03 - The First Amendment Read Online Free

responsible for assessing the risk to the first team through. That usually put
her in conflict, to one degree or another, with O’Neill.
    “Well, we lost three of the four probes immediately, and the fourth one
melted in a pool of lava,” she responded. “I didn’t think you’d want to go
wading in that, although it does give new meaning to the concept of a hot tub.”
    “Well, no wonder we’re running out of equipment.”
    Hammond just barely managed to keep from rolling his eyes in exasperation. He
couldn’t keep O’Neill from making wisecracks, he’d realized long ago, and he
couldn’t keep Rusalka from trying to set him down a notch. He wondered if
Rusalka considered the colonel a challenge of some kind. Maybe he should ask
Frasier to have a little woman-to-woman talk with the major. Maybe get Sam
Carter into it, too.
    For an instant he toyed with the idea of asking Carter to set up a formal
female-only staff briefing on How to Handle O’Neill, but it would be useless anyway. Incorrigible.
    Besides, they were adults and they’d damn well work it out on their own time.
Or else.
    Incorrigible took up the report. “The rest of our teams are twiddling their
thumbs, ready to go,” O’Neill said. “SG-1 is more than ready for its next
assignment—as soon as we can find someplace other than a lava pool to dip our
toes in.”
    “We still have three possibles,” Rusalka continued grimly as though she
hadn’t been interrupted, “although I don’t like the atmospheric readings on two
of them. We haven’t finished interpreting the data.”
    “Standing by.”
    “If you really want to use total environmental suits for your next mission,
my team should have a report by the time we finish up here, Colonel. If you’d
care to stop by the labs we’ll have the lists for you.”
    O’Neill grunted and waved his hand as if to say, I’ll wait.
    The reports went on, a smooth flow of information, comments, suggestions,
decisions. Hammond orchestrated it all, watching as his command team worked
together, letting them sort through options, goals, plans. They were good at
what they did.
    Usually.
    But every once in a while, things went rather horribly wrong, and they
weren’t able to blame the Goa’uld.

 
 
CHAPTER THREE
     
     
    “I’d like to hear now from SG-2 about the details of their last mission,”
Hammond said at last. “I believe that’s the world you called Etaa, Jack.”
    “That’s what the inhabitants called their city, yes.”
    The officers around the table looked at each other uncomfortably, then
directed their gazes to the major sitting halfway between Hammond and O’Neill.
    “Major Morley?” Hammond prompted, his voice oddly gentle.
    Morley cleared his throat and looked down at the papers carefully squared on
the table in front of him. His face was heavily bruised along the left side, the
entire left eye surrounded by black markings; a pattern of stitches along the
cheekbone held together a raw gash. When he moved his arm along the table it was
clear that he was favoring it. The end of a bandage peeked out from under the
cuff of his jacket.
    When no one broke the silence, he sighed, sharply catching his breath halfway
through the exhalation. “Yes, sir.”
    Without looking up, he continued, pitching his voice just loud enough to be
heard clearly by all those at the table, “As you are aware, sir, our assignment
was the recovery of SG-4 personnel captured by the Goa’uld on P7X-924.”
     
    Piece of cake, Morley thought, as his squad formed up for one last weapons
check before going through the Gate.
    He hadn’t actually been to P7X-924 before, but he’d spent hours poring over
the probe reports, lie knew everything there was to know about the Goa’uld,
everything that had ever been reported by O’Neill and his hotshot team. This was
going to show just how good he really was. That downcheck on his last evaluation
would be wiped away as if it had never happened.