"Mr. Ramsey, your nine-thirty has arrived early."
Hammond's secretary's voice came through the intercom in the patient tone she used when early was an understatement. I checked the clock. Nine-fifteen. Narim had not been due until ten.
"Briefing room?"
"Briefing room. Major Carter is with him."
I pushed back from the desk. The Tuesday agenda was three deep on my screen — Walter's draft Serrakin engineer-surveillance protocol, Rothman's overnight ATHENA-3 stability log, the P5C-353 secondary survey Kawalsky had pushed up the queue from next Tuesday to this morning. None of it was for the briefing room at nine-fifteen.
He came in unscheduled.
"I know."
The protocol cost is high. He did not come for tea.
I closed the screen. AURORA-7's voice settled at the back of my skull and stayed there. I walked the corridor to the briefing room in a measured pace, not faster than a man who had been told a guest had come early, and stopped outside the door to button the second button of my shirt collar I had not bothered with for the desk work.
Narim stood when I came in. Sam was already on her feet. The handshakes were warm on Sam's side, formal on Narim's, the half-bow that was Tollan civilian register held a beat longer than at the previous visit. The polite distance between his shoulders and the back of his chair had shifted closer to the chair. Tollan posture went stiffer the more the speaker was about to say what they could not say.
"Mr. Ramsey."
"Narim. You're welcome any time."
"Yes." He sat. He arranged the cuff of his coat. "I understand I am not on the schedule until ten. I came at nine-fifteen because I considered the additional forty-five minutes useful for clarity."
Sam's hand drifted up. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. The strand was already behind her ear. I had seen her do that twice this month. It was the thing she did when Narim spoke and she did not want her face to read what she was hearing.
"What can I do for you, Narim."
He took a breath. The breath was the part. I watched him decide how long to hold it.
"There are members of the Curia," he said, "who feel your administrative system has not been adequately accounted for in our protocols."
He let the sentence end there. He did not name them. He did not name a vote. He did not name a clock.
I let my own breath out at a count of two.
"Are these members organized."
"They are coordinated."
"Is the coordination led."
"There is a senior member." His eyes did not move. "I will not name her."
Travell.
The name landed in the back of my skull in AURORA-7's voice and stayed. I did not nod. I picked up the water glass at my place and turned it a quarter turn on the table.
"What would resolve their concerns."
"A more complete protocol declaration. On the next contact cycle."
"Cycle of?"
"Nine days."
The water in the glass moved with the turn. I set the glass down.
"Narim. I appreciate that this conversation has a price for you."
"It does not."
"It does. We're going to pretend it does not, because that's the form. I will not waste it."
He looked at me for a long moment. The Tollan briefing room light made the green undertone in his skin read like he had been seasick on the way through the gate. Sam noticed it and looked at the table.
"There is also a technical matter," Narim said, deliberately, "which Major Carter has been kind enough to put on the table."
Sam straightened. She had a notepad in front of her. She had written nothing on it.
"The Tollan infrastructure consultation," Sam said. "On the next phase — power throughput tolerances. The figures you provided last visit were a range. We'd hoped for a working value."
Narim inclined his head. "The working value is within the range."
"Yes." Sam smiled with her professional half-smile. "Can you tell us where in the range."
"I cannot."
"Can you tell us why you cannot."
"I am not authorized."
"Understood." Sam's pen sat flat on the notepad. She did not pick it up. "Thank you."
Narim turned the inclined head toward me. The deflection had been graceful and Sam had not flinched and Narim had given her the answer he was going to give and the room knew the answer was not going to change before the vote.
"Mr. Ramsey. I will be in Cheyenne Mountain until this afternoon. If there is anything further you would like to discuss before I return, my schedule is open."
"I'll be in touch."
He stood. He inclined his head to Sam once more. He left.
The door closed.
Sam exhaled. She did not pick up the notepad. She slid it back across the table toward herself and did not look at me.
"Travell," she said.
"Yeah."
"He didn't say it."
"He didn't have to."
She put the notepad in her bag. She closed the bag. She did not stand. She sat there with her hand on the bag's strap.
"Drew."
"Yeah."
"He came in forty-five minutes early because he wanted me to be in the room when he didn't say it."
I looked at her.
"Why," I said.
"Because if I'm in the room, the technical question gets asked, and the technical question is the cover for him coming at nine-fifteen instead of ten. And the cover means he's already counted the days. He knows how long I'll need to file the report. He knows how long Hammond will need to read it. He knows how long you'll need to decide."
She let her hand fall off the strap.
"He's not the one delivering the warning," she said. "He's the one buying us time to act on it."
The intercom buzzed before I could answer. Hammond's secretary.
"Mr. Ramsey. General Hammond is on his way down."
Hammond came in without knocking. He sat in the visitor chair. He had the morning briefing folder under his arm. He set the folder on the table without opening it.
"Major Carter."
"Sir."
"What did he tell you."
Sam said it plainly. The faction was named. The vote was in nine days. The price was a more complete declaration on Earth's administrative system. The technical question had been cover. Hammond listened with his hands flat on the table. When she finished he tapped the folder once with his thumb.
"Major. Thank you. Could you give us the room."
Sam stood. She picked up her bag. At the door she paused with her hand on the knob.
"General."
"Yes."
"I am going to write this up by sixteen-hundred. I am going to write the recommendation as 'partial disclosure under bilateral verification.' I am going to put my name on it."
"Major."
"Sir."
"I'm grateful."
Sam closed the door behind her.
Hammond sat for a beat. He did not open the folder. He pushed it across the table at me.
"Read it later."
"Yes sir."
"Mr. Ramsey."
"Sir."
"Your administrative system is now a political object."
I had been waiting for the sentence for three months. I had thought when it came it would come from the IOA precursor inquiry Hammond had been deflecting since the broadcast. I had not thought it would come from a Tollan diplomat who liked the SGC. The sentence sat between us. I let it sit.
"How wide do you want me to take the disclosure window," I said.
"That's not my call."
"It's not."
"It will be the President's call."
"Yes sir."
"It will be your call before it gets to him." Hammond's hand sat on the table. The hand was steady. He wanted me to see it steady. "I will be brief. There is going to be an inquiry. There is going to be a body that asks for it. The body does not exist yet under that name and you have, by my count, ninety days before it does. I would prefer to send the President a recommendation he can sign rather than a brief he must answer."
"I understand."
"I do not know what to recommend." He paused. He looked at the folder he had not opened. "I would like you to come to my office this evening. Bring your own recommendation. We will draft together."
"Yes sir."
He stood. He took the folder back. He paused at the door.
"Drew."
"Sir."
"I have been doing umbrella work since you were a captain in a different life. I am not bad at it." His hand was on the doorknob. "You will need to learn it."
He left.
I sat in the briefing room alone. The water in my glass had stopped moving. My left thumb was on my right forefinger. I had not noticed when it had started.
AURORA-7 came up in my ear at a register quieter than her usual.
Drew.
"Yes."
The Tok'ra deep cover operative on Tollana. The one we have not named. The one Selmak has not yet brought to your desk. He is the channel by which Travell has heard about me.
"I know."
I cannot confirm it.
"I know."
Hammond cannot ask you that question. Not in this office. Not on this clock.
I stood. I picked up the water glass and set it on the cabinet by the door so the cleaning staff would not leave it overnight, and I walked back to my office.
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