the journal on the desk. She'd left it open when she'd gone for coffee. Now the page she had been working on was covered in red pen. She was about to investigate further when she heard sounds behind her. She turned and found herself face to face with SGC's chief medic.
"What happened?" the woman asked even as she was bending down over the man on the floor. Others began to fill the room including Colonel King who scanned the scene and went straight to Melissa.
"What happened here, Doctor?" she demanded.
Melissa shook her head. "I have no idea. I went for coffee and something to eat and when I came back he was here. I don't know what happened. Is he okay?"
Janet straightened from her examination, gestured to the orderlies to remove the patient and faced the SGI team.
"Daniel appears to be in the same state as before. Unresponsive, catatoinc. How he ended up here I have no idea."
"That's Daniel Jackson?" Melissa was shocked. She turned back to the journal on the desk. "Then that's who it was. But how did he manage that?"
The two women looked at Melissa.
"Manage what Mel? Are you okay?" King's voice was softer than usual, blying her concern for her colleague, and reminding Janet of a certain other Colonel's reaction to a certain other linguist.
Melissa turned back and held up the journal.
"This. When I left, I was stuck on this passage. Now its been translated although the writing is a little shaky. There's also no reason for me to have written this either."
The text on the page was certainly incongrous
Help us "What are you suggesting?" Janet asked
Melissa shook her head. "I'm not sure. But I think this was written by Daniel."
"That's impossible. Daniel's condition is unchanged. How he got here is a mystery but he couldn't have written that message. Perhaps someone is playing a joke? Either way, I have to get back to the infirmary. I have patients to check. Good day." And with that she was gone leaving Melissa with King.
"You think I'm crazy as well, don't you, Lise?" Melissa sank into the chair.
King watched her for a moment. "I don't think you're crazy Mel. I just think the idea of a catatonic patient writing Help Us in a diary is a little farfetched. Perhaps it was already there? Maybe its part of the passage. I don't know. What I do know is its late, you're tired. Maybe you translated it and forgot or something. Why don't you get some sleep and we'll check again in the morning."
Melissa nodded. She knew her CO was making sense but it didn't get rid of the nagging feeling that something very weird was going on at the base. However she took her CO's advice and tried to get some sleep.
Lisa King watched her colleague move to the bed. Something about the scenario didn't fit but she was damned if she could figure it out. A glance at her watch showed her the time was ten to one in the morning. Shut-eye was the only thing on the agenda for now.
"Be in the breifing room at 08:00 hours and we can discuss this further."
A muffled reply came from the bed. Satisfied that Mel would sleep, Lisa headed for her own quarters.
Next morning, SGI, General Hammond and Janet Frasier sat at the briefing table in the observation room. Hammond finished reading the papers on the desk, raised his head and looked at the faces around the table. Then he turned to the Colonel.
"So how are your investigations going?"
"Slowly sir. Lieutenant Maxwell has managed to retrieve most of the data from the recording made by Daniel Jackson. So far we can't tell if they did anything to upset the locals, but they definitely came under some kind of attack. As a result of this and other medical evidence I've concluded that Sg-1 are most probably suffering some form of post traumatic stress disorder. Major Connor is setting up a computer simulation based on the events of the video and the medical data we have accumulated. Hopefully it should generate some more data on the kind of weapon, direction of attack..."
Hammond nodded. "Good. Now then, will someone also explain to me the events that occurred last night. Doctor Jackson was found on the floor of his office. Is that correct?"
Janet looked up. "Yes sir. He was catatonic, slightly hypothermic and unresponsive. He still hasn't made any sign of recovery."
"Then how the hell did he get there?"
"The only answer is that he was put there for some reason."
"Or he walked." All heads turned to Melissa who, until that point, had been sitting quietly.
"Explain yourself!"
"Well sir, when I left, I was working on a particular passage of the text in Jackson's journal. I went for coffee. When I came back, someone had completed the translation and written the words "HELP US". Daniel Jackson was on the floor"
"And what makes you think Daniel walked there?"
"Sir, its Daniel's handwriting. I compared it to several other passages in the journal. I also saw him this morning in the infirmary. He has pen marks on his hand from holding a pen."
"Do you agree with Dr Thomas's assessment?"
King answered first. "Well as much as it raises interesting questions, I don't think Doctor Jackson got into the office under his own steam. I also think it highly unlikely, given his current condition, that he could have completed the task described. So no, I think there is another explanation."
"I have to agree with the Colonel on this one sir. There is no way that Daniel managed to get out of the infirmary and to his office under his own steam."
"Very well. Doctor, I want you to post a guard on SG-1. If there is someone out there moving bodies, I want to know about it. SGI, keep up the work and keep me informed. Dismissed."