A subsonic Gulfstream jet was the best they could do? John hesitated. "Sir, due respect, but don't we have a couple of jumpers available to us?"
"Not for this. I don't know what would be worse-an Ancient spacecraft showing up on radar and triggering a defensive response, or an Ancient spacecraft not showing up on radar and causing a midair collision. Given Major Lorne's recent encounter with the inhabitants of M1M-316, we have to consider the latter a serious possibility. And I don't even want to think about trying to hide the damned thing on base at Balad." As if anticipating John's next question, Landry continued, "The Odyssey's too far out of range, and her current mission's too important for her to return to beam you over. Also, all your movements while in country will have to be coordinated through Central Command, and you'd better believe they'd notice ifyou just appeared without having been on a recognized transport. They've got more important things to do over there than deal with our smoke and mirrors."
So they'd be on an aircraft-a cushy VIP aircraft, but still-for most of a day instead of making the trip almost instantaneously. "Understood, sir."
Rebecca put away her phone then, still looking rocked. "Can I assume that was our boss?" the General asked her pleasantly.
When she responded with a wordless nod, he smiled. "The IOA may have jurisdiction over the Stargate, but when it comes to federal employees such as yourself, the President still calls the shots. Before he rang your phone, he spoke to the Director of the FBI. Responsibility for the investigation into this cult has been transferred to the Air Force under section 11 C9 of the National Security Act. As such, Agent Larance, you have been temporarily assigned to the Stargate program."
"Welcome to the family," John couldn't resist telling her. "We've got matching outfits and everything."
The profiler fired off a disbelieving glare in his direction and quickly banished it again before turning back to Landry. "General, if I'm going overseas with your people, I'll at least need to stop by my home in D.C. for my passport."
"Not an issue," the SGC's commander assured her. "You'll be traveling on military orders; BaladAir Base doesn't have a customs checkpoint. Your Bureau ID will do fine. Someone's gone to your hotel to pick up your luggage, so it will be waiting for you on the plane."
Offering a cautious smile, she said, "I'm guessing those matching outfits won't be black suits and sunglasses. Do I at least get one of those handheld flashy things to wipe bystanders' memories?"
John had to give Rebecca Larance credit. In the span of a few hours her view of the world and her life's work had been run through a blender. Not many people could accept that so quickly. Yet here she was, trying her damnedest to roll with the punches.
"Only people with naquadah traces in their blood can operate hand devices," Jackson replied absently, opening and closing desk drawers in search of something unknown to the rest of them.
Rebecca stared at him for a long moment, apparently trying to evaluate whether or not to take the comment seriously. Shaking her head, she asked Landry, "Why Iraq? None of the murders have taken place there."
"We have reason to think otherwise." The General stepped out into the hall. "Dr. Jackson will explain on the way. A car's waiting for the three of you topside to take you over to Peterson. Wheels up in two hours."
"Yes, sir," John said, just for good measure. Landry was already halfway down the corridor.
When John glanced back, he found Rebecca giving him a piercing look, arms folded across her chest. Her foot wasn't exactly tapping, but the demand for an explanation was broadcast loud and clear. "Hey, I just work here," he claimed, backing out of the office himself. "And I'm supposed to go give Dr. Lam some blood samples before we take off, so I need to stop by the infirmary. I'll meet you guys topside."
Her voice followed him down the hall. "Still a firm believer in avoidance, John?"
He winced. Trapped on an airplane with a shrink who knew his file. They'd better have plenty of mission-related topics to discuss, or this had the potential to be a very long trip.
Chapter eleven
"So," Elizabeth said. "Safety assessment?"
We can make it work, ma'am." Major Lorne delivered the textbook definition of a military response.
Rodney suspected the officer would have given the same decisive answer if asked to scale the city's central tower using dental floss and a soupspoon. Across the table, Teyla and Ronon were nodding. Naturally.
"The animals won't be able to bother us inside the Ancient lab if we can stay shielded, which Dr. Zelenka says is no problem," Lome finished.
"In order to gain access we will match the force field frequency of the jumper to that of the laboratory," Radek put in. "No different from shield modulations we have achieved in the past."
Rodney was anxious to move on. "I'll accept your word on the accessibility of the structure, against my better judgment. More important, in my opinion, is a protocol to prevent any more of those reptiles-"
"They're not reptiles," Geisler put in.
Whatever. "Those fleet-footed menaces from coming back through the gate with us. Every gate activation from MIM316 needs to be preceded by a life signs sweep with a radius of at least two hundred yards."
"Five hundred," Ronon countered. "They may have gone home willingly last time, but those guys were smart and fast."
Hearing the Satedan err on the side of caution was unusual. Disconcerting, too. "Five, then." Rodney looked to the expedition's leader for approval.
"Agreed. Let's consider adding that protocol to our standard procedure for travel to worlds of this type. And yes, I realize that the `standard procedure' lists keep getting longer and longer." Elizabeth rested her elbow on the table and pinched the bridge of her nose. "Are we ever going to reach a point where all our guidelines and safeguards actually become sufficient to protect us?"
"When we have learned all there is to learn about this galaxy," Radek answered. "At which point there will be nothing more that can surprise us-and nothing more to discover."
Cheery thought. "Once we arrive on the planet, we'll need to secure the gate area there as well," Rodney stated. "Not to put too fine a point on this, but I prefer to minimize my risk of being mauled by a dinosaur while coming or going."
"Bailey's team is up on the rotation," said Lorne. "Two of his guys are qualified on the AT4."
And the fact that Rodney recognized `AT4' as the designation for a rocket launcher was a testament to how wildly his life had detoured since his first doctorate.
"Three jumpers, then." Elizabeth inclined her head in agreement. "Major, you and Rodney can split a security team between you and fly the first two jumpers to the Ancient facility. The third will stay with Lieutenant Bailey's team near the gate."
Rodney hadn't failed to notice Geisler's eager expression. Apparently neither had Elizabeth, because she next turned to him. "You should go as well, Doctor. With the activities of the cult on Earth escalating, the IOA has identified the investigation of Lilith's research as our top priority. We need as much expertise as possible on this mission."
So Rodney would get to play chauffeur this time. That always went swimmingly. Although he sincerely doubted that any research on Geisler's beloved lizards could help illuminate Lilith's work, he didn't particularly care who tagged along to Ml M-316.Of course it would have been nice to have Colonel Lite-Brite around to activate any recalcitrant Ancient tech that refused to recognize Rodney's artificially triggered gene, but someone seemed to think Sheppard was needed more on Earth. In Iraq, of all places. That certainly sounded like an inspired distribution of resources. He also felt certain the decision had not been entirely based upon the Colonel's prior experience in the Middle East, nor on the presence of the attractive and somewhat disturbing FBI agent.