Free SG1-16 Four Dragons by Diana Botsford Page A

rest.”
    He turned to leave and then stopped. “Colonel,” he said softly, his back still to the room.
    Jack swallowed his pride and stood up. “Yes, sir?”
    “You’re going to retrieve Dr. Jackson, one way or another. You can count on it.” He walked out, not waiting for a reply.
    Jack turned back to his team and allies. “You heard the man. Everyone get some bunk time. Tomorrow, we’re going after Daniel… one way or another.”
    STARGATE COMMAND
    STATUS: STANDBY/MISSION READY
    2 JUL 03/0920 HRS BASE TIME
    Standing by the coffee urn in the briefing room, Jack considered pouring himself a second cup and decided against it. Too much caffeine and he’d wear out the deck of Jacob’s borrowed cargo ship by lunchtime.
    That is, if they ever got their butts in gear.
    They still had pre-mission med checks to suffer through, gearing up, packing ammo, briefing SG-5. SG-3 had left at oh-seven-hundred to backup SG-9 on some scheduled trade negotiation, leaving only one team available for backup. It would have to do.
    Jack checked his watch, admittedly for the umpteenth time since arriving in the briefing room, only to find Hammond missing. Twenty minutes past nine. That wasn’t like the general. Especially when someone’s life was on the line.
    “I am sure General Hammond’s reasons for delay have merit, O’Neill,” said Teal’c joining him by the coffee table.
    “What, so now you’re giving me the pep talks?” Jack asked with a smile. The room was too sullen, too tense. He needed to do something to lighten things up. “You don’t fool me. You only came over to grab another donut.”
    “Two,” said Teal’c. He grabbed a powdered donut in each hand. “Master Bra’tac has yet to experience this particular Tau’ri food.”
    “Cake and now donuts?” Jack whispered conspiratorially. “Frasier would have a conniption if she knew what we were doing to the old man’s arteries.”
    “At a hundred and thirty-nine years,” Bra’tac said, sitting at the table behind them, “I believe I am able to judge what food serves me and what does not.”
    Jack looked over at Jacob and Carter at the other end of the table. Father and daughter had matching frowns, but neither of them had coffee or donuts. Forgetting to eat seemed to run in the family. “What about you, Jacob? All that time with the Tok’ra… I bet you miss the good old foods of home.”
    Jacob waved him off. “No thanks, Jack.”
    Carter attempted to smile though it never did reach her eyes. “Selmak doesn’t like fried food.”
    “It’s not that Selmak doesn’t like fried food,” Jacob insisted. “He doesn’t like sugar.”
    Spotting a couple of plain ones, Jack picked them up. He made a show of inhaling their crispy goodness deeply. “I bet he’d like these.”
    Jacob pressed his lips together. Clearly not a taker. Hoping to get Carter to eat something, or at least lighten things up, Jack began juggling the donuts. “Come on, Major. What’s a bit of junk food amongst friends?”
    He tossed them higher, the fried bits of dough sailing in the air with the greatest of ease. Finally, Carter smiled. To kill time, Jack grabbed another one and went for three.
    He heard heavy footsteps come up the stairwell to his left. Maybe Hammond would like one. Jack turned, still juggling the donuts.
    The general wasn’t alone. Nor was he in his standard short-sleeved Aviator shirt. In full dress kit, Hammond stepped off the landing with a scowl in Jack’s direction and silently headed for his seat at the head of the table.
    Jack dropped the donuts into the box. He turned back around just as Major Paul Davis — also in dress blues — escorted an older, well-dressed Chinese man into the room. Close-cropped black hair peppered with silver, a square jaw covered in a grey-streaked goatee, high forehead; he couldn’t be more than five foot eight or nine, but the man carried himself like he was a lot taller. His eyes were unusual, for a Chinese man at any