In The Shadow Of Lilith 3
Lt Gavins Gets Coffee
by Jase
URL: http://www.area52hkh.net/asj/jase/ifyoul03.php
Summary: Mitchell & Jackson the remaining members of SG-1 are on their last mission. With stalwart USMC LT. Chris Gavins, they find a sinister temple and a mysterious panel set in an altar
Lieutenant Chris Gavins had taken the all balls (midnight 00:00) to 0200 shift at the camps forward observation point, just on the periphery of the sizzle of light that basked the camp. It was something he had always done when in command, taken the worst shift at the most critical section. A Marine officer generally left that sort of thing to their Sergeants, and Chris had been a Sergeant. During the Ori conflict, he'd worked his way up the chain of command the old fashioned way, by kicking the enemy's ass and making him wish he'd stayed home with his momma.
The officer rank was earned through his front line action, something Marines rarely did, but, the Air Force more or less set the rules. And the Air Force handed out shoulder bling like it was candy, but Gavins understood the whys and bore the handicap stalwartly. Just because he was saddled with the rank, didn't mean he suddenly became someone else. As far as USMC Second Lieutenant Chris Gavins was concerned, he would lead his Marines as he always had, from the front.
Gavins was not a heroic figure, neither tall (five foot nine) nor broad shouldered, he blended in with crowds, like Walter Mitty with a Marine Corp buzz hair style. His demeanor was quiet, often mistaken for shy. He possessed wide grey eyes set in a fine boned faced helped that illusion along, he liked that people underestimated him. It was a tactical advantage but a disability on occasion.
Troops that knew him called him "The Hawk"behind his back and if he *had* known he would have been pleased. During the wait before a covert drop onto an Ori occupied planet, one Kentucky corporal was filling the new meat in on their Gunny. (Gunnery Sergeant, Marine Corps rank)
"Ya'll watch him! He's like a hovering hawk. You think he's not there but them eyes of his don miss a trick. These Moral Orals (Ori) think they ain't been spotted, then 'whooosh', 'The Hawk' will drop us on their mutherfuckin haids and there's nothing left but skid marks." Bright grins made savage by camo paint flash around. "Trus me boys,ain't nothing gets past The Hawk."
***
During this long, strange night Gavins had not only watched the perimeter, but Colonel Mitchell as well. He had been watching Mitchell since the team had gotten to the planet.
Before, when his platoon of Marines had been sent out to "babysit" it had been a milk run each time, nothing like the hard driving combat against the zealot Ori forces. Yes, there had been some mop ups, and the occasional pockets of humans who were in thrall to some minor Gou'ald taking advantage of the fall of the system lords to set up a petty kingdom. Hard combat, that was behind him now, because of a gas attack. He'd gotten his mask on a moment too late, and his lungs had been damaged. He needed to take steroidal inhalers to keep his lungs open, on occasion now only that. He was one of the lucky ones. Because of his sterling career record General Landry saw to it he was kept on, and began assigning him to science missions. This mission, he had the opportunity to see how the icons of the SGC did things, and he wasn't disappointed in his observations.
Mitchell was easy to get on with, fighter jocks were usually an elitist bunch all high nerves and fast lip. Generally they retired to something else by 35, and to see one leading a ground team, at Mitchell's age was unheard of, except at the SGC.
One difficulty that Gavins had encountered was the cat and dog relationship that went on between the science teams and the military personnel that were assigned to them. They tended to gravitate towards their own kind, having no external pressure like combat to bring them together as a unit. These groups were different from the regular SG teams, who had their own specialties. Eventually personnel would be culled from these loose "milk run" groups for SG Team placement.
Gavins wanted nothing more than to be on a team, preferably commanding. Unlike many who felt that with the "re-assignment" of SG-1 and the IOA bureaucracy taking a greater hand in things that the pioneer days of the Gate missions were over, Gavins believed there was always more out there. It was, after, an infinite universe.
He watched how well Dr. Jackson and Col. Mitchell interacted, besides the camaraderie there was the depth of shared experiences that honed their mutual respect. So, he used SG-1's caution regarding the temple as an excuse to assign military bodyguards to the scientists.
"I will hold you each accountable for the well being of your assigned team member. You will treat them with all the respect of a combat buddy, help them in any way you can and if necessary, guard them with your lives. We need them to figure out what is going on here, and they can't do that if *you* are the threat." He told his Marines in his quiet voice, grey eyes meeting those of each individual. He was very pleased when his plan worked.
Through the night, Mitchell walked the camp, seemingly alert, with a quiet friendly word to the troops up and manning the defensive line. Gavins would have done the same, only he didn't wish to risk being ordered to bed. By the time his shift at the forward post was finished, Gavins noticed that Mitchell was moving stiffly, and realized that the man might need his help in the morning. In his sleeping bag in the barracks tent, Gavins, like many an experienced soldier, fell into sleep quickly, but not before he noted the guardian shadow passing over the tent wall.
***
Mitchell watched Jackson at the hot water dispenser and was glad he'd smuggled several boxes of the Starbuck's instant coffee mix along. Being able to slam down that much brew without need to sit on the can three times a day was apparently one of the good Doctor's inherent talents. Of course, living off MRE's did help slow things down. Mitchell had finished a while ago, somewhere around their discussion on speculating what the IOA would and wouldn't allow them to do. In the few moments' silence, Mitchell watched Jackson putzing with the coffee and tiptoed his mind around the idea that Jackson was agreeing to live with him. Nope. Couldn't grasp it. He swallowed hard. He remembered this feeling. Last time he had it was in the final high security briefing where he found out the special space project he was about to be involved in included starfighters and alien battles. Come to think of it...this was bigger. He was almost relieved at the scratching of the tent flap being pulled aside. It was Gavins.
"Good morning Sir, Doctor Jackson...am I interrupting anything?" Gavins stepped easily into the tent with an empty canteen cup in his hand, clear eyed and clean shaven, and way too quiet spoken to be a jar-head, in Mitchell's opinion.
"Nope, better get in here before Doctor Jackson hogs all the hot water."
A snort from Jackson."Besides, you're just the fella we need to talk to this morning."
Gavins dug out an olive drab packet of MRE coffee, and Mitchell frowned.
"Hold on." He said, digging into a cargo pocket and hauling out the Starbuck's packet, holding it out to Gavins who replied with an enthused,
"Thank you Sir."
"Doctor Jackson and I were discussing the temple, and that panel in the altar."
"You're going to upgrade the mission status and request for science level SG teams to come in then Sir?'
It was a statement, not a question, but Gavins kept his face schooled as Daniel answered. This would mean his troops being sent back, after only a day in the field.
"Well...we would have to, wouldn't we? We'd need full environmental precautions...that means med-science teams."
"We'd also like for you to stay on, and any of your troops you might recommend."Mitchell added. Gavins head snapped up, his eyes intense but otherwise contained, he was well aware of the opportunity he was being offered. They were upping this mission to a level two classification, which would bring him a step closer to being on an SG team of his own.
"Sir, Doctor Jackson...I would be honored, although I'm not sure of your reasons why."
Cameron had told Jackson what Gavins troops had revealed about the lieutenant's history, and what they thought of him. Personally Daniel felt Mitchell was identifying with the Lieutenant, decorated, injured and kept on at the SGC. Cam had allowed that yes; Daniel could be right on that, but it didn't change that fact that the man was damn good at his job.
Daniel answered, "Let's just say, we like your style...and let it go at that?"Gavins, never one to look a gift horse in the mouth nodded and blew on his coffee.
"I'm going to need a good XO(Second in command),if this turns into an ExP2 Mission(Exploration level2). The logistics around here are going to get pretty constipated pretty damn quick. We're going to have to tear down the whole camp and throw it back up again fast. I'll need your Marines to set up for a full processing area, decon, the works."
"Don't worry, we'll help you plan the lay out."Daniel sipped at his coffee, "But first, we need to talk to the SGC."
"Let's wait until 0730, Tottington likes his breakfast." Mitchell turned as Marines filed in, some of them with their "lab partners". When the breakfast cavalcade spotted Mitchell and Jackson it collectively paused, then Mitchell called out loudly "Carry on!"
Catching Gavins eye and jerked his head towards the door, and as he went out he muttered, "Damn. You'd think I had a reputation as a cannibal or something."
"I don't see why you would." Daniel's voice was deceptively innocent.
"You haven't zatted anyone in oh...at least a week."
One of the scientists squeaked in alarm, and not a few eyes went wide.
Cam snorted and once they were out of ear shot, said "You're a hypocrite Jackson, warning me off tree ferrets then saying that."
Daniel gave him is best innocent smile as they paused looking towards the temple, and the sun coming up behind it.
"It's on a straight line from the gate, east to west." murmured Gavins, "As is the only clear roadway that we've found. Well, it would have been clear once?" Jackson looked at him in surprise, ignoring the 'I told ya so.' smirk on Mitchell's face.
"Many cultures used an east to west layout for holy places...good observation on the roadway Lieutenant."
"Thank you Sir, I know churches used to build east to west, some still do. Ori were rabid about facing the sun. As far as the road goes," Wry grin, and "Sir, you don't live long in combat if you don't watch where you step." His grey eyes wandered back to the temple top, and then he turned towards the gate.
"Imagine what this would have looked like cleared." He mused, almost to himself. "The right time of year, the sun would come up like a fiery halo around the black top of that temple. Like the sun behind the pylon in the movie '2001'. Anyone standing at the Gate would get a hell of a view." The three men paused, picturing it.
"Doctor Jackson, why no other buildings? This temple was so important that they brought in all that black stone from another planet, according to Doctor Sadotra...the geologist, and there's no sign of even wooden buildings."
"You really paid attention to what the scientists said didn't you?" Daniel inquired, looking pleased.
"No Doctor Jackson. I ordered my Marines to, and then I asked them to report on what their assigned science team member discovered." Gavin took the surprised silence to drink his coffee while it was still warm.
The dawn air had a chill to it, and mist lay thick in the hollows between the Gate and the tree line that concealed the temple. It was a pretty scene, reminding him of the farm country in Wisconsin where he grew up. Unfortunately, the damp air was making his lungs tighten, usually strong coffee would stave off any bronchial spasms, but, it seemed, not this morning. It was coming on so quickly, that if he excused himself, it would create a bigger fuss.
"Well. I honestly don't know what to say Lieutenant. Except maybe that I am impressed... Are you all right?" Daniel stepped forward and took the coffee from the younger man as he began to cough harshly into his elbow, digging into his lower over blouse pocket and bringing out a purple disk. He took a hit off the inhaler, then waited a moment, still coughing, then took another.
Both Mitchell and Jackson stood close, consternation on their faces.
As the horrid quivering spasms stopped Gavins looked up, plainly discomfited, "Ori gas attack." Both men winced, they'd seen the aftermath of the chemical attacks used by the Ori. On Earth chemical attacks were brutal due to the crudity of the weapons, the Ori deliberately created horrific and painful weapons.
Gavins, embarrassed, straightened his uniform and looked around to see if he was spotted by any of his Marines. Mitchell was looking at the Commo tent, then at his watch, and Dr Jackson handed him his coffee without comment, for which he was grateful.
"We've got about two hours before morning report. Jackson, why don't you see what 'your lot' is thinking, Gavins and I will scout out the best way to rebuild this place."
"IF we get the green light that is." Jackson was heading off towards the cluster of people who were setting up a field table to eat at. Most of the science team would be there grimacing at the MRE pouches.
***
"Colonel, why wouldn't they green light a status upgrade?" Gavins pulled PDA out of a cargo pocket.
"It's not the upgrade, it what we want to have along *with* the upgrade."
They began their walk down hill, past the perimeter of the camp. Early that morning, the last watch shift had retrieved the claymores. Every so often the two men stopped and assessed the lay of the land, with Gavins taking notes and sketching on occasion. Before they headed into the tree line, Mitchell had him radio for a squad of armed Marines, and they made their way back to the temple area.
"They'll dig in a perimeter, most likely." Mitchell squinted at the monolith, shifting the P90 the Marines had brought him, "And if they have any sense, they'll use a MALP to pull the panel."
"Could it do that Sir? I mean, MALPS aren't too prehensile."
"Nope, they'll probably send Jackson in, with a canary and a crow bar to loosen it up. Like back in the bad old days." Gavins smiled politely.
"All right, they'll send in a science team first, in full environmentals, to shift it loose, then back them off and use the MALP to pull the panel off."
Gavins nodded, then asked the question he had been saving up,
"Sir, why all the fuss?" Mitchell's face turned grim.
"The Gou'ald were always looking for ways to get an advantage over each other. Once they put a naquadah bomb in a kid and killed off her people with plague just so we would bring her to Earth. They developed sized robots; nanites, that would alter DNA. SG-1 ran across an entire population infected with nanites that aged so fast a baby born one day was running and walking the next. General O'Neill got infected with the damn things, they nearly lost him."
"But...why??" Gavins could see no tactical advantage in such an experiment, and Mitchell shrugged
"Just to see what would happen. Who knows? The Gou'ald that set up the experiment abandoned it after he got his data." Mitchell nodded with his chin, towards the temple. "This reminds Jackson an awful lot of that set up." Gavins stared at the temple with patent horror, and Mitchell was sure it was a rare sight.
"Roll em out Gavins, we've got to phone home." Swallowing hard, and slightly pale, Gavins gave the order to move out, glancing back over his shoulder at least once.
***
On computer screen, Tottington looked as crisp as ever, and if he had been in show business, he would have been typecast as the dependable British hero. Slim, trim with a neat mustache that would have fit in a World War Two movie, he was a clear headed fellow who had come up the ranks in the RAF and then transferred to U.N.I.T. under Homeworld Security. The night before, SG-1 had transmitted all the data they had through, sent samples of 'damn near everything' (Mitchell's words) through the Gate for analysis.
"Good morning gentlemen, I trust you had a mild night?" Tottington's voice was a constant pleasant tenor. "After viewing the photographs of that statue, I can fathom why you chose a base camp closer to the Gate; I doubt I would rest easy under that harridan's gaze."
"Yes Sir, about the 'harridan' in question. Have there been any hits?"Mitchell leaned over Jackson's shoulder, into the web cameras range, automatically Daniel shifted to one side to make room.
Tottington shuffled papers glancing down, he'd read them of course, but he did not wish to paraphrase,
"Yes, well, let's start closest to home shall we?" Tottington did not like to delegate when it came to SG-1. In his book, these men deserved his personal attention and whenever possible, support. Besides, he was perfectly capable of reading a paper, despite the hardcopy transmission of the information that had gone through that morning.
Gavins' information had been correct; the black stone was brought in from offworld, cut with some form of laser or melting device. The surrounding forest bore no traces of humans living in it, no fossilized remains, no metal fragments or carbon in the soil indicating cooking. No indications of infectious material in any of the samples. The samples taken from the statue were chilling, human bones at least 200 years old, and the breakdown of the digital image showed at it was made from the fragments of more than a million bones.
"As far as the statue is concerned," Tottington looked down, his movements slightly jerky on the web cam as packets were lost in transmission.
" Area 51 reports no hits, although...General O'Neill did send a personal comment on the file." One eyebrow hiked high and reading off the paper, "Don't eat the cake." then looked back to the screen.
He had expected that it was some sort of private joke from SG-1's former commander, and was therefore surprised to see Mitchell and Jackson exchanging a grim look.
"Gentlemen?"
Jackson answered, "He's referring to the mission to P3X-8596 Sir, and I have it cross referenced in our initial report."
Tottington scanned the papers in front of him rapidly.
"Ah, yes, that's how the General was infected. So even without conclusive data (when Tottington said it the word came out 'datar') it seems General O'Neill shares your caution."
"The temple set up is similar enough to bring it to mind General. Umm. what word from U.N.I.T. and Torchwood?"
"Nothing that contradicts the current findings and no recognition either, although Captain Harkness did send his regards."
Disappointment showed on Daniel's face "I'm afraid we're going to have to do this the hard way." then began searching his cargo pants pockets.
"Sir, stand by for transmission of mission status change request, plus personnel and equipment requirements." Mitchell leaned forward stiffly, wincing a bit as Daniel plugged a flash drive into the laptop, and a few moments later Tottington looked as though he had bitten into something bitter.
"I will begin the authorization process."Tottington's eyes were on the request form, and there was a hound dog worry creasing his usually mild face.
"We figured it take some time, Sir. We'll use it to reconfigure the camp layout." Tottington looked up and nodded.
"Very good Colonel."
"And Sir...if you talk to Harkness any time soon, tell him he still owes me for that poker game." Tottington looked bemusedly at the screen, where Mitchell's face had an ear to ear grin. Tallying up what he knew about Harkness, and the American hero good looks of the Colonel, Tottington came to all the wrong conclusions, but merely hiked up one eyebrow and said.
"I'll be sure to send on your regards, Colonel, SGC out."
"Basecamp PK-15832 SG-1, out."
***
Mitchell sent Gavins to get the tear down started, and Jackson seemed a bit anxious to talk to him alone for a moment as they strolled off to the side of the sudden flurry of purposeful looking activity. Jackson looked pensive as he watched, but Cam waited, knowing...eventually, that Jackson would say what was on his mind. His worries about IOA involvement, the possibility of all this fuss being for nothing, the ominous statue, the
"Poker game?" Daniel turned his head slightly to look at Cam one eyebrow down the other high up and twitching. Mitchell's mouth worked but no sounds came out. Daniel's comment had done the mental equivalent of throwing a car in reverse when it was hurtling along at 180 mph. Daniel blithely ignored him and continued,
"As far as I know...from rumor, mind you, Harkness prefers strip poker, and..um *at this Daniel scratched the back of his neck* is impossible to beat?"
By this time Mitchell's train of thought untangled itself from the 12 car pileup it had gotten into and he was able to speak, sort of.
"What? No...um..NO!...It was regular poker and he's lousy at it. I'd never..Daniel..." Mitchell went sotto voce and adamant "Daniel...I'd never...Harkness? HAIL no...that guy does anything with a pulse..."
"You...um...have a pulse. I've checked." Daniel's smile was pleasant, and his gaze flicked up and down Mitchell's form, and Mitchell's speech center crashed again.
"I'm just saying...in case you two have a rematch." Daniel took a deep breath, shrugged and flashed the innocent smile that signaled demonic glee, "I'd like to watch." and stood there a moment with that smile as Mitchell speechlessly blushed. With a *my work here is done* sigh Dr. Jackson turned his back on Cam and wandered back towards the tents. It wasn't nice baiting Cam that way, but...gosh...it was FUN. Now, during every non-critical moment, Cam would be thinking of ways to convince him that there wasn't anything going on with the infamous Jack Harkness. Daniel had full faith that Cam could prioritize critical issues and this teasing wouldn't affect the mission at all.
