Disclaimer Stargate Sg-1 and its characters are the property of Stargate (II) Productions, Showtime/Viacom, MGM/UA, Double Secret Productions, and Gekko Productions. This story is for entertainment purposes only and no money exchanged hands. No copyright infringement is intended. The original characters, situations, and story are the property of the author. This story may not be posted elsewhere without the consent of the author.

Sam sat at her computer, typing up her mission report. Usually, this was the easiest part of the mission. Their reports were never too tough, just a simple recounting of facts, something to be filed away in triplicate for folks with more rank than her to sit in cushy offices and read.

Normally, she had no problem writing them, other than taking the half hour to sit down and do it, unless it was one of those really fun missions where she ended up in the infirmary or otherwise occupied. Then it could be a chore. Periods of unconsciousness tended to leave large gaps in one's recollection of the details.

This time however, this time it was different. This time she felt the need to consider her words very carefully. She couldn't and wouldn't lie, but she also didn't want to implicate her CO in a capital offense.

It was times like this when she longed for the good old days, back when the SGC was still a bit of a joke and politicians weren't squabbling over every single expense and action. Now, now it was like every decision they made was scrutinized and picked apart, that there was no shortage of critics and armchair quarterbacks ready to crucify them for any perceived error, no matter how small. And this was no small error. In fact, if they really wanted to twist it, this was murder.

"I wouldn't follow us if I were you," O'Neill warned, his voice cold, full of disgust at what they'd discovered, and, she was sure, self-loathing about his part in it, the life he'd been tricked into taking.

"NO!" Alar cried.

"GO!" She heard O'Neill order Daniel and Teal'c, silently telling her to stand with him, to cover their teammates as they retreated. Once the way was clear, they ran, following Daniel and Teal'c's tracks to the waiting Stargate.

"Wait! WAIT!!!!" She turned, not surprised to see Alar running towards them. Somehow she knew he'd try to survive, not caring about his people, only about himself. "I could
teach you everything I know! Just let me come with you! PLEASE!" he begged, his eyes wide and desperate. She knew if he survived the bombardment what his fate would be, that he would be held accountable for his crimes against humanity. That leaving the planet was his only chance to escape responsibility.

They ignored him, both leaving through the gate. She arrived first, pausing on the ramp to wait for Jack's return. He stepped through a few seconds after her, slowly walking forward. "Close the iris," he said flatly, letting his hands fall to his side, as if he wanted to have a moment of total inaction.

His shoulders slumped and in that second she knew. She knew Alar was going to follow them, he was too much of a coward to face his own death. And she knew that O'Neill knew too. Closing the iris was deliberate. Oh, the final choice would be Alar's. He knew about their iris, he knew that he stood a chance of dying. But he also was a man that would rather die than face the consequences of his actions.

For a split second she considered speaking up, voicing some sort of protest. She tried to say something, to look at the general, to tell him that things were wrong, that someone was going to perish in a few seconds. That a fifth Eurondan was going to die, a victim of their defenses. Alar was going to jump through the wormhole, and never materialize. He'd be nothing more than a few microscopic bits of residue on the backside of those trinium-titanium blades, just like those many times before when Jaffa, heck, even when one of their own came through without a code. Bug on a windshield. That's what the colonel had called it all those years ago. Never have the guts to do that again, as her dad used to joke.

He was going to die. A sentient human being was even now hurtling to his death and she should say something, do something. She shouldn't just stand there. Who was he to judge the man? Who was she? Alar was doomed to die because they didn't like his politics? Was that enough? Didn't that make them no better than him?

"Do it!" Hammond ordered and she stayed silent, looking into her commander's eyes as Alar's fate was sealed as surely as the iris was sealed. She saw his pain, his guilt, his acceptance of his role in the man's death, his apprising look at her, the anticipation in his eyes, expecting her to say something, surprised when she said nothing. Or was that disappointment she saw in his dark eyes? Disappointment in her, disgust at her silence, dismay at her complicity. He stood there for a few more seconds until General Hammond's voice broke up their silent communication. "I take it, Colonel, you were unable to procure Eurondan technology?" he asked, more for the record than anything else..

"That's correct, Sir," he answered, looking away from her.

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"Don't be," Jack answered, meeting her gaze with one tinged with sadness and disappointment, resignation and revulsion.

"We'll debrief in one hour."

"Yes, Sir."

She looked at him for a few more seconds, then turned, quietly walking down the ramp. She handed her weapons over and left the room, eager to get away. She didn't want to stay with them right now. Didn't want to be around anyone that would ask questions, questions she wasn't ready to answer yet, questions she didn't even know the answer to.

Questions she still wasn't ready to answer, she thought, staring at the blinking cursor on the screen, the neat black letters mocking her. It was so sterile, those words on a screen, the words they'd taught her at the academy to use, neutralize instead of kill, strike instead of attack, casualty in place of victim.

"Carter?" O'Neill's voice broke through her thoughts.

"Sir."

"I was aah…Hammond was wanting our mission reports for Euronda," he said, walking into the room.

"I thought he gave us forty-eight hours," she answered.

"Oh yeah, he, aah, he did." He stood beside her worktable, his hands crammed into his pockets. "I just…you are writing down exactly what happened, aren't you?" he asked.

"Sir?" Sam asked, frowning a bit.

"I made a decision and I'm willing to stand by it. I don't need anyone covering my ass," he said bluntly.

"Colonel-"

"Carter, you will report exactly what happened on the planet. No more, no less," he said, his voice rising a bit, his message plain and clear. In that instant she knew, knew why she'd not said anything, why the idea of Alar's death bothered her less than the four souls whose deaths she'd caused by keeping the iris closed. Why she felt less guilt for him, the man she'd spoken to and gotten to know than she felt for four nameless people who'd paid the ultimate price in search of a miracle.

A reason that came to her with the memory of soft, strong hands, a lilting accent and the faint smell of lavender. Sad green eyes and the feel of smooth cotton under her fingers, covering timeworn skin and invisible scars.

Sam closed her eyes for a second, taking a deep breath. "Did I ever tell you about my Aunt Sophie?" she asked quietly.

He shook his head, frowning. "What?" he asked, clearly confused by the abrupt subject change.

"Well, she wasn't really my aunt, not by blood anyway," Sam explained. "My dad was stationed at Lackland when my mom died. There was this older woman there, Sophia. Her husband was dead, but the commander let her still live on the base. She had her husband's pension, but she'd earn a little more by babysitting the kids. After my mom died, my dad needed the help. She'd come in the afternoons, cook, clean a little, just help him out."

"One thing I remember about her is that she always wore long sleeved blouses, even in the summer. And if you've ever been in Texas in the summer, that was odd. But I never really thought about it until I came home early one day and she was washing the dishes." Sam looked him in the eyes. "Her sleeves were rolled up and I saw her tattoo, the numbers on her arm," she said softly, running her right hand over her left forearm.

"Numbers? Oh," he said, his eyes widening in comprehension.

"Yeah," she confirmed. "Although I had no idea what it was at the time. It was weeks later and we were studying World War Two in history class and then…" She trailed off for a second. "She lost her whole family, everyone, even cousins. After the war, she met and married a GI, which is how she ended up at Lackland."

She paused and looked him in the eyes. "She lost everything because of someone like Alar. Did he have technology that could have helped us? Yeah. The cold fusion alone would change our lives. But considering his father murdered a whole planet just because they were different, I don't know if I'd want technology that came from genocide," she said softly.

"Carter-"

"You warned him, sir. He knew about our iris and he knew he'd die. He chose to take that risk. I do regret that we didn't get the technology and I wish there'd been another way," she admitted. "But, we have enough psychopaths and meglomaniacs of our own, I really don't see the need to import more." She pointed towards her computer screen. "My report says exactly what happened. We reached an agreement, the Eurondans were attacked, their defenses failed and we barely made it out before the base was breached, most likely exposing it to the poisoned atmosphere."

"And the impact?" he asked pointedly.

Sam shrugged, "For all I know, debris fell through the gate. If they're interested enough, the Pentagon could order General Hammond to open the gate and send a MALP."

He sighed, running his hand through his short hair. "Put it ALL in there, Carter. No creative editing, don't leave anything out. I made the decision and I'll stand by it. They want to file charges, they're welcome to it." He turned on his heel and walked out of her lab.

She stared at the empty doorway for a moment, then turned back to her computer, studying the words on the screen. Pressing a couple of keys, she saved the file, sending a copy to the printer. "I stand by my actions too, sir," she muttered softly, signing off her computer and getting up from the table.

Grabbing the paper, she signed the report and slipped it into a folder, writing General Hammond's name on the outside. Tossing it into her outbox, she grabbed her wallet and left her lab, locking the door behind her.

~Fin~

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