Betrayal - Hostages

[rinkhc]

Title: Betrayal
Fandom: SGA/SG-1 Fusion
Characters: Woolsey, Mitchell, Lorne, Sheppard, and a little Jack O’Neill
Pairings: Mitchell/Sheppard
Orientation: Slash
Rating: PG - for language
Word Count: 2,526
Warnings: None

Notes: for camshaft22  , because she prompted me with a Big Fat Plot Bunnie.  

 

Prompts: HC Bingo fill: Hostages 

The mistake they made was taking John Sheppard. 

 

If Richard Woolsey had been asked, he would have told them that. But no one bothered to ask. The IOA apparently did not value Woolsey’s opinion as they once had.

 

It was an ill conceived plan. Some suits in the decision making branch of the IOA rubber stamped the plan to round up all the Ancient Gene holders and keep them in a secure facility, “for their own good.” 

 

When they attempted to take Jack O’Neill, he met them on his front lawn with a Jaffa staff weapon and threatened to cook the first man that set foot on the grass. Sam Carter had zatted the agents from behind her car, parked across the street and O’Neill had eluded the roundup. 

 

They tried to capture Lieutenant Colonel Evan Lorne when he was leaving the SGC in Colorado Springs, but Lorne proved to be difficult to catch. He led the IOA agents on a merry chase and made it back inside the base, after a shootout in the parking lot of the Cheyenne Mountain facility.

 

They were slightly wiser when they went after John Sheppard, learning from their mistakes with O’Neill and Lorne; they trailed him back to the apartment he was staying at after his duty shift was over. They zatted him when he got out of his car. If they had been just a little wiser, they would have taken note of whose car Sheppard had been driving, and whose apartment building he had parked in front of. But the IOA was short on wisdom these days.

 

It took a few days for the people at the SGC to put their heads together and figure out what all their AWOL officers and enlisted people had in common. Once they did, rumors and accusations began to fly. Cooperation between government agencies fell apart; no one trusted any one else. With O’Neill gone underground, Landry was in full charge at the SGC. 

 

Landry was about to order an investigation into the disappearances, putting a great deal of the SGC’S resources into locating their missing personnel, but he never got the chance to give the order before he was poisoned. They found him slumped over his desk, the coffee in his cup gone cold. He slipped into a coma and was put on life support. 

 

Colonel Cameron Mitchell, the senior officer on base, seized control of the SGC. His first order was to put the base on lockdown. He then severed communications with the IOA and all representatives of the international governing committee. In retaliation, the IOA branded Mitchell a traitor and began demanding that the Air Force step in and properly discipline their rogue officer. The Air Force, still smarting over the loss of two experienced SGC Generals in O’Neill and Landry and two full bird Colonels in Carter and Sheppard, was not willing to bend over and let the IOA stick it to them forcefully without proper lubrication. They declined.

 

Colonel Mitchell seized control of Atlantis within a day of the SGC lockdown. The IOA committee speculated later that he’d gotten Rodney McKay to reprogram all the security for the city to override the IOA’s security lockdowns. It was further suspected that General O’Neill had been smuggled to Atlantis on Mitchell’s orders. It was either General O’Neill or Lieutenant Colonel Lorne sitting in the control chair when Atlantis lifted out of San Francisco Bay and flew off. The IOA had no way of tracking the city-ship since the SGC was not exactly in an information sharing mood.

 

Before the IOA agents could round up any other SGC personnel or their families, they were all beamed out of their homes and duty stations. Area 51 went into lockdown, again at Colonel Mitchell’s command. The Air Force, again, refused to step in, declaring it an SGC manner and supporting Mitchell’s right to make all security decisions for any SGC base of operations. The Air Force knew which party in this dispute was smarter and would come out on top, the top brass just sat back to wait for the dust to settle.

 

In total, Colonel Cameron Mitchell spent four days consolidating his base of power and securing his people. When everyone with ties to the SGC was safely within the protection of Mitchell and his people, he finally broke radio silence.

 

Every computer, monitor and projection in the home offices of the IOA began playing a recorded message at eight am on a Monday. 

 

Mitchell, dressed in his battle dress uniform, was sitting atop a control panel with the Stargate in the background as he spoke calmly and coolly to the camera. “I’m Colonel Cameron Mitchell, acting head of the SGC. But you already know that. The SGC and all related facilities are now under my direct control. But you know that too. What you might not know is that the Daedalus, the George Hammond the Odyssey and Atlantis are all in orbit over Earth, and they are also under my direct command. If the ATA gene holders that were taken without authorization, permission or consent are not returned to SGC custody within the next twenty four hours, measures will be taken. I am ready, willing and quite capable of using extreme force to ensure that these demands are met. The clock starts now.”

 

 ~*~

 

Richard Woolsey stood in the street outside the smoking remains of what had once been IOA headquarters. He had wisely evacuated the premises when the deadline ran out and the chiefs of the committee had denied Colonel Mitchell’s demands. He had taken everything with sentimental value with him that he had been able to carry, slipped into his pockets and into his laptop case. The prized framed photo of his pet Yorkie that had survived a trip to the Pegasus galaxy was tucked under one arm. 

 

He shook his head as chatter in a dozen languages, all bemoaning the destruction of the building, flowed around him. “They really, really, really should not have taken Sheppard.” Richard muttered. Twenty five minutes after the building was reduced to rubble, Woolsey felt the tingle of an Asgard beam wash over and through him. He blinked and found himself on the bridge of the Odyssey, facing a very irritated Colonel Mitchell. He was surrounded by half a dozen marines, faces he recognized from Atlantis, all holding guns pointed at him. He held his hands out in front of him, trying not to drop his Yorkie. 

 

“Where are our people?” Mitchell demanded.

 

“I don’t know, Colonel. I was out of the loop on this. I understand your frustration. If I had been consulted on this, I would have made it clear that this was not a good idea. You have to believe me.”

 

Mitchell waved at the guards to lower their weapons and slowly climbed out of the Captain’s chair and stalked over to Woolsey.  He leaned down so that they were nose to nose and hissed, “They took John.”

 

“They made a mistake.”

 

“Yeah, they did.” Mitchell’s eyes were dark and dangerous as he glared at Woolsey. “I’m sending you back, as a message. The question is; do I send you back in pieces? Do I send you back breathing? I can always tack a note to your corpse.”

 

He turned away and went back to his chair and dropped into it, resting his chin on one hand in a pose Woolsey had always associated with James T Kirk. He snapped at one of the people manning a control panel, “Get me the Hammond and Atlantis.”

 

The video monitor flashed and Lorne and McKay’s faces filled the screen. “Do I send him back in pieces?” Mitchell asked them without preamble.

 

“Where’s Sheppard, Mr. Woolsey? If you tell him at least where Sheppard is, he might back down.” Lorne looked mildly panicked, and was using his ‘coerce the natives’ voice. His whole demeanor clued Woolsey in to the seriousness of the current situation, as Lorne obviously meant it too. Lorne knew how to play the game. He’d been on both sides of many hostage situations.

 

McKay, bless him, shook his head vehemently. “Don’t kill him, Colonel. He’s a good guy. It isn’t his fault he works for assholes.”

 

“Hold your positions. Wait for further orders.” Mitchell barked and signaled for the transmission to be cut. “Get me the Daedalus; I want to talk to Novak.” There was a pause and then Novak appeared on the screen. “Do you have that list I asked for?”

 

“Yes, Colonel. Transmitting now to your ID, eyes only.” She bent away from the camera and Woolsey heard clicking. “You should have it.”

 

Taking a datapad from the technician that handed it to him, Mitchell nodded. “Thank you. Odyssey out. Mitchell reached into his pocket and pulled out a standard jump drive and plugged it onto the datapad. He hit a few keys and then ejected it. He got up out of his seat and walked back to Woolsey. 

 

He pulled his sidearm and pointed it at Richard’s head. “Last chance. Give me a location.”

 

Richard had been trying for days to figure out where they would have stashed all the ATA gene holders. He had done as much poking around as he could without setting off alarms and he had a few suspicions. He gave Mitchell his best guess, “The USS Intrepid, in NY. They closed the museum down a few days before the SGC lockdown, with no explanation, but they sent a large security force over there, again without explanation.”

 

Lowering the gun Mitchell gave him a nasty smile. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?” He held the jump drive out to Woolsey. “That is proof that we know the names and locations of the family members of the IOA staff. If they do not comply within the hour, transmitting the location of Colonel Sheppard, I will start beaming the people on that list into open space, one every half hour. We’ll be in touch in twenty nine minutes.” He gave Woolsey a measured look and then pulled off his comm unit and handed it to him without explanation.

 

Woolsey nodded and clenched his hand closed around the jump drive and slipped the comm link in place over his ear. He had missed that, being connected with everyone via comms in Atlantis. He had missed Atlantis. He felt the Asgard beam tingle and he was standing in the lobby of the New York headquarters of the IOA. He quickly went to the elevator and ran down the hallway to the New York chief’s office. 

 

“Woolsey? What are you doing here?” The Chief, whose name was Martin, was confused. They were all so very confused about so many things, Woolsey thought.

 

He handed Martin the jump drive and spoke rapidly. “I was taken to the Odyssey. Colonel Mitchell has demands. He wants Sheppard’s location, within the next…” Woolsey checked his watch, “… twenty three minutes, or he will start beaming the people on that list into open space, one every half hour. I believe your wife and son are on that list, Mr. Martin, as are the rest of the families of the IOA staff. I would advise you to do as the man asks. Colonel Mitchell means what he says, and he will not budge on this demand or negotiate terms.”

 

Richard reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out the envelope he had been preparing to deliver at the Home Office before Mitchell obliterated it. He handed that to Martin. “That is my resignation, effective immediately. I have had enough of backdoor and boardroom politics.”

 

The comm in his ear crackled and Mitchell’s voice drawled, “Bravo, Woolsey, I guess Lorne and McKay had you pegged right. Welcome to the revolution.” An Asgard beam caught him and he found himself facing a very relieved looking Evan Lorne. 

 

“He’s gone a little nuts, Mr. Woolsey.” Lorne tossed his head at the image of the Odyssey on the view screen. “He’s convinced they’ve killed John. They were more than willing to kill O’Neill and me when they tried to take us.”

 

“I knew they were friends, I had no idea they were that close.”

 

“Yeah, well. They know how to hide,” Lorne said casually, confirming Richard’s suspicions once and for all.

 

Woolsey paced the command deck of the General Hammond as the clock ran down. At the twenty nine minute mark, a set of GPS coordinates were transmitted to the Odyssey from the New York Headquarters of the IOA. At the thirty one minute mark, John Sheppard was beamed aboard the General Hammond. 

 

“What the hell?” Sheppard demanded, looking around in confusion. 

 

Lorne tapped his comm and said, “He’s alive and in one piece, Colonel.” 

 

“Say hello and then send him here, Lorne.”

 

“Understood.” Lorne went over and clapped Sheppard’s shoulder. “I cannot tell you how glad I am to see you, Sir.”

 

“Where am I?”

 

“The General Hammond.”

 

Sheppard looked at the view screen and quickly realized for himself that the entirety of the SGC space fleet was now hovering over Earth. “They snatched a whole bunch of other ATA gene holders; we have to get them out too. They’ve got Carson and Markham and…”

 

Interrupting him, Lorne told him, “We know sir. But you were the lynchpin. Colonel Mitchell was insistent on your return.” 

 

“Mitchell?” 

 

“Seized control of the SGC and went to war with the IOA. John, you need to talk him off the ledge now. Between you and Woolsey, you might be able to salvage his career. I’ve got to send you to the Odyssey now, talk to him, please.”

 

“Cam’s on the Odyssey? Why didn’t they beam me straight there?”

 

“Because Mitchell was afraid of what they would be beaming up.”

 

Sheppard looked at him blankly for a moment and then nodded, “I could have been booby trapped?”

 

Lorne nodded. “Or worse, a corpse.”

 

“Shit. The situation is FUBAR.” Sheppard wiped a hand over his face. “Send me over.”

 

Lorne nodded and Woolsey and Sheppard rematerialized on the Odyssey. Mitchell took a long look at Sheppard and then exhaled. “Are you hurt?”

 

“No. You need to stop this, Cam.”

 

“I know.”

 

“You’re gonna be in so much trouble.”

 

Mitchell got up from the command chair and lurched across the gap separating them. He pulled Sheppard into his arms, cradling his head and clinging to him. “I don’t care. I really don’t care.” 

 

 ~*~

 

Richard Woolsey, the new head of the Diplomatic Division of the SGC smiled as he caught General O’Neill’s eye during the summation of his report to the Air Force board of inquiry. “The IOA severely underestimated both Colonel Mitchell’s resourcefulness and the SGC’s emergency preparedness against a terrorist foothold situation. This incident has brought to light both the strengths and the weaknesses of the program.”

 

Out in the hall, afterwards, O’Neill slapped him on the shoulder. “You know they’re going to give him a medal because of your testimony.”

 

Woolsey nodded and watched O’Neill lope off. The IOA had made one very big mistake that had lead directly to its demise. They had taken John Sheppard away from Cameron Mitchell.

The End