XOVER: Changing of the Guard 4: The Road To Hammelcar [PG13] 1/19
ecolea (ecolea@WT.NET)
Sun, 23 Dec 2001 08:33:13 -0600
Notes and disclaimers in part 0/19
Changing of the Guard 4:
The Road To Hammelcar
By Ecolea
Prologue
The golf course was lush and teeming with life as Secret Service agents
prowled the green and filtered through the wooded areas doing their jobs.
Jack O'Neill nodded in appreciation as his golfing partner for the morning
let fly with beautiful a back swing and they watched the tiny white ball
drive through the air and land within a few yards of the ninth hole.
"Very nice, Mr. President," O'Neill complimented the other man.
"Why thank you, Colonel," the President grinned as he handed off his iron to
the agent assigned to caddy and stepped back.
O'Neill moved to set his ball on the tee. "I've been thinking about what you
said," he commented as he settled into his stance.
"And?" the President asked.
"I'd rather not, if you don't mind. I think he's been through enough."
"I agree," the President sighed and O'Neill shot him a surprised glance. "I
can read between the lines, Jack. For all intents and purposes, Inanna was
Methos' mother. And he was forced to kill her because we discovered her
existence. Something she'd gone to great lengths to hide. I'm not unmindful
of that," he added quietly. "But you know as well as I do," he went on,
"he's the only man on the planet who knows anything about the culture
in-depth. Even if it is ten thousand years out of date, we need his
expertise."
"It's not fair," O'Neill muttered.
"No, but it's his job."
Jack nodded slowly, sighing tiredly. "And with Inanna's people looking to
cut a deal there's no other choice."
"Maybe Pierson will eventually be helpful in dealing with the Ishri," the
President said. "And maybe not. But as far as we know they still have the
ability to challenge us. Just as Inanna did. I'm sorry if it causes the man
pain, but we simply cannot afford to waste him as a resource. "
O'Neill gave his Commander in Chief a curious stare. "Maybe you're right,"
O'Neill finally replied.
"So, you'll do it?" the President asked.
O'Neill sighed again and nodded. "We've gotta come up with a plan though. He
doesn't have a background in the diplomatic corp, and you can't just order
him to negotiate on behalf of Earth."
"No, he doesn't," the President agreed.
"Pierson hates being in the spotlight even more than I do. And he does have
the right to refuse a mission he's not qualified to perform. Even a
diplomatic one. And he'll do it, too."
"Well, we've got a week before his leave is over to come up with something
that will pique his interest and make him want to get involved. I can
probably stall the Ishri a bit longer."
Jack nodded distantly and finally made his shot, sinking it easily and
smiling as the President swore under his breath.
"You know," O'Neill offered as he knelt to remove his ball from the cup. "We
could use some serious recon on the Ishri."
The President smiled. "Yes, we could. You have something in mind, Colonel?"
"A little something," Jack grinned. "Dangerous, but not dicey. Needs a man
like Pierson to make it work. Of course," he added, stepping back to allow
the President to sink his putt. "It won't sound quite as interesting coming
from me."
The President raised his brows, understanding perfectly what O'Neill was
suggesting. "Well now, if the Joint Chiefs approve and you think it will
make a difference, I think we can find someone important enough to pitch it
to our Immortal Captain."
"All the difference in the world," Jack replied as the little white ball
rolled easily along the grass and gently dropped into the hole.
Chapter 1
"Where are we going now?" Methos asked in annoyance. They'd been flying for
nearly six hours and instead of heading straight to the base at Cheyenne
Mountain from Paris, where O'Neill had kindly picked him up, once in the
air, they had detoured first to Frankfurt then to Milan. It seemed O'Neill
had agreed to do some courier missions as a favor to an old friend, or so he
claimed. Now they were in Washington DC. At the hangar, O'Neill had ordered
him to change into his dress uniform, which he had done as well, then
hustled Methos into an unmarked car and headed into the city.
"Don't tell me you've never wanted to see the Pentagon?" Jack grinned as he
turned off Hayes Street and onto Army-Navy Drive.
"Big building? Five sides? Oh look, there it is," Methos pointed excitedly.
"Wow! That was really thrilling. Thanks, Jack."
"Anytime," O'Neill chuckled. "Look, I just need to pick up another set of
orders. Then we're out of here. Okay?"
Methos sighed and nodded as they pulled into the building's underground
garage. O'Neill showed more orders to a waiting soldier and they headed
inside to park. A few minutes later they walked back out and across the
street into a Macy's Department Store.
"Oh, I get it," Methos sniped. "We're shopping for orders."
Jack snickered. "Of course, who do you think built this place?"
A bored looking rent-a-cop sat at an information desk, where, much to
Methos' surprise, O'Neill showed him his ID and the man waved them to an
elevator. Once inside they headed down for several minutes. When the lift
came to a halt they exited into another small room lined with mirrors, or
what appeared to be a small room, which suddenly began moving sideways.
"Jesus!" Methos gasped as he tried to get his footing back.
Jack laughed from where he leaned against a wall. "Gotcha!"
Methos stepped back to park himself securely against the mirrors.
"What the hell is this place?" he asked looking around curiously, though
there was really nothing to see.
"The fun house," O'Neill shrugged, grinning just a little.
"Ah," Methos sighed and crossed his arms, trying to look nonchalant about
it. "It's a secret."
"Places which don't exist," O'Neill pointed out, "technically aren't
secrets."
This was true, Methos silently agreed. "So, we were never here?
"Never where?"
Methos gave a disgusted sigh at Jack's feigned confusion, but said nothing.
If O'Neill wanted to play games, who was he to complain? And knowledge,
especially well kept secrets, were always a good thing to have.
A quarter of an hour later the "elevator" finally stopped and they got out
in front of another elevator. "This one go perpendicular?" Methos asked
snidely.
"No," the colonel answered quite seriously. "We don't have any reason to go
to the House of Representatives, do we?"
Methos rubbed his eyes. No matter what he did this was a game O'Neill was
going to win. So, he might well just shut up and concede defeat.
This time the elevator did go up in a perfectly normal fashion, except for
the fact that it was slower than molasses dripping. And as it rose, droning
elevator music played an excruciatingly saccharine version of "Feelings" in
a medley with "You Light Up My Life" followed by a hideously sweet rendition
of "It's a Small World, After All." Towards the end of the second pass
O'Neill started humming and Methos glared in response.
"Don't look at me like that." Jack grinned painfully as Methos distracted
him from his distraction. "One more verse and I'll rip your head off with my
teeth!"
"Not if I don't do it first," Methos gritted. "What did you do wrong and why
am I being punished for it?!"
"It's your turn!" Jack grimaced.
By the time the elevator came to a stop and they gratefully escaped the
government sponsored torture, Methos was ready to scream when he found
himself staring dumbly at another pair of sliding doors.
"I don't care what you say," Methos insisted. "I am not getting in there!"
"But we're here," Jack told him, looking hurt. "And the only way to leave
from this point is to go back the way we came!"
Methos groaned. "God, man! Just get those fucking orders and let's get out
of here!"
Jack grinned happily. "I have to go in here," he pointed to a door on his
right. "You go through there and I'll meet you on the other side in a bit."
"So what's in there?" Methos asked suspiciously. "Racks? Hot irons? Debbie
Boone?"
"It's just an office," Jack told him with a hint of exasperation, waving at
the sliding doors.
"Fine," Methos muttered, striding forward and ignoring the pneumatic doors
as he glanced back to see Jack entering what looked like another office.
"It's just an office," he told himself as he stepped inside and saw the
paneled walls. Then the doors slid shut behind him seamlessly. "It's just-"
Methos' chin dropped. "The Oval Office. Shit!"
"That just what I said!"
Methos turned to stare at the smiling man sitting comfortably at the big
desk in front of the windows. I will get you for this, O Great Satan! Methos
thought angrily, finally closing his mouth.
"You look younger than I thought," the President commented as he rose.
"Well you're taller!" Methos retorted, suddenly shocked by his own response.
"Uh, sir," he added, saluting sharply as he hurriedly came to attention.
"At ease," the President laughed. "It's the tube. We're all just a bunch of
talking heads on the box."
Methos relaxed his stance, nodding distractedly.
"Well, come on in," the President waved him to the sitting area as he strode
over. "Can I you get you something? Coffee? Bourbon? Nitroglycerin?"
Methos grinned at the last offer and moved to take a seat on the couch. "My
heart's fine. So's coffee, thank you."
"Sorry about all the skullduggery," the President offered kindly as he
poured coffee from a silver carafe into a pair of bone china cups bearing
the Presidential seal. "But we thought you'd prefer it to having your
picture taken with the rest of the masses who come in here."
"I appreciate that," he murmured, feeling a little more kindly towards
O'Neill for that courtesy.
"It's good to finally meet you, Methos," the President smiled and held out
his hand.
Surreal, Methos thought as he shook it. Oh, he'd met American Presidents
before. Washington, Jackson, and Lincoln to name a few. But none had ever
called him by name or known exactly what he was.
"I have to admit, I've been looking forward to this," the President
confided. "Just knowing there's someone out there who's lived through
everything you have... Well, it's damn near unbelievable. Especially in
light of how you folks live."
Methos carefully blanked his expression and the other man, no fool in this
or anything, nodded briefly.
"I see you understand me. Good. Because that's one of the things I wanted to
discuss at this meeting. Is there any possibility of ending this Game?"
Methos glanced at his coffee and took a sip. "I doubt it," he shook his head
sadly. "Even if I could get some to believe there are too many others who
would not, or would continue fighting for the sheer thrill of it.
Quickenings can be addictive for some. Though others, like any individuals,
just do it for the sport. And imagine the horror of those who've killed just
to survive, only to discover that those deaths had no point. It would drive
good men and women mad."
"A shame," the President murmured. "Such a waste."
There was nothing to say to that so Methos merely nodded.
"Which brings me to the reason I asked O'Neill to bring you here." The
President reached into his jacket, pulling out an envelope which he handed
to Methos.
"An identification card and passport?" he asked curiously as he examined the
contents.
"Not just any passport, Methos, but one that will never expire. From this
day forward Adam Pierson can go into any American embassy anywhere in the
world and have it renewed. Even have the name changed. No questions asked.
For as long as the United States exists."
Methos simply stared at the man in silent shock.
"And the other," the President pointed out, "is a blanket visa issued by the
United Nations. One of a kind -- like yourself. The bar coding on the back
will allow you diplomatic entry into any nation on this planet."
"Diplomatic?!" Methos gasped. He could take his sword on any plane and into
any airport and no one would ever question its presence!
The President grinned. "Thought you'd like that. It's just our little way of
saying thanks for all you've done."
"Some thanks," Methos murmured, the cynical side of him wondering just what
he was going to have to do to keep these precious documents active.
The President waved a hand in dismissal. "You've more than earned it. Though
there is something else I'd like to discuss with you."
Ah, yes. Here it comes, Methos thought.
"We need another favor from you, and it isn't something anyone can order..."