Stargate SG1 - Roswell Read Online Free PDF

the SGC for a few days.
     
    'C'mon, Jack, I could see it in your face the last time you were there. Landry had coaxed. ‘I know you 're just itching to get hack in the saddle. Think of it as getting up to speed with what s happening out in the universe, without having to read a year's worth of reports.'
     
    With a grimace, Jack finished tying his shoelaces and stood, deciding he should pay Carolyn Lam a visit sooner rather than later. And then he took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, mentally prepared himself for a more than a five-word explanation from General Carter.
     
    *     *     *
    The briefing room, Jack noted, had suffered considerably less damage than the control room. The wide windows overlooking the 'gate room had come out of it with just a few cracks, and the bank of flat-paneled monitors to his left were already displaying the status of... Come to think of it he had no idea what they were displaying, but they looked pretty much the same as they had when Jack had arrived this morning. Walter was at a side table, messing around with coffee, and a couple of airmen had just finished repotting some large piece of foliage that decorated one corner in a futile attempt to disguise the fact they were buried deep underground in a concrete bunker.
     
    Shoving his hands into the pockets of his BDUs, Jack went to the center window and looked down. It would have taken a week with cutting tools before the twisted wreckage of ramp and guns could be removed from the 'gate room. To avoid that, before showering, he'd authorized opening the tunnel to the surface so the entire mess could be hoisted out and a new ramp lowered. Meanwhile, under Siler's direction, the Stargate was being hooked up to a second crane.
     
    “I'm terribly sorry about the damage.”
     
    Jack turned. Carter's companion, the as-yet-to-be-explained Herbert, was shuffling into the room, an apologetic smile lifting the corners of his oversized moustache.
     
    “Not your fault, Herbert.” Carter— General Carter—circled around the departing airmen, who tried and failed to be surreptitious in their stares, and then made a beeline for the head of the conference table. She pulled up just short, and instead opted for the chair that the Carter of this time had most often used. Making no attempt to hide her slip, the General met his raised eyebrow with a vaguely apologetic smile. “I'm not going to stand on protocol, Jack. I'm the guest, here.”
     
    With a nod, Jack signaled their armed Marine escort to wait outside. “You mean there's a protocol for time travelers who outrank their superior officers?”
     
    He'd already noticed that while Carter wore no rings, there was an indentation across the third finger of her left hand, where one had sat until recently. Very recently. Wedding bands were the first thing removed prior to Special Ops missions. “How's Pete?” Pulling his hands from his pockets, he wandered over to the head of the table.
     
    “Nice try, Jack,” she replied, sliding into her seat.
     
    Fast, but not fast enough. Her hesitation told him that she hadn't had the time to prepare for questions that could trip her up, which pegged this as a last minute operation from... when?
     
    For some reason he was reminded of the day that she'd strode into this same room almost ten years earlier; cocky and ambitious and determined to prove that being a scientist didn't make her a liability. The edges had been rounded and the cockiness had been wiped away her very first trip through the 'gate. As for the assuredness, it was now tacked in place by the three stars, an additional thirty years of living and...something else that he couldn't quite put a finger on. He was definitely not imagining the unnerving feeling that she could see straight through him; into places he'd worked hard to keep hidden, even from himself.
     
    “My dear chap,” Herbert asked Walter. “Would a cup of tea be out of the question?”
     
    The sergeant turned.