Stargate SG1 Fan Fiction ❯ The Secret Life of a Major General ❯ Chapter 7 ( Chapter 7 )

Chapter 7

Tower Premier Suite, Luxor Hotel and Casino, Las Vegas, NV
April 14, 2005
Afternoon

The gleaming pyramid spearing towards the sky roused a touch of nostalgia in the alien parasite as it looked from its Tower suite at the familiar angular shape. It found the luxurious surroundings of this place tolerable for an individual of his exalted stature, the food passable, and service below par.

Of equal irritation was the unsuitable age of his current host body. He found it necessary at the moment to retain this host but was looking forward to occupying a much younger, fitter, and far more handsome male.

Taking a moment to amuse himself he jabbed the trapped mind of his host and thought quite deliberately about how he would not mind however taking the equally aged but much fitter and attractive body of O’Neill as host. O’Neill for his age would be quite suitable as a host for a god and would increase his status among his brethren exponentially.

He luxuriated in the indignant response from his host’s mind. His host after all found O’Neill quite intolerable and was outraged—even in the matter of being taken as a host—that it was O’Neill that was viewed as far superior.

Carelessly locking the now roused host mind back away, he turned from gazing through the window and strode smoothly to the couch. After seating himself, he lifted the cell phone from where he had left it on the coffee table.

The Tau’ri had such interesting and useful toys. He was quite looking forward once conquest of the human homeworld was complete to add much of them to his arsenal. But until that day he was quite happy to use their own technology to plot against them, in fact he relished it.

Entering the number and pressing send the phone rang precisely four times, as it always did, before a feminine voice answered in eloquent Goa’uld.

“<Line-daughter,>” he purred his greeting in Goa’uld. “<I have come across some intriguing information about O’Neill that I require more information on.>” He looked at the dossier and photographs spread across the coffee table. Yes, this host did have its advantages distastefully aged though he was. Like the long-standing surveillance of O’Neill that had continued even with the man’s move from Colorado to Virginia.

“<What information is that line-father?>” the young woman on the other end inquired.

“<O’Neill has recently become the father of two children.>”

“<You are correct, this information is intriguing.>” The implication was of course that beyond being ‘intriguing’ that it could be of great benefit to their cause. The two children after all were the proverbial ‘hostages to fate.’

“<I desire to know more about these children,>” he stated.

“<Of course line-father,>” came the agreement. “<Shall I email or fax the information to you?>”

“<Fax,>” he ordered. “<After I have time to read the documents I shall speak with you again.>”

“<Of course Lord Oceanus. I will have the preliminary report faxed to you by tomorrow afternoon.>”

As the two goa’ulds ended the telephone conversation Oceanus settled back into the comfortable cushions a self-satisfied smirk gracing his host’s features. Ah, she was such a dutiful line-daughter. And within such a pleasing host body as well.

Lieutenant Colonel Samantha Carter, recently reassigned from CO of SGC’s flagship team to Area 51’s research and development department, tossed her pencil down and leaned back in her chair. Her office and lab space were no longer the same, which had its advantages and disadvantages, but the most positive thing about her recent location was all the alien goodies she could get her hands on. Half the inventory secured here she had almost forgotten about, especially if it had been secured by any other team except SG-1.

The freedom to finally devote herself to her laboratory work was fantastic; the other good thing about the move was her availability to Cassie who was attending Las Vegas’s university. She refused to think about, or even look at, the securely locked drawer of her desk that held a black velvet ring box with its princess cut diamond solitary engagement ring.

When she looked at that ring sometimes she felt like she was under the same intensive pressure that it took to turn those carbon molecules into diamond lattice. An asphyxiating weight crushing down on her choices and was ending her life.

She did not allow herself to think about it most days. Most days it also did not occur to her because any possibility of her future changing was nonexistent. SG-1 as it had been did not exist anymore. The team that she had thought was bonded stronger than a family had proven only to be tied with gossamer threads.

Teal’c sat on the Free Jaffa Nation Council and led his people in their new freedom as he had always dreamed of doing. Daniel, while in weekly contact, was clearly consumed with his research about the Ancients and still snipping about being denied a position with the Atlantis Expedition when it had departed. As for General O’Neill, he was a distant superior officer who was at one time her commanding officer.

And the nebulous possibility that had tantalised her for the past seven years with a certain man had turned into nothing more than a fleeting allusion proving that her hallucination induced thoughts aboard Prometheus had been correct. She had used them, that is the situation and her feelings, as a crutch against living and engaging in a relationship with another man.

Picking her dropped pencil back up Sam shuttered those thoughts aside with practiced ease. Almost seven years worth of practice.

The plans for her wedding were halfway complete with five more months to go. The ceremony and reception site in Denver had been booked, the photographer chosen, her gown ordered, entertainment selected as well as florist and flowers. Currently she and Pete were debating between two different bakers for the wedding cake. Still to be decided upon was the wording of the wedding invitations, the ordering of her bridesmaids’ gowns, followed by booking transportation for the wedding, and mailing the invitations.

Thinking of the invitations, she jotted a quick note down to check how large Pete’s guest list had grown. She had less than thirty, Pete’s however seemed to be growing at an exponential rate and had been close to two hundred sixty last time she had communicated with his mother. She wondered if she could get him to cut out the people that were relatives so distant they were only seen every fifteen years for Shanahan family reunions and old friends from university that he had not seen or spoken with in the past ten years.

Sticking the note to her computer screen so she would not forget, as she often did about such tasks after becoming absorbed in her work, she turned her attention back to the figures streaming past on her computer screen. Adjusting a few more values of the simulator she let her mind be wholly absorbed into the world of math and engineering.