Red Sky in Morning
by Pho
"Red sky in morning, sailor take warning; red sky at night, sailor delight." Sam took another sip of her brandy and settled back to watch the spectacular sunset. God, she'd been so incredibly stupid. Bypassing the safety protocols, who the hell did she think she was, General Bauer? She winced at the recollection of the dimwitted temporary replacement for General Hammond. *He'd* forced her to build the bomb which had almost destroyed the SGC, and did destroy an entire planet. One she sincerely hoped had been uninhabited. Well, it was certain that nothing was living on it now. She giggled at the inanity of the thought, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand. Majors, even off-duty at home majors, should never, ever giggle. Conduct unbecoming or some such shit.
God, she was tired. Tired of the pressure to produce a technologically acceptable byproduct of their travels through the 'gate. Tired of the pressure to produce technical miracles at the drop of a hat when missions didn't go according to plan. Tired of the 'looks' from envious males who just didn't understand her love of a good machine. And even more tired of the condescending rhetoric forced down her throat by superior - yeahsureyabetcha - officers who couldn't count to ten without help. "Good job, Major." "Congratulations, Major, the dial-in worked." The myriad of voices whirled through her head making her dizzy, and slightly nauseous.
Sam leaned back in the old style wicker rocker and closed her eyes. She should have protested the order to override the safety protocols. If she'd only asked for more time to determine *why* they couldn't dial into the planet. They'd had no trouble six months earlier when a random check of the addresses had proven it to be a valid address. It had been added to the mission log for future survey along with a couple of hundred others. And when its time had come to be studied, the 'gate wouldn't lock. Hell, chevron six hadn't even wanted to engage. *That* alone should have told her something. But no. *She* had to prove to the male establishment that *she* was better than the best. The Ancients had nothing on her; she could outwit their mechanisms any damn time she wanted to. And in doing so, she'd almost killed a world. And had, by her mistake, killed two members of SG-6. The brandy burned on the back of her throat as she tried to keep it down.
The Ancients. Now *there* was a really smart race. They'd known enough to figure out when the 'gate should work and when it shouldn't. Hell, they'd even figured out how to make time loop - granted that had been an accident, but pretty damned impressive any way you looked at it. Apparently nobody knew what they looked like, but one thing was certain. They probably didn't have a condescending bone - if they had bones - in their bodies. Not like the Tollans, or the Nox, or the - damn them - the Asgard. She'd come to like the little gray dudes, as the colonel called them, and had to admit she'd been more than flattered when the Asgard had asked *her* to save their little gray butts. Her eyes snapped open, and she glanced at the sunset for a moment, wondering where she'd heard that phrase before. She took another sip of the brandy and shrugged - probably wasn't important. She glanced down, staring in confusion as the brandy sloshed around her snifter. What *had* she been thinking about? Oh, yeah. The Asgard.
All things considered, it was only logical that the Goa'uld would have a 'get-out-of-the-contract' clause in the Asgard treaty. So why had it come as such as surprise? Even Daniel had been stunned by the news that the Asgard could not openly save the inhabitants of K'Tau without placing all other protected planets at risk. Still, they'd come through in the end. All's well that end's well. What a cliché! Shit! The planet was saved. The locals were saved. And the general had issued new orders forbidding the overriding of safety protocols. Wasn't that special? Orders that should have been there from the beginning. Hindsight being twenty-twenty that is. Shit! Another cliché! Who knew brandy had *that* effect?
Sam took another sip and found the snifter empty, and the bottle was way back there in her dining room. She studied the last golden drops on the bottom of the glass. Odd, she'd really thought the amount she'd poured would've been enough. She wanted to forget. Everything. Anything. The horrible redness of the sky. The colonel's all-too-cocksure-certainty that the Asgard would get them out of this mess. The exploding rocket. The dead members of SG-6. The colonel's almost murder of - what had that idiot's name been anyway? Daniel's devastation when the residents refused to leave. The horrible redness of the sky. The last minute reprieve.
Reprieve for the planet, but not for her. Sam failed to notice as a solitary tear rolled down her face. Her soul was forever stained by her error and the only way she knew to atone for her sin was to swear to herself, and all she held dear, to be more careful in the future. She only wished she could be certain that would be enough.