STARGATE SG-1: Do No Harm by Karen Miller Read Free Book Online Page A

the disasters from a distance. He’d never met the dead and injured SG team personnel but still… After reading about them and their fantastic exploits for so long it
felt
like he knew them. He grieved for them as though he had. As he’d grieved for Frank, lost to the voracious and unforgiving Stargate.
    He nodded, cautiously. “Yes, sir. I understand.”
    “Is it O’Neill?” McCreary asked abruptly. “Is the idea of working with him the problem?”
    A simple question, with an answer so complicated he didn’t know where to begin. “No, sir. I have no problem with Colonel O’Neill.”
    McCreary shifted in his chair to stare out of his office window at a bug-eyed helicopter whop-whop-whopping its way through the sky. Off to the White House, possibly. Or Arlington. Or Andrews. Somewhere. “O’Neill’s a maverick bastard but he’s a genius at what he does. And he didn’t get Frank killed, Dave. The investigation was clear on that.”
    The investigation had been crystal clear. Frank Cromwell died in the line of duty, no ifs, ands or buts. He died a hero, saving the planet from a black hole. He died a victim of dumb bad luck. It could as easily have been O’Neill’s harness rope that was cut by the flying glass. It could’ve been Jack O’Neill who died. It nearly was. Frank’s death was random chance. It was one of those things.
    “I know, sir,” he said. “O’Neill wasn’t responsible.”
    McCreary sat back, his attention diverted from the normal world beyond the window. “But you still blame him.”
    “No, sir, I do not.”
    Unreasonable, passionately defended grudges are Jack O’Neill’s hobb y, not mine
.
    “I understand it’s a big ask, Dave,” said McCreary. “If you wanted to be part of the Stargate program you’d have put your hand up for it long ago. God knows if you did they’d take you in a heartbeat. They’re crying out for people of your caliber.”
    “Thank you, sir.”
    McCreary considered him, curious. “Why haven’t you? Put your hand up, I mean.”
    He shrugged. “I’ve never been that interested in outer space, sir.”
    “But you took this assignment. Standby strike team to defend Cheyenne Mountain from — God help us — alien incursion.”
    “Yes, sir. But that’s different.”
    “I guess it is,” said McCreary. “Is it your wife? Is that why you’re hesitating now? I mean, I know you’ve only been married six months. The bloom’s not off the rose yet. I get that.”
    Scott McCreary had been married five times; he could be forgiven a certain level of cynicism, a teaspoon of tactlessness. Dixon nodded. “Not yet, sir. No. There’s still a bit of the old bloom left.”
    “So that’s the problem? That’s what’s holding you back?”
    It was part of the problem. It wasn’t all of it. But it was easier to say ‘yes’ than try to explain to his bluff, uncomplicated general what, exactly, had him thinking twice about this mission.
    Maybe I do blame O’Neill for Frank. Maybe I’m better at holding a gr udge than I realized.
    He nodded. “Yes, sir. I’m afraid so.”
    McCreary wasn’t pleased but he wasn’t a tyrant, either. “I understand your caution, Dave. I do. Take tonight to think about it. Give me your answer first thing in the morning. If it’s yes, you’ll hop a transport to Peterson then get taken to Cheyenne Mountain. If it’s no…” He shook his head. “I’ll be honest. I hope it’s not.”
    So, no pressure. “And my men, sir?”
    “I’ll be talking to them in due course. But I don’t want you and your team discussing this among yourselves, Colonel. Consider our conversation privileged. If any of you come on board I want it to be for the right reasons.”
    In other words, team loyalty could be taken too far. It was a fair point. Cold feet, regrets and second-guessing could get people killed.
    “Yes, sir.” Dixon shifted in his chair. “You really want me to do this, sir. Don’t you.”
    McCreary looked uncomfortable.